#no. 30

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #30: "What have I done?" Captain America: Civil War (2016)

[one-piece-aus]

Hi again! I’m here for a double-dose (unsurprisingly) 😂 If it’s not taken yet, can I request Day 30: “It’s Ok Just to Say ‘I’m Not Ok,” + Trafalgar Law? Thank you in advance & happy whumping! ☕️🫖

Hello, dear Rose of Trafalgar! Thank you for your second request and your patience! I hope you enjoy this lil whump I've written! ^-^

Whumptober Day 30

Trafalgar Law x Reader

"Hey," you greet Law, brushing your fingers over his shoulder.

Law glances at you over his shoulder. "[Y/n]-ya, I thought you were helping the minks."

"We finished." You sat beside him on the log. "How are you holding up, Captain?"

Law averts his gaze, lowering his head back down. You notice the heavy bags resting under his eyes and bite your lip. He's been like this since he came from Dressrosa with the Strawhats. If only you'd been there, you might have been able to understand the weight on his back.

"Strawhat that bad?" you joked.

"No... it's not Strawhat-ya this time." Law shuts his eyes and reopens them, struggling against his exhaustion. "It's... It's Doflamingo."

"You guys defeated him, didn't you?"

"Yeah... yet somehow I feel more exhausted than ever before."

"Maybe it's because you're letting your body relax and it's hitting all at once," you theorize.

Law hums, his mind thinking otherwise. An image of Corazon sits in his head. Doflamingo may be out of the picture, but it didn't bring back Cora-san. He's still gone...

You sigh, seeing Law stubbornly stay awake. Here you thought your captain would be alright once Doflamingo was gone. It's fine.

Law got caught off guard when you moved closer. "Wait, [Y/n]-ya, what are you doing?"

"You need rest, captain," you told him as you picked him up bridal-style. "It's okay if you're not okay, but you'll need your strength, Law. So please, rest easy for now."

"What would I do without you, [Y/n]-ya..."

[collectivelycreative]

top 10 helpful headmates ever (4/18/26)

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 30- Recovery | Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears

This is another short one, but I hope you like it all the same!

Whumpee coughed themselves awake. They opened bleary eyes to fluorescent lights and a plain room. Something was strapped to their face. In addition, a quiet yet fast beeping came from somewhere nearby. Whumpee reached up to pull the thing- whatever it was- off of their mouth and nose. A gentle hand landed on theirs and moved it back to their side.

“Shh, Whumpee, baby, that has to stay on, okay?”

Whumpee turned their head.

“Caretaker?”

Their voice was muffled, and as they tried to speak, a few more harsh, wet coughs erupted from their chest.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Caretaker said, “don’t try to talk.”

Their eyes were red and puffy, they must have been crying. Why had they been crying? What was wrong?

“You’re in the hospital,” Caretaker went on, “you’ve been very sick, and I tried to take care of you from home, but you got worse, and I had to bring you here.”

Caretaker’s lower lip trembled, and Whumpee watched them swallow. They reached up a hand to their face. Caretaker leaned into the touch, letting out a shaky exhale.

“The doctors are giving you oxygen therapy, that’s what the mask on your face is for. It’s helping you breathe. You’ve- you’ve got an IV in your arm, and that’s giving you medicine. You’re gonna be okay- you-”

Caretaker bit back a sob. Whumpee wiped the tear that rolled down their cheek. They must have been in a really bad way for Caretaker to get so upset like this.

Whumpee opened their mouth to say something, but all that came out was another string of coughs. Their hand dropped back down to their side.

“Easy, easy,” Caretaker sniffled, “I told you, don’t try to talk.”

Whumpee weakly reached for Caretaker’s hand. Caretaker obliged and rubbed circles into Whumpee’s with their thumb.

…

Pneumonia, the doctors had said. A severe case. Caretaker was right to act when they did. Whumpee had almost died last night, it was a wonder they had woken up today at all. Caretaker hadn’t slept in twenty-three hours, but they didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Whumpee and their recovery.

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit

[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 30 - Mirror

Warnings: brief mention of child abuse, red room flashback

Word Count:1.9k

Summary: Natasha and Yelena run. Natasha tries to remember

A/N: one to goooooo

Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3

.

LONDON / OCTOBER 6/ 1:42PM

The ambulance, police and fire brigade come quicker than Natasha thought they would.

With eyes on Ysabel, and eyes on Yelena and Clint, she gives herself a headache looking around to try and gauge danger.

It feels impossible.

She hates it.

It feels so unsafe, with so many people around.

Tony falls and she watches Steve and Fury help, her legs start to towards them,

Ysabel’s watch beeps and Natasha is on her, ripping the watch away from her skin, to stamp on it, much to Ysabel’s chagrin.

“You think, a bomb?” she laughs, “just my time is up, and now I’m really defected.”

Natasha looks up.

They take away the dead bodies.

They’re bundling Tony into an ambulance. She feels so responsible. This is all her fault.

Her head pounds, vision fuzzy around the edges.

She’s no good to anyone.

She finds Fury in the crowd, and motions for him to come over.

“She’s first, take her?” she requests, the authority of the man makes her defer to him, but she’s not really sure why. Clint did, so she follows that lead.

Natasha decides that she wants to talk to Clint, get out of here, and if she can’t do the former then she’s set on doing the latter.

Fury motions for two agents, dressed in black and helmets to boot, to come over and take her; his face somber, blood still on the side of his head where one of the widows had knocked him out.

Ysabel is helped into standing, and looks at Natasha, face reddening from the slap.

“I’ll be in touch with a favour,” she announces.

“And in return I have a gift.”

Natasha looks at her sharply.

“What?”

“A gift, and a favour,” Ysabel tells her over her shoulder as she’s pushed into a waiting blacked out car.

Fury looks at Natasha, taking in her confusion and deeming it genuine.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

.

Yelena sighs.

It’s time to leave. She focuses her hurt and the deep longing she feels to stay, and be with people that maybe understand her.

Her head pounds, the sedative still pulsing through her system.

She thinks Clint knows she’s going to run, the frequent side glances to check that she’s there give his worry away.

There is so much going on. People everywhere and she’s too sedated to think through anything.

Ysabel is carted away, her head still high as they manhandle her into the back of a black van.

Two steps back and Yelena looks for a way out, she could steal a car, or maybe disappear into the tube station.

The tube seems easier, more options of escape perhaps, and even though the cameras in London are not something she wants to contend with, she knows that she’ll not stay long enough. The airport is easy to get to and she can easily steal a passport.

Another step back and she feels a hand on hers.

“Please don’t,” Natasha asks, looking at her intently.

“Please.”

It’s like no one is around them as Yelena stares at her.

The want and need to run feels overwhelming but her feet stay in place.

“We can find somewhere together, we don’t have to stay here,” Natasha assures looking around.

“Just… please don’t go.”

Yelena nods, isn’t this what she’s wanted since she was six years old? Time with her sister?

She looks around and sees Clint watching them.

He nods and moves around to guard their retreat.

He throws the phone to Yelena, and looks at Natasha.

Whatever is spoken in the looks and nods between them, Yelena doesn’t know, she trusts them though, and it’s a feeling that is both familiar and unfamiliar.

.

Natasha grabs Yelena’s hand and they move quickly to the station. The tube presents options and they both know it.

The phone that Clint threw to Yelena buzzes with a message and Yelena holds it up for Natasha to see.

An address.

“Do we go?” Yelena asks, taking two steps at a time down into the bowels of the train station.

Natasha nods slowly.

“You trust Clint?”

Yelena’s nod is slow.

“Then we go,” Natasha says definitively.

They catch the first train that comes, and navigate their way to Watford.

The safe house is nestled in between townhouses and doesn’t look like anything special.

The whole ride, neither Natasha or Yelena spoke, both lost in the last 5 days, every time Yelena had gone to say something she’d looked over and seen Natasha’s quiet contemplation and stopped herself.

All the questions she wanted to ask.

All lost.

This woman. This stranger.

All the time lost between them and everything she wanted to ask her, taken from her; again.

Her heavy sigh as she walks through the door doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha who looks so beaten, she doesn’t want to know how much it hurts.

“Clint will find us here, and probably the rest of shield if he tells them,” Yelena starts, unable to keep quiet.

“Do you think they’ll take Ysabel somewhere bad?”

It’s a fear she has, captured by the enemy or captured by the Red Room, both make her want to keep running as neither are good options.

The red room always drummed it into them.

Natasha shrugs.

Of course she doesn’t know. That information is lost along with her mind.

Isn’t that the more terrifying thing?

Not knowing who to trust?

Or maybe, it’s instinct.

“What do you remember?” She asks, sitting at the bench table of the kitchen, the tall bar chairs seemingly more inviting than the couch.

The couch seems more like somewhere they’d sit and reminisce on good times, the kitchen feels more like they’re making a plan.

Natasha opens the fridge, nothing appealing.

She opens a cupboard and takes the peanut butter out, and the dry crackers that sits alongside them.

Yelena stifles a smile.

Just like Clint.

Her movements mirror his, just days ago.

Even down to offering her one.

She takes it.

Natasha is quiet, Yelena is learning, and much like when they were children, she doesn’t rush to speak unless she has thought through all the consequences of her words.

Yelena remembers her doing it as a kid, she knew what would set off Alexei, and how to manipulate Melina into what doing what she wanted.

She was talented in her verbal manipulation.

“I remember bits of many things,” Natasha decides on.

“Okay,” Yelena sighs, “what do you remember of me?”

She asks flat out, she wants to know so much, anything that Natasha is willing to impart. She has no way of knowing if it is true or not but she wants it.

“There was a swing, when we were little,” Natasha starts, “we used to go on it and take turns when they wanted us out of the house. When people used to come over.”

Yelena nods.

“Melina and Alexei,” she offers, “they posed as our parents.”

Natasha whispers their names.

“Yes. Alexei. I hated him.”

Yelena’s heart sinks. She didn’t.

He was the only father figure she’d ever known. A man of flaws, and someone who reacted purely on instinct but someone that she’d idolised.

“Why?”

Natasha looks over, wondering if she’d said something wrong; Yelena’s voice so small.

“It’s okay,” she decides, pushing aside the memories of being hit when he was drunk, or taking a beating after ushering Yelena outside.

“Melina too?” Yelena asks.

“I don’t have many memories of her, now anyway,” Natasha responds.

“What about…” Yelena pauses.

“What happened after we got split up?”

Yelena feels her voice get desperate.

“Did you look for me?”

Her voice breaks, and Natasha is by her side holding her head and pushing their heads together in comfort.

She speaks Russian, finding the words easier to grasp as she assures Yelena that she looked for her.

“I tried so hard.”

Natasha twists her hands, forcing herself to breathe.

“The compound they sent me to,” Natasha pauses, trying to grasp the memories as they pound through her head.

“They put a guard on me and another girl, every time I tried to escape or stepped out of line, she’d get beaten, and every time she did anything they deemed as out of order, I would.”

Natasha swallows, hating the memory of her friend bruised and bloody.

“I mean, they killed her anyway, but I didn’t stop, and I never forgot.”

Yelena doesn’t look up.

Natasha wipes at her face and gets up off the chair, looking in the cupboards.

“They sent me into isolation. Then, when I was so desperate for someone, anyone to talk to, they gave me to adults, to learn. I thought someone would come. Someone might save me. I think it took a year or so before I realised no one was coming.”

She sniffs and lets her tears fall.

“I feel I had so much to tell you,” Natasha starts, “so much that just feels lost by whatever it is they gave me. That they knew we’d be here and they’ve ruined it again.”

“It’ll come back,” Yelena assures, but even she isn’t sure it’s the truth.

.

Natasha stares at herself in the mirror, touching her face gently, the bruising more greenish than the deep blue green it was.

Yelena cried herself to sleep, and Natasha stayed awake, gently pulling her closer and stroking her hair, just like she remembered she had done when they were small.

Her breathing had evened out and Natasha had covered her with a blanket.

She was too wired to sleep.

She kept going over the events of the day, the people she’d met, and the ones who had seemed so pleased to see her.

She thinks of Diana, and hope she’s okay. Clint had assured she was, that she was with a friend he trusted.

Natasha finds a toothbrush under the sink, and brushes her teeth, spitting blood and hoping that her teeth are okay.

She washes her face, ties up her hair and looks at herself again.

Who was she without her memories?

So much was lost.

Only bad things seemed to remain.

The persistent headache that plagued her still hadn’t gone and she still felt nauseous

Was this always her?

Natasha looks out into the lounge room, listens for Yelena’s breathing and heads back into the kitchen.

The mobile buzzes, and she looks to see Clint has messaged three times.

She opens the first, asking if they made it.

The second message tells her that he’s stuck in debrief and will meet them in the morning, and the third tells them that Ysabel escaped.

Natasha wants to call him, ask what happened but she knows that if she did it would wake Yelena.

Likely it can wait until morning.

She sends a question mark as a message, and after a minute, sends another message letting him know they arrived safe and that Yelena was asleep.

“I’m glad she stayed.” Is his reply.

“Me too,” she writes back.

“Are you feeling okay?” He types back.

She’s not sure how to answer.

“I need some sleep,” she decides on, “Where are you?”

Clint takes a moment to reply.

“Debrief. I’ll be done by sunrise.”

She smiles at that, the bruises on her face pull.

“Will you come here afterwards?”

It takes ten minutes for him to reply and she imagines him in a dark room, getting interrogated and feels the anxiety in him doing it alone.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just have a couple of things left to do. Keep Yelena there. Get some sleep and I’ll be there soon.”

Natasha feels heavy.

Heavy with sleep, as she settles down on the bed.

Heavy heart as she checks Yelena is still sleeping.

Heavy soul, as memories pound in the darkness.

.

[sondersalem]

i dont deserve good things do i?

[idyllictranquility]

recently getting into undertale (yeah yeah ik its like super popular online and has been around for a while but im young and just recently exploring new fandoms) and oml...

I love papyrus so much

I always saw those videos of the weird sans fangirls but like.. i am fangirling over this guys brother

this literal skeleton is so funny love the guy

and not in like a "i wanna date him" way its more so in a "i need this man as my best friend"

currently watching a neutral route playthrough and they kept him alive so i know im going to be screaming whenever i watch a genocide playthrough lmao..