▐ accuser '

to KILL to KILL to KILL

[edhelhernil-deactivated20150614]

accxser

[kreejustice-blog]

princess.

      ‘ Someday I want to find myself among the stars. You said once you came here in a ship that could fly– ‘ her voice no short of wonderment as she touches almost tenderly on that word, ‘ —cannot I one day be in it? ‘

          He did not smile, no. But his face softened, his violet eyes warmed, and for any that knew him the sight of such an expression was akin to a marble statue coming to life. “Perhaps. Though it is in no state to fly and I fear I have not the means in this place to make it so... Where would you like to go if you could?”

[kreejustice-blog]

pietro.

He shifts his body in the darkness.  There is a thrum in him, POWER unwarranted, surging and begging beyond his natural skill, his instincts, all that he was already given.  His own speed had paled in comparison to the magnificence of the stone, the terror that had torn through his flesh from the inside out to crack him as stone struck by tools.  Teeth click and grind at the memories.  His eyes feel hot as they flare, purple shining bright and furious to have let someone live –

It is alive, Pietro thinks.  Alive and hungry, God help us all.

But it will survive for now without him.  He is too focused, too powerful in his will.  The hunger in his own bones will be ignored for as long as his heart still beats – as long as his hand can rest on the wall, he can watch the master that took him under ancient law and hear his words clearly.  The anger.  The RAGE, even with a half broken compliment buried within them, Pietro feels nothing other than his fury, and responds in kind.

     “It will not.”  He says, and steps forward.  “The vipers have been pulled from our ranks.  They attempted to stop us, destroy us, and they failed.  If we are beaten and bruised, so too are they.”

Gamora had stared at him with such a broken sorrow, with her lips parted and blood oozing in green from between them.  It had been a fight to meet that gaze without growling, without knocking her down and SLITTING HER THROAT as she deserved.  Thanos be damned.  There was madness and there was reason – his master, his teacher stood on the proper side of that rope.

     “It is not your way, because you have no tried it.  To dwell is to contemplate what might have gone wrong.  But to speak – it is fresh air on a wound that is stagnant.  Our soldiers are expected to speak of their failures before allowed back on the field of battle.  I am.  Aware it is not the same.  But perhaps it could help, RONAN.”  And the word, the name is off of his tongue because he can catch it, titles tossed aside and leaving a shiver to run down his spine.  Were he to be killed for it –

             “If you are willing to try.”

His fury beats hard and heavy within his aching chest, singular war drum fit to burst against cracked bone and bruised membrane. And matched too, by the boy ( near enough a man, a warrior soon in his own right ) sitting across from him. Lack of title is noted, and where once it might be met with irritation he feels his chin tip forward in interest only. Not weakened then by the stone. No. STRENGTHENED. His lips twitched in the barest smile, if a smile it could be called. 

                           “Very well,” he answered, voice booming harshly, fingers curling into a tight fist that rested on the table between them. Through the smooth orbit of a cracked planet he watched the boy ( his son ), watched the play of emotion on his face. 

                    “I made an error. ME. At the moment when I should have had everything that I have been working towards. I was distracted by a FOOL.” Voice builds with each word, until he is near shouting, a voice that brings grown Kree to their knees, that made warriors quake. His eyes flash, obsidian teeth gleaming in the low light. 

                                    “This was my mistake. And it nearly cost me everything.”

[kreejustice-blog]

stares at.

GLARES AT.

[kreejustice-blog]

blo w s a kiss.

*is quietly quite pleased tbh*

[kreejustice-blog]

unknown.

          The name was not familiar to his ears, as many other things whose origin traced back to another galaxy. But he did not need to know the name to understand tha archetype, he did not need to have seen the demon in action to recognise the impulse of destruction. Fëanáro breathed in deeply, like one who is about to yell, yet when he spoke his voice was controlled, restrained; even though he let the quiver of his rancour ring in his low vowels.

          « Moringotho. It means “Black Foe” in my native language. »

          It seemed that they stared at each other measuring their anger, or whatever strong sentiment raged under the surface of their faces; and he had an abundance of it, believing that none could feel wrath in a greater measure. But that one, his host, could surely at least rival it, maybe he could be the exception that equaled it; for few could meet his gaze, let alone hold it.

          But not even such a challenge managed to kept his eyes away from the hammer for long. It seemed to bend the very structure of the Force around them, even though the Accuser was no Force-user. The hands and mind that had wrought that weapon into existence had capture in such a power that, for a moment, the thought of their work enraptured him.

          « It is a creature… » he said, slowly moving his attention to other again; « —An ancient creature, some would call him a god. But I much prefer to define him and his brethren as filth. »

          Noted was the shift in gaze to his hammer, the Universal Weapon forged with great knowledge and skill. He understood the technology of it, but it had never failed to awe him at times, the power that it might wield, the responsibility that he wielded with it: to defend his people, to destroy their enemies. 

                                        This one seemed not to be an enemy. 

Moringotho, he named his own demon, and Ronan felt the stir of hatred so familiar to him and nearly smiled for it, a black and ugly smile. But his features remained still as stone, lodging the name away carefully to ponder over later. 

                 « Even the greatest celestial beings can shed their blood and die. » And now his teeth showed, obsidian and feral as he spoke. He did not believe in gods, not truly. Else they were just beings made strong and still capable of being brought to their knees. In this he sensed something kindred in the other, sensed some dark strength about him that his own weapon only confirmed. Yet no mood was made to attack by either. He thought that might prove disastrous indeed.  

                      « I am Ronan the Accuser of the Kree Empire. Whom do I address? »

[momopuff]

GIF REQUEST MEME ⌊ anonymous asked marvel + favorite villain

[midsommar]

Xandar, you stand accused! Your wretched peace treaty will not save you now. It is the tinder on which you burn.

[halosydnes]

A Kree fanatic, outraged by the peace treaty, who will not rest until Xandarian culture, my culture, is wiped from existence!

[leviackereman]

[xeightyhg]

Don’t use the word ‘Gypsy.’

Hello, roleplayers of the Maximoff twins old and new.  It’s wonderful to see more of you around!  Since AOU came out, people have become newly enthralled in the twins and roleplaying as them, which is a wonderful thing.  They are lovely people, worthy of exploration, but it has brought up a point that needs to be made clear.  Unfortunately, I’ve noted at least four blogs using the word gypsy in various ways.  From blog titles, urls, to in roleplays, often tossing it around as though it was just a term or a nickname, and I feel the need to make the background of the word clear – an explain why you should not, under any circumstances, use that word.  

First off, gypsy is an ethnic slur.

I know, you probably didn’t expect that.  Channels like TLC use it in the TV show titles, movie titles, and even the otherwise near flawless queen Gaga uses it as a song title.  Unfortunately, gypsy has roots that are steeped only in racism, primarily from the UK and other European countries.  They use this term to refer to the Roma people, those of Romani descent who even now are still pushed out of countries, denied basic social rights and services, and considered second class.  Gypsy paints the imagery in the minds of those who know it’s real definition of crime ridden, homeless, culture-less thieves who are worth nothing and deserve just as much.

Unfortunately, the word itself has been romanticized by western culture who aren’t aware of it’s severity.  Romani people choose to live apart sometimes, and some choose to attempt to integrate themselves into culture.  That many still live separate is not a sign of truth in the meaning behind the slur, but a fact of long standing distrust because of the centuries of bigotry that was used against them, the attack and targeting of Hitler’s regime, and the fact that most people will have no idea that the Roma people were targeted with similar severity as the Jewish.  There is as much distrust, bigotry, and hate between the Roma people and the European countries as there is between America and those of African descent, though you may not have realized it.

To put it simply, using gypsy is like using ANY OTHER racial slur, and should be just as negative in our eyes.  While I encourage the continued roleplaying of your new muses, please stop using a word steeped in hate.  gypsy, gyppo, gippo, gypo, gyppie, gyppy, gipp, they are not cute or marks of culture, they are marks of racism and bigotry.  

Thank you, and happy roleplaying.

[theycallmescarletwitch]

Ekhem, BULLSHIT. 

I happen to live in a country where live a lot of Gypsies. And yes, there is a huge difference between Roma people and Gypsies. Most of Gypsies I know get even confused when you start calling them Roma. Because Roma means nothing more or less than a citizen of Romania. Not all Gypsies are Roma [children from mixed marriage for example, where one of the parents is in fact Roma Gypsy and the other is (in this case) Polish. Trust me, the kid will call themselves a Gypsy.] And not all Roma are Gypsies. 

Gypsies, just like Jews (until 1945) live in diaspora. It means that they don’t have their country. Because many of them live on the territory of Romania, we started calling them Roma, even though those are two different nations! Do you really call Roma a Gypsy family who lives in France for 200 years? No! Because Gypsy diaspora shares the same culture, not nationality. 

So it’s not a racial slur.  

[magnetisedcatharsis]

Yeah, no.

Check your privilege. The word ‘Gypsy’ is a slur. It’s a demonising and dehumanising word that has been used to encompass a variety of people over the years but primarily the Rroma ethnic group. Romani and Romanian are two separate things, they’re not synonymous. Mostly since one is an ethnicity and the other a nationality.

The Rroma have been around for years, my people have bled for years, and funnily enough we know what is considered offensive and what isn’t. Were your grandparents branded like cattle with the letter ‘Z’ for Zigeuner, the German word for ‘Gypsy’,  were they were rounded up and treated like dogs? Are your people still being persecuted now, denied basic things like education and healthcare? How about being forcibly sterilised or removed from the home they’ve lived at for decades? Any of these ringing a bell?

It’s a slur. It is a word that across countless countries has been acknowledged as a slur, and for the simple fact it’s been used to debase and demean an entire race - it shouldn’t be used so liberally, least of all by someone that clearly has no comprehension of the history or negative connotations it carries with it. 

[enfantdivine-deactivated2015113]

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

[kreejustice-blog]

seeing this big dumb blueberry on my dash again makes me very happy uwu

*GIVES U SMOOCHES*

[photosynthxsis]

                                   P H O T S Y N T H X S I S 

                           indie rp blog of GROOT from marvel’s guardian of the galaxy.                            mcu based with 616 influences.                            REVAMPING & TO BE BACK IN ACTION !!!!!                            written by gem. it’s good 2 be back.

                                                           [ index. verses. ask ]

[kreejustice-blog]

pietro.

He moves forward fluidly.  There is, so often, time that he speeds for even the shortest distances – the flush of pleasure when he races from doorway to see, from pathway to building roof.  But to do so is unseemly, a useless waste of power.  To control himself as he settles into the chair, back taut and head raised is success, no matter how minor.

But in the kingdom of RONAN, ACCUSER, there is no such thing as a minor success, no additional label.  He must remember that.  He will.

     “I would seek the right to hear you, plainly.  Such a setback-”

( Not a failure, no no no. )

     “It cannot rest easily.  Of Kree, I do not doubt there is a       hesitance to speak without guarded words.  However,       it… is a studied success, among those of my blood, the       sharing of wounds.  May I hear how you feel?”

          If he had not been made of marble, already hard and harsh and fluid stone, he might have hardened yet. Obsidian teeth click shut, however, an audible sound dulled by thick muscles and the ever present hum of energy from this ship. Benefactors unnamed would still support him, despite the untold danger he might yet have brought down upon the Kree. To stand against one as strong as Thanos invited death. It was mere fortune that they ( Pietro ) had clung to the stone long enough---- 

                                  “How I---- feel...” A murmur which barely transcends the dull rumble of shifting concrete and steel, the roar of burning fuel. Violet gaze shifts to rest upon the boy, the prodigy, his progeny, and he can still see veins etched black against pale skin, can see slivers of purple still in his irises. RELIEF, he wants to say. Nothing, not even Thanos, had terrified him half so much as the sudden realization that the boy might die. 

                  “Anger,” he says instead, eyes lifting to the star map lazily spinning above them, and it is no lie. He is always angry, always full of cold fury, leeching from his own blackened veins to poison what heart might beat inside of his chest. “Such a setback cannot happen again. Though it would have been worse had it not been for you.” 

          Such an admission is easily given, for it is true, but it is still no LIGHT thing to grant. If not for Pietro, all might have been lost, and they both dead. “What more do you wish me to say? We do not dwell on our wounds in words ; it is not our way.” But I will tell you, this once, if you will it. 

[kreejustice-blog]

kicks

*sneers*

[darkastered-deactivated20160113]

[x]

[kreejustice-blog]

child.

Their gazes met and every fibre of Lestat’s being quivered. He could practically taste the eternity the Elder One had lived. It was intoxicating.

He refused to move when the other other moved closer, body motionless as his eyes tracked the vampire’s movements. Lestat could feel the power and for the briefest moment, wondered what he might see if he reached out to touch the elder vampire’s mind… But even he was not so foolish. Certain destruction was entirely unappealing.

“Je sais beaucoup de choses, Accusateur,” the purr fell shamelessly from the vampire’s lips, fangs gleaming as his smile only grew. His eyes flicked over the vampire in a slow sweep , only locking gazes again when he had taken his fill. “Je l'ai rencontré un autre de votre genre. La mère de la mort – Ahkasha." The vampire tore his gaze away for a moment, drinking in the chamber with a thoughtful hum. 

” Elle m'a montré temps lui-même. Les choses qui ont été cachées. – Comme toi.“ he added, voice cutting through the silence as he focused once more on the elder, ” Comment pourrais-je résister à vous rencontre?“

The mention of his title stilled him, rang in his ears through uncounted centuries, in languages dead or changed. For a moment, despite the strange shimmer of blood seeped into his skin that gave the illusion of life, he appeared as a statue, as carved marble draped in strange clothing from another time. 

But at the mention of the Mother, he moved again, lips curling in a sneer. Teeth that had once been dyed a glittering black, shone like sharpened slivers of ivory, eyes a shade of blue that seemed almost purple burning. Oh, he remembered BURNING more than once because of that devil, the pain of it a live wire inside of his cold flesh. He remembered the way his skin had blackened and sloughed from his bones, remembered the thought that he might die, not in some great battle, but beneath the sanctity of the moon itself. What treachery ; what betrayal. 

Slowly, his lips uncurled, points of fangs showing through the slight part, and the fire died from his gaze. How could I resist meeting you? Ronan could not decide whether he was brave or foolhardy, but it intrigued him. 

“Et êtes-vous déçu? Ou avez-vous venu pour plus de répondre simplement moi?” Question posed in the other’s own tongue, though the fluid roll of French sounded harsh and grating. He would make no apologies ; it was not a language that he spoke often.