#lady!whump

[sickfictropes]

who here likes lady whump? 

[taylortut]

i'm feeling so anxious. panic attack meds are doing nothing and i'm in a pain flare and struggling to do much to distract myself. writing is the only thing that's relieving it. What lady OCs would you read for tonight?

space! like moby dick meets star trek

knights! medieval buddies

whatever your TLPoE ladies are - found family edition

your TLPoE ladies - post-betrayal strained relationship edition

21st century platonic neighbor friends

i want something supernatural!

i don't prefer female OCs. how about some guys?

i don't read OC stories. where's the fanfic?

Voting ended onNov 30, 2023

[classywhump]

Is Lady!whump Misogynist?

So I logged into this account to see that the discourse of the hour is “whether or not lady!whump is misogynist”. As a lady and a whumper, I think my conclusion on that matter is predictable, but I just wanted to offer a bit of reasoning as to why I think lady!whump is not misogynist.

In order to explain in depth I have to go back in time pretty far, in fact, all the way to the time of Shakespeare. At that time, by the way, “whether women have souls” was a question very much open for public discussion.

At that time a lot of literature and romances by both men and women was focused on proving that women actually do have feelings that are both as deep and complex as men’s. See Shakespeare’s female characters, whose romantic interest in men often drives the plot, as opposed to being only the other way around, which was standard at the time. In fact, the Twelfth Night is a great example of this, as Viola has to disguise herself as a man to get close to her true love and be able to discuss with him the fact that women can have feelings just as much as men do.

This seemed to sink in, and by the time we get to the 19th century people are all about that delicate feminine sensibility, in fact it’s already a bit of a cliche. We’ve gone from “do women have feelings?” to “women have way more feelings than men, and it’s gross”. Because there was still prevalent misogyny, of course, acknowledging that women have feelings meant feelings were increasingly being considered feminine, but women’s feelings were also silly and sentimental, and women were simply too delicate, they could perhaps perish of a strong emotion. What we might think of as lady!whump was actually pretty common at this time but it was also considered cliched even then because it was always pure girls too good for this world dying tragically. Sometimes I have to go back this far to read any good lady!whump (though only the ones written by women are any good) because of what happened after that. 2nd wave feminism hit around the 1960′s and the already somewhat tired, disliked damsel in distress tropes fell into HARD scorn. Feelings = feminine and feminine = weak. And weakness is bad. After all, a woman showing weakness validates the old sexist stereotypes about women. Therefore women in fiction are not to be vulnerable, or have silly old FEELINGS because we’re STRONG, like MEN. Right around this time we have the birth of the female action hero. The female action hero is empowered and sexy. She’s not happy, but she’s not allowed to be sad either. She’s always on top of everything. If she can’t talk her way out of a situation she knocks the bad men out with her four inch heels. If she’s ever captured she’s not allowed to show fear, if she’s hurt she’s not allowed to show pain, and she never needs someone else to rescue her-- she’s about to break out of her bonds and kick ass. She was never in distress, she was capable of escaping the entire time. If someone asks about her wounds, she scoffs-- she doesn’t need their pity.

She’s also completely unrelatable. I know it’s been said that women suffer enough in real life, and fiction is glorifying violence against women or something like that. I can see instances where the death and suffering of women is used primarily for shock value. I’ve always found those extremely unsatisfying. The difference, I think, is that whump, specifically, uses suffering to serve the character, rather than to serve only the plot. When the suffering of women is used to serve only the plot I find it utterly uninteresting. When it’s used to serve the character it’s humanizing and relatable.

Even when I was a child and not aware of tropes, I noticed that even the most distressed damsels were never portrayed as a man would be in the same situation. We’re never locked in the tower with her, we’re on the outside looking in. A woman’s death is used to show off how dangerous the monster of the week is-- and that’s fine on occasion, because the monster has to kill somebody, 50/50 chance. But does a woman get an obi-wan moment? Are women applauded for their courage in the face of fear? Can they crumble and be rebuilt without being faulted by the narrative for weakness? Is this you? Not a hypothetical ideal invulnerable fearless you, but the real you.

I think lady!whump is important for a couple of reasons.

1. When men suffer and die in fiction they often do so nobly, admirably and for their own character development. Lady!whump allows women to have the same opportunity to see themselves this way in fiction.

2. If women suffer, they are allowed to want to be comforted. I’m allowed to want to be comforted. Maybe Scarlett Johansson doesn’t want your pity, but I am not Scarlett Johansson. The Strong(tm) Woman(tm) is not even my role model. It’s precisely because women are hurt in real life that we need lady!whump that allows women to see themselves in fully realized, vulnerable characters capable of strength but also in need of comfort. ~

[evilwriter37]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rated: mature

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, major character death

Pairings: none

Word Count: 5,825

Summary: Ruffnut is captured by Viggo, and Hiccup drives himself mad imagining what he could be doing to her. They have to find her.

[lifblogs]

Anyway, I stan Lindsey Morgan.

[whumpadoodle]

For all you lady whumpers out there: Stumptown

Trust me

[whump-my-dear-watson]

i know what whump is, but what is womp? great blog btw. have a good day :)

Thanks for asking, I know all these terms can be confusing!

Womp is another word for lady!whump, there have been many conversations about it and if lady whump couldn't just be under the whump tag, but I am aware that there are some people that seeing woman whump is triggering, which is understandable seeing as though many of us are women, so I'm perfectly happy enjoying it under a different tag so that others may block it if they need to protect themselves.

That was a really long answer lol, but yeah it's just another term for lady whump.

Thank you so much, and I hope YOU have a wonderful day! :)

[imawriternotafighter]

Orientation

Warnings- pets, ownership, physical abuse

Jegudiel stumbled and landed hard into a cell, unable to catch herself with her hands cuffed behind her back. She was absolutely fuming, still wearing her tuxedo from the party she’d been at with Al and Anne. The air was acrid and bitter; even indoors, the smell of Hell permeated everything. The portal had let her and her captors out close to the castle, but the scent was already sticking to her clothes.

She pushed her until she was sitting upright, leaning back against the wall and facing the door, which was slammed and locked as she watched. She drew her knees up to her chest and tried to avoid leaning on her bound arms as best she could.

She didn’t have very long to wait, as it turned out; only about ten minutes passed before the door unlocked and swung open again. In rushed an excited demon, wearing an orange pantsuit; she was about the same height as Jegudiel, and, with the angel sitting on the floor, the demon towered over her. Jegudiel shrank back against the stone wall, a defensive snarl rising to her lips as the demon approached.

The demon stopped, grinning excitedly. “Oh, you’re finally here! I’m Mammon, and you belong to me now. Oh, I’m so excited. You’re so pretty. You’re gonna be my good girl.”

Jegudiel already hated the sound of this. And yet, it got worse.

“We’re gonna get you a collar, too. And I hope that you talk a lot- a lot of it might be begging, sure, but I will like hearing from you. And there will be times when I just want to say nice things and hear nice things back, y’know? Oh, this is going to be so fun!”

And Jegudiel steeled herself and sank further back against the wall, and she resolved then and there that Mammon wouldn’t be getting a word out of her, not one word. Mammon seemed to be waiting expectantly for some response, and she was visibly disappointed when she didn’t get one. Her tone was a bit more sullen as she said:

“Well, you’ll talk eventually.” She rapidly became chipper again. “Either way, though, you’re gonna be my pretty little pet. It might be hard at first,” She reassured, “but I promise that I’m willing to put in the work of training you. I’m going to make you good for me.”

Doggedly, Jegudiel reminded herself that she didn’t have to be better. She was good enough as she was. She was good enough. She didn’t have to be good. She’d spent a lot of time on Earth learning that, and she wasn’t going to give it up now.

Mammon leaned forward and ran a hand down her cheek; Jegudiel recoiled, shoving herself away and down the wall, landing in the corner and hunching in on herself defensively. She did not want to be touched, not by this demon who was advertising her bad intentions and who was possessive in a disgustingly familiar way that Jegudiel didn’t want to think about.

Mammon clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she pushed herself back upright. “Now, that is what I meant about training. You’re mine- I’m allowed to touch you if I want to, and you’re not allowed to stop me. I won’t punish you this time, because it was your first offense. But now you know- you let me touch you, or there will be consequences.”

But she didn’t try to touch Jegudiel again just yet, as Jegudiel was expecting. Instead, she called over her shoulder. “Get her changed. She’s not wearing the penguin suit while she’s down here. White button-down, black slacks, blue intimates- you know what kind. No pockets, no socks or shoes. If she’s good,” And here she turned back to Jegudiel, “she can change herself. I’m sure she’s at least bright enough to do that.”

Jegudiel didn’t restrain herself from snarling lowly, but, after Mammon left and another demon brought in the clothes she had listed and released Jegudiel’s wrists, she quietly undressed and dressed again without arguing and without letting herself be touched. She planned to fight, but she knew that she had nowhere to go from here, and she wanted to save her fight for things that mattered.

She didn’t like the underwear. She didn’t know why Mammon wanted them blue, and she didn’t know why there was so little material to her underwear, and she didn’t know why there was neither wire nor elastic to her bra. She didn’t like or trust it, but she had already resolved not to speak, so she didn’t ask.

Jegudiel got dressed without any fuss. She started to tug away when a demon tried to put her handcuffs back on, though. She didn’t quite take a swing at him, but she was close, only really stopped when a second demon knocked her down to her knees from behind. Her wrists were cuffed, but she was left in the cell for a bit longer.

Mammon returned before it was too long, though, only letting about ten minutes pass. She was once again absolutely thrilled to see Jegudiel, cooing over how pretty she was. Mammon started to stroke her hands through Jegudiel’s hair, and Jegudiel, without thinking, ducked her head away from her touch. Without hesitation, Mammon fisted her hand into the angel’s hair, yanking her head back, and backhanded her across the face. She let Jegudiel fall to the side, shocked and hurt.

“Now, do you know why I did that, sweetheart?” Jegudiel nodded miserably, pushing herself back up against the wall. “And that was a pretty weak punishment, I’d say. The longer you’re here, the worse your punishments will get, because you should know better. Come on, get up. I’ll take you to your room.”

Jegudiel pushed herself up to her feet, drawn in on herself defensively, all too aware that Mammon could do pretty much whatever she wanted to do to her at this point. Jegudiel stiffened as Mammon moved behind her, and she started to turn to keep Mammon in her sight. Mammon tutted and forcibly twisted Jegudiel to face forward again.

“In general, dear, if I don’t move you, don’t move. Like now, for example, I will be moving you to your room.” Jegudiel forced herself to stay still when Mammon wrapped a hand around her arm and guided her forward. She tried not to stumble as Mammon pushed her from the cell, a pit growing in her stomach as she thought about the possibilities in front of her.

It was going to be a long fifty years.