#playing triage on replay again

[faceless-es]

Why is Shidou so goddamn hard to draw—

[dokkamj]

ALL MINE.

-before read! THIS IS 18+ STORY MDNI

again, english is not my native language sorry for grammar errors etc, enjoy.

(i found this pic on Pinterest, i don’t know who to give credits at, sorry)

-

One word, forbidden.

Simon was watching you while you two were in the woods.

You were damn beautiful, how could you be so divine without doing anything?

You were to be protected at all costs, you were his without even knowing it, you don't know exactly how long this had been going on, with your superior, with your lieutenant.

But you couldn't help yourself. of him and his stolen glances, of the sweet words he whispered to you when others were turned away, when your hands caressed under the table in long meetings.

The palm of his hand on your cheek as he stroked your lips with his thumb and pulled you against him to kiss you and play with your hair.

He was damn obsessed whit you.

“how was ya’ day?” he asks you in a murmur, you wrapped your arms around his hips “good, you know i saved some life’s” you said and chuckle, he smiles at you caressing your neck.

“Oh, now don’t flatter your self” he said rolling his eyes, you were so tiny in his arms, 5’5 and he was 6’6, the difference in weight and height where noticeable, another thing that turn him on.

you two met for the first time in the field on the front lines. Simon was wounded in the shoulder for a bullet, his team dragged him to the arranged triage, and you had been the first one to notice him and take care of him back then.

the sexy medic notice him.

and even when he finds out that you where his submitted and he was your boss he couldn’t help himself breaking the rules and do what he can to put a smile on your lips.

“how about you?” you asks caressing his chin covered by his skull balaclava “hmm, a lot of paperwork’s” he muttered as he breath in your scent, his sweet little thing.

you two start to walk in the woods where Simon had his house, nothing too special but it was comfortable enough for the both of you. He make a copy of his keys for you, so when you had your days off or when you need some intimacy you can come here even without him.

It was true that you wasn’t that comfortable, still going around on your tiptoes make sure to don’t break anything.

And you take care of the house too, cleaning, change sheets, make sure that he always have his favorite whiskey on stock. You two sat on the porch on the little couch.

He pull you closer on top of him, so you where now sat on his lap, on his thick tights.

It was late afternoon, the weather was warm and there was that gentle breeze “look at ya’ so pretty” he murmur on your neck before place a kiss under your ear, you chuckle gently pressing your back against his chest.

you go grab a glass of whisky for him and an iced tea for yourself then go back to sat on him. “thank ya’ pretty girl” he said before kiss your cheek in a caring way rubbing your things with a hand and with the other sip his whisky.

“ya’know i could get used to this, me and ya’” he said as he look at you, damn you were something else “then keep being a good lieutenant for me and i won’t go anywhere” you tease him a bit with a small smirk on your face.

“oh is that so, ya’ little fucking thing” he murmur as he squeeze your tights roughly, you light up a cigarette, looking at him with your beautiful eyes, fuck he need to contain himself.

you take a drag from it and then blow the smoke on his face covered by his balaclava, he look at you “smoking is bad, a doc surely know it” he said as he take a deep breath “yeah, but i’m not in my doctor vest.” your replayed.

the sight of you with your civil clothes smoking a cigarette on his lap was making him a little too excited. Your hair wrapped in a messy bun as you wear your blue jeans and a black top, his eyes travel down to your breast, he took another sip of his whisky trying to contain himself to rip your clothes and fuck you there.

“what? a little frustrated?” you asks as you recognize his behavior, caressing his abs trough the soft material of the t-shirt that he was wearing. “careful love, you might regret it.” he said looking at you at your beauty before grab the cigarette from your lips and kiss you.

you chuckle as you pull him closer caressing his big tights with your little hands, he let out a sigh, he knows that you wanted to play, it’s been too long since you two didn’t have a nice moment alone where he can see you all naked for himself.

his jeans get tight as he look’s at your perfect face “sweet little thing wants to play yeah?” he murmur as he put down the whisky glass and grab your tights making you the sign to wrap your legs around his hips, you did it and he stand up brining you in the house, he did really wanted to get in the bedroom, but he wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer.

ripping the little black top of you and undo you bra throw it somewhere in the kitchen, exposing your perfect and round breast “fuck- look at ya’ so perfect makes me wanna shove my cock in that little cunt of yours” he whisper in your ears biting your earlobe, you moaned softly, you missed him, missed his rough hands exploring every inch of your body.

you where ovulating and it was since that morning that you want him inside of you in some way or another, but both of your superiors where around so you contained yourself, but now? no.

you pull him closer kiss his neck and nibbling on it gently as you hear him moan, he was already rock hard just seeing you smoking a damn cigarette that now was in his hands, he take a drag of it and blew the smoke away, sigh as he feels your hand undoing his belt.

“ya’ can’t even fucking wait a second yeah? need me so bad?” he asks, you bit your bottom lip feeling your underwear soaking in your humors. It wasn’t the first time that he makes you all soaked with just some little talk, but today you were more frustrate that ever, you need him, and you are not going to stop until his fat cock will stretching your walls.

“si, need you” you muttered licking his neck as you finally start to unbutton his jeans, caressing his shaft trough his boxer, he gasped, you soft hand around him, what a sight, he really can’t get enough of you.

“y/n, fuck—“ he moaned breathless as your thumb teased his head, you could see the pre-cum, he was turn on too.

you lick your own lips in anticipation as you get off from the kitchen counter and drop yourself on your knees, you want him to moan to see him weak just for you.

you licked his shaft from base to head, his hand gripped tightly the kitchen counter, your wet and warm tongue was doing an amazing job even if you didn’t even put it in your mouth yet.

“want this?” he ask as he tap his head on your tongue, “then suck you little slut.” he said as he shove his fat cock down your throat, you gagged a bit but didn’t try to back off, taking a deep breath as your gaze look at his eyes sparkling.

you suck on his head as your right hand move his shaft, he slap his hands on the kitchen counter trying hard to don’t cum in your mouth already.

“so pretty with ma’fat cock inside your mouth” he muttered as he looks down at you, gripping your hair tight in his fits pushing way down on his dick.

“Ohh- Fuck!” he moaned rolling his eyes back into his skull, you where proud of yourself when you bring him at points where the cold Ghost was just a far away memory.

you cupped his balls in your hands and squeeze it “y/n…. fuck, fuck, fuck!” he sigh as you swallow around him with tears in your eyes, it was just too much seeing you on your knees whit your mouth full of him.

he thrust in your throat then pull away from your mouth “com’here little slut, gagging me so good makes me wanna break ya’ perfect fucking body.” he murmur in your ears.

your breath still irregular but you look at him with a smirk as your lips where still tasting of a mix of your saliva and his hard dick.

“want you inside of me.” you said as he play with the hem of your blue jeans that in a seconds where throw on the floor. He makes you sit on kitchen counter whit your legs spread wide, his hand on your stomach before stroking your wet pussy trough your blue panties.

“fuck, so wet already?” he asks, sometimes he need to work you up a bit to make sure you can take him without making you hurt, the sight of your cunt cupped in his palm makes him salivate like a damn animal.

he lift aside the fabric of your underwear and shove one of his thick finger in you, you moaned all flustered, nipples hard, he start to fuck you with two fingers and you couldn’t even say anything as your moans fills the room.

his kisses travel down to your belly than on your puffy and needy cunt biting it and sucking it hard, you screamed as your hands sneak under his balaclava and take it off, he smirks “wanna see your face when you eat me.” you moaned.

squeezing his head between your tights as he devours you, his big tongue on your clit sucking and nibbling it as he fucks you whit his fingers “my girl taste so good—“ he moaned as your legs shake, sign that you where close, so he speed up his space sucking your clit even harder.

“Simon, oh god oh please—” you screamed as you came on his mouth, he licks his lips with a satisfied grin, you breath heavily feeling your body relax on the kitchen counter, but still this wasn’t enough.

he stand up quickly “taste so good almost addictive.” he murmur on your neck as he start to stroke the head of his fat cock on your needy cunt.

“can i?” he murmur just push his head inside of you making your legs shake, you couldn’t even talk, drunk of him “please sweetheart?” he asks again, he always make sure to ask, to have your green light to fuck you.

his head inside of you as he brings a hand on your lower body, pressing his thumb on your puffy clit, you swear that you almost see the stars as you moaned “talk to me y/n, please” he said as his thumb start to make circles movements.

you push yourself on his shaft, he moaned as he looks down where your body’s unite. “Si, please.” you finally said out loud, pushing yourself on him once again making him smirk.

“such a little slut ya’ are” he moaned as his first thrust was deeper than usual, your walls squeezing his fat cock as he start to fuck you slowly, but you need him all inside of you, so once again you push yourself on him.

“look at ya’ fucking yourself with my cock.” he said whit a grin on his lips before slam himself in you hardly making you scream his name “this what ya’ want huh?” he said as his hand pose on your neck squeezing it as the other one was painfully teasing your clit.

his thrust where deeper and steady “good girl, fuck—“ he moaned feeling you getting even tighter once again sign that you were probably near at your second orgasm.

“yeah babe, come on this fat cock yeah?” he said as he slaps your tights and squeeze your ass with his big rough hands, you moaned loudly once again came on him like a needy slut, you where so damn wet that your juice was dripping on his balls and on his pubic bone.

“that’s a good girl, fucking good ya’ are for me” he murmur as his thrust became more irregular and needy, resting his face on your breast, breathing your scent as he his hands keep you from move away.

another rough thrust and he pulls out of you cum on your pussy as he strokes his shaft, moaning deeply on your collar bone “Fuck y/n making me cum hard on your little cunt makes me wanna fuck you once more” he blurted out whit an irregular breath, you grab his chin making him looks at you and smirk.

“then? what are you waiting for?” you ask. “you are going to be the death of me.” he said as he slam his lips against yours.

-

[falsegoodnight]

40 :D

40. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

(soulmate au for the soulmate au queen)

content warnings: war setting, mentions of blood and injury, nothing described too graphically. 

+

“Are you ready?” Zayn murmured as Lieutenant Davison stepped in between the tent flaps.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Louis said, trying to calm the racing of his heart. 

Together, they followed the chief nurse into the tent. Louis was immediately aware of three things. The first was the smell. The sharp sterile scent of medicine mixed with the heavy odor of strained pheromones, sweat, dirt, and blood. Sour and sticky, Louis felt it sink into his nose. The second was that there were so many people, soldiers lying on cots in every direction. Louis stared in horror, unable to count all the bodies. Everywhere he looked, he saw blood.

The final thing was not an observation so much as a realization. There must’ve been over sixty alphas crowded in the tent, some crying out in pain and others wearing blank, distant looks. Most if not all bore visible injuries. Sixty soldiers, and three of them.

“Oh my,” Lieutenant Morrison spoke after a lengthy pause. She turned to them with a grave look. “Get to work, I’ll go and request further assistance. Triage, then the worst first. You know what to do.” 

Zayn and he looked at each other, grim resolve settling in each of their faces. “Yes, lieutenant,” they reply. She nodded at them before slipping out of the tent.

“Nurse,” one soldier cried out, blowing their temporary cover. A single voice followed by dozens of others, desperation stark and bitter in the air. Louis felt it in his bones. “Nurse, nurse!” 

They rushed forward. 

It was as if time seemed to pass in a blur. Louis felt as if he were drifting through a dream, limbs and body working mechanically but relentlessly. He assessed, treated, and transferred, becoming numb to the hollow pleas and curses bombarding him on all sides. Everywhere he looked, he saw more atrocities — mutilated limbs and angry burns. One alpha tried to grab him, fingers clasping at the white of his nurse uniform. Please, he was saying, eyes bloodshot and skin sickly pale, hair matted to his skull. Louis had wrenched himself back, nausea clawing up his throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

The smell of blood seemed to embed itself in his skin, breathed in with every breath and woven into his lungs. He wondered if it would slip off once he finally left the confines of the tent and the horrors it encased, or if the smell would stick to him for much longer, haunting him in his sleep. It was impossible to know how long he had been at this already, time fading away as Louis stumbled from soldier to soldier. Davison returned eventually with two fellow nurses in tow, but Louis still felt like he was drowning in patients. 

He didn’t realize his hands had started shaking until he nearly dropped a bandage. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, words playing on repeat in his head. These poor soldiers. 

“It’s okay,” someone replied, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

But it’s not. He opened them immediately after. There was no time to hesitate — every second that passed was a life that could have been saved. He appraised the patient and was surprised to meet his eyes, a startling intensity and awareness hidden in their green depths. It was as if an electrical current had struck him. Most of the soldiers had been too consumed in their own pain, eyes either clamped shut or widened from shock, not focused on him at all. Brushing it off, Louis’ eyes found the open wound exposed on the alpha’s abdomen, uniform rucked up. A bullet wound, but not deep. There were some small burns spreading up his forearm too, but nothing severe. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Louis said, relieved to be able to give some positive news. He gave the alpha a pill for the pain and set to work cleaning the wound, trying to quell the quivering in his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

The soldier was quiet for a moment, before clearing his throat. “You’re going to be fine too,” he said gently. 

It struck Louis deep to his core. He met the alpha’s eyes again, seeing the kindness layered there. His face was streaked with dirt and heavy bags lined his under-eyes, but he was undeniably handsome. Louis felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, offering the soldier a shaky and maybe a little shy smile before returning to his work. 

“Thank you,” he said when Louis finished, and Louis had enough time to murmur a “You’re welcome,” before his attention was being called elsewhere. 

By the time Louis finally left the tent, it was supper time. 

+

Louis felt exhausted as he stuttered through dinner, still wearing his blood-stained uniform. There seemed to have been an unspoken silence amongst the dining hall, some still replaying the scenes they witnessed in the tent and others only imagining. He returned to his quarters and immediately stripped from his uniform, feeling as if he were peeling off all the distress and panic he experienced as well. 

It wasn’t until Zayn entered the room and gasped that he managed to pry his lips apart. “Knock next time, will you?” he muttered, slipping his nightshirt over his head. They’d seen each other naked on accident more than once previously, and he didn’t understand what the drama was for. 

But Zayn looked pale when he looked up to meet his face. “Lou,” he said slowly. 

“What?” Louis said, a creeping sense of foreboding settling on his skin.

“Your stomach,” Zayn tripped out. “Louis, you got your soulmark.” 

Frozen in place, Louis was unable to move, words repeating in his head over and over. Soulmark, soulmark, soulmark. It took everything in him to look down, fingers curling around the hem of the cotton and dragging it up. 

The sight that greeted him felt like a blow to the heart. A cluster of honeysuckles were inked across his skin, dark and undeniable.

“It had to have been one of the soldiers, right?” Zayn asked, voice dropped to a whisper. “Shit, Louis.”

Louis thought back to the tent full of alphas, faces already blurred in his mind — a sea of suffering. Nausea rose in him. “Fuck.”

“Okay, do you remember talking to any soldier?” Zayn asked desperately. “I think the soulmark only appears if you interact directly. That narrows it down.” 

“I talked to multiple –” He trailed off, kind green eyes flashing in his vision. He remembered what felt like a shock that had gone through him. “I know who it is,” he breathed.

“You do?” Zayn said, surprised. “That’s great.”

“No,” Louis said, earlier nausea returning. “No, it’s not great. I didn’t know – I didn’t learn his name. It’s not allowed. He didn’t learn mine either. And now he’s gone, Zayn. What – what am I supposed to do?” The company had left after dinner and Louis had watched from his seat as the mass of soldiers disappeared into the night. He watched as his soulmate walked away. 

Zayn looked stricken. “You guys are soulmates,” he said firmly. “You’ll find each other again regardless. That’s how it works.”

“It is?” Louis said flatly. “This is war. A lot of things work differently now.” It occurred to him then that his soulmate was a soldier. He was probably marching to the front lines as they spoke. “He could die tomorrow and I wouldn’t even know,” he whispered, throat dry. “I never stood a chance, did I?” The war had stolen so much from him already, he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Neither of them said another word. 

+

[cosplaydude637]

Chapter five: newbies and Fangs.

Mekyle, Angelique,Xander And Ruthie were all new Shadowhunters and now new members of the New York institute. So when they were sent in there first patrol they were ecstatic. Covered in head to two gear the young nephalem took to the streets of New York. But after a hour they were very underwhelmed on the lack of action they thought they see. This is what brought them to the hunters moon.

The hunters moon was a downworld bar. It’s was a slow Not for the moon also the place was very empty only a few werewolves and a fay were there. “Man we should not be here,” Angelique says looking over the room.

“Chill Ange we are Shadowhunters we go we’re we won’t.” Mekyle says puffing out his chest.

“Dude that is so wrong just because we are Nephilim now doesn't mean we are God.” Xander replays. Mekyle just waves his hand and walks up to the bar. The man behind the bar was a seven foot tall bald black man with dark green eyes by the name Frankansens.

“Kid you lost?” Frankansnes asks in a low voice.

“Identify yourself Downworlder!” Mekyle demands. “I am a Shadowhunters and you must answer me” he adds. The whole bar busts out laughing all but the Shadowhunters.

“Kid your joking right. Run on home to your mommy.” Frankansens says laughing. Mekyle face goes red and in a flash his wrist was up and the claws were coming out of his gauntlet. The werewolves jump to there feet and their eyes start to glow as does Frankansens’s. Xander walks up and pulls Mekyle back throwing him on the floor.

“That’s enough! Ange get him out of here!” Xander snaps. Angelique nods and her and Ruthie drag Mekyle out. “I am sorry sir he should have known better. We are on our first patrol and he is just itching for a fight. That being said what he did was out of line and I will be talking to our Institute heads about what he has done.” Xander says holding out his hand to Frankansens.

“Tactfully said young one. I am Frankansens but you can call me Frank.” Frank shakes Xander’s hand. Xander nods and heads for the door.

“Hey kid if your looking for something to do you may want to look into the Vamps down on the pier.” One of the Fay says. Xander smiles and nods as he walks out the door.

As soon as Xander has come out the door and it has clicked shut. He finds a pair of claws in this face. “How dare you!” Mekyle shouts.

Xander quickly ducks down and sweep kicks Mekyle’s feet and in one motion draws one of his chakram’s and had it pointed at Mekyle’s throat with his left leg holds his one gauntleted hand down.

“I would do it again, you were out of line in there and you bet I will be talking to Jace and Clary about your lack of care! Now if you’re done acting like a mundane brat I got us a lead!” Xander barked.

Ruthie whistled “Wow man.”

“What’s it going to be?” Xander asks never taking his eyes off Mekyle. Mekyle slowly nods. Xander steps back and lets Angelique help Mekyle up.

“When did you get so good? You were not like this at the academy?” Mekyle asks

“Or maybe your just to cocky” Ruthie says with a giggle.

“What’s this lead Xand?” Angelique inquers.

“There may be some Vamp trouble down at the pier.” Xander replays and starts heading that way clipping his chakram back to his side. The others exchanged looks and run after him.

Back in the bar the group of wolves were leaping. “Eravon you now you sent them after some of Lilly’s clan right?” One wolf says. The Fay looks over at them and smiles evilly.

“Now they did not ask what clan the Vampires were from.” Eravon says.

Once the young Shadowhunters got to the pear there was two Vampires following some mundane fishermen.One Female and One Male Vampire. Xander hand signals for Mekyle and Angelique to Circle around. Ruthie draw two Adamas scalpels from her wrist bands. Xander nods at her and she movies in like lighting. Sagacity cutting the ackleys tendent of the Female Vamp.Ruthie quickly moves to the Vamps throat and holds one of her scaplees to it. “I would not move if i were you hunny.” Ruthie says with a smirk. At the same time Mekyle and Angelique attack the Male Vamp.

However the male Vampire did not go down so easy. He spun kicked Angelique and the stumic she dubbles over in pain and the Vamp world and attack Mekyle with a right hook. Mekyle flicked out his left wrist and his claw blades extinded right as the Vamps puch came at Mekyle. The claws sheared off the Vampire hand at the wrist. Mekyle was covred in blood. Reganing her composer Angelique sweeps the Vamps legs out from under him with her staff. The Male Vampire hits the Ground hard knocking the back of it's head the Vamp starts to bleed. Angelique place one end of her staff on it's throut. “Ok hold.” Xander says walking out of the shadows.

“Why were you after the fisherman?” Xander asks looking down at the Male Vampire.

The Vampire just stipes blood at him. Xander bends down on his knees and looks at the Vamp and with a clear face and a calm voice says. “Here the deal my friend. Mekyle here would like nothing more then to kill you and your lady friend over there. Now me I just want to get the answers I need and head you over to the clave. So the question is what do you want?” The Vampire looks form Xander to Mekyle and back to Xander.

“My Name is Drake and she is Helena.” Drake says.

“Oh man he wants to play nice.” Mekyle says with a sigh flicking his wrist and how clow blades reseed back in to his gauntlet.

“Now I will ask again why were you after the fishermen?” Xander says kindly

“Don’t tell them they have no proof we were doing something wrong.” Helena says with an evil hiss. Ruthie adds a little prasher to her scalpel and a bit of blood drops from Helena’s neck. Xander holds up his hand and Ruthie back off a little. Just then there is a blood curdling female scream and a young asian woman came running at them her Fangs bared. Xander jumped to his feet and draw his Chakrams but before the women can get to them there is a flash of white light and the Woman stops cold a Seraph blade at her throat. She looks over to see Jace standing there with a smile. “Now Lilly I think we need an answer form you clan members be for you kill my new recruits.” He says.

“Lilly…. As in Lilly Chan?” Angelique asks.

“Yes Child that is me and you are un lofly attacking two on my clan.” Lilly replays.

“No mam we are not there were stocking two Fishermen.” Xander Replayed.

“Darke Tell the Shadowhunters what you were reallying doing!” Lilly demanded. Darke looked at here with fear in his eyes and shook his head no. “You will answer the question!” She commanded.

“Fine we were hungry! That Bag shit is sick!” Darke shouted. Jace lowered his sword and looked at Lilly. “You see my Shadowhunters were doing there jobs and now we will hand them over to the clave over to Alec.” Jace says. Lilly sigh and nods.

“You can't!” Helena shouts.

“I can and I am you broke the law and now you must pay for that.” lilly says. Angelique pulls her staff back and Ruthie gets up off of Helena. Mekye cuffe’s them with manacles.

“Miss.Chan we will inform the Alliance once the Clave reaches a verdict.” Angelique says now holding on to Helena’s arm.

“Please call me Lilly and Thank you for not Killing them on the spot. You are one efficient team.” Lilly says with a fang filled smile.

“We are no team.” Mekyle smarts off.

“Oh yes you are I am officially Making you one. Ruthie you are the field medic I read your file and see that you are very adept at triage medicine. Angelique you will be the Institute ambassador.” Jase delegates.

“I will lead them.” Mekyle enterups.

“Like Hell you will. Mekyle you are a loose canon a major hot head. Xander will be your leader. I have watched you guys from when you entered the Hunters Moon. He is Calm under pressure and is strategic.” Jace explanes.

“Sir i am no leader I just do my Job as a Shadowhunter.” Xander says softly.

“Even more reason to Make you the team Leader. Those are me orders. Now get the fugitives back to the Institute.” Jace Orders.

“Yes Sir!” They all say and head back to the Institute.

“Not a bad Group you got there Jace.” Lilly says

“No no there not. Maybe they will fully take the Clave in the right direction.” Jace replays.

[magalidragon]

4 or 10 please!!!

Okay so I was going to do #10 in the when the sun sets in the east universe and I still will BUT then I got hit with feels and did #4 “hey I’m here now” in my silent shadow universe which hasn’t been posted yet. It’s angsty and sad but hopeful too. Don’t hate me! 🙈 (For those that didn’t see it, the moodboard and teaser for this fic is on my tumblr somewhere. Jon is deaf and has a wolf sanctuary, Dany is the veternarian)

#10. “Hey, I’m here now” — set in the as of now unpublished silent shadow universe

The world was closing in on him.

It was a constant sensation in his life, one he had grown used to since he was six-years old. Since that terrible day when he'd been playing with Robb, like nothing was wrong, and then he woke up in a hospital, with tubes and wires, his head exploding in pain, and...silence. Just nothing, nothing but vibrations when it was loud enough, nothing but humming when the frequency was just right.

He spent twenty years in his world, a world he'd created for himself, and part of that world entailed Ghost. Ghost was his counterpart, his equal, his shadow, and his heart and his soul. His entire world was courtesy of Ghost. Ghost let him know when someone was there, he saved him from stepping off the sidewalk without hearing the car coming around the corner...he was his ears, his eyes, and his entire life. Without Ghost he didn't know where he'd be.

Arya tried to get him to calm down, but it was no use. He dug his fingers into his scalp, tearing at his curls, yanking them free from the messy bun on the back of his head, and whimpered, like how he imagined his wolf felt. No, not imagine, he knew. His cousin held his wrists, her lips moving, gray eyes just like his wide and focused on him, and his brain processed what she was saying, but he didn't hear it. They were just words.

She let go of his hands, signing furiously, like he didn't know what she was already saying. It didn't matter. “Where is she!?" he shouted, knowing in his heightened state what he said was probably unintelligible. He caught sight of the huge Suburban rolling up and raced towards it, panicked, not even waiting for the tires to squeal to a stop before he threw open the door and grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the cab.

Silver hair flew around her face, her cheeks flushed, and she was dressed haphazardly. Arya had called her about thirty minutes ago. It took almost that long just to get from the front gate to the location in the depths of the sanctuary. He'd be impressed with her speed, if it weren't such dire circumstances. She was speaking to Arya, running with him, her bag slamming against her hip. He felt the pounding of his heart in his ears, the rush of his blood. Each foot on the ground anchored him to the present, the vibrations moving from his soles into his actual soul.

They broke through the trees, to the clearing, where his heart lay on the ground, white fur damp and stained red. They always said that his eyes were bloody, but no one really knew, he supposed, what the real color of blood happened to be. It was crimson, so dark it was almost black, pumping from the gashes and wounds in his side. Ghost's eyes were red like rubies, like the glow of a sunset, not the hideous hue of the liquid leaving his body as fast as his body could generate it.

His beautiful red eyes were closed, breathing labored, fighting with all the strength left in hi.m Jon didn't know what he would do if he lost him. He knelt to his companion's side, looking over at Daenerys as she began to work, pulling on gloves and instantly triaging. A finger darted out, guiding his chin up and he stared at her, watching her lips form the words clearly while her hand moved in unison.

"Hey, I'm here now."

He nodded quickly, knowing that if anything would save his wolf, it would be her. He didn't sign his response; he didn't need to, just mouthed the words, not a whisper from him. "Thank you."

In their language, the strange mix of sign, lip-reading, and gentle touches they'd perfected over the months together, he helped her stabilize him, get him onto the stretcher Arya and Gendry brought out, and into the back of the Suburban. He felt the vibrations from the siren in his head, wondering if it was even legal for her to have one when she wasn't a police officer, but he didn't care. He'd deal with it if they were stopped. it was Winterfell, everyone knew everyone. They understood what this meant.

At the hospital he fell back, while she and her assistants ran in to work on him. Arya came up to him, tried to get him to come wash his hands, change out of his bloody shirt, but he didn't move. He replayed it all in his head, how they had even gotten to this point. The tracks in the snow, the worry he felt as one of his beloved wolves had already been injured-- Lady was a gentle creature, she was too used to humans and other creatures, no doubt she thought the animal was friendly.

A fully grown male grizzly bear early awakening from hibernation, hungry and still exhausted, confused, a single wolf would not be able to survive against it, but Lady had gotten away with a gash on her muzzle, her beautiful white and gray fur marred forever with the scars she would have. He went out with Ghost, to track the animal, to try to find it and figure its location, intent on calling the game wardens and having them come to relocate the animal somewhere else. Not in his sanctuary, for instance.

And Ghost saved him.

"She's a good doctor, Jon. He'll be fine."

He signed the words, too tired to speak them. "He saved me."

Arya clutched him, her tears wet on his cheek. She tapped the words into his hand, signing them even when he wasn't looking, but he knew. "He did what he was meant to do."

Ghost saved him from a bear, but he saved him from despair and loneliness, and he gave him a voice when he had none to give.

He did what he could, pushing it from his mind, and hours passed. Hours where he wondered if his heart would stop beating, if his breath would just suddenly cease, and he would die with his wolf. What am I going to do? he wondered.

"Jon."

The light touch on his shoulder jerked his head up, seeing her sign his name, her lips forming the words, and he knew. He lunged for her, tears hot on his cheeks, wracking sobs escaping his body, shaking him to his core. She clutched him, burying her face into his neck, kissing the pulse there. He pushed by her and ran into the room, and almost collapsed atop the white form lying on the bed, stark white bandages around his body, a tube helping him breathe, but the line on the computer monitor beside him beeping.

Jon might not have been able to hear it, but he knew what those lines meant, and he verified them with his ear pressed to Ghost's chest, the steady thud lulling him into a trance.

Thud-thum. Thud-thum. Thud-thum.

He turned his face from his wolf's soft fur, kissing at his muzzle and crying, Dany behind him holding his shoulders steady as his body, exhausted and overwhelmed, just gave out, relieved. He didn't know how long he knelt there, or when someone moved him, but soon he was in his house with Dany, both of them frantic, adrenaline and need raging through them.

They tore at each other's clothes, falling into each other, consumed with desperation to just feel alive. He knew the psychology of it, the reasons why when faced with death and chaos and possible loss, the human mind and body finally synced up with the single focus of wanting to fuck, to take and give to another person's body and mind, to remind itself there is still life, there is still feeling and love and passion, even when faced with ones own mortality. We aren't dead yet, was all it repeated.

He collapsed beside her, his face buried in her chest, inhaling the slightly floral scent from her shampoo, the lavender of her body lotion, and the sweat and lingering antiseptic and coppery blood from the surgery room. His fingers sought hers, clenching, embracing over her heart.

Jon might not be able to hear her voice-- one of the only things in his life he truly missed, truly wished he could go back in time and tell the little boy not to climb that tree, not to go dancing along the edge of the castle wall, and not to slip and fall trying to beat Robb in a race. He could not hear her voice, but he could feel it, in the beating of her heart, in the steady thrum of her pulse, and the way her lips moved at his ear, the breath tickling. Her fingers sought out his, clenched tight, and she moved her hand in front of them, heads resting together on the same pillow.

“I’m here now”

He smiled, a rare sight only she got to see. He touched her lips, as she formed the words again, reassuring him, and he understood. He mouthed the words back: "I know." He then slipped his hand between them, covering her heart, and moved his fingers into the sign, the one she knew, that everyone in the world seemed to know, but for him was the hardest one of all. The only one he never used, in some ways never felt he would ever have need to use, but when Daenerys came into his life, it was the only one he felt he truly understood.

I love you.

[thevagabondvantage]

10.1.2020

“It smells like a hospital in here!”

“Grandma, this is a hospital…”

“Well, does it have to smell like one?” Grandma reaches for the cup of ice on the bedside table. She’s always loved to crunch ice. I think it started as a stress reliever, but - through the years - it’s become sort of like a bell on a cat’s collar. You can hear the ice chomping from the driveway of her house. “It’s so cold in this room!”

“Well,” I reach for her cup, “you might not be so cold if you’d put the ice down.”

“I’ll stop chewing ice when they tell me I can start smoking again!” She places a hand over her cup and moves it further from my reach..

“You know that’ll never happen, right?” I chuckle.

“Then I’m not quitting the ice!” With all the vinegar she can rally, she pops another chunk into her mouth  and chomps as loud as she can. She’s spunky, I’ll give her that. “Adelaide, grab my Suduku book. Grandma needs another puzzle.” 

“Do you mean your Sudoku book?”

“No.” Her wish is my command.

As I rummage through her purse, I hear saying my name on replay. Adelaide. She’s the only person who calls me by my full first name. I usually prefer being called Addie, but the way she says it just feels so beautiful; and it ought to! After all, it’s her name, too! Grandma was diagnosed with lung cancer right before I was born. The doctors gave her three months to live, so Mom insisted I be named after this amazing woman that I would never meet. Nineteen years later...

“Get a move on it,” she barks. “It’s puzzle time!” Clearly, her oncologist didn’t take her charming impatience into account. We think she kept on living just to spite the son of a bitch. I hand her the godforsaken Sudoku book and return to my seat on the foot of her bed. Her eyes are so focused on the numbers while she grasps the pen as hard as she can. That grasp has been getting weaker and weaker over the past few months; she looks as if she could drop the pen at any moment. She says she’s fine, but her body whole-heartedly disagrees.

“Excuse me,” a tall man in a white coat interrupts. “How are you feeling this afternoon, Ms. Avril?” Grandma doesn’t look up from her puzzles. He clears his throat and says a little louder, “Ms. Avril, how are you feeling this afternoon?” She still doesn’t respond. He looks at her and then at me, as if pleading for help.

“Grandma,” I snatch the book from her cold, leathery hands. “Play nice and answer the doctor.” She sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Will a simple ‘fine’ get you on to your next point?” She fakes a smile with her question.

“Uh…” This doctor clearly hasn’t experienced the thunderous disdain of a seventy-six year old bitch.

“I’m sorry about her. Hospitals make her a little hostile.” I’m sugarcoating.

“Right, yes, um…” The doctor gathers himself as he flips through some papers on his chart. “I have your EKG results here. I’m happy to say that you were not in cardiac arrest, as we initially thought. We did see a little bit of an irregular beat, but nothing to be overly concerned about.”

“That’s great news!” I encourage Grandma to a least crack a smile.

“And I get to go home when?” She refuses to smile. 

“Well, barring any other concerns you all may have, you’re free to go!”

“Halle-freakin-lujah,” she says through a menacing smile. She chooses to show emotion at the strangest of times. “Adelaide, gather my things. We’re getting out of here!”

“Would you like me to have a nurse bring a wheelchair in for you?” I know his question is routine, but-

“Fuck off,” she says as she throws her legs off the bed. He should have known better.

“You two have a great evening.” The doctor leaves as quickly as fast as he can. Sure, Grandma is rough around the edges, but she really is very sweet when you get past the verbal abuse and mild racism. 

“Well, that's the closest I've ever come to a heart attack. Let's not do this again.” 

“Let’s not do this again?! This was a trip to the emergency room, not a trip to the zoo! You called me and said your arm was tingling, what did you expect?”

“Next time, I’m calling one of my other grandchildren. Maybe they will take me to the zoo! If I die of a damn heart attack, I want to be staring at the ass of an overly-sexual baboon, not in a cold jail cell you call a hospital!” By now, her feet have met the floor, and she’s begun to stand for the first time in a few hours. Her knees are shaky; well, shakier than normal. “I’m headed to the bathroom. When I’m done, we’re getting out of this shithole.” I scurry to her side to help her along, but she swats me away. “I’m seventy-six, not ninety! Find another pedestrian to help.” Just like that, she scoots into the restroom and intentionally/unintentionally slams the door behind her.

Down the hall, I hear various hospital sounds; someone yelling about their bill, the laughter of a family being reminded of what truly matters, the monotonous tone of a flatline that leads to inexplicable heart ache, and a lot of typing from the nurse’s triage. Grandma’s ice chomping blocked out these sounds before, and - while they aren’t always pleasant - they paint a unique picture that can’t be recreated away from the moment. Her ice addiction annoys the shit out of me, but I know my days with her are numbered, so I’ll take the crunching and munching while I can! I grab her ice cup from her bedside table and start to head into the hallway.

“Grandma, I’m gonna refill your ice cup real quick. Want anything else?” She doesn’t respond. Old ears, I assume, so I move in closer to the door. “Grandma,” I loudly repeat. “I’m gonna refill your ice cup real quick. Want anything else?!” She still doesn’t respond. I knock on the door and call out louder, “Grandma!”

Nothing.

A louder knock.

“Grandma!!”

Still nothing.

I start to worry.

“Grandma?!”

I jiggle the door handle, which is thankfully unlocked. I push down and start to enter.

“GRANDM-” My eyes silence my voice before I can finish. Time stands still for a moment. I only see her legs, which are tangled about the bathroom. Her head is behind the door and her entire body is face-down. She takes naps in strange positions sometimes, but this isn’t one of those instances...

“Nurse?” I whisper.

I back out of the bathroom.

“Nurse.” 

I drop the ice cup. 

The crashing sounds oddly similar to the chomping.

“NURSE!”

[writermuses]

I’ll Keep A Light On To Call You Back Home || Micalessah Apocalyptica Deathy Goodness

Micah didn’t want to go out. He was still reeling from the loss of his baby brother and had only just come to terms with Caleb’s absence. Now Kai was in labor, their home in danger, and his friends in desperate need of medical attention that only he had the proper training for. His stomach twisted as he told Alessandra he had to go and promised, not that he would do everything he could to get back but that he flatly would come home. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it, Micah was determined to get back to them and protect them, to see their children hit milestones, to continue to shower his wife in a lifetime of love.

The drive to the zoo made him more than nervous. Buildings were still burning and ash littered the road with the usual debris and bodies. There was no cover, no higher ground, and his hand continued to reach for his gun in desperation to get back. After brief triage and explaining to each person what they needed to get better, they started the trek back home. With every stop to clear the road or avoid this and that, a memory of the pre-apocalyptic peace he and Alessandra once had played through his head. The warmth of her arms around him after a night of laughter and glasses of wine seemed to replay as he stepped out with his gun in his hand.

Before Micah could know what happened, his body went ridged and collapsed under the weight of him. The briefest sputter of blood passed his lips as he exhaled one last breath on the ashen pavement. There wasn’t time to think about what came next or regrets of missed opportunities to hug his family and remind them he loved them. Perhaps the sniper thought they’d shot him in the head, maybe they didn’t realize he was undead, but as the group sped away and left him behind he rose again. Was it his own desire to go home that drove him forward after the vehicle? Maybe the familiar scent pulled him on. As the zombie snapped and snarled, crawling in thrashing, snapping for flesh, another shot found him. His pale blue eyes were wide open and lifeless, forever left staring home and his face remained permanently contorted in frustrated determination. I’m coming home, he’d promised, but home would be a long wait for Aless and the kids.

[613526362]

Poodle or die

I’m sitting here, teaching a pediatric medical course right now, watching the videos along with the students, and I feel it coming on I feel the depression coming It’s crazy This journal was supposed to be the story of a burgeoning humanitarian struggling to get back to what he loved most - Africa Instead, it has turned into a tale of psychological self-discovery, a fight for survival against one’s own mind I fear the coming months are going to be a fight against money That’s typically when I do worst - when I’m worried about money And I’ll have to fight against money alone. I’m not sure if Nia left me or I left her, but it doesn’t matter. She never even pretended to care. My friends told me a girl who messages me back a day or two after I messaged her doesn’t care. But I didn’t listen. I took her to the $1,200 play she had always dreamed of seeing before she seems to have dropped me. That’s right, the financial problems will be my fault as always. I wasn’t trying to buy love, I was just trying to show how much I care and hoped someone might care back. Wrong, again. Yes I still think it’s cool I made a first-generation Ethiopian girl’s dreams come true, and yes the play was fucking amazing. Even though there were more black people on stage than in the entire crowd. And every seat was taken. I don’t think she appreciated me pointing that out. She doesn’t see the things I see. She’s never been to Africa. I would have taken her too, but maybe it would have been too late for her mind to understand anyways. At this point, she’s just another American. The chronic disease of being-an-American defines her now. Did I mention she didn’t text me back all day the day of the play, and I actually was trying to find someone to go in her place because I thought I was getting stood up? Did I mention it was literally past the time when I was supposed to pick her up - and I was about to go to a bus stop and offer strangers the ticket - when she finally called back? Maybe she’s seeing someone else. Fuck it, I’m getting a dog. I’m not sure if I even care if I can afford a dog. Every day I wish Maya would message me. But she never does. I want to talk to her so bad, but every time she messages me (about a month ago was the last time), I delete her number. Knowing what I want and knowing what’s right is something I might be getting slowly better at. The dog is what’s right now. I really will. I will kill myself in the darkest part of the winter, when business sales are low or I’m worried about the IRS or some girl has hurt me again, I WILL kill myself this winter, unless something changes. I could never blow my brains out with a dog who loves me in the other room. Never. The last two days I’ve been obsessing over researching the dog purchase. My dad is a veterinarian, so obviously he was my first stop. When presented in the context of, “This could be challenging, but women treat me like shit and women and children are way more expensive,” he was actually quite supportive. But only after suggesting, “How about no women or dogs. Maybe pet rock?” Pet 9mm Glock that expels a 1,500 feet per second steel projectile into my inner brain is the alternative. If he’d known that he wouldn’t have suggested the rock. I’ll be in Africa for a week in early October, so I’m hoping to bring him home right after I get back. I hate that the poor little bastard will have to live his first months in the fierce winter of The Big City. But shit, I have to live through those months too, and at least we’ll have each other. And once again, if I wait, I’m probably dead. This big business move I’m making, there is a good chance it will fail. In which case, once again, the only thing keeping me alive while fighting through bankruptcy battles and maybe dropping out of medical school, would be the dog. If I turn out to be a failure in everything and wrong about everything, well, the dog won’t give a shit. He’ll just want to play and cuddle. And if I actually finish school and move to east Africa, he can come too. No matter how hard, I’ll smuggle his ass in. My dad says if you shave a Labrador, the shedding isn’t too bad. Their coat is thick though, so a lab would struggle in some of the hotter areas of east Africa. What people don’t realize is that the Standard Poodle is the Navy SEAL of dogs. They don’t shed, so they leave no trace. They have thin skin and a long nose, which is good for hot climates, and they can grow their hair out for more warmth in a colder climate. They’re also light and agile, and can swim or run for long distances. Lastly, they’re always considered one of the smartest dog breeds. I hope I can keep up. Redacted Two days have passed I’m in bed now I woke up around noon, I think I worked from 7p to 7a last night On the way home, I started crying real bad That hasn’t happened in a while I don’t think I’ve cried while driving in years. It’s very rare I cry at all. I don’t know whether to describe the things I see at work anymore. I don’t know if I can. I just know the day after I always seem to wind up sitting around replaying things I saw the night before. At first I was upset they put me in triage. I hadn’t worked there in 7 months. I didn’t realize it would bring me so much closer to the horror of what’s going on out there. In triage, you hear all the stories. The shift started with a whimper. I had a middle aged black woman walk up to my triage desk with a suitcase and a four year old child. “I was told by the state that I can come here to seek shelter.” Wait what. I had absolutely no fucking clue what to say. All I knew was that she was at the wrong place. Charge nurse told me to call the city hotline. I did, and when the lady on the hotline asked to talk to the woman in need of shelter, I went into the waiting room, handed my $800 cell phone to her, and then left the room. God has taught me a lot over time. One thing I’ve learned is that I’m generally protected when taking risks to help people in need. Generally safe, that is. Safe from immediate adverse harm. Not safe from long term consequences though. After I got my phone back and some amount of time passed, I noticed she was gone. We had a number of those throughout the night, but the rest just wanted to sleep in the waiting room. One of them was a younger black woman, must have been in her late 20’s. She said she was homeless, and her torn clothing and disheveled grooming seemed to reinforce that statement. The only question she didn’t seem to answer was, “What do the voices say when you hear them.” She got a really terrifying look in her eye when I asked that. But she didn’t answer. Even when I asked twice more. When Dan left me in triage alone with her for a minute, my mood immediately changed. It was weird. I guess I have my guard up when I’m around other staff members. Immediately after he walked out of the room, I felt a kind of intimacy with her. I wish I could have held her. But she would never have wanted to hug me, and it wouldn’t have made her feel any better even if it had happened. She had asked me for a blanket, and I grabbed her one before she left. It wasn’t before she had left the room completely and gone back out to the waiting room that I noticed there was blood on the chair she had been sitting in. I figured it was probably from a patient before her, so I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned it off. A minute later I was back up front in triage, and I noticed there was even more blood on another chair she had sat in before I had taken her to the back room for blood draw. In emergency medicine, we’re not supposed to assume anything, so I needed to figure out where she was bleeding from. Obviously it was probably menstrual, but I couldn’t assume that. If it was rectal bleeding, although extremely unlikely, it could be deadly. I went and searched for her in the waiting room, and I found her lying on the concrete floor with the blanket over her. She had made a little bed for herself, using a small piece of clothing as a pillow. “Are you bleeding?” No response. “Where are you bleeding from?” Then she blurted out, “On my period I guess.” I walked away. I decided to get her another blanket, and a blanket for the other homeless man trying to sleep on the waiting room. I walked to the blanket warmer in a nonsensical path, not allowing any of the employees to see me twice. I knew it was against policy to give people in the waiting room a blanket. Back when I worked in the ER at (redacted), I used to take tons of juice out to the waiting room and give it out to anyone who wanted some. They would have been furious had they caught me doing that. When I put the second blanket on her, I guess I had meant to kind of lay it over her, but since I was standing over her and hadn’t taken the time to lean down, it came out as more of a throw. The top of the blanket, still balled up, smacked her in the face. She didn’t move, or react at all. I wondered if she even knew what had just happened, and, if she did, what she thought of it. It didn’t matter though. Here was a young, black, penniless, filthy, schizophrenic, woman, lying, soaked, in her own menstrual blood, on a concrete floor, in a dilapidated hospital, in a devastated, ultra-violent, 100% Black neighborhood, three miles from Trump tower and its $60 cocktails. And I just aggressively hit her in the head with a blanked stained with blood from one of her young Black brothers shot to death on the same streets she sleeps in, gets raped in. I am sorry I hide this. People should hear it. I just spent six hours shopping for dog clothing online. I just mailed a $750 deposit for a pure bred standard poodle this morning. Because I can’t even hear it myself. I started fighting this war so long ago, and unlike those who never even cared to admit they have a role in this war, or that there’s even anything to fight, I have become affected more and more by the war and my identity in it. I am ultimately isolated and alienated, by my own mental illness, and the burden of the path that mental illness and the abuse I have suffered and witnessed has taken me down. And I come to the same conclusion I came to before my shift last night. I really need a fucking dog. Redacted I hated my mom, for so many years after high school. Simply for what she did to me. It’s crazy that I finally learned that my dad told her that he would leave her if she didn’t get mental help, and she refused to. That made perfect sense. I think the turning point, where I stopped blaming the person and started to feel compassion for what the disease did to the person, was my trip to Sand state. She had a guest bedroom and a guest bathroom in this house she’d been renting for a while. She’d tried to make everything perfect for me, had a clean towel in there and new toiletries if I needed them. When I went to take a shower that night, I turned on the water. Turned the nobs a bit. Waited. Turned them some more. And waited. Eventually, I figured out the hot water didn’t work in there. She had never had anyone stay with her. No one had actually ever used the guest bedroom, or bathroom. Redacted When I walked back to my bedroom from the bathroom, I glanced at the shelves and saw the toothbrush and toothpaste in the packaging on the top shelf. I’d bought them when I started the whole dating app thing. The one girl who had stayed over I guess was too drunk to use them. I offered in the morning if she wanted to shower and everything, but she just wanted to fuck more and then leave. I hoped that Nia would eventually use them. I’ll never know what was going on in that girl’s head. But I know God saved her a bullet by keeping her from wanting me. I think people like my mom and me (saying “my mom and me” is pure evidence of how much I’ve come to understand this year - I never would have said anything like that before), I think people like my mom and me need to live alone. Yes, when I was dancing violently to Juice Wrld a minute ago and then fell to the floor and spit on the floor, yes, I wouldn’t be able to act that way if I lived with someone else. And maybe keeping that bottled in wouldn’t even be bad for me. But still, it feels right to be alone. To flush all this out. It would just terrify and damage someone else. I wonder what my mom does when she’s alone. As kids, I just remember she would get depressed and watch TV for long, long periods of time. And then she would obsess herself with weird projects and work tirelessly on them. I just thought of something scary. I’m supposed to have bipolar II. But my mom got hospitalized. Did she have bipolar I? Ok I’m going to stop thinking about that and just finish this post the way I had planned to. I used to have all sorts of cool names I thought I could name my book. Now I’m thinking, “Living for Suicide: Meditations on Mental Illness, Sacrifice, and Being Alone” The title doesn’t even fucking mention Africa anymore Fuck I’m still going to accomplish something, right?