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multiversal-madness · 2 years

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I resurface from my cave to ask this at approximately nearly 3 am...

What would Pillage and Village (+Allays maybe) update be like in MCSM if they were the only updates allowed to exist? Since you said Romeo hides the rest of the updates under a layer of bedrock to keep the Warden away.

I can see some players going out of their way to fight Pillager Scouts and Outposts. Some even daring to find a Woodland Mansion. Unless that's too dangerous?

Who would most likely out of the cast to use Totems of Undying (minus Ivor)?

Last but not least! How was your day?

First off I’ll clarify something I may not have been the clearest about in my version of the Mcsm lore:

In current day Mcsm, there are three layers of bedrock separating four ‘worlds’ of sorts. On top of the top layer is Jesse’s world, the one created by Romeo with much more limited features because Romeo was working alone vs with the others.

Beneath that is the underneath, it has the latest updates of Minecraft since the admins all contributed (particularly Fred because that’s his dimension). However, that world’s bottom layer of bedrock is placed right between the stone and deep slate, cutting off the deep dark from the underneath.

The Deep Dark is an ancient world, older than the admins and the current underneath’s world. The ancient city is where the struggling survivors of the first world fled to when their surface (now destroyed) became uninhabitable. These people however are long gone, having been corrupted by the sculk and turned into either more sculk or wardens. Only one survivor of that world made it out, though he hasn’t told many of his origin.

And below that is the void, not much down there except certain death. Unlike the other layers of bedrock, the one separating the void and the deep dark isn’t perfect, filled with many holes and the such. If anyone was still around to ask (or if the one that does remain would share his knowledge) you’d here the rumours that an old god lives down there.

Another thing to note is that this world (these worlds?) Is the only one like this, as it was the first. The other portals that connect through the hallway are a result of the same event that drove the ancient people underground, hence why they’re partly different, but not completely.

Sorry for the rant (that was longer than I though it’d be), I’ll now get to your questions:

1) Pilllage and village update

Perhaps there’s a few pillagers on the surface, maybe a few outposts and scouts, but I can’t imagine Romeo being fond enough of them to bring too many up. The Underneath however is swarming with them, since they’ve adapted to the harsh conditions.

They do tend to stay away from settlements (Fred’s keep and Romeoburg) though, too scared of what the admin would do to them if they dared attack. (The Oasis didn’t get this luxury). They’d have the Underneath’s equivalent of a woodland mansion, perhaps made of stone or clay instead of wood.

2) Totems of Undying

Totems of undying are very rare to come across, seeing as they can only be made by evokers. Even the old builders can’t make them because even though respawn and the totems have similar uses, they’re too different from one another to be made similarly.

The only way to get them is to hunt down the already rare Illagers, then find an even rarer Evoker, then kill that incredibly dangerous evoker and manage to escape the other Illagers without wasting your newly acquired totem.

Most would say it’s not worth the trouble, but a few of them are floating around. I can’t imagine the old builders caring enough to get them since they already have the respawn, but maybe Jack, being the adventurer that he is, has managed to get one or two.

3) How was your day?

It was good, thank you :3

#mcsm #mcsm au #minecraft story mode #ask #imagination-confusion #Mcsm headcanons #my made up lore/au lore for mcsm is expansive lol

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lunaraen · 6 years

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"“God knows what you’ve been doing, everything you’ve been doing. You may fool me, but you can’t fool God!’” With... Whatever you think would work with it, actually. Any characters, fandom, whatever you will! It's a broad prompt.

Even before snagging all theglory and fame he could ever want, every bit of recognition and power he couldlatch onto and try to absorb, Soren had people yelling at him. Sometimesfriends in frenzied fun, other times less friendly people who were less thanpleased with his tests and interests.

By all accounts and more, heshould be used to it.

He is not, not when those wordsstrike him to the core and make him feel like his insides have shattered andbeen scattered to the wind in one blow while he has to keep a bemused, slightlyterrified, but mostly neutral expression.

“God knows what you’ve beendoing, everything you’ve been doing. You may fool me, but you can’t foolGod!”

He raises an eyebrow while hisblood runs cold, and it’s to Soren’s benefit that he’s always been one to laughand smile awkwardly at uncomfortable situations, the nervous grin his givesmaking him look as befuddled as the audience and the two burly individuals whoare busy dragging the indignant intruder away.

(It turns out she’s more annoyedand scandalized by how he and his friends are touting about the slaughter ofthe Ender Dragon, which confirms the Dragon did indeed exist and that’sapparently against a good number of her core beliefs and he’s not sure what todo about that but laugh for the reporters and feel very, very relieved as thequestions begin again and stay as mundane and harmless as they were before.

How silly that someone wouldthink they’d lie about the dragon fortheir fame.

Soren focuses on blindinglybright lights and the eager scribbling of everyone nearby who has a pen and anyform of paper, acting like he doesn’t notice the way Ellegaard and Magnus areshifting to his right and how Gabriel’s gone still at his left.

Positively ridiculous.

It’s not as if Soren’s heart ispounding in his ears or as if the slowly thawing blood in his veins is onlymoving at all because there was no sign of involvement from a certainalchemist. Not that anyone in their right mind would stand against the order ofbrave heroes that singlehandedly defeated the most terrifying monstrosity inthis or any other realm, of course.

Hah.)

Soren’s hardly in any position toknock down the beliefs of others, but personally he has trouble believing indeities when he feels like one, when with the flick of his wrist and the rightbutton push he can blink things out of existence.

Not when he knows of Old Buildersand Admins and an infinite number of worlds where anything is possible, wherehe’s sure a command block could still make a person a ruler in any of them.

Not when throngs and hordes ofpeople adore him for merely existing even as the others drift, as reporterafter fan after nosy busybody wonders what he’ll do next, if he’ll follow inthe footsteps of his friends.

And all the same, while it’shardly the first time some fanatic’s interrupted an interview or appearance andit certainly isn’t the last, the words stay with Soren, clinging to his mind.

It helps no one that they onlydig in deeper when he has nothing to listen to but the thrum of the commandblock and the silence of being alone.

Gabriel’s already taken to havinghis own temple away from theirs, in the middle of the woods in an area south ofnowhere and north of nonexistence, and wherever Ellegaard and Magnus go,increasingly further away from each other as banter turns to fighting beforedissolving into awkward silences and bitter back and forths and then nothing atall, their fans are sure to follow in droves.

(He can’t remember when Magnusstarted smoking so much or when Ellegaard stopped joining Soren for experimentsor even just chats.

He’s sure it doesn’t matter.

His friends are living it up asheroes, heroes of his making, heroes that owe him everything, and Sorensupposes he could join them.

It would be easier to do so ifmore and more of him didn’t seem to be growing more attached to his own powerand what he could potentially do with it.)

He has a fully finished fortress,gorgeous and intricate and as extravagant as he wants thanks to having all thepowers and items he could ever want, and while it’s perfectly dramatic, filledwith winding hallways and different rooms as it all sits safely within themountains, he won’t be staying much longer.

There’s no point.

The last visitor he had thatwasn’t a reporter, and even those have dwindled, was Ellegaard, and she made itclear she felt considerably unsettled, even with how close the fortress is totheir old temple.

(Maybe that’s why. He’s not sure;he didn’t ask. It was just another rejection of something he was willing tooffer his friends, but it wasn’t surprising. He wasn’t offering her more poweror prestige than she already had. Even Ivor, who had despised and spat on whatSoren offered him despite it being able to help them all so much, demanded thetrinkets and rewards from their adventures, had demanded Soren’s possessionswhile rejecting Soren himself.

That seems to be the trend.)

There’s an empty domain waitingfor him in the End, filled with his favorite creatures and none of his friends,famous or forgotten.

And destroying the Dragon wasmore removing it from reality entirely than absorbing any part of its essenceor being, but Soren feels like a dragon at the best of times now, never mindhis worst points, where he aches for friends who’ve taken what they’ve wantedfrom him and left, the itch for moreburied beneath his skin like scales waiting to grow and stretch beyond his softskin.

He wants it all. He wants torecognize his place, his power, and have everyone see that he’s more than theleader and architect. They’re fine titles, surely, but so minor in comparisonto being recognized as a god, as the deity he feels like and could become.

And maybe, just maybe, heshouldn’t have that. Not when every bit of adoration comes with the razor’sedge of knowing it’s fueled by and founded in lies.

But it’s a little too late to doanything about that now, isn’t it?

The best he can try is leavingthe command block behind, safely locked away where no one can reach it, dimlyglowing and softly beeping even as he seals it away and tries to ignore thesharp tug at his core.

None of the others know where itis, and Soren will be in a different realm entirely.

He’s a changed man, but even heknows better than to entertain the thought of godhood, especially with howreceptive all of him is to it.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #nyanshadowforce

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shades-of-ivar · 6 years

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Breathtaking in red

Ivar x Y/N

Note: This was written in memos on my phone just hours after seeing Ivar for the first time in Vikings Season 5, So it was written within that time frame, with a lot of original parts

Warnings: Smut, language, under-aged, violence, minor mistakes (possibly) and semi-graphic death scenes

You was assigned years before the war to protect Ivar, not that he needed much protection. He might be a cripple but at his teenage years he is strong and much knew and feared him.

Over the years yours and his friendship was much like how y’all childhood friendship was. humor-filled and strictly PG. Ivar looked on at the battle from the tower, his hood cast over his face shielding his expression. But you didn’t need to see his face to know he was angry, he hated to be an onlooker to any war. Ivar was a skillful, brave and ruthless warrior but, the truth was that fighting from the ground wasn’t much of a fight at all.

“Ivar i know what your thinking,” You rest a hand on his shoulder offering some sort of comfort.

“I should be out there (y/n),” He clenches his fist in anger.

“You are a great warrior Ivar, how great would you be dead?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments before spinning to face you on his stool. ”You are right (y/n), could you help me to a bath?”you smile following his commands, you walk to the bathroom turning on the water. As the water poured it almost drowned the sound of men screaming in combat. It’s almost unbelievable to think Ivar gave up that easily, and to take something like a bath at this time of day? how strange. “ Sorry to do this to you (y/n),” While in your thoughts, Ivar had crawled his way from his stool to the bathroom door, before you can stand from his words he shuts the door locking you in from the outside. How stupid to have a lock on the outside.

Fuck! You thought cursing every God you knew for giving him such impeccable upper body strength. “Ivar” you call banging on the door. “Ivar,” you yelled for the second time, this time you knew he had left the tower. Sadly, there was noone near or close by the tower to possibly recuse you, so you have to rescue yourself then the crazy man named Ivar.

You used anything solid to toss at the door to no avail, so you resorted into using you body to slam against it. With each powerful slam you retreated with a terrible ache in your shoulder, but you didn’t give up. The screams from the men below could possibly be Ivar’s you couldn’t let him die. you slammed into the door for the fifteenth time and you went down with the wooden door. Fuck whoever built this door and their future families!

You grabbed an axe that was left on the floor running out the tower to the battle. You ducked under every blade that came your way, your only concern was Ivar. Finally you spot him, seated in front his carriage laughing in mockery at two enemies that held towards his weapon-less self.Crazy stupid idiot!

You ran straight towards the two enemies, they see you coming and diverted their weapons. They were smirking , they believed that the beautiful woman dressed in nothing but a white dress that was browning at its hems from mud could possibly know how to wield the axe she held. You let out a cry of a warrior, Skating on your knees through the dirt slicing the closest enemies leg bringing him to his knees. The other enemy attack right after being the first to die with an axe impaled in his chest. You didn’t have time to dislodge the axe before the first enemy was back onto his feet swinging his sword at your head. You ducked out of the way only to receive a kick to the chest sending you to the dirt gasping for air.

“(y/n)!” Ivar yells tossing me a pocket sized knife.

You caught it and rolled out of the way narrowly missing the blade that came slashing down to the dirt. You stabbed his uninjured leg sending him down once again.You crawled on top of him bring the knife above your head before stabbing him in his eye with great force. His cries died as you continued to stab him continuously, over and over again, each time blood flying on you. You only stopped after his brain was visible and your dress was now crimson. You looked up through your blood soaked eye lashes at a grinning Ivar, he was staring at you with such passion it confused you- for you had never seen him show so much emotion to anyone. His eyes held so much intensity, the same intensity that you will see later on that day.You were almost swimming in the ocean that was his eyes until you remembered he was the reason for the ruining of your favorite dress, your blank stare the changed to an angry glare.

“Ivar” You say as you slowly raise from the limp male.

“You look breath taking in red,” he compliments flashing you his blood stained teeth. His longing eyes moved from you to the line of enemies that was now behind you. Before he can warn you Ivor’s warriors run in behind him- in front you-.

There was a sickening silence for a moment but not long after it was filled with the spine chilling cackles of Ivar, with that the battle restarts.You turned your back to Ivor picking up a sword ready to give your life for the man sitting behind you, you fended off all the men that came near Ivar, either killing or badly wounding them. Ivar’s warriors formed a defensive circle around the both of you fighting off any enemies.”Get him out of here!” Ivar’s eldest brother commands you.

You turned to Ivor with the sword still in hand bending to help him to his feet, he wraps his arm around yo r neck while you wrap yours around his side with your free hand walking as fast as you could to your house.

“You stupid teenaged idiot!” You insult after dropping him on your bed.

You rush over to shut the front door that you left open locking it.”You are aware that you are also a teenager, exactly five months older than myself,” he states now sitting upright on the bed with his feet on the ground.

“You could have died!”

“But i didn’t,” he says way to calmly for your liking.

You rest the bloody sword on the bed replacing it with a kitchen knife. You walked to Ivar glaring at him with such anger that he felt almost threatened. You shoved him down on the bed climbing onto his lap, you placed a knife to his neck pressing it against his skin. “Maybe i should do you favor, since you want to die so badly Ivar,” you say with a crazed look in your eye.

Ivar always knew there was something about you that he liked, and that crazy look that you were giving him drove him mad and his only operating lower half hard. “You wouldn’t, you love me to much,” His words shocked you, you leaned back removing the knife narrowing you eyes at his blood smeared face that held a smirk.

You climbed off him walking away to the kitchen, he raised himself to his elbows following you with his eyes. “What is my beautiful warrior doing now?” he says finding amusement in your anger.

You grabbed the first glass object you saw throwing it at him, he quickly lay back letting the glass smash against the wooden walls above his head surprisingly not cutting him. “I do not love you!” I hurled another and he rolls away skillfully sitting upright soon after, he laughs and clap him hands.

“You remind me of Bjorn’s mother, father said she has a good arm,”

You march back over to him grabbing his shoulders and pushing him down, but in a swift moment you were now under him. His arms held himself above you as he stared into your eyes, he wipes away the tears that you didn’t know had fallen and blood that was still on my face. “I am alive (y/k), and you do actually look striking in my enemy’s blood,”he joked once more. You almost caught yourself saying it back, because as much as you were angry you had to admit he also looked breathtaking in red. You yell in frustration pounding against his chest, it sickened you how he cared not about his life.”Stop it,” yet i continued. “I said stop!” he growls grabbing your face tightly staring angrily into your eyes.

The anger slowly fades as our stare continue. He timidly brings his blood stained lips to mines, the metallic taste of blood didn’t stop the kiss from progressing to a harsh one. Both of you start breathing heavily and your hands starts roaming roaming to the front of his armored top, you unfasten it quickly and threw it out of sight. It was his turn to discard of your clothes but he didn’t want to disconnect his lips from yours again so he rips open your dress, tearing it all the way to the end exposing your bare breast and most intimate area. “You idiot that was my favorite dress,”you mutter making it a habit of calling him ‘idiot’. “I’ll let the slaves maidens make a thousand more, my love,” he was trailing kisses down your neck which was very distracting but the last words he said made your heart skip multiple beats.

You grab his face pulling it up to mines, you needed to see those sadistic yet heart warming eyes.”You love?” You ask needing reassurance.

“I do, you are the only woman i love, have been loving and will ever love.” He connects his lips with yours again but you pull away again.

Ivar was loved by his parents from birth, all the children of Ragnar knew by the extra attention he would receive and it had nothing to do with his disability. But woman, woman was a different story, he grew believing that he would never have a wife, until he met you of course. At the young age of seven, he had chosen his wife, he even told his father. The old farmer’s niece that used sticks as swords to fight imaginary enemy’s, that climbed tall trees to sneak his favorite fruits to him, the girl that consoled him when he left useless- would be his wife that he will wed and bed. His father said to him to have patience and keep the special girl close until he comes of age, but patience wasn’t an option when the ‘special girl’ was naked in all her glory below him.

“Fuck me Ivar, let me scream your name, let me have your children,”

He grins showing his no longer blood stained teeth. “As you wish”

You smile reaching for his pants unbuckling it and pushing it down with your feet to his ankles. At this moment you was now thanking the Gods you previously cursed for allowing his dick to be fully functional.

You spread my legs wider and he groans feeling your heat against his hard member. “You naughty girl, you should punish you for fighting men without under garments on,”

You roll your eyes at his threat and hiss as he drags his dick against you. ”Maybe if you hadn’t the tower you would have discovered that,”

He placed a hand on your stomach and the other on the bed for support, he slowly pushes himself in proving he had amazing aim other than with his hands. You claw his back throwing your head back into the pillow moaning out in ecstasy , he filled you reaching places no man had ever.”Ivar” you moan as he rocked into you at a steady pace.

“Scream my name (y/n), let our enemies know how good i am to you,” he growls in your ear, biting it after his words. He starts pounding into you mercilessly, his balls slapping against your ass with much force.”Oh Gods, yes!, yes Ivar!” you was in such bliss you was incapable of making a proper sentence. Your hand moved from his shoulder to his blood stained hair, his grunts got louder as his supporting hand start to wobble loosing strength. He collapse onto his elbows falling onto your chest as the different enemies blood mixed together.

“Make me my sons and daughters,” He commands taking a breast into his mouth for a brief moment before resting his forehead against yours to stare into your eyes with love and intensity. You both moan loading releasing at the same time, you were withering in pleasure beneath him. He rolls next to you onto the wolves fur cover, he took a few breaths before turning to you again. “Climb onto my face love, let me taste you,” you turned to look at him trying to catch your breath, where could he possibly have all this stamina from? he just fought in a war! He raises and eyebrow at you after he noticed you had been staring for a few seconds to long.

He chuckles grabbing your arm pulling you on top of him. “Do i have to help ypu do everything?” you giggled like a small child leaning down an pecked his lips gently, his eyes fluttered close for a second enjoying the gentleness -even though he wasn’t a gentle person. “I want to taste your pussy, not your lips,”. He drags you up his body to his chest and you walked on my knees till you was hovering over his face. He licks his lips anticipating the taste of you. “Stop teasing me!” He wraps his arms around you legs pulling you down onto his outstretched tongue.

He had a skillful tongue that had you struggling to get away, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. “Fuck Ivar!, i cant!” he smirked against you enjoying your squirming. You were so close to your second orgasm but the door burst open. You raise from Ivar’s face allowing him to look towards the door, there stood three enemies with axes. They had all seemed to freeze at the entrance staring at your nude body, obviously forgetting this was a war and not a whore show.

“Stop watching her!” Ivar commands bringing their attention to him. They raise their axes in a stance to attack, you narrow you eyes grabbing the bow that was hanging on the wall above your bed and the arrows by the window sill.

In a quick second an arrow was lodged into an enemy’s head sending him to the ground.

“You dead men! you interrupted my orgasm!,” you shoot another arrow that missed both men due to Ivar pulling you back down to his lips, you moan dropping your hand with the arrow for a short moment.

The enemies roared into action running towards you, and then commenced sex while in battle.

But that was another story for another time.

#ivar #ivar lothbrok #the boneless #imagine #ivar x reader #smut #story #love #war #vikings #lemon

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texastheband · 5 years

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The Best Little Sex Bomb In Texas

Interview by Miranda Sawyer, Photography by Wayne Maser Taken from British GQ - January 2004

There are many reasons to like Sharleen Spiteri. She's broken her nose four times. She once painted a mural of Che Guevara that covered her dad's garage wall. She understands that sexiness is more than "tits and arse. Well, straightforward tits and arse, anyway". She owns the original Blondie Parallel Lines mini-dress, given to her personally by Debbie Harry. She has a voice that can sound as heartworn as Dusty Springfield, as bed-borne as Chrissie Hynde. Her favourite term of abuse is "complete fanny". And, unlike most women, she looks fab in mens clothing. Actually, she's the type of insouciant beauty that would look good in a black sack; which is lucky, as that's what she appears to be wearing. We're in J Sheekey's restaurant in Covent Garden. Sharleen's just come from Top Of The Pops, where she and her band, Texas, performed their recent single, "Carnival Girl", with Ragga MC, Kardinal Offishall. She's still wearing her telly outfit: a black all-in-one, though she's swapped her take-your-eye-out stilettos for take-your-knee-out bower boots. Her hair is blunt-cut and tickles her eyelashes. She is small, dark-eyed, full-mouthed, French-looking; sultry, like her photos, but not sulky. In fact, Sharleen doesn’t stop chatting, in her throaty Glaswegian tones, about any topic you care to bring up: films, food, fashion, stripping... There's been a suggestion that she and I, as thirtysomething bonnes viveuses, would like to spend the evening in a strip club. But the only one that Sharleen will even consider checking out is a hardcore gay men's kit-off night in a notorious East End pub.

"You'll not drag me to any of that Spearmint-Rhino-Peter-Stringfellow naff old rubbish," she roars. "We'll go to Amateur Night at the White Swan. There's £1.ooo for the best act!" She announces this to me, but also to the J Sheekey waiting staff too, who clearly know and like her. "You'd better tell me all about it," says one to her, conspiratorially. "I want size, technique, all the details..." Sharleen is good at making friends: whether stars (Madonna, Stella, Gwyneth), or us lesser mortals. She's fearless, unsnobbish company, with a lewd anecdote or two up her sack-sleeve, and, unlike many famous people, she knows how to listen. She'd have made a great hairdresser. "I was a great hairdresser!" she laughs. "My tips were wicked! And people told me everything - I got loads of scandal, stuff about wife-swapping circles. But what I was really known for was when people brought in pictures of celebrities and said, 'That's the way I want my hair'. I'd put my hand over the celebrity's face and say, 'Is that really what you want? Cos we don't do faces in here, we just do hair."' She tells it like it is, does Shar. Ask her whether Texas is a democracy, and she says: "No way. Texas is me and Johnny (McElhone). The band formed around that, we write the songs together and the rest of the band either gets that or gets out. And they're totally fine with me getting all the attention. They're happy getting the money and none of the grief." The tuneful pop-rock band that is Texas formed in Glasgow in 1986, when 18-year-old Sharleen, a hairdresser and art student, met Johnny McElhone. Johnny, then 23, had played bass in Altered Images (he joined when he was just 15: his parents had to sign his contract for him), and later, in Hipsway. On a whim he asked Sharleen if she wanted to sing for a new band he was putting together. The audition was arranged, "but I never turned up", says Shar. "I thought he was sleazing me." Luckily, Johnny, who wasn't, called again. This time Sharleen went along, sang Culture Club's "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me", and Texas were formed. The first song Johnny and Sharleen wrote together was "I Don't Want A Lover". In between spoonfulls of potted shrimp, Sharleen explains that she'd never thought of herself as a singer, because every Spiteri sang. Her father's family is Italian, her mother's French, and at reunions, every family member would have to perform a song, wether they wanted to or not. "But I never got attention, because my cousins did the crowd-pleasers", she sniffs. "Never a dry eye in the house when they sang." Sharleen didn't approve of such obvious tactics, and when Texas got a record contract, she was prickly with it, insisting on always being pictured with a member of the band or with her guitar, never being interviewed separately, dressing mannishly, not smiling. Her idols were Chrissie Hynde, Patti Smith, Siouxsie Sioux. It was the late Eighties. She was Scottish. She was serious. In 1989, "I Don't Want A Lover" went Top ten in the UK, and Texas' first LP Southside, sold 1.3m copies. But the two follow-ups, Mothers Heaven and Ricks Road, didn't do so well, and around 1995, the band went into crisis mode. "We were nothing in Britain," says Sharleen, "but, because we were successful everywhere else, the record company were tiptoe-ing round us. I knew I wasnae important: I felt like screaming, 'Stop wrapping me in cotton wool!' Also, in Glasgow, everyone knew us, we were big fish in a small pond. I'd rather be a small fish in a big pond. The whole atmosphere was making me claustrophobic. So I moved to Paris." Paris proved "un tonique" for our Texan trouper. Sharleen wrote "Say What You Want" on a Paris rooftop, drinking a large glass of red wine. She met fashion journalist Ashley Heath, her partner, at a party. (They bonded over an argument about music.) Being away from home, and being able cope with that, boosted her confidence. Though you wouldn't think it now, Sharleen was "very, very, quiet" at school: not quite the ugly mate, but the one that boys approached, not to ask out, but to ask if her friend would go out with them. "The whole time I just thought, `What the fuck am I doing here?"' She left at 15: she has no contact with any former classmates. Anyway, in 1996, the Shiny! Sexy! New! Texas appeared, with Sharleen very much to the fore. For the first time, she had the self-assurance to use her languidly erotic looks. In videos, she rolled around in sea shallows, and made fully-clothed love to some lucky model. In pictures, she pulled at her hair and bit her lip. She was incredible sexy, but not straightforwardly so; what she was, was cool. It irritates Sharleen when people think that this was somehow acquired illegally: that her chic was painted on late, without serving her dues, manipulated by the boyfriend or her record company. As she points out, she found her feet first in fashion and art, and her hairdressing skills took her on shoots around the world. Sharleen does have that fashion instinct: she loves seeking out new designers and musicians, collaborating with them before they get too well-known. "But everyone gets to know about them in no time at all now!" she laughs. "You know, there is no story behind how I got cool. Of course I'm trying to be cool. Everyone is. And I always was cool: at least I thought so. Even in 1989, when I was wearing a biker jacket and jeans, trying to be more androgynous than everybody else, referencing the Clash, I thought I was dead, dead trendy. I did it myself. I didnt even have a stylist until [the band's fifth album] The Hush."

And of course, she could have done Miss Wet T-shirt until she dissolved and it wouldn't have made any difference if Texas hadn't come up with the songs. But they did: White On Blonde was a Number One, four-million-selling smash, that produced four Top Ten singles ("Say What You Want", "Halo", "Black Eyed Boy" and "Put Your Arms Around Me") and earned Sharleen and Johnny an Ivor Novello Award for Outstanding Song Collection. The band's next two LPs, The Hush (1999), and The Greatest Hits (2000), also stormed the charts. Texas have now sold 20m records worldwide. Weirdly, though, it wasn't until 2001, when the band took another break, that Sharleen truly came to mainstream attention. Over the last few years, Sharleen Spiteri has moved from being the hip bird out of Texas to becoming Heat fodder. Blame that heady contemporary combination of famous friends, and getting pregnant. Still, the interest took her by surprise. "You expect to have your photo taken if you're at a fashion show, or coming out of a posh restaurant," she says. ": when you're struggling with your shopping, looking like a whale? Cheers. Being pregnant is really the best time to be papped, you know." She's squared up to paparazzi in the past, slamming her car into reverse and almost driving into a following photographer, then getting out and ranting at him through the window. "The whole time I was having a go, he and his mate wouldn't look at me, they just looked straight ahead. The before he drove off, he said, `See that car on the other side of the road? He's following you too."' Still, she managed to avoid an embarrassing picture when, at eight months pregnant, she locked herself out of her house near Regent' Park and had to hoik herself and her bags over the iron gates: "Now, that really would have been a horrendous sight." One shot that everyone did see was of Sharleen's friend, Arsenal's Thierry Henry. On 10 September 2002, the day after Sharleen's daughter, Misty Kid, was born, Arsenal played Manchester City; Henry scored the winner and ripped off his shirt to reveal a slogan that read, "For the new born Kid". "That could have cost TT 30 grand," grins Sharpen. Luckily they decided not to fine him." "TT" often pops over for a chat. Does Sharpen ever feel weird when famous people come round? Only once," she muses, "when Debbie Harry came over, and was sitting in my kitchen eating dinner, being so nice. She was such an idol of mine when I was young. But otherwise, it's only when it freaks someone else out. I don't divide my friends into celebrities and non-celebrities, don't think like that. So they mix up in my house, and it's only when a friend phones up the next day and goes, `That was some evening!' that I think about it."

Still, I think it's important to Sharleen to be accepted by credible famous people, because she's spent so long having her band dismissed by snotty critics. Despite her own hipster kudos, despite the band's collaborations with the Wu-Tang Clan, Rae and Christian, and now Kardinal Offishall, Texas' music has often been labelled "safe", or naff". Having TT and Debbie et al onside shows that she is cool and that, allied with her immense songwriting success, means she can cheerfully say, "Sod the lot of you". The girl is fashion-conscious, she wants respect: you can't blame her. Anyhow, celebrity fact alert! Coldplay's frontman Chris Martin now lives in Sharleen's old flat: "We call it the House of Hits," she grins. And there are more of those coming: Texas' latest album, Careful What You Wish For, is Peppered with potential hits that play to the band's proven strengths: catchy, dreamy tunes, evocative guitars and Sharleen's gorgeous voice. The new single, "I'll See It Through", has all this in spades, and sounds like Dusty Springfield singing Burt Bacharach. But there are plenty of other singles there: "Telephone X", a Blondie-style stomp; "And I Dream", which recalls the exuberance of Madonna's "Ray Of Light"; the title track, a hand-clapping singalong. After 16 years in the business, it's obvious that the girl knows what she's doing. Unfortunately, after three hours at Sheekey's, I'm not sure that I do. The wine has gone down very easily, the conversation hasn't stopped. We've discussed DIY - Sharleen's great at it, especially shelves; underwear - "I am very particular about my knickers"; scars - Sharleen has five: forehead, hand, left eye, both knees; the hyperactivity of parents - her retired merchant seaman father does the lights for Texas' live show; the madness of boyfriends - Heath initially told his mum and dad that Sharpen worked in Glasgow Airport, but forgot to tell her: "I couldn't work out why his mum kept asking me about Duty Free." Misty Kid gets a few mentions: she's a climber, like her mum; stubborn, like both her parents. We spend quite some time talking about song-writing. Sharleen starts a new notebook for each Texas album and fills it with ideas and lyrics. Sometimes she only needs one, sometimes three. Careful What You Wish For was a two-notebook LP. She has no formula for writing, and she'll always sacrifice a word for a melody.

But, well, bollocks to such serious talk! It's stripper-time! Off we go in search of a place where pecs are expected and the knackers hang free. The White Swan is legendary as being the place where Michael Barrymore came out; it's an old-school gay man's pub, rather than a metrosexual bar. Its Amateur Night has gained a bit of a reputation recently, as a night of laughter and never forgetting. We pull up outside and skip to the door. There's a sign that says "Men Only Tonight", but we are undeterred; after all, Sharleen is a "dykon'' in a boiler suit, and my shoes are certainly sensible. But a big, bald man stops us at entry. "No women," he says, shortly. Sharpen argues; her female friends have been in before. No luck. We try chatting up some arriving punters, to no avail. Sharleen doesn't resort to "do you know who I am?", but you'd think they would: she played the London Astoria's self-explanatory G-A-Y a week-and-a-half ago, and was recently featured in gay magazine Boyz. She tries again. The big, bald man says bigly, baldly: "Go away." Curses! Thwarted. "Goes to show that you can be as famous as you like and it's not a passport to everywhere," shrugs Sharpen. "Shall we go back to mine? I'll get my boyfriend to strip." We do; he, thankfully, doesn't. And, chat-chat-chatting in her big comfy kitchen, the plasma screen playing MTV with the sound down, Misty's toys strewn across the floor, you understand why Sharpen attracts cool people. It's hardly sensational but, the simple facts are: Sharpen Spiteri is talented, hilarious, and the sexiest night out you can have when everyone keeps their clothes on.

#article #carefulwhatyouwishfor #British GQ #GQ #Wayne Maser #WayneMaser #SharleenSpiteri #Sharleen Spiteri #Sharleen #Spiteri

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thelapismoon · 7 years

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Spoilers for MCSM episode 8

Here’s that Ivor death scene I decided to re-write

spoilers under the line

Jesse and Ivor jumped into the water, the suffocating heat of the lava still penetrating their skin.

Yet, these torturous games were nowhere near done.

The recent challenge had just been the beginning.

But there was no time to contemplate anything, since the most important thing to Jesse at the moment was to keep her head above the freezing cold water that kept trying to splash into her mouth and nose.

Almost as soon as it had started, the frigid water came rushing down, sending both the alchemist and the brown haired warrior down into the next cruel tournament.

Jesse and Ivor splashed down into a moat of some sorts before they immediately waded out, not knowing what could be lurking in the murky depths.

Jesse pulled herself onto the stone floor, Ivor following her.

The two stood up, Jesse instantly feeling the icy dampness of the air leech into her bones. The brunette hunched her shoulders over, ready to strike anyone down as she gazed onto the arena in front of her.

For a competitive match, this place is weirdly empty of any possible threats beside the stacks of TNT strown around.

“Well it sounds like it’s Gladiator junction ….but where are all the gladiators?!” Jesse spoke just as a member of the green team was now soaring over her head and landing into the moat beside them.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Well that answers my question.” Jesse said as she whipped her head up to see the chaos start to unfold.

As if they had appeared out of thin air, dozens of monstrous gladiators were now in the junction, Firing and slashing at anyone that caught their eyes.

Jesse paused for a second, not wanting to stand out for the moment.

“How are we going to get through this?”

Ivor hissed under his breath.

“Hey. Remember, Team Jessvor!” The female said, trying to mask the insecurity she felt in the pit of her stomach.

“Right..” Ivor muttered before his tone became more anxious.

“Jesse, OBSERVE!” Ivor yelled out as a flaming arrow zoomed straight towards them, Jesse’s instincts immediately kicked in as she ducked, sending the arrow flying into a piece of TNT that laid next to them.

Jesse barely had any time to do anything as she watched the green team member start to climb out of the moat, before they all were blown backwards, Jesse and Ivor slamming into the ground.

The green team member was nowhere to be found.

But he didn’t matter to Jesse.

No one else but Ivor and herself mattered.

The only thing Jesse she was focused on was winning this game

Jesse looked up to see that the situation was more dire than what she had thought it had been though, as horrified screams filled the arena walls and people were being thrown around like toys.

The mere sight of it terrified Jesse.

Death was so natural to these people, so glossed over. Everyone wasn’t concerned for anybody else except themselves. But generosity wasn’t what won these games, selfishness and greed was what they all felt. But mostly, these players played so they could get home, so they wouldn’t have to deal with these horrible treatments. The gladiators were killing just for sport, but did they really take to heart what they were doing?

Did any of them ever lose a minute of sleep at night thinking of the lives and minds they had ruined?

Did these old builders ever put themselves in anyone else’s shoes?

Of course not.

They were sick and twisted individuals.

But jesse was sure that karma would get them one day.

Maybe even at her own hands..

But for now, Jesse needed to act.

“From bad to worse.” Jesse declared as the duo gazed into the deadly games playing before them.

Jesse crawled onto her feet and helped Ivor up as well.

“Come on, let’s go.” Jesse said as she and Ivor darted past the gladiators, trying very hard to not be noticed.

Just when they had thought they might be able to just book it, Jesse felt a heavy weight knock her down onoto the floor. Jesse looked up and instantly recognized the gladiator as the one that she had blown off of his tower during spleef.

Slab…..

“Hey you!” The man yelled as a second gladiator joined him.

“I’ve been dreaming of this day since Spleef.”

Slab chuckled darkly.

Jesse immediately readied herself as she felt another force shove her onto the floor and she whirled around just in time to see Em howl with laughter before she ran off.

Jesse still didn’t regret not joining forces with her.

“Goodbye squishy.”

The words snapped the brunette back to reality.

Slab sneered, lunging over at Jesse.

She quickly dodged him and the pink haired gladiator tried to slash at her but was interrupted as Slab yelled out.

“SHE’S MINE!”

Ivor swished behind Jesse trying to think of a plan when Slab swung his sword over to Jesse as she ducked, the sword skimming over her face as she barely missed being cut in half.

Ivor instantly felt a wave of Deja Vu as he watched.

The alchemist rustled through his inventory before pulling out a bottle.

In his hand was the invisibility elixir he hadn’t used yet ….His last potion.

The man was thankful no one has paid much attention to him as Jesse slashed Clutch out of the way before Slab readied his sword and chucked it towards Jesse, sending her slamming onto the arena floor as The man took his sword and stabbed it at Jesse, still pinned on the floor but she rolled out of the way right when the sword smashed into the ground, it’s force so brutal that pieces of the floor cracked.

That could have been her skull.

Slab turned towards Jesse once again, the girl still on the floor,

The swordsman readied his blade for the final blow right when Ivor quickly pushed Jesse out of the way, catching Slab off guard as he pulled out a potion,

“POTION OF INVISIBILITY-” Ivor yelled out before Slab swung his sword at Ivor’s arm, knocking the potion and the alchemist onto the floor.

The shattering of glass filled the air as the raven-haired man felt a sudden burst of anxiety tear through him.

Ivor yelled out in surprise, while out of nowhere, clutch appeared, her sharp axe glistening as she loomed over the potions master.

“IVO-” Jesse screamed, not even completing his name as Clutch drove her axe into Ivor’s chest, the alchemist letting out a low scream before his head dropped, slick black hair spilling onto the floor.

NO!

But no words escaped her throat and Jesse could only stare in horror as Ivor weakly turned his dark eyes towards her and he mouthed a simple,

‘Run.’

The world was spinning around Jesse, as a buzzing sound deafened her ears.

But she ran, and she didn’t look back. Even when she heard more sounds of flesh being pierced and the gurgling of blood in Ivor’s throat.

Jesse tried as hard as she could not to think about it.

What had just happened?

Was ivor still alive? She thought.

‘Well if he was, those gladiators would make sure he wouldn’t be anymore.’ The voice in the back of her head said darkly.

Were the gladiators behind her?

Run.

Just RUN.

The instruction repeated in her mind continuously.

And Jesse did as she was told

#mcsm #well this was dark #I was originally going to just edit the one i wrote earlier but I decided to rewrite it #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfic #mcsm spoilers #mcsm ivor #mcsm episode 8 #I am by no means a good fanfic author #*tips hat*#See ya

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alamante · 6 years

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The near side of the Euphrates River near Manbij, Syria, is controlled by American-backed Kurdish-led forces. On the other side are Turkish-backed Arab rebels.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

ZOUR MAGHAR, Syria — On the eastern bank of the Euphrates River, Kurdish militiamen aligned with American troops burrow into sandbagged positions and eye their foes across the water.

On the other side, Arab rebels backed by Turkey shoot at anyone who nears the river.

For millenniums, the Euphrates has given farmers in the village of Zour Maghar water to irrigate fields of wheat, eggplant and sunflowers. Generations of families have sprawled on its banks for picnics, the older children teaching the younger to swim.

But after seven years of war, the river that has fed life in Syria’s parched east has become a hostile front, separating warring sides as it travels north to south. Deprived of its water, families have fled Zour Maghar, abandoning their mud-brick homes and leaving their fields idle.

“The river was everything for us,” said Muhammad Bozan, 35, a farmer who can no longer work his waterfront land. “We used to live from the river and now we can’t.”

Image

Members of a family picnic in their garden in Zour Mghar, a village on the Kurdish side of the Euphrates near the Turkish border. Behind them is a wall built this year by Turkish forces, and beyond that Turkey.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

A pump in the Euphrates provides water for the region near Zour Mghar. South of that, the river becomes a battle zone, its water inaccessible.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

Syria’s war has taken hundreds of thousands of lives, displaced millions and left entire cities in smoking ruins. It has also ensnared the Euphrates, an arc of the Fertile Crescent that is considered a cradle of civilization.

On a recent trip along the river, we found a wasteland dotted with depopulated towns, gutted factories and civilians struggling to get by.

We mostly stayed on the east bank, an area out of Damascus’s hands that is effectively stateless and boxed in by hostile powers. The only way in was to cross the Tigris River from Iraq in a shaky, seatless motorboat.

As the government of President Bashar al-Assad has focused its military power on defeating rebels in the north and south, the river has emerged as the collision point for the great powers and their local allies struggling for influence in the east.

On the eastern bank are mostly American-backed Kurdish-led militias. On the west, along the northern part of the river, are Turkish-backed rebels. Farther south are Syrian forces supported by Russia and Iran. The Islamic State still holds a pocket along the river near the border with Iraq.

For now, the division is holding because none of the other powers wants to confront the United States, which has about 2,000 soldiers on the eastern side and whose fighter jets control the skies there.

Most of the world has accepted that Mr. Assad will continue to rule Syria, but the standoff and shattered landscape along the Euphrates raise questions about whether he can ever stitch the whole country back together.

The immediate question is how long the United States will stay. President Trump has said he wants to pull out the troops, who lead an international coalition against the Islamic State. If he does, the United States’ local allies fear the worst.

“The mere presence of the coalition in the region gives a message to the regime and to the Turks not to interfere: ‘This is where you stop,’ ” said Muhammad Kheir Sheikho, a member of the civil council in Manbij. “The withdrawal of the coalition forces, and at their head the American forces, would cause complete chaos in the area.”

A Place Few Americans Have Heard Of

An American military convoy patrols the front near Manbij several times a day, a show of force to protect the city from Turkey, an American ally.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

Three hulking, armored American military vehicles leave their base in the olive groves east of Manbij and rumble off to patrol the front lines. American soldiers staff gun turrets atop each vehicle, helicopters or drones fly overhead, and the convoy flies large American flags to make it clear who is driving.

The Americans came to Syria in 2014 to fight the Islamic State, but the jihadist group’s nearest outpost is 200 miles away. The convoy heads out several times a day to protect Manbij, a town with no resources and which few Americans have heard of, from Turkey, a NATO ally.

The American presence in Manbij is a clear indication that the United States came to Syria with one goal but picked up others along the way, complicating a potential withdrawal.

As the United States worked with Kurdish forces to take territory back from the Islamic State, its footprint in eastern Syria expanded. The area, about one-quarter of Syria and mostly desert, is now dotted with American military bases — housed in fields, in an out-of-use cement factory and in oil and gas facilities that the Syrian government would like to take back.

Kurdish troops, in a sandbagged post outside of Manbij, fear a disaster if the Americans leave.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

The American security umbrella has allowed Manbij to become a relatively stable island in the war-torn country.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

The American security umbrella has allowed Manbij to become a relatively stable island in a war-torn country. It is a local economic hub, with a bustling market and about 200,000 new residents displaced from elsewhere.

But Turkey sees Syria’s Kurdish militia as a terrorist threat on its border and has threatened to attack it. The United States worries that a Turkish attack on Manbij would siphon off the Kurdish fighters from the battle against the Islamic State in the south. Thus the American patrols to keep the Turks at bay.

But as the battle against the Islamic State winds down, the Americans will have less reason to stay.

On the flat roof of a cinder-block farmhouse converted into a military base west of town, Kurdish militiamen pointed across a shallow valley at Turkish military positions and acknowledged that the Turks could storm the area quickly if they wanted. But they did not because of the American military base nearby: a few trailers surrounded by armored vehicles, the Stars and Stripes flying overhead.

“If it weren’t for the Americans, there would be a disaster here,” said Ibrahim Sheikh Muhammad, a Kurdish militiaman.

Burned, Bombed and Still Turning

The control room of the Tabqa Dam, built by the Soviets, its turbines blown up by the Islamic State, its buildings shattered by American-led airstrikes. It is now back online.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

Most of the territory held by the United States and its Kurdish allies was once ruled by the Islamic State, and the scars of the military campaign to defeat it run deep.

South of Manbij stands the Tabqa Dam, which the Soviets built in 1973, creating Syria’s largest body of water, Lake Assad, and generating power for much of the country.

The jihadists of the Islamic State ran the dam for years but blew up its turbines when they retreated.

It is now back at work, sort of. Its 350 employees work in buildings shattered by coalition airstrikes that blew holes in walls and shook tiles off the floors. Inside the hydroelectric station, rows of charred circuit boxes set alight by the jihadists sit below ceilings stained black from smoke.

But three of the dam’s turbines were whirring as water rushed through below, and a man with a blowtorch worked to repair a fourth. From eight damaged turbines, engineers had salvaged enough parts to rebuild three of them.

The Tabqa Dam is a rare example of cooperation across battle lines, run by the Kurds with Syrian government help.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

The Tabqa Dam created Lake Assad, Syria’s largest body of water, where a Kurdish family displaced by the fighting lunches at a cafe.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

The dam is a rare example of cooperation across opposing sides. A power line that connects it to a smaller dam passes through a government-controlled area, sending electricity to the station that provides drinking water to the city of Aleppo, said Mohammed Sheikho, the head of the mechanical department. And the Syrian government still pays salaries to some workers.

But the dam is just limping along.

New heavy electric cables cannot be installed because the German company that made them will not send its engineers into a war zone. And the country best able to fix the rest of the dam, Russia, is allied with the Syrian government.

Even worse, there isn’t enough water.

Since the Kurds took over the area, Turkey has reduced the amount of water it allows into Syria by more than half, limiting the generation of electricity, said Muhammad Tarboush, the dam’s supervisor.

The situation had never been so dire, he said, even when the Islamic State was in charge.

“They are boycotting us with water,” he said.

Shattered City, Uncertain Future

With Raqqa’s 32 bridges destroyed by the war, residents depend on crude barges to cross the river.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

On the rocky banks of the Euphrates in the former capital of the Islamic State’s self-declared caliphate, boatmen yell to coax passengers onto rickety metal barges. Once they are filled with passengers, cars, motorcycles and trucks bearing everything from diapers to flatbread, the motors roar and belch black smoke as the men pilot their charges across the pale green water.

Raqqa was once a commercial center for Syria’s breadbasket. Now, it is an orphaned city in ruins.

The military campaign that drove out the jihadists in October left two-thirds of the city’s buildings damaged or destroyed, local officials said. Entire city blocks were erased and apartment buildings brought to the ground. Residents have returned to find walls and ceilings missing from their homes. Some even struggle to find their homes.

But the world powers who fought here, led by the United States, are staying out of reconstruction, so Raqqa’s residents are largely on their own.

All 32 bridges in the area were destroyed. The two major bridges spanning the Euphrates are impassible, cutting the city in half. One has a hole large enough for a tractor-trailer to fall through. Under the other, boys climb downed electrical cables to plunge in to the water below.

That has left only the barges to get people across.

A bombed-out bridge in Raqqa, no longer suitable for crossing the river, has been repurposed as a diving platform.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

The military campaign that drove the Islamic State out of Raqqa left two-thirds of the city’s buildings damaged or destroyed.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

Muhammad Jassem, a heavy-machine operator, lives on one side of the river and his elderly parents on the other. The once-simple trip to visit them now takes longer, costs more and gets his shoes and trousers wet.

“As you can see, life is a bit miserable here,” he said after wading ashore.

Everyone relied on the boats: a woman taking her grandson to the doctor for diarrhea; a family of four crowded onto a single motorcycle; a shopkeeper hauling chips and soft drinks.

Since the battle ended, the United States has put $13.7 million into Raqqa for water, electricity, rubble removal and other projects, in addition to $54 million to clear mines left by the Islamic State, according to the State Department.

But it is not rebuilding the city, which Ahmed Ibrahim, the city’s co-mayor, estimated would cost $5 billion.

He had no idea where that money would come from and worried that a lack of support would leave a vacuum that the Syrian government or an extremist group like the Islamic State could exploit.

“As long as they give concrete aid, the people will belong to them,” he said.

Facing Off Across the Water

In Deir al-Zour Province, people take rowboats from the Kurdish controlled-side of the Euphrates to the other bank, controlled by the Syrian government.CreditIvor Prickett for The New York Times

Farther south, the road along the Euphrates is strewn with the remnants of an economy blown back decades by the war: a gutted sugar factory, an idled cotton mill, a train station littered with cars blown off their tracks.

The Syrian government controls Deir al-Zour, the largest Syrian city on the Euphrates, but the bridge that connects it to its eastern suburbs across the river is destroyed.

The Kurds, their Arab allies and the United States hold the eastern side, with bases in the oil and gas fields to keep the Syrian government and its Russian and Iranian allies from retaking them.

In some places, opposing bases face each other across the water, so close that soldiers can see each other’s flags and watch each other smoking cigarettes. At one crossing point, a local militiaman monitored the eastern side, while Syrian soldiers stood on the other, about 200 yards away, while residents rowed across in battered metal canoes.

“It’s like an international border,” said a woman on the Deir al-Zour civil council after stepping off a metal canoe that carried her from the government side.

The woman, who spoke on condition of anonymity so that she could continue to visit her parents on the western side, said that most of the forces on the government’s side were Syrian but that she sometimes saw Russians and Iranian-backed militiamen from Iraq and Afghanistan buying items in shops.

Incursions in either direction are rare. In February, a column of tanks carrying about 500 pro-government forces, including Russian mercenaries, crossed the river in what appeared to be a push to seize an oil field. The United States repelled the raid, killing 200 to 300 of them.

Since then, all sides have largely accepted the river as the dividing line, an understanding likely to hold until the Americans leave.

The division was bad for Syria, the local councilwoman said, but she did not know how to end it.

“God willing, the sides will come together again,” she said.

Follow Ben Hubbard on Twitter at @NYTBen.

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The post An Ancient River in Syria Sections Off a Modern War appeared first on MySourceSpot.

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usnewsaggregator-blog · 7 years

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Catalonia, John Kelly, Donald Trump: Your Weekend Briefing

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/catalonia-john-kelly-donald-trump-your-weekend-briefing/

Catalonia, John Kelly, Donald Trump: Your Weekend Briefing

The undoing of Harvey Weinstein over less than three weeks underscored the increasing gravity of women’s accusations. Big-name actresses like the Oscar winner Lupita Nyong’o, above, have come forward with long-held accounts of his behavior. “Now that we are speaking, let us never shut up about this kind of thing,” she writes in an Op-Ed.

Continue reading the main story

Actresses like Jennifer Lawrence and Reese Witherspoon discussed other perpetrators, and hundreds of thousands of women posted #MeToo messages.

In California’s capital, more than 140 women — including legislators and lobbyists — denounced pervasive sexual misconduct in the legislature. France, after a #MeToo-style outburst, is considering fines for catcalls.

And The Times reported a previously undisclosed sixth settlement over sexual harassment allegations against Bill O’Reilly, the former Fox News host. A month after the $32 million deal in January, Fox extended his contract.

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Photo

Credit Pablo Martinez Monsivais/Associated Press

3. Meanwhile, the wheels of government are turning, if slowly. Republicans, still striving for a single marquee legislative achievement in the Trump presidency, narrowly secured Senate approval for a budget blueprint paving the way for a $1.5 trillion tax cut.

The House takes it up this week, shadowed by news from the Treasury Department: the largest annual budget deficit in four years.

Republicans aim to pass the tax bill by Christmas, but few on or off Capitol Hill have seen even a draft. Here are the mechanics of the effort.

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Photo

Credit Al Drago for The New York Times

4. Senator Mitch McConnell and President Trump made a show of togetherness, moving to fill scores of federal court vacancies with conservatives. Above, Mr. McConnell, center left, with Senator Cory Gardner of Colorado.

On health care, Mr. Trump walked back his endorsement of a bipartisan effort to save insurance subsidies. Conversely, the I.R.S. announced a move that would bolster Obamacare: It will enforce the individual mandate, declining 2017 tax returns that do not disclose the filer’s health insurance status.

Continue reading the main story

At the same time, the E.P.A. has been moving to ease restrictions on toxic chemicals, under the direction of a former industry lobbyist.

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Photo

Credit Seth Wenig/Associated Press

5. Without speaking President Trump’s name, two former presidents, George W. Bush and Barack Obama, in separate speeches implicitly condemned the president and the powers that thrust him into office. “Bullying and prejudice in our public life sets a national tone, provides permission for cruelty and bigotry and compromises the moral education of children,” Mr. Bush said.

And George Soros, the billionaire hedge fund manager and a major Democratic donor, revealed that he had transferred $18 billion to his Open Society Foundations. A lightning rod for conservative critics, he is now squarely in the middle of the social and political debates convulsing the country.

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Video

10 Minutes. 12 Gunfire Bursts. 30 Videos. Mapping the Las Vegas Massacre.

The shots began at 10:05. Twelve bursts of gunfire later, the police broke down Stephen Paddock’s door at the Mandalay Bay. The Times mapped 30 videos to draw perhaps the most complete picture to date of what happened.

By MALACHY BROWNE, DREW JORDAN, NICOLE FINEMAN and CHRIS CIRILLO on Publish Date October 21, 2017. . Watch in Times Video »

6. Disaster recovery continues: A month after Hurricane Maria, 80 percent of Puerto Rico remains without electricity. “We need trucks, we need poles, we need crews, we need lines, we need more people,” said a local utility employee.

In Northern California, some businesses are reopening as investigators dig through debris to determine what set off the region’s staggering outbreak of wildfires, whose toll includes 40 lives and almost 8,000 structures. The findings will help decide who pays for damages that are estimated to have surpassed $1 billion.

The mass shooting in Las Vegas continues to mystify the public and investigators. Using forensic analysis, we mapped 30 videos on a timeline to reconstruct the attack minute by minute, above, drawing perhaps the most complete picture to date of what happened when Stephen Paddock rained an estimated 900 rounds onto concertgoers.

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Credit Jack Taylor/Getty Images

7. Abroad, Spain’s prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, in an unexpectedly forceful move, said he would seek the removal of Catalonia’s leader, Carles Puigdemont, to halt the region’s secessionist movement. It’s the first time a Spanish leader has invoked a constitutional article intended to protect the nation’s “general interests” — thrusting it into uncharted territory while escalating the crisis.

The question of independence is particularly complex in Barcelona, which is divided between its identity as a global city and as Catalonia’s capital.

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Credit Ivor Prickett for The New York Times

8. In the Middle East, our photographer accompanied some of the U.S.-backed forces that drove the Islamic State from its de facto capital, Raqqa, Syria. That capped the group’s ouster from most of Syria and Iraq, but at the cost of unfathomable destruction. Above, fighters in Raqqa.

And counterterrorism officials say ISIS could morph into a new, lethal incarnation.

To the west, the Iraqi military vanquished Kurdish forces to reclaim Kirkuk, checking the Kurds’ move toward independence. The U.S., despite its long reliance on the Kurds in the fight against ISIS, sat by, lining up with Iran’s priorities.

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Credit Ed Jones/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

9. While world attention has been on North Korea’s nuclear program, it has nurtured a secretive hard-currency trade that nets $1 billion annually, and built a cyberwar program capable of stealing millions and unleashing global havoc.

Elsewhere on the world stage, Nikki Haley, President Trump’s U.N. ambassador, made strident denunciations of Iran and urged tougher action by the Security Council against its “outlaw behavior.”

(She also received something of a tutorial on statecraft at a panel discussion with the former secretaries of state Condoleezza Rice and Madeleine Albright.)

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Credit Jane Hahn for The New York Times

10. In Africa, some are referring to the twin truck bombings in Mogadishu that killed more than 270 people as Somalia’s 9/11.

Kenyans are on edge as the redo of their presidential election approaches on Thursday. The warring between parties led an official to say that the repeat might not be credible, either.

In West Africa, a health implication resulting from the 2013-16 Ebola outbreak is shocking doctors: Many survivors have cataracts, even children as young as 5. Above, a child preparing to undergo eye surgery in Sierra Leone.

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Credit Kevin Frayer/Getty Images

11. President Xi Jinping’s dominance in China has been on display at the Communist Party congress, which culminates this week with a reshuffle of the powerful Politburo.

Here are the five takeaways from Mr. Xi’s marathon, 205-minute opening speech, which projected military and economic power.

And the extraordinary security clampdown on Beijing for the congress further emphasized his message: Nothing can stand in my way.

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Photo

Credit Carrie Mae Weems. Styled by Malina Joseph Gilchrist

12. Finally, ready for a bit of escapism? For those who stream, here are 11 underappreciated TV shows now on Hulu. For those who’d rather scream, “The Walking Dead” returns tonight for Season 8. Here’s a look back at where the horror series left off.

“S.N.L.” is on a break. The next new episode will air Nov. 4, with Larry David and Miley Cyrus.

For a more erudite diversion, curl up with George Saunders’s experimental first novel, “Lincoln in the Bardo,” which just won the Man Booker Prize, or this year’s T Magazine Greats issue. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, above, a defining voice on race and gender for the digital age, is featured.

Have a great week.

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Your Weekend Briefing is published Sundays at 6 a.m. Eastern.

And don’t miss Your Morning Briefing, weekdays at 6 a.m. Eastern, and Your Evening Briefing, weeknights at 6 p.m. Eastern.

Want to look back? You can browse past Morning and Evening Briefings.

If photographs appear out of order, please download the updated New York Times app from iTunes or Google Play.

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sherristockman · 7 years

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Insulin, Not Cholesterol, Is the True Culprit in Heart Disease Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola The video above, "The Fat Emperor: Insulin Versus Cholesterol," features Ivor Cummins, a biochemical engineer with a background in medical device engineering and leading teams in complex problem solving. In 2013, Cummins ran into health problems. His serum ferritin was very high (which is a potent risk factor for heart disease), as were his liver enzymes. After consulting with three different doctors, he realized none of them really understood the root cause of these problems, or how to address them. As a result, he delved into the medical literature, found the problem and reversed his abnormal test results. He also dropped 35 pounds in the process. Eventually, he got more involved in health and began giving lectures such as this one, which was presented at the Low Carb USA Keto Getaway1 in Florida this past January. He also has a website, thefatemperor.com,2 where he notes: "I refer primarily to the 'diet-heart' hypothesis, which proposed that dietary saturated fat elevated blood cholesterol, and the latter drove heart disease mortality like nothing else. The evidence at the time was loose correlation, certainly not causation, and seems almost laughably naïve in retrospect. However, the tenaciousness of this flawed hypothesis has turned out to be no laughing matter, condemning millions to the misery of obesity, type 2 diabetes and an extraordinary range of inflammatory diseases. The factors that conspired to perpetuate the flawed hypotheses were many: academic and research community hubris, political forces, economic imperatives, profiteering from the food and pharmaceutical industries, and the groupthink psychology that underpins the worsening 'diabesity epidemic. After 25 years in technical/management positions with a personal specialty in complex problem solving, I have been inspired to … bring an engineering-style approach to the current situation." The Cholesterol Conundrum The vast majority — about 80 percent — of the cholesterol in your body is made by your liver. The remaining 20 percent comes from your diet. If you consume less, your body will compensate by making more, and vice versa. Contrary to popular belief, cholesterol is a crucial molecule necessary for optimal health, and not nearly the damaging culprit it's been made out to be. Since cholesterol is a fatty substance, it does not travel well through your water-based bloodstream. Hence it is encapsulated in a lipoprotein. Cummins likens the very low-density lipoprotein (VLDL) your liver makes to a boat that shuttles not only cholesterol but also triglycerides through your bloodstream to your tissues. The VLDL will dock onto receptors in your muscle tissue, where it releases triglycerides to be used for energy. Cummins accurately notes that eating fat is not the cause of high triglycerides. If your triglycerides are high, it means you're eating too many net carbohydrates, because it's actually sugar that causes triglycerides to rise, not dietary fat. Once the VLDL has dropped off the triglycerides to be burnt for energy (or stored as fat if you're not using the energy due to inactivity), the VLDL becomes a low-density lipoprotein (LDL), which in conventional thinking is a "bad" kind of cholesterol. High-density lipoprotein (HDL) is colloquially known as "good" cholesterol, and the HDL is indeed beneficial in that it acts as a master manager, helping protect the LDL against oxidation and transport triglycerides and cholesterol in and out of the VLDL. In a healthy person, the LDL will be reabsorbed by the liver after about two days, where it gets broken up and recycled. This is a beautiful system; alas, it is one that can be disrupted if you're eating too many unhealthy foods. As a general rule, a high-sugar diet will cause damaged LDLs to rise, beneficial HDLs to drop, triglycerides and, often, total cholesterol to rise. All of these are conventional indicators of atherosclerosis or inflammation in your arteries that can precipitate a heart attack. Beyond Cholesterol — What Really Causes Heart Disease? According to Dr. Thomas Dayspring, a lipidologist (expert on cholesterol), most heart attacks are due to insulin resistance. He has also stated that LDL "is a near-worthless predictor for cardiovascular issues." In simple layman's terms Cummins goes on to demonstrate the connection between the metabolic functionality of adipose fat — which actually acts as a signaling organ — and insulin sensitivity, and how and why: A metabolically healthy normal weight (MHNW) person who has good insulin sensitivity has a low risk level for cardiovascular disease (CVD) A metabolically obese yet normal weight (MONW) individual who is insulin resistant has a high risk A metabolically unhealthy obese (MUO) individual who is insulin resistant also has a high risk But a metabolically healthy obese (MHO) individual who has good insulin sensitivity is at low risk for CVD In other words, there's healthy body fat and unhealthy body fat, or put another way, fat that protects your health and fat that promotes disease. The key difference is the presence or absence of insulin sensitivity. The higher your insulin resistance, the worse markers such as fasting insulin, triglyceride-HDL ratio and HbA1c will be, suggesting you're at increased risk for diseases such as diabetes and heart disease. Recent research has shown that two specific metrics: circulating adiponectin and macrophages, can with near 100 percent accuracy predict your obese phenotype, meaning whether you're obese insulin sensitive or obese insulin resistant. How a High-Sugar Diet Causes Insulin Resistance and Type 2 Diabetes But what makes one person insulin sensitive and another insulin resistant? This is where your diet comes into play. What you eat tends to be a primary deal-maker or deal-breaker. Other factors that promote systemic insulin resistance include: ✓ Smoking ✓ Genetics ✓ Insufficient sleep ✓ Lack of exercise ✓ Stress ✓ Omega-6-rich vegetable oils ✓ Low vitamin D/lack of sun exposure ✓ Sedentary behavior ✓ Low omega-3 More often than not, excessive amounts of glucose from net carbs (total carbohydrates minus fiber) are what set the disease process into motion by causing your insulin level to spike. When repeated over time, your adipose fat tissue begins to lose its systemic signaling capabilities, precipitating insulin resistance. While glucose can be used by most cells in your body, fructose, on the other hand, must be processed by your liver before it can be used. It's actually metabolized in a way similar to alcohol — a similarity evident in non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD). Small amounts of fructose will not cause a problem, but very large amounts will over time trigger systemic insulin resistance. Eventually, the high sugar load will cause your pancreas to diminish its production of insulin, and the hyperinsulinemia that prevented lipolysis of triglycerides in your fat cells will cease. Subsequently, your liver will begin to output glucose even when you're not eating, and this is when your blood glucose finally begins to skyrocket. Prior to this, the elevated insulin actually kept the blood glucose in check. But as insulin production drops, there's nothing to prevent the blood glucose from rising anymore. As noted by Cummins, it can take many years for this process to play out before you end up with a diagnosis of type 2 diabetes. But you could have gotten a heads-up years, if not decades, earlier using a simple blood test. Measuring Metabolic Syndrome Metabolic syndrome is a constellation of factors including: Low HDL cholesterol High triglycerides Large waist circumference High blood pressure High blood sugar Having three or more of these factors over a certain level is considered evidence of metabolic dysfunction that sets the stage for chronic disease, including not only atherosclerosis and CVD but also gout, cancer, stroke, diabetes, Alzheimer's, NAFLD, arthritis and more. As noted by Cummins, metabolic syndrome is actually more aptly named insulin resistance syndrome. Moreover, since insulin secretion is the "master measurement" for insulin resistance, measuring your insulin level — particularly after a meal (post-prandial) — will give you the information you really need without having to evaluate those other five measurements. The Master Measure Dr. Joseph Kraft, former chairman of the department of clinical pathology and nuclear medicine at St. Joseph's Hospital, wrote the book "Diabetes Epidemic and You: Should Everyone Be Tested?" Based on data from some 14,000 patients, he developed a test that is a powerful predictor of diabetes. He would have the patient drink 75 grams of glucose, and then measure their insulin response over time, at half-hour intervals for up to five hours. Interestingly, he noticed five distinctive patterns suggesting that a vast majority of people were already diabetic, even though their fasting glucose was normal. In fact, 90 percent of hyperinsulinemic patients passed the fasting glucose test, and 50 percent passed the glucose tolerance test. Only 20 percent of patients had the type 1 pattern signaling healthy post-prandial insulin sensitivity and low diabetes risk. Cummins believes that using Kraft's test, about 65 percent of Americans or more probably would have hyperinsulinemia or "diabetes in situ." And, according to Kraft, "Those with cardiovascular disease not identified with diabetes … are simply undiagnosed." One of the take-home messages here is that insulin resistance and hyperinsulinemia are two sides of the same coin, as they drive and promote each other. In other words, if you have hyperinsulinemia, you are essentially insulin resistant and on your way toward developing full-blown diabetes lest you change your dietary course. How Hyperinsulinemia/Insulin Resistance Causes Heart Disease In summary, insulin resistance and/or hyperinsulinemia promote fatty liver — a combination that in turn drives high blood insulin and associated mechanistic pathways that shuttle lipids (fats) into your vascular walls, which is a hallmark of atherosclerosis. It also leads to high blood glucose, particularly post-prandial blood glucose, and this too has mechanistic pathways that promote atherosclerosis. High blood pressure is another side effect of insulin resistance that drives atherosclerosis by placing stress on your arteries. As noted by Cummins, most idiopathic hypertension (high blood pressure with no known cause) is now thought to be caused by hyperinsulinemia. Hyperinsulinemia/insulin resistance promotes inflammation, causing your visceral fat to release inflammatory cytokines and systemic signaling molecules. Over time, your visceral fat becomes increasingly resistant as well, causing the systemic signaling to falter. Taken as a whole, this cascade of events drives atherogenic dyslipidemia, characterized by the now familiar culprits: high LDL, oxidized LDL and triglycerides, and low HDL. According to Cummins, while high LDL is a very erratic marker for heart disease risk, an elevated LDL "particle count" is actually a very good marker for insulin resistance. Thus the LDL metrics should be more thought of asindicative of inflammatory issues, and not as the LDL itself being the problem! In its entirety, all of these factors are what flag the development of heart disease. Other factors that can influence your CVD risk include smoking and other environmental pollutants, especially heavy metals, so addressing and eliminating these kinds of toxic exposures would also be prudent. How to Avoid Heart Disease Evidence suggests high total cholesterol and even high LDL are insignificant when trying to determine your heart disease risk. Your best predictor is your insulin sensitivity. Considering how insulin resistance drives chronic disease in general, not just heart disease, I strongly recommend measuring your fasting insulin on a regular basis, and taking immediate action if you find yourself inching toward insulin resistance. Your fasting insulin level can be determined by a simple, inexpensive blood test. A normal fasting blood insulin level is below 5, but ideally you'll want it below 3. As for preventing or reversing hyperinsulinemia or insulin resistance, the following general guidelines will set you on the right track: Dramatically reduce your net carbs and eliminate processed fructose, as this is what set this cascade of metabolic dysfunction into motion in the first place. Replace the lost calories with higher amounts of healthy fats, not protein. My optimized nutritional plan can guide you through this process. Normalize your omega-3-to-omega-6 ratio. Most get far too little omega-3, found in fatty fish such as wild Alaskan salmon, sardines, anchovies, fish oil and krill oil, and too much omega-6, as it is plentiful in processed vegetable oils and hence processed and fried foods. Optimize your vitamin D level by getting regular, sensible sun exposure. Other nutrients of importance include magnesium and vitamins K2 and C. Get eight hours of high quality sleep each night to normalize your hormonal system. Research has shown sleep deprivation can have a significant bearing on your insulin sensitivity. Get regular exercise, as it is a powerful way to help normalize your insulin sensitivity.

#VitalityPath

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lunaraen · 7 years

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"I SWEAR, I AM NOT CUTE OR SWEET. DON’T CALL ME THAT. I AM EVIL. I AM THE SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT. FEAR ME." With Magnus or Ivor

New records for the jukeboxesthey almost never use has never seemed like such a serious need to Ivor before.

However, as he listens to perhapsthe most grating song for what can’t be anything less than the tenth time,muffled by walls or not, he finds himself seriously considering destroying thejukeboxes a fair alternative.

Ivor is not a party person. He’llalways be far more excited by the experiments in his lab than whatever loud,flashy party Jesse’s started this time, and any opportunities for embarrassmentthere almost always go unseen by everyone else.

It doesn’t help that by the endof every party, Ivor finds himself dragged into some situation he’d rather havenothing to do with. It’s not Jesse’s fault, really; it’s been Ivor’s luck fromthe very beginning. It just doesn’t help that now his knees often ache for noreason and he often wants to go to bed before midnight.

He’d blame time, except thathasn’t seemed to slow Magnus down any.

(Though it seems to have madeGabriel wiser. He isn’t anywhere to be seen, and Ivor knows who’d be takingcare of their stupidly drunken friend if he was. He’s more cunning than Ivorgives him credit for, sometimes, and maybe that’d mean more to Ivor if Magnuswasn’t clutching his stomach and constantly switching between laughing far tooloudly and retching far too much. As it is, Magnus is, so any potential respectIvor could possibly have is instead currently simmering resentment.)

Ivor resists the urge to roll hiseyes as he pats Magnus on the back, before thinking better of it and justrolling his eyes.

The well-deserved eye roll isinterrupted in favor of backing away and standing as Magnus decides to get to his feet, wiping theback of his sleeve against his mouth as the bucket tips to the side, rightingitself before any of the contents can spill onto the lush, red carpet.

The guest room is one of thesmaller ones in the temple, but it’s also one of the furthest away from theliving room and thus one of the furthest away from the party. That doesn’t stopmuffled music from seeping its way through a wall of solid quartz, or the noisecaused by the dancing and poor singing of the people still partying, but itmeans it’s the quietest they can have without leaving altogether.

Magnus doesn’t laugh as he allbut collapses on the bed, and he’s quick to wave off the raised eyebrow andoffered hand.

“No, ’m fine. I don’t needany help.” Ivor disagrees, but he knows from experiences how well arguingwith a drunk Magnus goes.

Magnus doesn’t quite stand,kneeling as he straightens up before slouching not a moment later. He doesn’tsay anything or look back at Ivor, instead staring at the wall, body still savefor the twitching of his fingers.

“You haven’t changed abit.” Ivor crosses his arms and allows himself a smirk. “It’s either infuriating or almost cute. I haven’t decidedwhich.”

He has, of course. It’sabsolutely maddening. (And the bucket of vomit beside the bed makes it evenharder to see any of this as cute. Not looking at it doesn’t keep Ivor’s nosefrom working.) But the second option gets the reaction Ivor expects it to, evenif it’s more exaggerated than he thought it’d be.

Magnus turns his head, lipstwisting into a scowl as he glares at Ivor.

“I swear, I’m not cute orsweet. Don’t call me that. I am evil. I am the shadows in the night. Fear me!” His voice is slightlydifferent as he says it, a bit lower in the way it always gets when he tries toput on a show or intimidate someone.

It’s something of a miracle thatMagnus gets through all of it without slurring anything too horribly, swayingon his knees but staying upright all the same, but Ivor has the feeling thatthe significance is lost on him. After all, Magnus still has bunny slippers on,one of them actually on his foot instead of his hand. Not that Ivor knows whosebunny slippers those could be, seeing as how no one else in the Order wearsanything like them.

(And with how often people’spersonal belongings are used as blackmail during prank wars, Ivor would know.)

Still, he doubts Magnus wouldbother bringing and concealing bunny slippers from Redstonia just for the sakeof using them once he was drunk enough.

“You’re drunk.” Ivorcrosses his arms, expression not changing. “And the only one fearing youis the bucket.”

Magnus’s posture slumps onceagain as he pouts.

“…still not cute.”

This was more than just basicpride.

“Who else called youcute?” Axel likes messing with Magnus, but something like that’s hardlythe thing to ruffle Magnus’s feathers. There’s somebody else, though, thatseems to genuinely find everyone cute in some way or another, Ivor himselfinexplicably included, and well-meaning but blunt enough to not mind tellingthem. “Jesse.”

The response Ivor’s small smirkgets is another flat look and a tone that could be a snarl if Magnus’s wordsweren’t slurring on him.

“Guy’s got a right to some pride.” Magnus puffs out hischest slightly, fingers curled into a fist as he gestures to himself with athumb. “I’m the king of Boom Town.”

“I thought Axel had takenover while you’ve been busy in Redstonia.” Magnus’s teeth show through hissneer as he lowers his hands back to the bed, fingers curling into the blanketsas he leans towards Ivor, nearly losing his balance in the process.

“Temporarily.”

“When were you planning onreturning?”

“…sometime. After Oliviagets everything settled and all. I dunno, man.” Magnus groans, slumpingover on the bed, the mattress creaking. “Maybe I’m not the king ofanything right now, but that doesn’t mean they’ve gotta treat me like I’mcuddly or something. Makes me feel old.”

Ivor snorts.

“We are.”

“Doesn’t suddenly make meweak or anything.” Magnus rolls his eyes, elbow sinking into the bed as herests his chin on his hand. “Don’t tell me they don’t make you feel likethey yanked all your teeth out.”

Ivor’s hands go still for amoment and Ivor’s giving a sneer of his own before he knows it.

Countless years spent growingbitter, spending less and less time around people and in villages unlessnecessary, had left him with a nice sharp set.

One that did him no good againsthis own creation.

Even with the peace that camewith the world finding out the truth about the Enderdragon, it took a while forIvor to feel comfortable around Jesse and the others, especially with thelatter seeming just as hesitant and suspicious as he was. Still, few thingswere as effective at making bonds as an adventure was.

And he knows what could be seenas a poorly veiled threat towards them makes his hackles rise.

“…I assure you, my ‘teeth’are right as I left them.” The words are curt, clipped and terse comparedto his earlier ones, but Magnus only grins.

“There, see? You get what Imean.” He shrugs as he looks back down at the bed, free hand tossing aside the bunny slipper before pulling at the top blanket. “'s– it’s like being a wolf that everybody sees as apuppy.”

Ivor pauses, fingers curling intofists before he exhales through his nose, hands relaxing. Magnus has been farmore annoying when drunk before, and Ivor’s been through enough of it himselfthat he knows what introspection looks like.

“…Magnus, it’s not as if any of them underestimate you. You were one of their idols since the beginning.”One of the many bonuses to lying to an entire world for years on end, Ivordoesn’t add.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’tmind that they’re cool with me– I’m glad they haven’t just tossed me to themobs after everythin.” Magnus looks back up at Ivor before shifting hisarms, letting his head rest on the bed itself. “I just want to know howthe hell they did it. You tried to kill ‘em when you first knew them, and nowit’s like you’re one of their best friends.”

“Hm.” Ivor shifts thechair that sits at the laughably small desk beside the bed, turning it to facethe bed as he picks up the faded paperback that sits on top of the desk itself.Several of the pages are dog-eared, and, judging by the odd cover, it’s one ofPetra’s less tasteful reading choices. “You’re a philosophicaldrunk.”

Magnus raises his head againbriefly, grin wide and toothy.

“Drove Ellie nuts.”

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #gabriel the warrior

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