#no. 20

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #20: "Permission to Die" Gladiator (2000)

[collectivelycreative]

Thank you, Purple, for carrying the weight of this huge rack. (4/20/26)

PT under cut

Thank you, Purple, for carrying the weight of this huge rack. (4/20/26)

[theultimatespicysandwich]

Whumptober No. 20: "That's New."

Symptomatic | Fancy Event | Resignation

Whumpee brought their knees close to their chest, curled up on the floor in the corner of their room. As much as it didn't look like it, their room was a prison.

The soft silk sheets and pillows on the bed threatened to choke them every night. The designer clothing, tailor made to fit them, itched and poked in uncomfortable places, and showed off more skin than Whumpee was comfortable with. Even the view of the mountains outside, breathtaking in any other circumstance, was ruined by the bars crisscrossing the window.

They flinched as they heard the door unlock, Whumper stepping into the room.

"Hello, darling." Whumper smiled, then frowned as they saw Whumpee on the floor.

"Why are you down there?" they asked.

Whumpee shrugged in response, refusing to meet Whumper's gaze. "It was comfortable."

Whumper sighed, shaking their head. "I don't have time for your antics today." They grabbed Whumpee's arm and not-so-gently led them over to the vanity.

"Sit," Whumper said. Whumpee did, knowing it was pointless to resist. They tried to keep from tensing up as Whumper started brushing their hair.

"I'm throwing a party tonight," Whumper said. "I would love for you to attend with me, if you promise to behave."

Confusion crossed Whumpee's face. They hadn't been allowed to see anyone since Whumper took them. Other than the sounds of servants in the halls, Whumper was the only actual contact they'd had in weeks. Could this be a chance to get some help? Or was this another sick, twisted way for Whumper to show off their "love" for them?

"What kind of party?" Whumpee asked.

"A masquerade ball, actually. All of our closest friends will be there, and they can't wait to meet you."

Whumper set the brush down and held Whumpee's chin, forcing them to look in the mirror. "So darling? What's it going to be?"

"Ok," they said. "I'll...join you."

"Excellent!" Whumper clapped their hands and sped out of the room. "I'll be back with your outfit shortly. You're going to look breathtaking."

~~~

As the evening drew near, Whumpee hoped their theory about finding help proved true. Otherwise this was going to be a very long night.

Whumper had dressed them entirely in gold. A long skirt that they kept almost tripping over, a vest that seemed to constrict their breathing, and glittering chains that dangled from their neck and wrists. The worst were the shoes: heels that were too tight and caused Whumpee to wobble when they walked, forcing them to hold onto Whumper's arm to avoid falling down. At least the mask wasn't too bad, just itchy lace around their eyes.

As they entered the ballroom, all eyes turned to face them. Whumpee nervously scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of a trustworthy face. They felt Whumper's grip tighten on their arm. "Don't be scared, darling," they whispered. "Now put on a smile, and let's have some fun."

The forced smile sustained itself through endless conversation with Whumper's friends and associates. Whumper relished in showing them off, eliciting endless commentary and praise from their guests.

"That's new! Wherever did you find them? I should look into getting one myself."

It was torture. Not the physical kind they had been subjected to in the past, but a siphon, slowly draining their hope with each passing minute. Eventually Whumper placed them at a table, allowing them to sit for a moment while their captor went off to discuss business with some friends. In their absence, Whumpee felt the tears start to gather, grateful for the mask to hide some of them.

"Rough night?" One of the servers approached with a glass of water.

Whumpee cleared their throat. "Yes, I...I guess you could say that." They took the water gratefully. "Thank you," they smiled, for the first time genuinely.

"Of course," the server said, hesitating. "Forgive me if I'm out of place, but I couldn't help but notice you attended with Whumper."

Whumpee nodded, the smile fading as their blood ran cold.

"I'm a servant, here," Their voice dropped to a whisper. "I know what they've done to you."

Whumpee's eyes grew wide. Not knowing how much time they had, they spilled their water on the ground. "Oh, how clumsy of me," they said, leaning down. Thankfully the servant got the message, and leaned down as well.

"Please help me," Whumpee whispered.

The servant nodded. "I'll do the best I can. Some of the others can help, too. We all know what Whumper's like, what they've done."

"Why now?" Whumpee couldn't help but ask.

"Whumper had you too close before, it was too risky to try and free you without risking our lives and your safety. But if they're showing you off now, we might have a chance to act soon."

The tears came back, but this time they were filled with hope. "Thank you." They extended their hand. "I'm Whumpee."

"Caretaker," the servant said, returning the handshake. As footsteps approached, Caretaker raised their voice. "I'm so incredibly sorry for the mess, I'll get it cleaned up right away."

Whumpee felt themselves get pulled away from Caretaker and spun into the arms of Whumper.

"I was wondering where you'd run off to." Whumper held them close, possessively.

"J-just getting a drink of water," Whumpee stammered, resisting the urge to fight Whumper's grip. "I was clumsy and I spilled some, that's all."

"Mhm, I'm sure." Whumper thought for a moment, then escorted Whumpee out of the party and off towards their room.

"We'll only be gone a moment!" They called, before slamming the door shut behind them.

"D-did I do something wrong?" Whumpee asked as they approached their room.

"Of course not, darling," Whumper cooed. "I just realized how beautiful you are." As they entered the room, Whumper went into the closet and pulled out a box. Whumpee froze as Whumper opened it, revealing a full-faced white and gold porcelain mask.

"In fact, you're so beautiful, I don't think anyone else deserves to see you. At least, not all of you."

Whumper grabbed Whumpee and forced the new mask onto their face. Quickly Whumpee realized the catch to their situation. The eye and mouth holes were decorative, as Whumpee felt their vision being taken from them and a gag entering their mouth as the mask went over their face. Whumper tightened the straps in the back, locking them into place.

"Perfect." Whumpee felt Whumper caress the mask on their face and let loose every curse word they knew, only coming out in garbled mmphs.

Whumper laughed, grabbing their helpless captive's arm and escorting them out of the room. "Let's go back to the party, shall we?"

[serickswrites]

Falling Stars

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, blood, wounds, infection, mcd

Caretaker carded their fingers through Whumpee's sweat soaked hair. They had pulled Whumpee into their lap hours ago and had tried to offer Whumpee any measure of comfort, no matter how small.

It was the least they could do.

They had sat chained in a corner for days, watching Whumper torture Whumpee. Begging Whumper to give Whumpee a break and hurt them. Hoping that rescue would come soon and they would both be spared.

But as the days wore on and the blood dried on Whumpee's skin and Whumper re-opened every wound, Caretaker began to doubt. They began to doubt help was coming. They began to doubt Whumper would hurt them. And they began to doubt that Whumpee would survive.

Some of Whumpee's wounds still bled from Whumper's last visit. Some wounds oozed and wept. And some were so deep that Caretaker was certain Whumpee was dying. And soon.

"You......you need to......get out of here, C'ta'r," Whumpee managed to rasp out. "G-G-G-Go outttttt th-th-th-the wwwwwwinnnnndow-ow-ow-ow."

"I'm not leaving you," Caretaker said as they stared down into Whumpee's fever bright eyes. "Just rest a bit longer. We'll find a way to get both of us out of here." Caretaker blinked hard, fighting against the tears that were always present in their eyes. They looked away as they tried to blink away the tears. The starry night's sky winked at them from out the window.

Whumpee smiled softly. "I.....I don't th-th-think sssso-o-o-o-o."

"Nonsense. Just rest more. Rest and then I'll take you home. You can rest more. You can heal. And maybe....maybe you will be all better by the time all those falling stars happen around your birthday. We could watch them again."

"I'd.....like th-th-that."

"Just rest, Whumpee. Close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."

"C-C-Can'ttttt l-l-l-leave yyyyyyou-ou-ou."

Caretaker's heart twinged. "It's ok. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. Just rest, Whumpee. I'll watch over you."

Reluctantly, Whumpee closed their eyes. Caretaker knew that no amount of rest was going to make Whumpee well enough. But they couldn't give up hope. They couldn't let Whumpee die. Not yet. There had to be a way for both of them to get out.

But as time wore on and Whumpee got weaker and weaker, Caretaker realized that Whumpee was holding on, was prolonging their suffering, to spare Caretaker the heart ache.

Whumper had dragged Whumpee from their arms countless times. Whumper had beaten and tortured Whumpee countless times. And Whumper had left Whumpee barely alive and breathing on the floor countless times.

But this time was different.

Whumpee hadn't stirred when the cell door slammed shut. They hadn't stirred when Caretaker called to them. Normally Whumpee slowly dragged themself close enough that Caretaker could pull them into Caretaker's lap. But this time they just lay there and breathed.

"Whumpee," Caretaker called softly. "Say something, Whumpee."

Whumpee groaned. "T-T-Tiredddd. H-H-Hurrrrrttts-s-s-s-s."

"I know. I know, Whumpee. Let me hold you. You've always slept better in my arms. Come on, Whumpee."

Caretaker stretched to the end of their chain, their fingertips just brushing Whumpee's arm. Whumpee moaned as they tried to roll onto their side. Blood had pooled beneath them and the ground was slick. Whumpee was too weak to pull themself along.

"Love, come on, you can do it."

Slowly, painfully, Whumpee rolled onto their side. They managed to push themself with one leg close enough to Caretaker that Caretaker could pull them close. Whumpee gasped with pain as Caretaker moved them, their eyes wide and bright with pain.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm sorry!" Caretaker repeated over and over.

Whumpee didn't respond as their chest heaved weakly. They lay in Caretaker's arms, but couldn't get enough air to speak. Their eyes were hazy with pain. Their eyelids fluttered open and closed as they struggled to remain conscious.

"I'm sorry, Whumpee. I'm sorry," Caretaker sobbed. They pressed their forehead to Whumpee's. "It's ok. It's ok. You can leave me. It's ok. I'll be ok. I promise."

Whumpee blinked up at Caretaker, their eyes suddenly clear. Caretaker nodded. "It's ok. You can rest. You can leave me. I'll be ok. I promise I'll be ok. You can," Caretaker sniffed, "you can go, Whumpee. I'm here. I won't leave you."

Whumpee's stuttering wheezing breaths echoed in Caretaker's ears. They opened their mouth, but no sound came out. "It's ok, Whumpee. It's ok. I love you. You're ok, love. I'll be ok."

Slowly, Whumpee's eyes closed. Their body slowly relaxed in Caretaker's arms. Their stuttering breaths continued as Caretaker watched Whumpee relax. A light flashed in the darkened cell. Caretaker looked up and out the window. Stars. The stars were falling out the window.

"The falling stars are here, Whumpee, look," Caretaker said as they returned their gaze to Whumpee. Their mouth went dry. "Whumpee?"

Whumpee looked peaceful, as though they were asleep, their face no longer pinched with pain. But Caretaker knew better. "Oh, Whumpee," Caretaker wailed, "I am so sorry. I'm sorry."

Whumpee flopped bonelessly in Caretaker's arms as Caretaker lifted Whumpee close. They rocked with Whumpee's body as they sobbed. Whumpee was free. Whumpee had gone. Whumpee had left Caretaker behind. Whumpee had gone where Caretaker could not follow. Whumpee was with the falling stars. And Caretaker was alone.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[janetm74fics]

That's New…Or Not

@womble1 asked: @whumptober 2025: No. 20: "That's New." | Fancy Event | Resignation with John

~

John sighed.

He was resigned to his fate by now. Whatever ladder he’d accidently walked under the day Penny had decided that he was her best friend…no, her second-best friend. Despite whatever their other brothers said – Gordon – Scott would always be her first best friend, they just didn’t get much time to spend together anymore…whatever ladder John had walked under had certainly had its fun in triplet.

A part of him longed for their carefree college days, where Scott was burdened only by getting his degree and going into the USAF and not the whole world and their family…

John sighed again.

Hmm…maybe he could get Scott to go to this fancy event instead of him…

Perking up, John pressed a button and appeared on the desk in the lounge where Scott was supposed to be working on reports. He wasn’t really surprised that his first sight was of his brother’s hair…

‘Scott?’

There was some satisfaction in how Scott’s head shot up, but it was fleeting as John took in just how exhausted his brother actually was, clear even over the holos. He could see the red rim of his eyes clearly. There was no way he'd be asking Scott to swap now.

‘John? Oh, sorry.’ ‘Don’t be. I just wanted to say that I’ll be heading home in a minute. EOS has Five and everything is all set. ‘Oh, is it that time already?’ ‘Scott…do you think you should go to bed?’ ‘I will, John. I promise. Just got to get this report done.’ ‘Ok. I’ll see you in five.’ ‘FAB.’

Unsurprisingly Scott was at his desk when John arrived and barely looked up as John made his way to his room. His brother did look up when John re-entered fully dressed in his tux.

Scott looked at his brother, a smile playing around his lips. He could say so many things right now, be that annoying older brother he sometimes delighted to be, but he knew how much John hated social anything.

‘Looking good, Johnny.’ ‘Don’t call me Johnny…but thanks.’ ‘You got your comms?’

John fingered the stud in his ear. After the last time he’d attended one of Penny’s affairs and the subsequent…hostage situation, Brains had refined the comms system to miniature and now John had a fake earring.

‘Yeah. Not sure how I feel about the earring.’ ‘I like it. Just…don’t make it permanent.’ ‘Wasn’t planning to. Can’t say that the teenies won’t want to when they see them.’ ‘Heh. Gordon will…Gordon. Alan – no way.’ ‘Maybe I should show them the picture of you when…’ ‘Finish that sentence and I guarantee you’ll be headlining at TI’s Christmas party this year.’

Scott may have decided to play nice but that didn’t mean John had to…

With an impish smile John saluted his brother and stepped out of the villa, climbing into the waiting FAB1 and Penny.

The ‘fancy event’ that Penny had once again talked him into attending was another charity event. No auction this time, just a seven-course dinner and socialising.

John blinked.

The room was filling up with the finest dressed from around the world. But instead of being surrounded and harassed like last time all John got was polite nods and smiles.

And he found himself relaxing.

He’d been sat with Penny and Lady Dianne Simms and a man who had been introduced as Colonel Paul Metcalfe. The four of them were also joined by an older couple. Conversations were light and flowed as well as the courses did.

Penny nudged his foot halfway through the fourth course, a small circlet of sea bass tartare which John had been surprised to find he actually liked, and he smiled at her. She whispered as she ate.

‘You look like you’re enjoying yourself.’ ‘I am!’ ‘How does it feel?’ ‘New. That’s new. No one’s shooting at us, no one is…no one is talking at me…thank you, Penny.’ ‘Darling, you’re welcome.’

The door into the room swung open with a clang.

Conversation stopped and all eyes turned to the masked men pouring into the room. Guns appeared and John sighed.

‘Do as we say and no one will get hurt. Wallets, watches, phones…anything of value on the table and then line up against the wall.’

There were predictable grumbles but most attendees did as they were told. However there were some who stood there and flatly refused – something that John was not surprised about.

What he was surprised was when the gunmen, instead of shooting just the protestors, fired indiscriminately into the crowd.

He looked down at the blood splattering his white tux and turned haunted eyes to Penny as he tore the jacket off and used it to push down on the bullet hole in Colonel Metcalfe’s belly.

‘Not so new after all, Pen.’

[quietlyimplode]

Everything in Transit

An accident leaves Natasha without her memories, without anyone to guide her, and the Red Room chasing after her, the odds are not in her favour… unless those that love her find her first.

Whumptober 2025: Day 20 - Resignation

Warnings: red room badness, child soldier references.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Natasha has to decide on her next move, with the cognitive dissonance hitting hard.

Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3

.

PARIS/ OCTOBER 04/ 13:43PM

The loss of hours doesn’t seem like a big thing but Natasha knows it is.

She’s so stuck in her next move that she can’t even fathom what to do next.

All she has is memories, facts and things in between that don’t make sense.

And all that it’s led her to is an inability to move forward.

America or London?

If she leaves for America on a stolen passport, she needs to find someone to doctor it.

London and it’s back to being hunted but even in that it gives her more answers than she had.

Maybe Francesca is right.

Maybe she does belong in the Red Room with the other widows.

Reprogrammed.

Surely knowing something is better than this black void of emptiness that seems so encompassing.

She only has clues about who she is.

In her heart, she wants to believe that she’s not a bad person, but the evidence is in contrary.

The Avengers?

What business of that was hers?

The word superhero showed up a couple of times, in reference to the Avengers and she has to admit that she scoffed at that.

Maybe another shower would help.

A third for the day.

She’s glad she booked two nights.

Her face hurts.

Her body hurts and she just wants to curl up in the bed and sleep for a week.

What does it matter?

Who she is, or who she’s not, can probably wait.

The darkness can have her.

.

14:20PM

She can’t sleep.

Can’t think.

Can’t do anything.

She’s not hungry.

She drank the shower water and surely that counts as having something to hydrate her.

Her hands shake and her head pounds.

She needs to put a dressing on her shoulder.

If she dreams, will she dream of being an avenger or an assassin?

Both?

Neither?

America?

London?

Think, Natasha.

But she can’t hold a thought to save herself.

She stares at the wall and closes her eyes again.

.

“Natty?”

A little blonde girl takes her hand.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She stares, her hands not much bigger than the little girls in front of her.

“I’ll show you how to swing on the swing, it’s easy! My mum showed me once.”

An older woman stands over them.

She looks up hesitantly, asking silently for permission.

“Go ahead,” she says, “remember you’re sisters now.”

The little girl giggles happily, but all Natasha feels is apprehension.

She’s going to screw this up.

They’ll send her back.

She doesn’t want to go back.

Everything is so colourful here, the flowers- they don’t have flowers in the red room. They don’t have colour.

She nods to the little girl.

“What was your name again?”

“Yelena, but you can call me Lena, if that’s too hard?”

Natasha nods and sits beside her in the swing.

“My mum left me here and told me to be good. She was so sad about it, but I said I’d be okay. She needed to go the doctor, and they gave her money to go, I just had to stay here.”

Natasha looks at the girl sorrowfully.

Her mum is never coming back.

She looks to be about five or six and probably old enough to know that something is not right.

“Okay,” she placates.

“See if you can swing higher than me!”

15:57PM

Sweat beads down her back, the nightmare making her shiver, as images of girls being burnt is seared into her mind.

“This is where you go, and no one will miss you, unless you make it through training, and be the best you can be.”

The three lines of seven girls stare at the flames, the smell making one of them gag.

Natasha wakes to find her body in the present but her mind in the past.

It takes her far too long to orient herself to this room in Paris with the blackout blinds and vague smell of perfume.

None of this makes any sense.

All the memories she seems to have

If she was an avenger, why does she have no memories of it? Why are all her memories that of pain and suffering?

She stands to go to the toilet her body finally moving and obeying commands.

If she could remember the last week, maybe that would give her more context of who she was, maybe it would help her to make the decision of whether she went back to the red room like they do dearly wanted her to, or back to America.

The Americans it seems, did not care; the avengers aren’t looking for her.

And maybe that is her answer.

She slides back into the sweat soaked sheets and closes her eyes, thinking of a green monster, a man who boasted his citizenship as a right to war, a metal man who flew and man who fought aliens with arrows.

Inwardly she rolls her eyes.

If it was true, what had she gotten herself into?

.

18:18PM

A building explodes without her in it, she feels crushing guilt.

A man speaks over her grief and asks her if it’s done.

She agrees and watches herself be lead into a vent, police swarming the train station underneath them.

He’s so angry, and looks so familiar.

“You killed her?”

His grief now rivals her own.

How could he understand? She had to.

The dream morphs and feels restless as nothing changes, she’s not asleep or awake.

She’s in a basement in offices, handcuffed to a table.

A man with an eyepatch looks at her and bangs on the table, annoyed and angry.

Everyone is so angry and she doesn’t understand.

They should just hit her and get it over and done with.

Men and their anger.

She doesn’t get it.

Natasha feels herself wake up to the realisation that she doesn’t understand any parts of what her mind is trying to tell her.

She needs to go back.

She needs to understand why.

She needs to back to the last concrete memory and go from there.

Resignations sits heavily with her.

She should just run away. Become someone new.

Lean into the void that is her mind and start afresh.

But even as she thinks it, she knows she can’t.

She needs answers.

London.

She needs to go back to where it all began.

.

[newnosejar]

Smiley Clark!!!!!!!!!! the cutest