#whump wheel fics

[sholiofic]

agent carter + whipped?

"Oh, Jack," Peggy sighed, undoing the bindings holding him to the wall.

"Don't 'oh Jack' me, you make it sound like my fault."

But his voice cracked. He was stripped to the waist, his bare back bloody. Peggy tried to be careful, but he grunted in pain as she let his arms down, and swayed as he lost the support of the wall. Peggy matter-of-factly leaned into his side and put one of his arms over her shoulders, taking some of his weight. The height difference was awkward, and she started to put an arm around him and then jerked it back when he hissed in pain. He had to fist his hand in the shoulder of her jacket to keep himself upright.

"I knew you just wanted to get me naked," Jack said between his teeth.

"If that's how you're going to be, the next time I will leave you chained to the wall until the SSR gets here."

But she guided him carefully outside and helped him sit down, and very gently draped her jacket over his shoulders while they waited for the approaching sirens.

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

The wheel has willed it so

[doggonewhumper]

"Seriously, I'm Fine"

made using @whumpprentice 's sickfic wheel

Reyna knew she wasn't supposed to be here.

She was walking down the stairs to the dungeons, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chilly air. She knew a mage had been captured, and she wanted to see them. Why? She didn't know. She just felt some sort of... connection to the poor mage. She would never know what the feeling was unless she sought it out, so there she was, disobeying the biggest rule she was given - don't go into the dungeons. She knew that her brother was just trying to protect her; she was always sick and weak, and there were dangerous criminals held underneath the castle. Despite this, she still wandered the cell-lined halls, peaking into each one. She didn't know what she would do when she found the mage, but that didn't matter to her. Not yet.

"What's a little girl doing in a place like this?" one prisoner jeered. She made a face and ignored him. Yes, she was small, but she was no child!

She continued searching until she found a cell with an injured person. They were wrapped in bloody bandages, lying on the floor facing away from the door. They had long hair that was spread out on the floor. Somehow, she knew this was the mage.

"Hello? Um, hello?" Reyna whispered. The mage stirred, turning to face her. Their eyes widened when they saw her, but they didn't say anything.

"Hi! Um, are you... or rather, do you want something to eat?" she asked softly. The mage sat up slowly, wincing, and nodded, still not speaking. Reyna pulled an apple out of the pouch on her belt and held it out. Her slim wrist easily fit in between the bars of the cell. The mage crawled over hesitantly. "It's okay, I promise," she soothed. The mage reached out slowly. About an inch from the apple, their hand quickly latched on to her wrist, making her drop the apple. They pulled so that her body and head slammed into the bars. Her cry echoed against the stone walls of the dungeon.

"I'm not stupid. You won't poison me!" the mage yelled. They let go of her arm, and she cradled her wrist to her chest. They took the apple and threw it at her. It hit the cell bars, but she still flinched away as it hit close to her face.

"No, no! It's not poisoned!" Reyna cried out, teary-eyed. Before she could say more, footsteps and the clanking of armor echoed down the hall. Her brother, Roman, and a couple other guards ran up to her, weapons drawn.

"Reyna!" Roman called. He grabbed her and held her close, glaring at the mage.

"I'm fine!" Reyna said. She struggled against her brother as he held her head to his chest, trying to see the mage again. "Seriously, I'm fine!"

Roman didn't respond, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the dungeons. She struggled at first, but she quickly resigned herself to being carried, shaking like a leaf. The last thing she heard was a cell door opening, a snap, and a scream.

[astaldis]

Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Additional tags: Canon Divergence, Whump, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Mutual Pining, you'll have to go through me, minor Blood Origin spoilers, Sickfic, Captivity, creepy captor, Jaskier Whump, Yennefer of Vengerberg Whump, Caretaker Jaskier, Hurt Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt Jaskier, Yennefer Loves Jaskier, Jaskier Loves Yennefer, POV Jaskier, POV Yennefer, Protective Yennefer, Brave Jaskier, Friends to Lovers, Doctor Jaskier, Slow Burn, You look pale, Comfort Food, Bedside Vigils Summary: Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri learn that Jaskier has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that hint at a kidnapping. Yennefer leaves Geralt with Ciri and goes to save the bard. But not all goes as planned. The hero becomes the damsel in distress and Jaskier has to save the day. Post-season 2.

They stay for several more days. And, surprisingly enough, it does not become boring at all. Jaskier spoils Yennefer with more of his delicious rice pudding every morning, and, later in the day, with vegetable soups and fish stews, and once with an onion soup. She had to laugh so hard at the sight of the onion rings swimming in the soup, tears came to her eyes from the resulting pain in her side. No, laughing like this is not a good idea, not yet. So, Jaskier has not made his special onion soup again, although it is so good it is almost legendary, at least according to the bard. Considerate as he is, he also refrains from joking around too much, but resorts to telling Yennefer all kinds of adventure stories instead. Her favourite, of course, is the one of the Seven. She has never heard of it before, not even at Aretuza. Nobody ever mentioned how the Conjunction of the Spheres happened and she always assumed it was just bad luck on a cosmic scale, a totally fucked up fluke of fate. Instead this most decisive event for the continent and elvenkind appears to be intricately connected to the monoliths. And those, in turn, to Ciri. If the story is true - and Jaskier is convinced it is and that he did not dream it all up - this is a revelation. She will have to ponder on it - a lot. And do more research, yes, definitely, a lot more research. Speak to Geralt and Istredd, too. But not just yet. The mystery of the monoliths has waited for more than a thousand years. It can wait for another day or two. However, there is one more mystery waiting to be solved, one that is lying right next to her, longish brown hair falling into his cornflower blue eyes while he is holding her hand and talking a mile a minute about ... Darn, having been deeply absorbed in her own thoughts, she does not even know what he is talking about. Something about dandelions? Why is Jaskier talking about dandelions?

"Jaskier," she interrupts his flow of words, "Is it true? Are you a spy? For Redanian Intelligence? I simply refuse to believe this."

"I know," he rolls his eyes in his typical Jaskier way, obviously not offended by her sudden change of topic. "Sounds like the worst idea ever. I can hardly believe it myself. The things that happen to you ..." He shakes his head, an expression of bewilderment plastered on his face. "And no, Yen, I wasn't even drunk when I said yes."

"You were sober when you agreed to become a spy for Dijkstra? Have you totally lost your marbles? I know you are a bloody moron sometimes, but this? This is ridiculous! Fuck, Jask, why would you even do it?"

Continue reading on Ao3: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45159151/chapters/113896243

[transboysokka]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) Additional Tags: Avatar: The Legend of Korra References, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, this is basically just a fix it fic for divorced zukka, but also a fix it fic for what i put our guys through in the last fic, Spirit World (Avatar), could be considered major character death but just dont worry about it, like just dont think too hard about it and youll be fine. seriously dont worry about it Series: Part 2 of One Last Time Summary:

"This is the Spirit World. The best place in the universe for a do-over. Things didn't work out for us before, but here it's just us. No politics, no work, no families... just the two of us like we've always wanted.

We told each other in that cell that we'd never stopped loving each other. I just figured, if you wanted, we could... try again? But only if you want..."

--

After Korra stops the Red Lotus, Lord Zuko reflects on his long life, and decides to fix one of his greatest mistakes.

Something, something, laundry and taxes.

[baileyboo2016]

Gulliver torture is my specialty apparently

[satashiiwrites]

Promise Me You Won’t Let Me, Chapter X

Okay breaking this into two parts.  Rand is an angsty mess and there’s too many parts of the end of season one to stuff into one chapter. 

Title: Promise Me You Won’t Let Me, Chapter X (of XI damnit)

Fandom: Wheel of Time (mostly show, borrows from books when I feel like it)

Pairing: Cauthor (Mat Cauthon/Rand al’Thor), prior Rand al’Thor/Egwene al’Vere

Fic Summary:

Mat can feel that his time is limited but he’s got one thing he needs to do before he lets the darkness that is eating him bit by bit take him. Rand is desperate to help his best friend who is fading right before his eyes—he’s been cut off from everything else but he can’t lose Mat.

The wheel may weave as it wills and sometimes two threads become tangled and inseparable. Or maybe they were always meant to twine together to make a new pattern.

Chapter summary: Into the dark of the ways. 

Tags/warnings: angsty mess that’s going to end in tragedy. Yes there will be a sequel—I’m waiting to see where season 2 takes us because I will fix it so these two idiots end up together/get a happy ending so help me. 

Read X here on AO3

[moonshynecybin]

please just a window into your mind palace 🙏 how does vale react when marc gets kidnapped? how does he act and what lengths does he go to save him? what kind of measures does he take to make sure marc is never harmed?

it’s really more like. okay so i think the lever that drives the purpose of the story in all of the whump fic EYE read as a young teen was. hey what if this character gets KIDNAPPED and BEFORE they got kidnapped everyone was maybe perhaps taking advantage of them/under appreciating them/not realizing they were in pain (this attitude could be extrapolated from actual observed behavior in canon towards this character orrrr ENTIRELY INVENTED. doesn’t really matter. with marc it is. unfortunately very real in many ways from vale due to their biblical level estrangement) but NOW people get to freak out and realize how much they care about them and how much they love them and nurse them back to health while whiping blood off of their bruised, pretty face as the kidnapped character sort of gazes up at them in disbelief that a WORM like them could even be cared about enough to be gently touched. in many ways this is a fun scenario to think about with ROSQUEZ. because i think marc has internalized. okay vale doesn’t care about me. and i want him to be proven WRONG ! INCORRECT BUZZER ! and this is perhaps a batshit crazy enough lever to get vale a lil stressed. like it’s one thing to see marc vaulted through the air. they do that for work. AND vale doesn’t even like THAT. but. ransom ? kidnapping ? total marquez family media freeze out? not even a cryptic liar statement from honda to overanalyze or a shirtless selfie from a hospital bed to signal he’s alive ? homie is BUGGIN. he likes INFO he’s CURIOUS he knew every detail of marc deciding to ride on that arm in 2020 he pays ATTENTION. worry despite distance. and oh boy this is the supreme worry scenario.

so anyways the wheels are off we are doing old school fandom tropes because in real life i think vale like. just stays kind of quietly scared until he’s asked about it where he has to perform the most insane feat of mental gymnastics ever put to camera. but that’s not FUN !!! so marc gets kidnapped by uh. evildoers. not important. they only really beat him up in a hot way like on teen wolf. and vale finds out through a blurry picture of marc shirt kinda half unbuttoned and mouth duct taped and on the NEWS and he looks SCARED and TIRED and BRUISED and. not very much like himself. which is thing that puts a burning pit in vale’s stomach the MOST, and he’s pretending he doesn’t care he’s pretending it’s normal he’s pretending it’s about HIMSELF (what if someone was out there kidnapping generationally talented motorsports professionals uccio ?? he HAS to be checking the news obsessively for safety THANK YOU..) but he’s really so stressed. white knuckle grip on his composure. like vale is not sleeping not eating he’s refreshing the news story obsessively because he doesn’t KNOW anything which is the scariest part. he’s calling in every contact he can he’s traveling to spain he’s getting turned away at the marquez family door. he’s still DENYING THAT HES FREAKING OUT. and he’s MIA. uccio is like vale has also been kidnapped. vale is like shut up. please. i am fine.

now in no world do i think vale actually DOES anything effective to get marc back bc at the end of the day he’s just a noodle who can ride bikes good. sorry. leave that to spy aus and the like. but he TRIES and he FREAKS and when they get marc back (bruised and pale and thin. comes into the ER like. and when can i ride my bike again. fully in tears) he arranges everything so it goes as smoothly as possible and then he stays in the hospital lobby for a full two days bundled up on an incognito hoody like a weirdo. he’s just gotta see him

[mothervvoid]

Kakashi's Birthday Recs

since it's our beloved boy's birthday, I thought I'd take some time to rec a few of my favorite fics (and a few of my own)!

The Pack Survives by ihopethelightwillshineuponus

genfic | 97k / 25/25ch | Kakashi & Team 7-centric When a simple C-rank mission turns into a straight-up nightmare, the members of Team Seven narrowly escape with their lives. They end up stuck in the middle of nowhere, each of them injured and forced to rely on one another for help.

A++ whump & team bonding, it's great!

Like You'd Get Your Knuckles Bloody For Me by mabledonut

genfic | 37k / 10/10ch | Kakashi & Team 7-centric Kakashi was in hell, or something close to it. a.k.a. Genin Team 7 goes bananas after their sensei gets kidnapped and tortured.

another A++ whump fic, with some really great team bonding moments. kakashi defies hiruzen's decree a little and spills a bit of knowledge about naruto's dad + team ten cameo & mednin!shikamaru!

The Last Time I'll Abandon You by mabledonut

genfic | 300k+ / 78/120ch | Team Minato-centric | Ongoing “Hatake Kakashi, isn’t it…?” Kakuzu asked as he emerged from underground, as the black strings or wires or whatever they were retracted back into his body, catching Kakashi from behind along the way, tugging him down, once again laying him prone on the hard rocks and roots of the forest floor. “It’s been some time, but yes, I do remember you…” Shit, we are in a bad way, Kakashi thought to himself as he struggled to get up. Who’s gonna…

an absolutely SAGA of a story, a must-read. though it's a genfic it DOES have some background ships like asukure, and features TEENIE TINNYYY allusions to ships like kakarin, obikaka and obirin. some top-tier whump, nauseating, will have you reading through your fingers at times, i honestly cannot recommend this fic enough!

Uneasy Lies the Head by Hiiraeth

genfic | 130k / 27/27ch | Kakashi & Team 7-centric “Shikamaru,” He began, trying to stay calm. “I’d like for you to get Sakura." Kakashi swallowed thickly and swayed on his feet. "Because I think I've just been poisoned."

POISON FIC!! kakashi has been poisoned! will he and co figure out a cure IN TIME? take a look and FIND OUT!! stunning whump, wonderful team dynamics. this was one of the first fics i ever read in the naruto fandom and it did NOT disappoint!

Just Leave Me in Two Pieces by @perpetuallyuneloquent

genfic | 12.5k / 3/?ch | Kakashi & Team Minato-centric | Ongoing Kakashi kept his eyes closed as the world came into focus around him. The stale air smelled vaguely like old sake and burning kerosene, the ground beneath him gritty and cold. His mind was too sluggish for him to process more, however. I just want to go back to sleep, honestly. Well, that was concerning. Usually, he couldn’t sleep. …Where am I?

exciting and deliciously upsetting fic as team minato goes through the recycling wheel of miscommunication. featuring some grade A whump and a side of people not saying what they should when they need to, and a very interesting original villain!

And Of Course, I'm throwing a couple of my own fics:

red clouds, white wings, silver hair, dogteeth by Mothervvoid

Kakashi/Konan | 2.8k / 1/1ch | Kakashi & Konan-centric When she goes to him she must shed her red clouds and become something else. White wings, dark clothes; bright like an angel as she was when she first made her descent into the ravine where she found him. She could have left him of course, leaf seal on his headband and red spiral flak jacket. This man is her enemy.

in this fic i dare to ask the question: how would this ship work? feat some kakashi whump!

Pebble Brain by Mothervvoid

Kakashi/Obito | 20.7k / 6/6ch | Kakashi & Obito-centric Communication is king.

my obikaka magnum opus.

[sholiofic]

Ahh I'm so excited that you posted the whump wheel. Hopefully mine sparks cause I love your Agent Carter stuff so much.

I got barely concious. And of course I'd love some agent carter

Thank you! <3

---

"He's in and out," the SSR agent on guard duty at the door of Jack's hospital room told Peggy, when she arrived to relieve him. "Hasn't said anything helpful about who shot him. Not really all there, you know?"

"It's all right, Halford. Thank you."

Between the two of them, she and Daniel had come up with a handful of trustworthy men who they could be reasonably confident weren't involved in Vernon's conspiracy or the hit on Jack. Peggy trusted in Daniel's knowledge of his people, but for the most part she didn't know them, and she felt her shoulders relax a little as Halford left and she let herself into Jack's room.

The room was dim. Peggy turned on a reading lamp and settled herself beside the bed. Daniel was getting some sleep; he'd said he would relieve her at midnight. The trick was going to be to keep herself awake until then.

She had brought some light reading with her: case files and maps of the hotel. As she studied them, she had to fight not to drift.

A soft moan from beside her snapped her out of what she realized was a light dose. 

"Jack?"

She leaned over him as his eyelids fluttered. He had come close to waking before, but this time his eyes half opened and fastened on her. His lips moved a little. "Peggy," he whispered.

A rush of relief went through her, staggering in its intensity. It was one thing for the doctors to say he would probably wake up, that there was likely no brain damage from blood loss. But seeing the evidence for herself made it abruptly real and left her feeling off balance, as if she had been leaning into a high wind that had suddenly faded.

"Yes. It's me. Do you want a drink of water?"

Jack still seemed dazed, but he nodded a little. She propped up his head with her hand and helped him sip from the glass on the nightstand. As she let his head back down, he murmured, "Now I know I'm dead. Carter's hand-feedin' me."

"There is to be no hand-feeding around here, thank you," Peggy said tartly, shoring herself up with the usual irritation that Jack provoked in her. "You'll be perfectly capable of managing your own feeding in a day or two."

"Okay, that sounds more like you," Jack mumbled.

He was out again a minute later, but this time she felt much more confident that he would wake again. She settled back to her paperwork with a renewed energy.

[caranfindel]

Walker fic: Die young, stay pretty

When I saw episode 1.17 of Walker, “Dig,” I knew I needed a version with more whump. So here it is.

~~~

Emily was right, as usual.

“I wouldn’t ever dig my own grave.” Cordell had said that once, years ago. They were watching some forgettable movie (was it about cowboys? or maybe gangsters?) with a man being forced to dig a shallow grave at gunpoint. “If I’m gonna get shot anyway, why would I go through all that first? I’d just say no and let them shoot me then and there. Let the goons dig the hole.”

“But what if you wanted to use that time to think?” Emily had said. “To come up with a plan? Or to give someone else time to come rescue you?”

He’d laughed and pulled her closer. ”I’m the cavalry, sweetheart. No one’s gonna rescue me. I do the rescuing. Nah, I’d just call his bluff and say go ahead and shoot me, you dumbass goon. And keep in mind, you’re gonna have to dig a hell of a big hole if you wanna hide all this.”

But she had been right, as she always was. Because now he’s being held at gunpoint by a couple of - a couple of goons, the only word for them is goons - and he’s digging a hole that is surely meant to be his grave. And he’s watching and waiting for his opening. After all, he was right about one thing: no one’s going to rescue him.

Goon #1 is closer. Goon #2 is distracted, watching for someone, rifle slung over his shoulder, but Goon #1 is focused. Cordell’s knee buckles and he pauses for a moment to lean the shovel against the edge of the pit, to sweep the sweat out of his eyes and breathe for a little bit. Partly to stall for time but mostly because he’s fucking exhausted and everything hurts. After the truck rollover, the forced hike to this clearing, and digging the pit at gunpoint, he feels like someone spent an hour beating the crap out of him.

Goon #1 narrows his eyes at him, then leans over and rests the barrel of his gun against Cordell’s temple. The metal is cold, even in the stifling Austin heat, and Cordell can feel his pulse pounding against it. He holds his hands up in surrender and picks up the shovel again.

When the person Goon #2 is watching for does show up, Cordell isn’t surprised that it’s Stan. Half of him has been hoping Mendoza was mistaken, or lying. That it was all a misunderstanding that could be explained away as easily as Geri’s connection to the money was explained away. But the other half of him recognized immediately that Mendoza was telling the truth. And that half is ready to finally get revenge, to finally look into the eyes of the person responsible for Emily’s death as he wraps his hands around their throat.

The biggest surprise, though, is when Stan drags a body out of his truck. Any remaining hope Cordell has about his old friend being innocent vanishes completely. He continues pushing the shovel into the ground, one eye trained on Goon #1.

Stan doesn’t speak to him. Doesn’t even look at him, really, and that’s a bad goddamn sign. Because if you’re going to kill a longtime family friend, murder him in cold blood and leave him in a shallow grave, it’s going to be hard to look him in the eye. Instead, Stan starts yelling at Goon #2 about plans gone wrong and needing time to think.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cordell watches Goon #1’s revolver dip lower as he’s distracted by the argument. When Goon #2 angrily shoves his rifle at Stan, Cordell makes his move. He swings the shovel into Goon #1’s solar plexus, knocking him into the pit. He grabs the guy’s gun with one hand and his neck with the other, pulls him in close, and pushes the barrel into his chest. One shot and Goon #1 is down.

He wheels toward Stan and Goon #2. The goon is running toward him, so Cordell takes him out with a shot to the core. Then his right arm explodes in a white hot flash of pain and the gun drops from his numb fingers. Stan is looking down at him from the edge of the pit, rifle trained on him.

“Sorry, son. I’m gonna need you to put your hands behind your head.”

“I’m kinda defenseless here, Stan.” Cordell’s right arm hangs limp and useless at his side. Blood runs down his fingertips, pattering onto the broken earth. He nods toward the body lying next to Stan’s truck. “What about that guy? Was he defenseless too? When you killed him?”

“That was an accident.”

“And Emily? Was she an accident?”

Stan sighs. "I didn't want anything to happen to Emily. You have to know that, Cordell. I never would have hurt her if I had a choice, not for the world. But there was nothing I could do. She saw something they didn’t want anyone to see, and that was that. If I had tried to save her, they would have killed me and her. I couldn’t save her.”

“Sure,” Cordell says. He somehow manages to sound calm, even though everything inside of him is screaming. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Stan is still pointing the rifle at his chest. So this is it, then. Stan killed Emily and he’s about to kill Cordell and no one’s ever going to know. He wishes he’d told someone about his suspicions before he went running off on his own. He wishes he’d had a chance to hug his kids one more time, to say goodbye to his parents and his brother. He wishes a lot of things.

“I’m sorry it has to end like this,” Stan says. “I hate to do this. I really do.”

“Well, I’m sure it gets easier every time,” Cordell snaps. Time stretches out. He hears his own labored breathing, and the gentle drip of his blood hitting the dirt. He can almost hear his own heartbeat.

Then Stan’s mouth twitches into something that’s part smile, part grimace. “No,” he says quietly, “I don't believe it does.”

(I’m sorry, Em. I tried.)

There’s another bright burst of pain, and a thump in his chest like he’s been kicked by a horse. Cordell slumps against the side of the pit and then slips down into darkness.

~~~

“Hey, cowboy.”

They’re lying in a big bed. Not their bed, not their house. There are wooden beams running overhead and gauzy white curtains covering a glass door that opens onto a balcony. He can hear sounds from outside, music and happy voices floating up into their room. Emily’s head is on his shoulder, he’s running his fingers through her hair, and they’re barely paying attention to the television. There’s a movie on, gangsters or cowboys or something.

“You remember this place?” she asks.

He does. “That hotel in San Antonio, on the riverwalk. We came here for our anniversary. This is where we saw the movie, the one where the guy was digging his own grave, and I said I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did. And it didn’t matter. I didn’t come up with a plan and nobody rescued me.” He puts a finger on her chin and tilts her head up for a kiss. “It’s okay, though. At least I get to be here with you.”

Emily looks at him with sad dark eyes and doesn’t say anything.

~~~

Liam Walker spends his entire life watching his brother defy death. Cordell is always climbing things he shouldn't climb, taunting animals he shouldn't taunt, swimming in the pond on the south forty acres even though Daddy had warned them about snakes, inventing insane games with Hoyt Rawlins like truck surfing and rake jousting and chicken played against an angry bull. Die young, stay pretty, he always says. And if you survive, chicks dig scars, Hoyt always responds. Cordi considers himself invincible, and every day Liam fears he’ll be proven wrong.

But it isn't until Liam is ten years old that he starts seriously expecting his brother to die. Cordell gets arrested for something stupid, some ridiculous prank that involves breaking and entering and a fire and God knows what else, and their father lets him stew in the county jail overnight before bailing him out. The next day, Daddy is furious. Mama is horrified. And Liam stands in the hallway, listening unnoticed as they both light into his brother. “You're a goddamned idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed!” Cordell stands there and takes it, head bowed, but when he heads back to his room he winks at Liam and says "Die young, stay pretty, right?"

It doesn’t stop when Cordell graduates from high school; the stakes just get higher. Liam spends years waiting for his brother to return from Afghanistan in a flag-draped box. And then the undercover shitshow that almost feels like a passive suicide attempt, like some kind of subconscious mission to follow Emily into the dark. And the silent months at the end of it waiting for the phone call saying he'd done it; he'd died young.

All of this is to say that when Micki calls and says Cordell's truck has been found, wrecked and empty, Liam's second thought is he obviously got out, so he's just walking around somewhere in a daze; we'll find him and he'll be fine. But his first thought is maybe this is the day; maybe he finally did it.

Micki tells them all to stay home and let the proper authorities take care of it. Liam and his father ignore her. Abilene says she’ll stay at the house with Stella and Augie. "Someone needs to be here in case he comes home," she tells them. "You know how your daddy is. He'll get a ride from a friend and come strolling up here asking what's for dinner." And she might even believe it. But Liam can see on Stella’s face that her thoughts mirror his own. No, that's not how he is. How he is, is that he goes out and does something reckless, something crazy, something dangerous, and disappears, and you just sit and wait for someone to come tell you he's dead.

“He’s fine,” Liam tells her. He puts on his best everything will be okay expression, the one he wore for the kids so frequently when Cordell was gone. “We’ll find him. He’s fine.”

He almost believes it himself.

~~~

When Liam and Bonham pull up at the scene of the wreck, Micki greets them with an eyeroll. "Someday, one of the Walker boys is gonna do what I tell him to do."

"Maybe someday," says Bonham. "But not today."

The truck is a mess. Liam can’t imagine Cordell calmly getting out and walking away. "His phone's buried in here somewhere," Micki says. "I can hear it ringing when I call him. Things go flying around in a rollover. So it's possible he couldn't find it and he just started walking."

"But you don't think that's what happened," says Liam.

She pauses, as if considering how much to tell him. “Well, there’s this.” Micki motions them over to the driver's side and points to a scrape of grey paint. "Has he been in a wreck lately? Because this looks like he was hit by another car."

Bonham clenches his fists. "This is new. Someone did this? You think someone ran him off the road on purpose?"

"We don't know," Micki says. "It's entirely possible that it was an accident, and the other driver gave him a ride, maybe took him to the hospital. But no one has heard from him and he hasn't shown up in any local hospitals or walk-in clinics yet, so I think we're going to assume that isn't what happened. If it turns out I'm wrong, we'll just be pleasantly surprised. Right now we're calling in a search team and setting up a grid." She keeps talking, something about APBs and grey vehicles with red paint, but Liam is distracted by something on the ground. A long line scratched through the grass, as if gouged into the dirt by someone’s boot heel. It points away from the wreck, off into a line of trees about a hundred yards away.

"He went this way!"

Bonham and Micki turn to him, confused.

"Here, look. He used to do this when we'd play hide and seek, when I was little. He always left me a clue.” It took a long time for Liam to realize his big brother was doing it on purpose. For years, he just took pride in his observation skills. “He made this same mark for me. He pointed me in the right direction."

“All right then,” Bonham says. “We go that way.”

Micki puts a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. We’ll have a search team here in just a minute. We should…” She trails off, looking toward the trees. “No. Let’s go find him.”

~~~

They keep their eyes on the ground as they walk, looking for more lines scraped into the dirt. After five minutes or so, Liam is afraid it wasn’t an intentional signal after all, but Bonham spots the next one. Cordell is out here somewhere. Out here and signaling for help.

Micki stops to answer a radio call from the search team when they arrive on the scene, and Bonham slows down after several minutes of walking, so Liam is the one who crests a ridge first and sees it. A clearing. And in that clearing, a large mound of dirt that looks too much like a grave. He yells something. Later he won’t remember what it was, Cordell or Daddy or fuck, or something else. All he remembers later is that he’s screaming when he runs, is still screaming when he falls to his knees at the edge of the pile of dirt, when he sees the hand.

It isn’t Cordi’s hand. The fingers are too short and the hair on the back is too heavy, too dark. But it’s a man’s hand sticking out of this makeshift grave. Liam grabs it and pulls, but the rest of the man doesn’t budge. He starts frantically scooping away the loose dirt with his hands, revealing an arm and then a chest. Then he feels someone hit the ground next to him.

His father’s voice. “Oh God. That’s not -“

“No! Help me dig!”

In a moment Micki is there on her radio, giving coordinates and talking about shovels and an ambulance. Liam and Bonham manage to uncover the man’s upper body. His face has the grey cast of someone who’s been dead a few hours. Liam has no idea who he is, and honestly doesn’t care, because it’s not Cordell. He leans over to grab one arm and Bonham grabs the other. They’re finally able to pull the dead man out of the dirt, and Liam hears his father’s quick intake of breath as they see what was underneath the body. Who was underneath the body.

Cordell is leaning against the side of the pit as if he’d been seated and then slumped over in sleep. The body on top of him apparently shielded him from much of the dirt. He’s covered in dirt and what looks like blood, but the soil that was shoveled into this godforsaken hole didn’t cover his face. There was air there, at least for a while, if he was alive to breathe it.

They dump the dead man unceremoniously at the edge of the pit. Liam jumps into the hole and kneels next to his brother, putting his fingers against his throat. The man they just pulled out was cold, but Cordell’s skin is still warm. And there, against his fingertips - a flutter of movement. And then another, and another.

“He’s alive!” he yells. “Daddy, he’s still alive!”

Bonham had been moving slow and stiff, but he jumps into the pit with the agility of a decades-younger man. Together they frantically shove dirt away from Cordell. Micki’s there now, warning them to be careful, to wait for EMS, but Liam and his father know one thing - they’re getting Cordell out of this goddamn hole. Once they’ve cleared enough of the dirt away, Bonham grabs his legs and Liam bends Cordi’s torso forward so he can slide behind him. He grabs his arms and tries to get into position to lift his brother out of the pit. But when he lifts, Cordell wakes with a gasp of pain.

Liam eases him back as gently as he can, kneeling next to him. “Cordi,” he says. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Cordell’s eyes flicker open for a moment. “Liam?” His voice is faint and hoarse.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.” Which is a lie. Cordell is not okay. He’s not as grey as the body they pulled off of him, but his face is pale and his lips are faintly blue.

“Micki!” Bonham yells. “Where’s the ambulance?”

Micki doesn’t answer, but Liam looks up to see her several yards away, at the top of the ridge, facing away from them. She’s waving her arms to catch the ambulance driver’s attention. It must be close (please, God, let it be close).

Liam turns back to his brother. “Tell me what happened. Where are you hurt? Who did this?”

Cordell coughs wetly. “Stan. It was Stan Morrison.”

”Stan Morrison? What the - why? Why would he do this to you?”

Cordell opens his eyes and grasps at Liam. “He killed Emily. Tell Cap…” He stops and tries to take a deep breath. It triggers another wet cough. “Make sure James knows. He confessed. Stan killed Emily.”

Liam looks up and meets his father’s eyes to make sure they heard the same thing. Because that can’t be true. It can’t possibly be true.

“If I don’t make it…” Cordell coughs again. Blood splatters onto his lips, and bloody foam trickles from the side of his mouth. “Tell him. Tell him to talk to Mendoza. She was a witness, so Stan killed her. Promise, Liam. Make him talk to Mendoza.”

“Shut up. You can tell him yourself.” But Cordell’s eyes close and he goes silent.

The EMTs arrive and Micki pulls him away from his brother. “Let them do their job. He’ll be okay.” And then more officers are there and there are phone calls to be made and a statement to be taken (what do you need? I dug my not-quite-dead brother out of a grave and he says a family friend did it and also murdered his wife, for fuck’s sake, that’s all I know) and suddenly Liam looks up and sees the ambulance bouncing back toward the road. Bonham watches with him as it moves over the ridge and out of their sight, then slumps against a squad car. He looks pale and wiped out.

“Micki?” Liam says. “You think someone could give my dad a ride back to his truck?”

“I don’t need a ride!” Bonham snaps. “I’m fine.”

But Micki sees it too. “Mr. Walker,” she says, “They’re taking Cordell to Dell Seton hospital. I’m sure you want to get back to your family as soon as possible and get everyone over there. Let one of the guys here give you a head start by driving you to your truck.”

He acquiesces. “Yeah, yeah, okay. You coming?”

“I, ah.” Liam turns to Micki. “I’ll meet you there, if Micki doesn't mind giving me a ride. I need to call Larry James.” And this is true, but it’s equally true that he needs to drop the everything will be okay expression for just a bit.

~~~

By the time they all get to the hospital, Cordell is already in surgery. He's fine, the surgeon tells them afterward. He’s going to be fine. He had a couple of bullet wounds, a punctured lung, broken ribs, damage to his shoulder that shouldn't be permanent. Lost a lot of blood. But he’s going to be fine.

This time, anyway.

~~~

Only two visitors at a time are allowed into Cordell's room, so Stella and Augie go in first. Liam paces. Bonham retreats to the end of the hall to make a call. Abilene sits alone on the ugly burnt-orange vinyl bench. She's the toughest woman Liam knows, but right now she looks like a broken baby bird. She digs in her purse for a tissue, and Liam realizes tears are streaming down her cheeks. He sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulder. “Mama, he's gonna be fine. There's no reason to cry.”

“Oh, Liam,” she sighs. Her voice is shaky. “I just don’t know why this family has to go through so much. After Emily, and you, and Cordi and Hoyt. I don’t like my babies being hurt. I can’t stand it.”

Liam resists the impulse to reach up and touch the scar where Stella cauterized his gunshot wound. “Well, maybe this is it. Maybe we’ve used up all our bad luck, and there’s nothing but good times ahead.”

Abilene laughs a shaky little laugh. “Maybe so. It would only be fair.” She wipes her eyes and puts on her own everything is okay face as Stella and Augie step out of the room.

Daddy must have been watching, because he ends his call quickly and takes Mama's hand to escort her into Cordell's room. Liam puts his arms up and the kids snuggle next to him, one under each arm, like they used to do when they were worried about their dad. When Liam was pretending not to be worried about him too.

"The guy who shot him is still out there," Stella says, and Liam suddenly realizes he doesn't know what they've been told, if they know an old family friend murdered their mother and then tried to kill their father. No one talked about Stan in the waiting room, and these kids are used to their father being a target. It's so fucking unfair. They shouldn't all have to spend their lives waiting for something horrible to happen.

"It's okay," he says. "I'm going to stay here tonight to keep guard. No one's going to hurt him."

~~~

Mama and Daddy take the kids home, and Liam finally opens the door to Cordell's room. It's dim - all the lights are off except a light over the sink - but he can see his brother well enough. The blood and dirt have been washed off, revealing cuts and bruises to his face. His chest and right arm are heavily bandaged, with a wound drain snaking out from his bandaged chest. An oxygen canula is taped under his nose.

"Hey, Stinker," Cordell says. "You all right?"

"Am I all right? Jesus, Cordi." Liam sits in the small side chair and angles it so he can see his brother's face. "How do you feel?"

Cordell tries to speak again, but falls into a coughing fit. Liam grabs the plastic water mug on the bedside table and holds the straw up to his lips. Cordell presses one hand against his chest incision and takes a small sip of water. "You talked to Larry James?" he says.

"I did. But I didn't know much. He said he'd send someone to talk to Mendoza, and he'll be up in the morning to get your statement. What the hell, Cordell? You said she was a witness?"

"Yeah. Stan was involved in some shit. Emily saw it." He closes his eyes and sighs. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. I'm kinda..."

"Yeah, no, sure. I'll hear it in the morning anyway. I'm going to stay here tonight."

"What do you mean, stay here? Go on home, man. You look like crap."

"Yeah, I don't think so. There's a man out there who wants to kill you. Think I'll hang around and make sure he doesn't."

"For fuck's sake, Liam. There's no reason to think he's going to come up here and finish me off."

Liam stands. His pulse pounds hot against his branded scar. "And yesterday there was no reason to think he was going to shoot you and bury you in a mass grave. But he did it, Cordell. And I'm not giving him the opportunity to do it again!"

"Liam -"

"No." Too loud, he's in a hospital and he's too damn loud. "Could you, just once in your life," he hisses, "stop trying to die?"

Cordell blinks in shock. "Okay," he says softly. "Okay. Stay here, if it makes you feel better."

"It does." Liam sits again, a little embarrassed, a lot relieved."You know, you can give up on that whole die young, stay pretty plan,” he says. “It's too late. You're old."

Something painful flickers across Cordell's face, and Liam immediately regrets whatever memory he unintentionally dredged up. Emily, Hoyt, their whole lives ahead of them. But then his brother smiles a faded ghost of a smile. "Maybe so," Cordell says. "But I'm still pretty."

Liam pats his ankle. "Yeah, I guess. For such an old guy."

(Maybe, just maybe, he’ll actually get old. Maybe Liam can make that happen.)

~~~

Please note that, though I’m posting this after s4, I actually wrote the vast majority of it during s1. In other words, I buried him first.

[zarvasace]

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing/art that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Ahhhh okay, thank you!! 💜🌻 I finally have a free moment (aka work is slow) so I'm going to work on drafting this out :) I have far too much art I'm proud of—I'm at a stage in my progress right now where I think my art looks pretty awesome. So this list will be stuff from my Greatest Hits collection on AO3. In order of oldest to newest, I think:

incandescently happy

An LU post-adventure work, one of the first longer fics I posted. I released one chapter a day over the summer of 2022, so a lot of the notes have something about my day in them. It's about 30k all told.

I absolutely adored expanding on what the boys might do after the whole LU adventure happens (though I did forget about the fact that I think Time and Malon have a kid during this time!) This work features some proto-Shatterproof stuff, like Wind having a prosthetic leg and Four starting to specialize in crafting prosthetics/disability aids. I gave Hyrule longer hair and a job making maps for the royal family. Legend got another adventure but also started a magic garden/orchard, which pulls in more business than Ravio's stuff. Four and his grandpa adopted a single mother and her two kids. Man I went off with some of these headcanons. I've always considered writing more in this world, but I think it stands very well on its own. Maybe someday I might revisit and rewrite it with some of my new skills. :)

Rise and Shine and Fall

Whumptober 2022, focused entirely on LU! Guys this thing is almost 78k. I realize now that most people pre-plan or pre-write for things like Whumptober, but I wrote these one by one every day, which was extra-hard because I had both college classes and a day job at the time. I came up with some fun AUs, learned a lot about writing (especially whump), and proved to myself that I can do hard things like this!! I've adored doing daily challenges since, though I haven't done it in a while. I look forward to this year's whumptober though!

I really like the table of contents in the first chapter—it makes things easy to find. I know individual works are probably more accessible, but I was still getting to know AO3, and those big numbers are fun. XD I have a hard time picking favorites, because I really went off on these, but I'd say a couple of them are:

Chp 3, "Right Here" about Sky

Chp 7, "Proof of Life" about Four and Shadow

Chp 18, "I'm onwy a babey :(" about Wind

Chp 21, "6:13" about Hyrule and Time

Chp 26, "Silence is Golden" about Wild

Chp 31-32, "The Worst Thing About Earth" about Legend, but kind of more specifically the rewrite/expansion I did last year... haha...

The Marvelous Misadventures of Wind and His Merry Band or Maybe-Human Heroes

It's been a while since I updated this story (56k, 6/8 chapters), but it's constantly on my mind. I've started chapter 7 twice, and I know what I want to happen, but I am easily distracted by the siren call of some other whump fics. XD

I freaking love this story, though. I really want to finish it. It's kind of an... experiment? I guess? I want to get published someday, and I picture myself writing middle-grade novels. This story is sort of my attempt to hit that tone. Also I just love Wind so so so much. Let him be cool!!

Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School

56k Four Swords completed story! I wrote this in a frenzy of like two or three weeks, then took another two to edit. It takes plot points from a vampire novel I enjoyed and twists and applies them to a story about Shadow and the Four Swords manga boys. I'm very proud of what I accomplished here, and that it's a complete story! I think it worked out really well. I learned a lot about plotting and handling larger stories, and it helped that I had the half-remembered structure of an existing novel to use as training wheels.

I love the worldbuilding in this story! The premise is that Shadow is an evil soulless vampire from a (rather abusive, not that he sees it) family of the same, but then he gets the ability to walk in the sunshine. He's assigned to go to high school for a while to get a feast for the vampire gala, but meanwhile he's developing a conscience and getting very attached to these human boys. I think I did a good job. I love rereading this, every scene is just so fun! :)

Counterbalance

55k exactly of a stupid LU darks AU. This started life as a series of oneshots and then the plot progressively got more and more convoluted and I love these stupid boys so much. The plot is very much not tight, in contrast to Blood-Sucker's Guide, but I learned a lot about how I write and how I like to plan with this one, too.

The characters are stupid and the plot is just kinda silly and there is both a bathhouse scene AND a spa scene. Legend blows up multiple things, my lovely nasty little Dark Links need smacks and therapy, and Prince has a legitimately emotional moment at the end. I love how it turned out, it's like an ugly little stuffed animal I made and hug until the eyes pop out.

That's five but I would be extremely remiss if I did not also mention something from Shatterproof:

The Incredible Shrinking Chain

About 10k, this is entry 31/68 in my series Shatterproof, which is a close-canon AU in which each of the boys has a different physical disability. This series also plays into my publishing ambitions, because whatever I publish will very likely have some disability representation. I'm rather passionate about it, actually! Shatterproof is close to my heart, and I'm so honored that so many people seem to love it too. :) I need to work on the next entry again!!

This entry in particular is so much fun. In it, the whole Chain sans Four is stuck mouse-sized, and Four has to travel out to Twilight's castle with them to get Dusk to help break the curse. They all have to figure out how to navigate while tiny, and Four pulls some very silly stunts. I love them.

Anyway, there's my list!! I've written a lot over the last like two and a half years, and I'm so so glad that I get to be here and part of this community. The LU fandom as a whole (or at least the parts I've seen!) is so welcoming and positive and I try to give back where I can! I'm going to suggest looking through my bookmarks and ultimate rec list collection to find some new favorites from some very talented authors! :) (oof I need to update the collection soon!! I've been seeing some awesome stuff!)

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Posting one of my actual (fandom-related) full fics on here... be nice!!

This is some good ol' intubation whump because it's my favourite.

(for slight context of character, see this old post)

When the call comes in, everybody in the ER is hoping it isn't Coop. Especially Neela.

Severe asthma attack. 26 year old male.

Somehow, because it's his day off and he really ought to be relaxing, it seems almost impossible for him to find himself back in the hospital as a patient. It just… isn't fair.

That doesn't stop the wheels of the gurney from rolling through the doors, though. Doesn't change the fact that Coop is laying half-conscious on top of it, his quick, shallow breaths fogging a nebulizer mask, his skin so pale it looks ashen.

“26 year old male,” the paramedic conducting the transfer restates. “Severe asthma attack with symptoms pointing to onset of status asthmaticus. Albuterol administered, as well as 0.5mg subcutaneous epinephrine, both to minimal effect.”

Dr Lewis, the attending on the case, moves to Coop’s side, slipping the chest piece of her stethoscope underneath his t-shirt as they continue to move into one of the trauma rooms. Her expression, when she withdraws it, is severe.

“His airways are pretty much closed up. He needs more epi now.”

Abby hurries to drag a crash cart in, and Neela follows the gurney all the way until it's positioned in the trauma room, at which point she starts readying an IV kit with shaking hands.

Coop does not look good. Even when compared to the time she almost killed him with epi. At least then he'd been alert, sitting up, and his skin hadn't lost all of its colour like it has now.

Dr Lewis returns from fetching some more equipment, and as she waits for Abby to arrive with the crash cart, she strokes Coop’s hair reassuringly.

“Hang on, sweetheart, we’re going to help you feel better. Just keep breathing for me, okay?”

Through weak wheezes that emerge from blue-tinged lips, Coop nods. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.

Neela hasn't seen an asthma attack this severe in person before, but she knows from med school how dangerous they can be- especially when the patient is as tired as Coop is. It isn't clear how long he's been struggling this much to breathe. The colour of his skin (or lack of, for that matter) tells her it's been too long.

If they don't work quickly, his body will run out of energy. He'll stop breathing, too exhausted to even inhale anymore. He'll lose oxygen.

He'll die.

“Neela, I need an IV of 100mg hydrocortisone.”

She turns to find Dr Lewis’ keen gaze on her. There's a thinly veiled panic in the attending’s eyes that quickly disappears as she turns back to Coop, gently trying to reassure him as he fights for air.

“I’m going to page Pratt as well, alright, Coop? He can get you some more albuterol so your nebulizer doesn't dry out.”

Neela can't see whether Coop replies, but if he does, it isn't audible. All she can hear is his terrifying wheeze and the hum of the nebulizer, shortly joined by a rapid beeping as a nurse finally helps him take off his shirt and hooks him up to a monitor. She doesn't dare turn around to look at his oxygen saturation. It's likely going to keep plummeting.

Instead, she focuses on setting up the cannula in Coop’s trembling arm, her left hand holding it steady while her right slides the needle in.

“There we are, Coop.” she murmurs. “You're doing so well, sweetheart.”

The pet name feels stranger coming from her lips than Dr Lewis', but at this point her slight blush is the least of their worries. While Coop’s this sick, it doesn't matter what she calls him. He just needs to start breathing properly again.

Once the IV site has been secured with a clear sticker, Neela measures out the dose of hydrocortisone. 100mg. When they're giving it as a steroid over a longer period of time, they prescribe 20-30mg a day, in two doses. The fact that they're pumping him full of this much at once is testament to just how emergent his case is.

“100mg hydrocortisone going in.” she announces. Connects the needle to the cannula. Pushes down on the plunger of the syringe.

Despite her accumulated knowledge surrounding medication, Neela still half expects the effects to be immediate. For Coop to suddenly relax, his airway opening up again, the colour gradually suffusing his cheeks. For the wheezing to fade as he breathes in properly for the first time in hours.

It doesn't. None of this happens.

Minute by minute, Coop continues to deteriorate. Abby brings in the crash cart. Dr Lewis injects the epinephrine beneath the skin of his forearm and, unlike before, he doesn't even react to the needle. His eyes flicker like his awareness is slipping away from him.

By the time Pratt arrives to switch out Coop’s nebulizer, such a small intervention becomes pointless. Even if Coop were able to breathe properly, time has proven that albuterol, on this occasion, just isn't working. Pratt sets down the new nebulizer and instantly crosses to Coop’s bedside, brow furrowed.

“Coop, man, can I listen to your chest?”

A barely perceptible nod.

When Pratt presses the cold stethoscope against Coop’s heaving chest, it seems more of a confirmatory action than one that's actually necessary. He sighs, shaking his head. Coop, as evidenced by the blue tinge to his lips, his rolling eyes, the pallor of his skin, is officially status asthmaticus.

He's in respiratory failure.

Things suddenly grow a lot more urgent. Pratt gives Lewis a gesture that she reciprocates, and a nurse pulls the crash cart closer to the bed. Neela’s heart sinks just as Abby sinks into position right at Coop’s bedside, crouching next to him as she strokes his hair and updates him.

“Sweetheart, your breathing isn't where we need it to be, okay? You're not getting enough oxygen. We need to put you to sleep for a while… intubate you. Do you understand?”

Coop closes his eyes, humming in assent even as a frightened tear slips down his cheek.

“Ju-just… d-d-do… iiiiit.”

His voice is shot. Weak. Resigned to his fate.

It's the same phrase he used when Abby shocked his heart back into a regular rhythm a few months ago. Back then, though, it had simply been a plea to get things over with.

Now, it seems not only a desperate entreaty, but also a solemn reminder:

I’ve been here before.

Neela knows, just as the other staff do, that Coop’s been super sick a couple of times. He knows what it's like to wake up in the ICU feeling like you're breathing through a straw. He knows what it's like for weeks to pass in the span of a minute.

He knows that when he's tubed, he can breathe, and that’s all that matters.

“We’re going to look after you, sweetheart, I promise.” Abby says, her own eyes a little misty. She brushes the sweat-damp hair from his forehead and squeezes his hand. One of the other nurses adjusts the bed so it's laying flat. The tears, terrified, continue to stream silently down his cheeks.

Abby lifts his hand, pressing an almost motherly kiss to the back of it, while Pratt slots a syringe full of medication into the cannula of his other hand.

“Propofol and some muscle relaxants are going to go in now, man. Just relax and let yourself drift off- we’ve got you.”

As the syringe is pushed, Neela can see Coop’s grip on Abby’s hand loosen. The thick tears decorating his cheeks seem, in themselves, to slow down, the scared expression in his eyes melting away beneath the anaesthetic. He blinks once. Twice.

Gone.

There's something so unnerving about Coop being still. How, as Pratt brushes his index finger underneath Coop’s eyelashes, the latter doesn't stir at all to crack a smile. When Dr Lewis gets into position behind his head and adjusts her patient accordingly, he's limp and movable. Floppy.

“Pratt, can you get that nebulizer off?”

“Sure.”

There are red marks across Coop's face from where the straps of the mask dug into his skin for hours. Now, he doesn't breathe at all. He looks dead. According to the dropping numbers on the monitor, he may as well be dead.

“Laryngoscope.”

“Here. Laryngoscope.”

A nurse places the metal instrument into Dr Lewis' awaiting hand. Her other hand gently tilts Coop’s head back.

“Alright… sliding laryngoscope in… got slight cord visualisation. Tube?”

“Tube.”

Neela watches her angle the endotracheal tube in with bated breath- and for good reason.

“C’mon, Coop.” Lewis murmurs, desperately trying to gain access. “I need to help you breathe, sweetheart. Let me help you breathe.”

Pratt steps up next to her, arms crossed. “Difficult airway?”

“Nearly impossible. Haven't seen this level of inflammation in a long time. Poor guy must have been so incredibly uncomfortable.”

The monitor continues to blare. Coop’s oxygen levels continue to drop.

Abby, still positioned right next to him, stroking his hair even as he lays there unconscious, glances worriedly at the screen.

“His sats aren't looking good.”

Dr Lewis sighs. “Yeah, I know, I'm just trying to- there.”

Her relief is palpable, and Neela knows at once that she’s finally in. She watches the tube slot into place before Lewis inflates the cuff, and Pratt connects everything up to the vent.

“Tube’s misting.” Abby says gently, as everyone begins to relax. “Looks like good placement.”

Pratt pulls his stethoscope out from around his neck.

“I’ll check.”

He moves to Coop's side and checks his breathing, first auscultating the left side of his chest, then the right. It's odd, Neela thinks, to observe how natural his breathing looks now, when only moments ago it was erratic and desperate- but of course, it isn't technically him breathing now at all. They've taken over for him.

After a few more checks with the stethoscope across Coop’s chest and neck, Pratt stands up, slinging the device back around his own neck.

“Bilateral breath sounds. You're in.”

Everyone in the room seems to relax at once, especially when the numbers on the monitor start to creep up to normal.

“Alright,” Dr Lewis breathes, turning to Abby. “Secure it, then we'll get him down to ICU. Keep him on max settings until we know it's safe to start weaning him off."

She moves back, as does Pratt, and Abby stands, giving Coop’s hair one last gentle run through with her fingers before she moves away to fetch the tube holder. Neela's eyes remain fixed on him, though. It's impossible not to when he's so completely still.

“You alright, Neela?” Abby asks gently as she returns a few moments later.

Neela nods. “Yeah, I just… it's so different when you know them. I didn't realise how sick it would make me feel.”

Abby gives her a small reassuring smile, then focuses her attention back on the packaging she's just picked up, tearing it open and pulling out the holder before she starts to peel off the tape on the pads.

“I know what you mean. It's not easy seeing somebody you care about like this, and it's somehow even harder with a person like Coop. He's always smiling, always moving, always there, and now…” She presses the first pad against his cheek gently, thumb brushing against it to secure it. “He's not. He's always there to take care of everybody else, and now…” She applies the other pad, movements just as careful and attentive. “He needs us to take care of him.”

Neela hums affirmatively, watching her secure the tube.

“There's just so much at stake. So much that could go wrong, and nearly did. Maybe it even has.”

Abby finishes, standing up fully again and adjusting things ever so slightly. Coop looks like the other patients in the ICU now, and it makes Neela’s stomach roll with anxiety.

“It isn't easy.” Abby responds. “But that's what the ER’s like, even if it happens with one of our own. It's fast-paced, it's risky, and sometimes the worst happens. Sometimes, we can't easily cure a patient, and we have to hope that they'll fight enough on their own to get through things.”

“Do you think he will? Coop?”

“There are no guarantees, but if anyone's going to, it's him.” She looks down at him with a mixture of affection and admiration. Her thumb strokes along the curve of his jaw. “He just needs to hang on long enough for the inflammation to go down. He just needs to do something which is pretty alien to him, and rest. Let us do some of the heavy lifting for a while until he's strong enough to do it on his own again.”

Neela nods. “He'll get through it.”

Abby smiles. “Exactly. He'll get through it… You’re a tough one, aren't you, sweetheart?” She brushes back some more sweat-damp and unruly hair from his forehead. “Let's get you somewhere you can rest, hm?”

Coop remains still, the only sign he's still there at all being the beeping of the monitor and the fogging of the tube. But somehow, as Neela helps Abby raise the railings of the bed ready for transport, she knows he's going to come out of this.

He always does.

[whumpster-dumpster]

(this ask ended up getting much more rambly than expected haha)

hello, i love your blog and whump in general and i would like to try and get involved in the community.

thing is, i feel really weird/embarrassed for liking whump (even before i knew the term). like ashamed i guess? (im not sure how to put it into words exactly). so i dont want to tell any of my irl freinds that im into it/put it on my main since some of my irl freinds follow my main.

and i do draw and i used to write but i dont really know how to draw/write whump yk? (though i have written whumpy things before, when i was like 10, they were really shit though by virtue of me being a 10 year old) and i feel too shy to put any of my work out into the internet for all to see, espcially my writing because i havent actually written prose fiction in. years. i have played dnd (and my campaigns do tend to get pretty whumpy) but i dont think the experiance of roleplaying it really translates well to the internet?

so i was wondering if you have any tips for 1 getting involved in the whump community and 2 managing feeling embarrased about liking whump

Here's an equally rambly answer! First off, welcome to the community! You're definitely not alone in liking it or in feeling embarrassed about liking it. A lot of us, myself included, have our moments where we feel weird for our interest.

I can't tell you how to get over that because I still feel embarrassed sometimes but pinpointing your reasons for liking it can make it easier to explain if someone inquires. Is it the aesthetic? The drama, the adrenaline? The character development? Is it a coping mechanism? A kink? We've got community members whose reasoning is all across the spectrum. Understanding your reason can be reassuring and help it make sense.

As for the shyness, a lot of us make side blogs for whump content, so it can be a little more isolated/private if we feel awkward about IRL/main blog followers seeing. If your art style is easily recognizable as yours, that might not be the best solution but also remember you don't have to post what you draw (or write.) You can create whump content just for you (and if you decide you do eventually want to post some, that will have served as good practice.)

There are whump prompt lists coming out all the time that can be used for art or writing if you don't know what you want to make. You should look up the whump wheel, it's a fun one!

Re: getting more involved in the community: believe it or not, there are whump roleplayers floating around in the tags pretty often! They'd probably enjoy another roleplay partner on the scene! Beyond that, liking people's posts, reblogging them to that side blog if you decide to make it, coming into their inboxes to say you enjoy their content, sending in prompts if whump fic writers are asking for some, posting prompts of your own if there's a type of whump content you notice lacking and want to inspire someone to explore...There are monthly whump events happening all the time too if you want to participate or just reblog to help promote them. You could also ask if another whump artist wants to do an art trade with you. Those are some of the best ways to dive in!

I hope that was helpful. Have fun!

[awesomestarfighter]

Whump Isn't Satisfying When It's Not Followed Up On

Another clickbaitey title again, I'm nothing if not consistent.

But I got incensed enough to make another post, so here I am again.

I love the Jedi, and like many fans, one Obi-Wan Kenobi is a huge favorite of mine.

I also love whump. It's one of my favorite subjects to search for in fic.

I do not like how Obi-Wan is whumped in The Clone Wars.

The setup is there, as we see the many, many ways one Obi-Wan Kenobi is whumped in TCW.

. . . But that's it.

That's all the show does to him. It beats him up till he's battered and bruised, and then it just leaves him in the dust.

At the very least it was mentioned he was dunked in the bacta after Landing at Point Rain, but the other examples?

Zilch.

And I know it's an action show, so it doesn't really have time for the much less exciting aftermath.

That would hold up a lot better if we didn't see other characters getting medical attention.

Ahsoka and Barriss, after the worms? Medical bay.

Anakin, after the explosion he held back with his mind and severely injured him? Getting him medical attention is literally the entire drive of the episode, and by the next episode he's still pretty battered.

Mace and Anakin, after they're both pinned under several tons of debris? Medical bay again.

Padme, Ahsoka, Rex, and his brother, infected by a deadly disease? Wheeled away on stretchers because they can't just walk that off.

There might be more examples I'm forgetting, but the point is that when the show goes out of the way to show injured characters getting medical attention, you can't spare a second of thought for Obi-Wan (remember when he's just standing there after Kadavo all bruised and battered? I sure do) then that is a problem.

Specifically, it's a huge problem of Filoni's.

It's not really a secret that he doesn't like Obi-Wan after all. Cody was the only named clone in the movies after all, but we got so little of their relationship in the show. Hell, we got more moments between Obi-Wan and Rex then we ever got between Obi-Wan and Cody.

Even more tellingly, Filoni's an Anakin stan, so of course he doesn't like Obi-Wan. He beats him up and never treats his injuries, he's never mentioned in moments when he theoretically should be (especially Umbara, when he's literally the only other Jedi present on the planet besides Krell) and of course then we have s7, where characters badmouth him and the narrative lets them be right because it's written by Filoni.

I'll always be grateful for the fanfic writers who take the time to write the aftermath of Obi-Wan getting beat up all the time.

When whump is written into something, I want it to be written right.

[abubblingcandle]

I am SO excited for the cuddlepollen fic!! You have no idea!!

All the people (or just one very enthusiastic anon) asking about this fic has pushed it back up higher on my list ngl so keep it up! I'm also super excited for this fic. There's going to be a lot of whump but also a lot of comfort and fluff including:

Roy finding out about Jamie's dad and only plotting not committing a murder

Roy reading The Beautiful and The Damned and only plotting not committing a murder (he does throw the book at Ted tho)

Jamie finding out that maybe more people will like him if he does reveal some squishy bits, not everyone is out to get him

Jamie breaks up with Keeley which doesn't go well but is actually quite healing for the lad

Here's another little Ch1 snippet :)

He sat there with the projector behind his eyes playing through the ambulance arriving and the paramedics looking like buff male swimsuit models leaping out of it. They pushed Ted out of the way of Jamie, plunged a syringe into Jamie’s chest and the lad woke up with an ethereal glow with no signs of what had happened. That wasn’t really what happened. What really happened is as the ambulance drove onto the pitch, leaving grooves that Nate would be moaning about for days after this, and as soon as the wheels touched turf Beard tensed. “He’s stopped breathing.”