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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Jan 25, 2014 13:08:13 GMT -5
Dylan was used to long shifts and seemingly endless days, but today seemed worse than before. He had spent ten hours in surgery and then there were rounds to make and paperwork to catch up on, as well as reading over the charts for two new patients who were now under his care after being referred from other doctors. It was late by the time he finally managed to step out of his office and even later by the time he reached his bike. On his way out a nurse had stopped him to check over another chart that was practically illegible. All he wanted to do was to grab a shower and get out of his professional clothes, drink something that wasn't bad coffee and actually sit down to enjoy some food. He had been eating on the go today, knocking back bad drinks faster than he ought to and now it was taking it's toll in aches and pains from his shoulders all the way down his body.
There was a lot of traffic on the way back to his apartment building and Dylan was cursing behind his visor each time he was stopped by a red light or a cab pulling out in front of him unceremoniously. If he was prone to foul moods then he would have most definitely been in one by the time he parked his bike. Fortunately, Dylan just grew tired when things irritated him and so he slumped in the elevator, head back against the cool metal while the box carried him up the flights to his floor. Keys already in hand, he wasted no time at all in opening his apartment door and slipping inside where relief instantly flooded through him. Usually he took a detour to visit Bridget next door, but tonight he just needed to get inside and get back to feeling more like Dylan and less like Doctor Griffin. A five minute shower and Dylan changed into an outfit he would usually wear if he was heading out onto his balcony to touch up the cabinet he had been reviving. It was too late for power tools and he didn't think he'd even have the energy to make much progress with anything else, so he had to settle with throwing together a panini for his dinner and grabbing his usually glass of whiskey that rounded off any and every long day the neurologist had.
He was sitting down, the dogs scampering around in the hopes for scraps and their own dinner to be served, watching some old movie he had found on the television. Dylan didn't really have plans to stay away long enough to get invested in the plotline, but he needed something to help his mind shut off after a day of medical jargon and looking at people's brains. In some ways he was lucky that he wasn't in the hospital first thing tomorrow. He only had his outpatient clinic session, but that started at 12pm, so he wasn't watching the minutes tick by right now, thinking about how he really ought to be in bed and asleep by now. That was usually what happened whenever he was due in work for the earliest shift and usually when he was facing a full day or surgery too. Right now there was a regular structure forming in his shifts, which he appreciated more than he really let on to others. He didn't want to seem like he had been bothered by it before. Once he was finished eating, he quickly moved to wash up and to dish out the dog dinner for his crazy pups. Had he any energy left at all he probably would have taken them for an extra late night run for all of their benefits, but Dylan was truly done for the day.
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Feb 2, 2014 2:35:40 GMT -5
It felt like just yesterday they were in Belfast, seeing the sights and meeting Dylan’s family and now they were back in New York and life was resuming as normal. It was a little strange, stranger that it was still a couple weeks away from the start of classes and she had nothing to do with her time since she had finished everything she had needed to before she even left for Nevada. All she had left was to review what she had planned for the new classes but that could wait until the week before, when she did a quick run through the of beginning speeches as she did every year because she wanted to grab the attention of her students and show them that the next few months were going to be anything but boring.
She spent her morning cleaning her entire place and tossing out what she didn’t need any more and what probably should have been tossed out long before then but was put off for another day; like her dead plants for instance. She was a terrible procrastinator when she wanted to be. Then, she got herself dressed in clothes she wouldn’t mind being seen in public wearing and used the spare key to Dylan’s place to get his two dogs as well. If she was going to tire out one set, she may as well tire out both, plus being stuck in the apartment all day with no socialising wasn’t always a good thing. She had the time, she was willing so she took them along to the park for the afternoon and brought them back exhausted. She chuckled softly as she unhooked their leashes and they dragged themselves over to Dylan’s bed. They looked so worn out, she didn’t even have the heart to tell them to get down, while her own were already curled up in the hall waiting for her to let them in.
By the time she got home though, she was left with nothing to do and too much energy in her to do something. She didn’t know when Taylor was getting off work or if it was her day off or what but she texted her and was happy to get the response she did. It gave her a couple hours before she had to be over to her friend’s place, so she curled up in her oversized leather wingback for an hour with one of her favourite books and ignored the world until her alarm went off reminding her of her plans for the evening. She showered, dressed and after tossing what she would need in her bag, she left. Dinner and drinks out was exactly what Bridget had needed. When she’d gotten home though, it had been a while since the dogs had been out, all of them again and despite the late hour, she decided to take them all out again.
She didn’t know about Dylan, whether he was home or not or if he was up early in the morning but she didn’t want to be woken up at the crack of dawn to take her little monsters on a walk. Summer was her vacation and she wanted to enjoy it. So she switched her outfit for something more comfortable and clipped leashes to collars before grabbing the spare key once again and letting herself into Dylan’s apartment. She hadn’t known when or even if he would be home that night and was pleasantly surprised to see him. “Hey, I didn’t know if you would be home.” She said, shutting the door behind her. “Long day?” She asked, taking a closer look at him as she approached and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Feb 9, 2014 17:09:53 GMT -5
Belfast seemed like such a long time ago now. Dylan honestly wouldn't be able to believe that they had only been back in New York for a short while, especially when he was feeling this run down. People who felt the way he did right now were often the ones to declare that they needed a break, a tropical island, or just somewhere far away from the norm. Dylan had already had all of that, enjoyed it all until the very, very end and now being back in his reality seemed to have zapped it all from him again. He knew the feeling would pass, maybe even by the morning, but right now he didn't feel like he had been away from New York at all. These days came and went and he had them under the “con” list for his profession. However, the pros still triumphantly outweighed them, even when it honestly didn't feel like it. If Dylan didn't have his long day habits to follow, which his ma jested he had inherited from his father, then Dylan would have come home and just collapsed on his bed within ten seconds of closing the front door.
That just wasn't Dylan though. Even now when he felt the dull throbbing beginning at the back of his right eye he couldn't take himself to his bedroom and fall into the large bed there. He needed his time to unwind and let the day go; sometimes that meant he had to stumble to bed with a roaring migraine rather than passing out before the pain could become unbearable. It was something he was used to, and had been since he was a teenager, so he rarely ever complained about it or let it get the better of him. Sometimes he could push through it to get things done and other times he could barely lift his head from the pillow without feeling nauseated. However, he wouldn't be the one to moan about something like that. It was just “a thing” that happened to him and something he coped with when one did slap him in the face.
He didn't really get a vacation like Bridget. His had to be scheduled, arranged and even then there was still the chance of phone calls to ask questions or to find answers for other doctors or sometimes even the patients themselves. Dylan could remember being on a diving trip in South America when one of the nurses had called him because a patient who Dylan had operated on six months earlier would only accept answers to her queries from him and not the neurologist who was covering for him. He had found it funny, since the cover was actually being taken care of by the wise man who had mentored Dylan when he first came to the hospital as a shiny new intern. However, he had obliged and then gone back down into the water for another hour. Looking up at Bridget, Dylan managed a tired smile. “The longest.” He responded, sinking further down on the couch and holding the cool tumbler glass against his temple, as though it had curative properties that would ease the headache slowly setting in. “I don't think I can move from this couch now.” It was comfortable and Dylan was quite content to remain there and pass out in front of the television. It would leave him with a sore neck in the morning, most likely, but right now he was beyond caring about things like that.
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Apr 22, 2014 23:15:35 GMT -5
Bridget felt like it had been too long soon since they returned from Belfast. She had loved every minute of the trip, even the awkward nerve-wracking moments of meeting Dylan’s extended family. She hadn’t done much in the short time they’d been back but it seemed like already they’d been home months. She did enough to catch up for the extended trip she’d taken, but with her summers free, it never seemed like enough got done. Hell, there were at least two days she did nothing at all, just sat curled up in her favourite leather wingback that she’d carted from Vegas when she first moved and read.
She didn’t envy Dylan his job, or his work load. She actually felt like she did nothing with her time compared to him. She sat at a desk or on a desk and lectured or graded. She molded the minds of the next working generation but she didn’t save lives. Not that she would actually be able to do that with her aversion to blood. She liked her insides exactly where they were; inside! She may not have felt like she was making a difference, compared to Dylan, but she loved what she did all the same. She had too much energy at the end of the day though, to just sit down and relax. It was how she managed to take the dogs for walks, even as late as she often did. Not many people had the guts to attempt a mugging when she walked a dog that was taller than her on his hind legs. And more often than not lately, she was dragging Dylan’s boys’ with her and that meant Katherine was the only one proportionate to her walker!
Crouching, Bridget unclipped the leashes from Katherine’s and Heathcliff’s collars and let them go play with Dylan’s boys’. Standing again, Bridget moved around the couch to sit next to Dylan. “Headache again?” She asked, moving to sit behind Dylan. “My mom gets these stress headaches all the time. And I know it’s not the same but my dad took a seminar at his hospital and anyway, he taught me a couple things he learned. They might help.” She said, already pressing her fingers into the spots she routinely used to use. After a couple minutes, Bridget leaned over Dylan’s shoulder and pressed a feather light kiss to his cheek. “Feeling any better?” She asked. She hated seeing him with one those headaches. It wasn’t the first time she’d found him completely incapacitated because of one and it probably wouldn’t be the last either but she could try and help at least.
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on May 18, 2014 21:17:34 GMT -5
Dylan never thought of himself as some kind of hero, not even when patients and their families told him he was only missing the cape and moniker. In his mind he was doing something good with the chance he had been given all those years earlier. He had been in the bed anxiously waiting on MRI results and CT scans and he knew how it felt to be the one getting their skull cut open and their brain played with. He found that experience came in useful when it came to talking to his patients about procedures and calming them down before their surgery. Dylan could do this for the next thirty, forty years and he still wouldn't think of himself as anything more than just some guy. He didn't keep count on how many lives he saved and he didn't dwell on what might have happened if they hadn't sought help when they had. In his mind his job was the same as every other job; some days were better than others, some were longer and more horrendous to make it through. Everyone had them and it didn't matter if they were a doctor or a window cleaner.
The migraines seemed to act as a reminder of what he had been through during his childhood. It wasn't like Dylan could forget about that even if he wasn't a neurosurgeon now. It wasn't something as minor as falling off his bike and scraping his knees. Although at least scars didn't throb and pound and make it feel like something was about to explode. Dylan would give almost anything to be permanently rid of the migraines, but even with his own knowledge and the knowledge of those more experienced than him, all there was were painkillers and medications. Some of those would screw up his concentration and ability to do his job and others were useless against the pain when it came about. Dylan had learnt a couple of years ago that it was best to knock back a drink and climb into bed when he could, only using the painkillers when he was at work or elsewhere and his choice of whiskey and duvet wasn't an option.
He closed his eyes while Bridget tried to help him. “You know what it's like.” He just said quietly, sighing softly. It was rare he made it through a day like today without one of these hitting him hard by the end of it. At least Dylan knew that he could never overwork himself; his head would cut him off before he got a chance to cross into that zone. “You're going to put me to sleep.” He mumbled, stifling a yawn and instead knocking back a mouthful of his whiskey. If her hands did make him drop off into the realm of the sandman he didn't want his drink going to waste. He had waited all day for this and it was much needed to wrap it all up. Shaking his head, Dylan looked at Bridget sadly. “Not really. It's still building up right behind my eye.” Her tricks might have helped more if he had been in the middle of a full blown migraine, but this was still the onset and it was tricky to control. Dylan knew he could've tried to lie to make her feel better for trying to help, but he wouldn't lie to Bridget even about something like this. Plus, with the way his migraines turned him into a walking corpse it wasn't like he could hide it when it did kick in full force.
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Jul 18, 2014 21:22:31 GMT -5
Bridget had no idea just what Dylan went through in a day. She could guess but she was positive even that wouldn’t come close to the truth. Not that she wanted to know the finer details, even if she had been allowed to know. Bridget already knew when a day wasn’t the greatest or when was and that was enough for the blonde professor. She knew enough to know the good days from the bad and try to make it better. But she’d learned there wasn’t much that could actually fix it but sleep and time. Still, she made things a little easier, at least, she tried. Dylan helped her out so much, he was always there when she needed him most and the least she could do was the same for him. She wasn’t nearly as helpful as he was but she did her part anyway.
“And there’s nothing I can do about that. Aside from falling into a vat of toxic waste and developing superpowers." She said more because she knew the truth than to make him feel bad. She wished there was but unless science had made great strides that she’d been unaware of, she was quite useless in these situations. Bridget rarely got headaches that couldn’t be helped with a couple ibuprofens and water so she really had no clue what Dylan was up against but she could imagine it and it wasn’t pleasant. “I promised those two a walk and thought I’d drag yours along with me. Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’m only going around the block.” She said even as she started to crawl up off the couch. If she timed it right, she could take the pack of them around the block, with three big dogs no one was going to look twice at her, never mind try anything nefarious. And then she could be back in time to slip in with Dylan.
Of course, if the group of them were as active as they were the last time, she’ll return with the lot of them in time to grab a quick shower herself and then curl up next to him. Either way she wasn’t about to complain, only wish that she could do something about those headaches he got. Unfortunately, and she knew it, there was nothing that she could do to fix it. So she baked her feelings away, working through her cookie collection when the specialty pastries were just a little too much and she wanted something on the simple side. “I won’t be twenty minutes. Okay?” She asked, leaning over to kiss Dylan’s temple.
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Jul 29, 2014 7:43:13 GMT -5
Dylan's days were never quiet. Even when he wasn't scheduled in for surgery there was still a massive pile of paperwork to push himself though, patients to see, and other things to organise. There was barely time to pause for lunch on some of these days, but Dylan always managed to find time to shove something into his mouth. His headaches and migraines were insufferable as they were and he didn't want to invite any of them on. It was that reason alone that kept the neurosurgeon healthy and made sure he got his meals on time and gulped back enough water to fill a small paddling pool each day. If the doctors who had looked after him hadn't taught him to do that, then his own time at medical school did. Plus, he couldn't stand feeling like a hypocrite if he was giving his patients advice that even he didn't follow. Worrying about the little things like that also helped to stop Dylan from focusing on the really bad things. His job was rewarding, but it was offered up just as many horrible scenarios too. Those ones he didn't like to talk about, but instead tried to find ways to deal with it personally and quickly. He felt terrible sometimes for doing so, but he couldn't let the burden of one patient affect another.
“Somehow I doubt super powers would work right now.” Dylan was forever an optimist. With his profession and his own past, he had to be. However when these migraines hit it was horribly difficult to keep that upbeat personality going. All he wanted to do was to brood in a dark room until his pain medication kicked in enough to knock him out for a good long sleep. Chuckling very quietly out of the fear that movement at all might shake his head in a way he didn't want, Dylan glanced up at Bridget with the ghost of a smirk. “Do I smell that bad? I just took one when I came in.” It had only been a quick five minutes under the hot water to wash away the feeling of the hospital from his skin. He did it almost every day just to shut his mind off from work and stop him from living and breathing his job.
“Have fun, and behave boys.” He directed the last part towards his dogs. They were both trustworthy and well trained, but Dylan still reminded them from time to time that they needed to play nice. When Bridget and the dogs were gone Dylan stretched out on the couch, resting his arm over his eyes and letting the darkness soothe his migraine ever so slightly. It wasn't going to go away in the twenty minutes Bridget was gone for, but the silence would help just a little bit. What Dylan didn't count on was the possibility of him falling asleep in that time, stretched on a couch that was barely long enough for him.
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Aug 11, 2014 9:06:03 GMT -5
There was only so much Bridget could do through the summer. It wasn’t too often she agreed to a summer credit course because she usually planned on being in Nevada for a good chunk of the summer months. But it did happen on the rare occasion and that kept her busy. But this year, she’d skipped out on it because she’d had plans that didn’t include New York State at all. She kept up with her tutoring but she did that online, so it didn’t really matter where she was in the world. Of course, she usually got through the e-mails in the morning with the rest of it all and then she was left with the rest of the day to fill. And with most of her friends either busy with their own plans or still working because they didn’t have the same work schedule that she had, she was left mostly alone. She may have loved to bake but at the rate she was going, she had enough around her place and Dylan’s to open a shop of her own!
She managed to fill her day somehow though and felt somewhat productive by the time she met up with Dylan after he returned home. And then she got to spend the rest of the evening with him, talking about everything and nothing. Bridget looked forward to dinners with Dylan. They didn’t have to go out, or make a big production of it; she enjoyed his company and his culinary skills, which she teased him was the reason she stuck around. “I meant that it might help, smart ass.” She returned blandly. She hated leaving him in this state but if she didn’t take at least her dogs out for a quick walk around the block, they’d have her up at the crack of dawn to demand a bathroom break. Their walks could wait, that early in the morning but their bladders could not. But if she took them out now, she could sleep in a little bit. So it was just easier to do a quick jog now and reap the benefits of extra sleep later. With all four dogs on their leads, Bridget checked for her keys once more. “They always behave.” Bridget said rather smugly.
Dylan had his boys trained well, far better than her own little monsters. His boys stayed with her and didn’t want to go running off after everything they saw and while Heathcliff stayed with her, Catherine habitually tried to race after everything that moved. Still, three out of four wasn’t bad. The trip around the block was just what the dogs needed and it tired Bridget out just as much. She was yawning as she let herself back into Dylan’s apartment and unclipped the leads from all the dogs. She expected him to say something when she walked through the door but silence met her and she saw the reason why as soon as she looked over to the couch where she’d left him to rest. Quietly, she slipped her Converse off and padded over to crouch beside Dylan. She should let him sleep it off now that he was asleep but he would be annoyed in the morning when he woke up stiff from passing out on the too small couch. “Hey.” She said softly, gently shaking his shoulder. “Come to bed.” She continued, stifling a yawn as she spoke.
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Aug 23, 2014 18:03:39 GMT -5
Obviously, Dylan didn't get a time of year when his work slowed down. People didn't have a vacation from getting sick. He knew that when he had chosen his profession and he knew the long hours would affect his social life. There would be people who wouldn't be able to handle the amount of times when Dylan would be called away for emergencies, or would have to cancel on plans because something had come up at work. His job was unpredictable and sometimes the cost of that had been relationships. Dylan hadn't cried over any of them. He had told himself, and his mother, a long time ago that if someone called a day on what they had because of Dylan's career then they clearly weren't the right person for him. He wasn't a workaholic, but he was a part of a profession that took up a lot of time and required a lot from him and anyone with any sense would know that from the first second he told them what his job was. For someone to expect him to spend more time away from the hospital than he already did would be ridiculous. It was probably one of the reasons why he was so grateful for Bridget, who already understood the life of a doctor long before she had even met him. He didn't have to explain any of it to her and there were never any fights over why he couldn't be at home by the same time every evening.
There was no worse feeling than feeling sick for some people. Dylan had been right down at rock bottom when it came to that. His chemotherapy when he was a child had him throwing up until he felt like there was nothing left inside of himself when he was just a boy. However, as a grown man, he would take stomach viruses and the flu over one of his migraines. At least with those there were things that could help slightly, or at least take his mind off a bunged up nose or gurgling stomach. Right now he could do nothing but close his eyes, seek out the darkness and wait for the throbbing sensations to go away again. It was a feeling of hopelessness that Dylan hated more than anything else in the world. Nothing could make it go away until the migraine itself was well and truly gone and Dylan was feeling like his usual self again.
Truthfully, when he felt Bridget shaking him awake Dylan didn't want to move from the couch. Just sitting up had him feeling like he was going to be sick, but he knew that waking up stiff would make him feel a whole lot worse if on the off chance this migraine was still lingering then. His eyes half closed, he stumbled his way to bed and fell on top of it. Dylan didn't bother pulling any of his clothes off and just tugged the pillow closer to his head and closed his eyes again. “I love you, Bee.” His words were thick with sleep, and Dylan didn't even register the fact that this was the first time he had spoken those three words. They just rolled off his tongue naturally, like they were the last words he uttered every night before he fell asleep.
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Aug 25, 2014 20:21:26 GMT -5
Bridget had known better than most the gruelling hours a doctor kept long before she’d known much else. It was usually her and her mother in their great big house, keeping it filled with laughter and memories. It had been difficult when she’d been younger and didn’t understand why daddy wasn’t baking or swimming, too. But she’d learned and she understood. Eventually Bridget had grown used to taking the time her father gave her and doing all they could in that short time. She got that it wasn’t that he didn’t love them less than his patients or the hospital but he did have a passion for his work. And that was something Bridget got even more than anything else before it. When she’d found her passion in literature she absolutely understood how someone could get so wrapped up in their work. And his was far more important than hers. He was off saving lives and making changes and so was Dylan. Bridget was nothing if not understanding when it came to the profession.
She didn’t cry when plans fell through, she didn’t usually make plans with Dylan or even Taylor. They were usually a spur of the moment thing and Bridget was alright with that. She hardly led a life where she needed to schedule every single second of her day. As long as it went around her classes, she was usually good to go. She never expected Dylan home around any certain time because she knew there weren’t really any set hours. And it hardly mattered anyway since she couldn’t cook worth a damn. The only thing she could throw together and it still be considered edible was salad. They both knew it so it wasn’t like she would be waiting up to surprise Dylan was dinner and if she was it had been ordered in. Besides she had a ton of books she didn’t get to read since she’d picked them up so she filled her free time going through those, baking and watching stupid videos on Youtube. Occasionally inspiration would strike and Bridget would find herself staring at her computer screen while she type out ideas for shorts stories and adding in her research of things. It was a quiet lifestyle but it was one Bridget enjoyed and had strived most of her life for.
With the dogs walked and exhausted from the trip around the block, Bridget wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Dylan in one of his t-shirts and dream up something silly. She might not have done a lot or anything all that exciting but she’d managed to fill her day. What she shared with Dylan may have still be fairly new but it was a long time coming in Bridget’s eyes; now that she had let herself think of it. She was finding herself waking up if not in Dylan’s arms, in his bed more than she was waking up under her own sheets. Not that she could say she minded at all. She quite enjoyed curling up next to Dylan and was planning on keeping up the habit when his schedule allowed him to find his own bed at night.
It didn’t take much trouble at all getting Dylan up and moving to the bed. He’d really hate himself in the morning if the migraine hadn’t gone away and he was left with a stiff neck along with it because of his impromptu sleeping arrangements. She walked with him to the bed, just to make sure he didn’t stumble into anyway, anything could happen after all but froze when he flopped down on the bed, already falling back into sleep. His words were soft but she’d heard them clear enough and they made her pause for a second or two. Their relationship was a different one from the start as they’d been friends long before they turned their friendship into something more than that. It probably wouldn’t have been presumptuous to say those three little words with so much meaning early on but neither of them had. And now Dylan was saying those exact words to her as if she said them every single day. Bridget had to admit, it had sent a flutter through her system. With a stupid grin on her face, she changed into one of Dylan’s t-shirts, double checked the door was locked and all the lights were off before she slid in next to him. “I love you, too.” She whispered, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder before drifting off herself.
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Sept 6, 2014 19:16:09 GMT -5
Despite the pressure and the hardships of his chosen career, Dylan wouldn't change it for the world. He loved his job even on the worst of days when he didn't want to even think about what had happened, forget talk about it. Those days were unavoidable, he knew that before he got into the profession, but he lived with hope that they were few. After everything he had been through in his life and his own battle with his health he needed that hope and he honestly believed that it was what got him through some of the tougher times when other people might have been more likely to just throw the towel in and give up. Dylan wasn't like that though. He was born into a fighting family; the Griffins were Irish, after all. Irish, loud, and resilient. Their history seemed to be full of trouble, loss and battling through the tough times. Every branch of the family tree screamed it in some way or another and even now Dylan was still battling through his own personal issues with his migraines; the one remaining problem from his childhood fight with the cancer. If it wasn't that bringing him down then it was something at the hospital and his patients. He was just thankful that he wasn't like some doctors and he had a way to switch off once he was out of his scrubs and white coat and back in his apartment.
Dylan slept soundly. He barely moved from the position he passed out in, and not even when Sanders and Ash did their usual meander to the bedroom and opened the door noisily did it bother him. There were no dreams, no moments in which he woke up to check the clock on the bedside table. Whenever Dylan had a bad head he could usually guarantee himself a night of perfect rest, so long as when he awoke the next morning the migraine was gone and his head was clear again. If it wasn't then he usually felt awful and groggy, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the sheets and spend the rest of the day there. There had been times when he had done just that, too. When it was so severe he managed to grab his phone, call work and slur his absence to his boss who would hear the problem in his voice more than anything else, and then Dylan would hide for the rest of the day just drifting in and out of sleep whilst keeping his bedroom as dark as could be.
Thankfully, when morning did come and Dylan did finally begin to stir, there was no trace of the migraine remaining. He was slightly sleepy still, but that was common until he had his first cup of coffee in him. Realising he was still fully clothed left him a little confused for a moment, but then the memory of the night before came back. He recalled how terrible he had been feeling, how Bridget had taken the dogs for their walk whilst he passed out on the couch, and then he remembered her waking him up when she got back so he could move to the bed. He guessed he must've literally hit the sheets and passed right back out again. He wasn't really surprised. When he felt that awful it wasn't really unheard of for him to collapse in his clothes or pass out so quickly. Dylan was just relieved it was a short lived migraine and not one of the ones that lingered for a few days.
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TAGGED! Bee! <3 WORDS! 599! OUTFIT! Drained Doctor! LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower NOTES! <3 <3 <3
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Sept 16, 2014 12:56:10 GMT -5
Bridget slept fitfully through the night and woke up fully somewhere long before the sun even thought about rising and just couldn't get back to sleep. She worried about Dylan and his headaches but that wasn't the only reason she couldn't fall back asleep. Dylan's headaches got so bad sometimes that he didn't remembering even talking to her, which had happened before and she worried that he wouldn't remember saying those three small but meaningful words to her. In all the time that she'd known him, he not once said anything he didn't mean, even in those headache induced memory lapses so she at least knew he meant what he'd said. But she really didn't want that awkward conversation in the morning. When she couldn't fall back asleep after twenty minutes, she rolled out of bed, giving up on the Sandman taking her away again.
She had initially thought baking would help calm her down enough so she could sleep peacefully but Dylan was in a deep sleep and she didn't want to rouse him before he was ready to. With those headaches of his, it could be more bothersome than when they first hit. And she didn't want to be the reason he woke up with an even worse headache than when he'd fallen asleep. So she scanned his bookshelves, picking up a classic novel and settling down on the couch to read until she started to yawn. She could usually hop into bed and pass out once again when that happens. But she barely got through the first chapter before her head was using the arm of the couch as a pillow. To say she slept was an understatement. It was more like a couple hour's nap and she was wide awake once again. She was used to sleeping about four hours a night but she didn't feel like she'd even gotten that.
Cursing in French, Bridget set the book on the table and stood up. Now that she'd started it, she just had to finish it, even though it was hardly the first time she'd read that particular book. But first, she was going to start on breakfast or something. She could put together some sort of breakfast pastry, depending on what she'd added to Dylan's pantry. Sighing at what was available, Bridget went through a mental list of the recipes she knew and decided on popovers. With that in mind, she ran across to her own apartment to gather what she needed from there. She grabbed the zester from its place and snatched up an orange over the lemon she'd been going to use. The rest was already at Dylan's so she returned and started on the popovers. She hoped it was late enough that she wouldn't wake Dylan with the noise she would probably make.
Tag || Dylan! <3 Words || 470 Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes Notes || <3
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Oct 2, 2014 15:14:46 GMT -5
His head felt fuzzy, but Dylan knew that was the price to pay of coming out on the other side of a migraine. It felt like he was there and yet some place else at the same time. It was a strange sensation, but one that he could easily battle through after so many years of coping with it now. It was like a very mild hangover, only without the nauseating feeling accompanying it. He knew he could eat what he liked and it wouldn't repeat on him, and that there would be no regrettable memories or text messages from the night before. At the end of it, Dylan was just thankful that he didn't have the damn migraine anymore. He really didn't want to have to spend the day curled up in his bed, curtains closed and the duvet right up over his head while he tried to block out both the light and the sounds of the city around him. It wasn't fun and he didn't want to have to pawn off his professional responsibilities onto another doctor who would be just as busy as Dylan was supposed to be.
None of that needed to be worried about though. Dylan stretched out, hearing his limbs twist and crack as they needed to, aching slightly from whatever stiff position he had contorted himself into during the night as he sought out comfort between the sheets. A content sigh passed his lips and he relaxed against the pillow, in no quick rush to move. He already knew that the space beside him was vacant, but he could hear movement from the kitchen of his apartment. In all honestly, he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone if Bridget had spent the night next to him or in her own bed, but he assumed she was cooking in his apartment because she had stayed there. He didn't feel particularly hungry right then and there, but he knew that would all change once he stepped into the kitchen and caught a whiff of whatever she was baking, since he knew Bridget would be definitely be baking something.
Finally, Dylan forced himself from the bed, running his fingers through his limp, messy hair. Moving through the spacious apartment, he found Bridget where he expected to find her, given the noises coming from the kitchen. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her stomach and pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Good morning. What masterpiece are you working on this early in the day?” He asked, giving her a quick squeeze before stepping back to give her the room to work. He could be a distraction when he wanted to be, but he was still feel the light tug of sleepiness and the migraine from the previous evening had him feeling more lethargic than he was most mornings. So instead of being playful and teasing Bridget, Dylan just reached for the coffee machine, and his favourite mug.
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TAGGED! Bee! <3 WORDS! 495! OUTFIT! Drained Doctor! LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower NOTES! <3 <3 <3
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Post by Bridget Cameron Delaynee on Oct 13, 2014 23:51:09 GMT -5
It wasn't too often Bridget could be found outside her usual haunts. If reading couldn't fix whatever problem she had then it was off to the kitchen with her to work her way through a half dozen recipes or so. That had always calmed her down and made her think about everything she needed to. Too often though there was just too much to think through for one recipe. This morning however she only had one thing to think about; Dylan's confession and her own. She loved Dylan, of course she did but what unnerved her the most was how she'd missed when it became more than just love for a friend. She wasn't about to complain, she did love him but it really did unnerve her. It would have been better if she could have gone for a run or made breakfast at her place away from Dylan for a bit but she didn't want to leave him alone just in case hid headache hadn't dissipated. And in all honesty she didn't need the space. She had made all her biggest decisions while she was baking, where didn't matter. And this wasn't a decision she had to make exactly, it was just something she wanted to think about.
So Bridget made breakfast and coffee, working through all she was feeling while she tried her hand at some bacon for Dylan. She had absolutely no idea if she was even cooking it right but when it looked like it was starting to burn, she took it off the heat and hoped for the best. She was too deep in thought, letting her mind wander down what if lane, that she hadn't heard Dylan get up or wander over to the kitchen. She jumped slightly when he wrapped his arms around her but leaned into him immediately, if briefly. "I made popovers and tried my hand at Wilbur. You might have to cook that longer." She said biting her lip because she really didn't know if she'd cooked it properly. She didn't eat it so she had never bothered learning how to cook it. Plus of the pair of them Dylan was the one who cooked, she just baked!
"Coffee's fresh." She added, picking up her own mug and taking a sip of the cooling drink. She smirked at the mug in her hand, knowing this next step wad a natural one. She already spent more time at Dylan's than she did at her own place, she had some clothes in his closet just in case she was running late and didn't have the time to run across the hall. His fridge was as packed as hers with the treats she baked and she even had her favorite mug stashed in one of his cupboards for morning coffees. She was practically moved in! Which was exactly why she was so unnerved by missing the whole fact that she fell head of heels in love with Dylan and didn't notice. And she was impressed saying those three words hadn't happened sooner in all honesty. But now she didn't know how to bring it up again and she was getting into her pen about it once more. She'd just spent the better part of an hour thinking about the future and what those three little words meant for them. She turned to say something to Dylan, maybe say those words again but the timer went off and she had to get the popovers our before they burned. She flipped the pastry onto the plate she'd set aside for them and left them for a second just to wrap her arms around Dylan's middle this time.
Tag || Dylan! <3 Words || 612 Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes Notes || <3
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Post by dylan ellis griffin on Oct 26, 2014 11:24:36 GMT -5
Whenever Dylan found himself faced with a problem he usually worked through it by working on whatever piece of furniture he was restoring at the time. It worked for most things, from personal issues to work matters. Even if he didn’t find the perfect answer it usually helped him feel better, which ultimately was what Dylan usually needed to help him figure things out with a clear mind. However, this morning Dylan didn’t wake up with anything more than a fuzzy head and the typical ‘hangover’ of one of his migraines. Breakfast, coffee, and then hopefully some fresh air would help clear it up and if not then there would be something at work that would help. Doctors and nurses had their little tricks to help them get over just about everything, and they needed it when they were sometimes pulling double shifts, or working when they least expected to. It was part of what they signed up for, but it sometimes came at the worst of times, and there was little they could do about it aside from turning on the coffee pot and looking to the cure book for headaches, hangovers, and everything else that might burden them when they least needed it to.
Dylan smiled at her and reached for the bacon, breaking a bit off and popping it into his mouth, chewing it. “Not bad for a first go, gorgeous.” He said with a small smile, taking another bite before he turned his attention to the coffee. He wouldn’t be awake properly until the first mug was empty and the second mug was poured. Most mornings he didn’t even taste the first mug going down and he often joked that it was more medicinal than anything else. He needed that mug to wake up, then the second mug he could savour the taste of and actually enjoy it a little more. Given his job and the hectic hours he worked, there were many mornings when Dylan had either had very few hours of sleep or he had just managed to catch up on close to twelve hours of much needed sleep. It was safe to say that he was something close to a zombie most days for the first half an hour to an hour, even when he tried his best not to be.
“Two words every man wants to hear first thing in the morning.” Dylan said with a grin and a wink. Everything smelt so good and after only whipping up a small, really quick dinner the night before his stomach was growling just from the smell lingering in the air right now. He couldn’t wait to sit down and dig into it all once the first cup of coffee was done with, which knowing Dylan wouldn’t take long at all. Feeling Bridget wrapping her arms around him, he put the mug down on the side and turned to hug her back tightly. “Hey, you. Everything okay?” He asked, slightly concerned now by Bridget’s slightly strange behaviour this morning. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but she was certainly acting a little weird since he had woken up; that much he could say was true.
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TAGGED! Bee! <3 WORDS! 540! OUTFIT! Drained Doctor! LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower NOTES! <3 <3 <3
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