#kthx reader

[maesterchill]

tea is served

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Slander' (225 words)

‘And then there was that time during potty training when he waddled off to the hydrangea bushes and dropped his tiny trousers. Sadly unaware of the very inquisitive peacock lurking behind him. He ran screeching through the manor and complained of a “sore botty” for weeks.’

“Oh my god,” Harry laughed.

‘Don’t forget the massive crush he had on the Minister for Magic.’

“Fudge?!”

‘Oh yes. Obsessed. He kept so many election flyers and clippings under his pillow that there was a permanent imprint of Cornelius’ face on the satin.’

“Amazing.”

‘That was, of course, until he started at Hogwarts. The house-elves were under strict instructions not to disturb the Witch Weekly shrine. Or his Boy-Who-Lived figurine collection.’

“I'm sorry, his what?”

‘You heard me. Breakfast cereal toys. All. Seven. Limited. Editions.’

"No way. I can't—"

‘Septimus, tell him about when Draco spent an entire weekend begging Mummy dearest to help him sew some costumes to impress a boy at school—’

The parlour door burst open. It was Draco—clearly finished in the little boys' room, though he looked far more panicked than freshened up.

“Lies! Scurrilous lies! Harry, you must know these buffoons are just portraits and don’t have real memories.”

Harry lifted his teacup, and then a single eyebrow. “Mm hmm.” He took a sip. “Just please tell me you kept the Fudge pillowcase.”

[sentientsheepdog]

Mermay!!! Haunted by OrcaMerpod KorTac keeping a selkie as a pet.

(König/ Horangi/Nikto/Krüger) Warning: Nature typical brutality

Almost beached themselves getting your pelt when you tried to flee onto land after being chased around the coastal kelp forest one too many times. It's much more fun playing ball with your pelt over your head while you try to reach far enough out of the water to get it back. Obviously, you have to tackle one of them when they catch it to have any hope of getting it back, but who?

The smallest is covered in rake marks like tiger stripes and chases you around the most - fucker is fast and persistent, likes seeing you riled up. Even if you get hands on your pelt, you have no chance of escape. The only reason he kept letting you get away is the pod leader telling him to and that luck dried up.

The literally big boss of the group with his vertical cheek stripes that remind you of teartracks. He's careful and reigns his pod in before you get injured in their play. He could just hold it out of reach so you'd have to push him down for a sure shot, grab the pelt, and book it to the open waters.

The kelp shroud wearing sadist you have seen rip open a live great white just to eat the liver. Has threatened to skin you to get your pelt - seemed very disappointed when you told him that would just kill you. Immediate no. Pelt grab zone is in teeth range, and he looks starved for selkie.

The pitch black one you can't quite read. Toys with you like the others, but you've noticed the dark shadow hovering nearby whenever you cosy up on the sea bed to sleep. More than once, you've woken up in his shadow. He seems the safest bet, decent odds of that being a trap, though.

Decisions Decisions

[nerevarswritingstuff]

How tall are the monkeys bois in ur fic 👀?

OH GOD I DON'T KNOW THE EXACT NUMBER UOIVBHERUOV

I just know Wukong is taller than both Nibby and Macaque

And Nibby is the shortest

Hold on hold on Cuddles drew a line-up of them lemme grab it

[adelineiserman]

My beta reader is being nosy.

"I'm just gonna take a peek at what you've got in this here mug while I wait, kthx."

[estrogenandspite]

 Part of me is seriously tempted to learn how to mod games entirely so I can mod games where I play as a dwarf into basically any other fantasy species.

I don't like fantasy dwarves in most media. So often they're an antisemitic caricature wrapped in a Scottish/Irish caricature who are almost always culturally conservative *and* I can't even get comfortable playing one gender-wise because they almost always only have male models with beards. 

And I don't think this is deliberate on the part of people who make these games! But the modern fantasy dwarf is greedy and bearded with a large nose and talks in some flavor of vaguely Scottish accent (with some mixed in Welsh/Irish accent) while being a burly drunk and is hairy, and it just...ruins it for me. (I don't like how Elves and Orcs are usually handled either, but you less often see games where your only option is to play as an Elf or an Orc so it comes up less.)

So when I see a game that looks exactly up my alley, except the premise is "You are a dwarf who" etc etc (Current example is Orebound, which looks like everything I love but you play as a dwarf) I get frustrated because I know what to expect.

I'm a fantasy author. I *get* that we have to walk a delicate balance. Readers/Gamers/Viewers *like* elves/dwarves/orcs, so using them is a good way to get people in the door. I just... well, the reason I started this post off with "I want to learn to mod so I can" is because I don't expect devs to cater things to my tastes. 

But...if you *are* making something with dwarves (or any other classic fantasy species) please at least do something interesting with them culture-wise so they're not just a grab bag of stereotypes. (Also give us an option to play women with or without beards kthx)

[dra-and-sdra2-hot-takes]

Harassing your best artists does not a good fandom make

disclaimer: i won't be naming the two artists who were harassed for obvious reasons, and i won't be naming any of the specific person(s) who did the harassment both because they* don't deserve credit and because i don't want to start a fight with them* but to give a lesson to both them* and people who stood idly by and let it happen.

these two artists are some of my favorite in the fandom. while they're both still somewhat active in the fandom, [artist A] has said they* feel disillusioned with the fandom based on its treatment of them* and, well, i can fucking see why! and while i haven't seen [artist B] comment on the harassment directly, i can imagine they* aren't enthused either.

i've had multiple people in this fandom tell me personally that people have come into their inboxes and told them to unfollow/block A and/or B because they're* "problematic" for reasons including but not limited to "drawing nsfw of the another cast" [as if they aren't fucking confirmed to be adults]

and, to top this layer cake of the disgusting treatment of these two artists, i have literally seen, and i am not the least bit joking here, someone's DNI including the line "if you support [artist A] or [artist B]... DNI, they're gross" the audacity. the fucking nerve. to put two random tumblr/social media users in their* shitty little '~do not interact~' list. two users who have done nothing wrong and whose only crime is drawing fiction

setting aside that harassment is.... you know.... always wrong, all the time. this is not how you build a good fandom. there are other good artists in the fandom. but A and B are my as well as many others' from what i've observed. they do a lot of good in this - and i cannot stress this enough - very small fandom.

if you do not like these artists (or any other artist), say it with me now, block and move on. add their usernames to your "filtered content" list if you absolutely musn't see them*. although the claim i've seen of their* mere mention being horrifically triggering for certain people is... odd, to say the least, and reeks of attempted ostracism, just like the backtalking they* recieved in random people's dms.

and of course it is not just these two artists experiencing bs like this in the fandom but their situation speaks to how such a toxic fandom like ours treats even our best and britest.

conclusion: stop harassing people. that's the bare minimum. perhaps don't mention people by name in your 'dni lists'. and realize building positive community is necessary for this and any other small fandom to thrive.

*they/them/theirs pronouns used exclusively to anonymize the people involved in this story because the identities of the people here is not the point. i'm not trying to use an incorrect pronoun for anyone involved here, just protect their identities.

p.s.: i don't control you, dear readers, but i can at least ask you please don't speculate about the identities of anyone i mentioned in the post. kthx

[ID: This blog has no DNI. Please be civil and respectful to everyone under my posts!]

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Poll for all the Lookalike fans

[blazingstaro]

Hey gang! DotS:MMM update!

I will preface: the comic is still live and shall continue at an irregular schedule until I can pull myself together and get back into the flow

Frankly I have not felt up to drawing and forcing myself into a grind. I need to pace myself and not feel like this is an obligation. I started feeling like I had to make pages to keep up the pace and not disappoint, but that started to really ebb at my enjoyment of making this comic

This is my hobby, and not my job. Nobody pays me to make these. I make this because I like it and want to tell a story. Something I have to constantly remind myself, despite the pressure of disappointing my readers with my inconsistency. These days I draw in bursts and end up losing my stamina because I become emotionally overwhelmed

My energy is still fickle. I'm bombarded with overwhelming negativity at home from various sources, including personal stress and depression caused by my current life situation. What I make to decompress shouldn't be a stresser either

I'll continue to chip away at finishing these pages for DotS:MMM Part One, but it will be at my own pace. I'll post again once I feel ready and satisfied enough with how many pages I have in hand. Deadlines stress me out and kill my motivation to draw. Again it makes me feel obligated to do this stuff, to make it instead of just being something I enjoy and have fun with

Also Orpheus decided to worm his way in, so now I have to rewrite some scripts to as well fix a tremendous continuity error that Orpheus has come in to correct. This man makes me rewrite everything, I swear omg

You'll see what I mean in later parts of DotS:MMM

Thank you guys as always for your patience! 💖

Additionally for you all, my Tumblr lovelies, I'll continue to answer asks! Might be able to squeeze in a sketch or two as I go, but goodness I have to constantly train myself to draw for fun and not treat it like work. Tumblr has been helping with that a lot

My previous following several years ago on dA used to pressure me into keeping up with my own content and would punish me with hateful comments if I didn't post art of their fave OC of mine often enough (yes my OWN oc, not a fan character), and UGHGHGH MAN. HEAVEN FORBID I posted a new design without some sort of specific ritual first, just up and dropped a new character like "hi hello this is bleebo blorbie my new baby blorbo kthx bye". They'd throw a fit over that too. Not everyone of course, but it was a lot of people

I was bullied by fans of my own original content 😭 you see why I do fan stuff these days

It wasn't even remotely done, didn't even have a comic or story; people lusted over my own designs. I felt like I had to finish a story that never wanted to be told just to make ends meet, to appease the unappeasable, and burnt myself out entirely on the series to where I had to scrap the whole thing.

Thankfully that's not the case anymore, with my current following being great and sweet, but on rare occasions a rare impatient reader will show themselves on dA specifically

I appreciate you guys being so chill and kind to me throughout this year 😭 Tumblr gang I've always loved y'all. I haven't felt at home on a site in so long

[peijizerojournal]

So I started reading your series with OC and I wanted to know what she looks like 👀👀 kthx

Sorry I’m getting back to you so late, anon! THANK YOU for asking this! 🫣🥹 And of course, thank you for reading my work 🤍

In a different ask, I mentioned how she became an OC over time, so while I left her pretty nondescript in the text itself, I do have a sort of vision in my mind of how she looks (but she is still as much a ‘reader’ character as she is an OC, just to clarify!!! However you see her is however you see her, as well 🩵)

- she is a long-legged girly! (Gotta represent us tall ladies lmao) Not as tall as her man, but near face-to-face with him

- Major Cleopatra vibes! Long black hair with blunt, kinda cropped bangs, dark eyes with intense eyeliner around them; even the robes I envision her wearing are always white, pale blue, indigo, etc. with gold embroidery or detailing (Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra is a MAJOR source of visual inspiration for me, tbh!)

- Bi-Han kinda has a timeless (?) face, like he’s from the ancient world, so while I can’t quite picture any of her defining features (besides large eyes & full lips), I imagine her also looking kind of timeless, as well. And with a more ambiguous, mystical look to her. I hope this paints a good picture for you! Thanks again for asking about this, anon. You made my day with this! 🥰 XO

(if I could draw….. it would be so over for me. The level of delulu would be out of control lol)

[akoiromanticstudent]

for sigma lovers only kthx

HI i am NOT dead as the python programming class hasn't killed me yet (despite trying) and i am in fact STILL HORNY for that OLD MAN [Sigma] [okay admittedly there is a new old man we now also horny for] [it's neuvillette 💧]

and i am in fact writing, for some reason, more drafts for Sigma/reader smut no i don't know how i keep making new ideas but the good news is that i've made a lot of progress on some really hot old ideas so we are COOKING 🔥

in the meantime i've forgotten to mention here that i've actually put up a few more drabbles under Resonance of our Melody and we're up to 4 now!

So make sure you're subscribed as I have SEVERAL more drabbles desperately cloying their way out of my drafts for this series

[ramblingandpie]

I am gonna add: please alt text your images I am so much more likely to reblog if there is alt text or at least an image description. I'll add image descriptions when I can but like... my hands absolutely suck at being hands, sooooo I might just skip reblogging if I'm not up for it. But even though I don't use a screen reader I want shit to be accessible.

This has been a PSA. Kthx.

You guys do know you're supposed to reblog things, right

[asteralpine]

Cashier at the thrift store today saw my grandma and me looking at the jewelry and told us she'd be happy to show us anything we wanted a closer look at. Then she mentioned there was a specific necklace she was battling with because she wanted it but she shouldn't buy it and she wanted someone to buy it so she'd stop thinking about it but she didn't want that to happen because she liked it so much!

So I asked to see it.

And then I asked to buy it.

And this DARLING didn't even so much as pretend to pout or anything. She just happily got it and showed it off and added it to our order.

And then as we were about to leave you KNOW I took it out of the bag and gave it to her!

Can you imagine being the kind of person who actually bought that kind of thing and took it with you??? "Oh you love this and it's causing you a struggle with yourself at work? Kthx, it's mine now and you must be the one to sell it to me." Reader, I felt evil for just the minute or two that she was ringing us up!!!

She was so sweet and thinking about this exchange is going to fuel me until the end of time.

[palpipeen]

Wolffe Thought (and Thot)

This isn’t nsfw until nearly the end so Minors DNI, 18+ readers only THANKS!

So this one goes out to all the bitches who carry all their stress in their back

(Me, I am bitches)

More under the cut~

Okay so can you imagine giving and then receiving a back massage from Wolffe? I definitely don’t think he’d be great at giving them unless shown how to but he catches on quick.

Like. Maybe it starts off with you running your hand along the back of his neck and feeling just how tense he is. Hard as duracrete under your fingertips, and when you comment on it he just huffs

Course he’s tense, he’s the commander of the 104th, he’s the leader of the Wolfpack. He’s only a little tense though! It’s nothing for you to worry about

Yeah, right

It would probably take some gentle hints dropped until he relents, or maybe after a particularly stressful mission. Yes he could use some help working out some of that tension. Ans maybe he has something else in mind but then you start by rubbing small circles in the base of his neck and

“Oh kriff”

It’s not until you feel some of the tension melting away from his neck that you tell him to take off his armor, and the top half of his blacks if he’s comfortable with it. This being Wolffe, I imagine he smirks the whole time he removes his kit, and then his upper blacks are being peeled off and hooo wow

You can’t wait to get your hands on him.

Neither can he, but then you tell him to lay face down on the bed/couch and he pisses and moans about it but he can’t deny what you did for his neck felt great. So he listens to you, and I imagine he’s got a smart comment or two about when you straddle his hips. You would too if you weren’t so flustered by being this close to his very muscular, probably scarred up back. It’s a map of the life he’s had - hard and unyielding.

Until you get your hands on him that is.

I don’t think he’d relax into it until you get to a particular kink in his back. He’s grunting and huffing and twitching until you get to it and then he tenses up. Wolffe stays tense until you really start to work that kink out, and it seems to spread out from there. He just goes limp from his back to his limbs, head rolling to the side and then —

He moans.

It’s quiet at first, involuntary, but it comes from deep in his chest and tapers off at the end in a sigh. Then he gets quiet because he realizes what he’s done, but you know how to get more out of him.

And you give him no mercy in your quest to leave the commander boneless and pliant under your touch, because it’s what he deserves. A thorough, kind and intimate exploration of his body, worshipping him with your palms and fingers and knuckles. The muscles of his back twitch and tense and relax under you, rippling under the deep tan of his skin

But you don’t stop at his back. Your clever fingers work down from his shoulders to his upper arms, forearms, wrists and hands. His fingers twitch under yours, clearly wanting something to hold onto - you - but he lets you work. 

Wolffe sighs and groans and shudders through all of it, lost in bliss. Right up until you return to his back, and drift lower, and lower - and then you stop. Just above the hem of his lower blacks.

He almost asks you why, but then your fingers run through his hair and he shivers as you drag your fingernails across his scalp. Wolffe has been rendered breathless, gasping into the pillow or cushion he’s holding onto when you lean forward, your lips just barely brushing his ear -

“How are you feeling, Commander?”

Eyes flying open, he stares at you, eyes heavy lidded and dreamy. Or as dreamy as Wolffe can look. “Perfect, cyar’ika,” he rasps.

And then gravity tips and you’re on your stomach, Wolffe straddling your upper thighs as he slides his hands along your sides. You squirm and he clicks his tongue, gently chastising you.

“Lie still,” he tells you. “If I can do it, you can for me. Right?” 

You nod enthusiastically, still shocked at the turn of events, and you let out a quiet whimper when he toys with the hem of your shirt. Asking silent permission and then helping you peel it off, everything until you’re bare from the waist up. And his whole body had been warm between your thighs, but his hands feel like they leave trails of fire in their wake as he drags the calloused pads of his thumbs up the dips and bumps of your spine. Pressing into every tense muscle he feels, mapping them out  for when he really gets started. Wolffe guides your body to where he wants it, then leans down, his hand curled around the back of your neck. Teeth scraping the shell of your ear, he grinds into your ass, and your eyes fly open when you feel him.

“Oh, so now you noticed?” He taunts you, grinding his hard, throbbing cock against you again. When you whine he chuckles, low in the back of his throat. “Did you think I couldn’t feel what you wanted? Well, if you’re gonna be a tease, you’re just going to have to suffer until I decide your good and relaxed.

“Get comfortable, baby.”

[kikis-writing-world]

Insecure

Summary: Frankie finds out the source of your insecurities.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Not a true “blank canvas” reader insert. I gave reader some qualities and describe their family.

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating/Warnings: Verbally/Emotionally abusive parents, mentions of previous drug use, Frankie is the sweetest man in the world and we must protect him at all costs. Hurt/comfort vibes with plenty of fluff. Unbeta’d, unedited, etc. Third Person, but follows Frankie. Also a warning that I'm not a fluent Spanish speaker, this is just shit I picked up so call me on it if I'm stupid and out of my leave kthx lol

A/N: This is only “late” if you remember I’m Canadian... so don’t do that lol

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Frankie was no stranger to insecurity. He’d felt it as a kid when his dreams of becoming a baseball player were squashed by the fact that he could never quite hit the ball. As a teenager when he hit a sudden growth spurt that had him constantly stubbing his toes, his limbs too long and lanky for him to control. When his metabolism crashed in his late 20’s, leaving him with the small pouch of tummy fat that he couldn’t seem to get rid of no matter what diet or workout routine he stuck to. When his mental health crashed, leading him to drugs as a coping mechanism. When those same drugs turned his whole world upside down, making him lose his job and his family. Yeah, Frankie knew insecurity like an old friend. He hated that you seemed to know it just as well.

The first time he’d met you he was bewitched. The bar was crowded, a high profile MMA fight showing on PPV. He had been dragged out with The Millers. You had been dragged out on a date. The rowdy crowd had the two of you pushed up next to each other, waiting your turn to order from the bartender. When you got shoved into his chest by a celebrating muscle-head, he put an arm protectively around you and braced it against the bar, shielding you from the pushing and shoving of the crowd. You didn’t need to tell him the date wasn’t going well - he could see it in the way that the man didn’t seem to pay any mind to the fact that you left the table for a new round and ended up chatting with Frankie for the rest of the night. You left with the man once the PPV was over, but Frankie left with your number.

The more he got to know you, the further he fell under your spell. You were kind and funny. Your smile - not the tight lipped, shy grin you often offered but your true smile - was blinding in the most radiant way. Frankie knew he’d do just about anything to see that full, toothy smile more. You were beautiful. Radiant. Infallible.

As he stumbled over his own words, asking you to be his and only his, he saw the first spark of the insecurity you battled with. Your eyes shifted away from him, shy grin forced onto your face as you laughed it off.

“You don’t want me like that, Frankie.” You chuckled wrly, trying to dodge the moment as you came up with excuses as to why.

The burn of nerves in his chest, stoked from building himself up to broach the topic with you, was replaced by a burn of hurt - not at you, but for you. He hurt for you, knowing someone along the path of your life had made you feel unwantable. Someone had told you, either through their words or actions, that you weren’t worth it.

He did his best to prove you wrong. First, by countering every excuse you could come up with. Then with whispered words of worship against your sweat slicked skin. Finally, with a promise to spend the rest of your time together showing you just how much he wanted you - and by extension, proving wrong whoever had placed these doubts in your mind.

Frankie cursed himself when he figured it all out. When the pieces fell into place, the image of the puzzle staring back at him, he didn’t understand how he couldn’t see it sooner. For someone who spent years of his life training himself to spot danger before it could hit, this proverbial bomb knocked him right out of the sky.

The two of you had been together for just over three years when you invited him to your family’s Thanksgiving Dinner. It didn’t seem like a warning. You had spoken about your family - your two siblings and their own marriages and families, your parents and their empty-nesting. He’d met your sister and her husband several times, your brother and his wife living a few states over. He didn’t see how the family dinner could go wrong.

Small talk had been had, thanks had been given, and the meal was half eaten. Polite conversation passed between the adults at the table between mouthfuls of turkey and potatoes. The chatter of the children at the kids table - aka the living room - wafted into the more formal dining room setting. No one seemed to mind if the kids got a little loud, a little rowdy with holiday cheer, as long as no one started crying or fighting. As a parent, the happy noises of the kids joking and laughing made him smile.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t bring Libby,” he told your sister as he scooped another helping of peas onto his plate. “Her mom has her for Thanksgiving this year.”

Your sister nodded from across the table, waiting until her mouth was empty before asking “do you guys have her for Christmas then?”

Frankie nodded in return, explaining that he and his ex switch holidays every year.

“How old is she?” Your mother asked, joining the conversation.

Maybe if he hadn’t been busy loading his plate with seconds he would have noticed the change. If his seat was pushed a little to the left, so his arm was touching yours or your thighs rested together under the table, he would have noticed the way you tensed up. Maybe if your oldest nephew hadn’t just told a joke that had the younger kids roaring in laughter, he would have noticed how quiet you’d gotten.

“She’s 6.” He answered proudly, his Papa Bear instincts to show off his daughter shining happily.

“Oh, same age as Taylor.” Your sister-in-law added, mentioning her eldest son.

Frankie hummed affirmatively through his mouthful of carrots.

“Oh, sweet age.” Your sister sighed. “I miss that age.”

“Don’t start,” her husband groaned with a grin. “We’re done. No more.”

“I know, I know.” She laughed, patting him on the knee. “Just living vicariously.”

Frankie happily gushed about his daughter, explaining that she wants to be an astronaut or a panda when she grows up. He didn’t notice the look your mother gave you across the table the whole while.

Frankie left the den with a grin, leaving the kids to play without him. He couldn’t resist when Ella, your youngest niece, had tugged on his shirt and asked him to be on her team as she handed him a nerf gun. It was hardly fair, a former Delta Force soldier against a group of kids under 12, but it also wasn’t very fair that the oldest two had decided the teams would be decided by age. Frankie and the under-6s easily pelted the elders with foam darts until there was the bright idea to turn on the lone adult. He feigned being outmatched, letting them chase him from the room.

He made his way to the kitchen, eyes still creased with laughter, when he heard you and your mom talking as you helped with the dishes from supper.

“-playing house with him, breaking up their family.”

“They were separated before I met him, mom. It’s not like I broke them up.” Your voice was flat, dull. There was no fight to your voice, like you’d already given up winning this battle.

“No, but you’re content slipping yourself into their life, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer, the sound of sloshing dishwater filling the silence.

“That’s just like you, you know. You couldn’t find a man to have your own family, so you go out and find one that’s already made for you.”

Frankie stopped in his tracks, just outside of the kitchen. It felt like he’d just been slapped, and he wasn’t even the one who the comment was directed at. Surely he’d heard that wrong.

“Just like you to take the easy way out.” Your mother scoffed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me any real grandkids either, you’re far too old for that now. It’s probably for the better. You won’t be left a single mother once this fling is over.”

Frankie’s vision flashed red. Three seconds of anger before his training kicked in. A split second allocated to his own personal outrage as your mother made her opinion of him clear. A longer fraction of time spent offended on behalf of the woman he loved, that anyone would speak to her that way. Just before his mind cleared, the last bit of those seconds, he realized who had drilled insecurity into your mind, into your soul. The insecurities he had had spent the past three years chipping away at, had been put in place by your own mother. It made sense how it ran so deep.

Whoever was going to speak next, it was cut off as his heavy footsteps entered the room. Your backs were turned to him - your mother washing diligently as you leaned against the counter, both hands braced against the edge as your head hung between your shoulders. Your mother turned, smiling at him like she hadn’t just been talking about him at all.

“Frankie, did you show them how it’s done?” She quipped, knowing he had been dragged into the nerf battle.

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t know how to without saying something he may really regret. As incensed as he was, he recognized this was still your mother. The mission wasn’t to respond, the mission was to evacuate. Instead, his hand found your lower back. His frown deepened at feeling how tense you were.

“Querida, Lana just called.” He lied easily. “Elizabeth came down with something.”

You turned at that, your red rimmed, watery eyes widening in concern. “Is she okay?”

Frankie nodded, cursing the plan now that he has you worried. “She’ll be okay, but she’s asking for us.” He told her, hoping your mother would pick up that he wasn’t saying his daughter wanted just him, but the two of you. “I told her we’d head over to see her when we were done here.”

You nodded quickly, drying your hands on the thighs of your jeans. “Let’s go.”

Your mother tried to stop you, your name tumbling out of her mouth as she tried to convince you to stay, but Frankie cut her off before she could get too far.

“Sorry Ma’am, but our daughter needs us.” Frankie told her, eyes burning with everything he wanted to say. He kept his dark gaze on the woman at the sink as he left the room, leading you through the house towards the front foyer.

You pushed your boots on, not bothering with the laces. “Did Lana say what’s wrong? Is she okay? Does she need us to bring anything for her?” You asked, your own pain pushed aside as you worried.

“Shh, she’s fine.” He whispered into your ear as he helped you slide on your coat.

“What?” You asked, spinning to look at him. “Frankie, what’s-”

“C’mon.” He cut you off, holding his own jacket in his hand as he opened the front door, ushering you into the cold.

The two of you rushed to the truck parked on the street, eager to get out of the chilled air. Frankie trailed behind you, replacing his hand on your lower back once he’d had a chance to shrug on his own jacket.

“Is Libby sick or not?” You asked the second the two of you were enclosed in the cabin of his truck.

Frankie turned the engine over and made sure the heat was on before answering. “She’s fine. Lana didn’t call.”

“Then what-”

“I heard what your mother said.”

He watched as your breath caught in your throat, clearly not knowing he had overheard. Your eyes drifted away from him, avoiding eye contact as you stared instead at the frosted windshield.

“You know that’s all bullshit, right?” He huffed, doing his best to keep the anger at your mother out of his voice. He didn’t need you to think the anger was channeled at you.

“I guess.” You sighed with a defeated shrug.

“Hey,” he called, reaching his hand out for yours. You let him take your smaller hand in his, but you still didn’t look at him. “Look at me, querida. Please.” He asked, voice barely audible over the hissing heating vents.

You did as he asked, slowly bringing your eyes back to meet his. Even in the dim light of the amber street lights illuminating the cab, he could see the tears sitting heavy along your lash line.

“I love you.” He spoke slowly, carefully, making sure you heard him. “I don’t know what makes your mother think-”

“It’s just how she is,” you brushed him off, once again turning away. He released your hand to catch your chin gently, turning you back to him.

“That’s no excuse for how she treated you.” He huffed before reigning his emotions back in with a deep breath. “She thinks you did an easy thing by opening your life up to me? She has no idea of the dark shit in my past and what you had to do to look past all that. And to love my daughter just as much as you love me? What the fuck about any of that is easy?”

You blinked up at him, a tear finally beading past your lashes to roll down your cheek. “It’s not that hard loving you. Or Elizabeth.” You whispered back shakily.

Frankie chuckled, his cheek raising in a grin as he caressed his cheek with his calloused thumb. “That’s very sweet of you, querida, but we both know I have a heavy past. I’ve done… unspeakable things-”

“For your country.” You argued.

“And not.” He reminded you, his eyes darkening as he thought about Columbia. You bit your tongue with a curt nod, knowing what he was referring to.

“Please don’t listen to her.” He begged quietly.

Your lip trembled as you wiped at your eyes, preventing more tears from falling. “Her voice has been in my head all my life, Frankie.” You admit, sadly.

Frankie gently urged you forward, pulling you into a light kiss. His soft lips were plush against your own, a contrast to the way his moustache tickled your nose. He felt you relax just a little into the kiss, making him feel glad that he could comfort you this way.

He pulled away, still mindful that the two of you were sitting in his (still chilly) truck parked on the street outside your parents house. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, spreading his large, warm hand over the base of your neck as he tried to soothe the tension from the muscles there. You shifted closer to him, scooting across the bench seat so that you could curl into his broad chest.

“I guess I better start work on replacing it then, huh sweet girl?” He hummed. He could tell you start blushing by the way you hid your face against him. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Aw, bonita, don’t hide that pretty face. Que linda.” He teased, tickling his fingers along your neck.

You giggled, squirming against his side as you tried to protect yourself. “Frankie, stop.”

Frankie stopped abruptly, removing his hand from your skin. “You’re right, I should stop.” He sighed dramatically.

He could tell you were surprised by the way you looked up at him, eyes wide and confused - but the sorrow seemingly gone.

“The sooner I get you home, the sooner I can show you just how amazing I think you are.” He grinned.

You didn’t hide your blush this time, snuggling into his side as you pulled the middle seat’s tiny seatbelt across your lap. Frankie threw the truck into gear while you were distracted before resting his arm over your shoulders.

Despite the want to get you home, he took a longer route to see houses in the area that already had their Christmas displays up. He bit back his usual argument of it’s only Thanksgiving, pointing out the displays to you instead. He knew he made the right choice as he watched each inflatable and little bulb wipe the sadness off your face. He also knew that he’d be happy spending the rest of his life proving that voice in your head, your mother’s voice, wrong.

Taglist: @vonschweetz @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa  @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl​

[aellynera]

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is. 

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

[feral-creep]

👁👁bigender toga???? bigender toga??????? i am deeply intrigued and wish to know more. i headcanon toga as “gender?? yeah sure ill take all of them” and anytime i see nonbinary or non-cis toga content i get so excited

- eira

EIRA

oh how i have missed your comments!

but YES that's basically the vibe—writing has gone excruciatingly slowly recently b/c Life Stuff BUT i'm steadily chipping away at a few WIPs:

the concept is college roommate!toga v much enjoys squeeing over romcoms / dramas / boybands with reader, pays attention to what reader likes, and decides to become their Dream Boy for the day, just going full kabedon for the Blushing Experience

toga loves love, loves people in love, loves the concept of crushes and YES will take all the genders kthx. she's like a feral usagi tsukino, tbh