#i have a bunch of prompt wips for what happens next and i can't wait to finish themm

[whump-captain]

No. 14 - Die a hero or live long enough to become a villain

Desperate measures | Failed escape | "I'll be right behind you"

1400 words | OC: Kintsugi

Taglist (feel free to ask to be added/removed!): @thatsgonnaleaveamark

ok so this is the Plot Twist Episode. i know ive been posting this entirely out if order but i do recommend reading this as like, the last in order of all the kintsugi stuff - you can find it all in the tag here. this also follows on directly from this prompt, like literally 5 minutes later. im excited for this tho, i finally get to push the story along 👀

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CN: gun use, theats of death, gun to head, murder, major character death, gore, mentions of past torture

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It was the cold wind that whipped consciousness back into Ethan's hollow mind. His legs were moving, carrying him in the direction that the shoves to his back were setting - but he had no control, he simply stumbled in a desperate attempt to keep upright. His whole body was aching, he couldn't feel his fingers, and white hot pain pulsed on the side of his neck where the newly burned skin had distorted and tightened.

The light outside seemed blinding, even though it was twilight and the flood lights were dimmed by fog. Ethan didn't dare to lift his head to look at the white-walled buildings and shipping containers; he kept his eyes fixed on his own shambling feet, on the snow swept across the concrete. A pair of boots appeared in his field of view, marching steadily alongside him. His breath caught and he had to set his teeth tight to stifle a useless plea. Linde wouldn't listen. He never listened. He just smiled and questioned, and grabbed, and punched, and burned, and Ethan couldn't breathe just looking at his shoes; just knowing that he was close. Cold terror gripped his lungs like a strangling fist.

A few more shaking steps carried him forward until he realized the next shove never came. He stood hunched over, huddled around himself against the wind and the waves of nauseating pain. Two pairs of footsteps behind him stopped as well.

Slowly, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Tears stung his eyes and dulled the lenses of his glasses as they froze into stains of frost. Hazed and swaying, the two figures behind him were little more than blurs of shadows on the snow.

But one of them moved and in the glint of light Ethan recognized the barrel of a gun.

"Alright, mate," said the female guard. "Last chance."

Ground fell away from under Ethan's feet. He whipped back around, buried his head in his shoulders, but the image was still there, embedded into his mind. He could feel it. The gun was inches away from him, it was hot, it burned through the air between them and fused itself to him.

It was there. It was right there, it was loaded, he could see it even though he screwed his eyes shut. Oh, God, it was right there and she was going to kill him, she was going to kill him.

"Please," he choked out. "Please, don't do this." He held his arms in the air, even though the left one hurt so much it made his knees wobble. This was it, this was the end and this pain would be the last thing he'd ever feel; it would swallow all he had ever hoped to be, it would shred and erase his future, end him right there and then, even though he had so much he had wanted to do, he- "I can't- die here," he begged. "I don't want to die here."

"Then you better start talking, innit?" The woman pulled back the hammer and the gentle click stabbed into Ethan's mind like a blade. "Give me the truth," she said.

"I'm not a spy!" he cried out. "I'm not anyone! Please, please believe me." His voice hitched and dissolved into sobs. "Oh, God, please, don't do this."

Violent shivers overtook him and his legs barely held him. Everything blurred, he hung in a void as white as the snow and unbearably, nauseatingly cold. Somewhere far away burned anger but it seemed to be someone else's. Ethan couldn't find the strength to feel it. The only thing his desperate mind knew was fear and pleading, and the constant, icy presence of the gun pointed at his head.

The hands holding that gun were steady. Lucy stood still like a block of ice, planted steadily into the frigid ground. But her thoughts raged like flames, flicking in and out of existence, too fast and too foreign for her to make sense of. What was she doing? Why was she here, with a pistol that didn't belong to her; why did she leave her rifle and follow Linde out to the back of the storage wing? All she had wanted was not to have to watch him murder someone.

How the fuck had she ended up aiming a gun at someone again?

I could put him out of his misery, she thought, watching Lythmer cower before her. It would be a mercy to shoot him - a simple, instant end; too fast to cause him any pain.

But she couldn't forget what he'd said. How he had told her he'd be out of here, surely, because he still had a future to witness. Those words had stuck with her, etched into the back of her mind and the burning echo of them was overpowering. Through the cacophony in her mind, she couldn't recognize the feeling as envy.

Linde was watching her, with an infuriating smirk curving his mouth again, as if he was catching her out on a mistake. She couldn't care less what he thought. She herself had no idea if what she was doing was right.

But she did know that she hated him.

Hated him for his obsession; for his twisted hunger for power. For his unchallenged willingness to torture and murder just so he could feel like a soldier again.

With all the blood on her hands, she should have felt like a hypocrite for that hatred but she didn't care. Her own past didn't matter now. Nothing mattered apart from this frozen moment in time, from the weight in her hand and the two men stood out here with her in the fog - the one before her, and the one behind her.

Only one of these men had a future. The other one had her gun to his head.

The thought of that lit a blinding, cavernous rage so brightly inside her heart that it spilled out into her lungs and then corroded her from the inside. Her hands shivered and she gripped the pistol tighter.

She only knew one way to deal with anger like this.

And she no longer cared if it was the right thing to do.

"That's your final word?" she asked, voice low.

Ethan Lythmer curled into himself tighter, his hands trembling. "Yes," he whispered. "Please."

"Alright."

Lucy spun around and shot Linde in the head.

The gunshot struck like thunder. Linde's skull exploded in a burst of blood and shattered bone and his body dropped like a sack of bricks. Ethan cried out and collapsed too, shielding his head with his arms.

Lucy holstered the gun and ran to the corpse. It cooled quickly under her hands as she rummaged through its pockets - she took a lighter, a personal first aid kit, an identity card. Her ears rang. She couldn't tell if it was the echo of the gunshot or the whiplash of sudden, absolute silence inside her mind.

All thoughts were gone. Her motions were mechanical, instinct pushing her through step after step of damage control. Double-check the kill. Search body. Take anything useful. Cover tracks.

Regroup.

She tore the jacket off of Linde's stiff shoulders and took the cotton bandanna from his neck. Then she ran back to Ethan's side.

"Get up," she barked, grabbing his good elbow. "There's no time."

He flinched at the touch. She held tight, but let his wide eyes search her face before she moved again. Terror fought with confusion in his expression, she could almost see his thoughts racing.

"Come on," she rushed him.

She pulled him up, slipping her shoulder under his arm just in case. But he managed to get his feet under him and stood uncertainly, shaking all over.

Lucy held Linde's jacket out to him. His face turned grey and he flicked a gaze towards the corpse in the snow. For fuck's sake, there was no time. She took off her own jacket and shoved it into his hand. "Put it on," she ordered.

She put the stolen jacket on herself. Then she drew her gun again and pointed out into the fog.

"We're going to the fence," she said. "Fast, but don't run. There'll be a service gate further left."

Ethan hesitated, drawing the jacket tight around himself.

"We have to go!" Lucy shouted.

He flinched again. But then he set his jaw tight and gave a small, trembling nod.

"Okay," he said, voice strained. "I'm right behind you."

[100percent-unimpressed]

High school au prompt, twin bed rps and soft dom Ray/Gerard for Wip asks please 🌸 Also I'm so intrigued by so many of these 👀

Thanks for asking about these! <3 I'm putting everything behind a cut because this might get a little long 😅

high school au prompt

This one was inspired by a tumblr post. I don't have a link to it but I have a screenshot here:

I read that and thought that sounded like highschool!Gerard, Frank, and Mikey respectively. It grew a bit more context with Frank and Gerard at the very beginning of a relationship, having a sleepover at Frank's and a first kiss when they're lying awake in the dark and can't sleep because they're a bit overwhelmed (or at least Gerard is). The next morning, they head over to the Ways' to hang out with Mikey, which is when the scene from the prompt happens. And curiously enough, Ray is already there in Mikey's room too... Also featuring: Gerard pretending to like soymilk (and being very bad at it) and disagreements about the right tooth-brushing technique.

Twin bed RPS

This is another one of the Polyam Day Ficlet Fest fics that I didn't finish in time. The 'RPS' doesn't mean 'real person slash' btw, it's Rock Paper Scissors. The prompt was: "Winning a sweepstakes vacation for a "family of four" and having to rock-paper-scissors for who sleeps in the twin beds when they get there," so obviously I had to write about the mcr OT4 doing this. Since they all share one brain cell, they didn't expect this to be a more traditional 'family of four' setup and the whole thing where there are two bedrooms and one of them has two twins is a surprise. Obviously they need to find a solution because everyone wants to sleep in the double bed. They're all into cuddling, okay? They can't sleep alone. Because I like to write Gerard as a bit of a diva, he suggests the others can each spend one night in the double bed with him, easy. Since no one else is happy with that, Ray suggests rock paper scissoring it out. Which is basically where the fic ends because I haven't simulated that yet, so I don't know what happens next. Also featuring: Frank being too short, Mikey trying to be a smartass, Gerard calling him out on being a slut (with an eye roll), and Ray agreeing with the slut thing (but kissing Mikey's cheek about it).

Soft Dom Ray_Gerard

This fic is so old I genuinely don't remember what it was inspired by. I remember it's one of the fics I've talked about on a discord server a bunch and then never finished it. I always feel bad about doing that. No wait! I think it was inspired by Gerard in that Danger Days black shirt with giant armholes actually. Where the right angle lets you see like half his chest. Idek, sometimes ideas happen xD It's pretty much what it says on the tin: subby Gerard and very soft dom Ray. It's mostly kink with some smut, involving some serious hardware, restraints, a lot of praise and gentle touches, and Gerard getting really deep into subspace. And pain play! :D Because seeing all that soft, pale skin made me crave fic where someone pinches Gerard until his brain shuts off and he turns into a clingy, needy mess and Ray seemed patient and dedicated enough to make that happen.

[iamanartichoke]

Do you have any tips for learning to love your work again? I keep getting into these states where I can't write anything because I hate it so much. It's been happening more lately and I dont know what to do

I’m really sorry you’re experiencing this, anon, because I know how it feels - I get stuck in the exact same rut and, in fact, I’m in one now in regards to Sea. I’ve written the first part of the first scene of the next chapter and it’s dealing with Dagny, my original child character, having something of a tantrum and Loki, Brunn, and Thor trying to figure it out. Each time I open up the document and re-read what I’ve written, I just start mentally cringing and feel like I can’t continue. 

It’s not really writer’s block. And it’s not necessarily a matter of it needing to be rewritten, either (though I have rewritten it a bunch). It’s more of a sense of, I created this whole plot that sounded great in theory but now that I’m starting to actually get into it, I feel crippled at the fear that the plot isn’t “good enough.” My brain goes, some fic writers are out here building amazing worlds and I’ve literally just stuck the group in the suburbs where they can deal with teenage angst … brilliant, really. 

It’s so frustrating and it’s a downward spiral - you start thinking everything that you’ve written sucks, or that it’s pointless, or that so many writers are better than you are, and so on, which makes it really, really hard to feel excited and motivated to keep writing what you set out to write. 

So, I feel this immensely. I don’t have any tried and true tips for overcoming it, unfortunately, but I do find that, for me, it’s usually a matter of going back to the start and asking myself, why did I start writing this? What do I love about these characters? Why is it important to me to tell this story? 

There’s not always going to be a clear-cut answer to those questions but being mindful of them kind of helps your brain process the things you like about the world you’re writing about in general. 

Sometimes you just need a break, too. I’ve told myself it’s okay if I need to step aside from Sea for a little while because I’d rather wait and update with a chapter I’m proud of than to try to slap something on the page that I don’t feel positive about so I can update faster. 

In the meantime, I’m trying to keep my brain focused on things that remind me of why I enjoy fic and fandom because it ultimately comes down to the love of the characters. Reading and writing meta, doing prompt fills, focusing on another WIP, making playlists and moodboards and so on - just letting yourself be creative in regards to your work even if it doesn’t amount to a finished product. It’s like taking a lunch break when you’re feeling tired and a bit stressed - you go and get a change of scenery, eat a sandwich, maybe read the newspaper, and then you go back to your desk ready to tackle the work again with a fresh perspective. 

Don’t be afraid to compliment yourself and acknowledge the validation you get, too. Re-read comments you’ve gotten on fics, or browse through the usernames of people who’ve left you kudos, maybe re-read a scene you’re particularly proud of and remind yourself that people are enjoying what you’re putting out there. 

You can do this with original fiction, too - ask yourself why you want to tell this story and then allow yourself the space to tell it. Sometimes that means doing things that might help get some of the juices flowing, like maybe working on a world-building outline while you take a break from the story itself. If you don’t have original fiction posted that you can re-read comments on, maybe give a copy of what you’ve got written to a friend and ask them to tell you what they like about it. Make it clear that you’re not looking for constructive criticism (assuming you aren’t) but, rather, that you’re feeling a little insecure and could use some moral support. Friends are usually happy to give you that. 

Also, read, read, read. Read a book, read a fic, re-read a fic. Reading what other people are putting out there is inspiring and motivating. Try not to compare yourself but instead acknowledge how much you enjoyed the thing and try to channel that feeling into your own work. I know sometimes I’ll read a really good story and just be bursting at the seams to try to work on my own thing again. It’s like wanting to take those feels and turn them into something constructive. 

This was really long but I hope there was something that was helpful to you. Again, I totally empathize and I think it’s something that all writers are bound to struggle with at one point or another. Just keep keeping on and do the best you can. Good luck