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philtstone · 2 months ago

Note

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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buckevanley · 2 months ago

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Little headcanon of mine but I think Eddie is actually like. Secretly really good at poetry.

He’s already got a pen in his hand half of the time anyway, whether it’s updating the fridge calendar or writing Chris notes for his lunches or helping Hen study for med school, he finds himself just jotting down a couple of lines every now and again in the margins of things. Sometimes they’re quick little observations, other times just him playing around with syntax and sounds, even if he doesn’t know the terms for what he’s actually doing.

And maybe Hen notices while he’s helping her study that he’s just absentmindedly been writing these really brief, beautiful little poems on the corner of her neurology notes, and she’s kind of amazed by them. So maybe she and Karen get Eddie a copy of Audre Lorde’s Coal or Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems for his birthday or something just to subtly encourage him to keep going.

And of course the rest of the 118 are confused by the present but Eddie sheepishly admits that he writes sometimes, but it’s not like it’s real poetry, guys, it’s just a way to blow off steam, but of course everyone is so sweet and supportive of it it kind of takes him by surprise.

Chimney wants Eddie to start holding Jee at group gatherings more often so his “poetic juices” will rub off on her and she’ll become a creative genius, even though she’s literally not even two yet. Bobby gets him a notebook, just a simple, plain black thing that can fit into the palm of Eddie’s hand, just so he has something to jot things down in, even if Eddie doesn’t think it’s real poetry, Bobby still claps him on the back and tells him he’s proud of him. And Buck,

Buck doesn’t get it. He so badly wants to, but whenever he asks if he can read whatever Eddie’s writing (which, unbeknownst to him, Buck is the only one who Eddie lets read the stuff he’s working on), he doesn’t understand it. Or, he doesn’t feel like he’s smart enough to understand it on the deeper level that he should, which frustrates him a little because this is a part of Eddie that’s really important to him, and Buck wants to be able to say something intelligent about it, something that says he appreciates this profound thing that Eddie is offering him by letting him read his poems. But he can’t. Not just by reading them on his own.

So he asks, shyly offering the little black notebook back, “can you—can you read it to me?”

So Eddie does. After awkwardly clearing his throat a little and stumbling his way through the first few lines, he eventually finds his rhythm, and his voice grows steady, stronger as it finds the comfortable cadence, and Buck watches his whole posture change while he reads, and he’s never seen Eddie look so confident or at ease with himself, and he’s listening to the words as Eddie reads them and oh. Oh.

Buck gets it now.

#just a couple of thoughts for this morning #i think Eddie should be a poet it would be good for him brain and soul #also yeah i had to sneak in a little oh moment for buck how could i Not??#okay that is all #kylie talks #kylie writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #the 118 #911 abc #911 #911 buddie #hen wilson #bobby nash #chimney han

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dumbass-hyperfixations · 18 days ago

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not to be a lowkey cheating apologist, but they should totally go with the psych shawn spencer and juliet o’hara getting together storyline for setting up buck and eddie canon (especially that kiss in the ep before shawn and juliet get together)

let’s say that eddie gets the feelings realization arc, and just as he’s debating telling buck or no, tommy calls him up with a “i know it’s crazy and we haven’t been dating very long, but i think i wanna marry buck. i’m thinking of taking him on a weekend getaway and proposing, thoughts?” and eddie is so shocked that he can’t really do much but choke out an awkward “yeah man, that’s great. congrats”

so he decides he’ll keep his feelings his business and his business alone (and maybe cry on hen and karen’s shoulders about it). and then chris calls. he wants to come home. and he forgets all about the weekend getaway proposal plan, rushes to buck’s loft to tell him the good news. and finds buck packing. right. the getaway. the surprise proposal.

and buck asks, very cheerfully what’s up. and eddie decides to swallow the news about chris down, so buck wouldn’t cancel the getaway and come with him to el paso (because buck would and eddie wants him to, but damnit, buck deserves to be happy and he deserves the nice proposal tommy has planned). so he just says that he came to say goodbye. and has a speech, not unlike the one shawn had (if you haven’t watched psych, go at least watch that scene with their first kiss because it’s the shit), about how much fun buck is gonna have, and how happy, sincerely happy he is that he’s got tommy, and that he better take all the pictures of the nature and to do all the research on every bird and tree because he’ll be waiting to hear all about it when they get back. but, fuck, he lets too much of his true feelings show on his face, because he feels like he’s saying his forever goodbye to buck, and to the fact that he’ll never have him. and buck sees it, we see the slow realization dawning on his face the longer eddie speaks. and in the middle of eddie’s rambling, he surges forward and kisses him and it’s the most desperate, long time coming kiss we’ve ever seen—

and then we hear tommy enter through the door, calling out to buck. they immediately jump apart. try to steady their breathing, try to not look insane over what just happened.

tommy comes to the living room (or upstairs to the bedroom? somewhere where they’re not immediately in sight) and absolutely does not pick up on the heavy tension, smiling at them both, hugging buck and kisses his cheek, immediately jumping into small talk. eddie wishes them both the best of luck and a nice trip, and makes a auick getaway, avoiding buck’s sad pleading eyes. and then he goes get christopher. episode ends with them getting into their respective cars to drive to opposite directions, and we lose our collective minds lost at the cliffhanger.

#aaaaand that’s how you do a midseason finale #or. if they’re even more evil #that’s how you do a season 8 finale episode #and we’d have to wait an entire year for the rest of it #and lose our collective minds #buddie #911 buddie #911 speculation #buddie speculation #911 spec #buddie spec #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buck #911 buck #911 eddie

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xlovely-daydreamsx · 1 year ago

Text

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did.

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating.

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly.

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There��s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all.

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.”

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic.

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow,

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both.

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos.

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try?

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it.

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt.

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo.

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan.

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.”

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #reader insert #x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

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saberlight1 · 1 year ago

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— who i write for

disclaimer: most of my stories are fem!reader, but i will write gender neutral, just let me know. i write angst, fluff, and smut. i am a bisexual female, so i will write about both female and male characters. i am mostly comfortable with writing anything, so don’t be afraid to send in whatever you’d like. my inbox is always open for anything, you can write your thoughts on characters, shows or movies, or my works! much love!

masterlist

supernatural —

dean winchester

sam winchester

castiel

the hunger games —

peeta mellark

finnick odair

katniss everdeen

coriolanus snow

lucy gray baird

tigris snow

johanna mason

billy the kid —

billy bonney

jesse evans

harry potter —

remus lupin

sirius black

james potter

lily potter

bellatrix lestrange

blaise zabini

tom riddle

regulus black

yellowjackets —

lottie matthews

natalie scatorccio

taissa turner

shauna shipman

van palmer

travis martinez

jackie taylor

red dead redemption —

arthur morgan

sadie adler

john marston

charles smith

karen jones

star wars —

anakin skywalker

padme amidala skywalker

ahsoka tano

luke skywalker

leia organa skywalker

the last of us —

ellie williams

joel miller

tess servopoulos

dina phantasmagoria

jesse jeon

the walking dead —

maggie rhee

rick grimes

daryl dixon

shane walsh

michonne grimes

glenn rhee

rosita espinosa

negan smith

tara chambers

king ezekiel

sasha williams

magna

marvel —

wanda maximoff

pietro maximoff

natasha romanoff

yelena belova

bucky barnes

tony stark

scott lang

steve rogers

frank castle

bruce banner

ava ‘ghost’ starr

loki laufeyson

king valkyrie

sam wilson

marc spector

steven grant

layla abdallah el-faouly

matt murdock

miles morales

miguel o’hara

hobie brown

carol danvers

peter parker

gamora zen titan

peggy carter

king t’challa

game of thrones / house of the dragon —

daemon targaryen

rhaenyra targaryen

laena velaryon

jon snow

harwin strong

alicent hightower

sansa stark

helaena targaryen

criston cole

jacaerys velaryon

daenerys targaryen

euphoria —

rue bennett

jules vaughn

elliot hill

lexi howard

fezco o’neill

maddy perez

chris mckay

daisy jones and the six —

daisy jones

warren rhodes

graham dunne

eddie loving

camila dunne

karen sirko

outer banks —

jj maybank

john b routledge

kiara carrera

pope heyward

sarah cameron

cleo grant

shameless —

carl gallagher

fiona gallagher

lip gallagher

veronica fisher

kevin balls

svetlana yevgenivna

more to come!

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awardseason · 2 years ago

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2023 Critics’ Choice Awards — Film WINNERS

Best Picture “Avatar: The Way of Water” “Babylon” “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNER “The Fabelmans” “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” “RRR” “Tár” “Top Gun: Maverick” “Women Talking”

Best Actor Austin Butler – “Elvis” Tom Cruise – “Top Gun: Maverick” Colin Farrell – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Brendan Fraser – “The Whale” — WINNER Paul Mescal – “Aftersun” Bill Nighy – “Living”

Best Actress Cate Blanchett – “Tár” — WINNER Viola Davis – “The Woman King” Danielle Deadwyler – “Till” Margot Robbie – “Babylon” Michelle Williams – “The Fabelmans” Michelle Yeoh – “Everything Everywhere All at Once”

Best Supporting Actor Paul Dano – “The Fabelmans” Brendan Gleeson – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Judd Hirsch – “The Fabelmans” Barry Keoghan – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Ke Huy Quan – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNER Brian Tyree Henry – “Causeway”

Best Supporting Actress Angela Bassett – “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” — WINNER Jessie Buckley – “Women Talking” Kerry Condon – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Jamie Lee Curtis – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” Stephanie Hsu – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” Janelle Monáe – “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery”

Best Young Actor/Actress Frankie Corio – “Aftersun” Jalyn Hall – “Till” Gabriel LaBelle – “The Fabelmans” — WINNER Bella Ramsey – “Catherine Called Birdy” Banks Repeta – “Armageddon Time” Sadie Sink – “The Whale”

Best Acting Ensemble “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Fabelmans” “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” — WINNER “The Woman King” “Women Talking”

Best Director James Cameron – “Avatar: The Way of Water” Damien Chazelle – “Babylon” Todd Field – “Tár” Baz Luhrmann – “Elvis” Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNERS Martin McDonagh – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Sarah Polley – “Women Talking” Gina Prince-Bythewood – “The Woman King” S.S. Rajamouli – “RRR” Steven Spielberg – “The Fabelmans”

Best Comedy “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Bros” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” — WINNER “Triangle of Sadness” “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent”

Best Animated Feature “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” — WINNER “Marcel the Shell with Shoes On” “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” “Turning Red” “Wendell & Wild”

Best Foreign Language Film “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Argentina, 1985” “Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” “Close” “Decision to Leave” “RRR” — WINNER

Best Original Screenplay Charlotte Wells – “Aftersun” Martin McDonagh – “The Banshees of Inisherin” Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNER Steven Spielberg, Tony Kushner – “The Fabelmans” Todd Field – “Tár”

Best Adapted Screenplay Rian Johnson – “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” Kazuo Ishiguro – “Living” Rebecca Lenkiewicz – “She Said” Samuel D. Hunter – “The Whale” Sarah Polley – “Women Talking” — WINNER

Best Cinematography Russell Carpenter – “Avatar: The Way of Water” Linus Sandgren – “Babylon” Roger Deakins – “Empire of Light” Janusz Kaminski – “The Fabelmans” Florian Hoffmeister – “Tár” Claudio Miranda – “Top Gun: Maverick” — WINNER

Best Production Design Dylan Cole, Ben Procter, Vanessa Cole – “Avatar: The Way of Water” Florencia Martin, Anthony Carlino – “Babylon” — WINNER Hannah Beachler, Lisa K. Sessions – “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” Catherine Martin, Karen Murphy, Bev Dunn – “Elvis” Jason Kisvarday, Kelsi Ephraim – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” Rick Carter, Karen O’Hara – “The Fabelmans”

Best Editing Stephen Rivkin, David Brenner, John Refoua, James Cameron – “Avatar: The Way of Water” Tom Cross – “Babylon” Matt Villa, Jonathan Redmond – “Elvis” Paul Rogers – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNER Monika Willi – “Tár” Eddie Hamilton – “Top Gun: Maverick”

Best Costume Design Mary Zophres – “Babylon” Ruth E. Carter – “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” — WINNER Catherine Martin – “Elvis” Shirley Kurata – “Everything Everywhere All at Once” Jenny Eagan – “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” Gersha Phillips – “The Woman King”

Best Hair and Makeup “Babylon” “The Batman” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Elvis” — WINNER “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Whale”

Best Visual Effects “Avatar: The Way of Water” — WINNER “The Batman” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “RRR” “Top Gun: Maverick”

Best Song “Lift Me Up” – “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Ciao Papa” – “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” “Naatu Naatu” – “RRR” — WINNER “Hold My Hand” – “Top Gun: Maverick” “Carolina” – “Where the Crawdads Sing” “New Body Rhumba” – “White Noise”

Best Score Michael Giacchino – “The Batman” Justin Hurwitz – “Babylon” John Williams – “The Fabelmans” Alexandre Desplat – “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” Hildur Guðnadóttir – “Tár” — WINNER Hildur Guðnadóttir – “Women Talking”

#critics choice awards #critics choice #critics choice 2023 #cca 2023 #winners

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fragileruns · 1 year ago

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send in requests, please! i’m finally getting back to writing <3 you can send in au’s, headcanons/ideas, or just regular blurb/fic requests! certain things i won’t write for are listed on my page. i’m currently accepting requests for the following characters :)))

─── scream characters. chad meeks-martin, sam carpenter, tara carpenter, mindy meeks-martin, any og characters.

─── marauders characters. james potter, remus lupin, sirius black, regulus black, lily evans, marlene mckinnon.

─── stranger things characters. steve harrington, robin buckley, nancy wheeler, jonathan byers.

─── criminal minds characters. aaron hotchner, spencer reid, derek morgan, emily prentiss.

─── mcu characters. tasm peter parker, mcu peter parker, miguel o’hara, gwen stacy.

─── shadow & bone characters. jesper fahey, kaz brekker, malyen oretsev, matthias helvar, nina zenik.

─── outer banks characters. jj maybank, pope heyward, sarah cameron, john b routledge, kiara carrera.

─── daisy jones & the six characters. warren rojas, eddie roundtree, graham dunne, billy dunne, karen sirko, daisy jones.

─── bridgerton characters. anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, eloise bridgerton.

─── the rookie characters. tim bradford, lucy chen, angela lopez.

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kinkybandages · 1 year ago

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video calls | m. o’hara

pairings: miguel o’hara x gn!reader

word count: 579

warnings:, none

authors note: this was so fun to write. Hope you liked it

Navigation: ↳ linked here

“I’m not buying you anything.” Miguel warns, face blank as he pushes the basket. “Why not? It’s bonding time…” you pout, bringing your blanket up to your face as you watch him stroll through the store on the screen. You often video called Miguel when he went to the store. Did he offer to pick you up and take you to the store himself? Yes. Did you accept his offer and leave the comfort of your own bed? No. You were anxious, being in open and crowded places made you sick to your stomach, full of dread and sweaty. You hated going out, so when Miguel had to go out for groceries, you made him promise to call you so you could feel included.

“Ooo! Wait you passed the gummies.” You beamed, shaking ur phone and pointing. With a scowl, Miguel swiftly picked up the pace and went down a different aisle. “Puta.. do you listen? I told you to come with me and I’d get you whatever you want but did you?” You opened your mouth to retort and he instantly cut you off with a hiss. “No. You didn’t. So you’re gonna sit in that rotten bed of yours with sheets you don’t clean for weeks and watch me buy whatever I want.” Pouting, you murmured. “Okay…” Looking at the screen, Miguel was faced with a dilemma. Your pouty mouth and puppy dog eyes. “Oh my shock. Cut that out.” He growled, opting to turn away from his phone, picking up a watermelon that definitely wasn’t for you. Definitely not for you. “Please, miggy. I want gummies.. sour gummies.”

“Fine.” With a gasp, you watched Miguel turn his basket around, picking out one of the biggest bags of sour gummies he could find. “Thank you, hehe.” You giggled, kicking your feet in your bed, rubbing them together like a cricket. With a blush, Miguel mumbled curses in Spanish, ignoring your happy face that spread warmth throughout his body. “Okay, I’m gonna teach you something.” He whispered, looking around for people that would be watching. He grabbed the watermelon and showed you the yellow marks of it. “A ripe watermelon will have a patch, creamy yellow in color, where the melon rested on the ground.” He spoke, looking proud of himself as he knocked on it doing god knows what.

You took a few screenshots of him looking focused as he knocked on the watermelon, and a few more of him lovingly looking at a Nickelback cd, maybe too many of a Karen arguing with him when he accidentally bumped into her. The fear on her face when his fangs came out nearly made you piss yourself. Finally, Miguel had what he needed for dinner, most of the cart full of things you wanted. Watching him pack your yogurt and ice cream with a longing look in your eyes, he snorted. “I’m starting to think you love this ice cream more than me.” He muttered, raising a brow. You laughed, “aww, how’d you know?” Face dropping, Miguel scowled. “I’ll take it back right now.” He warned, “no, no, no! I was kidding. Miguel, Miggy, Migs. You’re my absolute favorite. My honey, my sugar booger, my stinky baby.” You mindlessly babbled on, Miguel watching you make crazy hand movements to the camera, wagging your finger. Laughing to himself, Miguel smiled. Adoration in your gaze, you grinned,

“Not to sound like an old misogynistic man.. but you should smile more, miggy.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #into the spider verse #spiderman astv

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rev-glut · 6 months ago

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Pick a WIP to hear about or ask me about it.

#re: reed #poll

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negativemindfeild · 7 months ago

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is it really that hard?

just read...

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR, AND THE CHARATERS

SHOWS;

shameless ;

ian gallagher, fiona gallagher, lip gallagher, mickey milkovich, kevin ball, v fisher, carl gallagher, and frank gallagher

nsfw available for all [ s5 + for ian, lip, and mickey, s11 for carl]

stranger things ;

jim hopper, steve harrington, eddie munson, nancy wheeler, jonathan byers, billy hargrove, mike wheeler, will byers, dustin henderson, lucas sinclair, max mayfield, and el hopper

nsfw available for all except mike, will, dustin, lucas, max, and el

the umbrella academy ;

diego hargreeves, allison hargreeves, klaus hargreeves, five hargreeves, ben hargreeves, and viktor hargreeves

nsfw available for all except five

the last of us ;

joel miller [ROMANTIC] ellie williams [PLATONIC]

nsfw available for joel

black butler ;

sebastian micheals, finny, bard, mei-rin, grell sutcliff, william t. spears, undertaker, and claude faustus

nsfw available for all

inside job ;

reagan ridley, brett hand, ron staedtler, and andre lee

nsfw available for all

kobra kai ;

daniel larusso, johnny lawrence, hawk moskowitz, robby keene, miguel diaz, and demetri alexopoulos

nsfw available for daniel and johnny

supernatural ;

sam winchester, dean winchester, castiel novak, lucifer, crowley, and john winchester

nsfw available for all

lucifer [netflix] ;

lucifer morningstar

nsfw available

demon slayer ;

kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui, obanai igura, sanemi shinazugawa, mitsuri kanroji, shinobu koxho, giyu tomioka, gyomei himejima, daki, gyutaro, muzan kibutsuji, kokoshibo, douma, akaza, enmu, tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agamatsu, inosuke hashibira, genya shinazugawa, and muichiro tokito

nsfw available for all except tanjiro, zenitsu, inosuke, genya, or muichiro

gotham ;

oswald cobblepot, fish moony, sal maroni, victor zsasz, edward nygma, harvey bullock, harvey dent, alfred pennytworth, and bruce wayne

nsfw available for all except bruce

daredevil ;

matt murdock

nsfw available

the mandolorian ;

din djarin 'mando'

nsfw available

GAMES;

call of duty ;

simon riley 'ghost', johnny mactavish 'soap', john price, kyle garrick 'gaz', alejandro vargas, phillip graves, keegan russ and könig

nsfw available for all

red dead redemption 2 ;

arthur morgan, bill williamson, charles smith, colm o'driscoll, dutch van der linde, hosea matthews, javier escuella, john marston, kieran duffy, micah bell, karen jones, mary-beth gaskill, abigail roberts and sean magurie

nsfw available for all

team fortress 2 ;

spy, mun-dee mundy 'sniper', jeremy 'scout', mr ludwig 'medic', mikhail 'heavy', pyro, tavis finnegan degroot 'demoman', mister jane doe 'soldier', dell gonagher'engineer'

nsfw available for all

stardew valley ;

harvey, maru, sebastian, abigail, sam, penny, elliott, leah, alex, hailey, shane, emily, and sandy

nsfw available for all

sally face ;

sal fisher, travis phelps, larry johnson, and ash campbell

nsfw unavailable

mortal kobat 1 ;

johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, raiden, kung lao, lui kang, kui liang 'scorpion', bi-han 'sub-zero', tomas vrbada 'smoke', syzoth 'reptile', rain, kitana, mileena, and sindel

nsfw available for all

doki doki literature club ;

monica, yuri, natsuki, and sayori

nsfw unavailable

danganronpa ;

makoto naegi, byakuya togami, mondo owada, kiotaka ishimaru, yasuhiro hagakure, leon kuwata, hajime hinata, nagito kamado, izuru kamakura, chiaki nanami, gundham tanaka, sonia nevermind, kazuichi souda, fuyuhiko kuzuryu, peko pekoyama, ibuki mioda, shuichi saihara, kokichi ouma, gonta gokuhara, k1-b0, miu iruma, rantaro amami, kaito mamota, kaede akamatsu, and kirumi tojo

nsfw available for all

MOVIES;

spiderverse ;

peter b parker, miguel o’hara, hobie brown, spider-man noir, ben parker, jess drew, miles morales, miles morales [ earth-42 ], gwen stacy, and pavitr prabhakar

nsfw available for peter b, miguel, hobie, noir, ben, and jess

star wars ;

obi-wan kenobi, anakin skywalker, padme amidala, qui-gon jinn, luke skywalker, han solo, leia skywalker, ben solo ‘kylo ren’, poe dameron, finn, rey skywalker, armitage hux, and cassian andor

nsfw available for all

marvel cinematic universe ;

tony stark, steve rogers, bucky barnes, sam wilson, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, vision, bruce banner, natasha romanoff, clint barton, peter parker, loki laufeyson, and thor odinson

nsfw available for all except peter

x-men ;

logan howlett ‘wolverine’, peter maximoff ‘quick silver’, erik lehnsherr ‘magneto’, charles xavier, hank mccoy ‘beast’, kurt wagner ‘nightcrawler’, warren worthington iii ‘archangel’, storm, and scott summers ‘cyclops’

nsfw available for all

deadpool ;

wade wilson ‘deadpool’, colossus, and weasel

nsfw available for all

karate kid ;

daniel larusso and johnny lawrence

nsfw unavailable

the breakfast club ;

john bender, andrew clark, brian johnson, claire standish, and allison reynolds

nsfw available for all

the outsiders ;

dallas winston, darry curtis, sodapop curtis, steve randell, two-bit matthews, johnny cade, and ponyboy curtis

nsfw available for darry and two-bit

the hobbit ;

bilbo baggins, thorin oakensheild, fili durin, kili durin, thranduil, legolas greenleaf, and bofur

nsfw available for all

lord of the rings ;

frodo baggins, sam gamgee, merry brandybuck, pippin took, gimli, legolas greenleaf, aragorn, and boromir

nsfw available for all

scream ;

billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, sidney prescott, tatum riley, and dewey riley

nsfw available for all

the ballad of songbirds and snakes ;

coriolanus snow, sejanus plinth, lucy gray baird, reaper ash, and jessup diggs

nsfw available for all except lucy gray

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