no cameras or recording devices

Humans are space orcs, eh?

I’m new to this, but I love what I’m reading in the feed lately, so, trying my hand!

Some ideas:

What if the greatest diplomacy problem in dealing with humans is that they seem to lie about past events constantly, even to someone who witnessed the same events?  Then it’s discovered that humans have recording devices of all kinds– security cameras, diaries, mp3– and the problem becomes clear.  Humans lie, but not that badly.  The poor, fretful creatures just have a species-wide brain defect.  Kindly aliens take to recording every event and encounter they can, then preface every diplomatic meeting with a record swap so the humans can brush up on what actually happened and the aliens can get some insight into what the humans have been falsely thinking happened.  Ambassadors to Earth get supplementary training in how to handle people with memory impairments, and human ambassadors to other worlds start hiring aliens– ANY aliens– to be their assistants.  Everything smooths out after that.

Religion.  Aliens intellectually understand how religion works and that there are different kinds, but they don’t really “get” it.  The biggest confusion regards whether the humans, who do seem to have some sort of empathic abilities at least, are actually communing with incorporeal beings/forces… and if so, why some humans seem able to commune with more than one, while other humans not at all.  Notable scholars have decided that the rituals and paraphernalia have nothing to do with the beings or forces being communed with, but muddied the matter by suggesting that the rituals may be important for a human’s ability to commune.  Alien non-scholars, eager to accommodate this new species and prove that space is nothing to be afraid of– nobody wants a repeat of the H’j’g’rcxin Xenophobia disaster– simply treat any and all religious requests as vital necessities for their human guests and crewmen.  Accommodation becomes so ordinary that when the first religious argument erupts between an engineer and a navigator, the biggest shock is that one of them objects to the other wearing a turban, something which does not affect work performance in any way.

Styling.  Alien species each have their own primary sense that they rely on, and when they find out that humans primarily rely on sight, well.  Reliant on sight means that surface patterns and colorings are particularly important to them, right?  They will have evolved to be individually distinctive in appearance?  New human crew are automatically assigned a mentor from another vision-reliant species, so someone will be able to tell them apart until the auditory and pheromone labels are attached to their uniforms.  Then Abby comes to mess with a new haircut and sparkly chapstick one day, and the mentor has no idea who she is or how she got aboard.

Word of Stabby the Space Roomba spreads, and soon every ship with a human captain or sufficiently high number of human crew has a Stabby.  Names vary, but most of them are Stabby.  One ship becomes low-key known for sending out broadcasts of Stabby McStabberson, son of Stabberson, son of Stabber, and its adventures stabbing juice boxes in zero-G.

Aesthetics.  Humans have a bewildering tendency to open starmaps or sneak into the scientific observation module at odd times, including with a mate or offspring, and just stare at open space.  Not even particular stars, although they like to study and talk about particular stars and clusters at times, but just, the whole of space.  Why do they do it?  Nobody knows.  Humans behave as though intoxicated during these times, but productivity lowers dramatically if they are barred access– if barring access even works in the first place, given humans’ seemingly endless ability to get into places where they aren’t supposed to be.

Fire.  Due to different atmospheric content, inability to heal from burns, or just plain never needing to cook their food, no alien species has ever utilized fire as a tool.  When humans say that learning to use fire may have been the start of their civilization, everybody believes that the humans are just talking a tough game to make up for their lower technology level, or– once they learn about human hierarchies– to compensate for a perceived lack of political status.  Then a human sees a catastrophic explosion on a hostile planet and laughs.  Then another shushes panicking engineers and smothers an accidental fire with some garments.  Then another builds a bonfire out of dead plantlife and a shredded religious document to warm an injured alien crewman after xir endothermic suit is punctured and the planet rotates away from its sun.  Humans– soft, cuddly, pack-bonds-even-with-inanimate-objects humans– are comfortably in control of the most terrifying force of disaster the galaxy has ever known.  Aliens stop being surprised that we nearly made ourselves extinct so many times in history.

“Why does your larval stage look so similar to your mature stage?  How do you know when a human is old enough to leave the Pit of Offspring?  Or to mate?”

monsta x as strippers

requested:

shownu:

  • cosplay stripper
  • is always in a new costume 
  • who knew a lab coat could look so sexy 
  • probably takes his suspenders off to “spice it up”
  • makes 9k in a night
  • a strict no sex with customers policy 
  • dances for any person as long as they dont smell bad 
  • can become a different man on stage if its one of those nights
  • his shoulders steal the show 

wonho:

  • if it has a shirt dont give it to him
  • anything to a sexy prince to a pet dog
  • comes out in the most dramatic way 
  • “give me you’re hottest man”
  • prolly doesn’t even know what to do but he looks damn fine just standing there 
  • comes up on all the customers
  • gets money thrown at his face
  • prolly comes back with money stuffed in his pants too
  • flirts with the customers
  • regrets what he’s done every night he leaves the stage

minhyuk:

  • the wild stripper
  • has a strict no taking off his underwear policy 
  • does it anyways
  • no shoes no shirt no service 
  • pours your drink on himself 
  • looks like an idiot
  • makes it work anyways 
  • honestly just there for the fun
  • body rolls, nose scrunches, and squinted eyes
  • Serving Looks 

kihyun:

  • the high end stripper
  • only does private dances 
  • its offensive if you ask him to pull a show with an audience
  • doesn’t need costumes, uses himself instead
  • slaps your hand if you touch him
  • has the same customers cause they cant leave him
  • comes back with 10k and that annoys minhyuk
  • has a list of rules he tells you before he starts
  • “no touching unless asked, you dont come to me - i come to you, no phones, recorders, cameras, or devices of any kind, etc.” “i’ll start now.”

hyungwon:

  • doesn’t show up for work
  • doesn’t get fired either cause he makes what the club makes every night
  • shows up once every 2 weeks, 3 if he’s feeling wild
  • doesn’t take off his clothes
  • why see hyungwon stripping when you can have him fully clothed
  • nobody knows how he’s so popular
  • the only people that know of him are the ones that go tho
  • no one even sees him go out what is going on
  • battles with kihyun
  • leaves with a gucci necklace cause they gave him that too

jooheon:

  • “i just came here cause the fries are good”
  • everyone mistook him for a stripper now he is one
  • does any show as long as it pays well
  • has a strict no leaving the stage policy 
  • prolly turns it into a concert 
  • but hey, the only thing that comes off is his shirt so 
  • fights the temptations to become like wonho 
  • doesn’t want to get wild, does it anyways 
  • thinks he makes the most money

i.m:

  • is the guy behind the counter but is asked to dance instead of serving food
  • “should i take off my shirt?” “oh why the hell not”
  • pretty wild
  • minhyuk’s jealous 
  • everyone else leaves the stage 
  • if you didn’t pay him enough, he’ll remember you forever
  • prolly leaves with your wallet on his way out
  • if you dont have his money he takes your stuff instead
  • delivery boy by day stripper by night
  • the whole cities heard of him
‘More boys being yandere? Maybe if their s/o got killed in the killing game, and/or if they confessed they had a crush on someone (like if they were a yandere Bois crush?) ‘

Ok 2 things,A: I’m not sure if I understood this correctly so I’m sorry if this isn’t how you wanted it to be like. And B: THIS IS 7444 WORDS LONG HOLY

Some boys are reacting to their s/o’s death, others are reacting to their s/o having feelings (or possible feelings for other people

Warning: Nudity, suggested sex, violence and swearing under the cut 

Keep reading

2

Walt Disney Animation Studios and Pixar Animation Studios Draw Up Some Serious Magic at D23 Expo

Saldy there will no be a Disney Television Animation Panel this year at D23 Expo,but we have some upcoming stuff at Disney Films 

Friday, July 14

Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios: The Upcoming Films, Hosted by John Lasseter (2:30 p.m., Hall D23) –– Join host John Lasseter, chief creative officer of Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios, as he presents Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios: The Upcoming Films. Watch never-before-seen footage from Pixar’s upcoming feature Coco and Walt Disney Animation’s Ralph Breaks the Internet: Wreck-It Ralph 2, and be prepared for surprise announcements, musical performances, and appearances by star voice talent. Cell phones, cameras, and all recording devices will be checked for this presentation.

Saturday, July 15

The Power of the Princess (10:30 a.m., Stage 28) –– Join hosts Walt Disney Animation Studios animators Amy Smeed and Kira Lehtomaki as the voice actresses behind some of your favorite Disney heroines––Jodi Benson (Ariel), Ming-Na Wen (Mulan), Anika Noni Rose (Tiana), and Auli‘i Cravalho (Moana)––take the stage to share stories from the sound booth and beyond.

Creating the Worlds in Pixar’s Universe (12:15 p.m., Stage 28) –– Pixar production designers and artists will literally take guests behind the scenes on a visual tour of the amazing worlds created in Pixar films––from oceans and outer space, to mountain tops and “monstropolises.”

Olaf’s Frozen Adventure: A Sneak Peek at the New Frozen Short Film (2:30 p.m., Stage 28) –– Be among the first to see exclusive and behind-the-scenes footage from Walt Disney Animation Studios’ newest Frozen holiday short film event, the highly anticipated Olaf’s Frozen Adventure. The film, which features the talents of the original Frozen cast, as well as brand-new songs, is directed by the Emmy®-winning team Stevie Wermers-Skelton and Kevin Deters (Prep & Landing) and produced by Oscar®-winning producer Roy Conli (Big Hero 6, Tangled).

The Evolution of Pixar’s Characters (6 p.m., Stage 28) –– Pixar characters are full of personality––from the waves in their hair to the shoes on their feet. Join some of the legendary Pixar artists behind its most memorable characters as they share what it’s like to draw these loveable characters to life.

Sunday, July 16

Bambi’s 75th Anniversary (11:30 a.m., Walt Disney Archives Stage) –– Celebrate the 75th anniversary and Walt Disney Signature Collection release of Bambi with personal stories from the voice cast, anecdotes behind the making of this film and its exquisite hand-drawn artwork, and much, much more.

Daddy's Gun

She could feel the cold barrel of the gun as it pressed underneath her chin. It was a pretty weapon, a large purple revolver with solid gold embellishments and a crowned skull emblazoned on the side. Red rubies winked in the eye sockets, glimmering as Dr. Harleen Quinzel felt the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“M-M-Mr. J…” she stammered.

“Shut up,” he growled.

“P-P-Please… please don’t kill me.”

“I said shut… the fuck… up.” The metal jammed harder into head, rapping against the bone of her jaw.

Oh, the irony was rich. She was the one that had brought him the revolver, after he’d asked her for a machine gun during their last session and she’d told him she had no way to get it. He’d dictated a phone number to her, asking her to repeat it back to him three times to ensure she would remember it. He told her to call the number and say the magic words, the rest would be handled.

She’d frowned.

“The magic words?”

“Abracadabra!” He’d said with a theatrical flourish, then threw back his head and cackled with delight at the joke.

She’d called the number and spoken the magic words - abracadabra - into the phone when a male voice picked up, only to be greeted by a swift ‘click’ in her ear.

“Some joke,” she’d grumbled.

The next day, the gun arrived on her doorstep.

It was packaged in a shiny silver box with a red foil bow, looking like nothing so much as a fancy Christmas present. A simple golden tag read, ‘For J.’

She’d brought it into her apartment quickly, unwrapping it in the front hallway to find the magnificent purple gun winking up at her. It had felt warm when she lifted it, feeling the satisfying weight of it in her hands.

She had done it. She had actually done it.

And sneaking it into Arkham hadn’t even been hard. She wore metal tipped stilettos in that day, and all the silver jewelry she owned. Tucking the gun between her legs before she got out of her car, she held her breath as she passed through the metal detector and it went off. Giving the security guard a sheepish smile, she kicked her toes against the ground, throwing up sparks, and then held out her arms, which were covered in bracelets and rings. After taking an additional look at her layered necklaces and dangling earrings, he distractedly waved her through and went back to reading his newspaper.

Now she was pressed up against the wall in the solitary room where they had their sessions, the muzzle of the semi automatic jammed into her throat.

His straightjacket was a puddle of white fabric on the floor; she’d freed him from it the moment the door closed behind her, as she had done a hundred times before. The first time they kissed over the table, he’d had it on, which thrilled her, the sense of power, of control she had over him; she had a feeling he’d sensed that, because the next session he demanded she release him after the guards left. And how could she say no to him? She would do anything for him.

But today, after she pulled the gun out, he’d pounced, taking it from her outstretched hand and pinning her against the wall in one smooth motion. Once they’d begun… SEEING each other, she’d demanded there be no cameras or recording devices in the room, going straight to the board of the asylum and claiming it violated doctor-patient confidentiality. They’d reluctantly agreed as long as she wore a panic button which, naturally, she’d stopped carrying months ago. It was just her and the Joker for the next 90 minutes.

Would she be dead within the next five?

“Please, I did everything you asked me to,” she whispered.

“You did EVERYTHING I asked you to, sweet little Harleen.” He eased up on the pressure, moving the gun from side to side, tracing her pulse as it jumped around her throat. “And Daddy is very proud of you. I knew you had it in you.”

“So, what are you…”

“You question me?” He snapped, cutting her off. The gun pushed into her chin again.

She tried shaking her head, but couldn’t move.

“No, Mr. J.”

“Tell me how you got it in here.”

“I wore jewelry, so when the detector beeped-”

“Not that!” He bristled and she pushed back into the wall as far as she could go, trying to ease away from the revolver. His grip tightened and the gun followed her. “WHERE did you hide it?”

“Oh.” Despite herself, Harleen blushed. “I… I…”

“Yes?” He grinned, the metal grill shining in the dim fluorescent light overhead. Just looking at his silver smile made her feel dizzy with attraction, despite his orange Arkham jumpsuit and the fact that he was holding a gun to her head.

Or maybe because of it.

The longer he held it, the less afraid she felt; if he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet, surely he wasn’t going to kill her? The fear began to drain out of her, replaced by a peculiar tingling in the pit of her stomach.

“I- I hid it in between my legs,” she said in a quiet voice.

He clucked his tongue like a hen. “What a naughty little girl you are, Harleen.” He nuzzled the gun against her chin as gently as a lover buries their face in the crook of their beloveds neck. With his free hand, he trailed his large, square palm through her hair and down her torso, until he reached the hem of her tight pencil skirt.

“Where?”

Her eyes widened. Swallowing, she moved her smaller hands down to meet his. Grasping his one hand in between both of hers, she gently pushed it under her skirt, to where the gun holster lay smooth against her inner left thigh.

“There.”

It was a simple loop of leather that she had picked up in a pawn shop in one of the seedier parts of Gotham. A pouch could be clipped onto the circle, and the gun fitted snugly inside.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the clerk had remarked as she paid for it in cash. He’d told her how to work it - “Ya just belt it on ya leg and put the piece in” - then sent her on her way. It rode high up her leg, sitting just under her lace underwear, and she could feel the Joker’s long, white fingers as they skimmed over her skin.

“Oh, God, you’re so GOOD,” he breathed, rubbing his hand over the leather around her leg. Without loosening his grip on the gun, he leaned in, hungrily covering her mouth with his.

The tingling sensation in her stomach intensified, spreading throughout her entire body. Whenever he kissed her, it felt like the world stopped. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except his kisses. And in a way, the gun made it even better, the complete and utter control he had over her in that moment, and the complete and utter trust she had, the faith she had that he wouldn’t shoot her.

He wouldn’t shoot her. She knew in her gut, in her BONES, that he wouldn’t shoot her.

No longer the slightest bit afraid, she threw herself into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. The tiniest misstep by either of them and she’d certainly be dead, heightening the exhilarating pleasure of the moment. He kept his rock solid grip on the gun, his other hand moving higher and higher between her legs. She gasped as he touched her thin panties then curled his fingers into the fabric, ripping them. She could feel moisture running down her legs as he stroked her, and her body quivered with pleasure.

“Move your hands,” he moaned into her mouth. Instinctively, she knew what he wanted her to do. Drawing back and staring him in the eyes, she placed both of her hands around the gun at her chin. Perfect trust. Total love. Her small, warm hands wrapped around his large, cold one, with his finger on the trigger.

He growled and bit her cheek. Working the fingers of his other hand faster and faster, he brought her to a pulsating climax. She pressed her lips together to avoid crying out; she didn’t want the guards to hear and investigate. Instead, she turned completely inward, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she crested on wave after wave of sensation.

She wanted to moan in agony when she felt the barrel of the gun leave her throat. Her hands fell, limp by her sides, as he took the weapon away.

“No…” Before she could stop herself, the word slipped out of her mouth. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in surprise. Lips red as a cherry, hair glowing emerald green in the light, he had an otherworldly beauty. She just wanted him to POSSESS her. It was frightening in its ferocity.

“So you like Daddy’s gun?” He asked in a low voice. It was almost like he couldn’t believe it; like he’d been expecting to scare her, and he was the one that ended up scared by her reaction.

“Y-Yes.” Her voice shook. She had liked it. She could still feel the ghostly imprint of it pressed under her chin.

He pressed the cold metal against her chest, the side of it, this time. She could feel it, heavy against her sternum, before it slid lower, across her stomach, and lower still.

“How much do you like it?”

Harleen knew what he was asking her, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. They had already done things in this room, but this- this was unspeakable.

His free hand drifted up and curled tightly in her hair, jerking her head backward.

“I asked you a question, little girl.”

“I love it, Daddy,” she admitted truthfully, cheeks burning. His own eyes rolled up into the back of his head in pleasure at her words.

Slowly, carefully, he nudged the gun into the waistband of her skirt.

“Do you belong to me?”

She looked at him with tears of love in her eyes. “I do.”

The metal was cold as it nosed its way between her legs, and her body tensed against the wave of pleasure she felt. He was USING her. Depraving her. Claiming her in a way she never had been before.

But he was gentle as he worked the gun in and out of her body. He kept one hand in her hair, holding her up against the wall as her knees buckled and shook. He kissed her face, her nose, her eyes, murmuring as his lips passed, whisper light, over her skin. She moaned softly and he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

“You have to be quiet, baby.”

She sucked his tongue like a pacifier to keep from wailing. The pleasure was so keen it felt like a sharpened knife pricking her all over her body. She trembled against the brilliant heat rising inside of her, swelling and bright as she suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces. She was clinging to him, sobbing and grinding her hips and working her body against the gun and it felt so good, so so so GOOD, better than anything else had ever felt before, and he was laughing, quietly chuckling into her ear, and whispering about how she was SUCH a good little girl, such a mad little girl, and she thought that if this was madness then she wanted it.

She wanted it.

He held her as she came back to her senses, still pinned up against the wall in the solitary room. The gun was nestled between her thighs, and she swore she could feel it pulsating wetly.

“No one has ever loved my gun as much as you do,” he said, and she glowed with pride. “We’ll have to get you one of your own, won’t we? Can’t have you running off with mine to have FUN.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She flushed at the desire that rose within her again at his words.

The door suddenly swung open.

“Times up, Dr. Quinzel- oh shit.”

Ghost hunter show: “there is an unusually high amount of electromagnetic energy here”
*has 10 cameras, 6 spotlights, 3 recorders, a computer, and various other electronic devices all on at once*
“There should not be this much electromagnetic energy here”
Me: “you’re a fucking idiot”

aTVfest

I had a great time at the screening and panel! So lovely seeing our favorites in person. The sad news is that recording devices were not allowed. And they were monitoring the audience, but I did manage to sneak a few videos. I’ll try to upload them before I get on the plane home. Please forgive the shakiness and wonky angles, I was trying to keep my camera from view of the recording devices police as they patrolled.

(I have a lot of asks, if I can get to it before I lose internet, I will, otherwise I’ll answer later. I’ll try to put everything with a 6x11 spoiler under a cut.)

May 11th, 2009 - OV-104 Atlantis departs from Kennedy Space Center’s LC-39A on a final servicing mission to the Hubble Space Telescope (HST). STS-125 would be the only mission Atlantis would visit the HST - prior servicing missions were done by Discovery twice, with Columbia and Endeavour each once.

Upgrades to HST included the Cosmic Origins Spectograph, the Wide Field Camera 3 which can record different wavelengths of light, and a device called the Soft-Capture Mechanism, which will be used by a future craft to safely de-orbit Hubble at the end of its life span. HST is expected to continue to operate well into the 2030s.

STS-125 was unique in that it is one of a few missions that had two full Shuttle stacks on the launch pad at the same time. Any damage sustained from the launch that prevented Atlantis from returning home meant that she would be stuck in orbit with only three weeks of supplies. A rescue mission was specifically developed for STS-125, as the low inclination orbit of the HST meant that the International Space Station would effectively be out of reach of Atlantis and her crew.

In the event of Atlantis suffering damage, STS-400 would launch up to the crippled shuttle and extract the crew for a safe return home. OV-105 Endeavour was placed on stand-by at LC-39B until May 21st, after Atlantis was deemed safe to return home, and was released to begin processing for STS-127.

Atlantis and crew would return home May 24th, landing at Edwards Air Force Base - the weather in Florida deemed unsatisfactory for landing the orbiter. STS-125 had five successful EVAs, orbited the Earth 197 times, and featured the first Tweet from space by Astronaut Michael Massimino which read, “From orbit: Launch was awesome!! I am feeling great, working hard, & enjoying the magnificent views, the adventure of a lifetime has begun!

STS-125 was another shuttle mission to feature an IMAX camera, used to document the life of HST and the views of the universe it has brought to us. IMAX: Hubble 3D was released in 2010 and features the launch of STS-125. 

Another Perfect Catastrophe -4

AUTHOR: Mikimoo
PAIRING: JayDick
RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Non Consensual drug use, Non Consensual touching, Non Consensual kissing, humour, slight mayhem

SUMMARY: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Notes: An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3



Keep reading

A story from the SS point of view.

I was standing in front of the gate of the building where my new range of activities will take place –Death Camp Dublinsk. Before me is the front wall of a large, three storage building, with windows towards the street. There were a huge gate with a massive steel door in the middle of the wall.

I arrived by train to the town and took a tram to the nearest terminal - from there it was just a few minutes walk to the camp. The surrounding people inside the tram, saw my black SS-Uniform and moved away from me which allowed me space to sit down. They silently gave me hostile looks but were too afraid to dare to say anything.

Three weeks had gone since I got my orders of duty and it was a very hectic time. It was an un-written rule that new guards provides their own uniforms and I spent a lot of time with the tailor. He made my new uniforms according to army standards. Then I bought caps, shirts, undewear, socks, belts and other accessories at the special army shop. And so I changed my skinhead uniform with white laced steel toe boots to SS uniform with black knee high boots. My new uniforms were perfectly well done and they fitted me like a second skin. I got one black parade uniform, two grey-green for work and one camouflage uniform.

I arranged for a leaving party before I left for my new duty and I got some gifts. My company collegues gave me a nasty black snake whip made from hard hippopotamus leather and I had to promise them to use the cruel whip often. My uncle did his military service in the Death Camps 20 years ago. I enjoyed to hear him telling me how he treated prisoners, I will try his methods too. My father gave me a marvellous dagger, one side of the blade had my SS number and on the other side had the keynote “Meine Ehre Heißt Treue“ in rune letters. My father said, he were very proud of me.

I spent my last night with my girlfriend Helga. We promised to get married and become parents after I finished my duty.

I now had arrived at the reception at the Camp gate. The soldier on duty sent me to the SS-room (social-, club-, meeting-room). There was same other young SS men who like me should serve as new guards in the camp. We waited for the Camp Commandant. When he came in, I was surprised to find out the he was my old platoon leader from the compulsory military service –Obersturmführer Ingo Schauer. He was tall and blond and musculary built like a boxer. He also had high demand for himself and his subordinate soldiers. But he had won our hearts and minds soon, even if he was not very much older than us.

We all introduced ourselves to him. When it was my turn he told me: “Bolte, I wasn’t mistaken then when I saw your name on the list. I am glad to have a dependable man on my team. I think you will be a big re-inforcement in the camp. I have been in this camp for one year and two months and during this time we have been ordered a faster write-off procedure. This means that no one of the swine prisoners are allowed to stay alive for more than three months. I have introduced some standing orders here in the camp and you will all learn them as fast as possible. For example, each one of you must terminate the life out of two of the scumbags every day, but I don’t think this will be a problem for you!”, he said looking at me with a big smile on his face.

He then spoke to us about our duties. He told us that during the first week we will be on duty together with the experienced guards who has been here for a year and who will leave in a weeks time. There are some traditions in the camp, all prisoner liquidation during the coming week is reserved for guards who are ending their work in the camp next week.
The Commander on duty will teach us what is required for camp work and will strictly assess work to each one of us.
Then he introduced us to the day Commanant on duty; Oberscharfuhrer Ingo, who gave us an guided tour trough the KL building.

I was surprised by the fact that all work prisoners were totally naked. Ingo explained the orders of Camp Commandant Schauer. All clothes and belongings of new prisoners are immediatelly confiscated when they arrive to the KL. During their maximum living allowance of three months before their deaths they work completelly naked. The KL saves money for washing prisoner tatters and allow easier access for the guards whips. All the prisoners had a bar code tattoo on their backs bellow the shoulders, these were scanned and the data stored in a central database. This allowed manipulation and control of every individual prisoner every day until his death and the final scanning before his corpse is burned in the ovens. The ash is collected in a box and a label is printed with names and address to the terminated prisoners relatives. The box together with prisoner process costs is sent to his relatives. Outstanding payments of our prisoner services will have extreme consequences for the relatives.

They showed me one jail cell too. There was twelve beds attached to the wall and one toilet here. In these cell were minimum twenty four prisoners held. The prisoners must recline the beds to the wall every day at 4.00 pm and back at 12 am. When they didn’t work and was locked in the cell, they must stand all day – no sitting or leaning towards the walls and no speaking. There is a Control system of cameras and motion sensors that records every slight disobedience to these orders. These devices of prisoner control are installed in the whole KL. The data from the sensors are collected together with prisoner id from the bar code tattooed on their backs and stored in a database. Each offence could then be thoroughly punished. During his talking, Ingo had underlined his words working on the prisoners backs with his stock-whip.

The KL camp was located in a large square building with four wings surrounding a open space in the middle. The entrance gate were in the centre of the front wing where also the officers clubs, gym, swimming pool and accomodation for the guards where they could rest when they weren’t on duty working the prisoners. These rooms had large windows towards the city street. The two side wings contained prisoner cells and in the back wing were stores, torture chambers and krematorium. Between the wings were a large yard used as Appell Platz. The torture chambers were very well equipped with hooks in the walls and cealing, stretchers and racks, wash bowls, electrical chock equipment, nails, ropes, whips, pliers, fire for heating of branding irons, some chemicals, ect, - all what you need to work on a prisoner. The chambers were permanently occupied, moans and screams of terror and pain were constantly heard from this part of the KL.

In the crematorium there were three prisoners working every day overseen by one SS man. The crematorium ovens could be able to burn twice more corpses per day than presently utilised. Black smoke from the chimney above the crematorium were an ever visible threat for disobedient inmates.

The whole first week we worked and practised our duties with the experienced older guards, learned directives and was instructed by the day Commander. The week after the older guards left and we started our duty.

I had very much looked forward to my first day on duty. I commanded three prisoners in the crematorium.
My task was to burn the daily ration of bodies and prepare the boxes with ash to be sent off. Two of the prisoners put corpses on gurdles and pushed them into the ovens, the third prisoner collected the ash and put it in boxes and then sticked pre-printed gummed label with addresses on them. The boxes were sent by the camp administrators to the city hall and city workers sent them to relatives of the prisoner together with the bill for processing the prisoner, the punishment for non-payment were extreme, all relatives were then arrested and processed at the camp.

I had given the order that the corpses should be placed on the belly before the ovens so that I easily could scan the bar code on prisoners back before the body gets incinerated. I then upload the scanned id data to a database and lables are printed with addresses to the deceased prisoners relatives. The burning of dead bodies from terminated prisoners has been running continually and between feeding new bodies to the fire the two work prisoners have cleaned the crematorium. I have kept close attention to every move of my work prisoners. I singled out one of my three work prisoners and I have hazed and harrazed him all day. Either he haven´t prepared the body to scanning well,or he hasn’t cleaned the floor properly etc, etc. I have been beating him with my leather whip and kicked him with my heavy steel toed boots several times during the day. So slowly I have prepared him to his finale. Perhaps he could sence my plans for him because his body started to shake. He fell to his knees in front of my booted feet and tried to beg me of mercy, but I stopped that immediatelly with a hard blow to his face and a kick of my boot to his stomach.
My duty for the day have passed quickly when the last corpse was sent into the oven. I ordered my two favorite work prisoners to stand and face the wall. Then I ordered my chosen prisoner to lay on the floor and I bound his legs together, I then tied his arms to his body. I unfolded my whip and ordered the two standing prisoners to put their work mate to the stretcher and shove it into the fire in the oven. They looked at me with gaping mouths of unbelief towards me. I let them taste the lash of my whip and threaten them that if they didn’t do this I would put them in the oven too.
The two prisoners looked each other in the eyes with panic and terror shining in their faces. I gave them a couple of well aimed licks with my leather whip. I looked them in their eyes and told them that if they don’t do this, I will play with them all day tomorrow in the torture chamber when I am off duty and slowly destroy their bodies before I kill them. They saw the evil sadism glittering in my eyes and how much I would enjoy doing this to them so with shaking hands and knees the put the bounded prisoner on the stretcher and pushed him into the oven.

The screams insane pain from the oven sounded for about 2-3 minutes and was then abruptly cut. The two remaining prisoners cleaned the crematorium fast and I announced work task completed to Commandant Schauer, that had arrived in the compound to inspect and control. He asked:
“Where is your third work prisoner?“. I answered with pointing towards the oven.
The Commandant smiled and said: “I knew you were a prankster. You will enjoy your work with these swines here in the camp.“            

Altertale: Where "Gaster" Comes From

Very little is known for certain about Boss Skeleton monsters. Their names tended to be strange even for monster standards and based around how they spoke. Unarguably they were the most powerful monsters in the kingdom. They had very long life spans. How long exactly, no one really knew for certain but a skeleton had always ruled the monsters. It seemed as if one always would.

Well. At LEAST one. The current rulers of the monster kingdom were a pair of brothers from the Aster family. Papyrus, the youngest, took care of the day-to-day concerns of the population. Sans, the eldest, didn’t seem to do much in the public eye but in fact made certain that the kingdom ran smoothly. Despite their birth order, Sans decided against being called King when their parents stepped down from the throne, opting instead to let his brother have the title. They both ruled equally, despite the difference in age and title and the kingdom survived.

It came as much of a surprise to the brothers as it did to the rest of the kingdom when it was discovered that a new heir was going to arrive. While the two acted dignified about it in public, in private it was a whole other matter.

The room was very dark when Sans barged into it. He could vaguely spot his brother’s form underneath the comforter. Taking off the lens cap from the old video camera, he started recording as he shook Papyrus awake.

“bro.”

The taller skeleton grunted and rolled over. Undeterred, Sans grasped his brother’s humerus and shook him again.

“broooo.”

“Sans I am trying to sleep,” Papyrus sat up, staring directly at his older brother. The very faint light coming from the smaller skeleton’s eye sockets traced out the blocky shape of the recording device. “…and is that a camera?”

“yes but that’s not important, listen to this: why don’t robots have any brothers?” There was a moment of silence.

“Are we really doing this, Sans?”

“c'mon, guess.” For the first time in many years, Papyrus detected a slight whine in his brother’s tone. He sighed, giving in as usual. Nothing could get him to enjoy whatever punchline Sans had in store, however.

“…Why do robots not have any brothers.”

“because all they have are tran-SISTERS.” Even in the dark, the grin on the smaller skeleton’s face could easily be seen. Papyrus rolled his eye sockets.

“Practicing for our new sibling, hm? You MUST be excited.”

Sans winked at his brother. “hey you never know, they might find my jokes humerus.” Papyrus groaned, but smiled as he did so. “so just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you’re allowed tibia skull-king all the time.”

“Well it is QUITE late for THAT. Put a little more backbone into your jokes and maybe we will talk.” There was a long moment where the two of them didn’t say anything. This moment was completely ruined by Sans snorting and Papyrus chortling. The brothers laughed and laughed for several minutes. It was when they had calmed down that Sans finally remembered the camera that he had brought.

“Damn, it’s probably too dark to see anything.” He commented before shutting down the device.

The wait for their new sibling was altogether too long for either of their liking, but soon enough the new prince was welcomed into the skeleton brothers’ lives with open arms. Papyrus and Sans vowed to always care for their new brother and make certain that he would be happy. Their resolve to do so only increased when their parents fell down and turned to dust before the boy’s name could be discovered. Only very close friends of the royal family knew this, but Boss Skeleton Monsters were not named by their family. Instead, when they first learn to talk the young Boss’s initial speech pattern gives way to what their name will be.

As it turned out, Winding learned to talk fairly early. The only problem was that those who didn’t or couldn’t speak to the young prince on a regular basis found it very hard to understand him when he used his voice. A temporary solution was found by teaching the boy how to speak with hand signs, a method developed to help monsters who couldn’t speak communicate with others. In addition to teaching him how to sign, Sans took it upon himself to try to help his baby brother speak in “a clearer font” as he put it. Papyrus often joined in on the lessons, encouraging Winding all the while.

It was during one of these sessions that the boy wanted to try to speak without assistance. They met in the meager garden that resided within the castle. Flowers didn’t grow very easily underground, but the king and the older prince missed the surface and thought that having a garden would keep other monsters from missing it too badly. The middle brother had yet to join them due to a minor issue he had to take care of, but Papyrus had assured his little brother that he would return promptly.

The little skeleton was too impatient for that. He balled the ends of his oversized sweater into his hands and struggled to speak in the “font” that Sans taught him. “My n-name is W-w-win…"Seeing the distress on his brother’s face, the eldest brother tried to give him an out.

“hey buddy you don’t have to if you’re feel–” Sans was stopped by a scowl and a clear shut up gesture. He shrugged and let his baby brother continue. The little prince agonized over his own name for what felt like forever. The shapes that his mouth needed to take felt unnatural and too simple for his liking. He refused to give up, however.

Just when it seemed like yet another failed attempt, the boy managed to say what he wanted. “Windin G-gaster!” Winding smiled triumphantly while panting. It wasn’t perfect, but he had done it. He’d said his name! Sans blinked, his eye lights very small in their sockets. Seeing his brother’s face start to fall, he quickly responded.

“wow. that’s, that’s fantastic bro. great job.” He put a hand on top of Winding’s skull, his usual smile looking brighter than normal. The prince’s face mirrored his brother’s. “do you mind saying it again?” The little skeleton shoved his chest forward and spoke with more confidence.

“My name is W-windin Gaster.” There was a slight pause, followed by a snort. The little skeleton cocked his head in confusion. Sans covered his widening grin with a hand

“nothing, nothing…I just didn’t know you were so full of hot air, GAS-ter.” This was said with a wink. It didn’t take long for the boy to understand what his brother meant. Tiny magic bones materialized and threw themselves at the robe-clad skeleton. Sans laughed as they practically bounced off of him.

“Nooo!” That was one word the prince certainly could say without anyone misunderstanding him. Papyrus strolled into the garden at that moment. Sans waved him over.

“pap you’ve gotta hear this, it’s wonderful.”

“NO NO NO!” The little prince tried to cover up his oldest brother’s mouth to no avail. Soon enough the boy would be known to those he saw often as “Gaster.” He got used to the nickname eventually.

——————–

Okay this is mostly some of my headcanons about Altertale that I just had to make into something like a story. 

Hope you enjoy!

I managed to snag most of Q.U.E.E.N. on video.

According to the seventh Eephus commandment, “telecommunications devices, camera-graphic recorders, and videological absorbers used for the purpose of sharing the eephus with beautiful strangers, unlucky friends, and jealous enemies who are not with you on this physical plane are allowed but may spontaneously combust due to high levels of jam.”

That being said, my phone both overheated and ran out of battery while recording this video.

urban flowers

summary: “Dad has paintings of her beauty. I have static videos on my phone of her laughter. Between you and me, Nino? I know which one I prefer.” - One day when Gabriel Agreste isn’t home, Adrien shows Nino a glimpse of his past that even he hadn’t unearthed.
a/n: A prompt by @distressed-fryup . They requested either a cute moment with Adrien and Mama Agreste or Nino and Adrien’s wonderful bromance. So I said: why not both? That, and I was watching “Home Video” from Steven Universe. So… yeah. ^_^ Please enjoy!


“Okay. I have been in this estate around five times now, dude. Nothing should surprise me. How the hell did I not notice you practically had a projection booth in here?”

Heaving another box out of the way and wiping the sweat off of his brow, Adrien just looked over at Nino (who’s jaw was currently one hinge away from dropping to the floor) with a knowing quirked grin.

The room in the attic wasn’t large by any means; a closed-off section behind a few of the family safes, a red interior covered by walls of tapes and DVDs. They ranged from home movies to archaic footage of his mother and father’s school days, modeling entries from various generations. Tucked away in the corner was an old-school projector, right down to the gleaming rust on the wheel. Adrien was more focused on the television set in the center, however.

 He took a seat on the floor. “Wow. A real film buff, eh?”

Nino pointed to the headphones around his neck, returning the grin tenfold. “You have your old man’s voice ringing in your ears about prospects in modelling, but, my friend, I am much more content for my ears to listen to the sweet sound of original film soundtracks.”

“Nino, that’s my Dad you’re talking about. He’s not that bad.”

“So why not ring him up and tell him your wonderful friend Nino–you know the same friend who dared try to convince him to allow his son to have a birthday party–is here to snoop around at a closed-off part of the mansion with you?”

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Introducing the VICE Photo Issue 2014 

A disclaimer: Nothing in this year’s VICE photo issue is as it appears to be. Each page of the magazine is actually a piece of paper that been decorated with ink by our printer in Sussex, Wisconsin, in collaboration with our team here at VICE, so that it looks like something it is not. To further illustrate my point: The image below is not a blue sky dotted with perfect clouds, seen through the gauzy curtains of a dream window; it’s actually pixels on your computer screen changing color, or some shit.

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Photo by Roxana Azar

But you knew that already. I’m just trying to say that photographs are never reality—they’re always the subjective opinion of someone who is releasing the shutter of a camera at a certain moment. It’s more or less a 1/8th-second crop of the photographer’s reality, or whatever reality he or she wants you to think existed. Photographs are unreliable. Clearly, pictures lie to millions of people every day in more ways than we could list here. Even so, some images have the power to rally entire generations to a cause, move any one of us to tears in their presence, allow the dead to live forever, and more.

It’s from this slippery and uncertain vantage that VICE’s 2014 photo issue takes its perspective. Curated along an expanding of the term trompe l'oeil, this year’s edition is a showcase of smoke and mirrors, featuring photographic illusions and transformations of all kinds. The issue includes a wide range of visual tricks, deceptions, and transformations by some of the greatest artists working today. Contributions from venerated photographers whose images have changed the world—such as Weegee, Cindy Sherman, and Laurie Simmons—share pages with the visionaries of tomorrow. Here are just a few of the issue’s highlights:

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The magazine has a double cover by Michael Bühler-Rose—there’s an eyeball with a hole punched through it you can rip off, and the reverse has instructions for a ceremony to remove the evil eye.

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Hiroshi Sugimoto: Ohio Theater, Ohio, 1980, gelatin silver print, 47 x 58-¾" (119.4 x 149.2 cm), edition of five. Photograph courtesy the artist and Pace Gallery

This Hiroshi Sugimoto photograph accompanies the issue’s foreword, an essay by Bob Nickastitled “Trompe l'Oeil.

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(L) Laurie Simmons: How We See/Look 1/Daria, 2014, pigment print, 70 x 48 inches, 178 x 122 cm. ® Jimmy DeSana: Red Boy in the Woods, circa 1978, C-print, 50 x 34 inches, 127 x 86.5 cm. Photos courtesy of Laurie Simmons and Salon 94, New York

There’s a spread by Laurie Simmons and her dear friend and mentor, punk art photographerJimmy DeSana

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Jaimie Warren created a nativity scene out of characters from horror movies from the issue. Read Joseph Keckler’s text about Jaimie’s work, and watch a video of one of her recent performances.

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Cindy Sherman: Cover Girl (Vogue), 1975/2011, three gelatin silver prints, 10.5 x 8 inches, 26.7 x 20.3 cm (each image size), 19.125 x 16.625 inches, 48.6 x 42.2 cm (each frame size), edition of three. Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

There’s a three-page foldout by Cindy Sherman—an early work made when she was in art school.

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One of my favorite new photographers, Michael Marcelle, made a new portfolio of work for the issue, titled Third Skin

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Kevin Zucker contributed sunsets photographed on color Polaroid film, though he removed most of the color by shooting them through gray plastic.  

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My friend and collaborator Cynthia Talmadge and I contributed a couple of our new painted positive/negative still lifes.   

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There’s even a piece of photojournalism by Contact Press Images, which goes behind the scenes of a Syrian Ramadan soap opera.

While photographs are never reality, I will admit they depict some kind of absolute. The camera is, after all, a mechanical device: The lens records whatever appears before it with a cold yet democratically unflinching eye. And that fickle kind of truth is an extremely powerful force, if you can harness it. So I urge readers to greet the 2014 photo issue with skepticism. Look closely and never take its pages at face value. But find comfort in the uncertainty of not knowing what happened before of after the shutter fell—in that hazy, brief window, the very essence of human existence can be crystalized, forever. 

An exhibition of work from the VICE photo issue 2014 will open at Pioneer Works in Brooklyn on July 31st and remain on view through August 10th.

See more of the photo issue’s content here.

Download the iPad edition here.

anonymous asked:

Are you still open for prompts? Could you maybe do one for LewViThur, where Lewis and Vivi panic over Arthur's well being? Maybe something like Arthur getting trapped somewhere- A freezer or a burning room, maybe even somewhere filled with some kind of toxic gas, and don't get to him untill it's almost to late? To the point where he's not dead, but really out of it and not in good condition- Something that'll give Lew and Vi a good scare! But of course, Artie ends up ok!

((IT’S 3AM AGAIN AND THIS GOT REALLY LONG))

When he was a kid, Arthur had loved to go to magic shows.

He was always captivated by the flair and the showmanship; big red curtains, sequined outfits, magic words and the spontaneous appearance of rabbits almost never failed to brighten his mood. He’d even learned a few slight of hand and card tricks, himself, at the height of it all, and he’d been pretty good. 7 times out of 10, he always picked the right card.

But magic was suddenly a lot more serious when the chains were around you, and the keys to the holding tank were nowhere in sight.

Arthur decided then that he didn’t like magic shows anymore.

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When most of the fans in pit stood still holding their cameras, I didn’t use my recording device, just jumping and screaming and singing and waving my glowing baton violently, cause taylorswift was singing my favorite song Red on stage. 

When she finished singing Red, Amos threw his guitar pick to me but it accidentally hit against the fence and bounced back to the floor, so I shouted feverishly like a psycho to the security man, “GIVE THAT TO ME, CAUSE HE[AMOS] THREW THAT TO ME, HE SMILED AT ME!!!!!!” I bet he must have thought I am a p s y c h o t i c girl with weird Cantonese accent… I strongly felt the juxtaposition of the calm security man / fans holding their cameras attentively and the crazy me… 

I was too afraid to check out the videos posted online after the concert cause I felt embarrassed to see myself dancing. But after Shake It Off, I feel so proud cause I used every smidgen of energy and attention to dance to the beat and enjoy the concert instead of preventing my hands from shaking so as to record high quality videos.

              — RED Tour, May 30, 2014 Mercedes-Benz Arena, Shanghai, China

Dylann Roof Trial

Here is all the informations that the persons who want to attend Dylann Roof federal trial must know. 

  • Attendees in the trial courtroom may not converse or make gestures or sounds that are disruptive to the proceedings or that distract jurors or witnesses. 
  • Trial will be held in Courtroom 6 of the Charleston Federal Courthouse located at 85 Broad Street, Charleston, SC, with individual juror voir dire to commence on November 7, 2016, at 9:00a.m
  • During trial, there will generally be a short mid-morning break, a one-hour lunch break and a short mid-afternoon break.
  • The courthouse will open 1.5 hours prior to the start of scheduled proceedings each day. In order to enter the courthouse, all individuals must present valid government-issued photo identification, such as a driver’s license or passport. 
  • No cameras or video or audio recording devices of any kind, including cell phones or multi-media enabled smart phones, cameras, laptop computers, tablets, video cameras, or any devices with similar functionality are permitted in the courthouse.
  • No person shall take any photograph, make any recording, or make any broadcast by any means.
  • No one observing the trial proceedings in the trial courtroom or any overflow location may wear or carry any clothing, buttons, or other items that carry any message or symbol addressing the issues related to this case that may be or become visible to the jury. 
  • No food or beverage is permitted in the courtroom.
  • There are approximately eighty (80) seats available for the general public in Courtroom 6. Approximately half of the seats will be allocated for victims or victims’ families. Additional seats will be allocated for Defendant’s family, and for media and sketch artists.
  • The trial courtroom will open one hour prior to the commencement of proceedings for the day.
  • Overflow seating will be available for the general public in Courtroom 4. A live audio and video feed from the trial will be provided. A courtcontrolled closed-circuit video camera will be fixed on the witnesses, counsel, and the Court, and will not focus on the jury.

Any violation of any portion of this Order by any person may result in exclusion from the trial courtroom or the courthouse.

anonymous asked:

Westallen Prompt humor A rival of Iris' gets a photo of her kissing Barry (while in his Flash suit). Now everyone thinks Iris is cheating on Barry with the Flash. I'd love to read everyone's reactions to that happening especially those who don't know Barry is the Flash.

Haaay, nonnie. Thank you for suggesting such a fun prompt. This is gonna be slightly AU since so many ppl know Barry’s identity, but I hope you enjoy!


It was just one kiss. Stolen atop Jitters’ rooftop after dark, with the lights of Central City painting warm tones on two bodies that were pressed against one another. Barry’s hand traced the soft curve of her jaw; Iris’ teeth scraped his bottom lip with a wanting hunger, a need. Soft whispers of I missed you permeated the air.

This moment was for them, meant to be tucked away from the rest of the world.

But Leo Jackson, beat reporter for CCPN’s Entertainment section, was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Leo, what the hell is this?” Iris West approached the squat reporter while grabbing coffee at her office’s espresso cart; her other hand held a slim tablet showing CCPN’s Entertainment News section. “The Flash: Speeding His Way Into Iris West’s Pants?!”

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