Compare Me Not To Stars @astrid-hayes - Tumblr Blog

So, I’ve admittedly been a bit absent lately because when I’m not at work, I’ve been living in the beautiful world of ‘Anne with an E’ on Netflix. If you haven’t watched it, I suggest you do it RIGHT. NOW.

I should be on to do replies tomorrow! :)

#calderwoodooc

arizonajonesx‌:

“Since you are already on a cleanse, why don’t you just keep going?” She asked, shrugging. “I know nothing can the taste of burrito but considering all that grease and what that would do to your body, I say stick to the juice.” Arizona chuckled. “You can do it.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive angel,” Astrid smiled fondly. Ari really was too good for this world... “I would rather scoop my eyes out with a rusty spork than actually go on a juice cleanse. This is my personality with a full stomach. Imagine how insufferable I’d be if I were constantly hangry...”

#c: arizona jones #//i thought about having astrid say 'you beautiful tropical fish' because she is basically leslie knope but that felt too on the nose :)#I'm assuming that they're friends!#astrid adopts lost souls #and tries to be helpful/nurturing but on the negative side can come off as patronizing...#gore tw #food tw

alexisattwater‌:

Alexis paused, pinky finger poised in the sky, teeth already parted in anticipation of a hefty first bite of her impossible burger. As a fitness instructor, people tended to expect Alexis to have all the answers when it came to their meal prepping. Apparently, no one knew the difference between athletic and dietitian. She had, as a result, gotten very good at slipping into class at the precise moment the minute hand struck begin, and even better at scrambling out precisely half an hour later.

It was refreshing to be around someone fucking sane for a change. Someone who wouldn’t judge her when a hefty glob of mayonnaise plopped from between the two garlic buns in her hands and onto the table, even as she judged herself.

“Flatbread pizza with a gluten free crust.” Alexis finally relished in the first bite of her burger, all but rolling her eyes into the back of her head as another glob of mayonnaise hit her taste buds. She flung it all to one side of her mouth and held a fist to her lips as she prepared to talk again. “Extra cheese for the grease, but at least it’ll digest. Sort of.”

Astrid had a problem with her defiant impulse, and even the pretense of denying herself was enough to make her want to rebel horribly. Sure, the restrictions were entirely self-imposed, and all part of a harebrained scheme fueled by stubbornness alone, but the only reason people even put stock in her charade was because society had dictated that she was precisely the kind of ‘basic white girl’ who would engage in such rituals. And that, quite frankly, was utter bullshit...

Astrid squinted, making as though she were deliberating the merits of the suggestion quite seriously. “You almost lost me at gluten-free, but you made up for it with extra cheese...” ‘Gluten-free’ at least sounded like restraint, and would make it harder for people to hold it against her. “I’m sold. That’s what I’ll have,” she decided. “Although you are making that burger look damn good...”

#c: alexis attwater #//and i love alexis!!!#so yay!!

dianaxpalmer‌:

“There’s no way that’s good for you, babe.” The warning quickly followed by a grin spreading across her face, “But I’m always down for pizza. Where are we going?”

As far as Astrid was concerned, liquid diets were what wasn’t good for her. Who could possibly survive without meat and cheese? And sugar, honestly - though that was just personal preference. “I’m thinking Vino’s... I forgot to add wine to the list of things I need, but obviously that’s just a given,” she shrugged teasingly.

#c: diana palmer

Tumblr’s pooping out on me, so I’ll catch up on the rest of my replies tomorrow! 😘😘😘

#calderwoodooc

reganisms‌:

“Juice cleanses are wildly overrated,” Regan responded. Although she wasn’t in a habit of interjecting her opinion to most strangers, she held a strong opinion on this particular subject.

“Precisely,” Astrid nodded. “Which is why I’m only saying I’m on one. Like, if you think I’m going to pay $15 for some faux-holistic corporate entity to give me a bottle of vegetable baby barf, you are seriously deluded...” (Here’s hoping her boss was one such person.)

#c: Regan Adamopolous #//aw - you're the sweetest!#I love Regan too!!

antiquatus‌:

“TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SPOKEN,” William replied easily, the smile never slipping off his face. “I’ll mark it down as a celebration then, just between you and me.” He leaned forward and whispered, “So don’t act too surprised when they bring out a slice of the cake of the day when you’re near finishing… which I believe happens to be coffee cake, so if you don’t like that then I can always try to, ahem, move things around.” He straightened his back and started leading her to a vacant table, pulling up a chair so that she can sit down. An employee of his handed him a menu, which he then easily handed over to her. “Would you need help choosing or—?” He let the question hand. Sometimes customers came in who knew exactly what they wanted and grew irritated at his style of… well, meddling, he supposed the word was, but he much preferred the term quality assurance.

Astrid, as a rule, never trusted charming men. And under different circumstances, this man might even have her running for the hills. But luckily he had context on his side; there was no denying that he was a natural salesman, and given that alcohol was involved, Astrid was definitely buying. (Though she couldn’t help but wonder: why he this formal all the damn time?) “Definitely need your suggestions. Treat me like a dumb baby with a... moderate budget.”

#c: William Pulitzer #//look - I love William but Astrid's kinda a butthole...#and is she going to say progressively more outrageous things trying to fluster him? you bet your ass!

“As far as Instagram is concerned, I’m currently on a juice cleanse, but if I don’t get a burrito or a pizza or something full of grease and cheese in the next hour, I don’t think I can be held accountable for my actions anymore…”

#calderwoodstarter #//assume connections! Astrid's been here for 9 years now #ladies especially are welcome to assume they are part of her girl squad :)

dianaxpalmer‌:

Diana had taken up running a few weeks ago on her therapist’s suggestion. They had said it was a safer coping mechanism than a series of one-night stands, but so far… She wasn’t sold. The trail running down to the beach went right past her backyard, though, so it was relatively easy to get on it and jog for a while until she reached the sand.

The big problem was she hadn’t done a lot of exercise since high school. 10 years ago.

Now that school was out and most of her days were free, except for the odd professional development seminar, she decided to try running as soon as she got up. It was only about nine, but the sun was out in full force and it was h o t. It was only half a mile to the beach but she barely made it, folding over as soon as her sneakers hit the sand. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make it back.”

Astrid hated running as an exercise. She didn’t see a purpose to it - running just for running’s sake. Running was meant to be towards something or from something. Otherwise it was stupid. And pointless…

But Diana had invited her, and she supposed it would look good for the Instagram - very ‘inspired white girl dedicated to her health and to nature,’ especially with the right hashtags - so she’d agreed. And regretted it immediately... “Quick, take a picture with me,” Astrid said, determined to get at least one good thing out of this awful experience. “Then we can blow off the second half of this and go get waffles instead...”

#c: diana palmer #//okay - so Astrid is this pretty uptight super reckless war correspondent #but her editor has benched her after too many close calls so Astrid is pretending to be 'white girl woke' online #to convince her editor she's changed her ways...

vhsmeme

* interview the muse

lachlan-peters-archive

vhsmeme‌:

‘ do you miss anyone? ’

‘ how are you doing? ’

‘ do you believe in ghosts? ’

‘ what makes you laugh? ’

‘ list your top three bands or singers. ’

‘ how many blankets do you sleep with? ’

‘ does your name hold any special meaning to you? ’

‘ gum, cake, pie or ice cream? ’

‘ favorite book? ’

‘ are you a good person? ’

‘ describe love. ’

‘ have you ever taken part in an uprising? ‘

‘ favorite song? ’

‘ name a guilty pleasure. ’

‘ the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you today? ’

‘ tell me one truth and one lie. ’

‘ do you like people? ’

‘ what motivates you? ’

‘ describe the perfect weekend. ’

‘ any pet peeves? ’

‘ do you need a hug? ’

‘ would you like to have kids? ’

‘ do you have any tattoos? ’

‘ classical, oldies, punk, hip hop or country? ’

‘ when was the last time you cried? ’

‘ are you religious? ’

#ask meme

antiquatus‌:

THROUGH THE LOW CHATTER that pervaded his wine bar, brief excerpts of Bach’s Goldberg Variations could be heard, the delicate melody playing at such a low volume that one almost had to strain one’s ears for the music to be heard. Glenn Gould, of course, as if there was any other option, but he doubt few, if any, paid much attention—or indeed cared—about which particular rendition he was playing; but he knew and that was enough.

Of course, William didn’t really need to man Ramo d’Olivo every single day, but it was what he found himself doing. Most importantly, it was what he loved doing, so why should he stop doing what he loved? He had enough money to never work again, but what was the fun in sitting back and doing nothing? In his wine bar, he felt useful, appreciated even for what he could offer—and what he offered was this: a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of every wine known to man, and then some.

The doors to his wine bar flung open. Another employee rose up to greet the recently-arrived customer, but he held them back and gestured that he’ll handle them himself. With a smile, William went towards them, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Welcome to Ramo d’Olivo,” he said, his voice smooth yet cheerful at the same time. “Is this for a special occasion or are you here to just enjoy a relaxing break from the day?” His smile widened. “Either way, I assure you, you’ll have the best wine in the city—possibly even the state.” The boast came far too easily. “I curated the collection myself so I can give you my personal guarantee.”

Astrid hated empty days, and yet now it seemed she was full of them. Her editor had told her to take some time to ‘re-evaluate her priorities’ - a phrase which, in itself, made her want to re-evaluate her sobriety instead. Which is how she ended up at Ramo d’Olivo. Because everyone knew that wine tasting was the only socially acceptable form of day drinking, and she wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat that easily...

“Oh, every day I’m alive is a special occasion,” Astrid replied, her sarcastic tone and smile probably unwarranted, but she was feeling edgy. The instructor of the yoga class she’d forced herself to attend last week had said something to that same effect - with all earnest, mind you - and Astrid had adopted it with every ounce of irony she could muster.

#c: William Pulitzer #//Astrid's just sarcastic and annoyed with life right now

calderwoodrp

☆ ASTRID HAYES

introduction –

NAME. Astrid Hayes PRONOUNS. She/her AGE & BIRTHDATE. 29 | October 18, 1989 HOMETOWN. Savannah, GA NEIGHBORHOOD. Idlewild OCCUPATION. Journalist at the Calderwood Gazette FACECLAIM. Aly Michalka

story –

[ cw: abuse, ptsd, war ]

Astrid Hayes was born with soft edges. It was the kind of thing that could only be afforded to girls with people to look out for them. A mother, who went out into the world every day and reported on atrocities in the hope she might make it just a little bit better for her children. A father, who could tuck her into his arms and never fail to make her feel safe. A little brother, who looked at her like she hung the stars and the moon and made her believe she was capable of anything. The world was soft and kind to girls like Astrid, and though there was more she could have wanted, she always had everything she needed.

It all shattered like a car windshield on impact when she was 13, and next thing she knew, she was burying her mother six feet underground. And girls like Astrid - all delicate sinew and fragile bone - were not made to withstand such heartache. So she gave into her grief, let it consume her until it became like an old friend. It felt safe enough to do so, with her brother and her father looking on, strong and stoic in all the ways that she was weak.

But then something contorted in her father, his stoicism shifting from an impassive face to a clenched jaw. It was almost as if her sadness angered him. She was crying in the kitchen the first time he hit her, and even as she learned to stifle her tears until she was behind closed doors, he never stopped.

Her one saving grace was her little brother, Arthur. He was the one person she could cry to - her partner and confidant, her pillar of strength and calm - and their oath to keep each other safe was the thing that always kept her going. It was what kept her in the house far longer than she should have stayed, vowing she wouldn’t leave until he was 18 and she could take him with her.

She was two weeks shy of her 20th birthday - counting down the days until her brother was legally an adult - when her father came home one night in a particularly sour mood, no doubt looking for a fight. Astrid was out with some friends, so he turned to Arthur as his next target. The sight Astrid came home to - Arthur beaten and bloody, far more than had ever been inflicted on the siblings before - was enough to cause something inside her to snap. In that moment, Astrid became hard and strong in all the ways she never had been before and - countdown be damned - she took her brother and they stole off into the night.

Her mother’s family lived in Calderwood, so that’s where they ended up, and the New Astrid did everything she could to provide for her and her brother. She worked full time as a waitress while taking classes at the local community college, eventually transferring her credits to a nearby university with a scholarship and graduating with a dual degree in Political Science and Communications.

She decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps and go into journalism. But New Astrid - determined to never be soft like she once was - decided that wasn’t enough of a challenge for her. She became a War Correspondent for the San Francisco Chronicle, and worked to prove her strength by throwing herself into some of the greatest conflicts imaginable. It was a determination that often veered closer to reckless abandon, but it was part of what made her so good at her job.

That is, until her latest assignment, when she got so careless it nearly killed her and another member of her press corps. She was deemed too much of a liability, and was grounded stateside. She still refuses to acknowledge how the experience shook her, and using that same stubborn determination to suppress the trauma try to get back out into the field again.

WRITTEN BY MOLLY. SHE/HER. PST.

#bio

Hi, Friends! I’m reposting my character intros on each account individually, just so I have a handy dandy post to link to anytime anyone asks for a basic rundown. But to introduce myself first: I’m Molly. I am now officially in my late 20s and completely fine with it. (No, I’m not.) I work for a TV producer at a studio, which basically means I’m either so busy I want to pull my hair out, or I’m so not busy I take two-hour naps for lunch...

This here is Astrid Hayes:

29 years old; originally from Savannah, GA but she’s been in Calderwood for the last 9 years

War correspondent/Freelancer for the San Francisco Chronicle; she’s the personification of the meme ‘doing risky shit because you lowkey wanna die’

You have to be a Level 7 friend to unlock her tragic backstory (good luck getting her to talk about it, but let’s just say her dad is not a nice man and left her with a lot of trust and anger issues)

Technically kidnapped her little brother, Arthur, when she was 20 years old, but only to get them out of their shitty home situation. They moved to Calderwood, where their late mother’s family lived.

Pretends to be chill, but would actually knife any man who dares mess with her or any woman, because she hates those fuckers anyway

Seriously, she trusts men about as far as she can throw them. And she’s tiny, so she can’t throw them very far. (She’s still lowkey a sloppy b*tch who’s down to clown tho…)

Has never met a woman she didn’t want to adopt into her girl squad

‘I’m not controlling. I’m just aggressively helpful.’

Will make the rare exception to the ‘trust no man’ rule - namely for her little bro Arthur, and anyone he deems acceptable

Basically always DTF (’down to fight’ or, y’know.. the other one) with an unquenchable thirst for justice

As far as connections: I really want her brother Arthur around, as well as cousins/family from her mother’s side that brought her to Calderwood in the first place. She also needs her girl squad, and if you have a female (or NB!) character, you can pretty much assume Astrid has adopted them (or is currently making plans to).

#calderwoodtalks #muse