#Imperial Life

[imperiallife]

Tastes of the Empire: The Feast of Prosperity, a True Culinary Adventure!

Food by Jaa Val-Izen Cyone

Honey-glazed K'lor'slug beckons Feast-goers with the succulent sweet-savory flesh of its legs and tail.

Oh, to have the fortune to patronize Nar Shaddaa these past glorious weeks! What an inspired festival has come to the planet - and as a melting pool of exotic beings, cultures, and flavors, there is no better place for it!

I speak, of course, of the Feast of Prosperity, the culinary creation of Hutt partners Gaboorga and Duuba. Equally part charity, part five-star Mch'lin Platter pop-up restaurant, part galactic safari, and part dinner theatre, the Feast beckons everyone from every background to attend. And how it delivers!

A true shame that Imperial Life's occasional food critic Alaric Faro could not be bothered to provide a full review of the cuisine on offer this time last year ... despite being a food critic. I could not let readers down, and I am pleased to report that a round-trip cruise to Nar Shaddaa this season would not be poorly timed!

The exclusive skyrise dining experience is a-whirl with groan-worthy scents and tastes!

The height of the feast's culinary creations populate a limited menu of five plates curated by none other than Head Chef Popotis himself! With such plates as Roast Bog Snarler featuring succulently crisped skin and sweet tubers; luminescent Swamp Lentil Soup steeped with earthy glowshooms, cream, and savory oils; or the "Full Huttese" Breakfast Platter of delectable grophet bacon, soft-boiled nuna eggs, spiced n' diced desert tubers, and "2D" flatcakes with stewed vormfruit and snow-sugar, there is something to fit every palate! If you come with a Hutt-sized appetite, you can opt for the course menu instead of a la carte, and have the privilege of sampling each and every dish.

For the select and fortunate few - those privileged enough to contribute to the the Hutts' fundraising efforts - an even more exclusive dining experience is on offer. Head Chef Popotis has acquired the rarest of ingredients for his most delectable appetizers in the donors' lounge: savory rancor liver spread, electric crysfang chromatophore plates, and tender orlax hearts on the side of rare-strain kibla greens dressed with sunseed drizzle. These samplers wouldn't be complete, of course, without miniature crisp-pastries filled with wraid ampulla jelly, fried ice cat whiskers decking salted caramel orbs, Dantooine cheeses garnished with parasitic clingmoss and glowfruits, or thermal-boundary softnut soups topped with the captivating subtelty of nova-yellow poola blossom threads.

If the accessibility of Popotis' exclusive menus is a sticking point, then you get to experience the Adventure Kitchen at Bog's Bounty Banquet Hall where apprentice chefs re-enact the master chef's favorites - with their own regional flair, of course! And possibly also constrained by ingredients not yet fetched by the adventurers-for-hire. But fear not, each plate is crafted under the expert tutelage of Popotis' own J4-SN chef droid, affectionately nicknamed, "Jason."

Chef droid "Jason" lurks over the work of apprentice chefs. Beware its spinning blades!

Like the exclusive menu, the Adventure Menu is also limited, and just to two meals at any given time. Wander in and out of the Feast grounds over the course of a week to sample Jellied Glowshroom Stew, Spicy Nexu Supreme, Exotic Medley Delight, Braised Scyk Belly, or the Ultimate Galactic Sampler. The randomness of the ingredients ensures that each taste experience will be perfectly unique! Your Spicy Nexu Supreme might one day consist of painfully tender grilled nexu tongue over enticingly charred, sweet vormfruit with rich primeval marrow butter and a thick, chunky nexu gravy ... while another day will see your grilled nexu paired with melt-in-your-mouth bekbek root mash - or crisped fries! - and salted ice sauce with cooling crystal bits to help offset that spicy kick. Your Glowshroom Stew might be a shroom-lover's delight, packed with nothing but earthy blue and green shroomflesh in a thick, creamy just-iced gel ... or it could be an unexpected carnivore's dream with delectably fatty scyk belly and surprise choice of fruit to brighten the dish! Likewise, your Galactic Sampler could take you on a vegetarian tour of the lushest garden planets, or surprise you with the sliminess of vel slug, the crispy tenderness of scyk belly, and the dense luxury of nexu - all on the same plate! Your sauces might be savory or tangy, thick or thin, creamy or icy! Your spices could be any combination of savory Gloambean sauce, brain-bending Black Hole pepper, tingly Comet Dust, or even Jason's secret seasoning. The surprise is sure to compel you back for another taste!

Enjoy all that as the Hutts stage a cooking duel as the event's finale, with a taste-off between the sophistication of Chef Popotis and the rival homemade, nostalgic goodness of Chef Nuura Yendo. Who might the winner be? You'll just have to visit to find out!

It takes the heart of an adventurer to brave the Feast of Prosperity!

Jaa Val-Izen Cyone represents a fresh and inspired look at the finest of Imperial cuisine - and of cuisines across the Galaxy! Multi-talented and multi-opinionated, his is the reliable, down-to-earth word any reader of Imperial Life can trust. Unafraid to sample even the most outlandish dishes, Jaa travels far and wide to taste flavors from the most homely to the most sophisticated. If it's a fair shake you need, look no further than Jaa Cyone - soon to be the most trusted culinary word on the street.

[pop-sesivo]

Imperial Life. Arte por Edouard Groult.

[blithe-imperial-underling]

How much do Imperials get paid

"Imperials" covers an awful lot of ground. For the sake of clarity, I am going to assume you mean the rank and file Imperial roles.

For a vast majority of us, the pay and perks combined are better than anything else we would have otherwise had available to us.

Consider the Stormtrooper Corps. Many in its ranks come from outer rim planets, with limited resources. Where else would they find a job that promises steady pay, housing, meals, uniforms, equipment, training, and travel?

As a bonus, each and every one of us in Imperial employ has the potential to play a role, however small, in the ongoing mission to bring peace and order to the galaxy.

You won't become wildly rich on the pay of any Imperial position. But the Empire is the most stable employer in known space. After all, there's no shortage of work for any Imperial citizen willing to do their part.

[dangerousyako]

Love Ancillary Justice it's all Breq showing up places "I'm Breq an impossibly cool and ultracompetent expressionless determinator with inhuman reflexes on a two-decades-long revenge quest. And this is Seivarden, I just found her in the trash and she has nothing to do with my plans. No I don't like her and she doesn't like me either. We are not to be separated."

[mythosaursarecool]

Image what we could of had if Disney weren’t COWARDS! Anyways this took exactly 10hrs 14minutes so enjoy

Mando and Mythos doing some Imp hunting. Mythos likes the challenge of some her-size enemies

[panimoonchild]

"Don't escalate" - they said

Say that fucking Russians for who peace talks never work. Especially now, when aid to Ukraine keeps postponing. 

Today, my hands are shaking and my heart hurts, even though it shouldn't. The fear of the number of human victims because of Russia is killing me. 

Please keep spreading our voices and donate to our army and combat medics (savelife.in.ua, prytulafoundation.org, Serhii Sternenko, hospitallers.life, ptahy.vidchui.org and u24.gov.ua).

The Ukrainian mental health is held on this every day. 

Yes, please don't be ignorant. Ukrainians need that energy and hope boost to hold on now.

[liesmyth]

My Coronabeth Dominant Twin manifesto is simple and it's as follows: there's no way the twins could have planned for Canaan House.

John requesting new Lyctors wasn't something anyone in the Houses would've expected to happen in their lifetimes with any meaningful probability. This means that when the Tridentarii started the double necromancer ruse, they expected to carry on for life. It was an arrangement that benefited Corona vastly more than Ianthe.

What Ianthe got out of it, as far as we know: Corona would rule Ida, which she isn't keen on (as per NtN). But it also meant that Ianthe signed up for a life in her sister's shadow, with everyone regarding Corona as the perfect heir and Ianthe as the lame spare. Worse, for Ianthe, everyone believed Corona was the better flesh magician (as per As Yet Unsent). There's a lot more in for Corona in this arrangement and a lifetime of mild humiliation for Ianthe. As we see during the reveal in GtN, she was just dying to tell anyone that SHE is the necromantic genius of the pair, actually.

On their relationship with Babs: in GtN, Gideon notices that Babs obeys Ianthe's orders over Corona's. She also notices that Corona looks shocked about this — to me, this means that it's NOT something Coronabeth is used to. Pre-Canaan House, they are equals in their ruse. At Canaan House, it becomes obvious that if Ianthe ascends she'll leave Corona in the dust, and their relationship has to change. I don't think the way they act around each other from Canaan House onwards is at all representative of their relationship back on the Third, and I don't think Babs deferring to Ianthe over Corona is something that has happened often before, if at all.

There's the bit where Corona routinely threatened suicide to get her way since they were teenagers. In NtN she's doing it to save Camilla's life, but she reminisces fondly about it like it was something she did often to get her way, like it was a fun mind game they played with each other.

You've also got Ianthe calling Corona a bimbo and insulting her and whatever, and me arguing that Corona pulled the few strings doesn't make Ianthe good but as things stand I'm much more inclined to believe that, before Ianthe attained Lyctorhood, Corona was the one in charge — and I’m also firmly convinced that she’s using BoE for her own ends, and we’ll see her Fuck Shit Up in AtN.

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[nemainofthewater]

If there was ever a character who you'd want to give you a hug, these ones are it.

You know the saying: some are born a big brother, some become a big brother, and some have big brother status thrust upon them.

Write-ins, propaganda, and images are welcome!

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[imperiallife]

Tastes of the Empire: The Feast of Prosperity, Culinary Sham

Food by Alaric Faro

I suppose it was only a matter of time before I was asked to pay a visit to the so-called ‘Feast of Prosperity’ in order to assess and offer my opinions on the meals to be found there, though frankly I believe my doing so is a greater act of charity than anything that the pair of hutts responsible for the so-called charitable event have managed to achieve.

For those readers who have been living under a rock for the past few weeks, this ‘Feast’ describes itself as a ‘lavish banquet’ aimed at securing funds and food for the galaxy’s less fortunate, but to anyone with even a lick of common sense it reeks of being nothing more than another front for Cartel activities and shady business. Why anybody would wish to humor these hutts by believing their claims of charity is anyone’s guess, but I attempted to engage with the event with an open mind and focus my thoughts specifically on the offered food itself.

Unfortunately, upon attending the event in person, I found myself immediately accosted by the hutts themselves, which, while somewhat bold of them to be present in person, did not exactly fill me with confidence to discover how desperate they were for assistance in virtually every aspect of their Feast. (I would like to point out that I did, naturally, attend under a false name, and they had no reason to believe that I knew my way around a gourmet kitchen). And herein lies the problem. The hosts, Gaboorga the Abundant and Duuba the Magnanimous, are taking on quite literally every set of hands that come their way, for better or worse, and believe me when I say it is more often for the worse. Whatever the reason; criminals hoping to rub shoulders with the Cartel, agents attempting to infiltrate operations, maybe even misguided souls actually drawn in by the spectacle of charity, beings of all manner appear to be flocking to the hutts’ bidding, and are placed in various roles at complete random.

The most disrespectful big game hunt I've ever witnessed.

Fetching ingredients (don’t get me started on the way crowds are flocking to remote locations and absolutely ravaging the landscapes for the sake of a fistful of credits, if that), negotiating for chefs (whom I have observed more often standing by the hutts’ sides than working in the kitchens), pushing for the event to be hosted in other locations, operating serving droids, and… truly, the deepest offense of all, working the kitchens.

I almost wish I hadn’t set foot in those kitchens.

You must imagine my shock to see the state of the place. Ingredients stored and scattered with no regard for hygiene. I could have wept to see the vormfruit being prepared on the same bench as bone marrow. Raw meat hung above the cooking station. Stove temperatures fluctuating so wildly that a bucket of ice crystals was kept on hand just to manage the overheated pots… a bucket sitting beside the flash freezer, not inside it, so that the melting crystals might just pool across the floor and create both a health and a safety hazard in one fell swoop. Not to mention the fact that reliance on a flash freezer at all is downright criminal. Then, of course, there was the vegetable selection… The same. Cursed. Vegetable selection. Utilized for absolutely every meal. I would say I mean no offense but in truth, I mean it in full when I state that labeling it a ‘medley’ does not turn a poorly cut blend of common garden vegetables into fine cuisine. More than once, I witnessed a frustrated volunteer fling food out into the dining crowd. I can’t even count the number of times I saw volunteers bring their pets into the kitchen. And it seemed to be the standard, in the name of ‘efficiency’, to quite literally hurl ingredients onto the grill from across the room. The absolute disregard for the craftsmanship of meal preparation, for the art of cooking, brought me near to tears.

How many health code violations can exist within a single room?

Perhaps some of this may have been avoided by having the kitchens run by a true, Imperially trained chef, rather than a cooking droid, and an outdated model at that. No algorithm in the galaxy can adequately substitute a human tongue, and the cooking methods I observed were proof of that. Rather than actually preparing meals with forethought, taking the necessary time to ensure ingredients were present in appropriate quantity, were spiced or marinated as needed beforehand, had the correct cuts prepared… oh, how the list goes on… well. In lieu of any actual technique, ingredients were simply lumped together, had their consistency or chemical composition analyzed by said robotic chef, and then any shortcomings were compensated for by the addition of supposedly ‘balancing’ ingredients, regardless of whether they formed any actual component of the meal. Larvae brains, a delicacy and a showpiece when treated with care, were used as little more than a thickening agent. Soz juice… soz juice! A dressing, at best, was heaped into boiling pots regardless of the contents. Nexu tongue should only ever be slow cooked, and when treated with care stands on its own without seasoning… not the triple-doses of black hole pepper that seemed to be standard practice for Emperor only knows what reason.

Frankly, by the time Gaboorga’s gala dinner rolled around, I couldn’t stomach another minute of the grimy, haphazard, utterly unprofessional event that’s left Nar Shadda’s Promenade smelling like a trash compactor. I cannot truly advise you loyal readers on what the meals on offer are actually like; I can merely speculate, and frankly, you couldn’t pay me enough to do more than that.

Imperial Life’s top food critic, Alaric Faro is a name both respected and feared by culinary establishments throughout the Seat of the Empire. Astute and enigmatic, his tongue is as refined as it is sharp, honed to appreciate the most exquisite of dining experiences and to thoroughly dismantle anything that falls short. Originally a columnist for a variety of holozines but now writing exclusively for Imperial Life, he considers it his life’s mission to ‘educate the palate of all Imperial citizens’.

[digital-cyclone]

OH MY GOD I literally haven’t posted in months !!!

I’m gonna be honest I’ve left the WoF and warriors fandoms, so for a while I had no motivation to draw but recently I made a flight rising acc so I’m back!

Anyways this is Ruby. I really wanna write lore for my clan but I have no idea where to start so lmk if you guys have any tips 🙏

[nando161mando]

[taibhsearachd]

Look, I know there's probably a good use for the term among sociologists and etc... but every single time I've run into someone using the phrase "imperial core", they are using it either to dismiss the suffering of people in the US bc other people have it worse, or they are actively celebrating that the US is experiencing something shitty that developing countries regularly have to deal with.

...either way, my main experience with the term is "I either don't care or actively celebrate when people suffer because they are privileged compared to those in third world countries", and my god, I hate them so much.

[i-merani]

A Georgian man was killed by Russian occupiers on our own territory because he crossed an occupation line and literally no one will be held accountable because as always Russia gets its way silently killing Georgians for decades

[adxmanial]

after One(1) year almost, des finally scattered into good colors and I finished his accent and I am kissing him and kissing him and kissing him and -