meowstikii

[meowstikii]

ngl… i have to agree. love the dynamics between warner and james in this book, and i’m glad they developed a relationship, but lowkeyyyy james should’ve stayed with adam and just trained with warner and the rest of the gang. bc that situation is pretty solid.

however—i do think (maybe it’s a stretch), but maybe another reason for james going to live with warner after the events of believe me, and training with him after that, was bc james might’ve felt a sense of guilt for choosing a less peaceful life. like, maybe he didn’t want to constantly tangle his life choices with adam’s, since adam wanted to live peacefully and settle down after the shitshow he experienced. maybe living with the other brother—whose life thrives in those circumstances—felt like the better choice.

bc even in watch me (from the snippet provided), james seemed to get even worse under the calm circumstances of adam’s newly built life. like, for example, even when he logically knew that kids cry for no reason, he’d still get bent out of shape and lash out at his older brothers kids. and when adam witnessed that—saw his kid brother was just as messed up, despite everything he tried to do to protect him—the hope plastered on his face… it killed james. so in an act to give back to his brother, james wanted to give adam this idealized version of himself after all the grief he caused him (even though none of that was his fault, and he was just a kid…) made himself still a chipper, more well collected version of himself. made himself into something stronger in the hope that adam wouldn’t worry as much. bc unlike warner (not saying he’s soulless), adam takes things to heart. he’s an emotional guy, and he loves james more then anything in the world and that love is mutual.

not living with him.. not tainting more of his problems unto his older brother when he wanted to start fresh.. idk. this might’ve been something that went thru his mind when he decided to live with warner. who.. yeah might’ve not been the BEST choice but again. it’s a choice that james made himself sniff sniff //

hope that makes sense?

Hot take but Aaron wasn't a good parental figure to James and James should've stayed with Adam.

(By 'not a good parental figure' I mean that Aaron was not ready for the responsibility that came with raising James and his unhealed issues crop up quite a bit in the new book. If we're speaking for James' best interest he should've stayed with Adam but trained under Aaron, Julliette and Kenji because Adam was the only one who could handle raising a heavily traumatized kid)

And before anyone says anything yes it is heavily implied that James sees Aaron as a parental figure going as far as idolising him, wanting to prove his worth to him constantly even if it isn't explicitly stated in the text

[meowstikii]

i’ll never understand the shatter me fandoms obsession with AI generation content. Like AI generated “fan arts” of Aaron Warner are not REAL. they are not GOOD—they are ugly pieces of “work” that steal from ACTUAL ARTISTS.

like it’s incredibly disheartening to see how much love + promotion AI generated content gets in this fandom over actual artists hard work. and it sucks knowing, since we post our work publicly, our stuff gets fed into a soulless machine.

also it’s insane how ppl r reposting these arts when the new shatter me series ms. mafi is writing is centred around the harm of AI (aka Klaus) like ?????

[meowstikii]

Warner: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Kishimoto. Kenji: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

[meowstikii]

i have the funniest hc that kenji HATES watching movies with the anderson brothers. like these mfers are the most insufferable people to watch anything with.

like for starters (and this is canon) james is a yapper when they watch movies together. he always talks during the good bits and gets distracted SO easily so they have to rewind bc he got caught up whispering to whoever he’s next to. kenji is just tweeting “shhhh” every two seconds and james is like “oops my bad” AND THEN GOES BACK TO YAPPING LOLL

adam is mr. questionnaire. like every two seconds he’s like “why is he doing that??” and kenji’s like “idk man the movie JUST started” and then two seconds later—boom—another question. he’s just confused during random parts and kenji is LOSING IT bc the movie started five minutes ago. like OBVIOUSLY WE DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING YET THE MOVIE JUST FUCKING STARTED.

and warner… girll, warner is the one that makes kenji lose his damn mind the most bc warner is the type of guy who has never seen the movie before in his life but can guess EVERY plot twist and ending perfectly. like kenji is trying to culture this man with movies that blew his MIND growing up and FIVE SECONDS in warner’s already like “i think he’s the killer” and he’s RIGHT. kenji is spiraling. like “you fricking watched it didn’t you” and warner’s like “no i didn’t” and it’s a whole back-and-forth while juliette’s in the middle like “we can just watch something else!! it’s okay!!” but even then warner’s still guessing every major reveal like a little villian

so this is why kenji only rlly likes to watch movies with juliette bc she’s the only normal one 😭 BUT even then i feel like juliette LOVES horror movies and kenji… tolerates them. like he’s a romcom and action-adventure movie kind of guy to his core so he’s just hiding under blankets watching her horror picks while she’s giggling and living her best life HAHAHAHAHADHHD

[meowstikii]

so i storyboarded my favourite scene in watch me… expect this to be finished (fingers CROSSED). BUT YEAH ANYWAY—HERES SOME DRAWINGS OF THE STORYBOARDS !!!

they’re so cheesy

[meowstikii]

here’s some fanart of jude and juliette in their iconic dresses 🙏🙏

[meowstikii]

some of my shatter me/watch me fanart !!!!! guys i love love rosabelle so much

[meowstikii]

rosabelle wolff. do we see the vision here

[meowstikii]

The Problem

Pairing: Rosabelle Wolff/James Anderson

ao3 link

James Anderson had a problem.

He had a lot of problems—a lot of unresolved issues that he had, ever so conventionally, shoved into the archives of his mind, making false promises to revisit them later when the clutter felt more manageable.

This time— this problem—was different. It wasn’t something he could just hide away from when the issue became too much. This problem was alive. It was a living, breathing, blinking up at him with strange, pale eyes kind of dumpster fire.

Rosabelle.

Rosabelle was the problem.

She didn’t even have to say or do anything for James’s senses to come alive. He felt alert around her, like he could jump ship any second if she so much as tilted her head like she wasn’t absolutely demolishing him. The former assassin was killing him. And she wasn’t even aware of it.

Anything she did—whether she knew it or not—wrenched James. It tore him apart in ways that shouldn’t even be humanly possible. Hell, the attack on his better sense of self should’ve been considered murder. She was literally serially murdering him with every inhalation of her breath.

Rosabelle Wolff had caused the young man so much grief, without ever actually causing him any grief at all. James was all but counting the days until his heart would beat a little too fast, a little too loud, and then actually leap from his chest, do somersaults, and sprint down the hallway screaming—just because she had absently smiled at him on a random Tuesday.

This was pathetic. Warner had said as much whenever he had the misfortune of glimpsing James’s inner turmoil, nonconsensually absorbing the whirlwind of emotions stirred by even the faintest mention of her devilish name.

What was wrong with him?

James had never reacted this way to anyone before. He had enough experience with love—whether from secondhand accounts or the personal anecdotes of his own wayward love life—to know how to slap some sense into himself. Sure, he had never actually had a girlfriend, but he’d had enough simple flirtations, fun hookups, and walk-of-shame mornings to know better than to get pulled in too deep.

James knew better. Even if he had wanted a love like his eldest brother’s, he still knew to be careful and not get swept away by a pretty face. Giving away your heart only gives you a 50% chance of not losing your mind. Statistically speaking, that is.

Apparently, James didn’t know better—because despite everything, he was losing his mind, falling for the girl who had, at one point, tried to kill him and ship his body off for organ harvesting.

What a story to tell the grandkids! James thought.

A perfect meet-cute! He thought again.

“James?” said the object of his fascinations and restless, useless heart.

James blinked, slamming back into himself. “Y-yes—yes… ?”

Rosabelle pursed her lips, the action scrambling the last remaining brain cells still resting in James’s head.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice tight. “You’ve been spacing out for the last few minutes. I’m worried.”

Worried.

Could an ex-serial killer get worried over someone?

Was that even possible?

“I’m fine,” James lied as he threw on what he hoped was his most reassuring smile.

Rosabelle just stared at him, she always did, but this time with a level of intensity that James couldn’t quite read.

Then, after a millennium, she flicked her gaze away, eyes determined not to be trained on scanning every inch of him. To drink in every detail—every freckle—plastered and scattered all over his face.

Still turned away, her expression unreadable in the dim light, Rosabelle spoke softly. “I’d been thinking about what Winston brought up the other night.”

James’s jolted at that, a flicker of curiosity passing through his blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I think there’s a way to jailbreak some of the tech we brought back from the Ark,” Rosabelle mused. “I would just need to personally—“

“You know we can’t let you do that,” James sighed, hating himself for even saying it, but knowing that he had too. “Warner won’t let you mess with any of the tech we brought back. He’s just…” he paused. Grappled with his mind for an appropriate answer. “My brother just needs time to settle.”

Rosabelle's eyebrows furrowed, just by a fraction, but it was enough for James to know that this fact irritated her beyond belief.

“He needs time to settle with me ,” She breathed, voice clipped. “You can just observe me. Make sure I don’t mess with anything.”

James's mouth formed a fine line. There were many ways he could tackle this—many ways that might end with him 7ft under because he disobeyed a direct order from his brother, but…

James sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

Rosabelle blinked up at him.

“We will see, but this is between me and you only,” he continued. “Listen, I’ll watch as you do your thing, but you have to walk me through each and every step. Got it?”

Rosabelle stared up at him, which, at first, made him believe she might not respond, might not even agree, until she carefully nodded. And that was enough response.

James let out a breath, palpable relief loosening his shoulders. “Okay. Good. That’s—that’s good. Really good.”

“So you said,” she mumbled, and the silky sound of her voice almost made James lose balance.

“Yeah,” James managed to say, his voice tight. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, didn’t know how to stand. He just stood, still as a statue and as he prayed for death to come and release him from his continued embarrassment he made in front of Rosabelle on a daily basis.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the two stayed quiet for a moment. They quieted, silence always following most of their conversations, or is there by lack of. But it wasn’t always a horrible kind of silence. It was just silence. Pure and simple, and nothing more.

James’ eyes flicked toward the nearest window, noticing, for the first time, that it was dark out. Their shrouded, fog-infested sun leaves for the day without a single goodbye.

His throat bobbed. “It’s getting late.” He rubbed his hand against his neck, feeling awkward and displayed. “We should rest. Tomorrow is no doubt going to be pretty hectic.”

Rosabelle nodded again, and the loose strands of her white blonde hair scattered, each white hair landing perfectly on the sides of her face.

“Yes,” she murmured. “I should be getting back. Clara might worry if stay out any longer.”

Before James could think, though, when did he ever?—his idiotic body reacted faster. “I can walk you back.”

Rosabelle jolted, startled by the offer, and James wanted to eat his fist for saying the words out loud. It wasn’t even an outlandish notion—walking Rosabelle back to her quarters. James had to practically walk her to her room back at the rehabilitation centre and unhappily march her toward Supermax once upon a time.

But like everything involving Rosabelle, it felt weirdly complicated. Strangely intimate. And, most awfully, incredibly intense. It was too much—way too much—and by the continued look glued to Rosabelle's face, she must have felt the same.

Very suddenly, but not so suddenly at all, James wished he had the ability to go back in time, reverse the events of this conversation and jump out of the window sitting peacefully across from them.

This was all too juvenile.

“Sorry—“ James started, each word burning against the back of his throat. “You don’t have to—“

“Okay.”

“What?” James blinked in surprise.

“I’d like it if you walked me back,” She said, but her words came out almost nervously. Like she might startle out of her skin at any minute. “If that’s okay with you.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, a morbid tendency that he had randomly developed since meeting Rosabelle. It helps ground him. Settled himself and kept from doing anything that might keep him up past midnight from the mortification of it all.

“Alright,” James said, then he tilted his head toward the door, “shall we?”

***

To their credit, the two had managed to walk in a quiet kind of peace as they made their way down the street. It was a serene night. The dark sky was calm, untouched, undisturbed. Streetlights painted every crease, crack, and crevice of the sidewalk as the unlikely pair’s footsteps soundlessly echoed across its cemented path.

James craned his head toward the sky, hoping for a better glimpse. But despite Juliette and Warner’s relentless efforts to heal their polluted world, the stars still shied away. Above them, the sky remained a void of black darkness smearing itself across the light. James frowned a little at the sight.

He and Rosabelle belonged to a generation of misfits who had never known what the world was like before the Reestablishment took over—before it twisted every problem for its own benefit and made things worse.

Though, upon really thinking it through, James didn’t think Juliette and Warner's generation had even seen what the world was truly like before disasters struck. But still, at least they had an idea to work toward. To think and mourn for.

James was willing to bet his kidney that Rosabelle had never even seen a lake glisten with hues of blues before even knowing what a constellation was.

It’s a shame, really. It would’ve made the restful night more dreamy. Like something out of those old, romantic movies Kenji seems to like so much.

James inwardly recoiled, spooked by the impact of his traitorous thoughts.

Why would he want this simple stroll back to Rosabelle's quarters to be a page out of an old, cheesy, romantic movie? Was he insane? Had he completely and utterly lost his goddamn mind?

James dared a glance down at Rosabelle. He took in her figure, the relaxed nature of her stature as she walked gracefully beside him.

She seemed… at peace . Calm, even.

Maybe the dim street lights of the Waffle were messing with his head, but James could have sworn he saw the faint outline of a smile touching the ex-assassin's lips.

She looked happy.

Happy that she was here, right now, with him. The simple act of being beside him, taking the most average of walks toward a single destination, brought her something that can be considered a distant cousin of joy.

Maybe it was egoistical, even borderline arrogant, of James to even think that just walking with him had brought her ease, but she looked so content. Pleased.

There wasn’t a hint of that familiar detachment listed on her doll-like features.

And for a reason that James didn’t want to unpack, he felt a slight heat tug at the corners of his cheeks. Being this close to her was a bad idea , James shouted at the innermost corners of his horrible, pathetic thoughts.

Before James could know it, process it in the clutter of his mindscape, they had reached the final stretch of their destination. The porch of Rosabelle's temporary home. The small, wooded home sat as harmoniously as a small pile of wood can, at the end of the Waffles street corner. There was nothing remarkable about the home, but it was significantly better than Rosabelle, and, by extension, her little sister's living conditions that James had the misfortune of stumbling upon when he first entered the Ark.

To this day, James had no idea how the sisters had managed to live in those busted-up wooden cabins. The old, misplaced ‘homes’ looked like they could be torn apart by a single careless breeze. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The island—at least the one James had visited—was surrounded by cold. It was droopy, chilly, and the wind blustered relentlessly against his skin.

It was an unforgiving kind of cold, and just by looking at those broken cabins, James knew with absolute certainty that sleeping inside them was no different than diving into a frozen lake.

The endurance—the sheer strength—of these sisters, especially Rosabelle, to have survived ten whole years within its imprisonment made his head ache with a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite name.

Anger?

Sadness?

Both?

It was beyond James, and he cursed himself for getting so caught up in the thoughts of it all. At the aspect that the pair of them had to live all by themselves in that glorified wooden cage. Rosabelle's resilience was remarkable, something to be studied for generations to come. But to think that they rotted in there, spent nights shivering half to death and praying that a meal would come from the systematic starvation of it—

Full stop.

He can’t go there—couldn’t go there. Not again, and certainly not now.

James stood at the threshold of Rosabelle's porch. His boots didn’t dare take a stop on the concrete for fear he might do or say something even more stupid and make a clown of himself. So he just halted, lingered at the edge as he glanced up at Rosabelle.

At some point, she had taken a step toward her porch, levelling herself on it as she took another short step toward her door.

She didn’t look back at James.

And James hasn’t expected her to, either.

He didn’t even expect Rosabelle to say goodbye. To tell him to have a good night, and that she’ll see him tomorrow.

This was their norm: wordless goodbyes.

Weirdly, James didn’t mind it. The young man had liked it better when she did this, and it helped him come back to himself. It gave him a break from the chaos she caused him on a daily basis.

James didn’t think this night was any different until Rosabelle paused at the door. She went rigid, mechanical as her hand gripped the doorknob.

Then, in a blur of a moment, Rosabelle turned around—no, the girl had practically whipped around, white blonde hair streaking through the air as she turned, its colouring a beam of light against the darkness.

James was flabbergasted. Dumbstruck beyond all reason as he wordlessly took in the uncharacteristic sight. His mouth opened to say something, anything, before Rosabelle caught him off guard and continued on without remorse.

“I wouldn’t do anything,” she said, voice stern. Stubborn.

At that, James straightened up. The motion sudden, as if her words had just shifted his entire perspective on everything ever.

“Excuse me?” That was all James could manage to mutter through tight lips.

“I wouldn’t do anything,” Rosabelle repeated, unwavered by James' puzzled expression. So, almost reluctantly, she added, “to the tech. I want to help. I wouldn’t. jeopardize that.”

Clarity slapped itself across James' face as the fog in his mind cleared and Rosabelle's sternness started to click.

“Oh,” James said. “Alright—“

"I’m not finished," she cut in, interrupting James again. "I’m the only one familiar with the Reestablishment's current technology. No one will be able to crack its systems except me. It would be a waste not to use my skill set and—"

Rosabelle paused, faltering for just a moment before the spark reignited in her eyes.

"I have no interest in risking myself or my sister for some petty revenge against people I barely care about. My goal is the same as yours—to take down Klaus. So, I want to help. That’s all that matters to me."

James sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "I know, Rosabelle. You don’t have to tell me that."

"But I do," she countered, her face tense. "I do have to tell you that. I thought you said we could trust each other."

Despite having said the words herself, colour flooded Rosabelle’s face. Her cheeks pinked, and James wanted to die on the spot—partially because of her reaction, but also because of her words. The way they struck him in the chest felt worse than taking a barrage of bullets. It stung, and he wished there were a physical wound he could tear open—anything to rid himself of the true war raging inside him.

James took a breath, the act a meditation to steady himself against the tide.

“We can trust each other, Rosabelle.”

Rosabelle's expression pinched. “Well, do you trust me?”

James stared at her, his mouth parted, but no words came out. His mouth felt dry.

Mentally however, he already knew the answer.

His mind blared it, it had essentially blazed across his mind at a horrifying pace.

Because he did.

He did trust her.

“James,” Rosabelle said, her voice distant, as if she called to him through a brick wall.

“Yes,” James said. His voice was filled with a confidence he had not felt in what seemed like forever. “I do—I trust you.”

Rosabelle paused, drinking in each of his words like they were poetry just meant for her. Then, as if a piece of heaven had fallen to Earth and landed gently at her feet, she smiled. Wide. Her lips stretched from ear to ear, slow and radiant, lighting up her entire face with an effortless kind of beauty. However, it wasn’t just the curve of her heart-shaped mouth that dazzled—it was the way her eyes softened, how her expression bloomed with something too breathtaking to name.

She looked so stunning in that moment, so unfairly, heart-stoppingly lovely, that James thought the act of it should’ve genuinely been outlawed—declared a danger to his last remaining threads of his sanity and every rational thought he had left.

She was going to be the death of him.

As if in slow motion, Rosabelle turned toward the door, and James stood still, boots glued to the ground like a fool as he watched her. He kept his gaze trained on her as she slowly opened the door, speaking inside before turning slightly toward him for one final time, her glow still plastered on her face.

“Goodnight,” She whispered, her voice a faint melody against his ear.

Then, without another word, she stepped inside and softly closed the door with a gentle click, leaving James still rooted in place, heart full, already aching stupidly for the promise of tomorrow.

James stood there for a moment longer, staring at the spot where she’d been, as if he had hoped to hold onto the warmth she left behind. The night air cooled around him, but something inside him burned; it burned brighter than any star ever.

With a quiet, bittersweet smile, the young man finally found the courage to turn away.

Yes, James Anderson had a problem.

He had fallen in love.

[meowstikii]

hiii this is my first tumblr post but i just wanted to say: i wrote a fanfic based on the popular au of ‘what if the events of shatter me was just a dream and juliette had never left the asylum.’

the fanfic is titled “Reimagine Me” (which lowkey i’m proud of the name bc… “REestblishment” LOLL

there’s currently 10 chapters out rn <33