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
Viennaâs 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.
The days and weeks marched on. The haze of summer began to loosen into a brisk autumn, wind whipping its way through colorful leaves. The uneasiness that seemed to haunt the campus for the first several weeks of the semester began to relax into something manageable, almost routine. It was, of course, very sad what had happened to Vienna DeNova (whatever that may be). She was a great student, always lit up the room. But life had to go on.
It wasn't as if she were forgotten. People kept their lavender ribbons pinned to their backpacks and coats, but the scheduled prayers, even casual mentions of Vienna, seemed to be decreasing by the week. Her volleyball team held tryouts and took on several new players, filling her spot so they had a full team for the new school year. And the campus that had once felt so somber, so united, started to fall back into its usual rhythm â girls shrieking with laughter in the quad, guys painting their faces and chests for football games, students walking together and bemoaning the amount of reading their professors had assigned.
And then there was Zander.
He felt like the lone survivor of a horrendous plane crash, or the last human left on earth after an alien invasion. The way that everyone could go forward with their lives, snap back into place as if the universe had not been permanently altered. Watching the way others moved through the world felt surreal, almost uncanny, as if everyone was attuned to some invisible rhythm that he no longer had access to.
But it wasn't as if Zander didn't fall into the same trap of normalcy as the others, was it? He slept, enough. He ate, for the most part. He went to class. He talked with people. All the things Vienna couldn't.
He'd thought about returning to campus â without Vienna â a lot. Had weighed the pros and cons, the possibilities and potential scenarios. Zander had expected it to be hard, feel heavy. What he wasn't quite prepared for was for it feel haunted.
The first time he'd thought it, his stomach had lurched. Because haunted was a word for things that were dead. And Vienna was not. Was not. Was not.
But⌠what other word would fit better? What other word could capture the feeling of being back here, of practically seeing ghosts around every corner?
There, on the quad, where he'd often catch her sitting and working, soaking in all the sun she could in between classes. He still half expected to hear her call out his name, bright and clear.
The English building, where she'd slid into the back of his Composition & Rhetoric class right before he gave a presentation he'd been dreading for weeks, and the sight of her sitting in the back row steadied his voice even while he felt his heart would burst.
Her freshman dorm, the one where she'd shared a room with Abigail, where he and Vienna had so many tiny private moments that had felt sparkling and warm and holy all at the same time. He can see the window to her old room each time he walks to the library, now covered with someone else's curtains.
The dining hall, their dining hall, the one smack dab between the humanities building and the student union. Vienna had refused to go into it for a week last year after she laughed so hard at something Zander had said she'd snorted juice through her nose.
The pier, where they'd shared moments that felt both breathtakingly small and private and surreally huge and epic. Sitting on the wooden slats looking for constellations, having all day parties with friends, swimming across to the tiny "island" in the middle and having to get Jay to come pick them up in a canoe.
It was as if he was being suffocated by memories â no, not memories, not exactly. Rather, it was the devastating contrast between then and now. Then, when life floated open in front of them, expansive and open and full of possibilities, like they were right at the start of something. AndâŚ.now. Now, in which the future felt both impossibly far away and far, far too close. Now, life was small and frightening and sinister. All with the same backdrop.
So, what was unexpected was finding a place where he could actually breathe. The craziest part to Zander was that Miller's office should have felt worse than anything. Everything in it was a reminder that this really existed, that it was happening, that she was still â still â gone. Her face smiling down from the walls, the murmur of her name in the hallways.
And yetâŚ.it was somewhere that Vienna had never been. Somewhere that, frankly, he couldn't imagine her in. Her presence was so solidly in the Then column of his life that the thought of her being in this place, despite its entire existence revolving around her, seemed ridiculous. No one there had any particular preconceptions of Zander in the FBI office, none of them had known him then when he appeared to be easily successful and put together and undemanding. None of them looked at him like he had two heads in the now when he did things like stalk around with a sour expression on his face or show up late to class or snap at others.
Being there felt like being connected to Vienna now, the version of her and of life in general that that he had to reconcile.
They had something. Zander had known it before it started showing up in the news cycle â the sudden flurry of activity, Miller collaborating with more and more faces, downing more and more coffee for what Zander assumed had to be long as fuck hours. So when it became public that law enforcement had several persons of interest they were looking into, Zander was excited but not shocked.
But just because Zander was there didn't mean he was privy to any special information. Agent Miller was, to Zander's great disappointment, committed to keeping those boundaries pretty firmly in place. Whenever something came up that anyone outside of law enforcement wasn't supposed to know, Miller could give Zander a look and a nod to the door and Zander would get up and leave â or, more and more often, Miller would take the phone call or meeting in another room so Zander could stay. It wasâŚ..nice. Zander had nearly knocked over his chair in his hurry to get out the first few times it had happened, but Miller didn't make him feel like a burden.
It was one of the things that made Zander's shoulders drop the moment he walked into Miller's office. The agent was just easy to be around. One minute they could be shooting the shit about this or that sports team, and the next, Zander could be choking on his words while talking about Vienna. And when that became too much, and Zander wandered back into lighthearted territory, Miller would follow him there. Didn't make it awkward. Didn't make it a thing. Just let himâŚ.be.
Even when Zander came into the office steaming mad, like he had the other day. He didn't even know why he was so mad. He'd been outside studying, trying to enjoy the fresh air before it got too cold, and a couple was sitting on one of the tables close to him. They were loud. Which was fine. Whatever. They were outside.
But when the girl had shrieked over a spider crawling on her chair, and her boyfriend had laughed and hopped up as if to save her, Zander felt like something inside him had snapped. He'd leapt up too, snatching his books off the table and stomping away like they'd done something to personally offend him.
And Miller had let him pace and rant and generally be a bit of a douchebag in his office until the anger cooled into gut-wrenching sadness. As was typical.
So when Zander walked in today, feeling like a walking corpse, he saw no reason to hide it. Miller was actually walking out as Zander was walking in, brushing by him quickly and saying, "Got a phone call, make yourself at home," and Zander obliged. He slumped down in his usual chair and stared at the wall.
It was a white cream color. Probably the same color as a million other offices in a million other cities. But Zander was beginning to feel as though he could pick it out of a lineup for all the time he spent here. His eyes darted, almost without his permission, to the photograph that Miller had pinned up on the wall next to his desk a few weeks ago. It was one Zander had given him, a picture of him and Vienna after his team qualified for states last year. Zander was in his blue jersey, mouth wide open in excitement, while Vienna embraced him from behind, beaming.
Zander looked away just as quickly, eyes burning. Goddammit. This whole fucking week had been worse than ever, in a way that he should have expected but somehow still bowled him over. He forced himself to look at a blank expanse of wall again, absentmindedly picking at his cuticles and somewhat enjoying the sting.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Miller finally came back into the room.
"Sorry about that. Apparently we have some missing paperwork somewhere and you know that's always gotta be crisis."
Zander watched a little listlessly as Miller walked straight to the file cabinet by his desk and fished out some form. He sat down, wrote something at the top portion, sighed, and finally looked over at Zander slouched across from him. A beat passed, and then Miller asked,
"You look like shit. When's the last time you ate something?"
"Gee, thanks," Zander grumbled. But when he looked up at the agent's expectant face, he could tell it wasn't a hypothetical question. "I don't know. MaybeâŚ.lunch. Day before yesterday."
Miller's eyebrows went up.
"So you haven't eaten anything in, whatâ" He glanced at the time on his computerâ "30 hours?"
Zander shrugged. "Guess so."
"Hm. Surprised you even had it in you to walk here. Noticed you didn't swing by yesterday, either."
"What, are you taking attendance now?" Zander griped. He could feel the agent's steady stare at him, and stubbornly refused to speak for a moment more before relenting. "âŚ.it was our anniversary, of when we officially started dating. October 2nd."
"Ah." Miller's desk chair creaked a bit as he sat back. "How long?"
"Two years." Zander swallowed. "But felt like longer."
"Everything does, at that age." A nostalgic grin pulled at Miller's lips, but then his voice lowered into something more serious. "Hey."
Zander understood the cue and raised his eyes to meet Miller's again. They were calm, patient.
"Anniversaries are always rough. Of any important date. Anyone in your position would feel the same way."
The words were simple but hit anyway. A little something loosened in Zander's chest and he nodded.
"You know, there's a place about a half mile from here that makes a damn good burger. You could head on down there, probably wouldn't see too many kids from campus."
"Going out alone around our anniversary sounds like its own version of hell, but thanks anyway."
Zander was being annoying and he knew it. Miller eyed him for a minute and then tossed down his pen.
"Fine. Then we'll go together. Get out of here for a while."
Zander gave him a look.
âI donât need a babysitter.â
"Good, because I donât babysit. I just donât like filling out incident reports.â
Miller was already standing and grabbing his coat. Zander looked at him in exasperation for a moment and then followed, shoving down the slavish thankfulness rising inside him.
It was a relaxed place. Dim light and wood paneling, sports games playing on TVs scattered around the walls. Definitely the type of place you'd order a beer in, but Miller asked the server for two Cokes as they sat down. He nodded at one of the TV's running a program on an up and coming NBA player and Zander was relieved to easily pass the time discussing the new season's prospects.
Zander got a burger, as Miller advised. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until it was set down in front of him and had to keep from inhaling it within two minutes. Miller, somewhat to his surprise, ordered sushi, several little bundles of rice and fish and seaweed that he ate with chopsticks.
Miller noticed Zander eyeing his plate. "Want to try any? It's not bad."
Zander looked at the roll as if expecting it to start squirming around the table. "Uh. It's raw fish, right?"
"Yeah, this one's salmon."
Zander had a vivid memory of learning about the "double bucket" symptoms of salmonella in biology in high school and politely declined.
"To each their own." Miller grinned as if he knew exactly what Zander was thinking. They both enjoyed their food for another moment before he continued, "You know, I've been talking with Sydney lately."
Zander blinked at him, not following.
"Agent Herring. She works with Vienna's parents a lot, and they want to keep putting stuff out there about Vienna. Let people feel connected to her, make sure the search stays active."
Zander's heart clenched. He knew that the DeNova's had rented a condo in the Lakewood area to keep as close to the investigation as possible. They had indeed been very active, putting out statements and stories and pictures even as months went by. "That's a good idea."
"I told her I'd ask you about pitching in, seeing as you're a writer."
Zander scoffed a little. "Whaâ I wouldn't say I'm a writer, I mean, I'm an English major, but that doesn't mean â"
But Miller was already shaking his head. "Zander, I've read your stuff. You're a writer."
No one had ever told Zander that before. Once we got past his instinct to protest, it made his chest swell a little. "WellâŚ.alright."
Miller nodded approvingly. "Anything that can pair with a picture or video would be good. Herring calls that stuff 'sticky,' makes people remember it better."
Possibilities were already whirring through Zander's mind. It was little things like this, moments where he could actually take action, that were helping him get by.
The sun was lowering in the sky by the time they each finished their food. Zander's leg jiggled under the table, making the whole thing shake a little. He had grown to hate this time of day. When he had to step out of the bubble of Miller's presence back into reality, long cold nights where every possible thing Vienna might be going through shoved its way to the center of his mind.
Miller picked up his soda from the slightly vibrating table and took a sip, regarding Zander.
"Wanna learn an old FBI magic trick?"
"Huh?" It broke him out of his reverie. "Uh, sure."
"This is old school stuff," Miller reached into his pockets to lay out a wallet, a small notepad, and a pen on the table. He also took off his watch and added it to the miniature collection. "But it matters more than people think. See what I've got here?"
"Yeah," Zander replied, looking over the items carefully.
"Wallet." Miller opened it up, flicked through some of the cards and bills inside.
"Pen." He picked it up and clicked it, setting it down as he picked up the next item.
"Notepad." He flipped through it, touching his watch with his other hand before setting it down.
"And watch." He picked it up as he rearranged the items in front of him, then set everything down and leaned back with his hands in his pockets.
"âŚ.okay?" Zander was still waiting for the trick.
"So what'd I take?"
"What?" Zander goggled at him, and Miller grinned.
"What'd I take? What's missing?"
Zander stared back at the objects. It all seemed to still be there. He carefully sifted through each thing until he noticed an empty slot."
"In here!" He held up the wallet. "You took out a card!"
"Not bad." Miller smiled approvingly and pulled a credit card out of his pocket.
"How did you â? I didn't even see you take it!"
"That's the magic of it." Miller slipped the credit card back into his wallet. "Want to learn how?"
"Yeah!"
And they spent a good twenty minutes practicing together, Miller teaching Zander how to perform sleight of hand and palm concealment and misdirection tricks. By the end, Zander was able to slip a quarter from his hand into Miller's wallet without him noticing.
"There it is!" Miller said, pulling the coin out with a proud glint in his eye. He was smiling wider than Zander had seen him do all afternoon. "You're a quick learner, kid."
"Yeah." Zander couldn't help but smile too. "I mean, you're a good teacher too, so."
It felt good to accomplish something, and by the time they were walking back to the FBI office in the dying light, Zander was breathing easier.
It was undeniably beautiful outside. Just chilly enough to feel refreshing, the setting sun casting golden rays through trees that were full of colorful, practically glowing leaves.
Did you know sugar maples are the best in fall? They're so bright!
Words came from Zander's mouth before he even realized he was speaking.
"This is her favorite time of year."
He braced for it â the pitying eyes, the awkward silence, the forced positivity, the "I'm so sorry." Any of a number of responses he'd grown to expect when mentioning Vienna, who to so many people now was no longer Vienna but Vienna DeNova, The Missing Girl.
But because Miller was Miller, he just smiled a bit and said, "Yeah?"
And something about the evenness of it, the nonchalance, made Zander like it was speakable and he continued on. Telling stories about fall memories, like the disastrous pumpkin carving incident of sophomore year, which made Miller throw his head back with a genuine laugh. Or how he and Vienna had spent hours in an apple orchard because he was so intent on finding the 'perfect' apple, only to burn the whole thing later. Or Halloween parties. Or football tailgating. Or Vienna being late to class because she kept stopping to take pictures of leaves.
"Wherever she is, I hope she can at least see the trees." His throat was tight.
Miller clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Me too."
For a moment Zander couldn't speak at all. He looked at the pink sky and blinked furiously. When he was able to talk again, he changed the subject to the book he was supposed to be reading for class, which Miller graciously allowed. By the time they reached the office, longing and sorrow and wistfulness sat on his chest in equal measure, but Zander felt somehow more able to bear it than usual.
"This was perfect timing, really," Miller said as they walked through the parking lot, waving a hand to some of the departing cars. "Pushed that paperwork squarely into tomorrow's problems."
"Glad I could be of service." Zander huffed a laugh. "ButâŚ.seriously, man. Thanks. I didâŚ..need that."
"Not a problem. You know I've got your back. This shit you're dealing with isâŚ.a lot," Miller told him.
Zander looked at the agent. His appraising yet patient brown eyes, the easy slope of his broad shoulders, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence of someone who had lived a hell of a lot of life despite barely being forty. At first, Zander had figured that Miller allowing him to spend so much time at the office was out of pity, or a sense of obligation. That the agent looked at him and saw some poor sap falling apart, a guy who needed the supervision of a real adult before he did something stupid.
ButâŚ.things were starting to feel different. Miller seemed pleased to see Zander when he showed up, would start conversations with him, ask him for his thoughts on things. Almost like a friendship. Well, not quite. Miller was much older, obviously an authority figure, it was more likeâŚ.no. No, that was silly. And besides, Zander already had a father.
But Zander could tell Miller got something out of this too.
"Have you ever lost somebody?"
Miller looked a little surprised by the question. He reached into his pockets for his keys, breaking eye contact.
"Everybody's lost somebody."
He pulled out the keys and Zander could hear the mechanical sound of the car unlocking.
"You take care of yourself, alright? No more days without eating. Hit me up if you need me."
Zander nodded obligingly. He stood and watched as Miller pulled out of the parking lot, and couldn't help but wonder what beneath the steady surface the man projected. He walked slowly back to campus, practicing his coin trick as he went. Miller's non-answer had told him everything he needed to know.
finally read unmade. dear god i get it now. vienna is such an interesting character... the descriptions are so visceral... the cognitive dissonance between her old life v. where she's @ now... augh. excellent writing. lowkey i usually dislike any named whump but this goes so hard. apologies if that sounds backhanded, but i want to emphasize that it's so good i'm forgetting that this is even supposed to be against my preferences if that makes sense
OH thank you so much!! what a nice ask to receive!! :') and nw i get what you mean!
"I thought you said you were going to be good, sweetheart?" Whumper cooed, as fresh tears welled in Whumpee's eyes. "Oh, I know it's hard to watch your friend get hurt, baby. But that's the whole point."
Stoic whumpee annoyed by a heart monitor. No matter how well they keep their expression neutral and their body from visibly tensing, suppressing every urge to flinch or fidget, whumper can still see their heart rate pick up at every touch.
hiii sorry i'm so bad @ coming up w specific prompts but i love hearing abt alec and vienna đđ is there anything specific abt them rattling around in your head that you maybe just haven't had an excuse to post maybe?
omg ty!! đĽš
hmm I'm always thinking about how each of their respective mindsets are shifting depending on the point in captivity.
Because as captivity goes on longer and longer, both of their worlds are getting smaller and more focused on the basement. For Vienna, the isolation is so complete and the outside world is feeling so far away that her entire world now revolves around Alec. When he comes to see her, the things he does, the things he says, what she needs to do to minimize harm, etc. All the things that used to matter the most to her (loved ones, school, hobbies, etc) are memories that she focuses on when she has the luxury to
And for Alec, a similar shrinking is happening, but he views it much differently. Real life is growing less and less appealing when he has a whole little kingdom in his basement where he can do whatever he wants and everything revolves around his power/pleasure.
So they're both becoming more disconnected from reality in their own special ways :-)
"you're going to break soon, whumpee, i can tell." whumper swipes a strand of hair out of their face, "it's okay. you can do it. it'll be easier if you do."
Nothing like caretaker who learns that whumpee is back and that theyâre hurt and runs through the halls, across the yard, down the stairs, while everyone around is watching. They storm into the room, and oh that little pause before they walk up to the bed more slowly and shyly.
Whumpee was not expecting caretaker to be this worried about them and they raise their head in surprise, while somebody else is already tending to their injuries.
whumper who brags about what whumpee was going to do in life in front of guests (whumperâs friends who are just as fucked up as him) to remind whumpee of everything he took from her
âshe was going to medical school, just finishing up her undergrad, how many days did you have left?â
ââŚ17â whumpee would reply, clenching her jaw, looking away, unable to hide her disdain for him
âmhm⌠and she used to do plays at her university, what a pretty little actor she was, real good too and nowâŚâ he would get up and grab whumpeeâs face roughly ânow she canât even play pretend to save her life from meâ
Love it when characters are taunted and tortured and beaten to within an inch of their life extensively. But then they need to be picked up and cared for by someone so softly. pleeaseee
