i am not an artist but i had nothing to do so i drew this guy .. decided to post this bc maybe someone here likes christoph waltz too??! (i also dont want my blog to die)
ALSO if anyone has ‘unter verdacht’ or ‘das finale’ downloaded please msg me bc i cant find them online 🙏 ily guys
Narrated by Alan Cowan (fem reader. Use of she/her)
(Note: I'm trying something new here. Entirely self-indulgent and purely fuelled by angst. In this story, Alan is writing about his new intern "𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳". Who is a girl of bottomless numbness. Mentions of bad parenting and bad coping mechanisms)
꧁꧂
I would like to know what went wrong in her life. What made her into the marble statue that walks into my office each morning.
I can tell she was once passionate - happy. But she just has this air of sadness about her; this endless, compulsory melancholy that can't be explained.
Whenever asked about her feelings, she just smiles the same smile that never reaches her eyes and says, "𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘊𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘯. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵." It doesn't matter if she looks put together or has puffy eyes and mascara crusted under her eyes.
I've often asked her why she is so sad, and she's often asked if there's anything she should be happy about. Or she quotes 𝘋𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪, "𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴." Or say anything that can divert my attention.
That's another thing about her, you know. She doesn't want anyone to know anything about her. I doubt she even knows herself. She seems quite lost. Like she's only moving with the passage of time, on a predetermined path that she's had no hand in paving, and she hides herself because it's 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.
She smiles her fake smiles, says her "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦" and "𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘠𝘰𝘶" 's and "𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘪𝘳" 's with that agitating high-pitched voice because it's 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 . Because it doesn't piss people off.
Like playing dead in the face of a grizzly bear to avoid being mauled.
But I can tell she's sad, I can tell from the way she sits in the corner with her knees to her chest, reading the same passage of 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘑𝘢𝘳 over and over with tears in her eyes. Tears that never escape.
I can tell it scares her when I raise my voice on the phone. Or when I am firm with my assertion. I can tell from the way her hand clutches my sleeve and she looks up at me like a lamb awaiting slaughter. Terrified.
I think it has something to do with her parents. They aren't the best, you see. She's often been dismissed as a child; told she'd feel less depressed if she paid attention to important stuff like her future. That, and the constant condemnation of her interests slowly turned her into stone.
At the end of the day, the wounds on her character and self esteem aren't all self-inflicted. She is just a product of her messy upbringing. And she will continue to smile her fake smiles, fight her tears, and look disinterested when her favorite song plays on the radio.
I just hope that she can one day put away her expressionless mask. Despite all her disagreements, she is kind. An angel. Always has been.
My native language is Portuguese but I also speak English and a little bit of German
Scorpio – INFJ
Random facts: my favorite color is red and I have two black cats
My main interests are: Christoph Waltz, Jeremy Irons, Red Dead Redemption, Movies in general (but I def have a thing for Inglorious Basterds and Django Unchained), Hannibal, Better Call Saul and some random old men haha
My favorite musicians are: Leonard Cohen, Agnes Obel, Hozier, Kate Bush, Beach House, Mitski, Mother Mother, Jeff Buckley and too many others to list haha
I spent most of my time listening to music and I’m kind of addicted to creating playlists for everything, so go check them out little bug!
My spotify
My pinterest
Come say hi if you feel like it, I love making new friends! ❤️