#And ballet has very much been one of the last arts to cling to that kind of thing because of a lot of things I'm not gonna get into rn

[icemankazansky]

That is an excellent point I had not considered, but I kind of hate that you said it.

Because that is correct. It is also extremely competitive, and they. Do. Have. Elite dancers, primas (prima literally means "first"), and.

Now that you mention it. They are. The best. Of. The best.

So. Now. My mind has immediately and without my permission constructed a Top Gun ballet AU, because it works perfectly, thank you so much, Cat.

don't know how to explain but these are very he was a punk, she did ballet

[lazuli-bloom]

I took a break from working on a comic and drew some fankids. I don't have everything figured out, but I have a few ideas for the kids so far.

Harminic is very sweet and soft hearted like his father, and has a creative drive like his mother only Harminic expresses it more through art and drawing rather than music. The scarf was originally a baby blanket knitted by Gramble and Harminic almost never takes it off. Harminic also drew a father's day card for Gramble that reads “I love you papa ♥” and Gramble cherishes that card so much.

Asheryll, like Floofty, loves science; though, they love astronomy and space and aliens the most. They also are rather bold and reckless like both of their parents, venturing into places they really shouldn't. The telescope was a gift from their grandfather Rosewell from his sailing days. And the jacket was from their uncle Chandlo who didn't notice the sleeves were a bit short, but Asheryll loves it anyway.

Trizzy is the oldest and is very energetic and athletic much like Chandlo. She loves ballet and gymnastics the most, but still loves to shoot hoops with her dad. Snorpy is the only one she lets do her hair, cause he's the only one that can fix her hair in just the right way. Trizzy cares very deeply for her younger sibling and cousins, and likes playing outside with them, even dragging them outside if they've been shut away for too long.

Daxbur picked up Snorpy's love for building and tinkering. They also inherited Snorpy's social anxiety and will cling to family or friends when stressed. Their goggles they got from Floofty, and the sweater was knitted by Gramble as a birthday gift. Trizzy drags them away from their projects if they've gone too long without a break, and while Daxbur gets really annoyed (especially when at a crucial point of their latest project) they do love their big sister.

-

Honestly this all spiraled a bit when Fizzlefuzzle popped into my head. Budelyn wasn't named after their mother at all and would want their kid to have something in common with their late grandmother. So rather than taking from Hollywobble for the last name, Buddy opted to take from their mother's last name Boomfuzzle.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.��

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[caketartare]

are molly and her ex on good terms? i hope so

Oh boy did you ask at such a good time

Ok they are good I want them to be good

I want to say he wasn’t a bad boyfriend he just made a stupid a mistake and he wants to make it right and I want to say they come to a good middle ground. They don't end up together because i am calling him an ex for a good reason lol

My gf came up with the name Drew for him so rn I’m going with it! When they first met in highschool he was this super goth/emo guy they both were in art and he really was into her and she was at first confused but he talked to her a lot she humored him eventually realizing they had a lot in common eventually became her boyfriend.

Eventually tho after highschool he was more than happy to be moving out of his parents place after struggling to make the money but he did it and he felt very comfortable things between him and Molly were still good but it wasn’t until the following summer he admits to her he wants to take the next step he wanted to leave the island entirely go somewhere warmer more bright he wanted to take Molly with her and mind you they were only like 19 or 20 the both of them and Molly is like “you’re crazy we just got out of highschool and you want to move to an entirely new place” but she never said no but she didn’t want to say yes either. So for the whole summer they put it off but Drew became more distant he told her he just wanted time to be alone and they didn’t split but he wasn’t really in the mood to be around anyone at the time Molly was sort of upset about it but it wasn’t the first time he has done this so she respected his need to be alone because he always came back feeling fine.

Then one day he did. He came back like he usually does and he even told her in advance he wanted to her to see him the next day because he had a surprise for her and last minute she said she had a surprise too even though she didn’t really plan anything but all night she worked on a piece of art for him. He loves her art a lot and it’s probably what made him to interested in her in the first place. Anyway the next day he gives her a new pair of shoes (some cute little ballet flats) the ones she’s been thinking about a lot and she gave him the art and or the longest time Drew just stared at it like he had a lot on his mind she spent hours making him this and he just stopped by a store and bought her a pair of shoes but she told him it came from him and she is mostly just happy he is spending time with her again because she missed him. He brought up moving again and she told him she still didn’t know yet and he told her that it was ok that he wasn’t going to make her choose and she felt happy to hear that. For the rest of the day they spent together just in bed her arms around his and he just stared at the ceiling he looked almost guilty but she didn’t know why she just assumed he was still not feeling well.

Unfortunately the next day he just disappeared and other day started to make so much more sense to her. It was Felicity who told her every detail because what doesn’t she know and Baby is like “shut up can’t you see she’s hurt” and they tried to comfort her but Molly just wanted to be alone it was weird it’s not common her friends see her like this so they just let her be alone and she was like that for months.

And at this point I know he does come back. Drew decides to pay her an unexpected visit and surprisingly Molly wasn’t *super* pissed at him she was shocked it’s been like 3 years she’s sort of gotten over him but this lingering bitterness that was left with was still clinging to her and she did have a pretty intense reaction but for some reason she didn’t tell him to leave her alone and he didn’t have to convince her he didn’t. I’m not saying she was like “lol come over and stay with us you silly goose” she lets him and the time he was there was weird.

But I will say I want them to have clarity this was when Molly just started talking to Lex she wasn’t in a new relationship and she isn’t the kind of girl to be like “oh NO my ex is coming to visit and there is a guy I just started talking to WHO AM I GONNA CHOOSE” she isn’t tied down by anyone I think her issue at the moment was finding a good middle ground with him and I think they do.

So in short yes they are on good terms I couldn’t explain to you how but they are.

[julemmaes]

Pinky Promise - Chapter One

A/N: It’s currently midnight here and believe me when I tell you my brain is fried right now. I just wanted to finish this and post it. The real story starts with the next chapter and here we have a little more info dump cause yeah. Hope yall enjoy!

Fic Masterlist

Word count: 3,802

Rhysand had to stop by his house for a short break to change and take off that uncomfortable shirt he was always complaining about. Cassian had tried to tell him several times that being an elementary school teacher he could dress as he wanted and no one would ever tell him anything, but the youngest of the brothers didn't seem to get the message.

While they were waiting for him, Cassian had tried to start a conversation with the other two, but both had answered monosyllables and he had enough problems of his own without getting involved in whatever had happened between Elain and Azriel.

Despite all this, when they got to the Archeron house, the older had a lopsided smile on his face. The smile widened even more when they entered the apartment and saw his cousin gobbling a cracker with some cheese on it. Morrigan got up in a flash and went to greet them.

"Took you long enough." said the blonde, "We were waiting for you."

Cassian snorted, taking off his shoes and jacket so as not to wet every surface of the house, "I can tell."

"Don't be an asshole." he heard from the kitchen, Amren. She was also sitting at the kitchen table, where Nesta was chopping parsley and eating strangely long, fried things.

His girlfriend looked up at him and smiled. She had to be feeling better because she had a much more relaxed expression on her face than only an hour or so before.

He approached the table, followed by Rhys who was staring with a confused look at whatever that strange food was in front of their friend.

"What the hell is that?" Azriel asked once he had freed himself from Mor's hug.

Amren arched an eyebrow, taking another fried thing and eating it whole, "Frog legs."

Cassian, who was about to kiss Nesta, stopped, looking at her in shock, "Sorry, what?"

"Yeah, a new French restaurant opened on my street and I've been getting the weirdest stuff for a couple of weeks," said Amren smiling. "I even tasted the snails last Monday." the guys all seemed shocked.

Nesta made a confused grimace, "Actually they're not as bad as you'd think, they taste a lot like chicken."

"I'm not sure I want to kiss you anymore," murmured Cassian as he walked away slightly from the girl. Rhysand nodded beside him, pouring himself a glass of wine and passing one to Azriel.

"Oh, stop being a baby, it's just food." Amren muttered, casting a hard look at him.

He kissed Nesta on the cheek anyway while she finished cutting the onions and poured everything into a pot. The smell of meat that came out was enough to make Cassian fall in love a little more.

"I'm gonna go change," announced Elain, who had been particularly quiet the whole time.

Nesta lifted her head, looking in her sister's direction, who was already in the hallway, "Did you get my stuff?" she asked loudly.

Elain's reply didn't take long to come, "Yes, I'll bring it to your room."

Nesta shook her head, even though she couldn't see her, "No don't worry, I'll take care of it, just leave it in your room." a faint okay came from the other room and then the conversation resumed.

"One very important thing before I forget, next week Manon should come here," said Mor, clutching her shoulders, "I'd like to arrange a little something at my house, with everyone. If that's alright with you," she hesitantly concluded.

Mor and Manon had met that summer when the former went on vacation to the other continent alone. She'd stayed in Erilea for almost two whole months, going from city to city and stopping only when she deemed it necessary. Once she reached Orynth she immediately made friends with a large group of people there and when they introduced her to Manon it was hate at first sight.

More than hate, actually, Morrigan felt awkward.

Manon stared at her with that seductive look of hers that she couldn't really decipher and only when the other one had explicitly told her that hes was flirting with her, Mor understood that she could enjoy that vacation and have a summer fling with the white-haired goddess. One thing led to another and they ended up getting together at the end of August and after only a month of relationship no one had had the chance to meet her yet.

"Finally we get to know her." smiled Amren.

Cassian took a beer from the fridge and put two more on the table in case someone else wanted more than wine. "Where did you say she studies?" she asked for what was probably the millionth time.

"Oh, she attends the Academy of Fine Arts in Adarlan. Rifthold precisely." said proud Mor, smiling.

"Does she study art like Feyre?" Rhysand asked, taking another cracker and putting a slice of salami on it. Cassian saw Nesta shake her head in disbelief and had to hold back a laugh. It was impressive how he managed to squeeze Feyre into his every conversation.

Mor didn't give it much thought anyway, "Nono, she dances. She studies ballet. She has a- I always forget what they are called, but she has a group, with whom she always dances. They call themselves the Thirteen," she continued nodding, "They also have a channel on You Tube, if you're interested."

Elain walked into the kitchen at that moment, wearing only a pair of pajama pants and a VHS lacrosse team sweatshirt, with the name Vanserra on its back. She took a beer from the table, opened it and drained half of it in one long sip. She made a disgusted face and then took one of the fried frog's legs off Amren's plate, who was looking at her alarmed.

Nesta gave him a confused look, mentally asking him what had happened on the way here, Cassian shrugged.

"Hey Ellie everything's alright?" asked the older sister, turning off the stove.

Elain nodded, helping her set the table while everyone took their seat. "Everything's perfect."

Azriel laughed, not even looking at the girl, "As always." Elain's head snapped in his direction.

Elain gritted her teeth, "Maybe you should learn to mind your own business."

"And you should learn what self love is and stop letting others treat you like that," Azriel said to her in an equally harsh tone.

Cassian understood then, Lucien was involved.

Nesta sighed, placing both hands on the table and bowing her head, "Can we please have one dinner without arguing?" Elain sat down with abrupt gestures and nodded, apologizing. Azriel seemed to think about it for a second, looking at the middle sister, nodding in turn and sitting next to Rhysand.

They ate quietly between jokes, and the tense atmosphere that had created immediately dissolved. Elain and Azriel bickered so often that the group was used to it and they'd become good at pretending nothing had happened.

***

Nesta was sitting on the floor next to Cassian, practically lying on top of him, while he kept his arm around her waist. Whatever Morrigan was explaining she couldn't understand. Her brain was already clouded by alcohol. They had just finished the first game of the evening and she couldn't figure out how they were all still relatively sober after all the alcohol they had ingested. Or maybe it was just her impression and in reality they were all wasted.

She looked up at her boyfriend and put her hand on his cheek, making him turn towards her. Cassian smiled at her and gave her a peck. When she kept looking him in the eyes even after they had parted, he raised an eyebrow. What is it?

Nesta shrugged and kept following Mor's speech.

"And who draws the last king drinks the whole cup, got it?" the blonde looked around the room trying to figure out if everyone understood at least one word of what she had just said. Nesta took a sip from her glass and Mor groaned, "Come on Nesta, you don't have to drink now."

Azriel chuckled, almost as drunk as she was, "Stupid drunk."

"Fuck you, Az." she giggled, clinging closer to Cassian.

Elain nodded, raising her drink to the ceiling, "Yes, fuck you Az." she hiccupped and smiled in her best friend's direction, who gave her the middle finger. They all burst out laughing, knowing perfectly well that there was no grudge in those gestures.

She couldn't follow the game properly, but someone had just drawn a seven and Nesta knew that she had to raise her arms to the sky before the others or she would have to drink again, and although this evening was putting her in a good mood, she wasn't sure that her head would thank her in the morning. Elain ended up drinking.

When it was her turn, Nesta drew a nine and thanked every god present in that moment because if she had to find a rhyme for anything the others would say, she would surely throw up from the effort.

"I picked a nine," she said giggling, falling on Cassian, who laughed and helped her up, "and since I'm feeling rather nice tonight, I'll say orange," she slurred.

"You don't play like that," said Amren annoyed beside her, taking a sip from her soft drink. It was her turn to take everyone home that night.

Mor nodded, agreeing with the girl, "You can't take the one word that doesn't rhyme with anything."

Rhysand cleared his voice, "Sporange." he said at the same time that Elain screamed the same word. The boy brought his hand to his chest, opening his mouth wide, "I said it first."

Elain shook her head, pulling herself up and bending her legs underneath her, "No. That's not true." she said snickering, "I said it first."

Cassian burst out laughing, making Nesta's back flutter. She looked at him and winked, nothing sexy in that gesture at all and it only made the boy laugh more.

"Azriel tell him that I said it first." the girl complained, pouting. "Cassian tell him too."

"Nah ha, you have your family, they're with me." said Rhysand, getting up and staggering until he was between his two brothers. He circled both their shoulders and slapped Nesta in the face unintentionally.

"Ouch." she mumbled, pulling herself up and rubbing her nose.

Elain seemed on the verge of tears, "It's not right. I was faster than you." she practically screamed, "And I only have one sister here, it isn't fair."

Rhysand shrugged, "That's not my problem."

Their little argument went on for a few minutes before the boy surrendered and admitted that she was the one who said the word first, "But only because you don't have enough sisters for backup, otherwise we'd solve it physically," he concluded, winking at her. Elain giggled and Azriel muttered something about the physical part of the hypothetical fight that made Cassian laugh.

They all turned towards the entry of the apartment when they heard the door open.

"Speak of the devil," said Mor with a smile, "Feyruuh! Join us."

Rhysand had stood up and was smiling like an idiot, "Yes Fey-Fey join us," he repeated, approaching the small threshold.

Nesta saw the boy stiffening and immediately realized that something was wrong. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Feyre," breathed Rhysand, "what happened?

From where she was sitting she couldn't see the hall, but even Amren, who had a perfect view of the whole room, had a hard look on her face. Perhaps she should have stood up.

The alcohol in her body did not allow her to stand up without the risk of falling. It was already much that she hadn't blacked out.

"Nothing, don't worry," said her sister, finally entering the room. Nesta could see her face and understood what Rhysand was referring to. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She had been crying.

"Feyre..." she said, trying to pull herself up with Cassian's help.

Her younger sister raised her hand to stop her, "I didn't want to ruin your evening, I just came to say hi." she gave everyone a faint smile. Rhysand, next to her, held his breath. He suddenly seemed much more sober, more aware of what was happening. "I'm sorry... goodnight everyone." with this she turned around and walked out of the room. Mor moved to get up, but Amren placed her hand on her leg to stop her.

Elain was the first to break the silence, "That piece of shit." Nesta gasped hearing how much anger she uttered those words with. She turned towards her sister and before she could ask her, she had already started talking again, "I can't believe it." she stood up, swaying too much and falling on her knees.

Mor was immediately beside her, "Be careful."

"It's alright." she ran her hand over her legs and then looked towards Feyre's room sighing.

"Can someone explain what the heck just happened and why no one is going to see how she's doing?" asked Amren slightly annoyed. Rhysand was out of the living room before she could finish the sentence.

They all turned to Elain, who seemed to be thinking about what to say.

"I'm too drunk for this," whispered Nesta, massaging her temples, "Ellie can you please tell me if this is a life-or-death issue?" she asked again. She felt a hand on the small of her back and turned to Cassian, who looked at her with a sad smile on his lips.

Elain laughed without amusement, "No, of course she's not dying, it's always the same old arguments with Tamlin. She should just break up with him," replied Elain surprising everyone. It was very rare that her sister said something so sincere when it came to Tamlin. The only times she had done so she had risked ruining her relationship with Lucien.

"I don't think I should tell you the details, it's her business and I'm not here to gossip," said Elain after a few minutes in which everyone had started to clean up the mess they'd made, "All you need to know is that Tamlin is a piece of shit," she whispered the last part, as if she was afraid her boyfriend might hear her.

"Nothing new." Amren said, getting up and starting to pick up the cups scattered around the room.

They heard Feyre yelling something, but Nesta couldn't understand just what she said. They waited a few seconds, to see if they needed to intervene or not, when they heard nothing more Azriel spoke.

"Do you think we should tell her something?" he asked again, still sitting on the floor, tilting his head back so that it was resting on the couch. "I mean, it's already been a few weeks since I've seen her cheerful, I'm getting worried."

Nesta was surprised. It was nice to see how much Azriel cared for the youngest of them. Of course, she knew it was true, but it was rare for the boy to express his feelings so openly.

Cassian shook his head, reducing his lips to a thin line, "Not tonight," he said as he looked down the hall, "She's probably insulting Rhys in every possible way now. I guess it's a good way to cool off," he added when they heard Feyre screaming again. Rhysand answered equally loudly.

"Maybe we should get Rhys out, he is drunk after all," Azriel said standing up. Nesta did the same, following him into the corridor.

"They know that Rhys would never lay a hand on Feyre, don't they? Even if he is drunk. And angry." whispered Elain, even though they all heard very well. Nesta giggled and Azriel shook his head smiling. She was so drunk.

Cassian answered her, "No Ellie, it's not that. It's that drunk people tend to say things they don't really mean." they heard a whisper of agreement.

Azriel was about to knock on the door, Nesta right behind him, when it opened wide and Rhysand rushed out, shoving his older brother aside. Nesta couldn't see his face, but he must have been pretty upset because Azriel followed him right out of the apartment.

Nesta blinked a couple of times and then turned to her sister, who was pacing back and forth with her hands in her hair.

"Fuck!" cried Feyre. Nesta entered the room, closing the door behind her.

Feyre looked at her and grimaced, "What? Did you also come to tell me how to live?"

Nesta shook her head, crossing her arms, "I gotta be honest with you, I'm really drunk right now, so I'm struggling a little bit to understand things, but if you want to talk to me, I'm always there. You know." she said to her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, yes. I know." Feyre murmured, "But right now I just want to sleep and be alone."

Nesta glanced at her and saw that she had mascara smeared on her cheeks. She had cried again.

They could not face this conversation now.

She sighed, "Alright, if you need anything call me, I'm sleeping at Cass's, but if you need anything I can be here in twenty minutes." she cautioned her as she got up. Before leaving, she turned to her sister and left a kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry, everything will work out. I'll be back for lunch, okay?"

Feyre frowned, "Why do you always treat me like a child?" she suddenly asked her.

Nesta was caught off guard, "What do you mean?"

"I'll be back for lunch. I can be here in twenty minutes," she said imitating her voice, "I don't need you to tell me your schedule, I can cook pasta, I can take care of myself." she pointed out, looking Nesta straight in the eye.

"I don't- Feyre, I was just letting you know that I'll eat at home, I wasn't implying anything. We live together, it seems normal to me to tell you about my movements," she replied, being defensive, "I didn't call you a child."

"Get out."

"Feyre-"

"I said get out." sobbed the sister, "Please."

Nesta tried to get closer when she saw that Feyre was crying again.

"Go away!" cried the other one. Nesta stiffened and nodded just once, saying goodnight and leaving the room.

Cassian was staring at her from down the hall with a worried look. Throwing a quick glance inside Elain's room, she saw that Amren and Mor were helping her change and would put her to bed before leaving, as often happened during these evenings.

She reached her boyfriend and when he hugged her, she let out a deep sigh, resting her head against Cassian's chest. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing her hair and holding her tight.

"Don't worry, we both know she's not mad at us. She better than anyone else." she looked up to him. Cassian moved a strand of hair from her eyes, placing it behind one ear. "Maybe we made a mistake, though, letting Rhysand talk to her."

Cassian chuckled, "Maybe." He leaned over her and brushed his lips against hers.

Nesta yawned in the kiss and they both laughed.

"Okay lovebirds, it's time to go home," announced Amren, putting on her shoes and helping Mor tie hers. The blonde was also in terrible condition.

Cassian broke the hug, but followed Nesta to her room while she changed and took things so she could change the next day, and then followed her to the bathroom, where she took extra tampons in case the ones at his house had finished. She strongly doubted it, as Cassian always worried about having an endless supply every time, but it was better to prevent.

"You're such a lost puppy." Mor laughed, looking at them, "Disgusting."

"You're just jealous cause you can't be with Manon every day," replied Azriel, walking back into the house at the right time, followed by a quiet Rhysand.

Mor poutted in a way that would make a three-year-old child look a saint and her eyes filled with tears. Amren threw her arms in the air, "Was that really necessary?" she asked exasperated, turning to Azriel, who apologized to her friend.

They all left the house, leaving the kitchen and living room relatively tidy, nothing an hungover Elain couldn't handle.

When they reached Morrigan's house, only Azriel and Amren went to escort the blonde home and make sure she went to bed.

Nesta took the opportunity to say a few words to Rhysand.

"It's not your fault if she reacted in that way," she said, placing her hand on his arm. God, the drunk Nesta was so affectionate. Rhysand looked at her with a wrinkled forehead.

"I know." he sighed, running a hand over his face and looking older than he actually was, "I just wish she understood how much she's worth. That Tamlin doesn't deserve her." he looked out the window, waiting to see the other two appear so he could get home as soon as possible and pass out in bed. "There may have been a moment in their relationship where things worked, but now it's getting too much."

"I agree." Nesta simply said. Rhysand didn't need her to comfort him, no. He needed Feyre to realize how much the situation she was in no longer benefited anyone.

***

Cassian slipped into bed next to Nesta and laid his arm around her waist, pushing her flat against him. She immediately relaxed and intertwined their fingers, carrying his hand on her belly. Cassian started massaging circles on her stomach, applying a little more pressure at the bottom to help her with the pain.

"Better?" he asked her, placing his head in the niche of her neck.

Nesta nodded, "Much better."

They spent a few minutes in silence like this. If he managed to tell her that he wanted to enlist, if he managed to confess to her his plans for the future and she accepted him, there would no longer be so many times when he would cuddle her. They would no longer be granted.

When Cassian was on the brink of falling asleep, with a thousand questions in his head, she asked him something.

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow, you wanna go out for dinner with me?" she repeated, turning around so she faced him.

Cassian opened only one eye, "Like a date?" he asked, smiling tiredly.

"Sure, like a date." she answered him, tilting her chin up so that she could kiss him.

"Yes, I'll go out for dinner with you," he said returning the kiss.

"Perfect."

"I love you." he whispered to her, hugging her.

Nesta did not answer and Cassian fell asleep shortly after, dreaming of the day when he would make Nesta his wife.

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[human-hetalia-imagines]

☆ Rules & Information ☆

This is a blog dedicated to doing imagines surrounding my original human au. Here’s a description for each character's place in the au and rules for requests — I’ll be adding more characters as I get more comfortable writing for them.

*I did change the names of some characters so that they would reflect the countries they come from

*Also: this shit long, so strap in and get ready

☆Rules for Imagines☆

I’ll do imagines, or a bullet point list of up to 6 characters at one time, or a written scenario for up to 3 characters

I’ll also do nyos and genderbends of each character (ngl, I simp after nyo!America), their placement in the au won't change.

I include South Italy and Prussia in the axis, and Canada in the Allies

I’ll write fluff, smut, angst, and everything in between

I absolutely won’t write: incest, explicit sexual assault or excessive gore

The only time I will do romantic/sexual imagines for the characters who canonically have the physical appearance of people under 18 is if you explicitly state that you want them aged up, or if the reader is also underage. If you request adult x minor, I will discard your ask & invert your rib cage.

☆Rules for Matchups☆ 

Before submitting, check if they’re open or not, they won’t always be due to not wanting my page cluttered with them

When requesting, include personality, interests, dislikes, any pets you have, fun facts about yourself, and possibly clothing style

Don’t bother to include physical features as those will not be taken into account when pairing you up with someone

Include whether you want the matchup to be romantic, platonic, or one of each

☆Character Au Placements☆

North America

America | Alfred Jones, age 19

A young man that's cheerful and strong, with a strong sense of justice. He often can't read situations and has a habit of ruining the mood, whatever mood that may be. While he’s usually labeled as “incompetent”, he’s attending college (or university, depending where you’re from) to obtain a bachelor's degree in aerospace engineering. He plays as the pitcher on his college’s baseball team, able to throw a devastating fastball. He lives in a two bedroom apartment with his twin brother, Matthew. He had a crush on Amelia Earhart when he was younger, and it’s something that Matthew teases him about on a weekly basis. 

Canada | Matthew Williams, age 19

On the surface, he's an easygoing, softhearted and gentle young man, around his twin brother and close friends, however, he can be quite sassy, nearly bordering on rude on occasion. He's in his first year of college for a degree in statistics. For the college, he plays as the Center on the hockey team, where he lets out steam on his opponents. He has a pure white rag-doll cat named Kumajirou that follows him around his and Alfred's apartment. He curses regularly in french. 

United Kingdom 

England | Arthur Kirkland, age 23

He's either a quick-witted, sarcastic and stubborn man, or the paragon of a perfect gentleman. He enjoys reading, writing (although he doesn’t show anyone his stories), and embroidering. He’s gotten so skillful at it, that he has a well-traversed Etsy shop. He’s currently in his last year of getting his Postsecondary Education degree and a minor in linguistics. When he was a teenager, he was a delinquent, going to loud concerts, fighting, dyeing his hair wild colors, and smoking. While he says he’s over it, he still keeps various CDs of OK Go and The Rolling Stones, as well as band t-shirts. It’s something that his 3 older brothers refuse to let go of.

Baltic

Estonia | Eduard von Bock, Age 19

He's a graduated honors student who has avoided many problems with wit. Usually in front of people he acts calm, logical, and businessman-like, but in private he’s actually pretty chill, albeit a bit quiet. He’s awesome with technology, and works part-time at his college as an IT advisor while he studies to get his Quality Control & Safety Technologies degree.

Latvia | Raivis Galante, age 15

He’s a boy who has been through quite a bit, making him an introvert, easily intimidated, and kind of a crybaby. He’s in his first year of high school, but due to him having an anxiety disorder, he does it digitally. The only problem is that he strives to have friends who are close to him and care for him unconditionally. He secretly likes to read cutesy romance novels from the young adult section.

Lithuania | Toris Laurinaitis, age 19

He's a patient, shy, and gentle person who has the ability to become pretty serious when he needs to be. He works as a librarian assistant while he decides between a degree in social work or education. He, unfortunately, usually over-thinks his decisions too much, causing him to have anxiety attacks. When he’s not working, he’s typically just dragged around by his close friend, Feliks, but he has a good time nonetheless.

Nordic

Denmark | Mathias Køhler, age, 19

He’s a genuine sweetheart who often accidentally always yells. While he is kind, he’s also a bit thick-headed, although he always has the best of intentions. He considers himself to be very close to his friends, especially to Lukas, although the other man’s opinion on the matter is about the opposite. He attends college for a master’s degree in, surprisingly enough, Business Administration. When he isn’t studying, he enjoys clinging to his friends and drinking. He has the habit of playing online video games with Alfred and Gilbert for way too long at a given time. He also gets oddly competitive over his degree with Tino. 

Finland | Tino Väinämöinen, Aged 20

He's a gentle, cheery young man with a tendency to like the more simplistic things in life. He seems very mature, yet can be childlike. He loves relaxing in saunas, especially with his close friends. He has a small Maltese pup named Hanatamago who attends dog shows. When he’s not attending dog shows, he does online college for a masters in Medical Assisting. 

Iceland | Emil Steilsson, age 17

He’s a mysterious boy with a cool exterior and a hot interior, being a bit easy to provoke with teasing. His older half-brother often insists that he was ‘born in his emo phase’. He taught his pet puffin (geniously named Mr. Puffin) a lot of profanity in Icelandic, Norwegian, and English. He attends high school, which he is absolutely over. On a side note, even though Lukas is his half-brother, he often refuses to have any connection to him whatsoever in public. 

Norway | Lukas Bondevik , age 18

He is, like his half-brother, very introverted. However, he is considerably more cold to strangers, but to his close friends, he can (sometimes) be very sweet. He just recently finished highschool, but intends on going straight into college for an Applied Data Science degree. He practices Modern Paganism, or Wicca, as his religion. 

Sweden | Berwald Oxenstierna, Aged 21

He’s a guy with an intimidating air who doesn’t talk much. On the inside he’s playful, but it doesn’t show at all and he just seems intimidating. He works as a carpenter after he went to a trade high school, a job that he greatly enjoys. Other than that, he likes decorative arts and being a part of debates on his free time. While he can create furniture out of wood scraps without any blueprints, he can’t put together IKEA furniture to save his life. 

Eastern Europe

Belarus | Natalia Arlovskaya, age 19

While she can be extremely possessive over her older brother and sister, she means well. She openly looks up to both of them, as they are the only two people in her life that have remained constants. She lives with both of them in a house and works part-time at her sister’s flower shop. She’s also a part-time online student with a pursuit of a criminology degree.

Russia | Ivan Braginski, age 21

He has the simplicity of a country bumpkin, an easy-going personality, and the cruelty of a child, all mixed together. Coupled with his personality traits and the fact that he’s well over 6 feet tall, he constantly (and accidentally) gives off an intimidating air. He attends college for a Avionics Technology bachelor's degree. Deep down, he’s incredibly passionate about ballet, more specifically Russian ballet, his favorite being Don Quixote, with Sleeping Beauty as a close second.

Ukraine | Katyusha Braginskaya, age 24

Ivan and Natalia’s older sister who always recklessly gets dragged into their messes. She's an absolute sweetheart who strives to make the people around her happy, even at her own expense. She can be very emotional. She owns a flower shop where she let’s her younger siblings work part-time while they go to school.

Central Europe

Germany | Ludwig Beilschmidt, age 20

He's a young man with an overly serious personality and a pessimistic nature. He's very by-the-book and has a pet peeve for a lack of cleanliness. He attends college for mechanical engineering and dorms with Feliciano and Kiku. His older brother, Gilbert, regularly breaks in and hangs out with them. His hobbies are reading, making sweets and taking walks with his dogs (that live with Gilbert). He’s in a garage band with the three aforementioned guys. He does, however, want to be a soldier like the other members in his family. Unfortunately, due to an injury to his leg that he sustained as a kid, he can’t. 

Hungary | Elizabeta Héderváry, age 26

She’s a sweet, reliable woman with a bit of a boyish streak. For a career, she works doing maintenance on a farm that belongs to a close friend, Basch (Switzerland). In her free time, she likes riding horses, going hiking and practicing instruments, one of which is the tekerőlant. She has a young child, Julian (Kugelmugel), from a previous relationship with her ex fiance, Roderich (Austria). Thankfully, things are civil between the two.

Liechtenstein | Lili Zwingli, age 15

She’s the darling, adoptive younger sister of Basch (Switzerland). She has a big heart and helps out on her brother’s farm wherever she can, and because she spends so much time on the farm, she’s gotten decently close to Elizabeta. She enjoys feeding, brushing, and cuddling her two angora rabbits on her free time, as well as knitting. Sometimes she’ll submit her bunnies to be participants in rabbit shows (Cocoa has 1 and Cinna-bun has 3).

Poland | Feliks Łukasiewicz, age 19

He has a fierce anxiety towards strangers, and upon a first meeting, he'll act very shy. Once he gets used to someone, he'll act goofy and a bit childish, clinging onto his closest friends. He attends college for a degree in fashion design and marketing. He is also very opinionated. He often drags his friends to Francis’ patisserie for cute aesthetic pictures. 

Prussia | Gilbert Beilschmidt, age 24

He comes off as rude, loud and self-centered, but he’s actually incredibly sweet and loyal almost to a fault. He’s catholic and takes his religion seriously to the point of keeping a cross necklace with him nearly all the time. While he wanted to join the army like the rest of his family, his albinism keeps him from being able to. Because of this, many members of the family see him as the Family Disappointment™, causing a strain between him and them. Unrelated, but when Ludwig lived with him, he caught Gilbert trying to play all three parts of Suite en trio, Op. 59: I. Serenade by himself with all three instruments at 2 in the morning.

Switzerland | Basch Zwingli, age 25

He’s an intimidating man with a soft heart. He owns a farm that has been in his family for generations, and it’s a job that he’s greatly proud of and fiercely protective over. He has technically adopted Lili as a daughter, but they both view each other as siblings. Regardless, Francis has still referred to him as a DILF before. He doesn’t understand what it means, and Elizabeta has assured him that he doesn't want to. On a more pure note, he enjoys attending rabbit shows whenever there’s any in the area, and has encouraged Lili to participate in them with hers.

Africa

Seychelles | Veronique Bonnefoy, age 17

She’s a southern country girl with a big heart. She's a bit sloppy and has the tendency to laze around when the weather gets warmer. She often laments over her being lonely to her friends, especially to Alfred and Matthew. She enjoys cooking, singing, and dancing. She takes after her brother figure (technically adoptive father), Francis, being a bit of a romantic herself. She’s in her senior year of high school, and is excited to be done with it. Once she ate pizza rolls in front of Francis and he almost cried. 

Asia

China | Yao Wang, age 19

He’s a (mostly) easy-going person, if not a bit of a hermit. He works as a waiter currently, but attends several courses in hopes of getting his food-handlers permit to, one day, open his own authentic Chinese food restaurant. He lives with his 5 other siblings, all of which jokingly refer to him as “grandpa” due to how often he complains about back pain and makes acupuncture appointments every 2 weeks. When his 6th sibling, Kiku, moved out for college, he was pretty salty. In his free time, he mostly plays Mahjong the practices the Érhù. He’s unabashedly likes and collects cute things such as small charms and plushies.

Japan | Kiku Honda, age 19

While, at first glance, he seems quiet and serious, he can actually be quite goofy and irresponsible with his money, buying anime memorabilia and American comic books. It’s something that one of his roommates, Ludwig, lectures him about quite a bit. His other roommate, Feliciano, sees nothing wrong with it. He attends college for a degree in animation. He enjoys messing with machines and drawing.

South Korea | Im Yong Soo, age 16

He’s a hyperactive young man with strong aspirations when it comes to schooling. He shows the upmost respect to strangers and his elders alike, but when he’s around friends and immediate family he tends to be more loud and silly. He’s currently knee deep in the K-pop wave sweeping the world and practices idol dances on tiktok. 

Taiwan | Mei Xiao, age 18

She is a strong-willed, fashionable young woman, but she's also said to have become more of a nervous type in recent times, unable to stop worrying. She has the tendency to be a bit smart-mouthed with a somewhat quick temper. Other than that, she has a sweet and cheerful disposition. She lives with all of her siblings (China, Japan, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Korea, and Thailand) and works as a hostess as a restaurant while she takes a break from schooling. 

Mediterranean

France | Francis Bonnefoy, age 24

He's someone who does things at his own pace and has an abundance of affectionate expressions for friends, family, and strangers alike. He owns his own patisserie which has become increasingly popular as a spot for dates and hipsters to eat cute, artfully made sweets and drink aesthetically pleasing coffees and teas. He loves culture and the arts, as well as paintings and clothing.

North Italy | Feliciano Vargas, age 20

He's a cheerful guy who can be a little bit of a crybaby. While he relies on his friends a lot, he deeply cares for them. He's attending college for a fine arts degree where he shares a dorm room with Ludwig and Kiku. He enjoys painting, singing and designing clothes. Also, while only a few people know this, he can play both acoustic and electric guitar. He’s in a garage band with Ludwig, Kiku, and Gilbert

South Italy | Lovino Vargas, age 22

He constantly starts arguments and fights, however he’s also a bit of a coward. He has the ability to be hardworking, but often doesn’t out of laziness. While he’ll never admit it, he’s quite the hopeless romantic, striving to find someone who will love him despite his flaws. He’s in college to obtain a bachelor's in agricultural studies with a minor in history, but absolutely refused to share a dorm with his younger brother, who he often teases about choosing to get a ‘useless art degree.’ He enjoys gardening, dancing, and playing the acoustic guitar in his free time. He also likes sketching, but due to feeling insecure, he never shows people his work, or even tells them that he does it.

Spain | Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, age 24

While he can be oblivious and even insensitive, he’s a generally friendly person with a cheerful deposition. He works as a bartender in a decently popular bar in the downtown of his city that’s within walking distance of his house. When he’s not working, he enjoys playing the flamenco guitar and practicing dancing. Since he’s very sociable, before work, he typically stops by Francis’ pastry shop to talk to him as he closes up.

Also, did you know that, in canon, Feliciano can play electric guitar and Ludwig can play the drums?? What I’m saying is: punk garage band w/ Kiku on vocals. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.  

[angerissuesandrews]

Hello! Welcome to the Reddie Fic Rec!

 Please make sure you read all tags on fics before reading! 

 Have fun and enjoy :)))

Created by Evan (@iwannadie4000 on tiktok)

And special thanks to Charlie (@hippityhoppe on tiktok) for helping!

 *CLICK HERE FOR THE GOOGLE DOC REC LINK!*

  1. ON POINTE

by tossertozier (rednoseredhair); Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519724

“Eddie was a freshman at Boston University of the arts, majoring in dance with a concentration in ballet. He went to sleep early, woke up earlier & took nothing for granted. He fucking hated his dorm neighbors, loud, obnoxious idiots who got drunk all the time. They didn't even know where the library on campus was. He didn't have any idea how the three of them, especially the one with curly hair, even GOT into that school.

  2.  BRIGHT AS YELLOW

by speakslow; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786678 

Highschool AU, Richie’s loud Eddie’s annoyed what do you expect

3. WONDER VIOLET

by belby; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179045

Eddie’s friends with Richie’s sister ,,, you know what happens

4. GO WEST

by ssstrychnine; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327069

“1996: Richie and Eddie finish school, drive to San Francisco, change their lives ft. hair braiding, a fake las vegas wedding, waterfalls, bumper cars, and approx. 3300 miles.”

5. I LEFT MY UMBRELLA AT HOME

by hippityhoppy; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775233

“By 1996, the Losers are well into college. As they often do, life and time have distanced them in more ways than one. Richie, in an attempt to cling to the normalcy of the past in what feels like a steep slope into a downward spiral, ends up on an unfamiliar doorstep of an all too familiar friend. As if Eddie didn't have to deal with enough on his own plate. The both of them, they quickly come to find out, are unprepared for the storms to come.”

6. LOVESONG (A SERIES)*

by WaxAgent; Mature-Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/852234

“They're all connected, sure, but nothing comes close to the iron bonds between Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak; they have their ups and their downs, but they always have each other. A look at their lives from leaving Derry to being dragged back by a promise than both of them had long forgotten.”

*(OKAY EVAN HERE!!! I LOVE THIS FIC/SERIES SO MUCH BUT IN PART 2 IT HAS A STRANGER THINGS CROSSOVER WITH MIKE AND EL BUT I SAY SKIP THAT AND GO ON YOU DON'T MISS MUCH AND WE ALL KNOW IM SO ANTI-CROSSOVER OKAY BYE)

7. WHENEVER I’M ALONE WITH YOU

by stellarbisexual; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182691

“Losers in college. Richie's in an alternative rock band, and Eddie has flung himself into the queer scene.”

8. SAY THAT YOU’LL STAY

by speakslow; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474044

“Richie works at a shitty amusement park for the summer and meets some new friends. Set in 1997”

9. STAY FOR THE STORM

by inoubliable; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442848

“Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way.

It's a little different, now that they're both famous.

It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together.

Well, to be fair, they've been sleeping together for a long time, but. No one knows, not even their friends. Eddie has been very careful about that. It's just not the sort of publicity he needs.

So when Beverly calls him that sunny Thursday morning, the last thing he expects her to say is, ‘You're fucking Richie?’”

10. COFFEE AND CARNIVAL BEARS

by StarshipDancer; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325209

“‘Eddie Kaspbrak knew how many germs were in a person’s mouth, and he would only swap spit with his fucking soulmate.’

Finding your soulmate should be pretty straightforward, but not for Eddie. Not when there were two possible candidates, and he had no idea which one it fucking was.”

11. LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE BOY(S)

by Kandakickas; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372279

“In which Richie and Eddie go to different colleges, and all of their friends are curious about their unnamed significant others - right up until those significant others come to visit and everyone is both shocked and confused.”

12. MEET ME HALFWAY

by ShowMeAHero; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667038

“‘Richie,’ Mike says sharply. “Who are you with? Why are you in Derry?”

‘Tell him,’ Eddie whispers again.

‘Is that Eddie?’ Mike asks.

‘Tell him, Richie,’ Eddie says again, louder.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mike says, and Richie snaps, throwing his phone hard at the kitchen wall opposite them. The back smashes and the battery falls into a bowl soaking in the sink. There’s a beat of silence where Eddie and Richie stare at the battery floating in the soapy water.

‘Good work, Kobe,’ Eddie says.”

13. DREAMBOAT

by weepies; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073438

“‘What are you? A third grader? What the fuck is this?’ Eddie asks. He looks at Richie, confused.

‘A list of fun stuff to do, duh. Can’t you read? I thought you were studying creative writing.’ Eddie glares at Richie, who raises his hands in surrender as he chuckles. ‘Okay, okay. Hear me out. Your professor tells you to write what you know, and you said you don’t know anything. Well, sugar, here’s your opportunity to learn something about yourself.’

Dumbfounded, Eddie cannot tear his eyes away from Richie, his mouth agape. ‘You’re insane,’ Eddie says.

‘And proud,’ Richie replies.

...

In which Eddie Kaspbrak is a writer with no ideas, and Richie Tozier is a coffee shop employee bursting with creativity.”

14. TO THE GUY AT THE BUS STOP:

by Ragno; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809109

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, especially if the other side of the fence is Ireland and the grass is Eddie living his own life for the first time ever away from his mom. An International Students Exchange Program is what he needs to finally stand up for himself and doing what he really wants. Who cares if he won't know anybody there? Who cares if he'll be alone in a foreign country? Who cares if he won't have his car and will need to take the bus to go anywhere?? Okay, maybe Eddie does care about that last one…But, hey, at least the real grass is really greener there. Right?”

15. CLOSER THAN MOST

by tozierbraks; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934062/chapters/34598660

“Richie was panting slightly when he reached out an arm and grasped the man’s shoulder a little too hard. He spun rapidly, stumbling backwards away from Richie, his deep brown eyes wide in shock.

‘Eds.’ Richie breathed, his stomach twisting.

Eddie’s wide eyes narrowed in confusion while his brows knitted downwards. He pulled his shoulder out of Richie’s grip

‘Sorry, do I know you?’

college au + forgetting!eddie fic”

16. SIGNED, SOMEONE

by roughentumble; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096380/chapters/50195051

“A secret admirer/love letter AU. Richie starts leaving anonymous love letters in Eddie's locker.”

17. CLUE(LESS) 

by endversed; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468440

“Every person on this sorry planet wakes up on their seventeenth birthday with a soulmate mark somewhere on their body – but it’s not always easy to figure out. It’s not their name, or their first words to you, or even some kind of matching shape. It’s not anything clearly indicative; nothing concrete (at first).

No, all this mark gives you is a clue.”

18. FOR BLUE SKIES

by sunsetozier; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978821

“Just as he’s beginning to shake himself out of his daze, his phone buzzes in his hand, a notification popping up at the top of his screen that makes his entire body freeze, reading and rereading it to make sure his eyes aren’t playing a trick on him. When the words don’t change, his jaw drops, an anxious excitement tingling just beneath his skin.

@trashmouthmusic followed you back!

[In which Richie posts anonymous covers on Twitter and Eddie is instantly infatuated with his voice.]”

19. OUR HOUSE, IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR HOUSE

by orphan_account; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458046

“Whatever song your soulmate has stuck in their head is resultantly stuck in yours. Eddie, long suffering through mattress commercial jingles and old rock hits, imagines he would kill his soulmate if he had the chance. Or, he would, if he didn't think revenge was a better answer.”

20. MAYBE, MAYBE

by lisscor; Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841593

“The light was on again. The one in room 307. Richie wondered, not for the first time, who was up there.

Maybe one day, he would find out.

*

In which two insomniacs who have never met find comfort in the last place they would think to look - each other.”

21. MOST BELOVED

by idaemilia; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160854/chapters/27598224

“‘But he had eyes like rain

and hair like waves

and a soul as vast and deep as the ocean

and I guess I didn't mind drowning in him’

-xvaniex on tumblr

Eddie keeps pining for Richie who is too blind to see it. But maybe he already knows.

*previously named Philtatos*”

22. TO WHAT WE MIGHT DO 

by MacksDramaticShenanigans; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709897

“He looks scared. More scared than Eddie’s ever seen him before. He looks nervous, too, and Eddie didn’t think it was even possible for Richie Tozier to get nervous.

But there he is. Looking like he's going to shit his pants or throw up all over himself. Eddie would be more worried about that if he still thought Richie was drunk.”

23. CROOKED HEARTS

by killerqueer; General Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093371

The Monday before Christmas break, Eddie comes to school to find a yellow rose and a letter from a secret admirer taped to his locker. He's convinced it's a prank until the same thing happens the next day and then continues the rest of the week. He's determined to find out who is doing this, even though he's convinced himself that there's no way it could possibly be the one person he really wants it to be.

24. THE THIRD DATE RULE

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059960

“Bev drags Eddie along for her tattoo session, telling him that her artist is sex on a stick. She's right, Eddie likes him immediately- if only he wouldn't talk so much.

AU where Richie is a tattoo artist and Eddie pretty much just wants to work in HR and be left alone.”

25. PARENT TEACHER ASSOCIATION (PTA)

by reddiebitch; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773060

“In which Eddie is Richie's kid's first grade teacher.”

26. FAKING IT 

by domino1234; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023273

“The obnoxiously pretty boy with the filthy mouth across the hall manages to convince Eddie to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend at his family’s lake house. Can Eddie put his unrequited crush aside to play up the charade for a week or will his feelings inevitably get in the way?”

27. Nightmares

by MargotCelvin; Teen and Up Audiences

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515028

“Richie Tozier is trying to start over in New York. He left California behind and wants to leave his old life there as well. The only thing holding him to his old life are the nightmares that have plagued him for so long. But is there something in New York that can cure him of this disease?”

28. FREAKING OUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD

by bearkwans; Explicit (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342543

“Richie thinks that this is what being a father is like. He sure fucking feels like a father, dropping all of his plans to take care of his pet, making very specific google searches and running around his apartment like a madman, grabbing toys and a blanket and a few mice in a tupperware bowl. He knows logistically that everything he’s grabbing is useless and what he really needs is a chill pill and maybe some whiskey to soothe his shaking hands, but Richie can’t help the way his paternal side wakes up and takes control of his mind.

“[or: richie's pet snake is sick and he goes to see vet eddie ;) ;)]”

29. SUGAR, HONEY, HONEY 

by thefutureisbright; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376344

“Eddie works in a bakery. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he lived nowhere near his mother. Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.

Until he met Richie fucking Tozier, and his life was never simple again.”

30. THE BLIND BOX

by tinyarmedtrex; Mature (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728915

“Eddie works at Gamestop and a dark haired stranger comes in and starts flirting with him. Eddie doesn't think much of it until they keep meeting.

Another College AU! Because why the hell not”

[satyrcon]

just had my first day of work! heres a super long entry about the day lol 

so my first day of work was yesterday. 

i woke up at around 6:45 from a very light and anxiety ridden sleep. as my past posts suggest, i’ve been anxious about starting this job since the day i got hired, roughly 3 weeks ago. i’ve been out of work for a year now, and i knew that my surprise sabbatical from adult life was coming to an end, as so many pillars of this era began to fall down around me. my boyfriend broke up with me, i got vaccinated, and social events are beginning to open up again etc. 

i was so anxious that I had already packed my lunch and snacks, had my outfit laid out on the bed, and three alarms set just in case i fell back asleep. 

when i woke up, i was taken back to summers past where i would wake up at this time on a daily basis to jump on a bus and go across town to work at a restaurant for 12ish hours. that was so terrifying, how did i ever get the courage to get out of bed? why is it now that two years later, this seems almost impossible? this new job is better in terms of pay, benefits, and location, yet I’m already wringing my towel. i thought about my most triumphant summer were i worked at an art gallery with no boss, no catty coworkers, and decent pay. 

i rolled over in bed and fed my inner demons. welcome to the first day of the rest of your life. droned in my head. i eventually rushed up without any thought and got ready. sometimes u just have to stop psyching yourself up and just do the damn thing. 

i got dressed in my planned outfit. a pair of black palazzo pants, a black t-shirt bodysuit, and a pair of ballet flats. this is my first time actually putting an effort into my appearance in over a year. it felt alien and the idea of having to do this for the unforseeable future made me feel uneasy. i liked how i looked but for how long? my stomach sunk while i reminisced about jobs past where i would come home melting and irritated by the fabric clinging onto my body. i hate summer. i put my heavy blazer on top, just to play it safe. 

the pandemic has been terrible. it has socially isolated me, deterred my future plans, made me gain a shit ton of weight, and ruined any good habit i have ever barely developed in my 23 years of life. however, the concept of wearing a mask has done wonders for my mental health. i am incredibly self conscious but the mask works as a buffer. i dont feel like no one sees me when i wear it, and im glad. 

i forced myself to drink some coffee with milk, and ate about half of a banana before feeling too nauseous to continue. this has been the earliest i’ve woke up in over a year. i sat and idled about for another 45 minutes or so while i waited for my dad to get ready. 

because i was starting so early, i was able to catch a ride from my dad. this place is so close to home its pretty much on his way to work. i was scared of being early so upon arrival i stood awkwardly behind another shop. i craved a cigarette but it was so hot and muggy it was almost suffocating to even stand still. i regretted my outfit choice. my pants were loose but they were also heavy and ill fitting on my waist. my shirt clung onto my back and the bodysuit contorted itself in with my underwear. my shoes began to give me blisters. after a few minutes of standing idly i decided to just say fuck it and walked into the building. 

to my surprise, i was the last person to walk in. i was greeted warmly and given a health check and then shown where my locker would be. the building was an opulent labyrinth filled with show rooms of expensive furniture and textiles. i walked around in awe before being led to a room where three other girls sat.

would these be my new friends? most likely not. but i was excited nonetheless. there was some idle talk before we officially started training. 

the training was typical and dragged on. the best part about the day was finding out lunch was a full hour. sure it was unpaid, but it beat the agony of trying to pile food in your mouth, grab a coffee, and smoke a cigarette in 30 minutes or less. 

the day ended and i managed to grab a ride home. i was so exhausted i was in bed by 9:30. 

i worked again today, and will work for the rest of the week, except saturday. 

i;m enjoying it but its so hard to be optimistic. my past experiences have always let me down how different can this place be? its been hard to make friends but im trying to be easy on myself. i havent been forced to talk to so many people since you guessed it, over a year. 

i hope the job proves to be useful and leads me down an exciting path. with the pay im making, im probably gonna pocket everything and keep saving up to hopefully travel.  

[tessa-quayle]

full text: 2019 Telegraph piece

check out the pictures here from @ralph-n-fiennes

the article by Hermione Eyre (official link - registration required for a free trial)

Ralph Fiennes does Ralph Fiennes so well. During our interview he delivers everything one might hope for: sensitive introspection, charm, pathos, a touch of mystery and even a (partial) defence of late Soviet Russia. ‘A lot of people didn’t experience it as repressive…’

This in the context of the stunning new film he has directed, called The White Crow, about the defection of Rudolf Nureyev from the Soviet Union in 1961. Oh, and he also impersonates a horse for me. Beautiful whinny. Sensitive nostrils.

‘It’s how I feel as the house lights go down and I can feel the expectation from the audience. You can see it in horses before a race.’ 

As we begin, in a Shoreditch loft studio not far from his home, he seems professorial, in a woolly cardigan, neatly arranging his spectacles, notebook and copy of the latest London Review of Books. When he is ready he gives me that trademark encouraging smile – half little boy, half crocodile.

Career-wise, he has it all. Family life, not so much. His greatest luxury? ‘My independence. I lead quite a solitary life.’ When I ask him if he’s a good uncle to his siblings’ progeny – Mercy, Titan and Hero, to name a few – he says flatly, ‘I could be better.’

His sister, the film-maker Sophie Fiennes, says her son Horace, now eight, really enjoyed the sword fighting in his Richard III, which is, if you think about it, a good outcome for a small boy going to see his uncle play Richard III.

His presence is a mark of quality in a film. Both the Bond and Harry Potter franchises, where he plays M and Voldemort respectively, brought him in for gravitas. Since Rada, he has run the gamut of Shakespeare, from Romeo in 1986 to his award-winning Antony & Cleopatra last year at the National, opposite Sophie Okonedo.

‘She was spectacular. I miss Antony. I found him very moving in his brokenness; his masculinity falling away and him trying to cling on to it. He’s male and middle-aged, and he keeps saying, “I’ve still got it, haven’t I? Haven’t I?”’

Does he recognise that? ‘I am 56 and I try to stay fitter’ – he does cardio and morning yoga – ‘but I can feel myself getting… old. Little shifts of energy and ambition, little impulses. You get tired more, you want to take it easy more.’ Then summoning mercurial energy in that actorly way, he explodes, ‘But I can feel myself fighting that, like, “I’m not gonna let go! Come on, come on. Yeah!” There are plenty of virile 56-year-old men.’

When I ask if he’s got a motorbike yet, like Ralph Richardson, he isn’t impressed. ‘No, my brother Joseph rides a motorbike. He can do fast cars and handle boats.’ Joseph, now 48, will for ever be the young Bard wooing Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love, just as Ralph single-handedly made Herodotus hot, that spring of 1997 when we all went to see The English Patient and wept.

Antony gives everything up for sex. ‘Yes, he does, that’s a very real erotic connection, and it’s very emasculating for him.’ Does sex make the world go round? ‘Erm, sex produces more human beings, mostly.’ Nice deflection.

Fiennes married Alex Kingston, his great love from Rada, in 1993. Their marriage ended when he left her in 1995 for the actor who was playing Gertrude to his Hamlet, Francesca Annis, 17 years older than him. Although the relationship broke down in early 2006 amid reports of his alleged infidelity, they still talk, have a deep, mutual professional respect and go to each other’s first nights.

Kingston has since gone on to have a daughter, Salome, with her second husband and Annis already had three children; Fiennes has never wanted his own family. ‘Never say never,’ he demurs. ‘But I don’t feel that’s imminent at all. I love the family and community of plays or the cast and crew of a film.’

He recollects his lines from Man and Superman, the Bernard Shaw play, ‘where Jack Tanner [whom he played] rather brilliantly pours scorn on the idea of happiness: “No family, no marriage, spread your seed, but no marriage!” I love the mischief in that.’

He says, ‘I am the eldest of six,’ as if it explains everything. The Fiennes children were born within seven years. Martha and Sophie make films; Magnus is a composer; Joseph is an actor and his twin Jacob is a gamekeeper in Norfolk. Their foster brother, Michael, now an archaeologist, came to live with them when he was 11, Ralph was two and their mother Jini was only 24.

‘My wonderful parents [Mark Fiennes, a farmer, and Jini Lash, a writer] were pressured by tough financial situations and a very erratic income,’ says Fiennes quietly. ‘They were extraordinarily courageous in giving us love and a sense of home, but also a feeling, early on, of what it is to be a burden on your parents – somewhere I think that’s affected my choices.’

‘We experienced family life with bells on,’ says sister Sophie, who’s currently working on a new series of the brilliant Pervert’s Guide to… documentaries with philosopher Slavoj Zižek. ‘You have lived that and you don’t need to replicate it.’ She remembers that as a child Ralph ‘really liked getting away from us all and being alone’.

He adored his Pollock’s toy theatre and insisted his siblings formed an audience, ‘furious’ if they didn’t comply. He set up footlights in matchboxes. ‘It was magical, very Fanny and Alexander,’ says Sophie, referencing the Bergman paean to childhood.

Ralph always had ‘a love of practical jokes’, she remembers. When they lived by the sea, on the Sheep’s Head peninsula in Ireland, he stood on a rock at high tide and pretended to be drowning.

‘Gave our mother a fit.’ He also called their neighbour to say his wife had been changing a light bulb and was now hanging from the ceiling, twitching. ‘It was April Fool’s. Our neighbour was furious.’

As a young man Fiennes became, after Schindler’s List, the intellectual’s pin-up. Is ageing harder when you’ve been a heart-throb? ‘Look, there’s lots of heart-throbs out there. You see it in younger actors who are having their moment, there’s a new one and they’re written up, how beautiful they are… You see the waves and the breaks, that person had that moment, or that opportunity. There are a handful of actors and directors who stay [the course], but mostly it’s ups and downs.’ In other words, the challenge is to convert being a heart-throb into something more meaningful and lasting.

Such as directing. He directed himself in 2011’s Bafta-nominated Coriolanus with Vanessa Redgrave as his mother Volumnia; in 2013 he directed and appeared as a passion-struck Dickens opposite Felicity Jones in The Invisible Woman.

His latest is The White Crow, based on Julie Kavanagh’s biography of Nureyev. He spent months touring Russian ballet schools before finding Oleg Ivenko, a young unknown from the Tatar State Ballet company, who is devastatingly good as the dancer. Fiennes plays his mentor Pushkin.

I didn’t really want to be in it,’ he says. ‘But I felt this creeping pressure and although I had a cast of wonderful Russian actors and dancers, the Russian producer said to me, “If you want Russian investment then we need Western names, why aren’t you in it?”’

He will dig deep to make the films he wants to make: has he put his own money in? ‘I have done, yes.’ Would you again? ‘No! I’ve had to put money into all the films I’ve made. They don’t sparkle with commercial appeal.’ Did the money come back? ‘No.’ Harry Potter helps? ‘Definitely. I don’t regret doing it. I have the resources and I believe in the project. You get one life, so f— it.’

The script of The White Crow is by David Hare, who questions the view of Nureyev’s defection as a ‘leap to freedom’, showing instead a certain nostalgia for the Nikita Khrushchev era.

Hare and Fiennes spoke to friends of Nureyev from 1950s Leningrad, twin dancers Leonid and Liuba Romankov, now in their 80s, who appear in a lunch party scene alongside actors playing their younger selves. ‘Liuba said, “I felt free, I felt happy inside myself at that time.” Nureyev was so nurtured and nourished by the dance school.’

The film doesn’t have anything to say about the propaganda and food shortages. ‘If you say I should have laid out a history lesson of the regime, I say no, I think that would have been heavy-handed. I think an audience is smart. You see the ideological pressure of the regime and the constant surveillance Nureyev was under.’

Do you feel the Soviet approach to the arts got something right? ‘I do, because that was, as I understand it, the philosophy of “we’re all a group”, though of course the individual is stifled. I’ve always been moved by what I feel to be the dedication of the Russian arts ethos, the discipline, the intense seriousness with which people take it.’

His love of Russia began in his early 20s, with him performing Chekhov and reading Dostoyevsky; he is now fluent in Russian, has ‘a lingering fantasy of buying a flat in St Petersburg’ and has been presented to Putin. ‘At the St Petersburg International Cultural Forum, which they hold every year. He was very quiet and listening.’

This was before the Salisbury poisoning. Does Fiennes believe Russia was responsible? Briskly, ‘Yes, yes. It seems to me like it was. Clearly there are problematic things with the current regime to our eyes and I do feel it’s been a tricky time since Salisbury, and that’s a shame and sad.’ Oddly enough he knows the town well, having been to Bishop Wordsworth’s grammar school.

‘I had a mostly happy time there. It was an extraordinarily shocking, cack-handed event, unacceptable and wrong in every way. And in reaction the Brits have made things harder with visas and it becomes tit for tat, and the Russians have closed down the British Council, which was a wonderful enabler of cultural interaction. I don’t know if the British Council is a cover for espionage, maybe it is…’ Bond bells are ringing. But you’re M, you must know! He replies, curtly, ‘But I’m not M, am I?’

We return to the topic of growing older. ‘There are pluses to ageing, you know? You can let go of some shit. The competition falls away. You can see the cycles of your own mistakes, hopefully you’re learning… All the things that have caused you upset:  I hurt that person, I got a bad review. You start to feel: did that really matter? The things you were so concerned about just drift away on the current of life. And your idealism is tempered and your vanity gets knocked…’

He brings up, as an example, the 2002 film he made with Jennifer Lopez called Maid in Manhattan, a comedy fairy tale in which he plays a US senatorial candidate who falls for his chambermaid. ‘I saw in the newspaper they had J Lo’s most successful films and’ – big smile – ‘Maid in Manhattan was there, and it came quite near the top’ – bigger smile – ‘and then I read: “Let down by the fact that Ralph Fiennes seems like a serial killer.” Ha ha ha! I had to laugh.

’Cos my vanity scrolled it and then… bam!’ He gives a proper belly laugh. Didn’t he get together with J Lo while they were filming? ‘No. No. I was set up by her manager and the producer. So a picture was taken of us saying goodnight after dinner and sold to the New York Post. It was a decoy, to take the focus away from the fact that she was going out with Ben Affleck.’ You didn’t mind? ‘I did, actually. I thought it was really crap.’ He shrugs, smiles. The things fame brings.

‘I give my agent all these neurotic phone calls, asking about reviews, who said this, who said that, but then, glass of wine, laugh it off.’

I feel I’ve had a flash of the blazing, naughty, fun side of Fiennes; we have known it’s there ever since we saw his suavely clownish Gustave in The Grand Budapest Hotel, and his irrepressible Harry in A Bigger Splash (complete with gyrating dance routine). There is a fun side to him, then? He smiles enigmatically as we say goodbye. ‘You won’t ever see that in an interview situation.’ 

[sleemo]

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do

What is cooler than one multibillion-dollar box-office hit? Two multibillion-dollar box-office hits. 

British actor Daisy Ridley is about to have both to her name as she returns as Rey in the next instalment of Star Wars. Emma Brockes meets her as she prepares for superstardom. — ELLE UK, December 2017

A few weeks after the release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Daisy Ridley, who plays Rey – Jakku scavenger, desert-planet survivor and feminist hero – went on holiday to an island off Croatia with friends from the crew. The actor, who was 23 at the time, had been warned that after the release of the movie – number seven in a franchise that has made more than $42bn (£33bn) – her life would dramatically change, and she was terrified. This was, after all, her first big-screen role. 

In restaurants, she scrutinised waiters to see if they were being too nice to her; she wondered if she’d ever be able to use the tube again. On holiday, her friends started calling her Linda, ‘as a jokey alias’, she says, ‘and then they started calling me Paranoid Linda’ when she became convinced a man was following them around and wondered if he was a private detective employed by the studio.

Two years later, 25-year-old Daisy is sitting opposite me at a restaurant in downtown Manhattan, dressed in a shirt and capri pants in clashing blue-and-white prints, her hair still wet from the shower. She’s brimming with the kind of enthusiasm that reads on screen as charisma, and that helps to explain her meteoric rise from stage-school graduate with a few TV credits to her name to one of the most recognisable young stars on the planet. Paranoid Linda still makes an occasional appearance, she says, but mostly she has managed to adjust to life after two Star Wars movies.

Daisy clings to the fact that fame doesn’t need to have a warping effect. It also fits in with her belief that the best way to survive the pressures of high-voltage exposure is to try enjoying it. Everything is ‘amazing’ in her world and everyone is ‘remarkable’, ranging from her mum (‘a great person’) to Barbra Streisand, with whom she recorded a song in 2016 (‘a fantastic woman’), Harrison Ford (‘awesome’) and ‘Colly’ – Olivia Colman to you and me – who she starred with in Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express and who she found ‘incredible’, naturally. There is no hint of sycophancy here; it appears that Daisy is simply joyfully happy.

This cheerfulness has acted as a useful screen to hide behind during the years since she made Star Wars. Now her character, Rey, is back for The Last Jedi, the new Star Wars movie, directed by Rian Johnson. But Daisy found this one to be much more pressure than the first movie. ‘I suddenly felt a much bigger sense of re- sponsibility,’ she says. ‘I didn’t think I was good in the first film, and I was struggling with that.’

This is no humble brag. Daisy’s candour when it comes to her own performance is kind of startling. As a child, her general inability to disguise her feelings occasionally sent her into scatter-brained overdrive, an impulse that her loving London-based family: Mum, who works in internal communications; Dad, who’s a retired photographer; and two sisters – a model and a musician.

Daisy sometimes reads as posh – there is a certain ringing tone to her accent. In fact, she says, her family is more bohemian than posh. The accent, meanwhile, probably comes from boarding school. Aged eight, Daisy went to board at Tring Park School for the Performing Arts in Hertfordshire – not, she says, from any desire to be an actor, but because a friend of hers had gone to boarding school and it sounded like fun. ‘I was such a grumpy child,’ says Daisy, smiling at the implication that she can still, now and then, throw a big wobbler. ‘I used to get super-distracted – once I’d done my work, I would be annoying to everyone else – and my mum thought if I was busy, I’d be less distracting. I always sort of felt like I didn’t fit in.’ This anxiety wasn’t just a result of being a bookish teenager, but a feeling of unreadiness to go out and meet the world as an adult. ‘At 12 or 13, I didn’t know how to do make-up,’ she says, ‘and I still don’t know how to do my hair. And people wore high heels at that age!’

Even now, Daisy retains some small sense of herself as an outsider looking in. How could she not? Her CV at this point is extraordinary: as well as Star Wars, the actress has starred in Ophelia opposite Naomi Watts, and shot Murder on the Orient Express alongside Judi Dench, Penélope Cruz, Sir Derek Jacobi and Olivia Colman. It was on that last set that Daisy finally cracked. ‘I turned to Ken, wiped away a tear, and said, “I can’t believe I’m here, thank you so much.”’ Daisy adds, only half-jokingly: ‘“Did someone make you cast me?”’ (No, he said.) The self-deprecation is real. It’s not just the burden of fame or lame faux humility. There have been times in Daisy’s life, most notably after the first Star Wars movie was released, when she was literally uncomfortable in her skin.

At 15, she was diagnosed with endometriosis, a painful condition of the uterus lining that, along with other symptoms, can result in severe acne that is exacerbated by stress. You know, the kind of stress that comes when you find yourself the star of the biggest-grossing film of all time. ‘I was in my flat going nuts, and then my skin got really bad with the stress of it all, and I hadn’t been well – I had holes in my gut wall and stuff – and we were trying to figure out what to do with that because I’d felt poorly.’ She did what she always does in times of stress and turned to her family, moving first to her sister’s house, a few streets from their parents, then to a flat she rented on her own in the same west London neighbourhood.

Still, says Daisy, it was scary. It is difficult to think of a more in- tense introduction to Hollywood than winning a big role in a new Star Wars movie, nor a bigger professional leap than Daisy’s jump from small parts in the usual roster of UK dramas and long-running soaps – Casualty, Silent Witness, Mr Selfridge – to the first day of filming The Force Awakens in Abu Dhabi. She had only turned up to the audition when a friend mentioned she was going, too, and now here she was, on day one of the shoot, with a production assistant holding an umbrella over her to keep the sun off while she looked around and ‘freaked out’. And then JJ Abrams, the director, yelled ‘action’.

Daisy will never forget that first scene, in which she had to dismount from her Speeder bike and walk a short distance with BB-8 while saying something like, ‘We’re going to get you home.’ Is it true that, after delivering her line, JJ called her acting ‘wooden’? Daisy laughs. ‘It is true! After the first take, he goes, “Just a bit... wooden”, and then we carried on. But JJ is the kind of person who before a scene says, “Don’t fuck it up.” So he said, “Just a bit wooden”, and I was like, “Oh my God.” But it got better.’ She is still laughing at the discrepancy between how bad it sounds (quite bad), and how bad it was. ‘It’s only because that word “wooden” is so loaded. But it was just tense. And I thought, “OK, loosen that shit right up and it’ll get better.”’

In fact, Daisy found JJ Abrams and the rest of the production crew to be incredibly nurturing, to the extent that she was rarely aware of the Star Wars ‘ma- chine’. It was a friendly set, she says, where she mostly hung out with John Boyega, the 23-year-old Brit who plays Finn, and with whom she had the greatest number of scenes, although her best friends were among the crew. JJ Abrams had deliberately hired hair and make-up for Daisy from the team who had worked on the Harry Potter franchise because, she says, ‘aside from the fact that they’re amazing, he knew that they had looked after Emma [Watson], Daniel [Radcliffe] and Rupert [Grint] for however many years. I felt very well taken care of.’

Harrison Ford, meanwhile, reminds her of her dad – ‘They both have an earring and are fucking awesome,’ – and the first time she shot a scene with him, he gave her a hug and said, ‘She’s so adorable’, and she felt right at home after that. (Mean- while, when her real dad visited the set, he went up to Mark Hamill and, in classic dad fashion asked, ‘So, who do you play, then?’) 

In fact, the most difficult thing about the whole Star Wars experience has been reconciling the terrible warnings she received about how life would change with the reality of what actually happened – that, and the anxiety of shooting the second film. In the first instance, ‘Everyone asked me, “Are you ready for your life to change?” And that gets into your mind.’ Throughout this period, she tried to hang on to a piece of advice given to her by the late Carrie Fisher – not to shrink away from the success, but to enjoy it – ‘And that was wonderful.’ Beyond that, she threw herself back into work. ‘At work, you’re normal, you’re not the anomaly, unlike in other situations.’ 

Surely she has occasionally been starstruck herself? ‘Absolutely not,’ she says. ‘I’ve never idolised anyone, really. I never had a crush thing. So when I met Barbra Streisand, for example, I was blown away, not because of her work, but because she’s a fantastic woman.’ It was JJ Abrams who recommended Daisy to Barbra, who was looking for a young star with a good voice to feature in Encore, her album of 2016. Daisy ended up singing with her on the song At The Ballet from A Chorus Line, and finding a new role model for herself. ‘I went to her house and we talked about [psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl] Jung because my dad loves Jung, and we were talking about dreams, and I left and got super emotional, not because she’s famous, but because she’s amazing. Part of her reputation comes from being a woman. If it was a man being “controlling” about his career, people would just say he knows what he wants.’

One of the things Daisy has struggled with in the wake of grow- ing fame is the responsibility of being told Rey is a role model for young girls. She has been asked about feminism and has had to scramble, on occasion, to form an opinion, not because she is bland or apolitical, but because everything she now says has the potential to come back and haunt her. For someone struggling with self-doubt, this can have a paralysing effect, and it is testament to Daisy’s seriousness that she has the sense to acknowledge it.

Of course, whatever kind of attitude you have, being a beautiful young woman in Hollywood means you are exposed to constant scrutiny. Daisy, like Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Lawrence before her, will have to weather the salacious interest that undercuts anything she has to say and, if she seems less confident than her peers, it’s not only part of her charm but also, paradoxically, speaks to some deep-seated security that one assumes comes from Daisy’s family; it can take greater courage to admit to one’s weaknesses than to cover them up with bravado or a fake kind of self-confidence.

She has also learned to sit back and relax a little, although shooting the second Star Wars movie, in which she had fewer scenes with her pal, John Boyega, made her briefly very stressed. ‘It’s not this big adventure that I’m on with John [unlike in the first movie]. I was thinking I did the first one because I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into and I was having loads of fun, and suddenly I’m realising what this actually is, and I can’t fucking do this.’

She says all this with a smile to acknowledge how neurotic this was. ‘I’m highly dramatic – so it’s all “oh my God”. And [director] Rian [Johnson] just said, “We’re going to do this, and these are the scenes, and this is how it’s going to work,” and finally I was like, “Oh yeah, this is working.” The fact is sometimes you’re not good at your job, and sometimes you’re better at your job.’

Having that kind of experience helps, but Daisy still has moments when she has to check herself to make sure it’s all real. There was one night on the set of Murder on the Orient Express when she found herself sitting around playing cards alongside Sir Derek Jacobi, Olivia Colman, Penélope Cruz and her husband Javier Bardem, who had come to support his wife. (Judi Dench had retired early to bed.) The next day, she and Sir Derek sat around doing the crossword. Even Paranoid Linda couldn’t worry the fun out of that one.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi is out on 14 December.

— ELLE UK, December 2017

[pbandjesse]

Tumblr tried to tagged this post as nsfw again. But i double posted it and it only tagged one. I don’t understand why it’s doing this. I dont see a tiddie in any of my pictures!! Today was awesome though. An almost perfect day. I slept okay last night. But when I woke up I was a little miserable and didn’t want to wake up. I stayed in bed until almost 730. And I figured as long as I was making breakfast by 8 I should be fine. But I was still anxious about being late to work. Which was dumb because I had so much time. Breakfast got a little derailed when I found mold in my potatoes and had to start over. But I was done eating by 815 and out of the house a few minutes later. I got to work and set everything up. Anne texted me to do a few extra things. Design our newsletter and such. I was excited about the new group. They were all very quiet. A larger group then last week and all very sweet. We have a sever allegy in the room so we’re doing a whole lot of hand washing. But it was a fun morning. We played a game and prepped some mdf boards and i filled all the paints for later in the day. We went out and had snack and it was pretty chilly out. Thankfully I brought my hoodie. When we went back inside we made glue blob things. Where we make little piles of glue and then put drops of water colors in that the kids swirl around then the glue dries clear and it make a nifty window cling. Me and Katherine made some to once the kids got the hang out it. Once most of them were done I lead a game of snake oil. Where they get some words and have to make a product out of it , drawing it and then pitching it to us. I made bread cat. It was a loaf of bread that looked like a kitty. Very cute. Margot, one of the other councelors, was the judge and I made a winner’s board for the wall. It was fun seeing the kids work on a goofy thing like that. When they all went out for lunch, me and Katherine stayed behind to help prep for the afternoon. We were talking about last week’s group and how indecisive some of them had been. And how Anne can always count on me to just get things done. Like right away. Go go go! And I was explaining how a lot of that is aniexty and that’s why I always get there early too. And Katherine was laughing telling Anne that she keeps trying to get to work earlier because when she gets there on time I have already prepped everything every time! Oops! I’m sorry! It was all in good fun though. I headed out after that. Biked home and changed bags. Caught the bus, to the train, and went to the savers. I was going to go to the bank but I forgot my atm card. Tomorrow then. I found a jar for the sand diorama for Jess. And I found an awesome old locking hat box. Had the combination code and everything. And I got myself another black dress. Really love this one. I’m really I to the faux wrap dress right now and this one is so soft. It’s the same brand as my hoodie dress which is the softest thing. Love it. I headed home after that. My replacement Pointe shoes came and while they are now the right size, they are still red. So I’m getting another refund. Annoying. I had some chili and slept for an hour. I woke up when Jess texted me. I got dressed and had some water and headed out to my date. It was such a good date. I had left to early of course, so while I waited i looked around buffalo exhange. I texted him to meet me in there. Once he came we walked over to milkjam and they were filming for the travel channel so we had to sign releases??? I thought this was so funny. Like our first date night briefly be on tv. I got cereal killer and he got the pride sorbet. We sat outside and he let me try his. We talked. I literally knew nothing about him. We haven’t texted at all so this was the first date I’ve ever had like that. He’s just finishing his associates but he has big plans! We both look like we’re leaving the city after the summer. But he’s a sweetheart. Loves baseball and plays softball. Seemed really interested while I talked big about art. Let me ramble on about my religious experiences at turrell and serra pieces. We finished our ice cream and started walking. We walked up to updown, that arcade bar, and played some games. Pinball and skeeball and a zombie shooter. He bought a drink and a cup of tokens. I’m not very good but it was fun. We played on a team for the zombie one, then traded back and forth on pinball machines. I liked playing skeeball but I’m bad at it. And the way the things were set up if you were on the machine on the left you were at a terrible disadvantage trying not to hit the person in the right. Still a lot of fun. We were going to part ways after that but we were having such a good time we decided to keep hanging out. I suggested the sculpture garden, go see that turrell I was talking about. So we walked our bikes there. I hadn’t locked my bike correctly but thankfully it was alright. We went to the turrell after running and giggling through the high grass. We sat and watched the clouds in the piece and I told him stories. We walked the rest of the park and I told him what I knew about stuff. We guessed about other stuff. And I just felt really at ease. He was incredibly sweet and asked me to have dinner with him later this week. I’m really glad he came up to me on Saturday. We biked the same direction for a minute. He scolded me for not wearing a helmet. And we went out separate ways. I’m excited to see him again I headed home. Grabbed a shower. And now I’m just chilling here. I’m really beat. Today was awesome. Tomorrow I have camp in the morning and I’m hoping to work on some art in the afternoon. Maybe I’ll bring my red Pointe shoes to ballet tomorrow. Well see. I hope you all sleep well tonight.

[bloodinhershoesrpg]

WHEN THE CURTAIN DROPS...

Your grandmother’s fingerprints have left their mark on you, imprinted you to the bone, poisoned your blood with her legacy. Few of the fleeting moments you were granted with your babushka you can still recall, an elderly woman succumbing to death’s claws too soon for her little darling to get to know her, but the desire to make her proud this has only fueled. Perfection on pointy toes; what she used to be and what you are now. Without the ballet, you aren’t you, you cease to exist. With your shoes untied, you’re catapulted into a Schrödingerian state, a shell of yourself for the duration of your spare time, the few occasions when you couldn’t say no to socialisation being periods of quiet isolation amidst a crowd. Your whole life revolves around the craft, an antsy little swan with bitter determination, twirling her way to the throne. It’s all that matters to you, to them, all you can bring yourself to care about. Having fun is a pastime for the second best, not the rising star, the weight of your name enough to reel in the spectators and make them break out into starry-eyed cheer. A real Chernova in Birmingham, what an unexpected delight...

...YOU SHOW YOUR TRUE COLOURS

...but why, oh why, is she not the one in the limelight? Countless times you have heard them whisper it in confusion and by far more often you have heard them think it, read it in their pitiful stare as they unsuccessfully attempt to suppress their disappointment on time for you not to sense it. Alas, they aren’t the only ones let down by you, your biggest critic none other than yourself, your inner voice awfully reminiscent of how you recall your late grandmother’s whenever it finds it in its figurative heart to scold you for your shortcomings. Not good enough — never has been, never will be. A toxic mantra coursing through weakened veins, times of innocence in which you had not yet internalised it too distant to be recollected, the only hope you cling to being the questionable creditability of ‘never’. One day, perchance, as long as you keep your discipline, your easiest task. Cigarette after cigarette, pill after pill, skipped meal after skipped meal — bitter determination and ethereal dedication guide you through it, lulling you in with ambiguous promises of the glory you will be soon to reap. This is the last time, you whisper in hushed agony, the last time in the shadows, the last time you’re not taking centre stage. Next season will be your season, next season you’ll show them all. Keep holding on, never falter, and your potential will be realised, belatedly but for the remainder of your career. My, oh my, darling, perhaps it would be wiser to brace yourself for your next life.

VICTIM OR CULPRIT?

Close but not close enough — only the Diamond Fairy offers you a chance to shine this season, a role you’ve accepted with a brave smile on strained lips, teeth set to disrupt the flesh’s integrity in distress the moment you were out of sight. While many gush about you being the spitting image of your late grandmother, people unfamiliar with the Chernova name, be it Aliona Chernova or any other, have a tendency of comparing your beauty to that of Alexandra Daddario. Looks are a fickle thing not to be relied upon, as fleeting as a danseuse’s career span, the number twenty-seven threatening to become another obstacle on your way to the top you struggle to eliminate regardless of your discipline.

IN RELATION TO

ELIJAH GRANVILLE: Not a soul in the company appears to be much of a fan of the man and, oh, you cannot blame them no matter how little you tend to be in agreement with the masses. Arrogance as blatant as his is not easily overlooked, an attribute initially sparking your disdain until you found him with your back to you, Russian curses about the burden of his chores reaching unauthorised eardrums. Your response was curt, your accent vastly succeeding his but his dumbfounded astonishment you couldn’t match in your wildest dreams. And just like that you’ve come to bear a powerful man’s secret, an unlikely bond sprouting from dissimilarity in perfect sync with inexplicable, presumably culturally motivated familiarity. RINA KINLEY: The grand majority of your fellow danseurs and danseuses you hardly deem worthy of their positions but no one has handed you reasons for wariness on a silver platter quite like they have. They are hardly the most unskilled at their art, this much you have to enviously confess, albeit the hierarchy should put you further above them, its failing to do so you believe to be perfectly explained by the way they so infamously like to socialise with colleagues and higher-ups alike should the opportunity arise. Pointing a finger is hardly your style but spite fills your throat at the thought of advancement by some potentially being gained with a quick spread of their legs. DESDEMONA JAMES: Out of all the other dancers, the entire staff of the opera house, no one irks you as little as her, her company a refreshing change in routine for she would never urge you to be ‘more of a human’ as the most extroverted souls have so often before. Silence of the comfortable kind is a welcome companion among the two of you and should shared smoke breaks be filled with conversation, it’s never as unpleasant, never so numbingly senseless as most other exchanges social conventions force you to take part in turn out to be in nine out of ten cases. At the very least, taking a break with her feels a little less like a waste of time, a sensation soothing enough for you to consider her a friend.

WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW

Chances of Survival: Average Applicant must be open to portraying mild drug use, eating disorder Faceclaim is non-negotiable

Starring: Nicola as Aliona Chernova

TW: eating disorder, self-destructive behaviour

Perfectly manicured nails clinked against the faded ceramic of a well-loved mug, the sepia liquid in it making its temperature known through bursts of steam descending upwards into the nothingness of the dimly-lit kitchen, unhomely and cold. She took her coffee black, her cigarettes (and the occasional advil) on an empty stomach and her breakfast sporadic, in small, self-aware bites, chewing slowly to avoid the risk of not catching satiety the second it set in — the routine of a girl with the heart of a fighter with no time to waste on caution. Irises of a blue so cold and striking it resembled the purest arctic ice rimmed slightly widened pupils staring down at the crisp surface of the burnt toast, black cherry jam smeared languidly across its wounds and smoothing them just enough to feign a healing effect. Another clink — the first weak link breaking free from the chain, an insignificantly sized crumb of fire engine red nail polish descending onto the clinically white surface of the tabletop. Just another crack in the surface, the embodiment of imperfection that haunted her like a hellhound clinging to her scent of despair, never once allowing her to succeed without immediately tainting the purity of her shine, its preserverance outliving all her attempts to exterminate it along with its ugly grin, a constant companion in her slumber.

All it takes is hard work and determination — a statement that could be the Chernova family motto, encrested and worshipped as a lifelong mantra posing as the saving grace for everyone who honoured it. Everyone, with the exception of her, trophy daughter demoted to black sheep for sheer lack of luck, all good karma long since exhausted by her forefathers and even close relatives. Perhaps choosing a field another had already undeniably made her own was her curse; perhaps the Chernovas were cursed to only find success through trying something new, as had her brother, finding fulfilment in real estate and sharing his joy with their parents through his wealth and evident inner peace — dreams thoroughly out of reach for his older sister who had never been enough and now surely never would be.

From the moment her infamously adorable little head could comprehend human speech patterns, little Aliona sensed that she wasn’t living up to parental expectations even before she had a chance to open cerulean eyes and get a first glimpse of the world she had been brought into. She was neither male nor had she picked up the bow to her father’s violin at the age of one and three quarters and instructed the quivering strings with the exquisite expertise of a veteran musician and those two offences alone already weighed so heavy on her parents’ hearts that she had merely one more chance to impress them before facing a lifetime stuck in the role of the family disappoinment — at the tender age of two. The only spark of love and adoration adult Aliona likes to believe to recall infant Allie spotting in a family member’s eyes belonged to her late grandmother, a woman of such greatness her first name had rendered itself obsolete, her celebrity attached to the term of awed endearment ‘the great Chernova’, who sacrified valueable time of her few remaining days to surverying the petite girl daintily positioned at the foot of her bed, the natural grace of a well-composed danseuse with a promising future all she cared to spot in her only granddaughter.

“One day, you’re going to be a star,” she implored an impressionable child, intonation worthy of an enchantress, “and you’ll put all the other graceless ducklings to shame. I just know it.”

With all her heart had Aliona wanted to know this too and hence she took it to be factual, embracing it as an unyielding truth, still offering her comfort as much as it tears her apart today. Her parents’ pride had long since become a subplot in a far greater scheme, the act of attempting to step into her grandmother’s footsteps enough to keep them civil but what she desired more than anything else in this world, ardently and unflatteringly, was to see the same gleam of awe in someone’s eyes again when they looked at her, triggered by her skill and talent — and one day, one day she still would. Of course she would — for that belief was what kept her going about her routine, what helped her out of bed in the morning and carried her to the opera house day after day, safe and sound on its majestic swings.

One day.

Some day.

Soon.

Or, potentially, never.

Stab stab stab.

A cigarette, stubbed out on the remnants of half devoured toast, was dropped from slender fingers beneath the shadow of a painful grimance, the crumbs of the burnt patches mingling with the ashes as though they had always been destined to find peace in their union. One day could easily be today as long as she kept assuring herself she was good enough — until she tricked herself into believing it.

[disasterdumbass]

Viktuuri coffee shop AU part 4

- the next morning Yuuri and Viktor meet up at a park

- they have a very very cute first date (Viktor doesn’t know that Yuuri doesn’t know that it is a date though) and Viktor buys the both of them hot drinks (he insists) 

- Yuuri falls in love with Makkachin at first sight (Viktor doesn’t think he can find anything beautiful anymore after he saw Yuuri play with his dog, like nope, this is it, can’t get any better [but he thinks that a lot with Yuuri tbh])

- Viktor finds out that Yuuri had a dog as well when he was younger

- the dogs name was Vicchan and Viktor wants to hug Yuuri when he tells him that the puppy passed away last summer

- after two hours both of them have to leave because work

- also, their feet and fingers are frozen but they don’t want to admit it because they don’t want the walk to end

- Viktor promises to drop by at the coffee shop later

- they stand in front of each other awkwardly because they want to hug, but how???

- Yuuri turns to leave right then but Viktor catches his hand and pulls him back and into the warmest hug Yuuri’s ever had

- ‘I had fun today’

- Yuuri is questioning his reality because how can Viktor speak when they’re so close that Yuuri can’t even think

- Just as Viktor starts to pull back, Yuuri comes back to his senses and is like, oh right, hUG! And quickly returns it

- it’s just the warmest and fuzziest thing ever and they’re so comfortable that they could stay like that for a while (or forever)

- but Makkachin wants attention too and almost throws Viktor and Yuuri to the ground in his attempt to get them to notice him

- they laugh and blush and say good bye after that and do that cliché thing where they walk away from each other but look back over their shoulders to steal glances at the other

- despite the cold they’re both really warm when they get home

- a few hours later they meet again at the coffee shop and Yuuri makes Viktor that special version of a coffee he’s been working on and tries to make a picture of a puppy on top of the foam

- Viktor almost dies when he sees it because can this man be any cuter???

- they chat comfortably and when Viktor gets up to leave Yuuri asks him if it’s okay to accompany him and Makkachin the next morning too

- Viktors eyes become big and sparkly and he reaches out to grab both of Yuuris hands in his like ‘Of course!’ while nodding fervently

- Viktor is really giddy the rest of the day because Yuuri basically asked him out!!1!11

- Yuri hates it because what the fuck happened with his work obsessed brother what happened that made him so god damn annoying?

- And maybe there’s just this tiny part in him that’s glad because Viktor seems genuinly happy now, and that just wasn’t the case before at all. That part however, gets even smaller when Viktor show him pictures of the puppy coffee Yuuri made earlier while he won’t fucking stop talking about him

- Yuuri and Viktor walking Makkachin every morning becomes a thing now

- Phichit is very delighted when he finds out, because he started being worried a little (is something wrong with the coffee shop?? Don’t they have enough employees anymore and Yuuri has to work like 12 hours everyday? - but no, he’s just been on dates with the hot Viktor guy each morning ‘I’m impressed Yuuri, I didn’t know you had it in you!’) and makes some instagram posts about Yuuri being in love (he even posts pictures of Yuuris blushing face that little shit)

- Viktor and Yuuri start to warm up to each other pretty quick and Yuuri finds out that Viktor works a lot and likes art and Yuuri tells him about his writings and paintings and photographs in return

- Viktor likes Yuuri more and more with every little thing the man is willing to share with him and wow, Yuuri is just so amazing at so many things???

- Viktor has become more handsy since they hugged and sometimes they walk so close that their hands brush 

- Viktor kinda wants to intertwine them but also wants Yuuri to do it because he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to do it

- Yuuri still isn’t used to have so much physical contact with another person and sometimes it overwhelms him a little, but he also really likes Viktor and doesn’t mind his touches

- Viktor finds out a lot about Yuuris body on those days; like the fact that his hair is actually as soft as it looks when he touches it one day when they hug goodbye, or the way Yuuris body feels so soft against his own that makes Viktor want to bury himself in the smaller man, and Yuuris scent that reminds him of hazelnut and cozy nights in front of fireplaces and Yuuri himself

- their relationship developes into a pretty stable friendship first because they’re both so oblivious about the others attraction??? 

- and they start to visit each other like once a week to cook dinner together and Yuri hates it because Viktor won’t stop showing him pictures and sigh dreamly and it’s just so fucking disgusting like get together already!!! Phichit loves it a lot because food nights mean he gets to upload cute pictures on instagram and he and his followers are lowkey (or highkey) shipping Viktor and Yuuri (they call it Viktuuri and Yuuri is so very embarresed about everything because Viktor started following Phichit on instagram so could he please stop posting pictures of Yuuri blushing with writing things like ‘Guess who we’re talking about #viktuuri #friendsnight #iwillgodownwiththisship’ as their caption because Viktor could see [Viktor does and he loves every bit of it])

- they’re pretty much a steady presence to each other now, and when Viktor asks Yuuri to accompany him to this fancy dinner (ball) of his work Yuuri doesn’t think much about it as he accepts

- he starts to worry however, when Viktor shows up at his appartment door a week before the event to go suit shopping with him 

- and he freaks out a little when Viktor takes him not to a common suit shop, but to an actual tailor

- Viktor ignores Yuuris protests about ‘No this must be so expensive I can’t let you buy this for me, we can just go to another place to get something cheaper!’ and at the end of the week Yuuri looks at himself in the mirror, just that he doesn’t look like himself at all but more like a movie star or something

- when Viktor comes to pick Yuuri up the evening of the dinner (ball) and sees him standing in the small messy appartment looking like everything Viktor could ever want (Yuuri always does, but suits still alter realities in all the best ways) he isn’t so sure whether he wants to go out anymore

- he wants to kiss Yuuri. He wants to hug Yuuri. He wants to hold Yuuris hand. He wants Yuuri to like him as much as Viktor likes him.

- he doesn’t know, but Yuuri feels exactly the same in that moment

- they get to the dinner (ball) eventually and Yuuri is blown away because there’s so much good food!!! (He also starts binge eating because this doesn’t seem like a ‘We’re here as friends like so many others’ but more of a ‘It’s a date and we should totally slow dance while cuddling’ kind of setting and Yuuri’s becoming really nervous)

- Viktor is busy glaring at the women that talk to Yuuri, trying to ask him for a dance while he has to talk with business partners and his father

- he feels better when Yuri comes over to keep Yuuri company (or more nag at him about how fucking boring this evening is why does he even have to be here it’s not like he can do anything in the company yet after all)

- after a while though Yuri decides to have some fun tonight, so he hands Yuuri some glasses of various alcoholic drinks to see if he can make him drunk

- it works and Viktor is glad that he finished talking to all the important guests when Yuuri comes over and asks him for a dance, obviously drunk with the way he’s slurring his words

- Viktor knows he should call it a night before Yuuri does something he regrets later, but he just asked him for a dance, and as a gentleman he has to oblige his dates wishes, right?

- Yuuri is an adoringly cute drunk Viktor observes that evening. But he is not only cute, he notes later as Yuuri starts to cling to him in a way that sends shivers all over his body. He’s a confident drunk and that makes itself clear in the way Yuuri is leading the dance, swirling Viktor around like it’s nothing and Viktor isn’t completely sure whether Yuuri is actually drunk or not, because drunk people don’t usually move with the grace of a ballet dancer??? 

- the evening ends when Yuuri starts to unbutton his shirt and Viktor decides that he doesn’t want anyone else but him to see what follows. He drags Yuuri away while managing to let it look like they’re both just tired and leaving for tonight.

- Yuuri thanks him the next day when he wakes up to a glass of water, a painkiller and a note that says ‘Dinner at my apartment, 7pm. Hope your head doesn’t hurt too much. - Viktor P.S.: You’re cute when you’re tired~’

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4  part 5   part 6

[lettingthemgo]

Letter o2. To The Best Friend That Got Away

Honestly, I can’t start this with anything else except for, I’m sorry. You tried so hard to be there for me, be everything you thought a best friend should be and I don’t think I really appreciated the way you were there for me. At least, not the way you needed me to appreciate it. I should have given you more space, more freedom, more trust that at the end of the day you’d still be there. There’s a thing my dad said to me that I think about every time my frustration for the ending of this friendship bubbles up in my heart: “There is nothing that anyone can do right now, that you can’t forgive later because you were kids.” We were kids. We were kids who were forced to be adults by everyone around us, including each other. We were kids who thought we were adults before the appropriate time. We were kids, and that’s where my forgiveness and the process of my healing began. But this letter is where it ends.  

I’ve thought about it over and over whether I should ask you to forgive me or if I should contact you at all. Whether it would be worth it to be friends again and try to rebuild our relationship from square one. But I don’t think I should wait for your forgiveness. I should probably first forgive myself. And if you do forgive me, know that I accept it. I truly do. And I’ve taken something from you that I think was the lesson of our friendship: People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I’ve said this multiple times, I’ve said this hundreds of times. Whether it be because I’m comforting another person or myself. And each time I say it I think of you shortly after. This is probably the greatest lesson you could have ever given me. This is your legacy to me. There are more things I’ve learned from you but this is probably the epitome of what our meeting in this lifetime was about. So I won’t be contacting you ever again. I’ll watch you from a distance and relish in your sunlight like I’ve always done. But this time I won’t act as a shadow slinking jealously around wanting you to fall so I could pick you up. No, I’m rooting for you now. I want to see you succeed and become some amazing doctor who achieves the greatness I know you can/will achieve. I’m no longer seeing you as my enemy, but I will be the comrade that you’ve always deserved. But before this, just before I truly let myself embrace this, there are some things I need you to know.

I think about that last discussion that August before our senior year. Later that evening I took a page out of Hazel Grace’s book (the main character from The Fault in Our Stars if you don’t remember) and I sat around watching America’s Next Top Model while sulking about my life. I was in so much pain after that conversation, and I both hated you and myself for what had occurred. So much so that I was blinded by that hatred when you tried to mend our broken friendship. It took me forever to realize that you honestly were trying those few times. But I think you’ll understand and forgive me for not being receptive. I mean you remember what you said to me, and now that you’ve taken psych classes I’m sure you realized the damage that you did to my mind. I can’t remember the entire conversation, but I do remember several parts and the rough timeline of the call:

1. I had been feeling for some time that you were angry with me, you didn’t seem like you wanted me around that much and I had no real idea why. I wanted to understand so I asked in a few different instances. But this call was the ultimate one, because I finally asked the question: did you even want to be my friend anymore. 2. So I called, and you picked up and I told you how I felt. You told me how you felt and I asked why hadn’t you told me this early on. I don’t really remember your reason and I don’t want to imprint what my thoughts 4 years later are. 4 years is a long ass time to try and remember details that aren’t as vivid as these next ones. 3. I don’t remember how this came up but I remember distinctly that you didn’t want to be around me much anymore because I was always depressed. Me: I have depression, that’s why I’m always depressed You: Yea but so did everyone else, and it’s been 7 years and they all got over it and you didn’t 4. Those words have stuck with me, it made me feel like a broken mess for a very long time. You don’t tell someone with depression that; but you were a kid with no true understanding of how those words would have affected me. Sometimes I wonder if you thought I was making it up. I’m not sure why you said that. I just know it hurt like hell. 5. I think at this point I was sharing how I thought of you, and I know for a fact that after these words flew from my mouth I regretted it so much. But you hurt me just before and I think I was just trying to make you feel the pain I felt. But I said I try to think of you as a monster sometimes so I that I can feel better when I’m next to you. 6. At that point, you told me you no longer wanted to be best friends with someone who thought that of you. And I really don’t blame you.

The conversation ended shortly after that, but that is a memory I will always distinctly remember. But there were a lot of reasons why I felt the way I did and why I was so angry with you at that time and why I was so fucking jealous that sometimes I wish I didn’t even know you. That should have been a red flag right there that maybe I should keep my distance but I had no idea how to control my emotions effectively and respond appropriately at that point. Maybe you felt this. I mean hell there were so many times where you should have left our friendship but you stuck it through. I don’t know how you put up with me. If I had a friend like I was back then to you right now, I would drop them in a heartbeat, because I was an asshole. I was so awful. Even after you ended our friendship I was awful and hell, I thought I was justified 99% of the time. Freshman year of college I literally texted you to tell you that you made me feel like killing myself! Talk about a manipulative asshole, goddamn! I remember that one time our freshman or sophomore year of high school that I had the nerve to ask you to stop writing poetry because that was “my” thing, as if you couldn’t create art. Like, what the hell was that ever about? Why was I so conceited and jealous and hateful? I’ll tell you another thing, kind of a secret that I’ve never really told anyone, I didn’t even think your poetry or your art was that good when we were kids. I was so annoyed all the time when people complimented you, because I thought—nah I knew, I was better than you. And the awards, accolades and compliments that I got proved that to me. That was the only field that I knew I was better than you in, and I wanted it to stay that way. 

I wanted to make sure I that I had something over you because you were literally better than me in everything else. You were 3rd in our class while I was 10th. You began getting scholarships in our junior year and I didn’t. You were SGA president and I was just the community engagement chair. You had so many friends who loved the fuck out of you and always wanted to be around you and I just didn’t. I had your friends, they weren’t “mine.” My friends went to another school and turned out to be people who didn’t do much with their lives. All your friends though? They were over the moon amazing, most still are. You did ballet and you loved it, I was forced to play softball and I hated it. I always wanted to do ballet or dance or something awesome and I never did. You always did what you wanted and if you realized you didn’t like it you didn’t let yourself waste energy with it if you didn’t have to. You had a car and I didn’t. You were allowed to explore your sexuality and quite honestly, I wasn’t. You had a healthy relationship with your first partner and I had a toxic codependent relationship with my partner at the time. People loved you, people adored you, your grades were high, your determination was astounding. Fuck, this sounds extremely awful, but I was even jealous that your ED was as bad as it was for a while and in my mind I didn’t think I was bad enough. Of course I later realized that you had anorexia and I had a totally different ED so that’s why it didn’t look the same.

And you know what’s really really weird? This all manifested in me looking up to you. You were a role model for me, I aspired to be you. But it was fueled by jealousy and hate. I think that’s why I clung so tightly to my partner and the other close friends who I made on my own even though they were so freaking toxic. I finally had people who looked up to me, who wanted to be me, who were jealous of me, who adored me like everyone adored you. 

Ha, when I really think about all of this, fuck I realize how messed up I was. How much pain I felt and how I allowed that to seep deeply into a truly pure and amazing friendship with someone as awesome as you. Sure, you had your flaws and you sometimes would let me see them. But I always looked past that. Surprisingly I didn’t cling to them like I did to your talents and gifts. Again, I was fueled by hate and jealousy of them. So, I guess not that surprising.

Anyway, if you do ever read this, I need you to know that I’m not telling you all this to make you feel guilty or to rethink all the good times in our friendship. Our good times were genuine, I swear to you. I’m never realized my anger until now; until I finally realized why I held onto it for so long. And I held onto it because I wanted to desperately be you. I desperately wanted to be you because you were allowed to be yourself and for the most part you tried to truly be yourself. Every day, you didn’t take life for granted. I wanted that. I wanted to be authentically me, but I didn’t even know who I was because I was so busy trying to be everything everyone wanted me to be. And if I wasn’t doing that then I was trying to be you. Our good times were amazing, the watermelon with the freaking kool-aid sugar on top was a top-notch idea. Playing in the rain just for the hell of it was such a highlight. Sleep overs and ice cream parties. The fact that you planned my entire 16th birthday. All the Halloweens we celebrated together. Just generally hanging out whenever we could. It was awesome. It was amazing. It was a true friendship. So please if you ever read this, don’t think that our good times are lesser now that you also understand the pain and anger and hate I felt at the same time. I swear on my life it was all genuine. I know it was. 

But I write all those things because I want you to know that in some way I understand why we drifted now. And I want you to know that I’m beyond that now, I’m better than that now. I want you to know that I see you now, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you loved me when you loved me. I’m sorry I would choose my partner over you more than I should have. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know this is almost 12 years too late. But better late than never right? Also, in a way I’m writing this as a penance. The world has access to this truth now. They may not know our intimate personal details but they will see who the writer—me—was and how I treated you. This is my punishment, and maybe I deserve something a little more severe but for now this will have to do.

As of now I’m trying to make up for everything by being authentically me. By showing others the love that I should have shown you. It will take a lifetime to make up for this, but it’s a step towards the right direction. I know that I will meet you again in another life time. I don’t think we were meant to separate as soon as we did, but it happened. And this was a lesson that I needed to learn—it’s a lesson that I haven’t stopped learning. 

In finishing, I’m realizing there are so many more things I could say to you. But I don’t think they really need saying. I just want you to know, for any of the bad things I felt you had done (that were genuinely bad) and any of the bad things you felt that you had done I forgive you. We were kids trying to be adults. You did your best. And, honestly, so did I. Our best isn’t always enough, but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying. Goodbye my best friend that got away. Or at least, until next time. Keep doing awesome shit, I’m rooting for you.

Thanks for the lessons, The Best Friend You Should Have Had