I deeply fear my chronic dyssomnia is finally catching up with me because why do Great and Satang suddenly make sense as a pairing and why am I low-key disappointed we got some final WinnySatang crumbs? 🤨
Also welcome back non-human voices in Thai BL; I’ve missed you deeply ever since left and right slipper. 🤧
[that's Lovro's favourite band in canon and a lot of their songs have been part of the soundtrack, plus they also made the official song for the season🥺]
the clip's very much "all in his head" type of deal but the image of sara, who was cheated on by jakov, coming back to shake her head at lovro cheating on his gf with a guy is so funny to me.
edit: notice the column in the second gif in Croatia’s tricolor; but instead of the traditional coat of arms there’s the anarchist symbol “stamped” unto it. 🔎
"And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
the possibility of sram naming lovro after vladimir nazor….lovro nazor…..that’d be soooo crazy what. and how it could potentially be tied to the overall water theme (the lyrics to the song that played during their first kiss + lovro was born on the feast day of john of god, the patron saint for mentally ill.)
Sram is really the only remake I've watched where the songs are 10/10 and adds to the story !!
This is a lesbian and queer choir singing this btw gagged
Like it fits the situation so well
"Oh honey
Why don't you love me, my love?
I'm dead without you!
Don't leave with your friend!
Please!!! "
I mean that's what literally happened my god
And this?!
Lovro wanting to sleep instead of wanting to have sex with ema?? 😂
plus I loved how lovro was crying with this song playing over it, yeah it adds to the anxiety and voices in your head because of the choir but it reminds me of my latin culture. Like yeah I'm having a breakdown but there's something funny about it idk 😂
edit: WTF this is completely random but the artist is called Lollobrigida?? Like Francesca Lollobrigida, legendary Italian speed skater and as of today Olympic gold medalist?! 🫨🥇⛸️
Sometimes I have this sense8-kind-of-image stuck in my head. That all those Isaks out there are... somehow connected. And sometimes, only sometimes, they feel each other. When one of them gets hurt, really hurt. Or when one of them falls in love with their soulmate and the universe tilts just a little to the left.
Right now, at this exact moment, I'm sure there's a Norwegian guy, probably hunched over his laptop, coffee gone cold, writing a paper for his PhD, somewhere in Oslo, in a bright apartment that he's been living in with his husband for almost 10 (!) years. His shoulders hurt. And for no clear reason at all, there's this dull ache in his chest. Not sharp, just enough to notice. He pauses and presses a hand over his heart.
Somewhere further south, an Italian Isak is laughing. He's sprawled on a couch with his friends, his fiancé's legs thrown over his lap. There's warmth and noise and life all around him, and still, for half a second, his smile falters. Like he felt something pass through him. He squeezes his partner's hand a little tighter without knowing why.
A few miles away, half-Italian-half-German Isak is on vacation. Same place every time. Italy: a small, slightly run-down apartment that smells like salt and old wood. The paint is peeling but the balcony opens up to the sea. His boyfriend, film student, currently on semester break, is still asleep, hair a mess, mouth slightly open. Italian-German Isak crawls back into bed, presses his face into that familiar shoulder. And his chest tightens, just a bit, like a wave breaking somewhere far away.
In Spain, a young woman is sitting very still. Her girlfriend, hair blue, eyes shiny, is sketching her, pencil soft against paper. She shivers suddenly. Her girlfriend looks up. "Cold?" She shakes her head. "No. I'm not, really..."
In France, an Isak who should be nothing but happy stares at intertwined fingers. A ring. Eliott's ring. Still new. Still unreal. He proposed to Eliott just some days ago. He traces the metal with his thumb, smiling, and then there's this quiet bam in his heart, a bruise where joy should live. He blinks, breathes, leans his head against Eliott's shoulder. Love anchors him, but the feeling lingers, somehow.
In Belgium, an Isak is trying to study for his master's. Emphasis on trying. His fiancé is in the kitchen, making toast far too loudly and listening to pink floyd even louder. The apartment is small, warm, alive, and the walls are fully plastered with Sander's art. And suddenly, Belgium Isak has to stop reading, has to breathe through it, because his heart hurts in a way that doesn't make sense.
And in the Netherlands, a Dutch Isak lifts his camera. There’s a young man in front of him: soft smile, sleeves too long, wearing clothes that Dutch Isak designed himself. Just a model, officially. Just work. He adjusts the focus... And shivers.
And then... Then there's a young, scared, so so scared boy in Croatia. Heart racing, hands shaking, convinced that this pain is permanent. That this fear will swallow him whole.
And god, I wish, that just like in sense8, all those Isaks could reach out, through oceans and borders and years. That they could sit beside him, press warmth into his freezing hands, look him in the eye and say: you're not alone. This hurts, but it won't forever. We are proof. You will survive this. You will be loved. You will be okay, even if right now, it doesn’t feel like it.
