#and yes I will add that to the request queue

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[bigfatbimbo]

hmmmm if you’re looking for stanford smut requests….. maybe expand on ford loving pegging? maybe throw in him getting called pretty boy to really wreck him?

- 🎩 anon!

A Night to Remember

a/n — Yeah, not my best work. But oh well.

warnings — implied Fem dom, dom reader, use of a strap, pegging, sub Ford **NOT PROOFREAD

summary — Reader and Ford try out pegging for the first time.

“Are you sure about this, dear?” Ford queried for the hundredth time that night.

You were almost done setting up with prep, getting ready to slide the first finger in. His weariness was almost laughable, “Yes, i’m sure. Are you?”

He looked taken aback—sounded taken aback, as he was already on fours for you. “What? Yes! Of course, I— I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

It’s almost cute how unsure of himself he could still be, despite everything he’s been through. It’s in vulnerable moments like this you catch a glimpse of the insecure boy he once was. You try to call him down.

“So have I, baby—“ the pet name was well received, “—but you can relax. I’m gonna take good care of you.”

Your finger slipped into his asshole with ease because of the lubricant, and he shifted uneasily. “It might feel weird at first— But just get ready, sweetheart.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” was his short response.

You worked on loosening him up for a little bit before you must have hit a spot he liked, because he sucked in a breath, “Oh.”

Gaining confidence, you kept moving. Twisting your fingers in and out, drawing soft moans from Ford.

Finally, his voice wavered, “Please.”

You took that as your queue, slipping your fingers out and replacing them with your strap. 

“Brace yourself,” You say as you slide into him, drawing out a whimper of approval from Ford. “Good, good.” You praise absentmindedly, beginning to find a pace.

You steady yourself and move inside him, not too fast, but not annoyingly slow. 

“M-more,” Ford mutters, “Please, love—“

So you speed up, and you begin to drive deeper into him. First your pace unsteady, but once you find a good place, Fords legs begin to shake. His breath hitches and he gasps for the sheets, groaning slightly.

You go on like that for a little bit, before deciding to, once again, lift your pace.

Ford whines your name. 

“You’re doing so good, sweet boy,” You thrust into him, “So well behaved, so perfect.”

He whimpers into the pillow, mumbling incoherently.

“And so pretty,” you add on, drawing out a long raspy whine from Ford.

“Ah— Y/n, dear lord—“ He whines, “Close, ‘m so very close.”

You drill into him now, daring him to reach his limit, a challenge he seems to gratefully accept.

“Anytime you want, sweet boy.” 

His breathing gets ragged, back arching with every thrust, and with one final whimper he releases, before collapsing onto the mattress.

You lay there with him for a few moments after ford flips onto his back. 

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You propose.

He breathes, “I think—“ a huff “—If we want to get full use out of the strap then… maybe a second round would be.. most productive.”

[shhhsecretsideblog]

7 for the prompts, maybe a car birth?

I love a car birth, it’s such a good trope! Thanks for the request. Apparently my brain isn’t capable of simply writing a regular car birth, had to add a little twist- it’s not technically a car. Enjoy :) [3k words, fpreg, clothing birth] Prompt: “I don’t think the baby is gonna wait that long…”

We All Scream For Ice Cream

My contractions had started this morning and after three kids perhaps I should have known better. Yes they were consistent but they weren’t strong and were completely manageable. I’d called my parents to tell them my labour had started and they came to collect the kids so I didn’t have to worry about watching over them as I laboured. I spent the morning pottering around the house doing laundry and some cleaning, working through the steady waves whenever they washed over me. But after a while I started getting frustrated being inside the same four walls; I needed some air and space. It was the height of the summer holidays and you were up and out early for work to maximise our income during your busiest time of year. I knew you’d only taken the ice cream truck to the local park, you stopped going too far afield as I got closer to the end of this pregnancy - you wanted to be close in case I needed you to come home. I decided a nice walk through the park would do me good and would help with the contractions. Plus it gave me a chance to see you and let you know baby number four was on the way.

The breeze felt wonderful on my hot and clammy skin as I waddled my way down the residential streets cupping the underside of my heavy baby bump. If I pressed into the stretched skin just above my pubic bone I could feel the head of the baby sitting extremely low, perfectly in position and ready to be born. I was excited to tell you I was in labour again, maybe you could finish work early today and come help me through it this afternoon when it would inevitably ramp up.

I suffered a couple of contractions on my way to the park but they didn’t phase me - after three births I was all too familiar with the tightening and contracting of my muscles. I simply stopped, bracing my hands against a neighbours fence or a nearby street lamp, and swayed and hummed my way through them, letting the waves wash over me.

By the time I reached the park I was getting pretty hot and sweaty, but it was a warm day in the middle of summer and I was 9 months pregnant. Overheating was just par for the course. I saw your truck parked on the opposite side of the field next to the kids play area. I never thought this park was very big but right now, with my labouring belly, the journey across the green seemed a mile long. I sat on a bench to catch my breath before making the journey, watching you hand ice creams to all the kids and families that filled the park. You had such a sparkle in your eye as you handed the ice cream to its recipient, seeing the glee and excitement in each and every child’s face when they got their summery treat.

A contraction tore me away from watching you, its sharp and insistent pain coursing through my hips and legs. “Hoooooo… take it easy there…” I softly said, rubbing the large circumference of my belly as the baby kicked and shifted even lower.

A stranger walking by asked if I was okay, but with the look of panic in their face I told them it was just a kick. I didn’t get the feeling they’d handle it well if they knew a labouring mother was out here on her own in the park. After the contraction was over I awkwardly pushed myself up, cupping my low belly, and started walking over the luscious green grass. A long queue had formed for ice cream, you were busy rushing around the truck getting lolly’s out of freezers or adding sprinkles to soft whips. You didn’t have the time to notice my approach.

I thankfully didn't have a contraction as I waddled across the park but I could feel one coming as I approached the truck. I hurried past the line and nipped behind the vehicle, only just managing to make it away from the crowd before the intensity peaked. I quickly planted both palms against the truck and leaned into the contraction, taking deep long breaths, in and out, bracing through the pain and breathing the baby down. My hips were circling instinctively and I was glad no one was on this side of the ice cream truck as it would be very obvious I was in labour.

I waited for the line of customers to go down, riding out a few contractions during that time, before I rounded the corner and stood in front of the window.

“What can I get- Honey! What are you doing here?” Your eyes lit up and you broke into a wide smile, surprised but happy to see me.

“I thought I’d come and say hi.” I said, one hand rubbing my tight stomach.

“Where are the kids?” You asked, seeing that I was alone.

“With my parents.” I answered with a knowing smile, waiting to see if you’d put the pieces together.

“With your…. Wait, are you-?” Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you looked directly to my very pregnant belly.

“Yup, I’m in labour. Contractions started this… this m-morning…. Hoooooo” Another wave creeps up on me and I’m forced to grab on to the little shelf at the bottom of the window, hands gripping tight as the pain lances through my body.

You jumped out the back door of the van and were standing behind me in an instant. You held my hips and squeezed hard, pressing into the pressure points that would ease the pain, knowing exactly what I needed from our previous births. I let out a soft and grateful moan as I relaxed back into you.

“Oh honey, you could have just called, you know.” You laughed and kissed the back of my neck.

“I like seeing your reaction… hoooo…. when I tell you I’m in labour.” I manage to say, though the pains were starting to make it difficult to speak.

“What, so you can see me panic?! You’re evil, you know that.” You joked affectionately.

When the contraction faded you released your grip and I turned around, your arms quickly wrapping around me.

“Baby number four eh. So what was your plan after coming to tell me?” You said in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“I figured I’d go back home, and then call you when things get more serious.”

“How long do you reckon for this one then?”

“I dunno. It’s definitely progressing faster than the others.”

“How fast?” You arched an eyebrow and looked down at me with concern.

Before I could answer, another contraction struck. My hands laced around your neck and I buried my face in your chest, unable to contain the groan from my throat.

“Jeeze, hun, that was quick. It's okay I’ve got you.” You added, feeling my knees dip slightly. “Just ride the wave, deep breaths.”

I couldn’t speak, consumed by the heavy weight that was sinking lower and lower and lower…. My hips circled and bounced, my fingers tightly gripping each wrist as I practically hung off your sturdy frame. Your hands were on my ribs holding me steady. Groaning rumbled my throat, getting deeper as the pressure in my pelvis skyrocketed, and the noise ended with a grunt.

“Fuck, babe - was that a push?” You asked with panic, surprised at just how deep into labour I was.

“No…. I don’t think so but- hoooooo- there’s so much pressure. Baby feels really low-oooohhhhh!” I whimpered.

“Have your waters broken?” You asked and I shook my head against you in response.

“I don’t think this labour is going to last as long as you think, judging by those sounds.” You warned, your thumbs affectionately rubbing my ribs while you held me steady.

“Hooooo…. I swear it wasn’t this b-bad when I left the house…. Feels like it’s come out of nowhere.” I say, feeling the pain dull enough for me to stand on my own and release my arms from your neck.

“Well they do say it gets quicker with each birth. Right, I think we need to get you back home. Then we can pick up the hospital bag, jump in the car and drive over there.”

“I… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk back home…” I admit, holding my bump with both hands, the weight and pressure felt constant even without a contraction.

“Okay… erm… I’ll take us back in the truck?” You suggest hesitantly.

“What? No way. There’s only a driver's seat - what am I supposed to do - get in the back with the soft serve?” I gripe with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s only a few minutes back to our house. You got any better ideas?”

Another contraction steals any response I could make and I’m suddenly hunched over, hand bracing my thighs, and groaning behind closed lips. You offer your arms as support but I wave them away, the combination of heat & pressure overwhelming, I didn’t want to be touched. Instead you jumped in the truck and I could hear you banging around, closing freezer drawers and locking cabinets, but it was all background noise to me. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, the pressure between my thighs was worsening making me grunt. My fingers gripped my legs and I pushed my hips backwards, my body acting solely on instinct. Before the wave of this contraction was over I felt something give, my legs squatting, and a puddle started to form at my feet.

“Ooooohhhhh honey- my waters have broken…” I grunt out. Gosh, I could feel the baby’s head on my cervix and I really started to worry about how long we actually had before our fourth child made their appearance.

“We need to get going, babe.” You said jumping out the van and coming over to support me. We waited for the contraction to fade and you then helped me crawl into the truck. I was glad to be wearing my maternity leggings and a thin top; it made manoeuvring into the vehicle much easier than if I was in one of my summer dresses.

“Right, I’ve locked everything away so it all should stay put on the drive, you won’t get covered in ice cream don’t worry.” You try to joke as I huff and puff my way into the cramped truck. “Why don’t we get you sitting down on the floor..?” You suggest, climbing in after me to try to help me get comfortable.

“Ooohhhh no… can’t sit down. Baby too low… fuck.” Crawling on my hands and knees I settle near the large rectangular freezer that was directly under the window booth. Staying on my knees I sit back on my heels and rest my arms on my legs, my bump sitting between my widened thighs. “I’ll just… stay like this. Drive carefully though…”

“Of course I will, precious cargo.” You said with a smile before giving me a kiss.

You shut the back doors of the ice cream truck behind you when you left, ran around to the driver’s seat and quickly started the engine. “Hold on sweetie, we’ll be home soon.” You said, putting it into gear and setting off.

We barely made it out of the park and onto the tarmac road before the next contraction struck, and without my waters it soon became apparent just how close this baby was to being born. Leaning forward and grasping the top ridge of the freezer in front of me, I tried to breath through the building pressure that was pulling and squeezing my insides. My moaning was instinctual at this point, my body’s way of riding the crashing waves of pain. Whether it was the motion of the truck or my kneeling position, but something triggered a need to push. At the end of each groan I could feel my body bearing down.

“H-how long to get to the h-hospital once we get h-home?” I stutter.

“Hospital is about 35 minutes from our house. Why?”

“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long…. Hooooo…” I breathe, hips lifting and rocking in circles just above my feet. “Go straight to hospital, don’t go via home….”

“But we don’t have any of the stuff, for you or the baby?” You question, but still follow the instruction immediately altering our journey.

“Doesn’t-matter-nnngghhhhhh!” I gruff out before lowing deeply, bearing down again, my knuckles turning white with my grip on the freezer.

“Are you pushing??!!!” You shout.

“Can’t-help-it-”

“Shall I pull over?” You panic at hearing the familiar sounds of me pushing a baby down.

“No! Just- hospital- now!” My head dips as the wave ends and I try to catch my breath in between contractions.

We were still navigating the residential streets so thankfully weren’t going fast, but that meant we were still a way off from the hospital outside of town. My knees wide on the floor and arms stretching up gripping the fridge were the only thing keeping my body and my mind grounded. I closed my eyes, taking long deep breaths and disappeared into myself. Stay calm, you've done this before, I told myself.

“How we doing?” You asked nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Just… drive…” I exhaled heavily, preparing myself for the next wave to hit.

And hit it did; suddenly every part of my being squeezed and screamed at me to push and I had no choice but to comply. My legs widened as far as they’d go, I pulled my body closer towards the fridge, lifting myself up and hanging off the ridge with my forearms. The head was starting to peek through, I could feel it, and there was no way I could hold off from bearing down. My hips tilted backward and I pushed with everything I had. A long and guttural moan sang from my lungs as I pushed, the head slowly crowning into my underwear. We weren’t going to make it!

“Stop!!!!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

“But-”

“The head-is-coming out…. Pull over now!”

The truck rocked and shuddered as you brought it to a halt. You sprang from the driver’s seat and on your way accidentally switched on the jingle sounds of the ice cream truck, the tune ringing from the speakers on the roof.

I barely noticed the doors to the truck being opened and closed, or you climbing inside - all my energy was focused solely on getting this baby out of me.

“What can I do?” You frantically asked, but only got more guttural noises in reply as I continued to bear down.

Releasing the push with a huff, I panted quickly saying “I think it’s crowning… hoooo…”

“We need to get those leggings off babe. Are you able to move? If you can get on all fours I should be able to roll them down.” You were as white as a sheet but you squashed your fears, knowing I’d need assurance and confidence right now.

Following your instructions I moved to all fours, and I soon felt your hands around my waist pulling at the tight fabric trying to roll it over the large bump and down my thighs. We had to stop part way for another contraction and another round of pushing. The baby’s head was stretching me so wide and I could tell it must be showing through the fabric when I heard you gasp.

“Oh my god, the head is coming out!” You exclaimed.

“I know that! I can feel it.” I snipped sarcastically.

“Sorry honey. You’re doing amazing. But I still need to get these leggings off you…”

I grunt, bearing down once more with the contraction, and I can feel the resistance of the baby hitting the wall of my stretched leggings. When the push was over I cried out “Go! Do it now!” and you scrambled at the waistband of my clothing and rolled the elasticated fabric down my damp thighs.

“Do you want me to take them completely off?” You asked but I could barely think, the next wave was already here and all I could do was push.

I wanted to widen my knees, to open up my burning hips to make the required space for the baby to pass through, but the tight fabric of the leggings pulled around my knees was preventing any further movement. I whimpered in my struggle; I needed to open my body wider and push but I simply couldn’t. In my desperation I went from my hands down to my elbows, my forehead touching the floor, my backside raised to the sky and I pushed with everything I had. I needed to get the head out and I had to get it out now.

“Easy babe,” you said softly, and I could feel your hand over the baby’s emerging head. “Take it steady, it’s crowning. Try and pant if you can, let it come on its own.”

“Hooohooo- oh fuck- I need to get it out…. Can’t hold off- oh I need to push!” I screamed.

Before you could tell me otherwise my body jerked as the head popped out and I groaned at the relief. Lifting my head slightly I bring a trembling hand down my body and between my thighs to feel - your hands were there too, cupping the newly born head of our child. You moved, letting me feel - the ears the nose, the hair - our baby. Your fingers then gently stroked the back of my hand, no words were said as our hands entwined, squeezing each other. The love, encouragement and support all conveyed within that squeeze.

We were suddenly startled by a gentle knocking on the window booth.

“Hey mister, can I have an ice cream please?” The excited voice of a child said from outside the truck.

With the delirium and exhaustion of childbirth I couldn’t help but laugh. You heard my hitched breathing, worried I was crying, and asked “Babe, what is it? Are you okay?”

My laughs got a bit more distinguished as I raised back up onto my hands and twisted to look at you. “This is one hell of a birth story…” I giggled.

“Ha. Maybe this one will take over the family business.” You joke, relieved to see me smiling during this eventful and inconvenient birth. “Sorry kid, no ice cream today.” You shouted through the walls of the truck.

“Oooo- hoooo- babe… mnggghhhh… it’s coming….” I shift and grunt, bracing both hands on the floor and surrendering to the contraction once more. “Fuck… why didn’t we take my leggings off!?”

“Keep going babe, the shoulders are coming. You can do it. Yes!… one shoulder…”

“Grrrrhhhhhhhh!!!!” I groaned loud and long, pushing through the excruciating stretch of the shoulders.

“…two shoulders… and again push honey push!!!!”

“Mnnnghhhh- catch it!!!” I screamed, and a second later the baby fell into your waiting hands and instantly cried.

Tears sprang from my eyes at the sound and I immediately twisted my body and legs around so you could hand me the babe.

“It’s a girl.” You said proudly, putting the slippery newborn against my chest.

“Hi baby… hi.” I cooed, lifting my thin t-shirt and placing her against my chest. “You were in a hurry weren’t you.”

[bangtanficsforyou]

Hello, Love! (JJK)-02

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don’t know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister’s fiance wasn’t it.

Word count: 5.6K (approx)

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

I'll add all the links in a few days time!

It’s six in the morning when the doorbell rings.

Hurried footsteps make their way through the hallway and to the main door. The door is opened to reveal a long queue of people and one by one, everyone starts filling in. Anyone could have been fooled into thinking that this was afternoon.

The quiet apartment is now filled with excited greetings and a constant low murmur in the background.

Now it finally looks like there’s a wedding in the house, Jungkook’s mother thinks silently, with a small, satisfied smile. 

“Can’t believe our Jungkook is getting married!”

“I know right! I’m so glad that it’s a love marriage!”

“Have you looked at Riya’s photos? She’s so pretty.”

Had it been in Busan, I would have booked the costliest bungalow for them. But no, they wanted a destination wedding. Jungkook’s father thinks as he looks at the newly arrived guests chatting among themselves.   

Don’t get it wrong, the rented apartment is more than sufficient. But excuse him for his thinking. It’s his youngest son’s wedding after all. The father in him wanted to put the connections he has made over the years as the police commissioner, to good use.

“I am thinking of wearing red on the day of the wedding and saving the yellow for the reception.”

“I am confused as to what I should do with my hair.”

“We can simply book a stylist for a few days.”

I need to be out of here, comes the big conclusion in Jina, Jungkook’s sister in law’s, mind.

Her lack of patience could be credited to the fact that she is five months pregnant.

Jina is undoubtedly happy about the occasion of Jungkook’s marriage. How can she not be? Jungkook is like her own little brother, after all. But please excuse her for not wanting to be a part of the conversation as to who’s wearing what, when she feels like a boiled potato.

Jungkook will take care of this, Ju Hyun thinks, the moment his eyes meet his wife's. After seven years of marriage, one becomes an expert at deciphering their partner's expressions. 

Ju Hyun looks at Jungkook, who's currently been crowded by the kids. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook looks up, and silently sighs to have found an excuse to escape. 

“Yes, hyung?”

“Please take Jina out for some fresh air.”

Jungkook looks at his sister in law, and the reason behind his elder brother's request becomes very visible to him. 

“Why can't you take her out?” Jungkook whispers. 

“I have a case file I need to go through.” Comes Ju Hyun’s short and simple reply.

Before Jungkook can reply, his phone rings to notify him of an incoming call. 

Riya. 

“Can you come to hotel Delta?” Greets the voice as soon as Jungkook answers the call. 

“Hotel Delta? Where is it?” Jungkook asks. 

“I'll send you the address and please try to be as quick as possible. I need to go back to shooting.”

“Don’t worry, I'll be there in ten minutes,” Jungkook promises, even before checking where and how far the destination is. 

As he ends the call, two expectant gazes, meet him. One that of Ju Hyun’s and the other that of Jina’s. 

Oh right.

“Sinu-i, don't worry–,” Jungkook does a quick scan of the room and his eyes halt when they land on Jimin, relaxing with a cup of tea in his hand, “–Jimin will accompany you.”

Jimin looks perplexed, having no clue why his name just got mentioned.

Jungkook spots a fast-pacing Riya and curses in his mind, knowing damn well he’s late. In his defence, it isn’t an easy task to get out of a house full of relatives. Not to mention the traffic.

“So, this is your ten minutes?” Riya asks on spotting Jungkook, with a face that clearly reads that she is not impressed at all.

“I’m sorry, there was a whole lot of traffic on the way.”

Riya sighs and motions Jungkook to follow her. “Suzy called me, apparently no venues are available on the date you suggested.”

A frown appears on Jungkook’s face. “Is that so? But that date is very auspicious for marriage. It comes once every seven million years.”

A scoff. “Seven million years ago only dinosaurs got married.”

It takes Jungkook a moment to realise that it wasn’t Riya who spoke the words.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he will drop you off.”

“Hello,” Jungkook greets politely, waiting for you, who's sitting comfortably, to look up from the menu card. 

“Hi,” you look up and give Jungkook a brief curt nod and return to the pages of the menu card.

YOU. It’s you!!!! Jungkook’s mind exclaims. The t20 girl.

“You drop her off at the address I mentioned, there you will find Stuart. Stuart will take Y/N to the hotel,” Riya gives off the instructions and quickly bids her goodbye.

Jungkook looks around a little, feeling awkward and a little clueless as to what he should do now. Seeing that you are so invested in the menu card, he decides to take a seat and ask you whether you would like to have something.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“An espresso with a shot of cream,”

The quick and brief answer surprises Jungkook. He blinks and waits for something more–what, he does not quite know (well, maybe you looking at him and acknowledging him would have been nice).

Pushing his surprise aside, he orders two coffees.

He looks around some more, because you refuse to leave the menu card even now. Out of curiosity, he subtly leans in and takes a peak to figure out what could be so interesting in those pages.

Huh? There is nothing out of the ordinary.

Are you perhaps memorising the prices of each item?

Well, shouldn’t you be showing a little more interest in someone you met seven years ago?

Jungkook averts his eyes like a thief being caught in action, when you flip the page. He sighs in relief though when he realizes that you have not caught into his little peaking. However, just moments later he feels stupid because what exactly is he doing?

“Do you remember we met seven years ago?” The question slips out from Jungkook’s mouth with a hint of hope and excitement.

You look up.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

And then you are back to your beloved menu card.

“T20 cricket? Remember we talked about the different formats of cricket?” Jungkook pushes, hoping something would click.

You look up, again.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

Jungkook deflates. Your eyes were blank. You truly do not recognize him.

Minutes pass as the order arrives and both of you have sips from your beverages. Surprisingly and much to Jungkook’s annoyance, your attention has now shifted to the view outside as you peer through the window right next to your seat.

“Shall we leave?” Jungkook queries as soon as both of you are done.

You give a nod and before Jungkook can even get up, you have your luggage on your shoulders and are heading out through the door.

Jungkook remains astonished with his mouth parted slightly as he looks at your retreating figure.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one guiding you out?

He shakes that thought away and quickly gets up with the intention of catching up with you before you get lost.

The car is filled with awkward silence. Thankfully, it does not bother Jungkook anymore. He has gotten used to it but for some reason, Jungkook finds it a little disappointing.

Maybe his excitement was simply rooted in the fact that he was meeting someone he never expected to meet again, that too after seven whole years.

Or maybe a small childish part of him thought, you two would hit it off again, like you did the last time. Maybe he had also entertained the idea of you two becoming good friends. With Riya being a common link between the two of you that thought was not much farfetched.

Wait. How do you and Riya know each other?

Jungkook looks at you but right as he’s about to voice his curiosity, your phone rings.

His eyes focus back on the road, with the knowing that he will have to wait to ask the question.

” Fāshēngle shénme?”

Huh?

“Gàosù tāmen wǒ hěn kuài jiù huì gěi tāmen qián.”

Is that…..Mandarin?

“Qǐng bǎozhòng.” You end the call.

It is Mandarin!

“You know how to speak Mandarin?” Forgotten is the question about the connection between you and Riya. Your fluency with the foreign language now has his attention.

You look at Jungkook and nod. Then you are back staring out of the window.

Huh? Do you only speak with nods? And what is with you and staring out of windows? Jungkook thinks, his annoyance sparking again.

“I think this is the place,” Jungkook announces, after ten more minutes of driving. Having stopped the car, he looks around through his window.

The sound of a car door opening echoes and Jungkook is startled to find that you are already out of the passenger seat. As you open the back door to take out your luggage, he quickly speaks, “Wait, let me call Stuart.”

“No need, I can see him,” you answer confidently.

Jungkook frowns in confusion and watches as you cross the road and pause in front of a short young man. Quickly taking out the number Riya had given him, he dials it.

To his relief, it is the man across the street that picks it up.

“Stuart?

“Speaking.”

“Take ma’am to the hotel carefully and make sure she has everything she might require.”

Jungkook thinks that for a brief moment, Stuart looked confused. But he ignores it thinking, he cannot be sure about a man’s expressions from across the street. With a confirmation from Stuart, he ends the call.

He waits in his car until the both of you are out of sight.

With a sigh of relief, he starts the car engine. As the tires get moving, his thoughts drift to you and how odd of an encounter it was.

He would have said you were not your usual self but then what does he even know about you? The only interaction he has had with you prior to this was seven years ago, a conversation that lasted for about ten minutes. People change. Maybe you did. Or maybe you were always like this and that one particular evening you happened to feel chatty.

Who knows.

As he turns off the engine after having parked his car in the garage, his phone pings.

Riya: Thanks :)

A content smile spreads over Jungkook’s face and forgotten is the weird encounter he just had with you.

TWO DAYS LATER

 “Your letter is T.”

The groom’s side discusses among themselves as to who would continue the game further with the letter T.

“Aunty, why don’t you sing two lines?” Seema, the bride’s sister suggests.

Jungkook’s mother visibly shies at the suggestion and mutters a bunch of ‘No’s to deny the request. This only urges the bride’s team to request her even more.

After much hesitation, Jungkook’s mother takes a hold of the mic. However, the moment the microphone is in her hands a look of determination spreads over her features and a switch is flipped on.

…….and then takes place the onset of a classical song.

Both the teams are equally caught off guard by the sudden change of……atmosphere.

Jungkook, who was watching from a distance, finds great amusement at the scene unfolding in front of him. People find out about his mom’s expertise in classical music in the funniest of ways.

Knowing pretty well that the classical music will go on for some time, he decides to take a little stroll around the place. Since, Jungkook’s extended family have finally arrived, tonight is supposed to be a grand celebration of the engagement.

Some ten minutes later, he finds himself in a small circle of men involving a few of Riya’s industry friends.

“Shooting has been incredibly hectic these days,” groans Vikram.

“Last day, we shot till four in the morning,” adds Chris.

“With how busy the schedule is, I am just thankful that I can attend Riya’s marriage,” Jay, a rather close friend of Riya’s , comments.

Jungkook hums and nods along, only adding words when required.

“Isn’t that Trisha?” Vikram queries, squinting his eyes to figure out if his guess is right or wrong.

“Yes, it is,” Jay confirms.

“Oh god, she is drunk. Hope she does not cause a scene.” Chris’s words have the opposite effect as at that very moment, Trisha collides with a waiter and causes the tray of mocktail he was carrying to fall on the ground.

“You can never trust Trisha and Y/N to not cause trouble.”

“Y/N?” The mention of your name takes Jungkook by surprise. Why are you getting mentioned out of nowhere? And how do Riya’s friends know you?

“You have not heard of Y/N? She is Riya’s younger sister.”

Okay, whoa, Jungkook did not see this coming.

“Y/N is Riya’s sister?” Jungkook asks, just in case he had heard things wrong.

“Yeah, they are five sisters, Seema, Kriti, Riya, Neena and Y/N.”

He is well familiar with the other four names. He has met them, talked to them and sees them quite often at family occasions. But, you? You are the fifth sister?

The noises around Jungkook fade as his mind processes this newfound information.

He did not think that his curiosity about your and Riya’s connection would be answered this way and that you would turn out to be Riya’s sister.

Jungkook has been trying his best to sleep.

His attempt, so far, has remained unsuccessful.

His mind has been going in circles about you.

It’s not like he didn’t know that Riya has four sisters. But he knew the one sister who he had never had the opportunity to meet with, as Mita. To add to that, he had never seen a single picture that you were a part of.

The name Mita is still explainable. Maybe that’s a nickname given to you by your family. But what makes Jungkook feel doubtful is your reason for absence. Common knowledge was you were abroad studying and doing research work. You were busy and never got the time to pay a visit.

But Jungkook doubts that someone going abroad would leave their home the way you did; climbing over a wall. And for some reason, he is sure that, that was the day you left because you are only back now. Had you visited before, Jungkook is sure that he would have known.

 However, now your presence that day made sense to him. You were the bride’s sister.

Bride’s sister climbs over the wall and takes a cab to the airport on the day of the wedding. In no world does that sound normal.

Jungkook turns around, pulls the blanket up to his chest, stares at the wall and sighs.

This whole thinking and trying to figure out why he did not know you were Riya’s sister, any sooner is only an attempt to cover up and ignore the fact that he is worried.

But can he really be blamed? How can he not be worried?

Dropping off your fiancé’s friend to a place is one thing and dropping off your fiancé’s sister to a place totally unknown to him is one thing.

Are you eating alright? Are the services there good? Is the place clean?

Jungkook sighs again.                                                         

Fuck this.

He removes the blanket, puts on a shirt and grabs his car keys.

He needs to know for sure that the place you are staying at is good and safe. Maybe then, he will be able to sleep peacefully.

HAPPY GUEST HOUSE.

The signboard reads. Except, the ‘A’ and ‘O’ are missing and the signboard is crooked.

It isn’t just the signboard though. It is also the overall isolated aura this place has, that makes Jungkook wish he had checked the place you were staying at while dropping off.

Still, he checks the address on his phone one last time, hoping that he has got the wrong place and that you are not actually staying here. The address on his screen, however, remains unchanged, confirming that this indeed is the place.

With a sigh, he walks in through the gate. Ain’t no way he is letting you stay here any longer.

“Miss Y/N,” he gives your name to the guy at the reception, who looks barely awake.

The guy looks at Jungkook and takes out a register.

Register? A DAMN REGISTER?!!!! Who even uses a register these days? This place does not even have a computer!!!!

“Room 112,” the receptionist guy informs, after flipping through some pages.

Jungkook keeps standing there. However, when the receptionist just goes to sit on a chair and yawns, Jungkook loses it. “What do you mean by room 112? An unknown man is asking you for a woman’s room number and you just give it? Don’t even ask how I am related to her, don’t even care that I might just go up to her room right now. What on earth is wrong with you?”

The guy is the least bit bothered. “Do you want to meet her or not?”

Oh, fuck it. Arguing with the guy is useless.

Without another word, he climbs the flight of stairs to find room number 112. Thankfully, it hardly takes him only a minute or so to find your room.

He raises his fist and knocks on the door. However, after the very first knock, he realizes that the door is unlocked.

Gently pushing the door open, he turns on his mobile’s flashlight and calls your name. “Y/N?”

No response.

“Y/N, it is Jungkook.”

No response.

“Y/N, if you are here-“

Then he spots you. You’re sleeping on the floor, all curled up from the cold.

“Y/N?” he kneels down and gently shakes you by your arms, to wake you up. “Y/N? Please wake up.”

“Mm?” You make a small noise at the back of your throat, and slowly, very slowly open your eyes.

“Get up and pack your bags.”

You’re still not fully awake and it takes you a moment to process what he is saying. “Why?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“Idiot, what kind of a place did you take my guest to?” At some point, Jungkook just could not take it anymore and ended up calling Stuart, to give him an earful. “Forget about good services, there is no security!”

“Sir, I am sure they let you in because you look like someone from a good family,” comes Stuart’s reply, from the other side.

Jungkook scoffs, finding so many flaws in that logic. “Do you have any idea the amount of mosquitoes that are there in this place? What if she had caught dengue?”

“Sir, don’t worry, the dengue mosquitoes don’t bite at night.”

“Oh yes, malaria is so much of a better option,” Jungkook replies sarcastically and cuts the call.

“Mosquitoes don’t bite me,” you offer in a soft voice.

“I am sorry, Y/N. Had I known this was the place, I would have never let you stay here,” Jungkook apologizes for the umpteenth time.

You offer him a small smile and shake your head. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

You both walk to his car and get in. Once inside, Jungkook offers if you’d like to listen to some music, which you politely decline.

“Did you have dinner?” He asks, wondering if he should make a pit stop on his way to a food outlet.

You reply with a small nod of your head, letting him know that there is no need for that.

As the car gets moving, you sigh and relax in the passenger seat. The roads are empty, which is to be expected considering it’s well past midnight. A result of which, is the cool breeze that hits your face, something that you admittedly find really enjoyable.

You see the roads passing by and it suddenly occurs to you that you are out in your hometown after a really long time–seven years to be exact. The roads feel the same except for the fact that they are entirely different.

The place reminds you of the days when you were younger and–

You take a deep inhale, trying to distract your thoughts from going in that direction.

In the last couple of days, you have surely been out of that little dingy place that runs under the name of a hotel but you were never out like this. Maybe that is why thoughts and feelings you have wanted to avoid and bury, are trying to say their ‘hello’s to you.

“Actually,” you begin in a soft mumble, “some music would be nice.”

“Sure,” Jungkook turns on the radio and soon a soft melody fills the air.

Thankfully, the music does serve as a sweet distraction as you refuse to focus on anything but counting the rhythmic drum beats, blocking any other thoughts and feelings in the process.

Unbeknownst to you, at some point your eyes start feeling heavy and you start dozing off. You would never admit it out loud, not even to yourself, but you hadn’t been getting good sleep the past few days. And for some reason, the car seats seem really comfortable to you.

What wakes you up after what could possibly have been ages, is a soft call of your name. You slowly open your eyes and with a blurry vision register that Jungkook is speaking to you.

“We are here,” the words reach your ears and you let out a small hum.

With steps like that of a drunk man–or mayhaps that of a toddler–you blindly follow Jungkook into the building. If someone were to ask you what floor the elevator stopped at, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

When you both enter the apartment, you hardly take your environment into consideration and speak rather loudly; “Can I have–“

A hand abruptly clamps down on your mouth and causes the rest of your words to come out muffled. The next thing you know, you are being dragged into a different room.

The sudden movements are enough to clear your drowsiness and you’re back in your full senses.

“Shhh,” Jungkook for the first time tonight, looks annoyed. “People are sleeping. You will wake them up.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, realising your mistake. “I just need a wet towel.”

Jungkook nods, about to get you what you just asked for but then pauses to look at you. “Wet towel? A dry won’t work? Just soak it in water.”

“That will work too.”

He nods again and opens a cupboard to fetch a towel. “By the way, what will you do with a wet towel?”

“Placing a wet towel on your stomach kills hunger.”

Jungkook is perplexed at your words and the annoyed frown on his face, melts into that of disbelief. “I asked you whether you had dinner or not.”

“This is the only place that is open at this time.” These are the words that Jungkook introduces the small street-side restaurant, with. “One thing I can assure you is, the food doesn’t disappoint.”

You give a small shy nod, feeling guilty for letting it slip that you indeed did not have dinner. In your defense, you really did not think it was necessary to meet the needs of your empty stomach. The other two nights, the wet towel technique worked just fine.

“I’d have survived the night you know,” you offer lightly as a joke but actually meaning it.

“I know you would have,” Jungkook offers and for some reason, the reply shuts you up.

As you both occupy the seats of a two-seater table, you realise that the entire place is empty except for a young couple occupying one of the corner seats.

“Butter chicken and chicken chow mein are the only two food items available at this time,” the waiter informs, looking like he is ready to retire for the day.

“Two half chicken chow mein,” you decide.

“I won’t eat—,” Jungkook is cut off by your feet harshly slamming on his, under the table.

“Two half chow mein,” you confirm. Once the waiter is gone you lean forward and whisper, “Two halves are always more than one full.”

Jungkook’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he nods in understanding, admittedly impressed by your little tips and tricks.

The time it takes for you to finish the two half plates of chowmein is embarrassingly short. It briefly makes Jungkook wonder whether you had anything to eat yesterday—as a matter of fact, the day before yesterday—but he decides not to dwell on it. He makes peace with the fact that you will go to bed today with a full stomach.

Once you’re done, you release a sigh, almost having forgotten to breathe in the process. Sometimes, you don’t realise how hungry you actually were unless you have filled your stomach to the brim.

“Thank you.” You speak, genuinely grateful for everything that Jungkook has done for you.  

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “Next time, just be honest if you’re hungry.”

The words cause you to let out a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once the bills are paid, and you have had your fair share of collecting the sugar coated fennel seeds in a napkin, the both of you find yourselves back inside the car for a third time tonight.

This time, there is no music and you don’t feel a need for a distraction either.

Your mind is rather occupied with the events of today and what it means for your tomorrow.

You didn’t think things would take a turn like this but admittedly it makes it easier for you to accomplish what you came for. The only thing you perhaps feel guilty for, is causing Jungkook trouble. Heck, you are not even sure whether Riya knows that Jungkook has offered for you to stay in his place.

Actually, you know. There’s no way Riya knows about it. Had she known, you wouldn’t have been sitting here.

The thought makes you briefly look at Jungkook and you suddenly find yourself feeling sorry for all the trouble you’re undoubtedly going to cause between him and Riya. But more than the guilt, you feel grateful for his kindness.

Jungkook seems to have a very genuine, welcoming aura. Despite everything he has done for you, you have not felt as if he is doing a favour on you. He seems like the kind of person who would tell you on your face, if he was annoyed or if you were being too much. That saves you from the guessing game.

Maybe if you were not in so much of a rush to leave, you and Jungkook would have made good friends.

When you leave, you should probably leave a thank you gift for him, as a token of your appreciation.

Your train of thought is broken by the sound of a hiccup.

“I am–,” a hiccup, “–sorry.” Jungkook apologises, feeling a little shy.

“It’s okay.” You make a mental note to offer him a bottle of water at the next signal.

However, after the fifth hiccup, a soft mumble of the word Riya reaches your ears and you soon realise it is repetitive in between each hiccup.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.

Jungkook glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “It is said you get hiccups when someone is thinking of you and who else could be thinking of me, but Riya? So, I am taking her name in hopes that the hiccups go away.”

“In that case you should definitely take my name,” you suggest. “From the moment that I have sat in the car, I have been thinking of you.”

Jungkook looks at you once again, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty but then decides to take up on your suggestion.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

You tsk and shake your head. “You see, a hiccup is essentially an involuntary spasm of the diaphragm which causes sudden closure of the epiglottis which creates the ‘hic’ sound.”

“And the remedy for that is to just let it be, but if it lasts too long, take medicines like maloperidol, nanoclopramide and florpromazine, which isn’t in the car–” your chew on your nails briefly, recalling other solutions, “–there is another way....it is called the swimmer’s remedy.”

You press the tip of your little fingers against your nostrils, blocking the free passage of air. Simultaneously, you widen your eyes, stick out your tongue and exhale loudly.

“But you can’t do that either, because you’re driving,” you murmur, more so to yourself.

Well, minus the hand placement and the tongue, Jungkook’s eyes are fairly as wide as yours were.

“And the third way is–”, you sneak a glance at Jungkook to ensure that his eyes are focused on the road. Out of nowhere, your hands take a hold of the steering and you swiftly turn it in the other direction causing the car to take a sudden turn.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU INSANE?!”

You release your grip and look at him, mildly apologetic. “The third method is shock.”

Jungkook looks confused, the suddenness of your movements still having its effect on him. However, after a few moments of silence, Jungkook puts a hand on his stomach and realizes that the hiccups are indeed gone!

The realisation causes him to chuckle. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nope,” you reply, shaking your head, glad that you could be of help. A few beats later, you speak again. “By the way, do you remember we met seven years ago? T20 cricket?”

The turn of Jungkook’s head towards you is a slow one and he wonders if you really did say that.

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

[does-it-introject]

... is an account dedicated to introjects, fictives, factives, faitives, songtives, ... tives!

Here's the basic idea: Each post includes a source and a poll; if your system has someone from the source you go 'YES', if not you go 'NO'. If you're not plural you go 'RESULTS'.

Why? Because I think this is fun. Don't take it serious! Don't think too hard about it! You can even use it to find source mates if you want? All up to you!

"Oh but [NAME] what counts as "from the source"?" "Do fictionkin count?" "Does ... count?" YES. Everything counts, if you want. Don't think! Just press little buttons and clarify or don't clarify in your reblog if you want! I'm not gonna limit your button pressing experience!

Is there a DNI? No! It's a poll account. Who cares about who interacts. Just don't go around being an asshole and we're fine!

Requests are always open! Unless they're closed!

Yes, the profile is the fictive flag, but this account is for all of you tiny beings; I just really love this flag so... yea man!

Curious about the Queue: Check This Out!!!

Small, growing QNA below the cut!!

"Can you add a button for 'unsure' / 'used to' / 'maybe' / 'not interacted with source'?" - I appreciate the questions, but I'd prefer to keep the polls limited to these options! I get the frustration though. Just click whichever option feels right to you, and if neither feels right you can always click 'RESULTS'.

"How many requests can we send it?" - Go crazy! Go wild! Send 100 requests in one ask or 100 requests in 100 single asks! I don't mind either way!

"Are there any requesting rules?" - My only condition is: do NOT expect me to know what "TIAEOWNTDLOL" means as an acronym. Write the full name, I beg of you, my oh so dear requester. I had to delete three asks because I had no idea what the letters meant. Extra Note: I give you a cookie if you write (game / show / band) in your request.

"Are there any forbidden sources?" - No, where's the fun in that? Request whichever! Also, yes, factive sources are absolutely welcome and appreciated here as well! Adult sources are okay as well, but will be tagged accordingly to keep the younger people safe!

"Do you respond to asks?" *- Not directly no! It's easier for me to keep track of which requests I have done and which not. Usually theres multiple folks sending in the same questions, so they'll be answer here; so make sure to check this regularly! It would also just spam my account if I answered every single one whoops!

"Can I request a source you already made a poll about?" - Yes, if the original poll is atleast a month old! I will let it rerun if people want it!

"Can singlet fictionkin / IRLs / ... vote in the polls?" - Sure, if you want! You guys are just as cool as everyone else so go ahead and press that little button!

"Can you post more polls a day?" - People keep asking this, actually! So: I upped it, from 2 to 4. Please be patient with your requests! I do not want to spam the tags with polls that not everyone might want to see. 4 is the maximum posts a day. Okay? Yea!

"Can you please update queue?" - I try my best to update it every weekend! I barely have time during the week and I get atleast 30 requests a day so it's hard to keep track of everything! I'm working on a new way to keep track of queue though so please be patient! If you're unsure if your request has sent, feel free to send it again, and again and again! I'm bound to see it at some point!

[finniestoncrane]

Queen of My Heart

Gotham!Mad Hatter x Female!Reader, word count: 2k commission: jervis and his partner roleplay as the hatter and the queen of hearts commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, dom!reader, penetration, clean-up

With a smug smirk and a gentle twirl, you shimmied around and settled back to looking at yourself. You winked at the reflection in the mirror as you straightened the plush, shimmering crown on your head. There were only a few minor adjustments to make on your costume, teasing out fabric creases, smoothing down the skirt of the dress, feathering the softer, fluffy ruffles of the underskirt to make it plumper. All of it to make sure that everything was perfect for this evening. Standing back to appreciate the look in its entirety, you smiled at how well it had all come together, even before the entire look was finished. You were definitely displaying a look of regal power, of authority as the Queen, The Queen of Hearts. The Queen of Jervis’ heart. Once you had slid your feet, clad in white, knee high stockings, into the buckled pumps, you once more approached the mirror closely and pulled a tube of lipstick from the dresser. A bright red shade, perfect for the final piece. You drew a small heart over your lips with it and filled it in, ready to stamp the shape across Jervis’ cheeks when he made his appearance.

And right on queue, he appeared in the doorway, blushing instantly as he took in the sight of you, his eyes drawing upward from your shoes to the crown, a shocked smile, mouth open in disbelief as his dreams began to come true right there in front of him.

“You’re not saying anything, Jervis. That has me worried. I know it’s not accurate to the books and is perhaps a little more inspired by the Disney movie, but this is the best it’s going to get. So, could you just say something? Or do you hate it?”

He shook his head, soft curls bouncing with the movement as he did so. You could see his knuckles whitening, the grip on the brim of his top hat, which he held bashfully in front of him, strengthening as he tried to keep his focus on you, tried not to lose his cool before they had even begun.

“No, no, my dear. I’m simply taking you in and giving you the respectful attention you deserve. Besides, I might add, you have taken my breath away.”

Sinking into your role, you did your best to maintain the noble qualities of a Queen in charge as you took a careful, slow step towards Jervis, followed by another, and another, as you crossed the floor towards him. He placed his top hat back on his head, a different one to his usual outfit. He was dressed up too, slightly different, taking on the role of the Mad Hatter from fiction, as opposed to the Mad Hatter of reality that he was. Swallowing the lump of nerves in his throat, he sank backwards into the wall as you stood before him, feeling his insides tingling, his skin prickling with heat as he flushed with desire.

“Well? Aren’t you going to kneel before your Queen? It’s not very gentlemanly of you to stand there and gawk at me, after all.”

With a thud, Jervis immediately fell to his knees before you, staring up at you with large, dark, brown eyes, pleading for more of this, your exertion of power over him.

“Yes, my Queen! My most humble apologies!”

Arching his back, his sweet, small rear in the air, he bent as low as he could, his face on the ground, cheek pressed to the cold floor. He turned, lifting his chin slightly, eyes looking up with a hopeful glint as he wondered if he’d done enough. You were more than pleased, but kept your face neutral, waiting to see what else he might offer you. And, with a slight hesitation, Jervis pressed his lips to the toe of your shoe and placed a delicate kiss to it.

When he looked back to you, he noticed the pleased smile, slightly easing into your cheeks, and knew he was onto something. Another kiss he placed on the front of your foot, one more on your ankle, further and further up as he held your legs, his palms skimming over your skin, over the intriguing texture of the socks you wore. Ruffling up the hem of your skirt and underskirt, his hands found their way to your ass, cupping at the back of your cheeks as he kissed the front of your thighs. All the while, you tried to balance yourself in midair, your body succumbing quickly to Jervis’ worship, twitching and convulsing completely when he placed one long, lingering kiss to the front of your underwear.

With his lips pressed so close to you, he could feel your heat, his nose buried into your skin inhaling the scent, the wet spot that only grew the longer he stayed there dampening his lips even through the fabric. Pulling back, he shot a glance in your direction, trying to avoid the scrutiny of your glare as you wondered silently why he had stopped when you were obviously enjoying it.

“Perhaps, dear Queen of Hearts, I could apologise properly. Make it up to you, in a way.”

Pondering only briefly, you nodded your head, carefully so as not to knock your crown askew.

“I think that would be wise, Hatter.”

With your permission, he stroked his finger down the front of your panties, hooking it under the lining and pulling them to the side, exposing your cunt to him. Jervis leaned in, slowly, his breath hot against your sensitive mound, but he found himself being pulled back by your hand, knocking his hat to the ground and tangling your fingers through his dark curls.

“But remember, dear. If you do not satisfy your Queen until she is content then it’s off with your head.”

You pulled on his hair, grip tight as you tugged him away from your body, aiming his gaze at you as you carefully spoke the next words.

“And I do not mean the one on your shoulders.”

Jervis stuttered over his response, licking his lips and swallowing the build up of saliva before he drooled over the way you stood in control above him.

“Y-yes, my queen.”

As his tongue flitted over your folds, circling your clit when his lips closed over the sensitive bud, you moaned in pleasure. The way he felt, like silk against your skin, the way his hair gently tickled you as it brushed against your bare thighs. It was good, but it wasn’t enough.

You pushed him back, smiling at the shocked look on his face as he felt into a sitting position on the floor. Dragging your eyes down his outfit, you stopped on the obvious bulge that tented the front of his pants. As you stepped towards him, you slid your panties off, lowering yourself before standing back up when you realised Jervis was sitting still, staring dumbfounded at you.

“Well, Hatter… are you going to let loose that impressive member?”

Nodding, still unblinking, Jervis unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, letting it bounce, stiff and entirely erect, as you lowered yourself onto it. He hissed as he felt himself disappear between you folds, deep into your entrance, inch by inch. You were warm and wet, sticky against him. The way your hips rolled as you rode him had him choking on his own breath, unable to do anything but gratefully accept his fate of being used by you.

“Now don’t hold back from your Queen, Hatter. I would hope you might have the strength and prowess to sire me an heir while you’re graciously allowed the pleasure of being inside of me.”

The way you spoke, putting on an air of regality, your voice so condescending, making him feel small. All of it turned him on, lighting his blood on fire, sending heat coursing through him. He couldn’t take it any more. He knew you were in control, and he wanted it to stay that way, but his body was twitching desperately, his muscles tensing as he tried to fight the urge to take you on his own terms. The desire, the urge, to rut into you brutally and quickly was too much to take, and before he knew it, he had his hands behind your back, lowering you onto the floor and taking you by surprise with this display of dominance.

“Hatter! I don’t think you should be taking control of your Queen like this.”

Searching quickly for an excuse, he finally stuttered one out.

“B-but my Queen, I do not think you should have to do the work. Should you not be laying back and enjoying yourself? Please, allow me to pleasure you while you lounge comfortably below me. Please?”

You nodded silently, allowing Jervis to enter you with a forceful push, taking you roughly as he began pounding himself against your thighs, which he held up against his chest and over his shoulders. His pace was brutal, and the swiftness with which he moved only served to over-excite him. Before he realised it, he found himself losing control, falling apart, coming undone inside of you.

With a final grunt, his body convulsing as he dug his fingers into your hips with a tight grip, Jervis felt himself cumming in thick, white ropes, filling you up as requested, secretly hopeful that he might have been good enough to properly breed you, spilling his seed within you and leaving a part of himself behind with his Queen.

Still on top of you, he pulled his hips back, a small trail of his cum landing on your mound as he shifted slightly to your side. With an almost innocent gaze he looked to you for approval, for a compliment on his hard work and efforts. You fought the urge to praise him, to shower him in kind words, to stroke his cheek and rest your hand under his chin and kiss his sweet, soft, reddened lips. you had to be in control. You still felt like you owed him a proper experience with the Queen of Hearts.

“I’m disappointed with your lack of self-control, Hatter. You’ve gotten excited and wasted the opportunity. I hope you haven’t provided me with an heir under these circumstances. You should hang your head in shame.”

The slight smile on the corner of your lips told Jervis that you weren’t serious, that you were living up to the role you were embodying in the moment. So he kept up with the roleplay also, even though they were both finished and satisfied. With an exaggerated pout he hung his head down and muttered an almost silent, very soft, apology before you spoke again.

“And that mess you’ve made. Clean it up!”

Nodding solemnly, but heart racing with excitement at being ordered to do something so degrading, so delightfully lewd, Jervis lowered his body, sinking down the bed along your body until his head was level with your slick, plump lips. Each twitch of your body as your muscles relaxed post-orgasm saw a little more of his cum dribbling out of you. With his tongue protruding, he ran it up in one slow, stiff motion between your lips, the tip collecting his own cum from between your folds. He let it linger there, salty, warm, tinged with the flavour and scent of you, before he swallowed it.

“Don’t think you’re finished yet, there’s more inside.”

With a dutiful nod, he lowered himself again, this time laying his tongue flat on you, to ensure that your cunt was completely clean, before he dove within you, his tongue wagging inside of your entrance as he closed his lips around and sucked. Your moans were music to his ears, and he let out a soft, pleasured whimper of his own as he tasted himself once again at the back of his throat.

He pulled back, looking up at you questioningly, expectantly, as he awaited your approval.

“Not quite fit for a Queen, yet, but with practice, you’ll be an excellent Royal Assistant, dear Hatter.”

Jervis nodded, lowering his eyebrows as he smirked. He knew very well that the promise of practice meant that you had enjoyed his efforts far more than you were willing to let on. He’d done a good job for the Queen of his heart.

[putting-eddie-munson-in-places]

Are you doing all these different styles for the drawings? I'm always blown away when you add a new style to fit the prompt!

yes! i make them in one of four ways:

find a template or base like for mlp eddie or bluey eddie and draw in whatever 'eddie bits' (vest, hair, hfc, shoes, etc.) are needed to match the original style

i draw the 'eddie bits' over an existing bg character/subject and tweak the colors, shapes or what have you in order to keep the style the same like i did here or here. fairly odd eddie was extra challenging bc i started with a of i think..vicky’s bf from one ep and cut him up and put him back together, which you can see in the vid below! (i think homestuck eddie counts here too bc he's jake's torso and dirk's modified legs lmao)

tracing over the eddie pic on a new layer w/ whatever brush makes sense for the style and do my best to translate the style of the original to the new eddie like here, here, or here

rarely i will draw a whole new eddie in that media's style (usually just because it takes more time to do and i want to keep the queue stocked!). did it with captain underpants eddie, and will be doing it again for an upcoming request (👀)

thank you so much for your ask, here’s a vid with some of my recent drawn eddies 💖 (CW for flashing imagery!)

[neopronouns]

[if alt text is not accessible for you, every image in this post is a line divider resembling train or roller coaster tracks, with dark dull pink rails and warm grey crossties. end id.]

welcome to my blog!

i'm dexter, and you can find more information about me here. i'm 23 and i mainly use he/him, ey/em, and it/its pronouns, but any other pronouns that are not she or they are good too!

i also run @mogai-headcanons, where i made edits of folks' mogai/liom/etc. headcanons, and @neopornouns, a request blog like this one for 18+ terms, and my main blog is @rarnbley.

please read my dni before following me and read my general rules and blog rules/open requests before requesting!

requests are currently open! [pt: open! /end pt] if you're interested, you can also read my request whitelist to see what requests i'll be most excited about!

here is every request currently in my inbox. my queue currently posts 3 times a day between 10am and 2pm cst.

here's a quick list of frequently asked questions — i recommend you look through this before asking me a question, since i get a lot of asks and may ignore yours if it's answered here!

q: what program do you use to make your flags/edits and how? a: i use gimp on desktop! here's a simple flag tutorial i made and a basic flag splicing tutorial for multi-flag icons.

q: what's your header/icon? a: my icon is rambley the raccoon from 'indigo park' over the kenomel flag and my header is a gif of rambley's cute emotion animation with lyrics from the song 'rambley review' from 'indigo park'!

q: are you alright with requests involving [insert media]? a: if it's not in my general rules linked above, probably yes! if you're concerned for a specific reason (source content, shitty creator, etc.) please let me know in your ask; i don't know what's problematic about every piece of media!

q: i don't see my request in the inbox! can i resend it? a: yes! just resend it and let me know that you sent it previously while requests were open.

q: can i put your terms on [insert wiki] or [insert other social media site]? a: yes, as long as you credit me and do not reword my definitions, add additional definitions, etc.

q: can you tag [insert thing]? a: yes, i'll try my hardest to remember! feel free to remind me if i forget.

q: how long will it take for my request to be posted? how long will it take for you to get to my request? a: i can't definitively say, sorry! i try to make it so the queue has a month's worth or less of posts in it, but as for getting to your request, i don't really know for a number of reasons.

q: [insert post] should be tagged as eyestrain! a: thanks for letting me know! i struggle to determine what is eyestrainy a lot of the time, so i tag things as 'eyestrain' when i'm certain and 'potential eyestrain' when i'm not. if you're photosensitive, i recommend blocking both tags to be safe.

q: can i use one of your edits somewhere? a: yes, and i would strongly prefer if you credit me somewhere if you do.

q: are you alright with spam likes/reblogs? a: yes, and i appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

q: [insert nice thing] a: i cherish you so much and your ask probably will sit in my inbox forever along with all the other incredibly sweet asks i've received over the course of this blog!

q: [discourse] a: please Do Not.

lastly, here's a few resources you may find useful!

my taglist application, for if you want me to tag you in my coining posts/edits

my deviantart for flag templates and symbols

the pride-flags deviantart, which has a ton of high-res flags for mogai terms and more flag templates/symbols

my guide to finding mogai terms by name (and ensuring that you don’t name a new term after a preexisting one)

a guide to how i create names for my terms

an archive of pupyzu’s term suffixes carrd

a list of other mogai blogs i enjoy (hasn't been updated in a while, sorry!)

a beginner’s guide to request etiquette

my redbubble shop, where i’m happy to upload any other flags i’ve personally designed or edits i’ve made

[hermit-permits]

About This Blog:

Welcome to the Tumblr Hermit Permit Office! This is a gimmick blog is centered around handing out permits for different posts, such as cataloging crimes or selling virtual flowers!

It is important to understand that this blog is distinct from the Hermitcraft Hermit Permit Office and should not be held to the same standards. We do not currently employ Permit Office Enforcement (AKA POE-POE) and strive for only the best experiences while issuing permits, unlike that sister location.

Please note that your permit may include additional comments by the Permit Maker (i.e. the runner of this blog) concerning the contents or caveats of the permit.

Like many things, all permits given on this blog are in the name of good fun. No permit excludes others from posting similar content.

This post will be updated as the Permit Maker irons out the specifics of this blog! Bear in mind that this is the first gimmick blog that the Permit Maker has run, so things may be a bit bumpy as we get this show on the road.

And yes, I have a permit for this.

FAQ and taglist under the cut.

FAQ

Who runs this blog, and what are their pronouns?

Hello! I am the Permit Maker, the sole runner of this establishment of the Hermit Permit Office. You may refer to me using she/her. I may refer to myself in first-person plural (we/us); this is to mimic actual corporations using first-person plural in reference to themselves.

What is a permit, anyway?

A hermit permit is a concept introduced in the tenth season of popular Minecraft YouTube series Hermitcraft. The owner of the permit is able to sell whatever is permitted by the permits they own. On the server, these permits are categorized into three ranks--diamond, gold, and iron--based on demand of the item permitted.

Here at the Tumblr Hermit Permit Office, things are run a little differently. Permits are still ranked from iron to diamond, though in this case it's far more subjective, based on the Permit Maker's perception of its "demand" and general vibes. At the end of the day, iron permits just tend to be more specific than diamond permits. Additionally, permits that are collective are usually owned by gimmick blogs (e.g. the Where-Is collective, the fanblog collective) and contain similar permits to each other.

What do you tag each permit with?

Besides the general #hermit permits tag, each permit is tagged with its rank, whether it is part of a collective, the owner of the permit (at the time), an extremely brief summary of the permit in question (<5 words, usually), and whether the permit was requested or not.

Where do I go if I want to request a permit?

Please send all permit requests through the askbox! Requests are open at any time. Additionally, please add a link to the post you'd like reblogged if it is not pinned on your profile or if it is not a permit that is relatively unconnected to your account (e.g. selling virtual flowers). If you do not add this information, your request will be kept in the inbox until you submit a post link.

When are permits posted, and what is your time zone?

The time zone of the Tumblr Hermit Permit Office is EST/EDT. Please assume all times given are in this time zone. Permits are posted every day at roughly 10 AM. This is different from previous bouts of the Permit Office, wherein the queue ran for two or three times a day--hopefully, under this new schedule, we'll be able to stay active longer.

Why are you so inactive?

The Permit Maker is only one person, and running this blog can sometimes take a toll on her mental health. She will sometimes go dormant whenever submissions run out, so do not fret if this happens.

Where's your Where-Is blog masterlist?

While in the past this has been linked under every Where-Is permit, each permit will instead direct the viewer to this pinned post. This does not have every Where-Is blog, but it contains a good deal of them. Deleted blogs will be pruned as necessary.

Tags Used:

#hermit permits for permits given. All permits will be tagged with their category, owner, and rank.

#not a permit for posts that are not giving a permit.

#answered for asks.

#requested for requested permits.

#sister location for anything pertaining to the other Hermitblr Permit Office, @permitoffice.

#nsfw for nsfw permits.

Tags will be updated as needed.

[wwdits-kink-meme]

WWDITS KINK MEME

Why not start a revival? Send in your prompts!!

This is an experimental format, so hopefully it works out!

SUBMIT A KINK MEME

FAQ (also under cut for mobile users)

What is a kink meme? Basically a public (usually nsfw) prompt, popularized on Livejournal. One person will throw out an idea that they don’t or can’t fulfill themselves in the hopes that it will spark creativity in someone else! A kink meme can be as simple as pairing + trope, or a full well-thought-out AU!

How do I submit a kink meme? Use the ask button on this blog and it will go into the queue! You can submit anonymously (traditional), but it will be posted either way - make sure you click anonymous if you don’t want your face on it!

How do I fill a kink meme? Any way you like! You can write a fic directly in the reblogs, post it on another site and provide a link, or even post a 32 part series in the replies! We just ask that you link the prompt on your creative piece and/or reblog the submission with your piece included or linked (whichever applicable). If you are putting an explicit fill in reblogs, please remember to add a community label if the original post does not already have one!

Can I fill/submit an NSFW prompt if I am under 18? NO!!!!!!!! Doing so not only endangers you, but the adults in fandom, as well. We can’t stop you from seeking out certain content if you want to see it, but you should not be interacting directly with adults on sexual topics.

Can I fill a prompt with art? Absolutely! If your craft is drawing, painting, crocheting, stop-motion, needlepoint, cosplay, etc etc etc and you are inspired by a kink meme, we encourage you to participate! We also encourage adding alt text to any images.

What content do you allow in submissions? All kinks are welcome - yes, even that one. We will reject submissions that are not WWDITS-based, are hateful in some way, or appear to be submitted in bad faith. Venting, character-bashing, or incomprehensible prompts will be deleted. Transphobia, racism, homophobia, antisemitism, ableism, etc will get you blocked. Due to the limitations of the mods, we are currently only accepting submissions in English or Spanish.

How are kink memes tagged? Tags will include any and all pairings, kinks, applicable tropes, and potentially triggering content to the best of our ability. If we have missed something or you would like to request a certain trigger tag, send us an ask! We cannot guarantee that we will be able to tag for everything, however, and it is important to remember to protect yourself and your online experience. Submissions with explicit language will have community tags attached.

Can I submit SFW prompts? Of course! Despite the name, kink memes aren’t just for porn.

Can I submit prompts with characters from the WWDITS movie, too? Absolutely!

Can I submit prompts with my OC? No, but not because we don’t like your OC - we just don’t know them! These prompts are for someone else to fill, so it has to include characters they know.

Can I submit reader-insert or y/n prompts? Yes, as long as the other characters are from WWDITS!

Can I submit RPF prompts? No, as we prefer that this kink meme focus on the characters in the show rather than the actors who play them. However, celebrities who have appeared in the show as themselves count as characters and are fair game (within reason)!

Can I submit crossover prompts? Yes, under certain conditions. This is a WWDITS kink meme, and we want to ensure those characters have the spotlight! So if your prompt is mostly about the crossover property, or if the WWDITS character is simply one of a medley of different characters, it may be rejected. No Harry Potter, please.

Can I make my own kink meme for a different fandom using this blog as a template? Of course! We encourage this - please bring kink memes back to fandom!!

Who are the mods? Just some adult fans who long for the insanity that was LJ back in the day.

Mod the Impaler - they/them ModMilla - she/her

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Is it alright if we politely point out a character's age if you forget to tag a minor poll?

Because the gender non-conforming poll with Jessie and Haruhi and some others I don't know anything about is missing that tag, and Haruhi is 15.

I'm not trying to be rude or anything, with tumblr fucking up and deleting all the polls you had in your queue, I can understand forgetting a tag on a couple posts.

Yes, this is when I need people to say something. Just comment that it's missing the tag, and I will fix it as quickly as possible. Especially right now, because a lot of The Pride Event requests, most of them just say assumed adults, so I have no clue if I need to add the #minor poll tag. I don't need the exact age of a character. I just want to know if I need to put the minor poll tag. I also sometimes make polls in a hurry and can miss it in a rush.

And people have lied about character ages before, So if you know something's off, say something. I've had people lie about a 13-year-old and a 14-year-old, saying they're 16 in the request. That's when you need to speak up, and I don't have a problem with that

[outerwilds-events]

Submissions End Tomorrow at 11:59PM EST!

Here is a tutorial on how to submit to the tumblr via web. If you have an issue with submitting please contact a mod (@awanderingmuse-fandom @craniumknight, or @fridurwrites) via DM and we will be happy to help!

Submissions will be placed into the queue in the order they were received and posted every 28 minutes. (Tumblr figured out how to add 6 minutes to the time loop, yay!)

We have also opened a collection for posting on Ao3. Please still submit links to the blog as well, if you choose to post to the collection. The tutorial for submitting to the collection can be found here.

TIMELINE

Sign-ups Begin November 1 Sign-ups End November 22 Matches go out by November 30 First Check-In December 22 Final Check-In Dec 29 - Pinch Hitters assigned to anyone who has not confirmed they are ready to post.  Posting Period January 5 - January 11

GOSSAN’S HANDBOOK/RULES:

You must sign up by filling out the google form. 

Everyone who signs up for a gift must also create a fan work.

You must include a method of contact in your sign up such as your blog name.

Sign-ups containing non-prompts such as “anything” or “Outer Wilds” will be deleted. 

Crossovers or NSFW content are not permitted. 

For fics the word count must be at least 1,000 words.

For art the piece must have shading and/or flats.

You must adhere to the preferences of your recipient. 

Do not talk to your recipient about your gift. If you have a question for your recipient the mods would be happy to pass it along. Just message the event blog. 

If something comes up and you can no longer participate let a mod know as soon as possible, so that we may assign a pinch hitter. If a participant does not respond to a check-in message from a mod within two days of a mod reaching out we will assign a pinch hitter to your prompt. 

For submitting works, we prefer you use the submission button if possible. If Tumblr is not working or your submission has multiple images you may message your work directly to one of the mods and we will post for you.

Submissions must be appropriately tagged for triggers/spoilers/etc.

LOST TRAVELERS INFORMATION GUIDE/FAQ

Q: What is an Exchange? An exchange is a type of fan challenge in which participants create fanworks to give to one another. It's kind of like a secret santa, but for fanworks! Participants will submit prompts. The mods will match participants for exchanging gifts. All gifts will be posted to the blog so everyone can see! Q: Do I have to make something to participate? Yes.  Q: Do I have to make art for this?  Traveler, we aren’t all artists and that’s a good thing! You can respond in any medium you want, art, fic, music, or anything else you can think of is fine! Just put what mediums you might work with in your sign up form.  Q: Is shipping allowed? Yes, specific ships are one of the things you can request or refuse in the form.  Q: What if I don't have Tumblr or my messages are closed? Please include another way we can reach you! Perhaps Discord or email? Q: Assignments went out and I haven’t gotten one? We do delete requests that are against Gossan’s Handbook. However, if your request was within the rules, it is possible that it was missed. You can always send in an ask, though we won’t be able to help much if it’s anonymous. You can also send the blog a direct message.  Q: I have a burning question for my recipient and it'd be really easy for me to just ask-? And ruin the surprise? If you have a question just ask us and we'll get the information for you! Q: Can I just give my recipient their gift by DM? No can do. All participating assignments will be posted to the blog so that everyone can enjoy them! Q: I have another question. That’s why there’s an ask button, Traveler.

[na-bird-of-the-day]

Hello and welcome to North American Bird of the Day! 🐦

Whether you're an avid bird enthusiast or just want to see cool bird pics, this blog can satisfy your bird-related needs!

As the name suggests, one bird from the continent of North America (yes, this includes Central America and the Caribbean) will be posted every day at 1:00 PM (EST).

While this blog primarily focuses on the bird species found in North America, I'm still happy discuss birds from all over the world! Just hit up my ask box! Also, feel free to request a bird for me to post :]

Join the Discord server! New members are always welcome!

Location tags:

Birds of the US

Birds of Canada

Birds of Mexico

Birds of Central America

Birds of the Caribbean

Ask tags:

Bird spotted! - Send me pictures of birds you find, I'd love to see them!

Bird identified! - Need help identifying a bird? I can try to help!

Bird sampler - Would you like me to give you a list of NA birds that fit a certain theme? I'd enjoy that a lot!

Request - Tell me any birds you would like me to post as bird of the day, and I'll add them to the queue!

Resources - Got any birding resources? Feel free to share!

Bird tags:

Auks

Blackbirds

Buntings

Chickadees

Cormorants

Corvids

Cuckoos

Doves

Ducks

Eagles

Falcons

Finches

Flycatchers

Geese

Grebes

Grosbeaks

Grouse

Gulls

Hawks

Herons

Hummingbirds

Kingfishers

Landfowl

Loons

Mimids

Nightjars

Nuthaches

Orioles

Owls

Parrots

Passerines

Petrels

Plovers

Quails

Rails

Raptors

Sandpipers

Seabirds

Shorebirds

Sparrows

Swallows

Swifts

Tanagers

Terns

Thrushes

Titmice

Trogons

Waders

Warblers

Waterfowl

Woodpeckers

Wrens

Vireos

Vultures

There are more, of course, but these are some of the biggest ones.

[look-at-the-soul]

WIP/Requests summary

Hello my darlings!!

I’ve got a couple of requests in the drafts queue so I thought of creating this list to let you know (specially those anon requests), that I got them! But I’m a slow writer plus inspiration comes in waves and whenever it wants 🤭 -calling the inspiration fairy 🧚🏻‍♀️-

I don’t want you to think I ignored your requests, I have it saved until I actually post the story so I won’t give a spoiler away… anyways here is the list I’m working on. Oh! Btw my requests are always open! I just ask a little patience in return.

WIP (on going series):

Part 48 The Photoshoot -Cillian

Part 12 Look at the soul- Cillian

Requests:

The Runway- Lenny Miller mini series @l1-l4

Secrets- Robert Fischer mini series (anon) *working on it

When we were young- Cillian (The Photoshoot) @zablife

“You look so good in love” song- Tommy Shelby (fmo166) @outlanderuniverse *pending

The edge of love- William Killick x Vera (anon) *pending

Beautiful song y/n- Tommy Shelby (anon) *pending

Roxie, song from Chicago -Tommy Shelby ( @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf *pending

Celebrations:

Peaky x Lana festival @shelbydelrey *pending

Straight to the heart part 2 (Tommy Shelby x nurse) @peakybfics @dlmlufics *pending

Someone like you part 2 (Tommy Shelby x mysterious woman) @peakyswritings yes but I changed the main idea Watching over us

TP Peaky Blinders edition- Modern Tommy Shelby @raincoffeeandfandoms

A/N: if I forgot about anything I’ll add it here 🥰

[gallavichthings]

Hoping you can put this out for all of the artists and writers that participate in your events. Just wondering how everyone deals with the feeling of posting something and having it completely flop? Those of you that have had it happen, how do you come back from that?

Hello, dear anon! I'm posting this so that anyone who wants to reply may do so, as you requested, but I also wanted to include my own two cents.

First of all, let me tell you I absolutely understand your frustration. It can be very off-putting to post something you put effort into to just have no one apparently notice it. There are a lot of posts saying how we should write/make art for ourselves, and not for others, and while I agree with those to a certain extent, once you actually post something, the goal is clearly to have it noticed by your peers.

That being said, I do encourage you to try to redefine what a flop means. Is it no notes at all? Because I hardly think you're getting no notes at all, especially in this fandom (but if you are, maybe there's something off with the way you're "marketing" it, so let me know and maybe we can help).

I assume by flop you mean getting less notes than you'd expected, so I think it's a matter of expectations. Are you comparing yourself to others? Because let me tell you right away, that won't do. Some people are more popular, period, and who knows why that is. Sure, most of the time these people are really talented, but usually it's that they make something that resonates with people, but I couldn't tell you why some do and some don't. It's absolutely impossible to predict what the fandom will or won't like. Even if you compare your works with your other own works, that will happen. I can't tell you the amount of times I've written something thinking people would love it only to get just a handful of kudos, while some other fics I've written on a whim, thinking no one would care, got way more attention.

Number three: give it time. Sometimes things aren't appreciated right away, but eventually they get further. I still get daily kudos on fics I wrote 8, 9, 10 years ago.

Finally, and this is a message to everyone, not just the anon who sent the ask: this is why fandom is important, and this is why you have to share the things you enjoy. Leaving likes/kudos is a great thing, but once you reblog it or add it to a recs list, that's when other people get to know stuff. That's literally my main job here, that's the reason I created this blog, so it would be an archive for the fandom. Yes, I organize events as well, and I answer asks and all, but the main point of this blog has always been and will continue to be reblogging. (I unfortunately don't have as much time to go through the tags as I used to, which is why I have my dear @sickness-health-all-that-shit helping me out, but it's still possible we miss things, so you're always welcome to tag me or send me your posts if you notice it's been a week or two and we haven't reblogged them yet - please do wait a bit though, as we do have a queue to go through.) Also, please do leave replies/comments/tags, those are so important and encouraging to the artists/authors!

I hope this eases your heart a bit, anon. And I look forward to seeing what everyone else will say.

Cheers,

GT mod.