#//i remember them doing this thing way over 3 times before I blocked their blog in the end

[r3dblccd]

Chat, how many benefits of the doubt do I give someone that keeps kind of ghosting me

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 1/3

where you’re just trying to make it through the day, and jamie thinks you’re his girlfriend (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

AN: hello i started this blog to post all of my writings that have been piling up! this has been sitting on my laptop for awhile, and i decided to post the first part to see how things go! lmk ur thoughts! btw this is not proofread oops

word count: 6k+

You think that the highlight of your day might be tending to your garden. 

It started as a bit of a de-stressing-after-your-job hobby. At first, you found joy in coming home and taking time to water the flower beds at the front of your home, faithfully tending to them with the sole purpose of making the exterior of the house pretty for passerbyers. That soon turned into your father helping you install a window box at your bedroom window, so you can wake up to the site of blooming Zinnias. You meticulously started planting more flowers in your yard, and soon the vegetable garden (a neighborhood favorite). 

Mrs. Dunphy from two houses down was the first person who inquired on the abundance of your radishes and carrots. Never one to turn down a request, you began to give her a generous amount of the vegetables you’ve grown. And she’s just too sweet of a woman, sometimes you will pick the best of your abundance to give. 

And once word got around the street that you were giving away free, fresh vegetables, more people came running. Mr. Taylor suddenly was wondering about any spare tomatoes for the sandwiches and salads he makes when his grandkids visit. Stevie likes to snack on cucumbers, and she’s one of the very few people you know around the block your age, so of course you’re gonna chop a few when she comes over to watch shitty reality TV with you (and pack a few for her to take home, of course). 

Your garden has become something to connect you with other members of your neighborhood in Richmond, thus making it a passion project of sorts. As well as a productive pastime—that might as well be a second job. You try to keep it a secret, but you’ve begun to talk to your plants. That one tip about how talking to plants is good for their health is pretty famous, right? 

You’re quietly humming to the acoustic radio station you have playing on your speaker, meticulously chopping up onions for your soup. You like the recipe you're doing—it’s creamy and rich and you have most of the ingredients in either your cupboards, or your garden. 

It’s one of those days where you’re off work early, and just looking forward to a day to yourself. It’s not abnormal for Stevie to come ringing the doorbell whenever she sees fit, but it’s a day where you know she’s going to be gone late for work. So unless you decide to call up one of your other friends, or maybe your parents, it’s just you. And you’d like to go that way: you’ve been waiting for a bit of a self-care day. Nothing can cure your stress like warm soup, some music, and the comfort of your home. 

You open your fridge, spotting the array of tomatoes before picking one to use. Though, nearly immediately, your mind wanders off to something. Your eyes instinctually glance out your kitchen window at the house next-door, seeing it empty of the typical car. 

A new neighbor had moved in recently next-door, and usually he’d be home by now. . . Is it weird that you know that? Maybe it’s a bit creepy. But, if you’re completely honest, you’re a bit hyper-aware of this neighbor. If it isn’t his status in England, it’s his wonderful personality. And if it isn’t his wonderful personality, it is the fact that he might be one of the most beautiful and fit people that you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

You remember the first time you met Jamie. 

“You need help?”

Your shoulder jolted slightly, and you nearly dropped the soiled crate of peonies from your arms. It’s hard to startle you, mostly because you think you’re pretty hyper aware of your surroundings. You can easily spot the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Michelin, as well as their boisterous voices. 

The voice that spoke, however, did not sound like a couple in their early-60s. You hadn't even heard the footsteps. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

You angled your hip around, adjusting the crate in your hands in a way that doesn’t hurt your fingers. 

Immediately, it was easy to recognize that the man is Jamie Tartt: not only the man who had recently moved in next door, but also the known striker for Richmond’s own Premier League club. It’d be easy to mistake him for a regular guy, though, if his pajama pants and jumper couldn’t make him look any more average. His hair parts evenly down the center with concerned brows raised up to nearly the hairline. 

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, seeming to mistake your quiet observation of him as you still being scared as balls. 

You huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“That’s my fault—no need to apologize.” He waits another beat before adding, “I’m Jamie. I just moved in next door. I kinda… saw you when I just walked out. Thought to introduce myself.”

You grin. “Trying to be on everyone’s good side?”

He returned your grin, looking less tense now that you had reciprocated the conversation. “‘Never had much of a good one to begin with in neighborhoods. I’m trying to change that.”

There was a beat of silence before you said your name, feeling surprisingly awkward in this situation. You’re by no means a social butterfly, but it’s hard to startle you—especially on your own home property. Every conversation approached to you has always been reciprocated evenly by you. If Mrs. Michelin from down the street wanted to tell a story of the old diner she owned, you did your work quietly while listening, chiming in when necessary. If Stephen from down the block wanted to stop by for tea and gossip (which you’ve never been into the gossip part of it), you sip your tea nonchalantly and ask engaging questions that won’t entirely give away your true opinion on the matter: Mr. Barnaby is rude? What makes you think that? 

But for some reason, in the presence of your new neighbor, you found yourself quite speechless. Maybe it’s because Jamie is basically a celebrity. You had no doubt that he had millions of followers on every platform he ran—and the paps love him (she sees it on the news and papers). 

That’s probably why. 

“Well,” you cleared your throat, smiling. “Welcome! Everyone around here is pretty nice, but you can make those conclusions yourself when they inevitably pay you a visit.”

“Is it a tight-knit group around here?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded. “Quite. A lot of them come over sometimes to get veggies, and they seem to know about each other’s lives well.”

His smile turned into a full-grown grin. Immediately, you were desperate to know which words you said elicited that smile, so that you could say the same thing over and over again.

“You sell veggies?”

You shook your head. “I just grow them for everyone!”

In the next few minutes, you’re setting an arrangement to give Jamie a crate of carrots for his morning smoothies. You hide the giddiness you felt from the possibilities of seeing him again.

You’re placing onions into a pot on the stove, mind now away from your neighbor’s whereabouts, when your phone rings. You toss the chopped onions into the sizzling pot before picking up your phone and placing it between your ear and shoulder. 

“Hello?” you say cheerily. It’s been a decent day and you’re about to make your favorite dish, so you’re in a good mood. You balance the phone in between your ear and shoulder and you go back to tend to your uncut tomato. 

A lady on the other end—in a voice that seems quite familiar, but you’re still unsure of—says your name questioningly, in an almost frantic manner that has you furrowing your brows. 

Placing your cutting knife down, you wipe your hand on a rag before holding your phone directly to your ear for more support. “Yes?”

“Um—I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to deliver this news to you, especially since we’ve never spoken before… which surprises quite a bit…” the woman’s voice on the other line trails off, leaving you more confused. Setting your knife down, you lean a bit closer to the phone. “But, Jamie’s in the hospital. He’s hit his head.”

Jamie? Your next-door neighbor Jamie? Premier League Jamie? The one you were just thinking about? “Tartt?”

“Yes,” the woman replies, “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know why the woman is apologizing to you. Jamie’s the one who’s hit his head! It’s still confusing as to why you’re the person who received the call, but concern immediately seeps into your bones at the thought of someone so lovely not being alright. 

“No, no. I-It’s okay. Is he alright?”

“He’s got a concussion. It’s quite bad, but not horrible. I’m sure the doctor can explain what’s wrong better than I can. Do you think you can come right now? He’s been asking for you nonstop.”

You frown confusingly. “Me? Are you sure?” You and Jamie are far from strangers, and maybe more than just acquaintances. Sometimes you give the man carrots, that’s basically friend status. But you both are definitely not close enough for him to ask for you after being concussed. He should be asking for a parent, or a relative, or just anyone who is much closer than you are to him. 

The woman on the other end giggles. “I’m quite sure. He’s been yapping nonstop to see you—gave us your number and everything! I know this isn’t an ideal circumstance for his friends to meet you, but we really are a bit excited and curious to put a face to the name.”

What the hell has Jamie said about you? 

“So,” the lady says on the phone, reminding you that she’s there, “are you able to come?”

You stare at the pot boiling on your stove. 

“Send me the address.”

—

The second your eyes meet Jamie’s, his eyes soften until a smile goes over his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry…” your voice trails off, unsure of how to go about talking to him. Your body has barely entered the room in full, but the attention goes to you immediately. You feel the need to give a justified response for why your arrival has been so delayed (you didn’t even know this was happening until barely half an hour ago!). “I was cooking when I got the call, it all happened so suddenly. Are you alright?”

The smile remains on his face. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

There’s a pause in the room. All eyes seem to be on you as you stare back in shock at Jamie's words. A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone is awaiting your next response with surprised, curious eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, trying to ignore how your heart lurches at Jamie’s words. A sentence like that seems like something you would conjure up in the back of your mind during times you’d like to fantasize about Jamie. You try to push those thoughts aside, because he’s nothing more than your neighbor—possibly friend. A double meaning has to be coming from the sentence, and all you have to do is act cool so that no one will know how affected you are by this. “Am I supposed to be bringing him back to his home?”

The nurse looks down at his clipboard. “You’re his neighbor, correct? You know his address?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you should be fit to bring him home. Unless, you think it’ll be more reliable for someone else to? I know all of this must be stressful.”

You quickly shake your head. “Not stressful at all. I’m just trying to grasp why I was called here.” Surely Jamie had a family member to ring up, or even one of the people currently in the room, who seem to care about him very much. You walk closer to Jamie’s bedside to see if there are any damages to his face that you might’ve not been able to see from afar. Your heart beats at a less-rapid pace when you see that physically, he looks fine. He catches your eye with a smile as you look down at him.

Ted Lasso speaks up. You never thought you’d see him in the flesh, just a person on your television that you see when you eat dinner alone. “Well, Jamie here has been hassling us to see his lady since he’s been up. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name! ‘Been a long hour of wonderin’.”

Before you can even retort, like how you didn’t even know Jamie had a girlfriend (like why would you be here if Jamie wants to see his girlfriend—your heart sinks lightly at the thought, but it seems all too selfish to care about that when Jamie’s in a worrying predicament), the blonde girl speaks up.

“You know, I will say that I was mad hurt when I found out Jamie has a girlfriend and didn’t even tell us.”

Yeah, you think. He didn’t tell you, either. 

A tall man grunts from beside her. “How long have you lot been going out, anyway?”

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide. 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the room, “For Christ’s fucking sake, can you all stop bombarding her with questions?” He reaches out a small distance to grab your hand and pull you closer to his bedside, your hip now resting against the bed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Your mind freezes. You look down at your joint hands, then back to his face. 

Surely this has to be some mistake. Jamie is telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not; if this is some sort of bit he wants to play on the very many people in this room that care about his well being. The only time you’ve gotten even close to touching Jamie was whenever his fingers would brush against yours to pick up a crate of carrots. You don’t even know what the inside of his house looks like! There are many facts about him that—though, you would like to know—you don’t know at all. And now he’s gone and told everybody that you’re dating!

The only thing you do know, is that you and Jamie have now got five pairs of eyes on you. 

And they all think that you’re in a relationship. 

“Jamie…” you say, tip-toeing through your next words to make sure you don’t say something that will put him into shock. “How hard did you hit your head?” His hand remains firmly in your own. 

He pouts, turning to a man who’s sitting on a chair in the corner. He’s pouting guiltily, still in his Richmond kit with dirt on his knee pads. 

“Pretty fucking hard,” the man mumbles. His fingers are fidgeting, and you recognize him as Richmond’s captain—Isaac. 

The nurse standing by you nods. “Essentially,” he says, shrugging. 

“Like—extremely hard?”

The nurse sighs. “I’m surprised it’s just a concussion. But nothing seems to be truly wrong; the X-rays would’ve shown.”

(Clearly something more than a concussion must have happened for Jamie to believe that you’re his girlfriend!) 

“Are there any medications, protocol that we should be aware of, Nurse?” Ted chimes in, leaning closer to the center of the room. 

“Recommended actions will be included in his discharge papers. I would say wait a day or two before taking any pain medication. Avoid bright lights, like the telly or your phone. I suggest wearing sunglasses outdoors—though I don’t think that’d be any different than usual. Other than that, I think you will heal just fine. But until then, it looks like your girlfriend has to be your nurse for a bit.”

You choke up again at the mention of that term, a dry cough riding up your throat. Eyes snap towards you, concern immediately filling each iris. 

“Love,” says Jamie, voice in clear pain over his misinterpretation of your emotions. “I’m going to be okay. I always get better. You know that.”

No, you wanted to say, I don’t know that. You wanted to close your eyes and count to ten—meditate maybe, and think of your next moves. You wanted to be back home, stirring broth in a pot instead of getting tangled up in a fiasco that you’re ill-equipped for. 

Unfortunately, none of those are an option for you. And, as you look at Jamie in his hospital gown, your heart constricts. Something plucks a small melody on your heartstrings as you stare into his glazed and hopeful eyes. Hopeful for you. 

You try to give your best smile. One that says, it’s going to be okay. If you worry, it’s clear Jamie will worry. It’s obvious by his expression that his sole focus at the moment is you. 

You’re not sure how convincing the smile is. You feel like a fraud, pretending to be something for Jamie that you’re clearly not. You’re far from being his girlfriend, or even someone Jamie could fancy if his head hadn’t been so fucked up. 

But maybe, though, the smile is convincing enough: his face is elated at your positive acknowledgement towards him. 

“Fucking gross.”

Your body snaps around, yet again acutely aware of the presence of multiple bodies around you, all looking at you and Jamie the same: confusion mixed with wonder (or disgust). It’s clear, though, that the voice had come from Roy Kent himself. 

(He’s known for these things, you guess.)

Frowning, you turn back to Jamie. 

“Oi,” snaps Jamie, eyes shifting gloweringly to Roy. “She hasn’t got a clue of your attitude yet. Pipe down.”

Not wanting to upset Roy Kent, you shake your head vigorously. “Don't even worry. I’m just a little caught off guard at the moment.” You clear your throat, “Um… do you suppose I can speak to the doctor quickly?”

“Doctor!” says Ted loud and eccentrically, no doubt in hopes that his obnoxious manner would lighten the mood. “Let her see the doctor!” 

“Get the fucking doctor here!” says Keeley to the nurse, who merely sputters in return. 

“I-I’ll fetch her right now.”

It only takes a minute for a woman to peek her head through the door. “I heard I am needed.”

Roy groans, and she smirks at him like they both know something that not many get.

“Jamie’s lovely lady wants to have a word with you,” says Ted with a grin when you take a beat too long to reply for yourself.

She turns her head to you, and you nod. 

“Yes,” you say. Prying your hand gently from Jamie’s, you follow the doctor. “I’ll be back,” you add softly.

Once the door is closed behind you two, a large and panicked breath releases from your lips. You finally get to feel how clammy your hands have gotten. “Listen, Doctor…” you look at her quizzically.

“—Doctor O’Sullivan,” she says. 

“O’Sullivan. Thank you.: You breathe in. “I’m not very sure how to say this, but I’m really fucking confused at the moment. Kind of freaking out confused.”

The woman in front of you doesn’t hesitate to place a comforting hand on your elbow. “Is everything alright? Roy had said you were Jamie’s girlfriend; I know how hard this could be on—“

“--That’s the problem!” you can’t help but interrupt, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. I’m just his neighbor! I’m not sure how him banging his head led me to believe otherwise, but—but I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor stares back at you, mouth agape. 

“Yeah,” you sympathize, nodding your head. “I know.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Um,” she begins, “out of all things you could’ve said… I wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth.”

You nod frantically, your voice going down to a worried whisper. “Is his head—like—okay? I’m worried that if he’s remembering stuff that isn’t true, then something may be very wrong with his brain, or whatever part he hit.”

Dr. O’Sullivan sighs, looking down at her clipboard before jotting something down. “Memory loss… things like that tend to happen with the concussion he has. I would be far more concerned if the X-rays showed any trauma, but he truly does seem to be fine. My guess is his memory will come back—maybe slowly, but it will certainly recollect.”

“But do I tell him now?” you ask, in a minor panic. If someone this morning had told you that your neighbor (the one you have been minorly crushing on, mind you) would suffer from a concussion that rendered him thinking you two are in an established relationship… well, you probably wouldn’t know what to say in that situation. But this certainly hadn’t even been in your mind for unexpected things that could possibly happen. 

“My recommendation right now would be no; don’t startle him. His concussion has only just occurred, and it’s best not to confuse him even more. The first and most important goal is to get him back home to rest. Just check in on your comfortability as you go through this, okay? I’ll give you my personal cell, in case you have any dire questions.” She writes down her number on a piece of paper before ripping it off and handing it to you. 

You neatly tuck it into your pocket, nervously smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies with a more assured smile compared to yours. She rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “I mean it when I say reach out. This will be difficult to navigate.”

You nod, giving her one last look before you re-enter the room apprehensively. It’s quiet when the door creeks and all eyes are on you, as if wanting to observe your next move. In the array of eyes, Jamie is looking at you with an expectant look, a large smile on his lips as you fidget with the rings on your finger awkwardly. You want to run out of the room, but you remember Dr. O’Sullivan’s words: Don't startle him. 

“Jamie,” your voice is hoarse. The entire group leans a little closer at the sound of your voice, awaiting your next words. You clear your throat. “I’m very worried about you.”

His smile dims. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I should’ve been more careful.”

Everyone else in shock by his quick admission to his wrongdoings, Isaac stands up suddenly. “It’s my fault, bruv. Your girl should be mad at me.” He bows his head ashamedly. “I’m so sorry.” 

You frown, shaking. “I think everyone in the room can agree that none of this is intentional.” You look around the room for confirmation. “Right?” 

“Jamie’s lady is right!” says Ted. And then, “—wait, does me referring to you at Jamie’s lady dehumanize you? I apologize on my behalf. You are your own woman!”

That manages a small laugh from you. It’s clear Ted’s good-naturedness isn’t just a personality created in the papers. “I’m feeling perfectly humanized, thank you. I don’t blame anyone, I’m just glad you’re okay, Jamie. But I’m very worried. You don’t … seem the best.” You think that we are dating, when all I do is give you fresh veggies. “I want you to get better.” I want you to get your own memories back, because this fabrication in your head is extremely, medically concerning. “But it could be worse!” you add at the end. You could’ve forgotten your own identity, so there’s that! 

The room is silent. 

“I don’t know about y’all,” begins Ted. “But I’m lovin’ the element of concern with added positivity! You’re right, it could’ve been worse! Jamie could be dead.”

“Too much, Ted,” says Rebecca softly. 

Roy grunts. “I thought that was a wonderful, brief visual.”

Jamie’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, man?” 

The older man grunts, angrier. “I said brief.” 

You can’t tell if his comments are a joke or not.

Jamie, appearing to sense your uncomfortableness, is quick to reply, “Oi! What did I say about her not knowing your fucking attitude?”

“It’s okay!” you squeak, not wanting to create more problems in the room. “Let’s focus on getting you home first.” Don't startle him. You need to ease Jamie into any shocks that he might face. You don’t know if there’s anything else Jamie might have misconstrued due to his concussion. For all you know, the poor guy might forget another giant aspect of his life. He needs to rest. “Did you lot by chance take his car here?” 

Keeley nods quickly. “I drove it from the stadium. It’s parked out front.”

“Perfect,” you say, turning back to the man of the hour. “Jamie, is it okay if she drives it back to yours?”

“As long as I get to ride with you.”

Your heart rate strikes at his reply. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. “Good with me. Let’s get you home.”

The arrangement to take him home is simple enough, maybe even the easiest thing you have had to face since arriving. Jamie had already signed his discharge papers, and was free to walk on his own. He manages to look normal enough, but it’s a unanimous agreement for him to not drive on his own. Keeley is off to drive Jamie’s car back to his place, already knowing his new address. He bids goodbye to the rest of the group, and they offer their own forms of condolences (Roy’s is just a grunt).

“It’s a pleasure meeting you!” says Ted. “You’re gonna have to stop by Nelson Road sometime. You know, introduce you to the rest of the team.”

You fight a frown, because you shouldn’t. You probably won’t. But, hating to be rude to Ted, you reciprocate his hospitality with a warm smile. “I appreciate that. It was wonderful to meet everyone, even in these circumstances. I’m glad that Jamie is in the right hands.”

Ted nods solemnly. “Always. Now, go take care of that son of a gun!”

—

“Don't ever think I’ve ever been in your car before,” mumbles Jamie sadly. You’ve never been in my car. Or my home. Nor have I ever been to yours. 

You fight the thoughts running through your head, about to comment on his dejectedness, when you remember what Dr. O’Sullivan had said about Jamie avoiding sunlight. “Wait!” You open your glove compartment, shuffling through the various coins and junk inside until you find what you’ve been looking for. 

The sunglasses may not be what Jamie prefers. They belong to your younger cousin, Jolie. Sometimes you’re tasked with picking her up from school when your aunts can’t. Along with the task of picking her up and babysitting the six-year-old for a few hours, you often find things that she had left behind, or forgotten. You keep the hot pink cat-eye sunglasses for whenever she’s in your car and wants to put them on (they make her feel older). They may be a little small on Jamie, but you don’t care. His concussion is going to be treated attentively on your watch, whether he is okay with that or not. It’s the least you feel that you can do, considering roleplaying as his girlfriend isn’t exactly ideal. 

“Here you are!” you happily exclaim, unfolding the sunglasses, putting them on by yourself before he can get a chance to protest. 

The thing is, you truly don’t know what Jamie is like. You’ve had multiple interactions, but all so surface-level that it’s hard to tell if it’s a front he’s put up or not. For all you know—and for what you expect—he’ll take the sunglasses off and question why he has to wear that pair (toxic masculinity, and all that bullshit that you’re accustomed to from men). 

To your surprise, he doesn’t even make a move to adjust them. Instead, he moves the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. You giggle lightly as he moves his face around to observe his look. 

The sound makes him smile. “I look good. These mine now?”

You scoff. “They’re Jolie's, don't even think about it,” you reply starkly, not even thinking about the fact that he doesn’t know who Jolie is. 

For Jamie, however, that appears to be the first thing he thinks about. Because there’s a moment-long pause, and it feels very thick, before he replies, “Jolie?”

“Oh—my cousin,” you say plainly. You begin to pull out of your spot, checking your side mirror to see if any cars are coming by. 

You might’ve been driving for a minute, silently. You aren’t sure what to say because, again, this is not the type of interaction with Jamie that you’re used to. Besides, you figure that maybe the silence will be good since Jamie has spent god-knows how long in absolute worry and chaos. Your mind goes back to the soup on your stove. You had turned the heat off, and placed the lid on your pot to finish when you get home.

Jamie is the first to break the silence. He says your name slowly, almost embarrassingly. 

You furrow your brows at his tone, giving him a quick glance before laying your eyes back on the road. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Am I—“ he clears his throat, “Am I supposed to know about Jolie? Have we spoken about her before? I just don’t remember anything about her.”

You’re in shock for a moment, not expecting that question to come from him. 

You realize, at this moment, the weight of Jamie’s concussion. Not only is it going to be physically taxing for him to avoid doing certain things until he’s better, but the mental toll of feeling like he doesn’t remember things will also certainly pain him. He thinks that the two of you are together—meaning he expects himself to know aspects about your life that you two had never discussed before. 

Not only is Jamie a blank slate to you, but you are to him. 

The only problem is he thinks that the blank slate is wrong. 

“I’ve never spoken of her before, Jamie,” you say softly. 

You hear him exhale. 

“You don’t need to worry about forgetting, okay?” you add. “If I’m very concerned by anything you don’t seem to remember, I’ll be sure to tell you. And I’m sure everyone at work will do the same, as well.” You take a left turn, following the GPS on your phone back to your neighborhood. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. Patiently.”

A less-tense silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive. Jamie has his head leaning against the passenger window. You don’t need to see under the glasses to know that his eyes are shut, likely to gain as much rest as possible. 

When you finally arrive back at your neighboring homes, Keeley is already sitting on the steps that lead to Jamie’s door, his car parked perfectly in his usual spot.

After parking as close to Jamie's home as possible (you’ll fix your spot later), you move to open his passenger door, but he gets out by himself. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you off the edge of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Keeley smiles softly at the pair in front of her, extending her hands to give you Jamie’s set of keys. “Hey, guys!”

You smile back, quietly using the keys she just handed you to unlock Jamie’s front door while the two converse behind you on his current state. She worriedly asks him how his head feels, to which Jamie gives a very detailed explanation on how it feels like a giant is squeezing around his head with a pressure that can pop his brains out. 

“Gross,” mumbles Keeley. “Please go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jamie, “that’s what everyone’s telling me. Thanks for bringing me car, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. My payment requirement is—sorry to jam it—get some fucking rest.” She stands by the doorway as you and Jamie enter his house. “Roy’s a couple of minutes away. I’m gonna wait out here and contemplate stealing those peonies from that house down there.”

You pause. “… That’s my place.”

“Oh shit! My bad, babe. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything.”

You laugh. “Please, go ahead if you would like. I’ve been told it’s practically a forest.”

She laughs. “Maybe next time. Stay safe, yeah?” She’s walking down the steps as you both bid her a goodbye.

You smile up at Jamie as he guides you further down his hallway, and into the kitchen. He immediately goes into his fridge to pull out some water, chugging it down.

You stand in your spot awkwardly, watching as Jamie pulls the sunglasses further up when his head finally levels from drinking. “...Um, if you don’t need anything else, do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” you ask. You feel better now that Jamie is in the comfort of his own home. “I had food on the stove, and wanted to finish it up. I’ll have a bowl for you as well, if you’d like.” You already make a plan in your head to put it in an isolated thermos to leave on his doorstep so that he can still access it and have his alone time.

“But you’ll be back, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the thing he’s most sure of. 

You smile. “Then I’ll be back,” you reply, mind scrapping the doorstep plan. “With creamy vegetable soup.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says. He closes the fridge and makes his way to you. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting… maybe a hug at most. 

But your eyes shoot up as Jamie leans down, his lips puckering slightly as his face inches closer to yours. 

You instinctively place your hand on his chest, quickly stopping him from going any further. “Woah, wait.”

Jamie pulls back further immediately, his brows furrowing from above the pink sunglasses he wears. If this were any other situation, you’d find his look comical.

“What’s wrong, love?” he says so sweetly that you may feel sick, if the nickname isn’t enough to nearly make you faint. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly. 

You try your best to conjure up words for this situation, as well as trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the soft ministrations on your shoulder. “It’s just—we’re moving too fast. You’re moving too fast.”

“Huh?” replies Jamie quizzically, “Do we not… kiss?” When your eyes hold more panic, he makes the conclusion for himself. “So, we’re dating and we’ve never kissed? Am I a fucking idiot?” The last part is mostly to himself, and you backtrack immediately, rewiring your brain into thinking of a half decent explanation. 

“I mean… I don’t know. I just feel bad,” you say. “You have a concussion and don’t remember some things. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and make you do things that you might regret.”

Jamie frowns. “Why would I regret kissing you?” 

You wince, making the edges of his lips turn down even more. 

He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...Would it make you uncomfortable? If I kissed you?”

“It—“ you think about it for a moment. You don’t think kissing Jamie would make you uncomfortable at all. It is something you fantasize about, but only when you’re alone. And not under these circumstances. So, you reply truthfully, “I think it would,” because you just can’t find it in you to physically reciprocate affection that was never properly established in the first place. 

“Is it because I don’t remember our first kiss?”

There never was one. “… Yeah.”

Jamie looks off before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do everything in my power to remember,” he says surely.

Well, shit. It’s going to be very hard for Jamie to try and remember something that never even happened. You wonder now if you should just alleviate the guilt right now, and break the truth to him: you have never dated, nor even kissed once. Maybe the interactions you’ve had with him when handing over a batch of carrots seemed delusionally romantic in your mind, that’s not how it went at all. 

There’s a feeling in you that makes you want to take care of Jamie and make sure that he’s okay. The thought of abandoning him now feels almost cruel, he clearly trusts you enough to keep you around. 

Normally, this would be no issue. 

But with what you know, a heavy weight fills your chest.

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post they made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Edit: The first chapter of His Watchful Eye had been rewritten shortly after this statement was released. It now reflects my own writing. That was the only chapter that had ever been plagiarized. All other chapters reflect my own writing and ideas, now including chapter one.

Just putting this here to clear up accusations in the reblogs. I never claimed that either author was okay with me plagiarizing off them…I simply apologized and linked to Venus’s original statement. I stated Zombie accepted my apology, but was never okay with the plagiarism. Venus never accepted my apology, and that’s okay. I even told her I understood and that I didn’t expect her to. I’ve never expected anyone to be okay with what I did. I did everything I could to remedy the situation and that was it.

I apologized, deleted the stories, made a statement and reworked what I needed to. Everyone’s feelings on this are still 100 percent valid, and it’s totally okay to still be mad at me for this. I never expect Venus or Zombie to ever truly forgive me. However, let’s not spread misinformation. Reblogs are off from this point on to prevent the spread of misinformation. If you want to further discuss, you’re welcome to make your own posts. Thank you. ☺️

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 3

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER (COMING SOON)

Finding sleep that night was impossible. You tossed and turned for hours feeling like the darkness was too much and not enough all at once. Every time you rolled onto Logan’s side, your nose was plagued with his lingering scent, sending you into a spiral over and over again.

The next morning wasn’t any easier. While you would have liked nothing more than to continue rotting away in your room and ceasing to exist, you had classes to teach. Getting out of bed took a herculean effort, and your eyes were still puffy from your trip to the lake. You felt essentially hollow while you got ready for the day. You didn’t listen to music, or hum to yourself, or even break the perpetual frown that had taken root on your face. There just was simply no point.

You dressed in your usual flared black slacks and white button up with black heels, rolling the sleeves up to just below your elbow. Then, before leaving, you grabbed the stack of papers you had graded before you left for your mission.

One of the things that you liked about teaching here was that because of the relatively small number of students compared to a usual boarding school, your classroom sizes were small, and you only had three of them to teach. You taught upper-level American Lit classes with a fusion in creative writing that gave your students a bit of freedom in their assignments. And you enjoyed reaching these kids. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The hallways were bustling with kids rushing and meandering to their next classes. You didn’t really pay mind to any of them as you made your way to your classroom on the other side of the mansion. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a few of the children side eying you, trying to gauge you and what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom floor did one of them, or rather, a former student, interrupt your solitary walk.

Rogue only joined in silence down the hallway, remaining quiet next to you. While you never did teach her as you had been brought into the fold just a couple years after she had graduated, Rogue became pseudo-sister to you in a sense. Despite the attempt for a cure, she came out stronger and more solidified in herself.

You sighed as you opened the door to your classroom, checking to see if she was still behind you. “Do you need something, Rogue?”

“I heard what happened.” Your heart ached.

“Who hasn’t?”

“If you wanna talk about it—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Rogue. That’s the thing. Right now, I’d rather just forget about all that’s happening right now and try to find my sense of peace again.”

The girl gave a sad smile when you turned around. Her hair was pulled back, letting the white streak hang down on its own.

“Well, in that case, would you rather spend your time forgetting at White Raven tonight? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

At that, you raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since you and Rogue had the chance to really catch up and just relax at the local dive, and it actually sounded pretty damn good right about now.

“Who’s driving?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about it,” is all she said with a ghost of a smirk before disappearing down the hallway into the sea of students.

You were gonna regret agreeing to that, you just knew it.

The rest of the day went by uneventful, thankfully. No other students tried to pry into your relationship status with Logan, and you were able to forget about life for just a moment while teaching about significant pieces of literature during the Civil War.

The sun was just setting behind the trees when there was a knock on your bedroom door while you were putting on a pair of earrings.

 “It’s open!” you shouted, expecting Rogue to be on the other side, here to pester you.

But the universe loved to play jokes on you.

The door opened slowly to reveal Logan holding a bag, and your heart sank while your eyes widened in shock. He peaked in like a timid cat, looking at you like he knew he was stepping over a boundary. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, glancing around the room.

“Do you need something, Logan?”

“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to grab some clothes actually. I only grabbed so many, and uh, kinda running low.”

“Oh. Yeah, go ahead,” you answered, turning back to the floor length mirror to finish getting ready.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he meandered into your once shared room. He looked over your pictures on the dresser briefly before pulling open his drawers, grabbing some random t-shirts and jeans, stuffing them into the bag. You all but forgot you were getting ready as he stopped and picked up the picture of the two of you at your sister’s wedding just a couple years ago.

It was probably the one picture where Logan was publicly showing affection. The photographer had managed to capture a moment when the both of you were in the center of the dance floor, slowly dancing with the rest of the guests, but it was the way that he looked at you that gave you butterflies just looking at it. He had this soft smile on his face as you rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck while his rested on your hips.

It was that night that you were certain that you would be with him for the rest of your life.

Logan set the picture back down, breaking you out of your memory trance. You went back to fixing your hair, trying to push down the wave of tears that threatened to make an appearance at remembering what you lost.

He shut the drawers, his bag full. Before he walked out, though, you spoke up again.

“I can just pack up the rest of your clothes for you, if you want.”

Logan froze just in front of the door, his head turned slightly towards you. He took one step back, meeting your eyes, looked to the dresser, and then back to you.

“Only if you want to,” is all he said before walking out and disappearing down the hallway, closing the door behind him.

~

You were still confused an hour later when you and Rogue were sitting at the far corner of the bar in White Raven, staring through a vodka soda as your finger traced the glass. Rogue was talking about something, but you weren’t quite paying attention until a foot nudged yours. You finally looked up to find her leaning forward and staring at you.

“Earth to Halo, come in.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your hand drop and leaned back into the wooden chair.

“You were saying?”

“You don’t even know what I was talking about.”

“Sure I do. You were talking about one of your classes.”

She gave you a look. “Not even close, sugar.”

You sighed, wiping your hand down your face.

“Can you blame me? There’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly the reason we’re here. To forget about that shit for the night and just be girls again.”

You let your head roll to the side as you raised an eyebrow, considering her words.

“Fine. A round of shots and drinks, and I’ll focus on forgetting.”

“Right away,” she grinned, throwing a wink before looking over towards the bartender to grab his attention.

You sighed, leaning back into the barstool. You couldn’t help but let Logan’s words run on repeat in your head, trying to understand what he meant. He still had feelings for Jean, so there was no reason to still have his clothes in your shared dresser, in your shared room, but he said it was up to you, which made no sense. A small ember of hope wanted to grow warmer, but you refused to let it get any hotter. Things would never be the same between the two of you, and you refused to give yourself hope when heartbreak was inevitable.

It was only a minute longer before two more shots and drinks were set down in front of you and Rogue. The Jameson and peach schnapps looked at you mockingly, and you grimaced at the offending cup as you picked it up. Rogue did the same, catching your reaction.

“What? Don’t like green tea anymore?”

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” you answered before knocking the mix back, taking it in one big gulp. Your faced screwed up as it burned going down, setting the plastic cup across the bar for the bartender to pick up.

Rogue took hers like a champ, as always, shaking her head at the feeling of the burn. “You’re not even that much older than me, Halo, stop acting like you’re my meemaw.”

“I’m old enough for this to bite me in the ass later tonight, and you know it.”

“I do, but that’s why I’ve got a ride arranged for us later.”

You raised your eyebrow at the younger woman, taking a sip from your drink. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“And I don’t need to because you’ll be too trashed to give a damn. Now drink!”

The rest of the night melted into a blur as Rogue continued to order shots and drinks for the two of you. She rambled about a mutant that she met on a mission down in Louisiana, and you basically acted like you were listening, but you let your mind drift to Logan once again. It wasn’t like you could just flip a switch in your mind and force yourself to forget about him. You were married, and he was easily the only man that loved you as passionately and deeply as he did, and having that man basically die and still walk around in the same body was going to fuck you up for God knows how long. Maybe forever.

“Haaaaalooooo, you’re nawt listenin’ again.” Rogue’s southern twang was slipping out like it normally did when she wasn’t thinking, or in this instance, drunk. Even though she was the one that enjoyed going out and getting hammered, she did it much faster than you.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Rogue. It’s hard to concentrate these days.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, drink still in hand.

“Oh, dear God, here I am, r-runnin’ my mouth about men, and I’m nawt even thinkin’ about you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad that you’re seeing someone after how things with Bobby ended.”

She became a bit closed off at that comment, letting her eyes drop to the clear liquid in her cup. Her breakup with Bobby was nothing pretty or simple, and both were hurt in the process, but especially Rogue was. Her fears of his feelings for Kitty turned out to be true, but that hadn’t manifested until much later after the breakup, but it still rubbed salt in the wound.

In a way, it was how you felt now about Logan and Jean.

“Yeah, I am too,” she whispered, taking another sip on the straw when her phone began to vibrate on the bar top.

A ridiculous picture of Logan flashed on the screen with his name on top for an incoming call, to which she answered and put him on speaker.

“Hi, Log! Halo and I are still at the bar.”

“I know, I’m outside. You said to pick the two of you up at midnight when it closed.”

Your heart dropped right into your stomach, and your head snapped over to your friend, eyes wide. Rogue, oblivious to your fury, still looked at the phone and continued to talk.

“Right, right. We’ll be out in a minute. Gotta close out. Byyyyye.” She hung up, then turned down the bar to grab the bartender’s attention, still unknowing.

Why the fuck would she ask Logan to pick you up? She couldn’t have asked any other mutant other than the man of the fucking hour?

The bartender placed your tabs down in front of the two of you, to which you threw down some twenties and called it a night. Rogue was still oblivious as she got up from her seat, but you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“You asked Logan to DD for us? Why not Scott, or Ororo, or fucking Piotr?”

Her face screwed up before she laughed at your panic.

“Because he offered.”

“What the hell do you mean he offered?”

“I meeeaaan, he overheard me ask Scott to drive us, but when Scott said he was busy, Logan offered to drive us instead. It’s just a fifteen-minute ride back to the mansion, Hay. It won’t kill you.”

Your mouth dropped as she all but sauntered up to the front door, leaving you behind. You couldn’t help but groan aggressively in frustration, following her out the door.

Lo and behold, driving one of the many cars of Xavier’s, was Logan leant up against the sleek black paint of still-running vehicle. Rogue stumbled out of the door happily, a drunk smile plastered on her face as she approached her father figure. Logan looked down at her warmly as she stopped in front of him, swaying a bit on her feet.

“Looks like you had a bit to drink.”

“Well I could have had more if someone,” she turned her head to throw a look at you over her shoulder, “had let us start off hard like we used to.”

“One of us has to be semi-responsible when we’re out together, and it was my turn.”

“You only say that for reasons I can’t talk about right now,” she mumbled as she opened the car door and climbed into the backseat.

An awkward silence stretched into the night as her words hung in the air. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was referring to, and Logan spent more than just a second staring at the ground where Rogue’s feet were before looking at you. A guilty look passed over his face as he took in your less than trashed appearance.

“Sorry for uh…keeping you from enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t feel so flattered,” you retorted as you went to climb into the backseat as well, only to find the other woman sprawled out on the leather seats, completely passed out.

Fuck it.

You pushed past Logan and pulled the handle to the front passenger seat, dropping in and all but slamming the door closed. You wanted nothing more than for this night to be over and evaporate it from your recent memory.

Logan’s bootfalls crunched upon the gravel parking lot as he walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and settled in. He shut the door behind him, and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving White Raven behind you. You focused everything to not focus on him and the fact that you were now in a car, essentially by yourselves as Rogue was out cold in the backseat. You couldn’t help but wring your hands continuously as you fought to look at him, keeping yourself to staring out the window. It’s only been a couple days, but your body already missed being so close to him, and it ached not being able to touch him. Hence, you were wringing your hands to simulate the sensation.

You could feel Logan’s gaze weigh heavy on you. It caused your hair to stand on end on your neck. In a moment of weakness, you let your eyes glance over to him, just to find that he had looked to your own at the same moment. Those hazel irises stared into yours so softly, yet intently. It stole the breath out of you, and you couldn’t help but stare back. He looked at you like he was taking you in for the first time and understanding who was in front of him.

And of course, it was at this moment that Rogue decided to wake up.

“Are we home yet?” she groaned, leaning into the space between the driver and passenger seat, snapping the two of you out of whatever trance you had been in.

You jumped, snapping your gaze from his and forced yourself to go back to staring out the window.

“Yeah, Rogue, just a few more minutes,” Logan mumbled.

The rest of the drive back to the mansion, you still felt his eyes on your form.

a/n: tbh i have no idea what this is, just kinda threw it together before the motivation disappeared

~

taglist: @facelessfionna @pop-rocks-and-skittles @littledebbieinabigworld @levislegislation @bontensbabygirl @bubblegumholland @droopingdatura @lulawantmula @badbishsblog @spideybv28 @labellapeaky @annagraceevanss @khaylin27 @enchantedbutterflies @officiallydumbass123 @madloveformurdock

if i didn't tag you, please make sure you have an age in your bio. if you do and i still didn't, dm me and i'll make sure to add you to the next one.

[airbendertendou]

bts ft tokyorev !! jus something small to get me back into posting <3

[including : mikey, kokonoi, mitsuya, inupi + yuzuha]

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

— MiKEY! ♥︎ "me from the moon, you from the stars."

there you were again, as you always were. sipping from the sweetest drink you could stand, lips pursed around the straw. as you watched everyone else, mikey watched you.

this is where he first saw you before, too. before kazutora - before kanto - before all the tragedy. when he was still lingering on the cusp of sanity, mikey spotted you.

things were different now - he was different now. a nudge to his arm - takemichi nods in your direction with his chin. "now's your chance. like you always wanted."

a deep breath, and then he's standing in front of you. blinking at the stark white boots in your vision, you gaze up. like a halo, the sun shines around him, bouncing off of the grin mikey sends your way. you gulp down your drink, "sano. hello."

mikey's breath hitches in his throat as he stumbles out his own greeting. "what are you thinking about right now?"

you were starstuck, truthfully, seeing the boy you wanted to talk to for ages standing in front of you. you couldn't say that, though - it'd be embarrassing to admit your bashfulness of him.

"right now?" you purse your lips again and mikey hopes you don't see the trickle of color on his cheeks. "that... you look nice when you smile, sano."

"mikey," he corrects you. with another deep breath, he takes a seat to your left. "call me mikey. i'll call you [first name]."

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

— KOKONOi! ♥︎ "all i know is how to love you."

being related to sanzu came with strange rules. you always had to stick by his side - always had to reassure him you were safe and happy. why he chose you and not senju - why he forbid you from speaking with takeomi - you'd never know.

maybe it had something to do with mikey preferring you over them as well.

whatever it was, it led you here. in a stormy, darkened apartment as your brother went in search of the haitani's. mikey was peering outside of the window longingly - he did that a lot, these days.

"want something to drink?" the voice causes you to stiffen, chills covering every inch of you. kokonoi glances your way, "it's chilly in here. want something warm?"

your body was on fire the longer he kept his attention on you, actually. shaking your head, you look down to break his gaze from you. koko shrugs as he stands, "suit yourself. want somethin', boss?"

everything after that echoes. being around kokonoi hajime was the biggest obstacle you've faced. seeing him around town was bad enough. now that he was at your brothers side? you were going to scream.

a steaming, pastel mug is held in front of you. koko sips from his own charcoal gray cup. "your fingers are shaking, liar."

gulping, your shaking fingers take the mug from koko with a shy, quiet thank you. even though he's still looking out of the window, you can see a smirk on mikey's face in the reflection. you wanted to throw the stupid mug his way.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

— MiTSUYA! ♥︎ "i want the you that wants me again."

a stalemate. that's where your relationship curently fell. he spent more time at work than with you - more time with everyone else. biting your lip to prevent tears, you dial his number again.

"i can't really talk right now," mitsuya says instead of a greeting. you remember when he would grin down at the phone when you called. remember when he would all you cutesy, almost cringey pet-names so often you'd forget your own name. he lets out a sigh, "did you need something?"

you forget everything you'd prepared to say. every accusation ; every fear ; every inch of begging to get him to stay. your lips part, "should we end it here?"

"huh?"

you look around the house you'd created together. the pictures you'd taken, the couch cushions and blankets you bought together. half-empty candles that hadn't been lit in months. your bottom lip wobbles as you speak through tears. "should we break up? this relationship doesn't seem happy anymore."

mitsuya stays silent. that seemingly answers for him. you nod slowly, wiping the tears that have trickled down your cheeks. "okay. i'll have my things packed before you're back." whenever that will be.

"don't," he sounds out of breath. mitsuya heaves in a breath that sounds like a sob. he lets out a cough, rustling in the background that he speaks over. "don't say that. don't do that. i'm- i'm coming home, okay? stay right there."

you decide over the dial tone if you'd still be home or not when he arrives.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

— iNUPi! ♥︎ "just one day, just one day."

jade eyes trail after you endlessly. you nod along to the beat of the song you're listening to, dusting here and there. catching his reflection in the tv, you smirk. "when you volunteered to help, seishu, i didn't think you'd mean just sitting there."

blinking, inupi shrugs as if he wasn't just imagining a sweet, domestic life with you. "you won't let me help."

you turn with a crinkled nose, "you don't clean things right!"

"that's not possible." his voice trails off so he can watch you again. your hips are movng to the music now as you shrug him off. inupi sighs, his chin falling to his hand as he gazes lovingly.

he could see it now. you'd both be a little older, in an apartment that didn't quite fit two people. you'd share the bathroom and the bed, helping wash each other's face and sharing soap when you ran out. you'd make dinner and breakfast together to complain about work or talk about the wild dreams he knew you had.

it was something he did and would probably always yearn for.

a press to his cheek causes his entire face to flame. you tap his nose with a mischiveous grin, going back to your cleaning. a galnce to your mirror shows a sticky residue on his cheek - one that matched the lipgloss you were wearing.

inupi blinks, "did you kiss me?"

"maybe!"

he springs up from his seat within a second as your laughter rings around the room. his own smile covers his face as he chases you. "shouldn't i reciprocate it? hey, get back here!"

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

— YUZUHA! ♥︎ "to see you? to meet you?"

passing letters through her younger brother, secrets pressed in places you both passed - that was how you spoke with her now. since taiju knew - once he figured it out - he forbade his sister from any and every relationship.

especially if it was with you.

hakkai pants as he stops in front of you, creamsicle envelope in his hand. you could already smell yuzuha's perfume wafting from it - could envision the kiss marks she'd left on the pages. hakkai places his hands on his hips, "this is exhausting, you know?"

you glare his way, "tell your stupid brother to give yuzuha her phone back."

"you tell him!" hakkai looks around with wide, terrified eyes. "don't call him stupid, though."

scoffing, you peel the letter from his sweaty palms. "i'll end him if i need to. he's never met a scorned, pissed off lover before."

hakkai shivers, taking a miniscule step back away from you. "...you could take him, probably."

you dismiss him with a grin, ready to read every word yuzuha couldn't say to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

this was so fun i luv writing to music <3 thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!! if you’d like to be tagged, untagged in any tokyorev content, let me know ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @chrofeisnightmaregf @natsumesakasakisupremacy @emperorsnero

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[simping-overload]

ꜱᴏᴍᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ

notes: I revive myself with a Frederick fic. I've been itching to put out. Might be ooc blame it on the drugs. I'm messing around with my writing style, so pardon any inconsistencies <3

This work is part of a series of mine based on the "Being Alive" song in the musical company. The 2006 one specifically with Raúl Esparza!!

tags: post s2, ansgt, frederick cries, cuddles, not in an official relationship, but they act like they are. Gn reader no pronouns or gender mentioned.

synopsis: You haven't been able to see Frederick for weeks—not after Miriam Las pointed the finger to him being the Chesapeake Riper. Which was bull. When the tension died down, you finally managed to slip past and pay the shrink and visit.

Ao3 link // 1,846 words

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

The last few weeks have been the most boring moments of your life, being drowned in paperwork and not having your lovely shrink friend to pick on and bother.

When you finally managed to get caught up on your paperwork, you took the rest of the day off, claiming you were feeling under the weather.

You were actually picking up some things for Frederick, an expensive box of chocolate truffles, a few books filled with boring psychology studies, and a change of clothes. You remember the last time he was in the hospital, he whined constantly about how the gown ichtes his skin.

When you walked into the hospital, it was quiet, not another soul to be seen aside from the staff. Which was great since you won't have to worry about anyone snitching on you.

You approach the desk, setting your bags on the floor to let your arms relax.

"Hi, I'm here to see Frederick Chilton. I'm a friend of his." You tell the receptionist who eyes you up in down before typing away at their keyboard.

"Sorry, but he's not accepting any visitors."

This makes you frown. How badly did the feds interrogate him to make him close off his visitation.

"Can you just call and tell him that (Y/N) is here? He'll want to see me." You lean against your fist, giving them a pleading look.

They relent, dialing the number to Fredericks room. A few momments later and exchanging a few words, they hang up the phone.

"Well, you're all set. He's in room 3V, all the way down the hall and make two rights he'll be on the left."

You smile, grabbing your bags and leaving with a thank you

You knock on the door thrice, opening it once you hear a muffled 'come in'.

Frederick lays on his side, facing sway from the door and clutching a pillow to his chest.

You shut the door with a soft click, setting the bags on the most uncomfortable looking chairs you've seen before walking over to the side of his bed.

"Hey Freds." You say softly, crouching down to his level so he wouldn't have to move. You lean against the bed with your hands folded.

He looks like shit, but better than you'd thought he'd be, giving you a slight relief. You know the injuries could've turned out much worse.

His hair is grown out, more than he'd usually allow himself. You brush the hair back and out of his face.

Frederick sighs at your familiar and comfortable touch. "What are you doing here? I figured Jack forbade you from visiting."

You chuckle, gently dragging your nails across his scalp, "Oh he did. Even had someone tail me for the first few weeks to make sure I didn't see you. Then he proceeded to drown me in paperwork as if that'd stop me." Jack always did underestimate your determination.

Frederick smirks, proud at your defiance. "Then I assume Hannibal didn't manage to manipulate you into thinking I'm the riper, hm?"

"Obviously. How the hell would someone on a low meat and sodium diet be cannibal. Plus, you're already crippled—" Frederick face twitches when you called him crippled. "—with the cane. It just doesn't make sense." You huff, no one in the FBI has critical thinking skills anymore.

Frederick sighs in relief. He knew you were smart, but with how much of a master manipulator Hannibal is, he was worried he'd get you to turn on him, too.

"Good…" He trails off, eyes drifting to the bags. His face lits up seeing a very familiar chocolate company logo, Lindt Lindor.

His eyes snap back up to you, "Give me those truffles." He demands.

You chuckle, "Nuh uh, I got to make sure with your doctor that you can eat them. How about we get you changed instead?" You pat Fredericks good cheek, enjoying how cute he looks when he pouts. Stepping away, you go to grab the clothing.

"You have some audacity to tempt me. I swear once I'm recovered, I'm going to skin you alive."

"We both know you wouldn't cause you wouldn't have anyone else to get you your limited edition truffles."

You take the clothing out of the bag. It was a pair of silk PJs, the only kinds he'd wear, a few pairs of boxers and socks.

You place the clothes on the edge of the hospital bed, "I know how much you hate hospital gowns, so I got you stuff to change into. I can help you change into these, or can you do it yourself."

"I'm a grown man. I change myself. I'll call you back once I'm done, now shoo." He waves you off, using the nearby remote to move the bed into a sitting position. He painfully groans when he pushes himself off the bed, even though he is only shot in the face, the pain manged to spread, reaching his entire body.

He doesn't change until you step outside. He moves his legs to hang over the side of the bed, shimming the hospital issued gown and boxers off.

He grabs the pair of boxers, slipping them off before doing the same with the socks. He doesn't trust himself to try to stand on his own since he was bedridden for the last week.

He tugged the pants on, enjoying the way the silk felt against his skin. He ties the strings into a nice bow before grabbing the shirt.

He slips it on, minding the wires attached to his arm. He looks down to button it. He sees the scar on his abdomen. He lets out a shakey breath when his fingers graze over it. The memories of that night come rushing back like a tidial wave.

He quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind and finshes buttoning that shirt. He folds his old clothing and leaves it neatly placed at the edge of the bed.

"You can come in now."

When you enter, you aren't alone. His assigned doctor and her protogee follow in suit. he glances at the clock - 12:00 P.M. - the time for his midday check-up.

"Dr. Prescott, Dr. Harring. Hello." He gives them a tight-lipped smile. He wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone other than you at the moment.

"Mr. Chilton, we're just here for your routine checkup. Since you seem to have company, we'll make sure to be quick. Now, Dr. Harring." She pushes the younger doctor forward, letting him take the lead on the check-up as she rights down notes.

It was quick, simple, and uncomfortable. Whenever Dr. Harring touches his face he cringes in pain, and slight disgust at his oily hands.

After a bit, the doctor finally pulls away from him, "Looks like everything is good! You're recovering quite well, Mr. Chilton. You'll be outta here in no time!"

Frederick fakes a smile. He knows he's stuck here. He won't be let out until the trial or until the charges are dropped.

Dr. Prescott ushers the other out of the room, and before she leaves, she looks back at Frederick, "And yes, you can eat those truffles but only 3. I don't want to risk it getting stuck in there." She says before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Frederick gives you a knowing look when he glances between the back and you. You head over to the bag, digging through to find his favorites. Dark Chocolate Raspberry. He loves these concerning amount, even has a jar filled with them in his office. No one is allowed to touch, not even you.

He takes (snatches) them out of your hand, moaning in delight as he pops one in his mouth, enjoying the flavor on his tongue.

His thoughts begin to drift off as he thinks about his situation. He doesn't know what he's going to do with himself. Prison will be hell on earth for him, especially since he's crippled.

His reputation itself will be destroyed. He'd lose all his assets, his so-called friends, and whatever family he has left that actually still cares about him. By the time he gets out, he will have nothing. He won't have you.

The one person who sticks around him not just for his money or to raise their status. You're someone who actually likes him, sticking with him even with his asshole snob behavior that would have most people leaving without a second thought.

You actually listened to him, talked to him, and respected him. Even when he tried to push you away, you always came back. He doesn't want to lose you.

You notice Frederick drifting off, getting lost in his thoughts. His eyes downcasted with a far-off look. Bringing your hand to his chin, you lift his head back

"Hey… Are you okay?" You rub your finger on the underside of his chin, trying to get him to focus on you.

He owlishly blinks at you, coming back to reality he pulls away from your hand, leaning back against the bed.

"I'm fine." He huffs, popping another chocolate in his mouth.

You squint at him. You've known him for long enough to tell when he's lying.

"No, you're not. Scoot over." You slip your shoes off before slipping under the covers next to him.

You reach over, grabbing the bed remote to make the bed lay flat.

"What are you doing." He questions, scooting over reluctantly.

"We are going to cuddle and talk about our feelings. You know I hate when you hide things that bother you." You wrap your arms around him, pulling him to lay comfortably on your chest as you run your hands through his hair.

He huffs against you but doesn't say anything. Silently enjoying the way your hands feel, melting into your touch.

"I'm serious, Frederick. Tell me what's wrong."

This makes Frederick sigh. He doesn't ever like talking about his issues.

"If I get convicted, I'm done for. I lose everything I have." I'll lose you, he wants to say, but those words die in his throat. He buries his face into your shirt and sucks in a breath. He can feel tears stinging his one good eye. He hated crying.

"Not everything. I'm still here. I will always be here." You reassure him, and his body shakes as he begins to sob.

You rub his back, trying to soothe him, "C'mere baby." Pulling him up more, you take his scared face into your hand, wiping his tears away.

"I'll stick with you through everything. I'll get you a lawyer and a P.I., I'm not going to let them convict you." It's a promise that you're willing to take to the grave.

He doesn't respond and just cries harder. You rest his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soothing kisses to his temple as he cries himself to sleep.

You press a kiss to his temple, none of this was fair and you were going to be damn sure he gets the justice he deserves.

[jayceeartz]

Since I've been in the tnmn fandom for a year already, I really want to talk about some problems I have with the fandom.

Now, I love this fandom and the people in it! I've made really good friends and met the sweetest people ever! Buut I've noticed some toxic traits about some parts about the fandom. I've even made other blogs talking about some. Just know this post is NOT targeting any accounts in particular. But if you see any accounts that have done anything I've talked about, PLEASE DON'T HARASS OR SEND HATE TOWARDS THEM!! Just kindly inform them that what their doing is wrong and maybe they'll understand.

With that out of the way, here's my yap session. It's pretty long so... yeah

1. People forcing headcanons and ships upon other people in the fandom.

I kinda noticed how some people are salty about headcanons and ships. So they'll spread a lot of misinformation (fake screenshots, hacking the wiki page, etc) about characters. I've mainly seen this here on Tumbler and on the TNMN wiki. And... ugh... people in nachosamas Instagram comments begging him to make a ship canon. Even though he's said before that no ships are canon.

Moral of the story, please don't force people to like your headcanons or ships. Remember, people are going to have different opinions on different headcanons and ships. I was salty about my HCs too, but I learned quickly to learn that people will have different opinions on things.

Also please don't beg nachosama to make a ship/HC canon. He's making a whole reboot to the game. I'm positive the last thing he cares about is ships. (I'm not saying you can't ship anything. We can ship whatever we want as long as it's not problematic!)

2. Not censoring or poorly censoring nsfw art

I made an entire rant post a while back about this topic, and thankfully, for the most part, some people have heard me loud and clear. Of course, there's still uncensored stuff on here and on every platform ever, but that's just the harsh reality of fandoms. Nsfw art has and will always exist. I just think it's important for the artists to be mindful that minors are also using the app, and they shouldn't need to be exposed to that stuff. Maybe they can make a private nsfw account if that's better.

3. Anonymous asks hate

This is a tale as old as time. Some basement dwelling, unhappy, tumbler user really hates an artist. And they have nothing else better to do than harass the artist and send death threats and other threats. And the artist can't see who sent it because they're anonymous. This is a big problem in the tnmn fandom for some reason. And it's can really damage someone's mental health. I really want to find out who's doing this and expose them once and for all. But for now all I can do is dream and be suspicious of some people.

4. A lot of hate towards the self shippers/oc x canon shippers :(

This is mainly on Twitter (no surprises there), but I feel like it needs to be talked about as a tnmn self shipper and oc x canon shipper. I understand if someone ships themselves with a married character (example, afton) and it makes you upset. But you should never harass them over that. If it makes you uncomfortable, just scroll away from it.

Also while we're on the topic of selfshippers, I feel as someone who's nonsharing with some of my f/os (fictional others), if you're nonsharing and you see another selfshipper ship themselves with one of your f/os, please please do NOT harass them. Just block them and continue on with your life. I've already explained my "pinterest incident" and I'd hate for anyone to end up like that person. If you're a nonsharing selfshipper, that's completely valid! But please be mindful about other people and their feelings.

That's pretty much all I wanted to talk about!

If you have problems with this fandom, please let me know in the comments! I'd love to hear if you have similar problems or any other problems with the fandom!💖💖💖💖

[southsidestory]

Chapter 1: Grounds for Harassment

Mickey knows he’s a piece of shit. It’s easy to forget sometimes, like how piss in the carpet stops stinking after it’s settled, but every now and then he’ll think something so awful that he remembers, Oh, yeah. Piece of shit.

That happens when Mandy says Ian Gallagher messed with her (and not in the good way). Because Mickey’s first thought is that Mandy is lying, and his second is thank fuck.

Getting to hunt down Ian is the best thing that’s happened to Mickey in months.

“What he do to you, exactly?”

“I’m not giving you the gross details!” Mandy shouts.

She leans against the front door, blocking the handle, as if he’s stupid enough to go inside the house.

He’s been locked out for a week. A whole fucking week of stealing food from corner stores, taking a leak behind buildings, and sleeping in icy alleys. He can’t even remember what he did to set Ronnie off this time, but his uncle must still be angry if Mandy won’t let him in on the sly.

Mickey sniffs back snot, then spits on the porch. He hopes he’s not getting a goddamn cold. “Will you at least let me in after I beat the shit out of Ian?”

Mandy tugs on a lock of her hair. “If Uncle Ronnie will let me.”

“That’s some award-winning gratitude right there.”

“You got to know that I want to let you in,” Mandy whines. “But if I do he’ll kick me out with you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a moron.” Mickey adjusts his coat and scratches his cheek, moving dirt from his skin to under his fingernails. “Guess I’ll just keep smelling like a pig sty.”

He’ll probably knock Ian back with his stench, won’t even have to hit him.

“If it makes you feel any better, the water’s turned off, so you couldn’t shower anyway,” Mandy says. “Nobody paid the bill again.”

“You look squeaky fucking clean for a girl who’s got no running water at home.”

Mandy picks at her cuticles. A tell that means shame. “I showered at a friend’s house last night.”

“Ah. That code for ‘fucked a dude in exchange for basic hygiene’?”

Mandy grabs a crumpled beer can off the porch and lobs it at him. Mickey catches it and passes it between his hands. Left, right. Left, right.

“Maybe I should hit up Angie Zhago. Trade a ride on my dick for a bath.”

And a bed. Speckled bruises cover his right side from the cracked pavement and gravel he slept on last night.

“Are you going to beat up Ian or stand here all day with your thumb up your butt?” Mandy asks.

Mickey turns away, shoots his sister the bird over his shoulder, and hurries down the steps.

He could go to the shelter for a shower and a hot meal, but he’d rather stay freezing, filthy, and hungry than deal with a bunch of homeless assholes. Half of them are plain batshit, most would steal his stuff if he doesn’t take it into the shower with him, and plenty are actual rapists (unlike Ian) who’ll think he’s an easy target because he’s young and short.

No shower, no food. Time to find his brothers, or maybe some cousins, and get down to business.

Read more of If You Have a Problem on AO3

***

AN: I swore to post the first chapter of If You Have a Problem before the end of the day, and I did it! (barely lol)

Tagging some kind folks who expressed interest on my teaser posts

@poisonedquiver @marstheterrible @5ammi90 @freitasgst @darlingian @ianandmickeygallavich1 @definenormalifyoucan @jadejabbers @ifconfusionwasaperson @machinegunbieber-blog @callivich @tsuga-of-mars

Many thanks to everyone who supported my teasers, as well as my wonderful betas @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich <3

[jmdbjk]

So I'm writing this because of a convo with my bestie who said:

"Ferg, have you considered writing a blog addressing the wrong headed assumption that the members were "forced" to create the Festa content that we got today? How the people pushing that agenda are not looking at what was happening in their lives at the time said content was filmed. They always want us to have pictures and music at Festa. They WANT to create that content. If they were "forced" it wasn't by the company, it was by the calendar and the government. With no (military) exemption, they understood that the only time to come up with OT7 music or pictures was before mid December (2022). And drilling down, the only time was in October. RIGHT when they hit the final acceptance that they would all start enlisting and the foreseeable future was actually not foreseeable at all. Their hearts were extra heavy that within a few weeks they would say goodbye to Jin. Yoongi was dealing with severe writers block and, I think, feeling guilty that he was going to miss his deadline for the first time EVER. RM was working toward the release of Indigo. Kookie was looking at heading to Qatar. Yada yada. So with all that....they had to try and look light hearted. They didn't. The anxious vibes come right off the screen. We all feel it but many are not interpreting it right. You know, the ones who already are quick to blame everything on the company."

Or the ones who only view everything through a shipper or solo lens and say the guys hate each other.

The members, who filmed this video months ago, filmed this with pure sincerity and love for us knowing they would not all be available to do anything for us for their 10th Anniversary Festa in June 2023. How must that have felt to them? To know that their milestone 10th Anniversary would not play out like they had envisioned way back in 2020? They thought they'd start enlisting by the end of 2020 and be finished with MS by now, so they'd be together in 2023. They had to try to come up with something spectacular for us and for themselves so that 3 years after that hot mess, we could celebrate with them. They deserve to celebrate themselves as well, they worked so hard over the past ten years.

Its the end of 2022. They looked a little tired. We know 2022 had some heartbreaking moments for them. By this time they were juggling their own projects AND the Busan concert preparation.

Hobi was ever-present sunshine, yet maybe he had a lot on his mind? Was he already thinking about his next projects and starting to contemplate an earlier than planned enlistment? We know Yoongi was trying to put finishing touches on D-Day. We know Jimin was working on at least one collab as well as his own MV concepts and promotion activities for Face and working out details for his fashion ambassadorships. Tae was busy exploring new things with fashion brands and tv shows. RM was finalizing his Indigo promotions. Jin was about to announce his enlistment plans. JK was prepping for Qatar. And here they were thinking ahead to June 2023.

I think they filmed this Festa video within days of the Busan concert. Either before or after. Remember we had a VHopeKookMin live right after the concert. I would also venture to say they also filmed this the same day as the Festa photoshoot (Love Myself campaign promo released end of November 2022):

Yet they still thoughtfully planned and executed things to be released for Festa. Concepts were conceptualized and the company took it from there and we see they've done a great job procuring deep-pocketed sponsors.

I don't understand the whole "they need to go start their own label" mindset either. I've already said it several times... they already did that, it's called BigHit Music. If BTS don't re-sign a contract its because they are retiring from releasing music. What IS plausible is a member or two starting an independent label for other up-and-coming artists so they can write and/or produce for them... all still under the HYBE umbrella.

During this solo era, I want to say things like "I think we can all agree ... [insert almost anything]" but I can't say that these days because, in my opinion, the fandom (on Twitter and other soc med platforms) has fractured into so many different factions who seem to spend a lot of time pitting themselves against other parts of the fandom for everything and anything they can find to nitpick, criticize, compare and compete with, to be angry about, that no one agrees on anything. This member is better than that member or ... and this one galls me... the company is forcing them to do this or that OR [insert member's name] sabatoged [insert other member's name].

Twitter Army yelling at Weverse Army "YOU'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!" Who designated Twitter Army as the dictator of all things BTS?

People berating others for not streaming the music, or trying to humiliate followers into streaming 'CORRECTLY'. The conspiracy theorists–don't get me started on that. The dissatisfaction with how the solo projects have rolled out. The constant comparison and competition of which member has the most streams in a certain time frame, who has the most songs on the chart for the longest, fastest, more countries, more collabs, more awards...whatever... It's all "my way or the highway/[member name] is the best" and it is really disappointing and tiresome to see the enormous waste of energy.

And if you are still reading, I am totally on board with what another blogger said the other day about how the entire Kpop fandom has this Kpop culture mindset deeply rooted in their way of thinking. It colors their view of EVERYTHING: that artists are treated badly by their record labels/entertainment companies to the point of being physically abused, artists are not paid well, artists are forced to do things and play roles... adhere to strict rules, etc.. because that's how the oldest companies started and some are still operating today (looking at you SM Entertainment).

That "business model" may have been "the way" in the beginning of the kpop industry because no one stood up and called them out on it. So people have come to think EVERY entertainment company operates that way when we've been shown and told over and over by many HYBE employees that its a great place to work. MANY people OUTSIDE the company, staff and other people in the music industry including other artists are blown away at the innovation and forward thinking of the company and we've even heard the members themselves say that they love their company.

Of course no company is perfect, there will be mistakes made, bad decisions, wrong projections, etc. but out of all the entertainment companies, BigHit, Bang PD and BTS have strived to change the system from the start and our own "fans" are being brainless shitheads and talking trash.

Also, HYBE can't come over here to the United States and start auditioning young people for new groups if they are operating like SM Entertainment. That shit ain't gonna fly over here. You'll have a lawsuit in a blink of an eye as soon as someone gets a whiff of sexual harassment or physical abuse of a minor. A carefully built and protected reputation would be ruined, not just Hybe's but BTS's and every other artist under Hybe's labels as well.

Yes, some things we've seen make us scratch our heads... the tight back to back release of Jimin and Yoongi's work had us all wondering what happened. Yes, Jimin's very abbreviated promotion period for Face was frustrating and disappointing. But no one knows what went on behind the scenes. If neither Jimin or Yoongi comes out and tells us what happened then I will just move forward like they are. If either of them made a mistake, we might not ever know of it, but they will correct it going forward. If the company was the one who miscalculated, they too will correct that in the future. We can call it out when we see it happening but there is no reason to dwell on it. I don't see anything positive or productive about the continued pointing fingers to blame, holding grudges and continuing to speak negatively when it's plain the members of BTS love us, work hard to show us that and deserve only to see our love reflecting back at them.

Ok so I've ranted long enough.

[Public Service Announcement: if I don't talk enough about your favorite member, or if I don't say things you want to hear about whatever is your hill you chose to die on, there is a block button way up there and also this nifty thing you can do called "scroll" that lets you ... wait for it... scroll! past my blog post so you don't have to expose yourself to my words. Its not that hard. Really. Otherwise, its all on you.]

[stormypip7]

Introduction to My Blog!

last updated: 18/04/25 !!!

Hey there, I'm Stormypip7! I'm an artist and I play games that I like! :]

I'm neutral-leaning in ship-related discourse, but I will block people if they make me uncomfortable! I don't really mind what you ship in fiction: as long as it doesn't affect real people and as long as you understand that reality isn't as forgiving in many cases.

fandoms i'm in:

*keep in mind that I do lurk in some fandoms, mainly the ones I don't really draw for; and this list is NOT the same as the hyperfixation list.

UT/DR, Danganronpa, Pokémon, Fire Emblem, Gravity Falls, Phineas and Ferb, The Life Series, Amphibia, The Owl House, Tomodachi Life, Stardew Valley, Cookie Run Kingdom, etc. (I will add to this!)

My Art Requests Are Always Open! These are free as I do them as a way of honing my skills, my inbox is always open for these!

I DESPISE REBLOG BAIT. I TRY NOT TO REBLOG IT, WHEN I DO ITS TAGGED.

tagging system:

-sp7's too much to handle au (my life series superpowers au tag)

-sp7's non art reblogs (my reblog tag for this account)

-sp7's rambling tag (my talking tag)

-sp7 does art things (my art tag, older art found under 'my art' and 'art')

-sp7's nostalgia tag (what i tag stuff with that's about old games i like, at least, when i remember to use it)

-sp7's fe self insert (NEW! self explanatory, tag for my self insert for fire emblem)

-sp7's qna event (tag for my qna event for reaching over 100 followers, as voted on by 11/ 12 people; event is over but i'll always be accepting asks either way in case you missed it)

Please check out my other blogs, which can be found under the misc section!

(Hyperfixation list and misc section below the cut!)

My hyperfixations!

->Danganronpa: certain characters individually.

->Gen 6 Pokémon: I grew up with a copy of Y and a Latios my brother gave me, which has lead to a major love for these games and Latios in general.

->Pokémon Mystery Dungeon (Rescue Team, specifically): I'm pretty sure that the Gen 3 version was one of the first games I beat the main story for and it has a special place in my heart, along with RT!Gengar.

->Undertale (and the AUs): my 2020 fixation has sunk its teeth back into me. Yeah this is one of my on and off ones.

->The Life Series': yeah, this one is huuuuuuge. It's reached brainrot levels of fixation. I NEED more time to be able to catch up on everyone's povs. And Limited Life. Aw heck, I'd rewatch ALL of it if I had the time to.

->Phineas and Ferb: we started rewatching the show earlier in the year and how on earth had I never actually watched it before? Anyway new fixation.

->Tomodachi Life!!!!!

->Miitopia: I go in and out of wanting to replay this masterpiece of a game, and it usually turns into a huge fixation of mine. Guess what came back.

Misc!

->Fire Emblem Fates (and Awakening): Hello the last years on my 3ds, I missed you... I CAN satiate it by replaying the games, because I FOUND OUT MY A BUTTON STILL WORKS!

->Cookie Run Kingdom: I recently got into this one, but I might not interact with the fandom that much outside of looking at art and drawing my faves. (I also feel a bit of a connection to one of the cookies, but I have a lot to do at the moment so that will have to wait.)

-> I have an art reblogging account. This is where I'll reblog most of the cool art I find. I also have a sideblog where I may talk about my (potential) alterhuman identity, and I have a sideblog for my Undertale AU. ( @pipstormy8 ) ( @ut-reverie ) ( @stormypip7-reblogs )

-> I also have an ask blog dedicated to my aus! ( @sp7s-multiverse-mailbox ) which I. Can't tag.

WAIT!! Let me try something...

-> Don't feel scared about sending me asks! Ask me anything that pops into your head. Hell, even ask me about the weather if you can't think of anything else!

-> i contributed to the post of editing the basic sexymen onto images, i made a 20-minute edit of their faces on pikmin.

-> I also have a Bluesky account, but I haven't actually posted on it as I'm more active on here, it's under the same username though (for if I ever DO use it.)

Edit Logs:

Edited 17/10: added ut to fix list. | Edited 20/10: updated misc section and removed the other blogs area. | Edited 28/10: updated misc section with my ut au. | Edited 8/11: updated misc section. | Edited 14/11: added pnf to fix list. | Edited 17/11: added miitopia to fix list. | Edited 20/11: wrote up a bit about the tumblr sexy[pikmin]. | Edited 30/11: added the traffic light smp to my fix list.

Edited 1/1/25: changed the layout and fixed a few bits and bobs. | Edited 7/1: put Fates into fix list. | Edited 26/1/25: added my ask blog to the misc section.

Edited 11/02/25: was able to tag two of my sideblogs! I might repurpose my alt for something in a bit. | Edited 16/02/25: fixed a few things and added the fact that I have a bluesky to the misc section and updated the misc. | Edited 18/02/25: inserted a link for the ask blog. | Edited 26/02/25: added a fandom list.

Edited 28/03/25: updated fandom list and added TL to fixation list.

Edited 07/04/25: added my self insert tag and updated tags list, added sdv to fandoms list. | Edited 09/04/25: added my stance on shipcourse. | Edited 18/04/25: added crk to fandoms/ fixations and my qna tag to my tagging system area. |

[oonajaeadira]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @insomniamamma. For the record, I think you write beautiful smut. I appreciate it for its realness and connection.

How many works do you have on ao3? Aw man, you made me log into my AO3 account? I haven't been around there recently because I feel bad about leaving some messages unanswered. Tumbletown is my main fic home and I haven't really had the time to post here, much less on AO3. (Answer the question Adira.) It says I have 19. I don't post there until they're here and sometimes don't crosspost. Mainly I've been posting over there only if I have a complete series, although sorry LMR readers both there AND here.

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 260,317. Seeing as how not even half of my fic is up over there, I cringe to think of what my actual wordcount is.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Pedro Pascal. Which is an umbrella for the actual fandoms contained therein.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos According to AO3? Losing My Religion, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop, A Rare Treat, The Sweets Series, Eyes Closed, Comm Open. According to Tumblr: Good. Things. Take. Time. (this one's a Tumble exclusive, dunno if I'll ever AO3 that one), Losing My Religion, Dulces Suenos, The Sweets Series, A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do. Every one. I know I'm behind on some and I'm sorry about that. I let that bother me enough that it's getting in the way of my writing and I shouldn't do that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like to leave angst hanging and only use it as a trampoline for a happy ending, but I guess the closest thing I have would be A Kiss Before Dying and in Death We Combine. Even if it ends in "death," at least they get to be together.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them? LOL. Of the multi-chapters I've actually finished, probably A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only in passing. There were the mean girls that were kind of being catty over on a few other blogs about GTTT when it blew up much to my surprise (yes, of course I saw all of that, mean girls gonna mean). I remember some comment about not trivializing massage therapists just because I have a shitty back.... and all I could think was, hey. First of all, I can tell you didn't even read it, you're just mad about it blowing up. Not my fault. Next. Don't talk about my back. You wouldn't like being injured and having people talk smack about a piece of your body that gives you pain beyond comprehension, y'bigot. Also not my fault. Once I realized they were just mean girls meaning, I let it roll off and got my own satisfaction by writing a pretty bomb series based on some of their prompt lists that I never would have seen if I hadn't been clued into the smack. Turn that hate into something great!

9. Do you write smut? I do. Not exclusively and it's never the main dish of the story. If it does show up, it's usually the result of a long period of longing and/or feelings exchange.

10. Craziest crossover? I'm not a crossover gal. Every once in a while I'll write an easter egg into another fic (there are several in GTTT), but nothing heavy duty. There was the time The Mandalorian got something of a cameo in a Sweet's fic tho....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gods, I hope not. That would suck. I hate blocking people.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? YES! But not in the way you might think! @katareyoudrilling did an amazing job translating the first chapter of Good. Things. Take. Time. into a sexytime roleplay script!!!! I'M STILL SQUEEING ABOUT IT.

13. Have you co-written a fic before? In a way. For a while when RP accounts were in full swing, I was falling very much in love with the adventure I was creating with @morally-gray-prospector. That account was so amazing, run by one of the smartest writers I've ever known here, but they were TOO good and poured themselves generously into their responses, which got them quite a following...and they burned themselves out! While my story with Ezra didn't have an ending, I never expected it to. I meant it when I said it to the writer: I'm just so happy to have an adventure with Ezra and every minute working on it was a joy that I will love forever. I'm glad they had fun too and didn't keep pushing themselves when it was no longer sustainable. <3

All time favorite ship? It's Din and Little Bird. Now that I know how that story is going to soft-end, they're my favorite couple of all time.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will Oh, I'll finish them all. Right now, Branded is in the most danger of lingering, since I have to figure some stuff out with them. But if I could solve the puzzle of Losing My Religion, then I have no doubt that I'm eventually going to get on with that one too.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know what my strengths are, but I like the magic of showing without showing. I like pacing. I enjoy trying to get the characters' voices right and make the dialog real.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am slow. And I make a show of "not following the rules" as if I'm some kind of rebel, but really, I'm just bad at following rules!!!!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language I try to avoid it for the most part because I usually mess it up pretty badly. I generally don't write Din in Mando'a because I haven't really heard him speak it in the series and he seems to always default to Basic even if he understands it spoken to him, so I can't shake the feeling that it's out of character. But Little Bird is a Mandalorophile, so she'd definitely know it and use it. I do sometimes pull in Spanish for Sweets, but it's usually because it's two characters who actually would speak it when Sunday's not around, and even then I try to make sure it's basic enough for folks to follow. The one time I tried to put Italian in I messed it up pretty good, but a beautiful reader helped correct it for me and I'm so so so grateful. <3

First fandom you wrote for I know I have a Doctor Who piece in a notebook somewhere hidden away. And I most likely have a slew of Ranma pieces from my college days. Were there any before that? Possibly.

Favorite fic you've written I have too many. I write really slow, so if it's actually made it to Tumbles, that means I loved it enough to manifest it. Some of them I love because of the fandom, some because of the relationship, some because of the world building, some because of the interaction, and most because of the good time I had writing it. Right now I'm seeing people reading Losing My Religion, and I've had reason to dip into some of those chapters and re-read a little and it's reminded me how much I love writing for the Star Wars universe, how much confidence I have in it. That was the first fic I really wrote, and I put so much of myself into it... so if I choose a favorite, I'll point there first even if it's not really finished yet.

.

tagging: @blueeyesatnight @ezrasbirdie @missredherring @leslie-lyman @prolix-yuy

[dapperprincess]

(prefacing this by saying that i am not, in any way, being passive aggressive /srs)

hello hello! don't mind me, just your friendly neighbourhood anon here to remind you that assuming that men and boys are inherently born to do evil and that women and girls are inherently born to do good is a stereotype that has been used to oppress women into cleaning up after men's messes for centuries

it also implies that men are inherently incapable of change, and that means that all the fighting will just have been for naught since they will just keep being evil monsters forever, and whatever we do can't change that.

also, please keep in mind that this argument (man bad and evil; woman good and nice), historically, has been used against the feminist movement, not for it.

you (radfems) say that trans women (and please keep reading what i have to say before you get sent into a fit of rage and start yelling every insult under the sun at me ((who, by the way, is a cisgender woman)) for talking about trans women) push gender stereotypes onto cis women by conforming to societal gender norms, but you may not realise that you are (possibly without meaning to) doing the exact same thing by perpetrating that ideology that "woman = inherently good, man = inherently evil", which is historically an argument used only by those who looked to undermine women's autonomy and ability to change the system of oppression that has and continues to cause them harm.

ok, wall of text over! sorry for rambling on for so long, but i just felt the need to put this out there, because i truly do believe that your heart is in the right place, but to create meaningful change in the world we have to recognise that, although we thought something was true and good, sometimes we make mistakes, and that's okay! mistakes don't dictate our value!

ok, now i'm really done rambling! i'm not really going anywhere with this, but just thought i'd share! /gen

have a nice day/afternoon/night/whatever time of day it is where you are, and remember to drink water! <3

Have you ever actually read anything I’ve posted about gender, sex, and trans identities, or did you just find a radfem with anon on and send the message you really wanted to send to a different woman?

Anyway, this right here is what I meant when I said that posting about women’s rights or abortion rights or whatever will have people asking you if you’ve ever considering not wanting to kill all trans women and assuming you do. I have never once said that all men are inherently evil. I have on several occasions clarified that I dont believe that. I have never started randomly yelling insults at people for mentioning trans women or worked myself into fits of rage thinking of them, and have in fact told people that I do not support those who hurl insults at all trans people or perpetuate transphobia. And yet, my posts about women’s rights in the context of my belief that female is a classification of sexual reproductive roles and nothing more leads me to receive asks from the friendly neighborhood anon asking me if I’ve ever considered not believing something that I dont believe and have never claimed to believe.

Now I could do like one person suggested, I could delete this ask and block the anon who sent it, but I think that would just perpetuate the belief that I do believe these things, even though I have explicitly stated that I dont agree with anything presented here more than once. It would at least perpetuate that belief with the anon who sent this message and now, I assume, checks my blog for an answer. I assume nonny doesnt scroll to the other posts where I’ve answered these questions, so this becomes my one chance to convince someone that believing sex is the role someone would play in sexual reproduction and also the basis for women’s oppression doesnt automatically come with the “kill all trans women” add-on.

Now to actually answer your completely unique and not at all passive agressive question. ;-)

I do not assume men are inherently evil and women are inherently good. I know that women and girls have the same exact capacity for hurting others as men and boys do. The question, then, would be why do men and boys hurt other people at a higher rate since we all have the same capacity for harm?

Because they have the social power to do so. Because in my country, 80% of judges are men. The majority of police officers are men. The majority of business owners are men. The majority of people who hold any kind of tangible power in this world are men. And men are sexist. A by-product of men’s sexism is that a man will side with another man, even if other class interactions would usually prevent it, if a women is the other choice. As a result, women often receive more jail time and higher fines for the same crimes. Where a man has a career and a future that would be ruined over just a little lashing out, judges see women who harm others as “failed mothers” and “failed caretakers” and hold them with contempt and disgust, many also punishing these women more strictly due to an incorrect belief that women are given lesser sentences. You’re right about even the idea that men=evil woman=good feeds into this self-fulfilling system that makes people in positions of power see harmful men as average and harmful women as uniquely evil.

So if I dont believe that testicles make a person evil, and I believe that social factors play into this much more than any type of “nature” argument, then where do trans women come in?

The average trans women is not perceived as female. The average trans woman is perceived as a feminine man. Even if a trans women passes in every way, in most of these situations even just being “out” as trans (such as in the way you would have to be in front of a judge or in a doctor’s office, official places where tour name and social matter) is enough to be perceived as a man by other males. This means that when people in positions of power, namely men, go to make their decisions about who to promote or what sentence to pass, the judge is not seeing two women in front of him. The boss is not considering two women in his head. The doctor is not treat two different women. He is seeing a woman and an effeminate man. And men side with men, even if they hate them. They have this weird thing called class consciousness, and they know siding with a man they hate over a woman they tolerate or even like will result in more male supremacy, something 99.9% of males fights for, and every male who has never consciously picked a side will always pick the side that boasts his supremacy.

I think the second part of your question kinda fell apart due to the fact I dont believe men are inherently evil nor women inherently good, but I will close with the fact that most radfems dont believe that inherently evil stuff, to the point that a separate community has been made (called blackpilled/blackpilledradfems) and repeatedly hounded out of our spaces. If you’d like to pose this question to a blackpilled radfem, I would like to hear the answer you’d get, but I and the spaces I occupy are generally the wrong area for this discussion.

Feel free to send any more questions you have, and I hope this wall of text isnt too much for you XD

[airbendertendou]

ACID! ♡ cobra

synopsis : you’re usually the one who’s cleaning up his wounds but now the roles have reversed.

rocky’s sibling!reader , typical hnl violence , tending to boo-boo’s <3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

your brother was a little overprotective. loyal, kind, comforting — and intense. as soon as you learned how to walk, you were taught how to defend yourself in some way ; in any way.

the man in next to you smirks as he looks you up and down, eyes latched onto the white jacket hanging on your shoulders. “you’re with rocky, huh?”

you look away from your phone and to the man. the bus stop is usually empty at this time — the people of sword didn’t venture into the dark. you blink, “excuse me?”

he points to your jacket, “the white rascals. you know them?” he takes a puff of his cigarette before flicking it to the floor and stomping it out. he chuckles, “this isn’t their territory. that doesn’t scare you?”

“why would that scare me?” you prepare yourself, poising with your back stiff and fists clenched. your back is to the map, giving the stranger in front of you your full attention. “it doesn’t matter whose territory i’m in.”

he lets out another cackle — something filled with trouble ; something nasty and mean. “sure about that?”

as cobra walks to the store for naomi, the sound of fighting catches his ears. it’s nothing new in this district — especially after the sun goes down — cobra’s instinct is to ignore it. however, as he goes past the bus stop, he hears a small yelp. a familiar yelp — one that sounds like you.

quickened footsteps hit the concrete, eyes peeled for you or your attacker. instead, cobra sees a man kneeling in front of you as you crush his fingers under your boots. your face is hidden in the shadows of the alleyway — your bus has long passed now — and cobra can’t hear what you say.

you let out a huff, swiping the blood from under your nose. the man is unconscious now — a quick knee to the face is all he needed. someone is standing at the mouth of the alley, stopping you in your tracks.

“[name]? everything okay?”

you squint into the dark, inching forward until the streetlight is brightening the figure. you pause, “oh, cobra.”

he looks you over, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of blood on your face and hands. you see his gaze and go to rub your hands on your pants before remembering you’re wearing white. “what’s going on?”

“just—“ you look back at the slumped over figure before shrugging. “a little disagreement is all.”

cobra nods slowly before grabbing your arm softly. he makes a show of it — moving calmly and casually as he puts his hand out for you. “let’s get away from here, then.”

you’re sitting on a bench outside of a convenience store, waiting for cobra. he insisted you stay until he could take you home ; stay until he could look over your wounds. a rustle of a bag catches your attention, eyes opening to look at the blond ; you didn’t even notice they’d shut.

“this might sting,” he says quietly before a wet cotton ball is patted under your nose. there’s a scratch on your lip that cobra touches tenderly, his knees knocking against yours as he does. “good thing you won your disagreement.”

you grin, hissing when it burns the wound on your lip. “i always win.”

with nowhere else to look, you’re stuck staring at cobra. you’d met him a few times before when he’d stop by to speak to your brother, your eyes wandering and always landing on him. he was pretty — polished in a way the other rugged, messy men you hung around weren’t.

cobra smirks, “starin’, [name]?”

“what else am i supposed to do?” you shoot back. with the tip of his ring finger, cobra scoops the ointment, tapping it onto your lips and then under your nose. “you won’t tell my brother about this, will you?”

“not this time.” he sighs, shoulders slumping at he puts supplies back into the bag. cobra meets your eyes sternly this time. “if it happens again, though…”

“it won’t,” you promise. “i’m usually more careful.”

cobra smirks again as he rubs the blood off of your hands. he looks at you through his eyelashes, “you little delinquent.”

you simply flash him a smile, your tongue sticking through your teeth.

——♡——

lil thing to show cobra some love <<33 if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any HiGH&LOW content, let me know! ♡

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 H&L TAGLIST : @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @strxwberrychocolate @simpforchuchu @thatpoindexterpixy @cheshirecatuniverse

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[dearmailman]

Yay! Thank you for responding :)

I would really like to request a writing piece about a Regressor Howdy? It may seem silly but I like to picture him on the Younger/Baby side of regression!

I don't mind fanfic or headcanons, nor who would be a caretaker in this scenario (if anyone at all!), just whatever's easiest on you!

Thank you again Eddie! Seeing your blog on my dash is always enjoyable! :D <3

I might do a fanfic with this too, but here’s some ideas and headcanons for now! Enjoy neighbor!

Howdy is often very stressed out - understandable as he’s the only neighbor with a business to run. He has a lot of trouble slowing himself down, he even talks at 50 mph! Wally, being the most helpful neighbor, noticed this early on. What started as making sure he gets to bed and feeds himself and stops to have fun eventually became caregiving for him.

Howdy nor Wally realized what was happening at first. Just that Howdy would quiet drown and get very sleepy and wide-eyed when Wally took on responsibility instead. Eddie was the one who recognized regression as regression! Wally loved the idea right off the bat - what a perfect way to get his neighbor to take time off!

Wally and Eddie looked at a catalog for baby toys in secret and ordered anything they thought Howdy would love. Howdy was certainly surprised when five entire boxes were delivered to him the next day. He opened them and was quite confused - until Eddie suggested asking Wally what they were for. There were six entire pacifiers, a whole box worth of building blocks, three cuddly blankets, and more - honestly more than Howdy would ever have gotten for himself!

Howdy called Wally, and Wally came to the shop very smug. He was swaying his hips in a “can you blame me?” way the entire time Howdy interrogated him. Wally convinced him to close up early and they went up stairs to his apartment. Wally wrapped him in a blanket (barely big enough for him) and convinced him to try one of the pacifiers. Howdy was very nervous and unsure at first, it was a little embarrassing to let himself be so relaxed and vulnerable. Being in a baby-like mindstate is so comforting, though....

Howdy did relax as the night fell, with Wally chatting at him softly as the sun set, wrapped in blankets and just settling down for a bit. He felt that same mindstate come to him, feeling safe and quiet, not needing to impress anyone or worry about selling things. Just relaxing with someone who cares for him, no responsibility or pressure over his head.

Wally doesn’t talk about memories often, but that night he reminisced about finding a baby caterpillar in an apple outside while the other little neighbors were playing. He laughed and ran his hand over Howdy’s hair, and told him that it’s his favorite memory of the few he has. He reminds Wally of that memory when he lets himself be taken care of.

Howdy was very tired and felt pleasantly foggy and warm. He doesn’t actually remember that, but that’s okay. It’s comforting to know he and Wally have a long history.

Howdy ends up really enjoying pacifiers, they’re soothing and help him relax. Building blocks are great too! It gives all four of his hands something to play with, sometimes building three towers at once.

Even if Wally isn't over that day, Howdy always sleeps with one of the baby blankets - a light blue one with fruits patterned on it. He indulges and lets himself regress every night before bed. Regression is his tool for relaxing and decompressing!

Eddie and Frank also caretake for him sometimes. They’re involved less often since it makes Wally jealous sometimes, but Wally also trusts them as babysitters! Frank reads books about butterflies to him - sometimes asking suspicious questions about caterpillar biology, which makes Howdy laugh. Eddie always does crafts or bakes with him!

Poppy also babysits! She doesn’t understand as much about regression, but she would always care for her neighbors when they need it. Howdy loves her snacks and they’re the perfect size to cuddle each other!

[mizkit]

new blog post: trying to change my habits

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/trying-to-change-my-habits/

trying to change my habits

I am, as the subject line suggests, trying to change some habits. It isn’t going well, of course, but I’m trying.

I started taking a yoga class for newbs, and I’ve Not Wanted to go to every class since then, but I’ve gone and enjoyed all of them and indeed, have left every one going “if I did that 3 or 4 times a week I’d probably feel a lot better,” but I’m trying to change habits in a SUSTAINABLE manner, not “DO ALL THE THINGS / NEVER MIND I’D RATHER DIE”.

I’m trying to spend less time on the computer in the evenings (she says after being on the computer ALL evening), and I have Three! Separate! Plans! to keep me off it.

Plan One is READ MORE. This is actually the most successful of the Plans, because I find it easier to remember to read than either of the Other Plans.

Plan Two is DRAW MORE. I’ve taken some steps toward making this easier–I did get have the brainstorm that probably Udemy or whatever it’s called has an APP, which would mean not having to turn the computer on to do the lessons I bought a thousand years ago (because as previously discussed, The Problem Is The Computer), but the habit is just really not there. I’m working on it, but this is where I need the Magic Time Blocking App which will chime pleasantly 3 days a week at a set time and say, “Do your art now, Catie!”

Plan Three is to DO SOME KNITTING. There is literally nothing stopping me from doing this except I forget. I’m almost sure if I dug the just-started project out from under the books that have been piled on top of it, I would remember more easily to do a row. However, that requires remembering to dig the project out from under the books, which I should do right now while I’m actively thinking about it.

(pauses. returns after doing that. there. now it’s on a bookshelf and easier to see.)

I guess there’s also Plan Four, which is “watch some tv with my husband” but there’s been nothing on that we’ve been INTENSELY WANTING to watch so it hasn’t had much weight.

Anyway, yeah, so those are “keep off the computer” sorts of attempts at habit-changing. Like I said, of all of them, the reading is going pretty well, and frankly, I’ll take that. :)

I’m also TRYING to work a bit more exercise in, just walking, and I tell you, embarrassingly, I forget to do that too. Today I meant to stop editing halfway through the manuscript and go for a walk, and I just…forgot. Which seems to be much more common than not. And I’ve found this rather decent-looking 60 day walking program which would tell me what to do if I’d only remember to do it! And actually, possibly, be fit enough to walk vigorously for 60 minutes at a time, which I’m not quite sure I am…

(Of course, then we digress into the problem I was discussing on BS the other day, which is: I sweat like a horse, and the prospect of bringing exercise clothes to change into/out of is actually a Huge Impediment, which, like: that’s ridiculous. But it’s true. And the only way to avoid it as a problem is to either walk after work in my work clothes (which are not, like, WORK clothes, but they’re not intended to be drenched with sweat, either) or get up early and walk before work and then shower and go to work, and look, I’ve met me.)

Anyway, I’m not really trying to change everything everywhere all at once, I’m more like mentally lining up things to ease my brain into the idea of doing them. I think when this 6 week class session is over for yoga I’ll pick up a second class, and WALKING would be good.

(I do walk. I walk to and from work every day unless it’s absolutely lashing, and sometimes then. But I want to add in a Walking With Purpose sort of activity, too, y’know? My big dream is getting back to swimming, but I have to get to where I can get myself to the gym, first….)

[starstruckserenity]

hello! i’d like to request an imagines of kokichi x reader that has quiet bpd. sorry if this costs you research on the bpd subtype, i was just really curious on this dynamic. you can either make them platonic, romantic or a little bit of both! idm ^_^

btw, your blog looks really cool! definitely interested in seeing more of your writing. /gen

hello!! ^^ thank you so much for your request. this request in particular stood out to me, as i can relate to what you may be going through. i truly hope you are feeling okay. you are VERY loved and very very important. you may not know me, but i love you. /p please remember that you are worthy of care.

thank you so much, again!! you really are so, so sweet <3

general trigger warning ; implications of suicide and s/h, deprecating thoughts and actions

*if you are triggered by any of these topics, please refrain from reading this! if you are comfortable enough, you may read under the cut. thank you! please take care of yourself!*

Kokichi tried to convince himself he didn't care about anything or anyone, forcing himself to laugh at others' misfortune. He practically blocked every important person in his life out, discarding them like needless waste. He was utterly selfish. He made himself believe no one deserved his precious time, much less his pity.

But how could he ignore you when you were struggling so much? When it was so blatantly obvious that you needed someone, anyone?

Ouma had always kept an eye on you from afar. He hated the feeling of utter worry you evoked into him. You two had barely exchanged any complete sentences to each other, your conversations merely consisted of Kokichi greeting you in the halls. You considered him to be a casual acquaintance. To all of your classmates, you seemed like any normal person. Sure, you were a bit shy, but isn't everyone a bit quiet from time to time? But Kokichi could see right through you.

There was something about you that made him feel the need to watch you. When you were alone, you were constantly nervous, constantly quiet, constantly deep in thought. He had this weird sort of mental complexity that made him feel he had the duty of protecting you.

It was a quiet morning, and you were sitting by yourself in the courtyard. It was cold, and you were sure no one was awake yet. You enjoyed the quiet, but in all honesty, you wish you weren't alone. You desperately wished you could speak to others, but when given the chance, you instantly backed out. This was such a common experience to you, that with every new person you meet, you instantly expect the worst to happen. You braced yourself for the most horrible outcomes possible.

You felt as though you didn't deserve someone to hold onto, they would just leave you in the end. They all did. As much as you wanted someone to talk to, you couldn't risk getting hurt again. You were sensitive. You didn't know what you would do if you got hurt again. Your heart has been ripped apart over and over and over and over again. All that is left is a painful, lump of muscle that ached and throbbed in your chest. The only thing you could feel was the slow, gentle beating that ricocheted from your chest and throughout your body.

Why did you have to feel like this, anyway? Why can't you just be normal? Happy? At the very least, why couldn't you be okay? Did you do something to deserve this?

Yes, of course you did. You deserved to feel this way. You obviously did something to disturb the peace of the world with your mere presence. You were a burden to every single individual you came into contact with. You couldn't handle the guilt anymore. You couldn't handle the pain you had to endure with every breath you took. You had to do something, and quick. You should just go to your room and do what you've done so many times before. Fuck. You should just end it all, no one would miss you anyway---

You suddenly felt the weight of someone sitting beside you. You panicked, struggling to wipe the fresh tears dripping down the sides of your face. You attempted to compose yourself, slowly lifting your head up to see who you were dealing with.

"You look rough." Kokichi muttered.

You tried your best to not let his snide remark hurt you, so you just stared at him with a bewildered expression painted across your face. He had never really talked to you beforehand, so why? Why was he here now? ...Was it fate? Oh god, is he going to make fun of you? Another tear slipped and made its way down your cheek, the fear of being tormented was contaminating your thoughts. You wanted to run, but you were stuck to the bench.

"I'm... so sorry that you have to see me like this." Was all you could stutter out. It took all of your willpower to not burst into tears again.

Kokichi's expression softened. "Hey, hey. It's alright. I'm not gonna hurt you, or anything."

Was he lying? He had to be. As much as you liked him, you knew he was a liar. You gazed at him intently, looking for any signs of insincerity but was left with a blank stare. So he really was being truthful, huh...?

"...Since I'm already here, you might as well tell me."

"Huh?" You questioned.

"Tell me... how you're feeling. I guess." He said, shifting uncomfortably. He knew he probably sounded so fucking stupid right now, mentally cursing at the fact he absolutely embarrassed himself in front of a person he liked.

"I'm fine." You said through clenched teeth, your heart beating quickly. You shook in surprise at the amount of attention he was giving you.

"Come on, don't be silly. I know you're not okay. Uh, even though we might not... know each other very well... yet... I'm willing to listen to you. So don't waste this opportunity, alright? It's one you may never get to experience again." He joked around, trying to be careful with his choice of words.

And after he spoke those words, you caved in. You did something you haven't done in so long. Something so terribly selfish in your eyes. But you were so desperate. You confided in him. You let out all of your thoughts, spilling your feelings onto him like a running faucet that refused to stop.

You got so lost in your passionate ramble, screaming broken sentences and profanities into the palms of your hands. And he just sat there and listened. He listened until you were still, until your tears dried and left wet patches across your face and clothing.

Once he knew you were calm, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in close.

"I'll be here for you from now on," He whispered in your ear before slowly helping you out of your seat. "Don't worry."

And so, you began talking to Kokichi every day. Since he was already aware of your situation, he decided to take the time to inform himself on ways to provide a helping hand whenever you suffered through a breakdown or anything of the sort. Your friendship grew stronger with every conversation you had.

If you were feeling angry, he let you ride out the anger until you felt satisfied and helped you work through the conflict as a pair. If you were feeling shameful or unusually quiet, he would implore you gently into telling him how you feel, so that he could reassure you that you hadn't done anything wrong and that everything you were feeling was totally valid. If you felt vulnerable, he would be there to hold you for as long as you needed.

He constantly made sure to tell you that you were more than enough. And when he finally, finally confessed his love for you after, he promised that he would never leave your side. And it is a promise he is more than willing to keep.