Latest Posts by merusfandomcorner - Page 3
“My story has so much gay rep in it!” Awesome. How are you treating your female characters btw
“female characters often have weaker writing compared to male characters” and “audience is unable to appreciate female characters no matter the quality of the writing because they subconsciously see female characters as women first and people second” are two statements that can, should and will coexist
VIKTOR SCENES IN ARCANE (2/?): 1.03. The Base Violence Necessary for Change
Being in a fandom for 20+ years is weird because you’ll see posts like, “How come I never see people mention x” and it’s like. We did. We talked about that a lot, actually. Actually it’s something that came up. And it’s hard not to be like, “Yeah, we discussed this fifteen years ago.” Half of this fandom wasn’t even born when these discussions happened. Wild.
adding highlights to my drawings while not knowing or ignoring where the light source is
![Ralph Fleck (German, 1951), Stapel 27/VII [Stack 27/VII], 2013. Oil On Canvas, 120 X 100 Cm.](https://64.media.tumblr.com/95000203bf9f80683f740d2bf056bb25/a14de9efe5165582-67/s500x750/c48a042a7118f7d7f8bbbb4adc3063acbc65dd82.webp)
Ralph Fleck (German, 1951), Stapel 27/VII [Stack 27/VII], 2013. Oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.
I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met
The Subtle Horror of Evangelion
What keeps us all hooked to Eva time and time again? You get through your initial, confused watch of either Evangelion endgame, probably sometime in your adolescence wondering what the hell it is you just watched. The original source material is suffused with unsettling imagery, and sometimes too-close-for-comfort shorts. It’s so much to process that one watch is never enough. The imagery isn’t enough, however, because the mid-to-late-90s series comes with things you’ll pick up the more you focus on certain characters’ struggles or the interesting world-building. They arise little by little with every re-watch, adding onto what interested you in Eva to begin with.
There’s always that little voice asking you “What it is that really draws me here?”
Oh. The horrors.
The tragedy of it all.
These things never leave you the second you bear witness to them, whether you become aware of them or not. You’re disturbed over it, a tad worried, no doubt, but you’re strangely hooked.
Horror works better on limitation, it’s why found footage capturing pale, ghastly, monstrosities of the deep wood will always stand as exponentially terrifying. While most all of us have taken cracks at Eva’s budget at some point, that’s what really drives these terrors home. Its low budget nature made it work.
Evangelion has commentary which forces a viewer to reflect. Most no one enjoys that. It’s the fear, however, that has its audience come back. Evangelion’s reflection alone isn’t what gives Eva it’s charm decades after its run. It’s the little things, most everyone misses, the anxieties, the terrors, all of it. Most of those things, fly over a lot of fans’ heads.
Buckle up, there’s a lot to go through…. (warning for mentions of abuse, body horror, means of suicide, nudity, blood, and gore)
Continua a leggere
that ship is toxic to YOU. to me it's a complex, multi-layered, essay-worthy dynamic that'd take numerous hours to dissect (during which i'll spend crying screaming tearing my hair out)
I see lots of "let people enjoy things" in fandom but no "it's not the end of the world if people don't like this thing you like, chill out" which is a shame I think fandom could benefit a lot more from the latter than the former
Beco+81 aka Beco Plus81 (Japanese, based Japan) - 星屑まみれ (I am surrounded by Stars), 2023, Drawings: Digital Art
rose of versailles (1972) illustrated by riyoko ikeda
Me, doing my silly little crafts, trying not to fall into a hopeless abyss:
heart - shaped scallion found In pho . reblog for good luck & yummy soup 500000 forwver
I love all the hints at Jean not coping that well with being Acting Grand Master, because to nearly everyone it seems like she is but she just kinda isn't. Like, obviously there's her story quest where she just collapses from overworking herself but there are all these other examples that show that homegirl is not alright.
Like Jean this is not a normal way to consume coffee. This seems a lot more like dependence than "coffee just makes me feel a bit more awake" or just liking the drink.
And like wdym she's completing random reviews at 3am because she got sick (probably from overworking) and then not allowing herself to buy a book. Like that's just sad.
Like bro Mona took one look at Jean's constellation and was like "girl you've had too much on your plate for FAR too long". And then probably realised how depressing that sounded and was like "idk she's like really strong thoughhhh, it's not all baddd"
Like even Kaeya's concerned bro. At least she's got him looking out for her though.
Rosaria is not usually this transparent.
She isn’t Barbara, who wears her heart on her sleeve, or Jean, who does not count lying among her many talents. She isn’t even Kaeya, whose intricate masks and careful dissembling only hold up as long as the wind doesn’t blow too hard.
Rosaria is implacable, unreadable, barely even there. She’s spent enough years learning how to let people’s eyes slide right off her. It turns out that you can wear fishnets and claw rings and people will still let themselves ignore you if you give them the right excuse.
But she has been drinking, tonight — not quite to the edge of tipsy, but close, right on the line where the lights are warmer and the wine is sweeter and the chatter of the bar patrons tips from grating to almost melodic.
And so maybe she lets her eyes linger, just a little, on the broad back and flaming hair of tonight’s bartender.
No one would blame her if they caught the way her gaze flits over to him and away, one stolen glance every couple of minutes. Diluc cuts a dashing figure in his bartender’s uniform: all straight lines and stark contrasts, his red hair bright against the white of his vest. He carries himself with a quiet composure born of physical power and a bank vault full of cash. Half the people in this tavern have been ogling him all evening; she’s still not sure if he’s truly oblivious or willfully blind.
As she watches, he slides a drink over to the Traveler at the end of the bar, waving away the offer of payment. He wipes down the counter with a practiced hand before tossing the cloth over his shoulder once more. Then he turns back, and Rosaria doesn’t look away quite quick enough to stop their gazes from catching and holding.
Diluc’s gaze burns like the embers of a campfire, low and controlled, but with the promise of destruction unleashed. For a long second, he watches her watching him.
Then he smiles.
It’s a different smile from the confident one he gives her in the middle of the night when they’re on a manhunt, or the rueful shouldn’t-have-let-my-guard-down grin he sports when he’s taken an injury he should have been able to dodge.
This smile is small, meant just for her: the corner of his mouth quirks up, boyish and almost shy, and for a moment Rosaria catches a glimpse of the young man who’d brought Mondstadt to its knees.
He’s so godsdamned pretty it makes her throat tight. Despite her better judgement, Rosaria finds herself smiling back.
She suppresses her smile as soon as she registers it — but Kaeya has always been too perceptive for his own good.
“Playing with fire there, Rosaria,” he murmurs once Diluc turns away. He leans an elbow on the bar counter and fixes her with an unreadable smile.
“What do you mean?” she asks evenly, taking a swig of her wine.
Kaeya looks unimpressed by her attempt at deflection. “Falling in love with him is a bad idea.”
“I’m not in love with him,” Rosaria says. She realizes too late that this too is a confession. She ought to have asked who he meant; she’s shown her hand too early.
“Sure,” Kaeya says, serious for once. “But you’re getting there.”
“Am not.”
He shakes his head at her. “I wouldn’t get too close, if I were you. He burns everything he touches.”
Kaeya was her first real friend in Mondstadt. She knows what Diluc did — in broad strokes, if not in detail. It definitely makes her a bad friend that she likes him anyway.
Kaeya’s lone visible eye tracks Diluc’s movement as he weaves his way through the bar, clearing tables. “The thing is, he doesn’t mean to,” he says, his voice low and almost affectionate. “He tries so hard, you know? He’d try, if you asked him to.”
“I’m not asking him shit. There’s nothing going on between us.”
“He just always ends up destroying things anyways,” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken, his fingers tracing lines of frost on the condensation of his glass, his eye still fixed on the back of Diluc’s head. “It tears him apart, but good intentions don’t restore what’s been broken.”
He looks back at her. For a moment she thinks she sees wildfire flames licking at the deep blue of his visible eye, before they resolve into the gentle glow of the lamps that light the Angel’s Share. “I know you’re not going to listen to me,” he says, and smiles mirthlessly. “You can make your own decisions, of course. But be careful, alright? I’d hate to see you hurt in the course of protecting Mondstadt.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Rosaria knows it as soon as it leaves his lips.
Because no matter how bad Diluc is, Rosaria is worse. Kaeya has forgotten that frost burns too.
Diluc is a fine, upstanding citizen, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. Rosaria is a scrappy orphan at the mercy of the Church. Diluc has a bent for justice and a mission to take care of the weak. Rosaria only knows revenge.
Kaeya forgets — or ignores, because he is a good friend, and he cares for her in his own way — that Rosaria deserves nothing but destruction and pain. Everything she has received from Mondstadt has been at the cost of its citizens. She owes a debt she can never repay; if she takes some injury in the course of protecting this country, it will simply be what she deserves.
She lays a hand on Kaeya’s arm and watches him jolt. “Getting burned is part of the job.”
“Of protecting Mondstadt?” He sounds skeptical. “The nation has never asked that of you.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Someone’s gotta do it. Don’t act like you haven’t sacrificed for Mondstadt too.”
“Oh, I won’t pretend I haven’t,” he says lightly. “But I’m a hedonist, you know — I’ll always pick pleasure over pain.”
She laughs, opting not to call him on this obvious lie. “I guess that makes me a masochist, because I don’t care if I get hurt.”
“I care,” he mutters, then sighs. “Look, you’re a grown-up. If you want to flirt with the sun, I won’t stop you. I just reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when your wax wings go up in smoke.”
“I’ll be careful,” Rosaria promises.
(Across the tavern, Diluc laughs at something Venti says, low and rolling and resonant. The eyes of half of Mondstadt follow the sound, and Rosaria has never been one to go with the crowd, but in this and this only—)
Kaeya rolls his eyes, shrugging her hand off his arm. “No, you won’t.”
“No,” she agrees, and grins. “I won’t.”