#It was muted so they did all the sound effects + voices as well

[randomaj]

Got two of my friends to watch Amok Time during class today. And they spent a good half of the episode saying "MAN there is so much romantic tension, when are they going to kiss??".

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 10

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: I'm baaaack! Oh how I've missed these two idiots XD Thanks to everyone who sent in ideas for what should happen AFTER THE KISS!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: swearing, shirtless Jake, SHIRTLESS JAKE, fluff, Jake's arms, did I mention shirtless Jake?

WC: ~2800

Part 1 | Masterlist

There are a lot of things you regret in life, but bombing your psych midterm because you were too busy making out with Jake Seresin to study is not one of them. Sure, you might not have remembered the ins and outs of Jungian archetypes, but you sure as hell can recite from memory every single word that had fallen out of Jake’s mouth following the inaugural kiss. You might have been a bit hazy on the details surrounding the birth of behaviorism, but you could certainly attest to the effectiveness of positive reinforcement in the form of Jake’s lips rewarding every correctly answered flash card. Thus, despite leaving the exam room with the sinking feeling that your GPA just took a nosedive, you couldn’t be happier.

Your excitement is short-lived, however, because you walk into the house to the unsettling sounds of grunting. You end up dropping your book bag loudly on the floor in an effort to alert any unsuspecting individuals of your arrival before you happen upon a scene you have no interest in witnessing.

But the groaning doesn’t subside, and you find yourself inching cautiously toward the living room, gripped by a nauseating curiosity. Slowly, you creep through the kitchen and peek around the wall into the living room. But what you see, albeit somewhat strange, is not exactly out of the ordinary. What you see is two grown men doing push-ups on your living room floor.

“Uhh,” you utter, stepping into the room to get a better look at the two of them positioned between the armchair and the coffee table.

Neither one looks up at you. They continue grunting into the carpeted floor against every thrust and then breathing heavily into the silence on their way back down. In unison. Shirtless.

“Okay, I’ll just…” you pause, waiting to see if your presence might be acknowledged before you continue speaking. Several seconds go by without any sort of greeting, as if they haven’t even noticed you enter, so you resume, “I’ll just go wait in the kitchen.”

No response.

“I’ll make myself a sandwich,” you add, your eyes inadvertently landing on the rippling muscles of Jake’s back as his shoulder blades contract.

Before you’re completely entranced by the hypnotic movement of Jake Seresin’s body, you shake your head and head back to the kitchen. But, just as you make your way out, you hear Jake’s strained voice, “We’re counting.”

You glance over your shoulder, but he isn’t looking at you; his mouth is taut and his nostrils are flaring and he winces slightly as he straightens his arms again. You decide not to interrupt them further and retreat into the kitchen to fix yourself some lunch.

You wander back in several minutes later, a jam sandwich in hand, and raise your eyebrows as your brother and your, well, Jake, finally finish with a host of groans and obscenities, and laboriously get to their feet.

You glance between the two of them as they pant and take a bite of your sandwich. Until this very moment, you had no idea how you would navigate your situation with Jake in Bradley’s presence. It wasn’t something that you and Jake had a chance to discuss over the course of the previous evening and you had been hoping to postpone the encounter for at least another day.

However, now that you’re all in the same room, you realize that nothing much has changed; Bradley and Jake are still up to their usual antics, and you are still critically observing them from the sidelines.

“Three sets,” Jake breathes heavily as he rolls his shoulders and meets your gaze. “Of a hundred.”

You stare at him mutely, wondering what kind of reaction he’s expecting you to have whilst your brother stands three feet away. You pull your lips into a tight smile and nod approvingly. “If only you put this much effort into keeping track of your socks,” you respond wryly, noticing the pair that’s tucked into the corner of the armchair; the third that you’ve located in the living room this week.

Jake bows his head and Bradley lets out a snort. “I have hot feet,” Jake mutters to the floor.

You eye the veins along his forearms – more pronounced than usual after his workout – and decide conclusively that his feet are not the exception.

Bradley, who’s just finished guzzling half a bottle of water, hums at you to get your attention. Immediately, you tear your gaze from Jake’s veiny hands and blink up at your brother in alarm, certain that he’s already caught on to you since you can’t seem to stop gawking at his best friend. Bradley grins, his eyes bright with excitement. “So,” he says, “how was your study date?” His smile widens slyly.

You stare at him awkwardly, not daring to look at Jake, even when the latter chokes on his water. Clearly, he has not said a word to Bradley about the events of the previous evening.

Bradley watches you expectantly, ignoring Jake’s coughing fit. “Uh,” you start, your voice sounding unusually fuzzy. “It was, um,” you clear your throat, still not looking at Jake as he finally straightens his back and takes another enormous gulp of water.

Bradley lifts his eyebrows. “That good, huh?” he asks with a chuckle.

You feel your palms start to sweat and it takes a great deal of willpower to keep them steady at your sides rather than rubbing them together and wiping them on your thighs. “Pretty good,” you say weakly, avoiding direct eye contact with your brother.

“Get much studying done?” Bradley asks, picking his shirt up off the couch and pulling it over his head.

You briefly lock eyes with Jake. “Some,” you croak, in response to which Bradley shakes his head knowingly.

“How’d you do on your midterm?” Jake asks, finally setting his water bottle down.

You hold his gaze timidly, not sure how long you can get away with looking right at him. “I probably could have done better,” you confess.

Jake winces slightly. “Shit, really?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“We warned you,” Bradley calls in a singsong voice as he heads out of the living room. “That dude wasn’t looking to study, and you fell for it.”

Jake tilts his head to the side and rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “Maybe he tried,” he says, still grimacing.

Bradley stops short of the entrance to the kitchen and looks back at him. “Yeah, right,” he says. “Is that what you would do?” he asks him.

Jake’s face visibly pales and he stammers out, “M-me? What kind of question is that?” He clears his throat and adds, “Even.”

“You definitely would not have tried,” Bradley says. Then, he looks at you pointedly. “Next time, just study at home. Trust me.”

You nod, trying not to think too hard about how ineffective studying at home has proved, in fact, to be.

“Want a protein shake, bro?” Bradley asks before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Yeah, man,” Jake calls back. “Thanks.”

The two of you stand very still for a moment, not looking at one another. Then, Jake bends down to grab his muscle shirt off the floor.

“Sucks about your test,” he says, his head hanging so low that his chin nearly rests on his clavicle.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, suddenly uneasy now that it’s just the two of you in the room.

Jake draws the shirt over his head and then wearily drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking at you guiltily.

You shrug nonchalantly and give him a small smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He pulls his shirt down over his torso casually, but it’s probably the single most sexy thing you’ve ever witnessed. He sighs and says, “I feel responsible,” but all you could really pay any attention to is the sliver of stomach that he’s so carelessly left exposed. If anything, it’s entirely irresponsible.

You purse your lips and eye him humorously. “Well, that’s very self-centered of you.”

Jake laughs at your comment and you breathe a sigh of relief as the tension between you slowly dissipates.

“Dude, you coming?” Bradley calls, popping his head back in to check on Jake. “First fifteen minutes are crucial!”

“Be right there,” Jake responds and, grabbing his two stray socks off the armchair, starts for the kitchen.

You wander in after him to put your plate in the sink and Jake all but leaps out of your way when you get too close.

Bradley leans into the counter and speaks again, “So, apparently Jake had a wild night.”

The plate starts to slip out of your hand before you make it all the way to the sink, and you sort of toss it the rest of the way. It clatters against the basin but thankfully remains intact. “Oh yeah?” you ask in a high-pitched voice while Bradley watches you curiously.

“I didn’t say wild,” Jake clarifies, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he tries to find a less awkward way to rest his entire frame against the slightly protruding door of the refrigerator.

Bradley makes a face at him. “I paraphrased.”

You try not to smile as you ask, “What happened?” You glance at Jake mischievously as he digs himself further into the corner. The fact that he’s disclosed any details to Bradley is shocking, to say the least.

“Oh, just that he finally made a move on a chick he’s been obsessing over for weeks,” Bradley says with a proud grin.

While you try to process the words ‘for weeks’, Jake counters moodily, “I was not obsessing, dude. Come on.”

You lift your eyes slowly to meet his gaze and he glances at you reluctantly.

“Please, you never shut up about her!” Bradley cries.

Jake exhales sharply and glares over at Bradley, but he doesn’t deny his assertion.

“Who is she?” you ask hesitantly, ignoring the pointed stare you get from Jake as you direct your question at Bradley.

Bradley shrugs. “I don’t know her.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Jake scoffs in the background while Bradley grimaces. “No, but he won’t tell me, so I’ve stopped asking.”

You withhold a smile and say quietly, “Wonder what she’s like.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “For the love of god –”

But his complaint is interrupted by Bradley when he says, “Apparently, she’s insanely hot –”

“Rooster,” Jake cuts him off sternly, pushing himself off the refrigerator to square his shoulders intimidatingly.

“What?” Bradley chuckles as you bite into your cheek to suppress a grin. “Those were your exact words!”

“Enough,” Jake says, glaring at him threateningly.

“Relax, it’s just my sister,” Bradley says, attempting to diffuse the situation gracefully. “She won’t tell a soul.”

You bat your eyelashes at Jake innocently. “Promise,” you assure him.

Jake narrows his eyes at you subtly. “Tell us more about your date,” he says, cleverly taking the heat off himself.

You lower your gaze and respond with, “It wasn’t a date.”

“But will there be one in the future?” Bradley asks.

You glance back at Jake instinctively before addressing your brother, “Not that I know of.”

Jake chugs the remainder of his shake and walks over to the sink to rinse the glass. He rests his hip on the counter right next to you and asks, “Would you go?”

You look up at him hesitantly, apprehensive about his proximity, even though he still stands a good two feet away. “Where?”

“On a date,” Jake clarifies. “If he asks.”

You gulp nervously, looking back at your equally curious-looking brother. The truth is, you’re afraid of showing all your cards so early in the game. Jake Seresin isn’t a dater, he doesn’t go out with the same girl multiple times. And if he’s only with you because you’re ‘insanely hot’ – his words – he might be spooked by an overzealous response. “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Haven’t thought about it.”

“Bullshit,” Bradley interjects obnoxiously.

“I agree,” Jake adds.

You clamp your jaw tightly, mildly annoyed at Jake for making you the target of conversation yet again. “Are you planning on asking insanely hot girl out?” you enquire aggressively, fixing Jake with an accusing glower.

“How do you know I haven’t already?” Jake asks in a patronizing tone.

You glare at him through squinted eyes. “Wild guess.”

“Of course, he’s gonna ask her out,” Bradley chimes in. “As soon as he stops wigging out about it.”

Jake gives him a peeved look before glancing back at you. “I’m considering it,” he says vaguely.

“Please,” Bradley scoffs and Jake shoots him another ominous glare. “There’s nothing he would want more.”

“That’s not true,” Jake mutters monotonously while you scrutinize the evasive movements of his eyes.

“You literally told me that –”

“Bradley!” Jake shouts. “Shut up!”

Bradley grimaces. “Since when do we keep secrets around here?”

“Since I fucking said so,” Jake retorts.

You glance between the two of them awkwardly and then look down at your feet, stretching out the already uncomfortable silence. You try not to dwell on what your brother has said but Jake wanting nothing more than to take you on a date has you feeling all kinds of giddy. Hesitantly, you say, “I’d probably say yes.” You bite your lip and add, “To study group guy – if he asks.”

Bradley nods, unsurprised. And you don’t dare check on Jake’s reaction. But before you could second guess your confession, Jake says, “He’ll ask.” You steal a glance at him and he catches your gaze. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

You give him a small, half-smile – the half that’s not visible from your brother’s vantage point. But Bradley seems to have lost interest in the topic now that he’s been censored because he starts to shuffle out of the kitchen.

“Hey Bradley!” you call after him. “How was your date?”

Bradley stops and spins to face you. “Finally!” he exclaims.

You smirk at him. “Did she like your shirt?”

Bradley grins. “She loved my shirt.”

“She loved it so much, she kept it,” Jake adds.

Your jaw drops in shock when Bradley yells, “Hey! So, it’s alright to air my dirty laundry?”

“Technically, now she’s got your dirty laundry,” you point out and Jake high fives you.

Bradley shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Real mature,” he says. “At least I had the balls to ask her out.” With that, he finally exits the kitchen.

You start after him when your feel Jake’s hand brush gently across the small of your back. You turn to face him and he rests it confidently on your hip. You wonder what he’s going to say but, just when you’re about to articulate your curiosity, he leans down and kisses you square on the mouth. His fingers slide into the hair at the nape of your neck as he takes a hold of your face and, as his thumb sweeps languidly back and forth across your cheekbone, you absently speculate on just how big his hand must be to support your head in such a way. You’re so engrossed in this calculation, in fact, that you nearly miss the moment his tongue enters the equation.

Of course, all of this happens so quickly that, before you can really even kiss him in return, he’s already taking a step back and glancing at the doorway to make sure that Bradley isn’t there.

You graze your teeth over your bottom lip, trying to contain your widening smile as you meet his gaze. It’s nice to know that Jake still wants to kiss you today just as badly as he did yesterday. So much so that he’s willing to risk Bradley walking in on you. You let yourself ogle him overtly for a moment, admiring his tanned arms and the little bit of chest that you could see above the low neckline of his muscle shirt. Then, you say, “I want to hear more about this insanely hot girl you won’t shut up about.”

Jake cringes, busying himself with the dishes sitting in the dishrack. “I’m not sure you’d get along. She’s very confrontational.” He puts away a couple of bowls into a cupboard.

You let out a shocked gasp as if you're offended. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Jake turns back to face you, grinning as he throws a dishtowel over his shoulder. “Super intense. A little scary.”

“I don’t know, she sounds like a catch,” you say, taking a small step toward him. “I mean, according to Bradley, you’ve been obsessing over her for weeks!”

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle and, pulling you in to give you a quick peck on the side of your head, he mutters into your hair, “I’m gonna kill your brother.”

Read Part 11

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 3. (part 1 here) (part 2 here)

-

The man at your till is making you feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

He’s a stocky man, not quite as imposing as John, but still big. He’s particularly unnerving because the man has been standing by your till for the past few minutes without having anything in his hands. No basket in sight. Not a rutabaga or a bushel of carrots or even a single jar of olives.

It’s as if he just blew in off the street; dark hair mussed from the wind, shabbily dressed for the winter as if the cold weren’t even an issue for him. The intensity of his stare makes your skin crawl though, and it’s even worse when he decides to strike up a conversation with you. 

It’s like he only came into the shop to stare at you and make creepy, suggestive comments. Laswell comes out from the back when his presence starts to make even the other customers uncomfortable, but all that does is relegate him to the parking lot, where he’s free to loiter and stare at you through the window all he wants. 

You delay the inevitable for almost half an hour because you keep talking yourself out of calling John. It’s not like you’re not familiar with each other by now—he’s taken you to diners and cafés, and you’ve brought him tupperware filled with stew and casserole on the days when you’ve watched him slump up the steps of his front porch, looking haggard and about to fall on his face—but it feels intrusive. A favour you wouldn’t normally ask of him. It almost feels like you’re using him, actually. 

Still though, after some time you almost feel like you don’t have a choice. You either call John or the police, and the latter option is vastly more unappealing. Then you’d really be causing a ruckus for nothing. 

Since your phone is stored under the desk by the till, you take a second in between customers to dial John’s number, listening to it ring with your back to the window. That makes your shoulders tense up even more, acutely aware of two eyes burrowing into the back of your neck. The anxiety puts a cramp in your belly until you hear John pick up.

“John,” you whisper into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver. There’s static on the other end before you hear him grumble your name. “Are you—is this a bad time?”

“No, s’good a time as any,” he says, voice thick and heady. “What’s the matter, honey?”

The sound of his voice makes you shiver like it always does, but the effect is muted under the droning of your anxiety. Like a pale imitation of its usual force. 

“I just was wondering if—would you mind coming down to the shop for a bit?” 

“What for? Need help stocking the shelves?” he asks, still lighthearted. Maybe you’re keeping your cool just a bit too well because he hasn’t yet detected the undercurrent of fear making your voice almost tremble. You glance over your shoulder again and shudder when you see the same man still loitering in the parking lot, eyes locked on you. When he smiles, it’s mean. 

“Actually I—I hope this isn’t rude but there’s…this guy’s been hanging around outside for a bit and…” you start, then stop to chew on your lip. “Well, he’s really starting to freak me out.”

You can almost hear him straighten up on the other end. “What’s that?”

Now his tone makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You’ve never heard him sound like this before—alert all of a sudden, a hard edge to his voice that you might have associated with his work persona if you’d ever seen it before. It fills you with comfort and worry all at once. 

“He came in earlier and he was…well, he kind of came in looking confused and then—I think he noticed me looking at him strangely or something, which I—well, I don’t think I was making like, a weird face or anything, but—”

“Did he say anything to you?” John asks, cutting you off. 

You cup your hand even more around the phone so it muffles your words. “He said I smell…fecund? I don’t even know what that means, but…”

He goes silent for a moment before he speaks again. At first, you think he sounds almost calm, but you clock the way his breathing pattern abruptly changes. “I’ll be there in a few. Don’t move, honey.”

He hangs up before you’re able to say another word. You hold the phone to your ear for another couple of seconds before your eyes inevitably dart back to the window, where the other man is still staring at you, his upper lip curled. 

You try your best to focus on your job, checking each new customer out while steadfastly avoiding looking out the main window. It wouldn’t do you any good anyway. In your peripheral vision, you see the dark shadowy form of the man still leaning against his car, eyes still trained on you. It won’t be dark for another hour or so, but the fact that your shift only ends when it’s well past the daylight hours makes your hands tremble when you scan a container of hummus. You mess up the code for artichoke three separate times.

You don’t see the moment John pulls into the parking lot, but you hear the commotion and your head whips around just in time to see him dragging the other man into the woods behind the grocers, one big arm wrapped around his neck. He’s somehow bigger than the man you’d thought towered over you, making his struggle seem pointless as he's dragged off by John. 

It’s over so quickly that when the two of them disappear past the treeline, you almost think you imagined it for a second. Then another second goes by and you find John’s car haphazardly parked in the lot, the door still open. At least he managed to turn it off.

“Kate, did you—” you say, turning towards when you remember last seeing her restock the boxed panettone display only to find your manager standing in front of your till, staring out the same window as you. 

“Shit,” she says, blinking. A bit awed. “Never seen John that mad before.”

“He’s, uh—I called him because that guy wouldn’t leave. I thought maybe he’d…I don’t know what I thought he’d do, honestly.”

“You know, we could’ve called the sheriff.”

You don’t want to admit that your first thought was always John. Not the police. “Oh. I guess.” 

The two of you keep staring out the window. Neither man emerges from the treeline. 

“Should I—”

“Don’t even think about suggesting that you go check on him. He’s a grown man and you’re still on the clock.”

“Got it,” you mumble, a bit peeved.

Kate looks at you from the corner of her eye. “Besides, John’ll have my head if he finds out I let his favourite cashier chase after him into the woods where he just dragged off a man harassing her.”

“He wouldn’t do that—”

You’re cut off when a customer waiting at your till clears their throat, forcing you to leave your station at the window. Kate’s smug smile haunts you while you ring the impatient customer up. She heads back to her office before you’re able to say your piece, leaving you to stew in silence.

There aren’t usually many customers in the middle of a random weekday, so you have nothing to do except stare out the window and fret. Your heart skips a beat any time the trees sway with the breeze. Another customer gives you a bit of a hassle over a two-for-one deal that your scanner didn’t pick up and you almost snap at them. 

You finally make the decision to leave your till when the trees rustle and your heart stops for a second before John steps back out into the parking lot, looking dishevelled but no worse for wear. His hat is gone. There’s a nasty cut on his lip and it seems like his shirt has been fully ripped open, exposing a wide, hairy chest and two thick pectorals. You do not stare at the way the hair on his chest whorls around his brown nipples. 

His eyes are locked on you through the window and his brows furrow when he watches you jog to the doors. When they slide open, you hear him shout from across the lot, “Back inside.”

“I can—”

“Get back inside.”

You pout, but listen, taking a step back in and letting the doors shut with a whoosh. You wait anxiously on the balls of your feet until they slide open again when John finally crosses the parking lot in only a few short seconds. He zips up his coat before coming inside, depriving you of the view. You have to school your face so that your pout doesn’t deepen.

“Are you okay—” you ask when he steps into the grocery store, but no one in this town seems to be able to let you finish a sentence because he cuts you off almost immediately.

“Where’s Laswell?” he asks, almost rhetorically because he sidesteps you after a brief touch to your chin to tilt your head up, eyes tracking across your face as if looking for something to rile him up even more. “Kate.” 

You shush him when you trail after him towards the back where Kate’s office door is wide open. His voice carries on a good day; after his tussle out in the forest, it seems to boom across the store, drawing curious eyes. You smile weakly.

“Busy today?” It’s the first thing out of his mouth when he reaches the door of Kate’s office. Her chair is already turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest and blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun.

“It’s normal,” Kate says, almost like a challenge. “Business as usual.”

“Good. I’m taking your cashier home then. That gonna be an issue?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m trembling. You didn’t get all of this out with the other guy? Still need a good fight?”

“Please, John, I can stay—I’m really sorry about all of this,” you say, turning from John back to Kate, a bit frazzled now that it’s sunk in. A faint tremor works its way through you. You don’t even realize the way you unconsciously grip John’s jacket, anchoring yourself in place. 

“Honey, we’re going home,” John stresses, fitting a hand against your low back, drawing you a bit closer. You move into him without a thought, like a natural pull. 

Kate’s eyes soften when she meets yours. “It’s fine, I can cover the till for the rest of the afternoon. John’s right—just go home. I still know how to work a register, you know.”

He doesn’t let you stay a moment longer to argue or insist that you stay and cover your shift. He sweeps you out the door with a warm hand still low on your back, letting you briefly grab your coat and bag before hustling you to his car. It’s freezing inside from the wide open door, so he blasts the hot air until you slump into the passenger seat, the heat lulling you into a stupor. 

The drive back home—whatever home at this point means—is long. Part of you wonders whether he’ll drive you to work tomorrow to pick up your car or if you’ll be forced to take a bus, but it isn’t the time or place to be thinking about those things. 

“What’d you do with him?” you mumble, turning your head to stare at the side of his face. The cut of his jaw is hard, obscured somewhat by the beard growing in heavy with the winter, but deeply masculine like something out of an old western. You think you’d happily count every bristle without complaint if he let you.

“Taught him to mind his manners,” John says. The answer is short, to the point. It makes you tremble. 

“Like, to respect women?”

He turns his head to look over at you. It’s just for a moment, brief in the grand scheme of things, but it feels significant. Pointed. Sustained. “To not touch what isn’t his.”

The truck never so much as wavers on the road.

[triannel]

hello! Bill and a deaf-mute reader?

Alternatively, for the sake of attention and trying to impress, could Bill try to learn sign language or speak to them telepathically? I'm not sure about his telepathy. At least in the dream world, can hear him???

A funnier option: BILL CREATES SUBTITLES. When someone speaks, subtitles appear around them. Of course it takes a while to read, but the reader tries his best and probably laughs.

Bill and deaf-mute reader headcannon's

-Perceiving the world only by sight, your life was exceptional, your family loved you dearly but unfortunately they could not yet afford any treatment for your disability.

-You enjoy all you have though, not letting it upset you. The colors of the world making you feel functional at least. Although, you would be lying if you said you loved being like this.

-At times though you wished for your voice to come, for you to speak and hear all the sounds you could. You wanted to experience what other people had, you wanted to be normal... But until then you just had to be patient, the savings of your parents giving you more hope than ever.

-Then you met him, a strange creature that one day appeared in your dream. The three sided creature, Bill Cipher.

-He suddenly just appeared one day and for once in your life you heard something. When he spoke, you truly did hear him speak, although it did take some time for you to properly understand him. Your reading comprehension is great, but hearing and understanding was something you thought you never could attain, but here you are.

-Before you could properly understand him, he actually used sign language to speak, although it was not perfect you appreciated it.

-He messed around for a bit as well. After trying sign language, he also tried different methods to communicate. Charades, writing in different languages, drawing and even adding subtitles when he talked.

The vibrant colour of yellow brightened slightly as he spoke, subtitles appearing under him as he does so. The words flashed by quickly so you had to read fast in order to understand, but suddenly he stopped, and started drawing different pictures on the air that slowly transitioned to Morse code.

Like little bells, you started to laugh at his antics. Was....was that you, did you do that?

Surprised, you froze on the spot and tried to speak. A mess of jumbled sound was heard.

"JEEZ FINALLY! YES THAT'S YOU WONDER EYES," the subtitles under him read.

Right after you understood, a quick explosion happened inside of you. With a big toothy smile, you could not believe this was happening.

"WELL YOU BETTER BELEIVE IT, CAUSE' IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THESE YOU JUST NEED TO GIVE ME A SMALL favor IN RETURN," he spoke, using different methods that made it hard to decipher.

-You would ultimately reject his offer though, making a deal with him sounded quite sketchy.

-But despite your refusal, he surprisingly did not at all revoke your ability to speak and listen. He just kept coming back with no reason.

-His power would only work inside your mind though, as his reach to your dimension is too thin to have a direct effect on you.

-Overtime you would grow fond of him though, becoming quite a bit attached to the dreams that grants you the abilities you lost long ago. However, you can't help but feel it's all just a dream. It just feels so surreal, but even so you'd like to savour this as long as you'd like.

Waking up from your consciousness, you return to the mindscape. A few feet away from you, Bill sits in front of a piano.

Pressing one key, a musical note emenated from the instrument. Raising both his hands for a moment, he then started playing a song. Slowly, the notes colided with each other, creating a beautiful harmony.

The melody started to dance in your ears, your heartbeat slowing down as he started to sing.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer do..." He sang in unison while playing the piano.

Humming along with the tune, you approached him. Sitting down beside the long stool, you closed your eyes, humming and listening with your heart and ears as you both enjoyed each other's company.

[courtforshort15]

In the Rearview

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 3,300

Summary: Reader returns from a trip home to visit her family, and Matt is less than happy to hear about the details.

Trigger warning: discussion of physical abuse

Shameless use of the "who did this to you?" trope.

Masterlist

"What happened to your face?"

You drop the plastic cup you had pulled out of your cabinet as you jump in surprise, hand flying to your throat. Matt stands next to your window in all black, mask missing from his face, clothes damp from sweat and blood leaking from a jagged scratch on his bicep that you can see through his torn shirt. His hands are on his hips, a frown visible on the lips you've spent many hours pressed against.

You step forward to greet him, having not seen him for a few days, but the look on his face stops you. It's a mixture of confusion and frustration and barely contained rage, and you're not quite sure if he wants to be touched at this moment, so you keep your distance for the time being.

"What? What are you talking about?" You ask slowly instead, bending down to pick up the cup that had flown from your hand in a graceless fall and landed with a loud clatter on your floor. You scoop it up and place it on the counter, grateful it had been empty before it slid from your hands.

"There's something on your face, isn't there?"

"I don't--"

"Bruising, right?" He takes a step further into your kitchen, shutting the window quietly behind him, effectively muting the sound of New York City that's been leaking into your apartment since he entered. "Your face is bruised. Your left cheek bone."

You look at him in alarm, hand flying to the cheek he’s motioned at. "No, there's nothing there."

Matt's frown deepens, the corners of his mouth forced downward in the expression. He doesn't look very impressed with the obvious false statement you've just fed him, and you wince. "Not only can I tell that you're lying, but I can tell there's swelling underneath your eye. And blood has pooled."

"Matt--"

He all but stomps around your kitchen table so he's standing right in front of you, the gait to his step similar to what you’ve seen in old newsreels, back when Daredevil had been a novelty that every news outlet wanted to cover. Your man is a prowler, you’ve long since acknowledged, fury present in every line of his body as he makes his way through Hell's Kitchen night after night. 

His calloused hand reaches out, as if to touch your face, but pulls it back just inches from the skin below your eye. His face hardens. 

"Who did this to you?"

You let out a loud sigh and attempt to take a step back, if nothing more than to put some distance between you and the intense level of focus that’s aimed your way. You know how he gets when he’s noticed something out of place, and right now the giant bruise on your cheek is just that, though you try to dissuade him from the topic. "No one did anything."

"That's a lie."

"I promise nothing--"

"Stop lying," he growls suddenly. If he were a dog, his hackles would be raised so sharply you’d be able to see them from twenty feet away. "There's a giant bruise on your face. What the hell happened?"

You're silent for a second before you answer. This isn't a conversation you've been wanting to have, not with the week's events so fresh in your mind. You already know how he's going to react, and the thought makes you cringe. "I don't...I don't want to talk about it."

The look on his face is one of disbelief. "Don't want to...? I don't care. My girlfriend went away for a few days to visit her parents and came back with a bruise the shape of someone's hand on her cheek. Who hit you?"

You grimace as you shift your weight from side to side. Your eyes leave his face as you turn your head to the window, taking in the sight of the brick building next door. Eyes welling, you bite back a soft, shaky sigh and clench your fists at your side. 

Matt takes note of your silence and prompts you more gently this time, the fire in his voice temporarily extinguished as he pulls your hand into his and uncurls the fingers so he can lace his in with yours. 

You take a deep breath, your hand instinctively tightening around his. "My dad. My dad hit me."

Matt visibly recoils, eyes widening in alarm. His jaw has dropped, his lips stretched around the expression. "Your dad?"

"Yeah, my dad," you admit with another wince, and the movement in your face causes a level of discomfort as it forces your sore skin to move. "He hit me the other day."

"The other day?" He asks, and his voice is one that suggests he still can’t believe the words coming out of your of your mouth. "But you only got back yesterday. You stayed with them after he hit you?"

"No, I left their house after that," you tell him, and the look he gives you is incredulous, as if the distinction isn’t much better. You know what’s pouring through his mind right now, and it’s not pretty. You long to tell him you’re okay, that everything is fine, but the man looks like a bomb that’s ready to explode, and another lie from you would only be the match. "I just…didn't come home right away because I didn't want people to see it and question things."

"Question things? You were concerned about people questioning things?"

You squirm under his attention, but stay your course. You’ve often chosen not to say anything to anyone for a reason, hating the looks of pity you were sure to receive. You were used to marks on your skin, having grown up in the household that you did, and you hate having to explain things just as much as you hate having to hide things. "Bruising on the face doesn't look good."

If it’s even possible, Matt's jaw drops even further. You vaguely notice the cut that’s stark red and glaring at you against his pale skin on the corner of his mouth. "Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?"

You object to the accusation, but it’s weak, even to your own ears. Despite his lack of sight, Matt always sees right through you, even the pieces you find yourself reluctant to share. Without fail, he always has a way of pulling things out into the open. 

"I haven't been avoiding you."

He scoffs, even while your hand is held gently in his. "We've barely talked on the phone the past few days, and you told me you had a busy day today and didn't have time to meet up."

"I was busy. I had a ton to catch up on." At least that part isn't a lie. Emails, errands, a sobbing conversation with your sister while you told her about what transpired over the course of a few days with your parents. You were worn out, and the appearance of your angry vigilante in your kitchen wasn’t helping, though all you’ve wanted is to be pulled back and held by him since the second you left New York to head to your hometown.

"Sweetheart, I had to hear from Foggy that something was up," he said quietly, suddenly taking another step into your space, hand reaching up to run lightly through your hair. "He said you were wearing so much make-up to cover it up, but that he could still see a mark. He called me and asked what had happened to your face. He was shocked I didn’t know."

"I'm not surprised," you shrug helplessly, and he tracks the movement with a sigh. "It's still there a little, but I had too many things to do today. I ran into him on my way home from the store an hour ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's embarrassing," you mumble, shuffling your feet. The floor creaks under the shift in weight as you do, and then again as he takes another step towards you.

"Embarrassing?" He asks incredulously. "Someone put their hands on you and it's embarrassing?"

"I just...I just don't like talking about it."

"Has your dad hit you before?"

Your breath catches in your throat as he asks the question you knew was coming, even while you hoped he would leave it alone. The silence that follows the question apparently tells him everything he needs to hear, because he looks enraged.

"How long? How long has your dad been abusive?"

You avoid looking at him, but a finger on your chin brings your face back to his. He does it for his benefit, not yours, because he wants to know he has your complete attention. He always has your complete attention when he’s in the room, if you’re being honest with yourself. You’ve been unable to shift your focus from him since the moment you were introduced to him. 

“Pretty much since elementary school."

Matt inhales sharply. "And you still go back to see him?"

A few tears suddenly cloud your vision, much to your horror, and your hand immediately lifts to brush them away, but Matt wipes them first, a mournful sound resonating in the back of his throat. Your pain has always mattered more to him than any broken rib, concussion, or laceration he has suffered ever could. 

"I don't go back to see him. I go back to see my mom."

Realization blooms across his face, and you smile sadly at the expression. "Does he hit your mom, too?"

With a quiet sigh, you nod, still struggling to hold in a few tears. His thumb still rests on the cheek that is not bruised, and he catches the few drops that attempt to make their way down your face. "He started hitting her long before he moved on to me and my sister."

"How...how did this go on for so long? How did no one say anything? See anything?"

"My dad's a very smart man," you say softly, knowing he’ll hear you regardless of the volume. It’s the benefit of being in love with a man who is always so tuned in on everything you say and do. You are completely aware of the fact that he knows you better than you know yourself. "He was very careful about where he hit us, and how hard."

"Was child protective services ever called?" He still looks and sounds absolutely infuriated, the smoke and fire of the Devil seeping out of his pores.

"Twice. But my dad...he had connections on the force. Small town politics, you know?" The smile that stretches over your teeth is bitter. "And my mom always lied, too. Especially because we all knew it would get worse for us if we didn't."

Matt swears a blue streak. When not on the streets stalking for the next person to spill their blood on the Muay Thai ropes wrapped around his hands, Matt is generally mild-mannered, so the language escaping his lips isn’t exactly common. "And she's still with him?"

You shrug miserably. "Yeah, she won't leave him. I think she's too scared to. Scared about what her life would look like without him. She doesn't have a job, doesn't have very many friends. All of her family is gone, pretty much. She was an only child, and my grandparents are dead, so no one to look to."

"And you? What about you?"

Shaking your head with a grimace, you attempt to take a step back, the heavy subject taking a tole. Unsurprisingly, he follows you, matching you step for step, always reluctant to keep space between you when he can tell you’re upset. "Matt, I've offered. Several times. And so has my sister. But she won't leave." 

"So you go to visit her." It's not a question.

You nod, running your fingers over your kitchen counter as Matt steps closer, his arm wrapping around your waist in an effort to keep you as close to him as possible, as if he needs to be the only one between you and the rest of the world. "Yeah. If it was just him, I'd never go back. But I can't just...leave her. I need to check up on her from time to time. I refuse to sleep in the house though. There's a hotel down the street."

"And this time? What happened this time?" Matt's presses,and the fingers on his other hand lifts to run gently down the bruise. You try not to flinch away from the touch as it's still tender, but he still notices the way you tense, and his mouth hardens.

"He, uh...he heard me asking my mom if she wanted to come visit me here. He thought I was trying to take her away."

"Were you?"

You nod a little reluctantly. "I was hoping that if I could get her away from him for a few days, she might see that there is life outside of him. But he heard me bring it up while we were in the kitchen, and he hit me and told me to shut my mouth or he’d shut it for me."

Matt hisses. You’re absolutely sure that if he didn’t feel the need to keep you close, to feel you against him to remind him you were fine, he’d be on his way out the window to hunt down the man in question. Your parents live several states away, but Matt would absolutely make the journey for you if you said the word. 

"Did you leave? Please tell me you left after that."

"I did," you tell him, and there’s a quick flash of relief that slides across his face before it settles back into the hard frown. "I grabbed my things and went back to the hotel."

"Did you call the police?"

You look away again, an old wound tearing open at the question. You’ve tried over the years to help your mother to the best of your ability, but you haven’t been successful. It’s been one of the greatest failures of your life. 

"There's not much they can do when the victim refuses to say anything. She still just lies for him."

His eyes are surprisingly soft when he turns your face back to his. "True, but I meant for you. Did you call the police for him hitting you?"

Your breath stalls, every inch of your body screeching to a halt as you consider what he’s asked. "I hadn't actually...thought of that."

"Then we're going to call them. We'll press charges," he replies without a moment’s pause, face determined, the hand at your waist twitching as if it’s ready to make the phone call right this instant. You grab his hand in yours, once again lacing your fingers, wordlessly asking him to give it a second before he does anything.

"I don't think--" you try to object, but he quickly cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

"Sweetheart, I'm a lawyer. A good one. There's no way I'm just gonna let this slide."

“You’re a defense lawyer. Even if I decided to do this, it’s outside your normal scope of work.”

It doesn’t deter him, not one ounce. This fearless man in your life is always ready to jump to the aid of others, especially when that person is you. It’s his greatest strength, this desire to do good, even while you sometimes see it as your greatest source of sadness.  “I’ll make an exception. Or I can reach out to an old classmate who specializes in this sort of law.”

"Matt--"

"No," he shakes his head adamantly, his breathing harsh, skin almost scalding to the touch as his heart race increases pounds beneath the surface. "If you think for one second I'm not going to make this man pay, you've got another thing coming. He hit you. He put his hands on you."

"I'm scared about making things worse for my mom," you force out around the teeth that have clenched in an effort to keep from crying. "I'd do this in a heartbeat if I knew she was safe."

"There are shelters--"

"We've tried those before," you argue, and the tone is just as desperate as the fear is rippling through your system. "She either refuses to go, or goes for a few days and ends up right back with him. Whatever I do, it can't come back onto her."

"It won't." He sounds so sure, and every cell in your body wants to believe him, but such hope is foolish and has led you into trouble before.

"You don't know that."

"I know that I'm going to do everything I can to make sure this man is put behind bars," he growls. For all his anger, his hands are still soft on yours, as they always are. Never before would you have thought that a man with such calloused palms and fingertips could hold you so gently. "You deserve to know he's paying for hurting you. Your mom deserves to not live in fear from a man who still hurts her."

You're crying now, having given up the farce of trying to hide it, trying to force it down. "He just always seems to win, Matt. No matter what my sister and I do."

Matt almost deflates against you, and you watch as another thought pushes its way into his head and out of his mouth. "I should never have let you go by yourself."

You try to push him away, surprised at how the conversation has turned, but his grip tightens. "This isn't your fault, Matt. Why would you even think that?"

"I could feel something was wrong when you said you were going to visit," he says quietly, and the anger that had him so riled up just moments ago has suddenly turned in on himself. He’s always been quick to take every wrong onto his shoulders, regardless if he had any hand in it or not. "But I just chalked it up to stress at work and didn't question anything."

"You didn't know," you whisper, and you take a step closer, pressing your entire body against him. He leans into you without being prompted, a hand wrapping itself in your hair. "You couldn't have. I never told you. That's not on you. None of this is on you."

"Even so, I don't want you anywhere near him ever again. Do you hear me?"

"But my mom--"

You feel Matt shake his head against you, and the movement is almost sharp as he responds."If you need to see your mom, we will work something out where you can see her without him. I don't care what we have to do. But promise me you won't be around him again, especially if I'm not there."

You let out a deep breath, trembling against him. "I promise I won't see him again without you."

"Promise me again." 

Your hands dig into the back of his shirt. "I promise."

“Good,” he sighs, and his lips press themselves into the crown of your head, your forehead, your cheek, anywhere that’s easily in reach as if he needs to mark every inch of your skin as his to protect. “I’ll make some calls in the morning, see where we can go from here. Once I’m done, I’ll help you file the police report. Can we…does that sound okay?”

You nod against his shoulder, rubbing your face into the soft fabric of his shirt. It’s never ceased to entertain you that the clothing he wears when he goes out in to beat the shit out of people is some of the softest fabric you’ve touched. “I can do that.”

He exhales loudly against you, the air brushing against your ear. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart.” He pulls back, eyes shifting slightly across the muted gray of your kitchen counters, landing blindly on the one over your shoulder. He tilts your head back with a finger under your chin, and leans in to lay a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Come lay down with me?”

You scrunch up your nose before a small smile lands briefly across your face. “You need a shower and to have that cut looked at.”

“But after?”

“After.”

[tillystealeaves]

Steddie Fic- Part 1: Breakup

I don't know what to title this thing, but it's a 3 part story and this is Part 1. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Or read it on AO3.

Steve stood in the living room, not knowing what to do with himself. Eddie would be here soon. Eddie was working that day, at the music store in the town next to Hawkins (where people didn’t care so much about the Hawkins rumor mill), and his shift ended at 4, which meant Eddie would be getting to Steve’s house by around 4:30 because Steve had invited him over, and it was 4:15 now, so Eddie should be here any minute, and if it was a normal night Steve would probably be pulling something out of the oven but tonight-

Steve stopped himself. He took a breath. He couldn’t allow his mind to go on tangents like that or he was going to word-vomit all over Eddie.

Eddie, who would be arriving any minute.

Steve had thought for a long time about whether he wanted to have this conversation in his house. If he wanted the memories of this to be burned into his mind every time that he walked through his living room. But his house was already full of so many ghosts. Barb sat perpetually at the edge of his pool, his mother cried over a glass of wine at the kitchen counter, and his father was… everywhere. Always telling Steve how everything he did was somehow a stain on the Harrington name.

Besides, the alternative was to do this at Eddie’s house and that… he couldn’t do that. Eddie had been living for less than a year in the new double-wide trailer supplied by the government. His old home, even if it hadn’t been ripped to shreds, would have been forever filled with the ghost of Chrissy. Steve couldn’t make bad memories for Eddie in his new one. (Though he was fairly sure that Eddie wouldn’t be particularly haunted by this conversation anyway.)

And then there was the fact that over the past eight months since the Spring Break from Hell, Eddie’s new trailer had come to mean something to Steve. It felt like… home. Like the way a home should feel, in the way his own never had. It felt lived in, even though it was new. With Wayne’s mug collection and replacement posters tacked up on Eddie’s wall. With music playing or the TV on mute in the living room, coffee brewing in the kitchen because between Eddie’s and Wayne’s work schedule, it was always breakfast time for someone. Steve had felt welcomed there. Safe. Like he belonged. He refused to poison those memories for himself with what was about to happen.

“Stevie?”

Eddie’s voice pulled Steve from his thoughts. He wondered if Eddie had just let himself in or if he’d been knocking for minutes with no answer. Well, Steve figured he could always blame his damaged hearing if Eddie complained about waiting too long.

“Hey Eds.”

Eddie was smiling, warm and easy. Steve tried to freeze the moment in his mind. Sometimes memories were getting lost inside his head- the doctors said it would continue to happen, a side effect of too many head injuries. But Steve swore to himself that he would never let his brain lose this image of Eddie so happy just from arriving at Steve’s house.

Almost as soon as Steve had made a note to remember Eddie’s smile, it vanished. Suddenly, Eddie looked concerned. He approached Steve and put his hands on his shoulders. His long fingered hands, warm, with calluses that that had ghosted over Steve’s arms, his back, his hair- Steve bit the inside of his cheek and pulled himself back into the moment. “What’s up, Steve? You look… less like a ray of sunshine than usual. Something wrong? Is it a migraine?”

Steve stepped back, outside of Eddie’s grip. “No, my head’s fine. I just… can we talk for a minute?”

Eddie sank down on the couch and immediately began fiddling with his rings, his head angled so that his hair was falling in front of his face. “Yeah, of course we can. Um… did I do something wrong?”

His voice sounded so small. Gods, Steve didn’t know if he would be able to do this if Eddie was going to be sad. The whole point was to make Eddie happy- not tonight, of course. Steve knew tonight would sting. But it wouldn’t hurt Eddie. And in the long run, Eddie would be happy. He would be-

“Stevie? You’re sort of scaring me, baby. Did something bad happen? Like, Upside Down bad?”

“No,” Steve answered quickly. He rushed to the couch and sat down, putting his hand reassuringly on Eddie’s knee. (He ignored the voice in his head whispering that this might be the last moment that they touched.) “No, it’s nothing like that. I just-” He had to just do it. He had to put words to what he wanted least in the world, but what he knew was the right thing. “I think we need to stop this thing between us.”

Steve dared to glance up at Eddie, but found that he couldn’t see anything of his expression. His right hand pulled his hair across his face and into his mouth while his left hand fiddled frantically with the rips on his jeans. “Okay.” Eddie’s voice was thick. Was he going to cry? Steve didn’t think this would make him cry. “If that’s what you want, of course, ba- Steve. But is there anything I can do to fix it? I mean, could you maybe tell me what’s not working for you and I can do it better?”

“You didn’t do anything, Eds,” Steve assured him. Eddie had to know that this was absolutely not his fault. It was Steve’s fault, 100%. “It’s just… when two people want different things out of a relationship, someone’s going to end up unhappy. And I don’t want to ever make you unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy!” Eddie protested. He looked up and even through his hair, Steve could see his eyes were red and wet. Steve looked down at the floor. “Are you unhappy? What am I doing to make you unhappy?”

Steve swallowed past the burning lump in his throat. He really hadn’t expected Eddie to put up a fight. He had expected him to agree, maybe give him a parting hug or maybe say that he was relieved that Steve hadn’t made Eddie have to do this himself. He had hoped that Eddie would say they could still be friends, or at minimum be cool with each other for the sake of the kids. But if this is what Eddie needed from him, he could spell it out.

“You’re not doing anything to make me unhappy. Look, I talked to Robin about this a lot, trying to figure out the best way to handle it. She said I couldn’t keep avoiding it by just wishing that we could stay this way forever. Sometimes, one person in a relationship just expects more out of it than what it is. And if they don’t talk about it, that person is going to get their heart broken. And the other person is going to get sick of them. I don’t want that for us. I don’t want resentment or hurt feelings or- I just think we should stop this where it is. It’s been so great, Eddie.” Steve heard his voice break at that; he hoped Eddie hadn’t noticed. “It’s been really good, but I think we should stop it here before it turns into something bad.”

With his eyes still pointed resolutely at the carpet, Steve could only feel Eddie nod. He heard Eddie take a deep, shaky breath and then felt the couch lift as Eddie stood. “Okay, yeah. Message received. I’ll get out of your hair. Um… bye, Steve.”

Steve didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Even with his terrible hearing, every step Eddie took towards the door reverberated through his head and his chest and his heart. He stayed motionless, barely breathing, as the front door squeaked open and clicked shut. It was only when the sound of Eddie’s rickety van faded that he fell forward onto the couch- still warm from Eddie’s body- and allowed himself to sob.

Read the next part: Interlude 1

[missmarveledsblog]

I'LL SHOW YOU DIFFERENT (Joel miller x reader ) part 5

summary : peach is dealing with the aftermath of knowing she is found as joel and the gang convince her to stay around , a letter from the prison shows how big of a cruel joke life really is and her dad has a visitor first time in over a decade. tommy shows an even softer side.

warning : mentions of DV , some fluff and sweet moments too , allusions to past child abuse . no outbreak au . grammatical and spelling errors not proofread

previous part

Three little word throughout the space of time  could have  a big impact . three little words could shift a persons mood and demeanor.  When a heart is full its those three little words “ i love you” that could cause someone to brighten their day or crumble to the ground. It was those three little words of “ i hate you “ that could sting and break a heart or cause an eye roll if said in jest  .  it was such a power thing from such a small string of words and she knew it all to well . looking up at the wall  the paint almost looked like blood that dripped down each letter , she could feel the anger , that hate as  if it was the words being screamed out at her.  Projecting off on the drywall and enveloping her in an almost python like squeeze cutting off the air flow  and leaving her breathless  , deafened by letter nothing around her made a sound like someone hit the mute button .  the pounding and pumping of her heart felt like it was going to come out her throat . three simple words had such an effect on her she barely even registered joel miller at her side or the fact he was talking til he pulled her away from the red painted  “ i found you”. 

“ i’ll check around the house” was all he said once he put her sitting down it was only then she realized he completely removed her from the living room altogether .  her ex husband was in the little solace she had built for herself , he knew where she was and even though the sheriff told her all this she least thought she was going to have more time but yet luck was never on her side . it was like life itself was against her making her seem helpless no matter what it was she did . 

“ house is clear come on , you can grab some clothes and come to ours til we figure it out” joel said softly seeing the fear  riddled in her features. 

“ i have to go joel , i can’t stay around if  i do he could hurt you guys or my grandfather” it killed him how small she was , how months of cracking that almost titanium shell and it was fully back. 

“ you run , he wins darling i know your scared or shit maybe i don’t but you ain’t had what you did before” he crouched before her. “ you got us and i know for a fact we ain't gonna let anything happen” he took her hand in his hating how she tense up once more . “ now get your things you can stay til we get this son of a bitch , we can’t keep you safe if you run” he said softer knowing whatever or so however bad it was it was even worse her being alone to deal with it all . 

“ it’s too dangerous to have me around what if you .. you all get hurt because of me” she asked finally the emotions breaking through . 

“ we ain’t scared peach” a voice called only for her to see tommy standing at kitchen door along with her grandfather. “ i was in military sweet girl i can take a city boy anyday “ he winked.

“ please don’t leave i just got you back” her grandfather spoke and instantly it broke her and the years of pent up emotions poured out . tears of old and new feeling broke free  and down her cheeks  . she didn’t want to leave not ever for once she had more to her life , the haunted memories of her past now dulled out in away by the new ones , one that radiated a warmth she had never felt . 

“ you ain’t running we won’t let it happen we love ya too much” tommy patted her back a memory from his own past coming to the surface on this time it would end different he was going to make sure of it. 

“ tommy i gotta drop the girl home be back later you help peach out bring her things over , i’ll get that pizza you like on way home so don’t plan on leaving “ joel hugged her as she gave small nod . 

“ come on peach we are going to roommate” tommy smiled taking her hand leading her out the room . 

“ i can take her to mine?” john spoke up . 

“ she’ll be ok at ours he comes near , he’ll regret it more” was all joel said . 

“ dad is peach ok “ sarah asked softly the whole car trip was almost silent bar the music coming from the radio even ellie kept her mouth closed. 

“ she going through hard time is all , she be fine” he smiled sadly not knowing how much  he could tell . 

“ she gonna be safe right , he’s not gonna hurt her?” ellie spoke up honestly it was probably the longest she was quiet. 

“ yeah she’s gonna be safe, her ex husband wasn’t nice man and followed her here  but we will help her get this mess sorted”. 

“ i don’t understand it … how can such an angel like peach have to go through all this , she never done anything wrong and yet it’s like she being punished “ sarah sighed sadly . 

“Sometime life is hardest for the one who don't deserve it but we will all make sure she does after this whole thing”. 

“ you finally gonna ask her out “ ellie perked up . 

“ you stare at her like she hangs the moon and stars” sarah explained looking at her confused father. 

“ when the time is right and it’s not right now” he said knowing it wasn’t going to happen , she wouldn’t go for guy like him. 

“ she’s already a better mom” ellie huffed . 

“ jesus christ your getting hundred steps ahead here”  he felt his cheeks flush and he throat drying up . 

“ you think she would let us call her mom” ellie asked. 

“  what if she says no” he asked. 

“ she not gonna say no” sarah giggled. 

Peach walked into the miller house , place she’d been so many times before and yet it was o different this time , her mail in her hand feeling ridiculous to even think of such a thing in the situation she was dealing with. 

“ you’ll be staying in girls room so go up whenever you are ready ok  this place is your home til and even after all this is done with “ tommy patted her back . 

“ this is bad idea you don’t know him like i do , he should of been in prison for attempted murder and yet he got community service and a  suspended sentence” she scoffed .

“ this ain’t new york kid once we get him he’s going away for long time” the sheriff came to view. 

“ you got to be kidding me” she laughed although there was no amusement from her voice as she looked down at the envelope . 

“ whats wrong?” 

“ one monster hunting me down and another writing to me  i’m going to have a shower do me a favor burn this “ she threw it to the floor seeing the prison as the return address . 

“ he got some nerve” her grandfather growled. 

“  he apparently remorseful now he’s sober parole coming up ” sheriff scoffed . 

“ what am i  missing here tommy asked confused as looked between the two men. 

“  her daddy trying to write her to get her to come to his parole hearing” john looked at the envelope seeing the same one he had in his dash . 

“ i’ll put it up , she wants to destroy it we let her , she wants to read her well then we let her , she ain’t been in control of her life for so long it’s time to let her know she is” tommy picked it up putting it in the cabinet .

He wasn’t expecting it almost decade in here not once did he ever get a visitor that wasn’t his lawyer. A small part of him hoped she would come. Yet when he walked into the room he saw a man standing in a suit  , fancy looking man .  

“ and you are ?” he asked sitting down. 

“ mr . L/n, my name is nathan barnes , i’m a friend of y/n  i need you help? “  the man stood everything screamed lying prick , spending  day in and day out with scum he could tell this was one of them. 

“ what about y/n she ain’t visit me  , she probably hoping for day i die” he gruffed. 

“ she back in town and i was wondering best way to get her … get to her” this man and fake ass smile . 

“ what you want with my little girl and who are you really don’t try kid me son” he crossed his arms . 

“ smart man huh well she’s my wife real names david  i wanna get my wife back we had a major fight she took my money and everything but i don’t care about all that i just want my girl back” he sighed crocodile tears falling down his face it was almost laughable. 

“What makes you think i will help you or her” her father scoffed . 

“ because you deal with her the best and you help me out i’ll help you out” 

“  you can get me out of here?” he asked almost surprised . 

“  if you help me” david smiled brightly . 

“ i would rather spend my days in solitary than hurt my daughter any more . GUARDS bring me back to my cell and if this fuck even tries visit me about have him arrested for harassment” he stood watching that shit eating grin falling off his face . 

“ i will get her” he yelled. 

“ and you will regret it”  her father yelled back heading out the door   first thing he done was headed for the phone trying to call lawyer pass the message on but still it felt  nothing.  He found himself walking down to the cells watching as they all bowed their heads  , he made sure he wasn’t nothing in life even in prison he made sure he was going to be something . 

“ hey henry what can i do you for?” 

“ i’m pulling in that favor and  you aint the only one gather the others up i’m cashing it all in today” was he said heading to her own cell for once in his life he was going to do the right thing . 

She felt no better even after the hot water hit her skin , it was all too much , all a nightmare she kept reliving over and over again . now she felt her stomach felt both sick and well also so empty  dressing quickly she padded her way down the stair it was only tommy sitting at the table beer in his hand . 

“ your grandpa coming by in morning bring you first day to work , keep your mind off of all this working in the office and well not leaving you alone here” he said as she sat down. 

“ making sure i stay” she nodded. 

“ well that too but ain’t no self of running or you’ll be running your whole life and really would that be better” he asked softly. 

“ if meant others are safe then yes it would be better what if he hurts you or joel or my grandfather” she asked . 

“ he’s not , he type that won’t stand to a man  , he makes himself feel big by hitting women i’ll cut him to size if he even tries it “ he said so easily. 

“ why you doing this for me” she asked . 

“ because even in short time darling we love you and you are family we don’t let family face trouble alone” he smiled holding her hand.  “ first when i saw you i wanted to take you out … just listen but then i got to know you and shit you became one of my favorite people and we wouldn’t work as anything but friend or maybe  siblings or something those eyes light up not for me i know that but i love you all the same and you deserve love in you life whether its platonic or otherwise  and i don’t care if it’s the president of united states or queen of england no one hurts the people i love” he smiled. “ plus i ain’t the miller you want” he teased watching her eyes widen . “ look maybe when time is right and this is all over you could tell him that” he added. 

“ i think it better if i just stay single for rest of my life” 

“ maybe it time you took control of your life , yet it’s fucked and ain’t going to be easy but their something in you peach a strong soul and don’t tell me different because life has kicked you to the ground and you get up each time  , you get the wind knocked out of you and you breathe through it  if that aint strongest person  i don’t know what is “ he squeezed his hand. 

“  you know tommy miller you are going to make some girl out there very lucky one day and even though i  seemed to have the worse luck i seemed to lucked out when you and joel came into it” 

“ nah we are lucky one now enough of the sappy shit lets get watch a movie joel should be home soon” he patted her shoulder. 

part 6

taglist : @harriedandharassed @missladym1981

[feralbutfluffy]

60: Aziraphale

Chapter 60 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*****

When Aziraphale reentered the bedroom, it was to find Crowley sprawled in the armchair, the bottle of whisky dangling from between his knuckles.

"Did you tuck them in and send them off to sleep with a celestial hymn?" Crowley asked in a gently mocking tone, his head thrown back over the armrest as he watched him walk in.

“Don’t be silly,” Aziraphale said, then sighed. “I may have miracled the sofa a small bit deeper than before. Do remind me to change it back in the morning.”

Crowley nodded agreeably. "How's Muriel?"

"They're asleep," he replied, and chose to ignore the way Crowley's eyebrows arched at his answer.

"Does Muriel even know how to sleep?"

“I may have helped them along. Just this once.”

Crowley stared, and in a sing-song voice said, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you Holy zolpidem…”

Aziraphale made a quick gesture and Crowley slipped sideways off the armrest as the chair abruptly widened to become a settee. He swept the hem of his jacket back and sat down as Crowley struggled to right himself.

“Not very kind, toppling an invalid,” Crowley grumbled as he pulled himself back up against the armrest, bottle still clutched in his left hand.

He folded up his long legs to tuck his feet - still clad in the incongruous yellow socks - right next to Aziraphale’s thigh. The shoes had been kicked off and lay abandoned in the thick carpet, looking a bit like sinking ships in a calm sea.

“Obviously I did not drug Muriel,” said Aziraphale primly. “I only ensured they will have lovely dreams for the next eight hours.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up again. “Eight hours?” 

“Isn’t that the recommended amount?”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

“Yes. Well,” Aziraphale shifted guiltily, “I just thought you might be sorely in need of a rest-”

Crowley’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Oh?”

“... You know, without interruptions-”

“Of course,” said Crowley, nodding solemnly.

“... But I don’t think we could rightly send them back to the bookshop in such a state-”

“Certainly not.”

“... So a minor miracle seemed like the best option,” he finished lamely. 

“All sounds eminently reasonable,” Crowley said, and snapped his fingers. The bedroom door swung closed with a muted sound, and Aziraphale felt as if the closing of the door rather had the effect of turning the room into another plane of existence, a bit like when Crowley had stopped time during the-Armaggeddon-that-wasn’t…

Only the opposite. That place had been an empty white plain, sterile and cold, bright and endless. 

This, on the other hand, was a bedroom - with a bed - wrapped lovingly in velvet. It was decadent, and comfortable, and beautiful, with the stars that glittered in the warm, low light.

Like being cloaked, he thought, in heavens’ embroidered cloths.

He’d always liked that poem.

Crowley leaned his arm over the side and let the bottle fall from his fingertips. There was a muffled thump as it hit the carpet.

“So…” 

Aziraphale’s thoughts broke apart at the word. Oh, it had been alright earlier, once he’d got started, but now, here, again, after being brought back to reality by Muriel’s presence... His heart sped up, and there was an overwhelming sensation of fluttering in his chest.

Well, he supposed it was hard to break the habit of a lifetime. 

Or, more accurately, the habit of an eternity.

He was a bundle of nerves. His fingers moved restlessly in his lap and he risked a glance at Crowley, who was practically horizontal, shoulders pressed up against the armrest. The former demon was watching Aziraphale through his eyelashes, his expression unreadable.

He looked down again, his gaze drawn to the socks.

Crowley wiggled his toes.

“Really…” huffed Aziraphale half-heartedly, looking away.

Crowley laughed, and the angel's heart swelled at the sound. Aziraphale thought he felt very far away, all of Crowley’s long lean angles lying between Aziraphale and the mouth he’d kissed earlier. He fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

“You look nervous,” Crowley observed, and Aziraphale immediately placed his hands flat against his thighs.

“No,” he said. “Only… it seems more real with Muriel here.”

“Oh? What was it before?”

Aziraphale’s mouth twisted and he looked down at his hands as he tried to sort through his emotions, unable to find the loose thread that would let him unravel them.

Crowley started to nudge him repeatedly with one yellow fuzzy foot and Aziraphale, exasperated after the fifth such nudge, grabbed it and held it fixed against the cushion. The sock felt surprisingly thin between tufts of fuzz, and he could feel the hard contours of Crowley’s foot beneath his hand. He swallowed; it felt strangely intimate to have his fingers curled into Crowley's instep. 

The former demon must have been similarly thrown off balance, because his lips parted and he went unnaturally still.

For a moment there was no sound but the rushing of blood in Aziraphale’s ears, and no movement that he could discern other than that of his chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. He looked down at his hand and forced himself to move his thumb, smoothing a firm line across the top of Crowley’s foot.

Crowley’s foot jerked in his hand.

His heart felt like it was racing at breakneck speed, tripping over itself in his chest.

Something raced up and down his body; It slipped in alongside the electric feeling that was made up of nerves and excitement and fear, and wound its way around it, binding it into a manageable form. It was the thrill of a power he’d previously been afraid to possess.

He miracled his shoes off and into the corner of the room - still tightly laced - and turned his body towards Crowley, pulling his left knee up on the seat cushion, the sole of his foot resting against the inside of his right knee. Then he lifted Crowley’s ankle and placed it down on his calf. 

Crowley was perfectly, inhumanly still. His arms were crossed over his chest now, hands tucked into his armpits in an almost defensive position. His yellow eyes were fixed on him, unblinking, watching with rapt attention. 

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip and placed his thumbs against the arch of Crowley’s foot, ignoring both the ridiculous sock and the slight flinch as he folded his fingers over the top of it.

Crowley made a noise that might have once dreamt of being a question before he abandoned the idea, and Aziraphale pressed in with his thumbs, trying to remember the little he had learned about pressure points during a brief sojourn in China.

Crowley nearly bucked off the chair and he decided he might not actually need to recall the theory of pressure points. He looked up at Crowley to find his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. 

“So sensitive …” he teased. 

Crowley tried to pull his foot away, but Aziraphale held it fast and dragged the tips of his thumbs up the centre of the sole, from the heel to the toes. Crowley’s entire leg jerked at the sensation and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Aziraphale’s fingers grazed the skin above the sock. He pulled at the sock with the fingers of one hand, and taking tight hold of his ankle with the other...

Instantly Crowley rocketed upward, yanking his foot back and tucking it beneath him in a burst of frantic speed. He stayed like that, half-kneeling, his other leg bent in front of him with an elbow hooked around the knee. His whole body appeared to be vibrating, and his eyes were wide and wild.

Aziraphale stared at him. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yess. Yes, yes. Sorry. Yesss. I’m fine,” he said, and Aziraphale frowned at the inadvertent hissing.

“Did I hurt you?”

Crowley shook his head, but his shoulders were tense and he was hunched into himself.

"Was it-?"

Crowley shrugged and hung his head.

Aziraphale leaned forward, trying to read his expression. “Is it… Is it me? Is it the sight of me? Because of the-”

“I don’t know!” Crowley cried, sounding profoundly miserable. “It was fine earlier! I think when you put your hand round my ankle- I don’t know.” He shut his eyes, his hands coming up to grip his hair in distress. “Sorry, sssorry…” 

"Please don't apologise," Aziraphale said softly.

He didn’t know what to do. He wondered if he should leave the room, or if that would feel like abandonment. He wondered if he should move closer, or if that would frighten Crowley right out of his skin. His throat felt so tight he could barely swallow. He slid a finger inside his collar and tugged to loosen his bow tie. His thumb pressed against the knot, and a thought occurred to him.

He froze, indecision written all over his face. 

“Crowley…” he said slowly.

Crowley raked his fingers through his hair and looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes shining. His face was paler than usual, and in the low lighting the cut down his face looked almost black by contrast.

Aziraphale unpicked his bowtie with practiced fingers, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s. 

“Do you think you could trust me?”

“Course. That’s not-”

“I promise not to seize you by the ankle again," he said with a wobbly smile. "Before... you said it was easier when you couldn't see me?”

Crowley nodded dumbly.

Aziraphale slid his bow tie off, passed a hand down over the length of the fabric, and tossed it at Crowley, who picked it up and held it between his finger and thumb, his despair momentarily forgotten in the face of complete bewilderment.

What had previously been tartan fabric in the shape of Aziraphale’s bow tie was now - miraculously - simply a long strip of tartan fabric about four fingers wide. Crowley turned it, examining it closely. 

“Is this another attempt to communicate using tartan? Because if it is, I’m sorry to say I still don’t-”

“No, no that’s not it at all!” 

“Oh.” Crowley closed his fist over the tartan. “Then what-?”

“It’s… for your eyes.”

There was a long moment of silence. Aziraphale felt himself blush as Crowley stared at him. 

“My eyes,” he repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

Crowley opened his fist and stared at the tartan.

“Aziraphale, is this supposed to be a blindfold? ”

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: S8 Mulder Resurrects to a Miracle

Thanks for @goodshipsmulder for the suggestion~.

Mulder finds out about Scully's pregnancy off-screen between Deadalive and Three Words. What was said? How might that have gone down? These ideas are explored in these fics (and a few extras thrown in because.)

Loose chronological order below~

@agentwhalesong/sadandangstyagent’s (Ao3) Could It Be Any Harder? - Chapter 4

""He doesn’t seem to understand anything, so he just stays there, accepting the love that is pouring out of her.""

Post Deadalive Mulder's groggy questions aren't able to be fully answered before he drifts back to sleep.

Agent L's (mulderscreek) 

Duet

""Scully...?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Will I be able to play the piano again?"

"Well, Mulder, I...You don't play piano.""

Post Deadalive Mulder hasn't felt the effects of PTSD yet, cracking jokes and willingly reaching to feel his child move.

Wish List

""I want my life back. Sounds selfish for a guy just raised from the dead, I know, but I've never been one to be satisfied with the status quo.""

Post Deadalive Mulder's impatience-- itching to leave and itching for answers-- is soothed by the balm of Scully's presence.

@lyndsaybones’s (Ao3) Oh

""Like a breath. Like a secret wound opening up. He pulls his hand away.""

Post Deadalive Mulder responds to Scully's announcement with an "Oh."

@leiascully's (Ao3) Part of Us (Tumblr)

""He raises her hand to his lips.  It’s an effort, but he manages.  “I’m here and I’m staying,” he tells her.  “What happened while I was gone?""

Post Deadalive Mulder responds to Scully's announcement with an "Oh", take two.

@msrafterdark (Ao3)

Five Sentence Fics (Tumblr Prompt) - Chapter 2

""She was mute for a moment, and while he easily recognized the softness in her eyes, he also noted a slight glimmer of impatience, as though she was insulted by his not believing this miracle belonged to him.""

Post Deadalive Mulder is shocked with the baby's paternity confirmation.

XScribe/Red's (Gossamer, spookyawards_archivist) Alive

""He looked up, confusion and yet a sense of incredible wonderment lighting up his beautiful hazel eyes. He looked at her and she didn't say a word. He shook his head, looked away, looked back at her again. She smiled, and a hot tear fell down her cheek before she could stop it. He reached out and caught it with a finger.

"Scully?" His voice was small, almost boylike, fearful yet hopeful.""

 Post Deadalive Mulder wakes, surprised and grateful Scully didn't leave. Both of them tear up at her paternity confirmation.

ScullyLikesScience's He is the Master of His Fate, She is the Captain of Her Soul - Chapter 85

""They stared at each other. Mulder counted backwards in his head. Scully hoped for some kind of positive reaction. They were still silently gazing at one another when the door opened, and Mulder’s physician, Dr. Nelson Lim, entered the room to go over some test results.""

The events of Deadalive unfold, which eventually leads to Mulder waking a second time to a whirlwind of confusion... and it all becomes too much.

@scullys-right-eyebrow-txf/ScullysRightEyebrow's The Only Choice - Chapter 40

""Just as a soft smile appeared on his face, Mulder recognized apprehension in her eyes. His brow furrowed in concern and then he took in her appearance. In that moment every thought in his mind melded into a mass of bewilderment and confusion. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything and the fear brought about by his nightmare seemed to crash down on him.""

Post Deadalive Skinner lets the news slip to Mulder; and his death and resurrection and Scully's sudden pregnancy catapult Mulder's PTSD, beginning the cycle of distancing himself.

@alldolleduppink-blog/AllDolledUpPink's Reditum

""I ran every test," she assures him. "I know it's hard to believe, but you are-"

"No," he interrupts her with a shake of his head. "No, I didn't- I wasn't implying that it's not mine. I- why did I leave?""

Post Deadalive Mulder has an immediate and severe PTSD-induced panic attack at the news of his baby; and begins to distance himself from Scully and their child-- terrified he will hurt them both.

Shoshana's

Skin Deep

""Is this real?' Mulder had asked, not certain what to say. Her affirmative response brought a grin to his ashen face, a sparkle to his tired eyes.""

Post Deadalive Mulder is happy about his baby, more worried about what Scully thinks about his scars than her miraculous pregnancy.

After Dinner

""Her unworried countenance told him all he needed to know, all he cared to know at the time.

He'd had worries later, when left alone with his thoughts....

When he was feeling particularly morose one night he imagined she wouldn't need his help at all with the child. That she was humoring him now while he was ill and would be ready to move on once he'd recovered.""

Three Words Mulder and Scully are okay after TLG leave her apartment; and he muses over his worries as they banter their way back to a reestablished relationship.

emmbright/Emma Brightman's (LiveJournal) Low Tide

"""You're really here." She walks toward him, carefully lowering her bulk into the chair and grasping his gray-skinned hand in hers. Her voice holds a note of wonder he's rarely heard before. Invisible men, visions in Buddhist temples, resurrected lovers -- Scully's a tough one to impress.""

Post Deadalive Mulder wakes from a fruitless nightmare of his sister, wanting no visitors but Scully as he plunges back into more.

dee_ayy's Burdened

""It had to be a lie, I decided once they'd left in search of help. A cruel joke.... Maybe Scully hadn't been lying, I had been in a coma, and this woman saying "dead and buried" was some sort of euphemism I wasn't familiar with. It couldn't be literally true, I decided. It just couldn't. It was the only rational explanation that would allow this threat to pass.

And I'd almost managed to convince myself by the time Scully came back.""

Post Deadalive Mulder overhears nurses talking about his resurrection; and the stress of that lie and Scully's pregnancy paralyzes him into numbness... until he sees his apartment.

Erin Blair/Erin M. Blair's Mine

""You know?"

I nodded, looking at her round belly. "I'm very observant, Scully.""

Post Deadalive Mulder tells Scully about the boy in his Amor Fati dream.

greycoupon’s (Ao3, WBM) Baring Fruit

""He was focused on Scully’s face and her hand in his, but not the rest of her. She was just another body in the room. Then one of the nurses asked her to move so they could check his blood pressure and she stood up. He saw all of her.

He saw her very pregnant stomach. For just a minute he couldn’t see or hear and worried he was back on the ship, that this was all a dream."" 

Post Deadalive Mulder's eyes adjust enough to notice the obvious; and Scully lays his immediate fears to rest.

ML/ML_is_me’s (Ao3, Gossamer, DW, Invidiosa) 

Do You Know?

""Come on, Scully, give me a break. Don't keep me in suspense," I rasp. You're smiling a little more broadly now.

"Well, you asked for it," you tell me, and push away from the bed to stand up awkwardly.""

Post Deadalive Mulder hates that he kept his brain disease a secret; but is so happy when Scully tells him about their baby.

Found Faith and Lost Time

""She's carrying a cardboard box in front of her, perhaps hoping to obscure her burgeoning belly for a few moments longer.

I give her a big smile as she catches my eye. "Hi, Mom," I greet her.

She looks a little crestfallen. "You KNOW? Did you know last night?" she asks me.""

Post Deadalive Skinner keeps vigil by goofily happy Mulder's bedside-- who peeked at Scully before anyone knew he was awake and is endlessly pleased with himself about it.

David Hearne's Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

""So, Mulder," Langly interrupted. "this is...what?...your third resurrection?"

"Actually, it's my second. Technically."

"Whatever," Frohike said.""

A post Deadalive crackish experience-- TLG and Maggie and Skinner descend upon Mulder and Scully before they can thoroughly talk about their baby, having a grand time and letting him tell off Krycek on the phone.

Donna’s (Gossamer, mulderscreek) Meeting the Other Man

""His lips moved, but no sound emerged. His eyes returned to her stomach. Her hand came up and smoothed the fabric of her maternity top.

"It's not very subtle is it?""

AU-- Post Deadalive Doggett gets Scully to rest and meets Mulder in the hospital. Jealousy is soothed; and Mulder is overjoyed at the baby news.

Far Away, So Close

""The morning after his revival, Mulder woke up not long after Scully. He looked up at her as she stood and stretched by his bedside. He focused first on her face and then drifted lower. Scully could practically see his pupils dilate as they rested on her belly. He said nothing, however, and then the doctors came in, and the poking and prodding and questions began again.""

Three Words Mulder doesn't feel like a hero-- only a very distantly confused left behind. Scully finally tells him about the paternity later.

@admiralty-xfd’s (Ao3) Culmination - Chapter 12

""They stay together like that for a long time, holding each other. Eventually she gets up to check his vitals and the sight of her enormous pregnant belly hits him like a ton of bricks.

How…?

...The machines are going wild and Scully looks panicked. “Mulder?! What’s wrong?” The last thing he sees is her screaming for assistance and a team rushing in to help as the darkness takes him.""

Post Deadalive Mulder is afraid it's all a dream, that his brain disease will kill him, and that the baby isn't his.

theficisoutthere/pen-paper-aliens/PPA 's

post-"deadalive" I NEED to… 

""His thoughts were interrupted by a soft twitch near his thigh. It was an odd twitch, more forceful than a shiver, but softer than a hit. Something was kicking against him."" 

Mulder's reestablishing relationship is put on pause when he misconstrues Scully's pregnancy as replacement.

44. Puh-lease! ❤️ (Tumblr)

""He didn’t even question her fidelity. As soon as he noticed her bump in the hospital room he softly smiled and said, “So, we’re going to have a baby.” and squeezed her hand when she nodded. He turned his gaze back to the TV above them and the subject was never brought up again.""

Three Words Mulder hasn't mentioned the baby since the hospital until, finally, he and Scully open up about their fears and pain, crying it out together.  

Marguerite’s (Ao3) Always Through the Changing

""Mulder's eyes were huge, with an odd shimmer, but he said nothing as he took the offered sip of water. He kept the cool liquid in his mouth for a moment as if savoring a fine wine. When he swallowed, it was the only sound in the room....

"Whoa, Scully. You been eating all my jello?""

Post Deadalive Mulder struggles with jealousy and anger-guilt-depression about Scully's baby as well as Skinner and Doggett's capable and active presence in his absence.

Lapsed_Scholar’s That Day Is Done

""Most people have nine months to come to terms with their impending parenthood, but he already has something of an unusual situation, and he really wishes he had not started the clock missing and dead. How is he supposed to prepare for this? How is he supposed to support her, or care for an entirely new, helpless person when he’s lost the ability to function as himself?""

Mulder, Scully, and Skinner navigate the rough waters of This Is Not Happening, Deadalive, and Three Words.

Diana Alexander’s Distant and Strange

""If he had been told eight years ago that he would be as protective and possessive as he was of her now, he would have thought the idea insane and preposterous besides. Somehow over the years, it had slowly started happening, so that now he couldn't imagine being any other way in regards to her.

At about that time, he was startled out of his own thoughts by a gentle knock on the door before it was pushed open by an extremely pregnant Dana Scully.""

Post Three Words Mulder has false memories of Scully and their baby, struggling to know what was and wasn't real.

@greekowl87’s (Ao3) Fic: Right Where You Belong (Ao3)

""Ever since he woke up in the hospital from his abduction, Mulder stared at the world through a looking glass. He recognized people, places, things, but inevitably, it wasn’t the same thing that he had left months before. So Scully was patient. She visited him every day, brought him new clothes, sneaked in his favorite food so he didn’t have to eat the bland hospital food, and anything to get him to respond to her. Mulder would just smile politely, maybe glance briefly her pregnant abdomen and turn away before she could get a word in.""

Three Words Scully grounds Mulder in reality.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's

ashes and dust

""It takes effort, but he does move, sliding to the other side. The corners of Scully's mouth lifts, just a little, and she stands to climb in behind him. And that's when he sees it: the curve of her belly under her sweater.

Anything he wanted to say catches in his throat, freezes there. She is pregnant."" 

Post Deadalive Mulder wakes, shocked at Scully's baby. Life moves too quickly for him to process, let alone sink back into. Fortunately, he and Scully are able to iron out the kinks later.

Unnamed (Alt. Tumblr)

""She tries to tell him early the morning after their reunion, but she can tell he’s already noticed. He’s quieter, won’t meet her eyes. “Mulder, I got my miracle,” she tries, immediately regretting the singular pronoun. She slips her fingers through his, and lifts his heavy hand to press against her abdomen. 

“I’m happy for you,” he says, almost devoid of any emotion, and that’s when she feels like she’s lost him again."" 

AU-- Scully moved into Mulder's apartment after his death; and can't figure out a way to tell him after he's resurrected.

And Extra Fics I Thought Belonged Here

@settle-down-frohike's (Ao3) Sensory Integration (Tumblr)

""He’s grateful for her restraint, because he can’t handle sudden movements right now. If she were to approach too fast in his direction, he’d end up curled in the fetal position somewhere in a corner, protecting his vital organs. He doesn’t know how he knows this, he just does. He’s like one giant Pavlovian experiment.

Stimulus.

Response.

Repeat.""

Mulder's PTSD starts to ramp up throughout Three Words; but Scully is, as always, there to be his constant in an upside down world.

soverysesual's Kleptomania - Chapter 1

""Uh, Scully, where are all my clothes?”

She could feel her cheeks burn as she realized that she had never brought them back from her apartment.""

Three Words Mulder and Scully have to retrieve some of his things from her apartment; and he is touched she found and utilized his former IVF baby stash.

Michelle Kiefer's Second Wind

""I wonder if Lazarus found reanimation a chilling experience. Did he shiver and pull his burial shroud closer around him? Was he chilled to the core despite Judah's hot sun? Unfortunately, I have no one with whom to compare notes, as old Lazarus is no longer among the living.

Besides, Lazarus was in the tomb, for what-four days? I could do four days standing on my head. Try three months, buddy, and we'll talk.""

Mulder feels the coldness of death always lingering; but finally finds a personalized heater (and pillar of strength) in Scully.

@amplifyme/wonderland/Lydia Bower's Light Don't Sleep

""Ah, Scully," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We got our miracle, didn't we?"

Her breath caught and she faltered as the tears fell. "Yes... yes, we did."

Mulder and Scully slot themselves back together as he sorts through what are and aren't his true memories, one loving interaction at a time. And, of course, every good day must end with a bedtime story.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[kayssweetdreams]

The Perfect Finale Ch29

Meanwhile, Back in Wonderworld...

Yin was INFURIATED. Not only did he still not know where Wonderworld's heart was, but now he couldn't even return to the real world and find the pink haired brat. He mentally kicked himself. He may have despised the Wonderworld for kicking him out, but he never thought that the theater would actually collapse in on itself. Now it would be impossible to go after them.

He took his anger out on the Tower of Tims, reducing it to nothing but a pile of rubble. "Now Yin. Be patient. They'll have to come back eventually..." Prim said in a monotone voice. He glared at her, but she did have a point. Those who lived in Wonderworld couldn't last long outside of the theater. Sooner or later, they'd have to find another way to get back in. "You're right. In the meantime. I think a little redecorating is in order..." He said, his eyes glowing red once more...

Meanwhile, Back at the Montgomery Home...

Everyone paled at Project X. It would seem that Yin's lust for power had now trickled its way into wanting to control the real world as well. "If I thought that Yin wasn't bad before. I do now..." Haoyu muttered as he gazed at the blueprint for the Purifier. "Well. Let's not lose ALL hope! He still needs the heart. Something of which he still can't find." Emma said.

"Yeah, but WE don't know where the heart is either. And even if we did. We can't get back into Wonderworld right now, with the theater being...out of commission." Yuri said, wording the sentence carefully around Balan and Lance, who were still mourning the loss of the theater. "Um, Guys." Kaylo started, but it was drowned out by Lucy "Darling, even if we could get back to Wonderworld, we're still dealing with a bloodthirsty Yin, who would very much like to destroy us." she said.

"Guys..." Kaylo said again, but once again, her voice was muted by the sound of Cal mentioning "Not only that, but Balan and Lance are no longer maestros, but humans. So we have no way to tip the scales in our favor!" he said. That's when something awoke in Kaylo. She couldn't tell whether it was her own emotions, or the recent events causing her to lash out, but she found herself screaming out

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!!"

In that shout, something extraordinary happened. The room that they had all gathered in had completely transformed into a wide-open field. The group looked on in awe. The only time that had happened was when they were in Wonderworld. It didn't only effect the room as well, as those that lived in Wonderworld felt power surge through them like never before.

The Tims grew fluffier and started chirping with joy, The Negati's symbols began glowing and pulsating, the costumes powers all activated at the same time, the Negabosses actually returned to their normal sizes and forms, even Balan and Lance briefly returned to their true maestro forms. The humans looked in awe at what had happened, when Mei noticed something was happening to Kaylo at the same time.

Her normally pink eyes turned rainbow and gained red music notes, and her pink hair grew longer and fluffier, all the while a rainbow aura surrounded her. Just then, it all stopped. The room returned to normal, and the costumes once again couldn’t use their abilities, as Balan and Lance turned human again. Everyone in the room slowly turned to Kaylo, who's eyes and hair returned to normal as she took a deep breath.

"What I wanted to tell you is. I have the heart of Wonderworld."

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

Lora Jade belongs to @alex-frostwalker

[teecupangel]

Hello! first time asker! I've only just recently got back into AC and you're pretty much the only AC blog I've followed so far (after reading your fantastic Eagle of Alamut fic) but the thing that happened to me seems very much something you'd enjoy.

Which is the Altair Jumpscare I got

to preface, I'm an ad blocker extraordinaire and put that on pretty much everything - except my mobile games. But even so, with how much i adblock the ads i DO get are very generic with very generic characters.

EXCEPT FOR ONE BIZARRE AD

A Tap-Away ad that for some inexplicable reason had Altair in it where he waved his arms like a wacky inflatable tube man and was then promptly sucked into the tapaway cube.

I was so caught off guard that i didn't nab a screenshot and I have been trying and failing to get him to show up again after 3 weeks of doing so much more Wordscape than I've ever had before to no avail😭

But it did spawn the idea of Desmond, with a burner/stolen phone, playing a mobile game and getting that Altair Jumpscare like i did which, with some digging by Rebecca because why the hell is he in an ad??? find a breach in Abstergo's database which they can exploit.

Welcome to the fandom! I hope you enjoy your stay (don’t mind the missing exit).

Aaahhh, Wordscape. I used to play you but then you keep interrupting my time with ads so I deleted you… like all the others who dared to give me ads that takes majority of the screen.

Ngl, I would have tried that game because it dared to show Altaïr to me. Then promptly delete it after a few hours XD

Alright, for this one, we’ll set it during AC2. He’s not that close to anybody yet so he sorta kinda stole Lucy’s burner phone while she was looking.

He always had a knack for stealing, probably the only thing that didn’t make William Miles say ‘again’ more than five times.

It only became so much easier when he started reliving Ezio’s memories.

The Bleeding Effect, right?

That’s what Lucy called it.

Regardless, Desmond figured it would be alright to play it anyway. It had a cell service and he always returned it to Lucy’s bag before she notices anyway.

It was during one of his free time (Rebecca said the Animus was acting fussy for some reason), he figured he can play one more level before they tell him to go back in.

The level wasn’t anything new, kinda funny that one of the words was ‘imprison’ and he got a bonus for trying out ‘prim’ (primo was a no go though and it took a moment before Desmond realized it was because it wasn’t English, fuck, was this the Bleeding Effect as well?. Just when he cleared it, the phone let out a loud static sound.

Which was weird because (1) the game’s audio was set to mute and (2) the phone itself was set to full silent with 0 volume on any kind of media.

They all turned to stare at him and he would have apologized, had he not heard someone shout his name coming from the phone.

“Desmond!”

It was Altaïr.

It could only be Altaïr.

The voice was the same voice he heard back in the Animus.

And he shouting at Desmond, staring at the screen as he slammed one hand against…

The screen?

Golden wisps wrapped around him, dragging him to the darkness behind him as he shouted, “Desmond! Find us! We’re-”

The ‘ad’ disappeared.

And Desmond was now staring at the next level.

He could clearly see one of the words was already filled out for some reason.

‘Breach’.

“Desmond…”

“Sorry, Lucy.” He handed the phone to Lucy as he said, “I was just playing ‘cause I was bored.”

Before Lucy could grab it, he pulled it back and pressed it over his chest as he asked, “Did you guys hear Altaïr too?”

“We heard him but, more importantly, Desmond…” Rebecca glanced at Lucy before she said, “None of us should have any phones at all. Abstergo could track us.”

“It’s not mine!” Lucy immediately said, taking a step back as she said, “I don’t know why you think that’s my phone, Desmond.”

“What?” Desmond blinked, “But… I took this from your bag…”

“Shit.” Rebecca’s eyes widened as she realized, “Did… Did Abstergo plant that in your bag, Lucy?”

“What?” Lucy turned to stare at Rebecca.

“That’s not possible. We’re the ones who brought that bag here, remember?” Shaun reminded Rebecca, “And we’re absolutely sure we didn’t put that phone there.”

“Then… who did?” Rebecca frowned as she mumbled.

“We need to get out of here.” Shaun said, “Desmond, turn that phone off and give it to Rebecca. She’ll check it.”

“Wait-”

“We don’t have to tell Bill about this.” Shaun said, “That phone could have easily given Abstergo our location. We need to move.”

Lucy’s eyes widened when Desmond gave the phone to Rebecca and she said, “We need to destroy it then. To keep us safe!”

“What? No!” Desmond stepped forward to cover Rebecca.

No.

To cover the phone.

“Altaïr just used it to contact me. We need to know how it was able to do that.”

“It’s a risk but he’s right, that Altaïr could have just as easily been a trap but we need to be sure.” Shaun was already taking down the papers on his corkboard as he said, “Come on, Lucy, let’s pack as quickly as we can. We can contact Bill on the move.”

Desmond frowned.

Lucy looked pale.

Was she afraid that Abstergo already knew their connection.

“Hey.” Desmond placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling her freeze. He smiled at her as he said, “We’ll be fine.”

His smile grew as he said, “I’ll kill any Templar coming our way, okay?”

[royal-apple-cider-martini]

*Lucifer, Angel, and Husk quickly make their way out of the hotel, with Lucifer taking the lead in summoning a portal to the Sloth Ring. The trip is swift, and as they step through, they find themselves in the serene, muted environment of the Sloth Ring—a place known for its calm atmosphere and peaceful energy. It’s the perfect location for an expectant demon to give birth, especially one as far along as Husk.*

*Upon arriving at the hospital, they are immediately greeted by staff who recognize them, thanks to the special bands on Husk and Angel’s wrists. These bands allow them to stay in the Sloth Ring without any adverse effects, something that would be impossible otherwise. The staff wastes no time in getting Husk admitted to the maternity ward, where he’s swiftly taken to a private room.*

*Husk is now in active labor, the contractions coming fast and hard. He grips Angel’s hand tightly as he’s wheeled into the room, trying to focus on his breathing as the pain intensifies. Lucifer follows closely behind, a mix of concern and determination on his face.*

Nurse: *gently but efficiently* Mr. Husk, we’re going to get you settled in. You’re doing great. Just keep breathing for me, alright?

Husk: *through gritted teeth* Yeah… breathing… right.

Angel: You’re doing amazing Husk!

*Lucifer moves to the other side of the bed, taking Husk’s other hand. His expression is calm, but his eyes betray the worry he feels.*

Lucifer: Focus on us, Husk. Just a little more, and we’ll meet our baby.

*The nurse quickly sets up the monitors and checks Husk’s vitals, confirming that everything is progressing rapidly. She gives them a reassuring smile*

Nurse: I’ll be right back with Belphegor. It won’t be long now.

*As she leaves, Husk groans, another strong contraction hitting him. He squeezes both Angel and Lucifer’s hands, his breath coming in short, labored gasps.*

Husk: This… this wasn’t supposed to happen today… not like this…

Angel: *whispering soothingly* I know, baby, I know. But we’re here, and you’re doing great. You’re so strong.

Lucifer: *his voice low and steady* You’ve got this, Husk. Just focus on getting through each contraction. We’re almost there.

*The door opens again, and Belphegor enters, quickly assessing the situation. She nods, confirming what they already knew—Husk is in the final stages of labor, and it’s time to start pushing.*

Bel: Alright, Husk, you’re doing great. It’s time to start pushing. On the next contraction, I want you to bear down as hard as you can, okay?

*Husk nods, though his eyes are squeezed shut from the pain. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself. When the next contraction hits, he pushes with all his strength, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat. Angel and Lucifer both offer words of encouragement, their voices blending together in a steady stream of support.*

Angel: That’s it, Husky. You’re doing so good.

Lucifer: Keep going, Husk. You’re almost there.

*Time seems to blur as Husk pushes, each contraction bringing him closer to meeting their baby. The room is filled with a mix of tension and anticipation, the air thick with emotion. Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is really only a short while, Belphegor looks up with a smile.*

Bel: The head’s out, Husk. One more big push.

*With a final, powerful effort, Husk gives one last push, and the room is filled with the sound of a newborn’s cry. The tension breaks, replaced by overwhelming relief and joy.*

Bel: Congratulations! It’s a beautiful baby girl.

*Bel carefully places the baby in Husk’s arms, and both Angel and Lucifer lean in, their eyes filled with love and awe as they gaze at their daughter. Husk, exhausted but elated, looks down at their newborn, tears of joy welling up in his eyes.*

Husk: *softly, his voice choked with emotion* She’s… she’s perfect…

Angel: *smiling through tears* She really is. You did it, Husk. You brought her into the world. You’re amazing.

Lucifer: *his voice thick with pride* Welcome to the family, little one.

[davros42]

Rewatching Classic Doctor Who, some episodes I haven't seen in years, some of the animated reconstructions I haven't seen at all.

And some episodes I haven't seen since last week.

The Daleks (now in glorious Dalekolour™)

I'll warn you up front, I'm generally not a fan of colorizations/special editions/re-edits so expect a bit of a grumpy post. But I'll try to be fair, I promise.

The episode starts with some extremely dodgy animation instead of the original linking material. It also starts with the intro in color, switches to black and white (apart from the credits which are in color) and then fades in the color and... why? An unnecessary and distracting flourish. The Wizard of Oz did this better nearly 90 years ago.

The colorization itself is quite good, I assume they were working off production documents (the Daleks are in their original colors, of course) but regardless the whole palette is a good match for SciFi film and TV of the era, as opposed to something more muted, moody, or modern. Compare and contrast with Forbidden Planet (1956), Queen of Outer Space (1958), or Star Trek (1966). The upconversion to HD video (and 50FPS?) went as well as it could, some parts of the episode are soft focus with lots of film grain but so was the original.

The music and sound design however is terribly distracting. Not an improvement on the original in any way, it's wildly out of place both stylistically and technically, at points directly in competition with the dialogue. Also, the Daleks received extensive re-writes and in some cases were re-voiced by Nick Briggs which is.. odd. I do have to admit enjoying the inclusion of the cloister bell in the initial fluid link sabotage scene, however, even if was a retcon.

Some of the re-editing was ok, some was intrusive. Constant cutaways to b-roll as if you were likely to forget something that happened 5 to 10 minutes earlier (or just might get bored watching a take longer than a minute) were a major distraction. Some of the digital additions, for instance adding footage to the Daleks' screens, worked well. Others, like William Hartnell "dodging" a Dalek beam that hadn't been there 60 years ago were forced. The digitally animated TARDIS dematerialization is actually worse than the original analog video mix effect. The pace is extremely quick now, much of the tension and suspense of the original story is lost along with the "Dals" origin of the Daleks, for better or for worse. But all in all, it's all right I suppose. I wonder if I would have been easier on it if I hadn't just watched the original.

The "And then the story continues.. for 60 years" teaser was nicely done. A great mix of moments from the First Doctor's stories including some tidbits from missing or rarely seen stories. Hat's off to whoever got the clip of the Beatles from The Chase in there.

Next up: The Sensorites, for real this time.

[moonlight-tmd]

okay, I was just scrolling through my feed and came across angst for the bees in transformers who lost their voices. (TFP, KV, CV, etc)

now let's apply that to TFA and see how bee becomes a shell of himself due to it. I've read fics about it (two) and I wanna know your take on it

Boy they really like to give him that angst do they...

Well, i did read those fics and unfortunatelly, i am a weak weak bitch and cannot take his beautiful voice away(for too long).

I think he would get injured- it's probably Starscream cuz i like the idea of him being a sadist, his voicebox gets ripped and crushed, leaving him mute.

Bee would be so devastated- he tries to talk, scream, anything. There is nothing but painful static.

The others- sure, sometimes they wished Bee would just shut up and stay quiet but they never meant it. And now they are forced to watch as Bee essentially becomes depressed. He can't eat solid foods so he's bound to drinking oil and liquid energon. He almost stopped interacting with others because it's so difficult to let them know what he wants to say; charades are too confusing and writing signs is too slow. All is left of his cheerful attitude is a tiny smile he offers sometimes when he and the others (are trying to)have fun.

Sentinel is the worst, he is oddly untouched at the scout's misery. He straight up says it's good that he shut up when he's not around. Optimus has ended whatever was left of his friendship with Sentinel long ago, but it seems like Sentinel never acknowledged Optimus saying anything- like he's above what the failure of a Prime is saying to him.

They are stuck like this- Bee hanging on by a thread that is threatening to snap at any moment and the others desperately trying to hold onto Bee and help him out of this Pit.

Bee is crafty so one time a radio breaks and he tried to fix it. Static spills over garbled words whenever he's trying to tune it, it remind his of something... He fixed it at last, the static briefly present whenever the channel is switched and songs or radio news play, tuning in and cutting sentences, almost making a new one- That gives Bee an idea.

He spend a a whole week trying to get his own radio to obey him. The others are so surprised when Bee answers one of their questions with cut up song lyrics and words from the radio, but they are very happy- Bee has started to look up, slowly but surely. The amount of relief they felt when Bee used the laughting sound effects to mimic his own laugh. He's still sad that it's not his own voice, but that is the closest he can do.

I imagine it was Longarm that took mercy on the scout- they were good friends, Longarm had grown fond of Bee as a friend. It hurt him to see Bee so sad- just like in boot camp when Wasp tormented him. So- Longarm, being the Data Master, steals Bee's medical info and other stuff and contacts Swindle about it. He has everything- parameters, size, settings, type, even various voice samples from when he and Bee talked to find the perfect voicebox to replace his missing one. Bee might have infected Longarm with his stubbornness cuz he's determined to make Bee talkative again.

Longarm comes to Ratchet and gives him the necessary parts and materials to fix Bee, he avoid any questions like 'where did you get this?' and leaves. Ratchet assumes it because he's a Prime with connections.

Bee has to force-refresh his processor to comprehend what Ratchet just said to him. He goes under a surgery and it's succesful.

He could not stop crying, his voice was back. Primus he wanted to say so many things but this was so ovewhelming he couldn't stop ugly sobbing.

The whole day he said everything that was on his mind- i mean everything. No filter to separate his thoughts from what he wanted to actually say, he spilled so much answering questions and how he felt the others didn't know if they were trembling from happiness or the sheer worry about the minibot.

After that, whenever Bee is annoying, the moment they want to say 'shut up' or something like that, they get flashbacks to when Bee was mute. They never told him to shut up ever again- instead they try to manouver their situation to make Bee go do his own thing and leave them to do that important thing they were doing.

To say the least, that situation was traumatizing to all of them.

And of course, Bee couldn't help but tackle-hug Longarm and repeat 'thank you' over and over again the next time he visited.

[tokillamockingbird427]

hello :)

as it is literally night while im writing this(totally not the only time actually free in my room/desk and go through my mess of thoughts) , i was thinking deeply about a logan (voice) hc that i decided to share here. im not too sure if this was talked about already a LONG time ago but feel free to let me know :D

mainly, it revolves around if he gets comfortable enough and decided to talk around other people besides hesh & elias, because well, social gatherings are scary. but even between elias & hesh, i feel as though he really just uses sign language unless its in a place he truly feels comfortable in talking in.

but getting more into the mans voice, i feel as though he mainly speaks in a whisper, or if anything is a soft speaker. a soft speaker with a raspy, soothing voice with a bit of an accent if we add ur head cannon of hesh & logan being of mixed race bc of mama walker ! (if we add in the (multilingual) hc from my first/second ask, his voice would of course be with a way more deeper accent.) and the reason why i chose him being a soft spoken speaker was mainly cause the walkers kinda generally have a soft spoken voice when theyre not yelling :). (i noticed that when i watched a 4 hour play through for the second time to really analyze the characters for fun.)

now, if we really think about it, his voice is pretty good to fall asleep to and is generally shocking(but not like keegans…his is a whole ‘nother story like your post on it lmao.). and if we add how hes a menace, its something that really catches you off guard when the usually quiet guy is talking so lowly of you with a soft raspy voice.

but ofcourse if we talk about all the ghosts here, hesh would be the main contributor to have him talk more, as the supportive older brother, with elias also following in. not too sure what the other ghosts would do besides surprised pikachu face or being excited over the fact logans starting to get comfortable with them cause i know that shit took long.(i feel like some walruss moments may also happen...)

(my main boost of energy to write this was listening to some S.O.A.D(system of a down) and my very mixed up playlist lmao)

—🎧 anon

Hullo! Good to see you again. I think you did talk about it but only a bit, so I'm very happy to hear you elaborate!

Yes, I agree. Depends on the people he's talking to AND the environment. Like the mess hall? No thank you. Just chilling in his room with Hesh? He'll talk his brothers ear off. (Funny scenario, a Ghostie becoming very confused when they hear two people talking in a room when there's only Logan+Hesh in there because they outright forget Logan's not 100% mute. No briancells for these guys.)

Oh, fun fact, and a less mentioned HC I have, I like to give Logan a tablet for speaking when he encounters people who don't know ASL. Has quick words button but also a place he can just type. And sound effects! He fucking loves the sound effects. I have this HC because he seems to just have a tablet on him a LOT in the game, so why not for speaking purposes?

You and me be shaking hands over combing the game for details lmao. Though tbh I didn't think to focus specifically on their voices, so I now have a reason for another playthrough! >:D

Logan speaks like he's doing asmr lol. But less joking, yes yes, very much I like. I like think Logan might have some gravel in his voice, but unlike Keegan (Majority gravel+bass) his is more raspy than gravely. (And his voice isn't as deep.)

Elias and Hesh being around could be what helps Logan acclimate to speaking around the Ghosts more. They're "safe places" for him, so it could start with him talking to them specifically around the Ghosts, which then transitions to him speaking to the other Ghosts directly.

I think Keegan, being similar in the sense that he's quiet (but not as quiet at Logan) would be the first Logan really speaks too. Which is absolutely something Keegan would love to brag about. He's the favorite after Elias and Hesh and the rest of you can SUCK IT! It's also a tell of how comfortable Logan is with Keegan. He's an outlier because he's not only the first Ghost Logan gets comfortable speaking to, he's also the record holder for how quickly Logan starts speaking to someone. Which may or may not have something to do with the crush Logan has on him.... ehehehe.

[hiccupologist]

WIP time! plus a massive TRIGGER WARNING for an opaque reference to vague canonical disordered eating, which is fetishized in a really complicated way because the writer is a lifelong ED patient, but it's like, hopefully sweet and not weird and triggering tho, but you know. be careful and all that. disconnected chunks are separated by dividers bc I write in outline + discovery bridging style

petrigrof, FA/wg/stuffing/stomachache kink, light angst, hurt/comfort vibes

  Simon pressed his head deep into the pillow to block out both the sound of his alarm clock and of a quiet, sickly burp that he couldn’t manage to hold back. Betty was already getting up, and he would rather pretend to be asleep than answer questions. Interacting with anyone at all was risky at the moment, but the last thing he needed was to get someone so close to him involved in this mess.

  He thought she would just leave and go downstairs to start working on the slide presentation she’d been compiling from a recent batch of archaeological rubbings, because she almost made it off the rug before she turned back. “You feeling okay, honey? You want me to let you sleep in?”

  “Mhm.” He mumbled, still buried in a slough of bedclothes. “I’m fine, I just had a long night.” This was technically true. He just wasn’t mentioning the part about methodically consuming an entire apple pie from the 24 hour grocery store.

  She rubbed his shoulder affectionately through the blanket. He didn’t even open his eyes, not willing to meet her gaze this early into his self-flagellation stage. Betty was so perfect. Even her imperfections were endearing, not like spontaneously turning into an irritable crazy person when ambient noise got too loud, or needing to have a private cry after receiving constructive criticism, or. The thing that was currently happening.

  “Okay, Simon. You get some rest and I’ll check on you later.”

[...]

  “It’s not just stress-eating. Well, it is, but-” He swallowed roughly. Hopefully after he surmounted this peak, his anxiety would spill into some kind of catharsis. “I do it a lot, when my life isn’t going well. Or I feel like it isn’t.” It’s just horrible the whole time. Crap. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m going to be sick, I’m going to cry, I’m-”

  “Shhh. Simon.” Now she looked almost equally upset, and he felt even worse, but her tone was comforting and she leaned forward to hold him. “You don’t have to tell me if you can’t. I think I already know.”

  “How?” He didn’t mean to sound so accusatory; his voice cracked into a sob at the end of question. He was being held by the love of his life, he was being published academically again, he even felt like he had finally conquered the invasive ivy in their front yard, but he honestly felt like his life was falling apart. He’d gone to so much trouble to hide that diseased, malformed part of his personality from her. He thought maybe he could handle telling her, but if she’d known for God knows how long, he just wanted to die.

  She’s rubbing little circles in his back, seemingly unphased by what he feels is effectively a temporary bout of insanity. Her voice sounded hesitant. “Oh, babe. I… I can tell when you’re so full it’s hurting you. We don’t spend that much time apart.” At this statement he gave a muted wail of abject agony, and she pulled him in tighter. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve been wanting to talk about it. I’m not being judgemental, I promise. I just don’t want you hurting your stomach.”

  Simon sniffed, head still resting against her body. He didn’t feel comfortable yet, existing in a reality where Betty knew all of him, even the raw sensitive embarrassing bits. His deepest existential fears, his childhood dreams and traumas, sure, he’d spill those out for her like cutting roe from a salmon. But not this part. “I’m going to start fasting again. I did it before when-”

  “No.” She replied, gently but firmly.

  “But I hate losing control like this!”

  “I know your first instinct is to try and grab the steering wheel and fix everything, but…” She sighed. “Look. It’s not my story to tell, but I kind of know about this stuff. It’s like one of those finger tube things, or the barbs on a fishing hook. Like… you overeat because you feel bad, right? So logically, if you beat yourself up about food, isn’t that gonna make you eat more?”

  He looked up at her. “But… but if I don’t do anything, I…” In a much quieter voice: “...I’ll gain so much weight.”

  “That’s not the worst thing in the world, right?” She brushed a lock of hair away from his damp forehead, smeared with tears and panic sweat. “And anyway, it would be better for you to gain fifty pounds than a hundred pounds, right?”

[...]

  “How’s this?” She asked, her voice almost lowered to a whisper. Her cool hand caressed the soft underside of his stomach, where the bulge of his added fat connected with his sensitive upper pelvic area. He shuddered, but not from discomfort. It almost felt like he was being tickled, a visceral, giddy feeling in his guts. “Do you like me to touch your little belly?”

  “Y-yes, I like it very much.” He swallowed. He couldn’t believe she was so brave as to say such a thing out loud, not only the word “belly” but the entire fucking concept. How was it possible for someone’s brain not to short circuit and melt, forming those words? He knew it was because he was messed up really bad in the sex part of his brain, but still, it was hard to comprehend.

  “You know, I’ve always thought it was cute when your tummy gets a little round.” She kissed his neck, and he squirmed despite his best efforts to retain a scrap of dignity. “You’re not as fun to cuddle when you’re all skinny. I remember when you got that horrible stomach bug, it made me worry about you so hard.” She leaned down next to him and switched to a lying position on the bed, then reached out to continue giving his abdomen loving touches. A hand stroked the top of his belly, running over the plush pad just under his sternum. “But when you have some extra stuffing in you, you’re very soft and huggable.”

  He could feel some of his terror melting into arousal, although perhaps that was too simplistic a term; Betty could make him feel flustered, a strange combination of sexual desire and the kind of joyous validation you’d get from someone giving you an unexpected compliment. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed. He was still working on not shutting down due to shyness when she got explicitly affectionate with him. He did his best to form coherent sentences. “That feels so good to hear, Princess, you wouldn’t even believe… thank you.” He sometimes worried his pet name for her displayed too much of his id. It certainly hadn’t been his intention, but he’d come to realize the word was embarrassingly close to “mistress”. Deep down he worried that everything he did to fulfill his role as a man in their relationship was a lie. But it was also sort of… wishful thinking, really. He sometimes wished he and Betty could trade places as boyfriend and girlfriend; not genders, they would be the same people, but she would be the one expected to provide for him and make decisions, and he would simply love her and support her and be safe and protected. “I really want to believe the things you told me earlier. About, eh, eating. But I’m just so worried about losing control. If this is what it’s like when I’m trying to use my willpower…”

  “Trust me on this. We can even research it at the library together, okay?” She had stopped moving her hands now and settled them on his body, one draped over his waist and one folded against his back, pressing into it. “Mm. Do you want me to say something a little silly? For your thing?”

  “Oh! By- by all means.”

  She nestled against the crook of his neck, whispering. “Even if somehow your worst case scenario happens and you just keep eating, and you get really big,” she kissed his cheek, “I’ll still love you and want to hang out with you because you’re my cute, smart, awesome boyfriend who I’m going to marry no matter what size you are.”

  Simon released a shaky breath. “That’s incredibly romantic.”