#from the empire and everything it represents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whereserpentswalk · 17 hours

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There's an orc attending your college. Your city is pretty diverse, there's a lot of human cultures represented there, and even harpies and dwarves are common. But an orc is still a really rare sight. And she's not assimilated at all, she wears the symbol of the dark lord around her neak, and the strange black cloths from the wastelands she came from, and she always seems to have a gun somewhere on her. It's strange just to see an orc in person, she's not like the green skinned monsters you see in movies, her eyes are pitch black, and her skin is so pale you can see veins, she's muscular and tell but also strangely skinny, and her teeth are sharp and spiked like a sharks, this one doesn't have tusks, just these rows of serrated teeth.

Everyone avoids her at first. There's something creepy about her. She doesn't move like a human. She emotes weirdly, being stoic during conversations, but sometimes smiling or laughing at odd times. In class it becomes clear that she lacks knowledge anyone growing up in your society has, but has extensive knowledge on things most humans will never know. She also very clearly supports the dark lord and the demons who serve him, and gets mad when his narrative of conquest and strict genetic hierarchy is challenged in class.

You end up paired with her for a class project. It's weirdly awkward. But you end up spending more time with her then most. It still takes awhile to get used to her mannerisms, and you have to convince her of evolution in a long debate (but eventually you do convince her). She seems strangely naive to a lot of things. Every time she does something that she considers a failure she goes into self loathing, and she gets really afraid she's going to be punished. You have to explain to her things are going to be ok sometimes.

You try to spend time with her. She supports the dark lord but out of a strange sense of fear more than the type of ideological support humans in nations not under his control have. When she does something that she thinks is heresy agaisnt him she becomes afraid. And while she's angry at people who follow gods other than him (which is basically everyone here) she's more afraid of them than everything. When a holy symbol you own touches her she's surprised it doesn't burn her, you have to tell her it's ok.

She has a lot more freedom here than she did back in the wastelands. You slowly help her realize she doesn't have to worry about being punished for sinning agasint the dark lord. She's able to go on the internet for the first time, you help her get everything set up. You also introduce her to your freinds, only some of whom feel safe around her, but those who do seem to like her.

It's weird just hanging out in her dorm. She can be weirdly laid back and introspective at times, at least when she's not nervous or paranoid. But when she's just relaxing she'll tell you about things, about the beauty of the desert sands, about what it was like to observe the rattlesnakes and condors and wyverns of her homeland. How she likes to observe the city, the way the diffrent people flow through it, she was scared of it at first but now she likes to explore it, and the way it lacks stars at night but the lights from the buildings replace it. She says she wishes she could stay here forever, that she wishes she could be an artist but that she was sent here to learn skills useful to the dark lord's empire.

There's something nice about showing her new things. You get to take her to a musical for the first time. Get to show her neighborhoods you like. Get to explain to her what public transport is (though she got scared feeling trapped in a subway car). You get to show her stuff she never got to experience because orcs are never really children, she loves getting to hold a plush for the first time, or watching cartoons for the first time, it's like she's finally getting to live an experience she never had. Even though she's a well armed adult she really likes plushies once she finds out about them, they weren't something she was allowed to have back home.

Over time she starts meeting people and learning things that go against her worldview. As she makes more friends, understands new things, slowly learns that she shouldn't be punished for mistakes, she slowly comes around to seeing how fucked up the world the was raised in is. She tells you she doesn't want to worship the dark lord anymore, she cries just from saying it. You hug her, and realize she's never been hugged before, she seems to really like that feeling. She bathes in the waters of a healing goddess, and she worships something out of love instead of fear for the first time.

Eventually the spawning warlock who spawned her and her siblings comes to visit her. You told her to be careful but she ended up spilling that she doesn't worship the dark lord, she ends up spilling all the things a warlock like that considers a sin. When he leaves she tells you she can't go home. Not ever. Never again will she see the shifting sands, or flying condor, or flowing serpents of her homelands. She's trapped where she is now.

You know it hurts her a lot. She says she feels like she's in a small pocket of safety. Back home she'd be hurt for being an apostate. In human lands outside of the city she'd be hurt for being an orc. But she's safe here. She stays in her apartment for awhile, while you try to make things work. She's finally changing her major to art, and despite everything she's finally free, free to watch the starless sky, free to not be punished when she makes a mistake...

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avisisisis · 2 months

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"You think you can take whatever you want. Things you didn’t make, didn’t earn, things you don’t understand." The story of an indigenous boy fighting against a colonizer to get his home back. A teenager telling the man who is destroying his world that because it is so much more complex and important than what he sees, he will never get to have it.

Ezra's story is about connection, with all living beings: loth cats and wolves, purrgils, people, etc. And it ends with nature reclaiming what has always been its from the machine that is the Empire. It ends with the people getting their home back from the people who occupied it

And here's the thing: Ezra doesn't know a galaxy without the influence of the Empire. The history of the Old Republic, the tales of the Jedi, they're all fairytales to him. Yet he still fights for it; he fights for something he hasn't yet seen, fights for what's right, for his people and his family. He fights for freedom even if he doesn't know what it feels like

And it's this determination, this endless hope, that drives others to do the same as him. He, with only his words, is able to make things different. It challenges the whole "I'm just one person, I won't change anything" belief. Because Ezra is just one person, and one person can't do much on their own; the war is lost if it's only you fighting it

But Ezra frees Lothal. Ezra banishes Thrawn. Ezra inspires others to fight back. Ezra's sacrifice was not meaningless, and it will always be remembered. He will always be remembered

#rebels is about so many people going “i'm only one person. but even if i'm just one i can still make a change. i can help”#the rebellion is full of people that believe that even if they're outnumbered they can still spread their message: they can still be free #from the empire and everything it represents #they believe that the fight is not over. that as long as theres hope someone will continue to believe in freedom #and they're right #oh they are so right #“i'm just one person. i can't do anything to help” even one person can make a difference #you can do it. it's not just you; we're all with you #star wars #star wars rebels #swr #sw rebels #sw meta #star wars meta #ezra bridger #lothal #grand admiral thrawn #avis' post

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the-everqueen · 2 months

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swan thought i have permission to paraphrase/post: dreamling as a ship posits that the only thing that eludes hob, the embodiment of britishness and all that entails, who has an unquenchable hunger for life and all the time in the world to claim it (an empire the sun can never set on, because it cannot/will not die), is the heart of his stranger - the personification of the collective subconscious. empire can devour the world but it can never colonize the dreams of every person! except that the larger fandom's insistence on him as the universal human implies what if it could. and this is not explored as or considered to be a horror.

#whiteness is always afforded the language of the human #like! what are the implications of one particular nation/state/empire having access to all the power of the collective unconscious #once more i'm reminded of the dreamling fics that used lyrics from hozier's ''eat your young'' as like. romantic.#which is WILD that song is about how capitalism eats EVERYTHING including the future #it is NOT romantic it's HORRIFYING that's the POINT #once again not putting this in the character tag i'm not trying to start fights i'm just #the NARRATIVE FUNCTION of hob matters in that every character's narrative function in sandman matters #bc DREAM is a narrative function who is also a person #so what is it doing in a broader sociocultural or even fandom ecosystem sense #if you posit that hob represents EVERYONE

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butterballbuttnakey · 2 years

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Not to sound like a doomsday enthusiast or anything.....

But Yellowstone flooding when there's an overdue-for-a-people-ending-eruption caldera LITERALLY RIGHT THERE.....

It doesn't sit well in my spirit 🥲

#and the US is entering its pluto return until like mid-july.....#although the pluto return is dealing with the crash & reset of our financial systems #for the non-astrology girlies: pluto is the planet furthest from the sun & therefore its rotation is the slowest #a 'return' is when a planet returns to the same point in the sky as it was when something was started/born #so for example; our birthdays are our solar return bc the sun is in the same spot it was when we were born #pluto represents death & transformation among other things #pluto return has also been linked to the fall of the ottoman & roman empires i beleive #basically its the burning down of one thing so something else (hopefully better) can rise from it's ashes #so our financial systems are gonna go to shit and then start to bounce back in late 2023 to 2024 when pluto moves into the next sign #which i believe is aquarius #basically (i think) the bubble is gonna pop. the price of everything is gonna plummet because the value of the dollar will plummet #a lot of people think that digital currency (NOT CRYPTO) will be the new norm moving forward #i also think that housing & aparment prices are gonna crash which will benefit the masses who are looking to move #yall will be getting A LOT of house/apartment for you buck #which I'm definitely looking forward to bc I'm trying to move and the apartment i want is 3k rn #when in The Before Times it would go for less than 2k #gas prices should plummet as well🤞🏾#basically its about to get real rough but once the storm passes.... we should be fkne #fine*

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temporarytemporal · 2 months

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cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

#dsmp #ctommy #ctubbo #tempo art

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owenthetokencishet · 5 days

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Warhammer 40,000 as a universe is trying to do the impossible.

Warhammer 40,000 is, broadly, a grim satire of fascism. It takes the fascist's worldview, all the xenophobia, conspiracism, hypernationalism, and militarism, and amplifies it to a galactically ridiculous scale.

"The Imperium of Man has ruled for 10,000 years, warring endlessly against heretics, traitors, aberrant humans, and aliens galore, all of whom are so wildly different from humanity that peaceful coexistence will simply never be possible. The only emotion stronger than our hatred of them is their hatred of us. So, we war. We war and war and battle and slaughter until the end of days. We throw our sacred human form, untainted by mutation or the hideous sciences of our ancestors, against the barbarian hordes by the millions, most of us dying in the process. We revere and worship the warriors elevated by the hand of our divine god-emperor, the apotheosis of our glorious, eternal state. These warriors, reborn in the Emperor's image with His sacred eugenics, to become the ultimate fighting men. And yes, they are all men. We are never safe, while we must constantly be defending our borders from our enemies, we must also be ever-vigilant within. Anybody, from our comrades on the front lines to our commanders, tech-priests, preachers, or politicians, could be a traitor. Nobody can ever TRULY be trusted, and those who truly are heretics, must not only be destroyed, but erased. They, and all memory of them must be eradicated. One heretic can sign the death warrant of his entire world, and sometimes, for the preservation of the human race, billions must die."

Warhammer 40k presents a world where all of this(asterisk) is true (VERY BIG ASTERISK)

Through this lens, a lot of the more... questionable aspects make sense.

T'au Empire Mind Control: The T'au are how fascists view liberals. They CANNOT understand that an integrated, multicultural society could ever POSSIBLY work. They cannot FATHOM that different communities can just... agree to work together, it HAS TO BE the woke mind virus. "Can you believe these fucking idiots tried to NEGOTIATE with TYRANIDS???? These fucking losers tried to make PEACE WITH ANOTHER RACE??? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT"

Why the chaos gods are what they are: The followers of chaos represent everyone of the 'ingroup' the fascist hates. Because nothing, not even their sacred ingroup, is sacred to the fascist. The followers of chaos are the germans who resisted, the jewish antizionist, the rebel (Khorne), the intellectual (Tzeentch), the sick and disabled (Nurgle), and the queer (Slaanesh). "There is no reason ANYBODY, ESPECIALLY not those of our sacred ingroup, could object to our glorious genocide. And the runts of the litter must be eliminated to not be a drain on the rest"

And EVEN WITHIN 40k, a lot of this is bullshit.

The T'au mind control thing is provably bullshit because the Farsight Enclaves exist. A whole T'au society that exists free from the apparent mid control of the ethereals

The imperium feeds as much into the chaos gods as the traitors do. A stagnant, decaying empire (Nurgle), with an incomprehensibly vast and byzantine bureaucratic structure (Tzeentch), where a select few live appallingly lush and lavish lives of hedonism and pleasure, completely detached from the people they're supposed to govern (Slaanesh), all for the purpose of making ever more destructive and bloody war with everybody else (Khorne)

There is evidence of peaceful human coexistence with xenos empires during the Dark Age of Technology, including one humanity CREATED, and many inquisitors and rogue traders will GLADLY incorporate xenos into their retinues. Trade and coexistence with aliens DOES still happen in the imperium.

Hell, the parody of fascism is in the very MECHANICS OF THE WHOLE LORE. Fascists don't believe in "facts" or "truth", if they did, they wouldn't be fascists. Therefore, in 40k, "Everything is canon, nothing is true". This allows players to EITHER

Think critically and try to connect the dots to form their best guess as to what "canon" is

Or buy wholly into one side or another's propaganda

And one of those groups is going to find a "truth" they can accept and treat as fact a LOT more quickly than the other.

40k lays out in perfectly plain low gothic, all of the bullshit and hypocrisies of the Imperium. They'll let entire sectors die in the interests of preserving human life. The way the imperial guard are lauded as heroes but treated worse than the lasguns in their hands. The way that in order to become a space marine, one of humanity's great guardian angels, you must have everything that makes you human either beaten out of you or surgically removed. The priests who worship science and technology viewing scientific progress as the most abhorrent of heresies. The divine worship of a man who scoured entire worlds for the crime of worshipping him as a god.

Actually hang on lemme derail the flow of this post and talk more about the emperor. The Emperor is the chief hypocrite in an empire of hypocrites. "I AM NOT A GOD" says the 10-foot-tall gleaming golden immortal psychic god-man, "NOW GO FORTH MY ANGELS ON YOUR GLORIOUS CRUSADE TO BRING SCIENCE AND REASON, and by science and reason I mean doing exactly what I say without question and turning a blind eye to fundamental truths of the universe, TO THIS BENIGHTED GALAXY"

The problem is that parodying fascism is impossible. Fascism is already so inherently, fundamentally ridiculous a worldview, for all the reasons explained above, that distinguishing sincerity from irony is nigh impossible.

If you, an antifascist, read The Turner Diaries, you will probably assume it's satire. The book ends with Earth as an irradiated hellsacpe where few can survive and nothing about its resulting culture is explained. But nope! This is fascist propaganda! It was written by actual neo-nazis who committed actual hate crimes! It is an enthusiastic YAAAAAAAAAY APOCALYPTIC WARFARE!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAY GENOCIDE!!!!!!!! At least all the black people are gone! Hell, when Rogue One came out, Lucasfilm got all sort of shit flung at them for portraying the evil space nazis... as the bad guys... which they always were.

This is why both we, the fandom, and Games Workshop as a company, are DIRECTLY pushing SO HARD against the fascists in the space, and must push harder. 40K IS NOT FOR THEM. And no amount of clever writing or obvious parody will ever convince them otherwise. It does not matter how unfathomably stupid you make fascism look to people with functioning brains, fascists will gobble that shit up. You cannot make fascism look worse than it is, and you cannot make it stupid enough to convince fascists its stupid.

The problem isn't that Games Workshop isn't doing a good enough job writing the imperium as bad (although they aren't), the problem is that it will never be an adequate mockery to make the fascists feel unwelcome. It's not a bad parody of fascism, fascism is just beyond parody.

#warhammer 40k #ramblings. musings even #40k #imperium of man

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sunflower--meadows · 6 months

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OK, as an Indian person and ESPECIALLY as a Scottish person I have to say this.

The current Palestinian Genocide (let's call a spade a spade) and lack of response is an unambiguously, direct result of British Colonialism.

Palestine was given/promised/whatever word you want to use to describe it to Israel by the British Empire to whom it "belonged" as a colony.

Everything that happened thereafter, the Nakba, every invasion, every injustice is a result of that colonial attitude from which Israel was born.

Everywhere the British Empire has been it has sewn chaos and promoted the abuse of human rights as it left. It has happened in India, it happened in Nigeria, South Africa, Cameroon and Australia.

The reason for such a lax UK governmental response is because if they acknowledge what's going on is fucked they have to take responsibility for so much more. By leaving these countries originally the UK has "washed their hands of it."

I want to make this extremely clear.

Britain's hands will NEVER be clean

The British Empire has committed the greatest atrocities known to mankind and the British Government does not want to acknowledge that.

Israel has been built from these imperial attitudes, has repeatedly and continually committed war crimes and human rights abuses and governments just... don't care

It's actually insane and we need to recognise the root of these humanitarian calamities and hold our government accountable.

Write to your MPs, your MSPs, your MSs make your voice heard in whatever way that you can! Your voice may seem weak but it is so incredibly powerful if enough people speak up, if enough people make sure that the government never forgets about these things we can make REAL CHANGE. The link below will allow for you to find your government representative be that N.Ireland Assembly Scottish, Welsh or UK Parliament as well as their emails.

https://www.theyworkforyou.com/

Tell them how horrible things are in Gaza, tell them about Israel's repeated and continuous mistreatment of the Palestinian people, tell them how the UK cannot continue to plug our ears and ignore the fallout of our past. Just say something!

#free palestine #palestine #british empire #uk #scotland #wales #northern ireland #england

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jakethesequel · 1 year

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Welcome back to Tumblr's Poorest Wettest Saddest Littlest Meow Meow Competition! Before we announce the final verdict, let's see how our "lovely" contestants are doing backstage!

VRISKA SERKET, hailing from welcoming Homestuck, is in the blue corner! She's a TROLL, a TELEPATH, and a THIEF. She has also attained GODHOOD, and I'm informed she did nothing wrong! Just off the heels of a dramatic loss in the recent Tumblrwoman Election, she deeply resents being trapped in this narrative device!

Her attire today is plain by Earth standards, but well put-together by ALTERNIAN ones. Nevertheless, she has been known to dress up on occasion, particularly in the colors of her ANCESTOR, the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!

She is extraordinarily determined, and extremely manipulative. She will do anything she can to make herself into the hero her story needs, consequences be damned. Her actions have made her the source of eternal, vitriolic discourse. Some believe her entirely justified, some believe her a heartless villain, and others believe everything in between; every one steadfast and passionate about their specific stance! Love her or hate her: VRISKA!!!!!!!!

HARRIER DU BOIS, also known as HARRY, sometimes referring to himself as RAPHAEL AMBROSIUS COSTEAU or THE REINCARNATION OF KRAS MAZOV, is here representing scenic Disco Elysium! He is a DETECTIVE, an ALCOHOLIC, a recent AMNESIAC, and a WASTE of ENERGY. Having just recently recovered from an attempt at drinking himself to death, we thought inviting him to compete might raise his spirits some! Unfortunately he does not seem to be totally aware of his surroundings, as he has already tried to touch himself twice on air!

His garish and mismatched clothes are STAINED with seemingly every substance a human body can produce. His face is locked in an EXPRESSION that can only induce disgust and discomfort in those who view it.

The few memories he can draw from his fractured mind paint him as violent, selfish, cruel, and pitiful. He has been trying to get over a breakup for six years, and has only partially succeeded through near-total retrograde amnesia. Worst of all, he's still somehow a decently successful cop. He has no friends and few allies on Revachol, with perhaps the sole exception of the impossibly patient and composed Lt. Kim Katsuragi. Even among his fans, you'd be hard pressed to find one who'd defend him, and ever harder pressed to find one willing to stand in the same room as him. Nevertheless, from the safe distance of fiction, let's hear it for HARRY!

In but a few moments, the doors in front of them will open, and they will be able to approach the trophy onto which we have engraved the name of the winner. 5… 4… 3… 2…

AND THE WINNER IS: VRISKAAAAAAAA SERKET!

—

Vriska: WH8T THE FUCK.

Vriska: WHAT THE F8CK!!!!!!!!

Vriska: I WON THIS????????

Vriska: You pieces of shit can't supp8rt me to win ag8inst some lanky rain8bow-drinking 8itch, 8ut 8eat one-in-fuck8ng 16777216 odds to win poorest, wettest, saddest, littlest g8ddamn meow8east?

Logic [Easy:Success]: She won. That means we lost.

Conceptualization [Challenging:Failure]: Another loss in a long, long line of losses.

Pain Threshold: You've gotten used to the feeling by now. Losing something barely even hurts anymore.

Endurance: You still carry each one with you. Well, except…

Volition: Not now. Not yet.

Authority [Medium:Success]: This doesn't have to stay a loss. Stare the girl down. Challenge her. Don't let this be taken from you.

Wait, what *is* she doing, anyway?

Perception: The grey girl seems to be shouting at someone, but there's no one else here.

Vriska: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Inland Empire [Godly:Success]: The unseen audience, the string-pullers of fate. The sadistic writer terrorizing their creation. The storybook itself, the confines it sets. She has seen the death of the author, and needs more.

Empathy [Medium:Failure]: What's got her so upset?

Harry: Is there something wrong with you?

Vriska: I'm not taking that from a walking dumpster, asshole!

Suggestion: There's still time to fix this. Say something nice, quickly.

Harry: I just mean, you seem upset. I thought you'd be celebrating your win. It’s a big accomplishment, right?

Vriska: Are you kidding?

Drama: Are we, sire? Should we be, perhaps?

Vriska: You thought I’d 8e cele8r8ing this? A vote for the most pitia8le, pathetic person in paradox space? I’m not so desper8 to fill my pity quadrant that I need to resort to CROWDFUNDING! That’s like the lowest form of 8egging!

Electrochemistry: You are that desperate. Don’t think we're above begging for it, piggy.

Conceptualization [Easy:Success]: Oh. This was not a contest one wants to win. Maybe our loss was for the best.

Vriska: And I WON!!!!!!!! With this kind of competition, HOW did I get all the votes? All of them!

Reaction Speed [Trivial:Success]: "This kind of competition?" She’s talking about you! Say something!

Harry: It was a tight race. You fought with honor.

Vriska: IT SH8ULDN’T HAVE FUCKIN8 8EEN!

Vriska: Look at you! What the fuck kind of su8juggl8or suit are you wearing? Did someone 8leed on it?

Savoir Faire: No, no, this outfit is *cool*. You just have to give it a little *disco*, man.

Strike a pose.

Vriska: …

Vriska: You can’t seriously think any of that is appealing.

Vriska: Your clothes look like they were dragged out of 8 different gar8age 8ins.

Vriska: You couldn’t 8e more greasy and stained if you drowned in a pail of 8rooding slurry. From the st8 of your body, you actually might have!

Physical Instrument: I told you. You need to cultivate more mass.

Composure [Challenging:Failure]: Please, don’t start crying in front of a teenager.

You realize that you already have.

Vriska: Are you seriously crying right now? I might not 8e an expert on the human metamorphological process 8ut you definitely aren’t a pupa anymore. Shit, you look like you’re halfway dead already. Grow up, Pupa Pan!

Endurance: You need to stop this, now, before you break down further.

Harry: Fuck off, fucking spidery bitch! Leave me alone!

Vriska: Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen a grown man act this pathetic 8efore. How the hell did you not win this!?!?!?!? Do you even have a single thing going for you?

Esprit De Corps: You have a badge and a gun. You are a Detective Lieutenant-Yefreitor of the RCM. At least for now, you have that.

Harry: I’m a pretty good fucking cop.

Vriska: There are no good cops you dum8 8itch!

Authority: Make her stop.

Vriska: I’ve known you less than a minute and you already disgust me. I feel 8ad for the people that actually have to 8e near you.

Half Light: Do what you have to do and do it now.

Vriska: You deserved to win this. I don’t know how you can live like that. 8ack home you would have 8een culled sweeps ago.

Hand Eye Coordination [Legendary:Success]: You have never fired a shot so quickly or instinctually. You didn’t even know your gun was loaded. You pulled it out the way a cat scratches a hand, or a drunk pisses himself. You don’t remember when violence became second nature to you, but you didn’t forget how to do it either.

Harry: Oh, God.

Perception (Sight): Is that blood… blue?

Visual Calculus [Legendary:Success]: Light swirls and shimmers around the girl’s body, flashing a technicolor code you cannot decipher. Her body floats into the air, and her eyes flash open. All eight of them.

Inland Empire: No justice. No heroism. Just mindless violence.

Half Light: RUN.

Vriska: OW!

Vriska: Oh no you fucking don’t!!!!!!!!

(♏) Volition [Impossible:Failure]: You try to run, but your will is seemingly powerless to drive your body. I’m sorry.

Physical Instrument: Don’t look at me. I’m in great shape.

Interfacing: Connections seem fine. Don’t tell me we have to unplug him again…

♏Vriska♏: What the fuck.

Harry: Wh-wh-what are you doing to me?

Vriska: Shut up I’m trying to f8cus!

Inland Empire: Welcome, Thief of Light.

♏Vriska♏: What the hell is wrong with you?

Encyclopedia: Severe alcoholism. Retrograde amnesia. Partial facial paralysis. Dehydration. Heart palpi- (♏)

♏Vriska♏: 8e quiet, 8ook8rain! I’m trying to rifle through memories here and it’s a MESS!

Interfacing: We haven’t quite organized since our recent… restructuring. Try the thought cabinet.

Rhetoric: Don’t tell her that!

♏Vriska♏: Too late, sucker! Found it!

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: Jegus christ.

♏Vriska♏: In pu8lic? Why would you—

♏Vriska♏: Ugh!

♏Vriska♏: You said THAT?

♏Vriska♏: There was a8solutely no reason to do ANY of that, what the hell!

♏Vriska♏: You should honestly just kill yourself if you’re going to keep 8eing such a fuckup!

Reaction Speed: Yes!

Logic: Sound. You should kill yourself.

Empathy: It would make everyone feel better.

Endurance: Hasn’t this all gone on long enough?

Savoir Faire: It’s a hell of a statement.

Drama: The noble sacrifice, like Romeo, like Juliet!

Rhetoric: You should kill yourself NOW!

Authority: She has bested you. Listen to your better.

Half Light: Anything to get away from her.

Volition: …

♏Vriska♏: Can you creeps 8e normal for two damn seconds?

MORALE CRITICAL

The light fades from your eyes, and you fall to the floor.

Shivers: You are being called back where you belong....

—

Kim: Yes, Lieutenant. A fascinating dream. I’m sorry you did not win the competition.

Harry: What do you think it means, Kim? Do you think it could be some kind of message? Should I try to find that girl?

Kim: “That girl?”

Harry: Yeah! Vriska!

Kim: No, Lieutenant. I do not think you should go looking for Vriska Serket from Homestuck. Perhaps try looking for the killer in our murder case?

#disco elysium #homestuck #vriska serket #harry du bois #little meow meow

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ru8yx · 23 days

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✩ ᵕ̈ ིྀ ! ♯ ❝ THE WEDDING; ❞ •˙ 🦢 ⌗ ⊱

⋆⋅ ━━━━ ‧ ❞ ‧ ━━━━

🫧REGIS FLOYEN:

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆REGIS WOULD want a wedding where your happy, if you wished for a small wedding, no problem, he would invite only those closes to him and you, if you wished for a big wedding, many nobles would come, after all who wouldnt want to see the glimpse of the new Duchess in a pretty dress?

He would make sure everything shall be perfect for you, after all, he would do anything in his power to see you smiling with him. To feel the happiness you once had in your marrige before everything turned upside down.

Even if he saw you once before, in the same lovley dress, the same smile, the teary Beautiful eyes looking at his blue ones that were widen once again, cheeks dusted pink as he watched his now once again wife make her way twords him.

He held your hand, delicately as he could not look away from you, kissing away your tears as the pope read the vows, his eyes too began to fill with tears, a few drops fell onto the floor as many nobles gasped at such scene. The cold duke crying?! That shall be the tale for many years.

But he didnt care, how could he? When his lovely partner was once again in his arms, after all the pain, he promised himself that he wont ever let something happen to you.

🫧CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA;

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆CLAUDE AS AN emperor would held a grand wedding, dressed in the Imperial colours, a golden crown on his head while his red cape followed his every movement.

He designed a special crown, just for his empress, the one that shined like the moon, as he represented the sun. While in reality you were his sun, while he was the earth, if sometimes dares to happen to you, he shall slowly die, like his memories of you.

While ofcourse ATHANASIA, the now crown princess of the Obelia empire, would be all dolled up in a rosy dress, making the flowers dance along side of you as you made your way twords the pope and him.

He firmly held your head as he watched the pope with narrow cold Diamond eyes, tapping his foot as the pope began to read faster and stuttered every once a while, under the cold gaze of the emperor.

Claude did not smile, but there was a fiant smirk on his lips as he watched your hand now hold, his wedding ring, many say that they could see for a split moment how the emperor’s jeweled eyes shined under your warmth.

🫧IZEK VAN OMERTA;

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆IZEK WOULD marry you after the bedding was done, that is when your official wedding planning will start, now in his family name you will be rememberd as a true member, DUCHESS [NAME] VAN OMERTA.

The wedding would be on the smaller side, just close friends and family, his sister and father would of course help plan anything needed, while the closest knights may tease how the Cold duke was now smitted by you, even if they had to shut up after izek glared at them.

He would gently rub your knuckles with his thumb, not taking his eyes off you and your beauty, how you look like a true angel sent from heaven just for him, on that day, he swore to protect you from any harm that may be done to you.

While the pope began to talk, izek did not listen to half of what he said, he simply just started at you, almost wanting to smile, which he did later on., but now, he gently grabbed your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you, first time as his official duchess.

He gently held the hand that was now decorated with your wedding ring, swirling it around as the painter painted the two beauties, his gaze never leaving you or your beautiful smile as you tease him for staring so much.

🫧NORA NURNBERGER

˖⋆࿐໋ ⋆ NORA WOULD freeze once he saw you, dressed up as the finest doll, glammed to perfection, not that you werent already perfect to him, but now you truly looked divine, too divine.

He held his breath, watching you close your eyes, a calm smile on your face as you slowly look up at him, [e/c] eyes looking with so much love at his deep blue eyes, he felt his whole face turn a deep color, eyes wide as his lips parted.

A shaky hand gently fixed your hair as you murmured a small ’thank you’, before he leaned down to kiss your knuckles, watching you giggle at him before turning to the pope with a head nodd.

But Nora did not let go of your hand as he turned his head to look at the pope, slightly pulling twords you, as he watched you glance at him with a small smile and a little shake, watching your soon to be husband already smitted by you.

Afterward’s you smiled at Nora, posing for his paining in your wedding gown, watching him as he focused on every small detail about you, showing off your beauty, how the light seemed to do wanders for your reflection and how he can proudly call you his wife.

#manhwa x reader #regisxreader #claude x reader #noraxreader #izekxreader #wmmap x reader #stepmothersmarchenxreader #father i don't want to get married #father i dont want to get married x reader #manhwa #how to get my husband on my side #xreader

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wifegideonnav · 2 years

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the importance of pov and kiriona gaia as gideon nav’s imperialist aspect

others have already made some really smart posts about how kiriona is gideon when she’s lost everything and everyone that made her who she was, and how even in the first two books, gideon was this terrifically sad creature who was disguised by the fact that she was her own narrator.

but I want to expand on that last bit, because yes. kiriona is a gideon who has lost everything, who has had to make tough decisions to survive, who has had to adapt to being primarily around her father (a manipulative asshole) and ianthe (ianthe). but this is also the first time we’re getting to see gideon from a perspective other than her own.

we’ve always known that gideon is a beautifully unreliable narrator - see her complete understatement of the fight before harrow opened the tomb, where she neglects to tell us that she almost killed harrow with her bare hands - but I think that for a lot of us, the introduction of kiriona was when we first felt that.

now, nona is not an objective narrator either (lmao). and she does actively dislike gideon (which is fascinating, and which I could go on about for several posts). but she does offer an outside perspective on gideon that we have, up to this point, been lacking.

because… yeah. sometimes, like anyone, gideon’s kind of mean. we know she’s a good person - her goodness is in many ways one of the central drivers of the plot - but that doesn’t mean she’s nice all of the time. it’s just that when she’s being mean to crux, or ianthe, or even harrow we can say, well that person deserved that. but the truth is, gideon has lived through the kind of hell that very few people could survive with any kind of goodness and softness left intact. she didn’t live through it, in fact. she’s just kind of… existed through it.

I saw another post point this out, and I want to reiterate: gideon’s goal, her whole life, has been to join the cohort. when we first meet her, we’re like, ok, makes sense, that’s the only ‘out’ available to her. and we kind of forget, even as we learn more about the empire, that what gideon wants to join is this actively and horrifically violent imperialist force. when we get to nona, and we meet hot sauce and her gang and joli and the angel and even the edenites, we expect gideon to have kept up with us somehow, to reject the empire. we want her to be one of the “good guys” (goodness in the tlt universe is another longass post I want to write…).

but gideon doesn’t reject the empire. because, crucially, she IS the empire - she is its heir, never mind the fact that that doesn’t really mean anything when the current emperor is immortal.

what I am trying to say is this: kiriona is gideon when you take everything from her, and then replace it with her father and everything he represents, and then take a step back.

that step back is crucial. it is what allows us to remember how imperialism - and by extension, or by metaphor, cruelty - works. gideon becomes cruel because she is in proximity to cruel people, AND because she is not in proximity to us.

THAT is what Muir is saying with kiriona. even the most kind, good, earnest protagonist can become a tool of evil in the right circumstances: and those circumstances include perspective. gideon, like it or not, is currently actively choosing to be a tool of empire. and if we were in her head, we might be able to - or we might be tricked into - accept her justifications for why she’s doing it.

the perspective shift is what allows us to see gideon as she - currently - truly is. it is no accident that this is when we get the outside pov. Muir allows us nowhere to hide; we have to confront what gideon has become and by extension what she always has been.

gideon nav is a good person, and I fully believe that in alecto we will watch her reject her father; I fully believe she will get to be a hero. but in order for that to happen, she - and we - must first undergo radical change and growth in terms of her worldview and attitudes. kiriona is not gideon’s final form. but in the same way that john is described by harrow as having aspects, kiriona is the aspect or facet of gideon that embraces cruelty, that perpetuates empire.

Muir tells us: even the most beautiful-hearted, trod-on girl in the world can become a tool of empire. but I have no doubt that in alecto she will tell us: this is how that girl can destroy it.

#does this make sense???#i don’t usually make Serious Meta Posts like this lol but this is important to me #op #tlt #tlt meta #the locked tomb #nona the ninth #ntn #gideon the ninth #gideon nav #kiriona gaia

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

Text

An Offer · part 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: language, typical mafia themes, men talking, a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

When your father died, you only had time to fit all the stages of grief into one brief episode of momentary shock, then your thoughts revolved solely around the future of the Family. Besides your mother and younger sister, you had to take care of business. And even though you understood the rules of the dark world you grew up in, no one had ever explained to you what decisions you should make to prevent the empire your father had created from crumbling.

The warm rays of the setting sun were breaking through between the gravestones. You had to admit that the sun made everything a little better. Ironically, everything around you seemed to be coming to life; the greening grass, the budding leaves on the trees, the birds singing somewhere in the background. Even the slight rain didn't seem so bothersome when the sun was warming your skin and there was a crisp spring breeze in the air.

You couldn’t focus on the ceremony, your thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. You were unable to ignore the fact that, as the minutes passed, your high heels were being swallowed up more and more by the mud. In all this sense of loss, which you had never experienced before, you felt sorry for a pair of shoes, even though you had hundreds of them. So instead of letting your emotions take over, you began to list some of the funeral attendees you managed to recognise.

You spotted some members of the Rumlow Family. Despite the generally accepted rule of temporary peace and immunity for any funeral, the sight of Rumlow Senior and his son made you a little uncomfortable. You knew that their presence in any other situation would have meant trouble. For as long as you could remember, your Families had lived in discord, and even if there had not yet been a major clash, their company carried the echo of a bomb ticking somewhere nearby.

A few rows away were representatives of the Russian mafia – Melina Vostokova, who stood at the head of the group, and Natasha Romanoff.

You also saw Tony Stark – the biggest manufacturer of weapons, which your father helped distribute mainly on the black market. Tony himself claimed that he was not a gangster, but the truth was that he took the side that benefited him the most. No wonder he was the richest man in the United States. Or at least as far as you were aware.

Even state attorney Alexander Pierce showed up, which struck you as highly risky and simply stupid, but perhaps it was all about some twisted way of paying respect to a worthy rival. On the other hand – no matter how absurd it was – you wouldn't be surprised if it was John Walker, Pierce's nephew, who persuaded his uncle to attend the funeral. Walker had been looking for an opportunity to approach you for a long time; even now he was staring at you with a strange longing and an inappropriate dreaminess spreading across his face. You felt your skin itch as he stared at you like that, so you decided to look away in case John got the idea to take the initiative.

As discreetly as before, you looked a little further away. You weren't surprised by the presence of Timothy Barnes, the head of the Barnes Family, which not only lived in peace with yours; there were times when the paths of your Families would cross, so Timothy and your father occasionally visited each other to discuss the best strategy of action together.

It was the company of his nephew that surprised you. Mainly because the presence of Bucky Barnes was an unusual occurrence – a few years ago he simply disappeared and no one really knew what was going on with him at the time.

With much longer hair and a broader chest, he looked a little different than when you last saw him. And when you watched him from where you were standing you realised that he was staring at some indefinable point, and the hostility beaming from his eyes made you shudder; even if it wasn't directed at you.

You followed his gaze, wanting to know the poor man who had earned Bucky Barnes' cold, piercing stare, and you met Walker's eyes again. As John looked at you, Bucky observed him intently.

You stayed close to your mother, but did not directly accompany her when condolences and respects were paid. Right next to you stood Michael – your father's trusted advisor and confidant.

“Look at that... How desperate they are,” he said quietly, leaning towards you. “Waiting to take over everything your father worked for.”

You blinked a few times, suddenly awakened by the interest in the man's words. You were, after all, supposed to somehow take care of all this, and what Michael had said complicated matters a lot. You didn't know how you could not only control the money, the power in the Family, the influence, the connections and the territories, but also keep it from the mentioned takeover. You were getting more and more confused.

“How would they do it..?” you asked hesitantly.

“By marriage, certainly. Nobody wants a war,” Michael replied. Almost choking, you held your breath, an unpleasant knot, burning with anxiety, was tied in your stomach. “But don't worry about it,” he added calmly. “I'll try to get some suitable offer.”

Nibbling nervously on your lower lip, you glanced at your mother. You wished you had been a little more selfish and a lot more cruel – maybe then you would have focused completely on yourself. “Make sure they'll be safe. Mom and Suzie.”

Michael nodded obediently and walked away, leaving you alone with the impression that he had already begun searching for a candidate. But before that feeling could poison your consciousness completely, your mind picked up someone's presence. So you looked in front of you and, still confused by the subject brought up by Michael, fixed your gaze on Bucky Barnes, as it turned out. You frowned slightly, not quite sure why he was standing before you. In addition, alone; his uncle was talking to your mother.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that made you believe his words.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, but with proper politeness. For some unknown reason, you wanted to move. Perhaps you intended to shake Bucky's hand, or perhaps you just needed to change position. Whatever that was, you shifted, but one of your shoes refused to come off the ground. “Oh, this fucking mud…” you whimpered in helplessness rather than irritation.

Bucky immediately came to the rescue in this unusually absurd situation; he crouched down, and you felt the fingers of his warm hand wrap around your bare ankle. Aware that you wouldn't be able to free yourself from this ridiculous trap – at least not when your companion was throwing himself at your feet – you had to let Bucky handle it. Losing more control of your own legs, you leaned forward and involuntarily rested your hands on Bucky's shoulders. He didn't react; didn't frown, didn't give you an angry or confused look, didn't comment in any way. And you were really grateful to him for that, because you already had enough embarrassment. Though you couldn't complain about it at the moment – the unsolicited warmth spilling inside your stomach drowned out the rest of the emotions.

Bucky tightened his grip around your ankle even harder – although you couldn't call the sensation painful or at least uncomfortable – and pulled it upwards in a firm motion, freeing your heel from the muddy ground.

“You alright?” He asked, and you hurriedly nodded in response.

You were too busy setting your foot in some safer place to remember to move away from Bucky. So once he straightened up, your hands were still on his shoulders. But he didn't do anything about it this time either. In the most literal sense, Bucky Barnes let you find support in him. As soon as you realised this, you immediately took your hands away and nervously smoothed your dress, only to have them occupied by something other than Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky clasped his hands together in front of him, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. You couldn't look him in the eyes any longer; especially as his stare was somehow overwhelming. He nodded as if he were someone at your service, and you – too embarrassed by the event from a moment ago, stunned by the sudden, unexpected contact with Bucky Barnes and simply dazed by the atmosphere of the funeral – timidly followed him with your gaze until he disappeared into the crowd.

Even though he vanished from your sight, you could still feel his burning touch around your ankle.

It was late. Far too late for any social gatherings, but Michael announced briefly that you were expecting guests. He seemed to be in such a hurry that you didn't want to waste time on getting ready either. You had only had time to comb your hair when a maid sent by Michael peeked into your bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to the fact that you were only wearing a short satin nightgown. All you could think about was Michael's nervousness; you wondered what it could have meant and how bad a situation you were possibly in.

As you left the bedroom, you wrapped yourself tightly in the robe that was part of the set - just as short and satiny as your pyjamas. Before you had completely made it downstairs, you noticed two men not far from the front door. The prevailing coldness indicated that they had only just entered. You hesitantly stepped down from the last stair and headed forward. Recognising Timothy and Bucky Barnes, you immediately stopped. In your first instinct of learned politeness, you tried to give proper attention to the older one, but you couldn't help the way that every molecule in your body, pushed by natural curiosity, was drawn to Timothy's nephew.

Unlike his uncle, Bucky was not wearing a long coat but a leather jacket. Exposed to the pouring rain outside, it glistened in places. You raised your gaze to look at his damp hair, but before you got there, you noticed that he was watching you too. At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

“Gentlemen,” Michael said. An obvious tension in his voice reminded you that something was wrong. “Please.” He leaned meaningfully towards the dining room. “Miss Y/N should be here in a moment.”

“She already is,” Timothy shared his observation, a sly smile stretching out his mouth. Michael only then noticed your presence.

A silver tray with a couple bottles of alcohol – the only acceptable treat at this hour and on this occasion - was placed on the long dining table, along with glasses.

You adjusted your robe precautiously and took a seat, facing your guests. Michael sat right next to you, completing the impression of the formation of two camps separated by a table.

“I'm beginning to hear rumors that Brock Rumlow has made you an offer,” Timothy spoke, the expression on his face indicated that he wasn't surprised in any way.

“An offer..?” You repeated, holding back the urge to give Michael a disapproving look. He should have told you.

“On your hand in marriage, of course.”

‘Marriage’ combined with ‘Brock Rumlow’ made a mixture so disturbing and explosive that you felt the blast in your gut. As if someone kicked you in the stomach. You should have guessed what the ‘offer’ meant, on the other hand you hoped Michael would mention it as soon as it came up. But you didn't expect Rumlow to make a move so quickly.

“This worry does not concern you, I am afraid,” Michael claimed.

Timothy leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a slightly dismissive look. “We had a good relationship. Freddie and I. We advised each other on many occasions so that our decisions wouldn't endanger our Families,” he said. “So yes, this worry does concern us. And I'm curious to see what you decide.”

You glanced surreptitiously at Bucky, as if you needed reassurance that he was still sitting there, but you sensed he was around even without that. He held his eyes on you as you watched him with evident confusion, then reached for one of the bottles standing nearby. He took a quick look at the label, then poured some of the rusty-red liquid into a glass and slid it over to you. Did he think you needed alcohol to process what you were about to hear?

“Brock Rumlow isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” Michael said calmly. “You know how powerful the Rumlow Family is. And making peace with such a strong enemy would make our business, as well as yours, easier. I suppose I don't have to explain it to you.”

“Do you think this is what Freddie would want for his daughter?” Timothy asked.

“Freddie got himself killed,” Michael snapped, the atmosphere at the table became even thicker. “And as for his daughter, he didn't prepare her properly. He was a fool if he thought it would never happen.”

There was silence. You looked down at the glass wrapped tightly by your fingers, and finally decided to raise it to your lips. It wasn't the nasty, bitter taste of the drink that bothered you, but the thought of your future. You were pretty sure that your fate had already been decided.

“If you make an agreement with Rumlow, sooner or later he will violate, if not break, all its points,” Bucky spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. “He made the offer less than twenty-four hours after the funeral,” he pointed out. “Not to mention he only showed up to steer you towards positive consideration,” he said casually, and you thought that such diplomacy was clashing with his wet leather jacket and stubble.

“James…” Michael sighed.

It seemed, however, that Bucky was not going to let go. “You know what this deal is about,” he continued with a strange, surprising resolve, as if the matter affected him personally. “Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?” he sneered.

“You know surprisingly much about these agreements.” Michael no longer concealed his irritation.

“I can marry Brock,” you finally spoke up, and this time they all looked at you. Michael was relieved, Timothy concerned in some way, and Bucky appeared to be a little lost since you seemed to ignore everything he just said. “It’s not like I have to live with him. Right..?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked angrily at Michael. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I haven't had a chance. You admitted yourself that they were quick to make an offer,” Michael defended himself. Bending under the pressure Bucky was putting on him, Michael looked at you nervously. “Rumlow Senior has the right to claim an heir who will take over both of the Families in the future. In this case… it is possible that you will have to live with Brock after all.”

These words flooded your mind, almost making you dizzy. You grabbed your glass again and poured the rest of the alcohol down your throat to fight the nausea.

“Well…” Lips pursed, you took a deep breath through your nose. “This complicates things… a little.”

“I will arrange a meeting and everything will be clear,” Michael said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “We are not sure what they think about all this. No matter what is said about Brock,” he glanced at Bucky not accidentally. “we should meet with him.”

“Great,” Bucky snorted. “I’ll be there.”

“Excuse me..?”

“Since our decisions affect our Families…” Bucky recalled his uncle's earlier words. “It’s obvious that Y/N doesn't know enough about arranged marriages, so I’ll be there. As an adviser.” He shrugged. “You are more than happy to team up with the Rumlows, and I will try to cool that enthusiasm.” He tilted his head, smiling insincerely.

“If that's how you see it, it's more a case for your uncle,” Michael protested.

They both looked at Timothy, and his lips stretched slowly in a mysterious grin.

“I believe Buck can handle it,” he said.

The meeting was over. You decided to accompany Michael to see the guests off.

Michael walked beside Timothy, who was walking to his car; they were discussing something that didn't exactly reach your ears, but you didn't feel the need to know. You weren't concerned that they were discussing your future - you doubted they felt like it after the conversation at the table.

“Bucky?” You started in a soft tone. Bucky, who had just left your house with the intention of joining Timothy, stopped and looked at you. You walked down a few steps and stood on the stone path, right in front of him.

He swept his gaze over you again, starting from your bare feet, through your exposed legs, to the delicate material of your nightgown. His stare didn't make you sick as the thought of Brock did.

Bucky took a step towards you, and the scent of fresh laundry, mint and wet forest hit you. You stepped back, so he did it again until you were standing under the canopy that protected you from the rain.

“Do you always have to get some poor girl out of trouble?” You squinted, but couldn't help an amused smile forming on your lips.

“No. Just you.” He shrugged, slipping his hands in the jacket pockets. “I don’t want you to get cold. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to get cold.” You nodded. “Just like you didn’t want me to drown in the mud. And now you don’t want me to marry Brock,” you pointed out, raising your eyebrows. “Why? Because Michael is right; joining our Families together would be the best option. You don’t want that?”

“The best option?” he repeated. “For everyone except you?”

You smiled softly in response – you didn’t feel like thinking about that again. “So? What’s the reason?”

Bucky looked away for a second, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

You watched him expectantly, finally raised your eyebrows in theatrical disbelief and both of you laughed briefly. No matter how curious you were about the real reason, you decided not to badger him.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Walker?” Bucky asked playfully, frowning.

“Walker? John Walker..?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Why?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. You can be sure he’ll make an offer, too.”

You wanted to laugh at his words, but the truth was Bucky could be right. And the thought of that made you more exhausted than you already were. “What about you?” you asked casually. You didn't beg for anything, you didn't offer anything. You were just curious. “You're not part of this?”

For a split second you witnessed him tense up. He clenched his hands, only to relax them immediately afterwards – just like his jaw muscles. You didn't understand the source of this reaction, but you didn't even think about it; it was like a brief flash that you didn't have time to think about properly.

“I may have my heart in the right place, but I'm not a guy you marry,” he said. “Steve is. I can put in a good word for you if you want,” he added jokingly, making you smirk. “Get back inside, Y/N,” Bucky commanded softly as he began to leave, taking a couple steps backwards.

You rolled your eyes, and he turned his back to you, then got in the car, leaving you with that burning feeling again. This time it wasn't just limited to your ankle, but your whole body.

#bucky barnes #mob bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x y/n

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apas-95 · 4 months

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is the implication, by people who act as though 'basic analysis and critique of the reactionary elements of works' is a condemnation and a demand to never engage with the works in question, meant to be that all the media they engage in is stuff they find completely unobjectionable?

like, one of my favourite television shows of all time is functionally based on the premise of 'what if star trek was more openly imperialist and just textually starred the US military as the representatives of humanity' - it's an incredibly reactionary show! - and I still enjoy watching and analysing it, because I understand that 'watching (or not watching) a TV show' is not in any way a meaningful political action. in itself, believing that is silly and disconnected from reality, but it also says some very strange things about your views if you *truly* find nothing wrong with any popular media produced by the largest empire in history!

I think it's the contradiction, the dissonance, between the unsustainable view of media consumption as Important Praxis, and the reality that they enjoy media that has reactionary elements (as everything does), that leads to the rabid defensiveness. having come face to face with the conclusion that their own - incorrect - mode of understanding the world would, if what you said were true, make them A Bad Person (or mean they'd have to stop watching TV), they lash out at the perceived instigator of the discomfort, rather than the contradiction itself

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worldoshaking · 3 months

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There’s something uniquely haunting about the words ‘one brings shadow, one brings light’ and how many different things they mean over the course of the story.

At the start of A Realm Reborn, the hero takes on the name of the Warrior of Light, and nothing could be more fitting. They are the champion of justice, someone who fights to bring peace to a war-torn, despairing world. It is a symbolism that resonates naturally and easily with the audience: the Warrior of Light lifts the shadow of the Empire, and lets people look forward to new beginnings, turn to a new dawn with the coming of the Astral Era. (As we eventually learn from Moren, the name was originally born of that symbolism: from people finding hope in their heroes, and giving them a name expressive of that hope.)

And then we meet the Warriors of Darkness: at first glance, they are obvious villains, seeking to undo the Warrior of Light’s work and drown the Source in darkness and fear. Their name evokes skullduggery and mystique, and it is a haunting inversion of the Warrior of Light’s, suggesting that they are bound to be our foes.

And then we learn the truth of their origins: they were Warriors of Light, just like us, and their path, so like ours, brought ruin upon their world. We learn, for the first time, that the Light is a force to be reckoned with and feared, and that Light and Dark are not so different after all.

When we finally get to the First, the inversion comes full circle. We meet Ardbert as the Warrior of Light, and our WoL is now the fabled Warrior of Darkness: the bringer of night and reprieve to a world that has known no rest from fear and striving. The term ’Warrior of Light’ is no longer a symbol of adulation, but one of reprobation and reproach.

The duality of shadow and light is also exemplified by Emet-Selch and the Crystal Exarch. The Exarch turns to the future with hope, while Emet-Selch lives in the past, with the shades of memory. The Exarch seeks to protect Hydaelyn’s will, and avert the return of Zodiark. Emet-Selch slinks and prowls on the margins of history, weaving malign and intricate plots, sowing discord and fear and doubt. The Exarch stands at the forefront of history, facing down corruption and chaos, making his city a bastion of resistance and rallying everyone beneath the cause of hope. Emet-Selch represents the shadow of conquest and imperialism over the land; the Exarch has built a city of kindness, fellowship and egalitarianism.

And yet, even here, the symbolism is inverted, for the hope the Exarch brings is in the shape of the gentle night, while Emet-Selch seeks to drown the world in searing light. In the bright open spaces of the Crystarium, it is only the Exarch who walks in shadow. He deals in secrets, hiding his plans and his face and his name, while Emet-Selch seeks to understand, and bestows terrible knowledge. The light of the Exarch’s plan is perfect and pitiless, and it is up to Emet-Selch’s prowlings and plottings to save him, gun in villainous hand.

And the most fundamental form of the inversion is learning that Emet-Selch is, in a way, fighting for the same thing as the Warrior of Light is: he is fighting to save his world and his people, and to him we are the villains.

The light of the Warriors’ hope and belief breaks through the miasma of Hades’ terror and grief. And at the end, Emet-Selch stands there, ragged light spilling out of the hole in his body, and smiles, in a final gesture of acknowledgement. He dissolves into a shower of gentle light, spilling over the Warrior of Light like a benediction.

Everything is inverted in the First: people glory in the name of sinners, shudder at forgiveness, and celebrate the night. The sin eaters are bright and beautiful and gentle, and they bring a terrible, merciless forgiveness: a forgiveness that tears you apart from the inside; a forgiveness that blankets the world in silence and inexorable light.

The first time we hear the iconic line ’one brings shadow, one brings light’ is in the scene where the Warriors of Light and Darkness merge into one—the Warrior of Light helping to contain the light raging within the Warrior of Darkness, their souls embracing in understanding and warmth. It is a moment of glorious illumination: of the twin Warriors understanding their connection, and of Ardbert seeing his purpose, the clear resonant notes of the theme song ringing out in glorious triumph. But it is also a moment of gentleness and reprieve. The light is no longer spilling out of the Warrior of Light’s wounded soul; Ardbert is there, providing them with sanctuary, with gentle shade. The Warrior of Light does not have to be fight their battle alone and unflinching. They do not have to be perfect any more, for there is someone to watch their back.

They are truly two-toned echoes tumbling through time: Ardbert retraced the Warrior of Light’s path on the First, and now they have retraced his.

The symbolism of light and dark is most starkly exemplified by Hydaelyn and Zodiark—Zodiark as the will of the star back to the past, to the splendour and sorrow and hubris of Amaurot; Hydaelyn as the will of the star towards light and growth and change. But now it is Hydaelyn who reigns, and defends herself against Zodiark’s incursion. She is no longer the disruptor, but the preserver of the status quo, of the lives that already exist. On the First, Light brings stasis and silence and emptiness.

We revisit this symbolism with Elidibus in The Seat of Symbolism: the heart of Zodiark, taking on the person of the Warrior of Light, and fighting off Hydaelyn’s champion, who bears the mantle of a Warrior of Darkness. Elidibus is lost in grief and darkness and doubt; he fears loss, and he does not remember. He must fight to save his doomed cause, though he does not know why. The Crystal Exarch and the Warrior of Darkness bring him light, in the shape of remembering, and of absolution. Now he remembers the comrades he fought for, and the love that drove him; he does not have to struggle on in the darkness any more.

In the Eden storyline, the symbolism of shadow and light is evoked by Ryne and Gaia, the Oracles of Light and Darkness. Mitron seeks to keep Gaia in the shadows, taking her memories, wresting away her agency over her life. Ryne brings her light, in a symbolic sense, helping her discover who she is and what she wants, offering her warmth and comfort and hope. But it is simultaneously Gaia’s darkness that helps them break the light’s chokehold and return life and growth to the world. It is the hammer of her darkness that breaks through the light’s overwhelming hold on Ryne, quite literally saving both her and the world. And in the end, she makes the powerful choice not to know of her past in Eulmore, preferring to turn her gaze to the future. Her story encapsulates a central theme of the Eden arc: escaping stasis, embracing change and growth, making new memories.

In Shadowbringers, right and wrong are not inexorable absolutes that we are to be judged by. Light and Darkness are two-toned echoes tumbling through time: humanity and the dragons, the Warriors of Light and Darkness, the champions of Zodiark and Hydaelyn. We should not be too quick to form our judgements, for nothing is as it seems, and there is hope to be found in the night.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv meta #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #crystal exarch #g'raha tia #emet-selch #ardbert hylfyst #ryne waters #gaia ffxiv #rynegaia #my post

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