( ✉️ → @divitiaes )  :   fuck france ( ✉️ → kool kat 😽💜🫶 )  :   i need a new vacay spot ( ✉️ → kool kat 😽💜🫶 )  :   no more sunning on the french riviera for january ( ✉️ → kool kat 😽💜🫶 )  :   cause fucking fuck france + the french ( ✉️ → kool kat 😽💜🫶 )  :   istg the only good thing they ever gave us were french fries

( ✉️ → my angel 😇💙 ) : hey don't forget abt chocolate croissants!! ( ✉️ → my angel 😇💙 ) : how about we go somewhere in the caribbean? it's the total opposite of europe ( ✉️ → my angel 😇💙 ) : and some vitamin d with endless strawberry daiquiris sounds sm better don't you think?

Clueless (1995) dir. Amy Heckerling

never mind the fact they're already occupied in a conversation beforehand , the model makes her way over , hips moving in rhythm of the music in the background . alana cuts between , back turned to the woman talking as she faces the person she wants . " has anyone here told you how sexy you look tonight ? " the compliment rolls easy off her tongue , fox eyes moving down to catch the entire assemble the other's wearing . " spettacolare , "

             concluding   a   conversation   from   the   host   of   the   party   herself   about   future   modeling   opportunities   with   her   fashion label,   iris’   long   lashes   flutter   in   surprise   when   rebecca   martin   leaves   her   view   and   not   even   a   beat   after   —   alana   dellucci   soon   steps   in   her   place.   “   alana   !   ”   she   greets   the   blonde   with   a   saccharine   smile   and   a   bashful   chortle,   full   cheeks   dusted   with   roseate   blush   (   both   from   the   endless   compliments   she   has   received   about   her   haute   couture   attire   and   slight   inebriation   ).   “   and   you   look   gorgeous   as   always.   are   you   enjoying   the   party   ?   ”

               body  instinctively  leans  in  to  meet  iris  halfway,  craving  the  closeness  and  solitude  of  the  conversation  as  her  nose  wrinkles,  mostly  at  herself  for  how  loud  she  had  been  talking  previously.  “  yes  —  no  —  maybe  ?  ”  the  answers  come  out  in  hesitation,  fingers  gripping  onto  the  flute  of  champagne  tightly,  as  if  it  was  her  lifeline  in  that  moment,  which  it  technically  was,  liquid  courage  being  the  underlying  reasoning  of  this  topic.  “  i  slept  with  someone,  but  i  don’t  think  it’s  going  to  be  an  ongoing  thing  —  at  least  it  shouldn’t  be,  it  would  cause  a  whole  scene,  i  think.  ”  flute  is  emptied  within  seconds  of  confessing  her  current  status.

             iris   is   not   one   to   gossip,   spread   rumors   or   confidential   confessions   whispered   behind   closed   doors.   she   seemingly   ends   up   in   these   sorts   of   positions   with   nothing   to   do   with   this   information.   especially   from   a   friend   she   listens   to   that   has   one   specific   song   on   the   album   punisher   that   has   her   curl   up   in   a   ball   and   get   whisked   away   in   melancholy. “   francesca,   ”   she   scolds,   “   who   ?   ”   the   runway   model   gasps   at   revelation.   “   are   they   here   ?   "

" don't make me carry you back to the hotel , miss kavas. " tipsy at best together , one large hand captured hers as the other perches on the small of her back to guide her through the small crowd into the outside clearing. " i thought you said it was time to get out of here ? "

             pearl   -   white,   vintage   thigh   high   boots   aren’t   easy   to   walk   in;   however,   even   with   a   few   extra   flutes   of   champagne   in   her   system   …   iris   is   managing   to   walk   in   the   heeled   boots   without   a   sprained   ankle   (   as   of   right   now   ).   it   is   because   of   tomas’   stabilization   of   her   tipsy   frame.   “   i   did   ! ”   she   responds,   doe   -   eyes   twinkling   in   mischief   and   reflections   of   chandelier   lights. one wobbly step at a time.  “  i'm just taking my time. i don't think i'll ever be able to freely wander a palace like this again. the çırağan palace doesn't even compare ! ”

“  there isn't nearly enough champagne to deal with these .. ” artful manicure waves in direction of babbling populous , “  — unbearable imbeciles . ” a scowl painted face passes by the sisters , GLARING at the eldest as they'd clearly overheard rude commentary : if she cared even an inkling there might've been an apology . “  dad blatantly assigned networking to me because 'women love to talk' . i wonder if he'll feel like talking when he realises i swapped his protein powder with laxatives . ”

             scornful   language   at   these   sort   of   extravagant,   non   -   business   related   events   is   the   usual   from   iris’   siblings.   she   gets   it   —   a   lavish   party   of   couture   &   glamour   to   showcase   a   fashion   line   isn’t   place   and   time   for   conversations   of   business.   delicate,   manicured   nails   drum   lightly   on   champagne   glass,   glossed   brims   pursed   as   yasemin   rants.   “   he’ll   never   know   that   you   didn’t   do   any   networking   tonight   …   we’re   in   the   palace   of   versailles   for   heaven’s   sake   !   don’t   you   want   to   explore   with   me   ?   do   something   fun ?   this   is   a   once   in   a   lifetime   opportunity.   please   ?   “   the   younger   sister   begs   with   a   honeyed   smile,   glossing   over   the   last   sentence   yasemin   had   spoken.   she   really   didn’t   do   that   …   right   ?   

               “  are  we  calling  me  a  dirty  mistress  ?  —  crap  !  i  am  a  dirty  mistress.  ”

             “   what   —   i   wasn’t,   ”   iris   places   a   hand   over   her   chest   with   a   gasp,   appalled   as   she   looks   around   the   palace   as   to   who   would   call   francesca   a   dirty   mistress.   she   then   leans   closer   to   the   brunette,   voice   lowered   to   a   whisper   to   conceal   from   eavesdropping   passerbys.   she   snatches   a   nearby   fan   that   had   gotten   left   behind   on   the   adjacent   bar   -   top   to   conceal   their   conversation.   “   are   you   sleeping   with   someone   you’re   not   supposed   to   ?   ”

" my heart needs fixing. " a truthful confession , one filled with fear in case that time never happens. melting into best friend's touch , wavered exhale erupts through glossed petals. drafts upon drafts scattered around them , each soddened with tears.

             “   oh   …   ”   iris   coos,   her   gaze   flickering   from   the   melancholic   florence   to   the   scattered   loose   -   leaf   papers   with   inked   writing,   some   smudged   with   droplets   (   of   what   she   assumes   are   tears   )   and   some   crumpled   into   wrinkled   spheres.   the   act   of   consoling   is   a   difficult   task   for   a   kavas;   however,   the   second   youngest   child   of   the   dynasty   is   doing   her   best   to   improve   her   emotional   intelligence.   even   for   her   best   friend,   overthinking   the   simple   gesture   has   her   stomach   churn.   iris   lets   out   a   shaky   sigh   of   her   own,   turning   her   head   to   press   a   kiss   to   florence’s   nearest   temple.   “   things   as   precious   as   your   heart   don't   mend   itself   overnight.   it   takes   time,   ”   the   free   hand   that   isn’t   rubbing   circles   between   shoulder   blades   reaches   for   the   nearest   piece   of   paper,   eyes   poring   over   the   lyrics.   “   let’s   take   a   break   from   this,   okay   ?   i   can   make   us   some   tea.   ”

rounded fists sink deep into racing overalls , team jacket wrapped around her shoulders to provide some warmth. " i wouldn't call myself that but if you insist — " signature grin lifts corners of mouth , chocolate orbs declining to leave her features briefly. " you can have mine , the temperature's not too bad for me. is the same driver coming to collect you or could i take you instead ? "

             iris   stands   up   from   where   she   is   seated   once   she   slides   her   slender   arms   through   the   sleeves   of   the   jacket.   “   well   …   ”   she   trails   off   with   a   mischievous   grin   and   a   slight   tilt   of   her   head,   city   lights   twinkling   sepia   irises.   “   i   can   tell   mustafa   he   doesn’t   need   to   pick   me   up   if   you’re   offering   to   take   me   away   from   here.   ”

               a  beat.  a  narrowed  glance.  a  forced  chuckle.  “  —  sure,  we’ll  go  with  hypothetical.  ”

             long   lashes   flutter,   a   blink   of   confusion   …   perhaps   skepticism,   too.   “   not   sure   why   you’d   even   attend   in   the   first   place.   you’re   just   asking   to   get   beat   up   again   by   the   groom   —   …   hypothetically.   ”

mind lost in a trail of thought , the femme barely listens to the younger kavas sibling , until there's a plate of food set before her . " sorry , what ? " she snaps out of her zone , something she tends to do out of late , looking up . " i'll be honest ... i didn't catch a word you just said , "

             “   and   then   …   ”   iris   trails   off   when   she   notices   the   expression   dusted   across   selin’s   bewitching   features,   in   a   daze.   two   bowls   of   turkish   lentil   soup   in   ceramic,   steam   rising   from   the   hot   surface.   “   it’s   okay,   ”   she   reassures,   sitting   across   from   the   family   -   friend.   she   props   her   elbow   on   the   tabletop,   nestling   chin   in   the   palm   of   her   hand.   “   what’s   on   your   mind   ?   ”

" have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state ? "

             "   what   ?   no   !   i'd   never   !   "   iris   places   a   hand   between   florence's   shoulder   blades,   her   hand   lightly   rubbing   soothing   a   circle   on   her   upper   back.   "   what   happened   ?   "

"  here , you look like you're freezing.  "

             "   oh,   "   iris   glances   over   her   shoulder   as   she   feels   the   weight   of   a   jacket   lay   across   her   sun   -   kissed   shoulders.   a   smile   wipes   away   the   despondency that was plastered across her supple   features, pleasantly surprised.   "   look who it is — my   savior ! i   forgot   my   jacket   in   the   back   seat, " a roll of her eyes . . . i'm such an idiot. " i'm   not   going   to   call   my   driver   to come back   just   for   that.   "

             “  where  do  you  sit  if  you  used  to  be  in  love  with  the  bride  &  the  groom  beat  you  up  &  put  you  in  the  hospital  ?  ”

             " huh ? is this hypothetical or ... ? "