#Coastal Security Group

[localnewspaper-blog]

Coastal Security Exercise named ‘SAGAR KAVACH (TN&PY) 01/2024’ was conducted by Indian Coast Guard

Coastal Security Exercise named ‘SAGAR KAVACH (TN&PY) 01/2024’ was conducted by Indian Coast Guard #News #tamilnadu #Pondicherry

  ‘SAGAR KAVACH (TN&PY) 01/2024’ Coastal Security  Coastal Security Exercise named ‘SAGAR KAVACH (TN&PY) 01/2024’ was conducted by the Indian Coast Guard to check the efficacy and preparedness of security forces and intelligence agencies against possible terrorist attacks along the Tamil Nadu and Pondicherry Coast from 19.06.2024 to 20.06.2024. Coastal Security Group, Tamil Nadu Police, Indian…

[whencyclopedia]

Utah Beach

Utah Beach was the westernmost of the five beaches attacked in the D-Day Normandy landings of 6 June 1944 and the one taken with the fewest casualties. Paratroopers were also dropped behind Utah, and despite being widely dispersed and suffering heavy casualties, they managed to secure this western flank of the invasion and liberate the first French town, Ste-Mère-Église.

Operation Overlord

The amphibious assault on the beaches of Normandy was the first stage of Operation Overlord, which sought to free Western Europe from occupation by Nazi Germany. The supreme commander of the Allied invasion force was General Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969), who had been in charge of the Allied operations in the Mediterranean. The commander-in-chief of the Normandy land forces, 39 divisions in all, was the experienced General Bernard Montgomery (1887-1976). Commanding the air element was Air Chief Marshal Trafford Leigh Mallory (1892-1944), with the naval element commanded by Admiral Bertram Ramsay (1883-1945).

Nazi Germany had long prepared for an Allied invasion, but the German high command was unsure where exactly such an invasion would take place. Allied diversionary strategies added to the uncertainty, but the most likely places remained either the Pas de Calais, the closest point to British shores, or Normandy with its wide flat beaches. The Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (1889-1945) attempted to fortify the entire coast from Spain to the Netherlands with a series of bunkers, pillboxes, artillery batteries, and troops, but this Atlantic Wall, as he called it, was far from being complete in the summer of 1944. In addition, the wall was thin since there was no real depth to the defences.

Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt (1875-1953), commander-in-chief of the German army in the West, believed it would be impossible to stop an invasion on the coast and so it would be better to hold the bulk of the defensive forces as a mobile reserve to counterattack against enemy beachheads. Field Marshal Erwin Rommel (1891-1944), commander of Army Group B, disagreed and considered it essential to halt any invasion on the beaches themselves. Further, Rommel believed that Allied air superiority meant that movements of reserves would be severely hampered. Hitler agreed with Rommel, and so the defenders were strung out wherever the fortifications were at their weakest. Rommel improved the static defences and added steel anti-tank structures to all the larger beaches. In the end, Rundstedt was given a mobile reserve, but the compromise weakened both plans of defence.

The German response would not be helped either by their confused command structure, which meant that Rundstedt could not call on any armour (but Rommel, who reported directly to Hitler, could), and neither commander had any control over the paltry naval and air forces available or the separately controlled coastal batteries. Nevertheless, the defences were bulked up around the weaker defences of Normandy to an impressive 31 infantry divisions plus 10 armoured divisions and 7 reserve infantry divisions. The German army had another 13 divisions in other areas of France. A standard German division had a full strength of 15,000 men.

Continue reading...

[sayruq]

Things are escalating fast since the UN Security Council resolution passed

The Yemenis have said if the US strikes them, they'll strike back hard

[zvaigzdelasas]

[Dawn is Pakistani Private Media]

The heinous killing of Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh risks tipping the Middle East into “wider conflict”, the chair of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) told a meeting on Wednesday.

The comments from Gambian Foreign Minister Mamadou Tangara came as a senior Iranian official said during the meeting that the Islamic republic would need to defend itself from Israel, which it blames for Haniyeh’s death last week in Tehran.

Iranian and Palestinian officials called for Wed­nesday’s gathering of the 57-member OIC in the Saudi coastal city of Jeddah, saying the body needed to respond to the killing of the Hamas leader.[...]

Haniyeh’s killing “will not quell the Palestinian cause but rather it amplifies it, underscoring the urgency for justice and human rights for the Pales­tinian people”, [Tangara] said. “The sovereignty and territorial integrity of nation states are fundamental principles underpinning the international order.

“Respecting these principles has profound implications and their violation equally carries significant consequences.”[...]

“Currently, in the absence of any appropriate action by the (UN) Security Council against the aggressions and violations of the Israeli regime, the Islamic Republic of Iran has no choice but to use its inherent right to legitimate defence against the aggressions of this regime,” Ali Bagheri, Iran’s acting foreign minister, told the OIC.

[NewStraitsTimes is Malaysian Private Media]

Malaysia has proposed four key measures to support the Palestinian cause, including the establishment of a group of eminent persons tasked with assessing and identifying measures to implement the International Court of Justice's (ICJ) Advisory Opinion.[...]

He said the measures emphasised the need to expand global support for Palestine, leveraging the International Court of Justice's (ICJ) rulings and the unity achieved by Palestinian factions through the Beijing Declaration.

"Such measures should focus on universal jurisdiction and ensure the consistent application of international law," he stated during the meeting in Jeddah, yesterday.

Second, Malaysia called for the reinstatement of the United Nations Special Committee Against Apartheid.

The primary task of this committee would be to halt the illegal occupation of Palestinian Territories (OPT) by Israel and to address the apartheid policies imposed on Palestinians, he added.

Third, Malaysia proposed that the OIC, in collaboration with like-minded countries, request a resumed session of the 10th Emergency Special Session of the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) on the Issue of Palestine.

"This suggestion is to discuss the means and ways to implement or "give effect" to the ICJ's Advisory Opinion.

"Finally, we should extend our undivided support and fully assist, in the rebuilding of the Palestinian economy and livelihood post-conflict. This is a key step that would ease their return to normalcy," Mohamad said.

Following the assassination of Ismail Haniyeh, who also led Hamas' political bureau, Malaysia called for a concerted effort to counter Israeli propaganda and misinformation.

"Malaysia has always been a strong advocate for peace and stability. As much as we condemn the assassination, we urge all parties to restraint, to avoid escalating the situation into a regional and global crisis.

"The attack in Tehran could well be an attempt to derail the ongoing peace negotiations in the Middle East.

"We should not fall into their trap. Cool heads must prevail. We should support the continuation of the peace process to be resolved at the negotiating table. Diplomacy is the way to go," he noted.[...]

According to [Turkish State Media] Anadolu Agency (AA), the world body also urged the UN Security Council (UNSC) to impose an immediate and comprehensive ceasefire on Israeli aggression and "ensure adequate and sustainable access to humanitarian aid throughout Gaza Strip."

7 Aug 24

[writerfromshikahr]

So I put this random thought up on my BSky about my canon Rook, Aloisia and Lucanis:

Bellara is writing a fanfic about Lucanis & Aloisia, but she changes their names to Lucaro & Alonia and they are part of the elite group of assassins known as "The Gulls" run by a suave leader named Vigo.

Aloisia is like: "The Gulls? Really? What is "assassiny" about seagulls Bellara?"

One of my followers then said this:

Of course now I’d love to see a scene where she and Lucanis are attacked by seagulls and when they get back to the Lighthouse, she tells Bellara, “Never mind, calling them Gulls works.” - Thank you @ ‪Ser T, Guarding the Veil‬.

🐦‍⬛ CONTACT ACCEPTED 🐦‍⬛

------------------------------------------------------------------

Two Crows & 20 Something Seagulls - Lucanis X Rook

------------------------------------------------------------------

The warm Rivaini sun bathed the coastal town as Aloisia and Lucanis strolled along the cobbled streets, their contract complete and their spirits unusually light. After securing a quick lunch from a local bakery—Aloisia with her favourite crusty sandwich and Lucanis indulging in a sweet roll—they decided to take their meal to the small beach area below, settling on the edge of the sea wall.

“This is nice,” Aloisia said, taking a bite of her sandwich and savouring the crisp air mingled with the salty sea breeze. “Quiet.”

Lucanis hummed in agreement, pulling a bit of his sweet roll apart and popping it into his mouth. “You don’t get moments like this in Treviso. Too many people. Too many…”

“Gulls?” Aloisia cut in, nodding toward the growing flock of birds circling above them.

Lucanis glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing as a particularly bold seagull landed a few feet away, staring at his sweet roll with unsettling intensity.

“Relax,” he said, tearing another piece of bread. “It’s one bird.”

The words had barely left his mouth when another gull landed. Then another. And another. Within seconds, they were surrounded.

“Okay, maybe not just one bird,” Aloisia muttered, clutching her sandwich a little closer.

Lucanis scowled, shifting slightly to shield his sweet roll from view. “They won’t do anything. They’re birds.”

At that precise moment, a gull swooped down, its wings flapping wildly as it made a bold grab for Aloisia’s sandwich.

“Hey!” she shouted, jerking back.

Lucanis swatted at the bird, narrowly missing its tail feathers. In the commotion, his sweet roll slipped from his fingers and fell to the sand below.

“Meirda!” he hissed, diving for it, but it was too late. Twenty more gulls appeared as if summoned by an unseen signal, their beady eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

“Lucanis, what’s happening?!” Aloisia shrieked, holding her sandwich high above her head.

“It’s a coordinated attack!” Lucanis shouted, brandishing his cloak like a weapon as gulls dive-bombed from all directions. One particularly aggressive bird latched onto the edge of his sleeve, flapping wildly.

Aloisia yelped as another gull landed on her shoulder, pecking at her sandwich. She spun around, accidentally hitting Lucanis with her free hand.

“Do something! They're swooping at me. Swooping is very bad!"

“I’m trying!” Lucanis growled, grabbing a gull by the neck and holding it aloft while kicking at another that had latched onto his boot. His Antivan grace was nowhere to be seen as he stumbled, swatting and cursing.

Aloisia ducked under his cloak in a desperate attempt to shield herself. “I have half a sandwich left, Lucanis! Half!”

“And I have nothing!” he barked, glaring at the gulls as if sheer intimidation would make them retreat.

Around them, people on the beach had stopped to watch the spectacle, some laughing or calling to their children to look at the “entertaining couple.”

“They’re mocking us,” Aloisia hissed from beneath the cloak.

Lucanis’s response was lost as another gull dive-bombed, narrowly missing his head. His patience snapped. “That’s it!” He brandished his rapier, the polished steel glinting in the sunlight, scattering gulls as he charged forward.

The birds retreated, flapping into the air, but they didn’t go far, circling just out of reach and squawking triumphantly.

Breathless and dishevelled, Aloisia climbed out from under the cloak, clutching the remains of her sandwich. “We lost, didn’t we?”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

Aloisia looked at him, feathers in his hair and sand on his boots, and started laughing. “The Gulls,” she gasped between giggles. “Bellara is going to love this.”

Lucanis sighed, “I’m never eating outside again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis and Aloisia trudged into the kitchen at the Lighthouse, bedraggled and thoroughly unimpressed with life. Aloisia’s hair was an unruly mess, streaked with sand, and Lucanis’s cloak had a new, suspicious stain near the shoulder. Both reeked faintly of salt and indignity.

Bellara, lounging with a book on the common room couch, perked up as they walked in. “Back so soon? What happened?”

Lucanis scowled, tossing his cloak over the back of a chair. “Seagulls,” he growled, his Antivan accent thick with disgust.

Aloisia pulled a feather from her hair, holding it up like evidence in a trial. “A flock of them,” she clarified, glaring at Lucanis as though it were somehow his fault. “We were ambushed. Ambushed, Bellara. One even stole my sandwich!”

Bellara, failing to suppress a grin, set her book aside. “Ah, yes, the majestic gull. Nature’s stealthiest assassin.”

Aloisia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start.”

But Bellara, ever the dramatist, ignored her. “Swooping in with precision, snatching prizes right from under your noses, striking fear into the hearts of—”

“I punched one,” Lucanis interrupted flatly. “It was self-defense.”

Bellara dissolved into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Lucanis Dellamorte, First Talon of the Crows, the Demon of Vyrantium...bested by seagulls.”

Aloisia crossed her arms. “No, he was fine. They didn’t go after him. Just me. Like they had a personal vendetta or something.”

Bellara smirked, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Maybe they knew you mocked my work. The Gulls are lethal, Aloisia. I’ve been saying this all along.”

Aloisia groaned, “You win, okay? Call them whatever you want. Gulls. Winged harbingers of doom. Seafaring assassins. They’re terrifying. Happy?”

Bellara leaned back, grinning ear to ear, and reached for her notebook.

“Lucaro and Alonia versus the flock,” she murmured to herself. “This will make an excellent chapter.”

[creatingblackcharacters]

dia duit! i hope you are well. before i start my ask, i just wanted to say i rlly appreciate ur blog and the MASSIVE amount of work u do, its a testament to ur character and the website as a whole is better off bcs of u.

i was just wondering whether i could get input from yourself, or you followers, abt a character in a story i am writing currently. i myself am a white irish guy, and my story is set in a rural coastal village in the south west of ireland. one of two main characters is a Black woman called mary francis. her dad is a Black man from america whom her white irish mother met while working in america in her twenties, and they moved to ireland, back to the village mary's mam is from, when mary was a toddler. her dad was a professor of literature in [insert american university here], but tbh he didnt like lecturing much bcs he's not a massive fan of public speaking and so when they moved to ireland he rlly appreciated the solitude and space and time to read, and currently he works remotely for an irish university writing articles and the like. mary herself works at and runs the local newsagents, and she is the captain of the parish camogie team. she is a pov character and central to the stories conflict, which is based vaguely off the corrib gas controversy (when shell was extracting gas off the coast of a gaeltacht village, which protested the gas pipe and the onshore gas production as being dangerous to them and the wildlife, and were met with disgusting and disproportionate opposition from the gardaí (irish cops) and private security firms). mary is the head of the protest group against the company doing the mining of a strange new (unearthly) fuel found under the sea off the coast of her village.

my questions centre around 2 concerns. first is that mary is a Black woman in a small rural irish village and ofc there would be some prejudice and anti-Blackness directed towards her. however, i dont want her to be disconnected from her community and have her side of the story be a pure miseryfest while the white characters are havin a grand time. im torn between havin a realistic portrayal of the genuine struggles and racism Black people have to face in ireland, and not wanting mary to be disproportionally unhappy. altho the story deals with a lot of heavy things (environmental destruction, the impact of colonialism on the physical and emotional landscape of a place, neo capitalism, grief, etc) at the end of the day it is a fantasy story with a fair amount of escapism, and i dont want realism to come at the expense of the escapism of Black readers. i know there would be many different opinions on this ofc but i was hoping perhaps ur Black irish followers if u have any might weigh in le bhur dtoil a chairde?

the second concern is that in the real life controversy this story is (vry vry vry loosely) based off, the gardaí and private security firms used force against the protestors, which is true in my story as well, and im worried, given that mary is the head of the protest group and heavily active in protesting, there would be similarities to real life police brutality against Black people. do u have any thoughts/ideas/concerns abt this aspect of the story? as i said before, i dont want the story to be fierce traumatic for mary, and i was plannin that at protests the other protestors would make a point of protectin her and making sure she is alright and not letting the gardaí etc get near her.

thank u so much for all the effort and care that goes into running this blog, and i hope all goes well for u. sorry this ask is so long! also if anyone has any suggestions for what state/university mary's dad should be from, pls let me know bcs idk anythin abt america rlly. go n-éirí leat le gach rud atá á dhéanamh agat faoi láthair a chara <3333

Dia duit! I must admit, I respect so much that you're using Irish in this! I know that's right 😤 make me look that shit up! Thank you for introducing me to the game of camogie, that's some new level sportery. And thank you 🙏🏾

Mary Francis 🤣 yeah this is Irish, all right.

Well first, pick an HBCU!!! omg please pick an HBCU for Black Dad to graduate from, I would love that. They're organized by state on there, and granted if you don't know any states that's fine but given his background, maybe pick one with a literature program that stands out to you? Howard, Clark Atlanta, and Morehouse are easy ones too.

As for your story, well... You don't have to surround the story in her trauma. Like, there doesn't HAVE to be some overtly racist mf in her face making her life difficult. But you cannot have police violence in the story, via the police fighting against the protestors, without recognizing that yeah, there is gonna be some... Racial Context as to how we will be treated, or how her words will be translated versus if someone else had spoken them. For example, very often a Black woman and nonblack woman can say the very same thing, but only the Black woman will be deemed "aggressive" for it. So as a leader, she's gonna have to swallow stuff like that.

You mention that the other protestors recognize her position, and will try to keep her safe. That's another good example. In that, make sure you're able to convey WHY that is important. You don't have to say outright "well we've gotta protect Mary Francis because she's Black". Just a showing of the allyship in the moment, of people checking on her, of noticing when people are being more aggressive with her than they are with her nonblack and white peers- both when they're there and when she's on her own. Integrating things like that allow us as the readers to know that there are moments where her race is affecting how she's being treated. Because in real life, that's how it goes down. It's never really Stated, it's just a fact of life. Most of dealing with racism is just that; day to day microaggressive shit you have to maneuver.

And you're welcome!

[girlactionfigure]

🇮🇱After Rosh Hashana/Shabbat Updates  - events from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - IDF soldiers doing Rosh Hashana prayers during a break deep in Lebanon. )

🔹HEZBOLLAH.. buried Nasrallah in a temporary grave in a secret place.  Israeli hacker group Red Evils believes they extracted the data and publish the site of the grave - suggesting the body be taken in trade for missing Israeli Ron Arad.

🔹IRAN SAYS.. “Israel does not have the military capability to strike vital facilities inside Iran except with Washington's support, and this makes America a partner in the aggression.”

🔹Lebanese media:  Ibrahim Amin al-Sayed, Hezbollah, refuses to accept the leadership of Hezbollah and asks to go to Tehran (Iran capital) to settle down and devote himself to his religion.

🔹FRANCE TO ISRAEL.. French President Emmanuel Macron: "The priority now is to stop arms shipments to Israel that are used for the war in Gaza, France is not supplying them. The priority is to avoid an escalation in Lebanon, I'm afraid we are not being heard enough in this matter. I told Netanyahu that I think this is a mistake." 

.. PM Netanyahu to the President of France: Israel will win with or without you - but your shame will reverberate long after Israel wins.

⚠️OCT. 7 - IDF spox: “IDF will be prepared and on on high alert for fear of terrorist attacks.”

♦️LEBANON - IDF called three Mukhtars and told them to evacuate the residents of the town due to the launches from their town.

♦️LEBANON - IDF attacked a mosque right next to a hospital in Lebanon - - being used as a Hezbollah HQ.  Warnings to evacuate given.

♦️LEBANON - Airstrikes in Gia, coastal city south of Beirut.

♦️GAZA - intense airstrikes in the north of the Gaza Strip.

▪️AID.. Israel allows aid planes from the United Arab Emirates to land at Beirut airport carrying medical aid.

▪️OCT. 7 EVENT LIMITS.. Due to the security situation and the directives of the Home Front Command limiting gatherings, the national memorial ceremony in the Yehoshua Gardens Park will be held in the presence of a limited crowd of families on Oct. 7.  The organizers regret to announce that the tickets for the general public are canceled and call on citizens to obey the instructions of Home Front, watch the ceremony in their residential area in a communal way, and stand together at 19:10 for a minute of silence in solidarity with the families who will be in the park.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Charlotte Alter at Time Magazine:

The soundtrack suggested a Beyoncé concert. The light-up bracelets evoked the Eras Tour. And the exuberant crowd—more than 14,000 strong, lining up in the rain—resembled the early days of Barack Obama. Inside a Philadelphia arena on Aug. 6, Vice President Kamala Harris was greeted with a kind of reception a Democratic presidential candidate hasn’t gotten in years. Fans packed into overflow spaces, waving homemade signs made of glitter and glue as drumlines roared. When Harris introduced her new running mate, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, the cheering lasted more than a minute.

If you’d predicted this scene a month ago to anyone following the race, they would never have believed you. But Harris has pulled off the swiftest vibe shift in modern political history. A contest that revolved around the cognitive decline of a geriatric President has been transformed: Joe Biden is out, Harris is in, and a second Donald Trump presidency no longer seems inevitable. Democrats resigned to a “grim death march” toward certain defeat, as one national organizer put it, felt their gloom replaced by a jolt of hope. Harris smashed fundraising records, raking in $310 million in July. She packed stadiums and dominated TikTok, offering a fresh message focused on the future over the past. Volunteers signed up in droves. Trump’s widening leads across the battleground states evaporated. Over the span of a few weeks in late July and early August, Harris became a political phenomenon. “Our campaign is not just a fight against Donald Trump,” she told the cheering crowd in Philadelphia. “Our campaign is a fight for the future.”

Where has this Kamala Harris been all along? For years, Democratic officials questioned her political chops, pundits mocked her word salads, and her polling suggested limited appeal. Her performance in the 2020 presidential primary was wooden, and her turn as Biden’s No. 2 did little to inspire confidence. Even this summer, as party insiders chattered about possible replacements if Biden stepped aside, “it was explicit from some of the major donors that she can’t win,” says Amanda Litman, the co-founder of Run for Something, an organization that trains young Democrats to run for office. “They didn’t think people were ready to elect someone like her.” Harris may still be the underdog. Trump has arguably the clearer path to 270 electoral votes and an edge on the issues that voters say are most important to them. Harris will have to answer for the Biden Administration’s record, including on inflation and border security. Republicans are casting her as a coastal elite, pointing to positions she took in the 2020 primary—arguing for gun buybacks, a ban on fracking, and an overhaul of the health-insurance system—that may indeed be too liberal to win over many of the swing voters who decide elections. Harris has yet to do a single substantive interview or to explain her policy shifts. (Her campaign denied a request for an interview for this story.) She has to repair ruptures in the party coalition, galvanizing the Black, Hispanic, Arab American, and young voters who migrated away from Biden. Though her early polling numbers are far better than Biden’s were, she lags his 2020 support with some key demographic groups she needs to win.

Harris has less than 90 days to prove that she can convert the momentum of her successful launch into a tough, smart operation capable of beating a former President with a dedicated base of support and a knack for commanding the stage. She inherited a campaign infrastructure and policy record from her predecessor, but the energy is all hers. Picking Walz as a running mate over more conventional choices signals a belief that this race is as much about feelings as it is about fundamentals. Harris’ brand shift—the happy-warrior attitude, the viral memes, the eye roll at Republican “weirdos”—has already done what no Trump opponent has ever been able to do: snatch the spotlight away from him.

She may seem like an overnight sensation, but Harris’ moment was years in the making. Quietly, her small team of top aides had been laying the groundwork for a future presidential run. After the Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision, the Vice President added reproductive rights to her portfolio. Abortion was never a comfortable issue for Biden, a devout Catholic, but it was a natural fit for his No. 2. Harris believed that with Roe gone, Republicans would turn their sights to restricting both birth control and IVF. In the months after Dobbs, she traveled the U.S., talking about abortion rights as a matter of “reproductive freedom.” As far back as the 2022 midterms, aides say, she argued for making this the core of the party’s national message, even as the White House focused on jobs and the economy.

[...] The list was intended for 2028. But when Biden dropped out on July 21 and quickly endorsed Harris, it was instantly pressed into service. The Vice President—clad in a Howard University sweatshirt, munching pizza with anchovies—spent the next 10 hours on the phone, dialing delegates and wrangling endorsements. A day later, the nomination was all but hers. Even though other presidential hopefuls had ties to swing states or big donors, “the list was the thing that we had that they didn’t,” says a top aide. “It wasn’t a fairy godmother waving a magic wand.”

Harris’ ability to sew up the nomination so quickly was a triumph of work ethic and political dexterity that foreshadowed what was to come. “To consolidate the Democratic Party in a matter of hours, to do as many visible events and establish that presence without putting a foot wrong, is a feat,” says Pete Buttigieg, the Transportation Secretary who ran against Harris for the 2020 nomination and was a finalist to become her running mate. “I don’t think anybody expected her to be so flawless.” With Biden no longer atop the ticket, the moribund Democratic grassroots came to life. Harris was capable of delivering a message that never felt quite right under Clinton or Biden: that theirs was the party of the future, and Trump was of the past. Her campaign raised $200 million in the first week, in what it said was the best 24 hours of any candidate in presidential-campaign history. More than 38,000 people registered on Vote.org in the 48 hours after she became the presumptive nominee, eclipsing the voter-registration surge encouraged by Taylor Swift last year. Within a week, Harris erased Trump’s polling dominance in key states, turning a burgeoning landslide into a dead heat.

[...] The shift is perhaps most visible in the digital sphere. While millions of hardcore Democrats would crawl over broken glass to keep Trump from re-election, less reliable voters in Gen Z are especially attuned to online trends. For months, President Biden’s online supporters have been on the defensive about his support for Israel’s war against Hamas. Comments about Gaza flooded pro-Biden content posted to social platforms, making it difficult to create what digital strategists call a “permission structure” to support him. To many, it evoked the online mobs who would mock Clinton supporters in 2016, preventing her from building traction on social media. “In 2016, if you wanted to be an online supporter of Hillary Clinton, you did it in a private Facebook group,” says Litman. “In 2024, you blast it on TikTok, and you’re part of the K-Hive and you make your username the coconut tree.” Even if Washington was taken by surprise, the energetic fighter of the past two weeks matches the Harris whom allies say they have known for years. Louise Renne, a former San Francisco city attorney, recalls that when Harris took over the city’s interest in adoption cases in the DA’s office, she brought an armful of teddy bears to court on her first day. Andrea Dew Steele, a donor-adviser who snacked on wine and cheese with Harris as they typed up her first political bio sheet for her 2003 campaign for San Francisco DA, remembers Harris sitting outside grocery stores with an ironing board stacked with campaign literature. Those who made it through her 2020 primary recall that after she dropped out, she joined the last of her staff in a dance party in the campaign headquarters. Harris’ early allies in California may have seen glimpses of Barack Obama, but her turn on the national stage has seemed more Selina Meyer. After a splashy kickoff in 2019, the Harris 2020 campaign stalled, then sputtered out. Aides say she took advice from too many different advisers offering conflicting guidance. Her record as a prosecutor was unwieldy baggage for a Democratic primary shadowed by a movement for racial justice. In a contest defined by Bernie Sanders on one side and Biden on the other, she never found her lane. Her operation was plagued with mismanagement and infighting. Harris seemed tentative and insecure, terrified of putting a foot wrong. “We did a disservice to her in 2020,” admits Bakari Sellers, a state co-chair on that campaign. “We Bubble-Wrapped her.” Enthusiasm waned; the money dried up. She dropped out long before the first votes were cast in the Iowa caucuses.

[...] Republicans admit Harris will be harder to beat than a diminished Biden. But they believe the candidate riding high the past few weeks will soon, under sustained attack, come down to earth. “If she runs the same kind of campaign she ran in 2019 and 2020, her campaign will collapse and Donald Trump will waltz into the White House,” Republican pollster Whit Ayres says. “On the other hand, if she has learned as much as her allies and friends say she has in the last four years, she will give Trump a real run for his money.” Harris campaign officials say they remain focused on the seven key battleground states—Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. With Harris atop the ticket, those states “are even more in play for us, stronger for us than they might have been otherwise,” says Dan Kanninen, the campaign’s battleground director. Harris is more popular with younger, Black, and Latino voters than Biden was when he dropped out of the race, according to polling, which puts her in a stronger position to win the Sun Belt states. At the same time, she may be losing ground with older white voters, which makes her more vulnerable in the trio of “Blue Wall” states—Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin—that form that core of the Democrats’ Electoral College strategy. To shore up those states, Harris is leaning on her major labor endorsements and making multiple visits to the upper Midwest.

Harris inherited Biden’s campaign infrastructure, including more than 260 outposts across the battleground states. In Nevada, the Harris campaign has 13 field offices to Trump’s one; in Pennsylvania, it has 36 coordinated offices to Trump’s three, according to a campaign memo.

Time Magazine has an insightful column on the resurrection of Kamala Harris and her rising political fortunes.

Read the full story at Time Magazine.

[mariacallous]

Last week, Syrian rebels led by the Sunni Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) launched a surprise offensive, capturing significant parts of Aleppo, one of Syria’s largest cities, and advancing south into Hama province. This offensive—the most substantial territorial gain by rebel forces in nearly a decade—struck at the heart of what Russia once considered its defining achievement in Syria: the 2016 recapture of Aleppo.

In December 2016, Russian airpower, in coordination with Iranian-backed forces and the Syrian army, retook the city in an operation that demonstrated Moscow’s military effectiveness and cemented its role as the decisive external actor in Syria, overshadowing other actors such as the United States, which focused narrowly on countering the Islamic State, and Turkey, which was preoccupied with containing Kurdish forces near its border with Syria. The loss of Aleppo thus represents not just a military setback but a symbolic challenge to Russia’s claim of being able to decisively shape Syria’s future.

For Russia, the loss of regime control in Aleppo reveals deeper vulnerabilities in its Syrian strategy. The degradation of key ground forces such as Hezbollah—exacerbated by Israeli strikes against their commanders, forces, and logistics in Lebanon and Syria in recent months—and the endemic weakness of the Syrian army have created military gaps that Moscow has struggled to fill due to its primarily aerial deployment in Syria.

While Russia’s airpower in Syria remains relatively consistent with its 2018 levels, the redeployment of some ground forces in the past two years to secure strategic locations such as Tartus and Latakia has reduced its flexibility to address new threats effectively. Yet with established regional influence and significant military investments at stake, Russia cannot afford to retreat from Syria despite these mounting challenges. The naval base in Tartus secures Russia’s access to the Mediterranean, a critical geostrategic asset, while the Khmeimim air base near Latakia enables Moscow to project power across the region and maintain its role as a key player in Syria and beyond.

Russia’s response to the rebel offensive revealed significant operational constraints. When HTS first struck Aleppo, the speed and surprise of the advance left Moscow little time to organize effective air support. Though not lacking in air capacity, Russia struggled with the practical challenge of rapidly generating enough sorties to counter such a large-scale offensive. By the time rebels approached Hama, Russian forces managed to mount a more coordinated air campaign, with Russian and Syrian aircraft striking rebel positions across Hama, Aleppo, and Idlib. Russian sources claimed these strikes killed HTS leader Abu Mohammad al-Julani, though this remains unverified.

The offensive also exposed embarrassing weaknesses in the Assad regime’s defenses. At Kuweires air base near Aleppo, Syrian forces reportedly surrendered without resistance, allowing HTS to capture significant military assets. The seized equipment included a Mi-8 helicopter, an L-39 combat training aircraft, and reportedly an S-200 anti-aircraft missile system, along with Strela-10 and Pantsir-S1 air defense systems. Even more concerning was the fall of al-Safira, one of the regime’s largest military-industrial complexes and a critical defense manufacturing center.

The rebel advance toward Hama now threatens Russia’s strategic position in Syria. If HTS takes Hama, it could isolate the coastal provinces, as the city of Hama lies about 50 miles from Tartus and serves as a key junction connecting the interior to the Mediterranean coast. Meanwhile, a push to the city of Homs, roughly 75 miles from Latakia and 50 miles from Tartus, would sever the land link to Russia’s Mediterranean bases at Latakia and Tartus from its limited forces in central and eastern Syria.

This geographic separation would severely hamper Russia’s ability to coordinate operations across Syria. The situation could deteriorate further if dormant rebel cells in the south reactivate, potentially fragmenting regime territory and straining Russia’s already limited military presence. Russia maintains a presence in southern Syria, particularly in Quneitra and Daraa provinces near the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights, where it has established military police observation posts to monitor cease-fires and regional tensions.

Beyond immediate military concerns, these developments expose Moscow’s growing challenges in preserving its influence in Syria. Since initiating its military intervention in 2015, Moscow’s influence in Syria has rested on several key elements: a partnership with Iran and its network of nonstate actors; coordination with Turkey, with a view to managing competing interests, such as Turkey’s concerns over Kurdish forces and Russia’s support for the Assad regime; a tenuous balancing act with Israel to prevent unintended military clashes and preserve deconfliction agreements; diplomatic outreach to the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC); and efforts to maintain a working deconfliction mechanism with the United States.

However, each of these pillars has come under strain not only due to shifting realities in Syria but due to the spillover effects of Ukraine and Lebanon.

The Russian-Iranian partnership has been particularly critical to Russia’s objectives in Syria. This relationship was forged over shared concerns about the potential collapse of the Assad regime and the threat of Sunni extremism; it combined Russian airpower with ground forces from Iran and its allied militias. Iranian-supported groups such as Hezbollah, Iraqi Shiite militias, the Afghan Fatemiyoun, and the Pakistani Zainabiyoun were instrumental in recapturing key territories. Their joint campaign helped reclaim Aleppo in 2016, a turning point in the Syrian civil war.

Russia’s approach to Iran in Syria has shifted dramatically since its invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Moscow previously balanced between Iran and Israel, exemplified by its 2018 commitment to keep Iranian forces away from Israel’s border and its silence during Israeli strikes on Iranian assets. However, following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and especially after Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, Moscow has aligned more closely with Iran’s so-called Axis of Resistance.

Russia now openly criticizes Israeli strikes and has ceded positions in central and eastern Syria to Iranian-backed forces—ostensibly aimed at preventing rebel forces from exploiting Russia’s reduction of ground forces and private military contractors in eastern Syria.

Meanwhile, Israel has dramatically escalated its strikes against Iranian assets in Syria, moving beyond targeting weapons storage to systematically eliminating high-value personnel. The Israeli offensive in Lebanon and the decimation of Hezbollah’s leadership have particularly impacted Russia’s position in Syria. The degradation of Hezbollah, which served as Russia’s primary allied ground force in western and southern Syria, has created a significant operational gap that Russia, with its limited troop presence of approximately 2,000 to 4,000 personnel, has struggled to fill.

Recently, amid developments in Gaza and Lebanon, speculation arose that Israel might again seek Russia’s assistance in curbing Iran’s influence in Syria. However, recent events suggest that Russia lacks both the capability and, potentially, the willingness to constrain Iran. This dynamic could further strain Russia-Israel relations, which have already significantly deteriorated since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.

Meanwhile, Russia and Turkey have frequently clashed over their competing visions for Syria’s future. Their relationship hit its lowest point in 2015, when Turkish F-16s shot down a Russian Su-24 bomber near the Syrian border. Both sides eventually reconciled, but even within the Astana process—a diplomatic framework launched in 2017 by Iran, Russia, and Turkey to facilitate negotiations on the Syrian conflict and de-escalation zones—they have pursued conflicting aims: Russia supports the Assad regime’s full territorial control, while Turkey backs opposition forces and maintains a military presence in northern Syria to prevent Kurdish autonomy there.

Since the start of its war in Ukraine, Russia has sought to maintain close relations with Turkey, a NATO member and critical trade partner for Moscow. This effort, coupled with Russia’s diminished resources across various regions, has positioned Ankara in a place of relative advantage. This dynamic is particularly evident in the South Caucasus, where Turkey, through its support for Azerbaijan against Armenia, has assumed a more active role in shaping regional dynamics.

The resurgence of HTS and Turkish-backed rebels will likely force Russia to reach new understandings with Turkey in Syria. While Moscow previously criticized Ankara sharply over rebel activities in Idlib, Russia’s current military constraints and need to maintain Turkish cooperation amid the Ukraine war—specifically for critical trade routes, access through the Bosporus for its naval operations, and to discourage Turkey from supplying Ukraine with advanced arms—have tempered its response.

Instead of denouncing Turkey for failing to control HTS, Russian officials have emphasized the Astana format as a mechanism for stability, suggesting that Moscow seeks accommodation rather than confrontation with Ankara.

Russia has promoted the normalization and reintegration of the Assad regime into the Arab world. These efforts culminated in Syria’s return to the Arab League in May 2023, as the GCC sought to acknowledge the reality of the regime’s control over much of Syria while reengaging with Damascus as a way to balance Iran’s influence. Russia’s objective has been to tap into Gulf financial resources for Syria’s reconstruction and economic recovery while enhancing the Assad regime’s international legitimacy.

An indication of this normalization was on display following the HTS offensive when Bashar al-Assad held a call with Emirati President Mohamed bin Zayed, who affirmed Emirati support for Syrian “sovereignty.” Nevertheless, the ongoing threats posed by armed opposition groups underline that normalization with Arab countries, while diplomatically beneficial, has little tangible impact on stabilizing the situation on the ground.

Moscow’s strategy in Syria going forward likely will involve a pragmatic adaptation rather than a withdrawal or a complete overhaul. This may require Russia to reconcile with the reality that its reduced military influence demands greater flexibility with regional powers.

The return of Donald Trump to the White House adds another layer of complexity to Russia’s calculations. A second Trump presidency might seek a grand bargain with Moscow, potentially offering a deal on Ukraine—such as freezing military aid or even recognizing Moscow’s territorial claims—in exchange for Russia helping to reduce Iran’s presence in Syria and facilitate a U.S. withdrawal from the region.

However, such a deal faces significant obstacles. Russia’s increased dependence on Iranian military support, both in Ukraine and Syria, makes Moscow unlikely to risk this crucial partnership. Moreover, Russia’s diminished leverage in Syria raises questions about its ability to deliver on any promises regarding Iranian influence, even if it wanted to.

Syria’s future trajectory will likely create new complications. Israel, faced with Russia’s inability or unwillingness to constrain Iran in Syria, may intensify its unilateral strikes against Iranian assets. Turkey may push for greater influence in the north, leveraging Russia’s need for cooperation to expand its sphere of control.

These dynamics suggest Syria is increasingly being divided into spheres of influence, with Russia focused primarily on securing its core interests along the Mediterranean coast. Though Russia is unlikely to move ground forces from Ukraine, any threat to its assets in Tartus and Latakia would likely see a redeployment of private military contractors or attempts to curry favor with Iran in hopes of ground reinforcements.

Rather than reevaluating its commitment to the Assad regime, Moscow appears determined to preserve its Syrian presence by recalibrating its methods.

[adore-laur]

CLOUD NINE

— a swoonworthy sequel to pink velvet 💍

——

Lake Como is an area with timeless appeal that seizes the eyes of every wanderer roaming the enticing paradise of solitude. Rolling vineyards weave throughout the countryside, with snow-capped mountains rising above the clouds. Romanesque cathedrals and theaters overlook the grand lake, beautifully shaped by glacial movements. Opulent gardens of cascading wisteria and olive groves blossom across the region, decorating the premises of historical villas and estates. 

It's bliss for the second time. 

It also happens to be one of the most desired places in Italy for wedding venues, which is why you're currently driving through the captivating village of Bellagio with Harry the evening before the big day. A year has passed since you were in Salerno together for your third anniversary. A year since he proposed on the secluded beach he rented out for you, bent down on one knee with shaky hands holding a pink velvet ring box that encapsulated evermore. 

Now you're back and ready to marry the man who has one hand on the steering wheel of the vintage car and the other resting on your thigh.

Bellagio, which juts into Lake Como, greets you with cobblestone streets hugged by dainty shops and restaurants. Stucco and terracotta houses painted with pastel colors sit with their wooden shutters open, plants on their balconies, and ivy climbing their walls. Everything is perfectly placed and flourishing under the European sky. 

A boat launch is where both of you are headed since the sun will be setting soon, and being on the lake is where tourists say it is the most idyllic place to admire. You're going to rent a private speedboat for two hours to wind down and spend time together on the alpine waters before being the center of attention tomorrow. 

The narrow backroads lead to the pier, where many boats are docked. Harry has brought a comically large backpack filled with various snacks, books, and other items to keep busy while on the lake. He's currently humming along to a solemn Italian waltz statically playing through the car's antique radio speakers. His hair whips in the wind, and golden hour light dances across his face.

"I know you're looking at me," he says, gently squeezing your thigh. 

You snap out of your trance and lean over the console to kiss his dimple. "You're just really... bello? Is that how you say pretty?" 

His cheeks flush an endearing shade of pink. "Bello, yeah," he murmurs with a shy smile. "Thank you, baby." 

After another few peaceful minutes of driving, Harry pulls into a parking lot by the docks. The piers bob in the shallow water. The lake is even more stunning up close, with delicate ripples and a mountainous backdrop that resembles a contemporary impressionist painting. 

As you gaze upon the elegant villas sitting along the coastal cliffs, the passenger door swings open, a gentlemen-like gesture Harry always makes, no matter how many times you've told him you're entirely capable. You sling your tote bag over your shoulder and pick up Harry's backpack, which is crammed in the space behind the seats. You hand it to him and then interlock your fingers with his before walking to the launch. Luxurious boats rock in the water; their exteriors are glossy and classic, and their interiors are more modern with white leather seats. 

"Ciao, siamo qui per il noleggio di due ore," Harry greets the group of men standing on the pier with cigars poking from their lips.

They all smile and wave the both of you over. Harry initiates a foreign conversation with them that you can't understand, save for a few fleeting words. Eventually, one of them claps their hands together and leads you to a speed boat. As the other men remove the ropes that secure it, Harry reaches his hand out to help you step on. He then guides you to the driver's seat, sitting down and settling you on his lap as he sticks the key into the ignition.

"Ready, cipollino?" he asks, recalling the nickname he gave you last year while tipsy under a streetlight. His hand rests on the curve of your back as the engine rumbles to life. 

"Yeah," you reply with an eager nod. "And stop calling me that!"

"What should I call you, then?" 

"Your wife." 

"Not yet, darling." He kisses your neck and then looks behind him, giving the men a thumbs-up.

They return his gesture, and he doesn't waste any more time as he pushes the throttle forward, making the boat lurch. With your legs draped over his, the village becomes farther away. Sailboats and ferries float on the water, and Italian flags are proudly attached to them. 

The speed creates swells of water that refreshingly spray your skin as you lean your cheek against the top of Harry's head. He steers with one hand as the other reaches down to unzip his backpack. He sifts through the belongings, eventually taking out a container of mixed cheese cubes he bought a couple of days ago when he went shopping at a local food market. 

"Close your eyes and guess," he says over the gusty breeze, hiding the container behind his back. 

You close them and open your mouth so he can feed you. You hear him snap the container's top off and then feel a cheese cube on your tongue. You chew it, humming thoughtfully while you figure out the distinct flavor. 

"Provolone. That's too easy," you say after swallowing. "Give me another one." 

A second piece is given; this time, it's a uniquely rich flavor you've never tasted. You decide to just guess fancy names you've heard in passing. "Um, mascarpone? No, wait. Gorgonzola?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I have no bloody clue what it is." You laugh and open your eyes, but Harry quickly covers them with his large hand. "One more," he murmurs cutely. 

Parting your lips again, you wait for another piece of unknown cheese. However, a pair of soft lips capture your mouth instead. You feel Harry smirk against it, causing you to tilt your head with a bright smile. 

"Was that too cheesy?" he asks, playfully tickling your ribs before cutting the engine so the boat can drift. "Eh? Get it?" 

You drape your arms over his broad shoulders. "How long have you been waiting to say that?"

He scoffs under his breath. "What do you mean? I come up with these killer jokes on the spot." 

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, calling his bluff. "Tell me another one." 

Harry pouts his lips and thinks. "Let's see. Give me a second; I have loads of good ones." You giggle into his neck as he struggles. "Okay, I've got it. Why does water never laugh at jokes?" 

"I don't know. Why?" 

He cradles your head and whispers in your ear, "It isn't a fan of dry humor." 

You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. "That was terrible." 

He pretends to throw you overboard, leaving you squealing and holding on tight to his shirt. "Sii gentile."

The following two hours are spent cruising around the lake, pointing out extravagant architecture, and reading the several translated Italian romance novels you bought from an independent bookstore. The mountains are hazy due to the clouds drifting past the jagged crests. The faraway sounds of ferry horns and coos from the wading birds provide a serene atmosphere. You don't plan to remove yourself from Harry's lap anytime soon since his calm breathing and affectionate kisses against your skin make you fall into a blissful reverie. 

It doesn't feel like the wedding is tomorrow. The reality hasn't quite hit you yet; you've always felt like it's been some unreachable day that won't ever happen. But now you sense the forthcoming nerves and anticipation somewhere deep in your bones. 

There's only one more sunrise until he's eternally yours. 

Once the sun has plunged below the horizon and left a blended tangerine and turquoise sky in its wake, Harry lets you take control of the steering wheel to drive the boat back to the docks. You successfully maneuver it between two narrow piers. The men that previously helped get up from their chairs and come over with rope. Harry takes the key out of the ignition, puts his backpack on, and then grabs your hand and ushers you to land. 

"Grazie per la vostra generosità," he tells them with a hand on his heart. "Buonanotte." 

"Sei il benvenuto," replies one of the men with a kind bow. "Guidare sicuri."

The both of you smile and walk to the parking lot, getting back in the car.

"That was so relaxing," you say as you slightly recline the seat and sigh happily.

"Mm-hmm." Harry rubs his full stomach and yawns. "I'm definitely going to sleep like a baby tonight." 

"Really? I think I'll be up all night with anxiety." 

"Why? Getting cold feet already?" 

"No, just nerves," you say. "It's a life-changing event we've been planning for so long." 

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as he starts driving. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty confident I made the right choice in marrying you." 

"I'm not doubting that. I just—" 

"I know, love," he interrupts softly. "I'll probably be a jittery mess tomorrow if it makes you feel any better." 

You give him a reassuring glance before closing your eyes while he takes the backroads that lead to the villa. The windows are rolled down, warm air envelops your face, and the smell of bread makes you hungry again. Harry will often read the random names of restaurants and shops that he passes or quietly hiccup from all the food he ate earlier. 

Just as everything becomes background noise, you suddenly feel the car slow down and jerk to a stop. You open your eyes and see that you're on a flat bridge made of gray cobblestone that connects the downtown area to a dirt path lined with cottages. You look over at Harry and find him staring at you with an indecipherable expression, his mouth downturned, and his eyes dancing between yours. 

"I think there's something wrong with the car," he says. 

"What?" 

"It just stopped." He scratches his jaw and sighs. I'm pressing on the gas, but it's not moving." 

You blink in confusion. "The car is in park, Harry. 

"No, I think the car just broke down. Stay here. Let me check under the hood." 

"Just put it in drive. Nothing's wrong with it." 

Harry ignores you and opens the door, getting out and slowly walking to the front. His hands place themselves on his hips as he bends his knees and studies the car, like he knows what he's doing. He definitely does not. 

"Hey!" he calls out, pointing a finger somewhere next to you. "It's a little chilly out. Do you mind grabbing my suit jacket from under my seat?" 

Suit jacket? What is he talking about? You turn your head and reach under the driver's seat to blindly grab the jacket he apparently brought along. You feel a soft material against your fingertips, and you pick it up and set it on your lap. Sure enough, it's a suit jacket that's neatly folded and the color of a robin's egg. You've never seen it before, and you don't know when he could have possibly bought it since you've been inseparable since arriving in Italy. 

You hold it up, and Harry grins, shuffling over to the passenger window. You notice that the stripes on his button-up perfectly match the jacket. Interesting.

"Grazie," he says nonchalantly, taking it from you and putting it on. "Fits like a glove. Speaking of..." 

You cross your arms over the window and rest your chin on them. "You're acting really suspicious right now, and I suggest you tell me what's going on before I cancel the wedding." 

Harry simply laughs and heads over to the hood. You watch as he reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a pair of white gloves made of lace. 

Now you're concerned. 

He gazes up at you from under his eyelashes and smirks, putting on the gloves like he's about to perform surgery. "What?" he asks while straightening his collar. "I don't want to get my hands dirty." 

You shake your head in disbelief. "Where did you even get those?" 

He ignores you once again and pulls out his phone. He types something briefly and then holds it against his ear. "Towing company," he mouths to you, pointing at his phone with a wink. 

You're speechless as you sit in the car, wondering what he mysteriously has up his sleeve. You're not stupid; there's obviously something going on because the car clearly has not broken down, and he's calling a towing company for some reason. 

During the short conversation, you listen to him speak Italian in a low murmur, and before you know it, he's hanging up and strolling toward the metal railing of the bridge. He puts his hands in his pockets and paces back and forth, looking up at the peach-colored sky and then out at the sapphire-blue water. 

As you're about to step out and join whatever he's doing, you hear distant music start playing. You look out the window and see a group of people walking in your direction, all holding instruments such as mandolins, horns, and accordions. Harry is also walking your way in your peripheral vision, a cheeky expression on his face. 

You don't know where to look, but your ears recognize the familiar tune of "That's Amore" by Dean Martin when the group starts singing. Harry quickly rounds to the front of the car and does a clumsy spin, then leans his body and elbow on the hood, lifting one foot up as he begins mouthing along to the lyrics with a satisfied smile. 

"Dance with me, amante."

You release a shocked laugh and join him. "Did you plan all this?" 

He daintily sticks out his gloved hand for you to take. "I might have researched Italian wedding traditions a while ago. One of them involves serenading the bride from outside her window, but... I put my own twist on it, I guess. The car didn't actually break down." 

You hum against his chest as he begins swaying you. "Yeah, I caught onto that pretty quickly." 

"I'm a shit liar," he mumbles into your hair, giving you a twirl. "Anyway, the bride is supposed to lower down a basket of bread, cheese, and prosciutto to accept the marriage." His hand leaves your waist to dig into his pocket. "And my darling, I just happen to have some leftover cheese cubes. Would you be so kind as to do the honors?" 

He pulls out a small bag with only three pieces of cheese left. He takes one out and holds it gently between his fingertips. You take it and dramatically clear your throat. "Harry Styles, I accept this marriage. I cannot wait until tomorrow." 

Grabbing your wrist, he pops the cheese into his mouth, grinning widely as he chews. "I accept your acceptance." 

You continue slow dancing on the bridge as the song crescendos, the singers happily crooning the love-filled lyrics while you're pressed close to Harry. 

Tomorrow can't come soon enough. 

——

White silk with a subtle hue of lavender feels cool against your skin, the thin fabric of your dress lightly blowing in the breeze. 

Harry is right around the corner, probably fidgeting with his fingers behind his back, toeing the ground, and ensuring his outfit is wrinkle-free. You can almost feel his energy, along with the collection of yours and Harry's close family and friends who flew out for the wedding. You hear them distantly chatter as they wait for your arrival. 

Deep breaths are the only kind you've been taking all day, and you're surprised the pendant of your necklace isn't shaking from how hard and fast your heart is pounding. You haven't seen Harry since you fell asleep next to him last night, knowing he planned to sneakily slip out of the villa to get ready with his groomsmen early in the morning. 

It's evening, so a golden tint casts over everything. The private ceremony occurs outside the lakeside courtyard, surrounded by lush gardens and pathways shaded by trees. The white aisle is rolled out, and a tall, flowered arch can be seen from where you stand behind the trimmed hedges. Stone statues guard the premises, some with moss and chipped bodies. 

As you focus on a yellow butterfly that lands on a blade of grass, you suddenly hear the ceremonial music begin playing. Someone behind you squeezes your shoulders and gently pushes you, whispering encouraging words in your ear. You're too distracted by the movement of your dress to comprehend them as you begin walking down the aisle. 

Watch your step. 

One foot in front of the other. 

Don't trip. 

Yet when you finally turn the corner, keeping your eyes on the ground is impossible. It's as if everything happens in slow motion. You hear excited gasps and violins in your ears, but your eyes are your strongest sense at the moment. They naturally gravitate upward to find Harry. He's wearing all silk, just like the both of you planned, along with the same hue of lavender threaded into the fabric. Silk trousers with a silk dress shirt tucked into them and white suspenders. A couple buttons are undone. 

He's so stupidly handsome.

Once your gaze meets his, matching smiles of pure love take over both of your faces. His is a dimpled one that leaves you breathless, and yours is a gentle one that makes his tears spill over. 

You see him roll his trembling lips in, looking down with a soft laugh and a sniffle. When you reach him, you accept his bouquet of flowers and stand face-to-face with him for the first time today.

"You look gorgeous," he whispers while shaking his head in awe.

"You look pretty," you whisper back. 

He bites the inside of his cheek and glances down at your lips. "I want to kiss you, but I can't."

You laugh and look at the officiant when he raises his hands. "Welcome, everyone," he says. You may be seated." 

Everyone sits, and you exhale a long breath. You feel Harry squeeze your hands as the officiant drones on about the joining of the couple and what lifelong commitment means. You're not listening; you're too lost in Harry's teary eyes as they roam your face and dress. 

"Is the bride ready to say her vows?" 

You snap your head to the side and nod, a little embarrassed that you zoned out during what were probably important and sentimental words. 

You release Harry's hands and take the folded note from your bra, making the crowd laugh. Harry rolls his eyes with a smirk. As you smooth the paper's creases, you feel your throat bob with emotion, thinking about how you poured every bit of your soul into the inked words you wrote for him. 

Inhaling deeply, you swallow the lump in your throat. "Harry," you say with a tender squeeze of his sweaty hand, "you are someone who I believe comes into people's lives with a purpose. You came into mine when I wasn't looking for love, but you swept me off my feet with your kindness and attentive nature. I'm so in love with you, truly. When your eyes crinkle with laughter or when you remember intricate details about me. I even love the annoying things, like how you really love peas or how you have to turn the radio down when the roads are busy so you can concentrate. Everything you do and say is beautiful. Your presence is graceful and warm. I'm so thankful I get to be around it for the rest of my life. I love you and promise to do so through every moment, whether rain or shine. Ti amo." 

When you finish, your cheeks are damp with tears as the crowd claps. Harry looks past you, quickly wiping under his eyes. 

"And would the groom like to say his vows?" asks the officiant. 

"Yeah, one second," Harry says as he tilts his head and blinks back tears. He looks back down and takes his vows out of his sock. 

"Ew," you say.

"Shush," he says with a smirk. "Okay, um... I'm going to try to get through this without completely losing it." He clears his throat. "So, I wrote this last night when you were sleeping. I wasn't procrastinating; I just wanted to write it when my emotions were high." 

He unfolds the paper and straightens his posture. "I love you so much. You know it. Everyone knows it. You've had me whipped since I met you, and I swear it's only gotten worse over the years. I told you when I proposed that I was weak for you. Well, I still am. Always will be. Because I hang onto every word you speak, and my heart beats like a madman every time you look at me. The tremendous love you give me is something I don't deserve. It keeps me going, and the fact that I get to feel it for a lifetime makes me the happiest man in the world. Ti amo forever." 

You let out a soft sob and dab under your eyes with your knuckle so your makeup doesn't smear. You secretly give Harry the middle finger for making you cry, and he gives one back, making your family and friends cackle. 

"Now for the rings." The officiant hands both of you your designated bands and then looks at you first. "Does the bride take the groom to be her lawfully wedded husband?" 

You slide the gold band onto Harry's ring finger, his hand shaking. "Lo voglio." 

He seems surprised by your unexpected Italian, raising his eyebrows.

"And does the groom take the bride as his lawfully wedded wife?" 

Harry slides your ring on. "Lo voglio," he repeats confidently. 

"Then it is my delight and honor to now pronounce you husband and wife," concludes the officiant. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Styles!" 

Everyone stands and cheers, hollering in celebration. Harry spreads his arms and pumps his fists with a wide smile. 

"Can I kiss him?" you ask impatiently. 

The officiant laughs and nods. "Yes, you may kiss the groom." 

You immediately grab Harry's cheeks and slot your mouth over his, feeling his arms tightly wrap around your waist as he dips you toward the ground. The crowd whoops, and camera shutters click, capturing the official moment.

"Mrs. Styles," Harry murmurs against your lips, kissing them repeatedly until they ache. 

You grab his hand and walk down the aisle together, waving and smiling at your families as they throw white flower petals in your path. There's a green convertible parked at the end, a getaway car of sorts, for you and Harry to take to the reception. It has a wreath hung across the trunk and bottles of alcohol and bread in a basket on the console. Harry opens the door for you as family and friends gather around, taking pictures and chatting with one another. 

"Wait, we have to change into our outfits before we get there," you say abruptly as he begins slowly driving away. "We didn't think this through." 

When you and Harry were planning the wedding, you agreed that you should both change into comfortable party outfits for the reception so it would be easier to move around and dance. Outfits the others hadn't seen yet were picked out and secretly packed in separate suitcases. 

You took a risk with yours, to say the least. 

"No," he gasps dramatically. "What are we possibly going to do? Bloody hell, we'll have to change in the woods!" 

You smack his arm. "Shut up, I'm serious! I've been waiting all year to show you my outfit. We have to stop somewhere." 

"Love, we can just change in the bathrooms once we get there." 

"Fine. Hurry up, though. I'm excited." 

He rolls his eyes and presses on the gas pedal harder. 

After about ten minutes, you arrive at the outdoor reception area, which has circular tables and chairs on the lawn with a dance floor in the middle. String lights decorate the low-hanging trees, and some people are already gathered with flutes of champagne and plates of appetizers in their hands. 

Harry parks the car and grabs your suitcases, sneakily going around the back of the old-fashioned estate that the venue is a part of. A security guard, wearing sunglasses and an earpiece, stands straight as a pin in front of the fancy double doors. 

"Excuse me, sir," Harry says, never letting go of your hand. "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

He clears his throat and looks him up and down suspiciously. "Take the first left. The door is the fourth one on your right." 

"Thank you!" you call out from behind, since Harry is already dragging you down the porcelain hallway. 

Once you reach the bathrooms, Harry enters one stall while you go into the other. You're both breathing heavily and giggling as you unclasp your suitcases and pull out your outfits.

Yours is a rose gold mesh bodycon dress decorated with rhinestones that came with long, matching gloves. Your beige underwear and bra will be visible under it, but that's the intended purpose. You also bought a faux fur boa scarf to hook around your elbows. You unzip your wedding dress and slip on the other one, then walk out of the stall with your empty suitcase. 

Harry walks out a minute later, and your knees weaken. He's wearing a suit jacket and trousers with no shirt underneath. What's even more incredible is that the color of the sequined material is almost the exact shade of what you're wearing.

"Shut up," Harry says with a laugh of disbelief. "No way we picked the same color." 

All you can respond with is, "Your tits are out."

He looks down at them. "Yeah... I suppose they are." 

"You look so hot." 

"So do you." He runs his hands from your waist down to your ass. "You look dazzling, Mrs. fuckin' Styles." 

"Don't start anything," you warn, gripping the lapels of his suit. "We need to say hello to everyone." 

He smirks. "It's crazy that we thought of the same color. I was going to buy a white vest and matching pants, but something told me to get this instead." 

"That just means you have good fashion intuition." 

"No, I think it means we're soulmates." 

You kiss him. "That, too. C'mon, let's go before people get bored." 

The reception commences, and hugs and well wishes are all around as you and Harry wander the lawn hand in hand. The weather is perfect, and the sun isn't too sweltering because of the breeze from the nearby lake. 

Hours pass, the moon is out, and string lights twinkle around the venue. The dance floor has been open for a while, and everyone is a little tipsy and sweaty as they dance with each other. You've already done the first dance with Harry, swaying to "Moonlight Serenade" by Frank Sinatra as he whispered sweet nothings with his forehead pressed against yours. 

After another slow song ends and couples find other people to dance with, "Careless Whisper" starts playing. Harry screeches in your face while shaking your shoulders. 

When the bridge plays, he gets down on his knees before you and belts the lyrics, his hair falling in his face as his outfit shimmers from the strobe lights. You put the fur boa around his neck and pull him closer. His hands run up the length of your legs, eventually reaching your hands as you help him. 

"My pants just ripped!" he yells over the music. 

"Seriously?!" you yell back with wide eyes.

He tilts his head back and laughs with his hands resting on his exposed stomach. You immediately spot the small, ripped seam on his right thigh and begin laughing along with him. It's not even that funny, but cloud nine lifts you too high to care. 

The party goes on, and people slowly leave as midnight nears. Soon enough, it's just you and Harry left as the music volume lowers and the chairs start being put away. You eventually stumble with flushed cheeks and giddy smiles to the sleek black limo waiting at the front of the estate. 

"Where am I taking the happy couple?" asks the driver.

"Villa Balbiano, please," Harry replies. "And turn the music up loud, yeah? Apologies in advance." 

The both of you clamber into the back of the limo, immediately putting the partition up. You straddle Harry's parted thighs as he begins massaging your breasts. "Take your bra off. Let me see your tits under this dress." 

You unclip your bra, sliding it off and tossing it to the side. Harry kneads your ass and tilts his head back against the headrest, the veins in his perspiring neck becoming noticeable. 

"I'm so gone for you," he says, biting your thumb as if restraining himself from doing a more provocative act. 

"That's sweet." You climb off his lap and sit beside him, putting your seatbelt on. "But you'll have to wait." 

His jaw clenches in annoyance, and you grin. You love giving him whiplash. 

The ride to the villa is short but filled with tension. Harry broodingly looks out the window when the driver pulls into the gravel driveway, his right hand gripping the edge of the seat, his thighs tense.

Once the car is parked, Harry kindly squeezes the driver's shoulder, opens the door, and gets out. In an instant, your door is opened, and you're suddenly scooped up and thrown over Harry's shoulder as he walks up the driveway toward the arched doors. He navigates through the spacious rooms and up the grand staircase in complete silence. 

You know what you're in for. 

Harry tosses you on the king-size bed and crawls over you, placing his forearms on either side of your body. His cross necklace dangles over you, which is ironic considering how he's looking at you right now. 

"Gonna let me fuck my wife, or do I have to wait for that too?" he asks lowly, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your breasts and keeping eye contact with you. 

You bite your lip and slide the straps of your dress down, quickly slipping it off. Harry then grabs your wrist and uses his teeth to take one of your gloves, biting the fabric at the top of your fingertips. They're long and tight, so he struggles, huffing and closing his eyes in disappointment. 

"This is supposed to be sexy. Stop making fun of me," Harry says with a defeated laugh, taking the route of just yanking them off and throwing them on the floor. 

"I didn't say anything," you say, covering your mouth so you don't let a laugh escape. "And those are really expensive, Harry!" 

He just shushes you and takes your underwear off. He then buries his face into your inner thigh as you spread your legs open. You're already wet; your warm arousal is sticking to your skin. He laps some of it up and rumbles a groan. 

"Will you let your husband take care of you tonight? Hmm? Tell me." 

"God, Harry." You whine when his nose nudges your aching clit. "Yes. Please." 

"So polite for me." He teasingly licks the inside of you with one stroke of his tongue, but it's not enough. "Such a good girl that was dressed like a filthy slut tonight." 

"Says you," you reply breathlessly. "You had your tits out all night while you danced with my grandma." 

Harry hums a laugh and pushes his nose forward, making you wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back on the bed. He lets out a long moan, beginning to unapologetically lick every last slick drop of arousal that seems to keep pouring out. His hands grip your thighs so tight that you're positive there will be bruises left from his rings. 

His quiet moans and suckling are muffled by his face pressed right up against your pussy, his hair tickling the bottom of your stomach as his head tilts with each new angle he tries. Your mouth is parted open, and desperate whimpers leave it as your hands tug at his curls. 

You know he won't use his fingers; he's always keen on making you come with just one method. You feel dizzy from the tingling sensation in your thighs and core; your orgasm is knotting with a deep ache. 

"I'm going to come," you tell him, digging your heel into his back. "Harry, I'm going... I feel it. I can't hold it."

What he does next is heaven. Without moving his head or stopping his tongue, he lifts his hand and presses his large palm down on your lower stomach, massaging it in small circles to help coax the swelling pleasure out. Just as you feel as though you're about to burst, he removes his tongue and lifts his head. 

"No, no, no," you say, jerking your hips up. 

"Hey, look at me," Harry demands, his lips swollen and glistening. "What's wrong? Am I being mean?" 

"I hate you." 

"That's no way to talk to your husband, now is it?" He unbuttons his trousers and takes them off, along with his boxers. "What makes you think I'm not going to stuff you full right now with my cock? Or is that not what you want?" 

You catch your breath and swallow, your throat feeling terribly dry. "No, I want it. I do."

Harry squeezes his throbbing cock and hovers over you with one hand placed next to your head, his arm bulging and sheening with sweat. It isn't going to take long for you to come undone. 

"Yeah?" He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. "You like it when I'm that deep inside you?" he asks, tearing the package open. 

"It's my favorite part." 

He rolls the condom on and kisses your knee. "Is that what you want?" His voice is now soft as he strokes strands of hair from your face. "You want me to be nice and give you what you want?" 

"I know you like it too," you whisper. "Don't even try to lie." 

He smirks while running his tongue across his teeth. "And how would you know that?" 

"Because you always put your hand right here"—you grab his hand and gently place it below your navel—"to feel it. Your eyes roll back every time. I love it." 

His nostrils flare. "You love watching me? How did I not know this about my wife?" 

"You're too fucking gone for me to notice," you say, repeating his words from earlier. 

He nearly growls, lining himself up with your entrance before thrusting in with no warning. You gasp, holding onto his shoulders as he rocks inside of you, his cock burning past your walls. The headboard hits the wall with each of his powerful thrusts, and you moan pitifully when he goes long and deep. One of his hands holds onto the top of the headboard, and the other holds your limp hand on the sheets. 

"So tight," Harry breathes out. "How do you fit all of me, huh? You're so tight and pretty." 

Your legs ache as they bend from the force he pounds into you. He sloppily kisses your lips, his teeth knocking against yours and pleading moans escaping into your mouth. His scruff rubs against your face as he continues thrusting faster and faster until the knot forms again, this time stronger than before. You can feel him in the pit of your stomach, leaving you breathless and crazed when his abs move against the slight bulge that forms there. 

"There we go," he praises. "That's it, baby. Is that what you needed?" 

After another couple of thrusts and encouragements from him, you arch and release while gripping his hand and looking into his eyes. Harry comes at the same time, rutting his hips into yours as he shudders with a deep, guttural moan against your neck. 

He hums, pulling out and cradling your cheeks. "You good?" 

You nod, watching him quickly discard the condom and flop on top of your heaving body. Everything feels hot: the sweat dripping down your hairline and Harry's skin sticking to yours. 

"Thank you," you say hoarsely. 

"For what, giving you an orgasm?" he asks with a laugh. 

"For everything," you reply, running your fingers through his damp hair. "I always feel like I'm floating around you." 

"I'm your cloud." 

"That oddly makes sense. How do you say that in Italian?"

He starts giggling into your chest, dimples carving his flushed cheeks. "Nube." 

You scoff. "Did you just call me a noob?" 

His head whips up as he says, "No. Nube means cloud in Italian." 

"Nube… that's funny." The both of you start silently laughing at each other, slowly coming down from the high. 

"Shit." Harry exhales. "Someone left us some wine." 

You turn your head to where he's looking and see a wine bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag on the dresser. There's also a little note attached to it. 

Harry gets out of bed and walks over to it with his ass on full display, making you start giggling again. He grabs the wine and gets under the sheets, weaving his legs with yours. 

You take it from him, popping the cork and raising the bottle. "Cheers to us. Ti amo forever, nube." 

He grabs your hand and kisses the ring on your finger. "Ti amo, Mrs. Styles." 

You take a swig, letting the crisp sweetness coat your throat before Harry has some. 

You've come to realize that bliss can be tangible. Silk sheets and red wine. Heated skin and purposeful touches. Soft eyes and kisses just because. If you could, you would bottle this moment up to drink, letting the liquified love permanently stain your soul. 

——

[allthegeopolitics]

Hamas chief, Ismail Haniyeh, said Wednesday (Jun 5) his group will deal “positively” with any deal that ends the Israeli war on the Gaza Strip, Anadolu Agency reports. “Hamas and the Resistance factions will deal seriously and positively with any agreement based on a full cessation of the aggression, complete withdrawal and exchange of prisoners,” he said in a statement. On Friday, US President Joe Biden said Israel presented a three-phase deal that would end hostilities in Gaza and secure the release of hostages held in the coastal enclave. The plan includes a ceasefire, a hostage-prisoner exchange and reconstruction of Gaza. Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, however, said Monday that he was “not ready to stop” the war on Gaza, claiming that Biden’s remarks about the ceasefire proposal were “inaccurate”.

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[whencyclopedia]

Juno Beach

Juno Beach was attacked primarily by forces of the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division as part of the Allied D-Day Normandy landings of 6 June 1944. The Canadian troops initially suffered heavy casualties since aerial and naval bombardments had failed to knock out the heavy guns of the German defensive positions, but by the close of D-Day, the beachhead was secured and deeper than at any other point of the invasion.

Operation Overlord

The amphibious assault on the beaches of Normandy was the first stage of Operation Overlord, which sought to free Western Europe from occupation by Nazi Germany. The supreme commander of the Allied invasion force was General Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969), who had been in charge of the Allied operations in the Mediterranean. The commander-in-chief of the Normandy land forces, 39 divisions in all, was the experienced General Bernard Montgomery (1887-1976). Commanding the air element was Air Chief Marshal Trafford Leigh Mallory (1892-1944) with the naval element commanded by Admiral Bertram Ramsay (1883-1945).

Nazi Germany had long prepared for an Allied invasion, but the German high command was unsure where exactly such an invasion would take place. Allied diversionary strategies added to the uncertainty, but the most likely places remained either the Pas de Calais, the closest point to British shores, or Normandy with its wide flat beaches. The Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (1889-1945) attempted to fortify the entire coast from Spain to the Netherlands with a series of bunkers, pillboxes, artillery batteries, and troops, but this Atlantic Wall, as he called it, was far from being complete in the summer of 1944. In addition, the wall was thin since there was no real depth to any of the defences.

Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt (1875-1953), commander-in-chief of the German army in the West, believed it would be impossible to stop an invasion on the coast and so it would be better to hold the bulk of the defensive forces as a mobile reserve to counter-attack against enemy beachheads.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel (1891-1944), commander of Army Group B, disagreed with Rundstedt and considered it essential to halt any invasion on the beaches themselves. Further, Rommel believed that Allied air superiority meant that movements of reserves would be severely hampered. Hitler agreed with Rommel, and so the defenders were strung out wherever the fortifications were at their weakest. Rommel improved the static defences and added steel anti-tank structures to all the larger beaches. In the end, Rundstedt was given a mobile reserve, but the compromise weakened both plans of defence. The German response would not be helped either by their confused command structure, which meant that Rundstedt could not call on any armour (but Rommel, who reported directly to Hitler, could), and neither commander had any control over the paltry naval and air forces available or the separately controlled coastal batteries. Nevertheless, the defences were bulked up around Normandy to an impressive 31 infantry divisions plus 10 armoured divisions and 7 reserve infantry divisions. The German army had another 13 divisions in other areas of France. A standard German division had a full strength of 15,000 men.

Continue reading...

[kelliealtogether]

I'm hoping to have one last fic typed up, edited, and posted by the end of 2024, but as the year is winding down, I figured I'd post a wrap-up of the works I've completed this year. So here they are, from longest to shortest. 😌

In Comes the Tide - 45k - Rated T

Performing a simple, polite gesture should not result in a marriage, but—Adam Parrish learned—this did not apply to selkies. The summer before his senior year at Harvard, Adam returns to the same small coastal town where he's spent the past two summers. Bussing tables isn't what he wants to do with his life, but the dockside seafood shack where he works is popular, and the tips the employees split pad his bank account enough to afford a more leisurely fall when he gets back to Cambridge. Little does Adam know he's in for a very surprising summer when a selkie shows up at The Sea Shanty and Adam saves his coat...

While There's Breath in My Body - 11k - Rated E

Adam Parrish had lived in Port Royal for twenty years. He’d been around ships for almost two thirds of his life. In all that time, only one ship ever raised the hair on his arms each time it came to port, and it was not the ship itself, but the man who stood at its helm. A skirmish could put a ship’s fate in someone else’s hands. A storm or a cannon ball could put it at the bottom of the sea. A rampant illness could leave it crewless and adrift, waiting for the next enterprising group of sailors to come on board. But a particular flag, a particular captain… Those raised Adam’s hair far more than any combination of masts, sails, and anchors ever would.

A Pirate AU

Hello, I'm in Delaware - 7k - Rated G

Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fed?” “I am a fed.” “And it’s disgusting how much you don’t hide it.” Adam Parrish travels the country covering up sightings of dreamt cryptids. When he gets called to Delaware to investigate a creature caught on home security footage, he asks for some help from a dreamer. His fiancé, Ronan Lynch.

The Magician Entertainment - 5k - Rated G

When Adam Parrish reveals he knows sleight of hand at a company team building event, he doesn't realize how big of a mistake he's made until one of his colleagues corners him a few days later in the office kitchen. The entertainment Declan Lynch hired for his daughter's birthday party bailed, and Declan has ideas about who can fill that void: Adam. Adam agrees — simply because Declan offers him the easiest $500 Adam will ever earn — though Adam's not happy about it. It's only when he arrives at the party that he realizes he might be able to perform some actual magic. With Declan's younger brother, Ronan.

Just Coffee - 4k - Rated G

The new barista at Fox Way Cafe was hot as shit. Or Ronan Lynch hoped he was new. That was the only reasonable excuse why the barista sucked at barista-ing and seemed to provide the fucking worst customer service known to man. The way the guy’s thin smile faltered when he asked someone how he could help them said he’d rather throw himself into an active volcano — or possibly a tiny metal pitcher of freshly steamed milk, given the setting — than take another order for a nonfat pumpkin spice peppermint patty latte with almond milk or whatever, but damn, Ronan would stand in line all day if it meant watching the new guy epically fail at providing a good customer experience. Ronan Lynch doesn't mean to become a regular at Fox Way Cafe, but when he sees the cafe's newest employee for the first time, he decides to keep going back again, and again, and again. At least until the new barista learns how to spell his name...

Rock Beats Scissors - 2k - Rated M

Really, if they wanted to keep things fair and equitable, they could have found some impartial way to make the decision. Flipping a coin. Drawing straws. Rolling a die. But being distractingly hard didn’t always allow for rational thinking, and for two eighteen-year-old boys who appreciated the more physical aspects of life, neither of them would have been willing to hit the pause button to scramble out of bed and find a quarter or an old board game. They just kept going until someone gave in, and no matter who put what where, they both ended up exceedingly happy with the results. Which worked. Until the first time neither of them wanted to give in. When Adam and Ronan can't agree on who's going to top, they solve their problem the old fashioned way: rock paper scissors.

The Singular Formula - 2k - Rated G

It was because he spent his nights on Adam’s floor awake that Ronan heard Adam talk in his sleep in the first place, and though he might not have remembered when he first heard Adam sleep talking, Ronan would never forget what Adam said. Seal off the wall. Don’t let the submarines in. When Ronan starts sleeping over at Adam's tiny apartment above St. Agnes, he learns something about Adam he hadn't known before: Adam talks in his sleep.

Safe Bet - 1k - Rated G

The guy tilted his head slightly as if to say fair, and he lifted a long, lovely hand to push a lock of dusty hair back off his forehead as he looked at Ronan. “I might be, but I hope not.” One corner of his thin lips twitched, then he said, “Because I have a proposition.” Ronan stared. Blinked. He had not anticipated his evening taking this kind of turn when he’d needed to get out of his older brother’s apartment. Ronan loved his brothers Declan and Matthew — who he’d come to stay with while he tried to make his life less directionless — but sometimes three Lynches under one roof was too much. Evenly, he said, “A proposition.” When Ronan Lynch is approached by a hot stranger at a bar, the last thing he expects is that he'll be drawn into the guy's scheme to win a bet against his coworkers.

I've got tons of pots simmering on my stove going into 2025, so here's to another year of writing about these two idiot assholes falling in love over and over again. 🥰

[sparkmender]

For the hive au, is a mostly peaceful compared to the OG lore? Is there crime and civil unrest? Whether between the courts or factions or etc

In the immediate area of Hive Iacon (and Megatron’s remaining Swarm loyalists who have come to stay), conflict is quite low now that Megatron and Optimus have settled things between them and Megatron has been appointed Lord Protector of the Hive. They have joined together out of a need for shared resources and, on Optimus’ part, an urging from the Matrix and his inner court to secure his position as the new Prime (potential-to-be Magnus) of the Hive. As Sentinel had any other Prime potentiates killed before they could emerge from their second cocoons, and then fell to sickness, Optimus was in a very precarious situation that could have led to Iacon facing colony collapse or poaching from other Hives— prior to becoming more isolationist under Nova Prime and Sentinel Prime, Iacon had long been held in high regard for their gifted magic adepts and skillful healers (as well as a carefully maintained library due to the work of elder Alpha Trion) and many would be glad to take them and their knowledge in, should their community bonds crumble.

Tensions had been very high between Iacon and the Swarm in the past under Sentinel Prime’s leadership, with Sentinel as the aggressor rather than Megatron— for the most part Megatron had been very, very busy trying to quell infighting and claw back territory after his successful coup and duel to the death against Megazarak, the former leader of the Swarm and his and Galvatron’s sire. (Galvatron had previously been excommunicated and thrown out into the wastes of the Kaoni desert for her own attempt on Megazarak in Megatron’s grubhood, as she was considered mad due to her Seer abilities— the Swarm has a long history of distrust and disbelief in such things— and it would have been ‘dishonorable’ for Megazarak to kill her because of her insanity.) At current time the Swarm exists in name only; there are several different troupes and factions within that have splintered away for various reasons since that clash between Megatron and Megazarak, and the Swarm’s once ironclad grip on the Tarnish mountain range and surrounding territory (stretching from the Kaoni desert to roughly west of Tesarus) has been thoroughly broken, leading to infighting, banditry, and other conflicts.

Notable among these splintered groups are the Wyld Hunt as led by Tarn, the bastard offspring of Megatron, and Overlord’s strange wandering Circus. There’s also a bunch of idiots calling themselves the Scavengers? We don’t know what their deal is, but they’re human friendly and pretty bad at being mercenaries.

The Order of the Path are wandering pathguides and wayfinders of all sorts, who travel among various Hives and settlements to share news and, occasionally, guard caravans of travelers. Drift is one such pathguide, and travels between Iacon and Caminus regularly. Beyond the threat of ambush and bandits for large groups of travelers, there are large Voiceless (nonsentient) predators to contend with, ranging from those who are opportunistic to those who specifically predate on Fae and their kin.

There’s also the Court of Vos, which is constantly in conflict with itself, everyone around it, anyone who’s ever been tangentially involved, and probably you as well just because. Vos itself sounds constantly as if it is in argument with itself, given the concentration of the wasp population within. You will hear the buzzing before you even realize you’re within fighting distance.

The Coastal fae and their kith have very loose arrangements with each other and are typically solitary or form small pods with poorly defined territory claims. When conflict arises (which rarely occurs, as the beach dwellers and cave-lurks keep to themselves), issues are brought to Shockwave to mediate, as all are in agreement that Shockwave is the most impartial and sensible. This has nothing to do with the fact that he is also the largest. We swear.

As for the Kaon Market, it’s only a crime if you get caught. Don’t get caught.

[med-ex]

🎵”Late breaking story on the CBC A nation whispers, "We always knew that he'd go free" They add, "You can't be fond of living in the past 'Cause if you are, then there's no way that you're gonna last”

Name: Arroyo Jones

Birthplace: Canada; Coastal

Gender: Non-Binary

Age: 27 (2075)

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.: depends on the chems💫

Faction: Settlers/Independent

C.A.M.P. Location: Beside the Wayward

Weapon of Choice: Light machine gun & Ripper

Born in what was once known as Canada before the uprisings and brutal slaughter of their country's people, Arroyo Jones was born while the tragedy was still settling into the dust of the annexed nation. Their Californian parents, though supporting the plight of the Canadian people, fled back into their home country right before The Great War, where they secured a place in Vault 76. 🏜️Named after the southwestern word for "gully", Arroyo will one day share the same name as a town that will arise on the opposite side of the country 65 years after their return to the surface. Vault life was slow, pretentious and though they only spent two years of their life above the surface, it was their dream to feel natural sunlight once again. Due to growing up with their parents hushed stories of the evil that old American Dream™️ once caused, Arroyo was aware to an extent to what they might find upon their return to the dirt above them. Though they never expected to face what they eventually came across upon exiting the vault they grew up in. Making it their mission to broker peace between each faction in Appalachia while simultaneously trying to shed light on the evils of the Old World, Arroyo finds themselves an ambassador of sorts to the area's varying different groups of people with their many beliefs on how to lead America into a better tomorrow. ✨But the America they once knew is dead and to Arroyo, dead is where it should stay. Eventually they set up a pitstop near the local bar locals called "The Wayward", creating a shop and hovel for the struggling dweller and weary traveler to take a rest & find affordable blueprints, aid and weaponry to assist them in their survival in what most of the time, tended to be a harsh, unforgiving wasteland.

[dinosly]

Maritimes Against Climate Change

One week ago my group Maritimes Against Climate Change held a rally to bring the community together and hold the fossil fuel companies, who get tax breaks while destroying our world, accountable.

Here was the speech I was supposed to do, but had to wrap it up due to me recovering from a cold and the weather:

"Hello everyone, thank you all for coming despite the weather. We can all see that Canada still has a little bit of cold left in her despite what were here for.

Over the last couple of years, outright Climate Denialism has been waning. Many people see with their own eyes that "October used to be cold" or "we would get long lasting snow before December".

Denying that humanity is the cause usually follows, that's easy to disprove, then denying that its a problem is next, which if you come across that I have some information to help argue that point:

Cost of Environmental Events: Atlantic Canada has experienced significant financial losses due to extreme weather events. For instance, Hurricane Fiona in 2022 caused damages exceeding $800 million, underscoring the vulnerability of our infrastructure and communities. CBC

Fisheries and Aquaculture: Warming ocean temperatures and changes in salinity are affecting fish stocks and aquaculture operations. Notably, the lucrative lobster industry in Nova Scotia has faced challenges due to shifting populations and increased competition.

Agriculture: Increased frequency of droughts and heavy rainfall events disrupt crop yields, impacting food security and rural economies. The 2023 drought in Atlantic Canada led to significant agricultural challenges, with some regions receiving only a quarter of their usual rainfall. Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada

Fishing and agriculture are the backbones of our communities, farmers in particular are in tune and rightfully worried about the climate crisis, because their crops and their livelihoods are on the line.

For more individual impacts to counter the "it doesnt effect me specifically" crowd:

Insurance and Financial Services: The rise in climate-related disasters has led to higher insurance claims and premiums. In 2021, severe weather caused $2.1 billion in insured damages across Canada, with Atlantic Canada being particularly affected. IBC

Health: Rising temperatures are increasing heat-related illnesses, while poor air quality during wildfire seasons poses respiratory risks. In 2023, Atlantic Canada experienced an unprecedented wildfire season, leading to health advisories and evacuations. CBC

Housing: Coastal and riverine flooding threaten homes and necessitate relocation or expensive retrofitting. Sea-level rise projections indicate that the Atlantic region will experience the largest local sea-level rise in Canada, increasing the risk of flooding and erosion. CNN

Thank you to Climatlantic for these statistics.

As I say a lot in these marches, in New Brunswick, we have the forest to our left and the sea to the right, both integral to our survival but with climate change, can also be a risk. I have nightmares all the time of me, my parents, my grandparents, my friends, my future family being evacuated because their homes are no longer safe. I do not wish that upon anyone on this earth.

Finally, the last state of climate denialism is also the one that hurts the most, because it comes not from a place of ignorance, but apathy, hopelessness. The viewpoint that we cant solve it, that its too late.

And i get it, the world is a big place, a lot of moving parts, lobbying is so rampant it easily makes you feel small. But you are not alone. The average New Brunsweicker is closer to being homeless than ever having as much as the people who influence the world's politics, but the thing is, there are way more if us. And if we come together in solidarity and tackle the same problem, we can influence the policies that effect we the people.

For many years we have seen that corporate greed has not only hurt the environment, but our communities as well. Multimillion dollar Companies continue to choose profits over the people that brought them to that place. Rising costs of everything has been straining all of us thin, and the climate crisis, exacerbated by the fossil fuel industry will not help. We need to be vocal that the reason that these companies as well as our politicians are at the place they are is due to the blood sweat and tears of the hardworking individuals of our communities. Every time we try to make companies pay their fair share, they make their customers or even their own employees shoulder the burden.

We need to stand in solidarity with workers and demand for policies that not only change, but improve the lives of all New Brunsweickers. Making sure that the future of Maritimers aren't thought of with fear and worry, but hope.

And how do we get our voices herd? Rallying our communities. Organizing events, bringing these towns, cities, communities together all under a single driving force, our future. Starting small with local governments, municipalities, up to provincial and hopefully to a national scale, we will bring the voice of the people to where it needs to be. Just as one kid rallied the world for climate action before covid, I plan to rally the maritimes for the same cause. Our voices need to be loud! Our mission needs to put the lives of New Brunsweickers first! The environment of will be a priority of course but we will never forget that this will be done by New Brunsweickers for New Brunsweickers.

This fight needs to be workers, the everyday person, versus the companies and CEOs that effect us all. We need to show them that we stand together and wont stand for this treatment anymore! So rally your fellow workers, strike, picket, march, get involved with local government, local groups, everything. Because if we won't do it, who will?"