#and don't have a way of keeping their eyes off my posts. unless i block them which i don't want to do

[supercantaloupe]

man. i wish you could control who specifically is and isn't allowed to see/interact with a specific post

[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.

[normalgirlnextdoor]

Alpha 141! X Omega reader??

Hii! I don't usually post my writing, but I had this idea and wrote up a draft/demo of and idea i have. Let me know what yall think and if you want to see it continued! Reblog if you like it please! Also I didn't really edit it, sorry lol!

You tapped away on your mechanical keyboard, the clicky sounds saving you from the quiet boredom that came with running your base's front desk. Running it of course was your punishment for.. Well lets just say when tensions get high you struggle to keep your mouth shut. And it just had to be today that you get dished this punishment. The day one-four-one was assigned to come in, you know to check the place out, see if there was a ‘missfit’ to take on their team. 

You see, you unfortunately work at a special “military”' base, military used lightly as it's not really used for the government to have soldiers willing to fight, but actually to protect the government from lethal beings that could be useful military weapons. You and everyone else, including your current captain, have very dark reasons for why you’re in here. The only way you specifically could get out of the hellish base was if your true mates, yes mates with an “S”, came for you. Legally the government cannot keep anyone from their true mates, but considering you definitely had four, you had a snowball chance in hell of them coming to you. 

Letting out a loud dramatic sigh you looked over your writing. Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Rubbing your eyes you go back to typing the latest mission report; only to be interrupted by the large military doors swinging open with a slam. In came five different, clearly not impressed people. Four out of the five are men, built like true military muscle heads, while the fifth was very fit female. Taking a deep breath you slip into profession mode, choosing to address the women instead of the four intimidating alpha males.

“Hello! Can I please get your names, ids, and the reason why you are here?”  Your voice was overly sweet, sweeter than it usually was.

“I’m Kate Laswell with one-four-one. John-”  she tossed her head to the side.

“Oh, of course you are,” You dropped the cute assistant act, pulling back into a neutral look. Blowing air through your nose you started to type a quick check in for the special operation group one-four-one. Laswell gaped at you.

“Okay,” You flicked your head up rather fast, causing your dog tags to clink with your military issued scent blocking collar.

“You guys are good,I’m Bite risk by the way,” you inform them that you yourself are on the team they will be montering, before telling them where to go. Laswell smiled at you, tipping her head in thanks as she strutted down the hall. One-four-one on the other hand, took their time analyzing you as they passed by. As the last and largest one, the one with the warm looking skullmask, passed by you rolled your eyes, going back to your mission report. 

“Sir, I’m aware that you want to see your daughter and I am deeply empathetic to what you're going through right now. But unless you show me your Id, I won't be able to even let you into the security system for public visit days, which as I said are: Saturdays, Sundays and specific holidays,” your absolutely fed up. Your team including one-four-one, who are currently coming down the hall to collect you, could even tell just by the stressed undertone of your voice.

“I’m not going to show some barracks bunny my id! I want to see my daughter! Now let me in! I served in world war two! I don’t deserve this disturbing treatment from some omega floozy! You have no idea what it means to work in the military! You're just some whore-” A loud crash.  Your captain quickly ran into the lobby, quickly ripping you off the disrespectful older man. Thankfully she was quick enough to prevent him from leaving with a deep bite scar. Your eyes glowed red as you tried to throw her off, but she kept her hold on you, even as you dug your elongated claws into what skin you could reach. 

“Fang! Get him out of here!” She commanded one of your team mates. As he was being escorted out your captain shoved your face into the crook of her neck, letting out a strong calming scent. You drank it up, forcing your feral omega down. Meanwhile task force one-four-one silently watched. Genuinely surprised how quick things escalated in only the first three hours of their two week observation. 

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Price said, his thick British accent quickly catching your omegas' attention, red eyes looking over to the entire team. Interesting indeed you thought. 

[inspirationalucky]

EPIC: THE VENGEANCE SAGA PROMPTS & STARTERS.

of course, go ahead and change names/pronouns/words/etc as necessary to fit your muse or the situation! please do not add more lines/prompts to this post!

Not Sorry for Loving You

"Someone arrived today."

"They said they're taking you away."

"You're not mine to save"

"Soon, I won't get to see your face."

"You're unlike anyone I have ever known."

"You're all I've ever known."

"If I ambushed you, for that I'll say I was wrong."

"If you hate me, then I am sorry my love's too much for you."

"I'm not sorry for loving you!"

"Let me speak!"

"I spent my whole life here."

"I was cast away when I was young."

"I thought for sure that you were my dream come true."

"I'm angry, and tired, and restless, and sad."

"I'm stuck in the moments I swore that we had!"

"I wish you would chase me or try to embrace me!"

"I love you, but not in the way that you want me to."

"I hate that I fell in love with you!"

"What do I do with this love for you?"

"Why in the world won't you love me too?"

Dangerous

"I had one goal in mind."

"How will I reach my homeland?"

"Hello, old friend!"

"You're being given a final option."

"Consider this your one last chance to make it back home"

"If your plan's so great, then why'd you wait to say it?"

"It's a little bit dangerous, my friend."

"You'll need a mindset change for this."

"You cannot get away with playing safe for this."

"You wanna get home? Put it all on the line."

"Remember every trick in your domain for this."

"You gotta treat it like it is the main event!"

"All right, I'm in. What do I do?"

"Follow the North Star!"

"Fight your way through, do what you must do."

"No matter what, keep moving."

"You won't get another time to try."

"It was meant to stop you by design."

"Open this bag, and you'll never make it home."

"Don't you know that danger is my friend?"

"My whole life I've trained for this."

"I have to get home!"

"I plan to put an end to all of the foolishness."

Charybdis

"I'd like to hurry up and end this."

"So, if you don't have much to say..."

"I'm not dying here!"

"I'm still fighting here!"

"I'm holding on 'till I see this through and I've beaten you."

"I already know your tactics."

"I don't even have to kill you, I just have to avoid you!"

"See, if you don't spit it out soon, all that water will destroy you!"

"I'm holding on 'till you're out of breath."

"There! I see it! The island I've been searching for!"

"My wife and son are past these shores."

"My love, don't be scared."

"I am on my way, I'll be there today!"

Get in the Water

"There you are... coward."

"I've been waiting for this moment... for the perfect time to strike."

"I've got a reputation!"

"I've got a name to uphold!"

"I can't go letting you walk or else the world forgets I'm cold."

"Now, get in the water."

"Don't mistake my threats for bluffs!"

"You have lived more than enough!"

"I'll take your son and gouge his eyes! That is, unless you choose to die."

"Aren't you tired, Poseidon?"

"It's been ten years, how long can this go?"

"We're both hurting from losses."

"Why not leave this here and just go home?"

"Maybe you could learn to forgive!"

Six Hundred Strike

"I don't think you seem to get it. I can't afford to die!"

"I will get back to my son, and I will get back to my wife!"

"You idiot. Can't you see?"

"You sealed your fate just to beat me."

"You released my storm when you opened that bag."

"You blocked your one way home!"

"Now you'll never get back."

"You're going to call off that storm."

"Or what? You can't kill me!"

"How does it feel to be helpless?"

"How does it feel to know pain?"

"I watched my friends die in horror."

"I heard their final moments!"

"Look what you've turned me into!”

“Look what we've become!"

"All of the pain that I've been through… haven't I suffered enough?"

"You didn't stop when I begged you!"

“You told m to close my heart!”

"You said the world was dark!"

"Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves?"

“Alright! Please…”

"After everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?"

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Will you be my Valentine? Sugar Day 4 Lester Sinclair

Day 4 cuties!! As usual I hope you all are enjoying this very chill and casual mini series for Valentine's day! After this is over I hope to get back into regularly posting regular fics throughout the rest of the year.

Notes: Minors DNI (You will be BLOCKED), SFW, No specific descriptions or pronouns are used for the reader. If pronouns are used the reader will use they/them unless otherwise specified.

"God Lester, How many times have I told you about blood stains?"

You mumbled to yourself while you scrubbed the stains out of one of Lester's shirts. He was out today as usual cleaning the roadkill off the backroads of Ambrose and you were at home diligently washing one of the only good shirts he had.

"Your daddy needs to learn to be more clean"

You said to Jonesy, who was laying next to you on the floor, wistfully gazing up at you as you scrubbed the shirts. Almost as if she could understand what you said she let out a sigh and rolled over on her other side.

After a few minutes and a lot more scrubbing you heard the rumble of the old pick-up truck approach the cabin and Jonesy quickly made her way off the ground and over to the front door to greet her favorite human.

"Well hey there little darlin'!" Lester greeted her when he entered the house. His eyes locked onto yours next and he grinned.

"Hey sugar" He greeted walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Hey Les"

"What's wrong?"

"You" You teasingly deadpanned. You could hear Lester audibly gulp from behind you.

'W-What did I do?"

"How many times have I told you to be careful with getting stains on your good shirts and to wear work shirts out of the house?"

"Well sugar that one was the only one I could find is all! It was dark out still and I didn't wanna cut the lights on and wake you up!"

"mmm I guess that's fair"

"I got ya somethin to make up for it anyway"

He said before removing his arms from around you and heading back out to the truck to retrieve your present. In the back of your mind you figured Valentine's day was approaching so it probably had to do with that, it's very hard to keep track of time in a ghost town with no internet or cell service.

Lester came bounding back into the house a few moments later with a bunch of flowers in his hand.

'Oh Lester their gorgeous!" You praised him as he approached you and offered them to you.

You took the flowers from him and inhaled their sweet sent. You shot him a smile and leaned over to peck his lips when you realized something, the flowers still had the clods of dirt from where they were ripped out of the ground attached to the stems.

You picked off a dirt clod and looked up at Lester while holding it in your hand.

"Lester honey, what's this?"

"Uhh looks like dirt darlin'"

"Did you go outside just now and pick these?"

"No sugar I got em from the outside of the wax museum."

He said starting to turn away from you and head back outside to get on with the rest of his day. You called out to him as he left.

"Did you pick these from the flowers I planted last year?"

Lester shrugged as he walked and you could see his shoulders move up and down with a chuckle as a smile beamed across your face and the hilarity of the situation.

"Lester Sinclair! You picked my flowers!"

"I'll make up for it sugar don't you worry!" He said out the truck window.

"Well how are you going to make it up? With more flowers?"

"Nah darlin, no more flowers"

"Why not?"

"I picked em all already"

"LESTER!"

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

A Personal Post

Hi guys, I'm finally making the post I kept telling myself and my best friends I'd make but wanted to put it off until I felt better. That hasn't happened and with how things are going I thought it was best to just post it now.

So for a while, since probably late 2023, I've felt less like my blog is for me, and more like it's some kind of fandom archive. Which, if you use it this way as-is, great! I'm glad my blog could make you happy like that! But that's not what I set out for it to be.

I'm the sort of neurodivergent person who likes to categorize things, including my interests. All my tumblr blogs are specific to one thing, and this one was no exception.

I began tagging things soon after I made the blog because I saw a lot of people were sad about the twins, and I thought "well since I love both sad and happy stuff, and I'm really good about categorizing things, maybe I can try and help!" And according to many, it did help!

But I think that also gave off the impression that I was making this blog for other folks, and that isn't the case. I'm sorry I never clarified. It's not an archive; I do not reblog shipping posts, posts from people I've blocked, AUs I don't click with, and sometimes just not everything I see.

I've gotten popular in the fandom, and for the most part I do, from the bottom of my heart, enjoy it. I have people who care about my hyperfixation! That's amazing! I have people who love my cosplay and want to meet up with me. I've made so many friends of all shapes and sizes and it's probably the most incredible thing I've ever experienced, truth be told.

But yeah my blog being mine has gotten away from me a bit, I think.

I want to keep tagging my submas tags, that isn't going to change. I will tag triggers when asked, unless it's kind of impossible due to the blog's subject (trains, for instance) or a name or really common word (like the word 'head' or something). Other than that please reach out and I'll do my best to remember. But other tags? Those will be up to me. I don't want to tag when OCs show up. I love OCs and like seeing them, and don't want to have to remember that one person who visits my blog doesn't.

I had anon off for a while because honestly ever since making this blog, there have been anons who really made me unhappy. (Also yes, non-anons but that's been fewer and far between). I've gotten misinformation, accusations, horrible and disgusting explicit asks, and criticisms and complaints, and I'm just... Not here for that. Keep the explicit things and misinfo out of my inbox, I am no arbiter of morality or personal decisions, and I am not here for you to share your negative opinions of submas or the fandom.

Anon is on for people who are too self conscious to chat face to face, for people to send fun headcanon ideas (remember when people did that back in 2022 when this blog started? I miss that, it was sweet and wholesome), to share song recommendations... That kind of stuff. If you have an actual problem, please, PLEASE talk to me off anon, whether that be DMs or a non-anon ask that I can answer privately. Especially if we're friends; please, please just talk to me about stuff. I don't bite! I swear!

But yeah the bottom line is I'm here to participate in fun (and sometimes heartbreaking!) fandom stuff. I'm here for FUN, not as my job. I know that we're all a bunch of neurodivergent folks and sometimes interactions can be a swing and a miss, but please try to be mindful. Please treat me like a person and not just like a museum curator for this blog.

Truth is, I haven't been okay for a while now. It's gotten worse this year for sure, and due to life stuff I cannot see things feeling better for me for some time. I need to go day by day for a lot of things, and I am trying to get better about needing to set boundaries and all that sort of thing. I suffer from intense paranoia too, and having so many eyes on me is genuinely terrifying at times. I'm trying to manage that as best I can, but I do ask that folks be kind.

NO I am not going anywhere, my blog is staying and will continue on as normal, but I really, really needed to get this posted.

Please continue to interact with me and chat and everything like that! But also please remember to treat this space, my blog, as my space. Thanks for reading!

[the-way-astray]

are you going to tell us your thoughts on the unraveled excerpt or not

well now i have to don't i (though i did reblog a couple of other people's posts with thoughts). this was not supposed to be this long, but as i was going along i had several thoughts, sorry. spoilers for virtually every aspect of the excerpt under the cut (but minor spoilers overall, if you ask me):

"kingdom of lumenaria" was definitely written by ai. who edits these. i know that has zilch to do with the actual excerpt but i need to say it

keefe snuggling the tree was cute. strieefe shippers this is not a safe space for you

he's obviously in a forest somewhere, which is interesting to me. i guess i didn't imagine him living rogue. i envisioned him being in the forbidden cities the entire time. maybe not having the best time of it, but i didn't expect him to be living off the land, as they say. it just doesn't fit kotlc's vibe. so that was interesting. whether i like or don't like that is something i'll only be able to say with more context, but it's different for sure

my first thought when he saw the animal prints was that this was the scene where he meets the fox, but on a reread i saw that he said the prints "did not look [] tiny", and fox prints are relatively tiny. he might've seen a bear instead

the fact that he's super, super cold but does not once think about regulating his body temperature, something he himself said was incredibly useful in flashback, points to the fact that he's too physically or mentally drained to use it or even think about using it. so i'm curious about whatever scene came directly before this

he does think about levitation, though. so. clearly he has enough energy for that

"otherwise he'd go splat!" was the second worst line in this excerpt. the second i saw it i went. ah. why is that exclamation point there . . .

he seems to be worried about people finding him, which to me seems like a worry he'd only have toward the beginning of the book. i'd wager that this scene happens during the days he spends back-to-back light-leaping, as mentioned in stellarlune

i need dex to make keefe a panic switch. i need it to be teal. for. reasons

"he should be totally untraceable" keep believing that buddy

keefe pouring energy into trying to block an unblockable person from getting into his head is. weird. to me. you see him try to block her and then immediately after you get a monologue about how she's unblockable. weird waste of words, if you ask me

oh, boy, here comes the sokeefe

i thought it wouldn't be bad because for a while all he talks about is how he likes speaking to her telepathically. so i was like. oh, okay, i can handle this. this is cute. i get why this is the scene the marketing pushed. it gives fans a crumb of the story, while also remaining so vague about the actual plot that it won't spoil anything major

but then he started talking about the letter . . . it all goes downhill from there

i have a pet peeve for the way everyone around sophie claims she's "oblivious", which i don't believe to be the case at all. i genuinely don't think she's oblivious, which i've talked about. and even if it was a valid argument, i hate that it gets brought up so. much. and almost always feels like it's shaming sophie. can we leave it alone. so this point i was rolling my eyes

keefe thinking about sophie peeing through her leggings was! not! it! thank you, shannon! i did not! need that! this was the worst line in the excerpt. but also i wasn't surprised. idk what you all expected from keefe "king of cringy potty humor" sencen

speaking of middle names. i did briefly wonder before reading this excerpt whether the revelation would be made in it, because it isn't really plot-relevant (unless it is? idk) but also enough of a revelation to get people talking and hyped. but i was wrong

the weird sophitz bashing was. sigh. i've talked about this before, but jealousy isn't a character flaw to me, it's only the actions a character takes because of their jealousy that determines whether or not it's a character flaw. so this isn't really something that's objectively wrong with keefe, but it does grate on me all the same

it's annoying to me that keefe is convinced fitz is the one in the wrong and the reason sophitz broke down, though. i've talked about this before, but i would put roughly 90% of the blame of sophitz falling apart on sophie. it was mostly her fault. so the fact that keefe thinks that fitz needs to do all the groveling, when, realistically speaking, sophie should have to do a shit ton of it too, makes me go. sigh. typical keefe

i don't like keefe's mental image of sophie. i'll have more thoughts about this in the part two rant, but it feels incredibly dumbed down and feels like he sees her as a lot less mature and strong than she really is, and makes her seem more weak and silly. fin touches on that a little bit in this post, if you want more details. but the weirdly infantilized mental image of sophie continues in this excerpt. you can see that when he pictures fitz and sophie kissing, she bites her lip and idk that feels incredibly stereotypically like. adorable and soft and immature and cute. if that makes sense

the monologue about how sophie deserved to choose whoever she wanted without keefe shoving himself into her face is another symptom of shannon's immense capacity to show and not tell how sweet and perfect keefe is. i talked about this a lot in my rant, but keefe's actions portray him as pretty much the exact opposite of what he says here. he puts down fitz, he bolsters his own relationship with sophie, he assumes sophie will end up with him one day anyway, and so on. so to see that continue here, and to know that sokeefe stans will undoubtedly use this as evidence to continue to be delusional about their favorite guy, was. not fun for me

"he understood foster's feelings even better than she did" had me banging my head into the wall. tied with the peeing line for worst line in the excerpt. i hate this. it's inherently invalidating, and i despise the head-heart theory as a concept in general. probably this also ties into my hatred for sophie's "obliviousness"; i just don't like this idea that it's possible to know someone's emotions better than. they know their own emotions. to even say that is something that's just supremely, immensely invalidating, in and of itself. this post, also by fin, comes to mind. he explains it much better than i am right now. but anyway. thanks for taking sophie's agency to know what she's feeling away from her i guess. sure. make keefe the expert on sophie. this will end well

and then he continues to monologue about sophitz. which is like. i get he's jealous. but this is over the top

the line about how he hadn't been able to hang out with humans for long before he snapped intrigues me. maybe that's the scene before this one. idk

"not this pathetic angst" i hope shannon listens to that for the rest of the book

[nottakingresponsibility]

(Alright, alright. Hi. This whole thing is going to be OOC, and it's going to be attached to my pinned post from a link that goes to this post. To put it simply!) Let's lay out some proper rules for me and Jimmy here, cause apparently I overestimated people and their basic understanding of human decency! (I would REALLY prefer you read this.)

First off, if I say I don't want to roleplay something, don't go against me for that. It's my choice, and I have my own reasons for it. I own the blog, I get to decide what's canon to it and what isn't as well. Currently? It's kind of a mess. So if I ever feel the need to clean that up, don't get upset about it.

Be respectful in general, please! That should be a basic thing. I also, as I have stated, am not good at communicating. Please be patient with me. Me and Jimmy are two different people. I get it, he's an asshole. You can hate him all you want, don't take it to the mod. I just want to explore him as a character, we all have our own shit to deal with.

I am as human as you likely are. I'm not just a character from a game, I'm a real person. I have my boundaries, I have things I'm comfortable with doing, and things I'm not. It's hard to speak up about that, and I automatically assume people are assholes at first insult, keep that in mind. I WILL block you if you deserve it in my eyes, I block freely, and that's that. No second chances.

My mental health is a priority, I am a priority, this is my blog and I'm doing this for fun.

Now then! Onto actual roleplaying rules, sorry.

Don't control Jimmy for me, or at least not too often, alright? It kind of takes the fun out of it if I feel like I have to do a set thing. We all have fun here, yeah, and most of the time I'll let whatever happens, happen. But I do have my limits when it comes to getting annoyed.

I need everyone to know I roleplay in a specific way. I make Jimmy talk with "Speaking!" and when he does actions, it's just; He does an action! Wow! And that's that. I get why that could be confusing. Whatever happens in his thoughts, stays in there. People aren't just mind readers now, are they? When I talk out of character, it'll have () on both sides of the text. That's me, not Jimmy. Don't be an asshole or I'll think it's deliberately to me, and I'll block you. I feel like I really have to emphasize that.

The whole point of him is that he has secrets, yeah. He's a manipulative bastard, what a shock. It's not a huge problem, especially considering a lot of the anons are probably just voices in his head or whatever, and it will be assumed as such if you just know everything about him. Like Doubt for example! (Positive by the way, you're cool Doubt mod :])

Anything Jimmy does is not endorsed by the mod, I know roleplay is in character, it's fine if you're an asshole to him. Though, sometimes I wish the insane bullshit would die down a bit. Cause, between you and me? I don't know how to roleplay him getting killed twenty fucking times over. I never EVER want to be limiting on what you can do!! I'm just getting kind of tired of nothing on this blog making sense. :(

No death is canon by the way, ever. Unless it is decided by me AND the mod of whoever else is roleplaying. Or, if it's just me writing Jimmy in a stand alone post. In which, most of the time are free to interact with, do as you wish. A lot of the things he receives as 'gifts' I'm not even going to remember, I have a bad memory. Speaking of deaths and killing!

Please, if you're gonna kill Jimmy and even slightly THINK of making it canon, make it make sense. And, also, ask me first. It can be in the tags, you don't have to DM me, I always read tags. In fact, I'd probably prefer to not get DMED anyway.

Please understand there's several Jimmys in several different places. He may be terribly injured one place, and completely fine in another for the convenience of asks and other roleplays. Of course, that's always open. You want to roleplay with an upset, stressed and or injured Jimmy? Go ahead. You want to roleplay with normal Jimmy? Sure.

I can delete asks freely. Especially if I just don't know how to answer them, or really don't feel like putting that on the blog. If I stop roleplaying with you, again, it's NOT personal! I just don't fucking know how to respond or I got tired of the way things were going, I may or may not be on the neurodivergent spectrum bear with me. Or I just. You know, took a break, took care of myself, perhaps took a nap. I have a life I fear.

I don't exactly know how to cover everything here, but just think basic roleplaying rules. Don't be an asshole to the mod, and have fun, don't expect everything to be canon. They can be with the specific character he's roleplaying with, but don't always expect it to be canon throughout the whole blog! If you're somehow really that clueless, feel free to search up 'basic roleplaying rules' on Google or something. I can't explain things right when I'm not thinking straight. This is NOT up for debate, none of these rules are, I mean. And if you want to stay on this blog, I expect you to read them.

[sevendeadlywhispers]

7Seals

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Chapter 17

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•Previous Chapter: Chapter Sixteen

•Next Chapter: Chapter Eighteen

•Chapter List

•New chapters every Thursday

•Content: Levi Ackerman × OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

•Word Count: 1.3k

•Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with (*) at each chapter.

A/N: Hey y’all ♡

I’m having horrible writers block. Some pieces aren’t fitting the way I wanted to so I can only do one chapter this week. I’ve decided that one Thursday every month I won’t post unless I’m itching to. My goal for that is to make sure I don’t catch up to my chapters I haven’t posted yet so I have something for y’all to read when I get stuck. Hopefully I get some creative juices in me soon cause there’s so much I have to still write about. I’m so excited for the third seal🫶🏼

Also! Shoutout to all y’all who binged the story recently. I loved seeing each part you were all at! It really helped me write some stuff for the current chapter I’m on. Love y’all’s support!!!!

(3-20-24)

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Levi's Perspective

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"Captain Levi"

I narrowed my eyes at the sight of him—the man I despised more than any other. His once proud stature had been reduced to that of a broken man, shackled by his own demons and the weight of his crimes.

I met his gaze with a steely glare, his eyes held a feral intensity, worse from the last time I saw him.

"Alexander," I replied icily, keeping my tone devoid of emotion. His smile widened, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.

"What brings you here?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice.

"I was in town," I replied curtly. "Wanted to see how desperate and disgusting you looked after all these years."

His laughter echoed off the walls of the cell, a hollow sound that mixed together with the clinking of shackles on his limbs.

"Ah, Levi, always the charmer," he mocked, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Did you miss me?"

I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to maintain my composure in the face of his taunts.

"Careful now," I warned, forcing a smirk. "Wouldn't want to end up like last time."

But Alexander just laughed, reclining against the cold stone floor with a smug smirk.

"Oh Levi," he sighed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're so quick to violence. Makes me wonder if above ground is really meant for someone like you."

"You're one to talk," I shot back, my voice laced with venom. "You grew up in the same filth I did."

But he just laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed off the walls of the cell.

"You think we're the same, huh?" he taunted, his eyes boring into mine with a chilling intensity.

I took a step closer to him, my fists clenched at my sides as I fought to suppress the rage bubbling beneath the surface.

"I might be a rat, but I'm not a shitbag like you," I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. "Cut the shit and tell me— who's killing the Scouts again? Is it Carter? You calling the shots behind bars?"

But Alexander remained silent, his smug smirk never wavering as he watched my every move. I gritted my teeth in frustration, knowing that Erwin's orders bound my hands, preventing me from unleashing the full extent of my wrath upon him.

I pivoted on my heel to turn back but the echo of Alexander's voice pulled me back into the suffocating atmosphere of his cell.

"How's Iris?" he jeered, his grin twisting into a smirk that oozed malice. I shot him a withering glare, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You don't deserve to know a damn thing about her,"

His laughter grated on my nerves, a grating sound that echoed off the stone walls.

"Touchy, touchy," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement.

"Let me ask you something though. Did you fuck her yet? Or is she still saving herself for marriage?"

"Shut your mouth, scum," I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

But he just leaned against the cell bars, his smirk widening into a smirk.

"What's the matter, Captain? Can't handle a little banter?"

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot through the bars of his cell, seizing his collar with a vice-like grip. With a swift motion, I yanked him towards me, his body slamming against the unforgiving iron bars.

I watched with grim satisfaction as his face contorted in pain, the metal pressing into his flesh. Yet, despite the agony etched across his features, he dared to smirk at me, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.

"I know she's in Wall Sina right now," Alexander choked out against my grip.

"Stay the fuck away," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, as I spat in his face, relishing the sight of my saliva trailing down his cheek.

His smirk widened into a grotesque grin, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a vulgar display. "It won't be me touching her," he taunted, his words a venomous echo in the dimly lit cell.

Disgust surged through me like a tidal wave, fueling the fury that burned within. The red haze descended over my vision, a veil of fury that clouded my senses and consumed my every thought. In that moment, rationality fled, leaving only raw, unbridled rage coursing through my veins.

This insolent little shit thought he could mock me, thought he could make light of the pain and suffering he'd caused. The audacity of it all ignited a firestorm within me, stoking the flames of my fury to new heights.

My elbow met his face with relentless force, each blow a symphony of vengeance echoing through the cold, stone halls of this damp dungeon. His anguished cries reverberated off the walls, a jarring agony that served as a grim will to his crimes.

I cared not for the ears that heard his pleas, nor for the consequences that may follow. All that mattered was the burning desire to see him suffer, to witness him endure the same torment he had so callously inflicted upon her.

The sight of blood streaming down his battered visage only fueled my resolve of the justice he so rightfully deserved. Though my pristine white shirt bore the stains of his punishment, I cared not for appearances. All that mattered was the relentless pursuit of retribution, a relentless storm of fury that showed no signs of abating.

His screams filled the air, a symphony of agony that still echoed through the darkness of the cell block. But even as the blood began to flow, I felt no satisfaction, no relief from the torment that gnawed at my soul.

I wanted him dead.

As I stood amidst the chaos, the echoes of my own name reverberated through the air, accompanied by the unwelcome touch of another's hands upon my person. My immediate response was sharp and unforgiving.

"Get the fuck off me," I growled, my voice cutting through the clamor as I forcefully shook off the unwanted contact, releasing my grip on Alexander and allowing him to crumple to the ground in a heap.

"We need a medic!"

The urgency in the interior police's voices only served to heighten the tension of the situation, their frantic shouts mingling with the sound of my own exasperated sigh.

"You got blood all over my sleeve," I muttered irritably, casting a disdainful glance at Alexander as I attempted to straighten out the mess he had caused.

Turning my attention to the trembling interior police, I couldn't help but feel a surge of impatience at their obvious unease. Rolling up my sleeves to conceal the bloodstains, I met their gaze with a cool and unwavering stare.

"His nose is broken. Might want to get that taken care of quickly or he might lose consciousness. Either way, I don't care," I stated bluntly, my words devoid of sympathy as I prepared to leave the scene behind me.

"Hey, you can't leave yet," one of the interior police protested, attempting to bar my path with a shaky hand.

"And why's that?" I countered, arching an eyebrow at the young officer before me, his nervous demeanor only serving to irritate me further.

"You need to fill out an incident report," he explained, his voice trembling with uncertainty as he attempted to assert his authority.

Glancing back at Alexander, who lay bloodied and battered on the floor, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

"Your incident report is barely breathing on the ground right now, I suggest you take care of it." I instructed calmly, yet with an unmistakable undercurrent of authority in my tone.

The young man quivered before me, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of my stare. With a muttered apology, he stepped aside, allowing me to pass with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Smart choice."

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[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Any thoughts on the casting for The Last of Us season 2?

Oh god. So many.

So, I actually have all of TLOU show related tags blocked - because just seeing mentions of the show gets me kind of ticked. I miss the strike era when production of the show was delayed indefinitely.

But as far as the casting - I think Dina's casting is alright. I was one of those people who was naively hoping that Cascina would actually get to play Dina in the show, but I knew realistically that was never actually gonna happen.

Abby's casting however - I genuinely think that Kaitlyn Denver is a horrible choice. Like they looked up all the people who absolutely cannot play Abby and then they picked her.

Someone said that she looks like young Ellie - and I think for a long time, she was a popular fancast for Ellie. And to me, she looks like she can maybe only play young Abby in flashbacks. So unless they're gonna completely surprise people and only have her playing young Abby and then have someone else playing the real main timeline version of Abby - it won't work.

If you guys know me, then you know that I am incredibly protective of Abby's character. And based on the complete bastardization that they did of Season 1/TLOU 1, I already knew that they were going to royally fuck up Abby's character in some way.

And yes, I am basing most of my opinions on the fact that she is small and thin and Abby is supposed to be muscled, but people don't understand how pivotal that aesthetic is as a part of Abby's characterization.

(And they were never going to find someone perfect unless they used 2 different actors - one for flashbacks and one for the main timeline - because Abby gets ripped over years but it is shown in one short story, and her model was made with 2 different people - one for the face and one for the body, so they could keep her face on a younger, thinner body in flashbacks.)

Abby being muscled is actually a pivotal thing - it means she is feared and respected among the WLF, it means that Lev and Yara immediately fall in and trust to follow her through the woods because they view her as a protector when they are vulnerable and alone. Her body is a tool that is useful to her - it makes her completely immune to Isaac's violence right up until the moment she looks him in the eyes and asks him not to shoot Lev, and even then, he is asking her to step away from Lev so that he doesn't have to kill his best solider.

Isaac was more willing to kill Owen - thinking of Owen as disposable - than he was willing to kill Abby. And I think that breach of our society's typical sexism (where a man is always a better fighter, Abby supersedes that) in their post apocalyptic world, is really, truly shown by Abby's large stature.

Not only that, but it makes her physical malnutrition and how much she has wasted away because of the Rattlers that much more shocking. (Which, if they were going to depict that, it would be easy to do so with a heavily muscled actor and then make them look shockingly thin with CGI and makeup - but that scene is one of the reasons why video games are sometimes a better format. It being 100% computer generated means no actors had to be harmed during those scenes.)

Also (I wish I had screenshots of the specific lines) - but Abby and Owen's breakup at the Aquarium is about her training (her urge to gain muscle in order to aid of her long term revenge mission toward Joel) - Owen is surprised when Abby says she can bench press 140 pounds, and therefore, she can easily lift him. And Owen is insulted that Abby wants to spend more time training than she does with him - he is upset that her trauma and her revenge has overtaken her life to the point where she doesn't want to goof off watching spotted seals, and instead - just wants to train more.

And this leads more into the dynamic of - Owen is a disposable pawn (who pretends to take a pacifist stance when he's really a coward) and Abby has to vouch for his life with Isaac because she is infinitely more valued in the organization.

There is just a lot of layers to it - and they're already fucking it up.

I am trying my hardest to ignore the fact that she show exists, but it's actively lowering the IQ of the fandom every single day, and now I am gonna have to take braindead Abby takes from people who have only seen the show, and I genuinely wish it had never been made in the first place.

[faeflowerz]

Giving Head in Public: Riddle

CW: Fem!Reader giving sloppy toppy. Giving dome. Bobbin on the knob. Oral. Oh also Riddle's hung so yeah. Do not interact with this post if you are under 18 or don't have your age in your bio. You WILL be immediately blocked.

A/N: I was gonna finish part two of the first years thing but I got to thinking about this. Don't perceive me.

Sooooooooo, Riddle is def the kind of boy who would freak out if suddenly met with an s/o looking to suck him off. I got a few scenarios too. Im a whore for him and my mouth is made for him. Seriously, i blacked out for half of this.

In the rose garden would catch him by surprise for sure. It's another tea party and like usual, its a controlled chaos. Riddle is trying to have a conversation with Trey, but its hard when you're groping his thighs. You are sitting there smiling and pretending to be invested in whatever Cater is telling Ace but every so often you glance to see your boyfriend clear his throat and shift slightly. You've got your hand on one of his thick thighs and it's moving higher up and between his legs.

Riddle's trying to keep his composure. You'd been pretty needy lately and although he promised that he'd give you attention tonight, his strict curfew and this long ass party won't give you enough time with him before bed. So, this is your alternative. Your fingers sink into his soft meaty legs and the glint of anger in his big pretty eyes sends a delightful surge of excitement to your pussy. Fuck, you love when he gives you that look. It meant that you're gonna have it coming later.

When your fingers brush against a familiar lump, Riddle's face softens. He's rather sensitive and those skintight pants make it impossible for him to wear underwear. He tries to drink his tea as your index finger traces the thickness strained against his thigh. You haven't gone all the way yet, but you didn't shy away from your urges. And you can't take it anymore.

Nobody notices when you slip out of your chair and under the table. Nobody but Riddle. In that moment, he decides that he can't call you out on it. Unless he wanted the entire party to see his scepter, he has to sit there. Underneath, you're dragging your tongue along the outline of his cock, leaving slight wet stains on the fabric. You can't hold back as you go right for the main course. Pulling down his pants, his dick slowly rises once its free. You personally blame Riddle for your oral fixation.

His cock is girthy, and the tip gets bright red when he's horny, upset, embarrassed...or any other emotion he goes through when you do shit like this. Does it bother him? Yes. Does he cum harder when you're in public? Also yes. Why else would you do it besides your nympho tendencies? Your mouth is watering as you open wide to lead his cockhead past your lips. Riddle's pre spurts out when you twirl your tongue. His thighs tense up for a moment and you rub gentle circles with your thumbs to calm him down.

"Are you alright? You look a little red."

"Ah, it's nothing."

"Wait, where's...I don't see them anywhere."

"They had to...ahem, make a call." He's an awful liar, but no one calls him out on it. He's screaming on the inside as his dick slides deeper down your throat. The first time you did that, his soul nearly ascended. You wish you could see his face. He always makes the cutest reactions and its a shame when you miss out. Riddle's cock is throbbing just like you like it. Soon, you reach his base. Your nose gets buried in his soft rosebush. Despite the shower, his natural scent is already coming through. With a pleased sigh, you pull back slightly before setting a slow pace. It was agony for him but he can handle a little torture.

Riddle's weak now. His legs have gone slack as you very nearly suck the life out of him. Sweat clings to the back of his neck and he's got the cutest rosy red on his cheeks. You were nothing but trouble and yet...he never made you stop. Every time you got between his legs, Riddle never pulled you off. How could he when you clung to him so tightly?

Your eyes lull closed and you're slobbering all over him. When you grab his ass, Riddle bucks suddenly. That's when you bob your head faster. One of his hands grabs your hair and he pulls. Hard. That nearly makes you cum. Enough playing around. Riddle pulls on your hair until most of his dick is out of your mouth before he slams back into you.

When he cums, he makes sure you take it all. He likes to paint your face white, but since everyone is still milling about, you gotta swallow. The queen is pretty demanding but isn't that why he's in charge in the first place? Once he finishes, you're humping his leg like a bitch in heat. The slick of your pussy stains his boot but you genuinely couldn't care less. One more thing for him to punish you for. Just the thought of him finally fucking you into his mattress eggs you on.

And yes. Trey probably figures out what you were doing down there.

The library isn't off limits either. Like ok.

Riddle's not seen you in some time because exams always sends him into overdrive. He tends to push people away during his study sessions because when it comes to exams, he goes at it alone. Unfortunately, he demands that you also keep your distance too. Sad face. You understand, though. He's type A and you're distracting. Still, he sends you texts and sweet little notes to let you know that he does think about you. Really, your relationship is usually really sweet and cute outside of all the oral (and anal).

Anyway, you miss him. Of course you do! Your fingers are soaked and you've been moaning loud enough to scare the ghosts. Surely he's been stressed, right? Right.

You go on the prowl for him, asking around to find him. Its that terrifying glint in your eye that finally makes everyone fess up: he's in the library. Riddle won't mind if you pay him a visit. He needs a break. A good intense break.

"I thought I told you to keep your distance," he says firmly. Riddle's had his nose in his book but when your perfume comes wafting by him, he's ready to kick you out. But it's hard. When you wear lipstick, he knows you're not playing around with him. There's no way to get rid of you once you put make up on. "Darling, we can't."

"Aren’t you stressed? Pent up? Besides, you need more breaks," you plop down next to him. Riddle closes his book and stands up.

"I'll have plenty of time for you once exams are over," he promises as he disappears into the rows of bookshelves. "They're insatiable." He mutters as he puts the book back into its proper place. Once he turns around, you're behind him. Riddle nearly screams but you're pressing kisses onto his lips to shut him up. Caged between your arms, your boyfriend looks at you like a terrified animal. He knows what's coming next.

"I wasn't asking. I was telling," now your kisses trail to his neck, leaving marks all over his pale skin. Riddle begs for mercy when you rip his vest and blouse open. The air conditioning makes his nipples harden. You're already teasing and sucking on his sensitive pudgy chest once he's exposed. In your excitement, you bite into him. Those moans and squeals are too fucking good. And his tummy. Oh, it's just as soft as the rest of him. Here, you bite a whole lot more and make sure to kiss hard enough to bruise lightly. All he can do is hold onto your shoulders when you unzip his pants and let them fall. Finally.

From this angle, you can look at him while you do it. Any time he gets shy, you have to bite his belly to get his attention again. His eyes do focus on you and he's trying not to cry as you cover his dick in lipstick kisses. Eye contact both turned him on and embarrassed him in these moments. You drape one of his legs over your shoulder and let him set the speed. From what you can tell, he's been wound tightly. You empty his balls nearly every day so going without for a week was probably killing him.

I love the idea of him being the type to have absolutely no rhythm when he's horny. Riddle's brain shuts off pretty quickly once he gives in. Just like now. Your throats being fucked and effectively keeps you from breathing properly. It's like he's trying to bruise your esophagus now. With nothing else to hold onto, you grab his fat ass. "Ahn! Haah! Damn it..." he curses as he puts more weight on you. If this is how you die there'd be no complaints from you. Tears well in the corner of your eyes and now your mascara starts trailing down your cheeks. The lipstick was long smudged already too.

Your throat was so tight and wet around his dick. Part of him wished he'd never told you to stay away. Maybe he would have been less stressed with you around. Then again, plugging your hole after such a long time felt even better. Now he's letting out these cute little grunts and growls with each thrust. Riddle bites his lip to keep from getting any louder. You have to brace yourself now that he's getting sloppy.

"Almost...almost..." Riddle's balls tighten and his hips still as he shoots his thick heavy load straight down your throat. Of course you take it like a champ. With a heaving chest, he pulls out. Immediately, you miss that full feeling in your mouth. "You're...you're going to be the death of me..." Riddle pants. Then he pulls you up to your feet and kiss you. "Perhaps a proper break is in order?"

[emma-m-black]

Doctor White - Chapter Four

Tom Koracick x OC (FanFiction)

This is a super rough draft of a Tom Koracick x OC story I've had in my head. I got a ton of chapters done, but then kind of his a block at a cliff hanger and I figure, perhaps if I post it, maybe I can figure out what to do next.

Rating is probably close to PG, don't think there is any spicey bits, pretty tame.

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter Four

“This will be our office. I had Bailey free something up for you,” Tom said, opening the door to research room three. “I have to fly out in a few hours, and I expect your written proposal in my inbox by the time I land, so I can review it. Once we’re approved, you can start filling this place with whatever you need.” He handed a set of keys to Elizabeth, placing them firmly in her palm.

“Dr. Koracick, thank you for doing this,” Elizabeth replied, her voice sincere. She stepped into the room, setting her laptop down on a bare desk. She looked around, picturing the space bustling with equipment, workstations, and even cages for mice with brain tumors. It felt like potential was hovering in the air.

“Of course,” he replied simply, as if arranging all this was no big deal. Tom patted the outside of his jacket before slipping a hand inside to pull out his phone. After quickly entering his passcode, he handed the device to Elizabeth.

She took it, inputting her contact information, and handed it back. A second later, her pocket vibrated, signaling that he’d already messaged her.

“Tom?” The familiar voice of Amelia drifted in as she entered the room. “I thought you’d already left.”

Tom slid his hands into the pockets of his dark grey pants and smirked. “Miss me already, did you?”

“Actually, I could use that brain of yours for a project,” Amelia replied, casting a curious glance around the empty room. “Unless… are you?”

“I can share, but if my idea gets funding, he’s all mine,” Elizabeth interjected, a small smirk on her face.

“Sweetheart, you’d never have to share me,” Tom replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Just go, before you miss your plane and I’m stuck with you for another day.”

“Wait, are you two…?” Amelia asked, looking between them with raised eyebrows.

“Ick, no. She has cooties,” Tom replied, scrunching his nose and sticking out his tongue.

Elizabeth scoffed, reaching into her coat pocket to pull out a pen, which she lightly tossed at his chest. “Rude.”

He caught it effortlessly, laughing as he pocketed the pen. “Well, it’s mine now. You’re a terrible pen parent and don’t deserve to keep him,” he quipped, gesturing for Amelia to lead the way.

Elizabeth let out a chuckle as she sat down, opening her laptop. Pulling a nearby chair closer with the toe of her shoe, she got to work on her proposal.

“Oww!” Elizabeth groaned as she lifted her head from the desk, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Her laptop’s screen was dark, the battery long dead. She rubbed her neck, feeling the tension there. Her phone, lying on the desk, flashed green with a series of missed messages from an unknown number.

I’ve landed, and there’s nothing in my inbox. - T

Did you run into a problem? Call me, and we can work through it. - T

Did you fall asleep? - T

You fell asleep, didn’t you? Well, after you’ve woken, had coffee, and something to eat, give me a call. - T

The last message had arrived just five minutes ago. Without thinking, she tapped his number and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Fell asleep?” Tom’s voice asked, slightly amused.

“Yeah, sorry. I was reviewing the proposal when I must’ve dozed off. Now my computer’s dead, and I’m afraid I might fall asleep on the drive home.”

“If you’re that tired, don’t drive. Find an on-call room—they’re pretty comfortable at Grey Sloan.”

The tone in his voice made her raise an eyebrow. “Ew. Also, I’m off tomorrow… or today, I guess. I’d rather sleep in my own bed. I’ll send the proposal as soon as I get home and plug my computer in.”

“Well, until then, I’m staying on the line, so no hanging up.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Says the woman who just drooled on the desk I got her.”

“I didn’t drool.” She huffed, closing her laptop and gathering it under her arm.

“Sure, sure. But if you did, I bet it was cute.”

Elizabeth flipped off the light and shut the door. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“It’s one of my best qualities—right after this thing I can do with my tongue.”

“Koracick!” Elizabeth nearly shouted, causing a few passing nurses to glance her way.

“What, did you just turn my tongue trick into something dirty?”

“You know I really don’t like you,” she said as she stepped into the elevator.

“You love me; don’t deny it. So tell me, why didn’t you accept my offer for residency?”

Elizabeth sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m busted, aren’t I?”

“I knew exactly who you were when we met. So tell me, why didn’t you accept the match at Hopkins or the generous offer I got the board to make when you became a resident?”

“Honestly?” She hesitated as the elevator filled with Doctors Owen Hunt and Richard Webber. She shifted over to make room, lowering her voice. “I thought you were an asshole. I mean, it’s still up for debate,” she added with a chuckle. Owen and Richard turned slightly, glancing curiously at her.

“But learning from the best didn’t mean much if I couldn’t stand the teacher. So I watched your lectures, practiced your methods, and, might I add, I was brilliant at it.”

“Did you know you’re both infuriating and amazing?”

“I’ve heard that before—usually in bed, though.” The words slipped out, and she winced as Owen stifled a laugh, while Richard, a few paces ahead, shook his head slightly.

“I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I thought it was a brilliant response.”

“Yeah, well, the people in this elevator don’t agree.”

Tom’s laughter rang through the phone, just as the elevator doors dinged open on the main level. Owen motioned for Elizabeth to go ahead, and she gave him a nod before stepping out into the lobby.

“You know what, good night, Dr. Koracick,” she said with a smile. “I promise not to fall asleep behind the wheel. Goodnight.” She ended the call, still smiling.

Owen caught up to her. “It was pretty funny,” he admitted.

“Owen Hunt,” he said, holding out his hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced—I’ve only barked orders at you in passing. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“It’s fine; comes with the job,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Elizabeth White.”

They continued walking together. “So, Elizabeth, any relation to Dr. White in Cardio?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s my father.”

“Yikes,” Owen said, grimacing.

“Yep, that’s the usual reaction,” she said, shrugging. “He’s amazing at what he does, but… nothing’s ever good enough for him.”

Owen noticed her exhaustion. “You know, I did follow you out here because you left in your scrubs and coat. Figured you might actually fall asleep at the wheel.”

Elizabeth gasped, looking down at herself. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Maybe I should have found an on-call room.”

“How about you crash on my couch?”

She sighed, too tired to argue. “I was supposed to have tomorrow off, but I’m probably just going to end up back here, so alright, lead the way.”

When they reached his truck, Owen helped her in, steadying her as she half-climbed, half-stumbled into the seat. The drive was quiet, and Elizabeth dozed until they arrived, jolted awake by the truck’s abrupt stop.

“We’re here,” Owen said, catching her as she nearly slid out of the truck. “Didn’t realize you are that short.”

“Hey, I’m not that short; your truck is just absurdly tall,” she laughed.

Inside, Owen handed her an oversized, well-worn T-shirt and pointed down the hall. “The bathroom’s just there, and there should be some spare toiletries in the drawer.”

“Thanks, Doctor Hunt.”

“Owen, please.”

“Thanks, Owen.” She changed quickly, scrubbing her face clean and brushing her teeth. When she returned, she found he’d set up the couch with a sheet, pillows, and a couple of blankets.

“Thanks again for this,” she said, settling onto the makeshift bed.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, grinning. “I’d offer you the bed, but I don’t think I’m ready to witness these ‘skills’ of yours firsthand.”

Elizabeth laughed, tossing a throw pillow at him as he darted down the hallway. “Rude, Owen Hunt. Just rude.”

Chapter Five

[rinse-and-repeat2]

Decided to go through with it and start posting my different AUs, but I'll only do a few per post to keep it short (tried to do all of them in one post but it ended up being so long that it was crazy) so maybe about 3 per post? sure, yeah, and I'll add a small excerpt for each if I've written one for that particular AU. If you don't want to see them just uhh I dunno block the rinse AUs tag or something sure there you go anyway here's to the first group

Sunset Order AU - An AU about Dale, Warren, and their parent’s backstory. This includes something I created called the Sunset Order which is a branch off of the Knights of Dawn for any kind of behind-the-scenes work that would need to be done, including getting hands dirty (which was made while the Sphinx was the head of the Knights). When Dale is forced into the magical world not exactly by choice, he has to quickly adapt and continue to care for Warren after the recent deaths of their parents alongside uncovering secrets from their past. In its entirety, this is self-indulgent and cobbled together by how little we know about their past/the past of Fablehaven. (No excerpt written)

Street Magic AU - Another short idea I had where magic is more widely known, and the preserves instead serve as schools (very, very prestigious schools). This is in a much more modern world, and magic is incredibly complicated to wield. So, it's often not used unless you pay for the education. Much of the population cannot use magic because of this. Kendra, having shown a proficiency in her understanding of magic, is able to get a full-ride scholarship to what would be Fablehaven's school. Meanwhile, Seth (who is not good at typical academics, studying, and the like) finds a typical, yet hidden, magician's shop and begins to learn magic there instead, under many people's noses (as he does). While Kendra begins to learn what secrets Fablehaven was built on, Seth learns magic in its entirety, not the typical watered-down version by society. (No excerpt written)

Viridity - This one is very near and dear to my heart, but it may not be that near and dear to some others because one of the main people it focuses on is Knox and it also has to acknowledge the end of Dragonwatch (whatever that was). This is a character study on Knox, Seth, and the relationship between them, as they're the same age but such different people in such different situations. This deals with reflections, comparisons, and interactions between them in almost one-shot form. This is partially an AU because I change bits and pieces of the end of Dragonwatch as I wish, but I also keep it as a plot in order to sow doubt after the fact. This fanfiction is about masks, late night conversations, sleep deprivation, and the inherent doubt that is included in growing up (Excerpt Incoming).

Silence worked its way around the room again, filling the gaps no longer in a comfortable way, but in a way where it sunk into their bones, sidled up next to them and breathed down their necks. A shiver rattled down Seth’s spine as an undercurrent began to flow of some emotion he couldn’t identify. Breaths were no longer easy to come by as they had been moments before. Now, suddenly, Seth stood in the kitchen with someone else when before, he had been happily existing alone. It felt… off. Wrong. As if Knox’s eyes could somehow pierce through his very being, analyze him… despite knowing Knox couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that. Kendra would, of course, but not Knox. Not… Knox didn’t have the brainpower to do that, probably. Even now, he spun and flicked the milk bottle cap on the table, looking frustrated every time it spun out and fell. Seth would usually laugh at him, say something about the stupid face he made every time he failed, but Seth couldn’t. Tonight, the tension hung heavy in the air like a smog, having followed Seth down ever since his dream—nightmare, not dream, his mind tugged at him—and it wouldn’t go. It wouldn’t leave. “I’m sorry.” The word slipped from his mouth like a whisper, a small wisp that gets caught up in the smog. He didn’t know why the words came from his mouth—whether it stood as a betrayal from his mind or sleep deprivation finally grasping him in its claws. Maybe… maybe Knox hadn’t heard him. Maybe this would blow over and mean nothing. Knox, meanwhile, stared at Seth, eyes wide and bottle cap forgotten, halfway teetering off the edge before it fell, plummeting to the ground with a sharp clatter. “…What?” Well, shit.

(If you have any questions, want to comment, send an ask, anything else, please do! I love these AUs with my whole heart, whether or not they're anywhere close to being done and I'm going to keep sharing them)

[hannahcrowley]

Welcome!

Hi! I am the admin of this blog, and this blog is specifically for rping in the Twisted Wonderland community o: My friend @castaway-achlys got me into this by telling me all sorts of wonderful things about his experience so far, and I am finally joining. Below are some disclaimers and rules, and the character the blog is centered around! Thanks!

Rules

Be kind! Whether to me or others, this blog is made for fun and I'm just here to have a good time with my friend and try and make more twst friends!

Try not to be weird (in a bad way). I don't mind weird, but even I have limits.

Pro-shippers, MAPs, racists, homophobes, transphobes, etc. Do not interact.

If you are a minor please do not interact with NSFW posts I may make! My character is an adult and as such has those sort of experiences. I will block you if you are a minor interacting with such posts!!

OCs and Canon characters are definitely allowed to interact! I promise I only bite a little :D

Please try not to spam my messages too much! I don't mind the occasional spam from friends and mutuals, but like, at least talk with me a bit first before you absolutely spam me lol

I ask kindly that you don't vent to me unless we are good friends!! And please ask before you vent (unless you are like super close). I don't mind vents, I just have my own issues I am dealing with as well!

Please use tone tags if asked, as I do struggle reading tone in text.

Disclaimers

Admin and characters are 18+! This blog may contain use of alcohol, drugs, NSFW, and other adult content! Posts will be tagged accordingly!

Posts may contain swear words! These will not be tagged as such.

Follows, likes and asks will not come from this blog. This is just a side blog so my main blog will be the one sending stuff (though it's fairly empty lol)

If you end up being a frequent anon please sign off as something like an emoji or name! I want to keep track of these things!

If I do anything to offend you please let me know! I'd rather be told straight out than continue an action that continues to offend someone!

About Admin!

Admin is over 25 years of age! Keep that in mind when interacting!

Admin is cis female, pansexual, and polyamorous.

Admin uses she/her pronouns, but is chill with whatever comes up for them.

Admin has a lot of mental health issues, including AuDHD!

Admin can interact with oc and other characters!

Will mostly appear in tags!!

About Hannah!

Hannah is 21 years of age and was born on May 19th. She is a taurus.

Hannah is pansexual and polyamorous.

Hannah is Crowley's adopted daughter, who he had kept hidden away on campus. She basically raised herself after age 4 and has been living in the teacher's dorms on campus in an abandoned room. No one goes near the room! She does not respect her father, but does still love him... somewhat.

Hannah is in the Diasomnia dorm.

Hannah was chosen by the mirror at age 16 but her letter was kept sealed by Crowley, as he was not ready to let her out into the world.

Hannah is a first year as a result at the age of 21.

Hannah's hobbies consist of singing, drawing, cooking, and reading. She loves romance books in particular!

Hannah is 5ft tall.

Hannah has long, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes that tend to be a bit of a dirty green.

I will post images of Hannah from time to time on this blog, as I do tend to draw her a lot when I'm bored or warming up for commissions. (Admin does do art and may occasionally post!)

Anon List!

This is just a place to put anon's who frequent the blog! :D

Thank you cafekitsune for the free to use dividers!

[battle-subway-ghost]

Intro.

Never been good at introducing myself. But, here we go.

I'm Paris. Or Ghost. Either one works. Ghost is a nickname, and has been an alias for a while now. I don't really care which one you want to call me. Anyways, I'm 24, and my pronouns are he/him.

I used to fight in the Battle Subway a lot. So if you remember a guy named "Ghost" from there, that's probably me. That's all over now though, I've been living in Galar for a while now. Still connected to my Unovan roots though. Imagine some braviary sound effects here, I don't fucking know.

If you think you recognize me, firstly no you don't. I keep my face private for a reason. Secondly, don't come up to me if you aren't looking to have a battle. Not gonna force you but I don't like talking to strangers outside of that.

So my horse accidentally posted a video of me getting attacked by my rival's Froslass. So my face is kinda out there now. Don't fucking harass me or shit like that, don't be a weirdo. (and no, this doesnt mean ill be posting more pictures of myself. Don't ask.)

Anyways. Enough about me, here's my team.

I've also got a battler in-training, and 3 rattata that I keep as pets. I might as well give 'em all a graphic here.

FAQ because people in real life keep asking me this:

Q: Cheri looks very pink. Is that normal? A: Yes, he does. It probably is.

Q: Is that a shiny alolan rattata? A: No. Bean is albino.

Q: What's wrong with Grungle? A: Nothing. He's a weird subspecies or hybrid, not sure which yet. Either way, he's REALLY FUCKING BLUE NOW, HOLY SHIT. He's safe though- it's not dangerous.

Dunno what else to say here. My main interests are battling, so if you have any questions about that, feel free to ask me. I'm not an actual EXPERT on it or anything, but it's whatever.

Hello! This is the OOC part of the introduction! I follow from @act11as, and ooc posts will be tagged as such, and will usually have the color green. I don't always do this, as it can be grating to look at after a while.

My rotomblr "hub" account is @battle-subway-aftershow!

Muse is an adult, mod is a minor. Don't be weird, or I'll screenshot your ask and make fun of you with my friends. Into the hall of shame with you.

(Weird: NSFW/Suggestive asks, fetish mining, etc. Do not fucking do these.)

Additionally: If your main is NSFW, please do not follow me. I will block you for my own comfort.

ALL TRIGGER WARNINGS WILL BE TAGGED AS "[word] tw"! This is to make it easier to blacklist things! if I ever miss something or you need me to tag something in specific, shoot me an ask or a dm! I'll try to remember.

Guidelines/Rules I guess?

*ALMOST ANY kind of Pokemon Irl blog can interact! Eeby deebies, sapient pokemon, evil teams, whatever! I cannot guarantee that Paris will be nice to you, (ESPECIALLY an evil team) or believe you.

*Self-Insert fallers, please do not interact. I personally cannot handle these kinds of blogs. Self-insert ocs are fine, but the idea of a real person on rotomblr being isekaid into Pokémon is not.

IN CHARACTER anon hate is perfectly fine! Be an asshole to Paris! Keep in mind that I won't always respond to these however, especially if they go too far in my eyes.

PARIS CAN AND WILL BE AN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR! He doesn't know all the details, he can be wrong, he can flat out lie. Just something to keep in mind!

Extra:

Mystery Gifts are now open! And Preferred! Feel free to go crazy with this ^^

Pelipper Mail, un-mail, and Malice are always open! Feel free to torment this guy whenever you so please. (links go to the source posts for all 3 lol)

Musharna mail, (sending dreams) and Musharna malice (sending nightmares) are always on! Once again feel free to torment this guy.

Magic anons are usually off, unless I specifically specify otherwise!

Organizational tags:

#[nickname] the [pokemon] - Most posts about Paris' pokemon should be tagged like this.

#mind's eye - Usually ask games- these are not things Paris would actually say out loud, at least in the way the post says it, to a degree! Consider these semi-canon in nature. Feel free to press him outside of ask games, if you see something interesting though ^^

#Paris used Sleep Talk - a bit of a mixed bag, posts made by Paris either when he’s tired, falling asleep, or actually asleep. Usually angst but can be memes as well. Mixed bag like I said

#rival tag - Tag for posts mentioning/about Paris' rival, also known as @/subzeroiceshard

#mylah tag - Tag used for @/tinkatinktrain- Paris' friend.

#sprite tag - Tag used for @/thatfailedpokemontrainer- similar situation to the above.

#frosty tag - Tag used for @/frosty-sneasel!

#bluebird anon/bluebird tag - Tag used for @/blu3b1rdsss!

#beedrill tag - Tag used for @/a-nickits-den!

#shilo tag - Tag for @/shilo-sumac!

Previous arcs/Lore:

#A Frosty Reception / #A Frosty Reception 2.0 - Takeovers of one of Paris' childhood friends. done twice because I kept getting sick :(

#Gone Fishing Arc - Paris fucked off into the woods and almost never returned! Good look into his character. (warnings for pokemon attacks, injury, and frostbite)

#Kicked to Kanto - Smaller thing, what it says on the tin.

#Team Fauna - Inconsistently tagged, but should have the vital bits in the general area? (Check "Cult tw" if otherwise). Paris goes undercover in a cult to save his friends. This does not have consequences whatsoever (obviously, warning for cults.)

#The Unraveling arc - Post Team Fauna- Something strange is going on with Paris' reality... It seems to be falling apart! Unraveling, even! (Warnings for horror, body horror, and unreality)

#Greyed Walls Event - The aftermath of Unraveling. Our Paris is missing, and a curious foxlike entity has gotten involved... (Askblog-style event- this is an AU of Paris, set in a post-apocalyptic world!) (Mild warning on top of the obvious apocalypse for horror and talks about injury + amputation!)

--

And finally, for music enjoyers- Here's his playlist! NOW ON YOUTUBE TOO BECAUSE FUCK SPOTIFY!

[trigunsbbygirl]

Meryl with a very tall S/O?

I really love how you write knives, and I hope to see more of your posts in the future! Keep doing what you love buddy!! ❤️

thank you so much!!<3 I had to tease Meryl a little sorry- "imagine being short" I say as if I'm taller than her by a lot LOL

•she's used to being surrounded by tall people so she isn't exactly intimidated by you when you first met. (unless you're either taller than Vash or just give off scary vibes)

•anyways, just because she's short doesn't mean she won't (lovingly) kick your ass if you tease her too much.

•if you call her shortie or anything of the likes, Meryl gets really huffy and tells you to either call her by her name or find a new (loving) nickname.

"anything for you my majestic mini queen," you say, rather amused.

Meryl smacks your chest before walking away yelling out, "you know what, that's Meryl Stryfe to you now!"

you can only laugh and chase after her to make up for your teasing.

•okay I'm done teasing her, I'm sorry I love her but I had to-

•Meryl loves wearing your clothes, especially hoodies. they engulf her and help her stay warm during the cold nights! it's a plus that they smell like you too.

•if you aren't there for whatever reason or busy when she gets cold, Meryl will tuck her legs into the shirt or hoodie she's wearing. it's a really cute sight and you have plenty of photos of her like that.

•whenever you maneuvere yourself to the block the sun from her eyes and Meryl feels her heart beat just a little faster when you do that. it's not something she's ever asked you to do and her oh,, she loves and appreciates you so much.

•you are the only one! that is allowed to put your elbow on her head! you don't do it often though, but when you do she just huffs and wraps an arm around you.

•Wolfwood saw you do that once and saw how Meryl didn't do anything or really react so he decided to do it and tease her saying "how's it going down there, shortie?" he got a punch to the stomach(with no real anger dw) as Meryl ranted not to do that and to call her by her name. she knows he never will though, but Wolfwood did stop putting his elbow on her.

•Meryl uses you as a sheild if any bugs come her way. she'll grab onto your jacket and angle you around so she can't see the bug. or if you're scared of them too, you can pick her up and run towards the safety of behind Vash who will shoo the bug away. (Wolfwood the asshole, he'll grab the bug and chase you guys with it.)

•she will absolutely pull you down by the collar of your shirt (or tie) to kiss you sometimes. especially to shut you up.

•occasionally when you guys sleep, Meryl will cuddle up to your side, placing herself in the crook of your arm, or being the little spoon. she prefers sleeping back against back or holding hands, but it's nice to be in your arms ever now and then.

• Meryl actually adores being carried by you in the comfort of your hotel room or out in the dessert when the car has broken down.

•Meryl feels bad when you offer to carry her out in the desert, she may be thirsty and a bit tired, but she can still walk. although, if you do insist, she'll hop onto your back. she's fallen asleep a few times that way.

•or, she'll be focused on checking her list for a supply run the next day, or maybe just got out of the bathroom, having showered when you'll surprise her by picking up bridal style. Meryl will yelp, looking at you with wide eyes, your own soft smile and eyes staring back. you tell her that you hope one day you can carry her like this, but instead of in a hotel room, you hope it's when you're walking down the isle of a church after that special kiss.

•Meryl shut down for a minute, blushing hard as you laughed lightly at her reaction.

she can't help but imagine it too