#( tumblr post the things i write challenge )

[lemonisntreal]

BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLI

[uwudonoodle]

Writeblr: "NoNoWriMo are sell outs. Let's cancel them!"

Me, who is brand new to writing, thinking it was just an activity people chose to do, much like making a New Year's Resolution: "It's an organization...? With like money and stuff???"

[sincerely-sofie]

WUH-OH! Art Game Alert!!!

Send a character from Cult of the Lamb + an emoji and I'll draw them in a modern AU and dressed for the occasion!

🌇 Street Wear / Casual

👸 Formal Wear

💍 Wedding

⛄ Cold Weather

⛱️ Hot Weather Clothes

💤 Lounge wear / Pajamas

💘 Date Night / Romantic Outing

🎂 Holiday (can specify which holiday / style of clothes specifically— Halloween costumes, ugly Christmas sweaters, etc!)

🌀 Outfit Swap (name two or more characters to swap the outfits of!)

😎 Asker’s Choice (can specify a certain style of clothes, like cottagecore or goth; send in a photo of a specific outfit; describe a specific situation for characters to dress for; etc!)

[moyazaika]

will you appear again before Christmas?🥲

YES HI!!!! WOWEE sorry for being away longer than i intended! estranged family member showed up on my front door after 18 yeARS of no contact?!?!? went to bali and lost my pasSPORT?!?!?! failed my driver's TEST!?!?!?!

#life

[sondermarzipan]

Reblog with your writing about 💕💖LOVE! 💖💕

Poetry, fiction, fanfic, whatever- lets get a creative chain going so we can find some new works to read! ((I'm new here and I want to find some writers to follow!))

Here is an excerpt from my (currently unpublished) piece, "Zombies (How to tell a man you love him)" Content note: It has some bloody imagery 95. To tell a man you love him is to risk cutting open his soul. It is open heart surgery where everything tastes of iron and fear. It is a caress with burning embers. It is to breathe in his heartbeat and to move in his words. It is to reopen the wounds and lap at the blood in a vampiric frenzy. Sitting with your scarred soul admiring his bloodied one, like a vulture circles the sweet scent of carrion. It is sick with decay and pleasure. It is a solemn observance that his pain in this has been and will always be greater than yours. 96. Sometimes, despite your usual banter, a compliment will slip from his lips. 97. Want to tell him again. 98. This is isn’t a zombie apocalypse love story.  99. This isn’t a love story 100. I love you

[lucky-clover-gazette]

reposted chapter one of my original wip in first person pov! it's very zelda inspired and pretty fun, even though it's a first draft :)

I stare down at my phone, eyes wide. There is no normal explanation for this situation. Truly, none. My phone shattered and the hero died. Then, only seconds later, my phone is fixed and the hero’s body is gone. Is this the old, dead magic my wiki friends discuss, each of their speculations wilder than the last? I’ve always thought it was pointless—it’s gone, we all know it’s gone! But everyone also ‘knows’ that Lacertortoises are extinct and the world’s most legendary hero is missing, so screw knowing, I guess. Because I know, for a fact, that Lacertortoises are not extinct, and I’m also pretty sure that said legendary hero’s soul has just possessed my smartphone.  STOP STANDINF THERE SRTUPID GO GO GO GO And honestly? She kind of sucks. 

[gentil-minou]

sharing my wangxian phlebotomist!wwx/blood donor!lwj au from twitter here (a summary here if you wanna see)

--

The hardest part of the adoption process was supposed to be endless paperwork and screenings and the anxiety of not being good enough to meet high standards of the court.

It wasn't supposed to be A-Yuan's first doctors appointment.

His pitiful screams fill the small doctor's office. He's clinging to Lan Wangji's shoulders like there a lifeline, hiding and all LWJ wants to do is bundle up his son and carry him back to safety.

But these are mandatory vaccines he needs in order to attend pre-k. So he cant.

Nurse: Shots are never fun at this age, huh He would beg to differ; they're never fun at any age But see lwj isnt afraid of the shots themselves. Hes terrified of the sight of blood. His BFF loves horror movies & he watches them with her bravely by staring at the corner of the tv

When lwj gets his blood drawn, he looks closes his eyes and imagines being in a cold pond somewhere. But he's never been afraid of just the shot before.

He's helpless in the face of his son's distress. The nurse sighs, saying theyll have to try again another day.

A-Yuan sniffles into his baba's shirt, exhausted from the crying fit. His eyes are still watery and he looks around the room with such fear in his eyes, before withdrawing back into the safety of his baba's chest.

Lan Wangji has no idea what to do, only cradles him closer

Thankfully, LWJ has someone who can help. His best friend, Jiang Yanli is a child therapist and has been helping him prepare his home for A-Yuan.

If anyone knows what to do, it's Yanli-jie

JYL: Zhanzhan, have you tried showing him its not scary?

LWJ has not, bc he's terrified

JYL is the only one allowed to call him Zhanzhan. In Uni she was the one who mentored him his first week of school. Someone slipped him alcohol and he got deliriously drunk.

Yanli-jie was the one who found him and took him home. This is what they told the cohort but actually…

JYL: seeing his Baba get a shot and be okay might motivate him to be more brave

LWJ certainly doesn't feel brave. He's thinking of the blood flowing from his veins and then LEAVING them to go who knows where. It sounds barbaric

He has the distinct memory of learning what a period is in middle school and promptly passing out

He is not a fan of anything related to blood

But LWJ has learned that Yanli-jie knows what she's doing, so, despite the way he can swear he feels his blood pumping with fear, he agrees...but there's a problem.

LWJ: I am up to date on all my shots. How can I show him it is safe?

JYL: Hmm....I have an idea. My brother is a phlebotomist! He can help.

LWJ is confused. Last he heard, the younger Jiang is a prosecutor who makes a living viciously yelling in a courtroom.

JYL: Not him, Zhanzhan. My adoptive brother, A-Xian. I bet he would be happy to help you. He works at the blood bank at Yiling Clinic! The perfect exposure!

For who?, LWJ wonders. A blood bank sounds like a house of horrors to him. And a person who chooses to stick a needle in people and remove the very force that gives them life? He cannot imagine getting along with this person at all.

--

Yiling Clinic is a community clinic in a part of town Lan Wangji has never been to, especially since the Gusu Group has their own private hospital.

But this is where Yanli-jie's phlebotomist little brother works.

A-Yuan clings to the back of his legs as they approach the receptionist, a young man with amazing cat eye makeup named Mo Xuanyu

These two definitely do not fit the bill for their usual patients, with their designer clothing, so he asks with some skepticism: Um, can I help you?

LWJ has spent the last two hours siking himself up for the blood part, he isn't prepared at all for social interactions. He flounders like a fish.

LWJ: …I am…We are here for…

A shout comes from behind them: Ah! A-Yu, is that A-jie's friend? Zhanzhan?

LWJ flinches until he sees a man sprinting towards them. The 1st thing he notices is this man is wearing lilac scrubs with little white rabbits on them.

The 2nd thing he notices is this man has the most enchanting smile he's ever seen. Already, LWJ feels more relaxed.

The man winks at him: You like the scrubs? A-jie said A-Yuan liked bunnies, I figured this would help keep him calm.

LWJ does not blurt I like bunnies too. But only just.

Beside the man is a pediatric nurse named Wen Ning, no relation, who says he's here to help with A-Yuan

Yanli-jie's little brother, the phlebotomist, introduces himself: Ah! Sorry, Lan Zhan. Jiejie always calls you that so it just stuck. I'm Wei Wuxian. You can call me Wei Ying if you wanna make it even.

Strangely, LWJ feels no need to correct him: Lan Zhan is fine, Wei Ying.

WWX smiles so brightly, LWJ feels dizzy with it.

WWX: Now where's the little bunny himself?

A-Yuan has been clinging behind LWJ's pant leg, tilting around just enough to peek with one eye at this strange gege.

WWX: Maybe not a rabbit then, a radish who likes to hide away!

A-Yuan becomes offended: I don't like radishes!

WWX laughs: Me neither! But Qing-jie says they help us grow big and strong, so they can't be all that bad huh?

WWX is crouched in front of A-Yuan, draping both arms across his knees and resting his chin in one hand. He waits.

LWJ admires his patience. The longer WWX waits, crouched and rocking back and forth in front of A-Yuan, smile gently and welcoming, the more A-Yuan's natural curiosity gets the better of him.

Eventually, his son comes out from behind his leg to touch a black bunny on his sleeve

A-Yuan: I like this one. We only have a white bunny at home.

WWX: I like the black bunny too! What's your bunny's name?

A-Yuan: Banana, bc she tries to eat Baba's banana every morning, and you are what you eat.

He recites this with all the solemnity a 4 yo could possess

WWX's laughter echoes through the lobby: Well! You're very right, A-Yuan. Maybe you aren't a radish after all then. Tell me, what do little boys eat?

A-Yuan: I'm not little! I'm 4 and a half!

WWX: Right, right, I sincerely apologize for my mistake. What do big boys eat then?

A-Yuan purses his lips and taps his chin, pondering his question carefully: Hmm… jelly beans?

WWX looks like he wants to laugh more, but instead says: I see, I see. Thank you for your wisdom A-Yuan.

He looks up at LWJ, dark eyes dancing. LWJ's heart rabbits against his chest

WWX: If your baba is ready, we can head down to my cave if you'd like. I have a lot of cool machines I'd love to show you.

A-Yuan's eyes widen into saucers as he gasps: A cave? Wowww

They grin conspiratorially at each other, before turning bright eyes up at LWJ

LWJ feels warm and much more relaxed inside, so he nods: Mn. We may go.

A-Yuan cheers and holds WWX's hand as the head downstairs.

LWJ trails behind making small talk with WN, watching WWX and A-Yuan swing their hands and skip ahead, feeling something warm blossom in his chest.

The hallway to Wei Wuxian's lab isn't anything like Lan Wangji expects.

The rooms at Gusu are all perfectly pristine and sterile, painted white to promote serenity, rest, and healing.

For one thing, he'd raided a Halloween store at some point and hung up all sorts of decorations, mostly vampire themed. There's one that's says "I vant to suck your blood!" except suck is crossed out and replaced with "donate". Wwx and A-yuan giggle together at wwx's fake accent

It's definitely not up to Gusu General's strict standards. For one thing, there're beanbag chairs in the hall outside. Wwx says it's to feel more comfy while others wait, as he's the only phlebotomist on staff and it can take a while. A-Yuan personally tests each one.

His lab is…adequate if far too small. There's a desk that's overrun with stacks of papers and textbooks and a shelf that's filled with even more. The actual space where blood is drawn is, thankfully, sterile and clean. Though he's decorated with demons demanding blood for food

There's a temp controlled room where the blood is stored, with a red door and the words "Blood Pool" written in menacing barely legible font

Despite the…interesting decor, the room is homely and, surprisingly, welcoming. A-Yuan at least is having a very fun time getting a tour

Wwx patiently answers all of A-Yuan’s questions, even the endless why's, with utmost sincerity, even when his answers are purely nonsense.

Lwj can't stop the fond smile from lifting the corner of his lips. A-Yuan had never warmed up to a medical professional so fast.

He's pulled from his musings when A-Yuan grabs his sleeve: Baba! Blood-gege says this machine makes blood spin around!

Wwx burst out laughing: Blood-gege? I love it!

Lwj is enchanted, head repeating those last 3 words again and again as wwx fondly ruffles A-Yuan's fluffy hair

Wwx: alright, now that you're familiar with my beauty Chenqing (referring to his bloody spinny machine lwj does not want to think about), shall we get down to business?

He says this with his bright dark eyes glittering at LWJ. Right. The blood donating part.

Lwj gulps, nodding. A prisoner walking up to the gallows.

TBC

(If you're interested, I'm probably going to continue at least up to the end of the first part before i just make it into one long fic! You can follow it on my twitter!)

[distortedmoondisc]

(Reposting a small informal essay I wrote about this specific line of Vermilion back in july that got lost in my blog. Adding screenshots of my reblogs, which prompted me to write all of this, for context).

Hiiro, who was raised to devote his whole existence to one person and that all his value as an individual is tied to the successful filling of that role. And then someone, the voice of the song—probably Hiiro himself, since he's the one singing this specific line—telling him that "there's meaning you'll never grasp" living as his own, independent person....

And that's just.... I don't know. It feels just so melancholic, for some reason. A sort of existential melancholy. It's reminiscent as to when we're told that we'll probably never discover all the secrets of the ocean or all the secrets about outer space, that we'll never understand 100% a specific topic or matter of study because there's so much information about it, it isn't humanly possible to process it all in a single lifetime. "There is meaning you'll never be able to grasp, there are things you'll never be able to learn or to understand." And that just feels so unfair and distressing, for some reason.

So that makes me think about how the lyrics are implying that Hiiro—despite enjoying his new-found freedom of being Hiiro Amagi, the Leader of Alkaloid, and not Hiiro Amagi, servant of the monarch—he might never be able to fully understand or to enjoy the meaning of his new existence ("there's meaning you'll never be able to grasp"). Hiiro grew up thinking that the rules of his hometown are universal truths and that he must uphold them above everything else—so if the rules tell him that he must dedicate his whole life to serve his brother and that he doesn't have any value outside of that, who is he to deny it? Who is he to fight it? Who is he to interrupt the social norm and the peace of his society? He says it himself in the main story: rules are meant to keep the peace of the community, and peace can only be achieved if everyone does their part without complaining.

So Hiiro already had the meaning of his existence, up to that point, and he didn't need anything else. He was Rinne's servant, he was a member of his hometown, and he was given a mission: to bring his brother, the Monarch, back home to take the throne. It was very clear and simple — but then he met Alkaloid, and all of the idols of ES. He was exposed to the city, to the outside world, to countless different ways of thinking and ways of life. The MDM happened (including Rinne disowning him), and the meaning of his existence was broken. Hiiro is now free, but he's left without any guidance or absolute truths he can rely on a world so grand and contradicting that he can't even comprehend it, and that realistically, he never will.

So what can he do, with a problem of this scope?

What do you do, when all you thought was an absolute truth, actually is not? (and that in fact, absolute truths might not even exist to begin with?) When all the things you learned, the rights and the wrongs, differ from place to place, and from person to person? When you have been left to your own devices to figure out this new world you've been thrown into, that is so contradicting and confusing, all by yourself?

Is this the burden you have to carry, the price you have to pay, to be an independent, autonomous person? (Is this a process Rinne, his brother, also had to go through?)

But then, Mayoi's lyrics in come up, "With the suit of your soul—" and then the rest of Alkaloid sing together—"Persist in your belief."

And this is the part of the song where the existential melancholy gets turned upside down. Yes, Hiiro might never be able to fully grasp the meaning of this new life. Yes, he might never be able to fully understand the new world he's been thrown into, and he will have to struggle trying to navigate it on his own—but the lyrics are pushing him to keep moving forward despite of that. "With the new life you have been given, persist in your beliefs" it's an encouragement, a comforting line. It's Alkaloid (Tatsumi, Mayoi, and Aira) telling him that despite the world being confusing and contradicting and so so vast with multiple wrong and right answers—the best thing Hiiro can do is to be true to himself; to keep tackling adversity and life head on, to try to learn and to understand it as best as he can, and draw his own logical conclusions about it—not conclusions and answers given to him arbitrarily by someone else. And most importantly: that he isn't alone, that he has a group of people that will accompany him along the way, with varying degrees of knowledge about the world, that will complement and support him on his own journey.

And only then, Hiiro will live an autonomous life—and there will be meaning he will never be able to grasp, but that's okay. He isn't meant to, and that's fine.

[hosseinis]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Justified Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Raylan Givens & Tim Gutterson, Raylan Givens/Tim Gutterson Characters: Raylan Givens, Tim Gutterson Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Shooting Guns, Character Study, Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD Series: Part 5 of shirelings’ febuwhump ‘24 Summary:

Raylan's never thought of being anything else but a man with a gun. Tim agrees.

[pandora15]

really want to write an angstpril prompt for today but I'm so drained and have a lot to do for tomorrow :/

maybe I'll try tomorrow if I have time?

[villainsidestep]

north says your brothers are dead.

north says your brothers are dead, but he has to be a liar, because he has always been a liar. because he has always been a bastard. because the numbers mean you can't check his thoughts for lies. because he has to be lying. because the alternative is that your brothers left you. because the alternative is that you left them. left them lying on the sidewalk in an open grave of shattered glass and broken concrete and all those dead bodies and all that blood, there was so much blood, why can you not stop thinking of the blood?! of their hands reaching out for yours amongst the ruin, amidst the fall, along your spine when you uselessly throw yourself at north's thoughts again?

north's thoughts make you feel sick. make you feel staticky. make you clench your teeth and fists and stomach as you feel the nerves creep in, the dreading fear of something being wrong, the persistent terror of needing to stop, needing to keep going, needing to reach just a little bit deeper, needing to find purchase somewhere, anywhere, anything, anything about them, because they couldn't just leave you! they wouldn't leave you! you're supposed to stick together! you've always stuck together!

north says your brothers are dead. you wish you'd died with them.

[hcdragonwrites]

When I get home today I think I will also translate what I’ve written over to Ao3- ONCE I ASK FOR PERMISSION

I saw a post a few days ago of a very good author on here who’s blog got reported and they almost lost all their writing — like that terrifies me not because of the ban but because all those beautiful words would be lost and no one could read them anymore. I i just have to ask all the people I’ve wrote for so far if it’s ok to post their gifts on my ao3 that’s so dusty and old. I would rather have it be available if anything terrible like that occurred for the public but I have to ask because. Well. It’s for them- and for the people that enjoy the artwork and AUs all these artists lovingly craft. But it’s time for me to get to work so I’ll see what and when I get off

[quietmarie]

What is Async Anyway?

Explaining async/await and general concurrency concepts in programming languages.

A lot of modern languages have async/await syntax built directly into them, and the construct can be extremely useful. Examples of languages that include these concepts are JavaScript, C#, Python, and Swift, and even modern relatively low-level languages like Rust have this syntax. Even though it's usually thought of as a more advanced feature, I think it is really not that hard to use once you get the hang of it, and it is super useful and rewarding when you really understand it.

This is going to be a bit of a long and pretty technical post, but I hope it can give you some confidence to know what async/await really does when you use it, and maybe it can help you use it more effectively. Keep in mind that I will not be able to go over everything in super deep detail, and that I am going to simplify stuff, but it should give you an idea how these systems work.

I am a little curious about eventually following this up with a post looking at how these systems compare under the hood in different programming languages, so let me know if you'd be interested in that.

Big post under the cut.

Parallelism and Concurrency

Computers today can do many things at the same time. And I mean that literally: in one instant, a modern CPU can be working on multiple instructions. That's because a single CPU has multiple cores that can all execute code (mostly) independent from each other. This is called parallelism, and the way we as programmers interact with that is through threads. Most programming languages, especially "lower level" ones, have a way for programmers to create a thread that will run some part of your code. Creating a thread is telling the computer that it can, and should, run the code in your threads in parallel (although various systems such as the OS still have discretion over when and if that actually happens).

Parallelism is not quite concurrency tho. Where parallelism is about your computer literally doing multiple things at once, concurrency is about your computer doing multiple things, but not at once. With concurrency, you kind of pretend you're doing a parallelism. But in reality, stuff doesn't happen at the same time. Instead, your system (runtime) does some work on task A a bit, then on task B, then maybe again on task A, etc., but doesn't work on the two at the same time. So, in a concurrent system it might look like task A and B are progressing simultaneously from the outside, but work actually only happens in sequence.

Let's Talk About I/O

I/O stands for input/output and describes data in your program that comes from elsewhere, or that gets sent elsewhere. So for example, user input is I/O. And similarly, a web request can be I/O, whether you send it or receive it. So let's use that as an example: you send a web request to some API to fetch you the cutest bunny images and facts:

But the service is taking its sweet time to respond.

Fact: Loading bunny fact…

With how we did it here, we halt execution of the entire thread until the response comes in (at least in most languages, more on that later). In this case, we call get a blocking method because it, well, blocks the thread without actively doing useful work.

What if we could instead use the thread for other tasks instead of just sitting there, twiddling our thumbs and waiting on the server? This smells of concurrency…

Callbacks

Callbacks are a way for programmers to avoid that period of thumb twiddling. The new getWithCallback function now returns immediately, but it doesn't return a value. Instead, we have to register the code we want to run once the server responds with the function:

The function we pass to getWithCallback is called the callback, and it gets called by the client* only once the response arrives. Oh look, here it is:

Fact: A rabbit's life span is about 8 years, though sterilized rabbits (those who are spayed/neutered) can live as long as 10-12 years.

*"The client calls it" is a big simplification, there might be a lot more stuff happening here. But the important bit is that the client magically does not need to block to wait for the response.

Promises and Futures

What JavaScript calls Promises and what a lot of the other languages call Futures is essentially sugar sprinkled on callbacks - it makes our callback code a little nicer. Callbacks can commonly create a concept called "callback hell", where you have to call a function that takes a callback inside the function that takes a callback inside the function that takes a callback…

(Code modified from https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web/JavaScript/Guide/Using_promises)

To avoid this, functions now can return a Promise instead of taking a callback. Promises represent the promise that, while a concrete value might not exist right now, it will in the future. Once the value exists, we say the Promise resolves. The code above with Promises would then look like this:

It still doesn't look perfect, and there are things you can do to make it look a little nicer, but it's so much less nested. The callback in the then function will be called once the value is ready, and the callback itself can also return a Promise. The then function then returns a Promise which will get resolved once the future from the callback is resolved. Many other languages have a concept similar to JavaScript's Promise, and it's often called something like Future or Task (because it would be too easy to have consistent naming across languages).

Now keep in mind neither of those solutions above are really "concurrency" in the definition we used above. This is because the thread we call, for example, getWithCallback on still completely belongs to us. We could keep using it, and we would not get interrupted to execute the callback. Depending on the language and runtime, the callback might get executed on a different thread, or the runtime might have to wait until we are completely done with what we were doing to then use our thread to call it. The same thing goes for the callbacks in the then method of promises.

Async/Await

And async/await is just some sugar and magic fairy dust on top of Promises (or Futures or whatever). It makes our code look like it should be blocking, but in reality it isn't. Here's what our bunny image code looks like with async/await:

So here, a couple things happen. First, the Promise is created and the web request is initiated. Then, the Promise is awaited. For that, (if the Promise is not resolved at this point already,) the task first yields, meaning it tells the runtime that it is not doing any useful work at the moment, and that the thread it ran on can be used for other tasks. The runtime then makes a note of where to continue execution when that Promise resolves, and looks around for other tasks that currently need executing to put them on that thread. After a while passes, the Promise resolves, and once the runtime has some resources available for us (maybe because another task just yielded), execution on our original task is continued with the API response.

Fact: A rabbit's teeth never stop growing! Many people believe they need to chew to keep their teeth short. While they do enjoy chewing, it's the normal wear from where their top and bottom teeth meet that keeps a rabbit's teeth short.

This is more in line with the concurrency we sought out above. We can interleave other computations while our task is still running, but during times where it is not doing any useful work. (Still, because you may have multiple threads your tasks can run on and move between, it might not always be 100% technically accurate to call this system concurrent.) This is also why it is important to not block for long in async contexts: if you're hogging the thread for too long, you're stopping other tasks from progressing and throwing a lot of the benefits you gained from doing it concurrently in the bin. Most async runtimes will give you some option to run expensive or blocking code elsewhere, so that you can keep the benefits you gain from async.

So that's the explanation what async/await does, and the broad strokes of how it works. If you have any more questions regarding the topic, feel free to ask! I think it'll be fun to occasionally write a longer post on interesting things I've learned, so if you have topic suggestions, don't be afraid to tell me!

Further links and sources

Don't Block The Event Loop! - Why you should avoid blocking in Node.js, and what pitfalls to look out for.

I got the bnuuy images and facts from the animality API. The licenses on the images are not super clear, but I'll assume it's okay for me to use them here with credit because it's an open API.

I lifted the definitions and some of the explanation for parallelism and concurrency from Steve Klabnik's talk on Rust's Journey to Async/Await. The talk is more technical and very focused on Rust, but it's a great talk.

I referenced the mdn web docs at various points, they're a great resource.

I created the code screenshots using the carbon app.

[icewindandboringhorror]

golf

[whumpuary]

Whumpuary 2025!

(edit in case anyone actually reads this, i messed up and put "i'm fine" in twice for day 25 and alt prompt, so either ignore that or you can use "do it" as an additional alt prompt)

these prompts came together through community submissions and then a voting form where people voted for their favorites, here are the top 53 prompts

i want to try a slightly new format where there are still only 15 days for creation prompts but with additional community prompts/questions. those are entirely voluntary but are here to possibly inspire some community interaction and trying new things

i'm excited to see some awesome creations in january!

go here for info/rules/tagging go here for faqs

(note: number 31 is not a creation prompt and therefore not required to complete the challenge, it's just colored black so the colors add up)

text version of the prompts and rules is under the cut

(image description note: there are 31 numbered prompts, on each odd number the text color is black and on even numbers the text color is white)

Whumpuary 2025

a whump-themed multi media creation event for january

create for at least one prompt from each odd/black number to complete the challenge community prompts (even/white) numbers are voluntary

main prompts

1. sacrifice | headache | "this will hurt" 2. how did you find the whump community? 3. choice | storm | black eye 4. what are your favorite whump tropes? 5. "do you trust me" | manhandled | chills 6. share your favorite whump creations (others or yours!) 7. unfair fight | insomnia | "no one is coming" 8. what media genre do you like whump in? 9. trapped under rubble | gunpoint | out of time 10. write your own whump prompt 11. "i didn't ask for this" | blood | abandoned 12. create something in a new/less familiar medium 13. close call | sleep | choking 14. what's your favorite character dynamic? 15. handcuffed | dead | "please, stop" 16. leave a comment on a whump fic/art/creation 17. drugged | "i'm glad you're alive" | revenge 18. favorite whump medium? (movie, book, art, ...) 19. "let them go" | overworked | head injury 20. send a nice message to someone in the community 21. bruises | "who are you?" | immortality 22. take 10 minutes to work on a wip 23. backhand slap | alone | "i can't do this anymore" 24. what do you take inspiration in? 25. "i'm fine" | missing | drowsiness 26. draw/doodle something whumpy 27. stuck in a loop | twisting the knife | rescue 28. find a creator in the #whumpuary tag and send them an ask 29. kidnapped | "don't leave me" | devotion 30. make a whump meme 31. say something nice about your own work

alt prompts

hiding impaled "i'm fine" rain betrayal hair pulling darkness falling (added later, not in the image: "do it")

rules & info

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[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

still overwhelmed, still can't believe this this is getting to much attention 😭 ❤️🫶 THANK YOU FOR YOUR FEEDBACK AND YOUR RESPONSES I LOVE EVERY BIT OF IT

also why are my WORDS LIMITED???? I want to write MORE wtf tumblr

word count: 3.7k with some extras in the form of social media posts warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: after things cooled down for a little while, you have to face lando and your feelings once again... this time with consequences.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop

PART FOUR/2 previous part - next part

The sun dips low over the sky, painting it in shades of amber and rose as you finish getting ready. You’ve been pacing your hotel room for the last twenty minutes, debating whether you should even go to this dinner. Max made it sound casual, just friends and some of Lando’s crew, but the way your stomach twists tells you it’s anything but simple.

Since Monaco, things with Lando have been... complicated. He stayed over after Qualifying, the two of you wrapped in an unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. But nothing about the way he looked at you, the way his presence filled your space, felt friendly. Then there was the race—his P4 finish—and the small get-together afterward, where you both acted like nothing had happened. Since then, his schedule’s relentless pace kept you apart, exchanging only a few texts that danced around anything real. Just keeping in touch.

And now, this dinner.

You change into your favorite outfit, something understated but flattering, and force yourself to take a deep breath. It’s just a dinner. You’re friends, you tell yourself.

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The restaurant hums with life as you step inside, trailing Max and Pietra. Warm light glints off polished wood and delicate glassware, and the buzz of conversation wraps around you like a soft blanket. You glance at the private room Max mentioned earlier, feeling your pulse quicken. You know who’s waiting there.

When you walk in, the first person you see is him. He’s tipped back in his chair at the head of the table, laughing at something someone said, his grin so easy and familiar it makes your chest ache. Then his eyes land on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seems to blur.

“About time,” he says, standing up in one smooth motion. His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that sends a spark down your spine. He greets Max with an effortless handshake-hug, Pietra with a peck on the cheek, and then his attention falls to you.

“Stranger,” he says. “Lando,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you raise an eyebrow. His grin tilts, just a little lopsided, and the look in his eyes feels like a challenge.

The dinner is exactly what you expected—good food, great wine, and laughter that fills the space like it’s been waiting for all of you to show up. Max, seated on your right, is in big-brother mode, making sure you try everything and nudging your glass whenever it’s even close to empty. Across from you, Pietra chats animatedly with one of Lando’s friends, and you smile along, but your attention keeps drifting. Lando is at the far end of the table, surrounded by people who hang onto his every word. He’s effortlessly charismatic, telling some story you can’t quite hear, but that has everyone laughing. Except every now and then, his eyes meet yours, just for a second. It’s like he’s checking in, or maybe daring you to look away first.

You don’t.

When he gets up to refill his drink, he passes behind you, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder. The touch is so brief, so casual, that no one else notices. But it sends a shiver through you anyway. “Having fun?” he murmurs, his voice low and private, meant just for you. “Loads,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as heat rises to your cheeks.

His chuckle is soft, almost affectionate, before he moves away. You tell yourself to focus, to ignore the way your heart is beating just a little too fast.

Later, the table splits into smaller conversations, and somehow, Lando ends up next to you. Max is too busy laughing at something Pietra said to notice when Lando leans in, his shoulder brushing yours. “This is torture,” he says under his breath, his knee knocking lightly against yours under the table. Your throat goes dry. “What is?” “You. Wearing this dress.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you hold your breath.

You don’t know how to respond, and for a moment, you just sit there, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then Max glances over, and Lando straightens, all easy charm again. “What are you two whispering about?” Max asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Lando doesn’t miss a beat. “Just telling your sister she has terrible taste in wine.”

“Hey!” you protest, and the table laughs. Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He drinks that sparkling stuff like it’s water.” The conversation moves on, and you pretend everything is normal, even as Lando’s knee stays pressed against yours under the table. And you don’t move away.

As the laughter around the table flows easily, your own chuckle gets caught in your throat when Lando leans back in his chair, stretching casually, but you don’t miss the way his knee once again brushes against yours under the table. It’s subtle, almost as if he’s testing to see how long he can get away with it without anyone noticing. Your pulse quickens, and you do your best to focus on Pietra, who’s telling an animated story about a mishap at her last work event.

But Lando is… distracting. His words replay in your head on an endless loop—”this is torture”—and you swear you can still feel the ghost of his knee against yours under the table. It’s maddening, really. The ease with which he teases you under Max’s nose, how effortlessly he switches back to joking with the group like he didn’t just upend your entire sense of composure.

You glance his way and catch him smirking, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His focus shifts back to his drink, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—playful yet deliberate—that makes it impossible to ignore him. You try to shake it off. You tell yourself that it’s just Lando being Lando: cheeky, teasing, good at making people feel... something. Just like always. Except this doesn’t feel like always, and that’s the problem. You’re trying to focus on the ongoing conversation. Something about summer plans, maybe? You’re not even sure anymore. Lando is leaning back in his chair again now, one arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, looking every bit like someone who hasn’t a care in the world. But he keeps glancing at you when he thinks no one else will notice.

“Alright,” Max announces suddenly, clapping his hands together as if he’s about to make a grand proclamation. “Drinks back at mine?” There’s a chorus of agreement around the table as chairs start scraping against the floor and people gather their things. You hesitate, glancing at your phone like you might have an excuse to slip away. But before you can concoct some half-hearted reason to head back to the hotel, Pietra loops an arm through yours, effectively trapping you. “You’re coming, right?” although she forms it as a question, you know it’s really not.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out,” you reply lightly, smiling at Pietra. Who, satisfied with your response, let’s go of you to join Max again. Your stomach twists again when you see Lando standing by the door, your coat in his hands, waiting like he has all the time in the world. His curls are a little messy, his grin lazy, yet sharp as his eyes meet yours in the dim light. It’s as if he can sense your hesitation and is daring you to pull away. “Come on, stranger,” he says softly, leaning just close enough that his voice feels like it’s wrapping around you. “Can’t bail now.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the way your heart jumps at the way he towers ever so slightly over you. “I didn’t say I was bailing.” “No?” His gaze drops briefly to your phone in your hand, then flicks back up to catch yours. “Good,” he says, his voice dipping lower, quieter. “Because I wasn’t going to let you.”

It’s infuriating how easily he gets under your skin. With a huff of mock-annoyance—because genuine annoyance is impossible when he’s looking at you like that—you slide your arms into the coat he’s still holding and step away before the spark between you burns any brighter.

The group spills out into the cool night air, laughter echoing down the cobblestone street as everyone makes their way toward Max’s flat. Pietra loops her arm through yours again, chatting about some new café she wants to try tomorrow for breakfast. The walk to Max’s place is short, but it feels like an eternity with Lando so close behind you in the group. Every step feels charged, like there’s an invisible string stretched taut between the two of you. You try not to think about what he said earlier—or how his knee pressed against yours, or how warm his hand had been on your shoulder at dinner—but it’s useless. He’s inescapable, even when he isn’t touching you.

When you finally reach Max's apartment, everyone else appears calm and carefree. However, you have come to the realization that you can no longer let Lando do this to you. You don’t know if he isn’t aware of the drama it would cause if Max found out or if he just doesn’t care about the consequences—you however do care about the consequences. While never openly spoken about, you know how your brother would feel about this. He’d hate it. Lando is his best friend and you are his little sister. Two things that, frankly, shouldn’t mingle so close. So you make the decision to talk to Lando tonight.

It’s not like you don’t care or that you don’t feel things when you’re around him, but is acting on it really worth the pain it could and would cause?

Eventually everyone is spread across the living room, laughing and reminiscing, the buzz of good drinks and great music keeping the energy alive. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, balancing your drink as Pietra chats animatedly beside you. Across the room, Lando lounges in a chair, looking infuriatingly relaxed, his attention shifting to you every few minutes. It’s subtle, the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, but you feel it—like a spark skittering across your skin. You pretend not to notice, focusing on Pietra's story about her disastrous attempt at paddleboarding last summer. But when Lando catches your eye mid-sentence, raising his brow in a silent tease, your stomach flips.

Max comes in from the kitchen, holding a fresh beer, his presence immediately commanding attention. “Alright, whose idea was it to leave me in charge of snacks?” he announces. “I could barely find some crisps, let alone figure out this sweets situation.”

Pietra groans. “Max, it’s literally all in the cupboard. You just have to put it in some bowls.”

“But that’s where you put them!” Max protests, plopping down beside Pietra. His knee bumps yours, but his focus is on his girlfriend, who shakes her head fondly. Lando seizes the moment to move closer, taking the newly vacated spot on the couch next to you. “You okay there?” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. “Perfectly fine,” you shoot back, matching his tone with a pointed glare. But your attempt at indifference falters when his knee brushes yours—deliberately, you’re sure. “You’re really gonna keep your distance tonight, are you?” he asks, his voice light but carrying that edge of challenge that makes your heart race. “I am sitting next to you,” you counter, swirling your drink for effect. “You’re just mad I’m busy talking to everyone else tonight.” He chuckles softly, the sound brushing against your skin like velvet. “Give it time.”

Before you can respond, Max’s voice cuts through the room. “What are you two whispering about now?” His tone is joking, but there’s a hint of suspicion there that makes you stiffen. “Just telling your sister she needs to get some updated LN4 merch for the weekend,” Lando says smoothly, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Excuse me?” you retort, feigning outrage. “That stuff is expensive, genius.” The group erupts into laughter, and Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Of course, it is. You should stick to the Quadrant merch anyhow.”

"Hey now," Lando protests with a grin, "I'm hurt, Max. Thought we were friends." The conversation shifts, but you can't shake the tension thrumming beneath your skin. Lando's presence beside you is electric, and you're acutely aware of every subtle movement he makes. You try to focus on the others, laughing at the right moments and nodding along, but your mind keeps drifting back to the man next to you. While Lando's quick thinking may have diffused the situation, it only reinforces your resolve to talk to him. You need to set things straight before they spiral out of control.

As the night wears on, you find yourself growing more and more restless. You've been careful to mingle with everyone, pointedly avoiding extended conversations with Lando. But his presence is a constant, hovering at the edge of your awareness. You catch his eye across the room more than once, and each time, that familiar spark ignites in your chest.

Finally, as the party begins to wind down, you see your chance. Lando slips out onto the balcony, and after a moment's hesitation, you follow. The cool night air is a relief after the warmth of the apartment, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting it wash over you. "Thought you might follow me out here," Lando says softly, not turning around. He's leaning against the railing, his profile illuminated by the city lights below. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Lando, we need to talk."

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "I was wondering when you'd say that," he says softly, a hint of resignation in his voice. You step closer, careful to keep some distance between you. The city sprawls below, a tapestry of twinkling lights and distant sounds, but your focus narrows to the man in front of you. The air feels thick with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"This... whatever this is," you begin, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, "it needs to stop." Lando's brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schools his expression. "What exactly are you referring to?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "The touches. The looks. The... the way you've been pushing boundaries tonight. It's not fair, Lando." Your words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's jaw clenches, a muscle twitching as he processes what you've said. For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below and the muffled laughter from inside.

"Not fair?" Lando repeats, his voice low but charged with emotion. "What's not fair is pretending there's nothing between us." He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "Do you really want to ignore this? To act like we don't feel anything when we're around each other?" You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his proximity. "Lando, it's not that simple. Max is your best friend, and he's my brother. We can't just—"

"Can't what?" he interrupts, his voice rising slightly. "Can't be honest about how we feel? Can't take a chance on something that could be amazing?"—"Shh!" you hiss, glancing nervously at the sliding glass door. "Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear?" Lando runs a hand through his curls, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Maybe I do," he says, though he lowers his voice. "Maybe I'm tired of sneaking around, of pretending I don't want to be near you every second we're in the same room."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to maintain your composure. "It's not just about us," you argue, your voice rising slightly. "What about Max? He's your best friend, Lando. How do you think he'd react?" Lando's eyes flash with a mix of frustration and determination. "I care about Max, you know I do. But I'm not going to let fear of his reaction dictate my life. Or my feelings." You glance nervously towards the sliding glass door, worried that your raised voices might carry inside. The last thing you need is for someone to come investigate. "Please, keep your voice down," you hiss, even as your own emotions threaten to overwhelm you. "No," Lando says, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'm tired of keeping quiet about this. About us." He takes another step closer, close enough that you can smell his cologne, a mixture of citrus and something woody that makes your head spin. His proximity is intoxicating, and you find yourself swaying towards him almost unconsciously.

"Lando," you breathe, your resolve weakening with every passing second. The city lights dance in his eyes, casting shadows across his face that only enhance his features. You can see the determination there, the longing, and it mirrors the ache in your own chest. But he's not listening. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and intense in the city lights. "I can't keep pretending," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Can you?" And before you can answer, before you can even think, he closes the distance between you.

His lips crash against yours, urgent and desperate. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, caught between shock and desire. Then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands find their way to his curls, fingers tangling in the soft strands as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The world narrows to this moment—the taste of him, the warmth of his body, the way your heart threatens to burst from your chest.

It's everything you've been trying to deny, everything you've been afraid to want, distilled into a single, burning instant.

But reality crashes back in like a bucket of ice water, and you jerk away, your eyes wide with panic, breathing hard, your lips tingling and your mind reeling. "We can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Lando, we can't do this." Even as every fiber of your being screams to pull him close again. Lando's eyes are wide, his chest heaving as he stares at you, looking as stunned as you feel.

Before he can respond, the sound of the balcony door sliding open makes you both freeze. You take a hasty step back, your heart pounding so loudly you're sure everyone can hear it. Max steps out onto the balcony, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. You and Lando are standing suspiciously close, both of you looking flushed and slightly disheveled. The air between you crackles with tension, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below.

"What's going on out here?" Max asks, his tone light but laced with suspicion. His gaze flicks between you and Lando, searching for answers in your expressions. Lando, ever quick on his feet, lets out a low whistle and gestures broadly at the cityscape. "Just admiring the view, mate," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "Can't beat a night like this, can you?" You nod enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "It's gorgeous," you agree, willing your racing heart to slow. "I was just telling Lando how I could stay out here all night."

Max leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The look he gives you is one you've known since childhood—the one that says he's not quite buying what you're selling. "Really?" he drawls. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like you two were having a pretty intense conversation."

You feel your face flush as Max's gaze bores into you, his expression a mixture of concern and growing suspicion. The air on the balcony suddenly feels thick, charged with an uncomfortable tension that even the cool night breeze can't dispel. The city lights twinkle innocently behind you, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. Lando shifts beside you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, a reminder of what just transpired.

"Max," Lando starts, his voice steady despite the circumstances. But Max holds up a hand, silencing him. "Max," Lando repeats, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to your ears. "Mate. We were just..."—"No," Max says, his tone sharp. "I want to hear it from my sister." His gaze locks onto you, and suddenly you feel like you're fifteen again, caught sneaking out to a party. Except this is so much worse.

You take a deep breath, willing your voice not to shake. "Max, it's not—"

"Don't," he interrupts, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me. I've seen the way you two have been acting all night. The whispers, the looks. And now I find you out here, alone, looking like..." He gestures vaguely at your disheveled appearance. Your stomach drops as you realize the jig is up. Max's eyes narrow as he looks between you and Lando, taking in your flushed faces, the slight dishevelment of Lando's curls where your fingers had been moments ago.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You can hear the muffled sounds of the party inside, laughter and music that seems to belong to another world entirely. A cool breeze ruffles your hair, carrying with it the scent of the city and the faintest trace of Lando's cologne.

"How long?" Max asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long has this been going on?" You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Lando steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours in a gesture that feels both protective and defiant. "Max," he begins, his voice steady despite the tension thrumming through his body. "It's not what you think."

"Oh really?" Max's laugh is bitter, cutting through the night air like a knife. "Because what I think is that my best friend and my sister have been sneaking around behind my back. Am I wrong?"