angelicfoole

[angelicfoole]

Rachel Zegler — The 97th Annual Academy Awards

[angelicfoole]

[angelicfoole]

RACHEL ZEGLER

For Vogue México (March 2025)

[angelicfoole]

i finally realized that not even a million tears falling on the bathroom floor will bring you back to me.

[angelicfoole]

❝ no need to be so FORMAL, scum. you can call me THE HUNTRESS– after all, you ARE my prey. . . & I ALWAYS GET WHAT I HUNT. ❞

indie writing blog for HELENA WAYNE from dc, made from my own headcanons & crossover, oc friendly. dc, fandomless and other verses available.

[angelicfoole]

“well,  can you explain it to me then?   you’re basically gambling with your own life,  and what for?”   there’s no malice in juliet’s voice,  but her tone’s dripping with confusion.   dark brows furrowed as doe-like hues continue to study brian’s visage.

❝ do you understand how little sense that makes? ❞

"When you've spent half your life doing what I do then it makes complete and total sense."

[angelicfoole]

My muse playfully steals a bite of your muse’s food, then grins as they lock eyes.

“ oh,  if my mom could see me now,  she’d be so disgusted,”   juliet laughs,  the thought surprisingly thrilling.   around her parents,  she’s the perfect daughter —   straight A’s,  all sweet smiles and polite conversations.   but when she’s with @cosmicfoole,  she gets to be her true self.   a free spirit,  with a rebellious gleam in her eye,  hungry for adventure.   converse-clad feet stretched out in front of her,  crossed at the ankles as they rest on the dashboard.   passenger’s seat pushed back as far as it will go,  all windows rolled down to let in the warm breeze.   munching on the hot dog that she insisted on getting from a food truck near the beach,  the tang of mustard and the warmth of the bun filling her senses.   “ mm,  it’s so good!”   as she reaches for a napkin to clean the corners of her mouth,  her boyfriend leans in and,  without a warning,  steals a bite.   her eyes widening in playful shock as she catches him,  bursting into laughter because who could be mad at this grinning golden retriever?   “excuse me?   you said you didn’t want any!   said you weren’t hungry at all!”   the tension of their structured,  orchestrated universes melting away,  the simplest of moments nothing short of perfect.   “ typical montague behavior,”   she jokingly retorts,  handing him the bun so he can take another bite,   “you’re an uncultured thief,  romeo.”

[angelicfoole]

juliet could talk about her own complicated situationship for days,  but doesn’t want to make this evening about herself.   she’d rather focus on the reason why she came here in the first place —   her best friend’s broken heart.   it really needs some mending.   “her beauty?   not to be mean,  but she’s so…   average.   she has nothing on you,  poppy.”   manicured fingertips brushing a dark curl behind her ear,  offering the other a gentle smile.   her right hand lingering on her friend’s knee,  squeezing sympathetically.   “there’s something i don’t understand here.   if they want the same things,  why aren’t they married with children?   if he’s so hesitant and unsure then maybe he doesn’t think she’s the one,  after all.   aw,  sweetheart.”   she sets the glass on the table and wraps both of her slender arms around poppy’s shoulders,  pulling her in for a hug.   “and what kind of friend is he?   that’s a huge red flag.   his own girlfriend is so insecure and she sees you as competition from day one,  can’t even be cordial and he does nothing?   what a disappointment of a man.”   that man keeps losing points in juliet’s eyes.   what a wimp.   “i just don’t understand him.   men are something else.   are we drunk enough to text him? hand me your phone. i'll text him!”  

a part of her wishes juliet would spill some of her own tea, shine a light on something other than poppy's mess. but any excuse to talk about sarah is enough to get her going all over again. "i don't know, j, probably her beauty? the fact that she wants all the same things he does? that she's successful in her own right but willing to follow him wherever he goes?" she hiccups through her tears and a generous sip of wine. "she's not great to me but who cares? italy was only maybe the third time we've been forced to be in the same place for an extended period of time. and now they're back home and back to normal." it didn't matter that sarah made poppy feel horrible multiple times on multiple occasions, especially when alex tried to warn her that it might not be the best idea to go on a couples trip. "if they're happy, that's what matters. not the fact that she..." called him as boring as the place they met — a quote that while alex seems willing to move on from, still has poppy nearly bursting into flames whenever she thinks about it. "she's perfect to everyone but you and me, and maybe rachel. but we're not the ones dating her."

[angelicfoole]

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂  𝐑𝐏  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  .  .  .  (  pt  1.  the  art  of  touch  )   Set  the  stage  for  longing  glances,  lingering  touches,  and  the  quiet  tension  of  unspoken  words.   ✧  ˚₊  Themes:  soft,  slow  burn  &  a  touch  of  angst 

✧     ›    SOFT   &   FLUFFY   .

My  muse  tucks  a  loose  strand  of  hair  behind  your  muse’s  ear,  their  fingers  lingering  for  a  second  longer  than  necessary.

My  muse  falls  asleep  on  your  muse’s  shoulder  during  a  long  ride.

My  muse  surprises  your  muse  with  breakfast  in  bed,  complete  with  a  handwritten  note.

My  muse  pulls  your  muse  under  their  umbrella  during  a  sudden  downpour.

My  muse  gently  wipes  away  a  tear  from  your  muse’s  cheek,  their  touch  tender  and  careful.

My  muse  laces  their  fingers  with  your  muse’s  absentmindedly,  only  realizing  it  after  a  few  seconds.

 ✧     ›    TENSION   &   SLOW  BURN   .

My  muse  fixes  your  muse’s  tie/dress/jacket,  their  hands  brushing  against  their  skin  for  just  a  moment.

My  muse  leans  in  as  if  to  whisper  something,  their  lips  dangerously  close  to  your  muse’s  ear.

My  muse  catches  your  muse’s  wrist  before  they  can  leave,  their  grip  tightening  just  slightly.

My  muse  watches  your  muse  from  across  the  room,  their  gaze  lingering  even  when  caught.

My  muse  challenges  your  muse  to  a  bet,  knowing  exactly  what  they’ll  ask  for  if  they  win.

My  muse  absentmindedly  plays  with  your  muse’s  fingers  while  they  talk,  not  even  realizing  they’re  doing  it.

✧     ›    ANGST   &   EMOTIONAL   .

My  muse  pulls  your  muse  into  a  tight  hug,  as  if  afraid  to  let  go.

My  muse  wipes  away  the  blood  from  your  muse’s  face,  their  hands  trembling.

My  muse  shows  up  at  your  muse’s  doorstep  in  the  rain,  eyes  filled  with  something  unspoken.

My  muse  gently  cups  your  muse’s  face,  whispering,  “Why  do  you  always  have  to  make  things  so  difficult?”

My  muse  kisses  your  muse  like  it’s  the  last  time  they’ll  ever  get  the  chance.

My  muse  lets  your  muse  go,  even  though  it’s  the  last  thing  they  want  to  do.

 ✧     ›    TEASING   .

My  muse  corners  your  muse  against  a  wall,  a  smirk  playing  on  their  lips.

My  muse  whispers  something  in  your  muse’s  ear  that  makes  them  blush.

My  muse  pulls  your  muse  onto  their  lap  with  zero  warning.

My  muse  playfully  steals  a  bite  of  your  muse’s  food,  then  grins  as  they  lock  eyes.

My  muse  deliberately  leans  in  closer  just  to  see  your  muse’s  reaction.

My  muse  drags  their  fingers  slowly  down  your  muse’s  arm,  pretending  it  was  unintentional.

[angelicfoole]

Shakespeare's romances are amazing because in his plays marriage is an act of liberation from tyranny and a union of equals, rather than being simply moving from one patriarch to the next in this essay i will

[angelicfoole]

juliet can’t refrain from raising an eyebrow,  shifting the weight of her body from one foot to the other and gracing the back of his head with a confused look.   “and you just got broken up with?”   it surely isn’t the most subtle of comments,  but she’s merely pointing out the obvious.   how can he still appreciate this overrated holiday when he’s nursing a broken heart?   “oh,  so true love doesn’t exist but yours just so happened to choose some other guy to celebrate this wonderful day with?   and you’re still a fan of this holiday?   i’m sorry,  how does that make sense?”   

✞ –– staying perched on the steps next to the fountain, the blond keeps his face turned, elbow rested on knee as hand keeps roughly smearing tears away. ❝ no, ❞ gently protesting, ❝ valentine's day is not overrated, ❞ romeo disagrees, even in despair he didn't view it this way; how did this stranger? ❝ believing true love exists is overrated. and no, i didn't cheat. ❞ the last part causing him to give an irritated tone.

[angelicfoole]

walking outside to get some fresh air or rather to escape paris’ drunk advances,  juliet doesn’t expect to find her cousin’s (ex-)boyfriend bawling his eyes out in her secret spot.   after all,  the montagues weren’t invited to their party —   the great gatsby themed masquerade.   he’s not supposed to be here.   “are you the one cheating?   if not,  you shouldn’t feel humiliated.   sorry…   i overheard you and you were probably expecting someone else.   just wanted to say valentine’s day is overrated anyway.”  

✞    * open prompt to mutuals and non - mutuals.    ▎

❝ humiliating. ❞ not to cry , but to be caught doing the act outside the themed party. ❝ life is a tragedy. and it's valentine's day , she chooses to CHEAT? ❞ rosaline – the thorn where the heart meets.

[angelicfoole]

arms folded defensively over small chest,  juliet allows yet another dramatic huff to escape her nostrils.   between her and romeo,  she’s not quite sure who’s the biggest diva.   dark eyes rolling in visible irritation,  but she still finds herself moving to sit beside him on the stoop of the rundown trailer that has been serving as their home for the past couple of days.   “well,  allow me to rot here with you.   the AC’s down anyway.   our options are rotting out here or roasting in this oven behind us.   i really hate it here.”  

✞    * open prompt to mutuals and non - mutuals.    ▎

the sun hot and scorching against the bare nape of his neck and still he couldn't find that it burned any harder than his feelings melting like lava against his heart , burning a HOLE right through his ribcage. casting an annoyed glared over his shoulder,

❝ allow me to rot. ❞

[angelicfoole]

[angelicfoole]

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋.

basically i got thinking abt like. you know when you watch a movie, or read a book, and characters go into a room or they do a particular thing together, and you just KNOW it’s building up to something, and it could be literally anything, from a kiss to a murder, but SOMETHING will DEFINITELY happen??? yeah. this is a love-letter to those glorious scenes! i hope you all enjoy!

[  ROAD  TRIP  ]:     the sender and receiver embark on a road trip together; the purpose could be anything at all, but what’s important is that the journey lasts at least several hours. additionally, the sender and receiver are the only people in the car!

[  BARED  SOULS  ]:     the sender and receiver spontaneously go skinny dipping together in the middle of the night while visiting an isolated lake. go wild! maybe the sender finds the receiver already skinny dipping, maybe it’s the other way round, who knows! you do! maybe.

[  NIGHT-TIME  STROLLS  ]:    the sender decides to walk the receiver home from an event late one night. and it’s very late; so late that they might as well be the only people left in the world. it’s just them and the quiet night sky, and conversations of all kinds are easy to come by.

[  TOP OF THE WORLD  ]:     one of the muses finds the other on the roof-top in the middle of the night. neither of them want to sleep, and so they sit together for the remainder of the night until the sun comes up, content to sit and talk and exist with each other.

[  STEPPING  BACK  ]:      while they’re both attending a particularly lively and crowded party, both muses, craving a moment of peace and fresh air, accidentally go to the same balcony. unwilling to leave, they sit together, and begin to talk as the party spins on behind their backs.

[  NO  VACANCIES  ]:     both characters are in a position where they must share a hotel room together; not so bad, until they realize the only room left has one bed and no sofa in it. paired with a carpet that not even a worst enemy would be subjected to, the two must share the bed.

[  WRONG  ROOM  ]:     after a long day, and a hotel with many vacancies, the two muses part ways to go to bed. only, one of them ends up waking in the middle of the night, and shows up at the other’s doorstep, knocking and asking to come in, for reasons unknown to the other muse.

[  NIGHT-INGALE  ]:     after being badly beaten, one muse shows up on the other muse’s doorstep, pleading for help. the other obliges, brings them in and gently cleans their wounds, bandaging them up, helping them as much as they can while quiet confessions and gentle pleas happen. basically, angst and emotion and hurt and comfort, and it’s DELICIOUS–

[  VISITING  HOURS  ]:     upon waking in a hospital bed, one of the muses turns their head, and finds the other sleeping in an uncomfortable chair by their bedside.

[angelicfoole]

“ why are there many questions?”

“why do i have a feeling you’re making fun of my curiosity?”   there simply must be some sort of game here,  but juliet can’t quite figure out what it may be and so she plays along,  shrugging her shoulders and putting on a smile.   “i don’t know.   has no one else ever questioned you?”   she wonders out loud,  doe-like hues watching the other.

[angelicfoole]

❛ even in a stupid, stupid universe where we have hot dogs for fingers, we’d all be very good with our feet! ❜ | this sounds just like something this idiot would say IDK

there’s a moment of silence as juliet contemplates the meaning of romeo’s words,  scarlet-tinted lips pressed tightly together to keep from giggling.  “what do you mean by very good with our feet?   is this a poetic way of saying i have very nice feet?”   she teases,  poking his ankle with her big toe.   she’s missed this goof so much…   it’s the first weekend in june,  and they hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks.   but her father’s traveling on business,  attending some important conference in switzerland,  many miles and timezones away.   and her mother’s on yet another shopping spree,  convinced her only daughter’s spending the day over at her friend’s.   the thought that she might actually be on a beach with that montague boy doesn’t even cross mrs. capulet’s mind.   

as they lie side by side on the soft sand,  the sun so very warm and pleasant on her skin,  the gentle breeze from the ocean carrying the sound of waves lapping against the nearby shore,  juliet playfully puts her hand in romeo’s face.   dainty fingers wiggling,  lightly tapping his nose,  brushing against his rosy cheeks,  trying to coax a reaction out of him.   “and hot dogs,  you say?   what an interesting concept.”   maybe he’s been out in the sun for too long,  she thinks and begins to giggle.   “well,  would you still love me in that stupid,  stupid universe where we have hot dogs for fingers and are very good with our feet?”   she wonders,  tilting her face toward him.   “because that’s all that matters to me.”