#mention of abduction

[worriedvision]

You lie to him - Wriothesley

Angst, gender neutral reader. A bit of a strange plot here - basically parents of reader are fatui agents and they try to get away from that. Wriothesley knows this, but unbenownst to him you hold back something serious.

There is a brief mention of children being snatched for experimentation. This is not graphic, however it is important for the story.

--

Receiving letters from your parents was a concern for you - your parents were both Fatui agents, devoted to the organisation and insisting you should turn to them. You never really liked it, how some innocent lives would be taken because of the Fatui - your earliest memory happened when you were out exploring by yourself.

--

People knew not to target you due to the insignia attached to your clothing, but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for another child. You had witnessed some of Dottores underlings snatching children that were clearly not attached to the Fatui, and based on the screams of the child they weren't going anywhere great. Before you could run along to protest, however, you felt a hand on your shoulder - your mother reassuring you the child was going to have a 'use'.

You didn't need to be a genius to know that was not true. Despite your concerns, however, you couldn't get any proper reassurance the child was fine whenever you asked your mother. From that point, you weren't permitted to leave the house alone. When you tried the first few times, you would be promptly dragged back to your home roughly, your parents punishing you once they get word of it happening.

Over time, you got smarter - you were taught by people who were good at their job, allowing you to read and write. When you caught wind of you being forcefully signed up by your parents when they left a letter out in the open - the two of them assuming you were too stupid to read and understand a letter - you made an elaborate plan to escape. You decide to play up the idea of not understanding anything your tutors were teaching you, attempting to buy you more time as you plan your escape, only to get impatient when you hear your parents talk gleefully about what you would be doing for the 'family' (you realise this was the company, not your own family).

One midnight, you run out under the blanket of night to sneak onto a boat. Bundled up with one bag to keep you going for at least a few weeks, you hope this boat takes you to a place where you can find where you belong.

That's how you met Wriothesley. More specifically, you were caught on the boat. Nobody on the boats team knew you, so you were handed over to Fontaine - thank goodness you had removed any evidence of being part of the Fatui. All insignias were off your person. You get sentenced to prison, which shocks you at the time. When you arrived, most of the folk around you were much older - as a child, that wasn't surprising for a prison. Nonetheless, you were scared.

However, one child was the same age as you. He seemed to be fidgety, but upon realising the new prisoner was around his age he was curious. With more conversations, you both grow closer. When you trust him enough to not tattle on you to the Fortress for a reduced sentence, he tells you his reason for being in prison. He was scared you would be disgusted, but you understand why he did what he did.

Upon becoming the new Administrator for the Fortress, you tell Wriothesley the real reason you were there. You had fled your parents house, knowing you'd be forced to help with the Fatuis plans, and Wriothesley smirks as he adds in a comment on how it explained how you didn't hate him when finding out his crime.

Everything was going so well between the two of you - everyone knew you were a couple, and everyone was supportive.

Unfortunately, the Fatui caught on to who you were. They send you letters, threatening to claim you the moment you slip up. Knowing you had nothing linking you to them, you weren't worried. Wriothesley didn't know about this, assuming everything was going well as you continued to try and evade capture by your parents.

Ironically, it's Wriothesley who slips up. He doesn't understand that your parents had a dedicated work ethic. He lets slip that you were a 'child' of the Fatui, and the Harbinger he was negotiating with feigns being insulted by the idea of someone turning on them.

After realising your time was limited, and you were going to either forcibly or willingly be sent back by the Fatui, you opt to burn the bridge you have with Wriothesley before handing yourself over. You know he can't do anything to stop this, even Neuvillette couldn't, and if you were to not 'turn' on him, he would be implicated on housing someone with a contractual attachment to the Fatui.

So, you do something stupid.

You tell Wriothesley you never loved him, that he was stupid for falling for your tricks. Wriothesley argues back, asking why you would do such an elaborate plan and remove all attachment from the Fatui all those years ago, only for you to laugh in his face. Showing a look of disgust, he turns to hide his face.

"Get out. I don't like who you are."

A correct statement for him to make, given the horrible lies you've been telling him to cut ties and protect him.

But this wouldn't be enough, you know. You get escorted out of the building, people turning heads as you make comments on how you were a 'proud Fatui agent' and Wriothesley had been 'played like a fiddle for information'. Of course, you were doing this to protect him, but nobody else around you knew this as people share looks of concern as they see you ruining your relationship.

Upon boarding the boat back to your homeland, you see a Harbinger.

"I see you know your rightful place." Pantalone hums out. "Consider yourself lucky your parents loved you enough to write up a good contract for your safety - even in the turn of betrayal." He smiles, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "If it weren't for the concrete contract your mother had written, you would be handed over as a test subject for Dottore."

Signing up their child to the Fatui? What a funny way of protecting your child, you think to yourself.

As the ship sails off, you turn as you see Wriothesley there, teary eyed but still wanting to see the person he loved for the last time. Unable to see how hurt he was without breaking your facade of being an undercover agent all this time, you sneer before turning away, crying as Pantalone chuckles at your actions.

[gomzdrawfr]

Retired life

[the-knife-consumer]

Absolute fucking nightmare of a dynamics chart sorry

[rouecentric]

╰►❝ SORRY I KIDNAPPED YOU, DO YOU STILL WANNA FUCK? ❞

summary: dion gets... interested.. in his fathers friend.

a/n: i fantasized ab dion with a dilf/milf! reader, have fun reading this shit

the actual work is under here!

the first thing DION noticed when he entered his father's office was an unfamiliar figure sitting in front of his father, cheerfully interacting with each other.

your voice was rather enticing, such a shame you stopped talking after hearing the doors open. maybe he should've just waited before opening the door just a little more so he could hear your voice?

DEON, who was surprised by his father announcing that you, a person from one of the other five ducal families, would be overseeing his training.

DEON, who always trusted his teacher, you, and your opinions, your word is law to him, even if it's negative about his father.

DEON, who overtime started noticing little things about you, such as how your tone would ever so slightly change when talking to people you disliked.

DEON, who always felt an uncomfortable pang in his heart whenever you would act all lovey-dovey with your wife/husband and children.

DEON, who realised he saw you as more than a mentor and friend. he later pondered if he should kill your spouse so he could be with you.

DEON, who started to try and seduce you, noticing your little expressions whenever he does so.

DEON, who abducted you in your sleep and tied you up to a bed in a manor he bought himself, all just for you💕

DEON, who when you woke up, demanded that you'd say you love him, looking at you with a crazed look in his eyes.

DEON, who worshipped your body and kissed you all over your body when you said it, as if you were some sort of god.

DEON, who let you use him and his body however you saw fit.

DEON, who happily partook in the fall of the agriche dukedom because of your orders.

DEON, who was now your lover, having an affair on your poor unsuspecting spouse and children, who thought that the reason you and him were this close was because he saw you as a parental figure.

[espers-n-espurrs]

OFFSCREEN POST

Olive Branch

TWs // CWs : Hospitals, Discussions of Child Death, Discussions of Kidnapping / Child Abduction, Panic Attacks, Violence, Injury, Gore, Blood

Connected to Connecting Roots and Uprooted.

No one liked being in the hospital. 

It was mind-numbing and draining, having to stay in one little room for days on end all the while doctors and nurses poked and prodded at you. It wasn’t just the medical staff that had been bothering Esper though. Police and other official looking people came and went, asking her questions that made her uncomfortable and forced her to reevaluate so much about what she knew. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like being told she was “safe now”, she didn’t like being told she was “in good hands”, she didn’t like how they talked about her da and mum, she didn’t like any of it. 

Esper stared up at the ceiling with an unfocused gaze, listening to the ticking of the clock. Her face almost seemed ghostly pale if not for her reddened cheeks and nose from hours of crying accompanied by the deep bags beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. Her hair was out of its braid, white threads spooled around her in messy strands like the roots of a tree, branching off into different paths. She looked like a mess.

Everything was out of her hands. She didn’t get a choice in any of this. Her entire life had changed in a matter of days and she wasn’t sure how she was meant to feel. Her da and mum had lied to her. They had been lying to her for so long. And yet she couldn’t even begin to understand how she felt about it all. Was she angry? Sad? Happy?

A small knock on the door cut through her thoughts.

Esper’s head slowly turned toward the door, her brows furrowing slightly in aggravation. It was probably more pushy cops coming to ask her about her da. Fucking wonderful.

With a roll of her eyes she called out to them, “Come in.”

The door creaked open slightly to reveal an exhausted-looking Victoria. Despite her attempts to appear composed, the stress lines and dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed any semblance of imperturbability. Clearly, the recent revelations had been taking as much of an emotional toll on her as they had on Esper.

Esper gasped as she snapped into a sitting position, “Tor–!” She was swiftly cut off as a sharp pain shot through her chest, causing her to double over in the bed, her arms wrapping tightly around her torso as she let out a hiss of pain. “I… I shouldn’t have done that…”

Victoria instinctively lunged forwards and reached a hand out to her, but slowed herself the moment she realized Esper was not immediately dying in front of her. “Are…” She began to ask something, but trailed off with a pause before saying, “I was going to ask if you were alright, but I suppose that would be a bit redundant of me, now would it?”

The white haired girl slowly sat back up, wincing as she let out a small laugh, “Just– Just a bit, I think.” Esper looked at Victoria with a small smile, “Though I’m not the most happy about people seeing me in such a state… with my hair being down and all.”

“Oh. I can leave if you—”

“I’m joking, Tori.”

To Esper’s surprise, Victoria chuckled with a slight smile. “I thought you were—” She instantly shut her mouth right before the punchline, her face falling into a frown. She looked at her friend with an unsure tilt of her head.

“Esper.” The girl stated without hesitation, “I want to be called Esper. Or, as you have been calling me, Esp.”

“Right.” The young heiress drew in a quiet breath and nodded. “Then… Esp it shall be.”

Esper smiled in turn. She wasn’t ready to be Estelle, she didn’t know if she ever could be. It was strange really, finding out that your name isn’t your name, at least not in the way you thought it was. But she could understand why her da did it, at least from his point of view, it would’ve made everything easier for him if she didn’t have her legal name. 

Though that did make her wonder…

“Why the hells didn’t my da change my brother's first name?” Esper suddenly asked aloud, tilting her head to the ceiling in thought, “Why’d he keep his first name?”

Victoria shifted uncomfortably on her feet, uncertain of how to respond. 

Esper continued, “And it’s not like I can fuckin’ ask him since he fuckin’ vanished after the second Darkest Day…”

“Vanished…?”

Esper blinked in response, turning her attention back to Victoria before glancing away with an awkward chuckle as if it was funny, “Ah– Yeah. I was the last one to see him that day, he found me during the chaos and promised to go get help. He… uh… never did. No one’s found him so we don’t know what happened to him.”

The other girl’s brows furrowed. “Forgive me for asking, but how are you so certain that he never sought help?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean like he didn’t try–” Esper vaguely gestured with her hand, “It’s just that my da and authorities were the ones to find me and Juno. And they hadn’t been told by Flynn that we were there, so they tried to interview anyone they could and no one stepped forward about having been spoken to by Flynn during the disaster. So, he may have tried, though he never actually managed to get help.”

She tilted her head. “Juno?”

“I– I should just give the rundown.” Esper responded, shifting in her bed to get more comfortable before continuing on, “So. Juno was my closest friend in Spikemuth and we spent a lot of time together. On the day of the big championship match, he was over at my old flat. It was just him, me, his Nickit named Polaris, and my da’s Obstagoon named Maverick. We were having a good time until, well, the second Darkest Day started in which Maverick… was one of the Pokemon to dynamax.”

Victoria winced slightly. “In… the house?”

“In the flat building… yeah.” The girl nodded as she began to fidget with her gown, “With both me, Juno, and his Nickit in the flat with him. And so many others in their neighboring flats…” 

She thought back to that day. Roars and calls of Pokemon shook the earth around her, echoing throughout Spikemuth and the surrounding area. The weight of concrete and brick crushed her body so tightly that she could barely fill her lungs with the dust-filled air. Metal debris pricked at her skin, jabbing at her sides and mudding her hair with crimson. She couldn’t move, she could barely cry out as all her energy was dedicated to keeping her alive and awake.

If only Juno could’ve been as lucky. 

He was alive for a while, whispering promises of life and safety to Esper in the darkness of their prison, though his body laid frighteningly still as crimson slowly pooled around him. His mind and body grew weaker by the second. He had been impaled when the building collapsed on top of them— a large, jagged piece of rusted metal had been lodged straight through his shoulder and into the debris below. Polaris was curled up to his side, beaten and battered as much as the two children, chirping and crying to his trainer. 

She remembered the way Juno’s eyes grew duller by the hour. Until they were cloudy and lifeless.

Victoria looked past the girl before her with a thousand-yard stare. The ticking second hand on the clock came to a stop, filling the room with a discomforting silence.

“We were trapped for nearly the whole day– But Flynn found us early on. He promised to go get help and… well… he never came back.” Esper let out a shaky breath, her face feeling hot, “And by the time help did arrive… Juno had been dead for several hours.”

The other girl shut her eyes and turned her head away, reaching a trembling hand to her chest. “Excuse me for a moment, Esper.” She took several deep breaths until her hands stopped shaking and the stress lifted from her face. The clock resumed its ticking, returning the familiar ambiance to the once silent room. 

After a moment, Victoria cleared her throat with a wince and gestured to her head. “Um— Mind-reading.”

Esper blinked before flushing red, waving her hands frantically, “Ah– I’m sorry– I forgot– I’m sorry I’ll just stop now I’m sorry–” The girl promptly tried to fill her mind with other things such as memories of Fauna and Deerling.

“No, no, it is through no fault of your own,” Victoria tried to reason with her. “It simply caught me off-guard is all.”

“Are you sure…?” Esper looked up at her with big eyes.

“Positive. You needn’t apologize, Esp.”

“Okay…” The girl nodded in return, “I was done anyways though. That’s about everything… Well not… everything… but all the really important things.”

“I see,” she said, finally turning to look back at her friend. “If I may be so bold to ask, do you… think Flynn is…?”

“Alive? Dead?” Esper hesitantly shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t know which I would rather, which would hurt less… If Flynn is dead then… he’s gone. But if he’s alive… then he left me to die.”

Before Victoria had time to respond, there was a knock at the door.

The girl raised an eyebrow, then looked to Esper. “Are you expecting company?”

Esper huffed in response, grimacing at the door, “No. It’s probably another officer or doctor or something. Let me just–” She raised her chin to the door and called out, “Come in!”

The door slowly opened to reveal a lanky man in a black and green jacket, his hood pulled tightly over his head and casting his face in shadow. His attire was worn and dirty and his demeanor seemed akin to a kicked dog with how he hunched in on himself and how his hands trembled at his sides. He hesitantly stepped into the room, closing the door behind him before turning in the direction of the two girls in an awkward fashion. 

Esper and Victoria exchanged glances for a moment, then eyed the man wearily.

The man stood there silently for a minute, staring at Esper specifically for an agonizingly long before clearing his throat, “So– Um–”

At that moment, a flash of recognition and utter hatred crossed Victoria’s face. An invisible force suddenly yanked the man towards the girl while she winded up her fist and connected it directly into the center of his face. The force of her punch snapped his glasses in half and knocked the hood off of his head.

Flynn Wyrmwood was knocked to the ground, clutching his nose in pain.

With a snarl, Victoria looked down at the man and hissed, “Hablando del rey de Roma, por la puerta asoma.” She raised her leg to stomp—

“VICTORIA–” Esper shouted. “DO NOT… stomp… on….” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the older boy. A boy with darker skin than hers and yet had the same pure white hair and lavender eyes with white pupils shining brightly. Esper repeated, her heart leaping into her throat as she took in the sight of the boy, “Victoria. Stop.”

The young heiress looked back towards her friend, then to the coward at her feet. She narrowed her eyes at him, but gently lowered her foot to the floor and stepped away. “Get up,” she spat at him. A sudden force lifted him off the ground and flipped him onto his feet— not too kindly, however. The momentum from the flip threw him forwards and he bashed his face into the side of the hospital bed. 

Flynn grunted in pain, barely managing to catch his footing before slowly dragging himself into a standing position, blood dripping from his nose. “Yeah– Yeah no– I deserved that–”

“Indeed you do,” Victoria cut him off.

“Victoria. Stop harming him.” Esper scolded before turning her attention to the bloodied boy infront of her, her eyes scanning his face. It was him. It was actually him. He was alive. He… he was alive. 

That hurt.

“Esper…” Flynn stared back at her, seemingly also studying her. A ragged breath left him as he spoke, “You’re alive.”

“You left me.”

“I know. I’m sorry–”

Esper cut him off, her chest tightening, “You left me to die. You left Juno and I to die.”

“I’m sor–”

“Juno is dead!” Esper spat. Tears had begun to well up in her eyes, “And you’re alive.”

Victoria glared silent daggers at Flynn. If looks could kill, he’d have perished where he stood.

He paused, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again and looking down in shame, “I’m sorry…”

The white-haired girl stared at her brother in silence for a while. The ticking of the clock was the only indication that time hadn’t stopped. 

“Why now?”

Her brother looked up at her, blinking.

“You had plenty of chances to come back. And yet you didn’t.” Esper asked, her body aching as emotions welled up inside her.

Flynn glanced away, “I… I was scared. I am scared. Father scared me, I was scared if I came back or told anyone then…”

“You knew.”

“I…” He winced, “I did. Yes.”

“You knew the entire time.” Esper’s gaze was hundreds of miles away, “That’s why he didn’t change your name.”

Flynn only nodded in response.

The white-haired girl gripped her blanket between her hands. Her thoughts became foggy with all the questions she wanted to ask him, but one stayed at the forefront of her mind.

“Why are you here?” She asked. “Da is gone now, you could no longer be a missing person.”

Flynn took a deep breath and looked his sister in the eye, “I… I wanted to give you the choice on if I did or not…”

“What?”

“I hurt you, Esper,” her older brother swallowed, “I hurt you a lot. I didn’t want to suddenly come stomping all over it again. So I wanted to give you that choice.” He wiped the blood from his nose as he knelt down by her bedside, “Do I come back home or do I go back to whatever hole I crawled out of?”

Victoria furrowed her brows and wrinkled her nose at him.

“I…” Esper trailed off, staring down at her brother with teary eyes. Why was she being asked to choose? Why did she have to make that choice? Why was this the only choice she’s been allowed during this whole fiasco? Why this of all things? She hadn’t seen her brother in nearly two years, she had thought he was dead somewhere, possibly eaten by some Pokemon or the like. But… here he was. Asking her to make a life-altering choice for him.

She felt sick.

“I…” The girl blinked, tears running down her face before she sharply turned away from her brother. As she spoke her voice seemed almost devoid of emotion. Almost. “Stop being missing... Come out of hiding… You…” She glared at him from the corner of her eye, “You don’t get to run from this.”

Her brother gave a small smile. Tears began to run down his face, dripping onto his now bloodstained jacket. “I won’t. I promise.”

Scene End.

---------------

Victoria belongs to @victoria-vd

[justplainwhump]

Over

Dany is captured by WRU.

A part of Angel's story.

Written for Whumpmas in July @whumpmasinjuly-archive , day 12, Caught.

Content / warnings: Abduction, betrayal, character death, whumper pov, thoughts about noncon, vibes of unhealthy relationship dynamics (m/f).

Had it been up to Frankie to choose the last day of this life, it defined wouldn't have been a Monday. The Hammonds' weekly security briefing was tedious and dull. Especially today. Especially when the sun was shining, especially when his flight to the Caribbean was -

"Frankie." Peter snapped his fingers. "Focus. Look at these photos. Anyone on these shows up near her, you get her away. The Chernovs are pissed because of the boss' latest move, and they won't hold back."

Especially when Frankie knew in detail what - no, who the biggest threat to Dany was today. He had to bite back a smirk.

"The Chernovs won't get to her," Frankie assured, peeking at the clock in the corner. "I'll keep her close."

Josie leaned back and chuckled. "Yeah. We all know just how close she keeps you."

Peter clicked his tongue. "We don't talk about the junior like that, Josie. She's an adult, she's a professional, and so is Francis. When he's listening."

"Yeah. I've got her," Frankie repeated and peeked at the clock on the wall. "And she's going to insufferable when I'm late to pick her up. So. Excuse me."

"Watch out for these guys."

"I will."

He'd been even more attentive than usual, lately, Frankie thought as he jogged towards her office. He knew WRU was scouting them, and he'd clocked some of their agents. Whom he he'd been truly on the lookout for, however, was the principal. The person behind it all. Who paid hundreds of thousands of dollars, to make Danielle Hammond his.

It scratched his professional honor that he couldn't tell. Sure, Stuart Hammond pissed off many powerful players, many of whom would go great length to take it out on his only daughter and designated successor. But none of them would use WRU as a middle man.

And Dany's own surroundings? She certainly came after her Dad, in both business sense and annoying attitude, but Frankie usually managed to keep up with a list of her enemies.

Nobody matched.

Frankie sighed, before he knocked at her door and entered right away.

"You're late," she said, not bothering to turn around from where she stood in front of her cabinet, changing from her elegant business suit into a white summer dress. Frankie was a pragmatic man, but he suspected there was some sort of poetry in that choice on a day like today. "Just in time to zip me up, though."

He stepped in behind her and carefully brushed her blond hair aside, before he reached down for the zipper.

She was gorgeous. Sun tanned, soft skin. The freckles over her shoulders. The fit body, with just the perfect mixture of curves and muscle. His hand rested on her ass just some moments, mapping her shape to keep her in his memories.

All of this would belong to someone else, soon.

"Frankie." She raised a brow at him through the mirror. "We're past this, remember? Focus."

His other hand searched for her hip, too, and he pulled her back against him. She didn't fight it. Fuck. She felt too good, her body pressed to his, just like the many times before. "Come on," he whispered into her hair. "One last time?"

Dany turned her head, and it made him shiver how close she was, how her soft breath caressed his skin. "You don't call the shots, babe," she whispered back, her hand on his cheek. "I do." She twisted her hip out of his grip. "Not today."

He wondered, how it would feel to just take her, right here, in her office. What would happen, if he just grabbed her, hand in that blond locks, tossed her over her own desk and fucked her. She was feisty, but he was stronger than her. Paid to be. He could easily overwhelm her. He'd thought about this, more than once. Never done it. Always let her call the shots. Always let her be in power. What a meek little power that was, though. All deduced, from family, from wealth.

And someone out there was about to do what Frankie couldn't. Strip that off her. That power. That name. That arrogance. All of it. And make her into a submissive little fucktoy.

Oh, he fucking hated them for getting what he longed for.

"Focus," Dany said sharply.

He took a deep breath and nodded. And he did focus. On the smell of her shampoo, on the way her hair tingled over his skin, on the curve of her ass under the zipper.

Focus.

Frankie would become a rich man today. Rich, satisfied, free. He'd just have to make it through this.

"Sorry, babe," he mumbled.

He wasn't.

~

"Why did you say that?" Dany asked, when they were going down in the elevator, looking at him through the huge mirror. "A last time? You usually don't give up that easily."

Frankie had to hide a flinch. "I... Did I really say that?"

She stared at him from honey eyes, eyebrow raised. Expectant. "Yeah."

He hated her. For being gorgeous, for that white dress, for being in charge, for looking right through him. Fifteen minutes. He just needed this to not blow up in his face for fifteen more minutes. Just needed her to trust him for fifteen more minutes. "I... I think we should end this," he said. Improvised. It felt hollow. It sounded real. "It's... It's sort of getting nowhere, right? And I... I think I deserve better."

She paused for a moment, searched his face, before she shrugged. "Okay. Yeah. I guess." She smirked. "It's really been a bit of a cliche, anyway."

The doors slid open towards the lobby, but he couldn't move.

"That's it?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "That's how simple you think this is?"

"Wasn't it always? Come on, Frankie. We fucked. It was fun, it was good, and not gonna lie-" She winked at him. "I did like spanking you. But I mean. It's just sex, right? When it's over, it's over. No hard feelings." She held out an arm to keep the elevator door open for them. "Now. Are we leaving or do you want Peter to cover your shift?"

He really considered it. For a second or two, Frankie imagined going home, having a beer, calling his parents, telling them he'd come back to work in their repair shop. Imagined a life without Dany Hammond.

No.

He'd close this chapter of his life in a much more rewarding way.

"I'm good." He gave her a sharp nod. "Yeah. No hard feelings."

He pushed past her into the lobby, took the room in with a sweeping glance. For a short moment, someone locked eyes with him.

Alex Nadler. That short, awkward WRU client satisfaction manager, dressed just like a businessperson passing by. They weren't awkward now. Their gaze felt like steel.

Frankie shivered.

Move, their lips formed as they tilted their head towards the street.

Focus, Frankie thought.

Focus.

He guided her to the door, just some steps after Alex.

By his side Dany, utterly unfazed by their past conversation, had pulled a stack of index cards from her white purse and skimmed through them, mumbling to herself. She was invited to give a speech at some charity's summer event, just two blocks south.

She wasn't scheduled to arrive.

He walked half a step behind her shoulder, as always, shielded her from behind and towards the street. And as always, his gaze constantly flicked from the surroundings to her. Her long legs, short white dress, perfectly curved ass, blond strands dancing in the wind. People made space for her on instinct, looked at her, jealous, admiring, greedy. And herself - she didn't even notice, deep into her notes, trusting the man behind her to keep her safe.

The man she'd let into her bed, but nowhere else. The man who'd been good enough to guard her, but not to be more than an affair out of dozens. The man she'd led him on, made feel special, and then proved over and over that to her, he was anything but.

A van closed in from behind them. In front, Alex slowed their steps to down to fall back to Dany's side.

Everything was in place.

Dany had no idea.

Frankie smiled grimly.

For someone as savvy as she was, she was pathetically naive.

Then, Alex raised their hand.

~

It happened in seconds. The van slowed by the curb, its door sliding open. Masks. Machine guns.

Dany's index cards silently drifting to the sidewalk. Her white dress still dancing around her thighs, while she stood frozen in shock.

Her first move was for him. A hand, reaching back, to where she knew her protector would be.

Frankie grabbed her waist, a move so familiar he could almost laugh. "I've got you, babe" he mumbled. He could swear that he felt her relax the tiniest bit.

Then he hefted her into the van, right between the armed men.

He jumped in, Alex followed, and the van accelerated, sped off, before Dany had even said a word.

She didn't, still, even when one of the captors took her purse and passed it on to toss it out. Even when another pulled back her wrists and fixed them with zip ties. Even when they forced her to her knees and bound her ankles as well.

Even with a stranger's hand in her hair, a gun to her head, she stayed silent, attentive, aware. Her gaze was on Frankie alone.

And oh. He could drown in those eyes.

When someone touched his wrist, disturbed the image, he angrily flinched. "Sit," a masked man next to him said. "It's getting bumpy."

"I'm -" Frankie grabbed for a hold on the side, just before the van sped around a corner.

"An asshole," Dany said flatly. "I should've known."

Somebody chuckled. But apart from that, nobody spoke.

She didn't say anything more either. Smart girl, he thought. Just as him and the security guys had talked through with her dozens of times. Don't give them anything. Stay calm. Stay alert. Don't fight. Could even have helped, had this been what she probably assumed it to be.

A kidnapping for ransom, for information, for leverage. A kidnapping that matched her worldview. Matched her self image of being the centre of the world.

He idly wondered, what they'd do with that cute white dress. Trash it, probably. Too bad. He'd have liked to fuck her in it.

The van hit a speedbump, another one, and Dany let out a short gasp when the man behind her yanked at her hair trying to keep his footing. The outside noises changed, grew dull, and the van drove into a long, spiraled curve. Parking garage, Frankie thought.

The door slid open, and without spoken commands, their captors emerged into the dark, boots echoing on concrete.

They were alone.

Frankie and Dany, his charge, his lover, his boss. He'd have given his life for her, a long time. Now, he'd sold hers.

She tried to push herself off the ground, get onto her knees again. Under the dim inside light of the van, her dress seemed to emit light. He saw her eyes skim over the inside of the car, the door, back at him, assessing the situation. It was hopeless.

She knew.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why, Frankie?"

"Money," Frankie said with a shrug and crouched down in front of her. "A new life. Seeing you on your knees. Actually, mostly the latter." He reached out and gently traced her cheek. She did flinch now. Cute. "Because you're a bitch, Dany." He grabbed her chin harder. "Because I get paid to see you destroyed."

She stared at him. He wondered if her lip was trembling, or if it was just the light. "It... You know it doesn't make sense, right?" she said.

Frankie pulled back from the kiss he'd just wanted to press on her lips, irritated. "What?"

"That story. You're a loose end. No mobster in their right mind would just let you walk. You betrayed me, you sold me out to be destroyed, but they'll kill you first." She let out a low chuckle. "Oh Frankie. You've always been a fucking idiot."

Fucking bitch tried to belittle him, even at her lowest.

"Oh no, babe." He shook his head. "You have no idea. They're not the mob. They're something else. They just planned to make it look like-"

Dany raised an eyebrow.

Fuck.

Something cold pressed into the back of his neck.

Frankie froze.

"She's right," Alex said behind him, their voice even. "We're professionals. At WRU, we don't leave loose ends."

Dany's gorgeous, brown eyes widened with sudden understanding, her mask of smug confidence finally shattered. "No," she breathed. "No, no, not WRU, not that, not -"

Dany Hammond looked lovely, he thought, when she fell apart.

He held on to that image, as he took his last breath.

---

[Next]

- --

Angel tag list (ask to be added or removed): @whumplr-reader @there-will-always-be-blood @whimpers-and-whumpers @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606

[necros-writing-stuff]

More serial killer Eden soup, m'lord?? PleaSE?

Idk where to go with the story, but I think I'll do a little bit from an Eden POV.

'Such a good spouse,' he thinks as he watches you patch up his trousers. Your stitches are neat and tidy, the song you hum pleasant to his ears.

'Such a beauty, such a gentle and kind person.'

You've learned to fit in well. It took some time, but you did. You turn to smile up at him when he comes closer, kissing his palm when he strokes over your cheek with his thumb. Letting him hold your face as you peer up at him, just waiting for his next command. He doesn't have one. He just wanted to feel you.

He just wanted to find satisfaction in how you lean into him instead of flinching away, screaming like a stuck boar.

There was a different kind of satisfaction back then, the night he took you. In stalking you through the trees, hearing your terrified whimpers as you tried to run away. Hearing you beg that you'd do anything as he cut away your clothes, each sob drawing in heaving breaths. He wasn't gentle with his blade that day, having nicked your skin by your collarbone. You still bore the scar.

He hadn't really decided to keep you until he'd seen your naked body. Till the clouds had parted and sunlight had streamed through the canopy, showing him your face properly. Part of him always wandered if it was the right choice, especially in those first months. That part was growing ever quieter.

He leans down, you straightening your back so that you can meet him as he places a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Just going to check my traps," he whispers against your lips. Not his rabbit traps. You know that.

"Be safe," you return, another quick kiss before he straightens and fixes his jacket and put his gun strap over his shoulder.

He hopes one of the traps caught something. Hopes he'll get to return to you riled up from the thrill. You always seem more real when Eden reminds himself how easy it is to ensure another no long is.

[deliverance-the-game]

Chapter 5 is out!

Silence settles in the space once again. The phantom image slowly ebbs away into the faded - but not forgotten - darkness.

The aching tremor in your bones after a dream is not unfamiliar.

-

So you have refused to cease survived the cold, guided by a beast but time is not your friend, nor will it ever be

Something else lurks

Do not forget to look up, else you may not see the dangers which may fall upon thee

Return to your journey here.  

Introductions

Content warnings tagged and detailed under the cut.

Chapter 5 contains depictions of death and body horror, and has mentions of child abduction. Please read with care.

[skyler10fic]

Lightning Strikes Twice: Ch. 1

Summary: Melinda May and Phil Coulson are sent on a mission to recover a missing child in a supernatural storm. But the child they come back to Shield HQ with is not the one they were sent to find.

Read on Ao3 / See Author's note for warnings

-----------------

Shield agent Melinda May shivered in the spring night air. What a night to be on duty.

She was alone, sitting in the driver’s seat of her Shield-issued black SUV as her husband, Agent Phil Coulson, sweet-talked the local authorities. They had to get into that sports complex. Tonight.

A thunderstorm swirled overhead, but this was no natural April shower. These clouds hid a scout ship of the mighty Kree warriors. Of course, the local police didn’t know that. They only knew that the night’s baseball games were canceled due to weather, and they were instructed to redirect teams, parents, and other spectators to return next week.

Phil frowned as he trudged back to the SUV and got in.

“Any luck?” Melinda asked, already knowing the answer.

Phil sighed. “Your turn.”

“Good. I like my way.” Melinda smirked and pulled out a remote control. With the press of a button, the sounds of gunfire and the lighting of a small explosion played from a cheap special effects kit on the far side of the main building of the sports complex. Out of view of the police officers, it looked and sounded real enough, at least with the rain and the echo off the cinderblock building.

As predicted, the officers ran from their spot to the disturbance. With no more Phil Coulsons around trying to talk their way in, there was no reason for them to be at the entrance anyway. All the sane people had gone home with their young athletes, grateful for a night off instead of huddling under the bleachers in the pounding storm.

That left Melinda and Phil with a clear entrance.

“Buckle up,” Melinda warned as she floored it through the now-clear sports complex entrance and across the parking lot. Phil set off another round of special effects commotion at the building just to cover the sound of the SUV’s engine.

The dirt path to baseball diamond C wasn’t exactly meant to be a road, but it was wide enough, and with the SUV’s capabilities, it got them right to the scene of the incident.

They got out and approached the dugout cautiously. Director Fury had warned them this was no ordinary missing child case. It had been mass hysteria at this site only a few hours earlier.

—---------------------------

The storm had come without warning, zapping down blue and green lightning as if targeting the young players on the field. Parents shouted for their children and children cried for their parents, and the rain pounded down, muffling the chaos. A father in the Special Forces caught a photo of the lightning as his wife called for their little girl. His stomach turned as he realized what the blur was at the edge of the camera. She was only three; it wasn’t her fault. But it was just like her. Of course, she’d gone toward danger instead of running away. Another lightning flash and his daughter disappeared.

“CAROL!” he shouted as he and his wife ran toward the spot in the outfield, but it was dark, empty. Not even a hair left of her. Another flash of lightning, this time directly onto the dugout. They turned back in shock at the loud crack of the wood slat roof splintering. They thought they saw a girl inside, the same size, impossibly far for her to have run, but it was just the afterimage. The lightning flashes were playing tricks on their eyes. They turned back to each other and screamed for Carol until their lungs gave out.

Their seven-year-old son stood frozen, drenched in his white-and-mud Little League baseball uniform. He saw what they wouldn’t admit. His sister had clearly vanished. It was no runaway little girl, lost in the storm, as they would tell the police. She had called out to him as she was hit and had faded away into thin air in the blindingly bright light. He stumbled as he ran toward her, losing coordination as he slipped in the mud. She was gone.

Eventually, the Special Forces officer side of the father kicked back in and he brought the film canister to his superiors at the military base while his wife and son waited for hours into the night at the city police station. The stoic military men developed the film, and as they waited, they heard his story of the supernatural storm, still brewing over the sports complex. Though later he would deny it if anyone had asked, the desperate father asked his officers if the storm could be a foreign enemy’s technology. It was too targeted to be simple, ordinary weather.

The commanding officers exchanged silent glances, thanked the father for the intel, and offered him coffee. They then hustled back to an office with a confidential line and had phoned Shield with the developed images in hand. This lightning wasn’t natural, but it also wasn’t of human origin. Only Shield could provide answers beyond that.

—-----------------

Director Fury then dispatched Phil and Melinda, and here they were, creeping around a dark, stormy park full of baseball fields and tricking police officers into abandoning their posts.

Phil signaled to Melinda to watch his back as he poked his head into the dugout. The smallest of whimpers came from within.

“Carol?” Phil whispered into the darkness. “Is that your name?”

The coast was clear around them, so Melinda glanced past him to the source of the rustle in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “We just want to help you find your parents. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

The shadow whimpered again, and Melinda gave up on watching for danger that wasn’t coming. She knelt down and made sure her flashlight was pointed at the ground.

“You’re safe now,” Melinda assured. She held out a hand and heard a shaky breath. “Can you be brave and come out here?”

The little girl that emerged was not blonde pig-tailed Carol Danvers at all. This little girl took Melinda’s breath away. Part Chinese, Melinda was sure of it, with Caucasian features too, though it was hard to tell in the flashlight’s dim glow. Something inside her knew, as she locked eyes with the girl, that this child could well have been hers and Phil’s. If they had been able…

Phil put on his best dad smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The little girl shook her head. She couldn’t have been more than three at the most.

“I’m Phil,” he introduced. “And this is my wife, Melinda. We want to help you get home.”

The little girl lurched forward and grabbed Melinda’s outstretched hand. She was a little unsteady on her feet, so Melinda picked her up without thinking. The little girl clung to her and started crying. She snuggled into Melinda’s shoulder and wept, making Melinda hold her tighter.

Phil furrowed his brow and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Fury, this is Coulson.”

“Go, Coulson,” came the reply in Fury’s exhausted voice.

“Were there any other reports of missing children?”

“No, just the one you’re assigned to.” The unstated question made Phil and Melinda exchange a look of dread.

“We didn’t find a blonde girl. This one has dark hair, East Asian features? About the same age.” Phil paused. “Sir, she needs help.”

“Hmm.” Fury was silent for a while. “No reports that fit that description. Bring her in.”

Melinda brushed the little girl’s hair back, wet from the rain, and asked, “Do you know if there are any other kids out here? Maybe another girl like you?”

She raised her head and shook it “no.” And then she spoke, in a raspy whisper that broke Melinda’s heart, “Just me. I’m alone.”

They returned to their search for the child they were assigned to find, but even when they had found the master switch to turn on the lights for every field (revealing nothing), tried every door (all locked), searched every nook and cranny (empty), and called over and over for the child’s name, Carol Danvers, they had to agree with the assessment that there was no one else here. Except the police officers running toward them from the far side of the sports complex, shouting something that was probably “there they are!” and “come back here!” but they were slightly too far away to be heard clearly.

It was time to go.

The girl clung tightly to Melinda as they returned to the SUV. Melinda climbed in the back to gently strap her into the car seat meant for another child—the girl who was still missing. Instead of leaving this little one in the back seat alone, Melinda buckled in next to her to comfort her. The little girl fell asleep, exhausted by whatever ordeal she had been through in this storm. Her tiny lips parted, and her precious eyelashes lay so delicately on her still-babyish cheeks. By the time they made it back to Shield, Melinda May had fallen in love with someone else’s child.

But whose?

When they were back at Shield HQ, the little girl awoke and tried to answer their questions. She didn’t remember her own name or her parents’ names, or her address, or what town she was from. She just “forgotted.”

In the morning, the pediatrician contracted with Shield confirmed it was likely caused by the traumatic experience. Whether the memories came back would be anyone’s guess. More visually alarming, Melinda had discovered deep large bruises on the girl’s ankles, forearms, and back when changing her out of her soaking wet clothes and giving her a bath at the faux hotel room at HQ used for overnight guests. She didn’t say anything that night, settling the girl into a big bed the preschooler described as “the very comfy comfiest!” Phil returned from the office floors of the building with a plush tiger toy from the supplies they used to comfort children affected by trauma and tragedy. This certainly counted. The girl cuddled the tiger close throughout the night (and every night after) and grasped it tight through every nightmare that woke them all up with her crying and screaming until Phil and Melinda could sooth her back to sleep.

The next morning, the doctor dismissed the bruises as minor childhood injuries from running away from home in the storm, an understandable conclusion given that the girl was using everything in sight as a jungle gym, but as a skilled martial artist and agent, Melinda knew bruises intimately. These were old and intentionally inflicted.

“Who has been hurting you?” Melinda asked quietly when the doctor left the exam room and promised to send in a nurse with the evaluation paperwork and test orders to complete at the lab.

However, right now, the little girl couldn’t focus on answering any questions when there were puppies on her new, soft pink shirt to make up stories about. That morning, she hadn’t recognized the ubiquitously preschool-famous cartoon dalmatians, or know that they were called puppy dogs, which was odd, though the doctor said that was explainable by the amnesia. But otherwise, his evaluation said she seemed healthy, if a bit undernourished, and assuming the labs all came back clear, she was well enough to go home, wherever that would be now.

They searched every database and missing child alert. There were no parents that fit the half-remembered description the little girl gave. Of course, the girl also wondered why no one was blue, why cars didn’t fly here, if they could go to space soon, and a dozen other typical three-year-old questions. After two nights in the faux hotel room and three straight days at Shield HQ, as the little girl napped on a cot and Phil and Melinda and their teammates traded duties looking after her while searching for any surviving family or any matching DNA at all in international intelligence community databases, it was clear this child had nowhere to go. She really was alone in the world.

Fury brought the girl, Phil, and Melinda into a conference room. He addressed the girl first.

“I understand you don’t remember your name, but Coulson and May here have been calling you Skye, is that right?”

“Mhmm!”

“Do you like that name?”

“Yes! They says it’s because I was a gift from the sky.” She looked for approval from Melinda and Phil.

“And where did you live before you met us, Skye?”

“Up there!” She pointed to the sky out the window. “In a big city ship with the big angry blue men. But then I was sneaky sneaking on the ship and I had to hide! And then I came here and it was wet. And then I met you!”

Melinda’s heart skipped a beat. “You came from the Kree ship? Fury, are the Kree blue?”

Skye frowned and her eyes pled with the adults. “Don’t make me go back! Don’t make me! No! Nooo! I don’t wanna go back!” She kicked her little feet and shook her head. When she didn’t receive an answer, only shock from the adults, she curled in on herself, hiding her face in her knees, repeating how much she didn’t want to leave.

“We thought they were just warriors up there. To have children on that ship…” Phil trailed off and paled. If the Kree ship had not vanished when it did in the storm, Shield was about to blast it out of the sky. “The doctor said she was human! How…?”

“Whether this child is actually Kree or simply a lost human child like any other, she needs a home. A safe one. One where she won’t be hit by big men…?” At Fury’s words, Skye stopped muttering and lifted her head. “Or yelled at?” She inhaled deeply and met Fury’s eyes. “And she would get lots of hugs? And everything she needed?”

“Really?” Skye’s eyes sparkled, breaking Melinda’s heart again. “When I’m a big kid, can I go to the bus?”

“The bus?” Phil asked.

“On the scwream.” She pointed toward the hallway in the direction of the room with a TV she’d been watching the last few days. “The big kids go on the magic bus and the lady with the hair and the lizward ….”

“School,” Melinda exhaled. “Yes, you can go to school.”

“Schooool!” Skye squealed. “Even though I’m not blue!”

“No one’s blue here,” Fury corrected for the hundredth time.

“No blues,” Skye sighed in happiness. She looked directly into Melinda’s eyes with her own puppy dog hope. “Can I stay here forever?”

Melinda swallowed back tears and opened her arms. “Yeah. Yeah, kid. You can stay forever.”

Skye squealed and launched herself out of her chair and to Melinda. Phil and Fury filled out the Shield Protocol 0-84: Humanoid Dependent custody paperwork right there on the table. In Melinda’s lap, as the grown-up conversation grew boringly legal, Skye got hold of a pen and the blank back side of one of the forms and immediately started drawing their little stick figure family, along with odd symbols that might have just been scribbles, if she weren’t so intentional about them.

“Look!” Skye insisted. “Look! Look! Look!” When she was satisfied she had everyone’s attention, she pointed to the figures.

“You can be the mommy,” she said to Melinda. “You can be the daddy,” she said to Phil. “And I’m me!” She beamed in excitement. “And Director Fury can be the teacher.” She still had a babyish aw on her Rs, and it made them all melt, even battle-hardened, man-in-charge Diwectah Fuwy, which Phil would be teasing him about for months to come.

Raising a potentially alien daughter who didn’t remember her birth parents or much of anything before, with vague and likely violent early childhood trauma, would be a challenge that required some specialized professional help only Shield could provide, but this day was the first day of an otherwise blissfully happy life together. From that moment on, they were a family.

[angrelysimpping]

December Prompts Day 7: Joy

Reader (you/you); Night Monster (they/them); this isn’t actually the night monster but the Horned Person, the night monster’s monster-person form, but I use the two interchangeably, hope that’s okay; abduction; mentioned past non-con but nothing explicit

Words: 431

The worst part was, you were so close to the orphanage. The sun had set, the chill it kept at bay now creeping over you as you made your way through the mostly deserted streets. Not happy, no, but satisfied with your work at least. You had enough money in your pocket to buy what you needed and that was enough. 

That’s when you felt the eyes on you.

So close to the relative safety of the orphanage, but that didn’t help you now as you ducked behind a dumpster, hoping that whoever, whatever, it was didn’t notice you. 

You weren’t that lucky. You never were.

“Pretty.”

You go rigid as the low voice growls out behind you. A far too familiar voice. 

Muscles locked in place, it takes far more effort than it should to move. To rip out of your hiding spot, try to make it the last of the way to the orphanage. 

You didn’t make it far. 

A large, warm body collides into yours, sending you to the ground. Squirming, you manage to flip onto your back, going cold as you see the horned monster who has you pinned.

“Pretty,” they repeat, a strong arm locking around your waist. Pulling you close to their body, you can’t help but relax a little at the warmth. “Missed seeing you.”

You squeeze your eyes closed as they start to jump up a nearby wall, the rooftop trip to Elk Street making your stomach lurch. All you can do is cling to the beast as they bring you back to their lair, the terror of being dropped and the frigid night air mixing together. 

Your eyes are still closed when they dump you on a mattress. 

“Mine again,” they snarl. 

Bracing yourself on the mattress, you try to keep calm. But, you know what comes next: the way they’ll mount you, keep you pinned, use you until they’ve exhausted themself. It won’t be the worst you’ve endured, but it still won’t be pleasant.

That’s why when something heavy drops into your lap, you flinch. Only, nothing else happens. Tentatively, you bring yourself to open your eyes. There, resting on your thighs, is the monster’s head. Eyes shut, their arms come up to wrap around your waist, keeping you from sliding out from under them. Tentatively, you reach out, running your fingers through their wild mane.

They make a noise akin to a purr, an eye cracking open to give you a look of pure joy. “More,” they grumble. 

What else can you do but oblige?

[screams-n-shackles]

Hello would you draw my favorite boy Suriya on a leash,,, any scenario of your choosing ehehe

For context he’s God’s favorite kidnapping victim and eternal sadboy. Had a whumper arc and failed so bad at it he got demoted to whumpee status. Best skill is crying.

Sending lots of <22222 btw!

Suriya on a Chain Leash 🙏

I kinda turned it into concept Art for some Kind of Whumper Magazine

This ended Up Not being a quick Sketch

(Edit: wait I looked It up I made this in under an hour lmao)

He Is Not crying (yet) because He Is bamboozled

[spookcataloger]

The Belarus Seer

[espers-n-espurrs]

OFFSCREEN POST

Connecting Roots

Continues from Laid to Rest

TWs // CWs : Hospitals, Child Injury Mention, Discussions of Pokemon Death, Discussions of Kidnapping / Child Abduction, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Complete upheaval of life, Police

The hospital was unnerving, with its pristine white walls and floors and its blinding fluorescent lights. The scent of disinfectant perpetrated the air, causing the room to feel artificial and dead. Esper shifted uncomfortably in her bed, forcing herself to not fidget or touch the IV stuck in her arm. Beside her, Victoria sat in the recliner with furrowed brows and a distant stare, her arms crossed and her leg bouncing anxiously. The ticking of the clock pounded its way into Esper’s skull as she waited.

It had been nearly an hour since Reina had excused herself from the hospital room to go make a phone call, ordering Victoria to stay with Esper. At first, the two attempted to make small talk to stave off the silence. But the lingering tension from earlier events hung over them, suffocating any conversation until it died down to nothing more than crossed arms and far-off gazes from Victoria.

And yet despite the passage of time, Reina had yet to return. Esper didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. She couldn’t see the dust. She couldn’t see the scattered remains of the Hatterene in her room. She couldn’t tell if any had landed on her, if Barcelona’s last remnants were all over her or in the far corners of the room. She couldn’t tell and she didn’t want to know.

Her body ached, the pain medication only doing so much to dull the throbbing in her face and torso.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs and hoped she wasn’t breathing in the dust of Barcelona, and opened her eyes to refocus on the blue-haired girl in the room.

“How are your Pokemon doing?” Esper asked, desperate to focus on anything but what had just happened. “I know Maria had to leave the dorm with Esperanza.”

Victoria’s eyes flickered upwards to look at Esper, slipping back into the present. She blinked for a moment before quietly responding with, “Physically, they will be fine. They are Pokemon, they heal fast.” She cast a glance at the blazer pocket that stored her Pokeballs. “Esperanza, as far as I am aware, sustained no injuries. Maria escaped with a few scratches. And Matador…” She trailed off. “Matador doesn’t know Barcelona is dead…”

“Oh…” Esper paused, looking down at her hands as she rubbed the blanket fabric between her fingers, “You're right. He doesn’t.”

With the grim reminder of what had occurred only an hour prior, the girls once again slipped back into uncomfortable silence, with only the ticking clock and the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights to fill the void.

Minutes later, however, Victoria suddenly lifted her head and whirled around to face the entrance to the hospital room. Unfurling her arms, she squinted and furrowed her brows at the door, extreme confusion and disbelief riddled her face. “Wait—” The girl whipped her head to look at Esper, eyes darting around every detail of her face. “Wait wait—”

The girl in the hospital bed blinked, “What–” She quickly brought a hand up to touch her bruised cheek, “What– Is the bruise getting worse?”

“No– I—” Victoria looked back and forth between Esper and the door, her chest rising and falling increasingly erratically. “I don’t– Wait– no—” Her gaze became unfocused as she stared off into the distance behind Esper, shaking her head slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that fell from her lips were unrefined stammers. “You– No– Nono– You can’t—”

“I– What–” Esper furrowed her brows as worry etched itself across her face. She watched her friend’s actions carefully, attempting to understand why her friend was acting so uncharacteristically emotional. Esper moved to the side of the bed, throwing her legs over the edge to sit up as she questioned the other girl. “Tori– Tori, what’s wrong?”

“Est— Esp—”

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. And before either of them could respond, Reina Velasco-Delgado had let herself into the room.

Two officers filed in behind her, along with a sharply dressed man— Victoria’s father.

The white-haired girl paused, her face paling as she eyed the police officers like a wary Pokemon, “Wha…”

Reina raised a hand to cut her off, “You are not in any trouble, love.” With her hands clasped in front of her, her smile warm, and her eyes soft, she appeared a lot less intimidating than she had been an hour ago. She had forgone the thick fur coat and wide brim hat for a much more humble white blazer. If not for her light complexion, she would appear a lot more like Victoria.

Speaking of Victoria, at the sight of her mother and father, the girl had quickly sobered up and sat straighter in her chair. She raised her chin in acknowledgement. The only hint of her prior state was the occasional glance she would throw in Esper’s direction.

Esper looked Reina up and down, doubt and confusion riddling her mind with all sorts of worse case scenarios as she asked, “Then– Then what–”

The girl was swiftly cut off by the clacking of heels as another figure entered the room, stealing away her attention and causing her to freeze in her seat as her eyes met those of an older woman. The older woman froze in turn, letting out a gasp at the sight of Esper and clasping her hand over her mouth where Esper could’ve sworn she had briefly caught a glimpse of the shining whites of fangs. But that wasn’t the only thing of note about the woman. No. Her hair that fell down to just below her shoulders was a brilliant snowy white and her eyes– her eyes were soft lavender with white pupils so bright that they almost seemed to glow.

But that couldn't be. These traits combined with the aged face of the woman resulted in what could only be described as the spitting image of Esper’s father.

If it were not for the fact that this woman was so clearly not her father she would’ve called out to them in excitement, but no. No. This was not her father, she did not know who this woman was.

Esper sat quietly, her guard raised as she stared at the woman through furrowed brows as she waited for her to make some kind of move.

And that was when the woman spoke. “Salut, do you remember me…? Do you know who I am…?” Her voice was soft and warm and she spoke with a strong Kalosian accent.

“...Am I meant to?” The younger girl responded rather bluntly.

The older woman's shoulders slumped slightly as she let her hands fall from her face but nonetheless she smiled at Esper as she answered “I had wished you did but that cannot be helped my dear…” She then leaned down to be face to face with the younger girl and this was when Esper took notice that the woman’s eyes were red and puffy as if she had just been crying. “Which means I should introduce myself, my name is Cécilia Wyrmwood. Does the last name Wyrmwood ring any bells?”

Esper shook her head with a growing sense of dread building in her gut as she glanced off to the side to see the two officers watching them intently.

Cécilia hummed in response, a seemingly sad look in her eyes before she shook her head in turn. “I… I understand. Let’s try this then.” She reached into her purse, pulling a series of photos. Thumbing through them for a moment the older woman selected one and bent down to show it to Esper. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

The white-haired girl looked down at the photo being presented to her and felt her stomach drop as she saw the ever so familiar face of her father staring up at her. It was undoubtedly him, the only difference being a bright toothy grin and a lack of wrinkles, but it was so clearly him.

Esper’s eyes snapped up to meet Cécilia’s, her face paling as she quietly asked, “Why do you have a photo of my da…?”

“Because I’m his twin sister, dear.” The older woman spoke with such confection that Esper didn’t have it in her to argue. To say that, no, no, you’re lying to me, my da has no siblings. Because how could Esper know for sure? Her father always shooed away any conversation about his family, always scolding and telling her to stop asking him such questions. But here she was, in front of one of her father’s family members, in front of one of her family members. But why? Why now? Why here? Why at all?

Esper wanted to ask every question running through her mind, every single one, but the only one that came out was, “Then… then why didn’t he tell me about you..? Why– What–”

Her mouth went dry as Cécilia answered with, “Because he took you.”

“You’re lying.” Esper spat out before thinking. She had to be lying. Her da didn’t take her. He couldn’t have.

Cécilia frowned at this, “I’m not. I promise you, I’m not. He took you and your brother and, as we’ve found out, fled to Spik–” 

She was quickly cut off by Esper snapping back, “You are! You must be! My– My da never took me! I’ve lived in Spikemuth my whole life! He never took me if I’ve always been there!”  

Victoria visibly flinched at Esper’s sudden outburst. Yet she remained silent as always. Reina stepped to her daughter’s side and rested a hand on the back of the chair, shooting Cécilia a sympathetic frown.

Cécilia sighed in return, “I know. I know this is hard, trust me when I say this.”

“And why should I?” The girl snarled back.

Esper’s aunt took a deep breath and pulled out another photo from the collection she had in her hands, staring at it for a long moment before turning it around for Esper to see. In the photo stood a young girl, no more than six, with white hair and lavender eyes smiling brightly at the camera as she held an older boy’s hand, his complexion darker than her own with curly white hair and his own eyes a darker shade of purple. The two stood in front of a large and extravagant iron gate with Esper’s father off to the side, watching the two with sharp eyes and a soft smile.

“Do you recognize these two?” Cécilia asked in a tone that indicated that she already knew the answer.

Esper felt her hands begin to shake, her eyes scouring the photo for what felt like minutes. No. No. She doesn’t– Those can’t– No– “That’s my brother and I…” She quietly responded, her voice much more meek than what it had been before during her outburst. “But… That can’t– I don’t remember that– Where–”

“That was taken for one of many Christmas photos when you were six...” Cécilia pointed at the building in the far distance of the photo, “That is the Wyrmwood estate in Kalos. Where you grew up until you were taken.”

“But I wasn’t–”

“Your father has been lying to you, my dear.” Cécilia softly responded, reaching to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder only to have her instantly be shrugged off. The older woman held back a sigh as she continued, “He’s been lying to you about so much. That man is not named Cedric Hargrove but rather Lucien Wyrmwood… Much like how your name isn’t Esper Hargove–”

Esper’s chest began to rapidly rise and fall. No. No. No no nononono– This wasn’t real– This can’t be real–

“–but rather Estelle Lucille Wyrmwood… Lucien took both you and Flynn on November thirtieth twenty-seventeen and we’ve been looking for you ever since…”

“No. No– No no no–” Esper repeated in a frenzy. Her eyes began to tear up as she felt the pit in her stomach begin to twist and churn, a shooting pain firing through her as she felt her heart begin to strain and hurt. That was all she felt. Hurt. “Wh– Why would he– He wouldn’t do that—”

“Because he cheated on his wife, your brother’s mother, and had you with another woman–” Cécilia continued despite Esper’s protests, her brows furrowing as she tried to find the words, “We… We hadn’t known that was the case and it’s an incredibly long and upsetting story that I feel as though should be shared with you at another time–”

“You’re lying–” Esper interrupted the older woman, her voice strained, “You have to be lying– Pl– Please be lying–”

She can’t trust this woman. She doesn’t know this woman. Who can she trust? Was there anyone here she could trust? Was there anyone here who wouldn’t lie to her for some unforeseen gain?

Victoria.

Esper whipped her head around to look at the girl, tuning out Cécilia's voice with relative ease as she stared at her friend with pleading eyes. Victoria would tell her. Victoria would tell her the truth.

And as if Victoria could hear her thoughts, she lifted her gaze to look Esper in the eye. With trembling hands, she slowly reached to pull off her gloves, exposing the eye-shaped tattoo on the back of her hand. Setting the glove aside, she wordlessly extended her exposed hand to Esper with a small nod.

An invitation to discover the truth for herself.

She knew Esper would believe every word she said. And yet she was giving her the option anyway.

Esper stared at the open hand for a moment, fear of what she may learn causing her to hesitate and second guess if she really wanted to know. But she did. She so desperately did. Because if this was all a lie then she would need to worry about why she was being lied to. And if it wasn’t…

The room became dead silent as Esper slowly took her friend’s hand into her own.

The memory of two young girls flashed into her mind: one with dark blue hair and small freckles on her cheeks, and the other… the girl from the picture. The two girls were playing with dolls in a beautiful garden, burying a Ken doll that had clearly been set on fire in recent history. On the other side of the makeshift grave stood a towering Pangoro and Matador, Victoria’s Armarouge, lowering their heads solemnly as if attending a funeral service. The Pangoro pretended to wipe a tear from his eye as he held his cabbie hat to his chest. The girls put the Ken doll in a casket and lowered it into the grave. Normal little girl stuff.

But that was clearly a younger Victoria. And that was clearly a younger Esper. Estelle? A younger her.

The memory melted away as the girl’s hand slipped from her friend’s, falling limply at her side as she slowly turned back to Cécilia. She could hear that Cécilia was attempting to speak to her but no matter how much she strained, no matter how much she tried, she could not hear her. She could barely even see her face. 

Something wet hit her arm, pulling her gaze downwards to see dark spotting along her hospital gown. Tear stains. When did she start crying? How long had she been crying?

Esper could feel her throat squeezing tightly shut, narrowing her airways and making it harder to fill her lungs with air but when she could she could her chest heaving and shaking. Her heart was being strangled from within, sharp pains shooting through like salt to tender wounds. Her hands were unsteady as she wrapped them around herself in a tight embrace, squirming away as she felt someone else's hands try to reach for her. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to be touched.

She felt cold, clammy, as if all worth had been sucked from her in an instant. Thousands of thoughts ran through her head as tears stained her cheeks and mucus filled her nose. Everything hurt. Her muscles, her heart, her mind. Everything. Hurt. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts–

She felt sick. 

Esper could barely feel her own mind as she tried to look at the faces around her, finding that her vision was startlingly becoming more and more fuzzy as seconds passed to such a point she wasn’t even convinced that she could see. “I don’t–” She choked out, her voice nearly inaudible, “I don’t feel well….”

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She could not think as her vision faded into nothingness and Esper, the now no longer missing Wyrmwood girl, collapsed onto her hospital bed.

Scene End.

===============

[ Victoria, Reina, and Alamar all belong to @victoria-vd / @jaimemes ]

[gothamghostwhispers]

Artem tríes to wipe away the blood on their face but all they really manage to do is smear it a bit since their nose was still bleeding. Deciding that was futile they instead move the synthesizer to the center of the cage. They take a deep breath before they begin to play Goodbye to a World by Porter Robinson.

The somber tune builds slowly into a crescendo that is met by operatic vocals from Artem. They think of their children, their boyfriend, a life they might not get to lead. They wonder if this is how their mother felt when she realized she was going to die. They channel all their fear and worry and regret and longing into those melodic tones. Just in case. Just in case they had to say goodbye

“Thank you, I'll say goodbye soon

Though its the end of the world

Don't blame yourself now”

Tears well up in their eyes, they must look a mess but they still look to the camera and smile. They know their kids will watch this if the worst happens.

“And if its true

I will surround you and give life to a world

That's our own”

Artem projects love into the words for their children. Blood tears and love blend. A charge in the air.

“Thank you, I'll say goodbye now

Though its the end of the world

Don't blame yourself

And if its true

I will surround you and give life to a world

That's our own”

As the rhythm dips miles away Benny, Pete, and Brie feel a warmth settle around them. Selene perks up.

As Artem rocks the synth they think about what would happen with the kids. This isn’t a goon related incident…. They wonder if Beau would care for them. If they would still be a family… fuck. They aren’t ready to let go! Love, blood, tears. Even if the worst happens. They aren’t ready to let go. A charge fills the air again.

“Thank you, I'll say goodbye soon

Though its the end of the world, don't blame yourself now”

The rhythm builds again and Artem uses that energy.

“And if its true

I will surround you and give life to a world”

The stain glass shattered, Artem continues to play but the charge in the air is lost.

“Oh” they project as much confusion as they can manage.

[whumpbump]

Cw: implied future SA, mentions of sobriety from drugs and the effects it had, stranded and abducted at gunpoint

Whumpee hadn’t even realized how low their gas was getting until they saw the next rest stop wasn’t for another 35 miles and it was too far to turn back.

“Ugh. You did it this time, Whumpee.” Grumbling under their breath, they tried to see if they had cell reception. It was a fairly traveled road, but it was late.

As time dragged on, Whumpee slowly went through all their contacts. No one was awake, or answering at least. Whumpee felt like they deserved that. They’d just gotten clean and they were attempting to start a new life away from the town they grew up in so they could stay clean. Everyone was used to Whumpee’s antics and reaching out hysterically at random hours so one rarely picked up when Whumpee called.

As hopelessness set in, a spark of hope flickered. Headlights! Whumpee waved their arms while standing a safe distance from the road near their car.

The van came to a halt a couple feet ahead, and the driver rolled the passenger window down.

“You alright?” the shadowy figure asked.

“Not really. I’m about out of gas. Would you happen to have a gas can with you? I, I could pay you! I have some cash on me!”

The figure chuckled darkly. “I can think of other forms of payment that would work.”

Whumpee’s stomach dropped. They backed away slowly. “Oh um actually I think I’ll just wait for my mom to pick me up. Thanks for stopping though.”

The voice changed from a sultry smooth to a grating harsh. “I don’t think that’s true, and you no longer have a choice. Get in the van.”

Knowing better than to argue after hearing the click of a gun, Whumpee tearfully entered the van. The tears began to roll when they saw a dirty mattress in the back. From their experiences, they knew enough to know they were in serious danger.

Upon seeing what was in store for them, their heart surged as they tried to jump back out. There was no lock to be undone on that side of the car. They were trapped.

[justplainwhump]

Spotted

Co-written with @hackles-up. Part of the Ridley-Dies-Arc, can be read on it's own. B and Tom (aka second bad guy) are her characters.

Dany and B's escape takes a bad turn.

[Masterlist]

Content / Warnings: BBU elements, recapture, feverish whumpee, restraints, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, abduction, threats of noncon.

Being the daughter of a man like my father, I've been taught quite a lot about being on the run, even though I've rarely been myself. The importance of high quality fake papers, for example, and how much further you can get if you just behave like a rich person; how with the right tip a concierge at the Ritz will surely keep you out of the books, while a dingy motel owner might sell you out for the price of a Big Mac.

It's ironic, that we have both of that - good documents and good money -, and still need to rely on the very dingy sort of accommodations. Because all I learned didn't take into account being the subjects of a nationwide manhunt for the murder of a mafia-affiliated just-not-billionaire. Or hiding a huge, broad-shouldered traumatized man with sharp titanium teeth who refuses to take off his collar.

We've slept in the car, twice, but B's fever had only become worse, and none of us had been able to close an eye.

We're at a rest stop on a highway, a small shady restaurant with a bunch of guest rooms above it. A significant share of these is most likely occupied by the prostitutes sitting at the bar right now, slightly bored because it's not yet their time of the night. It makes me feel better, in a way. Means the police aren't quite welcome here. That can only be good for us.

B has stepped away for the washroom, and I'm just studying the road map once more, when a thin man in a leather jacket slips into my booth and sits down in B's spot.

Under the table, my hand wraps around my gun. I can help myself, but it would create attention, and attention is the very last thing we need.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, while he looks me down. Black jeans, oversized black Tee, short gloves, dark baseball cap over a short bob. I look nothing like the pictures from the wanted posters. I also look nothing like a sweetheart.

"Fuck off," I tell him. "That seat is taken."

He chuckles. "You don't even want to hear my offer?"

"Pretty sure I do not, no."

"I can get you out." He gestures roughly towards the border. "Out of the country. Friend's got an airplane, used to... unregistered cargo."

"What makes you think I want to leave?"

He laughs, points at my cap, my baggy clothes, the duffle bag between my feet. "I know the looks of people like you. And I know this place isn't exactly a spa retreat. People come here for reasons."

"Oh yeah?" With the hand above the table, I take a sip of my coke. "And say I were interested. How much would that flight be?"

The stranger tilts his head towards the restrooms. "Your... buddy back there. Built like a brick, isn't he? Seems like he can handle himself quite well."

I lift my chin in alarm, while he just leans in conspiratorially, and asks, "WRU material?"

I clench my jaw and shake my head.

"If he came back, and I said the magic word, what would he do, huh, princess?"

I can't help but tense at the pet name. At the implication.

"What would you do, huh?" He gives me a slow smile. "Wanna give it a try? Respect!"

"Fuck off." I slam my gun onto the table, trained at him, keeping my voice low. "I'm not a runaway pet, nor is my friend. I've just had some trouble with some assholes, and it didn't end well for them. If you don't want to test your luck, I think you should just walk away and forget we've ever met."

He stares at the gun and lifts his hand in a mock gesture of defeat. "Gosh, you're a flimsy one, aren't you? Alright, I'm leavin', I'm leavin'."

My heart is racing, as I watch him retreat through the front doors, looking back to me with a final mock salute.

It still does, when B returns to the table. He still looks exhausted, his eyes dull, with deep rings underneath, feverish sweat glinting on his forehead. 'Seems like he can handle himself well', the man has said. Fucking ironic, a threat within a threat.

B needs a break. And I’m not giving him one. I toss two bills onto the counter and grab the uneaten burger from the plate, before I nod at him. "We gotta go."

“Trouble?” He asks, moving in step with me as I move. All professional, all alert Guard Dog. Both of us know how much it costs him to keep it up.

"Yeah." I cast a glance around. Nobody seems to spare us any attention, but I've been fooled before. I hadn't seen the guy coming. And he must've been watching us for a while. Fuck. I'm pretty sure that I haven't convinced him. Just need to hope that he'll find easier prey. Or that we'll be gone before he returns. "Some gangster spotted us. Can't tell you what he wants exactly, he doesn't know about the bounty, but way too interested in you to be safe."

I lift the heavy bag and throw it over my shoulder. It's better if I carry it than him. He's sick; and he needs his hands free. "He left through the front door. Don't think we've seen the last of him though." I bite my lip. "Any other way out?"

B nods, indicating to his right hand side. "This way."

He makes steady determined steps past the bathrooms and towards the back entrance, almost betraying the exhaustion he must be feeling. Just as I try to let myself be fooled, too, though, he wavers for a moment, stumbling and reaching to hold himself on the wall.

I'm by his side right away, holding out my arm to steady him from the other side. He's burning, even through his clothes. His fever has become worse. A plane ride would've been just what we needed. Fucking asshole.

I rest a hand on B's hot cheek. "It's not far," I promise. "Two more days, and we can find Frankie's friends, and rest there."

I had thought about just leaving our car behind, making a run through the fields behind the rest stop, and just find someone who sells us their car for enough cash.

But B isn't even well enough to make it to the parking lot in one run. I grimace, making sure the gun is where I can reach it. I can't use any police attention. But if that's the price to pay to get B out of here safely, so be it.

Whatever that guy is up to, he's bad news; he's a threat, and he won't be any more with a bullet in his chest. I wonder for a second, if Dad would like that reasoning. He never wanted me to think that way. But there's many things about my life that he's never wanted.

"Come on, Ben," I say quietly. "We need to keep moving. You can hold on to me, alright? You can sleep in the car."

B bunches his hand into a fist against the wall, exhaling with a groan.

"Nh... No... 'M fine, Dany... I can do this." He mutters, and pushes himself off of the wall and stumbles forward, shrugging off my hand. "We can't stay here."

He pushes himself against the back door, holding it open with his body so I may slip out.

Something moves behind me. There’s a hand on my side, and cold metal pressed to the back of my head. They came from behind. Of course they did. Fuck. Fuck.

"Stay nice and still, pretty thing." someone murmurs.

I will not.

"B!" I shout, when I feel the barrel shift as he reaches around me, fumbling for my gun. I spin the other way, let the heavy duffel bag slam into his side and shoulder, while I grab my gun myself. The attacker stumbles, but catches himself too quickly, his gun in front of my face just as I bring my own up.

Fury is burning in his eyes. "You fucking... Don't fucking move or I'll put one in your knee. Sluts don't need to walk."

In front of us, B lets out a low growl. He bares his titanium teeth, taking a shaky step forward. The backdoor is still open, the night air wafting in.

"Oh no you don’t," the stranger hisses, pulling back the safety on his gun and pointing it at my leg. "I saw his collar. Tell your pet to back down or I'll shoot."

My mind is racing.

My gun is still in my hands, half way up. I could get a bullet in his chest, but he'll be faster, shooting my leg. I could kill him, but we'd never get away.

They want us alive. They want us alive, and they don't know who we are, so chances are they want us alive and not torture us to death.

Sickening as it is to admit, we'll stand better chances later. It feels like a betrayal, when I say, "Stand down, B."

B’s glare stays on the man, burning and deadly. He dropped his defensive stance immediately, though.

I don't lower my own gun.

"What do you want?"

He doesn’t reply, keeps his own gun level, while he remarks, “Impressive. It’s very responsive to you. How did you get your hands on a Guard Dog, huh? Must’ve cost a fortune. Daddy bought him for you?” He sneers.

Daddy. My hand trembles and I need my other hand to steady it and the gun. "Daddy is not in the picture any longer. And he answers to me," I reply. "What do you want? There isn't a lot to get out of us. The Guard Dog is old and sick, he isn't worth much any longer, but we can talk money." Ridley's words taste sour in my mouth. I hope B gets why I have to talk like this. They need to let us go.

The man just laughs. “Oh I wouldn’t discount you two so quickly.” He takes a step forward. “Now I need you to lower that gun and come with me. I’ll tell you all you wanna know then.”

“Don’t move…” B grits out. “We won’t go… anywhere with you.”

“Oh it talks too. Clever doggy.”

"Don't come closer," I hiss. "And don't talk to him like that. Or I'll shoot, and I won't bother aiming for the leg."

When I notice the shadowy movements behind B, it's too late. Something lowers around his neck and yanks him back.

I lose all control.

"No," I yell and stumble over towards him. "No! B!"

He’s falling, catching himself just before he hits the ground and lunges with teeth bared at his assailants, fighting the noose around his throat.

“Oh no you fucking don’t.” The man behind me is on me, grabs me in a vicious choke hold, arm pressing into my throat and kicking my legs out from underneath me to send me crashing to the ground. The gun falls from my hand, clattering across the floor behind me.

I have eyes only for the scene in front of me, the long catch pole, the noose lanyard choking B’s neck, his desperate, feverish thrashes. He’s panting for breath already.

"Stop," I shout, half sobbing. "B. Don't. Don't."

At the sound of my voice, B freezes in place.

It’s enough. The men yank back on the pole, sending him crashing into the ground.

The man behind me presses me down, pinned under his weight.

“Shhh, there’s a good girl", the stranger breathes in my ear, wrenching my arms back and fixating them with zip ties, while hissing obscenities into my hair.

Good girl.

I have betrayed B. I have betrayed myself, giving up this fight.

The man's hands are wandering over my ass. I don't care. All I care about is the man folded over on the other side of the back door, the man whom I promised to get him to safety.

My eyes are burning with tears.

I swallow back a sob.

"Don't hurt him," I whisper. "Please. Fuck me however you want to, I'll let you, but please, don't hurt him."

“Oh I think we’ll do whatever we please, sweetheart.” He murmurs, hand still firm on my ass. “We’ll take good care of your dog. Better than you have. Get it back on its feet and it’s gonna earn us a fortune in the dog fights.”

Better than you have. I can't breathe. He's right. I've almost let him die of this fever, keeping him on the run, always on his ties, never allowing us to rest.

The man who’s sat in the booth with me has stepped in outside, kneeling on B’s back.

I watch with tears in my eyes, as he pulls out a collar.

I didn't have a choice, I tell myself. I had to.

I’ve failed him, nonetheless.

I’ve failed us both.

---------

-

Tag list (this is a very old one; lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @distinctlywhumpthing @whumping-on-the-ridge @queenofthenoobs @ocean-blue-whump