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lipstick-and-libraries · 4 months ago

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Echoes of the Heart PT. 3

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: A planned gala, Kitty's plans, managing your writing, and between all of that, the lingering feeling between you and Minho

𓋜 Notes: Thank you for waiting so patiently!! I have a lot going on rn but still want to give you your well deserved chapter, this might feel like a lot of progress in one, but I need the foundation for whats about to come ;)

Hope you have fun <3

Taglist <33: @finnbbl @literallysza @knivesdoingcartwheels @teaandbacon @dragonwitchy @alexandralibbre @formula1mount @strayk1ds143 @uhsophiesblog @iweirdthingsblog @random-human02 @elizabethgracie @verycoolmiyah @navs-bhat

The news broke over the school announcements during lunch. Students at KISS paused mid-bite as Headmaster Lim’s voice echoed through the speakers.

“Attention students: This year’s highly anticipated Creative Showcase will be held next Friday evening, sponsored by none other than world-renowned entertainment executive Mr. Kim Minho. Students are encouraged to participate in this event to share their talents and creativity. We look forward to seeing the incredible work our student body has to offer.”

Kitty perked up immediately, clapping her hands together. “Oh, this is perfect!” she exclaimed, looking at (Y/N), who sat across from her in the cafeteria.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “Perfect for what?”

“For you! You should totally sign up and read one of your poems or stories,” Kitty said.

“I don’t know…” (Y/N) said, hesitating. “Sharing my writing in front of a bunch of people sounds terrifying.”

“Oh, come on,” Kitty pressed. “It’s an amazing opportunity! Plus, you’ve been writing non-stop lately. This could be your moment!”

As Kitty continued to gush, Minho appeared, sliding into the seat beside (Y/N) with his usual air of nonchalance. “What’s she dragging you into now?”

“The showcase,” Kitty said before (Y/N) could reply. “She’s going to read one of her pieces.”

She thinks for a minute, looking Minho up and down before grinning

“What about you?” Kitty asked, turning her attention to Minho. “You should play something on the piano. You do still play, right?”

Minho stiffened, his usual smug expression faltering for a moment. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?” (Y/N) asked, genuinely curious.

“Because,” Minho said, leaning back in his chair, “it’s not my thing anymore.”

Kitty scoffed. “Your thing? Please. You were amazing at the gala last year. Everyone knows it.”

Minho rolled his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not signing up. End of discussion.”

Later that evening, back in his dorm with Q and Dae, Minho couldn’t get the conversation out of his head.

“You’ve been quiet,” Q said, glancing up from his desk. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Minho said, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

Dae smirked. “Let me guess—something to do with (Y/N)?”

Minho shot him a glare. “No.”

Q snickered. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Minho sighed, tossing his phone onto the bed. “Fine. She’s signing up for that stupid showcase, and Kitty’s trying to drag me into it too.”

“And you’re not interested because…?” Q prompted.

“Because it’s pointless,” Minho said. “I don’t need to show off to a bunch of random people.”

“Or maybe,” Dae said, grinning, “you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Minho snapped.

“Then prove it,” Q said.

The next day, Minho found himself lingering outside Kitty and (Y/N)’s dorm. He didn’t know why he was there, but when (Y/N) opened the door and raised an eyebrow at him, he panicked.

“Hey,” he said quickly. “You got a minute?”

(Y/N) stepped aside to let him in. “What’s up?”

Minho hesitated, glancing around the room. Kitty was nowhere in sight. “I heard you’re signing up for the showcase,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said, her tone cautious. “Why?”

“I was thinking,” Minho said, struggling to keep his voice casual, “if you’re doing it, maybe I could…you know, help you out.”

(Y/N) stared at him, clearly suspicious. “Help me how?”

“Like, give you feedback or something,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty good at knowing what works.”

“You want to critique my writing?” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms.

“No,” Minho said quickly. “I just thought—” He broke off, unsure how to explain himself.

(Y/N) tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t,” Minho said, a little too fast. “I just…thought it might be cool to work together.”

Something in his tone made (Y/N) pause. She softened slightly. “Okay,” she said. “But only if you sign up too.”

Minho blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” (Y/N) said, smirking now. “If you want to ‘help,’ you have to perform something too. Deal?”

Minho hesitated, his pride warring with the strange pull he felt toward her. Finally, he sighed. “I'll think about it, but it's not very likely”

The next week passed in a whirlwind of preparation. Minho spent his evenings practicing piano in secret, while (Y/N) worked on editing her piece. They met up occasionally to exchange updates, though their interactions were often filled with teasing and tension.

One evening, after a particularly long session, Minho walked (Y/N) back to her dorm. The rain had started again, a soft drizzle that clung to the air.

“Why did you really sign up?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho glanced at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t want to do it at first, said you wouldnt, and then still decided to do it even though you didnt have to” she said. “What changed?”

Minho hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “I guess…you did.”

(Y/N) stopped walking, turning to face him. “What?”

“I mean, I saw how passionate you were about it,” Minho said quickly, avoiding her gaze. “It made me think…maybe it’s worth a shot.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The rain continued to fall, soft and steady.

“You’re full of surprises, Minho,” (Y/N) said finally, her voice quiet but sincere.

“So are you,” he replied, meeting her eyes.

They both subconsiously leaned in, not completely, but close enough so they could feel the others stuttering breath on their face

(Y/N) wanting to glance up to take in the situation as a whole, even though she was afraid, looked up, to find Minho already beating her to it

The intensity of his gaze made (Y/N)’s breath catch. She looked away, her heart pounding, and started walking again. Minho followed, the moment lingering between them like an unspoken promise.

Back in his dorm that night, Minho opened his phone to the anonymous blog. He typed a new post, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Is it possible to be drawn to someone because they make you feel something you’ve never felt before? To see them, and suddenly feel like you want to be more?”

He stared at the words for a long moment before hitting send.

And someone, somewhere, would stumble across it the next morning—and wonder who had written it.

Part 4

#x reader #xo kitty #xo kitty dae #xo kitty minho #xo kitty minho x reader #xo kitty q #xo kitty season 2 #xo kitty yuri

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queenofsaltinesss · 1 month ago

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Expect the unexpected pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Summary: part two of Expect the unexpected

Warning: none that stand out. mentions of Bucky's repressed emotions

A/N: part one of this actually got some attention which made me so excited i wrote a part two. Thank you to @sebastianstan0813 for actually asking for this. It made my night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky hadn't expected to feel like this ever again.

For 70 years Bucky had not felt anything at all, hints of confusion, frustration and anger maybe. But not this. Not once.

Therapy had opened up for a lot of emotions.

At first he had been ordered to show up 4 times a week, it was intensive and painfully awkward but they wanted to make sure he was James Buchanan Barnes and not the soldier.

He had dutifully answered each of their questions, with a measured distance to whatever feelings came up with the recounts of various actions.

As the weeks rolled by, they allowed him to see his passive aggressive therapist less each week. Now he is down to twice a week, but he still has these little tasks on the days he dont see her.

His therapist wants Bucky, a 108 year old man, to keep a diary.

Its a journal. She told him.

Bucky had rolled his eyes at that, journal or diary, he was not writing his emotions down in a little book.

It was a plain notebook, the kind you can get from the supermarket with about 100 pages, and a generic pen. They were tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand.

He hadn't used it a single time, only cracked the pages open to stare at the light blue lines and then smacked it together and tossed it in the drawer.

He talked to Steve a lot, and Sam a little bit.

Steve was adamant on getting his best friend back, and Bucky wasn´t going to reject him on that, so they spent a lot of nights together.

Steve would show Bucky the new restaurants he had discovered around town, they would listen to music in Steve´s apartment, and they talked.

Steve didn´t live in the compound so it was nice to get out for a bit, it made it a little easier for Bucky to try and put words to his emotions. Key word here is try.

Bucky hadn´t actually existed in the world for decades upon decades. His brain consistently felt fuzzy, like he had woken up from an afternoon nap and it was suddenly dark outside.

Voicing his thoughts and feelings were confusing, he hadn´t even acknowledged these things for so long that trying to find meaning in them felt like doing a puzzle with the picture side facing the table.

It was exhausting.

But Steve was patient, and Bucky had missed him greatly. Not consciously so of course, but deep down.

Steve had been there when they finally let Bucky move into the compound, until then he had actually lived in some form of cell. It should have upset him more, but Bucky was patient in a way other people would never achieve in a single lifetime.

And Steve had brought, a little friend.

And Bucky's heart had suddenly presented him with a new emotion he had no clue how to place.

He had shook your hand and you had reached for the flesh one. You had smiled, and it had been genuine. It had reached your eyes and pulled the delicate lines around them.

You had kept your eyes on him, but he hadn't felt like you were doing it to control him. For the first time in a long time, someone else's eyes on him wasn't weighing him down.

He had seen you a few times throughout that day, had heard your voice when you asked Steve if they needed help moving him in.

Bucky barely had any personal items, he had the backpack he carried in Romania, an old leather wallet with some cash and very little clothes.

But Sam and Steve had helped him, showed him around the compound. Steve decided to stay and they ordered some pizza for the team.

Bucky had eaten pizza twice before. The amount of flavors that everything had nowadays could be overwhelming but most of the time it was interesting.

The new but small experiences helped him feel more comfortable in this world. They were a safe way to explore and evolve without too much changing.

It was nice, to sit outside on the balcony with the others. They didn´t make him talk, or ask him too many questions. They just allowed him to sit comfortably and observe.

He had caught brief glances of you as you went through the kitchen and back out.

He continued to watch you like that, stolen glances and silent observations when he got the chance to.

You were extremely well liked, it was hard not to notice how people reacted to your company. You easily charmed those you talked to, making them smile like it was second nature.

It was two weeks before the two of you actually interacted. He had spent the last week of the two trying to figure out what to say to you.

He wasn't sure what he wanted out of it. But something about you made him feel safe, your energy was one of a kind.

He hadn't expected for your first interaction to be so soon. But you had arrived back from a mission a day earlier than he thought and suddenly he was alone with you in the kitchen.

You had your back to him and didn´t look like you were going to turn around anytime soon so he allowed himself a moment to look at you.

You were usually dressed in work clothes, tactical gear and the deepest shades of black. Now you were dressed in your pyjamas, and Bucky felt that same flutter again.

You were in these oversized pj pants with little cat heads, Hello Kitty actually, but Bucky wouldn´t know. You had paired the pink pants with a soft cream colored sweater. The neck of your sweater was stretched large and rested on only one of your shoulders, revealing your soft skin.

God why was he staring at your shoulder. What was this? the 1800s?

Despite it being the middle of the night, it looked like you were still working. You had a case file between your hands, flipping through the pages and making little notes with your pink pen. Of course you had a pink pen.

You were waiting for your ice cream to melt a little more and he was surprised to see it was vegan. The concepts of purposefully keeping select items out of your diet seemed so odd to him.

Before he and Steve had been recruited, people had eaten whatever they could get their hands on.

The ice cream container was orange and had little items of chocolate on it.

He tore his eyes away from you, the way your frame was leaned over the counter, the way the subtle muscle moved in your back.

He looked through the fridge, he kept forgetting to go grocery shopping. The shops were all overstimulating, bright lights and music an so many colors.

He picked out a large tub of greek yogurt. Yogurt he knows, yogurt he likes. Theres no post it on it and he knows it means its free for all. He knows the system.

But he sees his opportunity to say something to you and he takes it without hesitating.

He looks at you again for a second, the back of your neck was exposed now that your hair was pulled up in a clip.

“do you know whose this is? its not labeled” he´s surprised at how leveled his voice is.

You turn around, and it takes effort not to gulp as your eyes land on his.

You shrug, and the neckline of your sweater drops further to reveal the smooth skin of your collarbone, Bucky's eyes drop and he prays to god you dont see it.

“i guess if its not labeled its free for all” you tell him, confirming his own conclusion.

He doesn't even think twice to continue the conversation, “you sure? dont want Sam to complain about it for the next week or two”. And you laugh. You actually laughed at something that he had said and his heart swells even further, threatening to melt out of his body.

“well if he didn't label it then too bad”

Bucky looks back at the fridge, needing a break from staring into your eyes.

“besides, i wont tell anyone”

You smile in a way that swells more than his heart and adjust yourself against the counter.

“thanks”

“yeah, no problem”

You move to finish making your bowl of ice cream and his heart almost stops when you graze him to put the ice cream back in the freezer.

He´s lost in though for the rest of the week, replaying the moment over and over again. And then you leave for another mission with Wanda. And he doesn´t see you for another 10 days.

That´s when he pulls out the journal.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #sebastian stan

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star-crifice · 1 year ago

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James Diamond x Reader

Words: ~ 3.1k

A/N: My 10 year old self must've taken over me and ghostwritten this bc why the hell am I, a 19 year old, writing BTR fanfiction AND it's the best stuff I've written in months. God. Have fun. I'm so done over here.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

James has got a thing for you.

And that’s not a secret, not even to you. When he likes someone, he pursues them �� that’s nothing new. The very moment you stepped into the Palmwoods, retrieving your key and James just so happened to walk into the lobby, the word “Dibs!” left his lips so fast, his friends didn’t even have a chance to lay eyes on you.

He wasn’t afraid to show you his interest, just like he was with every other person that appealed to him. But the difference with you was that every sweet word from him was laced with the tiniest bit of hesitation.

Just after a few days of getting to know you, the sheer thought of being rejected by you would have ruined him. One part of him wanted to share every sweet thought about you that ever crossed his mind, another part of him was – possibly for the first time – genuinely scared of your reaction.

His advances at you didn’t go unnoticed. At first, you felt flattered at such a good looking, charming guy flirting with you. Though it did feel a bit overwhelming, you barely knew him after all. You thought if he actually liked you like that, he would wait a bit. He’d be ready to get to know you more. But that wasn’t quite the case, at least how it appeared to you.

You got to know the boys of Big Time Rush along with the friends they made in the Palmwoods and spent a lot of time with them. However, James would always try to get close to you – it felt suffocating. You didn’t have the heart to reject him and tried to instead gently push him away, both literally and metaphorically.

James didn’t quite get it, thinking you aren’t into him yet and he would have to try harder. But after a while it felt simply pointless to him and he stopped. He went back to his usual self, flirting with any pretty girl willing to pay attention to him. It was obvious that he did this to distract himself from you, but if anyone would have asked him he’d insist that he’s over you – what a lie. At that point he was head over heels.

Desperation coated his aimless flirts, reaching for the attention he craved from you.

At this point James and you were good friends, having known each other for a bit longer. You finally felt like you knew him and he might know you.

It happened quite overnight – no, actually. Faster than that. He was only a friend, you swear. But that one friday night… A power outage. A few people from the Palmwoods sat outside beside the pool, surrounding a campfire. That and the countless candles being the only sources of light shimmering on your skin. A guitar went around, person after person sharing their musical talent waiting for the electricity to come back. Of course, it didn’t take long until it was James and his friends' turn. You were swaying back and forth, humming along with the tune of their song and basking in the heat of the fire. It was a very cozy moment and for the first time since arriving at the Palmwoods, you felt like you were surrounded by normal teens instead of aspiring stars. You’ve never felt closer to your friends, neighbors and even the people you’ve never talked to. You dared to look over at the boys singing, just a moment. But that very second you laid your eyes on James, something clicked in your mind. You’ve seen him countless times, always looking perfect, keeping himself in check. Though in that moment, the way he sat there – his hair disheveled from being in the pool, wearing his still slightly wet swimming trunks and a loose shirt, singing and swaying and having fun – something sparked in you.

And suddenly you missed when he shifted to sit just a bit closer to you, kept eye contact like his life depended on it and would put his hand on your shoulder, so tender and carefully as if he could scare you away. You took it for granted back then. That was quite literally how you got to know him and now that part is basically gone.

That “moment” you looked at him happened to turn into a full on stare. Not too obvious of course, but embarrassing enough that when his gaze caught yours, you turned your head faster than you even processed what just happened.

You’d like to slap yourself for the train of thought that just occupied your mind. Yes, James was nice and lovely and good looking and charming and whatever – but to you he also seemed like he never took it seriously.

To you, he tried to wrap you around his finger until he realized that you aren’t that easy to swoon.

To you, it seemed like he got bored of you and flirted with the next girl, until he got bored of her and flirted with the next. Again and again.

To you he was just a heartthrob, simple as that.

To him, you were an unattainable star he could only wish for.

Therefore, only a friendship blossomed between the two of you.

A while has passed since that night of realization and to be honest, you kept struggling to look at James the same. He shined a bit brighter in your life and that made you mad. There was no way you could ever have something serious with him, you told yourself. Just yesterday you saw him in the park with his arm around a pretty black haired girl.

Though the truth is, her eyes reminded James of yours. And he ghosted her by the end of the day because her laughter sounded off beat and sour compared to yours. He kept asking himself if you laugh at other peoples jokes like you do at his – if you ever gifted that smile, that one special smile he only saw a couple of times, to anyone but him. He hoped you didn’t.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

James, Carlos, Logan and Kendall were at the studio, recording a song like so often. As usual they were having fun, making jokes, pissing off Gustavo until James fell silent.

“Everything alright?” Logan asked after he took note of James' sudden change in behavior.

“My mother will come this evening,” he says rather quietly, shocked at himself for forgetting this.

“That’s good though, isn’t it? As long as she doesn’t want to take you back to Minnesota.” Kendall shrugs.

Of course that’s good. James is glad that he might build a normal mother-son relationship despite the long distance, now that his mother agreed to come visit him more often. However, there is one tiny little issue…

“I told her I have a girlfriend,” James admits.

“But you don’t..?” Carlos raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time you’ve had an actual girlfriend?”

“THATS-” James says loudly before cutting himself off, “Don’t say it like that.”

He takes a deep breath, thinking about how to handle this situation. A while ago his mother called, in true motherly fashion she obviously had to know about her son's love life. He might have been too prideful, and amidst his pride a bit delusional; he didn’t want to admit that for the first time in a while, he was hopelessly in love with someone. So he lied.

Of course he had a girlfriend. She’s lovely and special, not like any of the girls he brought home that his mother never approved of.

The band wasted no time, finishing work in record speed, rushing out of the studio so fast, not even Gustavo's angry shouts reached them. They were going to find a “girlfriend” for James for this evening, no matter what it takes.

They reached the Palmwoods, scanning the lobby like they were on a hunt.

“Any preferences or just anyone? Look at that blonde over there, she’s pretty!” Carlos pointed across the room.

“Oh no she knows me,” James shook his head.

“We need someone we can trust to play along and lie. And she has to lie well, you know James’ mom.” Logan thought out loud.

Just in the right moment, you came out of the elevator, walking across the lobby.

“Her!” Kendall, Logan and Carlos shouted in unison. You stopped in your tracks, hesitantly pointing to yourself with a questioning expression, “Me?”

James stared at you with wide eyes. Of course you’d be the perfect fit. You know him, join his shenanigans regularly, aren’t too bad at lying and surely wouldn’t get your hopes up like others might. Though his heart aches a bit at the thought. He doesn’t admit it to himself, but he still likes you just a bit too much for his liking. Maybe he’d be the one to falsely get his hopes up after acting out a relationship for a whole evening. Going back to friends after his mother leaves might hurt a little too much. Is he ready to take that risk?

“We need you to be James' girlfriend!” Kendall said loudly, rushing over to you along with Carlos and Logan.

“What? Huh?” You’re surprised to say the least. Was that a confession? A joke? The boys explained the situation to you – a bit fast and all over the place, but good enough. By the end of it, James finally walked over to the four of you, his expression being a mix of embarrassment, panic and hope.

“Could you do that? Pleeeease? For us?” Kendall said, joined by Carlos: “We’ll make it up to you, pinky promise!”, as Logan nodded profusely.

“I guess, yeah. We can do that.” You nodded slowly, looking over at James. The tension in his shoulders was gone, he could breathe for a moment.

Together, you went up into the band’s apartment, being greeted by Kendall’s mom. She already started the dinner and immediately you joined her and helped prepare the meal and table. With now 5 more people by Ms. Knights side, it took significantly less time to get everything ready.

“James, can you pass me the plates?” You asked the boy, he looked at you for a moment, appearing like a deer in headlights, before bringing you the stack of plates. You smiled at him, nodding as a thanks and put the plates down around the table.

The both of you haven’t been this close in a while and on top of that, didn’t feel this awkward around each other in a while. About half an hour until James' mother arrives at the Palmwoods, the food was simmering on the stove and the table looked like straight out of a five star restaurant, adorned with flowers and folded napkins.

You joined James on the sofa, letting yourself fall against the soft cushions in hopes of it releasing the tension building up inside of you. In just 28 minutes you’d have to act like the girlfriend of the boy you’ve had a very complicated almost-crush on (that you had yet to admit to yourself).

“You’re stupid, you know that?”, you said with a slight laugh in your voice. James turned to you, slouched back into the sofa with his arms crossed. Up until then, he looked serious and deep in thought. Now he’s raising an eyebrow and fighting a smile.

“For lying to my mom?”

“For lying to your mom,” you said, slowly subconsciously mimicking his pose. You looked at him a bit longer, trying to figure out what he thought at the moment.

“It’s gonna work out, yeah? I’ll try my best. I’ll be so all over you, your mom would think we're about to get married or something,” you tried to joke to lighten the mood, slightly nudging his knee with yours. A long sigh escaped his lips and finally, a smile appeared.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So you’re the lucky girl?” Ms. Diamond says in an unreadable voice. James just picked her up at the entrance of the Palmwoods, guiding her up into the apartment where everyone else was waiting patiently. She walked through the door, radiating willpower, sternness and a bit of sass.

Now she’s standing in front of you, reaching out her hand for you to shake and looking you up and down, before glancing towards James, raising her eyebrows so quick you almost didn’t see it. You follow her gaze over to her son, widening your eyes a bit, hoping he gets the message that you're ‘struggling over here!!!!’

He quickly comes over, resting his hand on your back. You see his mother noticing the gesture and lean a bit into James' touch, just as the cherry on top.

The both of you guide Ms. Diamond over to the table and you rush to help Ms. Knight with the pots and pans, bringing them over to the table. As everything’s ready and you want to sit down, James quickly gets up from his seat beside you and pulls out the chair for you in true gentleman's fashion. He gestures to you to sit and you do as he says, before he pushes your chair to the table.

Accidentally, as he sits down, his knee touches yours, but he doesn’t pull away. Neither do you. You keep telling yourself it’s just for show.

Everyone starts chatting – especially the two mothers of the table that desperately need to catch up – and filling their plates up. You do as everyone else, though quietly. You’re so unbelievably focused on James (obviously for the sake of the lie) that you’re not sure what to say.

“So,” Ms. Diamond says, her voice effortlessly louder than the others, “How did you two sweethearts meet?”James and you look at each other. Shit. You didn’t plan anything like that.

“Uhm..” You start, stalling a bit to figure out a good story.

“Right here, at the Palmwood,” James says confidently after a moment, “She walked in and I saw her and I said ‘wow!’”

“Actually, he said ‘DIBS!’,” Carlos says with a full mouth, earning a light punch from Katie.

“I got to know the boys and he didn’t move from my side,” you add to James’ retelling.

“It just kind of happened. We became friends and slowly… more,” he looks at you and you have to fight to keep a smile on while hearing his corny words. You nod, looking at your food to not let the mask slip.

James' mother asks you more and more and you feel like you can’t put an end to it. Every now and then James would get a bit closer, say something sweet to you or simply wink. You felt like when you arrived at the Palmwoods. But you let it happen, for the sake of fooling his mother. And maybe you enjoyed it a bit. Just a tiny little bit.

But the thought that all this is just fake and quite literally the result of the fact he doesn’t take relationships seriously, makes you want to push him away again.

Gently just like the way he slowly grabs your hand right now.

Tenderly like the way he lets his thumb glide up and down over the ridges of your knuckles.

You want to push him away, just not too far. So he’ll be gone for now but might come back later.

Maybe you just want to push him to lay your hands on him just once, but there are better ways to do that, aren't there?

So you let it happen, basking in his adoration for once. Enjoying it a bit too much for your liking.

After about an hour of dinner and chit-chat, Ms. Diamond excuses herself and her son to go on a little mother-son-walk through the park. You bid goodbye to her, reciprocating her firm handshake as a good last impression.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You finish washing the dishes before James comes back from the walk. Neverending questions about what his mother thinks of you plague your mind, but you're not sure why. The show is over after all.

Finally back in your own apartment, you pace back and forth, replaying the events of today again and again in your head. It’s already a bit dark out when you almost overhear someone knocking on the door from how filled your mind is. You rush over, not even looking through the peephole before opening the door.

Of course, James is there. Alone and calm, no smile or even flirtatious smirk adorning his face.

“Hi,” you say, curious about what he wants.

“Hey.” He lays his hand on the door, pushing slightly, letting himself in. It’s dark in your apartment, aside from a small warm lamp on a table beside the couch, illuminating the both of you just enough, casting an orange glow on his face like that night at the campfire.

Oh and how you wish that feeling in your stomach – just like that night at the campfire – would leave.

You take a few steps back, standing awkwardly in your living room, letting him come in.

“How did it go? The walk with you mom,” you ask quietly. He nods, collecting his words and looking into the lamp.

“Good. She liked it. She liked you, I think.”

“What did she say?” you ask, now even more curious. She liked you.

“You seem like a sweet person. She’s used to other types of girls from me. She thinks you’d be good for me.” He laughs a bit at the end.

You fidget with your hands, not sure what to say. Usually he’s more cheery and talkative, finding topics for conversations, even if he just wants to talk about himself.

“So… friends, right?”, you say, even more quietly.

A smile forms on his lips, barely visible, “I don’t know. Do you like me? Because I like you.”

“I know you do. You like a lot of people though, so what’s it worth?”

His smile drops.

“If you’re not going to give me a chance, then at least a kiss to get over you?”

He steps closer, you stay put.

“You’re just trying to swoon me,” you say, trying to be stern but hearing that sentence out of your own mouth makes you smile a bit. He comes closer again and you want to step back, but looking at him makes you remember all the times he made your heart flutter. You think of all the times you looked at him and thought to yourself, if he kissed you now, you’d be his. You feel his warmth now, he leans in.

And you let it happen. And you kiss back. Gently. Tenderly. Slow.

One kiss, he said. But not how long it will last.

Eventually, you pull back, looking down.

“Are you over me now?” you ask, not sure what answer you’re hoping for.

“Are you kidding?” he laughs.

“So… this is serious, then?” you ask hesitantly.

He nods.

#fanfiction #Fanfic #big time rush #james diamond #James diamond x reader #BTR #big time rush x reader

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cantmakeyouloveme · 1 month ago

Text

Random rant about fandoms that nobody asked me for but I feel like writing about: I think some people should just use YouTube and Pinterest.

I think at this point we've all heard the phrase "let's go back to when fandoms were for freaks" and while I miss that too, I think I like the phrase "let's go back to when people in fandoms knew what being in a fandom consisted" better because I can't think of any fandom on any social media that isn't plagued with people who are in fandoms but hate everything involved by them.

This has been going on for years now and it was progressive, but I sometimes find it unbearable to constantly read things like "it's not that deep", "why do people argue about this, we should just make/watch gifs and that's it", etc. Like obviously there are things I find "ridiculous" to discuss, but I find those things ridiculous outside of fandoms too not just in them (ex: most things related to physical appearance).

Fandoms are community, they are spaces created by and for people who share the same interest to interact, share and discuss ideas about that piece of media they have in common. Like any human community, there are going to be people who agree with an idea and people who don't, but that's true of any social interaction. It's not something that can be avoided, even in the fandoms of the "simplest" media you can think of.

The basis of fandoms is the interpretation and dissemination of ideas. If all you want to do is watch the series/film/interview/etc and look at gifs/fan art/edits/etc, you should consider just lurking on YouTube and Pinterest, because if what bothers you most about fandoms is interaction and discussion, then I don't think they're for you.

There's nothing wrong with fandoms not being for you, they are recreational spaces after all. A lot of people (like me) enjoy that interaction as a way to escape from everyday life for a while, even if that interaction involves discussion, but some people don't and that's fine! You're not less of a fan, or a worse fan of something/someone for not wanting to interact with their fandom. At the end of the day, we all want to escape our problems for a while, and if that discussion affects you or creates anxiety, your priority should be you and your peace, therefore you should consider stop interacting with them. I know it's hard sometimes because of emotional attachment, but if you suffer more than you enjoy a fandom, that's a problem. It's supposed to make you happy and clear your head, not create discomfort.

That annoyance that your fandom generates in you is reflected in your interactions. They show that you're genuinely not enjoying it, and that often causes other people to stop doing it. On social media there are many ways to filter, mute and block content, you don't like something? Ignore it, not difficult. You don't have to be interested in or have an opinion on every topic in fandom, it's not a requirement of them. You can choose which discussions to participate in and which not to.

Of course I roll my eyes too when I see Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande fans fighting over who has more stage presence on Twitter, but I don't need to get involved and let everyone know how idiotic I find that conversation. I don't pay attention to it, if they want to fight let them fight. Just because I say "hey, don't argue" isn't going to change anything. That's why we have to know when to pass by and ignore. If the conversation matters to me because of X or Y, I give my opinion, but if it really "doesn't interest me", why do I give it? The only thing I generate is bad feeling for myself, because my one opinion doesn't have the power to change everything. If you enjoy giving your opinion on anything and it doesn't cause you stress, do it! But if you are aware that it does, what's the point?

The media is there to analyse it, discuss it, re-interpret it, create more media based on it, etc. I don't accept that anti-intellectual bullshit "it's not that deep, the producer of this film/writer of this book didn't do X thing intentionally". If you don't want to read interpretations, don't voluntarily look for interpretations. Nothing and no one forces you to participate in a fandom. You can be forced to participate in many other social interactions, but not this one. If you don't like them, it's as simple as leaving.

"This fandom is extremely toxic" is it really that toxic on the level you're talking about, or do you just think that when everyone is discussing and exchanging ideas, everyone is fighting and suffering and this creates stress for you, even though they can be totally fine? Besides, I speak not only from my own experience but also from the experience of many friends, you can argue and seem to be negatively affected and in reality it is indifferent to you, not a problem. So even if the argument seems to "super affect" those who make it, it's not so in many cases. You who see it interpret that because that's what they communicate, but what they communicate is not necessarily what they feel.

The fandoms are drama because all media is dramatic. You're supposed to be here to scream about problems and situations that don't exist in your job/family/studies/etc. Every conversation is a "non-serious issue". You don't have to talk about "real issues" all the time, learn to have fun. If every time you see someone arguing about anything, you automatically just think that person is miserable and suffering because of fandoms, you are the one who is actually miserable and suffering because of fandoms, because if your first interpretation of any interaction is with such a negative outlook, you have the negative outlook.

No matter what your fandom is about, you are here to create your own world, your own adventure. Engage with fan art of that headcanon ship, read/write that rpf story, post your personal interpretation of that song you like that is probably not the original reason the artist wrote it, put together characters from various fandoms, do whatever you want. You have so many rules already in your day to day life, why do you want to put rules on your fun? What the fuck do you care how the others finds a way to not suffer so much from this horrible system we live in?

When I say "fuck the police" I mean the fun police too. Be gay, do crime <3

#fifi.pdf #fandom stuff

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chronicallyonline101 · 2 months ago

Note

Not sure if this is too personal to ask but what do you usually look for in a Melone fic? I remember you mentioning that you’re fussy or get icked by some. Me personally, i don’t like it when he’s reduced to just being horny or annoying

i read this and started trembling with an insufferable rage YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. I. HATE. WHEN PEOPLE. REDUCE MELONE TO THAT. ITS JUST... OOOOOUUUGHHHHHHHH AWOOO AWOOOOO

ITS UGH CUZ RIGHT SO Melone is a little bit of a freakazoid BUT THAT ISNT HIS DEFINING PERSONALITY TRAIT. In the series, Melone is calm, calculated, and confident; he is mostly silent, only speaks when he needs to, and shows an acute interest in cognitive function and development - he's a NERD. no better than Ghiaccio. he's made out to be this PERVERT because of people with ZERO media literacy who take one look at his stand and go "HE SEXUALLY ASSAULTS PEOPLE !!!! EWIE!!" SHUTTTTT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP STHUT TTUTTUPSPP SHUT IT. CLOSE. YOUR MOUTH. LISTEN TO ME:

Babyface creates a homunculus through NON-sexual means, IT WAS STATED IN THE MANGA ON ITS INFORMATION PAGE! the homunculus uses a human body to incubate, which is invasive since its a literal parasite BUT isn't any more uncomfortable than it showed in the anime AND YESSSS he asked Anita about the 'Kame Sultra' which he didn't NEEEDD to but imo i think he is just interested in the nature of human sexuality and intimacy, because a part of that is related to the way the brain develops and functions and that is WHAT HE IS INTERESTED IN NNNN HEEE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THOSE THINGS TO UNDERSTAND THE COMPATIBILITY OF JUNIORS PARENTS ANDNDNNDNNNDN HHHRRRR GGRR R SO SO SO WHEN PEOPLE WRITE ABOUT MELONE AND THEY WATER HIM DOWN TO JUST "haha horny melone he's a pervert lol!!!!" IT MAKES ME WANT TO CLAW MY OWN EYEBALLS OUT AND THROW UP ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND THROW MYSELF ONTO THE TRAINTRACKS OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW

so ... erm... im a bit fussy when it comes to Melone... i tend to try and find fics that DO NOT do all of the above that i just mentioned, i like fics where his personality is well defined and you can tell the author genuinely likes his character and isnt just including him because he's a member of la squadra !! :D yeah !! thats it !!

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orphicrose · 1 year ago

Text

The co-host (Alastor x FemReader) V

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz

_______________𖤐

It seemed like the broadcasts had ended their torment over the pentagram. Remaining completely silent for almost a week now. Y/n had noticed this too, thinking that maybe he was being genuine. They had kept their meetups public, for her safety and peace of mind. Mainly at coffee shops around her warehouse. They adventured a little further today, to cannibal town. Only agreeing because it was nearby to a place she had to meet her boss that day.

"So, your boss is quite a well known sin?" He asked, lifting his dark coffee to his lips and bowing the steam off the surface. She nodded, sipping at hers. "How did that come about?"

She shrugged in return "Guess I accidentally sold my soul" She said, sarcasm clawing at her tone. He hummed, unsatisfied with his answer. "Do you like your job?" He was grasping at straws now. The question tickled her, unable to contain her laughter.

"Do i come across as a particularly content individual?" She chuckled. Wiping an invisible tear from her eye. "I work against my will. If it was up to me I'd... I don't know, write. Or broadcast the news." He saw a light in her, like the light he saw all those years ago. She is still in there.

She looked down at her watch, gasping and standing abruptly. His ears twitched as the chair screeched backwards against the concrete., and looked at her waiting for an answer to the deviant behavior. "I was supposed to meet him at the abandoned office block in five minutes" She struggles to put her coat on, one of the arms of it being inside out. He watched her struggle, amused, leaning on his hands. "What you looking at?" she huffs.

"Need a little assistance?"

"I can put a coat on!" She bites back. He shrugs, clicking his fingers and dragging both of them into their shadows on the ground. Reappearing outside the abandoned building. "I could have done that" Y/n rolls her eyes, shoving the rest of her arm into the sleeve.

"I'm aware, but I want to see this oh so powerful being" He adjusted the tie atop his ironed suit. "How do I look?"

She turns to look at him, stress showing in the veins on their forehead. "You're not coming to a meeting with me. If you want me to trust you, leave. Please" Her face softened to a more desperate pleading expression. Making him submissive to her, and agreeing. "I will wait out here for you, darling" He smiled, receiving a smile back as she begins moving towards the door with nothing more to say.

Satan enjoyed quieter areas, giving him more space to think. Less people to deal with was an ideal world for him. He went to seat himself on an old chair, before it gave out. Nearly ending with him on the floor. Glad no one was there to see that, he dusted himself off and resorted to leaning on his staff instead. The door creaked open before him, dust circulating the room like air flow.

"You're on time. Interesting..." His voice rumbled through the room, stirring old dirt, making the ceiling drop old paint onto the floor. She shut the door behind her, not moving an inch towards him. "Your numbers dropped for a while. I see they are being picked back up. You may have just saved your soul"

"What soul" She mumbled under her breath "What?" "Nothing!"

He stood up straight, adjusting his posture, and striding towards the demon. "Don't let it happen again" His presence hovered above her, eyes scared to be taken off his. "I can't replace you as easily as every other soul, but that doesn't mean that i won't" A hand fell to her chin, his calloused fingers pulling at her face to move closer to him.

Just outside the room stood Alastor. Listening in, It might be important, he thought.

"Don't let me down, or I'll remind you of all the reasons of why you wiped your own memory" His lips spoke next to her ear, finishing his sentence with a hollow laugh. "I will be back in a month" and with that, his body melted away to the bone until there was nothing left. He had left her in the discomfort of her own skin, alone, almost fragile. She felt as if she could follow him into the ground and flow away forever. But that wasn't the case. Whatever she had forgotten was obviously bad, since she erased her own memory. So the last thing she wanted was to be haunted by them all over again.

Alastor, on the other side of the wall, struggled to maintain a smile. Wide eyes like he had been stabbed in the back multiple times. She erased her own memory? Of him? Perhaps she found out what he was and couldn't bare the thought of seeing him again. His heart ached.

"Alastor" A startled voice came from the door frame "I thought you said you'd stay outside" Y/n sounded almost angry, too exhausted to portray any emotion other than fatigue. He stared at her blanky, still showing a face of hurt. His smile wanting to drop, but looking at if there was rope physically holding it up.

"I'm... sorry" He mumbled, static dropping from his voice completely. "I will see you some other time."

He vanished. Leaving her, once again, alone. Truly alone this time. "Alastor?" Y/n questioned. Genuinely calling out for him. What did he hear that upset him that much. He looked hurt. She never thought she'd see that emotion in his eyes before.

Days passed, no site of him. She had seen him everyday for weeks now. A few days, she even stayed out late in sketchy alley ways. Hoping he might show to scare her. She missed him, but she wouldn't admit it. She even thought she saw him in the corner of her eye on countless occasions. Some part of her was screaming to trust him, and the overlord in her was telling her to keep a look out.

He will show up eventually, she thought, he's just busy with cannibal stuff.

In a glaring radio tower on the other side of the pentagram, Alastor stared at the rotting city below him. Feet kicked up on the sound board in front of him, a coffee in his hands, pondering. He convinced himself that he should stay away, but he missed y/n oh so much. It was difficult. He had sent his shadow to watch over her, make sure no one was giving her any grief.

"So, is this your murder chamber?" That familiar voice came from behind him, sounding very concerned. He almost spun off his chair, whipping his head to see her.

"How did you find me?"

"I wish i could say it was my amazing detective skills, but i had help" She shrugged, looking at the moving shadow that was connected at his feet once more, giving his owner a sheepish grin. Alastor tutted, shaking his head. "I wanted to know why you ran away? I haven't seen you in days"

He bit his tongue, struggling to think of the right thing to say.

"My apologies, Miss l/n" He started off. "I have very conflicted feelings, i suppose. I guess you could say that... I'm worried that who I was in life scared off someone very dear to me." He tried to laugh, but it turned into more of a whimper of distress.

She stood awkwardly with hands behind their back for a second, but as he spoke, y/n found themselves moving closer to him. Looking at him with sad eyes. "Did something I say-"

"I just had a moment, darling, I'm fine." He cut her off, exaggerating his smile to sway her questions. He turned in his seat, facing the large window overlooking hell.

"If they truly loved you..." Y/n moved closer, standing just behind his seat. "I'm sure they could get over it. No one is perfect" her hand creeped onto his shoulder, sharing the same view with him.

"You think so?" His heart dropped for a second, as if she was confessing her love for him. He could only dream that was the case.

"I do"

"Thank you, Y/n"

#x reader #fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #The co-host #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #this was fun to write ngl #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel charlie

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literatureloverx · 10 months ago

Note

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

#bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor x you #yandere bsd #bsd

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stolenorchids · 7 months ago

Text

PSYCHIC MISHAPS AND SWEET MOMENTS

Kusuo Saiki x reader WARNINGS: reader is technically not specified as neither male for female, tooth rotting fluff, Saiki using his abilities to save you from an embarassing moment - I think that's all lol AN: just wanted to say that there's not enough Saiki K fanfictions on here (or in general), so do feel free to send me an ask about the show - or any other show lol, I'll be happy to write something that doesn't fully come from my own thoughts:)

Saiki Kusuo never wanted to stand out. For as long as he could remember, he had tried his best to live a normal life—no small feat when you’re a psychic with powers that could bend reality. From mind reading to teleportation, he had long grown used to his strange abilities. But one thing he hadn’t quite figured out?

Dating.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t do it, or that he didn’t know how—he was psychic after all, he knew what people liked. But he wasn’t used to letting anyone close. That’s where you came in.

You had known about Saiki’s powers for a while now. Unlike the others, who couldn’t quite grasp the full extent of his abilities, you had seen through his attempts at acting normal and had accepted him, powers and all. And somehow, against all odds, he had started to care about you. Which is why you were both currently standing in front of a café, Saiki staring at the door with his usual deadpan expression while you smiled at him, trying to break the awkward tension.

"Saiki, you don’t have to look so stressed. It’s just coffee."

"I’m not stressed," he replied flatly, hands stuffed into his pockets. But you knew him well enough by now to understand that the tiniest shift in his demeanor—like the way he hadn't said anything telepathically yet—meant he was overthinking things.

"Are you reading my mind?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you opened the door to the café.

"Of course not," he said, but the quick flicker in his eyes made it clear that he had.

"You could just ask me what I’m thinking, you know?" you teased, stepping inside. "It’s not like you need psychic powers for that."

Saiki sighed, giving a slight roll of his eyes. This wasn’t exactly his idea of a relaxing afternoon, but then again, things always seemed to get more complicated when you were involved. But not in a bad way. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

As you both found a small table by the window, Saiki sat down, resting his chin in his hand, gazing outside like he had zero interest in the conversation—typical. But beneath the surface, he was already calculating all the possible ways this could go wrong. There was the chance that Nendou could show up out of nowhere, or worse, Teruhashi might walk by, sparkly as ever, and cause a scene. He could also accidentally teleport away if things got too uncomfortable.

"Don’t worry," you said suddenly, pulling him back to reality. "This is a Teruhashi-free zone. She wouldn’t be caught dead at a small café like this."

He blinked, genuinely surprised that you had guessed his exact thought. Maybe he was rubbing off on you after all.

The two of you ordered your drinks, and for a moment, everything seemed…normal. The sun was shining through the window, casting a warm glow over the café, and you were sitting across from him, stirring your drink absentmindedly as you chatted about your day. Saiki couldn’t help but feel a little…content.

Until your spoon slipped and knocked your glass, spilling your drink all over the table. It was a tiny accident, the kind that happens all the time, but before you could even react, the entire scene rewound itself. Your hand was back on the spoon, your drink still perfectly intact, as if nothing had ever happened.

You looked up at Saiki, who was staring intently out the window again, trying to look innocent.

"Did you just rewind time?" you asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.

"No," Saiki muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

"Sure, you didn’t," you said, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Thanks for saving me from the embarrassment, though."

He finally turned to face you, his lips twitching slightly in what might have been an attempt at a smile, but of course, it was gone in a second. For someone who was so eager to keep things normal, he really did go out of his way to make sure you were comfortable.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, switching to telepathy this time, his voice echoing in your mind with a hint of nervousness.

"I’m just happy," you replied, leaning forward slightly. "I know you don’t like things being unpredictable, but you always manage to make things better without even trying."

Saiki didn’t reply for a moment, unsure how to respond to that. His life had always been about avoiding attention, about blending in. Yet, here he was, dating someone who knew exactly how abnormal he was and still stuck around. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.

"I guess it’s not a complete disaster," he thought, careful to keep the thought from reaching you. But you caught a glimpse of it anyway, your smile widening.

You rested your hand on the table, close enough to his, and for a split second, you thought he might actually reach out and take it. Instead, he simply looked at you with that unreadable expression of his and said, "Let’s just finish our drinks before something weird happens."

You laughed, nodding in agreement. It was a typical Saiki thing to say, and yet, beneath all of his reluctance, you knew he cared about you more than he let on.

And that was more than enough.

#saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki kusou no psi nan #kusuo saiki #tdlosk #x reader

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shewhotellsstories · 11 months ago

Note

People say Eloise is a self centered white feminist who enjoys the privileges that come with being a Bridgerton and although that's true, she is also a sheltered teenage girl who needs to learn about the world.

Her feelings of marriage are valid and while she needs to learn that desiring motherhood and marriage doesn't make a woman lesser, it's part of growing up and learning true feminism. She's a baby feminist but viewers don't want her to grow. How many teenage girls in today's day and age are all-knowing about feminism theory? Her friendship with Theo taught her about the working class and that connection to the outside world could have been a great learning experience for Eloise. Yes she has the privilege of being a Bridgerton but that safety net is exactly why she should be allowed to advocate for things the way she wanted Whistledown to(not a critique of the character but rather the writing and the fandom)

Penelope did some selfish things as Whistledown, abusing her power (cause it wasn't just about being gossip girl for the bag) and rather than acknowledge that we're expected to sweep it under the rug. I LOVE flawed characters because the writing acknowledges their wrong doings and yet certain characters get away with murder.

Eg s1 Blair was awful to Serena and while she had her reasons for doing so, revenge and her own self worth and abandonment issues, the show acknowledged this and we wanted good things for Blair. Serena slept with her best friend's boyfriend and covered up a mans overdose but we still root for her because she is a good person and is trying to grow.

If Penelope doesn't acknowledge her wrongdoings how can she grow as a character.

"Okay publishing a burn book is wrong but I love writing and I'm good at it, maybe I should become Jane Austin or something."

(throwing in how Edwina was raked over the coals for being angry with Kate and while the half sister comment was uncalled for, she wasnt given the same grace Penelope has been given)

I'm sorry for how long and all over the place this is.

No, I get it. The issue is that some characters are given grace while others are crucified. Some characters have their circumstances considered when examining their behavior while others don't. I hate it that some characters get novellas dedicated to defending their bad behavior while others should've just known better.

And that's totally the way I see Eloise Bridgerton. She's a baby feminist! She is in her just watched Ironed Jawed Angels and has maybe read a few zines era of feminism. When I was 17, I remember saying in class that I didn't think it was possible to be a SAHM and be happy and now my opinions have radically shifted because I'm not a kid anymore. Now, if you'd ask me I'd say it's a vulnerable position to be in economically because your security is tied up in your marriage working out and or your husband never dying, but it's your choice ultimately. What a difference a fully developed brain and college professors who require you to read bell hooks and Audre Lorde can make.

But seriously, the sad irony of Eloise being raked over the coals for "doing nothing" is that she was trying to become more informed and it blew up in her face. Spending time with Theo and other members of the working class was really good for her. Sadly, Penelope should've known better than most that she was genuinely trying to expand her worldview, but Eloise is the only person getting the bad friend allegations.

And yeah, as much as I love Kate and Anthony, people were way too hard on Edwina in season two. No one wanted to hurt her, but who in her position would toss confetti?

Plus, I'm really glad someone else is seeing the endless Gossip Girl comparisons that can be made here!

P.S. If you're interested one of my favorite Kanthony fics ends in Anthony and Kate encouraging Eloise to become a fiction/social commentary writer.

#asked and answered #eloise bridgerton #anti penelope featherington #theo sharpe #edwina sharma #bridgerton

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 20 days ago

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Omg you’ve watched season 6 of ML? I wanted to ask what you thought of the new models and animation style but refrained cause I remember folk badgering you about stuff and spoiling it, I’ve not actually sat down to watch any of it just seen innumerable spoilers but if you have opinions on how the stories going (couple new characters, Chrysalis, Julerose suddenly being confirmed or anything) then I’d be interested in them!!

I REALLY LIKE THE NEW STYLE! The reason they changed it ultimately is because the old programs they used to animate the show ten years ago just blatantly doesn't exist anymore and I think that the ability to just- hit the hard reset on everything was the best thing that happened to ML

Got them to reorganize all their shit, be able to reinstate themselves into this new decade with a tangibly easy way to change everything from looks, to episode writing, and so on- and I think it shows!

I adore the new background characters outside the class, I enjoy that Paris now has a solarpunk aesthetic giving the show its own visual style and not just "its paris i guess", I love the akumatization sequences, I love that we have functional b-plots now-

It's fantastic.

They're actually attempting to make messages with it's plots, Ivan's story made my heart squeeze and the most recent one with Nathaniel is fantastic and I hope it inspires queer kids a lot. Like- LIKE- That's wild to say! I want kids to watch this season! This is a goddamn kid show- the fact that 'i want kids to watch this' is a surprising thing to say for Miraculous shows how bad it was in my opinion!

I always felt like their messages were kinda, dogwash in the original seasons, had the veneer of good messaging but,, ehh,,?? You get what I mean? Like- what kid saw Chloe be abused and then still be hated when she acted out and said; oh okay i should never give chances to hurt people yknow?

Gahhh Im rambling

My point is, this new era of Miraculous seems very- very good- and it makes me happy to see a media that- I literally got into to hate watch during quarantine, had me meet lots of amazing people, and improved my art and writing to a degree I'd never be anywhere without today- doing genuinely good- I just-

Wow man! Im happy!

#sneak a cat

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milkoomi · 5 months ago

Text

₊˚⊹ ᰔ how i romanticize my life ᝰ.ᐟ

living life isn’t easy. this shit is HARD. just simply trying to get through a single day can be so draining, but it’s so important to give yourself a reason to keep moving forward in your life. one reason could be living for your own sake; living so that you, yourself, can feel happy and at peace. live for you. live and love for you.

disclaimer: my life isn’t perfect lmfao. i genuinely feel like my life is just at the point where it feels like it’s finally about to really start. i’m still in school, i work, and i quite honestly enjoy my days off by simply doing nothing. but there are some aspects of my life that i choose to romanticize, even if it’s something really small and simple. my life can be boring and lack luster sometimes, but i still try to make things even the slightest bit more interesting if i can (and if i even have the energy) !!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ creating a morning & night routine

most of my day consists of me attending class, studying, or clocking into work. luckily, i’m on winter break so i have a bit more free time, but since i work i still have most of my days consumed by my job. which makes it even more important to me that i create some kind of morning and night routine!!

having a routine (even if it’s only in the morning & evening) allows me to prepare myself mentally for the day or helps me unwind and relax after the day!

MORNINGS

up @ 7:30am - 8:00am, get out of bed immediately, morning stretches, drink a glass of water, make myself breakfast & coffee/tea, watch a few episodes of my fav show, skincare/morning hygiene routine/get dressed, and finally prepare my bag with all my essentials

EVENINGS

change out of work uniform/clothes i wore outside & put on house clothes (i have house clothes and sleeping clothes), eat dinner @ 5:30pm - 6:00pm (7:00pm - 7:30pm if it’s a late day), shower (i do an everything shower at least once a week, typically on fridays since that’s the end of my work week), dental hygiene, skincare & haircare, unwind in my bedroom (gaming or watching a show/youtube), and finally - about an hour before i sleep - i journal whether it’s finding a prompt to write about or just reflecting on how my day went! i’m usually heading to sleep around 9:30pm - 10:00pm!

ᝰ.ᐟ practicing self care

whether it’s doing my skincare, taking an everything shower, journaling, or simply saying affirmations to myself in the mirror, it’s really important for me to practice some kind of self care throughout my day!

everyone always talks about the importance of self care, and i’m just going to reiterate just how important it really is!

taking care of yourself, no matter how big or small the action is, is one of the major keys to finding happiness and peace within yourself and your life. i found that neglecting my own needs or myself in general just made me more miserable and made handling my own mental health a real struggle. i know that having mental health issues makes even just getting out bed the most difficult thing, but if you truly want to romanticize your life or just even feel an ounce better about yourself and your life you have to put in the work for yourself. it’s definitely easier said than done, but i promise that starting small will make the biggest difference ㅤ♡

side note: if you find yourself struggling, please reach out to your loved ones/your support system. i promise there are people who are more than willing to lend you a helping hand and be there for you when you really need someone. asking for help is always 1000% okay!

self care examples

skincare / haircare

playing your favorite video game(s)

drinking water

making a little snack or meal for yourself

watching a comfort show/movie

disconnecting from social media for a day (or however long you want to!)

talking with a friend/loved one (either through facetime or physically hanging out with them!)

journaling (if you need to let some emotions out, write it down!! or simply just writing about how your day is going or a big accomplishment you made or whatever!)

cleaning your room

going for a walk, going to the gym, doing some yoga (get yourself moving!)

breathing exercises / meditation

find a self care routine or self care tasks that work for you and make you feel good!!

ㅤᝰ.ᐟ taking myself out on dates

while i’m happily engaged to the love of my life, sometimes i need some alone time to just be with myself and enjoy time with myself, and that’s okay! i will say though, i do struggle with social anxiety and a few years ago it was really severe and it had gotten to a point where i couldn’t even run simple errands without the company of a loved one. but!! encouraging myself (and honestly almost forcing myself) to go places by myself helped me a lot.

solo dates have been so freeing for me! i personally get myself all done up and ready as if i were going on an actual date with my partner, and it makes my solo date experience 10x better! it helps me feel more confident when i go out and go on my little adventure and, for some reason i honestly can’t really explain, makes me feel more accomplished once my solo date is over!

solo date ideas

go to a café! maybe bring a book to read or something to journal with! i have an ipad so i’ll bring that with me because i can journal on there, watch a show, play some games, or (if i’m actively in school) i can study and write my notes!

movie theatre! i personally have not done this yet, but i have friends who have gone to the movies by themselves and they really enjoyed it!! &, if you get lucky, you could have a whole theatre to yourself!!

go to the mall! i LOVE taking myself on a solo mall date! i brought my headphones with me and i went to all of my favorite stores to browse around (or even treat myself to something if my paycheck hit hehe)! there’s also not a lot of local boba shops near me, but at the mall i go to there’s two boba places so i’ll also treat myself to a little drink!

go for a nature walk! if the weather permits it, walking outside and just enjoying nature can be so peaceful! i’m lucky to live in an area where there are lots of forest preserves that have great trails to walk through! of course, be safe when you head out for a nature walk & be sure to plan accordingly!

run errands! idk if people would really consider this a “solo date”, but running errands by yourself is such a fun experience! and, if you’re like me, it really helps to make you feel like your own individual! just grabbing any essentials you might need or even getting groceries by yourself can make you feel so productive!

take yourself out for breakfast, brunch, lunch, or dinner! treating yourself to a nice meal can be so rewarding! you can get yourself all nice and dressed up and just enjoy a delicious meal!

ᝰ.ᐟ self photoshoots

if i ever need a confidence boost, i’ll put makeup on, put together a super cute outfit, and start taking pictures of myself! just getting myself ready and capturing how good i look just makes me feel so much better about myself. seeing my own beauty and taking those aesthetic photos of myself makes me feel so so good!

now, i don’t use a fancy, professional camera, i literally just use my phone and i don’t have any fancy lighting other than a small ring light and a sunset lamp but i’ll still get myself set up to take some good pics!

ᝰ.ᐟ signature scent

i have always loved and adored perfume, but recently i’ve been trying to curate and perfect my signature scent. having a signature scent just adds a little something to you and your aura! i was finally able to land my signature scent (at least for the winter season) and every single day i’m getting compliments on how i smell and it’s genuinely one of my favorite things ever!

play around with perfumes and scents! find something that makes you feel beautiful and confident!

if you wanna know my signature scent…

Lattafa Now Rave Women perfume (yes, i got it off of tiktok shop), Victoria’s Secret Tease perfume, EOS Vanilla Cashmere lotion, & Vaseline Cocoa Radiant body oil

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

these are just a few things i do (or try to do) to romanticize my life! and, just to reiterate, live for yourself! live and love how you want to! life isn’t perfect, and it doesn’t have to be, but if you want to add a little spice, fun, or flavor to your day or week or month, live how you want to live!

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

#milkoomis #romantizing life #romanticize life #self love #self care #romanticize #girlblogger #it girl #that girl #journaling #self care blog

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philtstone · 8 months ago

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24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son.

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge.

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line.

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy.

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says.

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely.

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling.

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch.

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment,

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?”

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says.

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –”

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door.

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out.

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch.

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead.

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be.

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?”

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely.

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy.

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager.

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!”

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical.

“No!”

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!”

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration.

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine.

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door.

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither.

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago.

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault.

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely.

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard.

#my writing #psych #psych usa #psych 2006 #shawn spencer #karen vick #henry spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #situations prompt meme #not sure if i want to put this on ao3 yet we'll see #if it gets zero traction on here ... maybe lol

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casscainmainly · 6 months ago

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I know your not really much of a Jason Todd fan but I kinda wanna hear your opinion on this. Is the Bruce Wayne Brainwshing Jason Todd still canon? If so so you think it’s out of character for Bruce to do this.

Also how do you feel about Bruce’s characterization in modern comics in general actually?

Honestly it’s one of the reasons I’m kinda hesitant to read the comics, because while I’m super interested in all the lore- both Batman himself and his family (especially Cassandra she sounds awesome I love characters that show unwavering, intense dedication to compassion)I DONT want to read comics where Bruce is like, a completely awful paranoid asshole with none ofhis redeemable qualities (I got interested in Batman via clips of the JLU/BTAS)And according to a lot of Batman fans his characterization in this respect has been on a downward spiral for years now.

Like I’m not even a “god dad Bruce Wayne” person, I think his actions regarding Stephane Brown make a lot of sense for him actually and play into the effect that Jason Todd’s death has on him well and kinda wanna read me about that outside of fanfiction.

PS.Sorry if this ask is long and kinda random, I know this is mostly a Cassandra Cain blog.

Interesting question!! I'm not an expert on Bruce or Jason, so I'll answer to the best of my knowledge. I'm assuming Bruce brainwashing Jason is a reference to Gotham War, when he injects fear toxin into Jason's brain to make him afraid anytime he experiences adrenaline. I haven't read this so I can't comment too much, but this breakdown is useful if you want context for what led Bruce to this moment; it did happen in an in-continuity comic, so yes, it is (unfortunately) canon.

Some things to note for the context of Gotham War is that Bruce is grappling with Zur-En-Arrh, a sort of second personality. While this doesn't make it good writing, Bruce is not 100% in-character when he injects Jason. Whether or not that absolves him of wrongdoing is questionable, but it's a little unfair to Bruce as a character, and even to Chip Zdarsky as a writer, to think the thing with Jason was meant to be an in-character moment. So while I do think injecting Jason is out of character, that's kind of the point of the arc.

That's not to say the run is well-written. I can't judge myself, but many people dislike this run for numerous reasons. But this is just one of Bruce's modern runs - there are many more amazing Bruce comics out there. Ram V's Detective Comics and Scott Snyder's Absolute Batman are two fantastic takes on Bruce (though the latter is an alternate universe and ongoing, it's so far extremely entertaining!).

There will always be better and worse times for a character's characterisation, and you will encounter some horrible stuff in canon, but you'll find some life-changing stories too. You sound like you genuinely want to delve into comics, so please do! Don't let the risk of reading something bad stop you - there is so much good in here, stories that will make you laugh and cry and stick in your mind forever.

Since you're specifically looking for dad Bruce Wayne stuff, here are some recommendations!

Batgirl (2000): a very nuanced portrayal of Bruce as a dad to Cass. Definitely not a Good Dad Bruce at all, but he genuinely loves her and tries his hardest. 5/10 on the Good Dad Bruce scale.

Tynion's Detective Comics (2016): very good starter comic in general for the Batfam, and Bruce has numerous sweet moments with Tim and Cass (Steph too, if you count her as a kid). 8/10 on the Good Dad Bruce scale.

Robin & Batman (2021): not 100% sure if this is in continuity, but it's 3 issues and a lovely depiction of early Dick and Bruce. Features very realistic mishaps on Bruce's part, but sets up the foundation for a strong, beautiful relationship. 6.5/10 on the Good Dad Bruce scale. (This is also getting a sequel featuring Jason!)

World's Finest: Batman/Superman (2022-): an ongoing series that is pure comic book fun. Robin!Dick features heavily here, and there's some wonderful Batdad moments. 8.5/10 on the Good Dad Bruce scale.

Tom Taylor's Nightwing: probably the best dad Bruce in modern comics, and has very sweet moments with Dick throughout. One big caveat is the characterisation can be off, so I recommend this only in the context of Bruce being a good dad to Dick. 10/10 on the Good Dad Bruce scale.

You also can't go wrong with either Batman and Robin (2011) or (2023), which focus on Damian and Bruce (haven't read either but 2023 in particular seems to have good dad Bruce). Batman & The Signal and Batman & The Outsiders (2019) have great Duke-Bruce moments, while Bruce Wayne: The Road Home: Batgirl is the best Steph-Bruce stuff we'll ever get that isn't wildly out of character. Batman and Robin: Year One is currently coming out for more Robin!Dick and Bruce relationship cuteness and drama.

I hope that answered your ask! I am mostly a Cass blog but I do love to talk about other characters so no need to apologise :)).

#bruce wayne #jason todd #batfam #comic recs #ask #recommending tt's nw dick stans pls forgive me :(#half of these being dick and bruce... he really is the favourite #idk if there's any comic recs for jason and bruce specifically though they had a rough time #i love getting asks like these because YES more people to start being consumed by comics #like don't ever feel like u can't ask something because u don't read comics. we all started somewhere #i started with tom king's grayson so....... yea

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flanpucci · 1 year ago

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Hello and welcome to my TED talk today I have decided to write a wall of text about why portraying Dio and Pucci’s relationship as manipulation is actually taking a lot out of Pucci’s agency and character, and diminishing him. Disclaimer that this is not shipping discourse, this is media analysis. I don’t want to talk about whether it is moral or not that they get along, I don’t care, I only want to comment on the media.

So someone sent me a DM telling me that Dio was manipulating an emotionally distraught and vulnerable Pucci into following his plan, and that he exploited him to do all sorts of crimes (framing Jolyne, killing people, stealing discs) by presenting himself as a trustworthy, God-like figure, and called the Heaven plan ‘Heaven’ to get Pucci to follow it by exploiting his religious beliefs.

First of all Dio met Pucci before he was distraught about his sister's situation. After the situation occurred, it is Pucci who seeked him for answers as to why he was alive and not his sibling/s, like he seeked answers from God a few years before by becoming a priest student. Dio left a door open, nothing more. Of course Dio was seeking to be admired, he was also seeking companionship as he has always done ever since he was young, and someone to carry his plan. Pucci was looking for answers, for self-growth, for someone to push him towards the top, towards what he believes is the destiny that was designed for him (the reason he’s alive and not his twin).

Is it forbidden to look for something in someone? Does it make it not genuine? No, we all look for something in a friendship. And this seemed like a fair deal for both. One needs a trusted friend, an ally, but not a blind follower, and as we’ll see later, he needs someone to help him transcend his human? vampire? condition again. The other one needs a reason to live, a quest to fulfill, and hope that he could one day obtain the ‘happiness’ and ‘peace of mind’ that Dio wants so much too. He’s also someone who strives for greatness, who wants to ‘step outside human boundaries’.

Not forgetting that Pucci is someone fueled by a profound curiosity and rationality, it is only natural that he’d side with someone who has the abilities and ambition Dio has. Framing Jolyne, killing people, stealing discs, it is all out of Pucci's agency, long after the death of Dio. He's actually the one who suggested he could store and use Survivor, and he’s the one who asked for it! Dio thought Survivor was useless, that it was only a weakness, and Pucci convinced him with the idea that it could be prove itself useful.

Pucci is shown to have ‘lost’ faith in Christianity very early on, maybe not really having true religious belief at all (as in, the actually believing there’s a God sense.) He got into priesthood for philosophical reasons (seeking answers to an existential question). He seems to be a very pragmatic christian with interests in science that contradicts some of the scripture’s theories.

I don't think calling the plan ‘Heaven’ was a bait based on Pucci's religious beliefs. Over Heaven isn't canon, but it shows Dio having a very Christian mother. He's an intelligent man, born in a very christian time and place, and thought ‘Heaven’ was the name of the kingdom promised to the legitimate ruler of the world, himself. If anything the first time they meet he makes it very clear they're not striving for anything Bible related but for realizing their full potential and finding happiness.

Dio saw very early on that Pucci was not a very faithful catholic, judging by the book he's reading when they meet in the ossuary, and then Pucci commiting crimes even before seeing Dio again (hiring someone to beat up his brother, leaving his brother as dead). He then commits blasphemy by calling him King of Kings and comparing his love to the one he has for God. Pucci does not think of Dio as the christian God, he loves him as he loves God, but he's not blind and misled. He refers to him with proximity terms all throughout the manga (even when he's young), never used honorifics like the henchmen do, calls him 'kimi' (casual/informal ‘you’), 'my close friend'.

Even Dio uses ‘kimi’ instead of the ‘omae’ that shows inferiority that he uses with Vanilla for example. In the way they talk to/about each other, they're protrayed as equals, which once again is very unusual for Dio. All throughout their scenes Dio is shown slightly seductive at first, then not as overtly seducing as he usually is, he’s talking about the plan, and strategy (even though he still maintains physical contact, I mean, it’s still Dio), and then seems to relax progressively by doing activities and chit-chatting, to the point of Dio becoming paranoid that his weakness is known. Yes, Dio was pretty nice and not as big an asshole as usual because he needed someone for the plan, but what did he need? A "friend that he can trust from the bottom of his heart" (信頼できる友), so he tried to make one by not being an asshole, and guess what? He did! And he got scared that he managed to do so, because it's freaking Dio lol. Dio’s life has only been him trying to show dominance, and facing rejection. Heck he was rejected and degraded even when he won that chess game against an adult in the first minutes of the show. But everyone wants friends for a reason! Be it not to be alone, to be loved, to have someone to talk to about certain topics... And we all make efforts and try to be nice to make friends. That's not manipulation that's called not being a dysfunctional piece of shit like Dio usually was shown to be before he met Pucci. Why was he different with Pucci? I'm bringing up the parallel with the Jonathan and Dio scene which really shows that Dio hasn't changed and is acting the way he always has, testing people, he just has never been met with trust and acceptance, only with rejection, unlike what Pucci has done from their first meeting and after :

Scene plays out very similarly at first, except that this time Dio hasn’t done anything wrong, but he was expecting to be betrayed and wasn’t, which led him to get paranoid and set up Pucci so that he’d attack him, which he didn’t. And what did Dio do? Apologize and give him a part of what's literally the most important thing he has, 'his' body.

The fact that Pucci kept his 'sentimentality' towards his friend (I quote), his obsessive affection for Dio, and hope in his plan for such a long time is easily understandable, he had everything to win from Dio's plan (which is very different from nothing to lose, he has quite a lot to lose!). He could be cleansed from his sin, or at least put everyone on his level, be granted the reward of unconditional love, he could grow to a close to godly status or be a messiah carrying god's will (be special, push the boundaries of being human), and maybe, just maybe revive his loved ones too. He could rewrite his destiny at best, and at worst, obtain peace of mind. If anything helping Dio might even have been an excuse for Pucci to lie to himself about his real intentions with this plan (unconsciously : finally accomplishing his destiny of being special over his sibling and basically everyone else, consciously : giving everyone the chance to prepare for tragedy + opening everyone's eyes to the fact that what he did, cause his sister's death, was not really his fault since it was written by fate all along.)

Now if you really have a high esteem of Dio's intelligence you can argue that he did it all on purpose, he gave out his weakness on purpose to mellow Pucci, he called the plan Heaven to cater to Pucci's faith, he talked him into doing crimes, pretended to feel equal/inferior so that Pucci would give him his trust... But 1) Dio's not that good at it, has too big trust issues himself and has other means for submitting people to his will (as seen with Kakyoin, Polnareff...), 2) it's literally written this has to be built on trust which in my opinion completely disqualifies a manipulation aspect to it. Of course there are many other sources that further the idea that they were really friends, I'm thinking about how their relationship is described in interviews or the Jojo Mag, but I wanted this post to focus on canon interpretation.

Thank you for reading my essay, I’m always happy to chat and comment on the dynamics between characters in the material. I am not willing to talk about morality or shipping discourse here so please refrain from sending me such comments.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #pucci #enrico pucci #dio #dio brando #stone ocean #analysis

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