#La-La-Land

[gingernutsenthusiast]

right person, wrong time (variations on heartbreak)

@leemartenspoetry on tumblr

vita sackville-west & fegan’s 1924 café in dublin

everything everywhere all at once (2022)

@heavensghost on tumblr

i had to get out by indigo de souza

‘calling a wolf a wolf' by kaveh akbar

river by joni mitchell

‘english song’ in a little larger than the entire universe: selected poems by fernando pessoa

slumber by ron hicks

fish in exile by vi khi nao

penitent magdalene by antonio ciseri

@ojibwa on tumblr

this is what the drugs are for by gracie abrams & the awakening by angelo morbelli

as good as it gets by fizz

lonely this christmas by mud & picture of the christmas tree at trinity college dublin, taken by me in december of 2022

this is what the drugs are for by gracie abrams & picture by andrew collins via globalnews.ca

@inanotherunivrs on tumblr & a polaroid of me taken by my ex-boyfriend

‘in a dream you saw a way to survive’ by clementine von radics & a picture of my ex-boyfriend's window, taken by me

bluets by maggie nelson & the poolbeg generating station, dublin

‘unrequited’ by sasha m george & inheritance by matthew w. cornell

[unknown]

@ faraway on instagram & lavender sprigs farm cut by linda jacobus

the museum of heartbreak by meg leder

[unknown]

‘seaside improvisation’ by richard siken

@ dracarysgang on twitter

@-love-letters-i-never-sent

@fromdarzaitoleeza on tumblr

explosions by ellie goulding

‘i had a dream about you’ by richard siken

the beatrice letters by lemony snicket

la la land (2016)

‘catalog of unabashed gratitude’ by ross gay

@stuckinapril on tumblr

@deathlywounded on tumblr

some are always hungry by jihyun yun

‘speaking practice’ by franny choi

 a self-portrait in letters by anna sexton & a picture of my ex-boyfriend in a lake in Orfű, Hungary

@sunsbleeding on tumblr

‘there is no absolution for the fallen, only the dying’ by p.d

[n0ahsferatu]

ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔞 𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔰,

𝔉𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩—𝔞 𝔣𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔶’𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡,

ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱,

𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡

- John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (1819)

(based on the eponymous painting by Frank Dicksee (1901))

(prints available on my inprnt ! :))

[satoruxx]

you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

[filmgifs]

La La Land (2016) dir. Damien Chazelle

[ammascrellin]

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it Another version of me, I was in it

lady bird (2017) / the bear (2022–) / frances ha (2012) / past lives (2023) / good will hunting (1997) / lost in translation (2003) / fleabag (2016–2019) / normal people (2020) / la la land (2016) / moonlight (2016) / sharp objects (2018) / the worst person in the world (2021) / call me by your name (2017) / shiva baby (2020)

[hellish-cruelty]

Of lost chances, forbidden love and remorse.

It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Films in frame: Past lives, La la land, Fleabag, Normal People, In the mood for love, Atonement, Potrait of a lady on fire, Maurice, Blue Valentine, Her

[omnicpng]

Pve ending

[theaceofshovels]

The smiling fools who dream

[origampx]

better call saul, but it's a legal melodrama.....

[musings-n-museums]

i'll still harbor your love in my heart. promise.

loml, taylor swift || calyspo, george hitchcock || i'm not sorry for loving you, jorge rivera-herrans || la la land, damien chazelle || pink in the night, mitski || (credits in images..)

[letraspal]

And here’s to the fools who dream 🌌

[bellamysgriffin]

ULTIMATE SHIPS CHALLENGE - Songs [5/10]

[marv-el-spot]

FILMS WATCHED IN 2024 La la land (2016) Dir. Damien Chazelle

[carricfisher]

La La Land dir. Damien Chazelle | 2016

[therealdaydreamstark]

Ryan Gosling is very handsome.

That’s it.

That’s the post.

Like or reblog if you agree.

[albaricomics]

On today's episode: La La Land 🌌

Maybe in another life ✨