#wump prompt

[your-girl-nina]

So like- situationship/ relationship with characters A and B where they're raising an orphaned child together and they have many enemies after their necks, one night character A comes back from a long 1 month long work trip. They're stressed, exhausted, and just wanna sleep. They get Bach home just in time to see character B passed/knocked out on the drive way clearly severely hurt,and I'm talking 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, looking into death's eyes basically. While a van is leaving quickly, no doubt having kidnapped their child. The child who has brought happiness back into their lives, the child whom they vowed to always protect. So the question is, would they go after the van to bring their child back while their partner is fighting death and deal with guilt of losing the only person who has been by their side their whole life? Or would they help their partner while their child might be getting hurt or they might lose the kid and deal with the guilt of having failed the kid and their partner resents them for not going after the van?

Leave the answers below!

[saltydumplings]

Prompt #14

Sleepy.

It seemed to be the hero's only thought at that moment.

Tired. Sleep. Heavy - can't walk.

Their legs stumbled to a halt as they collapsed against the brick wall of the alleyway they'd wandered down, eyes drooping a little before blinking awake again.

They were almost home. Maybe. They just had to walk a little further...

They didn't move.

"Hero?"

The voice sent a fresh jolt of wakefulness through them, the hero turning languidly and staring at the figure across from them with bleary eyes. They blinked once, twice, the other's form seeming slide in and out if focus in a strange, dreamlike way.

Who was that? They knew them, didn't they? They must do: how else would the other know their name?

Their mind set, the hero started to walk towards them, their feet dragging against the ground as they pushed themself forward. If this person knew them then they could get them home. Could get them safe.

The figure stepped closer too, their arms stretching out just seconds before the hero fell and catching them in a soft embrace. With what little strength they had left, the hero pulled themself closer - eyes already slipping shut as they cuddled into the warmth of their rescuer.

"Thank you..." they said. The words came out as a quiet mumble but they hoped the other heard it.

Appreciation and relief were the last two things to cross their mind before their consciousness was finally plucked from their grasp.

Carefully, the villain continued to grip their nemesis within their arms, eyes almost seeming to sparkle as they stared down at the sleeping hero in awe.

Perhaps Christmas miracles did exist after all.

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #25

[sallowsunshine]

MC was able to take away Anne's curse, but in order to prevent her from losing all emotion, the curse had to be transferred to MC. Summer before year 6, MC isolates herself, not wanting anyone to know.

[okmcintyre]

If We're Here (for the Rest of Our Lives) by twosuns

My Bellarke Secret Santa gift for @writetheniteaway 💙

Wishing you a very, very happy New Year!! Hope you enjoy reading this one & tysm for the prompt!

Written for #bellarkegifts2023, prompt of: "PTSD/nightmares/injuries... any of that sweet sweet angst". I took THE MOST angsty storyline and flipped it to a version that I hope y'all will enjoy. Bellamy + Clarke + stuck on a planet together, probably to die there. They both have a hard time with it.

Big thanks to @bellarke-events for organizing this great event! Fandom has gifted us so much fanfic to catch up on 🤩💕☺️🎉

[whumperer-86]

Destined ep15

[shivstar]

Kinda weird question to ask when most of the people I interact on Tumblr are prongsfoot shippers,,,

But what do you guys think James Potter can do Or what event can happen making Sirius really pissed off to the point of not wanting James in his life...

Like I love Prongsfoot too but seeing this guy practically worship James Potter both in canon and decent fanon stories too. It is like having eaten too much sweet. Now i want a bit of spiciness and saltiness....

You know those friends to enemies to lovers tropes. Where they were super close friends but then one of them did something and then everything was changed...( I am not talking about miscommunication tropes.... )))

We are all people who write or imagine stories and in fictional world anything is possible. So how can this happen due to situations. Without altering their key personalities and who they are as a person....

I mean there have to be some cases where dogs too loose their loyalties?

I am not talking about just distancing and loving them from afar. I am talking about hating their guts at most Or atleast like not wanting to do anything with them. Plain indifference is even worst....

To be honest always seeing too loyal Sirius ready to wait out for James has irked me somewhat in Prongsfoot fandom. Like we see Sirius talking too much about James in canon but the one scene we have of James and Sirius, Harry concludes within a second that James will do anything for Sirius, but in fictions it is always like Sirius was in love with James and James just gave up on that because he liked Lily more Or he had interanalized homophobia etc, at the end making it all about Sirius suffering ind finally getting James meanwhile James has fun with wife and kids who then becomes good friends with Lily after their divorce because nothing bad comes to golden boy Potter.

So l like the idea of Sirius taking the reigns of his life back in his hand. And doing some self loving after realising that he is no longer a priority in James's life after Lily and then James being like realising what he has lost after taking Sirius for grated for too long and groveling and all.

So ... I guess this is an open prompt/ request, if you guys could do any snippet or would like to talk more on this....🥺🥺🥺.... I mean there has to be someone in entire Hp fandom who has had enough of wump Sirius... Or is it just me..?

[iwritesickfic]

So this past week I've had an ear infection combined with a sore throat and a fever. It's probably been over a decade since my last ear infection but they come with some serious wump potential. This made me think of Theo having to perform with a sore ear and any other list of symptoms you'd like.

hey there! thanks for the prompt ❤️ hope you enjoy!! :)

“You don’t have to do this,” Seamus says for what feels like the thousandth time. Theo sighs, slumping deeper into his chair.

“Stop saying that,” he mumbles. It’s not that Seamus is wrong - it’s the opposite. And the more he says it the more Theo wants to agree with him. This is the perfect storm for him to call off a performance. He has a double ear infection. His head is killing him. He’s at a festival in the middle of the desert and he’s running a 101 fever.

Still, people are going to be so fucking mad at him if he bails. This is his first performance in over a year, and he knows that people bought tickets and flew out here just to see him. The festival would be livid, even though there’s a clause in the contract exactly for this situation.

“You want some ice?” Seamus asks, and Theo nods, even though it hurts. Seamus is back in only a few moments with a bag of ice wrapped in a damp towel, and Theo gasps as he presses it to the tender, throbbing space behind his jaw. “Too much?”

Theo shakes his head and takes the ice, holding it under his ear with his trembling hand. He feels like he can hardly breathe.

Seamus’s fingers begin to work through his damp hair, gathering it into a small bun. He’s especially careful around Theo’s ears, his hands moving slowly and deliberately. He ties the bun loosely, then kisses the nape of his neck.

“God, I wanna fucking die,” Theo mumbles, and Seamus slides a water bottle into his hands. He doesn't need to be told, just starts taking small sips. The heat is making him nauseous and each mouthful feels heavy in his stomach.

“It'll be ok,” Seamus says softly. He kisses him again, this time on his temple, and even though it sends a shock of pain through his pounding head he doesn't mind. If there weren’t so many people watching and if it wasn’t so hot, he might have pulled him closer and buried his face in Seamus’s throat and let himself cry. But there are, and it is, so he lets Seamus walk away.

His set starts in only 45 minutes. They're already doing the changeover, stage hands hurrying back and forth with cables and guitars and mics. He can hear the crowd that's gathered. He's a headliner, he can't back out. He just can't.

Seamus comes back with some food, which Theo doesn't eat. He chokes down some ibuprofen and drinks some electrolyte thing Seamus managed to find, but he doesn't feel any better. The fact he's shivering now doesn't bode well, his body cloaked in a cold sweat. His hair is wet, and his tank top is clinging to his chest. And though they haven't spoken a word to him, someone dressed suspiciously like a medic is loitering around at a middle distance.

At least Seamus has stopped telling him he doesn't have to do it.

It's only a few minutes before the set is supposed to start when he decides he'd better finally put in his in-ears. He's standing in the walkway between the makeshift green room and stage side, staring at the two small devices in his palm. He feels weak standing up - dizzy and disoriented. He's trying to work up the courage to actually put the monitors in when Seamus comes up beside him.

He rests his hand lightly on Theo's upper back, and he doesn't need to say anything for Theo to know what he's asking.

“I'll be fine,” he mumbles, even though he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and the throbbing is enough to make his knees weak. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and it's making him slur his words. His ears are ringing.

“I know you will,” Seamus whispers back, and Theo chokes out a laugh.

“I'm not…I'm not fine right now. But I'll be fine.” He's staring at the in-ears. Seamus follows his gaze.

“Do you want-”

“No, no, I…” Theo trails off, quickly bringing one up to his right ear. He hesitates a moment before starting to put it in. Immediately, there's a burst of white hot pain that lances down his neck and all the way through his head. He presses past it, but it only gets worse. He makes a sound between a gasp and a cry, and the next thing he registers is Seamus’s voice.

“Shh, shh, you're alright,” Seamus whispers. “Here, baby, sit down.”

He's shaking all over, and it feels like there's a knife through his eardrum. His breath is short, and he's fighting to keep from actually whimpering.

He feels himself being lowered into a chair, and he can't tell whether it's tears on his cheeks or sweat. The pain is enough to send his stomach into his throat, and he can't get enough air to make it go away. He hopes no one heard Seamus call him baby. He only calls him that when he’s too sick to think straight. Theo doesn't even like being kissed in public, so the intimacy of Seamus calling him “baby” is something he doesn't want anyone bearing witness too.

His fingers are shaking so hard he can barely take the small earpiece out, and though it sends another jolt of pain through his head, he feels immediate relief when it's out. The world is spinning violently though, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

“We need a monitor. On stage monitor,” he hears Seamus say, and then there's a mess of people talking.

Then he feels hands on his knees, and he opens his eyes to see Seamus crouched in front of him, looking how he always looks when Theo’s like this. Worried, worry poorly hidden by a small smile. Seeing his face tears a sob from Theo’s throat, and he's almost immediately wracked with them, chest shuddering and heaving.

Seamus immediately pulls him into his arms, his chest so solid and steady compared to Theo’s tense, trembling body.

“Oh, baby…” Seamus says, and Theo presses himself fully into Seamus's arms. “You're gonna be alright.”

Theo can barely get words out between sobs. Seamus's hand is on the back of Theo’s head, holding him against his neck.

“I can't, I can't do this,” he chokes, and he feels Seamus sigh.

“You don't have to.”

“No, I-” he's gasping for breath between sobs. “I-”

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

He tries, but he feels like he can't force his lungs to draw in anything more than a gasp at a time. His head hurts so badly he's sure he's about to pass out. He's about to vomit.

He feels someone touch his back, grabbing his shoulder to pull him away.

“Get the fuck off me,” he chokes out.

“Hey, hey. It's alright,” Seamus whispers, but Theo would rather die than have the entire crew see him like this. “I'm sorry, I…can we just have some privacy, please?” Seamus asks, and there's more muffled talking. “I'm so sorry. He’s…I know.” The talking seems to fade, and Seamus rubs his back. “You're ok. Just relax.”

He sits there for what feels like a long time, trying to catch his breath. The pain in his head doesn't get any better, but he's at least able to calm himself down enough to not feel like he's about to pass out.

Eventually, Seamus gets him back up into the chair and slowly, the crew begins to appear again, though they're pointedly trying not to look directly at him.

The medic that he'd suspected was for him walks over with her duffel bag and smiles at him as she starts to unpack her things.

“Do you mind?” she asks, stopping short with her gloved hand hovering over his arm, and he feels a wave of shame.

“No, go ahead. I'm sorry, if I…I promise I'm not, like, an asshole celebrity or something,” he says, and she laughs. Her whole demeanor seems to lighten as wipes the back of his hand with an alcohol pad.

“No worries at all. I know you're probably in a lot of pain.”

“No, I…I'm sorry,” he says again, and winces as a needle enters the back of his hand. He turns his head so he doesn't have to see, and his gaze lands on Seamus, who's talking with Zeke and a few people dressed in black and wearing headsets and holding clipboards. Stage managers, producers, festival staff… He wonders idly if Seamus is negotiating a cancellation.

Part of him would be pissed - it should be his own choice if he performs or not - but another, much larger part would be immensely grateful. He shudders as he feels the cold liquid of the IV snaking up his arm.

“What's in that?” He asks.

“Just saline. You're pretty dehydrated.”

Seamus starts to walk over and Theo feels another wave of nausea crash over him.

“What's going on?” he asks, and Seamus fiddles with the laminated pass around his neck.

“So they agreed it's within contract if you need to back out, but if you…” Seamus adjusts the sunglasses pushed up in his hair and sighs, “If you really want to, what we can do is basically get you an on stage monitor so you don't have to wear the in-ears. And they can get you a stool so you don't have to stand the whole time.”

Theo nods before remembering that moving his head even a tiny bit makes the pain in his ears worsen.

“I...um…” He mumbles. The throbbing in his ears is almost unbearable. Even as the medic runs a thermometer over his forehead he feels the pain worsen. He's so exhausted, he's so sick. “I can't,” he finally says and Seamus nods, expression not changing at all. The backs of his fingertips brush Theo's temple.

“Sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” Theo says, voice soft. He feels a dizzying mix of relief, guilt, and anxiety pressing on his chest as soon as he says it. Even so, he knows he can't. If he tries to go out there…

Seamus sighs and squeezes his shoulder.

“Ok.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I'm new to the community, it's nice to meet you :) Can I ask, very politely, for Wump prompts based around a brother and sister in a post apocalyptic labor camp (based of of my ocs. I'm sorry if this is rude, I'm bad at social skills)

not rude at all, love. nice to meet you too! apologize for the wait. I hope you’ll find some of these prompts useful.

the siblings struggle to find food and water as their situation forces them to keep moving from place to place, for safety reasons.

the older sibling gives their own food to the younger one and insists the younger one has it by saying that they’re not hungry anyway, which is a lie, but the older one wants to make sure their younger sibling isn’t starving.

maybe one of them suffers from PTSD and often has nightmares, thus the other has to be strong for them, even though they’re traumatized too.

could diseases be at play also? some outbreaks maybe. another challenge for them to survive.

how hostile are the people around them? are they friendly or are they a threat?

if one of the siblings fell sick, or is injured, and is unable to work for their master, the other has to work twice as much to make up for their sibling, so that they can keep staying in the camp, otherwise they’ll get kicked out and it’s nothing but danger lurking in every corner outside of the camp.

but no matter what, they’ll never leave the other behind. if one of them is being exiled from the camp, the other will go with them.

or maybe they realize the camp is just as dangerous as the Outside is, if not more, and they should escape together.

throw in some angst where the siblings are somehow separated, and they don’t know where the other is or if they’re still alive at all.

how emotional will their reunion be? will they reunite unharmed?

them staying as quiet as possible at their hiding spot, with their hands over their mouths, in order to hide from the predator that’s been hunting them down.

or some fluff? them cuddling together at night and sharing a thin blanket to keep the cold away.

[thesymphonytrue]

Heyy buddy!!

If you are still taking prompts then Peter to Neal - "you're bleeding all over my carpet" (67)

XOXO

thank you for the prompt! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Longer version—Read on AO3

Pre-canon

Mozzie picked at the Brooklyn townhome lock anxiously. Normally he was calm, cool, and collected when he broke into homes but there were several worrisome issues with this particular residence:

One, it belonged to a Suit.

Two, it belonged to The Suit.

Three, Neal was unconscious and bleeding out.

Click.

The door swung open and the house alarm instantly began to sound. Mozzie knew he only had mere seconds before Peter Burke came thundering down the stairs, armed with a baseball bat (or worse). With a grunt of exertion, Mozzie pulled the unconscious Neal through the doorway and unceremoniously dumped him onto the Burke’s living room carpet.

“I’m sorry, Mon Frere,” Mozzie whispered as he skedaddled out the door, “But you’ll be in better hands here, then in theirs.”

NYPD was hot on their trail and Mozzie could not outrun them with an unconscious accomplice. Naturally, since they were already in The Suit’s neighborhood, Mozzie had to hedge his bets on Neal’s wit, charm, and Peter’s undeniable affection towards Neal (as much as Mozzie hated that) to get Neal out of the Burke’s house alive and free. Mozzie shut the door and disappeared into the night, sending up a prayer to the stars that his dear friend would escape the Suit’s clutches.

But if he didn’t…

At least Neal would be alive.

~~~~~~~

Peter scanned the living room as he bolted down the stairs, baseball bat in hand.

Neal Caffrey?

Bleeding.

Alive?

Oh god please be alive!

Peter instantly fell to Neal’s side and checked his pulse.

Thump. Thump. Tha-wump.

“What the hell did you get yourself into, Caffrey,” Peter muttered to himself, using his hands to find where Neal’s bleeding was.

“Hon! What—is that—” Elizabeth said breathlessly as she came down the stairs as well, still clad in her pajamas.

“Turn off the alarm, El, and grab the first aid kit!” Peter commanded.

Elizabeth darted to the kitchen to type in their code. The alarm wailing stopped, clearing Peter’s head. He found blood oozing from Neal’s side and instantly pressed his hands down to apply pressure.

Neal let out a whimper of pain.

“Neal, you’re okay, it’s Peter Burke, FBI—”

“Hey, P-peter…” Neal tried to smile but it was weak, “Did you get m-my postcard?”

Neal’s face contorted in discomfort and Peter’s heart squeezed painfully.

“I d-drew the picture on the front…it’s of—”

“Shh! Don’t talk!” Peter snapped, furious that Neal was wasting his precious energy on small talk.

Neal opened his eyes and seemed to search for Peter’s gaze.

“But did you get it?” Neal asked quietly, his breathing becoming shallow.

Oh. Peter realized.

Neal wanted to talk to distract from his pain.

Peter tried to smile, “Yeah, I got it. Thanks. It was a nice miniature forgery mailed right to my hands as evidence.”

Neal huffed out a laugh, then instinctively reached for his wound, but ended up gripping Peter’s hand instead. Peter’s heart stopped a moment as Neal’s hand clutched his own, and he didn’t dare look into Neal’s eyes.

But Neal didn’t let go.

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet, Caffrey,” Peter said softly, almost fondly, “Why are you here?”

Neal didn’t answer.

Peter looked at Neal’s face to see he’d gone pale, eyes shut, face motionless.

“Neal!” Peter cried, then, “Elizabeth!!”

Elizabeth appeared with bandages, “I”m here. Let’s get him patched up.”

They worked together in tandem to control Neal’s bleeding and wrap his wound. No words were said as the couple tried their best to save the criminal that had wormed his way into their lives over the past two years. Finally, Neal’s color began to return to his face and his eyelashes fluttered.

Peter let out an enormous sigh of relief and sat back, leaning against the couch with exhaustion.

“Damn it, Neal,” he whispered, dropping his head into his hands.

This kid will be the death of me.

“Peter?”

“Hey, Neal,” Peter responded, “How are you feeling?”

Neal ignored his question, “Are you going to arrest me?”

Peter hadn’t even thought about that. He pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose.

“Yes. It’s my job. You walked–er—plopped right into my house.”

Neal grinned.

Peter stood. “I’m getting my handcuffs. But you can rest easy for now. I’m calling the hospital before I haul you in.”

Neal laughed, then groaned in pain again.

“Let me get you some Advil,” Elizabeth said, scurrying back to the kitchen.

Peter took another look at Neal laying on his floor and wondered how the hell this was his life? Housing wounded criminals? He shook his head in disbelief and then climbed the stairs wearily to grab his handcuffs. He didn’t want to arrest Caffrey when he was already down like this, but, the law was the law.

It pained Peter; Neal had such potential. He was so bright, so damn smart, and yet, he was in the throes of thievery and con artistry. If there was only a way Peter could convince him to use his power for good to…

“Join me!” he said in a deep voice, raising his hand a la Darth Vader

“Ugh,” Peter said, rubbing his eyebrows as he fished his cuffs out of his briefcase.

Except Neal would be joining me on the light side, not the dark.

Right?

He needed more sleep. This line of thinking was getting ridiculous.

He started back down the stairs, ready to have a conversation with Neal about reformation. Maybe they could work out a deal. Maybe Neal wouldn’t have to go to prison for as long, maybe Peter could—

But Neal was gone.

Only a large blood stain on his carpet remained.

I wish you’d stayed. Peter thought, collapsing on the couch, dropping the handcuffs to the floor. Peter was convinced he could show Neal how to be good. There was so much good in Neal already, Peter could see it as plain as the sun rising and falling each day.

If only you’d stayed.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hear me out:

Fairy Wump (or any tiny one tbh)

Put them in a jar and then shake it. Watch them be tossed around in it, getting hurt, hitting their head and breaking bones, whatever.

Or maybe dont shake it?

Just put them in a jar and leave them there. Watching as they slowly but surely run out of oxygen. As they begin to suffocate.

Or kinda combine the two, a funny little remix of some sort:

Fill the jar with water. Not fully but enough so that they'll have to swim.

Then shake it.

Thus you can watch them while they are fighting for their life, stuggeling to get to the surface to catch gasp of air just for them to accidentally inhale water over and over again-

And just as their strenght fades away, they give up and stop fighting their inevitable death, you open the jar and spill it over.

Maybe you injured the creature even more by tossing them out of the glas? Who knows.

They cough up water and perhaps even blood. (Maybe the insertion of secondary drowning afterwards)

They cower in pain or even loose their consciousness.

I could go on...

My mind is kinda fucked to be honest. My apologies

FILLING THE JAR WITH WATER---

ooh that is genius. So mean (I love it)

could also tie in with this prompt 👀

[brxnzedragxn]

august of wump day 2--selected prompt: iv [regal sees the dragon's face for the first time, to his knowledge]

[thedemoninmywalls]

19 for the wump prompt :3

- @freakkisser

You get a lil fic under the cut!

Aro woke up in pain. These days, this happened more frequently than she cared to admit. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms, and immediately doubled over, clutching her side. The shallow wound over her hip, courtesy of Rire's knife, had begun bleeding again. Pressing her hands to the wound to stem the bleeding, Aro stumbled out of bed towards the kitchen, where the first aid supplies were kept. Every step made the throbbing pain worse. Of course Rire was in the kitchen, sipping tea and reading the newspaper. She tried to hide the wound from him as she passed, but his damn eyes saw everything. "That's a pretty nasty cut," he remarked casually, as though he hadn't caused it himself. "Perhaps you'd better stay home from work today, and let it heal." Aro shuddered at the thought. Staying home meant staying with him. "It's fine," she said a little too hastily. "I can manage it. I just need to change the bandages." He watched as she fetched a box of bandages from a high shelf, then sat down at the table to unroll it. She had trouble getting the bandages to stay where she wanted them to. "Do you need help?" Rire asked quietly. "No," Aro snapped. "I can do it myself." But her fingers trembled as she tried to take the little bits of elastic apart, and the blood from her wound made her hands slippery. Tears of frustration and pain stung her eyes. Soon she was sobbing quietly, hating herself for being incapable at this simple task, and hating herself for crying in front of him. Finally Rire stood up. "I can help," he said. "if you ask nicely." "Please," she spat through tears and gritted teeth. "Please help me." "Now, was that so hard?" He came close, towering over her. His large hands enveloped hers and gently pushed them away. He handled the bandages with a strong, sure touch, skillfully treating the wound. The pain subsided, and her tears began to dry. "Thank you," Aro said stiffly, looking down at the floor. "My sweet, stubborn pet," he cooed, ruffling her hair fondly. "What would you do without me?" "Do you really want me to answer that?" she deadpanned. He just laughed.

[vee-snz]

A little intro thingy!

My name is Vee

They/them and 18!

Snz blog: repost stuff I like, and I post hcs, scenario ideas and write some fanfics

Medias i mainly post: d/cu, j/jk, v/nc, t/rigun stampede etc!

Requests: open! Please ask me to make hcs or fics for any character! If I know them I will do it gladly! Also for fics please give me as much info as you want for the prompt so I can make it how you want it! (Probably won’t write extreme nsfw but I can do a bit)

What I’m into:

Snz (obviously)

Wump

Hurt comfort

What I’m not into:

Em*to

Making stuff of real people

[waveblazer]

Was tagged by @unrequitedbrainsidianangst . You have no idea what you just asked lol.

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

For the sake of brevity I’m excluding fics that are in progress up on Ao3. 

From oldest to newest (approximately)

Mr Wayne I Have a Proposal

Beautiful and Damned

Ghost in the Mirror

Heart of Chaos

Mr & Mr V1

Mr & Mr V2

I Am Exposed, I Am Undone

I Can Handle “Dicey”

Wump

TAUs

Legends in the (Ware)House

I Live in a Hologram With You

Cuffing Season

City of Demons

Once We Were Anarchists

Uninvited Guests 

The World We Knew

WIP Limbo

Hard Times

Caught In the Rain

Dear Forgiveness

Sand and Stars

JSI HankTodd AU

Unrequited

The Kids Are Alright

365 Days

Blue Valley

Prompts

JSA

Star Spangled Birthday

Stars Like Grains of Sand

Not This Year

TST

Infinity +1

Golden

Gilded

Sand Family

JSA Jr

A Family, Found

Young All Stars

Tagging: @strangebrainrot

[outoutdamnspark]

👑 🚦 aaaaaand

💡

Share your shame, bro bro

From the fanfic prompt list here~

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

Oof. I like longer fics, but I don't like the amount of effort they require. Ironically, though, as much as I wish I could commit to shorter pieces, I can never actually seem to keep them short.

So... Yes. XD

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

Depends on the fic, I guess? If I'm going for like, wump or total angst, then I like to go for bittersweet or pseudo-open endings. I like to try and make them hopeful when I can, though.

Otherwise I shoot for happy endings, because as much as I love angst, I need that 'comfort' to go with the 'hurt' part, you know? Otherwise it's too heavy.

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

Psi. Psi why do you wish to hurt me? Have I not been a good brother?

Oh man. Okay... just for this blog?? Not including anything P4?

And these are just the ones I've got docs for! There's a few more I haven't even started outlining yet - like the Valkyrie Profile idea, or the Pygmalion idea.

(not shown are the prompt drabbles for people, because I want those to be a surprise.)