A normally stoic and stubborn character (A) painfully pushes the words out past their dry lips. The words themselves are wounded, barely unable to reach the other’s (B’s) ear. But they’re heard and the admission of weakness tightens B’s chest more than the sight of A writhing in a pool of their own blood. Their history doesn’t matter, really, when one is the picture of health and the other is closer to hell.
Help me - the phrase is so simple but it carries so much weight. Help you? For what in return? At what cost of my own? What if I can’t.. B’s eyes are widened as thoughts fill their mind. Yet they cannot waste time.
'Fuck it’
It’s a decisive thought, one to end all thoughts.
B bends down to staunch the wound and ties it up haphazardly. And when A starts to fade, they call their name. It’s almost casual at first but it grows in panic. And while they carry A to safety, they’re exhausted and panting but still, they call their name.
Why? Because they care. And seeing A hurt to the point they asked for help, wrenches them.
[The vulnerability trope is not just about a strong character succumbing to injury but also about the character who puts aside their coldness and finally admits that they’d seriously grieve if they lost the other]
Hoist the sails! It’s the Seasickness Trope, me hearties
The walkway on the water giving way as whumpee steps off of land, causing their knees to buckle slightly before they quickly correct themselves
Always being near the edge of the ship and keeping a firm grip on the railing
When whumpee has never been on water before but they lie when asked
Their pale face speckled with cold sweat
Dry, cracked lips
Gulping constantly, even hiccupping a bit when they speak to another character and pounding on their chest to try to get rid of that sickfeeling
The constant sway and creak of the boards beneath them, they cannot stand still without feeling lightheaded and dizzy
Walking or stumbling at a diagonal while the world spins around them
A headache forming, a bad one, with high pitched ringing
The contents of their stomach rising with a sudden heave
Sneaking away from the rest of the crew to rush to the toilet
Reaching for the edge of the seat and vomiting into it
It’s a lot and they cough miserably at the end before they let themselves fall back and lean against the wall gasping
But the ground beneath them won’t stop moving, their head is pounding heavier with every throb
Yet they drag themselves up, afraid of what the captain will say if they are missing from their post but when they stand, the vomit rises again and they collapse back down to throw up
^THIS CYCLE OF COLLAPSING AND TRYING TO GET BACK UP
The captain finding whumpee as a pale, sweaty mess on the floor and instead of being unkind they place whumpee’s arm around their shoulders and help them up
[Pirate ship with a found family vibe] The rest of the crew helping to make a brew that will cure whumpee’s seasickness and being so relieved to watch the colour return to their previously pale, sickly face
The only thing better than hurting a character so badly they faint, is waiting till they recover and enter confrontation (albeit bandaged, braced with a residual limp or stagger) before WHUMPING THEM AGAIN. IN THE SAME SPOT! LEAVING THEM MORE INJURED THEN THEY WERE BEFORE
And it’s not an argument without evidence:
The flash of white bandages around a character’s abdomen that peek out from inside torn clothing and the scarlet blood that blooms through their bandages as a sharp object is brutally stabbed into them. Their weapon clatters onto the ground before they collapse beside it, writhing and screaming in agony.
A character on crutches being pushed down stairs. The nauseating feeling of their injured leg crumpling under them as they fall, unable to do anything. The loud crash at the bottom, followed by heavy silence filled with the feeling of being so broken.
After spending days in bed, restless with intense fever, a character’s fever finally breaks. They start to eat again and move around, slowly regaining their strength. But it’s not fast enough; too soon, the character is forced to traverse an extremely harsh environment on little rest. Eventually, they’re overcome by intense hot and cold flashes and blurring vision as they collapse to the ground, convulsing.
What I’m actually thinking about 90% of the time is
The magic trope where character A uses some of their life source to heal character B’s otherwise fatal injury but as a result, B can now sense A’s energy level. When A is tired, the magic fades in proportion - the wound would throb if it was a small tired but grows more intense the more the magic dissipates.
Anyway the particular scene I love goes like:
A and B are separated in battle with A facing the big bad while B handles things on the ground, fighting off minions and evacuating civilians. B is running through the battlefield and they double over in pain as if someone is stabbing them over and over. They’re bleeding heavily, but there’s no one around them. B’s heart drops - the magic, the tether.. is just gone. Screaming A’s name, they stand, gripping their wound and leaning on their sword, and stagger towards the centre of conflict to find them.
Character A: a healer that treats by absorbing pain, no one knows about their power they just think they’re an amazing healer, chatty, hilarious, never seen outside the healer’s tent
Meets
Character B: stoic soldier who can’t feel pain, has a menacing aura, not one for words but can’t help but smirk at A’s jokes, lots of emotional baggage
Scenes goes something like:
B is brought into the healer’s tent after sustaining a serious abdominal injury during battle. They’re losing consciousness and blood pours out of their wound. B is placed on the bed and A presses down on the wound with a cloth. They try to work their magic but there’s nothing. A removes the cloth, pressing into the wound with their bare hands, blood immediately coating their arms. Nothing. Shit, they have to do this the hard way.
~
When B wakes, they see A checking their fluids beside them. A looks pale and their breathing is shaky. Another patient screams on a bed somewhere. A inhales sharply, pressing a hand to their face and closing their eyes. When they open them, they see B’s eyes watching.
Little things in the hidden injury trope that give me life more than water does
Tying something between their teeth to stop their cries from being heard while they treat themselves in the dark
Bloodied bandages stuffed into the gap between the wall and the bed
Whumpee wearing long sleeves/pants but their bandages still finding a way to peek out
Blood running down their limb from inside their clothes and dripping onto the ground
Bloody footprints
Bloody handprints
Faint bloodstains on the floor that whumpee can’t get off no matter how hard they scrub
Whumpee limping as soon as the other person turns their back
Dark undereyes from obv no sleep
Those sexy beads of sweat and pale skin
Leaning against wall/ furniture whenever they get the chance
When a normally talkative character is quiet
Controlling their breath while they try to complete normal tasks but then doubling over and gasping for air behind closed doors
When they peel back the bandages to check their injury and it’s gotten worse
Whumpee trying to bring it up with someone but then deciding against it when the other person starts talking about future plans
Someone in the team feeling like there’s something wrong with whumpee but not knowing what so they don’t bring it up and then the GUILTthey feel afterwards holy
Whumpee FINALLY fainting - behind closed doors and being found by someone later or just dropping to the ground while they’re with someone else
I mean just imagine character A talking and thinking whumpee is beside them and whumpee just drops out of frame with a sigh and a thud
Whumpee trying to tell the others that they’re fine and that they can handle it while they’re literally bleeding out on the ground
Bonus! The scene afterwards when whumpee wakes up and their wounds are bound in those crisp white bandages instead of the bloodied, dirtied torn pieces of clothing they’d used before
NOTE: I’D LOVE TO BE TAGGED IF YOU WRITE OR CREATE ANYTHING INSPIRED BY THIS LIST
That hiss when the caretaker first touches the whumpee’s wound and the eye contact immediately after - whumpee’s tears welling up in pain and caretaker’s concerned gaze.
A team had been sent out to scope out a possible location for C’s den and as it turns out, it was. A had been missing for three months and they’d finally found her. B won’t believe it till he sees her for himself.
Where is she
The van with the team and A finally pulls up. Agents swarm them, trying to get a glimpse of the agency’s finest spy who was violently taken from them.
Where is she
Where is she
B pushes his way through the crowd and sees her.
A’s hair hides her face as she hunches forward. She’s wearing an oversized jacket probably placed on her by a team member. Many hands support her waist and her shoulders as she limps heavily. As he finally pushes himself before her, B sees one of the sleeves of the jacket hangs limp - it’s empty.
'A,’ B says to his girlfriend.
A looks up, her amber eyes undo him. Seeing B, A gasps softly and she pushes out of the others’ hands to limp towards him. He sees her right arm in a makeshift sling inside her jacket. It looks utterly broken and bloody, bright blood has already seeped through the sling.
She makes it one step before she falls forward into his arms. A cries out at the impact but she smiles up at B.
'B,’ A says softly. 'I never thought I’d see you again’
B helps her to stand but her legs give out from underneath her. A stretcher arrives and B helps to lift her onto it before walking alongside it to the infirmary.
B isn’t allowed in when they treat her but he sits outside the door listening, waiting. Right beside the door, he can hear A’s every scream and groan as they treat her. His insides twist and wrench at every sound and he feels so uneasy listening to her in pain. Tears prick his eyes and then they fall in rivulets. He sits for hours, head in his hands until the doctors finally emerge and allow him to see her.
A lies slightly propped up on the bed. Her right arm is fully casted and rests propped up beside her. Her right leg also rests in a cast, it peeks out from beneath her blanket. Every part of skin B can see is bruised. His stomach drops at the sight of her so broken.
'B,’ A smiles, her voice hoarse. 'You’re still here’
'I-’ B chokes up. 'You are everything to me’
A chuckles. 'Sappy isn’t your style, B’
B smiles slightly, how could she be cheering him up at a time like this?
'A’
'Yep,’ A looks up at him curiously. Her eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be. B looks at her solemnly.
'I know he hurt you badly. I know that. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay because I want you to feel safe with me.’
A’s features soften, her brows furrow.
B continues, 'I love you. I love you so much I wish I had told you more. I want to be there for you when you want me to.’
A’s eyes are glassy and she nods. 'I just.. want to laugh again’
B’s eyes also shine as he nods back. 'You will. I promise’
Whump prompt - vampire enemy but it’s forced proximity
Character A and their enemy - a vampire, join forces against a common enemy. They’re hiding from soldiers who are gradually converging on them. Vampire is weak and shuddering due to injuries and starvation. Vampire’s eyes grow feral and they become increasingly twitchy at the smell of A’s blood. A snaps at Vampire to ‘get it together’ but they are obviously not listening. So before Vampire’s erratic sounds reveal them to the soldiers, A offers up their wrist. Vampire looks at A, their face flashes apology, wanting to say no, before they’re overcome with hunger and lunge for A’s neck. Vampire’s jaw clamps on and blood sprays as they aggressively bite down. A tries to struggle against it but they slow and their expression turns euphoric. Vampire holds A in their arms, holding them closer to their mouth. A closes their eyes. The soldiers find the pair and hold weapons up to them. Vampire unclamps from A’s neck and suddenly comes to their senses. Now stronger, Vampire easily takes down the soldiers. But when Vampire looks back, A is still unconscious.
The spy and the healer (Enemies to lovers First meeting fic): ‘Your bloody knuckles betray you’
A strides quickly up the dark corridor, constantly checking behind her for the security chasing her. Her lungs burn but she manages to keep her breathing silent. It’s her first mission and she’s so lost despite having spent hours poring over the blueprint of the enemy’s headquarters.
The grey walls feel as if they’re closing in on her until she sees a door of frosted glass near. It’s dark on the other side so she opens it quietly and slips inside. A fumbles for her flashlight, allowing herself to pant freely in her temporary refuge. She can’t discern any wind that may come from a window. The room feels small, an office perhaps. She finally grabs a hold of her flashlight but before she can shine it, the room’s lights up in brilliant white.
A’s heart near leaps out of her chest, she almost curses aloud. Looking around, she sees a desk before her. It’s covered in paperwork and books. Behind it, a chair with a white coat laid carelessly atop. Against the far wall is a patient bed and various medical equipment lays beside it. There’s another door on the other side of the room, across from the bed. That’s where the figure steps out from.
'I don’t usually get visitors at this hour,’ B says, closing the door.
He walks up to A, running his hair through his messy black curls. He looks at her, and stops.
A averts her eyes and her hands move behind her meekly.
'Recruit!’ B says jovially, regarding her ill-fitting disguise.
'I’ve never seen you before. Guess you’ve never had the pleasure of being injured enough to see me’
A looks up and their eyes meet.
He looks young for a healer, he’s probably naive too. Under the white lights, his soft brown eyes sparkle.
'Recruit, take a seat’ B pats the patient bed.
Hesitant to leave the door, A steps slowly past the desk and toward B. She feels his eyes on her, assessing, undressing.
Sit sit, he gestures. And she does.
He pulls his chair close to her. Tutting softly, he brings a soft cotton pad to the angry red cut along her right jaw. It stings but as he does so, she looks around the room further. As she suspected, there are no windows in this room but she’s not sure about the room that the healer exited from earlier. Her best bet is probably to leave the way she entered. Right now, she’s sitting duck in this healer’s office.
'Luckily, your cut isn’t that deep that I need to stitch it’, B says softly, sticking the adhesive bandage to her face.
'Now, let me see these,’ B reaches for her hands. A’s knuckles are split and bleeding. She bites the tip of her tongue to stop her hiss as he takes one hand in his and spreads an antiseptic gel over them. Although he’s wearing gloves, his hand is warm and soft. A watches him as he focusses on cleaning her knuckles. The healer’s dressed in a sweater, he doesn’t wear his coat. He looks around her age. She feels a small guilt for deceiving him.
B finishes applying the solution to her hands and reaches over to his desk to retrieve a book. She holds her hands out as he fans the book over them. The cool air instantly relieving the heat and pain.
B smirks. 'Recruit, you’re a model patient. Even the toughest pros tear up when I give them the antiseptic for their cuts. But not you, recruit.’
He takes a small roll of white bandage out of a drawer and begins to wrap her knuckles.
'Tell me recruit, what’s your name?’
'A’
'Nice to make your acquaintance A. I’m B’
'Doctor B?’
'No no, just B’
'A, how did you injure yourself?’
The question is posed casually but A grows wary.
'Training. I, er, went too far’
B hums acknowledgment. He finishes up wrapping her second hand and leans back over to his desk. His fingers find a button beneath and press it.
Looking at A, he says
'You sure you didn’t get them from our guards, Agent A?’
He smiles crookedly.
'Your bloody knuckles betray you. All our recruits are forced to wear hand wraps during training’
The distant sound of boots approaching grows louder and louder. A stands up abruptly in an attempt to make a mad rush for the door but there’s a sharp, cold prick under her chin as B holds up a pair of scissors.
'Uhuh, not so fast little recruit. I’ll cut you a deal, since you were such a good patient. If you go now, you’ll have like five seconds on 'em.’
'In exchange for what?’ A asks through gritted teeth.
'This.’ B undoes the zipper of her jumpsuit and tugs off the locket at her neck.
A’s eyes go wide and she lunges for it but B jumps out of reach. She’s torn between retrieving her locket or running for her life. A bolts for the door but as she leaves she hears B call:
'See you around recruit’
When she’s gone, he looks at the locket in his palm.
Spy fic imagine - ‘You couldn’t be more wrong.. I worship you’
Agent A sags against her chains in her cell. Her hands and feet are bound with cuffs with spikes protruding inwards. Blood is smeared on her arms and ankles, it also drips off her chin from her broken nose.
The basement is dark and dead silent, save for her pained, shaking breaths. Then she hears steps and the cell door rattles.
'A! Are you okay?’ A voice whispers.
A is losing consciousness but at the sound of B’s voice, it’s low rasp, she jerks awake.
'B?’ Her voice cracks hoarsely from the two days without water or food.
She searches for his brown eyes but they’re focused on padlock. Deftly, B picks the lock and enters her cell silently. He doesn’t look at her and instead eyes the locks around her wrists and ankles. Bending down, his hair brushes against her knee as he picks the lock around her ankles. When it springs free he grasps her calves one at a time, just above the wounds where the cuffs have cut her, and guides them out of the chains. His hand is warm against her freezing skin. Her knees are on the verge of buckling.
'Can you stand?’ he asks in a low whisper.
'Yes’ she manages to croak out.
He stands, moving to pick the locks for her wrist cuffs. B looks up at the lock that holds A’s hands above her head. She stares at his chest, his broad shoulders, his neck, his adam’s apple..
'Done’ he says, lock springing free.
A sighs deeply as she lowers her aching arms and bloody wrists. She can’t see how badly they’re torn up but they sting like hell.
'Come on’ B says, walking over to the cell door.
He exits and holds it open for her to step out. She follows B’s lead as he walks quickly out of the basement. Darkness bites the edges of her vision as she moves, limbs burning.
B turns a corner, telling her to wait behind. He’s spotted two men and goes to distract them. She watches and waits for his signal but is suddenly pulled backward. Another man holds her against him, her throat in his elbow.
Instinctually, A manoeuvres out of it. For a brief moment, she feels powerful, kicking the man down. But very quickly the adrenaline fades..
Pain shoots up her limbs and dizziness overwhelms her. B runs back in time to see A kick the man away and immediately collapse onto the ground, eyes closing.
'No, A!’ he shouts.
More gang members rush to them. B runs toward her and loops his arm around her back.
'A, wake up! Come on!’
A stirs enough to move her legs weakly. B runs, half carrying, half pushing A till they are out of the den and in the clear, narrowly missing the gang members at their heels.
Out in the open, the mid afternoon sun hits them straight in the eyes. B radios urgent pickup from the crew on standby. A’s knees buckle from the pain and she collapses.
'Woah!’ B bends with her and moves his other arm behind her knees. He sits on the ground, cradling her weak form in his lap. A looks up and his brown eyes, now brilliant in the sun, meet hers.
'Why are you here?’ she asks
'You’re one of the best. There’s no way..’
'No, why are you here?’ A’s eyelids are daring to close, her limbs feel heavy.
B stills at the question and looks up. In his lap, A’s breathing slows and he realises he needs to keep talking to keep her awake.
'Because I had to find you’
A huffs. Her eyes slightly open as she mumbles,
'You don’t care where I am. Eight years we’ve been.. been in this job and you.. you never cared.. what I was up to’
'You couldn’t be more wrong.. A, I worship you’
His own confession has his heart hammering in his chest. B hears the distant sound of a helicopter and looks down at A’s face, unconscious on his elbow.
He bends over to kiss her forehead, almost sorry that he chose the worst time to confess. Then he lifts her, cradling her close and walks toward the landing helicopter.
Why do you always insist you’ve got it covered when you so clearly don’t?
Get your head out of your ass. You’re not strong enough to save us all on your own
And where did that get you?
I was going to have you punished for disobeying me but looks like they got to you first
You were stupid enough to get hurt in the first place so you’re damn well not allowed to pass out now
Quit your whining or I’ll shove the blade in further
(yelling) Afraid I’d yell at you? Your punk-ass would rather die than get yelled at?
Hey actually I do want your opinion on one thing- does it hurt more getting the blade shoved in (pulls blade out much to the painful surprise of whumpee) or out?
(Upon seeing whumpee’s bandages drenched in blood) *Sighs. This wound is almost as stubborn as you are.
Hi do you have a second to think about a whumpee on the ground in seriously heavy rain? And (wait!) they’re bleeding heavily from a wound in their stomach but it’s raining so hard, their blood runs rivers away from them. The whumpee drags themselves painfully forward with one arm - the other holds their wound. Their legs drag behind them, one broken and the other is too weak to hold weight at all. Raindrops piercing into them like icicles, the whumpee groans with every effort but each end up in a fit of coughs from the cold. The ground, though roughly paved, turns muddy. Whumpee grimaces at the pain but also at the sound of their useless body dragging heavily across the coarse ground, rain pelting onto them like bullets. They slow, unable to pull themselves much further and black out completely. The rain eventually stops and whumpee stays unmoving, barely breathing and cold as ice in a wide, slick puddle of their own blood.
Hero is on the run from a traumatic event and is looking for Villain, their last hope. Hero experiences more trauma and accumulates serious injuries along their journey yet they don’t lose hope. The characters’ history makes Hero nervous, given that they parted on less than amicable terms but they’ve come too far to be ashamed - Villain was right all along.
Hero nervously approaches Villain’s camp in the woods, emerging from the dark like a wounded animal. They’re starved, dehydrated, unwashed and bloody. Villain recognises Hero immediately and rushes to them.
‘Hero, what are you doing-’
Hero’s gaze meet’s Villain’s and their eyes immediately well up in tears. Their throat chokes up with sob and they begin to cry heavily.
Villain stares at them for a second before wrapping their arms around Hero, stroking the back of their head.
Nearby campmates reach for their weapons and slink away into the shadows where they’ll have a clear shot of hero nonetheless.
Hero’s sobs weaken to whimpers and their eyes roll back. Hero collapses suddenly but Villain lifts them and runs toward their tent. Villain yells to the others to bring water, medicines and other resources. The other campmates look wary but obey, hurriedly grabbing what they can and following Villain into the tent to collectively heal Hero.
A character’s POV where a teammate offers a hand to help them up and they take it, grimacing and grumbling but relieved that everything is over. Yet when they are upright, the world tilts dramatically onto a sharp downward plane. They don’t feel themselves falling, but the teammate’s shocked face is moving further away. The sudden impact of the ground jolts their bones in their weakened body. Dizziness consumes them, the world spinning on a different plane to them. And pain creeps in - biting their brain, pinching their nerves, seizing their body to move awkwardly and pull at torn muscles.
There are snatches of voices - their name, reassurances, and they wish they could speak and tell them not to worry. But they are no longer in control. There is only dizziness and pain and soon, nothing.
Little white scars. Ones that accumulate on the hands and forearms from a lifetime of sparring.
Giant, jagged scars. They’re breathtaking if they cross the face or go through an eye, leaving permanent damage to sight or the movement of facial muscles. Or even on the leg, giving them a limp. Strong characters who are proud of their scars. But I melt at the mention of these scars being hidden by a character who is ashamed of them. A large scar that constantly hurts them and people they’ve known for years who have no clue of trauma that they carry.
Angry red scars. Well, glorified cuts that won’t heal. I’d give this to a character who’s always getting a blade shoved beneath their jaw and refuses to get it looked at because ‘the other bastard was just trying to send a message’. Also to characters who are still inexperienced at combat and always get run across with the end of a blade. Blood wells up beneath the surface but the cut isn’t deep enough to break skin.
Surgical scars. Typically quite neat and discrete so are a good segue to a backstory of traumatic injury. Most noticeable (and badass) on the scalp as the white, hairless scar stands out from darker hair. These are so good for giving backstory for frequent serious headaches or migraines and even for slightly odd whumpy behaviour such as fainting, feeling dizzy, nausea, memory loss, drowsiness, spacing out, mood swings, changes to personality
Branding scars. Very few things are more traumatising to me in whump fics than branding and branding scars. The dehumanisation, the shame and the excruciating pain of the burning metal itself. And the symbol being a constant reminder of it all? It’s serotonin in the most sadistic way. But I’m all about putting a character through the worst of times then splurging on the comfort chapter before repeating it over again.
Emotional scars. I know everyone has these, okay, I know. But a whumpee who needs a LOT of convincing that they are safe with caretaker to even talk about the smallest details about themselves is peak character design. I don’t make the rules.
Whumpee is kidnapped and tortured for caretaker’s identity. Every time they’re asked ‘What is their name?’, Whumpee always answers the same.
'They never told me. They never told me’
But the punches and the stabs keep on coming. Till Whumpee is on the ground, terribly wounded and barely conscious. They still painfully mutter the same thing.
Till Caretaker shows up after realising that Whumpee is missing. They beat up the kidnappers and untie Whumpee. Caretaker supports Whumpee’s weight, trying to keep them upright. But Whumpee whispers their name, Caretaker’s realname, before collapsing into their arms.
Caretaker had never told them their name yet somehow Whumpee had figured it out themselves. They told half-truths to their kidnappers to protectcaretaker and almost died in the process.
