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mothric · 4 months

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happy new year!! I had a horrible nightmare that (check the tags before proceeding please) I had to get a surgery to release some kind of fluid buildup in my brain and the surgery involved drilling a hole into my skull and I didn't find out they weren't intending to put me under until I was on the operating table with the nurse hovering over me with a GIANT drill

she reassured me they gave me local anesthesia but i flailed and begged to go to sleep and tried to shove the drill away while the nurse basically forced me into position, and I kept tapping my skull trying to confirm that the local even did anything because I couldn't remember them administering it. before I knew it they were drilling into the side of my head and it wasn't painful, so I guess the stuff worked, but I could hear it and feel it the way you feel what the dentist is doing even when there's novocaine. eventually i stopped yelling and fell silent because the drill was so loud and what can you even do at that point.

when they were done they cheerfully showed me an x ray of the hole they made, which went ALL the way back to my spinal cord and brain stem and stopped just a millimeter short of touching them, and they acted like this was normal and they hadn't just gone within a hair's breadth of killing me, and then they gave me a flimsy paper towel and told me I'd just need to hold it over the fresh hole in my head for awhile until it healed.

bizarre and upsetting New Year's Day dreams are practically a tradition for me at this point but, genuinely, what the Fuck was that.

#tw medical #tw medical trauma #tw surgery #tw body horror #tw nightmares #cant decide if this is better or worse than the religious nightmare i had a handful of january firsts ago #my dreams #jan 2024 #happy new year!!! :) :) :)#trying to figure out what in my waking life could have possibly prompted this #it's probably a combination of stresses all rolled into one big awful thing tbh #i guess the thrust is i wanted to be fixed or cured of something but i didnt get to be in control of how that happened #and the solution felt archaic and the aftercare was nonexistent #and i mean that's. a sensible thing to be afraid of #it wasn't even clear in the dream if the procedure even helped #but i went to this clinic at the recommendation of someone i knew. whose input- in waking life- i dont especially trust. so #maybe there's something to unpack there #ive also had friends experience some really shocking malpractice this year #and i'm still paying off medical debt #and doing year in review has brought up some unpleasant emotions as i'm realizing this year was more stressful than i thought #like a major element of this dream was 'yes i did sign up for this but some Very Important Information was withheld from me' which HONESTLY #sums up a lot of my year >_>#AND on top of that i've been wrestling with faith stuff. not getting to pick the healing process and fearing the outcome... yea #at the end of the day it's just another stress dream. it just took a form it doesnt usually take so it stands out #blegh. we'll get through this

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khazad · 1 year

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so in the hobbit bilbo says the words “where there’s life there’s hope, as my father used to say” and then in. i think the two towers? sam says the exact same thing (except his father apparently often added “…and need of vittles”)

now the phrase “as my father used to say” might just be a hobbitism used to avoid giving the impression that you think you’re wiser than you are, but we do know that bilbo and the gaffer saw a lot of each other, from at latest the point of bilbo’s return to his disappearance at his eleventy-first birthday, and in the very first scene of fotr the gaffer describes bilbo as always both addressing him with respect and deferring to his knowledge on gardening, so they probably did get on well enough to absorb some personal vernacular from each other and i like to think that “where there’s life there’s hope” was specifically a bagginsism that jumped to the gamgees through bilbo’s friendship with his gardener

#it also crops up both times in the book during relatively dire circumstances #and i like to think what possible situation could have cropped up in the second half of bilbos residence in hobbiton #that would prompt him to say that enough times that hamfast started saying it too #that being said it does sound like the kind of adage their ancestors would have passed around during more difficult times #the long or fell winters for example #but its more fun to imagine bilbo slightly fucking up a recipe and then looking at hamfast and saying ‘Well at least we’re not dead!’

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youremyonlyhope · 4 days

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Every day I am more and more upset I didn’t write that research paper on parasocial relationships in social media a whole decade ago.

#possibly my biggest regret in life #the writing was on the wall. but no one has started researching it #*HAD started #twitter was only a couple years old. same with instagram. but I saw it. it was there #i needed proper scholarly sources so I switched topics #but god the world is in worse shape than I had predicted in 2013 #yes this is partially prompted by the whole watcher thing where people seem far too heartbroken #for it to truly be a healthy fan reaction. but also I was just in some tarot tags #and I'm always so confused by the popularity of celebrity tarot. where people request readings on celebs relationships and stuff #especially in kpop there's an entire active 'kpop tarot' tag #now that's something I definitely did not see coming a decade ago. but it's still part of the larger symptom #god if only I could have been at the forefront of research and be a prominent sociologist of this field #in an alternate universe that paper would have been written and maybe I'd have revisited it doing a phd or something #I still remember my teacher asking if parasocial was a real term and that the topic was too niche #it was. it definitely was. I'd have been miserable writing 20 pages on it. but still. I knew what was on the horizon #it's just that what I thought was a wave is actually a tsunami

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lifesver · 4 months

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@meatriarch said: [ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 ] : sender attempts to stab the receiver. ( mama luda, does lee have the heart to hurt a poor older woman? 😞 ) + [ 𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐢𝐫 ] : sender is holding the receiver by the throat. ( thomas ((: )

it's obvious, by the way he nearly stumbles straight into her kitchen knife, that he doesn't expect to see mrs. hewitt — although he was certainly standing in her house, suddenly. hadn't paid enough attention to know where he was in the tunnels — just ripped a shard of rib from a carcass, and sprung for the first set of stairs he came across. anything — fucking anything to get out of that rot-smelling basement.

❝ mrs. hewitt — ❞ comes the beginning of an instinctive, startled apology.

she must have heard him come up in a stumbling hurry. must have heard the metal door thrown on its hinges. hands comes up instinctively, to shield from the wicked edge. instead, it catches across his palm, spatters new red on the peeling wallpaper.

leland hisses, clutching injured palm. shoots a wild look around him — trying to mentally re-orient. prolonged time in the tunnels had a way of making you lose your fucking mind.

' you stay right where you are, son. where's johnny? '

leland blinks; johnny was probably already looking for him. mind reels with the very real possibility that this was another test of some kind. wouldn't be a big shock, anymore.

leland doesn't dare answer her — her look of consternation and grandmotherly disappointment was piercing enough. her knife points outward, a warning, and he skitters back slightly. run — just fucking run, you have a chance just take it just run — she's just like all the rest of them. she'd kill you, all of them would kill you, they're fucking crazy —

— she's all that stands in his way between an open back door. he can feel a touch of night air. it was that close.

he could get by her. he could get free.

— but he freezes. has the truly stupid, guilty thought that she could be one of his aunts, or a grandmother. that he'd never hit a woman before, let alone an elderly one, and — she was kind to you, wasn't she? one of the only people here that was. the first face you saw waking up, after you fell down half-dead in that sunflower field at johnny's feet. patched you up after he was finished with you — as per johnny's request, he understood.

but it still mattered, to him.

even if he still didn't understand why. ( why are they doing this to you? )

his eyes flutter a dizzied blink, the walls of the front hall threaten to close in on his sides. threaten to warp and bend like a funhouse maze. floorboards give a low, tell-tale crr-reak. he can hear heavy, recognizable steps. then, an equally recognizable monstrous silhouette, stepping into the kitchen light behind the hewitt matriarch.

breath freezes. the big guy. now you're fucked.

he think he whispers a curse; harsh, fireworks adrenaline overtakes exhaustion, and leland staggers in a backtrack, away from luda mae and into the hallway.

straight into charlie hewitt's chest.

leland whirls around, having to think fast. having to immediately wrestle for the shotgun in the sheriff's hands. who laughs in his face, with fake, sinister cheer;

' well, look who it is — '

leland growls, slams the sheriff into the wall with force. operates on instinct, on some animal baseline of survive, survive, fucking kill him if you have to — he pins the man by his unrelenting grip on the shotgun. reels free fist back, nails the man in his ugly scowl so hard it reverberates back through the bones of his wrist. makes the sick bastard bleed, and that's satisfying, but —

click, bang. the shotgun goes off. feels like it shakes the hallway. his right ear blasts with everything and then nothing but a ringing white noise. dust from the ceiling lands in his hair, his eyes. he can hardly take inventory of himself — if he's been fucking shot — before the the side of the sheriff's shotgun cracks him across the cheek, spins his vision out.

hits the ground before the world can stop spotting and bleeding together.

boot slams firmly between his shoulder blades, shoves him down to the floor with a grunt. and before he can move to throw him off, he feels the barrel of the weapon nudge the back of his head, press his stinging cheek into the floorboards a little harder. reddened eye rolls up under his mussed, sweat-stuck hair. he scowls at sheriff hoyt — charlie hewitt — around bloodied teeth. but he goes still.

at least he hasn't been shot. yet.

' ain't you supposed to be tough? '

crackling, mocking laughter, and the man removes boot from leland's back — only to deliver a swift kick to his side that knocks him flat before he can recover.

' — what's that, son? you wanna speak up? ' charlie leans down a little further. he takes notice of the injury to leland's hand — drops boot down hard there, instead, to pin it in place. leland's back jolts against the floor with a cry. he groans with crunched expression, gives a sputtering cough around his bloody nose. still blinking back colour and shape while the man talks to hear himself talk, crouches downway too close. so close he can smell the man's whiskey-stinking breath wafting down on his cheek. he can feel the shotgun muzzle move, while charlie idly decides what part of him to threaten with it next.

leland's breath quickens, rabbit-fast, hearing the weapon adjust. a million horrifying images pass through his mind at once. every sound is muffled, or painfully-clear. no in-between. distantly, he thinks he can hear luda mae hollering something about ' don't you fire that thing in this house, charles hewitt. '

jesus christ. this fucking family.

( come on, you're not dying like this. )

fingers curl tighter around the scrap of ribcage he hides under his opposite palm.

❝ hey. asshole, ❞ he growls. dark eyes turn down to him for just a moment — and leland promptly spits a mouthful of blood up into the man's face. sheriff snarls a string of curses. with free hand, white-knuckle grip plunges bone shard into charlie hewitt's ankle. this time, the man jolts back with nothing short of a howl — weapon twists in the muscle, and rips free with a spatter across leland's cheek. he doesn't think much, then — uses the moment to scrabble out from under the man. he forces himself up to his feet, staggering to drag himself along the wall. back to the kitchen, chased straight back into luda mae.

square one. the door, the night air. can't get to the front of the house. can't run into that shotgun again. can't go back to the basement —

down the hall, it rings out again; the sound of the man he hated — truly fucking hated, who's shouting something to the effect of ' goddamnit tommy — '

worse, maybe; the crr-eaak-thud across the floorboards. it makes his blood run fucking cold.

— just get by her. just run. you have to just run. the bloodied piece of ribcage in his hand feels unwieldy, suddenly. suddenly he feels like he's done something wrong. hadn't she helped you? wasn't she the only one that had been kind —

it's all too much noise. his head hurts — you can't. you can't do it. not to mrs. hewitt.

❝ wait, please, ❞ breathless rasp; his hands come up halfway in a surrendering motion, eyes wide and sharp.

❝ — i don't … want to hurt you, mrs. hewitt, i — ❞

— just want to go home. you just want to go fucking home.

but there's no point in saying it. not one of them cared.

— it's just that you care. you care that this old woman doesn't get hurt in the middle of all this — and you're going to get killed for it. he can hear the big motherfucker coming up at his back. thomas hewitt. he had just threatened his mother, attacked the sheriff. pretty damning list, so far. he might as well be dead, actually.

leland can hear the low, rasping breath from behind the mask. breathing down his neck. he makes a show of dropping his makeshift weapon — but it's too late for good faith, as far as the monster in the mask was concerned. leland turns halfway, just to get a rough hand around his throat, all but tossing him, with little effort, into the nearest wall.

violent thud, quake of every bone in his body — a few picture frames are shuddered off their nails. new starry patterns blacken his vision for a half-second, but neither thomas, nor his own body are forgiving enough to let him fall into unconsciousness so easily. the heavy hand around his throat is dragging him up the kitchen wallpaper, harsh, and reopening cuts in his back. pained gasp — but no real coherent sound making it past the bruising chokehold.

eyes pinprick wide, helpless, when he stares at luda mae over her son's shoulder, as he seems to take immense satisfaction in crushing the the life out of him. heels try, fail, to catch purchase on the wall, fingernails clawing at thomas' arm — felt like the only sound, besides his strangled gasps for air. consciousness slips; and eyes draw up toward the ceiling, blink full of saltwater. the pressure in his skull, behind his eyes, feels impossible. and just as his world threatens to swoop dark and empty — a voice speaks again, distant, sounds underwater;

' — think the boy's had enough, thomas. '

a pause. sound of gruff assent in his un-ringing ear, and the pressure around his throat releases abruptly. thomas drops him without ceremony, and his body immediately crumbles like a ragdoll. painful shocks bounce up wrists and knees as he hits the wooden floorboards. every breath compresses into one tight ache in the center of his chest.

leland blinks, exhausted, hardly able to breathe, at the blood spots landing between his trembling hands. it always ended the same, didn't it?

( these people are all you have, don't you know that by now? )

… and maybe if you give up now, it won't be so bad. when johnny gets here.

he's not allowed much space at all by the brute, who makes sure to stand between him and his mother. but still, he scrabbles back like a cornered animal, eyes flicking between thomas hewitt, and the doorway, where he expected the sheriff to appear at any moment. he doesn't regret what he did to the sheriff.

❝ — i'm sorry, ❞ he gravels out, stinging lungs heaving, ❝ i wasn't … i wouldn't have … ❞ tries to string together another few incoherent apologies, before thomas roughly pulls him to his feet, iron grip closed around his arm. leland grits his teeth, pride long dead, and doesn't fight him. head bowed slightly, he stares at the floor — at his blood on the floor — hiding the burning look on his face.

quietly, softly, he draws stinging gaze to luda mae;

❝ … please just. take me back. i swear … i — i won't try anything. just … take me back down. ❞

#got rocked by the hewitt fam press f. this is how it feels when i run into the franchise in game #sorry i just wanted to see what i could get silly w in terms of violence/action prompts god bless #meatriarch #( ☆ ) ⸻ THE FILM WHICH YOU ARE ABOUT TO SEE... / ic.#( ☆ ) ⸻ DUSK / verse.#hoyt jumpscare cw i fear #gun cw #blood cw #choking cw #me gesturing vaguely... idk like... early-ish dusk i feel... first time he really hesitates trying to save his own damn life #sorry that i possibly have a few dire drafts on hand for u...on the day of ur birthday

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oscill4te · 2 months

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starting to wonder if complex dissociative disorders are genetic in any way.

#why do only some people with adverse early childhood life experiences get CDDs #so MANY FACTORS muddy this up though. for example... CDDs are very covert in nature #so is it possible many many more people than we could ever think struggle with this?#oh and regarding my post about whether its genetic...#well trauma is generational so even if you see it in a family line....#who is to say its actually biologically genetic and not just trauma racing down the generational line #because CDDs are formed from extreme trauma #and despite how much I struggled... i did have it easier than my parents. thats the ffunny thing #and i look at them and see how similar they are to me and think....#wow. no wonder they are messed up. their own parents were shittier than even them #im high excuse this xDD nonsense. im gonna try to spend my day doing some self care n chilling #ok last thing on this topic: i thought of a study but it may not he ethical. its just an idea #what if you people w trauma take a test like the DES and have their parents and grandparents take it?#just to simply determine if dissociation is the response people w adverse life experiences have?#again idk if thats even an ethical test bc i overthink ethics and it woukd have to be WILLING participants interested in the topic #bc asking somone NO PROMPT or warning about this is messed up.. most ppl excuse or block out their traum #okay enough of this post my brain just goes in loops when high :u

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luniary · 3 months

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Go fucking kill yourself.

the next message in my inbox lmao 😭

#what could have even possibly prompted this #you don't like my aesthetic??? i'm sorry😣

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skitskatdacat63 · 3 months

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How about 2 + 70 Vettonso?

Royal AU x Locked in a Room

Keke I'm assuming you're asking for boy king au? 🤭🤭 I feel like they often get locked in rooms together because everyone is so done with their bickering. Like oh noooo we lost the key, you guys are gonna have to wait in there. Together. Alone. Unfortunately the locksmith lives across Vienna. Btw he’s scared of horse carriages. Oh no. Don’t worry, Mark makes sure to lock them in a room with a notable lack of sharp objects. I think when they’re away from everyone else, away from their situation, they feel a lot more comfortable with each other. They’re stuck in a room for the foreseeable future with no one else watching, what is the real point of putting up a front anymore in this situation; this is the man they’re going to be stuck with forever after all, just not in the confines of this specific room. They are both a very specific breed of ultra competitive and devoted, so even though they’re having a perfectly “normal” conversation about literature they enjoyed(Fernando: Machiavelli’s The Prince, he says it's a very good, relatable and interesting guide. Seb: Don Quixote, he told Fernando it reminds him of a certain someone), to everyone outside, it’s like “oh god what is that muffled yelling, are they scuffling???” When they’re not being scrutinized by the rest of the palace and court, I think they can have very calm constructive conversations about running the kingdom(no matter how seemingly competitive they sound.) Also even if Seb cares less about image than Fernando, I think he still definitely puts up a front, it’s just a lot less negative than Fernando; so this situation gives them a situation where they can be their most free and open selves. Yeah yeah they spend time alone together often, like in their bedchamber, but that still has a notable time limit most of the time, and technically one of them could just dip at any moment. So everytime they get conveniently stuck in a room, they come out of it a lot closer and a lot more aligned, and a lot more fond of each other. I say “come out of the room” but more often than not, they’re found passed out, cuddled together on some surface, the furniture and their clothes in disaray. I’ll leave it up to your imagination how they ended up there, and what their state of undress is 🤭

#i could be more dirty with this but i feel very deeply thoughful rn skjldskj #I saw this prompt and of course had THOUGHTS #but yeah genuinely no matter the au i think you could stick them in a room and i think they'd come out of it better and closer than before #it gives them a chance away from whatever situation is at hand and they're forced to see the other just for themselves yknow??#also the book choices are so funny to me #idk i constantly think abt fernando reading machiavelli. especially in this au #him and seb would just have the most intense convos abt it #seb: i think its satire actually. fernando: nah its a guide. i try to follow it as close as possible #<- as if he isnt a huge softy at heart and all that tough machiavellian stuff isnt just a cover #also dying at how different their perspectives on don quixote would be #seb is crying laughing reading it. he cant stop envisioning don quixote as fernando and laughing at the mental image #and fernando across the room reading The Prince is like. what's so funny??????#seb reads him some & nando just has the most befuddled look. like 'he is very honorable no? to have such a sense of honor is admirable yes?#actually half the time theyre found curled together on some lounge chair bcs they were reading to each other and fell asleep midway #<- all sleepily rumpled with the book having fallen to the wayside. their hair all messy and their faces muzzy with sleep #vettonso #catie.asks.#boy king au

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aphmau-prompts · 1 year

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Nana teaches Tatiana how to bake.

#aphmau #Mystreet #Nana Ashida #Tatiana (Aphmau)#prompt #rolling dice #Tatiana is weirded out by kitchen appliances #Nana wondering where tf the others could've possibly met someone who doesn't know what a toaster is #or maybe Nana asks abt what happened at the lodge #I don't see that conversation going well #It could also be interesting to have them talk abt family.#KC wanting to stand out and be different from her siblings #while Tatiana never did but is now stuck as a whole different species #sorry #way too many thoughts

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astranauticus · 6 months

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scrolled through my art tag on impulse and i have not drawn a single fanart of like, VR-LA + somebody else that isn't at least implicit angst. there might be something wrong with me????

#i mean yeah this is funny but also. what the fuck #the kinda silly part is like i've never been particularly successful in fandom before but i've been in fandom for a while and like #yes i've always liked angst this is a Known Fact but i wasnt... Like This #like most of the fanart i've drawn before is just regular silly nonsense #idk there's something about VR-LA/MR-SN that's just #a neverending fountain of angst inspiration i guess #like i joke but also genuinely what the fuck. do you guys want me to draw other stuff??? i feel kinda bad #like i have some other shit in the drafts that's literally just more VR-LA/MR-SN or like old crew angst #like i could totally draw other stuff if like. prompted. i swear #rwd #maybe this will finally get me to start working on that arcane au #idk i realised part of the reason i don't tend to have a lot of headcanons is i intentionally keep like #as much of myself out of my creations as possible #like obviously it's not absolute because what is creation if not tearing out a portion of your soul to put on display #but it just means i actively avoid projecting as much as possible #idk it's a personal thing. there's not that much to it

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ferdydurke · 1 year

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I never liked to travel and i dont have much drive to see new places, like the pictures are ok with me for the most part. But if i had a way to travel id do it for food. Like if i was a dnd character and i had to have a motivation to go adventuring itd be trying different foods... it blows my mind how many ingredients ill never get to try

#barking #this post was prompted by youtube recommending me a vid of someone freezing marshmallow paste #i have always wanted to avoid a situation of being in america but that made me think like damn. i would go to try the food there #not that i cant get my hands on some marshmallow fluff i prolly could but theres a lot of stuff... steak bagel ect ect #we have bagels here but like you know what i mean #and well obviously not a day goes by where i wouldnt sell my kidney to be able to go to china #im trying to figure out so often if there will ever be a situation again where my mom ends up at a chinese airport #id cry with joy. id weep. i miss those jars she brought back so much #i would straight up fly to an airport do shopping and then just go back. itd be worth it for me #and well theres so much stuff. just all the vegetables and fruits and flours youll never try #you can go to a chinese restaurant but it wont ever be the same. like when my mom was telling me about the dumplings she ate in tibet...#the fresh shrimp in spain...#PROSCIUTTO IN ITALY i was fortunate to try that one. heaven on earth.#politically i believe in keeping the produce reagional as much as possible yanno icould survive without being able to buy avocado every day #bad avocado at that. id just love to be able to go and try it yanno in holand is where mine grows!#but i could get my ass over to america for it too #holland. i meant netherlands.

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brettsey-two-tts · 2 years

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Brettsey prompt - “I should’ve been your first call!”

Stella found Sylvie in the locker room staring at her phone. She assumed she was texting Casey, but she was sorely mistaken when she saw the small frown on her face.

Stella stopped in front of her locker and opened it, announcing her presence to her best friend. “Everything okay, Syl?”

Sylvie turned on the bench to face the brunette and revealed an utterly sorrow-filled expression. “Not… entirely.” Stella gave a worried look, so Sylvie elaborated. “I, as painful as it sounds, because it feels incredibly painful… I have to… change my emergency contact. It was Matt and since he moved to Oregon for a few years…” She trailed off, but Stella knew what she was getting at. She knew the emotional turmoil her best friend was going through since Casey moved. She couldn’t expect the blonde to be sunshine and rainbows all the time.

Stella immediately moved to the bench to sit next to Sylvie at the mention and protectively wrapped her arm around her. “Hey, hey,” she said softly and comfortingly. “You don’t have to do this right away, you know. You can take your time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sylvie replied with a long sigh. “But, the last thing I want is for him to get a call from the hospital saying something happened to me. it’ll throw him for a loop and he’ll panic and then call you and Severide. Two-thousand miles is a long way away and I know if he doesn’t get on the next plane out, he’ll beat himself up and blame himself for moving, and I never want him to do that.”

Stella nodded along, completely understanding her reasoning for wanting to do it sooner rather than later. “Then why don’t you put me down? You said so yourself, if it were still Casey, he’d call us anyways.”

Sylvie looked relieved. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stella replied with a beaming smile.

“Thanks, Stella.”

After passing Sylvie’s phone back and forth to properly update her emergency contact number through her medical account, Sylvie felt a little pang in her chest. It was like Matt was disappearing from her life, and even though that wasn’t the case at all, it still felt like it. There were parts of her days that would involve Matt or him in some capacity, but all that was gone, and they were still having some troubles with their call schedule.

Sylvie would later confess these feelings to Matt during a scheduled FaceTime call. She didn’t like the saddened expression on his face when she did, but they promised not to hide anything from each other. It took a couple of weeks to create a call schedule, but as they stuck to it, they remained happily in love.

Stella and Severide were lounging on the couch in their loft watching ‘Is It Cake’. Their competitive spirits were in full swing as they made bets on whether or not some realistically created cakes on podiums were in fact cake. Points were written down on a napkin and as they laughed about a certain cake that Severide thought was indeed cake (it wasn’t), Stella’s phone rang.

Stella did a double-take at the caller ID and felt her breath catch in her throat. Severide caught on and gave his fiancée a puzzled look.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Uh, no,” Stella replied. “Gaffney Medical is calling me.”

He looked confused. “Why are they calling you?”

Stella almost gave him a bone chilling stare. “Because Sylvie switched her emergency contact to me a couple of months ago.”

Stella answered the phone on the last ring and nodded along with the nurse that called her. When she hung up, she sprung off the couch and grabbed her jacket off the coat rack. Severide followed her and shrugged on his jacket.

“Was it Brett? Did they say anything?” Severide asked as he grabbed his keys.

Stella flipped her hair out that was tucked behind her jacket. “The nurse told me Sylvie was in the middle of an x-ray but wouldn’t tell me anything more.”

“Shit,” he swore. After they locked up, they jumped into the elevator, and then he asked the one question that was probably on both their minds. “Do we call Casey?”

As the elevator doors closed, he and Stella shared a quiet yet long stare, unsure what to do.

Stella and Severide walked into the hospital room and immediately saw Sylvie in a hospital gown. She looked a little banged up with a few cuts on her face and arms, but otherwise looked fine.

Sylvie looked confused as she stared at the couple. “What are you two doing here?”

“Med called me,” Stella replied, almost out of breath. “What–What happened to you? Are you okay?” She hovered over her best friend, unsure of Sylvie’s physical medical status. Was it okay to touch her? Did she break something? Was she in pain?

Sylvie looked at her arms and slightly shook her head. “I was coming back from spin class. I was stopped at a red light when this lunatic sped past me, ran the red, and t-boned a minivan. I got out of my car and called 9-1-1 and tried to help the family that was trapped. These cuts are probably from the shattered glass.” She saw Severide’s worried look.

“And the x-ray?” he asked.

Sylvie let out a heavy sigh. “I told them I had some discomfort in my forearm and they insisted on taking an x-ray just to be sure.” She raised her arm and saw small cuts on her forearm. They were very small, but also numerous. She looked regretful as she looked between Stella and Severide. “I’m really sorry they called you guys and made you worry.”

Sylvie expected to see a couple of comforting smiles but was met with some worried frowns. It almost looked like something else was on their minds. Stella and Severide shared a brief look before turning back to Sylvie.

Sylvie’s brows furrowed at her friends’ ominous expressions. “Why do you guys have that look on your face?” she asked with a suspicious and worried tone.

Stella winced at the string of bad news that she was about to tell her best friend. “We-we may have called Casey on the way here.”

Sylvie’s eyes immediately widened at the new, revealing worry and anxiety. Stella could tell what the blonde was thinking because she wasn’t privy to how Sylvie felt about the situation with Casey regarding her overall health and wellbeing, especially if it turned out to be something minor like the situation they were currently in.

“What did you tell him?” Sylvie asked worriedly.

Severide replied with regret in his tone. “That we got a call from Med about you and were on our way.”

Stella let out a small sigh. “The nurse didn’t tell us much when she called me other than that you were getting an x-ray, so we called Casey on our way here thinking the worst happened.”

Sylvie frowned at the thought of Matt pacing back and forth, wondering what happened to her or if she was okay. She knew he was probably holding his breath trying to get a hold of her.

Oh no. Her phone.

Sylvie regretfully closed her eyes as she remembered where her phone was.

“Shoot, I left my phone in my car.” Sylvie could tell that Stella felt bad about the whole thing. “It’s not your fault, you guys,” she reassured them with a hopeful smile. “You were worried and acted on instinct. I’ll call Matt as soon as I’m discharged and explain the whole thing.”

Before Stella or Severide could get a word out, Severide’s phone rang in his pocket. He took out his phone to peek at the caller ID and eyed Stella and Sylvie before answering it.

“Hey,” he began. There was a pause. “Yeah, we’re at Med and she’s right here.” Pause. Some muttering could be heard. “Yeah, she’s fine. Do you want to talk to her?” There was a slight nod before he held out his phone to Sylvie.

Sylvie saw Matt’s name on the screen and flashed a worried frown. “Thanks, Severide.”

Severide ushered his fiancée out of the room to give Sylvie and Casey some time to talk.

“Hi, Matt,” she said soothingly.

“Hey– Severide told me you’re in the hospital.”

She could tell he was out of breath, like he had been holding it for the past hour or so. Her heart crumpled under the weight of her guilt. She didn’t want him to worry about her or take him away from his day to day activities.

“Are you okay?” he asked hastily.

“Yes, yes. I’m perfectly fine. I was helping out at an accident that happened on my way back from the gym, so all I have are some cuts and maybe some bruising. Everything is very minor and I’m in no life threatening danger.” She did everything she could to dissipate the situation as quickly as possible. She didn’t want her boyfriend to spend another second worrying about her. “I’m fine, Matt.” She muttered reassuringly, hoping his heart stopped racing, because she knew it was.

Matt had been switching between pacing in the kitchen and leaning forward against the kitchen counter for the past hour, wishing and waiting for any news about his girlfriend that was two-thousand miles away. If he were still in Chicago, he would’ve been by her side the moment he heard about it. His knuckles flashed white as he kept clenching his fists.

“I should’ve been your first call,” he blurted out. He almost sounded like he was angry at himself.

“Matt…”

“I should–” he stopped abruptly to gather his thoughts. “I want to be there for you.”

“You are,” she reassured him. “Matt, what you’re doing for those boys is important and I don’t want you to think otherwise. Good or bad, things will happen, which we both know it’s out of our control given our professions.”

“I’d hate it if anything happened to you, Sylvie,” he confessed in a single breath, reeling from the thought. “Especially since I’m so far away.”

“I know,” she replied sadly. “I feel the same way about you, but this shouldn’t overwhelm our situation.” The situation being their long distance relationship. “I love you and I want you to live your life over there, not spend every waking minute worrying about someone that’s thousands of miles away.”

He let out a small laugh. She was right; it was best not to worry, and at the same time, not to think about it. “That someone is my girlfriend, who I love very much.”

“And someone who you will be seeing in three weeks,” she replied, hoping the reminder would quell his worries.

He briefly beamed at the reminder. It had been on his calendar at the firehouse for the past couple of weeks, ever since she scheduled her visit. He really couldn’t wait to see her. After this scare, he wouldn’t mind foregoing all of their plans and spending her entire visit in doors, safe in his arms and far away from harm.

“I promise to be careful, Matt.”

“I know.” He let out a long sigh. Thankfully she didn’t follow his lead and swing off aerials or jump off buildings to escape explosions. “Would you also be able to promise me no more hospital visits unless it's for when you drop off patients during shift?”

She laughed lightly. “I will do my best, Babe. I should get going. The nurse said I’d be discharged soon.”

“Okay. I love you, Sylvie. Call me later?”

She smiled; any ounce of time with Matt was time well spent and she really couldn’t wait to see him. She really wanted time to fast forward a few weeks. “I love you, too. I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”

#brettsey #matt casey #sylvie brett #chicago fire #brettsey-drabbles #brettsey-prompts #i always wondered what the writers would do if they decided to put sylvie in danger while matt was in oregon #or are they saving that for next season so they could have jesse come back as a guest star?????????#the possibilities are endless #and yet the writers decide to throw away the paramedicine idea

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