she makes him whole

anonymous asked:

What happened to Tim Soret?

Basically, the guy is developing what looks like a kick ass cyberpunk noir game called The Last Night.  He got an E3 (I think) spotlight and his trailer was shown to a massive crowd and everyone loved it.

So cue Zoe Quinn, likely spurred on out of spite toward somebody’s success.  She dredges up Tim Soret’s posts from years ago, with him making pro-gamergate statements.  

She did the whole ‘I’m a victim’ song and dance and Neogaf, being the Listen and Belief dipshits they are, crucified Tim Soret in Quinn’s name, doing everything but calling his game worse than the holocaust.

In the end Tim and his company basically have to beg for forgiveness for his past statements in order to save face and even then it wasn’t enough for Neogaf.

Oh my god, in last night’s Bob’s Burgers, Bob takes Gene to a laser light rock show at the planetarium (super important to Bob, because it was his favorite when he was a teenager, and this is the last night before they’re closing the exhibit because it’s old and no one goes anymore, also it’s Bob’s birthday), and Gene has no idea what he’s in for, but he gets pumped for it anyway ‘cause Bob’s so excited about it, and finally they get in there and they’re watching it, and Gene has a sensory overload and kinda starts freaking out ‘cause he can’t handle it, so Bob takes him out and they sit in the car for a bit.  Gene’s angry because Bob didn’t tell him it would be so loud and scary, so Bob offers to play the album for Gene at a normal volume, and Gene starts to enjoy it, so he reclines the seats, takes out the cigarette lighter, tells Gene to pretend it’s a laser, and starts drawing in the air, explaining the plot to him (it’s like a full on Pink Floyd or Rush-esque rock opera about a bunch of robot overlords telling rockers that they can’t play music anymore, and one Rebel rising against them).  Gene gets really into it and decides he wants to see the finale of the laser show (which Bob regards as a life-changing experience), so they sneak back into the planetarium (there’s no re-entry allowed) with a few tricks that parallel the story from the album, and watch the climax of the show together (Bob fashions some earplugs for Gene out of a napkin).  On the way home, Bob’s asking Gene how he liked it, and Gene says “I loved it!”, Bob asks him to speak louder ‘cause his ear’s are shot, and Gene yells, “I LOVED IT, DAD”.  Bob yells back “I love you too, Gene”.

I FUCKING!!! CAN’T!!! DEAL!!!! WITH HOW GOOD THIS SHOW IS!!! I know i don’t talk about Bob’s Burgers a lot but this show is flawless and charming and gross and funny all at the same time, the characters are written like people with actual fears and anxieties, and unlike a lot of comparable shows, the comedy doesn’t come from the family being pitted against each other, it’s always the family against the world… I love it, I love it, it’s so pure and refreshing and still somehow manages to be funny without sacrificing it’s heart, and I fuckin’ love it, please watch Bob’s Burgers holy CRAP okay I’m done.


Daishou scribbles cause he was there for, like, half a panel and I got excite


A bit late now but here’s something for the Mystery Twins’ birthday! It also happens to coincide with my country’s Independence Day hahahaha

This is Stan’s newest sweater:

Maybe it’s the first time the Pines family is reunited back at the Shack since that summer (dodgy video calls on an adventure ship can only do so much).


#in which Kara likes to use her secret weapon now and poor Mon-El couldn’t stand a chance

anonymous asked:

can you draw vanessa in her dress from The Club?

shes here to look good and kick ass, and she already looks good

touken’s wedding night headcanons ((mini-fic)) 💖💍

i’ve said on my twitter (you should follow me there as well! 👀 ) that i was going to write a fic about their wedding night, but the truth is that the plot itself is extremely generic, the structure of the fic feels too weak for me to get inspired and start writing, so i decided to write down some of the headcanons that i have for it instead, this could be considered as part of my mini-fics series (read those here!), but in the end this is just a list of all the headcanons for their special night… although at the end i got a bit carried away and it ended up looking like a fanfic 😂 so i don’t know anymore…  enjoy!! ///


“This is what I’ve chosen, Kaneki,” she weeps quietly, feeling his lips on her skin. She’s smirking as she cries. “I want this, I want this so badly, and I’m really happy today, I really am… y-you have no idea how badly I wan—”

“I know,” he whispers, quieting her with a kiss. “I know.”

They stay silent for a while, kissing on the lips, kissing each other’s hands, cuddling until Touka feels her body slowly falling into slumber. She’s not quite asleep yet, she can still hear Kaneki’s words whispering “I love you” to her, firmly and desperate, he wants her to hear him. And she does.

She does.

Keep reading


Jemma + Words of Validation to Fitz

anonymous asked:

Stanchez & “I forgot I was a single parent.”

39. “I forgot I was a single parent.”
Word Count: 455

How bout some sort of kind of a good dad Rick? Well he’s trying…maybe…I just want Beth to have her dad.

“I forgot I was a single parent.”

“How the hell do you forget your a single parent?!” Stan stiffened when he remembered there was a child in the room and cursing in front of her was probably not the best thing. The kid just stared at him as they both walked into the apartment.

“She-she’s very quiet.”

“And alone. How old is she? 4? 5? A kid that age shouldn’t be left alone by herself!” Stan gestured toward her as she picked herself up.

“I thought I had a babysitter or some kind of teen to watch Beth.”

“She left.” Stan was startled by the kid’s voice. Rick was right she was a quiet kid. “She didn’t wanna play wit my dolls. Daddy, she said it was for babies.”

Rick sighed. “She’s not getting that pack of beer. That’s just cause she’s a jerk sweetheart.” Rick walked over to his kid and picked her. “She doesn’t know what to do with ya. Got too much energy in that little body of yours.”

“Who’s the weird man?” She pointed to Stan.

“That’s my…friend?” Rick just shrugged. “Beth, this is Stan. Stan this is my daughter Beth.”

Stan gave a little wave. He was still in the doorway, not really sure if he should go in farther. “Hi ya Beth.”

Beth stared at him with an expression that Stan couldn’t place. “He’s nice.”

“Yes, he is very nice.”

“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Beth tried to wiggle out of Rick’s arms before he placed her on the ground.

“Alright you little monster, whatcha asking for? We might have some leftovers or am I gonna have to make something for you?”

Beth just shrugged.

Stan’s stomach started to growl as he watched the two interact. He turned red as both of them turned to him. When was the last time he had a full meal? He had some kind of chips this morning…

“Alright, I got two hungry monsters in this place,” Rick rolled his eyes at Stan. “You like that dinner down the street right Beth? The one were that waitress makes you your favorite waffles?”

“The one with strawberries?”

“That’s the one.”

“Strawberries!” She rushed over to put on her coat with only a little help from her dad. She ran over to Stan and held out her hand to him. “I need to hold your hand. We have to cross the street.”

Stan looked over at Rick a little confused. Rick was trying not to laugh. “Hold her hand Stan, it’s a big street. She just wants you to be safe.”

“O-Okay…” He gave Beth his hand and she gripped it tightly as she dragged him out the door.

“Come on Daddy!” She yelled back.

“Coming sweetheart!”


@brilliantrosetyler requested: compliments/nice things they say to (about) each other

Whipped...friends?? Or...

Whipped…friends?? (Part One)


Harry doesn’t bother going back to the living room to join the boys. In fact, he’s stood frozen in place for the past ten minutes, staring at the door Y/N’s walked out through with the excuse of being late for a date she had never once mentioned before. Harry didn’t even think she was dating, let alone actually seeing someone already.

It’s all come as a bit of a shock to him if he’s being honest. He likes to think they had something special going on, but maybe it was just all in his head. Or maybe he should’ve said something to her, proper admitted his feelings and all. But what if she didn’t like him back? Harry’s always been a sort of risk taker when it came to getting what he wanted. But he always thought risking their friendship was too much. If she liked him…that would be amazing. But…what if she didn’t.  

If he told her how he’s stayed awake more times than he can count thinking of her. How he’s watched her sleep next to him and wanted to kiss away the frown she gets when she’s having a bad dream. He wants to jokingly tell her how the boys tease him for being so whipped, and have her laugh because they both know it’s true. He wants to tell her that he loves that she gets along with Gemma and his mum. That they adore her because she’s everything they want for him. He wants to tell her she’s everything he wants for him. He just wants to explain to her, or at least try to because it’s very hard to find the words for it, how she makes him feel…whole. How he misses her when she’s not with him, and only falls harder when she is. 

So no, Harry doesn’t bother going back to the living room. Walks up the stairs of his home instead, body slumped and heart wrenching. He thinks he’s lucky that he’s made it down the hallway and to his bedroom with out breaking down. Managed to somehow drag his feet and supported his heavy body…heavy heart, through his bedroom doors and to the bed. He stares at it for a short minute, thinking about how he’s going to have to sleep on his own tonight. How he’s going to be denied of Y/N’s warmth. He’s not going to have anyone to wrap his arms around, to breathe their scent, to smile into their hair when he wakes up in the middle of the night reminded that he’s not alone. And he sits on the edge of his too big a bed, feet firm on the carpeted floor, the heels of his hands digging at his eyes because surely this is all a dream..a nightmare. Thinking about it, he doesn’t remember ever being this…this…gutted? Jealous? Empty? Broken? All of the above, and more.


Walking down the streets of anywhere hasn’t been much of a hassle for him since the band’s break. He’s able to walk through roads and into shops with no problem. The paps have been nice enough to keep a distance when taking photos, and he’s grateful for that. So in all honesty, now he’s only ever just a tad tense when Y/N’s with him. But it’s not a bad thing, no, he loves having someone to go around town with, rather just feels the need to protect her a bit more on their outings. 

So he keeps an arm around her shoulder, body tucked close to his, guiding her as they walk down the busy street, pulling her closer when he thinks someone passing by might bump into her. And she doesn’t complain. Tonight’s temperature’s dropped rather low, and the heat emitting from Harry’s body keeps her warmer than she thinks her own coat does. Y/N thinks it’s nice. Loves when Harry’s close to her. Loves the fact that his scent will linger on her clothes for days until she finally brings herself to put them in the washer.

They come to a stop by a hot dog cart, tummies grumbling because they hadn’t eaten anything since brunch, and even then Y/N hadn’t felt well enough to eat more than half of what was on her plate. So as per usual when that happened, Harry had to finish her meal, too, not that he had complained.

Now he’s standing in front of her, hands rubbing at her arms to heat her up as he offers to buy her a hotdog because “ye’ need t’ eat somethin’, kitten. Can’t have ye’ gettin’ sick, now.”

So she nods her head yes and tells him she’ll be waiting for him inside of the bakery they’re stood in front because “s'too cold outside. And I caught a whiff of the goodies! Gonna head in and get us a table.” Harry can’t help but smile down at her, and before he’s able to say anything, she leans up to whisper in his ear, “I know…you used to be a baker.” The sound of her giggle tickles at his ear, his smile only stretching more, and now he understands what the boys meant. He gives a light chuckle, kissing the top of her head before whispering a low, “I’ll jus’ be a minute.”

Y/N never needed to tell Harry how she liked her food, it’s fair to say they know each other well enough not to get the other’s order wrong. And as simple as that thought might be, it makes them both happier than the other will ever know to know that type of stuff. 

Harry never thought he’d feel such happiness looking at someone either. When his mum used to give him talks about girls and how important it is to treat them like princesses, Harry would wave the comments away. He was old enough to know that yes, his mother did raise him to be a proper gentleman. But he never thought, or at least not at the time because he was so young, that he’d have someone making him feel the way Y/N does. Only ever wished.

But now he’s looking at a beautiful woman standing in a bakery. Her eyes fixed on the displays because he knows she’s got a sweet tooth.

“Tell me wha’ ye’ wan’ and I’ll get it for ye’.”

Harry’s whispered words have Y/N turning around swiftly, smiling up at him because Harry’s never short on getting her anything and everything. Not that she ever asked for much. 

He thinks he’s got more money than he knows what to do with, so he’s always more than willing to get Y/N anything she pleased. But that’s the thing about her, she doesn’t ask for much. Give her cuddles and your time and she’s more than happy. That’s how Harry knows she’s meant for him. She’s simple, and Harry loves simple. Harry loves her. 


Harry can’t quite recall at around what time he’s been falling asleep at nights. After that first night, he only knows he’s been falling asleep to memories of Y/N.  

During the days he stares at the TV mindlessly, jumping at the sound of his phone in hopes it would be Y/N. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed to see it was Louis, or Niall, or Liam. On occasion his mum who by some reason or another knew what was going on. Don’t get him wrong, he loves talking to his mum, he just rather wishes it were Y/N.

“Harry, sweetheart-” and he could hear the hurt in her voice. That tone a mother gets when they know nothing they say or do can help a suffering child. “-don’ give up, baby. You fight for her, you hear me.” And Harry will pinch at his lower lip in an attempt to keep his voice steady before assuring his mother that “I won’t mum. I love her." 

The boys come around as often as they did before. And after asking why Y/N wasn’t around anymore, Harry told them. "She’s apparently datin’ some bloke. I’ve not heard from her. Won’t return m'calls.”

He’s tried to reach out to her plenty of times. He’s called, texted, stopped by her place, all to no avail. 

And Louis doesn’t remember seeing Harry this gutted over a girl. “Tha’s shit, mate. She spends every wakin’ moment with ye’ and somehow still meets someone? Reckon ye’ would’ve taken notice, ehh?" 

"Cheryl thinks there’s something else going on,” Liam adds, “says a woman knows when a friend has feelings for a guy. And she says Y/N never quiet looked at you as just a friend.”

Harry would much rather believe this than keep thinking about Y/N doing what she did with Harry with someone else. But he pushes the thought to the back of his mind, because if by any chance she did like him, she wouldn’t have left him.
And it’s awful knowing he doesn’t know when he’ll see her again. All he knows, is that he’s not giving up.


After sulking around for what feels like an eternity, Harry’s gathered up enough strength to pull himself out of where he was staying and into the busy city that is NYC. 

He’s arrived here only a few days ago for business, hasn’t even told Y/N seeing as she won’t answer his calls.

So he pushes thoughts of her to the back of his mind, or at least tries to. And thankfully, the fans he’s just recently met did a good job of distracting him. But only for a moment while he was interacting and taking photos with them.  

And it’s times like these that he doesn’t take for granted. He loves making his fans happy. Loves getting to thank them personally. And though he’s able to keep all thoughts focused on who he’s talking with, the second he walks away to get on with his night and readjusts the scarf she gifted him two Christmas’ ago, is the moment he feels his eyebrows knit in focus, recalling another memory.


If there’s ever any situation for Harry to be protective, it’s now. He doesn’t know how he’s ended up at the park near Y/N’s. Doesn’t remember if he walked or drove. All he knows is that he was lying about in his room when he got a call from her. And hearing her frantic voice going on about how she thought she was being followed had him running out the door before she could tell him where she was.

“Just please, Harry. Stay on the phone with me.” She was whispering and stuttering and her voice was shaky and Harry. Was. Scared. 

Like hell he was gonna just stay put.

So now here he is, phone still to his ear whispering words of comfort. “Where are ye’?” “S'okay, poppet, you’re g'na be okay.” “I promise.”

And then suddenly the worst thing that could happen. He’s got no idea what’s going on, but the rush has him forgetting he’s wearing nothing but sweats and a thin tee in below freezing weather.

He tucks his phone into his pocket.There’s no point, their phone call got cut and all he heard before it did was a man’s voice and her muffled one.

He’s running. Where to, he’s got no clue.

It’s not until he hears a cut scream that he knows exactly where she is. Now. He’s angry.

“Get the fook of a'her!" 

The guy doesn’t even get a chance to turn around and look at him before Harry’s big hands collide with the stranger’s back, gripping at his shirt and yanking him back and to the ground.

He looks at Y/N only for a second, still tucked into the corner the bloke had her in, eyes full of fright.

And honest Harry doesn’t train for these type of situations, but he must admit the boxing sessions are useful in this precise moment. All it took was a right hook to the guy’s face. That was enough to have him falling to the ground again, this time a mouth full of blood. And Harry knows. Y/N knows. He’s gonna have the outline of Harry’s rings imprinted on the side of his face for a while. 

Within seconds Harry’s attention was back on Y/N. Fingers ghosting over her face because he doesn’t know if she’s hurt. But she wraps her arms around his torso and clenches at the fabric of his shirt, face tucked into his neck. Harry exhales into her hair and wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her against his body as he closes his eyes. 

"M'here. I’ll always be here.” He whispers. 

And Harry knows he can’t ever let this happen again. He won’t. 

But how can he protect her when she won’t let him? 

How can he, when the first time he sees her since that night is by the hand of someone else. 

And…what is she doing in New York?

Whipped…friends?? Or…not anymore??(Part Three)


You know why.

No, I don’t know why.

Sana and Yousef both being unable to sleep after their date, both thinking about the other and smiling in their bed, tossing and turning around remembering everything that happened last evening. Sana hesitating for a while but finally, just before 1 am, grabbing her phone and sending him a text thinking “he’ll see it tomorrow when he wakes up”. She feeels like she has to tell him how much she enjoyed the time they spent together. But she doesn’t want to be too emotional either about him leaving. And he replies right away and tells her that he can’t sleep and it makes her smile and holds her phone to her chest because she knows why he can’t sleep. She understands that he is doing the same thing as her, that he is replaying every second of their time together and smiling at the ceiling marvelling at this feeling in his chest that makes him feel whole and content and happy. She understands because she is doing the exact same thing. He’s so happy when his phone notifies him with a new text and he sees that it’s from Sana. And he’s so happy to know that she enjoyed their date and that he’s not the only one who can’t sleep. She makes him laugh and he makes her laugh. His heart starts beating faster when he sees the heart emoji. Her heart is beating faster as she sends the heart emoji, she feels so alive sharing her feelings like this. She doesn’t need a great declaration. They both know. And she is biting her lips to contain her joy when he sends back the same emoji.

Sana and Yousef being in love.

anonymous asked:

reddie prompt: date night (sry its technically 2 words lmao) ♥️♥️♥️

hello anon-friend! this took so long, right? this was one of the first prompts i got and it’s literally been a hundred years since you sent it. i’m v sorry about that. this is uuuh… reddie fake-boyfriends? sort of? there are… i mean there’s a date so. it fits imo. thank you for the prompt, i hope you like it!

It’s an accident, all of it, but it’s still definitely his mother’s fault. It starts with Eddie, sitting at the coffee table in his living room, doing his homework, minding his own business. It starts with his mother, drifting into the room and sitting on the couch, flipping through TV channels so rapidly Eddie knows immediately she wants to ask him something awful. Or tell him something awful. Or just be awful in general. His grip on his pencil tightens. He presses his fingers to the centre of his textbook, where the pages meet the spine, so hard it creaks and he’s pretty sure Stan would act like he’d killed a man if he could see it. He thinks the bones of books are just as important as the bones of people. It’s probably part of the reason he and Mike and Ben get on so well. And then his mother takes a breath and Eddie steels himself.

“Sweetheart,” she says, “when are you going to bring a girl home?”

Eddie is so startled he drops his pencil. “Uh,” he says, stupidly. “Never, because of all the… I mean because of diseases, STDs… right? Isn’t that… I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?”

She laughs. Eddie feels a little bit like someone’s about to step out from behind a shelf waving a camcorder. Probably Richie, though God knows how he would’ve got his mother in on it. She hates his guts.

“It’s just a little unusual,” she continues, her eyes never leaving the TV screen. “A boy your age. And, well, there are some nice girls in the neighbourhood, aren’t there? Millie Rhodes across the street is a lovely girl, and pretty.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He feels strange, twisted inside, like his blood’s on fire. A boy his age. What the fuck? What the fuck. Is he supposed to agree to this? Oh sure, mum, I’ll just trot across the road and ask Millie fucking Rhodes to prom. Like she doesn’t already think he’s the biggest loser on the planet. Like she isn’t one of Greta’s gang, still trying to make Bev’s life hell after all this time. Like asking a girl out is something he’d ever actually do anyway. What the fuck. It’s not like he’s over the hill, just seventeen and single. He shuts his textbook, sandwiching the pencil between the pages, and he stands up, muttering a quiet goodnight to his mother, and he goes to his room and tries to forget about it.

Sonia Kaspbrak has other ideas. Every single day she’ll mention some girl she’s met at church or at the market or at the fucking drugstore. A girl who is sweet and pretty and clean. A knee-socks girl in Keds and a pleated skirt. Eddie’s sure they’re all lovely, except Millie Rhodes, but… he tries to think about things like dating and kissing and sexuality as little as possible, because it’s easier that way. Because if he thinks about it then he might find an answer to all his fear, which is somehow even scarier. But she doesn’t seem to even notice his discomfort and she brings up the possibility of him dating at every chance she can get and Eddie feels a little bit like he’s drowning.

He brings Richie home with him one day, hoping he might act as a sort of buffer. Maybe Eddie’s mum will see him and stop talking about girls for one goddamn second and he’ll make it a whole day without hearing about any of it. A whole day without the threat of romance. Twenty four perfect hours.

“”M home, mum,” he calls, opening the front door. “Richie’s here.”

“I know I’m a little early for our date, Mrs K., but-” starts Richie, before Eddie pinches him viciously in the side and he squeaks to a stop.

“Eddie, come here,” says his mother.

He moves into the living room, Richie half a step behind him, and he resists the urge to put his hands behind his back, straighten his shoulders, press his feet together. She doesn’t look at Richie. Eddie resists the urge to grab him and push him at her, so she’s forced to acknowledge he exists.

“Eddie, I’ve set up a date for you,” she says. “With Millie Rhodes. Her mother is very excited.”

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t really know what to do. He stares at her. He stares at her and next to him Richie has gone still too, like a statue, more frozen than Richie Tozier ever has any right to be. He’s going to say something in a second, thinks Eddie, desperately. He’s going to say something weird and funny and I’m going to realise that this is real life and I really, really don’t want it to be real fucking life, oh my god-

“Richie’s my boyfriend,” blurts Eddie, caught on his panic, and he grabs Richie’s hand and tugs him to his side. There’s a deafening silence, broken only by Eddie’s mum’s ragged breathing. Her eyes are impossibly wide. Richie’s hand is warm.

“That I am,” says Richie, breaking through it all, pulling Eddie more firmly against his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “Sweethearts, me and Eds, a new thing, but inevitable, like the heat death of the universe.”

“What?” whispers Eddie’s mum, her eyes returned to their normal size, looking like she might start to scream at any second.

“Okay, so, we’re gonna… we’re gonna go,” says Eddie, hurriedly, and he throws himself out of the room and up the stairs, pulling Richie behind him.

Keep reading


Look at the difference between Sansa talking with Jon and talking with LF. Where she’s so open and tender and vulnerable with Jon, she’s closed off and frosty to LF. With Jon, she faces him with her whole body, making eye contact (and physical touch later). With LF, she barely spares him a glance the entire conversation. This ship sails itself, fam.

episode 66 hurt me so bad i wrote a thing

(it’s on ao3 too if you prefer to read it there and get some bonus content but i thought id post it here for convenience. ok now here it is have fun crying)

Imagine, for a moment, the first couple days after Lucretia erased everyone’s memory…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love your writing so much! Here's a prompt if you want it: in Dreamland after Scully handcuffs Fletcher to the bed she tells Mulder about it when they're sitting in the car talking

Tagging @today-in-fic and @fictober

“What convinced you finally?” They’re sitting in the car, Mulder and Scully, like they’re the only two people here in this murky parking lot. Mulder, with the face of Morris Fletcher, eyes Scully and she stares right back. She’s never been interested in looks. It’s what’s inside that counts, she reminds herself, and the man inside is Mulder. The grin, though, is not Mulder. The inflection of this man’s voice is a strange, obscure sound in her ear. She can’t read his expression, doesn’t know what the twitch in his cheek means. The light is dim, shady, and if she blinks, squints her eyes, can she pretend this is her Mulder? She tries, but the face remains the same; the one she doesn’t want to see.

“Scully?” It doesn’t sound the same. A nuisance at first, a tease on his part, she is certain, when he started calling her Scully. Not Agent Scully or Dana. Scully. She crinkles her nose remembering Morris Fletcher, inhabiting Mulder’s body, saying her name.

“I was just – this is so strange, Mulder.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs, his eyes intent on hers. Scully briefly wonders if she looks different to him, looking through different eyes. “So, tell me. What did I – what did he do – that made you believe me?”

“You don’t want to know.” She mumbles no longer looking at him, instead playing with a loose thread on her jacket.

“I may not want to know, but I need to know. Please, Scully.” She lifts her head. She They have a history of this, don’t they. Eddie van Blundth slips into her mind. As intrusively and unwelcome as when he came to her apartment back then. A big fat smile on his face. Only that it wasn’t his face. It was Mulder’s face. She’d almost fallen for it again this time, let herself be fooled again. The mere idea of switched bodies so improbable that a completely out of character Mulder made more sense to her. More sense than her own feelings and her intuition. She doubted herself; she doubted Mulder, too.

“You – he – is quite popular at the moment. He’s been entertaining… new friends.”

“As in…”


“Scully, I hope you know that-” She shakes her head, stops him.

“I know, Mulder. That’s one of the things that made me realize something wasn’t right.”

“Just one? Scully, you have to tell me.”

“You – he,” Scully, frustrated, corrects herself, “invited me over to your place.”

“What did he do?” Scully may not know Morris Fletcher intimately, or well at all, but she detects the darkness in that question. There’s a hint of fear, too. That’s all Mulder.

“Nothing happened, Mulder. I stopped him. I knew he wasn’t you. Without going into too much detail, I, well, I tied him to the bedpost. With handcuffs.” She is proud of herself for that move, she can’t deny it.

“You did what? Since when do I even have a bedpost?”

“Morris spruced up your bedroom, Mulder. You’ve got a bed now,” she tells him and can’t contain the smile, “a waterbed, in fact. Oh, and a nice mirror over your bed.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Mulder groans.

“Sorry, Mulder. At least you’ll be able to sleep in a bed from now on.”

“That implies you have an idea on how to get me back into my own body.” Scully glances at him. She doesn’t have an idea. None. This should never have happened. What is she going to do if Mulder remains in this man’s body? The wedding ring on his finger glints. If they don’t find a solution… she won’t allow herself to even think it.

“Whatever happened, Mulder, is an improbability.”

“That didn’t stop it from happening, Scully.” She nods miserably.

“I hope the Gunmen can help us. If not…” Mulder reaches over and takes her hand. She startles and gasps. She should have kissed him, she thinks, and the thought surprises her even more than the unknown touch. When they returned from Antarctica, feelings as raw as their skin, she should have just kissed him. She wanted to. Wants to now. Scully turns to him, wonders if the surprise on her face is apparent. With Mulder, her Mulder, she would have been able to tell. She aches for his face, longs to touch his cheek, and lose herself in his eyes. She’s never much cared about Mulder’s effortless good looks; they are not what make him who he is. But she misses it; misses what she’s grown to know and love.

“There’s got to be a way, Scully. It happened once, right? There’s got to be a good chance it can happen again.” She’s not going to tell him about statistics. Not that she knows any numbers for unlikely occurrences like this. He once called her his one in five billion. So unlikely. So what if… what if. 

“Hey, don’t give up on me yet, Scully.“ 

"I’m not, Mulder. I promise, I’m not.”

“But there’s something on your mind. Sunflower seed for your thoughts?” He offers her a handful but she shakes her head. 

“I miss your voice, Mulder.” She admits and stares at his hand. He puts a seed in his mouth, cracks it. The sound is the same as always, should be familiar, but it’s not. 

“Do I not talk? I mean Fletcher.”

“Not like you do." 

"I promise you that as soon as I’m back to myself, I’ll talk your ear off. I can recite sonnets or do you want me to sing you a song? What would you like to hear?” She wants him to tell her again how he makes her a whole person. How they’re in this together. That he needs her. She wants to hear him say Scully in a whisper, a moan, a prayer.

“Just anything, Mulder.” She answers him instead. 

“Anything? So if I wanted to talk to you about let’s say handcuffing people to bedposts…” Scully laughs and desperate tears tickle her throat.

“If we make it out of this, Mulder, I’ll not only talk to you about it, I’ll show you. Now go back inside so I can find a way to get the real you back.”

Voltron Theatre Headcannons

Okay so I feel like so much of the fandom is made up of theatre kids like myself, so buckle up and get ready…

- Lance is constantly singing show tunes, and before he left the Garrison, he participated in a theatre group with Hunk and Pidge.
- Hunk was in Stage Crew, and people loved him because he built and moved sets quickly and always brought the stage crew homemade cupcakes during Sunday rehearsals.
- Pidge obviously worked in the sound booth; she auditioned to be in the cast once but sprained her ankle during the first week of rehearsals.
- Keith claimed that the group was dorky, but he secretly wanted to join for Hunk’s Sunday cupcakes and to piss off Lance.
- Lance and Hunk stay up to date on all the new musicals on Broadway, thanks to Pidge figuring out how to download Earth music files.
- Coran is intrigued by Earth music in general and sometimes listens to the soundtracks with Lance and Hunk.
- Keith initially complains because they listened in Lance’s room, but now he dances to all of the songs in his room.
- One time, Allura walked in on Keith dancing like an idiot to the OBC recording of “RENT” and was amused and terrified.
- She said that he might actually be a better dancer than Lance.
- Lance and Pidge had “Hamilton” tickets for spring break, but they left the Garrison before they saw it.
-Lance is still salty about it.
- He blames Keith even though Keith had no clue what the big fuss was about.
-Coran’s first theatre soundtrack was “Hairspray”
- Shiro and Keith swear that they are going to throw Coran off of the ship if they hear “You Can’t Stop the Beat” one more time.
- Even though they secretly love it.
-Shiro and Lance try to get Keith to listen to “Dear Evan Hansen” because they know he’ll love it.
- Keith saw how the end made Lance cry, and he doesn’t like crying
- He asked Hunk about it once, which just turned into him sobbing into Altean brownie batter while singing “For Forever”
- Allura somehow became obsessed with “Newsies” without Lance or Hunk showing it to her.
- She comes up with headcannons for the paladins as each character.
- She constantly tells them to “seize the day”
- Pidge and Keith cringe every time
- Shiro and Pidge try to convince Coran to play “Ding! Dong! The Witch Is Dead!” from “The Wizard of Oz” after they finally defeat Haggar.
- He is initially strongly against it.
- They show him the song and now he can’t think of Haggar without dying of laughter
- Instead of the munchkins, Pidge imagines the little puffball things singing instead.
-Lance’s favorite musical is “In The Heights”
- He saw it three times on Broadway
- Lin-Manuel signed two of his Playbills, one of which he carries around in the pocket of his jacket.
- The other ones are still at the Garrison.
- Everytime Keith brings up their bonding moment, the mice hum “No Me Diga”
- Because of Usnavi, Lance is the only one that can make better coffee than Hunk.
- That is the only thing anyone can cook better than Hunk.
-Hunk’s favorite is “Waitress”
- He somehow convinced Coran that his name was Jenna for three weeks.
- Keith likes to stick with the classics, like “Sweeney Todd” and “Les Miserables”
- He likes to think he listens to them because of the instruments and extreme vocals.
- He really only likes them because everyone dies.
-Pidge’s favorite is “Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812”
- She saw it with the OBC
- Her father took her before the Kerberos mission, and she has a picture in her room of the two of them with Phillipa Soo in front of the marquee.
- When she finds Matt, she plans on making him listen to the whole thing.
- Pidge developed technology so that they can watch the Tony’s in space, and it’s become a tradition.
That’s it guys! Let me know if you want more!!! 💝💝💝