invsblstrngs

[invsblstrngs]

closed starter for @helldivine

he is pretty sure he'd rather be doing transsphenodial surgery, which is his least favorite type of surgery, than whatever this is. here's the thing, the truth. archer walsh was not at all in tune with his emotions, not anymore, anyway. he used to think he was, way back when, but when he took the time to really dig deep, he knows that he had always put up a wall, climbable, perhaps, but a wall nonetheless. he doesn't fully blame them for leaving. he did, when it had happened, his heart so broken he wasn't sure he'd finish med school, but time and therapy had helped he realize that he was at fault, too, and that a relationship that started when you were in high school, statistically, wasn't going to last.

but still, that didn't change what he did blame them for. how if they had been honest with him, they wouldn't be in this weird in-between place where he felt so angry, resentful, hurt, and yet so confused about the way he viscerally reacted, still, to this person who he had been in love with more than a decade ago. how, while older, their smile was still the same one he remembered his knees getting weak for. he has to remind himself what they're here for: a teenager, shared between them, unknown to him up until two months ago.

It's silent as he thinks about his words carefully, but then, he sighs, hand going to rub at the back of his neck. "how are you liking florida?" he asks, because god he is a coward, afraid to dive in, to know what, and how, and most importantly why.

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alex doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen anything outside the walls of seaglass hospital, it’s one of those weeks that lean more towards ninety hours than fifty, the kind where he gets his hands dirty on actual surgeries than he does doing consults across the board. He has a consult this morning, though, which is easier than putting his hands into someone’s brain first thing, so he’ll take it. There’s a tablet in his hand with the patients' chart on it, and he skims through it while he makes his way through the halls, and that's when he spots a flash of brown hair he doesn't immediately recognize. "dr. castellanos?" he calls out down the hall, adding a quickness to his step to catch up to her. and it takes time for him to look up from his tablet to finally look at the doctor who has stopped in front of him. he has to process it, for a few moments, feeling rooted to the ground as he stares at the woman in front of him. there's no way, he thinks, and then, this must be a prank, before he realizes how next to impossible that truly is. coincidence, is what he lands on, the safest bet.

"i am in fact, not kidding you," he replies, finally, in that annoyingly confident way that always seems to work, as he offers an extended hand to shake. "dr. alex walsh, it's nice to officially meet you," he doesn't know how to play this, not truly. not only is it an hr nightmare, but god is already a distraction, especially the way her familiar perfume falls around him, or the way it triggers scent memory, and it's reminding him of the touch of a hand, the press of lips. he blinks rapidly and tries to stear himself away from that line of thought, but the air around them is thick, heavy with tension.

she's throwing a lot at him right now, accusations and questions and he's left tripping over all of them. he's not sure what she wants from him, exactly, while he stands in the middle of a hallway where they both currently work, where anyone can overhear them. he pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, and finally, speaks again. "I don't think anyone can pretend to not know you once they've had the pleasure to, " he tries, and then sighs. "I hope you don't think I've planned this somehow, considering I don't do the hiring, and I didn't know you were a doctor before today," he tries not to think about all of the things he knew about her before today and closes his eyes for a single moment. "more like five foot six with a mouth that..."he stops himself, his brain screaming hr nightmare loud and clear. Suddenly, he needs a drink. "nothing to worry about in there but even if there was," he stops, softens, looks at her gently "I wouldn't allow the trouble to touch you," he promises, and then, shifts from one foot to the other. "do you think we could start again, in the context that we have a patient that these surgeon hands could potentially save?"

closed starter: alex walsh!! (@invsblstrngs) || location: seaglass hospital!! - late morning

dalia was skimming a patient's chart, walking and reading, which was the kind of multitasking that could get someone killed in most places — but not seaglass hospital. here, it was a way of life. the heels of her boots clicked against the pristine tile, echoing faintly through the corridor just outside of neuro. the floor smelled like antiseptic and expensive coffee, and she was already halfway through forming a mental plan for the consult ahead when — ❝ dr. castellanos? ❞ the voice stopped her in her tracks. not because of the words — because of the voice. familiar. warm. just rough enough around the edges to make her heart do that thing it had absolutely no business doing at work. she turned slowly, already knowing what she’d see. and there he was. archer walsh. her stomach flipped. then dropped. then tried to crawl its way up her throat. the man who had her pressed against a door a few weeks back — her dress bunched at her waist, mouth hot against her collarbone, hands everywhere — was now standing in front of her in scrubs and a hospital badge clipped to his chest like he was anyone. like he was just another surgeon. except he wasn’t. he was him. ❝ …you’ve gotta be kidding me. ❞ it slipped out before she could stop it, dry and barely above a whisper. her fingers tightened on the chart in her hand. she straightened reflexively, spine stiffening like she could make this moment feel less personal, less intimate, if she just looked more professional. ❝ you’re dr. walsh? ❞ she asked, blinking slowly. then let out a breathless laugh. ❝ of course you are. ❞ because of course the man who’d vanished into the night like he was made of smoke and bad timing, turned out to be the neurosurgeon on staff. her coworker. the one she’d be passing in hallways and seeing in scrub pants and very distracting forearms. the universe wasn’t just cruel — it was bored and trying to be funny. he looked good. better than she remembered. like confidence and the kind of charm that should come with a warning label. she didn’t look away. ❝ so, what’s the next move, doc? ❞ her tone was casual, sharp around the edges. ❝ pretend we’ve never met? ❞ she watched him, gauging his reaction, every inch of her composed on the outside. but inside? she was already running through possible scenarios. was he married? did he know before she did? had he orchestrated this somehow, or was the universe just that cruelly ironic? the tension in the air had a pulse. she could feel it in her ribs, between her shoulders, in the back of her neck. dalia finally glanced down at her chart, then back up at him, slow and deliberate. the silence stretched for a second too long. it gave her enough time to wonder what he was thinking — if he regretted it. if he even remembered. finally, she glanced down at the chart in her hand and then back up at him. ❝ we working the same case? ❞ she asked, tilting her head slightly. ❝ or are you just here to remind me what questionable life choices look like when they’re six-foot-two with surgeon hands and an ego to match? ❞ a pause. a breath. a beat passed. her tone softened — only a fraction — but the armor was still firmly in place. ❝ …i’m guessing there’s no rule in the employee handbook about this, ❞ she added dryly, ❝ but if there is, i’d rather not be the one getting hr’s first scandal of the fiscal year. ❞

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the look on alex's face when vivienne approaches and accosts him, is one that can only be described as unnerved. "what is wrong with you," is the first thing out of his mouth because jesus christ on a bike she's a little bit terrifiying when she's annoyed with him, which is more often than he's willing to admit. "your dad is a very manipulitve man, viv. have you met him? one minute he's asking me about a patient and the next we're shaking hands and agreeing to meet for golf. I don't even play golf." he grimaces at the very idea. "I wish we could bond over cars, but he insists that it's the perfect weather this time of year," he finally stops, and runs a hand through his hair, "I could get you out of it, but that would mean spending time with your dad, alone."

    at   giselle's   with   archer   walsh   …  @invsblstrngs

     “   what's   this   i   heard   of   you   accepting   an   invitation   to   go   𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆   with   him   ?   ”   the   inquiry   happened   even   before   a   proper   𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   could   be   offered   by   either   of   them   .   “   you   cannot   do   that   .   now   he   expects   me   to   join   for   whatever   reason   and   ,   𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍   ,   i   love   the   man   to   death   but   i   really   do   not   want   to   spend   an   entire   morning   golfing   .   i'm   𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄   at   it   .   you   two   love   cars   ,   why   don't   you   bond   over   that   ?   ” 

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most days are filled to the brim with patients, surgeries, consults, and the smell of lemon pinesol. nights, occasionally, end in the bar across the street from the hospital, a beer or two down the hatch before he's heading home in search of a good nights sleep before he does it all again the next day. but on the rare occasion that he's off the next day, alex likes do indulge. the bar is bustling, the music is just right, and the whiskey in his glass is hitting just the right way. when the person next to him mentions shots on her, alex wants to protest, but truthfully, what could it hurt? "well that depends on what we're drinking to, the alcohol must match the occasion."

@palmviewstarters // link in bio

❝  shots  on  me  tonight,  ❞  she  declares,  head  turning  to  the  person  next  to  her  as  she  leans  against  the  bar.  her  only  plan  for  the  night  is  to  dance  the  night  away  and  forget  all  of  her  problems.  ❝  what  are  we  having  ?  ❞

[invsblstrngs]

mumu blog exclusively for @palmviewfm writing archer alexander "alex" walsh penned and loved by theo.

archer alexander walsh → intro • pinterest • connections

[invsblstrngs]

pinterest • wanted connections

FULL NAME:  Archer Alexander Walsh

NICKNAME(S): Archie by his family only, Alex to everyone else

AGE: 38

DATE OF BIRTH:  February 16 1988

CURRENT LOCATION:  Oceans Landing #410, Oceans Edge, Palmview Grove, Florida.

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Austin, Texas

ETHNICITY: Caucasian 

GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual.

RELIGION: believes in god, but does not practice religion.

LANGUAGES: English, and Spanish (not fluently, but he grew up in Texas!)

OCCUPATION:  Neurosurgeon at Seaglass Hospital

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Derek Shepherd, Kelly Severide, Max Bankman, Conrad Hawkins.

FACECLAIM: Glen Powell

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 6'1

WEIGHT: 176 lbs

HAIR COLOR: dirty blonde

EYE COLOR: green, with a blue rim.

PERCINGS: none currently.

TATTOOS: none yet

SCARS|MARKS: a scar on his knee from falling as a child, freckles across his body.

SIGNATURE SCENT:  Santal 33

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: none.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES:

PHOBIAS: 

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER:   Emily Walsh

FATHER:  James Walsh

CHILDREN: Poppy Walsh

SIBLINGS:  Cooper, Olivia, Daphne. 

RELATIONSHIPS: Bethany Garcia (ex fiancee, mother of his child)

 PETS: a dog named Chilequile, chile for short.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

FAVORITE FOODS:   chimichurri steak salad, the brisket sandwich and mac and cheese from a place back home that he still hasn’t been able to find a good match to here in Woodside, tacos al pastor.

FAVORITE COLOR: Forest green

LIKES: a tumbler of whiskey after a long day, poetry, craft beer, especially a fruited sour, country music, but none of that ra-ra America stuff, cars and motorbikes, he has a small collection of vintage cars and owns a motorcycle.

DISLIKES: he’s getting used to the cold weather, but still kind of hates it, micromanagement, and formal events, he’s good at them, he just hates them.

HOBBIES: Outdoor activities such as hiking, fishing, and horseback riding (he boards a horse just outside of town!) cooking (a novice, but he likes trying new recipes), baseball (he’s on a league!), running (he runs every morning, and has done a marathon!), the guitar (not a professional, but he can play a few songs!) airplanes (he recently got his pilot license!)

positive traits: charismatic, dedicated, empathetic, lionhearted, philanthropic.

negative traits: hedonistic, cocky, restless, people pleaser.

aesthetics: stetsons hanging off racks, pick-up trucks riding through the mud, the scent of antiseptic cleanser and santal 33, espresso shots in the mid-afternoon, boot-cut Levi jeans, brain scans, and the constant beep beep beeping of medical devices, newly discovered dad jokes, walks in misty fog surrounded by the scent of trees and grass. strong hands wrapped around warm skin. The ache of knowing you’ll never be enough. 

biography

PAST

Austin, Texas, February 1988

Born early in the morning, Archer Alexander Walsh is the last-born son and child of the Walsh family. With three older siblings, Alex was the stereotypical younger brother, always around, trying to be just like his older siblings, be a part of everything, and manage somehow to get into everything.  He could usually be found in a tree, covered in mud, or playing some sort of sport with his friends.

With his parents’ careers- his mother a teacher, and his father a politician (the mayor!) he was a kid with a lot of empathy and a strong sense of Texas pride. Both of his parents were dedicated to their jobs and their communities, and that drove Alex toward his chosen career path, deciding at a fairly young age that he wanted to serve his community differently.

Alex worked pretty hard in high school, academically, by being at the top of his class, but also joining the baseball team. To Alex, keeping himself in top shape mentally and physically was important, for himself, but it easily begged into his people pleasing.   Along the way, Alex fell in love.  the daughter of his coach, a cheerleader, and to Alex Walsh, the love of his life. His days were filled with school and baseball, and nights were filled with climbing out of his bedroom window to ride around Austin with his girl. Everything was perfect, his life was perfect. Except the nagging feeling that nothing he ever did was good enough ate at him constantly.

After graduating high school at the top of his class, Alex found himself at UT Austin, pre-med. He still considers those four years some of the best four years of his life.  He was intellectual, witty, and charismatic, traits he took on from watching the people in his life, and the never ending feeling of needing people to like him.  He enjoyed college, and learning, of course, was important, but his social life thrived. You could often find him at either a party or a football game in his limited free time. He was essentially a golden boy.  Somewhere in that mix Alex proposed, and his girlfriend said yes, and all was well, until it wasn’t. Their needs went uncommunicated on both ends. and she leaves for Los Angeles and Alex goes to New York, and they don’t talk, they don’t see each other, it’s over.

After undergrad, Alex got into medical school at Columbia, and he managed to immerse himself in the fast-paced New York City while also maintaining his Southern demeanor and drawl.  He felt that staying true to himself was most important through all of it, because that’s where his love of helping people originally came from. He goes through it with a determination that leaves him exhausted, throwing himself into school work and his job and his social life just to forget about the girl who broke his heart. Eventually, she doesn’t consume his every waking thought. 

After earning his degree, Alex realized that New York wasn’t for him, and just in time, too, because his residency placed him in Palmview Grove, Florida. a far cry from New York City. He had originally put in his application there because his sister Daphne, his built-in best friend, lived there, and he knew being close to her while establishing his career was the right move. He needed security. . It was a slower, quieter pace compared to New York, but he found that he liked that, being able to take up hiking, camping, and fishing.   He loves fast cars and parties, but when work is so hectic, he does enjoy things a little slower on the day-to-day.

PRESENT;

Palmview Grove, Florida.

Alex Walsh is innovative and charismatic and has a killer reputation in his field. He doesn’t take too many things seriously, but when it comes to his career, it’s a priority. After an interview in the New Yorker on their best Doctors list, Alex has become one of the top surgeons at Seaglass Hospital and is in the running to be chief of the neurosurgery department, though he’s struggling with the idea of becoming something he’s not sure he wants.  Despite all of this, his accomplishments and success, nothing stops the heavy weight of trying to be the best son and him striving for his father's attention, and knowing he’ll never be enough in his fathers eyes. 

He currently has a house in Oceans Edge and in his free time, loves to camp, fish, and hike, but is also on a community baseball team and boards a horse he owns just outside of the city, one of his favorite childhood activities. He loves going on adventures and being outdoors, preferring to run in the mornings if the weather permits. 

Although Alex is known to be magnetic, he’s a little bit afraid of commitment these days, but he’s pretty sure there’s something a little more to his commitment phobia. Not feeling good enough to be loved, combined with epic heartbreak, stunts your emotional growth, after all.   

Recently, just about two months ago, a sixteen-year-old girl walked into the hospital, asking for one Archer Alexander Walsh, and before he could realize he recognized the eyes in front of him, from long ago, he was being told she was his daughter.  Poppy stood in front of him, looking like the perfect mix of himself and her mother.   A child he had never known even existed

Alex is now finding the balance between working nearly 90 hours a week and becoming a father to a teenager who gives him more headaches than not, while reconciling the fact that his ex not only showed up in town but hid such a big thing from him for sixteen years.

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