#affaire de justice

[thebusylilbee]

what's even fucking crazier about the Mazan serial rapes case is that everybody is already so shocked by the basic facts of it (Dominique Pélicot drugs his wife for 10 years and gets her raped while unconscious by 73 men or more) that the medias literally often forget to mention that DNA testing suggest that the husband is actually a whole ass killer who killed and raped at least one woman in the 90's before getting married to Gisèle Pélicot

[genelvavirtualstudio-blog]

Affaire Bopda : La Famille Parle et Dénonce

Dans le sillage des récentes révélations choquantes sur les agissements présumés de Hervé Bopda, la famille Bopda Emmanuel a émis un communiqué afin de faire part de son point de vue face aux graves accusations qui secouent actuellement la sphère publique camerounaise. Dans un contexte où les réseaux sociaux ont servi de tribune aux témoignages accablants, ce communiqué vise à apporter une…

[stressfulsloth]

I've seen a couple of takes about Disco Elysium being copaganda going around recently, and beyond the fact that DE is relentlessly critical of the police force in general and makes explicit reference to the failures of the system that allow the officers in game to abuse their power, I also think it's important to note that there very literally is an in-world version of copaganda that the writers of the game use to parody that romanticised view of the brutality of policing. The RCM at their inception were structurally inspired by in-world copaganda- their culture, their "fashions, even weapon preferences, borrow heavily from classic Vespertine cop shows." Every investigation is it's own little drama, every officer imagining themselves to be the bad-ass hero of their own crime serial. Detectives name their cases like they're naming episodes of a TV series in a "robust but literary system"; a title that "draws inspiration from snoop fiction and Vespertine cop show staples". They give themselves nicknames to sound like cool, suave fictional officers- Ace, Dick Mullen, etc.- from the cool, suave world of copaganda.

The legend of the RCM's inception, the "point of contention" over its uncertain origins, is even an extention of that; the whole organisation is shrouded in this self-fictionalising mythos that allows for distance that in turn obfuscates much of its violence to the officers that participate in it. They get to convince themselves that they're not abusing their power; they're the hero of the story! The dichotomy of "good guy" taking out the "baddies," a manifestation of the libertarian fantasy of the "good guy with a gun" who does what it takes, just like in Annette's detective novels, and at the same time who rails against oversight bodies like Internal Affairs/'the rat squad' because due process slows down the immediate satisfaction of Swift Justice, despite Internal Affairs existing to protect the citizens from overreach on behalf of the police. "Wanton brutality" from police in their real world is a cold bitter reality but Dick Mullen was "made to crack skulls," "bend the rules and solve cases no one else can," and which version of that story is more comforting to the overworked, underfunded officers of the RCM?

The level of fantasy and detachment required for the cops to still see themselves as the good guys after everything that they do in the line of duty mimics The Pigs and her breakdown too; she parallels Harry so clearly. Both "did right by the kids" in the past, hoping for a better future- Marianne (The Pigs) by looking out for Titus and the Hardy boys when they were young, Harry in his role as a gym teacher. Both abandoned and left behind by the system that the RCM uphold- a brutal capitalist landscape with no safety nets. Both turning the source of their trauma into a costume, a performance, a shield, shaped by "radio waves and cop shows." The Pigs uses RCM items scavenged from the Esperance where they'd been thrown away, while Harry uses the Dick Mullen hat that Annette gives him but both are essentially in costume.

Harry identifies himself with the fictional detective as a kind of wish fulfilment; Dick Mullen is "wicked smart." He doesn't fuck up his cases and when he's sad it's not pathetic; it's effortlessly cool brooding and everyone sympathises. Everyone loves him. His violence- "skull crack[ing]"- is justified because he's a "good guy" enacting that violence against the victims of police brutality sorry "bad guys". He doesn't ever face repercussions; "Dick Mullen won't be sent to the clink for the sake of some legal niceties!" So if Harry is Dick Mullen then his failures, his breakdown, they're all just a part of being a "bad-ass, on-the-edge disco cop." He's not wrong, he's a hero! This idealised fictionalised idea of the police force, this "new, sadly better, reality" that both Harry and The Pigs cling to is "escapist stuff," "receed[ing] into a ludicrous fantasy world," so far removed from the brutal material reality that they're in.

My point is, idk. Disco Elysium is so far from being copaganda. It is a multi-million word long dissection of it, of the purpose of policing, of state sanctioned violence and its interaction with capital and the fallout experienced within the wider community as well as the trauma cycle created for individual officers. A dissection of how copaganda interacts with RCM culture and perception, and by extension how we interact with irl perceptions of police through that lens.

[withnofreetime]

HETALIA ☆ WORLD STARS (521)

Is there a problem/error? Please say so! And thank you for your support!

Spanish version ↓ and T/N.

T/N:

P.1.

"Cazzo", "f*ck!"

"Bastardo", "Bastard"

About Cost. (GDP; millions, aprox.)

Austria -> € 447 - $ 526 182

Netherlands -> € 941* - $ 1,092,748

Hungary -> € 188,443* - $ 203 829

Romania -> € 278,005* - $ 300,691

Bulgaria --> € 83,529 - $ 90,346

*not official, conversion ($ -> €)

P.2.

"Schengen Agreement" Overview, a kind of timeline.

"Conflict Bulgaria & Romania and Austria". Due to the increase in illegal inmigration and corruption in both countries, Austria had refused Bulgaria's entry many times.

"Schengen Area" because it was signed in Schengen, Luxembourg.

Another timeline! (2023)

Extract from Wikipedia: "On 8 December 2022 the Justice and Home Affairs Council voted to admit Croatia to the Schengen Area, but rejected Bulgaria and Romania. Austria and the Netherlands voted against the inclusion of Bulgaria and Romania, with Austria claiming that there had been a rapid increase in the number of migrants using the West Balkan route to enter the EU illegally. 20 On 30 December 2023 the EU agreed to include Bulgaria and Romania in the Schengen Area, with Austria no longer vetoing the enlargement of the area. Air and sea ports no longer conduct border checks from 31 March 2024, while the end of land border checks require further discussions."

"About Hungary & Bulgaria". If the information is correct, there was a "threat" from the Hungarian government to vote against Bulgaria's entry into the agreement if they didn't solve the Russian gas problem, yeah, taxes.

But they did it! Press realese, European Comission.

"Romanian Industry". Talks more about Poland and Romania's future struggles in the industry.

"Bulgaria, and 'rich kid' allegations" Probably talking about the Golden Age of Bulgaria, first Empire in the mid 19-century. Or the Second Golden Age. The Bizantine Empire and the Italian Kingdom had economic relationships with the first Bulgarian Empire.

P.3.

"Netherlands & Bulgaria". The Netherlands government was against Bulgaria and Romania's entry. And then not.

P.4.

"yправител" in Bulgarian. It might mean "general", "manager" or "administrator".

SPANISH VERSION

Italia habla de Bulgaria y Romania como si tuviera 80 años. Me saqué un 85% en mi examen de C2 de Español... no es una parodia por COMPLETO, pero tampoco lo tomen en serio.

¿Hay un problema y/o error? Por favor de comunicar, ¡y gracias por su apoyo!

[mezmer]

The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: Progressive metal

[apricitystudies]

what i read in dec. 2023:

(previous editions) bold = favourite

class, race, gender, & sexuality

a good prospect

damages (usa)

the moral panic against uk drill is deeply misguided

i survived a lot of edwards and now i'm team bella

death on a dairy farm (usa)

the fence (canada)

politics & current affairs

'weapons of mass migration': how states exploit the failure of migration policies

president's war against 'fake news' raises alarms in south korea

in the shadow of the holocaust

justice from below

where are they? in remembrance of victims of indonesia's enforced disappearance

culture & essays

raising the dead

one swedish zoo, seven escaped chimpanzees

the cult next door

what kind of future does de-extinction promise?

the battle over dyslexia

palestine

palestinian men are not 'terrorists in the making'

israel: starvation used as weapon of war in gaza (human rights watch)

atrocities present, past, and future

israel working to expel civilian population of gaza (un ohchr)

inhumane treatment and enforced disappearance of palestinian detainees from gaza (amnesty international)

[arcanecalligrapher]

Outrageous and Terrifying

Have you ever had one of those days where the universe just suddenly takes a massive dump on someone you care deeply for who has been struggling through an awful situation?

That was yesterday for us.

Romana is a twenty-one year old computer science student, coming up on two years into her degree. She escaped her abusive, toxic, controlling parents in November 2021 and has been living peacefully, renting on her own for a year now.

Yesterday afternoon, her parents showed up on her doorstep with social workers and a court order for guardianship. They ordered her into their car, and acted like the fact that they hadn't called the cops yet was them being nice. They guilt-tripped her about how much they missed her for the entire ride back to their house, and then the next morning had to be talked down from taking her phone and computer away twice.

That's what guardianship means, y'all, that she's not permitted to make property decisions. She is not permitted to live where she chooses. She is not permitted to talk to who she wishes. If she attempts to make her own decisions, she risks being held in contempt of court.

They did not serve her the required notice, nor did they serve her lawyer notice. Romana and her lawyer were not contacted by mail; were not contacted by email; and were not contacted over the phone, despite all these methods of contact having been given to her parents and their lawyers.

There was no attendable court session, where evidence could presented or witnesses could take the stand. She has not been permitted her right to look a judge in the eye and say "See for yourself. Ask me what you wish. Do I seem like I'm my own person to you?"

This happened because the justice who signed the judgment did so without reading any of it. Justice Smith did not read the application, the responses from Romana's lawyer, the capacity assessment report, or even the text of the draft judgment that was signed. How in the inkstained void does that happen?

Romana is eloquent, intelligent, and a great friend. She's been stripped of nearly every right at a moment's notice due to the selfishness of her parents. Honestly, I don't really feel comfortable referring to them as her parents, as though she were some upstart teenager depending on them for everything.

In the province of Ontario, there are two adults who want to keep a de facto prisoner and discreetly got the state to rubber stamp it. That prisoner is my friend, someone I care about deeply.

Try to imagine how that feels. Please, put yourself in Romana's shoes, trapped in that absurdist nightmare. Please try to imagine a fraction of the frustration dawning on horror, the confusion dawning on fury.

Ontario has given Romana no help to pay legal fees. There's no program that will help cover it, no charity that will pitch in. I should know. I looked. I know that sounds like an insane state of affairs, but we spent weeks looking and found nothing. She's got only the resources of a college student, barely scraping by with the help of friends, her sister, and GoFundMe.

Romana is just a person. And like any person, she just wants to live a life of basic freedom and dignity.

[decayedgloria]

Madame Neuvillette Masterlist

The young and vivacious Madame Neuvillette, who shied away from Fontainian society for far too long, enters the world of scandalous affairs and open secrets as she tries to mediate her brother's failing marriage. Only, she finds herself in the midst of perhaps the biggest scandal high society has ever had the pleasure of seeing- with none other than the Duke of Meropide himself.

Pairing: Wriothesley x fem!reader, Neuvillette x fem!reader

Tags: mature and suggestive themes, anna karenina au, infidelity, toxic relationships, established relationships, age difference, tags will be added as the fic is updated

Author's note: as mentioned, it is an anna karenina inspired story. Meaning there will be time period-accurate violence and actions (smoking, some misogyny, etc.) Set in Teyvat, just without the visions and its the 1800s. Mostly follows Anna's storyline, not really Konstantin's. I can't promise frequent updates so bear with me. Everything is listed is subject to change, and things will be added as the story progresses: both tags and characters.

Cast of Characters

Reader, the protagonist of the story married to Neuvillette. Younger than him and quite charismatic, yet impulsive.

Neuvillette, the chief justice of Fontaine and a busy, yet loving family man. Is well-respected for his impartiality.

Wriothesley, the dashing Duke of Meropide who has just returned from his station in Chenyu Vale. Marchioness Clorinde's cousin and is courting Navia.

Ajax, a baron and the reader's brother whose marriage is falling apart because of his infidelity. Married to Navia's sister.

Navia, a young aristocrat who is promised to Wriothesley. Reader's sister-in-law, both are quite close to each other.

Clorinde, Marchioness de Champion. Cousins with Wriothesley, and knows him better than anyone else.

Sigewinne, reader and Neuvillette's teenage daughter. Is spoiled rotten by both parents, though mostly by her mother.

Chapters

❥Part One: Decadent Collision

Taglist: feel free to ask! @wriosmilk

[mapsontheweb]

Italy from 1796 to 1805

Cartes 1-4 & 6 : « Atlas de la révolution française », Beaurepaire & Marzagalli, Autrement, 2016

Carte 5 : « Atlas de l’empire napoléonien », Chappey & Gainot, Autrement, 2e éd., 2015

by cartesdhistoire

The incursion of Bonaparte's army into Italy in the spring of 1796 was primarily a diversion to relieve pressure on the Rhine front. However, its success quickly opened up new possibilities: French support and the activism of local patriots led to the establishment of sister republics. Over three years (1796-1799), known as the Triennio, the political landscape and institutions of the peninsula underwent significant changes. This period, marked by reforms and democratic achievements, as well as the involvement of individuals previously excluded from public affairs, is crucial for understanding how the Triennio influenced the attitudes of both elites and the general populace during and after the Napoleonic era.

However, the sister republics collapsed in the spring of 1799 in the face of the successes of the Austro-Russian armies of the Second Coalition and the armed uprisings of peasants incited by the clergy and angered by French abuses. Naples surrendered in June 1799, and the repression there was severe.

The political landscape of the peninsula was once again reshaped by France following the Second Italian Campaign, which began in 1800. The Cisalpine Republic, reinstated after the Battle of Marengo and expanded during the Peace of Lunéville, gave way to the Italian Republic in 1802, then became a kingdom in 1805. The kingdom's territory expanded to include Veneto and Istria (1805), the Marche region (1808), and South Tyrol (1810). Thanks to the Vice-President of the Italian Republic, Francesco Melzi d'Eril, the political efforts during these years resulted in the establishment of a modern state and significant reforms in administration, justice, and the military.

The Napoleonic experience helped to politically educate the Italian elites, providing them with a shared institutional and legal framework, as well as standardized administrative practices, which made the idea of unity feasible.

[rosemary-rothlorein]

Victor Hugo: not relevant but there is an urgent need for a close-up shot of Enjolras.

Text was copied and pasted from wikisource.

3.4.1, introduction paragraph

Woe to the love-affair which should have risked itself beside him! If any grisette of the Place Cambrai or the Rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, seeing that face of a youth escaped from college, that page's mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had conceived an appetite for that complete aurora, and had tried her beauty on Enjolras…

Poor Enj, walks on the street and gets harassed by random passers-by.

Also Victor Hugo, next paragraph: now let’s talk about Combeferre, “He was less lofty, but broader. That’s all. Thank you.”

Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: "What fine marble!"

Grantaire, are you sure you are there for Enjolras’s faith and (chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid) nature NOT FOR HIS FACE???

3.4.5, Combeferre’s être-libre big show

Enjolras, whose blue eye was not fixed on anyone, and who seemed to be gazing at space, replied, without glancing at Marius:

Thanks, Victor, for reminding us of something you said four chapters ago.

4.12.3, basically Grantaire’s love confession

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the Puritan in his composition.

Maybe the reader also knows Enjolras has a beautiful and austere face.

4.12.7, Javert’s identity is discovered.

"Spy," said the handsome Enjolras, "we are judges and not assassins."

Javert: …Why?

4.12.8, Le Cabuc’s execution

Enjolras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and his woman's face, had about him at that moment something of the antique Themis…

Victor Hugo: I know one minute ago you were not doing anything intense, merely talking to Javert, but now I need you to cosplay Themis, so please get rid of your cravat and dishevel your (beautiful, golden, shining) hair.

Enjolras: …okay.

His dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed the matter, befit Justice.

Victor Hugo: Killing in the name of justice can easily get us into endless and heated ethical debates, and the issue is further complicated by the very situation, given it is a revolution, where a judicial system has not really been established. Let’s not get into deep water but make our life easier: this is divine justice.

Le Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have been seized by a superhuman hand.

Le Cabuc: I am armed, and I am evil and impetuous enough to murder someone without a second thought. Am I not supposed to fight this schoolboy?

Victor Hugo: No. You are supposed to be shocked by his beauty. And chastity.

Le Cabuc: Is that something I can tell by LOOKING AT HIM?

Enjolras ceased. His virgin lips closed; and he remained for some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in marble immobility.

Marble x2.

Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the barricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock.

5.1.3

Enjolras reappeared. He returned from his sombre eagle flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, he said:

…He literally says hey guys, we are going to die now.

Victor Hugo: Yeah I know. But light technician, light on Enjolras please!

5.1.5 barricade speech.

All at once he threw back his head, his blond locks fell back like those of an angel on the sombre quadriga made of stars, they were like the mane of a startled lion in the flaming of a halo, and Enjolras cried…

How can Victor Hugo forget to highlight his revolutionary gold boy’s beauty?

Enjolras paused rather than became silent; his lips continued to move silently, as though he were talking to himself, which caused them all to gaze attentively at him, in the endeavor to hear more. There was no applause; but they whispered together for a long time. Speech being a breath, the rustling of intelligences resembles the rustling of leaves.

No virgin lip this time. Good thing that Victor is learning self-restraint (but not for long, apparently).

5.1.8 the death of sergeant of artillery

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek.

Marble x3.

Victor you are using Grantaire’s vocabulary.

5.1.23 the martyrdom of Enjolras

The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him respectfully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he could no more be fatigued than wounded.

(The most obvious evidence that this guy is divine. Human biology DOES NOT work in this way.)

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: "There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo."

Were you at the barricade for the revolution or for something (someone) else???

A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, lowered his gun, saying: "It seems to me that I am about to shoot a flower."

Le Cabuc symptom: brain stops functioning properly at the sight of Enjolras’s beauty.

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up.

Now we have music fading into a suffocating silence, light focuses on Enjolras, twelve guns arranged in a way according to the rules of one-point perspective. Your turn Grantaire!

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Ink of Blackest Night

Alright D.M. ppl listen trust me on this trust me i swear

Rated Mature | Warnings: kidnapping, soft D.M.

The Lord Professor Désire Mélodis has many enemies, those who see only the cremé de la cremé of society and wish ill will upon him. They see you as a means of hurting him, a way to cripple the secretly devious many who are playing a game of three-tier chest with the detective Mr. Inference.

Yet, in the middle of that match, an interloper had dared to put you in harm's way and Désire had no choice but to call upon Noir to protect you. The mystery man had swooped in and saved you, you could only stare in awe as time for that second slowed down.

The battlefield they foolishly picked is the celebration event held by the Lord Professor, a celebration of the success of your public performance of a play you are the lead of and the success of the opening night. You were excited to share this moment with those you love and those who supported you, along with those who are part of the play! It was a wonderful night until the party crasher came and the night turned into a nightmare when Sir Mélodis is forced to stand helplessly as you are taken away.

You fear for them as you know they will not be given a quick death.

As you are taken and held hostage in some abandoned and frankly unstable manor belonging to a fallen house, supposedly by the hands of Sir Mélodis, you are tied and gagged by the grand staircase as they plot the next phase. Kill the Lord Professor and kill you too if you are not—

The scent strongest on him is rosemary like Mr. White, his expression stoic, yet his eyes are intense as he lands gracefully with you in his arms. You are placed down gently on the floor.

“Tuberose is outside with Mélodis.” Inform you while his owl lands on his shoulder, “You will be safe from here on out. Do not look back.”

You could only nod as you are too in shock to speak as he kneels beside you with blue eyes locked on you, his stare taking in your appearance before standing up and turning around. He leaves to go probably to kill those who tried to kill you.

Désire is not one to let the paperwork of justice handle his affairs when it comes to you.

Noir, you know that must not be his name but the codename your beloved has given him. Everyone has a codename but no name you know of.

“Curious about him?” Désire asks while you lay beside him in bed. You have not left his side in over a week and not left his manor in the same amount of time. “Such a nosy thing.”

“You promised to be open with me when I ask and I only ask questions when something is presented in front of me.” You brush his hair out of his face, “Who is he?”

“A partner.”

“You kept him hidden from me. Is he important?”

“Yes, very.”

“Does he know about me like the others?”

“... Yes. He knows how important you are to me.” There is weight to those words because you are important, far more important than he could ever voice but his actions always speak for him.

You smile, kissing the tip of his nose, “Can I meet him again?” You try to be on good terms with those your future husband associates with, especially when they are ordered to look after you.

“He wants to meet you as well,” He kisses your forehead, “But I have a request of you, my love.”

“Anything.”

“Careful before you promise anything,” He cups the side of your face, “He, like Tuberose, is very close to me, and of equal importance. Tuberose holds no romantic feelings for you but Noir does.”

You look concerned, “Uh?”

“He has watched you, as I ordered and I permitted him to let those feelings grow. I trust him to care for you if something was to befall me. Please, have an open mind around him. He will only respond to what is offered.”

“Do you want me to covet another man?”

“I want you to feel safe with him as you do with me.” He corrects you, “He will be the only man I give you permission to feel comfort in any form from.”

You are confused and worried to the point you touch your beloved’s forehead making sure he does not have a fever, “You… You are serious?”

“You know already how dangerous it is being with me is, I want you to be happy if something befalls me even if it means someone else must care for you too.”

You know like when talks like this but it is a reality you have to face as your wedding day draws closer and closer, the dangers are increasing and the Sir is dealing with affairs that are becoming too emboldening and believes they can harm you in public.

“Désire.”

Noir is not an easy man to find, he can only be found when he wants to be found. His letter details only a time and place, nothing more. The owl is sweet on you, rubbing her head on your finger before taking the gift of a treat of a breadcrumb and flying off.

That night in the long abandoned Observatory, he stands waiting for you with the owl on his shoulder, his arms crossed.

“You came.”

“Of course, it would be rude to ignore an invitation.” You say with a slight bow, “I must admit, you have the advantage here.”

“I do,” He turns around the looks over his shoulder signaling you to follow him, “Come.” You follow behind him.

You follow a secret path in the flooring, he enters first then you go inside after him, and he assists you down the ladder. The place under is a large space well lived in, warm, and smells of fresh food and you see a small table covered by cloth and set for dinner. It makes you very aware of how real this is, that Désire wants you to be courted by another man while engaged to him.

“My apologies if this is not to your standards.” Noir says while pulling out a chair for you to sit.

“Oh no, this is lovely actually. Cozy. Do you live here?”

There are bookshelves everywhere, a curtain divider, and this table. There are three other doors and the third door that is open reveals a kitchen.

“Yes, it is a safe house D.M created.” Seating himself across from you, “I primarily use it.”

“I see.” You examine the food, a simple dish, before eating it, “This is well made.”

“Crimson made it.”

“Oh.”

The dinner is mostly quiet, you try to make conversation but he seems not well versed in how to keep one going.

“I… Could you keep talking?” He says while collecting the dishes, “I enjoy the sound of your voice.”

That makes your cheeks heat up a bit, “Would you like for me to talk about my day?”

“Anything. You are enchanting.” Placing them in the sink.

You talk about anything from your day to the play to how thankful you are for him saving you. Then you ask him simple questions, nothing invasive as you know he must keep his secrets too as his line of work— Their line of work requires you to be in the dark.

Noir at some points is unsure what to do, there is only but so much D.M. can tell him to help in this. He was trained to kill, to remove obstacles for Sir Mélodis, romance was not even a thought in his mind until you came along.

He was surprised when felt those strange emotions in his heart stir within, so much so he had to go to the Lord Professor for advice.

It was annoying to laugh at before Désire saw how serious Noir was.

“Noir?”

“Forgive me, I did as much research as possible before this,” He touches your face after removing his gloves, “Tell me if anything I do is not to your liking.” His eyes open while you close yours preparing for his kiss.

You kiss him, a quick kiss, “Let me show you. We can learn as we go, okay?”

“A-alright.”

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Dear Rafal:

As some spirit swans shapeshifter angel possession thingy do you create souls and ship them off to the real world?

I have a case where I know someone very well and he just seems to be very similar to you. (cough cough)

Also if Rhian was a girl (or some genderbend AU) would you let me be her gf?

Rafal: [peers down at you from the sky through slitted eyes] I'm not a "thingy" as you claim. Nor am I possessed, and if you'd like to see a man possessed, turn no further than downwards, at my aging mirror image. He's bound to die eventually and I doubt he'll be joining me. [He grins.]

As for your query, the answer is no. Not currently. When I did involve myself in... low, earthly affairs, every mortal soul I had a part in creating was apparently deficient in some way or another. Always, it was: [said in a mocking tone] this one's imbued with an excess of "spite" or "hubris," that one is just plagued with "instability," and a third was impacted by a so-called "disregard for its own species" and a "malcontent temperament"—why should I care?

Amid those general issues, the few souls of mine that had been placed in the Woods were reported to be "cursed," what we call our failed projects, those who can't descend to the Woods and live "ordinary lives." They had to be reworked by my colleagues, who discovered that many of those restless mortals held unconscious, fully-formed vendettas against pirates, Seers, and blond men. Don't ask.

All of my creations have been scrapped thus far, including a potential distant relative I devised for my Stymphs: the razor-beaked, flesh-eating sparrow. It was marvelous, and I'm sure my living students would've found it just lovely. Unfortunately, Heaven didn't approve of my vision for a new and greater Woods, which is pointless, seeing as the Blue Forest is already populated with killer, puffball rabbits. My Woods would've been built upon cautionary tales, to whittle away at the simpletons who believe that as long as they're Good, they "deserve the world" as they're constantly told. The Evers were always entitled as they always received the benefit of the doubt automatically, a privilege my Nevers will never live to get for themselves. It's why they must take what the world deprives them of, which I can understand to an extent. [resentment creeps into his voice.] After all, I nearly got what I wanted, only for it to slip through my fingers. So, instead, my Nevers are trapped with a daft leader and just languish under a losing streak, as far as I can tell.

Besides, my title isn't "guardian angel." Heaven wanted to assign me to a post as a patron of travelers and physicians, but I declined, and took up record-keeping duties since, for the time being, I don't wish to see anyone. I'm not content with menial tasks, but there haven't been any other offerings worth my time, aside from staging a coup, whether it be a coup d'état or coup de grâce for a certain someone, well... I haven't decided yet.

However, I do hope that my brother's still around when the Second Coming rolls around. I'd be all too satisfied to see the dire look on his face as he trembles when I tap him on the shoulder. Then, I'd drag him to a punishment equal to his worldly crimes in whichever circle of Hell happens to be his final destination, all while the rest of the apocalypse roars around us... Something to look forward to, I suppose. The other angels tell me not to be so sure, or that I won't want justice by that point. But however long it takes, I'll be here. Waiting for my moment in that dying sun.

[Rafal likes to think he's moved past earthly proceedings, but in reality, he's still probably bitter, begrudging, and unforgiving (so far), and would prefer to think of himself as beyond trifles like mortal lives that aren't his. He probably just needs time to settle and accept his death. Eventually, he'll reform further though, and grow into his Goodness.]

Rafal: Who is this case of yours? [You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to.]

Do whatever you'd like with Rhian. I'm not his protector any longer, and he’s more than capable of "defending" himself. Just let me take his soul once he dies, and we'll have a deal. [He extends a hand pulsing with sorcery to you to shake.] A contractually-sealed deal.

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Inferum

Part Two

Jake x OC (f)

Warnings: potentially scary themes, talk of murder and desecration of human remains

Find All Parts Here

Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.

Pip led me down corridor after corridor. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice how alone we were. We’d passed fellow visitors on our way to both the theater and Gens Beaux, but now there had been no one for what felt like hours. It didn’t help that Pip had remained almost completely silent except for the occasional, “Watch your step.” Something felt off in the silence, almost as they knew my true intentions. But I tried my best to shake it off.

I was lost in my thoughts when they said, “Just a bit further to the druids, mon cher.”

Startled by the sudden break in the silence, my heart leapt in my throat before I replied, “Perfect.”

Glancing down at my watch, I saw it was nearly ten at night. We were early. But perhaps the trek to the true destination would kill that time. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the strap of my bag, adjusting it on my now sore shoulder, and continued following Pip. It had been perhaps ten more minutes when I glanced forward and saw a figure up ahead. It looked like it was stepping out of the wall. Pip didn’t seem to pay it any mind so I tried to do the same. But as we got closer, the more the feeling of dread took over my body. The figure was perhaps two yards ahead when I noticed it was made of stone.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing at the statue.

“Oh him. He is Le Passeur. Would you like to hear his story?”

“Sure, why not?” I reply as I stare at the life-like figure.

“Le Passeur is a victim of Louis-Étienne Héricart de Thury. It is said that he and Louis’ wife, Maire Christiene I believe was her name, were having a… Ah, affaire d’amour. A little tryst. Louis found out about it and brought the poor man here. He killed him, of course. Then he cast his body in plaster and cement and mounted him to the wall so that he would always search for his way out.” Pip says gesturing to the statue.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, all color draining from my face.

“Oui, bien sûr, je suis très sérieux! Why would I lie about something like that?” They looked offended that I would even question them. “It’s brilliant, no? His punishment. To wander the catacombs for eternity,” He says, gazing admiringly at the dead man’s cast.

“Don’t you think it’s sad though? To be damned to the catacombs over an affair?” I ask.

“No, he got what he deserved,” Pip shrugs. “Now come, the druids await.” Disturbed by their nonchalance, I say nothing and just nod my head. With that, Pip turns on their heels and continues on down the tunnel. 

When we approach the room of the druids, I can see light coming from the entryway. As we enter, I notice a group of people standing in front of the mural admiring it. I’d hoped we’d be alone, but there was no harm as long as the others didn’t follow us. I adjust my headlamp and walk closer to the mural. It is absolutely beautiful. The picture of women with long flowing hair in delicate chemises dancing under the moon with crowns of lilies atop their heads. Something about the mural brings a sense of peace over me, yet it is the kind of peace that is teetering between a lasting one and one that will crumpled.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it," I hear an unfamiliar American voice say.

I turn and look toward its owner when I see that it’s the man from Gens Beaux. Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I turn back to the mural and say, “Yes, the pictures online don’t do it any justice.”

“They really don’t,” He whispers, as he stares admiring the piece. 

I sigh, taking in one last look before I dip my head at the stranger and find my way back to Pip. “Pip,” I start, “There’s somewhere else I’d like you to take me tonight. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

Pip furrows their brow. “You wanted to see the druids, no? We are here.” Then with understanding, they take a step back raising their hands and beginning to shake their head. “Non, mon cher. I do not think that is wise.”

“I need to see them, Pip. If you will not take me, then tell me the way to them from here,” I plead.

With a heavy sigh, Pip puts their hands in their pockets and says, “Tell me why you must go.”

My breath catches and my heart pounds. “It’s personal.”

Narrowing their eyes, they say, “It is personal. You ask me to take you to your death but cannot share why?”

“You wouldn’t be taking me to my death. I can promise you that. But I cannot tell you why I have to see them,” I say firmly.

“Non,” They reply, lips in a thin line and eyes stern. They’re about to say something else when a woman comes up behind them and whispers in their ear. Turning, they whisper to the woman and they seem to be arguing. Pip is becoming frustrated when I hear them say, “Très bien, qu’il en soit ainsi!” as they throw up their hands in defeat.

“We will take you madame. You and them,” The woman says to me while pointing to the others.

This makes my stomach sink. I’d never planned for this. So few know that I hadn’t thought there would be anyone else.

“They know about Les Gaules?” I ask, not quite believing.

“Oui, ils le savent,” She replies.

“Ils sont au courant de tout?” I question.

She tilts her head and shrugs, “Est-ce important?”

Shaking my head, I glance over to the others. They’re laughing and joking amongst themselves. They shouldn’t be coming, but I can’t help but feel that there is nothing I can say to dissuade them. Looking back at the woman I nod and say, “Okay.”

She nods and claps her hands. “Everyone! Gather here, s’il vous plaît!” The others walk over and wait for her to continue. “We will be traveling to Les Gaules together. Pip and Addey have agreed to this. But, you must do everything we say. If we tell you to be quiet and not breathe, you are silent and hold your breath, oui?” We look amongst ourselves and nod in agreement. “Magnifique! Come, we go.”

“So you’ll be joining us to see the ritual then?” The longhaired stranger asks.

“I suppose so.” I sigh.

“Nice to have you with us,” He grins before sticking out his hand. “I’m Jake.” 

I take his hand and can’t help but smile as I shake it. “Addey.”

As he lets go of my hand, we both move to follow Pip and the other guide. Nearly bumping into one another, Jake takes a step back and gestures for me to go first. I smile and do so. As I walk ahead, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. There’s no way he, or the rest of them know what we’re walking into. If they did, they wouldn’t be so at ease.

I try to shake the feeling of guilt and dread, and continue on through the halls of the dead.

taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf, @edgingthedarkness, @jakekiszkashangnail08, @writingcold, @vanfleeter, @gretavanfleetposts, @katuschka, @thewritingbeforesunrise, @wrldabomination, @lipstickitty, @takenbythemadness

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Access Now condemns the suspension of X in Brazil

On August 30, 2024, Minister Alexandre de Moraes of Brazil’s Supreme Court ordered the suspension of X, following a months-long legal confrontation. The conflict began in April when the court mandated the suspension of several X accounts for allegedly spreading disinformation and attacking democracy. X’s failure to comply with this order led to the court imposing fines and threatening to imprison company representatives in the country. In response to these measures, the company decided not to pay the fines and instead closed their offices in the country which eventually resulted in the suspension of the entire platform in Brazil. On September 2, First Chamber Justices unanimously endorsed Moraes’ ruling. We note that the text of the proceedings remain sealed and more information is needed for a comprehensive analysis.

Access Now opposes the suspension of X in Brazil and is concerned by the growing trend of blocking of entire online platforms and applications as a response to systemic non-compliance. Such extreme actions are rarely proportionate as they violate people’s fundamental human rights and negatively impact the most marginalized communities instead of ensuring meaningful accountability from the platforms and mitigating their negative impact on human rights.

The recent block on X—formerly Twitter —in Brazil is a clear example of this trend, where approximately 22 million users are caught in the crossfire of platforms and judicial decisions. Moreover, the platform has had a big influence on political affairs and information sharing in Brazil. Blocking a platform does not solve the underlying issues of disinformation and hate speech. Instead, it limits access to information and stifles free expression, broadly, and in particular here, will have major implications for democracy as Brazil prepares to hold local elections in October.

International human rights law considers blocking online platforms a last resort measure if backed by significant procedural safeguards. They include providing advance notification of the blocking measures to affected parties and conducting an impact assessment of the measures to avoid their arbitrary or excessive effects. In addition, a blocking order has to be issued by an independent and impartial judicial body, and the legal basis for ordering platforms’ blocking must, among other things, be clear and predictable. 

Continue reading.

[mariacallous]

The social media site X (formerly Twitter) went dark last Saturday in Brazil, where it had an estimated more than 20 million users. The ban followed months of tensions between owner Elon Musk and Brazilian authorities.

Musk, who took over the site in 2022, has been increasingly vocal about Brazil’s domestic politics. His personal account has boosted right-wing politicians, cast doubts on the integrity of Brazil’s 2022 election, promoted posts about an upcoming political demonstration, and told foreign investors to stay away from the country.

Musk objected to court orders to suspend certain content on X, including the accounts of many right-wing activists, and last month, he refused to name a legal representative for the company in Brazil. Supreme Court Justice Alexandre de Moraes ruled that if X did not reinstate a representative by Aug. 29, the platform would be shut down.

When the day arrived, in anticipation of the ban, X’s global affairs account posted that Moraes’s moves were “manifestly illegal.” It also pledged to publish confidential Brazilian court filings containing Moraes’s orders. Musk posted that the judge was an “evil dictator.”

“Economic power and the size of one’s bank account do not produce some strange immunity from jurisdiction,” Supreme Court Justice Flávio Dino wrote Monday as part of a five-person panel that unanimously upheld Moraes’s ban. In the days since the shutdown, Brazilians have migrated to other microblogging sites, such as Bluesky and Threads.

The ban has reignited fierce debates over Brazil’s approach to online content moderation, as well as the conduct of its powerful judges. Brazilian federal judges stepped up their role in policing what they deem to be anti-democratic online content after the 2018 election that brought former President Jair Bolsonaro to power. His campaign was dominated by disinformation, and social media platforms often fell short of their own pledges to moderate it.

Brazil is globally unique for the extent to which its judges moderate online content, University of São Paulo law professor Rafael Mafei told the Café da Manhã podcast. That’s because “the institution that should be leading this discussion, Congress, is not willing to do so,” Mafei said.

When Bolsonaro ran for reelection in 2022, a group of federal judges tasked with overseeing elections—led by Moraes—ordered X, then still known as Twitter, to remove accounts that spread unproved claims of election fraud and praised demonstrations objecting to the result of the vote. (A mob vowing to overturn Bolsonaro’s election loss later stormed various government buildings in the capital, Brasília.)

At the time, Moraes’s social media policing was generally applauded by Brazil’s political center and left. But a growing number of Brazilians have also slammed his content policing as opaque and excessive. Many of the court’s takedown orders in 2022 and since were never publicized. To critics, the secret proceedings—and the fact that the banned accounts were from similar political camps—smacked of censorship.

Moraes moved alone in ordering the new ban on X; only days later did he get an endorsement from the Supreme Court panel that included Dino. Moraes also received widespread criticism from across the political spectrum for ordering a ban on the use of virtual private networks (VPN) to access X—and a hefty fine for violating it. The Brazilian Bar Association filed a lawsuit to reverse the VPN fine.

Still, many people, including Brazilian digital rights experts and Brazilian lawmakers, have defended the X shutdown. Musk’s open efforts to sway Brazilian politics raised the stakes for regulators to take a stand, journalist Rubens Valente wrote in Agência Pública. “To find something similar to Musk’s crusade, you need to go back 60 years to the role of the United States in the 1964 coup.”

“While the threat of blocking [a platform] is nothing new and is provided for in our legal system, this case stands out as the first one a large scale in which a company has completely ignored court rulings for days—and sought the spotlight for it,” Brazilian researcher Fernanda Campagnucci told Foreign Policy’s Rishi Iyengar. She added that the measure, “although drastic, was necessary.”

[john-laurens-hamilton]

Quick summary of John Laurens' life

John Laurens was born to Henry and Eleanor Laurens on October 28th, 1754. With sparkling blue eyes and hair described to be the color of honey, since his teens, he had no trouble attracting company. At the tender age of 13 years old, he was already as tall as his father. In a letter to his friend, he says that he was too immersed in his studies to pay attention to any of the girls who swarmed around him. At the start, this was assumed to be a testimony of Laurens' maturity in his career.

In 1771, he moved to London shortly before his 17th birthday, then, quickly to Ginebra, the next year, to incourse in Law studies. Since his childhood, everyone noticed the young boy had a great interest in medicine, Botanics, and arts; but Henry decided it would be best for his son to stay in the family path of politics.

In Geneva, Laurens met Francis Kinloch, assumed to be his first love. Kinloch was also from South Carolina, one year younger. John desired to stay in Geneva with him, but his departure to London to finish his studies lends us a glance at their relationship through their letters. I highlight one excerpt that would be similar to future letters: "Adieu, kiss all the pretty Genevoises from me, and don't delay writing to your affectionate Laurens." (these are translated to Spanish in my notes and then back to English in the process of writing.)

Laurens and Kinloch, despite their homoerotic relationship, disagreed in political matters. This would ultimately be the point of breaking their relationship; while Laurens was an ardent patriot, Kinloch leaned toward loyalism. At the start, this didn't make their bond break, as John says in a letter from April 12, 1776: "You and I may differ, my Dear Kinloch, in our political sentiments, but I shall always love you for the knowledge I have of your heart." Francis' answer to this letter is what many consider their breakup: "If you see any I know from upon the Carolinians of your acquaintance, give them my regards: I won't be thought of forgetting them or my country. Be sure I shall never forget you."

Almost immediately after this letter was delivered, John saw himself involved in his first and only affair with a woman: Martha Manning. Their relationship was friendly before this incident, and during it, it was purely sexual. In an incredible strike of bad luck, Martha got pregnant with Laurens' child. Five months after their daughter's conception, they got married, on the 26th of October, 1776. Laurens wrote to his uncle: "Pity has obliged me to marry." Then, in an egoistical move, he sailed to the Colonies and presented himself as a volunteer aide-de-camp to General Washington. There was no turning back; Laurens never saw his wife or his daughter, Frances Laurens, again.

In 1777, he met his last and most prominent love: Alexander Hamilton. Described with reddish hair, slightly freckled, and "deep azure eyes, eminently beautiful, without the slightest trace of hardness or severity." They are theorized to have fallen in love with each other, and this maintained itself until his death day. Possibly the most romantic letter opens this way, surely known by everyone who has looked into the subject:

"Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, by actions rather than words, to convince you that I love you." In this letter, many instances let us see into the nature of them, maybe the following worth highlighting:

"I mind you do justice to the length of my nose, and don't forget that I _____"

After, there are five words crossed out, probably by J. C. Hamilton, looking to protect his father's legacy. There are many theories and analyses of what those words might be. One of them is very convincing, well-founded and probably accurate, but out of respect for the owner of this theory, I won't use. In any way, considering the context—the size of one's nose was an euphemism for the size of the penis—it insinuates Laurens knew what Hamilon's penis looked like.

Laurens pushed Alexander to get married; that way, he might get rid of his unholy desires for men. In 1780, Hamilton married Eliza Schuyler, and wrote how his marriage wouldn't change the devotion toward him. Noneteheless, in 1782, Laurens wrote his last letter to Hamilton, signed as: "you knows the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens."

Hamilton answered, asking John to drop his sword and put on a toga: "come to congress, my friend, the war is over," and signed it as "yours forever." Twelve days later, John died in Tuesday the 27th of August, 1782. We'll never know wether he read that letter.