Something I like about dungeon Meshi is that it explores a conflict in human nature that is usually either avoided or played for laughs, which is: how much individualism in the pursuit of your own comfort is acceptable, how much is even feasible?
Like Izutsumi is stubbornly independent and self serving to a fault, and yes it’s sometimes played for comedy because this series has a lot of comedy, but it also interrogates how much of that is healthy. After years of slavery and the violation of her bodily autonomy, it’s no wonder she just wants to do Her Own Thing, but people aren’t meant for that sort of solitary lifestyle, and if she wants to reap the benefits of other people she has to make compromises. The desire to live by your own whims is natural, especially when she’s been in a position of having total obedience expected in return for having her basic needs and no freedom but. The balance is something she has to learn to navigate.
And Laios, as lovable as he is, also represents another angle of this—he’s fine with cooperating with other people towards a common goal, and even is happy to put his neck out for his loved ones, but he struggles with navigating boundaries and has to figure out how those work to maintain his relationships and form new ones. It is hard for some people and you can get badly burned if you don’t understand them but overstepping peoples boundaries, no matter how innocently intentioned, is a form of harm you have to learn to avoid, or at least to mitigate. Like no, it’s not okay to try to count a teenage girl’s nipples even if it is your special interest. There is a racial aspect to the way he treats Toshiro. The fact that people don’t always tell him that there is a problem until it’s reached a breaking point is a fault on their side too, but Laios doesn’t always accept peoples boundaries even when they’re set—his attitude towards Izutsumi refusing the mandrake and not trying to understand why his behavior in the sauna was inappropriate is emblematic of this.
People live in societies and they bring their own baggage with them and no matter how understandable or benign their attitudes are ultimately you have to figure out how to balance your needs and comfort against the needs and comfort of others. Some behaviors and attitudes aren’t morally wrong in and of themselves (disliking working with others, not understanding other people’s feelings) but you are responsible for how you react when that hurts someone else.
The friction between individualism and communalism is something we spend our whole lives navigating!
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pedro pascal doesn’t owe you shit.
it is absolutely fine to be disappointed by his absence at cannes. i am too. but he does not have to be there.
for whatever reason he’s pulling away from the attention. the esquire article talked about how guarded he is and his socials have really slowed down. maybe he’s unprepared or overwhelmed by all the tlou hype. i mean his follower count went up by the tens of thousands the day after the premiere. that’s insane.
but some of you have lost the plot. the ones wearing d*ddy’s little girl shirts in fucking public and yelling d*ddy at him at events and trying to convince everyone whether he’s queer or not and complaining there isn’t an explicit scene of him fucking in the strange way of life. it’s not a gay porn made for your fetish. ‘oh but narcos!!’ that’s called characterization. read literally any article from almodovar and understand why sex isn’t the point.
interacting with paparazzi content and making cute little edits - jfc. that’s creating demand and supply and paparazzi know no fucking boundaries. man’s got anxiety and no doubt the paps and fans watching his every move are probably making that worse.
let him make movies and rotate through his four shirts in peace. pedro pascal doesn’t owe anyone shit.
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one little detail i find a little unhinged about cersei for a reason i can’t 100% put my finger on but i might speculate is how. in a world where names are important and families typically seem to either repeat family names or at least styles of names, name children after family and friends out of respect and/or in memoriam, or at the very least seem to have some form of regional naming styles and traditions they draw from. i find it wild that we can fully extrapolate the fact that cersei chose the name joffrey back when she was expecting to marry rhaegar - because it’s an old targaryen name and she’s from the other fucking side of the country and her family has no ties to any famous joffreys - and then just. never changed it. even after he fucking died and she married his political/romantic (but for a different woman) rival. mormon coded of her.
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Echo’s world has gone decidedly… wobbly. Blurry. Fuzzy at the edges, and what-will-you-else. He can’t feel his fingertips, is his first thought. Kriffing overdid it on the glowing green shots, is his second.
“Holy kriff, Echo, that manhole-cover underneath you is moving!”, Fives exclaims, third. Or more like slurs into Lt. Jesse’s shoulder, who is himself moaning indistinctly into the Captain’s pauldron, who is in turn swaying back and forth gesturing at Commander Cody.
And it really is - the manhole cover, that is, once Echo stumbles off it with a shriek. Jumping up into the now open air with sudden force, steadying and then scraping across paveme-
“Are those kriffing hands?!”
In an instant, seven highly drunk pairs of fists and one blaster, courtesy of Commander Cody (the only one present who’s sober enough to be legally handling it) are aimed in a circle around the cover slowly being shuffled to the side, then the hands reaching up to palm at the edges of the hole -
- and are slowly being lowered again when two white-red painted helmets are heaved into view, along with chest-deep groaning and grunting. Two armored Corries collapse in a heap at Commander Cody’s feet, who stares down at them in open-mouthed shock.
Slowly, Echo blinks. Slowly, he raises a hand to snap his fingers in front of his face. No, still there. Slowly, Fives grabs for a piece of flank underneath his blacks and twists. Echo yelps, and slaps his hand away hard enough to hurt himself. “OI!”
“B’have, boys”, Captain Rex makes a brave attempt to slur out as he sways on his feet, still staring down at the trembling heap of armor at their feet. Whoa, Echo didn’t know they had those kinds of funky armor designs in the Guard. Very avant-garde.
“That’s blood, Ey’ika”, says Appo.
Oh.
Slowly, Hardcase raises his right foot, inching towards-
“Don’t even think about it”, Commander Cody snaps, and Hardcase’s foot whips back to the ground next to its companion. Fives chortles. “Yeah, genius, those are Commander kamas - they’d put you down in a second flat!”
“Why would two Corrie Commanders go crawling out of holes in front of 79’s, huh, genius?!”, Hardcase retorts, somewhat justly, Echo feels. Next to him, Commander Cody frowns, and kneels carefully. “Good question, trooper. Fox, can you hear me? Fox’i-“
Which is when one of the bodies - Commander Fox, Echo realizes with a shudder, The Marshall Commander Fox - convulses on the ground, and an arm rears up to nail Cody face-first with the back of a hand, sending him sprawling back into the pavement with an undignified squawk.
“Thorn”, the sad figure that is the highest decorated clone in existence groans, still faceplanted into pavement, “Thorn, I’m hallucinating Cody. Thorn, tell him to shut up.”
“Shuddup”, Commander Thorn heaves, loyally. Cody makes an affronted noise, braced back on his shebs. “Sdubid Codeh.”
Commander Fox’s visor scrapes against the ground with his nod, a sound that sends the surrounding vod’e cringing. “Yeah, you go, Thorn. You’re my favorite.” A considering pause. “Oh, kark. I need to call in medevac - Fox to Stabby, Fox to Stabby - the kriffing Narglatches are back on the lower levels.”
The Commander’s comm crackles to life, as he heaves himself over with a punched-out moan - oh, yup, that dark patch’s definitely not paint, and are those teeth marks?! On plastoid??
“I’m going to wring Senator Hliii’s neck, and then I’m going to twist him into a human kriffing meat-lasso to catch every last one of his little pets with”, sounds through Fox’s comm, who just hacks out a laughcough in response. “Pinging your location now. Where’s Thorn?”
“Pr’snt”, slurs Thorn.
“Concussed”, adds Fox, “We crawled out forty levels to behind 79’s, so no one would see us.”
Awkward silence follows.
“Uh, about that”, begins Rex, only to be interrupted by a deep groan from Fox.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kriffing kidding me! As if Cody’s ugly mug wasn’t - WHAT THE KRIFF ARE YOUR KRIFFING ARC KARKHEADS DOING IN MY HALLUCINATION, REX?!”
“Shuddup, Rex”, Thorn moans bravely.
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