#i am working on your requests i can assure you i think abt them daily uwu

[thomine]

i care more to be loved : kaveh

pair: kaveh / reader info: general audiences, consumption of alcohol (mentioned in passing), off-screen kiss scene, nonlinear narrative (numbering system in place to help make sense of time but scenes are intentionally in that order), dysfunctional relationship, canon compliant, angst (with a hopeful ending?), not proofread

summary: you don't believe you found love but you found kaveh. that's close to love, right?

word count: 5.4k links: read on ao3 / work tag notes: um. not i'm not really back from hiatus. yes that's a little women (2019) quote. you may read the author's commentary for more info.

ONE.

There should be a word to describe those like you who withdraw from social gatherings. You don't hate people so you aren't anti-social, and it's not like you don't hang out with others—forming connections is your job. You are the guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. There are just some days you cannot bring yourself to keep up, and today is one of them. While your social circle is partying at Lambard's Tavern, you sneak out of your house into the forest beside Sumeru City with a small container of snacks and some textile. A lonely picnic it will be, but loneliness is not the issue here. Neither is hunger, but you have to keep yourself occupied.

You find a comfortable spot under shade with a beautiful view of the setting sun and lay out a shoddy sheet of straw before placing a mat over it. It's a cloth given to you by your mother after scoring well, although her face when you declared you weren't joining the Akademiya made you feel she regretted getting you anything in the first place. This mat does cost a lot so you keep it pristine to honour her efforts.

The container that keeps your food warm is also a gift, one you bought yourself after years of eyeing it through windows. It is nicer when it is on display, but you don't regret buying it. It is practical and you'll give credit to where its due despite the miscellaneous inconveniences in its design.

Once you've settled in a comfortable spot facing west, you watch as the last light of the day diminishes. This is—what you like to believe—a refuge, but your worries never cease to leave you. You wonder what your friends are doing at the tavern. Probably drinking their life away while jostling and cheering. Having fun. Playing games. Enjoying the atmosphere. Putting their best foot forward.

For love.

Like artists musicians that decorate the streets on festive nights, awaiting tips and change to drop into their hats.

As your brain depressingly quips with itself, you can't hear footsteps from behind. It is only when a shadow covers you that you take note you are not alone, and also realise you have been crying.

"I hope I'm not disturbing?" the uninvited voice asks, gently. When you turn (after wiping your tears as discretely as you can), you meet a blonde man with warm eyes made even warmer with the shine of sunset. He kneels to meet you at eye level as you present your business smile. "I saw your mat and I was wondering where did you get it?"

"Oh, this?" You stand, uncomfortable with his gesture of kneeling to meet your gaze. You wear your shoes and step off the object he's interested in so he has a full view. "It was imported from Inazuma. They sell the finest textiles so I'm not surprised it caught your attention. Want to try sitting on it? Oh, but please take off your sandals."

The man seems to be half-listening as he straightens. You wonder if your eyes are puffy to give away your earlier misery, but other than his intrepid stare directed at you, he's fixed on the mat.

"And how much would it cost? Are you still in contact with the merchant? Wait, before we continue let me introduce myself." He extends his hand for a handshake. "I'm Kaveh, an architect. I'm building a large mansion nearby and will also be in-charge of designing its interior. Such a mat would look wonderful among the furniture I plan to get."

You look around, unsure why you haven't seen any construction. Was it approved or is this guy just lofty? Regardless, you exchange pleasantries. After giving your name, you add, "I'm afraid I do not have the particulars of the merchant. My mother bought this for me"—you hope you don't look constipated—"but we are not in contact so I can't help you trace the mat's source."

"A pity," he says, shoulder slouching. "Sumeru textiles would work but I really like this design."

Again, it's not that you dislike people, but you really want to be alone right now. You look at the mat, memories of a distant past weigh heavy in your throat. It would be nice to say goodbye to it once and for all.

"You can have it." Grabbing the edges, you fold the textile as he gawks. "I don't use it other than as a mat when I'm outside—which isn't frequent. Hearing what you have planned, you'll make better use of it. I'll just get another one."

"But this is from your mother, isn't it? Wouldn't you want to keep it for that reason alone?"

You pass the rolled up mat to him with a lopsided smile. "Oh, it's just a mat to me. Don't worry about it and don't think too much of this. See you."

You then pick up your barely touched food and trudge back home before he can reject your offer.

⠀

⠀

TWO.

You hear someone call your name. It's your name, yes, but still unfamiliar on the tongue of this person. The first thought that comes to you is that it is a client, but clients don't address you by your name. Only your nickname. That's how you differentiate your personal and professional circles. All personal connections eventually mix with your profession, so they handle your name like experts. Vowels and consonants wrapped in a specific tone. This is fairly… friendly.

There was someone you met recently… you try to recall that moment but it doesn't appear until you are face to face with a blonde man with warm eyes.

Ah, Kaveh.

To his luck, you are chirpier than when he last met you. With energy to perform, you smile brightly and greet him, although your pronunciation is off as one would for new names. He doesn't seem to mind though.

"Glad to bump into you," he huffs while leaning over, supporting his upper body with hands on his knees. You let out a small laugh.

"I wouldn't call you running to greet me as bumping into me."

"Don't take it the wrong way, I wasn't stalking you or anything. I just saw you walk down this street and thought I'd say hi."

This man is puzzling. First, he claims to be building something large near where you were seated, and yet with your purview of the land you see not a single construction. Then, he runs towards you just to say hi. Is saying hi to someone you barely know that important?

"Well, um, hello then," you say, extending an arm for an awkward handshake. "How's your project so far?"

"It's…" he clears his throat. "The mat you gave me was perfect. I should really thank you. Should we have a meal together? My treat."

"No need to treat. I just had lunch with my friends. I was heading back, actually."

"Do you stay nearby?"

"Relatively close. What about you?"

"Um, I stay nearby as well."

Something is definitely up with this guy.

"Is there anything else?" you ask as you place your hands on your hips. "I'm sure you're busy yourself."

"Let me treat you at least once. Whenever you're free."

You don't understand why he's so insistent, but it reminds you of desperate clients even more desperate to keep their business afloat. They always have something to offer in hopes it can gain them something of greater value. Not that you are great at weighing these deals, but emotionally, you play this game everyday. Perhaps giving him the mat was a habitual act of the same principle. You hoped giving him the mat will grow something, and this may be your chance to harvest it.

How tiring, but isn't that necessary? Condition and reward. Didn't he say he was building a mansion? You might want someone of such caliber in your books.

"I'll take up that offer for a meal, but you don't have to pay for it." You take out a paper and pen to jot your address. "Tomorrow, dinner? I'll cook."

Once again, before Kaveh can react, you make your leave. You dissolve into the crowded street, wondering what will bloom from this.

⠀

⠀

FIVE.

You still don't know where Kaveh lives after a year, but he surely knows how to make your house like his own. You did not expect to have common interests, and his philosophies intrigue you enough to not be bored. When he doesn't appear on Fridays, you are surprised, but even then you don't push for details or a reason the next time he comes over. His life is his life and yours is yours.

You know he keeps his secrets such as details of the project (which grants him highs and lows, as all things do) while you keep your worries private. To meet him more frequently means nothing, at least that's what you believe.

"What are we?" Kaveh asks one quiet evening as you tear through your dinner. He has become such a staple in your life silence feels comfortable. His question, however, rips the atmosphere like you and your meal. You tongue feels heavy as your mind replay scenes that happened last week. He tried to bring it up once too, but the moment you expressed discomfort, he surrendered. It seems the water in the kettle has finally reached its boiling point.

"What do you mean? What else can we be?"

"Do friends really do what we do?" he probes. You give him a quizzical look, daring him to be clear. "Are you going to deny our kiss last week?"

"You stayed over and we got drunk. That's all that happened." You bite your lips. You had hoped the weekend would mean he would forget everything somehow. "You were lonely. I was lonely. That's all there is to it."

"So the kiss meant nothing." He looks forlorn, slouching in his chair as his legs sprawl under the table, as if he's as exhaled like a flattened balloon. "Why do you do this to me?" he asks, voice wavering. "Are my feelings for you not clear?"

You place your cutlery down and wipe your mouth. You lost your appetite. "I'm not here to discuss this. I'm going to go for a walk."

As you stand, so does Kaveh. He gets up with such force his chair falls back. It is a chair he bought for himself after he ruined yours. Not his fault. The chair was going to give way anyways. This chair, though, is handpicked by him to match whatever miserable mess of furniture you have. It isn't costly, but no one sits on it other than Kaveh.

He walks towards you and grabs your wrist. You flinch but do not pull away.

"You should head back home and sleep too. Maybe you just aren't in the right mind," you mumble. "You did drink yourself dead because of stress so you should rest."

"You kissed me. I can't just wake up next day and pretend everything is fine. You know how I feel about you."

"I already told you I was lonely, okay? Do you really want to be with someone who uses you because you're conveniently here? And it's not like you actually like me either."

"Why do you keep saying that? You don't know how I feel."

"I know. I know the game we play. If I didn't give you the mat that very day I would be a stranger to you even now. If I didn't show you any kindness you would have hated me. Don't you get it Kaveh? This world is based on conditions, and every condition I've set such that you'll like me. I've trapped you like a rat and I let you delude me to believing lies."

"What are you talking about?" Kaveh's voice is as scratchy as sandpaper. It doesn't sit right to see such a a pretty face this distressed. "If you say I'm stressed you must be too. Nothing from your mouth makes sense. Tell me, what's bothering you? We can work it through." He grabs your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. A gesture you've gotten used to—indulgently. He first held your hand like this when you were sick. How comforting it was but now it repulses you, yet not enough to reject his warmth still.

"Kaveh, listen to me. The moment you don't get what you want from me, you're going to walk out of this door. You don't love me. You love the conditions I set. It is like a prey falling for a predator's tricks."

"Then say you don't love me."

You swallow.

"So by your logic the reason you kissed me is because I helped you through your loneliness. Have you wondered maybe you caused it upon yourself? You keep such a distance with your friends, they don't even know about me."

"What are you implying?"

"Maybe you do love me. You can treat me as you do with your friends. Avoid me, isolate yourself, but you invite me even to your pity parties. Can you really say I'm a prey, or am I someone who willingly walked into your den for I know you aren't the predator you believe you are."

"Kaveh, please stop. You don't know me. I'll give you away as quickly as I gave the mat. You do not want to be involved with me."

You jerk your hand out of his grasp. As usual, you leave Kaveh faster than he can react. After your hour trek through the forest you return to an empty house with an empty heart.

Pity party? Pft. You definitely don't host pity parties. The moments you choose to be away from your friends are moments you regain your energy to fight the world. It is difficult to keep having to present yourself as lovable. To have someone like Kaveh accompany you through these times means nothing.

It doesn't mean anything.

⠀

⠀

SIX.

You were right. Kaveh doesn't return the next Friday, or the Friday after that. As if you've unplugged a lifeline, he doesn't exist. You don't even see him around the streets he normally hangs around.

"You seem upset," a friend of yours say. She is the owner of a small cafe situated in the bazaar. A friend from your youth you know you have to maintain good relations with. Her coffee isn't to your liking but they have won awards. In fact, brewing coffee is not her only strength. She is good at gathering intel.

"Am I?" you force a laugh. "Must be the lack of sleep. Work has been piling up as of late."

She sips her tea as you observe the stillness of yours. Rich brown liquid. Warm to touch. Memories of Kaveh's hands wrapped around yours ignite your chest with sorrow. You swallow it with your drink.

"I heard that you seldom visit the bazaar to buy dinner," your friend inquires. Of course she will turn her tricks to you. "I'm not saying you can't get your food anywhere else, but I do recall you recommending Jut's dishes. Fast and delicious for anyone working over time."

"Have you met him? I told him of your recently opened store and he said he would drop by. Wouldn't it be cool if there was a collaboration between the two of you?"

"You know when to find a business opportunity when you see one. As expected for someone who scored well in the exams."

"You just like to flatter people, don't you? You scored even higher. My mum never shut ups about it, and I believe she'll still bring it up even now."

"But my networks aren't as wide. You truly know how to rope people with that smile of yours. Not to mention you're always too kind for your own good. Thanks for the free sponsor, by the way."

You ease a laugh, glad to have the topic changed. "Oh don't mention it. It was a discounted deal anyways." You finish your drink and decide it is time to leave, but your friend's next words hold you prisoner.

"I was wondering if you've heard of Kaveh?"

"…What about him?"

"So you do know him."

"Bumped into him once. Said he was working on a big mansion in the forest. What about him? Are you going to ask if I can help you connect with him?"

"Not really. Not professionally at least. I think he's charming… he stopped by my store once"—of course, because you told him to give her stall a try—"and was so nice. He's so pretty, don't you agree?"

You pull your head back as you force a laugh so she can't see the way your eyes wrinkle with remorse.

"If I can get in contact with him, I'll let you know. I have to go first though." You gesture to your finished drink. "Thanks for the drink."

She stands with you and edges close with arms open. You lean to give her a hug. Before she can remember to ask for anything more, you're out of the bazaar.

⠀

⠀

THREE.

You truly are a person with no qualifications other than a disappointed mother and an award-winning smile. You put on masks and play pretend, trying to inflate your credentials so others will believe you are lovable. You can be loved. You will be loved.

But what if you're just a singular person who stares at sunset with a container of home made food while you let your thoughts powered by self-deprecating rot and doubt to run wild? Will you still be lovable then? It is a question that grips you even more than death itself.

You are a beggar at the mercy of those that pass by. Your hands empty and shivering. Love me, you cry. What I give is the feeling of superiority. The feeling that you're doing something good. In return I want you to love me.

Can you really say, then, that someone will love you for who you are? Would there not be this underlying feeling that they chose you out of pity?

You know people will be at your funeral, but will it be for you?

"So you were crying the day I met you," Kaveh says as he appears from behind. You have invited him to join your picnic, but he's late and your thoughts have grown to be a beast that demands your tears. "Sorry, that's not a good entrance. I didn't mean to be a busybody."

You wipe your wet eyes, uncaring of being discrete as you have been caught. Kaveh brought along more food. He unpacks them on your new plain mat.

"No, I'm thankful you didn't say anything that day," you note. "I don't think I wanted you to point it out. Would have ruined my mood even more."

Kaveh takes the spot you've prepared for him, leaning on his hand positioned behind to get a good view of the sky. He's still a stranger—in some sense—but a very welcoming one at that. There is something about the way he treats you that makes you feel you can trust him with your secrets. Not that you will share it with him. He's only come over for dinner the past month. Your friendship with him is developing faster than you'd like, but when he does things like randomly send you letters because something reminded him of the conversation over dinner or when he buys your favourite ice cream because it was on sale and he remembered you, it's hard not to grow fond of him.

In your area of business you should return such gestures, but he somehow makes himself indebted to you. You've never have the scale balanced when it comes to him. Perhaps inviting him into your private moment is your attempt at leveling what he skewed. Maybe this is part of his greater plan—he'll count these blessings as a means to an end, but for once, you aren't doing business. It never feels like it with him.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" he asks after a moment of silence. You shake your head. "Fair enough. Sitting down to watch the sunset is already easing my own stress."

"You really didn't have to do all of this, by the way," you motion at the food he bought and laid out. So much for trying to make things even. "I told you I was going to cook."

"But it's to celebrate!"

"Celebrate?"

"To us being friends. You've helped me so much and now you're inviting me to a picnic? Surely this means we're getting closer. Plus, look over there." He points to something in the distance. You move closer to him to see his line of view and notice bright colours poking from the canopy of the forest. "That's my project and we've finally started construction. Surely this is a moment to celebrate."

"I'm really happy for you."

You lean your head against his shoulder briefly, like a nudge. The smile on your face is small, but it's sincere.

⠀

⠀

FOUR.

Kaveh is acting strange. He is outside the door but he has yet to knock. He's mumbling things to himself and you feel tempted to open it just to scare him as a lesson to not talk to himself outside your door, but you've yet to clean the living room. He comes in like a storm and places his things everywhere. It's not that you mind though. It's just embarrassing to have him know you keep the house as he left it as evidence that you aren't alone.

Finally, his long-anticipated knock comes. You yell for him to wait as you finish the final touches and swiftly open the door. Tonight, you cooked The Endeavour in hopes to rival the one he made for you last week. It is an intricate piece of art disguised as the dish Fatteh. Only he can come up with something as extravagant as that, so you're not trying to beat him in presentation but taste.

You open the door, anticipation bursting in your eyes.

"You won't believe what I—"

"I love you and I—"

You blink, staring blanking at your favourite flowers covering your view. When you push it down to see Kaveh, his face is flushed. His eyes avoid you, and he seems to have regretted saying anything at all with the way he bites his lips.

"Did I ruin it?" he mumbles, free hand covering his face as the other pushes the bouquet into your arms, as if to say he wants you to carry the embarrassment away. "Was this bad timing?"

You gingerly take the bouquet and usher him in before he decides to run away.

"Let's… have dinner first."

You place the bouquet on the table in the living room as you bring out dinner.

"What was it you wanted to say?" Kaveh fidgets with his hands, voice strained with worry. "You sounded really excited."

"It's this," you say with less enthusiasm than you expected. "I loved what you brought me last week and I wanted to try making it too. It can't rival your presentation, but I hope it's edible."

"It's lovely." The compliment doesn't reach his eyes. Not that he doesn't believe what he's saying. They're just busy with other emotions as they intrusively search your expression. You try to keep it normal.

"Dig in," you chirp, pointing towards the dish that, when you think about it, is a poor rendition of what Kaveh gave you. "Let me know what you think."

He takes a bite and slowly the conversation buries his confession. You're back to laughing while he's rambling. The bouquet of flowers sits on the table without water—withering, if you may put it—while you and Kaveh's relationship continues to grow.

That night, you lay in bed wondering what his words mean.

What have you done?

⠀

⠀

SEVEN.

"The Palace of Alcazarzaray has been destroyed by the withering." News headline reads in bold. You stare at the paper, wondering why the name of the mansion rings a bell. You read on and you gasp when you see his name.

"…the architect, Kaveh…"

Your eyes dig into the words to extract every piece of information you can. Although he never told you the details of the project, it was undeniable how much passion and love he had for it. Talking about the project was always a gateway for him to share about his past, present, and even future. He told you of his time at the Akademiya, his parents, his dreams and aspirations. To have this project fail broke your heart knowing his has been broken.

Is that the reason he has been avoiding you? Was that the reason he arrived at your house multiple times looking worse than before? The reason he drank so much that night which you half-joked was because of the project really was the reason. Your kiss must have caused his mind to enter a flurry that pulled him under.

What have you done?

They say love does not make you think straight. Can you blame it on love or is this solely your selfish doing?

You don't wait for the answer as you scramble out of your door after grabbing your essentials. You have to find Kaveh, figure out how much he owns and how he's doing. You have to help him in one way or another if not who knows what will happen to him—

But you don't find him. He finds you instead. He's a few meters away from your door, approaching you with bloodshot eyes. You sigh, an act of relief but also concern, as you walk towards him.

"It's been long," you say after greeting him, unable to meet him in the eye. "I heard about the project. I want to help."

"No."

"What?" You raise your head and look at him, dumbfounded. "Why not? If you need money, I have some."

"I know you'll say that, but I cannot accept it."

"Why not? I don't want to see you"—you gesture towards all of him—"like this." For someone who tries to keep himself well kept, he is disheveled beyond recognition. Hair a mess, attire robbed to a plain t-shirt and pants that cover him decently. He looks pathetic, like a beggar, and who loves to see someone in such a state? Saviour complex or not, you know you can help him, and you will. "Come inside. Let's discuss it there. You look famished. I'll cook up something for you and—"

He calls your name. You still remember the first time he reached out to you on that busy street. How different your personal name was on his tongue compared to others. That friendliness has never left. In fact, it grew fonder over time. You should have noticed his feelings before he announced it, but maybe you were hoping it wasn't true. Now, he says your name dripping in tenderness and you want to scream.

Don't do this to me, you think as you drag him in your house regardless. I don't need you to remind me of your feelings. Of how I hurt you.

Once the door closes, as you're about to leave to prepare him a warm cup of coffee, he grabs your hand.

"I'm here to let you know I'm not accepting any help from you, and my feelings will remain."

"You're crazy. What are you going to—"

"You said that I only like you for your kindness, for the things you did. I'm here to let you know even if you don't show me an inch of kindness, I'll still love you."

"You shouldn't do that. That's stupid. That's illogical—"

"But it's your logic." He leans closer, almost putting his entire body weight on you. It is at this proximity you smell the faint scent of alcohol. "If I can't prove it to you with my logic then I'll have to use yours."

"You're not thinking straight. Look, Kaveh, remember the great girl who runs a coffee shop in the bazaar? She wants to meet you. She can make better coffee than me, is more beautiful and smarter. Her business is expected to skyrocket after marketing and maybe you can get your funds from her too. You'll find better, more amazing people. You shouldn't waste your time trying to prove to me that you like me. You don't even have to prove to yourself you like me."

Kaveh stays quiet. He stops moving too. You would think he is dead but you've handled a drunk Kaveh more often that you'd like to admit. Thankful he stopped his thrashing. You drag him onto the sofa and begin making preparations for when he wakes. Medicine, food, maybe some contract for him to be your roommate.

However, when he wakes, he is even more adamant on his stance, and more logical to argue for it too.

At least he drinks your coffee and eats the meal you prepared for him: a simple bowl of cream soup. He devours it almost in an instant, and you wonder how long he's not eaten. Given his new skinnier frame, you're betting at least a full day.

"I'll make seconds." You take his bowl and turn to head to the kitchen but he denies you once again by grabbing your arm. You hate how difficult it is to shake him away. You hate how a part of you is happy he wants you to stay.

"That's enough. I am not a baby. You of all people should know this."

"Yes, but in your current state? I wouldn't say so."

He releases his grip and you return to your seat. He sits upright on the sofa, a good distance away from the flowers he bought for you now kept in a small vase.

"I know you're worried about me," he starts as he rests his hands on his thigh and looks at the floor.

"Yes, it isn't a very nice situation to be in." And I probably made it worse.

"But I have a plan. The overseers of this project will not abandon it, and I sold my house but I met up with Alhaitham who I will live with in the mean time."

"See? You never know when you'll need to pull strings with people you dislike."

"I don't dislike him. At least, him as a person. Just his views of others."

You chuckle. "Same thing, isn't it? What is a person without their views? Their passions? Their aspirations? That's who they are."

"Their flaws as well." He looks at you, warm eyes intense like a burning flame. You shy away from his gaze. "Thank you for your help," he clears his throat, probably embarrassed he fell on you like that while drunk. It's not the first, and you hope it's not the last.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

"It's fine. I will deal with it myself and I'll show you what I mean."

Another question sits on your tongue. Will you continue to ignore me and only come to me during your drunken stupors?

But he beats you to it.

"I know this is a silly question, but why do you want to help me so badly? If you believe I was lured by your kindness, then why continue being kind to me?"

"I don't deny I'm selfish," you start as you look at the floor, tucking your feet closer to your body. "I do kind things so people are tethered to me. I don't want you to leave."

You give him a side glance, expecting some sort of disgust or distaste, but instead he looks solemn yet shocked. It's better than being judged or disgusted.

"I'm sorry, Kaveh," you whisper. "I don't think I'll ever love you the way you want me to. I don't know how that works."

"Then that's even more reason to not accept your help. I won't give up."

Silence except the ticking clock in your room. This time it's unnerving, but not in a bad way. You are aware of your breathing—chest rising up and down—while your heart rate quickens as heat gathers at your face. When did he have such an effect on you?

"Visit me even if you're in a pitiful, sorry state. Even if it's unbearable to see you the way you are right now. And even after that, when you've got your bearings, I still want to have dinner with you."

"I will be back," Kaveh announces as he stands. He smiles, satisfied.

author's note: as always thank you for making it until the end. this story came to me in a whirlwind of inspiration. whether you agree with reader's point of view or not, i do hope you come to realise that love, as tricky as it is, is also fairly simple because it is everywhere around us. it may not come in the form that we want but we shape the love we receive with our hands by changing ourselves. stay strong fellas (i am loosing my brain cells as we speak).

[amortm]

      *  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒  𝐔𝐏  ,  pretty  kitties  !   i'm  terribly  sorry  abt  my  absence  on  the  dash  alongside  you  angels  ,  &  trust  that  i’m  fully  embarrassed  of  my  slow  ass  ,  but  i  finally  typed  this  baby  out  ,  &  i  can’t  wait  for  y’all  to  meet  my  love  ,  𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔  !

*  ╰   it’s  an  absolute  dishonour  to  meet  you ,   julianna  /  jules  .  at   twenty - one  ,  you’ve  disgraced  the   peralta   family  name  &  failed  to  carry  on  their  legacy  as  an  elite  .  as  a  result  ,  they’ve  requested  that  we  at  the  academy  do  our  best  to  rid  you  of  your  venality  ,  & seeing  as  though  they’re  worth  86m  ,  we  dutifully  obliged  .  while  your   pleonastic  &  inexorable  attributes  have  always  promised  failure  ,  it’s  your  spar  with   pride  &  ghosting  your  breakout  acting  role  after  you  found  out  your  daddy  secured  it  for  you   that  got  you  committed  .  before  we  take  possession  of  you  ,  it’s  imperative  that  we  know  that  you  are  a   cisfem  who  prefers   she  &  her  pronouns  ,  &  you  resemble   diana  silvers  .  your  birthday  is  on   april  26th  ,  making  you  a  recalcitrant  taurus  ,  &  you  were  transported  to  us  all  the  way  from   vail  ,  co  .  at  the  present  time  ,  you  work  off  campus  at   seaside  florist  .  go  ahead  &  purchase  that  extra  large  suitcase  ,  disgrace  .  you’re  going  to  need  it . 

your  name  /  age  /  pronouns  /  timezone  /  etc  .

hiya  loves  !   i  go  by  blue  &  she  /  her  pronouns  ,   i’m  9teen  ,   &  i’m  a  pst  baby  !   i’m  one  of  the  six  lovely  admins  @  #unholy  ,   &  they’re  all  superstars  ,   so  imagine  my  daily  awe  !   anyway  ,   i’m  beyond  excited  to  finally  get  the  ball  rolling  ,   &  share  the  dash  with  you  babes  !

 muse  inspo  .

noora  sætre  ,   the  goldfinch  ,   ella  of  frell  ,   neil  perry  ,   charlie  dalton  ,   claire  saffitz  ,   monica  geller  ,   carla  lalli  music  ,   mia  thermopolis  ,   adam  parrish  ,   blue  sargent  ,   anna  ou  !

 character  details  :

    💐 :   sweetly  judgmental  ,  adoringly  vindictive   /   vindictively  adoring  ,   witty  ‘n  gritty  ,   bitingly  tender  ,   expressively  stubborn  ,   softly  feral  !

    😈 :   hershey’s  chocolate  ,   brooklyn  pizza  ,   baguettes  ,   collector  edition  copies  of  wuthering  heights  ,   selfies  ,   her  mom  ,   richard  siken  anthologies  ,   twilight  (  #teamedward  )  ,   crowded  movie  theaters  ,   english  gardens  ,   the  air  in  new  york  ,   the  air  in  vail  ,   snowboarding  ,   her  hair  ,   hot  chocolate  (  no  whipped  cream  ,   half  a  bag  of  mini  marshmallows  dumped  atop  )  ,   andrew  garfield  ,   her  discover  weekly  playlist  ,   german  shepherds  ,   harry  potter  ,   lord  of  the  rings  ,   comedies  ,   horror  movies ,   nude  lipstick  ,   chocolate  chip  toffee  cookies  with  sea  salt  drizzled  on  top  ,   mamma  mia  franchise  ,   dissertations  ,   driving  ,   any  typa  jacket  /  coat  ,   being  the  big  spoon  ,   her  father  ,   coca  cola  ,   lilies  ,   disney  t - shirts  ,   her  father’s  films  ,   take  out  ,   farms  ,   italy  (  every  single  crevice  of  it  )  ,   the  plaza  hotel  ,   mint  chip  ice  cream  ,   hats  ,   trains ,   monthly  horoscopes  ,  ancient  history  ,   greenwich  village  ,   maggie  rogers  ,   mating  ritual  ,   vampire  weekend  ,   mitski  ,   the  wombats  ,   magic  bronson  ,   jade  bird  ,   hockey  ,   pretending  to  be  a  fairy / witch  /  mermaid  as  a  child  ,   naruto  ,   avatar  the  last  airbender  ,   stepping  over  state  /  country  lines  ,   hot  water  with  honey  ,   amazon  prime  !

    👿 :   the  marvel  franchise  except  for  the  captain  america  &  thor  trilogies  ,   coffee  &  tea  ,   shorts  ,   sweet  potatoes  ,   layovers  of  any  length  ,   socks  ,   soy  milk  ,   her  arms  ,   chihuahuas  ,   a  song  of  fire  &  ice  novels  ,   super  fudgy  /  rich  cake  &  brownies  ,   cooking  for  herself  ,   being  told  what  to  do  ,   being  wrong  &  having  everyone  know  it  ,   people  who  are  rude  to  employees  ,   bad  tipping  ,   margaret  atwood  ,   her  first  grade  teacher  ,   plastic  coke  bottles  ,   too  much  pepper  in  a  dish  !

 upbringing  &  family  life  ,  life  before  the  academy  ,  etc  .

     julianna  rachel  peralta  was  born  to  a  beauty  -  charmed  family  of  three  ,   with  a  new  yorker  mother  &  italian  father  birthing  the  healthiest  &  happiest  girl  parents  can  dream  for  .    her  mother  ,  susanna  ‘ susie ’  peters  ,   was  coined  the  model  that  pioneered  90′s  fashion  ,  a  la  kate  moss  ,   &  met  julianna’s  father  ,   elio  peralta   (  think  the  francis  ford  coppola  of  this  verse  )  ,   whilst  she  was  briefly  on  set  for  jack  to  see  friend  fran  drescher  .    their  love  stemmed  from  there  ,   after  she  made  a  mocking  comment  &  he  overhead  &  mocked  her  in  return  for  it  ,   &  the  whirlwind  romance  that  captivated  their  world  for  the  next  few  years  led  to  miss  jules  being  born  .    neither  of  her  parents  desired  marriage  from  each  other  ,   rather  believing  that  their  love  knew  no  bounds  ,   even  those  of  matrimony  ,   but  never  did  it  dim  the  bond  held  between  the  small  family  of  three  .    once  jules  was  in  their  arms  ,   they  relocated  from  new  york  to  colorado  ,   into  the  quaint  town  of  vail  ,   surrounded  by  pristine  mountains  &  crystalline  air  ,   where  susie  &  elio  found  a  pocket  of  indisputable  peace  after  a  small  winter  trip  in  their  first  year  of  romance  .

        it  was  there  that  jules  grew  up  ,   &  there  that  the  love  of  her  parents  faltered  .    her  mother  missed  the  world  of  fashion  ,   the  rhythms  &  rhymes  of  the  space  she  knew  as  well  as  in  maintaining  the  fame  that  spotlighted  her  so  ,   while  elio’s  passions  for  turning  out  film  after  film  dwindled  .    &  when  the  offer  from  vogue  came  in  ,   waxing  poetic  about  a  fresh  position  as  a  fashion  editor  ,   both  she  &  elio  knew  that  their  paths  would  veer  .    their  love  was  no  less  ,   but  integral  factors  of  their  relationship  were  now  fractured  ,   &  they  each  desired  after  different  things  .    this  was  all  said  to  julianna  ,   in  soft  tones  &  with  assuring  words  .    yet  ,   never  was  it  promised  that  everything  would  be  the  same  as  it  was  ,   for  the  truth  was  in  something  unsaid  .    susie  moved  to  new  york  ,   while  elio  &  jules  stayed  in  that  mansion  in  the  mountains  ,   &  all  was  as  fair  &  well  as  it  could  be  ,   with  julianna  staying  with  her  mom  during  the  fall  season  &  discovering  every  little  piece  of  italy  in  the  summers  .    christmases  &  hanukkahs  were  always  shared  in  vail  ,   &  susie  tagged  along  european  dives  when  her  schedule  allowed  for  it  .    it  was  as  if  their  relationship  &  subsequent  uncoupling  were  trivial  details  no  one  could  bother  to  account  for  ,  until  ,   in  the  worst  spot  she’s  ever  seen  her  mother  ,   it  came  out  that  elio  peralta  found  a  new  woman  to  share  a  life  with  ,   &  that  their  new  life  together  would  be  housed  in  the  same  home  that  susie  &  elio  specially  chose  &  ,   in  emotional  terms  ,  truly  built  themselves  &  carved  their  family  in  its  foundations  .    it  was  a  betrayal  of  the  deepest  caliber  ,   &  from  there  the  small  peace  that  still  was  at  the  core  of  their  little  family  was  forever  severed  ,   &  it  became  obvious  to  jules  that  those  few  years  were  lucky  .

     she  was  thirteen  when  famed  actress  lily  taylor  (  aka  jennifer  connely  lmao  )  moved  into  her  family  home  ,   bringing  her  adopted  eleven - year - old  twins  with  her  .    in  a  sense  of  loyalty  to  her  mother  &  her  own  hurt  over  the  despair  that  her  father  caused  their  original  trio  ,   jules  was  heartily  &  positively  prepared  to  hate  the  new  additions  to  her  family  with  a  vindictive  fidelity  .    her  plan  was  promptly  overturned  ,   however  ,   when  she  spent  day  upon  day  with  her  new  fam  &  steadily  allowed  them  into  her  heart  .    this  ,   of  course  ,   was  paired  with  doubtless  guilt  ,   spurred  on  by  her  own  mind  whenever  she  flew  to  nyc  to  see  her  mother  ,   but  soon  enough  this  was  caught  by  each  of  her  parents  ,   &  susie  was  insistent  in  her  assurance  that  whatever  frigidness  she  still  held  for  elio  &  his  new  beau   (  which  julianna  didn’t  bother  to  correct  with  wife  )   ,   it  in  no  way  extends  nor  should  be  mimicked  by  her  .    elio  ,   in  turn  ,   was  quick  to  promise  to  jules  that  his  love  for  her  mother  flamed  in  his  heart  to  this  day  ,   but  each  of  them  are  happier  living  their  lives  in  the  lifestyles  they’ve  chosen  ,   with  the  people  they’ve  chosen  .    

      there  really  wasn’t  anything  to  do  but  swallow  their  words  ,   &  live  by  the  sentiments  they  expressed  .   jules  was  both  a  mama’s  &  daddy’s  girl  in  one  ,   so  to  take  their  words  as  fact  was  an  ignorance  she  allowed  herself  ,   even  when  the  hurt  look  on  her  mother’s  faced  inevitably  shone  through  in  hidden  moments  .

     but  when  jules  turned  seventeen  ,   susie  fell  in  love  with  a  musician  /  designer  named  tommy  lever  she  met  while  interviewing  his  collection  for  vogue  ,  &  the  two  fell  deep  ,  far  enough  to  sway  susie  into  moving  to  brazil  during  the  spring  season  ,  away  from  her  beloved  manhattan  loft  ,  to  be  with  him  in  his  home  (  the  link  is  crucial  to  his  characterization  lmao  ,  as  lenny  kravitz  is  essentially  tommy  lever  )  .   when  she  can  ,  jules  visits  as  often  as  she’s  allowed  (  always  )  &  has  gained  a  room  herself  .

      after  that  ,   however  ,   the  cycle  between  her  various  homes  continued  ,   well  into  her  slipping  teendom  ,   &  when  the  prospect  of  college  crunched  down  on  her  ,   the choice  seemed  inevitable  .   nyu  gained  a  classics  &  theater  major  for  its  class  of  2019  (  she  skipped  the  third  grade  ,  a  fact  she  didn’t  stop  bragging  about  at  that  age  )  ,   but  in  her  senior  year  of  university  ,   the  walls  came  crashing  down  .

 what  sin  are  they  categorized  under  ?  why ?

jules  belongs  to  the  sin  of  #pride  through  &  through  .   after  all  ,   if  there  was  one  damning  trait  to  send  her  straight  into  the  pits  of  burning  infernos  ,  her  prideful  sense  of  self  would  be  it  .   that’s  not  to  say  she’s  arrogant  (  nor  am  i  saying  she  isn’t  )  ,  but  it’s  more  that  she  can’t  take  being  undermined  or  allow  the  supposed  undermining  to  go  unpunished  .   she  has  a  great  deal  of  #pride  in  her  own  self  worth  &  capabilities  ,  though  she’s  usually  loathe  to  make  it  known  in  plain  terms  ,  &  if  she  feels  attacked  in  that  manner  ,  she’ll  completely  close  up  .   this  often  ,  as  you’ll  surely  be  able  to  tell  ,   beckons  problematic  shit  .

 what  got  them  sent  to  the  academy  ?

      during  jules’  senior  year  at  nyu  ,  she  was  contacted  by  her  agent  (  shared  with  her  father  )  &  offered  an  audition  for  a  leading  role  in  a  major  hollywood  studio  film  .   throughout  the  years  ,  she  dabbled  in  theater  &  attracted  a  starring  role  or  two  along  the  way  ,  especially  in  school  productions  ,   but  the  plan  for  success  was  always  envisioned  after  college  .   when  she  got  the  call  ,  however  ,  she  handled  it  with  a  happy - go - lucky  fuck  it  sort  of  approach  ,  &  a  week  later  ,  when  she  received  the  good - bearing  call  ,  there  was  no  backing  out  ,  or  so  she  thought  .   tentatively  dropping  out  of  the  semester  in  which  she  would  graduate  ,  jules  modeled  the  next  few  months  of  her  life  around  the  film  ,  happily  doing  so  .   

      yet  ,  the  first  week  into  rehearsals  brought  down  a  cloud  so  dark  she  thought  she’d  choke  under  it  .   she  overheard  a  few  producers  on  their  lunch  break  ,  talking  about  this - & - that - esque  bullshit  ,  but  just  as  she  was  passing  ,  one  of  them  made  a  comment  about  the  peralta  girl  ,  &  how  hollywood  legacies  are  the  roaches  of  the  industry  .   how  directors  from  the  middle  ages  should  just  stick  to  ruining  things  behind  the  camera  ,  not  forcing  a  disaster  in  front  of  it  .   

      that  day  ,  jules  walked  out  of  set  &  never  took  a  step  back  in  .   effectively  ruining  her  future  career  in  the  process  ,  she  ghosted  all  contact  from  the  production  &  even  went  as  far  to  jet  off  to  brazil  to  regenerate  with  her  mom  as  an  escape  .   she  couldn’t  even  pick  up  where  she  left  off  during  the  semester  ,  &  simply  had  to  sit  back  &  witness  her  classmates  of  four  years  graduate  without  her  .   her  parents  were  furious  ,  but  the  only  thing  she  gave  in  return  was  a  steely  silence  ,  refusing  even  turn  a  glare  to  her  father  .   now  ,  she’s  been  shoved  into  the  hands  of  the  academy  ,  biding  the  days  until  she  could  return  to  nyu  in  the  fall  .  

what  do  you  think  they’ll  struggle  with  the  most  at  the  academy ?

tbh  ,  the  biggest  issue  for  jules  is  the  resentment  curling  at  her  core  .   at  her  father  ,  the  film  ,  the  academy  ,  herself  .   right  now  she’s  just  in  a  foul  mood  &  sick  at  being  forced  into  glitterati  rehab  ,  but  her  #pride  won’t  allow  her  to  fail  ,  even  if  she  wishes  to  do  it  just  to  spite  everyone  .   she  is  a  people  person  ,  however  ,  &  will almost  definitely  warm  up  ,  even  if  it’s  just  for  appearances  sake  .

extra  details  :  links  you’d  like  to  incorporate  ,  wanted  connections  ,  literally anything  else  you  want  to  include  ,  etc  .

wanted  connections  will  be  coming  soon  !   for  now  ,  please  enjoy  this  authentic  video  of  jules  chillin  in  her  fav  corner  of  the  world  ,  aka  italia  ,  taken  by  her  bff  eli  😔✌️