#no. 8

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #8: "Isolation Chamber" Captain America: Civil War (2016)

[iceclew]

He felt cute, might delete later.

I won't let him :3

[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.

(GIF by @userpeggycarter)

Whumptober 2025: Day 8 - Dissociation

Warnings: dissociation

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Natasha has dreams, worries and anxiety about who she is.

Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3

.

LONDON / OCTOBER 03 / 12:23AM

“I don’t think I can stay here,” the woman tells her.

“I think, I feel I’m putting you at risk.”

Diana puts down her book at stares at the woman in the doorway. Just past midnight but the house had been quiet for hours.

She looks so pale.

“Did you remember something?”

The woman looks away.

“We don’t have to call you Stephanie, like Willow suggested. But she will go through that whole names book until you tell her not to.”

“I think my name is Natasha.”

Diana sits up at that.

“Come, sit, I’ll make some tea.”

In the light, the woman, Natasha; looks even worse.

“You had a bad dream, didn’t you?”

A tear escapes and Diana looks around for a tissue; she didn’t mean to be so confrontational.

Natasha sits and stares for a moment.

“I don’t think I was a good person. Or maybe I was a bad child? I think I had a sister and maybe parents? But they didn’t seem like good people either.”

Diana pushes the kettle on to boil, and pulls out some chocolate biscuits.

“Hang on. Do you want to talk about this? Because maybe start from the start. Dreams have funny way of making things seem distorted. But when we say them out loud, they lose their power or weirdness.”

She gives a reassuring half smile.

“It’s what I tell Willow anyway.”

Natasha pauses.

She must have been asleep.

“I think I fell asleep. My head. It hurts, I try and remember, something, anything about who I was or how I got here, but then I seem to just black out. It’s like my brain tries to override the pain.”

Diana nods.

“What were you thinking about before bed?”

Natasha looks down at her drink.

Diana wonders if it was a personal question.

“I wondered if I had parents. Or siblings.”

They lapse into easy silence.

“I was in a house, there were fireflies and a little girl fell over. She called out to me and called me Nat. Then there was a woman and man, then it got weird. We were running and then we were on a plane. People were shooting at us.”

Natasha shrugs.

“They called me Natasha a couple of times. I think it’s my name?”

“Does it feel right?” Diana asks.

“I think so.”

Natasha doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Why do you think you’re dangerous?”

“I just am.”

Her voice is quiet now.

“I think whoever and whatever that mask is. I’m part of it…”

Diana thinks back, remembering the fear of the people within the building and how scary they looked. She hoped she was not wrong. That this woman was not part of whatever they were a part of.

“They were outside the window. Dressed in military gear and working together, do you think they were looking for you?”

Natasha looks up to meet her eyes.

“Maybe. Maybe I need to find them to find out who I am?”

Diana doesn’t think it sounds right, but she has to admit that she doesn’t know either.

“Okay. So what would you do? Where would you go first?”

There’s a pause, she clearly doesn’t know.

Diana puts her hand gently on top of Natasha’s and waits until she looks up.

“How about, tomorrow, we take a drive and see what you can remember about this place? Maybe there was a hotel you were at? Maybe we can visit a doctor. We can tell them what you want, and maybe they can give us some advice. I can tell them you’re my friend from overseas? They should probably look and give you some more antibiotics for the shoulder anyway. Maybe they can give us some answers on the concussion and your memory loss.”

She squeezes her hand.

“I know lack of sleep isn’t going to help.”

Natasha nods and swallows.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

“You can have your bed back,” she offers.

Diana smiles.

“I’m fine out here. I still think you need it more than me and Willow will wake me. Plus Wolfie needs his morning walk, and I’d prefer not to have to wake you with both of them, if I don’t have to.”

Doe eyes stare at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, unsure what else to say.

“I really am. I know I should leave but I genuinely have no idea what to do next. Who to call. What I should be doing. And I know, you need to work, you can’t stay here with me,” her voice cracks.

“I’m just sorry.”

Diana isn’t sure if the woman is a hugging type, but she pulls her into one regardless.

“It’s okay,” she promises, rubbing her back.

“I promise. We’ll figure it out.”

.

Natasha stares at her hands.

Like Diana said, she should be sleeping. All she can think of is her dreams. What she didn't say.

She was holding a gun.

Assembling it and disassembling it.

She was shooting targets and then the targets were not targets.

She moves to the bathroom and turns on the shower. Staring at herself in the mirror her face warps, little girl, teenager, adult.

Why can't she remember?

She touches the top of her wound and the bruising around it.

Her body is not her own.

The words are in the back of her mind and she doesn't like the connotations.

You belong to the Red Room.

The Red Room is your home.

She vomits in the sink and hopes that it's a side effect of the concussion.

The Red Room.

It's a clue.

The shower is inviting in in warmth and she steps in, looking at her body again. The bruising, the scars.

There's memories in each of them but she can't hold onto anything.

Her hands shake.

The shower is cold.

How much time had she just lost? It had been happening more and more, little instances of dissociation and she think it held clues to what plagued her the most.

Natasha dries herself slowly, the towel still not dry from the shower only hours before. She knew she owed this woman probably more than she could ever repay.

Getting changed again, she lays on the bed and sighs.

There had been so many moments that had made her lose time. She think that Diana noticed, but maybe Willow hadn't.

Moments that had made her consciously have to orient back, and in her heart she knew that she'd probably had a lifetime of it.

.

[small-sinclair]

Whumptober Day 8: Sleep Deprivation

Rogue, Gambit, Kurt x mute human!reader (Plotinic)

Isolation Chamber

Part 2

Gambit kept his eye on the door, blinking becoming a chore now. Rogue had her head resting on his lap, sleeping soundly and breathing slow, and his arm protectively wrapped around Kurt. His blue skin and his fluffy fur were covered in grim and matted, but Gambit still made small circles on his back. Sleeping against his chest was you, their little human they all promised to protect, with his long coat draped over your shoulder. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time when officers took them to a holding cell with no windows.

Their little human...that’s what they called you when they were thrown into this chamber with blinking collars around their necks. He couldn’t use his powers to blast the door down. Rogue couldn’t take strength from the guards to fight. Nightcrawler couldn’t teleport away for help. You didn’t need the collar, but you still weren’t trusted.

One by one, each fell asleep against Gambit’s warmth. With each closing eyes, Gambit stayed alert more and more as time passed. He felt sleep calling for him, but he didn’t give in. The moment they are all asleep, something could happen, or someone will come in and harm them. It’s not fair to you; you’re a human being, not a mutant. But what makes a human being a human? There is no such thing as normal or finding a meme about the mutant world. It’s the hand they’re dealt that changes and determines fates, not by some grace of something higher than him.

He could hear Kurt argue with him about it. The minister was good in the faith; even as he slept against Gambit, crawled like a cat, he gripped his wooden prayer beads tight. He fell asleep mid-prayer, his voice fading until the murmurs turned into soft snores. The blue fuzz ball was always right about something, so why can’t he believe him this once? Leave his faith up to any god who’s listening or paying attention to them in this silent cell.

His other hand fell on Rogue, brushing her hair out of her face. Gambit felt his heart clinch and ache. He felt her hand in his earlier, and he nearly dropped to his knees in tears. Her skin is just as he imaged: soft, smooth, and warm. He wanted to feel her hands forever, and he was almost thankful for these collars that turned off their powers. He was able to kiss her goodnight without her feeling fear of hurting him or draining his strength. It would be worth it even if she did. Just to feel her close to him, his hand in hers, holding her cheek, kissing those sweet southern bell lips...all of it would be worth it. It would be worth it for her.

But she’s suffering and scared. That’s what hurts him the most. The moment he gets his hands on a key, he’ll get her out of here.

Then there’s you, the little human sleeping against his chest under his jacket. He didn’t know what to make of you when he first met you, and he still hasn’t made an opinion on you. You’re hard to read, which didn’t worry the gambler all too much, but he needed to know what side you’re on. For the most part of you being in this chamber, you kept to yourself and stayed quiet. He didn’t understand it because he thought you would be asking question after question, but your voice was never heard. To come and think of it, you didn’t make a sound when you were caught with them. You didn’t even tell them your name! Where he’s from, not giving a name or something to call you by meant you’re hiding something and have a lot to lose.

His eye lids grew heavy as they lingered over you, but he shook his head and looked up at the door. He didn’t know what was going to come next. Whatever it was, he’ll make sure to keep everyone safe. Though he’s the black sheep of the X-Men and in this room, he cared about everyone and worried. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. He was terrified! But he kept his cards close to his chest and waited for whatever thought could hurt them. Gambit felt so tired and sleepy, but he forced his blood-shot eyes to stay open. He could feel bags under his eyes grow deeper and deeper as he looked forward.

Don’t sleep now, swamp rat, he heard a voice warn, they need you. They need you. Stay awake a little while longer. They need you to watch over them.

He rested his head against the wall and looked up at the empty ceiling. He'll stay awake until one of them wakes up. He'll do that for them, for you.

He felt you shift and your eyes meeting his. He could see his black and deep red eyes reflecting back at him, reminding him how little he was to you. “Go t’sleep, petit,” his said lowly. “Ya need sleep.” He gave you reassuring smile but he even though he knew he wasn’t fooling you. “I’ll be ‘right. Ain’t nothin’ Gambit can’t handle.”

Your dull eyes didn’t waver from him as if you were trying to say something through your thoughts. You shook your head and pointed at yourself then pointed at him, folding your hands under head and acting like you were sleeping, then pointed at him once more.

He blinked twice and lifted a brow. “What’re ya goin’ on about?” He watched you repeat the motion. “Can’t ya talk?” You shook your head. “Shit, dat makes sense, petit.” Gambit bit his lower lip and shook his head. “I’ll be ‘right. Told you already, mon ami.”

Again, you shook your head. In his eyes, you could see how tired he was. The fight in front of your little store was a rough one, and knowing that he’s forcing himself to stay awake wasn’t healthy for him or for everyone in this chamber. The steel door was haunting, cold, and unforgiving to look at. You looked back at him and nodded, looking at him as if you were saying “everything’s okay now”. He was fighting to stay awake, but your warm hand slipped under his jaw and your thumb made small circles.

Gambit found himself leaning into the touch, closing his eyes as he did. The tension in his body was fading and his head resting in Kurt’s hair. It felt like a pillow—

“No,” he whispers, murmuring his words tired and slurred. Gambit forces his head back up and blinked away the sleepiness. He was fighting it, fighting to stay awake. He’s X-Men; he has to protect you. Your eyes looked at him with a mixture of hurt and disappointment, a look someone gave him when he was a boy. “S’il te plait, petit. I’ll be alright. Dors, s’il te plait.”

Defeated, you nod and laid your head back down on his chest. He watched as you drift back to sleep, envying of your dreams. Gambit shifts his eyes back at the steel door once more and took a deep breath. He'll stay awake as long as his body is willing. Even after that, he’ll burn the other end of the candle to stay awake. He’ll keep you safe along with his friends. It’s the least he can do. It’s all he can do.

[aviel]

Hilma af Klint - The Ten Largest, No. 8, Adulthood (1907)

[abwwia]

Georgia O’Keeffe, Series I, No. 8, 1919 Oil on canvas, 51 x 41 cmStädtische Galerie im Lenbachhausund Kunstbau Munich, Gift of theGeorgia O’Keeffe Foundation© Städtische Galerie im Lenbach-haus und Kunstbau Munich

Georgia O’Keeffe on view at the Fondation Beyeler https://contemporarylynx.co.uk/georgia-okeeffe-on-view-at-the-fondation-beyeler

Georgia O’Keeffe (1887-1986)

Georgia Totto O’Keeffe (Nov 15, 1887 – Mar 6, 1986) was an American modernist artist. O’Keeffe has been called the “Mother of American moder

[serickswrites]

Wake Me Up

Warnings: captivity, restraints, non con drugging, creepy/intimate whumper

"Wake up, Whumpee," Whumper cooed as they stroked along Whumpee's cheek.

Whumpee opened their eyes blearily. They could feel the soft rope on their wrists and ankles keeping them from moving. They were so tired. They knew it was the drugs Whumper had given them. But still, they had to fight to keep their eyes open.

"You have to stay awake, Whumpee," Whumper said with a smile. "I grow tired of watching you sleep. You won't like me if you make me cross."

Whumpee's heart pounded. They knew they should be afraid. They knew Whumper would do awful things to them. But they were so tired.

"You are so much prettier this way, Whumpee," Whumper said as they kissed Whumpee's cheek. "But you have to stay awake, Whumpee. If you fall asleep on me again, I will have to punish you."

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "F-F-Five mmmmminutesssss."

Whumper pinched Whumpee's arm hard. "No. You are to be awake now or I will not be nice at all."

Whumpee fought against the urge to close their eyes and sleep more. They fought because they could hear Whumper's anger. Could hear the certain promise that Whumper would hurt them. But they were so tired.

"If you close your eyes one more time, Whumpee, you will wish you had never been born. I will hurt you so much and for so long you will be begging me to end it for days. Do I make myself clear?" Whumper's voice was low and full of rage.

"Yessssss," Whumpee managed to say. They had to stay awake. They couldn't bear to pay the consequences.

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