#this is organized crime btw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

breitzbachbea · 2 years

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i want to send a ship for the ask game but i can't really find one to send- so i'd love to hear about just your favorite ship from anything, or one you just have a lot of thoughts on!

YOU ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD IMMA TALK ABOUT OCS

You see. My main fandom is Hetalia and in 2013 I had the idea that for a little art trade fanfic, I needed some practical, one-off Human OCs. Just for this one AU story.

9 years later and nothing about this turned out to be one-off. 99% of my writer's output is for this AU monstrosity of its own, where the Hetalia characters now have been joined by over 200 named characters. It's basically Orig Fic with the occasional recognizeable name, cuz I do love the creative freedom, but I also love Fanfiction as an exercise of literary analysis, translating a character from one set of circumstances to another. If anyone wants to read pages upon pages of incoherent OC ramblings for this AU, the tag for it is #storie nostre.

And I AM most mentally unwell about SicIre, my true love, my one comfort ship to end all comfort ships. I will return to my Irishman and Sicilian until the end of time. But I don't want to talk about them.

Instead I keep thinking about Francetto these days, two OCs by the name of Francesco Belfari and Dolcetto Acerbi respectively. They're fixing each other. They're making each other worse. Both of these aspects are interlocked like a rusty set of gears. Dolcetto, who's himself a rather pragmatical bastard with a zest to right the wrongs done to him, isn't afraid of what lurks underneath Francesco's loud and cheerful persona. When Francesco needs to indulge his worst instincts, Dolcetto won't judge him for it and will even be in on the bullshit. They see eye to eye. But Francesco also appreciates that Dolcetto IS pragmatical. More pragmatical than him. More grounded, because he'll be able to pull him back from the abyss when he stared at it for a tad too long. Because Francesco makes Dolcetto want to be kinder, that in turn makes Francesco want to be kinder.

Because Dolcetto in turn doesn't feel inherently worthless and unloveable, someone everyone else would be better off without, as he grows closer to Franci. He feels kind of seen by the dirtbag that Francesco can be, he feels no judgement from the man who watches the entire world with boundless and morbid curiosity. The part of Francesco that IS cheery, that IS caring, that loves so deeply before it crosses the point of destruction makes him believe that there are good things out in the world and that he is worthy of them and wants to give them back.

Does this make any sense to anyone BUT me? No. But I am running on less than 6 hours of sleep, gotta be up at 7 tomorrow and can't sleep. So this is what we're getting. thank you for listening.

#beareplies #shayneysides #the basic premise of the AU is btw a Human AU and what if everyone is a big fish in the organized crime shark tank of their country #so most of these people are questionable morally at best. I also have non gangster OCs tho #oh yeah also funfact Francesco and Dolcetto are both in my header with Feli in the middle #Franci is the bearded cheery guy and Dolco is cupid looking mfer who's like fuck this shit im out.#Technically a coherent story with them as protagonists exists over on ao3 called Italian Affairs #but my old writing is. well. A 16 year old sure wrote the beginning of it.#I am actually in the process of rewriting the first book (IA is a sequel) right now. 2 Chapters of I think 16 are down :)#you are so kind for asking I am SO sorry you got such a dogshit answer lmao #storie nostre #franci #dolco

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cl0udshepherd · 10 months

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vent in tags (stress from my job)

#some members of an organized crime ring in my area stole a $5000 saxophone from the shop I work at WHILE I WAS THERE on Thursday #and yeah I wasn't in the area but I didn't even notice and I even TALKED to them beforehand a little bit #I feel so awful about it #I mean. yeah they're literally professional thieves and this is my first ever job but it's a small business and I'm so disappointed in myse #it was a quiet shoplifting ordeal btw not some big crazy scene. over in 3 minutes #All I got was a talk about the culture of the crime ring and how to look out for thief behaviors and let them know you're watching #but god do I feel awful about it #my boss said that they're going to jail but I don't think we're going to get that instrument back and it feels like my fault #I wasn't the only person on the floor #my floor manager was in their area when they took it and he didn't notice either #I also was reminded why customer engagement is important bc it lets them know we see them but I was so out of it dude I wanted to go home #UGH I FEEL SO BAD ToT yes I've cried over it #I feel like I'm going to get fired even though if I was I already would have been I just feel like shit #I mean. at least I know how to look out for theft and also spot members of the crime ring here #and now I have extra motivation to talk to customers... bc I am paranoid as all hell #rant over I hate myself

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thexfilesseason4 · 2 years

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my favorite x files episodes are when mulder and scully join a taskforce of Normal FBI Agents on a Normal FBI Operation like busting an organized crime ring or smth. Like imagine you're a normal bureaucrat at your federal cop job and there's two insanely attractive people whispering to each other in the corner of the conference room and you're like "hey who's that" and your coworker tells you "oh that's the Bigfoot division" and you're like "but we're busting an organized crime ring" and then the tall guy speaks up and is like "oh yeah this crime ring is being led by bigfoot. btw"

#2022 #txf

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ozzgin · 7 months

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A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

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4giorno · 2 years

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okay ive calmed down now after sleeping but still the kids parents should give yoimiya a very angry talking to and never let her near them again

#such an incredibly stupid and irresponsible thing to do to let a fatui near the children #how are you gonna let a guy from the 'war crimes and child soldiers and child kidnapping' organization #be with the kids under your care bc hes 'so nice'??????#i was first like okay yeah yoi cant be blamed bc tartag is a known liar and manipulator to us #(which hes CURRENTLY DOING btw. as far as we are aware he doesnt know yoi knows hes a harbinger)#but as soon as she said she knows i got rlly annoyed. also the way she said it really pissed me off #sigh i was already rlly annoyed bc hoyo for some reason made the appearances time limited #instead of progression based in an already time limited event so i obv missed them bc im doing the event #on wednesday :)))))#and also bc after playing with tartag i can see more clearly than ever how much his story quest #and stuff like him in this event have made a lot of the fandom turn him into a joke of a character #his story quest in itself isnt bad but i hate what it did to the audiences handling of him #but this event is just inexcusably bad. the game will make it out to be that yoi made the right choice #when that is not true

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petitesmafia · 1 year

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just thinking about the whole "what if Chuuya joined the detective agency along with Dazai?" and imagine him getting roped into Dazai's game of making everyone guess what their former jobs were (especially Kunikida)

Kunikida, watching skk bicker: btw did you guys know each other before this? Chuuya: unfortunately yes Dazai (at the same time): thankfully no Kunikida: ??? skk: Chuuya: ...sorry i meant no? Dazai (at the same time): just kidding! yes we did skk: Kunikida: ?????

Kunikida: were you guys students? Dazai: no Kunikida: factory workers? Dazai: no Kunikida: you guys weren't like. criminals of some sort right? Dazai: nope Chuuya, whipping his head to look at Dazai: ???????

Kunikida, praising them after a mission: good work today! btw how did you know PM's routes so well? Chuuya: tbh that's bc we used to w— Dazai: —ander around that area :) Chuuya: ??? Dazai: well Chuuya did. bc he was a bad bad boy who liked to hang out after dark in shady places and wouldn't listen to me when i told him the mafia is a very scaryyy place with very scaryyy people~ Chuuya: ?????

Kunikida: so you guys used to work together? what'd you guys do? any notable projects? Chuuya, thinking about him and Dazai destroying an entire enemy organization overnight at age 16: Chuuya, thinking about various other crimes they've committed: Chuuya, nervously sweating: um. well,,

#ena.hc #enarchive: au #ada!chuuya #bungou stray dogs #skk #ranpo was the first to find out obv and kept quiet #yosano and chuuya are drinking buddies so she found out second #and joined in on it #eventually it was just kunikida in the dark #it's just Chuuya kinda confused but trying his best to play along with Dazai

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matan4il · 5 months

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I am at a loss for words.

A Jewish woman in Paris was kidnapped, held for several days, and raped for being a Jew, and her mother was psychologically taunted and tormented, as "revenge for Palestine."

And while the perpetrator is the main person responsible for this horrific crime, every single person denying or justifying the Oct 7 sexual violence is guilty of contributing to this normalization, making this antisemitic terrorist think his excuse is in any way an acceptable justification for this atrocity. Every single person who didn't believe Jewish victims, every single person who demanded proof, but turned a blind eye to the visual evidence Hamas terrorists themselves provided, every single person who called the films and pictures and testimonies from countless Israelis "propaganda," every single person who justified it and claimed that "rape is resistance." They're all complicit. They all have to know they've helped make Jews everywhere in the world less safe.

Speaking of complicity, even though a UN report found credible evidence for the sexual crimes committed by Hamas on Oct 7 and against Israeli hostages since, the UN secretary general, Antonio Guterres, has personally decided to leave Hamas out of the annual report on sexual violence in conflicts around the world. Israeli commentators expressed their belief that this was done, because had it been included, then the UN would have no choice but to finally recognize that Hamas is a terrorist organization. The UN is complicit. Guterres is complicit. Hold them accountable.

Speaking of the UN's known anti-Israel bias, what a surprise, their report on UNRWA, their own agency, claimed not to support the charges against it, though they did find that UNRWA has "some issues" maintaining its neutrality...

Just to make it clear, "staff publicly taking sides" refers to UNRWA employees being openly anti-Israel, antisemitic and pro anti-Jewish violence, and the "problematic content" in UNRWA textbooks is incitement to terrorism and educating Palestinian kids to be antisemitic. This alone constitutes more than "some issues with neutrality." But there's more. Out of the 12 Gaza UNRWA employees first identified by Israel as having participated in the Hamas massacre, at least three were killed inside Israel on Oct 7 itself, and at least one more was captured on film while helping to kidnap an Israeli young man's body from an Israeli kibbutz into Gaza using a vehicle with UN license plates. I'd say that's a bit more than "difficulties with neutrality". In fact, the UN itself implicitly recognized the evidence was damning, or it would not have fired nine of the twelve right away, and admit a tenth UN worker was dead following the invasion and attack on Israeli communities, while claiming they're still "clarifying" the identities of the other two killed employees who participated in the Hamas massacre. BTW, it's been about 3 months of the UN "clarifying" the identities of those other two dead employees (screenshot below is from the article published 2 days ago, link with same claim on "clarification" is from Jan 27).

UNRWA is complicit. There are other humanitarian aid NGOs, which can do better. Dismantle UNRWA. But we know the UN will not be dismantling the cash cow that this agency is, even though no other refugee group gets an equal treatment to that. At what point do we say out loud, that if more and more UNRWA employees are found to be complicit in a massacre or being embedded with Hamas, if Hamas terrorists have continuously used UNRWA infrastructure to store weapons and shoot at Israelis, if UNRWA was found to be providing a terrorist organization with internet and electricity, and if the UN can't hold its own agency accountable, then the UN is also complicit in UNRWA's collaboration with Hamas?

In Israel itself, as the biggest Jewish community in the world is celebrating Passover, attacks on Israeli Jews continue.

Two days ago, on the Eve of Passover, a combined terrorist attack took place in Jerusalem, in an ultraorthodox neighborhood, with two Palestinian terrorists driving their car into a group of visibly Jewish young people, then the attackers left their car and tried shooting at their victims, but the weapon thankfully malfunctioned. Three people were lightly wounded. (the vid below shows most of the attack, but not the graphic parts of the car hitting the young Jewish men)

youtube

Yestrday, the Lebanon-based terrorist organization Hezbollah launched three suicide drones at Israel's northern communities, along its Mediterranean shore. This attack comes on the heels of the news that out of 18 Israelis wounded in a previous Hezbollah drone attack on an Israeli Arab Bedouin town, one has died from his injuries, after fighting for his life for 5 days. It's 27 years old Dor Zimel, an officer who was stationed in that town to protect it. Dor was set to get married next month, and he had proposed to his fiancee with a ring donated by a bereaved father (his son, 23 years old Addir Messika, was a jewelry designer, and the ring was one he designed before he was murdered by Hamas terrorists at the Nova music festival on Oct 7). Dor's organs were donated and saved the lives of 7 people, including an injured soldier, who's also the father of a girl. May Dor and Addir's memory be a blessing.

And today, on the second day of Passover, an attempted stabbing attack was stopped before the Palestinian female terrorist managed to harm anyone. She was neutralized at the scene.

I'm sure all those who decried Israel having to continue its war against Hamas during Ramadan are being extra loud about this wave of anti-Jewish violence during Passover, which is actually just a partial list of the on going attacks on Israeli Jews during this holiday.

In other news, the preparations for the IDF's ground operation in Rafah have actually already started. Reports suggest 250,000 Palestinians who have come to the southern city as they left other war zones in Gaza, have already left Rafah, and that Israel has already started building encampments to house those it will evacuate from the city before the ground operation begins.

Trying to remember when have I ever seen an army building an entire camp city for the enemy's civilian population. I'm coming up blank.

This is Miri Gad Mesikka.

She lives in kibbutz Be'eri, together with her husband Eli and their 3 kids. On Oct 7, they locked themselves in the bomb shelter from the invading Hamas terrorists. They were in there for 12 hours, fighting for control of the bomb shelter's door, until the terrorists set their house on fire, and the Gad Messika family had to make an impossible choice: stay and maybe suffocate to death from the smoke (or worse if the fire got in), or jump from their second floor window, probably be injured and maybe be shot to death by the terrorists. Eventually, they chose to jump out. They all got injured, and one of her sons got his leg broken, but the terrorists didn't spot them, and this decision saved their lives. During the time they were locked inside the bomb shelter, Miri recounts how she would see some of her friends and neighbors not responding anymore, and she couldn't know why. She kept hoping it was because their phone batteries ran out. "Today I know some of them were being kidnapped, while others were being murdered. It was a massacre, happening in countless different spots at the same time." One of her friends told Miri, that her daughter, a baby who was less than one years old, was shot in the head right in front of her. Then the friend's husband was murdered as well, and despite being shot with a bullet in her lungs herself, the friend somehow managed to get herself and her two other kids away.

Never forget.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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