#could I just. Have not gotten a TBI so that I could actually remember shit

[sharkkweak]

Ohhh my god I have so much shit I was supposed to do over break and the second I got off school it slipped my mind like water through a fuckin sieve and now by god am I reaping what I sow

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

[shedidntfitin]

7/3/20

Ahhhh nothing says joy quite like mortality. She passed a year or two ago, and we didn’t really get to know each other too well, but still we were friends and had some good times. We both really enjoyed Bo Burnham; we marathoned him when Make Happy came out, sew whenever I scroll through Netflix, and Bo comes up, I remember. The board game night we had, the thyme Scotty got her to stab me with a spoon when she didn't know I was in the hall (fuck you scotty), that thyme she did my hair, our thyme in band. And now she’s gone. Hell, I didn’t even know she had been comatose in the hospital till a couple weeks after she had passed. 

I don’t know, I’m just in a real fucked up mood at the moment. Maybe it’s the meds, hopefully when we finish the conversion. Fuck busses and TBIs. Or maybe I just need to get out of town, live up yonder with Hayley I hope. maybe it’s the ending of my attending Peabody. Maybe it’s dysphoria. Maybe it’s just that the world is dumb. I like just suspending time and existing forever in a single moment of thyme.

There are thymes I wish I was religious, specifically when it comes to mortality; I wish I could accept the notion that there is something beyond death, but I can’t without proof. If I haven’t seen what happens after life, or enough pieces of evidence from other aspects of life from which I can deduce an afterlife, then how could I believe. But the abyss of nonexistence is something I can’t comprehend either, and that terrifies the hell out of me. Terrible irony is it’s a fear of a point where there is literally nothing (to fear). At the same thyme I’m normally really freaking out as I contemplate this, but now I’m kinda feeling nothing... and that’s what we call depression; class is over, pick up your tests on the way out. 

Augh and then there’s my brother. I helped him move this weekend, and mostly it was cause there were 5 vehicles to be driven, and I’d be the 5th driver. Then it ended up that one car no longer had insurance cause they were returning it to sis in law’s dad, but they dropped the insurance first... sew we only needed 4 drivers. I wasn’t exactly necessary. That said, that being said, and having said that, it may have been good in the end; since Thursday I’ve been half asleep, so my driving may not have been the best idea. I probably would’ve been fine, but logic says that’d be a bad idea. Still I wasn’t totally necessary, but I suppose I did cut out 2-3 hours of work, or maybe not. But mom and dad mighta stayed an extra night as we got in at midnight with my assistance, seeeeew. I did very well having little to no interaction with him, and yet I don’t think he picked up on the notion that I had no care for his presence what so ever, and that there is the intention of the piece I composed, the drum is presenting my issue well, but the audience can never understand (well, unless they’re fluent in morse code). The only way to make it clearer for him would be to directly say go to hell (actually the ending of the piece). I’m terrified for Judah. If realizes he’s in the rainbow squad, I don’t think he could even tell Dominic, and worse if he did tell Dominic, I think he’d reject the kid, and I don't think he’d realize he’s rejecting him. He wouldn’t kick the kid out or anything, but he’d certainly be a piece of shit, no doubt. I wonder if they would’ve gotten married had they no intention of sex, and how long they would’ve stayed together in that scenario. sigh, those two.

I look to the future, hoping for some delight, maybe I’ll find a job or a composition opportunity that’ll be help for a bit. we’ll see

All my love turkey lips.

Valentine (seriously though, how fucking awesome is ender’s game!)

smooches and snuggles

sweet dreams <8

[something-tofightfor]

Restart - Prompt Request

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader, mention of Billy Russo x Dinah Madani

Word count: 5000 (whoops.)

Rating: M (Language, a little bit of zest at the end)

Author’s note: For the wonderful @drinix, who came up with four GREAT prompt choices... and an additional request that I can’t spoil just yet. 

First: This is an AU. Billy’s still scarred due to the fight with Frank, but instead of Frank only coming back because Madani called him, Frank came back when he found out that Billy was still alive but didn’t remember anything… and helped him fill in the pieces, because he realized that by giving him the TBI, he got his revenge, and Billy paid for what he allowed to happen with the Castle family.  

This takes place roughly two years post events of S1; Frank and Billy have been working with Curtis for roughly 8 months to re-establish Anvil based upon Curtis’ standing within the community, Frank’s expertise and will to fight… and Billy’s offshore money, which he was able to get to through a few employees that remained loyal to him… this is also how he was able to pay for a lawyer to help him avoid jail time BECAUSE…. 

Madani is still trying to make his life a living hell, but instead of running scared from her, Frank, Curtis, Billy and You are doing whatever is necessary to clear his name and help him reestablish himself. Frank and Billy are still very tense with each other, but the beginnings of a friendship are there - and their working relationship is great. 

Author’s note II: This one might just become a short series. We’ll see. 

Summary: Billy may be back in your life, but there are a lot of things standing in the way of you leading the happy, stress free life that you want to have with him.

36: “I’m so in love with you. ”

65: “Did you do something different with your hair? ”

152: “Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night. ”

182: “I’ve wanted this for so long. ”

She’s waiting outside our place for the third time this week. He isn’t even here. “For the last time, I’m not interested in talking to you. He’s paid the price for what he did as far as I’m concerned, so I have nothing to say to you about… before.” You crossed your arms over your chest, flexing the fingers of your left hand as you did so, and you knew that the engagement ring on your finger had caught the light - and her attention. “Special Agent Madani, I’m sorry that you feel as if Billy hasn’t paid for what he did, but the documentation came out, you had your day in court. Rawlins, Wolf and Bennett were the ones behind everything. Even Frank testified that they thought what they were doing overseas was legal. They used him because they knew they could, and he was doing what he thought was necessary to survive. He’s paid restitution, he spent a year under lock and key in a hospital. Billy did some bad shit, but he was just caught in the crossfire.” You raised an eyebrow, knowing that your choice of words would get to her, but you didn’t care. It had been months of the woman’s badgering and you were sick of it.

“He shot me in the head, and you have the nerve to defend what he did by saying that he’s not responsible for his own behavior?” The woman was glaring at you, one hand on her hip, the other pushing back her hair to expose the scar on her forehead. “He used me and then tried to kill me, and you’re walking around with him and with that ring on your hand like he’s a catch, like none of it -”

“You thought he was a catch too, Agent Madani, when you were fucking him at every opportunity… or, wait? Weren’t you just doing it for information?” You stepped closer to her, hands at your sides. Keep calm, she’s a Federal Agent. “You’re pretty upset for someone that didn’t really care about him, aren’t you? Those long nights and mornings waiting at his bedside just so you were the first and last things he saw each day? Where’d that get you, Agent Madani? He doesn’t remember you. No amount of badgering me - or him, or Frank is going to change that. Can’t you just let him be?”

She was pissed, you saw the coldness flash in her eyes, the set of her jaw. “He’ll turn on you, too. He’s like a cornered animal when he’s scared, and I’m going to make him more scared than you could ever imagine. He doesn’t deserve happiness after what he did to me or to those people.” You threw your head back and laughed, shaking your head. “This is funny to you?”

“Billy is so much more than he ever let you see. You saw him at his worst, Agent Madani. You saw the broken parts of him, the hopeless ones. You saw a Billy Russo that had given up on ever being truly happy, and was just trying to survive.” She smirked.

“If he doesn’t remember me, how do you know that? How do you know what he was like with me?” Without missing a beat, you threw your hands into the air, shaking your head.

“I know it because even though I wasn’t with him at the time, I was still around after he came back from Kandahar. I saw him with women - even the ones that weren’t like you, the ones that actually liked him and weren’t trying to use him. He never let them in, he never gave them anything more than his body.” Dinah was sneering, her eyes glittering.

“What makes you so special? How can you love a monster like him? At least his appearance matches his heart now, not that he has one… but he’s sure got scars.” How dare you. “He gonna pay someone to edit out the scars in your engagement photos? What about the wedding ones? Billy Russo looking anything less than perfect is a big no-no, hmm?” Fuck you, Madani.

You turned away from her, using your key to unlock the front door of the Brownstone that you’d moved into a few months prior - just before the end of the trial - before turning to look over your shoulder at her. “You assume that I - we - think that the scars make him look less than perfect, Dinah.” You licked your lips, shaking your head. “He’s a soldier. He could have gotten worse overseas.” A thought entered your head and you turned to face her, holding the door open and leaning against the frame. “That’s just it, isn’t it? His scars - like yours - are a constant reminder of what happened… but you have all of your memories, you see them every time you look in a mirror.” You shook your head. “Billy’s scars aren’t just a reminder of what happened, they remind him of what he lost and what he did, even if he didn’t remember details.” Raising an eyebrow, you cut her off before she could speak again, quiet rage in your voice. “He deals with that every day, too. Every single time he looks in the mirror, or someone recognizes him on the street. But if you think for one minute that I would ever let someone like you tell him that they make him imperfect? That he isn’t a good man? You’re dead wrong.” Stepping inside of your home, you left Dinah Madani - SAC of the New York Homeland Security field office standing on the sidewalk with her mouth hanging open.

---

Two hours later, you were fresh out of a shower, hair pulled away from your face as you sat in bed with your laptop. Billy was gone - on the other side of the country opening the second facility - Anvil II - and he and Frank had been gone for nearly two months. It was the longest he’d been away from you since he’d been sequestered for the trial, but you reminded yourself every morning that it was worth it. Billy had been through a great deal - and eight months ago you never would have even guessed that Frank would have agreed to travel with him alone, so you were more than willing to miss him if it meant that he was working closer to having his best friend back.

He’d sent you updates of the facility’s opening - pictures of the space, pictures of the two of them in training gear from head to toe, pictures of the Bay Area, somewhere he’d promised profusely to take you to after things smoothed out and you were more settled. Unlike the empty promises Billy had made to you in the months leading up to The Incident, as you both called it, you trusted him. Billy had truly changed, and it seemed that 13 months in the hospital and the following trial had given him the motivation to become a better version of himself than he had even been before anything had happened in Kandahar. Tapping through your documents, you began working on the press release for Anvil II, making final edits before you sent it over to the West Coast office.

Even before Billy had proposed, he’d brought you on board to work as his marketing specialist, much to the delight of Frank’s wife Karen. Though the blonde hadn’t wanted the job, preferring to stick with her newspaper career, Frank had hesitated, but Billy had been firm. Anvil was coming back, and since you’d been around for the inception of the company in the first place, he’d wanted you back on board for the second round. Sighing, you closed your laptop and slid it onto the nightstand, picking up your phone. There was a message from Billy, and you opened it eagerly. Wonder what he’s up to. It was a picture of a crab holding a knife captioned ‘think he’s got anything on me?’ You laughed, shaking your head and dialing the phone. I want to hear his voice.

He answered on the second ring, voice soft as he greeted you. “Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night, Russo.” He laughed and you continued. “What made you think I was even still awake? It’s after midnight?”

“You just sent that email in, and I opened it. Figured you could use the distraction.” He’s still at the office? It’s after 9. “Working late tonight, even Frankie’s gone already. Karen surprised him yesterday and showed up.” Oh. So … I didn’t know that was an option. “I miss you.” His admission caught you by surprise, and even though Billy was much more open with his feelings and emotions than he had ever been before because he understood now that every moment was important, it was still a shock when he said things like that.

“I miss you too, Billy.” Your voice was quiet. “I wish you were here.” Way to sound needy. He sighed into the phone and you knew that he was leaning back in his chair, one hand running through his close cropped hair.

“We open in a few days, and then I’ll be home. No more than 10 days left out here. And after this, it’s just back to normal, you know? I think Frankie might be thinking about getting out of New York. Karen too… he could work out of this office, and that way I wouldn’t be a constant reminder.” Billy sounded sad. “It’s gotten better, but it’s still not going to be the same, it never will be. I fucked up with him, I know it, and I can’t make it better.” Oh, Billy. Your heart ached, knowing that despite his best efforts and Frank’s willingness to work with him - to help him - that he was right and things wouldn’t ever go back to being completely normal. “He says it’s fine, and that we’re going to move past it, but I feel like he’s always going to hold it against me, and I get it, but…”

“Hey. This is going to take time, Billy. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re both committed to this. Anvil’s going to be… it’s therapy for you guys. And it’s necessary. He stuck up for you when he didn’t have any reason to, Billy. He came back here for you. I think you’re overthinking it. Talk to him.” He agreed with you, and you spoke for a few more minutes before you yawned. “I should get to sleep, Billy. It’s almost 1, and I’m exhausted, Madani was here again tonight when I got home, and -”

“What did she want?” His voice was hard and it woke you up. “How many times am I going to have to tell her to leave you alone? You have nothing to do with her, with the two of us.” You paused, eyes widening. “You can’t answer her questions, so why is she so …”

“You remember.” It wasn’t a question and you heard him sigh before he agreed.

“I do. Some of it - a lot of it. It… I remember knowing she was using me. I remember not caring because I was using her, too. I remember not wanting to hurt her. I remember… how it felt to be with her.” I knew he would someday, but… “She was a means to an end, but I didn’t hate her.” There was a long silence and you weren’t quite sure how to respond when Billy continued, his voice strong and authoritative. “I’m so in love with you, it scares me. I probably shouldn’t be saying that right after I talk about Dinah, but it’s the truth. I never felt that way about her, not even close, and I wanted… no, need you to know that.” He paused, and you pictured him licking his lips, nose wrinkling. “It doesn’t matter what I remember about her, or what I don’t. I remember you, and I love you, and that’s all that I need to know.” It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. You’d never admit it to Billy, but your biggest fear was that he’d regain all of his memories and decide that you didn’t fit in with his idea of who he was or what he wanted. No matter how many times he told you that he knew enough to know he wanted to marry you, that he remembered why he’d left you in the first place, that he understood even while it was happening that he’d made a mistake, you still worried, still didn’t want to think about losing him for the second time. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah, Billy, me too. Eight weeks is -”

“Entirely too long?” You laughed, agreeing with him. “That’s OK, I’ll make it up to you.” He lowered his voice, rasping into the phone. “Soon as I get home, I’m gonna take care of you - and that’s a promise.” You hung up, biting your lip. I think I knew he remembered more than he said he did. Sitting on the bed, legs drawn up to your chest, you put your forehead down onto your knees, sighing. He doesn’t want her, I know that, but… he did at one point, even a little.

It wasn’t that Billy had slept with someone else - you knew that there had been many in the time between you breaking up and the night on the carousel - but it was the fact that Madani was still around, still a reminder of what he’d done that was getting to you. No, it’s not even that. You got up, moving into the bathroom to brush your teeth before changing into one of Billy’s shirts and climbing into bed. Seeing her is a reminder that you lost him once, and she’s not going to let you forget it. Despite your thoughts, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams were of Billy - just Billy.

---

Anvil II opened with fanfare two days later, the local news picking up the story and running it, complete with video of Billy and Frank leading training exercises - but it was Frank that spoke at the ribbon cutting ceremony, Billy standing behind him with an Anvil ball cap pulled down low over his eyes, the shadows partially hiding some of the scars. His beard’s back, too. It looks like it did before… You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the clip, Frank turning back to smile at Billy, the look on his face genuine. See? It’s gonna be fine, Billy. You’d watched from your office in the New York training facility, Curtis by your side and had immediately begun fielding calls from other cities, emails from people that wanted training or to discuss contracts.

Gotta leave that for now, that’s all Billy. You printed out multiple proposals, helped Billy’s secretary organize potential client lists, and come up with a new marketing campaign over the course of the remainder of the week and were exhausted by the time you headed home that Friday, already contemplating going to sleep as you sat in the backseat of your Uber. It pulled up to the sidewalk and you got out, instinctively turning your head and looking for Madani, who had showed up again on Wednesday, but she wasn’t there and you sighed in relief. Will it ever stop?

Unlocking the door, you were met with the sound of music and the smell of garlic. You immediately dropped your purse and keys on the floor, sprinting for the kitchen. He’s back? Indeed he was, and your jaw dropped as you saw Billy standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon and humming under his breath. “Hey you.” He spoke without turning around, and you stopped moving, gripping the edge of the kitchen island, staring at him.

He was dressed casually - a dark gray thermal and dark jeans, and you couldn’t help it as your eyes moved up his body. “Hey yourself, Billy.” You managed to get a few words out as your eyes made it to his shoulders, but then you gasped as you saw the back of his head. Holy shit. Billy finally turned to you, setting his spoon down on the counter top and crossing his arms as he leaned back against the edge of the granite. He cocked his head to the side, tongue poking out and into the corner of his mouth as he held back a smile.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “What are you lookin’ at?” You finally regained control over your body and released your grip on the island, moving around it and toward him. I’m not going to say anything, I’m not going to act like it’s…

“I’m just happy you’re back.” You sighed as his arms uncrossed and he stood straight up, reaching out to you and wrapping his long arms around you. “So happy.” One of his arms pulled away and you looked up, wondering what was going on.

“I’m gonna turn the stove off, since I plan on kissin’ you for the next few minutes.” His voice was low and sure, and you felt his muscles moving beneath his shirt as he reached over. Fuck, I missed him. And then he was back and focused on you, his hand settling on your waist. “Goddamn, I missed you.” You were lifted without warning, and he set you down on his side of the island, your legs parting instinctively to let him step forward. I may not say anything, but I’m sure as hell not going to ignore this. You brought your hands up to his face, fingertips tracing over his stubbled cheeks and jawline - not because you were calling attention to the jagged lines in his skin, but because you simply wanted to touch him.

“I like the beard, Russo.” He grinned, his face lighting up. “You should keep it like this for a while, it reminds me of when we met.” He nodded, and your hands moved upward as he leaned in, finally kissing you on the mouth. It started out gentle, but you hooked your legs around his thighs and pulled him closer, and that was all the motivation Billy needed.

He bit at your lower lip, tilting his head to the side and you felt his tongue moving along the small space between his teeth before he released you, taking a deep breath and then leaning in again, mouth hot on yours. Billy kissed you exactly like he’d been gone for two months, and there was both desperation and reverence in his kiss. He often kissed you like that - like he couldn’t believe that you were still there in front of him, that you were in his life, that you’d accepted him even after what he’d done… but it had never been a choice for you, not really. You sighed into his mouth, legs tightening around him as you finally did what you’d wanted to do since you’d seen him in the kitchen - you moved your hands up to his hair… and tugged on the length of it.

Although you’d wanted to cheer when you’d seen it, you hadn’t wanted to make him feel like his look for the past two years had been less than desirable… but the truth was, you were thrilled. No, it wasn’t as long as it had been, and yeah you’d miss being able to scratch your fingers against his scalp all over his head… but Billy’s hair was back. Upon visiting him in the hospital for the first time, you’d cried more tears at the sight of his shaved head than you had at the bandages covering his face. It was stupid, you knew, and he’d told you as much, his voice emotionless as he told you to leave, to let him die, that he didn’t want to remember.

Even as he’d healed, you thought as his lips moved from your mouth to your jawline and then to your neck, you hadn’t understood why he had kept his hair so short. Sure, it was easier for him to take care of, didn’t require any attention… but you - and his medical team - had discussed how maybe letting it grow out would bring memories back if he could see himself as he’d been. His face might have looked much different, but giving him back a part of himself had to help, right? But he’d been adamant that it stay short, and so you’d gone along with it. It wasn’t until the trial was over and Frank had started working with him again that he’d let it get a little longer, but this was a different story. “Somethin’ there you like?” He spoke into your neck, breath hot and damp against your skin, and you felt his teeth on you, causing you to gasp. You know exactly what you’re doing, you little shit.

You tugged harder, and he groaned, followed by a hiss that you recognized immediately. Got you. It was shorter, sure, but it was still Billy, the undercut, the slicked back locks on top…it was another sign that he was one (or maybe a few) steps closer to being fully back. His hair had been longer than you’d seen it since before The Incident when he and Frank had departed for San Francisco, but you’d figured that he’d get it cut before the opening of Anvil II. “What are you lookin’ at?” He’d pulled away, eyes bright and you dropped your hands, noticing that there was a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

Your heart slammed in your chest as you realized just how much you loved Billy, not because of what he appeared to be - but because of what he was, and you decided that you didn’t care about keeping quiet. “Did you do something different with your hair?” He grinned. “Like, use a new shampoo or something?” He playfully pushed you and you leaned in, kissing his scarred cheek, shaking your head as you pulled back, eyes moving across his face. “It looks great, Billy.” He exhaled, shaking his head.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, but…” Your hands went back up, pulling his head closer to you as you stared into his eyes. “I wanted to keep it longer, especially in the hospital, but I wasn’t there yet, not mentally.” He licked his lips. “I was a different person, and I didn’t want … I don’t want to be that person, not anymore.” You nodded, fingers combing through the strands as you pushed them away from his face and back into place, something that you’d done countless times before. “This is familiar, though.” He lowered his mouth to yours, kissing you hard. “I can’t do anything about these scars, and at this point, I don’t want to.” Your eyes widened. “They’re a part of me now, and a constant reminder of my mistakes, which I don’t want to hide from. Hiding from shit is what got me here. But I can control other things.” He smiled. “You were right about Frankie, by the way. He’s not leaving New York, he just needs a break. We talked for a long time.”

“Billy, that’s great, I told you!” You shook your head, laughing. “You two need each other.”

“Yeah, I guess we do. You’re right.” He paused. “But... Even if I’m not that guy anymore, I feel more confident like this, especially with you next to me.” He stood up straight, bringing both hands up to his head and running his fingers through his hair again, jaw set. That fucking look on his face, I can’t get enough of it, I can’t believe… “Frankie and I are the faces of this company, and this is what I want people to see.” You stared at him, heat coursing throughout your body as he effortlessly switched from your Billy to Lieutenant William Russo, Anvil CEO. “I made my choices. I made my bed, and now I gotta lay in it - this is who I am and who I’m gonna be, and I’m not gonna hide.”

You’d had long talks with him both in the hospital and at home about how he wasn’t able to remember everything, but that he remembered always feeling like he was waiting for things to go bad. Rawlins was unpredictable, and even though Billy had been confident in his actions, he was never confident in the other man or his expectations - or in his ability to deliver on the promises of protection that were made. Billy’s time with Anvil at first had been a facade; though he’d been invested in training people to do good when necessary, to provide help and assistance, to lead others toward success, it was, in reality, him hiding behind the company - and the relative safety it had brought him. The goal had been to eventually get out from under Rawlins and what had happened as a result of Cerberus, but everything had literally gone to shit before that could happen, and you’d watched from afar, from the safety of the sidelines - right where Billy had put you. 

You nodded, your eyes roaming over his entire body as you thought. “And that’s only possible because of you. Because of you and Frankie and Curt… and even because of those goddamn lawyers and Karen, too.” Ha! I can’t wait to tell them he said that. “This is my second chance, and I’m not wastin’ it.” He took your hand in his, his fingers playing with your ring before he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly. “We got a long way to go, but this is a good start… and I’m not lettin’ anyone… or anything get in my way. Not again.”

Billy kissed you again, his free hand cupping your cheek. “Not going anywhere, Russo.” You shook your head once, your own free hand moving across his face, fingertips touching the crater on his cheek, just visible above his beard before moving up to trace along the curved scar next to his eye. “I hate that all of this happened to you,” you whispered, feeling your voice catch. “But I’m not going anywhere. Your fight is my fight now.” His expression was serious but the look in his eyes said everything, and in that moment, you knew your fears were unfounded - Billy wasn’t going anywhere, and you had nothing to worry about. “Now,” you cleared your throat, allowing yourself to smile again. “Now, take me to bed so I can pull on that hair some more.”

And just like that, his mood shifted again and Billy’s eyes darkened as he removed his hand from yours, scooping you up. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck as you inhaled his scent, you let Billy carry you up the stairs to your bedroom, thinking of nothing except the way his hands and mouth were going to feel on you.

---

[jediannsolo]

Graduate (Shadow and Meï Interaction I wrote eons ago)

Shadow stared at the letters “109 S.R.”, which had been hastily stenciled onto his new mailbox just this morning. He sighed, flexing his hands anxiously from inside his pockets as he looked around the suburban neighborhood with a grimace.

Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t it had been a condo or an apartment at the end of a hallway, where surely no one but the groundskeeper would pass by? At least the groundskeeper alone would be the only fool passing judgement instead of the whole division.

With his back to the street, he couldn’t truly tell... but he could have sworn he heard a couple of vehicles slow their trek before taking off again. Most likely making sure their eyes were not deceiving them. After all, his unique appearance was unlike anyone else around for regions. They must have known who he was.

“Would you give it a rest? Burning a hole through the mailbox won’t help you blend in.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing quietly. Meï had arrived. There was no need to turn around to confirm it. How could he ever mistake that breathy, cabaret-esque voice spoken with the inflection of a scornful mother? She had spent enough time on his metaphorical tail for even her aura to become unmistakable. However, she did have the keys to the place, so there was a sliver of relief in sensing her presence today.

He could go disappear within it.

“You wouldn’t have to worry so much about getting recognized if you had gotten yourself a trim like I had told you.”

He fixed his mouth into a straight line, biting down on his lip. He knew better than to have this discussion with her. Always the same responses.

They’re not like regular hair.

They won’t grow back to a sharp point.

It’s not a myth. Look it up.

At this point, he was convinced she only said it to bother him.

Almost as if she was confirming his thoughts, the grin in her voice suddenly became very evident. “How about I set up an appointment for Tuesday?”

“Meï.”

“Alright, alright, I know...” her tone jumped an octave, obviously coming to the same conclusion as him. “I just want you to push those worries away!”

Meï stood beside him, their eyes still yet to meet. She stole a quick glance to her vehicle, which held a precious gift she was hoping to give to him today. ‘But only if he is ready,’ she reminded herself.

Her eyes then scanned Shadow and she held back a snort over his chosen wardrobe. Only this man would wear a long sleeved shirt in the middle of a heat wave. He is more self-conscious about his scarred pelt than she originally thought. She followed his gaze to the black letters painted on the off-white mailbox and she mirrored his aloof posture. “You know, it’s just your initials,” she tried to relieve his apparent anxiousness. “It’s not like your name is being paraded around for the world to see. Plus, most people don’t even know your name. It’s a bunch of superficial infamy—”

She stopped short at seeing Shadow turn his heel and walk to the entrance, ignoring her. Any other day, she probably would have snapped at him for constantly engaging others like a common sociopath. But today was different. This was supposed to be a milestone day. He was finally out of the Institute and into the parole program! Beings with the type of criminal history he’s had only dream of this opportunity! Why wasn’t he joyful in any way?

Was he just tired? Annoyed? Disgusted? Meï even briefly wondered if he was upset over not being able to pick out his own home and that he had to depend on what the landlords provided for him. But that didn’t seem like the type of thing Shadow would worry about. Yet there he was; leaning against the window, looking into the pre-furbished house with the most intense disinterest she had ever seen from an Institute graduate.

He’s hard to read. Always has been.

After another quick glance at her car to make sure her gift was okay, Meï approached him with sincere caution. She had the feeling that addressing the subject directly would encourage him into shutting her out. She may not have known him for very long, but at least she knew the best way to get him to listen to her is to start with an apology.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that,” she said.

“Like what,” he muttered without breaking his gaze forward.

“Like it’s easy to just... put everything you went through behind you and just be happy again.”

“‘Again’?”

“Oh, you know what I mean!” She puffed her cheeks momentarily, suppressing her natural penchant for arguments. “Maybe this isn’t quite what you wanted, but... I am here as the middleman between you and TBI. As long as no more accidents happen, you never have to walk into that building again.”

Shadow wordlessly turned to look at her for the first time since she arrived.

They locked eyes and Meï smiled, hoping that his spirits were lifted far enough for her to feel safe giving him his housewarming gift.

Little did she know that she had just said the wrong thing.

“So... picture just a couple of years from now— four at the very most!” She said as she reached for the keys in her pocket and unlocked the door. “Trials will finally be over, you’ll be virtually unshackled, this house no longer has to be your home and the wild world is yours to see... isn’t that exciting?!”

The hedgehog coughed. Not in direct response to her, she noted. Furrowing his brow, Shadow entered the house with a “tsk”.

Meï pursed her lips. Her patience had run out. Without thinking, she grabbed his sleeve and spun him around to face her. His indignant stare was venomous. But so was hers.

“What is your problem?!” She didn’t mean to shout. But there it was.

“You want to know what my problem is?” He growled his words, his spikes starting to curve with his rising fury. “I waited ten years for the moment I could walk out of Betterment and never look back. And this,” he gestured towards his very beige living space, “is what I get. My name still deemed unremovable from the watch list, a starter house in a manufactured neighborhood so damn packed that it looks like a cubicle grid, and—!”

He stopped short, staring into her eyes for a second longer before turning away. Meï sighed.

“And a warden constantly at your heels making sure you don’t backtrack even once,” she finished his thought for him. “I know. I’m sorry. This is... this is a new procedure.”

“It’s not “new”. It’s just mine. No one else has to go through this shit except for me.”

“Shadow.”

“Deny it.”

Her words caught in her throat. She couldn’t deny it. There was no one else in the institute that had the powerful and unpredictable capabilities that Shadow had. They needed to make double and triple sure he was reformed. It would be an arduous process and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it at this point.

But it didn’t mean he should be so hopeless.

“It’s... it’s just temporary,” she tried to reason.

“My entire sentence was ‘temporary’.”

“Dammit, Shadow. Stop this defeatist attitude. Fine. This is not freedom. But it’s a hell of a lot better than a padded cell, isn’t it?”

Shadow growled in response. It was absolutely pathetic that he had to choose between the lesser of two evils. He’s been patient enough as it is. However, it’s not like he actually remembered the majority of the chaos he had unleashed upon the land. It all happened too fast. It was all instinctual, like being stuck on automatic. Maybe his suffering was actually  justified. Maybe they were being foolishly kind.

Maybe... he truly deserved to rot away in a cell.

Meï observed Shadow sitting on his sofa, swimming in his own thoughts.

Or drowning in them.

She sat gingerly at the opposite end of the couch. She wasn’t sure for how long, but she allowed herself to sit in the silence that Shadow was accustomed and attached to. Just the sound of a passing vehicle or the throaty coo of a Tranquill periodically breaking the silence. It felt like hours, but she was sure it was much less.

“... couple of years, huh?”

She nearly jumped a foot in the air, despite how low his voice was. Meï was definitely not expecting him to speak first. “Y-yeah. I mean, as long as there’s no regression, you know?”

“Hmm,” Shadow looked around, drinking in his new surroundings for the first time since he entered. “I suppose that’s... shorter than ten years.”

Meï grinned. “Yes, definitely.”

Silence again.

She didn’t mind it as much this time around.

And she was beginning to think he may be ready for that gift after all...

[agape-l0ve]

hello i am back lol

I think the last few times I wrote out a blog was when jj was deployed.  tumblr was a really helpful tool for me at that time because it allowed me to be completely vulnerable without having to burden anyone else!

I was looking back at my old posts and it’s so interesting to read where I was back then and to see the progression of how much life changes in such short bursts of time! So here’s just an update for my future self -- warning, it’s not very exciting hahaha

So, since jj returned in dec 2018, it’s honestly been great! We saw 2019 and 2020 as a time to catch up on all the lost time we had in the previous years.  No more exercises, training, or trips away, life actually went back to normal - which was weird.  I look back and think about how we’ve only been in this lifestyle since 2016, but so much can happen within a span of 4-5 years.  I’ve finally graduated from CFCC’s OTA program, which was honestly such a blessing because our class was able to complete our requirements before COVID got really bad.  Well, I should say most of our class.  As of right now, I think only one more person is finishing up their FW II, which is crazy because these days, I find myself thinking about how I was just finishing up HH and transitioning into peds outpatient in FW II exactly one year ago.  

I’ll talk a bit about my FW II experiences.. since they were not the greatest lol.

Home health was really interesting.  I was honestly DREADING it because 1, I don’t like spending long amounts of time in the car and 2, I hate being in the car with just one other person - especially someone I don’t feel100% comfortable with. Also, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of going to people’s homes either.  I think this placement really stretched me and pushed me out of my comfort zone in every aspect.  Looking back now, I genuinely enjoyed the experience for what it was! Would I voluntarily do it again? It depends! (which is a step up from a solid no) 

Our area covered the extremely rural areas of our surrounding counties and it definitely served as a huge culture shock.  But everyone was so sweet and grateful for any help they could get and I will always remember some of the most awesome patients I got to meet.  The negative effects of this rotation mostly came from my supervisor.  She was an awful human being, but thankfully, she was at least a good OTR.  However, that being said, I saw ZERO treatments! Even when I tried to tell my professor, NO ONE LISTENED OR BELIEVED ME.  It was extremely frustrating because I had all of these assignments to do and all of them were about mf interventions.  Anyways, my OTR was untimely, rude, unapologetic, and lacked empathy out of her ass.  I was so ready to be done with her and thankfully, she didn’t ruin HH as an option for me - just wasted my time with her.  If someone could win an award for the amount of countless hours they could talk about themselves, it would be her.  9 hours every day, non-stop, talking about herself and how great she is and her bf. omfg JUST GET ME OUT OF THE CAR

FW II was supposed to be really exciting for me.  I was done with HH and moving onto what I cared about the most and what I really felt passionate about.  Helping children in clinic! It was honestly my dream.  It was a multi-disciplinary site with SLP, PT, and OT. Everyone seemed nice and it just so happens that my OTR at this placement was a former Marine and he and I had a lot in common paper.  Boy, was I in for it.  He turned out to be an extremely narcissistic man who thought the world of only himself.  He shit talked EVERYONE behind their backs, but was extremely fake to their face.  Him and the front office administrator would gossip every moment they got, like they were 13 year old bullies.  He suffered from several TBIs when he was enlisted, so it’s safe to say that his temperament issues and memory loss were definitely a result of those.  But the worst part is, he refused to admit it.  He would shit talk the boss, the PR manager, the PTs, the clients, and just about everyone in between.  And he brought 100% of his personal life into this, which I get if we’re co-workers, that’s fine.  But as your student, I don’t need to know about that kind of crap.  On top of that, I was his first FW II student... lol of course I was.  So he knew nothing about how to help me, guide me, or teach me. Instead of looking at the informational packed my professor handed to him, he puts that in the closet the entire 9 weeks I’m with him and proceeds to continuously throw me under the bus when it came to doing my assignments and treating patients.  Mind you, I didn’t get to treat anyone in HH, so this is now my first real opportunity to start treating patients throughout the entirety of my program.  Safe to say, I was nervous.  But I pulled through and did my best and I forced myself to become really confident really quickly.  I was awesome at it and I was honestly very proud of the practitioner I was striving to be.  He did help me from time to time and I’d like to believe there were moments where he was genuine and tried his best to help me.  But none of those times outweigh the flustercluck that was that clinic.  Anyways, I came out pretty salty about the whole thing, but I didn’t let it ruin my passion for helping children, as that is what I aspire to do in the future.  I made strides with kids my OTR wasn’t able to connect with for months.  And instead of encouraging me and allowing me to fulfill my duty as a student, he re-books them with another therapist and anyone in healthcare knows how that detrimental that process is to their progression and tells me that he’s just trying to be nice and share his case-load with other people.  No, you’re purposefully taking them away from me because you can’t stand the thought of someone being better than you at something.  His pride and arrogance will forever taint my experience there and I have no intention of going back - which is a true shame because I absolutely fell in love with the kids and some of the other therapists there.  Oh well, good riddance to both my HH OTR and my peds OTR.

Luckily through it all, COVID was just beginning and it only delayed my graduation process a few weeks.  I was extremely fortunate to be one of the first few in my class to finish up and start studying for my NNCOT exam!

Studying for my exam was a time and a half.  I honestly had -0% confidence in myself to pass this test.  I knew it was coming, I knew I had to eventually take it.. but time just snuck up on me so quickly and before I realized, it was my time.  I studied for about 3 months, graduating in June and taking my exam in Sept.  I took a short break immediately following graduation and then read an entire 3,000 page textbook, took over 300 pages of notes, and took practice tests and listened to podcasts/watched youtube videos.  It was a lot of information but it was honestly so rewarding to think about how much knowledge I’ve truly gained from these past few years.  Fast forward, Sept 23, 2020 was the day I took my test and it was great! A lot less structured of a process than they make it sound and I was able to complete my exam in about 2 hours and passed a few weeks later! I got my license and everything was great!

For whatever reason, during this time, I felt in my heart that it was time to get another dog.  This topic kept coming up un-provoked in EVERY single conversation we had with others and it just felt right.  Being home now, I was able to spend every day with Teddy, rather than taking him to daycare.  Because of the uncertainties of COVID at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable taking him in, nor did I want to drive if I didn’t have to.  Teddy became extremely depressed, always sleeping in the closet or between the toilet and wall, which are places he goes only when he’s hurt or sick.  I would try to play with him and take him out, but he had lost all motivation to do anything.  It hurt my heart that I couldn’t give him what he wanted or what he needed.  So, after a lot of thought and research, Chester came into our lives! Teddy’s breeder had JUST had a litter of puppies (on the same day I took my exam!) and I figured it was a good time to raise another puppy, since I have the time and no outstanding commitments right now.  We picked him up in Nov, right before Thanksgiving and jj’s brother was in town to help us.  It was a looooong day, 5 hours there and 5 hours back.  I think we got home around 2am, but since then, my life has just been on hold while I raise Chester.

Teddy was not happy at first.  I could tell he was confused and upset that another dog was here.  But over time, they have become much closer and share experiences that has helped him become a better brother.  Chester is a lot of work lol but he’s brought so much joy to all of us and I love him so much.  He’s currently 5 months, losing all his baby teeth, and getting into everything and Teddy has been enjoying the company (in moderation lol).

In regards to our life, we were really hoping to PCS back home summer of 2020, but it didn’t happen.  It was pretty disappointing because we’ve been on the east coast the whole time we’ve been active duty.  A lot of our friends moved either back to their hometowns or to the west coast and it felt really unjustified that we were stuck here, but even so, we are making the most of it.  We would have had to move through COVID and we wouldn’t have gotten Chester, so those are definitely some benefits of staying put.  Since we’re here for a bit, we’ve decided to purchase a house! Our friends down the street are selling theirs and we figured it’d be a good financial idea to start allocating our rent into a cheaper mortgage.  It has a double yard and it’s a bit newer than our current rental.  So we are hoping to move around June! I’m excited, it’s kind of a fresh new start without having to be too big of a move for now.  

Mentally, I’ve been fluctuating.  I have a lot of self-inflicted guilt from not working at the moment.  And yes, I agreed to get Chester and it’s a full-time job to watch him and not have to crate him all day.  I want him to enjoy his puppyhood and I want to be here with him as well, so I do cherish these moments that I can have with both him and Teddy.  However, I just feel like it’s the right thing to do or it’s what I’m supposed to do. I graduate and then I work! But being here, it’s just not the path for me.  Besides, I keep reminding myself that there are no job openings in my immediate area right now anyways.  So for now, I’m just spending my days with the pups and working on keeping the house clean, which does bring me a lot of joy.  I need to learn to enjoy life and not worry about what I’m not doing.  To help myself, I signed up for transcription services again, so hopefully that’ll bring in some money and take up some time.  I think it’s the need to feel productive and I haven’t had that in a while.  But with COVID, I’m sure that’s a very popular feeling.  

I think that’s about it for now, that’s what’s been going with me the past few years! I can’t wait to read this in 2 years and hopefully, I won’t be in the same place lol

byee

[holtzmecloser]

Part 2 

part 1 here

Previously  (and also) 

Johnson: so actually, he DIDN’T know that I knew Sweetie until, well, here let me show you. 

you big fucking dork

fuck

text Johnson. ask for my number.  

Holster jerks up so quickly that he hits his head against Ransom’s bed. he winces, rubbing circles into a tender spot on his skull. His mouth falls open when he rereads the answer. He feels his heart drop out of his chest. 

Johnson. 

Fucking John Johnson knows Sweetie. 

Johnson who knows everyone and their mother (so not as surprising as it should be). But also this is Johnson, who plays with the Las Vegas Aces. Johnson who played a game against the Bruins last December when he could’ve dropped by Epikegster but didn’t. 

Holster’s eyes widen as he remembers Epikegster: how much shit was going around online about Parse showing up out of nowhere. More importantly, he remembers the way Kent spoke and how it left such an impression on him. 

It was like fucking déjà vu. Like they didn’t need to make shitty small talk. He and Kent just--clicked. 

or maybe they clicked a long time ago. 

Maybe he sometimes thinks that Sweetie knows too much about Kent. Or that they get a little too emotional when anyone tries to smack talk Jack, or Jeff Troy for that matter. 

Jeff Troy, the liney and best friend of Kent Fucking Parson. 

Holster closed mouth screams. Because he wasn’t ready for this next shit. He was expecting maybe rejection or some casual chirp about coming off anon. Not that Holster would’ve fessed up if Sweetie (Kent?) hadn’t figured out it was him on their own. 

Slowly, he gets out of bed. He paces the room, wringing his hands nervously. What is he even supposed to do with this information? What was there to do about finding out that one of his best friends could want him back? And that maybe whatever complex feelings he has for Sweetie’s interpretation of Kent aren’t misplaced affection because Sweetie IS Kent. 

Holster sighs. Well, at least he knows for sure that’s he’s liked a grand total of three people in his life: Perry, Ransom...and now Sweetie. He keeps pacing. He glances up at Ransom’s bed, which is vacant because he’s staying at March’s tonight. 

He needs advice, and he sure as fuck can’t ask Perry right now. He heads downstairs, hopping someone’s home. Maybe not Bitty; who knows what he might say about Holster having a multi-year crush on a person he MAY have met previously in real life? 

Who the fuck was he kidding? How else would Sweetie know Johnson? 

He creeps down the attic staircase gently. Cautious of waking up anyone already asleep. He spots Lardo’s door, half open with light flooding outward. He approaches slowly, knocking the door a few times before pushing it further open. 

Lardo’s sitting in her beanbag chair, typing. “What’s up?” she asks absent minded. 

“I think I fucked up,” he says. 

“How?”

“I think I’m in love? Maybe?”

“With who?” 

“Kent Parson,” he confesses. 

Lardo’s back tenses. Her head snaps up. “What?”

Holster runs a hand through his hair, he starts pacing. “I don’t know. It’s fucking confusing but we don’t talk like friends ok? We’re fucking domestic and supportive of each other. And maybe that’s just what friends fucking do. But I’ve never seen you and thought ‘I would spend the rest of my life doing whatever to just be around her.’ No offense.” 

“None taken,” “but maybe back up a little? How are you friends with him?”

“Them,” Holster corrects without thinking. He opens his mouth to take it back because the last thing he needs is to out-- 

“Ok cool,” Lardo says nuetrally. “Duly noted. Now spill.” 

She gestures to the desk chair to her right. Holster reluctantly sits, knowing it’s more for Lardo’s sanity than anything. He starts from the beginning: being bored, his tbi and how he wanted somewhere to get his frustration out once he was cleared for screens, his unlikely friendship with a bnf who acted so completely different than what Holster was expecting, their closeness and the only times they’ve gotten into arguments (which has mostly been lately). He suck in a huge breath once he’s done. 

Lardo nods thoughtfully the entire time, resting her chin in her hands. 

“So are you gonna call them?”

“I don’t know,” he says. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not the same when Sweetie’s more than just a url. It’s real.”

“They were always a real person,” Lardo reasons. 

“You know what I mean,” Holster grumbles. 

Lardo sighs. “Holster, you wanted your ex? Well they’re taken. You wanted Ransom? Well he’s taken. You wanted Kent Parson and Sweetie AND they happen to be the same person and want you back? Bro.” 

“Yea, yea,” he says with resignation. “Don’t get in the way of my own happiness. Got it.” 

“Not just that,” she says. 

“Then what?”

“Don’t chicken out because you’re scared.” 

Holster snorts. “Scared of what?”

“You tell me,” she says neutrally. 

Holster stares at his hands. He remembers the first time he ever talked to Sweetie. They were arguing because Sweetie told them to stop being a dick with all the anon messages he’d been sending them. It wasn’t the first time he’s hurt Sweetie without meaning to. He can’t do that anymore, not to them. 

“You ever hear two sides of the same story?” he asks instead of answering. 

“Chyeah,” Lardo agrees. 

“You ever hear the second story and think ‘fuck, I had no clue. what the fuck am I supposed to do now?’” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m scarred that I’ll disappoint them at best,” he admits. “Maybe I’ll fuck them up more. I don’t think--”

“Holster,” Lardo interupts. “You’re getting worked up about shit that might not happen.”

“But what if it does?” he demands. 

“What if it doesn’t?” 

His jaw goes slack. If he doesn’t fuck Kent up--if he and Kent could just be happy? He sees Kent’s face, maybe it’s tomorrow or next month or five years from now, just smiling back at him. 

That’s worth everything, he thinks. 

Holster gets up, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Lardo calls after him. 

“I need to see a man about a sweetie,” Holster yells as he heads downstairs. He puts on a hoodie and pair of sneakers. He runs until he gets to the pond, finding a dry patch of grass to sit down on. 

He stares at his phone again, the clock reads just after midnight. He might be too late...for talking tonight at least. But he has to try. He scrolls through his contacts, clicking on a J with a goalpost next to it. 

Holster wheezes, wondering if excitement smells like sweat or maybe something soft and sweet. He wonders what water smells like, or Kent for that matter. He grins to himself as he clicks call. Maybe he’ll have time to figure that out. 

“Hey Holtzy,” Johnson says after the second ring. “Took you long enough, man.” 

Holster chuckles to himself. “No kidding.”