how not to be a perfectionist

@hcngthemoon​ || nomi and june

It was rare that Nomi was late. Not unheard of, but rare. When it did happen, like today, it was generally due to circumstances beyond her control. Such was the case today, where an accident on her way from work had her sliding into the school building a full 30 minutes late. Of course, by the time she arrived, couples had–well–coupled off, leaving her options for seating limited. She could sit next to Scott Lambrin, the father of one of the boys in Toby’s class, and a notorious creep. Or next to Greta Veil, insufferable, self-righteous homophobe.

Or, she could sit next to June Sun. All things considered, not her ideal spot, but better than the remaining options. She crept across the room quietly and slid into the seat next to the woman, and pretended not to hear the whispers behind her. “Sorry,” she muttered, pulling out a notepad and doing her best to listen to the headmaster drone on and on about nothing interesting or important. It was a challenge normally, but made more so by the fact that June was next to her. For some reason, that was especially distracting today.

When the headmaster finally stopped bloviating and parents were released into the courtyard where drinks and hors d’oeurves were waiting for them, Nomi looked to her side. Was it weirder if she said something, or said nothing? Nomi couldn’t tell for certain, but she felt as though she had to decide quickly. “Sorry,” is what came out of her mouth–not a great start. She paused, feeling as though she’d already made a mistake. But, as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound. “About being late, I mean.” And about sitting next to you and also about this conversation. “There was an accident. On the road, I mean. And I wasn’t in it. I was just stuck waiting because of it. Sorry.”

if it weren’t for the rigorous scheduling of her assistant, june would quite possibly never leave her studio. it had been one of those weeks when her mind was reeling with endless possibilities and her hands itched to enact its vision, a burst of productivity that relegated mundane things like grocery shopping and admin tasks to ignorable background noise. her only real tether to the outside world came in the form of her kids. she’d be the first to admit that she had never been the sort of parent who would drop everything if her children needed her, it had been the downfall of her marriage after all, the fact that she had never fully found the balance between her creative process and her family life, but she always tried to make the effort. more so now, when custody was divided between the two of them, her failings made more obvious when there was no one there to fill in the gaps.

june was never early but somehow not often late, so she got to the school exactly on time, perfectly avoiding having to speak to any of the other parents who were already starting to file into the theatre. she slid into a seat on the aisle and the next man who aimed for the same row left a seat between them, clearly assuming that she was waiting for someone. she didn’t have the heart to correct him, so the chair remained mockingly empty, its shiny plastic seat reflecting the harsh overhead lighting. june hadn’t dared look around the room as she arrived, knowing that her eyes would immediately start scanning for her ex wife among the crowd. instead she focused on the present, the headmaster waffling on about gcse choices and how crucial the next few years of education were for their children. it was, almost word for word, the exact same speech he had made three years ago when they had been sat in the exact same room for their eldest son’s options evening.

nomi’s sudden arrival broke her out of a daydream, right as the droning,  monotonous tone of the headmaster’s voice was threatening to put her to sleep. it was so unlike her to be late that june itched to ask what was wrong, concern that she was completely ill-equipped to suppress scratching at her throat. but that wasn’t her place anymore and the ongoing presentation was the perfect excuse to say nothing, so she merely offered her a sheepish smile. “ you haven’t missed much, ” she whispered almost conspiratorially before turning her head back towards the stage.

“Are you sure?” she said. “I mean, I’m happy to snack but if you have...Denise said...you know what, that sounds great.” There was a reason Nomi rarely spoke to June--she always tried too hard not to say the wrong thing, and somehow looped back around to saying the definite wrong thing instead. It made her feel muddled. “I hate Greta and I love pinwheels. Let’s do that.”

With her possessions gathered, she paused the faintest moment before turning and heading toward the courtyard. “I promised Callum if he kept the other two out of trouble, he could have that new camera he’s been on about. You weren’t saving that for some other bribe, were you?” That he’d begun to show interest in art--after his other mom--was a source of equal parts relief and worry for Nomi. On the one hand, at least it was art and not whatever trouble kids could get themselves into these days. On the other hand, being an artist hadn’t exactly made June’s life easy. Or maybe she was projecting. June being an artist hadn’t made her own life easy. This entire train of thought felt like the start of a fight, and she hadn’t even said any of it out loud, though. The point was, she was bribing their kid. That was alright, right?

They reached the bar first--wise, to put that before the food--and Nomi turned before ordering. “They’ve got that wine you like, I think. Red, bright, notes of currant.” She gestured vaguely toward the bottle she’d recognized. Nomi had a good memory for wines. Part of the job, she told herself, and not a sign of her descent into wine-mom-territory.

@hcngthemoon​​ || fredrick and eric

It was becoming increasingly apparent to Fredrick that their life was spiraling. It had, in all likelihood, been spiraling for quite some time, but they were not famed for their self-reflection skills. And so, it was only now becoming increasingly apparent that their life was spiraling. His thesis was stalled–one professor on sabbatical and the other too checked out to answer his questions. The record store was struggling to make rent again, which meant payments would be late. And Eric–well, it did seem that Eric was the one consistently good thing, a problem unto itself.

Eric was like a whirlwind that one couldn’t help but enjoy being swept up in. That was always the case. But lately, there was something different. Something more pronounced. Fredrick was accustomed to Eric’s semi-manic enthusiasm for things, but this felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on why–see, again, the lack of reflective skills, combined with the fact that Fredrick tried very hard not to spend too much time thinking about Eric, lest those pesky feelings emerge. Whatever it was, though, it was somehow both the only pleasant part of most days, and the most worrisome.

Today, in an attempt to gain control of the spiral and not think about Eric, for example, Fredrick was trying desperately to put together a half-decent meal. They were not succeeding. In fact, it was going so poorly that when Eric came home–late, though Fredrick wasn’t thinking about that–Fredrick couldn’t even beat themself up for their excitement. “Thank god you’re home,” he called from the kitchen, where the smoke alarm was not going off. Not anymore, at least. “Please tell me there’s food on you. I’m not sure it’s safe to use the oven.”

eric was probably one of the few people on the staten island ferry that actually enjoyed the trip. he sat surrounded by weary commuters and underwhelmed tourists, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face from the feeling of being surrounded by the water. it was his one stipulation when he had followed fredrick to the city after college, that they live far enough out that he still had access to the water, even if the harbour paled in comparison to the open seas he often still felt the pull towards.

“The stove and I have a difficult relationship,” they explained, not that Eric really needed it. The question how did you manage to burn pasta was surely rhetorical. “Nick said he’d pay me next Friday, but I know better than to hold my breath for that, so I thought this would be more cost-effective than takeout. I see now the error of my ways...” Of course, this was a poor choice of conversation topic. Fredrick didn’t really want to talk about his spiraling life with Eric. Dani, maybe, but not Eric. “Anyway, how was Max today? Did he stay out of trouble?” Fredrick was grateful to have a task at hand, something that required just enough attention to turn his ever-spinning brain off. The dog, of course, came rushing over at the sound of his name. Probably expecting a treat or something. After nearly tripping over him, they couldn’t help but pause and give the boy a scratch behind the ears. Perhaps, he’d mis-thought earlier. Eric was one of two consistently good things; it was hard to deny that having a pet was another.

though it was a self appointed title, mars was proud to be the best babysitter ever. and though their relationship with arin had always been complicated, wreaking havoc on the emotions that they had never in their life been able to hold in check, they had never once let that affect their relationship with sasha. it was one of the factors that made things even more complicated; they’d never been able to get a clean break from their ex since they were practically incapable of saying no to being used for free childcare and the aforementioned ex had no qualms about asking. “ pfft, i reckon you could do that, ” they nudged the child in question as they both leaned against a wall towards the edge of the skatepark waiting for arin, watching a group of teens taking it in turns to do tricks in the bowl. “ maybe not like, right now, but we’ll totally work up to it. ”

It was probably--at least partially--that Sasha really connected with Mars. Now, the kid connected with everyone because she was literally the coolest kid Arin knew, but it was especially close with Mars. More than any of his ex’s, Mars seemed to be the one Sasha liked best. Case in point, when he approached, the two were huddled like to peas in a freakin’ pod, whispering away, and only stopped when he was in earshot. “Guess what guess what guess what,” Sasha gushed immediately. “Mars let me do something really fun and then we promised not to tell you.”

Arin glanced at Mars, squinting their eyes and trying to decide whether that was a problem or not. Probably not, right? “Right. Well, you know--”

“And, NiNi, snitches get stitches, so I’m not gonna tell.” Sasha stood up to her full height, reaching all of Mars’s waist. She made a big show of zipping her lip with an imaginary zipper, locking it, and then throwing away the key. All before ruining the effect with a proud, “Tada!”

Arin couldn’t help it. He laughed. It’s probably not cool to laugh that much at your own kid but, well... He did. “Alright, I won’t ask.” He finally gave Mars his full attention. “What did you bribe her with this time?” he asked, mostly teasing.

hope was something that glinda had long since learned to quash. sometimes it felt like her very capacity for hoping had been ripped out of her, fractured and broken so many times that it no longer caused that flutter in her stomach that she had once clung to like a lifeline. and yet, as she stood in an unfamiliar village in a corner of the world she ad previously never known existed, she was surprised to feel that hopeful feeling resurface. this was it, she had told herself, this was the last place she would look before she allowed herself to stop. she was far too tired, worn down by years of loneliness and yearning, to go on like this for much longer. one more try, before the note she had found in the grimmerie would be tucked back into its hiding place and the ruler of oz would resign herself once and for all to her life of solitude. the wicked die alone.

the note itself was worn around the edges, the paper discoloured and frayed from glinda’s worried thumb, every inch of it thoroughly scrutinised multiple times over. she had been afraid to touch it at first, scared to disturb the remnants of elphaba’s magic that crackled in the ink and called only to her. she knew this to be true as she had rushed to show her findings to crope and tibbett, both of whom had asked what was so interesting about a blank piece of paper and had fussed over her clearly declining mental state. it was only once she finally gave in and reached out to trace a finger tip across the loops of familiar cursive that she had made any kind of progress, her magic reacting with her best friend’s almost immediately.

Little things, at any rate. When she sensed the presence outside her door, all of the magical energy available to her set into motion immediately. Glamours and voice changing spells, on top of the effort to keep herself alive and whole. All that before whoever it was knocked. The woman rose slowly, taking her time to let the magic settle over her by the time she reached the door.

“Can I--” The moment she opened the door, she felt a seismic shift. Glinda. It had been such a long time she’d seen the woman she’d once considered her best friend, it made Elphaba feel dizzy. Her ears began to ring, or--no, that was the kettle. “Shit.” Turning the kettle off wasn’t actually urgent, but she couldn’t think with the sound. “Wait, I...” She turned and ran back into her house, leaving the door open, not sure if she wanted her to still be there when she returned or not.

@hcngthemoon​

In the days leading up, Ella had worried the edge of the paper so much, it had grown soft and fibrous. There was a hole right in the middle, where the creases from the folds met. Still, she felt calmer now, more at peace than she had since she’d texted Logan. These drawings were precious to her, yes. But if anyone would understand, it was someone who had known her for so long. Someone who knew…well, maybe not everything she went through, but certainly more than most people in her life. Logan would understand what this meant to her.

Ella had been to the shop more than a few times; she was perfectly comfortable there. The bell above the door rang lightly as she entered, though she announced her presence with an additional, “Hello?” as she walked in. Logan had offered to see her right at the end of the day, but she knew he was always booked up, so if he was with a client, it might be a moment.

Ella made herself comfortable in the lobby, though she didn’t have to wait long before she heard footsteps behind her. She turned slowly, rooting through her bag for a moment before looking up to greet him. “I didn’t want to bring anything that would be heavy to carry home, so I just have bread.” She held the small loaf out, offering it toward Logan with a smile. “I hope that’s okay.”

logan felt like he was thriving at this time of year. the heady rush of a new beyoncé album combined with the thrill of halloween probably gave him enough serotonin to carry him right through to christmas, so it was safe to say that there was a real spring in his step, despite the change in the weather. it was enough that no one noticed anything suspicious about his behaviour as he floated through his day, thoughts almost exclusively on the person coming to see him in the evening.

he liked to keep saturday afternoons free for walk-ins, so he ended up with some incredibly rare downtime towards the end of his day, which he filled with some much needed social media maintenance, choosing the perfect ( beyoncé ) song for his latest tiktok showing off a massive leg sleeve he had just finished working on. renaissance blasting loud through the shop’s speaker system, he likely wouldn’t have heard the bell signifying ella’s entrance if he hadn’t been anxiously waiting for it all day. “ i’ll be out in a sec !! ” he called out, knowing that he had to allow his heart a moment to regain its normal rhythm, the traitorous muscle doing nothing to help him try to pretend that there wasn’t at least a small part of him that was still hung up on her.

She had no idea, but rather than linger on that, she turned her attention to the offer of tea and her own nerves. She rubbed her finger along the edge, nail flicking against the frayed hole. She followed him further into the studio. There were new art pieces up--Ella had no idea if they were inspiration or just pieces he liked. It was always interesting to see what pieces he picked. “How, er, how were your walk-ins?” she asked. It was strange to be nervous around Logan. There was something about his general demeanor that made him easy to be around.

Still, she didn’t want to waste his time. It was so kind of Logan to stay late for her. “I--” She worried at the edge of the paper again. If she kept this up, it would get too damaged for him to use. “I drew--well, I copied a note from my dad. I thought maybe...” she trailed off, feeling silly about her idea but holding out the paper to show Logan anyway. His work was pretty amazing. If anyone could make an idea like this into a good tattoo, it’d be him.