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#but that’s the real metaphor isn’t it
nekropsii · 3 days
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People in the Cronus v. Vriska debate will also completely ignore that Cronus. Really wants to kill people. He just says that. No obfuscation included.
He doesn’t even have any excuse for it. Vriska killing people makes sense because she grew up on Alternia and had to feed her Lusus. Cronus just wants to kill people because he wants to do murder-eugenics and is really fucking mad murder-eugenics isn’t legal and does in fact have social consequences. Cronus just wants to kill disabled people for being disabled and not get in trouble for it. He explicitly says he wishes culling “meant what it should have” on Beforus.
Vriska was born and raised on Alternia, and that’s not her fault. It is, in fact, an entirely new level of fucking deranged to want Alternian laws to be real. Growing up in a system where killing people deemed below you is okay is different from wishing you lived in a system where killing people deemed below you is okay, because growing up there inherently means that that is already normal to you, while wishing that was the case inherently means it is not normal to you, you just want more harm to befall specific out groups (the lower class, the disabled, etc.) and to hurt more people in more violent ways.
People also love to casually ignore that Cronus is a grown adult. Like, sure, he’s 19, and 19 years old is pretty young in the grand scheme of things, but he is still a grown ass man who knows better. Him knowing better and simply not caring is literally a major part of his character. He is a grown ass man who can make his own legal decisions and live on his own. He can pay taxes. He could buy a house. He could invest in the stock market. In some countries, he can legally drink. He can drive. He can drink and drive. He can go die in the military. He’s grown. He’s a grown ass man. Vriska is 13. That is a child. Like, a CHILD child. Vriska is a middle school child. This is the difference between a middle schooler and a college student. Think of how mentally developed you were at 13. You weren’t even done with puberty yet. You’re not even done growing at that age. Cronus can fucking vote. He can go to adult prison. If you spotted a kid Vriska’s age out roaming the street with no guardian in sight, you’d probably be worried.
A major part of Cronus’s character is that he is a terrible person by choice, willingly, knowingly, and does not care. He is making a decision. Him being shitty and awful is a conscious choice he is making. He knows he is hurting people, and he knows what he is doing is terrible, and he does not care. Cronus knows that trying to bang children 6 years his junior is bad. He doesn’t care. He knows he is abusing Mituna, he calls it abuse, and he knows abuse is bad. He doesn’t care. He knows sex crimes are bad. He doesn’t care. He’s too entitled to care about anyone but himself and his own gratification.
Vriska is a 13 year old anti-hero who literally gets groomed and is shown to only be Like That because she is extremely traumatized and her experience of living on Alternia has made it so her guard is up 24/7. She literally cannot put the metaphorical swords down. She thinks it’s the only thing keeping her alive.
Cronus does not have an excuse.
That is, like… The Point.
The point is that he sucks and is irredeemable. He doesn’t have a single quality that makes standing around him worthwhile. He’s a relentless, unapologetic abuser. He just doesn’t care. He’s the most entitled man to ever live. He sees people as punching bags and sex toys, and any time this notion is rejected or faces even the slightest pushback, he freaks the fuck out about it.
And the point with Vriska is that she is complicated, and a child. A really, really traumatized, really, really scared child.
I don’t know, I think there’s a party here that is objectively worse.
… And - hear me out! - I think… I think it’s the adult sex predator… And not the child.
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padfootastic · 11 months
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first he replaced James as the most important person in Sirius's life and now he's taking James whole personality MAKE IT STOPPPPP
quick who’s writing the (body?) horror fic where remus is SO obsessed with sirius, he needs to have him, and knows the one and only obstacle in his life is james potter. so he plots.
he plots, gets into their group, gets close to all of them. but that’s not all. he slowly…very slowly starts replicating all of james’ personality traits, wears them like a winter cloak but all year round. and then, like the slowly boiling a frog situation, he eventually becomes james. the final step: taking over his body. getting rid of the man himself.
until all that’s left is sirius black and james-who-was-once-remus potter. but what’s an identity if u can have the man of ur dreams, the love of ur life?
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compacflt · 11 months
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what are bradley’s earliest memories of ice and mav? the bits of his perspective on them that you’ve written are so fascinating
fairly unsurprising answer but: ice: when he came to see Carole to apologize for killing goose in ch 2 of wwgattai (sets the tone of their relationship)
mav: something very benign like mav doing magic tricks for him as a little little kid. you know how your earliest memories are always a little fuzzy and always afternoon sunshine? imagine a desaturated maverick sitting crosslegged in the grass in pale afternoon southern california sunshine showing Bradley how he can detach his thumb from his hand and then put it back again. no blood, no bone, no pain, and he’s got this daredevil grin like he’s enjoying separating his thumb from his hand. can’t see his eyes behind his aviators. the best magicians are the ones who can make even their pain disappear. or, playing “got your nose,” holding Bradley’s nose up so he can see it right in front of his very eyes, NO PAIN!, and then making it disappear. “where’d your nose go, Gosling? oh, my gosh, I lost your nose!! how’re you gonna smell? i bet you’re gonna smell bad. get it? get it? —here it is, i found it, don’t worry, it’s all good!” and putting his nose back so everything’s ok. that’s Bradley’s earliest memory of mav.
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snitchhazel570 · 1 year
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does anyone else think about how mari might’ve actually saved shauna? while they’re praying/making offerings before shauna gives birth she shouts the thing about not wanting shauna to die, but then they stop the whole thing before anyone says anything about the baby. maybe that’s all the wilderness heard so that’s all it gave them
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joculine · 2 months
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WRT last reblog, that did actually happen to me. Right before I made the appointment to start HRT I had a dream where an older, hotter instance of myself visited me and we had awesome self sex. She let me bite her tits. And I knew I needed to start HRT soon to complete the loop.
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incidentalblr · 1 year
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listen valvert is a better exploration of les mis’s themes than enjoltaire could ever be
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ezraphobicsoup · 1 month
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tomodachi life is soooo silly it’s like hey man sorry to hear you got broken up with (which i encouraged to happen) and now you’re depressed. have a cracker. and then they’re happy again and everything’s fine it’s incredible truly the pinnacle of realistic emotional gameplay (i’m barely even really being sarcastic here to be honest)
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Too many thoughts too little organization of them BUT something about the ways that we heal from trauma and how we work through the same shit over and over again learning something new about it/ourselves everytime it comes up, and how WCS feels so important to the midnights story (memories feel like weapons, your finger on my hairpin triggers, etc) and the ways that processing and healing from trauma significantly impact relationships and sometimes we find ourselves in situations that we thought we wayyyy better for us because of some important differences but looking back on them they end up having more in common than we ever would have admitted while we’re in it. Idk!!! Just, these things feel related and (not necessarily in an accusatory way towards joe, let’s let her tell the story first) I think we swifties need to be prepared to have serious conversations about trauma and triggers and love bombing and the themes of violence in her work and how difficult it can be to extract yourself from bad situations and and and and and
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amethysttribble · 1 year
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Day 1,854 of people in the Tolkien fandom not knowing what an allegory is
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lesbiansanemi · 2 years
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I don’t know. I just think maybe we shouldn’t compare potential “prejudice” against a fantasy species that literally eats people to actual real life racism
#someone commented on one of my kny fics that it was ‘racism’ that the demon slayers were so intolerant of demons#and within the context of the entire comment the ^^above was kinda what they were implying#and like…. the thing is…. perhaps within the context of that fictional world#there IS a prejudice against demons (as seen with nezuko)#but any ‘metaphor’ in regards to ACTUAL racism I just feel like should not be made there#considering actual real world racism exists for NO reason other than intolerance/hate/systematic power over an oppressed group#and comparing THAT to a fictional scenario where ppl hate x species because they EAT PEOPLE is not it#ANY ‘metaphor’ for actual racism in fantasy that hinges on there being a ‘reason’ for the racism (ie they’re dangerous) is terrible#and should not exist because as I said… the implications that victims of racism ‘deserve’ that racism is there#so uh…. not great I must say maybe that isn’t what we need to be comparing this to#idk they also compared the idea that humans eating livestock was the same as actual cannibalism so 😭#and they used the r slur in the comment as well so tbh there was a lot going on here that was Not Great#idk I just think some critical thinking would be nice on occasion and maybe DONT try and compare these types of things#it’s insensitive and also downright harmful in certain circumstances so like :/#obviously this isn’t a widespread thing I’ve seen it’s just this once but HOLY fuck No no that is Not the point#kaz rambles
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redstonedust · 10 months
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“ooh garlic salt isn’t real” yeah well neither is your MARRIAGE after i’m done FUCKING YOUR HUSBAND and afterwards he eats my delicious cooking that i seasoned with GARLIC SALT. FUCK YOU
i think. you sent this to the wrong person. but im enamoured with your energy. you can have my metaphorical husband you deserve her
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boats-n-birds · 8 months
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okay now thinking more about it, lain has FOR SURE made me worse lmao
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eelhound · 10 months
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"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:
If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.
'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?
This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).
But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."
- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.
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artbyblastweave · 1 year
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I saw a post a couple of days ago that said one of the most important things about Steven Universe, thematically, is that everybody in the core cast has done at least one completely morally unjustifiable thing, regardless of how likeable or sympathetic they are otherwise, and that this is important to understanding the show thematically. This is true. 
But it also reminded me of one other thing I really like about Steven Universe, which is that it’s the emotional-toxicity equivalent of all those posts about how cartoons have to come up with unimaginably worse forms of death and violence in the course of avoiding getting censored for depicting plausible forms of death and violence.  All of the ways in which SU characters cross those emotional and interpersonal lines are wrapped up either in their fantastic abilities or their bizarre life circumstances in a way that makes it all esoterically awful and often much more existentially horrifying than any of the real-life dynamics it’s alluding to. You’ve said nasty things to people in the heat of the moment but you’ve never shapeshifted into the guy’s dead wife to twist the knife a little more. No violation of bodily autonomy is ever gonna involve contriving a situation in which the other party will believe that it’s necessary to fuse with you, body and soul in order to do demolition work. The most toxic relationship in the world isn’t gonna involve imprisoning someone at the bottom of the ocean for several months and only emerging to participate in humanoid-sacrifice rituals. Your codependency will never last 8,000 years, be frontloaded with a faked death you’re biomechanically incapable of confessing to, and end with your partner’s suicide-by-childbirth. Your worst roommate situation will never end with one party stealing the apartment and taking it to the moon. Et al. Et al.
I don’t remember where I was going with this, precisely, (and I may have drifted sideways from the original discussion topic of crossed lines per se, but whatever.) I mean part of it’s funny because it exists in a series with tons of mundane, non-metaphorical examinations of interpersonal issues, like everything to do with Lars and Sadie, or Sour Cream and Marty. And there’s an extent to which I’m just describing how cartoons are written. But there’s something special about how Steven Universe does it. Something delightfully fucked up about it all. I think maybe part of it is that it’s a considered and embraced fucked-upedness, none of this is just an ill-considered fridge-logic by-product of something else they were trying to do. Like for every one of these, someone in the writers room probably went, “Man, this has some fucked up implications,” and then everyone would go, “Yeah!” and hi five and put it in specifically because of that. Great Show. Great show
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baeshijima · 9 months
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— “hands off! i’m taken!”
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for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption
A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).
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it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)
he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.
and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?
“hands off! i’m taken!”
…or so he thought.
regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.
“pardon?”
“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”
were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.
(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)
alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 
now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…
‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.
then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.
seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”
“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”
“actually, i am.”
you blink at him. “you’re what?”
“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.
(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)
after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”
there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—
quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”
is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?
against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.
“then… may i ask what i am?”
“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”
neuvillette feels as though he could cry.
(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.
despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.
yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)
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mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.
if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33
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ezraphobicsoup · 6 months
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the world is harsh and cruel (my good ideas are out of stock :( )
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