#post ep fic

[winchesterlesbian]

How it feels to be in this fandom

[crsssie]

ring ring - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"DAVE—"

The bullet pierces through her hand before anyone can think, and you waste no time pinning her down and throwing her on the ground, listening to the way something crunches when you make the arrest.

"Jesus Christ. I'm all for evil women but this one just has no redeeming qualities." You pull her to her feet, walking her to the cop car. "Nice try, though."

"You BITCH." She bites.

"Yeah, been called that a few times. It sticks."

"Nice shot." Morgan nods. "How'd you know?"

"She had no signs of torture." You point at her clear skin, chuckling. "At least try some makeup next time before your escape, hm?"

"Like the purple on your neck?"

"Oh, I'll do a better job next time." You stretch your arms, glancing at the rest of the victims. "Are we free?"

"Let's ride back. They'll take care of the rest."

You glance at your ringing phone, answering as you slide into the backseat.

"Hey."

"Hey. All safe?"

"We're all good." You hum. "You wanna get dinner after this? I'm starving."

"Indian?"

"I'm so down." You groan. "A good butter chicken with naan right now sounds like heaven."

"Sounds good." Spencer hums. "Nothing hurt?"

"Nothing. She tried killing Dave, but—"

"She?"

"What? God forbid a woman be evil for once."

You raise a brow when Rossi glances back at you.

"I'll see you in a bit. Rossi's giving me a weird look. I don't want to get re-evaluated."

"Alright. Stay safe. Love you."

"Love you too." You turn off your phone, pursing your lips when Morgan gives you a look.

"So. I love you, huh?"

"Love you too, Derek."

He barks out a laugh.

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader.

part two to this fic.

after inviting blitzø to stay the night in your bed, the two of you (and the rest of i.m.p.) deal with the sudden change in the dynamic between the two of you.

features blitzø typical language, pure fluff, and sexual innuendo. the man really has a thing for your boobs, okay? 1.4k

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You wake up before your alarm, eyes opening reluctantly against the red light of a hellish morning. It takes you a moment to remember the events of the night before, but the shifting of the sheets over you as another body in the bed moves brings it all flooding back.

Both you and Blitzø had moved in the night and his hand is no longer wrapped around yours. You vaguely remember falling asleep after him, your hand still enclosed in his as his breathing had slowly evened out into a soothing, steady rhythm. His back is to you now, his body curled in on itself almost protectively. You take a moment to study him, the curve of his horns and the slim line of his back as it peeks out from under the blankets. Eventually you make a move to leave the bed, switching off your alarm and intent on a steaming shower.

You stop as something tightens reflexively around your leg as soon as you try to move, and you lift the sheets with a brow raised in curiosity. Blitzø’s tail is wrapped firmly around your calf, and as you watch, the spade of his tail twitches slowly back in forth against the underside of your knee. It’s oddly soothing, and you press your lips together against the smile that threatens to bloom on your lips. With a soft exhale you let yourself fall back against the mattress, turning your head to look at him again.

“Blitzø?” you say his name softly, almost unwilling to wake him up. You weren’t sure of the last time he’d seemed so… peaceful. You reach out to touch a gentle hand to his shoulder. “B? We’ve gotta go to work.”

The imp groans, rolling onto his back. He squints up at the unfamiliar ceiling, apparently confused. “The fuck…?”

His eyes snap fully open as the night before suddenly comes back to him, and he grimaces, slowly turning his head to meet your eye.

“Christ on a stick, I really spent the fuckin’ night here, didn’t I?”

You nod, amused by the almost bashful glint in his eyes. “You did.”

“Please tell me I at least got to bury my face in those sweet—”

“No, you didn’t.” you say bluntly, rolling your eyes before he can finish. Still, you feel a tingle of warmth through you at the suggestion. “How’d you sleep?”

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in booze two nights in a row.”

“Bitch.”

You smirk at the lack of venom in his voice. “You wanna shower first? I don’t know if I’ve got anything you could wear, but I guess you could borrow a shirt or something if you need it…”

Blitzø groans again, more dramatically than before, rolling into your side and burying his face in your neck. You freeze as you feel the warmth of him press up against you, his face almost nuzzling into the curve of your collarbone. The sensation makes that warmth reappear inside you. The softest of cat-like purrs sounds from him for a moment before he stiffens, suddenly aware of the position he’s in.

He jerks away from you, falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump and a string of curses. The move tugs your leg across the bed, and his swearing continues as he realizes he’s effectively tied himself to you in his sleep. “Fuckin’ – ASS!”

His tail detangles itself from your leg as you sit up, and you swear you can see a pinkish hue to the scarred side of his face.

“…You good?”

“Shut up.”

“Nope,” you reply childishly, smirking when he flips you off. “Now, did you want to shower?”

Blitzø tries for seductive, raising an eyebrow at you from where he still sits on the floor. “You joining me? ‘Cause I gotta say the idea of you all soaped up and gag—”

“Blitzø.” you deadpan, climbing out of bed. His eyes drop over your figure as he realizes what you had been wearing in bed with him – just an oversized tee shirt and your underwear – and you swear his pupils dilate. “Are you sober yet?”

He blinks up at you, swallowing heavily before clearing his throat. “Judgin’ by the titty-fuckin’ brass band shovin’ its collective dick up my brain’s unlubed ass right now, I’d say yeah.”

You wrinkle your nose at the metaphor but squat down in front of him, studying his face for a moment. You nod as you make a decision, reaching out to wipe a spot of dried drool away from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “Okay.”

Ignoring the part of you that reminded you that this was a bad idea, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss, his cheek still cupped in your hand. Blitzø freezes for a moment before kissing you back, his hand finding your knee and sliding up to curl around the bare flesh of your thigh as he leans up into it. You feel his breath catch against your mouth, his tongue touching your bottom lip for a second. The kiss is soft and it’s brief and when you pull away Blitzø still looks surprised.

Giving him a small smile you stand, fingers curling in the hem of your shirt. “I’ve gotta shower. The coffee machine should start brewing in a few minutes if you want some.”

“I… what?!”

***

Loona doesn’t say anything when she climbs up into the van beside you, trapping you between the hellhound and the imp driving, but her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“Nothing happened.” you tell her defensively.

“Uh-huh.” Loona replies dryly, already focused on her phone, and you can basically feel Blitzø’s smirk on the other side of you. By the time you were showered and dressed he’d managed to summon up much of his usual bravado, and the fact that he was currently wearing your favorite 666 Wrath Radio tee shirt was serving as basically a spotlight broadcasting the idea that the two of you had fucked.

You suspect that that was the whole reason he picked it.

You jump as you feel Blitzø’s hand slide over your thigh as he reaches between your knees to shift gears. He touches you again as he withdraws, claws grazing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Goosebumps follow after them. You shiver and he snickers, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you’d chosen to wear shorts.

Loona eyes you as she notices the touch, and you roll your eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Sure.”

***

“Is Blitzø wearing your shirt?” Moxxie asked as you entered the I.M.P. office, drawing Millie’s attention too. “Why is he wearing your shirt?”

A smile forms on Millie’s lips, her eyes shining with possibility. “Did you two…?”

“No!” you reply, dropping onto the couch with a sigh. “For Satan’s sake, no!”

Moxxie seems to be still stuck on the obvious. “But he’s wearing your shirt.”

“Aw, come on, Moxx.” Blitzø says, wrapping an arm obnoxiously around the other imp and pulling him unwillingly into his side. He ruffles Moxxie’s hair with his fist, grinning as he tries to shove him away. “You know if we’d fucked Y/N here would need the day off just to get those sexy little legs of hers workin’ again after all the shakin’ they’d been doin’!”

“Shut the fuck up, B,” you tell him as Moxxie finally manages to wrest himself Blitzø’s grasp, and the taller imp grins at you. “Or I’ll tell ‘em what actually happened last night. Okay, boss?”

“Ooh, ‘boss’? Tits, you’re gonna go and make me all tingly.”

You roll your eyes, but his smile widens from teasing to more pleased as he notices you trying not to smile yourself. “Can we just… go kill someone? Please?”

Blitzø claps his hand together, turning on his heel to face Loona. “Now you’re talking! Looney, what have we got on the books for today?”

Millie takes a seat beside you, leaning into your side to speak quietly enough that only you would hear. “What did happen last night?”

You shake your head, avoiding her eye. Blitzø catches your eye again as Loona goes through the day’s agenda in a detached tone of voice. He winks and you feel yourself flush. Millie’s eyebrows shoot up as she notices.

You clear your throat. “I… honestly, I've got no fucking idea.”

[ncis-nerd]

Tie

Agatha Harkness x Wanda's Daughter!Reader

+18

Warnings: Mature, suggestive, petnames, alludes to future smut, hurt/comfort, comfort, dark.

About: You are Wanda Maximoff's older daughter. Age estimated to be around 19 to 23ish but irrelevant to plot. What happens when you wake up in a new body? Where's your mom? Your dad? Your younger brothers?

Agatha All Along: Ep 6 spoilers under the cut

Agatha crawled her way out of the dirt, her hands scratching and pulling at the bits that remained on her face. Her hair all crinkly and dried. The scent of mud reeked from her as a worm wiggled it's way off of her.

Agatha was fuming with rage, but also impressed at your power. She had a suspicion you were one of Wanda's kids when you showed up at her house. The two fo you shared facial expressions so she had a hutch but you throwing her into the dirt and killing Lilia and Jen confirmed it for her.

--

You were walking on the road, on your way to the next trial. Your mind conflicted, you didn't know you had that in you. To just kill two witches, two innocent witches with the snap of a hand.

You shuddered at the thought, you didn't want to be a bad guy and kill innocent people. It was just an accident, you just wanted your family back and Agatha was getting on your nerves. Tears filled your eyes as your vision began to get blurry. You stopped your walking and sat on a abnormally large rock. There you just sat and pondered for a moment.

--

A smirk appeared on Agatha's face as she saw your jittery frame appear into her sight. The witch approached you with the lightest hand on your shoulder. Her touch ghosted your skin, you jumped up. Gasping softly as your eyes met hers.

"Agatha, I-" You stuttered. How was this possible? You thought you had gotten rid of her, was she not dead? You thought to yourself as Agatha's voice broke you from your trance.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, toots." Her voice purred, almost lulling you in. There was something different to her. Agatha was acting rather strange. Her movements were more... seductive.

No, it couldn't be. You were just reading into the situation too much.

--

Agatha brought her hand to rest on your chin. Her thumb stroked your cheek. "I know it's you, hun. Don't need to hide from me Sweetheart." Agatha cooed. She noticed your eyes widened, as you begin to fall into her trap, fall right into submission. Just as she wanted you.

a/n: like and reblog for more!

[lunarrosette]

Guys this is a big day for me (incredibly autistic abt dndads and baldurs gate III)

[goodthingscomeinthrees]

see the graves as you pass through

911 | bobby x athena | 1.8k, t, complete

“You okay?” Athena asks, as the taillights of the black Suburban disappear from view and all that’s left of Bobby’s mother is the hospital bracelet he shoved into the pocket of his pants when they cut it off her wrist with the Swiss Army knife he keeps on his keys.

[therealsaintscully]

She doesn’t know which scares her more: that he’ll never find the answer, or that he might.

This story has been on my mind for years, and I’m so glad I’ve finally finished it!

@discordantwords @thetimemoves

[thecitybee]

Five pizzas and a wedding ring...

Y'all this man's SWEETEST dream for the past six years has just been getting to meet her, share a meal with her, and fall in love with her in a world that never died.

Like real people do.

[suddencolds]

excavation of habit

hello! i honestly didn't think i still had it in me to thirst-write a fic, but on friday i watched the only 3 aired episodes of To Be He//ro X and had to whump the main character immediately 🫡

if you haven't watched the show yet, i highly recommend it! with that said, this fic can be read w/o any context if you do not mind ep1/ep2 spoilers.

(3.5k words, ft. a secret identity, a cold, a popularity-driven hero society, and a two-way character study)

—

It’s only a sore throat, at first. Barely registers, between the carefully choreographed morning appearances Miss J shepherds him through. 

Something Lin Ling is learning is that she always has something new ready for him. We live in a digital age, she said to him the other day. There is no such thing as privacy. If you want to stay relevant, you need to make yourself seen. He had been puzzled about that, at first. He’d asked her: “Haven’t I already been to enough interviews this week?”

“I’m not talking about interviews,” Miss J had said, and then refused to elaborate.

That’s another thing Lin Ling is learning about her. Despite her curt attitude, she is only non-communicative when she thinks an answer is self-evident. He found out what she meant soon enough. People’s trust, as it turns out, relies just as heavily on Nice’s actions out in the open. He can nail every interview and every game show and every celebrity appearance, and it won’t be enough. This is part of staying relevant, too—that he masquerades himself as just an ordinary citizen from time to time, that he shows himself to be remarkable even in ordinary circumstances.

Last week, he waited in line at a coffee shop downtown for thirty minutes, even though Treeman has more than enough money and resources to get an assistant to get coffee on his behalf, just so he could—with Nice’s strength and superhuman reflexes—1) rescue a cup of scalding hot coffee from being nearly-dropped onto someone’s open laptop, and 2) offer to help the workers haul in a heavy shipment of new machinery.

Compared to normal hero work, these sorts of appearances aren’t really that hard. There was even minor press coverage of it—some girl caught it all on video and posted it to Weibo—and everyone in the coffee shop left charmed.

Well done, Miss J had said, clapping him on the back. The people need to know what Nice is like on a day-to-day basis, you see? If you wait in line for coffee like everyone else, it makes you just that much more relatable. And that had been that.

It does not occur to Lin Ling to ask the question until lunch time, when he swallows again and feels it again: that flash of pain. He reaches for the energy drink on the table—Double VVoltcharge, a brand Nice has recently been sponsored by, which they have excess stock of lying around—and finds that his throat is still hurting when he gulps it down. 

“Miss J,” he says, setting the bottle back on the desk, in the exact corner he got it from. Makes sure his tone comes out sufficiently unassuming. “What was Nice like when he was sick?”

She regards him, scrutinizing. “Why are you asking?”

It’s a trap. She’s trying to gauge if anything is off, so he pretends not to notice. “Oh, you know, just—all this conversation about what he’s like as a normal person, like, what his coffee order is and everything, and I was like, huh, it’s strange that Nice drinks coffee. Like, since he’s so perfect and everything, I wouldn’t have been that surprised if I found out he never got tired.”

“Everyone gets tired,” Miss J says, rolling her eyes. “Even heroes.”

“Yeah, I guess so, or maybe he just liked the taste?” Lin-Ling-as-Nice shrugs. “Just wondering if he ever got sick, too, or if the public’s trust in him willed that away.”

“Of course he got sick,” Miss J says. “He’s not some kind of robot.”

“So what was he like? If I’m supposed to be him, shouldn’t I know these kinds of things?”

“Hmm.” Miss J seems to consider this for a moment, worrying at her lower lip. Lin Ling wonders if he’s happened upon a touchy subject.

He’s about to provide more justification—shouldn’t she be happy that he’s taking interest in Nice’s habits?—when she responds.

“...Excessively polite,” she says. “You know, always wearing a mask, coughing into his elbow, apologizing about it, that kind of thing. Sometimes he would even wear gloves or bring disinfectant spray around with him, if he really had to be somewhere. Though mostly he would stay in.”

“Ah,” Lin Ling says. “Okay. I guessed as much.” That doesn’t sound too difficult to emulate, on the off-chance that he is getting sick. The disinfectant makes sense, considering Nice’s borderline-obsession with neatness and cleanliness—the same tendencies Lin Ling feels as a static buzz at the edge of his consciousness more often than not, these days, whenever there’s clutter on the table or a cup is in the wrong place.

“You aren’t asking for any particular reason, are you?” Miss J says.

“Of course not!” Lin Ling says. “Just making conversation, is all.” He downs the rest of the energy drink, makes sure he doesn’t let the wince show on his face as it goes down.

—

The sore throat doesn’t get any better.

If anything, it gets worse. By the time dinner rolls around, Lin Ling finds that his nose is running, too, and even though he’s cleared his throat about a hundred times, it’s starting to take on a slight rasp. It’s strange and disconcerting to hear Nice’s smooth, low baritone marred by anything at all.

At the very least, he has confirmation now that Nice did get sick, even as a hero. The fact that Lin Ling is coming down with something now is not going to be the thing that exposes him as a fraud. That alone is a small comfort.

But the comfort ends there. Despite Miss J’s earlier descriptions, Lin Ling has no idea what kind of person Nice was when he was sick, aside from the usual obsession with cleanliness, and he has no idea how much the public knows about it either.

He isn’t sure how he’s going to break the news to Miss J. He’s never been—well, blatantly unfit for work before, ever since he took up Nice’s identity. Up until now, he’d like to think he’s been pretty good at taking up whatever she’s thrown at him. He still isn’t quite sure what her response to this might be. 

There was one time, a couple years back in December, when he’d come down with something when he was still working the advertising job. The heat had gone out in his apartment, and he had picked up this bug he couldn’t quite shake, had just about lost his voice with all the coughing. He’d finally worked up the courage to ask, meekly, for time off work.

His old boss had said, Do you think that just because you’re sick, Nice doesn’t need any more advertisements? And then, The proposal for next weeks’ advert needs to be emailed to me by 7am tomorrow morning. If it’s even a minute late, consider yourself fired.

In the end, Lin Ling—well, Lin Ling had apologized, put his head down, and gotten back to work. The week passed, and the week after that. That was just the life he led, then.

Things are different, now that he’s Nice. Now that he’s someone the public cares about, someone the public might miss. Nice’s public persona is damn near spotless, which makes sense at the surface, seeing how Miss J keeps virtually everything about Nice’s life squared away under lock and key. She probably has a collection of all of Nice’s favorite things, listed alphabetically, for God’s sake; she probably picks out his damn cologne for him based on market trends. But Lin Ling knows, deep down, that part of it has nothing to do with Miss J at all.

Part of it is this: Nice was Nice before he was a hero, too. Before he earned the trust of the people, before he was taken under Treeman’s wing, he was probably good at all of this: at appearing effortlessly charming and likable, which are things that Lin Ling has never been in his entire life. These days, he thinks he’s just one misstep away from having the entire foundation to his fake identity crumble under his feet.

“Not to your liking?” one of the agents says, casting a pointed glance towards the braised pork and steamed eggplant in front of him. Like all of the other agents, he’s dressed in all black and wearing sunglasses.

“Ah… sorry,” Lin Ling says, tightening his grip around his chopsticks. “I was just lost in thought. It’s delicious.” 

The agent nods, gruffly but not unkindly. “Then eat up.”

This, too, is foreign—having the agency be responsible for all of his meals, or even beyond that, having someone who cares whether something is to his taste. Lin Ling isn’t sure if it’s something he’ll ever get used to. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he makes himself eat, nonetheless.

The steam makes something shift in his sinuses, prickling, like the static edge of noise on the radio. He sniffles, leans forward to take a bite. Then the static edge sharpens into something he can no longer ignore.

“hh-hEh—!”

Remembering suddenly Miss j’s description of Nice, he ducks into an elbow. “—’IKkTSH’iIEw!—iihhh!”

The sneeze, when it finally comes, is surprisingly vocal. It’s the kind of sneeze you can hear the ending in, all high-pitched at the end, and it scrapes at his throat in a way that makes him want to cough afterwards. It sounds… well, markedly different from how Lin Ling is used to sounding when he sneezes. Then again, his voice has sounded different—less like his, and more like Nice’s, low and honeyed—ever since he made his first public appearance under the new identity. If he thinks about it, it isn’t all that strange that his sneeze sounds different, too.

He looks up, a little anxiously, to see if anyone’s noticed. Thankfully, the agent who stopped by earlier is on the other side of the room now, and none of them have so much as looked up at him. 

He resumes eating. The rice is steaming hot, and he’s been cold all day, though he’s only known the agency to set the thermostat at reasonable temperatures. He wonders distantly if Nice was ever susceptible to the cold.

Aside from Miss J, there’s only one person who might know.

—

Lin Ling texts Xiao Yueqing after dinner, from the privacy of his room on the tenth floor. After the incident at the wedding, he’d resigned himself to never speaking to Xiao Yueqing again—he didn’t know where she was anymore, and she’d changed her number—Miss J was very clear about not leaving behind any digital evidence. There was no reason for him to contact him again.

But it turns out that she had Nice’s phone number memorized. She texted him from a new number a week later, with a photograph of a tropical white sand beach, the line of water blue and sparkling from a distance, and followed it up a cheery: weather’s rly nice here ✌️u should come visit sometime, when you’re not so busy :p

He knew it was her immediately. The relief he’d felt, receiving that text, was nearly crushing.

They’ve been talking on-and-off ever since: Xiao Yueqing sending him pictures she’s snapped of the different cities she’s been to, accompanied by offhanded comments on what she’s seen, what she’s found surprising, and what she’d like to see; Lin Ling texting her whenever anything particularly amusing happens on the job.

Now, he sends off the text with no small amount of self-consciousness.

LL: Quick question, if you aren’t busy

These days, he never quite knows which country she’s in, so he doesn’t know what time it is for her, though she’s usually pretty good at responding if she’s awake and if he’s asked her a question. This time, Xiao Yueqing responds almost immediately.

MOON 🌺: ?

Lin Ling pulls the tissue box a little closer to him and extricates one carefully—he’d nabbed one from the agency storage room right before Miss J had driven him back to the Hero Tower. That is proving to be a wise decision now, considering that he’s gone through nearly a quarter of the box already.

LL: What was Nice like when he was sick?

MOON 🌺: wdym?

LL: Like 

LL: When he had a cold? assuming he did at least once when you were living together

LL: Idk did he act any differently or 

MOON 🌺: ohh

MOON 🌺: haha. yea i think he did get sick a couple times

A beat. Xiao Yueqing’s typing indicator vanishes on the screen—probably she’s been pulled away to talk to someone in real life. Then, after a moment, it pops up again.

MOON 🌺: he was toooootally

Lin Ling waits with bated breath.

MOON 🌺: insufferable :/

He very nearly falls out of his chair.

Nice, insufferable? The very Nice who Miss J described as excessively polite, the very Nice who couldn’t seem to make anyone hate him, even if he tried? That Nice? Insufferable?

LL: Come again???

LL: You’re going to have to elaborate, I’m not following

MOON 🌺: well u alrdy know nice was like a bit of a neat freak

MOON 🌺: when he got sick it was like cranked up to 200%. he was soo fussy abt everything

MOON 🌺: brought him tea once out of pity and he nearly bit my head off bc i made the water 15 degrees too hot for the type of tea or smth??? like there’s no way u can even taste the difference when ur congested???

LL: Oh

Lin Ling doesn’t quite know what to make of this information. He’d never thought that Nice might be anything other than pleasant, especially to Xiao Yueqing. Even learning that his entire relationship with her had been scripted hadn’t changed that.

LL: Maybe it was too bitter for him?

MOON 🌺: extremely rude

MOON 🌺: dont start taking his side now

LL: Sorry, sorry, it was nice of you to make him tea

MOON 🌺: ur on thin ice 🫵

LL: I’m sure it was delicious

LL: Please go on

MOON 🌺: this other time i caught him rearranging all the medicine in the agency cabinet 

MOON 🌺: like some crazy organization system based on strength and symptoms targeted and duration and wtvr

MOON 🌺: he was at it for like an hour. and when i asked him why he was there it turned out he was looking for

MOON 🌺: cough syrup and he just got distracted. but he got annoyed at me and insisted they had to be sorted for some reason and so i left him alone 

LL: That’s heroic

LL:Do you think he was delirious?

MOON 🌺: honestly that would be giving him too much credit

MOON 🌺: hey

MOON 🌺: why r u asking abt this anyways =.=;;

He freezes. He isn’t quite sure how to justify himself, other than the fact that it’s natural that he’s curious about the very person he’s supposed to be replacing. But she’s right—usually, he would go to Miss J with questions like this. Not Xiao Yueqing, who he’s learning seems to be happiest when she’s avoiding thinking about the old Nice altogether. 

LL: No particular reason 

MOON 🌺: hmmm~

MOON 🌺: you just happened to be curious abt nice for no particular reason?

LL: He seemed so put together all the time

LL: I just wondered

LL: Wasn’t sure if he could even get sick in the first place 

For a long moment, she doesn’t respond again. He lets himself think that maybe she’s gone for real, now, offline to haggle with some vendor or book some kind of ticket, or maybe she’s found someone to have lunch-or-dinner-or-whatever-meal-lines-up-with-her-timezone with. His head feels heavy. He’s more tired than he usually is at this time of night. Maybe he should call it a night early.

Then his phone vibrates in his hands. Onscreen, in bright white characters: INCOMING CALL.

He scrambles to pick up the call, nearly drops his phone in the process.

“You are not a very good liar,” is the first thing Xiao Yueqing says.

It’s his first time hearing her voice in weeks. It sounds a little tinny through the speakers, the higher frequencies a little harsher than the crystal-clear recording quality he’s used to from her advertising livestreams. He holds onto it like it’s a lifeline.

“Sorry?”

“I said what I said. Are you going to tell me how long you’ve been sick?”

For a second, Lin Ling feels a flash of anxiousness in his chest—could she tell, just from that one word of his? Did she know, even before he picked up this call? “...I don’t recall ever saying that I was.”

“Uh huh. So you’re just studying what Nice was like when he was sick for fun,” Xiao Yueqing says. “Just as a trivia question, nothing more.”

Lin Ling bristles. “I’m supposed to be him,” he says. Winces when he can hear the congestion in his—Nice’s—voice. “Learning about him is part of the job.”

“Yeah, so that’s why you texted me to ask about it. That’s the only reason.”

“I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t— s-seriously missing the mark…” Lin Ling really doesn’t want to be interrupted. His nose has other plans. This time, the action of turning to shield the sneeze with his elbow comes reflexively, even though there’s no one else here. “hH… Hhii-HH-GZSCHh-Hiiew! -hhIh… Snf-! IIh—!!!’KKTSHh-EwW!—-iiih…”

His face feels like it’s aflame. The phone speaker is right there, he berates himself. He really should have moved it away, who knows how loud those were on her end, who knows how close she was holding her phone to her ear, who knows what she might be thinking now—

“Bless you!” Xiao Yueqing says breezily, sounding utterly unfazed. Her voice has taken on a different turn, now—something closer to concern. “Man, you sound pretty rough. How are you holding up?”

“I’m not—” Lin Ling starts, and then breaks off into an undignified cough. “It’s just—”

His voice cracks on the syllable. As if there could be anything more embarrassing.

“You can say, you know,” Xiao Yueqing says, a little softer now. “However you’re feeling, you can say. It’s like I said. I’ve seen Nice sick a handful of times already. It’s not anything new to me.”

Lin Ling considers this for a long moment.

“...In that case,” he says, with another sniffle. “I’m–I’m probably getting a cold. I didn’t mean to bother you at—ahh, I don’t know what time it is there. I don’t even feel that siIIhh… iIhh’ii’DSHhH-EEew!—hh… snf… hhEh…!”

“Bless you again! Times two?”

“—-G’KTTSSHh—IiEEw! ugh… thanks.” He takes a tissue out from the tissue box, folds it in half, buries his face into it. “I’m sorry I’ve been doing that so much. It’s probably right next to your ear.”

“You sneeze differently from him,” Xiao Yueqing says, with a breathless little laugh that makes something tighten in Lin Ling’s chest. He can’t help but feel like he’s making a fool out of himself in front of his longtime—well, crush is probably the right word for it, just going off of definitions, but it seems laughably inadequate in the face of everything.

“Oh,” Lin Ling says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I can fix that. How did he sneeze?”

“Don’t fix it,” Xiao Yueqing says, sounding gleeful. “I think it sounds cute.”

He definitely heard her wrong there. “Cute?”

“The more ways in which you differ from Nice, the better.”

He shakes his head, despairing. “I can’t accept that. If I happen to sneeze in public—”

“No one will notice any difference,” she says. “It’s just a sneeze. You’re so concerned about acting in character, but have you stopped at all to think about how you’re feeling? Like even once? Did your own health ever once factor into your concerns?”

The defensiveness he feels—the defensiveness he’s felt, this entire conversation—gives way for something else, something like resignation.

“...I don’t know why it would,” Lin Ling says, honestly. It’s more than he means to admit.

Xiao Yueqing makes a noise that’s somewhere between exasperation and understanding. There’s another moment of silence. Lin Ling wonders how it’s possible to feel so strangely exposed over a phone call, even though she can’t see him, even though this is their first time talking in weeks.

“I called to tell you there’s this herbal tea in the kitchen of your flat, in the third drawer from the right side,” she says. “It’ll work wonders on your throat, if it’s hurting. You’re still early into this cold, so it probably is, right?” Lin Ling doesn’t have the time to process how she knows this. “Oh, and there are extra blankets in the storage closet, to the opposite side of the elevators. Three, I think, but the yellow one with white stripes is the warmest. Text me if you can’t find them.”

He blinks, a little overwhelmed. “How do you know all this?”

“I did live there for years, whether I liked it or not. Oh, and Lin Ling?”

“Yes?”

“Take care,” Xiao Yueqing says, sounding sincere. The call goes dead. 

Lin Ling sits there for awhile, his phone dark in his hands, contemplating the feeling in his chest, the strange weight to it.

Then he gets up to head to the kitchen in search of tea.

[vagueeyes]

INSIDE NO. 9 | S3E5 "Diddle Diddle Dumpling"

[jackwolfes]

a good railing

season 3 era buddie ft bickering, bondage, and oh so much praise ✨❤️

(read on ao3)

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 25

2019

camera shy [david/patrick, E, 6,960] by @wild-aloof-rebel

“You two are the face of Rose Apothecary, David,” Alexis says in that breezy way that means she thinks he’s being deliberately obtuse. “And putting a face with the name personalizes your brand and helps build an emotional bond that increases customer loyalty.” “Did you choke on a textbook?” Alexis thinks that making videos of David and Patrick talking about how they met is somehow going to help the store. David thinks he'd rather throw up.

Imagine a world like this [david/patrick, T, 678] by schittsgeek

Spoiler warning: this is set post Season 5 Episode 11 credit roll It's super cheesy and was written while listening to Imagine by Ariana Grande on repeat if you want the full experience.

My Sweet Boy [david/patrick, T, 1,682] by @stargatewars

**SPOILERS FOR MEET THE PARENTS - S05E11** Marcy thinks about her son, Patrick, his past and his future, after finding out about his relationship with David.

2020

cause there is no guarantee that this life is easy [david/patrick, G, 2,116] by lucianowriter

Patrick Brewer is upset. Marriage is supposed to be a team effort. So why does he feel like he's being left behind? Set directly after 6x12.

Decision [david/patrick, G, 611] by ThighsLikeTreeTrunks

Patrick thinks about moving to New York.

Five Roads Home [david/patrick, M, 2,133] by @whetherwoman

Five different choices David and Patrick might make.

grow where you're planted [david/patrick, G, 637] by patrickbrewer

David steps closer and holds out a hand. Patrick finally looks up at him, brown eyes wide and sad in the pale moonlight. He hesitates, and David sighs. “You know I’m not going to come down there and get grass stains on my outfit. My mom already made me kneel on the dirty motel floor today. Please?” Despite everything, Patrick lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he takes David’s hand.

Just Let Me Adore You [david/patrick, G, 1,569] by pennilesspoet

They need to talk about New York.

oh the wonders of confidence and a suit [stevie/ruth, T, 505] by @hullomoon [*editors note: this is the first stevie/ruth fic!]

Stevie gets to know Ruth

we found love (right where we are) [david/patrick, NR, 1,609] by @banesapothecary

Patrick knows that look all too well. It’s a look that says David is expecting the worst case scenario; a look that expects an end.

you're the only one i'll ever know [david/patrick, E, 1,893] by thegrayness

David comes home after a long day and Patrick helps him relax.

you're the sweetest thing [david/patrick, NR, 6,805] by @maxbegone

Patrick would choose David over everything else. It will always be David. Or, a series of moments where Patrick realizes how much David means to him.

2021

do you know me better than i know myself? [david/patrick, T, 1,550] by budd

David has a reluctant conversation with Patrick after he finds out he's seeing a therapist. Title from "Better" by Ben Platt

Find Your Bliss [david/patrick, M, 5,054] by @trueillusion82

The third sign, which David nearly tripped over, said, Come on in and let your stress and anxiety melt away, with an arrow pointing toward the door of a rather nondescript looking business whose logo featured a lotus flower in a calming shade of aquamarine. The small waiting area he could see through the front window appeared to be decorated in complementary shades of blue, white, and gray, with soft lighting and plush chairs. The whole space just looked… inviting. And warm, despite the coolness of the color scheme. His curiosity already piqued, he stepped back to peer up at the teal awning overhead, the front edge of which featured a swoopy font spelling out the name of the business: Utopia. While the sentiment was certainly intriguing, it told David absolutely nothing about what this business actually was -- aside from something that he could probably use, if the claims on their signs were anywhere near correct.

Guyana [twyla/oc, T, 300] by Rosey_Peach

If the World Was Ending [david/patrick, M, 8,524] by TheBasilRathbone

After Rachel's sudden appearance in town, David asks for some space to unpack what's happened. Patrick gives it to him. Two years later, David is back in New York, and his life only seems to be coming apart at the seams. And then, lonely and afraid and on the brink of disaster, there's a knock on the door of his basement apartment.

Make It Better [david/patrick, T, 12,462] by @agoodpersonrose

Marcy knows now that the Patrick she knew, the Patrick she raised, is different to the man she sees now. But seeing the evidence of this change so clearly in front of her is more than a little jarring. OR, five things Marcy Brewer learns about her son on his first visit back to the the family home, and one thing that stays the same.

Shiny [stevie & johnny, G, 1,172] by Brokencheese

Stevie hadn’t ever really done the ‘play’ thing when she was little. Her mom was seemingly always busy or angry for one reason to indulge anything she might want to try and it was all Stevie could do to not get in her way. Her house was chaotic and so often full of screaming cousins and hungover aunts and uncles who smelled bad and said bad words. There was always someone else to look after, someone’s nose to wipe, someone’s needs to care about over her own. She didn’t resent it- it’s just how things were. **After arranging one heck of a bachelor party for David and Patrick, Stevie has some feelings she needs to work through.

2022

[podfic] and by tomorrow i'll be on my way [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @hullomoon

In real life David and Patrick wouldn't want to be in the same room as the other, online however they're close friends. or a You've Got Mail AU [podfic of and by tomorrow I'll be on my way]

a glimpse of relief [david/patrick, T, 1,171] by wiccamoody

Patrick is having a boring night at the Wobbly Elm. Enter David, done with everything and maybe just what Patrick needs.

Can you imagine? [david/patrick, T, 621] by snorkel_maiden

Patrick finds something new and unexpected on the internet.

I'm surprised (that you've never been told before) [david/patrick, T, 32,646] by @beaiola

When his friend Ted asks Patrick for a favour, he knows it isn't the type of thing he should agree to. After all, asking out a guy so your friend can date his sister isn't the most morally sound of choices. But Ted's his best friend. And he's been crazy about Alexis Rose since the first time he saw her. It helps that the brother is David Rose and David Rose is... intriguing. Even if he seems to want nothing to do with Patrick. 10 Things I Hate About You AU

Once More with Feeling [david/patrick, T, 5,107] by @jettestar

When a musical spell is cast over the residents of Schitt's Creek, Patrick the Vampire Slayer and his friends are forced to reveal truths and feelings that they have carefully kept hidden to each other.

Room [david/patrick, NR, 955] by @tyfinn

David needs a place to get away...

Selling Schitt's Creek [alexis/twyla, T, 4,547] by @sarahlevys @lilythesilly @nerdframed @typewritess

The elite agents at The Butani Group sell the rural Ontario life to buyers in the Schitt’s Creek and greater Elmdale area. Relationships are everything, and that often means major drama. Inspired by the Netflix series, Selling Sunset.

Sensory friendly [david/patrick, G, 1,100] by lesbiantism

A comment from a customer sends David on a journey of self discovery

teenage dirtbag(s) [stevie/ruth, T, 6,055] by @treepyful

"I think her name is Noelle." "Hm?" Stevie grunted around her slushie straw, tipping her head at David in question. "The new girl," he clarified, and Stevie tore her eyes away from the unfolding scene in front of her to give him an affronted look. "I heard someone call her that yesterday." "Why would I care what some asshole prep's name is?" Stevie stirred her slushie aggressively – she'd taken a chance on the cafeteria's new flavour and was not impressed. David snorted. "I don't know, maybe because you've been staring at her like a starving dog." Stevie flipped him the bird and stole a french fry from his tray. ** A sapphic Schitt's Creek High School AU of Teenage Dirtbag.

Two Tears in a Bucket [david/patrick, E, 24,023] by HowOldAreWe

“Well, I guess it’s just like my mama always said. ‘Two tears in a bucket. Motherfuck it.’”- The Lady Chablis Patrick Brewer is in Savannah for three days, covering David Rose's legendary Ides of March Gala. At least, that's the plan until he finds himself entangled in a messy murder investigation and head over heels for the man who pulled the trigger.

wish i was the moon tonight [david/patrick, T, 7,102] by @stereopticons

David begrudgingly accepts that if there’s no option for pharmaceutical intervention, maybe this stupid Calm app is his best next choice. Ted never needs to know that David took his suggestion. He skips over the guided meditation options; he tried meditation in New York and found it impossible to not engage with every thought that crossed his mind. The sleep stories, though, sound not promising, exactly, but reasonable enough. David suffers from insomnia after moving to Schitt's Creek and turns to the sleep stories on Calm to help him fall asleep. Brewer's Baseball History is the only thing that helps, but what happens when the voice behind those stories shows up in town?

2023

Cherry Blossoms and Apologies [david & stevie, T, 779] by @tyfinn

Stevie has a surprise for David.

Just One Night [david/patrick, E, 9,842] by swift_wind

Patrick bites the bullet, and swipes his finger across the screen. *Matched* Oh fuck. ———— Patrick just needs one night, one hookup, to test a theory he has about himself. A dating app seems the most efficient method…right?

We're Not Doing Pooch [david/patrick, T, 2,851] by @wearpersistencewell

When two of David and Patrick's friends are faced with a difficult decision, David steps in. Because he is a good person. Or, David and Patrick adopt a dog.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 3 fics/9,320 words 2020: 9 fics/18,078 words 2021: 6 fics/29,062 words 2022: 11 fanworks (10 fics, 1 podfic)/83,444 words 2023: 3 fics/13,472 words Total: 32 fanworks (31 fics, 1 podfic)/153,376 words

[probssomethingorother]

Several months ago I compiled this list of post-winter/Silver Lake fics, and at that time, I said I would eventually try to transfer it all over to Ao3 in a bookmark or collection of some sort.

✨TODAY IS FINALLY THE DAY ✨

Post Pages: An After Silver Lake Fic Repository

I have made a Last of Us Ao3 Collection specifically for those fill-in-the-blank fics we all crave.

It is currently an open but moderated collection, so come join and add to it with me! I have bookmarked folks' fics from the OG list into the collection, but also please feel free to go in and add your own works directly to the collection! The more the merrier!

I will also be bookmarking new 8ers that I see on ao3 into the collection too. If this collection starts to pop off, maybe (BIG MAYBE I am bad at follow through) I will do a round up at the end of each month highlighting the new additions.

When adding/bookmarking a work into the Collection it should pop up pretty quickly if you type "Post Pages" :)

HAPPY READING!

[Side note: Yes, I know the name is lowkey horrible but I tried??]

REBLOG IF YOU CAN TO SPREAD THE BRAINROT :)

[mytardisisparked]

To Show That Time Has Passed

In the hospital, immediately after the events of DeadAlive, Mulder begins to notice just how much time has passed since he was in Bellefleur.

Read on AO3

He’s stuck in a sort of limbo where he knows he’s been gone for months – he can feel it, can sense it, can see the evidence of it in the people around him – but his mind still thinks that, just yesterday, he was in the woods around Bellefleur, Oregon with Skinner.

Her hair is longer. It’s shiny and healthy, which is an offset to the dark circles under her eyes. He can see the time that has passed in the red strands, set aglow by the faint hospital lights around him. She tells him he’s been gone for over six months.

His face itches. She holds his hand in hers and tells him not to scratch it. 

There’s a memory floating just underneath the surface, attached to the scabs on his face. He doesn’t touch it. He lets the mild sedatives he’s currently on keep the memory out of reach. He’s not ready.

She’s happy to see him. She’s missed him for six months and he can see every mile of that in her eyes. He loves her even more for it, though he can feel guilt looming, hard and heavy, over his head. He suspects that it will set in once he leaves the hospital and all of its safety; once they return to reality and he has to face the time he has missed more fully.

He keeps studying her face and sees something else tucked away behind her gaze. She’s holding something back and she’s itching to let it out.

“Scully?” His voice rasps.

She holds his hand, her thumb drawing nervous little circles ever-so-gently against his skin.

“Mulder.” She’s being avoidant – she’s always been a bad liar. 

He tilts his head at her in a silent question and she crumbles, bringing his hand to her lips as a fresh set of tears line her eyes in silver. 

“You were away a long time and– and I’m trying to ease you back into everything.” She gives him a weak smile, and he pulls his hand from her grasp to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingertips over her cheek.

“I appreciate that, but something’s clearly eating you.”

She chokes out a watery laugh. “Not exactly.”

Confusion washes over him until, with a hesitant smile, she sits back and rests a hand on her belly.

Oh?

Oh.

Oh.

“You’re–” he chokes on the next word; the weight of the months he’s been gone and all of the guilt he knew he would eventually feel finally hit him. 

She nods and looks down at the swell of her abdomen. 

At her baby. He thinks, feeling a little dizzy. Scully finally got her baby.

He’s too tired and sedated to consider how that baby came to be, but he can see the joy in her eyes, even through the frame of tears. She’s wanted this for so long and she’s happy. 

He feels happy, too, despite everything.

He reaches up to scratch his face. She catches his hand before he can. 

“Mulder, you’ll open your wounds.” She keeps his hand in hers, warming it. 

“Sorry,” he gives her a sheepish smile. His eyes fall back to her waist.

Now that she’s bent toward him, he can’t really see the bump, but he’s hyperaware of its existence; of the baby’s existence. He wonders how she manages to think of anything else, because he sure as hell can’t.

He wonders how far along she is.

“Mulder you should get some rest.” As soon as the words leave her lips, he feels the truth of them in the weight of his eyelids. He blinks slowly and she smiles. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He knows she means it, which is the only reason his mind lets him fall asleep. 

In his dreams, he sees a mobile made of stars and a tiny figure bundled up in the blanket his mother used on him and Samantha. The baby within giggles in delight as the stars above swirl and twinkle. 

If he has any other dreams that night, any nightmares , he cannot remember.

[agencypeach]

I couldn't get this little missing scene out of my head!!! I mean how do we go from Niko asking him if he knows it's okay to be gay to just straight up asking if he wants to kiss boys in the next episode?! I think perhaps they did have some discussions between the episodes, and while Edwin was still figuring himself out, Niko was able to suss him out for certain.

"Niko, I am afraid you might have misunderstood me earlier at the library today... Of course, I know that two boys can - what did you say?- Ah, "like like each other." I may have died in 1916, but my politics certainly did not stagnate there. I simply meant... while, yes, Monty and I are both boys, that is just... not where my... proclivities lie."

Niko stares at him with what can only be described as gentle confusion and asks "Okay... so you're saying you don't want to date boys?" Edwin tries not to panic because he can hear the doubt in her question.

"Precisely. Frankly, I do not think courting as a whole is in the books for me. I never truly understood the appeal, " he explains. Niko looks at him with poorly hidden sadness at this comment.

"Well, that's toootally okay. You don't have to date anybody if you don't want to! But... I really think you should still read some of my manga. They can be very informative."

[ghoulbrain]

"Not much stays clean up here, Vaultie. You'll see."

obsessed with how the ghoul views lucy's clean principles as morality of convenience, as something that is unsustainable in the world she now finds herself in, something she will lose. not only that, he's determined to be the thing she loses it to. to him, she's fresh snow: an inevitable corruption.

hell, he probably thinks he's doing her a favor. he's thinking of all the ways he's seen people lose that part of themselves. he's seen the worst humanity has to offer. he's seen 'a decided uptick' in torture. what we see him put her through is small potatoes by comparison.

she's not in her vault anymore, and if she doesn't stop acting like it, there's a whole lot worse out there than him.