#no24

[letthewhumpbegin]

Whumptober 2024, day 24 Prompt: collapsed building @whumptober

Hawaii Five-0, s4e19

[femsanzo291]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Nureyev & Jet Sikuliaq Characters: Peter Nureyev, Jet Sikuliaq, Ruby 7 (Penumbra Podcast) Additional Tags: Trapped, Building Collapse, Blood and Injury, collapse Series: Part 24 of FemSanzo291's Whumptober 2024, Part 3 of Juno Steel and the War AU Summary:

When a building collapsed around Jet and Peter, Jet realizes something that he should have much earlier.

[wh40kartwork]

Khârn 

by NO-24

[galladrabbles]

hello my darlings! i’m here with this week’s prompt:

✨STAR✨

happy drabbling!!

Macy!! Thank you so much for your prompt. It's very on brand and fitting to your URL ☺️⭐!!

Let's fly high together, wonderful drabble crew, and reach for the stars!!

Have a star shower of fantastic ideas, my lovelies. Happy Drabbling!!

[dimigexwrites]

Whumptober, Day 24 - Kakashi/Sakura

Prompt: One down, two to go (self-induced injures to escape, flashback, revenge)

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Kakashi/Sakura

Rating: T

Words: 1358

Notes: Requested by @misschih I hope you enjoy it!

-------

“Hokage-sama.” Kakashi glanced up at the urgency in Shikamaru’s voice. The man shut the door behind him and approached the desk. “You’re needed at the hospital.”

Fear slid into Kakashi’s chest, a building panic that pressed against his ribs. Exhaling, he laid aside the report that he’d been reading. “Who is it?”

Shikamaru didn’t answer immediately, holding the information back as if he could give Kakashi an extra moment of normalcy. Kakashi stood and removed the Hokage robe and hat while waiting. He wouldn’t be summoned to the hospital for anything short of a threat to the village or a close personal relationship. His breath caught. When he turned to face Shikamaru, the man nodded. “It’s Sakura.”

Kakashi knew, some part of him knew, that it would be Sakura from the moment Shikamaru entered his office. He resisted the urge to shunshin directly to the hospital. He needed to know what he was walking into. At Kakashi’s silence, Shikamaru continued. “She’s badly hurt, but Tsunade is with her. The rest of her team was killed in action.”

Killed in action. Over the course of his career, Kakashi had heard those words more times than he cared to remember. But, this time felt different. He knew Sakura’s team, watched them flourish under her care. Usagi hoped to become a medic like her sensei. She’d already entered the advanced program that Sakura started not long after the war. Nami had grown more confident and less soft spoken, standing up for her friends and teammates. And, Genki had learned to harness his energy toward teamwork and self-improvement rather than cutting remarks. Kami-sama, they were only kids.

Kakashi ran his tongue across his lips. “It was a C-rank mission,” he mumbled. This couldn’t be happening. “Sakura could complete those in her sleep, alone.”

“We may not have much time, Hokage-sama.” Shikamaru’s use of Kakashi’s title made the panic rise higher. He pushed open the door. “Please.”

The walk to the hospital seemed to drag on for an eternity, but Kakashi couldn’t remember moving. The same white halls and antiseptic smells that he’d grown used to while dating Sakura now seemed foreign and uninviting. Shikamaru knew where he was going, moving through the maze with practiced ease. He stopped beside one door wand knocked. Tsunade opened it, then her eyes slid past Shikamaru. She dipped her chin. “Kakashi.”

Machines beeped a steady rhythm beside the bed, but Kakashi only saw Sakura. She lay on her back, sheet and blankets tucked around her like she’d fallen asleep. His eyes slid over her face, then returned to her forehead. “Her seal,” he asked, turning to Tsunade. “Where is it?”

“She released the bound chakra.” Tsunade’s lips pinched into a thin line as she looked at her former student. “Her body hasn’t been able to restore her reserves.”

“If she used the seal, why is she dying?” Kakashi’s void didn’t shake as he fought to make sense of what happened. He moved closer to the bed. “It healed your entire body during the war. Sakura fought a literal god with it.”

Tsunade placed a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder, and he couldn’t bring himself to shrug away from it. “I don’t know,” the woman admitted. “I suspect she used it to try and save her genin rather than on herself.”

That made sense. Sakura would never allow her students in harm’s way unless there was no other option. She would have done everything she could to protect them. Kakashi’s eyes slid over her body, looking for the injuries. Tsunade had healed most of them, even the bloody reminders were missing except for the armor heaped beside the bed. “What’s wrong—”

Kakashi’s words caught in his throat as he looked at Sakura’s hand. Or rather, the space where her hand should have been. The world tipped sideways and he caught the bed rail to keep from collapsing. Sakura’s arm ended in a stump halfway between her elbow and where her wrist would have been. The rest was swathed in a cast.

Tsunade pushed Kakashi into a chair that she’d moved behind him. “Her arm was, is badly damaged. There are multiple breaks in the bone. I’ve set them for now, and done what I could to encourage healing.”

Kakashi felt like he was watching the scene from outside his body. “And, her hand?”

“Sakura did that herself.” Tsunade answered, voice soft. At Kakashi’s stare, the woman sighed. “The edges were perfectly uniform, done either with a scalpel or chakra, and the end was cauterized to stop bleeding. I recognize her work.”

Blinking, Kakashi looked between Sakura and Tsunade in confusion. “Are you saying that she cut off her hand? Why?”

“Probably to escape. I imagine she tried to break free with her strength, shattering the bones in her arm and shoulder. When that didn’t work, she cut her way out of captivity.” Something like awe slid into Tsunade’s voice, but Kakashi didn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure he felt anything . Tsunade took the expression as a question and continued. “The infection from the wound entered her bloodstream. I can’t heal that with chakra.”

There were no words left, no questions that Kakashi wanted to ask, so he nodded. He let himself stay in the pain for several trembling breaths, then he compressed the emotion to a tight ball in the back of his mind and stood. “I’ll need the records and information for her student’s families.”

“I can do it,” Shikamaru interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t have to be the one to tell them.”

“Yes, I do. Our failure to categorize missions correctly got an entire team slaughtered. I want to know what went wrong. I want the mission summary on my desk in—” Kakashi barely got the words out before Shikamaru produced a scroll from his vest. Kakashi skimmed over the words, trying to understand how everything could have gone wrong.

Blowing out another breath, Kakashi nodded. “Fine, I want an Anbu team assembled.” He glanced at the clock above the doorway. “We leave in an hour.”

“You can’t—”

“You’re in no condition--”

Shikamaru and Tsunade spoke over one another, but the third voice stopped Kakashi in his tracks. A familiar face appeared in the shadows, eyes gentle but firm. Tenzo shook his head and repeated the single word. “No.”

Rage boiled through Kakashi’s veins, hot and sudden, preferable to the helplessness he felt sitting beside Sakura. “I’m giving you all a direct order. I want my team ready to move when I give the command.”

“I’ll get them,” Tenzo offered, sparing a single glance for the woman in the bed. Kakashi couldn’t get a read on his expression behind the mask. “Two four man teams versed in extraction and reconnaissance to make sure we get answers. But, you won’t lead them anywhere.”

Tsunade nodded. “You’ll want to be here if she wakes.”

If. The word put pressure on a broken place inside of Kakashi, shattering it. Shards burst through his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. “I can’t,” he gasped out. “I can’t sit here and watch her die.”

“And you can’t lead a mission,” Tenzo answered, voice sharp. “I will not risk more lives to satisfy your revenge.”

“I’ll support their decision with the elders.” Shikamaru looked between Tsunade and Tenzo, reading the situation in a heartbeat. “If you go, it’ll be considered a desertion of duty.”

Kakashi laughed, bitter and sharp. “Do you think I care? Hang the title and everything that it means. What good is it when I can’t save the people I care about?”

Angry tears stung the back of Kakashi’s eyes, and he turned away. Tenzo made a motion with one hand and Tsunade and Shikamaru filed out of the room. Kakashi’s long time friend moved to his side and stared down at Sakura with palpable sadness. He squeezed Kakashi’s shoulder. “We’ll get them.”

“I want them to pay,” Kakashi ground out, his voice hoarse from holding back the sob that rose in his throat. “Kill them all.”

Tenzo hummed without agreement and shunshinned from the room, leaving Kakashi alone with the soft beep of Sakura’s heart rate monitor.

[bloodandbandages]

Ryan: Trauma

Prompts from @whumptober2021 days 24 and 31

Takes place far in the future

CW: mind control, captor bonding/Stockholm syndrome (not really but that's the closest I've got), mind break, ill whumpee, flashback, mention of past mutual noncon, unhealthy coping mechanisms and relationship dynamics

Taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @boxboysandotherwhump @jdfreads @rosesareviolentlyread @astra-queenofhell @whumpinggrounds @what-a-whump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Aed wonders if he was too late.

Ryan has never fully come back to themself, not even close. They were in the basement for nearly a year, he should give it time he knows. 

But they don't have time, do they? 

All humans have short lifespans compared with the fae, but Ryan is sick. They only have a year, or rather, they had a year.

Now, it's probably closer to a month. They will be dead soon, their wings a spoil Aed can claim.

Aed doesn't feel victorious.

This human is not among his enemies. 

In the basement, they were his only friend. 

In all honesty, they still are. Fae rarely venture into the human world. Those that do don't often come back and he's been gone for so long.

Perhaps he's already been mourned. It would be better that way. He's been mutilated, he will never fly again and he's done unspeakable things, violated every code of honor the fae hold themselves to.

He'd been so sure he would die in that basement, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself when he was freed.

Not to mention absolutely nothing went to plan. He hadn’t expected the young fae or that he would leave them behind just to save himself.

He hadn't expected the lost puppy of a human to continue trailing after him either. 

They're still alive in every way that counts, even if they are fading quickly. They breathe, they eat, they sleep and respond to Aed when he prompts them.

Their mind, however, hasn't shown any signs of returning. Of course they'll do what he asks of them, even if it's not a command. Their body will react if he jabs or caresses them. 

They'd just stopped wanting things. They wanted to be near him, to please him and to no longer be hurt but they never asked anything of him. They never did anything for themselves. 

It was his own fault, really. No one was meant to be kept compelled for long stretches of time and they had been for almost a year. They were a monster of his own making, which is why he stuck by them and tried to heal them, even though he knew they were doomed.

He could have easily abandoned them, they weren't in much of a state to pursue him and they were dying anyways but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to them after all the pain he'd caused them. They deserved to at least die as themselves, not a hollowed shell.

He was so lost in his own guilt, he nearly missed the screams. 

The most alive Ryan ever seemed was when they were asleep. They were still plagued by night terrors, screaming and crying almost every night. 

Aed tried to wake them, and frankly he'd succeeded but not in alleviating their terror. He'd only added to it. 

They pushed him away with all their strength and scrambled backwards, pressing themself against a tree trunk.

"Get off of me!"

"I'm over here."

"Stop touching me!"

"I'm not."

Their voice was trembling now. "I can feel your hands, I can feel you on me."

"I'm all the way over here, see?" He tried.

"Leave me alone!"

They weren't calming. One thing left to try.

"Use my name."

"But-"

"Use my name."

"AED, stay over there and don't touch me."

Very little changed as he hadn't been attempting either, but his limbs still stiffened accordingly.

They tried to avoid using names now, when they'd been such a cause of pain and control, but sometimes it was the only way Ryan could gain enough control over him that they felt safe.

Their breathing gradually slowed as they calmed and the compulsion faded. Their harsh breaths faded into quiet sobs. 

Aed just sat there with them. He couldn’t be the monster in their nightmares and their savior, so he didn’t try to be. He gave them what they asked of him, mostly to avoid the guilt. He never initiated anything but he endured whatever they gave him.

They'd certainly earned that right. 

They were the only reason they'd managed to escape.

"Which night?" He finally asks.

"The bad one," is all they can manage. 

They don't need to go further, he knows which one they refer to. They both prefer to talk around it, not call it rape. 

Names are powerful. You name the monster, and suddenly it's real. 

Or perhaps Aed is just too much of a coward to deal with the fact that the human he's trying so hard to save has nightmares about him.

He's unsure what to say. An "I'm sorry" is far too trivial for what's transpired between them but he offers it all the same. 

They take it. There's no mention of forgiveness because they both know it's pointless.

He's surprised though, when the command comes.

"AED, hold me."

His body follows suit, even though he would have obliged their request either way. 

Still they prefer physical contact like this, where they hold all the power and he has none. He can’t blame them, and he's almost glad for there to be something he can actually provide, so he holds them long past the compulsion, for as long as they wish.

And when the tears come, he lets them and he holds them through it.

It's all he can do.

[onewhostandswithopenarms]

October 24: YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE

They woke slowly, consciousness reaching them like waves lapping against a shore. They could almost feel the water. Cool and calm, and perfectly still. Wait, what? They opened their eyes to.... black. It was still pitch black, even though they were sure they had opened their eyes. What was going on? Oh. The pressure around their head finally registered. A blindfold. The reached up to tug it off only to find cool metal. What kind of blindfold was this? Tugging did nothing; nor did feeling for any kind of lock. In fact, the more they moved, the more the water became agitated against their skin. Oh, God. The water. How big was the pool? They kicked upright and couldn't touch the bottom, reached up and couldn't find the ceiling. Readjusting, they breathed heavily, only the sound of their own blood pounding through their skull roaring in their ears. ...... Where was the splashing. They had displaced water, where was the sound?! God, they couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't..... feel. The water had disappeared. They were still floating; but there was no more water. Oh God what was happening. What was going on?!?!

[toomuchponytail]

Whumptober #24 &#29

The cold was like a presence. It soaked through the hero’s clothes and into numb and aching limbs like a particularly nasty poison. Slow acting and quickly growing painful--just like one that the antagonist would pick if they’d been up and plotting. 

Unfortunately, the antagonist had been unconsciousness for the better part of the last four hours, slung over the hero’s shoulder unceremoniously--the hero smiles momentarily through blue tinged lips at how they imagined the conversation was going to go when they told the antagonist that they’d carried them out like a sack of potatoes. 

They’d be livid--sputtering and embarrassed--their cheeks flushing pink, the way their dark eyes would snap with outrage, but then of course there would also be just a smidge of gratitude, a healthy pinch of mutual understanding....The hero stopped walking for a second, the smile that had started as a smirk and grown to a cheek busting bright megawatt real smile melting off of their face as they pushed the odd fondness that they’d just had for their enemy to the back of their mind. 

They were just taking their defeated nemesis back to base--saving them from freezing to death, just like they’d do for anyone else. They pushed the odd warmth that had blossomed in their chest down inside of them as deeply as they could. 

They shifted the antagonist's limp form to get a better grip, wincing as they did so, the hand not holding the antagonist going to cover the screaming wound on their side protectively, it had been a parting gift from a knife wielding thief last week--fighting with the antagonist had opened it back up again--figures. 

The hero didn’t think it was bleeding, it had been sharply painful when the antagonist had kicked them there, ripping the stitches and barely healed skin back open, the ache flaring back up to bright agony that had clouded hero’s brain for several seconds. Now it just ached angrily, feeling like the only warm part of hero’s body as it pulsed hot with every heartbeat, almost like it was angry at being disturbed. 

Hero couldn’t feel much anymore, their existence was narrowing down to the measured steps through snow drifts, the panting breaths that fogged in the air, exhaustion weighed down limbs and eyes, glassy with pain as they pushed forward--not as if they had a choice. 

They’d been out here for far too long, the antagonist had thought that using their shoddy overheating surge capture thing in the dead of winter would maybe be the crazy solution that they’d been looking for. Instead it had just exploded, it would have taken the antagonist with it if hero hadn’t been there to frantically rip it off them as they scrambled underneath them, otherwise the antagonist would be twining with Doc Oc, with their weird mechanic fused-to-them backpacks. Now the hero’s legs felt like they didn’t belong to them, they might as well have been made of stone for how clumsy and heavy they felt, the cold having driven the feeling out of them. 

Hero sighed, failing to suppress another pang of frustration at the idiot that they were carrying across this winter wasteland towards wherever they’d parked their car. It was getting pretty difficult to see, hero wondered if it was because of the rapidly falling snow...Or if it had something to do with how their vision kept blurring and distorting, hero kept having to blink to focus them. 

They must be bleeding a lot, hero gathers their thoughts like they are picking change up off of a flat marble floor. That must be why their vision is blurring, they couldn’t stop shivering now, their legs threatening to give out on them, they hoped that they’d be able to keep going--maybe they needed help. Not that they’d get it, they were the only person stupid enough to be out in this storm. 

Well, themselves and the antagonist anyway. 

They paused in their constant plodding, the wind whipping tiny hard snowflakes against them--not that they could feel it. 

They just had to keep going, it had to be around here somewhere! 

Eventually they falter, it may have been minutes but it felt like hours, their legs buckling under them, they don’t realize that they are falling until the snow crunches against their face. They roll over, blinking in confusion, trying to understand how they got here. 

“Hero?” was that the antagonist's voice it was hard to tell, it was coming from so far away, ? Did they sound worried? it couldn’t be, hero chalked it up to the ringing in their ears. The antagonist never worried, least of all about them. 

“Hero whats wrong with you?” 

Was the antagonist touching their face? Hero couldn’t feel their face because of the cold wind, but it sort of felt like the antagonist was cupping their face through a wool sweater. 

What was going on? There was movement at their side, hero tried to protect their wound only to have the antagonist push their hands away easily.

“Honestly hero,” they scoff, not quite hiding the fear-born sheen in their eyes as they get a look at the loosely bandaged stab wound they crunch their face into a frown when they see how much it’s bleeding. 

Before the antagonist can do anything, the hero’s head falls back, rolling limply to the side, their blood turning the snow a bright fiery crimson.