R. Devil
R. is 27 years old.
He is the Lead Singer of Moth & Flame.
R. is also known as "Devil".
R. is located in London at Serpentine Lido.
R. likes to go for a walk during off hours and is trying to improve skill in order to get ahead professionally.
ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ | ᴙʀ
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ιs thᥱrᥱ ᥒothιᥒg bᥙt thᥱ ᥴoᥣd ᥲt thᥱ ᥴᥱᥒtrᥱ of thᥱ bᥣᥲᥴkhoᥣᥱ?
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You left me empty
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| Game: Popmundo |
| Points: 1790 |
| Days Active: 1551 days |
Latest Blog Post
𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝟐.𝟎
Riot woke up to a call he'd been dreading. One that it didn't matter how long it was coming, he never wanted to take. Never wanted to be real.
Trembling fingers unlocked his phone, accepting the call. The almost robotic voice at the other end feigned an apologetic tone that didn't convey the emotion he was feeling, the feel of having your life taken from you. "Good night Mr. Devil, we regret to inform you that your wife has passed away. We're sorry for your loss."
Static filled Riot's ears as the phone dropped from his hand. The world had started spinning, so fast the had to grab onto the bare walls to keep himself upward. Who the fuck said that heartbreak was a mental state? This fucking thing, this fucking pain he was feeling was very real. Very physical. It felt like he was being ripped open from the middle, with a jagged rotten knife.
But it didn't fucking matter that Riot was falling apart at the seams. It didn't matter that he had never known pain so deep or despair so intense. He had a daughter, they had a daughter. And as much as he wanted to fucking crawl into that grave with the only woman he had ever loved, the only woman he had ever let past his walls, he couldn't. He had to live, for Vida. For that little girl that deserved nothing but love and care. And he would, no matter how hard it was.
A single dad.
A widower.
A fucking failure.
—Riot Devil
Five years ago, I spent Valentine's Day at Chicago's graveyard, with you dying in my arms. Ripping my chest open, trying to save your friend. Now, in another American graveyard, on another Valentine's Day, there's no adrenaline that will allow me to save you again. This time around, you're gone— for good. Wherever you are, remember that the heart that you ripped out of my chest is buried right there, with you. Forevermore, Haley.
Posted 2/8/2025, 2:00 PM
All characters in Popmundo are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.
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