don't worry about it.

| ind. wade from saving pvt. ryan | T/4 medic Wade, Charlie company, 2nd Ranger Battalion.

[alldocsgotoheaven]

like for starter

[ for new or old followers ! i am determined to be active ]

[ edit: also applies to @bayoutfoxed ]

[alldocsgotoheaven]

luckyleckie:

“Really? I’m pretty sure I’m everyone’s type. Don’t knock it until you try it.” The hand ruffling his hair made him grunt, but he didn’t protest, body still aching too much to even provide him with the strength to remove it. Instead, fingers tightened around the mug of coffee, a low groan leaving his lips as he moved to straighten his back. It had been much too long since anyone had even attempted to loosen the knots in his muscles, and a part of him almost doubted they could even be loosened. 

“Thanks.” Shooting the other man a look over his shoulder, inhaling sharply as a finger was pressed to an especially tense muscle. “Easy there, Doc. Don’t dislocate my shoulder while you’re at it. I need that.”

Wade grinned absently despite himself, ignoring the distant pang in his stomach at what he tried to unwaveringly assume was still just a joke. "I'm pretty sure no one here still has a type. Not a lot of competition."

The heat under his hands would have been enough to count as feverish, if they were any place less oppressively hot, and he had to shrug off a faint urge to check Leckie's temperature. "Look forward," he ordered, but his fingers gentled somewhat. "And I'm not gonna break anything. You're safe." A pause.

"Well. Relatively."

[alldocsgotoheaven]

WHICH SHAKESPEARE ARCHETYPE ARE YOU?

you got: The Fool

You are the fool, and let me tell you, a Shakespearean fool is the best kind of fool to be. You may technically be classed as a jester, a clown, or a porter, but whatever the case, you will spend most of the play threading an impressive needle between “guy who’s serving up some comic relief” and “guy who’s constantly dropping truth bombs.” Basically, you are the only person who sees what’s really going on. Unfortunately, the main characters will almost certainly ignore everything you’re saying, which is, you know, a bummer.

[ this is funny cause right before this i was like “if he was anyone i remember he would maybe be mercutio.” a plague on both your houses etc ] 

TAGGED BY: @hctchered​ (& @luckyleckie​) TAGGING: i pick everyone but specifically anyone who’s playing an OC. i’m too tired to @ all y’all

[p-ercolating]

CONSIDER THIS: she is dying. you are too, only slower and less tragic, you think. you will go in a place you are confident they will not find you in. you will rot like a soft apple there, like an alcoholic’s liver, like a compulsive liar’s tongue, like an animal’s carcass in a forest green. the difference is, the dying is doing a slow crawl through your veins. it is making a home in your cells. it is barreling through hers like a battering ram. CONSIDER THIS: why are you smiling? why are you happy? what are you doing in the crook of your elbow there, with the morphine drip meant for her? what kind of person can hate their own mother? CONSIDER THIS: this one: it’s you, with the purple under your skin, guilt blossoming in your throat and a vicious anger rattling loose inside your skull, throttling your vision blind. you want to crack your head open and rip out everything that cares, screams fault IT’S MINE IT’S MY FAULT I AM A BURDEN I LACK EMPATHY I LACK TRUST I LACK GRATEFULLNESS I LACK SELFLESSNESS I LACK A WILL TO SURVIVE I AM LESS THAN A WHOLE PERSON I WILL DIE WITH FAR LESS GRACE AND I AM SORRY I AM SORRY I AM SORRY I AM SORRY I AM SORRY I- your mother, she is dying. do not be melodramatic. of course she is. of course she is. CONSIDER THIS: God is a woman and she sits at the foot of the bed in the dying light and dyes everything bright, reads poetry aloud for you. she tells you that you have been ferocious with reason.  she tells you: you are brave. she tells you: you are good. she tells you: you will be loved. CONSIDER THIS: your mother dies. she leaves nothing; there is little left to say. you flicker between whole hollow whole hollow whole hollow whole, become your own self, selfless, selfish, imperfect, maculate birth that you are. CONSIDER THIS, PLEASE: it is okay. it is okay. it is okay. you do not owe her anything for living.

OVERLEVERAGED // h.x.l. @slaughtervoid @anarchetypal (via p-ercolating)

[alldocsgotoheaven]

[ some words about Wade’s mom cause i can’t sleep ] 

It had happened like a story in the newspaper, like reading about some accident a few towns away -- a few doctors visits, where she had laughed about being on this side of the needle for once, then a few times Wade had checked to find her still asleep in the morning, then the time he had checked and checked and checked until his pulse was frantic and his father had taken him by the arm and closed the door.

Wade pushed the damp hair out of a sleeping soldier's face clumsily. He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched in a way that felt kind. "Sometimes it's bad," they said in his mind, though their lips didn't move. "When you remember to miss her."

Sluggish minutes passed and he watched the thin rise and fall of his patients chest bleakly, teeth gritted together as if stopping the thoughts from escaping would make them disappear. But you will have to let it hurt someday, passerotto.

“Say it,” he pretended to hear. “You can say it.”

“I’m never going to see her again,” Wade told no one, and began to cry.

[alldocsgotoheaven]

@awildthing

      “You gotta be careful round this part of town, people gonna be whistlin’ from their cars at ya. It’s for y’know, my kind of people.” At least this small strip of road, notorious red light district. You’re profession was assumed if you lingered in one place for more than a few minutes, no one loitered here without purpose. An uneven step separated the drunks from the hookers, and she didn’t assume he was either. “Why don’t you go on home, huh? The girls assume those walkin’ got light pockets, show back up in a car ‘n i’m sure you’ll have better luck.” 

He figured he looked suspicious enough already, with the oversized trenchcoat and the worn doctor's bag in his hand --both borrowed surreptitiously from his mother's closet, but he also figured she wouldn't have minded -- so he stepped as much into the street light as he could and cleared his throat.

"Nah, I'm -- I'm making a house call, ma'am," he answered, trying to sound less lost than he felt. "Or I mean, trying to. This place’s like a maze. I think they're expecting my mother but she's uh -- out of town."

[thoughts-memories]

[alldocsgotoheaven]

hctchered:

She had barely even noticed the blood until he mentioned it, eyes shifting downwards, gaze almost surprised as she found the wound. It was nothing that was looking particularly serious, but she knew it was going to need seeing to either way. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Her voice was tired, resigned, a hand raising to wipe the blood from her wrist, the touch causing her to wince. “And if ya don’t mind havin’ a look I’d ‘ppreciate it. Might not be able to see to it right myself.”  

He took her hand gently -- not as if it was porcelain, but the way his mother had taken his, stern when he tried to weasel out of the antiseptic. A small pain now for a big pain later, he mused, checking over the wound. But you will have to let it hurt someday, passerotto.

"Not quite a million-dollar," he announced, pressing gauze to the clean skin. "You gotta put up with France for another round, unfortunately." Claire looked exhausted for good reason, and he kept his voice quiet, even if it was teasing.

[alldocsgotoheaven]

reputatiions:

          Supplying a shrug,    little concerned attached,    he didn’t know nor did he particularly care.    It wasn’t giving him trouble.    What has him raising his brow was the sudden embarrassment.    But as was his nature,    he declined against releasing a comment.    Speirs’ own hand came over where Wade was touching,    absentmindedly rubbing his hand there.      ❝  Never said I was.  ❞      Without risking the look of an unnatural smile,    he kept his lips pressed into a thin line,    like normal.      ❝  That something else they’ve been throwing around ?  ❞

"Yeah," Wade answered, unable to stop himself from adding "but not as much as you throw yourself around," even if he did look faintly apologetic afterward.

"Into trouble, I mean." His voice had lowered, and the humor trickled out of it the longer he spoke. "And I know I can't stop that. But I'd like to have enough pieces to sew back together at the end." His lips twitched. "Promise I won't practice my cursive on you, though."

[alldocsgotoheaven]

extrasocks:

“Ain’t that fancy?” Skip laughed, a smile playing across his lips at the absent-minded grin. He’d never met someone so entranced by a scar before, it was a little unusual, even for a medic.

A slight fidget in his hand followed the second trace of fingertip against oddly sensitive skin, and Muck looked thoughtful at Wade’s assessment. “I guess.” He hadn’t really thought about how close a call that simple accident could have been. 

Wade blinked like he was coming up from underwater, letting go of Skip's hand with a strange sense of hesitation. "Well you gotta be lucky to still be here, right? Jumping out of airplanes seems like the worst Russian roulette I can think of."

His grin turned brittle. "Or maybe German roulette. You play that one with a semi-automatic."

[alldocsgotoheaven]

[ morning y’all i felt like doing a height chart for wade’s team ]

[alldocsgotoheaven]

@enduringcaptain: 

A breathy laugh escapes him as he clutches his side, from his sitting position. “It was worth it though.” He slowly removes his hand, looking down at the wound. “S’not that bad is it doc?”

Wade grabbed his wrist before he could move any more, fingers like a vice, albeit a trembling one. "Of course it's fucking -"

He bit the inside of his cheek hard, gritting his teeth and trying to calm down. Snapping at soldiers wasn't his job, and this guy looked like he was having a shitty enough day as is. "Of course it's not that bad," he lied, easing his grip on Jack's wrist as his voice smoothed out.

"You're gonna be fine. Just gotta stay awake while I check this out, right? Tell me where you're from."

[tristamateer]

I still remember you as a little girl who overwaters plants because she doesn’t know when to stop giving.

Trista Mateer (24 of 30)

[alldocsgotoheaven]

hxllbilly:

It was always Jap wine they brought back. Flags, swords, pistols, bayonets; they were rarer than you’d think. But bottles, printed with characters none of them could read, those came back by the hundreds. Easier to carry, maybe. Foul tasting but certainly better than the hooch they’d managed to brew themselves.

“Better hope m'luck does just that then.” Because Wade’s fingers were drumming out a comfortable rhythm, allowing Hillbilly’s eyes to wander a little more freely. Some things he could keep restrained, like how nice it would be to lean his head on the Corpsman’s shoulder or put an arm lazily around his waist. There were shackles no amount of drink could break. Eddie was content to simply let his gaze float sluggishly over Wade’s thighs, up across his underwear, and finally to the cards shifting in his fingers.

It left him slow on the pick-up, glancing down to remind himself of the tattoos the man was talking about. “Why, thanks, Sergeant.” He wasn’t sure which comment he referring too. Hillbilly smiled regardless, casting his laugh upwards at the tents ceiling. “Though I’d reckon y’d be the same, livin’ on rice for a coupl'a years.”

He laughed --more like a giggle right now, but he would never admit that -- and elbowed Hillbilly gently, jostling him a little. "Nah, this baby fat is forever. They're gonna eat me first when we run out of food here." (He wondered vaguely why he had said when and not if, then tried to stop wondering.)

Dealing was easy since it was just the two of them, but his fingers were getting clumsy from the wine and he fumbled enough to drop a couple of cards. The mistake didn't register until he noticed them, face-up on the table, one jack of hearts and one queen of diamonds, the ink worn but still red enough to gleam in the light.

And for some reason he didn't want to understand the color stuck in his head, like sand in gun barrels, like hot metal on skin -- he blinked hard but it stayed there, gleaming dull behind his eyelids. The cards in his hand trembled.

"Hey," Wade mumbled, not looking up. "You think maybe we should stop? It's kinda late, right?"

[sovietorphan-archive]

@alldocsgotoheaven​ liked x. for a lil starter!

    “ are you the good kind of soldier or the bad kind? ” his blond brow knitted together as the medic finished wrapping gauze around jack’s knee. he was a different case from the men laying in cots with one leg, or a bullet through their side. this one had managed to simply skin his knee pretty bad when he wandered into the american company. of course, he wasn’t going to deny help. even from the soldiers that were in opposition to his country. a bandaid was a bandaid, yes?

[alldocsgotoheaven]

Wade had kept him away from the more gruesome sights, but space was limited and casualties were plenty -- still, he tried to block as much of Jack's line of as he could, keeping his attention.

"The tired kind," he answered after too long a moment, trying to smile. "I'd like to think I'm the good kind. What kinda kid are you then, huh? Good or bad?" Jack was at least the good kind of patient, Wade mused, securing the bandages around his knee and ruffling his hair gently.

Maybe he had been around dying soldiers too long, or maybe dealing with a simple scrape was a relief, but his eyes softened considerably when he gave the kid a once-over for anything else that looked hurt. "You hungry? The food here sucks, but it's something."

[alldocsgotoheaven]

@wcrdcddy​:

    ‘ What do you WANT me to say ? ? ? ‘

There is something like ANGER coursing through the mans VOICE. Irritation and other feelings all mixing into one as the doc QUESTIONED him. His fingers squeeze together tightly, knuckles WHITENING as he restrains himself – He’d JUST finished one fight he didn’t NEED another one to get into.

          ‘ YES – I did get into a fight and NO. The other guy is BETTER off than me! ‘

Wade glanced from his face to the minute motion in his fingers, eyes narrowing. "If you're gonna deck me make it quick, sergeant, I'm a little busy."

Individual cuts and bruises weren't much, but they added up to a potential liability, and the one across the bridge of Don's nose looked particularly nasty. Wade reached a hand up to hold his face still, probably too firm and definitely beginning to test his luck. "Sit down. This looks broken."

[alldocsgotoheaven]

"Pomóż mi-- please." The polish soldier clearly needs medical attention, a laceration on their side crying for help more loudly than their hushed pleading. "I do not wish to use your time, but I am growing faint." [inbox call]

He was run ragged, but here that was about as good as you could hope for -- and regardless, calls for help overruled every lesser instinct he had.

"Hey, hey, I'm here," he was already at their side, rolling up his sleeves hurriedly and pressing a handful of gauze against the gash to buy some time. "Hold this here for me, yeah? It's gonna be okay."