#drabble or ic convo

[lultimagoccia]

Peppino had been so surprised by the name on Caller ID, he'd nearly dropped his phone. He fumbled it between hands, saving it from near destruction against the tiled pizzeria floor in just the nick of time before lifting the device to his ear. Almost didn't want to speak. He was afraid she may not answer.

“ H - hello, angioletto. Are you okay? ”

There was a pause – please don't have hung up, please, he just wanted to hear –

“ Heyyyy, Papa. I'm okay! I just … wanted t' check in. And wish ya a happy Father's Day .”

Relief, utter relief and absolute joy at hearing his daughter’s voice responding. His own shook as he spoke again, emotions boiling within his chest, filling his lungs with air that wanted out all at once. But he had to keep his calm, control his feelings. Too many mistakes had been made in moments he failed to do so.

“ Father's Day, today? Really?? My God … I really been losing track of the days. Thank you, Calamaretti. I … I am so happy to hear you. I miss you so much. ”

“...I miss ya too, Papa, ” she replied sadly. “ 'm sorry, for not callin' more … ”

“ No, no! ” Pepp was quick to reassure her, before forcing himself to regain his calm, even tone. “ No … it is okay. I understand. You got your own life, your own things to take care of. I am always here when you need me. Always. ”

A measured breath, like she was trying to contain a swell of emotion. He hoped he had not made her more sad. He never knew what to say, to not make things worse. So he let her take the lead, talk about what she wanted to.

“ … I, uh ... heard about Bisnonno … ” she began again, hesitantly. “ I really wanna fly out, but I got finals coming up and I just couldn’t afford th' tickets right now. But I was worryin' about you, that it was hard for ya to handle all of that, alone … ”

“ It has been hard. Very hard. But I am not alone. Please, focus on your studies and do not worry for me. I am doing well now. ”

“ Thank God, that makes me feel so much better about it ... who's helpin' you? Gustavo? Nonna Margherita? ”

“ ...my, eh. My. She's. Hmmh. ”

He wasn't ashamed of Creecher – quite the opposite, he adored his wife - to - be and was very proud to admit so. But it was always a little nerve wracking, introducing a new partner to his daughter. He worried what she might feel about it. While his life continued on, he never wanted her to feel she was left behind. That he had moved on, without her. She was always in his heart, and so much tenderness and understanding had come from being her father.

“ She? Is … are ya seein' somebody new, Papa? ”

“... yes. Her name is Creecher. I … got no idea how to explain alla that quickly … “

“ Well. I got time. Why don’tcha tell me all of it, slowly. Always did love your stories, right? ”

Peppino chuckled, the sound rolling all the way through him. This was good. A door opening again. A hand extended, offering him the chance to come in again to her life. He just had to be a good houseguest, while he was there.

“ I will do my best, heh! Let me think … her name is Creech, like I say. She is … incredible. Older than me, than anybody. Than the town, even! She come from the forest, and she protect it all that time. ”

Alone. Life moving around her, just within reach but never within her grasp. They had both been so alone before meeting, existing within a world that changed them, but never seemed to make a space for them within it. What a wonderful turn of fate that they found each other, and carved out that space for themselves instead. 

“ We meet by chance, many months ago now ... ” felt like a lifetime, at this point. Like her place in his life had been sitting vacant until she was ready to occupy it. He opted not to mention she was living in his garbage can, that part felt much less whimsical and romantic than was proper for a love story like this one. “ She is not like anybody I met. She is clever, and wise, she got a wicked sense of humor and she understands me. I … I am very happy, angel. ”

“ …she sounds really incredible, Papa. I’m really happy for you. All I've ever wanted for you and Mama was for you two to be okay. ”

“ Ah … it is not your job to worry about our happiness, angioletto. You got to take care of you. ”

“ ... I'm trying to, Papa. But it's been so hard, lately. ”

“ Hard? ” his brow furrowed, phone clutched in both hands. If only he could hold her hands in his own, take the pain and burden from her. He knew the world could be merciless, no matter how strong you were. He knew that sometimes, you got tired of being strong. “ Talk to me, angel. What is so hard? I will listen. I am here. ”

There was silence from the other end, such that he feared she would pull back again. She wanted to prove she could handle herself, he knew that. She wanted to show she was brave and did not need Papa fighting all her fights for her, dragging her by the hand everywhere and getting in the way all the time –

“ ... the girl I was seeing. She, uh. It didn't work out. ”

“ Ohh…I am sorry. What happen? ” he asked sympathetically, permitting himself a little protective fatherly anger at the thought that girl she was seeing, ol' What's - Her - Who - Now had missed out on the chance of a lifetime. Her loss! His angel was too good for her, anyway.

“ It’s a lot. I mean, it’s Father’s Day, I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about all my lame college relationship drama … ”

“ ... well. I love your stories. And I got time. Tell it slowly. ”

She laughed, genuinely giggled the way she used to at his jokes, when she was small. And Peppino felt a great warmth settle within his chest, the slightly painful but necessary repair of an old wound finally sealing itself back together. And so they spoke at length, of life, of food, of all that they had missed in the time since last they had talked.

It was the happiest Father’s Day Peppino could ever recall.

[inseparableduo]

"My name's Kat. I brought the gummy bears. When I was 6 my mom killed herself so, she could meet my dad up in heaven." The girl then pours the entire bag in the bowl.

"I'm Darla! Uhhhhh. I brought the peach rings and when I was little I drew a picture of my family. When I showed it to my dad he ripped up the paper and then slapped me so, hard I put, a hole in the wall." Darla then pours the entire bag in the bowl.

"I'm Andrew. I got the sour gummy worms. When I was younger my dad once locked me in a closet because I told him I was hungry."

[thebananwithaplan]

Banana figured he needed to get that conversation out of the way before anything else. But now that there's a temporary guest around, trying to have a private one-on-one without arousing curiosity is near-impossible.

So his plan was to directly message the Oldest. Regular phone messages would ring or vibrate a lot per each message sent, but online messages from a mobile app don't as long as they're active.

"....Phew. That... that wasn't too bad." Wow. An actual 'serious' discussion with the oldest of his nephews. Granted, it was by texts rather than actual talking but. That still went better than he expected...

[enarmor]

@scharlakol & @sacaeblade sent:

18. A memory they’d love to change tosses a grenade before you can get me

//sacae wants me dead forreal

//via memories; no longer accepting

Daisies to say 'I love you'

Carnations for an ache

Lilies are a virtue

And Bellflowers mean 'I'll see you when I wake'

Sain breathes deep. Every flower in his arrangement is accounted for, each of their petaled heads touched by the tip of his finger. He's been rummaging through the bouquet for the better half of an hour now, ensuring that every last detail is perfect--is picturesque. This would be the climactic scene at the end of his act. He'd finally roll up his sleeve and allow his lady to see the heart he wears underneath, speaking truly and honestly when he professes his love.

He knows what he is. That he's very rarely taken seriously. But dash your head against a rock enough times, and it may just start to crack; maybe this time she'll understand. Maybe this time she'll see.

He cradles the flowers like they're a newborn, saddling onto his mount with measured motions. Like treading upon a carpet of gossamer, he is careful. Not even the wind can be allowed to misarrange that which he has painstakingly crafted.

He rides.

And as he draws near, she comes into view. She is the very picture of beauty, just as lovely and refined as their first encounter. Her hair is warm and gentle, like a breeze, but her eyes are each wells of insurmountable strength. They are perfect compliments to one another: the sun's first ray on a field of morning frost. Nothing is too cold, and nothing too hot. Everything attains balance and moderation by another of her qualities. And when he sees her move, he finds it difficult to look away. Every motion, every flick of the blade, is deliberate and practiced. She flows faster and more poised than any river: a movement Sain wishes would end up in his arms. To see her dance across and open field and end in his hand, he could die happy. Every effort spared for her would have been made more than worthwhile, such that the remainder of his life's breaths could all be hers to claim. He wants her. He needs her. In the way a sunflower turns to the sky, aching for its one true love.

And right now, she's... Speaking with the others.

And she looks happy.

Sain stops himself. He laughs a little, noticing how easily she does the same. Except, he doesn't think he's ever heard her laugh. Not while he was around, at least. 'It seems there are no decent men among Lycia's knights,' she had once said. And though it failed to reach him then, the realization that he has more than just his own reputation to tarnish takes root. There is Kent, too, and Lord Wallace. And his father, who he fears a slight against more than any other. Is it right for him to be doing this? The Lance sucks in a breath. His gaze falls from Lyndis and the others, and onto his bouquet. It seems... Pathetic. Insufferable. Like it would only earn further scorn against his house and knightly order. "They... Don't deserve that," he mutters, looking back to his liege to see that she has still not noticed him.

"There's still time to go back."

If asked about why he had spoken those words, Sain could not come up with an answer. They sort of just fell out of his mouth, far beyond the reach of his own control. And as they do, his vision grows bleak. The world dons a deeper shade of gray--reflected in his eyes by the loss of focus in their lenses. Nothing seems worthwhile. Not the flowers, not the sappy poem to go along with them--not even his service, in a way. But the shake of his head dispels that last thought. Sain may be able to convince himself that Lyndis will never accept him as her man, but he will always be her knight. He chews on the inside of his cheek. Hands tremble as they reach for his horse's reins, but once they're grabbed, he yanks them back.

The flowers fall from his hands, destroyed in an instant by the trampling of hooves. Daisies are torn, petal from petal, and half-ground into a medicinal sludge. Carnations, with their crimson buds, look like a stain of blood against the side of the road. Lilies lose their virtue, becoming nothing more than a sinner's discarded hope as their purity is dyed brown with dust. And Bellflowers, whose shape had been so pronounced and well-kept, are flattened. Naught remains but tattered heads and splintered stems.

Sain has whipped his mount into a full sprint, making the choice to venture back into town and keep his secret safe in his heart. The arms of a village maiden, though transient, will soothe his hurt feelings for a short while.

"It won't hurt anyone this way. Not me, not them..."

[devilmademewriteit]

Drabble request for dbf!joel getting blown under the table or something while he's having a convo with reader's dad?!?! IDK I just love your dbf!joel!!

You Can Be the Boss

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

warnings: rough oral (m receiving); petnames (angel, baby, sweetheart); age gap; choking; hair pulling; (yall this is pure pure daddy issues FILTH, I warned you. I warned you hard).

Hi y’all ty for sending me all ur requests. ummm you guys are insane ! and so am I ! maybe more because I’m actually the one writing these ! this one is so dirty ! don’t say I didn’t warn you !

more to come hehehe. I don’t tag ppl for my smaller drabbles / fics so turn on notifs or whatevs ;)

-em<3

—

“As close as I’ll get to the darkness, he tells me to, ‘Shut up, I got this.’”

- You Can Be the Boss

—

It was still a secret, after all.

Sneaking into his apartment, late nights in alleys, abandoned cars lining the streets of the QZ… you’d managed to keep your joint intoxication with one another under wraps.

Today��� today was risky. You usually waited until the wee hours of the morning to even walk by his place, let alone enter, but you’d needed to drop off a sweater that Tess had leant you the previous week, intending to leave it folded up on the doormat before bolting down the hall. Your footsteps were nervous and heavy, which led to the door swinging wide open on its hinges, a gruff “where you runnin’ off to, Angel?” and a set of rough hands pulling you through the doorway.

Then you were spread open against the tattered table cloth of his (busy) kitchen table, underwear shoved to the side, watching a hunched over Joel Fucking Miller spit on his hand and run it up down his heavy, hard length.

“Shouldn’t come here during the day,” as he’d lined himself up, “Can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

That’s when you heard the definite sound of a key twisting inside a lock. Joel’s head shot up — your eyes barely had time to widen before he was shoving you under the table, panties still twisted around your ankles.

A quick zip, then footsteps.

“Oh, sorry man—”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“—Tess said you wouldn’t be home.”

It’s your father.

You thank God for your his poor observation skills (and the tablecloth) as Joel responds, “ah, no worries,” frustratingly non-chalant as ever.

“While you’re here though,” and your heart sinks, identifying your dad’s intention to stay, “Was wondering if we could go over the plans for our new routes. FEDRA assholes blocked off another south-east one today.”

Your blood turns to ice inside your veins as both men pull out their chairs, settling into a purely-business conversation. Joel barely hesitates, cool as ice.

Not fair that he gets to be so calm while you’re so… not.

Not fair.

If only there was a way to even out the playing field.

Crunched into yourself, you scoot closer to Joel’s calves, clinging onto his denim and doing your best to make as little noise as possible. When it’s clear, however, that your father’s far too invested in the practicalities of the conversation to suspect or inquire into or even notice anything else, your eyes wander towards the slowly softening bulge, still visible underneath Joel’s belt.

And you get an idea.

The man always tortured you, and you were well aware that what made your arrangement especially enticing — for the both of you — was the taboo-ness, the wrongness of it all.

So your pussy drips just thinking about it.

Slowly, delicately, you slide your hands up Joel’s thighs, feeling his every muscle respond, tensing, turning to stone, or jolting with electricity beneath your playful touches.

It’s hard, quietly pulling down his fly. Still, metal tooth by metal tooth, you eventually succeed, unable to hold back a smile of vindication when his cock springs up, swelling and hardening between your fingertips. Joel covers his choke with a cough.

Just as you duck down to lick a fat stripe up his cock’s dark underside, noticing how the lungs above you constrict — freezing — the conversation changes.

“You been seeing a lot of my daughter?”

Joel takes an uncharacteristically long time to grunt out a “here n’ there.”

You hold in a laugh, both at your dad’s timely question and the reaction it causes. Placing a hand at the base of him, you consider this the perfect moment to start teasing his tip with patient, innocent little kitten-licks.

“Been acting weird,” your old man continues, unphased and unassuming, “Worried she’s been gettin’ herself into trouble.”

Trouble? You’re looking at him.

Your dad’s whole “fatherly concern” (not like he’d ever shown any before) angle makes you bold. You want to make it harder for Joel to deny your father’s suspicion.

You want to make him lie through his teeth.

You part your lips, wrapping them adoringly around the entire head of his cock before gliding down, using your hand to assist you as you please every inch of him.

While he mostly manages to keep it together, his legs don’t, gently parting with desire to allow you better access.

“She-she’s a good girl, man,” Joel manages, and while his delivery borders a groan, he stays surprisingly level (your body doesn’t forget to note his praise, either, aching cunt growing wetter and wetter at his every word). “‘Bit juvenile sometimes, and reckless—” he pauses, and it’s very clear he’s not speaking to your father, “—but good—” you work every inch of him with your hands, throat, and mouth, savouring the feel of his ridges and veins, the taste of his salt on your tastebuds, “—so good.”

You freeze, scanning the room for tension as both you and Joel try to figure out if his desire-stricken tone’s given you away.

It hasn’t.

Of course it hasn’t.

Your dad continues on as if everything were normal, as if Joel’s tip wasn’t kissing the back of your throat. “Just not sure if I’m raising her right—or… or if I was much of a father at all.”

Yeah, probably not. You know, given that I’m under the table sucking your best friend’s dick.

You watch, head still slowly bobbing up and down his length, a hand carving a careful path down his leg. Joel’s fingertips breach your shoulder, his palm slowly graduates to cupping the back of your head.

And he shoves you forward, forcing every punishing inch of himself down your little, gasping throat.

“Just needs a little discipline,” your torturer responds, raising his gravelly voice to mask the definite sound of choking.

“A heavy hand.”

You huff against his abdomen. Just like that, Joel’s taken the reins of your little operation.

Like he always did. Like he always does.

“You’re probably right,” your father responds, sighing with concession. Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes while your lungs burn for oxygen, mouth stuffed and nose pressed into Joel’s skin. He chuckles, slapping the table. “Give ‘em an inch and they take a mile, huh?”

“That’s right,” Joel responds, a soft coo, tightening his grasp in your hair and somehow forcing more of himself between your lips.

Making his point.

You hold back a whimper, nails hopelessly clawing at his jeans.

Your dad raps his knuckles against the wood, pushing his chair back to leave. Unfortunately for you, Joel doesn’t move, holding you there like a prisoner — suffocating you.

He clears his throat. “I’d walk you out, but, you know—” your eyelids grow heavy, little stars beginning to dance in your vision “—been goin’ hard recently. Wearin’ myself out.”

A huff of understanding and concurrence from the other side of the room.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, hinges squeak, goodbyes are uttered, and your father’s left you alone with his buddy again.

Joel’s chair scrapes back — he pulls you along with him, attached to him, out from underneath the table.

Finally, finally, he releases his grasp.

You jump off of him, strings of saliva trailing from your lips, gasping for air as if you were seconds from drowning.

You aim to collapse against his knees, but he quickly grabs you by the throat, presses his big thumb under your chin, and forces your wet, tear-lined eyes up to meet his.

They’re filled with a lust so dark, you wonder if just that look might swallow you whole.

“Prouda yourself?” He speaks, voice low.

Dangerous.

And you just smile, dazed, nodding. Nodding because you know where it’ll get you. Nodding because you just know how much it’ll entice him.

“‘Course you are,” he continues, softer, “Shoulda been honest — shoulda told your old man he raised a fuckin’ slut.”

Joel lifts you up, indelicately shoving you down on the table, right back in the position you’d originally started the visit in.

His eyes darken to black when he sees how wet you are, how fucked-out, needy, and unapologetic you are.

“And you know what, baby?” A deceiving coo as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his other hand to squeeze your jaw — tight.

You look at him with big, begging doe eyes, eyebrows already knitting together from the tantalizing contact.

“I’m really fuckin’ glad he did.”

And as Joel Miller roughly sheathes his cock inside your young, tight cunt, you find yourself agreeing with him.

��

MASTERLIST

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[queermentaldisaster]

۞Masterlist/Info۞

I'm Elowen! I write fanfics, and post about shit I like! I also talk with my mutuals a lot! I use she/they/it/xe/ze/lotus pronouns! I do read dark fic and have dabbled in writing it. This is a safe space for all, I do not tolerate hatred of any kind. If you are hateful to others, I will block you. I am not religious at all. I am happily taken, any attempts at flirting with me in a srs manner will be shut down. I do support Palestine, wholeheartedly. Zionists, racists, transphobes, homophobes, ableists, zoophiles, pedophiles, etc, DNI (translation, don't be a fuckin asshole or creep.) Also, if you support making stories and art using AI or use AI to make stories and art, get the fuck off my page. Reasons for that are listed here. Dividers by @sisterlucifergraphics

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[the-crimson]

Let the Light Shine Through My Glass Heart

A little drabble inspired by Tallulah and BBH’s convo the other night.

“You know we all love you, Tallulah.”

“I’m sure Wilbur will get back soon!”

“Yea, he’s out there making lots of money for when he comes home.”

Tallulah clenches her fists, heart leaping in her throat. A left over gust of wind from the Pumpkin Lord’s aura sprays sand in the air and Tallulah takes the opportunity to turn away, fists rubbing the tears of frustration from her burning eyes.

She wishes she could melt all this desert sand into glass so she could shape it into a heart and to shatter it only to roll in the pieces. Maybe that could distract her from the mind numbing pain pulsing in her chest - if only for a moment - but a moment would be long enough.

“Tallulah?” The gentle - always gentle - hand on her shoulder draws her gaze and Tallulah looks up at Bad through vision marred by unshed tears.

“Let’s summon another one!” One of her siblings shouts, Pomme and Richas running past in a whirlwind of kicked up sand whileTallulah and Bad shield their faces.

“Tio Bad, can we talk in private?” Tallulah asks hardly above a whisper. She considers any noise above a squeak an accomplishment with her racing heart surging in her throat.

“Of course. Stay with Foolish, kids!” Bad replies, shouting at the chaotic mess that is Tallulah’s siblings. The two clamber through deep sand atop one of the sand dunes so Bad can keep a watchful eye on the others but he gazes at Tallulah expectantly with the soft but somewhat distant eyes that always seem to pass through her.

“What is it, Tallulah?”

Tallulah breathes deeply and her hands curl into trembling fists on the rim of her sweater, if she holds on tight enough maybe she’ll find the courage to keep standing when the next gust of wind threatens to tear her down like so many houses of cards.

“You always say soon. Everyone always says I am loved and surrounded by family but I feel like I am screaming into the void because none of you are listening.” She pauses to breathe as tears well inside her. She can feel herself shaping the glass with one hand and grasping the hammer with the other. “I know you love me. I know Philza loves me. I know all my siblings love me. I know any of the other parents would come running if I called. I know! That doesn’t change the fact that my father is gone!”

Ice cold tears stream down her cheeks and she throws her hands in the air. Glass explodes in her mind as she takes the hammer to her own glass heart, mentally screaming with every swing as everything she’s been suppressing for so long tears free.

“Everyone always tells me that it’ll be alright! That I’m loved! That Wilbur will come back soon! Soon, soon, soon! It’s the same empty words every time but none of you are listening! None of you can tell me what to do when I try to picture my father’s face and all I see is you and abuelito! What am I supposed to do then?”

Bad closes his eyes with a grimace and glances to the side where invisible footprints appear in the sand. He takes a step towards the eavesdroppers and shouts, “Get out of here you little rapscallions!” He flinches at the venom in his voice but the kids skitter away giggling in a spray of sand. Bad sighs and turns back to Tallulah, kneels before her.

Tallulah watches her siblings retreat but returns focus to her tio when Bad takes one of her white knuckled fists in both of his tender hands, now at eye level as he kneels in the sand but he can’t look her in the eyes, instead gazing at her hand as he unfurls her stiff fingers, revealing the half moons of red carved into her palm. A tear glitters in the moonlight as it rolls down his cheek and Tallulah takes a shaky gasp.

She looks at the shattered fragments of the once beautiful glass surrounding her and the hammer suddenly drags her forward, its full weight threatening to drag her to the grown but she drops it. She looks at the lines of crimson forming on her hands and arms and collapses to her knees. Bad catches her and brings her into his chest as she shudders and holds her self.

Through trembling and uneven breaths, Tallulah whispers, “I consider you and abelito Philza my parents more than my own father. What kind of daughter does that make me?”

Tallulah waits for Bad to say something, anything, but all she hears is the wind whistling through the sand dunes, her siblings playing with Foolish in the distance, and her own racing heart beat. She leans her head into Bad’s chest and he holds her tighter with slightly trembling arms.

Tallulah shifts slightly as annoyance bubbles within her. Why are you crying? Bad must sense her discomfort as he releases her and pinches his eyes. Tallulah hufs slightly and pulls her knees to her chest, turns her head away from him, shaking it slightly. They always make this about them. Her cheeks burn and she remembers the heat of the Diablo she’d fought in the casino not an hour earlier. The rush of slaughtering those monsters surges through her as she remembers hacking and slashing at the Nightmare Stalkers until long after they’d stopped moving. She takes the hammer, handle slick with her own blood, and turns to the remaining half of her glass heart.

“I had someone once,” Bad whispers.

Tallulah stops mid step, his voice merely a whisper in the chaos that is her thoughts.

“We fought - often -” she can hear the smile in his voice and lifts her head to glance at his feet, not quite able to look him in the eyes - “but he was... my everything.” Tallulah sniffs and wipes her nose, lowers the hammer slightly.

“Then I got on a train and he was late. Then he missed the boat and the plane...” Bad trails off and Tallulah glances at him as Bad looks over his shoulder at the kids who are long out of earshot. “But I was graced with the greatest thing I never knew I needed and it seemed like everything was fine. I fell in love with a little egg and I would never trade my son for anything but...” He looks down at his hand as he scoops up sand and watches it trickle through his fingers. “I think about him less and less everyday and then I find diamonds and it all comes rushing back. Sometimes I can’t breathe as I remember and I just feel like I’m falling, flailing to hold onto memories that are like grains of sand.”

He meets her uneasy gaze with a melancholy smile.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tallulah. I’m just as lost.”

A clang echoes in Tallulah’s mind as she drops the hammer and sinks to her knees. Bad kneels with her in the shards of glass that dig into both of their legs. He offers her the unbroken half of her glass heart.

“We’ll figure it out together, yea?”

Tallulah nods with a broken laugh and wipes her eyes. She leans into his side and they both look out at the horizon as pink tendrils creep into the sky. Bad and Tallulah begin the arduous task of collecting the fragments of glass and she sighs as she leans into him. Hearts are made to be broken but she can’t help to breathe a smile thinking about how beautiful her glass heart will look once she’s pieced it back together and can hold it up let the light shine through.

[mrsbsmooth]

Lewie Drabble

Based off a convo with @sophiebernadotte about whether or not Lewie would ever get a tattoo:

(Post-fic AU from Off Limits)

Under the cut

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, babe, it’s a tattoo,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to do this if you d—“

Lewie stopped her, sweeping her into his arms, hugging her as he made her walk backwards. Kisses peppered her face, and she burst into furious giggles, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I want to,” he said. “I’m so excited for it. I’m just nervous it’s gonna hurt and that the tattoo artist is gonna think I’m a pussy.”

Katie burst out laughing, squeezing him tighter. “Babe, he’s the sweetest guy ever, he’s not gonna think you’re a pussy. Besides, even if he did, he’s obsessed with cats.”

*

They stepped in to the studio, and without warning, she was swept into a hug.

“Katie!” Oliver grinned. “It’s so great to see you!!”

As best she could, she wrapped her arms around Oli’s neck, reaching up to try and bridge the entire extra foot he had on her.

“Oli, this is Lewie,” she said as they finally broke apart. “He’s your canvas today.”

Lewie stuck out his hand, but Oli swept him into a hug as well, Katie bursting into a fit of laughter once more. Never could she have expected her 6’0 boyfriend to look so much like a ragdoll, but next to the 6’5 brick house that was Oliver, he looked tiny in comparison.

*

Lewie was sat in the chair, his skin prepped, and Oliver had the stencil ready.

“So, the moment of truth,” Oliver said. “Where do you want it?”

Lewie stuck out his forearm, and pointed.

Katie gasped, grinning a mile wide. “You want it there?”

He nodded. “I want to be able to see it every day.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly, a little at a loss of what to say. But before she could say anything, the studio door flung open.

“We’re here! We’re here!!” Bec said, her usual whirlwind of energy following her. “Sorry we’re late, this one’s queasy again.”

Caden looked around the studio with a distinct gaze of unease, frowning at the needles to Olivers side.

“You really didn’t need to come,” Lewie laughed. “Oliver said it’s going to take like less than ten minutes to do.”

“Moral support, babes!” Bec grinned. “Plus, we can get ice cream after.”

Lewie’s face lit up, but immediately paled as Oli switched on the tattoo gun. But before he even had a chance to go near Lewie’s arm, Caden was throwing up into the bin.

*

Caden sorted with a glass of water and his feet up, Bec and Katie were watching with anticipation. Oliver switched on the gun, and Lewie looked away as he brought it to his wrist, biting his lip nervously. Katie couldn’t help but giggle, squeezing his other hand, and Bec was damn near crying at how cute the whole thing was.

True to his word, Oliver was finished in a little over six minutes. As soon as he announced they were done, Lewie took a deep breath, as if he hadn’t breathed the whole time.

Katie stood up to look, but Lewie covered it with his other hand, grinning a mile wide. “No, no, no peeking!”

He glanced under his hand, and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, thanking Oliver profusely and telling him it was perfect.

And then, it was Katie’s turn.

She had no idea what Lewie had asked for. She had no idea what she was about to have tattooed on her. All she knew was that Bec had been squealing about how cute it all was for weeks.

Oliver switched out his needles, and got to work.

It was only another few minutes, and she didn’t look, not until Oliver announced that she, too, was done. She glanced at Lewie, who was beaming back at her, and she looked down.

It was a tiny, triangular corn chip, one corner dipped in cheese, and she gasped, the beautiful tribute to Nacho, her beloved golden retriever. But right there, beside it, another, smaller version.

She glanced up at Lewie, her eyes wild and wide, and he had the photo ready, turning his phone to show her the picture.

A puppy. A beautiful, perfect, tiny baby golden retriever, a pretty pink bow wrapped around her neck. She looked up at Lewie, and he beamed at her, showing her his own identical tattoo.

“Her name’s Chip,” he chuckled. “And we pick her up tomorrow.”

Katie squealed, leaping from the chair and throwing her arms around his neck, as Bec screamed with excitement and captured the whole thing on video. Oliver laughed loudly, and Caden groaned his approval, rolling his eyes a little at the gesture.

Lewie kissed her cheek, holding her tightly.

“Two dogs down—“

“Three to go,” she responded. She leaned back, looking up into the sparkling blue eyes she so fucking adored. “I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back. “Happy Anniversary, babe.”

[sysba]

untitled twc drabble

this has no title because the doc where i drafted it is just called "mommy issues" and it says all you need to know about it. told @night-triumphantt edith would say something to rebecca after that book 3 birthday flashback/convo so here it is, unfiltered unedited brainrot happy sunday i love siblings<3 i love hating rebecca<3

Edith’s eyes are fixed on the same spot even after Kiara leaves, a scowl so deep one would guess the door personally insulted her; in the busy aftermath of the mission no one seems to notice her troubled look, or the subtle shake of her shoulders as she folds her arms impossibly tight.

She swallows once. Then again. 

It’s been like this ever since she’s started working with Unit Bravo: she’s been biting her tongue, pushing down words that would’ve darted out of her before and hit their bullseye. Instead she’s been stuck with this acrid taste in her mouth, uncharacteristically docile as she ends unborn conversations and walks away before the hellos.

And that’s what her every instinct is telling her to do now, too. Say nothing, walk away. It’s the smart choice, the self-preserving one. But when it comes to her sister she can’t afford to do damage control.

“You don’t listen to her.” It’s out of her mouth before she can think twice of it, her tone clipped and decisive.

She hasn’t yelled, has not even raised her voice, but she feels like she might have. Everyone stops, sensing the shift in the air. 

Rebecca is frozen on the spot, looking right at Edith like she just threw ice water on her. Like she knew the accusation was directed at her.

Unit Bravo glances between them in confusion, but nobody speaks. Edith doesn’t even spare a quick look their way, all of her focus on Rebecca. She steels herself. 

Too late to go back now.

“You never listen to her.” She doesn’t have to say Kiara’s name to see Rebecca’s unyielding features soften, settling into hurt. “She told you she was hurt, and you made it about yourself.” 

Again. That last word hangs between them, unspoken and unforgiving.

Rebecca frowns. “That was not my intention.”

“It never is, no,” Edith sighs through her nose, shoulders falling a bit. 

Tiring, so tiring… She wants to do this for Kiara, stand up for her because she won’t, but it’s as if every cutting word she aims at Rebecca is shot back at her. 

She hugs herself tighter, the blood on her tongue feeling almost as sickening as her next words. “You remember organising a kids’ birthday party and feeling guilty about having to miss it. What I remember is a seven-year-old kid in a dress too big for her, trying not cry in front of all of her friends after you left. Even saved you a slice of cake that she knew was gonna get thrown away. She was staring up at me with those giant weepy eyes and I couldn’t do shit about it.”

“Edith…” Rebecca’s tone is soft, regretful, and it’s but a water drop on a pyre. “That wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“Then why’d you leave me to pick up your slack, huh?” Edith snaps, then reins herself in when she notices the way Nate is looking at her. “Whatever, that’s not what I–” Her jaw clenches briefly as she looks away. 

That’s not what she wants to talk about, it doesn’t matter. She’s glad Kiara isn’t here right now, lest she think she resents her. Truth is, taking care of her sister was never something Edith did just because there was no one else. It was a choice, one that she hasn’t stopped making (because having to choose, she would always choose Kiara). 

But telling Rebecca where she went wrong as a mother somewhat means reminding her she has two kids, something Edith is not all too keen on doing. It’s the same as throwing a grenade and then stand there, waiting for the shrapnel to tear into you. 

Right now I’d pick the fucking grenade. 

Edith’s lips purse as she meets Rebecca’s gaze again. “Two days later, at school, one of Kiara’s classmates made fun of her. Said ‘not even her mom cared about her birthday.’ I threw my lunch at him during break and got sent to the principal, so they called you. You didn’t show up there either,” she adds the last part with a smirk so venomous Rebecca almost recoils.

It’s true, though. Rebecca was too busy at work that day, so she had sent a sitter instead. And then grounded Edith for “using her hands and not her words”... as if a cold cheeseburger hurled at your head would hurt as bad as a punch.

Rebecca fidgets on the spot, the few wrinkles on her face more evident as her brow furrows in guilt. Edith can sense the apology before it comes.

“I am–”

“Don’t.” She doesn’t need any of this from her mother, doesn’t need her to be sorry. It’s too late for the two of them, anyway. 

But maybe there’s something they can both fix. 

“That’s not why I’m telling you. You get that, right?”

Edith’s gaze pierces through Rebecca, who faces it bravely this time. Eventually she nods, lips pursed and poise stiff. 

“I’ll do better. I want to be better… for her.”

Edith smiles at that. It’s bittersweet, and not all that trustful, but it’s there. 

Maybe there is something the two of them have in common, after all.

[peoplcshope]

ALSO get you a homie that can turn your discord convos into drabbles. With some IC lore attached XD

[saetoru]

oh, to be called someone's number one mistake (complimentary) with a kissy-face emoji ♡. your parents' dynamic already sounds so cute just by looking at one text convo :')

they’re so funny omg on their first night of their honeymoon they went to an ice cream shop and my dad ordered off the menu from a picture which was a banana split but he didn’t realize that and my mom was like mm that looks like a banana and he’s like “nah it’s not” and got it and then he took one bite and almost gagged and my mom was like 💀 it’s a banana isn’t it 💀 and they’d already left the shop by then so then they had to share my moms ice cream

ANYWAY fast forward like 3 years, they go back to that same shop but this time i’m like two, and they’re like omggg we’ll get ice cream at the place we went to during our honeymoon with our daughter this time and my dad AGAIN orders based off the picture 💀 and my moms like i think that’s the same thing—and he’s like nope !! it’s not !! and gets it again and surprise—it’s a banana split again and my mom is like 💀 when he realizes. and so for old times sake, even tho they were still at the shop, they just left and shared my moms ice cream again and yeah

i actually wrote an atsumu drabble based on this it’s my fav story ever

[inseparableduo]

“I hate how loud you’ve been chewing lately. It’s like you gained this new passion to not shut your mouth, and it’s annoying.”

“Oh yeah, this is totally a new passion of mine.” Andrew then rolls his eyes and shoves more chips into his mouth. This time being obnoxious and trying to be loud while he eats. 

“Ugh. Gross, cut it out. You’re being so annoying, I’m going to leave.”

*keeps chewing*

*slaps the chips out of his hand* “Cut it out.”

“Never fucking do that shit again.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

“I’m going to fucking knock your teeth into the back of your throat.”

Instead of being intimated by this, Darla just burst into laughter. Breaking the tensions and causing her twin to laugh with her.

[vixlenxe]

“If you’re a servant to the Successors like you claim to be, why have you not knelt down to me yet?”

“I only serve the true Successors, not you blistering fabrications that only sully their names.”

“Really? Care to tell me then where these ‘True Successors’ are then? After all, without them, then you have no proof to tell me that I can not be the one & true Ribcage.”

Yellow eyes narrow at the Azure Witch, because she is right. She had not found one of the true successors... yet. But he is not giving up, nor telling her that. “As if I’d tell you such information, regardless of the yay or nay.”

“Ah, how sad you are. Mindlessly running around like a lost bloodhound, searching for a scent that does not exist. You should just accept what’s before you, I am the Successor of the Ribcage now, & I could make you into so much more then what you currently are. But no, you choose to remain the sad little man, the sad little bloodhound you are. Pathetic. Truly Pathetic.”

An animalistic growl manifests under the seeker’s tongue. How dare this lowly witch try to claim that title & taint it so. He knows she’s a fraud, an incomplete & vile copy of something more powerful & more kind then this. And it takes every ounce of strength he has to not rip her to pieces.

[stolen-godhood]

[Behold, Katsu in the Jack-O Pose(tm). True to form, he is in fact flopped right over, chest to the floor. He doesn’t even really look uncomfortable... even as Ganimarde is in the process of climbing on his back. He’s resting arms folded, chin on top of them, Very Smug.]

[justlookatthosesausages]

How about this for a prompt: Kai and Gerda meet Honeymaren for the first time Or just Honeymaren visits Arendelle castle

(This actually is more inspiring than it looks - gonna slide in words profusion lol here we goooo!)

=======

“And… This is the portraits room.”

Honeymaren couldn’t believe her eyes, and stared all around with a dropped jaw and an awe smile.

Gerda saw her emotion and discreetly cleared her throat. “You don’t have portraits in the Northuldra culture?” She asked politely.

She found the brunette’s reaction surprising, but also was curious about her people’s lifestyle. She never traveled to the forest - Anna had insisted many times for her to come along, noticing her interest, but Gerda kept saying she preferred to wait for her retirement.

Honeymaren looked at the walls while she answered. “Oh, we draw portraits of people as well. Only, they’re way less fancy. Without those golden frames, that’s for sure. Ours are sketches, often drawn with charcoal. Ryder’s good at it. He learned from Yelana.”

“I see.” Smiled Gerda.

She suddenly gasped.

“Oh, Your Majesty! I hadn’t seen you!!” She exclaimed, rushing to bow to Anna, whose head had just popped from the couch a few meters away.

“Waow, I didn’t see you either.” Said Honeymaren.

“It’s okay.” Chuckled Anna, sitting up. “I was just laying down meditating. And also listening to what you were saying.”

“Do you come in this room often?” Asked the Northuldra, who, despite its beauty, started to find it oppressing with all those painted eyes staring.

“You have no idea.” Said Anna and Gerda at the same time.

The two giggled, and Honeymaren was happy to see how close they were. It’s just like Kai had said: they know each other since Anna’s birth.

“Where’s Elsa? She’s not with you?”

Honeymaren smiled. “As if I would come without her.”

Anna had a sigh. The brunette perceived some relief in it, just like her previous questions were filled with disappointment and worry.

“She’s in the big room.” Continued Honeymaren.

“The Great Hall.” Corrected Gerda gently.

“Oh, yes, sorry.”

“‘The big room’ was understandable enough, don’t worry.” Smiled Anna, who was close to consider re-naming it that way. 

Now that she was Queen, she allowed herself quirky decisions that Elsa would never have dared to do. But this one maybe was a bit meh.

“She’s chatting with Kristoff. When Gerda started to make me visit the rooms, I think they were talking about… Ice density?”

Anna chuckled. “They talk about ice ninety percent of the time, I’m not surprised.”

Honeymaren smiled. “Has Elsa talked to you about the ice decorations for the wedding yet? I couldn’t make her stop talking about it for a week straight.”

“Of course she did”, snorted the redhead. “She even put drawings with all the details in her letters. My desk is covered with them. When I told Kristoff that our wedding would have an ice table, he practically sobbed of happiness.”

They both laughed, and even Gerda couldn’t hide a smile.

“Have you finished your tour yet?”

“There’s only the armors corridor left.” Informed the servant.

Anna bit her lip. “Oh, there’s no need to show her this part. I mean… It’s not really that much of a… Big deal, and…”

“What have you done this time?” Asked Gerda, knowing that tone very well and holding a sigh.

The Queen cleared her throat. “I, uh, I may have made one or two armors fall on the floor this morning.”

Gerda put her hands on her hips.

“How many time did we t- advised you to not slide down the stairs ramp??”

“I was late for my meeting!” Groaned Anna, reproaching that fault to herself but also pouting like she was genuinely scolded.

Honeymaren simply stared at them, not understanding a single part of their conversation.

“I’ll take care of it.” Said Gerda, and she sighed on her way to the door, hoping it would not be heard.

It was heard, but Anna wasn’t angry. The servant was right, and the Queen took the mental note to slide slower next time.

“So, royal portraits, uh?” Asked Honeymaren.

“Yep”, smiled Anna with pride. “Oh, come see over there. Elsa’s coronation portrait is awesome.”

“It’s in this room? I’m surprised it’s not elsewhere in the castle. I mean, with Elsa’s sense of extra… You know her more than me.”

Anna cackled. “I agree, but no, she’s not extra for that. Also, we decided to put ours here, we prefer to have family portraits in the corridors. Oh, did you pass by the one with our parents?”

“Where you’re super young? Yesss, Elsa is so cute on this one!”

The redhead laughed with a nod. Honeymaren continued.

“I like that you put it next to the more recent portrait of you with Olaf and Kristoff, and, oh Spirits I don’t even know how you did it but... You managed to put Sven in there too. Reindeers aren’t very patient for human stuff.”

“He actually was the one who stayed the more still for the whole painting process. It took days to do the portrait, and he was always in advance at the appointments. Kristoff kept moving because he didn’t know what pose to take, Olaf kept joking around, I obviously kept coming in late, and Elsa was so nervous the whole time I thought she was about to explode. First time in a long while we make a family portrait, you know…”

The brunette nodded. Elsa’s emotional stress was a known fact.

“Hey, do you wanna eat?” Suggested Anna. “We received tons of samples from cooks for the wedding’s buffet, and goodness they’re just insanely tasty.”

“Okay.” Chuckled Honeymaren.

As they walked out, they bumped on a smiling Elsa.

“There you are! I knew that if you weren’t in your room, it only meant that you were there.”

“Good deduction.” Chuckled Anna, approaching to hug her.

“I missed you, like always.” Sighed Elsa on her shoulder.

“You’re gonna stay for days for the party and all, and it’s gonna be loud and I’m gonna be loud, so you’ll probably change your mind afterwards…” Joked Anna.

“Never.” Chuckled the blonde.

They parted the hug, and the younger had a teasing look. “Wait, you went to talk with Kristoff first and foremost when you arrived. That’s a bit rude.”

“I had to tell him about the ice sculptures! I’ve been thinking of an ice swan. Or maybe an ice lion. Both would be great. Did you know that–”

“Here she goes again.” Smiled Honeymaren with a sigh.

Anna turned to her. “Yep.”

“Are you listening?” Frowned Elsa, who didn’t stop talking despite their exchange.

“Not at all”, admitted Anna. “You’re very talkative about it, uh? Look, I prefer to keep the surprise, okay? Don’t tell me what you’re going to create.”

“Not even the ice pillars?”

“No, not even– Hey, stop, I really don’t want to know anything.”

“You’re only saying that so I stop talking.”

“That’s half true.”

“What?”

Honeymaren cleared her throat. “Speaking of surprises, Anna, how is the wedding dress going?”

The redhead beamed, stars in her eyes. “It’s done. And gorgeous. Well, it’s only missing one final thing…”

The Sami winked. “I brought what you asked for. We sewed it for the special occasion.”

She opened her satchel and took out a Northuldra belt, brown and orange, with traditional motives.

Anna let out a gasp, and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s…”

“Gorgeous?” Guessed Honeymaren.

“And it will perfectly highlight the color of your hair.” Smiled Elsa.

[take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar]

{Chat Excerpt Meme}

@meretrixious​ sent: 🗯️ //this can be for like any combination of muses. Like even Mizuma~

{aaaaaa-- while i'd love to indulge banter for Mizuma, i actually find it kinda hard to do dialog for muses i don't write myself-- or write with someone else-- hence why i don't really include the other party in drabbles lol i can do a line here or there if the feel is good enough, but i've yet to really try a true back and forth-- setting aside my rambling tho, i can give a little something between my two currently active boys-- guest below: @marionnettiste-de-la-mort​}

"You know... It does get a bit tiring to have you pining so much, and showing such thirst so often..." the vampire mused, fist resting against his cheek.

"Ah? And I don't remember asking for your opinion. So cram it." the blonde huffed, brow furrowed with a sour expression.

"Oh~?... Might I have hit a nerve~?..." Cyril returned, amusement trickling into his tone.

"I said shut it! Now fuck off--" Minato spat in return, anger now more evident on his face as he'd flipped the other off.

Cyril, meanwhile, simply chuckled a bit in return. Content to have ruffled the other man's feathers a bit as he turned to leave with a small wave.

{and... perhaps not quite a chat excerpt, but-- ya know what? have a bonus for Mizuma content below the cut--}

"Hm? So you’ll have time enough today to come over for dinner?” Posing the question with a curious, if somewhat hopeful tone, a pleased hum then rolled through him with the confirmation given in return. “Great~, anything in particular you want?” Another question, before he began listing off a few things that had been picked up recently, or the option of eating out and saving them both some effort. However... The blonde paused shortly after, a bit of heat rising to his face as his expression scrunched up some.

“Don’t go trying to flirt over the phone, idiot!” Despite the slight shout, he wasn’t really all that angry, a bit flustered, sure. But not much else. “You shouldn’t be trying to tease me if you aren’t here to back it up...” Minato huffed a little, lightly shaking his head to brush away the lingering warmth on his cheeks. “Hahh... Just get over here soon, alright? Then we’ll sort out what’s on the menu aside from dinner...” Trying to get the last jab in if he could snag it, he was rather satisfied with the noise he got in return, and the added bit of chatter that came before ending the call.