#anon I apologize for the very long delay in getting this out

[areiacannaid]

To the anon who requested some art of Will and Gilan being bros.

Bonus:

[thatlittlered]

would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

 How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comforter and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

next part

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

imagining a situation where for whatever reason you absolutely need to be sat on the ghoul’s lap (like, due to lack of space/seating or something) and he gets the sick idea to bounce his knee once after you’re sat on him for a bit. y’know, trying to make it seem unintentional/like a muscle jerk or something.

but fully knowing exactly what it may do to you, and wanting to see…he’s beyond thrilled when it immediately elicits an involuntary moan😏

Close Quarters

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,429

Warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, very sweaty fucking around, mild choking, slight dubcon if you squint.

Notes: Anon, you're just like me (I am also embarrassingly into knee and thigh riding)! Thank you for the excellent submission.

Apologies for the delay in getting this out! I'm so relieved to be back at home, finally, as I wasn't able to be as productive when traveling as I'd hoped. Please enjoy.

You were going to tear Cooper a new one the second the two of you got out of here.

It had been his idea, after all, to veer off the road in your latest trek to nose around this place, which hadn't seemed all that interesting to you. Your business partner had been quite unrelenting, as in all things, despite your inability to see anything of immediate value in the area; some hulking old rusty machinery you couldn't identify, train tracks partially buried in the sand. Boxes of blasting supplies, long emptied. It appeared to be an abandoned mining facility upon first glance, but was difficult to tell, as you had barely had a chance to actually look around before things had suddenly gotten crazy.

It was his fault the two of you were stuck here now.

The old man was absolutely insistent that he'd glimpsed a deathclaw (which you'd read had a special propensity towards mines and quarries, and had told him as much just the night before) just over the nearby hill; you hadn't been looking in the proper direction to confirm when he'd grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into this...storage closet? Frankly, you weren't even sure it was large enough to pass as that, more like a coat closet with a single wooden box on the floor. The two of you were crammed as physically close as possible without touching, mostly due to the great efforts you were taking to balance yourself against the wall as carefully as you could. It was incredibly claustrophobic.

It was also unbearably hot, but apparently only for you; as you cast another unamused glance at him, the third in maybe twice as many minutes, you couldn't help but notice how his only annoyance seemed to be boredom. His eyes lazily scanned back and forth between the small holes in the wall like he was watching out for mole rats. You, on the other hand, were convinced you were about five minutes away from sweating yourself to death, your knees aching worse than they did most nights after miles and miles of walking, the pain setting deep into your bones. It was making you squirmy, your thighs and quadriceps flexing and relaxing as you tried your best to hover above your companion's leg, his body crowded so close behind yours. You'd been traveling together for months now, and he was much more comfortable with you than he ever had been, but you still wanted to respect his space...

...a courtesy which he didn't always afford you.

Something about Cooper Howard that you hadn't been anticipating when you started to grow closer was just how much of a filthy tease the man was. Despite his rather rough exterior, the old cowboy could be very charming, a side of him you saw more and more as your travels went on, and, as a result, you'd developed quite the embarrassing little crush on him. An additional heat crept up the nape of your neck as you thought on it, adding to the untenable swelter around you.

Once you'd propositioned him for sex. Once! How were you supposed to know that people on the surface didn't generally approach their casual hook ups that way? He'd laughed until you thought he'd be sick, your face red as a Nuka Cola sign the entire time.

You thought that had been that, and it was all you'd needed to assume that he simply wasn't attracted to you in that way. It stung some, but whatever, life goes on. So you'd soldiered on, trying to keep your head low the next few days to avoid making him uncomfortable, desperate to not lose his companionship due to an awkward misunderstanding, but that's when the teasing began in earnest. He took very apparent glee in crowding you in, getting into your face or into your ear, murmuring in that soft tone that made you crazy and turned your cheeks pink, only to almost immediately pull away, his demeanor as if nothing had even happened.

Whether he did this because there was any real intent behind it or simply because he enjoyed embarrassing you and making you squirm, you hadn't the faintest idea. You chastised him when he did it, but ultimately you couldn't really conceal the way the attention from him still made your heart race and your panties damp. Heck, the way the ferals seemed to be able to pick up on your scent from a mile out, you wouldn't be shocked to learn he could smell when you were aroused. Just another small humiliation to throw on the pile.

The damn space was already small in total dimension, made even worse by the fact that a shelf up top cut off a lot of the total height, forcing Cooper to stoop and bend awkwardly, the desire to stay silent keeping him hunched over you for several minutes before he slowly, slowly slid down onto the box, eventually reclining somewhat, bending his neck to and fro to peek out the various rust spots and bullet holes in the metallic siding. Your Pip-Boy didn't register any nearby movement, but that didn't always inspire confidence in situations like this.

This whole thing was miserable, but being torn limb from limb by a deathclaw would be worse, so you continued your infinite wall-lean, trying hard to remain silent as you wiped the sweat from your brow for the millionth time. Behind you, he seemed to relax a little further, his knee sliding slightly along the inside of your thigh. A shiver broke up your spine.

Eventually, your trembling, aching legs fully gave out, forcing you to allow your full weight to straddle the knee that was poking out from between your knees, pressing down directly at the apex your thighs. You tried your best to rest towards one foot or the other to keep your weight off of his thigh, but his hands quickly found your hips and stilled your movement.

The pressure from sitting this way had already begun to make your slit swell, increasing in sensitivity as the time continued to pass, but it was ignorable. Then, slowly but surely, and to your absolute horror, Cooper's leg began to jiggle, the slight movement rocking you back and forth ever so slightly until your clit began to ache. Now, you'd never seen him fidget before, but you'd also never seen the man have to cram himself into a shoe box, so you gave him some mild benefit of the doubt.

But the jiggling quickly became a problem, the heat between your legs rapidly equaling the heat in the room, leaving you breathing with noticeable volume. You buried your face into your chest as best as you could to try and hide the sound of your labored huffing, but the man behind you was quick to let you know that you were failing.

"Keep it quiet, kid." he chastised you in a hushed voice, but his hands stayed glued to your hips, balancing you right back onto his thigh, shifting your weight right to where you were trying to avoid placing it. You cleared your throat as another wave of heat swam through your gut, your companion continuing to move his leg up and down as the wind and sand hissed against the walls. Increasingly, you were nervous to look at him, afraid he would call you out for deriving some sort of sick pleasure from his innocent movements, accuse you of endangering both of your lives for some fleeting sexual gratification.

However, that moment never came, only more rocking and more huffing. Eventually, you began to slip further down towards his knee, struggling to fully support your weight any longer. His thigh jerked upwards, bouncing you several inches backwards and pressing hard into your swollen bud, drawing out a high pitched yelp that made you sound like a wounded animal. If you didn't know better, you'd have thought you felt him grin against the sweaty back of your neck.

"Hush." he said, tone thinner this time, but his hands began busily working your body as he slid you up and down. Two fingers worked their way into one of your belt loops, pushing and pulling you fully; the other traced teasingly along the damp, exposed skin of your belly at your belt line, and the feeling made you moan in earnest shock.

The leather of his gloves was shockingly soft against your damp skin as he suddenly let it jump up just above your breasts, the heel of his hand brushing at your cleavage as it slipped higher and higher, firmly clasping at your throat. You were still able to breathe, since he wasn't really choking you, but the grip he maintained below your jaw meant that he basically had full control of your body, pulling you back quickly and easily until you were snug against his chest, his cracked lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear.

"If you can't keep that mouth shut, I'll find another use for it." he whispered, continuing to tug at your belt loops and your sanity. Your throbbing pussy clenched around nothing at his dirty talk, so much realer than ever before. You knew now that his teasing came from a genuine place, at least; you could very clearly feel the shape of his hardening cock against your ass.

You were tempted to test his claim, to whine out again fully and see what he would slip into your mouth. But instead you clamped your lips between your teeth so hard that you wondered if the chapped flesh would bleed, finally giving in and letting your hips cant ever so slightly against his leg as he continued to bounce his knee, the motion becoming quite exaggerated as the minutes continued to tick by.

The idea of any looming danger outside was quickly becoming lost among the static, the pretense of accidental squirming rapidly melting away; your brain felt runny, loose, and it was difficult to you to keep a logical train of thought for long, but it did occur to you that the two of you were basically fooling around in a closet. If you'd been coherent at all, you'd have wondered how he would react towards you when this whole awful, delicious thing was over, or even how it would end, but coherence was long lost to you as you barreled towards something amazing.

"Please, I...you have to stop..." you whispered desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you felt the incredibly tense muscles in your abdomen start to flutter. If he didn't know what he'd been doing, he knew now, and his leg didn't stop for a single second, not even a falter in his movements as you began unashamedly moving your hips as far back and forth as you could reach, the firm muscle of him stimulating you so perfectly. A frantic little whimper escaped your lips, which your left hand jumped to cover, your teeth sinking into your palm you danced right up to the edge, your empty cunt gripping feverishly at nothing.

"Coop. Please." you begged, but you were unsure if you were begging him to stop or to let you finish.

He granted you the latter, both hands sliding right back down to your hips, pressing your weight hard down into him as you both worked your body back and forth, once, twice, and a final time as your head fell slack against his shoulder, his lips at the side of your throat as you came completely apart in his lap, limbs twitching, teeth pulling a tear in your dry lower lip as you bit down on it hard to hide your moans. Vaguely, you were aware of the feeling of him rocking his erection against your backside, his breathing almost as heavy as yours.

"Good girl." you swore you heard him mumble, but chalked it up to your overstimulated, spinning brain simply making you hear what you wanted to hear.

For maybe a minute, you allowed yourself the indulgence of resting against him, struggling to slow your heaving breaths. Slowly, you leaned forward once more, curling yourself into a half-ball with your head as far between your knees as you could manage until you no longer felt light headed. At some point, your companion regained his composure, his tone not strained or breathy in the slightest when he spoke to you again.

"Well," he said, suddenly back at his regular volume and causing you to jump slightly, "I think we can get out of here."

You twisted back to look at him, but before you could lock eyes, he was already lifting you by your hips to force you to stand on your shaky legs, pulling himself up to a crouch as he tugged the door open. You flinched, stumbling a bit as you attempted to conceal yourself behind the wall, but you peered back out when he confidently strode out past you, bending and turning at the waist as his spine let out a series of loud cracks and pops. Behind him, you struggled to stand fully upright, attempting to fix the fit of your clothing from where it had been tugged on.

"C'mon, let's go." he called over his shoulder, not turning to look at you fully as he trekked forward towards the hill you'd spent what felt like ages fearing as if it were nothing but another pile of dirt to be crossed.

"Shouldn't we try to go the long way around outta here? What if they're still over there, just not close enough to pick up on?" you called, concerned once more now that the flow of blood had generally returned to your brain. Everywhere around you, you felt imaginary danger, ready for anything to jump out from anywhere, as nothing had actually changed the whole time you'd been hidden away.

That got him to stop and turn to look back at you, an incredibly impish look playing across his face.

"I get the feeling it'll be alright." he winked before resuming his climb up the fairly steep incline, sand rolling down in little rivulets behind his retreating feet.

You lagged behind a bit, watching him go through narrowed eyes. Turning your gaze towards the setting sun, you mused to yourself that soon, the two of you would need to stop for the night. The roads through here were too dangerous to travel at night.

He would have some turnabout coming his way, you knew that for certain. Your days of being teased were about to be done.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can I request the "only one bed" trope with Jake but reader just insists that they don't mind sleeping in the bathtub?

SFW version coming up! Sorry for the delay anon! (And to my other requests too 🙇🏻‍♀️)

Jake Kim x Reader: Only One (1) Bed

G/N. Silly.

"I'm serious!"

You laugh until your knees are buckling, doubled over and clinging onto Jake to keep you upright.

The idea of this 6ft 5 man crammed into a miniscule bathtub for an entire night, waking up with a crick in his neck and his back creaking amuses you way more than it should have.

Jake sees the tears of laughter in your eyes, the mirth spreads and he's chuckling along with you. Until he's holding on to you as much as you are to him.

It's needlessly convoluted, this situation. What should have been a pleasant night going to sleep in a king size bed of your own has turned into the receptionist muttering their apologies and comping you for this booking mishap.

Which is nice, sure. But it doesn't solve the dilemma that you and Jake are crammed into this one room.

(There is no nearby vacancy. Believe you me, you’ve checked. Double checked, triple. Nothing.)

And while the bed looks all lovely and big for you. Add in this huge muscular man, then it gets exponentially smaller.

Really, it's good of Jake Kim to offer to sleep in the bathtub, which is completely ridiculous by the way. It’s an empty offer, as he knows and you know there is no way you would let your friend cram himself and all his long limbs into that tiny uncomfortable space.

You sure as hell aren't going to be the bigger person and suggest you take the bathtub. This is your room. Under your name. It's Jake's booking that had gone amiss.

"I can take the floor?" He offers, once the laughter dies down and you both look around wondering where he would even be able to lie down fully in this room, not to consider being able to stretch out.

"No, I'm not going to let you curl up like a dog at the bottom of the bed." His lips quirk at the imagery. "We'll have to share."

You gesture to the bed. The one bed. One. Singular.

Jake opens his mouth to give another feeble idea. You cut him off, telling him with finality, "It's just for one night."

You launch yourself onto what you decide is your side. The one furthest from the door. If an intruder breaks in, they can get through Jake Kim first.

"Just keep to your side and your hands to yourself," You stretch, listening to your joints click and missing the way Jake's face reddens as his mind fills with indecent images.

That settles that then.

.

.

Jake stirs first.

Keeps his eyes closed, ignoring the sun peeking through the blackout curtains and enjoys a very rare lie in. When he doesn't need to spring out of bed and deal with Big Deal and all its troubles.

He's a light sleeper. Usually has troubles drifting off. Yet after the initial awkwardness of getting used to you next to him, he was completely knocked out.

This may have been the best night's sleep that he can remember. Is better rested than he has been in a long time.

Room, perfect temperature. Bed, perfect firmness. Pillows, perfect bounce. And the weight on his chest is pleasant too. Warm and soft and soothing. Like a weighted blanket. A stress ball.

He gives said stress ball a squeeze and is met with a grunt.

Huh. That's odd. Hold on-

His eyes fly open and are met with the sight of your head on his chest and lightly snoring.

And now that he's very rapidly waking up, he's aware of his arm around you, yours draped over his body and legs entangled.

Jake gulps, realising he did neither of the things that you said. He did not keep to his side or his hands to himself.  At some point in the night, instead of both of you sticking to the very edges of your respective corners, you must have met and... cuddled. 

How obscene.

He peeps over to your side, and finds ample room. It's a very small relief as he figures out you were the one that must have sought him out.

With great care, he tries to remove his arm. Slowly slip it out to prevent waking you and all hell breaking loose.

You don't make it easy.

In fact, you make it nigh on impossible as your grip on him tightens and you grumble, "Not yet. S'early."

He tries once more to extract himself. It's a futile effort. Nonetheless he tries with a bit more force and receives a sharp pain instead.

Your mouth is on his pec. Having bitten him, leaving behind a very clear bite mark, spit visible on his t-shirt as he stares in shock.

Fine. Fine. He won't move. How can he, if you're going to get... violent. When you wake up, you only have yourself to blame.

That's his excuse anyway, he decides, and finally relaxes with you in his arms.

[hatsukeii]

HATSSUN’S CORNER CAFE GRAND OPENING!

Welcome in, welcome in! ...Oh, you recognise me? Well, I guess building bands just wasn't paying the bills anymore... but anyways! I'll be serving you today, what are we looking for?

We are closing soon! Keep your eyes peeled for NOVEMBER 3, and get your orders in before then so we can make it on time!

Step 1. Pick your order!

☕️⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ latte - fluff 🍵⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tea - angst 🧋⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ boba (yes, we serve that too!) - crack 🥐⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ something from our (experimental) bakery - suggestive/mild nsfw (18+) feel free to mix and match! order more than one if you'd like!

Step 2. Got an allergy? Can't stand the texture of powdered sugar? Give me any modifications you'd like with your order! (prompts are linked! give me the number that you want and i’ll fix it up:))

🍯⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ extra sweet! 🍃⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sugar free! 🍂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ got an allergy, need a substitute!! 🍪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ there's something specific that's not here!

Step 3. Pick your match!

🎀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Hey.. so like... it would be a total HR disaster if my business partner found out I was matchmaking for customers, but if there's anyone that catches your eye... pass their name and where they're from over on the back of your receipt, then let me handle the rest;)

Step 4. Place your order, sit back, and relax, your order is coming right up!

☕️⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Keep track of your order here!

Disclaimer(s)!

Final exams for college entry are starting next Tuesday for me, so this corner cafe will be open for a while, and all orders are going to start getting prepared from around the end of next week onward. Apologies for the delays that I KNOW are going to happen. The mild nsfw/suggestive is just that. MILD. I'm doing this to practice writing different things and getting comfortable with dabbling in smut so please for the love of GOD don't send me something too crazy because even if I had the ingredients for it I wouldn't know how to make it. Any requests made to me about the 900 event, or from my cry for help a few days ago can be redone here as well! (I'm looking at you my beautiful mooties and the two wonderful anons in my inbox thank you very much and I love you all)

author's note:

thank you all so much for 1000>!?!>!??! insane absolutely crazy impossible to fathom that i've managed to keep this blog going for so long and people actually enjoy my writing UGHFDIU i love you all so much<33333 so excited to see what people come up with!!!!

[vraisetzen]

I do hope no one has asked this anytime recently and I just did not see, but I can't help but be curious about the child situation at the end of Notte Stellata!

Did they actually end up having children? How many did they have and(if you have any ideas)what were the names given? I'm also wondering what their parenting methods/dynamics are. I apologize if this is an odd question, but thank you for reading regardless😅

Hi Anon! Please don't apologise for this question, because it's actually quite interesting! So:

I had half-written a bonus chapter for Notte Stellata that I initially planned to publish in line with the release of the movies, or Kokushibo's first proper appearance (which will come first) — it basically surrounds Kokushibo, the Reader, and their family situation. I kinda delayed finishing it because I was a little burned out from writing in general, but —

As it happened, I've gotten quite a few Asks about this as well — if they had a kid, if they could have kids, etc — and I've been getting back into the spirit of writing, that I can confirm that yes, the chapter will be out by the end of this year (before November, hopefully!). And I hope it helps with answering your first question~

Now, for your second question...

I thought long and hard about the names Kokushibo and the Reader would give their children, as a name nerd myself. Personally, I think the Reader would be quite modern, despite her taste for the classical arts. Michikatsu, on other other hand, as a man from a bygone era, would be a bit rigid when it came to names, preferring a tōriji (generational name) that could represent not only the renewing of the Tsugikuni family, but also a combination of the Reader's and his hopes for their children. This, naturally, led to a disagreement between the both of them

"Kiyo?" Michikatsu asked, looking across the Gō board as his hand hovered over the lines.

"Why not? It's a very popular name," you remarked. Canting your head to the side, you began listing out the names of children you heard whilst walking in town, the voices of their exasperated mothers echoing in your head. "Tomo, Teru, Nao..."

The stone he had been pinching between his index and middle fingers made a dull clack as Michikatsu dropped it back into the bowl.

"Tsugikuni Nao," he declared, with more than a touch of disdain in his voice.

"Sounds rather fashionable," you offered.

"It sounds provincial," Michikatsu remarked, fishing for another stone in his bowl.

"What do you have in mind then?"

Michikatsu stilled for a moment as he considered your words, his thumb polishing the glossy black stone in his hand. Then, slowly, he said: "Nobuzaemon..."

"What?" you giggled, hiding your grin with the back of your hand.

"A chi'd's name should be treated with care and importance," Kokushibo reasoned, placing the stone on the board with a light clack. "It determines their life and the path they will take."

"Still, we're naming a child, not a kabuki actor..."

Kokushibo said nothing further thereafter, and a stiff silence befell the two of you; as he continued with his game, you noticed that he seemed rather distracted. The sounds of the stone tapping on the Go board were louder than usual, each move proceeding faster as he filled the intersecting lines. Still, you chose not to comment, wondering instead if you should have humoured him when he suggested that name, however strange it was to your ears.

But the child is mine too, you thought as you tucked yourself in bed that night, after you two had spent the rest of the day and evening without exchanging another word. You were happy to concede to Kokushibo in many things ��� craft and repair, his knowledge of the arts, his skills on the Go board; just as he deferred to your expertise when it came to choosing his clothes, tidying the house, and managing your shared expenses. But a child was no room for compromise; Kokushibo's suggestion had indeed sounded antiquated to your ears, and you would loathe for your child to be teased by other children.

"I have something for you," you suggested three afternoons later when you realised you could not bear the cold drift that hovered over your heads. Michikatsu was seated in the yard, affixing a new strap for his sandals. You sat down beside him, and produced a piece of paper which you had folded carefully and stowed in your sleeves.

Smoothing out the creases, you revealed what you have committed yourself to for the past few days: a list of kanji that you liked in names: Tada, Kiyo, Hiro, Kazu...

Kokushibo's eyes drifted from the paper and to your face with curiousity. You continued: "You can add your favourite characters here, and we'll choose a name that we both like."

Taking the parchment from your hands, Kokushibo was quiet as he took in your selections. Eventually, he folded the paper back along the lines and slipped it into his kimono.

"I'll think about it."

"Don't just think," you countered, You tucked the paper further into the folds before pressing your hand against his chest. "Write anything that comes to your mind, and let me know when you're ready."

You stood up, and dusted away the dirt on your clothes. As you prepared to leave, however, Kokushibo grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you to an abrupt stop. Turning around, you saw that he was on the verge of saying something: an acquiescence, then? Or an apology, perhaps?

But you noticed how the hardened lines in his brow had softened somewhat, and he decided to let go of your hand without a word; instead of dropping your hands to your sides, you let your fingers linger a moment longer, brushing against the calluses of his palm, a small but knowing smile on your lips.

Now, if we're talking specific names — and I hope that I do not ruin anyone's headcanon of how Kokushibo/Michikatsu had named or would name his children (canonically and in the context of Notte Stellata) — I think the Reader and him would eventually choose Tada, which can be written as 正 (which means steadfast and upright), 忠 (loyalty), amidst other characters and meanings. Kokushibo would be partial towards the second, I believe, as a former samurai.

This could therefore imply the following name combinations and meanings:

Tadanobu 忠延 — loyalty + continuation/perpetuation

Tadasuke 忠仰 — loyalty + admiration/adulation

Tadahiro 忠熙 — loyalty + radiance

These names are generally considered a little old-fashioned, but not too much (like the one Kokushibo suggested, which comes straight out of Kurosawa film). It's a sensible old name (think Theodore, Frederick, Percival).

For a daughter, however, they would choose something a lot less intense, for lack of a better word. I'd like to think, in line with the Reader's flair for painting, that they chose a name with an -e (絵, meaning painting or illustration) at the end, which gives us something to the tune of:

Yukie 雪絵 — lit. snow painting;

Fuyue 冬絵 — lit. winter painting/landscape

Tsukie 月絵 — lit. moon painting (this is a little on the nose, but I love it, honestly)

This, of course, harkens also to the Reader and Kokushibo's first encounter, where they met beneath a moonless sky, in the snow.

I hope this was helpful! I most certainly had a lot of fun thinking of the various names they would have. :D

xoxo, V ♥️

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

I've finally felt well enough to go through the inbox to queue the submissions.

If you sent in more than one submission, you may notice them posting out of order. This is because I have shuffled the queue, so they are not posted chronologically.

Just one note: If you sent in something that said "Pt1" at the end, did you send in a part 2? Because if so, I didn't get it. The submission seemed complete enough as is, so I have queued it but feel free to send in a part 2 and I can merge them before it posts.

If you need a reminder of what part 1 was, feel free to contact me off anon and I'll respond to you privately and send you what you submitted.

Now, directed more at general submitters: If you do have a multi-part submission, please label them as Part 1/2/3/etc at the beginning of the submission and not at the end. I'm much more prone to missing it if it's at the end. And also, please only send in multi-part submissions if it is too long to fit in to a single post. There's no need to send in five submissions that are each just a few sentences long. The Ask Box can contain very large submissions.

Hope that information is clear and understandable. Always feel free to ask questions.

I'm still not well. But my migraine finally went away. I apologize for the delay in queuing submissions. And also, I would like to pre-apologize in case anything comes out of the queue that is inappropriate. I waited until I was in a better mindset for reading through submissions to be sure I didn't queue something that shouldn't be posted, but as I said, I'm still not well and lack of sleep is making my judgement and reading comprehension flawed.

Thanks for being patient with me while I deal with all of my health issues.

[lestappenforever]

hey mona how are you feeling? how did the surgery go? <3

Hello, anon! You're so sweet for asking, and my apologies for the slightly delayed response here! Yesterday became a bit more stressful than I had hoped for. 😅

Putting this under a 'Read more' just so people who don't want to read about stuff like this can avoid it. TW: Mentions of blood.

I'm feeling pretty well! No pain or discomfort yet, so that's good. A little bit tired due to the blood loss and the overall stress of last night, but overall I'm feeling good.

The surgery itself went really well! It took a bit longer than anticipated as the surgery was performed by a surgeon in training, so there was a lot of consulting with the attending surgeon and double checking everything that was being done. But, the surgeon in training, the attending surgeon and the nurse who was there to look after me were all so incredibly sweet! They talked me through everything they were doing, explained every step and what to expect, and they were so generous with the anesthesia that I didn't feel any pain or discomfort during the procedure itself. And the nurse did an amazing job at keeping me distracted while the surgeon was burning away the affected parts of my cervix.

Due to how I started bleeding immensely a few days after my biopsy in June, they gave me a prescription for pills with tranexamic acid to stop bleeding from organs and advised me to start taking them after the surgery, which I did. They also put like 3 meters of gauze up there that I had to leave in for four hours.

But, when I removed the gauze as instructed four hours later, I started bleeding a lot. Much, much more than I did after my biopsy, and I was honestly pretty terrified. So I called the hospital, they told me to come back and I did, which was good because it turns out a blood vessel had ruptured that was causing the bleeding, and it wouldn't have stopped on its own. (And the pills can't stop bleeding from a ruptured blood vessel.)

The sweetest gynecologist checked me out and discovered the ruptured blood vessel, and put in two stitches to close it. That bleeding stopped right away when he did, and that was that. I'm not gonna lie, that was quite painful at times, but it was also necessary. So I'm very happy that I called the hospital and was asked to come in, and now I feel completely fine!

And as stressful and scary as yesterday ended up being, it's a million times better than not doing any of it at all. I'd get a thousand stitches and go through a hundred procedures to remove parts of my cervix as long as that results in a seriously reduced risk of at some point developing ovarian cancer.

So moral of the story: Don't skip your Pap smears, take your health seriously, and listen to your body when it's telling you something is wrong because, most likely, you'll be right. Don't fuck around and find out with your health, please. ❤️

[obsolescent]

Ok so I wanted to add to that anon. Personally, I’d see that Leon scrambles for answers. He tries to keep himself together. He really does. But as time goes on and he bottles and bottles, he just breaks.

I’m talking he has been at 99 for a long time, but he did well hiding it so everyone sees him at like 20-40 before he hits 100. When he hits 100?

Catatonic. He becomes still from the depression, the trauma and the exhaustion. He might repeat words spoken to him but that’s not *Leon*. He’s completely shut down. His brain physically can’t handle it anymore and goes into a literal crash/power down mode.

The other problem is that he’s extremely vulnerable in this state. So his anxiety is sky high. It’s just he’s unable to react to the world properly. He’s frozen and he’s scared.

If he has an s/o or friend or something, they’ll need to step up and make sure he’s at least drinking water. And they’ll need to be close by when Leon manages to get out of his catatonic state. One of the rare times he’s cry is ‘waking up’ from catatonia.

Content warnings: discussion of mental illness and disordered behavior. This may be distressing for some, you have been forewarned.

Apologies for the delay in this one but I saw this when it was first sent in and…It made me so sad I teared up. Just thinking of him isolating and closing himself to all who care for him... (I had to write a scene to make me feel better because this about did me in.)

He would be hanging on by a literal thread for years and try everything he can find in books and online until that one time that just unravels it all. He’ll know he’s on the verge, he wouldn’t know what would exactly happen but, to be sure, he’d cease all contact with anyone and take PTO.

It would be very hard to reach him in that state once things fall apart, it would send his friends into a panic because they would have no idea what’s happened to him.

Thankfully you would have a spare key to his place and you would wait until your nerves are absolutely frayed before you go and let yourself in. You’ll respect his privacy until it gets to the point that you’re worrying for his safety. Afraid of what he may have done to himself.

Bracing yourself for what you might find, thankfully you find him on the couch, alive though disheveled, staring at the ceiling. Approaching him cautiously, you softly speak his name. The sound of your voice has him lurching upwards, gasping in surprise at your presence.

He hadn’t heard you come in. You knew then that something was gravely amiss.

You stare at each other for a tense moment before he crumbles.

Head in his hands, sobs releasing tremors through his body. You rush around the side of the couch and pull him into your arms. You rock back and forth with a gentle rhythm, his form abuts yours. No words exchanged between the two of you, Leon’s mouth wouldn’t have been able to form sentences at that moment, regardless.

The sour scent of body odor would not be subtle, his hair oily from lack of care. You don’t care, you’re actually glad to smell it, to feel his body sagging against yours, the dirty locks pressed against your cheek. None of that matters, what does is that he’s breathing.

You’re not sure what’s happened, uncertain you can fathom what he’s been going through. The knowledge of his job leaving him battered and bruised, some days where he’s bed ridden in recovery is brought to the forefront of your mind.

You’ve pulled him closer as your thoughts run rampant, and his hands move. Away from his face, he embraces you and pulls even more. Your bodies would fuse together if there was any more grasping to be done.

Leon tries to find words, though they’re not much other than soft murmurs, which is stopped with a “Shh,” and a caressing of his back.

“Don’t need to speak, s’alright. I’m not going anywhere,” whispered against his head.

None else needs to be spoken. They’ll be time to listen, to speak once more once he’s convalescent.

He lets you guide him through the space. Even with his mind muddled, he knows you mean the best.

The lights remain off to beget as little distress as possible. Your mind knows the geography of his home, letting your body usher the two through the darkness, to his room.

You help him find purchase against the bed, and once settled, your bodies coalescence.

The day and time are lost to you as Leon is enfolded against your self. You will give him all that he needs.

[giggly-moon]

First of many prompts to come your way! Could I have a mix of 17 & 20 with Elpenor, Polites & Eurylochus? & if you’re feeling up to it, you can toss Odysseus into the ring as well

17: being chased or trying to hide

20: double teaming on someone

A/N: FIRST PIECE OF WRITING IVE FINISHED IN YEARS LETS GOOO! this was a very fun one to start out with, elpenor anon if you ever see this i got most of my inspiration for how to write elpenor from you and i hope i make you proud. also! i’ll still be accepting requests even after your birthday ends cause i’m having a lot of fun <3 (the prompts list is in my pinned post!) anyway enjoy

“Coming through!”

The small group of soldiers going about their normal everyday tasks quickly dispersed to make way for the youngest of their group, just barely managing to move out of the way in time to avoid Elpenor barreling into them. They watched him go with slight confusion that quickly vanished upon hearing a shout of “Hey! Get back here!” shortly after.

Of course, Elpenor ignored it, only letting out a slightly nervous giggle in response. His attempt to flee may end up being pointless in the end, but he would much rather attempt to delay the inevitable as much as he can than just stand there and accept his fate. He’s not a quitter.

Unfortunately for him, Polites doesn’t seem like much of a quitter either. Each time he turns a corner or jumps down a set of steps, anything to try and shake him off, he keeps catching up with him eventually. Elpenor blames those damn long legs of his.

He jumps another set of stairs and races down to where the cabins are, hoping that maybe he’ll have enough time to find a place to hide, but nearly crashes into a very startled Eurylochus.

“Elpenor?” Eurylochus grabs a hold of Elpenor’s arms to catch him, looking confused and slightly alarmed. “Is there something wrong?”

“Eurylochus! Perfect timing! Quick, you have to hide me!”

Eurylochus blinks down at him, opening his mouth to say something like “what did you do this time?” before the sound of running footsteps interrupts him. He looks up to see Polites coming up to them, looking rather out of breath.

“You… have way too much energy for your own good.” Polites pants out, and Elpenor flinches and whips around to face him, Eurylochus can see him hiding something behind his back.

“Can one of you please explain what’s going on?”

Polites narrows his eyes playfully and points an accusatory finger at Elpenor. “This little rascal stole my headband!”

“What?! No, no no no, i would never-“

“Oh, is that what this is?” Eurylochus casually tugs Elpenor’s arm up and out from behind his back, ignoring his squeaked out protests as he plucks the headband from his grip. He tosses it back over to Polites as if they were playing keep away, using one arm to hold Elpenor back when he tries to make a swipe for it.

“Thank you very much!” Polites chirps as he quickly ties the headband back around his head, before returning to glaring at Elpenor with his hands on his hips like an exasperated mother. “As for you, what do you have to say for yourself, mister?”

Elpenor can see that there’s a clear way out of this. Accept defeat and apologize for his act of theft, and Polites will probably let him off with only a stern look and a ruffle to the hair. He instead chooses to not do that. “You look silly with your hair all in your face.”

Polites gives him a very dry look for a moment, and he can hear Eurylochus stifle a chuckle behind him. “Wow. Eurylochus, hold him still for me please.”

“Will do.”

Elpenor didn’t even get a chance to process what he heard before two strong arms quickly wrapped around his torso, lifting him up off the floor and holding him against Eurylochus’ chest, who keeps him there near effortlessly even with all of his kicking and squirming. “Wait, wait, wait! Dohon’t you dare!”

“Was that a giggle i heard? Already?” Polites tilts his head with a look of pure mischief, Elpenor gave a shake of his head and pressed his lips together tightly to hold back even more giggles trying to spill out. “I think it was! And i haven’t even done anything yet.”

Elpenor has always been terrible at handling any sort of teasing, his face already burning red at his words. He tries kicking in Polites’ direction more purposefully this time, trying to keep him at a distance, but Polites dodges them and grabs hold of one of his legs instead. “But you’re going tohohoho!” His words trail off into bubbly laughter as Polites uses one hand to squeeze rapidly at his captured knee.

Polites raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe we wouldn’t, if you hadn’t decided to provoke us even more with that comment.” He shares a look with Eurylochus, who takes it as his cue to adjust his hold on Elpenor and use one hand to dig into his ribs, sending him into a fit of cackles and snorts. “We’re just giving you what you apparently wanted.”

“What?!” Elpenor shrieks, making Polites snicker at the way his voice cracks. There’s really no point in denying it, he knew exactly what kind of grave he was digging for himself and he knows they can see right through him. That doesn’t stop him from denying it anyway. “Thahat is nohohot true!”

“What’s going on here?”

God fucking damnit.

Eurylochus halts his attack upon hearing the amused voice of their captain, but Polites is sure to keep Elpenor giggling even as he turns his head to address his friend. “Oh nothing. Just a well overdue attitude adjustment, that’s all.” He says with an almost innocent smile.

Elpenor fruitlessly tries to will Odysseus into leaving with his mind, because it’s one thing to be so rudely called out like that, but in front of their captain? Now that’s just plain cruel. But to his dismay, Odysseus just steps closer with a warm chuckle.

“I see. In that case, then,” Odysseus grabs hold of Elpenor’s other leg and moved a hand to lightly scratch at the underside of his knee, drawing out a loud squeal and even more cackling. “The backs of his knees are even worse.”

“TRAHAHAITOR!”

[cod-dump]

Hope your head has stopped trying to commit a crime, so pardon my bothering.

This is the Simon Riley has a grave anon here with more concerning it! (because for some reason it randomly popped back into my head and I must share)

There's a new recruit about to be sent to train on the 141's base, but is delayed due to personal hardship. His grandfather had just passed, and he needed some time. This recruit never had a father, and his grandpa just filled that role so easily, so losing him was hard. Turns out, this recruit is also from Manchester and his grandpa is buried next to one "Lieutenant Simon Riley"

Recruit gives a brief salute to the "deceased" lieutenant as he asks him to be a good neighbor to Pop.

Once he's back on base, he's heard stories about "Ghost" already, even before being on base, when he first joined and was told where he would be sent to. He's nervous about meeting him, especially given he's a week late and doesn't know anything else. And it's during his first training session with his new lieutenant that really freaks him out. Ghost is in a sour mood, and snaps at this recruit after not recognizing him.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Private Tyler Maverick, sir." Ghost eyes him suspiciously.

"You're a week late. Better be for a damn good reason." Ghost clearly was not present at the base to be informed of why Maverick was late.

"Had to bury someone, sir." There's an awkward pause as Ghost stares at him. Ghost just grunts in response before turning away and pretty much ignoring Maverick the rest of the day. Later that day, around dinner, Maverick is told to meet the lieutenant in his office. When he enters, Ghost is leaning against the desk, arms crossed and given no hint of what he wanted Maverick for.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"Wanted to apologize for my comment earlier. I had only just rolled in the night before and didn't get briefed on the new recruits very long." Maverick shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle, sir. If I can't handle a comment about burying a family member, then I shouldn't be here." Ghost narrows his eyes in questioning.

"Doesn't make it right, though. Burying family is a nasty business." Maverick shrugs, not really wanting to go into the whole thing, but it seems Ghost has other plans.

"How you holding up? I hear you only had a couple days before being shipped out."

"Fine, honest. Been kept busy the whole time so I guess it hasn't really hit yet." Maverick nervously rubs at his neck, starting to see where Ghost was going with this.

"Some of us move on faster than others, especially depending on who they lost." Ghost comments, and Maverick wants to curl in on himself. He'd heard stories about Ghost's uncanny ability to read someone with pinpoint accuracy, but he never thought he'd be the subject of it.

"Lost my grandpa. He was more like my dad, never got to meet the real deal, ya know? Died when I was young. For a really long time, Pop was all I had. Mom worked all the time and I was an only child. Now I'm here, and he's buried and it all just feels so surreal but in a bad way. I don't know, but I'm okay, sir, honest." Maverick rambles, tripping over his words as he tries to rush up in case his little rant had upset Ghost.

"Yeah and I'm the bloody Queen of England. But, fine, I'll go with it for now. Tell me when it gets to be a problem, though. Can't have my soldiers compromised." Maverick nods.

"Yessir. And, if you don't mind, I never got to properly meet you, sir, so I never caught your name."

"Simon Riley." Maverick pales almost immediately as recognition of the name dawns on him.

"You all right?"

"It's got to be a coincidence." He whispers and Ghost cocks his head at him.

"What is?"

"There's a lieutenant buried next to Pop with the same name as you."

"Manchester?"

"Yessir. Hell, I even asked him to be a good neighbor." Maverick mutters the second sentence, hoping Ghost wouldn't hear it.

"S'alright, I'm a pretty quiet neighbor." If it weren't for the deadpan way Ghost had said it, or the absurdity of the situation, Maverick would have passed out right there.

"I-I'm sorry?" He asks between nervous laughs.

"Name Ghost comes from somewhere, ya know. Dismissed." Maverick has never left a room so fast in his life.

He does eventually get an answer, and loads more questions, about the grave from Gaz.

"Oh yeah, it's a long story. Don't worry, Private Bones is also a good neighbor, even if he is an alcoholic."

Maverick has officially decided to never question his superior officers ever again, and he ends up being the one recruit they can fuck around in front of because he'll just blink at them before going back to whatever he was doing and never mention anything again.

He definitely makes sure to tell Pop how interesting his neighbor is every chance he gets.

(this turned into an actual something, I'm sorry, didn't mean that to happen but it is what it is)

Adding Tyler Maverick to the list of recruits that Ghost has adopted unintentionally.

I love this!!

And I'm feeling much better than what I was this morning, thank you <3

[ana-chronista]

29 for bojere ❤

Apologies for the delay, Anon, but thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy it! (It got very long...)

Waking up the morning after their second Helsinki gig was never going to be a fun experience, but having that knowledge didn’t make it any easier. Bojan groaned, resisting the urge to pull the pillow over his head and block out everything until he ran out of time, and reached for his phone. 9 am. OK, so that was something at least – their ferry wasn’t until the early afternoon, so there was still time before he needed to throw everything in his suitcase and leave Finland behind. Leave Jere behind, you mean, a snide little voice needled him in the back of his mind. Bojan dropped his phone back on the bedside table and at least allowed himself to bury his face in the pillow instead. The other side of the bed was empty but judging by the rattling and clanking coming from next door, Jere was in the kitchen. He’s talking to himself – muttering, really – in that way that Bojan’s learned that he does, narrating his own life in rolling Finnish as he goes about his day. Bojan doesn't do well alone – never has, truth be told – and he knows it. It's why his time as a solo artist was so short lived, and why he'd asked Kris to take Martin’s old room when he moved in with his partner. There's just something comforting about having someone else nearby, even when they're in the next room doing their own thing. For a moment, he lets his mind wander; lets himself believe that this is just a normal morning in a normal day, with nowhere they need to be an nothing they need to do. He can follow Jere into the kitchen, waste time trading lazy kisses with no urgency for them to go further, share a leisurely breakfast just the two of them. They can take a stroll together, binge Netflix, order a takeaway, just enjoy all the time they have together doing the most mundane things. The door creaks, snapping him out of it. Of course, none of that can happen – he's got somewhere to be. Sighing, he turns to look round at Jere, who’s shuffling into the room with a mug in each hand. “Bojan, you're awake.” He pulls himself up so he's sitting against the headboard and nods. The sight of Jere swamped in a hockey shirt and sweatpants, hair ruffled and feet bare, is so domestic that it brings a lump to his throat and he doesn't quite trust himself to speak. If Jere notices he says nothing. He passes Bojan one of the mugs, the one patterned with gaudy orange and pink flowers. He’d presented Bojan with it in the autumn, proudly announcing “It is you” before tripping over the word “shagadelic” three times and dissolving into laughter. The fact that he's remembered and kept this eyesore of a mug safe for his return months and an apartment move later – that it wasn't just a one-off joke – makes his throat hurt even more. For a long moment he just focuses on sipping his scalding coffee and Jere does the same. The silence is almost peaceful, almost not loaded. It’s Jere who breaks it. “I tell Joker guys I get you back in one piece.” Bojan remembers – he was there for every one of the increasingly dramatic promises that Jere had made to his bandmates at the end of each night they’d been in Helsinki. It had started simply enough, swearing that he’d make sure Bojan didn’t spend all night out and about at the city’s clubs (accomplished – they’d gone straight back to Jere’s still-new-to-Bojan apartment) and that he’d force him to abide by vocal rest (debatable – it was probably for the best they’d not run into any of Jere’s neighbours so far), but had gradually morphed into a list of all the possible risks Jere would guard him from, from hysterical fans to rampaging moose to – at Jure’s particular insistence – rabid Moomins.

“So, I feed you and bring you back to hotel. All laundry in case this time, yes?”

Bojan nods again, sipping at his coffee. He’d accepted his errant clothes back from Jere at the start of the trip with just as much ceremony as they’d been presented to him and stowed them away safely already. Of course, if one of Jere’s t-shirts had happened to bury itself in there underneath everything else, he wasn’t going to mention it. "And then me and Hӓӓrijӓ bring you all to ferry to make sure you are there OK. Good plan, yes?” He can see from the corner of his vision that Jere is ducking slightly, trying to catch his eye, and has no choice but to look up. It makes it all the worse, just as he’d known it would. He wonders if Jere will look so calm when they say goodbye. Probably not, even in public at the port; definitely not when they say their real goodbye to each other here before stepping out of the front door. He’s got past evidence to go off of, of course, and knows as soon as he lets everything show in his face he won’t be able to stop. So he just doesn’t. “But then I think you have not been to Tallinn before.” Jere carries on, slow and deliberate and too thoughtful. He’s not quite tapping his chin in consideration, but it’s a close call. “Maybe you not know your way around. You don’t find venue, you miss gig, fans angry, end of band. Not good. Bojan is too pretty not to be star.”

Despite everything, Bojan feels the tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. Jere having an absurd tangent for all occasions is nothing new to him – it was one of the first things that had drawn him to him at the pre-parties, even if the earliest ones had mainly been through gestures and miming – but he can’t help but be amused by it each and every time.

Then Jere is suddenly pulling his phone out from his pocket, swiping through it as he reaches out to put his mug on the bedside table. It takes him a moment to find what he’s looking for, but as soon as he lands on it he’s passing the phone to Bojan with a triumphant “So, I book this.” Bojan blinks at the screen, still cradling his coffee in one hand. It’s a ferry ticket. “You’re coming with us to Tallinn?” It’s there in black and white in front of him, but he can’t help his words still coming out as a question. He checks the timing of the email and sees it came through yesterday just before the end of their gig. It’s clearly a spur of the moment decision and Bojan loves him for it. “Yes, yes. I will be guide for you, me and Hӓӓrijӓ. Show you all the best kebab van and kareoke.” His face splits into a full-blown grin as he passes back the phone. “Alika’s going to be happy to see you too.” Jere nods enthusiastically. “Yes, I think maybe we get big cake to celebrate. And I will jump out for surprise!” And suddenly, with their goodbye pushed back – only by a day, just forty eight hours, but forty eight more hours than we had just a moment ago – it’s so easy to dissolve into laughter, to lose themselves in such a ridiculous idea, to just be them. Bojan is a split second away from asking if Jere knows any Estonian bakers who might be willing and able to whip up a giant decoy cake at such short notice when suddenly Jere gets himself under control enough to swipe again through his phone and hold it out. “But then also I book this.” He accepts the phone again, glances down at the screen and promptly freezes. He feels lightheaded all of a sudden, barely able to make out anything past ‘Helsinki-Vantaa’, ‘Ljubljana’, and ‘5 May’. “Jere, what – ” His voice catches in his throat and all he can do is stare at him, wide-eyed. For his part, Jere is deliberately nonchalant, but Bojan can see the tension in his shoulders blaring his nervousness out to the whole world. “I have album to work on, but only one gig. I check with the guys and they say you have time then. But is just me, not Hӓӓrijӓ, so maybe they are disappointed.” “I can’t believe it – I – ” He shakes his head. There’s too much to say to be able to wrangle it into a sentence or two. “I want this to work. I want that we know when we will see each other, not just...” Jere seems to run out of words, resorting to scrunching up his face and gesturing vaguely, but Bojan knows what he means. “And you come here now three times. I do not make it to London – ” “That’s not your fault, you were busy.” The words may be true and well-worn by now through all the times he’s repeated them to himself and others, but they still weigh heavily in Bojan’s mouth as he swallows down the lingering disappointment he can see reflected in Jere’s face. “But still, I do not come. I do not want you to think I don’t care. I want I see you in your home and be part of your life.” He hesitates slightly, then continues, quieter and less certain, “If... if that is OK.” “OK?” Bojan can’t believe those are actual words that have just left the other man’s mouth. “Jere, that’s... I... yes, I want that too. I just can’t believe it.” Jere’s phone slips from Bojan’s hand as he starts forward, hands cupping Jere’s face and reeling him in for a kiss that tastes of sleep and coffee and him all at once. It ends up not being one kiss so much as several, pressed in quick succession against Jere’s mouth as he sighs and relaxes into Bojan, combing his hair back and trailing down his neck. “I promise this is not the only time.” he murmurs against Bojan’s lips when they part for a second, foreheads pressed together. Their next kiss is deeper, starting slower than the others though it doesn’t stay that way for long as Bojan pulls Jere down again to the mattress with him. Their coffee grows cold on the bedside table, but neither of them notice.

[ollieflopkins]

what exactly happened to sterling at liverpool why he was so adamant nothing would make him stay ?

THANK YOU ANON FOR ASKING THIS and apologies for the delay!

In my original post I detailed how upsetting it was for me as a newer Liverpool fan in 2015 to go through Sterling’s transfer to City and see all the media surrounding said transfer. I was upset because 1. He was a highly sought after young talent and I didn’t want him to leave in general, 2. He left to go to City of all clubs, and 3. Everything surrounding the transfer, at least to me at the time, came down to money. And yessss all footballers do care about their bag but for a 20 year old + his team who we raised to be talking about money in the press like he was? For me it was in bad taste. But I’ll try to keep it objective.

Raheem Sterling and why he wanted to leave Liverpool, plus some insight into 2010-2015 Liverpool, below the cut.

Why did Raheem Sterling want to leave Liverpool?

Wanted to win trophies. In Dec 2012 he signed a new long term contract with us under Brendan Rodgers and was enthusiastic about his future with us. However, Sterling’s entire career at Liverpool occurred pre-Klopp/pre-modern resurgence era so we weren’t ever really competing for leagues or silverware: we won a League Cup and like…almost won the prem once lolol… but that was it for Sterling’s entire career with us 2010-2015. City 2010-2015 were in Kun Aguero era and won the FA Cup, the League Cup, the prem twice, and came in second in the prem two other times. City easily were more successful and had more money to throw around at the time (still do 😌).

Wanted his bag. In 2014, he won Golden Boy, so journalists were touting him as the current best young talent in Europe at the time. He is also making pots/poty lists and such. Obviously his stock went up like crazy then. Liverpool were also being very flexible with him and providing rest/vacation time and such to prevent him from getting exhausted, etc etc aka they were glazing Sterling and clearly wanted him to stay badly. Early 2015 and Liverpool were offering Sterling an insane contract rumored to be £100k+ / week but Rodgers also said Liverpool aren’t going to rain money on him. Sterling notoriously dragged his feet on signing and fans began to boo him at matches bc the contract negotiations were being dragged out ostensibly bc of money. Sterling and his team at this point begin to give interviews talking about turning the contract down, saying at first it isn’t about money, then saying he’s not staying at the club for any amount of money…meanwhile Rodgers is pissed bc why is their player saying anything independently of the club to the BBC. Very messy. Then the bids start coming in from City and Sterling asks not to go on the summer tour with Liverpool and misses trainings, and former players and pundits are not having this. Lots of disappointment and feelings of abandonment. Ultimately Sterling became the most expensive English player ever at the time upon his transfer to City the summer of 2015. He went from making £35k/week on his current contract at Liverpool (Liverpool were offering him £100k/week to stay) to £150k/week on the 2015-2019 contract at City. Again, this is as a 20 year old winger coming off ~3 seasons of first team at Liverpool with rough generous estimate ~15 goal contributions in the prem for his time in the first team. no european experience bc Liverpool weren’t good at the time. bag chaser 🤷🏼‍♀️

I am not saying Sterling was not a good footballer - he was quick, a good dribbler, and could always pose a threat (still can on brilliant singular occasions). Like obviously he was an extreme talent bc Liverpool were willing to pay exorbitant amounts (for our club’s standards) to keep him. Sterling has always been inconsistent though. But he shone at City and fwiw they can keep him lol in my opinion he doesn’t have much of a legacy at Liverpool. That era was about SAS first and foremost - Sturridge and Suarez - with Sterling and Coutinho for support, but yes Sterling was important. He’s no legend but he matters.

I also recognize that I don’t think Sterling has been surrounded by the right people during his career. Many young players get preyed upon and misled and mismanaged. And really maybe Liverpool just didn’t matter to Sterling that much in the end. Which then…good riddance lol. He’ll always be a rat to me and if you feel differently that’s fine.

And since he’s come to chelsea and really began his tour of the big 6 clubs in earnest, he’s been a shadow of his former self. Landing at arsenal is strange and surely undesired by Arsenal fans but who knows what Arteta is cooking. Me personally, idcccccc

[wannaeatramyeon]

hi!

could you maybe do some headcanons or a fic of taehoon with an s/o who is always outside? like they're always longboarding, biking, walking, or just chilling outside.

if you choose to do a fic, maybe center it around them being like, "well you wouldn't be so damn pale if you went outside more" whenever taehoon complains about being pale lol

thank you, have a good day!

Aww the fic idea made me feel bad for that menace. I think he's just naturally pale so would burn either way. Apologies for the long delay anon!

Seong Taehoon x Outdoorsy!Reader hc

Taehoon follows you like an anxious cat whenever you go on your outdoor adventures. Not that he is lacking any skills. In fact, it is almost certain that he'll excel at whatever physical activity you put him through, but he's almost exclusively an indoor kitty with his two (2) sole interests of Taekwondo and arcade games.

Wait, make that three because he is very interested in you.

Anyway, you know for sure that Taehoon loves you because he joins you, at all. Standing there usually in a cap for shade, slathered in sunscreen. Hey, he has pale skin that burns easily, ok. Any skin damage is on YOU.

But still, he's there like a cringey lovesick fool because a) he does genuinely want to share your activities with you and b) he is worried that you may break your ankle or something and then be left for dead.

Just to be very clear, Taehoon does not tan. He BURNS. Bless his pretty skin because you love it when you see him blush, and you also love poking fun at how weak his skin is.

Heh, here is absolutely nothing that he can do about his skin, of course. He takes your teasing goodnaturedly, grumbling a little until you piss him off enough and you earn yourself a hard forehead flick.

And yes, Taehoon is very limber. Still, he's not going to say no to you applying sunscreen on him, his chest, his back, running your hands everywhere. He will always return the favour with extra gropes too.

There's just something about you exposing your neck and full back to him that always makes him catch his breath. He thinks about doing something cheesy like writing a little message or drawing something with the lotion before kicking himself for being a loser.

(The outdoor adventures often include just minimal clothing. It's hot and sweaty out there, mmkay.)

Good luck though trying to drag Taehoon out when the weather turns cold or windy or rainy. He would much much rather stay indoors with you and that idiot will try all the tricks in the books to get you to stay put.

However, you will win in the end (you always win with him) and he will follow you reluctantly to whatever you want to do.

[rosyandraw]

Hi sweetie, same anon who asked about your future projects a few weeks ago (more specifically, 17 lol) I was supposed to send you this message when I finished the nmfy chapter but life has been kicking my ass, sorry for the delay. I loved the nmfy ending, so sweet, I love them so much! You wrote them so well, I'm so happy you were able to give them a happy ending, they deserve it.

Okay, now back to future projects (the topic in the last ask I sent), I'm obviously interested in your 2-page trigger warning project, like is it really two pages? Is it something related to more underworld themes (like mafia, prostitution, etc.) or more personal themes (like mental health and everyday life)? The fic literally hasn't even come out and I'm already dying to ask more about it lol.

Out of the 7 you mentioned (in the post), which one has the best chance of being published first? I confess that the first 4 interested me the most, because they are modern au and focus on Damen and Laurent (personally I can only like them as a couple, any other couple doesn't really appeal to me sorry :(( ).

Anyway, take your time and do everything with care and love. I admire you infinitely as an author and I am very excited to follow your future projects.

stay safe! <3

Hey lovely!

Not a problem at all hun, I am rarely on tumblr anyway haha, it’s so nice of you to pop back over though! I’m so glad you enjoyed the end of NMFY, it certainly was a long time coming from little old me, apologies

Hahaha soooo yes, it is that long! And it’s a bit of both tbh, it’s focused mostly around more personal themes (Mental Health, Hypersexuality, trauma) with quite a few darker themes such as trafficking and prostitution. It’s not a happy fic and just like in NMFY no one is an angel. Like, at all.

As I said it’s an infidelity fic so it does feature Damen/Erasmus (who is being cheated on) and Laurent/Others. It’s Laurent POV so you don’t get much D/E and all of Laurent’s scenes with people other than Damen are either throw away comments or there is something else happening that’s the focus of the scene. Those scenes aren’t given the same gratuitous graphic smut scenes Damen/Laurent get from me.

Again, I’m aware it absolutely will not be for everyone.

The kink tags alone will make sure of that because there is a lot of (17 and counting atm) unconventional kinks involved and it’s not RACK.

It’s a love story, but it’s not lovely and first and foremost it’s about Laurent’s relationship with himself.

And nah hun I get it, I will only ever write Damen/Laurent as a couple, I literally can’t ship Laurent with anyone else, Damen I can be a lil more flexible with but in that specific fic I mentioned it’s basically a FWB thing with Auguste who he met first and then he met Laurent, it’s weirdly more of a romcom than anything else? Idk haha

The Roman one will be first, literally in the next day or two, the coming (literal) of age masquerade party will be second I think. The long fic I’m gonna finish before I post so as to avoid the same issue I had with NMFY haha

Thanks my lovely, I appreciate you, I hope you have a lovely day/night/week 💕💕

[neverniko101]

Huh, well that's ominous

good thing I don't have any self preservation left!

Goes in the forest after Nm*

-Cheesecake Anon

Boy there is going to be a lot of rambling on this post- 🍂horror!dreamtale stuff included!

First things first, Cheesecake anon and @bunningchaos have designs now >:)

Please please please let me know if there’s something about the designs you’d like me to change!

(Side note: Cheesecake Anon, are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere else? This could be complete coincidence, but my name happens to be Cheesecake on literally every other social media site except this one lmao)

Second thing! I’ve already got a part two for this little comic planned out, it’s just taking me a while to art for some reason. So, no need to send asks heroically coming to the rescue, I promise Cheesecake Anon will be okay

Thiiiiiiird thing! Nightmare in his spooky form is very skittish and would usually run away from anyone instead of attacking them. Unless they have food. He’s also about 7ft tall (minus horns) on his hind legs and about 3.5 ft tall at the shoulder on all fours.

More rambling under the cut so this post isn’t super long :,)

OKAY SO

I have an idea for yet another AU that I’m getting super inspired for but I also wanna continue this one; probably what will happen is that I will alternate between that AU and this one based on how I feel! This AU is by no means stopping, please please please continue to send more asks! The other AU likely won’t be an ask blog btw, just a comic

About the AU: mermaid time

I love turning these silly skeletons into silly giant beasts of unknowable power

Just some notes I have so far:

- It will involve more of utmv, not just the Dreamtale twins lol

- I might call it Lost in the Deep? I know that’s the name of my Ink-adopting-NM AU but honestly it fits this one a lot better

- Not everyone will be a mermaid/siren/sea monster, in fact only a few

- Pirates.

- I’ve never actually done sailing or anything, so I apologize in advance if I misuse terms or something: :,)

- Refs for characters will be posted as they are seen in the comic! Please no “Will [character] be added?”

- While this won’t be an ask blog, y’all will be welcome to send me asks about the characters!

- idk if I said this before but fanart of any of my AUs is more then welcome!

Final note: this might cause a slight delay in 🍂horror!dreamtale stuff as I make refs for this! It also might not! No idea! Just don’t panic, I’m probably still alive

Anyway thanks for reading all this, adios