Saw your posts about trans women in the community, and I can't help but wonder: how can we expect that a group of women that is fighting to be recognized as women, would be interested in a community that only writes men?
Listen, I am a cis woman, and sometimes not seeing any type of woman being whumped discourages me... just think about trans women, who not only are women, but are also probably going through the path of discovering themselves/letting others discover them as women: I imagine that representation must be very important for these women... and we are not able to provide that.
^that might very well be one of the factors, yes. other people have said more times & better than me that we as a community just give the spotlight to male whumpees in our stories in detriment of centering girls and women and although i know for some people it comes from a place of 'i am sick of seeing women being brutalized in media so im going to avoid doing that' but also just. whump is not the same thing as fridging your main character's wife for shock value it is about a character being the protagonist of their pain! and the prevalence of boys and men over anything else in this kind of scenario IS also misoginy, whether we are aware of that or not. as ive said before, recently ive seen an upstick of people calling for and uplifting lady whump and personally i think we're improving a lot on it so hopefully the scene is going to become more balanced as we move forward :)
ty for your input and thats definitely important but i also think that there could be other factors we might be overlooking and i unfortunately am not able to point them out myself. if anyone else has something to say i'd love to hear!
(the magnus archives) why does jon go through so much? i mean, i'm not complaining, but like... is he just an inherently whumpable character or something lmao
my endless love for whumpees decked out in an absolutely unnecessary amount of restraints
blindfolds, gags, and ear covers on whumpees who already know exactly who’s hurting them and couldn’t even be heard by anyone who would help them if they could scream
heavy iron chains, cuffs, and collars on whumpees who couldn’t have even broken out of thin ropes
muzzles on whumpees who are completely lacking in fangs or any kind of biting capability
extremely intricate bindings covering every bit of whumpee’s body, leaving them completely incapable of movement, when they were already trapped somewhere they had no hope of escaping on their own
it just really sends a message, y’know? whumper painstakingly wrapping them up, like a present for themself, as if to say, yes, i already know how helpless you are - i just need you to feel it too ❤️
black whumpees. black whumpees who were raised in a lab/living weapon facility/something to that effect and never had anyone teach them how to take care of their hair and always just had it roughly untangled with no regard for their pain meeting caretaker (also black) who knows how to do wonderful cornrows in whimsical patterns and softly comb their hair with more gentleness than they've ever known before. black whumpees with a creepy whumper who thinks their eyes—dark as the night, just as deep, just as starry, just as infinite—are the most beautiful thing on the world. black pet whumpee with a godawful no-good whumper who forces them to speak "proper" (= standard english or their setting's equivalent, whumper's definition of unproper being AAVE/ebonics) and who finally finds a safe space to let go and speak normally during recovery. black whumpee who got their hair forcefully cut/shaved in captivity getting to wear bright, beautiful extensions and braids to try and make up for what was lost, now that they have the freedom to. black whumpee snatched up and raised in captivity and isolated from their culture being tended to by a community who helps them reconnect with the lost time, good food making them tear up with nostalgia longing for a time they barely remember existed.
black whumpees in all shades of skin from bronze terracota to the deepest mahogany & with all kinds of hair from a curly cloud of sheep's wool to a fluffy, looser kind of curls & black whumpees in all shapes & sizes & all kinds of gender and sexuality or lack thereof & as robots and fairies and angels and vampires from all kinds of backgrounds & with all kinds of trauma. yes please.
something i never see explored with caretaker or friend characters is what it's like to grow up surrounded by traumatised people, but have no trauma of your own. it feels like you're on the outside of this club that you can only get into by going through something Really Bad, even though the people inside the club are happy to welcome you anyway, you know you'll never actually fit in.
and fucked up as it sounds, you want to fit in. you want the awful things to happen to you. you feel envious of what they have, even if that thing is memories of the most awful things known to man and consequences that run your daily functioning into the ground.
you're not sick enough to relate to the sick people, but you've seen ever so slightly too much to fit in with the "normal" people. your problems seem so minimal compared to these life-altering horrors that the whumpees have been through, yet you're not coping anyway. so either you admit that the problem is yourself, or you find a reason to react that way.
give me caretakers that sit through whumpee's stories and swallow back envy. who actively go looking for danger and dodgy people in the hopes that they'll go through something that can put them on whumpee's level. who plan out how to make things worse in precise, structured detail, then get angry with themself because what the fuck are they doing and it doesn't count if it's fucking orchestrated.
Lady whump is so hard to find, especially here on tumblr. So I figured i’d make it a little bit easier for us lady whumpers to find content, and for newbies to join the community!
The main “thing” will be a google sheet with all of the lady whump and a google form for everyone to submit their lady whump moments!
I need your help
Let me know what you want to see on this masterlist!
What questions should be included on the google form? What information should be included on the google sheet? Should I include a section for lady whump blogs? All suggestions are welcome!
Please reblog!
(PS. I am aware of something else similar that already exists but only includes writing. This is going to be for tv/movies)
This sounds awesome. If you do not have it already, may I recommend the movie The Invisible Man (modern one). It has FANTASTIC whump that is centered around a woman, and lets her be bloody and exhausted in a real feeling way (rather than always having to keep her “pretty” for audience appeal or something ugh)
“It’s definitely not out of the question,” Whumper purred, stroking his knife. “But I don’t think we’ll even need to go that far. It’s just… you have a naturally loud voice. It carries. And I’m not even speaking about volume. What you say carries. It inspires. It carries a message. It carries far, to all the other cells we have here. And right now, I want you to broadcast the message of defeat.”
He crouched down in front of him, pricked the knife straight up into the underside of the man’s chin. But Leader didn’t look up, even when drops of blood flowed down his throat, the stream slowly splitting over his Adam’s apple.
“Look at me,” Whumper growled. “Before I pin your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”
Leader closed his eyes for a second, in patience, resignation, Whumper wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, by the way something moved under his eyelids, was that Leader rolled his eyes at him. But before he could say anything about it, those eyes snapped open and instantly found his. Whumper looked him straight in the eye. There was nothing there; no fear of what was about to come, nothing that remotely resembled anything close to defeat. He didn’t even wince when Whumper slowly turned the tip of the knife.
“I think you’ve got the wrong man for that,” Leader merely said, leaving it up to Whumper whether he meant he couldn’t—or wouldn’t.
Whumper took a long, sharp inhale through his nose and didn’t immediately exhale. Then he pried his knife free.
“Very well,” he said in a lethal tone. He stood, let the knife drop from his hand, resisting the urge to flick it away and reveal his frustration. “There was never much choice in this matter. But have it your way.”
Without another word, he busied himself with Leader’s bonds, clipping something to his handcuffs before freeing them from the bolt to the floor. He walked across the cell, hoisted a chain, and pulled Leader to his feet.
Leader went along, knowing he couldn’t break free from the iron pulling him up, not wasting his energy. When he was stretched out, hands tied above his head, Whumper stopped.
And he picked up the whip.
The first lash forced out a sharp hiss of pain. It slashed through Leader’s white undershirt and red immediately soaked through.
A steady rhythm of lashes, leather against skin, snapped through the air. It alerted the troops to what was happening, without a doubt. But Leader kept his pain bottled safe within.
The barrage kept going. Skin split open violently, the leather carving deeper with each hit. Blood stuck his shirt to his skin, sweat soaked the shirt until it turned to a see-through flimsy barrier across his back. Leader took every hit almost patiently. But he knew very well he couldn’t keep from screaming for long.
Grunts turned to small cries when the pain became too much. He was on the brink of losing control over his voice. And finally that voice boomed free. But not in the way Whumper wanted.
“Men!” Leader roared, letting the pent up pain explode in the single word. His voice didn’t even crack. It echoed against the walls of the cell. Carried the length of the dreary corridor. And could clearly be heard by both foe and friend. “What is defeat?!”
Whumper, his arm drawn back for another hit, stopped in his tracks in surprise.
Almost immediately, a raucous roar came in reply from outside.
“Temporary!” The men shouted back as one. A loud cacophony of shouts and cheers rose up. They rattled against the bars of their cells with whatever they could find, shook the doors in their hinges.
Whumper lashed him again with all his might in frustration. But the noise drowned out Leader’s following, genuine scream.
“This. Is. Not. Temporary!” Whumper shouted, each word emphasized by another lash.
Mere angry welts weeping blood turned to vicious open wounds as Whumper kept going harder. Leader’s shirt was nothing but shreds by now. Muscles trembled underneath, in pain, in exertion trying to keep himself up. But even despite all that—
He let out a chuckle.
In a rage, Whumper flew forward. He threw his whip down, circled around Leader, and grabbed his chin, roughly yanking his head up.
“What is so funny?” he hissed.
“You didn’t let me finish… earlier,” Leader panted through a wicked grin. “I was going to say… If you think me screaming… will break their spirit…” A small scoff broke through. “You’re mistaken.”
The uproar outside kept surging, expanding, escalating now that Whumper’s men tried to calm it down. Shouts of “Shut up!” were unheard. Even a warning gunshot only led to boisterous cheers.
“All you did…” Leader continued. “Is make them more angry.”
Give me a man handcuffed and chained to a chair, cuffs wrapped tightly around ankles and wrists. Blood running down his face, whilst he whimpers through the beating bestowed upon him. He mutters again and again, “I can take it”, whilst blood drips from his chin and black eyes bloom. The hand rears back and punches him across the face again. His head slumps to his chest as blood and saliva pool on his exposed chest.
“You're an asshole.” Whumpee muttered weakly. They were tired, exhausted, and covered in their own blood.
Whumper couldn't help but smile, “Only an asshole? Is that the worst you think of me?”
Whumpee didn't have the strength to respond, only able to lay on the floor taking in painful breaths from their bruised ribs. They had an almost annoyed kind of defiance— they only felt comfortable calling their captor names because they weren't the type to get mad over it.
Whumper crouched down and ran their fingers through their hair. “Come up with something better and maybe I'll be proud of you.”
