#remarkable 2 planner

[reviewsbyjsn]

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[templates-resumeblog]

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[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[vedplanner]

2023-2024 reMarkable 2 Planner: Boost Productivity with Ultimate Templates and Time Tracker https://etsy.me/3GPhtq1

[lurkingshan]

Hellooo, do you have any recs for well written bls that also deliver on the romance front? My favorites that are both great shows and great love stories are Eighth sense, Old fashioned cupcake and I told the sunset about you ( the 2nd season is great but I dont f with cheating)...

Hello! I am interpreting your ask to mean you want bls that 1) are focused on a Big Love Story as their main purpose and 2) have strong writing that nails the romance, in particular. With that in mind, here's what I would recommend in addition to the ones you already listed, sorted into a few categories.

Dramatic and Swoony

La Pluie

Two soulmates (or are they?) meet, try to figure out their relationship, and decide whether they care what destiny has to say about it. Also features an equally swoony side couple romance. This show is Big Romance all around and very much in conversation with the genre.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

It doesn't get much more epic and swoony than this show about a modern gay man who gets sent back in time and falls in love with a young heir. This one has an asterisk next to the strong writing criteria because things get pretty wobbly in the final arc, but the romance stays strong throughout and it features some of the best bl romance scenes of all time.

Bad Buddy

It's gay Romeo and Juliet, but nobody dies (though importantly, someone does get shot). This one is tumblr famous for a reason!

Romantic Comedy

Cooking Crush

The sweetest romcom Off and Gun have ever made, with a simple love story between a med student and a chef. This show has some flaws--they let a drunk monkey take over the editing booth on a few episodes in the middle--but it's well written and the romance is great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

A remake of the Japanese original, this one shocked most of us by improving on an an already solid show. It's a fantastic romance, alternately funny and poignant and sweet as hell.

Semantic Error

The perfect bl romcom doesn't exis--

Light On Me

A high school love triangle where everyone is likable and the right boy gets the guy.

I Cannot Reach You

High school friends to lovers and done exactly right. This show is so goddamn charming and funny while still managing to get to the underlying angst of this trope. Perfection.

My School President

This one is all first love and high school shenanigans and a ton of original songs that will get stuck in your head.

Comforting and Cozy

Sing My Crush

Here's one for your constant rewatch list. A story of two best friends who love each other instantly but take awhile to make it explicitly romantic, as one of them is hurt and hiding and the other is oblivious yet somehow still devoted. You will love them.

Takara’s Treasure

This is a gentle love story between two lonely people who are exactly the right fit for each other but struggle with their own insecurities.

Our Dating Sim

A second chance romance for two high school friends who meet again as adults after a bad separation. Short and sweet with just the right touch of angst to burrow into your heart.

Angst Baby

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This is a really beautiful and evocative show.

Wedding Plan

A gay man who is preparing to marry his lesbian best friend to protect themselves from their families falls in love with his wedding planner. It's a classic romance trope but this show does it so well, with an added layer of queer angst that really deepens the story.

My Beautiful Man

A high school story that centers on a psychologically complex relationship dynamic that will not become fully clear to you until the end (by design, the writing for this show is remarkable). It's not a traditional romance but it is a deeply moving one, and if you like it there's a sequel season and movie that are both also great.

Theory of Love

The messy angst-ridden friends to lovers drama we deserve. Don't skip the special episode, it's one of the rare cases where the special is actually crucial to the story and not just bonus fluff.

My Tooth Your Love

This one is romcom shaped but also deals a lot with trauma, so on balance it's more of an angsty romance. Warning for dentistry (which I recently learned is an issue for a lot of folks on here).

Gameboys 1 and 2

A pandemic-era romance that starts long distance before our boys can come together in real life. Definitely watch both seasons!

Jack O’ Frost

The only bl that has ever used the amnesia trope well. A romance gone wrong that gets an unexpected second chance after an accident forces a reset of their relationship. I found the themes of generosity and forgiveness in this one really moving.

Seven Days

This one is what it says on the tin--spend a week with two teenage boys as they try out dating each other. I really love the structure of this one, and the romance is well done.

[mariacallous]

CUT DEEP into the innards of the southern front, Ukraine’s first underground hospital feels like something out of a James Bond movie. State-of-the-art gadgetry begins with admissions. Wounded soldiers arrive directly from the battlefield: in cars, ambulances, quad bikes, or whatever else can carry them. They are assessed and colour-coded into modules by urgency: “red zone” cases for immediate operations, “yellow zone” for other treatment. Alongside an operating theatre, enclosed in steel barrels several metres below ground level, is an intensive care unit. There is a ventilator, and even a laboratory for blood tests. The centre is set up for sophisticated operations: bone repair, soft tissue reconstruction, and even arterial bypass surgery.

In military jargon, this is a “role 2” facility, the second of four treatment tiers from frontline triage to tertiary hospital care. Doctors move people on if they can. Those stable enough are whisked off to “role 3” facilities, approximately 30km away. The rest are treated and stabilised here, a little over 10km from the contact line. The hospital’s immaculately joined wooden beams—chosen over concrete to soften shrapnel in the event of a Russian strike���project a deceptive warmth, like being in a Scandinavian sauna. The drones and glide-bombs that terrorise the skies outside make clear that this is not a place to relax. Ukraine’s medics are here, underground, not by choice. Like the soldiers they treat, they are among the hunted.

Evhen, the underground hospital’s chief medical officer, grunts at any suggestion that Russia might follow the Geneva conventions, which forbid targeting medical units. “They don’t even know what it means,” he says. To the Russian military, doctors are “force multipliers”—they patch up soldiers and send them back to fight, take a long time to train and are hard to replace. Ukraine now tells its medics to remove any markings that might set them apart. “If you put a red cross on a car, you’ll be fired on within 15 minutes.” The goal is still to get wounded soldiers from the frontline to a role 2 treatment unit within an hour, but drones drag out the process, often for hours. The delays often mean life or death; limb or no limb. Leave a tourniquet on for more than a few hours, and tissue damage is irreversible.

Ukraine believes survival on the battlefield is the key to regaining the edge in a war that has become largely attritional. The underground hospitals are a key part of the puzzle, says Roman Kuziv, the 35-year-old doctor who helped design them. A technocratic planner with experience of working as a surgeon in Europe, Dr Kuziv has quickly risen through the Ukrainian ranks: from local hospital chief to medical commander of the entire eastern and southern front. He lets data guide him to new standards and protocols. War pulses through the monitors in front of him. He claims the medical data give him “80% of the picture” about what is happening on the battlefront. Where units are well organised and where they are not. Where morale is good and where it is not. He makes a call to commanders whenever he spots a problem.

Swiping through images on his smartphone—a surreal blend of family photos and flesh wounds—Dr Kuziv reveals the brutal injuries and hard choices his teams face daily. He pulls up a photo of a man with a gaping hole in his upper body, alongside a kidney sliced in two, and a 30cm slab of missile metal that had been lodged deep in his midriff. “Did the man make it?” Remarkably, yes, he did. Another soldier, this time with a deep gash across his back, part of his spine missing, internal organs spilling out. That soldier survived initial surgery in the underground hospital, but died two days later. A third clip shows a soldier in his 30s, convulsing violently as he tries to drink a cup of water. What was up here? “Hydrophobia,” the commander says. “An extreme aversion to water.” In short, the soldier had rabies, caused by a single bite from a cat, and it was too late to save him. The army saw a handful of such cases before culling wild animals in the area.

Almost three years of war have brought Ukraine’s army doctors a mountain of unexpected challenges. Drones have largely rewritten the rulebook on battlefield wounds: the numbers are rocketing, and the attacks are more persistent, more targeted. The “golden hour”—NATO doctrine for evacuating a soldier to proper care within 60 minutes—has become something closer to fiction. Chemical weapons have returned to the field, too, with the re-appearance of agents like chloropicrin, a poison gas first seen in the trenches of the first world war. The gas, used to flush out Ukrainians from their trenches and foxholes, attacks the soft tissues of the respiratory system. At higher doses, it kills.

The demands have seen Ukrainian military medicine develop in quick time. Today’s setup is unrecognisable from seven years ago, when Dr Kuziv first began working with the army. The commander regularly tracks Russian social media to gauge how well he is doing. He’s usually happy with the comparison with Russian front-line medicine. “It’s the second world war over there.” But the demands and need to stay ahead are relentless. The ministry of defence has just approved another 20 of his “role 2” underground hospitals, which are being co-financed by an industrial sponsor. The commander is also working on an overhaul of “role 1” facilities, front-line triage units. According to his futuristic vision, these will be accessible underground by a system of mechanical elevators.

There have been mistakes, thousands who could have been saved. But Russia’s war without limits would test the resources of any military medical service, Dr Kuziv insists. “All-out war gives you one or two months to study and adapt.” NATO countries should be thinking about how they would cope, he says. “Honestly, they are not prepared. They wouldn’t know what’s hit them.”

[delirious-donna]

Chapter 1: The Flawless Performance

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: professor/student dynamic, reader is 21, riled emotions, distrust towards reader, mentions of female masturbation, fantasising about her sexy professor, explicit content in all subsequent chapters

summary: You had been his favourite. It should have stayed that way, and Professor Nanami would realise the error of his ways one way or another.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

“I think you’ll find, Sir…”

The rest of the sentence was obscured behind the wild pound of his pulse. Every nerve set ablaze by the sugary sweet voice that was the bane of his very existence. Strong fingers gripped the pen in his hold with renewed strength, feeling the give of the flimsy plastic as he crushed the life out of it. Splintering shards flooded his palm, and he had to fight every urge not to show the evidence of his ire.

A sea of faces stared down at him, a range of expressions from over-eager interest to downright blatant boredom, and among them–you stood out. It was impossible for his eyes not to swivel straight to where you sat, the same seat you always took. The one dead centre, ensuring that he would give you the majority of his attention–you demanded it after all.

Professor Nanami stared down his charges; long had he become disillusioned with the life of a teacher. It felt like an age had passed since he had considered himself eager to share his knowledge, now finding solace as the clock above the door ticked towards clocking off time more than anything else. There had been a time when he was fresh-faced and excited to encourage the next generation, but as everything else had in his life, the shine had worn off remarkably fast.

A haunted silence rang through his mind despite his awareness that you were still talking, not a word of it did he hear. His elbow braced upon the lectern he stood at, one foot crossed over his opposite ankle as if he were bored stiff. The ability to mask his emotions came in handy at moments such as this, although it was becoming increasingly difficult and he knew exactly what the reason was. 

Kento’s gaze wandered somewhat aimlessly around the slightly raised platform that he stood upon, searching for something to focus his attention, and it fell on his meticulously clean desk on the far side.

A desk that suddenly seemed wrong; his brow lowered in concentration as he focused on the cherrywood desk. He scrutinised every inch with his sweeping gaze, something was out of place and not being able to spot the oddity was only causing his wrath to grow. It wouldn’t be long until it consumed him, that ugly feeling spreading like a sickness throughout his body until it succeeded in darkening every corner.

There it was.

A vibrant pink pen with an unsightly fluffy pompom at the end lay across his open planner. He glared at it. He wished for nothing more than to set it ablaze with his eyes alone. This was not the first time he had seen this particular pen, it had a strange habit of appearing on random parts of his desk despite the numerous times he had disposed of it, and the wild thought of who this pen likely belonged to struck him right between the eyes.

The phoney cutesy voice was still going strong as he attempted to tune back in, your words dissecting every point he had made within the last forty-five minutes of his lecture. You wielded your words like a surgeon wields a scalpel. Nanami walked to his desk, each step of his feet sounded like an ominous thunderclap on the polished wood.

There was no other noise within the auditorium other than his footfalls and the incessant crucifixion of today’s lesson, he could sense the brewing storm that pressed heavily upon everyone present. It was evident from the way he watched students shuffle in their seats, that uncomfortable squirm that spoke of their wish to be able to escape the impending doom.

He reached the desk in a mere six paces and picked up the offending pen with his finger and thumb, holding it like it was something he’d rather not touch at all.

Wait, was that a falter in the diatribe being spouted?

Nanami rounded the desk until he could lock eyes with you, amused at how you had rushed to continue your speech. Hazel eyes stared directly into yours, he held your gaze as his fingers released the pen to fall to its death within his trash can, the clatter of the plastic meeting metal sounding far louder than it should.

At long last, you had come to the end of your admonishments, and a slow smile spread across his face. You didn’t need to know that he was literally biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself in line, very aware that if he were to act upon the wishes he had at this moment, he would lose his job in a heartbeat. The shocked expression that graced your pretty face was victory enough.

Whatever you had expected from him, it surely wasn’t this and he was filled with momentary satisfaction that was far too fleeting for his liking. It was not nearly enough to douse the flames of irritation, but enough to allow him to find his voice once more. Walking with considered steps he stood centre stage and brushed a hand through his slightly ruffled hair.

“And with that, ladies and gentlemen, my character assassination as a Professor is complete.”

Kento pressed his arm tightly against his front, bowing as if he were an actor in a play and the curtain had finally fallen. Tinkling awkward laughter rang through the room, and he took the opportunity to spread his arm towards where you sat. Your eyes widened in surprise, your mouth popped into a small ‘o’ that looked so damn appealing to him at that moment, and such a tight hold on the pen in your grasp that your fingers were visibly trembling.

“Why don’t you stand and take a bow? Such a wonderful performance as my assassin. Clearly, you know more about the subject than I, the Professor do.”

Silence.

All laughter died in the throats of the students as they twisted in every direction to get a look at the girl in question. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel sorry for you, but it was so insignificant in comparison to the months of harassment he had suffered through that it was easy to squash the feeling under his heel.

Some may think that his lacking compassion made him cruel. How wicked to toy with his students in this way, he must have no feelings or empathy, but this was far from the truth. He did care, despite his waning enthusiasm for his profession, he still wanted the best for the students that walked through his door. The only crime that Kento was guilty of was being consumed by his thoughts–thoughts that were far from pure and just.

His annoyance for the mental and emotional torture he had been put through by you was more than evident, but more importantly, it was his annoyance for letting himself get this riled up in the first place that bothered him the most. For allowing it to get this far without putting a stop to it–he held the authority to do so, and he worried for a second that a part of him might have sickeningly enjoyed it. Who in their right mind would be so depraved to have enjoyed what he had experienced?

Speaking of his tormentor, you slammed your open notebook closed with an echoing thud. The reverberation rattled at his nerves, and he ground down on his molars as you got to your feet to give a cute curtsey. Ever the brilliant actress, no one would ever suspect the evil mind that was housed within your angelic-looking head.

Damn you…

~

Professor Nanami, why do you snub me so? 

What changed, and why do I care more than I’d like?

It was always a challenge to interject into one of his lectures, despite the alarming regularity with which you did so. Everything about him was imposing; from his stature to his authoritative voice. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t found yourself staring at the broad frame of your business ethics professor on more than one occasion. Getting woefully lost in your mind at just how wide his shoulders were beneath the crisp button-ups that he always wore.

You remembered well the day at the beginning of the summer months, the one when the weather seemed intent on cooking everyone to a sizzling crisp. Reliving the memory of the mesmerising way he had rolled his sleeves to the elbows. Not only had it exposed his muscled forearms, the thick tendons pulled taut whilst his equally thick fingers worked the stiff fabric, but also the tawny complexion of his skin. 

How amusing that he should teach business ethics when you had long strayed into very unethical territory, but it wasn’t enough to stop you in your endeavours–not nearly enough. He deserved it after all, stringing you along only to cast you aside for seemingly no reason at all. Could you really call it stringing you along? 

If you thought about it rationally for even a second, you would likely conclude the insanity of the emotions that ruled your head but it was difficult when you manifested hearts in your eyes every time you walked through the hallowed doors of Professor Nanami’s lecture hall.

You weren’t some silly sixteen-year-old girl anymore, so why did it seem your emotional maturity regressed within his presence? From the very first moment you met him, you were hooked. Down so sickeningly bad that you went out of your way to impress him time and time.

Shrugging off the whispered sneers of “teacher’s pet”  and becoming top of the class with a lot of hard work and dedication to the subject matter. Weren’t you the perfect cliche; lusting after your handsome professor like some lovesick puppy? 

You tried to forget about your attraction, tried valiantly to socialise with your peers and find a man of your own age to fantasise about in the dead of night when your thighs tightened against the pillow shoved between them and your spine bowed off your lonely, single mattress.

It was always eyes of warming sun-kissed brown that pierced through the veil of your arousal. Hair the shade of harvest-ready wheat that you imagined buried at the apex of your thighs and the tick of his expensive timepiece that marched steadily onwards whilst the hand attached curled around your waist.

Kento…

You had learned his given name quite by accident, hearing another Professor address him by it when they both assumed they were alone and since then you had longed to whisper it in his ear. How perfectly it rolled off your tongue, the syllables melding together beautifully in the breathless way you exhaled it as you fell apart on your fingers, wishing they were his.

So, yes it was petty, and yes you knew it was wrong to torment him as you had been, but you weren’t going to stop. Not unless he forced you to, and that very thought was exhilarating. The battle of wits and resolve would continue until he saw the error of his ways, you were special and he should admit that to himself instead of shutting you out.

[sourcreammachine]

so the UK government is planning to change the definition of extremism after NINE people were arrested at the London Palestine march, out of one hundred thousand attendees

yeah, if the charges against the arrested are correct then those were hate crimes, unambiguously - chanting about a historic massacre of jews. but with the Tories’ abhorrent PCSCA on the books and in force, which treats fundamental acts of protest as crimes, it’s remarkable that this event ended with that few arrests. this was without question a peaceful and honest outcry in a democratic society

so, the met and Braverman’s draconian powers failed this time. so Gove announces they’re changing what extremism is defined as, ie so the PCSCA acts better next time. fucking hell

i cannot stress this enough. the UK government must not be given this enabling act, not for Cruella, not for Rishi, not for Keith, not for no one.

the main point of the PCSCA was to stamp out climate protests and other bothersome groups. if the government gets to redefine extremism, protesting in this country is going to be far more difficult. not to mention the monitoring that comes along with the extremist label. the climate protests, the Sarah Everard protests, BLM, the republic movement, central strike demonstrations, pride, trans vigils, they can all end with far more mass arrests, criminal records and monitoring. no Princess can try to sanitise that

and if the label is broadened far enough for this measure to achieve what it wants, then it’s crying-wolf. antisemitism IS roaring high in this country, and we need community solidarity and state action to counter it to save lives, livelihoods, and the British Jewish communities that mean so much. by swamping the definition of criminal antisemitism with criticism of the IDF and Israeli State, via the definition “support for Hamas” [citation needed], congratulations, it’s far harder to recognise, counter and fight the actual antisemitic problem in this country. it’s dead-catting every jewish person in britain

i’ve been silent about this month’s events so far. i’ve been disgustingly silent. because i saw 1,400 innocent people slaughtered in the Simchat Torah Massacre, and 200 kidnapped, and i felt the need for justice. in a just world, this would be a just cause, one of the most just you can imagine. the planners and perpetrators of this horrific attack would’ve needed to be dragged to The Hague and left to rot forever. i kept silent because of cognitive dissonance, no more no less. i was outraged and in mourning. i wanted justice, and i wanted it so bad that i could put aside the fact that this is not justice, and it never would have been with an IDF pursuing its everyday atrocities

the Simchat Torah dead are never going to be done justice. they are being used. the IDF, SOI, Netanyahu, Likud and their enablers are waging something beyond retribution. this is genocide. Gaza is being blitzed and butchered. annihilation and death is the end goal. and my government is planning to define believing that fact to be extremism. they couldn’t move their arses about hate law after Brianna Ghey, or the Plymouth Incel, or Finsbury Park, or Jo Cox, but apparently not wanting 2 million people to be bleached off the face of the earth needs to be stamped out

[princess-of-the-corner]

Toontown: Rewritten Recap: February 2003 (Party Crashing)

And those last few posts in January were setting up February’s first arc.

February 1, 2003

Fat McStink was ready to throw a party, one he declared would be the greatest party in the Tooniverse!

And unlike Doglet, Improvaganza, and his hilariously depressing birthday “party”, he KNEW people were actually going to show up and have fun!

A scientist approached him (as a scientist has done for MOST of the major players in this story, actually) with some drawings for “The Greatest Party in the Tooniverse”. The drawing showed attractions like cannons, streamers, and trampolines.

The entrance to the party? An oversized party hat.

And thus, party hat-shaped Party Gates had been installed in every Neighborhood’s Playground (except for Goofy Speedway and Chip ‘n Dale’s Acorn Acres), each one staffed by two Party Planners.

At launch, parties included the following features:

Trampolines that bounce partygoers into the sky (with toons winning more Jellybeans the higher they bounce).

The Jukebox to set the soundtrack to one of various in-game songs (both 20 song and 40 song variants were available-yet-mutually-exclusive).

A Grand Fireworks Display to wrap it all up (works just like the Playground fireworks, but the Toons teleport back to the last Playground they were in after the fireworks finish).

As Alpha was coming to a close, Muddy Paws announced the FINAL Daily Votes. This time, toons would be voting on which party features to add next.

Also, Fat McStink specifically shouted out Sir Max as NOT being invited. Turns out that he can read morse.

(Also, the Toontown Times apparently declared “Improvaganza” to be “too confusing to be offensive”.)

And before I forget, when parties were first added, one could plan a party WITHOUT spending any Jellybeans!

Nothing could go wrong!

February 2, 2003

Cannons won the daily vote!

But Sir Max stole them and tried to use them to crash Fat McStink’s party, but only succeeded in crashing the Party Gate, keeping people from participating in parties.

Thus, Party Decorations were implemented instead.

February 3, 2003

Hawkheart revealed that, as they’re out of gunpowder thanks to Sir Max’s stunt, they’ve decided to implement Dance Floors instead.

Why?

Hawkheart just REALLY likes dancing, so much that the update came 20 minutes late, and he forgot to let everyone into Toontown the day prior.

How do Dance Floors work?

Think like a free-style version of Match Minnie. If the sequence of arrow keys you press corresponds to one of the dance moves, your Toon will perform that dance. If not, your Toon will slip.

You can have either a 10-move or 20-move Dance Floor.

The better you dance, the more Jellybeans you earn.

February 4, 2003

Fat McStink complained about a lot of issues plaguing his party, forcing the team to delay the daily vote again.

Mostly due to explosives being found in several bits of the equipment, but Trampoline springs were snapping (causing a crash), the Party Clock wasn’t ticking right (causing parties to not end at the right time), and the Party Gates wouldn’t show the correct populations of parties.

Also, Sir Max gave Fat McStink TNT for his birthday.

Muddy Paws and Hawkheart fixed everything up, though, so Fat McStink was optimistic that he’d have the perfect party within the next 3 days.

February 5, 2003

Sir Max, after breaking all of the cannons from the Party Supply Store (he tried to fire dynamite out of them, which only lead to them blowing up), decided to take a couple of cannons from an unattended truck.

He loaded himself into a cannon which had been loaded into another cannon, took aim at the party gate, and FIRED!

The cannons blew up, covering him in soot.

February 6, 2003

Cannons were delayed again, as the delivery truck driver somehow lost all his cannons when he left his truck parked outside the Chortle Café. Another shipment was due the next day.

An oblivious Fat McStink remarked on how well-behaved Sir Max was in his timeout.

As the other Toon Troopers were called out to work on various projects, they were the only ones still in town.

February 7, 2003

Sir Max had been working on a master plan to FINALLY crash Fat McStink’s party. While the others were working on something else, he fine-tuned the trajectory of the first cannon, applied anti-explosives to the second, wrapped himself in a titanium mold, and was thanked by Fat McStink for finding the missing cannons.

As a show of gratitude, Fat McStink invited a thoroughly befuddled Sir Max to his party.

Sir Max then claimed this was his master plan all-along!

Also, cannons were FINALLY added as a party activity.

Just load yourself into the cannon, take aim at the clouds, and try to bounce off of as many as possible before you hit the ground. You can earn 3 Jellybeans per cloud bounced, with a hard cap of 200 Jellybeans per flight.

February 8, 2003

Sir Max had a grim announcement, tidings of a horrible doomsday: The Toon Troop were taking another break.

Why?

They had some out-of-town obligations, and Sir Max and Fat McStink had only stuck around as long as they did because SOMEONE needed to finish up work on parties.

In fact, Sir Max’s Taxi Driver was getting very impatient with him.

Also, the 20-song Jukebox was renamed “the Jukebox” and the 40-song Jukebox was renamed “the Deluxe Jukebox”.

Regardless, they would all be preoccupied for the next week.

-

Goodness gracious how many things can go wrong at once?

[ahb-writes]

Comics Review: 'The Grand Odalisque' & 'Olympia'

The Grand Odalisque & Olympia by Bastien Vivès, Florent Ruppert, Jérôme Mulot

anthology

burglary

European comics

thief

My Rating: 2 of 5 stars

Carole is the experienced thief; she's a skilled planner and knows precisely how to take control of the room. Sam is the muscle; she's practical, rides motorcycles for stunt work, and is good at pretending she isn't nervous. Alex is an irrepressible idiot. Insisting these three women broach some semblance of camaraderie to steal a few massive paintings from Paris' most respected art institutions is a difficult ask.

The Grand Odalisque and Olympia are an impatient gamble. These graphic novels feature art that teases beautiful colors and a remarkable architectural design aesthetic. The book also wields deliberately formless character art with washed-out facial expressions, which leaves readers with a plethora of continuity errors, awkward exchanges, and unintentional comedy. The graphic novels feed a duplicitous cycle of characters consistently bailing one another out of their own messes. Carole, Sam, and Alex comprise a fun but frustrating, exciting but chaotic cocktail of marginally plausible art thievery.

Stealing giant paintings from famous French galleries is all fun and games until your inexhaustibly simpleminded partner forgets her cue. Plundering the wealthy under the guise of party shenanigans is a daring enterprise until the French Special Forces raid the dang place. Plotting a massive, three-part heist of the Petit Palais makes for good exercise until you remember (a) one of your partners is nine months pregnant and (b) a mafia assassin is sleeping on your couch, just in case things go sideways.

The duology makes for a quick, enjoyable read. And although one might readily roll their eyes at the prospect of three bickering women being capable of pulling off such feats, the books' primary delights rest in the artful framing of each heist rather than their sloppy execution.

The books' occasionally spectacular environmental design come very close to convincing readers that each book's character development isn't as terrible as it really is.

The side-room to a flourishing European disco is flush with green lighting and floral ambiance. The glass ceiling of an art museum shatters, scattering thousands of shrapnel over twisted and expressionless marble statues. The background art is delightful. But it's a distraction.

In between detailed, wide-angle shots of grand museum architecture, one finds characters who stumble, repeatedly, and complicate an otherwise feasible narrative. Some characters are solid. Sam is tough but insecure, and despite regularly being labeled the crew's getaway driver, offers plenty of skill and support in the way of strength and flexibility. But on the other end of the spectrum, Alex is a waste of space.

The sad truth is that Alex is profoundly incompetent. Typically, the creative team weds her naïve and spontaneous disposition to the story's blunt humor (e.g., faking attraction to an assassin to get his guard down), but more often than not it sidetracks the narrative in excruciatingly cancerous ways. For example, Alex derails a plan to break into the Louvre by flying to western Mexico to save a gun runner she doesn't know but insists she's in love with, or, in the titles' opening scene, ignoring Carole's call for help because she's busy fighting with a non-boyfriend over a text message.

One finds it hard to trust the character dynamics when one-third of the equation routinely sabotages the remaining two-thirds.

To wit, Carole is the star: She gets the blueprints, she calls the weapons dealers, she negotiates with black-market brokers, and she's adaptable when her partners invariably screw things up. Where Alex privileges recklessness (e.g., alcohol, drugs, astonishing feats of clumsiness), Carole exerts impulse control. And where Sam goes wide-eyed with uncertainty (e.g., fretting over splintering the crew's goal), Carole reminds the women that levelheadedness typically wins the day.

If either The Grand Odalisque or Olympia narrowed their point of view to focus exclusively on Carole, then the narrative would've gained far more than it would have lost. The graphic novels conjure clever criminal activities beneath a colorful tapestry native to whatever French museum happens to be within the sights of these three ladies. Also, the comic books offer brief but kinetic action, as well as a few cool chase scenes, albeit relegated to each tome's Third Act. In the end, after arduously side-stepping Alex's rife stupidity, which tangles much of the narrative, one finds the books are quite entertaining.

❯ ❯ Comics Reviews

[rachellaurengray]

20 Facts About Capricorn

1.Capricorn's Motto: "I use" – reflecting their practical and resourceful approach to life.

2. Chinese Zodiac Influence: In the Chinese zodiac, those born in the Year of the Ox share some characteristics with Capricorns.

3. Capricorn's Element: Earth, emphasizing stability, reliability, and a connection to the material world.

4. Astrological Houses: Capricorn rules the 10th house, associated with career, reputation, and public life.

5. Self-discipline: Capricorns are often admired for their strong sense of self-discipline and ability to endure challenges.

6. Ambition and Leadership: Many Capricorns are drawn to leadership roles due to their natural ambition and strategic thinking.

7. Numerology Connection: In numerology, the number 8 is linked to Capricorn, symbolizing authority and balance.

8. Saturn's Rings: The planet Saturn, ruling Capricorn, is famous for its stunning rings, representing the structure and boundaries Capricorns appreciate.

9. Age Influence: As the zodiac sign associated with aging, Capricorns often become more comfortable and self-assured with time.

10. Herbal Correspondence: Meadowsweet and comfrey are herbs traditionally associated with Capricorn.

11. Music Connection: Capricorns may have an affinity for classical or timeless music genres.

12. Innovative Thinkers: Despite their traditional reputation, many Capricorns possess innovative and forward-thinking minds.

13. Practical Aesthetics: Capricorns often appreciate aesthetics that are both practical and timeless.

14. Financial Acumen: Natural financial planners, Capricorns are skilled at managing resources and investments.

15. Love for Tradition: Capricorns often value tradition and may have a strong connection to their cultural roots.

16. Resilience: Capricorns have a remarkable ability to bounce back from setbacks due to their resilient nature.

17. Sense of Duty: They feel a sense of duty towards their family and community.

18. Maturity: Capricorns tend to display a level of maturity and wisdom beyond their years.

19. Long-term Vision: Capricorns are adept at creating and executing long-term plans.

20. Hidden Sensitivity: Despite their tough exterior, Capricorns can be deeply sensitive and caring, especially toward loved ones.

Here are some notable celebrities who fall under the Capricorn zodiac sign:

1. Denzel Washington: Born on December 28, this Academy Award-winning actor is known for his versatile roles in films like "Training Day" and "Glory."

2. Michelle Obama: The former First Lady of the United States was born on January 17 and is celebrated for her advocacy work and memoir, "Becoming."

3. Kate Middleton: The Duchess of Cambridge, born on January 9, is known for her grace, style, and philanthropic efforts.

4. Bradley Cooper: This talented actor and filmmaker was born on January 5, gaining recognition for his roles in movies like "Silver Linings Playbook" and "A Star is Born."

5. Ellen DeGeneres: The comedian and talk show host, born on January 26, is widely recognized for "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" and her contributions to LGBTQ+ visibility.

6. Zayn Malik: The former One Direction member and solo artist was born on January 12, showcasing his musical talents.

7. John Legend: Born on December 28, this Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and pianist is known for hits like "All of Me."

8. Kate Moss: The iconic British supermodel was born on January 16 and has been a prominent figure in the fashion industry.

These Capricorn celebrities have made significant contributions to various fields, demonstrating the diverse strengths associated with their zodiac sign.

[beardedmrbean]

A warning to Swedes from two top defence officials to prepare for war has prompted concern and accusations of alarmism.

Civil Defence Minister Carl-Oskar Bohlin told a defence conference "there could be war in Sweden".

His message was then backed up by military commander-in-chief Gen Micael Byden, who said all Swedes should prepare mentally for the possibility.

However, opposition politicians have objected to the tone of the warnings.

Ex-prime minister Magdalena Andersson told Swedish TV that while the security situation was serious, "it is not as if war is just outside the door."

Children's rights organisation Bris said that its national helpline did not usually receive calls about the possibility of war. But this week, it had seen an increase in worried calls from youngsters who had seen news reports or posts on TikTok talking about it.

"This was well prepared, it wasn't something blurted out," Bris spokeswoman Maja Dahl told the BBC. "They should have provided information meant for kids when they come out with this kind of information for grown-ups."

Despite the starkness of the messaging, the remarks from the civil defence minister and military chief are being seen as a wake-up call.

After more than two centuries of peace, Sweden is a few steps from joining the Nato defensive alliance, waiting for a green light from Turkey's parliament and then from Hungary.

The commander-in-chief said his remarks were nothing new.

He visited Ukraine's eastern front a month ago and Sweden is one of a group of countries training Ukrainian pilots. Stockholm is also said to be considering sending advanced Gripen fighter jets to Ukraine.

"My ambition with this is not to worry people; my ambition is to get more people to think about their own situation and their own responsibilities," Gen Byden later told Aftonbladet newspaper.

Finland has already joined Nato, and Russian officials have suggested it will be "the first to suffer" if tensions with Nato escalate.

How Sweden and Finland went from neutral to Nato

Sweden's civil defence minister said his aim was not for people to lose sleep, but to gain awareness of what was really going on. He appealed to local authorities, emergency planners and individuals to respond.

"If there is one thing that keeps me awake at night, it is the feeling that things are moving too slowly," Mr Bohlin told the Society and Defence conference on Sunday.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky called on Sweden during the conference to work with his country and others to manufacture weapons and "get stronger together".

Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson added that in 2024, Sweden would meet Nato's target of spending 2% of economic output (GDP) on military defence, doubling its spending since 2020.

Defence specialist Oscar Jonsson said the tone of the warnings from defence chiefs was something of a storm in a teacup and that 90% of what had been said arose from frustration that too little was being done to build civil and military defence.

"Time is limited and it was aimed at being a wake-up call for agencies, individuals and departments," he told the BBC.

"The Swedish armed forces are incredibly competent, but the scale is nowhere near. The latest defence bill says we should set up 3.5 brigades, whereas Ukraine had 28 when the war started."

Gen Byden's warning to prepare mentally for war comes hard on the heels of a warning a month ago from the head of Poland's National Security Bureau (BBN), Jacek Siewiera, who said that "to avoid war with Russia, countries on Nato's eastern flank should adopt a three-year time horizon to prepare for confrontation".

He said a German Council on Foreign Relations report suggesting Germany and Nato should prepare their armed forces to be able to fend off a Russian attack in six years was "too optimistic".

Oscar Jonsson, a specialist from the Swedish Defence University, said that while war was a possibility, it would require several factors to fall into place: Russia's war in Ukraine coming to an end, its military having the time to rebuild and rearm its fighting force and for Europe to lose US military support.

All of which were within the realms of possibility, he added.

[penguineatingblueberries]

Something About Eating the Rich - [Emory Sands x Berkeley F. De la Porta, 16+]

Summary: The actual events of one of Sands' and De la Porta's security walkthroughs.

Word Count: 2,487

(No one is gonna read this. Why did I spend a solid 2 hours on it.)

~~~

Emory Sands muffles a yawn with his hand as he walks De la Porta throughout the layout of the 40th floor for what seemed like the hundredth time. It’s not that he wasn’t used to doing these routine security walk-throughs. The MSIG event hall was quite the hot spot for a whole number of events. Though, he was often able to throw out a couple of fancy phrases and play-up the security features or qualifications of his team leaving the normal event planner satisfied. Only the actual night of the event was anything to be stressed over. 

Berkley F. De la Porta (whatever the F stood for) was a different story. Despite previous events running without a hitch, De la Porta had the need to helicopter over every single aspect of security for this event. Sands was certainly getting exhausted with it. It’s not uncommon for him to have to occasionally deal with the eccentrics of the upper class, but this man had been taking up a painful amount of his time with his upcoming event. All because of those goddamn paintings. 

It was a confusing and headache-inducing time dealing with De la Porta. Despite all of these security measures, questions, and requirements, the one time Sands actually recommended something to protect the paintings it was quickly shot down. Sands would never understand the rapidly changing mindsets of the board. All he really wanted was the night to be over, a bourbon and ginger at his lips, and the low rumble of a muffled Midlands Marauders game as he inevitably passes out on his apartment’s couch only to be startled awake by his alarm a few hours later. Rinse and repeat. 

Sands sighs as De la Porta walks confidently in front of him as if he owns the place. Well, he supposes De la Porta does literally own the building but that’s beside the point. After about 9 walkthroughs of the building, he would’ve had to have the 40th floor committed to memory. Hell, why was he really even there? De la Porta had circled through these halls plenty on his own. Sands smirks to himself. De la Porta should just do the security walk-throughs by himself if he was such a “security tech wiz”. Sands would much rather just sit in the Command Center like normal. Dark, quiet except for the gentle buzz of the ceiling lights above his chair, the game pulled up on his phone, and his half-eaten box of doughnuts. Alone. Yes. That was perfect. 

“Alright. We aught to wrap things up. It’s getting dark and I’m sure you’d rather be on your way home by now.” Sands remarks, gently rubbing the back of his shaved head. 

De la Porta stops dead in his tracks, heels sharply clicking on the tile as he does so. He throws up a hand still facing away from Sands. His head sharply looks over his shoulder sending his brown curls bouncing. 

“I have one more concern!” De la Porta asserts. 

Keeping himself from aggressively rolling his eyes, Sands forces a smile. These numerous “last concerns” were certainly making the glowing red exit sign in his periphery more and more appealing by the minute. 

“Porta, I can promise you that our measures are up to snuff. There’s nothing to be worried about. Trust me, you’ve made sure of that.” Sands grits through his teeth. 

“See!! That’s where you’re wrong!” 

De la Porta promptly turns around and points a finger at Sands. Sands crosses his arms and quirks an eyebrow.

“I thought as the esteemed Director of Security of my Miller Tower, you would’ve realized this sooner!” 

“I’m glad you’re here to remind me then, hmm? What have I forgotten?”

Sands subtly checks his watch. Dammit. The game had already started. He’s got to get this wrapped up. Just play nice and everything will be finished soon. As soon as De la Porta finishes his tantrums and string of “geniuses”.

“The HELIPAD!”

The billionaire smiles big, the ends of his mustache seemingly extra curly with this exclamation of self-thought brilliance. Sands simply stands there. Arms crossed. He smiles slightly at the question. Not a nice smile. One of those “are you stupid” smiles you get when you ask for black coffee at a particularly bougie down-town coffee shop when you’re running late for work and your usual spot is closed. Sands was familiar. 

“The helipad?”

“Yes! It’s a security risk!” 

“I assure you its not. No one can even land on that thing without clearing it with me first.   You are your friends will be perfectly safe landing on it in case you needed to come to a charity gala…in a private jet.” 

“That’s not what I’m concerned about!” De la Porta marches up to Sands and huffs. His hands go wide as he looks up at Sands. “Someone could just land on there in the middle of the event and rob! Everyone!” 

Sands starts to chuckle before thinking about it more and laughing, placing his hands on his thighs. De la Porta lets out a bit of a struggled, frustrated noise as he stomps his foot on the ground. 

“This is serious! I’m not going to have anything happen to my precious Morisot paintings!” 

De la Porta pauses for a moment before adding-

“-and all the other auction items of course. It would be a travesty.”

Sands rolls his eyes before regaining his composure and shoving his hands back into his pockets. He looks down at De la Porta. 

“Apologies. You���re right. Though, the helipad access is secured with two armored doors that only a special security keycard or a button from the Command Center can open. There are no worries there. Anything els-“

“I would still like the survey the area. For-! For-! … To make absolutely sure.” 

Crossing his arms, De la Porta puffs out his chest as he shoots Sands a determined look. Sands’ mouth quirks at the request. 

“As I explained before, it’s a bit of a hassle to get out there and it really is getting late.” 

“I have plenty of time if it is to ensure this event has top security! If you fail to plan, you plan for failure as I always say! Come come. I’m sure you already have the extra security card on you.”

Sands barely has any time to react before De la Porta grabs his arm and begins pulling him towards the Command Center. He quickly regains his balance and stops in his tracks. This coincidentally stops the smaller man as well who begins to start with his usual griping. 

“Look. Porta. It’s safe. I’ve had no issues with the helipad in the past. There’s no reason to go up there. Besides, its dark and I already hate going out there. Try to avoid it if I can. Just take my word on this one, ok?” 

“What? You scared of heights or something?” 

Sands remains silent at what was meant to be playful teasing. Playful teasing he usually would’ve shot down. Though, after working on a case of a woman who murdered an ex by pushing him off the top of a ferris wheel, Sands’ outlook on those sorts of things were significantly changed. 

“Oh.” 

The smaller man straightened his posture in surprise. Looks like he was also expecting the same response. This doesn’t last for long as his familiar smirk creeps back on his face.

“Well, in that case how about you just give me the keycard for it and I’ll take a look myself!” “I’m sorry but that’s against protocol.”

“Aweee, come on. You trust me, don’t you? I’m not going to do anything! You know that.” 

Sands looks away as he thinks for a moment. His hand fiddles with his tie clip before sighing. 

“Fine. But you can’t have mine. I’ll make you a temporary one.” 

De la Porta’s face lights up as the security guard continues their walk to the Command Center. He runs quickly right up beside him and walks in stride. Sands stares blankly forward as the billionaire next to him begins to mutter on and on about lord knows what. Something about how they make a great team or how he was surprised that there was something that scared the “great Emory Sands”. Sands was just tired and trying to think about what lie he was gonna tell once De la Porta actually went up to the helipad and saw there was not in fact two armored doors but just the regular staircase door like all the others. 

Sands opens the door to the Command Center and flicks on the dimly lit lights. He slides his slightly worn down office chair out from under the desk and takes a seat. He begins typing on the computer, pulling up the software for a regular temporary keycard and prayed De la Porta wouldn’t notice. 

“This shouldn’t take too long. Just give me a moment.” 

De la Porta leans on the doorframe and takes a look at his nails while he waits for Sands to finish. Clearly not a patient person and uncomfortable with the silence, De la Porta pipes up after a minute or two. 

“I think I should buy you a drink! To celebrate. We’ve made so much progress together and I want to thank you for the hard work you’ve put into this.”

Sands remains fixed at the computer, only breaking to lean down and grab a keycard from one of the drawers. 

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to decline this time. I need to get back to my apartment. I need to… water my plants.” 

He tried to come up with a better excuse than “I’m missing my favorite team playing right now” but… well. He didn’t have much. 

De la Porta lets out a hum in understanding and shifts his weight against the doorframe. The clock outside of the door clicks a few times before he pipes up again. 

“You’re a very lonely man, you know that?” 

“Excuse me?”

Sands quickly stops digging through the drawer and sits up to look at De la Porta. Those blue eyes pierce straight through him as the rich man stands up straight and crosses his arms. 

“I’ve never heard you talk any about a partner or children or pets or anything. Just money and work. That’s all. Or lack of money that is. Apparently they don’t pay you enough. Is that all life is to you, Emory? Work?” Sands scowls and begins to get out of his chair. 

“Look, I’m not going to get into my personal life with you and you have no right to stand there and berate me. You don’t know-“

De la Porta quickly steps into the room and pushes Sands back into the chair. He shifts a knee between Sands’ legs and rests his hands on Sands’ shoulders. He smiles darkly and gently traces a ringed thumb over one of the scars on Sands’ cheeks. 

“Nearly 5 decades of life without actually living. How sad… You know, I have the world right in the palms of my hands. I have everything I want. I can get everything I want. I can go wherever I please whenever I please. I live, Emory. I have power. I have the power to make my life whatever I want it to be. Now, isn’t that something?”

Sands makes a struggled noise and places his hand on De la Porta’s thigh. Though, his admitted weak pushes are only met with the knee being pressed further in. A strangled gasp escapes his throat and De la Porta leans down lower to his face. He hovers over the security guard’s pale, scarred skin, letting his hot breath trail down his face. 

“Tell me, Emory. How long has it been since you’ve truly enjoyed yourself? A year? Two years? A decade-?”

“Get off of me.”

“Darling~, we both know that if you truly wanted me to stop, you would’ve pushed me off long ago. You’re quite a lot bigger than I am.”

De la Porta pushes the chair up against one of the file cabinets and shifts to sit in Sands’ lap. He leans down to his neck and starts to pepper it with some light kisses. He feels Sands tense under him and his hands gently grip onto his hips. One of De la Porta’s hands slowly goes to Sands’ tie and begins to loosen it. 

“Mmm, a nice cologne you wear. Who’s it for?” 

Sands lets out a huff as he smiles, trying to regain control over his breathing. 

“Maybe it’s just for me.” 

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.”

De la Porta finishes unknotting Sands’ tie and casts it aside. He unbuttons the top couple of buttons on his crisp, white shirt before shifting back to Sands’ neck. De la Porta presses his mouth to it and begins to suck. The security guard grips tighter onto De la Porta’s hips as he chokes down a moan. The front of his pants tighten as he feels heat spread down in his lower half. De la Porta chuckles he pulls away slightly. 

“You know, I really do listen to what you say, Emory. Even something about having ‘unique feelings’ for me when you gave me the tac plan. Not something I expect you to say to every person that wanders this tower. Not even to please your boss.” 

Sands shifts in the chair and subconsciously grinds upward to try to relieve some of the pressure. De la Porta moans lowly in his ear before placing a hand on Sands’ chest to help himself sit up. He smirks and lifts up off of Sands’ hips. Sands grimaces at the sudden lack of weight. He tries to pull De la Porta back down on his hips as the smaller man chuckles. 

“I find it so interesting how much you try to gain power back over all of these high profile people with your little passive aggressive comments and sarcasm. But truly you don’t like being in charge. You miss having someone telling you what to do, isn’t that right? Is that why you retired so early once you became a lieutenant?”

Sands loosens his grip slightly and De la Porta presses his lips against his. He places his finger under Sands’ chin as he pulls away, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“Good boy~. How cute. I knew there would be something to break that levelheadedness of yours. So desperate… must have been a really long time then, hmm? Not to worry, darling. You don’t have to think. I’m going to tell you exactly what you have to do to please me and then I’ll give you a little reward for a job well done. A payment since you like those so much. How does that sound?”

Sands smirks and squeezes De la Porta’s hips. 

“Yes, sir~"

[astrovastuplus]

The Mysterious Group: Cancer, Virgo, and Scorpio

Astrology remains a subject that continually piques human curiosity, shedding light on the connections between celestial bodies and individual zodiac signs. Among the myriad of signs, Cancer, Virgo, and Scorpio hold particular intrigue due to their distinctive attributes and harmonious interactions. Let's delve into the characteristics and relationships that define these intriguing signs.

1. Cancer: The Compassionate Guardian (June 21 - July 22)

Distinctive Qualities of Cancer:

Exhibits deep emotional awareness and sensitivity.

Prioritizes familial and interpersonal connections.

Possesses a nurturing and empathetic disposition.

Interplay with Virgo and Scorpio: Cancer forms meaningful connections with Virgo and Scorpio due to their shared water-based elemental nature. This commonality enables a mutual understanding and emotional resonance among them.

The compassionate tendencies of Cancer align harmoniously with Virgo's pragmatic approach and Scorpio's fervent passion, fostering a relationship rooted in mutual support and emotional depth.

2. Virgo: The Methodical Planner (August 23 - September 22)

Distinctive Qualities of Virgo:

*Demonstrates analytical thinking and attention to detail.

*Values organization and practicality.

*Exhibits intelligence and thoughtful decision-making.

Interplay with Cancer and Scorpio: Virgo's methodical nature complements the emotional sensitivity of Cancer and the passionate intensity of Scorpio. Together, they form a cohesive unit where each sign's strengths contribute to a balanced and supportive dynamic.

Through Virgo's logical approach, coupled with Cancer's nurturing tendencies and Scorpio's unwavering commitment, they create a harmonious environment conducive to growth and mutual understanding.

3. Scorpio: The Determined Force (October 23 - November 21)

Distinctive Qualities of Scorpio:

*Possesses a passionate and assertive demeanor.

*Exhibits a mysterious yet intuitive nature.

*Demonstrates unwavering loyalty and determination.

Interplay with Cancer and Virgo: Scorpio's intensity resonates deeply with the emotional depth of Cancer and the practical mindset of Virgo. Their shared elemental attributes create a foundation for a meaningful and dynamic relationship.

The determination and loyalty inherent in Scorpio complement the caring nature of Cancer and the analytical prowess of Virgo, resulting in a synergistic alliance capable of achieving remarkable outcomes.

Conclusion

In summary, the relationships between Cancer, Virgo, and Scorpio exemplify the intricate dynamics and synergies present within the realm of astrology. Their shared elemental characteristics and complementary traits facilitate a harmonious and supportive connection grounded in mutual respect and understanding.

As we navigate the fascinating world of astrology, it becomes evident that each sign contributes unique qualities to the collective synergy. The collaboration between Cancer, Virgo, and Scorpio serves as a testament to the profound connections that can emerge when individuals embrace their distinct attributes and work together towards shared goals.

[mohohon]

taking a "reMarkable" detour...

Not Sims related but I didn’t know where else to put this so here it is! Recently made a digital planner for the upcoming 2024 year since I got gifted a reMarkable 2 writing tablet by my thoughtful husband and I was struggling to find a free, functional planner online. Sooooo in typical me fashion I cobbled together a working planner for myself and thought I’d just share the love in the form of…

[theconsofrom-coms]

Falling in Love While in a Relationship? Nope!

Just Justified Cheating!

We can't lie and say that there are many romantic comedies out there in which this becomes one of the main premises. Tell me...does this sound familiar? "Guy in a relationship meets girl who changes the way in which he sees many aspects of his life, she is so different from his own girlfriend/fiancée/wife and such a breath of fresh air, and she seems to treat him so much better!" and vice versa. Yeah, this is something that has become so popular in rom-coms that it should be a sub-genre of its own, I call it Justified Cheating!

We will be focusing on three movies in whose main couple is implicit of Justified Cheating. "Something Borrowed", "The Wedding Planner", and "Sex and the City 2" But make no mistake, there are dozens of rom-coms out there with a cheating premise.

Something Borrowed, or should I say, I will cheat on my fiancée with her best friend!

NOBODY IS INNOCENT IN THIS MOVIE! Rachel, the main character of this movie is in love with her best friend Darcy's fiancée, Dex, and after a night of drinks, end up sleeping together. This act becomes the catalyst for an affair that lasts basically up until the week before the wedding. And before anyone says "poor Darcy," well things are more complicated than that, as we find out that Darcy has also been having an affair with a man named Marcus, moreover, she's pregnant with his baby! WITH HIS BABY! But the cheating is soon found out, and Darcy, while hypocritical, is upset at finding out that her best friend has been sleeping with Dex, a man she was already engaged to.

This movie romanticizes cheating, as though it is okay as long as you have feelings for one another, as Rachel and Dex did since they had known each other since law school. That if you aren't totally fulfilled in your relationship, it is totally fine to find someone else out there to revitalize you, as long as you are still with your partner and make them believe in the so called relationship you have with each other.

The Wedding Planner, a guy just being a guy!

Mary is a woman who after a fatal break-up with her fiancée who she had found cheating with her maid of honor and best friend (Funny, how this seems to be a pattern, huh) has focused on her career as one of the best wedding planners in the industry. It all changes when she is rescued by a man, called Eddie. They go on a date and seem to have a genuine connection, even almost kissing at one point, but it all comes tumbling down, when she finds out that Eddie is the groom of the latest wedding Mary is planning.

It's funny to see how when confronted by the issue, all Eddie has to say is "Maybe I was just being a guy..." as if that is any excuse to cheat on your fiancée. Just guys being guys, right? Mary is no less innocent, as she continues to flirt with and make suggestive remarks towards Eddie when it comes to her growing feelings, although I will praise her for removing herself from the situation once she realized she was playing with fire. In the end though, Eddie and his ex have an amicable break-up the day of their wedding and Eddie finds Mary. While, there was never any instance where Eddie and Mary slept with, kissed, or showed any sort of physical affection, the intent behind their interactions was there. It was obvious that they were both falling for each other and instead of staying apart to avoid any heartbreak, they continued to be constantly in each other's faces. So yeah, apparently if you start falling out of love with a woman you've been with for a multiple amount of years, it is okay to cheat? Really?

And finally, Sex and The City 2, looking for unnecessary drama.

Well...what could we really expect from a movie whose main character is Carrie Bradshaw? Throughout the entirety of the franchise, both movie and show it was shown that Carrie thrived on the idea of having a relationship filled with glamour and drama, which is why it is so hard for her to live a regular married life. Finally, after so many years of wanting the aforementioned "Mr. Big" to be the one man in her life, she starts to feel stale in her marriage after 5 years. She is concerned that the sparkle of their relationship will fade, especially because they have decided not to have children. It would just be the two of them, for the rest of their lives.

This need for drama is only intensified when, in a trip to Abu Dhabi with her best friends, she runs into Aiden, a man who she had considered to be her other great love. A man, mind you, who she had previously cheated on with Big. They greet each other as old friends do, and considering the perplexing circumstances of their reunion, Carrie starts to believe it meant something. Although her friends advise against her going to dinner with Aiden, saying she's "playing with fire" she turns a blind eye to their warnings. And drumroll please...kisses Aiden on that date. And while many may say that it was just a kiss, it was not because it involves a man who once upon a time, was just as important for Carrie as Big is. While her and Big are able to reconcile after this incident, Carrie is never fully punished for her actions, although let's be honest, when has Carrie ever suffered the consequences of her actions in a permanent way.

And so, that is all I have to say in respect to romantic comedies' hidden subgenre, Justified Cheating!

I'll be back soon with our next topic, what will it be?

I wonder...