I wanted to say that I hope you're doing okay and I miss your writing! Sending you all the hugs and happiness!
Thank you, nonnie. I'm not really writing a whole lot right now but I feel bad about not having anything for you, so take this random ass part I wrote for a thing like four months ago. Hope it makes you happy.
The nurse was telling him something else, but Carter didn’t hear him. He was already rushing down the stairs, nearly toppling over some agent as he pushed his way through. In record time, he found himself in the emergency room, the chaotic sounds of overwhelmed medical professionals calling him into the area like sirens. As he burst into the room, he caught sight of Gordon Miller on one table, followed by the count and lift of Jenny Jones onto another.
“Is she conscious?” he barked, rapidly donning gloves as he turned towards the nurses. “Is she conscious?!”
“No!” One of the nurses—Calle—barked back, then pointed at the other unconscious patient. “You look at Miller first!”
Despite his feelings, Carter wasn’t about to argue with the woman, so he pivoted towards the room Miller was in, demanding updates from the doctors in the room. “Any response?”
“Only to fluid resuscitation,” Dr. Lee said, her voice frazzled as she shone a light in the man’s eyes. “Pressure’s up to 90 palp, but he’s got some intense bleeding in his midsection.”
“Roll him.” Carter helped Lee roll the man over. The blood on the front of his shirt had been easy to see, but the blood oozing through the back is what worried him. “Dammit, Gordon,” Carter growled, even though the man couldn’t hear him. This was exactly why he told him to stay away from physical activities, though to be fair, he didn’t entirely know why the man was back here to begin with. “Where’s the foley?”
“I haven’t had the chance to—”
“Get it now!” Carter barked at the other doctor in the room, who quickly jumped into action. “I need—”
“Carter!” Calle’s booming voice interrupted him. Carter looked over at the doorway, where the nurse was holding the door open. “We need you here now. We have to trach Jenny!”
The blood drained from his body for a split second before his reflexes kicked in. Stepping back, he turned towards Lee as he walked back out of the room. “Check his bowel sounds and get that foley in. Talk to me!”
The latter was directed at the chaos ensuing inside the other room. While Gordon’s room wasn’t exactly rainbows and kittens, Jenny’s was far worse. Blood was caked on numerous scrubs, the machines were beeping in dangerous tones, and the flurry of activity only further proved just how bad the situation was. He forced himself to think of her as any other person—any other stranger—to keep his mind focused at the task at hand.
“Stab wound to the belly, upper quadrant.” A younger doctor—Simons, perhaps—gave him the rundown. “Severe trauma to the neck, multiple fractures to the right arm and leg. Pulse ox is 83—”
“Open a Melker kit.” Carter tuned him out, his entire focus turning towards the small point in his patient’s neck. For some reason, all he could think about was the time he caught her fiddling with her necklace at lunch, the small clasp sitting directly where he was looking now. It had been such an innocent act, yet it—no. He quickly shook the memory from his mind. He couldn’t think of her as Jennifer Jones. He needed her to be just another person on his table. With laser focus, he made his incision, working quickly to get the tube installed. “Get ready to bag her,” he said, trying his best to sound calm despite his true feelings. “And hook up the Thora-Seal.”
He barely had time to hear Simons confirm the breath sounds before he heard his name being screamed once more. Looking up, he saw a panicked Lee through the open door, who held up the Foley bag, filled with a bright red liquid. “Dammit,” Carter swore again. Gordon most likely reopened the laceration. If he had damaged the kidney in the process…
“BP’s down to 81!” Calle broke through his spiral.
“Redline him up to the OR now. Tell me there’s another surgeon coming!” As if the heavens above heard him, the curly mop of Dr. Kerry Fawkes appeared in the window. She looked like she had just bolted out of an opera house, but he didn’t care. She was his savior. Before the woman could even speak, Carter ordered, “Take him!”
Kerry shot him a look that he immediately recognized as knowing that he should be the one handling Gordon’s injury. After all, he had been the man’s original surgeon. But he couldn’t leave Jenny. Not that Kerry wasn’t just as fine a surgeon as he was, but something in his gut told him that if he didn’t see this through, he’d hate himself for the rest of his life. Thankfully, Kerry didn’t argue with him, instead turning immediately to Dr. Lee and got the rundown on her new patient. He briefly watched as they wheeled around the corner before returning his focus back to his patient.
“Belly’s distended,” Simons said, stepping around the table. “Intra-abdominal bleed.”
“Get an ultrasound in here,” Carter said, looking towards another doctor. “How much blood loss?”
“400 cc in the Thora-Seal,” Dr. Wilcox responded. “But we don’t know how much prior. Could be up to 2000.”
“Pressure’s down to 60!” Another nurse blurted out.
“Open a thoracotomy tray,” Carter ordered.
“Wait—”
“Too late!” Calle’s voice cut the nurse off. “Lost her pulse!”
“Starting compressions!” Simons hurled into action.
“We need to crack her,” Carter said, barely registering the words before he spoke them. “Prep the chest.”
“Ultrasound is ready.”
“Later. Ten blade.”
“Stats down to 80.”
“Sternal saw.”
Joon was getting rather sick of emergency rooms. Or, if she was being more honest about it, she was getting sick of having to look for her son in emergency rooms. Trying to track him down in the hospital before SHIELD swooped in had been difficult enough. That time though, all she had to do was look for the curly hair of Jenny to find the answers she needed. It wouldn’t be possible to do that now. She tried her best to push the image of Jenny’s cold, unconscious body from her mind. She had to hold it together. Her son needed her. She stopped at the nurse’s station and asked about Gordon’s whereabouts, but the frazzled woman only said that she’d have to wait a moment. That wasn’t what Joon wanted to hear at all. She was about to argue when she heard the familiar booming voice of one of the other nurses. It belonged to one of the nurses who checked up on Gordon during his recovery. Despite her better judgment, she took a few steps down the hall to see if she could find the woman. Immediately, she regretted the action.
She found the nurse alright. Even better, she found Gordon’s surgeon. Unfortunately, the man was not working on her son. Although the face was blocked from her view, Joon immediately recognized the curly hair and worn clothes of Jenny Jones. Seeing her like that left a numbing feeling deep in her stomach. That numb feeling quickly turned to a mild nausea as she heard the sound of a saw against bone, the cracking noise burrowing itself deep into her eardrums. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes away.
That was Ted’s little girl. The same little girl that used to run up to her in the park with fistfuls of flowers she had picked just for her. The same girl that took her little boy’s hand and dragged him across the playground, never once excluding him from any of her little adventures. The girl who was kind to her, friendly to Mason, and always looked at Gordon with an admiration she’d never seen anyone else have. The same girl she had been teasing mere days before about her potential rendezvous with Gordon while they had been left alone. Jenny was practically her own family. Watching her get cut apart chilled her in a way she hadn’t expected. Although the woman in the room in front of her was far different than the child she’d always have at their apartment, for some reason, all Joon could picture was that little girl, her pigtails swishing about as she chased some imaginary dream about the room. And the thought that she might not see that girl rushing around anymore froze her in place.
“Rib spreader,” Carter cooly spoke, holding the saw out for a nurse to take. He couldn’t look at anyone. All of it hurt too much. “Suction.”
“V-Fib,” Calle said, her voice somehow seeming far away.
“Starting internal compressions,” Simons appeared to say, though Carter barely heard him. His eyes were too busy scanning the internal workings of his patient.
“We’ve got a major hemorrhage,” he said, his eyes not moving from the spot. “Get me more suction and a needle, now.” There was a flurry of more problems and concerns, but he simply responded back with a “One thing at a time” before stitching up the area of concern.
“Paddles charged to fifteen,” Dr. Wilcox’s calm voice brought Carter back into the moment.
“Cut!” He ordered, holding up the remaining thread from his stitches. Calle quickly snipped it off and he pulled back. “Clear!”
The paddles disappeared into Jenny’s chest as they shocked her heart, Carter nearly feeling the sensation in his own chest.
“Still in V-Fib!”
“Another amp of epi.”
“Clear!”
Again, they shocked her. Carter’s eyes drifted up for the smallest of seconds and he found himself locking eyes with a redhead outside the room. He immediately recognized her as Gordon’s mother. The woman had been rather hard to forget between the sarcasm and the forcefulness of her demands for information on her son’s recovery. It honestly made him admire the woman. But her steely gaze was oddly softened as they stared at one another, the realization washing over them that they both had some sort of vested interest in the wellbeing of the woman on the table. He didn’t entirely know how he felt about that.
“Sinus tach!” Simons’ voice snapped him back to reality.
“Get a portable monitor, we’re taking her up to the OR now!” The remaining doctors and nurses quickly got to work, unplugging and replugging wires and cables as they worked to rush her out of the room. The redhead seemed to understand that something was happening and stepped out of the way, just in time as they swung the doors open. “Call the OR, tell them we’ve got an open chest coming up!”
“We’re still waiting on type specific,” Calle barked.
“Have the blood bank send it upstairs!” Carter yanked them all into the elevator, barely keeping Jenny’s bed from squishing himself against the wall. He quickly looked up as Wilcox and Simons shuffled into the elevator with him, his eyes catching the redhead’s once again. “And get her an update on Miller!”
Those were the last words he ordered out before the door shut.
Do you write outside of your Muse's canon (AUs)? What are some of your favorite AU genres/settings?
Mun Preferences
-looks at Chawkling AUs-
-looks at Ethan AU-
-looks at Jenny AUs-
...no never.
Honestly though my favorite AUs to write are the ones that will never happen? Chen's get her sent to horny jail, Ethan's require too much work, and Jenny's has her currently on an operating table with her chest cracked open. Like...they ain't ever happening lol.
I guess I like giving them pain? Or angst? Or horny jail for Chen? I don't think any of those are settings or genres but whatever I just write them when the inspiration strikes!
send me a tumblr url anon or not and I'll talk about them (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Ugh what a hoe. Sleeps with like everyone around and is just so mean that it makes it completely unbearable to even look at her.
...For those who don't get the joke, I AM SHIELDSFILEMISTRESS.
Real talk though, Chen is one of my favorite characters to write. She's probably gone through the most change than any of my other muses, and she's constantly surprising me every time I do literally anything with her. She's so much fun to write, both online and offline, and I'm always intrigued to see what next step she'll take.
The unfortunate side is that about 90% of the time I have to step away from RP is because of Chen. The amount of hate she gets for simply existing is fucking astronomical at times, and while I try not to let it get me down, I am human. At the end of the day, this is supposed to be fun, and sometimes that means stepping back and re-finding the fun without tumblr. But for all the bad, there's an infinite amount of good that I've had with her, so I'll keep on chugging along with her, because that good is what really matters in the end.
send me a tumblr url anon or not and I'll talk about them (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Folks.
I cannot tell you how much I love Gordon. He's so fucking funny. I wish I was half as funny as that dork. I love that he's a kid of some frigging badasses and is totally normal. I live for that shit. And his dynamic with Ted is one of my favorite things to both write and read.
No joke, when I am having a downer of a day, I go and reread old Gordon things. I have a bookmark tab that I just scroll through like I'm flipping through pages of a book. Gordon is like a warm hug on a rainy day.
If anything happens to him, I will find a way to walk my ass into this imaginary world and pull him out myself. I love that kid.
send me a tumblr url anon or not and I'll talk about them (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
THAT'S MY WIFE
Really though, I adore agentmorris. She's so fucking rad. It's easy for me to say that Ted wouldn't be the character he is today without her, but it's even easier to say I wouldn't be the writer I am today too. She helped me grow so much and I will eternally be grateful for that.
Also underappreciated thing that I might over appreciate, but I LOVE that while The Good Ship Lollipop is rainbows and hugs, they also went through their speed bumps. They had miscommunications and made mistakes, but still worked through it and came back stronger because of it. I love it when relationships aren't absolutely perfect. 10/10.
Anyways, agentmorris is the fucking best and I will never saying it. She deserves all the hugs and cookies and grape sodas and I JUST LOVE AGENTMORRIS OKAY.
He was a little surprised by the statement. Sterling had always been this closed book to him, somehow appearing perfect in nearly every way despite Ted not really knowing that much about him. The open honesty was rather refreshing and his smile somehow managed to grow even warmer. "Well hey, it might not be fantastic, but you're still trucking along anyways. That uh...time--" he cleared his throat, clearly recalling his own experience. "--I think was hard on a lot of people. No shame in putting one foot in front of the other and taking it day by day."
Of course, just because Sterling was being honest didn't mean he would be too.
"How am I?" Ted asked, slightly bewildered that someone was asking. How was he doing? Well, he had a SMART meeting in a couple hours that he knew would be a rough one. His doctor wanted to change his prescription of fluoxetine. He wasn't really sleeping and he had this nagging urge to drown that drowsiness out so he could sleep again, and every night he had to remind himself why he couldn't do that anymore.
"I'm doing fine," he lied. "Between work and the house, I'm keeping busy and making cleaning miracles happen. Hey, you should swing by sometime. Em and I could whip you up some dinner and we can all catch up. Or reminiscence about the good ol' days."
"Yeah. Trucking." He forced a smirk but rubbed his mouth, not sure it was a lie in itself. "I'm getting help though. Took a while to... be able to talk about it, but I'm... trucking." With the confession the smile that followed seemed a bit more genuine than before.
A lie. Expected.
"That whole incident hit everyone hard. If you need to talk, I'm here. If you don't want to talk, well, I'm still here. I remember you don't drink, but you don't need to to sing karaoke." The smile got bigger, more playful, until Ted mentioned Emma. Their relationship had been... up and down since he'd started dating Chen. He took a deep breath and let hope into his eyes. "Do you think she'd be ok with that? I don't want to intrude."
"Hey man, there's no shame in getting help. Or taking a while with it. The little engine that could didn't make it over that mountain in one big push. It kept on chugging 'cause it thought it could. Recovering, or uh, talking about stuff isn't that much different."
He lit up at the mention of karaoke. Those old times had been some of his favorites. True, he would no longer be getting white girl wasted and making it everyone's problem, but it didn't matter to him. The company was what he always enjoyed most. "Oh, you can count me in. I've only got about 1400 more love songs I have to serenade Em with."
"Pfft." Ted waved his hand, dismissing his worries as if they were some fly buzzing around. "Mi casa es tu casa. You wouldn't be intruding at all. Besides--" While Ted's smile still stuck around, there was a hint of sadness behind it as he spoke. "--if there's one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that we need to cherish the friends we have while we still have them. They're the ones that'll pull you out of the dark when you need someone most. And frankly, I hate the idea of either one of you losing out on each other instead of just talking." He shrugged, tilting his head. "I mean, I wouldn't bring your girlfriend to be safe. I just finished up on the bay windows and if someone went through one, I'd be pretty upset."
"Oh, totally. When used correctly, robotics can absolutely be invaluable tools or assistants to handle specific tasks." He definitely wasn't saying that out loud just in case some AI overheard him and thought he was anti-robot. The last thing he needed was to be on the wrong side of a robot uprising. "Back when I was taking night classes, we actually had a discussion on how they could assist with dangerous situations. Even with SCUDS, they could help with offsite projects. A robot being able to identify weak structural points in damaged buildings could help save cleaning crews a lot of time and damage."
He laughed, feeling a little bit of that weight on his shoulders lift. "That's true. He would bring it out on his cute little tray though. And he'd probably do it a lot more gracefully than I could."
"That's the thing. I've always been pro automation, with caveats. We should be making things that can do work for us, but not to replace us. if we're taking jobs away, we shouldn't be taking money or security away," she's gone to so many rallies in her university years, and tried to pen so many opeds in the last few years, but couldn't get her words clear.
"Innovation is supposed to exist to make our lives easier. The rise in homelessness and food insecurity means we aren't doing what we're supposed to. We need Star Trek future, not Battlestar."
"Oh yeah, no, he should handle the burning hot pizza. But deliver it to us, and we destroy it ourselves like the organic flesh bags we are."
It felt nice, easy. She hadn't had an easy non work related conversation in a hot minute. It really did feel good to catch up with Ted. She missed good people.
"Exactly. The advances we make in technology should be used hand-in-hand rather than outright replacements. I don't think we should treat it any differently than I would a hammer. Sure, someone could make something where a hand isn't needed to guide them anymore, but it's a lot safer when you've got a working brain swinging it down."
He laughed, leaning back a bit. "Couldn't agree more. Although, are we talking more original Trek or Next Generation?"
The end of his question was interrupted by the sound of his phone going off. After patting down his pockets and offering a quiet apology, Ted yanked out his phone, his brows furrowing a bit as he swiped the screen. "Sorry about that," he said, shoving the phone back into his pocket. "Forgot to put it on vibrate."
"No worries there. Professional hugs totally allowed in my book.
Ted lit up, clearly excited about being able to ramble with a friend again. It had been far too long. "Right! Robotic cleaning machines cause way more damage that people expect. Plus they get stuck all the time! And it's not some other robot getting it out of there, it's some guy who you could have just paid to clean the place the first time around."
"And I appreciate it. I'd like to not be replaced by a robot. Unless it's one of those little Emiglio ones because there was something mildly charming about those and I think I'd cave if I had to pick between me or him."
"I think robots have their place. Helping deal with monotonous tasks, or repetitive ones that cause injury. Like I use mechanical help every day of my life, but they don't replace this-" she tapped her forehead, nodding, "They don't have the brain, the creativity, the ingenuity. I mean, I watched the sorcerer's apprentice. Magic brooms wreak havok!"
It had been so long to be able to let go a little bit and feel ... that spark again. Not in a weird way, but that liveliness at work outside the heart pumping experiments she did. She didn't have a lot of well known colleagues anymore.
"I'd never replace you with an Emiglio Teddy. A robot wouldn't share a pizza with me."
"Oh, totally. When used correctly, robotics can absolutely be invaluable tools or assistants to handle specific tasks." He definitely wasn't saying that out loud just in case some AI overheard him and thought he was anti-robot. The last thing he needed was to be on the wrong side of a robot uprising. "Back when I was taking night classes, we actually had a discussion on how they could assist with dangerous situations. Even with SCUDS, they could help with offsite projects. A robot being able to identify weak structural points in damaged buildings could help save cleaning crews a lot of time and damage."
He laughed, feeling a little bit of that weight on his shoulders lift. "That's true. He would bring it out on his cute little tray though. And he'd probably do it a lot more gracefully than I could."
"Oh no, am I losing the peppy attitude? Do I need to start telling dad jokes and singing love songs to bring it back up? Don't you worry though, when you're around, I'll make sure to double my happy vibe. We've got a nice balance here and tipping the scales one way or the other might throw off the axis of the planet."
"Doomed...or saved? All it takes is one happy attitude to change the world."
"I'll make sure the test my best ones out on you then. And I don't think you need to be an actual dad in order to pass on the dad joke joy. Dad joke is a state of mind. That being said, I will absolutely be using them all the time on my kids. Ones that pass the Joon test, that is."
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