cupcakes-and-pain

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if I ever strike gold and end up writing a popular book series i'd love to keep an eye on the fandom to determine the smallest crackship and make that the only one that goes canon

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I tried to say "there is no need" and "there is no reason" at the same time and said "there is no neeso"

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I’m a big fan of mage/knight dynamics in any form, so consider:

Mage as a Knight’s Whumpee, featuring:

Being strictly prohibited from casting any spells without their knight’s orders, even in self defense

Being dragged into every battle the knight participates in without any of the armor or support

Forced to cast spells far beyond their level or limit, leading to painful feedback & exhaustion

Only being allowed to wear the colors and symbols of their knight’s heraldry as a sign of ownership

Becoming a target for their knight’s frustrations after any loss or dishonor

Or, alternatively - Knights as a Mage’s Whumpee, featuring:

Being used as meat shields against a mage’s enemies, either through orders or straight up mind control to take the hit

Forced into public tournaments against other mages’ knights and knowing the consequences for if they fail to impress

Becoming a test subject for the mage’s new spells and potions, regardless of how dangerous they may be

Sent on potentially deadly missions to collect rare spell components from monsters and cursed locations

Branded with magic runes that force them to follow the mage’s orders

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Anyway, daily reminder from a culturally isolated Romani person.

Gypsy does not mean wanderer.

It literally means ‘people from egypt’ or similar, as europeans believed Romani people were from Egypt. It has become known similar to nomad due to how our ancestors have been forced to be nomadic due to racism and ostracization, but it is a SLUR.

Romani people are STILL being forcibly sterilized.

Romani people are STILL being forced into ghettos.

Romani people are still facing violence and danger in countless European countries- and recently, I’ve seen the beginnings of the extremes in the United States.

Have a little fucking respect and DON’T USE A SLUR THAT’S BEEN USED FOR CENTURIES AGAINST US.

And for the love of whatever’s up there, ESPECIALLY do not use it to describe your witchcraft. It is playing on the 'magic gypsy’ trope, and is EXTREMELY insulting.

non romani people, please reblog this.

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Addiction whump prompt: whumpee is too ashamed to go home to Caretaker after relapsing, so they end up spending a cold night outside on a park bench or something. Caretaker finds them in the morning.

(Feel free to ignore if it’s not to your tastes ofc! Thank you for your writing!)

#14

content: substance abuse whump (alcohol), addiction whump, addict whumpee, environmental whump, emotional whump, comfort

Whumpee had thought about going home. They really had. After all, where else were they supposed to go?

But then they thought about the horrible stench of alcohol they must’ve been emitting, the very real possibility of throwing up on the nice living room carpet, the way Caretaker’s face would change with disappointment and hurt… And they suddenly thought they could endure one night outside. Just one, just until they sobered up. They would go home in the morning.

So they stumbled into the park, occasionally steadying themself on street lights and trees. They walked to the nearest bench and lay down, face towards the open sky, hands clasped on their upset stomach. 

Why had they done this to themself? They’d been clean for months. The drinks hadn’t even tasted good. The high of it was long gone, leaving only the sharp sting of regret as they swirled and swirled and swirled even more. 

Of course, Caretaker wasn’t going to say what was really on their mind. They’d say something like ‘oh, everyone makes mistakes’ or ‘this doesn’t erase your progress’, and they wouldn’t talk about the reality of the situation, the ‘I trusted you’ and the ‘are you proud of yourself?’ 

They shivered, pulling their thin jacket tighter around their body. It had been warm in the pub, and they’d thought the booze would continue keeping them warm well into the evening, or at least until they fell asleep. They thought about their comfortable bed, the way the mattress would creak and conform to their body, the way their head would sink into the pillow… Oh, the bench was so very rigid and cold. 

Not as cold as the pit of guilt in their stomach.

“Was it worth it?” they slurred to themself. “Was it at least worth it…?” 

They knew the answer. It was always, always the same. 

Nothing was worth disappointing Caretaker. 

Sleep took them swiftly and unexpectedly. They barely had a little time to ruminate on their life choices before they were pulled under, not remembering the last minutes they’d spent awake.

“Whumpee?”

Whumpee groaned and tried to turn over — whatever they had been lying on wasn’t wide enough for that. They rolled off the edge and landed in mud, which sobered them up quite quickly.

“Whumpee!”

Someone rushed over to them and helped them up while they were sputtering and trying to get rid of the taste of dirt in their mouth. Caretaker. It was Caretaker. Of course it was Caretaker.

“Where am I?” they asked before they could’ve stopped themself, giving away their previous state right away. “I mean—”

“I know you drank,” Caretaker cut in. “I’m sure you thought staying out the whole night was a smart idea, but it really gives the game away, you know? I went to all the pubs when I realised you weren’t coming home, but I couldn’t find you. The park must’ve been too dark for me to spot you, so I woke up early to continue looking… Enough about that. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

Whumpee wiped the mud from their face with the back of their hand. “You… You looked for me?”

Caretaker smiled. At them. Dirty, disgusting, hungover Whumpee. “‘Course. I was worried sick. I’m glad to know you’re okay— Unless you caught a cold sleeping out here.”

“You’re… not mad?”

“I was, at first,” they admitted. “But then I realised I was just worried. The more pubs I went to, the less angry I was. I know… I know it’s difficult for you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to be angry or judge. I just want to know you’re safe at home. That’s really all I want.”

Whumpee let themself be led home, and once their dirty clothes were in the laundry basket and they were fresh out of the shower in clean ones, they ventured out into the kitchen, where Caretaker was making breakfast for them. There was a painkiller and a glass of water already on the table.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” they said quietly. 

“That’s what friends do,” Caretaker said easily. “But Whumpee?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to come home. No matter the state you’re in. I want you here. Okay?” 

Whumpee felt tears pricking their eyes. “I, I really don’t think you do… I was an absolute mess yesterday. Nobody should have to see me like that.”

Caretaker sighed. “This is your home as much as mine. Even if it was all mine— It doesn’t matter. You’re wanted here. You matter so much to me. Even when you relapse. Even when it feels like you’ve taken two steps backwards. Do you believe me?”

Whumpee slowly shook their head, and Caretaker stepped away from the stove to walk over and draw them into a hug. That was all it took for the dam to break, and Whumpee broke down sobbing in their arms.

“I love you, Whumpee. I love you, even when you don’t love yourself. Okay? Please, come home. Always come home.”

“O-Okay,” they sniffled. “I will. I’m sorry.”

Caretaker rubbed their back a little and stepped back, smiling. “Water under the bridge. Let’s eat.”

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This hit home, and I think it will resonate hard with all my creative friends, here. You are amazing and brilliant and I BEG YOU to keep creating!! ❤️❤️❤️

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Ummm something with the team finally finding whumpee and untying them.

Whumpee repeating "I didn't break, I swear I didn't, I didn't tell them anything, I didn't," while sobbing.

It's true, whumpee didn't tell them anything, but all that caretaker cares about now is trying to calm whumpee down before they bleed out even more.

A Messy Rescue

whumpee slumped over until caretaker grabs their face, desperate to see if they're still conscious

wide eyes and split lip-- a flash of recognition-- and before caretaker can assure them that its all going to be okay, whumpee panics

"I didn't say anything, I didn't, please you have to--" their sentences fragment as they gasp for air. "You have to believe me!"

At first, the team is horrified that this is whumpee's recognition. They feel sick. One teammate turns away, unable to stand it. Unable to watch. It's wrong.

Caretaker snaps out of it first. "Help me cut them down!" Then, they notice whumpee's blood drenching through their once-white shirt

As the team works to free whumpee's wrists from the shackles, Caretaker frantically tries to assess the damage. But whumpee keeps thrashing, jerking out of reach and flinching at their touch.

Alternating between, "I didn't say anything!" and "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- please don't-- please don't hurt me!"

The teammates all have these grim expressions, mouths in a thin line

A fluttering horror is embedded in caretaker's chest-- this is so much worse than they could have imagined

Even better if Leader, with real pain in their voice, says "We have to keep them quiet."

Caretaker pulls away for a second, hands half-full of bandages. "What're you saying?"

Leader breaks through the last bit of metal and whumpee slumps to the floor, shivering uncontrollably. Caretaker places one hand protectively on their back, rubbing up and down. They don't stop crying. Leader looks away. "Gag them. Or get them to shut up. We don't need them giving away our position to Whumper"

Carrying a gagged and sobbing whumpee out of the building, caretaker can't look them in the eyes. They keep whispering how sorry they are, but they have no idea if whumpee can even hear them or cares. It feels like betrayal, but they can only hope it was worth it.

"We'll get you better, I promise."

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(tw: death penalty, autopsy, broken bones)

A royal Whumpee.

In their country there's this rule: if the royalty opposes to something, they get up from their throne and no matter what the ordinace was being voted on, it would be rejected.

The revolutionists executed Whumpee for cruelty, because the royalty never said no their corrupted advisers.

Only years later someone learns from illegal autopsy that the royalty frequently had their legs broken.

_______________________

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Peace is a Practice

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I'm so tired. I'm just so tired. Stop it, all of you.

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WHUMP ARTISTS!

Share your Artfight on this post, and be sure to check out everyone’s profiles!

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Two fairy whumpees treating each other’s badly injured wings. Tiny, delicate fingers working as carefully as possible to avoid causing more pain. Making splints from blades of grass and tree sap. Carefully lining up the ragged edges of a tear to be put back together. Having to hide somewhere quiet and safe and shielded from the wind to be able to work. Tiny, involuntary movements that have to be worked around, with little whispered apologies in between. Idk man just lil fairy whumpees being there for each other 💕

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some good ol’ physical whump for today in the form of whipping! the unbearable sting as it comes down on whumpee’s back, the air of punishment, of being treated like a misbehaving farm animal at the mercy of a cruel handler. the open gashes that the whip leaves carved into their torso even weeks later, deep enough to leave visibly divoted scars cutting through that fragile flesh. the whip coming down right along the curve of their spine as whumpee is unable to hold in a scream of agony, knowing that even when the torture is over, the marks will never truly be gone.

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The other night husband and I were watching a documentary about the yeti where they were doing DNA analysis of samples of supposed yeti fur, and every one of them came back as bears.

Anyway, the next night we watched a thing about some pig man who is supposed to live in Vermont. People said it had claws and a pig nose but walked upright like a man. Now, I happen to know that sideshows used to shave bears and present them as pig men. So every piece of evidence they gave of this monster sounds to me like a bear with mange.

So now the running joke in our house is that everything is bears. Aliens? Bears. Loch Ness monster? Bear. Every cryptozoological mystery is just a very crafty bear.

Bears. They’re everywhere. Be wary. Anyone or anything could be a bear.

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(this is our Get Along chain)

Alternate title:

They Wouldn’t Finish Their Soup :(

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Okay rant but I hate cops so much that I almost don't want to go to my best friend's bridal shower because I know a cop is going to be here. This cop was literally in the news not that long ago because she was quite racist and cruel towards some teenagers. Literal children. Anyway. I have no idea how I'm going to be able to be civil in this. Fuck. I'm so upset. I helped plan this bridal shower. I am IN the fucking wedding party. And it's my best friend and I want so badly to be there for her and celebrate with her. It's not like I can just not show up. But this fucking cop just had to come and ruin it. If I'm this upset over it Now, who fucking knows how I'll be then. I don't want to party with cops. Ewwwwww