#there was an excessive amount of ink

[askfembendy]

─═✧✧═─ ℝ𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ─═✧✧═─

[thedevotionaltour]

in terms of art alone im sorry. im a jrjr defender to my last breath you be fucking nice to him. i dont wanna hear shit❗️❗️❗️

[tadpolesonalgae]

Bloodlust.[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: thank you, anon <3, I had a lot of fun writing this 😌

warnings: smut, spitting, hate-sex, slight power imbalance?

word count: 4,170

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“Where’s your report?”

“I thought you were doing it.”

The look Azriel gives you is filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twist into an expression of silent hatred.

“You have thirty minutes to get it written up and on my desk,” he says shortly, words icy and clipped in the exact way that has irritation scratching at the back of your mind. “That’s completely unreasonable,” you reply bluntly. “Besides,” you say, holding his dark gaze, “I thought you were my superior. I was just there to offer assistance, so there’s no need for me to submit a formal report.”

“My desk. Half an hour,” he repeats coldly, his tone blunt and unforgiving. “Not a minute later.”

Then he turns, closing the door with enough force it creates a distinct hissing noise on the way shut, leaving you to struggle with the deadline.

————

Twenty-nine minutes later you deliver three forceful knocks to his door, blood hot as it boils in your veins, report still stuck to your clipboard which is in turn tucked beneath your arm.

“Enter,” he calls, and a muscle in your jaw ticks at the tone. Curt and demanding. Still, you step inside, allowing the door to click shut, dropping the clipboard on his desk on top of a file he was writing in, hopefully smudging the ink as the board clatters upon the surface. “Good enough?” You nearly spit, but manage to tone down the venom just enough.

Thunder claps from outside as your eyes meet, and he picks the report up, leaning back in his chair as he begins to read through the hurried scrawl. You bite down a snappy remark, hands clasped behind your back in proper fashion as you’re forced to wait for him to complete his review. You get the distinct impression he’s taking his time.

His dark eyes pause a third of the way down the page, brows narrowing before dragging his gaze to yours. “The disposal was rushed and excessively violent. Diplomacy would have been preferable, and much more suitable?” He reads aloud, voice rough and gravelly with barely restrained ire.

“You asked for my report,” you counter lowly, unable to help the disagreeable twist of your features as you glare at him. “Diplomacy did not guarantee the mission’s success. It would have been a waste of time,” he replies.

“That’s just like you to rush into violence,” you hiss, nails digging into the skin of your wrist with the amount of restraint you’re using to keep from doing something you’ll regret. “You resort to slaughter at the slightest inconvenience,” you seethe, nails piercing the skin. “Fucking Illyrian,” you spit.

Ire blazes behind his eyes, reflecting the hatred burning in your own gaze.

Not breaking eye-contact, he reaches for a blank sheet of paper and places it before him on the desk, jabbing his finger once down atop the page. “Rewrite it. Now.”

A startled laugh barks from your throat as you stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

You stare at him longer, furious indignation boiling your blood, able to feel as your temper begins to bubble over with blatant provocation. “You’re a spiteful piece of shit,” you seethe lowly but he doesn’t buckle beneath your rage. You wouldn’t hate him as much as you do if you could so easily get the better of him. “You just want me to write a report in your favour. You can’t stand that you might have made the wrong call.”

“It was the right call,” he replies harshly, a hiss in his voice, “your lack of experience is limiting your understanding. I knew you weren’t fit for this mission—I’ll have you moved to a more suitable position.”

“You’re the one in the wrong position,” you spit, stalking forward so you’re right before his desk. “You’re too prone to excessive violence. You needlessly took a life that could have been saved. It would have been of no consequence to us if he lived.”

“His existence would have only perpetuated the problem,” Azriel repeats lowly, his own temper beginning to show as he stands from his desk, palms flattening across its surface as he leans forward. “Purge from the roots, or it will only return. Now write the report.”

Gritting your teeth any tighter would have surely caused one to crack beneath the pressure, and you can perfectly imagine how it would feel to launch yourself across the desk and wrap your hands around his throat. To squeeze until he’s thrashing beneath you, that indomitable figure writhing beneath you as you begin to pry the life from his body…to set him alight and watch him scream.

You ease out a breath, soothed by the surprisingly violent imagery. You aren’t one to generally resort to that kind of solution, but with him it seems almost irresistible…the call of violence, how good it would feel to watch blood bead on his skin.

Frustration slightly abated, you drag the paper from beneath his hold. “Give me the clipboard.”

“You’ll complete it here, where I can see you,” he replies icily.

“Fine. Give me the clipboard,” you bite out, rage already rising again.

“You don’t need it. You’ll write it here,” he says, gesturing to the desk.

A tinge of red creeps into your vision, and it takes all your discipline not to reach for the blades tucked beneath your clothes. Stiff with rage, you drag the paper to the side of his desk, walking around to his side as you take a pen from the pot, making a point of reaching through his personal space. Then, as you’re retracting, you decide you’ve had enough of restraining yourself. “Illyrian scum,” you hiss out, gaze piercing into him as your hand tightens around the pen, clutching it as though it were a blade.

His pupils narrow into slits and his fingers crush at the soft skin of your throat. Your entire body contracts beneath the brutal touch, the tip of steel already poised to slice into leather and cut through his blackened heart. Stalemate.

“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he snarls out gutturally, expression twisted into picturesque wrath, ignoring the stinging pain as you slide the blade deeper, sharp enough to pierce the leather with ease, poised to cut into flesh. He seems to remember himself, hold lightening only marginally…enough you have to pull back on the blade or else he’ll be justified in his hostility.

“Infighting is forbidden,” you manage to get out, making sure to keep the steel close enough to his flesh he knows you won’t hesitate anymore. “You broke a rule, Spymaster.”

“And what will you do?” He asks, cruel mirth glittering in his dark hazel eyes. “Will you try for diplomacy now?” He hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat painfully.

“Why would I bother with a brute?” You rasp back, neither of you bothering to conceal the venom in your voices. “Clear aggression is the only language you’ll understand, so I’ll just have to act in a way that’ll get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Brandishing a weapon against me is enough to have you permanently removed from your position,” he hisses down at you.

“Fine,” you breathe, coming to the same conclusion as he has for the expulsion of rage that’s been building up inside of you. “Hand-to-hand combat it is.”

His hand releases your throat at the same time the blade falls from your fingertips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck as your arms snake over his shoulders, nails raking through his hair as you’re magnetically snatched against one another, hardly a breath of air to be found between your bodies as you’re crushed against one another. Teeth flash as canines scrape, but his fingers dig into the tendon at your neck, forcing you to seize as he pries you apart with his tongue and mouth. Your lip curls in a snarl as he pushes into you, able to see how his wings have instinctively flared at his back, shadows writhing and deepening with unsuppressed fury.

Without giving him a chance to defend your arms surge further down his back, nails brandished as they scratch across the intimate skin of his wings, slicing the leathery surface jaggedly. He recoils, a vicious snarl cutting through the room that has satisfaction blazing across your chest. Rage bleeds across his features and his hand returns to your throat, shoving you down onto his desk, papers flying as ink spills across the surface, pens clattering as they drop to the floor. Your hands fly to his wrist, scratching at his scarred knuckles but his mouth has already descended over yours again and you move to grip at his hair, silky and soft beneath your violent touch. Heat swarms your skin as his shadows pin you down, writhing pleasantly across your body in a way that has your insides fluttering.

Azriel again pries your lips apart, tongue sweeping in as his mouth slants invasively over your own, flicking and stroking while his fingers hold your jaw in a vice-like grip. A strange feeling skitters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, minimising the space between your bodies as he presses flush against your centre.

You can feel him.

Oh Gods, you can feel him completely.

Your mouth parts as you push against him, tongue sweeping across his own, the kisses hot and wet as each of you refuse to lighten your grip on the other and your thighs squeeze him closer, determined you won’t be losing this battle.

Azriel pulls away abruptly, and you look up at him, watching keenly for any move he’ll make, aware what kind of beast you’re taunting. “Keep still,” he commands roughly, voice like gravel as his shadows swarm your body, and you snarl as the hand that was pinning your throat to the desk drops to the hem of your shirt. Before you have a chance to counter he’s lowered to your neck, hair having fallen back onto the surface so he has plenty of room as his shadows shove your face to the side.

You inhale sharply as his teeth graze the sensitive expanse, grip tugging on his hair to get him closer, eager to have him working his mouth over the intimate area. “Hurry up,” you hiss, eager to be rid of the burning heat as soon as possible.

“I’ll go at whatever pace I like,” he replies darkly before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave more than just a mark in his wake. A noise of pleasure seeks to slip from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as he targets a spot just beneath your ear, kissing down your neck as he makes his way to your collar bones, littering your skin with deep bite marks that will surely remain for days, even with accelerated healing.

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that,” you pant, putting as much venom into your voice as you can manage, thighs tightening around his hips so you can feel him more acutely, the thick length of him rubbing over your centre. “And you’re turned on by that?” He counters sharply with a hungry glint in his eyes.

Heat flushes your skin as you make to deny his claim, but his shadows have been untying the laces of your trousers making it easy for him to roughly grip the waistband and shove the material away, dragging it over your thighs and off past your ankles, leaving you with only your underwear to conceal your lower half. “Slow down,” you snarl, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. You hate that he’s the one in charge.

Azriel grips the underside of your thighs, guiding them to wrap snugly around his hips again as his hand slips beneath your shirt again, settling over your breast, fingers skimming your nipple tauntingly. “Hurry up. Slow down. Which one is it?” He goads, something that looks too close to male satisfaction passing through his expression for you to stand. Your lip curls and before you can second-guess yourself you’ve spat at him.

He freezes for a moment, motion halting and you find yourself holding your breath, keeping entirely still beneath him. Waiting for the storm to break.

Fury engulfs his eyes, features twisting in a snarl as he grips your jaw, fingers squeezing at the muscle as he forces your mouth open, spitting down between your lips. Your eyes widen as arousal flutters violently in your lower abdomen, unable to help the way your hips buck as you swallow. Sadism glints in his hazel eyes, his own arousal beginning to filter through into your lungs but to your surprise you don’t hate it.

“Like that?” He croons lowly, leaning over you while still gripping your jaw, eyes dark and dangerous yet there’s an unmistakable heat that he’s not quite able to entirely suppress. Rage pierces through your mind and your palm smacks across his cheek, nails catching on his brow and temple as you snarl lowly. “Try that again,” you hiss in warning, “I’m not against walking out right now if you pull something like that again.”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he replies icily, syllables dragging from his throat.

“Prick,” you snarl.

“Brat,” he bites back.

You make to smack him again but his shadows snare your wrists faster than you can blink, slamming them painfully back onto the table, the impact ringing through your bones but you refuse to show your wince. You open your mouth to hiss something at him—what, you haven’t yet decided—but the intention dissolves on your tongue as you feel him cup you through your underwear. Heat unravels in your lower stomach, liquefying into a torrent as arousal breaks all at once across your skin and you find yourself breathless. Cruel, dark hazel eyes pierce into yours, watching intently as he rests the heal of him palm over the apex of your thighs, his middle finger running tauntingly over your entrance, applying a light pressure to the dip between your legs.

Male satisfaction is written across his features but you find you can’t think of anything to knock it away: your hands are pinned, your legs slung over his hips, and you’re in no state to control the small amount of magic you possess. Azriel’s mouth remains in a loathsome cut, but you can still make out that heat in his gaze, the slight ember that’s the cause of this whole mess—you wonder how clearly it’s showing in your own eyes.

“Nothing to say?” He asks lowly over your mouth, silky hair brushing against your brow like a tender caress—the gentlest touch either of your will ever share between one another, and entirely unintended. “Don’t worry,” he rasps coldly, thumbing your underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel his cock slide through the wetness that’s coalesced between your thighs. “I’ll make sure to fuck the brat out of you.”

“At least my negative traits can be removed,” you manage to hiss out ruefully, wishing to be able to rake your nails across his skin somehow. “There’s no changing what you are.”

You don’t need to remind him of your earlier comment. He’s been hearing the words repeat through his mind since you spat them out: Illyrian scum.

Icy fury glitters in his gaze, fingertips biting bruises into your hips as he lines himself up and swiftly pushes in, the entrance made almost effortless by how wet you are; you’re somewhat relieved when he makes no comment about it.

Your spine arches helplessly, lips parting as he pushes in, filling you up in a way you hadn’t anticipated or even considered. Satisfying the ache that had been thrumming between your legs, giving you something long and thick to squeeze. Your only saving grace is that he seems to be as breathless as you are, brow lowered to the top of your sternum, lips grazing between your breasts as his hands remain firmly on your hips. From another angle you’d think it looked reverent, but then you’d also look in the heights of pleasure, and no matter how Azriel might be able to make you feel physically, there’s no removing the guttural hatred that burns between you.

“Move,” you whisper, panting softly. “Move.”

His wings twitch almost imperceptibly at his back, then he’s dragging himself upright, pulling away from you to stand to his full height as he looms above. You swallow thickly, having enough sense to squeeze your thighs around his hips, legs locking as you urge him to move; to give more. “Hold still,” he breathes, and your muscles instinctively relax, giving him room to shift.

“So you can follow orders,” he muses lowly, holding you tight as he draws back.

“Fuck o—” you begin to say, but he rolls his hips firmly to yours and your head tips back onto his desk, falling to the side as his cock rubs so delightfully against you, pleasure brimming at your edges from being so full, so spread out. He doesn’t give you time to recover. After another firm roll of his hips, as if testing you out, he finds his rhythm instinctively. Hard, punishing movements that allow him to pound into you, shoving the breath from your lungs as he repeatedly slams into you.

Your spine arches, writhing on his desk as you tug at the shadowy constraints, desperate noises being forced from your chest as his cock drives into you over and over again, thoughts practically falling out of your mind as it turns to mush beneath the utterly overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can concentrate only on the purest part of the sensations, zero in on the flutter of arousal between your legs, the rightness of being so full up, of having him pressed so tight between your thighs.

You allow yourself to fall deeply into the pleasure, allow yourself to be washed away entirely, submerged in the heated waters as you keep just enough of a hold on him to prevent your legs from falling off the desk. A moan slips from between your lips as your control begins to disintegrate, content to bask in the pleasure and forget who’s providing it. Azriel doesn’t make it that easy, though.

“Things would be so much better if you just learned to shut up and take it sooner,” he mutters down at you, shadows crawling leisurely over your body, pushing the fabric of your top up over your chest so their master can watch as your figure moves with each of his thrusts. Pleasure blossoms as his darkness teases the sensitive peaks of your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples, and you try to dig your nails into your palm, teeth pushing into your lower lip to keep the noises from becoming louder.

“You’re so well-behaved now,” he muses lowly, and even if his expression wouldn’t show his pleasure, you can hear it the rich timbre of his voice, the satisfaction he’s feeling at getting you to shut up. “So docile,” he taunts, and your eyes snap open to shoot him a furious glare for trying to disrupt your pleasure. For succeeding. But no sooner than you open your eyes, his thumb presses over your clit and any resistance is utterly obliterated.

Azriel hadn’t anticipated how it would feel however, how your body would respond to the intimate kind of stimulation he was subjecting you to, and is unable to bite down on the rough groan that drags viscerally from his chest as you tighten around him, as if trying to pull him deeper so he’ll never leave.

The both of you are near your breaking point though neither wants to admit it. But the signs are there. Your panting breaths, the gleam on his skin, the heat to your cheeks, the tension in his body—it’s all there for the other to read. He rubs against a spot and despite subduing your reaction he somehow knows where to aim, targeting it repeatedly as his thumb soothes over your clit, the pad sliding effortlessly over top from the slick that’s coating the both of you. It’s so much that your discipline slips for a moment. “Azriel…”

It’s softer than a breath, quieter than a whisper, but he hears it. Of course he hears it. And he finds that he likes the way you moan his name. Especially while getting to take his tension out on you so roughly. It’s probably more satisfying than any method he could have thought up on his own.

His grip tightens on your hips, angling them slightly upright as he leans over you. “Say that again,” he commands quietly, but firmly. An intensity in his demand that has your throat rolling. You don’t want to, but you can feel his concentration piercing down on you, the intensity of his focus weighing so heavily that you feel like your skin is prickling.

“Piss off,” you manage to get out, but you can feel how swiftly release is gathering, how close you are to that wonderful high that will knock you clean from your feet.

For a moment he continues with his punishing movements, but it seems like he’s committed now. You hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to have his entire attention upon you, but when he roughly rips you from his desk, jerking you up against his chest as he turns the two of you around so your back is shoved up against his wall, you feel the consequences dawn on you.

From this position you’re forced so much closer, the physical intimacy catching you off guard as your breasts press flush to his chest, staring into cold hazel eyes that can be no more than a few inches from your own, able to feel each puff of breath that’s expelled from his body as it brushes over your lips. He takes up all of your vision, wings flared slightly at his back as shadows crawl up your body, pinching at your nipples, pressing against your clit as his hips buck roughly to your own and you feel yourself unravel.

The orgasm pulses through your body once, before crashing down on you in its entirety, and your mouth parts in silent ecstasy.

His hand slides through your hair, your own having found their place on his shoulders, and he angles your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours, and your world is thawed enough that you yield.

“Az…riel…”

A heavy sigh warms your mouth, then his teeth grit, head dropping to your shoulder as you feel him find his release. Your hips buck, hands grappling to reach over his shoulders, pulling him into you as the waves of pleasure continue to pulse through your body, muscles turning custard-like beneath the overpowering sensations. Reaching weakly over his back, you have enough energy to lightly skim the pads of your fingers over the ridges of his wings, and if it wasn’t for his proximity to you, you’re almost certain you would have missed the soft moan that involuntary parts from his lips. He tenses briefly, the only sign that he was caught off guard before his teeth settle over your shoulder, biting lightly at the side of your throat.

Breaths pant between you as you ride out the aftershocks, basking in the waning pleasure for a few moments longer before your hold relaxes on him, and he steps back, hands still keeping your hips pinned to the wall despite your feet now being on the ground.

You bite back a hiss as his cock leaves you feeling slightly cold and empty, but you’d rather take a near-lethal dose of faebane than tell him that. His gaze meets yours and for a second you’re unsure what you could possibly say to one another. But his expression remains cold, your own features shifting habitually towards neutrality.

“You have until tomorrow morning to redo the report,” he mutters, already having his clothes back in place as his shadows push your trousers to your stomach, and your hands wrap around the bundle of fabric.

“Want me to write a report on this, too?” You reply, relieved that the heat is beginning to cool, sensing you’re back in control of yourself.

His brow narrows, the hollow beneath darkening with loathing. “You’re more trouble that you’re worth,” he mutters, stepping back to give you space.

You meet his icy gaze, a sharp glint in your own as victory sparks darkly across your chest.

“Liar.”

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[pasukiyo]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. | cedric diggory.

cedric diggory x f!muggle-born!reader 2,927 words warnings; nothing but fluffy fluff

 her quill gripped tightly between her thumb and index finger, she gazed up at the sky through her bedroom window as it bruised into a dark purple, soon becoming so dark, it was a bluish-black. it had been a rather uneventful day— she’d mostly been in her room, only going downstairs a few times for food when she needed it. otherwise, she was sat at her desk, working on the homework her professors at hogwarts had given her for over the summer. she’d been working on one of the excessive amounts of essays professor snape, the school’s potions master, for a few hours at this point, her brain tired, her vision hazy with sleep. her eyelids drooped and her body ached and screamed, longing for her bed, but she knew even if she were to lay down, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep. 

 she loved her parents, and even loved their little house in the midst of london, and she never took life as a muggle for granted. after all, it was nice every once and awhile to take a step back from the wizarding world, and to see life through the non-magic folk’s eyes. but her heart ached, it yearned for her life back at hogwarts, for her professors, (although, professor snape probably didn’t fall under that list) for her friends, for cedric diggory. 

 she supposed her boyfriend was the main reason she found sleep so hard to come by now— it had been a whole week since he had last sent her an owl, and undeniably, she began to feel anxious, worried that perhaps something had happened. after all, his last letter had given her absolutely no indication that anything was wrong at all. he’d never gone this long without sending her an owl, so she couldn’t help but fear for the worst. her owl, persephone, had come back a few days ago from cedric’s, no letter attached to her claw, much to her dismay. 

 cedric certainly seemed to have gotten her letter, so why couldn’t he write her back?

 she glanced back down to her parchment, her half-finished essay gazing up at her, and she sighed, tossing her quill back into its ink bottle. she couldn’t possibly do her homework when her mind was this preoccupied— but what else could she do? 

 she leaned back in her desk chair, lolled her head back, and closed her eyes, her eyelids heavy with worry, stress, exhaustion, all of the above. she could hear the purring of her cat, winston, from close by, felt his soft fur rubbing against her legs as he slithered between them, headbutting her ankles as he begged for attention. she didn’t open her eyes, however, (much to winston’s dismay as he resorted to jumping onto the mattress of her bed, tilting up his chin before tucking it between his paws) at least, not until she heard it. 

 clunk. 

 at first, she thought that perhaps it was just a bug flying into her window, and didn’t think much of it, although the noise had startled her. she settled further back into her desk chair and once again closed her eyes, hoping for some peace and quiet to ease her mind—

 clunk. 

 she peeled a single eyelid open in question, her brow furrowed. this noise seemed louder than the other, and unless a rather large bug had flown into her window, the chances of it being just that seemed slim to none. she sat up in her chair and blinked, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the window, daring for the noise to sound again. 

 clunk. 

 she was wide awake now, and could see that what had hit her window was not a bug, nor a bird, or anything of the sort— it was a rock. who on earth would be throwing rocks at her window, let alone at this time of night? she rested her palms against the wooden surface of her desk and pushed herself to her feet, taking a peek outside her window and down at the ground below, just as another rock thudded against her window, right near her face, causing her to gasp and jump backwards. 

 her gaze sharpened and she rushed to her window this time, keem on catching whoever was responsible for interrupting her peace and quiet. she blinked at the silhouette down in her mother’s garden below, unsure if what she was seeing was actually truly there or not. had she drifted off to sleep after all? was she dreaming? she made sure by pinching her skin, and making sure to press into her flesh hard, enough to make her wince. 

 she blinked. the pain was there, so that had to mean..

 she shook her head and unlocked her window before pushing it up and open, leaning over the surface of her desk to peer down at the figure below. “cedric?” she half shouted, half whispered at the boy as he gazed up at her, his lips curved up into a brilliant smile as he waved. “what are you doing— how did you..?” she shook her head again, unsure what to think of this. 

 “why don’t you come on down here so i can tell you?” he chuckled, and she swore she could see the gleaming in his eyes, even from all the way up where she was. she leaned back into her room to gaze over at the clock on her bedside table, it was a quarter past ten at night. she cocked an eyebrow at this as she leaned back over her desk, over the sill of her window, “do you realize what time it is? my mum and dad will kill me if they catch me sneaking out!”

 cedric’s smile only widened, and he, too, cocked an eyebrow up at her. “since when did the time stop us?” he asked in a laugh, and she felt herself flush at memories of sneaking around after hours at hogwarts with cedric, even including the one time they’d been caught by none other than peeves himself, which evidently resulted in mr. filch catching up to them, resulting in their detention. even then, they continued to sneak around at night, not even peeves the poltergeist or raggedy old mr. filch and his second-in-command cat, mrs. norris could stop them. 

 she sucked her bottom lip and toyed with it between her teeth, and when cedric smiled again and beckoned for her to come down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. “let me go grab my coat,” she called down to him, causing him to pump his fist in triumph. she couldn’t suppress a small laugh at this as she leaned back into her bedroom, pulling her window down closed as she drew air back into her chest. her skin warmed at the idea of the boy down below her window— how he’d been able to come out here, alone for that matter, was beyond her. but she couldn’t deny how good it made her feel, to be able to see her boyfriend again. 

 winston watched as she marched over to her closet and grabbed the her coat she could get her hands on, quick to slip it on over her t-shirt, slipping her feet into her socks and sneakers. persephone, who had been sat on her perch, sleeping up until this point, fluttered her eyes open to investigate the source of the noise. she gave her owl an affectionate pat on the top of the head as she passed by, slowly peeling her bedroom door open and carefully shutting it closed behind her, so as to not disturb her parents, who were sleeping in their room only a few doors down the hallway.

  as silent as she could, she crept down the stairway and into the living room, treading carefully on the tips of her toes all the way to her front door, making sure to grab the house keys from the hook before she stepped outside, locking the door behind her. as soon as she had turned around and stuffed her keys into her coat pockets, arms slid around her middle from behind and with a squeal, she was lifted from the ground as cedric twirled her around, his face buried in the crook of her neck. “cedric!” she squeaked when he sat her back down, pushing his chest with her palm. 

 “what? are you not happy to see me?” he joked, his hands grasping onto her elbows as he drew her near, his hands reaching up to swipe loose strands of her hair away from her face, cupping her cheeks as finally, he took his first, good look at his girlfriend in weeks. it was easy to get lost in cedric’s eyes, a raging sea of blue circling around the pupils, and already, she found herself lost in the current. but she blinked, her palms resting on his chest, “of course i’m happy to see you but.. why didn’t you send an owl?” she asked, her voice sounding sulkier than she intended it to. “do you know how worried i was when persephone came back without a letter?”

 cedric pouted, “i couldn’t have possibly sent you a letter without spoiling this surprise,” he sulked, playing with the ends of her hair. “please don’t be mad at cedric, he was just trying to be a good boy,” he pleaded in a high-pitched tone, much resembling one of a house-elf. he jut his bottom lip out further in a pout, blinking rapidly, his eyes much like a puppy’s. 

 how could she not laugh?

 she pushed at his chest and smiled at the ground, rolling her eyes. “you’re an idiot, cedric diggory,” she giggled as he, too, erupted into a fit of laughter, drawing her into his chest with a hand to the back of her head. “yeah, yeah. i missed you,” he murmured into her ear as her own arms snaked around his waist, basking in his warmth the best she could. she didn’t want to let go of him, she wanted to stay right there, soaking up his warmth in his arms forever. “i missed you too, cedric,” she mumbled into his chest, pulling away just enough so that she could gaze up at him. he smiled back down at her, once again swiping strands of her hair back behind her ear with one hand, the other staying wrapped around her waist. 

 “you should send pictures more often,” he muttered, the way her skin seemed to grow warmer to the touch at his comment not going unnoticed. he rested his palm on her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath her eye. “i miss seeing your pretty face every day, you know.”

 again, she flushed— how was it that cedric had such a way with words? 

 “fine, i’ll keep it in mind,” she replied, her fingers ruffling through the golden brown locks atop his head. “what are you doing here anyway? is there a special occasion?” cedric faked offense, his jaw dropping as he brought a hand to his chest, brow furrowed. “as if i only come to see my girlfriend on special occasions!” he scoffed, grabbing her hand before dragging her along behind him as they set off on the sidewalk. “no, i’ve come to take you on a nighttime stroll! you know, like the ones we take at hogwarts, in case you’ve forgotten..” 

 it was her turn to furrow her eyebrows, “of course i haven’t forgotten,” she tittered, catching up with him to walk side by side, tucking herself further into his side, grasping his upper arm with her opposite hand. “you could’ve come during the day time you know. could’ve introduced you to my parents, and we would have been able to actually go and do things,” she trailed off, glancing around the streets of london, not a single light to be seen inside of any of the buildings. “everywhere’s closed, you know.”

 cedric only shrugged, “that’s alright with me. just wanted to see you.” she narrowed her eyes at him as they walked, “how did you even get out anyway? i thought your father had you constantly on surveillance?” she inquired and cedric chuckled, hands in his pockets. “i have my ways,” was the only answer he gave, and before she could question him further, he began rummaging through his pockets, holding out something wrapped in a napkin to her. “almost forgot, thought you’d like something from our world,” he tittered as she unraveled the napkin, practically melting at the sight of a pumpkin pasty. 

 “god, i haven’t had one since the train,” she hummed as she took a bite, butting her head against his shoulder while she chewed. “thank you,” she mumbled, muffled by her mouthful of pumpkin pasties. cedric chuckled and nestled in closer to her side, staring down the street ahead of them. 

 “you know, i haven’t really been in the muggle world much,” he mused as she finished up her treat, rolling up the napkin into a ball and stuffing it into the pocket of her coat to throw away later. she cocked an eyebrow up at him, “you haven’t been to london?” cedric shook his head in reply, “not alone anyways. dad’s always busy with ministry work, and he’d rather die before letting either me or mum out alone.” 

 she hummed as she, too, gazed out at the street ahead, lit up solely by the street lamps lining it. “well, it’s not much compared to our world, but it has its moments,” she mused, and his smile widened, his hand creeping its way into her pocket, his fingers lacing together with hers before pulling them out from her coat. she glanced down at their now conjoined hands at their sides, heat surging to her cheeks. she blinked away, and she could hear cedric softly laughing beside her, his hand squeezing hers as his other hand reached across both of their bodies to cradle the side of her head, resting his chin on top of it. 

 “you’re cute when you’re shy,” he murmured, and she swore she had never wanted to punch more than she did now. she suppressed the urge, alas, as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, the touch of his lips sending her stomach into a frenzy, as though she were being tickled from the inside by the flapping of butterfly wings. “you’re such a flirt,” she grumbled, nestling closer into him. he cocked an eyebrow again, “is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

 she rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand again, letting her head rest on his shoulder as they walked, her hand not in his wrapped comfortably around his elbow. for a moment, they walked in silence, simply ravishing each other’s presence.

 “you know, there is something i’d like to ask you though,” cedric’s voice broke the silence at last, and she glanced up at him, a furrow in her brow. “sounds serious,” she replied and he pursed his lips, pretending to be serious as he nodded. “you know i’m already your girlfriend, you don’t have to ask me again.”

 he laughed at this and shook his head, jutting his hip out to hit hers. “clever,” he tittered, suddenly turning and taking either of her hands, swinging them around playfully. “i just— you know, the quidditch world cup is coming up soon,” he began, and she tilted her head. “i didn’t know that actually..” she trailed off— it was another thing she disliked about returning to her muggle life during break, it was so easy to become out of touch with the wizarding world. “oh. well, now you do,” cedric shrugged, “and, as my father works in the ministry, he was able to score some tickets…”

 her eyes twinkled, and cedric blinked as he stared into them, his words trailing off, seemingly held under whatever trance she had put him in. he blinked again, his eyelids fluttering as his gaze cowered to the ground. “and well, he managed to get an extra ticket and, you know, i was wondering if maybe..” he trailed off again and glanced up at her. she smiled, waiting for him to continue. cedric cursed himself mentally— why must she be so pretty that he felt so shy around her all of a sudden? “..do you wanna come with us?”

 she couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore, and she flung her arms around his neck, drawing him in so that their lips could surge into one another. cedric was quick to regain his confidence as his arms slithered around her waist, pulling her in even closer to deepen their kiss. she giggled as she pulled away, hands on either side of his face. “by the way you asked, i thought you were trying to propose,” she chuckled and he, too, couldn’t help but laugh. “not yet,” he murmured, smirking at the way she flushed at the comment. 

 silence fell upon them for another couple of moments, no sound to disturb their peace, save for the beating of either of their hearts. eventually, she rolled onto the tips of her toes to press another sweet kiss to his lips, cupping his cheeks and poking the tip of his nose with her forefinger. “why don’t you stay the night?” she asked, and his irises sparkled. “you can sneak back through my window in the morning and i can introduce you to my parents, you know, the normal way.”

 cedric tilted his head, “the normal way?”

she rolled her eyes, “the muggle way.”

a/n; not sure if anyone still reads cedric fics but i’ve been daydreaming about this one for a long time now and finally decided to post it teehee

[exuvianen]

misc. stationery hcs [housewardens]

short stationery + penmanship hcs with the housewardens!

cw: n/a

notes: another old piece... just some silly hc's don't take them too seriously. i tried writing the same amount for everyone but it’s kinda clear who i’m biased towards… feel free to drop an ask or to add on! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

wc: ~1100 words?? wow. that's more than i expected.

riddle rosehearts ; housewarden of heartslabyul

has everything you need for school. pencils, pens, erasers, notebooks, binders, glue, tape, scissors,  you name it, riddle has it.

sorts each subject by color, and color codes all his notes/subjects. do NOT mess up his order! 

has extremely neat handwriting - it’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s easy to read.

riddle shares his notes with others when they ask him for help, so he makes sure it’s legible and easy on the eyes.

as for stationery in general, he probably doesn’t go too wild. standard neon highlighters, blue and black pens, plain covered notebooks, etc. it’s simple, but it’s good enough for riddle.

overall pretty good taste, a little basic, but everything is of good quality.

leona kingscholar ; housewarden of savanaclaw

literally does not care about stationery. he’s the idgaf king.

he’s that kid who never brings a pencil or pen to class. he barely remembers to bring his notebook too. and he only has one (1) notebook that he uses for everything (he probs doesn’t even take notes in class, he alr knows everything lol).

constantly borrows stuff from ruggie or sends him to buy stuff from sam’s shop. he’s lucky he has ruggie.

has a fancy pen from farena that he never uses, but keeps at the bottom of his drawer. 

does the bare minimum, probably “borrows” other people’s pens/pencils when he loses his. has borrowed at least 20 pens, but was too lazy to give it back. they sit on top of his desk. 

he literally doesn't care about aesthetics, he just gets random stationery to get the job done. has the most mismatched items.

azul ashengrotto ; housewarden of octavinelle

definitely invests in some quality paper and pens. also a stationery nerd who has everything in his office.

probably has those notebooks/folders with the corny motivational quotes like “the grind never stops” or “no pain no gain”. kinda cringe but he likes them b/c they motivate him.

he’s the type to take notes in class, then rewrite them later. he sells the rewritten notes to other students for a steep price.

jots down ideas or gossip he hears in the margins of his notebooks. he rarely doodles, but sometimes he might draw things from the coral sea if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

color codes all his notes, but uses more neutral colors as opposed to the standard bright/neons. he also has sea-themed folders or notebooks. 

he's fascinated by what land-dwellers use, as paper/ink typically doesn't last in the sea. he really tries a variety of products and enjoys it a lot! and takes notes for his future businesses

kalim al-asim ; housewarden of scarabia

the guy who has an excessive amount of stationery. probably buys 20 of the same pen because he likes it so much.

he gets those notebooks/folders that have cute animals or wild patterns on them. i feel like he’d also get a lot of stuff with floral designs.

doesn’t care much about the quality/brand of the things he’s buying - rather, he’s more interested in how cool or fun the item looks. 

def owns funky-colored pens, erasers that smell like food, and sticky notes shaped like animals. probs decorates everything with stickers (he loves scratch-n-sniff ones).

the margins of kalim’s notebooks are filled with doodles. some things he draws often are his favorite dishes and animals, and his family members. he probably uses his notebook to plan parties/parades instead of taking notes. jamil has a stroke

his handwriting is very expressive. it's loopy and wide when he's excited, small and sloppy when he's dozing off, and extremely messy when he's scribbling frantically.

vil schoenheit ; housewarden of pomefiore

owns sets of matching stationery. coordinates his pencil case with his notebooks and folders. probably a fan of minimalism and deep, rich colors. 

has high-quality pens and uses fancy highlighters to annotate his notes (i’m thinking those midliner highlighters and muji pens). he spares no expense for his tools.

color codes all his notes/different subjects, and has a specific color scheme for each subject. he is VERY particular about his color sorting. do NOT mess his categories up.

his handwriting is elegant and beautiful. he probably practiced and experimented with his handwriting a lot due to his fame (he signs autographs and he wants his penmanship to look pretty for his fans!)

he has pinterest worthy notes. he posts them on his magicam stories occasionally to show them off, and to encourage his fans to study hard too.

his fashionista side bleeds into his stationery choices, so he only buys items that are 1) of the best quality and 2) suited for his image. he does NOT cut corners.

idia shroud ; housewarden of ignihyde. 

does not use stationery LOL (or avoids it. technology is just more convenient for him).

everything is done on digitally, on his computer, tablet, or phone. he’d decorate his laptop or tablet with stickers though, like of his fave idol group “premo” and such. 

if he does own stationery, they are game or anime themed. also limited edition. he def collects merch, like pins and badges as well. i feel like he’d make itabags and stuff but he’d never go out in public with them. he’s too socially awkward just like me fr

he has those cool multifunctional pens, the ones with like 10 different colors, and can also double as a screwdriver or some kind of tool. 

he’d also have a lot of cute cat-themed items. they're just too cute, and he can't resist buying them! he's rich so it's fine...

he's probably designed super multifunctional pens before. he definitely has the brains and resources to do so.

malleus draconia ; housewarden of diasomnia

archaic stationery. still dips his pen in ink and writes with a feather /hj

he’s fine with the basics though. he just rolls with pen, paper, and ink. it’s good enough for him. 

has beautiful, fancy cursive handwriting, but it’s hard for people to read, especially for his schoolmates b/c the younger generation doesn’t really learn cursive anymore. think like... the penmanship of historical treaties or declarations. it's charming and still legible, but you just need a bit of time to be able to read it. 

probably owns and uses enchanted quills passed down from his family. it reminds him of home and he treasures them greatly. when he’s homesick he’ll twirl them between his fingers. 

he used to break a lot of pencils/pens with his sheer magical fae grip. he’s learned how to control his strength a lot better now, but he still prefers his enchanted writing tools. 

he's not used to modern technology, so he gets a kick out of trying novel stationary items as well. this pencil is also a pen, a highlighter, and a flashlight? wowie!

[iiwaijime]

introductions

masterlist

tooru oikawa

without them, i am nothing. so i pick up the pieces they've left behind and try to put them back together just to feel like myself again.

tooru oikawa is... weird. in a time and place where staying in solitude is the worst possible thing you can do to yourself, he does just that. no companions, no allies. all he has is an ever-growing collection of things that don't belong to him, and the faces that come back to haunt him every night. and somehow, despite all that, he's probably the most outwardly amiable person you'll meet on this side of the earth.

exhibit a: dog tags. he and his best friend bought matching ones from a fair. they got their names engraved and everything. the ones that he wears around his neck now aren't even his.

exhibit b: photographs. he has a fairly large collection of them, and he treasures every single one. a life that he can't go back to plays out within.

exhibit c: comic books. a childish part of him is still seventeen, poring over old superhero comics in his best friend's bedroom. he probably knows every single line by heart now.

y/n l/n

if the music is loud enough, and i close my eyes, just for one second, everything is okay again.

y/n l/n's life is gray — an endless cycle of sleep if you can, eat if you can, repeat. like tooru, she's alone. unlike him, she has no set base. music is her escape; yet she doesn't get to listen as often as she likes. but when she does, she goes places. sometimes she's doing maths in her friend's basement. sometimes she's fighting with her parents — she misses that, too. and sometimes, tooru oikawa, six years old, shoves a volleyball into her hands and makes her play.

exhibit a: digital camera. it's out of power, and does not function with what minimal energy is still available. but she takes it along with her anyways, in the hopes that it'll be able to turn on again one day, and unlock all the memories inside.

exhibit b: notebook, pressed flowers. she writes in the notebook every now and then, but she'd rather not waste the ink and lead she has. instead, she picks out the prettiest flowers she sees, and tucks them in between the pages. one day, she wants to show them to someone she loves.

exhibit c: walkman music player. the one she has is quite old, and thankfully works with her scavenged energy sources. she'd probably be lost without it. it's her most prized possession, an emergency exit from reality when she needs it the most.

author's note

🎵 y/n, tooru and hajime were pretty close until middle school, when she moved away. they lost contact afterwards.

🎵 the earth is super desolate rn: no laws, no electricity, no actual civilization — but there are small groups of people here and there, and parts of old machinery are sometimes just okay enough to be modified to produce a little bit of something.

🎵 "one day, she will show them to someone she loves" isn't about a specific person. she just hopes that after all this, after losing everyone and everything, she will be able to achieve some semblance of a normal life where she does not have to be alone.

🎵 tooru has really bad nightmares almost every night. he's scared of forgetting, so he tries to keep as much physical evidence of everything that ever happened in his life as possible.

🎵 there are some things like zombies in this universe; known as the infected? they go around and act feral and bite people and shit. the first few were infected by a freak explosion and then it spread like wildfire. the two main dangers are the infected, and then "pirate" groups who go around attacking people.

🎵 tooru and hajime pooled together all the money that they had to get y/n that notebook. she uses it way too sparingly, because she feels like if she finishes it, she'll lose the last connection she has with them.

🎵 tooru usually has a stable amount of supplies because he can store the excess, but y/n is always running out.

🎵 i made a friend beta read the tooru pov of the first chapter and she said it's good :3 she wanted the next bit and it was so embarrassing to tell her it's fanfic. she don't judge tho <3

🎵 inspired the stand by stephen king icl. it made such an impression on me omfg

taglist — 7/50, add yourself please — form

@akaakeis @mikauraurr @dawnisatotalqueen @smellysluna @akaashislovee @lulumi1u @anqelkoz

[s0lifuge]

“I’m frightened, Harry,” Draco stated matter-of-factly as he leaned forward in his burgundy velvet stool towards the mirror in front of him, the heat from the bulbs surrounding it making him sweat under the white powder he was applying. “We can’t keep doing this for long,” Draco continued as he battered his own face with the marabou powder puff that had once belonged to his mother.  “No,” Harry admitted from the vanity next to his, where he was carefully drawing on his facial hair in a million little fine lines of paint. Draco watched for a moment out of the corner of his eye as he began blushing his cheeks with a waxy paste of rouge. “But why stop just because he’s been appointed?” Harry pondered as he gave himself a suitably impressive ink-black moustache. With it, in his black tailcoat with padded shoulders, Draco found Harry absolutely ravishing. But it wasn’t quite enough to distract him.   “So you want them to make us stop, then?” Draco asked as other performers buzzed through the greenroom around them. He was not sold on the idea. “Because they will,” he warned as he pressed his rouge-covered finger into the already-pink skin of his lips. He rouged only the very inner rim of them, to give them a more dainty, feminine appearance. 

Draco picked up a piece of paper and placed it between his lips, blotting off the excess colour. As he did, he turned in his swivelling stool to face Harry. Harry was, too, applying the barest amount of rouge to his cheeks, though it was more of a natural, clay-ish hue that suited his olive skin well. As Harry rubbed it into his skin, Draco thought it only served to masculinise him further.  “If they come in, we’ll run,” Harry promised as he turned to gelling his curls into place against his forehead. His glance tore towards Draco’s unsure eyes for a moment. “We won’t be heroes this time, alright?” He seemed confident, which brought Draco an unsteady feeling of belief. “Right, Draco?”

| 1930s berlin queer cabaret performers au |

| T4T drarry || rated M |

| see warnings on AO3 |

[crimsonedquill]

How they act in front of their crush (Hogwarts Legacy)

Poppy Sweeting 🦡

It’s not out of character for her to freeze up in the presence of other people, but this is different. Sweaty palms, glowing cheeks, stumbling over her words; it’s like she’s coming down with a bout of the flu.

Beasts trivia is the only topic she can discuss without immediately getting tongue-tied, so she mostly sticks to that for conversation fodder. Will spend a suspicious amount of time talking about mating rituals.

“Did you know that Fwoopers seduce each other with particular mating calls?” *imitates bird noises*

She tries dropping a lot of hints in the form of beast metaphors, but gets increasingly depressed when they fail to notice them. How do they not understand what she meant by Hippogriff love dances?

Natsai Onai 🦁

She doesn’t really get flustered, but she will start acting excessively nice and helpful (one oddity is that the ground suddenly seems to be littered with lost things)

“I believe you dropped this” *smiles whilst pulling out a random quill they have never seen before*

Of course her mother catches on. She will make sure they sit apart during her classes and she’ll call them to attention the minute she sees them even looking at each other, but that doesn’t stop her daughter from trying.

She loves sketching them on random pieces of parchment during other classes. Capturing their features in ink is almost therapeutic to her, allowing her to carry them with her even when they’re not physically present.

Imelda Reyes 🐍

Crushes? Pft. She doesn’t have time for them. It’s absolutely not like she loves the challenge or anything.

She’ll make them sweat buckets just like anyone else during Quidditch training, but in a way that suggests some obvious sexual tension.

“You need a tighter grip on that bat, like this” *aggressively squeezes their club wishing it was her throat*

She likes it when they don’t give in right away. Flirty looks, suggestive comments; she’ll just push them far enough until they finally break and she can devour them whole.

Ominis Gaunt 🐍

He’s usually very skilled at navigating via wand, which makes it all the more odd that he’s constantly brushing up too close against them.

“Pardon, how foolish of me” *bumps into them despite practically having the entire room to himself*

You might call him a bit of an old-fashioned romantic, so he ends up spending a lot of time writing poetry to express his feelings. Finding the right words to describe the way their voice makes him feel is the best way to enhance his ‘experience’ of them.

Sometimes, he just likes to hang back and listen to their conversations with others; he loves the sound of their laughter. (The added benefit being that he might pick up on any hints of mutual interest.)

Sebastian Sallow 🐍

Will definitely try to impress them with reckless stunts or some ominous-sounding incantation he found in an obscure book in the Restricted Section.

“Hey, watch this” *accidentally summons a demon from hell*

He won’t waste any opportunity to show off in their presence, especially during duels. Leander Prewett should be happy he isn’t a stain on the wall of the Defence Against the Dark classroom by the time he’s done.

His urge to act all macho mostly stems from a place of insecurity. Even though he doesn’t admit to it openly, he’s constantly fretting if he’s good enough for them.

Amit Thakkar 🦅

Of course, our good Ravenclaw boy wouldn’t engage in any unbecoming behaviour that would jeopardise his studies.

That said, making an extra effort to help out a fellow classmate doesn’t really count, does it?

“Allow me to help you with that” *blushes heavily when their hands touch as he’s adjusting their telescope*

Is definitely the type to do extensive research on their likes and preferences. Keeps a notebook on the things they do after school and their favourite classes to have a topic of conversation in case he has a chance to talk to them.

[hoth-and-cold]

After several enquiries and my constant reminder of rent, I am offering commissions! It's been a while since my previous sheet, but with updated quality of art I needed to update my price list.

Some important information to add:

I will have Five (5) slots open before I will go to a wait list, I do have work as well so I don't want an infinite number of people waiting for longer then they should.

For Backgrounds on Inked and Coloured pieces, the above prices are an average quote (for example if you want the entirety of the Coruscant Sacking recreated on an A4 it will be on the higher end) and I am open to discuss prices on the amount of detail desired.

What I will not draw (Excessive gore and Mecha) are listed but if you are not sure if I will draw something, I'll be more then happy to talk about it.

Other then that, I am open and ready to receive, eager to create characters and bring your cursed ideas to paper!

Edit: I had forgotten to include the pricing for any extra subjects, they have now been included with the initial pricing plus a font change

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

The best moments in the revolution (in your opinion)?

Desmoulins and Robespierre basically breaking up because the former used Rousseau against the latter in public after just having been mocked for his journal by him:

Robespierre: …I end by asking that [Desmoulins’] numbers be treated like the aristocrats who buy them, with the contempt that profanity deserves. I propose to the Society to burn them in the middle of the room (There is applause several times; Robespierre's speech was interrupted by applause and bursts of laughter).

Desmoulins: That's very well said, Robespierre, but I'll answer you like Rousseau: "To burn is not to answer."

Robespierre: How dare you still want to justify works that delight the aristocracy? Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you. 

Pétion spending an excessive amount of ink insisting he did not get hard from sleeping in the same room as two stranger women while on the run from the authorities after the Insurrection of May 31 in his memoirs. Like, thanks for specifying Jérôme, but I never really thought that was a climate where such feelings grow in the first place…

There were two beds without curtains, two very dark little closets serving as wardrobes, a window overlooking the street, a small fireplace, and two or three chairs. So here I am, alone in a room with two young persons of interesting countenance, undressing myself, going to bed before them; then they get undressed and go to bed before me. I felt, I confess, these embarrassments of decency, which they no doubt felt even more than I did. But it was easy to see how much the generous action which they knew removed from their souls those ideas which might have troubled them. They did not even make any of those reflections which bring out the delicacy of the circumstance. I need not say that I did not allow myself any of these remarks, any of these jokes which could frighten the most severe modesty. I even confess that I experienced none of these sensations, none of these desires so natural that they are involuntary in the man whom nature has made truly man. I would have shamed myself if I had been tempted to abuse this touching hospitality. I was a brother with sisters.

Charlotte Robespierre arranging a meeting between Maurice Gaillard and Couthon so the former can plead for clemency for some people, eavesdropping to their entire conversation, throwing herself upon Couthon and holding him still once he (supposedly) makes a move to call for his body guards to arrest Gaillard, gets Gaillard to escape, makes Couthon ashamed over having attempted to ”immolate a friend that I had brought to his house,” goes and finds Gaillard and remains completely cool when he loudly asks her what the f she thought she was doing, answering that he would have been executed had she not intervened, that Couthon was only trying to deceive him and finally that he ought to flee Paris, something which Gaillard also agrees to do. Then years after the fact Gaillard recounts and records this anecdote for his BFF Fouché, only in this version, Charlotte’s identity is for some reason kept a secret and she’s only described as ”a lady.” Coincidence much…?

Camille getting smacked in the face with his latest number of Révolutions de France et de Brabant by a bookstore clerk, responding by saying he has a gun and could blow his offenders brain’s out, but simply opting for hitting him once with his cane.

Saint-Just playing with a rifle, accidentally firing a shot that almost kills his fellow representative on mission and then throwing himself in the guy’s arms in shock.

Robespierre being hypocrite 101 by expelling a member from the jacobins with the motivation: ”Brichet talks to you about this faction, but he does not name the individuals, he does not designate the traitors who must be punished. When revenge is demanded against representatives who are not named, the whole Convention believes itself threatened and exposed to great misfortunes. So the real traitors are those who put forward such motions.” Should have really taken your own advice there four months later, Max…

Louise de Kéralio-Robert exclaiming she will stab Danton if her husband doesn’t survive the Insurrection of August 10, alarming Lucile Desmoulins to the extent she keeps an eye on her for the entire rest of the night, a reaction that becomes much more understandable once you realize Louise had actually threatened three men harassing her with a knife just a week earlier…  

The fact that a pamphlet with the name ”Conspiracy formed from 5 préréal [sic] by nine representatives of the people against Maximilien Robespierre, to stab him in the middle of the senate”exists.

Camille and Marat spending several pages of their public newspapers arguing because Camille got a word misprinted (”apostate” instead of ”apostolate”)

Not really the revolution, but all the times Napoleon is recorded to have lamented the fact he did not have Fouché executed.

The fact both Fouché and Robespierre seemingly each courted a girl and then contributed to getting two of her family members executed.

Françoise Hébert telling her accusers that she ”has never known her husband to be a conspirator, if he was he would have died by her hand,” during her trial.

Collot d’Herbois trying to defenestrate Robespierre, failing, and immediately trying to hug him as an apology.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 30: By Candlelight

Geode pushes themself a little too hard; thankfully their partner Swiss knows exactly where to find them.

Thanks so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers <3

So, to preface this, I decided to pull out the oc I wrote for day 30 last year, because this is my birthday present to myself, and we do a little oc x canon here, as a treat. Fair warning, this one got long.

The archives are the quietest parts of the Abbey, nestled deep in the library. It's often a peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of regular Abbey life, but not today. The yearly inventory is due soon, and it feels like there are countless registers to update, reports to fill out. Geode's bent over their desk, filling out what feels like the thousandth piece of paperwork. They love their job in the library, just not right now.

The light in here is dim; one high, narrow window letting in a little bit of late afternoon sun, and one candle that's on the far corner of the desk, pushed away far enough from the excessive amount of paperwork that they feel safe lighting it without risking it all going up in flames. The room smells like old paper, the candle tinging it slightly sweeter, apples and spices, and the warm air makes their eyes heavy. Their back aches, poor posture taking its toll on their short frame. They take a moment to shut their eyes, resting their elbows on their desk, head in their hands.

There's a knock on the doorframe, and Geode jolts upright, eyes wide. It's incredibly rare for them to get a visitor down here, and if they do, it's usually Imperator.

"Sister, I can expl-" They stammer, trailing off as they see who's at their door. Their entire frame relaxes as Swiss steps into their little "office." "Hi."

He smiles, easy and warm, and Geode slumps back in their chair as he comes up to their desk. "Hey, babydoll."

"I don't think I've ever seen you down here," Geode says, reaching under their glasses to rub their eyes. "I mean, I don't blame you, it's a labyrinth at best. What can I do for you?"

The smile doesn't leave Swiss's face, but he sighs heavily through his nose. Geode sits up straighter as he props himself up on their desk. "Feels like I haven't seen you in days, sweetheart," he says, hands curled around the edge of Geode's desk as he leans back, mussing up their already disorganized piles of paper. "Have you eaten today?"

The earth ghoul sighs, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "I've got to get these reports for Imperator finished or she'll have my other horn," they say, not quite answering. They glance up at him and take a deep breath, squaring their shoulders as they face the mess of paper and ink on their desk.

"I know," he hums softly, reaching out to run a finger over the jagged edge of their broken horn, tucking back a strand of grey-white hair that had slipped out from their braid, pinned up tight at the nape of their neck. "At least let me make you something nice for dinner, Geo," he says, and their eyes meet his, grey on gold. "I don't want you running on fumes."

"You're too nice to me," They laugh halfheartedly, leaning into his hand for just a moment before straightening. "It's a date," they say, smiling up at him. "Let me get a couple more things inventoried and I'll be there."

"I could never be too nice to you." He smiles, his teeth glinting in the low light. "Do you wanna meet me in the band ghoul commons, or do you want me to meet you here? I'm not picky."

"I'll meet you there, no need to make the trek down here again," they joke, fiddling with the pen in their hands. "I'm serious, it's a fucking maze."

He laughs, almost melodic like the bells in the main chapel, and they smile for real at the sound. "Alright then. Meet me in the band commons in, hmm, an hour?"

"You've got a deal," They say, his smile contagious. "Thank you."

Swiss's gaze softens and he cups their cheek. "Of course, babydoll."

Geode leans into his touch for a moment, lets themself shut their eyes for just a second before straightening. "I'll see you in an hour."

"I'll see you in an hour." He smiles, one last kiss to their temple before he steps out of their little office, and Geode turns back to their paperwork with a sigh.

They don't know how much time passes. The letters are all starting to blur, and no amount of focusing their eyes through their glasses is helping. The room is warm and their head hurts and their back aches and they have time, and they rest their head on their arms. They can shut their eyes for just a moment...

The next thing Geode knows is a gentle weight at the small of their back, something hard and sharp at their temple. "Babydoll?"

Geode jolts upright, gasping in a breath as they snap to awareness. The candle's burnt down to a puddle of wax in its holder, and the sky out the tiny window is dark. Swiss stands next to them, his big hand rubbing their back gently, eyes almost glowing molten gold in the dim light. "Hey, sweetheart," he hums, hand not slowing its motions. "Have a good nap?"

They frantically fix their glasses from where the frame had been digging into their forehead, a violet blush starting to spread across their grey cheeks. "It's been more than an hour, hasn't it," they breathe, unable to make eye contact with him.

"A little longer than that, yeah," he says with the same low tone. "Got a little worried when you didn't show, but this was the first place I checked."

"'M'sorry," they whisper, shutting their eyes and focusing on his hand on their back, melting into the gentle touch.

"Don't be sorry, Geo," he says, leaning in to nose at their hair. "I know how much you've been working. Besides, you looked real cute when you were asleep."

They take a deep, shuddering breath through their nose, soaking in the cinnamon warmth of his scent. "Quit teasin' me," Geode mumbles, even as they lean over to tuck their face into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, this is nothing, babydoll," He croons softly in their ear. "I had one other surprise planned for after you ate, but if you just want to go to bed, that's no sweat off of my back."

Geode chirps curiously, pulling back from his neck to look at him. "What were you planning?"

He laughs, leaning back and offering them his hand. "Would it be a surprise if I told you?"

"Fair," they snort, letting him help them to their feet. He leads them out of the archives, their hand locked in his, a comfortable silence coming over the two of them. Geode takes a deep breath, leaning close enough to rest their head on his shoulder, tail swaying until the spade taps against his. "Out of curiosity," they hum. "What'd you make for dinner? Or is that a surprise too?"

Swiss lets go of their hand, wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pulling them even closer against his side. "Made those sandwiches you really like, the ones with prosciutto and balsamic? And the strawberry spinach salad. Mount brought them in fresh when he was taking care of the greenhouse this morning."

"Lucifer, I fucking love you," Geode blurts out, their stomach growling and cheeks darkening. Swiss laughs, melodic and echoing like bells in the empty hallway.

"Love you too, gemstone."

He takes them past the door to the Abbey ghoul dens, leading them farther down the halls until he reaches another set of doors. "Sorry, babydoll, need my hand for a second," he laughs softly, taking his arm off from around their shoulders to fish a key out of his back pocket.

Geode sways on their feet as he unlocks the door, leading them into the band pack's den. It's oddly quiet, and Geode can't help themself but look around for the other members of Swiss's pack. No one's in the common room, which, every time Geode's been in here, there's been at least one of the band ghouls lounging about. They don't have much time to think about it before Swiss is leading them to the kitchen, two places set at the table. He pulls out one of the chairs for them, a big hand at the small of their back as they sit down.

"Thank you for doing this for me," they whisper, staring at their plate of food. Swiss looks them in the eye, a dead serious expression on his face.

"Don't thank me, Geo," he says. "You do so much for me and the Abbey, this is literally the least I could do."

They smile a little, and his serious demeanor crumbles, revealing the grin they know and love.

Once the two of them finish dinner, Geode moves to clear the table. Swiss tries to stop them and do it himself, but they level him with a lighthearted glare. "You cooked, let me at least put the dishes in the sink," they say. "I'm tired, not dead."

He raises an eyebrow curiously. "Are you too tired for the surprise? It's fine if you are, it can wait."

Geode turns, looking at him over their shoulder as they rinse the leftover vinaigrette from the salad bowls. "Depends. Is it a surprise like, 'let's have a chase out in the woods' like we did last autumn?"

Swiss laughs, standing and sidling up behind them, a hand gentle on their upper arm as he ducks down to rub his cheek against their unbroken horn. "No, Geo, it's not a hunt, as much fun as that was."

Their cheeks darken at the memory, leaning back against his chest, feeling his voice rumbling through his body. "Something quieter then?"

"Much quieter," he affirms. "It's in my room. You ready?"

They finish up, stacking the dishes neatly in the bottom of the sink. "Yeah."

He takes their hand in his again as they step out of the kitchen, fingers interlaced. Geode's been to Swiss's room before, spends more time there than they do in their own shared quarters, they know how to get there, but they let Swiss lead them. The exhaustion's starting to sink in, feet heavy against the tile floor.

They come to Swiss's door, and he murmurs an apology as he lets go of their hand again to find his keys. The door gets unlocked, and he holds it open, gesturing dramatically for them to enter. Geode laughs, nudging his shoulder as they step into his room.

Geode looks for the surprise Swiss said he had in here, but everything is the same as it was the last time they were in his room. A string of purple lights over his double bed, his records sorted alphabetically by artist and then chronologically, his guitar mounted over his desk. Nothing's changed, nothing's here.

They turn to Swiss, mouth open to ask, when he puts his big hand on their shoulder, guiding them to look to his adjoining bathroom. The door's open, lights already on. Geode steps into the bathroom, Swiss right behind them. He slinks around them, reaching to the candles on the vanity, running his fingertips over the wicks in a facsimile of a caress, using his fire to light them.

"You didn't," Geode breathes. "Swiss." They stare at the full bathtub, steam curling off the water that smells sweet and floral.

"I did," he shrugs, reaching for the dimmer on the lightswitch. The room darkens some, the low light much easier on both of their eyes. "You need to take some time and relax, I know how ragged you're running yourself, gemstone. Will you let me help you?"

They take a shaky breath in, feeling their eyes getting misty as the glance between him and his bathtub. "Swiss," they breathe again. He looks up, concern written in the furrow of his brow.

"Baby, you can say no," he says, stepping softly in front of them and resting his hands on their tense shoulders. "I'm not going to be mad if you do. Just want to take care of you."

"That's kind of the thing," Geode says, not looking at him, watching the candles flicker over his shoulder. "Nobody's ever- Not since I was a little kit."

His hands slowly sweep up the back of their neck, deft fingers finding the pins that keep their braid pinned tight to their head. "I'd be more than happy to. All you've gotta do is say the word."

Their shoulders slump, pressing their forehead to his collarbone. "Please?" they whisper, taking a deep breath as he ducks down, kissing the crown of their head.

"Of course," he murmurs. "Turn around for me?"

They turn, fingers clumsily unbuttoning their uniform shirt. He pulls the pins from their hair, gently unweaving the braid they had put their hair up into that morning. They keen softly, the tension pulling at their scalp finally easing.

"Yeah, that better?" he hums, watching their ear flick against the side of their head as he cards his fingers through their hair, untangling the grey-white waves.

"Much," they sigh, shrugging their shirt off of their shoulders and tossing it into his laundry basket. They regrettably extricate themself from Swiss's arms to wrangle their binder over their head, exhaling in relief before setting their glasses on the bathroom counter. Geode undresses methodically and steps into the bath. The water's perfectly hot, and they sink into it with a groan, eyes fluttering shut.

Swiss suddenly gets a little bashful, tail flicking behind him. "You, uh, I can go, give you a little privacy, if you want."

"No!" Geode sits up frantically, water sloshing against the sides of the tub, their eyes wide. Both ghouls freeze, staring at each other before bursting into tired giggles. "I mean," they say, clearing their throat after a while. "Please don't go. I've been alone in that office all week."

He doesn't say anything, just nods. The tub's too small for the both of them to fit, but Swiss sits at the far end, watching with a stupidly fond smile on his face, one knee drawn up to his chest, resting his arm on the lip of the tub. Geode blinks over at him, their tail lazily wrapping around his wrist.

The two of them sit in a content silence, the candles on the vanity counter flickering, casting long shadows along the bathroom. The water is warm, and sweet smelling, and he's rubbing his thumb against the spade of their tail, tension draining from their body.

Geode blinks slowly, their eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Their chin hits the surface of the water as they nod off, and both ghouls startle awake at the loud splash. Swiss's eyes go wide, and he scrambles to his knees.

"Alright, no drowning in my bathtub, that is very much not relaxing," he says, laughing a little nervously.

"Shit, sorry," Geode says, pushing strands of wet hair from their face. They bite their lip, cheeks dimpling as they laugh with him. "You got me too relaxed, fell asleep again."

"Don't apologize," he hums, eyes crinkled. "You want your hair washed?"

Geode shakes their head. "I washed it this morning," they explain, "Besides, if you washed my hair I'd just drift off again and get dunked."

He laughs, reaching into the tub and pulling the stopper. "Wouldn't let that happen, gem," he says as the water drains, helping them to their feet.

"Hooray, chivalry isn't dead!" Geode teases, letting him dry their hair with a soft towel, wrapping it around their shoulders as they step out of the tub.

"The things I do for you, gemstone," Swiss grumbles, but the crinkling by his eyes tells a completely different story. He leads them back to their bedroom, and they slyly steal a hair tie from the top of his dresser as he shrugs off his own shirt, changing into sweats and grabbing a change of clothes for them.

Geode takes the clothes, a pair of clean boxers they had left in his room and an oversized shirt, chirping softly in thanks as they get dressed. He eagerly takes the towel from them, tossing it back into the bathroom hamper and blowing out the candles.

He steps back, a warm smile growing on his face as he looks over at his bed; Geode's curled up over the comforter, the crystal growth in their broken horn catching and scattering the light from the string lights above them. "Quit lookin' at me like that. Better place to sleep than the bath or my desk," they mumble, blinking slowly up at him as he pulls the comforter and top sheet out from under them.

"Lookin' at you like what?" Swiss hums, laying down next to them. Like they're magnets, Geode drifts closer until they're resting their head on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily underneath their ear.

"Like, fuck, I dunno," they mumble softly, eyes flickering shut. "Like you love me or something."

Swiss laughs softly, rumbling through his chest, and he ducks down to kiss their forehead. "Yeah, like I love you."

[m1ssnovember]

Melancholic poet academia

Drinking excessive amounts of black coffee to numb the hunger for anything but hearts solitary. Staining your hands with ink, overwhelmed either all the thoughts you have to turn into poems, afternoons in second hand book stores, multiple medias for writing, resides in the fictional world, reciting tragedies for pets or antiquities in your room. Pomegranates will be the closest you’ll ever come to a heart.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Y'know, we've been experimenting with Noodler's a bit more, and honestly we think that the talk about the smell as a sticking point has been overstated somewhat. We might be biased by our own background, but we think a lot of the reason that it's so overstated is because it's being encountered by people who have never been on a farm before and are unused to the scent.

We like to have opinions on things. This post is on your dashboard for two reasons - one, we've been using this Charlie pen for something like two-three weeks now, and thus have gained enough experience to be comfortable making statements about it, and two, like every review we've seen online and also the one person we talked to about using Noodler's immediately hit us with "oh but the SMELL" and we honestly didn't find it that bad.

We have, for reference, a Noodler's Charlie pen (came free with Baystate Blue), and a few bottles at this point. Noodler's is a brand that, at least for us, stands out due to affordability (guy making them apparently has previously stated that he takes pride in how little money he makes off his ink, and we checked and they're legitimately the cheapest ink even when compared to clearance inks) and the ridiculous amount of properties they bake into inks (waaterproof, forgeryproof, flourescent, "bulletproof", freeze-resistant - there are a good chunk of these that bind to the cellulite in paper, and Baystate Blue specifically is known for staining pens and such). Its pens are made with a vegetal resin that is cheap, biodegradable, and known for its smell. We also had one guy bring up the inks having an odor.

While the pens are where the "smell" note came up most often, we find that it's honestly... less bad than billed? It's noticeable when you put it up to your nose, but leaving it out in sunlight for a few days, as most manufacturers recommend, definitely does make a difference. The immediate smell is best described as putrescent - it reminds us a bit of manure, which is definitely something some people will have less tolerance for. With exposure to sunlight, it mulls into something more akin to a rich fertilizer, which we personally find somewhat pleasant, though YMMV on that.

This pen smells more when it has been used often - body temperature and sweat will get it smelling stronger, and it may stick to your fingers for a few minutes. Putting it down before writing again will get it back to its neutral state - and with the specific pen, doing this every now and then is a good idea anyways, since the Charlie Pen when eyedroppered can have excess flow if the hand's body heat causes the air inside of the pen to expand. This is probably a dealbreaker to some - we don't blame them, if so! This is an acquired taste, for sure, and we feel that a lot of our personal view on this particular manufacturer works the same way as

The chemical smell on inks is something that we'd definitely agree with with some, but not all - we have a sample vial of Noodler's Black Eel, and it has enough surface tension that it acts more like a simulation of a liquid than an actual liquid. It smells sharply artificial, like silicone condensed into a liquid. It is intense and distinctly unnatural and honestly it's a really fun substance to play with partially because of this. Other inks, like Southwest Sunset (3 oz bottle, obtained a few months ago by now), are significantly less... pronounced? There's a chemical smell, but it certainly isn't noticeable unless you stick your nose right up in there. Honestly, we think that unless you're getting a lubricant ink, it's nothing to worry about.

If we paid fifty dollars for this pen, then we might consider these complaints to be... hmm, more significant? The Noodler's Charlie Pen we have was free, and writes better than a $50 pen - and we do mean legitimately free, we checked the price of the ink and it adds nothing to the price to add the pen. Things like Noodler's Flex pens are ten bucks below the next most expensive thing and much prettier. Your mileage may vary, of course - we have a relatively sensitive nose, but we also grew up in the middle of fuckass nowhere and had more than enough time to get used to the smells of livestock and animals, whereas we could easily imagine that someone who didn't grow up on a farm would be shocked and disgusted by the smell. But it's a free pen, we like "biodegradable and sturdy", it functions better than our more expensive ones, and... honestly, we kind of think the resin is worth the price of admission.

This post does not necessarily have a purpose - it is, mostly, us sharing our opinions on something, and you should take it how you will. Most sellers recommend that you leave the pen out in sunlight to sap the smell, and we noticed that it was more or less gone when our of use after about a week and a half of that. Our $0 Charlie pen has a significantly better flow than our $25 Pilot Metropolitan, and a less scratchy nib. We feel like if it works it works - you may want a less strong-smelling pen, or a pen that doesn't need to be left out in sunlight for a week. Though we, of course, can be more than caught up in form, we tend to vastly prefer function over looking fancy, so this has become one of our most well-used pens over the past little bit.

So we aren't just obliterating your dashboard - here's a picture of the moddle, and of our foster kittens serving as our backdrop for our Charlie pen. Do what you will with this information. Also, to our loyal followers, thank you for continuing to attend our blog posts as we slowly descend further into the madness of fountain pens. We refuse to buy anything that costs over $100 without a job and at least a few years sunk into the hobby, but Fountain Pen Day has given us a handful of sales good enough to get spendier pens that would otherwise be out of our price range, so you will probably be hearing about those soon enough.

[booksandwitchery]

A Witch's Stationery

Even I was not prepared for the amount of notebooks, inks, pens and other such supplies that I would end up using for my practice. It's kind of ridiculous; I've got a Book of Shadows, a tarot journal, a mindful reading notebook, a notebook I've just started for personal correspondences and spells, and I've already filled up two grimoires. I'd say that given my greenness to the Craft, working on a third grimoire is excessive, except that I actively refer to all of my grimoires on a weekly and sometimes daily basis. The notes I've been taking have actual lasting use to the extent that I've actually surprised myself.

Really though, as a witch I can't imagine getting by using only one or two notebooks because it would be impossible to stay organized. I'm even planning on starting a notebook specifically for my notes on science as they pertain to magic (think physics, biology, anatomy, etc.)

More often than not, my fingers are stained with ink from refilling my fountain pens and although I try my best to clean the ink off, I'm a bit proud going about my life displaying the badges that embody this type of literary aesthetic. I find myself inwardly thinking about the term "Ink Witch" more and more lately. Is ink witchery a thing?

[shelandsorcery]

High Intensity Comic Work

So my first round of art school was a fine art degree. And I didn't really know a lot about art careers and I wasn't really sure what I WANTED to be doing, but I did kind of chafe against the "comics aren't art" vibe some teachers had. And then Shannon Gerard came and talked. And Shannon's gone on to do a lot, a LOT of really cool stuff (http://shannongerard.org) but her talk was about, or at least mentioned, how she was doing comics as part of a cross-disciplinary masters, by making them with lithographic prints. Which is, I think, a real flex. Like, it's one thing to draw a comic, and another thing to draw it backwards, soak it in chemicals, and then, one page at a time, pull the right amount of successful prints from the stone, before you could draw the next page. It still boggles my mind. Just fuckin incredible. And her process did two things - it elevated the medium to something the more traditional fine art faculty would engage with, and it also used the then popular genre of autobio/confessional comics, which probably also helped get fine art profs to connect with the project. So my memory of her talk is prettttty faded, but what it did was give me permission to be a real shit about bringing comics back into my fine art work. Clearly I just needed to use more punishing mediums! So I did. Did I have anything to say WITH those comics? No. Would that stop me? Also no. So, in my final year of art school, baby artist shel decided to paint and etch comics of the most banal shit you can think of.

I did a BUNCH of these, and if you think these painted ones are... slow and meditative....

Wait'll you see the blood, sweat and tears I poured into intaglio prints of empty spaces:

These were etched and aquatinted into copper plates, printed by wiping ink into every crevasse in the metal and then wiping all the excess ink off the face, then squeezing them through a huge heavy press, one print at a time.

That said I do still like these haunted window views inspired by taking the subway up past Yorkdale station every day for school. But oh my god the LABOUR it took to make these. Was that the secret to making them fine art? I do not know, I just know I gave it a real good try. I even screenprinted a deconstructed journal comic, god help me:

Anyways, the last piece I made this way was also the first fine art painting I ever sold, and it was titled "waiting" and it was a journal comic about doing my first Canzine alone when my teammate ditched. Painted in layers and layers of acrylic, across six canvases.

Did I use these as livejournal icons for years after? Yes. Anyways now when I feel like I'm being a bit of a try-hard, I at least know where I learned it. Oh my gosh okay I did make ONE more of these, the year after I graduated. It's very angsty.

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[dinomite2]

Female Agent 8 x male reader relationship headcanons

Yay ! Another Agent 8 x reader fic !

also what month do think side order going to release it said that it was going to be released sometime in spring so think March to April is a good time

Featuring: female Agents 4 & 3

● when 8 got out of the surface after a few months after she got out the deep sea metro defeated Commader Tarter she settled in for a new home at inkopolis Square to meet new people and to have fun in turf wars and ranked battles and so far things have been normal for her

● That was until 8 met you for the first time in the middle of inkopolis Square she was about to get a the new Quadruple fried Cosmic Shwaffle Meal from the crust bucket, but she didn't have a ticket for it since it was very rare ticket to get

● But luckily you were nice and lucky enough to get the ticket and share with her and you two ate together ,started to know about each other and what you do and quick became friends

● Your usual activities together would either be mainly just hanging out together and uncommonly at times you'd either see one or both of 8's friends Aka Agent 3 and Agent 4 and both of them are mysterious wonders to see

● we start with who seems to be the most rowdy of the two Agent 4 when she First Met you She was a friendly fellow but at times she'd be strangely and jokingly flirty with you and it mostly happen at random times but Don't worry 3 will take care of her if things go weird

"And that how it takes 6.79 seconds to refill a ink tank with no ink recovery up while it takes exactly 4.19 to fill up with ink recovery up everyone got that? " 3 said questioning 4, 8 and You

"Yep!" 8 said happily

"Yeah" you said giving a smile and a thumbs up

"Y/n would fill up my ink tank in 3 seconds~"

"4!" 8 groaned and covered her face looking down while blushing you did the same too keeping a straight face while blushing wildly while 4 just sat laid back with a smug smile on her face

3 threw her shoe Mach speed at 4 after she said that

● And secondly we have Agent 3 who's not a bad gal herself but she takes care of both 4 and 8 while also keeping a close eye on you, and making sure that your not taking advantage over any of them

●and by that a friend group was made ! And everything had gone swell for awhile hanging out and having lots of fun and doing lots of turf wars Until 8 started to show more "feelings" for you

● she blushed whenever you looked at her she stuttered 8 when was talking to you, when she looked at you from afar she looked at you with a wavy smile on her face and would sometimes do REALLY stupid stuff to try and to impress you

"um 8 are you sure about this this doesn't look safe" you said looking at 8 holding a VERY spicy pepper

"I'm a trained agent Y/n I can handle anything" 8 said with high amounts of confidence as she ate the pepper

.

"See nothing happened im fine" 8 said As her entire body was sweating and slowly starting to turn entirely red

"is sweating excessively and your body becoming red count as normal?" You questioned

"Nope I'm still fine" she said with a strained smile and was now melti- WAIT MELTING!?

"OH COD 8 now you're melting now do you want me to get 3!?"

"don't worryyyy" she said melting into a puddle of herself eyes and mouth separated like 3 cereal pieces in a bowlful of milk

"I'm getting 3 " You said walking backwards looking at the liquidfied agent 8

● and while this frantic loveshowing was in tow 3 and 4 both took notice of this and eventually found out that 8 has a crush on you!

● And 8 couldn't really hold her secret to 3 and 4 as it was eventually found True so they planned to teach 8 how to show her feelings toward you By a beautiful picnic date!

(I took this pic during the start of a big run/splatfest)

It was a crisp night on top of a hill up standing there was a tree plastered with warm colored lights and under there was picnic carpet, basket and a boombox and 8 sitting as she was waiting for you to come thanks the invitation that 3 gave you hiddenly.

"Um guys are you sure this will work?" 8 said questioning 3 and 4 on her hidden mic

"Don't worrrrrry 8 me and 3 will guide you through " 4 said reassuring 8

"And ill make sure she doesn't say anything STUPID "

"Ok ok geez I won't, look! He's coming greet him!"

"Hey 8! What's up you invited me here?"

"Uh-h hello cmon over !" 8 said blushing as you both sat down on the picnic Blanket she then pulled out a disk and placed it into the boombox

(Ost/video not mine) (also new fav music ever man)

"ohh pop 'n' schlock that's my favorite! How did you know ?" You said questioning 8

"I-ii heard from 4, uhm want a drink?" 8 said quickly pulling out a bottle of fruit punch

"Yeah I will !" You said picking up a cup

8 poured the punch into your cup and then you drank it

"Ok you're doing good Now complment him, say that you have pretty eyes " instructed 8

"Ok, um Y/n"

"Yeah?"

"I have pretty eyes "

"Uh yeah they're nice -they're" You said feeling a bit awkward about what 8 just said looking away

"No not yours his !" 3 said into the mic

" Oh! I meant you have pretty eyes not mine ok mine work" 8 Said embarrassingly

"So 8 why did you invite me you wanted to say something?"You said As pop 'n' schlock was playing

"Ok now tell him how you feel"

"Ok uh-m Y/n I like you"

"Yeah and I like you too"

"No I meant a bit more than that I love you Y/n i had a crush on you since we met"

"Oh uh well um uh i" you blushed while looking away until 8 kissed you on the cheek causing you to blush even more

"Well I'm great you showed your feelings to me 8"

And done SORRY MAN for the massive wait it was supposed to be done in the early December but I caught up on school, Christmas and my own laziness a three distraction combo lol

Also requests haven't been coming in for the past few weeks so if can request.... plz i need something else to do for Christmas break

Anyway enjoy!