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[oh-my-divine]

Attack On Titan is a Work of Love

Something I’m always in awe of, is how love is depicted in Attack On Titan. Mostly, because it feels realistic and relatable. Love isn’t always the big, over-the-top Romeo and Juliet type.

Love is Eren wrapping a scarf around Mikasa.

Armin regularly going to see Annie.

Love is Levi and Hanji knowing each other so well, they’re able to communicate without the need for words.

Historia trusting Ymir so much, that she was the first one she revealed her real name to.

Love isn’t always flowers and big confessions like the ones we see in movies or media. Daily, human love lays in the detail. It’s in consistency, in those little day-to-day gestures a person can have with another. it’s in waiting for your partner with a nice meal at home, in sharing a moment of comfort, in understanding eachother by just looking into one another’s eyes. it’s in protecting and caring and nurturing and motivating.

And it’s why love in Attack On Titan will always feel real. Palpable. Beautifully subtle.

To me, it will always be grounbreaking how, in a world so full of hatred, Isayama managed to create so many unbreakable bonds of the most imperfectly pure love, and how he was able to explore love in all of its different phases and colors.

Love between brothers/family:

Love between friends:

Idolatry (the tpye of love that makes you go blind)

Unrequited love:

Grief (the loss of someone you loved):

New-found love:

It will always be close to my heart, how Attack On Titan shows love at every corner, in every frame: in words of hope, in helping somebody who struggles, in the will to protect somebody at the highest of costs, in the joking and teasing in affectionate ways. It’s all there, in the small, in what the eye doesn’t always see. It’s always been.

So, even when Attack On Titan can be seen as a work of war and life and death and how the evil parts of the human world work, to me, it will forever be a work I remember for being overflowed with love, too.

[oh-my-divine]

Want to do it again?

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[Digital Art, Clip Studio Paint]

[January 18, 2022]

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Meme redraw! (original from HIMYM) Armin thirdwheeling will never not be funny to me

[oh-my-divine]

[ID:  Do you like me?

                 

Mom says I love

you every time I 

ask if she likes me.

   

  This is a short story, it begins with a womb and ends with rage filled 

     love, it begins with a screaming and raging evening and ends with a

     heavy silence at the dinner table. My mother loves me, and there is

     nothing more to say. I love my mother, and there is nothing more to 

     say. I pray and pray that I don't become her someday. And there is

     nothing more to say. 

 

   -Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

END ID]

[oh-my-divine]

I think now that queens dead they should have her stuffed and put on display in Cairo for the next 150 years.

[oh-my-divine]

in the US we only have 3 genders. american beauty, american psycho, and american pie

[oh-my-divine]

putting “lying to kids is ok” on the table immediately looks bad. but theres nuance. because kids deserve to have as much context and respect as anyone else you live with. but also. telling them that leaving doors open will make ants carry away the entire house is necessary until their brains can quantify the heating&air bill

[oh-my-divine]

Among all places in the world, I think The Louvre museum fits me the most. I am pretty. I am rare. People can stare at me for hours, love me for the colors and the features. People would love to stare at my facade.

I am pretty enough to be adored, not pretty enough to be loved. Maybe I am not as exciting as it may seems. Maybe I am not as colorful as I tend to be. Maybe I am a Potemkin village; I am pretty from the outside, and a ruin on the inside. And that’s who I am.

I always say, “oh, good for them,” whenever someone leaves me for someone else; be it a lover, a friend, a parent. Because I believe I’m not actually worth it. I’m not worth your time and effort. “Please, only adore me from afar,” because I am much prettier if you don’t know who I am. Ignorance is a bliss.

Even sometimes I hope someone would love me as a whole.

[oh-my-divine]

I am either being insane or telling people to stay sane. Most of the time I’m both.

[oh-my-divine]

In a garden of roses, I am a pebble. I am hidden under the shades of red, I am one with dirt. I’ve seen the roses and their thorns, their petals and its scent, their lives and deaths. Someone always come to our garden, pick one of the roses they adores, take it home to put them inside a pretty vase. One someone, two someone, three someone ... the roses always get picked.

Maybe someday, someone will come to our garden to find a pebble big enough to kill a squirrel. Maybe I will get picked. To kill.

[oh-my-divine]

Paul Mescal in Normal People (2020) and Joe Alwyn in Conversations With Friends (2022)

[oh-my-divine]

Bernhard Schlink, The Reader (translated by Carol Brown Janeway)

[oh-my-divine]

Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″

[oh-my-divine]

One of the best visually striking movie to ever exist

~ Van Gogh’s nights - most gifs come from the movie Loving Vincent (2017)

[oh-my-divine]

I was a gifted child. Until I wasn't. I was the golden girl. Until I couldn't burn anymore.

My parents expected me to build wings of gold and fly further than anyone could ever try. I don't blame them, having a child to raise is like sculpting a clay pot, you can shape it the way you like, paint it the colour you fancy. To raise a child is to play God. To raise a child is to be God.

But to be a child is to fall, to make mistakes, to fail. The thing about being too bright at an early age means you burn out by the time you're 16 and suddenly the world around you becomes more gray and terribly, terribly lonely. The fire is never warm enough, nothing is ever enough. And one day you find yourself begging to a godless sky, begging for a new spark.

I was a gifted child once. I was the golden girl. And one day, I burned out.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

[oh-my-divine]

Oh! Bought a book too. Funny because last night at the exact same hour I was crying and bawling my eyes out. I’m back being the MPDG me.

[oh-my-divine]

I've just finished (re)watching Paper Towns because I suddenly remember that Ayla told me I, somehow, resemble Margo Spiegelman. She told me I am also Marianne Sheridan and Charlotte Regan before. Funny because ... well?

Back then in the past, someone ever said to me that I also resemble Cinta from AADC and Summer Finn from 500 Days of Summer. Someone also told me I am Clementine Kruczynski (her name is so hard to spell for no reason, damn). Funny because if I draw a line between those characters, I find one trait all of them have: strong willed. All of them are like, rock headed, and I don’t know is that a good thing or not?

Talking about Margo Spiegelman, I also find some similarities between me and her: we are both perceived as something grand and precious, and it’s tiring. We’re both regular girls, even sometimes we think differently, impulsively, and out of our mind. We both want to be seen as we are.

And maybe, as fragile as mom sees me, some people look at me like I’m a bold opinionated woman. Maybe I am what they think about me. Maybe I am somewhere between fragile and as hard as diamond. Maybe I am dynamic and no scale, no line can define me; I’m changing from time to time.

Also, who the fuck wrote my last night’s post? Who would want to be a Sylvia Plath if they can be a Haruki Murakami: old, never seen a woman in his life, is obsessed with t-shirt and running, calls self-sabotaging as way of life, and has millions book copies sold around the world? People would buy his book to mention, “Ah, I like Murakami. I’ve read Norwegian Wood,” and to non-bookster, they would think, “Wow what a great choice!”

Anyway, no matter how sad last night was, I made 8km morning jog today and it was magical. I came home to fall asleep in front of my notebook and got mad crying at mid-noon thinking I will meet psychiatrist again ... but I managed to get through those shits. Face shaved, full skincare routine, scrubbed my lips, and took some selfies before I turned the light off (I looked pretty). I will wake up much earlier again tomorrow, probably 4am, for even earlier morning jog. I love morning jogs.

[oh-my-divine]

Marguerite Duras, from The Lover

Text ID: I've never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door.