welcome to my guilty pleasure blog!! my name is bea and I'm 30. mostly using this space to explore different themes and ideas related to writing and of course all things whump.
Favorite tropes: captivity whump, recovery fluff/comfort, found family, noncon whump (always tagged), emotional whump, protective caretaker, forced to watch, happy/hopeful endings (even if - especially? - it takes a hot minute to get there)
Original Posts:
my prompts
my polls
my drabbles
Original Stories:
Unmade
Vienna’s abduction by a sadistic serial predator, Alec, forces her to endure unimaginable suffering which she survives only through the memories of her loved ones, including boyfriend/best friend Zander. While Zander spirals in grief, he forms an unexpected bond with a case agent, which leads him to an encounter with Alec that results in his own capture. Reunited in captivity, Vienna and Zander face more horrors before finally escaping. The story shifts to their healing process, where love, family, and resilience help them reclaim their lives after the darkness.
(Main characters - Vienna, Zander, Alec, Miller)
The Last Flame
Set in the dystopian future state of Syndora. Rixton, a pilot in the resistance group the Forge, is captured by the oppressive Syndoran regime and tortured for years, haunted by the deaths of innocent people. When he is finally rescued, he returns to the Forge to find Asher, his former love, who had believed him dead and strove to move on. As Rixton and Asher both battle guilt and the broken trust between them, they must navigate the long road to healing in the midst of a still-burning revolution.
I love it when a character laughs uncarefully and their soft laugh turns into a groan, and then they still smile a little despite frowning in pain. I love this mixed expression of frowning and smiling for some reason. Especially when the character laughs because of something the caretaker said or did.
Fire Whumper - Every touch, even gentle, burns Whumpee, causing blisters and areas where the skin died. Whumpee constantly feeling too hot and covered in sweat, passing out from heatstroke.
Water Whumper - Casually holding Whumpee down with their hand over Whumpee’s face, drowning them. Whumpee always feeling cold and damp, getting some kind of bacterial fungal infection.
Wind Whumper - Throwing Whumpee around like a ragdoll and hitting them against things with just a wave of their hand. Whumpee flinching at the feeling of any breeze, having really bad windburn and dry eye.
Earth Whumper - Their hits are hard, sharp, and heavy, leaving Whumpee out of breath and trembling face down on the ground. Whumpee layered with bruises and incorrectly healed bones, usually covered in some kind of dust or dirt.
sighs dreamily. finally finally i can release this to the masses. please enjoy in the interim between chapters <3
cw: nightmares, guilt.. (typical clem), whumpee x caretaker
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The nightmares were so common that Clem was ashamed to even acknowledge that they hurt. Surely they should be used to it by now. It wasn't so much the image as it was the implication. They would have been able to deal with it better if all they had to defend was themselves. They could sacrifice things, limbs, their sanity, and they could win.
But there was always someone else there. Someone who they couldn't help, someone who they couldn't reach in time, someone who died even as Clem tried everything they could think of to keep them alive. They really thought they had it this time, but there she was, eyes open and lifeless, body limp in their arms. Composure was impossible.
No, no, no, please, please not you, please not this, not again, not again - not you -
They woke up, suddenly aware of fabric around their limbs. They'd fallen asleep sprawled out, but had at some point curled up around themselves and held Elene's hand, not that they were fully aware of the fact now. Trapped state between lucidity and unconsciousness, they felt their breathing come heavy and panicked, unable to do or say anything other than grip the sheets and force away the shadows in their mind. Relief came slowly as their mind processed the false images, and they let go of Elene's hand as soon as they realised how tightly they were holding on. What if they hurt her? Their comfort wasn't worth that.
Breathe, Clem. They had to actively force themselves to take bigger, shuddering breaths, curled up protectively against nothing and no one at all. Every muscle in their body was pulled taut and afraid. All because of a stupid dream? They were better than that. They had to be better than that.
If they had the choice, they'd never risk disturbing Elene's sleep. But they couldn't reject her, couldn't fathom saying no. So they silenced themselves as much as possible, tried to be still and unobtrusive, so as not to wake her. It didn't always work. It didn't work now.
She stirred. Clem sighed, embarrassed. She was such a light sleeper, and their limbs often tangled up too much to extricate oneself without doing what they wanted to avoid.
“Hey,” she murmured, eyes still closed but blindly navigating to face them in the dim light of the room. “You're sweating.”
They shivered as she pulled hair from their face, wincing as they pushed themselves up. Everything hurt. It was usually best in the mornings, so they dreaded how much worse it would get later.
“Sorry,” they whispered. “I'll - clean up.”
They could feel everything now, and felt impossibly grateful that any tears on the pillow could easily be explained away. What was worse? They were not ashamed of the crying, just that the gaping chasm in their chest ached more when they realised it had happened in their sleep.
“Oh, love. C'mere, it's okay. Another nightmare?” Her eyes were open now, and unbearably soft. It'd knock them over if they weren't already sitting.
They nodded, leaning forward to touch their head to her shoulder. “Sorry. I woke you.”
Elene clicked her tongue and they felt vestigial ears pin back. “No apologies. It's no trouble. Just breathe for me?” Her voice alone soothed them, even before they'd taken in the words. In the quiet of their bedroom, Clem let themselves be held. Images flashed through their mind, both real and imagined, and if they held her tighter as they shuddered to think of them, she made no protest.
“You shouldn't need to…” they trailed off because they didn't know what to say. If there was anything to say that they hadn't said already. Elene came up with retorts for everything, and she was so much better at it than they were. She won every time.
“My knight,” she whispered. She had a hand over their heart. She knew exactly what saying that would do to them. “I love you.”
Not fair. How could they argue with that?
Elene kissed the top of their head, and they smiled despite the residual feeling of heaviness and panic waiting just behind their eyelids.
“I could run you a bath,“ she offered quietly after a while, running a hand over their shoulders. “You're so tense.“
Clem stammered, looking away. “I - you don't need to. I'll just shower, it's - it's fine.”
She hummed, her discontentment obvious. It killed them sometimes. She cupped their chin, turning their face so they faced her. She was the only one who could do that with them. They wore armour with everyone, but she stripped them bare.
“You sure?”
“I- yes. I don't need -”
Elene cut them off. “But do you want?”
And there it was. Fuck.
She giggled, shuffling back to get off the bed and stretch. “I'll run you a bath.”
They sighed, smiling - a little rueful, but it wasn't like this hadn't happened before. She knew they couldn't argue with her.
Clem didn't move immediately, accidentally mesmerised. An aura of warm gold and spots of pale blue from the hanging stars surrounded her, and as she shook out her hair to retie, they could swear that she herself glowed. They could swear it on their many lives. It was astounding. How had they managed to find her? How had she figured out how to make them stay?
“You coming?” She whispered, holding the curtain open for them.
I'd follow you anywhere, they thought. But that vow was for another day. For now, Clem just settled for a quiet, reverent, “yes.”
content: past trauma, implied past kidnapping, implied past torture, aftermath of whump, team whump
"Whumpee?" Caretaker asked in disbelief. Whumpee was on the team's main base's doorstep, and while they looked a little dishevelled, they looked… fine. And they were smiling.
"Hello," they said. Caretaker didn't waste a single moment before falling into their arms, embracing them tightly. "Whoa, whoa—"
"You were gone for two days and nobody knew anything and I was so worried and you never told me you were going away—"
"Slow down," they said with a small laugh.
"Whumpee?" came Leader's voice from behind them, and Caretaker painfully tore themself away from Whumpee so Leader could take a look as well.
"It's them!" Caretaker exclaimed. Leader walked over and took a good look at Whumpee — scrutinising. Almost like they didn't believe it was really Whumpee.
"Where were you? We all tried calling."
"Ah," Whumpee said, rubbing the back of their neck awkwardly. "I needed a bit of a break, I guess. Sorry I didn't tell you."
"You ought to be. Everyone was worried sick. If you needed a break, there are protocols for that, I would've granted—"
"I'm back now," Whumpee cut in gently. "I won't go away again."
Leader nodded. "Well, it's good to have you back."
—
It was so mundane. A spoon had clattered to the floor when Caretaker was preparing lunch. They didn't even realise what a fatal mistake that had been on their part until they turned around and saw Whumpee curled up in their chair, hands over their ears, rocking back and forth. "Whumpee?"
In the past few days, Whumpee hadn't told them where they'd gone away to, no matter how many times they asked. But they'd spoken of their little outing so nonchalantly, so casually, that Caretaker assumed they really did just need a break. This was the first time they considered the other option — that Whumpee lied to spare them.
"Whumpee, are you okay?" they tried gently. Whumpee was mumbling to themself, seemingly oblivious to Caretaker prodding. "Whumpee, hey—"
"Get away from me!" they said, kicking Caretaker when they tried to reach out and touch them. Caretaker jumped back.
"Whoa, whoa, hey, Whumpee, it's me—"
"Get away from me! Get away!"
The shouting brought the team together in the small kitchen, and everyone was just as flabbergasted as Caretaker. Nobody had ever seen Whumpee so freaked out. Crying, even. Whumpee wasn't a crier. Or, hadn't been.
"Whumpee?" Leader tried, but Whumpee kicked and screamed and wouldn't let anyone approach. "Okay, everyone, out."
"But—" Caretaker tried, but Leader shut them down.
"Out. I'll take care of Whumpee."
Caretaker didn't know what that entailed. They wanted to know. They wanted to be there. They wanted to help. But Leader was the leader for a reason, and so they nodded and left their best friend in their care.
They went back to their room and sat on the bed. They could still hear Whumpee's terrified cries from the kitchen.
Whumpee's return home is celebrated from friends and family. They're overjoyed, hugging them, celebrating their safety, so happy to have whumpee safe and sound.
Whumpee has only ever experienced sex as a painful, violent assault, so when they're hanging out with some friends and hear one of them tease someone they're gossiping about for apparently crying during sex, Whumpee is confused. Who wouldn't cry? It hurts. But when Whumpee says this to the group, suddenly they are the confused ones because "That's not normal Whumpee. What the fuck kinda sex have you been having?"
one the others is smirking, raising an eyebrow like they think it's a joke - like whumpee is doing some kinky stuff and playing innocent about it. but friend doesn't think that's it. whumpee's face isn't full of mischief or innuendo. they just look... uncomfortable and confused. it hurts, they'd said. about sex. sex hurts. who wouldn't cry?
like that was normal. like they had experience, and that experience involved pain. enough pain to cry.
"why are you looking at me like that?" whumpee asks. they seem embarrassed, like they regret saying anything. "does nobody talk about that part? we were talking about sex before, why are you... stop looking at me like that!"
"what do you mean it hurts?" friend asks. they wave the others quiet. they're not helping. if whumpee thinks they're being judged, this is just going to get worse. "do you mean like-"
"i mean every time i've had sex it's been painful and horrible and i've just gritted my teeth and got through it! and now you're all looking at me like i'm crazy, and it-"
"you're not crazy," friend says. they feel bad for interrupting, but whumpee was starting to breathe quick and shallow. "i just- we're worried. it's not- unless people talk about it first, and they want that, it's not supposed to hurt. if it hurts. you should talk to the person you're sleeping with so you can figure out how to make it better, so they can touch you how you want."
whumpee laughs. it's sudden and sharp. "how i want? that's not how it works. if it was about what i wanted, it wouldn't happen at all."
a cold chill of realization sweeps through the small group all at once.
listen up I need to talk about characters in pain alone. a fighter who won their most recent match but who goes home alone to a crappy little apartment where they’re lucky if they manage to make some ramen before they pass out on the couch, only to wake stiff with bruises in a few hours. a vigilante who loses to the villain and gets left on a rooftop to pick themself up and try to stagger home without getting found, arrested, or passing out in their costume. the new member on a team who gets the dirtiest, hardest jobs as an initiation and who can’t admit to anyone that they’re breaking under the pressure because all their teammates will hear is weakness.
I need characters pasting bandages on injuries with trembling fingers as their vision blurs. I need characters desperately trying to haul themselves up just one more stair so they can stagger to their front door. I need characters who make it through that door only to collapse right behind it, watching the light in their bathroom blur and fade before they can get to their first aid kit. I need characters passing out in alleyways only to wake up hours later and know they still have to try to make it home on their own because they think they have no one to call.
