teddy and spencer

Bridgit Mendler was once voted as one of the most annoying celebrities and just because she avoids drama and scandals; that’s so sad. She’s in USC studying Liberal Arts and Anthropology. She also studied Jazz History, Medieval art and Medical anthropology. Not to forget that she became ambassador to First Book, a campaign to encourage reading and gives books to children in need, she’s also a part of Disney’s friends for Change. She released a promotional single  called, “We Can Change the World” and raised $250,000 for the Disney Worldwide Conservation Fund. She won the honorary award Common Sense Media as Role Model of the Year for her work against bullying, she was the third young artist to win the award. She also became ambassador of the campaign Give With Target with Target Corporation to raise funds to reform schools in the United States. They campaign raised $1 billion by 2015. She was featured in a public campaign Delete Digital Drama with the Seventeen Magazine to end cyberbullying.  She also traveled to the United Kingdom to fundraise for Comic Relief, given the aim of making her laugh with their jokes for a £1 donation. The campaign raised £100,000. Bridgit also participated to the World Challenge Marathon for Save the Children Foundation, a charity race to helps children with health problems. She traveled to the region of El Quiché, Guatemala to participate in the other project of Save the Children that helps underprivileged children in developing countries. She has also been in a relationship with Co-Star Shane Harper since 2011 but unless she doesn’t have any drama or scandals she’s irrelevant or annoying to this society.

8

As I lay in bed last I thought about how many people have tried to help me along the way, have helped me, a few a whom are no longer alive. Way more people have tried to help me John, than have harmed me, the harm just seems to leave the deeper mark. Anyway, I’ve always felt such guilt that others were wasting their lives on me, that I was a waste that I was unworthy but last night I didn’t feel that guilt or that I was a waste. I didn’t necessarily feel worthiness but I did feel a kind of responsibility, I guess, at least a desire to try and not let you all down. Then I felt the smallest flicker of not wanting to let myself down, you know? Because somewhere in all this, I’ve managed at times to fight for myself for some reason, pride for my life for some reason. And I survived for some reason. And here I am, still for some reason. And me not knowing that reason doesn’t diminish it or invalidate it, or disprove it’s existence. And that’s what I’m going with today

Airport Fun

This is a fic answering a prompt sent into @omeliafics - loved the prompt and so wrote my own version of it. Hope you enjoy it! I tried to make it as fun, funny and fluffy as possible! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Prompt: Get the cast picture with Amelia, Owen, Riggs, Megan and Teddy. Make up an AU plot for it. It has to be fun, fluffy and cute. No angst and no drama. Why were the 5 of them together? It could be a trip, birthday party of one of the kids, old buddies reunion, etc.


“Typical!” Riggs groaned as he stared at the airport departure board, 
“What?” Teddy responded walking up to him. 
“Our flight is delayed” Nathan explained running his fingers through his hair, “We are stuck here till tomorrow morning as they have rescheduled our flight to 5am. Great! This is fucking great!” he continued to complain as he forcefully kicked a ball of paper someone had left lying around. 
“It’s not that bad Nate!” Teddy tried to reason with him, “We’ll all get food together and I’m sure we will be entertained as Meg and Amelia could talk for America”. 
“We are here sorry we’re late!” Meghan could be heard from behind them, they turned to see her running towards them followed closely behind by Amelia and Owen. “Sorry we’re late” she panted crouching over, Riggs immediately rushed to her side worried she was in pain or there was a complication with her recovery, but in true Meghan style she swatted him away, “I’m panting because we had to run here because apparently the hour before you’re meant to leave for the airport is a great time to practice how to make babies” she rolled her eyes while nodding in Amelia and Owen’s direction “they took so long we left the house 15 minutes late!”. 
“Sorry we’re late” Amelia greeted them quickly hugging Teddy, who wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to Meg candidly sharing way too much information with them. 
“Wow! An hour Hunt? Really, I’m impressed” Nathan laughed while shaking Owen’s hand which just left Owen standing there with a confused look on his face. 
“You told them didn’t you?” Amelia whispered to Meghan while admiring he confused look of her husband’s face 
“Well if I’m not getting any, I’m going to make my brother so embarrassed about it you won’t be getting any either” Meghan winked at her sister in law. 
“Wanna bet?” Amelia teased and within the minute the two had placed $100 on whether Owen would get too embarrassed and put out or not. 

Keep reading

Bad Day

I let myself into the apartment, drop my bag onto a bench by the door, and make my way to the kitchen. I need wine. And a lot of it.

Today has been one of those days. Work had been awful this week - I’d had to fly to Boston to fire half of the staff at an agency that we’d just acquired to make the merger successful. It was the best business decision, and it wasn’t the first time I’d had to do something like this (nor would it be the last), but it never gets easier. It is only now 3:00, but I’ve come straight home from the airport - there was no way I was going into the office. I can’t ‘people’ anymore today. I just want wine and a nice long soak in a bubble bath. And Ed… but he’s in Australia, so that’s not happening. Well, two outta three, Spence.  

Feeding the kitties their dinner, I pick Henry up for a cuddle as I pour myself a glass of Pinot Noir before making my way to the bathroom. Once the water is going and I’ve added in some of my favourite bubble bath, I slip out of my clothes and leave them in a slumped pile off to the side to be dealt with later.

I settle into the fragrant bubbles with a little sigh. Today definitely qualified as a #thisdaytho. On top of the terminations, I’d had an… interesting…phone call on the cab ride home.


Grabbing my phone from the pocket of my coat, I answer - even though the display says ‘unknown caller.” It is about the same time that Ed normally calls, so I assume he’s just phoning from his hotel and not his cell.

“Hey, babe! God, what a day. Your voice is exactly what I need to hear right now.”

“Uh…Spencer?” It’s not Ed’s Suffolk-accented voice that comes through. “It’s me. It’s Logan.”

Jesus Christ. “Logan…god, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. I mean…um…hey.” Get it together, Spence. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah - everything’s fine. Were you…oh. You were expecting a call from someone else.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

Well, fuck. Do I answer that or not?

“It’s fine. What’s up, L? How are you?” Avoidance it is, then.

After a few more minutes of incredibly uncomfortable conversation, we’re somehow having drinks tomorrow.

Ugh.


For fuck’s sake. THAT could have gone better. I toss my purse onto the nearest chair and yank my brand-new Oscar booties off with enough force that it actually stings a little around each ankle. The cats are looking at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind, and quite possibly I have. Taking a deep breath, I try to remind myself that it’s Logan that I’m mad at - not myself. I did NOTHING wrong. Right now, I’m too angry to see past the cloud of fury to know who I’m even upset with at all.

How dare he?

How could he do that to me?

It’s been seven months since our engagement ended, so I’ll be honest - I’d thought (hoped?) that Logan had begun to move on as well, and was reaching out to me from a good place. What I hadn’t expected, at all, was that he would turn on me like that. You kind of do deserve it, Spence - you left him at the altar.

I should have known when he ordered rye whiskey that this wasn’t going to go well - Logan could never handle rye, and only ordered it when he was in a mood. I shouldn’t have stayed past the first drink. Still, he’d seemed civil enough at first, asking about Ash and Dani, and my (still relatively new) job. About the third drink, though, he turned nasty.

“You look good, Spence. It seems like everything’s working out for you - new city, new job,” Logan pauses to toss back the rest of his drink, “…new guy.” His eyes are hard when he looks back at me.

“…excuse me?” I know I haven’t said anything about Ed tonight, or to anyone at home that would have told him.

“Cut the shit, Spencer,” he snaps. “Yesterday. You were clearly expecting someone else to be on the other end of that call, ‘babe’.” He spits that last word at me, throwing it in my face. “I think I have a right to know. Who the fuck is he?”

I take a deep breath and sip of my wine, trying to buy time to work out an answer. “L, I don’t think that we…”

“How long, hmm? How long did you wait to fuck him after you broke my heart?”

I’m…I’m speechless. What the hell? In retrospect, this is when I should have walked out…but I didn’t. Guilt makes you do stupid things, kids.

“Sorry, what? No offense, Logan, but that’s not your business…”

“The fuck it isn’t. You left me, remember?” His voice raises along with his temper. “My heart was and STILL IS invested in you. You’re the one who decided that you were too good for me, or what-the-fuck-ever. Or were you fucking him before you even left?”

“Wow, Logan, no, fuck you. Fuck that. I’m sorry - I’m honestly, I’m really sorry - I should have handled things better - that’s on me and not on you - but it still is what it is. I’ve told you time and time again that I’m really fucking sorry. In the end, I wasn’t happy. You know that. You weren’t happy! You can be hurt and mad at me about that, but even suggesting that I’d cheat on you? Nah… fuck you.”

Absolutely furious, I down the rest of my drink and slam the glass onto the lacquered counter top a little harder than intended. Throwing some cash onto the table, I gather up my coat and purse, leaving Logan sitting there staring open-mouthed as I walk out on him…again.


My phone, which I’d tossed down next to my bag, starts buzzing. It’s face up, so I can see the screen – ‘unknown caller’…again. Thoroughly pissed off, I snatch it up.

“You have got to be kidding me. After how you spoke to me tonight, you cannot possibly think that I would want to speak to you. You’re many things, Logan, but stupid is NOT one of them.”

 There’s a brief pause before, “Something you want to tell me, love?” This time it is the Suffolk-accented voice that I had been hoping for yesterday. But there’s an edge to it that isn’t usually there.

You really gotta stick to ‘hello’, Spence.

“Oh, FUCK. I’m sorry. Hey, love.” I glance at my watch mentally do the time math, and sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing promo? I didn’t expect to hear from you until later.”

“Apparently.” His voice is flat, almost cold. “Since when are you in contact with Logan?”

Fucking hell. “Babe, it’s nothing at all, it’s just…”

“Nah, fuck that, Spence.” Ed sighs through the speaker, but continues before I can get a word in edgewise. “It’s just, I’m out here killing myself, innit? It’s for me, I get that, not for you or anyone else. I signed up for this and it’s my choice, but it’s fucking WORK and I want to be able to take a break and call my goddamn girl.” He sounds exhausted and in my mind’s eye, I can see him - sitting on the sofa in some hotel suite on the other side of the world, one foot tucked underneath him, eyes closed as he runs his free hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end.

He’s not wrong, it’s just…Jesus. I can hear Ed breathing deeply over the phone, like he can’t quite get enough oxygen and can’t quite make sense of everything.

I have to take a second to collect my thoughts - I’m too angry and upset to focus and too caught off guard by Ed’s reaction to think straight. Best just to have out with it.

“Logan called out of the blue yesterday - he’s in town and he wanted to meet, I thought he wanted to, I don’t know, put it all behind us. It seemed like the least I could do after how I… anyway, I thought it would be okay. But it wasn’t. He was awful.” My voice catches and I blink back tears that I refuse to let fall. I will not cry over this anymore.

“Am I supposed…Christ - do you want me to feel sorry for you, Spencer?” Ed’s voice is incredulous. “You have a date with your ex-fiance, which you didn’t bother to fucking tell me about, and you want me to feel bad for you because it wasn’t fun?!”

Apparently someone forgot to tell me it’s National Be a Dick to Spencer Day.

I take a deep breath, trying and failing to push down the white-hot rage that being called a cheater twice in one night, by two different men, has created. “No,” I say calmly. “What I would appreciate is some acknowledgement that us mere mortals can have shitty, stressful days too, Ed. My week’s been pretty shit also, thanks for asking. Oh, and a little trust wouldn’t hurt, either.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, then “If it was nothing, you’d have told me about it, innit? Instead of hiding it. Would you even have told me, if I hadn’t called just now? 

“Of course I would ha - “

“‘Cause I’ll be honest, it feels like you only confessed because you got caught. What would have happened if tonight had gone well, hm? Maybe he’d have come in for a drink - and stayed for breakfast? Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me.” Ed’s tone is bitter.

That’s it. I am absolutely done with this. “Wow, no. Fuck you, Ed. I’m sorry you’ve had a bad day, but just no. No. I don’t deserve this. You know I wouldn’t -”

“How can I know that, hm? I’m gone, halfway round the fucking world. I’m gone more than I’m there. What’s stopping you from hooking up with Logan while he’s there? You were engaged -”

Something in me snaps. “What’s stopping me is that I’m in love with you, you fucking ginger idiot!” Holy shit, Spencer. What did you just do? You did not just use the ‘L’ word for the first time in the middle of a fight. Panicked, I hang up before Ed can say anything.

It’s true, though…


Too much in shock at what I’ve just done to cry or even be angry anymore, I turn my phone off, throw it down onto the sofa and stalk off to my bedroom. Fuck - #thisdaytho is turning into #thisweektho. Still fuming, I decide to take a long, hot shower in the hopes that it will help calm me.

It does, some, and it’s not until the water starts to turn cool that I turn the tap off. My toe gets caught as I’m tugging on yoga pant and I stumble forward, banging my hip painfully against the sink. Can NOTHING go right today?

Rubbing my hip, I know what I need to do. On days like this, there’s one place that always makes me feel better. It’s time to take a trip to Stars Hollow. A Gilmore Girls marathon is exactly what I need. Queuing it up on Netflix, I head to the kitchen to pour myself a drink. As I reach for the open Pinot Noir on the counter, the opening riff of the theme song drifts through the apartment and I feel some of the tension drain out from my shoulders as I hum along. Where you lead, I will follow…

A few episodes later, a knock at the door drags me out of an epic Rory/Paris showdown at Chilton. I pause Paris mid-rant and go to the door, curious. A quick glance through the peephole shows what appears to be an Uber delivery person. Cautiously, I open the door.

“Delivery for Spencer?” The guy holds out a bag from my favourite taco place. Did you actually order food?

“That’s me, but I didn’t…” but he’s already shoved the bag into my hand and is walking away. I shrug as I close and lock the door. Looking at the receipt, it’s my usual order but I honestly don’t remember ordering - I’d thought about it a few episodes ago when Rory and Lorelai visited Yale and went on a massive taco binge…

But no, I haven’t touched my phone since before my shower. Where is it even? Digging around, I find it wedged between the sofa cushions and turn it back on.

Ten missed calls and a few text messages from Ed. Choosing to ignore the voice mail, I scroll through the texts.

Teddy: I’m a prick, pls pick up so I can apologize.

Teddy: Spence, please baby. I’m so so so sorry.

Teddy: I shouldnt have said that to you i know you wouldn’t do that

Teddy: Please, love. I gotta be on stage soon

Teddy: Fair enough. I was a twat. Call when you don’t hate me?

Teddy: Enjoy the tacos - theyre not from Pacos, but I think Rory would approve :)

He sent me tacos. And a Gilmore reference…

The phone in my hand buzzes once more, this time with a call. Ed.

“Thanks for the tacos.” I don’t know what else to say.

Ed chuckles. “You’re welcome. And Spencer? I’m sorry you’ve had a shit week, but I love you too.”


youtube

This makes me so happy. I don’t know why it is so funny to me. 

2

Spencer Hoenisberg + The Teddy Bear

Terrible Things

Now most of the time we’d have too much to drink and we’d laugh at the stars and we’d share everything. Too young to notice and too dumb to care, love was a story that couldn’t compare. I said ‘girl can I tell you a wonderful thing? I made you a present of paper and string. Open with care now, I’m asking you please, you know that \i love you, will you marry me?’’”

- Terrible Things, Mayday Parade

….

He could remember the first moment he saw her. He knew every man said that about the woman they loved, every groom said that about their bride, but he was one of the few he’d believed actually meant it. He could remember the first time he saw her like a flash went off in time and took a freeze frame for him. For him to smile at every single time he retold the story in conversation, or to just think about on those long, quiet nights during the ten years she was gone from this world. His world. Their world.

He was a medical student, a stress case at best, stuck in an existential crisis and suicidal ideated at worst. He was always tired, with harsh lines against the puffiness under his eyes perpetually aging him, sleepless nights and even longer days forcing him to live his life like it were nothing more than going through the motions with immobile limbs. It was hell. Hell on earth.

She was a medical student too. Like him. She wore her hair down, auburn waves looking as though she’d just come from a beach somewhere, despite the fact that they were right in the middle of a frigid Seattle winter. Her makeup was minimal, though there had to have been something she was using, because dark circles didn’t plague the underpart of her eyes like they did his, and the physicality of exhaustion wasn’t her keeper; it wasn’t embedded into her daintily angled features, a soft sharpness to her cheekbones that made her beauty demure rather than striking.

They were coming out of the same ten hour surgery they’d just merely observed, and even though he hadn’t done anything – they hadn’t – he’d felt as though he’d been put through the ringer. He was so tired from being up all night that he felt physically sick, and he was starving at the same time. He’d hadn’t eaten since god knows when, since he drank a large black coffee eleven or so hours before, using it to wash down a pathetic excuse for a blueberry muffin. Because it had been such a long day, he’d decided not to eat, or to sleep, but instead, felt the need to complain.

“How do they do this? I didn’t even operate and I’m spent. I’m starving. And exhausted.”

“Then eat something. Or find an on-call room. Sleep.”

That voice sounded distinctly girlish, yet he knew better not to argue with it. It sounded as though it has never once put up with any bullshit excuses, because it doesn’t tolerate them. It sounded bored with him. It was her. She was bored with him.

“Just stop whining. This is the real deal. Not every med student gets to see something like this. The fact that you’re squandering your opportunity because you’re complaining, because you’re tired, makes me want to hit you. Hard.

“Hit me, huh?” he’d laughed, smirking at her. “Okay. You’re best shot. Go.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, eyebrows raising in what he hoped was intrigue but was probably only disbelief. Most women looked at him that way, then would sleep with him at some point, but this girl, he could already tell, likely wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.

“I’m not going to hit you, moron. What you said makes me want to hit you. Doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it. I’m not a toddler.”

She’d told him, that she wasn’t going to hit him, and she’d kept to her word, then. When they’d began dating a few months later, play fighting with him would become her favorite activity. There were days when her intent was more authentic than others, although most times he’d had enough sense to run screaming depending on where they were. (Okay, he didn’t actually scream, but there were times her little fists would make him legitimately afraid for his life).

“Oh, well then, you could at least tell me your name.”

There was a pause and he’d been wondering if she was ever going to tell him, or if she were thinking up a fake name to give him instead of her real one, like he’d ever know the difference if she had.

“It’s Megan. Megan Hunt.”

He grinned, offering her his hand.

“Megan,” he repeated, letting her name pass through his own lips like it did a second ago from hers.

She didn’t suit any other name, he’d decided, chuckling as he noticed the flush of her cheeks despite the air conditioning throughout the hospital. He’d have her eventually. When he did, halfway through their second year, it actually surprised him. Nothing ever surprised him.

She’d put up a good fight, never letting them lock gazes for more than a few seconds, never letting him walk too close to her, never saying much to him unless it was for the purpose of academia or the good of medicine, but he’d broke her down.

He bought her lunch one day, and she’d actually accepted it, letting him sit with her and occasionally pick at her fries, while they talked about something other than medical school, and she’d laughed and he’d smiled at her, but not once, throughout this whole thing did she let him physically come onto her.

He was forced to try not to stare at the gentle swell of her chest accentuated by the shirt she wore, or the tautness of her thighs and calves, that were obvious even through the jeans she was wearing, with a swirly design on the left back pocket that teased him endlessly.

He finally broke as she was getting up from her seat to throw away her empty water bottle. He watched her walk to the garbage and back, the slender curve of her ass taunting him, making him wish that he could just slip his hand casually in the back pocket of her jeans, while they were talking to their classmates like it was no big deal. She would laugh and pretend to pull away, but really she’d lean into his touch, secretly wanting him to squeeze a little bit, too. He wouldn’t though; instead, he would tune into the conversation again when she started talking about this new study done on something or other, passion in her eyes and ambition in her soul. That was when he realized it. He didn’t just want to shack up with her, he wanted to be her boyfriend too.

He hadn’t been anybody’s boyfriend, or anybody’s anything, since the eleventh grade. Samantha Lawrence. After realizing that he wasn’t going to get any, and that this girl actually annoyed him to no end, he broke up with her. It lasted six months. Six months of his life he’d never get back, and so, he’d decided that he wouldn’t date. He’d only been interested in one thing, and as he got a bit older, that one thing could be gotten as easy as candy from a baby, if you were somebody like him. So, he never had a reason to actually date a girl. Until her.

“I’m Nathan. Nathan Riggs.”

She’d shook his hand and then immediately gestured to an on-call room, and he’d bet that it was only an excuse to turn her head away from him before she did something sexy and telling, like bite her lip or blush an even deeper shade of red. When she’d actually said that she was going to crash, but not that he should too, he was taken aback. She’d started to walk away from him before he could say another word, and he would’ve found it incredibly rude and obnoxious had she not been so incredibly attractive. And she wasn’t even dolled up. Imagine that. He hadn’t known such a woman existed. She’d actually look nice the morning after.

“Before you even ask, you are not coming with me.”

It was like she could read his mind. Sure, he was a man with perverted intentions not all that hard to figure out, but all this time he’d thought he was playing it cool.

“Yeah, don’t play dumb little boy, I could see you checking out my boobs, and I am not that kind of girl.”

“Duly noted,” he called after her, his eyes not leaving her as she walked the opposite direction with another girl in their class, a brunette with petite shoulders and skinnier arms that did surprisingly well in the chest department.

He couldn’t remember her name, but he did remember that she wore a matching black bra and panty set that sent his world spinning. (About four months later, he’d laughed when he and Megan were in the bathroom stall at some rag tag bar, and she was standing in front of him in her navy bra and red panties. It was patriotic – he just couldn’t help it. She’d scowled and proceeded to kiss that smirk right off his face with her tongue).

He’d wondered if she’d told Megan that they’d had sex, twice, in the research lab after hours, and what her reaction was, presuming they were friends. Did she know him before she’d met him? Did she have her own torrid fantasies about being in that girl’s place? About being held down her by her wrists or having her hair pulled, just like in the movies?

He couldn’t help but wonder. In fact, that night, thoughts about it kept him awake, and he cursed her in his head over and over, because he had an exam the next morning. Fucking Megan. Fuck, Megan. Fuck Megan…

The next morning, he was late for his exam. He was late because he had to shower, whether he liked it or not. And to top it off, she was in his class. Fucking glorious.

When Nathan thought about this day now – he totally bombed that exam - and the one before it, when they first met, he couldn’t help but smile against the tears that threatened to screw with his sanity. He couldn’t lose it, not right now. He had to come through for her. If anyone should be losing it right now, it was her.

She’d been the one kept in captivity for ten years. Ten goddamned years. Christ. He couldn’t do anything to remedy that time in her life for her, and that was like a punch to the gut. He needed to apologize to her. The only thing that he could do right now for her was to apologize for being such a fucking dick to her, telling her to just get on that helicopter, basically saying that he didn’t give a shit about what she did because he was too embarrassed about having been caught. The cheating hadn’t been going on long, but still had was going on, and honestly he didn’t regret it when it was happening, but dear god, did he regret it when he’d been caught.

He could hear the tears through the phone, the pitch of her voice betraying her pseudo composure, like she wanted to yell at him. Wanted to scream at him. And she did. Oh, she did. Loudly. He let her though, because dammit did he deserve it.

He let her call him a fucking disgraceful asshole and a pigheaded dick who couldn’t keep it in his pants, because she was upset, and berating him seemed almost cathartic, he could tell, but when she abruptly hung up on him, her words still caught in her throat, he knew that there might be no coming back from this.

That right now, right fucking now, she was leaving him to get on a chopper in a risky attempt to save a boy’s life, and she might never come back to him. Of course, he had thought it in the sense that she would never forgive him on an emotional level, but never in his worst nightmares did he think that she would never physically be there again. That the chopper would never make it, and that she wouldn’t be found when they found it, and her patient, who was dead.

He’d thought she was dead too. He wasn’t led to believe otherwise after years spent looking and nothing had come of it. He couldn’t be. There was just no way she was alive. That was what he’d thought. Now she was here, at Grey Sloan Memorial, and he was here, and he didn’t know what to do, what to say…he would never know what the perfect thing was. He would never know the things that she needed to hear right now, because the Megan he’d been with for their two and a half remaining years of medical school and all those years after they graduated until that day, may very well be a totally different Megan now. With totally different needs.

He still had that stupidly cheesy picture under his bed of them on graduation day, wearing their caps tilted just a little to the left, like the pretentious med school graduate douche bags they were probably quickly to become, with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and a pouty smile on her lips.  Always with that pouty smile. It was something he loved most about her, although there were others, too. With her, he couldn’t just love one thing the most. There were at least three other things that came to him now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were still her things.

The way the skin at the sides of her eyes crinkled when she laughed; the way she would try and make him laugh whenever he was in a crabby mood – or so she’d call it – and she’d make these ridiculous puns which would, admittedly, make him laugh, mostly at the hopeful expression on her face when she’d deliver them; her bedroom eyes (enough said) and the way her hair was mussed in the morning, curls sprouting from her head like those little Cabbage Patch dolls Zola was always playing with.

Zola. Dammit. How could he be thinking about Meredith right now, when the love of his life that he hasn’t seen for ten years was in that room not two feet away? He was thinking about her now because Megan gave him a conscience. Why did she have to give him a conscience?  

Nathan took a deep breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking. They hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d gotten here half an hour ago, anxiously awaiting her arrival at the hospital and waiting to receive word on when she’d gotten situated. He’d received said word via Owen ten minutes ago now, five of which were spent in the bathroom splashing cold water on his face and trying not to pass out from the shock. She was here. She was alive. The other two were spent running here and he’d ran only to stop outside the door and lean against the adjacent wall. There goes the other three minutes. He had to go in. Enough was enough.

When he peeked around the corner, he could finally hear her voice. He could spend another minute on wondering how he could have missed hearing it in the last five that he stood outside her room but he didn’t, because he couldn’t. All that mattered was that he was hearing it now; there was a noticeable absence of heavy sobs and the scratchiness that came with them. She sounded lighthearted and to a fault because how could someone be so calm about this happening to them?

It was so horrific to him, that imagining even the less severe things that could have happened to her over there, made him want to vomit. She could have been shot at, she could have been beaten, she could have been raped, hell, she probably was, many, many, times. It took all he had inside of him not to punch a hole through the wall. No. His little maggot couldn’t have been raped, because the thought of her being sexually abused like that, taken advantage of, made him want to die.

At first, all he could see was half a head of auburn hair, that same auburn hair he’d used to repeatedly card his hands through, his reasons for doing so varying; some were tawdry, some were not, he was sometimes gentle, other times he was not, and it made his breath catch again. She was really here. This was real. And then they locked eyes. He didn’t think he would ever see those eyes again, see them imploring into his own like he was an anatomy textbook to be studied, or something else, something more vulgar, to be seduced. Right now, she was looking at him like she wasn’t at all surprised to see him standing there, which was good, because he remembered that she absolutely hated surprises.

So, she wasn’t surprised, and it was almost as if she wanted to laugh, sitting up in that hospital bed, with the impish grin she’d usually have reserved for two occasions. (One was Christmas morning, as she’d sit with her knees tucked under her legs, watching him open his gift from her; the other was definitely more smutty and he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for thinking about it right now: during their foreplay, when she would always suggest doing a little something to ‘get him going.’ Dear god, did he love it when she would say those words, say those words with that smile, before it would disappear and she’d follow through on her suggestion, without saying anything else).

All he could do was stare. His bottom lip began to tremble like a little boy’s and even though he wanted to be pissed at himself for wanting to cry, he just couldn’t be. Those lustful thoughts disappeared as quickly as they’d came and were replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratefulness and something else so strong that it threatened to knock the wind out of him.

“Hey stranger.”

Then he did cry. He held onto her body, pressed his head into her stomach, and cried. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his eardrum and awaken every sense that his body ever had and could possibly ever have; she was breathing. She was breathing, which meant she was alive. It was as if that would never cease to amaze him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, maggot,” he whispered, but he was so quiet, his voice so soft, muffled even more by her hospital gown, that he wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him.

Maybe he didn’t want her to hear. Maybe he was scared. He was scared that she wouldn’t respond to the nickname how she did before, that maybe she’d be disconcerted by it, unnerved by the sudden intimacy he’d given the two of them, together, in this moment. They’d shared plenty of moments as a couple and strictly as friends, both so long ago now that it made his heart physically ache; ache for the days when it was easy and fun and even more for the days that weren’t so much of either, because those meant that they really cared about each other, that they cared enough to fight for something that was worth saving.

Sh, It’s okay,” she’d began, but then her voice broke as she gasped. “It’s okay. I’m okay, I’m – she stopped to grimace. “Okay, ow. You’re going to have to – ow.”

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked her, lifting his head only slightly from her chest. The beating of her heart was still ringing in his ears; that thump-thump of blood circulating was an addiction quite like nothing he’s ever experienced. Not even a couple shots of whisky could match the crazy euphoria he felt each time he could hear her heart, beating once, twice, seventy-two times each minute. There was nothing like it to him, nothing like it in this world.

“There was a bombing six months ago. I took some shrapnel. There were post-op complications, it didn’t heal so well.”

When he saw that wound, that open, gaping wound, he didn’t know what to do. She’d been living with that for six months? Really though, was he all that surprised? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he shouldn’t be. This was his girl. His girl, who did a hernia repair on a cadaver with a broken pinky. A flawless hernia repair, actually. It was third year. Harvard Medical School.

Sure, she was attractive to him the day they met, and every day after that, but when she became something else to him, something other than just another hot girl, something more than his girlfriend, his arousal nearly combusted. She became his competition. Quickly. Their profession was cut-throat, and he wasn’t going to mess around. She got that. And neither was she, apparently.

Her face was fresh from the shower, red from the cold, her hair still damp down her shoulders. She was wearing a wool coat that day, some sort of sexy thing that went down to her thighs, and on her hands were gloves but when she took them off, the splint on her finger was a hard thing to miss.

“Uh, babe? I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you have a splint on your pinky finger.”

He knew better than to ask what she did, or how she did it. Megan was a klutz. In the nights he’s stayed over, he’s seen her drop frying pans, burn herself while making cookies, with oven mitts on (while also mocking the mundanities of stay-at-home moms, or housewives, somewhat ironically), and trip up the stairs (she’d claim she was drunk for this one, but he didn’t buy it).

Once, he’d asked her how she’d broken her ankle in the eighth grade, because in her class photo she sported a full blown cast, with crutches that were too small, and she’d become very irritated that he was asking her what he thought was an honest question. After taking a deep breath as he laughed at her reaction, she begrudgingly told him that she tripped on the incline of a ramp, not expecting the hill to be there. She ended up rolling her ankle as she fell and was alone. That, he found out later, also happened to be the moment she knew that she wanted to be a doctor. Not the profound moment he’d been expecting, and he told her that too, only to be socked in the shoulder, not once, but twice.

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“And you know we’re doing hernia repairs today, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled in response, the type of smile somebody would get if they were correctly predicting how fate would happen. This fate, he’d realized once the lab was over, was that she would kick his ass when it came to precision, with a broken finger.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, turning his attention to his cadaver as she sat beside down beside him and touched her lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Good luck, Nate,” she whispered, her breath warm despite the temperature everywhere else.

“You too, Meg,” he responded somewhat distractedly, noticing just how close her tongue was to the inside of his mouth. He’d only have to move his head a few inches to the left…

Then, she abruptly moved away so that there was a respectable, professional, space between them and he cursed multiple times under his breath.

“You need it more than I do,” she said to him, just as their instructor told them to begin and he was forced into silence, forced to do absolutely nothing about those pursed lips of hers and repair that hernia.

Looking at her now, looking at that wound, of course he was worried about her. For her. He needed her to be okay. There was no other way around it. Selfishly, she needed to be okay for him. He couldn’t lose her, not again. Not ever again. He bent down and kissed the top of her head, leaving his lips there for a moment and feeling the warmth of her. Her warmth. She wasn’t cold, she wasn’t lifeless, and she wasn’t dead.

And she wasn’t his girl anymore, either. He realized this with a sinking feeling, that ten years had kept them so far apart, that what they had seemed lost. The thought made him want to cry some more, but he didn’t because he was a man, and because the way she was staring at him made him believe that maybe, just maybe, what they had could be found again.

Kissing her forehead this time, if only to feel an even greater warmth, to feel her skin again, to feel her skin against his skin, it felt natural. It felt as if he were rectifying some old physical feeling, lost and never to be found in the depths of warping time, and now here she was, with him, close to him; that was something he’d counted on never feeling again, but to feel it right now, was like he’d never felt it before. In the best way.

“We’ll fix you,” he said, leaning back from her in hopes to lessen her pain a little. “I promise, maggot.”

“Thank you,” she whispered to him with a smile, then her eyes cut towards her brother and his wife. He could tell that she wanted them to leave, to leave the two of them be, alone, but it became a question of whether or not she had the heart to actually say it.

Knowing Owen, he’d want to be by his sister’s side twenty-four seven, and knowing Megan, she knew that too, and wouldn’t really want it. She loved her older brother, he could see that but it was just a matter of protectiveness; she’d always told him that she sometimes felt completely smothered by him, as if Owen weren’t just her brother, but her father, too. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he readied himself to say what she so clearly wanted to on her behalf, before she beat him to it.

“Hey, bub?” she asked, stopping Owen in the middle of his sentence. Not with the utmost tact, but it didn’t look like Owen seemed to mind. He’d actually stopped talking altogether, rather quickly, thwarted in the least bit by the physical act of her interruption and more so by what Megan had said. Hey bub.

Nathan could remember that sweet little girl with freckles messily dotting her nose and cheeks, with mousy hair and an exhaustive personality. He remembered her well. Little Meg was insane, with this loud, crazy giggle and the biggest toothy grin. She looked up to her brother like he was God and believed in every word he said and ever would say. When she was just learning how to talk, it was apparent more than ever that she craved his attention, those bright, optimistic, hazel eyes glancing up at him from underneath willowy lashes. “Bub, look! Birds! Look! See?”

The Hunt’s collection of home movies spanned over eight years of Megan’s life, twelve years of Owen’s, and he remembered on one holiday break -  it was probably Thanksgiving, because the house smelled heavily of rosemary and sage, he and Megan curled up on the couch that entire weekend, and watched every one.

He was lucky enough to see Megan be born (although that was one thing he would rather not see again, even as she seemed not at all phased by the whole ordeal), see her take her first steps to her Daddy and ride her first bike. He got to see her seventh birthday party at a bowling alley, which Owen had crashed and was trying to guess some of her presents by shaking them, which earned an exasperated - “come on, bub, really? It’s my party” - and the championship softball game two years later, in which the catcher got some serious outs.

Right at this moment, Owen looked just like he did at that bowling alley on that grainy video, except his curls were a little less raggedy and his face was a little less smooth, lined now with papery wrinkles that he knew his own skin couldn’t escape from. He looked dejected, but still, nonetheless, like he understood. That man always understood.

“Yeah, okay. And Megs? Call me if you need anything okay? Anything at all. Promise?”

She laughed, shaking her head and put her hand on top of his that was holding the bed rail.

“I promise. Now please,” she gestured between the two of them, and Nathan couldn’t help but smile.

He was finally going to get to be alone with her for the first time since she got here. Alone with her since the first time he saw her. The first time he saw her again after ten years. After ten years of thinking she was dead.

Once Owen left with Amelia in tow, but not before leaving a kiss on her head in a bid of sweet goodbye, he cleared his throat. It came out a bit more broken than he’d anticipated, and he felt his face go warm.

“Nathan I – “

“Can I talk first? Please?”

He asked this of her hurriedly, afraid that she might say no, and that he’d never get to explain himself. To say his side. The lines drawn may have faded after ten years, for her maybe, but not for him. If anything, they got sharper. They got deeper. They swallowed him whole.

“No.”

And then she kissed him. The kiss was slow, but not in a sexy way; it was slow in a way that made him feel like she was running her tongue over the smooth skin of his lips ten times over, like she wasn’t sloppy with her aim, but cautious, and a little too gentle; her mouth stayed moulded to his, not once did her top lip glide across his philtrum like it would usually. Would have, he recognized a moment too late when she separated from him.

“Woah.”

In the ten years that they’d missed together, that she’d missed with him, and he’d missed with her, she would have been kissing him that way. She hadn’t though.

“Yeah,” she breathed, puffing out her cheeks and letting out a deep breath.

Because she was kept captive. Because she was taken from them. Taken from everybody that had been in this room, her own brother, Amelia, who hadn’t even gotten a chance to meet her as her brother’s freaking wife, and him. She’d been taken from him, and that was still a feeling of pain so brutal, so deeply embedded in his every move during his life on this earth, that sometimes, especially during the early days, it would take all he had, and more that he didn’t have, to raise his head off of the pillow and open his eyes.

“I didn’t deserve that. Why did you do that?”

During those first few months, he wanted to die too. Oh god, did he want to. He’d felt so guilty, so lost, so suffocated by his mourning and piteous grief, that he didn’t talk to anyone. Not her brother, who hated his guts, not her mother, who would look at him with this insurmountable disappointment and the effort it took not to blame him -  not to blame him for practically making her get on that helicopter, that he couldn’t bear to speak to her, either.  For him, her love had once and for years been his vice. His vice of choice. When she was gone, too far gone to love him, or even to hate him, too far gone to feel anything at all for him, whisky took her place.

It didn’t help him heal. It never did. Not even at his lowest, most drunken moment. It only helped him suffer a little bit less. So, he stopped, before it got to be a problem. He’d remembered that Megan hadn’t fallen in love with an alcoholic; she had fallen in love with a sober, dominate man, half of his class an ostensible facade because of his accent (the very same one he allowed her to think was English, for six months, before awkwardly correcting her at dinner with her family).

“You didn’t deserve that?” He could see that, like his, her brain and her body were still reeling from that kiss. It was a hell of a kiss. “Why not?”

He shook his head in response, running his hand through his hair as he sighed. He was careful not to move any closer to her, but didn’t really want to move further away, either. So he stayed where he was, in a chair touching her bedside. The shift in their feelings was hard to place, but he knew that there was one, and didn’t want to disturb whatever it was and so he stayed silent for a few extra seconds.

“Why did you kiss me? You don’t…you don’t hate me?”

He hated how emasculate he sounded, his voice too quiet, too soft, too fearful as he awaited her answer. He really thought that she’d hate him. To be totally honest, he hated himself most of the time.

Then, she laughed. She laughed. It was subdued, but it was there. She laughed, and he was reminded of the corny jokes he would tell, only to her, and the pity she would give to them, with an earthy, mellifluous laugh. “Meg, why don’t oysters give to charity?” “I don’t know, why?” “Because they’re shellfish.”

“Nathan, I don’t hate you. I did, for a few weeks there, want to cut your balls off with a Swiss army knife, but I never hated you.”

He raised an eyebrow, rubbing little circles around her IV incision with his thumb.

“Maggot, don’t you lie to me,” he told her, looking down just as she looked more inquisitively at his face, at his paled skin and his shining eyes as they were filling with tears.

Stupid tears. He was a man for Christ sake. He’d been in the war. He’d been shot at. Targeted. He could take a woman staring at him. Just not her. Like that.

“I’m not,” she said, taking her other hand and lifting his chin up. “Babe, I never hated you. How could I when love is such an opposite feeling? I loved you, Nathan Riggs. And I still love you.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. “You do? Really?”

She nodded. “Ten years is a long time to get over something, Nate. I was too busy fearing for my life to care about what you said or did, or didn’t do or didn’t say, but once I could breathe again, I thought about it.

“Actually, do you have any idea what it was like for me to not know why you did what you did? To not know if you loved me enough not to do it again, or to not know if you even loved me enough in the first place and that’s why you – “

“Oh Megan…” he practically cooed, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh. Dammit. He really wanted to kiss her again, but that was off the table, now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

He saw the look in her eyes. She knew why he was sorry. He didn’t have to say why. He didn’t have to relive it. Although, he would, for the rest of his life, if it meant that she would have the relief from it that she wanted. That she needed.

There was an empathy there, as if she could feel his guilt, feel it weighing her down like it weighed down his physical soul every, single, damn day. There was also a silvery glint cutting across the hazel of her eyes, and it was either a reflection of the transparency in the mid-afternoon sun, or something that said ‘you have every right to hurt, you bastard.’ If he were to gamble, he would say that it was a bit of both, and he’d be damned if he didn’t swallow his pride and take it like a man.

“I was scared, okay? I was – “

“Megan?”

That voice stopped them both, although neither of them actually moved from their position, foreheads still touching. She moved back first, relaxing again into her pillow and gesturing for the person to come in. He moved back too, settling into the chair as that voice spoke again and he turned to look.

“It’s time for you to go in now. Are you ready?”

Meredith was the perfect picture of composed, as she always was, never to let her professionalism waver in front of a patient; even if said patient happened to be her – he didn’t know what they were exactly, even less so now, but still, even if this patient happened to be his fiancée that had been presumed dead. Well, she wasn’t really his fiancée anymore. She wasn’t a lot of things to him, anymore, was she?

From on the bed, he heard her laugh. That laugh wasn’t just any laugh though. That was her nervous laugh. After ten years, he could remember how it sounded. He remembered it better than a lot of other things. Other, less important things, like, sometimes, what his own name was. It was a pitchy, disingenuous sound; it was almost like she was actually afraid to laugh, instead of its causal fear. Hearing it again made him want to hug her and whisper that it would all be okay. Like he did during their intern testing.

When they dropped hands at all that morning it was only to go into the classroom. He could tell their resident was a bit annoyed with the two of them but he didn’t particularly care. She needed him. He could tell. Even though she kept trying to tell him the opposite, because that’s just who she was. He wanted her to need him because that’s just who he was. So, she let him.

All morning, they would test each other when given the chance (in between calm-down make out sessions in the locker room) and they were prepared as they were ever going to be come exam time.
“You’ve got this. I know you do. So go in there and kick some intern exam’s ass.”

She laughed as she kissed him, her breath warm against his mouth, and then told him the same thing.

“I love you,” she added as an afterthought, with that laugh bubbling up again.

“Whatever happens in there, I’ll still love you. If you fail out and never become a surgeon, I’ll still love you. If I fail out, would you still love me?”

“Of course, Meg.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced, but there was a semblance of a smile.

“Even if I become a veterinarian and spend my days removing quarters from stomach after stomach of dog after dog because I wasn’t good enough to work on humans?”

He chuckled. “Even if. Now shut up. You’re going to be great.”

“So are you.”

Those were her last words to him before they went in to that room. Before they were handed their exam booklets and were told to begin, before he got to question 34, and was abruptly interrupted half way through reading, by the sound of muted laughter.

It stopped as quickly as it started, but began again a few minutes later. He knew that laugh. Crap.

He caught her eye very discreetly, just as she covered her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, after biting her lip.

‘Crap’ she mouthed, as she pressed her lips together, but as a hum emanated, a stifled laugh, she opened her mouth again to smirk at him. Why was she smirking!?

“I can’t stop,” she whispered from her seat in front of his, her body turned so she was still facing him like she was before. “Help me.”

He looked up at the clock. They had just over two hours left.  Before reaching out his hand for her to grab, he made sure that the invigilators were somewhat distracted. Risky move, but she needed him.

“Hey, Megan, stop. Okay?  Look at me.”

She stared at his hand for a second as her laughing subsided and then took it in her own.

“Now what?”

He squeezed her palm. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not. Not for you. You know this stuff like the back of your hand. Like you know your own name. What’s your name?”

She was staring at him like he was crazy and he noticed for the first time that day that her hair was back in a ponytail, so that he could see that little dark mole on the side of her neck that he kept begging her to get checked.

“Just tell me your name.”

She sighed. “Megan. What does this – “

“Your full name, Meg.”

She sighed again and he kept her focus by squeezing her hand again, until she answered him.

“Megan Lauren Hunt. Now why – “

“Alright, Megan Lauren Hunt, what is the optimal medication used to treat hypercalcemia? On the example case we studied.”

“Prednisone, obviously.”

“See?” he grinned at her. “You know it. You know it well. Now finish your exam and then we’ll go out to celebrate, because I’m that confident in you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she sighed with a small, pathetic smile, then repeated herself as she turned away from him. “Okay.”

After that, there was no more laughing. Not until later that night, when she was three drinks deep and he was mauling her neck with kisses at the bar.

“She’s ready, Dr. Grey,” he told Meredith, who was looking at Megan with compassion, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of her nerves, or if it was because of her entire circumstance.

“No, Dr. Grey. Don’t listen to him. Listen to me. Your patient. Who’s not ready, okay?”

He turned to look at her. “Meg, why? You’ve been hyped up about it ever since you talked it through. If anyone should be nervous, it should be me.”

“Are you?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “Because if you are, that makes me feel better.”

He chuckled, kissing her forehead. “You’re Satan.”

She laughed too. “And you love me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He did, of course he did, and he always would, but with Meredith right there, it seemed tactless to say it. And he wasn’t, at least he thought he wasn’t, that kind of guy. So instead, he just hummed without contention as he kissed her cheek.

He and Megan had never been an overtly affectionate couple, at least, never a lot in public. His opinion was that the reactions of other people, those they knew or didn’t really know, cheapened the action somehow, whether it be verbal or physical. As far as he knew, she shared the same view, but now it seemed as though the amount of affection they could pour over each other was infinite, and the place or the time didn’t stop them from showing it. Not anymore. They’d taken unbelievable advantage of it before; every kiss and every ‘I love you’ was said and done without any looks ahead, as if either of them could predict the future.

“Okay,” Meredith stated after a minute of silence that they must have all acknowledged but just let pass. “Are you ready now?”

She held her gaze on his face for a minute, he could feel it, and when he actually looked at her, and away from Meredith, she smiled. “Yeah.”

….

So that was the first part! Italics were flashbacks, FYI :) Let me know what you think and if I should write more! :)

Airport Fun - The Holiday

Over two months ago now, I answered a prompt sent into @omeliafics and Airport Fun was born. All of your responses were so sweet and I received so many messages asking for a Part Two. I wrote Part Two and again you guys were all so lovely and sent even more requests for a Part 3. I finally wrote Part Three and I really hope you enjoy it! While you are reading this I will be on a 12 hour flight, which is also flight 2 of 3 in 24 hours so I am sorry if I don’t answer messages. @ultrafreakyfangirl it’s been a long time coming but here you go! 

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

IN CASE YOU MISSED THEM, OR THEY GOT LOST IN YOUR FEED: AIRPORT FUN & AIRPORT FUN - THE FLIGHT



“Morning.” Amelia’s soft, yet slightly raspy, morning voice filled Owen’s ears as she rolled over and wrapped her arm around his stomach, resting her head upon his chest. He lazily ran his finger over her shoulder as he turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“Morning.” He smiled. Neither bothered to look at the clock they just wanted to relish in the feeling of having nothing to do but spend time with each other. Most of that time would preferably be spent naked.
“How about you join me in the –“ Amelia began to dot kisses across his skin when all of a sudden Megan stormed into their room.
“This is great! This is fucking great!” She yelled throwing herself down on top of her brother and his wife.
“MEGAN GET OUT!” Owen sat straight up glaring at his sister, who simply rolled her eyes at him.
“I don’t care if you’re naked Eeyore, but from the amount Amelia goes on about it I’m sure your junk is spectacular - I’m a very proud sister!” As she spoke Owen wrapped himself in a robe and dragged his feet into the bathroom. “Oh yay!” Megan exclaimed handing Amelia a t-shirt she found on the floor and slipping under the covers next to her.

Keep reading

‘Grey’s Anatomy’: Meet the 6 New Interns for Season 14 | THR

And sorry, Jo, “Glasses” is sticking around.

ABC’s Grey’s Anatomy is repopulating Grey Sloan.

The Shonda Rhimes medical drama has cast six relative newcomers to play interns on the current 14th season. All six actors are making their first trip to Shondaland and will each appear in multiple-episode arcs. They will make their debut in Thursday’s episode.

Jake Borelli, who has already appeared in the first two episodes of Grey’s this season, will continues on as Levi — aka “Glasses,” the intern that Jo (Camilla Luddington) slept with. Borelli (The Thundermans) is repped by TalentWorks and Discover Management.

Rushi Kota will play Ethan. Repped by Daniel Hoff Agency and Karen Forman Management, his credits include a recurring role on CBS’ Extant as well as Freeform’s Famous In Love.

Jaicy Elliot is playing the role of Taryn. Elliot is a recent graduate from Meisner school in Santa Monica and Grey’s is her first credit.

Alex Blue Davis is playing Casey. His credits include NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles and 2 Broke Girls. He is with SDB Partners and Frontline Management.

Jeanine Mason is portraying Sam. Her credits include ABC’s short-lived Of Kings and Prophets and Freeform’s Bunheads. She’s with 3Arts Entertainment, Joseph Le Talent Agency and Gang Tyre.

Rounding out the intern class of season 14 is Sophia Taylor Ali as Dahlia. Her work includes MTV’s Faking It and Blumhouse’s upcoming Truth or Dare. She’s with Innovative Artists and Industry Entertainment.

The Grey’s Anatomy newbies will make their debut in Thursday’s episode, titled “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head.” During the episode, Amelia (Caterina Scorsone) confronts a difficult situation, while Meredith (Ellen Pompeo) deals with the fallout from her conversation with Nathan (Martin Henderson). Maggie (Kelly McCreary) finds herself at an awkward family dinner, Jackson (Jesse Williams) receives big news, and Richard (James Pickens Jr.) and Bailey (Chandra Wilson) search for the stars of tomorrow.

The sextet joins Grey’s after series regular Jerrika Hinton exited at the end of season 13. The series has often repopulated its ranks with new interns, with Giacomo Gianniotti’s Andrew DeLuca the most recent intern to be promoted to series regular. Series regular Jason George (Ben) is also poised to transition to the upcoming firefighter Grey’s spinoff later this season with those characters poised to be introduced in an upcoming episode of the flagship.

The additions come as Grey’s has welcomed back Kim Raver’s Teddy and tapped Abigail Spencer as Owen’s presumed-dead sister Megan; both are appearing in multiple episodes this season. Krista Vernoff has also returned to Grey’s as co-showrunner this season, which has drawn early praise for honoring its past, moving story forward and bringing back the show’s signature banter.

Airport Fun - The Flight

Yesterday I posted Airport Fun in response to a prompt sent into @omeliafics Everyone’s reviews were so complementary that I decided to follow @toevenexist & @bafy-usy requests for a part 2. I hope you enjoy this as it’s following the fun, fluffy and cute theme of Part 1. If you enjoy this Part as well I might write another… 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕


“Clear skies ahead, look like this will be a very smooth flight ladies and gentlemen. So please sit back and let our first class cabin crew take care of your every need!” the Captains voices filled the airplane. 
“I’ve got an itch the cabin crew definitely can’t take care of” Amelia whispered in Owen’s ear before kissing his jaw line. Resting her chin upon his shoulder she stared at him nibbling at her lower lip a little, something she knew always turned him on. 
“Oh yeah?” Owen smiled cockily raising one eyebrow at her, turning his head and brushing his lips softly against those of his wife. 
“Want me to take care of it Shep?” Meghan poked her head through the gap between her brother and sister-in-law’s seats. 
“Do you ever mind your own business?” Owen groaned, turning a little in his seat to face his sister. 
“Sorry Meghan, tried it before but girls don’t do it for me” Amelia answered, chuckling at the sight of her husband’s ears turning pink. 
“I like really you” Meghan grinned “you don’t filter either”. 
“Did I hear something about some girl on girl action?” Riggs asked excitedly standing up and leaning over the back of Amelia’s seat. 
“You wish” Meghan rebutted, as Amelia hit him round the back of the head with her in-flight menu. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head Riggs turned to Owen 
“A guy can hope right?” he smirked, before ducking away from Amelia’s swinging arm.  

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anonymous asked:

o boi can u hit me up with some Eliot Spencer headcanons?

Hello yes come in and let me yell at you about my favorite porcupine teddy bear, Eliot Freaking Spencer. I love this boy and also his actor, Christian Kane.

To start with, Christian Kane also played Lindsey McDonald on Angel, so my favorite thing is the twin/past name trope. Why yes, I am predictable, thanks for noticing. But that could bring the Buffyverse supernatural into Leverage, and isn’t that fun?

Random canon facts with headcanon extrapolation below the cut:

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10

Another batch of doodles owo\
Top to down, left to right:

- Guilmon. He’s my fave <3
- Some people used to give Chespin and evos smack (maybe still do) but I love this Pokemon she was my starter and she’s wonderful~
- Joel and Aiden. When life is hard but you’re doing okay but it ain’t foolin’ no-one.
- Random Dorca ;D
- A teenage Dylan in a ‘slice of life high school’ 'verse. He’s less muscular than he would be in the comic because he doesn’t need to fend for himself.
- Maskur doing some BOINGS
- @sirinathevulpem‘s little Digimon babu
- Teddie believes in you! YOU CAN DO THE THING
- Ravi and Fineas had a mask swap ;D
- A skinny alien babu because poor child QuQ/

Enjoy, peeps!

Digimon © Toei Animation
Pokemon © Nintendo
Baby Digi (iforgethisnameahaha) © @sirinathevulpem
Teddie/Persona 4 © Atlus
Ravi © @yuunic
Spencer © @20bluepancakes
Joel,Aiden,Dylan, Dorca, Maskur, Fineas © Me

14x01 - “Break Down The House"

Everything we know about tonight’s episodes.

Meredith and the team are focused on helping Owen’s sister after her shocking return, and Amelia faces a conflict over a patient. Meanwhile, Bailey is forced to give Grey Sloan a facelift after the fire, and the doctors are introduced to a few new faces that spice things up around the hospital, on “Grey’s Anatomy,” THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28 (8:00-9:00 p.m. EDT), on ABC.
Written by Krista Vernoff and directed by Debbie Allen.

14x02 - “Get Off on the Pain”

Meredith struggles to come up with a new plan for Owen’s sister. Jo makes a surprising choice regarding Alex, and Andrew’s sister’s controversial research leads to a shocking discovery, on “Grey’s Anatomy” THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28 (9:00-10:00 p.m. EDT) on ABC.
Written by Krista Vernoff and directed by Kevin McKidd

Guest starring is Kim Raver as Teddy Altman, Abigail Spencer as Megan Hunt and Stefania Spampinato as Carina DeLuca.


@croianam replied to your post: ❝ You’re a catch! It’s true. You know, I’m…

I hope you both know that the majority of my effort goes towards following these two idiots

are you talking about spencer and teddy or me and tj