#devices exploded simultaneously

[zigcarnivorous]

Airstrikes on Beirut now

Hezbollah’s al-Manar TV reports that wireless devices exploded in the hands of those carrying them in several Lebanese areas.

-- "New wave of explosions across Lebanon" by Urooba Jamal and Federica Marsi for Al Jazeera, 18 Sep 2024 14:34 GMT

According to the National News Agency, three people were killed when unidentified wireless devices exploded in the town of Sohmor in the Bekaa Valley.

-- "At least 3 killed in new wave of explosions: Lebanon state media", 14:48 GMT

Dr Salah Zeineldine, chief medical officer at the American University of Beirut (AUB) Medical Center, says the majority of those who were admitted to hospital following yesterday’s pager explosions had facial injuries to their eyes and nose, as well as injuries to the lower abdomen and their hands, mostly their fingers. “Unfortunately with the hands, we had a lot of amputation of fingers, and with the eyes, we had lots of injuries which would leave permanent dysfunctional eyes or complete impairment,” Zeineldine told Al Jazeera. He also said that it is common for medical staff to use pagers. “We [at AUB] use them for a limited number of personnel, who are [in] high demand, and the high stakes personnel who need to be activated urgently,” he said.

-- "Majority of injured have facial wounds: Doctor", 15:05 GMT

Lebanon’s National News Agency, citing the health ministry, says more than 100 people have been wounded in the latest wave of explosions.

-- "More than 100 wounded in Lebanon’s ‘new wave of explosions’", 15:16 GMT

[christianstepmoms]

Not to downplay the persistent 10 month long carpet bombing of an entire city, but there's something particularly insidious about making a tens of thousands of civilians Pagers remote detonate simultaneously. like that requires an obscene amount of coordinated knowledge to infiltrate a countries entire phone network, reverse engineer tens of thousands devices to cause their batteries to overload and fucking explode, all at the same time.

In the minutes it takes to deploy long range explosives you can almost see how somebody would be able emotionally distance themselves from causing mass slaughter, but this took time to prepare. Every single minute, hour, day, month a year it took to plan, code, hack and coordinate this was done with persistent unbridled malice and intent to hurt and kill as many people as possible with particular consideration and subsequent disregard for collateral.

Israel must be destroyed. Every single Israeli soldier and government employee, bottom to top needs to be executed.

[fleshengine]

I think the main reason The Magnus Archives got the attention it did, in contrast to other, better, horror podcasts was 1. because there's two gay men in the core cast, and 2. something I've taken to calling the Sorting Hat Effect.

If a piece of young adult fiction has different categories the characters fall into, typically without their knowledge, consent, or involvement in the matter, people will go crazy with making sonas and OCs about it. Look at Percy Jackson, with the kids all having different godly parents and that designating what cabin they live in, and what powers if any they have. Look at Divergent with the different groups decided by some arbitrary and arcane test, I don't remember what they're called because it's been over a decade since I read it and I didn't like Divergent, next example. Look at Harry Potter with the Hogwarts Houses, chosen by magic hat and indicative of the character's soul or some shit.

All of these things are basically the fast track to characterization. They act as base templates for fans to build characters off of, and they're things that people can easily speculate on about themselves. If someone likes the piece of media they may even start to identify with the category. How many times have you seen someone with their hogwarts house proudly displayed?

The Magnus Archives uses this phenomenon extremely well. Smirke's 14 are teased out from from Season 1 but it isn't until episode 111 that all of them, their names, and their rituals, are explicitly told to the viewer. That's near the end of season 3, and shortly before the fandom began to really explode (from what I've gathered). The interesting thing about the world of TMA is that each character can belong to an entity among Smirke's 14, and simultaneously be haunted by one or more other entities.

When compared side by side with other horror podcasts, The Magnus Archives's horror is mid, its writing is mid, its characters are mid, its queerness is mid, and it owes its success to a writing device that suckles growing fandoms better than anything else I've ever seen. In short, 7.5/10, a decent gateway drug to better things.

Go listen to The Silt Verses, The White Vault, Hello From The Hallowoods, Archive 81, and Wolf 359. They're better.

(Oh and for the record I haven't listened to The Magnus Protocol yet)

[cleverwolfpoetry]

Psycho-pass Movie Novel Chapter 7 Complete

Note before reading: sentences in italics represent the character’s thoughts; sentences between square brackets are phone/radio conversations or the voice of dominators or other electronic devices.

1

Among Desmond’s mercenaries was Bun, a dark-skinned Thai with chiselled features. He wore a jet pack with wings and an engine on his back, allowing him to move by jet propulsion.

As a sniper, Bun needed to always move into a dominant position. To do this, he used a high-performance, hydrogen-powered jet pack. It was a hybrid version that also supported compact batteries, which could be replaced by cartridges.

With sniper Bun’s offensive, the raid went from stealthy to dynamic. Bun, who was flying, landed on the top of a hill overlooking the group of ancient ruins. He was carrying a huge sniper rifle, using the jet pack on his back as a rifle rack. A sighting system with magnified holographic display — to receive information from Yulia — and semi-automatic firing of 20 mm armour-piercing incendiary rounds.

After the dull sound of bullets piercing through the armour plates, the guerrilla’s technicals[1] exploded with a burst of flames.

The sniping signalled the start of a simultaneous attack.

Rutaganda broke into the base with surprising dash power, guiding two attack helicopter-type drones via brainwave control. Even if the opponents were poor guerrillas, the level of difficulty of the operation was completely different with or without air cover.

It’s not as if he had a semi-mechanised body for show. Rutaganda could run 100 metres in about six seconds and jump up to five metres at a time with a running start. He made the most of these physical abilities, using them to climb over the walls of the ruins and penetrate the depths of the base.

The mercenary soon spotted the guerrilla electronic warfare vehicles, which were loaded with modified ECM pods — a cutting-edge model used by the Japanese Border Defence System Air Force. These devices may have been removed from a fighter aircraft crashed for an incident or stolen — either way, the guerrillas would not have been able to handle such high-tech equipment without the tactical advisor in question. Nicholas’ government forces had suffered greatly as a result.

Guerrilla engineers and their guards had gathered around the vehicle to activate the ECMs. Rutaganda, holding a compact assault rifle, a carbine model, fired a short series of rapid shots. Bursts of fully automatic fire, separated by finger control. Two to three bullets were fired each time he pulled the trigger. By the time the magazine of 30 rounds was empty, there would be exactly 10 dead bodies.

The reinforced exoskeletons piloted by Weber and Babangida destroyed the barricade the guerrillas had built.

Machine guns and rocket launchers roared, blowing away guerrillas who had recognised the gunfire and jumped out of the way. Dozens of them were reduced to pieces of blood and flesh all at once.

[Bun, you too, over here.]  

Rutaganda radioed.

“Roger.”

Bun, in the middle of his sniping task, took flight with his jetpack strapped to his back. Looking down on the entire village from above, he continued to fire his sniper rifle, supported by his robotic arm.

A small number of guerrilla fighters took out RPG-29 anti-tank missiles, which would have destroyed the reinforced exoskeletons in a direct hit. But the soldier holding the RPGs became the target of Bun’s sniper fire. The incendiary armour-piercing rounds he was using not only penetrated the enemy but also set them on fire. They could shatter bodies or make huge holes in them and set people on fire.

2

Kougami and Tsunemori run through the base of the disoriented resistance forces. Shacks and arms depots were blown up by machine gun fire from the attack helicopter-type drones. The men of the resistance forces first allowed women, children and the elderly to take refuge in caves.

“This way of doing things is different from those we have dealt with before!” Kougami said in a loud voice.

“How is it different?” Tsunemori asked.

“They aren’t relying on drones. They’re highly trained special forces. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The two of them emerged into the square of the ancient ruins complex. From there, a road led in several directions.

Sem raced towards them in a military jeep.

“Sem! The ECMs?”

“They’ve been blocked! The enemy got ahead of us!”

It was then that Kougami realised the situation. After careful reconnaissance, the enemy had launched a surprise attack. Those guys have more advanced equipment than the government forces. As close to the ‘Japanese army’ as possible — something the resistance forces had not expected.

“Sem, we’ll have her escape. Back me up.”

 “Kougami-san!?”

At Kougami’s words, Tsunemori’s eyes widened.

Sem gave a nod and got out of the jeep.

Kougami asked Tsunemori to get in instead.

“You need to leave without me.”

As he was saying this, Kougami was handed an assault rifle and a grenade launcher by another guerrilla.

The man, who had been on the verge of sleep earlier, was carrying only a revolver for self-defence.

“I’m not leaving alone!”

“Your criminal investigation may lead us to catch Han for his crimes. It’s an opportunity for us. Return to Shambala and continue your mission.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry. Do you think I would die so easily?”

As he said this, Kougami wore a smile on his manly face.

“If we both survive this, come and catch me again.”

“…sure!”            　

Sem handed Tsunemori an electromagnetic pulse grenade.

She took it, glanced back and got into the jeep.

Kougami started running with Sem.

After separating from Tsunemori, Sem took his motorbike. Kougami and Sem, riding fast together on the bike, headed for the vehicles with the ECM pods. First, the helicopter-type attack drones above them had to be eliminated, or they wouldn’t have been able to counterattack or retreat. Had they been able to activate ECM, they could have disrupted the enemy’s coordination through communication jamming[2], noise jamming[3] and deception jamming[4].

Instead, huge machine-gun rounds rained down on the two men as they moved. They were from Weber and Babangida’s powered suits. For the moment, they had no choice but to flee. Kougami, who was driving, tilted the motorbike and quickly changed direction with an accelerated turn. He tried to get as far away from the powered suits as possible. But as soon as he slowed down to change direction, Sem, who was riding behind him, jumped off.

“Go! Kougami.”

“Sem, come along!”

“I can’t abandon a friend!

“Tsk!” Kougami clicked his tongue — Stop, you’ll die.

Sem. You’re not the type to die here.

Kougami rode the motorbike, worried, and eventually braked in the middle. He got off the bike and prepared the grenade launcher.

He didn’t make it in time.

Along with other soldiers fighting back, Sem was hit by a machine gun shell. With one shot, most of his upper body disappeared. No need to check, it was instant death.

“Sem…!”

— Such a man eliminated so easily!

Kougami shook with anger and clenched his teeth.

This was no time for shock.

He aimed the grenade launcher at the powered suits — .

At that moment, a moving antenna like a ‘scorpion tail’ attacked. Despite its name, it was almost as strong as steel and had a sharp hook at the end. Unable to dodge it, he quickly blocked the hook with his weapon.

“Thwap!”[5]

The grenade launcher was destroyed by the scorpion tail.

Yulia, dressed in a stealth suit, appeared in front of Kougami with a knife at the ready.

— Why doesn’t this female mercenary shoot me, even though she has a gun?

Kougami wondered as he dodged the knife attack by striking her wrist with his palm heel. If she has a weapon, she wouldn’t normally try to fight in close combat.

Then he realised — Maybe the order was ‘Don’t kill the Japanese’.

Kougami jumped back and paused, trying to use his assault rifle, which hang from a sling, but Yulia broke in earlier. To push her away, he hit her with a front kick, stamping with the back of his foot.

The woman dodged his front kick and swung her knife in a half turn. Kougami dodged the attack by lowering his head and countered with a low turning kick. Yulia used her shin to parry the lower kick and promptly kicked backwards.

Kougami bent his upper body to avoid her powerful move, then held Yulia’s knife-holding arm with his left hand while delivering a single backfist with his right.

Yulia deflected it with her left forearm.

— She is no ordinary woman.

In terms of fistfights, it was rare for Kougami to find an opponent he couldn’t defeat with that number of moves.

(... Have the government forces spared no expense in hiring a group of top soldiers?!)

Kougami couldn’t hide his surprise that such a unit would be working on a freelance basis.

3

Bun repeatedly shot from above while flying with his jetpack.

He reported by radio.

“Target Delta sighted. Should I fire?”

Delta — the code name for Kougami Shinya.

[Wait] Rutaganda’s voice said from the receiver. [What about target Juliet?]

Juliet — Tsunemori Akane.

Tsunemori was sitting in the passenger seat of the military jeep driven by a middle-aged guerrilla. When the helicopter-type attack drones approached, she did not hesitate to use the electromagnetic pulse grenade. The explosion of the electromagnetic waves sent sparks flying from the drones. One crashed, but the another held on. Tsunemori moved to the rear of the jeep and unlocked the safety of the heavy machine gun mounted on the vehicle. The fusillade of 14.5 mm rounds blew off the second aircraft as well.

[She got me. She’s getting away.]

Rutaganda said.

“Juliet, do you want me to chase her... ?”

[No, it’s too late. Go after Delta instead. I’ll be right there.]

Bun detached his jetpack and landed directly in front of Kougami, joining Yulia in a two-on-one battle against the Japanese.

The Thai man fell from the sky, his face close to his shoulders, his jaw protected, a high stance. A Muay Thai[6] fighter, recognisable at a glance. The moment he touched down, he filled the gap and delivered a kick. A powerful kick — the Dtae Kan Core[7] (high kick), which is swung raising the pivot heel.

Kougami parried it with his forearm.

Matching the timing, the Russian woman delivered an oblique kick. Kougami blocked the kick with his shin and returned it with a jab.

Not only were they well equipped with high-tech gear; they were also well trained from head to toe. A Thai man and a Russian woman, a good combination.

He dodged the Russian’s knife and elbow-striked the Thai. The attack and defence continued without the slightest distraction.

It’s rather good, Kougami thought. I appreciate enemies who deliberately challenge me to a fight, no matter how tough they are. Now that I know the other side wants to catch me alive, I can take more risks. Once these two are defeated, I’ll have my way…

“Ugh” Kougami landed a front kick to the Russian woman’s stomach.

Hit in the gut, the woman was blown away.

The Thai then punched him to cover her. Reading the attack, Kougami grabbed the Thai's neck and elbow, locked him in a joint lock and threw him to the ground.

The Thai hit the Russian woman Kougami had just knocked out. The two were tangled together, exposing the back of their heads, completely vulnerable.

The next moment, Kougami lifted his leg — to trample them down and deliver the final blow.

“Tsk!”

A large man rushed in from the side with incredible speed.

Rutaganda also attacked Kougami.            

Yulia and Bun were two, and yet they were about to lose. He was secretly impressed and wondered if such an incredible man existed. That’s awesome!

— I LOVE GUYS LIKE YOU!

Bun, who had been thrown to the ground, was about to be kicked in the back of the head when Rutaganda intervened. Kougami had good instincts and jumped back quickly when he sensed the danger. Rutaganda kicked the ground and took another step forward.

Close combat.

After a quick punch with his human left hand — which he deliberately allowed Kougami to block — he unleashed his likely winning right hook. Rutaganda’s right arm was made of a special alloy. Kougami caught this right hook with his left arm.

Rutaganda blew him away with his entire guard.

“!”

With a deep groan, Kougami rolled to the ground.

Rutaganda went after him.

Kougami stood up and delivered a spinning kick in the style of capoeira.

At the critical moment, Rutaganda stopped the kick with his elbow.

(It was quite something to kick back from that position.)

Rutaganda grabbed Kougami’s wrist. It was difficult to take the joint. Kougami then shook off Rutaganda’s joint lock technique and turned it into an elbow joint. —  A mistake on Kougami’s part. He must have instinctively returned the joint lock to the opponent. Rutaganda’s right arm wasn’t that easy to break. Kougami’s movement stopped when he failed to overcome the special alloy prosthetic arm.

Rutaganda delivered a low kick with his left leg, which, like his right arm, was made of a special alloy.

The strong kick overturned Kougami.

Kougami hit the ground with his back. Finally, there was an opening.

Rutaganda grabbed Kougami’s neck with his right hand, then put his knee on Kougami’s stomach and started pressing.

“…You’re quite something.”

“If you let me live, you’ll regret it…!”

“Terrifying. Unfortunately, we have some important questions to ask you.”

Squeezing his carotid artery, Rutaganda easily knocked Kougami unconscious.

4

— The enemy’s pursuit seemed completely forgotten.

Having separated from the guerrilla soldier who had been her driver, Tsunemori was now driving the military jeep alone. She crossed the forest, running fast on the bad roads to the glittering Shambala Float.

“The gunfire has stopped…”

The fight was over.

Who won? In this situation, the result was obvious.

Tsunemori had a faint expectation that Kougami would go after her with an innocent air, but that seemed a little too optimistic.

— No matter what, Kougami Shinya is not the type to die in a place like that. Somehow, I can be sure of that. Of course, I can’t shake off the anxiety. There are no ‘absolutes’ in the field where lives are at stake. I just want to believe that he will be all right. To think that we were separated like that in Japan, reunited after so many years, and then immediately separated again in combat — .

“Kougami-san…”

She murmured involuntarily, as if praying.

NOTES TO TRANSLATION:

[1] Technical is a neologism for a non-standard tactical vehicle (NSTV) in United States military parlance, a light improvised fighting vehicle, typically an open-backed civilian pickup truck or four-wheel drive vehicle modified to mount small arms, light weapons  and heavy weaponry, such as a machine gun, automatic grenade launcher, anti-aircraft autocannon, rotary cannon, anti-tank weapon, anti-tank gun, anti-tank guided missiles, mortar, multiple rocket launcher, recoilless rifle, or other support weapon (somewhat like a light military gun truck or potentially even a self-propelled gun). (from Wikipedia)

[2] Communication jamming: An attack that attempts to interfere with the reception of broadcast communications.

[3] Noise jamming: It’s the simplest form of jamming that works by overwhelming the target radar with a large amount of noise, making it very difficult to find any actual radar returns within the cone of effect.

[4] Deception jamming: Deception jamming is an electronic warfare technique that aims to fool radars into believing that the target is in a different location than it really is, or that there are more targets than there really are.

[5] Thwap: a loud, heavy, slapping impact or the sound made by such an impact.

[6] Muay Thai: martial art also known as Thai boxing, characterised by stand-up striking, sweeps, and various clinching techniques.

[7] Dtae Kan Core: this muay thai move is also called high kick or kick to the neck. (from Thai Boxing Terms)

translation by cleverwolfpoetry @ https://cleverwolfpoetry.tumblr.com/

PLEASE, NO REPOSTS OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR.

[kathlare]

clock is ticking

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: With her best friend Minnie challenging her to face the truth, Amelie confronts the depth of her insecurities and the weight of her past.

Wordcount: 3.3| k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 5th, 2020 - Maui, Hawaii

Amelie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting her outfit for the night. The sheer white dress she’d chosen clung to her curves in all the right ways, making her feel simultaneously confident and nervous. The last few days of filming for The White Lotus had been incredible, and now, she was about to attend the wrap party, but her mind kept drifting back to something much more complicated: Lando.

She turned the blow dryer off and ran a hand through her hair, the breeze from the fan drying it quickly. The warm Maui air hung heavy with a mixture of tropical scents from outside her hotel room, but the stillness inside the room only amplified the tension she felt. The silence was broken when her phone buzzed from the bedside table.

Minnie, lounging on the bed with her legs spread out in every direction like a cat, reached for the phone before Amelie could even react. She let out a little huff of disapproval.

—Why are you ignoring Lando?— Minnie asked casually, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Amelie froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She turned around quickly, panic rising in her chest, and tried to snatch the phone away from Minnie’s hands.

—Give me that!— Amelie lunged, her fingers brushing the edges of the phone, but Minnie was too quick, holding the device just out of her reach. Minnie tilted the phone toward herself, eyes scanning the screen with a playful grin.

Minnie’s eyes widened mid-scroll, the smile on her face dropping like a brick.

—YOU KISSED HIM?— she screeched, louder than necessary.

—Shut up! Shut the fuck up— Amelie hissed, launching herself onto the bed and straight on top of Minnie. Her legs tangled with the comforter as she wrestled for the phone, but Minnie held it high above her head, completely unfazed.

—YOU. KISSED. LANDO— Minnie repeated, like she was trying to process it in real time, stretching each word like a rubber band ready to snap. —You said you were just friends! Like a million times! What the hell, Amelie?!—

Amelie collapsed face-first into the mattress, groaning. —Because we are! Kind of. Ugh. It’s not what you think.—

Minnie blinked at her. —So explain to me what exactly I am supposed to think when my best friend is playing tonsil hockey with a Formula One driver and ghosting him.—

Amelie finally sat up, her hair now a frizzy halo around her flushed face. She crossed her legs and yanked a pillow into her lap, holding it like a shield.

—Okay, first of all, I’m not ghosting him— Amelie muttered, voice defensive but soft. —I’m just… not talking to him right now.—

Minnie raised both eyebrows and flopped back against the pillows. —Right. Because that’s not the literal definition of ghosting.—

Amelie sighed, tugging the pillow tighter against her chest like it could somehow block out Minnie’s judgmental glare. —It’s complicated, okay?— she mumbled. —Everything with you and Lando is complicated,— Minnie shot back. —But this? You kissed him multiple times, apparently, and now you’re ignoring his texts? That’s a dick move, babe.— Amelie winced, guilt crawling up her throat like bile. She dropped her head against the pillow, muffling her next words. —He stayed after the guys left. Charles, George, Alex… they went back to Europe. And he stayed. Just for me.— Minnie narrowed her eyes. —Yeah, because he likes you. Literally everyone sees it but you.— Amelie didn’t say anything right away. Her fingers traced the edge of the pillow, a nervous tic she hadn’t shaken since she was a kid. Finally, she whispered: —I kissed him first.— Minnie sat up like she’d been electrocuted. —Wait, what?— —I kissed him. More than once. It was… I don’t know. It felt like everything I’d been avoiding just exploded. We were alone for two days, and it was perfect. It felt so easy and right and... God, Minnie.—

—So why the fuck are you hiding in Hawaii like a coward?— Minnie asked, not unkindly, but blunt enough to make Amelie wince again. —Because… I don’t want to hurt him.— Minnie stared at her, confused. —Babe, I’m gonna need you to explain that like I’m five.— Amelie looked down at her lap. Her voice, when it came, was small. Fragile. —I’ve hurt people before. I didn’t mean to, but I did. After Cam...— her throat caught, and Minnie’s face softened immediately. —I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again. And then there was Shawn, and that was so messy. Then Cam and I… finally got it right. And then he was just gone.— Minnie reached for her hand, squeezing gently. —I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything again. And then Lando just… showed up. Like this loud, sweet, annoying British boy who somehow made me laugh again. I thought maybe it was Cam, sending him. I still do sometimes.— —So you’re punishing him for showing up?— Minnie asked gently. Amelie shook her head. —I’m scared. I can’t mess him up, Min. I can’t be messed up. Not with the food stuff coming back again, and filming every damn day, and being halfway across the world while he’s risking his life going 300 km/h every weekend.

Minnie stayed quiet for a beat, her fingers tightening slightly around Amelie’s hand. The hotel room buzzed with the faint hum of the air conditioner and the muffled laughter of people already heading to the party downstairs. But inside, it felt like the rest of the world had gone quiet.

—You’re not messed up,— Minnie said softly. —You’re scared. That’s different.—

Amelie blinked fast, her lashes fluttering against her cheek as she tried to keep herself together.

—What if I ruin him?— she whispered. —What if he wakes up one day and realizes he deserves someone easier? Someone who doesn’t shut down or flinch when he touches her stomach, or who doesn’t freak out over dumb things like not answering a text?—

Minnie leaned back against the headboard, sighing like she’d been through this war before. —Then he’s not the guy we all think he is. But honestly? I don’t think that’s Lando. You know that, too. Or you wouldn’t have kissed him.—

Amelie chewed her lip, the silence dragging out long enough to feel like it was wrapping around her throat.

—I didn’t plan it,— she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. —We were just… watching the sunset. And he looked at me, like really looked at me. Not like I was this actress or this… fragile girl who needed fixing. Just me. And before I could think, I was kissing him. And then I kept doing it. Again. And again. And he didn’t stop me. He kissed me back like he’d been waiting for it forever.—

Minnie let out a long, low whistle. —Jesus. That boy’s in deep, huh?—

Amelie nodded, eyes distant, lips pressed together like she was trying to trap the memory behind them. —Yeah,— she whispered. —He looked so happy. Like he couldn’t believe it was happening. And for those two days, I let myself believe it too.—

Minnie groaned and let her head fall back dramatically onto the headboard. —You’re giving me a migraine. You kissed the boy. You like the boy. He clearly likes you. What the fuck is the problem?—

Amelie pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. —Because the second it gets real, I panic. And he… he’s so good, Minnie. He’s soft with me. He listens. He never pushes, even when I know he wants to. And I keep thinking about how if I let myself fall all the way, I’m gonna crash so fucking hard.—

Minnie stared at her, exasperated. —You're already falling, babe. You’re just clawing at the edge trying to stop it. And for what? To protect him? To protect you? Because let’s be honest, you’re both already in it. You’re just the only one pretending you're not.—

Amelie’s phone buzzed again. Another message. Lando. She didn’t even need to look to know.

Minnie reached for it, but this time Amelie didn’t lunge. She just closed her eyes.

—He asked if I was coming to Silverstone,— she said quietly. —I told him I couldn’t because of filming. But I could have gone. I cancelled the trip the night after he left Maui. I didn’t even tell him I’d changed my mind.—

Minnie’s mouth parted, stunned. —You lied?—

—I freaked out,— Amelie said, voice thin. —He was leaving and he hugged me and I felt like if I said the wrong thing, I’d ruin everything. And then I saw the way he looked at me like he didn’t want to leave. And instead of saying something honest, I ghosted him. I didn’t know how to be normal after that.—

Minnie slowly passed her the phone, her voice softer now. —Do you think he’s mad?—

—I think he’s hurt,— Amelie said. —And confused. Because I made him feel like it meant something. And it did. But I left him with silence. And I hate myself for it.—

She turned the phone face down on the bed, staring at the white sheets.

Minnie sat up straighter, folding her legs under herself. —Okay. Real talk. You’re not the only person in the world scared of getting hurt. But you don’t get to kiss someone, give them hope, and then hide behind your trauma like a shield. You have to deal with your shit and stop making it his job to guess what’s going on in your head.—

Amelie opened her mouth to argue, but Minnie raised a hand.

—No. Let me finish. You think you’re protecting him, but what you’re really doing is making choices for him. You’re not giving him the chance to choose you, flaws and all. And that’s not fair.—

The silence stretched. Outside the balcony doors, the sound of the ocean whispered against the shore. Amelie swallowed hard.

She twisted the edge of the sheet in her fingers, her voice barely audible.

—But what if he chooses wrong? What if choosing me ruins him? I ruin everything I touch, Min. You know that.—

Minnie shook her head, her tone calm but firm. —That’s not true. You didn’t ruin Cam. You didn’t ruin Shawn. Life happened. And you sure as hell didn’t ruin Lando. He’s still texting you, isn’t he? Still waiting for you to say something. That doesn’t sound like a guy who's ruined. That sounds like someone who gives a shit.—

Amelie bit the inside of her cheek, tears beginning to sting behind her eyes.

—I keep thinking about what Callum would say if he knew. He’d fucking lose it. And Stella? She already thinks I’m a walking disaster. I don’t want to drag him into my mess. I don’t want him to regret knowing me.—

Minnie scoffed. —First of all, fuck what Callum and Stella would say. This isn’t about them. It’s about you and Lando. And second… babe, you don’t get to decide if someone regrets knowing you. That’s their choice. You don’t get to push him away just because you’re scared you’re not enough. He already thinks you are.—

Amelie stood suddenly, moving toward the mirror again. She couldn’t look at her reflection—only at her hands, trembling as they toyed with the zipper of her dress.

—I don’t know how to be in something real anymore,— she whispered. —Not without fucking it up.—

Minnie stood, coming up behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror.

—Then tell him that,— she said softly. —Be honest. Be messy. Be scared. But be real with him. You don’t have to promise forever. Just don’t keep lying to yourself like you’re doing him a favor. He deserves better than silence. Hell, you both do.—

Amelie turned back around, her voice cracking on the words.

—I can’t be the reason he breaks. He’s got this bright future, this whole world ahead of him. And I’m... barely keeping myself together most days. If he falls for me, really falls, and I fall apart again, I don’t know if I’ll survive being the thing that hurts him.—

Minnie stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

—Then maybe don’t fall apart. Or maybe do, and let him help you pick up the pieces. But stop running like love is a goddamn plague. You think you’re too broken, but babe... everyone’s broken. That’s not what makes you unlovable. It just makes you human.—

The tears broke through this time. Silent, hot, and fast down Amelie’s cheeks.

She pulled away, wiping at her face with the edge of her sleeve.

—No. I’ve made my decision.— Her voice was shaky but certain. —I’m going to friendzone him. For real this time. He deserves more. He deserves someone whole. Someone easy. Not someone who forgets to eat when she’s anxious, or someone who kisses him and then disappears across the ocean.—

Minnie blinked. —Wait, what?—

—I’m doing it,— Amelie said, trying to convince herself now more than Minnie. —I’ll tell him we can’t be anything more. That I panicked. That I didn’t mean it.—

Minnie grabbed her wrist. —You did mean it.—

Amelie looked away. —But it doesn’t matter. He deserves better. He deserves someone who doesn’t bring their dead boyfriend’s ghost into the room every time she tries to love someone new. He deserves someone who doesn't turn cold every time he touches her stomach because all she can think about is how ugly she feels inside her own body. He deserves someone… who isn’t me.—

The room went still again.

Minnie didn’t say anything. She just looked at her best friend—the girl she’d watched grow up, fall apart, heal, and fall apart again—and realized that nothing she said was going to change her mind tonight.

So instead, she said quietly, —Okay. If that’s what you need to do… I’ll be here. But I hope one day you let someone love you the way you deserve to be loved. Even if it’s not Lando.—

Amelie nodded, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.

She picked up her phone, turned it on, and stared at the screen.

Lan: Hope your shoot’s going well. Silverstone isn’t the same without you. Let me know if you’re okay.

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she turned off the phone, set it face-down on the nightstand, and said—

—Let’s go to the party.—

But even as she walked toward the door, Minnie noticed the slight tremble in her hands… and the heartbreak buried in her eyes.

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

liked by minniemills, landonorris, and others

ameliedayman: maui on film

View all 91,012 comments

elysiadayman: you forgot to post the one where you nearly fell off the paddleboard 😭💀 → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman because you took it at the worst moment??? rude.

alexwolffofficial: give the camera to someone else next time, I beg → ameliedayman: @alexwolffofficial ur just mad I cropped you out xx

lanmelieupdates: LANDO LIKED WITHIN 10 SECONDS IM SHAKING → mclarenfemme: @lanmelieupdates he’s on notifications don’t play → gridgossipqueen: @lanmelieupdates the way he didn’t comment tho… weird behavior

f1fangirlz: why is no one talking about pic 3... the bikini one... HE SAW THAT → charleslemonade: @f1fangirlz lando took that. idc there’s no proof but i know → f1.sluttycorner: @f1fangirlz you can see her smiling at someone off camera. i’m sick

daymanangel: she’s glowing like she’s in love. don’t ask me for sources. → paddocktea: @paddocktea source is my delusion → softboilan: @paddocktea delusion or not, i agree

joshrichards: drop the real film roll coward → ameliedayman: @joshrichards u mean the ones of u throwing up off the boat? → joshrichards: @ameliedayman … fair.

georgerussell63: nice pics. who’s the mystery photographer tho 👀 → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 pls stop stirring

ameliesangelz: you just KNOW he was the one who took that third pic → landoslaugh: @ameliesangelz and made her pose for like 20 mins straight 💀

f1.sluttycorner: lando liking but not commenting is crazy like sir??? you used to write poems about her on cod

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

The elevator dinged softly as it reached Amelie’s floor, and she stumbled out, heels in one hand, her white dress slightly rumpled and her curls a little looser than they’d been when she left. The wrap party had been fun. Loud, glittering, and full of celebration. She’d danced too much, drank too much, laughed until her cheeks ached. It should have been the perfect distraction.

But Lando was still there. Not at the party — in her head.

Amelie pushed open the door to her hotel room and sighed into the quiet. The faint hum of the AC, the rustle of the palm trees outside, the whisper of the ocean. All of it wrapped around her like a reminder of what she’d been trying to outrun.

She dropped her shoes by the door, pulled her hair tie loose, and flopped face-first onto the bed with a dramatic groan. Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Lando.

With a tipsy groan, she rolled onto her side and blindly reached for the phone, squinting against the screen’s glow as it lit up her face in the dark.

Lan: Hope the wrap party went well. You looked amazing.

She hadn’t posted anything. He must’ve seen a tagged photo.

Lan: Let me know when you’re free. I’d really like to talk.

She sucked in a breath and opened the thread fully, fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled.

Message after message. Some short. Some long. Some teasing. Some gentle.

Lan: How was your day today? Lan: I know you’re probably exhausted but I just wanted to say I miss you already. Lan: Hope today went okay. Don’t forget to eat. Lan: Is everything alright? You’ve gone quiet. Lan: I didn’t say anything wrong, did I? If I did, just tell me. Please. Lan: I get it if you’re not ready. I just… wish you’d talk to me.

The screen blurred slightly. Her lashes fluttered against damp cheeks. She didn’t remember starting to cry.

She blinked hard, sniffled once, then propped herself up enough to grab a pillow and hug it tightly to her chest. The ache in her throat was sharp. Familiar.

She tapped into the message bar, typed quickly.

Ames: Lando, I—

Deleted.

Started again.

Ames: Hey. I think we should talk.

Deleted.

Ames: I’m sorry for kissing you.

Deleted.

Ames: It was a mistake.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

She stared at the blinking cursor, willing the right words to come. Willing her heart to shut up.

Instead, she typed—

Ames: You’re important to me. But maybe this shouldn’t

She pressed her thumb to the screen. Hovered over “Send.” But her hand wouldn’t move. Her whole body rebelled.

The thought of pressing it, of watching those dots pop up and disappear, of hurting him even more than she already had—it made her stomach twist.

—I can’t do this over text,— she muttered aloud to no one.

The alcohol hadn’t worn off yet. Just enough left to make her bold. Reckless. Human.

Before she could overthink it, Amelie rolled off the bed, staggered a little, then dragged her MacBook out of her tote bag.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, heart pounding louder with every click.

Los Angeles (LAX) → Barcelona (BCN) One-way Departure: August 10th, 2020

She hesitated for one long breath.

Then she hit Purchase.

The confirmation email hit her inbox before she even closed the tab.

She exhaled, slow and shaky, and stared at her reflection in the dark window across the room. Her curls were a mess. Her mascara smudged. Her mouth pressed into a tired, uncertain line.

She wasn’t ready to face him. Not really.

But she was going to. In person. Like she should have weeks ago.

Not tonight. Tonight she could still pretend. Still hide.

But the clock was ticking now.

And somewhere on the other side of the ocean, Lando was still waiting.

She shut the laptop, curled into the pillow, and whispered into the dark.

—Please don’t hate me.—

Then, finally, she slept.

[vague-humanoid]

BEIRUT — An eye doctor in Lebanon said he has treated some 40 to 50 people with serious injuries, including some who lost both eyes, after a wave of communication device explosions targeted members of the militant group Hezbollah this week, killing dozens.

“We’ve never seen that much cases of patients and casualties that have been losing their eyes because of explosions,” Dr. Elias Warrak told NBC News. “It’s a nightmare.”

Thousands of pagers and walkie-talkies used by Hezbollah operatives exploded almost simultaneously across the country in an attack this week, killing at least 37 people, including two children, and injuring nearly 3,000. The majority of those injured were civilians, Lebanon’s health minister said Friday.

[smithcollegegirls2004]

computer popped up with the choose what to do with your device prompt while we were watching tv on the projector and we just both shouted EXPLODE simultaneously

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

One of the few universal rules with no known exceptions is that the surefire way to get wall-to-wall coverage of your conflict is to have the Jews as your enemy. A real genocide in western China or in Ethiopia can never compete with an imaginary one invented by Westerners to tarnish Israel’s reputation.

But there’s another reason to prefer Israel as your enemy in battle, as the current war demonstrates.

Over the weekend, CBS’s 60 Minutes ran a feature on Israel’s pager attack against Hezbollah in September, in which thousands of Israeli-detonated beepers held by Hezbollah operatives exploded simultaneously.

“Using dummies, Mossad conducted tests with the pager in a padded glove to calibrate the grams of explosive needed to be just enough to hurt the fighter, but not the person next to him,” Lesley Stahl says as viewers see a demonstration of such a test on the screen.

It’s no surprise that the plot, which unfolded over a number of years and required creating and marketing a new product and then enticing Hezbollah to buy it, was precise in every detail. “Mossad also tested these ringtones to find a sound urgent enough to compel someone to take it out of their pocket,” Stahl reports, as a medley of beeper tunes plays. “And they tested how long it takes a person to answer a pager—on average, seven seconds.”

But the fact that that precision included shielding civilians from thousands of blasts miles away is remarkable. As security-camera footage of some of the pager explosions shows on the screen, Stahl says: “Watch the man on the left. Those standing next to him were unscathed.”

This level of care and precision was on display in late July as well. When Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh was assassinated by an explosive device planted in his room in Tehran, his next-door neighbor—the head of fellow Gazan terrorist group Palestinian Islamic Jihad—was unharmed.

The salient point is that this care is standard practice for Israel. On the same day that CBS ran its feature on the pager plot, Jewish News Syndicate published a story by Yaakov Lappin on how Israeli military planners have rearranged aid routes into Gaza to help the convoys avoid looters.

[whynotjohnlock]

Pocket Doctor

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

It would be so easy to burst out in laughter at the sight- the sight of The oncoming storm, last of the time lords, the nightmare of monsters, destroyer of the Daleks and Cybermen, The Doctor, in all his glory-

5 centimeters tall. (that's also 3 inches for any of you using the metric system)

And that is exactly what (Y/N) had found themself doing for the past hour. Curled up and on the floor from big spasms of glee and amusement, laughing so hard that tears shed from their eyes.

The Doctor was very tired to listening to his companion. "It's not that funny!"

The words where said in a exasperated manor and a very serious tone of voce, and would- if they were not in such a squeaky higher tone- would have snaped (Y/N) out of it. Unfortunately for him, they were, and his companion doubled over again in a fit of giggles.

"It's just- just- just you always have like a deep, serious voice and you go on and on about life and death choices all the time. You look so adorable with your little attack eyebrows and scowl. And- And-"

The doctor covered his ears, preparing for another onslaught of chuckles, but was sorely unprepared for the look of adoration in (Y/N)'s eyes.

"Now you're just my personal little Cynamon roll." Very carefully and softly his companion lifted him off the TARDIS console and cupped him in there hands as if they held the world's greatest most prized treasure. "My own tiny pocket doctor." Mystified glossy (Color) eyes filled with acceptance looked at the Timelord with an immeasurable amount of love. "If anything, and I do mean anything, happened to you now, I would kill everyone on this planet and then myself."

For a few moments the doctor was entirely content with being 5 centimeters tall, just absorbing the warmth that flooded his body that radiated from your fingertips, along with the metaphorical kind that flew to his hearts when he saw the smile that he would have destroyed galaxies for.

(Y/N) did not want to break the spell of silence that had befallen them but knew the world waiting outside needed them and hesitantly spoke. "Alright, how do we fix this?"

The doctor snaped out of his wonderful trance and started pacing around (Y/N)'s hand. "Ok, OK- let's see. I was hit with an de-molecular phaser-gun-thing that acted as a size altering ray, hence me being as tall as your thumb." turning quickly on his feet the doctor pointed at the alien device that you assumed turned him into this fragile state.

"Bring me over there!"

The steps where quite easy for you, but your pocket doctor almost fell out of your hand and into the abyss, completely unprepared to have the ground shift and change so quickly.

"Slowly! I'm not nearly as durable as I was."

So, from that point on (Y/N) was excruciatingly careful to protect their treasure from any harm. The doctor hopped off his companion's hand and onto the desk with the phaser gun. "Now the thing about an old device like this is that I got it from a little shop. I love a good shop!" (Twelve your eleven is showing)

"I love shops too doctor, but what does this have to do with the shrink ray?"

"It means good old devices always have a way to reverse their effects if you re-hardwire them correctly. I need you to grab the sonic glasses and set them to setting 4."

"Alright now what?"

"Now I need you to press the button and think about the suspended animation power cells being reversed to create an opposing effect."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Just think about reversing the shrinking, and the screwdriver will do the rest."

(Y/N) slowly, as to not terrorize her pocket doctor, did as they were told and yelped when the machine sort of half exploded and simultaneously burst into flames.

"I said reverse it, not blow it up!"

"Sorry, I was too busy thing about how we all die in the end! I'll try not to overthink next time!"

The doctor facepalmed his tiny little head and sighed, muttering a few curses in his native tongue. Silence fell over the room once more, this time filled with panic and dread of what had to happen next.

"Doctor, we need to help them, the scyorax I mean. they're still being hunted by the daleks out there."

"I know."

"Come on, you can ride in my jacket pocket doctor, but we need to save them. We can worry about this mess later, but right now we need to help these aliens in need of rescuing."

"Allright, I suppose this can wait."

The thrill of the unknown filled your veins, and you were sure at that you looked like a junkie chasing after an adrenalin rush. without a moment's hesitation you snatched the oncoming storm and placed him in your left trench coat pocket and opened the TARDIS doors in utter delight.

"Ready to pretend to know what where doing, talk quickly, hope something happens and take credit?"

From the corner of your eye, you can see your pocket doctor with scraggily grey hair peep his head out from your coat and smile.

"Always."

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

Hope you enjoyed! if you want you can ask for a part two, but if not, I'm just going to keep this as a stand-alone one-shot.

P.S. I also take requests if any of you lovelies have ideas :)

[cyguybetatest-v01]

Oh, would you really do that for lil ol' me?

[Vespa had arrived at her destination, a shady little area underneath a bridge that overlooked a small river that split the forest in half. It was a part of a greater path that was used for trade through the Reptile District, cutting through one of the bigger towns and leading out of the district to the next one over. It was quiet, the gentle rushing of the water the only sound that filled the air.]

Well, now I'm not even gonna wanna try… Just kidding! We'll make it a competition. Winner has to share their code ;)

[She gave her small device one last small smile before glancing around her surroundings. He was supposed to be here by n]

"Ghhfk-!!!"

[A large hand shot out from the overgrown foliage, rattling the giant cattails and fronds that sprouted from the moist soil at the water's edge, gripping the small insectoid animalia with suffocating force.]

"Damn! You actually came! How stupid are you?"

[Vespa gasped for air, straining against the cursing force of the fingers around her body. She slowly wriggled her fingers around the handle of Stinger while the brute sneered and berated her, prying her small satchel of belongings away from her.]

"Ohoho mann, this micro shit's gonna fetch me a fortune. The scene for this stuff is so hot right now… I could probably-OW!!"

[The inch-long dagger drove to the hilt in its target, agonizingly slow as it's weilder hadn't the strength for a proper stab. Vespa was released - or rather, thrown - by her captor, who nursed his wounded hand with rage.]

"Gah! You bitch!!"

[The larger figured blubbered while Vespa wiped at her mouth, removing the bit of spittle that had formed during the initial assault. Her eyes held venom as she staggered into the air, her damaged wings struggling to remain steady.]

"Not stupid. Figured there was a 50/50 chance this was a trap; just didn't think you'd be so cowardly to ambush someone ten times less your size."

[In a split second, she was gone, impossibly fast in her condition. The offending brute was stunned but for a second, before the sensation of a hundred razor blades exploded on his face and arms. Simultaneously, his own pack was opened and picked, and when the attack was over he stumbled to the ground, overwhelmed and covered in red.]

[Vespa stood at a distance, a large device strapped to her back. She was breathing heavily and nursing an arm, bruises already forming under her clothes.]

"You bitch."

[And she was gone, disappearing into the treetops, traveling as far as she could from the scene before collapsing on a secluded branch.]

-🐜

Hah, Deal! I'm sure I could get it done before ya, Beta's already got his primaries mostly ;)!!!

[Since the rest of the commotion didn't quite translate over to text, it just seemed like Ves had gone quiet on their end.]

[But it seems like a certain little critter was getting antsy, under stimulated.]

[And it looks like it found something]

"..........."

[>Forceload Mic_Input]

[It went quiet, as nothing seemed to happen for a bit- Except the soft audio of keys clacking and tip typing away.]

[A twitch of gills as it silently dug a bit deeper.]

"......................"

[>Forceload Mic_Input 203.42.83.210]

"-his micro shit's gonna fetch me a fortune. The scene for this stuff is so hot right now… I could probably-OW!!""

"Not stupid. Figured there was a 50/50 chance this was a trap; just didn't think you'd be so cowardly to ambush someone ten times less your size."

"You bitch"

[That's new.]

[mikailborg]

Fanfic story premise, which I am writing down in hopes it will help me think of an ending:

Lupin the Third is commissioned to steal George Pal’s Time Machine prop for a collector. Because it’s that kind of story, the prop works (just ask Mike Jittlov). He and Zenigata (and maybe Jigen... don't want the cast of characters to explode) are dragged back to Victorian England.

The prop is taken from him, and he encounters Holmes, who is investigating a series of crimes involving technology unknown to Victorian science - but quite familiar to Lupin. It seems that Moriarty (the manipulative chessmaster version) knew Lupin would accidentally bring the device to him because he arranged, via generations of proxies, to have it stolen in the first place. (Timey-wimey.) He is now using it to steal more futuristic equipment, causing chaos.

Despite Zenigata making Lupin's criminal activities clear, Holmes is concerned for the integrity of the timeline and persuades the clever thief and determined cop to help him try to put things right. Lupin is more than willing because he wants a crack at, in his words, “this two-bit math professor who’s challenged me.”

(Zenigata and Lestrade both immediately decide the other's a bumbler. OTOH, Jigen suggests just shooting Moriarty, and Watson finds the idea simultaneously appalling and oddly attractive. All parties agree that Fujiko Mine and Irene Adler must never meet.)

Lupin & Holmes: Together (reluctantly), they fight (a very specific) crime!

[sethshead]

The United Nations’ human rights chief, Volker Türk, has criticized the pager attack as a violation of international law and called for those behind it to be held to account. “Simultaneous targeting of thousands of individuals, whether civilians or members of armed groups, without knowledge of who was in possession of the targeted devices, their location and their surroundings at the time of the attack, violates international human rights law,” he said in a statement.

UN Security Council Resolution 1701, released as part of the end of the 2006 Israel-Hizb'allah war, called for the disarming of Hizb'allah and the withdrawal of Lebanese non-governmental armed groups north of the Litani River. UN peacekeepers have done nothing to enforce this agreement, nor to prevent Hizb'allah rocket, artillery, drone, and infiltration attacks on Israel. Israel's only protection is by virtue of Israeli force of arms. Now tens of thousands of Israeli civilians have been displaced for nearly a year as a result of Hizb'allah's unprovoked bombardment. Rather than pressure Hizb'allah to stop or the Lebanese military to step in, the UN instead simply expects Israel to abide this deadly war crime.

Never in the history of counterinsurgency has an operation been so targeted, precise, and proportional as the past two days' campaign against Hizb'allah communications equipment and personnel. The exploding pagers left bystanders mere inches away unharmed. The pagers and walkie-talkies were all ordered and purchased by Hizb'allah to Hizb'allah specifications at the urging of Hassan Nasrallah, for Hizb'allah officers and affiliates. There was nothing indiscriminate to this attack. Civilians by definition did not have access to these devices. There is no physical way with current technology to more effectively single out terrorists who embed themselves among noncombatants.

Yet for the UN even this is not enough. The UN would eliminate every means for Israel, and by extension Jews, to legitimately defend ourselves against enemies dedicated to our ethnic cleansing and genocide. If this masterpiece of limited war does not satisfy Herr Türk, nothing will. But then he works for the organization that condemned Israel for capturing Eichmann and for rescuing hostages at Entebbe, so we already know that the UN will only ever find sympathetic Jews who are already dead. Those of us who fight to live will always be the object of gentile disapproval.

[dertaglichedan]

Hezbollah's exploding pagers made by Hungarian company, Taiwan firm says

Taiwanese company Gold Apollo said Wednesday that it had authorized the use of its trademarked branding on the pagers that exploded Tuesday across Lebanon and Syria. But it said the devices carried by members of the Hezbollah group were actually manufactured and sold by Bac Consulting KFT — a company based in Budapest, Hungary.

Thousands of pagers held by Hezbollah members exploded almost simultaneously across Lebanon and Syria Tuesday, killing at least 12 people and wounding 2,750, according to Lebanon's public health minister.

"We authorize BAC to use our brand trademark for product sales in designated regions, but the design and manufacturing of the products are solely the responsibility of BAC," Gold Apollo said in a statement posted on its website. "Regarding the AR-924 pager model mentioned in the recent media reports [about Lebanon], we clarify that this model is produced and sold by BAC."

[mariacallous]

In a coordinated attack across Lebanon and parts of Syria, hundreds of pagers used by the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah simultaneously exploded on Tuesday, killing more than a dozen people and injuring thousands of others. No group has claimed responsibility, but the overwhelmingly likely culprit is Israel. Israel’s multifront war has broadened, including not only Hamas in Gaza but also Iran and its Axis of Resistance, a collection of proxy groups that includes Hezbollah.

Many are wondering why now. Is there a broader significance to the timing of the attack? Israel has said preventing Hezbollah attacks is among its war goals, despite warnings from the United States against a wider operation that could lead to all-out regional war. The pager attack could very well be the opening salvo to a prolonged Israeli military campaign against Hezbollah in Lebanon—or it could just be the latest clandestine operation in the long-running shadow war between Israel and Iran’s proxies. It is also possible that the Israelis triggered the operation because there was a time limit on how long it could continue undiscovered.

For Mossad, Israel’s intelligence service, the attack may go a long way toward polishing a reputation badly tarnished by failures around Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel. The pager operation itself seems out of a spy novel. There are myriad hypotheses circulating about how Mossad could have pulled off an attack this large and this dramatic. We don’t yet know whether bombs were implanted at the manufacturing stage or whether the supply chain was compromised at another phase in the process.

Hezbollah relied on antiquated means of communications such as pagers, possibly believing they were beyond the reach of Israel’s cyberwarriors. Following the Oct. 7 attack, Hezbollah personnel largely sought to eschew the use of cellphones, with the group’s leader, Hassan Nasrallah, urging fighters to instead use alternative methods of communication.

Some have speculated that malware injected into the devices could have caused the batteries to overheat and then, ultimately, the devices to explode. However, the attack was organized; it was done so with meticulous planning and attention to detail. Apart from the immediate impact of the attack, the capabilities demonstrated will render Hezbollah increasingly paranoid and uncertain of exactly what Mossad might pull off next.

Hezbollah will likely follow this attack with a comprehensive overhaul of its internal security apparatus, reviewing where the gaps in its operational security exist and attempting to shore up the tradecraft of its members. There could even be an internal purge for moles, a hunt that could lead to bloodletting within Hezbollah—an added bonus for Israel’s spooks.

One of the drivers behind the pager attack, as with the assassination of Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran in late July, is that Mossad is determined to refurbish its brand. Before the Oct. 7 attack, Israeli intelligence enjoyed a reputation as omnipotent, its legendary exploits retold in blockbuster spy movies such as Steven Spielberg’s Munich and the hit Netflix series Fauda. Israel’s targeted assassination campaign has so far killed Hamas deputy political leader Saleh al-Arouri in Beirut in January and Hezbollah senior commander Fuad Shukr in Beirut in late July, in addition to Haniyeh shortly after.

In addition to brand management for Mossad, Israel’s covert operations have a more practical effect. Hezbollah command and control has likely been wrecked, causing the group substantial communications issues in the near term. Moreover, Tuesday’s attack injured hundreds of Hezbollah fighters, some of whom will undoubtedly be maimed, missing fingers, hands, or suffering other injuries that will put them on the sidelines, at least temporarily.

The Houthis in Yemen, militia groups in Iraq and Syria, and other Iranian proxies will now begin taking greater precautions. This could change the way these groups communicate with one another, which, in turn, could directly affect coordination and hamper their ability to launch attacks of their own. The impact will be felt far beyond Lebanon, with other illicit groups worldwide—terrorists, criminals, and hackers—questioning the safety of their personal communication devices.

Nasrallah claims that Hezbollah does not want total war with Israel and has implied that his group remains engaged militarily on behalf of its Palestinian brethren in Gaza. Yet, even when multiple stakeholders claim that they want to avert war, it can still happen, as it did with Hezbollah and Israel in July 2006, a war that brought massive devastation to Lebanon and ended in somewhat of a stalemate. One could argue that it was a strategic defeat for Israel, since Hezbollah has only grown exponentially more powerful since the end of that war.

Eighteen years after that 34-day conflict, Hezbollah is an entirely different organization, with more advanced weaponry, more men under arms, and greater political legitimacy not just in Lebanon but throughout parts of the Islamic world. As Seth G. Jones and Daniel Byman correctly pointed out recently, war with Hezbollah would be Israel’s biggest challenge in decades. Nevertheless, that’s exactly where things could be headed.

Hezbollah will feel compelled to respond to the pager attack, humiliated by the success of the operation and thirsty for revenge. Israel’s new war aim of moving its displaced population back to the north near the border with Lebanon, nearly 60,000 people in total, will require pushing Hezbollah’s forces away from the border and back toward a manageable buffer zone. Even if Hezbollah claims to want to avoid war, any number of miscommunications could propel both sides toward conflict as the tit-for-tat exchanges continue and each side seeks to position its forces to gain a first-mover advantage.

As the Israelis know well, Hezbollah is not Hamas. Hezbollah is more akin to a conventional military, and its arsenal contains upwards of 150,000 rockets and precision-guided munitions. Hezbollah is, without question, among the most complete, well-trained, and resourced nonstate actors in global politics. Its fighters are battle-hardened from combat deployments to Syria, where they worked alongside Iran’s Revolutionary Guards and experimented with new, high-tech weaponry.

The pager attack is likely to have serious implications for Lebanon, the conflict between Israel and Iran’s proxies, and for the Middle East as a whole. Roughly three weeks out from the grim anniversary of Oct. 7, the region remains on a knife’s edge. Hard-line elements on all sides may see it in their interest to escalate, while ongoing diplomatic efforts prove too little, too late.

[beardedmrbean]

A British-educated businesswoman has denied allegations of manufacturing the pagers used in an audacious attack against Hezbollah.

The handheld devices killed at least 12 people and injured 3,000 after they simultaneously detonated across Lebanon and Syria on Tuesday afternoon in a suspected Israeli operation.

The Taiwanese company whose branding was on the technology claimed Budapest-based firm BAC Consultancy made the devices under a three-year brand licensing agreement.

But University College London (UCL) graduate Cristiana Barsony-Arcidiacono, the CEO of BAC Consultancy, said she was just a link in the supply chain and did not make the pagers.

“I do not make the pagers. I am just the intermediary. I think you got it wrong,” Ms Barsony-Arcidiacono told NBC News.

Around three grams of explosives are reported to have been placed into the AR-924 pagers in a sophisticated supply chain infiltration.

A Lebanese security source claimed Israel’s spy agency Mossad planted explosives in thousands of the devices months before they exploded, and one US official told Axios news the Israeli military moved to detonate the devices because it feared the sabotage plot had been exposed.

The Iran-backed militant group has vowed to retaliate against Israel, whose military declined to comment on the blasts.

Ms Barsony-Arcidiacono studied for a physics PhD at UCL between 2002 and 2006, according to her LinkedIn page.

She then went on to study at the London School of Economics and the University of London for various postgraduate qualifications between 2009 and 2017.

She also recently worked with the European Commission as an “evaluation expert” and as a “groundwater resource manager” for Unesco.

On her company’s website – which went offline on Wednesday morning – her work was described as “bridging technology and innovation from Asia”. The firm’s address was registered to a residential-looking two-storey building in Budapest, with its name posted on the glass door on an A4 sheet.

Hezbollah, which controls southern Lebanon, forms part of Iran’s so-called “axis of resistance”, which opposes Western and Israeli influence in the region.

A Hezbollah official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the detonation of the pagers was the “biggest security breach” the group had been subjected to in nearly a year of war with Israel.

The group opened a second front against Israel a day after the war in the Gaza Strip began, triggered by a Hamas attack inside Israel on 7 October.

Hamas, also backed by Tehran, killed around 1,200 people, with another 251 taken hostage. In response, Israel has bombarded Gaza from the air and ground.

[kitty-pelosi]

All things are in motion and so much could happen in the coming years. I am terrified and in awe of what is to come, and glad to be of an age where I might die in a different world than I was born.

But that world still needs to be born.

I think of the student protests on university campuses and I think of history, recent and far past. In America, the state has implemented a solution to unorganized civil unrest, and it is the carceral system. In America, we have the most robust domestic surveillance and carceral system that has ever existed in human history. The number people we have imprisoned and enslaved per capita is truly unmatched across the entire planet. Generations of potential world-changers that we have ensnared and destroyed.

These students are admirable people. They have used clever tactics to resist the police and have interacted with media in productive ways, ways which have cut through illusions present in our society and opened wounds in a system of lies. But that system is older and stronger than all of you as individuals. It has eaten previous generations and is completely capable of consuming you as well.

I am desperate for organization. There is no infrastructure in place to protect us. The social media we use to spread information about resistance is absolutely in the hands of capital, set up to null all potential victories by way of data collection. Subversive? You are logged. A language model can comb through a database of devices attached to names and produce a profile on you - of who you are, where you are, what you believe in and what you have done and may yet do. The tools of capital are more advanced than ever, and the people have never been less organized.

Because of these tools, because of the carceral system, activism is risky. A generation was consumed in the 60’s and 70’s. Revolutionary potential extinguished for a half-century, effectively and meticulously at the hands of the US government. This is an effective cycle. Every half-century there will be a new crop of youth with ideas for change, and every half-century the state will employ new tools for the reaping. What’s happening is not new nor fundamentally different.

Disorganized protests are easy to quell. Disorganized movements that succeed in overthrowing their government seldom produce just post-revolutionary systems. 2020 was a year in which the US saw widespread civil unrest. A police station was immolated. Cops and protestors died (the former rightfully so). A white child gunned down some people and became a fascist celebrity. And then after a year, everyone went back into the box. The safety valve of binary elections worked, and people felt tired again. Because there was no true protection - no actual organization responsible for helping resistance. Anything that popped up was swiftly co-opted by the government, or disrupted - and those who were true revolutionaries have been destroyed.

At the hands of the carceral system.

And so why is it that the prison industrial-complex has not itself been targeted? Why do protestors not storm jails and prisons and release everyone? There exists no justice under this system, everyone who has been arrested here has been apprehended unjustly. Why do we not have solidarity with prisoners? Has the cultural fear of criminality as an abstraction truly separated people from those labeled as criminals? I assure you the government does not have the manpower to both defend the carceral system from attack while simultaneously using the carceral system to protect the carceral system. It is the fundamental strategy of asymmetric warfare. And this is war. If the tools of your enemy are so much more powerful than your own, then attack those tools directly. Render them agonizing to use. Destroy them, and you have weakened your opponent. The paradigm changes, and you adjust.

There is no just Revolution without prison abolition and total disability integration. Not in America. I will explode with hope and joy should the protesting children of the bourgeoisie find solidarity with prisoners. I think this is the key to the end.