#eternal hospitals

[ruporas]

i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

[harvestmoth]

anyways !! her :]

[nelkcats]

Phantom Fever

When Danny left Amity he was pretty sure it would be a quick trip. He wasn't expecting a few days' visit to Gotham to check some annoying "co-workers" of Vlad's, a gala and a serious case of fever.

Being fair, Danny didn't know that ghosts could get sick, or how much damage this could do. His powers went completely haywire, activating and deactivating in the middle of the street, and it was only thanks to Vlad that he was able to come up with an excuse or two.

Vlad obviously didn't expect him to get sick either, if his disgusted face was anything to go by. The two had a truce of sorts but it was obvious they were only on friendly terms thanks to Jack Fenton.

Danny didn't feel like locking himself in a room and drinking soup. He wanted to call Frostbite, but he was too far away from the Realms, and the halfa refused to let Vlad check on him.

So he ended up on the streets of Gotham, spreading early winter and ice stalagmites in his wake. It was just luck that Vlad found him before the bats, who were obviously interested in the new development. Danny wondered how he was supposed to attend the gala in those conditions.

[hitlikehammers]

nowhere without you

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-final battle, hurt/comfort ♥️ tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, BIG emotions, even BIGGER love, as in: soul-deep love, softness; happy endings always ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

(also probably the humble love-soaked endlessly-devoted beginnings of the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien)

The weirdest part is how, in the aftermath, Eddie doesn’t speak. Like, at all.

Scratch that: it’s the weirdest and the most concerning part. Eddie makes noise, mostly pained kinda moans that make Steve’s chest clench, ache more the admittedly-decently-deep wounds slowly—but reliably, like, consistently—stitching themselves together, and Steve begs him to get looked at again, because something has to be wrong to cause those kinds of sounds but Eddie doesn’t even shake his head, doesn’t really move at all save that sometimes he trembles, and it’s…

It fucking breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s almost gotten used to stroking Eddie’s hair in silence—so wrong; worthy Eddie that’s just so wrong—and working any tangles out so, much as it’s getting a limp and greasy with days of neglect, at least it’s smooth; but he’s almost resigned to this for the long haul because he’ll weather anything he has to for Eddie and they’ll work through this, whatever this is, they’ll worth through it together and—

“How did you stand you it?”

The sound is more a scratch than anything, glass on sandpaper, and it’s down to Eddie lying where he hasn’t left for the last four, going on five days—as in, not once while Steve’s been awake has he existed without Eddie’s weight situated just so against his chest, sinuous and deliberate in where he presses against, careful as a rule of Steve’s worst injuries and delicate about how he rests against Steve’s body, but not…hesitant.

More, kinda…kinda desperate.

So it’s down to him being pressed so close and sure and unwavering that Steve feels him speak more than anything, matches the motion of his lips against Steve’s gown to words rather than the wind, or something outside his door to the halls of the hospital beyond; it’s down to the tension in the whole of him, the all-too-present shaking that Steve matches the scrape of the question to a hurt that’s…that maybe Steve doesn’t wholly understand just yet, but that really and truly does cut him deeper and closer and more critical at the core of him than the Upside Down ever could have clawed in: Eddie lives in him, nothing else can really…ever hope to be deeper.

“How are you,” Eddie rolls gravel across more words, and Steve’s missed his voice so fucking much, he didn’t realize how much until it’s here again for him to hear and hold but, Jesus fuck, it’s like…it’s like it’s drowning; like Eddie is drowning and then his breath is hitching, and oh, god, that voice is cracking around the edge of a sob, watery and wavering as he damn-near close to begs:

“How did you survive it?”

Steve feels it clench in his ribs, because he thinks he…he thinks he’s putting it together. The strain, the agony in that voice, that voice he loves so fucking much, from this man he loves with everything, but then—the way Eddie presses into him. The force, and the position, and the pattern. The way he’s been quiet, unfailing, but never…never seems distant, seems the opposite: seems focused; intent. The way Dustin had come in and caught him upon the things he’d missed in one of the almost-nonexistent windows where Eddie sleeps, hand lines alongside his sternum and head curled in the most uncomfortable pretzel Steve can imagine, forehead all scrunched and eyes squeezed shut so goddamn hard, looking like any sleep he manages is nothing close to rest by any measure: but Dustin had came in and told him Eddie was the first to him; Eddie ran faster than he’d seen a person run; Eddie’d looked devastated, broken when they’d caught up, and they’d been so afraid, feared the worst, and—

Steve’s starting to fit the pieces together. Maybe.

“No,” Eddie whines, pitchy and fervent and almost ear-splitting, like a wail of sheer gut-wrenching pain that Steve can’t find the reason for in the here and now because it’s just them in a hospital room, they’re okay, and his hand presses heavy, gentle around his wounds still, always gentle and so, so careful and Steve doesn’t know what’s caused the reaction, but then—

Then he can feel his fucking heartbeat for how hard Eddie’s pressing. It’s weird, how it makes him feel…strangely alive, the sensation of it kept and held like that, specifically in Eddie’s hand. And he’s not paying attention to the monitors really, tuned them out as quick as he could but when he listens, okay. Okay, maybe faster than normal, but Steve’s fucking worried, okay, he’s—

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans and twists his head, no, not just his head, his ear and leans harder into Steve’s chest, his breathing shallow and Steve hates it but he doesn’t know what to do, how to help, what to fix because he’ll fix it if he knows, he’ll climb out of this bed and crawl on the goddamn floors of he has to, but he doesn’t know where to go, what to find, what demon’s left to slay—

“I’m just, I’m grateful you did,” survive, Steve survived…

He survived, like, now?

“But grateful’s such a weak word, it doesn’t,” and Steve takes a breath, and reaches, rests his hand on Eddie’s wrist just to see: his heartbeat’s somuch faster, it’s like a flutter of a flutter felt strong enough to break through skin, it catches in Steve’s heart just to touch—

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever, like,” Eddie’s going on, still breathless and fuck, Steve can see why; “fucking hope to be.”

Shit, but that’s…he wasn’t stronger, fuck, Steve wasn’t stronger than Eddie, Eddie nearly got eaten alive, Steve nearly couldn’t staunch enough of the bleeding, he almost lost—

Eddie keens, horrible and hurting and Steve stills: the monitor. The thundering of his own pulse at the memory.

How did you survive it?

Losing. Almost losing. That’s…that’s what it is.

That’s why Eddie’s pressed against his chest, his his head and his hand have been a fucking frame, goddamn, like, parentheses surrounding Steve’s beating heart, proof of life, Jesus—

“But I need to be,” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but steadier, and his chin dips like a nod to himself; “I need to learn how,” he’s firm with it; “for you.”

Oh, god. Oh…oh Eddie.

“I can’t ever lose you, Steve,” Eddie presses trembling lips to Steve’s chest and then presses close again, so close and oh: he wasn’t just intent where he’s been silent so long.

He was listening.

“Never ever,” he breathes against Steve, hot and damp; almost kinda breathless again, or still: “never ever.”

“Eds,” Steve begins, not even entirely sure where he plans to go, just knows he needs to do something, say something, but Eddie’s turning Steve’s hand in his, where he’d circled Eddie’s wrist; he’s turning it and mirroring the hold, gripping Steve’s wrist in kind.

“I couldn’t find it,” he gasps, and the sound makes the sob clear before Steve feels the wetness soak through to his skin; “I couldn’t feel it at all, you were, it,” he presses his fingers in hard, squeezes so goddamn tight, and Steve can’t…he doesn’t want to imagine what Eddie had to do, what Eddie found and felt, he doesn’t but he can, because he remembers the mirror image so stark, it took him so long because he couldn’t find a pulse either, he’d had to press on Eddie’s heart at the source and even then—

“I couldn’t feel you.”

Oh. Fuck. He—

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s elevated enough at an angle that he can at least kiss Eddie’s hair, barely brush his scalp but it’s enough, for the breath that punches from Eddie against his chest it’s at least something; “that’s…”

“I won’t survive that again, Steve,” Eddie sucks in, unsteady and drenched with tears, with sorrow, but also…also more than anything else, they’re filled up with so much love.

A love big enough to hurt that hard.

“And I can’t…” Eddie gasps, breath catching; “I can’t handle not feeling it,” and his fingers tighten; his hand on Steve’s chest and his cheek across from it press down that extra little bit so Steve knows his own heartbeat in those moments full and deep.

“Have to feel it always,” Eddie whispers like he’s telling himself, and Steve, and Steve’s heart through flesh and bone, some cosmic secret no one else can know: too sacred. Too precious.

“You can feel it any time,” Steve lets his hand fall from Eddie’s to cover the hand Eddie’s got splayed ln his chest, counting time; holds him there almost protectively: “all the time,” and he slips his fingers between Eddie’s and shifts his palm close to the beating, so he can still feel what he needs as he murmurs with his heart literally in Eddie’s hands, with his entire goddamn soul:

“All of me. It’s yours.”

Unshakable fucking fact. He doesn’t even have to will it, or hope for it; his heartbeat knocks that heavier against their hands for those words like it knows.

It knows.

“Don’t leave me,” Eddie bursts out, begging; almost something primal, and Steve can feel the tremoring of his lips where they drag against him; “please. I’ll do anything, I swear it, just don’t—“

“Be you,” Steve braves the whimper that comes from untangling his hand from Eddie so that he can reach for Eddies cheek and cradle him in closer, and oh, fuck, thank god: something in him sighs out and loosens, ever so slightly—finally.

“Everything you are,” Steve presses on, runs his thumb back and forth through Eddie’s drooping curls; “let me love you, past living and dying,” and Eddie’s breath catches, for that, but Steve holds him tighter for it, drowns him as best he’s able in the proof he needs so bad; “don’t leave me,” and Eddie huffs a little for that, like it’s beyond believing, impossible, and Steve smiles to himself for it, tries to lean enough to press the grin to Eddie’s head, hopes he manages as he murmurs there close:

“That’s it, Eddie,” and he lets his fingers spread wider, cradle Eddie all the more: “that’s all I need.”

“That and more baby,” Eddie answers him between the double-beat of his pulse, immediate; “you’re the music and the rhythm,” he nuzzles a little against him, and Steve smiles a little wider for it; “you’re the reason my heart beats,” and Steve finds that heartbeat for himself at Eddie’s jaw, now; a little calmer. Not much. But: something.

It’s a start.

”I don’t have a reason without you,” Eddie exhales, vehement; “I don’t want a reason, without you.”

And Steve should maybe push on it, or be scared by it: but neither seem right, not for this.

Not for them.

Steve just holds Eddie’s pulse under the pressure of his touch, and holds Eddie’s cheek closer still into his chest as he breathes:

“You’re my whole heart, Eds,” and he lets a second pass, and then another, for that heart of Eddie’s to pump evidence unshakable against him, to play the song and rhythm straight into his waiting ear:

“Was never going anywhere without you.”

♥️ ao3 link here

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

[survivalistghost]

What to watch next?

kdrama edition

hey! just got done with a mainstream drama and looking for some drama with the same feels? got it!

comment the drama below if it’s not in this list

1. weightlifting fairy kim bok joo

lighthearted, funny, strong fl with simp male

watch next : strong woman do bong soon

where : bilibili.com

2. business proposal

office romance, strong second couple chemistry, savage fl and a bit airheaded ml

watch next : what’s wrong with secretary kim?, descendants of the sun, love to hate you (the misandry is a bit high for the first eps, bear with it if you can), romance is a bonus book, king the land

where : netflix, bilibili.com

3. vincenzo

ACTION!!! good looking men in suits, strong fl with senti dad arc, men with questionable morals

watch next : my name (contains triggering themes, watch at own discretion), the k2

where : netflix, bilibili

4. guardian : the lonely and great god

fantasy, meant-to-be pairings, AMAZING second lead romances

watch next : touch your heart (sort of like a grim reaper sunny au), the king - eternal monarch, tale of the nine tailed, doom at your service, my demon

where : netflix, bilibili

5. reply 1988

feel good, group of friends, slice of life, AMAZING platonic chemistry

watch next : hospital playlist

where : netflix, bilibili

6. true beauty

bromance, love triangle with happy ending

watch next : the heirs, boys over flowers (if you can handle lee min ho’s horrendous perm), f4 thailand (if youre interested in thai dramas)

where : netflix, bilibili

7. all of us are dead

zombie, romance, political/military questionable

watch next : happiness

8. crash course in romance

(requested by @starryalpacasstuff )

famous ml, headstrong and self reliant fl, both place value in their work and respect each other (at the end)

watch next : love to hate you, or if you want a mockumentary-style romance, lovestruck in the city is my go to!

9. bad and crazy

(requested by @hyeon-yi )

crackhead duo, bromance~, MENtal issues, crime crime, stabby stabby

watch next : the worst of evil, dp, the devil judge, beyond evil

10. hometown cha cha cha

feel good vibes, seaside town, sappy romance, CUTEST couple

watch next : welcome to samdalri

tell me other kdramas youve seen in the comments and ill add recommendations!

[caramellles]

"as time passed, we gradually began to feel that the worst was over. we still had to heal our physical and mental wounds, but we really started to come back to life."

[hold-him-down]

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. (Humbly requesting the Felix one)

I cannot provide the Felix thing because it is, in its current form, incomprehensible chaos outline, but I can provide this:

Luke hears Rob take a breath. “Leo’s in the hospital.” As Luke’s world comes to a screeching halt, Rob hesitates.

Luke nods, forcibly keeping himself as calm as he can. If he could reach through the phone and shake his brother until he spoke faster, he would, he thinks, but he takes a breath, waiting.

When it's clear Rob is not immediately sharing every known detail, Luke chokes out, “Rob-”

“He’s okay,” Rob says then. “I think. I’m here, at the hospital. I’ve spoken with the attending, and she said… that he’s calm now, but they won’t let me see him.”

“What happened?” are all the words Luke can form.

“I don’t have all the details,” Rob says. “I’ve been assured that he’s calm, and that he’s safe, and that no one will touch him. I don’t… I don’t think he’s even injured. The best I can piece together is… that he had a panic attack at the grocery store, he was having trouble breathing, I… I think he asked someone for help, and at some point they called an ambulance.” There’s a pause, before Rob says, “They won’t let me see him.”

Luke’s jaw aches from how hard he bites down. “Did you tell them I’m a Senator?”

“Yes, Luke,” Rob says.

[tyranitarkisser]

Nurse Mituna?! Do you trust her....

[shellsy-woolbag]

INFO-POST✂️📐

🍋 — Some about me! you can call me: Alan, Kru, Shelda Fan №1. My pronouns: He/Him. Im a t-boy. Im 13 years old. Zodiac sign: ♌. Mbti: ISTP. Rus/Eng.

📐 — My fandoms: Lololowka, Bugsnax, Dandy's World, Cult of the lamb, Warrior Cats, Project remix, Wobbledogs, Eternal Cylinder, Phiting, Land of Kings , Regretevator, Slime Rancher, Undertale, Deltarune, Palworld, Pax, RainWorld, Kinitopet, Soybean, One Wheat Mark, Sparklecare Hospital, Zoochosis, mouthwashing. Favourite YouTubers: Perpetuum. Favourite music artists: sodikken, Britney Spears, Полматери, Суспензия, ТВОИ КОШМАРЫ, Mitski, Rebzyyx, MAMA RUSSIA, Lemon demon, Дайте танк (!), Marina the diamonds.

🐝 — Kins list: Ched (Last Reality), Floofty Fizlebean (Bugsnax), Alphys (Undertale), Heket (Cult of the lamb), Shelda (Bugsnax)

✨ — DNI: Base. They can also interact with my tumblr posts, but not with me.

[specialagentartemis]

I promise this has lore but it’s equally silly, so:

Young Daniel Fenton, only four-and-ten Years on this turning Earth had he yet seen, When the most peculiar machine His parents built, to view beyond their ken. Their disappointment overcame them when It failed; but Daniel, with his interest keen, Made the fateful choice to look again.

A flash! and then his whole world came undone. His atoms ripp'd asunder, in a glow Of green. His hair was bleach'd as white as snow. But he was not alone. A fearful squall Of spirits enter'd Earth under the sun. Phantasmic Daniel, he would catch them all!

[a-typical]

In her 1932 painting Self-Portrait on the Borderline between Mexico and the United States, a defiant Frida straddles an imaginary boundary between Mexico and Detroit, where she was living at the time with her husband, the muralist Diego Rivera. The Mexican side is strewn with skulls, ruins, plants, and flowers with thick roots burrowed deep into the soil. The Detroit side contains factories, skyscrapers, and plumes of smoke—an industrial city that hides the natural cycle of life and death.

While living in Detroit, Kahlo became pregnant. She wrote of the pregnancy to her former physician, Leo Eloesser, her devoted correspondent from 1932 to 1951. She worried that pregnancy was too dangerous, that her body had been damaged by the famous streetcar accident that shattered part of her pelvis and punctured her uterus. Kahlo reported that her doctor in Detroit “gave me quinine and very strong castor oil for purge.” When the chemicals failed to end the pregnancy, her doctor declined to perform a surgical abortion, and Kahlo faced the prospect of carrying the risky pregnancy to term. She begged Eloesser to write to her doctor in Detroit, “since performing an abortion is against the law, maybe he is scared or something, and later it would be impossible to undergo such an operation.” We don’t know how Eloesser responded to Kahlo’s request, but two months later, she suffered a violent miscarriage.

In a painting she created after her experience, Henry Ford Hospital (La cama volando), Frida lies naked on a hospital bed, the sheets soaked with blood. Objects float in the space around her, attached to her stomach by umbilical cords made of red ribbon: a male fetus (her son), medical objects, and symbols like a snail and an orchid. Detroit’s stark, manufacturing skyline disturbs the background.

Regardless of her visceral distaste for Detroit and the horrible misfortune that occurred there, art historian Victor Zamudio Taylor claims it was here that “Kahlo, for the first time, consciously decides that she will paint about herself, and that she will paint the most private and painful aspects of herself.”

— From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death, Caitlin Doughty

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bklynmusicnerd]

Coming down from the high of resolved long-term sexual tension between fictional characters and what's sticking in my mind after everything is the way Trina and Spencer's relationship inspires them to go against their usual programming.

We are constantly talking about how Trina is the methodical planner who is always taking consequences into consideration and looking toward the future. While Spencer is the reckless, flighty, and impulsive one who's never really had to plan his future because he's been told who he was going to be since he was a kid.

But since he explained his reasoning behind the surprise necklace, I've been thinking about how it's always Spencer that's looking to establish these symbols of permanence in their relationship. The books, the doves, the necklace. He's only ever comfortable talking about the future when he's thinking about his future with Trina.

Whereas Trina's approach to their relationship is uncharacteristically mostly impulse. She initiates their first kiss because it feels right in the moment. She waits until dinner to tell Spencer she loves him because that's what felt right to her. She admits to Curtis that she has no idea what her future with Spencer looks like, but she loves him anyway.

And so much of the trip was Trina soaking in every moment as it was happening while Spencer was looking ahead to make sure everything was "perfect". I'm still workshopping, but I'm intrigued by Trina having a plan for everything except being in love with Spencer, and Spencer not having serious ambitions for anything in his life outside of holding on to Trina.

[my-fancy-hat]

me at the club last night sobbing drunk af because of denji

[thatfluffyboi]

The Beastmaster and her monster

[burned-lariat]

Laura...enough.