secretbloodloss - Tumblr blog

[secretbloodloss]

Women in Whump

Hello! If you like whump stories featuring women characters (in any role/character), feel free to browse the list of works below. It's a spreadsheet with links to author and stories with prominent women character in their whump!

Here's the link to the spreadsheet!

It's editable, so you if you know a great example of some 'women in whump stories,' or you wrote on yourself, please feel free to add it! ✨

It doesn't have to be just lady whumpees, FYI. Whumpers, caretakers, what have you. All are welcome. :)

[secretbloodloss]

scrolling thru the whump tag is like

male whump (every character in the story/snippet/etc is male)

male whump

prompt with placeholder names that uses masculine pronouns

male whump

male whumpee and whumper with female caretaker

male whump

gender neutral prompt

male whump

gender neutral prompt

male whumpee by himself

art of male whump

male whumpe

this isn't directed at anyone specifically but how about some FEMALE CHARACTERS perhaps. how about some WOMEN? and not just delegated to the role of "caretaker/the Responsible One"?? so often it feels like especially in fandom all the characters are not just male, but also gay, so the author doesn't have to subject themselves to the untold horror of Writing A Woman

[secretbloodloss]

scrolling thru the whump tag is like

male whump (every character in the story/snippet/etc is male)

male whump

prompt with placeholder names that uses masculine pronouns

male whump

male whumpee and whumper with female caretaker

male whump

gender neutral prompt

male whump

gender neutral prompt

male whumpee by himself

art of male whump

male whumpe

this isn't directed at anyone specifically but how about some FEMALE CHARACTERS perhaps. how about some WOMEN? and not just delegated to the role of "caretaker/the Responsible One"?? so often it feels like especially in fandom all the characters are not just male, but also gay, so the author doesn't have to subject themselves to the untold horror of Writing A Woman

[secretbloodloss]

Whumperless Whump Event--Day 27

concussion/temporary amnesia/"I don't remember what happened to me"

OC: Esther Dahan Story: Emerald Outpost

The street is familiar. She thinks. Maybe there’s a garden near here? Or was it the hospital?  Her heart speeds up. No. No hospital thoughts, that will only make it worse.  She can’t remember what “it” is or how she knows what will make it worse, but she has learned to trust her own nameless instincts the way you trust a partner to watch your back. She pulls her thoughts in a different direction.

Where is she? Why is she here? The pink and green and yellow buildings curve dizzyingly in all directions. There’s a...what’s the word? A...a...a place where trains come. But her head feels stuffed full of fluff and every time she turns her head she veers into a wall, so going near the railing seems like a bad idea, even to look for a sign. A sign probably wouldn’t mean much to her right now anyway.

Case in point: the name of that restaurant is Coral Place, as announced by a very large sign. But that doesn’t tell her where she is.

Or, more importantly, why she came here. Alone. It’s afternoon and hot. When no one goes out—how does she know that?—and she’s alone on the street except for the woman waiting for the train with a couple of children. 

She could ask. The words Where am I? form through the fluff in her brain. Where does this train go? She doesn’t remember where she lives, but she’s pretty sure she’d recognize the neighborhood name. 

Movement on her other side catches her eye, and she turns to see—herself. Probably. Presumably. She raises a hand to her hair and the woman in the window—yes, it’s only her reflection—mirrors her. Her black hair is cut unevenly around her shoulders, and tangles slide under her fingers like beads. Even in the muted color of the one-way window, she can see the thick dark circles under her eyes like bruises, several shades darker than her brown skin. She’s wearing a dirty red tank top she doesn’t think is something she’d buy, with lace trim around the neck that’s been half torn away so it trails down her chest. Twisted, lump scars protrude from her neckline and down her arms. Some of them have shiny metal embedded in them. Their existence doesn’t surprise her. 

She can’t ask for help. She doesn't look like someone to let around your kid. She thinks she remembers holding a little hand, pulling her baby away from someone who swayed and leered in the wrong way.

But also, alone and in leather herself, walking the lowest levels where the sun barely filters. Pulling back the edge of her jacket so they all see her blaster. Laughing. Hand through her short hair. Leaning on the bar and meeting his eyes. She doesn’t know him, but he’s big and angry and drunk and she finds this funny. 

She tries to cling to the memory, but it’s already fading. A train pulls up and the lady boards and is gone. 

When did she sit down? The metal is almost painfully warm through her jeans, even in the shade, but getting up seems...confusing now. 

“Do you need help?” 

She blinks in case she’s imagining him. His legs are right in front of her, but she doesn’t remember him walking up. 

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” 

She didn’t prepare an answer for this, and the words slide away. Is she alright? She shakes her head. 

“Ok,” he bends down. He’s maybe her age, she thinks. Maybe a little older. His heard is 60% silver. “What’s your name?” 

For a terrifying moment, she doesn’t know. But this, at least, slides off her tongue before her brain realizes she does actually remember. “Esther.” Is that how her voice is supposed to sound? 

“Alright, Esther. What do you need? I can call a doctor...” 

That choking, heart-pounding panic fills her again, making the fluff thicker. “No!” Seriously, why does she sound like she’s strangling? “I need...home...!” 

“Alright,” he says again. Did he shift away from her? “Where do you live?” 

This again. “I...I don’t...” She goes to throw up her hands in frustration, then slams them on her knees when the man flinches. But the way the sun glints off her bracelet catches her eye. She doesn’t think she likes bracelets. She doesn’t think people who do wear ones with such big, plain tags hanging off them either... 

Oh. 

There’s an address. A personal message code. And a name. 

She was wrong. She doesn’t recognize the name of her neighborhood. But there’s another name up in the corner, listed as the contact: Phuong. 

Finally, her mind fills with a rush of images. Jumbled, but happy. A wedding chuppah made of green lace. A curving pink apartment wall, from the inside, and the most beautiful woman in the world pressing her against it. Shira—her baby’s name is Shira!—jumping off the back of a couch onto a precarious pile of cushions. A window lined with flowerpots, and Phuong making a face because...because she forgot to water them and one is dead. But the dead plant still has a looping grace to it, silhouetted against the sunset outside. 

She doesn’t know much. But she knows that Phuong means safety and love and home, and is probably worried about her (again, and she doesn’t even bother wondering how she knows this isn’t the first time). 

Wordlessly, Esther holds her wrist out for the stranger to examine. He will message Phuong, who will come get her, and life will make sense again. Right?

@whumperless-whump-event

[secretbloodloss]

Thanks, good to know it’s not just me! And that’s an excellent point for having new words after

Does anyone else’s enjoyment of whump go way down when you’re actually sick? Like I love to daydream about characters sick or injured or dying but now I have a cough so it just peaks my anxiety about getting more sick

[secretbloodloss]

Does anyone else’s enjoyment of whump go way down when you’re actually sick? Like I love to daydream about characters sick or injured or dying but now I have a cough so it just peaks my anxiety about getting more sick

[secretbloodloss]

i know this is themed after the taylor swift but there is something so deeply funny about getting a cutesy wootsy beaded bracelet at claires that says "tortured". who else is being tortured in this claires⁉️ if you're being tortured in claires make some noise ‼️💯

[secretbloodloss]

Whumperless Whump Event—Day 4 

Chronic pain/massage/“I’m used it it” 

OC: Aryel’eso tsu’Mais  Story: Blood and Ice 

Etlin settled into the fine couch, trying to enjoy the sun on their good side and keep it away from the burns covering their other arm. It had been several years since they’d been at the castle and though little had changed, they were always surprised by the sheer scale of it all. Outside the window, the courtyard below contained an entire orchard, bushes of flowers filling in the space between the trees. The kitchens and armory and barn across the courtyard were each as large as Etlin’s entire house. And beyond the towering yellow stone wall, from this height they could see past Rubi to the forested mountainside stretching into the distance. They had left voluntarily, sure, but sometimes they missed the grandeur. The silk-covered couch cushions against their skin. The hovering spheres of light keeping every room free from shadows. The near-nightly feasts of fish and bread and fruit and sweets. But Etlin had not missed the whispers that spiraled through the halls, or the glances an old soldier like them earned from the perfectly coiffed nobility, and were glad when Aryel finally arrived, closing the sitting room door behind them. They were dressed simply, for a ruler. Even, Etlin noticed, more simply than they had a few years ago. Their skirt was only two-layered, their blouse half-covered with a buttoned vest instead of the more fashionably laced stays. Their typical multi-layered headscarf—which they had been fond of trimming in raindrop emeralds—was missing, replaced with their old soldier’s cap, made simply to cover the hair with no frills. Aryel’s smile at Etlin was warm and genuine, but it was quickly subsumed by a wince as they moved towards the couch. They walked gingerly, and their limp was more pronounced than it had been 5 years before. Etlin struggled to know where to point their eyes during the long wait for their friend to cross the room. Finally, Aryel settled down with a soft groan and swayed slightly again Etlin’s shoulder. They reached automatically to steady their friend, and had to shake away old images of Aryel, bloody and fainting, shot in the woods. That was passed now. The war was over. And yet... “We can talk later, if you’re unwell.” Etlin kept their hand on Aryel’s arm, and they didn’t pull away. Actually, they seemed to genuinely need the support. “It’s nothing. I’m used to it. Today is actually fairly good.” Etlin frowned. “Are you working too hard?”  Aryel chuckled, low and warm. “What, are you my parent now?”  Etlin was tempted to make a joke, something about have half-raised Aryel into who they were now anyway. But 30 years of friendship had given them a sense for what would be welcome when, and Aryel’s eyes had narrowed ever so slightly. Etlin backed off.  “I’m only concerned. You look a lot less well than the last time I saw you.”  “We’re both getting old, Etlin. It’s fine. Now, what exactly was important enough to show up unannounced after five years of silence?” Aryel stretched out their bad leg to one side with a half-audible grumble.  But Etlin wasn’t convinced yet. “Yes, we’re getting old. Which is why I retired. Years ago. And now I do things like garden and fish.”  “That’s not how I remember your retirement. Didn’t I have to threaten you with more responsibility until you decided some peace wouldn’t be that bad?”  “And you were right. For me and, perhaps, yourself?”  The sudden fire in Aryel’s eyes reminded Etlin why few people dared speak to them so boldly. “I don’t have that choice. Are you going to sit here all day telling me why I’m living my life wrong, or did you actually need something?”  Etlin decided not to point out that Akinta was old enough now to rule if Aryel would step back, or that older rulers before them had always let themselves rest and enjoy life while their advisors made decisions. It wouldn’t do any good, and with Aryel in this mood it might get them sent away before they could ask the questions they feared Aryel already wouldn’t want to hear.

@whumperless-whump-event

[secretbloodloss]

this or that - whump tropes (42)

[secretbloodloss]

Whumperless Whump/Whumpmas in July Day 3

I decided to combine the prompts for both events!

Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?” | “__ deserved it”

Characters are random OCs I created for this. And then I decided I like them, so you might see more of them later. ---

Katya hadn’t even showered off the blood and grime before she hit the gym. 

Connor was safely in the medical wing, unconscious but stabilized, his wound stitched and his crushed leg being operated on. Katya was no use sitting there watching the doctors work. The best thing she could do right now was to make sure this never happened again. 

She started with lifting weights, imagining she was lifting the rubble off Connor’s body. How heavy had it been? She added another ten-pound weight and felt her muscles burn. 

Then cardio— if she'd gotten there faster, she could have stopped Connor from losing so much blood. She went five laps, then ten, around the deserted gym. By the eleventh, her sides ached and she was panting. Back to weightlifting, then. Her arms shook as she raised the barbell. 

Katya didn't know how long she continued pushing her body to its limits. She could tell it was taking longer to complete each exercise. She felt disconnected from reality, disconnected from her own body as it screamed at her to take a break. She ignored it and pushed onward. 

The door opened with a clang. Katya stopped running to turn and look, and oh that was a bad idea because the moment she wasn't in motion, her head started spinning. 

Elisha approached, their eyes soft with concern. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Katya was a bit dizzy, but that wasn't anything to be worried about. Elisha should be fussing over Connor, not her. 

“You’re swaying. Have you been working out this whole time?” 

Katya pushed herself to start jogging again, and if that happened to take her in the opposite direction from Elisha, even better. “I’m fine.” 

She heard footsteps behind her— Elisha following. Katya increased her speed, despite her burning muscles. The sense of vertigo also increased. Katya stumbled. 

Elisha was there, holding out Katya’s water bottle, long since abandoned over by the wall. “Drink.” 

“It’s empty.” 

“Have you thought about refilling it?” Elisha asked in their mom-friend voice. 

“Can’t take a break.” Katya threw herself onto the nearest weightlifting bench and placed her hands on the weight above her. She meant to lift, but maybe a moment of just laying here and holding onto something stable would make the room stop spinning. 

“Woah, woah, woah, you need a spotter with that.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen,” Katya grumbled, “I crush my leg?” 

A pause. Elisha’s face swam into view above her. “This is about Connor, isn’t it?” 

“If I had been faster, stronger—” 

“He’d still be injured.” Elisha gently pried Katya’s hands from the bar. “You did the best you could.” 

Katya wanted to argue, but she felt dizzy and untethered. Now that her body had a moment of inactivity, all of the aches and pains she’d been ignoring were coming back in full force. 

“You need rest,” Elisha said. “Or maybe a shower first. And have you eaten anything since this morning?” They held out a hand to Katya to help her up. 

Katya took their hand and stood. A wave of vertigo hit her. Katya stumbled, suddenly weak and nauseous and sweaty and why was the room spinning? 

“I’m fine,” she instinctively protested. 

“Sure.” Elisha graciously didn’t mention that they were supporting nearly her full weight. 

Katya tried to take another step— she could do it, she just needed to push past the dizziness and exhaustion— and her legs wobbled. 

“Actually, let’s sit back down for now.” Elisha eased Katya back onto the bench. “I’ll get you some water. I think the vending machine has the kind with electrolytes.” 

Katya closed her eyes, just for a moment. “I don’t need your help,” she mumbled. Then: “Can you get me the mango flavor?” 

“Of course.” 

--- @whumperless-whump-event @whumpmasinjuly-archive

[secretbloodloss]

Whumperless Whump Event—Day 3 

Vertigo/struggling to stand/“is the room spinning or is it just me?” 

OC: Aryel’eso tsu’Mais  Story: Blood and Ice 

I’m too old for this. It was a thought Aryel had been having since they were about 25, and they would maintain that it was correct every time. It was almost an automatic routine, now—grumble internally, contemplate retirement, drag themself up, get a quick patch up, and pick up their axe again. Arrows were a particular bother though, because the patching up was a lot less quick and more than once they’d had to go home for some weeks to stare at tapestries that reminded them of the battles they were missing. Alright, enough stalling. Grab the rough tree trunk beside them and start trekking back. The bark digging into their palm would be good for a distraction. They grabbed as high as they could reach and pulled themself up shakily to their feet— And the world went dark. Aryel felt their knees buckle but had no sense of the ground to catch themself. Strong arms wrapped around their good side just in time and eased them back down, so that they were leaning against the tree. It dug into their back, but not enough to distract from the pain beneath their ribs. Their vision returned slowly, dark spots dancing and their head still swimming. They had known what they would see—Etlin's familiar face, thick brows furrowed in concern. Etlin worried every time, more than Aryel’s own parent had. Their hand didn’t leave Aryel’s arm, and Aryel was secretly glad of the comfort. This won’t help the rumors of us. The thought was so ridiculous and out of place Aryel wanted to laugh, but they suspected that would only increase the pain spreading across their ribs. “This doesn’t look good,” Etlin pitched their voice low and, now that Aryel thought about it, had their body turned so the closest soldiers couldn’t directly see their wound. Aryel thought about brushing them off. Trying to stand again, maybe with Etlin’s help, and stumble back to camp. It was fine, probably. Would be fine. Their body was already criss-crossed with scars. But damn it all, this hurt. The last thing they wanted to do was move. Breathing was already setting their chest on fire. They meant to ask How bad? Not that they were worried, just to check. But their breathe caught on the pain, they couldn’t get enough air, and finally they closed their eyes. Better just to lie still and let their friend deal with this.

@whumperless-whump-event

[secretbloodloss]

Landing on your soft spot

Whumperless Whump Event Day 2:

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Hey, friends! Thanks for all the positive feedback on my previous fic! A couple of people asked to be tagged, I'll sort it out when I have a little more time and mental energy to sit and see who!

Thanks to Seth for hosting the event, visit @whumperless-whump-event to read more works!

This is one features Vittoria, who is a badass toughie superhero, but has a soft spot for children, especially children in danger. You can have a little primer on her and my other OCs here: [link].

Word count: 722

Content warnings: Car accident, motorcycle accident, a child being involved in the accident (don't worry the kid is fine and doesn't get hurt at all).

-x-

When Vi turned the corner with her motorcycle, the woman she was chasing had released a cloud of thick, black smoke, obscuring her entire view of the street.

She resisted the panic rising in her gut and kept her bike steady, sounding her horn to hopefully signal whoever was around to get the hell out of the way.

She decided it would be safer to stop, but she didn't have a second to consider her plan before all she could see in the inches where the smoke was clearing out was the face of a child in the window of a car.

That she was going full speed towards.

The world spun around loudly and she was on the ground. She pushed the bike off of her leg and got on her feet, scrambling to get a good look into the car window again, to check on the kid.

She caught a glimpse of the figure, a chubby face crying, going as far as they could in their car seat.

Her knees buckled and her hand slipped away from the window she was leaning against.

Her body landed awkwardly on top of her bike as she struggled to control half of her body. She managed to catch herself, but not before hitting her shin on the muffler and getting poked in the ribs by the footrest while trying to get up again. Of course, catching herself involved slamming her elbow on the concrete.

She attempted using her powers to see through the car, but the effort immediately rang a high pitch through her ears and filled her vision with darkness.

As soon as she started getting her bearings again, there was a man talking to her. The driver of the car, judging by the open door and empty seat.

Vi couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he was pushing her back down as she struggled to get up.

“Stay down, don't get up”, she managed to make it out as he pushed her to her knees. She managed a burst of energy to quickly grab his wrist.

“T-The kid-” The man recoiled in surprised, and probably from her too strong grip. “Is the kid- Is the kid okay?”

“She's fine. She's all right, don't worry,” He untangled her hand from his arm, going back to his attempts at getting her to lie down. He didn't have to work hard now, Vittoria's body offered little resistance after her worries were soothed.

Vi remembered being lowered down, but then she was suddenly on her back, helmet visor flipped open.

“Hey, eyes open, the ambulance is almost here.”

She squinted at him, trying to see clearly despite the sun in her eyes.

“She's not hurt, is she?” She rasped. Talking was getting difficult, she was crashing after the adrenaline rush, possibly combined with a mild concussion.

“No,” the man, crouching beside her head, looked around, signaling someone out of her sight. She was too tired to turn her head to see. “Come here, honey. Bring her. It's ok.”

A tall woman appeared in the corner of her field of vision, and she carried with her the child, not much older than five, eyes puffy and red, clutching the mother's shirt like she was hanging from it, but otherwise completely uninjured.

Vi sighed, the weight of preoccupation lifting from her body, but immediately replaced with the weight of pain and bone deep exhaustion.

“See, she's ok, just a little spooked,” the man squeezed her shoulder slightly, trying to keep her awake and calm. “She's alright, don't worry.”

She squinted at the figures above her, the kid squirming in her mother's arms, clearly troubled by the situation she didn't understand. Vi strained to keep her vision from doubling as she kept her eyes on the pair, as if looking away would take away the certainty that she hadn't hurt any of the passengers.

She heard sirens in the distance, and watched the man who had been stabilizing her head got up and waved at the ambulance. Another weight started being lifted from her: the weight of consciousness.

“Hey,” she licked her lips and rasped. “The deal was ‘stay awake until the ambulance gets here’, right?”

He crouched back down to hear her better. “... What?”

“Sorry about your car, friend.” And she closed her eyes.

[secretbloodloss]

summer is here! what better way to spend it than... staying inside and writing, drawing, making gifs, and otherwise staying out of the heat?

July whump events starting today:

🎄 Whumpmas in July (@whumpmasinjuly), prompts here, a 31-day whump event (10 writing prompts, 21 community prompts)

🌊 Whumperless Whump Event (@whumperless-whump-event), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

🏖️ July Break Bingo (@julybreakbingo), signups here, a bingo board writing event (that can be customized as a whump event in the streamline options)

August whump events starting next month:

🍉 Augusnippets (@augusnippets), prompts here, a short-form whump event (can be customized as a 10/11-day or 30/31-day event)

🍊 August of Whump (@augustofwhump), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

🎂 Randowhump's Birthday Whump Event (@randowhump), prompts here, a 16-day whump event

📽️ Whump Gifathon (@whumpgifathon), prompts here, a 31-day whump gif-making event

July/August giant/tiny events (the other niche community i'm a part of), since there's enough this summer for me to make a whole section for em:

🧚‍♀️ GT July (@gianttol), prompts here, a 31-day giant/tiny event

🫂 Hug a Giant Day, a 1-day giant/tiny event, is July 21st

🫂 Hug a Tiny Day, a 1-day giant/tiny event, is August 11th

that's all i've got! i'll be completing Whumpmas in July and dipping into a couple other july events, and i'll be completing Augusnippets as well. hope to see you try one of these out, too!

[secretbloodloss]

shout out to impaling frfr. get pinned by the elements. you cannot move because the moment you cry out for help, every part of your body is going to recognize the foreign object neatly tucked into your ribs and the ground beneath your back. the only reason you're still alive is the same thing that's going to kill you, the same thing that hurts so, so much.

and if you do survive? the literal hole in your chest doesn't scar easy. the remnants of wood chips in your bloodstream can make you sick on top of immobilized. the recovery's harder than the initial pinning. get ready for a long, hard ride, whumpee.

[secretbloodloss]

Nice whumpy thing: when people are intensely pragmatic about their injuries illnesses.

“Listen, if I pass out…”

“If you let up pressure, I’ll bleed out. So just, don’t move.”

“I know it ill hurt, just do what you need to.”

[secretbloodloss]

When a character, at the end of their strength, is staggering from surface to surface leaning heavily on every available support and stops for a moment, sagging against whatever they're leant on, slumping almost sliding down the surface that's the only thing keeping them even marginally upright, with their breath coming in ragged pants, and as they brace an arm against the supporting surface, head bowed, their laboured breathing, noisy and strenuous, is concentrated in the space between.

[secretbloodloss]

It can’t REALLY just be me who is annoyed that 90% of all whump content seems to be purely about male characters. Right??