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.
Since you're writing a story about captivity with Unmade I wanted to recommend SCP-8980 to you, another story about a woman in captivity. This is a spoiler, but I will warn you that the original story does not have a happy ending with the main character not doing very well in recovery, but the author has confirmed that later on she does end up doing better and is able to be happy again in the years that follow. They also wrote a post recovery poem called Feminine Wails if that interests you.
I read this last night and omg it was so bleak!! 😭 a very interesting story though and I really loved the format of how it was written with the little notes and everything
"I can't-" Whumpee's breath shakes and stutters as they force the words out, nearly choking on them in their desperate wheezing. "Please- please I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't-" Tears are clogging their throat, a stinging burn in the corners of their eyes as they look up at Whumper, chest heaving and trembling with each ragged inhale. it hurts. god, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts-
"Ah ah. Shhh, shhh Whumpee" The ropes around their wrists chafe and burn against their struggling as Whumper looks down at them with a leering grin, fingers trailing against their bare side. "Who said you had a choice in the matter?" Whumpee continues to tug against their bindings, thrashing harder as Whumper's hand travels lower and lower until it's resting right where they want it the least, smiling down at them with sadistic pleasure.
Whumpee can't stop the sob that tears out of their throat at the action, trying and failing to pull away. Whumper just coos. "I love hearing you cry like this though. So go on sweetheart, beg pretty for me."
Whumper who uses Whumpee as a a stress relief tool, taking out all the frustrations and negative interactions they had on Whumpee and defiant Whumpee who shoots the insults others mocked Whumper with right back at them.
content: major character death, death, murder, knives, stabbed, emotional whump
"No!" Whumpee cried, pressing on Caretaker's wound with all their might. "No, no, no, no no no no no, no!"
"Give it up, Whumpee," Whumper said. "They're a goner."
"No!" they screamed, and they held onto the light that was still in Caretaker's eyes, the way Caretaker still smiled at them with bloody teeth as if to reassure them that all would be okay. They couldn't talk anymore, everything they tried to say turned into a coughing fit, but they could still smile, even if it turned into a pained grimace once or twice. "Caretaker, I'll fix it, okay? I'll fix it. I swear. I'll fix it."
"Give it up," Whumper repeated. "I know where to stab to kill someone. This isn't my first rodeo."
No. No. No. Caretaker couldn't be dying. For the first time ever, Whumpee hadn't been alone. For the first time ever, Whumpee had a family in Caretaker. Even if it was just one person. Even if their relationship didn't fit traditional moulds, like parent-child, or siblings, or anything. They had Caretaker. Caretaker had been their everything in the past months.
But Whumper had come back. And they had come back with a vengeance, targeting Whumpee's only solace, knowing that if they took Caretaker, Whumpee would go with them. Not physically, maybe — and only because Whumpee didn't have access to the knife Whumper had stabbed Caretaker with, if they did, they would've slit their throat with it when they saw Caretaker wasn't going to make it — but emotionally. Whumpee would check out. Whumpee would be Whumper's, fully Whumper's, again. Because Whumper couldn't have that. That Whumpee's heart belonged to someone else.
"Give it up," Whumper said for the third time. Whumpee was still pressing on the wound, but blood was seeping through their fingers. Caretaker's precious blood.
"I—" Caretaker tried, but they coughed.
"Don't talk," Whumpee said between sobs. "Don't talk. Save your energy. I'll fix this. You'll be okay."
Caretaker slowly reached up and cupped Whumpee's face. Their palm was bloody from where they'd pressed it against their own wound, but Whumpee didn't care. It was Caretaker's touch. So gentle. So soft.
They couldn't talk. But they could communicate. And Whumpee knew exactly what they were communicating.
I love you. I'll always love you.
Tears trickled down Whumpee's cheeks. "I'll fix this," they whispered. "I'll fix it. I swear to you, Caretaker, please, just hold on, just a little longer, please—"
"That's enough." Whumper grabbed Whumpee by the hair and pulled them away. As soon as the support of their knees was yanked away from under Caretaker's head, it lolled to the floor, to the side, almost like Caretaker was nothing but a dead body by now. But they were still alive. They were. There was still a chance of saving them.
"No!" Whumpee screamed, kicking and scratching and doing whatever they could to get back to Caretaker. "Let me go!"
"They're as good as dead," Whumper growled. "Give it up."
"No, I can save them, I just need a little time, I just—"
Whumper let go and punched them in the face. Whumpee fell to the floor, blood running from their nose. They didn't care. Caretaker had a much bigger problem, and Whumpee tried fruitlessly to crawl back to them and save them. Whumper stepped on their back, keeping them down. "They're dead. Look at them."
No, there was still a little movement to their chest. Rising and falling. They were still breathing. "Let me go," they begged, begged, because Whumper liked it when they begged, and maybe they would overlook the horrible, horrible choice they'd made in getting attached to somebody else.
Whumper sighed and stepped off. Whumpee immediately scrambled to get back to Caretaker.
It was too late. The small movements of breathing had ceased. When Whumpee put a hand on Caretaker's chest, they didn't feel a heartbeat. Caretaker was still smiling serenely, an expression that would be frozen on their face forever now. Their eyes were still open, though fixed on nothing. Whumpee let out an inarticulate scream.
"Happy now?" Whumper asked.
Whumper was good. They were good at tracking Whumpee, good at destroying everything dear to Whumpee, good at trying to get them back. But they'd made one fatal mistake in their calculations; they assumed that once Caretaker was gone, Whumpee would simply go back to being theirs.
When a Caretaker rescues Whumpee and Caretaker is whispering "You're okay", "I'm here", "I got you", "you're safe", othet comforting words as if they're helping a wounded animal or a scared child.
I love it when Whumpee is leaning on things. They're dizzy, nauseous, in too much pain to stand, or just plain tired, and they can't get by without some kind of support.
Leaning on cabinets and against walls in people's houses. Propping their head up with their hands at the dining table. Steadying themself against a banister on the stairs. Holding on to the post of the traffic light for dear life while they wait to cross the road because if they stand still unsupported they will fall to the ground.
It's such a small display of I am not feeling good, but once another character notices it becomes so obvious. This person is weak and vulnerable. Either I can help them, or I can hurt them further. It's not like they're in any position to stop me.
i love the forced to watch trope in whump where being forced to watch is literally the only punishment one of the characters is receiving
like
both whumpees are captives. both are entirely at the mercy of their captors.
but only one of them is beaten, tortured, assaulted, degraded, ground into the dirt until they’re a shattered mess of themself
while the other one is only ever forced to stand by and watch it happen
and yet somehow, that still makes the watcher all the more likely to break entirely - to give in to whatever their captors want, if that would just make it stop
character b is laying on the stretcher, in pain, but struggling to try and get as close to character a as they possibly can. Despite the medics trying to gently get them to lay down, they turn onto their side, facing character a, who is gently rubbing their back, whispering that it’s okay, it’s okay, just stay…
for a previously prickly standoffish defensive whumpee plssss
thx sm for the ask!!
✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]
Character b is laying curled up on the bed, mumbling in their sleep, stuck between fever and nightmares. Character a is hovering nearby, and it’s killing them to see character b like this.
character b suddenly shudders, and character A’s head snaps up. “Character b…?” They call cautiously.
character b opens their eyes slightly, tears running down their face. They lift their hands and reach towards character b like a child wanting to be picked up.
“please…character a…hurts…” they whimper, the pain completely stripping away their usual defenses.
character a doesn’t think twice. They go to character b and hold their hand tightly. “Shh, it’s okay…” they say. “I’m here.”
character c nearby gives them a funny look, but is relieved to see character b’s vitals finally stabilizing as they go limp, peacefully asleep. Because now they have character a.
