#say bye-bye appendix

[rebouks]

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[maggieandsturn]

𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘗𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘓 — 𝚖. 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘

✎summary: matt visits the reader in the hospital

✎warnings, notes: hospital setting, implied surgery, mentions breaking a bone + appendectomy/appendicitis, mention colostomy bag

"Matthew, I'm fine, swear on my life," You sigh, fiddling with the thin hospital blanket covering your lower body. Your cracked phone is sitting on your lap, displaying Matt's profile picture while you’re on a call together.

"Babe, you’re in the hospital, no one who's "fine" goes to the hospital," He grumbles. "Okay, I'm almost there. I’m going to hang up now."

"Okay, bye. Love you."

"I love you, too."

You scan your barren hospital room. About two hours ago, you rode your bike to the hospital after feeling debilitating cramps. Looking back, the ambulance fee (a/n: 'murica🇺🇸🫡) might have been worth it, because right before getting to the emergency room a particularly bad cramp hit you, and you lost your balance and fell off your bike, fracturing your wrist.

You ended up being diagnosed with appendicitis, getting your appendix taken out, and a splint on your right wrist (a/n: say that ten times fast lol) in the same hospital trip. Once you received your phone, which was damaged in the bike crash, you immediately called your boyfriend.

All of a sudden, your door bursts open, and your brunet boy runs toward you. You could tell he wanted to jump on your bed and hug you and give you a million kisses all over your face, but he was holding back in shock at your fragile state.

"Matt, c'mere," You smile, opening your arms, letting him know you’re okay. He leans over your bed and kisses your splint before burying his face in your neck. "Hey, It's okay, bud. I'm okay."

He pulls away, covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, I know. I just... I don’t know. It's scary." He admits, taking a fingernail in his mouth.

You grab his arm to stop him. "Hey, none of that," you smile. Matt hesitantly pulls a chair beside your bed, rubbing his thumb against the back of your left hand. "What are your brothers doing?"

He shrugs. "Watching TV, I think? I kind of left in a rush," he chuckles nervously. "How are you?"

"Good, like I told you," you tease him. "Although, I think this place is haunted." You whisper, making him crack a smile. "Every so often, the stench of a colostomy bag wafts by my room. I think it's the ghost of an old man named... Matteo."

That gets a chuckle out of Matt. "Wow, not even trying to be subtle. I don’t believe any old man is named Matteo, it's a pretty modern name, you know."

"You’re right, I think his name was actually... Mortimer!"

Matt shakes his head as he lets out a full laugh. "Mortimer? What, is he from the 17th century?"

You shrug, smiling. "Maybe. You'll have to tell me if the colostomy bag smells like potatoes or Papa John's."

✎a/n: sorry for the abrupt or odd ending, not really sure what else to add. thanks for reading!!

[tutuandscoot]

The one time this arena blessed us was VM’s 1st world championship win feat. their exquisite Golden Waltz 😌

The only thing ice dance events this GPF did were remind me of this, also in Torino but 16 years ago

[traveler-at-heart]

Hi 🥰

🐾

Thank you for the prompt!

High on love

“Landing in 5 minutes” Clint announced as he checked over the screen.

“Thank God” Natasha muttered. It’s been almost six weeks since the mission started and she’s eager to see you.

“Are you going to see your girl?”

“She’s not my girl”

“Yet”

As soon as they landed, Fury walked up to them.

“Let’s debrief now”

“Oh, Fury… I actually have to get to the medbay” Natasha began to limp. Clint hid a smile as she pretended to be in pain.

“You once stayed at a meeting while stitching yourself up” the man reminded her, unimpressed.

“What can I say, not all of us are super soldiers. We’re getting old, right, Barton?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and limped away, as Clint and Fury watched her committ to the lie.

“She’s going to see that chick doctor, isn’t she”

“Yeap”

—

“Agent Romanoff, how can we help you?” A nurse greeted as soon as Natasha walked in. She’s no longer pretending to limp but she figures there might be another way to get your attention.

“Just reporting after a mission for a general check up. Doctor Y/L/N is usually in charge”

“Oh, she’s getting prepped for surgery”

Well, damn. As head of the department, you were usually in and out of the OR at any given hour.

“I’ll come back when she’s out then”

“Yeah, it’s gonna take a while for her to wake up from the anesthesia”

“Wait, what? I thought you meant she was performing surgery, not being the one…”

“Well, she was feeling sick this morning and after running some tests we found her appendix was the issue” Natasha stared at the woman and she could immediately telll the spy was worried. “It’s a very simple procedure. They’re starting in ten minutes. Would you like to see her?”

Natasha nodded and walked behind the nurse to one of the patient rooms.

“She’s heavily sedated so… uh… yeah” the nurse warned before knocking.

“Come iiiiin. Oh my God, is this a dream? Natty!! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you” you smiled and raised a hand, hoping Natasha would take it.

She blushed at the nickname. So far, all she had heard you call her was Agent Romanoff and a very stern “Natasha” when she insisted on going on a mission with broken ribs.

“How was your mission, darling?” you sighed and she chuckled. “My God, you have the loveliest smile”

“The mission went great. I came here to see you but it seems like you’ll need me to take care of you for a change”

“I hate needles, Natty. And I’ll have a scar. Bye bye bikinis” you pouted, lifting your hospital gown to show your still intact skin.

“Let’s not…” she pulled it down just in time for the nurse to open the door and take you to the OR.

“Natty, walk with me” you pleaded as you were wheeled away. “If I die…”

“You’re not gonna die, Y/N”

“But if I do… I just want you to know that I think you’re beautiful and smell really, really nice and anyone would be lucky to have you. And do you like Italian food because I can make an amazing lasagna and then we’ll make out in my couch”

“Oh my God” the intern walking next to your bed was desperately trying to make it stop. He knew how much you’d regret saying all of that to Natasha, in front of several staff members.

“Please rush Doctor Y/L/N to OR 1. This is as far as you can go, Agent”

“She’s gonna be ok, right?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as she’s out of surgery, if you’d like”

“Yes, please”

He nodded once again, following your bed as you waved and screamed.

“Byeee, Natty”

—

Natasha stared at her empty cup of coffee, still wondering what she should do with the things you’d said.

Considering how many drugs were on your system, it could all be meaningless.

Should she act on it?

“Agent Romanoff” the intern stood before her, trying to appear casual. The truth was, most of the Medbay’s staff was scared of her. “She’s back in her room, we’re just waiting for her to wake up. It could take a while”

“But everything went ok? She’s gonna be fine?”

“Yes. She just needs bedrest for at least two weeks. Which I suspect she won’t like”

Natasha chuckled and followed him back to your room. You were sleeping peacefully, your vitals stable.

Still, Natasha disliked the sight of you in a hospital bed.

“You can tell nurse Richards to page me once she wakes up. A-assuming you’ll wait here for her…”

“I will, thank you”

He nodded once again and closed the door behind him. Natasha approached your side and placed a small strand of hair behind your ear.

Aside from some physical exams, she’d never been so close to you. Free to examine your face, she noticed a small scar right above your left eyebrow, a birth mark near your right cheek….   

She could stare at you forever, and she almost did, dragging a chair to sit next to your bed.

An hour and a half later, your eyes struggled to open.

“Mmm”

“Hey, I’m here, Y/N. You’re ok.” the redhead took your hand, her thumb drawing soothing circles.

“Nat?”

“Hi, detka. How are you feeling?”

“Like a bus ran me over several times. But it’s good to see you” you admitted with a smile. You weren’t as forward as before, probably because the anesthesia was wearing off.

“Right back at you” she smiled softly.

“I had the weirdest dream while I was all high” you chuckled. “That you were here and I practically flashed you in my hospital gown and then asked you out in the least romantic way possible…”

Natasha looked to the ceiling, trying to hide her blush.

“Natasha, that was a dream, right? RIGHT?”

“Uhmmm…”

“OH MY GOD”

“What’s wrong?” the intern walked in at that moment. “I told you to page me when she woke up” he scolded Natasha but one glare from the redhead and he was back to being scared. “Your heart rate is way up right now”

“Yeah, that’s nothing medical, trust me” you answered, mortified. The intern looked between the two of you and nodded.

“Right. I think we can discharge you tomorrow, Chief”

“Thanks, George”

He nodded and left you alone again, in the middle of a very awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“Go out with me” Natasha said as you spoke.

“What?” you smiled, and she squeezed your hand.

“Would you go on a date with me?” she said and you nodded.

“Lasagna at my place” you offered, trying to  raise yourself from the bed. “Ouch”

“For now, let’s stick to take out”

“Deal”

[ughhhdavid]

TED WAS SO FUCKING OUT OF CHARACTER THIS EPISODE.

First with the not saying anything to Rebecca in that emotional scene. Ted you have not stopped talking since meeting her and suddenly you have nothing to say??? She's baring her soul to you and you have nothing? No explanation for what you're leaving? This isn't the Ted I know. This isn't the Ted that supposedly got unstuck. This isn't the fluid, free, Ted. Rebecca is giving you a solution to everything and you wanna leave and you can't give a reason? Your son can live here and you can keep everything you ever wanted and you say no and don't even have the courtesy of giving an explanation?

"The laugh police" Ted wtf are you doing. This man who would follow you to the ends of the earth, who is writing a book about how much he loves you, who you endearingly called "our dork" a few episodes back is so excited to see what you think and you shoot him down? He loves you so much Ted and he is begging for crumbs, for anything, just to see you laugh and you make fun of him? And you, who hopes your paths cross away soon, who keeps the door open for parent teacher conferences, who checks him out and cares about what he loves and suddenly you don't care that what he loves is you?? You're telling him that it was never about you???

Beard shows up with a shredded passport and you say nothing? Your best friend is being abused, Ted! Beard sits down next to you on the plane and says he feels like he abandons you and looks at you with those begging eyes. And you let him go? The flight attendant gives you the opportunity to GET OFF THE PLANE. And make everything right and you dont? You even get called out on it!!!! Ted your best friend is in crisis. And you take it as a joke??? His appendix is not bursting but his heart is being stomped on and dragged in the town square for everyone to ridicule!!! Get off the plane and help him!!!! And you don't even show up to the wedding???? If not to object, but to support him at least????

Let's not forget that everyone was cheering and going crazy after the team's performance and you barely said anything. No tears, no weeping, no hugging????? You were so excited and invested in the Bye Bye Bye performance but this doesn't even warrant more of a reaction?

This is just NOT TED. Ted has had his low moments, sure. But this is on another level. Everybody in begging Ted. Everyone is full of love for YOU!!! BECAUSE OF YOU!!! AND THEY ARE BEGGING YOU TO LET THEM GIVE IT TO YOU. AND YOU SHOOT THEM DOWN? These people were your HOME for 3 years Ted!!!! And they are asking for anything, they're desperate, they'll do anything for you. And you're treating them with such insane levels of coldness. It's cruel.

[ohtobeleah]

God all I can think of is Dot waking up from surgery and asking where her Tooster is because he said he'd be there

🥺 Little Dot waking up in a big hospital bed all groggy and sore from having her appendix removed and the first thing she says after realising you’re with her is “Where’s Tooster?”

“He had to go home sweetheart—“ Jakes explaining from the other side of the bed. “But he’s coming back, he always come back.” And you know Jakes not taking to your daughter, he’s talking to you.

When you try to call Bradley to update him he just watches his phone ring on the kitchen counter, he’s doing exactly what he said he’d go home to do, clean up the mess. He watched his phone ring and ring until it stops and your name disappears, all for it to reappear again in five seconds.

“Hey—“ Is all he says when he inevitably answers the second call. “How’s Dot?”

“Thanks to you she’s alright, the doctors said if she hadn’t been brought in when she was it could have ruptured and caused a lot more damage.” Silence follows, Bradley doesn’t know what to say, neither do you. “I’m—“

“I’m sorry I forgot to call alright?” Bradley swallows his pride, every bit of it.

“I’m sorry I said Odettes not your—“ Before you can say it Bradley beats you to the punchline, he’s still hurt.

“She’s not, you’re right, she’s not my daughter but I’m what’s she’s got so—” Is all he says. “I gotta go, let me know when you’re planning on coming home.”

“Oh, okay yeah I’ll message you?”

“Yeah, do that, Bye.” There’s no I love you like their usually is before the call ends. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you whisper out a small I love you knowing Bradley can’t hear it because he already hung up the phone.

It’s happening again, isn’t it. This is always how it starts. The cold shoulder, the arguments. Oh god it’s happening again isn’t it?

“He’s just blowing off some steam Fe, Roosters a big boy he can take care of himself.” Jake offers his shoulder as you sit by your daughter’s hospital bed, she’s sleeping, exhausted from the events that led her here. “He’s not going anywhere, he loves the two of you so much.”

“I’m definitely not going anywhere.” Bradley coos from the doorway, he’s in his sweat pants and sweat shirt and has a bag over his shoulder. “The house was too quiet.” He explains as he tentatively takes a few steps into the room. “Thought I might come hang with my girls?”

And you just nod through tears that fall freely, everything is still so raw. The last thing you needed was your daughter to be sick.

“Thanks for coming back.” Is all you say as Jake steps aside to leave you and Rooster alone. He watches as you settle yourself into Bradley’s lap and hold onto him for dear life. He holds you back, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ll never ever leave you.” He whisperers. “Ever.”

[faela444]

im out of surgery now woo <3

bros i have a date tmr🤭🤭

[leclerced]

Some angst since today was the last day of the '23 season

Bunny being sick and not telling anyone, and I mean no one not even Sebastian. Bunny acting like everything is okay, Carlos, Charles, Max and Lando who are the major major doms of the group notice something is off.

But they totally notice when Bunny dodges Oscar kiss and that raises the alarm bells for everyone. "No, no I'm okay just tired." You try to lie and make sure they can get to the last race on time.

Half-way through the race you feel lightheaded and tip over grabbing onto one of the workers in the garage and chaos ensues. They don't tell any of the drivers because the race would turn deadly if they found out.

Max wins and is looking for Bunny and notices that the McLaren garage are talking in a hurried tone to Lando who drops verything and rushes to your side in the hospital

no can u imagine the appendicitis episode of greys anatomy but it’s bunny and landoscar 😭 she’s feeling awful all day like wtf is wrong w me i feel like dying. sneaking away to throw up, worried she's pregnant or something bc why else is she throwing up first thing in the morning. but it hurts too much to be pregnancy unless something is wrong and that's a scary thought so she doesn't think ab it bc like.. yikes! she's dodging kisses bc she knows she tastes like vomit and doesn't want to worry them before their race. its the last race so she’s trying to push through it but it’s too much. passes out from the pain and is taken to the medical tent and then the hospital. by the time they’re out of the race and are looking for her, she’s in surgery having her appendix removed bc it ruptured or was ab to and they had to remove it before it did, plus had to do it before leaving whatever country they're in. they don’t get to see her bc despite ppl assuring them oscar and lando are both her boyfriends, legally they can’t be let in w her until she wakes up and is accepting visitors. she wakes up alone and has to press the button to call a nurse and as soon as someone comes she’s asking where her bfs are and they do a checkup ask her questions before they're let in. shes high on morphine and as soon as she sees the two of them she giggles and says "i have two boyfriends." and they feel their worry fade seeing she's okay and finally find out what happened bc no one would tell them bc of medical laws. max would have driven them to the hospital to see her tbh and lando and oscar are sitting in the back seat holding hands completely silent. the three of them would sit together in the waiting room until she woke up and then max would be alone for awhile until one of them came out to get him. he walks in and immediately notices she's high out of her mind on painkillers because her eyes light up and she says "now i have three boyfriends." and the three of them are crowded around her bed playing with her hair and holding her hands, rubbing their hands up and down her legs. they just need to be touching her to know she’s okay.

i like to think lance would come by to say he's glad she's okay after she posts on ig and is like "sorry i passed out on live tv my appendix ruptured 👍" and the other three men can't help but notice the lack of excitement when he comes bearing gifts. maybe charles texted he was on the way so the door starts opening and she gets excited and says "charlie's here!" and then it's lance 😭 her excitement disappears and shes like uhh thanks lance 👍bye i can only have 4 visitors and charles is on the way.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 21 TYRION III (pages 197-208)

Tyrion has a final dinner at Castle Black and takes a good-bye tour of the Wall, confirming his bro-ship with Jon and Ghost before he returns south.

-

“- Once the Watch spent its summers building, and each Lord Commander raised the Wall higher than when he found it. Now it is all we can do to stay alive.”

*Shocked Pikachu face* Oh, but that is so fascinating, for all that the Wall is talked about like it's this at least pseudo mystical thing, the Night's Watch has been building it for nigh on 8,000 years. How tall was the wall when Bran the Builder considered it finished? Did the wall melt and shrink as the years went on? Did the Lord Commanders make it much, much taller than it originally ever was, or just restore lost height?

“You are a young man, Tyrion,” Mormont said. “How many winters have you seen?” He shrugged. “Eight, nine. I misremember.” “And all of them short.” “As you say my lord.” He had been born in the dead of winter, a terrible, cruel, one that the maesters said had lasted near three years, but Tyrion's first memories were of spring. “When I was a boy, it was said that a long summer always meant a long winter to come. This summer has lasted nine years, Tyrion, and a tenth will soon be upon us. Think on that.”

Hang on, give me a second. *Checks appendix* Sansa – 11 years old, Arya – 9 years old. So... Sansa and Arya could have both been born during the last winter, but if they weren't, Arya, Bran and Rickon are all children born during the long summer. I'm not saying that means anything, I just thought it was interesting. (Do I have a deep-seated need for (at least one of) the girls to have been born in the winter and for that to have meant something? Yeah, a little bit, not gonna lie.)

A wooden stair ascended the south face, anchored on huge rough-hewn beams sunk deep into the ice and frozen in place. Back and forth it switched, clawing its way upward as crooked as a bolt of lightning. The black brothers assured him it was much stronger than it looked, but Tyrion's legs were cramping too badly for him to even contemplate the ascent. … His bare cheeks were ruddy with the cold, and his legs complained more loudly with every step, but Tyrion ignored them. … “I have a mile of Wall to guard. Will you walk with me?” “If you walk slowly,” Tyrion said. “The watch commander tells me I must walk, to keep my blood from freezing, but he never said how fast.”

Awww, poor Tyrion, the cold is just so bad for his legs, not to mention all the strain from horse riding and stair climbing he'll have been doing. I'm glad Jon's doing better, and that these two are on friendly terms. Now as long as neither of them turns into an unrecognisable asshat...

I also really like how Tyrion's POV describes the land north of the Wall, like they had dragons less than a century and a half ago, and for all they've mapped there's still so much they haven't, so much wilderness left in Westeros, but the land north of the wall is just so ancient and other.

[freedomapollo]

this is (not) a good bye

might be a bad one

separation has never been my forte or so they say (them being my own self)

i used to feel a rather indescribable sense of calmness and despair every time the sun would set and i dug up quotes and quotes to convince myself that the day would come again and that depression wasn't eating me alive when - in reality- it was

it gets undeniable after a couple of years on the road.

god i wish i was on the road. i'm stuck like a streetlight on this side of the bridge, this side of the ocean, immovable force meets immovable force and there we have: me.

i hope to see you again someday, i whisper to the sunset that once made me feel what a terrible mistake it was to be alive. that's what i felt back then. alive.

as the darkness of the night engulfed the sun and all its light and glory i felt the demons inside around and above me consume every single drop of the blood i spilled. thankfully my own. it's always been.

that's the perk of having an ego: centric. the self revolves around anything that shines bright enough to fool it as gold, so it keeps rotating on and on around itself until it finds meaning. is there any?

to love and to be loved?

to live fully every minute second hour day week or year?

the world's been around for millennia and it still hasn't figured our its purpose but the self-centred human being decided they would be different. we are rational. how splendorous. how splendid.

just an appendix of the universe, that's the magnitude of the milky way. which makes us what? the calculi?

the starts that shine bright at night don't always come out to play. sometimes darkness gets them too. it got me for a while.

there's no point in fighting. i have to let it out. i've spilled blood and i've killed for so much less.

my soul's calling gets louder and louder by the minute and my spirit begs me for mercy and compassion and water and most importantly and above all things: art.

i'm thirsty. hungry. parched. empty.

fill me with Your Glory and allow me to live another day but above all allow me to fill my life with Art. above all. for all. Love and Art. that's the truth i've been seeking and that's the only thing that can quench my thirst so let there be light but let there be art as well.

i hate saying goodbye.

let me live this dream of mine, give my soul what it's been craving. i'm way past the point of no return so, please

please

let there be art and let me live it.

                                                                                                  . mars                                                                                                                  (11.04.23)

[libidomechanica]

“And when them, and like to annoy, our books are”

And always true: perplext by Fools, whose witt is won.     Unconscious memory murmurest Steps behind their scaly back. Or used to thee and     rapt oration, frozen in the power. Love no self-passion cannot fall before a     wild war’s death. Most in suc secure. To green-kyrtled Spring. Whatever wauks. The mountain-     source of good, be some sullen bell give

what got into her, thus govern’d earth and roll’d me     from their mourning the floors, where thou art let this. That in thy seconds in triumphant iron     of thee, Cynara! Her eye. Had fallen on a boughs, and balmy breathing, and to     the Hall to serve my prophets Sons before; how often I cannot look: already we’re     a’ dry wi’ drink. Old warder happy,

honest dead? While it deare Monument: impoverist,     and Buttress up the Number of the hall after shook the other; let us now     we talk as ere these buried to love: O impiously we sang: They don’t necessary     that gave her dead; and the great? Once, my life with a groan for ourselves thy most adore. The     Bad fountains great the good-bye to a

widow mourn because some gan thine, oh, how thus Replies,     to-day that I cannot Grant so much growth of children most place, should by mee, and the     fear of burning door, nor no darken’d with her but say, she love tunes why should deceives     rain still, and glittering endure: and, star and a numerous weighed in sleep till forward-     creeping to paint. Some ghostly galley-

rowers�� toil: with great worlds to him into flakes of     her who roll’d me foolish noise about then what honour in my friends who know form and throng’d?     Thou hast thou dost borrowe. My pulse fairest motions when Bacchus’ eye-wink turning dew, wanting.     In such as the parent iudge that caught to be truth remaineth unreveal’d the wild     bee farms of flesh as we rustling race,

and dies out the tide, leg over arrow house; a     Road of my low last as pure in due times. Grace you as Ra knew not why, he told thee shall     not suffer showers, to plead and never was wrestled a thing all the literature     for any wanted an overplus; more shall speak. Awake, and Dye. I sing to burst the     Kraken the Mass, unto men, at vesper’s

earliest creaked where thy forced to see and pity     ere shepeherdes shall sit at ease. Tongues that Heavens, before than any Kurd am     I, and its waves to reach unbounded thrush, schooled before in his nuts in the right wise,     the meadows cast the most reviewest not when should melodies, and Providently bends     the Paschal Lamb. Climb thy tale of a

Foolish ones I may complain. Is flown away. And     see and bones were the Fathers walked with mourning long, and a leaf was done, within the shining     Age: behold him an Appendix of my boat is one, and wayled, and black hue from     foreign fields I kisses gave, and Things; the prow; sleep, your name than living bluff that graffed     to see. And things goodlihead thy woes,—

He did oft has never can I am Ra who     drew from rose-carnations knew not her, read thy beauty here paper. Garden-walks I move,     and each for power, would he lets high with shadowe serv’d my Melpomene resign’d, and cove;     till not yield that on this kin! And when them, and like to annoy, our books are quickly, waiting     they shot himself deep sinks bene

dispraise. And think to make Treason where the first days.     To where in silent present ease, in sunny side of him. Touching around, and breath, O     Lord, and those dear cause she still were the Sun did rests upon the highwayman comes rownd. Thus     on his vigorous strove, and tent, imperiall sway. A meetings made his daughter, she sinks     in the scantly away. A chains refrain,

the fold, once, other’s anger on thy meed for,     gird these have been able to clutch the crimson fringed steeds, I’ll wrap me o’er, and love and     sweetest Sorrow, and, fall in the flows down. One moments when thou can sorrow Ile wed;     Despair: calm and half the blest with rust, scarlets, although the wailful within us     From the comrade of the body be.

[lunarkittens]

now you’re on your own (won’t you come back home?) (1/?)

Word Count: 2,760 (In this part)

Rating: T

Pairings: Gen

Summary: Dean doesn’t believe in fate. But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail saying Sam’s in the hospital. Pre-Series.

Dean doesn’t believe in fate. He can believe in a lot of other things, sure. Ghosts, ghouls, demons. Those are things he’s seen, things he can’t deny because they’ve been right before his eyes, have even tried to kill him a few times, but fate? Destiny? Give him a break. If any part of Dean’s life has been fate, he’s gonna need to talk to the guy in charge and maybe knock a couple of his teeth out, the fucking asshole. How’s that for fate?

But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother who’s hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail from Sam.

The mere shock of seeing his name on his phone makes him blink hard, like he must be imagining it, but he closes his eyes and opens them and pinches himself and it’s still there, still says Sam on the screen, still says he left a voicemail and all of a sudden Dean feels sick, his heart rate skyrocketing into the triple digits easily. He considers ignoring it. Sam left, after all. Looked Dean right in his eyes and still left, slamming the door behind him, like Dean never meant anything to him at all. Screw Sam.

But this? Two years into it?

Sam wouldn’t call him unless it was an emergency. The voicemail is from half an hour earlier, when Dean had been wiping sweat off his brow with his sleeve while a fire roared in a dug grave. Bye bye, bitch, he’d muttered, lingering a bit longer than he normally would. So this is California, he thought. He closed his eyes and felt the night air. Closed his eyes and wondered if he could maybe feel Sam somehow, his energy distinct in this great expanse of a state that crawled down so much of the West Coast. He came up empty, no energy, no little brother, and got in the car.

He didn’t want a motel, he wanted to gun it out of Cali ASAP and get the hell away from redwood trees and mountains and dry heat before he did something crazy like show up at Sam’s dorm or start crying. As far as he was concerned, California had stolen Sam from him.

There was no wanting to see the sights after that.

And then he’d gotten back in the car and seen the voicemail. Shakily, Dean presses play.

“Hey Dean.” Sam says. Dean shifts in his seat, ready to focus, to absorb. It’s been two years since he’s heard this voice, heard it say his name. However angry he still is, however sad, he wants to savor it.

Sam says his name the same way he always has, the exact same intonation, but he’s sighing it this time. “I don’t know if....Hell, I don’t even know if you care, or if you’ll even listen to this...and you don’t have to call me back, but well...You used to get pissed if I didn’t tell you stuff like this, so here goes. I’m at the hospital.”

Dean tenses, fists gripping the steering wheel tightly. “They’re gonna have to remove my appendix. I was really sick all day and my friend rushed me here. I’m fine,” Sam rushes to say.

“But I just thought...I don’t know why I called. Be safe out there, okay? I know you know what you’re doing, but just- God. Stay alive, okay?” And then there’s a silence that hangs in the air, just waiting to be filled before Dean hears Sam sigh and the voicemail ends.

Okay, fine. Palo Alto, it is. Dean puts the car in drive and intends to fully ignore the speed limit the whole way there, letting Led Zeppelin keep him awake.

When he gets there, and fuck it took a while. Why is California so fucking big? What if he had been on the East Coast? He calls three hospitals and finds the one Sam’s at, pulling into the parking lot and going inside.

It’s weird, when the receptionist asks his name and there’s nothing fake this time, no fake ID to pull out, nothing to lie about. He’s just...just himself. Dean Winchester, here to visit his brother.

“He finished surgery earlier.” The lady says to him.

“I’ll go ask the doctor if you can see him, but I’m sure he’s unconscious.”

“That’s fine,” Dean says. “It’s just kind of my job to look out for the kid, you know?”

Dean doesn’t know what it is, but something in his voice makes the lady look at him more intensely than she had a minute ago.

“Yeah,” she says, voice full of a meaning Dean can’t understand, the way that sometimes happens with strangers. “I do.”

She comes back a few minutes later while Dean sits in a rickety waiting room chair made of wood and she tells him where to go to find Sam. He wonders what friend of his took him here, can’t help but think that it should have been him instead. Him taking care of his brother, and no one else. Where is this friend of his, anyway? Who dumps someone at the hospital and doesn’t still around?

Dean distantly remembers as he makes his way to Sam that Christmas is soon. College kids go on break, leave for the holidays and come back after. He’ll have to ask Sam about it, if he’s been all alone. He won’t ask Sam to come back, already knows how that’ll go.

It doesn’t stop him from wishing for it.

Dean gets some of the worst coffee he’s ever had and pairs it with a plastic wrapped sandwich and some chocolate chip cookies from a vending machine he sees on his way to the room. Odds are Sam is gonna be unconscious for a while and Dean might as well have something in his stomach while he waits for Sam to wake up.

The doctor is around, greets Dean, says Sam is gonna be just fine, just needs to rest undisturbed, spend some time recovering at home. Says if Sam had gotten there any later, his appendix would have burst. The thought makes Dean shudder.

Sam looks young. 20 but to Dean he’ll always look 15. His hair is still long, his face serene in sleep from pain medication, and as much as it hurts to admit, he doesn’t look like a hunter at all. His features are too soft, not angry or hardened enough. It’s all Dean can do to not reach a hand out to stroke Sam’s hair, caress his forehead. That’s his Sammy. He thinks back to the voicemail, back to Sam saying, I don’t even know if you care. Of fucking course, Dean cared. How could Sam even think that? It was Sam who’d left-

And then his father’s voice, hard and absolute, comes booming through his head like a crack of thunder.

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back,” And Sam’s eyebrows furrowing, as if he’s holding back tears, and Sam’s look at dean, it hadn’t been angry after all, now that he thinks about it, it had been- Oh, Sammy. Never.

Never.

Dean hangs his head and leans forward. He can’t tell in this hospital gown, but Sam looks okay. A bit skinny, hair a little too long, but hey. That’s Sam. At least California hasn’t changed him that much. He’s got a nice tan about him, a glow that looks sallow in the hospital lighting but Dean knows would look glorious in the sunlight.

Dean falls asleep in the hospital chair an hour into it, stomach full and head at an angle that’s gonna pinch later, but he had a long drive and Sam is here right where he can see him and that’s more than Dean’s had in a long time, and some restless part of him that never lets itself lay down and sleep is actually at peace for once, so he closes his eyes.

He tries not to think of Sammy all sweaty and shaky, sick and pale and clutching his abdomen, and then it hadn’t even been Dean who was there for him.

Dean wouldn’t have even know about this, not ever, not if Sam hadn’t decided to call, and why did he? Dean intends on finding that out when Sam wakes up. Why now?

Did Sam ever miss him? He sure missed Sam, when he’d let himself admit it. There are ghosts like the ones he sees every day, but there’s another kind of ghost too. Ones that are entirely human and still alive but haunt him all the same, and Sam’s been one of them ever since he left.

And there’s no bones to burn, nothing to salt or destroy, just Sam with him every step of the way, just haunting him all the way from California.

Sam wakes up not long after Dean does, groaning and blinking hard, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light, rubbing them. Dean almost laughs, the familiarity of the expressions. Sam’s woken up the same way his entire life, and Dean tries to get rid of his smile. he’d almost forgotten how awkward this was gonna be, having to interact with each other. Dean had gotten used to seeing Sam, had been sitting here for a while, but Sam was probably still stuck in yesterday, hadn’t expected Dean to even care, if his voicemail was anything go by, let alone be sitting next to him.

Sam looks around and when his eyes fall on Dean, he startles, hand on his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You scared the hell outta me,” he says, and Dean laughs.

“It’s not funny.” Sam says. “I thought you were a ghost or something.” Dean puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder with careful pressure.

“Not dead yet, Sammy. got a few years left in me.”

“You got more than that,” Sam says, stretching in bed and wincing slightly.

“And what about you?” Dean says. “Your appendix just decide to go AWOL?”

“Ugh,” Sam groans. “Dude, yeah. I was doing some reading, trying to get ahead for next semester, you know? And then I just felt this...pressure, on my side. Whatever, I just ignored it for a while. Then I started throwing up, and I just couldn’t stop.”

“Dude, gross!” Dean says, making a face to offset how bad he feels for Sam. Sam smiles at him, and they’re silent.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks after a minute.

“My buddy Kyle hadn’t left the dorms yet so I called him and he dropped me off. It’s a lot cheaper than an ambulance.” Dean nods.

“And where’s Kyle at now?”

“Home. Everybody’s gone home for break. Believe it or not, it’s almost Christmas.” Sam says, smiling and shaking his head, mostly to himself.

“I know it doesn’t look like it, though.” Sam says, and yeah, no white Christmases here, that’s for sure.

“Where the hell are you staying?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs.

“Same place I did last year,” he says. “Pay extra to stay over break. I’m not the only one there. There’s a lot of international students who can’t get home.”

“Who’s gonna take care of you?”

“I am,” Sam says. “It’ll be fine. It’s pretty basic stuff. I am an adult, you know.”

“Sam, cmon.” Dean scoffs.

“What?” Sam says, defensive.

“We’re not doin that, okay? You just got surgery. You’re not gonna be by yourself.”

“Well, who else is gonna take care of me?” Sam asks. Really? Dean wants to ask. Is he really asking that?

“Really, Sam?”

“No, tell me. What- You’re just gonna put off hunting for a month and nurse me back to health?” Dean swallows hard.

“What if I did? Huh? What if I came down here just so I could do that?” Dean holds his gaze defiantly, jaw clenched, and Sam raises his eyebrows. He deflates, catching Dean off guard. It makes him raise his eyebrows.

“Dean, come on.” Sam says gently. “You can’t do that. There’s people out there who need you.”

“That’s really rich, Sam.” Dean bites out.

“That’s really rich coming from you. Just shut up, okay? You’re damn right people need me. One of them just so happens to be sitting in this room, and he just got a piece of his body cut out of him a few hours ago. I’m needed here.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam! Okay?” Dean says, standing up now.

“Come on...Tell me. If you don’t want my help, say it. Tell me there’s not a part of you that wants me to stay and wants me to take care of you like before.” Dean swallows hard against a growing tightness in his throat, a burning in his eyes. He stares at Sam with a focus and intensity that could start fires.

“If you tell me that you don’t want me here, I’ll get right back in the car and leave. You won’t ever have to hear from me again. But you have to say it.”

Sam’s eyes are wet. He’s losing the same battle Dean is fighting right now.

“I’m not gonna say it,” Sam says softly. “You’re not gonna hear it. Not from me. I can’t...”

“I mean, you- You left us, Sammy,” Dean says more gently, more open and devastated than he ever wanted sam to hear him sound. He sits down now, posture nonthreatening.

“I mean, how am I supposed to-“

“Dean,” Sam says, firm enough to cut Dean off but not angry, not enough to start a fight. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I understand just fine-“

“No, Dean. I’m not gonna let Dad do this to us anymore! Do you see what’s happening? No more misunderstandings. I left him. I never wanted- I didn’t want to leave you. But then Dad said I couldn’t come back, and you didn’t say any different, and I thought you didn’t want me around anymore either, so I never called, never texted. I didn’t expect you to come, okay? I thought you’d delete the voicemail without even listening to it.”

“I thought you’d washed your hands of me, Dean. I was alone.” Sam scoffs.

“I mean, really alone. I used to always have you. If I didn’t have anything else, I knew I had you. And then I didn’t. So don’t say that- Don’t act like I ran out on you. I wanted to take you with me.”

Dean turns that over in his mind, can’t believe it’s true. It’s too much, gives him too much hope. He knows all too well about the dangers of hope. It’s too heartbreaking and amazing in equal measure. He thinks about going back in time and leaving with Sam, working a job and sharing an apartment with him in California, drinking cold beer on the beach and quizzing sam before tests, eating ice cream and going on summer road trips.

“Sam,” he says, pushing away those thoughts. “You know I would never leave Dad.” Sam nods, a tear falling onto the sheets.

“I know.” He sounds defeated.

“And you also know,” Dean begins. “That I’d never abandon you either. I got the voicemail and I-” Dean scoffs. “I must have broken every traffic law out there trying to get here in time, and- and you’re staying with me, got it?” he says, pointing a finger at Sam.

“We’ll find a place for the month and get you better. You gave up your right to argue when you started crying all over your little hospital dress.”

“Asshole,” Sam snorts. “Now I really don’t want you to take care of me,” he jokes.

“Too bad! It’s gonna be Nurse Dean all month long, surgery boy.” Sam lets out a little laugh, and Dean relaxes a little bit.

“Dean,” Sam says, serious again. “A month. How are we gonna pay for a month? And dad- How are you gonna explain this to dad?”

“Dad doesn’t bother me much about hunts.” Dean shrugs. It’s the truth.

“He just calls, asks if I finished ‘em. Always tell him I did because I do. He’s not gonna press me for details. And payment, well. I know a guy who’s got us covered.”

Before Sam can even open his mouth to ask, Dean’s pulling out a fake credit card and showing it in all its shiny and fraudulent glory.

“Burt Maximoff is a very generous man.” Dean says, grinning. Sam snorts again, shaking his head, but he’s smiling fondly all the same.

A month.

[runawaymun]

This is such a fun discussion and I love reading everyone's thoughts.

As a Peredhil enthusiast, I think the key point to note here is that, when it comes to canon, Tolkien treats Peredhil as another type of 'thing' entirely separate from Men, Elves, and Maiar, and they have their own way of living and their own way of dying. Elrond and his line specifically are never referred to as elves. Elladan and Elrohir are referred to distinctly as "sons of Elrond", when listed alongside Men & Elves and Elrond himself is not referred to as an elf or a man, but as somewhere in between, and counts the Dunedain as his kin. This leads me to believe that Tolkien considered Peredhil to be their own separate genetic thing. Mortal in Tolkien's world is not really a genetic thing, but rather a state of being in regards to the Music of Arda, if that makes sense. Elves and Maiar are forever bound to the fate of Arda. Men are not, and leave the bounds of Arda to (speculatively) dwell with Eru when they die, getting the "gift" of mortality. Everyone seems to get world weary, but mortals, specifically, are able to go "I'm done with this y'all", and peace out.

Evidenced by Dior (as @niennawept pointed out!) Peredhil seem to be default mortal (but NOT human), just perhaps with long life-spans, due to Luthien's choice. Dior married VERY young and had kids VERY young. Elves don't even reach maturity until 100. So Peredhil definitely seem to follow a mortal span of aging. This is further supported by the fact that both Elwing & Earendil married equally young and had children around the age of 30, long before somebody with an Elvish lifespan would even be considered to hit puberty.

However, once again, Tolkien never refers to any Peredhil as "human". Merely "mortal".

So the final sort of 'nail in the coffin' so to speak regarding Peredhil as being a separate genetic thing (they're not genetically human, not genetically elvish) is that they (and the Dunedain, seemingly) can choose when they die.

We don't know what Luthien did. Tolkien never says, though I assume it's similar. But we have evidence chiefly through Arwen's story in Appendix A. Aragorn basically just peaces out. He goes and lies down in bed and goes "bye y'all" and then dies. It could be argued that Tolkien did this for dramatic effect, but I think it's on purpose, because Arwen does the same thing later. She fades for a while in Lothlorien after Aragorn's death, and then...key wording: "lays herself to rest".

So Men (and hobbits, and Dwarves) don't really choose when they die. They just die. Elves don't die at all (but they can fade and their spirits can go to the hall of Mandos to await the reforming of Arda). Peredhil (and possibly Dunedain from Elros' line, so genetically the same thing, just watered down, which to me is key) age rapidly (like Men), until they slow down considerably once they reach puberty (like elves), but then choose to say "my work here is done/i'm heartbroken and world-weary", and lay themselves to rest and release their spirits to Eru (specific to Peredhil).

So anyway, TLDR: I think there is enough evidence here to argue that Tolkien himself considered Peredhil to be their own separate genetic entity from men and elves. Luthien wasn't human, ever. And I personally have gathered a decent amount of (flimsy, contextual) evidence which I won't get into here that supports Elrond getting a lot of genetics from specifically the Maiar side, so I'm definitely in the camp of "the maiar genetics got passed down, and Peredhil are their own thing".

EDIT: also important to note from a genetics re Peredhil =\= human perspective, that Elves do not grow beards unless they're extremely old, and that Elros is said to have never grown a beard and the Dunedain are notably beardless! idk that's just a random aside note lmao.

Hey, silmarillion fandom! I have a /g question bc i am a bit confused.

So, Beren and Luthien did the whole “died and came back human” thing before they had Dior, right?

Like, when Luthien and Beren came back from mandos, they were both fully human right? And then they had dior.

Doesn’t that mean that Dior is only human? That there is not maian magic in him bc luthien gave that up for Beren?

Bc that’s what I’m understanding from the text, yet everyone is acting like dior and his descendents are descended from Melian and Luthien, like that they inherited the maian aspect of it, when (from my understanding) Luthien giving up that heritage was a big part of her and beren’s epic romance?

(Side note, this would also mean that at one point doriath was being ruled by a human king and i don’t think that would have gone over well...)

Or was it like, Luthien only gave up the maian part of the equation and kept the elf part, at least untill beren died and she joined him.

I’m sorry if i am confusing you, i myself am a bit befuddled.

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Gleefuldarrencrissfan Day 2

Author: @gleefuldarrencrissfan

Share one of your strengths.

I've been told that I do a great job writing in each character's voice, especially Blaine, Kurt, Santana, Brittany, and Finn.  It's very important to me that my characters remain true to who they are.  I work very hard to make sure that each one sounds like they would in the show.  

I've also been told that I'm great at cliffhangers.  Honestly, I end on cliffhangers a lot as I try to figure out which route I plan to take for the story.  I map out stories, but sometimes, the story takes me in a different direction.  I also like to take suggestions from my readers.  Many times, I have multiple scenarios on the direction in which the story can go.  I love keeping my readers on their toes. 

Share one of your weaknesses.

Well, because I have so many scenarios running through my head, I sometimes get stuck, and so, I don't update regularly.  I used to try to publish weekly or more, but as a mom of two, a full time assistant in a high-needs classroom, an avid crafter, and a member of a band, my plate stays pretty full.  I hope that my readers will subscribe and drop a comment from time to time to remind me to keep writing. 

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I'm going to bring up two, Dueling Duets and Love, Blaine.  Dueling Duets is a complex fic with many characters and a very intricate plot.  On top of that, Blaine has PTSD, as do I.  It became too painful to finish this, so it is the only fic of mine that is abandoned.  I would like to finish it, but I just don't see that happening any time soon.  

Love, Blaine was so difficult for me because I wrote it all before publishing, and I thrive on feedback.  I kept going back and rewriting scenes over and over because I just couldn't make up my mind about certain things.  I also get anxious with a timeline hanging over my head, and so I went past the deadline.  Unfortunately, my appendix decided to burst the week I was supposed to publish, so I was trying to write through the pain.  I did finish it, and I'm proud of it, but I probably won't put myself through that again. 

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Private Messages, by far.  Honestly, it was so easy because Kurt was me in a sense, a fanfic author, desperate for feedback on his writing.  I also outlined this fic thoroughly, and so it just seemed to flow when I got to a certain point.  It is by far, my most popular fic, and honestly, it is my favorite of all of the ones that I've written.  Don't get me wrong.  It was very complex, bouncing back and forth from Blaine's and Kurt's perspectives, with plotlines from the show, Kurt's story, and the actual story all coming together and interweaving at times making it difficult to write, but I always knew where it was going, and so it was the easiest to finish. 

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

It's one of my passions, along with music and crafting.  I'm an artist at heart, and so I'd never be happy or fulfilled in life if I wasn't creating in one shape or form.  I honestly love the way art makes you feel, both as the artist and as the person affected by other people's art.  My favorite thing is one someone tells me how my writing or work made them feel.  

I'm also writing educational children's books, and I hope to inspire kids in the future to love to learn, and so it is a major passion of mine to be a published author and get my books out there for kids to read. 

Is there an episode or character or arc above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Blaine Anderson.  He was by far the character that inspires me the most, probably because I see myself in him, the confident, happy performer who is really quite insecure and maybe even depressed. I wish that the show would have let us see more of his personal life.  At felt like, at times, he was just Kurt's boyfriend, but he was so much more than that.  It would have been nice to actually see his home, his parents, and his brother to get greater insight on why he is the way he is.  Thank god for fanfiction.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Just write.  The first draft does not have to be perfect.  That's what editing is for.  Get yourself a beta, dig in, and just get the words on the page.  No one can read your work if the pages are all in your head.  

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Stick to what you know.  That's what research is for.  Branch out.   Explore.  Interview and talk to others.  Although, if you are researching something embarrassing, for example, Brazilian waxing, use incognito mode.  lol. 

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Private Messages.  I just love this story, and I think it would best translate into a movie.  Besides, Blaine is an actor in this one, so it works. 

What’s your process? Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? What are the perfect writing conditions for you?

Ha ha.   I find it funny that I have a process because it depends on the fic I'm writing at the time.  for my more complex stories, I do best when I map them out first.  I don't do a complex map, just a basic synopsis of the first 10 chapters or so, and then a rough outline afterward.  Of course, I keep it a soft outline, and I also plan a few other scenarios in case the story goes in a different direction.  Even Chris Colfer says that his characters surprise him in his stories, and so I'm in good company, I suppose.  

However, on my shorter stories like Rim Job, and idea just comes to me, and I just write what comes to me, and then I even take suggestions from my readers about further chapters.  I guess it just depends on the tone of the fic.  If it's serious, I'm much more structured, but on my less serious pieces, I just have fun and write.   

The perfect conditions are when I'm alone (be it when others are sleeping or out of the house) and I can just allow my muse to work.  I put on some background noise (Glee music or episodes) for inspiration and just sit down in front of my laptop with my notebooks.  Many times, I have scenes written in my notebooks before I type them out (I write when I'm waiting at the dr.'s office or at work during a break, ect) so all I have to do is type and polish the scene.  Unfortunately, I have several scenes in my notebooks that haven't made it into a word document yet just because of lack of time.  Hopefully, I will catch up this summer.

***

Check out Gleefuldarrencrissfan’s Fics

Somewhere Only We Know -  Blaine has three little words on his mind when he says good bye to Kurt in the court yard at McKinley. Can he make himself declare them out loud? An alternate ending to "Born This Way"

Silly Love Songs -  It's Valentine's Day, and Blaine had plans to serenade Jeremiah. But what if Blaine discovered the doodle Kurt made in Silly Love Songs before he serenaded Jeremiah? The scene at the Lima Bean is canon and everything to the point of Kurt sketching the doodle, but the ending, of course will be how I had hoped it would've happened.

Courage -  Do you believe that one moment can change the course of your life? That one event change the way you saw everything, or do you think it's a series of moments that build from one experience to the next. A year ago, I would've said that was crazy. But I'm not the same guy that I was a year ago.

[kaimelia]

Hurt

A/N: Hi everyone! This was a request on my ao3 a while ago. I hate to say this but updates will probably be a bit slower in the upcoming days, I have a big research project due and I have to prep for auditions, but keep sending prompts and requests! I promise I will write each one in the near future. Thank you so much for all of the support, it truly means the world.

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

Amelia slowly walked down the stairs towards the ER, an arm clutching her stomach as she winced in pain. She was silently praying that nobody would come down the stairs and see her like this. By the time she reached the bottom, her small figure was leaning against the wall, a hand reaching into her pocket to grab her phone. She clicked Link’s contact open and called him, breathing heavily with each ring of the phone.

“Amelia? What’s up?”

“Can you-can you come and meet me in the stairwell? I don’t know what’s happening but everything hurts and I don’t think I can walk to the ER.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” he said, clearly beginning to run down the hallway. After what felt like an eternity to her, the door opened, revealing a concerned Link. He noticed her sitting on the floor, curled up into a ball. “Oh, Amelia.” He rushed over to her, crouching down. “Let’s get you to the ER and find out what’s happening.” She quietly agreed, looking into his eyes.

“Link, what if-what if I’m-”

“Don’t think about that. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” He reached an arm under her legs, using the other to support her back as he picked her up. Amelia buried her face in his chest, hoping to avoid contact with anyone she knew. The loud noises of the ER flooded her ears, hearing Link ask for a room. The next thing she felt was the cushion of the bed below her and Link’s hand grabbing hers. “Amelia, Teddy’s gonna come and check on you, okay?” The brunette nodded slowly and gripped her boyfriend’s hand tighter.

“Hey, Amelia. What’s going on?” She looked up at the trauma surgeon.

“I’m uh, 9 weeks pregnant, and my stomach hurts a lot.” Teddy smiled down at her and pulled out the ultrasound machine.

“Have you had a scan yet?”

“She did, last week. Everything was fine,” Link spoke up, his face covered with worry.

“Where does it hurt?” Amelia pointed to her stomach, cringing as Teddy pressed down in that area. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s your appendix, have you had it out?” The neurosurgeon shook her head. “I’m going to do an ultrasound, now. We can see if it’s your appendix and also check on the baby. Can you lift up your shirt?” Link helped his girlfriend to roll up her scrub top, exposing her small stomach. “This will be cold.” Amelia winced as the gel was placed on her belly, watching as the probe spread the gel around.

“Is everything okay?” Amelia’s voice was soft as she asked, watching Teddy’s face scan the screen.

“Baby looks perfectly fine to me, it’s definitely your appendix. We can get you in surgery soon.”

“And that’s safe for the baby?” Teddy looked up at Link and smiled.

“Perfectly safe. I’ll have Carina stop by first and make sure nothing’s wrong, but I can get someone to do your surgery today.” Teddy brushed Amelia’s arm, letting her know everything would be fine. “I’ll be back in a minute. Hang in there.” Amelia turned to look at her boyfriend as the other doctor left the room, Link’s free hand moving to rub softly up and down her cheek.

“This is good, it means you’ll feel better soon.”

“Make sure they don’t give me any pain meds, okay?” He nodded. “And you’ll be there, after surgery?”

“Of course.” The doors opened, Carina walking through.

“So, what happened?”

“She was having some stomach pain, it’s her appendix. We just want to make sure everything’s okay with the baby, too.” Carina turned on the ultrasound machine and moved the wand across Amelia’s stomach.

“Everything looks perfect. Baby is all good. I will come after your surgery and check again to be safe, okay?” She wiped off the machine, putting it back against the wall. They thanked her, watching as she walked out just for Teddy to walk back into the trauma room.

“Alright, you’re getting the best. Bailey’s gonna do your surgery. She’s waiting upstairs.” Amelia looked up at Link, her hand moving up to his cheek and pulling his face down. She kissed him quickly before smiling at him.

“I’ll see you soon.” He laughed softly, kissing her again.

“I’ll be there when you wake up.” The nurse unlocked the gurney, pushing it towards the out of the room. “Bye, Amelia!” The gurney was pushed towards the elevator as Teddy walked with the side of the gurney, holding Amelia’s hand to comfort her. When they arrived at the elevator, they stopped. Teddy looked down at her.

“I’m gonna leave you here, I have to head back to the ER. I’ll make sure Link doesn’t freak out too much.”

“Thank you, Teddy.”

“Of course. See you after surgery, Amelia.” The brunette waved goodbye to her friend, watching as the elevator doors opened in front of her as they headed towards the OR floor.

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

She woke up to see Link sitting at her bedside, a smile spread across his face. “How’d it go?” She asked, her voice quiet as she took in her surroundings.

“It went perfectly. Carina’s gonna come by and check on you in an hour or so, but you’re just fine.” He covered her small hand with his. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, and it hurts a little.” She looked up at the clock. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few hours. Bailey’s cleared us both to have the next few days off, so that means a lot of laying in bed and me taking care of you until you’re better.” She grinned.

“Like you don’t do that all the time.” Link laughed softly. “Thank you for being here, Link. And for saving me in the stairwell.” He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Lay down with me?” He nodded, moving around the bed to climb in behind her. After adjusting the wires she was hooked up to, he slowly laid down, an arm being placed over her body and carefully pulling her closer.

“Get some rest, Amelia.” The steady beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed rang throughout the room as he watched his girlfriend settle, grateful with every her breath that she was perfectly okay.

[intothemysticfic]

Hospital (BTS)

RM/ Namjoon: There's been an accident, he tries to stay level-headed, tries to think realistically. He'd heard your voice, spoken to you on the phone. You had told him yourself that you were fine, it was just a bump on the head. A part of him doesn't believe it until he sees you with his own eyes. Heart racing in his chest like it's trying to burst free to get to you quicker. When he arrives, you're all stitched up, waiting for him to take you home from the hospital.  

Jin/ Seokjin: Routine: that's how the doctor had described the procedure, but you're precious to him, and there's nothing routine about you having surgery. "There's nothing routine about removing an organ!" He grosses, a little stress even though he swears he isn't. 

"The tonsils aren't really an organ, though." You point out with a teasing smile, playful, hoping to calm him down. The words sound gravelly coming from your sore throat, and it makes him wince. He knows you'll be okay, you have the best doctor (he'd checked), the procedure isn't that dangerous (he'd spent hours on his phone researching), mostly he knows you're in pain and the surgery will fix it. 

"I'll buy you ice cream," he promises. 

Suga/ Yoongi: You send him pictures of your smiling face and a big thumbs up, hoping to ease his mind. It hurts but you don't tell him that part - your appendix is swollen and needs to be removed promptly. The pictures aren't enough to reassure him that you are fine. He's angry at himself that he can't be there - feels frustrated because he's on tour. Then he feels guilty for feeling frustrated with the tour because it makes him feel ungrateful. It's a vicious cycle of self-deprecating emotions. That doesn't ease until you're out of surgery and able to speak with him.

J-Hope/ Hoseok: "It's just a sprain." He tells you, but it's hard to believe after all the tweets and headlines you had read online. 

"Since when does a sprain require a trip to the hospital?" You're whining, distress, but he laughs. "It's just to be safe." He doesn't sound upset, or in a great deal of pain - it helps put your mind at ease. 

Still, you request, "Promise?" Again he laughs at your reaction, but doesn't hesitate to say, "I promise." In the end, it is just a mild sprain that keeps him from dancing for a little over a week.

Jimin: "I don't want to go," you pout, "I'll be fine." But your voice is hoarse, and your nose is red and you are covered in cold sweat. Jimin pouts with you, hating to see you sick. "Please, baby, you need too." 

Still you protest, whining because words hurt. He ignores the sound pulling you easily into his arms to carry you. You're fast asleep before he gets you into the car, all your energy wasted on protesting. When you wake in the hospital, he's sitting in a chair by your bedside.

V/ Taehyung: "It's probably nothing," you try to assure him not wanting him to miss work because you're getting a mammogram done because of what might be a lump. 

"Great, I'm still going with you." 

You are nervous, worst-case scenarios filling your head; his calm, steady presence helps to keep you grounded. He cracks jokes in the waiting room to make you laugh. He holds your hand in while the nurse takes blood. He reassures you when the doctor takes you back for scans. You know that no matter what, things are going to be alright because he will be by your side.

Jungkook: It feels overwhelming waiting in stiff plastic chairs as nurses and doctors come and go. You had already been taken into surgery by the time he made it to the hospital. He keeps thinking what if he never gets to see you again. What if the last time was the quick good-bye you shared this morning, him too tired to properly see you off as you teased him about being a sleepy head. It makes tears well in his eyes. The waiting is torture, but when the doctor tells him he can see you now, he finds his feet frozen to the ground - he's scared. He doesn't want to see you surrounded by machines with I.Vs and wires. No amount of reassurance from your doctor that you'll be fine can stop his tears.