the doc is in

damian carter. 40. surgeon.

[damiancartcr]

scthcartcr​:

“Not my problem if they don’t listen to what’s good for ‘em. Give them character,” Seth shrugs, his dark eyes lingering over to the dog in the truck. Although he’s not overly sentimental, something about imagining a dog by itself in a house when this shit went down sounded shitty but the fact that Damian had thought ahead and sent her to the neighbors, well, that was good. Although he guessed that his brother hadn’t wanted to send her to Seth which almost annoys him, even though he knew it shouldn’t. He didn’t need another thing to see through the storms. “It’s fine, just some limbs and shit hangin’ ‘round. I gotta get over there tonight after I get shit done here. Take down the shutters and shit.”

There’s a hint of nostalgia on Seth’s face, something that almost brings a smile to it, something rare and relatively unseen. It’s been there before and Damian’s certainly see it but more often than not, Seth defaults to a smirk that sometimes lingers into being a snicker, his face almost permanently flickering between that and stone cold. But the memory of his mother yelling at his father from the grass while Edward continues to work on the shingles and Lizzie telling him he’s going to break his neck—well, it reminds him of home. A feeling that he feels like he’s missing these days. It’s there in Olympus but it’s almost like it’s incomplete without the Carters. “Yeah, well, he didn’t break his neck, did he?” Seth shrugs, smirking at his brother. In this situation, Seth can imagine him being Ed and Damian being Lizzie, probably where they got their individual personalities from. “Yeah, well, Ma would tell you there ain’t no reason to go and do that because she’s right there,” Seth reminds him. While they weren’t super religious growing up, Lizzie believed in some sort of afterlife that her son never got into. 

“Why they comin’ up?” he asks Damian, wondering if there’s something he should know.

It’s not an easy question to answer. Why have his parents been on his mind lately? Damian could rattle off a bunch of excuses, but as simple as any of them would be, none of them quite captures or encompasses the truth of the matter. “I dunno,” his shrug is the best answer he can come up with, though he wonders how convincing it is. “Just been on my mind lately. Maybe Mom’s really just right there and trying to get me to remember that?” 

He hopes Seth doesn’t care enough to push beyond that. Because he doesn’t want to have to dig any deeper into these thoughts.

“Anyway,” he dismisses the uncomfortable, expectant silence that has lapsed between them, “if you need help with anything, gimme a call?”

[damiancartcr]

christopheriisms​:

“You shut your mouth now, buddy. I just turned another decade older like, yesterday. And I listen to everythin’, I keep an open mind. Havin’ a teenager at home certainly does that to ya…” Handing the MP3 player over to Damian, he shakes his head. “Like, I’d get it if she was listening to the top 40 radio hits, but Tiktok music…I just don’t get it. Whatever happened to dancing to Notorious BIG? Or….Cee Lo Green?”

“Cee Lo Green,” Damian snorts. Taking the player from his friend. “That’s the reference that pops in your head?”

He pops one ear bud into his ear, hitting play on the track. “I don’t know this one,” he says. The younger nurses have introduced him to TikTok. He’s held their phones and filmed while they danced in the on-call rooms, or played out goofy conversations at the intake station on a slow ER day. He doesn’t mention this though, because somehow admitting that the twenty year old nursing students have had to show him an iPhone app makes him feel even more old. 

There’s a shift in the beat of the music, and suddenly Damian recognizes it as a song one of his favorite nurses attempted to teach him dance moves to. “Okay, I know what this is. There’s a dance.”

[damiancartcr]

reinathane​:

“Gee, thanks, but I’m gonna fucking burn it. Christ, you really couldn’t have just let the flood sweep them away?” Regardless, Reina folds the picture neatly and tucks it under the bar, not quite sure what she actually wants to do with it yet. Besides, if Damian’s got plenty more, what’s the harm in keeping this one little reminder of her past? Although, the thought of any of these pictures being on Facebook is enough to make Reina openly shudder. “Thank God Facebook didn’t exist back then.” If it did, Reina would have scrubbed the internet of any evidence of her looking like that a long time ago. She barely recognized the girl in the photo, she’s scrawny and looks like the definition of trailer trash in her thrift store cut offs, and for a brief moment she wonders what the fuck Chris ever saw in her or why Damian ever stuck around as her friend. The three of them along with Damian’s then girlfriend, Kendra, had made some good memories back in the day, though, and she’s reminded of that when he brings it up. Her friends had been a high point in the hell pit that was Reina’s life back then, and thinking about the forgotten memories is enough to bring a smile to her features. “Do you remember when we used to go up there and get shitfaced and play human shuffleboard on the dock? I don’t understand how nobody ended up drowning. We were fucking idiots.”

There’s a hint of a smile on Reina’s lips. His absolutely hopeless crush on Reina hadn’t been a well kept secret when they were in high school. Chris had seen it long before Damian even realized how poorly he concealed it. And there’s part of him that still remembers the ache in his chest that he felt for that girl in the photo. 

“Burn that one if you want,” Damian says with a smirk, “there’s plenty more where it came from.” He was a deeply sentimental person, probably to a fault. He hadn’t quite verged into hoarder territory just yet, but Damian’s collection of old photographs was nearly endless. Boxes in the attic, a few on shelves in his garage. Photos hung up around his house. Something about the constant reminder of the life he’s lead keeps him grounded when things feel too hard to keep moving every day. “Besides, it’s a great picture. You look,” he pauses, trying to find the right word and settles on, “happy.” The simplicity of it, how kids can shove all the complications away and just let themselves feel joy for all the time it takes them to shotgun a beer.

Damian’s laugh is easy, nostalgic. “Four kids drunk in the middle of nowhere jumping in a lake? Yeah. It’s honestly a miracle we survived it.” He watches her, looking for a spark of that happiness he saw in the photo. “I miss it like hell though, you know? I don’t even know if Kendra’s dad still owns that land. He did when we were married.”

[damiancartcr]

delphine-dupont​:

Her smile faltered a bit as she hopped on to the examination bed, legs swinging as she rested the basket of muffins covered with a small tea towel. “I brought you muffins. Thought you and your co-doctor buds can share ‘em. We have to feed our medical professionals, you know?” She said with a tilt of her head. “And before you say anything, I bought these. I didn’t make ‘em so… there’s nothing to worry about.” She continued with a shake of her head. She was then quiet for another moment of two before she cleared her throat. 

“I’ve been… Feeling weird recently.” She said finally. “I can’t seem to sleep at night. My appetite hasn’t been all that great either. I was wondering if you had anything that can help with the insomnia that’s a bit stronger than cough syrup.” She said with a small albeit strained laugh. 

“Am I supposed to think you’re trying to poison me?” Damian laughed, eyeing the basket Delphine set down beside her. “Or are your baking skills just that bad?” He watched the smile fade, leaving her quiet as the doctor waited for an explanation. 

The vague symptoms she gave could mean anything from minor stress to fibromyalgia. Not quite enough to get a conclusive diagnosis on. “Have you tried any over the counter sleep meds? You can get pure melatonin supplements at any pharmacy, you know? That would probably work better than cough syrup.” He cringed as the words came out of his mouth, as if they held the same tangy, chemical flavor. “Probably taste better too.” 

Damian rolled his stool closer to Del before standing on his own just in front of her. He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and held the end for her to see. “May I?” he asked, waiting for an affirmative before he touched her.

[damiancartcr]

kayaiisms​:

Kaya is no stranger to getting yelled at by the doctors. It’s in the culture, and it’s something she’s more than used to, given how much time she’s spent in her profession. But somehow it always feels the same way, and the eyes of the other nurses on her doesn’t help. Damian’s scolding feels uncomfortable and it makes the woman’s hands ball into fists inside her pockets, unable to make eye contact with the doctor. She isn’t going to cry, but the red that’s crawling on her features is hot and embarrassing, and she wishes she had thicker skin. 

Pressing the nail of her thumb into her index finger, she shakes her head. It takes her a few seconds to get her words in order, and then she only nods. “Yes, Doctor.” She’s quick to catch the sliding clipboard, as if she’s trying to do everything in her power to not disappoint. More than the yelling, it’s that sense of disappointment, like she’s managed to make her favourite person mad. But all of that is put to the side, as the nurse’s eyes scan the file, taking it in and trying to place it in her mind. She looks up again, and nods.

“Okay then. I…alright. I’ll uhh…keep that in mind.” She’s quick to take out the little roll of masking tape and pen, scribbling short hand for everything Damian was telling her, before ripping it and sticking it on to her trouser. “I’ll page you once her medicines for the day are done, Doctor Carter.” She paused, as she tucked her stationary back into her pockets. “…I’m sorry about the questions. I…I should back off, I know. But I…it won’t happen again.” Kaya means it; Damian may not be the friendliest person in the hospital, but he knows what he’s doing, and Kaya wants to learn from the best. And it helps that she thinks he’s a cool guy outside of the hospital too. 

It’s been a long night, and a long day before that, and a long night before that. Damian can feel it wearing on him, exhaustion morphing into a feature of his personality rather than just a slight sag of his shoulders. He watches Kaya close up in front of him, all the warmth and shine she normally exudes vacuumed back into her where she can protect it from him. “Clever trick,” she says, watching her tape his instructions to her pants. “If I had a dollar for every tiny notebook I lost in med school... I’d probably have just bought a lot more tiny notebooks.” He tries to offer her warmth in his crooked smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his tired eyes.

Before Kaya can completely excuse herself and escape him, he reaches for her. He doesn’t touch her, just holds up his hand, hoping she’ll give him a moment before she walks away. “Hey,” he says, “don’t stop asking questions, okay? Don’t back off.” His voice is low, comforting. He talks to her the way he’d talk to one of the residents. “If you think there’s information you need to know, always ask. You’re not outta line. I was. Like I said, it’s been a long shift.”

[damiancartcr]

izzyrojas​:

@damiancartcr​

The man had helped her some time ago and if Izzy was going to be honest, she kept her distance. Not just because she was embarrassed, embarrassed of a time in which she was perpetually abused by her boyfriend but also because she’s embarrassed of how she had handled it. It was an embarrassment misplaced, she knew. Izzy hadn’t been the one in control of the situation and she hadn’t been the one that should’ve been embarrassed. However, if she learned one thing in the last three years of being without Ethan, it’s that she should’ve listened to Damian, Ryder, Sutton, and infinitely more people than just them that told her that she needed to leave because she did need to leave. She was one bad night away from something happening to her that was irreversible and as silly as it sounded now, the cut on her face from the glass that had sliced a cut into it, well, it reminded her of those times. Those times in which she would beg Damian to make sure nothing scarred. The times that she asked for assistance to cover up her bruising so that she could still go to work because her attendance was shotty at best. 

Now, sitting in a confined office, similar to the one that Izzy had sat in waiting for Damian during those dark years, she almost feels panicky. Like he’s going to demand to take her somewhere safe. Like she’s going to go to her apartment and Ethan was magically going to be there. God, ever since the nurse had said ‘Dr. Carter will be in to see you,’ she’s been twisting her fingers and fidgeting in her seat. When he does arrive, she tries to make it seem more nonchalant. “Hey, sorry, I just wanted to see if you could check this out—see if there’s anything you or I can do so that it doesn’t scar anymore than it already is trying to,” Izzy explains, although, she’s pretty sure that it’s already going to scar.  

Isobella Rojas is the last name he expected to pop out of a nurse’s mouth. How many years has it been since the last time he patched her up and sent her back to that piece of shit she called a boyfriend? The memories still surface from time to time, guilt rolling his insides until he felt sick as though she were still with him. As though any moment he’d find her obituary in his morning paper. 

He closes the office door softly behind him, half expecting the woman sitting across from his desk to turn around and reveal a swollen face, bloody nose and black eyes. He can feel his body bracing for the impact of that look he’s seen more times than he can count. 

“Long time no see,” he says, keeping his voice light and friendly. When he moves cross from her, hoisting himself up to sit on his desk, rather than in the chair behind his desk--always a true professional--he is relieved to see only a minor scratch on her face. Despite her casual posture, he can feel Izzy’s nerves radiating off of her like heat on summer asphalt. “What happened here?” Somehow, it’s feels good to have to ask her, rather than already knowing.

[damiancartcr]

scthcartcr​:

The hug between the brothers isn’t exactly what people might think it’d be which is probably awkward. It takes a certain event that makes the hug happen and it’s usually Damian’s doing, if Seth was honest but it’s not unwelcomed and it’s not awkward. This is his brother and while they weren’t best friends, Seth knew that Damian stood up to a lot of animosity because of his brother, Hell, maybe even a little prejudice because of his last name. But all of that could seemingly melt away when Seth and Damian only really had each other in the Carter family, Finn far too tied up with his own family, sort of how Seth was tied into the Club and Damian in the hospital. Still, Seth didn’t want to have to see his brothers hurt because whoever did such a thing would certainly see the Hell that they deserved. “You too,” Seth says, wrapping a single arm around his brother. He wasn’t much for two handed hugs so even Damian wasn’t immune to that. 

“Sounds like it,” he nods, stepping back. It was always funny to Seth how Damian had become a doctor, fixing up patients and sending them home healthy, meanwhile, his brother was well known for being violent, angry and vulgar. Hell, Seth is pretty sure that Damian has treated men that have seen the worst in Seth, only to fix them and send them on their way. One Carter sending them to the hospital, one Carter brother fixing them. “Yeah, well, if you see one of mine that doesn’t know how to use a hammer you can keep ‘em there. Sounds like they’ve got more problems than just bein’ in pain,” Seth smirks, not actually serious— or was he? Seth may not be the handiest of people but he certainly knew how to use a hammer well-enough. “You check your place yet? Just wonderin’ if you got one or not,” Seth figured that they probably would’ve heard by now if Damian’s home was gone but Seth still cared about his brother’s home. 

“If something’s up, give me a call, I can get someone over there since you gotta sleep for that shift,” Seth tells him, eyebrow raised. “Plus Dad’s ghost will be fixin’ that shit no problem.”

“I’ll make sure to put that in their charts,” Damian laughs, “DNR: Do not Reattached as per orders of President Seth Carter. That’ll go over well with the nursing staff.” Not a single cut had rolled through the doors on Damian’s watch, something he is endlessly grateful for. His brother keeping everyone on lock down at the club house had certainly lessened the faux-badass fuckary that would have landed some of his idiots in his ER.

Damian nods towards the door, the sound of his dog still parking at everyone who gets too close to his truck carries through the air. “Picked her up from the neighbors house before I came here. My place is still standing. Smashed window’s all I saw from the front. So, not bad all things considered. You been by your house yet?”

The thought of their father puttering around that empty house knocking on boards to make sure everything was still in tact brings a smile to his face. Seth’s sentimentality catches him off guard, like it had the night before. “Remember the time climbed up on the roof to fix the shingles himself? And ma stood in the front yard yelling at him to get his ass down the whole time. He wasn’t about to pay anyone to do something he could do himself. I’ve been thinking about 'em a lot lately.” Damian wonders if his brother has as well.

[damiancartcr]

maddcxhart​:

Maddox practically flinches at the image of a man who’s had hot oil and turkey blow up in his face. He wasn’t the type to become a doctor and while yes, he’s seen some shit, to be brief, he’d learned that he wasn’t cut out for the life of a doctor long before that, considering Algebra had stumped him literally into oblivion. The man was tactically smart, good with his hands and would probably be considered at least somewhat emotionally smart, he’s able to read people even when he really shouldn’t. However, Math and Science had always stumped him and seeing people in real pain, well, he didn’t have the stomach for it. Watching his mother waste away to nothing, kind of had that effect on most people. “Yeah, I think I’ll stick to my toolbelt and jeans but I appreciate it, Damian,” Maddox nods, knowing that while he couldn’t fix someone’s face, he certainly could fix the house that same man burned down in the process when the oil bubbled into the flames and sparked them higher. 

“I’ll make sure that I write something in my notes when I get to my truck about it. It shouldn’t take too much time. Hell, maybe I can get someone from the Club to head over and do it for some extra cash. ‘M surprised your brother didn’t already do that,” Maddox shrugs, nothing particularly accusing about his tone. However, he knew that Seth was practically on a rampage with trying to fix things and trying to ensure everyone was alright in the Club. Seemingly, maybe checking on his brother should’ve been a part of that. “Oh yeah, no, I don’t think anyone got hurt real bad. Just some minor things, you know? It’s just the damage to everything else that hurts.”

“Tool belt and jeans is a perfectly good look on you,” Damian nodded. He knew what skill it took to do what Maddox did and he respected it. Damian knew his lane and he stuck to it religiously. Professionally, anyway. Personally? Well, that was a slightly different matter. 

“Long as it’s someone who knows their ass from a tool box, send whoever you gotta send. No rush.” His laughter was a bark, the overly friendly great dane that was his personality took over. “I’ve seen some of yall’s prospects, so maybe skip over them.” 

Damian hoisted his leg over the bench, straddling it as he eased himself underneath the weight. He braced his arms over his head, fingers wrapped around the bar. “I talked to Seth. Let him off the hook. I think your Pres has enough on his plate these days, you know?”

[christopheriisms]

tagging | @damiancartcr​

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough. I don’t get this, at all.” Yanking the headphones off his head, Chris put down Lala’s MP3 player down beside him. He thought it’d be a good idea to listen to it while he was chilling with Damian, mostly so that he’s not reminded of his slipping youth and instead, he can peacefully swear about how bad this stuff is. “The name is creative, but…Moo? I don’t get her, Doja Cat. I just don’t.” 

[damiancartcr]

“You might as well just get a cane and start saying ‘these kids today and their weird music,’” Damian laughed. “Times, they are a’changin’, Old Man.” They were both old by now, pushing their way through middle age one year at a time. But Chris was a year older and that was at least a small comfort to Damian.

“Lemme hear it,” he said, putting his hand out for the headphones, curious what had elicited such a reaction.

[damiancartcr]

delphine-dupont​:

“I’m here to see Doctor Carter.” That was what she told the nurse on duty who looked absolutely miserable behind the desk. “Do you have an appointment?” they asked, so tired and frazzled that Del kind of felt bad because no… no she didn’t. Del hadn’t make an appointment which… seemed to pose a problem. So there she was, basket in hand amidst a room full of people waiting for their turn. She rested the covered basket on her lap, pondering over whether or not waiting were a good idea before immediately looking up at the sound of her name. A small smile quirked the corners of her lips as she hurriedly stood at attention. “Present!” She called, squeezing past people in order to finally get to him. “Lead the way, doc.” She huffed, smile now much more obvious as she had managed to get her way even without trying. 

She followed him down the halls and once they were out of earshot, nudged him with her elbow. “I thought I’d have to wait much longer than that. I’m pretty sure the guy with the pocketful of cough drops came in before I did.” She said, smile turning mildly sly. “You giving me special treatment?” 

“I don’t actually work in the clinic so I can prioritize however I want. Or, I’m going to and someone can chew me out for it later.” When Damian swaps out the chart he’d taken for the one with Del’s name on it, he tries his best to ignore the way the resident rolls his eyes. Damian wasn’t on clinic duty in the first place so one less patient was a good thing, no matter which patient he pulled, right? “This way,” he said, gesturing the young woman down the hallway and into one of the vacant clinic rooms.

“Have a seat,” he offers, gesturing towards the paper covered bed. “Glad to see you survived the storm,” he laughs, tossing her chart on the counter and pulling the rolling stool underneath him. “You sick or did you fall into a WebMD hole?”

[damiancartcr]

reinathane​:

The moment Reina hears someone on the premises, she’s ready to berate them within an inch of their life and let them know that Calliope’s fucking closed without being kind about it, but her guard dog tendencies immediately fade when she actually sees who decided to stop by. Damian’s an old friend, someone Reina had actually been looking forward to seeing upon her return to Olympus, so of course she doesn’t turn him away once she realizes he’s the one that’s invading her restaurant. Instead she smirks and pours them both a glass of wine, thankfully still in tact behind the bar despite the damage that’s been done. “The important stuff still stands, thank God,” she teases, coming to sit in the stool next to him as she waves away his apology. “Shit happens.” Though this shit seems to be some kind of personal vendetta against her given all the problems it’s causing, but Reina would rather not get into that. She watches carefully as he pulls something from his pocket, not exactly sure what he’s about to show her, and what she sees is probably the last thing she expected.

It’s a photo of herself back in high school when she’d had nothing but lived her life like she had the world. Reina doesn’t have many — if any — pictures of herself when she was younger, having not had a family to take them, nor did she keep in touch with anyone that may have photos of her lying around. If anyone were to have any she’d think it’d be Chris, but the two of them hung around Damian just as much back then so Reina really shouldn’t be as surprised as she is by his find. She snatches the picture out of Damian’s hand, mesmerized by how she looks so carefree and so innocent, and so very much not the same person that she is now. For a minute thinks about ripping the photo up, but she honestly can’t stop staring at it and it’s such a rare find that all she does is look up at him, eyes wide in alarm. “How the hell did you find this? I can’t believe you still have it.”

It’s hard to tell if Reina is amused or horrified by this image of her former self. Damian hoped for amusement but knowing Reina it would probably be more of the latter. “You can keep that one, if you’d like,” he said, taking a sip of his wine, grinning around the rim of his glass. “I found a whole box of shit that got dumped in my garage after we cleaned our parent’s place out a couple years ago.” The old Carter residence was mostly vacant, these days. They kept cookware and dishes, holiday decorations, and their parent’s old furniture, but not much else. Damian had cleared his stuff out years ago. 

“Shit, I barely remember life before Facebook,” he laughed. “We went through so many disposable cameras up at Kendra’s dad’s place. got a couple of those back home too. I don’t even know where to get those developed now.”

[damiancartcr]

finnoconnor​:

The last person he thought he’d see at his house was Damian Carter. Sure he was his best friend’s brother, hell he’d eaten meals with him and Seth at their mother’s home before she passed. However, it’s not like he would say they were friends or even close acquaintances. They acknowledged each other’s existence and lived in their own separate worlds. He didn’t even realize he’d added him to the message, but he chalked it up to seeing the last name Carter and clicking it. Not that he minded, hell he’d take any help he could get and he knew Damian was a good for it. The man was the reason he was still standing upright, after all.

“Yeah sucks is kind of an understatement, man.” He huffed a bitter laugh. If he kept himself busy with something he didn’t have time to think about it. Just kept moving forward and onto the next step. Finn had even managed to keep himself from looking around too much, just moved on to more stuff. He’d tossed anything that looked damaged beyond repair without paying close attention to what it was, there wasn’t time to get emotional about material items and memories. Finn refused to fall apart over a shitty apartment.

He pointed to the boxes by the door and the pile of garbage in the other room. “That’s the stuff that still needs to be shoved in a vehicle or truck and brought to the storage unit. Then I still have the bedroom and kitchen to sort through, oh and I suppose the bathroom.” He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Thanks for coming out though, didn’t expect you. Just toss anything that’s damaged and throw the rest in a bag or a box. I’ll sort through it later.”

"Shit, sorry,” Damian cringed, because this did, definitely, more than suck. He couldn’t imagine having to come home to nothing but wreckage. Everything he cared about, his house and his parents had been left untouched by comparison. “Sucked” was the understatement of the century. 

Damian tested the weight of the first box. Not too bad. He could get it by himself. “I’d honestly forgotten that I gave you my number. Glad you added me to the list though.” He hoists the box up with both hands, careful to anchor his feet in position before straightening completely. “I’ve got some time before I gotta be back at the hospital and I drank too much coffee last night to get any sleep.”

Moving towards what was left of the doorway, Damian shifted the box so the weight evened out. “I’ll put this stuff in the truck then come help with the kitchen, yeah? I ain’t touching you bedroom or your bathroom, sorry, man.” He flashed a smile, trying to add some levity to the situation, if there was any to be found.

[damiancartcr]

kayaiisms‌:

Kaya doesn’t mean to stare, not really. It’s just that when she wants an answer, she’s like a hound on the hunt. She’ll prod and push till she gets it, and that’s what makes perhaps the most annoying student in the world. Even though she’s tired as well, the hunt for little nuggets like that keeps her moving, keeps her going. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to do her job right. 

She’s nodding along, trying to remember everything she had learned in Pharmacology as Damian talked. “Have you checked her liver function in the past? Does she have a history of alcohol abuse. I don’t want to assume the worst, of course…” These were questions she was asking the doctor, and herself. But while she tossed it around in her own head, her eyes were still trained on him. “I wouldn’t know, I only started here…two weeks ago, precisely. This is my training period, and that’s why I asked.” She shrugged. “Have you considered aspirin? She is going to experience some physical pains and aches once she comes to. And plus the alcoholism…” 

Patience is something Damian has always struggled with. He felt, as a child, he’d used all his patience up. Burnt it out on his brother, on his family, on his own expectations for other people. It’s a part of his brain that has to be manually activated, constantly calibrated, and fueled by whatever energy he could afford. Today, Damian didn’t have a lot of energy to afford.

“Are you asking because you need to know to do your job?” He asks, rubbing his temples with his index finger and thumb. “Or are you asking because you think I don’t know how to do mine?” As soon as he said it he knew he was out of line. His brain booted up like an ancient computer, struggling to keep up with the commands Damian is desperately trying to send it. Patience, patience, patience. 

He looks at Kaya. She was a nurse that he’d grown to like in her short time in the ER. Always on her toes, always trying to be better. She didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his exhausted frustration. “Sorry. Long night,” Damian mutters, flipping the chart back open. “Like I said, she’s a frequent flier. They’re not always gonna tell you their history so always make sure to check the patient files for a more accurate history. That way you don’t have to assume the worst. You can just verify it.” Damian slides the chart over so Kaya can see his notes. “We’re starting low dose Aspirin. She’s non-narcotics only so morphine is out. We’re going to gave to get creative with managing her pain, but I’ll be honest, she’s pretty famous for making a run for it. No insurance. I usually ah... well, her billing paperwork tends to get misplaced.”

[damiancartcr]

scthcartcr‌:

Seth had been working in the morning to get the boards off the windows and the doors, to get people organized and pointed in the right direction to effectively help, and to get people fed. Although they’d made it through the storm and the Clubhouse has for the most part, been left unscathed by the anger of the storm, something that was a little touch and go during the night when Seth got very little sleep, hearing the pelting rain and wailing wind. He thought at some point they would all end up getting swept away and while Seth was hoping for the best, he was fully prepared for the worst. The worst being losing half the Club and the Club’s family in one fell swoop. Although the morning had come and they were all pretty well off, in general, Seth is nervous to see the outside at first but when all seems well, he continues like he’d never been nervous at all. The cars were mostly fine and the area had some limbs but otherwise, seemed eerily quiet besides the low murmur of a town awakening from the storm. 

Later on, when Seth sees Damian’s truck coming up the path, crunching down on twigs and leaves that found themselves without a home, he stops and waits for his brother to enter the building. Silence only broken by Poppy outside and the bustle of people around them. Seth waves at his brother before returning his hands to his hips. “Workin’ on it. Not everyone stayed here and cell service has been shit,” Seth tells his brother, his eyes looking around the Clubhouse. They had done quite well and now, they just had to figure out who and what hadn’t. “Hospital was a good time, I take it?” Seth asks, knowing better than to think that the hospital had a quiet night without too many injuries. Life was never that kind. “You been home yet? I gotta check Ma and Dad’s still. I boarded it up earlier but who the fuck knows?”

A lot of people, seeing them interact, tend to assume some kind of animosity. Which is fair. Damian and Seth aren’t the most affectionate siblings. The oldest Carter keeps his distance from the younger’s volatile energy. But, after the storm they weathered, Damian greets his brother with an embrace. He wraps his arms around the man’s shoulders and pulls him into his chest. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the hours he’d spent thinking about their parents waiting for the storm to die down, maybe it’s the weeks he’s spent nervously waiting for Seth to slip too far after losing the woman he was in love with. Damian can’t be sure, but he hugs him anyway. “Glad you made it through,” he mumbles when he lets go and takes an unsteady step away from the other man.

“Yeah, saw a tower getting worked on near the hospital,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Might have the signal down. That with everyone trying to get calls out, not surprised you’re having a hard time. I’ll let you know if anyone turns up for me.” Damian shook his head, all the exhaustion of the night before flooding his face. “Hospital’s a real peaceful place to be in a storm, thanks for asking. I’m supposed to be catching some sleep before I head back up there tonight. We’ll get hit with the second wave of people getting dragged out from under houses and other idiots nailing their fingers to boards because no one ever taught ‘em out to use a hammer.” 

He can still hear Poppy barking from the car and Damian rolls his eyes. She acts like she’s never been alone a day in her life. “You got your hands full. I’ll run by the house and check things out on my way home.”

[damiancartcr]

maddcxhart‌:

Maddox nods, feeling just about the same. He really wishes that this didn’t happen but the hazard of living so close to the Gulf, while beautiful and probably his favorite thing in the world, it also means storms come right on through the area on the regular. Between hurricanes and tornadoes and damn, what was next? Snow? God, he hoped not. As a Southern boy, born and raised, Maddox isn’t a fan of the cold, his blood running warm all the time but preferring the heat to the cold anyways. His only treks to the snow being with his wife to see her extended family and they weren’t exactly his favorite. And imagining this town driving in that? Well, no thanks to that. 

“I get that,” Maddox agrees, having felt that before the storm even hit Olympus. “Feel free, we haven’t had a guy lose a finger in at least a week,” he jokes, thinking to himself ‘knock on wood’, even to the joke. “We’ve been real busy trying to figure out what we can save and what we can try and salvage, so it’s kinda like I’m a fellow surgeon right now, huh?” Maddox smiles, knowing that it’s not quite the same but it felt it when he put it like that. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I can definitely get you in for a consultation. I just come to your place and see what needs done and then we can try insurance, if you have it. Sometimes they cover stuff and other times they are stingy but I can definitely see what we can help with,” he answers. “I’m glad to hear it wasn’t too bad for you. And seems like Seth’s fine, just tryin’ to help the members and shit.” Maddox lifts a few reps over his shoulders, hitting his delts while he speaks.

“I like those odds,” Damian laughed. “Because I am exhausted from having to rescue digits from amateur handyman jobs. It’s worse than first time cooks on Thanksgiving. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a guy’s first attempt at a deep fried turkey literally blow up in his face. Glad to have a fellow surgeon out there in the field,” he agreed, “We’ll get you a white coat and a badge and everything.” 

For someone who made himself familiar with a gym, Damian didn’t seem to have the capacity to lift weights and carry on a conversation at the same time. Call it a cross between a short attention span and a little left over self-consciousness that he’d never quite gotten rid of. “No rush to get to my shit. I boarded up the bathroom window and the rest can wait. Whenever shit calms down for you. I know you’ve got your hands full.”

Damian ran his hands back through his hair, stretching his leg out in front of him on the bench. “If ya’ll need anything, though, you got my number. You know, you or anyone in the club. Haven’t seen any members in the ER since the storm, which, don’t get me wrong, I prefer.” Damian wouldn’t say it to Maddox, but he was mostly concerned about his brother. “But if anything comes up, you know?”

[damiancartcr]

STARTER: @reinathane WHERE: Calliope WHEN: May 2020

The restaurant looks almost as rough inside as it did outside. Add that to the list of reasons Damian counts his blessings with only minor damage and a flooded garage. “Storm didn’t take all the booze with it, did it?” He says, stepping over some wayward construction material as he makes his way back to the bar. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Damian pulls himself onto a stool next to Reina Thane, the woman that one of his oldest friends had grown into. Damian would be lying if he pretended that he didn’t still harbor at least a small fragment of a crush on her. Though, who could blame him, right? “Sorry to hear about all this,” he smiles apologetically. “I was going through and trying to figure out what shit to salvage in my garage and thought I’d bring you something that might cheer you up.”

In the photo Damian pulls from his pocket is a gorgeous, dark-haired teenage girl. She’s barefoot on a lake dock, wearing a bikini top and cut off shorts while she shot guns a Bud Light. “Look familiar?” he asks, his grin stretching across his entire face.

[kayaiisms]

tagging | @damiancartcr​

Simply put, Kaya had missed working in A&E. There were reasons why she wasn’t working there anymore, but she missed it all the same. Even after a year of working at Neurology, the thrill of the emergency room was like no other. So she put in her request with her HON, and even sweet-talking the HON at the A&E, to expedite the process and make things smoother. But the biggest obstacle of all, the one thing the nurse knew she shouldn’t be dreading, but still did, was the retraining. 

She was “shadowing” one of the nurses, following behind Doctor Carter as they worked. It was only after a bit, when Kaya was lurking by the nurses’ station while they were filling out paperwork. “So…why exactly did you decide to change up the patient’s medications? I thought she was responding well enough to paracetamol, right?” Her voice rose a little higher, a challenge being issued right then.

[damiancartcr]

There are eyes on him, he can tell. Damian leans against the counter of the nurses station, his eyes scanning the chart for all the boxes he’s supposed to mark. The storm has taken its toll on everyone in the ER and Damian can barely focus his eyes on the too-small words right in front of him. When Kaya finally speaks up, Damian feels a little guilty for the annoyance laced in with the sigh he exhales. Really, he’s just tired.

“Frequent flier,” he says, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. Their patient was Ms. McEvers, a wino who slept underneath the overpass a few miles away. She’d been knocked around by the storm trying to keep her things from flying off. “She won’t tell you she’s an alcoholic but, you know. She’s in the ER a lot.” Damian closed the clip board and passed it to the nurse at the computer. “Paracetamol can cause liver damage if it’s taken for an extended period of time. She needs all the liver she’s got left so I’d rather not risk it.”