#╰ (✪∀<) ~ *:･ﾟ✧ And these voices in my soul know that I’m not in control. ❈ ORPHANAGE.

[eu-nicola]

worse than silence

summary: Rafe and you maintain a secret relationship, but one day JJ discovers the truth and things get complicated

warnings: angst maybe

word counter: 3537

author's note: english is not my first language

tag: @tracymbcm

It was on nights like these that everything seemed easier and at the same time unbearably difficult. You were sitting on a cliff, hugging your legs as you looked out at the horizon. You had arrived early, as always. Rafe had told you he would come, but you knew that lately his promises were as fragile as glass.

The sound of staggering footsteps behind you brought you out of your thoughts. You turned your head and there he was, with his shirt wrinkled, his eyes sunken and an air of exhaustion that broke your soul.

“You arrived,” you said softly, although the lump in your throat threatened to betray you.

Rafe dropped down next to you, not looking at you. He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled loudly. He smelled of alcohol, of a lost night, of smoke and chaos. Your heart contracted. You had lost count of how many times you had witnessed that version of him: broken, self-destructive, and yet still trying to maintain an emotional distance that hurt you more than any words.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” he murmured at last, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You stared at him intently, searching his eyes for something, anything to tell you there was still hope. But all you found was a haunting emptiness.

“I’m here because I love you, Rafe. Because I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”

He laughed bitterly, but the laughter faded quickly, leaving him only the weight of guilt.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I don’t care, Rafe. I want to help you, but you have to let me in. You have to stop pushing me away.”

For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften. But like a blink, the hardness returned.

“You don’t understand, you’ll never understand. This… this isn’t fixed with love or pretty words. It’s bigger than that, bigger than us.”

You felt torn apart. He wanted you to leave him, but every fiber of your being refused. He wanted to protect you, but he didn’t realize that the distance hurt more than any hell he could drag you into.

The silence stretched on until he stood up abruptly, his hands shaking.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he began to walk away.

“Is that all?” you yelled at him, standing up with your heart racing. “Are you going to keep running away? From me? From yourself?”

Rafe stopped, but didn’t turn around. He just shook his head before disappearing into the darkness. The cold of the night embraced you as tears fell freely down your face.

The next day, the tension in the air was palpable. JJ was in a bad mood, as he usually was lately. You had tried to avoid him since you got home that morning, but you knew you couldn't hide forever.

You were in the kitchen when you heard him walk in, slamming his backpack down on the table with force.

“Where were you last night?” he asked immediately, not even bothering to soften his tone.

“None of your business, JJ,” you replied, trying to remain calm as you washed the dishes. But you knew your brother wasn’t one to let things go.

“Oh no? Because I happened to see something very interesting last night,” he said, moving dangerously closer. “I saw you with him.”

The plate you were holding nearly dropped. You froze, unable to come up with an answer.

“How long? How long have you been seeing that piece of trash?” he snapped, his voice filled with disbelief and fury.

“JJ, it’s not what you think…” you tried to explain, but he cut you off immediately.

“It’s not what I think?!” he yelled, slamming the table. “Rafe Cameron.” How could you? After everything he’s done to us, after everything he’s done to this family!

“It’s not that simple!” you shouted back, feeling rage mix with despair. “You don’t understand what he’s going through. I… I love him, JJ.”

That confession seemed to hit him harder than anything else. He stood still, as if the words had paralyzed him.

“You love him?” you whispered, incredulous. “Do you really think someone like him can change? That he won’t break you like he’s done to everyone else?”

“He’s trying…” but your voice cracked. Not even you were sure of that at the moment.

JJ shook his head, his eyes filled with disappointment.

“I thought we could trust each other. But this… this is a betrayal. I can’t believe you lied to me all this time.”

You felt like the ground beneath your feet had fallen apart. You wanted to reach out to him, to explain, to beg him to understand. But JJ took a step back, his gaze colder than ever. 

“I hope it’s worth it,” he said before walking out of the house, leaving you alone in devastating silence. 

Guilt and anguish clung to you like an unbearable weight. For the first time, you wondered if you could really go through with all of this. Rafe was falling apart, and now, you were losing your brother, too. 

The next few days were a silent hell. You tried to talk to JJ more times than you could count, but every time you reached out, he ignored you completely. It was like you had ceased to exist for him. The first time you tried to stop him, you were faced with a wall of ice.

“JJ, please, just listen to me,” you said, blocking his way at the door.

He didn’t even look at you. With a sharp movement, he pushed you aside and walked out without saying a word. That gesture, cold and distant, hurt more than you had imagined.

And it wasn’t just JJ. The worst came when the rest of the group found out.

One afternoon, you were at the beach bar where everyone used to meet. You had arrived hoping that, at least there, you could find a way to repair what had been broken. However, when you entered, you felt the air become heavy. Kiara, Pope, and John B were sitting around a table, talking in low voices. Upon seeing you, the conversations immediately ceased, and their gazes were fixed on you with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

“Really?” Kiara was the first to speak, her tone full of reproach. “Rafe? How could you?”

You felt trapped, like you were being judged with no chance to defend yourself.

“Kie, you don’t understand…” you tried to explain, but Pope interrupted you.

“What’s there to understand?” he said bitterly. “That guy has done everything to ruin us. He’s beaten us, tried to bring us down more times than I can count. And you…? Are you with him?”

John B didn’t say anything at first, but the tension in his jaw was evident. Finally, he spoke, his voice calmer but no less laden with disappointment.

“We knew you were hiding something. But this…” he shook his head. “I never thought you’d betray us like this.”

The word “betrayal” hit like a punch. You felt tears forming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of them.

“It’s not what they think,” you said, even though you knew your words rang hollow. “Rafe… he’s not perfect, I know.” But he’s going through something, and I… I just want to help him.

Kiara laughed humorlessly, crossing her arms.

“Help him? Do you really think you can save someone like him? Rafe doesn’t need your help. What he needs is to stop butting into our lives.”

“This is between Rafe and me,” you replied, trying to remain calm. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with us?” Pope raised his voice, clearly frustrated. “It has everything to do with us. He’s hurt us time and time again, and you… you chose to be on his side.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming. You felt like everything you’d built with them was crumbling at that moment. You tried to look at JJ, searching for a trace of understanding, but he was standing in the corner, arms crossed and staring at the floor, not even deigning to look at you.

“JJ…” you said softly, almost pleading.

But he turned and walked out of the place without saying a word. It was like every step he took took a piece of your heart with him.

That night, the loneliness was unbearable. You locked yourself in your room, feeling small, broken. Guilt and anguish consumed you, and the silence grew heavier with each passing minute. You had lost your brother, your friends. And even though you loved Rafe, you couldn’t ignore that being with him was costing you everything.

Hours later, you received a text. It was from Rafe.

“I’m sorry. I know this is my fault.”

You stared at the text for several minutes, not knowing what to answer. Was it his fault? Or was it yours for letting yourself get dragged here? You had no answers, only a void that seemed to grow with each second.

Finally, you turned off your phone and sank into bed. The tears you had held back all day began to fall silently. You didn't know how much more you could take.

Your friends had been your refuge, your family, but now, with them away, you felt like a foreigner in your own world. Every time you locked eyes with JJ or the others, you felt the weight of their judgment. You tried to ignore it, to focus on the only thing that kept you afloat: Rafe. However, even he seemed more distant, as if the current of his own demons was dragging him further away from you.

It had been days since you last saw him, and desperation was beginning to settle in your chest. Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you made the decision to look for him at his house. You knew it was a risk, that if they saw you there it would only make things worse with your friends, but you didn't care. You needed to see him. You needed to know that you weren't completely alone.

When you arrived, the Cameron mansion was completely silent. You knocked loudly on the door, hoping someone would answer, but there was no answer. So, you made your way to the side of the house, where you knew you could climb up to his window. It was something you had done before, on those nights where the world seemed to belong only to the two of you.

You peeked over the edge and saw him. Rafe was sitting on the floor of his room, his back against the bed, a half-empty bottle in one hand and his gaze lost on the wall. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and his expression was that of someone who had been fighting his own thoughts and losing the battle.

“Rafe…” you whispered, stepping in carefully.

He looked up slowly, his eyes red and filled with a pain you recognized all too well. For a moment, he seemed relieved to see you, but that glint quickly faded.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.

“I couldn’t be alone,” you admitted, moving closer to him. You sat down next to him, trying to ignore the smell of alcohol and the feeling that something was falling apart between you.

Rafe let out a bitter laugh.

“Alone? I thought I was the reason you were left without anyone.”

His words were a dart straight to your heart, but you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I’m alone as long as I have you.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t understand what you were saying.

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want this, want me. I’m a mess. I’m screwed. Don’t you see that?”

“I see it, Rafe. But I also know that you can get out of this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“What if I don’t want to get out?” His voice cracked, his eyes searching yours desperately. “What if this is the only thing I know how to do?”

Your heart broke a little more.

“Then I’ll stay with you until you want me. But don’t push me away, please.”

Rafe let his head fall back against the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, silence was the only thing between you, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I let myself sink completely. If I just… disappeared.”

The rawness of his words took your breath away. You gripped his hand tightly, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his eyes filling with tears. “Look what I’m doing to you. You’re losing everything because of me.”

You shook your head, clinging to him as if by doing so you could keep him from falling apart completely.

“Rafe, I chose this. I chose you. I know it’s hard, but you have to believe me when I say that I don’t care what anyone else thinks. All I want is for us to be together.”

“And that’s the problem,” he whispered, looking away. “Being with me is only going to destroy you.”

You tried to respond, but he let go of your hand and staggered to his feet. He walked over to the window, looking outside as if searching for a way out that didn’t exist.

“Maybe it’s best that this ends here,” he finally said, his voice laced with heartbreaking sadness.

You stood up quickly, your chest tight with fear.

“What? You mean…?”

Rafe turned to you, his eyes filled with pain.

“I can’t keep doing this. I love you, but I can’t drag you down with me anymore.”

“Rafe, no…” your voice cracked as you moved closer to him, your hands shaking. “You can’t do this. You can’t push me away.”

He closed his eyes, fighting the emotions that consumed him.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” he finally said, and those words were like a dagger.

Tears began to fall freely down your face. You tried to cling to him once more, but this time, Rafe backed away.

“Please go away,” he whispered, not looking at you.

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You couldn't believe what was happening, you didn't want to accept it. But the determination in his voice left you with no options.

Heartbroken, you took a step back. Every fiber of your being wanted to stay, to fight, but you knew he was in too dark a place for you to reach him at that moment.

Finally, you turned and walked out the same window you had entered through, feeling like you were leaving a part of yourself behind. When you hit the ground, a cold breeze greeted you, as if the world knew you had lost something irreplaceable.

As you walked back home, the pain and despair fully set in. You had lost so much, and now, even Rafe seemed out of your reach.

The days that followed were an endless emptiness. Loneliness was a weight you felt even in the air, in every corner of the house, in every silence that stretched like a lingering shadow. You woke up every morning with a knot in your chest, the kind of weight that reminded you, even before you opened your eyes, that you were alone.

Your brother, he made no effort to hide his contempt. Every time you crossed paths with him, his cold gaze was a reminder that, to him, you had betrayed everything that it meant to be family. You tried several times to get closer, to talk to him, but your attempts always met with a wall of silence or curt responses.

“JJ, please, we can’t go on like this,” you begged one night, finding him in the kitchen as he poured a glass of water.

He didn’t even deign to look at you.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Nothing? After all?” Your voice trembled, the weight of his indifference tearing at you.

Finally, JJ turned to you, his gaze filled with a mix of anger and pain.

“After all, you chose Rafe. That says it all.”

The glass in his hand shook slightly before he set it down on the counter with a thud. He walked away without waiting for an answer, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Your friends were no more understanding, either. Every time you saw them around the island, their gazes avoided yours, as if you were someone they no longer recognized. You had lost their trust, and it seemed like there was no way to get it back.

You tried to approach Kiara one afternoon. She was on the beach with John B and Pope, laughing at something one of them had said. Seeing you, the smiles faded, and the atmosphere instantly tensed.

“Kie, can we talk?” you asked cautiously, keeping your distance.

She crossed her arms and looked at you coldly.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Please, just a minute…”

Kiara sighed, her expression hardening.

“For what? For you to tell me that all of this is worth it because you “love Rafe”? I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s not like that…” you tried to explain, but she cut you off.

“Yes, it is. You chose him, knowing everything he’s done to us. How do you expect us to trust you after that?”

The words hit hard, and although you wanted to defend yourself, you knew it was pointless. You had let them down, and there was no apology that could fix it at that moment.

You turned and walked away, feeling the tears burn in your eyes as their voices faded behind you. Every step you took through the sand seemed to sink you deeper into a pit of despair.

Rafe didn't make things any easier either. Even though you knew he loved you, his actions didn't match his feelings. After that night at his house, he had been the one who started to put more distance between you. His messages became scarce, and the times you did manage to see him, he seemed like a man torn between his desire to have you close and his conviction that it was better for you to walk away.

One afternoon, you found him on the beach, sitting alone on a rock, staring at the horizon. You slowly approached, afraid he would reject you again. Sensing your presence, Rafe turned his head. For a moment, his eyes softened at the sight of you, but he soon hardened his expression again.

“I told you that you shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, though there was no real conviction in his words.

You sat down beside him without asking permission, your heart pounding.

“I can’t keep ignoring you, Rafe. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“It’s not fair to you. All of this… it’s not what you deserve.”

“Let me decide that,” you replied firmly, trying to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be without you, even if it means carrying all of this weight.”

Rafe finally looked at you, and in his eyes you saw a sea of ​​emotions: love, guilt, and a desperation that mirrored your own.

“I’m ruining you,” he whispered, as if he was finally admitting his worst fear.

You shook your head, your shaking hands searching for him.

“No, Rafe. It ruins me more to be without you.”

He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. For a moment, it looked like he was going to give in, that he was going to let you stay. But then, in a broken voice, he murmured,

“I can’t do this to you.”

He abruptly stood up and began to walk away, leaving you alone once again. You stood there, watching his figure disappear into the distance, the sound of the sea mixing with the sobs you could no longer hold back.

The nights grew longer, and the pain became a constant. You lay awake for hours, wondering if things could have been different, if there was any way to get your brother, your friends, and Rafe back. But every time you closed your eyes, the only answer you found was the weight of loneliness that continued to grow inside you.

[pippin-katz]

Jayden, George & Cameos

Alright, maybe this is me being presumptuous, but I feel like I need to say something. I’m going to offer my two cents about the cameo situation.

I did not buy a cameo when George did it, but upon asking someone who did, they costed £40. The price of the joint cameo is evidently £80.

Is that too high of a price?

If you thought £40 for George’s cameo was fine, then you have to say “no”.

George by himself was £40. If Jayden made his own by himself, it would probably also be £40. Therefore, if you add them together, you get £80.

People need to understand that while they might have fun with the cameos, they are still working. Recording videos like that is exhausting, and if you don’t think so, you’ve clearly never done it. I have recorded reaction videos and after thoughts and stories for years, and I still get exhausted if I have to do a multiple part story, or do it over and over until I’m satisfied.

Now, I know a lot of people are peeved more about the phrasing of these joint cameos as a “gift for the fans” when the price might be out of budget for a lot of people.

But if you are throwing a tantrum over it, you need to sit the fuck down, and check your damn privilege.

It is a gift.

They don’t have to do this. They literally don’t. They don’t have to interact with us. They don’t have to post anything. They owe you nothing.

Instead, they have taken the time out of their days, their schedules, whatever they might be busy with, or even if they’re relaxing, and they’ve decided to record video messages for you.

Not to mention, do you even understand what they are putting themselves in risk of emotionally or mentally?

The very first thing that came to a LOT of people’s minds when this was announced was: “I hope no one asks them to kiss because we’ll never get Payneland.”

If you didn’t think that, congratulations! You have apparently been fortunate enough not to encounter what real Internet behavior is like. Or maybe you’re new to a fandom space, and this is your first time! Great!

You might be thinking: “No one would actually do that; at least not in this fandom!”

But the truth of the matter is that there are many people who would and probably WILL do that.

The anonymous nature of the Internet has enable millions, and I mean millions, of people to act on and voice their most disgusting and disturbing thoughts. The content or person does not always reflect on the people who digest or interact with it. There are monsters everywhere; they are in every space whether you encounter them or not.

By being online all of us open ourselves up to the risk of people attacking us or exposing us to things we do not enjoy or want. For people of any level of fame, it’s multiplied tenfold.

George and Jayden can turn off direct messages, block people, mute tags, and whatnot, so they can avoid most attempts to reach them. By offering these cameos, they are giving a direct route for people to type whatever the hell they want into their message, and whether they like it or not, they’ll probably be reading it.

This is an open invitation for those awful people to request anything, to say anything, to ask anything, even if they report it and don’t respond, they’ll likely see it.

Invasive questions about their sexualities, their relationships, their personal lives. Disgusting thirst messages. Disturbing requests asking for specific things to act as a replacement or substitute for what we would’ve liked to see in the show.

Anything and everything you can think of is possibly something they will encounter, and they’re willing to take that risk to give you something special. To talk directly to you, even if it’s only for a minute.

It’s become increasingly clear, to me at least, that Jayden is a sensitive soul. Not in a “can’t take a joke” way, or in any condescending way. He’s just kind. He’s kind in a way that is taken advantage of in online spaces. He’s also young. A lot of this is still new to him.

He apologizes like it’s his fault if his stream chat gets some bad people in it. He was talking about how he wanted to continue playing Detroit: Become Human really badly, but felt like we would be upset if he didn’t stream his entire play-through. He asked for a list of names of people who support him on Twitch, their usernames and actual names, because he wanted to keep track of them.

Jayden was really excited about the joint cameos. He looked so thrilled to talk about it, and was looking forward to hanging out with George, and doing this for fans.

When fans turned around and yelled about prices, it probably crushed him! Instead of reciprocated excitement, he got bitterness and hate. And for something that he might not even have control over, mind you.

It feels like he can never do enough to make fans happy.

It’s not his fault the show was canceled, but he probably feels just as bad about it as we all do! It’s disappointing! It’s upsetting! And he wanted to do it! But he can’t, and that has to feel frustrating as someone passionate about what they do.

It’s not his fault some fans are toxic or judgmental of every interaction he has with his community. It’s not his fault that people spread hate.

But it probably feels like he can at least put a stop to it by not continuing to do any of it. If he just stops streaming, no toxic chats. If he stops talking to fans, no people complaining about favoritism.

I don’t blame him for wanting to walk away entirely.

To wrap this up, if you have anything disrespectful to say about the boys or this situation, do us all a favor and keep your damn mouth shut.

I expected better from this fandom than behaving like entitled children. We’ve gained thousands of signatures, rallied together to buy a billboard for this show, but we can’t maintain a supportive space for the actors? How do you expect us to succeed in saving this show if we can’t even do that?

To make a long story short (too late), fans, do fucking better.

[ficxworm]

Finding the Words

Pairing: Castiel x Dean Winchester

Tags: I don’t even know what to tag this as. I wrote this a few days ago in a desperate attempt to pretend the end of the show never happened.🙃

The bunker was quiet, heavy with an emptiness that lingered in every corner. Dean sat alone in the library, hunched over a half-empty whiskey bottle and a pile of unfinished research. He’d been drowning out the silence with work, but nothing could fill the void left by Castiel’s absence. Nothing could fill the ache of those last words Cas had left him with: “I love you, Dean.” He hadn’t had time to respond, hadn’t known what to say. By the time he did, it was too late.

Or so he thought.

A familiar flutter of wings filled the air, and Dean’s heart leapt. He stood slowly, the bottle slipping from his hand and hitting the floor with a dull thud, spilling across the concrete.

“Dean,” came the voice—low, steady, and achingly familiar.

Dean’s breath caught. He turned, and there he was. Castiel, standing in the doorway of the library, looking just as he had before he left. Maybe a little tired, a little worn, but real.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was thick with disbelief, and he could feel his hands start to shake.

“It’s me,” Castiel said, his lips curving into the smallest, warmest smile. “I’m here.”

Dean crossed the room in a few quick strides, grabbing Castiel’s coat as if to make sure he was real. “Cas, how—how did you…?”

“I fought my way back,” Castiel murmured, his eyes softening. “The Empty let me go, but only because I needed to be here. With you.”

Dean swallowed, his chest tightening with emotions he’d kept locked down for too long. He tried to think of something, anything to say, but all he could manage was, “I thought I’d lost you.”

Castiel reached up, his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder, grounding him. “I couldn’t leave things the way they were, Dean. Not after… not after what I told you.”

Dean’s eyes stung, but he forced himself to meet Cas’s gaze, swallowing hard. “Cas, when you said that to me… I didn’t say it back. I didn’t get to.”

Castiel’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I didn’t expect you to.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, one hand still clutching Cas’s coat, as if he’d disappear if he let go. “Well, you should have. Because, Cas, I…” He paused, his throat tightening as he searched for the words he’d buried for so long. “I love you, too.”

The words fell between them, raw and unguarded. Castiel’s face softened, his blue eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to reach into Dean’s soul. “Dean…”

Dean didn’t let him finish. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Cas’s, his hands tightening on his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me this long to say it. I was scared. But I’m done running from this—from you.”

Castiel closed his eyes, his own hand lifting to cup the side of Dean’s face. “You don’t have to run anymore.”

In the quiet of the bunker, Dean leaned in, his lips meeting Castiel’s in a kiss that was both soft and filled with a lifetime of unspoken promises. They stood there, wrapped up in each other, finding strength in a truth they’d both fought so hard to find.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean kept Cas close, his voice a rough whisper. “You’re not going anywhere again. You hear me?”

Castiel smiled, a quiet certainty in his eyes. “I hear you, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, Dean felt at peace. They were both finally where they belonged—together, in a world that had finally let them find each other.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So Metallicas biography by Mick Wall states that James got more confidence after his acne went down and he got a few girls. So this inspired my idea: maybe back when he was insecure about his looks he started dating a girl who was “out of his league”, and she really loved him, they were each others firsts and other puppy love staff and she always told him how handsome he is? but he soon broke up with her because of his insecurities and cause Dave was saying that James was a “pity project” for her. So during MoP tour when they are in turn he wants to reconcile, but she’s very upset not only because of break up but because “I told you so many times how amazing you are but that wasn’t good enough but when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?”

Omg, I love so much James with acne, he's too cuteeee. By the way, I hope you like it❤

Just the way you are

The night I met James, he wasn’t the confident rockstar the world would come to know. Instead, he was the boy who didn’t quite understand why someone like me would even look at him twice. He was still growing, not just in his music but in himself—still insecure, his face dotted with acne, his posture hunched as if trying to hide from the world. I remember how he’d avoid looking into my eyes, always fidgeting with his hands or the sleeve of his jacket, almost as if waiting for me to call him out, tell him he wasn’t worthy of my time.

But I never did.

I could see the real James—the one behind the mask he tried so hard to wear. The one who, when he smiled, looked like he could light up the darkest room. The one who was funny, kind, and so full of ideas. His eyes, though shadowed by his insecurities, always seemed to be searching for something. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was validation.

For months, we spent endless nights talking, laughing, and just being together. I told him, again and again, how beautiful he was—how his soul shone brighter than anything I had ever seen. But no matter how many times I said it, no matter how I held him close, it never seemed to stick. He would laugh it off, shrug, and change the subject.

“I’m nothing special,” he’d mutter, his voice barely audible.

I couldn’t understand it. To me, James was everything. More than just the musician everyone idolized. He was someone I saw beyond the rough exterior, beyond the acne that made him so self-conscious. He was perfect to me. But he couldn’t see it.

One night, after a particularly brutal argument with Dave, something snapped in James. The insults from Dave always made him retreat into himself, but this time it was different. “You’re just a pity project for her,” Dave had said. His words cut deep, and I could see the effect it had on James. His eyes glazed over, a storm brewing behind them.

“James… that’s not true,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. But he pulled it away.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” he muttered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m not some pretty boy you should be with. You deserve someone better.”

It was the first time I truly saw the cracks in his facade. All his doubts, all his fears, bled out in that moment, and I realized just how fragile he really was. I tried to reassure him, to tell him that I loved him, that I always would, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t believe them.

Then, it happened.

One night, right after another heart-wrenching conversation, he pulled away.

“I’m not good enough for you,” James said, barely looking at me. “It’s not right. I don’t deserve you.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to lose him, but he had already made up his mind. The breakup came swiftly, a quiet moment in the dark as if he had already been gone for so long.

I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t fathom how, after everything we had been through—after I’d shown him just how much I cared for him, how much I loved him—he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t believe in me. He couldn’t believe in himself.

_____

Months passed. The Master of Puppets tour rolled on, and Metallica was everywhere. James became the image of confidence the world adored—his face no longer hidden behind acne, his smile bright as ever. The validation he once craved seemed to come in waves, in groupies, in adoration from fans, and the recognition of the world. He was a star. He was the rock god everyone worshipped.

But every time I saw his face on TV or heard his voice on the radio, my heart sank. It wasn’t the fame that bothered me. It was the truth I had known all along.

It came late one evening, the sound of the knock at my door startling me out of a long, restless sleep. I opened the door to find him standing there, just like he had so many times before. Only this time, it was different. He wasn’t the confident rockstar, he wasn’t hiding behind the world’s expectations. He was just James.

“Y/n… can we talk?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt a lump form in my throat. Part of me wanted to slam the door, to tell him it was too late, to shout all the hurt I had kept inside. But I couldn’t. There was something in the way he said my name—something raw that made my heart ache.

“Come in,” I whispered, stepping aside.

He walked in slowly, looking like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were tired, sad, but also determined, like he was willing to fight for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“I’ve thought about everything,” he started, his voice low. “Everything I said… everything I did. I was scared. I was stupid. I didn’t believe you when you told me how amazing I was. I didn’t believe I could be worthy of your love. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I felt my heart race. Those words. They were the ones I had needed to hear for so long, but they weren’t enough, were they? The damage had already been done. He had walked away, and now, months later, he was standing here with nothing but regrets and apologies.

I crossed my arms, holding back the tears. “You know, James, I told you over and over. I told you how beautiful you were, how amazing you were. I told you I loved you, but it was never enough, was it? You didn’t believe it. And now… when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?” 

James looked at me with pleading eyes. “I was wrong. and stupid. I know I was. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me like that,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know what I said… it wasn’t true. I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. You were never a ‘pity project.’ You never deserved to feel like that. You deserve so much more.”

The words hung in the air. I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in so long, I saw the James I had loved—the real James—standing in front of me, stripped of his bravado, exposed, vulnerable.

“I told you, James,” I whispered, stepping forward. “I told you so many times. And I know now… I can’t just give you all of me without knowing you believe in us. I needed to know that you believe in us”

He nodded, his eyes sincere. “I believe in us, Y/n. I believe in you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it, if you’ll let me.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, emotions rushing over me all at once. He was still the boy I had loved, but now there was more—so much more. He wasn’t the same James who had walked away. This was the man who had finally faced his fears, who had finally learned to believe in himself, in us.

I felt the tightness in my chest loosen, the walls I had built to protect myself slowly crumbling. I stepped closer, my voice shaking as I whispered, “I was so scared, James. I wanted to hold onto you so badly, but I couldn’t keep holding onto someone who couldn’t see me. You didn’t see me. But I need to know—do you see me now?”

His eyes softened, and he reached for me, his hand trembling just a little. “I do. I see you, Y/n. I’ve always seen you, but I was too scared to look at what you really were. You’ve always been what I needed, but I was too stupid to understand it before.”

I closed the space between us, the weight of everything we’d been through crashing over me. My hands found his, and I could feel the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his grip. “I’m not perfect, James. I’ve been angry. I’ve been hurt. But maybe… maybe I can try again. For us. If you really mean it.”

James pulled me into him, and I could feel the tension that had been between us for so long melt away. His arms wrapped around me, holding me like he would never let me go again. My heart swelled as I rested my head against his chest, hearing the familiar beat of his heart beneath my ear.

“I’ll never let you go,” he murmured, kissing my temple,  his voice thick with emotion. “Not this time. Not ever.”

A tear slipped from my eye, but this time, it wasn’t from pain—it was from relief, from the healing I had longed for. I felt his thumb gently brush it away, his lips pressing softly against my forehead.

“I’ve always loved you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we had been through. “And I think I’ve always known… you’d come back to me. ”

James smiled softly, and in that moment, I knew. We couldn’t erase the past, but we could build something new. Something better. The years of pain, the uncertainty, the distance—everything that had torn us apart was now behind us, and all that mattered was what came next. For the first time in a long time, I truly believed that we could make it. I could feel the love between us growing again, like a fire rekindling after a long, cold night.

[littleplantfreak]

Currently Seeking: A Soul Connection

Grim Reaper Hiragi x Reader Cw: mentions of death and...stomach issues? that's pretty much it Word Count: 800ish Hiragi's having a tough time getting your soul, but in the end neither of you really mind that. Kinda based on the game A Date with Death because I kept thinking about Ragi's halloween costume.

“We can’t keep doing this.” The voice grumbles from inside the bathroom. You’re sitting back against the door as you listen to him writhe in anxious agony. The pills you always give him work, just not immediately. 

“I keep winning fair and square,” and the smile in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Sweat drips down his brow as he wonders how you could’ve won a game he rigged against you in the first place, though this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve sweet talked your way into him letting you play for your life. “I even let you choose the game this time, Toma!”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Your ability to keep yourself alive is inherent and nebulous, marring his perfect track record as a grim reaper. It hurts both his stomach and his pride that you’re still on earth and not where your soul should be, at least according to the paperwork. 

“As much as I enjoy our chats, please shut up. You aren’t helping my nerves.”

“You like my voice,” and he hears that little amused scoff you do sometimes. “In fact, I bet you’re totally soothed listening to me right now.”

“Yeah, every time I think you’re done talking it does tend to get better.”

“Rude bastards don’t get the porridge I’m cooking on the stove,” you call back, getting up to check on it. The only reason you make it is because he can’t stomach anything else when he gets like this, though why you’re going along with him and playing friends is beyond you. He grumbles and complains about how much he’d prefer you just give your soul up, but in about two minutes he’ll be out of the bathroom and sitting on your couch while you cue up whatever’s next in your watchlist on the TV. 

Maybe it’s because he cares without saying it, or maybe you’re just lonely and this is the easiest relationship you’ve ever had to put effort into, but regardless you’re really starting to enjoy him being here. 

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep watching a movie with him only to find yourself in your bed, no recollection of being carried. Other times when his stomach is at its worst, you’ll be swaddled on the couch, your favorite stuffed animal sitting next to you as if to comfort you in your now quiet house. 

“Why don’t you just…take it?” You asked the question one day, curious since as far as you know he can just reap you whenever he wants.

“You’re not willing to give it up. It’d be worse for your soul in the long run if it was taken against your will. It’d be different if your body died, but to just take it as you are now could tear it in a way that’d make you unable to pass on, or worse.” His matter of fact tone recited it as if it’d been ingrained in him from birth, which according to him it has. 

Now, the bathroom door opens, Toma’s face slightly less pale. His bowl sits on the side table with extra pills on a napkin next to it and a glass of water that he never asked for but takes gratefully. He’d never say it out loud, but maybe he’s not as bothered as he should be that you’re still alive, despite the constant stomach issues the stress brings.

The movie nights, the way you stretch your legs over his lap while you tell him about your day and the shitty people at work…even the way you tease him for slacking on the job after he loses yet another round of checkers or when the car that was supposed to hit you ends up braking right at the last minute. Even those moments seem to fill him with feelings he’s not used to. Bewilderment, slight concern, and something else that someone who wasn’t in his position would describe as fondness end up bubbling to the surface of his chest. 

Your soul needs to move on eventually, but for now he’ll secretly enjoy these small respites where you both forget that fact. No one but him knows about the small smile that makes its way to his face when your head slumps on his shoulder yet again. Your warmth soaks into his skin reminding him of the warmth of the porridge from earlier. 

It’s only polite for him to make sure you get to your bed. In fact, he could go so far as to say it’s necessary for the eventual completion of collecting your soul. Not because he’s concerned about your sore muscles, and definitely not because he loves the way your cheek rubs against his chest when he’s carrying you. 

Of course not. 

Later he’ll put in an extension on the paperwork for collecting you, citing various vague reasons for the delay and then he’ll wonder what’s going to happen on the next episode of Succession. He can only guess at how you’ll try to psychoanalyze the characters and how you’ll react to the spoiler he read on his phone earlier. Until then he sits on the edge of your bed while your cat kneads against his thigh, your soft breaths filling the room with a kind of warmth only you can bring.

[infosphere]

Shadows of Desire - Batman And Cat woman

In the heart of Gotham, where the shadows danced beneath the flickering streetlights and the air was thick with secrets, a familiar tension crackled between the rooftops. Batman, the city's enigmatic guardian, stood watch over his domain, his cape billowing in the night breeze. Yet, tonight was different. Tonight, the thrill of the hunt was mingling with something else—a palpable longing that whispered through the darkness. Selina Kyle, known to the world as Catwoman, was prowling the city with her usual grace and mischief. She had a knack for slipping in and out of trouble, but tonight, her heart was not set on thievery. She felt the magnetic pull of the Bat, the one man who had always captivated her—both as an adversary and as something more. As Selina expertly scaled a building, her keen eyes caught sight of him perched on a nearby ledge, his silhouette framed against the moonlight. Beneath the mask and armor, she knew there was a man who understood her in ways no one else could. Their eyes met, and the world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in a moment that felt like eternity. “Out for a midnight stroll, Cat?” Batman’s voice was low and gravelly, laced with the familiar mixture of annoyance and admiration. “Just looking for a little excitement, Bat,” she replied, a playful smirk on her lips. “You know how it is. Gotham can get awfully boring without a little chaos.” “Chaos is your specialty,” he shot back, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his stern demeanor. She stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking as the tension thickened. “You keep trying to catch me, but I think you enjoy the chase as much as I do.” Batman’s expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his responsibilities slipped away. “And what if I told you that the chase isn’t the only thing I enjoy?” Selina’s breath caught in her throat. There was a vulnerability in his tone that she had rarely heard. “Then maybe we should change the rules of the game.” With a swift movement, she closed the gap entirely, her body brushing against his. The electricity of their connection surged through the air, and for a heartbeat, they were no longer Batman and Catwoman—the hunter and the hunted—they were simply Bruce and Selina, two souls drawn together by fate. “Selina…” he murmured, but she silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. “Let’s not complicate things, Bruce. Just for tonight, let’s forget the masks and the roles we play.” Her voice was sultry, coaxing him into a moment of surrender. He hesitated, the weight of his dual life pressing down on him. But the desire in her eyes was undeniable. In that instant, he made a choice. He leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was fierce and passionate, igniting a fire that had long been smoldering between them. Time stood still as they lost themselves in each other, the world of Gotham fading into the background. It was a kiss filled with longing, with unspoken words, and the promise of something more. As they pulled away, breaths mingling in the cool night air, Selina looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, that’s more like it,” she teased, a playful glint in her gaze. “But don’t think this means I’m giving up my nighttime escapades.” He chuckled softly, the weight of his vigilante persona lifting for just a moment. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just know that when you slip away into the shadows, a piece of me will always follow.” Selina smiled, her heart racing. “Then let’s make this a night to remember.” With that, they leaped off the rooftop together, the thrill of the plunge matching the exhilaration of their newfound connection. As they soared through the Gotham skyline, Batman and Catwoman embraced the chaos of their lives, bound by an unbreakable bond that transcended the darkness. Together, they would navigate the fine line between love and rivalry, forever entwined in the shadows of desire.

By Infosphere, follow, like and share for more stories!!

[angelicsjn]

what if darling pranked the yans saying something like “are you using me for my body” (i know the yans probably don’t even have a sense of humor… and would hate it…. but it’s still a bit funny….)

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A N: Thank you for all of the requests. They're all so fun to read. If I don't post this early (speaking to myself here...) There will be a sudden be a load of posts so I can get a lot of the requests done in one big go — that's the plan, but we shall see...

A B O U T: You're feeling a little silly, and the boys react to it.

W A R N I N G S: None.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman looks up from his phone, his jaw locking as he gauges your expression — at first he’s aggravated by such a stupid accusation.

Then, he notices the glint of humour in your eyes. A rare flicker of a smile reaches the edges of his steel eyes as he shakes his head.

“Don’t be silly, darling.” He mutters, his accent warm and his tone soft with a lacing of humour. 

He wouldn’t really react to stuff like this, he can read you like the back of his hand and is able to notice if you’re being serious or not. 

And when he sees that you’re joking, he just simply laughs on the inside at your silliness, but it's a rarity he lets it show, he’s usually too calm and in control of his actions and reactions to do that (unless he’s drunk…).

— LATEN REED.

Laten is shaking in his boots, he’s so scared that you’d think something like that of him — due to his past and how he’s acted before, his biggest worry is that you’ll believe things like what you just said to him. 

He plops his bottle on the grass and looks at you with a small frown. He couldn’t see your grin due to the bindingness of the sun, and his wide green eyes squint in worry.

“Really?” His voice is angst stricken. “Do you really think that?” 

“No, oh my god, Laten.” You’d say, laughing loudly.

His shoulders sag, and he begins laughing with a huge sigh of air.

“I love you, but never do that shit again.” 

Laten would find it funny afterwards, but at first, he worries that deep down, you think what everyone else does.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

I wouldn’t if I were you.

The other’s can find humour in it. This man does not.

You can laugh as you say it and all he hears is you disrespecting him, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You would look at him in shock, maybe worry as his eyes look at you wild with disbelief. 

“It was a joke.” You say, trying to save yourself the headache.

“Don’t make stupid jokes,” his eyes cut your way angrily. “You aren’t funny.”

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

He laughs as soon as you say it because clearly it's a joke. He knows that you know how infatuated he is with you.

“That’s funny.” He shakes his head, patting his hand on your head before pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You know that I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “For more than your body, that’s just a very, very nice bonus.”

Honestly, he’s super sweet in moments like this because not only does he find you funny, but he also compliments you.

— HAYDEN WEST.

“What?”

This poor boy didn't even hear you, he moves his headset and leaves it hanging around his neck as he looks back at you with a small look of confusion. 

“You know… I feel like you use me for my body.” You repeat.

“Oh.” He says, staring into your soul before awkwardly laughing. “You are joking… right?”

“No.” Your head shakes his way.

Suddenly, he’s silent and worried. Rubbing his chin, he stumbles on his words and suddenly looks as pale as a ghost because what can he say to that?

Admit to everything that he’s ever done? His stalking. Obsession? Hell no, fuck that.

“But… What made you think that? Did I do something wrong?” 

This sweet boy is so worried. When you reassure that it’s all a joke, he then laughs and honestly looks so relieved.

I hope you feel bad for upsetting this poor man!

— JOSHUA WHITE.

“That is a joke, yes?” He asks, looking away from his book.

He watches you closely, he knows that it's not true, he’s read your diary and knows that you feel safe and content in his presence. 

“No.” You shake your head, egging the joke on.

“Mhm.” Joshua thinks for a moment. “You aren’t funny, love.” 

That’s when you laugh, and a smile cracks across his soft features, laughing a little too.

“Never become a comedian.” 

— BLAKE CROSS.

“Don’t fuck around with me.” He voices over the music, a toothy smile against his lips but it doesn’t meet his brown eyes.

Laughing a little, he looks away from the road and sees your face as you hold back a laugh.

“Come on, it’s funny.” You whine.

“You’re an idiot.” He shoots back, looking towards the road.

He does laugh, he does find it funny. 

But he also doesn’t like to feel insulted. He’d remember such a joke.

Perhaps he’d flip the switch and use it back on you, see how you like it.

[remuslupinslittleslut]

OK I tried a incorrect quotes thing, here're my faves oki

Sirius & James: We have fun, don’t we, Remus? Remus: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life. --- Regulus: Guess what? Remus: What? Regulus: No, you have to guess. Remus, thinking: I don’t know. Regulus: Sirius is in the hospital. Remus: Why would you make me guess that?! Remus: What happened?! --- James: How would you like your coffee? Regulus: As dark and as bitter as my soul. James, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar! --- Remus: Do you want to know your gay name? Sirius: My... my gay name? Remus: Yeah, it's your first name- Sirius: Haha. Very funny Remus- Remus: *gets down on one knee* And my last name. Sirius: Oh- oh my god. --- Sirius: Wow, they really hate us. Remus: Yes, perhaps they’re homophobic. Sirius: But we’re not gay, Remus. Remus: Sirius: Remus: We’re not? --- Regulus: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Regulus: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time. --- Sirius: Regulus, you're testifying in an aggravated assault case tomorrow, and the D.A. is worried about how you'll present yourself on the stand. Regulus: Why? I'm fine on the stand! flashback to Testimony #1 Regulus: Look, I'll make this real simple so even these dumdums can understand. Regulus, to the jury: MAN DID CRIME. flashback to Testimony #2 Regulus: I'm sorry, could you make her stop doing that weird thing with her face? Defense Attorney, next to the crying defendant: …Crying? flashback to Testimony #3 Regulus: And when this is over, I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna break those little fingers. Judge: Could the witness please stop threatening the stenographer? --- James: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in? Regulus: What's the taser challenge? Sirius: We tase eachother, then drink. Regulus: How do you win? James: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

I think maybe I've seen some of these before, but I thought they were fun so here ya go

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 51

He didn't care, didn't marvel that he was soon to be airborne on one of those incredible beasts. Didn't care that tomorrow, they would all take on the dark army gathered beyond.

He'd fought in more battles, more wars, than he cared to remember. Tomorrow would be little different, save for the demons they'd slay, rather than men or Fae.

Demons like his former queen, apparently.

He had offered himself to her, had wanted her, or believed he did. And she had laughed at him. He didn't know what it meant. About her, about himself.

He'd thought his darkness, Hellas's gifts, had been drawn to her, that they'd been matched.

Perhaps the dark god had wanted him not to swear fealty to Maeve, but to kill her. To get close enough to do so.

Lorcan didn't adjust his cape against the gust of frigid air off the distant lake. Rather, he leaned into the cold, into the ice on the wind. As if it might rip away the truth.

There was no fear or pity on her face, her black hair gilded by the torches and campfires. Of all of them, she'd mastered the news with little difficulty, stepping up to the desk as if she'd been born on a battlefield.

"I didn't know," he said, voice strained.

Elide knew what he meant. "We have bigger things to worry about anyway."

He took a step toward her. "I didn't know," he said again.

She tipped her head back to study his face and pursed her mouth, a muscle ticking in her jaw. "Do you want me to give you some sort of absolution for it?"

"I served her for nearly five hundred years. Five hundred years, and I just thought her to be immortal and cold."

"That sounds like the definition of a Valg to me."

He bared his teeth. "You live for eons and see what it does to you, Lady."

"I don't see why you're so shocked. Even with her being immortal and cold, you loved her. You must have accepted those traits. What difference does it make what we call her, then?"

"I didn't love her."

"You certainly acted like you did."

Lorcan snarled, "Why is that the point you keep returning to, Elide? Why is it the one thing you cannot let go of?"

"Because I'm trying to understand. How you could come to love a monster."

"Why?" He pushed into her space. She didn't balk one step.

Indeed, her eyes were blazing as she hissed, "Because it will help me understand how I did the same."

Her voice snagged on the last words, and Lorcan stilled as they settled into them. He'd never ... he'd never had anyone who-

"Is it a sickness?" she demanded. "Is it something broken within you?"

"Elide." Her name was a rasp on his lips. Lorcan dared reach a hand for her. But she pulled out of reach. "If you think that because you swore the blood oath to Aelin, it means anything for you and me, you're sorely mistaken. You're immortal-I'm human. Let us not forget that little fact, either."

Lorcan nearly recoiled at the words, their horrible truth. He was five hundred years old He should walk away—he shouldn't be so damned bothered by any of this. And yet Lorcan snarled, "You're jealous. That's what truly eats away at you."

Elide barked a laugh that he'd never heard before, cruel and sharp. "Jealous? Jealous of what? That demon you served?" She squared her shoulders, a wave cresting before it smashed into the shore. "The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you."

Lorcan hated that the words landed like a blow. That he had no defenses left where she was concerned. "I'm sorry," he said. "For all of it, Elide." There, he'd said it, and laid it out before her. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

But Elide's face did not warm. "I don't care," she said, turning on her heel. "And I don't care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.

"I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her."

"And that means he earns my forgiveness?"

"No. But you have to realize that he swore the blood oath to Aelin for you. For no one else. So he could remain near you. Even knowing well enough that you will have a mortal lifespan."

The birds shifted on their feet, rustling their wings in anticipation of flight. She knew. Had known it the moment he'd knelt before Aelin. Weeks later, Elide hadn't known what to do with it, the knowledge that Lorcan had done this for her. The longing to talk to him, to work with him as they had. She'd hated herself for it. For not trying to hold on to her anger longer.

It was why she'd gone after him tonight.

Not to punish him, but herself. To remind herself of who he'd sold their queen to, how profoundly mistaken she had been.

And her parting line to him ... it was a lie.

A disgusting, hateful lie.

Elide turned to Gavriel again. "I don't—" The Lion was gone. And for the cold flight over the army, then over the sea of darkness spread between it and the ancient city, even that wise voice who had whispered for the entirety of her life had gone quiet.

[countlessrealities]

@questionablemuses sent: He's just going to flop himself across Alastor's lap purely by coincidence & convenience. "You're my pillow now. Deal with it, cause I'm not moving." ( -shoves a random Vox for Alastor for annoyance- c: )

Alastor visibly startles at the sudden, more than unexpected weight that drops on his legs. The rest of the residents are out, pursuing Charlie's latest activity, so he had decided to take a seat in one of the lounging rooms, alone with a mug of coffee and the daily newspaper. Quiet time is hard to come by these days and, while he thoroughly appreciates the entertainment, at times he still needs his moments of peace and solitude.

Pity that his plans have been ruined before he could even get properly comfortable in his spot.

What the fuck......?

"...Vox?!"

The name leaves his mouth in the same way one would help after they have accidentally stepped on something disgusting, a mixture of stunned horror and rising annoyance.

What in the Seven Rings was that idiot doing at the Hotel? His self-appointed rival is the last person he would expect to see inside those walls, or even anywhere near the building.

Vox should be very much grateful for his shock, because it's the only thing that has kept the Radio Demon from tearing him into shreds the moment their bodies have touched.

"͓̽W͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽k͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽'͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽, ͓̽o͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽a͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ?" He asks, static already starting to distort his voice.

A clawed hand raises, but Alastor finds himself posing for an additional moment before he can push the other Overlord off. Vox looks...odd. His limbs are a little too relaxed, his screen keeps wobbling lightly from side to side and he can see little glitching spots popping up at random. Not to mention the stupid, half lost look on his face.

Was the brainless bunch of circuits intoxicated? That would explain his boldness. Nonetheless, it doesn't make the whole situation even more unpleasant to deal with.

The static grows louder as shadows pool all around Alastor, shaping into thick, eerie tentacles. They roughly grip at Vox's limbs and middle, carelessly ripping him out of his chosen spot. The other Overlord would find himself on the floor, but not before one of the appendages has smacked him hard across his screen. Not violently enough to break it, but almost.

An obvious warning.

" N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅÝ̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏G̶̺̥̎̄͌͑͂̔̏̓̂́̈́͜͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅ O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅŖ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑X̶͌̓͌̅͆̈́��̨̢̗͍̪͚͍̱̭̣̰̳̠̊̅̓̿T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔ W̵̰̻͍̉̔̅̀̐͐͒͆̒̚I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂Ḩ̵̛̘̤͙͔̝̫̖̻̦̞͙̺̅̿͘͝Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕Ȩ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜L̷͖͈̓͌̎̉͒͗͂̓̌̚͝ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏N̸̡̧͕͙̼̻̳̦̪̞̯͎̦͓̏̒͌͑͒͊̾͌̑̅̕͝ͅḐ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ą̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜ Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅU̴̡̢̱̳̳͓̗͔̮̔͜͜͜Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅ V̵̧͖͙̲̯̞͇̲͔̤͊̔͌͂͆͑́́̑͒͝O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅI̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔C̴̀͐ͅȨ̸̪̯̗̘̥̣̲̣̣͍͚͙̥̩́̀̈̆͑ T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕O̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅ M̶̧͚̪͉̯̜̰͎̘̀͋̇̀͗̍́͆̑̏͂̿̊̚Ý̴̥͙̘̇̈́̇̃͒̿́͘͘͝͝ͅ B̶̨̛̺̤̱̾̀́̋̔̆̏̎͘͘Ŗ̷͇̙̰̭̪̟̺̲̜̹͔̎̍́ͅO̵̧̗͕̹̼̦̗̮̱̝͆͊́́̈̿̋ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ḑ̷̮̳̣̟͉͋͗̓̕͜C̴̀͐ͅĄ̵̺̰̻̻͔͇͓̈́̓͛̏̈́͌͋̄̑͆̏Ś̸͙̺̥̰̯͙̭͆̏͂T̷̡̧̬̲̭̦̘̩̊̉͛̓̓̌͌̕. "

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

When British writers come up with an American character’s dialogue and give them the most painfully British things to say with their American accent and inflection and it makes the actor come off as stiff. :P

[ghstfacr]

🍷 / rafe ( @kildaeres )

social media / texting prompts .

send 🍷 for a drunk text from my muse

[ text : rafe 🫠 ] hey uyo should com eover [ text : rafe 🫠 ] what if w e k issde [ text : rafe 🫠 ] do u thikn we sholud kiss [ text : rafe 🫠 ] i thsink so [ text : rafe 🫠 ] doign shots lol c ome jioin !! [ text : rafe 🫠 ] photo message

[ text : rafe 🫠 ] u cna come recsucue me from th e big bad pogseus 🤪

[firewoodfigs]

wdym i should be sleeping i’m writing songs at midnight 😭 (lyrics in the tags heehee no prizes for guessing who it’s about) (i am so normal about this stupid ass crybaby and this stupid ass ship)

[coconut530]

NO ONE TOLD ME

NO ONE TOLD ME CYBERNAUTICA WAS ENDING SO I LISTENED TO THE NEW EP JUST LIKE ANY OTHER AND THEN LITERALLY JUST

[astaricn]

Tags

[rosicheeks]

Nothing Compares by Sinead O'Connor (RIP)