#Voices of a Century

[stefisdoingthings]

wings

[daouoffroads]

It hurts here too.

[sporadicfrogs]

Listen I know everyone has already talked about this but I genuinely cannot get over the fact that the Doctor changed his face with Donna's influence TWICE. The first time to remember who he was and save people, even if he can't save everyone, and the second time to COME HOME. TO DONNA.

[minnow-doodle-doo]

Batman is owned by the people, not DC. My man is a modern myth.

[lyculuscaelus]

We’re in one of the oldest fandoms where the canon itself is long lost and the source materials for us to draw inspiration from are those of the earliest fanfics themselves—two of which being commonly accepted as beta canon due to their top quality. Sometimes these fanfics contradict each other due to all sorts of OOCs and inconsistencies which is forcing us to choose our own sources to rely on to draw fanart and write fanfics. Each generation of fanfic writers are introducing more headcanons in their works and sometimes their fanfics of fanfics become so popular that they are prompting new sub-fandoms to emerge, inspiring more people to draw fanart and write fanfics for these fanfics of fanfics. It’s almost as if there is a family tree of fanfics and we’re now reaching the third generation and beyond

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[gdn7-dollopole]

They both knew.

[kaitropoli]

"The Silent Voice"

By Gerald Edward Moira

Oil Painting, c. 1892-93

Private Collection.

Just found this painting, and I had to post it because it's so gorgeous. Look at that BLUE!!!!!! UGHAAHHHHH.

There's a lot going on in this painting, but I'm somewhat busy atm, so I will be reblogging sometime tonight or tomorrow further information on this painting.

Other than that, it's popularly believed Moira was inspired by the poem "The Two Voices" by Alfred Tennyson. Tennyson says that he wrote the piece while dealing with depression after a friend passed, which is then brought into the poem, noting thoughts of suicide.

Moira's title echoes,

"Thereto the silent voice replied; / ‘Self-blinded are you by your pride: / Look up thro’ night: the world is wide."

(Tennyson, lines 22-24).

The poem was definitely controversial, and responses to it varied. How are you going to respond to a Victorian suicide poem? I'm not a poem freak--I know nothing about them, despite making my own (especially in my emo days)--but from what I read, I thought it was good. But I also live in an era of TikTok poems, so what would I know💀 N E Wayz, it did seem to spark inspiration, as we can see a young woman out in what appears to be a night-ridden forest, her dress matching the sky, as an apparition (the silent voice) whispers into her ear, holding her wrist.

I don't believe the apparition to be a demon because if we're following the lines of the poem, it wouldn't make much sense. If the voice were saying the quotes, they'd be talking her off the ledge. Her eyes are speaking realization--recognizing her pride (suicide is sometimes seen as a selfish act... been down this road before, so don't misinterpret what I'm saying: you're taking your own life because you're sad, but you don't realize that sadness will be inflicted on those around you. It's about being the stronger person and helping to take care of yourself and your loved ones after losing someone, which is more so the context present in the poem itself... or the afterthought of it because we're given a repeated line saying that there's one way out (suicide)). They say pride is rooted in selfishness, and basing that reasoning, which a lot of religious folks have, the lady is being told there's more to life, more to come. The night sky, though dark, still has light that shines (okay, I made up this part, but who says I can't make it sentimental? This is my damn interpretation on it👹👅).

[monstersteam]

(2/2) Legendary Edward vs. @moffittarts' Edward

[annabelle--cane]

trying and failing to practice a makeup look for a more relaxed vampire costume tomorrow. curse this adorably round and romantic feminine irish face, I can't be scary even when I actively try. I do a dramatic red lip and look less like a vampire and more like a misplaced ballerina.

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

I had to stop 11 seconds in because MY HEART AND BREATHING BOTH STOPPED

[kanerallels]

I've only had Mina Harker (?) for a chapter, but if anything happened to her I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself

[herrlichersonnigertag]

Do the tumblrinas know about Le Nozze di Figaro (1786, Mozart/Da Ponte)

[lloydfrontera]

one of the funniest things bk moon ever did was make you believe lloyd was Gone™ by having javier be all wistful and yearning about his old master convincing you that this is an old heartbreak that never healed right and that he's still mourning him centuries later. only to then reveal that not only is lloyd alive and perfectly okay he's literally one phone call away. javier can literally just pick up the phone and have a direct line with him any time he wants. he's just being dramatic about not being at his side 24/7 like he used to. it's so fucking funny asjkhksfjs

[guiltyonsundays]

In defence of Will Ladislaw

George Eliot's characterisation of Will Ladislaw is one of the few aspects of Middlemarch that is not universally praised, with no less a person than Henry James commenting in 1873 that he lacked “sharpness of outline and depth of color”, making him the novel’s “only eminent failure.” And while Will's character is certainly not as clearly defined as some of the other characters in the novel, I believe that this was absolutely intentional on Eliot's part. Middlemarch is full to the brim of characters who believe they know exactly what they want—not least among them, our two protagonists, Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate, whose ardent ambitions and inflexible attitudes lead them into catastrophic errors of judgement and unhappy marriages.

By contrast, Will's lack of strongly defined goals and his changeability are almost his defining character traits. He's aimless and pliable, prone to rapid mood swings and drastic career changes, with even his physical features seeming to "chang[e] their form; his jaw looked sometimes large and sometimes small; and the little ripple in his nose was a preparation for metamorphosis. When he turned his head quickly his hair seemed to shake out light."

Will’s inscrutability is closely tied to his ambiguous status within the rigid class structure and xenophobic society of Victorian England, with his Polish ancestry and “rebellious blood on both sides” making him a target for suspicion. He is repeatedly aligned (and aligns himself) with oppressed, marginalised, and outcast populations—Jewish people, artists, and the poor.

He serves as a narrative foil for characters like Lydgate and Edward Casaubon, who prioritise specialist expertise above all and are consequently incapable of broad knowledge synthesis. He critiques Casaubon's life's work as being "thrown away, as so much English scholarship is, for want of knowing what is being done by the rest of the world." By contrast, Will serves as Eliot's defence of the value of a liberal education. One of the first things that we learn about him is that he declines to choose a vocation, and instead seeks to travel widely, experiencing diverse cultures and ways of life. He has broad tastes and interests, trying his hand at poetry and painting before eventually pursuing a career in politics.

He also functions as a narrative foil for Dorothea. Will is initially apathetic to politics, whereas Dorothea initially professes herself to be disinterested in art and beauty. This is perfectly encapsulated in their exchange in Rome, when Dorothea declares, "I should like to make life beautiful—I mean everybody's life. And then all this immense expense of art, that seems somehow to lie outside life and make it no better for the world, pains one", to which Will replies, "You might say the same of landscape, of poetry, of all refinement [...] The best piety is to enjoy—when you can [...] I suspect that you have some false belief in the virtues of misery, and want to make your life a martyrdom.”

By the end of the novel, Dorothea unlearns some of her puritanical suspicion of sensual pleasure, whereas Will becomes more serious, compassionate, and politically engaged, dedicating his life to the accomplishment of humane political reforms. They are both flawed individuals, who ultimately become more well rounded through their relationship with each other. Admittedly, Dorothea's influence on Will is more significant than his on her—and once again, I believe that this was intentional on Eliot's part.

In my opinion, the negative response to Will Ladislaw at the time of Middlemarch's publication (and in the centuries since) was and is profoundly informed by gendered expectations of masculine dominance in romantic relationships. Will's marriage to Dorothea has often been described as disappointing, with many readers and critics viewing the ambitious Lydgate as the embodiment of the ideal husband that Dorothea outlines at the beginning of the novel—a talented man engaged in important work for the betterment of humanity, to whom she can devote herself.

However, one of the central themes of the novel is that people are often mistaken in their beliefs about what they want, and Dorothea's marriage to Edward Casaubon certainly demonstrates that she would not in fact be happy living her life in submission to a man who does not respect her opinions. I firmly believe that Lydgate's misogynistic attitudes and expectations would have made it impossible for him to be happy in a marriage of equals with a woman like Dorothea. He is explicitly drawn to Rosamond Vincy because she has "just the kind of intelligence one would desire in a woman—polished, refined, docile."

By contrast, George Eliot made a deliberate choice to pair Dorothea with a man who is not ashamed to be influenced by her, and indeed looks up to her as his moral superior. Through Dorothea's influence, Will discovers his life's work. In turn, by marrying Will, Dorothea is able to pursue her true passion. As a result of their influence on each other, these come to mean the same thing—reform. Thus, George Eliot grants Dorothea Brooke a subversively feminist, politically progressive, and profoundly cathartic ending: a life of companionate marriage, sensual pleasure, and meaningful work, in which Dorothea can devote herself (within the limited means available to her as a woman in the 19th century) to the achievement of just and compassionate reforms that "make life beautiful" for everybody—herself included.

[kayotic-catgirl]

my honest to god reaction to hearing "augustus" speak: