i hear inside voices

2

ルーナ… 今まで聞いてやれなくてゴメン。
Luna… I’m sorry that I couldn’t hear you out until now.

Poetry by star light

Aries

she’s falling through the atmosphere
shattering onto the earth like cascading stars
scattering stardust fresh from heaven
a baby at war
this is just the beginning
she is completely out of control
untamed and inspiring
a ruby glow inferno
i will never let you go
she spins her lucid Alice in Wonderland
imagination into a live playground
spiraling down the chorus of cosmos


Taurus

a crown of flowers wrapped around her head
the sweet perfume of daisies
dripping down her neck
she inherited a palace
a dainty treehouse in the woods
and she would sit and drink tea
and read books like she should
good night
and sweet women, gourmet, and wine
serenity and life
there is a kingdom inside

Gemini

every time you open your mouth I see fireflies of luscious
language flow forth like radiating confetti
like that golden helmet on your marvelous mercury mind
…i see you wield words like they are ingredients in spellbooks
and you feel alone with your thoughts
and you don’t know what’s louder, the world outside
or the chaos within
the madness created by your twin
and you write invitations with your mind
to birthdays that lead to wonderland and poetry tea mixed
inside ~
i can hear and see and feel your voice everywhere


Cancer

she writes poetry on sheets of moonlight
with a pen that pours out ink from the whole
night sky
it’s her creamy words made of moisture beads and dreamy
composition, she can create an orchestra
with lunar lyrics and love notes written by the stars

everything i see in the world
it all comes back to you
because you are my mother, my lover
my daughter and my sister
i can hear the stars whisper
stay wild
my dear
moon child

Leo

if i was a psychic i’d say to a leo that their heart was carrying too much weight.
i’d say you are so involved in the moment that i can hear
the violins of your heart playing and you leave it wide open
and that this is your curse and your gift.
i know you go home and you can’t stop leaking
you can’t stop leaking
the gods are watching you crying
but those tears that fell down the cheeks of great leos like napoleon, max heindel, amelia earheart, helena blavatsky and carl jung
are the ones glistening from your eyes
the gods know how marvelous you are ~ even when you can’t shine

Virgo

shaking and rapidly exhaling, don’t crush your wings
against the weight of your own mind
they were so perfectly, pleasantly, patiently crafted
like the way you use your hands to delicately
thread and rewire and repair
they are like instruments the way they touch everything and leave a
frosted glaze
i always know when you have been because
you leave nothing behind
like you want to be invisible

Libra

she rises from the aroma of a flower
dainty as a forest fairy, honorable as a warrior
fighting for the cause that captures
her musical heart
she’s always on the threshold of a fairytale
she is some delectable mind and figure of
abstract beauty to behold
life is her dance
across cards gently placed
she twirls on imagination and spins in reverie,
a performance of abstract movement,
a tightrope display, a true portrait of balance
and artistry


Scorpio

I want to destroy these monsters
But devastating them
destroys a part of myself
I feel more alive in the shadow
than the light
I prefer the creaking hollow in my bones
to the noise of people, the static, the show
I have been violated
by poisons from hidden valleys
I have been stung by leaking ink
dripping dark words from unconscious levies
Sometimes my body is just a floating
Trying to contain century’s memories
Between my legs the monsters crawl
Trying to perforate every part of me
And I was only just becoming used to this skin 


Sagittarius


she hears wisdom from the mountains
and songs from the sea
she sings the music of every language
and tastes of every herb and spice
something is sultry and glowing in her gaze
she is sunkissed and filled with dreams
that seem written constellations
her mind has wandered everywhere
it has left footprints in every valley and
book, every mind and philosophy
she is like sunday everyday, a vacation
a getaway
a sail into the horizon, a cruise through the stars
a freefall into nature’s arms

Capricorn

look how much you’ve grown
i’ve seen you slowly fill in those eyes
that belong to an old soul
i’ve seen you stretch into those bones
that were always too big for you
and you keep waking up every morning
because you know one day you will be
rewarded
you hold onto the knowing that
things will get better
and you will feel less sicker
and your work will finally be done 

Aquarius

you try to read your own puzzle like a book
with a magnifying glass
as if you are disconnected
on the outside staring in
you are not an abstract entity
i feel you
your body pulsates like electrons exploding
like bubbles of blue foam
your feelings are turquoise crystals over the sea
never tainted but reflecting shades and hues from
unknown galaxies
don’t hide what was crafted so exquisitely

Pisces

there were times she stayed in bed for days
i couldn’t touch her without her bleeding
she had third degree burns
every sense hurts
then she would laugh with god
or angels or something invisible
i am not dealing with a girl
but something magical

Cherry

10
Can’t imagine what it’d be like, without the sounds of all my heroes singing all my favorite songs so I can sing along

Camp Rock (2008) Dir. Matthew Diamond ✰ June 20th, 2008

Douchebag gets it....

So this happened quite a few years ago, and the stage will take some setting. It might be more of a Karma than a Revenge story, but you guys seem to appreciate it when a Douchebag takes it up the ass, so here’s a fine tale…

I was working as a dishwasher in a new Fine Dining restaurant in the downtown of a largish city. Chef Paul came from a rich family with a lot of connections, but he made his own way through culinary school and was both talented and dedicated to his art. His family ponied up the cash for a location right downtown in Office Tower Land, but Chef Paul made the place the “hotspot” for the movers and shakers of the town. Our clientele was the Rolex set, people with a string of initials on their business cards and high-powered job titles.

Chef Paul was the nicest guy you could imagine away from the restaurant, but when he was on the cookline, he was an aggressive and abrupt bully of the old school. It was an open kitchen, meaning you could see it from the dining room, so he never raised his voice, but he could chew you out in a low-volume whisper, all the time with a poker smile frozen on his face. This was his show, his restaurant, his baby, and woe be it to the person who fucked up while Chef Paul had his game face on.

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room for two- jjk(m)

Originally posted by rapmonsexpensivegirl

summer in New York has never been so hot.

(m)-mature / 6.5k words / roomate!jungkook / happy reading !

reqs;  jungkook accidental roommate smut? u accidentally buy the same apartment (it happens in dramas often) (+)  Can I request switch!jungkook smut? Like he starts out submissive and then bOOM! He’s dominant af


Summer in New York had never been more depressing. Or hot. Every step outside seems to melt the flesh from your bones, every memory you had of him peeled another layer off your heart. It had been three months of pure hell and although the heat made the thought of being close to anyone impossibly unbearable, you’d give anything to hold him in your arms again. But he had cheated on you, left you, and the best thing to do was move on. Or at least try.

The weather forecast predicted a humid rain, clouds shrouding the ominous sky and a layer of mystery covering the roof of your new home. Or the new home you’d be sharing with four other people. This is supposed to be the city of new beginnings and independent lives. Where one can explore themselves through the city. But sadly, as a transferred college student, the only thing you could afford was a share house in the middle of Brooklyn.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you grunt while lugging your large suitcase and duffel up the short set of stairs, banging on the door somewhat gracefully with your elbow. Almost immediately, as if you’d been waited upon, the door unlatches and an older, thinner woman appears. Her skin is somewhere between tan and gold, wrinkle lines around her eyes and mouth. The hair atop her head is swirled into an artful bun, small wisps of white-gray hair escaping the masterpiece.

“Just on time,” her voice is sweet, slow, and welcoming, stepping aside and waving you in.

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9:08pm
Do you know what’s fucked up? I still can’t fall asleep before looking out of my window and wondering if you’re doing the same.

10:43pm
I lied, I can’t sleep at all actually and it’s because of you, fuck you.

11:02pm
I don’t want to see you ever again you’ve destroyed me and you don’t even care

11:04pm
I lied, I want to see you one last time.

11:09pm
I just lied to you twice but that is nothing in comparison to the betrayal I felt because of you.

00:21pm
How’s your new life treating you, I hope the alcohol kills you because then you could feel a pain like mine.

00:22pm
Don’t die, please don’t die. I still care about you.

00:53pm
I can’t find anyone who’s lips taste like yours, I can’t find anyone that holds me like you used to. I’ve been searching.

1:30am
Every song on shuffle is reminding me of you, I threw my phone across the room.

2:01am
I feel like you should still be here, I know you’re not but there’s an empty space in my bed.

3:33am
It’s so fucking late but I can hear your voice inside my head and it’s haunting me.

5:21am
I think I can sleep, I’m exhausted emotionally and physically. You’ve broken me.

5:25am
I know you’re asleep right now and you’re dreaming of someone else and oh my god it breaks my heart.

—  sleep tight won’t you?
About Sleep Paralysis

It’s been so long since the last post regarding my recurrent nightmares and dreams, and I wish I could have continued without writing another post about it but unfortunately last night I had another weird dream plus sleep paralysis in the morning. I want to keep track of every hallucination I’ve experienced here, so, here it goes:

The first time it happened I was 14 years old, my grandma had just passed away and I was very stressed between school and shit going on with my life. I remember one night that I was sleeping and suddenly I woke up, but I couldn’t move. I opened my eyes only to see the darkness of my room and the wall in front of me. I was very scared and couldn’t move a single muscle. After trying everything else, I decided to scream but no sound would come out of my mouth. Then I heard a voice saying repeatedly saying: “Come with me. I’m here. Come with me”. I panicked and I don’t remember anything else, I think I probably passed out until the next day.

After that, at least two times a week my sleep paralysis would get worse. I would wake up in the middle of the night not moving at all. I could hear voices outside my house and inside my bedroom. I remember being so scared of sleeping, not knowing what was going on. Things moved on like that for a while. 

Everything continued like that until the hallucinations became worse. One night, after graduating high school I had some sort of “astral projection” “lucid dreaming” stuff going on. I remember dreaming of this place with high grass and watching two skinny dying horses. After walking trough a train rail I got to be in some sort of cave formed by green trees with giant roots stepping out of the ground. I saw snakes everywhere, tiny and big, in all sort of shapes and colours. I finally caught a snake with my hands and saw in its eyes. Then I heard a voice saying “We’ll see again”. When the dream was over I woke up in my room, and again, couldn’t move. This time I felt something under my bed crawling and heard another time: “We’ll see again, find me” repeatedly. 

The worst attack of sleep paralysis and hallucinations I can remember came after that. Maybe half a year later after that weird dream. My room was dark and a little bit cold (it was autumn I think). At the time, I was depressed (I suffer from depression since I was 15). The last thing I did conscious was getting in my bed and trying to sleep on my back. After a few moments I remember waking up very fast, like, something hit me and I woke up suddenly. My body was not responding. I could see my hands, my knees, my feet but couldn’t move at all. Then I started “moving”; everything was heavier and that’s when I started hallucinating. I tried to move my legs and I could feel them moving, but I couldn’t see the movement of them. Weirdly though, I could move my head a little, I could see my room and my wall. And then it came, I don’t know from where, but, at the end of my bed I saw a pair of hands, with three large, large and skinny fingers. Something crawled from under my bed and started climbing it. It was a weird, dark creature. It was skinny, like, very, very skinny, you could see his ribs and spine. I could see his arms, like sticks, and then I saw his face. Whatever it was, it was very dark, like a profound black, and had a weird face, like an oval. The thing had no mouth, no fur, no hair nor nose, just two yellow eyes. The eyes were round shaped, like two glowing perfect circles. The creature was crawling and making weird noises, like a voice mixed with a scream and nails passing trough a chalk board. After it crawled onto my bed, he started laughing, quietly, like, when you laugh with your mouth closed. I just remember trying to move, and scream, and then I felt his arms touching my legs. I don’t know why but I started thinking in weird stuff and trying to scream in my mind: “i’m not going with you, you’re not real, you’re not real”.  I must have passed out or something, cause I can’t remember anything after all. I woke up in the morning, sweating and very scared. 

After receiving the visit of that thing fro at least two or three times more I decided to draw it on my notebooks with everything I could remember.

This has been going on with me for at least 6 years now, and time after time it’s getting worse. However, I think i’ll continue writing everything here, after all, I know i’m not alone, although sometimes it feels like that…

P.S: Dear @sixpenceee, hope you reblog this, cause I want to find if more people are suffering the exact same thing with the exact same creatures.

You’re the Voice I Hear Inside My Head

Summary: For as long as Eddie could remember, he’d been hearing his soulmate’s voice in his head. It had always annoyed him—but hearing it out loud? That was a whole other story.

Words: 1613

Pairing: Reddie

A/N: sorry this took so long y’all i’ve been busy and for some reason this took me a good while to write, but the soulmate au i promised is FINALLY HERE!! pls be nice to me, this is the first reddie fic i’ve ever written/published. feedback is appreciated, i don’t have a beta, so forgive me if i mess up words or tenses or whatever a lot. in this, your soulmate’s voice randomly pops into your head (there isn’t a set event or age that triggers it) and it’s just like having a conversation in your mind. the voice doesn’t know anything the person doesn’t know, so each person still can’t read the other’s mind or anything. it’s just another person’s voice and personality conversing with you in your mind. zany. tags under the cut. please enjoy!!


His mom had never heard anyone’s voice in her head but her own. She didn’t buy into the idea of soulmates (simply because she didn’t have one.) When Eddie told her that he heard someone else’s voice in his head, someone he didn’t know, she immediately took him to the hospital, crying Schizophrenia and Psychosis the whole way. When the nurses informed her that it meant her son had a soulmate, she took him to a different hospital. The only way he could get it to stop was by saying that he had made it up, that he was lying about the voice.

Of course, this meant he just ended up grounded instead of hospitalized, but he did what he had to do.

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Some one request me to do analysis of km hidden moments in bv s1 OK I will watch and do the analysis if I have a time because on one episode I don’t remember which one all the members where outside and km are the only one inside and they have a conversation together I only hear their voice but the way they talk to each other is so soft with a low tone I was shooked when I heard it they sound kinda flirting..

Brat Taming (M) - Final

Genre; S m u t

Length; 1,600+ words

Kink(s); Dirty talk, mild degradation, slight sexual torture

Originally posted by plznot

Needy whines escaped you as your essence flowed out of you, dripping down your bum as Namjoon paced back and forth in front of your vulnerable form. 

His piercing gaze loomed over you- eyeing you up and down as his plush lips curled up into a pompous grin. 
“You look like such a little slut like this kitten…” He teasingly growled as he strutted back over to you, wedging himself back into his place between your shapely legs. 

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your heated core, “Da- Daddy please…” You whimpered, bucking your hips; attempting to give yourself the friction you so badly desired. 

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A Note From Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance's breakup if you haven't read it yet

A note from Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance’s breakup:

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.

[[/MORE]]

It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.

The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.

My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013

We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-

Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.

Fatalism.

That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.

To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.

I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-

When it’s time, we stop.

It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.

You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.

Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.

There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…

I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.

The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.

All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.

What it said is between me and the voice.

I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.

Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.

There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-

That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?

With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.

And another opens-

This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.

He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-

“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.

When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.

I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.

In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.

I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-

Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.

Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-

My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.

Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.

Love,
Gerard

Chanyeol scenario - Bad things

Originally posted by missmanfreda

not requested

genre: angst, smut

Summary: As a trainee for SM, things can be very difficult, but having an enemy along side you can be even more of a challenge. Especially if your enemy has a soft spot just for you.

Warnings: studio sex, fingering

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The Melody In My Head

Jungkook x Reader

Soulmate AU: you can hear your soulmates voice in your head, but only when they’re singing.

Word count: 1031

PARTS: [PT. 1] [PT. 2] [PT. 3] [PT. 4] [FINAL]

[MASTERLIST]

A/N: I was listening to Evermore by Dan Stevens from Beauty and the Beast while writing this…

Originally posted by nnochu

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  • Rowena: *walks through the castle searching for Helga*
  • Rowena: *stops at a door because she hears Godric's voice from inside*
  • Godric: See. I told you you would look good in it. It looks especially nice when you wear your hair like that.
  • Rowena: *giggles quietly* I didn't know Godric and Helga were a couple. That's so cute.
  • Godric: You are beautiful when you blush. Did I ever tell you that? Perfect in every way.
  • Rowena: *cups her mouth with her hands to stop herself from squealing*
  • Helga: *shows up next to Rowena* There you are. I've been searching for you all day! What are you doing here anyways?
  • Rowena: ...
  • Helga: ...
  • Rowena: ...
  • Helga: What?