@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
if i look back, i am lost
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
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wallacepolsom
trying on a metaphor
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Peter Solarz
blake kathryn
Love Begins
tannertan36
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
titsay
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
we're not kids anymore.
⁂
Discoholic 🪩
Claire Keane
seen from Chile
seen from Argentina
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from T1
seen from Türkiye
seen from Australia
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@countkills
this is an original character named RAFAEL 'RAFA' URBINO based on the crime thriller genre and adapting aspects from movies such as 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃 (𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟼) and 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 (𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷) to build his persona. themes of violence will be explored, please follow at your own discretion. very low activity blog. 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄 ( 𝒔𝒉𝒆 / 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝟐𝟏+ )
𝐒 𝐋 𝐈 𝐃 𝐄 𝐒 | 𝐁 𝐋 𝐎 𝐆 𝐑 𝐎 𝐋 𝐋 : @gentsleuth ( main )
#FORGRIES. 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚁 𝚆𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶? a multi-muse featuring a bunch of criminals and some nice people peppered in. heist planned by 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜.
PEDRO PASCAL BEHIND THE SCENES | THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT
grievences, cami.
she treats his distraction with kindness rather than spite - although horrible to say out loud, camila has gotten quite accustomed to the way that rafa’s work often takes him away from their moments but he always returns, contrite and wearing unnecessary guilt that she waves away with her free hand. ❝ don’t be - is it important ? ❞ chin dips to gesture towards the phone in his hand. ❝ you can deal with it and i’ll play defense for the more … questionable cakes we have today. my father wants us to try something with lemon and lavender, ❞ she instructs with a dramatic grimace.
he knew one thing to be true : if he were to open up that message, whatever secrets it held would not free him from their grasp soon enough. with a new bout of determination, rafa picks up his phone just to leave it on silent and stick it back in the depths of his pocket. ❝ not more important than cake. ❞ loving eyes relay the message – not more important than you. ❝ lemon and lavender? ❞ the sound of it doesn’t appease him. but then again, he had some points he needed to score with her old man. ❝ why? is that his favorite? let’s try it. ❞ a beat. ❝ let’s just cushion it between chocolate and red velvet so we feel it less. ❞
Pedro Pascal as Javi Gutierrez THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT (2022) dir. Tom Gormican
grievences, cami.
❝ baby - i know you’re bored, but i promise that we’ll do something fun after this cake tasting … assuming we don’t get diabetes first. ❞
@countkills / sc.
❝ hm? ❞ he looks up from his phone, where a new briefing had been sent that he wasn’t quite willing to open up and read yet. rafa had been debating whether or not to open the message when his fiancé’s voice reaches his ears. ❝ oh, no! i’m not bored. ❞ he corrects quickly, reaching out for her arm with an assuring hand. ❝ sorry, it’s just that work sent me something, but i’m not reading it. i’m off the clock. ❞ a smile grows on his lips, he squeezes her arm. ❝ i love this part. which cakes are we getting to try? ❞
little starter call! might slide into your dms for a little plotting too!
gunbash, sebastian.
❝ ARE YOU SIMPLY IMMUNE TO FLIRTATION ? ❞ sebastian can’t help the instinct to laugh , chuckling at the outlandish nature of rafa’s remarks … until he realizes the other man is absolutely serious . sebastian’s smile drops , fades into wide-eyed shock until he processes the moment and grins again . ❝ anyone within a five mile radius could have seen he was flirting with you — seriously ? you didn’t see ? maybe i should have been a better wingman . maybe i should have … i don’t know . given you a nudge or something , mouthed it , spelled it out for you when he wasn’t looking . HE WAS MAD FOR YOU . i could practically see the hearts pouring out of his eyes , and you’re telling me you didn’t notice ? ❞ he pinches the bridge of his nose and allows the chuckling to fade . they’ve still got an assignment to complete , and they should REALLY be focusing on finishing the task at hand … but it stuns him . RAFA’S OBLIVIOUSNESS HAS HIM AMAZED . ❝ he could have leaned right in and kissed you , and you would be here like … oh , do you think he liked me ? come off it . YOU’VE GOT TO BE JOKING WITH ME . ❞ sebastian is beaming . he gently shoves his companion’s arm , eyes darting over to RELOCATE the informant as they strolled away . ❝ want me to run over and stop him ? are their rules about sleeping with informants ? ❞
❝ i’m … ❞ a shrug of his shoulders follows the eloquent phrase, having lost his way around the words that could’ve presented themselves to him. rafa’s confusion is clear as the day is bright. [ this was the type of thing that i saw as a catalyst. a new perspective brought in a new plane of reality to wonder about. i never really had a second pair of eyes on the field with me before. as moran talked, all i could think of was how his impression had to be nonsense. then, considered that it maybe wasn’t. then, of course, proceeded to be bombarded by flashes of the past – how many of those chances had i missed over the years? ] thoughts keep him quiet, with a pair of pensive eyes to boast. look close enough and you could see the revisiting, the doubts and the questions passing through his irises. finally, after the fourth or fifth time sebastian doubts his sense of awareness, rafa clear his throat and fixes his glasses in place. ❝ look, i don’t do this a lot, alright? i don’t date. i don’t have time for it. if anything, i thought you of all people could understand. so no, i’m not joking you. i’m not – wired into flirting. ❞ flirting is the word he says, but affection of any kind is what he really means. it dawns on him too quickly, the weight of that realisation. dully, he looks over his shoulder to the informant in question. a nice man. pretty smile. his mind jumps straight to the hard rule of no attachments in the company, and what usually happened to those attachments. rafa looks ahead again, unwilling to doom that man. ❝ there are. ❞ he says simply, then casting a hardened look moran’s way. ❝ i don’t tend to break the rules they impose. do you? ❞
grievences, camila.
camila does not waste time as she stands in front of him, eager to take advantage of his acceptance with fingers that float down the front of the armour to look for an easier way to remove it. ❝ i don’t want to know how much you spent on this, ❞ she murmurs to herself as she unclasps the straps that cling to his shoulders and removes the top half like it’s a vest - she makes a show ofcarefully placing it on the couch like it is some precious item. ❝ big breath. ❞ clinical instruction in a non-professional embrace, camila wraps her arms around rafa to hold his back with a flush palm while the other presses lightly against the cage of his ribs.
❝ i wasn’t planning to tell you, so we’re good. ❞ [ i will not even put down on this journal how much i spent in that suit. this is between me and my bank account and us alone. ] he holds out his arms as she takes a hold of the many straps in that thing, and purses his lips into a thin line that makes him look an awful like some vexed child. rafa looks down at her with annoyance still intact and does as instructed : draws in a breath to fill his lungs. his features only minimally betray the wince he’s suppressed due to his injury. ❝ is that all? is the inspection done? i’d like it to be done. ❞ he had things to do. shows to watch. god, he hoped she wouldn’t find the baby yoda doll he had lying around.
anoranzas, beatríz.
beatríz smiles at rafa, more with her eyes than her mouth. restraint has long been her preferred armor; concealment her method of survival. even among friends, these things are not so easy to shake. “tienes un deal,” she tells him; with this the two stroll past the bored security guard at the gallery entrance.
once inside of the white-washed room, her mood is lifted considerably. her breath catches in her throat as she gives the room a preliminary once-over. this particular exhibition is dedicated to the works of nineteenth-century impressionists. the romantic scenes, many of them pastoral, speak to beatríz from the confines of their canvas prisons. “mira, rafa,” she speaks in a hushed tone, tugging him by the sleeve toward an american painting. “they make this country look beautiful.”
although an admirer of art, rafa was no true scholar on the matter. as one in constant search of sentiment and being in touch with the humanity that his job seemed to strip him of, he’d found some solace in the worlds contained within canvases, especially that of abstract paintings. they felt freeing, gave him permission to impose and feel like nothing else he had known. to rafa, it felt like the whole point of them was that they made no sense until you could click with them somehow. other styles did not appease him as much, but he did not mind taking the time to absorb them when in good company.
his hands are joined behind his back as he looks at one of the pieces with a soft line creasing his brow. when beatríz speaks, he discovers what had been bothering him about it. ❝ i don’t know if i like that. ❞ he admits, perhaps against what good sense would dictate. his eyes are trained on the painting, silently challenging it. ❝ it feels like a ruse. this place’s never looked like that. ❞ to him, it had never even felt like it could be beautiful. but he had his reasons. ❝ it never will. ❞
thefixer, fixer.
it’s true … it’s not everyday you see an average lookin’ dude ( some might even say bland or boring ) take down some brutish lookin’ guys . of course , she’s seen weirder things and this mild - mannered man was hardly strange . suppose suggesting that she was flabbergasted was just the appropriate response for something like that . a hum sounds from her , with one brow quirking upwards . “ do i look like someone who reads people at face value ? ” as the saying goes : don’t judge a book by it’s cover . so why would she begin to underestimate rafa and his capabilities . “ i was bein’ sarcastic … just didn’t anticipate you takin’ them out as quickly as you did . ” ( not that she’s complaining ) mia takes a few steps towards one of the unfortunates and turns the limp body over with her foot . head cocks to side , “ damn shame , ” she whispers to herself before kneeling down to finish in the guys pockets . “ check the other guy , see if they got anythin’ useful on them . ”
❝ i don’t know much about you. ❞ is all he can say without giving entirely away that he was not good at reading people in general. numbers were easier. took him far longer to fit people into a mould than it did to work out equations. rafa draws in a deep breath, aiding his heart rate into slowing down after the rush of adrenaline of combat. dull eyes look down at the results of his actions. [ i wanted to feel something. i always want to feel something, some sort of guilt, something other than the slight shaking in my hand that i’ve learned to keep under control over the years. i never could crack what that meant. i only know what i wanted it to mean. ] he doesn’t move, only watches her with curiosity. he wonders if she is feeling any form of remorse, any type of fear under the bravado. probably not. ❝ i don’t loot. ❞ the conviction in his voice seemed misplace, a man holding on to a form of morality he wasn’t entitled to after taking lives. ❝ are you looking for something? ❞
nancyedrew, nancy.
❝ OH –––– is that right ? ugh, i always do this: you have no idea how embarrassing it is until you’re tapping a stranger’s shoulder and calling them ‘ DAD ’ ! ❞ faux confusion is slipped into like a glove, a hand reaching to gently slap her forehead. still, she makes herself comfortable besides him; a smile, permanent on the mouth. ❝ but you look just like him, it’s quite uncanny ( … ) surely this can’t be the first time someone’s mistaken you two for each other. ❞
nowhere near as skilled an actor, rafa’s amusement sits somewhere between fabricated and genuine – like it was a feeling he wanted to access, but couldn’t quite reach it. ❝ oh, well, i can imagin – ❞ luckily for his performance, the frown that creases his brow is very genuine. ❝ wait, do you think i look old enough to be your dad? ❞ [ i know i don’t keep the best sleeping schedule, but come on. were the eyebags really that bad? ] shifting in place, he runs a hand through his hair in a not so well disguised nervous tick and exhales a sigh that is heavier than he’d have liked, but recovers a smile when looking back at her. ❝ you think so? i mean, i don’t get stopped that often but it’s happened once or twice. i think it helps that he wears that helmet all the time in the show, right? one time it came off his face was all bloody and he was banged up. ❞ the irony of that doesn’t reach him fast enough, thankfully. a soft laugh escapes under his breath. ❝ hope i never get to be in that state. but, yeah, sorry. i’m not pedro pascal. ❞
grievences, maja.
maja remains unruffled as rafa leans forward, keen gaze and sharp tongue, uttering threats like poetry so that they hardly resemble the touch of a cold blade against her throat. she tilts her cheek to watch him, studying his reaction - oh, his porcelain demeanor presses her towards violence when she wants nothing more to find a crack in his veneer. ❝ i know one day you will try, rafa. ❞ there is a certainty in her voice, not woeful or excited but a simple statement of fact. maja releases the cart and smiles, an expression that wrinkles beneath her eyes. ❝ swedish meatballs. ❞
she was correct in assuming that they were put up in the same place, a layout probably identical to his own. ❝ it’s like a toy box, ❞ she states from inside the fridge in her apartment kitchen in search for the tupperware container from last night. ❝ a place to keep all the toy soldiers when they’re not being played with. ❞
[ there was a certainty in her eyes i had seen before, maybe when looking into a mirror. now i have to wonder what she really meant by it. did she know she would slip up, or did she just know that i would swing the sword no matter what? was i ever going to be anything more than an executioner? ] the smile on his face falters as something indecipherable struggles in his eyes – guilt that is drowned out by the ingrained sense of duty that always overpowered it. he doesn’t agree with her, but he won’t counter her either. they were experienced players, the pair of them. ❝ ah. shoulda guessed. you’d know how to make those. ❞ it was easier to talk about meatballs.
he was two floors above her, in the same kind of unit. hers as impersonal and immaculate as his own. a voice in his head says there had to be more of a reason for it, nothing he organised was by chance. he sits on a stool at the kitchen island, hands pressed against the cold marble. ❝ is that what you think we are? ❞ asks the man who has struggled with the definition since he could remember. ❝ just toys? ❞ he wanted to believe he was more, but the years had dimmed the light of that hope.
fraudien, mina.
❝ I thought I’d find you here . ❞ One hand against the wall , Mina picked - up one of her feet , easing the pressure on the ball of her right foot whilst inevitably increasing it on her left . ❝ I hate these , ❞ she quietly admitted , tempted to take off her heels whilst all - too aware they’d only feel worse she put them back on again . / @countkills
[ ONE THING ABOUT MY LINE OF WORK : SURPRISES AREN’T WELCOME. ] she gives him a start that has him reaching for the gun hidden under his shirt, but reflex is stopped halfway once eyes identify her. rafa’s hand ultimately just flies by, awkwardly swinging as he trains a smile onto his features to replace the sternness he’d worn just seconds before. ❝ you did? ❞ his choice to stay outside was somewhat linked to his mission, but ultimately – ❝ i don’t like crowds much. ❞ wasn’t hard to find him if you knew as much. eyes fall to her feet. ❝ i’d offer to switch, but i don’t think that’d work out. ❞ a beat. ❝ you were looking for me? ❞
PEDRO PASCAL & SARAH PAULSON - via Instagram Live
PEDRO PASCAL on set HBO The Last Of Us
mesmersi, redemption arc.
don’t talk to strangers - was it a childhood warning or something in a handbook she had read when she had exchanged normalcy for grandiosity ? a life that she can never admit to having and a name that can never truly be her own ; what she has been taught battles against who she is and the latter proves an infrequent victor. ❝ the rain … ❞ she explains, as if he can not see it through the paneled door and the way it clings to the hair that has already become unorchestrated ringlets. she glances down at her watch, 11:00 AM in london which makes it 4:00 PM in jakarta - it’ll have to be enough time. ❝ would you mind it if i gave you a very important task ? ❞ she pushes the pack of biscuits back towards him and jostles her keys from her pocket. ❝ continue to protect the biscuits and i’ll make you a cup of tea to go with them. come on. ❞ head swipes to the side in an enthusiastic gesture before she gently brushes past him and makes her way up the stairs towards her flat.
up on his feet, he pushes back the damp locks of hair that cling to the skin of his forehead and cloud his vision. rafa suddenly becomes aware of the way every inch of his clothing was that much heavier and that much stickier to his body as the rain weighed it down on him. he should’ve cried under an umbrella. ❝ yeah, it’s – it’s raining. ❞ he says with an pinch of hesitation, not entirely understanding the route of their conversation due to not being exactly present at the moment. ❝ task? ❞ habit kicks in. for a moment, he thinks she might be a contact reaching out in the most inopportune of times. this was his day off. what if word of this disaster reached corporate? the thought sends a shiver down his spine. or maybe it’s just the rain. but then she gives him biscuits and continues, managing to make him more confused than before. rafa glances behind him, back to the building where he had been mercilessly dumped, and with half a desire to maybe see the perpetrator again by chance, he follows after the mysterious woman once she moves past him. ❝ thanks, that’s nice of you. you don’t really have to – ❞ yet he trails behind her nonetheless. and opens the elevator door for chivalry’s sake. water drips from him as he enters the elevator and uncomfortably holds on to the biscuit pack with both hands. the idea that he should start some kind of small talk reaches him, but never does much more than that. he only holds on to the biscuits tighter while attempting to make himself smaller in the confined space.
