One of my absolute favorite tropes is
“We have taken the one you love most!”
“Oh, have you? Good fukken luck lmao”
*distant screams of kidnappers as loved one escapes*
or the flipside:
“We’ve kidnapped you!”
“You are in so much trouble. You are in so much fucking trouble. You are in the most trouble ever, oh my god.”
*DOOR EXPLODES INWARDS AS LOVED ONE ARRIVES*
and the alternate:
*vehicle pulls up, door opens, person is shoved out, door slams, vehicle screeches away*
“Did you get kidnapped??”
“For a minute yeah”
whunmpee that breaks my heart the most isn’t whumpee that is terrified, but whumpee that is happy — not a feisty kind of happy where they laugh and mock whumper, but an innocent, childlike and naive kind of happy where they don’t know what is about to happen to them. they still think that they are safe, even when they’re held captive by whumper, because they are so pure and innocent that they don’t know there are bad people in this world.
they don’t understand what they did wrong when whumper tortured them. they don’t understand why any of this is happening. they were literally smiling innocently when they were escorted to the room in which they’d be tortured.
this literally fucks me up. I need caretaker to come save them asap :(
In the wake of the devastating news of Moya’s passing, I wanted to make something that we as a community could gather around. One of the difficulties of death on the internet is the lack - of answers, of closure, of even a place to visit.
If anyone would like to, you’re welcome to visit this memorial website. I made it, but I don’t own it. It doesn’t belong to me. I encourage everyone to share their favorite memories of Moya, their art, and grieve together. I’ve linked crisis lines if people feel they need more support (which I completely understand.) I’ve also linked an opportunity to donate to The Trevor Project, a charity that specializes in helping LGBTQ+ youth and teens when they’re in crisis. They just began serving Mexico (Moya’s home country) last year. Granted, Moya was not a teen, but I think they would appreciate the gesture. If you’re not able to donate, that’s completely ok too. Please don’t feel obligated, I just wanted to create the opportunity for people who might want it.
Moya will be missed so much. I hope this helps ease the pain of that, just a little bit.
Hello! I’m Lavender (she/her) and I’ve finally decided to make a separate blog for my oc stuff. This is a side blog and my main one is @lavndvrr if you’re interested in my fandom and other writing
I’ve been lurking on whumblr for a year or two and I’m so exited to finally be sharing my writing here. Feel free to send me an ask, I promise I don’t bite ;)
I would like to request a drabble with a whumper who has mind-reading and/or telepathic communication abilities but not actual mind control.
content: mind reading/telepathic stuff, captivity, intimate whumper
Oh, what’s this?
Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut even tighter and tried to empty their mind. Anything they thought of right now, Whumper could sense. And see. And use against them.
“Get the fuck out of my head,” they ground out. The invasive presence only got stronger.
Why? We’re just getting to know each other. Why don’t we play a little game?
“I don’t care for your stupid games!”
I say a word, you think of something associated with it. Let’s see… Love.
Horrifyingly, treacherously, a picture of Caretaker immediately floated to the forefront of their consciousness. Their bright smile, their soft hair, the way they had softly snored just two days ago next to them in bed.
Sweet, Whumper’s voice crooned.
“Get out!” Whumpee snapped. “Get the fuck out of my head!”
Next word! Fear.
Oh, it was humiliating, the way Whumper’s image immediately popped up, along with some memories of spiders and heights and little holes in the wall.
Aw, you’re afraid of me.
“I’m thinking about you because you’re in my head.”
“We both know that’s untrue,” Whumper mercifully said out loud, instead of beaming it straight into their brain. “You’re terrified of this little ability I have.”
Whumpee blinked their eyes open and looked up, defiantly holding their stare. “You can poke around in my head all you want, fucker. Whatever information you’re looking for isn’t with me.”
Whumper smiled and playfully booped their nose. “You have all the information I need, rest assured. All the information on how to break that pesky will of yours.”
Sorry, sorry, but manipulative hurt/comfort is fucking cocaine to me. The predatory aspect of it. The vulnerability—500% better if the hurt party knows they're being manipulated and is past the point of caring. The juxtaposition of sweet and sharp flavours. Barkbarkbark