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#i love him so much – @fenicenera83 on Tumblr
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Sanguinem et Aurum-A Marius de Romanus Lover

@fenicenera83 / fenicenera83.tumblr.com

Old Bones. Proud italian Heart 🇮🇹.Bookworm.Art. Marius de Romanus. Blood and Gold.Ancient Rome.Video Games.☽Vampire Chronicles: Marius/Armand.I love the characters of Thorne and Claudia too! I am NOT a fan of ITWV AMC show.
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Do you sometimes think about this quote from PLatRoA:

I mean this is already a strong statement if you view it out of context but once you realize that it's Derek, a Replimoid, who immediately saw Marius and Lestat as father and son… as soon as you realize how these Replimoids procreate… this becomes an even stronger statement. When Derek says it, it really hits differently.

And then there's another layer which gets unpacked as you think of Derek and Dertu in particular but I can't put into proper words. Something about both Lestat and Dertu being simpler souls compared to their "fathers", less sensitive/thoughtful but more efficient in emergency situations.

(The second paragraph is just here to show some appreciation towards their different styles. "... as though he'd never slouched or slumped or relaxed in his entire long immortal life..." - somebody plz give this old man a beanbag chair and a head massage OK?)

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There are times in Blood and Gold when Marius is sincerely just really cute like laying down on the floor to Process

Or getting overwhelmed meeting his painter crush

I want to squish his cheeks a bit

I need to remind everyone that in the audiobook his actor actually stammers and LAUGHS AT HIMSELF ABOUT IT and its the cutest thing ever

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It’s always interesting to me that so much Marius hate seems to hinge on 1) he’s older so should know better than to do ________, or 2) that he’s often viewed as just somehow irredeemable, which is ironic given the hate directed at him is typically by people that will forgive their blorbos of equal or worse offenses.

Marius sometimes also gets cast as having no substance or growth capability, or he’s ragged on for not having evolved or ‘figured out his shit yet’ which is also interesting that he’s not viewed with the same grace as other characters are when it comes to their trauma. I guess some of the irony for me boils down to he’s often viewed as a figurehead of toxic masculinity, but then by turn he’s expected to get over shit faster or man up or any number of things that are rooted in toxic masculinity. 

It feels like he often gets reduced down to a convenient ‘old gross white guy’ trope to hate on because it’s so EASY to do by specific demographics in this fandom. Which shouldn’t surprise me given how much of this fandom views some of it’s male characters and even how it views and treats it’s male fans, and I guess it doesn’t surprise me, it annoys the fuck out of me given how queer the series is.

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✶☽ Here we are with my new headcanons for Marius.

[I arrive a little late for Marius's Mondays and I'm sorry! But as promised here we are.]

From Marius' rooms in the castle there always came a delicate scent of roses. This is because Marius always kept a bunch on his desk. Red, shiny, velvety and full of perfume. It wasn't a gesture of vanity, and really not even of simple admiration for something so beautiful. No, for Marius, roses were an indissoluble bond with his Rome. With a mortal past, which had made him a happy man. Roses and their petals, when they covered Rome on events. Those days when his father took him by the hand and led him to discover the Eternal City. The rose petals in the public baths, where Marius loved to rest, or spend time with his brothers. Talking, joking about life, about the future. Rose petals, were in his sisters hair, distilled on his stepmother's neck. When she held him in her arms as a child, Marius remembered with nostalgia, he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, and that perfume enveloped him, leaving only sweetness and love. Roses are for Marius like walking again beside those he has loved and lost. That perfume is a litany of love, a poem of joy.

  • When Marius was a child, his father often took him with him, taught him names, laws, illustrious people, honor, family. Marius loved all this and fathered him immensely. While he hated that those walks sometimes brought them in front of slave sellers. Many times Marius's child's eyes had rested on them, and he had seen in them a reflection of himself. Very light hair, and eyes of an impossible blue. Marius observed, and brooded, small as he was, doubt was already growing inside him, the awareness of not being 'whole' in the eyes of most. He looked at his father and saw golden hair, and clear eyes, but they weren't like his. He didn't have that gold or that sky. He had the ocean and the gentle warmth of a candle burning at night. He wasn't like his father. He was like his mother. His father noticed the change in little Marius. Then he took him in his arms, lifted him up and smiled at him. And Marius could only laugh in turn. Then his father held him and stroked his hair and whispered to him: "Luceat lux vestra." (Let your light shine)

  • Marius was always ecstatic when he was surrounded by books. Now after millennia he had managed to develop an external self-control, but inside he was always a smiling child. But whether as a mortal man or as a young vampire, Marius had always been enthusiastic about knowledge. As a young boy, he ran from side to side, searching and collecting scrolls, with stories, research, poems, anything that could set his intellect in motion. And he spent hours, unable to tear himself away from the wonder of words written by another human being, yet so close to him, to his mind and to his heart. As a man he had become more selective, even more careful. Since he loved all knowledge, he didn't preclude anything, but he organized what to devote his interest to him first, then proceeding to study the rest. As a young vampire, he'd grown ravenous. Everything he set his eyes on, he wanted to learn, own, understand and experience. Being a vampire granted him this with extreme ease. So he often found himself asleep, among the scrolls, exhausted but happy, full of perspectives and ideas. He voracious of all that knowledge, bewitched by the courage and clarity with which the human mind can expand and indulge. To ourselves and to others. The smell of the parchments first, and then of the books, were a balm for his fatigue or for his disappointment. Those clean and black words on the paper, that familiar and deep smell, made him happy.

Thanks for reading =)

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