cilla buchanan. twenty seven. intro.
lydia yao-ohtani. forty. intro.
penned by pisces, twenty-nine, pst.

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@spiltwines
cilla buchanan. twenty seven. intro.
lydia yao-ohtani. forty. intro.
penned by pisces, twenty-nine, pst.

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♡ barbara palvin for venice film festival
GEMMA CHAN Preparing for the ELLE Style Awards 2023
@upgradcd
for the last six months, the only tangible proof that lydia has to prove that she’s alive, in whatever sense of the word, is the grueling migraine that’s plagued her every single morning. for the first few weeks, it accompanied the wretched hollowness that carved itself deep in her chest, but as days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, she’s grown numb, apathetic, bled dry of all emotions. she knows that plenty more tears and heartache could be discovered deep within the well, could be easily excavated with a few therapy sessions she’s purposely missed. but she doesn’t want to feel, because to experience joy, even the slightest sliver, in the same world ren is absent from feels like utter betrayal. how does life go on? for lydia, it goes on mechanically, coldly — it has to be empty, because if she dares to think about any of it, she’ll fall to pieces.
lukas’s absences had been understandable at first — in fact, she savored them, appreciated that he could give her the space to withdraw from it all without too many questions. as time trickled by and she became more familiar with her emptiness, that appreciation turned to embittered resentment. why couldn’t he face her? why couldn’t they find solace in one another? what had been so fundamentally fucked up about her that lukas had to run? why, why, why? tonight is no different, sat alone in her kitchen, deluge of rain slamming over the city while a glass of wine is clutched between her digits, barely touched. she’s only briefly alarmed when she hears heavy footsteps amble down the hallway, and the sight of him is sheer agony: bruised and littered with dried blood, eyes so sunken she wonders if he’s sleep in days. a week, wasn’t it? that’s how long it’s been since she’s last seen him. a whole week, and — “this is how you come back to me?” every word is clipped, a gathering storm as she rises to her feet. “you disappear on me again, and this,” so broken it could break her heart, though she’s incapable of saying it, “this is how you come back to our home?” in a flash, the wine glasses is thrown to the marble floor, merlot pooling along the tile. “where the fuck have you been, lukas?”
Every Serena Van Der Woodsen Outfit ↳ Pilot (1.01)

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* ◟ : @spiltwines
The rain has been making her drowsy. Or is it the routine? But this is what she needed — the constant source of mundane natures, no sensation of losing grip. Selena had, in some way, found a new footing on existence. Something that stemmed from wanting to feel life flow through her. Warmth and cold alike. If there was nothing to strive for, there was nothing to live for. Therefore, she spends moments in between moments thinking of motivations to shake her from whatever cage she had crawled back into. Cilla was one of them — a reason for wanting to see the water falling down from the sky despite the heaviness in the air. Humid, even this far into winter. It was an odd purgatory in the seasons. A blink, she turns back to the other woman, mouth still shaped into an inviting smile. Encouraging by default, an involuntary promise that this clinic was a good environment — even during closing hours. “It’s beautiful, really [ … ] it makes me feel comforted. Like I’m in my grandmama's arms again.” A hum of delight, fingers slow and gentle as they trail along the paper wrapping that falls from the new painting Cilla had brought with her. “You should be starting a gallery. This is what the city needs to see. Passion. Art.”
“does it?” the glistening blues that fixate on selena’s warm countenance suddenly brighten tenfold, shining under fluorescent lighting as they try to assess the other’s sincerity — does she mean it, or is she, like every other person seems to, simply humoring the whims of the girl trapped in an ivory tower? cilla’s a wounded optimist by nature, but experience blemishes that outlook somewhat; people love to tell her yes, succumb to her indulgences, but she puts on a great show - albeit hollow, at least as far as cilla’s concerned. maybe she should be at a party, rubbing shoulders with all the wrong sort of people, and perhaps she’ll wander into some dubious warehouse later on, amusing herself in the shadows and intertwining her body with some nameless figure. but selena grounds her, supports her to an almost improbable degree. her cheeks flush nonetheless under such kindness, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “nobody would take my gallery seriously.” nobody takes her seriously, reads the subtitles, but she’s smiling, quietly accepts this fact. “i can only ever offer my pieces anonymously. people don’t associate me with art.” passion, surely, but salacious, breathless, the impractical sort of way; and if it’s not that, then surely the wrongdoings of every buchanan before her would spring to mind. “you really like it, though? i didn’t know if it was too much for your clinic.” too many colors thrust upon a canvas, perhaps not what anyone wants to gawk at in a waiting room. “you’re always welcome to visit my studio and see if anything feels more fitting. i just wanted you to know that i made this for you.”
Sedmikrásky / Daisies 1966, dir. Věra Chytilová
* ◟ : 〔 gemma chan , cis woman + she/her 〕 lydia yao-ohtani , some say you’re a forty year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both strategic and calculated, one can’t help but think of femme fatale by the velvet underground when you walk by. are you still a clinical researcher at annukai pharmaceuticals, even with your reputation as the fortress? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and the sharp scuff of heels against marble, intimacy by way of retribution, and a steely gaze blinking back tears, although we can’t help but think of annalise keating (how to get away with murder), shiv roy (succession), and joan holloway (mad men) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.
full name : lydia rose yao-ohtani.
gender & pronouns : cis woman, she/her.
age : forty
date of birth : december 30th.
zodiac : capricorn sun, cancer moon, gemini rising, capricorn venus.
tarot : the high priestess, queen of swords.
occupation : clinical researcher.
sexuality : bisexual.
immediate family : qing yao ( father ), elaine mei yao ( mother ).
relationship status : lukas ohtani, husband.
traits : sardonic, pragmatic, calculated, resourceful, intuitive, curious, wry, sagacious, generous.
assumed associates : dead hand

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* ◟ : 〔 barbara palvin , cis woman + she/her 〕 cilla buchanan , some say you’re a twenty - seven year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both captivating and fickle, one can’t help but think of john wayne by cigarettes after sex when you walk by. are you still a principal ballerina at the new york city ballet company, even with your reputation as the intangible concept? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and airy laughter ringing above the room, a distant smile that never quite meets longing eyes, a lifetime of opulence without a shred of warmth, although we can’t help but think of daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), sally bowles (cabaret), and lady brett ashley (the sun also rises) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.
full name : priscilla 'cilla' lee buchanan.
gender & pronouns : cis woman, she/her.
age : twenty - seven.
date of birth : january 25th.
zodiac : aquarius sun, libra moon, sagittarius rising, leo venus.
tarot : the empress, ace of wands.
occupation : principal ballerina, aspiring artist, heiress.
sexuality : bisexual.
immediate family : richard buchanan ( father, deceased ), eleanor buchanan ( mother ), adam buchanan ( brother ).
traits : compassionate, sensual, salacious, reckless, captivating, hedonistic, epicurean, playful, aloof, discreet, engaging, tempestuous, intangible.
assumed associates : burning gods ( via family & the new york city ballet. )
BARBARA PALVIN in VICTORIA’S SECRET HOLIDAY 2019
barbara palvin
BARBARA PALVIN ph. at the 80th Venice International Film Festival
BARBARA PALVIN.
VIA HER INSTAGRAM HANDLE. | 02TH OCTOBER 2023.

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Barbara Palvin ph. by Miles Aldridge for Vogue Italia, january 2012
Gemma Chan at the Paris Fashion Week (March 06, 2023)