#my penmanship sucks

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

This week’s post has a very loose interpretation of the theme of “Huddle for Warmth”, in actuality this is more of a “It is cold, there is snow, so this counts!” type of collection of stories - both multi-chapters and one-shots. Since it is the last week of January and it is below freezing where I am, this seemed fitting.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Icebreaker - @linlamont

Minako, being Minako, decides to “help” and sends Usagi and Mamoru to a secluded cabin in the mountains by themselves to try and figure out what they mean to each other, now that they have recovered their memories of the past life. As they work together to cook and keep warm, they try to find a new precarious balance, while dealing with their anxieties and insecurities. 

Chills - Secrets10

Serena can’t seem to warm up after getting hit with a Youma attack. This is compounded by her leaving her keys at home while her family is out. Darien finds her bawling outside the arcade and offers to take her to his place to help warm up.

Quality Time in the Cold - Prince_Endymion (Star_Bun)

In this cute one-shot, Usagi and Mamoru enjoy a walk in the first snow of the season in companionable silence.

Snow Bunny - @shnuggletea

In this non-senshi AU short story, a trip out to a ski resort orchestrated by Minako and Motoki forces Mamoru to confront his feelings for Usagi, with Seyia and Beryl acting as foils.

A Magical Boy in Maine - @caelenath

Disclaimer - this story is not complete (but a new chapter went up last week!) and I am making an exception in including it in the series for two reasons: the "huddle together for warmth" part is already published and the way @caelenath writes psychometry is probably one of my favorite interpretations across the fandom.

Mamoru gets invited to spend American Thanksgiving with his friend's family up in Maine. This leads to a weekend of food, cultural immersion, and letting people see glimpses of his alter-ego by being way too good at snowball fights. Except he keeps getting flashes of something, and he can't figure out if they are premonitions or visions of his past life. 

---

This is the last post for January, and when it came time to decide on themes for February, trying to sort it out by committee did not work as well as I had hoped. There are too many cute possible posts that could be done for the "month of love". After narrowing down the 2 weeks I wanted to do for sure, @caelenath suggested I put the rest of the possibilities that were discussed into a top hat and draw them at random (which I thought was super fitting for a Sailor Moon related fic rec list!). The only snag? I did not own a top hat. Cue googling, searching Amazon to see if I can get it delivered in time, going to multiple party / costume stores and making employees check the warehouse and tops of racks because the system said they have 23! (with my husband rolling his eyes at me the entire time but fully supporting my endeavor). Without further ado, here is what we are doing in February:

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffeeshop AU

[yankasmiles]

happy yamatsuki day!

[sassyandclassy94]

The youngest child can say whatever he wants and be as rude and disrespectful as he wants but my dad NEVER deals with him. Instead, he says I’m the mean one. Even though I was only trying to explain why good handwriting is important in life.

[dogmomwrites]

my computer updated and now i have no access to mine own writing. once i sort this out, i'll get back to catching up on the tag games and maybe actually do that wip intro i still haven't started on...

[whosname]

Leave the rest to the Sugar King

[queenlucythevaliant]

I was homeschooled growing up, and my mom was the same as yours and insisted that my brother and I turn in our work in cursive. I still use it every day, and I write so much faster! I will say, though, when I write thank-you notes I've gotten comments about how small my handwriting is. 😬 But I digress -- I'm happy to meet someone else who grew up writing in cursive! It really is a dying art.

Yes! Same hat!

Also, another point for my list of uncanny ways in which I am an honorary homeschooler. (I was not homeschooled, but former homeschool kids are constantly mistaking me for one of their own.)

Now, on the flipside, I has a chemistry TA once who couldn't read cursive and insisted that I print on all my assignments. Worst time I ever had in a lab section.

[lewmagoo]

learned i have arthritis in my hands so that’s fun :) no wonder it’s been hurting to write

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

It’s worth noting also that cursive isn’t actually slower than print handwriting - or, at least, the way it used to be taught wasn’t. Palmer method or similar styles that were taught in a specific way and used muscular movement (moving from the arm, not the wrist or fingers) are not only faster than print but much less tiring on your hand. It’s optimised for speed and consistency, and when you handwrite everything that way every day for years and years, you get very, very fast.

That’s why the switch to dnealian was frankly a death knell for cursive: it wasn’t optimised for speed in the same way, and it wasn’t taught in an intuitive way (and it was ugly lol).

If you were taught zaner-bloser or some other similar form of cursive, and liked the look but found it too slow/tiring/etc, I highly recommend learning Palmer method :)

And yes, it does add a little bit of happiness to life and beauty to the mundane.

bee movie script be upon ye

On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.

On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.

And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.

Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?

Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting

[embraceyourdestiny]

Fuck every person in my life and many peoples lives who were ableist to them as children because of their handwriting

[cherubfae]

𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰~! || {𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔩}

You think you're being sooo sneaky leaving all these sweet love letters for your favorite guy. You're not. They 100% know but if they'll do anything about it is another question entirely.

tags: gn!reader! but implied male/masc reader for Angel ofc :3 mostly fluff!! mildly suggestive in Luci's & Vox's, slight angst for Angel, mention of alcohol consumption in Husk's! Alastor being his usual self lmao

Alastor

You must think you are quite the clever little thing, leaving such sweet notes around for anyone to find. Little letters you think he doesn't know come from you. His shadows haunt every crevice aware of all that goes on within the hotel's interior, and especially those that dwell within his radio tower. It is amusing watching you slither into his abode to leave yet another sweetly decorated note on his control panel while Alastor lurks within the darker corners of his tower. Scarlet eyes soaking you in like a lion hunting a gazelle.

Then, like smoke, you slip out the hatch and down the ladder towards the hotel as quickly as death. Trying to seem casual, whistling an off-key tune.

Curious, he grins. What a curious creature you are, hmm? He picks the letter up, his red claw caressing the crease of the seal. His name stares up at him, written in exquisite cursive and emboldened red ink he wished was blood.

With a single claw he slits open the top of the envelope with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, withdrawing its contents that had piqued his interest. Immediately, his smirk widens. Positively Cheshire-like.

"My, my, darling. You are endearing, I hope you know that!" Alastor cooed with crackling static. He traced his finger along the penmanship.

He pictures you hunched over your desk fretting over such a delicate piece of stationery. Your words oozed admiration for the Radio Demon. How truly touching! The sentiment was most definitely mutual. Next time, he'll be sure to catch you in the act, little lamb.

Lucifer

The King of Hell was quick to move in upon Charlie's insistence. Eager to make up for lost time with his daughter, he takes on all sorts of tasks and attends every event she has planned. Every team-building exercise, there was Lucifer at the forefront; lest his rubber duck depression returned.

Initially, he's quite confused by the sight of a white and gold foiled envelope placed neatly on the center of his pillow when he returns to his quarters to rest. He's never seen his name written with such care. The scent of love and genuine fondness exudes from the small parcel and tempts his senses. It catches him off guard, a puff of hot air escaping his lips, blinking owlishly.

He's lightheaded as he reads the letter with one hand braced against the wall beside him. An apple-red blush coats his cheeks and creeps down his neck. The scent of you clouds his mind and corrupts his thoughts. He's starting to feel dizzy yet oh-so-happy!

You... You wrote this didn't you, sweetling? Red eyes wash over the page. He closes his eyes and presses the letter to his lips as he leans his back into the wall. It's surely from you, but why didn't you just come and talk to him instead of being all mysterious and cryptic? Has he not made his affections for you clear enough? Perhaps you were shy and felt more confident in staying anonymous.

Lucifer couldn't promise you or himself that he wouldn't go and find you immediately after he calmed down enough to be well-composed in a public space. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Shaking out his hands and jumping in place, Lucifer straightens his tie. If all goes to plan, he'll have you snuggled in his warm embrace as he flies over Pentagram City before sundown.

Of course, he will make sure all six of his massive wings are preened and looking their best first. Hey, he is the King of Hell after all! He's gonna show off for you a little.

"Alright, darlin', I hope you're ready for a night on the town." Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath and exited his room swiftly making his way to you.

Sir Pentious

Sweet man is so flabbergasted! Surely this is a prank, yes? No? Oh my, then that must mean--! His pupils dilate and water, a big cheesy grin sneaks across his cheeks. His tail swishes behind him lightly and it's hard to fight the blush off his cheeks. It takes everything in him to collect his breath as he clutches the letter to his chest.

"What'cha got there, boss?" Points out one of his Egg Bois. Sir Pentious all but squeaks and shoves the paper unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

Pentious rasps, "No-nothing that needs to concern you!"

"Oh, okay!" Chirps his Egg Boi, waddling off.

Sir Pentious sighs, slitted eyes wander over to where you sit at the bar engaged in deep conversation with Angel and Husk. There's a weird tug in his chest he's never felt before. A longing. You catch his eye and give a gentle smile and offer him a tiny wave which he returns eagerly. He sighs dreamily, coiling in on his tails. I hope I may catch you at a more opportune time, my heart.

Angel Dust

Whenever he's had a particularly rough night at Valentino's, Angel retrieves a pastel blue shoe box from deep within his closest, almost completely filled to the brim with letters, gifts, and keepsakes you'd given him. Even the silly little half-assed doodle you made of him as a spider. He saved it all.

You're so cute, thinking that you're all anonymous when you are absolutely not, leaving him the cutest fuckin' letters that make him want to explode. It's nice. Having someone want you and not for sex. The pure heart of gold of yours was gonna be the double-death of him.

Angel hasn't quite worked up the nerve to ask you out yet. It's something he ponders every day, especially when reading your newest letter. He feels too stuck, too... Fucked up. That's not something he'd wanna put on you. You've never treated him like anything but a person. You saw the real him.

Instead, he lives for your letters. Wishing things could be different, that he could find the power to cut the contract with Valentino, and truly become yours when he's no longer that fucker's pet.

His eyes well with tears as he cradles your latest letter, praising him for how well he'd done at Charlie's little team-building experiment. He pretends it's you that he's holding. His fingers combing through your hair, smiling to himself when you lazily lean up his body to kiss him ever-so-softly. A true kiss made of real love, not lust. You snuggle into his chest fluff with your arms around his waist.

"Baby, I," with a blink, Angel is back to reality. The weight on his chest had only been a snoozing Fat Nuggets. Angel sighs, stroking his little buddy's ears. "Maybe one day, I can be strong enough for both of us, baby." He says out loud, hoping your heart will find his words.

Husk

He's quick to snatch the new letter up before anyone else sees, sending his half-drunk whiskey all across the countertop with a clang. Husk cussed under his breath, stashing your thankfully dry letter beneath the bar for safe-keeping until he could read it later.

"Why'dja gotta leave it out in the open?" Husk grumbles without malice. The playful sway of his raised feathery tail and soft hum as he wipes up his spilled drink was always a good sign of his rare, pleasant mood.

You're growing more and more bold with each letter. Leaving them places where someone other than Husk could accidentally misinterpret them: Charlie.

The last thing he needed was the well-meaning Princess of Hell to overextend herself and start playing matchmaker. Husker was doing just aces on his own. His love life was his and his alone to fuss about. He finished cleaning up the bar for the night, keeping the booze secure in its display case until the following day.

Husk peruses the letter freely in the privacy of his bedroom, one arm folded beneath his head. His golden eyes flicked from word to word. His pupils expand as he exhales an airy chuckle, lingering on the word handsome. The sound of his own trill rumbling in his throat startles him enough to drop the letter and slam his elbow into his nightstand.

Hissing, Husk pressed his palms against his shut eyelids. "Fuck, baby, ya really got this ol' cat comin' undone, huh? Sneaky little minx." He lied back down with a huff. "If only ya knew." His eyes slip shut. Tomorrow. Husk would finally approach you tomorrow.

Vox

"I see you still don't wanna text these, huh, baby?" Vox scoops up the letter taking residence on his seat, hastily clawing it open. He plops down on his chair, leaning back. "Too shy to be so vulnerable for me?" Vox's sharp-toothed grin spreads wide across his display screen, red dripping from the corner of his mouth as he hungrily drinks in your words.

"You are too fuckin' cute, aren't'cha, darlin'?" Vox chuckles, smashing his fist against his console with triumph. A bolt of electricity spirals around the system, causing him to yelp as it spans across the entire city. He created another blackout. "FUCK."

Vox is at your doorstep in a matter of minutes despite the darkness of Pentagram City. The forever-flushed red sky is light enough to find your apartment building. He's dressed in a new suit and feigned ignorance when you opened your door, holding a new letter. Surprised to see him there. Hah, caught with your hand in the fuckin' cookie jar, babe.

Allowing him into your home, Vox easily towers over you with a big grin. You looked fuckin' adorable, staring up at him so meekly.

"You didn't need to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart." He gently tilts your chin upwards. A single cyan claw grazes the line of your jaw, sliding to cup your cheek with his full palm.

"Vox, I," you stammer. Your sentence goes no further than those two small words. Vox traces your lower lip with the tip of his sharp thumb, smiling as your eyes flutter shut. He waits to see if you continue to speak and when you don't, he nods and tugs you to him by your hips. You gasp against him and he smiles, a bit softer now.

"I know, baby. I've gotcha," Vox's mouth presses tight to yours, lifting you up further into his arms for better access. Electricity soon ignites the house and city, Velvette must've gotten things running again.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!heartslabyul!reader, established relationship, biting, blood, marking ( all consensual ), lilia is a tease, groping ( clothes on ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-one [ lilia vanrouge + marking ] // two of three very special kinktober fics for very special people in my life 💚 @stellarmagu 🥺 thank you for being the bestie !!!

because Lilia has a marking kink he loves to sink his sharpened fangs into your neck, or drag them in jagged lines over your clavicle. he could write his name with the tip of his tooth, daubing it ever-so-gently in your crimson ink. and it feels good— much too good.

“I have to get back to the dorm…” you breathe out, but make no attempt to move away from him. tucked away in a darkened nook, you can hear your dormmates talking amongst themselves as they head to the hall of mirrors. Trey and Cater’s voices ring out to you, and your face is on fire with a heated blush. if only they knew what position you found yourself in, right on the other side of the wall. “I’m going to be late…”

“You most certainly will. Your Housewarden likes to dole out punishments for everything, I assume tardiness is no exception.” Lilia murmurs, his velvety words muffled against the heat of your flesh. “Hm, speaking of… I wonder what punishment Rosehearts would conjure up if he were to see you like this. Needy and squirmy, being touched all over, kehehe…”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help it that Lilia’s breathy, little chuckle close to your ear always sends a shiver down your spine.

“You enjoy the idea of me being punished just a little too much.”

you mewl, because Lilia bites a fresh section on your collarbone— one deliberately higher than the last, and you suck in a breath. “I won’t be able to cover that one up…” it was almost a whine, but you smile afterwards, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Lilia chuckles again, kissing the two, stinging pin-pricks. he couldn’t deny it, even if he wanted to ( which he didn’t ). “I don’t know why you cover them in the first place,” Lilia teases, his smirk tinted with rubies. “Especially not because you get so wet when I leave them on your sugary-sweet skin. Why not wear them like trophies? Your awards for being such a deliciously good girl.”

svelte, dastardly fingers slip beneath your uniform skirt and Lilia presses two firm pads against your damp panties as if to prove his point, rubbing the lingerie against your core until you let out a breathless whimper.

“So you’ll make me show them off? Bite where I can’t possibly cover them, and let all of Nightraven see how you own me, Lilia Vanrouge?”

Lilia grins deviously, pulling back to press his lips to yours. your eyelids flit at the metallic taste of your blood on his lips, and coating his tongue as he flicks at your couplet, his voice warm and rumbling, breath tickling your countenance. “I would never make you, my dear. That would make me a villain. But, encouraging… I suppose I am encouraging you to wear your marks out where everyone can see whose mouth has been all over you. After all, what is the fun in signing your name if no one gets to marvel at the penmanship?”

[mayajadewrites]

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh? (jjk men)

the men of jujutsu kaisen write the word 'mine' on your upper thigh for you to get tattooed.

featured: gojo, geto, nanami, toji and sukuna

warnings: toji and sukuna drabbles are 18+

satoru gojo:

would have the sloppiest handwriting

giggle as he drawing on your leg

adds a heart

would doodle other things on your leg in hopes you also get those tattooed

"Baby you're gonna look so good tatted up!" Satoru stood up, admiring his penmanship on your leg.

"Satoru, I already have a handful of ink. Do you not notice?" You roll your eyes.

"I'm always focused on something else, hot stuff." He kissed your thigh before moving your your lips.

suguru geto:

has the most beautiful handwriting

would write 'mine' in cursive

caresses your legs as he writes, his aura the calmest you've ever felt

suguru would definitely get you to write 'mine' for a matching tattoo on his body

"Is this okay, angel?" Suguru pressed his lips to your hand as he lifts himself up from his knees.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"Ok, my turn now." He sat down next to you before pulling you on his lap. Suguru handed the pen to you, moving his hair away from his neck. "Write mine right here." His index finger tapped the skin on his neck.

"You sure you want it there?" You say unsure.

"I'm all yours, my love. You could write it on every inch of me if you wanted to."

kento nanami:

is unsure if he should actually be enabling you getting more tattoos

however, he is intrigued since it will be something in his handwriting

asks 100 times if his handwriting is okay, and redoes it every single time

kisses you after each letter of the word

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"Kento Nanami, yes this is more than okay." You framed his face with your hands, pulling him up to your lips. "I'm yours forever."

"You are the love of my life." He presses his soft, plush lips to yours, his broad shoulders hovering over you. His hand trails to your cheek as you lean into his touch.

"Mine forever." You whisper against his lips, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

"Yours. Always."

toji fushiguro

writes 'toji's' instead of 'mine', however you don't notice until he's done

handwriting is sloppy, but it's his

plants kisses along your inner thigh as he draws on you

pushes his hand up your skirt as he writes, teasing your core as the pen glides across your skin

"Toji Fushiguro!" You push his hand away and look at the word. 'Toji's?!"

"What? Is that not the same as 'mine'?" He raises his eyebrow.

Man has a point.

"You're impossible." You pull yourself onto his lap on the floor, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Mm, I can feel how wet you are on my thigh." Toji began kissing your neck as your skirt pools around your waist.

"Tojiiiiii we have to go to my tattoo appointment!"

"They can wait." His lips attach to yours swiftly.

And you were late for your appointment.

ryomen sukuna

he is obsessed with the idea of the tattoo

actually has decent handwriting

draws a self portrait of himself on your leg also 'to assert dominance'

refuses to acknowledge your existence until he's done with his work on your leg

"You really drew your face on my leg?" You look down at the penmanship of your boyfriend, Sukuna.

"If you love me you'll tattoo my face on you."

"You're ridiculous." You suck your teeth, looking at your leg in the mirror. "It does look good though."

"I'm more than just a good fuck, baby." Sukuna growled behind you as he pressed himself against your back, making sure you feel his erection that's begging to be let out of the confinement of the zipper of his pants.

"We just got done fucking for hours. How do you still have energy?" You lean back against his shoulder as he kisses the side of your face.

"Touching you turns me on. Can't help it."

[raphael-angele]

Okay, I get Marauders being Snape's bullies but can we all agree that Snape and Lupin had a Frenemies relationship?

In Potions class:

**They are forced to be partners**

Snape: Alright, I'm about to add the moonstone

Remus: *writing* Alright

Snape: *sees the notebook* What's that? *points to word*

Remus: That's moonstone.

Snape: The hell it is!

Remus: It is!!

Snape: Lupin, I've seen chicken scratches on dirt that are artistic masterpieces compared to your penmanship

Remus: I'M DYSLEXIC! MY HANDWRITING IS BOUND TO BE SHIT

Snape: I'M DICTATING WHAT YOU WRITE! HOW WOULD THAT AFFECT IT?!

Remus: GO FUCK YOURSELF, SNIVELLUS!

---

Remus, running up to Snape: Help. Me.

Snape: ...what?

Remus: Sirius, James, and Peter are trying to get me to -

Sirius: Moony!

Remus: Oh, Godric! Heyy!

James: C'mon, mate. We're gonna have to get going if we wanna sacrifice the chickens on time.

Peter: We have 7 minutes and if we use brooms, we can make it with 2 minutes to spare...if we wanna risk our bones, that is.

Remus: Aw, guys, sorry. Snivellus just told me that we have to finish a report by tonight.

Sirius: what?

Remus: Yeah. We wanna get this over with. Right, Snivellus?

Snape: ...yeahhh

James: Can't you do it by yourself?

Snape: The professor said to take turns writing the report on the notebook. I wrote it last time.

Remus: Yeah, it sucks. Well! I'll see you guys later!

Peter: Oh, well, okay. Good luck on the report.

Marauders: *leave*

Remus: *sighs* Thank you.

Snape: ...you actually do have to write the report.

Remus: I know. Let's go to your common room.

Snape: ...what were you gonna sacrifice the chickens for?

Remus: Trust me, you don't wanna know.

---

Snape: Lupin.

Remus: Snivellus, I thought we agreed not to interact unless for academic purposes.

Snape: This is a one time emergency

Remus: ??

Snape: I need you to punch me in the throat.

Remus: ???...Why??

Snape: Because, McGonagall said I should go commentate the Quidditch game tomorrow and I'd rather not do that.

Remus: ...sounds reasonable. Aight.

---

Remus: Hey.

Snape: What happened to conversations only for acamdemic purposes?

Remus: This is kinda one.

Snape: ??

Remus: Regulus is looking for a tutor.

Snape: I know. I heard him asking around.

Remus: Okay, so, hear me out: I tutor him in DADA, Lily tutors him in Charms, you tutor him in Potions

Snape: ...And why would I do that???

Remus: Because it would drive Sirius and James absolutely insane.

Snape: Really? C'mon, Lupin, you actually think that's gonna work?

Remus: Think about it! The people they have massive crushes on hanging out with the guy they hate the most and their little brother?

Snape: ...let's do it.

[whosname]

Terribly badly draw Gintoki, but it has the right spirit. Having naturally wavy hair is not a walk in the park.

Also, found this in the what a year post and, yeah

[alpydk]

Communication

It's that time of year again when I am unexpectedly hit with a smutty idea. Seriously, I've been pretty antismut recently and was almost accepting it wouldn't come back. So... here we go. (Also I wanted an excuse to use this gif even if it doesn't match anything in the plot.)

Tav and Gale are happily married... sort of. Tav takes matters into her own hands.

Word Count - 3571 - C/W - Smut, Gale needs a suck hug

A year they had been married, one of blissful exploration of the senses, days lying on picnic blankets with wine and poetry, nights with gentle prayers on flushed lips. Gale had learnt her body as if it were the Weave itself, the way the curves dipped and rose like the valleys beyond the coastal mountains, the way she would whine when his tongue flicked upon sensitive flesh. He played her delicately, the sweetest symphony of harp strings at his fingertips. 

Whispers of love and devotion filled the air as he lay with her, worshiping her body, giving sacrifice after sacrifice. His goddess. His Tav. She was his world; she was the stars and moon; she was magic. And he swore he would make her complete in every way he could.

A short giggle could be heard from the library, the kind given when eyes met a longed for but unbefitting sight: the lustful suck of a finger, a bead of sweat rolling down a firm abdomen. Her cheeks blushed like that of the ripest apple. Tav lowered the letter she’d received, the words leaving her heart beating rapidly and mind on a trail of adventure. As Gale entered the room, she quickly hid it behind her back, the smirk however remaining against her will.

“A beautiful smile on a beautiful morning,” he commented, choosing to ignore the sheet of paper she clenched in her hand.

This hadn’t been the first letter in the past tenday that she had hidden from him, her eyes bright and mood giddy. He’d seen the penmanship, the curved AA that lay at the bottom with the red rose wax seal. He had tried to approach her on the matter, only for her to dismiss his concerns. Rather than open the discussion further, to outright ask her what the letters were about, he instead tried to do better by her. He put himself more into complementing her, into cooking and cleaning. He used his practiced tongue in the way he knew best and hoped that it would be enough to keep her sated.

The broad grin she held wavered, her eyes dimming a little as the words of the letter thankfully secluded themselves in the deepest part of her mind. “I’m to take a trip. I received the letter but a moment ago.”

“A trip?”

She had not spoken of anything of the sort recently, but then secrets were becoming more common with each passing day. The letters, the odd sending spell he detected as he watched her from the balcony. Words he never heard; words not meant for him to know. He stepped towards her, trying to push down the budding anxiety in his chest. He was losing her, and a trip would merely be the apparition fading into the unknown.

“You never mentioned…” His voice trailed off, hoping she would explain further, hoping he wouldn’t have to piece everything together and find a conclusion that would strike him painfully down to the core.

She kept the letter clutched behind her, feeling the coarse creases of the paper in her grasp. His worry was evident. It had been each night she had slid out of the bed away from his embrace, as she had smiled without happiness at his conjured stars, as she felt the brush of his lips upon hers but not felt the passionate fires of their first nights together.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen. It’s only a few days in Baldur’s Gate on behalf of the library there.” She knew the lie wasn’t the best, but anything like sick relatives or another serious matter would have resulted in Gale wanting to attend with her. “I’ll be staying at the boarding house at Wyrm’s Crossing. You remember the one, don’t you?”

“Not exactly the safest or most extravagant of establishments, my dear. I could always come with you, and we could stay at the Elfsong.”

She was quick to cut off the idea. “Oh no, you can’t. You have that seminar.” Tav had already taken all the dates into account. How Gale couldn’t get out of the conference on Netherese lore and fable and would be forced to stay in Waterdeep. “Besides, it will be an adventure of sorts for me. Just like old times.”

That was what concerned him most. She would find someone else if she hadn’t already and that would be it between them. Searching for solutions, he was met with nothing. Days passed, the trip nearing, and he found that each question he had was met with an already summoned answer, all ideas met with criticisms. She had planned this journey far in advance and she was leaving, whether he liked it or not.

“Tav, my love. You know I do not wish to smother you, nor stifle your free-spirited personality, but I cannot help but be concerned that something is amiss.” He took her hand in his, desperately searching her eyes for the truth, for the love he had once known from her.

All Tav could do was place her lips to his, ignore the burning in her closed eyes of the tears which threatened everything. She hated how she was hurting him, but this was for the best. If he was to be happy, to be complete, she had to leave. “I love you.”

He didn’t know if he believed the words she whispered, if her kiss was anything but a cruel substitute prize to soften the abandonment. She said she would come back, and Gale clung to that thread as if it were his last lifeline, a magical artefact to quell the destructive orb within. “And I love you.”

---

The tower felt cold and empty without her there. It would be a tenday travel to Baldur’s Gate, then however long she stayed there, then a further tenday back providing no issues occurred with the transport. She claimed it was the quickest she could do, the spells too expensive for teleportation, that the route was nice to travel this time of year, and again he had accepted her words. He knew more time away gave her more distance to cover before he would accept the truth, but he was too blinded by love, too desperate to be loved, that he accepted it all and clung onto hope.

Spending his days throwing himself into his research and teaching, he hoped it would help the time pass quicker. The AA on the letter bothered him more than it should have, the image of red rose petals she would no doubt be lying amongst distracting him from his tasks. Gale knew Tav’s past with the pale-skinned elf, someone he considered a friend, and he also knew that despite his own physical skills, he did not have two hundred years of experience to fall back on. Making love to a goddess was not the same as worshipping a mortal, and it was there he would always fall short if compared.

The route home was dismal as the rain came thundering down late in the evening. Tav had been gone for two tenday and Gale was slowly finding the routine of loneliness once again. There had been no contact since she’d left, no replies to his sending spells, no letters to know she had arrived safety. The library of Waterdeep had no confirmation of any trip, only that she had scheduled days away with an open return date. It had been that result which had confirmed everything to him, and he had prepared to move on, no matter how much it hurt.

He opened the door to the tower, his cloak drenched and knees aching from the icy winds that blew. Finding a light glimmering down the stairwell from the upper floor, he felt his heart rate increase, an igniting of the buried ember of hope he’d tried to bury.

“Darling, a little deeper… How does that feel?”

Gale heard the familiar purr and with it the soft whine of Tav, one he’d learnt himself by heart.

“Oh… again, right there…” she whimpered. “Astarion, you’re so good at this.”

Gale chucked off the sodden cloak and ran up the stairs, ignoring the pain in his legs. Wet footprints lined the stone steps, a trail of the storm left in his wake. Anger burnt deeply inside him, that they would have the nerve to return to his home and partake in such intimate activities, that she would hate him so much that she would hurt him in such a way. To abandon him without a word was something he could unfortunately handle, experience no difference between goddess or mortal, but to have the relationship trampled on, to so ashamedly flaunt someone else in his face, was simply cruel.  

He pushed open the heavy oak door to the bedroom; the laden fireplace flickering, creating dancing shadows on the walls of books and paintings. Ruffled navy-blue bedsheets lay exactly how he had left them in the morning, not twisted with the sight of two lovers in the throes of passion. What he had expected to see naked and entwined instead sat fully clothed on the sofa, both staring at him with a mixture of embarrassment and humour on their faces. Wine glasses lay on the wooden table before them, various books opened to random pages, abandoned with the night’s discussions.

Tav grinned, removing Astarion’s cool hand from her shoulder as she went to get up. “You’re late,” she joked, standing and approaching Gale. The confusion merged with anger was evident on his face, but she hoped it would pass quickly now she had returned.

“And you’re back…”

She stood within arm’s reach of Gale, wanting to lift her hand and touch the soaked white shirt and dripping chestnut hair, but not knowing if it would be the right thing to do. Neither knew what to say, how to start the inevitable discussion of her previous whereabouts.

Astarion broke the awkward silence, rising from his seat, and sipping the last of his glass of red wine before him. “I’ll take that as my cue.” He sauntered over to Tav, placing a soft but goading kiss upon her cheek. “Enjoy your night lovebirds, and if you need me, don’t be afraid to send one of your little spells.” He chuckled to himself, seeing the way Gale’s jaw tightened. “Oh, don’t worry, love. She’s all yours.”

The slamming of the door to the tower left Gale and Tav in a heavy silence. He was hurt, ready to fight, but he wanted to take his time first, draw the truth from her until she was begging for his forgiveness. “Astarion looked well,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

She sighed, bringing her soft palm to Gale’s dampened face, feeling the moisture cool her hand. Ignoring the tension was impossible and so she wanted to diffuse the hate fuelled situation as quickly as she could. “He is… Look, what you saw-”

His mood was quick to falter, too many lonely nights spilling over against his will. “What I saw was someone who I believed was my best friend cavorting with my wife,” he interrupted, twisting away from her touch as if it were a weapon ready to cut. He didn’t want to hear her excuses, her snake tongued deceit, not whilst the image of her body being touched burnt so fresh in his mind.

“Gale, just-”

“No, don’t Gale me,” he spat. “You left. Without any word or explanation, you left.” He wanted to compose himself, to approach this rationally as he did all things, but he couldn’t accept what had happened, and he certainly couldn’t accept any more lies. “I would allow it if you no longer wished to be wed, but these things should be discussed first. Instead, you lied to me, claiming you were on some trip because you lacked the common decency to say you did not love me.”

“I do love you!”

“No.” A flicker of doubt lulled in his voice, a worry that maybe he had been mistaken all along, that his history with Mystra still wormed its way in his skull and he had acted on trauma rather than truth. “I am not some fool you can toy with, Tav. I saw the letters. I know about the spells. How long has it been going on for?”

She looked at him perplexed, trying to work out where his mind had been going the last few weeks. “How long has what been going on?”

Gale scoffed at her ridiculous question, feeling insulted by her continued acting. He paced the room, his boots leaving their dampened marks on the floorboards. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. The affair!”

Without realising, she let out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing as she finally understood why he was so wound up. “It’s not like that at all. Me and Astarion are friends, you know that.”

The doubt snowballed quickly. They’d been fully clothed, but maybe he had arrived too early rather than late as they claimed. Maybe the journey to Baldur’s Gate had been innocent, but then why had she not contacted him? He stopped his movements and turned to her, taking in her soft smile, the warmth in her eyes he’d memorised on long nights of desire. “Then what is it like? Because right now, all I hear is conjecture.”

Tav took a seat on the sofa, patting to the place next to her closest to the fire. “He was teaching me some massage techniques.”

“And the letters? The trip?” Gale didn’t want to take her offer close to her, afraid that it might lure him in to a false sense of security. He was torn between believing her as he always had done and pulling away to save himself from further harm.

“Was meant to be a surprise for you, which is why I didn’t contact you. Come, sit down and I’ll explain,” she replied, her tone calming. She waited for him to be next to her, gently placing her hands on the ties of his shirt to remove it. “You’re soaked.”

“And you’re avoiding the subject…”

The loose cotton shirt came off and was thrown aside, the warmth of the fireplace hitting his flesh welcomely. She traced her finger up the centre of his chest, seeing as small, deserted raindrops collected on her nail. “Astarion has been helping me. I wrote to him asking for advice.”

Gale sighed at her touch, his body reacting despite his emotions. Usually he took charge, led the dance, orchestrated the symphony, but he was tired, longing for her touch after so many nights apart. “It went amiss to discuss matters with your husband?”

“It was advice regarding my husband.”

Heated kisses were placed on the cool skin of his neck. He leant back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her lips, a path of love and devotion being marked upon his body. “And what is so problematic about me that you must hide it?” He gasped as he felt the flick of her tongue against his nipple, a technique she had never used before, but one he found himself responded to strongly.

A devious playfulness filled her eyes at his reaction, observing the way he relaxed into her touch, the way his head hung back and his wet hair fell behind him, allowing droplets to descend to the floor without obstruction. “I want to make you happy.”

The words caught him off guard and he glanced up, seeing the way she gazed up at him, her tongue travelling lazily up to the middle of his chest, collecting the moisture. He took a deep breath with the sight, resisting taking control, trying to remain grounded to hear the truth. “You do make me happy.”

Her tongue reached his other nipple, a quick flick causing his head to fall back with the pleasure yet again. The quickening of his breathing provoked her to do it again, the writhe of his body with the stimulus too much to stay still. She’d always suspected he would be sensitive in such areas, but never understood what it would take to get such neediness from him. Not until now. “Not in the same way you do me.”

She pulled herself back, satisfied with the state he was in. “Me and Astarion took a trip to Sharess’ Caress,” she continued, shrugging off the black fabric of her own clothes from her shoulders, her bare breasts visible in the dim light of the fireplace. “He showed me how I could complete you in the same way you do me.”

Gale responded to the words by sharply sitting up with a confused but offended look on his face. “You spent the night with him?”

Shaking her head with a subtle smile, she placed a palm on his chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “No. Just like you did so many moons ago, I simply watched.” Her fingertips trailed down the centre of his stomach as he reclined back and as they reached the hem of his trousers, she continued speaking, seeing as he calmed if a little unsure of her actions. “He spent the night pleasuring the young Drow there, demonstrating to me the various areas of which he was skilled.”

Tav’s hand slipped into Gale’s trousers, and he let out a held breath. Her touch was featherlight, not the inexperienced gasping he’d once tried to talk her through. Now it was a light stroking, a twist around the shaft that made him want to jolt further into her palm. Just as he would get used to the rhythm and feel the precipice approaching, she would change gears, her grip becoming firmer, the pace quickened. 

“You see, too many nights have you have made me see stars,” she purred, watching as his hand clutched the shadow touched fabric of the chair, the way he bit his lower lip at the sight of her naked breasts. “And I know you’d be okay to continue doing that. But I wanted to be more, to give you more. You deserve more.”

He felt as her other hand pulled at his trousers, forcing him to lift his hips so they could be removed. He quickly brought his arm up, taking her breast in his hand and bringing his mouth towards to the hardened pink flesh. Before he could suck on it deeply, she pressed him back yet again.

“Ah ah. Not tonight.”

Gale kept his hand firm on her chest, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin. He wanted to continue playing, wanted to do as he always did and devote himself fully to her, but curiosity got the better of him. What had she learnt from her little adventure to the Keep? It was as he let go on his control, feeling the warm pressure of her mouth around his cock, that he knew.

Gone was the innocent woman he had married, and now before him was a mistress of seduction. Her soft moans as he attempted not to buck upwards filled his senses. She pulled away for a second, soft kisses placed down his shaft, leaving him breathless and needy, her hand taking over with the slight twist at the head.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long to you. You feel so good,” she whispered between the soft placement of her lips.

He could feel himself getting closer, the sway of her breasts no longer in view as he leant back, closing his eyes and panting into each carefully executed movement upon him. The pressure built with the firm wrapping of her lips around his length, her tongue pressed to the underside, forcing him to the back of her mouth. He wanted to rut into her, wanted to lift her and fuck her in front of the fireplace, but with each moan she gave, each pulse of his cock within her, he lost himself further.

He opened his eyes, wordlessly longing for her to remove the rest of her clothing, to lay herself upon him so he could give to her, just as he had so many times before. The gentle rise and fall of her head, her darkened eyes pinned on him, were almost too much and he released a groan of need.

As her soft hand grasped the base of his cock, joining the dance, he knew he was perilously close to his edge. “Tav… I…” Her pressure changed. Words were gone, thoughts were gone. There were only white-hot stars that filled his vision as his release hit, her tongue lapping up his seed whilst still massaging the sensitive flesh it held. He jolted into her, the pleasure continuing without remorse, his nerves on fire as she slowed her pace to extend the ecstasy as long as she could. He may have once had the practiced tongue, but on that night Gale, usually so verbose, was left with only the energy to give a quiet whimper of contentment.

Tav licked and rolled her lips as she sat back, observing what had become of her husband, his skin now moistened with sweat rather than rain, his tongue tied rather than its normal loosened state. Touching his body was met with a shiver, which caused a smug satisfaction to rise on her cheeks.

“Hm. If that’s what happens on just the first night, I wonder what will happen with a thousand more.”

[sky-kiss]

Dad!Phael: Dog Days

A/N: I'm committing a dark and terrible sin. But I had a mighty need. Kids name is Orin because...my Durge has issues. I dunno. Have some horrible trash.

___________________

Raphael: When You Create a Mini You, But You Kinda Suck

___________________

The little terror will not stop hounding him.

Raphael massages his temple, his right hand still folded over his belly. His daughter stands before his desk, hands folded neatly at the small of her back. In a rare twist of fate, she is the very picture of courtly etiquette. The shouts echoing down the halls have made it clear that this is no happenstance occurrence: the princess, unflappable and secure in the deference afforded her position, had harassed her mother's maidservants until they'd relented. Her dark hair is neatly braided, tied with strands of precious metal. Her dress is polite and clean. She is perfectly still. 

A lie. A very convincing lie, but Raphael is not in the habit of indulging naughty children. The cambion leans back in his seat. "You've brought me a proposal, I see?" 

"Yes." Little Orin holds her head high, delicate and lovely, well-spoken, as any of his spawn ought to be. She is nearly five, and while he is delighted to be free of her nonsensical chattering, eloquence has brought a new slew of problems. Namely, understanding. He can understand her. And she is never silent. 

He hums, flicking his attention to the neatly stacked sheets of paper on his deck. "These here?" 

"Yes, father." His heir shifts. She wants to rock back on her heels so badly. The stillness drives her mad. "For you to…" Orin frowns, brow furrowing as she searches for the word. The devil will not help her. She scowls, grasping for something near enough to express her meaning, "Look."

Another hum. The archdevil plucks the topmost piece of her manuscript from the pile. Raphael thumbs the entirety of her little manifesto across the desk. The crux of each remains unchanged—artwork (childish and borderline unrecognizable) accompanied by a stretch of mangled penmanship. 

He didn't need to look at it. The little beast has made her desire entirely plain. 

The debtors do not interest her. She is too young to frequent the dungeons. 

She desires a pet to accompany her through the House. More precisely, she wants a hound. Raphael purses his lips, eyeing her artwork again. It resembles a hound in the loosest sense.

"My dear…"

Her face screws up in irritation. Orin opens her mouth to speak, only to snap it shut. He watches her wrestle herself under control. She inhales through her nose, stiffening. "But…" she nods towards the papers. "Wrote it. Mother said…"

"Ah, yes. Your mother." Raphael stands, moving around the desk and crossing to his heir. A lovely little thing, eyes bright and wide and hopeful. He remains the center of her world, the fixed point where she hangs all her dreams. He holds the proposal out to her. "Do it again. More effort this time." He hears the duchess's voice in his head: five. She's five, Raphael. He shunts her advice to the back of his awareness, kneeling in front of the girl. "Convince me, dear one. Now, begone with you." 

She snatches the papers back. To her credit, she maintains her composure until she's past the boudoir's threshold. After that, Raphael hears her grumbling (loudly) to herself. Good girl.

_________

He rejects the second proposal. 

And the third. 

The fourth is passable, but the girl looks so positively self-righteous, so purely livid, that he sends her away on principle. On the fifth attempt, Orin sends her mother. 

He's delighted by the underhandedness and the cunning. He is less enthused by his consort's sudden appearance and temper. 

On the seventh attempt, he accepts his daughter's petition. 

___________

He summons the kennel master the following day, intent on selecting a pup from the litter—a dignified creature suited to her more delicate frame. The Archduke of Avernus weaves through the little creatures and watches them tumble and scrap among themselves. 

Some have the makings of great hunters. The hound master has brought one bitch from Mephistopheles' stock, already twice the size of the average pup. He suspects (though he cannot confirm) that one of the unlittered pups has Nessian stock somewhere in its bloodline, darker than the average hound. The two hounds bully their way through their smaller kin, not a hint of grace in their forms, brutish and lacking refinement. 

They do not interest him. Raphael's attention flicks to a little bitch near the edge of the commotion. She remains seated throughout it all, fur midnight dark, head held high. She holds his gaze, unflinching—an elegant creature of immaculate breeding. She will be Leonine. His huntress! Well-suited for the little princess! 

Orin inhales sharply. She is here at her mother's behest, sworn to act on her most courtly manners. The she-devil nearly vibrates out of her skin. Her attention is fixed on the massive brutes. Orin looks up at him with desperate eyes. "Father…"

And the kennel master must know because he clucks his tongue and applauds the 'little lady.' Raphael feels a dawning horror settle over him like a shroud as the fiend scoops the largest pup from the group. He deposits him at the princess' feet. 

No, he will not have one of Mephistopheles' experiments roaming his halls. He will not.

"No." The archdevil holds his head high, setting a hand on his prodigy's shoulder. Muscles flex beneath his touch. Orin doesn't move towards the pup, but she does curl her fingers in an invitation, grinning when it presses its head into her palm. Her expression drips with savage vindication. Raphael blames her mother. "The little one. The female, there. She is more suited." 

"She's so small," Orin grumbles. 

"As are you, pet."

"I want this one." She indicates the brute. It stares up at him in dumb wonderment. 

"And the little lady does have impeccable taste, Master. If I could…" Raphael fixes the fiend with a look so full of hate that it recoils, hands held up for peace. "Aye, you know your business." 

Raphael makes the mistake of kneeling. The hounds turn as one, hungry for the attention of one they instinctively recognize as Master. Orin is delighted. "Your presence here was conditional, princess. You recall this?" She nods, attention flicking between him and the hounds. "And whose word is law?" 

"Yours." 

"Yes, mine. Clever girl" 

He sees the gears in her head turning, looking for a way out. It delights and rankles. This little creature can only toddle after and adore him, but here she is already looking for a foothold in the great game. Orin purses her lips, and he sees so much of himself in the expression. Strange. She speaks slowly, positioning the massive pup between them. 

"I love him." 

"Irrelevant. Do try again." 

She rolls her eyes. And that is the duchess, irreverent, insufferable creature. "You," she indicates her sire, "Love her?" 

"I have selected her." 

"And the House is big? So why not…" she shrugs, looking down. "Both? One for Father. One of Orin. And then they won't be alone. They shouldn't be alone, papa."

Raphael frowns. The thrice damned kennel master says, "The Lil lady ain't wrong, ser. They're pack creatures." 

"I will send you to the pits if you do not keep silent, servant." He looks between the girl and the hound (now cradled in her arms). Raphael feels himself being manipulated. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Very well." 

"What about mother?" 

He scowls, eyes narrowing. "What of her?" 

"If we both have a hound," she stares at him with her hopeful eyes, her adoration, and her damned obvious self-satisfaction. "Won't she be hurt? Left out?"

And, oh, he has created a wretched creature. His spawn smiles. 

She gets her damned hound. And the rest of the litter for good measure, damn her.