#he had clearly been deteriorating for years leading up to this

[endlessfuckup]

dude idek what to do with myself rn.....

[adispit]

A Second Life

god x m! priest reader

Summary: Transmigrated into a new world with seemingly new beginnings, a strange god takes an interest in you.

Content warnings: very dark, non consensual touching and watching, dubcon (reader submits but isn’t really having a great time), barely any foreplay (very unrealistic), penetrative anal sex, belly bulge, size difference, overstimulation (?) if you squint, religious themes

note: Like half way through I realised the plot went off the rails but it was too late because I had already deleted a draft before this 😭 and I was gonna give up at that point so I don’t really like this 😞 but either wise, hope you enjoy and sorry for the wait!!

At first, you were thoroughly dismayed when you discovered you had been transmigrated into the world of the novel, Tyrant’s Intense Love. The night before, you had been engrossed in the romance novel that revolved around the familiar trope of a female and male lead overcoming numerous trials before finally falling in love. Unfortunately for you, you had transmigrated into a minor background character—one who was entirely inconsequential and had not appeared in a single chapter of the story. You inhabited the body of a priest devoted to Kallos, the god of light who presided over the continent. As part of the temple’s ranks, you were one of the numerous lowly priests responsible for prayer, fasting, and delivering sermons. Your duties were equally modest; you were tasked with dusting and maintaining the cleanliness of the temple. Before your transmigration, your life had been equally mundane. You were a corporate office worker who relied on far too many beers to handle the endless stream of projects your coworkers offloaded onto you. Enduring sleepless nights and relentless deadlines, your personal life was just as bleak and unfulfilling. The sole solace you found was in reading novels that transported you to fantastical romances you longed to experience.

With the simple goal of finding your true soulmate in this new life, you fervently declared your intent, only to quickly discover that such aspirations were impossible. As a priest of the Light Temple, you were required to maintain your chastity to demonstrate the purity of your devotion to the god of light. This seemed utterly absurd. After all, the renowned saintess from the novel had countless secret night rendezvous with the male lead, the crown prince, long before their relationship became official. It felt profoundly unjust and even scandalous, to say the least…. You couldn’t leave either as a priest of age in the temple, you weren’t allowed to leave. That was several years ago, back when you first transmigrated. You’ve somewhat come to terms with your fate and reality. Being a lowly priest isn’t so bad, after all. Despite the modest nature of your role and the boring nature of your duties, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, all provided by the temple. You weren’t one to complain. Given your timid and meek disposition, this role suited you well. There were no coworkers to harass or manipulate with office politics, and the absence of a demanding family was a relief. The life you led here wasn’t so bad. The body you had inhabited had belonged to an orphan adopted by the temple at a young age, and your name, like his, was (Name).

Kallos had grown weary of ruling over this world through countless cycles. Each millennium seemed as vexing as the last, with his creations remaining nothing more than soulless puppets, trapped in their predetermined fates. His sanity deteriorated further with each passing decade. Yet, something peculiar marked this cycle. He had observed a disturbance—a single priest possessed by a soul that clearly did not belong to this world. Though he could not pinpoint when he began to scrutinize you through his bronze mirror in the heavens, it had become a daily ritual for him to watch you. You were the lone human who exhibited a spark of life and vitality in this dull and monotonous world. It was so interesting to him, how a mere and fragile human, like you who exhibited little to no threat in the face of his divinity, had somewhat been a variable out of his control. A soul that wasn’t part of this world. As his sanity had been worn down through out centuries, what had been left was a sick obsession and interest in you as he saw you as a precious treasure, no, a plaything he had to have. He was a patient god, as given by his endurance through ages of rule. He would bide his time and wait to claim you.

Yes, he was patient, but he was also greedy. After a few years of watching you through the bronze mirror he once used to gaze upon the mortals, he felt he had waited long enough. With a sinister grin spreading across his face, he set his plans into motion.

Ironically, you never really had any faith in the god of light, Kallos, despite the fact that you were a priest, having to worship him. It was probably due to the fact you were from another world. You also didn’t have any of the light mana that priests and saints had, it was an ethereal power bestowed upon them as they entered the temple and led lives devoted to the god. Instead, your duties remained simple: cleaning the temple, dusting ancient artifacts, and tending to the garden, not that you didn’t like it. Not to mention, recently, you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that someone was constantly watching you, even though you were alone. You had brought this concern to your fellow priests, but their response was dismissive, insisting that no one would dare prey upon one of Kallos' children. Despite their reassurances, the sense of being observed persisted. However, your worries were the least of your concerns as you were selected to be one of the brides of Kallos in the temple. This unorthodox ritual never happened in the novel before and you had no idea how this happened. Hadn’t the novel gone a little off the rails? When you had questioned the elders why, they had replied with a harsh snap that you had been idling far too long in the temple and it was time to partake in your duties properly which just confused you further.

Now, you found yourself seated while Eli, one of the oracles, fussed with your hair. Having been in this world for some time, you had made a few friends, and Eli was among them. Despite her blindness, she was gifted with the ability to see the future, a paradoxical blessing given her condition. Eli was like a mother figure to you, often chiding you for overexerting yourself while working in the garden. Your workaholic tendencies had landed you in her clinic more times than you could count, and her concern for your well-being was a constant, caring presence in your life. Despite her typically vibrant and exuberant demeanor, she was unusually subdued today. In an attempt to lift her spirits, you said with a light-hearted tone, “Eli, it’s not like Kallos is going to choose someone like me—a humble priest who’s constantly laboring in the simple garden among all the stunning contenders. I mean, I’ve heard he has a penchant for…” Your voice faltered as the conversation grew uncomfortable, and you looked down, trailing off. Instead of her usual witty retort or playful response, she gazed blankly ahead with her pale, milky eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over her. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her hands making your strands of untouched hair fall against your back, and spoke urgently, “(Name), listen to me! You’re in imminent dan—mmphm!!” Her words were abruptly cut off as if her mouth had been sealed. A bell rang, signaling the brides selected to enter the cathedral for the ritual. A servant firmly took your arm and guided you away from Eli, who sat silently, tears streaming down her face as she listlessly stared into space. As you were led down the grand corridor, the distant echoes of the bell grew fainter. The solemnity of the cathedral loomed ahead, its familiar grandeur both awe-inspiring and intimidating. You glanced back one last time, catching a fleeting glimpse of Eli's tear-streaked face and her desolate expression. The servant’s grip on your arm tightened, making it clear there was no turning back.

Entering the cathedral, you were greeted by the hushed whispers of the assembled crowd and the flickering light of countless candles. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation and formality. The brides, dressed in their opulent gowns, stood in a stately line, their faces a mixture of nervousness and resolve. You were dressed in a simple garb—a modest robe that seemed almost out of place amidst the grandeur. As you took your place among them, your thoughts were a whirl of confusion and dread. The urgency in Eli's voice and her silent plea echoed in your mind, making it hard to focus on the ceremony ahead.

As the final bell tolled, the grand doors of the cathedral swung closed, signaling the start of the ritual. The priests and priestesses, draped in elaborate garments, assumed their positions at the altar with precision and reverence. A solemn chant began, its rhythmic, hypnotic cadence filling the air.

You, along with the other brides, were directed to kneel before the altar. The heavy scent of incense mingled with the cool, echoing silence of the cathedral, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The low, resonant hum of the priests’ chants, punctuated by the bishop’s otherworldly murmurs, enveloped the space.

A sudden, blinding light illuminated you, casting your figure in stark relief against the darkness. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the light intensified. Then, a loud, resonant voice cut through the reverent murmur: “I have chosen my bride.”

Shock overwhelmed you as a single thought raced through your mind: “Why!?” Yet, there was no time for questions as a surge of energy enveloped you. The grandeur of the cathedral began to dissolve, and the very fabric of reality shimmered and blurred. The chanting and murmurs of the crowd faded into a distant echo, replaced by a profound, ethereal silence. A radiant light, more brilliant than anything you had ever seen, surrounded you. The sensation was both soothing and overwhelming as if you were being lifted from the earth. The cathedral’s walls, the solemnity, and the weight of the ritual vanished, and you felt yourself ascending through a luminous expanse.

In an instant, you found yourself in a realm of breathtaking beauty. The sky above was a cascade of colors, shifting gently like a cosmic aurora. The air was filled with a sweet, harmonious melody, and the very ground beneath you seemed to sparkle with celestial light. The landscape was serene and otherworldly, with ethereal gardens and radiant structures floating in a tranquil sea of light.

Although beautiful, the celestial landscape seemed to radiate a certain sense of coldness and loneliness. ��Beautiful, isn’t it?” a rich, magnetic voice remarked from behind you. Whipping around, you found yourself facing a man bathed in radiant light. His flowing white hair cascaded to his ankles, and his crimson eyes seemed to pierce right through you, exuding an intense, mesmerizing gaze. You had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, radiating an otherworldly charm and a palpable sense of power that left a profound impression on you. “Kallos?” you asked meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. (Name), my beloved bride. I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time, my dearest. Come, follow me into my humble abode.” He smiled with a captivating amusement, his lips curving into a knowing and irresistibly charming expression as he beckoned you to follow him. His intimate address was slightly intimidating, but you brushed off the feeling and stepped obediently behind him.

As you followed him, the grandeur of the palace unfolded before you. The corridors were lined with walls that shimmered with soft, golden light, and the air was filled with a gentle, harmonious melody that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the space.

Kallos led you through halls adorned with intricate, glowing patterns and serene, floating tapestries.

He guided you to a magnificent chamber, its design both luxurious and inviting. The room was bathed in a warm glow, with furnishings that seemed to float effortlessly in the air, their delicate forms illuminated by a soft, radiant light.

As you entered, Kallos turned to you, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “This is where we will be,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the splendor. “You must be hungry. Here, have a fruit.” Kallos extended a golden fruit towards you, its surface shimmering with a warm, radiant glow.

With your guard down, you bit into the fruit, its juices dripping down your chin as the sweetness burst in your mouth. Offering Kallos a shy smile, you quietly murmured your thanks.

A dark, gleaming look of delight flickered in his crimson eyes as he reached out, his touch both tender and assertive. His hand caressed your thigh before gripping it firmly, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of intensity and satisfaction. “(Name), you’re finally mine. I’ve waited too long.” His voice, now laced with a chilling intensity, contrasted sharply with his former gentleness. A dark, sinister smile played across his lips, revealing a side of him that was both unsettling and menacing.

Your eyes widened in terror as the reality of the danger you were in sank in, but it was too late. With inhumane strength, he held you firmly, his grip unyielding as he continued, his eyes burning with an ominous, predatory gleam. “I’ve watched over you for so long. Watching you sleep, how could you taunt me so when you didn’t wear shorts? I simply had to have a taste.” A sly smirk appeared on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of amusement as you flushed with red-hot embarrassment. The realization hit you with a jolt: those times you woke up with hand-shaped bruises all over your body had been his doing, and that unsettling feeling of being watched—he was behind it all.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, his voice dripping with malicious delight, “Did you enjoy my mark of ownership? And you’re simply adorable when you jump whenever I peer at you through the bronze mirror.” You sank into the mattress, cold dread gripping your heart. “W-what do you even want from me?” you managed to ask, summoning a burst of courage to meet his gaze. He laughed loudly at your response, the sound echoing with a mix of obsession and insanity. The light god, once revered by many for his kindness and generosity, now stood before you with an unsettling, unfettered look of infatuation. What he said next delivered the final blow. “I know you’re from another world. It both fascinates and frustrates me that someone like you, a mere mortal, is beyond my complete control. I simply had to have you. And now, you’re finally mine.” He gently cupped your face, his touch a jarring contrast to the harshness of his words. The shock of the situation settled in. You were paralyzed with the realization that there was no escape from a god’s grasp. The weight of his words and the power behind them left you feeling trapped and helpless, unable to flee from the divine being before you.

“What you ate,” Kallos said, his voice smooth and triumphant, “was no ordinary fruit. It binds you to this realm, a gift with a binding essence. With each bite, you became entwined with the very fabric of this heaven.”

He gently cupped your face, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “You cannot leave now. You are part of this world, as I intended. You’re mine, completely and irrevocably.” Overwhelmed by his words and the inescapable reality of your situation, you felt a profound sense of resignation wash over you. He was a god and you were a mere mortal. You saw no way out and accepted the unyielding truth of your confinement. You simply nodded, your shoulders slumping in defeat, as you gave up the struggle.

“As husband and wife, we must consummate our love.” Pushing you against your back, he pecked your cheek with barely disguised enthusiasm before hungrily tearing at your clothes. His hands tracing down your body to find your soft cock lying against your stomach. “You’re so…small.” The marvel in his tone as he fondled your dick stung at you as you protested with a small offended squeak. You trembled as his hand wrapped around your length. The size difference was nearly alarming, engulfing you completely. You gasped as the hand moved. His hand moved up and down, teasingly light as the sensations were although unfamiliar, felt too little, but enough to rile you up. Shame welled up in you as you internally willed yourself that it shouldn’t feel good.

No. No. No. No. It shouldn’t have felt good…but it did.

Your hips involuntarily thrusted into his warm grasp. “Does it feel good?” An arm wrapped around your stomach, pinning you to the god. “I-I don’t know!” You whimpered, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your knees give out. Mischievously, he swiped his thumb over your leaking tip as you twitched at the sudden stimulation before coming with a force harder than you had ever experienced. A foreign finger eased into you as another followed immediately. You felt yourself stretched wide and shuddering from below, a throbbing burn filling your insides. “Please! Have mercy!” You pleaded, shivering with a pathetic cry.

Kallos released you and slowly crept up your body. “You want me to show you mercy?” He asked with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Y-Yes.” You felt warm tears slip down your cheeks as you trembled in his grasp. “How can I show you mercy when you call out so sweetly for me?” He grunted, roughly gripping your legs apart as he towered before you. A blunt object pressed against your hole, bigger than his fingers, monstrous compared to your own cock. “Stop!”

“No.” Kallos replied resolutely, his hands both pinning your hands over your head. “I-it’s too big…” You stuttered weakly. “Don’t be silly, (Name). It’s not big.” Kallos peered down at you like a man possessed with hunger. “Y-you can’t-“

“I can. And I will.” The god rammed into you harshly, any of his former reservation and gentleness gone.

Throwing your head back, you soundlessly wheezed. You couldn’t breathe. It was too fast. You were too full. He pulled back his hips slightly before slamming his hips into you again. Kallos groaned, eyes shutting close. “So tight.” Your warm walls hugged his cock, squeezing and twitching as he continuously brushed against your prostrate. Keening, euphoria overtook you again as you stained your abdomen white. You sobbed, delirious as Kallos relentlessly delivered brutal thrusts with your cries echoing in the chamber. Your whole body rocked forward with the force of Kallos’ thrusts. Letting go of your arms, he gingerly shared a clumsy kiss with you, hot tongue entwining with yours. The kiss felt more like a bite consuming you, teeth knocking together as he ruthlessly bit at your lip. ‘Mhn..’ You whimpered, legs trembling when they were spread by Kallos’s muscular thighs.

The god seemed to be in a similarly pleasurable daze as he pointedly drilled into you, letting out a determined grunt as if his goal was fitting the entirety of his girth inside you.

Obscene squelches of his cock repeatedly driving into you was accompanied by the fervent slaps of skin against skin. Scrambling for anything to ground you, a pillow you tried to grab on was thrown randomly somewhere far in the room with a displeased tut. With nothing to ground you, you mewled as you found yourself limply holding on to the body that was pounding away at you. Any scratch or plea for him to stop only spurred Kallos on more, encouraging him further. The perpetual state of bliss had you growing taut, cum leaking out of your cock in pitiful drops. Your orgasm had him following after, Kallos plunging in so deep you swore you could feel him up in your stomach. Clamping up on the inhumane dick that was filling you up with hot seed, you stiffened as you were pulled into another filthy kiss that had you gasping for air.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.” Kallos exclaimed as he sat up, making sure his dick was buried in you as deep as possible, his hips opposite yours. Glancing down the obscene sight, your stomach which was slightly distended from the bulge that was his dick in you, waist littered with bruises from how hard he gripped onto you. You felt intense exhaustion wash over you as he began to rock his hips into yours again, despite the warmth of your bodies entangled together, cold despair doused your heart in cold water. Your breath caught in your throat, you knew that you were now trapped in a cold cage with this insane man, no. god. For the rest of eternity. Together.

note: so yeah, Kallos kinda saw you as a plaything at first that incited his desire because you’re something that is simply out of his control, something new but then it turns into a kinda sick “love” and obsession with you as he finds himself looking at you often than he notices.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[even-in-arcadia]

A Consideration of 1st Lt. Edward Little of HMS Terror (As Played by Matthew McNulty)

The thing about Lt. Edward Little is that he had the highest ideals and yet was set up in so many ways to fail them.  

We occasionally see glimpses of the man Edward Little must have been in order to be appointed First Lieutenant on a very prestigious expedition: reliable, capable, stalwart. 

He had that, before, when he was doing the job he was trained for, ie running a ship at sea.  What he hasn’t been trained for at all is managing 129 126 119 105 ? men stuck in pack ice in endless night, later trudging over ice and shale, trying to keep them busy and out of trouble and from getting killed by a demon bear.  Of course he’s out of his depth, but honestly aren’t most of them?  Of the lieutenants Gore (RIP) is the only one who seems to be in his element and he’s the only one with Arctic experience so that tracks.  Even Le Vesconte is getting by on charisma and the power of peer pressure, neither of which actually make for competent officering.  So that’s the scene he’s stuck in, and no wonder if he’s out of his depth.  

Then we have the circumstances specific to Edward Little.  He's spent the first two-plus years of the voyage as the first for a captain who is very depressed and increasingly alcoholic. As Crozier's state deteriorates and especially after Franklin dies, Little has to tread a very fine and somewhat blurry line. He has to cover for Crozier, picking up the slack that is inevitably dropped; he also has to prop Crozier up in such a way that his leadership as Captain isn't undermined with the crew. A big part of both of those is making sure that the right questions are being asked, that all practicalities are being factored in, but he has to ask those questions without seeming to question Crozier’s authority. Thus he must essentially be an acting captain without seeming to do so either to the men or to Crozier . He is not someone who wants power per se; in fact I think what he wants most is to be a good and competent 1st Lt. But because he's under an semi-incapacitated captain, he has no choice but to take on some of that power while appearing to be no more than a loyal lieutenant. He's leading without being seen to lead, and he's already seen Crozier flog three men for among other things insubordination and disrespect (and without due process).

(Continued below the cut, as this got very long)

Crozier has also put him in a position of having to lie - both directly and by omission! For example, when questioned he tells Fitzjames (who outranks him) "much to do on Terror is all” - leaving JFJ to draw his own conclusions on the source of that “much” and the extent to which it is falling on Little.  The instruction to procure more whiskey “discreetly” is nearly if not actually insulting in how far below Little's rank it is.  Having to do it “discreetly” is even worse.  He is being treated as an errand boy, and not just an errand boy but one tasked with something that is clearly unsavory, even illicit.   By ordering him to to this, he makes Little complicit in the very vice that is causing all of these problems, and Little by virtue of his position is unable to refuse any of these direct orders, even ones that are way below his station. (The fact that Jopson, Crozier's actual steward who was actually in charge of these things, was not given that task is also telling although I’m not sure of what - perhaps that Crozier wanted someone who outranked the Erebus’ steward to do the asking; perhaps that he felt some shame in asking Jopson.)

Through all of this, Little is having to cover for a man who continues to lose his own respect in ways both large and small, personal and professional. Crozier has endangered the crew for which Little feels himself bound to care - leading directly to Blanky losing his leg - and has spoken flippantly of the situation ("How fares the raft of the Medusa?"). In 1x04, he is clearly galled by both the disregard of due process and severity of Hickey’s punishment.  (While both are not unstandard in the Navy, Crozier’s manner makes it seem like spite as much as anything - which I’m sure Little clocked.)  Overall, Little observes him making inebriated decisions that are based as much on his internal demons as any the practicalities at hand while men continue to die under his watch. This erosion of trust will come back to haunt them all, because even when its causes have been overcome, the deep root and the effects are there. (JFJ gets to have reckonings with Crozier and say his piece in a way that Little never does or will.)

Edward Little also cares deeply about the welfare of his men, perhaps more than anything. Command is a responsibility not just to the navy but to those whose lives his decisions affect. And so he as he sees this disregard for them (and for himself) he is angry, and he is in a profession and position where one is not allowed to be angry with one's superiors. So he spends a lot of his time pretending that he is not quietly furious while carrying out orders that he knows he shouldn't be, and hiding it from everyone , even Fitzjames, because he is also, deep in his heart, loyal (even if he feels it is unearned) and married to Naval structures.  Crozier and JFJ have their reckoning, but Little never gets that, because subordinates aren’t allowed to be angry.  

This combination, the lack of trust both given and received, the anger, the care & loyalty, the necessity to fill the void in leadership, means that he asks a lot of questions . A well placed "Are you sure, sir?" can go a long way. "Yes, but--" is not a phrase that would often have been uttered to a commander by a lieutenant, but Little has not just earned but hard won the right to say it.  Every time he questions Crozier, I think it is out of a sense of duty, not defiance. A duty to the expedition, to Crozier, and above all to the men, because for so long Crozier’s judgement was not something he was able to rely on. He can’t even attend a sunrise party without thinking of the supplies that are being used up! 

To top everything off, he also never appears to be someone who is particularly congenial nor gregarious, he is very aware of his rank, and is competent while not being loved (except by me).  I like to imagine that he and Jopson and Macdonald were able to commiserate in some way as Crozier was going through his detox.  But everyone is so conscious of class & rank & secrets being guarded that it seems unlikely that anyone actually confided in each other. By getting dry and in such dramatic fashion, Crozier earns back his loyalty & respect, but by doing so in secret I wonder if he hasn't further eroded Little's relationship with the other lieutenants.  Do they even know Crozier is drying out or is Little lying to them as well as to the entire rest of the crew?  Little does not seem like a man who cares for lying, and covering up the captain's "gastritis" would only have made Little feel more cut off and burdened by the captain's confidence. (To say nothing of the fact that all of this is going on with the Tuunbaaq in the background - these lieutenants were not designed to contend with alcoholic spirits let alone the spirit world.)

 Crozier’s trust does often  end up being more burden than anything, and it’s beyond the responsibility that would normally come with his rank. That moment when he practically shoves the pistol away from him is so telling of this.  We really were robbed of the moment when Little is so angry after leaving Crozier that he can’t even slam his door: because that’s what’s building up this entire time!  

By covering for Crozier both before and during his sobering up, Little probably lost some of his authority over the crew. They know he's hiding something, and that earns some distrust. He's obviously worn out, and there must be some observation that Crozier is literally using him as an errand boy. In the best of circumstances the commanding-without-commanding is a hard line to walk while maintaining one’s own air of authority. He's also angry, and in working so hard to cover and subdue his anger, what he's left with is the "sad, wet man" that fandom has dubbed him. The crew may not know exactly what’s going on (although what do those men have to do besides gossip) but they must have sensed how Little is being worn away. As much as he cares for them, he wouldn’t fraternize - it seems like he barely fraternizes in the wardroom.  (Which is why that moment of camaraderie with Jopson outside Crozier’s cabin is so important to me personally.) 

That brings us to the mutiny.  We may love a sad, wet man, but in the face of a charismatic mutineer he's never going to match up. He doesn't have the authority, the love of the crew, or really the energy to go against it. At this point, he has no reason to know or suspect that a mutiny is what's the offing in the first place! He is someone who wants to believe the best of his men, and he's been given no reason to doubt Tozer's motives. And what was he supposed to do in the face of a marine sergeant surrounded by frightened, armed men?  They are clearly on edge and afraid, a dangerous combination.  He is practical, and although ultimately it loses him even more face by going along with Tozer, he was never going to be able to stop that in its tracks. Even JFJ wasn’t able to reel back in what had already been done.  So he chooses the pragmatic route: agree publicly to the logic, let Tozer do with him what he's been doing with Crozier, in making the subordinate's idea appear to be the superior's. With the situation and facts at hand, what else is he to do? 

The irony is that Little has been quietly looking out for all of them and their best interests for so long; but because it was so quiet, an undercurrent, when it comes down to brass tacks, none of them have ever seen that, or feel that they owe him any respect or loyalty. Tozer and Hickey appear to be men of action, and unfortunately in a moment like this a group of frightened men is going to follow the one who appears strongest. 

I also want to point out that Crozier specifically says *while the fog holds off*. Well the fog has rolled in! The situation changed! Crozier clearly has suspicions of Hickey and Tozer that he hasn't confided to Little, and whose fault is that! When it comes to investigating Irving’s and Farr’s murders, Little asks what the evidence is, which suggests to me that he has no knowledge of any concerns about Hickey that have arisen post-lashing.  Again, he is inclined to trust them.

One of the realest moments we get from him is "I'm the worst kind of sorry." It's one of the very few times he breaks from naval demeanor. The worst kind because he feels it deeply, but also because he was stuck, and he knows it, and also knows the expectations both from himself and from others that he be Better.

What it comes down to is what he says to Hodgson: "All we have are our instincts and training. If both told you to proceed with what you ordered, then be easy with yourself." That is all Little has had for so long. He certainly doesn’t seem to be having heart to hearts with Irving and Hodgson, let alone JFJ and Crozier; his counterpart on Erebus is long gone.  Who has he to confide in, especially at this juncture of events, when there are no clear paths and no right answers. I imagine this is what he told himself over and over in the long watches of the night.  

And yet!! Matthew McNulty has said that “Little's probably one of the most hopeful out of them all. [...] He still thinks that humanity will prevail in this dark, dark world.”  I’m not sure where to put this, but I think it’s important.  I think it’s part of why he doesn’t always quite have the authority he should: poor, worn down Edward Little sees the best and hopes for the best, and can’t quite reckon that not everyone has the same moral compass he does.  That’s why Tozer & Hickey get the best of him, because he wants to believe the best of them.  He doesn’t compromise his moral compass or belief in humanity, and unfortunately that turns into a blind spot.I think it’s also why Tozer invites him to join them: because some part of him recognizes that they both have that idealism deep down.  They are both doing their best in an inconceivable situation to cling to hope and take care of those they see as under their protection. It pains me to think what they could have accomplished had they worked together rather than against each other. 

(Incidentally, I don’t believe Little ever would have been swayed to join them, but I can’t blame him for the fact that Tozer’s claim about Crozier leaving them gave him pause.  He’s seen Crozier finally grow into a commander he can respect, but to find out that Crozier’s judgment was not just impaired for so long but extended to actively planning to abandon ship & crew, as Tozer frames, as he was working so hard to hold things together - even if he doesn’t believe it, in his heart of course there must have been some doubt.) 

All of these, the erosion of respect, the concern, the exhaustion, the lack of direction and support, the HOPE, come together in a moment for which he (unjustly, in my opinion) gets vilified for: 

We’ve slowed our pace hauling some of the ill in the boats. But if we extend this temporary camp more than a few days, we can allow the ill to rest here while the bulk of us proceed south. We can hopefully find game and trek back for the others once we have something more to offer them–

And Jopson’s anger is both understandable and not unwarranted - but. Based on that look Le Vesconte gives him, this most likely is not a thought that originated with Little.  It’s  being grumbled by those hauling, maybe even obliquely discussed by the officers.   That look says to me “It has to be said.”  And it does, the logistics are evident to everyone and that needs to be discussed.  They’re sending out hunting parties every day, sure, but in an area very close to the one they’re trekking through.  It genuinely does make practical sense to have some unencumbered, able-bodied (relatively) men go ahead quickly to what would hopefully be better hunting grounds, while the sick conserve what strength they have: those able to hunt could move quickly and bring back game, while those who are dying could do so while not being jostled about on boats on shale.  Little does not say (and, I think, would never say) that they should leave them behind entirely: only that this current system isn’t really helping anyone (and it isn’t).  He needs to make sure that Crozier has fully considered the situation, because for so long that was not the case. (Historically, in fact, they did set up a hospital camp while a smaller party moved south.)

I actually do think he says this with hope: the hope that they really will find game, that the ill do just need to rest, that he can save as many of them as possible.  He's also thinking of the practicalities and (though I may be biased) really does intend to return to the ill once they have something to actually provide them with. He doesn't say so that they can move on unencumbered, to better their own chances, he says to let them rest , to find something to offer them.  He knows the situation and the feeling in camp, and that the time has come to have the conversation. It's not even necessarily a conversation he wants to have or believes in, but it has to be had. Once it's been talked about, once Crozier has come out with not just a position but a direction (to leave supplies behind if necessary), Little is entirely on board. Shortly thereafter, when Le Vesconte suggests the exact same thing, he retorts that " Most of us are ill" (note the us - the identification with) and further responds with disgust and anger that "The Captain also ordered that we not leave any man behind. You expediently leave that out."  The Captain isn’t there; Jopson isn’t there: if Little really in any way wanted to leave anyone behind, this was his chance to order it and save himself.  The fact is that he is still arguing for and trying to lead with compassion as well as duty; the fact that he can't override the more selfish majority doesn't negate that.

I wish we could see his decision to go with Le Vesconte even though he so clearly believes that these lesser mutineers are in the wrong; I know why we don't. I like to think that it's because he believes he's doing the best thing for all, that he knows one semi-able bodied man staying behind is not going to help anyone, and that by going south with the group he may be to able to sway them, or find game for the ill. But again - he has been put in a position where there is no right choice, and where any authority he had has been too far eroded to matter.

Regardless: we go from his vehement protestation that they must a) rescue their captain and b) not leave behind the ill to die to this:

A man completely broken, weathered almost beyond recognition, with his flesh pierced by and draped with the chains of watch fobs. That's fobs plural: they're clearly different chains, from different watches, from different men.  But in still uniform.  Because he clung to the to his identity, to hope, to grounding structure of the Navy in which he trained and believed, until the very end.

We don't know what happens in between. Is it madness? Did the mutineers do this to him?   Is it penance? A memorization of the men whose watches those were?  A punishment on himself for what happened on his watch - despite the fact that really, he was powerless to stop it? And this is the only watch he can keep now - watch chains in his face, his eyes forced open to the horrors. Or did 1st Lt. Edward Little spend so long suppressing his anger, marrying that anger to hope, being responsible, keeping confidences, bearing all that alone, with authority that is both shoved on him and disregarded - did he finally snap? Are the chains not a decoration, not a punishment, but an attempt to literally bind himself up and tack himself down to this terrible world where he’s found himself?  

All we know for certain is his last word - “Close?” Close to what? To death? To salvation?  The only comfort either Edward Little or we, the audience, will get - is that at the very end, his captain was there to release him from the duty to which he clung for so long, so fiercely, with so much hope.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

♡———♡

After leaving the port of Tanzanite and traveling for a while by carriage on a well-maintained road, the scenery gradually lost its greenery and water, transforming into a desert with dry sand swirling in the air.

(...It's hotter than I imagined.)

(But it's a sight I could never experience in Rhodolite, so it's exciting!)

Partway through, we switched to camels, the mode of transport in the desert, and proceeded along a pathless route.

It seemed like there was no road to me, but Basil and Kamal, our guides, seemed to see it clearly, their footsteps never faltering.

As I enjoyed my first-ever desert experience while regularly hydrating, we eventually began to see scattered remnants of what looked like ruins.

Emma: This is...

Basil: A former city. The Primal Sanctuary is just beyond this.

Emma: "Primal Sanctuary"?

Basil: The sanctuary is the temple where God resides.

Basil: Due to the deterioration of the building, it has now been relocated near the royal court...

Basil: But where we're heading now is the first residence where the "First Living God" lived.

("First" means there have been several Living Gods?)

Basil: Prince Azel likes the weathered Primal Sanctuary, which has become a ruin, and uses it as his residence.

Emma: Is it... habitable?

Basil: I'm glad you asked!

Basil: Originally, it wouldn't be, but if you see it, you'll understand Prince Azel's greatness. By the way--

Kamal threw the hair ornament she was wearing at the fast-talking Basil.

(That looked like it hurt...)

But Basil gently smiled and caught the ornament, suggesting this was a common occurrence between them.

Basil: Ah, look over there! That is the Primal Sanctuary and Prince Azel's residence.

As Basil, leading the way, said, the scenery, which had been obscured by a sandstorm, cleared up--

And what appeared was a solitary desert castle, far larger than I had imagined.

Emma: Wow...

I couldn't help but gasp in admiration at the unique appearance that exuded Tanzanite's long history.

The weathered outer walls, as old as the ruins we had seen on the way here, looked as if they were about to crumble, but on closer inspection, there were traces of repair here and there.

(God really lives here...?)

Emma: It's a building with a lot of character.

Akatsuki: It's a wreck.

Emma: Owner!

Akatsuki: It's a fact.

Basil: It must be over 1000 years old.

Emma: 1000 years!?

(Amazing... It might be a miracle that it's still standing.)

(I wonder how much history this solitary castle has witnessed.)

We dismounted our camels and stepped into the sanctuary.

The sand changed to cracked paving stones, and perhaps thanks to the shelter, the stifling air seemed to lighten.

???: Thank you for making the trip to such a remote place.

A gentle voice, filled with compassion, reached my ears. It was neither Basil, Kamal, nor the owner.

And the moment I heard that voice--

???: Why do you crave love?

I felt like I was seeing an illusion.

(...That was--)

I closed my eyes tightly once, shaking off the vision.

When I opened my eyes again to reality, I saw a figure amidst the shimmering heat haze in the distance.

Hair of a mysterious color that shimmered in the sunlight, and eyes that were clearly unusual even from afar.

Even though it was daytime, this person, who somehow reminded me of a full moon at night, came towards us with a calm gait, welcoming us with a compassionate smile that seemed to know no impurity.

Emma: Ah!

Akatsuki: What's wrong?

Emma: ...Nothing.

(I've definitely seen this person before.)

(But I can't remember when or where I met them.)

I couldn't remember, but I was sure that this person was the Living God of the land of divination and illusions, the one Basil had called "Prince Azel."

(...Beautiful eyes, unlike those of ordinary people.)

(I was skeptical until I got here, but he really does seem like a God.)

Azel: That's far enough, you two. Thank you for your hard work.

(Come to think of it, I haven't heard Basil's voice for a while.)

When I turned around, Basil's eyes behind his glasses were shining brighter than the sun, his face full of adoration and reverence.

Kamal, who was beside him, wrapped her arm around Basil's neck and dragged him away.

(...It looks like she's strangling him, is he okay?)

Azel: Excuse me. Akatsuki, did you bring what I asked for?

Akatsuki: Emma.

Emma: Y-yes.

(Right, my luggage.)

I put down my luggage, much lighter than the owner's, on the ground and took out a few books that were on top.

These were the books that the owner had entrusted to me before we left Rhodolite, saying they were for a request.

When I handed them to Prince Azel, I was enveloped in a compassionate smile.

Azel: Thank you. It must have been heavy, right?

Emma: No, it wasn't a problem at all. Thank you very much for your order.

Azel: Thank you, too. Both Akatsuki and Emma, I appreciate you fulfilling my unreasonable request.

(Huh, he knows my name.)

(...Did the owner tell him?)

Azel: Where did you go to purchase these this time?

Akatsuki: Achroite.

Azel: Ah, as expected. That country is a treasure trove of academic books.

Akatsuki: That's the 100th similar book. You never get tired of them.

Azel: I need them.

Emma: Does the Living God have a fondness for astronomy?

The books I handed over were old academic books about the moon and stars.

(I had to look through them all because they needed to be repaired, but they were so difficult I couldn't understand them at all.)

Azel: Not just me. All fortune-tellers in Tanzanite must be interested in the sky.

Azel: The foundation of divination in our country is astrology.

Emma: Astrology...?

Azel: It's what you call astrology. What's popular here is unique to Tanzanite.

Emma: Oh, I didn't know there was a unique method... As expected of the land of divination.

Azel: Right?

Prince Azel's compassionate smile seemed to distort meaningfully for a moment--just for a fleeting moment.

Azel: If you're interested, I can tell your fortune.

Azel: You've come all the way to this place. Please allow me to express my gratitude.

(Divination by the Living God is--)

*flashback*

Akatsuki: His divination is 100% accurate. Like clairvoyance, it has never been wrong, and the people are now in a frenzy.

Akatsuki: Even now, the people of Tanzanite might be witnessing the miracles brought by God.

*back to present*

(I'm hesitant to accept his kindness... but honestly, I'm curious.)

I subtly glanced at the owner, and he nodded encouragingly.

Emma: If it's not too much trouble... may I take you up on your offer?

Azel: Of course. Ah, but since I'm a God, my divination is a bit special.

Azel: I don't use a horoscope; I read the stars you possess directly.

Emma: The stars I possess...?

Azel: It means I can see things that ordinary people can't.

(I see... I can't imagine, but with those eyes, it wouldn't be strange if he could see things differently from ordinary people.)

Azel: It will be a simple divination, but what do you want to know?

Emma: In that case, I want to know about my love life.

Azel: ...Well, I thought you'd say that.

(Huh, for a moment, it seemed like his face twitched... Was it my imagination?)

As if to expose something within me, his mystical eyes, holding the starry sky, peered into mine.

Azel: Well...

Azel: I recommend that you give up on love altogether.

Emma: Is it that bad!?

Azel: Yes, it is. It seems you have no luck with men. Poor you.

Azel: I see a future where you'll be taken in by a bad man, have your money swindled, and be worked like a slave.

(The Living God's divination is 100% accurate... Ugh...)

Azel: But in the end, divination is just divination.

Azel: No matter what I, a God, say, it's you who will ultimately build your future.

(So, both good and bad outcomes depend on my actions.)

Emma: Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.

Azel: Hehe...

Azel: --...You're such an easy mark.

(...Huh? His voice was so quiet I couldn't quite hear him...)

Prince Azel, with a compassionate smile once again, shifted his gaze from me to the owner.

Azel: You will be staying in Tanzanite for a while, won't you?

Akatsuki: Yes. I'd like to get a merchant permit this time as well.

Azel: I've already made arrangements. I've had a guest room prepared at the royal court, so please make yourselves at home.

(A guest room... at the royal court!?)

Akatsuki: Thank you for your hospitality as always.

(And this happens every time!?)

Azel: No, no, it's nothing.

(...I think it's a big deal.)

Azel: You are an indispensable and excellent book merchant to me...

Prince Azel's mystical eyes, which seemed to hold the starry sky, reflected my image.

Azel: I'm sure there will be more opportunities for me to ask Emma for help as well.

Azel: I look forward to working with you both for many years to come.

With the God's watchful eye upon us, we left the temple and stepped onto the sand, heading towards the city visible in the distance.

We passed through the bustling city, fitting for a tourist destination...

And arrived at the magnificent royal court, different from Rhodolite's...

What awaited us was a feast of desert delicacies.

In the spacious dance hall, where the giant moon felt close, many people besides us were gathered.

They seemed to be Tanzanite's nobles, and it looked like a party.

On the stage set up in the center, dancers were performing, and I couldn't help but be captivated by their beauty.

(In Rhodolite, balls are the mainstream...)

(In Tanzanite, it seems like inviting dancers and enjoying them together is the mainstream.)

As I was admiring the scene, a hand reached out from behind and lightly tapped my shoulder.

Clavis: To think you would also come to the royal court? What a stroke of luck.

Luke: What luck? Please don't cause any trouble.

Luke: Or rather, you can cause trouble, but don't involve me and Emma.

Emma: Hehe, as expected... I had a feeling I'd see Prince Clavis and Prince Luke here.

(Even in a foreign castle, these two haven't changed at all.)

A waitress dressed in a beautiful dancer's costume handed us drinks.

It was a refreshingly fruity alcoholic beverage, unexpected in the desert.

The same drink was served to Clavis and Luke, who were state guests, with no difference in treatment from us.

(The fact that we, mere merchants, are treated the same as royalty means...)

(That the residence permit issued by the Living God is highly valued, right?)

(That's how high the God's position is in this country.)

Clavis: Speaking of which, Emma, you met the Living God, right? What was your first impression?

Clavis, who casually pushed his fruit juice onto Luke, picked up a nearby container of water.

(It's almost like intuition, but--)

Emma: He was more compassionate and kind-hearted than I imagined.

Clavis, who had taken a sip of water, let out a small chuckle.

Clavis: ...Pfft... Haha, I see, I see. You're the type of woman who falls for a swindler, aren't you?

Emma: A swindler?

Clavis: Oh, excuse me. But that's surprising. You're the current "Belle" and are good at seeing through people's true nature, aren't you?

Clavis: ...No, that's not right. Or rather, is that impression precisely because you "saw through" him?

Clavis: Hmm, how very interesting. I wonder if it's me or you who's seeing an illusion.

(From the way Clavis is talking, it seems like there might be another side to the compassionate and gentle God?)

???: Prince Clavis, Prince Luke, I hate to interrupt.

The one who broke into our conversation with a friendly voice was a silver-haired man dressed in lavish attire.

Clavis: Enis. Allow me to express my gratitude once again for preparing such a wonderful banquet.

Enis: It's only natural to entertain guests from another country, wouldn't you agree?

Enis: More importantly, the woman next to Akatsuki is a new face...

I hurriedly pulled out the knowledge I had crammed into my head when I was Belle and expressed my greetings.

Clavis: This is Emma. She's a book merchant now, but she was once the Belle of Rhodolite.

Enis: Oh... So that means she's the woman with the most beautiful heart in Rhodolite?

Clavis: Haha, you're well-informed, aren't you?

Enis: I happen to be fond of history books from various countries.

The noble and seemingly affable man extended his hand to me, a merchant, without changing his demeanor.

What was conveyed through his handshake was his good nature.

Enis: I'm the King of Tanzanite, but please feel free to treat me casually. I don't like formality.

(His Majesty the King... This is him!?)

(He's young, though not as young as the newly crowned king of Rhodolite.)

Enis: You are guests of the Living God. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to tell me.

Emma: Thank you very much. I appreciate your kindness.

When I accepted his words with a smile, without showing surprise, Enis-sama widened his eyes slightly.

Enis: I've heard that Belle is chosen from among the daughters of commoners, but you carry yourself with such dignity that I can't believe it.

Enis: You must have worked hard. Please enjoy your time in Tanzanite to the fullest.

Perhaps to avoid interrupting our conversation, the King quickly left after leaving those kind words.

Emma: ...His Majesty the King seems like a kind person too.

Luke: The more they seem like that, the more sinful they are, so be careful, Emma.

Clavis: I hear he has ten wives.

Emma: T-ten!?

Clavis: I hear some of his wives are from foreign countries.

Luke: In other words...

Clavis and Luke each placed a hand on my shoulder.

Clavis: It's time for the bodyguards to step in, right?

Luke: I'll punch anyone who tries to lay a hand on you in Rio's place.

Akatsuki: I'll kill them before that.

Emma: You're all overthinking it!?

(Honestly, it's not that unusual for the King to have multiple wives...)

Suddenly, I remembered the solitary desert castle.

That castle where there was no sign of anyone but the Living God.

(Does God... not love anyone?)

*That night, in her dreams*

(...Huh?)

(This place again...)

Azel: Good evening. I wanted to see you.

.

.

.

Chapter 3

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Interesting. Very Interesting. 🤔

"Get your news from people who have a track record of telling the truth, people who do so at significant personal cost like whistleblowers."-Bill Ackman, Democrat Billionaire Hedgefund Manager

"Billionaire hedge fund manager and longtime Democratic Party donor Bill Ackman has blasted the Democrat party and fake news mainstream media outlets for lying and misleading the country about Joe Biden’s health and mental acuity. The White House, mainstream media, and even Biden’s personal physician have continually defended the Biden, insisting he is in good health and fit to serve. DEI White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre lashed out at conservative media outlets for circulating what she described as “cheap fake videos” of Joe Biden looking old, feeble, and senile. Joe Biden and Barack Obama appeared on stage together earlier this month at a fundraiser in Los Angeles, California. After the fundraiser wrapped up, Obama had to grab Joe Biden’s hand to lead him off stage. Biden was frozen. Barack Obama treated Biden like a nursing home patient and walked him off stage. Earlier this year, during a routine physical at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Biden joked about his health status. When asked about his physical examination and what his doctors had to say, he responded, “They think I look too young,” adding that “Everything’s great” regarding his health. Dr. Kevin O’Connor, responsible for evaluating the 81-year-old President, concluded that despite any perceived physical struggles, Biden is “fit for duty and fully executes all of his responsibilities without any exemptions or accommodations.” Notably, the examination did NOT include a cognitive assessment test. The White House was probably scared of the results, knowing they would doom Biden’s re-election bid for good. However, big-time lefty and longtime Democratic donor Bill Ackman, who previously said he was open to voting for Trump, has publicly blasted the Democratic party and mainstream media for misleading the country about Joe Biden’s mental acuity and health."

@BillAckman

As much as last night was an indictment of the Democratic Party for misleading party members and the country about the mental acuity and health of the president, the media deserve far more derision and scorn. I and others were repeatedly criticized by the media for questioning the competency of the president. Among other false accusations, I was accused of spreading misleading videos which clearly showed Biden’s deterioration.

Do you remember the heavily excerpted and edited @POTUS Biden @60Minutes interview where the interviewer covered for the president by saying he was ‘very tired?’ @60Minutes knew. The @nytimes knew. @CNN knew. @MSNBC knew. Left wing media have had total and complete access to the president, his staff, and his administration. They all knew, but they told you otherwise. They outright lied to you. When Robert Hur, the special counsel who deposed the president, said that the president was not fit to stand trial and therefore chose not to bring charges, the media described him as a tool of the Republican Party and character assassinated him. When the @WSJ recently published a several-thousand-word, carefully researched, front page piece on the president’s mental and physical health, it was described by left wing media as outright propaganda. Now consider who has been feeding you propaganda. A favored technique of some of the most evil leaders in history was to mislead the people by constantly repeating the Big Lie. The Big Lie is so audacious that people accept it as truth because it is repeated so often that how can it be that something so important and material could be an outright falsehood? In this case the Big Lie was our president’s fitness for office, let alone a second term. A media organization is not supposed to be a branch of the Democratic Party. The media have a profound obligation to tell the truth to the American people, particularly about something as critical for the country as the president’s mental and physical health. People very close to me, my closest family and friends, trusted the media on Biden until the @CNN commentators finally owned up to the truth about Biden last night. For months I have been accused by many friends and family of being misled by an @X -based ‘right wing echo chamber.’ The sad reality is that one of our most important institutions, the so-called ‘Fourth Estate,’ fourth only after the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners, has destroyed any remaining credibility it has. Consider how your perception of @POTUS Biden and @realDonaldTrump has been manipulated. The media can no longer save itself. A suggestion. Rely on empirical data as much as possible. Listen to what someone actually said, rather than a headline summary or article about what someone said. Get your news from people who have a track record of telling the truth, people who do so at significant personal cost like whistleblowers. I follow broad constituencies on @X on multiple issues. That has led me closer to the truth. Citizen journalism has been a much more accurate representation of reality. Thank you @elonmusk for saving this platform. It gives us a fighting chance to save our democracy.

[batsplat]

What was the deal with dovi and his two teammates he did NOT get along with? Personal dislike or what?

so I've rattled off the actual details of the dovi/jorge feud here and this post gives great insight for dovi/iannone. the thing about dovi is that it's kind of funny that it happened twice to him of all people, you know? and the fact that there's (to my knowledge) been fuck all reconciliation? like I said here:

which I think is probably like... my general explanation. it's a) circumstance and b) abysmal interpersonal chemistry. in both cases, you've met the general criteria for intra-team issues:

I should have added that the first criterion is a little more complex than that, because it's also about how competitive the bike is versus expectations. if you thought you were going to be fighting for a title and you're not because the bike is shit, then that's not really the time and place to be starting feuds. but by 2015 ducati was very much on the way up again: for a hot moment early that year it looked like dovi might be a genuine title threat in that year and in 2016 they got their first win since 2010. so, suddenly you've got a manufacturer that's reevaluating its current line up and deciding they want a bigger name to lead the actual title charge... which is where you get the stakes from in both those feuds. dovi/iannone was driven in large part by 'which one of us will get fired' and dovi/lorenzo had the tension of 'this is not the challenger ducati was expecting'. so now you are competing over something a little more substantial... and that makes the difference between 'ah whatever I can paper over these interpersonal tensions' and 'you know what fuck this guy'

the interpersonal chemistry question is obviously more opaque, and again you have to say dovi just got a little unlucky in that regard. from how he talks in his autobiography, it seems like the first feud was just a bit of a radical mismatch of personalities. in iannone, dovi sees someone who is arrogant, obsessed with image and too concerned with beating dovi. it's not exactly a surprise that dovi was severely displeased when he thought he would be dropped for iannone. with jorge... well, you can really see how the competitiveness comes in here, right - the relationship was broadly cordial in 2017 when jorge was in the wilderness and then swiftly deteriorated when he actually got to grips with the bike

also, clearly jorge had some slightly weird stuff going on with dovi... idk, some of the passages read like he thought dovi kinda looked down on him? constantly talking about how clever dovi is, how dovi knows what he's doing... the thing about jorge is that he had a lot of stuff going on as a young man and he was overthinking a lot of things... and some of those things were definitely his rivals... and that did affect several of those relationships for quite a few years. then there's the stuff where jorge repeatedly says how much effort he put into that relationship, celebrating dovi's results in 2017, dovi not appreciating it... I mean, maybe? I can imagine dovi being extremely unmoved by this lol, and certainly not feeling like it means jorge has any credit in the bank the following year. he doesn't like jorge, which is fine... but then occasionally he says something in the press with just enough ambiguity that it allows jorge to go absolutely ape shit and it spirals from there. just a bad combination, really. jorge thought he'd be number one, dovi was very possessive of that project and not willing to cede the lead without one hell of a fight... and they have history and they're both not really particularly willing to give each other the benefit of the doubt. not great

as much as I obviously wasn't being serious calling dovi an awful teammate, he's also not that conflict-averse. he's always been opinionated, reasonably willing to get into arguments (including with the ducati higher ups) and also clearly willing to judge his fellow riders, often quite harshly. he's perhaps not particularly inclined to change his mind either once he's made it up... definitely a character, and perhaps not the type who's really interested in reevaluating relationships post-retirement. jorge on his part has mended quite a few bridges, but it really is just with his fellow aliens - you'll note he's repeatedly incredibly rude about dovi's track record and lack of premier class titles. jorge in general can have a bit of a habit of 'punching down' in a way you won't really get from the other aliens. his nostalgia-inflected warmth towards other riders again really does seem pretty limited to just the aliens, which is how you get him doing instagram throwbacks to motegi 2010 (bonkers lol) and all this *gestures* dani stuff... but with him and dovi, neither of them have really made an effort, and I doubt they will. dovi's the type of guy who wants to see himself as honest and straightforward with these things, so no forcing reconciliation after the fact I reckon. what's wrong with a couple of burnt bridges, right

[alumirp]

White Blood, Red Teeth

a story where Luffy is constantly found by his friends having overdoses. It's a terrible behavior that started after Ace's death and everyone thinks it's a horrible coping method and finally gets together to admit him to a rehabilitation clinic. It's against his will, of course, so he resists and has withdrawal attacks and it's so bad that he goes on a hunger strike and loses a huge amount of weight and subsequently ends up with deteriorating health. A year and a half later, finally, after all this, the clinic considers him rehabilitated, although he is still underweight and doesn't eat as much as he should, but everyone is sure that Luffy will never look for drugs again. They are wrong and less than forty-eight hours after being released from the clinic, Zoro and Sanji find Luffy having another overdose in the bathroom of the apartment the three share. This time, the two decide to take a more aggressive approach and go after Luffy's drug dealer. Luffy is always talking about the guy, whom he calls Torao, who supposedly helped him cope with Ace's death. Whenever asked what he's on, Luffy responds "Torao's white blood", which Zoro and Sanji assume is the name of some homemade drug or something. Whatever it is, this Torao guy, is clearly taking advantage of Luffy's grief. to make a profit, so they stop at the drug dealer's address, almost knocking down the door, ready to give this guy 'Torao' a good beating and deliver him directly into the hands of Luffy's grandfather, a half-crazy police officer. They are surprised when the person who answers the door is a guy who goes by the name Penguin, who, strangely enough, lets them in easily after discovering that they are Luffy's friends. The house is nice, clean, airy, comfortable and cozy, everything you don't expect from a drug dealer's house. The place looks practically sterile in a hospital kind of way, which makes sense when they are finally introduced to the infamous Torao, a tall, malnourished guy who walks around on an IV. They confront 'Torao', who introduces himself as actually being Trafalgar Law, about the drugs he has been giving Luffy and the effects it has on their friend and, strangely, are surprised when: Law says he has never given drugs a Luffy and b: Law is surprised and then irritated when he is told about the "Toraos white blood" thing. Law then sighs and surprisingly takes off his shirt and displays his torso, covered in deep, fresh-looking bites, and proceeds to explain the craziest story of all time: Vampires are real and Luffy was turned into one the day Ace died. Law found him, injured and starving, and saved his life. He then explains that he is sick, his blood was infected from a young age with amber lead and he was living on borrowed time, so he had no qualms about feeding Luffy his blood. But they were both taken by surprise by the fact that, every time Luffy fed on him, his condition unexpectedly improved. But Law had no idea that his blood caused Luffy to overdose. He knew that there seemed to be a factor that made him somewhat dependent and Luffy was always lethargic in the first few minutes after feeding, but he never thought that his blood was acting as a drug for Luffy's undead organism. That's why in the year and a half that Luffy simply disappeared, Law, and his friends, simply thought that the vampire had gotten tired of helping Law and had left. They had been surprised when, last night, Luffy appeared out of nowhere on their doorstep and promptly attacked Law, feeding on him until Law was barely able to stay awake. Furthermore, in the time that Luffy was gone, Law's condition simply deteriorated terribly and he was practically convinced that he wouldn't make it until the end of the year. And now, they have to find a way to balance Luffy's feeding so that Law can survive, but in such a way that Luffy doesn't suffer side effects either. Everything becomes a mess when Robin, a mysterious friend of Zoro, gets involved, announcing that in fact, Law has been cursed by a witch.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- cremation but nothing too descriptive (im not sure if that counts as trigger)

A/N- This isn't the end of the fic I promise there's still more...so much more. Anyways let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-64 ~The change had come for her~

“I’m sorry, What?” Anaya spoke, utterly bewildered. She was entirely sure that she’d heard the statement wrong.

“You will lead Ravka’s council” She repeated with certainty.

Anaya’s eyes widened. 

The girl has clearly gone berserk.

“You have the capabilities of being one” She further amended. “You have skills, experience and just the right amount of confidence”

“That, I do” Anaya pursed her lips.

“And didn’t you live in Ketterdam for several years?” Alina asked 

“I did, yeah” Anaya nodded

“Also you have degrees in what, business and finance ?” She furrowed her brows, unable to remember the exact details.

“Business, finance and political science,” Anaya corrected, pointing a finger.

“You don’t need to doubt yourself, Anaya” Alina reassured her. “The country needs you to get back on its feet”. 

“I’m not entirely sure that those people would be willing to follow me” Anaya pursed her lips.

“Then you make them follow you” Alina put a hand on her shoulder. “You prove it to them”.

Anaya looked down at her feet. 

Is that what she truly wanted? She believed some part of her really did.

She had wanted to help people, so that they didn’t end up being used, manipulated and tossed away. 

She wanted to help people so they could live a life where they wouldn’t go to bed at night, fully aware that they might not wake up the next morning.

She wished for Ravka to be a better place, a place suitable for everyone. Not just the rich, the powerful, the soldiers.

She wished for Ravka to be a home.

And she knew she would do all in her power to make that true. 

“Alright” she sighed. “I’ll do it”

Alina smiled. 

“Ravka shall prepare itself for an extremely charming and talented Councillor” Anaya gave her a smug grin

Alina grinned brightly, “I’m afraid they might swoon at your feet”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” Anaya shrugged.

Alina smiled and then wrapped her arms around Anaya. “Thank you, for being by my side when I least expected it,” she said.

Anaya stilled for a moment then wrapped her arms around the girl. “Of course”.

“Take care of yourself” Alina smiled, blinking away her tears

“You too” Anaya smiled, surprised by the strange prickle in her own eyes.

                   ……………………………………………......................

Into the sands of the Unsea, the pyre was a massive mound of birches and white limbs. Atop it lay Ruby, who had been tailored to be the Sun Summoner, a soldier who’d fought by Anaya’s side.

It was astonishing just how much she looked like Alina.

Beside her, lay the Darkling, with his hair neatly combed back, dressed in his black kefta with his hands folded on his chest.

The sun had almost set and dusk was falling, yet the crowd was massive and hadn’t deteriorated in the slightest. Some complained that the Darkling did not deserve to share a pyre with a saint but this was the way it was to be.

They needed to see the end of it.

From beside Nikolai Lantsov and the Apparat who’d just been pardoned, Anaya Nasrazeen stepped front.

The question had come up when they'd been discussing the details of the ceremony.

Nikolai and Genya were propped up near the fire. Zoya was sitting near the table, brandy in hand. David had been scribbling in his notebook. 

"Someone needs to do it," Zoya said, taking a sip from her class. "The people need to know the future of Ravka, that we'll be the ones to lift it back on its feet".

"I don't think I can do it" Nikolai's voice rose. He sighed.

Genya shook her head as well. 

"I can't either," said Zoya, her voice trembling.

"I can do it" Anaya's voice rose, reverberating in the silence. 

Their gazes shifted to her sitting at the far end of the table. 

"What?" She raised her shoulders.

"Anaya, you-" Nikolai began. "You don't have to feel pressured to do this".

But Anaya only remained composed, "It's fine".

She got up from her seat and walked towards the door. "If I need them to follow me" she looked back at him. "I'll need them to know who I am".

“People of Ravka!” Anaya bellowed, her voice booming through the crowd, making them all go silent.

“In front of us lies the very man, who once gave us hope” she glanced at the Darkling. “Hope to make our nation a better place.” 

She stepped forward. 

“However, he was the very man to be consumed by greed and power. He took something from each and every one of us”

“And here lies an innocent girl” she said, glancing at the Sun Summoner. “A girl who was more than the world had presumed her to be. The girl who became our savior, the harbinger of peace, a Saint, when she could’ve chosen not to.” Her voice passed through the massive crowd, reverberating through the dead sands. “She owed the world nothing, yet she gave it her most valuable possession, her life.”

Several chants of “Sankta Alina” went up from the crowd.

“Let us not allow her hard work, her sacrifice be in vain!” Anaya roared. “Today marks the end of a dark age of Ravka, one we’d all been living in."

"And it is the beginning of a new era, a free Ravka, a Ravka gleaming with the flame of hope, a Ravka that is ours” she stood with her back straight, her chin up. 

There was a shift in her demeanor, a new flame burning in her eyes. As if this was the part for her to play all along. 

“Let us not forget” Anaya’s voice was jagged, borne of her struggles, her experiences. “the sacrifice of all those who have laid down their lives for our nation”

Harshaw, Marie, Fedyor, Rabeah, the list stretched on.

“I, Anaya Nasrazeen, pledge to devote my life to make Ravka a better nation, along with each and every one of you” she took a step forward. 

“Let us all work in harmony, to bring about change, for the better, To not let their sacrifices be in vain” She raised her arm, her fist clenched.

“For Ravka!” her voice boomed through the crowd, like the beating of a drum, a grand symphony

“For Ravka!” The crowd bellowed in unison.

She turned back and gave a single nod to the Apparat. 

He raised his hands. 

The Inferni struck their flints. Flame leapt in bright arcs and spread onto the branches.

 The fire grew, flames shimmering, the shaking leaves of a great golden tree. 

The moans and weeping of the crowd grew louder. 

Sankta, they cried. 

Sankta Alina. 

Anaya glanced at the burning pyre, the Darkling’s body with an unprecedented relief. 

The man who had given her everything.

Her lips formed a small frown.

The very man who had taken it all.

She looked at the crowd. Amidst the crowd, she could make out a woman in her purple kefta. Her dark locks falling  on her bronze skin. 

Beside her, a man in his blue, red embroidered kefta. An unfamiliar gleam in his moonlit skin. 

They were gazing at her, smiling.

They were proud.

They were at peace, at last.

[horizon-verizon]

Aerys was not always the “Mad King,” and his reign wasn’t always the chaotic disaster it’s made out to be. For much of his rule, the realm enjoyed relative peace, stability, and a well-stocked treasury. While some attribute this era of calm to Tywin’s role as Hand of the King, this overlooks the conflicts Tywin himself instigated. Even as his mental state deteriorated, Aerys occasionally demonstrated moments of sound judgment, particularly in his ability to delegate effectively to capable subordinates, like Arthur Dayne, who played an important role in maintaining order during his rule. Sure, Aerys had his faults (like the endorsement of Tywin’s brutal suppression of the Reynes and Tarbecks), and his later years were undoubtedly marked by paranoia and cruelty, but even decades later, you see lingering goodwill for the Targaryens among the common people. The Baratheons, Starks, Tullys, and Lannisters have all been associated with wars, instability, and widespread suffering. Dissatisfaction with the current rulers has worsened, leading to a resurgence of pro-Targaryen feelings: “The true king, not Robert and his ilk,” he spat. “There was Crabbs and Brunes and Boggses with Prince Rhaegar on the Trident and in the Kingsguard too. A Hardy, a Cave, a Pyne, and three Crabbs, Clement and Rupert and Clarence the Short. Six foot tall, he was, but short compared to the real Ser Clarence. We're all good dragon men, up Crackclaw way.” (AFFC, Brienne VI) This loyalty to the Targaryens shows up in other ways too, like the puppet shows in King’s Landing. In the plays, the lions—clearly representing the Lannisters—devour their subjects and even the stag. But in the end, a dragon hatches and destroys all the lions: “At the end, a dragon hatches from an egg and devours all of the lions.” (AFFC, Cersei V) This imagery is not subtle—it’s a reflection of how the smallfolk, particularly in King’s Landing, view the Targaryens with a sense of nostalgia (even romanticizing them) as a way to counter their suffering and discontent.

Hard agree, and anon is responding to several posts like this one about how some incorrectly argue that Dany would not have either smallfolk or noble support if/when she arrives at Westeros.

[callsignredwolf]

At Heaven's Gates

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Guardian Angel!Reader Summary: In the vastness of the universe, there exists a world out there where you're Johnny's guardian angel. Warnings: Mentions of major character Death. Word Count: 1577

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You were an angel, born in an instant. Whole and radiant, your soul was bound to another. A mortal soul, belonging to a sweet baby boy with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes of blue. From the moment he drew breath, maybe even before, he was yours to watch over, yours to protect. His entire life was laid out before you, detailed in gold on a long, sprawling ledger. Every high and every low, from beginning to end. And with every moment etched into your mind, you set off to meet him, taking your place as his ever-present shadow, silent and waiting.

There's an old, dirt road leading all the way from Johnny's house to the aging, white church nestled in the hillside. It wasn't a short walk by any means, and he didn't understand why his Ma insisted on rousing the whole family at the peep of day, all so they could don their best garms and shuffle through the dirt, while everyone else road in cars.

"It's a waste, lamb," His mother had said to him that morning, only half paying him mind as she rummaged through her jewelry box. She made a small sound of relief once she found what she had been searching for, attaching the small pearl earring to her ear quickly before leaning into the mirror to check her lipstick.

"And anyway," she continued. "The neighbors only drive because they're wantin' to show off." And then she was on about the stuffy, old women in the church with their saggy stockings and floral perfume that always set her head off hurtin'.

"They're always lookin' as if they've got something to say, but never say it," she was saying, but truth be told, Johnny had stopped listening a while ago. She could go on all she wanted, but none of that explained why he had to suffer out in the chilly morning air wearing shoes that pinched his feet.

"Are you listenin', John?"

He most certainly was not.

"Yeah, Ma, I just don't understand why we've got to walk when no one else does." He knew he was whining, but in his defense, it usually worked in his favor. Johnny was the youngest of his three siblings, and his mother's clear favorite, though she'd never admit it. On most days, all it took was a little pressing and he'd have whatever he wanted. However, this morning did not belong to one of those days.

His mother looked at him through the mirror with an expression that was far less than amused.

"Well then, you clearly weren't listenin, were you?"

"I was, Ma. But-"

"Go on then, John. I won't work it 'round again with you again. We've got to be leaving soon. Go on and wait on the porch. I'll be out in a minute." She turned around to face him properly, giving him a pointed look with his same sapphire eyes. "Go on then."

It was safe to say, from that moment on, Johnny's mood had been ruined and in turn, his behavior only deteriorated as the morning progressed. He followed behind the rest of his family, sulking and kicking up rocks as he went. He hadn't meant for one of the tiny pebbles to soar higher than the others and strike his sister in the ankle, but that didn't save him the scolding form his father. And when his older brother had tried to raise his spirits with a bit of harmless horseplay as they approached the church, it was Johnny that received the stinging pinch to his arm.

"Stop carrying on like that," his mother hissed in his ear. "People will see and think we've raised a lot of heathens."

"You've gotten too big to be actin' a fool like that anyhow," his father added. When Johnny attempted to bring up his brother's involvement, who was a full two years older than his thirteen, he was met with a decisive hush.

Completely put out with his entire family, and in the mood to give them all a dose of punishing silence for the rest of the day, Johnny took his seat on the hard wooden pew, with his arms folded across his chest and a displeased scowl on his face. But despite his rear falling asleep ten minutes into the sermon and the booming voice of the preacher bouncing off the walls, a heavy cloud of sleep settled on Johnny's shoulders. He fought it off as best he could, but it was no use, and the next thing he knew, he was slinking through the church doors in the direction of home, his ear still aching from his mother's iron grip.

Now, the question of where you were this whole time is simply answered. You were with Johnny, as you had been every other moment of his life. From your place high up on the balcony, wooden banister pressing into your ribs, you saw the moment when Johnny had been sent home alone by his mother for falling asleep during service.

Normally, you would have found yourself giggling at the scene playing out before you, entertained by his silly antics. But today you couldn't bring yourself to even crack a smile. Instead, you were fraught with nerves.

The day Johnny was born, you were shown every moment of his life in vivid detail, and some of those moments were marked with stars. Destined and unchangeable, those moments were scattered all throughout his life, moments that would shape who he was as a person. Some were bright and full of love and excitement. Others, such as the one marked for today, loomed like a foreboding cloud that set your stomach fluttering with unease.

You followed behind him, down that long dirt road, an unseen apparition filled with worry. It was a car, set to come barreling down the road at any moment, that would strike your Johnny and send him tumbling down a rabbit hole of pain and brokenness, ambulances and hospital stays.

You'd seen it all yourself, and yet it was still so hard to imagine in this moment, when he walked just out of your reach, whole and unscarred.

The early spring breeze sent the tall grass on either side of the road moving back and forth like the waves of an ocean. Johnny raised his head and looked off at something you couldn't see. You didn't try to follow his gaze to see what caught his attention. Your mind was on something else, a plan that was unfolding suddenly, but still not fast enough.

You didn't have time to think it through, not when you thought you could hear the rumbling of an engine off in the distance. Not when your Johnny was in danger.

There, around his neck, was a sliver of blue. Not quite the color of his eyes, but just as shiny and bright. It was a hand me down, a tie that had been worn by his older cousin, then his brother, and now it hung undone on top of his collar.

You reached for it, unsure if your fingers would even be able to grasp the smooth material, but you decided to take the chance anyway. The surge of elation that flooded your veins as you pulled it free from his neck made you nearly jump for joy.

His head turned in your direction, a look of surprise painting his features. You heard him blurt out a word that would definitely land him in hot water if either of his parents had been around to hear, but you didn't care, taking off into the field of grass at your side with his tie in tow.

Of all the possible ways Johnny could imagine his day getting worse, losing his tie to a stiff breeze had not been one of them. The look in his mother's eyes had all but promised punishment when she returned home from church come the afternoon, and he shuddered to imagine how much angrier she would be if he admitted to losing his tie on the way home. Without hesitating, he darted off after the slip of fabric that was gliding and sailing further away from him with each passing second.

With a gleaming smile curling your lips, you cast a glance over your shoulder, the feeling of triumph practically radiating from you at the sight of Johnny hot on your heels. The road was disappearing as you ran further into the high grass, and when the ill-fated car came barreling down its path, it was nothing but a slash of silver in the distance.

You could hear Johnny closing the distance between you, muttering curses the whole way. You began to slow your pace as you approached a small tree with low branches. You climbed one and then another, dangling the tie from your fingertips in an attempt to look as natural as possible. Whether it did or not, you didn't care. All you cared about was him being safe. Your Johnny was sweaty and out of breath, and safe.

You watched him climb the first branch and then the second one, his face now just inches from yours. He couldn't see you, but as he pulled the tie from your fingers, there was a second, a heartbeat of a moment, where his blue eyes settled on you and warmth flooded your body down to your toes. It was then that you knew you loved him. Your Johnny.

[timhanfounder]

Tim Han Reveals How to He Overcame Racism and Inspired the Lives of 40 Million People

Life wasn't always easy for Tim Han. As a young immigrant boy who experienced a childhood of abuse, racism and pain, it's easy to imagine that Tim would have been resigned to a very hard life. But rather than allow these chains to drag him down, he relied on his spirit and effort to climb out of this life and achieve this that most people could only dream of. And now he's on a mission to change lives and inspire hope in millions through his LMA Life mastery achievers course.

Here is his story.

Growing up

Tim Han's early years were filled with pain and cruelty.  Born in South Korea, Tim endured a horribly abusive father and had to watch with horror as his mother gave everything to support the family on her back.

But while it hurting seeing his mother struggle, he knew then that he needed to do everything he could to help her.

Dealing with racism and an immigrant child

Due to the domestic political turmoil in South Korea,Tim's mother took the family to Poole in the UK. While this was meant to be a fresh start, the reality was even more pain. He experienced incredible racism from his classmates and was mercilessly teased for being different. The bullying got so bad that it lead to genuine violence and he often feared for his physical safety on account of his accent, skin colour and the shape of his eyes.

A troubled coming of age

Tim's reaction was understandable. Violence begets violence and he became a bully himself, completely betraying the vow he made to work hard to protect his mother.

As his grades deteriorated, his hopes of further education were dashed and he continued down a path of violence, vices and even crime.

Starting from the bottom

After a stern intervention from his mother, Tim got a job scrubbing toilets, hardly a position anyone aspires to reach.

He knew something needed to change or his life would go down the toilet too. That's when he discovered personal growth through places like Youtube.

A new lease on life

The topic of personal development was all he wanted to experience  and so he consumed content ravenously. Whether it was paid courses, books, videos and even getting a coach.

His life was completely changed and from there, Tim had an incredible confidence to take on the world as a force for good and founded the Youtube channel Success Insider.

And clearly, Tim was on to something as he had several viral videos that have resonated with a huge number of people. By 2016, Success Insider was the fastest growing personal development channel on Youtube as millions had become inspired by Tim's incredible message.

Helping people today

Tim Han has worked tirelessly to help millions of people all around the globe discover the best versions of themselves and find happiness in their lives. His flagship course, the LMA Life Mastery Achievers Course, has been a smash hit, reaching people in over 59 countries. Jim's story is not unlike many and he shares it not to brag, but to inspire others who feel their lives are mired in the toilets he once cleaned.If you'd like to learn more about the  LMA Life Mastery Achievers Course, be sure to check it out here.

[beardedmrbean]

Muslim pupils who expressed outrage after their teacher presented a Renaissance painting of nude women in class will be disciplined, France’s education minister has said.

A French teacher at the multicultural Jacques-Cartier college showed students the painting Diana and Actaeon by the Italian artist Giuseppe Cesari, which portrays a Greek mythology story in which the hunter Actaeon sees the goddess Diana and her nymphs bathing.

The work, which depicts a naked Diana and four female companions, is held at the Louvre museum in Paris.

Sophie Vénétitay, secretary general of the Snes-FSU secondary school teachers’ union, said: “During a French class, a colleague showed a 17th-century painting that showed naked women.”

“Some students averted their gaze, felt offended, said they were shocked,” said Ms Vénétitay, adding that “some also alleged the teacher made racist comments” during a class discussion.

A pupil’s parent sent an email to the school director saying that his son was prevented from speaking during that discussion and that he would file a complaint.

“We know well that methods like that can lead to a tragedy,” Ms Vénétitay told BFMTV news. “We saw it in the murder of Samuel Paty. Our colleagues feel threatened and in danger.” Teachers at the Issou school said that pupils admitted lying about events in their art class but that the damage had been done. “We’re dealing with vindictive parents who prefer to believe their children than us,” they said. Gabriel Attal, the education minister, visited the school in person on Monday and later said that a disciplinary procedure would be launched “against the students who are responsible for this situation and who have also admitted the facts”.

A team would also be deployed to the school to ensure it adhered to the “values of the republic”, he said.

Staff at the Jacques-Cartier middle school in Issou, west of Paris, refused to work on Monday, saying they feared for their safety given the recent murders of two teachers by jihadi terrorists.

Dominique Bernard was stabbed to death by a Muslim man in his school’s playground in the northern town of Arras in October.

In 2020 a civics teacher, Samuel Paty was stabbed and beheaded by a terrorist in Conflans-Sainte-Honorine, 12 miles from Issou, after he showed his pupils a caricature of Mohammed in a class on free speech.

In an email sent to parents on Friday, teachers said they were exercising their right to stay away from classrooms over the “particularly difficult situation” and “an increase in cases of violence” as their daily reality.

Deteriorating discipline at the school

The school’s head teacher recently asked the education ministry for more staff and resources to deal with deteriorating discipline at the school, saying that fights and death threats and threats of rape had become common among pupils.

“We feel we are clearly in danger. We are supported by our direct superiors but not from higher up. This is a real call for help,” said one teacher.

Last week a Paris court convicted six teenagers over their role in events that led to the beheading of Mr Paty, who was their teacher at the middle school in Conflans when he was killed by Abdoullakh Anzorov, an 18-year-old of Chechen origin.

In another sign of school-religion tensions, the state this week said it would withdraw funding for the country’s biggest state-subsidised Muslim high school. In its teaching of Muslim ethics, the Averroes school, in Lille, was found to be violating French republican values.

On Tuesday, Jordan Bardella, leader of the hard-Right National Rally party, warned that “freedom of expression is under threat in France from an all-conquering political Islam that is imposing on our society its laws, its way of life and its prohibitions”.

[danieljreboot]

"Sources across the NFL were floored by the lack of compensation Carolina received for wide receiver Diontae Johnson. To recap: The Panthers sent Johnson, their leading receiver at 28 years old, to the Ravens for a fifth- and sixth-round pick swap while absorbing all but the prorated league minimum of his salary. The 1-7 Panthers got what may be a 10-12 pick improvement on Day 3 of the 2025 draft while also paying Johnson's salary to go to Baltimore. Though there had been previously reported communication issues between Johnson and the team, the return was lower than expected. It was by far the lowest compensation of the four big-name receivers traded before the deadline.

Multiple sources questioned why the Panthers did not hold on to Johnson for another week. Even if he were inactive for Sunday's game against the Saints, perhaps a better market could emerge for Carolina to deal him. At worst -- and if the relationship had deteriorated beyond repair -- the Panthers could have cut Johnson after the trade deadline to subject him to waivers. Then any team -- and maybe not the Super Bowl-contending Ravens -- could have scooped him up while paying out the remainder of his salary. Carolina could have kept its money, stayed near the top of the sixth round and made a statement to the present and future locker room about how business will be conducted."

Fecking idiotic! GAVE him away to move up from the sixth round to the fifth round!?! That's the best they could do???🤬 Then again, he was NOT a team player and clearly didn't want to be there or put forth any effort to help the team ... so he won't be missed.

[nautilusopus]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @subdee, may as well since it's been a while

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

40

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

590,973

3. What fandoms do you write for?

FFVII mostly, but none of that spinoff bullshit. I have some stuff for XV in the works despite hating XV and the characters having zero fucking personality because this is just my grieving process I guess??? They're basically all crossovers with VII except one though so ¯_(ツ)_/¯

I've also got a couple things for Spy X Family I'm excited for but unfortunately am a bit hamstrung due to certain reveals and lack of reveals so it's on pause.

(Also Ever Crisis and Remake back to back have sucked all the fucking joy out of me in one fell swoop so I'm trying to remember why I even fucking like doing this when FFVII has effectively been erased.)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1)The Number I.

Go read it. I worked hard on it and it's very dense and heavily character-driven and a genfic focused on plot, and, most importantly, is complete. I'm going to shill this one directly I ain't give a damn:

Predominately involves Cloud, now four years out from Meteorfall, struggling to adjust to civilian life given he's still gene-spliced with an Old God, who begins losing control of his body to a heretofore seemingly unknown entity with inscrutable goals. As it gradually becomes clear that the events of the previous four years aren't as they seem in more ways than one, things start to go off the rails completely as Cloud winds up enmeshed in conflict between multiple parties: an international initiative studying cosmology and the two doctors leading it; the WRO, who has considered him a Jenova-based liability from day one; interpersonal friction with his newfound family stemming from the residual baggage of everything he went through; and reality itself beginning to deteriorate.

It's slice of life, it's cosmic horror, it's a character study, it's about grown men crying and legacies and grief and trauma and intimacy and autonomy and gender as a microcosm for broader truths about the nature of the self, it's got angry tearful fistfights, bottoms that haven't figured out you can take it in turn to service top, Cloud telling everyone his strong and correct opinions about magic and materia and bikes, found family shenanigans, and me talking about garlic for way way way too long. Something for everyone!

I wasn't kidding about any of that by the way, heed the warnings at the top of the chapters because I do NOT pull punches and we get into some heavy shit. Go hard or go home.

Originally it was a 500 word pee joke I was gonna show to two people in response to a terrible LTD argument I saw someone make and was sure I'd "wrap it up quickly". Oops.

2) An Idiot's Guide to Holding Hands. I wrote this in response to, I'm not kidding, the worst most hateful fanfiction I have ever fucking seen in my life. As big of a beef as I have with the Crisis Core fuckers treating the women like shit and being pretty hateful towards them as a whole, they're still at least clearly writing because they genuinely love Crisis Core and the characters in it for reasons that are presently unknown to me. This thing on the other hand was oozing contempt for the cast of VII and Evangelion and the women in particular and I genuinely don't know why someone would put that much fucking effort into making something like this and felt a sudden need to rebut everything it stood for. It's not super great as a fic tbh but y'all seem to like it so at least something came of it.

3) Don't Ask How The Job Interview Went. Harry Potter/VII crossover I shat out in like 6 hours on a whim because a Halloween prompt one year was "witches and wizards" and I hated all the existing crossovers (ugh again with the crisis core). Honestly had an entire multichapter fic as a sequel lined up that I was pretty excited for but as things went on I felt grosser and grosser about even making it. Maybe I'll do something with the outline one day, it was basically finished. Still kills me that this thing is so fucking popular but there you go.

4) What's Dead and Buried. This is literally just Chapter 18 of The Number I (which you should go read!). I wrote it, realised it worked great as a standalone fic and gateway drug, and published it as its own thing. If you're on the fence about TNI, maybe check out this oneshot. Features shitty gremlin child Cloud interacting with Vincent and a lot of grim implications about both their lives that Cloud is too young to really get. Very very black comedy.

5) Adjacent. I don't like this one sorry. It was a commission and while I like the individual headcanons of freaky shit Cloud is inclined to do and was chomping at the bit to use them somewhere I don't like how they wound up getting utilised. Feels like generic fandom fluff to me. I'd delete it but people seem to enjoy it and I don't want to take that from them.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always and as soon as I possibly can! I'm immensely flattered people actually take the time to comment on stuff and I enjoy getting to talk about the stuff I wrote in a bit more depth.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's Full of Stars easily. Fucked that dude up beyond repair. Also was considering a sequel for this one too so I could explore some of the stuff fueling what the fuck is going on here, though that might obviously ruin the ambiguity of said ending and what exactly was done to him.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm a big baby I actually almost always try for happy endings, or at least bittersweet. Probably Tidewaters, nobody even gets pulped in that one.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Basically no. I've gotten five negative comments in all the years I've been doing this:

Two were people whinging about how I made Aeris Jewish in a fic and how that was reverse racist against Christians (die mad about it lol).

Two were someone that wanted an in-depth essay over my right to use a slur within the context of a character talking about people calling him that slur in a character arc partially about feeling alienated from gender and basically demanded I out myself to "prove" I could use it while missing literally everything about why that word would be used to where they felt the need to send that shit to begin with (gee thanks did you do it did you make the queers feel comfortable). Reading comprehension is so so important you are all going to kill me.

The last one was a long six paragraph rant completely unrelated to the fic in any way because I joked in the author's notes about not liking a video game that they liked(????), followed by an even longer ten paragraph rant about how actually the unrelated game was "95% perfect" (lmaoooo) and how "5% of it being bad isn't a good reason to hate it". The first half of it's on there, I deleted the second comment because my fanfiction comments are not the fucking gamefaqs forums dude. (Also die mad about it lol.) That remains to this day the only comment I've ever deleted from any of my fics and that includes the one that literally just said "penis" and nothing else.

9. Do you write smut?

If you squint lol. TNI has a couple sex scenes in it. They're uh

they're in it.

Boy are they in it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Hell yeah I do. Also I'm a purist about this term A CROSSOVER IS WHEN YOU CROSS THE TWO THINGS OVER BUT THEY ARE STILL THEIR OWN DISPARATE THINGS. A FUSION IS WHEN THE TWO SETTINGS ARE FUSED. WORDS MEAN THINGS. ALSO A DRABBLE IS 100 WORDS EXACTLY NO MORE NO LESS. I'LL KEEP SITTING ON THIS PORCH SHAKING MY FIST AT THESE CHILDREN UNTIL THEY FUCKING LEARN.

Anyway I'll dump FFVII on everything and nobody can stop me. FFXV. Mass Effect. Spy X Family. Aliens. Ellen Ripley can, should, must, and will fight Jenova with a power loader.   

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah I talk a big game but I ignore the Comp too hard to break into the mainstream. I'm small potatoes.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah and no surprises why. Shit's too wordy.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind of? Fuck I gotta finish that thing.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

meh. Does Loid/Yor even count? Everyone keeps writing it wrong and we still haven't seen the penny drop but it's sweet in its extremely fucking dysfunctional way (which is the best way GO READ TNI COUGH COUGH).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Frame-Perfect. Should not have started writing before finishing the damn outline, don't know how to resolve this thing without it being a massive downer any way you slice it. This is why you should never pants VARETH.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue babyyyyyyy. I literally won an award for it once lol. Probably also psychological horror. Those two things combined means there's a lot of stream of consciousness shit in nearly everything I do, and if that's not your jam you probably won't like it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It is so, so hard to get a character from a location to another location. It shouldn't be hard. Why is it hard??? I should be allowed to just go And then he went, in exactly that cadence every time and everyone should just deal with it UGH 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Extremely hit or miss and you can almost always tell if the person in question doesn't speak it. Use sparingly because you are playing with fire.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FFVII. The Number I is technically my first fanfiction ever, actually!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Either TNI obviously, but also as a whole either Replacements or Tidewaters. Replacements I whipped up on the spot day-of in a few hours on a whim and it basically turned out perfect???? I've never been able to replicate that before or since. Tidewaters is Cloud Yuffie Nanaki shenanigans which I love, and I was shocked and horrified to learn I'm basically the entire tag of that as far as that's concerned (I'm working on rectifying that I promise shhhh).

Everyone I know that writes was already tagged basically uhhhhhhh

@varethinsilico, @denebolaleo-ffwriter, @spectroscopes, @terror-billie, @jenovacomplete, anyone else who wants to take a crack at this pretend I tagged you.

[aerospectrum]

Cas was silent for a very short moment, his eyes up to the sky in thought. “If I try your fruit pizza can I have a gnome to keep?” He asked. “If I keep it clean and safe… and try the pizza?”

There was a curiosity that painted itself on his face and his eyes narrowed even more when he cocked his head to the side. “You don’t need to pretend or make up excuses, he likes you- if he had a megaphone he wouldn’t even need it everyone can see it…” he insisted, sucking in another breath and spinning on his heels to walk back to the bar with her. “Come on, there’s freaks out here.” He broke his comfort zone and looped his arm around hers to start tugging her back to the bar with him.

The faint smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth when Madison admitted to liking Dean. “You’re not his side piece, Dean doesn’t play games with peoples worth like that.” Castiel was intensely serious when he looked at Madison that time. “You’ve only known him for a day or so right? But I’ve known him for years, so you’ve gotta trust me here …

the easiest way to understand Dean is to ask him point blank anything you need to know or want to know you’ve gotta be cut throat and direct with him… no running away at the first sign of nerves or thinking you aren’t good enough or what he wants. He doesn’t go out of his way for just anyone and if you leave.. he lets you.” He shrugged, proof himself of that. Dean wasn’t good at the chase. He never had been. “And if there’s stuff you need to know and don’t know how to ask, then you can ask me and I’ll tell you. Unless I know it’s something he has to tell you then I’ll help you find a way to talk to him… deal?”

Dean leaned against the bar with his face smashed against his face, stressed and red faced and clearly beginning to deteriorate right there as Garth tried to recite some stupid accolade about letting them go so they could come back to him. “Garth, would you shut the hell up and finish your drink man?” Garth shrugged with a drunken giggle when he saw the other two just outside the front window of the bar with Cas leading, but didn’t say anything, he wanted his chance to be smug about being right if they came back inside.

“God I’m a fucking idiot man! I blew chance one and two and now my best friends avoiding me, the girl I like is going home to probably re-change her locks and make sure I never get a chance to talk to her again—.” Dean flopped forward on the bar top with his arms stretched flat out. “If “fuck me” was a person, I’d be it.. I blew it Garth, I blew it with the one woman who’s everything that I’m looking for- how much more pathetic do I have to get?… Jesus.” He grumbled out.

“Yeah I will.” She actually was looking forward to those gummy worms. Knowing cas was willing to share made her smile. “The pizza is good w/ pineapple!” She pouted a bit, “no one wants to even try it.”

“I’m sorry we said that. You’re not weird. Or a kid. Just…. Wanted an excuse to pretend Dean would be mine.” She sighed & rubbed her temples. “You should’ve beat him. He was horrible to me & he hurt me. Made my life horrible.”

“I like him.” Madison admitted. “I didn’t even like Zach. He didn’t do anything for me. Literally….” Her hands twisted nervously. “Dean has been nicer to me than Zach ever was. And…. I can’t help but just want him. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I don’t want to be someone’s side girl anymore. I want someone to want me for me, & to think I’m great. I’m tired of bending over backwards for everyone else & getting nothing in return.”

[dzthenerd490]

File: Chronicle

SCP#: AKO

Code Name: Matt Garetty, Soldier of the Serpent's Hand

Object Class: Prodosa

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AKO is in the unfortunate custody of Group of Interest: The Serpent's Hand and thus has found shelter in the Wanderer’s Library. For obvious reasons no containment procedures will be made now and possibly in the foreseeable future as anomalies that have made it into the Wanderer’s Library rarely if ever get into Foundation custody unless snuck out by MTF units. This is clearly impossible for SCP-AKO’s case, especially since he does not have a fond impression of the Foundation since his discovery. 

Description: SCP-AKO are three boys who seemed to have been exposed to an unknown anomalous material. They are known as SCP-AKO-1, SCP-AKO-2, and SCP-AKO-3 all of which have the same telekinetic abilities. They were originally three normal 18-year-old boys with no anomalous properties until they encountered the unknown material, how exactly this all happened is unknown. When Foundation researchers pinpointed the origin of their anomalous abilities all that was found was an oversized quartz crystal that easily shattered upon the slightest touch. 

Whatever makes each SCP-AKO anomalous seems to be linked to their brain and acts like a muscle. It can grow stronger over time so long as it's used but if stretched too far it will tear, though always grow back stronger than before. This has granted each SCP-AKO individual numerous abilities with their telekinesis such as levitating objects, levitating themselves, controlling acceleration around them, controlling gravity around them, and even being able to enhance their bodies to withstand any force directed at them. Unfortunately, due to two being dead and the third escaping to the custody of the Serpents Hand it's impossible to know if there was a limit or if they could go even farther. 

SCP-AKO was discovered in 2012 when Foundation satellites picked up anomalous wavelengths from the three of them. Foundation command observed them and was initially about to form a simple MTF to capture them all. However, after it was revealed, they could fly and even move large cars, capabilities they previously had according to the reports made the first week of their discovery. It was concluded they were getting stronger as time went by and thus were getting dangerous. Thankfully none of the SCP-AKO individuals seemed to want to bring any legitimate harm to others and were put on a watch list for the moment, at least until a better plan to contain them would be made. As time went on they even decided to suppress their abilities only to use it in the background to enhance small things like their capabilities in a magic show. 

However, SCP-AKO-1 soon started showing clear signs of depression, nihilism, and overall mental deterioration due to social issues in his life. Before the Foundation could create a proper Task Force to deal with him, he ended up in a hospital due to a robbery gone wrong and soon after went on a rampage in [data expunged] city, leading to massive exposure and nearly breaking the veil over the anomalous world. Thankfully MTF Command was quick to implement Protocol “Ignorance is Bliss”, with MTF Gamma-5 already firing bombs with Class B Amnestics.

This did not deny that SCP-AKO-1 was causing damage and getting stronger as time went on. SCP-AKO-3 was trying to stop him but proved to not be as strong and thus was getting beaten badly. Because of the severity of the scenario as well as the massive power required Captain Charlie Wells of Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 “Last Hope” was deployed immediately. Due to Protocol “Ignorance is Bliss” already being implemented the O5 Council and Ethics Committee agreed that Protocol “Censorship” can be disregarded given the circumstances. This led to a bad but quick battle between Captain Charlie Wells and SCP-AKO-1 and SCP-AKO-3. Please see Addendum X-88 for details.

After the battle SCP-AKO-3 retreated and was never seen again, however Foundation agents who enter the Wanderers Library have reported seeing him alongside members of the Serpent's Hand. This unfortunately has led to the Group of Interest gaining a powerful ally that could help them stand toe to toe against MTF Alpha-9.

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SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub