#Reiterating: I’m fine

[therantingsage]

The poem. I called it Hole.

To speak

To explain

To share feelings

To share experiences

To tell others how you feel

To tell others how they make you feel

It is how the world turns

I speak

I explain

I share my feelings

I share my experiences

I tell others how I feel

I tell others how they make me feel

And they fail to hear

My words fall on deaf ears

Or worse, they fail to understand my meaning

My feelings were wasted

Or worse, speaking them aloud was

The words set free, but uncomprehended, they are unreturned

An emptiness left behind in my chest where they once sat

The effort wasted, I wish I hadn’t spoken at all

I ponder keeping it all in

Because if I did, the weight in my chest would be heavy

But at least there would be something there

It feels like all I do is talk to myself

I had grown used to being unheard, and took comfort in it

Of being the quiet listener

Now, I do have those who hear me

But that comes with the risk that they hear me wrong

That I may be forced to confront people who hear me wrong on purpose

I’d rather stay silent

Carve this hole in my chest myself rather than let others do it for me on accident, or not

I’m fragile

Too fragile

Too fragile for kindness or cruelty

Too fragile for

Too fragile for any opinion at all

Because cruel words pierce my heart

But kind ones set the weight of expectations on my shoulders

And yet I crave attention

The good kind so I can know I’m doing anything right

The bad kind so I can know that I have enough of an impact to attract dedicated ire

I write to unravel my brain one thread at a time

I write to unravel my heart one thread at a time

Eventually one of these threads will fix me

The one piece of me that makes me this way

I want to find it

Want to take it out

I don’t want to feel this way anymore

I don’t want people to be upset on my behalf

I’d rather die than lessen someone’s fun

Because nothing makes me feel worse when that happens to me

And yet

It makes the hole grow bigger when people laugh and smile without me

It’s selfish

I’m selfish

I don’t hate myself

But sometimes I wish I did

I want to watch things burn

If I felt no pain, I’d probably watch myself burn

But I don’t want to

But I do

But I won’t

But I wish I could

Please leave me by the wayside

Unless I ask for a hand to hold

Because I’m warm on my own

But if I ask for a blanket and am ignored

I’ll wish I hadn’t asked at all

The weight of my wasted words dragging me to the deep

One thread at a time

One thread at a time

One thread at a time

One thread

Fill this hole in my chest with my own

Words

Hopes

Pleas

Tears

Smiles

I wish I had more to give

And I wished less was asked of me

Do I have an excuse?

I don’t know

I wish I had more to say

I wish I had less to say

I wish I could stop burning

I wish I didn’t want to burn bridges

Because I do

I do

I want to put every piece of awkwardness behind

Buried in the ground

Watered with vinegar

Earth scorched and lifeless

Leave me be

I don’t think I’ve earned kindness

I don’t think I need to earn it

But life feels like a transaction sometimes

With a price in enthusiasm I can’t pay

I wish I could opt out

Just exist without fee

Just exist

Drift

Drifting here

Drifting away

Oh the irony

How I love boats

But hate everything about them but being on them

There’s so much to do

But nothing left to do

What am I going to do?

Nothing

Nothing?

Nothing.

I’m sorry

The weight of these words is wasted

This hole carved by the silence

Anyone wanna hear a depressing vent poem from like July of last year? Sometimes I look at it and find myself surprised by how well I wrote it. Feels like. Startling. The way I articulated my point. And art is for helping others do the same thing I think so I wouldn’t mind sharing if it helps other people put words to feelings of their own

[formulanni]

Girl I just saw your post about how people were fighting in the comment section of your Lando post and I'm just like ⁉️⁉️

Why are people like this

Honestly though I love your art and really love the Lando tarot as well

I DONT KNOW IM LOSING MY MIND

There were a good amount of reblogs with like. Stuff about me wanting him dead (?) in the notes but now I can’t find those so I assume ppl read the card description and deleted lol?

People on twitter are also trying to misconstrue it and say that it’s a death threat or something I’m actually so upset lol

But thank you!!! I’m glad you like it :-)

[angelnumber27]

*he spilled my cup of paint water all over everything idk why I said he spilled watercolors I just woke up girls

I literally walked away for two minutes tops to make coffee and came back to his ass sitting on this water color palette and my painting open after spilling my watercolor water all over it

Look at that face. He knows he did something wrong hahahha

[vetchtibbles]

in the throes again

[stellarcuriosity]

✦The Intention ✧ Supernova ✦

✧ History ✧

In the Prehistoric Eras of Cybertron, Supernova was considered an apex predator. She utilized exceptional tracking skills and calculating precision in taking down her prey. She had her own territory and often went head-to-head with others of her species, such as Predaking. Myths and horror stories began to circulate about a beast who would lure its prey in with sorrowful song-like cries accompanied by a ringing bell and then would suffocate its prey in stars and deep space before snuffing out their sparks. This was due to Supernova’s nocturnal hunting techniques as well as her jet-black wing plating that seemed to glimmer like a night sky splattered with stars. The stories about her seemed to die out with that of the Great Cataclysm, an event that wiped out the Predacons, where her remains were left with many others in an ancient Predacon Graveyard

✦ Strategy ✦

When you are being hunted by Supernova, hiding is not an option. Due to her natural Predacon instincts, she is exceptional at tracking, and once she finds a trace of energon or any other fluid or scrap from her target, it will pursue the target relentlessly until it is wiped out. Supernova’s tracking abilities seem to be nullified if target is underground or underwater- however once the target has emerged, they are once again the primary focus of Supernova. Due to its massive size, finding a space with tighter corners, narrow passageways, and several obstacles will delay her catching you and allow you to get more distance away. In early stages of hunting, she will utilize the ‘bell’ chamber upon her chest to jingle with a sound that is comparably much smaller to Supernova’s own noises and alluring to any larger predators. She couples this sound with a low droning that could sound like ‘crying or wailing’, enticing other species to investigate the sound. Due to it primarily being a nocturnal predator, utilizing bright flashing lights near her optics can cause her to become disoriented, especially when accompanied with loud sounds near her audials. Supernova’s narrow snout allows for her to be more precise in biting, ripping and tearing, and coupled with her claws, she can inflict several wounds upon a target in rapid succession. She has a more wire-y frame and is less bulky than most Predacons, so it can be overpowered by titans and other larger Predacons.

✧ Behavior ✧

Supernova was an excellent, ruthless hunter. She guarded her territory fiercely, refusing to leave even with the Great Cataclysm wiping out life on the surface of Cybertron. It often got into scuffles with other Predacons, though it preferred to strike while it had the upper claw in battle. Supernova was especially conniving when it came to hunting, stalking, and tracking prey as she utilized the bell-shaped device on her chest to give off alluring sounds, and her warbling cries sounded like a sparkling in distress. After luring in her prey, she would quickly snuff out their spark and drain their energon. She has never been seen in an alternative mode other than her primary form, and many believe this to be an intentional choice. When she hunts and her prey is surely captured, she does enjoy playing with her food when she knows they have little to no chance of survival (such as prior injury or being trapped to a certain extent). Another technique at its disposal is the ability to spit up coolant onto a target and following it up with an electrified tail-whip to electrocute its prey. When hunting, Supernova can be seen salivating, though it is likely trying to gather as much coolant to spit out at a target. Supernova is a taker, and once it sets its sights on something, it will relentlessly pursue and never give up the hunt. 

[ink-the-squid-gremlin]

Endouma is a terrible ship, and here is why.

‼️WARNING‼️: Post not only contains semi spoilers for KNY, but it also contains mentions of things like suicide, depression and noncon/sexual assault. If you are uncomfortable with those topics, please refrain from reading.

TLDR: Enmu and Douma are not compatible with each other because that ship is mostly built up on fetished MLM tropes, overly sexualized versions of the characters and the romanticization of SA.

(God, I feel like I have been posting nothing but hot takes on this account as of late. I promise I will go back to posting art, cosplays, and more just chill stuff after this.)

Enmu and Douma are not characters that should not be shipped together, for multiple reasons. Starting off, THEY ARE NOTHING ALIKE!!!! I don’t know where or how it was decided that they were alike, or that Enmu is “Douma 2.0”, but it makes no sense. While both are meant to be irredeemable monsters, Enmu was an irredeemable monster from the get go. From what we know about his backstory, he knew he was scamming people and targeting the weak and vulnerable for it. Douma’s backstory goes a bit more in depth and explains that he was put into the role of “all mighty god” as a child, which lead to the power of it going to his head as he grew up. Douma was still an impressionable child who was failed by the adults around him, and as he grew up he took on some of those same traits as the adults he was surrounded by. The bottom line is this: Douma, while a shitty person, still has some way to sympathize with him, Enmu does not, and thats just on the story side of things.

Enmu and Douma also share nothing in common personality wise. On face value, they may kinda act similar (i.e how they talk (sorta)) but it really just stops there. Enmu ultimately had a goal to kill Tanjiro and gain more blood from Muzan so he could climb the ranks of the demon hierarchy. He wanted to gain more power and to overthrow one of the upper moons for the sake of power. He doesn’t care how many people he has to torment, hurt or kill, as long as he has spot in power, he is happy, hell, he literally has vulnerable and even sick children do his dirty work! Enmu is a sick and twisted individual and he prides himself on that. Douma on the other hand put on the happy and up beat facade to hide that he knows he was failed. Douma is aware he was failed as a human, and so he decided to fail his followers by being the embodiment of false hope. He plays into the false icon lifestyle by pretending to be hopeful and happy around his followers and even the other demons to an extent. He doesn’t care so much about power, rather he cares more about control. Douma keeps up his false religion persona to keep control over his followers. He knows he’s failing them, but he doesn’t want to lose the control he has over them.

Now onto the elephant in the room: the mischaracterization I’ve seen of both of them in the Endouma ship. In both fanart and fanfics I’ve seen and read (well more so forced down my throat since thats all I’ve seen with Enmu in recent times) both Enmu and Douma are mischaracterized to high hell just so we as the reader/viewer will feel pity for them. I’ve seen more of this with Enmu, in that all the stuff that made him unique from the other KNY demons is stripped away so his “savior boyfriend” Douma can comfort him and coddle him. Now, writing an AU is one thing, but if you’re just going to make content of the ship with the characters as they are in the series, then their actual personalities should be honored or at the very least acknowledged.

Going more in depth about the mischaracterizing I’ve been seeing with Enmu, almost all (ALMOST all, not all in general) Endouma content I’ve seen have made him either a depressed and anxious baby that Douma is meant to coddle, or an overly fetishized hyper feminine man thats there simply for sexual reasons. It just goes against their roles in the story of KNY.

Going off of the hyper feminine man mischaracterization of Enmu I’ve seen in regards to the Endouma ship, having him be pretty much a “femboy” not only contradicts him as a character, but it also is pushing toxic heteronormativity on a queer relationship. Making Enmu essentially the “woman”, while putting toxic heteronormativity in a very much MLM ship, it also just boils him down to a sex object and nothing else. Now, I will not say that portraying Enmu as a very sexual and even gross character is wrong, because there were plenty of scenes in KNY of him that had very sexual and perverted undertones, but that is what they were, undertones. There is more to his character than just the sexual undertones he has (as I stated earlier when describing him), and by boiling him down to a “sex doll” for Douma just kind of shows that there wasn’t much of an understanding of his character while making the ship art or a fic. He is much more than a sex object.

Moving onto the mischaracterization I’ve seen of Douma, while not nearly as bad as Enmu, it still feels very off from his character. Making Douma someone who GENUINELY cares for another person is also very contradictory to how he acts in the series. He is someone who cares very little for anyone he comes to meet, whether it be his followers or other demons. Now you may be asking “but, Ink! Douma saw Daki and Gyutaro when they were on the verge of death and decided to save them!” Which is exactly what I am talking about. The only reason he “saved” them was to keep up his facade of a savior and to get himself “brownie points” (for lac of a better term) so his public appearance would look good. Because he cared very little for Daki and Gyutaro, it shows that he only cares about looking like a good person and nothing else. Portraying him as essentially “Enmu’s therapist” that coddles him and such just feels weird. Douma has no emotional connections to anyone, so why would he have an enmotional connection to a demon that is considered lower than him?

Now similar to what I said about Enmu earlier, Douma is also much more than a sex obsessed pervert. Douma being portrayed as basically a male nymphomaniac in the Endouma ship is a very strange way to portray his character. Yes, he may have been fine with letting women seek refuge in his temple, but again, it was to make him seem and look like a good person. We should all know, or at least have the understanding that Douma is literally a woman eater. The women he houses in his temple ultimately have the fate of being nothing more than food. Viewing his reason for taking in women as something sexually driven is a complete misunderstanding of his actions. This misunderstanding of Douma paired with the sexual misunderstanding of Enmu not only creates a toxic relationship, but it also fetishizes and sexualizes MLM pairings. This is something I’ve noticed more in Endouma art, but a lot of it that I have seen feels very fetish-y. I can’t go too in-depth about this aspect, as I am a queer woman, but the way the ship is portrayed in a lot of the art I have seen of it feels as though it is pandering to the appeal of yaoi obsessed straight girls. While yaoi has been a term used for decades to refer to MLM based pairings in media like anime and manga, over the past couple of years, its meaning has become more based around fetishizing MLM pairings rather than just being about MLM pairings.

I now want to bring up something that I’ve seen associated with Endouma (and also the Enmuzan ship, but that is a topic for another time) that really makes me uncomfortable, and that is noncon and the romanization sexual assault. I don’t want to talk too much about this topic, as it is not only triggering for me, but it should also be common sense that fetishizing sexual assault is wrong. Again, this is more so something I have seen in artwork, but it seems almost normalized for Douma to be portrayed forcing himself onto Enmu. Now, I know you are all probably saying “Ink, if you don’t like it/are triggered by it, then don’t interact with it”, but when its all that has been made in regards to newer Enmu content as of late, and how people are hyping it up, its kind of hard to avoid. It makes me truly question just how many people really missed the point of their characters, and only focused on things like Enmu being more androgynous, and Douma being tall and muscular. In a general sense, if a ship is built on, or is popular from fetishized and romanticized sexual assault, it shouldn’t be a ship.

Finally, I just want to mention that these characters have NEVER once interacted in canon. I know that hasn’t stopped people from shipping characters before, but it’s just something I want bring up. (As well as the fact that the Upper Moon’s hate the Lower Moons)

I want to end off this post by saying that all of this is by no means targeted at a specific person, nor am I trying to say that my opinion is correct. I am just stating my own opinions and just stating observations I have made after being in the KNY/Enmu fanbase for nearly 4 years now. People are allowed to ship characters together (within reason) however they like, but just be aware of how it will look on your own part, and what views it may look like you have.

[acesammy]

While I do still think sam’s anti-Benny stance in the beginning of s8 is wildly out of character, it does make sense that Sam (in a season where all of his mistakes are consistently thrown at him) would be deeply jealous of Benny (blood sucking freak)

[caterpillarinacave]

The way I don’t give a shit

[celestial-toys]

*closes 13 tabs on astrology and greek mythology*

ES Ch.5… is now complete.

[future-crab]

Thanks for all the people who sent nice asks! Responding to them all in a row felt weird and embarrassing but I really wanted to let everyone know how much I appreciate the kind words! Love you all ❤️❤️❤️

[lavenderjewels]

I’m too busy rn to write a whole thing on my thoughts on this jjk chapter (now it’s officially translated and out) but it’ll be good to have more time to sit on it

[justagirlinacape]

Don’t know if this is a common experience, but in my brain my friends are not allowed to have two nice things.

For example

One time my friend was wearing a really cute outfit, so I’m telling her how good she looks, hyping her up ya know, and so are my other friends. She accepts the compliments, then tells us that she got the closure really cheep and the whole outfit cost two dollars total. Immediately all of us who were just complimenting her start cursing her out (in a joking manner, of course) all like “fuck you and your cute ass skirt” we all laughed about it and moved on

But like why? Had it been just a cute outfit, or just a cheep outfit there would have been nothing but compliments. But as soon as there’s a second part…….

Idk, I was just thinking about that

[caffeiiine]

i can technically say i’ve been assigned it/her in a dream

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[pellucid-constellations]

If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part 2

“You never listen! I have tried over and over to get you to understand but it’s like you don’t even care.”

Azriel’s brow twitched in irritation, the only tell on his otherwise passive face. “That is not true. We have sat down and discussed this at length, y/n. I listen.” 

You laughed, an incredulous pressure weighing down your shoulders. “Okay, fine. You listen, but you never hear me, Azriel! I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall most of the time.” 

“I can reiterate every word you’ve ever said to me. I hear you and I listen to you.” 

Anger twisted through your gut at his nonchalance. You clenched and unclenched your fists and tried to ignore the heat slowly encroaching upon your ability to remain composed. Although, compared to Azriel, you were not even close to the picture of calm. 

“Tell me why it bothers me then,” you seethed through clenched teeth. “Reiterate it for me, Shadowsinger.” 

Azriel’s jaw shifted as he clasped his hands together in his lap, the faelight in the kitchen clashing harshly with the planes of his face. He leaned back in his chair and let out a tortured sigh that almost sent you reeling. 

“You seem to believe,” Azriel began, his voice a low drawl. “That I am blatantly avoiding you—that I am choosing to serve my high lord in place of spending time with you. Both of which, I am not doing. I simply have a duty to this court, y/n. You know that.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Azriel,” you rolled your eyes. “Making this about duty and honor. Making me seem like I’m the crazy one for being angry when you promised me—” 

“You know there is little I can do about promises,” Azriel snapped, a hint of anger finally showing through in the darkness of his eyes. “You knew when we were mated that I have responsibilities that go beyond our relationship.” 

You pushed back from your seat at the table and set to pacing in the kitchen, fighting the urge to tug at the roots of your hair. “Yes, obviously, Azriel, but this was so important to me. I needed you there and this isn’t the first time I’ve been abandoned without even a word.” 

“Abandoned,” Azriel scoffed. “I would hardly call not showing up to your clinic at the camps one day abandoning you. Rhys needed me to—” 

“I needed you!” you shouted, your hands pressed to the countertops and your gaze frantic as you stared at Azriel’s unmoving figure. “I needed you, Azriel. I had every eye on me in that camp and when Devlon’s men had me yanked from the clinic for what I was doing I needed you to—” 

“He did what?” 

“Oh, don’t act like you care now.” You waved off the staunch posture he had adopted and rolled your eyes for a second time at the piercing hatred that had taken over his expression. “Don’t you dare act like you have the right.” 

“You are my mate, y/n. If anyone put their hands on you—” 

“Well, they did. Bruised up my arms and everything. But you were so busy with your duty to your high lord that you couldn’t give a shit until after I was thrown into the mud surrounded by the women I was supposed to be helping up there.” 

Azriel’s hands turned white as he clenched them in his lap. His lashes fluttered and his brow furrowed and he looked utterly lost at the situation—unable to formulate any kind of response to what could be considered his failure. 

“I thought you were simply setting up the back rooms. I didn’t know you were starting the practice or speaking to the camp,” he croaked, eyes downcast and searching the floor. 

“Except I told you I was. I told you two weeks ago and then again right before I left.” 

“I—I can’t remember you saying that.” 

“Of course you can’t. Because if it isn’t Rhys giving you orders or Cassian leading training you’re absent. You stand right in front of me and you’re not even here.”

Azriel finally looked up from the ground and met your eyes with the same torture his sigh made you privy to earlier. But this time it was rooted in something else—this time, he seemed to finally grasp the weight behind your words. 

But you were utterly sick of trying to get him to this point. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he expressed, pain in the furrow of his brow. “I hadn’t realized—with Rhys just returning to Velaris I’ve been so caught up in—” 

“I’m sorry too,” you cut him off. 

Azriel froze. “What?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the dread begin to rise. You knew you were going to hate this part, but you hadn’t expected Azriel to apologize. He hadn’t apologized for anything in months. You’d been alone in this relationship and he chose the day you’d packed your bags to show remorse.

“I can’t do this, Azriel. Not right now.” 

“Can’t do what?” 

The silence in the kitchen was oppressive. Azriel had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and you were on the other side of the kitchen counter, protected by a barrier you knew you should have put up weeks ago. Your eyes never left his. 

“I can’t do this with you.” 

Azriel breathed in sharply, his eyes widening. “No,” he stressed, heaving up from the chair. “No, y/n, don’t—what do you mean you can’t do this? Explain it to me.” 

Your mate attempted to round the counter and reach for you, but you weren’t going to accept the affection…not when you had been begging for it for months. Not when he was only ready to give it to you now.

You backpeddled until you reached the hall. Azriel didn’t follow, afraid you would take off. 

“I’ve been telling you this was a problem for months now. I thought it was just an adjustment period—I knew that having Rhys back would change things at first and I was okay with that. Your brother returned from hell and you needed to be there to support him. To support your family. 

“But I’m your family, too. And you forgot that. I can’t—I can’t be relying on someone like that right now. I’m doing too much at the camps for you to… forget about me so easily. I can’t keep building you up in my mind just to be disappointed and hurt.” 

Azriel's jaw quivered. 

“Emotionally and physically. I would’ve asked someone else to come to the clinic with me yesterday, but I chose you. And you forgot about me.” 

Azirel looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach, his shoulders caving in with his anguished breath out. You pressed your lips together as you watched him, all of your anger morphing into a twisted sort of guilt that didn’t sit right in your gut. 

“Please,” Azriel whispered. His hands shook at his side. “Please, I’m so sorry, my love. I never wanted—Please, don’t leave me.” 

“You don’t get to have both, Azriel.” Your voice was as weak as his. “You don’t get to have me and treat me like I’m something you deal with on the side. I matter more than— 

Azriel shook his head and broke through your words. “You matter more than anything. I’ve been a fool. I know I’m an ass. Please, let me fix this, my love. Please don’t leave.” 

You clenched your fists so hard your nails embedded into your palms. 

“I need time to be alone.” 

Azriel was quick to nod. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll leave and—” 

“No, I need… more time than that. I have some things packed. I’ll be back, but… I need to leave. I can’t think clearly around you.” 

A choked cry left Azriel’s throat and the sound burned at your waterline. “Where?” 

You only shook your head. 

“Tell me where. Please. How am I supposed to know you’re safe?” 

“How were you supposed to know before?” 

Part 2

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

PICTURE YOU ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩chappell roan — picture you ♩

pairing: pervy pope, jj, john b x reader

cw: sexual fantasies, the pogues being peeping toms, masturbation.

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day five. better late than never!

pope knew was he was doing was wrong. you were his neighbour for christs sake.

at the end of the day, he was but a man— and whilst he had no intention of stooping to full pervert level like this, he had slipped up and bragged to the wrong people, AKA — jj maybank, about how his fine ass neighbour had a certain… routine, every friday night… and would leave her bedroom blinds open for it.

the regret fully kicked in when he opened his front door, seeing the excited expression on his two best friends faces.

“no. i shouldn’t have told you.” is how pope greets them.

“dude it’s fine,” jj reiterates, easily moving past him in the entrance to his house with a clap on the shoulder, an only slightly less enthused john b following closely behind with an awkward but willing smile. “we’re not gonna watch. we’re just gonna… like — happen to glance out the window. while she’s flickin’ the bean.”

“thats — that doesn’t make it any more okay.” pope stresses, following his friends up to his bedroom.

“look, she leaves her blinds open right? isn’t that what you said? have you maybe considered that… possibly, and hear me out on this… she wants to be watched?” john b, usually the voice of reason finds it in himself to convince pope just that little more, wide puppy-like eyes doing most of the convincing. he’s probably the only reason pope hasn’t grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck and hauled them out.

the night goes on, and honestly — the perverted plan is nearly forgotten about until their attention is brought to the window just across from popes, the lamp switching on as you arrived home from work. john b swivels on popes desk chair, nodding his head toward the sight with a whistle.

“oop, shows starting.”

“honey, i’m home.” jj sings out in a high pitched voice, excited for what’s to come.

“you’re so much better than this, john b.” pope deadpans, double taking at jj as he switches off the lights to the bedroom sending them all into darkness. “what the hell?”

“do you wanna get caught creepin’ on your neighbour? no? didn’t think so.”

“you done this before jayj?” there’s a lilt of teasing to the brunettes voice as his blonde counterpart grabs a seat and drags it up beside him, the young adults gathered as they watch your figure dart around the room going about your nightly activities.

“shh.”

the boys curse, ducking down slightly when you suddenly appear at your window, fingers grazing the blinds. they stay deadly still in the dark, barely even breathing as to not draw attention to the fact they’re gathered round to watch you. you look pensive, hesitant, like you’re about to draw the blinds and shut the world out and yet… you don’t. you back away, leaving them open.

“huh.” pope breathes, glancing at his wavy haired friend.

“likes an audience. interesting.” routledge hums, voice deep and breathy.

you begin to undress, and they swear the air in the room gets thicker. peeling your leggings down your legs like they’d been painted onto you for the day creates an audible reaction from your neighbour and his friends, jj even going as far as to stick his knuckle in his mouth.

“god damn.” he garbles, earning a hum of agreement.

“oh you really lucked out here pope. the only neighbour i ever had was a 70 year old woman. trust me when she left her blinds open you look the other way.” john b doesn’t remove his eyes from the scene as he recounts the anecdote, causing pope to screw up his face.

the truth was, pope did have his own fantasies and perversions. he told himself time and time again, he wasn’t watching. he was at his desk first, you left your blinds open. visions of you at the library you worked at, helping him with research in that little mini skirt he saw you wear once. bending over to rummage shelves, sweet fat crescent of your pussy on display through your panties. pope would have no choice but to take you right there on the table behind the bookshelves, the two of you trying to stay quiet as he disappears between your thighs, seeking out that sweet nectar…

when he snaps out of it, you’re already on the bed, in perfect eyeshot of the window. just you, that dim lamp that made your skin seem to glow, an oversized tshirt and some panties.

“you guys don’t feel wrong doing this?” pope speaks in a hushed voice like you might be able to hear.

“how could something so right be so wrong, my friend?” jj pulls out a joint to stick into his mouth, only to have it plucked from his lips and tossed aside by the heyward boy.

“i’m drawing a line.”

“alright, that’s fair.”

“you guys are missing it.” john b hums, entranced by the way you palm at your tits through the top, eyes fluttering shut as your body starts to relax into the bed. “putting on a show for us.”

silence falls upon them finally as they stare, your hands trailing down to lift the hem of your shirt up and over your breasts, massaging the fat and plucking at the nipples.

“oh wow.” pope breathes, jj breaking out into a grin.

“this is some american pie shit right here.”

“grow up.”

“i’m just saying.”

it seems like forever before your hands reach down to your panties, fingers gingerly dusting over the thin fabric of what appears to be baby blue panties with a pink bow at the top centre. jj even swears he can see the gloss of your arousal on your open thighs from where he’s sat. you begin to rub yourself through the material, teasingly and you pull your bottom lip beneath your teeth, sucking in a breath.

“th’atta girl.” john b murmurs, and the air in the room suddenly feels too hot, too stifling. it wasn’t this hot five minutes ago.

“its like i… can’t look away.” pope justifies in just above a whisper, finally perching down to a more comfortable view, watching the way your head tosses side to side, back arching just that little bit as you try and find a better angle. patience leaves you, and you’re pulling the panties off all together.

“would you look at that.” jj marvels, before glancing at his two friends. “y’all mind if i jerk off real quick?”

“what?” pope screws up his face, and john b glances at him.

“yeah, uh. i mind.”

“it can’t wait?” pope adds, shaking his head and jj throws up his hands.

“i thought that’s what we were doing’ here alright my bad!” he dodges john b’s disapproving swat, eyes wide. “oh that’s where you draw the line? y’all are not real freaks.”

“no.” john b shakes his head, pope chiming in with a “thank god.”

but as their attention lands on you once more, your fingers sinking into that glossy hole — they begin to really reconsider their choice.