Hi all, I know I'm not super active on whumpblr anymore but I've got this idea for an rp server. It would be set up for play by post, in the same rough cinematic universe but with a few different setting options. For example, most of the ideas I'm getting are modern day, but some could be sci-fi too.
Full disclosure, this is the result of me and best friend watching a combination of MrBallen, Kyle Hates Hiking, and Horrible Fates. We both finish a story and go "okay so we need to fix that".
So, what would it be like? A very chill, most likely pretty slow running, server, focused on rescue missions and the immediately following medical aid. Basically, a bunch of elite experts in things like search and rescue, diving, spelunking, industrial environment safety... and this team gets the calls that are pretty much otherwise a lost cause. Some of them go out, whoever matches. ......you know, like Paw Patrol.
Cases would be a single rp, with the team decided in the planning phase, and after it ended, it would end, unless you personally wanted to carry things forward and both players agreed if it was a multiple character thing like a developing bond or inside joke. Two yeses, one no rule on that stuff.
You could have as many OCs as you want as options, both team members, victims, and folks who do both. That's why I'm doing an interest check-- I'll need a few people. And I'm not an OC gremlin like most people, I'm a pitch gremlin. So those people who have one william OCs to put in situations? I love y'all, you're perfect for this.
I know that a lot of us have whump domains that we're experts in, and I also know that three of the top ones are wilderness survival, rescue, and critical care. For me personally, getting to show off that expertise is a lot of fun, but I don't always have the spoons to write fic. I do have the spoons for rp pretty often though, and I do best with a "monster of the week" type setup, where it's bite sized, poppable, little episodes of rp, rather than a long running overarching thing. I'm hoping others do as well, and that there's interest in this. Can't promise that I'll be that great at running a server. I'm super busy irl. But wanted to put this out here, just in case. Feel free to reblog, comment, etc etc. Thanks.
Summary: …and because given the choice between the two directions, he'll always pick forward over back, she can hear the door click closed and his voice, one step nearer than a second ago, say “In.”
She walked into Medical, she made it at least that far. Gave report. Offworld call, crash site with hostiles, two wounded from the planet, two to three from their team: Wash, who she was giving report on when Locus came partially to check on him and mostly to collect Felix, who she wanted checked out because he was nearly as close as Wash to the same grenade and must have hurt something, …and herself.
“Chart number’s 2522, we need a type and screen but should come back O negative. Gross somatic trauma secondary to a frag grenade detonation, twenty meters distance, confined space. Lacerations all over, risk of concussive barotrauma, worst wounds are on the legs and shoulders and he's already down a couple units of blood, minimum.” She didn't break stride as they hit the bay doors to Medical, walking along with the stretcher while adjusting a sensor with one hand. “500 saline bolus during takeoff and it's been running wide open on the flight. Pressors and pain control on board, BP’s low, pulse is compensating…”
“Who's the other patient?” Grey had glanced over the rims of her safety glasses with a look that said she definitely already knew the answer.
“Me, sucking chest wound, but as long as the patch I've got on it holds, I can wait, besides I still need to do a head CT on–”
“Oh no you can't. Trauma 2.” She pointed. Oklahoma was still pointing out some numbers on Wash’s charting, which was up on a holo display above his chest.
“I'm fine. Just a minute–”
“Now, Agent. Kansas, you take Washington.” Her tone left no room for argument. Even Locus glanced up at the sharp tone, closer to the stretcher than she'd realized with one hand against Washington's shoulder, talking to Felix about something she didn't have enough spare attention slots to follow. OK hadn't even noticed the two mercs meeting up and trading clipped mission details until, in the confusion, the crowd around the stretcher split and left herself and Grey in Trauma 2, and Felix, who she'd been about to walk down the hall to radiology, standing in the doorway.
“You need something?” Grey was already grabbing supplies as she nudged Oklahoma toward the table. “We're a little busy.”
“He was close to the same explosion that caught Wash. Needs imaging and–”
“I asked him.”
Felix had shrugged at them. “Medic said I couldn't leave without a checkup.”
“I can see you after her. Or you can find someone else.”
Why was he looking at her like that? He'd seen blood before, he'd definitely seen her blood before… but he was staring at the place where it was wicking out onto the exam table paper from her soaked-through blacks, eyes widening as her plates were nudged apart, the soft, stretchy under armor fabric was cut away, and the patch was carefully eased loose, then replaced with a temporary valve with a soft but wetly audible pop. She heard Grey sigh in frustration over the rustle of PPE.
“In or out, Gates.”
…and because given the choice between the two directions, he'll always pick forward over back, she can hear the door click closed and his voice, one step nearer than a second ago, say “In.”
“Stand there, don't move.” Her voice is clipped, but there's a soft edge to it that OK’s only used to hearing when Grey is watching a procedure and appreciates someone's practice. It's the kind of tone she uses while she's walking a resident through a procedure, but has already become impressed with their sterile technique. It's not something you hear from her often, and since it's extremely high praise, she'd know– she's always hoping to hear it from over her shoulder as she works. “You get dizzy, sit before you fall.”
“I'm used to blood.” Her eyes flick open to make sure she isn't hallucinating. Nope. He's still here.
“Not the blood we're worried about.” Grey is setting up the instruments and supplies to her left. Felix is on her right, a few feet away, which means she has a chance.
“Get out of here. What are you even–” The valve is removed to prep the site. This time, when she inhales to talk, her chest spasms and locks up. Grey clicks her tongue.
“Agent. Settle down.”
“Don't you have…” there, she can make it if she goes a few words at a time, “...something else to… do?” Breathing hurts, but she can always hurt later. “Training? preening?” pause, breathe, “...a nap?”
“We're not opening and closing the door again while I'm doing a sterile procedure, Agent. He's in. For the duration.”
“Have to get checked out before I can leave.” Was he that pale a minute ago? She had trouble keeping her eyes open, she can't remember. “Medic’s orders.”
“You're… gonna be waiting.” There's the skin prep. She keeps herself still for the swipe and scrub that feels freezing cold compared to the flushed, inflamed skin it's touching, but it's a near thing.
“Figured as much.”
“Go get Kansas.”
“After this. Can't leave, remember?”
“Brace, Agent. We don't have time to numb.”
“Mhm.” as deep a breath in as she can get, and she's trying to hang onto the side of the table for stability. He's not supposed to see this, any of this…
“Gates.”
“Yeah?”
“Make yourself useful and put your hands here, and here.” Warm pressure on her right shoulder, pinning it to the table, and under her left arm, holding it up and out of the way. Her eyes fly open. His face is inches away from hers, and one of his hips is instinctively pinning hers down as he leans over from the side of the table, their respective armor plates almost locked with each other from the angle and pressure.
“I can… keep myself still, Grey.”
“And now you don't have to.” The drape is nudged under her ribcage and this is not how this is supposed to go. Her eyes meet his. Keep the civilian calm. Not a civilian, exactly. But still. She can do that.
“Felix. Don't look.”
“I kill people for a living.” He sounds thoroughly unimpressed. “Remember?”
“Still…” the scalpel brushes her skin and she tenses up. His grip adapts to it. Her pulse does something it's definitely not supposed to that she chooses to write off as anticipation of pain.
“I'll be fine.” she watches his gaze flick over to where Grey is carefully slicing between one rib and another, then back to her face, eyes a little wider than before. She's setting her jaw before the clamp can slip inside and start to open, watching his eyes. Manage the person in the room who's the most inexperienced, she can do that.
“It's… okay. This is… gonna hel—” There's the clamp. Her eyes cross from the pain, watering at the edges, and by the time she blinks them clear, it's gotten hard to talk. Then the clamp opens, a layered series of wet, ripping, tearing sounds, and her vision fills up with stars. As they clear, she watches Felix’ eyes jump to the side, nearly flinch, and then flicker back to hers.
“Told you–”
“Stop talking, Agent.” Grey's voice has thoroughly lost that approving soft edge, going flat and hard instead, the tone of *you know better than that*.
Her mouth moves silently, because if she worries about keeping a trained killer from fainting at the sight of blood, she doesn't have to worry about the chest tube that she can't do anything about. Eyes over here. Don't look.
“You don't look, either.” She can't place his tone, especially not with Grey sweeping her finger into the wound, pushing into the cut tissue and moving around. There's a twitch and what she knows from experience is a visible bulge in her intercostal skin. It's creepy the first fifty times you see it, and she has a feeling this is in his first five. What starts as a silent laugh cuts short when she coughs, tasting blood, and she can tell some made it onto her lips because instead of cutting to the side when Grey sharply tells them both to be still, his eyes drop to her mouth for just half a second. She shakes her head slightly. Nothing to worry about, perfectly normal.
I do this for a li– she only gets halfway through echoing his words back to him before the next phase of the procedure starts, a tube with a guidewire sliding into the newly created hole along with Grey’s gloved fingers, and she freezes up again from the pain. Keep her eyes on the civilian, for lack of a better term, and keep him calm, and she tries, but her expression isn't locking into the cool, collected mask it normally does. Felix has now, she's absolutely sure of it, gotten a lot paler than normal, and he's working hard on looking calm, just like she is. Not something she's seen him have to do since… well, since she was in Grey's place, and he was in hers, and… shit, this room is probably a PTSD minefield. It's alright, she starts. You're safe. Deep breath i–
There's another sound that's horrible the first few times you hear it, a wet, sucking pop, one last spike of pain, and then instant relief. The vitals monitor stops beeping in the one specific way that means low O2 sat, although the rest of the abnormal value orchestra keeps playing. Air floods into her lungs, and gets coughed back out again from the shock, each exhale blood-flecked and rough. Some of it gets on those shiny, polished plates and she winces.
“Sorry–”
“Don't. Move. Oklahoma.”
“Y… yes ma'am.”
“That includes speaking.”
Just a nod. She's setting the water chamber up– they're smaller and lighter now than civvie models, a little module about the size of a datapad that gets taped down on her side– and the grip on her shoulder and under her arm loosens. She watches him pause and look over to Grey for direction and that's got to be a hallucination of some kind. When has he ever waited for instructions from anyone but Locus or Price?
“Not yet. Still have to suture.”
“Got it.” Something has happened to his voice. Something probably related to a trauma trigger or forty-seven. She could kick herself if she wasn't currently being held down.
“Good instincts. We'll make a medic out of you yet.” The gentle tug of stitches being tied off barely registers compared to everything else. “If hurting people and being good at it ever gets boring, you let me know.”
“Not… uh, not likely.” A hard swallow and a glance towards the door. She knows that look.
“Go… go on. Incision’s closed.” She manages it without a cough this time, but he just shakes his head.
“Grey's not done yet.”
“You look like you're gonna pass out.”
“Well, I'm not. That would seriously cut into my preening time, remember?” With the worst of the hardware out of direct play, he seems like he's getting some color back. She has to be careful with laughing, but cracks a grin, and from the slight metallic taste, can tell it's red tinged. Oops.
“I'm fine. Really. Had a lot worse.”
“Yeah?” something in his gaze shifts, something she'd miss if she wasn't trying to hold eye contact and keep him calm. It's an angle of view almost like someone hearing news from the front line they do believe, but do *not* like.
“Oh, yeah. This is a pretty normal…” she pauses as the dressing is smoothed down. “...Tuesday.”
It doesn't seem to help the expression. If anything, that calculating angle gets a little worse.
“Done!” Grey finally pulls back, taking the drape and supplies with her.
“Felix? …you can let go.”
“Huh? –yeah.” His hands come off a little suddenly, leave places that start to chill unpleasantly to match the rest of her skin. Medical is always freezing. “Yeah.”
“You can go now.” She nods toward the door. “Procedure’s over, I'm fine, go get some fresh air, come back for imaging within two hours. Sorry about all this.”
“...Grey?”
“Gates?”
“When does that come out?”
“Couple days.” she glances over her shoulder and OK can see the glint in her eye that means she's going to make someone ask for something rather than reading their mind and silently planning along. “...Should I call you?”
“No!”
“Yeah. Call me.” The door clicks closed behind him. Footsteps fading, much slower than they should for someone rushing out of a room that reminded them of their last near death experience.
“You are not calling him.”
“I've never seen you hold that still before. I'm calling him the next time we change your IV site.”
Got into a discussion about emergency response at a professional retreat recently and everyone was going on and on about agility, and I was like, "Okay but what about contingency?"
And they were like "What?"
And I was like, "Agility isn't the ultimate form of preparedness. Contingency is. Agility still requires you to flounder and figure out a solution in the moment, but if you have a contingency plan, all you have to do is implement it."
And they were like "But you can't make contingency plans for every situation!"
And I was like, "Yeah, you basically can if you just identify all of your basic dependencies and contingency plan around the loss of any dependency," and then I gave a few examples.
And they all stared at me like I'm an alien.
Anyway, that's how I figured out I'm Batman-coded and also learned how Batman must feel talking to supposedly professional superheroes who never bothered to run disaster scenarios until I pointed out that it's insane that they don't already have a plan for if Superman turns evil.
There’s a phrase that really stuck in my head around this. It was from one of the British divers who enacted the Thai caving rescue, though I couldn’t tell you which one or which interview.
As he described to the interviewer a moment of panic and how he he overcame, the interviewer said, in one of those, summarise-last-answer-given-with-appropriate-levels-of-respect-in-order-to-proceed-to-next-question phrasing’s, “Wow, so you rose to the occasion -“
And the diver said, “No, actually people always get that exactly wrong. In an unexpected and urgent situation you don’t rise to the occasion. You sink to the level of your training.”
ive always thought that simmons' cyborg parts probably hurt. his spine would have needed to be replaced to support the weight of his arm and new synthetic 'organs' long-term. it's mortifying to break down in front of the person who received those original organs.
Thousands of starfish had washed up on the beach, and a little girl was diligently throwing them back into the water, one at a time.
A man came up to the girl and said, "You'll never save all of them. What you're doing is pointless. It doesn't matter."
The girl threw another starfish into the water. "It mattered to that one."
The man snorted and walked away.
The girl kept throwing starfish, one after another.
To throw one starfish back into the ocean takes a trivial amount of effort, but to throw ten, or fifty, is much less so. The girl had not learned much of biomechanics, but she began to feel the strain in her back. Her skin had softened from the seawater, and the starfish themselves were abrasive. Her fingers had pruned. Her shoulder hurt. She was cut, twice, on her fingers, as the same storm that had stranded the starfish had also brought up broken shells and crab carapaces. The skin of a starfish was like sandpaper.
She tried switching hands, and could throw the starfish less well, and it wasn't long before she had mirrored all her injuries. She was bleeding, though the blood wept rather than flowing, briefly staining the starfish pink before they were tossed into the ocean.
It seemed as though there were just as many dying starfish as when she'd started.
After three hours, the girl was sunburnt. A passing man had told her that she should stop what she was doing, and had offered her some water, which she took, but he hadn't helped to throw the starfish back.
The girl's hands were cracked, scraped, and raw. Saltwater found the wounds, but she'd gone numb, and her motions became more mechanical.
"It mattered to that one," she thought to herself, "It mattered to that one," over and over, like a mantra. Her muscles ached, but the ache became familiar. When she'd started, her throws had been beautiful things, guided by purpose, but now they were sloppy and threatened to pull her off balance.
She did fall, more than once, landing on sand that was filled with jagged debris, and sometimes she was slow to get up. But she did get up, because there were more starfish to save, tens of thousands of them.
Night fell, and it was harder to see the starfish, but they were still in need of help. She was tired, and the cuts on her fingers had multiplied. The skin had been wet for too long, and in one place, on her palm, where she had gripped a thousand starfish to throw them, a piece of white skin had come off.
Still, she kept throwing starfish.
Her mother didn't find her until after midnight.
"Hi mom," said the girl. Her voice croaked. She had been saying, "It mattered to that one" under her breath for long enough that her vocal cords had strained. She threw another starfish into the ocean.
"You need to come home," her mother said.
"These starfish will die without me," said the girl.
"I know," said her mother. "But you need to come home, because if you keep doing this, you'll collapse on the beach, and like a starfish, you'll need to be rescued too."
The girl stooped down, back aching, and picked up another starfish. Many of them had died by this point, but there were still uncountably many that lived. The rough skin of the starfish grated at her tender skin, but she rose and threw it, arm protesting, and watched it fall down into the water.
Her mother grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "I'm bringing you home," she said. "It would be better if I didn't have to carry you, but I will if I have to."
"I don't want to be the sort of person who leaves starfish to die," said the girl, shrugging off her mother. But a part of her did want to be carried, because she'd walked for miles along this beach, one stooping step at a time.
"I know," said her mother. "But to survive, you have to be. Save as many as you can, but take breaks, get good sleep, eat well. Then go back and save more."
The girl swayed where she was. She was close to passing out, though maybe it was because her rhythm had been interrupted.
Her mother held out a hand, so they could walk together, like they'd done when she was smaller.
And it was then that she noticed the scars on her mother's hands, the calluses and rough spots, the places where cuts had healed. She had seen her mother's hands many times before, but had never asked why they were that way.
The girl slipped her hand into her mother's and began to cry as they walked back home.
Guy who never feels like his problems are “bad enough” to be taken seriously: what if I hurt the character so horrifically that everyone around them could not possibly deny the severity of their pain even if the character themself tries to downplay it.
"Heads up down there. Wounded hostile just fell off the Tower, might land close to the evac zone. Fall should kill him but be on guard. I'm on the way down to help with patients and can double check he's gone. Medical, do you copy?"
"Got it, Doc's already here for backup, I see the casualty and am en route. Gray and orange armor, right?"
"Casualt--- no! No, he just tried to kill me!"
"Yeah, so I'll get him, and when you get down here, you get the next one."
"Oklahoma, that is an enemy asset."
"And Washington, these are the rules of engagement."
taking an absolutely unprecedented risk putting this back on the top of my blog but I feel it's important to add the context that this was moments before she did three solid hours of CPR on him, managed to get his pulse back, stitched up the gut wound, passed out from exhaustion... nearly went into rhabdo for his sorry ass... and he's still upset that his heart stopped long enough to lose the Great Key.
Alright, I guess we're attempting to write this (thank you beloved mutual ❤) so I'm tagging it properly. And then putting my phone down and going to bed because I'm a little fraidy cat......
"Alright. He's stable, going to be a long road but he should make it just fine. Any questions?"
"....no. No, thanks."
There's a pause. She glances at the figure in the bed. Back to the one sitting stiffly in the chair beside it.
"......what do you guys normally do after missions to wind down? Because, I mean, within reason..."
"We're usually both pretty tired. Turn on the TV and wind up passing out." He's watching every respiration carefully. "He falls asleep on me all the time."
"...you can hold his hand, you know. No judgment. You know how to get the side rails down?" She kneels and brushes sheets out of the way to keep the line of sight extra clear, demonstrates the catch once, twice. "Here. You try."
He's about three times her size, and was just on the wrong side of a war from her, but you wouldn't know it watching his hands move-- it's like any other family member stuck with any other patient in any other strange room full of things that don't make sense.
"There you go. All the other ones work the same way. I wouldn't pick him up just yet, but we verified-- no spinal injuries, armor took most of the fall. You can, ah, do with that information what you will. Again, no judgment. I'm the only one covering y'all until... well, the foreseeable future. You won't see anybody else come in." She doesn't mention how she had to fight Grey not to assign tech support, or her own relief, because someone else in her faction entering the room would only end badly.
"...understood." She can almost hear the gears turning.
"Need anything while I'm still physically in the room?"
"---Extra blankets. You can just tell me where they are. He's..." the words slow, as if they're being tripped up by something pesky like self awareness, then, "...he gets cold easy."
"Got it. You stay there, we've got some in a heater. I'll be right back."
She knocks when she gets to the door again. Waits to be called in. Even though it's only been two minutes. They need a little time before she opens the door to let go of each other's hands.
Post hypoxia Wash x Reader - SFW Headcanon (Fluff)
This is building off my previous post about hypoxia headcanon so check that one out if you want more context on why I am headcanoning each of these.
Word count: 2381
Early morning snuggles
Before the hypoxia Wash was a model of routine, waking up at the same time regardless if he slept or not, and doing the same exercise, drill, cleaning, etc. In the past when you used to try and get him to sleep in with you, he would do so reluctantly, and would often get antsy after an hour of lying around. He would need some serious persuasion to stay in bed after 7:30am.
The symptoms he experiences post hypoxia such as migraines, memory issues, slower cognitive processing, confusion, limb weakness, and reduced tolerance for emotional stress mean that he is slower to wake up and has trouble staying away in the morning. He may wake up several times and keep falling back asleep . He probably has limb weakness when he first wakes up, and may struggle with intense emotions from dreams or feeling disoriented.
He latches on to the sensory details- your smell, your skin, your heartbeat, your warmth, your hair and uses them to ground himself in something safe. You feel like home to him and he clings to you in the morning. He is sweet and cuddly and a little dopey.
Probably say “hey you” with a sweet little sleepy smile a couple times each morning.
He gets a spike of distress when you get up to leave. He probably makes a distressed sound and grips on a little tighter when you shift to get up. Sometimes he will insist it isn't morning yet and ask you to stay a little longer (you have blackout curtains). Other times he’ll be completely non verbal in the morning. He makes a happy little hum when you stay. When he has bad migraines he'll get nauseous and disoriented if you move the bed at all when getting up, and on these mornings he's probably cranky.
Doing almost everything together
Wash is going to depend on you for support a lot more than before and as a result you and him do more things together. Due to memory lapses,deficits in attention ,impulsive control, reasoning, executive functioning means Wash may do some stuff that is less than safe or counterproductive to his efforts. Like if he cooks, he might leave an open flame, walk away and forget. If he takes med he may forget if he took them already. When Wash has insight into his symptoms, he is more able to understand where he needs external support and implement with tools (check list, timers, reminders) or ask for help. His preferred way of receiving support is through team efforts, as it lets him lead where and how he wants support. So he might ask you to sit with him while he packs out a med pack for the week and ask “did I do this one already? Or does this look right to you?” Things like cooking dinner, laundry, managing upcoming appointments are now combined efforts. Less divide and conquer and more mutual participation .
However because of Anosognosia Wash insight into those support needs is not always consistent. When he is in denial of and dismisses stuff that happens because of his symptoms, he doesn't ask for help, and is less likely to accept support if it's famed as such. He also sometimes becomes agitated or shuts down if you try to have explicit conversations about it because he isn't ready to process and accept how things are different and he isn't just going to “bounce back”. So you found that framing support as company is easier for him to receive.
“I'd love to come on a walk with you: " is easier for him than "I'm worried you’ll get lost and forget where you are”.
Another piece of it is Wash doesn’t like being alone as much as previously. He gets time blindness and sometimes forgets what he is doing and it’s disorienting. He finds regulating his mood easier when there is someone else in the room. Even if it's just seeing you doing something on your own in another area, it's grounding.
Memories
Wash has always liked to reminisce on fond or comforting memories, however after his hypoxia, the way he does so changes. With the repeated story about his cat Loki, Wash is telling a story of resilience that gives him hope in his ability to bounce back (soothing an anxiety he isn't even fully aware of). The kinds of things he is doing to bring up with you are probably going to be similar in that way. He likely brings up these memories repeatedly. At first you might point out that it's a conversation you've had before, but he becomes discouraged and distressed when you do so. So you just kind of give slightly different responses each time he brings it up. Sometimes commenting on details you remember, other times just smiling warmly at him and saying “yeah i remember”.
Wash probably brings up shared memories a lot, especially ones that soothe anxiety about how he had changed. Even if has low insight into his symptoms, some part of him is going to make the connection between himself and other neurodivergent people who maintain intimate relationships/ friendships. So he may talk about the triplets from project freelancer or caboose more frequently than before.
He may also have anxiety about the dynamics of your relationship changing after his injury. He may repeatedly bring up memories he has of your interactions with caboose as a way to process and interpret your behavior now.
Eg: “Do you remember the first time I walked in on a caboose braiding your hair. Earlier that day I had to stop him from cracking my ribs when he'd hug me. I was so sure he’d like…accidentally rip your hair out or something, but he was so gentle.”
The first time he brings it up you say “You wouldn't stop staring. At the time I thought you were bent out of shape because it was against protocol or something.” The next time you comment on how caboose was always good at wiring and braiding isn't so different. The time after that you comment on how your (mom/sibling /friend) used to play with your hair when you were a kid and it was comforting.
These memories serve as a foundation for how he understands your relationships with neurodivergent people who can’t always reciprocate support in the same way.
The more he has memories of you openly communicating your needs and being receptive to receiving compassionate giving that isn't always directed in the way you expected, the more reassured he feels in his current relationship with you.
He probably also brings up memories of important milestones in your relationship with him. Like the first time he realized he had romantic feelings for you. Times you spent together late at night talking about everything and nothing. He is making meaning by placing your current relationship in the context of all your past intimacy.
Wash also talks more about his past and childhood than ever before. You learn more about his life in the months after his neck injury than you learned in years of knowing and dating him.
Routines
Wash has always been the kind of person to take comfort in routines and things being done according to the rules, the way they have always been done etc. When he was a little kid he always liked when things were at the same time, bedtime, school lunch etc. He liked doing things exactly the way he was taught and would get anxious and upset when people did things “wrong” or when routines got disrupted. He is still like that throughout project freelancer and afterwards, though significantly more flexible than he was in childhood. However whenever he is anxious or overwhelmed he relies more on the comfort of routine and the familiar.
The memory loss post hypoxia makes reality distorting for Wash and the reduced capacity for stress means that he is more often needing to use routines and the familiar to gain comfort and a sense of control. As a result little rituals he shares with you become very important to him. If Wash used to make you coffee or toast every morning before his injury you can bet he is going to want to keep making you coffee and toast every day. He is going to want to sit in the same spot at the end of the day and hear about whatever you were doing or thinking about even if he forgets or if you were together all day.
If he has old habits like coming up behind you and hugging you or telling you he loves you every night, then memory lapses may mean he does the same things throughout the day multiple times without noticing. He isn't worried about seeming clingy or too much, he is just delighted to be with you each time.
On the flip side he will become anxious, confused, and dysregulated when they are skipped or missed or different. For example if his PT or OT schedule gets moved around he will not know what to do during the time they were supposed to be and might get stuck just kinda doing nothing.
Separation distress/ protectiveness
With all of the loss and trauma Wash has experienced; Wash anxious whenever you're separated, but especially when you're the one leaving. When he is the one leaving there is greater sense of control and reassurance that you are somewhere he expects you to be, somewhere safe. Before hypoxia, like during the time on Chorus, if you went out on a mission without him, he was significantly more anxious, then when he went out on missions without you. This is a little bit because of his perceived competence of your battle and survival skills, but is mostly grounded in his attachment to you. You are his safe haven and home base, and when you are the one leaving there is always the hypothetical threat you won't come back. After the war when you were all retired on Iris Wash would always offer to come with you when you’d wanna go on a hike or swim, partly because he liked spending time with you and partly because when you would go alone he would worry until you’d come back. He would usually frame it as a a practical safety concern “There are those dinosaur things, none os us should be wondering around alone”
Post hypoxia, Wash is less able to hide his anxiety or frame it in terms of practical arguments. Additionally he experiences more intense emotions in relation to situations where there is less actual threat. This is compounded anytime routines get interrupted or his expectations are violated, and he is alone to catastrophize about all the things that could have possibly gone wrong. Like for example if you and Wash have a routine where you brush teeth together and you leave a room to get something or check on something, at first he’s like “oh okay”, but then he starts to get anxious, he had trouble perceiving how much time has passed, he forgets why you said you left, and starts getting all these racing thoughts, Are you upset ? Are you ok? How long has it been? It shouldn’t take this long. What if something happened to you? He started fidgeting and looking at the door repeatedly. He calls your name, “Hey where'd you go?”or “everything alright” “nothing I was just- nevermind” He only relaxes when he sees you again, and there is this moment where you feel something like grief because you notice that things are different and he is suffering, and you feel a compassionate urge to alleviate that suffering for him. So you have a sad little smile that he doesn't notice when you tell him that you're right here.
Hovering
Pre hypoxia Wash was always subtle when wanting emotional intimacy and would usually find an excuse to just be near you. Before you got together he would clean his rifle just to be sitting with you even if he already did it that morning.
Post hypoxia Wash is much less subtle. You'll be sitting reading on the couch and he’ll look for random things to do near you. He’ll check if the bookshelf is level, pick up socks you left on the floor, and water the plants. After each task he’ll look around for something else nearby that he can do, and all throughout he’ll just keep looking over at you. If you make eye contact he'll blush and say he was wondering if you wanted tea. As he walks over to the kitchen he’ll forget why he's there. He kinda remembers it has something to do with getting you something. He sees the microwave. Your heat pad . He microwaves it and when he comes back he places it on your shoulders . You just smile and thank him, and he grabs a book, picks it up and sits by you. He pretends to read for a bit but keeps looking over at you longingly. When you finally notice you put your book to the side and pat the spot next you inviting him to come snuggle. He signs in relief and his shoulders relax and he sheepishly slides close to you content when pressed against you. If you don't make a big deal of it, you'll get him to put his head in your lap and hell let you run your fingers through his hair until he gets sleepyOther times you'll offer to read to him and he'll drift in and out of paying attention mostly content to hear your voice.
Disclaimer: Much of this is based on my experiences as someone with ADHD who has a neurodivergent partner who is “differently abled”. Please be mindful of this in any comments and let me know if I am reinforcing an ableist narrative.
i found this list and kinda fed into it each time i got the flu or a migraine, and u know what, it's just me revealing just how much i love the caring threads and the soft threads and the fondly exasperated "let me help you" threads! use at your pleasure, DO NOT ADD TO THE LIST NOR EDIT IT! i will be changing it accordingly!
" i found you passed out in the kitchen. you wanna stop working yourself so hard? or do i need to keep hitting the gym to carry you to bed every day? "
" you're burning up. "
" your neighbour called me and said you could use a nurse. looks like they were right, too. "
" you were told to take it easy, so... yeah. this is kinda on you. "
" you took a sick day. you NEVER take a sick day. so yeah, i got worried, and i figured i'd come over and keep an eye on you. "
" you texted me a long and incoherent text that held about 90% of the emoji list and about four different languages. figured it wouldn't hurt to drop by and see how you were doing. "
" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "
" you look like hell. "
" i brought you some soup; let me heat some up for you? "
" okay. it's time you went to the hospital. "
" hey… hello there, sleeping beauty. you gave me a bit of a scare yesterday. how are you feeling? "
" i swear, if you even think of getting out of that bed… "
" you know when i said to call if it's an emergency? a fever is most DEFINITELY considered an emergency! "
" if you think you're going to work like this, you better think again. "
" don't worry. my family swears by this remedy; just let it work its magic and you'll feel good as new in no time. "
" I don't care about getting sick. i'm not leaving you until you're back to full health. "
" you didn't stop to think that this might happen when you're burning the candle at both ends? "
" yeah, I can play the role of nurse AND say "I told you so" at the same time, actually. "
" you better drink every last drop of this tea, no matter how disgusting it is. "
" i told my boss it was an emergency so they've given me a full week to look after you. "
" quit being so stubborn and get into BED! "
" what part of doctor's orders hasn't sunk in yet? bed rest! for the WEEK! "
" right, where do you keep your saucepans? i'm going to make you my famous noodle soup. it's a cure-all, i'm telling you! "
" hey, unless you're going to the bathroom or the sofa, I don't want to see you out of that bed. got it? "
" when are you gonna start letting people look after you, huh? "
" i know, i know, i turned off all the lights once i figured you had the migraine. you want some tea? water? "
" don't be mad, but i saw your fridge, and... it frightened me. so i've taken you back to my place, and i'm gonna get deliveroo to bring some groceries to your place tomorrow. okay? "
" i know your appetite is a little off, so i ordered in a whole tonne of options. just try a little bit of something, please? for me? "
" i've brought half a pharmacy, enough movies and boardgames to last us a decade, and every single snack i could fit into the basket at the grocery store. so sit your butt down, eat your soup, and try and make the most of your bed rest for the next week, will you? "
ACTION PROMPTS ( SEND THE FULL LINE! and feel free to reverse if u wish! ):
[ TOUCH ]: sender gently rests a hand against the receiver's forehead to check their temperature.
[ DAMP ]: sender presses a cool cloth against the receiver's face, neck and forehead to try and lower their fever.
[ BLANKET ]: sender wraps another blanket around the receiver to try and stop them from shivering.
[ SPOON ]: sender gently coaxes spoons of soup into the receiver's mouth to build up their strength after an illness.
[ CARRY ]: sender, finding the receiver weakened/unconscious on the floor, immediately lifts them up and carries them back to bed.
[ AROUND ]: sender keeps a protective arm around the receiver to help them walk without the risk of stumbling or collapsing.
[ STAY ]: sender decides to stay by the receiver's bedside after learning that they're sick.
[ HAIR ]: sender smooths back the receiver's hair in a soothing gesture to try and help them go back to sleep.
[ TILT ]: sender tips a bottle of water up for the receiver to sip from.
[ HUM ]: sender hums/sings to soothe a sick receiver back to sleep.
[ BACK ]: sender gently rubs the receiver's back, either to soothe them or warm them while they're unwell.
[ SHARE ]: sender climbs into the receiver's sickbed with them, wrapping their arms around them to offer warmth and comfort.
[ SHOWER ]: sender, learning the receiver has a high fever, takes a cold shower with them in order to lower their temperature.
[ WAKEN ]: the receiver wakes up in bed, having been found unconscious by the sender and carried into the bed from the floor.
[ QUARANTINE ]: the sender and receiver, both being sick, decide to quarantine together and spend the recovery period with each other.
It was tough to pick from all you guys' amazing suggestions, but we managed to end up with a lovely list of prompts to work with, AND not a single repeat prompt from last year which we found quite important. Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.
FAQ and Rules
What sort of content can I create for this event?
You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.
Do I need to make 31 things to participate?
Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you. Your works can be separate onshots or one continuous fic.
How do I interpret these prompts?
Creativity is the name of the game here! If you don't understand a prompt, feel free to send us an ask about it. However, the important thing is you're free to interpret the prompts however you want. For example, 'heat' could be literal (fever, heatstroke, burn wounds) or figurative (somebody getting heat for something). The dialogue prompts are allowed to be slightly rewritten to fit better for the character whose mouth it's coming out of. As long as you're having fun!
What are these alts about?
If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice. This will count as having covered that day for completionists.
How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?
It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.
Want a bit of extra motivation? Check out our achievement list!
There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to. You can find it here.
That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!
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Plain text versions of the prompts:
October 1
Collapsed lung, Contusion, "Well, that shouldn't have happened."
"This is Nope. Nope is our guided safe entry tech and medic. Nope's middle name is Collateral Damage and you will need a leash if you bring her on missions with you. Moving on..."
