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#who made that costume decision
hauntedmoors · 7 months
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okay. I had this typed out days ago but why not post it etc but it was so baffling to witness the multiple posts asking the show to make it clear that the seanchan are despicable people. well. I disagree that the show hasn’t done enough to convey the horror of the seanchan occupation and brutality - uno being murdered brutally conveyed that the seanchan were horrible people effectively. the seanchan tearing away young women who can channel from their families conveyed that effectively. egwene being collared and elayne describing them as ‘invaders’ was done specifically for the audience’s benefit. the idea that imperialism and invasion is always tied to more physical, visceral displays of violence is flawed (although the seanchan certainly have plenty to show for it in that department) and ignores the way empires launched programs to tame the minds and spirits of their subjected populaces besides merely establishing control over their bodies (the oaths of allegiance the seanchan extract, for example) - be it through martial rule or through the suppression of indigenous cultures; this notion also downplays the role of the insidious methods employed by imperial powers to establish control i.e. the suffocating influences of neocolonialism and the historical role that christianity, with its missionaries and ruling principles of benevolence and paternalism, played when it was wielded as a tool by empires in their pursuit to establish and expand their territories. I somehow see this being done with the books too which is absolutely baffling?? seanchan settler colonialism intentionally riffing off of the american expansion into native territory doesn’t deserve to be downplayed in your examinations of the story. the idea of ‘manifest destiny’ manufactured to justify colonialism has a blatant analogue in the text by way of the hailene and the prophecies, omens and superstitions that encourage saviourist narratives about the empire and are geared towards ensuring its preservation. the series has multiple narratives geared towards freeing and rehabilitating the damane who’re enslaved. tldr, the books are very critical of the seanchan and the show has (so far, given the material it’s adapting i.e. tgh) done very well in carrying over that criticism! jordan’s books also do a lot of subtextual work and I think it’s unfair to dismiss it simply because they’re less obvious.
also re: I don’t really Understand the multiple posts citing that line by the innkeeper in atuan’s mill and conjecturing that only egwene’s time in captivity will enable show onlys to truly internalise how awful the seanchan empire is, tbh. the ordinary layperson living in a village far from a governments’s base of rule is likely bound to be unaffected, especially if he’s a selfish man more concerned about his own bodily wellbeing. I don’t even think the line was meant to be taken literally - it mostly served to convey the populace’s general dislike of the whitecloaks, and especially so the branch of questioners who’re known to torture captives to extract confessions from them.
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mikelogan · 10 months
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Mike Logan in Law & Order: Criminal Intent with his Goddamn Fucking Hat
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lohstandfound · 2 months
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the you & i scene from the b:apo au lives rent free in my mind
I very much enjoyed writing it I love that fic so much
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feralsteddie · 2 years
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*pointing at Eddie Munson* the hankerchief is on the left, guys. the left. it’s on the left- guys, it’s on the fucking left
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barrenceallence · 1 year
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Tags that read #reblogging this because I was instantly in love with August Heart the second I saw him #and now am looking up Manuel Lago #although unfortunately Manuel Lago seems to be a fairly common name. #really should have added 'comics' but well hon live and learn. #this is a not so subtle request for a primer #COUGH.
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@benbamboozled I have been summoned lmao
Manuel Lago was a character introduced in Brian Buccellato and Francis Manapul’s run for the New 52 Flash series in 2011. he’s there for a CRIMINALLY measly 5 issue arc called Mob Rule.
He’s repeatedly called Barry’s oldest friend — there’s all these flashbacks (THAT ARE CUTE AS HECK) that show Manuel and Barry’s history together, from first meeting in college right up until Barry’s gets struck by lightning. He goes MIA after that and the arc starts off with Manuel barging back in Barry’s life after all this time.
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(lichrally flirting idk what to even say)
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(AHHH Barry just looks so HAPPY to see him damnit)
He’s got a pretty wild backstory for a character who’s literally only there for 5 issues — his dad was killed in a plane hijacking so his natural course of action was to….join the CIA to track down the hijackers (a group called Basilisk). With the CIA he’s some sort of a deep state operative and subject to some experiments that give him a regenerating ability like a healing factor.
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(That James Bond meets Batman line is the funniest thing in the world to me. No wonder Barry gets along fine with Bruce.)
he ends up getting captured by Basilisk after going rogue and they torture him for WEEKS by cutting off his hands and fingers. But those cut off pieces actually fully regenerate into straight up clones of Manuel and they start calling themselves Mob Rule.
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(ITS SUCH A RANDOMLY METAL BACKSTORY LIKE oh yeah the dismemberment)
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(In which manny is an absent father for his 52 clones)
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(I honestly don’t even know what he was trying to do here. As far as he knows Barry is just a normal ass civilian how’s he gonna help you? He literally just wanted to see Barry)
I just really like his character bc I love the potential of what kind of friendship they must have had. They’re a bit of an odd couple but they consider each other ‘family’ and Barry’s actually knows and IS CLOSE WITH Manuel’s mom. The person Manuel calls when he’s got no one to turn to in a dangerous mission is Barry. When he thinks Barry’s dead, Manuel goes into a rage. So there’s this really close bond between that doesn’t get much spotlight besides those brief flashbacks that makes me so curious.
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Honestly Manuel reminds me so much of that post that’s like men say they’re fighting their demons and then the demons are just bisexuality.
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#this has been an infodump#thank you and goodnight#barry allen#Manuel Lago#finally I have added to this long dormant tag#I just think he’s actually such a cool ass character like HES SO METAL HE LITERALLY CUTS OFF PARTS OF HIMSELF ON PURPOSE#what a mad lad#like he’s such an inchresting foil for Barry as well bc like#Barry’s whole thing is how he’s slow tbh despite his powers and his arc is all about like DOING and RUNNING TOWARDS the danger#for the sake of his friends his and city and the things he’s committed to for love#and then Manuel is out here running away from everything despite being the one who’s always been the one to take action#but he doesn’t wanna face the hard parts of love which prlly namely that ppl die#he’s in deep denial and grief over his dad death I feel like and from then on he made all these crazy decisions#also in denial abt how much he loves Barry and he can’t help but keep reaching out even after he abandons him time and time again#and he just??? commanded an army of his own clones no sweat ?? he’s so goddma. chill about it#prlly a front ? his brain is fried by the Horrors#he’s really Inchresting also to compare to august heart#he doesn’t have a bitchin costume like august unfortunately#but like they have such similar elements in this backstory it’s just smth to think about#dead relative sparks quest for vengeance that shows some tragic character flaw as a direct fool to how Barry also deals with tragedy#the funny thing is I think Manuel might even have a higher kill count than august#okay august killed like 13 people in that lightning strikes back arc#I don’t really see him murderi mg after that first arc tho#but manny was in the cia for YEARS#and then he went rogue to do MORE killing#but his biggest flaw is not that but actually just being a flake#hilarious#also parallels with how Barry forgives them both at the drop of a hat#anyway long ass post and and even longer tags whoops#ye have ignited my dormant fixation on this man
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Oh I love my Thistle
She is grooming in bed next to me and keeps leaning against me
Lick lick lick lick
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Nobody is making anyone go into scriptwriting. No one is born in a Netflix company town where their dad takes them into the script mines at age 12. Fuck writers who want to get paid more than once for the same job. They should only get residuals AFTER all the people who do REAL WORK, like construction, grips, costume, makeup & animators etc. Most of them are much better at their jobs than writers especially for streaming services, and they are what screenwriters can lean on & novelists can't.
People need to realize that the unions for white collar people like WGA or SIEU or NEA (public sector unions are why cops who kill the people they were supposed to serve & protect remain employed get pensions) is not the AFL-CIO or any other historical union fighting for the lives of the people who built the country's industry and made it run, any more than the NRA are the Minutemen of 1775 New England.
First, go fuck yourself, you fucking scab. No, seriously - you don't come to my blog and spout off about what workers deserve unions and decent pay and what ones don't, like it's your fucking decision. The intellectual labor that writers perform is just as real as any other work done on a film set - "all who labor by hand or brain" is the inherent logic of industrial unionism for a reason.
Second, writers aren't asking to get paid more than once: residuals are deferred pay, you absolute moron. In Hollywood, whether it's writers or actors or voice talent or whatever, you get a small fraction up front - it's usually an ok check, depending on the union's day rates and so forth, but you can't make a living off stitching these together - and then most of your pay comes from monthly royalty checks that provide you with the income you need to live off when you're between jobs.
The problem is that, historically in Hollywood, residuals have been structured with a very long "tail" - the payments start out relatively low and then get more generous over time as the show has more seasons and (presumably) goes into syndication. This doesn't work with streaming's new business model, where increasingly shows are getting 2-3 seasons max and streaming services have become increasingly quick to not just cancel shows but yank them off their servers in order to avoid paying residuals.
So what WGA writers are fighting for is a system that ensures writers (but also actors and other creative workers, because the unions pattern bargain) get a fair share of the show's revenue, even if the show is only given 2-3 seasons.
Third, the U.S labor movement would not exist today if it wasn't for white collar workers and public sector workers. About half of the U.S labor movement - 7 million workers - is public sector, and those workers are overwhelmingly women of color, mostly working as either teachers or postal workers. Likewise, about half the U.S labor movement is made up of white collar workers, and we're graduate students and adjuncts and lab researchers, teachers and social workers, administrators and IT departments.
I'm both public sector and white collar, and I'm a member of an NEA union. I'm an adjunct professor who earns $6,000 a course and it's my job to get working adults with jobs and families who've never gone to college or who've been out of higher ed for a decade to graduate with a bachelor's or a master's. If you don't think that's real work, you're free to research and write all the lectures and powerpoints, deliver those in an entertaining and educational fashion, answer a flood of questions from students who need help navigating academia, and then grade all the midterms and finals and research papers.
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This is truly stiff competition for the worst case of willful false equivalence we've ever seen.
So, for those not aware: Ongoing embarrassment to gamers and the gaming industry, Mark Kern (former lead on FireFall), has been desperately trying to get Gamergate 2 going on X/Twitter... well after others have given up. If you need to get caught up on Mark, I recommend this video by documentary maker and experienced game developer, Dead Domain:
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One of the latest fiascos in this mix has been the comparison of responses to character designs from Hades 2 (Aphrodite, left) and Stellar Blade (protagonist Eve, right). The post isn't by Mark, but is part of the general harassment campaign he's trying to lead.
If you're somehow not familiar with Aphrodite, she's the Ancient Greek goddess of love, lust and hot girl shit. It is absolutely perfect characterization for her to show up to a battle (or anything else) nude but for her hair teasingly covering the intimate parts of her body. But the buried lede here is, you don't fight her in Hades and nothing about Hades 2 indicates she'll fight there either, she just likes the aesthetic and has no reason not to indulge.
Stellar Blade will release on 26 April 2024, so we can't really give an informed discussion of her character. But what we do know is the studio head is the illustrator from Blade & Soul, Eve is described as being a member of "the 7th Airborne Squad" engaged in an "operation to reclaim the planet from the Naytiba", and the promotion material promises "an enthralling narrative filled with mature themes, mystery and revelation. Embrace the relentless pace, with no time to pause between moments where critical, story-changing decisions are made."
It's to be compared to games like Nier: Automata, Devil May Cry 5, Jedi: Fallen Order and Sekiro. And the screenshots look like this:
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And yeah, unlike Bayonetta she's not supposed to be an unstoppable force of nature (and fashion) who is immune to self-doubt, she's supposed to be the scrappy underdog last survivor of her team.
Weird they gave her a costume that conveys... the opposite of literally everything they're supposed to be trying to tell you about her.
-wincenworks
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thealogie · 2 months
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picture this. you're michael sheen, beloved queer-friendly welsh actor and recent twilight saga vampire. you want your favorite book to become a tv show, and you want to be the lead. so what do you do? you befriend the author. he wines and dines you, you become a confidant in the scriptwriting phase. and in the process of the GO script you decide you don't want to be crowley, actually, you want to be aziraphale. you put in the work for months to influence the author to the same conclusion. so when neil gaiman comes to you one day saying, "i know you joined on to be crowley... but how would you feel about playing aziraphale?" you say, what a novel idea! i was feeling the same way, i just didn't want to say anything! let's do it.
you're michael sheen, the lead in the adaptation of your favorite book. you meet david tennant as your leading man, a rising star (and vocal fan of yours) you've had a few vague interactions with in the past. on set you immediately find the closest friend you have ever and will ever find in your life, and you know this. the romance you have in your (yes, your) show is ambiguous, but you're michael sheen. you think that romance needs to be explicit. so what do you do? you become a nightmare on set. you get really hands-on; you make costume choices, you make story decisions, you tell your author friend at the very end of filming: aziraphale is in love with crowley and realizes it in 1941. now go do it again.
so the author goes and does it again. you get a season 2. you get 1941 part 2. you're michael sheen, and you are the lead of the adaptation of your favorite book, and the romance you littered into the character you built from the ground up has become unambiguous. everything goes according to plan. but, you see, you have a problem: the author you have baby trapped is acting a FIEND on twitter and tumblr. he's saying everything he can to imply aziraphale and crowley aren't sexually attracted to each other. he's getting a bit too bold with his character assumptions, is all i'm saying. so here's what you're going to do: you play it up with your pal david tennant. you made a show with him during lockdown. you're going to depict your lives as even more intertwined and homoerotically codependent as previously possible. you grow even closer. your wives become best friends, too, because how could they not? this has been the plan since the beginning, too. your lockdown show ends. it wasn't enough.
so you, michael sheen, of course you put in the work. if david tennant's there, you're damn sure you're there physically, spiritually, biblically, in whatever capacity you can be. it's not hard. david tennant is a big fan of yours, after all, so he MAKES SURE you're always in the conversation. you have him wrapped around your little finger, this lovely little boy, and so you know what you do next? you become neighbors. you make your directorial debut casting your best friend's wife watching her husband and male neighbor initiate sex with each other. you play into the swinging rumors (that you, michael sheen, had started). you create a narrative that you and david tennant are two homoerotic besties, and is there more going on in the background there? any deeper conspiracy? who really knows, but what you do know is that the world is talking about it.
and you, michael sheen, your entire acting career has led to this moment, your gay quips, your oscar wilde sex scene (and the interviews following), all of your queer roles, EVERYTHING has brought us to this conclusion. you have created the lab perfect conditions where season 3 must have an explicit gay sex scene. i'm sorry neil, my hands are tied! the people are clamoring for me and david tennant to have sex-- i mean aziraphale and crowley to have sex, the public decided this all on their own! i really don't think you have much choice. but of course, i would never deign to tell an author how to practice his veritable craft. i concede to whatever version of series 3 you create, and i will happy to bring this beloved character to his deserved ending.
and why do you say this? because you're michael sheen. you're just an actor who incidentally stumbled his way into leading the queer romance adaptation of your favorite book that wasn't a romance, and you just read the script the way that it was given to you. and if series 3 means an explicit sex scene between you and your best friend david tennant, then what a lovely coincidence that you had absolutely no part in making happen. because what power do you really have?
This is my favorite book I’ve read so far this year. A rare occasion where the author pulls off use of the second person pov. I really felt like I was a beloved welsh actor crossed with Machiavelli when I read this
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erideights · 8 months
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Little pieces here and there (1)
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Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)
Chapters: two, three, four, five
Word Count: 2,6K (i was inspired by god itself)
Warnings: none, lot of context (i promise the next chapter will have way less filling), light flirting
A/N: I HAVE ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT AT LEAST 5 CHAPTERS MORE, I HOPE SOMEONE LIKES THIS FIRST ONE BECAUSE I'M ON MY KNEES FOR THIS DAMN CLOWN. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in other parts! (Side note: i'm spanish, so if there's some mistakes, i'm trully sorry, i don't have beta readers).
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It's not enough to suddenly find herself locked in a box with 3 idiots she met a matter of hours ago, no; To make it worse, as it could not be otherwise, it turns out that she is in a bloody circus, ''kidnapped'' by a band of pirates that she recognizes as soon as she sees the red and white tent over their heads, the distressed faces of the poor people that make up the audience, and the costumes of the band around them.
She sighs, and wonders what the hell she's doing there despite knowing perfectly well what kind of decisions have led her to that damned place. Wanna know what happened? Let's recap, shall we?
(Y/N) (S/N). That name doesn't sound familiar, right? Very few know it but the reputation that accompanies the person who responds to it is very famous throughout the 4 seas. She is not a bounty hunter, nor a marine, neither a pirate or a pirate hunter, like the green-haired hottie with whom she finds herself in such trouble, or a thief, like the ginger who she bet, will escape running without looking back at the slightest opportunity she finds.
No, she's a mercenary. She doesn't work solely for money, otherwise she would go against the most bloodthirsty and ruthless of each sea, and that doesn'tt interest her, because she would put herself on the radar of both the pirates and the marines.
No, she is contacted through different channels, none of them direct, and if the job interests her, amuses her, or even piques her curiosity, she accept it. She goes after all kinds of people, whether they are pirates or marines, gangsters at the top of the terror scale or criminals who, like her, tried to keep a low profile.
However, and as we were saying, despite trying to remain anonymous, she is good at her job, a born strategist with an incredible facility to adapt and blend in with her surroundings to sneak into the most remote places, so her existence inevitably began to be noticed along the seas, rumors about this young mercenary with an angelic face, who only responded to her own morals and of whom few escaped to tell the tale.
And this is how she met that group of weirdos who found each others through the power of the plot's convenience; her last assignment was to steal the map from the Grand Line. There are not many, these kept safe and protected in large fortresses throughout the globe, and among all those that she could have tried to steal, she made the horrible decision of going for the one that was closest to her, encountering those three idiots in the crossfire of the disaster that unfolded in Shells Town.
How did she end up giving up the assignment and at that precise moment there, with them?  Simple: Luffy piqued her curiosity. And there are few things stronger than (Y/N)'s curiosity.
"Hey, I know you. I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town, you're the clown guy. Umm, uh… Binky, right?" Luffy exclaimed, as confident of himself as usual.
Buggy, she mentally corrected, arms crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes at the same time the clown corrected loudly and dramatically listed his many nicknames. Which she was sure, only he called himself.
''Wow, you have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are.” The audience gasp. There's confusion in the boy's face, and an almost psychopatic tic in the clown's one. ''What did you just say?'' Buggy asks lowly. ''Just that everyone knows who you are.'' Luffy repeats.
''Nose!? Are you making fun of my nose!?’’
Then came the slap, like the one someone usually gives when a friend is trying to steal their food or touch something they definitely shouldn't. Buggy is killing the straw hat boy with his eyes but the gesture is so… innocent.  She expected threats with knives, to be honest.
And because of the unexpected, she almost let a laugh escape in the form of a cough but she controlled herself fast enough to not grab unnecessary attention to her.
''What's real is...'' Buggy resumes the conversation, getting some distance with Luffy to walk around the rest too.  ’’I’ve been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe-Hand moron…’’ (Y/N) sees how he approaches her, but she didn't expect him to close the distance between each other so much, his nose almost touching her own, sharp blue eyes fixed on her from a slightly lower perspective. The truth is... that she also doesn't know how to tell if that nose is real or not, but now she really wants to touch it to find out. Dear God, what a realistic texture. It’s incredible.
Pressing her lips together in a contained expression as she shakes her head, she raises an eyebrow, letting him know that the joke wasn't as funny as he hoped, and he clucks, accepting defeat in such good humor that no one would say, that is a kidnapping and someone would end up dead by the end of the day.
She heard of him. His reward was not one of the highest but neither one of those that go unnoticed in the East Blue. He was also an eccentric, of course people talked about the blue-haired, red-nosed clown who terrified his victims in a macabre way. Those who survived ended up traumatized.
He is, or at least looks, younger than she imagined, and he fit right in with the urban legends of evil clowns kidnapping children and then dismembering them. She wonders, silently, thoughtful eyes scanning his face and body language from a distance, if this is some softie on the inside with high aspirations in life who was unfortunate enough to bump into someone who traumatized him and hence all this show and facade of the cruel and heartless clown -to protect himself as the good cliché he seems- or if, on the contrary, he is, simply and plainly, a yandere who craves attention no matter how he has to obtain it.
If she remembers correctly, there was also a rumor that he ate a devil fruit. Just like Luffy, which it doesn't take long for the clown to discover after Zoro tries to save the situation by showing off his reputation -obviously it doesn't work- and Nami does exactly what (Y/N) predicted. Not her fault, either, she doesn't owe any of them anything at all.
''Okay. Here ends the theatrics.’’ The lights go out and it’s then that everyone can small the disaster in the air. A chill runs down the back of (Y/N), who tends to infiltrate without being seen and avoids, whenever possible, a direct encounter; hand-to-hand combat is not exactly his specialty. And given the circumstances is impossible for her to know if the daggers she usually hides in the side of his combat boots -for emergencies like this one- are still there. ''I know one of you has my map, and I'm gonna get it back. What was it you said, Rubber Boy? That it was in a safe place?”
How long were they unconscious before? Enough to hijack the ship, get to land, and move 4 dead weight bodies to that circus, locking them in a box. By that point she would bet some member of the gang would have thoroughly searched the ship, and them too. Disgusting.
Buggy takes a last, attentive look at both Zoro and Nami, ruling out that one of the two has the map because when the girl tried to flee, Luffy was not shocked thinking that perhaps she would steal it from him. Which leaves the two of them, Luffy and her, alone with him.
''So, please'' the clown gestures to his subordinates with his head. ''make these two guests uncomfortable in the green room. I’m gonna have a chat with my stretchy new pal and…’’ His eyes jump to her, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity. ''this beauty that was incapable of taking her eyes off me.''
Fuck. Was it that obvious?
''Doll, you are the only one who hasn't opened your mouth yet and I don't think it's because you’re a shy little flower.'' He begins, circling around her like an animal hunting its prey, analyzing it, hoping to see a chink of weakness to attack. ''Are you bored?'' He asks almost in a whisper near her ear. ''Is that it? Are you so, so bored that you don't think it's worth enough interacting with the rest of us?'' Breaking away from her when he realizes she doesn't falter, he smiles a huge, threatening smile, looking her up and down in such a way that it almost makes her feel dirty. "Or maybe you're the one who has my map, and you're quiet to try not to attract /my/ attention."
She? The map? Wearing such tight pants and top? Yeah, maybe up her ass, but she's not the one who is going to tell him otherwise because if he, or one of his subordinates, comes to search her, she could take advantage of the opportunity to steal some sort of weapon from them.
In particular from Buggy; (Y/N) saw the knives he keeps in his coat and… she wouldn't mind taking a closer look at that interesting nose.
"Busted." She finally admits with a lopsided smile, raising both eyebrows when she sees the surprise on the clown's face. He didn't expect such a cocky response, did he? "I'm not the type of person who likes to attract attention, the spotlight is for others who are more... flashy." She pronounces it honeyedly, repeating the same nickname he used before, pointing at him with a gesture of her chin. "However, I'm not going to tell you where the map is. If you want to find it, come and search for it yourself."
Shrugging her shoulders, she stretches out both arms in a gesture that invites him to come closer. Bold, he thinks, more than pleased with this unexpected turn of events, taking some steps in her direction. She adds once more: "although I would be surprised if you hadn't already done it during the time we have been unconscious"
"Me?" He points at himself, stopping right in front of her. "Take advantage of a defenseless young lady?" He almost sounded offended if it wasn't for the shit eating grin and the eager way he was scanning her body now. "What kind of degenerate do you take me for?"
She scoffs, and Buggy, unsure, seems to consider -for some long seconds- whether or not to do the job himself, (Y/N) being too calm for how helpless she seems. But surely, he knows, she doesn't have any weapons on her; his subordinates were in charge, as she said, of searching all of them as soon as they were brought to the circus.
In the end he gives up, because he would be damned if he dared to refuse to thoroughly touch this mysterious woman who may, just may, have his map hidden somewhere. He strongly doubts it, tho.
Soon enough, he moves again, standing then behind her, and without asking permission, he doesn’t need it either, his hands start roaming her shoulders and sides slowly, making sure to feel anything weird between her clothes and the skin underneath. Like the fucking map, folded until it is nothing more than a small piece of paper easy to hide. 
Because that is the whole point of that scene, right?
"Go on, be my guest." she says sarcastically, trying to stay calm and breathe slowly, because (Y/N) likes to pretend to be made of stone, but not /that much/. The pressure of those gloves against her already tight clothes and the hungry way she knows those -green? blue? difficult to say with those circus lights- eyes are watching her every move make her heart beat a bit faster in something she’d call /the average amount of nervousness when a known, wanted pirate search for something we wants while threatening to kill you if he doesn’t find it/.
Buggy, on the other hand, is so engrossed in his task that his usual cocky smile has disappeared a few seconds ago; he is waiting to feel a change in the girl's body language to be able to guess if she has it or if, on the contrary, this search will be saved in his memory as no more than a small pleasurable pause after all the stress that the goddamn map is putting him through. Because he can't deny it, she's actually a beauty, and in other circumstances he wouldn't mind getting to know her in a funnier way. At all.
Inhaling deeply, wetting his red lips with his tongue, he lets the air out slowly, tilting his head to the side to see her better. He should hurry up and stop making that scene as intimate as it's becoming, audience and all, but he's a thorough man. Or that’s the excuse -explanation- he will give to whoever dares to ask.
"Where the hell did you hide my map?" He asks melodiously as he finishes searching her torso, his right hand starting to go a little lower, getting dangerously close to her hipbone when (Y/N)'s right hand flies up and catches his wrist between her fingers, stopping him dead in his tracks. She couldn't help it, she acted on autopilot, she is not ready to be the main character of a porn movie with audience included letting him roaming all around as he pleases. "Not between my legs, so keep lowering your hands and I'll cut them off." she threatens, turning her face to look at him standing behind her.
Right back, as if those words were magical or something, the huge, shit eating smile of his returns to the lips of the unstable clown, and without letting go, he makes her spin, facing her with both hands on her waist, strongly keeping her in place, sharp eyes fixed on her, and without realizing it, she stops breathing for a second. "You promise?" He whispers, pleads almost, in an amused, delighted tone of voice after such a threat. She was way interesting than he expected, not as shy or scared as an unarmed girl like her should be. He likes that. A lot.
However, he has -sadly- things to do and he did in fact, already lost time with her. His eyes betraying him the moment they land on the girl's lips, Buggy winks at her with a cocky expression and pulls away suddenly, raising both arms "Another disappointment, how many more can our audience endure? You’re the only one left, Rubber Boy, don't let me down." He points him, moving closer, while (Y/N) just stays there where he left her, wondering what the fuck just happened and why does her heart run so fast now.
Adrenaline, probably.
"Take her with the others" he ends up saying to a couple of members of his gang, to which she responds by moving on her own in the direction of where they have taken Zoro and Nami before, preventing them from guiding her by force and discovering the knife she stole from Buggy when he got so damn close to her, and which she secretly hid between the waistband of her pants and her shirt.
Risky, she could cut herself with the smallest movement at the least expected moment, but it was way worse to see herself unarmed.
Buggy, infatuated, takes one last look at her and, raising one hand, waves his fingers in the air with a huge smile on his face as he says goodbye to her.
"See you later, love."
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starstruckloverz · 6 months
Text
DID I MAKE YOU SCREAM?
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-ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙ ⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙ ⑅ˏ͛-ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ -
SUMMARY - How is Rafe Cameron, your sweet, loving, boyfriend, who seems to have done no wrong, the most wanted serial killer in the world?
WARNING - slight smut, fluff, arguing, Dark!Rafe, f!m
A/N - my first Tumblr post.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚
ACT I
A SCREAM echoed through the house.
Y/n sat on the leathered couch as she gripped her boyfriend's arm yet again, "it wasn't even that scary." Rafe sneered, laughing at his trembling girlfriend, "Yes it was!" she shouted, punching Rafe's arm harshly, "Can you change it now?" Y/n questions, but he refused, "I did not pay 30 dollars to watch Nun 2 just for you to tell me to change it." he argued, Y/n pouted, trying to find his lack of sympathy, "Are you trying to kill me?" Rafe frowns, "I would never." he responds, relaxing his body.
Rafe pushed a piece of hair out of Y/n's face as he gracefully rubbed the index of her warm cheek, "you'll be the death of me Y/n L/n." he stated, watching as her face turned a bright shade of red. His eyes softened as she gripped his arm, pushing his arm down so she could get a better chance at connecting their lips.
"Mmm." he hummed through the kiss, although when she pulled back, all she could find was a blushed-out Rafe Cameron. "How about, we don't watch the movie and.." she started, trailing her finger down his stomach, "Maybe go upstairs to your room?" Rafe sneered, rolling his eyes vastly "Nice try Y/n, were not missing the movie." Rafe motioned himself to kiss her again but she turned her head away.
He chuckled it off, but it kinda hurt inside. Rafe placed his hand on her back, pulling her big shirt all the way up to her shoulders just so he could cress her skin with his fingernails softly. Y/n stuck her head inside Rafe's chest, unable to watch the next jump scare that would happen.
Rafe trailed his hand all the way up her spine, then back down and onto her curves, "Ow!" Y/n shouted, pushing her face out of Rafe's chest in a swift move. "What?" he asked, unsure whether he did something wrong or not. "Watch the hands, Mister, you hurt me," she told, showing Rafe a huge scar that was on her side.
He gave her a confused stare, "Where did you get this from?" he questioned, touching it so gently, trying hard not to harm her. "Remember when I was at the haunted house? well, I kind of ran into..." That's when it hit him. Rafe knew exactly what she was talking about.
Ghostface crept out the corner, grabbing his next victim, the room was dark, and he knew that Y/n was safe at home, or at least that's what he thought. He gripped Y/n so tightly that she could barely breathe. She tried to scream, be he had already shoved the tip of the knife so far up her hip.
Rafe knew that he'd regretted that decision for the rest of his life. Not long after He got a call from the hospital, saying that his girlfriend got into an 'accident' he told her not to go, knowing this would have happened. If only she had listened.
"I'm so sorry Y/n," Rafe spoke, apologizing. "why? you didn't do this to me," Y/n declared, kissing his cheek, then pushing herself off of him and walking her way to the kitchen. "Yeah... I know, but I'm your boyfriend, I should've been there to protect you ya know?"
"You did protect me, you told me not to go, and you made It very stated as if you knew that psycho killer would've been there." Y/n giggled, pouring herself some glass of water that came from the fridge. "You my own little psychic," Rafe scrunched his face, "Yeah, and from now on, you gonna listen to me when I tell you not to go anywhere, like Toppers party, for example,"
Y/n vastly lifted her head, her eyes wide open, "But it's a Halloween party, Rafe, I bought a costume just for it." She groaned, irritated and upset, "Y/n, you not going," Rafe's voice engaged, turning loud, "You're not my dad Rafe Cameron, and plus, Ghostface hasn't been seen since last year," Rafe rolled his eyes, he already knew that trust me, however, its more of the guys, he doesn't want anybody looking at Y/n especially Kelce, he had a thing for Y/n before Rafe and she even started going out.
"No means no." "This is such Bullshit."
Rafe made his way to his girlfriend, kissing her forehead, "Wouldn't you rather spend your night soaking in a bubble bath?" He questioned, holding his girlfriend's cheek with the index of his palm. "No," Y/n stated, pushing his hand off her cheek, and making her way to the couch, "Cmmon babe, you know I hate when you're mad at me." she only rolled her eyes in response.
"Please, I promise I'll make it up to you." Rafe gripped her shoulders, rubbing them as he leaned in to kiss her soft neck, Y/n let out a soft whimper, biting her lip as she leaned her head back, creating more room for his lips. "Please?" he asked again, finding her soft spot, Y/n could feel her legs going numb, and her heart racing out of her chest.
"Pretty please." Rafe then made his way to the front kissing her chest lightly, "fine," Y/n said, smiling at him as their eyes met, Rafe smirked evilly, grabbing her from the bottom of her thighs and picking her up from the floor. Y/n made a little squalling sound as he pushed her up against the cold wall.
Y/n pulled Rafe by the neck into a kiss, as their lips collided they moved in sync, he kissed her so roughly it was as if she was the last thing he'd ever eat, Y/n started tugging at his greasy curtain bang hair as she moaned into his mouth.
Rafe pressed up Y/n rinding on her as she was helpless against the wall, her legs still in the air, Y/n gasped at the feeling, Rafe's boner was pushing against her core harshly.
"Room." Y/n managed to get out, the overstimulation was bearable but still harsh, Rafe nodded, taking her back off the wall and walking up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.
˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . °
ACT II
...
Y/n was obviously not gonna listen to Rafe, especially after they had sex, I mean common now, does he think she's naive, or easily tricked. Y/n stood in the mirror, looking at herself.
She had a stupid sexy prison guard costume, Rafe was supposed to be her prisoner, but I guess he didn't care to show up with her, he still didn't know that she was even there in the first place.
"Hey!" Sarah Hollard from the other side of the room, making her way toward y/n, "Hey," she replied, "Where's Rafe?" Sarah then asked, confused, "he... couldn't make it," Sarah could taste the tension, she saw that Y/n wasn't happy, and normally she would just leave it because she knew her brother would be there to save the day, but it felt different, it wasn't the same.
Y/n carried her red cup in her hand, Sarah's face lightened, and the song Gasolina started playing on the speakers, basically blasting through the whole house, a grin came upon the two girls' faces, considering the fact that the song was there.
"Common, let's get you out of this corner and have some fun." Sarah tugged on the girl's costume, pulling her to the dance floor, Y/n gave Sarah a waring look, putting her cup on the table as the Cameron girl basically dragged her to the middle of the room.
As they reached the middle, Y/n was surrounded by unknown people, somewhere making out on the couch others were just taking shots from clear glass cups. Bottles of fireball and vodka filled the kitchen tables while beer cans filled the floor.
Y/n danced with Sarah to the music, swaying her hips back and forth in a swift motion as she ran her fingers through her hair, "I missed you." Sarah said yelled over the music, trying to make sure her voice was loud enough for her to hear.
"I miss you too," Y/n shouted back, giggling. The blue and purple light flickered veraciously as the two danced with one another, everything felt in slow motion, she healed onto Sarah, laughing historically.
"What happened with you and Rafe?" "He couldn't make it," Y/n answered.
Sarah stopped her moving, completely going still, "that's weird." Sarah started, biting the bottom of her lip as she made her way to her red cup, chugging it down in one sip.
"What?" Y/n questioned, raising an eyebrow, Sarah looked hesitant, she looked at Y/n and just shook her head, "Sarah what is it." Y/n asked again, this time her voice was louder, she knew something was up, and it wasn't good news, "I'm probably seeing shit but, I swear I saw Rafe hanging out with Topper by the pool." Y/n shook her head, laughing at the fact.
Rafe couldn't be here, he told Y/n he was gonna stop by her house after the gym. Except, Rafe doesn't work out at the gym, he works out at Topper's house. Rafe wouldn't lie to Y/n, would he?
Y/n shrugged it off, remembering that she had already checked her GPS, he was at home, "Rafe's at your guy's house, I already checked." Sarah raised an eyebrow, confused as always, Sarah decided to try and change the subject, just in case she was wrong.
"uh fuck him, he couldn't even show up for his girlfriend, then he's a piece of shit," Y/n cringed, that stung a little because she knew that Rafe changed his frat boy ways just to be with her and he barely parties, plus Y/n hadn't seen him drink since that incident when he got into a fight with some guy and ended up getting jumped.
"Its alright," Y/n said, trying to set some ease to the conversation, "Who needs boys," Sarah yelled, chugging down the rest of her cup of beer and grabbing the nearest girl she saw, and kissing the living shit out of her, Y/n stood there, in shock.
Sooner or later Y/n couldn't stand the sight of her friend making out with a random person, she thought they would've stopped already, I guess not. "Sarah I'm just...gonna go," Obviously Sarah was too drunk to comprehend that she wasn't making out with her boyfriend John B.
As Y/n walked away she felt eyes on her, and it wasn't the type that was checking her out, it felt like their eyes were staring into her soul, pricing it roughly, that's when she got that feeling, that unsure feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to walk away, but it was almost like it was following her every move.
Y/n rolled her eyes as she pushed through the crowd, shoving everybody, she was about to get sick, and Y/n rushed, the light glowing blurry, as everybody's voice was screaming it echoed through her head, giving her a massive migraine.
"Fuck," Y/n swore, pushing her hair that was sticking up down with her hand. A scream. Somebody screamed. And now, Everybody screamed. As y/n pushed her head up to see what was causing the commotion she met Kelece, except, his throat was slit, and he was stabbed at least 5 times in the stomach. Y/n threw up everywhere.
She looked back up, watching as his blood started spilling everywhere, and standing above the body was.... Ghostface, Y/n was so close, it was almost an inch away from the crime scene. Y/n screamed, Loudly, Ghostface looked up vastly to meet eyes with the girl.
"Y/n?" the unknown voice said, however, it wasn't so unknown anymore, Y/n knew that voice from anywhere, she knew exactly who that sounded like, however, as she looked up she didn't want to believe it, how can her sweet loving boyfriend, be a killer, especially murdering one of his closes friends.
Y/n's eyes widen, she was in shock, and not the good kind, was Rafe Cameron, the boy that she had known since she was three secretly the masked killer, the boy who made her flowers from paper because he spent all his money on designer bags that Y/n doesn't even use.
The boy who calls her mommy to try and get her turned on because he wants her so bad, the boy who basically craves her taste on his lips early in the morning.
Rafe Cameron, Y/n's Rafe Cameron.
As she looked up she found herself wishing to god that if she looked at her GPS he was still at home and she was just overthinking, as Y/n rushed out the door she found herself cramming through her phone, she went on Life360, pressing on Rafe's location.
Rafe Camerons current location 453 Brooklyn Street. Aka, Toppers address.
Y/n dropped her phone, so when Sarah said that she saw him, she actually meant it, all the goodness and the things that Y/n thought about him went out the door, that day, at the haunted house, Rafe told her not to go, the room was dark, and he grabbed ahold of Y/n stabbing her, however when the light finally turned back on, Ghostface saw Y/n's face and Ran.
Everything was starting to make sense, it wasn't so messy anymore, it was all Rafe Cameron, her boyfriend, she's dating a fucking serial killer.
...
ACT III
Y/n walked through the doors of her house, still traumatized as tears streamed down her face, Kelce was a dick, but he was also a good person, most of the time, actually, nevermind, he was a person, and that was all that matters.
She threw her keys on the island, making her way to the kitchen to grab herself a cup of water, that headache still acing his skull. "Y/n thank god you're safe," Rafe Cameron said, grabbing her by the waist. Y/n quickly threw him off, "Rafe, don't fucking touch me, I know." Y/n told, pointing her finger in front of his face.
Rafes worried look quickly vanished, "Are you scared?" He questioned, his tone growing dark and mysterious. "n..No," Y/n says, her voice trembling in fear.
" Good, because I love you Y/n, and I would never hurt you." "your not even gonna deny it?" "Why would I ever lie to you?"
Y/n rolled her eyes, "Why?" she asked, her voice cracking, everything Rafe was to her, all the goodness was gone, and all that was left was the darkness. "I'm doing it for you," Rafe answered, Y/n didn't say anything, her face downgraded as she backed up the closer her boyfriend got.
"Bullshit, how could killing people help me?" Rafe made a noise, it sounded like a laugh, however, it wasn't, "That night, at the haunted house, I heard those girls, the girls you thought were your friends, they were talking about you, saying that you're a slut, and a whore." Y/n shook her head, in disbelief.
"I couldn't let them get away with that."
Y/n's back hits the wall, giving her no room to move back from him, "And Kelce, I heard what he did, he was groping you, why didn't you tell me?" He questioned, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear as his tone got softer, and he noticed that she was trembling.
"Because I knew you would overreact, and I was so right, he was drunk Rafe, and he apologized saying that he didn't mean to...touch me without consent." Tears streamed through her eyes, remembering the eye-flashing sight of his blood spilling out of her throat.
"See what's where you're wrong, he was planning on doing stuff to you, I saw his text message on his phone, he was gonna rig your drink."
He said, kissing her forehead lightly, "So you kill him?!" Y/n asks, shouting at him, "Yes! you make me so crazy Y/n L/n that I would literally kill for you."
Rafe backs up, watching his now crying girlfriend as tears stain her rushed cheeks, her massacre ruined, Rafe then bends down, his knees touching the floor, "But, that night at the haunted house, you...you stabbed me, Rafe,"
"I told you not to go, Im so sorry Y/n, Im so, so so sorry." Rafe grabbed her hands, kissing her fingers one by one, praising her, not wanting to let her go, "There isn't a line, in this world, that I wouldn't cross for you," he cried, Rafe Cameron cried.
"I want to spend every minute with you Y/n L/n, I want you, all the time, every day, every hour, every minute, every second." Rafe then began kissing her arm, all the way up to her shoulder then back down.
"Will you marry me?"
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tweetracer · 9 months
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Hi! I saw you wanted some barbie prompts so I had a idea.
What if Ken meets someone in the real world and he instantly found them attractive, they end up complimenting him which makes him want them even more to where he forgets the whole patriarchy ordeal and just wants them to love him because they didn’t just ignore him.
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💖 Meeting RG!Ken in the Real World 💖
(RG!Ken x Human!Reader)
💖 SO YOU DEFINITELY MEET THIS GUY WHILE HE’S IN DAVY CROCKETT MIDDLE SCHOOL’S LIBRARY. You’ve been working there a few months as a librarian and while it wasn’t exactly your passion it was something that filled your schedule and kept half-decent food on the kitchen table so you wouldn’t complain.
💖 “Hi! Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section?” The cheerful voice made you look up from where you were hunched over at the painfully old computer- double checking that all of the due books had been checked in.
💖 “Excuse me?” You said, completely flabbergasted by both the words and looks of the man who stood opposite your desk. He was tall; with golden blonde hair and sun-kissed skin he would be strikingly handsome were it not for the ridiculous cowboy outfit he was donned in. (Who were you kidding? He was still ridiculously attractive even with the costume).
💖 “Would you point me in the direction of the Horses and Patriarchy section of this library” he repeated with another charming smile, leaning forwards to rest his chin in his hands.
💖 “That’s…” you started slowly, brows furrowed in a way that made his chest feel weird and tingly. “We don’t have a section for Horses and the Patriarchy.” You explained as gently as you could, eyeing around in hopes of finding the poor excuse for a security officer that usually took his lunch in here despite the obvious ‘no eating in the library’ signs posted around.
💖 The man’s handsome face wilted a bit and for a moment you felt a little guilty for not being able to indulge his ridiculous request. “Oh! Silly me- could you point me in the direction of the Horse Section first? I’ll go to the Patriarchy section after” He said, chipper once again.
💖 “We… don’t have a just Horses section either..” you said again, watching as the man seemed to actually wither, crumbling forwards till his head was against the cold wood of your work desk.
💖 “Do you have a Patriarchy section?” He whimpered, looking up at you from where he’d half collapsed dramatically against your desk- blue eyes glassy and filled with so so much emotion considering the circumstances.
💖 When you shook your head he nearly wailed, sinking further till he was almost entirely on the floor- fringe out of place and hat askew. You stood up to peer over your desk, looking down at the handsome man near-crying on your library floor.
💖 You glanced around, thankfully it was lunchtime for the kids so almost everyone was outside enjoying the sunny Los Angeles afternoon, leaving your room mostly empty. You gnawed on your lips nervously for a few moments before making a decision.
💖 “I can help you find some books on horses though.. and the patriarchy?” You offered, not entirely sure what you were getting yourself into as he jumped up, smiling eagerly and leaning forwards till his face was a few inches away from yours.
💖 “You’d do that for me?” He said with so much awe and amazement you’d think you offered to hang the stars for him.
💖 “…Yeah?” It was your job after all, even if this man was definitely not a student or staff member as far as you knew. Maybe he was a substitute teacher (yeah… right)
💖 But the way his whole face lit up joyfully at something as small as helping him find books made your heart give a little skip in your chest.
💖 You guide him around, pointing out a few books that were somewhat relevant (though he really only seemed interested in grabbing the ones with lots of pictures). Standing next to him you noticed he… really didn’t have a sense of personal space- the man would lean close everytime you spoke up to offer your help in locating relevant books, big baby-blue eyes staring into yours as he hung on to every word you said, nodding enthusiastically.
💖 You felt your cheeks and ears warm go warm at all the attention, occasionally stumbling on a word or two and chewing on your lip nervously between sentences- eyes darting around to anything but the absolute ray of sunshine in front of you.
💖 “Why are you doing that?” He asked innocently, leaning forwards into your space again with only the flimsy spine of Horses, by Ryan Bessin to protect you.
💖 “Doing what?” You said, trying to sound collected and professional though your gaze was still elsewhere, skimming over the names and authors. You jumped a little when you felt him reach out to gently prod at your lip, freeing it from the grasp of your teeth.
💖 “You’re chewing on your lip” he started, unconsciously mirroring the action on his own face. His blue eyes were focused so intensely on your lips and he felt that weird flutter in his chest again. What was that? A side effect of the real world?
💖 “Oh sorry I do that when I’m” you waved your hand vaguely for a moments, waiting till he finally looked away from your mouth to meet your gaze. “Nervous.”
💖 His head tilted in confusion and you were unable to look at him and not see an absolutely adorable, floppy-eared golden retriever puppy. “You’re nervous? Why?” He sounded so genuine and you swear to god he needed to stop looking at you with so much kindness and interest or you may just explode.
💖 “You’re just” you grip tight to the book, “-you’re very… handsome” (and intense) you started again, cheeks warming even more when his face seemed to light up like the Fourth of July- a huge grin splitting his face. “I think there’s another book that might interest you over here!” Frantically you change the subject, thrusting the book forwards and trying (and failing) not to notice just how solid his abs were.
💖 He followed you eagerly, still smiling at you with those weirdly perfect teeth and that shamelessly attentive expression. “Thank you so much, Barbie!”
💖 You looked over your shoulder at him, bewildered. “That’s? Not my name?” You said with a confused but genuine smile. Was it supposed to be some type of weird compliment?
💖 The man blinked, baffled for a few moments before he seemed to remember something. “Oh! Sorry! Force of habit” he laughed, looking bashful as he fingered the pages of the book he held.
💖 (And you definitely didn’t let your gaze slip to those deft, elegant looking hands. Broad and masculine but spared any callous or freckle- his tanned skin nearly perfect)
💖 “So… why exactly are you looking for books on the Patriarchy and Horses?”
💖 He blinked a few times at your question, looking down at the books in his arms as though he’d forgotten they were there for a moment. His smile brightened marginally, and he picked up one of the books at random- The Origins of Patriarchy, waving it loosely in front of your face. “Oh! So I’m learning about this super awesome thing called The Patriarchy”
💖 He almost immediately noticed the slight downward tilt of your lips- and the resulting twist in his chest was not like the fluttering sensations from earlier. No this was… icky- this feeling was unpleasant (something he didn’t actually have a lot of context for) and all he could think of was getting that look off of your face as fast as possible.
💖 “But- uh that’s beside the point!” As flippantly as possible he tosses the book over his shoulder with a bashful laugh. You winced, knowing you’d have to put that up later, but the man didn’t seem to notice; too busy looking at you with those big blue eyes and leaning against the bookshelf.
💖 “O-Okay?” You said, blinking rapidly at him as you chewed nervously on your lip again, trying not to squirm under the pure fascination in his gaze, completely unaware of the rapidly shifting priorities of the man in front of you.
💖 “Oh my name is Ken! Hey- what size rollerblades do you wear by the way?”
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silkjade · 6 months
Text
& IF WE’RE ALL DRESSED UP, THEY MIGHT AS WELL BE LOOKING AT US
featuring— neuvillette x reader ⤀ warnings: implied fem!reader, nothing specific + no pronouns mentioned ⤀ summary: making your debut as a couple at the hallow's eve ball a/n: wrote this last minute but i'm in one of the latest timezones, so happy halloween ! (written before 4.2 aq)
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"furina might be upset if we steal her spotlight tonight," you mutter, fingers nervously straightening the cravat resting at neuvillette's neck for the nth time tonight.
"let her be upset then. it’s not a storm i haven’t weathered before," he replies, wrapping his hands around yours before lowering them back down to your sides. he's sure you've fixed his cravat to be more than perfect already.
"yes, but garnering our archon's contempt isn't exactly something off my bucket list..."
a low hum ripples in his throat as he tilts is head in earnest trepidation. "are you having second thoughts?"
you shake your head—absolutely not. a secret relationship is no easy feat, much less one with someone as high profile as neuvillette, who in spite of his distaste for lingering within the public eye, is still often thrust into the spotlight by those hoping for a glimpse into the chief justice’s private life.
"just a little nervous I guess," you breathe.
to reveal the nature of your relationship, is a decision you've made as a united front. the gossip columns of the steambird already run rampant with thinly veiled monikers, and there's not much either of you can do when an 'honorable monsieur n' is once again spotted with a 'mystery someone'.
it'd open the floodgates to an onslaught of curiosities, but neuvillette would have the city be his witness, for though he still has much to learn about the ins and outs of human nature, he knows for a fact that his entire heart is yours. so whilst no authority in this land can truly stop the peoples' whispers, if fontaine wishes to talk, they can do so on your terms, without the threat scandal.
before the two of you, stands a pair of large double doors; the only thing between you and focalor's hallows eve ball, the only shelter from the costumed elite of fontainian society who's predatory eyes would land on you the second you step past the threshold.
to your left, neuvillette stands with an arm behind his back, a perfect gentleman costumed in the finest fabrics, the gold metal details glinting under the chandelier's light. with a deep breath, you straighten as you exhale, carrying the weight of your own matching costume with a dignity befitting of the iudex's lover.
coppelia and coppelius, two individual entities, who when together, waltzes amidst a flurry of ice and wind, persevering through any storm. gingerly, you take his outstretched hand, nodding as the doors creak open.
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a/n2: tbh i only wrote this cus i thought coppelia & coppelius would be a super cool couples costume HAHA anways thanks for reading, and as always, reblogs + feedback are super appreciated ^^
© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform
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astroboots · 10 months
Text
Every You Every Me Issue #3
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader
Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.
Word count: 5,500 words.
Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.
Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist
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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.
Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 
Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 
As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.
You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?
Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.
Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.
Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.
Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 
As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.
There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.
Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?
If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.
So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?
That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?
You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 
Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 
With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:
‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’
You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.
There's nothing else to do but to wait. 
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You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.
There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.
You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.
Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.
That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.
You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?
You did.
You're sure you did.
He must’ve been here.
Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.
Right?
Your eyes flicker back to the window.
Or maybe you did close the window?
You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?
It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...
You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.
Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?
You did.
Yes, you definitely did.
Which means, he was here... Right?
You feel like you are going insane.
Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?
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You decide on a redo.
Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.
A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 
You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.
As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.
The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 
Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.
This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 
If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 
This note didn’t work. 
It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 
You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 
The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 
That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 
You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!
$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 
How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.
Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.
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When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.
The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.
On the left side this time, you note. 
It doesn’t look like he came. 
The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.
Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.
There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.
The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.
He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.
You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.
On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.
YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!
You were right.
Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.
He was here!
(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).
You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 
There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.
In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.
He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 
On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.
His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.
Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?
You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 
He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 
Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 
He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.
It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  
The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.
Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.
To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.
Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.
He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.
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Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.
You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.
Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.
The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.
You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.
Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.
But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 
The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.
As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 
So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).
Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 
There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.
He does however eat three of your cookies this time.
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You get a little bit more desperate after that.
You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.
The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.
It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.
The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 
More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.
But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.
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You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 
The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.
In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.
By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.
There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.
Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.
Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.
Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).
His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.
Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 
He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 
Oh, he's worried.
He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 
The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.
The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 
He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 
You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.
He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 
It leaves you with more questions than ever.
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Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.
You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.
You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.
Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.
Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.
With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.
Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.
Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.
You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.
What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?
That's crazy!
…Right?
But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.
Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.
You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 
A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.
There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 
A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 
"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 
You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.
Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.
When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.
Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.
From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 
But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 
You want to see him again. 
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It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.
The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.
It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.
Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)
The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 
Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.
It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.
The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.
Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 
Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.
It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.
After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.
As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.
Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.
That would be a real dick move.
You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.
Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.
Then you stay there.
One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 
Five. Six. Seven.
A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.
Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.
If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.
You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.
Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.
"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"
You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.
There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.
He’s calling your name.
The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.
Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.
Again.
Fuck!
~ Next Issue
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Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.
I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!
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A/n: u guys r gonna have to imagine alot w these pics 😭 but i wrote whos supposed to be who so it makes a bit more sense!!!!! THIS ONLY MAKES SENSE IF YOU READ THE FIRST BIT
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y/n_y/l/n
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Liked by 3,308,252 people
Prepare for the ‘Anastasia’ photo dump 😈
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tomblyth: yummy cake 🍰😋
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: i'm craving it so bad rn 🤤
user1: THE MOVIE WAS SO GOOD WTAF
user2: Y/n and Tom's on screen chemistry is insane...
user3: her smile in the second picture 🥹
user4: empress Marie was a slay
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: she honestly was
~
y/n_y/l/n
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Liked by 2,920,163 people
this is what we gotta say to those who haven’t watched Anastasia yet 🖕🖕🖕 (we’re kidding)
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user1: how was filming in St. Petersburg??
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: had the best time of my life 🙈 St. Petersburg is so gorgeous.
user2: yesss feed us w more Anastasia bts please!!!
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: yes ma’am 🫡
↘️ user3: BAHAHHAHAAH
user4: everyone go watch Anastasia rn. It’s a masterpiece😟
user5: she’s so gorgeous it’s not fair
~
y/n_y/l/n
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Liked by 3,027,496 people
pics of me eating the most 21st century food in my 20th century fits 😋‼️
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tomblyth: fun fact, I took ALL of these
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: 😂😂😂
user1: this is so funny to me LMAO
user2: the fits 🤌
↘️ user3: THEY WERE EVERYTHING!
user4: so this is what u guys do behind the scenes? eating?
↘️ tomblyth: yup.
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: pretty much!!
~
tomblyth
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‘Anastasia’ out now in the cinemas!!!! So incredibly grateful to have worked with such amazing and talented people, experiencing it with y/n made it even better 💗
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y/n_y/l/n: i’m tearing up…. It was so much fun, I’m going to miss everything about it 💔
↘️ tomblyth: gonna miss seeing u in ur costume 🥹 you looked absolutely gorgeous
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: awee I love u!!!!
↘️ user1: my parents r so adorable 😣
user2: third pic is everything!
user3: they did so good with the casting!
~
y/n_y/l/n
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Liked by 3,947,028 people
St. Petersburg weather was smth else 🥶
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actorwhoplaysrasputin: it wasn’t even that cold y/n 🙄
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: says the person who wore 4 jackets in between takes 😟
↘️ actorwhoplaysrasputin: zip it.
↘️ user1: I love this duo 😂
actorwhoplaysphlegmenkoff: it was a pleasure to work with such young, talented actors like yourselves!!!
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: awee thank you actors name!! It was an honour to work with you!!
↘️ tomblyth: appreciate it man 🤝
user2: them casting actors name as Rasputin was the best decision ever. Can’t see anyone else for that role!
user3: this movie had such iconic actors and actresses 😭
↘️ user4: I just know this movie was expensive 😃
~
y/n_y/l/n
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Liked by 4,307,287 people
Anastasia dump pt. 2974822? 😂
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user1: FIRST PIC HAHAHAHA
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: felt xtra cute so I had to 😛
↘️ user2: Tom not looking amused in the back 🤣
↘️ tomblyth: I’m used to it
actorwhoplaysvladimir: miss you guys!!!
↘️ tomblyth: you act as if we don’t live in the same street 🤣
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: literally walk the few steps and you’ll see us lol
user3: I can’t wait for more of your bts vids to come out on yt bc man they’re so entertaining!!
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I’m posting a 30 min bts vlog tomorrow 😙
↘️ user4: YAYYY
↘️ user5: y/n has a yt channel and I haven’t heard about it?
↘️ user6: she’s had it since she was in high school 😭
~
tomblyth
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Liked by 6,958,212 people
Can’t believe ‘Anastasia’ has been nominated for best film adaptation of books!!! Thank you everyone who voted :)
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y/n_y/l/n: THIS IS INSANEE AHHHH
↘️ tomblyth: 🥳🎉
themichaellockshin: 🤩🤩
actorwhoplaysnicholas: hell yeah!!
user1: they’re so cute omg 🥺
user2: actresswhoplaysdowagermarie is such a slay 😭
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: she literally is!
↘️ tomblyth: we love her!
↘️ user2: ahhh you both responded 😭
~
themichaelockshin
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Cheers again for the love and support for this movie!! To all the cast members I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are all such talented people and it was wonderful working with you all!
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y/n_y/l/n: thank you Michael ❤️ will never forget this experience :)
↘️ themichaelockshin: you and Tom were spectacular 🤩
tomblyth: what a journey we went through!
actorwhoplaysrasputin: miss you all!
actorwhoplaysolga: thank you Michael!! Filming with you all was a wonderful experience 🫶
user1: ice cream during the winter?
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: yup. What abt it 😛
user2: awe I love this cast sm
↘️ user3: literally the best cast
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zeldasnotes · 4 months
Text
Synastry Analysis: Gypsy Rose Blanchard & Nicholas Godejohn
18+
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of m*rder, r*pe, abuse.
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(No birthtime for him)
His Lilith conjunct Her Ascendant: When a mans Lilith touches a womans personal planets or points he will be VERY into her. This will draw out a dark side of both individuals and make them have a very bad influence on eachother. ”Nick was so in love with her and so obsessed with her that he would do anything” says one article.
His Sun in her 8th house: Their relationship was very sexual and he even introduced her to bdsm. They meet at the movie theater to see the 2015 Cinderella movie, but end up having sex in the bathroom instead. He took her virginity and as Ive mentioned before we often have 8th house synastry with the person who takes our virginity. Their relationship was surrounded by darkness and revolved around 8th house themes: sex & death. 8th house according to ME shows someone whos our first with a lot not only sex because with this energy you will do stuff you wont do with others. He was the first one she confided in that she can actually walk.
His Moon in her 2nd house: 2nd house is a fixed house so it creates a very strong bond. + his moon being in scorpio so when he is into someone he is VERY into them. With his Moon conjunct Dejanira he is definitely weak when it comes to women and probably have a history of trauma himself. Moon 2nd house can make someone very devoted to someone bc 2nd house is a very stubborn house. 2nd house energy doesnt like to let go.
His Prey(6157) conjunct her Sun: Prey in synastry very often shows a relationship where one person prey on another. In this case it was both of them because she was trying to get him to kill for her and he wanted to r*pe her. ”In Mommy Dead and Dearest, Gypsy Rose also spoke on her relationship with Nick disclosing that he had raped her the night of her mother’s death. “I made a deal with him. I'd let him rape me and then he wouldn't do that to my mom,” she said after Nick allegedly tried to have sex with her mother’s corpse.”
His Valentine(447) conjunct her Jupiter: ”I was blindly in love. That was always very much the case,” he said, according to The Springfield News-Leader. 
His Psyche(16) conjunct her Moon: Psyche conjunct Moon shows a deep and unique relationship between two people. This is like ”the” bonding aspect according to me. With this aspect the Psyche person understands and feels for the moon person. Its also common between people who have been through similar things. Both of them were two very isolated people who happened to find eachother.
Her Neptune Opposite his Mars: They created a fantasy world together. ”Godejohn referred to his “evil side” because he and Gypsy had constructed an elaborate online fantasy life, mostly through a jigsaw puzzle of Facebook accounts. They were into BDSM imagery. They had specific names and roles for each other. They took pictures of themselves in costumes, Gypsy dressing up at one point as the comic book character Harley Quinn, posing with a knife. Reality and fantasy blended quite a lot, for both of them.”
Neptune also shows deception which he definitely experienced. He definitely thought the love between them was deeper than it actually was. ”Nick was “destroyed” by Gypsy’s decision to place most of the blame for her mother’s death on him.”
Gypsy's Natal Chart Analysis:
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Nessus(7066) conjunct Ascendant: She suffered abuse through her childhood and teens and the abuse(Nessus) had to do with her body(Ascendant).
Dejanira in the 8th house: She was sexually abused by her grandfather. Dejanira at 21°(sagittarius degree) and jupiter is said to rule grandparents.
Libra Rising: Libra Risings can make someone very passive and spmeone who wants others to do the dirty work. Getting others to fight for them is something Ive seen a lot with this placement. Libra Risings are also relationship people and she found a partner who she married while still in prison.
Paine and Karma in the 10th house: Paine & Karma in the 10th house is common in the charts of people whos painful experiences are out there for everybody to see.
Rip in Libra and at 19°: A partner killed for her.
Fama in the 8th house: She became famous for 8th house themes.
Lilith in the 4th house: Lilith in our chart often show where we meet dark energies that affects us deeply and she did in her home and with her mother. The one supposed to protect her was instead the one to do the complete opposite. Her home was her hell.
Neptune 4th house: Decieved for most of her childhood. A childhood where every word she was told and her whole existence was a lie. This placement also shows a mother whos delulu.
Sado in the 4th house conjunct Moon: Her mother was sadistic. ”Dee Dee was sadistic in her methods — she shaved Gypsy's hair, alleging that she had leukemia, and got her teeth pulled out.””During the trial, Gypsy testified that her mother used to beat her and chained her to a bed.”
Moon Square Pluto: Moon Square Pluto is common in the charts of people who have a very problematic mother. It also shows a controlling mother which her mother was. “She controlled every aspect of my life,” Gypsy told the jury. Moon in Aquarius shows an emotionally detached mother.
11th house stellium: A LOT of fans and attention on media which is very common with Jupiter and Venus in the 11th house. ”Upon her release from prison, fans have been obsessed with Gypsy Rose’s story, empathizing with her as a victim. The Missouri native has over 6 million followers on TikTok and Instagram. Although Blanchard had an Instagram account before her release, she gained millions of supporters with her “first selfie of freedom” IG post that attracted over 6 million likes.”
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