#if nothing else i'd like to thank my body & brain & whoever else is responsible for this

[imaginaryanon]

drowning my sorrows (watched the finale of a silly little comedy show)(how is this thing a comedy btw. genuinely. fucking hello??)

[pink-peony-princess]

Knight to Remember

"Remember when we met?" I murmured, picking at Shawn's scrubs as I lay on his chest. I hadn't been feeling well all day with my monthly cycle so when Shawn had come home he'd sweetly offered to order dinner in and have a movie night, despite having things he probably really needed to do.

"Mmhhh," he responded, hand playing with my hair, massaging my scalp, as he watched the film we'd put on. "I was your knight in shining armour." I could head the playful teasing behind it,but it was true, if he hadn't been there that night,I don't know what would have happened to me.

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

When I came to, I didn't know where I was, or how long I had been there. What I did know was that I was freezing, and in more pain than I had ever been before. I lay there for what must have been at least a few more minutes before finally building up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I found myself crumpled at the back of a dark stone alley, but I couldn't remember where exactly I was, or even how I had come to be there.

More than the pain that was now beginning to radiate from every part of my body- my legs, my chest, my head, even my eyes... how can my eyes be hurting? I wondered... I was concerned about the obvious gaps in my memory. Putting this thought aside I tried to take inventory of how bad my injuries were. I tried to wiggle my toes, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp shot of pain that ran straight up my leg, and into my lower back. At least I could feel my legs I thought, mentally sighing.

It was then that it began to rain, blood running from an unknown source into my mouth. I couldn't help but panic at the thought that there was a very real possibility that I may not be found. But how was I going to get someone, anyone for that matter to notice me?

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

Somewhere between the haze of the pain and cold my brain comprehended the fact that this person had just said 'doctor', something which I knew, even with my limited knowledge of medicine- most of which was thanks to Grey's Anatomy- was something I needed right now.

Before I could think, I found myself screaming out for help, granted it was less of a scream and more of a horse grunt, but it got their attention and the two men were soon kneeling beside me. One tall and brunette,with curls the other shorter, but more built with wavy blonde hair.

"Hi honey, my name is Shawn, the brunette one said, and this is Connor, we're doctors at the hospital, we're going to help you okay, but I need you to tell me where it hurts okay" he asked, gently resting a hand on my arm, pulling a bag off his shoulder which I had not noticed.

As Shawn was rummaging around in his bag, Connor, came over to take my hand. "Hi sweetheart, I'm just going to take your pulse, can you remember anything that happened? Where you are or even your name?" he questioned, before going quiet. "Pulse is fast, but irregular, I'm going to go call for an ambulance, and let the guys know we'll be needing their help. We need to get her warmed up too, she's freezing," he spoke, rubbing my arm, before standing and making a call. Probably calling whoever 'the guys' were.

"I'm just going to test a few things before we get you to hospital and I need you to tell me if anything is painful okay?" The man- Shawn asked with a soft smile. I went to nod, but he reached for my head, stopping the action. "Just keep nice and still for us, we don't know what damage you've done, and we don't want to make anything worse. How about thumbs up for yes and thumbs down for no?" he suggested. I went to nod again, but caught myself, and gave him thumbs up instead.

"Okay, so I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained, holding up what I recognised as a pen light from all the medical dramas I watched. "It might be a little bit uncomfortable, but it's important that we check this stuff out, so we know what we're working with," he finished, smiling sympathetically again, in the half light of the dim alley. "Just follow the light, but remember, don't move your head."

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"The guys said they'll be here in five minutes, and they've put in a trauma call for an eta of twenty minutes." I couldn't help but jump at the voice that was suddenly right next to me. "Sorry darling, didn't mean to startle you," Connor apologised, reaching for my hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

"While we're waiting we may as well do the rest of her vitals. Have you got the rest of your kit? Normally I leave mine in my locker, but I guess it was somewhat of a happy accident I took it with me," Connor smiled down at me, before grabbing a stethoscope out of a bag which I had not noticed he had either. "Before I check your airways, can you remember your name yet? How old you are?"

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Connor listening to my chest, and Shawn doing something down by my legs. "Her breathing is shallow and uneven, sounds to me like there could be a collapsed lung, but we won't know for sure until we get x-rays," Connor told Shawn, pulling the metal away from my body.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm all done." he reassured me, moving back to my head, and wiping away the tears that were beginning to soak my clothing with gloved hands. "Connor, she's got a compound fracture to the fibula on her left side. Grace if you had to rate your pain, one being nothing, and ten being unbearable what would you say?" he asked.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

"This is Grace, she's twenty, we found her here, she has no memory of what happened. She's got a slight concussion, with a suspected partially collapsed lung, compound fracture to the fibula- left leg and possible broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding as well, pain rating ten out of ten." Shawn recalled quickly.

"Hi Grace, my name's Brian," the man spoke appearing above my head. "And this guy here is Dave," he added, pointing to another person with tan skin, several tattoos and dark hair. "We're doctors at the hospital and we work with these two guys that you already know." As Brian explained, Dave got up, only to appear seconds later with a massive bag, and a board.

It was at this point that I was starting to become drowsy, which Shawn quickly noticed, tapping my face lightly to get a response. "Grace, we need you to stay awake okay, I know it's hard, but it's important you try. Dave has the spinal board so what we're going to do is splint this leg and then get you onto the board."

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Welcome back, we were starting to get worried there, we'll be about five minutes, and then hopefully we'll be able to get you slightly more comfortable." Shawn spoke from a seat at head of the bed I was laying on.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"On it," Brian spoke, from where he sat next to me. "Grace, I'm going to put an I.V. in okay, it'll just be a sharp scratch and then it's over,yeah?" he tried to appease me. I wasn't aware of it immediately, but I must have started to hyperventilate, because I found myself getting dizzy, and suddenly Connor was taking a mask off that one of them must have put on me while I was out.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

When we got to the hospital, I was metwith more bright lights, and lots of noise. No one ever tells you how loud a hospital emergency department is, and at that point in time, all I wanted to do was sleep!

After several random people, nurses I think had finished hooking me up to monitors, and had changed me into a gown- an embarrassing process in which I'm sure I managed to flash all four of the doctors, Connor insisted on getting x-rays and an MRI and CT scan, to look at the break in my leg. I hadn't seen it, but twenty minutes after the scans had come back declaring I had no life-threatening brain damage, Shawn came to inform me that it would indeed need surgery, which only caused more tears.

He was quick to assure me that he would be there throughout the whole process, something which I found mildly panic relieving, but it didn't change the fact that I was still having to go into surgery. Why was medicine so much less glamourous and fun in real life than on T.V? I wondered as he started attaching me to electrodes,"For an ECG," he explained when I looked at him questioningly from my stagnant position on the bed.

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dave asked, coming to stand next to the bed after Shawn and Connor had managed to get me back onto the normal bed, somehow doing so without causing me additional pain.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"So back to what we were saying before," Connor started. "Good news is, there's no signs of internal bleeding on any of the scans, but your leg on the other hand is a little more complicated, you'll probably need plates, and physio for sure."

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

"It really depends, on a couple of things. How bad it is, what your pain levels are like with the physio, and so on. But roughly, at least six months." He broke to me slowly, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes.

After that it was all a bit of a blur, the stress of the event finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up some time after the surgery, in a cast and traction, something which I was not happy with... especially when I realised that it meant that I would be relying on bed pans and sponge baths for the foreseeable future.

The coming days were easier, except for a particularly bad reaction to a pain killer Shawn gave me on the second night, which caused nasty bed spins, with vomiting thrown in. Luckily for me, he was a pro at dealing with things like this, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for a normal shift as an Intensive Care physician he reassured me, as my face burned in embarrassment when the nurse had to change my gown, due to sick getting on it. It was the absolute last thing I would have wanted to happen in front of someone like Shawn. When I'd first come in,I hadn't realised just how good looking he was, but oh my god, was he gorgeous, tall and muscular with curls that seemed to fall perfectly- a few resting on his forehead despite him constantly pushing them back. He was sweet too, always going out of his way to make sure I was okay, that I was as comfortable as I could be.

---

They pieced together when I was in surgery, that I had definitely been involved in a hit and run, something which they had concluded in my initial assessment unbeknownst to me when they found a series of tyre marks across my abdomen. They were sure to tell me just how lucky I was to get away with the injuries I did. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this, and so ended up doing some of both.

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

Eventually I could start rehabilitation, having to relearn how to use my leg, something which wasn't always easy, but they guys were always there to support me, and would supple a constant stream on bad jokes to keep my mind off the pain.

When it came to leaving day, as excited as I was I was also sad, I had formed bonds with these guys, especially Shawn, and they had literally given me my life back, something which I would also be grateful for. Little did I know that just over a year later I'd be laying on Shawn's chest as comfortable as could be, having been dating for a bit over nine months.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

A Knight to Remember

"Remember when we met?" I murmured, picking at Shawn's scrubs as I lay on his chest. I hadn't been feeling well all day with my monthly cycle so when Shawn had come home he'd sweetly offered to order dinner in and have a movie night, despite having things he probably really needed to do.

"Mmhhh," he responded, hand playing with my hair, massaging my scalp, as he watched the film we'd put on. "I was your knight in shining armour." I could head the playful teasing behind it,but it was true, if he hadn't been there that night,I don't know what would have happened to me.

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

When I came to, I didn't know where I was, or how long I had been there. What I did know was that I was freezing, and in more pain than I had ever been before. I lay there for what must have been at least a few more minutes before finally building up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I found myself crumpled at the back of a dark stone alley, but I couldn't remember where exactly I was, or even how I had come to be there.

More than the pain that was now beginning to radiate from every part of my body- my legs, my chest, my head, even my eyes... how can my eyes be hurting? I wondered... I was concerned about the obvious gaps in my memory. Putting this thought aside I tried to take inventory of how bad my injuries were. I tried to wiggle my toes, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp shot of pain that ran straight up my leg, and into my lower back. At least I could feel my legs I thought, mentally sighing.

It was then that it began to rain, blood running from an unknown source into my mouth. I couldn't help but panic at the thought that there was a very real possibility that I may not be found. But how was I going to get someone, anyone for that matter to notice me?

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

Somewhere between the haze of the pain and cold my brain comprehended the fact that this person had just said 'doctor', something which I knew, even with my limited knowledge of medicine- most of which was thanks to Grey's Anatomy- was something I needed right now.

Before I could think, I found myself screaming out for help, granted it was less of a scream and more of a horse grunt, but it got their attention and the two men were soon kneeling beside me. One tall and brunette,with curls the other shorter, but more built with wavy blonde hair.

"Hi honey, my name is Shawn, the brunette one said, and this is Connor, we're doctors at the hospital, we're going to help you okay, but I need you to tell me where it hurts okay" he asked, gently resting a hand on my arm, pulling a bag off his shoulder which I had not noticed.

As Shawn was rummaging around in his bag, Connor, came over to take my hand. "Hi sweetheart, I'm just going to take your pulse, can you remember anything that happened? Where you are or even your name?" he questioned, before going quiet. "Pulse is fast, but irregular, I'm going to go call for an ambulance, and let the guys know we'll be needing their help. We need to get her warmed up too, she's freezing," he spoke, rubbing my arm, before standing and making a call. Probably calling whoever 'the guys' were.

"I'm just going to test a few things before we get you to hospital and I need you to tell me if anything is painful okay?" The man- Shawn asked with a soft smile. I went to nod, but he reached for my head, stopping the action. "Just keep nice and still for us, we don't know what damage you've done, and we don't want to make anything worse. How about thumbs up for yes and thumbs down for no?" he suggested. I went to nod again, but caught myself, and gave him thumbs up instead.

"Okay, so I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained, holding up what I recognised as a pen light from all the medical dramas I watched. "It might be a little bit uncomfortable, but it's important that we check this stuff out, so we know what we're working with," he finished, smiling sympathetically again, in the half light of the dim alley. "Just follow the light, but remember, don't move your head."

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"The guys said they'll be here in five minutes, and they've put in a trauma call for an eta of twenty minutes." I couldn't help but jump at the voice that was suddenly right next to me. "Sorry darling, didn't mean to startle you," Connor apologised, reaching for my hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

"While we're waiting we may as well do the rest of her vitals. Have you got the rest of your kit? Normally I leave mine in my locker, but I guess it was somewhat of a happy accident I took it with me," Connor smiled down at me, before grabbing a stethoscope out of a bag which I had not noticed he had either. "Before I check your airways, can you remember your name yet? How old you are?"

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Connor listening to my chest, and Shawn doing something down by my legs. "Her breathing is shallow and uneven, sounds to me like there could be a collapsed lung, but we won't know for sure until we get x-rays," Connor told Shawn, pulling the metal away from my body.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm all done." he reassured me, moving back to my head, and wiping away the tears that were beginning to soak my clothing with gloved hands. "Connor, she's got a compound fracture to the fibula on her left side. Grace if you had to rate your pain, one being nothing, and ten being unbearable what would you say?" he asked.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

"This is Grace, she's twenty, we found her here, she has no memory of what happened. She's got a slight concussion, with a suspected partially collapsed lung, compound fracture to the fibula- left leg and possible broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding as well, pain rating ten out of ten." Shawn recalled quickly.

"Hi Grace, my name's Brian," the man spoke appearing above my head. "And this guy here is Dave," he added, pointing to another person with tan skin, several tattoos and dark hair. "We're doctors at the hospital and we work with these two guys that you already know." As Brian explained, Dave got up, only to appear seconds later with a massive bag, and a board.

It was at this point that I was starting to become drowsy, which Shawn quickly noticed, tapping my face lightly to get a response. "Grace, we need you to stay awake okay, I know it's hard, but it's important you try. Dave has the spinal board so what we're going to do is splint this leg and then get you onto the board."

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Welcome back, we were starting to get worried there, we'll be about five minutes, and then hopefully we'll be able to get you slightly more comfortable." Shawn spoke from a seat at head of the bed I was laying on.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"On it," Brian spoke, from where he sat next to me. "Grace, I'm going to put an I.V. in okay, it'll just be a sharp scratch and then it's over,yeah?" he tried to appease me. I wasn't aware of it immediately, but I must have started to hyperventilate, because I found myself getting dizzy, and suddenly Connor was taking a mask off that one of them must have put on me while I was out.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

When we got to the hospital, I was metwith more bright lights, and lots of noise. No one ever tells you how loud a hospital emergency department is, and at that point in time, all I wanted to do was sleep!

After several random people, nurses I think had finished hooking me up to monitors, and had changed me into a gown- an embarrassing process in which I'm sure I managed to flash all four of the doctors, Connor insisted on getting x-rays and an MRI and CT scan, to look at the break in my leg. I hadn't seen it, but twenty minutes after the scans had come back declaring I had no life-threatening brain damage, Shawn came to inform me that it would indeed need surgery, which only caused more tears.

He was quick to assure me that he would be there throughout the whole process, something which I found mildly panic relieving, but it didn't change the fact that I was still having to go into surgery. Why was medicine so much less glamourous and fun in real life than on T.V? I wondered as he started attaching me to electrodes,"For an ECG," he explained when I looked at him questioningly from my stagnant position on the bed.

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dave asked, coming to stand next to the bed after Shawn and Connor had managed to get me back onto the normal bed, somehow doing so without causing me additional pain.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"So back to what we were saying before," Connor started. "Good news is, there's no signs of internal bleeding on any of the scans, but your leg on the other hand is a little more complicated, you'll probably need plates, and physio for sure."

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

"It really depends, on a couple of things. How bad it is, what your pain levels are like with the physio, and so on. But roughly, at least six months." He broke to me slowly, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes.

After that it was all a bit of a blur, the stress of the event finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up some time after the surgery, in a cast and traction, something which I was not happy with... especially when I realised that it meant that I would be relying on bed pans and sponge baths for the foreseeable future.

The coming days were easier, except for a particularly bad reaction to a pain killer Shawn gave me on the second night, which caused nasty bed spins, with vomiting thrown in. Luckily for me, he was a pro at dealing with things like this, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for a normal shift as an Intensive Care physician he reassured me, as my face burned in embarrassment when the nurse had to change my gown, due to sick getting on it. It was the absolute last thing I would have wanted to happen in front of someone like Shawn. When I'd first come in,I hadn't realised just how good looking he was, but oh my god, was he gorgeous, tall and muscular with curls that seemed to fall perfectly- a few resting on his forehead despite him constantly pushing them back. He was sweet too, always going out of his way to make sure I was okay, that I was as comfortable as I could be.

---

They pieced together when I was in surgery, that I had definitely been involved in a hit and run, something which they had concluded in my initial assessment unbeknownst to me when they found a series of tyre marks across my abdomen. They were sure to tell me just how lucky I was to get away with the injuries I did. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this, and so ended up doing some of both.

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

Eventually I could start rehabilitation, having to relearn how to use my leg, something which wasn't always easy, but they guys were always there to support me, and would supple a constant stream on bad jokes to keep my mind off the pain.

When it came to leaving day, as excited as I was I was also sad, I had formed bonds with these guys, especially Shawn, and they had literally given me my life back, something which I would also be grateful for. Little did I know that just over a year later I'd be laying on Shawn's chest as comfortable as could be, having been dating for a bit over nine months.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

[azfellandco]

Hey there, so your reply to my comment on the vampire AU, about Aziraphale and consumption and such, has been rattling around in my head since I read it, and I was hoping, if you have the time/energy/desire of course, to pick your brains about what kinds of meta/headcanons you've got? Because Aziraphale and food and softness and subversion give me LIFE and I have some thoughts of my own but I'd love to hear yours :D

I would love to talk about this some more, hell yeah. Thank you so much. Please do also tell me your headcanons, @dwarven-beard-spores, I definitely want to hear them. Here is the AU in question for anyone else who might be interested.

Anyway I’m going to have to put this under a read-more because this has become like… thesis level long. My apologies to anyone on mobile. 

The thing I love about this book in general is that there’s such a rich vein of history of thought to explore baked into the premise. Angels and demons and god and the devil and satanic nuns and witches and the four horsemen and the antichrist and the Book of Revelation’s “capital A for Apocalypse” exist in this universe and because so much of it is played for humorous effect there’s a lot of wiggle room as to how these things actually interact with their real world theological equivalents. Which is all building up to say: I am absolutely fascinated with the dichotomy in popular conception between angels as good/holy and angels as monstrous, and how to a lot of people that really isn’t a dichotomy at all. 

Here are some quotes I think about in conjunction with Aziraphale a lot. 

“Did you ever notice how in the Bible, whenever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?“  –The Prophecy

“Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the hierarchyof angels? and even if one of thempressed me against his heart: I would be consumedin that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothingbut the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure,and we are so awed because it serenely disdainsto annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.” –Rainer Maria Rilke

Every angel is terrifying. What? Whomst? Aziraphale, light of my life, in love with a demon who thinks bullet-hole window transfers and expensive divers’ watches are cool, calls said demon “my dear”, is terrifying? Excuse me? 

I am utterly in love with the idea of Aziraphale as this potential force of nature, with the righteous fury and the wings and the sword and wait. What did Aziraphale do with that sword? He gave it away to the humans that got kicked out of paradise, because they looked cold. 

The first thing Aziraphale does in the whole book is a renouncement of this particular idea of angels, and we see him sort of… butt up against it later, when he talks to the Metatron. Aziraphale doesn’t want the world to end, of course he doesn’t, but I just have… so many feelings about the way Aziraphale talks about the war versus the way the Metatron talks about the war. 

The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it. –the Metatron, pg. 242

The Metatron is the kind of angel above, blood and fury, and Aziraphale’s voice goes “flat and hopeless” in the face of it, “the bitterness in his voice would have soured milk”. Aziraphale doesn’t want this war to happen, and the way all his thoughts and feelings are tagged versus the sort of netural, descriptionless way the Metatron’s are (pretty much the only characterization the Metatron gets is “a well-educated voice” and “a shade testily”, the latter of which is in response to Aziraphale saying he has to delay returning to Heaven) has always struck me as like… the difference between Aziraphale and other angels is that Aziraphale cares so much. We talk a lot in this fandom about Crowley and “the truth was that Crowley rather liked humans. It was a major failing in a demon” but Aziraphale is the same, he’s just… subtler. 

Where the heck was I going with this. I’m so fond. 

Ah yes. Aziraphale is different from other angels because he cares, because he wants. I wrote a fic about this, too, actually. So it’s sort of interesting to me that it’s in the things Aziraphale wants that he is most an ”every angel is terrifying” angel, even though in some cases it’s a muted and complex kind of thing, a lot of which has been helped along for my by popular fandom and my love of gothic lit and isn’t necessarily comping from the book anymore, everything from here on out is my headcanons.

The most obvious example of Aziraphale’s desires being the most monstrous thing about him comes from that same conversation with the Metatron. I’m sure everybody here is aware of the good old “Aziraphale was willing to kill a child so he could stay on earth and keep eating sushi” post which, while reductive, is essentially what I’m getting at here. Aziraphale calls the Metatron with the specific intent of the Metatron killing Adam and stopping the ball rolling because he likes the world and he likes living there and I really do think, when it comes down to it, that’s a purely selfish decision on Aziraphale’s part. Crowley knows that the things about the world that will get Aziraphale on his side near the start of the book are all things Aziraphale likes. 

“No more compact discs… no salt, no eggs. No gravlax with dill sauce. No more fascinating little restaurants where they know you. No Daily Telegraph crosswords. No small antique shops. No book shops either. No interesting first editions. No–” Crowley scraped the bottom of Aziraphale’s barrel of interests, “regency silver snuffboxes.” –pg. 46

It’s all well and good to like people and want to help them and want to save them, but in the end, for a certain kind of person (the kind of person I see Aziraphale as), you have to make it personal. And people, as I’m sure everyone is aware, will do truly awful things in the name of protecting what is personal to them. 

I don’t know where to put this observation so it’s going here. That one line that’s like “Six millennia exposure to humans was having the same effect on Aziraphale as it was on Crowley, only in the opposite direction”? I’ve generally seen this taken to mean “six millennia had made them both more human-like by making Crowley less evil and Aziraphale less good” but personally I’ve always taken it to mean that exposure to humans has made Crowley like humans more and Aziraphale like humans less. My angel is antisocial and likes people in a general sense only, because it’s important to his self-image to love all of God’s creation or whatever.

On that slightly ominous note let’s move on to the point about consumption. There’s a sentiment in some feminist literature about desire, and sexual desire, and hunger, and how they overlap that is relevant here but I cannot find the exact quote I am thinking of so these will have to do. 

For a woman who has learned to make herself physically and emotionally small, to live literally and figuratively on scraps, admitting that you have an appetite is a source of cavernous fear. Women are often on a diet of the body, but we are always on a diet of the heart. The low-maintenance woman, the ideal woman, has no appetite. This is not to say that she refuses food, sex, romance, emotional effort; to refuse is petulant, which is ironically more demanding. The woman without appetite politely finishes what’s on her plate, and declines seconds. She is satisfied and satisfiable. –Hunger Makes Me by Jess Zimmerman (if the contents of this meta i’m writing interest you then I suggest you read this article as well)

Please also see this “a softer world” fancomic which is a remix of the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe– “And we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.”

To want is to hunger and to hunger is to want and it’s extremely important to me that Aziraphale’s particular temptation, and one Crowley knows full well, is lunch. Wanting as selfishness, as monstrousness, is… how you say… my entire shit. The subgenre of gothic horror that is about women who want and the way this makes them feel, as though they’re destructive and dark and dangerous, is pretty much the reason I am the person I am today. Crimson Peak, Shirley Jackson’s work but especially The Haunting of Hill House (speaking of which i am going to personally eviscerate whoever approved that netflix series, how dare they), to some extent Karen Navidson’s story in House Of Leaves, probably lots of others but those are the main ones that come to mind. They’re all about women who want, and feel they shouldn’t, and how that disconnect makes them othered from themselves and the world around them. 

I’ve always seen some overlap between this and the concept of queering the villain, because historically the idea of sexual desire has been made to look monstrous by bigots and assholes and that absolutely has not stopped us from grabbing these characters and archetypes and saying “mine now”. I’m never going to stop loving queer-coded villains as long as I live, because if society wants us to be evil we will damn well show them evil. 

But of course, wanting isn’t actually evil. It’s just human. Aziraphale is not especially selfish, for a human, even when that selfishness manifests as disregard for his companion’s feelings or stubbornness about the big picture (”That only works, right, if you start everyone off equal… that’s the good bit. The lower you start the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, that’s lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable.”) it’s still just… human. People have a notoriously hard time caring about suffering beyond themselves, it’s why we invented morality. Wanting has no moral value, not really, just as hunger doesn’t. 

But I can’t help but think that, if Aziraphale agrees with this assessment, it’s taken him thousands of years and certainly until after the apocalypse to arrive there. Aziraphale wants to be good, and he wants his side to be “the good side”, so much so that he’s deluded himself for ages into thinking he doesn’t care about or consider the validity of the stuff Crowley says and believes. There is no textual evidence to support the statement “Aziraphale feels guilty for wanting things and part of the reason he’s so attached to Crowley is that Crowley makes him feel less guilty”, but there it is. 

Aziraphale wants, and other angels don’t, or at least, Aziraphale wants in a very concrete and specific sense that other angels don’t seem to–food, wine, books, snuffboxes, Crowley– in short, to be in the world and experience. Aziraphale wants sensual things, pretty things. Comfortable things. Aziraphale is such a soft and homey character despite all these little apparent sharp points, and I adore that about him. 

Let me quote my own fic for a moment, the vampire fic that prompted this ask in the first place.

Everything about Aziraphale said “soft” to Crowley, it was something he’d always rather liked about his friend. Soft curls framing his round face, gentle hands, warm and unfashionable clothes covering his pudgy middle. There was absolutely nothing about Aziraphale that looked even slightly predatory, and Crowley had never been able to determine if this was intentional camouflage or just the way Aziraphale was [footnote: it was both]. 

Aziraphale is selfish and petty and can be inconsiderate and obtuse, but he gave away the thing that identified him as an angel because some humans were suffering and needed it. He loves wine, and books, and he’s fat goddammit, because of course he is. He’s nonthreatening because he’s chosen to be. He’s human because he’s chosen to be, just as Crowley is. It just took him longer to realize that’s what he’d done. He’s got the potential, by virtue of being an angel, to be this incredibly powerful and dangerous thing, and instead he owns a bookshop and feeds the ducks and goes to lunch with his friend. 

I’m sure I’ll think of like ten additional things I want to say about this after I post it lmao prepare yourself for that, I guess. 

[chasholidays]

Thanks for taking holiday prompts again this year! My prompt: I would love to see some version of a Monty/Miller romcom a la Four Weddings and Funeral. Any background pairings are fine, though I'd love to see Bellarke in there somewhere.

this is really only related to four weddings and a funeral because it takes place at weddings, hope that’s cool!

one. Octavia & Lincoln

Nate can admit that Octavia Blake’s wedding is something of a wake-up call for him. Or, if not a wake up, exactly, at least a good reason to reassess his life. A happy occasion with an edge of panic, because his best friend’s little sister is getting married, and he hasn’t had a serious relationship since he and Bryan broke up. It doesn’t bother him, most of the time, but it’s impossible to avoid the thoughts in circumstances like this. He remembers when Octavia was a half-wild girl tagging along behind him and Bellamy, and now she’s in a serious enough relationship that she’s marrying someone. Nate still feels like he’s too irresponsible to own a dog, let alone commit himself for the rest of his life to another human being.

At least Bellamy is, one, older than he is and, two, currently trying to hide behind him. So he’s not the least competent person in the room.

“I can’t believe she came,” he says, not actually glaring at Clarke, but spiritually glaring at her. Glaring at her as much as he can without actually looking at her.

“Yeah, fuck her, coming to a wedding she was invited to.”

“It’s my sister’s wedding. She knew I was going to be here.”

“She’s friends with Lincoln, I assume he wanted her here. And you know your sister still wants you guys to get back together.”

Octavia isn’t the only one rooting for Bellamy and Clarke, of course; they broke up because Clarke was leaving town for a fellowship, but she’ll be back in a month or two, and Bellamy still isn’t over her, and judging from the careful, furtive way Clarke is scanning the reception hall, Nate is pretty sure she’s not over him either.

“My sister’s got wedding brain. She wants everyone to get together.”

“Yeah, that’s awful. How dare she.”

“Shut up. You think we can go to the drinks table?”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to stop us. But if there’s one place Clarke is likely to be, it’s with the alcohol. You can’t avoid her forever,” he adds.

“I don’t have to avoid her forever, I just have to avoid her tonight.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Nate. “Whatever. I’m going to get a drink. And if I see your ex-girlfriend, I’m going to say hi and tell her where you are. Because this is ridiculous.”

“You’re a traitor.”

“You’re afraid if you talk to Clarke you’re going to sleep with her.”

Bellamy opens and closes his mouth, and then says, “I’m afraid if I talk to her, she’s not going to want to sleep with me. Or just want to sleep with me. Fuck, she’ll be back here soon. What if she comes back and she doesn’t–”

It’s a logical concern, for certain values of logical. If Bellamy never talks to her, she can’t tell him she’s not interested. But if she thinks he doesn’t want to see her, that’s not actually going to help.

“Only one way to find out,” he says, and Bellamy snorts.

“Yeah. That really helps.”

Clarke spots him and lights up, which is all the evidence Nate needs. He claps Bellamy on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I need booze.”

He doesn’t let himself look back, so when someone comes up next to him at the bar and says, “So, are you Miller?” he’s completely unprepared and nearly spills his drink on himself.

The guy is hot, with short, straight black hair and a slightly nervous smile, apparently a little uncomfortable in formal wear. Nate’s got a pretty good geek-dar, and whoever this is is pinging it hard.

Then the actual statement catches up and he blinks. “Uh, yeah. I’m Miller. Nathan Miller.”

“Awesome, I’m Monty, Clarke’s plus one. She told me you were her ex’s best friend and I was going to try to distract you for her, but I assume that’s him she’s talking to now?”

Nate lets himself glance over, finds Bellamy easily, his smile warm and soft, the expression he only ever wears for Clarke and his sister.

“That’s him, yeah.”

“Cool.” Monty drains his drink and offers Nate a smile, somewhere between nervous and flirty. “Can I distract you anyway?”

Nate smiles back. Maybe the best way to deal with his low key wedding crisis isn’t a one-night stand, but there are definitely worse ways to deal. “You already are. But you should keep doing it.”

two. Monroe & Harper

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Nate was coming!”

Clarke frowns. “Honestly, I thought you knew. Aren’t you guys still together?”

“We’re not together,” says Monty, trying not to sound too petulant. “We’re just–fucking. Sometimes. When he texts me. Gah,” he adds, rubbing his face. “How did this happen? I try to be cool and hook up and I just–suck at it.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” she teases. “Since you’re still hooking up with him.”

“Shut up.”

Apparently he’s convincingly petulant, because Clarke sobers. “I thought you’d know, but even if you didn’t, I thought you’d be, well–happy. You guys seem great together. We can all hang out, it’ll be fun.”

Monty’s glad Clarke and her ex worked everything else, and he does like Bellamy. But even with the two of them around, it’s hard to believe that his ex-girlfriend’s wedding is going to be improved with the inclusion of the guy he’s currently having occasional casual sex with.

But he doesn’t want to keep having that conversation, so he switches tactics. “Okay, but why are Bellamy and Miller coming to this? How do we all know the same people?”

“Bellamy’s my plus one,” she says. “Miller and Monroe went to college together, I think. And I don’t know how we know all the same people, but I assume that was part of why you wanted to move here in the first place. You knew people.”

“I didn’t want to know them all, together, at a wedding.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clarke grants. “But it’s not all bad, right? There’s still an open bar.”

Monty has to grin. “There is still an open bar.”

And, okay, Clarke’s right, it’s not terrible. Harper and Monroe are cute and everyone’s having a good time, and Nate looks really hot in formal wear. And Monty does like Nate. That’s part of why he wishes they weren’t just having casual sex. He thinks Nate could be a great boyfriend.

But in the meantime, they dance, and make out, and go home together, and when Nate rolls over and tells Monty he might as well stay the night, it’s not be perfect, but he’ll take it for now.

three. Bryan & Michael

“So, what am I doing, exactly? What’s my angle?”

Nate glances at Monty in the passenger seat, can’t help a smile. He looks so fucking focused. He’s dedicated to this. “Angle?”

“As your date, what am I doing? Do you want your ex to be, like, jealous? Wishing he hadn’t let you get away? Or do you just want to show off how much you’ve moved on?”

This is the problem with not just being upfront about what he wants. Nate could have just asked Monty to the wedding, as a normal date, because he wanted his company. Which he does. But it felt so–weighty. So he chickened out, added the rambling “it’s my ex’s wedding and I don’t want to be alone and pathetic and he knows Bellamy so I can’t bring him” explanation to the end of the invitation, making it sound less like he wanted to go with Monty and more like he wanted a warm body.

He’s bad at this. It’s not a new thing.

“You don’t have to do anything special,” he says. “Just be yourself.”

“Is this the last guy you dated?”

“Yeah, but it’s been a while.” He does the math quickly. “We’d already been broken up for like a year and a half when I met you. He and Michael have been together for almost that long.”

“So he’s marrying his rebound guy and you didn’t even have one,” Monty surmises. “Is this, like—did you want the wedding invitation, or is he rubbing it in your face? Do we like him?”

Nate has to laugh. “Dude, I dated him. Of course I like him. And I’m happy for him.”

“Yeah, but unofficially.”

“Unofficially, it’s a little weird. But the breakup was amicable. I wanted to bring you,” he adds, finally. “I like hanging out with you. I thought I’d have more fun if you were here.”

“Oh,” says Monty, surprised but apparently pleased. “So you really do just want me to be myself?”

“If I wanted to come with anyone else, I would have asked them. I’m, uh—I’m not good at this,” he admits, as he parks the car.

Monty thinks it over for a second. “So, is this a date?”

“I hope so.”

“Cool, I hope so too.” He leans over and kisses Nate, soft and quick, and most of the tension in Nate’s chest uncoils itself. “I’m still going to be an awesome date, don’t worry.”

“Obviously,” he says, and when he gets to introduce Monty as his boyfriend?

Best wedding ever.

four. Bellamy & Clarke

Monty will admit that he hasn’t actually been that excited about any of the weddings he’s gone to recently, at least not as weddings. Harper’s was nice, but it was complicated by being his (admittedly distant) ex and the way he didn’t really know Monroe at all. He was happy for them, but in a kind of intellectual way. And Bryan and Michael’s wedding was fun, but for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with them and everything to do with his being on his first date. With his boyfriend.

Clarke and Bellamy’s wedding is nothing but awesome, though. Two of his favorite people are getting married, his boyfriend is the best man, and he has absolutely no responsibilities in the wedding party, so he doesn’t have to worry about anything except having a good time.

And, okay, providing backup as needed. He’s still running around doing whatever needs doing, but he’ll get to just watch the ceremony, and then they’ll all be getting drunk and dancing and celebrating.

That’s what weddings are supposed to be: the purest form of joy, directed at people you love.

It helps that the whole thing is fairly lowkey. Bellamy and Clarke have small families, and neither of them is religious or has much by way of family traditions. Clarke’s stepfather performs the ceremony, a quick introduction, a few readings, the vows, and then a kiss. It’s over in about fifteen minutes, all told, and then there are pictures and mingling and a reception.

Nate comes to find him when the pictures are done, leaning down for a kiss. “You didn’t want to be in pictures, huh?”

“I saw Lincoln with his camera, I think I’m going to be in pictures whether I like it or not. But, yeah, I can skip official posed stuff. You know what my face does when I try to smile on purpose.”

He laughs. “I do. We still would have liked to have you.”

“I know. It was a personal choice, not sacrificing myself for the greater good. That’s not really my thing. More Clarke and Bellamy.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.” He takes Monty’s flute of champagne and takes a sip. “Octavia asked if we were next.”

“That’s always such a weird question to me. Like, next by what measurement? If it was just you and her and Bellamy and Clarke, you’re kind of next by default, unless someone else gets divorced. No one else can be next. But other people are going to get married before we do, like, in the world.”

“You’ve put way too much thought into this,” Nate says, fond.

“Story of my life. I think about things.” He wets his lips, finds himself unaccountably nervous. Nate brought it up, and he’s not nervous. This is okay. “Do you want us to be next?”

“I don’t know about next. I’m not in a hurry. But I want us to be someday.”

His smile feels like a warm thing growing on his face, something a little foreign, but still welcome. “Yeah,” he says. “Someday is what I want too.”

five. Nate and Monty

Someday is about five years after the first time they met, when the wedding does happen. Not exactly five years, because having the same anniversary as Lincoln and Octavia would be awkward. But five years, give or take.

By the time it’s happening, Nate gets it. He’s grown up, he’s in love, and he’s more than ready.

By the time it’s happening, he can’t wait, actually.

It’s so easy, when he’s sure.