#kinda fluffy by the end

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[bluuscreen]

been thinking a lot about. what if he stayed as that more humanoid version of his monster when he came back. no wings because i couldn’t be bothered drawing them + his form seemed like it was constantly shifting anyway while talking to the lion and he only had them sometimes?? little confusing

[hitlikehammers]

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

♥️

divider credit here

[koszmarnybudyn]

They are creatures.

[korumimi]

Okay so, a while after the purgatory, everyone is back. Everything is fine. Mike is awake, everyone is in Christmas mood. So everything is fine. Pac is fine.

Cellbit and Roier are back and playing with Richas and Pepito while Pac watches from afar. Fit notices Pac and goes near him to say hi and see how everything is going.

Then he notices something. Something in the expression Pac is making. He looks distant. Kinda tired, maybe concerned. He is frowning a little. And before Fit says something Pac puts his hoodie back and warp away.

Fit is confused and goes check on the map where Pac is. He's on chume island. Without thinking he warps there too.

Pac is sitting in his armchair next to the water wheel. His with his knees next to his chest.

"Oi Pac!"

"Oh. Hi Fit!" His expression changes quickly to a happy face.

"Just wanted to check on you. You left without saying anything." Fit seats in the other armchair.

"Oh yeah I was about to go sleep. Organized some things in my inventory and all that stuff. Just seated here to... To appreciate the view!"

"Oh I see I see..."

They stay like that for a moment. Fit is a little worried so he doesn't want to leave yet.

"Do you mind if... If I stay here for a while?"

"No, no, not at all. Feel like this is your home too" Pac smiles.

Fit smiles back but stays quiet, appreciating the view too. He knows what happened in purgatory and Pac said that he even had fun in most of the time. Mike is awake now too. Richas is fine, and all his dads are back too. So he can't see the problem clearly. But he looks with attention and Pac seems a tired. Like he's not sleeping well.

"Are you sleeping good?" Fit asks in a lower voice.

Pac seems a little surprised.

"I thought no one would notice haha" He laughs. "I mean, I even tried to make that trick with the spoons to see if it get better but-"

"Pac"

Pac stops talking and see Fit is serious.

"Sorry Fit... Yeah but... I'm fine. I'm fine! Everyone is back on the island, commemorating the holidays, it's all fine!"

"Is there something bothering you? I mean, I'm here if you want to talk y'know. Like, don't feel pressured though, just- like- I want you to know I'm here." Fit is now inclined in Pac's direction, still sitting in the armchair.

Pac is quiet. First a little impressed but now he seems a little nervous, a little uneasy. He hugs himself.

"Okay so.... Im having these... These nightmares... So I'm not sleeping so well..."

Pac is fidgetting with his gloves and Fit waits for Pac to say more.

Pac sighs

"It's nothing! Like... It's just some dumb dreams, they are not real so don't need to worry about that."

"Do you want to talk about it? About the dreams?"

"I- I don't think... I don't know... Is just like..." Pac is now holding his leg.

"It's okay if you don't want to."

"Okay... Is just that- AAAARGH. I'm just so dumb, why I am like this!" Pac hides his face in his hoodie.

"I'm so useless..." Pac says just like a whisper.

"Don't say that!" Now Fit is next to Pac's armchair, crouching just to try and see Pac's face. "Can you tell me why you are saying this? I can help you Pac."

Pac peaks from his hoodie.

He exhales.

"Okay... So... I'm afraid of... Cellbit..." He hides himself. "You can laugh now, I won't judge, I would laugh too"

"Of course not Pac. It's okay to- to be afraid of things. Your feelings are valid Pac."

Pac stays in his little hideout. And Fit waits.

"Can you tell me why you are afraid of him?"

"Is just... He killed my friends once... He... He took my leg..." Pac grips his leg. Fit only waits with a surprised expression.

"And when we were in purgatory, he-he was there killing my friends! And- and- I-" He's voice is failing now.

"I couldn't do anything... I couldn't save them... I lost all my courage. And I was the lider! I was supposed to protect them!" Pac lifts his head trying to not cry.

"And I even said I could do things for him if he asked... It was like the prison all over again..."

And Pac tries to clean his tears before they fall. He doesn't want to look like this, even more not in front of Fit! But he can't stop crying. Why is he so useless. So afraid. Why he can't just, be strong! And stoic like any of the others! Fit could do that easily but he can't, because he is dumb and useless...

"But when we were together in purgatory you made it! You killed him and fought with him!" Fit tries to say in a optimistic way.

"That was because you were with me... You were by my side and I knew you could kill him. You could help me..."

"But it's okay Fit! You don't need to worry! Is just something dumb like me. Everything in the island is fine now, everyone is fine! So I will be fine..."

They stay quiet for a couples seconds. Pac is trying to clean his face with his sleeves.

"Can I hug you?" Fit is with a worried face.

And Pac is again impressed. Impressed that someone is by his side. Hasn't made fun of him. That someone is worried about him. Even though he's the most unluckiest guys on earth. And maybe he doesn't deserve anything happy. And he is even more impressed that this someone is Fit. He just wants to cry. But he cried so much already. Why is he like this.

But he accepts the hug. They stand up and they hug each other. And Pac cries a little more. But Fit holds him, and holds all the pieces that are trying to break and fall.

"Don't say that you are dumb or useless Pac. You are one of the most amazing person I have ever met. You make so many cool things, you are so smart. You made the fucking cure for that federation pill. You are awesome! You are kind and helps everyone in this island. You sacrifice yourself a little too much even, for the sake of others. Don't say bad things about yourself please... You are really good to me and makes me sad hearing that..."

"Sorry about that..."

"Don't be sorry! That's what fr- That's why I'm here for. I'm here to support you and help you when you need, okay?"

Pac doesn't respond right away. And now Fit is panicking a little. Did he talked too much? Is this going to scare Pac? Did he go too far? Now my heart is beating a little too fast. He will notice. Why my face is so hot. I just said I'm here for him, that doesn't make anything weird, right?

But Fit doesn't leave the hug. But they are quiet. And Fit is sure that anyone could hear his heart beating, so surely Pac is hearing. But Pac also doesn't leave. So maybe is fine. Finally Pac says something.

"Thank you Fit..." And Pac lifts his head to see Fit. "It means a lot to me."

And Pac is with the most honest smiles in his face. And he looks beautiful. The sunset is hitting his face making him glow. And Fit can't think in his panic anymore. Because he's stunned with how Pac looks.

Pac breaks eye contact and hugs Fit tighter, in a way of thanking him. And finally leaves the hug.

"Okay so I will leave for today. But thank you so much for what you said. It really means a lot to me. I know I still have to work on these...things... But I know that I can ask help if I need!" And his smiles so gorgeous.

"O-okay, but yeah! Anything you need just call me!"

"Thank you Fit! Bye!" Pac leaves for the wearhouse.

"Bye!"

And Fit is stunned. He just takes his warp and goes back to home. He doesn't move. Just place his hands in his face and blushes. Why is he like this.

On the other side Pac is just blushing and hiding himself inside his hoodie.

[whelpimnauthuman]

Okay, okay, so everyone is saying that Rambert's Narinder would be a big white dog, right?

I know breeds and whatnot don't matter, but, might I suggest him being a Great Pyrenees?

Big fluffy white dog, known for living among their sheep to protect them and chase off danger.

If we're going with opposite/mirror universe, I can just imagine him being very bubbly and excitable. "Oh, hi! I'm sorry you died, here's my crown, maybe it can help you?" Giving gifts and whatnot the whole time. Probably comes across as a bit of a himbo. The whole "having to kill the goat" thing just destroys him, he apologizes the whole time. (More instead of "Damn Lamb, you're betraying me and denying me my freedom" it's more "I'm so sorry, I really don't want to do this, I just need out-")

[allaboutlov3]

@marylilymicrofic/confession/698 words/a little angst with a happy ending/allaboutlov3 on ao3

Life has been different since Mary's love confession. Lily feels happy and light. She feels loved. Her hands glide gently over the body of the woman that she adores. The woman that she loves. And even though she knows this at her core she hasn’t been able to express it. There have been moments, certainly. Moments where she felt the words on the very tip of her tongue. Moments where she looked at Mary and life pretty much stood still. Where she lost herself in Mary’s beautiful brown eyes. She had never felt so happy in her entire life. She knows as much. But knowing something like that and saying it are to very different things. When you tell someone you love them you have to own it. You have to mean it. It can’t just be a fleeting thought. It needs to be something permanent.

Lily has never managed to hold on to something permanently. If you asked her shed probably tell you about feeling torn. Caught somewhere between the desire to go with the flow and the desperate need for a solid plan. Life with Mary Macdonald may be a lot of things. Happy and wonderful. Exhilarating and unpredictable. But it sometimes feels volatile which unsettles Lily. Its destabilizing in every way. Positive and negative.

“What are you worried about my love?”, Mary asks. My love. Although she is already in bed, she can feel her knees going weak.

“I’m not…”, she tries to answer but the look on Mary’s face warns her not to lie so blatantly. So she tries again. “I’m just thinking you know?”

“Yeah, I mean, I kinda figured”, Mary says, fighting a smile.

“Ha ha, very funny”, Lily replies exasperated. The tone shift in her voice catches Mary’s attention.

“Okay. I’m listening.”, she says earnestly now.

“I’m just…I don’t know how…” Lily can’t get her thoughts out cohesively. Almost frantically she tries to give Mary words and hints that reflect her feelings in some way. In any way really. “It feels destabilizing to just…I’m missing a plan. Like the big picture that I don’t…”

Mary waits patiently for Lily to stop babbling. She reaches out and takes Lilys hand. Then she takes a deep breath and says: „Are you not happy with me?”

Lily is startled. This is not what she tried to say at all. Or maybe it is but not like that? In any case, she meant something completely different. So, she tries again: “No, yeah I mean…I’m not…I don’t…”

“Lily, breathe.”, Mary looks concerned as Lily is now at a total loss for words.

“I’m…”, Lily tries to breathe deeply. She doesn’t quite succeed. When did the air in the room become so thin? Why isn’t there enough air in her lungs right now?

“I’m scared.”, she gasps breathlessly. “I’m scared and insecure because this is all so new to me, and I don’t…I don’t have a plan for this. I never planned to fall in love with you and now I don’t know. There is no plan. And that’s what I want. A plan I mean but also, I kinda don’t? Cause plans are stupid. Cause I didn’t plan this and its quite literally is the best that’s ever happened to me. So how can I want a plan if a plan didn’t get me here? But I kinda really like plans and this doesn’t feel like a plan to me. It feels like ‘go with the flow’ and I’m really not the girl for that you know? I want a plan and stability and you. Oh did I say that already? Yeah I want you. I love you. And I want to be with you.”

During this ramble Mary had started smiling so much that her cheeks hurt. “I think I know a solution.”, she says then. “Lily, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

And oh, what a wonderful suggestion that is. What a wonderful solution to something that was never a problem to begin with.

“YES YES YES!”, Lily exclaims and throws herself against Mary with all her weight. Mary Macdonald, the woman that she loves with all her heart. Mary Macdonald, her girlfriend.

[nicomoon69]

I always feel so fake when I say enemies to lovers is my least fav x to lovers trope

[bunysliper]

Castle Ficlet: All the Lights Shine 1/1

All the Lights Shine

 Rick appears at her elbow just as she's dropped down in the plush armchair. It had taken double the time it usually does to get the kids to settle and now she is ready to fall asleep without needing any prompting.

 "Hey," he greets, leaning over to kiss her hair. "Sorry I didn't make it upstairs."

 She waves him off; he'd been on a call with Paula about rescheduling an appearance that would've required them to leave early. She would rather him take care of that than end up cutting their vacation short so he can get to some bookstore in the middle of Idaho, or wherever it was supposed to be.

 "It's fine. They were maniacs, but I think they finally stopped wrestling long enough to let sleep catch up with them."

 He chuckles. "I'll check on them in a bit. For now, though," he trails off, looking over his shoulder. "Come on, come see what your dad and I finished today."

 Kate whines quietly. "I was just about to read two pages and then doze off."

 That gets an actual laugh out of him. "You can do that outside, too. Come on. You'll like it."

 She lets him haul her out of the chair, nudging her nose against his once they're close enough. "You say that about a lot of things, Castle. You know that right?"

 He grins, dropping a kiss on her mouth before spinning her around. "I do. And you've ended up liking almost all of them." He puts his hands on her shoulders, leading her through the living room and to the side door leading to the wraparound part of the porch.

 Her eyes widen as they step out. Gone is the dark, empty deck. In its place is a warmly lit, comfortable sitting area. Two chairs with throw pillows in the seats await them, and there's a bottle of wine and two glasses on the little table in the center.

 "Rick…"

 "Told you you'd like it," he murmurs, brushing her cheek with his lips. "Go sit, have some wine. Read your two pages and doze off. I'll be back after I check on the kids."

 She grins, moving forward and sinking onto the seat, releasing a quiet sigh.

[serv0z]

anyways woe wip be upon us. turned oc into a lamb for the next series im in next week :)))

[ryanlockheart]

— ₊ ° . ☆ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒊𝒏 was practically gabriel's second home. he'd never expected to love his job so much, but he guessed it made sense when his oh so cute boyfriend spent as much time in there as he did. it always brightened his day to see rory with his nose buried in a book in the corner of the quaint little bakery. he'd been there all day, silently giving gabriel the motivation to get through the day. rude customers and huge orders were 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 for the joy that his tiny little boyfriend brought him. — ₊ ° . ☆ 𝒈𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 to rory's table as the night came to an end. the two boys were the only people still left in the store. gabriel had stacked up all the chairs on their tables, wiped down all the counters, and made sure that the freezer was locked shut. his only task left was to pry rory from his computer screen. he'd spent all day studying — and, of course, he always wanted the 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 for rory... but he always wanted to make sure rory was taking proper care of himself, too. gabriel had to remind him to take breaks to eat a little snack and drink water. the raven-haired boy's hand came to shut rory's laptop with a gentle smile on his face. "hi, honey bee," gabriel chirped. "no more studying — i'm putting an 𝒆𝒏𝒅 to it. 's time to spend time with me," he singsonged playfully. before rory could protest, he was swooping up all of rory's things and tucking them away in his bag. gabriel slung his bag over his shoulder, and soon enough he was lifting his tiny boyfriend up in his arms bridal style. "y'can't work yourself too hard, y'know?" he said with a little pout. he pecked rory's cheek quickly. "besides, 'm sure shakespeare and emily dickinson don't have 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 on what i've got planned for ya when i getcha home!" / @kitbogart

[whotookmysenbon]

So. Sooooooooo. So so so so so.

Did you and Kakashi have ~fun~ last night?

-🍡

If by ~fun~ you mean I got absolutely hammered, had a break down and threw up in the bushes, and fell asleep on his shoulder curled up with his fluffiest ninken? …yes.

[lexezombie]

I am cringe but I am free <3

aka I rewatched Hotel Transylvania and remade my old oc

[bonkobarnes]

bratty!bottom!becca hcs please

This took me forever and probably isn’t exactly what you wanted because in my mind Becca isn’t really a brat she’s just mad she has to be a bottom

- whenever she does something ‘bratty’ she’s not really trying to get a rise out of cam

- cam is annoyingly stoic and kinda bossy and Becca just wants to get her off but cam keeps saying her first

- Becca figures she might as well get some enjoyment out of it if cam is gonna dictate the pace of everything else

- on nights where cam invites her over for dinner Becca doesnt make it very long with her clothes on

- Becca says it’s because her clothes are just so uncomfortable and what’s better than wearing one of cams hoodies and it’s definitely not because wearing just her underwear and a sweatshirt make for easy access later and it definitely doesn’t drive cam crazy

- Becca spends all of dinner teasing Cam in one way or another until Cam is red in the face and Becca is flat on the mattress

- on the rare occasion cam tries to edge her it never really works because Becca will do anything and everything to cum

- because yes the buildup feels nice but so does cam blowing her back out because she came before cam told her to

- she will always ride cam for longer than cam is prepared for, until cam is the one that’s overly sensitive

- cam is never too rough but Becca likes getting her to use her strength. She will act defiant if it means cam will pick her up and move her

- Becca likes sitting in cam’s chair, or laying on her side of the bed, because Cam will tell her to move and Becca will just shake her head and smile all innocently

- and next thing Becca knows Cam has her in the air and Becca just grips onto her tight and laughs in cam’s neck like this wasn’t exactly what she wanted

[starcrossedpaladins]

I have so many klance fic ideas and I want to finally start writing some. they are all super cliche and full of tropes. I want some opinions and motivation to actually write and post something.

feel free to ask about any of them (more details length etc). right now they exist as ideas in my notes app and I'd love to flush some out and I'd like to know what people are interested in reading.

[pigeonwhumps]

Telepathy and doctors

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Santhiya, aged five, gets taken to the doctor's to find out why she keeps fainting all the time.

Based on this.

1.9k

CWs: minor whump (kinda), medical setting (mostly), mentions of bullying, fear of abandonment, mention of abandonment of a child, superpowers whump, fingerprick test (brief), mention of other medical tests, chronic condition/disability

"She keeps fainting," explains Santhiya's mum to the doctor, via an interpreter. Really, Santhiya thinks as she swings her legs back and forth on the chair, she's a bit insulted. She could do it.

"How often does this happen? And how long do these fainting episodes last?"

"Two or three times a week. It's only about a minute or so, but they worry us."

"I understand that," says the doctor calmly, writing something down. "Is there any unifying factors where she's more likely to have them? Times, places?"

Santhiya's mum goes quiet for a few minutes, and then she says, "Crowded places. She has a lot at school and her dance performances. And when we play games or her dad is working from home."

The doctor nods, and then turns to Santhiya. "These fainting episodes, can you describe them for me?"

Santhiya nods. "They're horrible. I feel like– this big emotion, and then I hear some voices that feel like that, and then I'm waking up on the floor or slumped in my seat and people are there and it's embarrassing."

"What sort of emotion?"

"Lots of different ones. And the voices seem to be feeling that too. I don't understand it."

"That's okay. We'll try our best to work it out. Thank you for telling me all that." He turns back to her mum. "I can't diagnose anything right at the moment, but I'd like to order a few tests, if that's okay. And refer Santhiya to a neurologist."

"That's brains? You think there's something wrong with her brain?" Her mum sounds worried, which makes Santhiya worried.

"I don't know, Mrs Choudhary. It's probably nothing to worry about. I'd like to order an MRI and a CT scan. It'd be up to her neurologist whether or not they want them, but the waiting lists for those tests can be quite long and that'll give us a head start. I'd also like to do a blood test, the clinic is still open next door. And there are a few things I'd like the two of you to do. Is that okay?"

Santhiya's mum swallows and nods. "I'll do what you think is best. I just want my daughter to get better. What do I need to do?"

The doctor smiles. "I'd like you to keep a food diary until you see a neurologist. That should be about two weeks, give or take. Feed her as you normally would, this is just to see whether anything such as sodium or blood sugar levels could be what's causing her fainting. And I'd like you to do a fingerprick test the next time she faints and is with you, if possible."

Her mum glances at her. "How do I do it?"

"I can demonstrate, if your daughter doesn't mind. Santhiya? It would just be a small prick."

Santhiya nods and shifts in her seat. She doesn't particularly want to do it but her mum seems to think it's fine so it probably is.

"Okay. Mrs Choudhary, if you'd like to come over here." He pulls out a kit and opens it, then opens a little pack displaying a needle. "It'll just be a little prick with this needle, okay Santhiya?"

Santhiya nods, eyeing the needle nervously. Her mum squeezes her hand. The doctor demonstrates how to prick her finger with the needle, then let it drip into a little pot. She doesn't like it. But it only has to happen once.

And besides, he's given her a butterfly plaster.

"Do it as soon as she wakes up, if you can. I'll print you off a blood test form, food diary and some guides to the tests. We'll find out what's going on as soon as we can, okay Santhiya?"

Santhiya nods. At some point, she's stopped swinging her legs, but she bounces off the chair and takes her mum's hand again when it's time to leave.

The blood test is scary, but as her mum helps her back on with her coat (the nice yellow one with the furry hood) she promises her some dosi from the nice shop on the way home, so Santhiya thinks it's probably worth it.

_

The neurologist's office is nicer than the other doctor's. The waiting room is in bright colours and the office is a nice blue with fish on the walls. It should probably be butterflies, to match the ones in her stomach.

Over the next year, she has to have lots of scary tests done. She even has to stay in hospital for some of them. She gets concussion twice and breaks her arm. Her parents are worried. They try to hide it but she can tell.

She's delighted by the glove balloon one of the doctors gives her though. She loves it. And she has a fluffy toy lemur now.

Finally she's referred to yet another part of the hospital. This one has green walls with safari animals painted on them, and the actual room has a weird bed that looks like a flat elephant.

The doctor smiles at her as she and her mum enter.

"Good afternoon Santhiya, Mrs Choudhary. Please take a seat." She waits for them to make themselves comfortable. "As you might've guessed, we have a diagnosis for Santhiya. We believe she has telepathy. Specifically–"

Santhiya doesn't hear the rest because she bursts into tears. No. No she can't have that, she can't!

"Santhiya?" asks her mum, alarmed, as if from far away. "What's wrong?"

"They'll take me away! I don't wanna go away! I don't wanna leave you and dad and everything!"

"Take you away? Who told you that?"

"A boy at school! He said– he said that there was something wrong with me and it was probably powers and that they'd take me away and lock me up or you'd abandon me and then they'd hurt me and I don't want that! Please don't make me!"

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Her mum cups her face in her hands and she tries to blink away the blurry vision. "Have I ever given you reason to believe I'd do anything like that?"

"No but he said you'd change your mind once you knew what I was! And his parents did, so–"

"I would defend you with my life. I don't care if anyone tries to take you, I am never letting that happen. Listen, Santhiya. You're my daughter. You always will be, whatever happens. I'd never let anyone do anything to you. Yeah?"

Santhiya nods and grabs her mum, pulling herself close. She eyes the doctor warily.

"Sorry."

Her mum kisses her on the head. "No apologies. Are you okay to continue?"

Santhiya nods and her mum sits down, gently pulling her onto her lap. "What do we do now?"

"I'll explain the details of her condition in a minute, including what it looks like on the scans. I think you'll like looking at them, Santhiya, even if you don't understand them. You can see your eyes on them." Santhiya's eyes widen. Wow. "But basically, Santhiya, you're picking up on people's thoughts and emotions, even when you're not trying to, and it's too much. You're strong enough to go deep into people's minds, but their views of the world and their thoughts and emotions are too much for you."

"Oh." That... that actually makes sense. She thinks on it for a moment. "Does that mean that it's their emotions and voices I get before I faint?"

"I believe so."

"I don't want to read their minds." It's not fair without asking and she doesn't want to faint either.

"I know. That's why we're going to help you. Santhiya, Mrs Choudhary, do you both want to know what the possible next steps are?"

Santhiya nods, and her mum says, "Please."

The doctor nods. "Santhiya, do you remember the last time you were in hospital and you had your head measured? And they showed you different colours of fabric and had you choose which one you liked best?"

Santhiya nods enthusiastically. She'd chosen the sparkly rainbow one.

"Well, it was for this." She pulls out something that looks like a... helmet? Fabricy helmet? Santhiya's not sure. But it's sparkly rainbow, just like she chose.

"It's for you to wear while you're out, to protect your head. I don't think any of us want to wrap you in bubble wrap but it will hopefully protect against you getting concussion again. Unless your mum really doesn't want you wearing one, I'd like you to try it on."

"Go ahead."

Santhiya takes the helmet and pulls it over her head. Her mum does up the straps and holds her hand as they walk to the mirror.

Santhiya tilts her head to one side, then the other. She likes the fabric, the way it shimmers in the light. But...

She bites her lip, seeing it wobble. It still looks silly. She'll be teased for it, she knows it, she already is for her fainting and going into hospital so much, and she's lost her friends because they don't want to associate with her or their parents don't want her around. This is going to make it worse.

"Do I have to?" she whispers, the words just for her mum. Not for the interpreter or the doctor, just between them.

"I'd like you to. It would keep you safe. And maybe we can go out more if we don't have to worry about concussion."

Santhiya perks up a little. "Can I go back to dance?"

"If the doctor says it's safe I don't see why not. Provided you wear the helmet."

Santhiya swallows. She doesn't want to but if it gets her back into dance...

"I'll do it."

Her mum smiles, and nods at the doctor. "She'll wear it."

"Excellent." Santhiya hops back into her seat. The helmet feels weird. "I'll refer you to a nurse specialist in addition to your appointments with me to help with issues such as dealing with schools. At this point we recommend counselling for Santhiya. With telepathy, there might be things she picks up on that she doesn't understand, or that hurt, and she needs to talk to someone outside her family about them. And for you and your husband, too, as her parents, to help with what you might be feeling about all this."

"The online booklets mentioned training?" asks her mum cautiously.

"Oh, you've done your research. Yes, we offer that too. It usually starts a little older, but since Santhiya's powers are already fast developing we can start early. With telepathy, it involves simple exercises to help her brain develop ways of making other's thoughts and emotions quieter."

"So– so does that mean I can't cheat at cards anymore?"

The doctor laughs. "I'm afraid so."

_

"And that's why I don't like your parents," finishes Santhiya. She's never told anyone the whole story before.

Phoenix frowns. "I've, um, never heard of these, um, services."

"Which is why I don't like your parents. How could anyone expect you to control your powers without training?"

Phoenix hums, cocking their head as they look at the photo album. "You know, it, um, it actually kind of suits you. It's your style."

Santhiya shoves them, laughing. "Oh shut up. I never should've let my mum show you these."

"She's proud of you. And, um, you might've lost your friends then but you, um, you have me now. And everyone else but, um, especially me."

Santhiya grins and kisses her, long and hard. "Oh, definitely you."