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Snow bunny kneeling helplessly, hands pinned above her head while a massive BBC forces its way down her tight throat. #PetiteWhiteGirl #BBC #ForcedDeepthroat #BBCFaceFuck #TinyMouthBBC #InterracialThroat #GaggingPetite #BBCOwned

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Porntopia

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🇹🇷 🇵🇸 Turkish women throw down their headscarves to shame the men During Taraweeh at the Fatih Mosque, a group of women threw their headscarves into the men’s prayer area in protest against the ongoing closure of Al-Aqsa Mosque by Israeli occupation forces, now entering its 18th day. The women said their action was inspired by a story often told about the time of Salahudin, in which a woman is said to have thrown her scarf before him, declaring she could not hold her head high while Jerusalem remained under Crusader control.

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SHE SAW PATIENTS DYING IN SOILED SHEETS AND REPORTED IT. HER COLLEAGUES THREATENED HER. THE RCN TOLD HER TO SHUT UP. Helene Donnelly (Helene E Donnelly) was an A&E nurse at Stafford Hospital. What she witnessed was not a bad day at work. Patients denied food. Patients denied pain relief. Patients lying in their own urine and excrement, left there. She raised the alarm. Repeatedly. Her reward was physical threats from colleagues. She was so scared she couldn't walk to her car alone after a shift. And when she turned to the Royal College of Nursing for support, their rep told her to keep her head down. Keep. Her. Head. Down. While patients were dying around her. She didn't. She kept raising concerns from 2007 to 2013. She gave evidence to the Francis Public Inquiry. That inquiry exposed what may be one of the worst care scandals in NHS history, with estimates of avoidable deaths at Mid Staffordshire NHS Foundation Trust ranging from 400 to 1,200. No nurses were struck off. No managers prosecuted. The NHS chief executive at the time, Sir David Nicholson, who oversaw the period of the worst failings, resigned in 2013 with his pension intact. Helene got an OBE. She's now head of safety culture at Nuffield Health (Nuffield Health) and advises the government on whistleblower protection. She helped produce a national guide on preventing whistleblower victimisation. The guide that might have saved lives if it had existed at Stafford Hospital when she needed it. The institution that threatened her for speaking up gave her an award and asked her to consult on how not to threaten people for speaking up.. Sources: Helene E Donnelly Nuffield Health BBC News (UK) Channel 4 News Nursing Times Protect

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47,281 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

Remember Nika Shakarami. She was just 17 years old a brave, vibrant girl with dreams and a fierce sense of justice. In September 2022, during the "Woman, Life, Freedom" protests sparked by Mahsa Amini's death in custody, Nika joined demonstrators in Tehran. Videos captured her courage: standing tall, burning her hijab in defiance while chanting against oppression. That night, she vanished after telling friends she was being chased by security forces. Nine days later, her body was found. Her family was only allowed a brief glimpse-enough to see severe head injuries. A leaked confidential document, investigated by BBC Eye, details a horrific account: Nika was allegedly detained, sexually assaulted, and beaten to death by state security agents. Iranian authorities have repeatedly denied involvement, claiming she fell from a building or committed suicide, and even forced family members into televised confessions. But evidence from forensic reports, witness accounts, and the leaked IRGC file points to brutal state violence. Nika became a symbol of resistance. Her name was chanted in streets, schools, and around the world. Girls removed their hijabs in solidarity. Yet the regime tried to silence her story stealing her body for a secret burial and suppressing the truth. We must never forget Nika, Mahsa, and the hundreds killed for demanding freedom. Their courage inspires the ongoing fight for women's rights and human dignity in Iran. Woman. Life. Freedom.
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Remember Nika Shakarami. She was just 17 years old a brave, vibrant girl with dreams and a fierce sense of justice. In September 2022, during the "Woman, Life, Freedom" protests sparked by Mahsa Amini's death in custody, Nika joined demonstrators in Tehran. Videos captured her courage: standing tall, burning her hijab in defiance while chanting against oppression. That night, she vanished after telling friends she was being chased by security forces. Nine days later, her body was found. Her family was only allowed a brief glimpse-enough to see severe head injuries. A leaked confidential document, investigated by BBC Eye, details a horrific account: Nika was allegedly detained, sexually assaulted, and beaten to death by state security agents. Iranian authorities have repeatedly denied involvement, claiming she fell from a building or committed suicide, and even forced family members into televised confessions. But evidence from forensic reports, witness accounts, and the leaked IRGC file points to brutal state violence. Nika became a symbol of resistance. Her name was chanted in streets, schools, and around the world. Girls removed their hijabs in solidarity. Yet the regime tried to silence her story stealing her body for a secret burial and suppressing the truth. We must never forget Nika, Mahsa, and the hundreds killed for demanding freedom. Their courage inspires the ongoing fight for women's rights and human dignity in Iran. Woman. Life. Freedom.

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Smoking girl lover

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The exact moment a standard traffic stop spirals into total chaos... A 68-year-old man called 911 following a physical domestic argument with his wife at their home. ​He reported that his wife had slapped him and thrown objects at him, leaving visible marks. ​When deputies arrived at the residence, they found signs of a struggle inside, including broken glass, disturbed items, and fresh red marks on the husband's back and shoulder. ​The husband informed the deputies that his wife had fled the scene driving a gray 2004 Honda Accord and was likely traveling down Florida Park Drive. ​A deputy spotted the vehicle and pulled it over. ​The wife immediately told the deputy that she was attempting to drive herself to the emergency room because her husband had bumped her head on the floor, causing a large knot on the back of her head. ​The deputy instructed her to place the car in park and wait while they investigated. He explained that she was currently being detained and could not drive away, but assured her that paramedics were on the way to check her injuries. ​While waiting for medical personnel, the interaction between the woman and the deputies became increasingly hostile and argumentative. ​The woman was highly uncooperative, stating, "I don't trust any of you people," and repeatedly insulted the officers, calling them nasty names. ​She accused the officers of taking her husband's side and treating him like a saint, aggressively stating, "It's not f*ing true." ​When asked if she had any weapons in the vehicle or on her person, she defused that specific question with a touch of sarcasm, asking, "Nail clipper count?" Deputies instructed the woman to step out of the vehicle so they could place her under arrest for domestic battery based on the injuries found on her husband. ​She immediately refused to cooperate, pulling away and resisting as deputies tried to guide her out of the car. She began screaming, "No, don't touch me!" and "Let go of me!" as they attempted to place her in handcuffs. ​It required multiple deputies to forcefully remove her from the driver's seat, pull her hands behind her back, and secure the handcuffs while she continued to yell and struggle against them. ​Once handcuffed, she refused to walk willingly to the patrol car, forcing deputies to physically escort her. She continued to scream insults and pull away before being placed into the back of the cruiser. ​The wife was transported to the local jail and charged with Domestic Battery and Resisting Arrest Without Violence.
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The exact moment a standard traffic stop spirals into total chaos... A 68-year-old man called 911 following a physical domestic argument with his wife at their home. ​He reported that his wife had slapped him and thrown objects at him, leaving visible marks. ​When deputies arrived at the residence, they found signs of a struggle inside, including broken glass, disturbed items, and fresh red marks on the husband's back and shoulder. ​The husband informed the deputies that his wife had fled the scene driving a gray 2004 Honda Accord and was likely traveling down Florida Park Drive. ​A deputy spotted the vehicle and pulled it over. ​The wife immediately told the deputy that she was attempting to drive herself to the emergency room because her husband had bumped her head on the floor, causing a large knot on the back of her head. ​The deputy instructed her to place the car in park and wait while they investigated. He explained that she was currently being detained and could not drive away, but assured her that paramedics were on the way to check her injuries. ​While waiting for medical personnel, the interaction between the woman and the deputies became increasingly hostile and argumentative. ​The woman was highly uncooperative, stating, "I don't trust any of you people," and repeatedly insulted the officers, calling them nasty names. ​She accused the officers of taking her husband's side and treating him like a saint, aggressively stating, "It's not f*ing true." ​When asked if she had any weapons in the vehicle or on her person, she defused that specific question with a touch of sarcasm, asking, "Nail clipper count?" Deputies instructed the woman to step out of the vehicle so they could place her under arrest for domestic battery based on the injuries found on her husband. ​She immediately refused to cooperate, pulling away and resisting as deputies tried to guide her out of the car. She began screaming, "No, don't touch me!" and "Let go of me!" as they attempted to place her in handcuffs. ​It required multiple deputies to forcefully remove her from the driver's seat, pull her hands behind her back, and secure the handcuffs while she continued to yell and struggle against them. ​Once handcuffed, she refused to walk willingly to the patrol car, forcing deputies to physically escort her. She continued to scream insults and pull away before being placed into the back of the cruiser. ​The wife was transported to the local jail and charged with Domestic Battery and Resisting Arrest Without Violence.

✨️Serenitee♡Sam✨️

76,941 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

Observations (Alleged): They tried to break Nicki Minaj down to her lowest point—but God is good. The plan was to frame her as hømophobic and transphøbic, despite clear evidence that she is not. The goal was simple: divide her fanbase, turn the general public against her, and leave her vulnerable. They believed that narrative would stick. They miscalculated. Too much darkness forces people to search for light. They almost succeeded in pushing the “transphøbic” label—supported by some members of the community and close friends Nicki Minaj has fought for in the past, who unfortunately bought into the agenda. But the mistake was not knowing when to stop. They pushed too far. Her standing right beside Trump was also meant to divide her fanbase and turn the general public against her, since Trump is already being painted as “the bad guy.” But her fanbase is smart. Instead of falling for it, they amplified the photos, turned the narrative around, and strengthened their loyalty to Nicki. They tried to push a frenzy, forcing people to talk and creating headlines—but her fanbase beat them at their own game. With that, the media and agenda setters ran out of storylines. This Super Bowl situation appears to be a long‑calculated move, planned far in advance. The public was meant to believe Nicki Minaj stood against the LGBTQ+ community, while simultaneously positioning a certain female artist—openly homophøbic and transphøbic—to perform with Bad Bunny, draped in a rainbow flag and swinging it proudly. The contrast was intentional. That said, this “certain female artist” is still under consideration. Plans are still being drawn. Nothing is final. And God is still very much alive. Everything stated above is alleged and based solely on observations.👀✍🏽
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Observations (Alleged): They tried to break Nicki Minaj down to her lowest point—but God is good. The plan was to frame her as hømophobic and transphøbic, despite clear evidence that she is not. The goal was simple: divide her fanbase, turn the general public against her, and leave her vulnerable. They believed that narrative would stick. They miscalculated. Too much darkness forces people to search for light. They almost succeeded in pushing the “transphøbic” label—supported by some members of the community and close friends Nicki Minaj has fought for in the past, who unfortunately bought into the agenda. But the mistake was not knowing when to stop. They pushed too far. Her standing right beside Trump was also meant to divide her fanbase and turn the general public against her, since Trump is already being painted as “the bad guy.” But her fanbase is smart. Instead of falling for it, they amplified the photos, turned the narrative around, and strengthened their loyalty to Nicki. They tried to push a frenzy, forcing people to talk and creating headlines—but her fanbase beat them at their own game. With that, the media and agenda setters ran out of storylines. This Super Bowl situation appears to be a long‑calculated move, planned far in advance. The public was meant to believe Nicki Minaj stood against the LGBTQ+ community, while simultaneously positioning a certain female artist—openly homophøbic and transphøbic—to perform with Bad Bunny, draped in a rainbow flag and swinging it proudly. The contrast was intentional. That said, this “certain female artist” is still under consideration. Plans are still being drawn. Nothing is final. And God is still very much alive. Everything stated above is alleged and based solely on observations.👀✍🏽

BlackMedia__

16,540 Aufrufe • vor 5 Monaten

Seattle didn’t just elect a mayor — it elected the next blueprint for democratic socialism, giving Katie Wilson 61% of the vote in a city already collapsing under its own policies. She’s Mamdani 2.0, West Coast edition. 👉Her husband doesn’t work, her parents pay $2200 a month for her healthcare and paid her Oxford student loan for dropping out six weeks before graduating. Way to pick a winner Seattle! Her platform says the quiet part out loud: • Massive public-housing expansion paid for by higher taxes on homeowners and businesses • A city-level capital gains tax to replace federal funds cut under Trump • Permanent renter protections that make it nearly impossible to evict violent or destructive tenants • “Non-police” response teams while violent crime is already 20–30% above pre-COVID levels • “Trump-proofing” the city with taxpayer-funded legal shields, immigrant services, and climate-activist spending • Transit expansion bureaucracy in a system that can’t keep riders safe right now This is the exact same playbook we just saw with Mamdani in New York: Punish landlords, reward activist nonprofits, tax the working class, grow bureaucracy, shrink policing, and insist that “capitalism” is the problem as the city decays. Seattle already spends over $1.2 billion a year on homelessness — and tents haven’t gone down one bit. This is how cities die: Promise utopia → attack police → raise taxes → explode bureaucracy → drive out the middle class → blame everyone else. Seattle didn’t elect a reformer. It elected a test pilot for the next wave of democratic socialism — and the rest of the country should pay attention.
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Seattle didn’t just elect a mayor — it elected the next blueprint for democratic socialism, giving Katie Wilson 61% of the vote in a city already collapsing under its own policies. She’s Mamdani 2.0, West Coast edition. 👉Her husband doesn’t work, her parents pay $2200 a month for her healthcare and paid her Oxford student loan for dropping out six weeks before graduating. Way to pick a winner Seattle! Her platform says the quiet part out loud: • Massive public-housing expansion paid for by higher taxes on homeowners and businesses • A city-level capital gains tax to replace federal funds cut under Trump • Permanent renter protections that make it nearly impossible to evict violent or destructive tenants • “Non-police” response teams while violent crime is already 20–30% above pre-COVID levels • “Trump-proofing” the city with taxpayer-funded legal shields, immigrant services, and climate-activist spending • Transit expansion bureaucracy in a system that can’t keep riders safe right now This is the exact same playbook we just saw with Mamdani in New York: Punish landlords, reward activist nonprofits, tax the working class, grow bureaucracy, shrink policing, and insist that “capitalism” is the problem as the city decays. Seattle already spends over $1.2 billion a year on homelessness — and tents haven’t gone down one bit. This is how cities die: Promise utopia → attack police → raise taxes → explode bureaucracy → drive out the middle class → blame everyone else. Seattle didn’t elect a reformer. It elected a test pilot for the next wave of democratic socialism — and the rest of the country should pay attention.

Jake

84,567 Aufrufe • vor 8 Monaten

This 1977 interview is from a documentary about Rene Caisse, a Canadian nurse who developed an herbal formula in the 1920s while caring for people with the c-word. She became known for tea called Essiac (her last name spelled backwards) that she used to treat 300 to 600 cancer patients a week. Rene’s clinic was so busy that some patients waited in ambulances to be treated by her. One woman with cancer of the bowel was told by doctors in January that she’d “be gone when the snow melted.” But after being 3 years of Essiac treatment, her cancer was gone and never returned. Essiac is a blend of herbs passed to Rene from traditional Indigenous knowledge and refined through decades of hands-on use and observation. The original formula is a specific combination of herbs traditionally prepared and taken together that includes: Burdock root — long used to support the body’s natural cleansing pathways Sheep sorrel — traditionally used to support cellular health Slippery elm bark — known for its soothing, nutritive properties Turkish rhubarb root — historically used to support elimination Today, a century after her work started, Essiac isn’t a trend. It’s part of a long lineage of traditional herbal knowledge passed down that once existed alongside modern medicine. Some herbal formulas don’t disappear because they stop working. They disappear because they don’t fit the modern story.
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This 1977 interview is from a documentary about Rene Caisse, a Canadian nurse who developed an herbal formula in the 1920s while caring for people with the c-word. She became known for tea called Essiac (her last name spelled backwards) that she used to treat 300 to 600 cancer patients a week. Rene’s clinic was so busy that some patients waited in ambulances to be treated by her. One woman with cancer of the bowel was told by doctors in January that she’d “be gone when the snow melted.” But after being 3 years of Essiac treatment, her cancer was gone and never returned. Essiac is a blend of herbs passed to Rene from traditional Indigenous knowledge and refined through decades of hands-on use and observation. The original formula is a specific combination of herbs traditionally prepared and taken together that includes: Burdock root — long used to support the body’s natural cleansing pathways Sheep sorrel — traditionally used to support cellular health Slippery elm bark — known for its soothing, nutritive properties Turkish rhubarb root — historically used to support elimination Today, a century after her work started, Essiac isn’t a trend. It’s part of a long lineage of traditional herbal knowledge passed down that once existed alongside modern medicine. Some herbal formulas don’t disappear because they stop working. They disappear because they don’t fit the modern story.

🧬Maxpein🧬

176,884 Aufrufe • vor 8 Tagen

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0:27

She thought she could walk away from the throne. But every time she rejected the crown... it found its way back. This 30-second fantasy story was created entirely with Seedance 2.0 on Thank You AI From the magical environments to the cinematic camera work, character consistency, and seamless visual effects, every scene brought this story to life exactly as I imagined. Would you accept the crown... or keep running? 👑 PROMPT: Scene 1 (0–5s) – Rejecting the Crown Early morning on the highest castle balcony overlooking a vast medieval kingdom. Golden sunrise bathes the kingdom in warm light. The princess stands alone, holding an ornate golden crown in both hands. Tears fill her eyes as she slowly removes it from her head. She looks down at the peaceful kingdom before whispering, "I never wanted this." With quiet determination, she throws the crown off the balcony. The camera follows the crown spinning through the air in dramatic slow motion before cutting away just before it reaches the ground. Scene 2 (5–10s) – Freedom at Last The princess has changed into a simple brown traveler’s cloak over her dress and quietly walks through a lively village marketplace, smiling naturally for the first time. She helps a young child pick up scattered apples and blends in with ordinary people. Suddenly, villagers begin looking upward in confusion. A warm golden glow appears behind her. She slowly turns around to discover the crown floating silently toward her through the air. Before she can react, it gently settles back onto her head. Her smile instantly disappears. Scene 3 (10–15s) – Trying to Escape Again Determined to be free, she runs deep into an enchanted forest filled with towering ancient trees and glowing flowers. She removes the crown once more and forcefully throws it into a sparkling magical river. The crown sinks beneath the crystal-clear water. She exhales in relief and begins walking away. Seconds later, the river erupts with brilliant golden light. The crown rises gracefully from the water, hovering through the forest before once again placing itself perfectly on her head. The surrounding animals quietly bow as she stands frozen in disbelief. Scene 4 (15–20s) – The Ancient Truth Inside an abandoned royal temple hidden beneath the forest, countless ancient portraits of former queens line the walls. Dust floats through beams of sunlight. As the princess walks past, every portrait magically comes to life. Each queen is shown removing and throwing away the exact same crown before eventually wearing it again. The final portrait remains blank until golden magic slowly paints the princess's own face onto the canvas. She stares in shock as the realization overwhelms her. Scene 5 (20–25s) – The Crown Speaks The temple suddenly fills with brilliant golden light. The crown gently lifts itself off her head and floats before her at eye level. Ancient glowing runes circle around it while the room trembles softly with magic. A calm, powerful female voice echoes throughout the temple: "I never chose the throne... I chose you." The princess's expression changes from fear to quiet understanding as tears roll down her cheeks. Scene 6 (25–30s) – Accepting Her Destiny The princess slowly places the crown back onto her own head willingly for the first time. A magnificent wave of golden energy bursts across the kingdom. Flowers bloom instantly across the fields, dark clouds disappear, castle banners rise proudly in the wind, and the entire kingdom shines with renewed life. Her simple traveler's cloak transforms into an elegant royal gown adorned with glowing gold embroidery. The final cinematic shot pulls back high above the castle as she stands confidently on the balcony, looking over the kingdom she finally accepts as her own. The screen fades to black with the words: "Destiny cannot be escaped... only accepted."

Soulful Ai

36,721 Aufrufe • vor 8 Tagen

This woman wades chest-deep into a murky river, sunlight cutting across the surface while houses and trees sit calm along the bank behind her. Then it happens—she reaches down into the dark, into a hidden underwater hole, and pulls up a massive catfish bigger than her torso. Gloved hands locked in, she hoists it high as water pours off its body, the tail snapping with real force. She’s smiling—but this isn’t luck. This is noodling. The wild part? Noodling means you’re using your own arm as bait. Catfish hide in submerged holes, and when they feel threatened, they clamp down with crushing force—some over 50 pounds. People have had fingers broken, skin shredded by their sandpaper-like teeth, even been pulled underwater by sheer weight and current. And yet… that’s the draw. No rod. No reel. Just instinct, timing, and nerve. In some states, it’s even regulated because of how dangerous—and addictive—it is. She hugs the fish like a trophy, adrenaline still written all over her face. It’s not just a catch—it’s a full-on fight with something wild that didn’t want to be caught. So here’s the real question— Is that kind of thrill worth sticking your arm into a dark hole, not knowing what’s waiting to bite back… or is this one line you don’t cross?
0:57

This woman wades chest-deep into a murky river, sunlight cutting across the surface while houses and trees sit calm along the bank behind her. Then it happens—she reaches down into the dark, into a hidden underwater hole, and pulls up a massive catfish bigger than her torso. Gloved hands locked in, she hoists it high as water pours off its body, the tail snapping with real force. She’s smiling—but this isn’t luck. This is noodling. The wild part? Noodling means you’re using your own arm as bait. Catfish hide in submerged holes, and when they feel threatened, they clamp down with crushing force—some over 50 pounds. People have had fingers broken, skin shredded by their sandpaper-like teeth, even been pulled underwater by sheer weight and current. And yet… that’s the draw. No rod. No reel. Just instinct, timing, and nerve. In some states, it’s even regulated because of how dangerous—and addictive—it is. She hugs the fish like a trophy, adrenaline still written all over her face. It’s not just a catch—it’s a full-on fight with something wild that didn’t want to be caught. So here’s the real question— Is that kind of thrill worth sticking your arm into a dark hole, not knowing what’s waiting to bite back… or is this one line you don’t cross?

Ryan Cey

30,507 Aufrufe • vor 3 Monaten

HE WROTE "0800-F***-YOU" TO AN NHS WHISTLEBLOWER. THE TRUST GAVE HIM AN AWARD. A few weeks ago I posted Sharmila Chowdhury's sharmila chowdhury story. That posts reached nearly 800,000 views. Thank you. That number tells me people understand exactly how serious this is. So let me give you one more detail from this case. Because it deserves its own post. Quick recap for anyone new here. Sharmila gave 30 years of spotless service to the @NHS. She caught two consultant radiologists at Ealing Hospital billing the NHS while working privately down the road. She reported it. They sacked her on fabricated allegations and blacklisted her across the NHS. She won at tribunal. They ignored it. She developed cancer. They carried on. Now here's the detail. The man who made those fabricated allegations against her was Mike McWha, the PACS/RIS manager at Ealing Hospital NHS Trust. The same Mike McWha who had already failed to upload nuclear medicine reports for approximately 100 patients over six months. Patients with potentially life-threatening conditions. Sharmila had formally raised that against him in writing before he turned on her. He also sent an email signed off "0800-F***-YOU-B****." That same year, Ealing Hospital NHS Trust put Mike McWha in their Annual Report and gave him the "Top Mentor" award. Not a disciplinary hearing. Not a formal investigation. A published award. In the Annual Report. Sharmila was escorted out of the building in front of her staff. Her colleagues were warned they would face the same treatment if they contacted her. Her name was removed from her office door within two weeks. Her post was advertised while she was still suspended. Twelve staff members submitted written statements in her support. The Trust ignored all of them. She won. He got a plaque. Nearly 800,000 people looked at this case and said this matters. It does. Share this one too please. Full case: sharmilachowdhury com Sources: Health Select Committee written evidence | The Guardian | BBC News (UK) | Channel 4 | Daily Mail | The Independent | The Times and Sunday Times | The Mirror
3:05

HE WROTE "0800-F***-YOU" TO AN NHS WHISTLEBLOWER. THE TRUST GAVE HIM AN AWARD. A few weeks ago I posted Sharmila Chowdhury's sharmila chowdhury story. That posts reached nearly 800,000 views. Thank you. That number tells me people understand exactly how serious this is. So let me give you one more detail from this case. Because it deserves its own post. Quick recap for anyone new here. Sharmila gave 30 years of spotless service to the @NHS. She caught two consultant radiologists at Ealing Hospital billing the NHS while working privately down the road. She reported it. They sacked her on fabricated allegations and blacklisted her across the NHS. She won at tribunal. They ignored it. She developed cancer. They carried on. Now here's the detail. The man who made those fabricated allegations against her was Mike McWha, the PACS/RIS manager at Ealing Hospital NHS Trust. The same Mike McWha who had already failed to upload nuclear medicine reports for approximately 100 patients over six months. Patients with potentially life-threatening conditions. Sharmila had formally raised that against him in writing before he turned on her. He also sent an email signed off "0800-F***-YOU-B****." That same year, Ealing Hospital NHS Trust put Mike McWha in their Annual Report and gave him the "Top Mentor" award. Not a disciplinary hearing. Not a formal investigation. A published award. In the Annual Report. Sharmila was escorted out of the building in front of her staff. Her colleagues were warned they would face the same treatment if they contacted her. Her name was removed from her office door within two weeks. Her post was advertised while she was still suspended. Twelve staff members submitted written statements in her support. The Trust ignored all of them. She won. He got a plaque. Nearly 800,000 people looked at this case and said this matters. It does. Share this one too please. Full case: sharmilachowdhury com Sources: Health Select Committee written evidence | The Guardian | BBC News (UK) | Channel 4 | Daily Mail | The Independent | The Times and Sunday Times | The Mirror

Artur Nadolny

23,248 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat

‼️EXPOSED: The Brutal TRUTH Behind Why The Daily Wire WENT 'Belly Up'—Ben Shapiro Following the PATH of Judas? 👀 Candace Owens just dropped a brutal breakdown of the Daily Wire’s financial and cultural "bloodbath." While the company spins "restructuring," the numbers tell a different story: An 85% collapse in monthly views (170M down to 22M) and a massive workforce reduction of over 60% in the past year. The "Judas" Spirit: Candace reveals that while the company was burning through cash on "conservative Disney" bets like Bent Key (which has seen its entire team cut), Ben Shapiro was reportedly focused on a "psychopathic" obsession with her. From "stalking" her social media likes to using legal lawfare through his brother-in-law's law firm, Candace claims Ben turned a business disagreement into a spiritual war. "He bet the company on destroying me... and he lost." The Enron Moment: As personalities like Tucker Carlson and Megyn Kelly thrive independently, the Daily Wire is discovering the hard way that when the names walk, the audience follows. They kept the overhead, but they lost the people. Candace Owens isn’t just taking a victory lap; she’s detailing what many are calling the "Enron of Conservative Media"—a $1 billion valuation built on personalities who realized they didn’t actually need the platform. Is this the final chapter of the Daily Wire? FOLLOW Candace Owens, RET and watch her FULL episode linked below. 👇
12:23

‼️EXPOSED: The Brutal TRUTH Behind Why The Daily Wire WENT 'Belly Up'—Ben Shapiro Following the PATH of Judas? 👀 Candace Owens just dropped a brutal breakdown of the Daily Wire’s financial and cultural "bloodbath." While the company spins "restructuring," the numbers tell a different story: An 85% collapse in monthly views (170M down to 22M) and a massive workforce reduction of over 60% in the past year. The "Judas" Spirit: Candace reveals that while the company was burning through cash on "conservative Disney" bets like Bent Key (which has seen its entire team cut), Ben Shapiro was reportedly focused on a "psychopathic" obsession with her. From "stalking" her social media likes to using legal lawfare through his brother-in-law's law firm, Candace claims Ben turned a business disagreement into a spiritual war. "He bet the company on destroying me... and he lost." The Enron Moment: As personalities like Tucker Carlson and Megyn Kelly thrive independently, the Daily Wire is discovering the hard way that when the names walk, the audience follows. They kept the overhead, but they lost the people. Candace Owens isn’t just taking a victory lap; she’s detailing what many are calling the "Enron of Conservative Media"—a $1 billion valuation built on personalities who realized they didn’t actually need the platform. Is this the final chapter of the Daily Wire? FOLLOW Candace Owens, RET and watch her FULL episode linked below. 👇

Project Constitution

16,587 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

As a proud Indian, firstly and above every other identity, I join thousands of fellow country sisters & brothers, to make just one single point - India First. Let us not be divided or distracted by this dastardly cross-border sponsored and motivated terror attack. As Indians, we are united in the face of this challenge. When we look at history, such challenges were thrown at us prior too, one of our greatest Prime Ministers Smt Indira Gandhi has the shown the way to fighting terror, laying down her life for the sake of the country. In 1967, she put China in place when they tried a misadventure into the Indian border. In 1971, she led the country and marshalled its forces against Pakistan in response to unprovoked aggression against us and stood for humanitarian needs of Bangladesh people. I urge Prime Minister Narendra Modi Ji on behalf of four crore people of #Telangana who speak in one voice that entire India is united behind you. Let there be no compromise on India's sovereignty and dignity. Show Pakistan, and the world, that India won't ever bow down to terrorism. #JaiHind #JammuKashmir #Pahalgam
0:59

As a proud Indian, firstly and above every other identity, I join thousands of fellow country sisters & brothers, to make just one single point - India First. Let us not be divided or distracted by this dastardly cross-border sponsored and motivated terror attack. As Indians, we are united in the face of this challenge. When we look at history, such challenges were thrown at us prior too, one of our greatest Prime Ministers Smt Indira Gandhi has the shown the way to fighting terror, laying down her life for the sake of the country. In 1967, she put China in place when they tried a misadventure into the Indian border. In 1971, she led the country and marshalled its forces against Pakistan in response to unprovoked aggression against us and stood for humanitarian needs of Bangladesh people. I urge Prime Minister Narendra Modi Ji on behalf of four crore people of #Telangana who speak in one voice that entire India is united behind you. Let there be no compromise on India's sovereignty and dignity. Show Pakistan, and the world, that India won't ever bow down to terrorism. #JaiHind #JammuKashmir #Pahalgam

Revanth Reddy

34,430 Aufrufe • vor 1 Jahr

This is Mansoureh Heydari and her husband Behrouz Mansouri, an ordinary Iranian nurse and technical instructor from Bushehr who lived quiet lives raising their two small children aged seven and ten. After finishing their shifts on the evening of January 8, 2026, they left their kids with relatives and joined protests against the Islamic regime. They marched with thousands of other fed-up citizens through their city in a peaceful protest, until the regime responded the only way it knew how. Without warning or mercy, its security forces opened fire from inside a mosque, shooting Behrouz in the head. As Mansoureh desperately tried to drag him to safety, she too was gunned down. Their children were orphaned and left alone in a country ruled by the enemies of humanity. Mansoureh and Behrouz are just two of the 40,000+ murdered by these monsters in January 2026. We won't forget their sacrifices or their names. They paid the ultimate price so their children, and countless others, can one day live a better life and finally be free from these demons.
0:27

This is Mansoureh Heydari and her husband Behrouz Mansouri, an ordinary Iranian nurse and technical instructor from Bushehr who lived quiet lives raising their two small children aged seven and ten. After finishing their shifts on the evening of January 8, 2026, they left their kids with relatives and joined protests against the Islamic regime. They marched with thousands of other fed-up citizens through their city in a peaceful protest, until the regime responded the only way it knew how. Without warning or mercy, its security forces opened fire from inside a mosque, shooting Behrouz in the head. As Mansoureh desperately tried to drag him to safety, she too was gunned down. Their children were orphaned and left alone in a country ruled by the enemies of humanity. Mansoureh and Behrouz are just two of the 40,000+ murdered by these monsters in January 2026. We won't forget their sacrifices or their names. They paid the ultimate price so their children, and countless others, can one day live a better life and finally be free from these demons.

🇮🇷 Association of Iranian Royalists

21,137 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

Pakistan military and ISI has ordered the closure of the University of Balochistan’s Fine Arts Department 30 November 2025 Mahal Baloch, a young Baloch woman an artist and a final-year Fine Arts student at the University of Balochistan poured her heart into a powerful sculpture capturing the painful reality of water scarcity in Gwadar and across Balochistan. She titled her work Prince of Thirst, Prince of Hope a tribute to a land longing for dignity, justice, and life-giving water. But her courage was met not with encouragement, but with repression. Her art, which dared to speak the truth, angered Pakistan’s intelligence agencies and military establishment. Instead of listening, they silenced. Instead of dialogue, they delivered punishment. In an act as absurd as it is cruel, the authorities ordered the complete shutdown of the university’s entire Fine Arts Department simply because one young Baloch woman dared to express reality through sculpture. Today, Pakistan cries crocodile tears about the Taliban denying women an education while its own state forces shut down classrooms, censor creativity, and ban Baloch female students from pursuing art, expression, and higher learning. The hypocrisy could not be clearer. Yet despite these attempts to suffocate the Baloch voice, the spirit of Balochistan remains unbroken. Every act of repression only strengthens the resolve of the people. And in the future Republic of Balochistan, art is not be censored it is be celebrated. The new nation will open modern art institutes, cultural academies, and world-class educational departments designed to uplift women, nurture creativity, and honor the rich cultural soul of the Baloch people. Where one department was shut down by fear, dozens more will rise from hope. The hands that try to break the sculptor today will never stop the sculpture of tomorrow. Balochistan’s artists, students, and daughters will create again freely, proudly, and without fear.
4:36

Pakistan military and ISI has ordered the closure of the University of Balochistan’s Fine Arts Department 30 November 2025 Mahal Baloch, a young Baloch woman an artist and a final-year Fine Arts student at the University of Balochistan poured her heart into a powerful sculpture capturing the painful reality of water scarcity in Gwadar and across Balochistan. She titled her work Prince of Thirst, Prince of Hope a tribute to a land longing for dignity, justice, and life-giving water. But her courage was met not with encouragement, but with repression. Her art, which dared to speak the truth, angered Pakistan’s intelligence agencies and military establishment. Instead of listening, they silenced. Instead of dialogue, they delivered punishment. In an act as absurd as it is cruel, the authorities ordered the complete shutdown of the university’s entire Fine Arts Department simply because one young Baloch woman dared to express reality through sculpture. Today, Pakistan cries crocodile tears about the Taliban denying women an education while its own state forces shut down classrooms, censor creativity, and ban Baloch female students from pursuing art, expression, and higher learning. The hypocrisy could not be clearer. Yet despite these attempts to suffocate the Baloch voice, the spirit of Balochistan remains unbroken. Every act of repression only strengthens the resolve of the people. And in the future Republic of Balochistan, art is not be censored it is be celebrated. The new nation will open modern art institutes, cultural academies, and world-class educational departments designed to uplift women, nurture creativity, and honor the rich cultural soul of the Baloch people. Where one department was shut down by fear, dozens more will rise from hope. The hands that try to break the sculptor today will never stop the sculpture of tomorrow. Balochistan’s artists, students, and daughters will create again freely, proudly, and without fear.

Mir Yar Baloch

20,481 Aufrufe • vor 7 Monaten

Vayne takes you on a hunt. you don't know why. she doesn't take anyone. she says stay behind me. don't speak unless i speak first. don't make a sound when we move. you say yes. she looks at you for a second longer than usual. "if i tell you to run, you run. you don't look back for me. are we clear" you say yes. she doesn't answer. she just turns and walks out the door. you follow her through the city streets. she moves different when she's working. shoulders lower. steps shorter. her head doesn't turn but her eyes do. you can feel her cataloguing everything. the man smoking outside the tavern. the cat under the cart. the second floor window with the curtain half drawn. she leads you through an alley you didn't know existed. stops at a brick wall. then she climbs. there are handholds carved into the mortar that you wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't used them first. she's halfway up before she realizes you're still at the bottom. she looks down at you. "up" you climb. your hands are shaking by the time you reach the top. the roof is flat. old clay tiles along the edges. a low wall you can crouch behind. the city stretches out below you in every direction. a thousand windows glowing gold in the dusk. she's already at the far side. crouched. crossbow unslung. watching a building across the square. she doesn't look at you when you come up beside her. "stay low" you crouch. "that building. third floor. second window from the left" you look. "i see it" he'll come to that window sometime tonight. i've watched him do it for three nights. i want to know who he meets you ask who he is. her jaw tightens. "a demon pretending to be a man" you don't ask what that means. you settle in beside her. the wind is up here. it pulls at her hair and she doesn't bother fixing it. the sun is going down behind her. her profile in the gold light looks like something carved. her hands on the crossbow are steady. completely still. you've never seen anyone be this still. an hour passes. she doesn't move. you try not to move. your leg falls asleep. you shift an inch. she looks at you. you go completely still again. she looks back at the window. another hour. the sun is gone. the city is blue and black. lamps are lighting up one by one. the air is getting cold. you're shivering before you realize you're shivering. she notices. she doesn't say anything. then she takes off her cloak. doesn't look at you. holds it out to the side. "take it" you say "you'll be cold" "i don't get cold. take it" you take it. it's warm from her. it smells like leather and steel and something underneath. pine. smoke. something you can't name. you put it around your shoulders. the hem pools on the tile. it's huge on you. it's not huge on her. you hadn't realized how tall she is until you were wearing her cloak. she doesn't look at you for the next ten minutes. the stars come out. she shifts closer to you. just a little. so her shoulder is almost touching yours. you don't say anything about it. she doesn't either. you can feel the heat coming off her even through the cloak. another hour. still nothing at the window. she says "tell me something" you blink. "what" "anything. i need to stay sharp. talking keeps me sharp. not about the target. something else" you didn't expect that. you tell her about a book you've been reading. she listens. actually listens. her eyes never leave the window but you can tell she's hearing every word. she asks one question. you answer. she goes quiet again. you keep talking. quieter now. she interrupts you. "shh" she's not looking at the window anymore. she's looking at the roof two buildings over. you don't see anything. you don't see anything for a long time. then you do. a shadow that moves the wrong way. her hand finds yours. she doesn't look at you when she does it. her eyes don't leave the shadow. her fingers lace through yours and LOCK. tight. too tight. knuckles going white around your hand. "don't move" she breathes. you don't move. you can feel every ounce of her focus through her grip. it's not a lover's hold. it's a predator's. every muscle in her hand coiled. ready to drop yours the instant she needs the crossbow. she's not holding you for you. she's holding you to keep track of where you are without having to look. it should scare you. it doesn't. there is something about being held that tight by someone that dangerous that makes the rest of the world go quiet. your heartbeat slows. your breathing slows. the cold stops mattering. you are not the one hunting but you are with the one who is. and nothing is going to get through her to reach you. the shadow crosses the roof and disappears into a stairwell. she watches the spot it left for another full minute. her hand is still locked around yours. she doesn't loosen it. you don't want her to. finally she lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding. "not him. but someone who works for him" her grip eases. slowly. finger by finger. like she's having to consciously tell each one to let go. the last one is her thumb. it stays against your palm for half a second longer than the rest. then she takes her hand back. the cold rushes in where she was. she glances at you. just for a second. then she looks back at the window. the rest of the night she's quieter than before. the target never shows. when the sky starts turning grey she stands up. stretches. rolls her shoulders. looks out over the city one last time. "we're done" you stand too. your legs don't work right. she catches your elbow without looking. "careful" she keeps her hand there until you're steady. then she takes it away. you start to hand her cloak back. she says "keep it for the climb down" she goes first. you follow. the handholds are easier going down once you know where they are. when you're both on the ground she turns to take the cloak. you hand it to her. her fingers brush yours. she doesn't pull back as fast as she usually does. she puts the cloak back on. it's warm now. from you. she has to notice. she doesn't say anything about it. she walks you home. at your door she stops. "don't tell anyone what you saw tonight" you say "i didn't see much" she looks at you. her eyes in the lamplight. the edge of her mouth. almost softer than it should be. "you saw enough" then she turns and walks back into the dark. you close the door. your hand still feels cold where hers was. you can still smell pine on your shirt. you don't sleep. Study the Saskio way
8:09

Vayne takes you on a hunt. you don't know why. she doesn't take anyone. she says stay behind me. don't speak unless i speak first. don't make a sound when we move. you say yes. she looks at you for a second longer than usual. "if i tell you to run, you run. you don't look back for me. are we clear" you say yes. she doesn't answer. she just turns and walks out the door. you follow her through the city streets. she moves different when she's working. shoulders lower. steps shorter. her head doesn't turn but her eyes do. you can feel her cataloguing everything. the man smoking outside the tavern. the cat under the cart. the second floor window with the curtain half drawn. she leads you through an alley you didn't know existed. stops at a brick wall. then she climbs. there are handholds carved into the mortar that you wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't used them first. she's halfway up before she realizes you're still at the bottom. she looks down at you. "up" you climb. your hands are shaking by the time you reach the top. the roof is flat. old clay tiles along the edges. a low wall you can crouch behind. the city stretches out below you in every direction. a thousand windows glowing gold in the dusk. she's already at the far side. crouched. crossbow unslung. watching a building across the square. she doesn't look at you when you come up beside her. "stay low" you crouch. "that building. third floor. second window from the left" you look. "i see it" he'll come to that window sometime tonight. i've watched him do it for three nights. i want to know who he meets you ask who he is. her jaw tightens. "a demon pretending to be a man" you don't ask what that means. you settle in beside her. the wind is up here. it pulls at her hair and she doesn't bother fixing it. the sun is going down behind her. her profile in the gold light looks like something carved. her hands on the crossbow are steady. completely still. you've never seen anyone be this still. an hour passes. she doesn't move. you try not to move. your leg falls asleep. you shift an inch. she looks at you. you go completely still again. she looks back at the window. another hour. the sun is gone. the city is blue and black. lamps are lighting up one by one. the air is getting cold. you're shivering before you realize you're shivering. she notices. she doesn't say anything. then she takes off her cloak. doesn't look at you. holds it out to the side. "take it" you say "you'll be cold" "i don't get cold. take it" you take it. it's warm from her. it smells like leather and steel and something underneath. pine. smoke. something you can't name. you put it around your shoulders. the hem pools on the tile. it's huge on you. it's not huge on her. you hadn't realized how tall she is until you were wearing her cloak. she doesn't look at you for the next ten minutes. the stars come out. she shifts closer to you. just a little. so her shoulder is almost touching yours. you don't say anything about it. she doesn't either. you can feel the heat coming off her even through the cloak. another hour. still nothing at the window. she says "tell me something" you blink. "what" "anything. i need to stay sharp. talking keeps me sharp. not about the target. something else" you didn't expect that. you tell her about a book you've been reading. she listens. actually listens. her eyes never leave the window but you can tell she's hearing every word. she asks one question. you answer. she goes quiet again. you keep talking. quieter now. she interrupts you. "shh" she's not looking at the window anymore. she's looking at the roof two buildings over. you don't see anything. you don't see anything for a long time. then you do. a shadow that moves the wrong way. her hand finds yours. she doesn't look at you when she does it. her eyes don't leave the shadow. her fingers lace through yours and LOCK. tight. too tight. knuckles going white around your hand. "don't move" she breathes. you don't move. you can feel every ounce of her focus through her grip. it's not a lover's hold. it's a predator's. every muscle in her hand coiled. ready to drop yours the instant she needs the crossbow. she's not holding you for you. she's holding you to keep track of where you are without having to look. it should scare you. it doesn't. there is something about being held that tight by someone that dangerous that makes the rest of the world go quiet. your heartbeat slows. your breathing slows. the cold stops mattering. you are not the one hunting but you are with the one who is. and nothing is going to get through her to reach you. the shadow crosses the roof and disappears into a stairwell. she watches the spot it left for another full minute. her hand is still locked around yours. she doesn't loosen it. you don't want her to. finally she lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding. "not him. but someone who works for him" her grip eases. slowly. finger by finger. like she's having to consciously tell each one to let go. the last one is her thumb. it stays against your palm for half a second longer than the rest. then she takes her hand back. the cold rushes in where she was. she glances at you. just for a second. then she looks back at the window. the rest of the night she's quieter than before. the target never shows. when the sky starts turning grey she stands up. stretches. rolls her shoulders. looks out over the city one last time. "we're done" you stand too. your legs don't work right. she catches your elbow without looking. "careful" she keeps her hand there until you're steady. then she takes it away. you start to hand her cloak back. she says "keep it for the climb down" she goes first. you follow. the handholds are easier going down once you know where they are. when you're both on the ground she turns to take the cloak. you hand it to her. her fingers brush yours. she doesn't pull back as fast as she usually does. she puts the cloak back on. it's warm now. from you. she has to notice. she doesn't say anything about it. she walks you home. at your door she stops. "don't tell anyone what you saw tonight" you say "i didn't see much" she looks at you. her eyes in the lamplight. the edge of her mouth. almost softer than it should be. "you saw enough" then she turns and walks back into the dark. you close the door. your hand still feels cold where hers was. you can still smell pine on your shirt. you don't sleep. Study the Saskio way

Tony Chau

11,734 Aufrufe • vor 2 Monaten

How do babies assess danger? ⚠️ The ability to detect threats to one’s safety is an important survival mechanism. And your baby begins learning to do so almost immediately after birth. But when literally everything is new to them, how do infants determine what should make them wary? While there is some research to suggest an instinctual basis for the fear of certain stimuli (including potential predators), the primary way your baby assesses threats is social: They learn by watching you. Infants are keen observers of your facial expressions, eyes, body language, and tone of voice - and continually use this data to monitor and assess their own safety. When you’re comfortable in a situation your baby typically will be as well. But if you express apprehension or indicate stress, that can all turn on a dime. As they become more mobile and independent, toddlers begin a whole new process of assessing potential threats in comparison to their own growing abilities. And while they need lots of supervision (and can sometimes wildly overestimate their own levels of skill), it can also be fascinating to watch their cautious navigation of the world. Check out this new walker’s reaction to a large crack in the pavement. As she spots it, she stops dead in her tracks. Her hands jerk outward with surprise. She cautiously steps to the left, presumably to assess whether there is a way around the problem. (But alas, there isn’t.) Look what she does next. She turns her head over her shoulder to check in with Mom. It’s a shame that the original audio here has been replaced with music, but it’s not hard to imagine that Mom offers a bit of verbal reassurance in this moment. We don’t know exactly what she says, but its underlying message was almost certainly, “You’re alright.” And with this vote of confidence she begins the process of crossing the gap - first squatting to touch the level ground on the other side, then tenderly placing her foot onto the crack itself and shuffling over to the other side. The whole scene is a lovely window on her thinking as she assesses a potential threat - and a great reminder of the importance of trusted adult coaches as toddlers navigate a strange new world. This video was shared to IG by kg_0773.
0:31

How do babies assess danger? ⚠️ The ability to detect threats to one’s safety is an important survival mechanism. And your baby begins learning to do so almost immediately after birth. But when literally everything is new to them, how do infants determine what should make them wary? While there is some research to suggest an instinctual basis for the fear of certain stimuli (including potential predators), the primary way your baby assesses threats is social: They learn by watching you. Infants are keen observers of your facial expressions, eyes, body language, and tone of voice - and continually use this data to monitor and assess their own safety. When you’re comfortable in a situation your baby typically will be as well. But if you express apprehension or indicate stress, that can all turn on a dime. As they become more mobile and independent, toddlers begin a whole new process of assessing potential threats in comparison to their own growing abilities. And while they need lots of supervision (and can sometimes wildly overestimate their own levels of skill), it can also be fascinating to watch their cautious navigation of the world. Check out this new walker’s reaction to a large crack in the pavement. As she spots it, she stops dead in her tracks. Her hands jerk outward with surprise. She cautiously steps to the left, presumably to assess whether there is a way around the problem. (But alas, there isn’t.) Look what she does next. She turns her head over her shoulder to check in with Mom. It’s a shame that the original audio here has been replaced with music, but it’s not hard to imagine that Mom offers a bit of verbal reassurance in this moment. We don’t know exactly what she says, but its underlying message was almost certainly, “You’re alright.” And with this vote of confidence she begins the process of crossing the gap - first squatting to touch the level ground on the other side, then tenderly placing her foot onto the crack itself and shuffling over to the other side. The whole scene is a lovely window on her thinking as she assesses a potential threat - and a great reminder of the importance of trusted adult coaches as toddlers navigate a strange new world. This video was shared to IG by kg_0773.

Dan Wuori

175,634 Aufrufe • vor 2 Jahren

Pain demands to be felt We brought Banban home around 2017. Papa was planning to pass her to one of his bowling buddies, but we begged, and somehow he smiled and said yes. She came with Lassy and Fudgie at first—those three tumbling through the house like they owned it. One by one, old age quietly took the others, leaving Banban as the last gentle giant of that little pack. She was always indoors, but every chance we got, we’d walk her slowly outside, her tail still sweeping the air like she was young again. I used to be only a cat person—those scrappy puspins were my world. But Banban? She never once snapped or pushed them away. She’d let them curl into her warmth, even nap beside her massive paws. I can still see her lying there, patient, eyes half-closed, as if saying, “It’s okay, little ones. You’re safe here.” That quiet kindness was her language. She carried us through everything. Papa’s death in 2019 left a hole nothing could fill—except Banban, still there at the gate, still wagging like he might walk through the door any second. The pandemic locked us in; Typhoon Ulysses tore the world apart outside; she stayed steady. Through tears, fear, silence, she was the one constant heartbeat we could touch. Every time I left the house, I came back with pasalubong just for her—warm pandesal, bits of chicken, her favorite treats. The second the gate creaked, there she was: ears up, eyes bright, that full-body wiggle of pure joy. No matter how heavy the day had been, her welcome cracked me open with light. Then Britney and Cabs arrived—tiny tornadoes of chaos. They’d nip at her ears, climb over her like she was furniture. Banban never growled. She’d just sigh that big, dramatic sigh, shift her weight, and let them win. Big sister to the end. January 2026 stole her hind legs without warning. We carried her, supported her, walked her anyway—whispering, “Come on, girl, just a little more.” I prayed until my throat hurt, bargained with God, promised anything if she’d just stand again. We bought every medicine, tried every trick. But this week her light started fading fast. Last Wednesday, I looked into those tired brown eyes and knew: we were down to hours. I sat on the floor beside her, forehead to forehead. I whispered sorry—for not walking her one more time around the block, for not sneaking her one extra treat (even though she was already the most spoiled girl in the world). I thanked her for every single day she chose us, for guarding our broken hearts, for being the thread that still tied me to Papa. I told her she didn’t have to fight anymore. “It’s okay to rest now, Banban. You’ve been so brave. I love you. Go find Papa—he’s waiting.” The room went still. Birds sang outside like they knew. Time stretched thin. Five minutes later, she sighed one last soft breath and slipped away—peaceful, no pain, just… gone. The tears haven’t stopped. She was my last living piece of him. Papa brought her home; now they’re together again, I have to believe that. I begged her to come back to us somehow, in some new fur and wagging tail. Coming home now is the hardest part. The gate is empty. No happy bark, no smiling face pressed to the bars, no warm body leaning into my legs. The silence screams. But I thank God—for the gift of her, for the gentle way He carried her home. I’ll keep praying she finds her way back. We love you beyond words, Banban. Run free, our sweetest Ate. Chase endless zoomies, roll in fields of treats, rest your head on Papa’s lap. Watch over us, okay? Until we meet again. I miss you with every breath. But heaven denied Destiny decried Something beautiful died Too soon But I'm letting go I'm givin' up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you that's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright Someday I'll be fine But just not tonight
1:32

Pain demands to be felt We brought Banban home around 2017. Papa was planning to pass her to one of his bowling buddies, but we begged, and somehow he smiled and said yes. She came with Lassy and Fudgie at first—those three tumbling through the house like they owned it. One by one, old age quietly took the others, leaving Banban as the last gentle giant of that little pack. She was always indoors, but every chance we got, we’d walk her slowly outside, her tail still sweeping the air like she was young again. I used to be only a cat person—those scrappy puspins were my world. But Banban? She never once snapped or pushed them away. She’d let them curl into her warmth, even nap beside her massive paws. I can still see her lying there, patient, eyes half-closed, as if saying, “It’s okay, little ones. You’re safe here.” That quiet kindness was her language. She carried us through everything. Papa’s death in 2019 left a hole nothing could fill—except Banban, still there at the gate, still wagging like he might walk through the door any second. The pandemic locked us in; Typhoon Ulysses tore the world apart outside; she stayed steady. Through tears, fear, silence, she was the one constant heartbeat we could touch. Every time I left the house, I came back with pasalubong just for her—warm pandesal, bits of chicken, her favorite treats. The second the gate creaked, there she was: ears up, eyes bright, that full-body wiggle of pure joy. No matter how heavy the day had been, her welcome cracked me open with light. Then Britney and Cabs arrived—tiny tornadoes of chaos. They’d nip at her ears, climb over her like she was furniture. Banban never growled. She’d just sigh that big, dramatic sigh, shift her weight, and let them win. Big sister to the end. January 2026 stole her hind legs without warning. We carried her, supported her, walked her anyway—whispering, “Come on, girl, just a little more.” I prayed until my throat hurt, bargained with God, promised anything if she’d just stand again. We bought every medicine, tried every trick. But this week her light started fading fast. Last Wednesday, I looked into those tired brown eyes and knew: we were down to hours. I sat on the floor beside her, forehead to forehead. I whispered sorry—for not walking her one more time around the block, for not sneaking her one extra treat (even though she was already the most spoiled girl in the world). I thanked her for every single day she chose us, for guarding our broken hearts, for being the thread that still tied me to Papa. I told her she didn’t have to fight anymore. “It’s okay to rest now, Banban. You’ve been so brave. I love you. Go find Papa—he’s waiting.” The room went still. Birds sang outside like they knew. Time stretched thin. Five minutes later, she sighed one last soft breath and slipped away—peaceful, no pain, just… gone. The tears haven’t stopped. She was my last living piece of him. Papa brought her home; now they’re together again, I have to believe that. I begged her to come back to us somehow, in some new fur and wagging tail. Coming home now is the hardest part. The gate is empty. No happy bark, no smiling face pressed to the bars, no warm body leaning into my legs. The silence screams. But I thank God—for the gift of her, for the gentle way He carried her home. I’ll keep praying she finds her way back. We love you beyond words, Banban. Run free, our sweetest Ate. Chase endless zoomies, roll in fields of treats, rest your head on Papa’s lap. Watch over us, okay? Until we meet again. I miss you with every breath. But heaven denied Destiny decried Something beautiful died Too soon But I'm letting go I'm givin' up the ghost But don't get me wrong I'll always love you that's why I wrote you this very last song I guess this is where we say goodbye I know I'll be alright Someday I'll be fine But just not tonight

1Jrome

19,287 Aufrufe • vor 4 Monaten

This is real footage of Zeros taking off from the deck of the Akagi. For half a year, this single ship was the most successful aircraft carrier on Earth. Its planes struck Pearl Harbor, Darwin, and Ceylon, and it never lost. Then, in a few minutes, she was doomed. This is the story of the Akagi.. ⠀ From Battlecruiser to Flagship The Akagi, named after Mount Akagi in Japan, was not even meant to be a carrier. She was laid down as a massive battlecruiser, but a naval treaty in the 1920s halted her construction. Rather than scrap the enormous hull, Japan rebuilt her into an aircraft carrier, one of the largest in the world. By 1941 she had become the flagship of the Kido Butai, the First Air Fleet. This was the most powerful concentration of naval air power on the planet, six aircraft carriers operating together as a single striking fist, something no other navy had ever done. From her deck, Admiral Chuichi Nagumo commanded the whole force. When Japan decided to open the war with a knockout blow against the United States, it was the Akagi that led the way. The Carrier That Led Japan's Offensive On the morning of December 7 1941, the Akagi sat in the dark waters north of Hawaii, and launched her aircraft toward Pearl Harbor. Her torpedo bombers helped tear apart the American battleship fleet as it lay at anchor. The man who led the entire air attack, Mitsuo Fuchida, flew from her deck. The Akagi was, quite literally, the ship from which America's war began. And she was just getting started. Over the next several months, the Akagi and her sister carriers went on a rampage across a third of the globe. In January they struck Rabaul. In February they fell upon the Australian city of Darwin, launching a devastating surprise raid that sank eight ships and became known as Australia's Pearl Harbor. ⠀ Across the Indian Ocean Then they turned west, into the Indian Ocean. In the spring of 1942 the Kido Butai swept toward Ceylon, hunting the British Eastern Fleet. Akagi's aircraft helped sink British warships, including the heavy cruisers Cornwall and Dorsetshire, and sent the Royal Navy reeling out of the eastern Indian Ocean entirely. In just half a year, the aircraft launched from that deck had struck Hawaii, the Dutch East Indies, Australia, and Ceylon. They had helped sink American, British, and Australian ships across thousands of miles of ocean. The Akagi had not lost a single battle. She was the most successful and most feared aircraft carrier in the world, the flagship of a force that seemed unstoppable. It would all end on one morning in June. The Battle of Midway In June 1942, the Akagi led the Kido Butai toward a tiny American outpost called Midway. The plan was to seize the island and destroy what was left of the American carrier fleet. But the Americans had broken the Japanese codes. They knew the Akagi and her sisters were coming, and they were waiting. On the morning of June 4, the battle turned into chaos. The Japanese carriers had just fought off waves of American attacks, and below the flight deck the Akagi's hangars were packed with aircraft being frantically rearmed and refueled, fuel lines and bombs lying everywhere. It was the most dangerous possible moment to be caught. And at that exact moment, American dive bombers rolled in out of the sky, unseen until it was too late. ⠀ One Bomb A lookout screamed a warning. Then the bombs fell. The Akagi was struck by a single bomb from an American dive bomber, dropped by Lieutenant Richard Best, while near misses battered her hull and jammed her rudder. Just one direct hit. But it struck in the worst possible place, punching down into the hangar deck packed with armed, fueled aircraft. The explosion set off a chain reaction. Fires roared through the ship, feeding on the fuel and detonating the bombs stacked among the planes. Within minutes the pride of the Japanese fleet was doomed, a spreading inferno no one could control. The flagship that had conquered half an ocean was mortally wounded by one well-aimed bomb. Admiral Nagumo was forced to abandon his burning flagship and transfer his command to another ship. The Akagi was left blazing, unnavigable, circling helplessly. The End of the Akagi The Akagi burned all day and into the night. Unable to save her, and unwilling to let her fall into American hands, the Japanese ordered her own destroyers to sink her. In the early hours of June 5 1942, torpedoes from her escorts sent her to the bottom. She went down bow first. 267 of her crew died with her. She did not go alone. All four Japanese carriers at Midway, every one of them a veteran of Pearl Harbor, were sunk in the same battle, taking with them their irreplaceable aircraft and elite crews. It was the turning point of the entire Pacific war. Japan would never recover the initiative. For over 75 years, the Akagi lay lost in the dark. Then in 2019 her wreck was finally found, more than 17,000 feet down, and in 2023 a robot submarine descended to look upon her for the first time since she sank. The most successful carrier in the world, resting in the deep, where a few fatal minutes sent her. This was the story of the Akagi. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.
0:39

This is real footage of Zeros taking off from the deck of the Akagi. For half a year, this single ship was the most successful aircraft carrier on Earth. Its planes struck Pearl Harbor, Darwin, and Ceylon, and it never lost. Then, in a few minutes, she was doomed. This is the story of the Akagi.. ⠀ From Battlecruiser to Flagship The Akagi, named after Mount Akagi in Japan, was not even meant to be a carrier. She was laid down as a massive battlecruiser, but a naval treaty in the 1920s halted her construction. Rather than scrap the enormous hull, Japan rebuilt her into an aircraft carrier, one of the largest in the world. By 1941 she had become the flagship of the Kido Butai, the First Air Fleet. This was the most powerful concentration of naval air power on the planet, six aircraft carriers operating together as a single striking fist, something no other navy had ever done. From her deck, Admiral Chuichi Nagumo commanded the whole force. When Japan decided to open the war with a knockout blow against the United States, it was the Akagi that led the way. The Carrier That Led Japan's Offensive On the morning of December 7 1941, the Akagi sat in the dark waters north of Hawaii, and launched her aircraft toward Pearl Harbor. Her torpedo bombers helped tear apart the American battleship fleet as it lay at anchor. The man who led the entire air attack, Mitsuo Fuchida, flew from her deck. The Akagi was, quite literally, the ship from which America's war began. And she was just getting started. Over the next several months, the Akagi and her sister carriers went on a rampage across a third of the globe. In January they struck Rabaul. In February they fell upon the Australian city of Darwin, launching a devastating surprise raid that sank eight ships and became known as Australia's Pearl Harbor. ⠀ Across the Indian Ocean Then they turned west, into the Indian Ocean. In the spring of 1942 the Kido Butai swept toward Ceylon, hunting the British Eastern Fleet. Akagi's aircraft helped sink British warships, including the heavy cruisers Cornwall and Dorsetshire, and sent the Royal Navy reeling out of the eastern Indian Ocean entirely. In just half a year, the aircraft launched from that deck had struck Hawaii, the Dutch East Indies, Australia, and Ceylon. They had helped sink American, British, and Australian ships across thousands of miles of ocean. The Akagi had not lost a single battle. She was the most successful and most feared aircraft carrier in the world, the flagship of a force that seemed unstoppable. It would all end on one morning in June. The Battle of Midway In June 1942, the Akagi led the Kido Butai toward a tiny American outpost called Midway. The plan was to seize the island and destroy what was left of the American carrier fleet. But the Americans had broken the Japanese codes. They knew the Akagi and her sisters were coming, and they were waiting. On the morning of June 4, the battle turned into chaos. The Japanese carriers had just fought off waves of American attacks, and below the flight deck the Akagi's hangars were packed with aircraft being frantically rearmed and refueled, fuel lines and bombs lying everywhere. It was the most dangerous possible moment to be caught. And at that exact moment, American dive bombers rolled in out of the sky, unseen until it was too late. ⠀ One Bomb A lookout screamed a warning. Then the bombs fell. The Akagi was struck by a single bomb from an American dive bomber, dropped by Lieutenant Richard Best, while near misses battered her hull and jammed her rudder. Just one direct hit. But it struck in the worst possible place, punching down into the hangar deck packed with armed, fueled aircraft. The explosion set off a chain reaction. Fires roared through the ship, feeding on the fuel and detonating the bombs stacked among the planes. Within minutes the pride of the Japanese fleet was doomed, a spreading inferno no one could control. The flagship that had conquered half an ocean was mortally wounded by one well-aimed bomb. Admiral Nagumo was forced to abandon his burning flagship and transfer his command to another ship. The Akagi was left blazing, unnavigable, circling helplessly. The End of the Akagi The Akagi burned all day and into the night. Unable to save her, and unwilling to let her fall into American hands, the Japanese ordered her own destroyers to sink her. In the early hours of June 5 1942, torpedoes from her escorts sent her to the bottom. She went down bow first. 267 of her crew died with her. She did not go alone. All four Japanese carriers at Midway, every one of them a veteran of Pearl Harbor, were sunk in the same battle, taking with them their irreplaceable aircraft and elite crews. It was the turning point of the entire Pacific war. Japan would never recover the initiative. For over 75 years, the Akagi lay lost in the dark. Then in 2019 her wreck was finally found, more than 17,000 feet down, and in 2023 a robot submarine descended to look upon her for the first time since she sank. The most successful carrier in the world, resting in the deep, where a few fatal minutes sent her. This was the story of the Akagi. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.

Untold War Stories

65,365 Aufrufe • vor 8 Tagen

Hunting Ghosts on the Ho Chi Minh Trail: The Secretive Lockheed EC-121R “Batcat” This beast isn’t just any old Constellation. Stripped of its massive radar domes and bristling with a forest of classified antennas, the EC-121R Batcat was a piston-powered shadow warrior built for one deadly serious mission: Operation Igloo White, America’s ultra-secret “electronic fence” during the Vietnam War. In 1970, this exact aircraft touches down at Sattahip, Thailand. Below, U.S. forces had blanketed the jungle trails of Laos with thousands of acoustic and seismic sensors, tiny “lawn darts” that listened for truck engines, footsteps, and vibrations. Orbiting high above for up to 18 hours at a time, the Batcat became the airborne ears: scooping up those faint signals, processing them on board, and beaming the data in real time to ground stations. Result? Instant targeting for fighters and B-52s. Data turned into airstrikes… almost instantly. The other shots show her in her element, camouflaged, triple tailed, and slicing through the Southeast Asian sky like a Cold War ghost. No glory, no headlines… just 17–19 crew members (pilots, electronic wizards, and Combat Information Monitors) flying marathon orbits in the shadows. Part of the 553rd Reconnaissance Wing out of Korat RTAFB, these converted Navy Warning Stars were the unsung heroes of the electronic battlefield, pioneers of the sensor to shooter revolution that still shapes modern warfare. A relic of the Super Constellation era… but flying the most high-tech clandestine mission of its time. What’s your favorite obscure Vietnam War aircraft? Drop it below! #lockheedconstellation #Batcat #covertcargochronicles #HoChiMinhTrail #vietnamwar
1:06

Hunting Ghosts on the Ho Chi Minh Trail: The Secretive Lockheed EC-121R “Batcat” This beast isn’t just any old Constellation. Stripped of its massive radar domes and bristling with a forest of classified antennas, the EC-121R Batcat was a piston-powered shadow warrior built for one deadly serious mission: Operation Igloo White, America’s ultra-secret “electronic fence” during the Vietnam War. In 1970, this exact aircraft touches down at Sattahip, Thailand. Below, U.S. forces had blanketed the jungle trails of Laos with thousands of acoustic and seismic sensors, tiny “lawn darts” that listened for truck engines, footsteps, and vibrations. Orbiting high above for up to 18 hours at a time, the Batcat became the airborne ears: scooping up those faint signals, processing them on board, and beaming the data in real time to ground stations. Result? Instant targeting for fighters and B-52s. Data turned into airstrikes… almost instantly. The other shots show her in her element, camouflaged, triple tailed, and slicing through the Southeast Asian sky like a Cold War ghost. No glory, no headlines… just 17–19 crew members (pilots, electronic wizards, and Combat Information Monitors) flying marathon orbits in the shadows. Part of the 553rd Reconnaissance Wing out of Korat RTAFB, these converted Navy Warning Stars were the unsung heroes of the electronic battlefield, pioneers of the sensor to shooter revolution that still shapes modern warfare. A relic of the Super Constellation era… but flying the most high-tech clandestine mission of its time. What’s your favorite obscure Vietnam War aircraft? Drop it below! #lockheedconstellation #Batcat #covertcargochronicles #HoChiMinhTrail #vietnamwar

Aircraft history junky

16,427 Aufrufe • vor 1 Monat