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naughty-teddy-innit · 6 years ago

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Rehabilitation: Chapter 4 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 4

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for the Previous Chapter

CHAPTER 4

“You’re shitting me.” Her face was nothing short of incredulous as she stared me down over the messy, food strewn surface that was my kitchen counter. “How is that even possible??”

I popped a slice of freshly washed strawberry into my mouth and tossed the rest of the juicy slices I’d already cut up into the glass salad bowl in front of me, a yummy complement to the spinach greens and pecans I’d already added to it.

“I don’t know??” I took a sip of my Sauv and then replaced my goblet on the counter. “I guess I just don’t Social Media and/or Pop Culture much. I grew up with Credence and Springsteen and Janis and the masters. I just don’t pay much attention to the current pop stuff. Until I managed to bump into his manager, I had no idea who he even was.”

“Leesie.” She paused herself mid-sentence and fortified her apparent upcoming rant with a long sip from her own wineglass, and then fixed me with a stare. “He’s probably the most famous musician on the planet right now. He writes the most beautiful lyrics you can imagine, has a voice like melted butter….and did I mention he’s fucking gorgeous?!! And has the most delicious accent you can even fathom. And he’s supposed to be the sweetest guy EVER. How do you NOT tell me he’s lying in your hospital and that HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE??”

“Lynds.” I swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble out and fixed a smile on my best friend. Who was currently aiming a dagger-laden death stare right back at me. “I love you. Very much. But you know I can’t talk about patients and medical stuff at work. If I screw with confidentiality stuff, I could get FIRED. I like my job, remember??”

“I’m not talking about his medical records! Everyone knows he was in this awful crash and that they have him locked away where the press and all that can’t get to him. But like…. you’ve had conversations with him! I mean- he’s gonna be okay right?”

“Happenstance, honestly. I never went looking for him. And I wouldn’t say it was much of a conversation. Actually…” I grabbed the wooden salad tossers and the dressing and began to toss the salad. “A few days ago, one of the healthcare aides got caught trying to sneak pictures of him on her iPhone while she was supposed to be passing out meals. Security had to call the police because she flipped her shit when the nurse manager caught and confronted her. Hauled her out yelling and screaming. Thankfully Stuart figured it out before she managed to cause any real damage or freak him out, but it was awful. THOSE kinds of people are the ones looking for him. I’m just doing my job. I never wanna be like that.” I inwardly shuddered at the thought. So intrusive. I caught her eye and grinned. “I guess I can say he’s going to be okay. But I SWEAR. I really don’t know much else.”

I looked up and she was swiping and searching for something on her phone, her lip caught between her teeth. She suddenly grinned and slid her phone across the counter to me. I could see it was open to a video app, and I could see Ed’s name across the bottom.

“Watch that.”

I totally was not going to deny that I was curious. I shook my head, laughing, and plopped myself down on the stool at the end of the peninsula-style counter. “And what is it exactly I’m watching?”

“I’m starting you off easy. This was the biggest song off his last album. You’ll see.” She bit the end off of one of the strawberries that hadn’t made it into the bowl and continued. “That pretty boy is ALL about the love songs.”

I tapped the screen and grabbed the half empty bottle of wine, refilling my glass while the video loaded on the screen. I flipped her phone around, allowing the images to fill the whole screen, and raised an eyebrow at the figure of the dancer whirling across the screen. Whoever she was, she had a slammin’ body.

His voice WAS really pretty, she definitely hadn’t made that up. It wasn’t booming or theatrical, but softer. More melodic and sweet. And he certainly pulled off the vest and crisp white shirt with the rolled-up sleeves thing REAL well; I was also more than curious about all the colourful tattoos that adorned his arms. He definitely was not an ugly dude that was for sure. But. I was feeling like I was supposed to be blown away. Why did I feel like my next opinion was going to be a REAL Unpopular One?

“Well…” I took a deep breath and bit my lip at her eager expression. “I mean, he’s definitely not awful to look at. I’ll give you that. And his voice is pretty! But it’s…I mean, it’s kinda just a typical pop gushy love song, right? And the pretty pop star boy dancing with the pretty girl?? Come on…” I stifled a laugh at the way her mouth dropped open in what was obviously affront and offense. My girl, she was nothing if not dramatic.

“Annaliese. You are damaged, I swear. Where is your sense of romance??” She was gesturing wildly with her freshly filled wine glass, the cold white wine an inch from sloshing all over our salad, and it took everything I had to not crack up completely. I just shook my head.

“It’s there.” My voice was soft as I watched the video fade out on the screen. “Guess it just hasn’t come out in while.”

---------------

The next afternoon found me back on familiar ground, ready to get my volunteer on. The schedule had me on the 4C IP unit, also known as the inpatient/recovery unit, and it was one of the sections of the hospital where I’d spent plenty of volunteer hours. I was feeling particularly cheerful and rested considering the copious amounts of wine that I’d accidentally (or not so accidentally) consumed the night before, and I swiped my way through the unit’s security doors with a smile on my face. I spent a good chunk of the afternoon with Callie, a nine-year-old girl recovering from a kidney transplant, knee-deep in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. She’d read the book multiple times and by the time we finished the movie, she’d fully educated me on dragons, wands and Hogwarts. She was a feisty, tiny little thing, and was as desperate to get home and get on with being a kid as any child I’d spent time with over the years, and I definitely finished up my time with her uplifted, and with a grin on my face. I promised French fries and a milkshake on my next visit, as long as the doctor signed off on them, and slipped out as her mom was coming back from her lunch.

I stepped up to the massive desk at the nurses’ station, intending to find out where they needed me next, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Really doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, mate. I really just want to sleep. Can I just get back to my room now, please?”

The soft accented voice caught my ear right away, I remembered it well. But unlike the last time….it was flat. Devoid of any warmth.

It was Ed.

I had no idea where it came from, or what I was even thinking, but I found myself turning towards him and before I could help myself, my mouth was open and words were coming out.

“Ed…Hey.” I tipped my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay? Anything I can do?”

He was carefully positioned in a wheelchair, his casted leg propped up and his injured hand, implanted pins and cast still intact, resting on his leg. He had a nasal cannula still in place, but much of the swelling and bruising that had taken over his face had gone down. I could see he was still moving very stiffly, carefully, as he slowly turned his head toward my voice. The orderly who’d parked him at the nurses’ station shot me a quick, polite smile and turned to head off to his next task.

A brief, rather emotionless smile flickered across his face, and then he tipped his head back, resting it against the back of the chair.

‘S’kind of you, Annaliese.” He took a slow breath. “Tired of being poked and prodded and this test and that scan. Really jus’ want to get back to my room.”

“Well, I can certainly get you that far.” I raised an eyebrow at the nurse behind the desk. She nodded at me, and gestured to the door at the end of the hall. “I’ll send Malik to help actually get him situated in a minute, he’s just finishing up with inventory in the med lockup. Thank you, Leesie.” She raised an eyebrow at Ed, and then looked back at me before looking back at the sheaf of paperwork in front of her. “Perhaps you can work your magic and get this stubborn young man to eat.”

I just raised an eyebrow and nodded, deciding that for now my inside voice would probably be a better choice. Why in the world wasn’t he eating?

“Alright…Let’s get you back to your room.” I tried another gentle smile as I released the brake on his chair, but he just nodded, staring off down the hall. We found his room, and I got his chair situated by the bed while we waited for the nurse to come help him into it. I debated with myself for all of 3 seconds before lightly dropping myself into the chair beside him.

I took a deep breath and found myself cocking my head in an attempt to catch his eye. “Alright. So. What’s this business about you not eating?”

The only response I got was a huffed breath and tight-lipped expression. But I wasn’t giving up. Apparently, I was no longer nervous about overstepping? I tucked a stray lock of hair back behind my ear where it belonged, and leaned forward, intent on getting him to talk to me.

“I’m a lot of things, definitely not a doctor, but… Even I know food is kinda important when you’re trying to heal. Gotta fuel your body, right?”

“Why.” His voice was low and his eyes were closed. “Does everyone in this bloody place seem to be obsessed with feeding me? I’m not fuckin’ hungry.”

“Well….” I was bit taken aback, to be honest. Admittedly, my impression of him was limited to the night he’d woken up and remembered me from the ICU, but he’d seemed like a genuinely kind, nice guy. I could only imagine he must be struggling with all of this, so I figured the snippiness was only fair, and let it slide. I was trying to think of the right thing to say when he beat me to the punch.

“Nah. I’d like very much if everyone, EVERYONE, could please remove themselves from jumping up my arse, and just leave me alone. Stuart, my dad, Mum, Matt, everyone. Just….” He was silently shaking his head, and his uninjured hand was clenched in a fist. “It’s NOT going to be fine, and stuffing my bloody face isn’t….it doesn’t…Jesus.” His voice broke off and I took the opportunity to change tactics.

“Okay then.” He looked up at me, the straightforward tone in my voice probably taking him by surprise. I pushed on. “Fuck the food. Let’s just…leave that. The rest of it though? Ed… I’d imagine these people, who clearly care about you and love you so much, just want you get strong so you can get better and get the hell out of here. Right? You must want to get back to your life and never see this place again?”

The saddest smile I think I’ve ever seen ghosted across his face, and he looked down. “Mikey doesn’t get to go back, does he?”

Oh god…his driver. I’d left his room when I’d last seen him, before that conversation took place. I couldn’t imagine how that must have broken his heart. My heart ached at sadness in his eyes.

“Oh Ed…” It came out as a whisper. He looked up at me, the pain in his eyes raw. They were such a beautiful blue, but… there was no light in them. Like windows with the blinds pulled tightly shut. “I am so, so sorry. I can’t even ima-“

“No, no you can’t. No one can.” He cut me off, his accented voice once again flat. “They can’t imagine because it wasn’t their fuckin’ fault. It was mine. He can’t go back to his wife and his children and his grandchildren, because I’m a selfish prick. He’s dead because’a me. All there is, and I don’t really care about goin’ back anywhere but my bed. Please.”

My heart shattered right then and there. How could he possibly think such an awful accident could be his fault? Nobody, NOBODY should have that on their conscience. I didn't stop to think; I lifted myself up from my chair and knelt by his, and laid a hand on his good one. I squeezed gently and waited for him to look up at me before I spoke, and then speak I did.

“I was there, Ed. The night this all happened? I was working in the ER when everyone was brought in. I saw the paramedics bring in the truck driver. The guy that fell ASLEEP at the wheel, the one that hit you. I could hear him crying, wailing actually, that he didn't mean to. That he was exhausted and never meant to hurt anyone, that it was an accident. But regardless of all of that, he hit you. HE did this. Not you. You could not have known something like this would happen.” I took a breath and bit my lip, in an attempt to gather my thoughts, and pressed on. “Mikey shouldn't have died, Ed, but nothing you did made that happen. I promise you that.”

I could see the sheen of tears in his eyes, and I so badly wanted to make it better. But I didn't know how.

“... She's right, you know.”

The soft, gentle voice that came from behind my right shoulder startled the hell out of me and I quite nearly fell backwards. I pulled myself together and awkwardly stood to see who was agreeing with me, and Imogen, Ed's tiny, lovely mother was standing just inside the door, nothing but love on her face as she looked her boy in the eyes. I opened my mouth, the beginnings of an apology for… What I wasn't sure, on the tip of my tongue. She shook her head and gently patted my shoulder before I could get anything out, and then lightly settled herself into my now empty chair. How long had she been standing there? How long had she been listening?

“Do you know…? “ She paused and I suddenly realized, as she glanced in my direction, that she was addressing me. “When they came to talk to us, the police, about the accident, when they told us what happened. Do you know what my boy said when they told us about the man that fell asleep?”

I shook my head, watching as she smoothed an errant curl from his forehead and lightly brushed her fingertips along his stitched up hairline.

“He wasn't even angry. He can't have meant to, he said. Isn't it enough he has to live with what he did? What about his children?” She shook her head and Ed spoke up before she could say another word.

“They said he has 4 children at home. He'd been driving those massive lorries for years, to put them through school. Who can bloody blame him for being tired?” His voice was quiet, not really directed at either of us. “He never meant to smash us up. He's gotta live with the guilt. And so do I.”

“Ebs.” Ebs? Her voice was soft, but determined, and his eyes met hers in a heartbeat. The expression on his face…this boy loved his mama, that much was clear. “What Annaliese said is exactly right. You mustn’t take this on your shoulders. There's no guilt for you to live with. Michael… He’s driven you for YEARS. He knew the job, he knew you were a night owl; you always have been. He loved you like you were one of his own, and looked out for you the same way. He wouldn't have blamed you for this. Not for one moment.”

Ed was already shaking his head. “Nah. I made him drive, overnight, in the freezing rain. Gig wasn't even for three more days, and he'd been sick with a cold for a week. We weren't supposed to leave that night. I wanted to get there early so I could write with the lads. We were on the road because of me. Simple. My fault. I'm here, he's not. All there is.” His voice was sharp, dripping with…disgust? Anger? At himself, I didn’t know, but it was killing me. And I was not having it.

“And if you'd left the next morning, maybe a motorcycle would have cut you off or a tire might have blown.” It was my turn to shake my head. “Ed, I'm calling it. That's crap.”

Imogen raised an eyebrow in my direction, a slight smile dimpling her cheek, and nodded.

A different voice cut through the room before anyone could say a word, and I turned to see Malik, a big hulking quarterback of a man, and one of the best nurses on the unit, popping his head in the door.

“My man! I hear we need to get you back in your bed. You down?”

“Please.” He truly sounded exhausted and I knew it was time to let him rest.

“Leesie - they bringin’ up the supper trays if you wanna give em’ a hand?” He shot me a grin and moved to the side of the bed to get it adjusted for Ed's casts and oxygen and monitors.”Gonna get this boy up in his bed and check his oxygen and pressure and all that nonsense.”

“Think I can handle that.” I shot a raised eyebrow at Ed. “Don't even tell me gourmet Hospital Spaghetti doesn't sound delicious right now.”

He just shook his head and sighed. “Not In-N-Out, is it.”

Imogen unfolded herself from the chair, a tired smile on her face. “Do you work here, too, Annaliese?”

“Oh, no!” I quickly explained my volunteer hours versus working in the ER and ICU, and I let out a quiet laugh and smile, explaining that I hope they didn’t think I was intruding or...well. Stalking her son, for lack of better way of putting it.

“No, no, not at all. It…. “ She paused a moment, walking with me to the door while Malik assisted Ed back into his bed, and lowered her voice a notch. “It’s very reassuring and a good feeling to know my son is surrounded by people who care about him in this place. You've been very kind; John and Stuart have both said the same thing. And you're honest with him. You pull no punches. I like that.”

I could feel my cheeks pink up at her words, and she patted my arm as I smiled and huffed a small breath.

“Well thank you, Mrs. Sheeran. That means a lot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pass out some exquisitely prepared gourmet hospital food.” I rolled my eyes and she shook her head, and we both shared a laugh. “Hopefully Ed will actually eat some tonight.”

I turned to leave, but stopped short when Ed's soft accent caught me.

“Leesie? They call you that, right?” He was back in bed, his leg positioned back in traction, and his oxygen and monitors set around him, pillows piled up behind him.

I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face. And there was that pink in my cheeks again....

“Yeah. Yeah they do.” I crossed my arms, and smiled to myself. “My mom used to hate it. She always said she picked Annaliese because it was different and pretty, and then everyone started calling me Leesie for short. To this day, she's about the only one, who knows me anyway, that calls me by my full name. Well. Unless I'm in trouble, I guess.” I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my hair, silently chastising myself for being such a chatterbox.

“... I think Annaliese is lovely.”

His voice was soft, and was studiously looking down at his injured hand, still bandaged, implanted pins still in place.

“Oh, well… Thank you. You're sweet. I don't mind it much myself.” I smiled at him, thinking that this was the sweet boy I’d met the other night. I caught a glimpse of my watch and straightened up.

“Oh crap. I should go, dinner is starting. Be excited, Ed - Spaghetti is coming.” I may have rolled my eyes, hoping for a smile.

“...Will you be…. Here… again this week?”

I stopped short again at his quiet voice. If he wanted me to be…

I tipped my head to the side. “Wednesday for a few hours, I think…?” I said softly.

“Just wonderin’...” He lay his head back against the pillows, grimacing as something somewhere caught him. I hated seeing him in pain.

“Could always use a visitor…. If you're around, that is.”

I shook my head and flashed him a small smile. “Eat your spaghetti, bud.” I turned to leave. “And we’ll see.”

LINK TO MASTERLIST

A/N: I am so SO sorry this took so long, but it feels so good to be back in the swing of things. I beg you please, all comments/feedback/suggestions/Reblogs/ANYTHING is welcome and appreciated! Drop me an Anon ask, a comment, anything, and it makes all the difference! Thank you and SO Much more to come!! Xoxoxoxoxoxo

#Ed Sheeran fanfic #Teddy Sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran fanfiction #Ed Sheeran Fic #Rehabilitation #Chapter 4 #Original writing #Ed Sheeran story #Ed and Annaliese #Celebrity fanfiction #Celebrity Fanfic #Naughty-Teddy-Innit

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kwebtv · 4 years ago

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Mindhunter - Netflix - October 13, 2017 - Present

Crime Drama (10 episodes to date)

Running Time: 60 minutes

Stars:

Jonathan Groff as Holden Ford

Holt McCallany as Bill Tench

Hannah Gross as Debbie Mitford

Cotter Smith as Shepard

Anna Torv as Wendy Carr

Recurring

Stacey Roca as Nancy Tench

Joe Tuttle as Gregg Smith

Alex Morf as Mark Ocasek

Joseph Cross as Benjamin Barnwright

Marc Kudisch as Roger Wade

Michael Park as Peter Dean

George R. Sheffey as John Boylen

Duke Lafoon as Gordon Chambers

Peter Murnik as Roy Carver

Lena Olin as Annaliese Stilman

Cameron Britton as Ed Kemper

Sam Strike as Montie Rissell

Happy Anderson as Jerry Brudos

Jack Erdie as Richard Speck

Sonny Valicenti as ADT serviceman

#Mindhunter #TV #Crime Drama #Netflix #2000's #Jonathan Groff #Holt McCallany #Hannah Gross #Cotter Smith #Anna Torv

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stoweboyd · 7 years ago

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How and where we spend our money has a great deal to do with class identity, as Elizabeth Currid-Halkett, the James Irvine Chair in urban and regional planning and professor of public policy at the University of Southern California, explains in her recent book The Sum of Small Things. Currid-Halkett argues that a new group, which she calls the aspirational class, has shifted the consumption patterns of the rich. According to her theory, conspicuous consumption—the purchase of highly visible signifiers of wealth and class identity such as cars, shoes, and designer handbags—is no longer in vogue. The aspirational class tends to invest in more subtle, but no less costly, goods and services, from private school tuition to boutique gyms and organic food. The designer handbag has been supplanted by the canvas NPR tote, and heavy bling exchanged for organic almond butter.

Whole Foods is the official grocery store of the aspirational class—famous for its rigorous demographic vetting of new store locations, which allow it to specifically seek out an affluent, highly educated consumer base. Its recent ploy to open lower-priced stores called 365 by Whole Foods aimed at millennial shoppers only supports Currid-Halkett’s theory. While many in the aspirational class are wealthy professionals, the primary currency in this world is shared cultural knowledge—not a bank account balance. If you can hold forth on the relative merits of local versus organic versus biodynamic produce, regularly spend more than 30 seconds choosing which peanut butter to buy, and have researched the benefits of raw milk, you are definitely a member of the aspirational class, no matter what your 401(k) looks like.

There’s an exclusivity that goes along with such knowledge. Note that 365 is not described as thrifty or for budget shoppers. It’s positioned to speak to millennials who are (or will be) members of the aspirational class, but are too young to have serious money yet.

Whole Foods branding isn’t just about the desirability of seaweed snacks. It sells a vision of the kind of people who shop there: a group that has collectively decided that organic food is healthier than non-organic; that it’s better to spend money on experiences as opposed to things; and that screen time is a problem. In all of these ways, the Whole Foods identity is about validating certain life choices and—by extension—judging others. New York Times op-ed columnist David Brooks got flak for his much-mocked op-ed about the class signifiers of Italian sandwiches. But he’s correct that retail stores send signals to customers about who is and isn’t welcome with a myriad of features, from the language on a menu to the kinds of magazines stacked in a grocery-store checkout line.

Currid-Halkett explains that one’s membership in the aspirational class involves a moral component, which in turn suggests that people who make different choices are inferior. “One problem with the aspirational class is that it’s not simply like, I’m rich, I’m buying awesome stuff, which you can be jealous of … there’s this implicit value system to the consumer choices,” said Currid-Halkett in a phone interview. “It’s, I’m buying these cage-free eggs because they’re better for the chicken and I care about animal rights. I’m buying organic food because it’s better for the environment, and I don’t buy made in China t-shirts anymore because I don’t agree with sweatshops. This means that there’s an implicit judgement against those who do not do that.”

#whole food #amazon #aspirational class

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safrona-shadowsun · 7 years ago

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Initiation of the Perished: The Courier

Part 3.

Part 1, Part 2

Bwonsamdi…. Bwonsamdi… A name now muttered in reverence within the limbo the Warlock was held in, a presence holding many souls in thrall, including in part her own. Past whispered talk with her Blaque Orchid bloomed back to memory as the Loa of the Dead lifted his wight-like eyes to the hellish forces she had brought with her by connection, a three-fingered grasp closing around one of her chains. “You bein’ th’ one they choosin’, eh? Bringin’ y’trouble. Bringin’ y’demons to Bwonsamdi, y’curse.”

The Loa’s touch spread shadowflame down her chains, snuffing out the Fel green flame of her pacts along ethereal metal, the cool touch of death numbing the eternal burn of her chains. “How long y’been runnin’ from dis, girl? Cheating death? T’stay two step ahead o’ de Burnin’ Legion? Keepin’ y’soul out o’ dere claws?”

“Long enough,” she replied softly, also watching the hordes of demons bleed from the tear between realms, imps trying to burn their way through the Deathveil with no success. Their masters were determined to bring her back.

“And y’want Bwonsamdi to be breakin’ y’chains. Ya pacts.”

“....I…would.” Her voice was a tremulous haunt, a fragile hope that was echoed by other nameless souls, grasping to a piece of hope that had began to wither in themselves.

“Not wit’out somet’ng in return, girlie. An’ not wit’out you facin’ y’ death. That is de pact of th’Perished.”

Frustration laced her voice now. “I have died many times. I don’t fear it. I’ve been back and forth between the living and the dead so many times I–”

“Y’lying.”

“What? I’m not… I nearly belong here at this point. I found Orchid here, even when I–”

“When y’passed ovah. And den, you ran from y’death. Got y’self a new body.” The Loa laughed. “Y’aint no pink knife-ear, girl. Y’born human. Died. Raised d’same. Till de Sha be possessin’ you, kick you right outta y’shell. Bwonsamdi know all about y’voodoo.”

Abject denial flowed from the warlock. “I didn’t choose to be put in a new body. Another warlock put me in the damn thing!”

Bwonsamdi gave one of her chains a tug, grinning around his tusks. “Y’didn’t say no, eitha’. Ya cheated death. An’ you attached to de second chance. Cooo-ri-our.”

“…yes.” The remnant that was once Annaliese Handhour sighed in defeat. “I am the Courier now. Death has always been change.”

“But y’demons follow where y’soul does. Can’t be runnin’ from de bed you made. Or th’ death you left behind.”

Confusion fell over the Warlock, but a dread had already worked itself into her question. “…left behind?”

Shadowy energies coalesced into a globule at the Loa’s behest to form the smoky visage of her former body, resurrected once more, yet trailing on with a train of Lost of Lordaeron around tattered skirts. “Dis one serves de Honored Dead already. Y’want my help, you gon’ go back to where y’came from. An’ accept what you lef’ behind as y’own again.”

“…no…” Hope fell short in those words, the displaced souls echoing the Warlock’s lament.

The grip on her chains loosened, a warning tensing the Loa’s distinct accent. “Need t'face y'death, ‘Courier’, an’ wit'it all you done. Y'soul’s fractured, in de hands o’ too many otha bodies dat ain’t you. Can’t help ya be whole again if y'run away from who y'are.” The fel runes along her chains began to take on their familiar burn without the Loa’s touch.

“Two choices, girl: Y'reconnect wit’ y'death, reforge y'purpose to save y'soul by My hands, and serve the Perished. Or ya choose t'serve ya pact, let me end ya pain b'fore y'are consumed by y’ Great Dark, an’ become one o’ de Nameless bound here. Y'already are given and belong t'Bwonsamdi. You gonna have t'choose how.”

{To be continued...}

{ @theperished-wra, and referencing @thefirstperished @gravekeeper-anna }

#Safwriting #Ritual of the Perished #The Courier #The Gravekeep #IC #Canon #Secrets #Four upcoming...

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briteeyess · 8 years ago

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Ask Meme

I don’t normally do these but what the hell, I don’t want to do my homework. Oh yeah, I was tagged by @trashfirelurkingblog

Name/nickname: Annaliese/Adrian. My close friends irl and all the people I used to talk to on the internet called me Adrian but when I started presenting more femininely, everyone just reverted back to my birth name so I went with it. A few people just call me “A”.

Gender: Genderfluid, leaning towards transmasculine but I’ve been more feminine-presenting for the last couple months.

Star sign: Capricorn.

Height: 5′3.5" (yes, the half-inch is important)

Sexual orientation: Demisexual Panromantic with a preference for boys.

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff.

Favorite color: Teal or brown. Brown is such an underrated color, there is so much depth to it.

Favorite animal: Cats and leopard geckos. I love cats way too much.

Average hours of sleep: Three to six.

Cat or dog person: Cats are always there for me.

Favorite fictional character: Rem from Re: Zero, Toska from Prague Race, and a lot more. Just look at my character page in my about.

Number of blankets I sleep with: It depends on how shitty the California weather is and how well our thermostat is working. Typically one or two, but they’re the thin ones.

Favorite Singer/Band: Forewarning, I’m an eclectic piece of shit. Chance the Rapper, J. Cole, Hozier, Lorde, Flatsound, My Chemical Romance, Beyoncé, Death Cab for Cutie. Those are just a few. Also, do the Hamilton/Heathers soundtracks count?

Dream trip: Japan or the Netherlands specifically, but I’m happy to travel anywhere by any means. Take me to the desert on a shitty bus and I’d instantly fall in love with you.

Dream job: In a perfect world, I’d be an author. In the current world, I’d be content being a psychiatrist.

When this blog was created: Late 2013/ early 2014. It’s been through several name and content changes.

Current number of followers: Around 200.

When did your blog reach its peak: The posts I made when I was trying to be positive while being severely dysphoric, something along the lines of, “I’m a boy,” over and over again and, “Reminder that you will get a binder one day”

What made you decide to make this tumblr: I was a stereotypical 7th grader and I wanted to be edgy, so I reblogged depression quotes and ED stuff. I’ve hopefully deleted all of those, please don’t try to go back to see it. I’m a completely different person and I’m ashamed of my past self.

Tag 20 followers you want to get to know better: I don’t tag people in these things, I’m against chain memes/letters because it makes people anxious. If you see this and you wanna do this, go ahead ^.^

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celebritylive · 5 years ago

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Welcome back to paradise!

A new group of former Bachelor and Bachelorette contestants arrived in Mexico ready to find love on Monday night’s premiere of Bachelor in Paradise season 6.

This summer’s crop includes Colton Underwood’s finalists Tayshia and Hannah G.; early villain from Hannah Brown’s season, Cam; her former suitor John Paul Jones; longtime franchise member Chris Bukowski; and other Paradise veterans Bibiana, Wills, Annaliese and Derek, who’d gotten engaged on BiP season 4.

While they were hoping to start something new in Vallarta, Nayarit, one participant hopedwanted to figure out the feelings she had in an existing relationship.

Demi, also from Colton’s season, revealed in a pre-beach chat with Hannah B. that she had “kind of been seeing someone.”

“Plot twist, it happens to be a woman,” Demi, 24, told Hannah B. “It’s not something that I need to label, so I feel like I don’t have to proclaim that I am gay, I am straight, I am bisexual, I am this. I just like who I like. It doesn’t matter who or what you are, it’s the person.”

Demi added that Hannah, 24, would “love” her new partner. “We really fell head over heels for each other,” Demi said. “She has the warmest energy. She never gets mad. She’s amazing.”

Hannah supported her friend and asked Demi whether she and her partner were exclusive. “No exclusivity, nothing like that,” Demi declared.

Demi looked to her time in Paradise to help her decide how to proceed with things back home.

RELATED: Bachelor in Paradise‘s Demi Burnett Confirms She’s a ‘Queer Queen’ as Show Teases Steamy Hookup

“It’s been really confusing,” Demi said. “It’s this constant indecisiveness in me and I just feel like the only way for me to truly know what I want and how I want to love and who I want to love is if I try out Paradise. Maybe Paradise is what it’s going to take for me to figure it out.”

Once she hit the sand, Demi found a connection with 32-year-old Derek, and they ended up kissing in the hot tub.

“I’m ready to find someone that’s ready to have a relationship, and I’m having fun exploring,” she said in an on-camera interview. “I think that that’s why I came here to do, and I’m testing the waters. Flash to me in the hot tub with Derek, Frenchin’.”

Demi continued, “I’ve had some fun with Derek tonight. He’s a sweet, sweet man and I feel good whenever I’m around him. Derek is a good kisser and I love it. I do think that Derek’s sexy. I’m having a lot of fun but I’m definitely trying to take it one day at a time right now.”

Blake’s Tangled Web

The love wasn’t flowing as easily for Caelynn from Colton’s season, who hoped to avoid further drama with her former flame Blake, Becca Kufrin’s runner-up.

“Blake and I talked for a few months and it was really great, but he played me and that sucked,” Caelynn, 23, told host Chris Harrison. “It wasn’t fun. I really did struggle and he hurt me. So if he is here, I just want to clear it up and I’m hopeful that Blake will man up.”

Blake immediately ran away when he saw Caelynn descend the stairs. “Blake sucks,” she continued, as many of the other women expressed interest in going on a date with the 30-year-old. “All of the girls are like saying what a great guy he is, and I’m sitting there like, you guys don’t even know who this guy is. We were seeing each other, I was pretty sure it was exclusive. He’s done some really horrible things to me. So now I’m not interested in him. He’s made it clear he’s not interested in me. I’m a mistake. He’s never apologized, and that’s hurtful.”

Of course, Blake received the first date card, and he asked Tayshia, 28, to join him. As they went off for their evening together, Caelynn opened up to bartender and former Bachelorette contestant Wells.

“I thought he was a great guy and then we really had something,” she told Wells of Blake. “We talked about skipping Paradise and coming out with us, and then he ghosted me. Just like fully stopped communication and now I’m here. F—ing first date. And then we saw each other at a music festival. He ended up sweet-talking me and we spent the night together. And we wake up and I’m in his bed and he’s DMing Hannah G. I’m still in his bed, he’s talking about how hot Tayshia is. I was like, ‘Are you kidding me?’ Like no dude, that’s not okay. And then he was like, ‘I just want to let you know I hooked up with Kristina the night before.’”

Caelynn continued, “He calls me two weeks ago and he’s like, ‘No one can know about us. We’ve got to lie. We’ve got to lie our asses off in Paradise.’”

RELATED VIDEO: Demi Burnett Hooks Up with a Woman in ‘Bachelor in Paradise’ Teaser — and Declares Her Love!

Wells, 35, encouraged Caelynn to tell the rest of the cast about her experience with Blake.

“You’ve got to give everyone the information because how crappy would you feel if this exact same thing happened to someone else and you were like, ‘I didn’t tell them?’” he said.

So Caelynn did exactly that and let Onyeka from Colton’s season be the first to know about her bad experience with Paradise‘s most in-demand bachelor.

“We were like FaceTiming three times a day, texting every day,” Caelynn told Onyeka, 25. “I really liked him. Like I was like, I actually see something with this guy. And everyone last night is like, he’s the king of Paradise. Everyone wants to date him. I was like, guys, he’s so good at twisting things. Very smooth.”

Caelynn also revealed that her ex Colton set her up with Blake, and that they hooked up during the StageCoach Festival in late April.

“He treats girls like scum,” Caelynn said. “Tayshia, he was flirting with you all day at StageCoach and he hooked up with me that night. But he also hooked up with Kristina the night before.”

RELATED: Dean Unglert Says He Was ‘Completely Sober’ While Filming Upcoming Season of Bachelor in Paradise

Because there’s always a storm brewing in Paradise, Kristina was the next to arrive — armed with a date card. Blake seemed much more content with her presence than he had been when Caelynn first got to the beach.

“Me and Kristina were hanging out maybe like six or seven months ago,” Blake told the other men. “It started as a friendship and then it moved into something more. But whether it was the timing or whatnot, but we decided to stay friends and we have been. We’ve still like honestly, we talk. We’re still there for each other for certain things. Honestly, we’ve been very open with each other. It ended very mutually.”

But Kristina didn’t quite see things the same way. And while she chose Blake for her date, she had alternate plans for how she wanted to spend their one-on-one time.

“I honestly thought he would have a little more respect from me, so knowing he spent the night with her kind of hurt my feelings,” Kristina said. “That’s a slap in the face to me. I will not let myself be f—ed over again, so today I’m going to make Blake my bitch.”

Bachelor in Paradise continues on Tuesday at 8 p.m. ET on ABC.

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/2ZAJvxR

#Celebrity

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naughty-teddy-innit · 6 years ago

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Guys. I might have Rehab chap 4 ready to go for ...

T O M M O R O W. Or at the very latest tomorrow NIGHT.

.... But you may not love me by the end. ☹️ My poor Teddy.....

For whatever reason, I don't normally do teasers. But this time... If it's not QUITE ready? I might make an exception. If y'all want it. 👀

#ed sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran fanfiction #rehabilitation #rehab chapter 4 #ed and annaliese #original writing #celebrity fanfiction #celebrity fanfic #it's finally coming #ed sheeran chaptered fic

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naughty-teddy-innit · 6 years ago

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I. Think. It's. DONE!!!

Who's ready for Chapter 3 tomorrow!? 😆😆😆😆

#Ed sheeran #Ed sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran fanfiction #Ed sheeran story #Rehab #rehabilitation #Ed and Annaliese

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naughty-teddy-innit · 7 years ago

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Rehabilitation : Chap. 2 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 2

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

I inhaled, and tipped my head back, a low hum of pleasure escaping my lips. The warm, moist steam that filled my lungs was equally heavenly on my sore, stiff muscles, and I took a long moment to just stand there, to let the spray of hot water cascade down my body. It was so soothing and relaxing and just SO deliciously nice after a very, VERY long day, and for a moment I seriously contemplated just STAYING in there, before reaching down and twisting the slippery knob to shut the water off. I mean, I could quite comfortably have flipped the TV on and relaxed with a cold drink WHILE sitting under the heavenly streams of hot water. It was just that lovely. Sigh.

I awkwardly managed to scoop up the 2 fluffy turquoise bath towels that were hanging on the wall, and wrapped one tightly around myself, and twisted the other around my soaking wet hair. I stepped from the shower, and faced myself in the mirror, quickly wiping the steam from the slick surface. Ugh. I bit my lip at what was staring back at me, wishing for the millionth time, probably like every other woman in the world, that I could change the reflection. Making the same wishes that probably any other girl staring into the mirror would make. Prettier, perkier breasts. Slimmer arms. A flat belly and thighs that didn’t jiggle. I’d always been a curvy girl, it was a trait that ran through almost all of my family, and it was a trait that was a struggle to embrace at the best of times. I self-consciously sucked my tummy in, and turned study the line of my jaw and profile. Add a slimmer face to that list, and lose the double chin, and…I guess that list could go on, right? Funny thing is…I don’t consider myself ugly at all. I love the sparkle of my blue eyes, and I’ve always been told my long, wavy hair belongs in a Pantene commercial. Masses of silky waves that once tamed, really were pretty, and were probably the one feature that made me feel prettiest.

I unwound my hair, quickly ran a comb through my damp tresses, and tucked it back into a simple braid. A bit of moisturizer on my face, some lotion on my arms and shoulders, and that was that. I wrapped myself up in my favourite, faded flannel bathrobe, and turned back to the mirror. I could feel the exhaustion behind my eyes, the dull ache of not enough sleep, an ungodly early morning and just… too much. Too much in my mind, too much on my heart. My eyes squeezed shut, the onslaught of the day washing over me….

______________________________________________________________

“God…. Jesus in Heaven…Oh Ed…My boy…”

For the briefest moment, as his voice broke and he wobbled right in front of my eyes, I’d honestly thought his knees were going to go right from under him. I’d almost found myself grabbing for his elbow, but he’d managed, with his good arm, to steady himself on the railing of the bed.

I had tried to prepare him, but it had to have been a horrible shock for Stuart, seeing Ed that way. He managed to lower himself in to the chair that sat perched by the head of the bed, out of the way of the wires and tubes and beeping equipment, and scooched it as close to Ed’s side as possible.

I saw the sheen of tears in his eyes, but only one managed to land on the scruffy expanse of his cheek before he gathered himself, taking a deep breath and blinking the rest away. It was an awful, brutal sight. I was only a bystander, I didn’t know him at all, but even my stomach hurt to see someone so young in such a god-awful state.

He was white as a ghost, pallid against the sheets and his hospital gown, and he had IV’s, tubes and monitors connected all over his body. His poor face was a mess. A massive gash along his hairline was stitched carefully back together, as was his badly split lip. One eye was bloody, swollen shut and marbled with bruises. The rest of his face wasn’t much better, puffy and covered in contusions and scrapes, and there were dried spatters of blood still matted in his pretty orange hair. His arm and shoulder were tightly braced, and it looked as though metal pins or …something…were protruding from the cast on the lower half of his arm and hand, likely surgically implanted to keep his broken bones in the right place. His neck was braced too, and he was intubated, a breathing tube placed down his throat. His leg was also elevated, casted and in traction, and beyond all the injuries we could see? I could only imagine the injuries we couldn’t.

I don’t think he moved from that chair for hours. He managed to slide his good hand through the railings of the bed, carefully avoiding any tubes or wires, and kept his one good hand laid gently over Ed’s uninjured one. And he just…sat. Watched over him, just like he said. No words spoken, just silent…protection? For hours, he just…sat. Never once leaving his side.

It had to have been close to lunchtime, when he came hurrying back to the front desk, phone in hand.

“If I leave to take this call, will I be allowed back in??” He asked in hushed, but urgent tone. “His mum and dad have finally landed and I need to get them here. I need to tell them where to go. Imogen’s frantic and John’s BARELY holding it together. I don’t imagine you want phone calls in here?”

I looked up from my computer screen and gestured to the call buttons by the door. “Not a problem, Mr. Ca-, I mean, Stuart.” I smiled, remembering what he’d said earlier. “You just have to press the call button outside the door, identify yourself, and we’ll buzz you back in. Get them here safely, okay?”

“Appreciate it, Annaliese, thank you.” He nodded an exhausted smile, and rushed out the door to take the call.

—

His sweet mama, God, she just flat out broke my heart. SO tiny, and just beside herself when they finally arrived. I could see where Ed got his pretty ginger hair from, though hers were streaked, showing her years, and she had beautiful dark eyes. Her husband was taller than her by quite a bit, he had grey, thinning hair and a beard to match, and warm eyes. Her eyes were swollen and red and she looked as though she hadn’t stopped crying in hours, even days, and they still flowed as she clung to her husband. Stu made very quick introductions, mentioning briefly that his brother Matthew would be arriving later in the day; he’d apparently been on vacation with some friends, but I knew they only cared about getting to their son. Stu and John held her tightly, supporting her and holding her up in every way they could while I paged Ed’s doctor and signaled to the nurse that they’d arrived.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sheeran?” I spoke softly. “I’ve paged Dr. Hendry, and he’s on his way right now, and Amy, our charge nurse, will take you to your son. I’m so sorry the last 48 hours have been so rough, but I’m glad you’ve made it now. Please let me know if ANY of you need anything.”

Imogen was beyond words, but she managed a quick, but grateful nod as Amy joined us, and gently led them away.

______________________________________________________________

I shook my head, subconsciously trying to shake free the images swirling around my brain. Once his family had arrived, I’d taken a step back and let the doctors and nurses do their job, an effort to separate myself from a situation that while it didn’t not involve me, somehow had drawn me in anyway. I found myself wanting to check in on him, on his family…. but I pulled back, wanting to maintain some level of professionalism. Still. The remainder of my shift, my mind couldn’t help but wander, and even now, hours later in my own tiny bathroom, I clearly wasn’t having much luck detaching myself.

The steam on the mirror had faded, and there was a chill to the air. I tossed my towel over the shower rail, still trying to figure out for the life of me why this boy had me so drawn in, and fumbled for the switch on the wall. I padded off to my tiny kitchen, determined to find glass of wine and something involving chocolate. I was exhausted, dying to put my feet up on the couch and probably just pass out. I’d not left work until near 6:30 after starting my day at 5, and working ICU/ER shifts meant that my weekends were not always weekends. I was due back in the ICU to cover for Brenda again the next day, but graveyard shift meant I wasn’t due in till much later in the evening, and would work over night.

I sank into the worn, overstuffed cushions on my couch, a glass of chilled White beside me on the aged pine chest my grandmother had passed down to me, and handful of double stuff Oreos for good measure. I fumbled with the remote, flipping on an old episode of Breaking Bad, and several sips and a couple of cookies later, I’d nodded right off.

————

The next day was spent sleeping till late in the afternoon. My body clock was often at a loss; my sleep schedule often changed depending on whether I was working an overnight, a morning or an afternoon/evening. I managed to pull myself out from under my duvet with enough time to do a grocery run, hit the bank and get home to throw down a quick supper. I’d bring a sandwich and some snacks with me, but nothing sucked more than having an empty, rumbly belly when you were stuck at desk on graveyard shift.

My third-floor walkup was about a 10-15 drive from the hospital, but staff parking was brutal, and gas was expensive, so I often just took public transit. This night was no different, and I found myself on the unit with time to spare for the beginning of the graveyard shift. The nurses were completing their shift change at the same time I was starting, so the typical checks were completed and updates given. Cheryl, the nighttime charge nurse, was a sweet lady and one I’d worked with quite a few times before. Unfortunately, she was already a bundle of frazzled nerves when I arrived. Short staffed, one nurse and the other clerk on duty had already called in sick, and the Resident was stuck in traffic. Goddamn. I was already dreading what this night would bring.

Several hours, a cardiac arrest, and a medication allergic reaction later, I was in desperate need of a coffee and a stretch. I hadn’t stopped in hours, not even long enough for my brain to drift to Ed (though I knew he was still with us) and I was due for a break. I logged in my last order and faxed out the last of the requisitions over to 3C, our step-down unit. I lifted myself from the lumpy desk chair, rolling my neck to loosen it up, and stretched my arms behind me.

Cheryl was updating flowsheets and charts at the Nurses Station, kitty corner to my desk, and shot me a grateful smile when I mentioned where I was going.

“Girl. Go. Coffee waits for no woman. Take a fifteen, and lord knows we’ll be here when you get back.”

I grinned and grabbed my bag from under the desk. “Steeped tea, 2 milks and a sugar?”

“Bless you, my child.” The woman actually folded her hands in prayer and crossed herself, and my shoulders shook as I silently cracked up. “My turn next time?”

“You got it.” I tucked my bank card into my pocket and glanced at the massive swinging doors that gated our unit, and then decided to tiptoe through to the back doors that were closer to the elevators. The main cafeteria was closed this time of night, so the coffee shop on the main level would have to be my destination. I tiptoed through the maze of beds, carefully making sure not to disturb anyone, and I was almost to the back of the unit and out the door, when I heard the noise.

First one monitor blared, then another alarm screamed, and then I heard the rattle of the bed rails. Oh no. I whirled around, my coffee forgotten, searching out the source of the commotion.

The flash of orange hair, the rainbow colours of his skin, so bright against his hospital gown and sheets- my heart dropped. Shit.

It was Ed.

Luckily, there was a phone on the wall, and I grabbed it, slapped the call button and paged the Code which would summon the doctor. I could see Cheryl come skidding around the corner- she’d have seen the monitors go off on her screens at the Nurses Station, and she literally flew to his bedside, along with another trauma nurse on duty.

He’d not yet woken up, he’d been unconscious and intubated since he was brought in from the accident, and it looked as though he was finally coming to. The problem with an unconscious or comatose patient coming to with a tube down their throats and no idea where they were or what was going on?

Panic, fear and utter confusion. And panic, fear, and utter confusion can wreak havoc on an already weak and injured body.

I noticed his parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither was Stuart, probably because it was the middle of the night. I grabbed the phone again, and called down to paging to have them call whatever numbers they had on file for his parents. They needed to be here now. If he was waking up, I knew how much he’d need those familiar faces to support him.

I touched nothing, I was very aware that I was NOT a medical professional and I ALWAYS made sure to leave anything medical TO the professionals, but physically, I was closest to him, and mentally…I couldn’t help it. I only wanted to help. His eyes were wide, frantic and panicked and his good arm was trying blindly to yank at the tube that was down his throat. His frightened eyes locked with mine and in his drugged up, confused state, he was blindly reaching for me.

“Hey…. hey, Look at me.” I spoke softly, and very gently wrapped my hand around his, guiding it away from his ventilator tube, and made sure to keep eye contact. I spoke again, clearly, softly and gently. “Ed, Look at me. You’re okay. You’re in a hospital, your family is coming, and the doctor is coming to help you. The tube in your mouth is only to help you breathe. You’re safe. I promise.”

His whole body was tremoring, and he obviously was not all the way conscious from the way his eyes were rolling around and intermittently drifting shut, and I wasn’t sure he’d understood a word I’d said.

Dr. Collins came rushing over, along with his Resident and the surgeon on-call, and together they began to check his monitors and vitals, and issued orders for tests and scans. Cheryl immediately made notations on his chart and sent the second nurse for the sedative and pain med the doctor ordered.

The doctor made his own progress notes, and then waved the nurses and resident back a bit, ostensibly to uncrowd his overwhelmed patient.

“You’re a very lucky young man, considering.” The doctor smiled a reassuring smile, and rumbled on in his deep voice. “I think we’re ready to remove that breathing tube, but you must try to remain calm. You’ve had a rough ride. We’ll talk more when you’re feeling stronger, and when your family has returned.”

He gestured at Cheryl to come assist with extubating the tube. I quickly moved to step back and get out of the way, but a set of warm, strong fingers, fingers I’d still been squeezing up until just a moment ago, quickly wrapped tightly around my hand and wrist. A pair of the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen looked at me and frantically begged me to stay, no words needed. His grip was strong, and I could see him shake his head just the tiniest fraction of an inch when I’d tried to pull back.

I gently squeezed his hand back, and bit my lip, a (what I hoped was) a reassuring smile flitting across my face. He wouldn’t be alone. I’d make sure of it.

“I won’t go. I promise.” I whispered, holding on tight. “I’m right here.”

TBC…..

Xoxox

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna hide in my little corner over here and hope the wait was worth it? I know it’s not my longest piece of writing, but I kinda love. Small disclaimer- Take everything with a grain of salt, and allow for touch of creative license pretty please lol I do work in a hospital, I do Annaliese’s job, but I haven’t worked in ER or ICU before, so if I’m a tad off, it’s with the best of intentions!!

ALL FEEDBACK/ASKS/NOTES/MESSAGES much appreciated and welcomed! Love you guys!

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naughty-teddy-innit · 7 years ago

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Rehabilitation : Chap. 1 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 1

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO

CHAPTER 1

I craned my neck, to the left slowly, and then to the right. “Mmmmmmm...” I mumble-moaned, trying to loosen and stretch my stiff muscles. For once, I was at the tail end of day shift. My normal hours would often take me through the night into the wee hours of the morning, but today I found myself battling piles of precariously stacked charts right into the dinner hour, and I was feeling it. It was one of those days where I felt it necessary to knock on wood, a catch-up day we often called it, because so far, no crazy emergencies had come in. No crashes or outbreaks, no crying parents or injured children or mass tragedies. Days like this were always a welcome relief, and exactly why I could currently be found hunched over a mountain of paperwork, rather than running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. Having said all that, it was becoming super obvious that food was going to be necessary in very short order. And coffee. DEFINITELY coffee.

“Leesie, love…?”

“Hmm??” I spun my chair around at the soft voice behind me, and smiled at the friendly face it belonged to. Gray-haired, big brown eyes, and grandmotherly curves, Brenda had many, many years on me in this hospital. She and I worked together often, and she was often a motherly figure to us young ones, honest to a fault with a heart of gold, and we loved her for it.

“Hey lady, what’s up?” I stood, and turned my back to the desk, shooting her a warm smile. Welcoming the chance to move my body, I stretched my arms over my head, and leaned my hip back against the curved surface.

“Well, Sweetheart…” She paused. “I was hoping I could ask you a favour?” She cocked her head to the side, and I recognized THAT hopeful look.

“When do I ever say no to you, Mama B?” I shook my head and crossed my arms with a grin, and waited for what I knew was coming.

“I’m supposed to cover a couple of shifts up in ICU this week, tomorrow bright and early, and Saturday graveyard.” She hesitated, and with that I knew exactly where I’d be found those two days.

“Operative words being Supposed to?” I raised an eyebrow, and huffed a laugh at the knowing smirk that crossed her face.

“You know me too well!” She chuckled, and shifted her weight. “You know my Hannah’s been having a tough time now she’s at the end of this baby business, and her doctor wants bring her in for an induction tomorrow afternoon. High blood pressure and the whole nine yards. I had next week off anyway, her due date! But I need to be there for her tomorrow. I can tell ya, Nana is NOT missing this!”

“Oh!!” I couldn’t control the grin that spread across my face! She’d been waiting for this moment for months and months. “B, I got it. Go be with your baby AND your grandbaby. Do not even worry.”

“As usual, you are the BEST, Leesie. THANK YOU. Next time you need a cover, I’m at your mercy. I’ll let Mary know to update the roster!” She reached over and squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back with a firm hand and a grin. I was just glad to help out.

Even it did mean a 5 am start. Sigh.

_____________________________________________________________

Despite the unconscionable hour that I’d been forced to set my alarm for, I actually preferred the early morning hours to the late or overnight shifts. Something about a brand-new day, a fresh new slate waiting to be written upon. It always put in a ready-to-go state of mind, and today was no different.

Intensive care was a whole different ball game from Emergency. There was not nearly the chaos that came through the revolving door downstairs, but the lives we cared for still hung in the balance. ICU was where you found the patients who were not yet stable enough to move anywhere else, who needed continuous monitoring, and who were either recovering from emergency surgery or might need to be rushed to surgery, in an instant. Visitors were restricted, and the continuous beep and wail of monitors and alarms were routine. You could feel the gravity of our unit the moment you walked through the swinging doors, I was rather proud of the fact that I was able to keep my calm and do my job well when a patient’s status deteriorated.

Walking in, I ran through my mental checklist, readying myself for the day. The “Day-Board”, also known as the giant whiteboard on the wall behind our central desk, listed our current patients. Names and Chart/Unit numbers, status, room numbers, and the doctor on duty, were kept meticulously updated on this board, for the benefit of the nurses, the doctors and anyone else involved in ICU care. There was a similar board downstairs in the ER, to track our patients in a similar fashion, and no matter where I was or what area I was working in, scanning that board was ALWAYS my first order of the day (or night!).

I checked in with the clerk finishing up from the night before, and greeted the nurses on duty before signing into my workstation. My eyes swept the board as I settled into my workstation; a middle-aged dad waiting for a bypass after a massive heart attack and a little one in bad shape after a nasty fall. A young girl, only 16, had suffered a nasty anaphylactic reaction, and an elderly woman in bad shape after a stroke. Finally, I noticed, 2 of the bus crash victims from the ER. I exhaled softly, seeing their names. I was beyond relieved they were still with us. After the scene only 48 hours prior, when they were brought in…I wasn’t sure whether they would be.

“Annaliese?”

I whirled around at the sound of my name, cheerfully greeting one of the nurses at the desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“If you could grab the order sheets from the charts, and get them all entered, that would be terrific. Dr. Collins has them all updated and ready to go, and Lord only knows, when Dr. Hendry comes on shift, everything BETTER be at his fingertips.” A sigh and smile and she continued. “You know how he is. Save yourself the trouble! Let’s see…Alison, Dr. Hamoudi, is the surgeon on-call tonight, and the Resident is on rounds, he’ll be back for shift change later. Hendry’s on call for everything else. Page him if necessary, he’s on the board.” She paused. “…I think that’s it?”

Goody. Dr. Hendry was nobody’s favourite. His ego was known far and wide as massively overinflated and a gigantic pain in everyone’s ass. Lucky for him, and for his patients, his saving grace was that he was a damn good doctor.

“Got it and I’ll get right on the paperwork. Thanks Amy!”

“Have a great day Annaliese, thanks again for covering!”

We both heard the direct line to the OR go off, and while she dashed off to answer the call, I headed off to discreetly gather my paperwork. Charts hung on the front of each ICU bed, and order sheets were always clipped to the front, making them easy and quick for us to find without disturbing the patients. I smiled warmly and gently at family members sitting with their loved ones, softly explaining why I was there, and apologizing for my intrusion. I could see the fear and anxiety etched on their faces, and I tried be as warm and reassuring as I possibly could.

I had gathered all but one, and the last bed was in a corner by itself. The patient in the bed, he was still unconscious, and the usual monitors and wires and tubes crisscrossed his body. He was intubated, a tube down his throat that helped him to breathe, and when my eyes caught the beautiful, fiery orange hue of his hair against the paleness of his skin and sheets, I remembered him immediately. The boy from the bus crash.

I didn’t figure he was as young as he looked, ashen and still against the sheets, but I couldn’t help the thought that he looked like a small boy all on his own like that. Even the sweet sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks, his delicate eyelashes…such innocence. I so hoped he’d be okay. I cocked my head and paused for a brief moment, the thought crossing my mind that I’d not seen any family? Where in the world were they? I shook my head softly, making a note to check into that when I got back to the desk. I very quietly gathered the paperwork I needed, my eyes sweeping over him one last time, taking in the vivid colours on his arms, and rise and fall of his chest. I really hoped he’d be alr-…

“Then find me someone who CAN help me. PLEASE.”

What in the world?? I did a double take at the sudden intrusion of a deep, aggravated, British brogue emanating from around the corner, presumably at the front desk in the front of the unit. Whoever it was, he was NOT happy.

The last thing I wanted was any of our patients or their families to be disturbed. I strode quickly around the corner, and saw one of our Care Aides standing at the desk, intimidation etched across her face at the gentleman facing her from the other side of the nurses’ station.

She looked MORE than relieved to see my face, this sort of situation was not generally a part of their job description; transporting supplies and medications, assisting patients, maybe, but dealing with distraught families or patients not so much.

“Sir?” I said softly, calmly. “How can I help you?”

He appeared to be middle-aged; thinning gray hair, scruffy-jawed and a round middle. His arm was fully casted, and in a sling, and he appeared to have some stitches along hairline, crossing his forehead. The thing that struck me the most through, the thing that somehow always caught me when dealing with someone in this sort of situation, was his eyes. This was a man who hadn’t slept in ages. He was obviously agitated, frustrated, exhausted…. but mainly? He was scared. I could see the stress and panic in his eyes, and I had no doubt there was likely a damn good reason for his outburst.

“My name is Stuart. Stuart Camp.” He exhaled, and then rubbed his eyes with his good hand, tiredly. “I feel like I’ve explained this 3 bloody times since last night, but we’ll try it again. There was a godawful crash, a bus crash, about 36 hours ago, and a young man was brought in. Edward, 26 years old. I need to see him, I need to know he’s okay. I’ve not had a wink of damn sleep and I’m just…knackered. I…. Jesus Christ. I just need to see him. Please.”

The rules in Intensive Care generally dictated that only immediate family be allowed in to visit a patient, and usually only 1 at a time. SOMETIMES, 2. I had a feeling though…

“Are you a family member, sir? A parent? Our rules are quite strict in intensive care, we usually only-“

He cut me off. “I’m not…not really, anyway. His mum and his dad, they’re from across the pond, in England, they’re not here yet.” He stopped to catch his breath, a weathered hand rubbing at the graying scruff that covered his jawline. “They should be touching down shortly. The airports, Jesus. You’d think they’d get their heads out of their asses considering- Never mind.” He steadied himself and continued. “They’re in a right state, Imogen especially, and they’ve been told VIRTUALLY nothing. He’s alone back there. He’s not even got cousins or aunts or anyone here. Please….”

I could see the anxiety and desperation in his widened eyes, and I really, truly wanted nothing more than to help, but…

“Mr. Camp, I can only begin to imagine how awful this must be for you, I’m so sorry. You’re not a family member, you said…?” I paused, hoping to glean some more information. “Can I ask how you know the patient? I’m afraid our confidentiality policies make it impossible for me to give out any information, if you’re not family?”

“It’s rather complicated…” He trailed off. “We’ve…worked together for 8 years. I’m his manager.” He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he fought to make his point. “Whether or not you’ve recognized him, I don’t know; right now, I’m trusting that you follow your own confidentiality policies. He’s one of the best-known singer-songwriters in the world right now. I’ve been with him from the beginning, and he IS family to me. His family is my family, in every way. I am not asking you to release any medical records or information on his health, I am simply asking to just…sit with him. Just let me watch over him until his family arrives. I can’t stand the thought of him back there alone. Please?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t really recognized the boy from the crash at all. His lovely orange hair had struck me as familiar, but I wasn’t much for social media, and most of the music I listened to was what played on the radio at whatever desk I was working at. Regardless of who he was, though, I’d never have violated his privacy.

I was still a bit fuzzy on the particulars, but I what I wasn’t fuzzy on? Was how much this gentleman obviously cared for the red headed boy in the back. I wanted to help, I truly did.

I took a deep breath. “Let me speak to the nurse, Mr. Camp. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” I smiled at him, trying to put as reassurance and warmth into the gesture as I could, and motioned toward the set of seats by the automatic entrance doors. “Why don’t you have a seat for a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

He nodded tiredly, and managed a small but grateful smile. “Thank you, Love. I appreciate it.”

He was still sitting there when I returned about 10 minutes later; hunched over, elbows resting on his knees with his head buried in his hands.

“Mr. Camp?” I said softly, catching his gaze as I approached. He sat bolt upright with widened eyes, obviously waiting for me to say something. “I spoke to the nurse, and she in turn checked with the Resident on call, and while we CANNOT under any circumstances release any information on his health or medical status…” I took a deep breath, allowing a small smile to play across my features at the sight of him jumping out of his chair. “We’ll allow you into the unit to be with him until his family arrives.”

I could see his whole body sag as he exhaled, and his whole head tipped forward, chin to chest for just a brief moment as he steadied himself. “Thank you.” His voice rumbled deep, the emotion evident. “Thank you, thank you very, very much. His Mum and Dad are due to land after lunch; I’ve just had a text with their flight update. You have my word I won’t interfere once they’re here.” He huffed a dry laugh. “Hell, I won’t interfere NOW.”

“I’m glad we could help, Mr. Camp, I really am. I’ll bring you back if you’re ready, but…you might want to prepare yourself.” I took a deep breath, and stared him in the eyes, purposefully keeping my voice calm and soft. “I meant it when I said that we can’t give you any information in regards to his status or injuries until his next of kin arrives. But…he is in rough shape. You need to know that.”

His eyes had been focused on me until I’d finished that last sentence, and then I could see him almost get lost in whatever was tossing and turning in his head.

“He should have been in the back of the bus. He’s a damned night owl, couldn’t sleep after the show…I was passed out on the couch in the back, and he was messin’ around with his guitar in the front. He…” His voice trailed off, almost breaking as he gathered himself. I tilted my head and bit my lip, listening to him, letting him get this out. How terrifying it must have been. My heart hurt so badly for him. “He was right where the bloody truck hit. The sound of those ruddy loud brakes screeching woke me up, that fucking truck, smashed right into the side of the bus. Right where he was. Right where Michael was driving. He always loves sitting up front on the late-night drives, keepin’ Mikey company. He should have been in BED.” He squeezed his eyes shut just for a fleeting moment, and sucked in a deep breath, like he was trying to shore himself up. He straightened up, looking me in the eye once more. “Please excuse this old man’s incoherent, exhausted ramblings; the last 36 hours have been HELL. But he’s here. How, I don’t know, but he is, and he’s not going to be alone while he recovers from this. Doesn’t matter what he looks like right now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well then, let me bring you to him.” I smiled softly, struck by the vehemence in his words, and the fierce determination in his eyes. I took a deep breath and gestured for him to follow me. “It sounds like he’s very lucky to have someone like you in his corner, Mr. Camp. I’m really glad you’re okay, by the way.”

“Thank you. I know it could have been so much worse.” He looked down at my badge for just a moment, and then back up. “Annaliese, is it? Please just call me Stu. I appreciate your help and kindness more than you know.” His voice was calmer, and filled with genuine gratitude. “Now where can I find him?”

“Bed 8.” I smiled. “And you’re very welcome. Follow me.”

______________________________________________________________

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope you guys don’t mind the slow build and set up, but trust me, I have SO many ideas and plans simmering in my head. Hope you love it, and I’m BEGGING you for any and all feedback, replies, Asks, Anons, etc......Us writers THRIVE on it. Xoxoxoxoxo

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran Fanfic #Ed sheeran fanfiction #Ed sheeran story #fanfic #fanfiction #Code Ginger #Teddy Sheeran #Teddy sheeran fanfic #Teddy Sheeran fanfiction #NO smuts yet #Poor Stu :(#Ed and Annaliese

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naughty-teddy-innit · 7 years ago

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Rehabilitation : An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab - An Intro

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG? No smuts or sexytimes, but warnings for intense content.

Click here for: CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION: Annaliese, or “Leesie”, is 28 years old, and has seen far too much in her 6 years working in a hospital trauma/Emergency unit. Her way of giving back, of coping, is to give her time as a Support Volunteer. Little does she expect to encounter someone who will change her life.

Rehabilitation

For 6 years this place has been my second home. Some days I leave exhausted, some days glad and relieved, and more often than I’d like, heartbroken. I’m just a lowly clerk, an administrative minion in one of the busiest metropolitan Emergency Rooms in the country. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’m a problem solver, a conflict resolver, a computer whiz, and they couldn’t run the desks without me. On my best days, I’m a mood-lifter and smile-bringer; on my boring days, I’m just the lady that orders your x-rays, registers you in the system, deals with the paper trail, and tracks your bloodwork. A Spiderman sticker or a lollipop can do wonders for a frightened child, warm words and the squeeze of a hand can calm a terrified mother or husband. I never wanted to be a nurse, or the doctor that held a damaged heart in their hand. Blood is not my thing, and neither is the life and death responsibility that goes with it. My job is its own reward, and it’s perfect for me. The flip side of that, though, is the pain and loss you see in a place like this. A weeping mother learning her teenager’s been taken too young in a car accident, a father lost to a heart attack, a college student paralyzed in a terrible work accident, and so much more. The compassion and selflessness that emanates from the doctors, nurses and caregivers in our unit, though, never ceases to amaze me, and I’m proud to be even a small part of it.

For the last 18 months, I’d also found yet another way to spend even more time in this place (because I’m not here enough already, right?). It was a way to feel as though I was doing something to help counteract the heartbreak and sadness, to infuse the world with some positivity and give back. Our hospital system has a massive volunteer network, from teenagers to elderly retired grandparents, and there was always a need for them. A sick preemie who needed some cuddling, a child struck by cancer that needed a video game partner, or someone who could be soothed by the music played on the baby grand in the lobby. Me? I’m sorta what you’d call a candy striper. I volunteer twice a week in various inpatient units, and I try to be a friend. I might build a puzzle or play a game of Scrabble with a grandmother recovering from surgery, share a meal with a young man who’s rehabilitating from an overdose, or just watch TV or read a book with a preschooler who’s broken their leg. Small things, but I like to think they make a difference to someone who’s feeling lonely or sad or scared. It often takes some persistence, sometimes a few visits, to break down someone’s door, figuratively speaking. But it’s almost always worth it.

I was not a volunteer the night his accident happened. 2 o’clock in the morning, mid-March and slushy and COLD, and I was on yet another never-ending night shift. It had actually been eerily calm most of the night, which in our ER? Usually meant the storm was coming. The radio crackled to life, and I could hear the dispatcher snapping out information and directions, while performing the usual intake. Doctors hopped-to and nurses scurried to prep the trauma rooms. I could only make out a few words, but it was enough to know it was a bad one.

“TOUR BUS…IMPACT….”

“MULTIPLE VICTIMS AND INJURIES”

“Icy conditions… T-boned…At least 4 incoming…”

Within minutes, the scream of the ambulance sirens filled the space, and after taking a deep breath, I prepared for the onslaught. This sort of situation could only ever be described as a whirlwind; the frantic rush of patients on stretchers, stats and orders being yelled at top volume, medical equipment blaring and beeping. I took my station, quickly and quietly punching in orders, looking up family contacts, and paging necessary personnel. An older gentleman was rushed in first, grey haired and wide awake, frantically yelling for information in a British accent and trying to insist he was fine. As requested, I paged x-ray, and was relieved to hear to hear the words “STABLE” and “NON- LIFE-THREATENING”.

The paramedics came running in with another older gentleman, bearded and restrained with a neck brace, tears streaming down his face. Words like “fractured vertebrae” and “punctured lung” passed my ears, and our orthopedic surgeon was quickly brought in to assess. I could hear his guilt soaked words as they rushed him away, the fear and anguish etched on his face.

“I’m so sorry, oh god, I didn’t mean to, they said I fell asleep, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone…” Punctuated by sobs, he just repeated these words, over and over and over.. My guess is he must have been the driver that caused the crash, and it was confirmed later on that he was career trucker, 25 years driving long hauls across state lines. Harsh deadlines, a double load of freight, and not enough caffeine had ended in disaster. My heart hurt not only for the man who’d have to live with this guilt, and the consequences of his actions, but for the people who he’d hurt. It was never, ever fair, these situations.

I steeled myself, hearing the 3 letters that brought heartache to all of us, every single time they were uttered. “D.O.A” Dead on arrival. The driver of the bus. Traumatic brain injury, I heard one doctor softly utter, and after those words I tuned out his muted voice. Often, the nitty-gritty was too much to absorb.

My focus shifted to the urgent yell of voices and the crash of the doors as the last victim of the crash was wheeled in. “26-year-old male.” “Unconscious.” “Intubation.” “PAGE DR COSETTI.” “Red Line to the OR. NOW.”

All I could make out from the man laying limp on the stretcher was a mop of beautiful bright orange curls, and a pale (…somewhat familiar looking?) face dotted with freckles. He was young, and I couldn’t allow myself to focus on his badly injured body. He was clad in pair of pajama pants and a worn white t-shirt. It had been cut open (presumably by the paramedics) for access after the accident, and I couldn’t help but take note of how colorful he was.

He was whisked through our triage area, bypassing the trauma bay altogether, his monitors blaring, and before I could form any more thoughts, the elevators that would carry him to the OR had swallowed him up.

I could only take a deep breath, and say a silent prayer.

_______________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: My job is very, very similar to what Annaliese does in this story, and that’s what led me into it. I’m really, really excited for this story, and I feel the need to point out that I began writing this story WAY before poor In Real Life Ed had his accident. I actually held off posting it because of what happened, but I’m ready to start sharing it now!! Please, PLEASE. I’m begging you guys. FEEDBACK. Anons are cool. LOL

An Ask, a message, a reblog, a comment. ALL are needed, ALL are appreciated. Even if you are mad at me.....

Xoxoxoxoxoxox

#Ed Sheeran #Ed sheeran fanfic #Ed sheeran fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Ed and Annaliese #rehabilitation #Story #Fiction #Code Ginger #Sheerios #I PROMISE HE DOESN'T DIE #Teddy Sheeran #Teddy Sheeran fanfic #Teddy Sheeran fanfiction

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weareedsobfg · 6 years ago

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Chapter 3 is here!! Xoxox

Rehabilitation: Chapter 3 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title: Rehab: Chapter 3

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating: PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for: INTRO Chapter 1 Chapter 2

I loved the sound of that tarnished brass bell more than just about anything in the whole world. It hung from a simple wooden arm that was fastened to the wall, and the thick, worn rope that hung down only partially blocked the small silver plaque on the wall beneath, from view. It hung in one of the busiest units in our hospital, the 3F Peds Oncology clinic. On any given day, you could find anywhere from 25 to 40 children and teenagers within these walls receiving any number of cancer treatments; chemotherapy, infusions and transfusions, port flushes, and more. As part of my volunteer position, I often spent my time with the children and families that spent the majority of THEIR time in the oncology clinic, and the very best days were the ones where that bell rang. These sweet babies, some only figurative babies, could spend months of their lives at a time suffering through cancer treatments once a diagnosis was made, and the very sweetest moments for all of us, was when they finished their very last treatment and were finally allowed to celebrate. They got to ring the hell out of that bell, surrounded by all the doctors and nurses and caregivers and mommies and daddies and sisters and brothers and volunteers and EVERYONE that had helped them on their journey. The loud, uneven, clangy peals of the bell were such an expression of excitement and courage and joy and celebration for our little (and not so little) warriors, and when they finally got to grab onto the thick braided rope beneath the bell and swing the hell out of it with everyone crying and cheering them on, it filled my heart up more than anything else ever had.

Today, it was Noah’s turn. I loved the time I got to spend in 3F as a volunteer, it was one of my favourite assignments, and meeting him had been one of the highlights of my year. I had watched many little ones, and many teenagers, ring that bell and go on into remission, and unfortunately, there were more of our “warriors” than I wanted to count who had rung the bell and hadn’t gone on into remission at all. My heart ached at the number, but it never stopped me from loving the ones who were with us with everything I had, and in the last year, Noah had stolen my heart right out from under me. He was 5, and every morning, it was race to make it in our doors and grab his ID bracelet before his mama even made it off the elevator. He’d come RACING in, his favourite shiny red superhero cape Velcro-ed around his neck, and he’d be roaring his battle cry at the top of his lungs and raring to go. You could just about always hear him coming from down the hallway and around the corner, and his never-ending enthusiasm and energy never ceased to astound and inspire us. We loved him fiercely. His golden blonde hair was just beginning to grow back in, buzz cut length about, and he had gorgeous twinkling hazel eyes that were always smiling, even amidst the chemo and meds and needles. His response to “Good MORNING, Noah!!” as he zoomed in every day was ALWAYS greeted by a vehement “I’m Noah Alexander CAMERON!!”

He’d been battling Hodgkin’s Lymphoma for close to a year, and after some beautifully clear scans and the best results on his bloodwork that could be hoped for after all these months, today marked his very last round of chemotherapy. Once the last IV has been disconnected, he’d insisted on “HIGH FIVES ALL EVERYBODY!!” and he’d carefully adjusted his cape while we’d all gathered in a massive circle in the front of the unit, and when he decided we were in position, he just took off. He didn’t miss a one of us, slapping a massive high five to every single one of us as he charged around our circle, a determined scrunched up expression on his face. When he slapped his last high five, he punched a fist in the air, and marched right on up to that bell. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place as his small hands fisted that rope and than swung it with as much strength as a grown man would have mustered. The clear clangs of the bell, mingled with his Super Hero roar, and the cheers and yells and clapping of all the people that loved him, was the very best sound I’d ever heard I my life. I LOVED that bell.

We’d had a mini party with chocolate milk and rainbow sprinkle cupcakes; his mom and dad had brought them in to share with everyone on his special day, and then exchanged enormous hugs before he left for home, his red superhero cape still flying behind him as he ran. I knew he’d be back to visit, and that he’d transition to our Off-Care clinic for monitoring, and so we hadn’t seen the last of him. I’d miss our Mario Kart games and fist bumps, but I was so proud of how strong he’d been through everything. He deserved to go be a KID. I hope he lived it up.

I waved my goodbyes, letting everyone know I was done for the day, and headed out. I found myself absentmindedly fiddling with the laminated edge of the volunteer badge that was currently pinned to the front pocket of my jeans as I waited for the elevator that would take me down 3 levels to find my bus. My head registered the ding of the doors opening right in front of me, but my mind must have been elsewhere, because as I stepped forward I managed to plow right into the older gentleman that was stepping off right in front of me.

“Oh GOD! Oh, I’m so sorry!!”

One hand flew to my mouth as I stepped back hurriedly, the other automatically reaching out, just in case I had, in fact, knocked the poor man over.

Nicely done, Annaliese, you just about mowed him down. Shit.

I straightened up and found myself face to face with an exhausted, unshaven, but kind face. It also happened to be one that I recognized right away. Trust me to walk smack right into Ed’s dad.

I’m not quite sure I realized how stalker-ish it would sound, when the words “Mr. Sheeran, are you alright??” burst forth from my mouth, being that he likely had NO clue who I was. The brief introduction in Intensive Care had only been a few days ago, but with everything him and Imogen had gone through just to get there, the late hour, the cloak of fear and emotion, I’d have been shocked if he’d remembered me.

“You’re just fine, love. No harm done. Just an old man too tired to pay any bloody attention where he’s going.” The rich timber of his English accent was lovely, the tone almost rueful amidst his exhaustion, but his voice was gentle. He tipped his head sideways slightly, eyeing me up. “I would ask how you know my name.” He said wryly, “but it seems these days, more and more people seem to know who I am.” A small smile brightened his face for just a moment. “Got my boy to thank for that, I suppose?”

Lord knows I was many things, but a fangirl wasn’t one of them. In a peripheral sort of way, I knew that Ed was famous, one of the biggest musicians in the world at the moment; but keeping up with celebrities wasn’t really a priority to me. In my mind and heart, Ed was simply a patient in my hospital, and one I really badly wanted to be okay.

“Oh…oh no!” I immediately regretted the awkwardness of the chuckle that slipped from my lips, and inwardly rolled my eyes at my ever-present gracefulness. “I can’t imagine that you’d remember me, but, I was working in the ICU the night you and your wife arrived. Actually- “. I paused and swallowed, dialing it back a notch. “I was working in the Emergency Room the night of the accident. When Ed was brought in. I just happened to remember you because Stuart, I mean, Mr. Camp, introduced us.”

Babble a little more, Annaliese. Honestly.

“Wait. Wait just one moment, then…” he said slowly, his eyes suddenly taking me in and a warm smile filtering across his features. “You’re the girl that held his hand. How could I forget that?”

I was pretty sure I knew EXACTLY what he was talking about, but I never realized he’d seen me. That night in the ICU, the night Ed had woken up terrified and discombobulated, and I’d promised I wouldn’t leave him when he’d refused to let go, they must have returned and I hadn’t realized. I had stayed with him, just like I’d promised, until they’d removed the tube from this throat and assured that he was breathing properly on his own. They’d sent him off for a multitude of scans and tests once they were sure he was stable, and it was only when he released my hand on his own, that I had stepped back. I’d known that his family had been paged, but once he’d been moved, I’d melted back into the background, and continued on in my quest for coffee. I hadn’t see him since.

“Oh lord.” I felt a bit of colour flood my face, and I really, really hoped he hadn’t thought I was overstepping. “It really wasn’t anything, Mr. Sheeran. Honestly. It’s really pretty common when someone wakes from unconsciousness after an accident to be pretty flustered, scared…confused…” Even I could tell my voice faltered for a moment as my brain skipped back, like movie scene rewound, to that night in the ICU. “I just…I only wanted to help. Sometimes something as simple as touch, it’s like a physical anchor. It really helps sometimes. I just was glad to be there.”

“Means more than you might think, Love.” His voice was gruff, and his eyes were focused anywhere but on me. “Bein’ s’far away and getting a phone call like that…All I could think about, all IMOGEN could think about, was how he was alone so far away. We couldn’t get here fast enough. I’ll be bloody honest with you, I don’t remember Stuart introducing us in the slightest.” He laughed a dry laugh, one that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Helluva night, it was. But. I do remember my phone bleepin’ me out of a sleep, first real sleep we’d had in almost 36 hours after we left the hospital, and rushin’ back like a madman thinking he was alone and we wouldn’t make it if something had gone wrong. I do remember stumbling through those doors and seeing YOU keepin’ him calm and holding on. He wasn’t alone after all. I’m…Imogen and I, that is, we’re grateful for a lot of things right now, but that especially. Thank you.”

Holy cow…I had no idea what to even say; It wasn’t even a second thought for me. I’d had no idea…

“I’m just really, really glad I was able to be there, Mr. Sheeran. No thanks necessary, truly. How’s he doing, if you don’t mind my asking…?”

He smiled ruefully and gave his head a slight shake at my last words.

“Oh Jesus, you can just call me John. Mr. Sheeran just means I’m old, I think??” He smiled, and then sighed, his face showing his exhaustion. “He’s going to be alright. That’s the main thing, innit? He’s managed to break half ‘is bones, and they’re worried about the damage he’s done to his right hand and shoulder. He’s bloodied up and bruised, and looks like shit, pardon my words, but he’ll heal in time. His lung seems to be holding up; one of his smashed-up ribs managed to puncture it, and his brain’s intact. Thank God. Mostly he’s been sleeping and they’ve kept him sedated so he can rest comfortably and heal. Hard to keep it all straight, but he’s not in any immediate danger. Again, Thank God.”

He suddenly seemed to remember who he was going on about, and looked at me quite…carefully? I suddenly found myself feeling uneasy, like he was sizing me up.

“Look…Love, I hate to have to say this, but I’m not thinkin’ so clearly right now. I likely shouldn’t have divulged all that. Ed’s got quite the following, and we’re REALLY trying to be careful about what’s being released to the public. We’ve already had leaks; people trying to pay off for information, fans trying to sneak in. The media is a shitshow right now. Stuart is handling it, bless him, but…I’d very much appreciate your discretion. I apologize if that sounds presumptuous or rude, but unfortunately, it’s just a fact of life for us with my boy being who he is. Privacy is difficult at the best of times, and right now, for obvious reasons, it’s paramount.”

There was zero hesitation in my reply, not even a pause. “You have my word, John. I take my job very seriously. Well, I take my volunteering very seriously too, but…I would never say word. That’s a promise. Exploiting somebody like that, it’s just…that’s messed up.” I was disgusted. Who does something like that?? Celebrity or not, he’d been through a trauma and was only human, he deserved as much privacy and dignity as anyone else.

His eyes swept the shiny surface of my ID card, before refocusing on my face, a bit of warmth returning to his face.

“Annaliese. A lovely name.” He smiled and gestured toward the burnished silver steel of the elevator doors that had just opened in front of us. “I won’t keep you but thank you again. Perhaps we’ll see you again. Don’t think we’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

He sighed a rueful sigh and we parted ways. As the elevator swallowed me up, I couldn’t help but hope that he was right.

——–

I was exhausted. I’d worked a nearly 11-hour graveyard in the ER, stumbled home for a shower and much needed rendezvous with my bed and woke to my alarm screaming that it was time to start the whole cycle again. I was at the 9-hour mark of another ER shift, and super thankful for an uneventful afternoon. Uneventful usually translated into my being able to slip out on time, something that was, unfortunately, not usually a guarantee.

I updated the Day Board behind me and filed away the last of my paperwork, checking to make sure all my loose ends were tied up before I left for the day. I let out a yawn and caught Brenda’s eye as I began to gather up my belongings.

“I do believe my work is here is done. You good if I head out, B?

“Hot date tonight, Leesie?” Her tone was teasing, as was the eyebrow that was raised in my direction. She was forever on about finding me a man, and never missed a chance to check in on my (non-existent) love life.

“I wish!” I said, rolling my eyes in her direction. “I do however have a hot date with my sister and a girlfriend to see the new Zac Efron movie tomorrow night…So…. Fantasy boyfriend??” I cracked up at her expression and logged out of my computer. “You’ll be the first to know when some gorgeous Megastar falls in love with me and whisks me away. I promise.”

“You better.” She quipped, that eyebrow still raised. “You’re a gorgeous, kind, brilliant girl, and you need a man to worship you. That…and I’m too damn old for pretty young men. Need somebody to live vicariously through, don’t I?” She sighed.

I literally snorted at that. “I’ll get right on that.“

“That’s my girl.” She raised an eyebrow, and we both fell to pieces laughing. “Alright. Enough silliness. Get out and go home- Oh! Actually, Lovie, would you mind running the Inpatient paperwork up to 4C before you head out? It never made it up yesterday, and Sue called down looking for it.”

“Course I can.” I reached behind me and grabbed the sheaf of papers from the IP tray, and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Not in again till Friday, so I’ll see you then?”

—–

“…Fuck sake, just TELL ME?”

My head snapped around at the loud, distraught voice emanating from behind the door adjacent to the nurses’ station.

“Why the bloody hell can’t I feel my hand…. Jesus. WHAT. HAPPENED.”

I quickly stuffed the thick sheaf of paperwork into the IP slot on the wall of trays, adjusted my ID badge, and stepped cautiously towards the slightly open door. It was early evening, right around the time for shift changeover and the desk was empty while the team did rounds. I didn’t work on the unit and didn’t want to step on any toes, but I was still a hospital employee, so I figured I’d at least check and see if any assistance was needed or if anyone needed to be paged or summoned.

I knocked lightly, just a finger to the door, and before I could utter a word a familiar face filled my vision. Two actually, as the door swung open, because the pale faced boy with the beautiful ginger locks that was currently laid up in the hospital bed behind the door, was a face I’d come across before. He was still mottled with bruises, stitched up and swollen, leg in traction and his arm and shoulder casted and pinned, but he was wide awake and the only oxygen assist I could make out was the nasal cannula draped over his face. And he was NOT calm.

“Are you a nurse???” His blue eyes were wide, frantic. “Look I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be loud, but what the hell happened?? I feel like I’m in some fucked up cloud and everything bloody HURTS and I just- “

I didn’t get a word out before Stuart, who had his phone pressed to his ear, spoke up n a soft voice. “Ed. Listen to me. Try to calm down, your mum and dad are coming right up, and we’ll explain everything. There was an accident, and you’re in hospital, but you’re going to be okay.”

I was suddenly feeling VERY out of place; Ed needed his family to help him through this and I had no business being in the middle of it. I was more than ready to make myself scarce.

I spoke softly, trying to be polite before I eased myself out. “Ed, I’m not a nurse, I only work here and wanted to check everything is okay. Stuart is right, you’re in good hands. Try and take it easy, okay?” I smiled reassuringly at him, and then turned to face Stu. “Did you want me to find a doctor on my way out?”

“I think we’re alright, love.” He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you for checking in. John and Imogen should be along shortly, and we’ll talk to him- Oh, speaking of.” His eyes lifted over my shoulder and I whirled around to see yet another familiar face peering around the door.

“John – Hi!” I don’t think I could have felt more awkward if I’d tried. WHY had I come in here?? “I think I need to give you all some privacy; I’m going to head back and check on my most exciting paperwork. Just hit the call button if you need the doctor, okay?”

“…. Where do I know you from?”

It took me a moment. Ed was staring at me intently. His voice was hoarse, likely from the tube that had spent time down his throat, and he said it so quietly we’d almost missed it. Somewhere in the back reaches of my brain the thought slipped that his accent was lovely; I couldn’t help it. I pushed that thought away immediately- He couldn’t possibly remember my face from that night in the ICU?? He’d been so out of it, drugged, confused. He didn’t seem to remember anything from the night of the crash yet, and I didn’t want to get to get into any details that his family wasn’t ready for him to hear.

John gently sidestepped me without a word, a brief warm hand to my shoulder, and took a seat beside Ed’s bed. He squeezed his uninjured hand, and looked up at me, a small, indecipherable smile on his face before he turned back to Ed.

“Edward…my boy. You scared the HELL out of us.” His other hand briefly, softly, brushed his hair away from his swollen face. “How much do you remember?”

“I don’t…. Ah-!” I winced, seeing the flicker of pain that danced across his face; he’d tried to adjust his injured arm and obviously tweaked something. “I don’t remember much…. We finished the gig, hit the busses. I remember being so amped up- couldn’t sleep so I pulled out my guitar.” He looked over at Stuart, his brow furrowed and continued. “Something was wrong with the motor on the third bus, so you decided to take the couch on mine. I don’t…. I remember a loud noise?? Super fuckin’ bright lights…. Dad??” He locked eyes with John, confusion and panic emanating in waves. Stuart immediately moved to the side of the bed, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, worry lines prominent between his eyes and waited for John to continue.

John took a deep breath and looked Ed in the eyes while he figured out the best way to explain. “There was an accident, Edward, a bad one. An older gentleman, driving one of those massive lorries. He…” He paused and huffed a slow breath before he continued. “Ed, he fell asleep and smashed right into the bus. Did a damn good number on you too. Mum picked up the phone in the kitchen when the hospital called…Son, we’ve never been so terrified in all our lives. Thank the good lord though, you’re going to be alright.”

Ed blinked a few times, seemingly trying to absorb everything his dad had just told him. He slowly tilted his head and stared down at his casts and bandages, quietly, without a sound. He stiffly tried to move his injured hand, without much luck, and spoke softly without looking at any of us. “Guessin’ that’s why I can’t feel my hand.”

His dad was silent for moment, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the metal rail of the bed. “I won’t lie to you. You’ve had a number done on you. Your knee was popped out, they fixed that, and you’ve a broken leg, something with your hip and pelvis…. The doctor will explain more when he comes. Some smashed up ribs; one of which managed to puncture a hole in one of your lungs. Your shoulder and arm got smashed up too, and it looks as though your hand took the brunt of it. I don’t think they know yet how bad the nerve damage is or how it will heal- that’s why you’ve got those metal pins in your hand. Holds everything together while it heals. But….” He caught Ed’s eyes and made sure he had eye contact before he continued. “You’re not paralyzed. Your spine is one piece. No traumatic brain injury or swelling. Son, it could have been SO much worse. You just have to give yourself some time to come through this. Which you will, because no one, NO ONE, is more stubborn than you.”

“The driver.” Ed swallowed and his breath caught as he tried to inhale, starting a coughing fit that scared all of us. I quickly stepped out of the room, I remembered seeing a trolley with cups and water outside the supply room, and quickly poured one. I ran back in and nudged my way in between John and Stu, both of whom were panicking at Ed’s inability to catch his breath.

“Ed. Look at me.” He was panicking too, and I needed to calm him enough to sip some water. It was a dry cough, and probably just a product of tubes and being unconscious for days on end. “Hey. I have some water for you, right here. You ready?” I tilted the cup to his lips once he’d caught my eye and heard my words, and he eagerly sipped the cool liquid. Once he was finished, he tipped his head tipped back against the pillow while his breathing returned to normal. I felt his hand, his good one I assumed, warm and soft against mine, and he gently squeezed.

“Thank you.” His blue eyes found mine and he looked as though he was trying to place me, to sort who I was. His eyes…. they literally were the colour of the sea. So beautiful. I blinked and shook that off, what was wrong with me? He spoke again, never breaking his gaze. “What’s your name, Love?” His hand dropped away, falling to his chest. He had to have been exhausted.

“Oh- Leesie. Well, Annaliese, but Leesie will do.” I shook my head and smiled. Not awkward at all Annaliese. “I’m just a clerk here at the hospital…I usually work in the Emergency room. I was just dropping off some paperwork when I heard you. I guess I just wanted to make sure everything was alright…” I trailed off.

“Nah…. Something about you. I remember you and I don’t know why?” He closed his eyes and took a shallow breath. “It’s that fucked up cloud again…When I had that tube in my throat? I only remember bits, but…you were there. I remember your face?”

Holy shit. I hadn’t had a clue that his mom and dad had seen me that night, never mind that that Ed would have any memory of it. He was so heavily drugged and not even fully conscious, in pain, confused…. I swallowed, hoping that nobody was weirded out by all this.

“She was there in Intensive care, Ed.” It was Stuart that spoke up this time. “Before your mum and dad even got here. She was a wonderful, kind help in getting me to you….and then when you woke up. She was there when we weren’t.” He and John both shot grateful glances my way, and I was pretty sure I could feel every ounce of blood in my body fill my cheeks.

“You told me you wouldn’t go. I remember. You promised you weren’t going to go. I was fucking petrified, no idea where I was, machines yellin’, felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was choking on the bloody tube. But …I could feel you squeezing m’hand and I remember you smiling that smile at me, and you promised you wouldn’t leave and you didn’t.” I felt the warmth and solidity of his hand gently squeezing mine again, and I couldn’t help but squeeze back. His sea blue eyes locked on mine and his voice was soft.

“Thank you, Annaliese.”

TBC…..Xoxoxoxoxox

(Author’s Note: I really, REALLY hope this was worth the wait, and I’m SO sorry it took so long! I beg you all for any and all feedback/comments/Asks Anon and otherwise, because your feedback is LIFE! Thank you!!!!)

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