#hes so fascinating and interesting as a character

[impactrueno]

some stuff about lydia's jacket in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. hope you guys are ready for another thinkpiece no one asked for:

right so. colleen atwood decided to give lydia (and rory) these garments that seemed so unfinished it was distracting me. but i know there's a reason for every costume choice, so i watched this super short rundown she gave about a few of the outfits in one of the promotional videos for the movie, but i was disappointed that she didn't say anything about this one. i knew i had to draw it at some point so i really needed to know what it's supposed to be. a friend who went to the Afterlife Experience prop exhibition even took photos of the damn thing up close at my request, just so i could take a closer look and see if i could figure it out. but nothing. i didn't know how to draw it and it was driving me insane. i felt stupid. like what am i missing here

months later here i am, browsing pinterest for my beetlejuice inspo boards and i randomly find it and others like it:

and this is how i learned that these were created by british designer elena dawson. the way this article described this style made everything make sense:

Her Victorian frocks with unfinished seams and hanging fabric strips speak of ghostly things, simultaneously ephemeral and imprinted with history, the stuff of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, a witchy presence in the world that no longer cares for fairy tales.

more:

Maybe it is this ghostly presence that informs Dawson’s work, which reflects her fascination with death. “The relation between clothing, ritual, and death is of great interest to me,” says she. “In some respects, through clothing I am also working through my relationship to death.”

and the way she described it herself:

“When you work on alterations you are really tearing the guts out of the garment, performing a sort of autopsy—you really get to see a garment at its most vulnerable point. Observing this state of semi deconstruction in the making of a garment or shoe is what I like to retain in my finished work.“

oh my god.

the clothes are lydia. they are purposefully incomplete.

lydia's whole deal in the movie was that she was messed up from of all the shit she's been through to the point where she's no longer herself. the events in her life have been slowly picking the threads of what kept her together, what makes her her. delia has this great line that basically sums up lydia's pathos in the movie: "you need to take back your life from those hanger-onners, from this thing," meaning rory and beetlejuice. "where's the obnoxious little goth girl who tormented me all those years ago? it's time to find her."

i'd wager they made rory wear the same style of deconstructed jacket for the funeral specifically because he was trying to come off like this was a tragedy to him just as much, that he's "vulnerable" like the deetz women right now. you know, his whole modus operandi and all (unnecessarily large handkerchief included.) interestingly enough, lydia does NOT wear the loose thread jacket that would match rory's coat here. her own outfit is still by the same designer though, so it's like...they match, but also don't. they're in a relationship, but don't fit together.

according to interviews, using elena dawson designs was winona ryder and justin theroux's idea that they brought up to colleen atwood, and can i just say that i love how much input they had on their characters? justin in particular had SO much fun playing rory, his interviews are great. he owned the role. he knows a lot about fashion, so he was the first one to suggest this look and vibe for him.

as for winona, she wore dawson herself multiple times during the promotional tour for the movie. like, this is just her actual wardrobe. you can tell she had fun trying to emulate lydia's bangs and ponytail with these fits too.

i don't know much about fashion, honestly. but i love character design and telling a story through a character's clothes. so obviously i'm nerding out about this hardcore. perhaps i should learn more about fashion so i can do cool stuff like this too.

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

Seen a few 'maturity is realising that it's not a look of love' videos on Instagram re: 457, and while I do realise it is Not That Deep, I nonetheless have THOUGHTS

The crux of those thoughts is this: has fandom's view of shipping narrowed so far that unless two characters are mashing their faces together on-screen, it's immature to interpret the text contrary to what we assume the creator's intention was?

With this ship specifically, let's start with the obvious: the actors have insane chemistry. This is true whether you see the characters' bond as platonic, romantic, antagonistic, or something else. They are very obviously comfortable and friendly with one another in real life, and this translates into an intense on-screen relationship between Gi-hun and In-ho (and I'm sure this is exactly what the director did want, because, newsflash, this is our protagonist/antagonist duo).

I do think it's valid to ship something based purely off the actors' chemistry, but the comment is obviously referring to the characters themselves in the context of the story, so let's address that too.

There's a clear motivation for the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, follows him around, and generally tries to insert himself into his life, and this is what these posts are referring to. He's testing his ideology, he's watching how he's affected by the horrific things that are happening around him, and to help him do this, he's ensuring that Gi-hun trusts and likes him. It's important if he wants to prove to him that the world is unchangeable, and humanity irredeemable.

And because of that, it's not the 'look of love'. Case closed?

Well, no.

Because there is so much nuance and depth that you're failing to explore, if a look can only mean one thing.

Because why does In-ho bother? Why is Gi-hun worth his time and interest? In-ho - via the games - has access to resources that far far outweigh the money Gi-hun won. He could prevent him from finding the island forever. He could just have him shot tbh. He's not really a credible threat - at most, he's a minor annoyance, because people need to be paid off every so often to prevent him getting too close.

Just through this detail, we can deduce that In-ho cares, in some way. He is interested enough to want to change Gi-hun's mind, when it would be so much easier to... not. Is it love? It's certainly fascination. And I don't think it can be argued that he brought him back for the VIPs' entertainment and not his own, because Gi-hun was searching for three years before In-ho let himself be found. And even when he's found, it's Gi-hun who suggests going back into the games.

So these stares - yes, he's testing him, but he's doing it because he wants to. They denote genuine interest. How did this guy retain his hope and faith in humanity? How can I prove to him that my view is correct?

And I'm very much not saying that a romantic interpretation is 'correct', because fiction should be interpreted however the audience sees fit, but what is love (in all its forms) if not wanting to know someone and be known by them?

This is even more compelling to me when we take into account In-ho's backstory, which we learn a bit more about in season 2. Because he and Gi-hun are so similar, except in the way they've used their trauma to interpret the world. Which just adds to the evidence that In-ho would be fascinated by this man, be determined to know him and to change his mind.

What I'm saying with all this isn't that 457 is canon, and that anyone who says otherwise is media illiterate. What I'm saying is that the real immature interpretation is one that's surface level, be that interpretation 'uwu he loves him' or 'he's PLOTTING evil things'.

[sweetlullabyebye]

Discovered the genre of Horror Namgyu videos on Tiktok which is so good? This man terrified me on my first watch of episode 7, and I can't wait to see what happens to him next season

[maxdibert]

I don’t think Lily’s a particularly empathetic person tbh. Petunia’s a cow, but they were obviously close once and Lily doesn’t possess the sensitivity required to understand that it’s coming from a place of being made to feel less than. She flirts with James while her friend is choking on soap suds and throws Severus’ otherness right back in his face after he does the same to her, but only one of them thinks they behaved poorly in that situation. She’s fine with dating an abuser once he (publicly) calms down a bit, but doesn’t require evidence of him making amends to his victims. It’s an interesting character quirk, her self righteousness, but not one that tends to come with introspection. I wonder if people mature mentally in the afterlife? If she’s stuck at 21, forgiveness is probably off the table. If she’s 38, well, I think it’s totally reasonable to be angry at the prophecy debacle, but she also has decades of evidence of his genuine atonement.

Severus is so self-loathing and desperate for connection that he’s incapable of accepting he’s ever got a point when it comes to conflict with Lily, and Lily is a golden child unused to being held accountable for anything. It’s a toxic combination even when they’re children. Add in the fact that Severus’ mistakes indirectly got her killed, and I think they’d both end up feeling that her failures as a friend were so insignificant in comparison it’s not even worth discussing. Maybe the best case is that doing some more self-flagellating and her blessing him with forgiveness even with no reciprocal exchange allows him to move unburdened onto a Lily-free afterlife.

Yes, I think you’ve absolutely nailed it. Severus feels so terrible because he had a deep emotional dependence on Lily. And honestly, I get it—a marginalized kid from a conflict-ridden home, likely neglected by his parents, with zero social skills. I’ve always thought Lily was his attachment figure, which is pretty common among people with emotional deficits: they latch onto those who show them any affection in an exaggerated way, leading to dependency. And clearly, Lily didn’t see their friendship the same way, because she didn’t have those emotional needs.

I mean, as much as Petunia was conditioned to be resentful and we dislike her, we can probably credit her when she implies multiple times that Lily was the favorite child. It’s logical: Lily was the "magical" child. Plus, being the younger sibling likely meant she was spoiled by default, and being a witch added another layer of fascination for her parents. She was probably used to a lot of attention and praise, which only solidified during her school years as she became popular, well-liked by adults and peers, and widely considered very attractive. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a bit egocentric, which fits with her inability to put herself in someone else’s shoes or care about anything unless it affected her personally.

For instance, she didn’t care about Mary McDonald being bullied because Snape was her friend. But the moment Snape stopped being her friend, she suddenly brought it up. Like, what? It didn’t bother her before? Or did she not care because she didn’t need leverage against Severus? And isn’t it convenient that she "hated" James because of how he treated her friend, but once that friend wasn’t in the picture, she ended up dating him? What, did she suddenly forget everything James did, or was it just that she no longer needed to pretend to care? In my headcanon, she was all about appearances. She got involved in the war because it affected her directly; if it hadn’t, I think she wouldn’t have cared at all.

That said, I don’t think Severus owed anyone an apology. I mean, I understand why he felt guilty, and it’s commendable, but if I’d spent five years being bullied and harassed and then my ex-best friend—who witnessed all of it—started dating my bully? I swear I’d burn her hair off. I’d grab a lighter and make a bonfire right in the middle of class. And then I’d pluck her eyelashes out, one by one. Honestly, it’s like if your friend decided to date a guy who tried to assault you—what the actual fuck, girl? What are you even thinking? Let her mother apologize for raising her with no sense of ethics.

[maybeafrog-blog]

Leonardo and Autism

I am fascinated by the amount of autistic that 2012 Leo is, because unlike Donnie’s convenient tech savant situation, Leo’s autistic traits are solidly plot neutral to negative? He’s obsessed with rewatching one specific TV show (a cartoon with a repetitive and predictable plot), uses his favorite character to script his Leader Speeches to try to get his team to listen. He generally tries to plan every mission in detail and gets very frustrated when his brothers don’t go along with it/when plans have to be changed (at first- he gets more flexible over time). Leo also has an incredibly black and white understanding of morality and tends to take Splinter's teaching's as fact rather than advice, which can make him fairly gullible and easy to manipulate (the Karai situation), and he probably has the least social intelligence of his brothers.

It's interesting that the traits that make Leonardo such a paragon across most iterations have such autistic vibes. 2003 Leo is obsessed with honor but has a ridiculously hard time recognizing his own emotions (you kumquat!), and MM Leo's heroic personality can't be blamed on Splinter without that good Hamato ninja juice, so like, he's just like that. It sorta reminds me of anecdotes about undiagnosed autistic/adhd people thriving in the military-- "Ninja training" and all the rules that come with it probably works like crack on that neurodivergent turtle brain. Kinda makes me wonder about Rise Leonardo and his comparatively very lax upbringing-- obvi the guy would still be a lot more social and silly compared to most Leos, I think he's more ADHD than autistic, but how different would he be if he were trained in the structure of 2003 or 2012 Splinter?

Anyway, give me a Leo who trains everyday not just to get stronger, but because of how badly he needs that routine. How does he react when it's broken? How does he cope with being away from home during the farmhouse arc? Maybe a Leo with sensitive hearing that makes him great at noticing when they're being followed, but overwhelms him when he's too close to street level traffic? A Leo that tries to suppress his stims because that's not very cool stoic ninja of him? How would his brothers react to a Leo who's calm and focused in the midst of battle finally shutting or melting down over something seemingly small?

Also, 2012 Leo is very cute when he gets excited about his space show and it makes me want to squish his dumb turtle face. Give Leos More Hobbies (looking at you Mutant Mayhem, I'm glad he draws his silly lil comics in Tales but I'm concerned all his interests are gonna revolve around April or Ninja Responsibilities. My boy already has anxiety this shit is too much pressure for him.)

[evesedenramblings]

I want to talk about the Greek Myth of Damon and Pythias and how I think it could tie into Project: Eden’s Garden. For those unfamiliar, the story of Damon and Pythias basically goes like this:

A man named Pythias is to be given the death penalty for his crimes of protesting tyrannical authority against a man named Dionysus (not the God, just named after him). However, Damon volunteers to take his place so Pythias can tend to his affairs (basically say final goodbyes). If Pythias does not return by a certain time, Damon shall be executed in his place. Pythias arrives in time and neither character dies, and Dionysus praises the two for their friendship and loyalty, and even asks to join the two in their friendship but is rejected.

It’s important to look at the framework of the story rather than the details. If we do that, I think there’s a lot to work with.

The story ties very neatly into the idea that Tozu’s Killing Game “continues until there’s only two people”, those two people in this context being Damon and Pythias, especially considering Tozu has the ongoing theme of lying! The Killing Game would end, but then maybe only one person gets to leave, and then begins the free-for-all seen in the Prologue. But then if Damon is Damon, who is Pythias supposed to be? Who is Damon willing to go against his entire ideology for with the belief they won’t kill each other? Honestly it’s too early to say. But that’s not all we can take from the story.

I think Tozu is our Dionysus. Dionysus is a tyrannical ruler named after, but not actually, a God, which is interesting in terms of a power complex. His role in the story is to pit Damon and Pythias against each other, making them doubt and question their trust for each other. The key difference is obviously Tozu will be relying on them to kill each other- however, should the story follow beat-by-beat, they won’t kill each other, and Tozu will be so impressed, he may let the two of them go. Frankly, I have another theory pertaining to Tozu that I haven’t created it into a proper post yet, but I think Tozu may try to bring them into his organization, and the two reject.

It’s an interesting story that makes for a fascinating theory. Considering how often the myth comes up in the origin of the name Damon, I imagine it has to have some form of relevancy. Not to mention the story is just a little bit too perfect of a character arc for Damon and a kick in the nuts for Tozu.

Brief aside: thanks to @panomiels-box for inspiring this analysis! They reminded me my “Damon and Pythias” draft exists and did their own analysis on Damon and Pythias. Our theories are pretty different which is why I’m not reblogging off their post, I’d hate to take away from their theory. Make sure to read theirs too, they make a lot of interesting points!

[ilynpilled]

always found this a hilariously bad faith and detached from his story read, which becomes esp funny with how dance ends with him abandoning everything and riskily going with brienne into danger alone for sansa, but a semi related interesting thing (that might diverge from the original point of ur post) that im reminded of bc i do see this stuff with this sentiment of “um he is not even keeping his vow to cat he is making brienne do it” is that his original promise regarding the returning of the girls places him into such a minor role bc cat obv doesnt have any faith in him. the actual promise is impossible and meaningless in multiple ways bc of what he returns to obviously, and despite how this fandom tends to discuss vows the point is that it isnt about the literal it is about a deeper thing of what is the right and fair thing to do here so he has to essentially take up what tyrion’s role and pledge was in the oath, but i do find it fascinating and funny that jaime never actually vowed to play a substantial part himself in the returning of the girls lol. which i think does work and is consistent with his character’s commentary on vows as these constracts that shouldnt actually be what govern ur morality. i like that the vow to cat regarding the returning of her daughters turns into him trying to keep a promise he never technically made, and what he is doing isnt actually keeping a vow that he swore really

when people talk about Jaime using Brienne as just a vessel for the actions he doesn’t want to take himself (I.e. rescuing Sansa) it really is like…. I know that’s how YOU see Brienne but that is not actually how their relationship is written. she is not a canvas for Jaime to dick about with the abstract concept of redemption before disregarding her for the sake of whatever grimdark twincest fantasy you have in mind. interesting that you choose to frame her that way tho

[distort-opia]

There's a fascinating aspect of Ellen's character that I've seen some people touch on before, but now that it got into my head I need to go through to it too-- her nature not being of human kind. It's actually one of the very first things Orlok himself says: that Ellen is not human, and he reasserts it later. But then what is she?

"Almost a sylph," Knock says of Ellen. "His little changeling girl," Ellen says her father had described her as, when she wandered off into the forest as a child. "You mustn't be caught up in her fairy ways," Harding admonishes Anna. Hell, in the 2016 script, when the Hardings accompany Ellen on her walk along the sea shore, she and the children dance in a circle while Ellen cries out "round and round the fairy ring". Furthermore, there's more than one explicit reference to Ellen loving the sea in the scripts. Prior to the sea shore walk, Ellen fervently asks Anna to go there, because "it calms her". Later on, Anna herself says that "she loves the sea so". While this didn't make it to the movie in such direct terms, we still see Ellen looking out windows and yearning, again and again... visiting the sea twice, having a seizure in the water itself. "Look at the sky! Look at the sea! Does it never call to you? Urge you?" she cries to Anna.

It's clearly an intentional implication on Eggers' part: that Ellen is some kind of fairy-like nature elemental. The term sylph originates from the works of Paracelsus, and described as a female air spirit, though over time water has been conflated with it too. Changeling also refers to a child kidnapped by supernatural beings (interestingly birthed by the Devil or a water spirit among others, in German mythology) and replaced with... something else. And we could leave it at that-- Ellen is not entirely human. She was born with witchy and fae-like characteristics, an attraction to the wind and the sea.

When she called out in the dark, it's possible Orlok answered also because he recognized this within her. But. There is a type of female nature spirit in Romanian folklore (which ultimately pervades the mythology of Nosferatu) that has specific parallels and a particular relationship to the Solomonar, the kind of sorcerer/supernatural creature Orlok was in life. It feeds into the overarching theme of destiny and fate so beautifully. I find it all very interesting, but I got pretty long already, so I'll put the rest under the cut.

Female nature spirits can be found all over the place in European folklore, and Romania is no different. They can have many names, though the most popular one is probably iele, a name that is literally derived from the female plural "ele". Iele are fae-like feminine spirits associated with the winds and the sky, often seducing and luring men away. They are very closely related to nature-- air, winds, water, rain. What attracted my attention though, is the variation/subtype of vântoase (root word vânt = wind) or the associated vâlvă. In some accounts [1], this supernatural creature is a marked human who was born with the capacity for their spirit to leave their body at night and then go towards the sky, where they wrestle with other vâlve or balauri (which are a Romanian mythical equivalent of dragons, alongside zmei). Their fights are said to be what cause storms, and rains, and other catastrophe-related weather events. When put in contrast with Ellen, the similarities are obvious... especially when it comes to her affinity for nature and her spirit "wandering off". It also must be emphasized that these spirits are not inherently evil: they can do both good and bad, bring luck or misfortune, aligning with Ellen saying that "her spirit cannot be as evil as his [Orlok's]" and that all her life she has "simply heeded her own nature".

But the thing is... a marked human born with powers is also what a Solomonar is: children able to control the weather, ride balauri or zmei, control and turn into different animals-- who are then recruited by the Devil into the school of Șolomanță/Scholomance. Although despite this demonic current association, initially Solomonari were also more of a neutral figure in Romanian folklore. They are theorized, among other hypotheses, to be a later version of Geto-Dacian ktistai, who were selected from priests or kings (Orlok is a count, a prince or voivode) and might've worshipped Zamolxe, a Geto-Dacian God associated with the sky as well as immortality (Ancient Dacian is what Orlok speaks; Zamolxe is written within Orlok's heptagram sigil; on his coat of arms, sigil and coffin there's Dacian wolves as well as balauri-- a serpent-like creature with the head of a wolf which is on the Dacian flag). Some Solomonari were believed to be protecting villages from calamity, and influenced the weather in order to grow crops more easily. But of course, when Christianity spread in the region, things from Pagan times began to be associated with the Devil, hence why the Christian Orthodox Abbess we see in the Nosferatu movie calls Orlok a "black enchanter". More importantly for us though, the Solomonar was also said to leave their body at night in a trance, riding up into the sky to fight the weather spirits. Orlok's Shadow, that we hear so much about, is an integral part of a Solomonar's powers: the ability to project one's spirit away from their body. Them riding balauri is a metaphor for them taming winds, summoning vântoase.

So. Vâlvă, vântoasă, ială and Solomonar share quite a lot of characteristics, don't they? A source I found made the comparison directly, which is what set me on this path [1]. Humans born with powers-- one typically male, one female. But the male one is schooled and part of a cult or hierarchy, taking control of the nature element, while the vâlvă/vântoasă/ială is the nature element.

Yet the expected dynamic between summoner and summoned is so deliciously subverted with Ellen and Orlok! Orlok definitely recognized someone of his own nature in Ellen. Someone born with magic, essentially. Someone not of human kind. But Ellen's power is something Orlok's kind traditionally controls. A Solomonar tames and summons the winds (vântoasele)... and don't we see Orlok's spirit call to Ellen more than once? Orlok asserts his influence through the lilac-scented lock of hair, latching onto Ellen through it. He trespasses in Ellen's dreams, brings her spirit to him in the Castle when he feeds on Thomas, and we see her naked and on top of Thomas too, eerie and with blood spilling out of her mouth (very female-spirit-who-preys-upon-men coded, which is even more directly spelled out later in the scene where Ellen provokes Thomas into having sex with her). All along, we see Ellen overcome by seizures and trances, writhing under Orlok's Shadow. This is the power he has over her.

Hah. But Orlok is not just a Solomonar, Ellen is not just a spirit of the wind, and here's where I think another fascinating layer comes in. In the movie, ultimately, Orlok is a strigoi. The strigoi is a Romanian folk creature that can be vampiric, though that's not always what it does. It's a troubled spirit that rises from the grave to prey upon the living (especially their loved ones, to whom they return to first), by eating/killing their animals, poisoning their crops, drinking their blood and creating all manner of disaster. One can become a strigoi in many ways, including a life of sin, suicide, being cursed by a witch, etc. But importantly, there's also two types of strigoi-- the alive strigoi, and the dead strigoi [2]. The alive type is a sorcerer who in life already slips into these evil behaviors with intent, while the dead type rises from the grave and mindlessly feeds upon their loved ones and their village (the revenant we see killed by the Romani vampire hunter in the film). Orlok is a mix of things that make him unique, much like how Dracula was described as atypical multiple times in Bram Stoker's novel. He was a sorcerer and a Solomonar in life (an alive strigoi, something a source from the 19th century asserted-- that Solomonari were strigoi), who was then risen from the grave by a witch (becoming a dead strigoi). As a result, he has retained all his mental faculties and his magical powers.

But the enchantress who calls upon Orlok as a strigoi is partly an air elemental. She caused him to rise from the grave, and that is how she asserts her power over him. Yet she's of the air, of the wind, of the sea... all the things a Solomonar is a master of! So I think this is a contributing factor to the Covenant Orlok makes with Ellen. When they first meet there is not only recognition of someone similar to himself ("You... You..."), but also of a specific connection between what the two of them are. He immediately seeks a Covenant with Ellen, and then when she breaks it, comes after her in person. When they first talk and Ellen rejects him, he says "You will submit."

As Eggers pointed out too, there is a huge need for possession on Orlok's side. It's left ambiguous if he wants to own her or destroy her or if he loves her... To me, this added aspect illuminates a big part of why Orlok also resents Ellen ("You are my affliction"). It isn't just that a woman has him in her thrall, a man and a Lord who wielded great power in life-- but also that she is air, a vântoasă, the element of his dominion. It's so delicious how there's a bidirectional supernatural element between them... Orlok may feel he is owed possession of Ellen, with the deeper layer of the male sorcerer taming the unknowable chaotic female elemental. But Orlok is a strigoi risen from the grave by Ellen as an enchantress, hence she is owed possession of him as her summoned Creature. So there's two tethers between them, each connected to a different aspect of their natures; Orlok is holding one end, Ellen is holding the other. (To be honest, my headcanon is that when we see Ellen levitate, that's not Orlok, it's her air-related power. She levitates upwards in the very first scene of the film right as Orlok says she isn't human, as if it's a manifestation of that. When Orlok feeds on Thomas and she is there in spirit, we see them levitate; except it's Ellen we see fall down to the ground, while Orlok and Thomas are shown to have always been on the ground. And in every scene with Orlok in person, it could be that she gets on her tiptoes progressively to get closer and closer to his face; but it also looks as if she's floating upwards.)

This ended up a way too long honest-to-God essay, but I just adore all the complexities of this movie. You can tell how much Eggers researched, how many details and references he wove into the story, all meant to connect but kept ambigous enough that multiple theories are possible. While the association between Solomonar and strigoi and vampire was something Stoker did too, that Murnau did too, none of them thought to take it as far as create a connection to Ellen steeped also in folklore. The vampire has a supernatural hold over his bride, but now so does she. The Enchantress summons the undead Strigoi, the Solomonar summons the Vântoasă. How much more fated can you get?

I'm supplying two more in-depth sources I used below as downloadable pdfs, but fair warning, they're in Romanian:

[1] Mituri pluviale românești în context universal, Silvia Ciubotaru

[2] Șapte Eseuri Despre Strigoi, Marineasa, 1998

[mulderscully]

i've seen people talking about how drastic the change between cooper and audrey's relationship in s2 is and realize people don't know the lore.

regardless of how you feel about their relationship, the intention that the writers had in s2 was for cooper to fall in love with audrey. eventually this was going to lead to an affair. they have said this multiple times. aside from who killed laura palmer, their most popular storyline was cooper/audrey and when abc pressured lynch and frost to reveal the killer early (which lead to the show's cancellation) they planned to lean on anticipation of the storyline to get them viewership. mark frost has said that they planned on five seasons for twin peaks.

in 1990 kyle maclachlan was dating lara flynn boyle who plays donna hayward, lara became upset that kyle had so much chemistry with sherilyn fenn (who was 25 in real life) so their entire relationship is axed. not only any romantic scenes, but ALL their scenes. after 2x12 kyle and sherilyn never share any direct scenes together. kyle did share that he felt cooper would not have a relationship with 18 year old audrey which i agree with but then they come in and essentially recast heather graham to play a 20 NUN, barely older than audrey herself, to be his love interest in audrey's place. everything that happened with annie at the end of s2 is a placeholder for audrey. and i'm certain it's why we do not see annie in the return but come to find that audrey has been in a somewhat similar situation to cooper for 25 years. it's fascinating to say people say they don't ship cooper and audrey because of the age gap - a very valid squick - but still like their relationship and miss it when it's gone. it shows how their dynamic was embedded into the show and it does say something about dale cooper as a character that this was the original storyline.

it shows how much a network like abc cut what david lynch and mark frost were trying to say at the knees and how cutting off two strong storylines bc of behind the scenes stuff and what execs think audiences want really harms a show as popular as twin peaks can be it's demise. if they hadn't pressured david lynch to reveal the killer early, then they could have carried that on to at least season 3 and do the timejump they planned and who knows how differently we would remember twin peaks now.

[the-crooked-library]

Ellen from Nosferatu is disabled? .o. Can you tell me more about that? I was already interested in watching the movie, but hearing the main female lead is disabled makes me ever more excited to see it! Do they say/imply what she has at all?

Yes, she is - though it's a mix of real-world and horror genre things! There are some details the film says outright and some it implies. To sum it up: Ellen is neurodivergent and psychic at the same time, which results both in social isolation and outright medical abuse. If you don't mind some spoilers (all regarding Ellen's condition rather than the plot), here's a brief overview of it!

From the beginning of the film, Ellen is implied to be in some way neurodivergent. Naturally, since most of the action takes place in 1838, there is no specific term for what she is; personally, I would guess her to be autistic. As a child, Ellen was considered odd, "running wild" in the woods near her father's property and struggling to follow established social conventions; she mentions at one point in the film that her father forcibly isolated her in the house when she failed to grow out of it; and she continues to struggle as an adult, as well, unable to fully understand or conform to the rules that everyone else considers per the course. One of the characters is actually shown to hate her for it - though his sense of manners prevents him from acting/saying anything on that subject until a certain point. Once it's out in the open, however, he admits that he dislikes her specifically because he could always tell (even before the story begins to unravel) that she is actively faking her propriety - in essence, masking.

That said, her psychic symptoms are more of a focus (it is gothic horror, after all). During her astral projections, Ellen experiences altered mental states and seizures. This leads her father to threaten her with institutionalization; and later in life, the other characters tie her to her bed and drug her for days on end after witnessing several of her episodes. These symptoms are visible - and, in fact, impossible to hide, as they have a distinct physical component; and the story centres this as one of the primary reasons her surrounding society abuses and rejects her. It is also important to note that the film reiterates several times that she would be subjected to this regardless of the vampiric aspect of the plot; she was born this way. She cannot be cured of it. It is, for all intents and purposes, a chronic condition that can only be managed and accommodated for - which the bigoted, misogynistic, industrialized society around her refuses to allow. Despite the genre, the horror of Ellen's life is painfully mundane, and all the more brutal for it.

The medical aspect of it is absolutely explicit. It is heavily stressed throughout the film (intersecting with the running theme of misogyny, as well). As in Stoker's Dracula, two of the characters are doctors; and even the most benevolent of them pushes a needle through Ellen's arm to demonstrate that her soul "isn't there" during one of her episodes. All human characters are complicit in this - either through perpetrating that violence themselves, or by letting it happen unimpeded. She's infantilized when people around her are feeling benevolent, and demonized when they're inconvenienced. Considering the history of the horror and gothic genres, and their numerous tragic and/or murderous madwomen, I think Nosferatu is a fascinating subversion of the trope. For a genre that so often frames the "lunatic" from the perspective of a horrified narrator, its centering of Ellen is rather unexpected; but, according to Robert Eggers, that was quite blatantly the point. He mentioned in some interviews that he'd wanted to make a film that actually explored the story from her POV - and god, did he deliver.

If you do end up watching the film, I hope you enjoy!! It is, truly, breathtaking. As a longtime fan of gothic horror, I could not have asked for more.

[deancasforcutie]

#yeah! #I find it very interesting - and I think Dean fixates on that too - that John is focused on revenge and finding what killed Mary but #BUT... the hunting. Part of it can be explained by John gathering info and connections for his cause ...but not all of it #part of the reason *is* saving others from the tragedy that befell them and Dean knows that and has internalized it #and that sits in his mind and heart alongside the sacrifices *he* has had to make and all he's endured because of John's choices #which is immensely fascinating! #Dean's feelings about John are so similar to his feelings about hunting #and I love seeing the choices he makes as the show progresses - what aspects of John and Hunting he takes on and which he rejects #and this episode as OP explains already shines a light on some of that #Dean. Character of all time (via @ironworked)

spn20rewatch: 2.20 what is and what should never be

this has got to be in my top ten episodes of all time! there is so much i love about it! it has my favorite favorite scene and then my other FAVORITE FAVORITE SCENE!!!

but before we get there it has some wonderful dean character moments.

dean's confused, withdrawn, performative kiss with carmen!

this whole scene watching his face go from performance to confusion and worry and back and forth! he is so funny and i love him so much!

but this is also a cruel foreshadowing that the next two kisses dean has are him specifically sacrificing himself and his body as a means to an end.

but we're not there yet so let's just bask in THIS!

DEAN: Well, who'd'a thought, baby. We're civilians.

or THIIISSSSS!!!

DEAN Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a... MARY A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that. DEAN That's great.

or the way dean is so fucking happy to see jess and it's heartbreakingly sweet!

there is also so much that can be said about how even in dean's "dream world," he's the family fuck-up. he's never really thought much about his own future or himself but the best thing he can picture is his family (or most of them, HA!) alive and happy and safe. and i think there's a component of this where he has to remove himself (and John) in order to imagine it being possible. gutting honestly.

season two opens with dean yelling at john (though john can't hear him) and ends with dean crying at john's grave. i'm interested in the shared threads between these two iterations.

2.01

DEAN: I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given everything I've ever had.

2.20

DEAN: Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?" But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?

the speech in 2.20 is actually one of the very best explanations i feel we ever get for dean's relationship with john. because the issue is not only that john forced dean into hunting, it's that hunting saves people. like dean can rail against john and against his childhood that was stolen and against his future that will be stolen and against all the cruelty and harshness and ways he was parentified and it was subtly reinforced that his life literally mattered less than sam's or than strangers. but hunting does save people, goddammit and dean both cares so deeply about that on his own that many of these sacrifices would be freely chosen and he cannot fully hate or distance himself from his father because so much of what john did was actually just straightforwardly good.

abuse is messy. i think john winchester's characterization is perfect, actually.

dean can much more easily put to rest a father who played softball than a father who "got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad." (8.12)

like dean has to remove himself and john from their family's lives to picture their family getting a happy life. but for it to feel easy, he also has to make this father one who just worked at a body shop (i'm extrapolating) and played softball.

so yes, okay this episode is a nonstop thrill ride of beautiful, cute, wonderful dean moments and utter heartbreak. so of course, the next thing i have to say is THAT THIS SCENE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!!!! i can't stand it! (rip to the "I know how it sounds" that i didn't squeeze in because it was too long. because that line just kills me !!!!!)

but look look look!!!! he's so smooth and cunty AHHH

so it follows that what comes next is heartbreak. dean wants a future where mary is alive, where jess is alive, where sam is happy and safe and in college and alive. and it's not real and he can't have it and it will kill him but he wants to stay. so he stabs himself in the heart.

and in the next episode sam dies anyway.

... well here we are, this is already so long and i haven't even talked about my actual favorite scene. which also, i think, happens to be my favorite scene in all of supernatural....

Dean realizing one of the other of the djinn's victims is still alive and catching her as sam cuts her free.

DEAN: I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get you out of here, OK? I gotcha. I got you.

the way the fact that he's in pain and weak and drained is layered throughout the desperate care in his voice here.... besties i don't have words...

all hail 2.20

[panlight]

also continuing off the Informed Traits discussion, just how much of Caslisle's compassion/kindness is informed? Bella and Edward both make it seem like he's this saintly figure and pillar of goodness, but then there's moments where he does things that make you wonder if the view on him is just really rose-tinted.

Again, going back on BD where he invites his friends to witness and doesn't seem to care that they're hunting humans just outside forks/la push and let's them stay even after already knowing what their presence triggers the tribe to phase, the book also reveals that he took Jacob's blood sample to study without his consent?? Like a lab experiment???? (I learned this through a post showcasing that part in the book) Also in a podcast I listen to that discusses the plot of MS, he apparently fakes being Billy's distant relative (impersonating an indigenous person uhhmmm 😬) and, well,,,, lets just say I can see why some people think that entire phone call just gave colonizer vibes. AND!!! didn't he drug a woman to steal their car and kinda doesn't react much when they caused a massive car pileup??

On the one hand i dont mind if it's meant to show us that even Carlisle's sense of morality is flawed, but between Bella's "the Cullens are good to the core" and every time Edward talks about him in MS, it's feels more to me like another unreliable narrator trope.

This one is harder for me because, see, I want the compassion to be real because I think the concept of a vampire blessed/cursed with Super Compassion is legit fascinating! As I've said about 23470234 times, my favorite aspect of vampire stories is how they become a vampire, how you cope, the choices you make, what you accept and what you deny about your new reality. The idea that for this one guy, becoming a vampire made him even more compassionate is just the kind of twist on it that I've never seen anywhere else and I think it's really interesting, actually. A dud of a superpower, sure; the innate push-pull of vampire instincts vs super compassion compels me, though.

But obviously I can see where it comes from that it could be an unreliable narrator thing or outright lie. Or at least a show vs tell problem where we're told he's compassionate but actions suggests otherwise.

I think it falls apart in two major ways:

The protagonist-centered morality. Everything in the story is about facilitating the E/B romance. Carlisle's alleged compassion can only help that, he can't hinder it. They HAVE to move back to Forks so the story can happen, he can't say "huh maybe it's NOT compassionate to move back to a place where people know what we are and are terrified of us." He can't refuse to drug the soccer mom because they have to save Bella! He can't object to having witnesses gather in Forks and force more teenage boys to phase and put humans at risk of being eaten because we have to save Renesmee! He can compassionately offer Bree surrender, but neither he nor Esme can do any more than that to try and save her, because that would complicate Bella's upcoming wedding. The Bella-centricity of it all sits like a supermassive black hole in the middle of the story, disrupting the orbits and bending the light of the other characters.

Carlisle can't be any more compassionate than his author, and that limits him. We had a fandom discussion about this a few years ago, but basically because SM doesn't see the problems with how the Quileute characters are treated in the story, none of the characters can, either. I remember calling it the moral version of how Alice is supposed to be a fashionista, but because SM doesn't really know anything about high fashion, there's a lot of 'tell' about her being this fashion icon but the actual show of clothes in the story doesn't live up to it. Or Carlisle himself -- he's supposed to be this genius doctor who has studied medicine and science for centuries, but SM isn't a doctor or a scientist, so some of the stuff she makes him say doesn't live up to the idea she planted. SM totally missed the settler-colonial stuff, the dehumanizing language, etc etc, so none of the characters, not even Compassionate Carlisle or Power-of-Heart Esme can.

tl;dr I like to think the compassion is real but hindered by the narrative insisting on prioritizing the love story AND Carlisle being unable to be more compassionate than his author. But that's because I WANT it to be real because I think the concept is really interesting, even if the execution is lacking. I don't need or want him to be Perfect or a Saint, and I'm sure existing as a VAMPIRE of all things would naturally come into conflict with compassion all the time (examples in the book is him not wanting to kill James and it leading to the extended hunt instead; offering surrender to Bree but knowing if he goes against the Volturi they could kill the whole family; telling Sam in BD that this isn't his fight and 'don't get your family slaughtered for pride,' even as Sam insists they have to be there for Jacob and Jacob has to be there for Nessie [blargh].) and that struggle and how he deals with it when he's in a situation with no Compassionate choice is available would be great. Even that car chase in Midnight Sun could maybe work if the story gave Carlisle any room to protest until Alice insists it's the Only Way!!!! or whatever, and some follow up where like oh huh weird some random charity swooped in to pay all the medical bills of everyone involved in the pile-up and bought them all new cars. If Edward, Jasper, etc can't turn off their gifts, Carlisle shouldn't be able to either, even when being forced into uncompassionate actions. But SM doesn't care. She only cares about Carlisle, let alone his compassion, inasmuch as she needed a kindly father figure to set up the vegetarian vampire thing and for Bella to have a convenient doctor.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Under a grey sky

Bonus part

Older men oc x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story and is in his twenties

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: DtMF_bad Bunny

Debí tirar más fotos de cuando de tuve. Debi darte más besos y abrazos. Las veces que pude...

Translation : I should have taken more photos of when I had it. I should have given you more kisses and hugs. The times I could. (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

Sensitive souls please refrain. Sensitive subject. Death, cancer. I'm not making fun of anything. I'm just writing a story. As they say on Wattpad : I am responsible for what I write, you are responsible for what you read

..................................................................................

It was an evening like any other. The sky was overcast, threatening to rain. Y/n, apprentice baker, was finishing her day. She had spent hours crafting chocolate éclairs and apple tarts, her mind lost in the dream of owning her own bakery. But that night, her thoughts wandered. Too absorbed in calculating her savings, she hadn’t noticed the man crossing at a poorly lit street corner.

The screech of brakes. A thud.

Horrified, Y/n hurriedly got out of her small car. The man on the ground was still breathing, but a thin cut marked his forehead. She immediately called for help, her voice trembling with panic.

Armand opened his eyes in the hospital, disoriented. A dull ache pulsed through his head, and bandages covered his face. Yet what caught his attention was the young woman sitting by his bedside. Y/n was curled up in a chair, nervously twisting a tissue in her hands.

“You’re awake… I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her pleading eyes fixed on him.

Armand, a 39-year-old interior architect, looked at her curiously. Despite the pain, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“Don’t worry… It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious? I ran you over…”

“And yet, you’re here watching over me,” he replied lightly, trying to reassure her.

Y/n flushed deeply, but he continued, his gaze gentle:

“Go home. I’m fine, I promise.”

She hesitated but eventually obeyed. Yet the image of his comforting smile remained etched in her mind.

A few weeks later, as Y/n was decorating pastries in the bakery where she worked, the doorbell chimed. She glanced up briefly to greet the customer, but her gaze quickly returned to the tart she was preparing.

“Hello,” said a familiar voice.

She abruptly looked up. Standing before her was Armand, well-dressed, his bright smile hiding the slight scar on his forehead. She didn’t recognize him immediately.

“Do you have croissants?” he asked with a disarming ease.

“Yes, of course. Just a moment,” she replied, turning toward the display.

As she placed the croissants in a paper bag, he observed her with a hidden tenderness. She seemed more at ease here, in a world that felt made for her.

“You have a real talent,” he said suddenly.

Y/n blinked, surprised by the remark.

“Thank you… But how can you tell?”

“It’s obvious,” he said warmly. “I can see it in your movements.”

She blushed again, uncomfortable with such a sincere compliment.

Armand became a regular customer. Every morning, he stopped by for a coffee or pastry, finding excuses to exchange a few words with Y/n. He was interested in her work, her dreams.

“So, you want to open your own bakery?” he asked one day, taking a bite of a financier she had made.

She nodded timidly.

“Yes… But it’s still a long way off. I need to save, learn, and find the right place.”

“You’ll make it,” he said with conviction.

His encouragements touched her, but she never dared to ask him personal questions. She was too shy to dig deeper. Meanwhile, Armand found himself increasingly fascinated by her. Her passion, her reserve, and even her clumsiness made him smile.

One evening, as he worked on an architectural project in his office, Armand found his thoughts drifting. He realized he looked forward to seeing her every morning. But he couldn’t ignore the age gap between them.

“She’s in her twenties,” he murmured to himself. “She has so much to live, so much to discover.”

Yet he couldn’t deny the emotions growing within him. Every smile, every exchanged word gave him a thrill he hadn’t felt in years.

One day, as he waited in line at the bakery, he placed a book on the counter. It was a French pastry manual, thick and adorned with vibrant photos.

“For you,” he said with a smile.

Y/n stared at him, puzzled.

“Why…?”

“Because I believe in your dreams,” he said simply.

She clutched the book to her chest, moved by his gesture.

“Thank you… It’s… it’s a lot.”

For the first time, she looked up at him and held his gaze a little longer. An invisible butterfly stirred in Armand’s stomach.

Their relationship evolved slowly, like dough rising under a damp cloth. Y/n found herself waiting for his visits, listening for the bell to chime. Armand, for his part, took his time, respecting her pace, admiring every facet of her personality.

One day, as they shared a brioche fresh from the oven, he softly murmured:

“Y/n… You’re like this brioche.”

She looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soft. And… you bring a warmth that isn’t always noticed at first, but it lingers long after.”

She blushed, lowering her eyes, but this time, she didn’t look away completely.

It was the beginning of a fragile yet sincere love, built on glances, gestures, and shared dreams. A love that, like a good pastry, required patience and care.

---

Weeks Passed, but Armand’s Ambition Remained Intact

Weeks went by, but Armand’s ambition remained unshaken. He was a determined man, always immersed in his work, pushing his limits day after day. His architectural projects consumed more of his life than he cared to admit, and every minute of inaction felt like wasted time. Yet deep inside, something grew stronger every time he crossed paths with Y/n: love.

But he was caught in a spiral. He saw their age difference as an undeniable obstacle he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t want Y/n to get lost in a relationship that, in his mind, had no future. She was young, full of dreams, and he… he was already in a different phase of life. He had made choices, sacrificed moments of leisure to achieve his goals.

One evening, after an especially long day, Armand went to the bakery as usual, hoping for a light conversation, a little comfort in Y/n’s small gestures. But something wasn’t right. The stress of his job, his grueling hours, the constant pressure, and lack of sleep weighed heavily on him. He entered the bakery, heading toward the counter, his tired gaze fixed on her.

“Hello,” she said softly, a shy smile on her lips as always. She didn’t know he’d had an especially difficult day.

“I need a coffee, strong,” he murmured, his tone sharper than he intended.

She looked at him for a moment, surprised by the coldness in his voice. But she didn’t respond, simply preparing his order with calm concentration. When she handed him the cup, their hands brushed briefly, and he felt a dull tension rise within him. She was so gentle, so calm. She seemed worlds away from his own turmoil.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to talk about his job, his frustrations. But instead of responding, his words came out more abruptly than he intended.

“Why do you always worry about everyone? Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s not your job to take everything on yourself.”

She flinched, her eyes widening at his harsh tone. He immediately realized his mistake, but he couldn’t seem to regain control of the situation. He had acted impulsively, without thinking. The fatigue and stress had overridden his usual gentleness.

Y/n remained silent, her gaze lowering. She didn’t know what to say, but the hurt was clear on her face. Normally so understanding, so kind, she now felt deeply wounded.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a long pause. “I… I just wanted to offer you a little… comfort.”

He looked at her, ashamed of his words. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, but his nerves were frayed. Watching her retreat in silence made his heart ache.

The next morning, Armand arrived at the bakery earlier than usual, his mind tormented by the events of the previous evening. He had spent the night reflecting on his behavior, knowing he owed her an apology. But seeing her behind the counter, arranging the morning pastries, he realized he couldn’t bear to hurt her any further.

He waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he approached cautiously, a bit hesitant.

“Y/n… I’m sorry about yesterday. I was… I was overwhelmed, and I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

She didn’t respond immediately, and he saw doubt flicker in her eyes. He knew his words had deeply hurt her, and the thought gnawed at him.

“It wasn’t about you,” he added, his tone calmer, almost gentle. “It’s just… it’s hard for me to balance everything I need to do.”

She looked at him for a moment, then lowered her gaze, as if his apology wasn’t enough to erase the sting of his behavior. But instead of retreating into her usual silence, she offered a small gesture of understanding.

“I understand,” she said softly, but with a gentleness that instantly eased his heart. “It’s just… sometimes, we forget to rest. And that hurts you too, doesn’t it?”

Armand stood in silence for a moment, surprised by her insight. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He had been so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t realized how much the tension was hurting him from the inside.

“Yes,” he said after a pause, his voice rougher than he intended. “Sometimes, I’m so focused on what I want to accomplish that I forget to stop, to breathe.”

She nodded slightly, a timid smile brushing her lips. She understood what it meant to be swept up in dreams and ambitions, forgetting to care for oneself.

That evening, Armand went home replaying their conversation in his mind. He knew he was still far from understanding everything that was happening between him and Y/n. But one thing was clear: he loved her, and he didn’t want her to suffer because of his own shortcomings.

He also knew he had to change. Not for her. But for himself. And perhaps, in that process, they could learn to understand and love each other in a healthier, gentler way. Because Y/n deserved to be cherished, with no room for anger or exhaustion.

And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if finding balance between his dreams and his feelings was the true key to his happiness.

---

Armand’s project had consumed every fiber of his being. For months, he had poured his heart and soul into it, investing his time, ideas, and ambitions. He had imagined, designed, and created with the hope that his work would finally be recognized. He knew the moment was approaching—the moment his project would be unveiled to the public, the moment his name would finally be associated with success. And that moment came.

But it wasn’t what he had envisioned.

The day the project was praised, with critics unanimously lauding its quality, Armand felt a strange coldness seep into him. It wasn’t pride. Nor elation. It was emptiness. A void. His superior, someone who hadn’t contributed a single idea, had taken all the glory. His name shone in the headlines, while Armand’s was nowhere to be found.

He was devastated. And yet, he felt nothing. No anger. No frustration. Only an endless fatigue, a deep exhaustion.

He wanted to scream, to overturn everything around him, but his muscles were paralyzed. He couldn’t even move. He couldn’t scream. His mind was blank, as if everything he had lived, everything he had accomplished, had been swallowed by an ocean of silence. His hands trembled slightly, but he couldn’t even lift them. It all seemed so futile, so insignificant.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the sense of loss. Of betrayal. Of frustration. He hated himself for not being able to feel the injustice more intensely, for not being able to scream, to fight. Why couldn’t he react the way he wanted? Why did he feel like an empty man, a broken man without the strength to get back up?

That evening, he returned home, devoid of any enthusiasm. He collapsed on his couch, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes. The air in the room felt heavy, almost oppressive. It was as if he were breathing in a space too small, drowning in a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t even organize.

It was far too late when he finally stepped outside. He didn’t even know why he left or what he was hoping for. Maybe it was the anxiety driving him out, or perhaps the need to be alone with his thoughts in the silence of the night.

The park was deserted, lit only by a few solitary streetlights. He sat on a bench under one of them and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face. The sounds of the city felt distant, muffled by the stillness of the place. He felt so far from everything, so disconnected from reality.

That’s when he saw her. Y/n. She was walking alone in the park, probably after her workday. When she noticed him, she stopped for a moment, seemingly surprised to see him there at such a late hour. He slowly lifted his head to look at her, expressionless. He didn’t have the strength to smile. Nor the strength to pretend.

Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze uncertain but gentle. She seemed hesitant, unsure if she should disturb him. But she didn’t need words to know she should sit beside him. She said nothing, offering only her quiet presence.

The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but rather… soothing. She didn’t need to ask questions. Somehow, she knew he needed this moment of calm.

And that’s when Armand felt the first tears well up. He tried to hold them back, to stop them from falling, but it was no use. They began to stream down his face, slowly, gently, like a river cascading down a mountain, carrying away all the pain, all the frustration he had suppressed for so long.

The tears wouldn’t stop, one after another, breaking the silence of the night. He let himself go, giving in to the flood of emotions he had ignored for far too long. His body trembled as he leaned toward Y/n, unable to control the shaking.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him. He let himself lean into her, his face buried in her shoulder, the tears flowing endlessly. There was no shame in the gesture. No pride. Just the need to feel safe, to let go.

Y/n, silent, held him gently. She didn’t say anything, but she was there for him. That was all that mattered. She could feel the pain in his movements, in his cries, and she knew he wasn’t asking for anything other than understanding, support without judgment.

In her arms, Armand allowed himself to completely let go, his heart heavy but unburdened from the weight that had suffocated him for so long. He had finally stopped holding back his emotions, stopped repressing his pain. Y/n offered him the freedom to cry without judgment, without pressure.

Eventually, the tears subsided, though the emptiness lingered. Yet something had shifted. That emptiness, though still present, felt less insurmountable. He knew he wouldn’t face it alone. Y/n had accepted him without demanding answers, without imposing expectations. She had simply offered her heart, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged.

---

The silence stretched between them, but this time, it was soothing. Y/n didn’t move; she stayed there, her arms around him, like an anchor in a calm sea. She understood that sometimes, words weren’t necessary. She felt the tension in his muscles gradually ease, and she knew that, little by little, he was regaining control over his emotions.

Armand eventually pulled away slightly, his breathing still uneven. His eyes were red, but they no longer held that empty expression. In Y/n’s embrace, he had found something precious—a peace he hadn’t sought but that had found him. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her.

“Thank you…” he murmured, his voice broken but full of gratitude.

Y/n smiled softly, her eyes gentle and reassuring. She didn’t need a response, but her gaze spoke volumes. She wasn’t judging him. She wasn’t trying to fix him. She was simply there, by his side, and that was enough.

“I’m here, Armand,” she said simply, her voice soft but filled with tenderness. Nothing more needed to be said.

A faint smile crossed Armand’s lips, but it wasn’t forced. It was genuine—a gratitude he never thought he could feel so purely.

He stood up slowly, taking a deep breath. The night was calm around them, but something within him had shifted. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying had lifted, and he felt lighter, even if only for the moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he offered, his tone now calmer.

She shook her head gently, a small hint of mischief in her eyes.

“No, I’m fine. But thank you. It’s… nice to be here, with you.”

He nodded, accepting her answer, though he felt a new warmth stir within him. It wasn’t just gratitude. He felt a connection, something deep silently weaving between them, without the need for words to express it. He knew that what he had just shared with her, this moment of vulnerability, could never be forgotten.

They remained there for a little while longer, enjoying the tranquility of the night. At some point, though, the silence became lighter, almost playful.

Armand turned to Y/n, his eyes now holding a spark of admiration he had felt for her since their first meeting. He looked at her, and this time, he didn’t see her as timid, fragile, or different from him. No. He saw her simply as Y/n—the person who, with a simple gesture of understanding, had brought him a kind of calm, a kind of peace he hadn’t known for a long time.

“You know, you’re really incredible,” he said softly, his voice both sincere and filled with tenderness.

Y/n blushed slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. She was used to hiding her emotions, retreating into shyness. But that night, something about him encouraged her to be more open.

“Thank you,” she replied with a small smile. “But… I think we help each other.”

He smiled at her response. He didn’t need more words. He understood. They understood each other.

The days that followed felt different. Armand woke up in the morning with a slightly lighter burden on his shoulders. He continued to work, but he found himself appreciating the small things around him—things he had neglected for far too long. He spent more time reflecting on his life choices, his priorities, and what he truly wanted to achieve. But more than that, he started considering how he let his ambitions consume him.

And Y/n. He thought of her often. He hadn’t immediately seen her as someone who could help him through his moments of weakness, but he was beginning to realize that she might be the one who had shown him the path to a balance he had never sought before but was now striving to find.

For her part, Y/n seemed calmer too. She hadn’t tried to force her way into his world or immediately uncover the reasons behind his pain. She had simply listened, offering her support without expectations. She had always been a determined, dream-filled woman, but she understood that life had its own rhythm and that sometimes, stepping back was all it took to see things differently.

It wasn’t a fiery, explosive relationship, nor an all-consuming love story. It was gentler, calmer, like a quiet river. A love that grew in small gestures, in shared silences, in quiet laughter, and late-night conversations. They were learning about each other slowly but surely.

Armand knew he still had battles to fight. He also knew his responsibilities would pull him back into the whirlwind of work. But what he knew even more was that Y/n, with her quiet light and her gentle strength, would always be there, by his side. And perhaps, this budding relationship—fragile and uncertain as it might be—would become the key to a balance he had long sought without realizing it.

---

The little bakery, bathed in soft, warm light, was soothingly quiet. The last customers had long since left, and only Y/n remained behind the counter, meticulously tidying up the utensils, her precise movements reflecting her love for her craft. Armand stood in front of her, his hands buried in his pockets, looking unusually nervous.

He had rehearsed this confession in his head dozens of times. He had written a letter, carefully folded in the inside pocket of his jacket, just in case he forgot everything he wanted to say. But now, standing there in front of her, his thoughts seemed to unravel with each heartbeat.

Y/n finally looked up at him, intrigued by his uncharacteristic silence.

“Armand? Is something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

He pulled out the letter, hesitating.

“I… I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice rough, almost inaudible.

He placed the letter on the counter, but as he was about to hand it to her, his hand accidentally knocked over a cup of coffee left nearby. The brown liquid spread across the paper in an instant, soaking the carefully written words until the ink became a blur of illegible smudges.

Y/n, initially surprised, watched the scene before bursting into laughter.

“Oh no… You really planned everything, didn’t you?” she said, her playful smile lighting up her face.

Armand, initially panicked, began to laugh nervously too.

“Yes… Well, not exactly this,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.

Y/n’s laughter faded gently, but the smile remained. She looked at him, curious, waiting for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. So much for the letter. There was no escape now.

“Y/n… I’ll be honest—I’m terrible at expressing how I feel, especially about something this important. But I’m going to try.”

She stood still, her hands folded on the counter, her eyes fixed on him.

“For a while now, I… I’ve been struggling with how I feel about you. Not because I doubt what it is, but because I doubt… myself.”

She furrowed her brows slightly but said nothing, giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“You’re young, Y/n, full of dreams, talent, and life. You have your whole future ahead of you. And me… I’m…”

He paused, searching for the right word, but none came.

“I’m already in a world where I’m fighting just to stay standing. Where I work too much, where I’m always tired. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m just… an obstacle for you.”

Y/n opened her mouth, ready to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her gently.

“Wait, let me finish, please.”

She nodded, though her gaze softened.

“For the longest time, I told myself you’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give you everything you deserve. Someone who could make you happy in ways I can’t. But every time I tried to let go of that idea… I couldn’t. Because the truth is, I want to be that person for you. Even if I’m imperfect. Even if I’m not the obvious choice.”

He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes filled with a vulnerability he had never shown anyone before.

“I love you, Y/n. Not in some grand, dramatic way, but in a simple, honest way. I love you because you’re you—with your shy smiles, your passion for what you do, your way of always seeing the best in others… And I know I’m clumsy, that maybe I don’t deserve this, but I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Y/n, her cheeks slightly flushed, seemed to be searching for the right words, her fingers playing with the edge of her apron. Then, slowly, she smiled.

“You know, Armand,” she murmured, “you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“What I love about you isn’t some perfection you think you have to reach. What I love is you. Your clumsiness, your seriousness, the way you look at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I’ve never wanted someone perfect. I just want you.”

This time, it was his turn to be speechless. She leaned slightly over the counter, reducing the distance between them.

“I love you too, Armand,” she added, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Even if you’re incredibly clumsy sometimes.”

He burst out laughing, relieved, and this time, the laughter was pure, sincere, full of a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So… you’ll have me, despite everything?” he asked, a hesitant smile on his lips.

She nodded, her smile widening.

“Yes. But only if you promise never to write letters next to a cup of coffee again.”

They laughed together once more, and in that shared moment of joy, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them. It wasn’t a perfect confession, nor a scene straight out of a romantic movie. It was clumsy, sincere, full of laughter and shyness. But it was them. Just them.

---

The months had flown by, and their relationship had blossomed in a quiet, unexpected way. Armand and Y/n had found their rhythm, balancing Armand’s busy workdays with the long hours Y/n spent in her bakery perfecting her recipes. Their love was sincere, built on small daily gestures and shared silences that spoke volumes.

They had celebrated Y/n’s victory in the pastry competition together. That day, she had climbed the stage, trembling but radiant, to receive her trophy. Armand had watched her with unwavering pride, as if she had just reached for the stars. They spent the evening laughing and celebrating in a way that felt simple and true to them.

But a few weeks after that moment of glory, their happiness was brutally interrupted.

Y/n had begun feeling pain in her lower abdomen and a fatigue she could no longer ignore. At first, she thought it was due to stress or overwork and delayed seeking medical advice. But one day, Armand insisted she see a doctor.

The diagnosis hit like a thunderbolt: terminal cancer, already too advanced to treat.

When Y/n walked out of the consultation room, her legs trembled. Armand, who had been waiting in the hallway, stood up immediately upon seeing her expression.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then, with trembling hands, she reached out and grabbed his.

“I… I only have a few months left,” she finally murmured, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Armand felt his heart shatter, as though the ground had been pulled out from under him. But he didn’t let the panic take over. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if that simple gesture could shield her from everything.

The shock of the diagnosis changed them. Y/n, initially terrified, found the strength to smile again thanks to Armand. He, though devastated inside, became her pillar of support. Together, they made a decision: they would not let this illness steal the time they had left.

They began crossing dreams off Y/n’s list. A weekend in a small cabin by the lake, where they fished together and stargazed. A day spent at a bustling market, tasting dishes they’d never dared to try before. And, of course, hours spent in the bakery’s kitchen, experimenting with new recipes Y/n had dreamed up.

One evening, as they kneaded brioche dough together, Y/n suddenly stopped, her hands covered in flour.

“You know, Armand…” she began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“I think… even if I’d known all of this beforehand… I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He looked at her, surprised.

“Nothing?”

She nodded, a sad but sincere smile on her lips.

“Because meeting you, loving you… it was worth it.”

Armand felt his throat tighten. He stepped closer and gently wiped a smear of flour from her forehead.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmured.

A few months after the diagnosis, Y/n was weaker, but she refused to let it defeat her. It was the day of the event they had planned to share her final pastry creations with her loved ones and loyal customers.

The little bakery was filled with laughter and joy. Armand watched her from a distance, marveling at the way she lit up the room despite her visible exhaustion. At one point, she caught his gaze and walked over to him.

“You know, I saved the best for you,” she said, handing him a small box adorned with a ribbon.

He opened it to find a delicate dessert, carefully crafted.

“I named it ‘Renaissance,’ because… even when something ends, there’s always a part of life that remains.”

He looked at her, moved, and whispered:

“Y/n, you are my renaissance.”

That night, under a starry sky, they sat on the bench in the park where it had all begun. Y/n, nestled against him, felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“Armand… you’ve given me so much more than I could have imagined,” she murmured.

He shook his head.

“You’re the one who’s taught me everything. To love, to live…”

She looked up at him, her tired eyes filled with love.

“Then promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“When I’m gone, live for both of us. Live so fully that people will say Y/n taught you how to smile.”

Armand felt the tears well up but nodded, unable to speak. He etched that moment into his heart, as an eternal promise.

Y/n couldn’t change her fate, but she had turned their love into a light that would never fade.

---

The months had passed, and Y/n’s condition had worsened. Yet, she tried to maintain her smile, like a shield against the pain—for Armand, and for herself.

That morning, Armand arrived at Y/n’s place with a box filled with croissants he had carefully chosen from a bakery she particularly loved. But when he knocked on the door and she didn’t answer, a wave of worry washed over him.

“Y/n? It’s me, Armand.”

The silence was oppressive. After a few moments of waiting, he pulled out the spare key she had entrusted to him. When he opened the door, the familiar scent of lavender and flour greeted him, but the atmosphere felt strangely still. He hurried upstairs, his heart pounding.

“Y/n?”

In the bedroom, Y/n was still lying in bed. She slowly opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, but something in her gaze had changed. She seemed… distant. Armand approached her, and that’s when he noticed the strands of hair scattered across the pillow. Her once vibrant hair was almost all gone.

She reached a hand to her head, then lowered her eyes to the strands. A faint “Ah…” escaped her lips, barely audible, as if she no longer had the strength to react.

Armand felt a dull pain crush his heart. That indifference, that emptiness in her voice—it was worse than any tears she could have shed.

“Y/n…” he whispered, kneeling beside her.

But she didn’t respond. Slowly, mechanically, she got up to get ready.

He stayed there, motionless, his eyes fixed on the empty pillow, his trembling fingers clutching the wrinkled sheet. She was moving forward, but he felt her slipping away, like a wisp of wind he couldn’t hold onto.

A few months later, despite Y/n’s obvious weakness, Armand organized a small evening just for the two of them. He wanted to give her a moment of lightness, a little escape.

They laughed. They talked about memories, unfinished dreams, and even joked about how Armand could never bake a cake without burning it.

Y/n, tired but glowing, rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know… I think I’ve never been happier than I’ve been with you,” she murmured.

Armand gently stroked what was left of her hair and kissed her forehead.

“You are my life, Y/n.”

She looked up at him, a peaceful smile on her lips.

“Then keep living, even after me.”

That was their last conversation.

That night, Y/n fell asleep in his arms. Armand, however, couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He preferred to watch her, to engrave every detail into his memory: the softness of her features, the rhythm of her breath in the silence, the fragile warmth of her hand in his.

In the early morning, sunlight timidly peeked through the curtains. Armand opened his eyes and immediately felt something was wrong. Y/n was still—too still.

“Y/n?” he called softly, his voice filled with a hope he knew was futile.

He touched her cheek—it was cold.

“No… no,” he murmured, tears welling in his eyes.

He held her in his arms, gently rocking her, as if saying a final goodbye. Her face was peaceful, as though she had simply fallen asleep after a beautiful evening. But for Armand, the world collapsed in that moment.

The days that followed were dark, but Armand found strength in the memories they had shared. Y/n had taught him how to love, how to live fully, and he knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to drown in despair.

He kept the notebook where she had written her recipes and thoughts, and he worked to keep the promise he had made to her: to live for the both of them.

A year later, Armand opened a small bakery, which he named Y/n’s Light. Each creation carried a piece of her, a tribute to her talent and her brilliance.

And every morning, when he saw the smiles of customers enjoying what she had inspired, he felt her presence beside him. Y/n may not have had all the time she deserved, but her love—her light—was eternal.

---

Days passed, yet Armand continued to visit the cemetery regularly. Under the weeping willow, Y/n rested in the peaceful spot he had chosen carefully for her. He often spoke to the grave as if she were still there, sharing his achievements, doubts, and even the mundane stories of his day.

He decorated the gravestone with care. At Christmas, he brought small garlands and winter flowers. At Easter, he left colorful eggs and sweets he had prepared while thinking of her. The engraved photo on the stone smiled back at him, soft and almost alive.

But one day, something changed.

As part of his new project—renovating an orphanage—Armand immersed himself in his work. He wanted to create a warm, welcoming space where children could feel all the love they deserved.

One afternoon, while discussing the plans with a nun, he passed by the nursery. His gaze was drawn to a group of infants sleeping peacefully, their soft breaths filling the room with a calming rhythm.

That’s when he noticed a little girl, apart from the others. She cooed softly, observing the world with curious but timid eyes. Her cries were gentle, almost hesitant, as if unsure whether she should ask for attention.

Armand froze, his heart clenching. She reminded him of Y/n. Not physically, but in the fragile sweetness she radiated.

In the days that followed, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The idea of adopting her became an undeniable calling, almost as if Y/n had sent him a sign.

A few weeks later, after completing all the necessary procedures, he finally welcomed the little girl into his home. He named her Y/n, in honor of the woman who had changed his life.

Four months passed. Little Y/n clung to Armand as if afraid he might disappear. Her smile, her clumsy laughter, her first attempts to stand on her tiny legs—everything about her rekindled a light he thought he had lost.

One morning, Armand made a decision. He wanted to introduce little Y/n to her “mother.”

He prepared a simple picnic, packing bottles for the baby and snacks for himself.

When he arrived at the grave, he paused for a moment, his eyes on Y/n’s engraved photo.

“Hello, Y/n,” he murmured.

Little Y/n, nestled against him, babbled softly, her big curious eyes following the willow leaves dancing in the wind. Armand knelt before the grave, spread out the blanket he had brought, and gently placed the baby on it.

“I brought someone to meet you today,” he said, a fragile smile on his lips.

He sat facing the gravestone and placed little Y/n on his lap.

“This is Y/n. She has your name. I couldn’t think of a more perfect name for her…”

He ran a tender hand through the baby’s short, soft hair as she played with a fallen willow leaf.

“She’s incredible, you know. Every day, she reminds me that life can still be beautiful, even after everything.”

He spoke for hours, sharing stories, thoughts, and promises he wanted to keep.

“I’m doing my best to be a good father. It’s not always easy… sometimes I wonder if I’m enough. But she trusts me, Y/n, just like you trusted me.”

The little girl let out a joyful cry as she spotted a butterfly fluttering nearby. Armand laughed—a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in a long time.

“You see? Even a butterfly fascinates her. She has your way of finding beauty everywhere.”

He leaned forward slightly, bringing little Y/n closer to the gravestone as if to introduce her properly to her mother.

“ Say hi to Mama” he whispered tenderly.

The baby didn’t understand what was happening, but when she saw the photo on the grave, she cheerfully held out a flower she had picked earlier and babbled joyfully. The gesture brought a smile to Armand’s face.

“See, Y/n? This little one already loves you.”

As the sun began to set, Armand rose slowly, holding little Y/n close to him.

"In another life, I hope it's you and me... I beg God that it's still you and me. I hope we will be happy together, Maybe we can love each other and... grow old together?" The little y/n in his arms suddenly lets out a chirp, as if to make her presence felt. Armand laughs despite his tears that threaten to flow. "Yes, and that the three of us can form a beautiful and happy family" he said, playing with his daughter's little hand. "Until then, I'll take care of her for both of us. Promise, my love."

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking at the gravestone one last time. “Thank you for everything you’ve given me.”

He placed one final flower on the grave before walking away.

On the way home, little Y/n fell asleep in his arms. Armand, however, walked with a lighter step. That day, under the weeping willow, he felt something shift. It wasn’t a goodbye, but a new chapter—a bridge between the love he had lost and the love he had found.

And he knew he would return to that willow, again and again, to share the joys and sorrows of the life he was building for the two of them.

..................................................................................

Next part

Tags list : @elizalabs3 @slvt4her

[thethirdromana]

I get when people don't write diverse characters out of prejudice, but I don't understand when they do it out of laziness, because diversity is the easiest One Simple Trick to creating interesting characters that I know of.

Soldier who has gone into the army to follow in his father's footsteps: dull, seen it a thousand times.

Soldier who has gone into the army to follow in his father's footsteps, and he's trans: immediately more interesting! What's his relationship with his dad like now? Did the transition come before enlisting or after? How much does the army figure in what masculinity means to him?

White character in early medieval England: just the default, this is 99% of people.

North African character in early medieval England: historically plausible and fascinating! What are their daily experiences like? What was their (or their ancestors') journey to England like, and what prompted it? What kinds of things have they seen?

The Chosen One is a white boy in his late teens or early 20s: I have read this so very, very many times.

The Chosen One is literally anything other than that: please tell me more! How do people react when they see someone like this fulfilling the quest or prophecy? How does it affect their relationship with their new destiny?

Yes, representation matters, but it's also just a very very easy way to make your story more interesting.

[consultingfujoshi]

REALLY GOOD ADDITION FROM @cowboyidiot. yes I think its fascinating how outie helena and irving are both very much following their own agendas, they both became severed because they have a mission and and point to prove and now we know irving is working with someone, likely both a heavy load of expectations placed on them to perform a certain way - and it's made doubly interesting by the fact that their innies are, whether they know it or not, actively working to undermine their respective agendas. helena is the heiress of lumon and has to deal with her innie taking every opportunity to put her company's reputation at risk. irving is very clearly working to infiltrate and take down lumon from the inside, and his innie has done little other than be lumon's biggest cheerleader since his creation three years ago. both of these characters appear to view their innies as an extension of their will, a means of furthering their ends, but both failed to account for the fact they've basically just created a whole new person with goals and desires of their own and they have ZERO control over what they do down there.

you're very right about the core self being essentially the same but shaped into something completely different by their experiences or lack thereof. irving said so himself, that he was shapeless when he arrived at lumon, and he took on the shape that was presented to him. the same goes for all the severed employees. that same self-righteous and determined attitude that helena eagan has, without the massively privileged and sheltered upbringing and training in the values of her family's company to shape it into a cold and corporate force, manifests in helly r as outright anarchism and refusal to bow to anyone's will but her own. and that same one-track minded craving for a sense of meaning and purpose that drives irving bailiff to deprive himself of sleep for years in the hopes of finding out more about what he's seen, without his lived experiences and understanding of the world around him, manifests in irving b as a perfect canvas for indoctrination into a cult-like dedication to the only form of community he can find down there.

both innies and outies are, at their core, the same bundle of personality, the same wants and desires. but it is history which shapes us, and as we are exposed to more and more experiences, our sense of who we are inevitably changes. so yes, I'm very excited to see if there's any more convergence between the innies and outies. we've definitely seen innie irv become disillusioned with lumon and start to act more like the cynical and determined man we now know exists on the outside. and in this episode, we saw the first cracks start to show for helena upon seeing that her innie has a kind of freedom she has never been allowed. what other changes are we going to see as they learn more about what their alternate selves have been up to?

I'm starting to think that maybe outie irving sees his innie in a similar way that helena does, ie. a tool he can use to further his own ends. he's clearly got a plan, and he chose to become severed to advance that plan somehow. is he going to be shocked or even angry to find out his innie has spent the last 3 years worshipping the company he's been trying to infiltrate from the outside? he literally created his innie for the purpose of bringing down lumon, and you're telling him he's actually the MDR hall monitor and lumon's biggest cheerleader?? will he freak out if he finds out he's been down there falling in love and getting his heart broken and wanting to LEAVE because of it instead of trying to find the testing floor hallway? innie irv's reaction to breaking out is like the total opposite of what his outie would have wanted if you ask me based on how he immediately goes to tell whoever he's working with that his innie got the "message" (saw the paintings) and that probably means to expect forward movement in whatever their plans are, and instead of pursuing it innie irv wants to leave the severed floor forever. what would outie irv's reaction be if dylan had let him walk out into that stairwell. would he have walked right back in like helena did on her first day?

[kars-stan-3000]

About me:

Hello, you can call me Joni - I was born in 2005 and I am a writer, drawer, cosplayer and general content creator.

My pronouns are she/they/he/it - feel free to use whatever for me, I do not mind at all. I am a genderfluid lesbian, taken and I love my girlfriend. My account is a safe space, intended to support and welcome anyone and create a safe community.

I vow to do that for you all.

Anyway, so let's get into who I am.

My interests:

Jojo's bizzare adventure 🗣 (main, if you can't tell)

My favourite jojo characters are here (in a tier list, relatively in order too)

I am the real-life embodiment of Jonathan and Giorno - call me a real-life JoJo with the way I capture the Joestar genes.

I love making tier lists. I have loads of them.

Creating (art, stories, cosplays)

I like to create - it's my biggest passion, which will definitely be on my blogs. I draw and write mostly jojo fan-material, so that's a heads up.

I'm planning on getting into cosplay, I have a list and everything I need to buy planned out just don't have the finance to YET but I will start, soon, probably going to post about my cosplans next.

Music

I quite literally listen to anything, I love music - having studied it at school I just appreciate music as a whole. I love goth music (thanks to my girlfriend for supplying me with a fantastic playlist), I love anything alternative, I adore the jojo ost - I think the creativity behind them is magnificent, I listen to some classical music, jazz, pop - literally anything.

I think music is the window to the soul, it's the easiest way to communicate for me, I use music to not only cope BUT I also use music to express emotions that I usually can't express. Music is addicting, I truly appreciate the creativity that musicians have.

My princess (my girlfriend)

I love my girlfriend, she's the greatest, prettiest most stunning goddess on earth and there's nothing you can do to hope to compare to her (sorry), she's so perfect, my darling girl needs to know how gorgeous she is to me. #needthat

Me and my wife, gonna wife her up one day, she's literally stunning (ps, she's Abbacchio, I'm Bucciarati)

Jojos 🗣‼️

Top five (if you didn't see the tier list above):

Secco - my SON, I LOVE MY SON - my son is amazing, if you don't like Secco you can FUCK OFF

Giorno - literally me. Trauma, personality, everything is the same as myself I relate HEAVILY to Giorno, my beautiful Giorno

Jonathan - literally me, I love Jonathan, he's so sweet

Jotaro - my HUSBAND, oh my God I LOVE Jotaro, he is amazing, well written, complex just perfect (bonus, I LOVE Star Platinum)

Dio - I love Dio, they are complicated, well written, layered, they look amazing #needthat, my KING, I adore Dio, one of the best villains I've read so far - my genderfluid, bisexual pretty vampire

Haven't finished it yet, so I don't have a favourite part at the moment - however, I just love it as a whole, it's all amazing

My top ten Stands:

Star Platinum

The World

Cream

Metallica

Baby Face

Oasis

Heaven's Door

The Greatful Dead

Golden Experience

White Album

My favourite groups in jojos:

The Pillar Men (including Santana): I LOVE the Pillar Men, they are amazing, I adore them - I would have them all as my top favourites BUT they're not because there are characters I like more, I just love the Pillar Men for different reasons. I love their lore, their dynamic, their everything is just. Yes. Perfect. Beautiful

La Squadra: UNDERRATED in all hell, I love La Squadra, all the characters are funny, their designs are cool, I love their Stands, their lore, the reason behind why they are doing everything they do in part 5 is just amazing - their storyline is beautifully tragic

Any group in jojos that contains Jotaro: must I explain? I will anyway, I love Jotaro and the groups he's a part of all have beautifully intricate dynamics and I find the way they're all written to be fascinating

Bucci gang: I love Bucciarati's group, their dynamic is the best by far - I love their found family vibe and heavily lean into that in all my fandom creations

Dio's followers (minus the REALLY SHITTY ONES (you all know)): solely because I think it's absurd about the Stands and people they chose like what???

My art:

I usually study Araki's art style, I love developing my own skill whilst studying his creations because his style literally blew life into my own creativity - if it wasn't for jojo I fear I wouldn't be able to create anymore, my burnout was BAD, terrible even, until I was introduced to jojos thanks to my girlfriend.

I can't wait to share my art and I hope when I improve enough to be able to do commissions, I can't YET but I will be doing commissions when I feel ready to.

I draw anything sfw and nsfw (just because I can, I think it's funny) - although my favourite things to draw are jojo characters or jojo ocs, I know I know you're probably tired of jojos but I am NOT.

Jojos saved my creativity.

Interactions, moots and important stuff:

I am usually friendly to anyone, as I said this is a safe space, unless you are the following (aka my dni):

General dni, (r*cist, p*do, anti-lgbt etc)

Pro-ship (please fuck off)

Infantalising, stereotyping, demonising and sexualising mental health issues, disorders, disabilities (mental and physical) and any other issues - get the fuck off my page you sad little shits

THOSE art critics who "fix" other art non-consensually

People who sexualise alternative people - again, fuck off

I highly encourage the following to interact though:

Jojo fans

Artists, writers, cosplayers

Goths

Lgbtqia+

If you want to be a mutual, then feel free to dm me to talk bout it! I have a few images below that summarise my interests, I am always ALWAYS willing to talk to people.

^ Kira Yoshikage, drawn by yours truly (I love this, it's an old character study) ^

Alt accounts and my wife:

Check out this account, this is my darling: @miistafucker

Here are all my alts (can not figure out how to mention them so take the links) -

Giorno - the-real-giorno

This is my ART BLOG ✨️

I upload my art here, mostly, love that for me - anyway, yeah so this is full of my art process, sketches and my journey and all that - because I adore art and want to share that

Dio - king-dio

This is my COSPLAY BLOG 🗣‼️

This is where I post my cosplay journey, talk about it etc, follow this is you wanna keep up with that

Santana - sleepy-santana

This is my jojo content that is NOT art or fanfic based

This is where I post any other jojo content, usually theories, memes, thoughts and feelings etc

Joni - joni-joestar

This is my REAL BLOG 💯

This is where I post rants; things that bother me, my girlfriend, my personal thoughts and feelings - kind of like a personal, general blog

Melone - melone-the-freakazoid

This is my WRITERS BLOG 😈

This is where I post fanfiction (specifically jojo fanfiction), I love Melone so based this one off of Melone because it makes me laugh, if you like fanfiction follow along here to have a regular flow of fan made material

Rohan - i-am-rohan-kishibe

This is my OFFICIAL PORTFOLIO BLOG 😱✨️💯🗣🗣‼️‼️

This is where I post any art that I believe is to my standards as part of an official portfolio for future commissions, this will be updated slowly (given I'm still improving), but it will be updated rest assured

The Giorno blog will always contain the speed-draws/speed-paints of the art I create, though

Pillar Men - number-1-kars-fan

This is my PILLAR MEN ACCOUNT 🎉

I literally post ONLY Piller Men content on here, I love them a lot and could talk about them 24/7 365. They're so cherished by me they have their whole separate blog (sorry Jotaro)

"But Joni, what content can I expect on here if all your stuff is on there?"

I hear you, and let me tell you - whilst there isn't much else that one could put here, I have SOMETHING

This is going to be my information centre where I put super duper important updates - and potentially my reblog account, where I reblog content from my fyp that I like OR from my alts (if they're from my alts I'll literally say "reblogged from [alt name], check it out!"

Anyway, aside from that, I can't think of anything else. Don't feel shy, feel free to comment, like, interact - I can not WAIT to start posting content.

You can find me on TikTok under the same name and on Instagram as "kars-stan-30000" as opposed to 3000

Anyway, here are some photos for more about me stuff: