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bbunivxrse · 4 months

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 2:34AM ‒ megumi fushiguro

pairing ‒ 21+megumi x f!reader contents ‒ College AU, alcohol consumption, gets a bit suggestive at one part but no smut, heartbroken megumi gets wasted asfff, a bit angsty word count ‒ 2.3k a/n ‒ a tad bit angsty fgjioejio wrote this at like 4am if you see mistakes no tf u didnt ??? - also making my posts more nice n pretty n aesthetic cuz i felt like it :3

Megumi Fushiguro sat alone on the couch at a party. he can’t recall why he was there or how many shots he had but everything was starting to get cloudy. girl after girl walking up to him, offering him drinks. he hates alcohol. he hates the taste, he hates the smell, he hates the feeling of it in his mouth and going down his throat, he hates being drunk and he hates being hungover, yet he continues accepting all their offers. the women were hot but none of them were you. maybe he thought if he drank enough he could forget the past, forget the guilt and move on from everything like he should’ve a long time ago. he thought if he got drunk enough the regretful thoughts of the past would go away and the thoughts of you along with it. then he could go on with his life. but the more he drank the more present it became and the more his reality began to shatter at the thought.

girl after girl came up to him, sat near him, sat beside him, sat on him, yet it was only you he could think about. he gladly took their drinks but could barely have a one sided conversation with them for a few minutes before shooing them away.

as the party went on it felt like the music got louder and the lights brighter. his head pounded and he felt nauseous. ‘what am i doing here.’ megumi sinks into the couch, trying to keep himself calm by taking deep breaths and grounding himself in reality. ‘i wanna go home.’ he takes out his phone and stares at his lock screen, it was pitch black with only the white text of the time and date showing. he remembers when it used to be a picture of you with the text showing how far away you were from him. a picture you had taken of yourself in the mirror and sent to him, moments later he had it saved and set it to his wallpaper. he remembers your reaction when you saw it, a bright smile on your face while he was a bit embarrassed to be caught doing something he considered a bit ‘obsessive.’

megumi is ripped from his thoughts as someone taps on his shoulder. “wanna have a drink with me..?” he looks up to a see a woman standing right in front of him, a bottle of wine in her hand. megumi wanted to say no, and he was about to, until he took a closer look. ‘she looks just like her’. no, she wasnt exactly the same, but she was similar. from the shape of her body to the way she did her makeup, the way she styled her hair, the jewelry she wore and the shy expression on her face. even the damn dress she wore was similar to the short, black, skin tight dress he had bought you. she was so similar, so familiar, but it still wasn’t you. “sure.”

megumi patted his lap for her to sit down. she handed him the entire bottle and the two of them shared until the bottle was finished. they chatted as they took swigs from the bottle of wine, and as the conversation went on megumi continued to realize that as similar as she seemed, she wasn’t you. it started to throw him off. she didn’t talk like you, she didn’t have the same favourite colour or have the same aspirations. she was still a stranger. she felt like you, looked like you, dressed like you, she almost was you. almost. “let’s go somewhere private.”

megumi pulls her off his lap and leads this mysterious women to a bedroom. this would be the first time he’s fucked another woman since getting with you, even though it’s been months since you left him. he hasn’t even looked at another woman until tonight. he closes the door to the bedroom, the mystery woman pulling him closer and putting her lips on his. ‘she doesn’t kiss like her.’ megumi is yet again reminded that as much as he wants this to be you and he’s willing to pretend it’s you, it’s not you. still, he allows her to unbotton his shirt as they make out and get into bed. she hiked up her dress for him, revealing her black laced panties. ‘her favourite set was red.’

megumi hovers over her, his eyes dead set on her panties making her a bit uncomfortable. ‘what am i doing?’ he questions himself, the headache starting to come back as the music that was previously bothering him can be heard from downstairs. “i need to go.”

“what?” megumi barely gives her a chance to speak before getting out of bed and heading out the door. she fixes herself up before following after him, but by the time she’s back to the party, he’s already gone.

megumi stumbles down the sidewalk, aimlessly walking into the night. the streetlights barely illuminate the sidewalk as he tried to keep himself upright. he finds himself at a dimly lit park, throwing himself onto a park bench. he groans as he takes out his phone, the bright light blinding him and making his skull splitting headache worse. the words on the screen are barely legible as he spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to find his contacts. he thinks about calling yuuji, but he knows he’s usually asleep by this time and keeps his phone on do not disturb at night. he scrolls to kugisaki and calls her instead. the phone rings for a bit, before he hears her groggy voice on the line. “hello..?”

“can you pick me up?” megumi barely pieces his sentence together “oh my god megumi, it’s 3AM! you shouldve left earlier. i’m going to bed, i have a class in the morning.”

“please, kugisaki. i can’t drive…” megumis words slur a bit “holy shit, you actually drank?? oh my god this isn’t what i meant when i told you to have some fun.”

“just pick me up. ill make it up to you.” megumi pleads over the phone, a desperate tone coming from his voice that she wasn't used to hearing even after knowing him for so many years

“yeah, whatever. where are you? actually, don’t fucking bother, you sound too wasted to figure that out. just send me your location.” megumi can hear his friend's bed sheets ruffling as she gets out of bed, which begins to fill him with a bit of guilt, even if she was the one who suggested he go to the party in the first place. eventually he figures out how to send kugisaki his location, patiently waiting for it to go through. “okay, i got it. ill be there soon, idiot.” she hangs up before he can say anything back.

megumi sits back on the hard bench, rethinking his night at the party. he wasn’t even hung over yet but he already regretted all of it. he had hoped that the music and the people and the alcohol would distract him, take his thoughts away from the past and finally live in the present but they only made him miss you more. if you were still with him he’d be in your room, laying in your bed napping whilst you studied for your next exam. the music wouldn’t be blasting in his ears and causing him a headache and instead would be soft lofi playing quietly from your speaker, which helped you study and helped him sleep. he wouldn’t have to try and imagine the girl he was talking to was you, it would’ve been you.

without thinking, megumi takes out his phone, opening up a locked folder. his face id unlocks the folder that held pictures and videos of you. he’s gone through everything multiple times and he wishes he could still take more and add them to his collection. he wishes you would still take pictures of your outfits and send them to him. he wishes his wallpaper was still his favourite picture of you.

tears begin to well in his eyes as he turns off his phone and stuffs it in his pocket, he can’t bring himself to look through that folder again. not in his current state. you’re already gone, he knows that, he’s been told that, you told him that. he knows he needs to move on and continue his life without you but you’ve been the only thing on his mind for months and the alcohol in his system certainly wasn’t helping.

megumi wipes his tears as he hears the car in front of him beep. pushing himself off the bench, he limps his way over to his friend’s car and gets in the back seat.

“jesus, i thought you didn’t like drinking.” usually his friend would laugh at him for things like this but this time her tone and the look on her face was more serious. “whatever.”

the car ride was abnormally silent and the odd tension in the air was prevalent. kugisaki dropped him off in front of the dorms, his roommate already waiting for him outside. “thanks.” is all megumi can say to his friend as he walks away from her car.

“you alright, megumi? did something happen while you were there?” yuuji takes a good look at his best friend. he knows it’s been rough since the break up, he’s seen all of it. he’s done what he can to help keep his mind off it, to help his friend move past it but clearly it’s all still there. he feels guilty for sending megumi to this party now. kugisaki suggested it but he was the one who really convinced him it’d be a good idea, but he should’ve thought it through a bit more. yuuji can see the puffiness of his eyes and it breaks his heart to see his normally stoic friend in such a state. he’s really tried everything to help but at this point he can’t do much anymore. “it’s okay man, forget about it.” he throws an arm around his friend to keep him stable, taking him back to their shared dorm. yuuji spends the night trying to distract his friend, getting him to sober up and eventually fall asleep.

sunlight spilling from the blinds shines on megumis face, waking him up. the moment he opens his eyes he’s met with painful pounding in his head. still, he manages to sit up, his headache getting worst every moment hes conscious. he makes his way to the living room, where his friend is already sitting on the couch. “hey.” he barely mumbles out before plopping himself on the other side of the couch. “you hungry?” his roommate waved back at him.

“no.” megumi gets himself comfortable on the couch, trying to distract from the overwhelming throbbing he’s feeling. suddenly his phone buzzes on the coffee table, where he apparently left it last night. picking it up, he had a slightly abnormal amount of notifications from kugisaki, both texts and calls.

[ 4 missed calls from kugisaki ]

[ kugisaki: did you text y/n? ]

[ kugisaki: megumi answer my call oml ]

his heart drops as he opens his phone and goes to messages, and there he sees it. three messages he had sent last night, all of which he doesn’t even recall. “sorry…” yuuji looks over at his roommate, seeing the colour from his face leave as he looks at the messages he had sent. “i tried to stop you but you were gonna beat the shit outta me when i took your phone...”

“it’s fine.. sorry.” megumi didn’t even want to read the messages he sent. he can see them, he can see that they went through, he can see that you haven’t read them, and he doesn’t want to read them either. he decides to turn off his phone and put it down, judging by kugisaki’s messages, you had already seen the messages and told her about them, just never actually opened them. ‘fuck.’

“hey, why don’t we just go out somewhere? To help you forget about it. let’s go watch a movie!” normally megumi isn’t the most excited about leaving his home and heading out. he prefers staying in his room, lounging on the couch or getting a good workout in at the gym, but today he feels more than ever that he needs to spend some time doing something else, distract himself from his sad, dull life. go out and have some actual fun, especially with his best friend. “sure,”

“I told you it’d be a good movie!” yuuji pokes at his friend’s arm.

“It was about an earthworm.” megumi playfully rolls his eyes as the two of them walk out of the theater. “It was more than that! Did you even watch the movie!?” the two of them continue to argue about the quality of the movie they had just seen on their way to the parking lot. megumi takes his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications and his heart drops for a second time that day. a name that hasn’t appeared on his lock screen in months, the name he’d been waiting to see there for so long. it was the only one in his contacts to have any sort of emoji or decoration to it, and he never changed it despite everything.

[ you: i mess you sofucjng much ]

[ you: pls so im sorry for everything ]

[ you: pleese baby pls talk to me ]

- Unread message -

[ y/n <3: come over, we’ll talk about it ]

megumi stares at the notification. it felt as if his heart skipped several beats. he opens the message and continues to stare. his fingers move on their own as he types a response and he doesn’t even think about it before hitting send.

[ you: on my way ]

omg can u guys tell im not good at coming up with endings :sob:

#megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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iwas-princess · 1 year

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I jus got the most perfect request

OK SO BASICALLY LETS SAY RIN AND YN ARE BEST FREINDS THEN RIN SEES THAT YN POSTED SUM LIKE “when his name starts with a r” AND HES LIKE CONFUSED AND THEN WHEN HE ASKS HER AB IT SHES LIKE “rin I want to be YOUR princess” DJDJDKDKSK

stop this is such a beautiful concept

suna rintaro • the one kept secret

“shit, i lost again.” rintaro mumbled to himself, his long fingers tapping his phone screen violently as he fought against some random opponent on his newly downloaded combat app— one he’ll soon forgot about within a month, you were sure.

the delicious smell of a cookie dough candle filled his living room, your insistence of the smelly area finally had him agreeing to let you lend him your favorite candle as a ‘welcoming home present’ after a month of your begging. the sounds of his thumbs thumping against the electronic device filled the naturally darkened room, his black out curtains doing more than enough to keep him satisfied.

suna was so content with the energy he created tonight, his mind occupied with the focus of a fresh game to entertain him and the area looking the exact aesthetic he wanted.

black and white tapestries covered his ivory walls, designs of random gothic art and skeletons crowded the small space, led strips lined the room and lit it up with a red glow— just as he always preferred.

his black shag rug let his bare left foot rest on it as his long leg dangled off of his couch, the other limb sitting on the arm of the sofa comfortably as he finally prepared to play against atsumu, a long awaited match that rintaro desperately tried to level up for as much as he could beforehand to ensure victory.

just as he was about to begin the fight, a notification from snapchat popped on his screen.

subconsciously, his eyes flickered to the top of his screen, catching your name on a story update.

he blinked, contemplating whether he should’ve waited to look and finish the round or leave to see whatever you posted.

deciding that you could’ve waited a few minutes, he clicked the ruby start button and watched in anticipation as atsumu’s character said their signature opening line.

halfway through his match, a loud ping on his phone irrupted the quiet atmosphere of the room causing his eyes to widen at the sudden loud noise and nearly loose to the cocky blonde.

the notification was an imessage from osamu that read ‘dude, have u seen y/n’s story?’

“fuck, the one time i don’t check it right away.” he grumbled to the empty air of his apartment, sighing at he paused the game reluctantly.

‘nah not yet, y?’ he replied.

he stared at the typing dots as the other twin responded, awaiting the answer to his question.

‘go check. like now.’

—

“y/n can i ask you something and i need you to be one hundred percent honest. i’m a judgment free-zone, as you are aware-“

you threw a green grape at him as he nearly started to ramble, a small giggle leaving your mouth as it hit his cheek.

“just spit it out, rin. you know i never keep anything from you.”

he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously before flicking the discarded grape away from his leg where it landed, causing it to fly your way.

“quit it.” you whined.

he smiled lazily and shrugged, his pale hands tucked into the pockets of his black joggers and fiddling with a vape in one and his phone in the other.

he didn’t want to dance around the question, he really didn’t, and rintaro certainly wasn’t the type to anyway— especially with you.

ever since you two met, you clicked and had been inseparable since. every crush, sexual encounter, breakup, argument, relationship or whatever, was admitted shamelessly with one another every weekend, a slumber party being thrown in celebration of secret spilling.

personal questions were often asked without regard for privacy, and each time you both would tell the other without hesitation, knowing that your answer would be held securely and no judgement would be given.

so this didn’t seem like any different, really. he asked you about crushes whenever he suspected them, and you never felt uncomfortable about it then— certainly you wouldn’t now, right?

except, this time it wasn’t a random boy in your calc class who smelled nice and always glanced your way with a doe eyes look or a girl at the coffee shop that smiled too sweetly at you as she handed you your order— this was rintaro that he suspected you liked.

his eyes locked with yours, trying to sense a spark of interest on your behalf (which he failed at finding.), before speaking.

“do you like me?”

you furrowed your brows at the question, a scoff leaving your lips as you chewed on a grape.

“of course i like you, why do you think i’ve put up with your shit for so long, rinnie? you’re my best friend, i have to like you or else there would be an issue.” you answered, a little dumbfounded that he asked such an obvious question.

why wouldn’t you like him? you spent every weekend at his dirty apartment, gossiping over popcorn and a movie you had no interest in, willingly. in fact, you would even say that these special two days each week made your life so much more worth living, if you had to, of course. but you’d never tell him that.

“not like that, y/n.” rintaro swallowed thickly. “do you have a crush on me?”

the world went silent as the question lingered in the air of his bedroom, your face suddenly pale and breathing seemingly more rapid. your blinks seemed to slow as your eyes trained on the lame action movie he insisted you watch, avoiding his gaze in fear of everything being given away.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and the both of you awkwardly laying in his bed together, you took a deep breath in before answering his question.

“no.”

his brows shot up in surprise for a fleeting moment before they furrowed again, confusion settling on his face.

he was sure that he analyzed everything correctly after your post, going over memories that he flagged as ‘odd occurrences’ with you over the years, even looking over text messages that seemed too flirty.

after collecting plenty enough evidence, he concluded that his best friend, y/n y/l/n, had a fat crush on him for quite some time now.

five years to be exact.

from the moment that you kissed him on new years, to the time you asked him to take your virginity on your nineteenth birthday, suna brushed it off as you just trusting him enough with your body and most sacred moments, never thinking too much about it until recently.

but as he stared at his popcorned ceiling every night since your story, he began to piece everything together— almost everything.

“no?” he repeated, stunned and in disbelief.

you had to be embarrassed and just telling him something to shut him up, hoping that he’d drop it and never bring it up again, right? just as you had with all of your other crushes in high school. maybe you picked up the pattern again, he hoped.

“nope.”

“y/n, i know. i know that you like me and it’s okay, i-i’m not weirded out by it, at all. i think it’s cool that you like-“

“just drop it.”

“no,” he sat up. “we have to talk about this y/n, it’s what we do. you like me, and that’s fine. it won’t change anything between us, i promise. i’ll pretend i don’t even know from now on and-“

“i don’t ‘like’ you, rintaro. i-i’m in love with you, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?” you snapped, your eyes closing as you spoke harshly.

he blinked, dumbfounded at the news.

in love? you were in love with him? for how long? how? why?

why hadn’t you told him? he was your best friend, the one you told practically everything to, even calling him every night to tell him about your day, even when it was the most boring occurrences. this was something huge, surely something you’d tell him if were anyone but him.

so what was so different? it was just rintaro, and he’d love you either way.

“you’re in love with me? are you sure?”

you scoffed, shaking your head in annoyance with the jet haired man beside you. you could feel the unpleasant sensation of tears building and the feeling made you want to curl under his oak bedframe and bawl until you couldn’t produce anymore tears.

“yes. i’m absolutely sure, unfortunately.” you grumbled back.

“oh.”

the new found information took a bit to fully soak into his brain, and once it had he was full of questions.

“why?” he asked first, not being a man of many words as usual.

“because, rintaro,” you sighed, finally accepting that this was the conversation of tonight as you kept your gaze on the boring movie before you began to speak thoughtfully. “you’re all i’ve ever wanted in a boyfriend. the way you talk about treating your future significant others is exactly what i want, and i guess at first the idea of it all made me develop a crush. then we started hanging out more and you began doing sweet things for me and got more attractive, i just fell? i don’t know how to explain it exactly but all i know is that you’re so perfect and i’m not. we would never work, and i’ve excepted that-“

his lips crashed with yours suddenly, taking your breath away as he did so. the unfamiliar yet wonderful feeling of his plush lips molding with yours as if he had done this a million times before caused a tear to roll down you cheek in bliss.

this was all you ever wanted, all you ever dreamed of and it wad finally happening without you even having to ask him first.

he pulled away just as your tongue grazed his bottom lip, attempting to deepen the kiss.

you nearly frowned at the denial, fearful that he began to regret his actions.

but just as your lips were about to downturn, his slender finger pressed against them.

“i’ve wanted to do that every since you baked me those pot brownies.” he admitted, breathless and face flushed.

your eyed widened at his confession, cheeks heating and world spinning around you as you recalled that night.

“but, rinnie, that was two years ago-“

“i know.”

“why didn’t you kiss me before tonight then?”

his eyes flickered to your lips, watching the plump skin part as you breathed nervously— awaiting his response.

“i’m not sure. i thought about it, every night- but i just couldn’t risk scaring you off. you’re my best friend, y/n; i can’t live without you. ever.” his voice was softer than you’ve ever heard it, and held as much emotion as he could express in a sentence without crying.

it was true, he had always wanted to kiss you until your lips were swollen and you were giggling with butterflies in your stomach. maybe, he realized in this past few minutes, he loved you too.

he was sure you were the reason he never dated any of the pretty girls that gave him their numbers, he had been pretty admin about that for some time now. but, he only thought that it was because you were the only girl he needed in his life for now, you were enough to keep him happy until you got a boyfriend of you own.

but, maybe it was something deeper now.

“then you don’t have to.” you whispered.

with that, he kissed you once more, but this time deepening the kiss himself.

the kiss held unspoken passion and wordless love exchanges, all of the pent up emotions healthily expressed themselves with each mold of your lips.

after a few minutes, he pulled away to catch his breath and to look at your worked up state for the first time.

the room filled with the sound small heavy breaths, hearts thumping nervously against both of your chests, desperate to touch each other finally. you both laid in his bed, trying to catch your breaths and register everything that had happened within such short period of time.

“y/n? can i ask you something?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

you hummed in agreement, still breathless and in slight shock of his confessions.

“what was it exactly about how i wanted to love my girlfriends that drew you in?” he asked, a small smirk threatening to sprawl on his face.

you evened your breath finally, reaching up to cup his face as you began to speak.

“the whole princess treatment plan you had, everything you said that you wanted to do with her; like driving her everywhere and carrying her in the apartment everyday after trips, stuff like that. why?”

“wanna be my princess?” he asked bluntly.

a large smile spread across your face at his question, your heart thumping rapidly against your ribs.

you were already so in love with this man but you were certain that he couldn’t have asked you out any more perfectly.

“i would love to be your princess.”

#suna 🌷#suna rintaro x chubby reader #suna rintaro #suna #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna rintaro fluff #suna fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna x reader #suna x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff

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sgiandubh · 6 months

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Belfast: not your average working-class drama

So, yes: as promised, I watched Belfast last night, until the wee hours of the next morning. And I have to immediately add I do not feel the need for a re-watch. As usually, I shall not insist more than necessary on the storyline and focus instead on the raw impressions I am taking home with me.

It was a strange experience, given all the huffing and puffing and hype and backstage context, inevitably involving C. And I defy any OL fan to watch and process it otherwise: the circus was what it was, at its time, Vanity Fair major PR blunder included. Whether you are a hardcore Balfe Nation stan or a shipper, that bias is there, looming over your screen as you try and get into the magic of it. An ambitious and, at least for me, unfulfilled goal.

The storyline is personal, in a cinematic niche that screams for political statements, peppered with psychological heaviness and guerilla brutality. The Guardian's Peter Bradshaw spoke in his chronicle about an 'euphoric eulogy' (https://www.theguardian.com/film/2021/oct/12/belfast-review-kenneth-branagh-jamie-dornan-judi-dench), where the NYT's Jeannette Catsoulis saw ' grit and glamour stroll hand-in-hand' (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/11/movies/belfast-review.html), with a marked, delighted nod to C's performance as Ma. So yes, we inevitably deal with 'rose-tinted glasses' and 'softened edges', in this nostalgic, elegantly shot coming of age plot. The aesthetic is there, with a black& white sleek filming choice that makes everything so dense at times, you simply have to hit pause and let it sink in. It is, I suspect, Branagh's nod to Truffaut and his Antoine Doinel five movie cycle, starting with Les Quatre Cents Coups (The 400 Blows, but this is an inept translation of an idiom that means 'to break havoc'), another coming-of-age working class story set in Paris during the Fifties and also shot in black and white. A clever choice that allows the audience to focus on the dialogues, without any other distraction. And ultimately, a statement that also heavily drags you by your coat's button: "hey, there, I am an independent, intellectual movie featuring beautiful people amid hardship: wanna be friends?"

Being totally impervious to the Fifty Shades of Grey charm allowed me to focus on C's performance and I have to immediately say I found it elegant, clever and endearing. And also immediately add that I still have no clue about how the hell she managed to drag all her Claire Fraser mannerisms, all the way from Inverness to Belfast and 1743 to 1969 (another important year for OL, as we all know, and that coincidence made me grin). I loved (loved-loved-loved) the broken plates' scene, but in all fairness, was it that different from the moment she slaps Laoghaire in Castle Leoch's kitchen? But I truly resonated with the tiny moments when we see her really struggling to make sense out of the Inland Revenue string of letters and find a solution to a very clear family conundrum, with the result that we all know, I suppose, by now. So yes, Mrs. Balfe: portraying strong, honest, salt of the Earth women absolutely suits you and I'd love to see more of it in the future, if only perhaps with a different, more realistic angle.

So the real question I bet you're all waiting for me to answer is this: was it an Oscar-worthy performance? Sadly, my answer is no (no matter how deep I would like it to be otherwise - and I swear I did and I do). And it's #silly and very unfair to her, I know, since it has to deal, in my humble opinion with the script's own limitations and the complete failure to find a balance between the child's gaze and the mother's presence. As the script and storyline go, Belfast is Jude Hill's movie and it is to him I would have given the Oscar. Not Judi Dench, whom I love dearly and whose voice is the most beautiful, rich, intelligent movie voice ever to have graced this Earth. She didn't need just another trinket of Hollywood affection for what is a correct, but over all forgettable performance, unlike Ciaran Hinds'. Who was simply extraordinary and that's all I can say: I am in love, and when I fall in love, I shut up - not babble on blogs.

Would I recommend it? I don't know. I mean, it's Branagh, and to be honest, I don't hold the man in great esteem. I think his reputation as the neo-Laurence Olivier is way OTT and I am also deeply amused by his pretense to be an intellectual luminary among the glitterati, when he obviously is not. But, as always, this is just me and my very clear-cut opinions. You don't have to follow them or even believe me and as always, it's just better to go see for yourself. With this caveat: don't expect too much out of it and you should probably be fine and satisfied.

I sure was very pleased to watch this nugget, my favorite scene in all the movie, to be honest. It's got perfect sarcasm and all the poetry one can find looking at Cartier-Bresson's delicate photographs of schoolchildren waiting for the lesson to end and life to truly start anew:

youtube

#Youtube

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neopronouns · 1 month

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flag id: a square flag made up of 9 squares, which are divided into 3 rows of 3 and evenly spaced with small silver dividing lines between them. the squares, from left to right and top to bottom, are very light silver, blue-black, light purple, near-black, light pink, very dark blue, turquoise, dark blue, and soft blue. end id.

image id: a 3 by 3 moodboard. from left to right and top to bottom, the images show a white gameboy with its screen lit up over a white background; pixel art of a galaxy in space captioned with 'yet nowhere feels like home.' in white; a charm of a ramune bottle filled with a galaxy and dango shaped like planets with rings, which has a gold star-shaped clip and is over a light purple background; a music player with a black background and the art and interface in a soft rainbow gradient, which has a simple planet with rings and stars where the album art would be and is playing 'hologram space music'; an illustration of several windows open on a computer screen, which clouds and a crescent moon are coming out of; small scattered stars over a dark blue background; a figurine of a sleeping character placed on a keyboard; a neon sign of three cyan shooting stars with pink trails; and an illustration looking up through tall buildings at the sky, with the buildings glitching and the windows dinosaur in the sky captioned with 'lost connection with reality'. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

mulvidigispace: a gender that can only be described through the aesthetic moodboard above

[pt: mulvidigispace: a gender that can only be described through the aesthetic moodboard above. end pt]

for anon! colors are from the moodboard and the term is 'mulvi' from 'mulviboard', 'digi' from 'digital', + 'space'!

tags: @radiomogai, @liom-archive, @inviane-archive, @narcette, @genderstarbucks, @sugar-and-vice-mogai | dni link

#mulvidigispace #mulviboard #inviane #my flags #my terms #new flag #new term #mogai flag #mogai term #mogai

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shurisbathwater · 1 year

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::𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

PART 1

"--𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄"

Riri Williams x black fem ! Reader

𝐖 𝐀 𝐑 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆 :: smoking weed , slight smut , cussing , friends w benefits 😛(fav trope)

A/n:: imagine y/n in the bohemian aesthetic 🤞🏾🤞🏾 idk she just gives me that vibe

Favourite by nicki minaj & jerimih

"--𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎, baby." Your girlfriend, shuri said as you sat on her lap, pouting at her. Shuri had been your girlfriend for about a month now, she certainly had the looks ... from her two toned plump lips to her dark skin and curly hair. She was exactly your type, but sometimes you felt like she wasn't being exactly truthful.

Alot of the time, actually.

"Okoye called me over." She chuckled lightly at your face. "You said we'd chill at home today. You always go out." You rolled your eyes as you got up from her lap. Though you knew it wasn't her "okoye".

"cmon love, don't be like that." She got up to caress your cheek. You looked up at her as she did it. She was quite tall. You were only 5"7. "Ill be home by ten." She pecked your cheek and walked out of the room, heading to the door.

Yeah, she was 100% lying to your face.

You heard a slam coming from the main door, of course. You sighed as you sat on the bed, alone once again. Fuck, you needed a smoke. With your favourite person, Riri Williams.

You : you tryna roll up or what?

Riri : you already know the answer babe

You grinned to yourself , but quickly stopped. You had a girlfriend. But the most attractive thing about Riri was that she always had your back, and the fact that she was so persistent with you.

You had led her on a couple of times, which you had regretted. Bit by bit it would eat you alive. Yet you still felt an itch of irritation when she talked to other girls.

I dont wanna hype ya

But you a lucky nigga

If my mean ass like ya

You grab your keys and walk to Riris, she lived a few floors down , all it took was a simple elevator.

You close the door behind you and dust off your outfit, a skirt and tube top you made yourself.

The Elevator opened within seconds and now you were on Riri's floor.

You took a couple of steps to Riri's apartment and knock on the door. She opens within seconds and you take a minute to admire...her in general.

She had just got her Knottless braids done , edges laid and a simple white tank top with some sweats. "Hey bae" you say as you come in to hug her. You always called eachother pet names, though Shuri didn't really like it.

Her hand traced your hips, all the way down to your...

Nevermind.

"Let me get a blunt." You giggled as you clapped your hands jokingly.

'Cause if its you I would change for

You always make sure ...

I just wanna be your favourite.

You headed to her room to roll up, of course. And thats what you did--before you knew it you were couped up on one of her balcony chairs, her sitting beside you.

You looked at Instagram and clicked on Shuris story, that wasn't Okoye's house. At all. You saw another girl, faceless due to her back facing the screen.

"Oh." You said as your voice cracked. "Pass the blunt. Quick I need it."

"Couldve been a bit more discreet." You muttered. "Whats up?" She asked. To turn the phone to her and she raises her brows. "I was right about her ass." She scoffed as she took a hit of the blunt.

"You never liked her, Riri."

" And I hope she knows it. Ion like seeing anyone with you."

You chuckled lightly as you turned off your phone, she always knew how to make you feel better. Riri passed the blunt to you and you held it in your hand for a minute. "She's a liar. I told you"

"Forreal, fuck out my face, you know what I mean?" You said as you exhaled, letting the smoke from the blunt leave your mouth. You passed it back to Riri, your eyes starting to feel heavy.

"I feel you." She replies,taking the blunt in her hands and getting a hit. "Mhm." You hummed as you adjusted yourself in the chair. "I cant believe i let her fuck on me." You mumbled as you look at the time on your phone.

"who wouldn't fuck you though?"

"You would?"

"Yeah."

"You tryna test that theory?"

"I think your already high, let's put this out..." you say as she takes another puff. This time the smoke blows straight into your mouth.

"Completely sober."

You both lean in and kiss, her tounge swirling in your mouth. She starts off at a steady pace and leans in a bit more and kisses harder. You gasp throughout the kiss.

I just wanna be your favourite.

Your heart beat quickened as you realised this is all you've been dreaming about ... this exact moment. She goes down to your neck and you wince at her touch, knowing she's going to take out all of her internalised feelings on you.

"Am I your favourite y/n?" She asked as she slipped her hand up your thigh, your knee length skirt getting in the way. You didnt reply, you knee what you were doing. You were doing something so bad, but it felt so good.

"Say it."

"Yes." You said breathlessly.

#riri x black!reader #riri williams #riri x reader #x fem reader #shuri black panther #riri imagine #riri smut #shuri x riri #bpwf #black panther imagine #iron heart

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the-catboy-minyan · 2 months

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I genuinely believe that because media loves to use nazi aesthetic and surface talking point for fantasy racism and genocide for extremely white and black talking points, people now have lost the ability to see the real world for what it is

if media tells you all the big baddies always believed in the super big bad, then of course all israelis and jews support bibi. if they see rebels burn down a castle, blow up a space ship of baddies then of course hamas was justified in what it did

they can only go by current and direct images. they cannot see the history behind things, think for themselves and realize that jews have always called israel their home. whatever name throughout history it was given we called it home.

they cannot comprehend something as complex as: the people of israel want peace too. want the government to change. that does not fit into what media has fed them. they can take our suffering, our diaspora, our grief and refit it to their stories of fantasy races but they cannot extend the empathy they have for something fictional on the screen to real people

did I ghost wrote this in my sleep? anon you put my thoughts into word almost perfectly.

a lot of modern media started twisting this trope of "evil bad guy that has a good point about society versus the hero that stands for America their people and doesn't fix the issue" and turned it into "evil fascist/government that wants to control people with fear vs the hero activist freeing the people from the fascist ruler... without actually making a new government."

loke instead of saying "the people in power are corrupt", they say "the position of power is always evil and need to be dismantled". instead of saying "take a stance and build a better future", they say "get rid of the evil! ...what happens next? world peace ig, who cares, punch a Nazi!"

glorifying acts of individual resistance that are borderline criminal (looking at you Nimona and murdering guards), demonising the positions of power instead of the people abusing that position, advocating for reactionary activism and not innovation, calling to question everything unless it's about the good people (looking at you Nimona, again), it's just repackaged "Good American Hero Saves the Day!"

this black and white thinking of "authority bad! anyone who supports the concept of authority is a fascist! what do you mean we need a government function as a society?" is just repackaged Christianity.

#asks #performative activism #politics in media #im not sure how to tag #I feel like I've started rambling about something slightly different but oh well #I got some beef with Nimona sorry #I liked the movie but the message was really weird to me #something about it was iffy

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gretavanbear · 1 year

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The Professor - Joshua Kiszka x Fem!Reader

[authors note: wow. thank you so much to everyone who's taken time to sign up for my taglist. this is my work with the most people signed up i'm sure of it! also, thank you for the little comments sent in with the submissions, those make my day! i hope you guys are excited for the next chapter..... i sure am]

SCREENING #? : THE DINNER PARTY, part one.

“Welcome!” Josh smiled as you walked through his front door. He had a lovely house. It was in a remote area, far away from the city. It took you thirty minutes to drive here from school, you wondered if he takes the same way you did when he drives to class.

“Oh wow! Thank you, very thoughtful, doll.” He chuckled as you handed him the bottle of wine you had brought as a gift.

As you stepped in his home, you turned to Josh and gestured at your shoes, wondering if he wanted you to keep them on inside.

“You can take them off, thank you for asking!” He smiled and you nodded, placing your shoes next to the front door, next to his.

Josh’s house had wooden walls, it reminded you of a family cabin but more.. lived in. He had large windows that exposed the forest surrounding the house. The living room ceiling was really high and he had a modern chandelier lighting up his dark brown furniture. He had a large circular woodsy coloured rug that covered the creaky floor, which made a sound by every step you took.

“Let me show you to the dining area” Josh smiled as his hand made it’s way to your back, leading you to the room to your right.

The dining area had a very long dinner dark wooden table, his chairs matching the aesthetic of the wood. He had everything set up on the table, with placemats and candles. It was beautiful.

“You’re the first one here” He chuckled, pulling out a chair for you to sit on. You sit and he pushes you a bit so you’re sat comfortably at the table. He decides to grab two wine glasses from the table and opens the bottle you brought.

“For while we wait… nothing wrong with that” He said softly as he poured a little in his glass, allowing himself to taste it before giving you some. You watch him with your head resting on your hands, the way he picks up the glass gently and brings it to his lips, taking a small sip and swirling around the contents in his mouth.

“Very good choice.” He states gently, pouring some in your glass then more in his, then sitting back in his chair. He watches you taste the wine like he did, and smiles at the way you reciprocate his movements.

“I asked the girl at the store which she recommended best.” You embarrassingly admit to him, your cheeks burning up.

“Well, the fact that you went through the trouble to even bring something is very kind. Thank you.” He pauses and brings up his glass for a cheer. “To our minds.” he says excitedly and you repeat his action, bringing up your glass and touching his softly. You both take a small sip with a smile.

“You have a lovely home” you complimented him and watch him blush a little, offering you a shy smile with a small thank you.

“The others are supposed to be here by now” he sighed, looking at his watch with his brows furrowed. He pouted a little, so small you could only notice since you were staring at his lips.

“I’m sure they’re on their way… you do live kinda far from town” you chuckled, taking another look around the room. As you did so, you couldn’t help but notice this amazing smell coming from his kitchen.

“Lasagna.” He said softly, getting up quickly to check his oven as he began smelling it too, holding his glass in his hand as he opened the door to check on the meal.

“Smells amazing” you peek out to watch him above his stove. He looked so good, he wore a long sleeve dark brown button down, with some black pants. No shoes and white socks. He had some necklaces on which dangled down to the center of his exposed chest. One of them had a triangle with a symbol inside it, the other one was white and beaded. You watched him close his eyes for a couple seconds as he took a sip from his glass, swallowing it and exhaling a quick breath before shaking his head and opening them once again. You faced the table before he could catch you staring, taking a sip from your wine nervously.

You felt comfortable in his presence, his house felt so sheltered in which there was a soft aura that surrounded the two of you in between these four walls. You listened to his quiet footsteps as he walked back to the table, he wore a disappointed look as he swirled his wine in his glass and rested his back against his chair.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, lowering your head a little to catch his gaze.

“The two other students I had invited just emailed me. They won’t be joining us tonight. I can understand if you want to leave. It must feel weird to you.. Being at your professors house like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck to ground himself as he feared looking up at you. He didn’t want you to leave, he wished you stayed with him all night. Ever since that first class, he wished to know everything about you. It didn’t have to be about film, or homework; he wanted to know you. And so when you cleared your throat and nervously placed your hand on his, he held his breath.

“No.. I want to stay. You made all that effort to cook and I want to be here.” You smiled and his eyes lit up, his cheeks reddened as he shot you a big smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that, doll.” He chuckled, his thumb rubbing your hand softly without realization. You didn't pull away. You felt his eyes scan you, look down to your shoulders and then your dress. His eyes lingered against your skin as the air began feeling thin. You didn’t want him to pull his gaze away, he made you feel so seen. Intellectually, emotionally and physically of course. No man had ever looked at you, cared for you the way Josh presented himself to you; in the way his eyes searched for you when he walked into a room, when he’d look over your work in his office, when he complimented and left little comments on your assignments. Even though it was small, possibly meaningless actions, they made you feel special. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes quickly before getting up and walking over to the stove once again.

“Bon appetit, as the french say” He chuckled, placing a plate of lasagna in front of you. It looked fucking amazing.

“Merci, mon chère” You smiled and he shot you a nervous smile as he cut his pasta, you did the same. You took a bite nervously and let out a small squeal at the taste. It was amazing, your heart raced at the thought of him cooking this. He can cook. You thought to yourself. Could he get any sexier? It was extremely hard to fight off the thought- no, the fact that you had a massive crush on him. He was perfect. Every time you saw him, you couldn't fight back the want to jump in his arms and kiss him all over. He was so… soft. So sexy.

“Doll?” He said softly and your gaze fell back to him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.. yes. Sorry. This is amazing, Joshua.” You spoke as you took another bite. You could cum at the taste because it was just that good. He chuckled and thanked you, occasionally taking sips from his glass and you did the same.

“Why are you studying film?” He asked, taking a bite from his plate.

“Uhm-”

“Sorry- I meant, what do you want to do after your degree?” He blushed, fixing his glasses with his middle finger as he bit his bottom lip quickly, smiling at you with a curious stare.

“I… don’t know.” You paused and he nodded, asking you to continue. “I really love the work that goes into a film, like special effects, stuff like that. I love that a director can bring a story to life. I find that so interesting. I think, maybe I’d want to work on the sets or the script writing.”

“You don’t think you could be a director?”

“Well.. I don’t think I have a voice large enough for that.” You paused as he got up and picked up your empty plate, placing it over his as he brought them to the sink.

“You’re very smart.” He breathed out, you turned your head to him as he rinsed the dishes. “I just think that you should think further than being in the background of something, you know? Your voice is large enough to express it to the world. Don’t limit yourself, doll.” He smiled as he dried his hands on the towel next to the sink. He walked over to you and lifted the wine bottle and poured some more into your glass, then his.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” He asked. You looked at his living room and saw no television, so out of curiosity you nodded.

“Can I.. use your bathroom first?” You asked and he nodded, instructing you to where it is; upstairs.

Maybe it was the wine, or your terrible sense of direction because you could not find it. Instead, you stumbled into an empty bedroom.

You could only assume it was his bedroom, and as much as your head was telling you to get out of it immediately; your heart took over as your eyes spotted all these intricate details. His bedroom being a vessel to him, his personality. The ceiling was pointed up due to the shape of his house, a large decorative light illuminated the room softly with a tungsten lighting, it wasn’t fully turned on, only enough to notice the color of his sheets. It resembled a chandelier though not as fancy, due to being made out of wood. It made the room feel so warm and welcoming.

Facing the bed was a large wooden window that faced the forest surrounding the house; the moonlight peeking through and grazing his wooden floors, hitting his sheets. They were a dark green satin-like material. At the foot of the bed, a large fluffy blanket covered the edge and fell to the floor; you couldn’t help but run your fingers against the soft material. Your eyes slowly made their way to his bedside table, where there was a small lamp, and a book.

The air got knocked out of your lungs as you noticed the camera on the tripod, placed strategically in the corner of the room.

“Doll?”

You gasped, trying to find the stolen air from your lungs as you spun around quickly to see his figure in the door frame.

“Josh. Sorry, I got lost.” You spoke, your heart beating loudly in your throat as he took a couple steps closer to you.

“Let me show you to the bathroom, yeah? I should’ve closed my door, sorry about that.” He smiled, his hand finding the low of your back.

The two of you sat on his large L-shaped couch. Josh sat in the corner whilst you sat on the right side of it. He had a projector which illuminated the room just right.

You could see the details of his face; the reflection of the screen on his glasses. He looked so pretty, and you couldn’t focus on the film he chose; it was some old film from the 1900s- silent.

“Why is there a camera in your bedroom, Josh?”

{taglist:

@joshsbadussy @alyson814 @ageoffleet @ashabeannn @schleeble @kennygvf @brokenbe11s @gretavansteph @l0vep0ti0ns @welllauragvf @misshunnybee @succeedingsigns @myfavfics01 @whorefourjakekiszka @not-a-hypochondriac @Myleftsock @leedleleedlelee003 @beth-gvf @jordie-gvf @joshkiszkas @oksydneyy @weightofstar @flo-gvf @myownparadise96 @indigokiszka @spark-my-nature @stardustofman @malany-gvf @carbonwrittingthroughtime @groupiegirlie08 @fwzco @nicoleghost18 @andromeda-raine-gvf @sarrrahhh @ren-ni @otherworldlyautumn @Timeless—classics @zoe-tally06 @hippievanfleet @hellowgoodbye @aminaalilyy @gvfcinema @joshpaperscissors @dammittjanet @enchante-em @austinbrry @meetingthestarcatchers @Samkiszkaspinkietoe @spinthehemmo @stonecoldmo @fitalich @justcarsonngvf @tearsofjakey }

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creationsbyast0ner · 1 year

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hey guys!! hope u all are well! here’s a black and white theme! let me know if u all have any other ideas. love u all <3

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zoedargue · 2 years

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wallpapers by @zoedargue

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trulybetty · 9 months

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Chiffon | Chapter One

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, implied drug abuse, reference to a previous volatile argument, angst. Word Count: 4,049 Summary: It's been almost a year since Bryony and Dieter have been in the same room, the last time had ended in raw truths and bitter words. AO3: Linked

x.chiffon masterlist.

Chiffon Chapter One.

Los Angeles, Present Day.

The Chateau Marmont, a timeless Hollywood icon, had borne silent witness to countless tales of glamour, scandal, and whispered secrets of the entertainment industry. If its walls could talk, they would spin legendary tales that would captivate any audience.

The Chateau's gardens had been transformed into a sparkling Eden, with fairy lights twinkling amidst the dark foliage. The normally humble pool, now under the luminous glow of floating lanterns, had been transformed, their flickering lights casting playful shadows. The scene was straight out of a vintage Hollywood film, radiating an opulence that spoke of the golden days.

The invitation had drawn Hollywood's crème de la crème to the 'Silver Screen Soirée: A Night of Legends,' a nostalgic nod to the glorious era of Hollywood, echoing the grandeur of Steve McQueen, Elizabeth Taylor, and Paul Newman. A notable industry event, it was hosted by one of the major studios, their flair for the dramatics was evident in the enchanting surroundings.

Dieter made minute adjustments to his suit jacket as he ventured into the lavish scenery. Respecting the theme, he had donned an impeccably tailored, single-breasted white suit jacket that nodded to the classic aesthetic. Underneath, a pristine, pleated bib tuxedo shirt peeked out, complemented by a sleek black satin bow tie. The ensemble was harmonized with black trousers and loafers, exuding elegance.

Tonight marked his first venture into the public eye since embarking on his quiet journey to sobriety. Already, the contrast was startling. The incessant heckling from the paparazzi, once an easily shrugged-off annoyance, now stung sharper in his newfound clarity. He’d struggled to maintain a façade of cheerfulness when an interviewer, with poorly masked glee, referenced the catastrophe of 'Cliff Beasts 6', suggesting that his career couldn’t plummet any lower.

Forcing down the lump in his throat, he replied, "Art, you see, is art. It's not confined by genre or bound by expectations. It's about exploring new horizons, experiencing diverse narratives." He paused, catching his reflection in the lens of a nearby camera. "After all, isn't that what makes us humans so extraordinary?"

He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips, the taste of his feigned pretentiousness threatening to make him retch. Yet, at that moment, standing under the lights at the Chateau Marmot, Dieter Bravo realized that the journey of self-discovery he was on would not be without its struggles.

He navigated through the kaleidoscope of Hollywood's elite, and expertly sidestepped the waiters who wove through the crowd, offering flutes of champagne on silver trays. Each offered glass was a gentle reminder of his recent commitment. While he hadn't gone completely teetotal, with the odd glass of wine at home on a rare occasion, he was certainly limiting alcohol at events like this that were usually a trigger, a resolution that he was intent on keeping that evening.

He surveyed the extravagant hotel grounds, an elaborate tapestry of luxurious flora and lavish decorations. The grand estate bore witness to countless debaucheries and the hedonistic exploits of celebrities past and present. The Marmont, as insiders affectionately referred to it, held as many stories as it did secrets, with Dieter's own personal narrative interwoven among them.

His memories of this place were often hazy, like a reel of film exposed to too much light. One particularly wild memory surfaced—a late-night post-premiere party where decorum had long since been abandoned. Recollections of naked bodies plunging into the pool in the early hours of the morning, lines of cocaine arranged with meticulous precision on gleaming silver trays just like the ones the waiters now carried—these were all fragments of a past he was striving to move beyond.

He had been one of them, a part of the revelry that night, swept up in a wave of reckless indulgence. The night had ended with him and a group of fellow stars in a hedonistic attempt to recreate the infamous pool scene from 'Showgirls'.

Now, sober and more self-aware, Dieter felt an odd disconnect. He was still a part of this world, but he no longer fit into it the way he used to. The ghosts of his past indiscretions still lingering.

Dieter approached the bar, bypassing the familiar allure of the myriad of alcoholic options on offer. He ordered a soda water with a slice of lime, choosing the drink for its tart taste that encouraged slow sipping. This way, he reasoned, his glass would always be in hand, providing a silent yet effective rebuttal to any offers of alcoholic drinks. While he was not ashamed of his decisions, he wasn't particularly interested in it becoming a subject of speculation or casual party conversation.

This journey towards sobriety was not his first rodeo, but it was the first one he was genuinely committed to. He had no desire to hear sarcastic references to his previous failed attempts—one of which had culminated in him making a show of checking into rehab for the benefit of the paparazzi, only to sneak out through the back door moments later, greeted by an idling limousine while having already downed half a bottle of vodka.

He murmured his thanks to the bartender and discreetly slid a generous tip across the smooth surface of the bar. Then, as if on cue, in a moment that seemed to be plucked straight out of an old Hollywood movie, the crowd of people momentarily cleared, and his eyes landed on her. Across the sprawling gardens, she was a vision, her deep brunette hair catching the light, creating a halo that seemed to set her apart from everyone else.

As he drank in the sight of her, a pang resonated through his chest, his heartbeat skipping in the familiar dance of yearning and remorse. It twisted his insides, a poignant reminder of what he had lost, of the love he had carelessly squandered.

Bryony.

She stood out even amongst the sea of Hollywood's glitterati. Many guests had adopted a relaxed interpretation of the 'Old Hollywood' theme, but Bryony had gone all in.

Her gown, a stunning blush pink that was reminiscent of the days when film was silver, fell to the floor in a cascade of silky fabric that hugged her. He watched her turn to greet someone who had called her name, the cape of the dress skimming the floor twirled with her in a bright upturn, much like the smile that now graced her face.

It was a visual homage to the bygone era, a nod to the glamour and sophistication that old Hollywood was known for. It was breathtakingly, heart-stopping beautiful—much like the woman wearing it.

Luxury was on grand display. Champagne was flowing in bountiful fountains, cascading down towers of crystal glasses that sparkled under the twinkling lights. Feathered centrepieces graced each table, adding an air of old-world glamour, while black and white portraits of classic movie stars from the 40s and 50s were scattered strategically across the sprawling hotel garden.

One particular portrait caught her eye. A golden-framed black and white photograph of Steve McQueen alongside his iconic car from Bullitt. She couldn't help but smile at the slight oversight. After all, Bullitt was a classic from the late 60s, missing the party’s theme by a good couple of decades. Nonetheless, the charisma and rugged charm of McQueen felt right at home among the vintage allure of the evening.

As she stepped into the luminescent garden, Bryony couldn't shake the feeling of being somewhat on display. Her attire for the evening was a pure work of art, something that she would have no business in purchasing for herself. Who, after all, could justify splurging a few thousand dollars on a dress that might never see the light of day again? Luckily, having a best friend who was a renowned stylist had its perks. Cricket, in her eternal resourcefulness, had procured the stunning dress for Bryony, a freebie loaner for a friend, that was worth a small fortune. Which also added to the anxiety Bryony had for the evening.

When the invitation came through for the event, Bryony had been reluctant to go, but with a script she was having a hard time getting traction on she needed the opportunity to network and pitch. So she had turned to Cricket for help, or a more apt explanation was that once Cricket got wind of Bryony attending an actual real in-person party for the first time in what seemed forever, even if it was a work event, had badgered her until Bryony gave in to Crickets request to dress her.

What followed after was a back-and-forth of emails with ideas and sketches from the stylist before Bryony off-handedly mentioned a love for a particular movie from the 40s and then as quickly as the emails had started they stopped. Communication abruptly ceased for three days, Bryony had been puzzled but also grateful for the break from the seemingly never-ending emails. Then, without any warning, on pinged her inbox. Its subject was impossible to ignore: 'THIS IS THE ONE, STOP LOOKING NOW & OPEN ME!!!'.

The dress was breathtaking. A meticulous modern reinterpretation of Lucille Ball's iconic outfit from "Du Barry Was A Lady" - the film Bryony had casually mentioned. Its unique cut emphasized Bryony's figure, while the ombré beadwork on the left shoulder added a touch of subtle opulence. The pièce de résistance, however, was a flowing cape that accompanied the dress. The cape swirled around her, making her feel as if she was wrapped in a bubble of glamour, and she found herself wondering if capes could become a staple in her everyday wardrobe.

As she navigated through the crowd, sipping her champagne and exchanging pleasantries with industry execs, she couldn't shake off the niggling feeling of anticipation. A sense of déjà vu washed over her as if history was about to repeat itself. Scanning the crowd, she spotted a few familiar faces. Some of them peers, others industry veterans, and a few up-and-coming talents.

And then, there he was.

Suddenly she was trying to catch her breath, her voice stolen. A wave of heat surged from the pit of her stomach, spiralling up and coiling around her neck. It settled as an uncomfortable lump at the back of her throat, a silent testament to the onslaught of chaotic emotions coursing through her.

The universe truly had a cruel way of throwing her in Dieter's path over and over again when she least expected it.

Dieter was holding sway over a crowd on the other side of the lush gardens. Even from this distance, his magnetism was unmistakable. His laughter, as infectious as ever, ricocheted, piercing through the dull murmur of scattered conversations around her. Each echo was a sharp twinge in Bryony's chest, her anxiety gnawing at her as she considered the possibility of crossing paths with him.

He appeared changed. He had filled out, shoulders broader and posture more commanding. His healthier appearance was hard to miss, an added vibrancy to his aura that made him seem more... alive. He bore striking resemblances to the Dieter she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

This was the first time Bryony had laid eyes on Dieter in nearly a year, marking the longest duration of time they had been apart since their initial encounter in New York half a dozen years prior. With each passing month, the notion that Dieter was genuinely a figure from her past gradually solidified. It had allowed Bryony to seriously consider, and even start to embrace, the prospect of moving forward without him.

The last time they had been in each other's presence, it had ended in a blazing argument of bitter truths. Bryony hadn’t held back, wanting to hurt him, and she did. She’d screamed at him until her voice was hoarse until he’d become silent at the viciousness of her words. Even then she hadn’t stopped, she had told him she didn’t care what became of him, even if he ended up in the gutters and to top it all off, that she would be happy to never see him again.

It was all lies.

She wouldn’t forget the hurt that had crossed his face at those words, the ones that had sobered him on the spot enough that he didn’t even have a trademark retort to throw back at her.

Hot tears on her face, she had just wanted him to feel the pain that she had been nursing ever since their bitter breakup years before. Wanted him to experience the ache that he constantly tried to drown in a sea of drugs and alcohol. She had wanted him to understand the depth of the wound he had inflicted on her—a wound that seemed to open anew every time they crossed paths.

As their eyes finally met over the din and sparkle of the party, a moment of acknowledgement passed between them. A moment stretched into a small eternity in which the noise of the world seemed to dim and their shared history came rushing back. The tension between them was palpable, even with a sea of people separating them.

Suddenly, as if a bubble had just popped within her ears, the pressure of the muffled noises around her dissipated and their silent exchange was quickly drowned out by laughter, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the undercurrent of Hollywood gossip.

Her attention was pulled back by the gentle squeeze of her date's hand, Craig—a quiet, unassuming gesture that felt both comforting and alien. Looking up at him, she was struck by the contrast he presented to Dieter. Her date was not a magnetic force like Dieter, but he was solid, reliable. His eyes held a softness that offered security, a trait that was in stark contrast to Dieter's intense gaze.

As they moved deeper into the party, Bryony's mind was a tumult of thoughts. "You look stunning, Bryony," Craig murmured into her ear, his warm breath tingling against her skin. He pressed his body against hers, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, offering silent reassurance.

A practised smile graced her features as she replied, "Thank you." It was a token of appreciation for his compliment, one that felt hollow in her chest.

They waded through the claustrophobic, jostling crowd, the ceaseless buzz of conversation, the clang of glasses against each other echoing around them. Bryony's gaze inadvertently flickered back to the far side of the garden to where she had just seen Dieter, he was gone now. A sharp uninvited pang of melancholy pierced at her chest that had her reaching up and placing a hand against it as if to stop the feeling from spreading, but it was too late. The anxiety and sadness that Dieter’s presence brought her seemed to be a permanent cross she was due to bear and she wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve it.

As if sensing her upset, Craig offered her a warm smile. His fingers intertwined with hers, their connection tethering her amidst the sea of chaos. His voice was a gentle hum in her ear as he tried to distract her with humorous anecdotes from his recent project. She laughed, the sound echoing around them, a semblance of normalcy in a situation that was anything but. Yet, even as she laughed at Craig's jokes, her gaze would drift, time and again, towards Dieter.

Elegantly weaving through the throng of industry professionals, producers, and artists, Dieter had managed to disengage himself from the mundane conversation he had just been a part of. He had been distracted by the presence of Bryony, her solitary figure amidst the sea of people, was all the motivation he needed. Her face was alight with a reserved excitement that made his heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

Approaching her, he watched as her gaze shifted, from abstract greenery around her to him. He watched Bryony’s eyes widen a fraction before looking around for a likely means to leave before he got to her. The uncertainty in her eyes as he got closer formed a knot in the pit of his stomach causing him to frown. There had been a time that his presence of just his name in a conversation would light up her face.

"Hey," he said softly as he finally reached her, "It's been a while."

She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. His eyes traced the elegant curve of her jaw, the softness of her lips, and the bright spark in her eyes that had always captivated him. He remembered how those eyes used to soften when she looked at him, how they used to light up with laughter.

"Dieter," she greeted, her voice steady, betraying none of the tumultuous feelings stirring within her.

She had spent the evening skillfully sidestepping any chances of coming face-to-face with him. Her heart pounding as she manoeuvred through the room, engaging in animated conversations, laughing at all the right moments, sipping her drink just so. To anyone watching, Bryony was the epitome of poise and grace, unflappable in the spotlight. But beneath the composed exterior, her thoughts were a chaotic jumble.

Every conversation seemed to revolve around Dieter to some degree, the industry insiders speculating on his noticeable sobriety that evening, questioning the sincerity of his recent rumoured attempt at rehab. They spoke in hushed tones, taking bets on how long until he would relapse. Dieter had earned his reputation as the Hollywood bad boy over the past three years for due reason, his erratic behaviour and substance abuse issues leading to him being blacklisted from all major studios.

Whenever his name surfaced in conversation, she'd listen politely, an unreadable smile on her face. Then she could she would expertly steer the conversation in another direction.

And now, here he was, standing in front of her. She couldn't deny the lump in her throat or the slight fluttering in her stomach. Again, taken aback by how good he looked, it really was as if he was glowing.

For a moment, they stood in silence, an undercurrent of nostalgia and unspoken words passing between them.

"Da-" his nickname for her on his tongue, not sure if he was allowed that formality anymore he corrected himself, "Bryony," he replied, his voice more husky than he intended. "It's good to see you."

Bryony eyed him for a moment, she hadn't missed the slip in the almost use of his nickname for her. There hadn't been a moment since their breakup where he hadn't relished using it or dropping it in conversation. The fact that he'd stopped himself left her conflicted, one part was thankful that he was finally respecting her boundaries, while another part mourned the loss of the intimacy the endearment had represented.

The mental back and forth of the evening was giving her a headache.

"How are you?" she asked, purposefully avoiding the question of whether she was glad to see him, especially when she was still working that one out herself.

"Good," he responded, the word so simple, yet full of meanings she wasn't sure she wanted to decipher, "I'm doing good."

The awkwardness, the formalities, and the fact that he hadn't made a sexually inappropriate comment yet were disarming to Bryony.

A moment of silence stretched between them, filled only with the ambient noise of the party. As they stood there, a sudden gust of wind rustled through the leaves overhead. A stray lock of Bryony's dark hair was caught in the breeze, obscuring her face momentarily. Acting on reflex, Dieter reached out and gently tucked the strand behind her ear.

It was then he spotted it. The delicate outline of a triangle nestled inside another triangle tattooed just behind her left ear— a small, discreet, yet significant mark. His breath hitched slightly, memories flooding back with poignant intensity.

"You didn't…" he started, his voice just a whisper. The tips of his fingers traced the tattoo's edge, she stiffened at his touch.

"Dieter…" her voice was low, almost a murmur. She didn't meet his eyes, in fear of what she would see there.

He moved his hand away, a torrent of emotions swirling within him. Betrayal wasn't one of them. Hurt, maybe. Confusion, definitely.

"You said you had it removed," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on her profile.

Long ago, still hurt by his actions and their recent breakup, she had claimed the tattoo was removed. She recalled the flicker of hurt that crossed his face, swiftly masked by his trademark grin as he ordered another round of shots for the group he was entertaining.

With a playful twirl, he had left Bryony alone at the hotel bar, his arm already slung around a blonde bombshell who seemed all too eager to whisper sweet nothings into his ear—her tongue not staying entirely in her own mouth. The memory lingered, a poignant reminder of the complicated history they shared.

She finally turned to meet his gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "I lied," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. The silence that followed was punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves and the hum of the party around them.

His mind was spinning, old emotions and new revelations colliding within him. Yet, he knew this wasn't the time to unpack everything. She'd lied, yes, but she'd also carried their shared symbol with her all these years.

"That's… surprising," he finally said, his tone carrying no accusation, just raw honesty.

She nodded, her eyes still locked with his. In that silence, a new understanding passed between them. Their past was complicated, their present even more so.

Over the months Bryony had imagined so many different ways of running into Dieter again, each one she’d act nonchalantly and give him no time of day. What she hadn’t planned for in all of these theoretical scenarios was that he could show up seemingly sober and looking like her Dieter, the one before Hollywood got their claws into him.

Her breath catching in her throat, anxiety bubbling in her chest she clutched the champagne flute in her hand so hard she was afraid she was going to break it. She needed to leave, she needed the calm that only came with distance from Dieter.

She finally turned to look at him, unable to meet his eyes, afraid she could easily slip into old habits

“It was good seeing you Dieter, I'm..." she paused, grasping at what to say, before she settled on, "I'm glad you're doing well.”

“Bryony,” he pleaded, unsure himself what he wanted from her, but knowing he wasn't ready to see her leave.

“I have to go,” she finally muttered before quickly turning away from him,

Dieter watched her go, slipping into the crowd and disappearing out of sight. He was very much aware that he held no claim over her, and had no entitlement to any part of her.

The chase of his first highs had hit a wall in the aftermath of his Oscar win. He had tried and failed to recapture the intoxicating ecstasy of that victory. The newfound pressure that came with the title of "Oscar Winner, Dieter Bravo" was a weight he was unprepared for. It had sent him spiralling, the chase of his initial highs morphing into a desperate escape from the reality of his faltering grasp on everything.

He’d taken advantage of Bryony being there, secure in the belief that no matter what he did, she would always be there to pick up the pieces. Because no matter what shit he pulled, she always showed up.

Until one day she didn’t.

He knew that he couldn't lay claim to any part of her. He had forfeited that right when he had chosen everything but her and expected her to be okay with it.

He was left standing alone in the crowd, his heart heavy. The echo of her absence was a grim reminder of the price he had paid for his choices. And as the party went on around him, Dieter was left struggling with the sobering reality of his actions and their fallout.

He had a long way to go and many bridges to mend.

Bonus:Cricket's email...

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