#truck cctv

[hiddenworldofmary]

i’d like to say sorry to the friendly beeping of something on the staircase that i mistook for a fire alarm before, the real one started going off this morning and that shit is fucking unbearable

[cowboybutchboots]

i really hope i can find some community in my neighborhood. i’ve met 3 different households from introducing themselves (two of them brought treats <33) but i want to invite them to my housewarming when my house is finished so i can actually meet all of them

[sharpeagle-tech]

Benefits of Having Vehicle CCTV camera system on Forklift Trucks

Busy warehouses with plenty of forklifts are often sites of heavy accidents. Forklifts were involved in almost 70 fatalities in 2021, and around 7,300 nonfatal injuries — including non-work related accidents! These are worrying numbers and one has to wonder how to lower them down?! 

In comes the CCTV safety gear! This is a wonderful way to mitigate the risks of forklift accidents from many different angles.

With global concerns about workplace safety and security rising, investing in vehicle CCTV systems makes good sense not only financially but also as an additional safety measure for anyone working with lift truck machinery. Read on to learn more about the benefits that having vehicle CCTV can offer!

Driver Protection

Drivers of forklifts and other heavy-duty equipment need protection – not only from theft or vandalism but from accidents as well. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that almost 26,000 workers are injured every year due to forklift-related accidents. Security cameras installed on forklifts can therefore provide an additional layer of safety for drivers by monitoring the work zone and allowing for prompt response in the event of any hazards or obstructions in the area. 

It’s always easy to blame the driver for the accident that occurred. But with CCTV footage, now you can protect your staff from false accusations and prove with footage what has happened. Our devices have a long enough shooting time before the data is overwritten, giving you enough to access what has happened! 

People Protection

Ensuring the safety of pedestrians in warehouses and other excessive-traffic areas is a significant concern for employers, as it can help to reduce the number of accidents that occur every year. Security cameras that are placed on forklifts help to ensure the safety of pedestrians by offering an invaluable layer of protection - they allow operators to be able to identify and respond to potential dangers immediately. Installing security cameras on forklifts helps the environment stay safe and secure to preserve everyone’s well-being. 

CCTV systems give people a unique feeling of safety at your facility, and drivers especially feel more confident about their daily tasks, knowing that you’ve got their back! With this safety system in place, you’ll keep all employees and customers safe! 

Improvements Identification

Imagine how many accidents happen because of repeating causes and you’re not even aware of what they are! Moreover, security cameras on forklifts not only provide improved safety in the workplace but also allow for higher levels of productivity. The observation and analysis of footage taken from strategically placed security cameras can lead to the identification of operational deficiencies such as improper maintenance, inefficiencies, and other areas where money can be saved through investments. 

Such insights are invaluable in helping companies achieve their goals, and using surveillance as part of a comprehensive approach to forklift operations can help maintain operating costs while improving quality and efficiency.

Now you have a unique view into anything wrong with your safety protocols so that you can improve them and prevent any kind of warehouse accident — not just the ones including your forklifts! 

Training Tool

In addition to supplying insightful security data, these systems offer an immersive and interactive experience to operators, allowing them to better navigate the implications of their decisions while using a forklift. With this insight, management can provide valuable lessons to help train operators, promoting consistent adherence to safety regulations and operational procedures. 

All the footage collected from your safety cameras can be used to show good and bad examples of safe driving procedures to your new members. Inducing new drivers, providing safety education to standard staff, you name it — it provides a unique learning experience, simply because people will see a familiar space! 

Crime Prevention

Security cameras are a great way to help prevent crime in material-handling settings and promote the safety of personnel and equipment. Installing a security camera system can provide tangible evidence and real-time monitoring, helping to protect against theft, vandalism, or damage caused by uncontrolled access. 

Criminals and perpetrators don’t like to see cameras on the premises they’re raiding. The very presence of safety gear on your forklifts will deter criminals from snooping around the warehouse in an instant! They will think twice before they commit the act they were about to. Also, think about the staff you’ll be protecting if they’re innocently working in a space nearby! 

Conclusion

In conclusion, investing in security cameras for your forklifts can provide a multitude of benefits. Drivers are better protected, pedestrian safety is improved, and the system can be used to help identify operational improvements. Plus, forklift security cameras can serve as a valuable training tool, promote improved driver performance and even help to prevent theft and vandalism. 

Now that you’ve seen these benefits, a professional CCTV system shouldn’t be a matter of question any longer! Of course, you’d want only the best gear used at your premises — so acquiring it from a known dealer should be your top priority. 

‍Check out our offer of safety cameras that will help you reap the benefits of having them around!

You can call us at +971-4-454-1054 or mail us at sales@sharpeagle.uk

‍

[teaboot]

Yo I can't speak for 911 dispatch but working on the ground here are some tips for calling or radio'ing help:

First: Give information in the right order. 911 WILL ask, before anything else: City? Police, Fire, or Ambulance? They need to know who they're sending and where. If you're calling me (mall cop) I know you're looking for security presence, so my assumption is that either we don't need 911, 911 has already been called, or I'm about to be calling, so this part isn't always required.

Second: Location. I can't do shit about the five-foot-six Caucasian female wearing green shoes breaking into your car if I don't know where your car is.

Third: The most distinctive thing you see. Trash can on fire? Yellow truck got busted? Body on the ground? Person brandishing a weapon?

Fourth: If the issue is a moving target, pick the most distinctive trait about them first. Something that can be seen at a distance. "Wearing jeans" is not as useful or as distinctive as "orange baseball cap" or "coveralls". "Truck" isn't isn't useful or distinctive as "brown pickup, busted fender".

Fifth: At this point someone is on their way looking for what you've described, but they're still listening. Now is the time to add details. Heading north? Carrying a weapon? Additional clothing, descriptors, etc.

If you are calling emergency dispatch, don't just start talking. They will usually ask for what they need in the order that they need it.

If you're calling for security or CCTV surveillance: Location, distinction, details.

Note: I've only been in the industry a few years but I get a lot of people giving bad descriptions or misordered ones so I thought I'd put out a general PSA, but if anyone with more experience here has anything to correct or add on, please do

[bengiyo]

Dead Friend Forever Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

Be On Cloud is back, and they decided to go for horror. I don't think I've liked any of the BL Horror yet, but I'll continue to humor the attempts.

Wait, did Barcode just die??

There are so many boys in this truck. This is definitely a slasher. Who is the final girl of a BL slasher?

Oh, there's tension in this group about the one friend leaving for America.

There's only one phone to call out? Oh yeah most of them are dying.

And there's drama over the missing friend.

Now what did these two boys do that they don't want the others to find out?

Noting we have a character who needs an inhaler. He will certainly not have it during a critical moment later.

The sound mixing of this show is very good.

There's a lot of jealousy in this show. Is this what characters will be killed for?

Whoa, where did that other hand just come from??

Well, you knew BOC was gonna show ass. This is a messy pair! HE BIT THAT MAN!!

And this is why you don't go running through the woods at night.

I am glad we know the CCTV exists, because this will be useful later when we see the killer creeping up on someone who is actively watching the footage.

I like that the aspiring med student called out to not remove the branch and the aspiring director is the one who took charge and started giving orders.

It's cool that these characters don't know they're in a slasher. Top and Tee are trying to solve the vehicle problem in believable ways. Still, I hope no one is killed with the jumper cables later.

Ah yes, we have no means of communicating with the rest of the world, and now we're hoping someone eventually answers an old walkie talkie.

I worried the road crew would be the first ones to go.

Well, this looks bad for them.

It's going to be interesting experiencing a slasher as an ongoing weekly experience. I'm curious to see what the pacing feels like.

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone knows me at the dump. I don’t mean this in a bragging sort of way. In fact, I hate this fact. The reason why everyone knows me at the dump is that Mr. Jones, the dump operator, has posted the CCTV footage and blurry cell-phone camera pictures of my face on the break room wall. Even the youngest probie at the dump will look at me, every morning, while they wait for the coffee machine to dispense their mandatory cup of black joy.

You can probably guess why this has happened to me. I love junk, and the dump has a lot of that junk. To me, it is offensive that the dump hoards that junk. They keep it from me, using excuses like “sanitation” and “safety,” but safety is my middle name. If they would just give me a chance, then I would be the best they’ve ever seen. I’d even remove and sort the little lithium-ion vape batteries that haven’t exploded yet, out of gratitude.

Of course, we both know why I’m digging through trash at the dump. I don’t want old Betamax VCRs, or mouldy cardboard boxes heralding products from a bygone era. Well, I do, but I don’t want them more than I want a two-stroke dirt bike, and I’ve seen tons of those over the years get callously tossed into the debris pile by the great unwashed. They’re always getting thrown out for little reasons, like “carb jet plugged,” or “caught on fire,” or “couldn’t get anyone to buy it on Craigslist for septuple the market value so I threw it away out of spite.” I could save these bikes, and to be not allowed to save them is literal torture.

Just like anyone else would in my shoes, I started wearing elaborate disguises to the dump. Sometimes I could loot one, and throw it into the back of my car, and be gone before the dump operators (there weren’t even security guards yet, back then) could catch up to me. I had enough disguises – and enough cars – that I could pull this off for a little while. Then, used cars got really expensive, and the folks in my neighbourhood started using security fasteners to hold on their license plates. I started to escape by tighter and tighter scrapes, until one fateful day.

That bastard Jones figured me out. He came from Chicago, of all places, a city which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even have a dump. And he knew my kind. He set a trap: an agonizingly pristine, 1989 Yamaha XT225. Sure, it was a four-stroke, but it was still love at first sight. It was planted right on top of one of the big piles of disposable diapers, visible even from the highway. Even knowing it was a trap, I made plans for months to grab it.

The joke’s on him, though. I’ve started my own private dump, and I’ve paid the government to start outsourcing dump operations to me. We’re an extremely efficient operation, much more affordable for the taxpayer than the wasteful public dump. How so, you ask? Well, we are much more selective with what waste we accept, and we wrote one helluva contract, which had a bunch of big words that confused the gin-addled politicos that signed it out of desperation to meet their “lower taxes” pledge.

Here’s how it works. We charge the city hundreds of thousands of dollars a month, and we get first pick of any internal combustion engines that are in the back of the garbage trucks. Everything else goes down the road to the regular dump. We’re making a fortune. If we keep putting out numbers like this, I’m sure there will soon be layoffs over at Jones’ shithole. Hell, maybe I’ll even hire him to manage security around these parts. Can’t have anyone walking off with my good trash.

[celestesinsight]

Salaar: Scene Interpretation!

Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down to day

An agent crests the shadows of the nearby alleyway

Piles of broken bricks, sign posts on the path

Every moment points towards the aftermath,

Deva and Amma were traveling from village to village, escaping from something or somebody. But nobody was actively pursuing them, like they did with Aadhya. In fact, Radha Rama (through Vedha) was just trying to find them discreetly by searching through the cctv cameras across the nation. Even Obulamma, Radha Rama's closest maid had no idea about this. The search mission was so secretive that Vedha hid the photo of his target behind the papers in his own den and refused to take his name even when he was among his men. It was as if they feared some kind of retribution if people got an inkling that they were searching for Deva.

Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town

Hopeless urchins from the city gather around

Spies from Imperial China wash in with the tide

Every battle heads toward surrender on both sides

Then news of Aadhya's arrival brought a breakthrough for them. They started actively pursuing Deva in the guise of searching for Krishnakant's daughter to punish her for whatever Krishnakant had done seven years back. Their instincts proved right. With Aadhya, they finally found Deva. Radha Rama formed the plan of using Aadhya to make Deva break the seal and start a war between Deva and Varadha. Because she knew, if one of them would die, then the other would follow.

Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills

Chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills

And a rabbit gives up somewhere, and a dozen hawks descend

Every moment points toward its own sad end

Deva and Amma left Aadhya and Bilal in Tinsukia. Before they could go far away, Amma saw those two being surrounded by Rinda's men, Bilal putting a brave front and then finally surrendering on seeing themselves outnumbered. Amma looked at Deva to see his reaction to find him completely focused on driving away. Amma looked back again and saw Aadhya being stamped with the seal and put in the truck along with Bilal. Deva didn't need to look back to know they were captured. He knew exactly that would happen the moment he left them behind and drove away. But he was bound by his mother's word.

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they're gone

Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction

All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection

When Bilal recognised the seal on Aadhya and realised whose truck it was, his first reaction was to hold the pole tightly and ask Aadhya to do the same. He knew that Deva was not only going to break that seal, but was going to put on a grand show while doing that. And Deva didn't disappoint him. He went all out to stop the truck. He knew to whom the truck belonged. He knew the consequences of stopping that seal. He was not just saving Aadhya, he was sending a message to the man, who was ignoring his existence for the last seven years.

And I am coming home to you

With my own blood in my mouth

And I am coming home to you

If it's the last thing that I do

Varadha didn't have to be told, he already knew it was Deva who stopped the seal. There was no exhilaration in his reaction, like one would expect when someone finally found the thing he was searching for all these years. In his demeanor, there was just reluctant acceptance of the consequences of Deva's actions. Varadha never pursued Deva, nor did he allow anyone else to do the same. He knew nobody could find Deva, if he didn't want to be found. He understood the message Deva had sent. Just like he had accepted every impulsive action of Deva, he accepted this too. He knew Deva was coming home, to him and he was ready to welcome him, even if it was the last thing they both do.

[sashaisready]

Chapter 5 - Done

Nick Fowler x Shy CIA Employee Reader

Under the Radar Masterlist

Chapter Four - The Ghost

Warnings: references to sex trafficking

Wordcount: 2333

Despite your best efforts to forget it, Nick’s warning about Joe was niggling away at you. What did he mean exactly? Had something happened between the two of them? Did Nick know something you didn’t? Or was he just basing it all on a hunch he had - or worse - deliberately trying to mess with you to throw you off your game, sabotage you to prove he was right about you?

Would he really do that?

You berated yourself for letting him worm his way back in your headspace. You’d moved on. You’d barely thought about him. You’d been making progress at work. You were on the boss’ radar. You were enjoying Joe’s company. Don’t let him ruin it!

You wouldn’t.

*

The next day you were back in the makeshift Project Cotton office with Joe reading some correspondence from the FBI team. Walsh suddenly strolled into the conference room, surprising you both.

“Sir” Joe nodded. “Sorry - I thought our meeting wasn’t until this afternoon?”

“Morning both” said Walsh as he ran a finger over the letter opener left on the desk. “No, you’re right Palmer. I’ve actually come to see her” he nodded over to you.

You felt a jolt of anxiety. “Me? Uh…How can I help, Sir?”

“We’ve had an unexpected tip off from an informant in relation to Project Cotton” he explained. “We have reason to believe that this vehicle has been attending several of the key sites”.

He slid a grainy photograph of a sleek truck over to you. You could just about make out the license plate.

“Our informant has managed to get his hands on some CCTV footage which he says catches this truck attending one of the suspected sites on multiple occasions”.

“That could be a big breakthrough” you breathed excitedly. “If we can trace the owner…we might finally have a name for someone at the top of this thing.”

Walsh nodded. “Indeed. The vehicle is registered to a Mr. Ray Colebrook. He has several priors for assault…racketeering…pandering. The problem is we need more evidence in order to obtain a warrant to seize the truck and take Colebrook in for questioning”.

You looked at him pensively. “So you need…proof that he has been spotted at the site? Which could be on the CCTV?”

“Precisely” Walsh nodded. “The difficulty is…the footage is 12 hours long with hundreds of vehicles coming and going. We need someone to review the footage with a fine tooth comb and see if the truck really appears, and how many times if so - with time stamps”.

“So…that would be me” you replied, now understanding what he was asking of you.

“Correct. I know you have a lot of experience in this area. You’re patient, thorough. If the truck is on there you’ll find it. But…we do need it done by the morning, I’m sorry to say. We need to move fast, Colebrook might get spooked now he’s been using the same truck, we need that warrant ASAP before he switches it up again”.

Your eyes widened. “Review 12 hours of footage…By t-tomorrow??”

“Sir…” Joe said, concern lacing his tone.

“I know it’s a big ask. But we’re counting on you” Walsh continued. 

Your nerves gave way to determination. This was your chance to prove your value. To show everyone you were capable. To impress Walsh. To help the traffic victims. 

Not nothing. Not beige.

You nodded. 

“Alright…you can count on me” you told Walsh boldly. “I’ll work through the night it I have to”. 

“Great, thank-you…I knew you’d come through” Walsh smiled. 

“Sir…this is a big task. Do you think maybe I should step in?” Joe tentatively asked. “I don’t mind pulling an all nighter-”

He looked at you anxiously. Typical Joe, always trying to help. You felt grateful for his support. He was just trying to protect you. But he didn’t need to worry.

“Very valiant - but we need you fresh for tomorrow, Palmer” Walsh responded, his tone making it clear there was no room for further discussion. 

He was right. Joe was meant to be out in the morning scoping out one of the sites. The two of you had been planning it for weeks now. He couldn’t go out in the field exhausted from a night of watching CCTV. 

“It’s okay Agent Palmer, I’ve got this” you smiled at him reassuringly.

He looked back at you, but he didn’t look wholly convinced.

“You can have tomorrow off in lieu” Walsh added. “So you can rest up afterwards and come back fresh on Thursday where Palmer will debrief you on how his reconnaissance went.”

You nodded. “Got it. Thanks”.

You smiled at Joe again, hoping to show that you were fine to take this on. He smiled back, but you didn’t miss the slight hint of unease on his face.

*

You had actually done it. 

You couldn’t believe it. It had taken hours, you were still stuck at your desk long after everyone else was tucked up in their beds back home, but you’d done it. You blearily stared at the screen in front of you, then at the notepad where you’d scribbled the truck’s time stamps (which you’d treble checked). Done. You’d reviewed all of the footage. The source was right, the truck had visited the site several times during that 12 hour period. Now they’d have the evidence needed to get the warrant for Colebrook. 

You were utterly exhausted, but the sheer satisfaction and pride you felt buoyed you.  You’d done it! You’d made a meaningful contribution to the project. This work, although tedious, might lead to a major breakthrough in the case - all because of you. 

Not so beige after all.

You yawned, your eyelids felt like they had weights attached as you adjusted your back and wriggled your legs to get your blood pumping. You looked around, the clock was approaching 2am. Time to go. It was weird seeing the office like this. Empty. Dark. Quite eerie really.

You fired off an email to Walsh and Joe with the time stamps and camera screenshots of the truck for good measure, smiling to yourself for a job well done. 

You got up to leave - then smirked as you noticed the letter opener sitting on the corner of your desk. Might as well take this golden opportunity to continue the game with Joe. You dropped it on his keyboard as you passed by. 

You bid good night to Grant the security guard who was shocked to see you so late. He insisted on walking you to your car which was very sweet. You chatted as you walked. Grant was always easy to talk to. You didn’t have to work too hard like you did with the others.

You would text Joe in the morning to see how the mission was going. Until then…sleep. Much sleep. 

*

It was lunchtime by the time you woke up. Seems you really needed that rest. You said a silent thank-you to Walsh for giving you the day off. 

Speaking of, he’d emailed you back with a congratulatory message on all your hard work. You took a screen shot of it on your phone so you could refer to it next time you had a crisis of confidence. 

You sent a text to Joe wishing him well today and asking him to let you know how it went once he was safe to do so. You felt a pang of anxiety despite your good mood, you hoped all your planning had paid off and he would be safe today.

After that you ordered your favourite takeout for lunch (you deserved it) and jumped in the shower to finally start your day.

After you had stepped out of the shower and the second you’d finished wrapping your towel around you - the doorbell rang. You cursed, not expecting the delivery to be that quick. You glanced down nervously at your scantily clad figure. 

Fuck it. The door would only be open a few seconds. Just do it. Delivery drivers must see all kinds…

Emboldened by your new found confidence, you padded to your door and flung the door open. 

Your face fell.

“…Nick?”

He was standing in your doorway grinning like the cat who got the cream as he surveyed your figure. 

“Afternoon, princess…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked shrilly, hiding your towelled torso behind the front door.

“You don’t look sick to me”.

“What??”

“You didn’t turn up to work so I assumed you were sick. Thought I’d come check on you, but looks like you were just playing hooky”.

You rolled your eyes. 

“Actually I’m off today. Walsh let me take the time as I worked late last night. What do you want, Nick?” You barked at him. 

“That’s not a very nice way to speak to someone who came out on his break to bring you chicken soup…”

He held up a brown paper bag with the local deli design on it.

Your stomach gurgled, and you flattened any stirrings of feelings that threatened to emerge after realising Nick had brought you soup when he thought you were sick. 

“Not hungry. Well…I am. But I have takeout on its way. And I’m not sick. So…” You dismissed it with a wave of the hand.

He smiled, shrugging impassively. “Take it anyway. Heat it up later for dinner.”

He placed the bag on the doorstep. Then he took a step back and his eyes roamed up and down your body. You felt your heart pounding. How had this happened?? You were only meant to be at the door for a few seconds.

“Tryna’ give the delivery driver a heart attack, huh?” He asked, his voice low as his eyes dropped.

You felt yourself blushing as you covered yourself with your arms. “No…I-“

His smile grew wider.

“I’ve missed you, princess”.

You froze, not able to meet his gaze.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Especially when I was out on the op. Your soft skin…your body….but also just…being with you”.

You couldn’t look up.

He sighed. “Look…what I said..”

“Don’t…” you hushed, feeling tears prick the back of your eyes.

“I was outta line” he continued, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I…I don’t know why I said those things. They aren’t true…I was being an asshole and you didn’t deserve any of that”.

You focus your eyes on the soup’s brown paper bag at your feet.

“…you meant it though” you responded. In your head you sounded strong but it left your mouth barely a whisper.

He shook his head. “No….no I didn’t”.

You bit your lip. He did. You remember the venom with which he said it. The mocking half smile. It was emblazoned in your memory, always there no in the background matter how hard you tried to ignore it. He had dug deep into your insecurities and yanked them up to the surface, leaving you raw and exposed.

“You’re a little quiet…sure. But you’re not beige…you’re not nothing” he said gently. “Never beige”.

You didn’t respond.

“You caught me off guard” he explained, clearly not concerned that this was a one sided conversation. “Maybe…maybe there was some truth to what you said. Maybe I was…feelingsomething. And I panicked, I went on the offensive”.

You still couldn’t look. You felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of your neck. You shuffled your feet. 

“…and I blew it. And I’m sorry. Really sorry. And I swear - nothing is going on with Mace. We went on a date once but it didn’t work out. That’s all”.

Your heart was pounding. You had longed to hear those word from him for so long. It all felt like a strange dream.

But it was too late. It felt tainted now. You didn’t even know if he was telling the truth. 

Your shock transformed into something else. You felt stronger than you had in a long time. Maybe ever. 

“You’re right, I’m not beige” you sneered, finally meeting his eye. 

He nodded.

“Yes…I’m quiet. Yes…I’ve been stuck in my job for a little too long. And yes…maybe I do blend in more than I stick out…”

He opened his mouth to speak but you continued. 

“But I’m also kind. I’m smart. I give everything my all. I may not always know what to say, or how to play the game in the same way you do…but I’m doing my best” you exhaled.

“And now I’m working on this big mission and I’m actually making a difference. Me! An Assistant!! Walsh is happy with my work and he trusts me. For the first time in my career, I’m actually being acknowledged and valued for what I have to offer”.

Nick smiled softly.

“….So, I have to thank-you Nick…”

He frowned, clearly not sure where you were going. 

“If you hadn’t been such a colossal asshole then I wouldn’t have pursued this. I wouldn’t have spoken to Walsh and pushed myself to discover what I’m truly capable of. So thank-you, Nick. Thank-you for breaking my heart. Because in your own twisted way, you helped me. But…I’m done with you. I don’t want to speak to you unless I have to. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you turning up at my front door anymore”.

He blanched, his jaw tightening.

“…so take your soup…” you picked up the bag and shoved it into his chest. “And your apologies. And leave me the fuck alone”. 

You blew out a puff of air, hardly believing you’d just said what you’d said. 

Nick wore his poker face as his eyes found yours. He just stared back at you for a few moments, until he finally nodded and began to retreat.

You watched him walk down the path until he stopped for a second, turning to look at you one last time. 

“You were never beige” he said softly. “You’re actually….vibrant. All the colours at once”.

And then he was gone.

*

Chapter 6 - File

[girlactionfigure]

DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF HAMAS MASSACRE

GRAPHIC CONTENT

LEE KERN

WARNING - GRAPHIC CONTENT

My name’s Lee Kern. I’m 45 years old. I’m a writer from London. Having seen footage of some of the crimes commited by Hamas against Israeli civilians on October 7th, 2023, I flew to Israel and requested permission to join a press screening that included footage families have asked not to be released to the general public. This is not what I want to do with my life. I’m a civilian. I’m an artist. I have mental health to protect. But it became clear we’re experiencing Holocaust denial in live time. Those who wish to destroy Israel and hold ill feeling towards Jews are not my audience. They’ve embraced an anti-intellectuallism in pursuit of mendacious goals. But I still believe the civilised world holds an edge over those debilitated by hate and conspiracism. It’s for those that I write this, and also for the victims.

Below are the notes I made during the screening, which lasted forty five minutes. It starts off extreme and gets more extreme. I am remaining in Israel so I can interview survivors and those affected by the massacres. If you are able to support my trip and my work, please subscribe.

DESCRIPTIONS OF OCTOBER 7th MASSACRE

The following are descriptions of footage shot by Hamas terrorists on their bodycams and mobile phones. It also incudes footage filmed on dash-cams, CCTV cameras and by the victims with their mobile phones.

The footage starts with Hamas breaking into Israel. They are on trucks and motorcycles. They shout Allahu Akbar. Over and over again. Allahu Akbar. Their faces are beaming with joy. They’re so happy.

We see terrorists standing in a road in Israel. A civilian car drives towards them. They begin firing. There are masses of them standing in the road. A long line of men with rifles all shooting at one car. The damaged car continues to move, but slowly now. A terrorist gestures his hand at the vehicle - almost as if he’s pretending to be their friend - kindly asking them to slow down even more so he can shoot them. He fires more bullets at them. The occupants of the car - a man and woman - are dead. Their bodies are pulled out of the vehicle and dropped lifelessly into the road.

Read More: Here

[egopocalypse]

Haunting

Whumptober Day 10: "Can't you see that you're lost without me?"

No matter where Chase goes, the shadow follows.

He's ditched his car and three others in the last day, driving the gas tanks down to their last dregs in his haste to get away. He doesn't have a destination in mind other than away, yet with each mile down the unforgiving highway, the chill down his spine rankles him even more.

He slaps his hand over the back of his neck, like the sting would make the crawling fade away.

"There aren't any more cameras," he mutters under his breath. "I'm safe now. It's fine."

But how can he be so sure? Ever since those freaky scientists guys were murdered, he's had to hop between towns, losing the trail of whatever people or things want to find him. He hasn't heard from Echo since he escaped IRIS. He has no idea what the public knows about him. (Would IRIS send out a manhunt? Do people think he's a criminal?) He has no sense of where to go or what to do but survive.

Why couldn't this have been a misunderstanding? Why didn't they let him go home?

What does Anti want from him?

The ghost of a breath sends a shiver down his spine, and he cranks the heat in the current old beater to the max. It sputters out a smog of hot diesel from the exhaust; his face screws up at the stench.

He's been in this rustbucket truck for too long. Hopefully the more inland he goes, the easier it'll be to find a rural town to swap cars. The sooner he can find a gas station without CCTV, let alone a WATCHR, the better.

Except the beater doesn't get him that far.

Something rattles under the hood, and a plume of smoke sparks and slithers out through the cracks. Chase curses and slams the steering wheel and pulls over three miles before the next exit, then grabs his meager belongings and sprints away as he hears a resounding boom and a rush of heat scorches his back.

It exploded. The truck fucking exploded.

With his heart in his throat, Chase reaches for his back pocket and nearly falls over in relief. The picture is still there. Even after everything, he hasn't lost it. He can't.

"For someone trying to avoid me, you put on quite the show."

Chase lurches and goes for the gun in his waistband, only to jolt when he comes up empty. It must still be in the center console, melting into a mangled mess with the rest of the scorching hot metal in front of them.

His hands flex and curl into fists. He doesn't want to turn around, to face the nightmare ruining his life, but if he doesn't, it would give it all the opportunities to stab him or snap his neck, like it had with the bodies it dropped right before they started this race.

"How are you here?" Chase asks. "How do you keep finding me?"

Anti's eyes light up with an eerie white glow. "Do you think it's hard?" it says. "I've followed you from the first time you called my name, the first time you saw this face. You've only been able to run because I wanted to chase."

Chase's breath sharpens. There truly is no getting away, is there? He's crossed half the country in the past few days, and yet no matter where he goes, Anti or IRIS will always find him.

"Why me?" He hates the pleading strain in his voice, but it never seems to fall away. "Why do you want me?"

Anti grins. "You still know nothing, don't you? Those people wanted to use you, but they didn't put in the effort to teach you."

Flames spark in Chase's chest, and despite the autumnal chill, the heat from the truck fire drips sweat down his back.

"Teach me what? I want some fucking answers."

"What will you pay to get them?"

Chase balks. "Huh?"

"You heard me," Anti says. "There's a price for answers, Chase--a price for every choice you made. What will you pay to earn the answers you want?"

He bites his cheek. His wallet got confiscated the second IRIS got their hands on him. The now-unusable gun had been picked off the corpse of an agent that Anti killed on its rampage through the facility. His phone and whiskey were lost before IRIS nabbed him. He has nothing of any value to give.

Anti's smile cools. Those dark, dead eyes bore into Chase's skull.

"Stubbornness won't save you, Chase. Refuse, and you'll stay on the run, forever looking over your shoulder until the maggots put you down. You're a danger, and if you're no use to them, you won't survive. I won't save you a third time."

Chase chokes. "A third?"

Anti's voice lowers, regaining some of the rasp it once had, before the gaping wound on his neck disappeared without a sign of its existence. "Make your choice."

The picture burns a hole in Chase's pocket. Other than the tattered, filthy clothes streaked with blood, dirt, and sweat, it's the only thing he has left to his name. The only tie he has to the person he once was. The only sign that before IRIS, before Anti, Chase had a life. He had something to return to, to live for.

What use is a memento of the last light of his life when it's flickered out?

He pulls out the polaroid and burns the image into his retinas, searing into his memory the bright, joyful, loving faces of his family. He kisses the image as a final goodbye, then offers it like a lifeline.

"It's all I have."

Anti studies the picture, studies every inch of Chase's face, and studies the hand reaching out to him. He slips the picture away and clamps a hand over Chase's.

"You made the right choice, Chase. Welcome home."

@seaswalllow @asteriuszenith @pixie-in-trebleland

[wodania]

ASOIAF modern AU notes 💕

Summerhall was an old age home that Egg had been sent to by his kids Jaehaerys and Shaera, Egg accidentally burnt it down and died alongside fellow senior Dunk, and Egg’s other son, Duncan. Rhaegar was born on the front lawn of the old age home beside a fire truck 💕

Rhaegar does ukulele and acapella covers on the early days of the internet, and he’s only famous bc he’s the presidents son. His posts got rlly fucking weird in his final days before he mysteriously died while visiting his cousin Robert. Probably on those reddit icebergs under “darkest videos ever uploaded”.

Every one just accepted the fact that Rhaegar and Jon were dating even though they straight up weren’t, magazines were reporting on it with photos of the two together and captions like “Elia writing divorce papers??? See more on page 69!” (they definitely slept with each other AT LEAST once though, confirmed by a high end reporter’s audio recording, possibly Varys, who Jon trauma dumped to while super high)

Golden Company is a biker gang someone put that in my tags once and it stuck. Jon went from appearing in the kind of stuff the heir to a company and friend to the presidents son would appear in (rlly corporate looking images and interviews plus a few photos of him playing golf or something) to the wildest vids and photos of golden company biker gang parties imaginable. He was a fugitive but Aerys and Robert and Cersei all didn’t consider him high priority so he’s just been let wild.

Young Griff dresses like a sports brand ambassador and is actually probably a sports brand ambassador thanks to his double nepotism (father was rhaegar and other father was Jon). Young Griff accidentally caught Jon in one of his instagram lives and the internet went wild over the sight of Jon actually doing something normal for once. Young Griff is Aegon’s stage name, taken from Jon’s biker gang era nickname Griff.

There’s CCTV footage of Jaime killing Aerys but Tywin payed off the cops so it’s okay. Conspiracy videos on YouTube about it get copyright flagged when they show the footage.

Loras and Renly are some of the most controversial men on the web bc on one hand they are gay but on the other they are gym bros and Loras had a misogynist era when a video of him calling Brienne a wench at one of Renly’s parties surfaced. Mace had to do damage control. Loras also probably made a post like “hate when other gays flaunt their gayness” when he was 14 and everyone always brings it up (he still stands by it). Mace again has to do damage control.

Renly later died at one of his party’s due to what was attributed to ‘accidental causes’, but many, including Loras, believe that there is something deeper to it. Brienne was arrested for suspicion of committing the murder but was let go after like a day. Jaime payed off most of the ppl who accused her, but Loras is vocal about hating Jaime and he regularly insults him under his posts.

Robb was a presidential candidate who got murdered at his uncles wedding and it was a big deal and the true crime community was all over it the moment the news dropped. Jaime is under investigation… again. Videos are still getting copyrighted.

Bolton house got raided by some government agents and they found Theon and a bunch of human skins in the basement. The media had a field day with that one. Asha attacked the press when they tried to get photos.

Robert still got mauled by a boar it just got caught on camera this time. It’s like the JFK assassination tape in that it’s super accessible and on YouTube under age restriction bc it’s “educational”.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Hello! I'm back! I planned the next 3 chapters on the plane, so I thought writing would be easier.

I was wrong. Chapter got hands. Anyways hope you enjoy more of concussed Soap lmao

Alejandro led them to the main complex, through a series of roads connecting the prison. Ghost kept an eye on the sky, watching Garrick shoot Shadows from above.

“Bravo!” the Sergeant radios in, “Shadows approaching your position, I don’t have a clear shot. Incoming from your 9, Ghost.”

He and Rudy exchange a look, “copy, keep thinning them out.” Ghost replies, taking note of Soap’s glassy stare.

“We got hostiles inbound?” Johnny asks excitedly, wiggling his fingers, “I’ll take care o’ them LT, you can kick back and relax-”

“Oh no, Sergeant,” Ghost grabs the strap on the back of Soap’s vest, “you’re staying right here with me until your head is screwed on right.” 

He ignores Johnny’s useless attempts at persuading Ghost to let him go, and turns to the Vaqueros, “you can take care of a few Shadows, right? Me and Johnny can go check the CCTV.”

Alejandro smirks at the bumbling Sergeant in his hands, “you got it, hermano. We’ll meet you there.”

Rudy spots a soldier rushing towards them, running ahead and instantly freezing the Shadow. He grabs the rifle the unhuman dropped and cracks it down on the frozen soldier, shattering him.

The Sergeant Major throws the gun to Alejandro, shouting at Ghost and Soap, “go!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Ghost drags Johnny towards the room he remembers marked ‘Security’ on Rudy’s map.

“I could’a destroyed ‘em oll in a second, Ghostie…” Johnny moans.

Ghost sighs for the twentieth time since entering the room, “I know, Johnny.” He notes of the several cells full of men in block B, Shadows swarming the halls. The Vaqueros.

Soap gives him what could be ‘puppy-eyes’ from the chair Ghost has put him in timeout in (his words), “yer so mean, Simon.”

He looks up from the monitor he’s been fiddling with to level his Sergeant with a stare, “I know. Now focus on healing your bloody brain so you can actually help.”

Soap opens his mouth to retort, but he abruptly closes it, eyes widening.

“...Johnny?”

Soap’s cheeks flush, “Simon, I am so sorry, I don’t know what teh fuck I was saying…” Johnny rubs at his eyes, “fuckin’ talkin’ about how pretty yer eyelashes are.”

Ghost huffs, smile stretching his hidden lips, “you said eyes before. Good to know you like those too.”

Johnny looks like he got caught with his pants down, before his usual sense of confidence takes over, “I can tell ye I like a whole lot more than just that-”

“If I have to hear you muppets flirt one more time, I’m going to consider staying in this fuckin’ shithole, fucking hell…”

“Price?!” Ghost and Soap exclaim together, “Where are you?!”

“Graves isolated me, the fuckin’ bastard…” the Captain grumbles in their minds, “you got Gaz with you, correct?”

“Yes sir.” Ghost confirms.

“Good. You two, get Farah and Alex out, they should be in block C. Graves got Shadows trained on Alex at all times to keep Farah in check, so you’ll need to work quiet and fast.”

Ghost switches cameras, finding block C and the two revenants.

Soap’s voice fills his mind, “what about you, Captain?”

“Kyle will get me, there’s a window right in front of my cell. Tell him to get to the tallest building, block A.”

“Copy, glad to hear you’re solid, Price.” Ghost gets off the computer, patting Johnny’s shoulder, “I’ll inform Vargas and Parra of the Vaqueros’ location and head for Karim and Keller.”

“Good copy. Keep yourselves safe.”

“Out here.” 

Rudy and Alejandro meet them on the way out, both clearly frazzled and adrenaline-fueled. “Found anyone?” Rudy asks between pants.

“Vaqueros are on block B.” Ghost switches his comms on, “Garrick, Price talked to us, he’s on the top of block A, should be a window. Get him and meet us at-”

“The front gates.” Alejandro finishes, “there are several trucks for us to use, the Vaqueros will clear the way out.”

“Copy, on my way.” Gaz relays.

Soap checks his rifle’s ammo one last time, “me and Ghost’ll go for Farah and Alex, we’ll join the fight on the gates.”

Rudy pats both their shoulders, nodding assuredly, and turns to leave with Alejandro towards block B.

Soap smiles up at him, a dangerous edge to the way fire licks around his gun, “time for us to wipe out some Shadows, aye?”

Ghost smirks, “on you, Sergeant.”

Johnny is truly a thing of beauty on the field. A firestorm, unstoppable blaze, vaporizing dark figures as easily as breathing.

Ghost watches his six, taking down any stray Shadows making a move at him, but for the most part he gets to admire the Sergeant, the flowing way he explodes soldiers.

It would scare him, how beautiful Johnny is. If it wasn’t so distractedly brilliant.

“Clear!” Soap calls ahead, fire ebbing between his fingertips, dark marks on the walls all that’s left of his enemies.

Ghost hums, “good work, Sergeant. Our revenants should be right up ahead, stay sharp.”

Johnny grins, his step a little more energetic when he rounds the corner, “aye sir.”

Ghost and Soap reach block C, marked by huge letters on the walls. They both drop to a crouch, finding a single cell with about a dozen Shadows guarding it.

Ghost holds up one, then two fingers, pointing ahead. He closes his fist and Johnny nods, tensing up in preparation.

His Sergeant waits for his mark.

Ghost opens his hand, motioning forward.

Shadows erupt into smoke, metal bars sizzle and melt. The fight is over in a blink of an eye.

He walks over dark soot on the dirty prison floor, approaching Commander Karim, who has a bewildered expression on her face. She and Keller are tied to chairs, facing each other. 

“Lieutenant.” she tilts her head.

Ghost whips out a knife, swiftly cutting through her bindings, “Commander.” Johnny went ahead and freed Alex as well.

“That’s some serious firepower you got there, Soap. You sure you don’t want to come with us to Urzikstan?” Alex jokes as he rubs at his raw wrists.

Johnny laughs, smiling at Ghost, “sorry, got previous reservations.”

“Bummer.” the American sighs, taking the rejection easily.

Ghost grabs a pistol that looks decently unburnt and tosses it to Farah, “the Vaqueros are working on clearing a path for our extraction, we’re going to join as additional support. Sergeant Garrick is getting the Captain.”

Commander Karim sharply nods after checking the gun, “we’ll come with you, I got unfinished business with that dog Graves.” she looks at Alex, who finds a gun for himself as well.

Ghost presses the button on his radio, “Rudy, we got Karim and Keller, on our way to you. What’s your status?”

Gunshots sound through the tinny mic before he answers, “Graves is trying to push us back, we’re holding currently! Backup will be appreciated!”

The four of them start towards the Vaqueros, “on our way, Parra. Hold strong.”

“Always, Fantasma.”

Soap turns on his comms as well, “Gaz? Got the Captain?”

“No- will try- around-” Garrick’s voice cuts off, the wind too strong for it to come through.

“Bad copy, Sergeant, repeat.” Ghost joins on their line.

“Working on it!”

“Copy, get to the gate once you’re done.”

The front gates are a mess of powers, ice and fire blooming on the dirt road. The battlefield sounds almost deafening.

Alex and Farah run ahead, Keller disappearing from view and the Commander right in tow, deflecting bullets left and right. Ghost can see Rudy ahead, turning Shadows into ice sculptures for Alejandro to shatter with well-placed shots.

Ghost grabs Soap before he can join them, “stick close, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.” Johnny doesn’t even look up, running and plowing through hails of bullets. Ghost goes off to the edges of the battle, picking off stragglers and sending them to the void. He only lets Limbo out for a second, the victims taking hold of the Shadows and dragging them back with them.

From the outside, it looks like they were swollen by darkness. An act that has earned Ghost his terrifying reputation.

Soap spots him from beyond the field, throwing him a thumbs up, “good work, LT! Fuckin’ beautiful, sir.”

“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” he mutters as he takes two more Shadows off this realm.

“Tactical compliments, sir. It’s all the rage these days.” Johnny snickers, and he rolls his eyes fondly.

The fight is missing someone… “Garrick, status.”

Gaz’s line is dead. Ghost stops in his tracks, “Gaz, sitrep, now.” nothing.

Fuck. He switches to the main line, “anyone had eyes on Gaz in the last 15 minutes?”

“Negative, saw him go into the tower at block A about 30 minutes ago.” Alejandro replies.

Ghost’s heart races faster, his voice level, “I’m going to go find them, Soap, on me-”

The Shadows on the field start laughing, voice garbling into a demonic cackling.

“Took you long enough to notice, Lieutenant.”

Ghost grabs the nearest Shadow, “what the fuck did you do with them?” he coldly smashes the Shadow’s head with his knee.

The broken body falls, Graves’ voice still clear, “you want your little teammates? Better come to the courtyard, Ghost… oh, and bring the Sergeant with you, would ya? I’ve got a few… choice words to exchange with him.”

Ghost stomps the soldier’s head, shutting the American up for good. He locks eyes with Johnny, heart attempting to beat out of his chest.

“Clock’s ticking, Simon Riley…” Shadows whisper around him.

Soap runs to him, face confused and enraged, “what did he say, Simon?! Where are Price and Gaz?”

“Courtyard…”

Johnny looks back, before staring at Ghost, “well? What are we waiting for?”

Sometimes, Ghost feels like his gut can tell the future. With the way it churned and turned before he was thrown into that grave. How it ached to spill out when Soap asked him to promise, sign a death sentence on his Sergeant.

In the ice burning his insides, as he watches stars reflect in Johnny’s eyes, awaiting the command, ready to follow him into certain doom. Right into the snake’s den.

Ghost take Soap’s hand, silently starting to walk towards the courtyard.

His gut screams at him to stop, to curl bloodied hands around his Sergeant, protect him from malicious shadows.

Ghost’s mind, however, a soldier’s, a leader’s, tells him to keep walking.

The Shadows ignore them, splitting before them like the Red Sea. 

Johnny pulls at his hand, making him meet his eyes.

“We’re connected now, Simon. In a way Graves, hell no one else, can understand.” he smiles softly, “they can’t separate us.”

His words hold so much conviction, so much confidence and yet also care, the ice in his gut melts.

The thawed water tells Ghost he will live to regret that.

“We go together.” Simon squeezes a burning hand.

Fire binds them, an unbreakable vow. “Together.”

Graves sees Soap and Ghost happy and asks himself "how can I ruin their day this time?"

[jenn0wow]

Nightwing finds out Oracle is human quick fic

Nightwing sat on the ledge of a building, waiting patiently as ordered.

“You know who I wish I could call to help me.” Nightwing thought out loud. “…Batgirl. She’d already be five steps ahead of me. Somehow she’d be in the truck already.”

“That’s…” There was a crack in Oracle’s voice. The thing he once thought was a robot, just a computer, suddenly became human. “That’s too bad. She’s out of commission. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”

“Are you okay?” He asked.

There was silence. Barbara stared at her screen. Her breath felt shaky. It’s been a few months since her and Dick had really spoken to each other. To keep her sanity, she pretended he didn’t think about her much anymore. Didn’t miss her. Maybe even hated her. It was easier that way.

“The arrival time of the box truck is only five minutes according to cctv in the area.” She finally said. “Make sure you have the tracker ready.”

Nightwing started preparing the tracker, pressing a few buttons and twisting it once to ready it for when he needed to place it. He then smirked after he thought for a moment.

“You jealous?” He thought he’d play a small game with Oracle. Test the computer a bit.

Barbara knotted her eyebrows. “I don’t get jealous. Focus on your mission.”

“Do you feel anything?” Dick said, still thinking he was talking to an AI.

Barbara clutched her mouse and bit her tongue before saying, “I wish I could.”

Nightwing saw the truck in the distance. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“No, not really.”

“Someone not program you with emotions?”

Barbara rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. “Have you ever been in pain for so long that you start to feel nothing?”

Nightwing grew quiet. “Maybe.”

“That’s why.”

Nightwing hopped onto the roof of the truck. “So you are human?”

Barbara smiled a little. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“Sorry, I really thought, ya know…you were a computer or something.” He set the tracker on the top of the truck. It latched on and started blinking.

The tracker showed up on a map on one of her screens. “I got the signal. So you think I’m like Siri?” She replied.

“Yeah, or Alexa. Which ever you prefer.” Nightwing takes a small laser from her belt and draws a circle on the truck’s roof. The metal melts and a perfect hole is created for him to jump into. “You’re just so fast with finding things.”

“I made sure to invest in really good computers.” Barbara said. “Make sure to check the unlabeled boxes.”

He looks around and spots a few with no labels. “How do I know you’re really a real person and not some AI who thinks they’re real?”

Barbara leaned toward and propped her elbows on her desk. “You’re just gonna have to trust me, Dick Grayson.”

The hairs on his neck pricked up at the sound of his name. Every time Oracle said his name it gave him the heeby jeebies. She does it often too like she’s bragging.

“So how old are you then?” Dick started rummaging through unlabeled boxes. “25? 85? 7 years old?”

“I’m not telling you personal information about myself. That’s the whole point of having a secret identity.”

“Okay, hypocrite. I know that because that’s why I have a secret identity and yet you know everything about me so really it’s only fair you tell me something about you.” He moved a box to the side to look inside another one.

“Unfortunately for you, that isn’t how our relationship is supposed to work.” Barbara said. “It works better if you don’t know me.” She crossed her arms close to her body. Really, it was better this way.

“Bummer.” Dick said, “I’m sure I’ll figure out something about you soon. I’m quite the detective, you know.”

“Okay, sure.” She tried not to sound too dismissive. Detective work wasn’t Dick’s strength, but he was better than most.

“You likeeee chocolate ice cream, wear socks to bed, anddddd like scary movies.”

Barbara swallowed a laugh. “No, no, and no.”

Dick smiled. “Now I know three things about you. You don’t like chocolate ice cream, you don’t like wearing socks to bed, and you don’t like scary movies. See, this’ll be breeze for me.”

Barbara couldn’t help, but smile. She missed this. She covered her face with her hands. What has she gotten herself into now?

“Found it!” Dick exclaimed, holding a metal capsule. “Now what?”

Barbara quickly looked up at the computer screen and looked at the map. “Um, get out of there now.”

Dick felt the truck slow to a stop. “Oh, poop.”

[euphroseia]

The Strongest

Felix x gn!reader

Word count: 868 words

Genre: non-idol!au, angst

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of liquor intoxication, not mentioned but implied suicide

If you liked my writing, please give me a reblog. I’d appreciate it and it will help me a lot! You can also let me know your thoughts about the story here. Thank youuuu! 💗

“Would it have been better if I was the one who died and not her?” You ask the person on the other side of the phone as you stare at nothing but darkness; you question but you don’t want to hear the answer. Wandering over the thoughts that have lingered in your brain, getting lost in the feelings that cling to your heart that will never leave you anymore. You don’t want them to leave either, because after all, they’re the only ones who stayed and remained with you.

Losing your sister was hard for you too, but why do they act and make you feel as if you should have died in her place instead? You almost died as well, you were in that accident too. Months of therapy, both physical and mental, did not help at all. The injuries healed, but the random pain on different parts of your body when the nights are cold? They are still with you. The memories of your sister slowly losing her breath barging into your dreams after finally being able to sleep? They never left. They hunted you and you are sure they will keep on hunting you as long as you are alive.

It was not your fault, it wasn’t anyone in your car’s fault. The driver of the truck that bumped into your car was drunk, and you? You were driving safely and observing traffic rules properly. You have always been a careful driver.

The truck driver has already been jailed. Your relatives and everyone close to you and your sister have seen the footage of what happened, but still, they chose to make you get eaten up by guilt.

You never believed them, of course, even if you have to swallow all the painful words and blames your family has thrown at you. You know the truth, you were there and after recovering, you saw the CCTV footage where the accident had occurred as well. But when the person you least expected to, heck, you never once did, told you that it was your fault his girlfriend died, you can’t help but believe that if it weren’t for you, she would still be here with him.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” His words felt more painful than a stab piercing directly into your heart. Twisting the knife from left to right, making you bleed until you lose all your blood. The strong facade you had to build with the courage you weren’t even sure you had, crumpled down as soon as you heard what Felix said. Felix doesn’t sound mad, but you know he is. You know him very well, maybe more than how your sister knew him; after all, he is your best friend. You can feel his wrath even on the other side of the phone.

He knows you very well too. You won’t even doubt it if he says he knows you more than you know yourself. And that is why, that is why, hearing him say those words has made you question everything you knew and saw. Maybe it was really your fault. If you were not the one who picked up your older sister from the airport, then maybe she would still be here with all of you; or at least what they want, with them.

“Would things be better if I am gone?” You asked again, but this time, you rephrase the question. As much as you don’t want him to answer, you couldn’t care less anymore. Surviving what happened to you and your sister, is death itself. What’s the point of living when everyone is slowly trying to kill you.

You heard him sob. You want him to say no, you need him to. Maybe you said everyone made you feel they wish you died instead of your sister, but Felix? He didn’t. He visited you in the hospital while you were recovering and taking your therapies. Felix brought food to your apartment when he called and you told him you weren’t hungry even if it has been days since you last ate. He was the only reason you stayed, and if the only reason finally slips away from your hand too, then continuing is not an option anymore.

“Y-yes. Yes” He sobbed more and more, cries echoing through the phone; it was so loud, you can’t hear anything else. But what he said was clearer than any crystal, despite him stuttering.

You felt the last string tied onto you and Felix, connecting you two together, snapped. You are not even exaggerating for hearing your heart get torn apart. But you were glad he found the courage to tell you that. It must have been so excruciating for him to take care of the person behind his lover’s death. Hearing him tell you what he really was feeling, means he doesn’t want to lie to you anymore.

“Okay, Felix. Thank you and I love you. Things will start getting better now,” were the last words you mustered before ending the call.

He was courageous for telling you the truth, but you were the strongest for enduring everything and holding on for as long as you could.

[jenyifer]

Dead Friend Forever ep 1 initial reaction

Upfront I don’t really like Blood it makes me panic. So I’m doing a hands over the screen watch only the subs approach. I do Love horror because it’s a hop skip and a jump away from sci-fi the ultimate genre for making something that will actually surprise me. So I’m gonna try watching it this way. However I have noticed a lot of shakey cam which kind of makes me ill. Hopefully having it on the tiny screen will help. But let’s get into it

First don’t ride in the back of a truck like this for any reason. I grew up in the American south where trucks are plenty and so is the amount of Teens who fall off the back of a truck “only going 15 secs to the football field” and die from cracking their skull open. There’s no a little bit dead.

Secondly, in university I went to cabin in the woods party with my roommate. I told her I’d keep her from getting into any trouble and stay sober. The engineering frat rented out this cabin in the middle of nowhere. No cell signal. Had to go down a dirt road to get there. Top floor was bunk beds bottom floor was drinking and games. Now going to this thing was one of the worst things ever. I kept my roommate safe but that couldn’t be said for everyone we went with people lost their phones in the woods slept in the grass next to their on vomit etc. no one was killed but I’ll say this being in the woods when the bonfire has died looking for someone is horrific cause your in the woods you hear shit. It happens.

Anyways story over let’s go

They made a film then left the camera and film at the house???? Seems believable

Sooo only… orange shirt and baby face haven’t met Non? I was thinking the guy in the purple shirt and Tan also hadn’t met him. But is this a club of some sort? I think the timeline of events might me fucked by the translation

Oh what an adorable protagonist I assume cause 1 I recognize him 2 he’s wearing orange like the baby face gay boy.

Omph why would you let a pretty boy like Jin go? He’s such a cutie. Also main boy does seem like you are the one who is desperate. Seems like they were a thing in the past which raises questions of timeline ages of these kids but I’ll ignore it.

Great meme format wish I could have seen the initial reaction from everyone else also house is kitted out with this high power CCTV cam but no phone that works? Very sus

Okay main boy is good in crisis they did exactly what they needed to do. Don’t remove the impaled object everyone. Idk about keeping him alive for 2 days that way. He seems to be puking blood so… it’s not a good sign. He’ll need water and food. But it looks like that’s not going to go down well

Might be inappropriate but I love these two massive men on the scooter. Reminds me of Niffler taking Leela in his space ship in Futurama. Also idk how human this thing is at the moment unless it’s both Trauma from whatever happened to Non

Oh I hope so.

Now let me tell you what I’d do in this situation. We maybe have a killer who attacked Por. Or we might be blamed for his death. So hold up in a defendable space. Maybe pick one with a bathroom but they are boys so…. Smartest move would be the CCTV room or room next to it. Barricade doors windows and stay in there until morning. Find tire for bike. Send out some peeps to find help but do it in the morning.

[tyler-lawson]

Tailgating - 01

For many, the college football match between State and Metro was the biggest event of the year. The stadium had capacity for 50,000 people, and it was also booked to overflowing for the event. For me, State v Metro just meant sweet overtime and having to deal with a bunch of drunk frat bros. And this year was no exception.

I was assigned to monitor the parking lot, and that meant being at the event extra early to try and keep a lid on the tailgaters so the festivities don't get out of hand. I was out walking the lot when I got a call from dispatch that CCTV had identified a male subject suspected of stealing phones and other small, high-value items from revellers when they were not paying attention. They were tracking him, and he was just two car rows over from me.

I quickly ducked over, pushing through a couple of groups of partiers before I got a glimpse of him. 20, maybe, black shirt, black NYC baseball hat, black skinny jeans. He was sagging his black jeans over a pair of grey boxer briefs. Holding two phones, and it looked like he had a few others stashed around his pants.

I plotted his likely route, and ducked over one more row, hoping to get ahead of him. My plan worked, and I saw him step out just one car ahead of me. "Police! Stop!" I call out. He glances behind himself and sees me. He calculates things a bit in his head before stopping.

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, sir, I am." I said stepping up to him. "I am going to need you to put your hands behind your back." I say, grabbing one of his wrists.

He pulls his wrist away from me quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let go of me. You have no right to stop me. I didn't do anything wrong." He complained, looking me up and down and sizing me up.

I take a half step back. I am a couple inches taller than him, and looking down on him slightly. "I can stop you, detain you and obtain your identification. State statute 26.1 - a."

"I don't care about your fucking statutes. I didn't do anything. You have no right to stop me." He repeats, stepping back and starting to turn.

I step up to him, grabbing his shoulders and slam his body against the hood of the pickup truck he was standing next to. He flings his hands out and smacks them against the hood, his chest bent over the hood.

"Fuck, man. That hurt. This is police brutality. What is your badge number?" He starts, speaking quickly and raising his voice.

I grab his right wrist off the hood of the truck and yank it behind his back. He picks up his foot instinctively feeling the pain of his being forced behind his back. I unbuckle my cuffs and unfold them, slapping one around his wrist. I hit the button on them to double-lock them. I hold the hinged cuffs behind his back, twisting his wrist painfully up behind his back. I starts wriggling and stretches his left arm straight up past his head, trying to keep his hand away from me.

"What the hell man? Help me, please!" He yells out.

"Sir, give me your other arm." I instruct, grabbing his elbow and starting to apply pressure to it.

He continues flailing his arm above his head.

"You can't do this. I am innocent."

"Sir, I am just detaining you so I can get your ID. Just give me your hand." I say. I stick my knee behind his, and begin pressing in against his quad. I continue twisting his arm up behind his back, it is now bent at a 45 degree angle at the elbow, his hand helplessly flapping around trying to grab onto something.

"Ow! Fuck! My arm! You are going to break it."

"Stop resisting and put your hands behind your back." I continue instructing.

He keeps flailing, but one of the moves pushing his elbow just far enough down that I am able to get a grip and force it backward. I pull it back in a chicken-wing position, then reach my hand through his elbow and grab his wrist.

"Ow! Fuck, man. Stop hurting me." He started to whine as I grabbed his wrist and painfully pivoted it, pulling it behind his back. I drag his wrist painstakingly behind his back, until it is close enough and I can slam it into the waiting cuff. I hit the button to double-lock the other cuff and relax somewhat.

I continue holding my knee against his leg and my shoulder pushing against the center of his back, holding him against the hood of the truck. "Bravo 17-1, one in custody." I call into my wrist-mounted microphone. The response comes back into my earpiece. "Copy Bravo 17-1. Standing by for ID confirmation."

I turn back to my captive. "Sir, as I said, I am detaining you for failing to produce identification." I start feeling for his wallet, rubbing my hands across his boxer-brief clad ass until I realize that he is sagging and his back pockets are much lower. I move my hands down and start digging around for his wallet, which unfortunately for him happens to tug his sagging pants further down until they are almost completely below his ass. I grab a phone from each pocket, glance at them, and put them up on the hood of the truck.

"Jesus, buy me dinner first, dude." He says, clenching his ass in my hands.

"Sir, where is your ID?" I ask, trying to present a professional front as I am enjoying groping his restrained body.

"Front right pocket, asshole." He says, almost indignant. I reach around and start digging my hands into his pocket, finding a wallet and extracting it along with another 2 phones. I flip it open.

"Can I get an ID check on an Ian Banks? DL# 157-8824-90?" I say again, into my wrist. "Sir, do you want to tell me why you are carrying around 4 different phones?"

"Yeah. Your boss calls me on that one, and your dad uses this one." He replies sarcastically.

I roll my eyes and continue holding him against the car as he struggles and squirms.

"Bravo 17-1, ID confirmed. He has two priors, DUI and shoplifting." I hear in my earpiece.

"Alright, Mr. Banks. Right now I am going to arrest you on suspicion of theft."

"What?! Why?" He asks incredulous. "Just cause your boss likes to come down and get some?"

"Sir, you are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?"

"You can understand my dick." He says back.

"I will just take that as a yes." I say, grabbing the phones and slipping them into a pocket of my pants.

"I am going to search you now. Do you have anything on you that is going to poke me, stick me, stab me?"

"Yeah, right in front. That can stab you whenever you want." He spits back.

I pull him off the hood of the car, using the chain of his cuffs to pull his wrists up behind his back. I twist the cuffs against his wrists, pushing the steel bracelets against the bone. He stands briefly, before collapsing to his knees in pain.

"Ow, fuck. Stop. Stop. Fuck."

I grab his hat and visually check it, before dropping it on the ground next to him. I keep twisting the cuffs with one hand while I use my other to brush over his shirt, down his arms, over his chest and pecs, down his abs, along his ribs and down his back. I move lower. Moving my hand over his boxer-brief clad ass again, him flexing from the pain.

"So, you said you had something up here that was going to stick me?" I asked, innocently, moving my hand over his right hip to his crotch. I felt his package, he was clearly turned on, a small wet patch had formed on the right side of front. I carefully moved my hand over his dick, down to his balls, and along his taint.

"Damn, I haven't had this much action since your dad stopped by last night. Ow, fuck." he quipped.

I twisted the cuffs again against his wrists, sending more waves of pain long his arms.

"Seems like you are enjoying this, sir." I said, quietly, my face next to his ear.

"Take the cuffs off and I could give you some good action." He spat back.

"I don't need to take the cuffs off, bitch." I said.

I continued my frisk down to his sagging jeans, my hands digging into each of his pockets. I find another 3 phones in various pockets along with his keys.

"You know what sagging your pants like this means in prison, right?" I asked, grabbing his ass and squeezing. His pants are now completely below his ass after my frisk.

"Yeah, I have been there before. I can get along just fine." He says back, defiantly.

I continue frisking down his legs, lifting each foot off the ground and digging my fingers into his shoes as he kneels there. I find a small bag of marijuana in his shoe and slide it into my pocket as well.

"Looks like I am going to be adding drug possession to your list of crimes."

"Bravo 17-1, will be bringing back a male subject for processing."

"Copy, muster point 3 has a bus waiting."

"Alright, bad boy, get on your feet, let's walk." I say, twisting the cuffs the other way as I drag him to standing. I use the cuffs to guide him through the parking lot, past many of the tailgaters he was just a few moments ago stealing from. Many of them took out their phones to get pictures and videos. Some were already talking to their phones and started commentating the view.

I led my prisoner to a grassy area where there was a transport bus waiting to collect prisoners. We had chairs set up on the grass, I walked him over and forced him to sit down in one. He immediately slid down and spread his legs, lounging as another officer walked over with processing paperwork. The other officer and I conferred over him. He snapped a quick picture of the punk, lounging and sagging his dick still rock hard and outlined by his tight boxer briefs.

Once we finished, another officer brought over a set of transport cuffs and handed them to me. I let the leg irons drop to the ground, holding onto the handcuffs. The chain between the handcuffs and leg irons snapped as they reached the full length.

"Stand up." I ordered, grabbing his elbow and dragging him back to his feet. I stood behind him. "Give me your left foot."

He complied, lifting his foot off the ground. I grabbed his ankle, locked one of the cuffs around it, then let it drop back down. "Other foot." He complied, and I locked the cuff around his other ankle. I let his foot drop, then passed the handcuffs through his legs, so that I was holding them in front of him.

"If you are compliant, I will let you have your wrists in front of you on the bus." I said.

He looked down at them, then back at me.

(Is he smart enough to be a submissive prisoner, or is he going to get the full treatment? To be continued...)

(Thanks to @adbad77 for the photos and inspiration.)