#More people should check out your writing

[shiranuieditorial]

Professional editor here 🙋🏽 piping in to say that that sentence is 100% grammatically correct, but it could use a pair of em dashes (if following U.S. English standards) or en dashes (if following U.K. English standards) to break up that interior monologue or emphasised exclamation (whichever one you intended it to be) as an interjection/interruption inserted within the main sentence. It would help your readers’ clarity and understanding, and therefore, boost their enjoyment levels too!

So, yeah, it still stands that English’s grammar sphere is extremely flexible, twistable, stretchable, flammable, combustible, slice-and-diceable, and however the fuck else you wanna abuse it to your selfish satisfaction! You just gotta make sure your overall creation is still readable, parseable, legible, decipherable, understandable, and therefore, enjoyable—you know?

Unique author voices are completely different from grammatical errors and linguistic inaccuracies. The former is to be cherished! Treasured! Praised! Uplifted! Celebrated until the end of time! Meanwhile, the latter is to be reduced to a minimum, because we don’t need them if they don’t serve a very intentional purpose. A trained eye will be able to distinguish this without problem, which is indeed why human editors like me and my friends aren’t that easily replaced by AI—thank you very much!—but this elephantine task certainly takes on a differently flavoured toll when an author self-edits their own writing, especially if they don’t have years of specialised knowledge and training in the art of editing. (And trust me, it is a wholly different and just as serious of a skillset as the writing part itself.)

Now, whether or not you plan to work with a trusted professional editor later on is up to you to decide (I mean, it’s obviously recommended, but the choice is still in your hands; and even if you do hire editors, the final choice to accept or reject their suggestions is also still in your hands), but here are a few things to keep in mind during your self-editing rounds:

Trust yourself, first and foremost! You’re the one who understands your story best. If something strongly resonates with you, keep it in. At the very least, it’d add a touch of you and your humanity to your creation, if nothing else.

Having your own unique voice is a good thing. You should want more of it, and no one should ever try to kill it off of you—not even yourself. Stay authentic to yourself, explore whatever interests you, and keep honing your storytelling voice(s) through practice, practice, practice—no matter how you think it “stands out against” or “blends in with” or “doesn’t hold a candle to” or “bastardises” other people’s creations you’ve interacted with. Your voice is solely yours, and that is so, so valuable.

If you heavily suspect something contains a technical error, check with reputable sources, like some bigwig dictionary’s example sentences section, or whichever style guide you’ve chosen as your patron saint, or various editor(ial)s’ blog posts and articles, or Q&A/AMA sessions with editors or linguists, or you could try your luck and slide into their DMs if you have a particular someone you admire, or whatever combination of those options you fancy the most.

If you’ve heard or read someone irl (including yourself) say those words or that phrase/sentence/monologue before, then it’s probably fine, dude.

For hearing folks: Say it aloud. Use various text-to-speech settings to read it aloud to you. Have your friend or relative read it aloud. Does anything feel wonky, somehow? Does anything need a sprinkle of pizzazz to liven up the dead air? Do these words fit the mood you’re currently feeling during this scene? Did your companion stutter at any point?

Let your writs marinate alone for as long as you can afford to. Forget about it. Then, come back to it with a fresh perspective—not one of an author’s nor an editor’s, but pretend you are a reader who is reading some anonymous writer’s work with the intention of simply sinking into the read and enjoying whatever is served.

The world isn’t divided into “grammatically correct” and “grammatically incorrect”. There are many other variables to composing, writing, editing, proofreading, and speaking. If you have the time and headspace to learn about them, do so. Finding the proper terminologies to describe your ideas and experiences will benefit you with great satisfaction.

Punctuation marks, symbols, spacings, margins, line breaks, paragraph breaks, scene breaks, chapter breaks, placements, pacing, etc. are difficult and time-consuming for us copy editors too. Don’t beat yourself up for struggling with these technical details, but also, don’t be so afraid of them that you omit them entirely from your writs. Instead, shift your energy and attention to creating and maintaining your very own author’s style sheet, which you can then pass on to your editor to upgrade and tidy up for you as you kick back and relax, but it can certainly help ease your own writing process if you’ve sketched up your own guide for yourself.

Editing any piece of work—fiction or non-fiction or any hybrid of them—should always prioritise the author’s original vision and goals above all else. Don’t treat it like grading schoolwork with checks and crosses and /100 scores. There is no right and wrong to the art of writing. Why did you start writing in the first place? What do you want to explore and express in your crafts? What do you want your readers to get from your story? How do you want them to feel about your characters? What message are you trying to tell, and why is it important? Do you want to impress people more with your substance or your style? Linguistic unorthodoxy be damned; if your quirky choice gets the point across with all the right vibes and nuances ticked off, then go for it!

Remember that language is constantly evolving… as it should! What was once regarded as “incorrect” a century ago could easily be the norm nowadays. If you’ve decided to become the progenitor of a new trend, then you better own up to it! Be unapologetically compelling.

Remember that there is always a solution/answer to your confusion/curiosity. Even if you don’t find what you’re looking for right now, there’s still hope. Either you’ll find clarity when you least expect it, or you’ll create homemade organic closure for yourself, one way or another. The possibilities are endless. What matters most is to trust the process and never give up on yourself!

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

[stellamarielu]

friendly competition

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: on a business trip with declan, the two of you are forced to share a room which can only lead to rising tensions and unspoken realizations.

content: nsfw, 18+, enemies to lovers-ish, one bed trope lets gooo, angst, arguing, hate sex, infidelity [but does it really count if his wife left him??], oral m & f receiving, cock warming for a hot second, dirty talk, kinda rough, unprotected sex [oops], finishing inside [oops again]

author’s note: she’s hereee! i had so much fun writing this one so thank you to whoever suggested hate sex with declan lol i hope it lives up to your expectations

—

Declan didn’t work with you very often. He had exchanged plenty of pleasantries and seen you around the office enough to know he didn’t care to talk to you more than the occasional “Hello” or “How are you today?” He knew it was rude to be so judgmental and short with you, but he was only in the building for one thing and it wasn’t to make friends. He was there to produce hard hitting journalism in the form of an unoriginal talk show to please the one and only Tony fucking Baddingham.

His bad attitude about work wasn’t helped by the fact that his home life had become an absolute shit-show since moving to Rutshire. Between his failing marriage and his daughter’s constant frustration with him for meddling in her dating life, he found himself desperate to stay out of his own home. He worked late most nights and poured himself empty into the never-ending glass of Corinium television.

So when Tony asked him to go on an overnight trip to London for a work prospect, Declan agreed without so much as a second thought. His boss then decided to add that you of all people would be joining him, and it had Declan’s head spinning with regret.

You were everyone’s favorite producer and subsequently the one person Declan couldn’t stand sitting next to in meetings. Simply put– you annoyed him. The way you walked, the way you talked; Declan was constantly irritated by your happy go lucky personality. You were always so cheery and optimistic, and it got under his skin. It was so unrealistic for someone to be that happy all the time. It was all fake, he knew it had to be; the constant smiles, the sing-song tone of your voice, the way you had everyone wrapped around your finger with your constant jokes and can-do attitude. Surely it was all a ruse to become a network favorite so you could climb your way to the top. Whatever the reason was for your encouraging outlook on life, Declan told himself he could suck it up for a day and be cordial on this little business trip with you. 

He had done a good enough job once you arrived in London. The two of you were so busy with business matters that you didn’t interact much.

You were your usual polite and perky self, yet he found himself much less annoyed with you in this environment. Maybe it was because you weren’t around the others from the office, or perhaps he had psyched himself out the night before, losing sleep over the idea of being stuck with you for 24 hours, when the reality of it was much less jarring. 

The point was Declan was beginning to find your presence much less unbearable than usual.

However, that all came crumbling down once you checked into your hotel for the night. He was standing at the front desk fuming with annoyance while you were just standing next to him all pleasant and nonconfrontational. 

“Like I said before, neither of us booked the room. It’s through our company, but I can assure you there should be two separate rooms under the name.” 

Declan’s voice was loud and stern; not quite a yell, but if this woman at the front desk tried to convince him he didn’t know what he was talking about one more time, it would be. 

There had been some sort of mistake with the hotel booking. When you and Declan checked in you were given the keys for one room with a single bed. Declan had argued many times that you should have two rooms, but the woman across from him had no issue disputing his claims. She informed Declan that there was only one room on the reservation and the hotel was currently at capacity so there were no extra rooms available to even attempt solving the problem at hand. 

While Declan was growing more livid by the second, you were nothing but calm and cooperative– a complete pushover. 

“It’s really okay! We’ll figure something out, no worries.” 

Your voice was unphased and you were smiling apologetically at the staff that was now gathering at the front desk. You took the room key and shuffled Declan off toward the elevators. 

He was looking at you with the most aggravated expression imaginable. He wasn’t even close to being done debating with the hotel staff, he was determined to right their wrong. He always got what he wanted.

Yet here you were pulling him away from the conflict with an annoyingly hopeful tone in your voice, regardless of the shitty situation. Why the fuck were you being so nice.

“Declan, there’s nothing they can do. We’ll just have to figure it out with one room.” You were doing your best to level with the angry Irishman as he shot you another look of irritation. 

Pressing the button on the wall in front of you, you silently hoped that an elevator would come available so you could just get to your room as fast as possible. You were certain Declan was going to continue fighting you on this, so getting away from the lobby was your current priority. 

“That’s absurd, I’ll just take a train back home this is ridiculous.” 

“Seriously? That’s how big of an issue sharing a room is?” you were laughing at the silliness of the situation.

“We have a meeting in the morning with that guy from BBC. Are you planning to hop on another train to get back here by 8am?”

He just stared at you as if answering a silent, “if that’s what it takes.”

“Fine do whatever you want but I’m staying in room 553 and enjoying free breakfast in the morning.” Looking down at the key in your hand as you spoke, you recited the room number printed on it in a sleek black font.

With that, the elevator doors in front of you opened with a ‘ding’ and you were taking a step inside. Declan was deliberating for a split second before he followed behind you, the doors closing and sealing his fate. 

“I’ll even sleep on the floor if that makes you feel better.” You were lightly laughing but you meant it. 

You didn’t want Declan to be upset or uncomfortable. It was just one night; you could deal with whatever repercussions found you tomorrow if it meant he would be in a good mood and not yelling at hotel employees. 

After your offer to sleep on the floor echoed in the small space, his head snapped in your direction. His expression was a mixture of humor and impatience.

“You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor.” His voice was a low hum matching the deep whirring of the moving elevator. 

You looked ahead avoiding eye contact with Declan. The thought of sleeping next to him suddenly making your chest warm, and you couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or excitement. No– it couldn’t be excitement, you hated him. Well hate was a big word to describe the feeling you had toward Declan. It was more indifference with a hint of aggravation for the way he thought he was better than everyone else. He was always riding around the office on his high horse, so smug and reserved in his own little world detached from the rest of you, unless he needed something or wanted to overstep.

It was always about what Declan wanted and he never cared to interact with anyone who didn’t serve a purpose for whatever project he was working on.

He was nice, sure, but it was only ever surface level. He was all work and no play and, in this moment, the most stubborn man you had ever met. So why on earth did you have butterflies in your stomach at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

Maybe it was his thick accent, the one you noticed the first time he said hello to you months back. Or possibly, it was the way his hair was all messy from running his frustrated hands through it over and over again in the hotel lobby. No, it was probably because you hadn’t had sex in god knows how long, and the idea of sleeping next to a perfectly handsome man had you just a little worked up.

But this wasn’t just any man, it was your coworker. It was Declan O’Hara who was nothing but professional and arrogant. Not to mention he was married, so there was no way in hell anything would happen between the two of you, not that you wanted it to.

The elevator doors opened once again and the two of you were stepping off onto the fifth floor. This time you were following his lead. Of course he wanted to be the one in charge– shocking. 

“I’ll call down and see if there’s someone else, I can talk to.” Declan was saying from ahead of you leading the charge down the long hallway. 

“Declan it’s really okay, I don’t think it’ll kill us to be in the same room for a night.” You were laughing off his annoyance, but you’d be lying if you said his persistence wasn’t beginning to drive you bat-shit crazy. 

With that you were at the door to your room, Declan fidgeting with the key only to swing the door open and pace inside. You were hardly even through the entryway by the time he was calling down to the front desk. 

After two separate conversations that both ended in the same response and nearly an hour of huffing and puffing, Declan gave up.

You were laying on the fully made bed just listening to him rant when he finally came to terms with the reality of your situation. 

“I need a drink.” Was the last thing he grumbled out before trapsing out of the room and to the bar downstairs. 

Such a diva, you thought as you stared at the ceiling and listened to the door slam shut. But you also thought about how hot he looked when he was angrily pacing around the room. The way his eyebrows knit together in frustration and how his voice dropped an octave in annoyance. What the fuck was wrong with you? It was getting late, maybe you were just tired and in the beginning stages of a sleep deprived delusion. You gave in to your exhaustion, changing into comfortable clothes and crawling into the only bed in your shared hotel room.

Meanwhile, Declan was down in the lobby nursing a glass of bourbon.

If he were being honest with himself he needed a distraction. 

He had been so angry about the room situation earlier that he hadn’t even let himself think about the fact that he was going to sleep next to you. But then he was walking the floors of the shared room, fuming about the whole situation and you were just sprawled out on the queen size mattress with your eyes on him, listening. You were carefully paying attention as he spewed curses and complained about the woman at the front desk for the hundredth time in an hour. You didn’t even look annoyed. You were simply listening. It was unsettling and even a bit thoughtful the way you just laid there letting his angry words fill your ears without a single response or objection. Relaxed on your back with your head turned to face him as he paced the room, he couldn’t help the subtle drift of his eyes on your body. Your shirt had come untucked and was bunched at your waist exposing your midriff and Declan was staring, his eyes wandered to the skin of your stomach as he talked. It looked so soft- you looked so soft, all spread out on the bed like that. He quickly realized his gaze was raking over your body and he snapped back to reality, deciding to get a drink to clear his mind and prepare him for the night ahead. 

Now he was taking a small sip from the same glass of bourbon that he’d been working on since he sat down at the bar. Each sip of his drink only making him think more about you on that damn bed. The bed he would inevitably be laying in, right next to you. Maybe he should sleep on the floor.

He gave up hope that the alcohol would help with the problem at hand and downed the rest of his drink in one swig, standing from his chair and trudging toward the elevators. 

Once he was back inside your hotel room, Declan noticed your body underneath the covers of the bed, sound asleep by the looks of it. He searched through his things to find a change of clothes before walking to the bathroom, silently thankful that you left the lamp on in the corner of the room to illuminate his steps. Of course you would make sure to leave a light on for him- Jesus, did you always have to be so considerate? 

On his way back from changing clothes, he tried not to let himself think about how weird it was– seconds away from lying next to your sleeping body. Someone he barely knew and didn’t even like. 

“I figured you might try to spend the night in the lobby”

Your quiet voice was finding him as he made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, as far away from you as possible. He was surprised to hear you were awake, it somehow made everything feel even more awkward than before.

“Thought about it but I don’t know if I’d be able to get comfortable on the shitty barstools they’ve got down there.” His voice was stoic, barely a hint of humor in it despite the sarcasm of his words. 

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun you know. To smile or tell a joke every once and a while?” 

You were talking at the wall. Your bodies were facing away from each other, at least two feet of empty space between your backs. 

“That was a joke.”

“Jesus you’re so literal.”

You sounded annoyed. Declan had never heard such a cruel tone in your voice before. It was a far cry from your usual kind attitude.

“Sorry we can’t all be little rays of sunshine.” He was mumbling into his pillow, unsure if you could even hear him.

“I’d rather be a ray of sunshine than a grumpy, arrogant asshole.”

Declan was stunned into silence. 

“Sorry that was mean.” You were too polite to insult him without an immediate apology.

“Again with the apologies. Here I was thinkin’ you’d finally grown a backbone.” 

You sat straight up at his words, bringing the comforter with you causing Declan to roll over at the loss of warmth.

“What the fuck is your problem?” That was the second curse word to leave your mouth that day, must be a new personal record, Declan thought.

“My problem? My problem is havin’ to spend my entire day with someone so invested in what other’s think of her that she can’t even have a personality of her own.”

It sounded so harsh as it rolled off Declan’s tongue, but the day was catching up to him and he was beyond pissed, he had to take it out on someone, and your presence was all too convenient.  

“Yeah and my idea of fun is listening to you bitch about not getting your way all day.” 

Third curse word, you must be going for an Olympic medal.  

“I mean really Declan, the sooner you realize the world doesn’t revolve around you the happier you’ll be.” You were laying back down, your head meeting the pillow with a muffled thud as you looked up at the ceiling. 

“I’ve never met someone with such a gigantic stick up their ass.” 

Your words were left floating in the air between you. You were beginning to feel bad for being so rude, but you had finally had enough of his negative attitude, and you didn’t feel like playing nice anymore. The silence ringing in the room was deafening and you feared the two of you might not speak another word to each other for the remainder of the trip.

And then Declan was chuckling. A real, genuine sound of amusement.

“God you’re right, I’m a miserable fuckin’ bastard aren’t I?” 

He was staring at the ceiling alongside you mumbling something about the stick up his ass under his breath as he laughed.

He seemed tickled by your insult, but you couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t overheard all the gossip about his wife supposedly leaving him for another man. Not to mention how Tony Baddingham was always using Declan to fulfil his own personal vendettas. It was all just sad. No wonder he seemed so angry all the time. The poor guy needed a break, and instead you were just adding to his despair. 

After his soft laughter died down and the room was once again filled with silence you decided to speak up; putting your bright attitude that Declan despised so much to good use.

“Not all the time.” You were correcting his previous statement. The one about being a miserable bastard.  

You weren’t lying. There were times you found Declan charming– endearing even. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t found yourself glancing over at him in meetings to see the way he always listened so intently to Daysee when no one else did. Or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at one of Seb’s many dumb jokes. Come to think of it, maybe he wasn’t as self-absorbed as you had painted him out to be. 

“No?”

He was turning his head in your direction. His dark curls contrasted with the cotton pillowcase they rested on. You were staring into his eyes; they were surprisingly kind. It suddenly felt so intimate, lying in bed next to him. 

“Sometimes you get this goofy little smile on your face.”

As if on cue he unknowingly gave you the exact grin you were thinking of. You smiled back at him, the two of you facing each other in the dark. The light of the moon shining through the sheer window curtains was just bright enough for you to appreciate the gentle curve of his lips. 

“I can be mean you know.”

After allowing yourself to see the good in Declan, you wanted him to know he was just as wrong in his assumptions of you. Afterall, you did just curse at him three times. 

“Oh yeah?”

He was challenging you with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“Prove it.” He was still smiling at you from his side of the bed, his once silly grin now an enticing smirk. 

“Tell me what else you hate about me.”

His voice was like velvet in your ears, wrapping around your mind and tying your inhibitions back with a neat little bow.  

“You think you’re better than everyone else.” Your delivery was confident as you hit him with another insult.

“Is that right?”

He was slowly trailing his hand up the empty space between you, bringing it to rest gently on your face before tracing your jaw with his fingertips.

You were frozen under his touch, almost ashamed at how such a simple gesture had your heart racing. You were hungry for someone’s touch, anyone’s touch, and right now, Declan’s touch.  

“What else angel?” 

He was watching his own hand as his fingers drew lightly down the curve of your neck. The pet name fell so easily from his lips that you were convinced he’d thought about this before; about calling you sweet names with his hands on you.

“You always seem so unimpressed by everything.” You were listing off another of the many things that annoyed you about Declan, but you had to try your best to sound composed. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you falling apart under his touch. 

“Nothing is ever good enough for you.” 

“Nothin’? I don’t know about that.”  

He was closing the space between you replacing the touch of his hand on your neck with his lips and you couldn’t keep a quiet gasp from slipping from your mouth. 

“Your company seems to meet my needs quite nicely at the moment. I’d say more than enough.”  The movement of his lips against your neck as he spoke sent a pleasant chill down your spine. 

Declan had no idea what possessed him to cross such a prominent line, perhaps it was the proximity of your scarcely clothed body, or the way he could feel the heat radiating from you underneath the shared blanket, or maybe it was the way you opposed him; after all, he would never turn down a friendly competition. 

He thought about his current relationship with his wife who claimed he paid no attention to her, while in fact she was the one paying no attention to him– running off to sleep with his best friend and shamelessly flirting with other men in his own home. He had been so loyal for so long, catering to her every whim and it did absolutely nothing to mend their broken connection. She kept him at her disposal, on a leash like a dog, and he had grown tired of it. She didn’t love him, not really– not anymore.

So why was he trying so hard to make her stay when he knew she wanted to leave; trying so hard to please her when he knew it was an impossible task. He had held onto her for dear life with the crippling fear that no one else could possibly want to be with him, yet here you were preening under his touch and whining at the feeling of his lips on your neck. 

All he knew in this moment was that he needed to hear more of how much you wanted him. He kissed down your jaw, savoring the sweet little sounds you made as his lips connected with the warmth of your skin. 

“Keep goin’ love. What else?” 

He was encouraging your harsh comments as his hand slid to the waistband of your shorts, his words humming into your skin. 

“You curse like a sailor.” That one made Declan chuckle into the crook of your neck. Such a harmless insult, fitting for the innocent lips speaking it. 

He was moving his body to hover over yours, your back now flat against the mattress. 

“Oh, so you don’t like my foul mouth, that it?” 

His voice was laced with ulterior motives as he continued placing kisses on your neck trailing them lower one by one until he was sliding his entire body down your torso, dragging the comforter to the foot of the bed as he moved. He pushed up your shirt ever so slightly placing one gentle kiss just above the waistband of your shorts looking up at you with a devilish grin. 

“Maybe I can change that.” 

He didn’t even bother taking off your pants, he just pulled your shorts and underwear right to the side in one swift movement and placed a hot wet kiss straight to the bundle of nerves at your center.

Another shocked gasp was leaving your lips at the sight of Declan between your legs. He was kissing and sucking on your clit, doing things with his mouth that you hadn’t felt in a very long time– or perhaps ever. You were trying to keep the moans from spilling from your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he was making you feel. 

Declan could feel it though, the way your body was tensing up and the sighs of relief that you were so desperately trying to hide. It only surged him on more, causing him to lap at your core in a way that he knew would have you losing your control.

The second you felt his tongue flat and heavy dragging through your folds, you were sending a hand down to thread through his curls. You were holding onto his hair in an attempt to gain some sort of stability, afraid that you might lose yourself in the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

You could feel your release spiraling closer all from the work of Declan’s tongue when it was all suddenly gone. The feeling of your core tightening, the warm sensation building in your chest, Declan’s mouth on your cunt; all of it gone in an instant. 

He was crawling back up to assume his position perched above you.

“How you feelin’ about my dirty mouth now angel?” His voice was so hushed and deep you thought you might drown in its bottomless allure. 

The familiar feeling of frustration for the man above you was clouding your mind as you sat up pushing him to his back. The sudden switch in positions gave you a control you’d always longed to have over Declan. 

“Like I said earlier,” 

You took this new opportunity of power to straddle his waist, running your hands over his chest. 

“Always so arrogant.” 

Your whisper held a sultry twist of innocence, and it had Declan stirring from underneath your body.

You decided to give Declan a taste of his own medicine and followed down his body with gentle kisses, mocking what his lips had done to you just moments ago. You were hooking your fingers in the waistband of his pants allowing him to lift his hips to assist you in undressing him. You were shoving them off and settling in between his legs, lowering your head to meet his erection and placing a sweet kiss to the tip of his length before taking him into your mouth.

The groan he let out at your actions was so guttural you couldn’t help but take him deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck- not as gentle as you let on, huh angel?”

He was practically growling as he caught a glimpse of you staring up at him. Seeing you like this was so out of character, the vulgarity of it had him throwing his head back on his pillow. 

You were absolutely ruining him with your mouth, his panting breath was like music to your ears. It was so satisfying having him like this. You were working deliberately with your tongue to coax more moans from the man before you, treating his pleasure like a challenge that you were determined to conquer. 

“Christ- that sweet little mouth of yours.” He was mumbling between moans and it had you humming onto his cock. 

You were ready to combust from the taste of dominance as you took your mouth off him, a small sigh escaping his lips.

“Thought you didn’t like how sweet my mouth was?” Your voice was taunting as you moved back to sit over his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“Keep talking to me like that, and you might just convert me.”

He was eyeing you, the warm embrace of your cunt just one thrust away from his throbbing cock. 

In an instant you were easily sinking down onto him, already soaked from having his mouth on you. 

“Fuck darlin’.” His voice was a low snarl as he grabbed onto your hips pulling you down onto him until his cock was fully sheathed within you. 

You could feel his fingertips digging into your side. With your hands splayed out on his chest, you steadied yourself. Feeling the stretch of him as he filled you completely. You needed to move, needed the friction of him pushing into you, but his hands were holding onto you hard keeping you from rocking your hips against him.

“Feels good doesn’t it angel?” 

You were moaning out a muffled “mhmm” to his question but you were nearly shaking with anticipation as you waited for his grip to ease up so you could move. 

“You wanted this huh?” Another question was coming from his mouth.

“Didn’t complain about the one bed thing because you wanted to fuck me.”

You had no idea how he was carrying on a conversation all nonchalant like his dick wasn’t buried deep inside of you right now. 

“Probably been thinkin’ about it for a while now.” 

His voice was deep and on edge as he accused you of having dirty thoughts about him. Always so cocky, he couldn’t help but tease you in such a vulnerable position. 

“In your dreams O’Hara.” You fought back from on top of him, your voice only wavering slightly from the pleasure of your current state. 

He wasn’t expecting you to be such a smartass. He lifted you with the grip he had on your hips and pushed you back onto the bed, staying inside of you as he maneuvered your bodies. 

“What was that?” He was asking with an edge of annoyance in his voice. 

You couldn’t repeat yourself; couldn’t even think straight due to the sweet gratification of finally feeling him moving inside of you. Declan was thrusting into you at a slow pace, but he was driving deep with every movement.

“Cute that you thought I’d let you be in charge.” He was almost chuckling above you, but you could hear the words faltering at his own pleasure. 

“Now be the sweet little thing we both know you are and take it like a good girl.” His voice was breaking with grunts and groans as he pushed deeper into you with each thrust. 

You really didn’t care if his words were degrading, you would let him win this battle if it meant he’d keep fucking you like this. 

Your fingers were reaching up to intertwine in his hair, clutching and pulling at his dark locks and earning a deep moan from the man above you. His hips were snapping into you at a delicious pace and your hands were losing their grip in his hair only to slide down his back, leaving marks in their wake.

The sound of him mercilessly plunging into you was masked by the breathy noises falling from his lips. The sounds he was making were all the proof you needed to know he wanted this just as badly as you did. Both of you had been so desperate to be touched, to be appreciated, to finally feel some sort of release; the growing tension between you acted as a catalyst for your grand undoing. 

You were so wound-up, your release just within reach as Declan continued to hit a spot that had you whimpering out his name. 

“Fuck- so good.” His mumbles were nearly incoherent as he kept a quick pace against your body. 

“Gonna cum for me? I can feel ya sweetheart.” 

All of the endearing nicknames he was giving you were starting to add to the fuel of your pending relief. Maybe you had wanted this all along– maybe you longed to have Declan calling you sweet little names as he fucked his frustrations out on you. Everything about the current situation had your toes curling and your body tensing. 

“So tight baby.” His head was falling to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing as he mumbled sweet nothings into your skin. 

He kept going and you were whining out in pleasure as you let the pressure building within you disperse, your release crashing onto you. Declan hardly acknowledged your orgasm, he just continued thrusting into you even harder than before.

You were squeezing and clenching around him as he fucked you through your orgasm and the feeling of it had him losing his mind. 

“God, I can’t take it anymore.” He was groaning into your neck as he drove into you at an insane pace. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good around me like that angel.” 

The feeling of him sliding in and out of you had you biting your lip from pure overstimulation. His words were so breathless and drawn out; just mumbles coming from a man on the edge of ecstasy, but they were turning you on in a way you couldn’t even understand. So you dug your nails ever so slightly into his shoulder blades bringing his body closer to yours, your chests meeting and heaving against one another. 

“Gonna cum sweetheart.” He was panting out a warning of his release, but you didn’t let him pull away, instead you pushed him further into you, signaling your need to have him finish deep inside. 

That’s what did him in; you grabbing at him, begging him to cum inside of you with the pull of his body against yours. Fuck it was hot. He was coming undone in seconds. The rush of his orgasm causing the filthiest profanities and whimpers to tumble out of his mouth. He was driving deep into you with each twitch of his cock, filling you with his warmth. 

“didn’t realize you’d be so good in bed.” you were smirking underneath his body, now lazily collapsed on top of you.

“must’ve felt good getting all of your pent-up frustration out.” Patting him condescendingly on the back, your sarcastic words flowed out as a breathless whisper.

Wearing an entertained expression, Declan Shifted his weight just enough to glance at you with an eyebrow raised.

“And I’m sure you enjoyed getting to let loose for once.” Returning your sarcasm with a jab of his own, he replied.

“Probably good for you to be a little bad sometimes.”

He was copying your demeaning gesture and patting you gently on the head, convinced that he had won this round.

my masterlist

[thatonebirdwrites]

Not only that, the fucking jackasses, who don't know ANYTHING about the systems they're tampering with, are COMMITTING LIVE CODE WITHOUT TESTING IT to the Treasury Payment Systems. See here (Wired reporting) and here (an expert weighting in). This "move fast and break things" mentality will KILL people.

You CANNOT do that with government systems without months if not a year or so of thorough testing. And yet, they have failed to do even the a day of testing. None of them are federal workers, it's unknown whether they even had background checks, and they refuse to give their real names to actual federal employees.. (Honestly, that mentality shouldn't exist PERIOD. Techbros use it to try to get around laws and regulations, and end up harming folks more than helping.) I'm not even joking about this. Disabled people rely on the payment system working for our healthcare and survival needs. Please Care About Other People. Disabled people like myself deserve to live too, and what's happening can and likely will kill us. There should be people lining up to block them from entering. Make the fuckers fight to get through. Senators should be blockading entrance. Make the fuckers drag the Senators off in handcuffs, which will only prove all our points. Again, this is a fucking coup by entitled neo-Nazi pricks who want us to live in an Musky-rat-company, where Musk controls everything. That's their ultimate goal. But they can't do that unless they can leverage the Treasury to force the rest of the government to capitulate to their demands. MUSK HAS NO REAL AUTHORITY unless we cede it to him. He pretends he does because he's Trump's friend, but he was not elected, he was not confirmed, his "DOGE" office was never endorsed or confirmed by the Senate, and thus everything he does is illegal and/or unconstitutional.

Call Congress to DO something.

Protest what is happening, but be SMART about it. Do NOT invite police to a protest. You Cannot Trust Police. Many of them are in bed with the far-right.

Protest Tips:

Wear a mask with and safety glasses. (Harder to identity you and it protects you from smoke, tear gas, and diseases.

Do Not Bring Your Phone. Or at the very least Do NOT turn it on as it can be used to identify you or obtain your location.

Do NOT advertise the details of the protest and who is coming to the protest all over social media. Share about the protest's start locations as needed in your groups, but don't advertise it's march pattern or its end goal location or who is attending. These conversations about the march route, goal location, assigned roles, and etc need to happen either in-person with all phones off OR use Signal, an encrypted chat. You want to limit what the surveillance state can pull from posts.

Have designated medics who can help in case of injury or if Police try to shoot people or throw tear gas.

Have designated frontline people. These are the people at the front of the protest, the ones that are most likely to deal with police and/or fascists first. Use make-shift shields to help protect frontline people.

Have designated people who assist those with disabilities to make sure they care able to stay safe and escape if things turn sour. Stay with your assigned peeps!

Have a designated protest partner to help watch your back. Stay with your assigned peeps!

Have designated suppliers, who carry supplies for medics and/or frontline and/or other roles.

Have a plan in case the police try to kettle protesters. A kettle is when police block off routes to escape, thus trapping protestors in a smaller area. This is done to shut down protestors, demoralize, frighten, and mass arrest. Make sure everyone knows the plan and abides by it.

Write on your arm the numbers of lawyers and/or people you can contact in case of arrest.

I'll leave this handbook here in case you all find use out of it. If others have tips, feel free to add them.

I already shared/wrote a post on community care and safety plans here (that was kindly expanded on by censoredsecret).

These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.

Akash Bobba

Edward Coristine

Luke Farritor

Gautier Cole Killian

Gavin Kliger

Ethan Shaotran

Spread their names!

[nameless-jamie]

✨💖 The vibes of your writing are immaculate. And I love your series and the new chapters. Would you ever write about an anxious/ shy reader?

Blush

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! shy receptionist reader

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Are you ready for a looooong one? Thank you for the request! I had a whole field-day writing this because I myself am pretty shy in real life. That's why it is veeery long. I actually also had another few paragraphs of the morning after their date, but I edited it out because I guess it would've been too long.

The AFC Richmond front desk was Y/N’s safe space. She had a whole routine. Come in early, set up at the front desk, answer calls, and avoid unnecessary conversations. She liked her job as a receptionist—AFC Richmond had always felt like a family, even if she sometimes felt like the quiet cousin at the reunion. She had her friends, though: Will, the ever-cheerful kit man, Roy Kent, who, for some reason, had taken a liking to her despite his usual grumpy demeanor and of course Keeley!

Most people in the club were kind enough to respect that she wasn’t the most talkative person, even though it is literally her job to greet people.

Jamie Tartt was not most people.

Jamie was… different. Not in the way Roy was—gruff but secretly soft. Not in the way Ted Lasso was—easygoing and goofy. Jamie was loud, confident, and impossible to ignore. And worst of all, he had somehow decided she was his new favorite person to talk to.

“Alright, love?”

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. That familiar, cocky voice sent a nervous jolt straight through her. Slowly, she lifted her head, only to find Jamie leaning against her desk, arms crossed, signature smirk in place. It was too early in the morning for that level of handsomeness. Yup, Y/N had a crush on Jamie since she started working here. But, oh no, she would never make a move or even show it.

He grinned. “Hi, Jamie,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “C’mon, you gotta give me more than that. Thought we were mates by now.”

Mates. Right. Because that was a normal way to describe their dynamic—Jamie showing up at her desk every day, teasing her until she was a flustered mess, then walking away like it was just another training session.

Y/N cleared her throat, fingers tightening on her pen. “Do you… need something?”

Jamie tilted his head. “Nah. Just here to check in on my favorite receptionist.”

She bit her lip. “I’m the only receptionist.”

“That’s what makes it so easy.” He winked. “Just wanted to see you.”

God, he was relentless. And it wasn’t just the flirting—it was how easy he made it look, how effortlessly charming he was. Her face went hot instantly, and she ducked her head, pretending to be very interested in the email she had already finished.

Every time he saw her, he had some new way to fluster her, whether it was winking at her from across the hallway, complimenting her dress, or just plain staring at her until she got nervous.

It wasn’t fair. He was a world-class footballer, and she was… well, the receptionist.

Before she could figure out how to respond, Will the kitman appeared, grinning. “Oh, is this the daily ‘Jamie makes Y/N blush’ session? Should I be taking bets?”

“Shut up, Will,” she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

Jamie, completely unfazed, smirked. “You should. I’d win every time.”

Roy walked by just then, glancing at the scene before stopping. He squinted at Jamie, then looked at Y/N, who was still avoiding eye contact.

“What the fuck is goin’ on here? Is the prick bothering you?”

“Actually...Jamie’s bullying me,” Y/N blurted out and pointed at the latter, because she found it funny how Jamie shrunk in Roy's presence. She can be a tease if she wants to.

Jamie clutched his chest like he's been shot. “Bullying? Me? Love, I’m flirting. If I was bullying ya, you’d be crying.”

“I don't like any of you, but you,” Roy jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit makin’ her uncomfortable, Tartt.”

Jamie held up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s not uncomfortable. Are ya, love?”

Y/N hated that the question made her heart race. He was looking at her like she was the only person in the room, like her answer actually mattered.

“No! I mean—well—I—I mean, it’s fine,” she mumbled.

Jamie grinned like she had just told him she loved him. “See? She likes me.” Roy groaned.

Roy let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re both fuckin’ idiots.” Then he jabbed a finger at Jamie. “Quit pissin’ her off.”

“Never,” Jamie shot back cheerfully.

Roy muttered something under his breath and stomped off.

Will snickered. “Roy’s gonna end up chaperoning your first date at this rate.”

Y/N let out a strangled noise. “There is no first date!”

Jamie, though, just smirked. “Not yet.” Then he winked and strolled off, leaving her an absolute, blushing mess at the front desk.

The next few days were worse.

Ever since Jamie’s little not yet comment, Y/N had been on high alert. She tried to convince herself that he was just joking, just messing with her like he always did. But then he started upping his game.

It wasn’t enough that he stopped by her desk every morning—no, now he had to wink at her across the hallway, greet her with a Good mornin’, love like he was starring in some kind of rom-com, and worst of all, he started waiting for her after work.

The first time it happened, she thought it was a coincidence.

“Oi, you’re taking really long,” Jamie said, leaning against the front doors of the clubhouse, arms crossed as she finally stepped outside.

She blinked. “What… are you doing here?”

“Waitin’ for ya, obviously,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “S’not safe for a pretty little thing like you to walk alone.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “I—I always walk alone.”

Jamie frowned like this was a deeply troubling fact. “Well, that’s fuckin’ tragic, innit?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Colin and Isaac, who where the last to leave besides the locker room, grinned. “Ooooh, bodyguard Jamie.”

Jamie smirked. “Damn right.”

“You’re not my bodyguard. He's really not.” Y/N muttered in her soft voice, slinging her bag around her shoulder.

Jamie only grinned wider. “Nah, but I could be.”

Colin gave her a pointed look. “You should just let him walk you home. You know he’s not gonna give up.”

Y/N sighed. They were both right—Jamie Tartt was nothing if not persistent.

So, against her better judgment, she let Jamie walk her home.

And then he did it again. And again.

And again.

By the end of the week, it was just a part of her routine, like he had wormed his way in without her even realizing. He’d meet her at the doors, hands in his pockets, waiting for her like he had all the time in the world. They’d talk, mostly about silly things—Jamie complaining about Roy, Y/N teasing him about his shoe obsession, Jamie trying to make her laugh.

And she did laugh. More than she had in a long time.

Which was exactly why it was terrifying.

Because Jamie Tartt was flirty, and charming, and kind, and so out of her league that it was almost funny.

And yet…

She caught him looking at her sometimes. Not in the way most guys did, not like she was just another girl to conquer. It was softer, something she couldn’t quite place. Like he actually liked being around her.

Which was ridiculous. Right?

She was still trying to make sense of it all when, one afternoon, the teasing from the team finally reached its peak.

She was organizing paperwork at her desk when Dani Rojas, Sam Obisanya, and Colin strolled past.

“Sooo, Jamie and the receptionist,” Dani said in a sing-song voice.

Y/N froze. Oh no.

Colin grinned. “Yup, they’d be cute together.”

“I think they are already together,” Sam added thoughtfully.

Y/N choked on absolutely nothing. “Uhm- No actually we are not together.”

Dani gasped. “But he walks you home every night!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

Sam and Colin exchanged a knowing look.

“But you like him,” Colin said, pointing at her.

“No, I don’t.”

“You do,” Sam said. “And he definitely likes you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then—

“I definitely like who?”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

The universe hated her. That was the only explanation for why Jamie Tartt had appeared at the exact worst moment, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Dani beamed. “We were just talking about how you and Y/N like each other.”

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even blink. He just turned to her, a slow, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I mean, I do.” he said, then turned to her. “That true, love, you like me?”

Y/N clenched her jaw, face burning. “I don't like any of you.” She mumbled.

Colin grinned. “That’s not a no.”

Jamie chuckled, eyes locked on her. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll admit it eventually.”

And then, just like always, he winked and walked off, leaving her to suffer.

Dani patted her shoulder sympathetically and ran out the door. “You should just date him.”

“I should just quit,” she muttered to herself.

But we all know she wouldn’t.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t really want to.

Y/N had two choices this next week:

Continue pretending that Jamie Tartt wasn’t blatantly flirting with her every single day.

Accept that she was completely, undeniably screwed.

She tried to go with Option 1. She really did. But then Jamie started making it impossible.

It wasn’t just the daily morning greetings anymore. Now, he even brought her coffee.

“Dunno what ya drink, so I got three different kinds”

He sat across from her at lunch even when she definitely did not invite him, and—worst of all—kept finding excuses to touch her.

A light hand on her shoulder when he walked past. A nudge of his knee against hers when they sat near each other. Once, when she had been carrying a heavy box of paperwork, he had taken it right out of her hands, smirking at her grumbled protests.

It was driving her insane.

She was still overthinking all of it when she got to work one morning and found Jamie already there, leaning against her desk like he had nothing better to do.

She frowned. “Why are you here before me?”

Jamie grinned. “Missed ya, didn’t I?”

Her brain short-circuited. “You—what?”

Jamie just shrugged like he hadn’t just sent her into cardiac arrest.

“I have missed you, did I not." he repeated himself doing his best to talk accent-free, as if she didn't understand him the first time.

"Also, I might’ve left my headphones in the gym. But mostly the first thing.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “You… are insufferable.”

“Yeah, but I assume you love it.”

She did not. Except—okay, maybe she didn’t hate it. And maybe, just maybe, she had started to enjoy their little routine. Fuck, she loved it.

Which was exactly why it was so unfair that Roy Kent had to go and ruin everything.

Because of course, right as Jamie was giving her one of those stupid flirty smirks, Roy appeared out of nowhere like a grumpy, swearing bat signal.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N groaned. “Roy, Hi! Jamie was just—”

“No,” Roy cut her off, pointing aggressively between her and Jamie. “I cannot watch this anymore.”

Jamie blinked. “Watch what?”

Roy let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “This. The fuckin’ pining. The flirting. The lookin’ at each other like a couple of lovesick puppies.”

Y/N’s soul left her body. “We do not do that.”

“You absolutely do,” Roy grumbled pointing at Y/N. “ You're doin' it right fucking now! It’s disgustin’.”

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t even pretend to be offended. He just raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “So, you have been lookin’ at me?”

“I—no!”

Roy groaned. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie said, laughing as he held up his hands. “I get it. You think we should just shag and get it over with.”

Y/N choked. “Jamie!”

Roy looked physically ill. “That is not what I’m sayin’.”

Jamie smirked. “So, you want me to take her on a proper date, then.”

Roy stared at him like he was debating whether or not to commit actual murder.

“I hate you,” Roy muttered. “But yeah, you’re both bein’ fuckin’ stupid, so someone’s gotta do somethin’ about it.”

Jamie turned back to Y/N, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You hear that, love? Roy Kent’s givin’ us his blessing.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Roy let out another long-suffering sigh and turned to leave. “Just sort it out before I retire, yeah?”

Once he was gone, Y/N peeked up at Jamie, who was still smirking at her like she was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen.

“You do like me,” Jamie said smugly.

She groaned. “I am going to throw myself into the Thames.”

Jamie just grinned. “Nah, you won’t.”

Y/N didn’t know how it happened. It was the day after the incident.

One second, Jamie was teasing her at the front desk like usual, and the next—

“So, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?”

She blinked. “What?”

Jamie smirked. “Our date, love. Thought we should make it official, yeah?”

Official. As if this wasn’t already the most humiliatingly obvious crush in all of AFC Richmond. As if half the team hadn’t already been placing bets on when Jamie would finally get his act together and ask her out.

She swallowed hard. “You’re… serious?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Obviously. Been serious since the day I met ya.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Um,” she said intelligently.

Jamie’s smirk softened into something… gentler. “Look, if you don’t wanna, that’s alright. I can handle rejection. Probably. I actually never been rejected,” He grinned. “But I reckon we’d have a good time.”

She was so screwed.

“…Seven?” she squeaked out.

Jamie beamed. “Seven’s perfect.”

And that was how Y/N found herself sitting across from Jamie Tartt at a very nice restaurant, wondering how she ended up here.

Jamie, to his credit, was being ridiculously sweet. No teasing, no cocky comments—just full-blown, charmingly attentive Jamie.

He pulled out her chair for her. He asked her about her day (and actually listened). He even gave her his jacket when she shivered, despite insisting she was fine.

But now, as she stared at the menu, her anxiety was creeping in.

The restaurant was a bit fancier than she was used to. And while she technically knew how to read a menu, the pressure of making a decision in front of Jamie was immense.

She didn’t want to pick something stupid. Didn’t want to mispronounce anything. Didn’t want to hold up the waiter.

So, when the server came over, she panicked and just pointed at something random.

The problem? It was not what she wanted.

She realized it too late, eyes widening as the waiter scribbled down the order and walked off.

Jamie noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “I… I meant to order something else.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

She swallowed. “I—I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Jamie’s face softened.

“Babe,” he said, voice low and warm, “you’re never a bother.”

Before she could even process that, Jamie waved the waiter back over without hesitation.

“Hey, mate,” Jamie said easily. “Think we got the wrong order—she actually wanted the pasta.”

The waiter nodded, jotted it down, and walked away without a fuss.

Y/N, meanwhile, wanted to melt into the floor. “I could’ve just eaten the other thing…”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. If you want pasta, you get pasta.”

She bit her lip. “I just—I don’t like making a fuss.”

Jamie leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her.

“I get it,” he said. “But you don’t gotta be scared with me, yeah? I like lookin’ out for ya.”

Her heart did something stupid.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Jamie grinned. “Good.”

And the thing was—he meant it.

All night, he made sure she was comfortable. He didn’t rush her when she had her shy moments, didn’t tease when she took a little longer to answer. Instead, he just smiled at her, soft and patient, like this—like her—was exactly where he wanted to be.

By the time the check came, Y/N had stopped second-guessing everything.

Because Jamie liked her, exactly as she was.

And maybe—just maybe—she was finally starting to believe it.

Jamie insisted on walking her home after the date.

“You know I always do that, love,” he had said when she tried to protest. “Can’t have ya gettin’ kidnapped, can I?”

She had rolled her eyes, but she didn’t fight him on it.

So now, they were strolling through the quiet streets, their hands occasionally brushing as they walked. Every time it happened, Y/N felt like she was about to combust, but Jamie acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “best date you’ve ever been on, yeah?”

Y/N smiled to herself. “You sound confident.”

Jamie smirked. “Well, obviously. I planned the whole thing, didn’t I?”

She laughed softly. “Alright, I’ll admit it—it was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah? Who knew I was a proper romantic?”

“You are,” she murmured, half to herself.

Jamie glanced at her, his smirk faltering into something softer. His voice dropped. “Careful, love. Keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to kiss ya.”

Her breath caught.

Jamie must’ve noticed, because his smirk came back—smaller now, more teasing than cocky. He nudged her shoulder with his. “Relax, I'm just joking, yeah? Not gonna do anything you’re not ready for.”

That was the thing about Jamie—he flirted, teased, pushed just enough to make her heart race, but never too far. He knew her limits, never made her feel like she had to do anything just because it was expected.

She liked that about him. Really liked that about him.

Maybe that’s why, as they reached her front door, she hesitated.

Jamie stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Guess this is goodnight, then.”

She nodded, suddenly nervous.

Jamie chuckled. “You’re lookin’ at me like you wanna say somethin’.”

She swallowed hard, gathering every ounce of courage she had. “I just… wanted to thank you. For tonight.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Was my pleasure, love.”

She took a shaky breath. “It really was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Jamie’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

And then, before she could overthink it—before she could let the nerves ruin it—she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

It was quick, just a press of her lips against his, but Jamie froze like she had just short-circuited his entire brain.

By the time she pulled back, her face was burning. “Um. Goodnight.”

She turned, reaching for her keys, but before she could even get the door open, Jamie’s voice stopped her.

“Oi.”

She turned hesitantly.

Jamie was grinning. Beaming.

“That was—” he said, voice warm and full of love, “you are full of surprises.”

And with that, he gave her one last lingering look before stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away.

Y/N stood there for a moment, heart racing, before slipping inside and leaning against the door.

She had kissed Jamie Tartt.

And by the look on his face—he was definitely going to kiss her again.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

Cater: Whew～ Today's Alchemy class was a real brain wiggler. What class do I got next… Hm?

Cater: Hey… Is that you Leona-kun? Woah, that's a surprise, are you just getting out of class too?

Leona: Shut your trap already… It's got nothing to do with you, Cater.

Cater: No, no, I just wanted to give you the drop on a bit of info. Do you know what tomorrow is?

Cater: You see, it's YA BOI CAY-KUN'S BIRTHDAY ♪

Leona: Oh. Good for you.

Cater: NO REACTION!? I mean, I guess I knew that was coming～

Cater: Shoulda known it wouldn't be easy to get a warm birthday greeting from ol' Leona-kun.

Leona: What nonsense are you spouting? I just did.

Cater: What, you mean when you said "good for you"? C'mon, you just threw that out there 'cause you had to～

Cater: If you're gonna say something, you gotta put more heart into it, not just toss me a few words here and there ♪

Leona: Your birthday's tomorrow, ain't it? I couldn't possibly be rude and wish you a happy birthday the day before all your fellow housemates have a chance to…

Leona: So, bye.

[Leona leaves]

Cater: There he goes again, spouting off whatever… Well, guess I should just consider myself lucky that we got to hold a convo and he didn't just ignore me.

Cater: Alrighty, then. Looks like my next class is Animal Linguistics. I got a feeling I'm gonna get called on today, so I should prep for it.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Cater: Woah, it's that delicious!? I wanna go right away… Oh, but I don't think I'll be able to until after next month.

Cater: Yeaaah, I did terrible on the last Magical History exam～ …Saaame, I wish those tests weren't basically one bit puzzle.

Cater: And also… Oh, we're already back to our rooms. Okay, night～

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

Cater: …Whew, finally I'm back.

Cater: I wasn't able to check Magicam while I was in the shower, so I should do that now.

Cater: Oh, looks like some of my old posts are getting likes too. I'm glad people are still seeing what I posted ages ago.

Cater: There's a few comments, too… Ugh, this question is waaay too long.

Cater: Not to mention, half of what they're saying has nothing to do with their question, they're just gabbing on about themselves. Ugggh… It's gonna be a pain to respond…

Cater: But if I leave it for later, I'll want to reply even less～ Guess I should give 'em a response ASAP then.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

Cater: "Except, that eye mask was a limited-time item, so if it's already sold out, sorry." …And, send. Was that all of them?

Cater: Whew～ I finally finished responding to everything. Guess now I can go check out everyone else's posts.

[phone pings]

Cater: Huh, who's post is this on trending right… Hey, it's that one guy! I can't believe they got a cat.

Cater: "Your cat looks so soft and suuuuper cute～! Can't wait for more pictures!"

[phone pings]

Cater: Ooh, I like the picture of this guitar. I wanna try customizing like this, too.

Cater: "I can't believe you did all this yourself! I'd love to see the play-by-play of how you made it next time."

[phone pings]

Cater: What else is there…? Oh, hey, I've heard of this Magicammer before. Looks like their video giving a tour of their room is hot right now.

Cater: Woah, that's hella cute! Both the floor and wallpaper are done up so meticulously. The entire room's been designed to mesh well with everything～!

Cater: The little trinkets they have scattered around their room are also all the rage right now, so they might be a good reference to keep in mind. I'll give them a follow.

Cater: Maaan, I wish I had a cute, pastel room like this. I bet they get tons of likes.

Cater: Oh, yeah. I kinda left it 'cause I didn't really have anything to say, but… Guess I could write a suggestion here.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Cater: It's been more or less smooth-sailing ever since I got a single room, so I didn't think I'd really have any complaints…

Cater: But this place is a bit too chic for the kinds of photos I want to post on Magicam. Maybe it's more accurate to say it's cute in an old-fashioned way?

Cater: The colors in the room are more on the darker side, which makes the videos come out too dark…

Cater: And it's a pain always having to lug out my photography equipment each time. I'll just write "I want more attractive walls and floors."

Cater: Honestly, I'd love to be able to do a room tour or a day-in-the-life routine video...

Cater: But I bet there'd be a ton of trouble I could get into when it comes to everyone's privacy if I'm shooting in and around the dorm, so that'd probably be impossible while I'm still attending school.

Cater: Mmkay, then… I'm already ready for bed, so I guess I'll just go to sleep early, ready to tackle the day tomorrow.

[fwumps into bed]

Cater: What time should I set my alarm for…? Oh, there's already a reply on my comment from earlier.

Cater: I should probably respond right away since they were also quick with it, huh… Hmm…

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

[alarm rings]

Cater: Mmm… Mrrrnngh… Is it morning already…?

Cater: Yawn… What time did I even fall asleep last night?

Cater: I think I was replying to a comment I got wishing me a happy birthday right at midnight… Did I fall asleep in the middle of that?

Cater: Looks like a got a lot more comments after that, too. I need to respond… But before that, there's something else I need to do today.

Cater: Can't just laze about here! I need to go to the washroom and wash my face ASAP!

Cater: My face is washed, and I did my skin care routine… So, let's get started!

Cater: The photography lights are turned on, the reflector board is adjusted, and my phone is on the tripod…

Cater: The plushes in the background are… Good, they're settled nicely on the bed.

Cater: There's nothing in the shot that shouldn't be. Perf, time to start the video!

[phone pings]

Cater: Hey-o everyone, it's Cay-kun! Today, I'm going to show off some base makeup items that's been my go-to these days.

Cater: First up… Here's the UV primer that just came out on the first of this month! I know this has been all the rage lately.

Cater: I've been using this every day since I bought it the day it came out ♪

Cater: And you know what's the best thing about this primer…? It's got no reflective shine at all!

Cater: It's got a nice toning effect, and I think it works well with just a little bit of powder on days when you don't really need to spruce yourself up too much.

Cater: I've fallen in love with it, 'cause whenever I wanna take a pic on the fly, all I have to do is dab a little here and there with a tissue and it looks like I did myself up in proper makeup ♪

Cater: Aaand it rolls on so smoothly, too. I'll apply some now to show you what I mean, so keep your eyes on the screen!

[phone pings]

Cater: …Nice, video done.

Cater: I'll snap a few pictures in the afternoon during break and put together a comparison picture, then edit the video… I guess I'll be able to upload it the day after tomorrow.

Cater: I still have to think about some other stuff like the background music, but I should focus on finishing my makeup for now.

Cater: It's my birthday, so I think I'm leaning towards using some of my more cuter cosmetics… Oh, I know.

Cater: I found it! Here's the glitter eyeliner that I got as a part of that limited-edition holiday cosmetic set!

Cater: Both the package it came in and the glitter itself is waaaaay too cute. I'll draw the line with this, and snap a pic to see…

[snap!]

Cater: Nice, I can see the glitter glimmering around my eye. This'll give my birthday photos a little bit of a different feel from usual.

Cater: As for my hair… Eh, I guess it's going a little too far if I did something with that too. I'll just massage in a little bit of wax and just set it like usual…

Cater: Perf, looks good. Hmmm… I still have a bit of time, so I guess I'll reply to all the birthday comments I got earlier.

Cater: I still need to record a birthday video, and I bet there'll be a party, or at least a get-together with the Pop Music Club...

Cater: Eheheh, I can't wait. I think I'll have enough content to upload to Magicam for a while!

[Main Street]

[Cater chats with everyone]

Cater: Yaay, thanks everyone! …Hm?

Cater: Who's that I spy walking over there…? Oh, hey, it's Leona-kun!

Leona: Cater…! Tch, what'd I do to be this unlucky?

Cater: Ehhh, you really gonna act like that in front of the birthday boooy?

Cater: So, anywaaaay… Remember how you said yesterday that you couldn't possibly be rude and wish me well the day before my birthday?

Cater: Which meeeeeans… Since we've met the day oooooof…

Leona: Yeah, yeah, you don't gotta tell me twice. …......Happy birthday.

Cater: Ahahah, I really got you of all people to wish me a happy birthday! This is gonna be a great year!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[soov]

despite whatever situations happened in our community, i want you to PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE FOLLOWING POST.

DONALD TR*MP JUST ANNOUNCED A PROJECT FOR THE ETHNICAL CLEANSING OF THE GAZA STRIP.

In his words : “The U.S. will take over the Gaza Strip, and we will do a job with it, too. We’ll own it and be responsible for dismantling all of the dangerous unexploded bombs and other weapons on the site, level the site and get rid of the destroyed buildings, level it out, create an economic development that will supply unlimited numbers of jobs and housing for the people of the area.” “I don’t want to be cute. I don’t want to be a wise guy. But the Riviera of the Middle East, this could be something that could be so — this could be so magnificent.”

i'm genuinely tearing up as i write this, and i beg you from the bottom of my heart, PLEASE, don't let this go unnoticed despite the things happening on enhablr or any other community. tr*mp is literally threatening to wipe gaza and all palestinians from the map.

there's an ETHNICAL CLEANSING AND DISPLACEMENT threatening to happen despite other country leaders avidly going against it. please, please don't ignore this, and don't ignore the fact that he said this right after a CEASEFIRE was announced. even then, gaza keeps being bombed and there's no sign of stopping or good news.

no matter where you live, i BEG YOU

BOYCOTT ANYTHING THAT MAY FUND ISR*EL.

boycott ANY brands that you can find near you. don't buy from them. don't buy from food chains you like if they support isr*el. don't buy from your favorite clothing brand if they support isr*el. don't watch a movie from disn*y or any other entertainment source because they support isr*el.

a guide on how to boycott

(almost) full list of brands you should boycott

DON'T STOP SHARING.

SHARE news from RELIABLE SOURCES about the things happening in gaza on your social media, DONATE, go to RALLIES, ATTEND to everything and any kind of event or parade that supports palestine in your city. EDUCATE yourself and the ones around you. DON'T DENY HELP to the ones here on tumblr. DON'T BE AFRAID of showing your support to gaza and palestine. the people there are the ones who should be frightened for their lives.

here is a long list of gazan aid.

additionally :

DAILY CLICK

ESIMS FOR GAZA

PETITION FOR FREE PALESTINE

WPF PALESTINIAN CHILDREN FOOD EMERGENCY

CAREFORGAZA SUPPORTING DISPLACED FAMILIES

SOME GFMS THAT NEED DONATIONS

MORE VETTED GFMS

(please check the tumblr tags #vetted gfm #gaza gfm and similar for more gofundmes)

some accounts to follow :

@.palestinianyouthmovement @.qudsn @.pslnational @.jewishvoiceforpeace

[littleakito]

HI HI HI HI HI. Angsty Dazai headcanons? Pretty please! With sprinkles on top even!

╰╮﹕★﹒ANGSTY LITTLE! DAZAI HEADCANNONS﹒🩹 TW WARNING.

AVERAGE DAZAI SHENANIGANS (suicide, sh, etc.), MENTIONS OF FORCED INJURY, EXTREME SELF LOATHING & SELF HATRED, DEHUMANIZATION. NOT TO BE READ WHEN REGRESSED (unless you like. hate yourself I guess? do what you want <3)

HEED THE WARNINGS.

୨୧ ：aah! finally getting to this hehehh.. I would have gotten to it sooner! but I need to be in an awfully specific mood to write angst.. tis odd! also! no cherry on top!!?!?! smh… /silly sprinkles are great though, sounds delicious mmmm..

1　 ﹒　Despising pain so much is quite a struggle when your brain has so much hatred towards yourself it begins to physically hurt, they say that once you grow hungry enough, you begin to eat your own heart. Dazai doesn’t have one of those, last he checked. So instead, his body begins to sacrifice his mindset for one of a much, much younger person.

It’s scary, even scarier when your anxiety is running rampant and rapid, coursing through your veins at an all time high. Vulnerability shouldn’t be such a scary thing, but when your most memorable experience with such is having your arms sliced open on a vivisection table, and tubes shoved down your throat, you begin to despise letting people see you as so.. small.

It’s even worse when you mentally feel so little, and the world around you begins to look like tall, scary faces, watching your every move.

2　 ﹒　Being oh so used to tainting all that he touches is rather tough, I feel as if he’s broken a pacifier before and had an absolute panic attack, god forbid someone allows him to hold a cup whilst he’s somewhat fuzzy, things will begin to blur the lines between sitting in Mori’s office, and being right in front of his caregiver.

3　 ﹒　When he betrayed the Port Mafia, he lost Chuuya. I wouldn’t entirely say that Chuuya was his “caregiver”, due to their oh so complicated relationship, but I would say that Chuuya was the closest thing he’s ever had to one. They’re both rotten, but that doesn’t entirely matter when you feel so sweet next to one another.

Whenever Dazai would begin to wish for him by his side, he would grow so much self hatred, how could he want something? How could he ever allow himself that treat of comfort, when he’s done nothing but be an awful, awful human being(? Is he even that, anymore?) towards both himself, and everyone around him.

He’s been biting and snapping at others for so long, that he’s begun to forget he, too, was bitten himself. That sorrow that taints him is a product of another person, who cherished him, yet only for his inability to feel cherished, and understand emotions in the first place, for that matter.

4　 ﹒　After time, if he ever began to feel even a little more comfortable in that state, he would begin to have extreme night terrors of his regression. He would begin to despise it, anything that brings him comfort should be banished, after-all. If he had a specific love for a certain toy or drink or stuffie, he would cry himself to sleep in a corner without it, all in punishment for existing in the first place.

If whatever god is out there created Dazai with the purpose of making a self loathing success of a black hole, destined to be hungry for love whilst tainting those around him, for all of eternity, they certainly are a master in their field.

୨୧ ：projected a lil too hard with my lil man methinks, anywho, I hope this is okay and at least partially in character! thank you sososo much for your request, ash! ‘twas fulfilling!

HEADER READS: “LITTLE DAZAI HEADCANNONS”

DNI BANNER READS “NSFW DNI” “HEY, DID YOU HEAR ME?” “CHILD SAFE BLOG”

[brokenpieces-72]

New Balance

Note: This one has been sitting in my notes for a bit, and was inspired by a photo of Neil Ellice in a white sweater, and no mohawk. From there I got the idea of Soap surviving the bullet but there would still be consequences.

Amnesia, is what they told Johnny. They were able to provide him with proper living and even provided him with some work. He was encouraged to attend therapy but it wasn’t required. Some times he went if only to talk some stuff out. Johnny had a good life though. The neighbours were friendly, he had a contractor who hired him for consulting and odd jobs, decent income, and on occasion took in foster animals. Yet something always felt missing from his life. They didn’t tell him anything about his past. A clean slate, a fresh start. Then why did feel stale?

Johnny opened his eyes with a gasp and sat upright. Another dream about death. Honestly, he was considering returning to his therapist about it. He checked his clock and saw he’d woken up before his alarm again. Seriously 4AM? Again? He tried to go back to sleep but the image of a skull dressed in black kept burning into his mind. Johnny, fed up with his fruitless efforts sat up and pulled out the notepad he’d started keeping by his bed, writing down what he’d seen in his sleep. At least he could add it later on before it vanished from his head again. Johnny tried to go back to sleep grumbling to himself about his mind not letting him ignore what he’d witnessed. He maybe got an extra hour or two of just relaxing and resting before his alarm went off.

The amnesiac got out of bed, and did the usual morning routine. A small work out today, he didn’t feel up to a full one. Breakfast was simple enough, and he could pick something up on the way to his regular job. Shower, dressed, checking his pack to make sure he had everything, lunch made up. An hour to spare, with enough time to grab a bite to eat.

Johnny went to work and headed to the tire shop immediately. Fall was when everyone got their tires changed over and he could work quickly. Mix that with night stocker and he was able to cover decent enough ground. Plenty of friendlies around him, people teaching him how the warehouse worked, and people for him to teach. It also meant a lot of energy lost by the end of the night. Yet somehow sleep wanted to leave early almost every night.

He came in to find a kid cross training in the shop, still learning by getting the vehicles lifted and nuts and bolts off the tires. The noise the power socket made when it was grinding against the nuts was evident of their lacking experience. It was loud and almost sounded like gun fire. It went on for a while, of them tightening the bolts more than they maybe should. The sound was not new but it did give him a bit of anxiousness.

“Aye!” He shouted to the kid. They stopped and looked back at him. “The bolt is on, move on to the next one and get it torqued.”

“Yes sir.” You responded. The loud bang of tires breaking pulled Johnny back to where he was supposed to be. A few needed to be balanced, so he got to work on that, removing the weights, and getting new ones on.

You could curse up a storm, clearly frustrated with the screws and the weight of the tires. You were crouching so yeah that can be sore on the ankles with extra weight after a while. The concrete floors were pleasant on the knees either. Johnny noticed you looking around and fiddling with the socket, which was stuck to the nut of the wheel. Johnny finished up and called for you reading your name tag.

“I can’t get it out, I don’t know what I did wrong.” You said distressed. Johnny could deal with it.

“Get these on to the one in bay two. I’ll fix this.” Johnny said, offering a newly balanced tire. You got right on it, quickly. At least you had that down. Unfortunately you seemed to be making plenty of mistakes. Not your fault, some were out of your control. The bolts were sticky on some, others were hard to find the lift points. You kept apologizing, with some of the other employees as well.

Johnny had you as a night stocker in his department. Worked hard and quick but fell behind sometimes. Sometimes Johnny had to remind you to pick up the pace. You just needed a few pointers, and reminders to stay focused.

The day was tiring. Eventually it ended though. As Johnny gave his farewell to the older manager lady, he stepped out to let the cold air fill his lungs. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to relax before the drive back home.

You were sitting at the picnic table just outside the exit door. You were shivering a little, and checking your phone. A little young for you to be out here alone. Late to be out here alone. Johnny had finished later giving him some over time, but you finished sooner than him. Chilly out too.

“Oi kid?” Johnny said. You looked up, arms folded, shivering and hunched over. “You getting picked up?”

“My uh… my uncle was supposed to pick me up, but… guess he forgot. Just waiting for someone to come.”

“Don’t ya live near me?” Johnny asked. You gave him your address, and yep, it was maybe a five minute drive from away from his place. “Want a ride?”

“You sure?”

Johnny jerked his head. “Not that far out of my way.”

You got off the table and followed the older man, the backpack slung over your shoulder. Johnny didn’t mind driving a little further down the road.

“Sorry for causing any trouble today.” You said.

“Stuff happens. Don’t worry too much.” Johnny assured her. You started chatting with him, learning more about him, and he learned more about you. Little artist who had your sketchbook out every day before starting your shift, played video games, and liked animals.

Once they reached your home, Johnny let you get out but waited as you went up to the door. The uncle was supposed to leave the spare key out or the door unlocked. Johnny already didn’t trust this. He watched as you fumbled around the door trying to get in. Johnny got out of his car and beckoned you back in. No way in hell he would let you stay on the porch.

He got you in his car and drove to his place.

You kept saying sorry. Johnny told you again, it was fine. Besides he didn’t mind the company, living alone. If anything he was concerned you might be the one uncomfortable. A blanket was found and a pillow, and you curled up on the couch. You fell asleep before Johnny could say good night. It was a lot of work, he doesn’t blame you.

The next morning though you were gone. A note was left saying you’d gone back home, and thanking him for letting you stay the night. Johnny shrugged it off, got breakfast made and some small work done before heading off to work himself. He expected you to be at work at least and you showed up early once again. Almost an hour early. He didn’t know if your perception of time was off but then he saw you in your sketchbook. The doodles were pretty cute, and he realized it was the kittens he was fostering. Once his stuff was ready he sat down next to you and asked about your work. Another apology for sleeping and dipping, and then he got his answers.

A couple of weeks passed by, and you had come around to Johnny’s place a few times to stay the night. Johnny didn’t mind putting you up, but he told you to get a spare key so you could get back in your house. A few times you did get picked up, and Johnny tried to talk to your uncle. Each time he missed out, or the Uncle told him he didn’t have time to talk. Johnny would let it go, shaking his head.

In the tire shop, the noise was high. When tightening the bolts, on the wheels, once tight the loud clicking from the socket unable to move can be loud, and grinding. Johnny found himself looking up every time it rang out. The night before, his sleep had been riddled with shouts and gunfire. The kid was doing it, to make sure the wheel was on properly, to reduce the work of torquing. A few others were as well, but it kept pulling Johnny’s attention, making him stare off. It was making his heart thump harder in his chest, and the air to thin around him. The manager had to snap him out of it a few times, offering to take over whatever he was working on.

You took notice of him a few times but assumed he just got distracted. It started to be a pattern though, and with the busy schedule and getting backed up, there wasn’t much time to stand around. You finished bagging the tire you were on, loading it in the back of a car. Johnny was right by the pile of junk tires, bracing himself against one of them. Without a word, you touched Johnny’s arm bringing him to reality again. Johnny tried to go back to work, but no. You were insistent on him stepping out of the shop to get some water.

“I haven’t been keeping you up have I?” You asked.

“No no… m’fine. Ah’m just…” Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. You told him to wait outside in the quieter part of the shop, and went back in to get Johnny one of the mini chocolates someone bought for the tire shop team.

“Take a minute. Have some water. Have your chocolate. Come back in when you’re ready.” You said. Johnny nodded, appreciating the your concern for him. Yeah, he needed a break. If it was to get away from being overwhelmed then that was fine. You disappeared back into the shop while Johnny sighed, leaning against a stack of tires. Yeah that chocolate felt good along with the cold water washing it down.

The dream felt too real last night. It was a fast blur but a few things had stood out to him, having seen them before previous nights. The thing that should’ve haunted him was seeing death. He swore that’s what it was, the grim reaper. There were times he swore he saw it outside of his house too but passed it off as just nerves. It should haunt him… so why didn’t it?

“Aye. Try to stay awake.” Johnny said, nudging you in the passenger seat. You yawned and stretched in your seat as much as you could. Both of you were exhausted. Johnny had been getting plenty of commissions for consulting, along with regular work. You had been working overtime quite a bit lately. Thank god the weekend was tomorrow. Johnny had offered to let you stay the night, seeing you drag yourself through the last couple of work days. You could sleep in hopefully, instead of taking off before the sun could.

“M’tryin…” You said sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Ya did good today.” He said, hoping conversation would help keep you awake.

“Thanks for letting me stay tonight.” You said.

“I’m not driving all the way to your place tonight, and I cannae let you go walking by yourself.” Johnny exclaimed.

Once you got to Johnny’s place, he let the you in, and then turned around. The road wasn’t very well-lit but he scanned the trees and houses anyways. It was a more rural area, less people and houses, so someone standing and watching like Michael Myers catches peoples’ attention. Yet the only thing stirring was the trees from the wind. Johnny was alert, trying to discern shapes and rule them out as anomalies.

“Johnny?” You asked from behind. Johnny didn’t say anything, instead stepped inside, still watching before shutting the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m.” Johnny assured you, but he wasn’t so sure himself. You didn’t press. Only asked where the spare blanket was. Johnny wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch tonight, and instead led you to the small guest room he had. You seemed to appreciate that, thanking him and offering a hug. Johnny gladly accepted the offer.

Once Johnny left you to wash up and tuck yourself in, he went to the kitchen. Then he started to draw the curtains, not wanting anyone to see inside his home. After that he went to the basement and inside a small closet in a makeshift office space. It was under lock and key, one that Johnny kept on him at all times. Unlocking it he took inventory of the small weapons stash he had, seeing if anything had been taken out without him noticing. Everything was accounted for. He shut the doors and locked it back up.

Johnny wasn’t a stranger to pattern recognition. After having a few dreams of death he knew it meant something. He wasn’t willing to talk to his therapist about it. But by now, he’d started to piece some things together about his past. In a side room next to the closet, was a chair. A chair sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by thoughts, ideas, notes, scribbles and even news clippings that Johnny had collected over the past couple months or so. It was a lot, with not a single spot of the painted dry wall peeking through. Johnny couldn’t even remember the colour of the walls. He tried to add something each night, especially after having dreams of him being in high adrenaline situations, with gunfire and shouting and death. Yes, couldn’t forget about death.

Not tonight. Take a break tonight. Johnny was worn out and fixating would just make him feel even more tired the next day. He would be fine tomorrow, a long sleep, a good breakfast, and chilling with you. That he could live with.

Outside, he watched his old friend stare out from his front porch looking. Did Johnny know who he was looking for? Maybe. Unlikely. Just to be safe, he moved into cover, as you called Johnny into the house. He’d seen you leave from Johnny’s house more than once, and hurry home. After a while he was going to pack it in, assuming Johnny had gone to bed by now. Then Johnny did something he hadn’t expected. Johnny drew the curtains closed. There were no signs of Johnny after that, but the curtains were a sign themselves.

Johnny’s gut hadn’t changed. The drawn curtains were to keep prying eyes from looking in. What prying eyes could Johnny be avoiding? Or was it him that Johnny was concerned about?

He waited a couple hours before finally walking away, keeping himself inconspicuous as he headed to his vehicle. If Johnny was remembering it could be a good thing. The question was whether Johnny would be willing to come back after everything he’d made for himself.

After a few seconds of mulling it over Simon drove back to the safe house.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf

[wowbright]

Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting in the spring of 2020 through falling in love.

Note: Back during the COVID lockdowns I wrote a couple hundred words of Klaine lockdown meet-cute. I thought I would write more, but I guess I didn't feel like writing about the COVID lockdown during the COVID lockdown, so I never did and I never posted the tiny bit I had written. Thanks to Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025, I’m finally doing the thing! I'm trying to keep each chapter to around 500 words. Thanks @spaceorphan!

AO3

~~~

Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Blaine was going to go insane.

He knew he should be grateful. He had it better than a lot of other people. He didn't have to worry about where his next paycheck was coming from, because he didn't get a paycheck, because he was an idiot who had, for some reason, decided his fascination with birds was enough to carry him through another five years of school at minimum after completing college. More to the point, he received monthly distributions from a trust fund his grandparents had set up for him in their wills, and though it didn't make him filthy rich, it gave him enough to live on without having to worry about finances.

But he never would have moved in with Cooper if he’d known they'd be locked up together for weeks (or would it be months?) on end. He loved his brother, but his brother was a lot. At least they had separate bedrooms, plus Cooper had the recording studio and was staying fairly busy with audiobook work. Unfortunately, Cooper did not keep all of his acting and voice exercises to the studio. Nor did he keep his opinions to himself, no matter how many times Blaine said, “I'm not changing what I'm making for dinner,” and “This is what I choose to wear and your opinion has no bearing on the matter,” and “I'm sorry you can't go to the gym, but no, you do not have my permission to use me as a dumbbell for bench presses.”

Blaine was spending increasing amounts of time shut in his bedroom with ear plugs and noise canceling headphones on, working on compiling and coding his field research notes and, when that became too tiresome, checking recently submitted species sightings on ebird.org for potential errors.

Today, he was listening to his Upbeat Sexy With a Twist of Romance playlist—the one he used to listen to while getting dressed for a night out on the town. Oh, what a different time that had been. Now instead of gelling his hair while crooning along to Freddie Mercury singing Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy, whatcha doin’ tonight?  while hoping to get laid or better yet find love, he was bobbing along to the song while entering numbers into a spreadsheet.

But that could be good, too. The rhythm of the music combined with the spreadsheet sent him into a near hypnotic trance that made him forget time and boredom and COVID. It was as close as Blaine got to heaven these days.

A sudden weight on his shoulder jarred him out of his trance.

His brother period of course. Just when Blaine’s mind had found some semblance of peace, Cooper had to disturb it.

He removed his headphones and one ear plug. “What is it, Coop?”

“New lockdown project: I’m going to turbocharge my manscaping routine. I need waxing tips.”

“You interrupted my work for that?”

Cooper waved at the computer screen dismissively. “You should be thanking me. That must be incredibly boring. What do all those numbers even mean?”

Blaine looked at his brother. He looked at the numbers. He looked at his brother again. “I mean this with all due respect, but I seriously want to kill you right now.” He closed his eyes. He took a breath. “I'm going for a walk.”

Blaine had already been for a walk that morning. It was the migratory season, so of course he had. He’d gone out with his binoculars as soon as the sun started twinkling over the horizon. He’d ticked off twenty-seven species, including his first American redstart of the season along with plenty of palm and yellow-rumped warblers, but apparently two hours of birding in the morning wasn't enough to keep him sane.

He jumped from his chair, pulled on a jacket, and grabbed his binoculars. “I'm going to walk until I no longer feel murderous. Love you!” The door slammed behind him.

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🧜‍♂️

thanks for the tags @tizniz @spotsandsocks @bi-buckrights 💖 (seriously go check out their excellent snips!)

Look who finally moved past chapter 1! A lil snip of Eddie and Shannon’s HS graduation (I’m having a ball writing them young and lovey 🥹)

“And, with that, let’s give a final send off and congratulations to our graduating class!”

In a flurry of cheers, shouts, applause, and caps flying into the air, Eddie is finally done with high school. He can hardly believe it. Done with the insanity of standardized tests and filling in the little circles until he goes cross eyed. No more losing sleep because he was studying late into the night. Or, more accurately, making out with Shannon when they should have been studying.

However it happened, they made it to the end. Shannon will start at the community college in the fall, while he takes a gap year to save a little more money. He’s glad that she’s moving ahead and not waiting for him. Some of their classmates are doing that for people they’ll probably be broken up with by their second year. It’s kind of a dark outlook, but he’s not holding his breath on Taylor and Jonah having a lifelong romance.

“Hey, you.” Shannon snakes an arm around his back, smiling up at him in that way that makes her nose scrunch adorably and crinkles form around her eyes.

“Hey.” He shuts out the chaos of people connecting with their family and friends, dipping his head to give her a celebratory kiss. The principal made it abundantly clear ‘that type of behavior won’t be tolerated’ but they just graduated. He’s allowed to kiss his girlfriend if he wants. “Gotta tell you, that yellow robe is really working for you. Might have to find one for you to wear all the time.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that, stud.” She playfully shoves his shoulder, much more tastefully adorned in black.

Eddie snorts and then they both break into a fit of laughter. “Come on, let’s go find everyone.”

IDK who’s reading, writing, cares because of the exciting new promo but np tagging some folks

@actuallyitsellie @thelovewehad @a-noble-dragon @diazheartsbuckley @midsummersmorn @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @eddiebabygirldiaz @dr-shortsighted-owl @imtheiliad @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @thelikesofus @wildlife4life @eowon @rewritetheending @spaceprincessem @loucifersbitch @bekkachaos @bucksbignaturals @mmso-notlikethat @buddiekinard @acesartemis @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming and anyone else who wants to😘

[pricklythepear]

Of course! Your the person that made me start interacting with fandom instead of just lurking!

Your fics, especially Wild’s, give a new perspective or depth that I haven’t seen with other people, and in such a well written way; you are an amazing example of ‘Show, don’t Tell’ that still so clearly shows the characters and their thoughts.

You breathe such life into these characters, it gives them definition I hadn’t even thought was missing. You are an amazing writer, and amazing friend, and I am so happy to have gotten to meet you online <3

That feeling tho when you find that fic writer that just absolutely fucking

understands the characters to their core

writes so well they–just so–they just—their writing is—-THEY WRITE GOOD

shatters your bad mood with a new update

writes a fic that you can read over again and still clutch at your heart like HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE–I LOVE THIS FIC

writes a scene that has you all giddy in public and that one random stranger asks you like “ooo you are smiling :) :) is that a boy :) you are talking to :)” and you’re like “no I’m reading a Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies AU, please leave”

understands and portrays the characters better than the people who make MOVIES with those characters

amazing. just amazing. fic writers are awesome

[stealingyourbones]

Never will I stop with the steadfast notion that folks in the DPXDC fandom should interact with at least some form of canon DC media.

There are comics, tv shows, radio dramas both old and new, podcasts, movies, magazines, so much shit that intentionally avoiding the media is simply preventing yourself from spawning new ideas and gaining a new appreciation for a fandom that you’re already in.

The Superman Radio Show has episodes 11 minutes long. A lot of the TV shows don’t have episodes that surpass 30 minutes and most are nearly fully clipped on the official DC YouTube channel. The amount of fan made motion comics is astounding. The amount of fanmade animations is equally as incredible.

[conkreetmonkey]

yk what. Maybe I will hop on the trend and take a break from American political news for a while. I don't even live there so it won't affect me, unless it does in which case Canadian news outlets will report on it. I trust my muties will let me know if the shit really hits the fan. There's no way I won't hear, anyway, my housemates are all pretty into the news anyway. I really don't stand to benefit from any of it, and in the situations where I genuinely need to be informed of something, I'll still find out. All it'll do is make me upset, and I really don't need that in my life rn. thx @gummy-worms-in-my-brain for suggesting it last night. I thought about what you said, and you were right, so. Blocking some tags, setting up some filters, all that jazz.

[good-beanswrites]

I've been thinking about alien stage and milgram so

All in (Hyuna and Till) but it's with Kotoko and Fuuta

OOHH I've been going crazy over this -- I've only touched on Milgram/Alien Stage aus a bit but now I'm hooked 👀 I was playing around for a while with how to incorporate the song specifically, and had a ton of fun with this lyric/scene experiment, haha! I was shocked at how well the song would suit them even in Milgram canon... I used gender neutral descriptions for the Mizi-character because I'm not sure who people would picture for that role, and wanted to leave it open. Also um. tw major character death :( sorry.

Your eyes grow wide at my dazzling entrance, and your heart beats fast, OK! There's no point fighting back – this is the march of the fools.

The rebel leader stands proudly on the stage. Her followers practically howl at her arrival. Their gathering spot may have been a secret, but they didn’t bother being quiet about their excitement. The tides are turning, and everyone feels it. It doesn’t matter what kind of front the aliens put up; everyone knows the fear that their leader strikes into her enemies. Every planet, moon, and ship knows what she’s capable of. They know that going up against her brass knuckles will only have one outcome for them. No matter the cost, Yuzuriha Kotoko will come out on top.

Endless cheer and applause – I hear the song grow louder and louder. Fill up the entire nebula!

The contestant brings his guitar down with all the force he can muster, sparks flying out and scorching his hands. The audience roars at the display. He’s tired of all those eyes watching him, but at least he’s making them all watch as he destroys some little piece of them. For now, they only find morbid curiosity in his fruitless rage, but someday he’ll sing loud enough, act loud enough, scream loud enough that the galaxy will be forced to hear him. To alien and human alike, the face of Kajiyama Fuuta is an icon of rebellion.

Just laugh, hey kick and break ya! To the galaxy shining bright, chi-cheers. Change the game with a single action. Trust me and I'll show you, chi-cheers.

Kotoko’s boot cracks bones on impact. It wasn’t even her steel leg that had rendered her enemy into this mess. The alleyway is too hidden and the neon city street too distracted for anyone to hear the alien’s final cries at her feet. Her team catches up with her, breathless with exertion and shock at the victim she leaves in her wake. As soon as she holds up what they came here to get, all doubt leaves them. Their ship will echo with celebration tonight.

We only get one life, so I'm living mine for me, cause I'm the one from your wildest dreams. I'll create a fantasy in this crazy world and change it all, I'm going all-in. 

“Ha-ha –!” Fuuta hasn’t heard himself laugh in a long time. It isn’t a pleasant sound, and neither is the chaos that follows as the fight escalates. But damn, did it feel good. The lights of the paparazzi blind him as he’s yanked out of a magnetic train car. The crowd deafens him. The aliens around him bruise and break him down. But he holds tight to the things deep in his mind. He imagines himself as a shining hero. He thinks of them – his own hero. He conjures up a world that’s better for both of them. It’s for this reason he wrenches his arm away from those holding him back. Though his collar buzzes with electricity, he takes another swing.

A universe brimming with dreams… Who will remain standing at the end of it all? Don't you wanna know? Caught within rules without rules, a bird is set free. I hear the song grow louder, fill up the entire nebula!

As the glass shatters around her, Kotoko can’t help but savor the moment suspended in the air. Given her many escapes over the years, she hadn’t been worried about making it out in one piece. And yet her heart races each time she tastes freedom again. She lands on her feet, pausing to make sure her newest recruit is keeping up. Kotoko flashes a wide, toothy smile at them, and they return it shakily. They seem a bit shaken by all the blood that had been spilled on the way, but Kotoko is proud of how quickly they’ve adapted to this liberated lifestyle. She’s riding the thrill of success, knowing she’s changed the outcome of Alien Stage once again. Another weak human saved from their captors. Another victory.

Just laugh, hey kick and break ya! To the galaxy shining bright, chi-cheers. Change the game with a single action. Trust me and I'll show you, chi-cheers.

Smoke chokes Fuuta’s lungs, but it doesn’t hold him back. The private dinner room is full of the rich and powerful as they eat, smoke, and laugh at humans’ expense. They place bets on the upcoming competition rounds. They harass Fuuta to perform for them, eyes of all shapes and colors boring into him. Through the haze and dim lights, the spark of resistance is burning as bright as always. He dares to talk back at a figure who is not used to being talked back to. Fuuta dodges a few strikes, even getting in a few kicks of his own before he’s overwhelmed with a blow to his right eye. 

We only get one life, so I'm living mine for me, cause I'm the one from your wildest dreams. I'll create a fantasy in this crazy world and change it all, I'm going all-in.

Kotoko tries to hide her snarl at the massive advertisement screens they pass. Even flying by at these speeds, she gets a clear look at the Alien Stage champion and his coy smile. It churns her stomach. She had always wondered why any contestant would willingly stand up there and sing, knowing it would get someone else killed. They were complicit in murder, if you asked her. But this man – his actions were far more than “complicit.” The face of a tiny girl flashes through her mind. For a moment, she’s lost in a vision of the girl by her side – still laughing, still carefree in the world that Kotoko is working towards. Reality returns to her. She discharges her weapon directly into an alien’s face.

Every obstacle in my way, I've crushed them all. Step all over me but I'll rise again. It's you who's in the wrong, bet you had no idea.

The lights go up, and Fuuta sways on his feet. He finds himself instantly winded as he starts to sing. The heat from the show’s pyrotechnics make him even dizzier. His good eye surveys the crowd. He would not let these villains win. They took the people he cared about. They took the people who cared about him. Hell, they even took his guitar. He knows that by the end, they’ll take his life, too. It’s all the more reason to continue. He sees now that his intensity had inspired others, even if it hadn’t saved them. Fuuta refuses to go down quietly. He refuses to stop singing. He opens his mouth:

“Hey!”

Kotoko shouts it after the new recruit, but their mind is made up. She’s left clutching at her injury and frantically typing on the huge machine, trying to complete their original mission. The screen streaming the event flashes with images of the redhead pouring his heart out onstage. Kotoko lets out a strangled sound of frustration and stands to follow.

Just laugh, hey kick and break ya! To the galaxy shining bright, chi-cheers. Change the game with a single action. Trust me and I'll show you, chi-cheers. Whatever comes to mind, give it a chance. Contemplate all you want, won't change a thing. 

Blood pools around the losing contestant. All that shouting and he can’t even choke out a goodbye, now. The intruder stands in the one place she spent her life fighting tooth and nail to escape forever. They lock eyes. They’d only heard accounts of the other, but in that brief moment, they understand. They are just two humans, two loud humans, who had a vision of how bright the universe could be someday. Despite it all, they both ended up here, doomed to die on this stage after singing out to an uncaring audience. Fuuta’s gaze slips away. He offers one last smile to his hero. For the first and last time, he is content.  Kotoko turns her attention away from them, to the audience. She clenches her fists and feels very far from content.

Don’t you dare stop now –

Justice assemble! Till the end –

Ride the waves of passing time, and run with the wind 'til morning, don't stop.

[discordiansamba]

peak fanfic writer experience is when one of your brainstorming posts about an AU you want to write gets hundreds of notes but almost nobody scrolls down to the notes to click the link to the actual fic that you left at the top of the replies. including people asking where the fic is. it's right there. just check the notes.

[jasontoddstherapist]

PSA |

Yes this is a Jason Peter Todd centric blog, but it's also 100% supportive of Talia al Ghul. There will be no slander here. No perpetuating of the racist, misogynistic bullshit that drove the narrative divebomb of her character.