sheepfilms
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

blake kathryn

Discoholic 🪩
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi

ellievsbear
$LAYYYTER
No title available

Product Placement
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

roma★
Mike Driver

@theartofmadeline
Game of Thrones Daily
Keni
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

seen from Greece
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia
seen from Vietnam
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seen from Germany
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@drastevens
Williamson Stevens (62) and Dahlia Marie Stevens-Beckett (58).
Andrew’s immediate family are his parents, Williamson and Dahlia. Both of them were born into families with big amounts of money and were expected to follow a plan, which can explain why Andrew was brought up in the same way.
Williamson is a charming, powerful man and he knows it. The man takes advantage of his looks, his connections and his current position to obtain what he wants without a lot of effort on his part. He’s cunning, very opinionated and a severe man, both with his family and his colleagues. Williamson doesn’t let anyone boss him around and he will make sure that those whom had wronged him pay the price for their actions. Yet, the man isn’t just a military tank, he can be very passionate and happened to be a good dad to Andrew, even if his time was severely reduced by his job. He’s also protective and gentle, even if it does takes a lot to bring that side out.
Dahlia, on the other hand, is a handful. She’s strong, independent and well-spoken. She was brought up to be a lady, but rebelled against her mother’s wishes to act the part of the perfect wife. She drank, smoked and partied until she met Williamson, whom she fell head over heels in love for. Everyone thought she would never settle, but once she finally married, she naturally fell to the role of the perfect wife without even realizing it. Allowing Williamson to make all the decisions, never complaining when her husband stopped paying attention to her and instead focused on Andrew and his job. Dahlia became just like her mother – fake and lonely. She found solace in creating a perfect picture for her life and thus has been keeping it up for years.
Andrew doesn’t have the closest relationship with his parents. He prefers not to contact them in any way, unless it’s very important. Out of the two, he prefers his father over his mother, although he won’t admit it out loud.
Both Williamson and Dahlia still reside in Boston. Williamson is Chief of staff in congress and Dahlia is a stayed at home socialite. They barely speak to each other and just stay married to keep up appearances and for Andrew’s sake.
PLAYLIST FROM 1982.
Bennie and The Jets - Elton John:
“She's got electric boots a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine.”
Andrew’s favorite song when he’s drunk, the melody causes him to dance, strip and make a complete fool of himself, no matter where he is or what he’s doing.
Paradise City - Guns n’ Roses:
“Take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. Oh, won't you please take me home.”
Andrew always plays this song when he’s bathing. He likes the guitar solo and will air-play it in the shower, no shame in doing so. He’s not sure whether Paradise City is his favorite song or not, but he has been listening to it since he was sixteen and doesn’t get tired of it.
Creep - Radiohead:
“But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.”
Another classic in Andrew’s iPod. He’s been listening to it ever since Pablo Honey came out in ‘93. Andrew tends to play this song while driving home from the hospital because it relaxes him. He specially likes listening to Creep when it’s dark. Other songs he enjoys from Radiohead are Karma Police, High and Dry and A Wolf At The Door.
Left Hand Free - Alt-J:
“Ain't shady baby, I'm hot like the prodigal son. Pick a petal, eeny meeny miny mo. And flower, you're the chosen one”
Although it’s not a band he would normally like, Andrew enjoys the band’s sound. He can’t say much about the lyrics, but the singer’s voice and the sound of the instruments really appeal to him.
Scars (flashback) | Rachel + Andrew
The last thing Rachel remembered before her car was sent down an embankment was that she desperately needed to get home to feed her dog, Amos. Between then and now, she could only put together bits and pieces. The sound of the gurney rolling down the hall, the bright lights blinding her as she lay there. She was so still. She didn’t have the strength to move. Her knowledge as a doctor told her that this wasn’t a good sign. She couldn’t move her hand, her operating hand, at all. She realized this only a few seconds before passing back out.
Over the next several hours, Rachel drifted in and out of consciousness. Never more than a few moments. Every single time she tried to get answers. What happened? How bad were her injuries? Would she ever be able to operate again? But, before she could even form the sentences in her mind, much less find the strength to speak them, she was back out. The one thing that registered each time she came to was that she was alone. Her parents weren’t there, and none of ther friends. That didn’t much matter to Rachel though. Her parents lead extremely busy lives, and she partly hoped they weren’t even notified of her accident in the first place. She would call them on her own later, once she was able to assure them everything was fine. What did matter though, was the each time she opened her eyes, Rachel wanted to see Andrew’s face. She hadn’t seen him in months, but now, under the circumstances, he was the only person she wanted beside her.
More hours passed, and Rachel’s body grew stronger. They moved her from the Intensive Care Unit, down to a regular room. Finally, she woke, more lucid than before. Her eyes focused on the face she had been waiting to see. Half of her refused to believe Andrew was actually sitting there, though the other half wasn’t surprised that he had showed. She felt the warmth of his hand on hers and accepted that he had really come for her. Silently, she cursed herself for thinking it would have been anything otherwise. She should have given Andrew more credit than that from the beginning.
Rachel tried to sit up, but wasn’t strong enough. Instead, she settled for scooting up slightly on the hospital bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rachel told him, a weak smile on her face. She didn’t comment on the last thing he’d said because it went without saying. She couldn’t live without him either. “But, is this what it takes to get you back in Baltimore? I would’ve drove my car off that hill months ago.” She tried to laugh, but it came out raspy and ultimately sent Rachel into a fit of coughs. “Water, please?” She asked through the hacking.
“Hey, hey,” Andrew said, placing a gentle hand on Rachel’s shoulder to stop her from moving too much. “Easy. Don’t force yourself, you just got out of surgery. I’m surprised they even moved you to your own room so quickly.”
When Rachel asked for water, Andrew nodded and stood up, taking a plastic cup from one of the cabinets of the genetic wardrobe placed in front of Rachel’s bed. He grabbed the bottle of water next to the pile of cups and filled it halfway, unsure of how much water his friend could ingest in her state. “Here,” he said, offering the cup to Rachel before sitting back down on the chair next to her bed.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Andrew considered very calmly what to say to Rachel about Baltimore. She knew well enough what had happened, she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to return. Everything in the city reminded him of how badly he had been hurt and how betrayed he had felt, it also reminded him of how he had hit rock bottom. Alcohol, drugs... Hell, Andrew felt ashamed just thinking about it. It had been so unlike him to rebel that way, which reminded him of how badly his ex-fiancée had drove him to the edge. The harlot had transformed him into something he didn’t even recognize when looking at himself in the mirror.
“Seattle isn’t so bad, y’know.” He offered, flashing Rachel a weak smile. “It has the best coffee in the country, people aren’t so irritating as they say they are and you learn to appreciate the sun because you only see it once every eternity. But hey, let’s not talk about that today, okay?”Andrew waved his hand as if to push the topic of the conversation away. He didn’t want to talk about Seattle right now, he was worried about his friend.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, grabbing Rachel’s hand in both his own once more, caressing the skin with both his thumbs. “I’m sorry I never called, it’s just...” He stopped abruptly, unsure of what to say. Had wanted to be alone? Couldn’t take the pity in Rachel’s expression? He wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, honestly. I just... Didn’t think you would want to talk to me after disappearing so quickly, without even bothering to say good-bye to you.
“Because I wanted to say good-bye to you. Hell, you were the only person I wanted to see before leaving. But I just couldn’t, and I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I have been the shittiest friend to you, when the only thing you ever did was be there for me, to support me. You didn’t deserve that. Being abandoned like that, as if you didn’t matter. Because you did matter, you still do. You mattered most than anyone else here and I didn’t value that in the end. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I just didn’t care about anyone but myself, and that was so wrong.” He kept looking at Rachel’s hand as he spoke, not wanting to see the expression on her face. He expected her to hate him, to be annoyed by him. He couldn’t bare to look at that.
“I’m sorry, Rach.”
nerves || riley & andrew.
Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, Riley suddenly realized that she hadn’t introduced herself. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s my name, after all. Mss. McNabb just… makes me feel old.” Agents were always told to be invisible. The moment they drew attention, they weren’t doing their job. They were there for protection and nothing else–unless she was assigned to look after the President’s daughters. Then she was almost obligated to talk. Neither of the young girls liked the fact that they had to go everywhere with a tail–so Riley was always played off as the family friend to keep up normal appearances. As normal as they could all be being under protection detail in the middle of a movie theater or Chick-Fil-A, that is.
Rubbing her palms lightly on her thighs, she nodded at his question. She’d been through all this with her last doctor–though they had been specifically assigned through the agency. So there was less surprise at the long list of injuries that adorned her personal file, but she still figured it was more than most normal people. “Yep,” she confirmed, unfazed by the information. “I was told the knife nicked the radial nerve. And I kept using it so the cluster was under stress for a period of time. The few months after it happened I used to have sporadic numbness every once and a while. And the tingling. Couldn’t grip things. But it seemed to heal itself. This is the first time it’s happened in a year. I usually just wait it out–I’m not that big of a fan of hospitals,” she shot him a small, apologetic smile, “But the numbness and the weakness hasn’t gone away.”
She wasn’t particularly arrogant about her past endeavors, but she did take some pride in the things she’d done and had been a part of. She never thought she was better than anyone else–just that she was more weathered. Underestimating anyone was a dangerous thing, especially in her line of work. “No worries,” she replied, nodding and moving her hair to the side so he could place his fingers against her neck. “I’m not going to flip you over my shoulder or anything.” It was a joke, but she was terrible at them. She’d sense the apprehension. The slight intrigue. The awed expression. She knew there was curiosity there. “I’m not… really sure what you can do, but,” she shrugged. “I was told to go see a doctor if it ever resurfaced again.”
“I certainly hope you don’t flip me over your shoulder,” Andrew said, chuckling. For some odd reason, he believed she could do it. The formal way she carried herself radiated that vibe. He gently inspected her neck and continued moving towards her shoulder, tucking at the collar of her blouse to have a better look at the scar the knife had left on her skin.
“Let’s see,” He said, passing his finger through the scar. “I can’t make a diagnose by looking at the scar, I’m going to need some tests to see what might be causing the tingling in your hand.”
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Andrew considered the possibilities. His biggest bet was that Riley’s nerves had been damaged by the knife and had never been repaired, which was unlikely, but possible. He knew there were very irresponsible surgeons and the nerves connecting the shoulder to the hand could have been easily overlooked when doing surgery.
“I can give you a possible diagnose of what I think is happening here,” Andrew said after a few seconds of silence, taking a step back from Riley to talk to her face-to-face. “But I will need to run some tests to make sure I’m correct. You see, your nerves were damaged by the knife and what you’re experiencing is a symptom of an Ulnar nerve dysfunction. If I’m right, you’re looking at a few months of physical therapy to recover mobility on your hand.”
Resting his elbow against his other arm, Andrew brought his hand to his face and rested his chin on his palm, still thinking. The chart he had been given with Riley’s information and medical history had been vague and all the jokes she had been doing about hurting him or taking him down made him believe that she was in some sort of intelligence agency, maybe the CIA or FBI. The possibilities that she hadn’t been treated were very slim, considering how agents were normally checked by the best doctors in the country. But, although they were very slim, it was still possible Riley had not been treated correctly.
“Have you experienced any more numbness, pain, burning sensations in your arm or hand, or weakness?” He added as an afterthought.
Scars (flashback) | Rachel + Andrew
Andrew had no idea how the hospital had managed to contact him, but he was glad they had gone to so much trouble just to give him a phone call. It seemed that not all people in Baltimore were bad, considering how obstinate two of the nurses had acted, desperately calling two hospitals in Seattle before they had found his cellphone number.
Rachel was in trouble. The nurses hadn’t said much, but they had made it clear he needed to make it home right away. Home. That word had sounded so foreign on their lips. Andrew didn’t know where his home was. His home had been stolen right under his very nose by someone he had believed was his friend.
After two hours waiting around in the airport and then five hours on an airplane, Andrew had finally made it to Baltimore. He had started packing as soon as the nurses had told him about Rachel’s accident, had taken a taxi to the airport half an hour later and was buying a plane ticket for the next flight leaving to Baltimore, Maryland, to be with his friend. He knew Rachel would have done the same for him in a heartbeat, that’s how their friendship functioned. They had always been there for each other and would continue to be until one of them was buried six feet underground.
Now, arriving to the hospital that had been his home for almost a decade, Andrew felt a sense of dread crept onto him. He despised this place. It brought back horrible memories of his last year of residency. All the drinking, the drugs, the one night stands with the nurses. He had behaved wrongly and he was ashamed of whom he used to be before moving to Seattle, before getting his shit together.
Walking straight to the reception, Andrew recognized one of the older nurses and waved her over. “What room is Rachel in?”
“Room 207,” The nurse said, flashing Andrew a weak smile. “It’s nice to see you back, Andrew.”
“I’m not back, Moira,” He said, already trotting towards the stairs.
Reaching the second floor, he made his way to room 207 without getting lost, working so many years in the same building apparently did have its perks. He pushed the door open and walked to the bed, looking down at Rachel with a grim expression on his face.
The gentle expression was gone from her features, instead, Rachel’s face was bruised and cut in so many places that it was almost hard looking at her. But still, Andrew kept on looking. He was worried, he hadn’t been told what had happened, just that she had been on a car accident that had caused a lot of damage. He had been told over the phone that she was in surgery and wouldn’t be out for a couple of hours. Was told that they were praying, but things looked bad.
“I’m glad you made it,” He said, sitting down next to Rachel’s bed and taking her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “I was worried. You know I can’t live without you.”
@drastevens
nerves || riley & andrew.
She’d noticed the man the moment he’d passed into the waiting area, tracking him overtly. A somewhat invasive habit she hadn’t quite shaken from the Secret Service but she figured it couldn’t ever really backfire on her. She only assumed that he had a morning routine–nod to people who smiled at him, smile back to the receptionist–ah, there it was. Lifting her head when the woman pointed at her, Riley got to her feet, folding the magazine she’d been lightly skimming through during her wait and placed it on the chair side table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied, offering a small smile and a firm handshake with her right hand. She was a diehard lefty but she wasn’t quite sure she’d manage to give an adequate shake with her arms current–and frustrating–state. And you could tell a lot about a person by the way they shook your hand. She didn’t want to have him thinking she was in any dire need. She hated the fact that she was even in this position in the first place.
The mantra from Doctor Stevens was something Riley was used to–no matter how much she hated to admit it. She was never one who voluntarily took herself to the hospital. It was always someone threatening her about getting blood somewhere they didn’t want and then an offer to take her–or she was ordered to. The latter was more frequent. Especially back in D.C. She’d found that life in Seattle was quiet, a fact that she thought wouldn’t concern her. But she couldn’t deny that she’d turned into a bit of an adrenaline junkie. She missed the high stakes of the Secret Service.
It was strange that Riley had noticed the certain amount of ruggedness Doctor Steven’s face held. Usually she focused on potential bulges under the arms or ankles but–for a brief moment–she had focused on his eyes. Kind. Compassionate. Maybe a little ragged. But she only figured the hours of a doctor were some of the most grueling around. Blinking as he turned, she clenched her jaw briefly before following. Really. She didn’t have time for that. Oddly, she felt rather silly sitting down on the examination table, the thin covering crinkling slightly as relaxed onto it. Flashes of her childhood raced through her mind and she licked her lips slightly. “How long do you think this is going to take?” she questioned, trying to get her mind back on track. Hopefully not long. She had things to do.
Andrew opened one of the cabinets as the woman sat down on the examination table. He took out a lantern and skimmed around to see if there was anything else he needed before closing the cabinet’s door and turning around, flashing the brunette another smile. “So, uh...” Looking down at the chart he was holding in his hand, Andrew read that she was named Riley. “Riley. Is it alright if I call you that?"
Always the polite man, Andrew didn’t want to offend Riley by calling her by his first name. For some odd reason, she didn’t strike him as a common woman. Most female patients he treated introduced themselves right away and didn’t take a second to start batting their eyelashes and act all touchy-touchy around him; they would insist he call them by their first names and be completely fine with him touching them anywhere, yet Riley on the other hand... Well, she hadn’t even given him her last name and had shaken his hand with a firm grip, as if wanting to let him know that even if he was the one checking up on her, she could take him any second. She probably could, she definitely looked like it.
“Alright, let’s see,” he said, reading the rest of the chart, Andrew listed the symptoms she had described to the receptionist and the rest of the information she had provided when she had checked in. “You say you have a tremor, or a tingling, in your fingers whenever you... uh... try to grip something. It says that it was caused by a knife wound from a few years back, yes?” Andrew re-read that part, shooting Riley a sideway glance with an awed expression plastered on his face for a second before he forced it to return back to normal. “How long has this been going on?”
Placing the chart next to the examination table, Andrew approached Riley and gently placed two of his fingers on her neck. “May I?” He asked, fully convinced that if he freaked her out in any way, she could definitely take him.
nerves || riley & andrew.
Hospitals weren’t places Riley liked to visit all that often. She’d spent her fair share in them and found that they were all the same–no matter how often the places tried to sway you differently. The walls were almost always white (unless you happened to wander into the children’s ward where the white was replaced with colorful fishes or animals) and the hallways almost always smelled of antiseptic. On top of that, they were almost always crowded. It was amazing, Riley thought as she trudged into the University of Washington Medical Center, that so many people found themselves hurt at the same time.
Frowning slightly as she approached the front desk, she scanned the waiting room, cataloging everyone–every tick–every twitch. She’d made note of the emergency exit and the fastest rout just in case–what? Just in case what? a voice retorted in the back of her head. Blinking and returning her attention back to the receptionist, she smiled lightly and revealed her name and time of her already scheduled appointment. It was the first time since moving back to Seattle that she’d actually had to venture to the hospital and she wasn’t fond of the idea of another doctor getting a look at her medical records. She was a private person, and while there was the whole doctor patient thing, she still didn’t like someone knowing more about her past than she was comfortable divulging.
But she couldn’t really do her job if her fingers tingled every time she tried to grip her gun. A battle wound from her glory days that had all but stuck with her. While she’d been very worried about getting shot at constantly when she first joined–she never once thought she’d learn to be more weary of a knife than a bullet. But one night out spent protecting the President’s daughters saw her in a nasty brawl in the bathroom with a couple of thugs who thought they could snatch the two girls. A knife to the shoulder left her arm numb and useless and after the whole ordeal she occasionally lost feeling in the limb. Which explained why she was currently parked in an uncomfortable seat in the lobby–waiting to be called back to see the neurologist.
Hospitals felt more like home to Andrew than his actual home. He spent more time hidden away from the world inside the pristine walls of healing centers than he did anywhere else, so the constant beating of machines, the crowds and the smell of antiseptic was like a warm cup of tea during a very cold winter night. It was cozy, comforting, and it surely felt very much like his own home. And sure, he liked to go back to his apartment to rest and be by himself whenever a long shift ended, but he also liked spending time in the hospital. After everything that had gone wrong in his life, at least his career remained intact, which turned out to be a blessing in a way. Andrew still felt part of something and that was the most important thing for him at the moment.
Making his way towards the main reception in a hurry – he was still having a hard time adjusting to this new medical consultation he had to get done every day – he hoped that there weren’t many people waiting on him. Although neurosurgery wasn’t as frequently requested as other medical specializations, there were still many cases that were placed on his charts every day. Most of them required urgent surgery and were brought in through the ER, but some of them, like the ones he had forgotten he needed to attend, came waltzing in through the front door without guts spilling out of their bodies or brains spurting down on the stretcher.
“Mornin’,” He said to the receptionist as he reached the main lobby, flashing the woman one of his usual smiles. “I’m not that late, am I?” Shaking her head, the receptionist pointed towards a good-looking woman with dark brown hair and light colored eyes. Andrew observed the woman for a few seconds, wondering what could be wrong with her. She looked fine from where he was standing.
Walking towards the dark-haired woman, Andrew flashed another pearly smile and extended his hand in a polite manner. “Good morning, I’m doctor Stevens,” He said, before adding as an afterthought, “the neurosurgeon in charge, I’ll be taking care of your case today.”
“If you could follow me,” Andrew said, turning around to make his way towards one of the consulting rooms. Once he was out of the woman’s immediate sight, he cringed, realizing that he probably had sounded like a doctor from a bad soap opera. He was really, really bad at this.
We’re reeling through an endless fall
We are the ever-living ghost of what once was
Ghost of parents past | Brett & Andrew
Being at work was always the easiest part of Brett’s day, she never realized how much work her father put into this place until she was the one caring for it, but that old mahogany bar felt more like home than the linoleum counter that lined the kitchen of the house she grew up in did. This place was filled with only happy memories, nights when they would anxiously wait for her father to sneak off shift and take them to a baseball game, or days when tips were good and her dad would come home and wake her and her siblings up for a middle of the night pizza party to celebrate. Everything in here was a memory, from the ‘G’ that her brother had carved into the bar one night, to the framed dollar that had been hung on the wall since before she was born.
She also liked coming to the bar because she could talk to the customers about problems that weren’t her own. Where she could listen to someone else’s sob story and not feel so bad about her own for a little while. She went to school to be a psychiatrist, and in a weird way, being a bartender sometimes felt like it the same thing. Seattle was sneaking back up on her, she was settling into this life and helping people with their problems at the bar and her two week visit had already become almost a month. The way she saw it though there were only two options; sell the bar, or run it herself, it was a no-brainer because there was no way in hell she could ever give up the bar and watch it get turned into some hip juice bar or upscale exclusive lounge. Shenanigans was her dads pride and joy, her family joked on far too many occasions that he loved that old bar more than he loved them.
So there she was, joking along with an older couple, regular customers who were close with her parents and two customers she had gotten to know well. “Alright, Alright, I’ll be back to get you guys a refill in a second, there are other customers here though, I’ve been neglecting that end of the bar.” She joked and walked to the other end, surveying the rest of the dimly lit room as she walked. The remnants of a laugh from her last conversation were still on her lips as until her gaze shifted upwards to the man on the other side of the bar. Her breath hitched and she could feel the blood rushing away from her face, mirroring the exact expression she had made when the man on the other side of the bar told her the worst news she had ever received. Brett struggled to form a word, a syllable, anything. That man, who meant so much to her probably had no idea who she was, she could only imagine how many young girls he had delivered bad news to in his line of work. She wanted to scream, or hit him, or cry, she didn’t know what she wanted to but the lightheaded feeling that was overpowering her was enough to make her reach out to the bar to steady herself. “I-you-what do you want..tonight?” She managed to get out as her knuckles turned as white as her face was from clenching the bar so hard.
Andrew had always been good with remembering names, but never the faces of those he had helped in the past. He was better at remembering the patients, rather than the family, because he spent more time checking their charts and operating on them than he did announcing good or bad news. He believed that it was because he had spent so much years of his youth memorising data and complicated medical terms, that names stuck naturally, yet the faces... Well, he was still working on that aspect.
Yet, there were some patients that he could remember by face and name, and in even stranger cases, family members of a patient he had done surgery on. They were extremely weird cases, but for some reason or other, had stuck on the back of Andrew’s head.
Still lost in his thoughts, Andrew didn’t notice the young woman looking at him from the other side of the mahogany bar until she babbled something he didn’t catch. Blinking twice, he snapped back to reality and flashed the brunette a gentle smile out of habit, still not focusing his attention on her face.
“Uh...” He thought for a second before nodding. “Yes, I’ll have a whisky on the rocks, not a lot of ice, please.”
As he ordered, his eyes fell on the girl’s face. Frowning slightly, Andrew recalled a bitter memory from a few weeks back, one that had torn at his insides. He took in the paleness of her features and the bewildered look on her face and figured that his instincts were right, the woman standing in front of him was the same broken girl that had spent almost fourteen hours sitting on a chair in the waiting room. His stomach clenched for a second, remembering the look on her face as he delivered the news of her parents’ passing.
Surprised, Andrew didn’t know what to say or what to do. He was completely taken aback, speechless, cold like a statue. He stared at the girl for a few seconds before forcing himself to do something, to react. Clearing his throat, he fixed his collar as he looked away from her face, passing a hand through his hair - his normal reaction to feeling awkward or trapped.
“I know you, don’t I?” He asked, his voice low, hoping with all his might that he was wrong. He simply didn’t need this kind of occurrence, not tonight at least.
Ghost of parents past | Brett & Andrew
It was after twelve o’clock when Andrew went into a bar named Shenanigans, taking his hat off and walking straight into the long wooden bar on the left. He sat down and waited to be attended, his eyes taking in the place with interest. Although it wasn’t much, the place reeked with personality, which was something that Andrew liked very much. He didn’t know why, and could certainly not explain it when people he went out with him asked why he had chosen certain place or the other, but the man liked to have his drink somewhere that had history or was obviously loved by its owners. And God, did he need a drink tonight.
It had been a rough night in the hospital. Andrew had lost three patients during complicated procedures and he had been the one to face the families and tell them that their loves ones had died. It was still tough on the doctor, it didn’t matter how many times he had already said the same words, watching the pain in the eyes of the person in front of him was always difficult to deal with. One of the patients had stuck with him the most though, which was the reason he was so down tonight. It had been a young girl, eleven years old, and she had been cracking jokes right before her operation, completely certain that she was going to be alright. That was not something Andrew got to see everyday, normally kids that age were terrified before going into surgery, but not this girl. Not Ana. She had been nice to all the doctors and nurses, had been laughing and making others laugh before her operation, she had even told her mother she would see her in a few hours. It broke Andrew’s heart.
Sighing heavily, he brought his eyes back to the bar, where the bartender was still handling some other business and had yet to turn around. He considered going somewhere else for a second, but thought twice about it. He had already walked downtown all the way from UW’s medical center and he didn’t plan on doing it again, two and a half hours of walking seemed enough for the evening. Resting his hand against his mouth, Andrew tried very hard not to feel horrible again. The exercise had helped calm him down, yet he still felt the wrenching feeling in his gut. He could have done more, he was sure of it, if only he had been quicker on his feet... God, he hated himself. He really, really did.
Floor wars part 1 | Nick & Andrew
Even after almost ten years of cutting skulls open on a daily basis, Andrew still didn’t know everything there is to know about neurosurgery. He was good, great even, but he still lacked experience in a lot of rare cases and he was smart enough to recognize that. It didn’t matter how many years he spent inside the hospital, a rarer case would always present itself that would cause him some trouble, no matter how prepared he thought he was.
A rare case, one he had never seen in his life until the previous morning, happened to pop into the hospital claiming to have a ‘really bad headache’. A rare case of intra-fourth-ventricular schwannoma with obstructive hydrocephalus was the diagnose he gave the patient after ten hours of MRIs and different studies done to find the real cause of the headache. Not only that, but a pre-operative diagnosis of Choroid Plexus Papilloma/Ependymoma was made and an emergency right ventriculo-peritoneal shunt done that took him about an hour before he could actually operate on his patient. A fossa craniotomy for surgical resection of the tumor followed for five hours in the operation room before Andrew could finally say that the job was done.
Stress and fatigue were the only emotions Andrew felt for at least sixteen hours of his day, which he had generously spent it in the hospital, including two other patients with simpler procedures. He still cursed the professor that had convinced all of his generation that the most tiring years were during residency, because Andrew felt like he was a resident with a higher paying salary and a bigger responsibility. He was one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and around hospitals, gossip and recommendations traveled faster than running water, which meant he was pretty popular when it came to taking care of deadly cases and long, tiring surgeries. Andrew didn’t mind - most days at least, today was definitely not one of those happy days.
Finally being able to go home at three in the morning, Andrew wanted nothing more than to fall face-first into his bed and wake up until his body recovered from the physical strain the surgery had left him. He stepped out of the elevator, practically trotting towards his door, sighing with relief. He was home and everything was quiet. He was thankful that he wasn’t going to have to fight his neighbor, Nicholas-something, today. Apparently, life liked him better after saving someone’s life.
Closing the door behind him, Andrew turned the lock and threw his keys and jacket to the closest couch, making his way directly towards his bedroom. He didn’t even take his shoes off as he sprawled onto the bed, his face hitting the pillow with force. Finally, he was going to get some well-deserved sleep.
So maybe don’t give me cold, cold shoulder Before you go, turn around, let me hold you
“Woke up and wished that I was dead with an aching in my head, I lay motionless in bed. The night is here and the day is gone, and the world spins madly on.”
Overview.
Full Name: Andrew Stevens.
Title: The Evader.
Age: 34.
Occupation: Neurosurgeon.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Face Claim: Ryan Reynolds.
Background.
Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Andrew was the pride and joy of his upperclass parents, whom expected their son to be great and achieve fame and fortune before the age of forty. His father was a respected congressman and his mother a socialite who cared more about people envying the life she had than actually living it. His life was pretty average for a privileged kid; he was enrolled into the best schools in Boston as soon as he was old enough to learn, he was part of the soccer team and his social life consisted of shallow friends his mother thought “appropriate” to hang out with. Even when he made it to high school, Andrew did not rebel against his mother’s shallow reign over his life. He had too much respect for his parents to actually try and change the plan they had for him, so he bent down his head and allowed them to tell him what to do with his life.
Andrew did not make a decision of his own until he graduated from high school and announced that he wanted to become a doctor. His parents were pleased with the decision and shipped him off to George Washington University to start his pre-med studies. For the first time in his life, Andrew got to live without having to double-think every single word that came out of his mouth or every decision that he took. He enjoyed the freedom of not being under his mother’s constant glare. In GW, he finally became his own person. He became friends with people he actually liked, found a girlfriend that was not half-girl half-robot and worked hard to earn good grades.
After the two years of pre-med, he got into Johns Hopkins University and moved to Baltimore to continue his studies. Four years later, he graduated at the top of his class and continued his residency in John Hopkins to become a neurosurgeon. In Baltimore, Andrew created a life that he enjoyed living. Sure, the stress of the hospital got to him from time to time, but he was actually happy with who he was. He had a close group of friends that he cared about, had moved in with his serious girlfriend whom was now his fiancée and was on his way to becoming a neurosurgeon. His life was practically perfect, or that’s what he had believed, until he found out his fiancée had been cheating on him with one of their mutual friends.
Completely devastated, Andrew moved out of the apartment he shared with his fiancée and finished his last year of residency in a blur. He got through by hitting the bottle hard, sleeping around with random women and spending most of his time on the hospital, avoiding his reality at all costs. Once he finished his residency, he desperately searched for a way out of Baltimore and found solace in Seattle, Washington, after he was offered the position of attending neurosurgeon in the University of Washington’s medical center.
Once in Seattle, Andrew got his act clean. He stopped drinking so much, cut down the amount of women he slept with and focused instead on his new job. He got a small studio near the hospital and mostly kept to himself, still hurt by what had happened in Baltimore. Now, four years later, not a lot has changed. He still lives in the same studio, still works unhealthy hours and still likes to drink scotch and take women home, but he’s ready to move on from his fiancée and the life he left behind in Baltimore. He’s finally opening up to others and making friends, sort of becoming the person he was before he got his heart broken.
Personality.
Andrew is a charming individual. He’s good-looking, flirty and humorous, which makes him popular with the general human species. He’s also a quick thinker, which has helped him save a life on more than one occasion. Yet, he’s not all friendly and kind, Andrew also has a side he won’t let most people see. Guarded and unforgiving, Andrew has built up walls around his heart that refuse to fall down for anyone. He can be spiteful when provoked and tends to act recklessly, even when it’s uncalled for. He won’t let people in and refuses to be anything more than casual and friendly, preferring to keep his distance when he sees he’s growing too attached.
+ charming, humorous, intelligent and kind. - arrogant, guarded, reckless and unforgiving.
Appearance.
Andrew is very good-looking, yet he tends to look untidy with his two-day beard and shaggy hair. It doesn’t mean he’s unclean though, his job doesn’t permit him to be. His style is mostly formal and his closet consists of buttoned shirts, dress pants and medical clothing.
Miscellaneous Info.
Andrew has a thing for bars with character. He likes to drink in places that are interesting and appealing to him.
He’s highly competitive, his goal is to become one of the best neurosurgeons in the world.
Andrew doesn’t know how to cook, so he mostly eats food from the hospital’s cafeteria or orders takeout.
He is not big on movies but enjoys a good novel or two from time to time.
Andrew is also very allergic to cats.
He rides a 2007 FLSTN Softail Deluxe motorcycle.