#there are like. four people he is polite with
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This is false. Anarchy can be both Left and Right. Anarcho-Capitalism and Left-wing Anarchism are nearly the same. However, both far-Left and far-Right can also bring up extreme authoritarian systems, Communism for the far-Left and Fascism for the far-Right.
The issue with the American perspective is, that due to the US' anarcho-capitalism, Americans have the definitions of socialism, communism, autocracy/tyranny and fascism completely wrong. Most Americans use those four terms interchangeably, and use both Nazi Germany and the USSR as interchangeable historical examples of those terms.
The reality is, that the rich abhor government regulation that stops them from exploiting all their workers and customers. Because of how dictated by capitalism the US is, those rich people have, over centuries, perpetuated the narrative in the American public that any and all government regulation, as well as any and all Left-wing policy, is inherently autocratic and oppressive. They've also gotten Americans to equate the literal textbook example of dictatorship, Nazi Germany, with regulation and Left-wing policy. This has expanded from economic regulation to pretty much all regulation by now, including guns.
The reality is, that communism, socialism, autocracy/tyranny and fascism are four very different things.
SOCIALISM is the fundamental sociopolitical idea that the grand majority of people are controlled and oppressed by the rich and powerful 1% and that the grand majority must use strength in numbers to resist this, in order to attain fairness and equal opportunities in society.
COMMUNISM is an economic system that is founded on socialist principles, which forces complete control, not regulation, upon not just companies, but all citizens and groups, in adherence to master plan set forth by the government. All communists are socialists, but not all socialists are communists.
FASCISM is the fundamental sociopolitical idea that, despite technological advancement, the principles of nature still apply to human society. This is derived from Social Darwinism. Fascists say that, because of this supposed reality, only the strongest survive, and that mankind must be purified via conflict, so that only the strongest will remain and breed with each other. This is derived from Eugenicism. It usually also comes with extreme militarism, fusing the military into the public way of life. Fascism can also have a religious angle, such as with Christofascism, in which the narrative says the fascists are superior and chosen, not by genetics but by god, to conquer and enslave everyone else. In historically fascist nations like Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, this led to a system in which a strongman dictator commanded a hand-selected political elite, as well as paramilitary enforcers (blackshirts and brownshirts), to do an enforce his bidding. While, just like the USSR, these nations were certainly tyrannical, the driving method and ideology were completely different. Under fascism, capitalism and religion can also continue to exist, unlike under communism. By the way, the Nazis were NOT socialist. While the term 'Nazi' is an abbreviation for the Hitler-coined term 'Nationalist Socialism', which he used for his movement that was copied from Mussolini's fascist movement, it had nothing to do with socialism. Hitler quite simply used the term to gain mass appeal for his ideology, because, in light of the communist revolution in russia 1917, socialism was trendy among the german public. Factually, millions of german communists were arrested, tortured and murdered by the Nazis. Also, the term 'Fascism', coined by Mussolini, derives from the Latin word 'Fasces', meaning 'Bundle'. As in, according to Mussolini, the people must be bundled by force, in order to be strong.
AUTOCRACY/TYRANNY is quite simply any form of government in which the populace gets no power over the government's agenda, and the government's agenda is dictated by a single person or a small group of people.
Note how none of these things directly pertain to guns. I made my initial point about Concealed Carry Reciprocity, not so much for the sake of arguing in favor of gun control, but to warn about the political violence which Donald Trump WILL incite and instrumentalize, in order to consolidate power. As already explained, this method of using political violence is indeed fascist.
To add to my original point, this video by former US Secretary of Labor Robert Reich, who explains extremely well why Donald Trump is a fascist.
youtube
TL;DR: Communism, Socialism, Autocracy/Tyranny and Fascism are very distinct concepts that cannot be referred to interchangeably. The United States' rampant capitalism has popularized exactly this mentality, in order to demonize the very concept of government regulation.
Yes, this text is copy-pasted, FROM MYSELF. Since I've had to repeat the same arguments to different people in this discussion multiple times, I just took the time to word my arguments in the most elaborate way possible, so I can copy-paste them instead of constantly rewriting the same stuff. In rewriting the same stuff over and over again, I previously also made an ass of myself when I didn't thoroughly think my replies through before sending them, and instead stooped to the level of people who personally insulted me for having an opinion they dislike.
Here's an Example as to why Donald Trump is fascist
Donald Trump wants Concealed Carry Reciprocity.
What is that?
In the United States, it is not automatically legal to carry a firearm in a concealed manner just because one has a firearms license. One needs to obtain a special additional permission to do so. Like most things in the United States, Concealed Carry is decided on a state-by-state basis, meaning a person's permission for Concealed Carry only applies in the state it in which it was issued.
Concealed Carry Reciprocity is the legal concept that a permission for Concealed Carry, issued in any state, applies in all states. So, if a gun owner was permitted to Concealed Carry in Oklahoma, he can currently only do so in Oklahoma. Doing it in any other state is a crime. Under Concealed Carry Reciprocity, it would not be.
What does Donald Trump intend with this?
Donald Trump knows that his most loyal followers live in deep red states, which also have the highest concentrations of gun owners. Due to the high concentrations and due to Republicans being generally against gun control, it is likelier that more gun owners in red states have Concealed Carry permission. Donald Trump wants to allow people to Concealed Carry in any state if they've received permission in one, because he knows that most people who will take advantage of this will be his most loyal followers.
Donald Trump plans to lay the groundwork for his version of Mussolini's Blackshirts and Hitler's Brownshirts, his own paramilitary force of loyal followers who are ready to attack and murder fellow citizens in open daylight for their political positions that oppose their idol. Concealed Carry Reciprocity makes it easier for them to do this.
This is fascism.
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Idea | Previous Part
tw: future dom-sub relationship, sexually explicit content, pet names, age gap (early twenties - late thirties)
The moment your eyes connected, you felt the typical blush rise onto your cheeks. The blush that always seemed to come when Mister Riley was nearby. He smiled down at you, the lower half of his face hidden behind a surgical mask, as always, but the crinkle around his eyes betrayed him.
With a quiet mumble of your name and a hand on your lower back, he ushered you forward, until you stood at the other end of the counter, where you had to wait for your drink. Meanwhile, his hand didn’t move, only pulling you against him whenever other people got too close. You tried to tell yourself that this, his behavior, his…almost possessiveness, meant nothing. He was just being nice and polite as always. Just keeping you safe, even if there was no threat nearby.
When you finally received your drink, Mister Riley led you back to your table - you didn’t question how he knew where you were sitting. “How are you doing, love?” Mister Riley got comfortable, taking off his black wool coat and hanging it over the back of the chair next to his, before resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. You on the other hand shifted nervously. All the hope that your little crush had faded in the last few years was gone.
The way he was looking at you sent your heart into a frenzy, beating as if you were running a marathon, when you were just sitting across from him in a cafe. Not even four years of not seeing him could stop the effect he had on you.
When he suddenly raised an eyebrow, you realized you never answered his question. “Oh, uhm…I’m good. A bit stressed, but that’s it.” You tried to smile but weren’t sure if it reached your eyes. By the look he gave you, you could tell that it didn’t. “What about you, sir?” He chuckled, the low sound reverberating in your heart. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Simon, huh?” Your face flushed again and you wished you could see his grin through his mask. A stammered answer fell from your lips, but he interrupted you, the joyful expression replaced by a frown.
“What’s stressing you, little one?” The look in his eyes was intense, as if he was ready to kill whatever dared to stress you and the nickname didn’t help the butterflies in your stomach. This means nothing. He’s not interested, goddamnit! Your eyes found a weird carved-in spot on the table in front of you. It was suddenly very interesting. “Oh, you know…just college.” You dared to glance up, just to see his frown deepen, clearly not believing a word you were saying. Suddenly, that one weird, carved spot on the table became incredibly interesting. As you were lightly tracing it with the tip of your right index finger, he reached across the table and gently tilted your head to look up at him. “What’s really going on?” A heavy sigh left your lips before everything just spilled out of you.
How your father just disappeared and stopped sending you the money you needed for the apartment and everything else. How you had to move into the worst part of town ever and how you’ve been looking for a job ever since. You tried to hide just how desperate you were, he didn’t have to know that you had a fantastic ten pounds left in your account right now. And you had already tapped into your savings. Sadly you needed your father’s permission to tap into the fund he had sat up for you.
Mister Ril- Simon listened quietly, concern evident on his face as you jumped from one issue to the next. And when you were done, he pulled out his wallet. Your eyes widened immediately and you started to shake your head as he held out what looked like a credit card. “No, no. Mister Riley, no, I can’t accept that, I-”, before you could continue your protests, his fingers closed around your chin again and held your mouth shut. “You’re going to be a good girl, take this card and say thank you, okay? And call me Simon.”
Heat immediately rushed to your core, the gravely tone doing something to you, as you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. With the tight grip on you, you couldn’t move your head too much, but it was just enough for a slight nod. A grin formed under that mask again and he let go, pulling his hand back, but not without letting his fingers linger slightly. “Good girl.”
You swallowed again, noticing how his eyes immediately jumped to your throat. In the moment you weren’t sure if you imagined them turning darker for just a moment before he looked back into your eyes. The two of you held the eye contact for a few moments, before you broke it, once again looking down at that one spot. He cleared his throat, the awkwardness in the air disappearing when he started talking again.
“I want you to use that card for whatever you need, okay? You’re in college, I want you to concentrate on your studies, you hear me? And if you need more, just say the word.” You nodded again, already knowing that you’d continue with your job hunt as soon as he left. And that you would definitely not be using that card for, like, anything. As much as you appreciated him wanting to help, you knew that you could do it on your own.
“Also, about that apartment-” He was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking against the floor of the cafe. Both of you looked up as a gorgeous woman, similar age to his, walked up, smiling, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you almost done, dear? We still have that meeting with-”, she glanced at you and quickly corrected herself. “-that meeting we have to get to.” Your eyes immediately focused on the sparkling ring on her finger. It was beautiful, even if a little too sparkly for you. Simon looked up at her and smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll be right out. Tell Johnny to keep the engine on.” The woman nodded and smiled one more time at you before she left.
She seemed kind, but the jealousy that bubbled in your veins wanted you to hate her. From what you had just witnessed, you doubted you could. “I’m sorry, but she’s right, I have to go. Give me your phone.” Too stunned to do anything but comply, you unlocked it and handed it to him. He quickly put something - his number you assumed - and rung himself, before handing it back. He stood up and put on his coat, looking at you one more time. “Ring me if you ever need something, okay? And be a good girl and do as you’re told.” He leaned over, grasping your chin one last time and making you look at him. You weakly nodded, your mind still hung up on the gorgeous wife of his.
His eyes narrowed, but after a second of hesitation, he too nodded, before pressing a gentle kiss against your cheek, through his mask. “Be good.” And with those words, he pulled back, turned around, and left the cafe, while you just sat there, staring at the door he walked through and thinking to yourself ‘the fuck was that’.
Next Part
A/N: Really enjoyed writing this part. I hope you like it!
@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld @msjaeger @oreojenni @starlightmoon2020 @piconico17 @l1lpip @originalsoulcollector
#ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost fanfiction#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost simon riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cod#cod fanfiction#cod x reader#mafia!simon riley#mafia!simon riley x reader#mafia!141#pretty little burden
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Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.
The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.
Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.
Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.
Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.
Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.
When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.
They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.
Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.
The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.
Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.
He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.
He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.
He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back
He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.
Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.
Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.
Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?
Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?
#From the perspective of someone who grew up poor#I've always found comfort in the knowledge#that I would never be expected to do something great#which means#that I get to project that onto the sillies#steddie#fanfiction#plot bunny#eddie munson#steve harrington#dreamer speaks#stranger things#One again I ask myself#is this anything?#insert shrug emoji
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Massage(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1/2)
Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body
��Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?” Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…” Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.
My sensual take on Rook's dinner date with Emmrich, and how it lead to them sleeping together for the first time.
Rating: Explicit
Under the cut or on ao3
Neve was right - I should have worn the old shoes…
She shifted her knee upward slightly and pressed the ball of her foot into the ground, freeing her right heel from stiff new leather and hiding her grimace of relief behind the rim of her wine glass as she wriggled her somewhat crushed toes now that they weren’t crammed together, fighting for space in the narrow toe box.
There were a perfectly good pair of well broken in heels sitting in her wardrobe back at the Lighthouse that would have been more than acceptable to wear to dinner with Emmrich, but no, she just had to go to Dock Town earlier in the day with Neve who had all but insisted she buy herself something nice for the occasion…
‘Not saying you don’t know how to clean up - I know you Watchers are a well put together bunch, but I don’t know… maybe you’ll have a nicer evening if you’re not sitting across from Emmrich wearing the same clothes you wear to make funeral arrangements with people?‘
‘I’m almost certain he’ll be sitting across from me wearing the same clothes he wears to make funeral arrangements with people,’ Amina had pointed out, and Neve laughed.
‘How sure are you about that? I’d put my money on him showing up in the most formal, four-piece ensemble he owns if it helps his chances of getting you into bed tonight.’
She had a point - but not about sex. Amina knew perfectly well that weeks and weeks of burning tension shrouded under the polite mantle of collegial professionalism had become increasingly difficult to ignore now that they were… well - now that they were… together. That shoe was going to have to drop sooner rather than later, unless…She wrinkled her nose at the very thought: Unless he was the sort to take a courtship so seriously that abstinence from intimate activities was expected until she shared his name…
But no… surely not. Not judging by the way his hands wandered confidently around her waist and his lips eagerly roamed her neck when he kissed her against the Lovers’ Grave.
Be that as it may, she still didn’t want to overdress for the occasion - how embarrassing would that be? How oblivious?
Her face reddened at the imagined awkwardness of waiting for Emmrich at the eluvian, dressed in a lavish floor-skimming evening gown and gloves, her mass of sleek black hair time-consumingly plaited and pinned up to emphasize the small amount of grave gold that she owned, retrieved from its dusty velvet-lined box for the first time in years because she never had occasion - nor the desire - to actually wear any of it, unlike her gentlemanly new companion who clanged and clattered around everywhere he went like a sentient drawer of silverware.
He’d inevitably appear, descending the stairs from the library wearing what he wore every day - that well-loved waistcoat, a crisp clean shirt, and his favoured combed Druffalo wool trousers. He’d look as handsome as always, and not at all underdressed for a romantic dinner in the
Necropolis, and his eyes would widen at the spectacle of her dressed like she was heading off for cocktails with the King of Ferelden. The corners of his mouth would twitch and he’d clear his throat in a polite attempt to stifle his laughter.
At her.
At how absolutely stupid she looked.
‘It’s dinner - not a setup for a marriage proposal, Neve.’
‘If you say so, but if there’s a cummerbund involved, you owe me five gold.’
‘He wears a cummerbund every day,’ she sighed, turning and pulling open the door to one of the many clothing boutiques populating the market district.
‘I thought it was a sash.’
‘Don’t let him hear you say that unless you want an hour long oration on the particulars of ‘a gentleman’s wardrobe.’’
At the sound of the bell over the door tinkling, the boutique owner appeared from behind a rack of angular Tevene formal gowns.
She wiped her clammy palms on her pants - shit she was bad at this. She always had been. She hadn’t even been on a dinner date in what… three years?
And now she was sitting across from him, as predicted, wearing the stiff deepstalker leather shoes she’d purchased in a state of utter panic at the shop, along with a plunging, emerald green satin blouse that Neve insisted she leave with, and a new fishtail skirt that she admittedly quite liked: it was a woven fabric, mid-length, pinstriped in black and a rich chocolate brown. The ruffled hem was arranged with thin laces that lended the article a rather pretty bustled look that she thought nicely accentuated the curve of her rear. Disaster of an evening or not, that skirt was going to become a frequently worn item.
And as for the prospect of sleeping together…
She tipped back her glass again. Found it empty.
Dammit.
“Allow me.”
She looked up from the empty crystal goblet to see Emmrich’s hand reaching over the table, waiting patiently for her to pass him the glass. The warm light of the candles on the table between them contrasted with the cool light of the veilfire lanterns and the subtle, ever shifting glow of the wisps that floated lazily around them, drawn to curiously observe the spectacle of the two courting Watchers taking their dinner in the Memorial Gardens.
He had indeed dressed as she predicted: put together, poised… perfect. A man who looked like he was always prepared to hold court at a lectern, soothe a wayward spirit, or arrange a romantic meal complete with an embossed menu with gilded corners.
He was so untouchable, so lofty and distinguished, yet there was an aspect of him that she still couldn’t quite place - perhaps she hadn’t known him long enough yet. Perhaps their relationship was still too new and he’d not seen fit to reveal such parts of himself to her for fear that she would flee. Whatever it was dwelled deep beneath that veneer of perfection, shrouded so well from view that it simply begat speculation.
Was he some sort of deviant? Was this all a facade to disguise a self-serving, narcissistic monster who would eventually wear her down and rob her of her personhood as he claimed her and reduced her to little more than a pretty possession to wear on his arm to fancy parties?
Maybe this was just how he operated: luring in vulnerable and attractive partners until he bored of them and left them for someone more interesting?
Was he a priggish asshole and this was a finely honed act that had worked well for his purposes until he no longer had need to maintain it?
There had to be a reason why a man as genuine and kind as this hadn’t been snatched up decades earlier.
There had to be some literal or figurative skeleton lurking in his closet, and once she tore open the doors and shed light on it, she suspected would step back and place her hands on her hips as she surveyed the stinking desiccated corpse of Truth with a grim and knowing smile, simultaneously satisfied and despondent that she had finally confirmed that Emmrich Volkarin was in fact too good to be true, just as she knew he’d be.
‘Ah yes, there it is,’ she’d say with the nonchalance of someone who’d just found a missing earring stuck behind a cushion, utterly unsurprised and proud of herself for seeing through him and catching onto his game before he could do any real damage. Then she’d gently close the doors of the closet and leave, and he would never hear from her again.
But until such time…
Her scarlet lips parted in a smile and she extended her hand, slipping the delicate crystal stem into his fingers, not drawing back when they made contact, her fingertips brushing over over his own and lingering for perhaps a moment longer than they needed to before they parted and he refilled her glass, the steady ‘glug, glug’ of the wine filling the silence between them.
He passed it back to her and she said thank you, and this time it was his fingers that lingered - like he had been waiting for some sort of unspoken permission to touch her.
Heat pooled in her belly, and she pressed her thighs together, letting her other heel slip from its shoe, praying he couldn’t see the flush that was heating her cheeks under the rouge that she wore on them. She drank from the glass and set it down gently, returning to the stunningly arranged blood orange salad on the plate before her, collecting a few pine nuts on her fork before skewering a mouthful of greens as silence fell between them again.
Fuck - this was just as awkward as she thought it would be - he was probably regretting suggesting this in the first place…
“What do you make of the wine?”
Oh good, they were going to make small talk about what they were drinking: one of the most blatant indications that a date was going terribly.
“It’s nice. Refresh me on its origin?”
He set down his fork and held up his own glass to the candlelight, swirling the semi-translucent garnet vintage and watching it recede down the sides, observing its legs discerningly. “Quite enigmous, truth be told: an entire crate of bottles was left sitting outside the main gate of the Necropolis over a decade ago with no note, no shipping manifest, each bottle containing this same wine - Adirondack Red, according to the label, bottled on well… a date that falls outside the format of any Chantry, Tevinter, or Elven calendars going back to the beginning of dated history.” He angled the glass and dipped his nose into the bowl, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the fragrance of the wine. He took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue before smiling pleasantly at Amina. “Could it be the mystery of it that makes it taste so scintillating, or does it stand on its own merit?”
“Mhmm…” Amina breathed, realizing she hadn’t blinked in over a minute - she’d been tracking Emmrich’s every move with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory… hungry. The heat that simmered deep in her core flared and sparked, embers of its existence rising up through her like molten sap spitting from a piece of burning pine. “Merit…”
He set the glass down, folding his long fingered hands together in front of him to lean forward slightly, his expression soft and inquisitive.
“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”
Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…”
Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.
His hand found hers on her side of the table, covering it and imparting a gentle squeeze.
“I’m… yes. Yes, I suppose I am.” she finally admitted, staring at his hand on hers, still unable to meet his eyes.
“So am I.”
That did it.
His thumb danced over her skin, sending welcome jolts of sensation up her arm. She dared to lift her gaze to find him regarding her with a look of understanding affection, his moustache quirked slightly, following the curve of his soft smile. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?”
“Yes, actually,” she managed, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you, Emmrich.”
“Think nothing of it, darling.” He lifted her hand over the table and pressed his lips against the backs of her fingers. “Do try to enjoy yourself - tonight is only for us: there is no expectation, nor misplaced assumption… not on my part, at least.”
He was right: it wasn’t that he was telling her to pretend she was having a nice time for the benefit of his ego. He truly did want her to relax, loosen up, and just… be.
“It’s been uh… quite awhile since I’ve spent time with someone like this. I think I’ve forgotten how.” Despite the self-deprecating statement she felt some of the tension in her shoulders release as Emmrich set her hand back down on the table, and she felt safe enough to laugh a little.
His own chuckle of amusement joined hers and he sat back and picked up his fork again. “I daresay I find myself in a similar predicament, dear Rook, but I can’t think of better company in which to reacquaint myself with such things.”
Maker’s breath he’s smooth…
They finished their salad and the remaining courses with much more ease, conversation flowing as effortlessly between them as it had since Amina started taking him up on his daily invitations to tea instead of diligently avoiding him as she had in those early days in the Lighthouse.
They covered the standard array of dinner date conversation topics: favourite colours, exactly how long it had been since either of them had been in a relationship, and what attracted them to each other in the first place. It was predictable, typical fare that neither tread too far into the realms of disclosing any damning personal flaws, nor deflected enough to draw suspicion that the other was being deliberately obfuscating.
Normally Amina loathed this brand of superficial small talk - it really didn’t tell one much about a person - nothing important, at any rate. But perhaps it was the Adirondack wine, heady and rich, curiously rife with something that could only be described as magic. Or it could have been the way she kept catching faint whiffs of his fresh, mossy cologne when he waved his hands through the air as he spoke, but as traditionally banal as the topics were, she found herself hanging onto his every word: watching the shape his mouth made as he enunciated certain vowels and consonants, savouring the charming lilt of his tone and how she could nearly pinpoint the exact place in his chest from which his voice resonated…
Then of course there was the food itself: a varied and inspired spread that incorporated an exotic bevy of ingredients that Amina knew to be aphrodisiac in nature: figs and pomegranates, saffron, and spicy peppers that were sweet on her tongue but left her lips tingling, blood-flushed, and tantalizingly swollen.
There was no overlooking the sensual tone of the menu, each course arranged like art on the plate; each morsel designed to arouse and stimulate all five of the senses: it was a meal designed to impress - and to seduce: to make plain his desire for her in the form of an elegant, sophisticated proposition.
Yet here they were, well into dessert (a sinful dark chocolate gateau that was decadent and rich, but didn’t leave her feeling overfull) still trading surface based small talk and polite compliments: they might as well have been at the annual Wintersend Ball put on for all the Watchers, surrounded by colleagues and apprentices.
It was frustrating to say the least: her arousal had made itself known over the course of the evening; blood rushing to her sex, engorging her as she shifted in her chair, bare upper thighs damp as Emmrich prattled on about flowers.
Amina set her fork lengthways across her bare plate and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin before neatly folding it and placing it atop the plate as well. “That was delicious.”
Emmrich finished the last bite of his gateau as well and his fork hovered over his plate as his eyes locked on her mouth and he leaned forward, “You’ve got… there’s a bit of chocolate still–” he laughed - not the cruel, jeering laugh she imagined earlier, but one of charmed endearment - and tapped the left corner of his mouth, “-here.”
Amina probed her tongue around the corner in question, “There?”
It was Emmrich’s turn to look bashful, blushing slightly as he shook his head and lifted a hand towards her, pausing midway to ask, “May I?” She nodded and his thumb found the corner of her mouth, delicately sweeping up the chocolate in question.
He had been about to draw back, pleased that the offending confectionary had been satisfactorily dealt with, but Amina - having spent months dancing around this man, and having officially tired of it as of this moment - caught his wrist and drew his thumb across her lower lip, parting her mouth just enough to lick the bittersweet smudge from his fingertip, smiling when his eyes widened slightly at her audacity as she gently dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom teeth.
“So chivalrous,” she noted, a hush to her voice that could no longer be attributed to nerves.
He reddened further, swallowed, and managed to take his hand back, promptly scooping up the dregs of his wine as he retreated back to his side of the table. His other hand, Amina observed, had vanished under the table for a fleeting moment and was accompanied by a slight shifting in his seat that did absolutely nothing to quell her very active imagination.
He was nervous, the fact made abundantly clear now that she was actively flirting with him instead of staying within the safe, unthreatening confines of civilized conversation that he was most comfortable in.
He wanted to bed her. He wanted to take that next massive step forward in their relationship. Why else would he have used his sway to have the Gardens cordoned off for the night just for them? Why else would he have conceptualized a culinary experience so blatantly steeped in raw erotic overtones? She knew Emmrich well enough by now to know that he didn’t make oblivious mistakes when it came to romantic gestures.
She was more than willing to partake in his flesh if he was keen on hers, so why the hesitance?
Clumsy silence reigned once more as a skeletal servant cleared away their dessert plates and placed a stemmed cordial glass filled with an opaque daffodil coloured liqueur in front of each of them.
Knowing full well what it was, Amina plucked the delicate glass from the table with fingers that were deceptively gentle despite the scarred, gnarled state of them. “What have we here?” She asked Emmrich as the servant shuffled away.
“Antivan Limón - a vivacious digestif that rounds out a fine meal quite nicely.” He lifted his own between his thumb and forefinger, immediately appearing relieved to be talking about drinks again.
She sipped it, savouring the bright, tart flavour as it pirouetted over her taste buds like a crisp summer breeze: light and vivacious indeed. “Mmmm… it is lovely.” She lowered the glass but didn’t set it down, softly tapping her lacquered fingernails against the patterned crystal. She looked up at Emmrich and treated him to the same soft, kind smile he’d shown her earlier. “Forgive me if I come off as overly familiar, Emmrich, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”
The cordial glass wobbled in his hand at her words and he used the other to steady it before putting it down on the table where it would be safe.
“I suppose I am,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the familiarity of this conversation.
“So am I,” she quipped, and she leaned over the table to place a soft kiss on his heated cheek, then the quaint line of his smile, etched into his skin from so many years of the kindness and compassion that he gave so freely; then the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed him fully, her tongue feathering past her lips to taste the summery limón that clung to his. He parted for her and she slipped into his mouth, caressing his tongue with her own for only the barest moment before pulling away and sinking back down into her chair. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?”
“It does,” he breathed, looking bemused, evidently not yet trusting himself to pick up the cordial glass again. Instead, he studied her, his rich hazel eyes taking in every detail of her hair, her face, and her bare shoulders. “You look truly ravishing tonight, dear.”
Emboldened, Amina smoothed the front of the low cut satin blouse with one hand, pushing her shoulders back and her chest out. “You mentioned that when we met at the eluvian earlier, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
The wine. It had to be the wine. And now the limón which was considerably stronger was making its way through her bloodstream too, and perhaps she should stop now before she made a complete fool of herself, but…
“What do you think of my shoes? I bought them just for tonight.” She slammed her heels back down into the shoes in question and lifted her feet under the table, depositing them tidily into Emmrich’s lap, causing him to jump with such abruptness that the table shifted and the candles wobbled, “Sorry,” she demurred, reaching out to steady a candlestick to keep it from falling over.
He looked down at the shiny, midnight blue shoes in his lap, the pointed toes catching veilfire and wisplight, his mouth wonderfully agape.
“They’re… they’re lovely, dear…” He rasped, his hands disappearing from the surface of the table to softly caress the leather against his fingers, curling them around the sides of her feet and tracing the shape of the expensive shoes, finding the silken texture of her stockings as they wandered towards her ankles. Something changed in his expression then - like he’d woken up and come to his senses. She half expected him to shove her feet off of him and admonish her for her lack of decorum. Instead he looked up at her, his eyes burning with passion. “But they’re hurting you.”
“They’re not,” she lied, tossing back another sip of limón.
“My valiant, stalwart Reaper,” he tutted. “You do our order credit with your devotion, don’t you?” His hands curved beneath her ankles and his thumbs hooked under the pitch of the shoes, popping them free from her soles. “You concealed your discomfort admirably until we were two thirds of our way through the Vault of The Beloved.”
She flicked her hair, maintaining nonchalance even though every one of his calculated touches filled her with a ravenous need for more - for all of him - as much as he would give her. “That’s ridiculous. This is hardly my first time wearing shoes in this style.”
“Oh I’ve seen you traipse around the Lighthouse in shoes like these often enough…” he murmured, his fingers and palms still roving over her feet and ankles tenderly. Had the candles just dimmed slightly? “...and I consider myself to be quite capable of discerning the difference between your comfortable stride, and your belaboured one: I am familiar with the finer points of anatomy.”
Oh. Well that was certainly a response. A response that was… dripping with entendre?
“Been watching me, have you, love?” Her eyebrow raised, her heart made itself comfortable somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.
“I can’t help myself, you see, though I have tried to compose myself and observe you with the deference you deserve…” He tugged the shoes fully from her feet and set them on the ground next to him, enfolding her tiny, pedicured toes in his large, warm hands. “But try as I may, I see glimpses of you in nearly everything I perceive of late: your smile fades through beams of dusty sunlight; a verdant gaze regards me from every living thing in Harding’s greenhouse… I fear I am bewitched, darling Amina, yet the eye does not go wanting when it has the privilege of looking upon you. If I am indeed under your spell, it is surely the happiest curse in existence.”
His thumbs curved into the balls of her feet, cradling her arch and working slow circles into the tense, cramped joints as she took in his words - played them over in her mind… lived in them.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting him to say, but it… it wasn’t that.
“Emmrich…” she sighed, taking another mouthful of limón and letting her head fall back. The stupid shoes were agony, but his fingers were rapidly undoing the damage they’d done.
“They are stunning shoes, for what it’s worth.” He gathered her right foot in both his hands and began languidly massaging, “But you needn’t sacrifice your comfort in an effort to impress - I assure you: you’ve already accomplished that.”
Unable to help herself anymore at his words, her left foot dallied, stretched, and found what it was looking for - the growing bulge in his pants, pinned against his thigh. She curled her toes against it, marking the catch of Emmrich’s breath and the flutter of his eyelids as she felt him under her toes, her heart beating faster, mouth going dry, touching for the first time this aspect of his anatomy that she had so often fantasized about late at night in her room, her own fingers moving inside her as she fucked herself to climax imagining they were his hard, hot cock pounding into her instead.
It was her favourite thing to think about recently.
“Is this alright?” She asked, watching his throat bob; watching his eyes glass over and then darken with lust.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice straining as he watched her continue rubbing her petite, stocking-clad foot against his hard, clothed cock under the table. “Oh… darling, yes…”
Amina swallowed the last of her limón and set the glass on the table, tugging her right foot from Emmrich’s hand and softly caressing his cock with both feet now. “Don’t worry about me, Emmrich: I knew exactly what I was getting into when I selected those shoes.”
His fingers clasped over her toes again and stroked her feet over his length, his hips arcing subtly into her soles. “I had rather been hoping we might get to know one another better tonight, but I must say: I didn’t anticipate dessert taking this turn,” he murmured, something even more sinful than the chocolate gateau dwelling in his smile.
“Would you like me to stop?” She meant it: she wanted him to enjoy himself, not feel uncomfortable.
“Of course not–”
She traced the shape of him with her flawless feet again, coaxing a soft hiss from him.
“But we should–”
“- get out of here?” She finished for him. “Indulge in a nightcap back at the Lighthouse?”
Neither of them were inexperienced in this arena: they both knew that ‘a nightcap’ consisted of Emmrich burying himself to the hilt between her legs, and both of them finally finding the release they craved after what felt like an eternity of yearning for one another.
“That sounds like a marvelous idea, dear.” He nodded tightly, threw back his entire glass of limón in a single go, and slipped Amina’s shoes back on her feet before standing, the front of his pants visibly straining as he swept around to her side of the table and pulled her chair away from the table - gentlemanly even in his haste to leave this place.
Amina rose to her feet with Emmrich’s hand and twined her fingers between his as he began to lead her from the table, snagging their coats from the nearby coat rack and draping them over his forearm, concealing his arousal from anyone they might might pass by on their route back to the eluvian.
She managed not to limp the distance to the doors of the garden, and before they left the gardens behind, Amina halted and squeezed his hand. “Wait - before we go: this was beautiful,” she looked over her shoulder at the candlelit table, now empty. “It was the most thoughtful, heartfelt dinner anyone’s ever arranged for me, and…” she saw some of the urgency leave his face: his brows softened, his jaw relaxed. “Emmrich… I’m… I’m so glad I met you.”
And she stood on her toes and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, bringing her lips to his in a bruising kiss that caused him to rock back half a step, throwing his free hand back to catch himself before they tumbled backwards into a hedge from the momentum.
When he was sure he steadied himself, he leaned forward into the kiss, carding his fingers through her silky hair, returning her enthusiasm with a muffled groan as he licked into her mouth, tasting her lips and her tongue, feeling the smoothness of her teeth and the warm, wet heat of her.
He pulled away, pupils blown wide, cradling her jaw in his hand as he looked down at her, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them both. “And I you, my sweet Amina,” he breathed. “I only regret that it took so long for us to find one another.”
“Oh I fully intend on making up for lost time,” she purred, gently adjusting his treasured collar pin, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Don’t you worry about that.” Her fingers drifted from the pin to his jaw, feeling the realness of him against her flesh. “What I am concerned about is a matter of logistics: where, my handsome suitor, do you propose we enjoy our nightcap?”
Surely he had a bed. She’d never actually asked, but it would be lunacy for him to pack Manfred through the eluvian, back to the Necropolis and up the lift a few dozen levels to his apartment every night… wouldn’t it? There was no way he slept in his armchair or at his desk - not when she’d seen the slow, tentative way he’d unfold from a sitting position sometimes, and heard the brittle cracking of his poor knees as they straightened, worn ligaments and tendons protesting.
She was thirty-six and her knees weren’t in much better condition due to the physical demands of her vocation: she could sympathize, and for that reason, she knew if he didn’t have a bed, he most definitely would have made it everybody’s problem by now.
Oh no, he had a bed, and tonight she was going to learn where in the damned Lighthouse it was, and then she was going to fuck him in it until he couldn’t think straight.
He shouldered the door open, and guided her over the threshold before him, taking care to close the heavy slate doors behind him before turning to her, his eyes glinting. “As it turns out, I do in fact have a bed, darling - did you assume I slept in the laboratory, standing upright like a horse?”
“Of course not: that would be silly.”
“Tremendously,” he concurred, his moustache twitching with a wry smile the instant before he swept one arm around her shoulders, the other behind her knees.
“Hey–!” She warbled out, startled at this new development, and her feet left the ground as he scooped her up, cradling her to his chest, the coats still draped over his forearm.
“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you hobble the entire way back home, did you, dear?”
Home. He’d said home…
Amina knew her face was beetroot as she scrambled for words. “You - you could have just magically healed my feet!” She squirmed halfheartedly in his grip and he snorted in amusement, his breath washing over her face.
“Now where would be the fun in that?” He teased, kissing her nose and setting off down the corridor through the cavernous vault. “But if you find it truly undignified, I’ll gladly set you down and take a moment to tend to your feet...”
She glanced up at him. He was looking ahead to make sure he didn’t trip on anything and send them flying. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw stood out against the dusty tomb light diffused throughout the vault, and he still looked well-pleased with himself as he strode onwards, not struggling at all with the task of hauling her bones around.
“I suppose this isn’t so bad…” She leaned her head close to Emmrich’s neck and nuzzled into the expanse of exposed skin between his collar and his jawline, inhaling deeply, filling herself with the comforting scent of him. “My hero… whatever would I do without you?”
He crooked his neck against her ministrations, her breath tickling him - or arousing him - she was unsure which. “I’m hardly a hero, darling - just a gentlem—“
“Professor Volkarin!”
Oh dear.
She felt Emmrich go rigid under her and he turned to address whomever had called out to him: it was an apprentice mage - a young man, no older than nineteen with a shock of curly red hair and a pointy little beard growing from the very tip of his chin.
His eyes went from Emmrich to Amina, then back to Emmrich, widening the entire time.
“Oh - I - s-sorry Professor, I didn’t know you - uh - I know you’ve been… away… b-but I was w-wondering if you could help me understand a few things about uh… Ley lines and their relation to dowsing and other methods of cyclomancy. You see, I’m running into some difficulty wi–”
“Hamish.” Emmrich’s interjection wasn’t unkind, but there was a firmness in his tone that garnered respect and immediately shut Hamish up. “I have absolute faith that a young man of your intelligence doesn’t require a dowsing rod to divine the truth of the matter, which is that I am presently indisposed–”
Amina buried her face in Emmrich’s shoulder to conceal her grin and stifle the giggle that slipped past her lips.
“— now be on your way and submit your questions to me in writing and I shall respond in due course when time permits. Now: good evening to you.” The farewell was delivered with curt finality that indicated the matter was not up for debate, and Amina peeked up from Emmrich’s shoulder to see Hamish soundlessly opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to come to terms with the abject horror of accidentally interrupting his professor during what was obviously a romantic evening.
“Y-yes - of course! Good - good evening to you, Professor…” he bowed jerkily to Emmrich. “Lady.” He tipped his head further down and then turned and fled so quickly Amina thought he Fade-stepped away. Perhaps he had.
When she trusted the lad was out of earshot, Amina laughed properly, curling her fingers into the worn but lovingly kept material of Emmrich’s waistcoat. “I think poor Hamish thinks he’s ruined your chances with me and destroyed his career because of it.”
“Hmm…” Emmrich mused. “I suppose that depends: did young Hamish spoil the evening with his uncouth interruption?”
“Not even close.” She licked his neck - planted a wet, sucking kiss on the hot flesh there.
“Then he has nothing to fear,” he declared, tilting his head down and claiming Amina’s lips in one more deep kiss before setting off again towards the eluvian.
Towards home.
#emmrook#emmrich x rook#emmrich x ingellvar#emmrich x amina ingellvar#emmrich x female rook#emmrich romance#emmrich smut#emmrich volkarin#emmrich#dragon age emmrich#dragon age#datv#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age fic#dragon age fan fic#veilguard#veilguard fanfic#v writes#this is an emmrich thirst post#this is arguably an amina thirst post too#ao3#archive of our own#nevarra#mourn watch
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Excerpt from this Rolling Stone story:
A series of powerful wildfires has turned large swaths of Los Angeles into smoldering ruins. As first responders attempt to control the blazes, heavy winds are quite literally fanning the flames — to the point that the fires have now been ravaging the city for days. There is a clear link between climate change and the severity of recent wildfires. Climate-denying conservatives are instead blaming the devastation on California’s “woke” politics.
“DEI means people DIE,” Elon Musk wrote Wednesday on X in response to a video of Los Angeles Fire Chief Kristin Crowley discussing how she wants to diversify the department.
Musk also responded “True” to a post from conspiracy theorist Alex Jones about the fires being “part of a larger globalist plot to wage economic warfare and deindustrialize the United States before triggering total collapse” — and then later deleted his response.
Musk has not deleted his promotion of several other posts blaming the destruction on diversity initiatives. “Los Angeles deliberately set out to exclude white men from becoming firefighters, and now they don’t have enough firefighters to prevent their city from burning to the ground,” wrote right-wing commentator Matt Walsh in one post endorsed by Musk. “DEI is a cancer that destroys everything it touches.”
Former Fox News host Megyn Kelly accused Fire Chief Crowley and Mayor Karen Bass of prioritizing “DEI” over the city’s fire management capabilities. “In recent years, L.A.’s fire chief has made not filling the fire hydrants top priority, but diversity,” Kelly raged on Wednesday. “Who gives a shit if the fire chief is gay. I’m sorry, but who gives a flying fig about who she likes to sleep with, can you fight the fucking fires, madam? That’s the relevant question.”
There’s no evidence that the fire department’s push for diversity has any affect on its ability to fight fires. It’s also not true that Bass cut the department’s budget by $23 million, another claim that has spread throughout right-wing media.
Conservatives have also been pushing the false idea California Gov. Gavin Newsom’s water policies have prevented the city’s ability to fight the fires. Trump has long been bashing Newsom over the policies, and has blamed him directly for the fires this week. “One of the best and most beautiful parts of the United States of America is burning down to the ground,” the president-elect wrote today. “It’s ashes, and Gavin Newscum should resign. This is all his fault!!!”
On Fox News, host Jesse Watters decided to blame Native Americans for the devastation, as well, claiming that Newsom has “been tearing down dams” because “Indians wanted some of the river back so they could catch salmon. Gavin didn’t just knock down one dam for the Indians, he knocked down all four.”
“And these dams were a go-to source for firefighters to pull water from to fight fires up north. Gavin’s literally tearing down Western civilization for fish and Indians,” Watters said, repeating the claim in another segment aired on Wednesday.
The fires currently destroying Los Angeles — as well as the fires that have increasingly been devastating the West Coast in recent years — are the result of hot, dry conditions caused by climate change. These conditions are inevitably going to lead to natural disasters that are going to overwhelm any infrastructure, regardless of the race and gender of the people running it. It’s an inconvenient truth for conservatives, who would rather point their fingers at minorities than acknowledge the reality of the climate crisis.
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I noticed you said that you're into both LU and LOTR... have you considered how those characters might interact? 👀 /curious /nf
- hero-of-the-wolf
Ooooo, ok ok actually yes i have!! Someone also requested a drawing of the Chain as the Fellowship so that may or may not be coming soon also! ;)
Anyway, in terms of how they would interact, hm. I think that each Link would kinda latch onto a member of the Fellowship that they most resemble, and kinda stick to them, but i think both groups would be chummy, and i mean, the pure defensive and offensive power of the Chain and the Fellowship combined would be immense.
In terms of similarities, here's kinda how i think of it:
Gandalf and Time: both are leaders, both are ridiculously powerful but don't use all their powers, both are kind, cryptic, and self-sacrificial, and have a soft spot for the little ones
Aragorn and Twilight: horse girls, but also natural born leaders, kinda mysterious, VERY protective, strong warriors, and extremely noble. Also they were both raised by a different people group (aragorn was half-human half-elf, raised by elves, twilight is hylian, raised by ordonians)
Boromir and Warriors: yeah so... this one is kinda just vibes. idek why, but would Warriors take three arrows or more to save one of his brothers? Absolutely. Also, Boromir is a Captain (Captain of the White Tower) and Wars is too, so they would relate on many levels there about taking armies to war and what not. Also... yeah... sorry Wars, of all the ppl to try to steal the ring it would be you. So sorry. And then he'd feel horrible about it and probably cry.
Legolas and Wild: long-eared archers with long, blonde hair. nothing more needs to be said here.
Gimli and Four: ok, hear me out on this one. Four is a blacksmith. He would have SO much respect for dwarves in their weapons and in their smithing skills in mining and making armor. He would probably just see shorter guy with a beard and latch on immediately because of his grandfather too. And both are a little embarrassed about being short and would NEVER want to be tossed unless absolutely necessary. Gimli would also be very impressed by Four's skills and have a lot to teach him too!
Sam and Sky: also vibes for this one. Sure Wild might be the Cook, but no one is as kind-hearted, loyal, over-protective, and compassionate as Sky and Samwise. Both have special ladies too, and Sky would 100% no hesitation carry one of his brothers up a massive exploding volcano if need be. Both soft, huggable, but not to be underestimated on the battle field.
Frodo and Hyrule: the burdens, my friends. the burdens. Frodo has to carry the cursed ring, Hyrule has to carry his cursed blood (as seen in Adventure of Link). Both are a bit shy, but very brave and loyal (we talkin' book Frodo here) and both have to go through a ton, kinda on their own. they are also both polite and selfless and have pure hearts that help them to resist the evil thrust upon them.
Legend and Merry: the trouble and disasters these two would get into, my goodness gracious. Legend may be a bit prickly around the edges, but he's also a prankster (Entrance), similarly to Merry. However, both of them have good hearts despite how they present themselves as tricksters. They are both loyal brothers who are extremely brave and adventurous.
Pippin and Wind: mostly just personality for this one. fun, childlike energy, brave, and sometimes make rash decisions. but also kind, lighthearted, and loyal. both are the youngest so they both have to deal with over-protectiveness from the other members of their group. they are both also dangerously curious, and likely to get up to mischief if one does not keep an eye on them...
Well, that was a total whirlwind, sorry for ranting!!! but I hope that answered your question!! Thanks so much for your ask, @hero-of-the-wolf!! i hope you are doing well! nice to meet a fellow LU and LOTR fan!! 🩵
#zeldalizzyrambles#accurate tag if i do say so myself#lots of rambling here today lol#guess i can't help myself oh well XD#linkeduniverse#linked universe#asks#lotr#lord of the rings#crossover#both the chain and fellowship are comprised of nine heroes#so there are definitely similarities for sure!!#sorry wild i just couldn't think of any other reasons#lol you do not have to read this all but if you did congrats for making it this far!
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By: Andrew Doyle
Published: Jan 7, 2025
It’s very easy to judge the past, particularly when you’re on the ‘right side of history’. What supreme confidence it must take to assume that all previous generations had got it so wrong, and that humanity was simply waiting for you to turn up and set them straight.
And yet isn’t it curious that so many who like to judge the values and behaviour of people in the past are also rarely willing to turn that critical eye on other cultures that exist today? According to the principle of cultural relativism, all societies and ways of life are equal. So we must not assert that we are morally better to a culture that permits the genital mutilation of children or that denies women an education, but we may assume that we are highly superior to the Ancient Greeks.
This debate has become particularly relevant with the recent explosion of interest in the rape gangs scandal. A report by Professor Alexis Jay in 2022 determined that more than 1,400 young girls were raped and abused in the period between 1997 and 2013 by what became known as the ‘grooming gangs’, so called because of the manipulative tactics that were employed to gain the victims’ trust. These groups comprised mostly of men of Pakistani heritage, which led many authorities to overlook the severity of the crimes.
Consider this example from a speech delivered by Andrew Norfolk, reporter for the Times. When police discovered a 13-year-old girl, drunk and mostly naked in the company of seven Pakistani men, they arrested her and failed to question any of the adults.
Police have admitted that such failures to investigate were largely down to a desire to avoid allegations of racism. The Jay report noted that several members of local council staff ‘described their nervousness about identifying the ethnic origins of perpetrators for fear of being thought as racist; others remembered clear direction from their managers not to do so’. Politicians and media commentators were more concerned with maintaining the fantasy that multiculturalism has been a success, rather than taking seriously their obligation to safeguard children. When Julie Bindel - the first journalist to investigate the grooming gangs - tried to publish her findings, she faced resistance ‘because some editors feared an accusation of racism’.
The Labour government has shown itself incapable of making amends. Jess Phillips has rejected a request for a public inquiry into child sexual exploitation in Oldham. And Keir Starmer has stated that anyone interested in a full-scale inquiry into these failings is jumping ‘on a bandwagon of the far right’.
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This acute form of tone-deafness would, in any sound political climate, be cause for immediate resignation. While it is true that racists will be quick to weaponise the criminal behaviour of a minority, there is nothing remotely ‘far right’ in taking an interest in the wellbeing of children and wishing to see those who abuse them held to account. But Starmer is a banshee of a prime minister; he makes a terrible noise but is completely lacking in substance.
Something may change with the release this week of crime league tables according to nationality. Up until now, there has been tremendous political resistance to releasing such statistics, with police in many European countries not recording such details at all in order to preserve the daydream of multiculturalism. And yet those that do keep such records have revealed a clear trend. Data from the Danish government, for instance, has shown that although non-Western immigrants constitute only 9% of the population, they account for 25% of convictions for violent crime. According to the Telegraph, in Sweden immigrants are ‘three times more likely to be registered as a suspect for assault than the native population – which grows to four times for robbery, and five times for rape’.
And now, in the UK, data from the police forces, the Home Office and the Office for National Statistics has been analysed by the Centre for Migration Control. The results are startling. We now know that foreign nationals are three times more likely to be arrested for sexual offences, and twice as likely for all other crimes. This table from the Home Office shows the top rates of arrests according to nationality (per one thousand of the population).
This presents a challenge to those of us who believe in liberal values. We might factor in relative poverty as contributing to the rates, but this in itself cannot possibly account for the wild disproportionality. Our history of supporting those fleeing from war or oppression is something we should cherish, but at the same time citizenship should be contingent on successful integration. This isn’t to say that immigrants ought to dispense with their own beliefs or practices, but it does mean that they must adapt to the rule of law of the host nation.
We all know that multiculturalism has failed. German Chancellor Angela Merkel said as much back in 2010, before she embarked upon a disastrous policy of unchecked immigration. Too often ‘multiculturalism’ is mistaken for ‘multiethnicity’, when they could not be more different. A multi-ethnic society is one in which people of all races are able to coexist together in peace and cooperation as equal citizens under the law. A multi-cultural society is one in which people are encouraged to ghettoise themselves according to national or cultural identity.
This has been a catastrophe not only for social cohesion but also for individual agency. In 2016, when prime minister David Cameron announced a £20 million fund for English lessons for the 22% of Muslim women in the UK who could not speak the language, he was accused of ‘stigmatising’ a marginalised group. In truth, he was doing the opposite. Women in Islamic communities are disproportionately impacted by the failed multicultural system, because encouraging parallel societies only benefits the most powerful within them. Sharia courts in the UK, for instance, have always favoured men over women, and yet they are allowed to continue.
Cultural relativism has never been defensible. We are right to condemn slavery wherever and whenever it has existed, and we should have the confidence to do so. Likewise, we should be assertive in our view that a culture that treats women and gay people as subhuman is not morally equivalent to one that does not. This is not about asserting ‘supremacy’ of either a racial or religious kind, it’s about treating all human beings in the same way, irrespective of their place of origin or immutable characteristics.
Some cultural values are superior to others, and it should not be controversial to say so. True inclusivity and equality means holding everyone to the same standards. This realisation has come too late to save the victims of the rape gangs scandal, but at least the illusion of multiculturalism as a societal good has finally been dispelled.
==
You don't get to lecture people about "the true facts" when you refuse all calls for a complete inquiry into the scandal, and brand anyone who wants one "far right."
Fuck, you can't even claim to know "the true facts" without an full inquiry.
Starmer has done exactly what created this problem in the first place: brand anyone concerned about the problem as a racist or a bigot, while doing nothing about it.
He'll be out before the end of the month. People will not tolerate this level of gaslighting.
#Andrew Doyle#islam#rape gangs#muslim rape gangs#grooming gangs#muslim grooming gangs#rape gang scandal#islam ruins everything#Keir Starmer#Jess Phillips#cover up#rape apologists#gaslighting#multiculturalism#cultural relativism#mass deportations#violent crime#religion is a mental illness#Youtube
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I’m going to thrice you, again, prompt idea: in Princess AU- the conversation on the beach in Greece if the *right* brother had been there.
I am addicted to alt-versions of my own fic universes. Guess we'll call this one "Found You First" They're younger, so they aren't as good at flirting yet.
~
She hadn't seen Percy in a little over a year. The last time they'd crossed paths, he was holding up Yale's Mock Trial National's first place trophy, while Annabeth fumed about Harvard's meager fifth place, even if she had come out with her own attorney award.
It was hard to hold onto that grudge now, though. When they were on opposite sides of a Mock rivalry (mock as in "trial," the rivalry was very real), he really was handsome, tan with dark hair and very pretty green eyes.
Percy bowed his head towards her, and then held out his hand. It was the first time he'd ever bowed to her. "Lovely to see you again, Princess," he said.
Annabeth took his hand, expecting him to shake it, but he simply kissed it. Annabeth's stomach did a little flip flop, and she was glad she'd agreed to this trip after all.
~
"Riley Winter was obviously the worst one!" Annabeth said. It took all of four minutes alone on the beach for them to start arguing about Mock Trial witnesses.
"Mickey Keenan was way more annoying than him! He was an incompetent cop who obviously entrapped someone," Percy said. "I was so happy when they killed him off for nationals."
"Too bad you lost to Miami that year," Annabeth said.
"Too bad you didn't have the chance to win," Percy said back. Annabeth kicked sand at him.
"Are you in law school?" Annabeth asked.
"Oh, absolutely not. Not cut out for the LSAT, let alone the Bar. I'm doing a masters at Yale," he said, as if that was somehow less impressive than law school.
"Oh? In what?" Annabeth asked.
"Classics. I'm thinking about applying for a Ph.D., but I'm not sure. I'm a bit burnt out at the moment," he said, slumping back in his beach chair for dramatic effect.
Annabeth nodded sympathetically. "Classics is cool, though."
"I'm excited to be in Greece and actually see some of the things I write about," Percy said.
"My dad and I are getting a private tour of the Parthenon this week, if you want to join us," Annabeth offered. "Maybe you could teach us something."
Percy was smiling, really smiling, and excited boyish grin. "Really? Would that be okay?"
Annabeth smiled back. "Sure," she said. She needed to get married, and people were starting to worry she had no real interest in men. Taking Percy, a man she was absolutely interested in, on a trip to the Parthenon might help her in a few different ways.
Percy looked like he was about to say something, but then paused. "Your shoulders are pink," he said. "Want me to get them?"
Annabeth nodded. A nice excuse for some contact.
As Percy rubbed the sunscreen onto her shoulders, chest, and back (both politely trying to ignore how incredibly intimate it was), she asked: "Are you single?" Annabeth couldn't remember seeing any women on his Instagram lately, but maybe he kept those things private.
"I am," Percy said. "I did get out of a relationship a few months ago, though. I'm mostly over it."
"Was it mutual?" She asked.
Percy shrugged. "Hard to say."
"So you got your heart broken?" She deduced.
Percy almost laughed. "A little bit."
"What was her name?"
"Frank," Percy said without hesitation, before looking up and meeting her eyes, assessing her for fear, confusion, or disgust.
Annabeth just nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about that. It sounds like he meant a lot to you."
Percy nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "Yeah," and then he squirted more sunscreen in the other hand, and started on her other shoulder. "I'm not here to use you as a beard, though. I am bisexual, if you ... believe in that sort of thing."
"Be a bit of a raging hypocrisy if I didn't," Annabeth said. Percy's eyes snapped to her face, and she just shrugged and nodded. "I had my own devastating gay break up our senior year. I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital," Annabeth said with a laugh.
"Can I guess who it was?" Percy said, finishing with the sunscreen and sitting back in the sand in front of her. Annabeth stretched a leg out, and Percy started reapply sunscreen to that as well.
"Sure," Annabeth said.
"Tristan McLean's daughter?" He said.
Annabeth laughed. "God, were we that conspicuous?"
"Probably not to straight people," Percy said, "I'm sure to them, you guys looked like very good friends."
~
Before long, it was clear that Annabeth simply could not be in the sun for long without roasting, so Percy suggested they go to the shaded bar up by the resort itself, but still close to the sand. Annabeth had accepted his offer graciously.
Percy covertly texted his cousin while Annabeth used the restroom.
Percy
from your pov, how soon is too soon to kiss the crown princess of a sovereign country
Thals
Well if it's you kissing me, any time would be too soon. if it's the swedish girl. idk go for it if she seems into it
Percy waited a full fifteen minutes after she came back to up the touchy flirting, and Annabeth leaned into it, touching his thigh under the bar and tossing her hair over her (lightly pink) shoulders. Two glasses of wine each later, and their faces were tantalizingly close together.
Annabeth kissed him first in the end, closing the distance between them with a sure and steady kiss that was sophisticated and contained, but did linger.
"So, I guess our rivalry ends here?" Percy suggested.
Annabeth smiled. "Guess so."
~
Thankfully, when her father found her, she was no longer kissing Percy. They'd gone on from their first kiss to their second to their third in record time, before deciding to go somewhere more private.
But it was on their walk to this more private place that they found her dad.
Percy sobered up and remembered his manners right away. Her father hadn't been there for his and hers initial introduction, but Percy carried out the expected protocol flawlessly. Annabeth could have swooned.
"Nice to meet you son. Ambritt, would you like to get dinner?" Her father asked her.
"Oh, sure," Annabeth said, "Percy and I were about to find something to eat ourselves," she said, hoping that didn't read an innuendo, even though it certainly was.
"Ah, well, Percy, you're welcome to join us," her dad offered.
Percy nodded. "I'd be honored, your majesty."
"Oh, please don't bother with all of that, unless you'd like me to start calling you Don Percy," her dad said.
Percy laughed. "Certainly not. But I should change before we go anywhere."
"Me too," Annabeth said.
"Alright, you two head up. I'll make arrangements with Hugo. Do you eat fish?" Her dad asked Percy.
"Sure do," Percy said, before looking at Annabeth, his glance telling her that was also innuendo.
They stepped into the elevator together.
"I forgot your real name was Ambritt," Percy said.
"Sure is. What's 'Percy' in Spanish?" Annabeth asked.
"Perseo, but that's actually one of my middle names. My first name is Pedro," he told her.
"Oh, you are not a Pedro," Annabeth said, taking his hand as the door opened to her floor.
"I agree," he said as she unlocked her hotel room door. "Should I leave you to get ready?"
"In five," she reached between his legs, and her eyes went a bit wide as she realized the size of it, even soft, "maybe ten minutes."
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now I Know this is being overdramatic and petty which is why im posting about it instead of actually saying anything but I wish to fucking god my roommate would stop having ppl over without warning me beforehand.
#j.txt#genuinely cannot think of any instance since last year where she hasnt had someone over for more than 3 days in a row#and for the past couple weeks its been her shitty ex who shes already told me she cut off bc of things he did to her when they were first#dating so like. girl im trying not to judge but What Gives !!!#and it wouldnt even be nearly as much of a problem if they werent constantly in the kitchen or living room. ik its me being neurotic#and antisocial but I Hate fixing my meals with people around like if im cooking for/with someone thats different but otherwise it bothers m#so fucking bad. idc if ur back together with him yall just go to your side of the space please!!!!!!!#theyre never even doing anything that would necessitate being in the common areas like she has her own tv in her room that they watch so in#living room they just sit there on their phones. and I'm trying so hard to be polite abt it#but I dont want that man in my goddamn house for weeks without paying rent like .am I insane or does that truly just not make any sense#just realized I mistyped at beginning of this when I say since last year to clarify I mean since last aug when she moved in#anyways .guess I'll wait until they clear out to go eat which will prob be around four hours if precedent serves .🙃#vent#delete later
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I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)
aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao
(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)
#myrna is actually really proud of him for pushing through and becoming a very fine member of the mourn watch#(and a good man)#but she is also. well. myrna. so she has never expressed as much to him. (she thought it went without saying. it did not!)#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#oc: Ellaryen Ingellvar#neve gallus#considering how satisfying the Arc with davrin has been I hope this can liven up neve and rye's interactions for me!#also very interesting and fitting b/c davrin will come for you where you live and go 'and hey btw ANOTHER THING --' no bullshit#which rye finds SO annoying but is probably why their relationship has grown so deep so quickly b/c davrin won't let him avoid him#while neve is ironically a lot more like him and it means they have a much harder time reaching each other b/c they're both so watchful#and guarded. they vibed so hard in the beginning it was all neve approves all the times b/c they have similar instincts. and now look at us#we live in the same house and politely pretend the other one doesn't exist. we're making ghosts out of each other!!!#explaining why he's semi-avoiding her. he thinks he's being thoughtful in giving her her space but uh. well.#perhaps more flight behaviour in that than he's willing to gaze at directly haha#rye looks at lucanis claiming he's a mess and goes 'oh buddy you should've seen me the first day in a year I was fully sober#and working on that fucking orb with head pounding and eyeliner running. even like this you're one of the tidiest#and most disciplined people I've ever met. you're literally fine.'#the reason the romance is so slow is not even mostly on lucanis I think rye is the slower to truly open up one in that dynamic lol#hey. I love rook. I love him so much. my trying his best underachieving babyboy who killed god when he got it together#I suspect this is going to be a situation where I've planned multiple other playthroughs#that will inevitably be hampered by '...but where is rye tho. I wish rye was here. does anyone else miss rye' lmao#for reference I've finished DA:O at least 4 times. and all four of them was sophia amell doing exactly the same things. I have a Pattern lo#a pattern I have only really broken in da:i where I have three inquisitors I care about sort of equally (adaar is my fave#but I have fondness for them all)#hawke I basically play as always the same person just AUs of him haha. what if he was a mage instead and it was somehow even sadder#that sort of thing
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1535 days to go
#I can’t fucking believe this is happening#the White House the senate and it’s looking like the house as well are all red#what fucking damage are they going to do in four years#I sincerely doubt trump will last that long becuase he’s 78 and not looking too hot but I don’t think Vance is any better#people are less likely to pay attention to what he’s doing#politics
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Excerpt from Wikipedia:
Controversial statements
Le Pen was accused and convicted several times in France and abroad of xenophobia and antisemitism. A Paris court found in February 2005 that his verbal criticisms, such as remarks disparaging Muslims in a 2003 Le Monde interview, were "inciting racial hatred", and he was fined €10,000 and ordered to pay an additional €5,000 in damages to the Ligue des droits de l'homme (League for Human Rights). The conviction and fines were upheld by the Court of Cassation in 2006.
In May 1987, he advocated the forced isolation from society of all people infected with HIV, by placing them in a special "sidatorium". "Sidaïque" is Le Pen's pejorative solecism for "person infected with AIDS" (the more usual French term is "séropositif" (seropositive)) The term "sidatorium" was coined by François Bachelot.
On 21 June 1995, he attacked singer Patrick Bruel, who is of Algerian Jewish descent, on his policy of no longer singing in the city of Toulon because the city had just elected a mayor from the National Front. Le Pen said, "the city of Toulon will then have to get along without the vocalisations of singer Benguigui". Benguigui, an Algerian name, is Bruel's birth name.
In February 1997, Le Pen accused Chirac of being "on the payroll of Jewish organizations, and particularly of the B'nai B'rith"
Le Pen once made the infamous pun "Durafour-crématoire" ("four crématoire" meaning "crematory oven") about then-minister Michel Durafour, who had said in public a few days before, "One must exterminate the National Front".
On many occasions, before and after the FIFA World Cup, he claimed that the French World Cup squad contained too many non-white players, and was not an accurate reflection of French society. He went on to scold players for not singing La Marseillaise, saying they were not "French".
In the 2007 election campaign, he referred to fellow-candidate Nicolas Sarkozy, who is of partial Greek Jewish and Hungarian descent, as "foreign" or "the foreigner."
In a 2014 video on the National Front's website, Le Pen reacted to criticism of him by Jewish singer Patrick Bruel with "next time we'll do a whole oven batch!" Le Pen later claimed the comments he made had no anti-Semitic connotations "except for my political enemies or imbeciles".
Arguing that his party includes people of various ethnic or religious origins like Jean-Pierre Cohen, Farid Smahi or Huguette Fatna, he attributed some anti-Semitism in France to the effects of Muslim immigration to Europe, and suggested that some part of the Jewish community in France might eventually come to appreciate National Front ideology.[citation needed] Le Pen denied man-made climate change and linked climate science with communism.
He also infamously compared gay people to soup with salt, saying "it's like salt with soup: if there is not enough, it's too bland, and if it's too much, it's undrinkable", and compared pedophilia with "the exaltation of homosexuality".
Prosecution concerning Holocaust denial
Le Pen made several provocative statements concerning the Holocaust, which were legally ruled to be Holocaust denial. He was convicted of racism or inciting racial hatred at least six times. Thus, on 13 September 1987, he said, "I ask myself several questions. I'm not saying the gas chambers didn't exist. I haven't seen them myself. I haven't particularly studied the question. But I believe it's just a detail in the history of World War II." For Le Pen, the French deportation of 76,000 Jews from France to Nazi concentration camps, where they were killed, is a trivial matter, and he denies that 6 million Jews were killed, saying "I don't think there were that many deaths. There weren't 6 million ... There weren't mass murders as it's been said." He was eventually condemned under the Gayssot Act to pay 1.2 million francs (€183,200).
In 1997, the European Parliament, of which Le Pen was then a member, removed his parliamentary immunity so that Le Pen could be tried by a German court for comments he made at a December 1996 press conference before the German Republikaner party. Echoing his 1987 remarks in France, Le Pen stated: "If you take a 1,000-page book on World War II, the concentration camps take up only two pages and the gas chambers 10 to 15 lines. This is what one calls a detail." In June 1999, a Munich court found this statement to be "minimizing the Holocaust, which caused the deaths of six million Jews," and convicted and fined Le Pen for his remarks. Le Pen retorted sarcastically: "I understand now that it's the Second World War which is a detail of the history of the gas chambers."
Other legal problems and allegations
Prosecution for assault: In April 2000, Le Pen was suspended from the European Parliament following prosecution for the physical assault of Socialist candidate Annette Peulvast-Bergeal during the 1997 general election. This ultimately led to him losing his seat in the parliament in 2003. The Versailles appeals court banned him from seeking office for one year.
Statements about Muslims in France: In 2005 and 2008, Le Pen was fined, in both cases €10,000 for "incitement to discrimination, hatred and violence towards a group of people", on account of statements made about Muslims in France. In 2010. The European Court of Human Rights declared Le Pen's application inadmissible.
Allegations of war crimes in Algeria: Le Pen allegedly practiced torture during the Algerian War (1954–1962), when he was an Army lieutenant. He denied it and won some trials. But he lost a trial when he attacked Le Monde newspaper on charges of defamation, following accusations by the newspaper that he had used torture. Le Monde produced in May 2003 the dagger he allegedly used to commit war crimes as court evidence. Although war crimes committed during the Algerian War are amnestied in France, this was publicised by the newspapers Le Canard Enchaîné, Libération, and Le Monde, and by former prime minister Michel Rocard on TV (TF1 1993). Le Pen sued the papers and Rocard. This affair ended in 2000 when the Cour de cassation (French supreme jurisdiction) concluded that it was legitimate to publish these assertions. In 1995, Le Pen unsuccessfully sued Jean Dufour, regional councillor of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur (French Communist Party) for the same reason.
Allegations of misusing EU funds: In December 2023, Le Pen was among 28 people, including his daughter Marine, charged with misusing EU funds meant for European Parliament assistants by instead using them to pay National Rally officials.
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Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die
#i cant even shes just so dangerously stupid#she thinks energy drinks with natural caffeine are safe to give people who have been told by doctor doing take caffeine with thia meds#ahe thinks of a child is CHOCKING to lie them face down n rub their back#she has the evangelical woman voice worse then women I've met n that cult ahe giggles constantly and behaves like the stereotype lil german#boy just got a lollipop over.... everyone and everything whe acts likw an 11 year old I just got the first boyfriend and all they could talk#is how perfect their boyfriend is and they're so pretty good for that I pulled a boyfriend is and it's like a God thing that they met how#SOOOOOOOOOO in love while constantly nonstop touching ahe has to be touching him her hand on his thigh her atm linked with his her heaf on#his chest she has to be in her lap they make out all over the place IT'S DISGUSTING AND EMBARRASSING STOP SWAPPING SPIT#she started a i. hwr words 'love diary of their love journey' they hadn't been dateing 2 months her kids are spoiled fake Instagram bitches#with such shitty views on politics SHE'S A TRUMP FAN GIRL SHENLOVES TRUMP MY DAD BROUGHT IN A TRUMPIE#there's so much i cant even say because even admitting it on tumblr is too embarrassing i wanted.to.likw her i liked her the first day but#THE MORE I GET TO KNOW GET THE MORE N MORE N MISS RED FKAGS#she threw away all my siblings clothes school books toys uniforms for sports their in toys i bought them that week make up jewelry#in the disguise of helping clean house#while i was at the hospital the kids call me in tears i call her beg her to wait and nope.ahe didn't i found the bags by the curb i brought#my dad sided with hwr because 'she didn't mean any harm she didn't know sje was throwing them away'#my mom hasn't bsen dead a year he started dating right after ahe died#hes talking about marrying this woman this woman who has never had an honest educated thought once in her life#WHO ASLO SPEMDA MONEY LIKE A DRUNKEN SAILOR AHE CAME FROM A WITCH FAMILY HER LAST TWO HUSBANDA WERE TOUCH SHE HAS NO KNOWLEDGE OF THE COMMON#SHE SPENDS LIKE SHE STILL HAS MONEY WHEN SHE DOSE NOT AND IT'S LIKE YOU DID NOT JUST SPEND OVER 180 DOLLARS N PASTRIES GOD#SHES SO FUCKIN STUPID AND EVERY HOLIDAY SINCE MY MOM DIED WVERY FAMILY GWT TOGETHER BECAUSE WE DON'T TALK OR.DO ANYTHING WITH MOM'S SIDE#OF THE FAMILY ANYMORE SHE'S THERE EVERY WINGLE MOTHER FUCKIN WEEKEND SHES HERE I'M EXHAUSTED SHES PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY DRAINING TO BE ARO#OUND SHES LIKE IF SOMEONE TOOK A GOLDEN RETRIEVER ON A DIET OF JUST FUCKIN COCAINE LITTLE GERMAN BOY WITH LOLLY AND CRUELLA DEVILLE AND FUSE#THEN TOOK A STRAW AND DRANK ALL THE SMARTS OUT OF THAT BEING#UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGH MY DADS GOIN TO NARRY RHIA BITCH SHES GOIN TO TRY TO BE A MOTHER TO ME AND MY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE GOIN TO#be so fucked up because her kids are not ok SHE FUCKED THEM OVER BAD SHE HAS FOUR KIDS ALL ADULTS THEY'RE JUST WOW#I HATE MY LIFE I HATE WHAY FUTURE MY FAMILY IS GOIN TO BE THE GOOD THINGS IS I WON'T HAVE TO STAY I CAN GO N MAKE A NEW ONE WITH MY WIFE#FOR ME BUT MY SIBLINGS ARE FUCKED AND ANYTIME I WANT TO VISIT MY FAMILY YANDERE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BITCH WILL BE THERE WORMING HWR WAY IN#SHES CONSTANTLY CALLING N TEXTING MY DAD NONSTOP OF SHE'S NOT NEXT TO HIM AND IF HE CAN'T RESPOND INSTANT SHE FREAKS OUT N BUGS ME
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I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂
#welcome to another Mick Airs Out Their Grievances and by god is it a VERY long one#prob best if u don't expand the tags#am I being maybe a bit meaner about this than I would be for any other movie? maybe but pac rim is one of my favorite movies of all time#so I think I get a pass on this one.#one of the groups on campus is hosting movie nights & I went to this one bc I've only ever watched pac rim on my laptop and wanted to watch#it on a larger screen. yay yippee I love this movie!#there r maybe 10-ish of us in this room and a three person friend group is sitting on the couch one of whom has seen the movie and two who#have not. okay so far so normal.#and then the movie starts and they won't! stop! fucking! commentating! the whole fucking movie!!! I don't have a problem with doing that#when I'm in just my friend group because I know that I can tell my friend to stop talking or pause the movie or whatnot but not when I'm in#a large group w people I'm not good friends with ffs#and the comments aren't even funny or anything they're all oh this is JUST like in iron widow!! oh they're SO gay and autistic!!! and#they're talking so loud about this that it completely drowns out the movie audio which has already been turned up a few times#like. be considerate!! some of us want to yknow actually listen to what's going on and not whatever bullshit you're saying#I nearly walked out three or four times before I actually wound up doing so#I may have been a bit of a bitch at the end but I don't care. I got up to leave because this was not an enjoyable environment and one of#them offered to turn the movie down if it was too loud. this caught me a bit off guard since I expected them to still be so wrapped up in#their convo and. well. I may have said 'it's not the movie that's too loud' before closing the door#this also reminds me a lot about my issues with online shipping culture and it bleeding through into how we interact with media irl#this is probably heavily influenced by my aromanticism but I'm so sick of people constantly reading romantic relationships into everything#AND placing more importance on those relationships than any other form. I don't mind romance in media. I think if done right it has great#emotional impact on a story but when a movie is running and when other people who may not want to hear it are in the room watching it too#is not the time to be loudly saying 'he's autistic!' 'they're in love!' 'she has a crush on him!'#I have my own interpretations of the movie some of which agree with what they said and some of which don't but that's beside the point of#knowing how to coexist politely in public#anyway. I think they were awful and annoying and they ruined my night out.#I think I'm just so incredibly mad about this because I love the movie and I was looking forward to watching it in a group of people who#found it cool as well while still having some modicum of politeness#I almost wish I had been meaner but that's the extreme annoyance talking I think#hater hour over love u guys bye
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... (absolutely useless rant in tags)
#okay im gonna rant in the tags about us politics for a sec#and remember i am just a person and my info may be flawed and i am almost definitely biased with my use of it#but ive been seeing a lot of 'trump is so much worse i dont think you remember how bad trump was' going around#as like a tactic for voting for biden#as if people considering not voting for biden are doing it for like frivolous reasons#hes funding a genocide!#thats not a funny little flaw or something to ride out#i am by no means saying vote for trump and i will say that i voted for biden last election specifically to get trump out#the people considering not voting for biden are not just doing it because because they dont agree with him completely#they are doing it specifically because of his active and meaningful policies that go against their morals and ethics#even if we take palestine out of it (which we shouldnt but for arguments sake)#hes delivered on almost zero of his promises!#like he promised to change a bunch of shit if elected and he hasnt really done anything#in fact we are in the same or worse condition nationally than we were four years ago#the difference is that democrats feel comfortable because theres a democrat in office#anyway#i think you should all vote uncommitted in your primaries#and no matter what vote when it comes to the national election for whoever you feel with do right for yourself#and your morals and ethics and whatever#k mumbles
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Damn this fandom is split on this one. Apparently the only thing fuckers can agree on is that this is not a case of Servantis implanting false memories. Which is a shame because I do think that's the funniest option in the poll.
But I digress, we move on to the breakdown.
Only one person thinks that it didn't actually happen until Ben fucked things up, which i suppose would be a fitting punishment for Argit's part in the whole destruction of the universe thing. But that's only half the people who think that it used to have happened, but Ben- presumably accidentally- absolved him of the crime when he remade everything.
Two people think Argit sold his mom for reasons that either aren't listed in the poll or are just very complicated.
Two people think he didn't sell his mom and instead lied about it for reasons that aren't in the poll or are just very complicated.
And another two believe that either something entirely different happened that isn't in the poll (I tried to be thorough but there's only so much I can do) or the whole thing is a complicated mess that doesn't fall into one category!
And all those three make sense. Selling your mom, or in the case of the latter just Argit's backstory in general, is probably a very complicated situation. There's probably a lot going on.
Meanwhile, three people voted for Argit having lied about selling his mom due to trauma. Which, yeah, we've seen the guy, would not be surprising to learn that there's some shit going that deep. I've seen at least one person elsewhere mention the idea that he lied about it as a way of dealing with being sold by her, which... Would be an option.
Then four people voted for Argit having sold his mom because he's an asshole which, yeah, we've seen the guy. He's an asshole. And it's probably what was intended by canon.
And another four voted that he sold his mom out of desperation, which would make a hell of a fucking story. You don't see too many things with kids getting desperate and selling their parents, normally it's the other way around.
And then, a fucking tie for first place, because of course it is I've seen this fandom with polls.
In Corner A, five people stand for the idea that Argit sold his mom out of a desire for vengeance. They looked at this guy, who lets be real has a lot of shit going on so I don't think any of us would be surprised if he had a crap upbringing, and went 'I bet his mom was so shit he sold her out of a sense of 'fuck you and the horse you rode in on''. Which, valid.
In Corner B, five people hold that it didn't happen, and instead that Argit lied vehemently about it to bolster his ego and standing. Which again, valid, we've all met him. I mean come on, he went into politics of all things, what can we put passed a corrupt politician? Nothing. Again, completely valid take.
So our opinions are spread out, but what does that mean for the baseline concept? Where does the fandom fall on whether or not this guy sold his mom?
If we include the 'Ben changed shit' options, working with the original state of things, and leaving out the 'it's complicated'- 56.7% believe Argit sold his mom, while 36.7% believe he didn't.
If we leave out the 'Ben changed shit' options alongside the 'it's complicated'- 50% believe Argit sold his mom, while 33.3% believe he didn't.
Out of those who think Argit sold his mom and gave specific reasons-
33.3% believe he did so out of some sort of vengeance
26.6% believe he did so because he's an asshole
Another 26.6% believe he did so out of desperation
13.3% believe he did so for some other or more complicated reasons
Out of those who think Argit didn't sell his mom and gave specific reasons-
50% believe he claimed to to bolster his ego and/or standing
30% believe he claimed to as a way of dealing with trauma
20% believe he claimed to for some other or more complicated reason
Overall, when it comes to reasons for Argit's action, whatever they are-
36-56% believe his reasons were likely tied to poor morals (depending on how one classes 'act of vengeance')
48% believe his reasons were likely tied to a tragic backstory (including 'act of vengeance' because, well, you gotta have something to be vengeful about)
16% believe his reasons weren't listed in the poll or were likely complicated
So, there you have it folks. The numbers for our fandom, such as they are. A small majority of us seem to think he sold his mom, and roundabouts half believe that whether he did or not there's probably tragedy behind it. But even then, it's all rather close.
That's fandom for you.
Said I'd do this eventually, get some opinions from the fandom...
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