#no30

[letthewhumpbegin]

Whumptober 2024, day 30 Prompt: hospital bed @whumptober

Hawaii Five-O, 10x22

[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: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Characters: Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Healing, Post-Season/Series 05, Post-Season/Series Finale, mentioned blood loss, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Recovery Series: Part 29 of FemSanzo291's Whumptober 2024 Summary:

Juno doesn't want to take his recovery from his time in the clutches of the Dokana Group slowly, no matter what Peter says.

[whumpookies]

Day 30 title: It's okay just to say "I'm not okay"

Prompt: borrowed clothing (days after being stabbed, after bleeding through his shirt another is provided)

[galladrabbles]

hello my sweets!🥰

popping in to drop my galladrabble prompt— it’s the summertime & i hope we are all feeling flirty and fun and thriving, and i know our beloved boys would also hopefully be out on the town!! because i love a drunk and sappy ian/mickey fic as much as the next person (and anything else that this word inspires!), my prompt for this week is: ✨tipsy✨

(this is definitely just bc i went out to a gay bar last night lol, but i cannot wait to see what everyone’s beautiful brains come up with! love u all🥺💜)

Cheers, Rori!

Thank you for submitting this week's Galladrabble-prompt! Even before the shout out! So, drink on the house for you!

I hope the Galladrabble crew will be in high spirits about your prompt!

Let's get

"TIPSY"

together, folks!

Can't wait to read what you all come up with!

Happy Drabbling!

[bloodandbandages]

Aspen: Left For Dead/Taken Hostage

Prompt from @whumptober2021 day 30 (holy shit, I got one out on time!) and day 4

Takes place in the future after this and this.

CW: mention of past whump and attempted human sacrifice, chronically ill whumpee, just really fuckin sad

Taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @boxboysandotherwhump @jdfreads @rosesareviolentlyread @what-a-whump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

Aspen awakes in waves, like coming out of a drugged sleep for surgery.

He struggles to remember exactly what happened, pain clouding his mind.

He almost wants to return to the bliss of unconsciousness, where he could escape the pain but he knows he should fight to stay awake. He's been vulnerable long enough.

He aches, his whole body is entrenched in a bone deep ache that throbs like a pulse. He tries to lift his hand and it feels like he has weights tied to every single finger. He attempts to sit up, he thinks he's on a bed of some kind. It deepens the hurt but he breathes through it and tries to stand.

The ache transforms into a sharp fiery pain, shooting through his legs and coursing through his veins. He cries out, but stays upright, even on trembling legs. The next second though, his legs have buckled under his weight and he's on the floor, crying and cursing in equal measure.

He feels so heavy, like his limbs are lead not flesh.

He allows himself five seconds to cry and scream and ache.

One.

He rocks gently and hits his forehead against the bed he was just on.

Two.

He adds taps, fingers ignoring their pain to dance along his chest.

Three.

It's not enough, it's not enough and he's hitting himself now not tapping.

Four.

He tries to scream but all he can managed is a broken sob because it hurts, it hurts so bad and-

Five.

He takes a shaky breath, in and out, and he slows. He can't still himself but he can rein himself in.

Where is he? How long has he been out?

He racks his brain, trying to remember his last waking moment.

He was in the hospital, and then he hadn't been. He'd been amongst those people who'd taken him, called him a savior and ignored his begs to be released and returned.

He hated the hospital but at least he knew what to expect from there, and sometimes there was Isaac.

He didn't have much time left with Isaac now.

He didn't want to lose more of it.

He'd begged them but they hadn't listened,  and they'd strung him up, left him there and then-

Pain, his skin screaming in agony and the hands, hands all over him and they wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t move or see-

He forced himself to breathe.

That was it, that was where it stopped.

Something had happened between then and now, something he had missed.

He needs to go back, needs to find his brother. He's still blindfolded, but he's not restrained anymore, so he reaches up to remove it-

And his hands come away empty.

There's nothing tied around his head, there's just mountains and mountains of petals and leaves and thorns, encircling him just like a blindfold.

He will never see again.

They’ve managed to reach deep within him and find something else to take for themselves, and Aspen allows himself to cry for everything that they’ve stolen.

[dimigexwrites]

Whumptober, Day 30 - Kakashi/Tenzo

Prompt: Digging your grave (major character death, left for dead, ghosts) Fandom: Naruto Characters: Kakashi/Tenzo Rating: T Words: 1346 Notes: For @vibgyoroygbiv who didn't request this but needs this hurt as much as I do lol

-------

"I love you," Tenzo whispered, running his fingers through Kakashi's silver hair. He brushed the soft strands away from the other man's forehead. The Copy Nin wasn’t wearing the hitai-ate that usually slanted across his face, and Tenzo let his gaze wander over the long scar that had taken Kakashi’s original eye. The jonin rarely sat still long enough for Tenzo to appreciate his beauty the way that he was able to right now. Of course, Kakashi was every bit as beautiful in motion, so Tenzo never really minded.

Kakashi looked peaceful, another thing that almost never happened. The man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and had for as long as Tenzo had known him. Even in their early days of Anbu, Kakashi shoulders burdens far too heavy for a boy his age. Tenzo understood the immensity of an inescapable past better than most, and he'd recognized it in his captain. That had been one of the things that drew the men together. Somehow, in the darkness of Anbu, they’d saved each other.

As he gazed down, Tenzo’s chest constricted and his knees almost gave way. It hurt to draw air into his lungs. His hand slid over Kakashi’s cheek, and he leaned down to meet their lips together in a gentle kiss. Tenzo lingered, tears filling his eyes and running down his cheeks, until he heard the door open behind him. For once, the sound caught the Anbu off guard.

A feminine cough announced the presence of the Hokage, and Tenzo straightened from adjusting Kakashi’s mask over his mouth. Light brown eyes met darker ones, and Tsunade nodded. “It’s time.”

Tenzo nodded and wiped his cheeks. He allowed himself one final squeeze of Kakashi’s hand before following Tsunade from the room. He composed himself on the walk to the cemetery, recalling every ounce of training Anbu had given him. By the time Tenzo reached Kakashi’s student, his face had taken on a mask of shinobi emotionlessness.

The younger ninja didn't fare as well. Tears clung to Naruto's golden lashes, and his face was splotched in red, but he managed to hold himself together for most part. Sakura did better, surprisingly. Her hands clenched against her pants and her nose was tinged pink from crying earlier, but no tears fell. Tenzo rested a hand on each of the student’s shoulders without speaking.

Distant thunder rumbled as Tsunade began, extolling Kakashi’s strength, virtue, and sacrifice. Tenzo muted the Hokage’s words to a buzz, choosing to remember the way that Kakashi’s eyes creased when he smiled. He pictured the effortless way that Kakashi shoved his headband up and moved through combat as if he were invincible. Kami, Tenzo’s always thought he was. Kakashi was almost untouchable, in battle anyway.

Tenzo’s favorite image would always be Kakashi in bed, a gorgeous flush of desire on his pale cheeks as he watched Tenzo crawl toward him. The memory gripped his throat, forcing the air out. A sob lodged there, held there by pure willpower. Icy rain splashed onto Tenzo’s face, cold tendrils worming through his hair and down his cheeks. Warm tears joined it before he could stop them. Brilliant lightning flickered across the sky. Tenzo glanced up, welcoming the reminder of Kakashi as Tsunade drew the memorial to a close.

Slowly, people began to drift away. A few spoke to Tenzo, but he didn’t recognize the words. He probably responded, or they took his silence as an answer. Either way, the cemetery emptied of everyone except Kakashi’s team. Sakura stood by Tenzo’s side until everyone else had gone. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug, then lifted on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Tenzo felt nothing. “Why don’t you come back to my apartment, I’ll make something for dinner and we can-

“Thank you, no,” Tenzo interrupted, forcing his emotions into a tight ball of agony that he held away from his countenance.

“We could watch a movie, or play cards, or go get ramen,” Naruto offered, his blue eyes brighter from the tears that left tracks down his whiskered face.

Tenzo made himself smile. “Kakashi was so proud of you, of the shinobi you’ve become,” he offered to soften his refusal. Kakashi didn’t say it often enough. Tenzo nodded toward the village. “I appreciate the offer, but why don’t you two go ahead? I’m fine.”

Naruto started to argue, but Sakura caught his arm. She bit her lower lip, eyes watery. Tenzo hated the feeling that she saw through his guise, hated the knowing expression. “You know where to find us if you want to talk. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

The rain increased, slicking Sakura’s pink hair to her face. Tenzo mumbled a thank you without meeting her gaze. He watched the pair leave, disappearing around the bend that led back to Konoha. Thunder rumbled again, and Tenzo moved closer to the flower covered slab that held an image of Kakashi. The photograph didn’t look like him; the hokage robes weighed down his shoulders, and the hat shadowed his beautiful, charcoal grey eyes. Kakashi stared soberly back at Tenzo.

Fingers traced the cold, damp glass that differed so much from Tenzo’s memory. Even so, it was Kakashi, his Kakashi. Pain flared from Tenzo’s knees when his legs gave way, cracking against the hard stone. A sob rose in Tenzo’s throat before he could stop it, and for once, he didn’t try to hold it back. The strength of emotion took him by surprise, squeezed his chest until the world grew dark at the edges. Tenzo sucked a desperate breath into his lungs, only to sob it out the next second. The noise was louder than the rain, louder than the thunder, louder still than the heart beat that he wished would simply stop.

Tenzo crumpled forward, head resting against his knees until the sound quieted. The sobs never ended, but his body had nothing left to give. He stayed there until he felt a hand touch his back. He found Tsunade above him, a bottle of sake in the hand that wasn’t touching him. “Mourn him in private,” she offered, voice gentle. “Not here, and not like this.”

Before Tenzo could think of an answer, the former Hokage pressed the bottle into his hand. He stared at it in confusion, before tipping it toward the sky. The alcohol burned his throat, somehow loosening the pain he’d held there. The tears started again. “I can’t do th--”

“Yes, you can,” Tsunade interrupted, taking the bottle back. She took another long drink, then sat it on the stone and pulled Tenzo to his feet. “You can, and you will. Kakahsi wouldn’t want you to fall apart because of him.”

Tenzo nodded, unable to form words. He didn’t need them; Tsunade continued. “He’d want you to be there for his team when he can’t, for his friends. You’re the last piece of him that they have.”

The blonde’s eyes took on a distant expression as she spoke, and Tenzo knew that she was speaking from experience. He blew out a breath. “How do you do it?”

“Copious amounts of alcohol and sarcasm,” Tsunade laughed, releasing Tenzo to take another drink. “But, you’ll probably manage through gardening and yoga or some shit like that. But you have to keep going; don’t let his sacrifice be in vain, Tenzo.”

The man lifted his head to meet Tsunade’s eyes, surprised that hearing his name sent a flash of warmth through his frozen chest. For years, it had been Kakashi’s to use, something private between the two of them. Now, every time that Tenzo heard it, he would think of the changes that Kakashi had brought about in his life.

“Thank you,” Tenzo murmured, pushing his damp hair away from his face. He glanced back toward the soft light of the village, hazed by the drizzle that clung to the air, and wondered if it was too late to take Sakura and Naruto up on their offer. He could do this, for Kakashi.

[scribbles97]

Whumptober -- Recovery

Recovering was perhaps the worst part of an injury, in that it was plain torture for whomever was left recovering. Assuming the rest of the family was fit to, once any immediate threat to life was past, rescues had to be resumed leaving the injured party on the sidelines to simply sit and watch. 

Depending on the brother, each Tracy took this in a different way. 

Scott was undoubtedly the worst when recovering. Always eager to return to duty he was known for pushing himself too hard too soon and setting himself back five paces. Glares from a specific brother and threats to stay in bed were about all that would get him to rest. It was frustrating for all of them that nothing could be done about his insistence to follow rescues during his recovery, contributing even where it was unwanted and winding himself up that he was not there to help his little brothers. 

John’s recovery was of a different kind, less often injured the space bound brother more often struggled with returning to normal levels of gravity. Space sickness crippled him after long stints in orbit but not even Grandma could convince him to spend less time in the office, not since their father at least. He was probably the quietest in his recovery, willing to take himself to bed and sleep off the effects the best he could. 

Whilst Virgil had medical training, it did not make him the best patient. True to his nickname of a bear, recovery left him tired and grouchy with painkiller often doing little to aid him. His brothers knew to expect trouble if Virgil’s injuries stopped him from doing his art or playing the piano, no outlet led to pent up frustrations. Each had their own ways to distract him, each had varying degrees of success but he appreciated that they tried. 

Nobody dared voice it out loud but Gordon was perhaps the best patient of the five of them. He had definitely learned the hard way how to be a good patient, bad luck forcing him to figure out how to make the most of being hospitalised. Nurses had picked up on it before his brothers had, that humor and lighthearted demands covered for the pain and nightmares. Not that it had taken long for his family to catch on and intervene in the way that only brothers could. From then on they knew what to look for from the start. 

Being the baby of the family, Alan hated whatever gave his brothers opportunity to fuss over him. He would push back and protest that he was fine and perfectly capable of looking after himself. Except his family knew him better, they knew the real protests from the half hearted ones, they knew when littlest brothers recovery was paying its toll. Alan knew that they knew, they wouldn’t have been his big brothers if they hadn’t have known. He used it to his advantage, taking the hurt out of both his own and their recoveries to make everyone’s lives just a little bit easier.   

[toomuchponytail]

Whumptober #30 &#31

Sport announcer voice: Coming in right under the wire, is another trash story piece! I’m sorry, I know, I know, I tried my best. Forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself. 

Embrace the trash, enjoy the trash, be the trash. 

Arlin Smiled up at Harris almost condescendingly, there was blood on his teeth, he tried to talk but couldn’t find his voice. Hari laid a hand on his good shoulder fondly for a second, “Don’t try to talk, It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” he said gently before turning. 

“What happened to him?” Harris asked, turning to Ivan, worry plain on his face. 

Det. Ivan shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, setting the pliers down on the bedside table, “ I was blind folded, I didn’t even hear anything, I was walking from the restaurant and maybe something hit me? I don’t remember, all I have is a blank until yesterday, when they finally moved me from wherever I was, put me in a trunk and the car drove off, I was in the process of kicking out the lights and signaling for help when the car pulled over, I thought...well, that it was up for me...But then, when my hood was ripped off and my eyes adjusted to the light, Arlin was leaning up against the trunk cutting the zip ties. I thought he did it to me, got me kidnapped just for fun or something, then I saw the blood…” Ivan shook his head, “He could barely keep his feet underneath him, he was muttering something about being chased and to call you to get out of the city…” 

Arlin reached up and grabbed Harris’s arm, nodding gently, as Harris turned to look at him, he worked to form the words, finally:  

“J-jerid’s lookin’ f-for y-you,” it didn’t sound like Arlin’s voice, his voice was barely above a whisper, weak and raspy and utterly terrifying. 

“It’s alright Lin,” Harris said gently, surprise still naked in his eyes, but quickly changing to concern, not so much for Brad who still looked shocked, the morphine injection still in his gloved hand. 

“Get some rest Arlin,” Det. Ivan suddenly spoke up from the armchair, “Then you can explain everything, alright?” 

The idea of sleep was so seductive that Arlin almost accepted it, having to actively fight his eyeballs from rolling into his head, but instead to everyone’s shock and alarm, he swung himself up to a sitting position, almost folding but managing to say upright. He pushed himself towards the end of the bed with his bad wrist knowing he was causing damage, but also knowing that no one was going to take his advice, even if it was terribly important. 

What is this soft world coming to? 

Who’d said that? Why did he remember someone saying that to him? 

Then there were hands on him, pushing him back, there was shouting, he couldn’t make anything out of it, might as well have been gibberish. Brad was waving some syringe, Ivan was holding him back, Tess looked small and young and terrified, trying to rip the syringe out of Bad’s hand. 

Then Harris was there, appearing through the fog in Arlin’s brain, he sat next to him on the bed, then he gently pulled Arlin towards him into a barely-there embrace, both because he knew Arlin didn’t like being touched, and because his ribs were broken. “This place is safe, Lin,” he said gently, “And we’ll figure it all out in a second, but if you keep pushing yourself we’ll never make it anywhere except a hospital--or a morgue.” 

“M-may-maybe th-that's all-alright?”Arlin whispered, fading already, still not used to being treated gently, in that the beating had made more sense to him than the hug, “Th-there’s things y’don’t k-know…” 

“We can talk about it,” Hari promised, gently laying Arlin back down and pulling the blanket over him, “But Brad is going to save your life right now, and I’ll be right here, just get some rest, it’s time to heal.” 

It was too good for Arlin to believe--even if he so badly wanted to.