an-ahez

[an-ahez]

what's with the fic baby prince of exy on ao3? I've seen it in the first page of the aftg tag everyday but it never has new chapters what's going on

[an-ahez]

Full Length Ballet Performances

Cinderella

Instituto Nacional De Las Bellas Artes 🩰 Russian National Ballet

Coppelia

Paris Opera Ballet 🩰 Bolshoi Ballet Theatre

Don Quixote

The National Ballet Theatre of Ukraine 🩰Teatro alla Scala di Milano Marrinsky Theatre

Giselle

Bolshoi Ballet Theatre 🩰 Polish National Ballet 🩰 The Royal Danish Ballet 🩰 National Opera and Ballet Theatre of Mari El

La Bayadère

National Opera and Ballet Theatre of Mari El.🩰 Bolshoi Ballet Theatre

La Fille Mal Gardée

Serbian National Ballet

La Sylphide

The Royal Danish Ballet

Marguerite & Armand

The Royal Ballet

Mayerling

Stainslavsky Ballet

Nutcracker

The New York City Ballet 🩰Marrinsky Theatre 🩰 National Opera and Ballet Theatre of Marie.El

Romeo and Juliet

Ural Opera Ballet🩰 Bolshoi Ballet Theatre

Swan Lake

Kirkov Ballet 🩰 St Petersburg Ballet Theatre 🩰 American Ballet Theatre 🩰 Bolshoi Ballet Theatre

The Sleeping Beauty

Staatsballett Berlin 🩰 National Opera and Ballet Theatre of Mari El 🩰 Marrinsky Theatre 🩰 l'Opéra Bastille 🩰Teatro alla Scala 🩰 Bolshoi Ballet Act 1 Bolshoi Ballet Act 2

The Rite of Spring (Le sacre du printemps)

Marrinsky Theatre

I was born in the correct generation because I loved those photos so much, I decided to look up the ballet so I could watch it and there it was ! I have added other full length performances as well and for most of the pieces I have added different ballet companies (if I could find) just because different ballet companies means different choreography ( not always but certain companies are reowned for their distinct style)

Enjoy!

xo Daphne

[an-ahez]

Rick Riordan and Nora Sakavic are my two favorite authors, and it's so funny because Rick will have a bajillion amazing books out and then be like:

Rick: Hey guys, I thought of some new adventure for the characters to go on, and it seemed fun, so I'm writing three more books!

And then Nora will be MIA for years, only to one day out of the blue be like:

Nora: Hey guys. Jean's ghost wouldn't stop haunting me until I told his story, so you're getting another book.

Nora, later: Hey guys, bad news. The one book has turned into two books, but it'll ONLY be TWO I'm serious.

Nora, even later, months after book 1: Ok guys. Book two at the end of the year. Don't ask about book three's release date, or else I'll literally combust.

It's so funny because we have so much content from Rick, and he just keeps providing us with more because he's just having fun (and we absolutely love it). Meanwhile, while the story is obviously important and means a lot to Nora, she makes it seem like it's getting dragged out of the depths of her soul, and it keeps getting longer against her will.

The dichotomy is hilarious, and I absolutely love them both.

[an-ahez]

[an-ahez]

Recent me moments

My sewing machine broke… but I found a vintage one at the thrift store!

Chilling with my dog in nature.

My drawing corner on a rainy day.

Now I can sew the puff sleeves of my dreams

For daily doodle updates check out my sketch ig: @ Laurenfrustrated!

[an-ahez]

you know the pommel horse guy from the olympic gymnastics? the one that only does one thing and does it perfectly while the rest of the team compete in multiple things at once? thats andrew when they put him in halfway through the match when they dont want to let in any more goals

things nora sakavic has written that make me lose my shit every time i read them: andrew's first game with the foxes

THEY WAKE HIM UP LIKE A FUCKING SLEEPER AGENT AND JUST SEND HIM ON AND HE'S FUCKING THERE AND AARON AND NICKY KNOW EXACTLY HOW TO PLAY WITH HIM AARON IS TAKING SHOTS ON HIS OWN GOAL BECAUSE HE KNOWS ANDREW IS GOING TO DEFEND IT THE WAY THEY ALL JUST SUDDENLY KICK INTO GEAR IT MAKES ME ILL

[an-ahez]

They deserve a good nap 😴

[an-ahez]

thinking thoughts about kevin's relationship with his moms memory

from his own distant memories of her as his mom when he was little and she was still alive, to the ones from the nest where they probably just saw her as one of the founders of exy and nothing more, and finally to palmetto, where he could get to know another part of her from the hand of someone who loved her and knew her as an adult, his own father.

idk i just find kevin's relationship with his parents really interesting, and im curious about what wymack could contribute to kevin´s image of his mom

[an-ahez]

based on the "do you think exy twt has ship wars?" tweet

what part is this? I suppose 3 first prev

[an-ahez]

the big olympics reunion (pt.2)

[an-ahez]

socmed pt4

Andrew Minyard we know you care!! Deep down you care so much it makes you look stoopid

[an-ahez]

does anyone know how/why is theres so many aftg russian fans?? dont get me wrong it kinda fascinates me and makes me wanna learn russian cause theres so many fics and even tiktoks in that language that i can only assume theyre a whole ass community. its kinda neat but unexpected

[an-ahez]

Imagine the foxes on their way back home from a game. It's late and the bus is quiet, everyone is either asleep, listening to music or with their phones. But suddenly:

Neil looking down at his phone from the back rows of seats (loudly): Nicky what's a sugar daddy?

The question got the entire team's attention and they were looking at Neil in silence

Nicky: ..... why do you wanna know

Neil: I just saw the word on Twitter but I don't know what it means

So Nicky explains it to him while the foxes look amused at the confusion on Neil's face

Neil turning to Andrew: Wait

Andrew: No

Neil: I basically bought you a Maserati :)

Andrew: Neil no

Neil: Am I your sugar daddy Andrew? :)))

Cue the foxes shouting and dying on the front of the bus, Andrew's deadpan expression and Wymack just sighting with defeat on the driver's seat

[an-ahez]

After Care

Wymack flies home from dropping Jean in L.A.

914 words | TSC spoilers

~

David Wymack watches Jean Moreau ride the long escalator down to baggage claim and arrivals. Jean doesn’t look back, and David doesn’t take his eyes off him until he disappears from sight. He still doesn’t move, not for several seconds even then. It’s too hard to unstick his feet from the floor; they’ve been glued there with bone deep weariness. 

He manages it, though, just like he always does; turns on heel to head back into the throng of the airport, makes good on his plan to lose his melancholy in overpriced Johnny Walker. His flight home is not for several hours - he’d left wiggle room in case of delays. Always a back up plan, and then another. But they’d landed at LAX right on schedule, and David reckons that means at least a $200 bar tab before he’s airborne again. 

It ends up just shy, at $198 with tip, and he’s one of the last on the plane, easily ignoring the grumblings of the couple who have to get up and let him to his window seat. 

He likes the view, from a plane. Likes looking at the earth from this high up; a view that makes the weight of the world seem small for a pocket of time. From up here one can imagine that mafias and psychopaths and rapists and deadbeat parents are monsters of fiction. 

It’s beautiful, from up here. 

Sometimes David thinks that it can be beautiful from down there, with two feet on the ground, but today is not one of those times. He thinks about burn marks and blue eyes, he thinks about blood and rackets, he thinks about patches of raw scalp and scars and broken bones. He tries to close his eyes, but he sees Seth on the back of his eyelids, and others too, names he can’t bear to think right now.

Instead, he flags down the flight attendant about it, ordering two small bottles, and then again, and then again, until the attendant finally rolls his eyes and hands him ten at once. David toasts the clouds with a heavy heart and doesn’t try to sleep. 

There’s a changeover at Dulles, and then a short hop to Upstate Regional, and David is decidedly on the far left of sober when the plane lands on his home turf. He’d driven them there, just him and Jean, not quite 24 hours ago, leaving his truck in the short term parking. 

It’s dusk out, now, the sun pushing pale orange and lavender across the sky when David walks steadily out of the terminal, digging his keys out of his pocket with his head down. He pulls up short, though, something finally putting a hitch in his step, when he arrives to find Abby sitting on his tailgate with her legs hanging down and her hands wrapped around the edge. 

David’s raw heart aches, to look at her. It’s like staring into the sun. “How are you here?” he says, gruff, voice rusty with disuse and airplane. He looks around reflexively for her car. 

“Betsy,” Abby says, hopping down, holding out her hands for him. Which wasn't what he was asking. Which he knows she knows.

“I can’t,” he says. Not here, he means. Abby doesn’t fight him, just nods and drops one hand, keeping the other out for David to place the keys in. 

She drives them to her home in silence. She doesn’t ask, and David doesn’t protest. She’s too good for him. Doesn’t mean he’s going to turn this down, when the hope of it right now is the only thing keeping him stitched together. 

“Come on, old man,” she says when they’ve parked. There’s no other cars besides Abby’s, and David lets out a sigh that turns into a groan as he crawls down from the passenger side of his own truck. He’s not that old, damnit, but he played hard on the court and off it in his younger years and that shit takes a toll on a body, particularly after back to back trans-continental flights. 

Abby shoves him towards the master bathroom once they’re inside, and David’s throat does something complicated to see a clean pair of his own sweats folded up on top of the closed toilet seat. He obediently showers off the travel and the whiskey, and while being clean and wrapped in soft clothes doesn’t manage to put an actual dent in the weight on his shoulders, he does feel steadier.

He finds Abby perched at the far end of her couch, some serial drama reruns on the television and a robust sandwich sliced in half on the coffee table. 

“Thank you,” he says, and lowers himself beside her with a sigh. She’s left a bottle on the table too, half full of a good single malt, even though he knows she disapproves of this tactic. He leaves it, eats half the sandwich, and doesn’t resist when Abby winds a free hand in his hair and tugs. 

“How are you?” she asks him again, once David is sprawled long on the couch, his head resting comfortably on her soft thighs.

Abby cards her fingers over and over through his hair and David finally lets his eyes fall closed. He watches the back of Jean’s head, his stance rigid, as he rides that escalator down and out of sight over and over and over again. 

“Been better,” he says. Abby’s gentle touch doesn’t falter, and she doesn’t push, and David slowly falls asleep in her lap.

[an-ahez]

the emotional whiplash from hearing that Shadow and Bone is canceled and then getting a full trailer for Percy Jackson is real

[an-ahez]

[an-ahez]

one important thing that Must be understood about interpersonal relationships is that you have to stop interacting with people who love you like they’re one slip-up away from leaving you. you have to trust that the ppl you love mean what they say. you have to believe that when they say “this hurt my feelings,” that they’re also saying, “can you please love me this other way next time?” and you have to wrap your head around the fact that even if you don’t understand Why someone loves you, you can accept that that they do. true, honest, & open love does not function like hp in a video game !!!!!!