#i do encourage people to prompt me on these subjects though if you're interested on my thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blooming-violets · 2 years ago

Note

“You’re doing so well.”

"You're doing so well." || Inexperienced Smut Prompts

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader]

Warnings: It's a smut prompt so you will be reading about two people fucking. Obviously.

“I can’t study Physics like this,” you whined. “We can’t do this here.”

Peter had taken it upon himself this semester to personally tutor you for your finals. He had developed an interest in you when you quietly shuffled into the seat beside him on your first day. He knew Physics was your least favorite subject and, if you failed, you’d have to retake the class again next year without him. Every week he would inch himself closer and closer to you during your sessions until, late one night, tucked away in his dorm room, you experienced both your first kiss and lost your virginity within the span of an hour. Peter knew how to manipulate your body in ways that made it impossible to ever want to stop. He could turn you from a studious, quietly reserved woman to a moaning, desperate whore in a matter of seconds.

Tonight, he had you sat on his lap. Literally. He picked you up and placed you down wherever he saw fit. Your underwear had been torn down your legs and stuffed into his pocket the second you met him in the student lounge. There were no “hellos” or friendly greetings. You hadn’t even had time to remove your bag from your shoulder before you were being exposed to him. He knew what he wanted, when he wanted, and he didn’t care where it was. The student lounge was empty this Sunday evening, thankfully, but it still terrified you to be doing this in such a public area. You tried to encourage him to take you back to his dorm room but that was when he had pulled you onto his lap, ending the debate before it even started.

Your legs straddled on either side of his thighs, your pleated skirt curtained over the two of you to hide what was happening underneath, though any college student who glanced this way would know exactly what was going on. Peter’s cock was buried inside of you as you faced him on the couch. Large, hard, and completely stretching you as far as your recently deflowered pussy could handle. His cock was the first thing you ever dared put inside of you and it wasn’t a small task. You had cried the first time he split you open despite how gentle he tried to be. Now, it felt almost at home buried between your folds, even if you were in a public area. Your brain was saying no but your body was screaming yes.

There were no thoughts inside of your head anymore. Only Peter and his cock. His hands brushed over your baby pink blouse, running along your spine, as he cooed in your ear, “Shh, baby, it’s alright. No one is going to see you. No one will see how much of a needy, little whore you are. Your secret is safe with me. I’ll know if anyone is headed this way. You just focus on the questions.”

You shivered when you felt his cock twitch inside of you. Neither of you moved a muscle. Your eyes closed as your breath hitched in your throat, another whine whimpering from your lips, “Peter.”

“Come on,” he urged. “Answer the question I asked. You should have been listening.”

His hands slipped to the front of your blouse, his fingers working to slowly undo every button. You held your breath, biting down on your bottom lip. You had no idea what he had said prior to sitting on his lap. He had been reading something out of the textbook leaning on the cushion beside him. He knew you weren’t listening. He enjoyed the turmoil he caused and liked watching your brain short circuit in his presence.

Peter reached behind your open shirt to unhook your bra, giving him easy access to your chest, “If you don’t answer me, I’m going to remove your shirt and leave you completely topless…out in the open…where anyone could walk by at any moment…I wonder how embarrassing it would be if someone saw you like that? Imagine what they would think of you then?”

You gave a sharp inhale, eyes widening in horror, “Please, don’t.”

“Would it really be a shame if someone else saw these beautiful tits?” He raised the cups of your bra so he could admire your chest. “I can’t be the first person to have laid eyes on them. Surely someone else must have gotten there before me.”

He knew damn well that no one had ever seen you naked before him. The wicked glint in his eye told you everything you needed to know. His teasing was nothing more than empty threats. Peter would rather die than share you with anyone.

You gave a bratty grumble and rested your forehead against his, “You’re a terrible, mean tutor.”

A devilish smilish toyed on his lips, “Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“Mhm,” you whined.

His hand slipped under your loose bra to cup your breasts. He carefully pinched your nipple between his finger and thumb, brushing over it with small, fast flicks.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you inadvertently bucked your hips. The sudden movement on his cock caused a satisfied groan to rumble in the back of Peter’s throat.

“Focus, baby.” He growled in your ear. “Don’t lose yourself. Not yet. Sit still.”

The urge to wiggle your hips was too much. Your clit was aching, begging to be touched, desperate for any sort of friction. Your toes curled in your shoes as you repressed a whimper.

“The question, Peter. Ask me the question again. I’ll be good.”

He nipped at the side of your jaw and mumbled the question against your skin, remembering the exact phrasing without even having to glance back at the book, “A charged particle traveling along the +x axis enters an electric field directed vertically upward along the +y-axis. If the charged particle experiences a force downward because of this field, what is the sign of the charge on this particle?”

He was speaking a language foreign to you. All you could think about was how wonderful he felt inside of you and how all you wanted to do was move your hips.

When you took too long to answer, he responded by giving a hard tug on your nipple, causing you to flinch in pain.

“Is the charge positive, negative, or neutral?” He began kneading your breast to help soothe out any pain he gave you. “Come on, pretty girl. You know this. Use that brain of yours for something other than cocksucking. If you get it right, I’ll give you a nice reward.”

“I-” You tried to steady your breath. The fact that you had his dick inside of you in the middle of a public space didn’t even bother you anymore. All you wanted was for him to satisfy you. You didn’t care who saw. “Negative! It’s negative.”

A proud smile broke out across his face, lighting up his eyes, “Good girl! Now tell me why it’s negative and I’ll give you what I know you want.”

“Nnghh,” words were becoming difficult to form. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving, just a little bit, to give your body what it needed.

“Use your words, pretty girl, come on,” he chided you.

“It’s…oh, god…it’s negative because positive charges in an-an electric field will have an electric force in the same direction as the field. And…negative…will be in the opposite direction…so…it-it’s negative because the charged particle experiences a force opposite to the electric field.”

“That’s my smart girl. Let me show you how proud I am of you, baby.” He placed a quick peck to your lips before thrusting his hips upwards as you stifled a shocked yelp.

You didn’t even know he could reach that deep. You felt like you could feel him bulging out your stomach. His hands left your chest to fall down around your hips, gripping them tightly, helping to move you with each small thrust. It wasn’t enough. He was dragging it out, still teasing you, wanting to make you work for it. If you wanted to give your body what it needed, you would need to take control.

You braced your hands on his shoulders for better leverage and began to ride him. Your pace grew from soft, little thrusts to long, hard strokes, finding a steady rhythm. Tears blurred your vision at the overwhelming sensations of how exceptional he felt. The wait was almost too much but now there was no stopping you.

Peter’s head had fallen back against the couch cushions, his eyes closed, “Fuck, that’s good.”

You responded with a quiet whimper, nuzzling your face into his cheek to try to get his attention back on your face, “I want to be good for you.”

He opened his eyes to give you a soft smile, murmuring against your puckered lips, “You’re always so good for me, babygirl.” His slights gazed down to watch as you rose and fell over him, impaling his cock into you. He liked to watch it disappear, liked to watch as you took it all, every last millimeter like the good girl you were. “That’s it. Take it all. You’re so tight, babe. So tight for me.”

You couldn’t do anything except chase the divine sensations rolling through your body. The pleasure rippled through you, the knot tightening in your stomach. With every thrust, you were closer to the finish line. It didn’t take much for you to get there. Everything still felt so new, so fresh, that every sensation sent you spiraling. Peter’s hands tangled in your hair, gripping onto the back of your head, as he pulled you close against his chest. Quiet sobs racked through your body. You felt silly for crying over how good his cock felt but you couldn’t stop. He reduced you to a shaking, shivering, sobbing mess in a matter of seconds.

“Shh,” his soothing voice whispered in your ear. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You’re doing so good for me. You’re doing so well. That’s it. Just take a little bit more. We’re almost there. I’ve got you.”

Peter took over, moving his hips, filling you to your core. He switched his pace from yours. Instead of your frenzied, jerking thrusts, he penetrated you with a slow, deliberate intensity. He cupped your cheeks, drawing your attention to him.

“Kiss me,” he whispered in a husky, low tone.

Your nose brushed against his soft skin as your lips crashed onto him. Your tongue pried open his mouth and slipped past his lips to tangle with his. You grabbed fistfulls of his shaggy hair, moaning into his mouth, panting, getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter if you passed out. It didn’t matter if anyone saw you. It didn’t matter if you failed your class. All that mattered was Peter Parker and the way he lit a fire between your thighs.

You could feel your climax growing, Peter’s too. His rhythm sped up. The quiet, needy whines in the back of his throat got lost under your own whimpers. The swell of his cock twitched inside of you. He gripped onto you so tightly like he was terrified of you disappearing from his grasp at such a pivotal moment.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he gasped out between heavy breaths. “Let me feel you.”

You rested your forehead against his sweaty one, gazing through half closed lids at him, taking in every look of needy desperation that flashed across his features. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. His words were all you needed to let yourself go.

Your climax washed through you like a tsunami, overwhelming your senses, and sweeping you away in a whirling maelstrom of pleasure. A scream got caught in the back of your throat, burying your face against his shoulder in an attempt to keep it from escaping. Somewhere, in the back of your blissed out brain, you remembered that you were still inside the student lounge.

The sensations of your sex spasming and squeezing around his cock was exactly what Peter needed to finish. He wrapped his arms tight around your waist and forced your body down as he thrust up his hips, making sure he was entirely buried inside of you, as he erupted. Spurt after spurt of hot cum emptied into your waiting cunt.

“Ah,” you whimper, hiding your face into his neck, the tears spilling freely down your cheeks now. “Oh, Peter. Yes, yes, yes. You feel so good.”

Your arms felt numb and tingly, your head spun and your vision blurred. You had to actively remember to breathe or else you’d fail to do so. You tried to squeeze out everything he had to give you, feeling him throbbing inside of you, twitching as a shiver shot through your body. You adored how he felt without a condom. It felt raw and real like this was how it was supposed to happen. The night you gave him your virginity, he had used one, but once you started taking birth control, you had asked him to stop. You wanted to feel every part of him, wanted him to live inside of you. He was the kind of person who shouldn’t ever be covered up.

You stayed wrapped around him, safe in his arms, as you came down from you high. Peter traced lazy lines up and down your spine while you focused on your breathing. You felt like your body was glowing, brighter than the sun, and ready to float away. It would give a shudder every so often as his cock softened inside of you until you finally lifted yourself from his lap. If you weren’t the first one to move, you two would never untangle yourselves. Peter never moved away until you did. He always followed your lead. You often wondered if he would hold you forever if you never pulled away. One day, maybe you would test that theory.

You could feel parts of him dripping down your inner thigh as you rose onto shaky legs. You hurried to fix your bra and button your shirt back up. Peter made no attempts to get off the couch, his softening cock resting against his thigh, a large wet spot made by you damping his pants. He gazed up at you, admiring your body while you tried to make yourself presentable again.

“You know we’re not finished, right?” He asked, raising his brows in amusement. “We went over one, single question. You have an entire chapter to get through.”

Your mouth fell open in shock, gasping in his direction, the realization setting in, “But-”

“But what? I told you I was going to help you pass this test. We still have work to do.” His mischievous smile grew. “Sit back down.”

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm x reader #tasm smut #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #inexperienced smut prompts #blooming violets #blooming violets fic

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xris05 · 1 year ago

Text

Geography, sustainability, etc etc

Despite popular demand to the contrary, I have returned, with a goal to achieve only the most utter of victories. Conquering this damn assignment whilst being passive aggressive to ideas I find unfeasible at the same time.

On todays schedule we first have up to the chopping block for prompt examination, Hydrogen Fuel Cells. For once, an idea that I have both initially heard of, and did not have a strongly negative opinion of from the onset.

A bit more of a deep dive is always scholarly (and required for me to feel like I've done my due diligence). Unusually, this didn't leave me immediately thinking it was the worst and most uniquely foolish invention conceived by a human mind.

Let's keep to that positive streak by thinking about the positives of hydrogen fuel cells. For one, they're not fossil fuel, gas guzzling nightmare apocalypse machines. This may be literally rock bottom in terms of bars to clear, but it's still a step up compared to 85% of vehicles sold last year.

Secondly, they produce zero air pollutants! Which is honestly quite good, as personally I don't like breathing in an unknown and potentially toxic soup of chemicals and letting it marinate in my ole respiratory system.

Thirdly, hydrogen is pretty damn efficient as a fuel source, pulling roughly 70 MPGe (that's miles per gasoline gallon equivalent)

However, this is where I'm going to pivot away from being positive and cheery because such relentless optimism has no place on my record, and thus, let's dive into the issues.

The first issue is some that the keen-eyed amongst you may have been able to note already. These are Hydrogen Fuel Cells. Now, for those unaware, hydrogen is the first element on the periodic table, and is also absurdly flammable. Quite famously so, in fact.

(Pictured above, the Hindenburg descending in flames, picture captured by Sam Shere, 1937)

So, understandably, there is some safety concerns about putting hydrogen into our little boxes which we cram ourselves into, and then hurdle down roads at 40mph. Especially because people have a habit of crashing said metal boxes quite spectacularly.

In the interest of fairness though, I will note that cars tend to be pretty hilariously dangerous anyway as gasoline tends to also be very damn flammable and explosive at the best of times anyway.

The next issue, is the question of my most beloved of subjects, infrastructure. Much like gasoline, one needs infrastructure to fill up their little mobile deathmachines with enough juice to keep it moving, and this requires a place for one to fill up the tanks, and the places and equipment to refine the hydrogen, which might be on sight, but equally so could be offsite and if it's offsite you need to transport it onsite and so on and so forth. But incentives and funding from whatever your local monopoly on violence is likely the response to this particular issue, even if most these days focus on electric cars

Now, one thing that is also pretty important to note is that all of this is expensive. Building and refitting production lines to make hydrogen fuel cell cars, and the fuel cells themselves, and to build the infrastructure and all that lovely stuff. I find this the least compelling argument personally, as money is last on the list of things that matters in the face of the climate crisis.

So, here we are, the conclusion. Are Hydrogen Fuel Cells the future? Are they economical? Are they going to violently explode? The answer to all of these is probably not, but make your own opinions, don't just trust me, do your reading, look into it, come back and call me an idiot who knows nothing, I encourage it

See yah later folks, and remember, if you think you're about to solve the energy crisis, ask yourself if your new power source is as efficient, safe and cool as nuclear power.

#geography #human geography #academic assignments #longish post #tags my enemy #Screaming into the void #trains are always the answer #how do i use tumblr #where am i #who am i #what is this place

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so-mordor-itis · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt list a #13: “handle with care” wolcred, wol with war trauma? —schrodinger’s idiot

Eyooooo some Thancred content coming to you live--there's slight Endwalker spoilers below if you mind stuff like that!

The blankets on your bed were cold that night. You couldn't sleep, not this time. It would've been useless to attempt it, knowing exactly why you were awake in the first place. The flashbacks gained strength over your mind once more. Sleep was gone by that point.

Whenever this took place, you wrapped your hands around a pillow, clutched it with most of your strength (you didn't want to pop it), and took deep breaths. Usually, that did the trick. Usually. Somehow, tonight, nothing seemed to pull them away. The memories of all that happened.

Books. Perhaps a book would be a helpful distraction. To drag you to another world, maybe could calm your erratic heartbeat. The subject mattered not, only that you could forget, even for a little while.

Without a care, you didn't scan the title of the book you chose. You simply relied on instinct, feeling the spine for wear. You flickered on a lamp, and began to graze the pages. Allagan technology. Maybe you could recall the tales G'raha had recited to you in the process.

Your heartbeat had forgotten why it was aflame.

"You do realize," a voice called you from behind, "that it is nearly dawn?"

Ah.

You knew whose voice that was, the gods above knew you did.

You didn't even need to turn around to know he had a hand on his hip. Or would his arms be crossed? You supposed that depended on his current mood.

"Is it?" You responded, voice slightly hoarse from not using it all night. "I...I suppose time ran away from me."

"I see." He said. Though, you weren't entirely certain you managed to convince him. Thancred could read you thoroughly as if you were a book he had read many a time. He always could, even when you didn't want him to.

You don't want to tell him what happened. What caused you to stay up the entire night reading about technology that only certain people would be truly interested in. (While it certainly had been an intriguing read, some words were lost to you.)

You hoped Thancred didn't notice you had nightmares. That you squirmed in your sleep, remembering Zenos' cold grip on your wrist, that isolating feeling he left in your soul when he replaced it with his own. You hoped he didn't realize your fear of having history repeat itself.

Thancred called your name, probably hoping you'd turn around to face him, but you do not. You couldn't. Not after your fumbling excuse. Then he could read you even more clearly.

You heard him sigh. "I know why you're up, you do realize that, yes?"

Dammit.

"I…" you wanted to say more, to deny his claim. Yet you knew you couldn't even if you begged and pleaded on your knees. "I couldn't sleep."

"Clearly. I can hear it in your voice, love." You heard his footsteps approach you, getting closer and closer as the seconds rolled by. "And it's okay to tell me these things."

"I didn't want to burden you." You hated how small your voice sounded. How weak. You felt like a child being scolded by a parent. You knew you could always explain to him why you were up, why you felt these things. The words were stubborn, it seemed.

Two warm hands placed themselves on your shoulders, his breath was now against your ear. "You could never burden me. You know this."

"You need your sleep too."

"While I would agree with that, I could easily say the same to you."

"Thancred…"

He kissed the back of your head, a tender gesture that made you nearly burst into tears. "Darling, please don't hold in your feelings. It does more harm than good, bottling them up." He said it as if he had experience. Which he had. It gave the words more emphasis. "I encourage--implore you to express these to me. I can help, at least somewhat. You have my heart, exactly like I have yours."

"Don't drop it," you murmured, "It needs to be handled with care."

Another kiss, this time to your cheek. You turned around to face him, allowing him to finally get a better look at your face. He frowned for a split second, probably noticing the bags under your eyes. Thancred then gave you a smile, a small one, but warm nonetheless.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

|Tags:|

@crytalstellar

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy imagines #thancred waters #thancred x reader #thancred x wol

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years ago

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If you're accepting prompts, how about one where people either can't lie to LWJ or he can tell when they're lying, and he inadvertently discovers a whole bunch of stuff WWX would rather he didn't (could be either WWX's low self worth, or his intense LWJ-based thirst!)

such a good prompt omg thank you [Posted to Ao3]

It was a curse, some said. A gift, according to others. The sect debated for years on the technicalities and argued their differing opinions over Lan Zhan’s head until Lan Qiren insisted the sect leave his nephew alone.

No one ever asked Lan Zhan what he thought.

He considered it neither a gift nor a curse. It was simply a part of him, the same as his golden core.

Except while a golden core was perfectly normal, Lan Zhan’s ability to detect any lie— spoken or unspoken— was less so. He heard falsehoods like music; words were notes, conversations were harmonies, and lies were the jarring wrong note that scraped harshly across his ears.

The hardest part was learning the reasons for a lie. Lan Zhan did not understand people the way his brother did, could only hear their lies and quietly disapprove. But Lan Xichen spent hours upon hours with him, testing the bounds of the skill and gently pointing out the different types of lies, and why the distinctions were important.

Sometimes, he’d said, people lie to protect themselves or others. Sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth. They were not all born of malicious intent, and he’d taught Lan Zhan how to distinguish between them. How to identify the dangerous lies, the harmful ones, and those that were best left unacknowledged out of kindness or respect.

Lan Xichen had been eternally patient, remarkably encouraging, and quietly concerned about the effect this curse would have on his little brother. Lan Zhan had seen it in his face, the nonverbal lie reading to him like a whisper every time Lan Xichen smiled to hide his worry.

His brother had never asked about the source of the curse or gift or whatever the sect considered it; Lan Zhan suspected he had his own theories, and Lan Xichen’s guesses would most certainly be better than the elders’.

But only Lan Zhan knew its origins for sure.

His mother had been lied to, once, and as a result had spent the rest of her days a prisoner in a small, lonely house. His clearest memory of his mother was her holding him close, tucking him into her lap and wrapping her arms around him in a loving, protective cocoon. It was the safest he had ever felt.

He’d been too young to recognize his mother’s sorrow for what it was at the time, the way she’d clearly known her death was approaching. But he remembered the quiet words she’d whispered to him, words of love and fear and protectiveness. The way her golden core had enveloped him, warm and steady, as she made sure her youngest son would not live in a house of lies and silence like her.

It was her greatest gift to him, and her last.

~*~

Lan Zhan knew the sound of a lie. So when a particularly irritating disciple arrived and immediately began causing trouble, Lan Zhan expected any number of lies from the boy. He was eager, even, for vindication for his own prejudice against such a disrespectful nuisance.

But Wei Ying had a way of talking that sounded like slurred notes to Lan Zhan’s highly trained ear. He was all chaos and deflection, and Lan Zhan experienced something uncomfortably like whiplash trying to keep up with the words in Wei Ying’s never-ending chatter.

It could not have been deliberate— no one outside of the Lan Sect’s elders and his own family knew of Lan Zhan’s particular skill— but nonetheless Wei Ying avoided giving straight answers, topics sliding sideways and off course with a joke, a question of his own, or some wildly inappropriate comment that made Lan Zhan too furious to focus.

He was infuriating.

He was beautiful.

Somehow that was worse.

Lan Zhan did not bother to look over as Wei Ying bickered with his sect brother, not in any mood to deal with him or his own feelings about the biggest troublemaker he’d ever met in his life.

Wei Ying’s laugh rang over the courtyard, bright and happy as he slung an arm over Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders, ignoring the sect heir’s incensed protests. “Don’t lie, shidi, I know you love me!”

The lie sounded like a gong in Lan Zhan’s head, startling him so badly that he stumbled to an awkward stop and snapped his head around to stare at Wei Ying, who was for once paying him no attention.

His ever-present smile was in place, nothing false or fixed about it. Wei Ying wore happiness and humor like armor, and Lan Zhan wondered if anyone had ever seen past it. He hadn’t… until now.

Lies were interesting things. Sometimes entire speeches were a lie (for instance, everything that came out of Jin Guangshan’s mouth). Sometimes gestures held the lie, such as Nie Huaisang’s amiable nod of agreement whenever his older brother ordered him to go train with his saber. And sometimes the lie was only a single word.

I know you love me. The low, booming signal of Wei Ying’s lie was significant for two reasons: the timing, and the strength of the sound. The greater the lie, the louder the noise, and this one had left a painful echo in Lan Zhan’s ears from the force of it. And the timing… the lie had been marked on a single word: love.

I know you love me. But Wei Ying did not believe this, not even a little.

Lan Zhan… did not know what to do with this revelation.

By the end of class that day, during which Wei Ying had been bellowed at by Lan Qiren and handed off to Lan Zhan for yet another punishment, he still had not figured out what to do about it. He would have gone to his brother for advice, because Xichen always helped him find the right thing to do, but lately his brother had a terrible light of laughter in his eyes every time Lan Zhan mentioned Wei Ying, and he was not about to willingly subject himself to that indignity.

So he was left to his own devices. Lan Zhan stared down at his scroll, not reading a single word of it because of to Wei Ying’s indecent sprawl across a nearby desk. He was humming innocently, like Lan Zhan couldn’t see him urging a tiny paper man on a march towards Lan Zhan’s pot of ink.

“Focus on your work,” Lan Zhan said sternly, capturing the figure just before it dipped its little arms in the bowl and went on a rampage.

“Ugh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whined, flopping over the desk. “This is so boring, how can you stand it? Not even Madam Yu would make me do all this!”

Lan Zhan studied the paper man in the cage of his fingers. This was a chance to learn more, he thought, about Wei Wuxian’s life in Yunmeng. Maybe even about why he did not believe his own brother loved him.

Why do you care? This does not concern you. Lan Zhan mutinously banished the thought and set the paper man free to explore the stack of books on his desk.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you like Lotus Pier?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughed. “What kind of question is that?”

Lan Zhan felt the familiar surge of frustration at the deflection; he could never get a straight answer out of Wei Ying, and it was a source of much aggravation.

“You mention punishments at Lotus Pier frequently,” he said instead of pinning Wei Ying to the floor until he got a truthful answer. The image sent a flash of heat through him, and he held himself very, very still until he had control over himself again.

“Eh.” Wei Ying waved a dismissive hand. “I get in trouble everywhere, Lan Zhan, whether I mean to or not.”

Truth.

“Are you punished in similar ways?” Lan Zhan asked, looking pointedly at Wei Ying’s abandoned paper of half-copied rules.

“No one gives punishments like the Lans. Don’t worry, your sect’s reputation is still the most feared of all!”

Not true, because anyone with half a brain knew to be wary of Wen Ruohan. This lie was like a slipped finger on the string of a qin, a short, wavering note that was discordant and vaguely unsettling. An untruth, technically, but said as a joke, as a sort-of truth because both of them knew the statement wasn’t genuine and that they other knew it as well.

Lan Zhan had a headache.

He tried a different track. “You were adopted by Sect Leader Jiang?”

Wei Ying sat up, propping his elbows on his desk and studying him for a moment before grinning. “So many questions, Lan Zhan! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be friends.”

It was said teasingly, and the lie was held in the latter part of the sentence— Wei Ying did not believe Lan Zhan wanted to be friends. That, combined with the frustration of yet another question avoided, made Lan Zhan say, “It seems you do not know better.”

Embarrassingly, his heart was pounding at the admission. Lan Zhan had never had a friend before, other than his brother, and he certainly did not know how to make them. But he knew that he wanted to spend time with Wei Ying more and more often, even though part of him rebelled at the thought.

It was oddly silent in the library. Lan Zhan knew his ears were flushed red with embarrassment and uncertainty, and he waited with bated breath for Wei Ying to tease him again, to deflect with another laugh or joke that kindly disguised the fact that he did not want to be Lan Zhan’s friend, that Lan Zhan was too stiff and weird and boring to be anyone’s friend.

A little nauseated, Lan Zhan lifted his eyes from his paper and gathered his courage to look at the other boy.

Wei Ying was gaping at him like a fish.

“Friends?” He finally managed. Lan Zhan dropped his eyes back to the desk and said nothing, couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. “You don’t want to be my friend!”

His gaze flickered back towards Wei Ying. The statement was untrue, obviously, but it was a lie that Wei Ying believed to be true, so it sounded like a half-missed note on a flute. Easily corrected, quickly covered, but there nonetheless.

“Says who?” Lan Zhan asked, wondering… hoping…

Wei Ying blinked at him for a moment, visibly stumped. Ridiculously, it made Lan Zhan feel as though he’d won something. Triumph over being the one to shock Wei Ying into uncharacteristic silence for once.

As expected, it didn’t last long.

Traitorous fondness glowed in his chest as Wei Ying planted his hands on the desk and raised himself onto his knees with an indignant expression. His hair fell in disarray around his face, a half-tied red ribbon spilling over his shoulder and against rumpled robes.

“You did!” Wei Ying said, outraged. “I said we should be friends on the first night!”

He’d said a lot of things that first night, Lan Zhan thought with reluctant amusement. Lan Zhan had forgotten most of it thanks to the veil of rage that had overtaken him as he chased a beautiful boy under the moonlight.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said, dismissive, mostly just to watch Wei Ying’s expression contort into disbelief. “Did you ask?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Of course I asked!” He said too loudly, and then cocked his head like he’d heard the ring of the lie, too. “Oh. Huh, I guess I didn’t ask, now that I think about it.”

He looked at Lan Zhan with a gleam in his eye. Lan Zhan had only a second to think, uh oh, and then Wei Ying had vaulted over his desk to land on his knees across from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, leaning in like they were sharing secrets. Lan Zhan’s hear thundered in his ears as Wei Ying grinned conspiratorially at him and leaned in close enough that Lan Zhan could smell the floral scent of his hair oil, the tinge of chili oil that he’d smuggled into the Cloud Recesses and then at some point spilled on his sleeve. “I want to be your friend. Do you want to be friends?”

Lan Zhan savored the silence around his words— I want to be your friend, he’d said, with no single hint of a lie— and tried not to let the mischievous glint in Wei Ying’s eye distract him.

It was too late, though. The seed of mischief had taken root in Lan Zhan, which was why he said with a perfectly straight face, “Hm. I will have to think about it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying squawked with indignation, and then must have caught the tiny curl of Lan Zhan’s mouth because he exploded into laughter a second later. “Were you teasing me just now? Lan Zhan, I can’t believe this.”

Quietly pleased with himself, Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying laughed until he ran out of air, falling onto his back with his usual exuberant expressiveness. The laughter was a joyous sound, bright and honest, and hearing it in one of his favorite places made Lan Zhan’s chest feel warm and tight.

His mother would have liked him, Lan Zhan thought wistfully. For his humor, his irrepressible love of life, his fearlessness. His heart felt too big for his chest as he listened to Wei Ying laugh, unrestrained emotion where only disciplined constraint had ever been permitted.

He would investigate Wei Ying’s beliefs about his own worth later, he decided. They were friends now, so this was allowed.

For now, though, he let the clear, ringing music of Wei Ying’s laughter fill the room. Basked in the warmth he hadn’t felt since his mother had been alive, and softened enough to smile back at Wei Ying.

#y'all have sent me some fantastic prompts #this one was fun #the untamed #wangxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei ying #wei wuxian #mdzs #asks #anon #prompts #my writing #my fics

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whumpiary · 4 years ago

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cw: unkind family member made a comment trying to justify some horrible stuff

So this might be a big dumb ™ question, but I'm really not great with words out loud when I'm under a lot of emotion. It's why I'm a writer, I think; I write out my responses so much better than I could ever say them.

Someone in my family over their holiday visit spied on me reading a whump prompt, and after they quickly skimmed it, they made the most offhand, hurtful comment. I feel like a loser because I had 0 idea how to respond to it because my brain does a massive freeze response and locks completely up.

They said, "Oh, so you're fetishizing abuse now? Makes it perfectly cool then, I guess, to do _____ to someone."

I was so angry, all I could do was stumble out "No, that's not--no," and had to just leave and cry in the next room until they left. I wanted to explain that no; whump is something that helps me. I just...I didn't know what to say, or how to properly describe whump, and I almost want to reach out and explain it to them, but they're unfortunately the type of family member to side with all the wrong types of people. They're always saying something like this, it's just never been directly to me.

I think my question is, do you or a fellow whump writer have advice for how I might explain this to someone in the future, if not that particular person, that that's not what this is doing? That that's not what my fellow writers are doing? Because honestly, I've never been in a more supportive community than this, I love how whole I feel here, but I'm just struggling so much with not only the right way to explain it, but the guts to say it out loud.

I'm so sorry to bother you. I look up to you a lot. It's hard being in a trauma headspace a lot and formulating responses under pressure for me personally. Ughhhh. I'm asking anonymously because I'm too scared I'll be put on blast or something for 'not speaking up'. But thank you for reading. I support you and your work, and the entire whump community's work, so much. I hope everything's going well ♥️ You all really do inspire me.

This isn’t a dumb question at all. Thanks for writing me.

Cards on the table, it’s late in my time zone (Happy New Year, in fact!) so I may reblog again in the morning with more thoughts but it felt important to answer you tonight.

I see you and I hear you and I am sending you so much love. What your family member did was really shitty. (First, spying on something seemingly without your consent? Asshole move. Second, making you feel shit about something you like? Asshole love. Third, making you feel shit about something you made? Big asshole move.) I’m sorry you had to experience that.

First up: There’s nothing wrong with you for liking whump. There’s nothing wrong with you for reading it. There’s nothing wrong with you for writing it.

Liking and producing whump content doesn’t mean you condone abuse, and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. You’re okay.

You’re also not a loser for not being able to rattle off a perfectly reasoned response in a moment of confrontation. That shit is hard, even when you’re not running on trauma software. You’re not a failure or dumb for not having an answer for them. You’re just a human. Especially on a topic as complex as whump.

I don’t think anyone would “put you on blast” for not speaking up. We’ve all been there, whether on the topic of whump or not. Anyone who’s telling you that you need to be a champion defender of whump at all times is just as much of an asshole as your family member in my opinion. You need to look after you first.

Whump is more prolific than we acknowledge or people recognise sometimes, in my opinion. It’s very easy for people to watch a movie or read a book and know the creators aren’t condoning what they’re depicting, but people seem to find it more difficult when they know the artists personally (like your family member knows you, for example). Something that I do sometimes is make references to things that are well known. Like:

“Saving Private Ryan depicts war and I don’t think they’re glorifying war. It’s a way to explore different parts of humanity and I think that’s interesting”

“[insert TV show here] has a lot heavy themes as a way of exploring character and relationships. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“Horror movies depict violence and gore all the time and they’re rarely fetishising things. It’s a way to get people to face and explore their fears and anxieties in safe, entertaining ways.”

You can also check out the “defining whump” tag for some really great community commentary on the subject.

Here’s the other thing, though: You also just straight up don’t have to justify yourself. You can just shrug and ignore them. Their opinion, and I know this maybe doesn’t feel true, straight up doesn’t matter.

If your family member is anything like some of mine, they likely won’t be convinced to your side. I don’t know your family member, so maybe I’m wrong, but it sounds to me like they were wanting to pick a fight, not have a discussion with you. In which case, even a million well thought out points and arguments won’t help. They’re just in this to make you feel crappy. In those situations, sometimes it’s best to just say “that’s your opinion, I just gave a different view” and step away from the convo.

You know why you like whump. You know why you read it. You know why you write it. You know what you enjoy about it. You know you don’t condone abuse or violence. That’s all that matters. You don’t need a moral high ground to find joy or benefit in something. It’s all good.

I know this is easier said than done, but remind yourself of the community you love and the content you enjoy and let the comments be water off a ducks back. We’ve got you. We get you. Forget about the folks that don’t. They’ve got their plate full of their own shit and clearly don’t have the space for empathy right now.

We love you. We are you. You’re all good, mate.

Anyone who has some words of wisdom or love to send is welcome and encouraged to pile onto this post. I think Anon needs it.

(P.S I hope you get around to posting that prompt! If it prompted such a reaction from someone reading it, I bet it’s a doozy. I’d love to see it and I bet the rest of the community would too)

#whump community #whump discourse #defining whump #answered #anonymous #long post

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popatochisssp · 6 years ago

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Hello! You're a really good writer, so I was wondering if you had any tips for starting writing?

Oof, this is a tough one, everybody has a different process…

But I can try to share mine, I guess!

I started writing………long ago, in the days of yore (Quizilla and Fanfiction.net, yikes), as a youth with great passion for cartoons and also bishounen~

My work from those days was………pretty terrible. >.>

I got into a solid fandom eventually and kept writing fanfiction in it, and while there’s still some of my oldest stuff floating around that I’m kinda embarrassed by, it got better and my later work is something I actually look back on now like, “Hey, that doesn’t hold up half bad!”

I eventually fell out of that fandom and just passively lurked a lot in others for a couple years, and then one day my passion for skeletons encouraged me to start writing something again– and I did! FGTC came out of that, and I’m pretty proud of the way that turned out…

But you’re asking for advice so:

Write. Write a lot. Even if you feel like it sucks or you can’t seem to make the kinds of pieces you want to at…whatever skill level you’re at. You’re gonna spend at least a little time sucking, that’s just the way any kind of art works, but you can’t get better without practice!

Read a lot, too! You might already be doing this, but with fanfiction especially, start paying attention to the things you’re reading for fun, like turns of phrase that sound cool, formats you think would be interesting to try out for yourself, stuff like that. Eventually you’re going to find yourself noticing things that seem to (subjectively) work and things that don’t, so you’ll know a little better what to shoot for or to avoid when you write your own things.

Here’s the big one, though, this is super important, always keep this one in mind…

Be gentle with yourself! Don’t expect too much of yourself right out of the gate, it’s a great way to set yourself up for disappointment or feeling like you failed.

Like, if you’ve never done a big multi-chaptered fic before and you’re not really sure where it’s going or if you can commit to it…maybe don’t, just yet? You shouldn’t not push yourself outside your comfort zone from time to time, but build up to things, start with ficlets, prompt-fills, one-shots, etc. while you’re still figuring out your process and how things go for you. You can work up to that long fic eventually and when you do, you’ll probably be more comfortable tackling it than trying when it’s your first piece and you’re still just trying to sort out what the hell is going on! XD

And hey, if you write something and think, “Aw man, this sucks, it’s nowhere near as good as X’s stuff…” I guarantee you X has had that exact same thought about somebody else at least once, probably several times.

Always remember the Two Cakes rule– maybe you think somebody else’s cake is prettier than yours, or that it tastes better and people aren’t gonna want to even see your cake… but we do! Because holy shit, more cakes!!! And you just can’t know if your cake is just what somebody’s been looking for if you never show it to anybody.

Somebody out there is gonna like your cake, and if you keep practicing and studying your craft, your cake-making skills can only get better! ;3

#anonymous #fandom #fanfiction #for reference #writing.........is hard #but do it anyway

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