What Do You Think Father Voldemort Said To Him? And Was There A Conversation? Voldemort Even Talked To

I love how the Marauders fandom is like everybody is perfect the way they are, they can be black, brown, white, fat, skinny, tall, short, everyone is pretty. Except Snape, no no no, he cannot be pretty, he has greasy hair, you cannot be pretty with greasy hair

etienne-louis bouleé’s cenotaph for isaac newton

what is "FD"?

FD is “Forever Dawn."  It was the original sequel to Twilight (Before New Moon and Eclipse were written) and was what Breaking Dawn is based on.   From Stephenie Meyer’s website:

The basic story is the same. Bella and Edward get married and go to Isle Esme for their honeymoon. Bella gets pregnant with Renesmee. The birth just about kills Bella, but Edward makes her a vampire in time. Jacob imprints on Renesmee. Alice has a vision of the Volturi coming to destroy the Cullens with the "immortal child” as their excuse. Alice bails. Bella’s shielding abilities turn the tide in the Cullen’s favor, along with Alice bringing home another half-vampire to prove that Nessie isn’t a danger.

The things that are different:

Jacob and Bella are not nearly so close. None of the events of New Moon or Eclipse exist; Edward never leaves, so Bella and Jacob never bond. Jacob’s feelings for Bella remain at crush level.

Due in part to Jacob being a smaller character, the werewolf pack is only sketchily developed. It exists as a whole, but there isn’t much information about the individuals. Most of the wolves do not have names.

The entire story is written in Bella’s perspective. Because of this, there is a lot more emphasis on the pregnancy phase.

Jacob isn’t there at the delivery, naturally, so he imprints on Renesmee a few weeks later when Bella is visiting Charlie.

With no New Moon or Eclipse, Victoria and Laurent are both still alive. Laurent stays happily with Irina and sides with the Cullens in the confrontation with the Volturi. It is Victoria rather than Irina who informs on the Cullens to the Volturi. She creates a new friend, Riley, to make the actual accusation. She doesn’t want Aro to know about her agenda—or the fact that the baby is only half-vampire, of which she is aware.

The wolves kill Victoria. She is the only casualty at the final confrontation.

The last chapter ends the same way, but there is an epilogue. It involves Max (J. Jenk’s assistant). Bella’s initial interaction with him is a little bit longer and, feeling she owes him a favor, she gives him her number and tells him she will help him out in return if he ever needs a favor of his own. Max gets himself into some trouble, and Bella gets to play Superman.

a few great films that are free on the internet archive

in decent quality too!

here is the archive collection of these films so you can favorite on there/save if desired.

links below

black girl (1966) dir. ousmane sembene

the battle of algiers (1966) dir. gillo pontecorvo

paris, texas (1984) dir. wim wenders

desert hearts (1985) dir. donna deitch

harold and maude (1973) dir. hal ashby

los olvidados (1952) dir. luis bunuel

walkabout (1971) dir. nicolas roag

rope (1948) dir alfred hitchcock

freaks (1932) dir. tod browning

frankenstein (1931) dir. james whale

sunset boulevard (1950) dir billy wilder

fantastic planet (1973) dir. rené laloux

jeanne dielman (1975) dir. chantal akerman

the color of pomegranates (1969) dir. sergei parajanov

all about eve (1950) dir. joseph l. mankiewicz

gilda (1946) dir. charles vidor

the night of the hunter (1950) dir. charles laughton

the invisible man (1931) dir. james whale

COLLECTION of georges méliès shorts

rebecca (1940) dir. alfred hitchcock

brief encounter (1946) dir. david lean

to be or not to be (1942) dir. ernst lubitsch

a place in the sun (1951) dir george stevens

eyes without a face (1960) dir. georges franju

double indeminity (1944) dir. billy wilder

wild strawberries (1957) dir. ingmar bergman

shame (1968) dir. ingmar bergman

through a glass darkly (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

persona (1961) dir. ingmar bergman

winter light (1963) dir. ingmar bergman

the ascent (1977) dir. larisa shepitko

the devil, probably (1977) dir. robert bresson

cleo from 5 to 7 (1962) dir. agnes varda

alien (1979) dir. ridley scott + its sequels

after hours (1985) dir. martin scorsese

halloween (1978) dir. john carpenter

the watermelon woman (1996) dir. cheryl dune

EDIT: part two here + the letterboxd list

Professor Remus Lupin on platform 9 ¾ before he boards the train to Hogwarts.

Lupin is one of my absolute favorite HP characters, so it was about time I drew him!<3

Introducing myself

Art account: @lunap023 I am passionate about photography, I don't consider myself a good photographer, I'm just passionate about it and I enjoy taking photos

• I’m from Spain and half Ecuatorian 🇪🇨 My mother tongue isn’t english so probably I made a lot of mistakes, I’m learning here. Probably I will post in Spanish too.

• I’m studying an art degree but I’m a miss disaster when it comes to drawing, I draw once a month but here you will probably see some of my drawings, analysis about any topic that interests me or random things.

•I absolutely LOVE eneagram, mbti and horoscope (I prefer the enneagram more ) and I usually do analysis or have headcanons related to this.

•I like anime and manga more manga than anime

Fandoms : Harry Potter, I’m not into Marauders fandom but I ship and read wolfstar , sometimes I write wolfstar too, Persona 5, Death Note and adventure time.

Characters I like

Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Yusuke Kitagawa, Akira Amamiya and Goro Akechi.

I don’t really see Severus Snape as morally grey. I think a lot of people call him that because he can be mean and unpleasant, and they don’t like him, so they assume that must mean his morality is questionable too. But to me, he’s not morally grey—he’s just a polarizing character. People either really connect with him or really can’t stand him, and that makes it feel like he’s complicated in a moral sense, when he’s actually pretty straightforward.

It’s totally fair not to like him. He’s can be cruel, he’s mean and unfair to the students, he holds grudges, and he’s generally just not a nice person. But I don’t think that automatically makes someone morally ambiguous. Those are personality flaws and trauma responses, not moral decisions. When you look at what he actually does—he spends years risking his life as a double agent, protecting Harry, helping Dumbledore’s plan succeed, and ultimately dies for it—it’s really clear what side he’s on.

And yeah, he was a Death Eater at one point. That was absolutely a moral failing. But it was a relatively short part of his life, and he changed. He made a conscious decision to switch sides, and everything we see afterward is him trying to make up for the harm he helped cause. Growth doesn’t make someone morally grey—it shows that they made bad choices, learned from them, and did something about it.

I get why people find him confusing. He’s written as a red herring through most of the series; we’re supposed to doubt him. But that doesn’t mean his morality is actually unclear. Once you see the whole picture, it’s pretty obvious where he stood.

I’m not a big fan of Dali's paintings, but the way this man writes and his sketches are much better than his paintings for far. I absolutely love it. I have his tarot and it is a mix between a compilation of his sketches with collages. As a tarot reader, I love doing tarot readings with his cards, inspire me a lot.

Salvador Dalí Snake charmer 1966

snape chalk pastel

My problem with Lily and James being seen as a super couple has nothing to do with Severus Snape but rather with the fact that when we look at the relationship between James and Lily through a feminist lens, it’s hard not to notice some pretty glaring issues that go beyond just whether or not they’re an “OTP” couple. Sure, on the surface it might seem like a story of two people finding love amid all the chaos, but scratch beneath the surface and you see a whole lot more about toxic masculinity, objectification, and the erasure of a woman’s agency. James is celebrated as this charming, rebellious “bad boy” with a roguish smile, while Lily gets stuck playing the role of the sacrificial, moral compass woman—someone who exists largely to balance out and even redeem the male narrative. And honestly, that’s a problem.

James is shown as this complex, active character who’s constantly surrounded by friends, enemies, and drama. His life is dynamic and full of choices—even if those choices sometimes involve manipulation and deceit. He’s the kind of guy who can easily slip out of confinement with his Invisibility Cloak, leaving Lily behind in a narrative that, over time, turns her into a background figure. This dynamic isn’t accidental; it’s reflective of how our culture often values male agency over female independence. Lily, on the other hand, is repeatedly reduced to her relationships with the men around her. Instead of being a person with her own dreams, opinions, and friendships, she becomes a symbol—a kind of emotional barometer for how “good” or “bad” a man is. Her character is used to validate the actions of others, which means her individuality gets smothered under the weight of a trope that’s all too common in literature: the idea that a woman’s worth is measured by her ability to tame or save a troubled man.

This isn’t just about a lack of depth in Lily’s character; it’s also about how her portrayal reinforces harmful gender norms. Lily is depicted as this kind of sacrificial mother figure—a person whose primary virtue is her selflessness, her willingness to suffer and sacrifice for the sake of others. While selflessness is often celebrated in women, it’s a double-edged sword when that selflessness is the only thing we see. Instead of having her own narrative, her role is defined by how much she gives up, not by what she contributes or the inner life she leads. And it’s not just a narrative oversight—it’s a reflection of a broader cultural pattern where women are expected to be nurturing, supportive, and ultimately secondary to the male characters who drive the action.

What’s even more frustrating is how Lily’s isolation is used to further the narrative of James’s redemption. Over time, we see Lily’s network of friends and her connections outside of James gradually disappear. It’s almost as if, once she falls in love, her entire world is meant to shrink around that relationship. And here’s where the feminist critique really kicks in: this isn’t a realistic depiction of a balanced, healthy relationship—it’s a story that subtly suggests that a woman’s fulfillment comes from being dependent on one man and his circle, rather than cultivating her own identity. Meanwhile, James continues to be portrayed as this larger-than-life figure who’s got a whole world beyond his romantic entanglement, a world filled with vibrant interactions, rivalries, and a legacy that extends beyond his relationship with Lily.

Another point worth mentioning is the way in which the narrative seems to excuse James’s less-than-stellar behavior. His manipulation, his lying, and his willingness to trick Lily into situations that serve his own interests are brushed off as quirks of a “bad boy” persona—a kind of charm that, in the end, makes him redeemable because Lily’s love is supposed to “tame” him. This kind of storytelling not only normalizes toxic masculinity but also puts an unfair burden on Lily. It’s like saying, “Look how amazing you are, you’re the only one who can fix him!” That’s a dangerous message because it implies that women are responsible for managing or even reforming male behavior, rather than holding men accountable for their own actions.

The imbalance in their character development is glaringly obvious when you compare how much more we learn about James versus how little we know about Lily. James is given room to be flawed, to grow, and to be complicated. His friendships, his rivalries, and even his mistakes are all part of what makes him a rounded character. Lily, however, is often just a name, a face in the background who exists mainly to serve as a counterpoint to James’s narrative. Her inner life, her ambitions, and her struggles are rarely explored in any meaningful way, leaving her as a one-dimensional character whose only real purpose is to highlight the moral journey of the man she loves.

It’s also important to recognize how this kind of narrative plays into broader cultural ideas about gender. When literature consistently portrays women as the quiet, isolated figures who are only valuable in relation to the men around them, it sends a message about what is expected of real-life women. It suggests that a woman’s worth is determined by how much she sacrifices or how well she can support a man, rather than by her own achievements or personality. This isn’t just a harmless trope—it contributes to a societal mindset that limits women’s potential and reinforces gender inequality. The way Lily is written reflects a kind of “tamed” femininity that’s supposed to be passive, supportive, and ultimately secondary to the active, adventurous masculinity that James represents.

At the heart of the issue is the lack of balance in their relationship as depicted in the texts. The idea that Lily “fell for” a man who was clearly not a paragon of virtue is problematic, but what’s even more problematic is how her role in the relationship is so narrowly defined. Rather than being seen as an independent character who makes choices and has her own voice, she is constantly portrayed as someone whose existence is meant to validate the male experience. Even when the texts mention that Lily had her own issues—like hating James at times or suffering because of the way their relationship unfolded—it’s always in a way that underlines her weakness compared to James’s dynamic, active presence.

Looking at the broader picture, it’s clear that this isn’t just about one fictional couple—it’s a reflection of how gender dynamics have long been skewed in literature. Male characters are given the freedom to be complex, flawed, and full of life, while female characters are often stuck in roles that don’t allow them to be fully realized. This isn’t to say that every story with a sacrificial female character is inherently bad, but it does mean that when a character like Lily is reduced to a mere symbol—a moral compass or a measure of male worth—it’s time to ask why and what that says about the society that produced that narrative.

So, what’s the way forward? For one, we need to start reimagining these relationships in a way that allows both partners to be fully fleshed out. Lily deserves to be more than just a side character or a moral benchmark; she should have her own narrative, her own dreams, and her own agency. And as much as it might be appealing to think of James as this redeemable rebel, it’s equally important to hold him accountable for the ways in which his behavior perpetuates harmful stereotypes about masculinity. A healthier narrative would be one in which both characters grow together, where mutual respect and equal agency are at the core of their relationship.

In the end, the story of James and Lily, as it stands, is a reminder of how deeply ingrained gender norms can shape the stories we tell. It’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of allowing toxic masculinity to go unchecked and of confining women to roles that don’t do justice to their full humanity. For anyone who’s ever felt frustrated by these imbalances, there’s hope in the idea of re-writing these narratives—of pushing for stories where both men and women are seen as complete, complex individuals. And really, that’s what literature should strive for: a reflection of the messy, beautiful, and often complicated reality of human relationships, where no one is just there to serve as a prop in someone else’s story.

Ultimately, if we can start imagining a world where characters like Lily aren’t just defined by their relationships to men, where their voices and stories are given as much weight as those of their male counterparts, then we can begin to chip away at the outdated tropes that have held us back for so long. It’s about time we celebrated the full spectrum of human experience—and that means giving women like Lily the space to shine on their own terms, without being constantly overshadowed by a “bad boy” narrative that has little to say about their true selves.