So in terms of how much the whumpee succeeds to defy the whumper (or the whump, if it's them against nature, their wounds, illness, what have you), where is the sweetspot for you, and why?

I like it when the whumpee manages to defy whatever whump is brought upon them, but only....with difficulty. I want to see them struggle with it, maybe slipping up occasionally, perhaps even temporarily loosing control/their composure/breaking down a little/giving up, but still finding their strength and winning out in the end.

I think my sweet spot is much like yours.  I like to see a whumpee pushed to their limits, especially those who are determined not to break. As they get closer to that point, sometimes there’s a fear, not necessarily of the whump or the whumper, but of showing weakness, of losing the fight, losing themself. One thing that will give me whumperflies every time - and it takes a good actor to pull this off - is when a whumpee is outwardly calm, even defiant, but there’s a little tell that reveals the hidden pain or fear. A tiny tremor in the voice, for example, or when the whumper turns away from them and they close their eyes, just for a breath.

And, like you said the other day, it can be amazing if they do break...but then they pull enough strength from somewhere to put themself back together, determined to go on, determined not to let their experience define them. Or if it does, they’re going to decide what that looks like.

Ohh you described it perfectly - that is exactly what i meant! And yes, i hadn't even put those words to it, but that idea of them being scared to lose themselves (rather than losing by some externally defined standard) is such a good component in whump for me. It's like, it may not even matter if they cry or scream - for some of them it might, but not for all - as long as they don't "lose" in a way that matters to them, that irreparably strips them of their agency. Although, as for external standards, i'm a really big fan of the trying-to-keep-quiet trope, and for that, a small tell like the ones you mentioned - showcasing both their defiance and their struggle - is perfect.

Whump Trope:

Gripping the bedsheets really tight when their wounds are being patched up.

Hands

I love all of these, and if I may also add:

- Nails digging into their palm as they clench their fists against the pain

- Twitching helplessly as a needle is slowly pushed under the nail

- Desperately scrambling to hold onto a ledge, knowing that letting go would lead to certain death

- Squeezing the hand of a loved one as their wound is stitched in the field

- A caretaker's hand over the whumpee's mouth, stopping any pained sounds from escaping because they're hiding and they can't afford to make any noise

- Fumbling to do up a coat button in the bitter cold

- Bruised knuckles from a fight, or maybe from hitting the door of their cell in frustration

- Shaking fingers trying to apply pressure to a bleeding wound, grip weakening by the minute

- Fingers bruised and broken from being crushed under a heavy boot

Pain tolerance

I was reading some whump and I finally realised what it is exactly that gives me instant whumperflies, every time:

Another character commenting on the whumpee's pain tolerance, usually in their internal monologue or even out loud.

Like, maybe the caretaker gets a glimpse of some poorly covered up injury and all they can think is 'how high must their pain tolerance be to walk around all day as if it were nothing?'

Or maybe, a character is forced to watch another be hurt and they can't tell if they're impressed or slightly horrified by how well the whumpee takes the torture, staying still and quiet, because 'what must have happened to them for them to take the pain like that?'

Or maybe, it's the whumper saying it, mocking the whumpee in a sickly sweet voice, dripping with fake care, because 'oh you're so well behaved, so good at taking everything I do to you. One would almost think you enjoy it,' and the whumpee feels sick at the words, because what if they're true?

Sam, collared

There is only one person to blame for this, and it’s @thesithwhumper ( @highladyofthesith ). I wasn’t even a fan of collars, until she made me imagine Sam in one, and dragged me into the depths of collar whump. Also tagging @paininmyheart-imalive , who has been patiently waiting for this. Enjoy!

A damn collar, that was what their captor was holding as he walked into their cell. Sam struggled uselessly in their bonds, but they knew that the heavy chains holding them wouldn’t let them escape.

“What do you want from me?”, they snarled, trying to sound defiant while they still could.

The man approached Sam, and crouched down in front of where they were kneeling on the hard concrete floor, held firmly against the wall. A cold hand caressed their cheek, and they instinctively jerked away, unsettled by the intimacy of the gesture. A sharp slap resounded in the room, followed by a pained intake of breath.

“All I want, is for you to finally be my sweet, obedient pet.”

With those words, the collar was wound around their neck, even as they thrashed desperately against the harsh material enclosing their throat. Their captor tightened the loop with a smile, and they suddenly found themself struggling to take in air.

“I… will never… be yours,” they managed to force out, despite the pressure on their throat.

“Hm, you are a rather feisty one… ” he mused, “but you’ll be begging soon enough.”

Before the words had even left his mouth, a searing pain overtook Sam, and they bit their lip to stop themself from crying out. They wouldn’t give their tormenter the satisfaction of hearing them scream just yet.

As the pain ebbed away, they considered their current predicament. They were wearing a shock collar, and their captor could cause them agony with just the click of a button. Such a simple action for so much pain.

Much too gently, their hands were released and they immediately tried to struggle. They knew it was futile, but they weren’t planning to go down without a fight.

Sam’s world was filled with burning pain as the shock collar was activated once again. Their voice betrayed them, and they let out a hoarse yell, before collapsing to the floor, gasping.

“Can’t you see that fighting me is useless? You belong to me now.” A boot nudged them, turning them onto their back, calm emerald eyes meeting Sam’s blue ones, filled with pure hatred. “The sooner you accept it, the easier things will be for you.”

In response, they mustered up the last of their strength, and spat at the shiny leather pressing into their side. They expected a kick, but instead, all they got was a dry chuckle and another click.

The pain was just as bad as before, but this time, the agony didn’t subside until there were tears in their eyes, their choked yells filling the room. They couldn’t scream, not really. They could barely breathe.

Through the haze of pain in their brain, they could just about make out the voice of their captor. “Now, I think there’s something you need to say to me…”

Sam didn’t think they could speak even if they wanted to. The lack of oxygen was making their head spin and the edges of the collar cut into their skin.

Another shock, another shout of pain. “I think I deserve an apology,” came that voice again, smug as ever. They didn’t need to open their eyes to know that the man was smiling as he stood over them.

What they wanted to say was ‘like hell you do,’ but instead, they found themself muttering a 'sorry’ under their breath. They hated themself for it the minute the word passed their lips, but the pain just wasn’t worth their dignity anymore.

“Ah, ah, remember who you’re talking to.” Their captor grabbed their chin, forcing them to make eye contact. “And I’m your master now, so you will call me 'sir’.”

There was a moment of silence, as Sam hesitated, trying to decide if the growing revulsion in their gut was worth the decrease in pain. Apparently, even this pause was too long, because the burning agony returned.

Sam curled in on themself, as their body shuddered from the electricity coursing through it, tears now flowing freely down their cheeks. They didn’t know how much more of this they could take. Electrical shocks were some of the worst types of pain, they had found. Their muscles screamed as they convulsed, and they couldn’t just relax, and let the fiery agony wash over them, feeding the flame inside them, as they usually would.

They really had nothing to lose. “Sorry, sir.” It came out shakier than they wanted, and the smirk on their captor’s face immediately made them want to take it back.

“Better, but I’m still not convinced that you want me to stop. You’re going to have to beg better than that.”

With another flick of the finger, the collar lit up again. The pain really was impossible to get used to, and impossible to enjoy.

“Please, sir, I’m sorry,” they gasped, choking on their sobs. “Please make it stop, please.”

The words made them feel sick to their core, but it was worth it if it finally gave them some peace.

“I knew we’d get there in time…” the man grinned. “But I think we can have a bit more fun, no? After all, it was only at the lowest setting…”

Whump Tropes I’m feeling rn

When the whumpee is injured but they need to stay quiet so the leader is holding the whumpee tight with a hand over their mouth to muffle their cries while their teammates patch the whumpee up/stop the bleeding. The leaders hand covering the whumpee’s mouth starts to get slick with tears and sweat as they try to keep them quiet.

The whumpee’s mentor figure trying to keep them grounded by putting their hands on either side of their neck, thumbs brushing the corners of their jaw, and speaking directly to them, telling them it’s ok. The whumpee reaches up and grabs their mentors wrists for something solid to hold onto. Eye contact and foreheads close enough to touch as the whumpee sobs and gasps with suppressed screams.

After a particularly painful ordeal (stitches done/joint dislocation or fracture reduced) the whumpee falls back boneless against the wall/bed/chair as every ounce of tension vanishes in the wake of the extreme pain that’s now gone. Heavy lidded eyes and mouth half open taking deep breaths. Whoever just helped them through the ordeal sits back with them and lightly slaps the whumpee’s knee and rubs it to offer some comfort. Their breaths synchronize and no one speaks.

It’s not the first time. She’s not afraid. And as she has that thought, she realises that it’s even true. She’s not lying to herself. She really isn’t afraid. Just furious.

Her hands have a good solid grip on the rope that binds her wrists. Her teeth are together - no need to make things worse by biting her tongue. Body neither tensed right up nor completely relaxed.

Seconds and tens of seconds pass. Is he trying to make her squirm? Waiting for her to start to relax? Pathetic. Stop playing games and let’s get to it, she snarls to herself. Her breath is even. She waits.

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Fave whump tropes PT 3

Stuffing something in the whumpees mouth for them to bite down on right before they have to do something really painful like splint a fracture, remove a bullet or shrapnel, or stitch up a wound - all without anesthesia.

Increasingly panicked breaths and whimperings of the whumped person as they see the equipment someone has to use to help them, or hear of what medically has to happen, and their companion grabbing their face and turning it away or getting in their line of sight to distract them - “look at me, you can do this.”

Someone having to hold the whumpee down while a wound is stitched and the whumpee is crying and fumbling around to hold one of the hands that are holding them down. One of the companions shifts their position so their torso/shoulder is holding them down and they’re able to hold whumpee’s hand in both of theirs, look straight at them, and talk them through the abject pain.

Can we take a moment to appreciate whumpees trying to stay quiet while in pain? Maybe they’re being tortured and the knife is slowly cutting into them, going deeper and burning more with every second, and they’re trying to breathe through it and let the pain wash over them, but they can’t help but let out some broken gasps, that turn into broken whimpers, and maybe they’re humming a familiar tune to stop them crying out, but the pain gets worse and worse, and they just can’t take it anymore, and finally, they cry out…

That one little gasp or whimper gets so much more expressive when you’ve also seen them trying to keep it in