#yeah romanticism

[magicomens]

Ah yes. Anthony Justdontgetstabbed Crowley.

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[rollercoasterwords]

i hate u female rage i hate u divine feminine i hate u female gaze i hate u feminine energy i hate u gender essentialism poorly repackaged as progressive or revolutionary or in any way subversive....

[achillesreborn]

all sexy bitches r uncomfortable w physical affection there i said it

[tomwambsgans]

are these assaults gonna be ongoing?

[britneyshakespeare]

You versus the guy she tells you not to worry about

[juneacademia]

you were, foolishly, fatally, more special to me than i ever was to you.

[menlove]

we've gotta start romanticizing topping more bc the amount of ppl who want to fuck but don't on tumblr is unprecedented and they all think they're bottoms bc they've never had sex. I thought I'd be a bottom before I had sex and it turns out absolutely not and topping is 10000% more enjoyable for me

please we have to romanticize the strap it's so fun

[overheard-at-camp-half-blood]

It makes me cringe that certain “Greek myth experts” read the myth where Hades kidnaps Persephone with intentions to forcibly marry her but draw the line at Hades cheating on Persephone in PJO because “omg, they were the healthiest couple in Greek mythology 😞.”

There are so many other things in the series to be mad at too.

[theslowesthnery]

>watching a buckshot roulette gameplay video >have the idle random thought of "i wonder if anyone's written porn or shippy fic of the dealer (who is just a creepy face with empty eyesockets and a big sharp-toothed mouth, plus a pair of hands)" >check >people have

sometimes i love people

[fumifooms]

You're always so on point with your posts. On that note, it made me realize that; Considering the themes of desires in DunMeshi. It's also to say that what you think you want isn't what you actually want.

Like, Marcille thinks she wants the handsome prince from the novels she reads... But what she actually wants is someone maybe more like her father who she admired so much. Kind, virtuous, caring to a fault, a family man. Things she later finds in Chilchuck.

Because as traumatizing as it was to see her mother's spiral after her father's death; Her memories of her father itself are some of the most important to her. And it fits with her pursuit to increase her loved ones' lives, because she does want what her mother and father had.

Sipping. I do go over ‘what you think you want vs what you actually want + what you need’ in my (upcoming) Marcille & Chil arc analysis ;) It’s a part of Dunmeshi that I really like and is super fascinating, I’d honestly like to make an analysis-post on the topic: all the different threads and characters in canon that reflect that, desires vs wants and themes of idealization in Dunmeshi, but it’s one of those things that’s just so huge to make. See this is the freaking problem with doing Dunmeshi meta you start talking about the themes or a narrative and everything is so interwoven you get distracted with tangents BUT IT’S ALL COMPELLING AND RELEVANT

I know that’s something laimar does a lot too, the dad thing, with Marcille in a post-canon comic knitting beside him paralleling her parents and whatnot. I don’t know if I fully agree on the angle but there’s definitely stuff to dig at there…

Like I know that I’d like to analyze Marcille’s succubus more, it comes up in my analysis draft but it’s not the point I’m trying to make there so I focus on other stuff but… I always saw the focus of Marcille’s succubus as that she sought out an emotional connection most of all, it’s romantic and courtly in nature but more importantly there’s personality and behavior there and it’s a character she already loves and knows deeply from having read the series, so it’s not like Chil where it’s just a pretty face whose identity doesn’t matter. A friend of mine though, @room-surprise, goes with the angle that it shows she isn’t ready for a relationship and that the appeal is very self-centered, and I def think compelling points are made…

Point I was trying to make, the succubus is definitely at the crux of figuring what it is Marcille wants and craves in someone I’d say, where she’s emotionally at wether consciously or subconsciously, or how she sees herself being involved in romance at least… It’s true Marcille is enthusiastic about romance, but always someone else’s, never hers, and she seems unwilling to examine her own relationships with people. She oversteps boundaries either obliviously or carelessly and doesn’t like change…

and then there’s how complex people’s relationship to fiction can be on top of that and graaaaah

Edit in bc I forgot I wanted to mention this like an idiot: OH and I do think the Daltian Clan serves a role in the general tapestry of Dunmeshi as well, sometimes in in depth ways that Room-Surprise will tackle in their research paper way better than me I’m sure. My understanding of the importance of general Hagreus in a more general narrative sense is that he reinforces the theme of idealization/fantasy vs reality that’s super present through the manga. Beyond just Marcille’s arc and his importance to her he’s designed uncannily close to Mithrun, it feels parallels of real elves and their very flawed military system and the broken people it cultivates vs the romanticized elves put on an aesthetic pedestral in novels, especially considering it’s "general" Hagreus

To give some previews of the analysis wip: Thus the succubus targets Marcille’s wish for a perfect knight who could cherish her forevermore, someone safe and known and fantastical, just hers in a way, free to see and construct however she wants because he’s a character to interpret Dungeon Meshi is in part about resisting desires, the irrational cravings, mostly through the character of the demon. I mentioned needs earlier, and to ideals vs wants we also add vs needs, both emotional and physical. And needs alongside wants are what Dungeon Meshi wishes to promote for a healthier person. Dungeon Meshi illustrates very well with the dungeon lords that you can be a slave to your desires. Dunmeshi prones the important of balance for both a healthy body and a healthy mind, and the arc of optimism vs pessimism with Marcille & Chilchuck is one such case <3

Ouuuugh how flawed relationships with flawed people can still be made into somehing good and healthy that make the world brighter…

We’ve gone far from the topic of how her family shaped what she seeks in relationships haha, I think you put it well already though I don’t have much to add on that front Edit in 2: SIKE! I’ll add that there’s an interesting thread in the manga of Marcille maturing and becoming more like her mother, which would be interesting and fun to pair with the fatherhood of Chil. Because Marcille is sometimes a mother figure as well: she’s the mom friend. I go over it here, and since when I made that post I’ve seen more interesting analysis on the topic too, like noticing she hides behind her mother’s portrait in the nightmare chaoter, perhaps the inspiration behind her more mature reserved academic persona she sometimes has. Her parents are def important to her so it’s interesting to see how all the dynamics and her own psychology fit into that….

But yeah I think what she (thinks she) wants out of romance has a lot of layers, both conscious and subconscious… I haven’t gone into the bigger picture of how fiction affects her relationship here but it’s the central topic of my Marcille & Chil arc analysis so. She idealizes the trope of the prince charming and finds it attractive but is that what she would actually latch onto… Is it fully superficial, is it more about herself than it is about her potential partner... Is it mainly because she wants to get validation, from being special that she typically gets from high academic performance… We do see she can be rather insecure and worried about others’ perspective of her, that they think she’s not useful or capable enough, especially in the mandrake chapter… Unconditional love perhaps

What is your emotional landscape Marcille. How emotionally intelligent are you. I don’t think she knows what she wants romantically. I think she has a job so she don’t really care about that rn I’m just not sure if we can figure out what she ~actually~ wants on her behalf that might be too many levels of interpretation but idk idk, thinking on it still

[acatpiestuff]

remember years ago when i would draw grillby almost every day lmao

[oh-honey-styles]

Ok I’m sorry for the rant but… the Idea of You movie getting good reviews is so— like please can someone chalk it up to the amazing actors and the fact that there are raunchy sex scenes because WHY are we making a film about a middle aged woman’s sexual awakening happening with a guy 16 years younger than her? Like why is that the gotcha of this movie? When men do it they’re nasty and predators and the Leo DiCaprio butt of a joke, but for women it’s “blossoming” and “finally receiving the love they deserve”? I just need a journalist to look at this movie and bffr. Feminism needs to stop being let women do whatever shitty men do because women and men are equal. Because we’re not equal, we’re better.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Everytime im on Tik Tok there's always an slide show like: "you want good female characters in media but you coudn't handle her!" And is the most annoying character ever like, Sakura or some shit like that.

Dude, i don't hate them because they have vaginas, i hate them cause they're assholes (and im not even gonna mention those characters that get the "hot girl" pass) and don't even come at me saying like "oh she have trauma" cause then im gonna bring out the "everyone got dead people" speech from Guardians of the Galaxy, i don't give a shit.

Sorry if i don't respect the trauma of this fictional character, maybe i would care if they were a bit more sympathetic but they just chose to be a jerk to everyone for no reason other than "i went trought bad stuff as a kid" like, oh yeah? Me too, half of the country did but im not a killer because of that! This is why i always liked the heroes more than the villains (most of them at least) cause despite being trought literal hell, they keep being good and doing good stuff to people

(Before you ask, yes that was directly pointed at Catra and on the "femme fatale" troupe as a whole, cause i really dislike that troupe for the sole reason that those hoes never get jumped by the protagonist at some point)

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[graysbullshit]

Dark Academia could become an incredibly relevant subculture if some of yall were less aesthetic focused and more critical of the elitist racist nature of academia and more combatent of anti-intelectualism...

[earl-grey-crow]

it’s me, hi, I’m the white witch, it’s me