#flashbacks of violence

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Don't Lose Your Head.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[wishesofeternity]

My problem with The Dragon Prince is that while it preaches about "breaking the cycle" and "choosing love", it repeatedly does so in a way that echoes the age-old idea of telling victims to passively accept their lot in life and the injustices inflicted upon them while their perpetrators never have to acknowledge their wrongs or face consequences for their actions. This is the kind of narrative they follow on both a personal and systematic axis, and it's exactly why the show will always frustrate me.

[gravelsong]

What the fuck.

[aprilblossomgirl]

WINNY THANAWIN as JOM

HIGHSCHOOL FRENEMY | EP.05

[aftgficrec]

Hi! Thanks so much for doing this i have wanting to catch you open for so long!! How are you? I hope you have a good day!

I was wondering if there were any fics focused on neil and mary/neil and Nathan? Like his emotions, thoughts, etc, and the things he went through bcs of them/how they still affect him even now? Thank you so much in advance!

Our poor traumatized Neil! Yes, there is much to explore on this topic. -A

most previous asks lead to more recs:

angsty bad days for Neil here

Neil with ptsd here

more Neil with DID here

Neil cries, comforted by Andrew/foxes here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil’s scars 2 here

scars and healing here

Neil goes to therapy here 

Neil attempts suicide here

‘You're Wonderful’ here

‘Hold My Hand?,’ ‘I'll Still Solve You,’ and ‘Fear (but not of you)’ here

‘The Books of Baltimore’ series: ‘Ghost of You’ here, ‘Run to You’ here

‘the upswing’ (completed), ‘please (don't bite),’ ‘Will you love me for who I am…’ ‘To be safe,’ ‘Safe with him,’ and ‘i called your name ‘til the fever broke’ here 

‘my friends and I…,’ ‘Pasts Intertwined,’ ‘My Stomach is a Wasteland,’ ‘side effects may vary’ ‘Bad Apple,’ and ‘You Are So Much More Than Your Father's Son’ here 

‘Medicated rabbits don't run as fast’ here

‘Broken Symmetries’ and ‘No More Fucks To Give’ (updated) here

‘24 Floors’ here

‘A Quiet Little Seedling,’ ‘If I Knew You,’ and ‘Step By Step’ here

‘slow down (you crazy child),’ ‘Make a Home’ (updated), and ‘make me a promise’ here

‘Dreamed in red’ here

‘...Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here 

‘Nothing Mattered Until You’ here (jeanneil)

amputation or permanent leg damage:

Neil's legs (the fucked up edition) here and here

Neil dies/amputations in Baltimore here

‘La jetée n'est plus loin’ here

‘I’m More Than This Body of Mine’ here (completed)

‘Next to You’ here

‘Rare pair hell series’ part 9 here

‘Live for you / Stay for me’ here 

‘“I pick up daddies at the playground.”’ here

‘lie to me (for i do not wish to live the truth)’ here

‘White Hands’ and ‘If Neil, Then Fox’ here

‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘Under the kitchen lights…’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Lifelines’ here

‘does the dog die at the end’ here

you may also like:

Neil runs after joining the foxes 2 here

andreil on the run from the mafia here

soulmates who feel each other's pain here

Mary/Nathan's people come back here

Mary tries to take Neil from the foxes here

Neil kills Nathan here

tell me where i came from, what i will always be by geeseproblems [Rated G, 317 Words, Complete, 2021]

She lives in his body like no other.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: canonical character death

Down with Something by pawnofkings [Rated T, 3051 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil is sick, and he does his best to keep anyone from finding that out. He collapses in the middle of practice.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you asked for this by Anonymous [Rated M, 790 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Neil Josten and guilt

tw: implied major character death, tw: child abuse, tw: emotional abuse, tw: blood, tw: negative self talk

A reflection or a lie by ShadowDolphin [Rated G, 839 Words, Complete, 2022]

Sixteen year old Neil Josten has an identity crisis cuz depersonalization is a wonderful thing that exists and he doesn't feel real

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

i know you'll take me with you by lil_macaroon [Rated T, 6129 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

Neil has feelings that make him want to run. The only thing that keeps him at Palmetto State, hell, what keeps him in South Carolina, is the promise he made when Andrew asked him to stay three years ago. Unable to run, it all keeps building within him until one day, Andrew puts him in the car, and they go.

keep your head above the water (I can’t) by drewdrop44 [Rated T, 1156 Words, Complete, 2022]

The feeling of water moving over his head, swallowing him whole. Neil woke with a scream trapped in his mouth.

tw: drowning, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares 

It's a punch and a kiss, I'm trying to remember by beckdarkthrone [Not Rated, 18604 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

He has a hold on himself as Neil, as Abram, as Nathaniel.. Until he doesn't.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: dissociative disorder, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: internalized homphobia

NB: this author has a podcast with aftg-centric episodes; check out ‘So You Think You Like’ on spotify.

We're all Monsters Here by serene_chaos [Not Rated, 892 Words, Complete, 2022]

"I am part of the slaughter house. I feel that makes me more of a monster than you.” “Don’t look at me to absolve you.” Andrew flicks his cigarette towards Neil. Sparks landing inches from Neil’s hand. OR Neil doesn't think Andrew is a monster, but thinks he might be.

tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Who Am I to You? by serene_chaos [Rated M, 91907 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2024]

Neil Josten was born with violence in his blood and raised as a weapon to hide in plain sight. And then he finds himself surrounded by foxes and his usual survival tactics ruined by a five foot goalie. The whole mobster mafia problem isn’t helping either. -- Cue a Neil who cares a little less, a past raven, and potentially a little something more to live for.

tw: attempted rape, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: attempted nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks, tw: flashbacks, tw: homophobia, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

you will always be my favorite form of loving by something_boring [Rated T, 15831 Words, Complete, 2024]

5 times the Foxes tried to take care of Neil and 1 time they didn't have to.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: violence, tw: bullying

pain our brain has made by pipedreamaddy [Rated M, 16052 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2024]

Neil and his discovery that he has trauma-induced migraines because we all know how he neglects his health. Between everything else going on with him, a migraine seemed very minor to him. But now that he is in a healthy, safe, and loving environment where he is thriving, he can take care of himself—theoretically speaking, at least. Or the fic where Neil finally gets the healing that he needs.

tw: needles, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: flashbacks, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced murder

Keep Your Head Down and Don't Look Back by Capheira [Rated G, 775 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil has spent most of his life running from his past but perhaps this time he was a little too efficient.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Scars Like Stars by Kory_Rory [Rated T, 3429 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Neil deals with his trauma by biting himself while being completely oblivious to the harm he's putting himself through. But it's okay cause the foxes are there to help him :)

tw: self harm, tw: body dysmorphia, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: negative self talk, tw: flashbacks 

I’m not used to all this water, love (it’s true) by niicowo [Rated T, 1415 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil never thought anyone could ever love him. His parents never made him feel loved. But then again, what did he know about love? Nothing, he guessed. But one thing he did know was that Andrew loved him. And he just may love him too.

tw: past suicidal ideation, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Razor’s Edge by godless_writer [Rated T, 2178 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten, a caring, shit-talking, striker for the Palmetto State Foxes. Nathaniel Wesninski, a runner, and the son of The Butcher of Baltimore. When Neil thinks that Andrew is in danger after he walks into Kevin and Andrew fighting, his world turns red and those lines become blurred.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: dissociation

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: self harm, tw: violence

grin and bear it by wlwmlmsolidarity [Rated G, 1221 Words, Complete, 2024]

neil has chronic pain due to lola and tries to just ignore it and push through on a bad pain day, andrew forcefully makes him relax and accept help

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: chronic pain

NB: includes fanart by @clementinecloudz

scream and yell but i feel speechless by DepressedTerrestrial [Not Rated, 6770 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil had some unnecessary surgery done when he was younger. No one (including Neil) knows how to handle this except for Andrew (kind of).

tw: past medical abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Isn't he the monster by DarkD [Not Rated, 16033 Words, Complete, 2021]

On a day when Neil "wakes up" in a particularly bad mood, hearing anyone being cruel to Andrew becomes unbearable to the point that he is on the verge of an explosion.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: child abuse

Art

Day 19: bullet and Day 4: stitches art by @thefluffiestbird

Nathan was known for his extravagant parties and incredible entertainment art by @mac-monsters; twitter

Neil & Mary on the run edit by @romanovass

These ouches feel a little rough for a child on the run. comic by @softerstorms

“Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew” art by @rainbowd00dles 

There’s nowhere to run art by @/tryashaa on instagram

“I’m fine” - *literally dying* art by @/koldangrey_art on instagram

[literally-forever]

i was on my third rewatch when i noticed you can hear Charles pleading with his dad underneath the noises of the Devlin murders

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

I don't actually care about Karen or her kid, I just want to see Dream go feral. He deserves it, as a treat.

Goat Person In Armor: EW A MUPPET- GET THE FUCK AWAY FR- Goat Person In Armor: AAAAAA

[irlangelsdiary]

just a shoutout to any survivors <3

i see you.

i hear you.

i know its hard

i know some days are more difficult then others

but i also know you are strong, and brave.

i know you are going to get through this

i know you are going to heal

i know it will take one day at a time

but i know you will heal

we will heal

we will live without our trauma ruining us, we will love ourselves, empower ourselves and laugh and heal and one day it wont hurt as much.

one day.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Older Brothers

Author’s Note:This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous. I have borrowed Brother Roland and Brother Arnault from @kit-williams with permission and Brother Petras from @gal with permission. Thank you!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Warnings: abuse of power, flashback, minor character death, canon-typical violence

Summary: Cedric is introduced to a couple of firstborn black templars by Captain Ash’val. 

Cedric silently follows after Captain Ash’val, his mouth dry and concern clawing it’s way through the depths of his hearts. If… Or more accurately, when it’s found out that he helped four teenage baselines out of the base, rather than bringing them to holding or to one of his older Cousins or Imperial Fist Brothers, he had no doubt that he’s going to be in more trouble. But the young apothecary truly felt that he’d done the best he could in a rather fraught situation. Even if Cedric had merely taken the four teenagers to holding, the fact that they were there would have caught Captain Petras’ attention, and…

The Black Templar Chaplain had a firm and heavy hand when it came to punishment, and while Cedric would like to say that he didn’t think that the older Black Templar would permanently harm baseline humans who had been born and lived on Holy Terra… Especially the young and adventurously foolish - 

Cedric was half-way through checking the inventory of the tertiary infirmary aboard the Sigismund when his vox was pinged. One of his fellow Primaris brothers was in critical condition and needed immediate medical aid, or it was likely that he was going to die. Considering the fact that the Sigismund was weeks from the last engagement and they had taken minimal casualties, the ping had startled the young Apothecary.

Dutifully he set down the medication he’d been counting, grabbing an emergency kit and sprinted out of the medication room, hearing the medication room door close automatically behind him. 

It took him five long, agonizing minutes to reach the location of his critically injured Brother, who continued to get worse and further injured by something. He’d also made sure to grab his bolter - they were flying through the warp and if the Gellar Field had weakened where the Brother was and had allowed a daemon or other sort of warp-predator onto the ship, they were potentially in much greater trouble.

Cedric skidded to a halt, staring in confusion at the entrance to the cathedral room, which was where his dying brother was. It was one of the most holy and sanctified parts of the entire ship, how could an agent of Chaos bear to stand in a place so entirely lit by His Holy Light? The young apothecary mentally shook himself and charged into the room to see-

Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras standing over the prone body of Alois, one of Cedric’s fellow Primaris marines, sneering down at the young marine, who had been stripped of both armor and clothing, and knelt before the older marine, head bowed low and arms crossed behind his back. Petras was wielding an electro-whip in one hand, the other was wielding a charged powerfist. The chaplain’s voice was full of disdain and wrathful fire as he thundered loudly “YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR MANY SINS, AND BE MADE TO BLEED AND CRAWL IN PENANCE!”

Alois was barely breathing, and was weeping silently but freely, shi shoulders trembling. He didn’t so much as flinch as Petras whipped him across the face, carving another bloody stripe from the younger marine’s body. 

The primaris Marine did go flying over the pathway between the metal pews, sailing towards where Cedric stood transfixed as Petras punched Alois square in the chest with his charged powerfist, a low wheeze of pain leaving Alois as the blow struck, and when he landed with a heavy, meaty thud on the metal plating of the deck.

The sound shook Cedric out of his shock-stillness as he rushed over to his brother’s side, his vitals worsening further. “H-Honorable B-Brother Chaplain Captain, this M-marine’s vital signs are d-dangerously close to death. M-May I suggest that you s-stay your h-hand of punishment until he is recovered enough to c-continue to endure the… The punishment without r-risk of dying?” Cedric asked, as his hands flew over his brother’s body, checking where Alois was most critically injured as he started to administer the life-saving medications and treatments that the other primaris would need in order to survive the brutal beating he’d endured.

“And what if I tell you that I have decided that he is Unfit to continue to serve as an Astartes, little Apothecary? What if I told you that I have decided that he should be culled for his weaknesses, for his sins?” Petras sneered, stalking down the walkway towards both primaris marines. 

Cedric didn’t dare take his eyes off of his patient, knowing that Captain Petras in particular saw direct eye-contact from an aspirant or a squire as a punishable offense unless he ordered them to look at him directly. “Th-there is a p-proper procedure for that, H-Honorable Chaplain Captain, that a-allows the Apothecarion to harvest certain useful critical organs from the to-be-culled marine so that those organs may be properly r-recycled sir.” He hated the fact that his voice was trembling, but was glad that his hands were stone-steady as he continued to tend to his barely conscious and badly injured Brother. 

Cedric mentally shook himself as he desperately tried to ground himself in the here and now. He knew of over a dozen Primaris Brothers who had been killed by the infamous temper of Chaplain Captain Petras and that was before he’d… Before he’d killed his own apprentice, Ramiel and had openly declared that he found all Primaris Marines to be heretical abominations unworthy of existence. He had reported the deaths of those primaris marines and who they had been kill-culled by to his mentor, who had responded by restricting Cedric’s movements on the Sigismund alone more and more until the near-schism had almost torn the Black Templar chapter apart. 

Cedric had never been able to save any of them, their injuries too severe and Petras’ orders absolute. The fact that Ramiel had actually been sent to Ancient Terra half-dead instead of actually dying was… Surely that had been an intervention by the God Emperor, as Cedric had been within hailing range and had been able to actually save Ramiel with proper supplies and firstborn brothers uninterested in seeing a Primaris brother slowly bleed out to death at their boots. 

Part of him silently hoped that he would be able to find more of his thought-dead primaris brothers having also been spared by Him on Terra and be able to patch them u properly, allow them to heal and prove themselves as worthy Astartes. 

Shit, Captain Ash’val was talking! Better pay attention. Cedric mentally reviewed what his ears had been hearing while his mind wallowed in past agonies. 

“We’ve been able to find a couple of older Black Templars who have expressed a desire to meet with you. Both of them also have bonds, and have been on Ancient Terra for at least a couple of years, if not longer.” Ash’val explained, a small smile appearing on the Salamander’s face. “You’ll be meeting them in the base, in one of the public rooms. They should be here relatively soon.”

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded with an obedient nod, making sure to stand in a spot that wouldn’t impede the foot traffic in the room. He briefly checked to make sure that the civvie clothes he was wearing was clean and in good condition. He felt woefully underdressed for meeting any of his older brothers, with no armor and not even a simple weapon on his belt… But he hoped that they would forgive him for that, as it wasn’t as if he’d wanted to be taken to Ancient Terra in his night clothes. 

The young apothecary immediately spotted the older Templar as he walked into the room, armor shining in the artificial light of the room. He was holding something in one of his hands, although what it might be, Cedric could only guess. The style of the other’s armor put his home timeline likely in the mid M-40s. Well before the rollout of the Primaris Marines. He nearly startled when the older Brother approached and spoke, offering him the sourdough loaf. “Thank you sir.” He murmured. It was slightly warm to the touch and it smelled delicious. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with the sourdough loaf, and would either be told or ask Pyrus later. 

Cedric’s eyes went huge as one of the Emperor’s Champions walked over to the two of them. He could barely breathe, awed and incredibly intimidated as the well-known and revered Champion Arnault Wach walked over and actually talked! To him and Brother Roland! Cedric felt his ears go warm at the light call out of him being embarrassingly unarmed unarmored and managed not to squeak as he murmured a meek “Yes sir.”

The young apothecary briefly lost the thread of the conversation - especially when the two older brothers switched to one of the local languages - one he was unfamiliar with. But Cedric was well aware of the Rule among Black Templars that younger brothers were not to speak unless spoken to, and stayed quiet, still holding the loaf of sourdough uncertainly in his hands. 

The Emperor’s Champion looked at Cedric directly again, which froze the air in all three of Cedric’s lungs. It took him a moment to process what Arnault asked of him. 

His… Favorite food? “N…Nutrient paste?” The young apothecary offered, deeply confused. Ration bars were drier and tended to be chalky. Nutrient paste could be heated up and had a couple of different flavors to them. Not that he had a definite preference. 

Then Brother Roland asked “Have you been allowed out?” clearly referring to the base.

Cedric shuffled his feet a little. He refused to apologize for attacking the Slaaneshi bastard and didn’t think either of them would punish him for following his training… But with him on-base, anything was possible “No sir… I attacked a patient.” 

He would be happy to explain the full details of what happened, but a look of understanding passed between the Emperor’s Champion and the Battle Brother as they said together “Right, unbonded.” 

Was there really such a difference between bonded and unbonded Black Templars? Just what all was involved with these bonds? Cedric had tried to ask before, but the explanations he got were confusing and didn’t make much sense… They also boiled down to you’ll understand when you get a Bond yourself. 

“Well, little battle brother, you’ve got Brother Roland and myself, Brother Arnault in the area to keep you company.” The Emperor’s Champion declared, a smile on the older brother’s face “Now let’s enjoy the brot that Bruder Roland brought.” He ordered, silently gesturing for Cedric to follow him.

Cedric nodded and followed after the two firstborn Black Templars, staying a respectful two and a half steps behind the others as he had been taught, surprised and honored beyond words when Brother Roland and Brother Arnault invited him to walk alongside them, as if they were equals. “I… I haven’t had sourdough bread before, sir.” The young apothecary admitted shyly, holding the item in his hands “How do we enjoy it? It smells delicious.”

“Have… Have you never had brot before? How long have you been on Ancient Terra?” Brother Roland asked, blinking a little in surprise. 

“About six months or so? The Older Brothers and Cousins have been keeping me busy in the base. Occasionally they supplement my meals with local fruits and vegetables, which has been a fascinating experience so far, sirs!” Cedric answered earnestly, careful not to look either of them directly in the eye. He didn’t want to seem as if he was challenging either one of them.

“What have you tried? What have you enjoyed most? Brot can be enjoyed a number of ways, but here, hand the brot over and I’ll tear off chunks for each of us to eat.” Roland instructed Cedric, who immediately complied.

The bread had a more intense scent when it was torn open, and Cedric took a cautious bite. The savory-tangy flavors were almost overwhelming to his senses, but in a very good way. He found that he devoured the piece of sourdough within seconds “This is really tasty, sir! Thank you for bringing it. I very much liked the pink apples and the little green tree-vegetables. They have a subtle earthy taste and take all kinds of spices really well.” 

Both Arnault and Roland smiled in response to Cedric’s enthusiasm, as the two lead him on a tour of the city, pointing out places that they liked to visit, as well as chatting about the different kinds of food that they liked - and disliked. Cedric listened closely to their words, doing his best to retain everything they told him, honored and delighted to spend time with two of his firstborn brother templars. The Imperial Fists, Ultramarines and Salamanders were almost distressingly kind, but it really wasn’t the same. 

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Over the Edge" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic (part 1/3)

Rembrandt's recovery after a fight gone wrong is going slower than she likes. While she struggles to get back to her old self, the world marches on past her.

This is a continuation work to my other fic titled "Don't Let Anything Happen To Her." Read that if you haven't yet or this one will not make any sense. Enjoy!

--------

Cochise lifted Rembrandt’s arm up from her side. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” Rembrandt mumbled.

She lifted her arm higher until it was level with her shoulder. “How about this?”

“That hurts.”

“Alright.” Cochise dropped her arm and leaned back where she sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Have you been wearing the knee brace I gave you?”

“Yes, for the tenth time, I’ve been wearing the brace.”

Rembrandt had, in fact, not been wearing the brace.

It had been three weeks since she’d been thrown off a fire escape on a tagging mission with Mercy. Well, three weeks since she woke up after it. She barely remembered that night. It came to her in brief flashes and fleeting nightmares she couldn’t decipher. She remembered running, remembered Mercy’s hand in hers, the weightlessness as she went over the edge. She remembered the sky above her when she hit the ground. Everything after was fuzzy, blurred by pain and terror, coming in and out with glimpses of faces and muffled voices in between all the agony. 

Cochise let her take off the sling after week two of being tied up in it. The knee brace had to stay on longer. She was allowed to leave it off at home but “not while you’re out walking around,” as if Rembrandt had been able to go anywhere but between apartments since that night. She hated the stupid thing. It was clunky and annoying and the way her pant leg bunched up around it irritated her. But no matter how many times she asked if she could just ice her knee and take it easy, Cochise insisted, and she had Cleon and Ajax backing her up so Rembrandt had no choice but to follow orders.

Maybe if it helped with the pain, she could get over it, but it didn’t. Nothing did. It didn’t matter how many painkillers she popped or how drunk she got. The dull, pulsing ache in her leg and shoulder was ever present, distracting her through the day and keeping her up at night. Most of the bruises had faded to ugly yellowish green blotches by then, but even they still hurt if she twisted wrong or bumped into something.

The scars were the worst part. The other Warriors let her get drunk when Cochise removed her stitches, not because it necessarily hurt, but because of how fucking uncomfortable it was. Rembrandt held Ajax’s hand in a death grip and screwed her eyes shut as she felt the pull of every single thread exiting her skin. The scar on her head she could mostly forget about, hiding it beneath her bangs and reminding herself to not touch it. The scars on her torso were a different story. 

She caught sight of them after getting out of the shower one day. Twisting in front of the mirror, she traced the long, jagged, angry red strip that carved its way from her hip bone to the bottom of her ribcage. Her back looked like someone had wildly taken a knife to it, crisscrossed with a patchwork of deep slashes and puncture wounds that she’d just barely been allowed to keep uncovered. 

She remembered the intense, stabbing pain when she hit the ground. She remembered something sharp dug into her flesh and the warmth of her blood soaking her shirt. The night sky. Mercy’s voice. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t-!

Ajax had found her with her arms braced against the edge of the sink, head hanging, face blank but with tears pouring from her eyes. She wrapped her in a towel and just held her for a long time before she was lucid enough to get dressed. She’d been exclusively wearing flannels and jerseys stolen from Ajax, anything loose that buttoned or zipped because she couldn’t lift her stupid fucking arm high enough to put a shirt over her head.

Back in present day, Cochise handed Rembrandt a book titled “An Introduction to Physical Therapy.”

“I don’t know much about it but this has good advice,” she said. “I marked the parts that talk about shoulder dislocations and knee sprains and highlighted the exercises I want you to do. You might need someone to help you with some of the stretches, so have Ajax do them with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rembrandt said quietly. “I’ll tell her.”

“How are you feeling overall?”

“Shitty.”

“Shitty how?”

“Shitty like I got thrown off a fire escape and landed on broken glass. Everything still hurts.”

“Is there a new type of pain or it just hasn’t gotten better yet?”

“It’s not any better. The only thing better is I can finally talk without almost passing out because my ribs hurt so bad.”

“Well, you know, that means you didn’t puncture a lung so that’s good.” Cochise moved to sit beside her on the couch and squeezed her hand. “It sucks and I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s going to hurt for a while. I’m not being dramatic when I say it’s a miracle you didn’t break your neck. This was honestly the best outcome we coulda hoped for.”

“Best outcome would’ve been not getting thrown off a building,” Rembrandt scoffed.

“You know what I mean. Just keep using the brace, take ibuprofen, and do the physical therapy and it’ll get better. Promise.” 

The front door opened. In walked Ajax and Cleon, whispering between themselves. Their conversation cut as they crossed the threshold so Rembrandt couldn’t discern the topic, but Cleon’s eye twitched with severe irritation and Ajax wore a scrunched up expression that Rembrandt knew was her “I’m pissed but can’t cuss out my leader” face. Rembrandt honestly did not want to know what the issue was now. 

Ajax sat beside Rembrandt opposite Cochise and kissed her temple before sinking back into the couch, sulking with her hands in her pockets. Cleon sat in the armchair across from the three of them wearing a similarly upset expression. Rembrandt looked between them as cold anxiety blossomed in her chest.

“Rembrandt,” Cleon said after a moment, “I’m sending you on a tagging mission tomorrow night.”

“What?” said Cochise. “She can’t-”

Cleon raised a hand. Cochise silenced herself so sharply that Rembrandt was acutely reminded of just how long Cochise had been under their leader’s command. “Those rich punks from Seagate have apparently forgotten what the word ‘territory’ means,” Cleon continued. “I sent some of the new recruits to pinpoint the blocks they’re encroaching on. I want to double the tags through there to remind them to stay behind their gate.”

“Okay,” Rembrandt said slowly. “I can find a way to get up somewhere.”

“You’re not climbing anywhere.”

“You want me to keep my tags low?”

“You’re not tagging. You’re supervising.”

“What?!”

Rembrandt jumped to her feet, only to immediately drop back to the couch as white hot pain shot through her leg. It was not the first time she’d done that. Any explosive movement in her knee landed her right on her ass. That meant no climbing, no running, no doing fucking anything that made her a good tagger and a useful member of the Warriors.

Cleon pointed at her leg. “That’s exactly why. Business has to continue but I’m not going to allow you to make yourself worse because I let you do something you weren’t ready for.”

“But I am ready.”

“Physically ready. Which you obviously are not.”

“I can-”

“Put your arm above your head.”

That was mean. Cleon knew she couldn’t, which was exactly the point. Rembrandt turned to Ajax, looking for a bit of support, but she didn’t find it. Ajax just bounced her leg impatiently and kept her eyes on the floor.

Rembrandt looked at Cleon. “You’re sending me, your tagger, on a tagging mission, but you won’t let me tag?”

“It’s just for now.”

“How long is ‘for now?’”

“Until you’re better.”

“Who’s gonna tag? Ajax?”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Ajax said defensively.

“Mercy,” said Cleon. 

Rembrandt’s throat tightened. She held no ill will towards Mercy. Truly, she didn’t. Not one bit. Mercy was the only reason she got out alive that night. But… But Rembrandt was the tagger. Rembrandt had been the tagger from day one and now Cleon was sending their newest recruit to take over her job because - what? She wasn’t as fast as she used to be? She couldn’t reach far enough? She could tag just fine! Why was Mercy doing her job for her!

Out of the corner of her eye, Rembrandt watched Ajax sink further into the couch. No way in hell Ajax had agreed to this. No one trusted her to be in the same room as Mercy without Swan and at least Cowgirl there with them. 

“Swan and Ajax will be with you two,” Cleon went on as if she could read Rembrandt’s mind. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened. Honestly, I’d come with, but Masai and I are still figuring out exactly how to handle the Princes and neither of us can really afford to be away from the phone at the moment.”

Rembrandt bristled at the name of the gang who attacked them. She saw a flash of purple and a poorly embroidered crown. Rough hands grabbing her collar. The garish jacket rapidly fading from view as she plummeted-

“Rembrandt!” 

Ajax was shaking her, hand tight around her wrist. She blinked back into her body. Lifting a hand to her face, she found her cheek wet with tears. She looked up to see everyone staring at her, leaning in where they sat with expressions of confused worry. The only one who didn’t look completely weirded out was Ajax. 

Ajax knew exactly what it was, but Rembrandt had made her promise not to tell. She didn’t need anyone thinking she was more fragile than they already did. 

“Rem, honey, don’t be upset,” said Cleon gently. “It’s just for now. Once you’re better, it’ll go back to normal.”

“No, it’s… it’s not that. I’m fine.” Rembrandt shook her head to clear it. “Does Mercy know she’s doing this?”

“Yeah, I told her.” 

“And Swan?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, fine. Whatever. I’ll teach her the tag.”

On the walk back to their apartment, Rembrandt refused to look at Ajax. She still held onto her arm but only because she kept tripping from the stupid brace not letting her fully bend her knee. Ajax kept glancing down at her, catching her when she stumbled, being there for her to lean on like always but waiting for her to start any conversation. Rembrandt hated it. She didn’t like starting conversations. Ajax was the one who talked and Rembrandt chimed in or played off of her, not the other way around. 

Rembrandt didn’t speak until they were in the apartment and getting ready for bed. “I can’t believe you fucking agreed to this,” she snapped as she struggled to pull on a tank top.

“I didn’t,” Ajax said from her spot on the bed. She looked up from the physical therapy book she held in her lap. “Do you want help?”

“No. I got it. I’m fine.”

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

“You’re seriously okay with Mercy taking over my tagging work?”

“I wanted to go kick the shit out of those Seagate bitches so bad they’d never go past their gates again. Cleon insisted we tag to send our message instead. If I had it my way, you wouldn’t be doing this at all. You think I want to be out with Swan and Mercy?”

“You aren’t going to start a fight with them, are you?”

“No, I’m not going to start a fight! I’m fine being around them,” Ajax protested. Rembrandt shot her a look over her shoulder. “I’m mostly fine being around them. I don’t want to punch either of them in the face, is that good enough?”

“Yeah, that’s good enough.” Rembrandt sat beside Ajax on the bed, leaning her head on her shoulder. Ajax put her arms around her and held her close. “I could tag just fine if she would let me.”

“You’re recovering. Just let yourself get better.” 

“I am better.”

Ajax sighed. She didn’t try to argue. Planting a quick kiss on Rembrandt’s cheek, she got up to turn off the lights before laying down beside her and pulling the covers over them both. Rembrandt laid on her side, keeping pressure off her hurt shoulder like Cochise said. She couldn’t bear to sleep on her back. Every time she tried, the ceiling morphed into the night sky and she felt the stabbing pain through every single scar. Ajax settled in behind her, curling around her and looping an arm around her waist. She rested her forehead against the top of Rembrandt’s spine. 

“I wish you would just let yourself rest,” she whispered, her breath warm across the back of Rembrandt’s neck.

“I hate this feeling,” Rembrandt muttered. “I can’t do shit.”

“You’ll get better soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks.”

Ajax just held her tighter.

The next morning, Rembrandt stood with Mercy in the alley next to Cleon’s building. She laid out a couple sheets of cardboard pulled from the recycling and handed Mercy a paint can and a mask.

Mercy rarely looked at her anymore. Not fully. She would only give quick glances here and there, trying to hide the fact that they were aimed at her knee or her shoulder or the scar on her forehead when the wind blew her bangs out of place. Rembrandt knew she still blamed herself for what happened. She wore the guilt splattered across her face like blood.

After they talked the day Rembrandt woke up, she thought they were cool. She thought Mercy was okay. But during that first week, when Cleon insisted Rembrandt stay at her apartment to keep an eye on her, she would walk by their bedroom late at night and hear Mercy crying.

Grabbing her own paint can, Rembrandt sprayed a small version of the Warriors tag in the corner of a sheet of cardboard. “Copy that,” she said. Mercy did. Well, she tried. “No, move with your whole arm. Don’t flick your wrist like that.”

“I’ve seen you do that,” Mercy said, frowning.

“When I’m painting. You need strong, clean lines when you’re tagging.”

“I thought tagging was painting.”

“No, it’s-” Rembrandt took a deep breath and shifted her weight off her bad leg. “They’re different. Give me the can, let me show you again.”

She showed Mercy the tag again. She made Mercy copy the tag again. And again. And again. And again until she truthfully did have it down to an acceptable degree, but Rembrandt couldn’t look at any tag that wasn’t her own without finding fault in it. She could see Mercy growing more and more self-conscious every time she made her repeat the tag. Eventually she came around and took pity on the girl because she could admit she was being mean at that point, but in her defense, this was her job. Her tag that she designed. And now Cleon wanted her to-!

No. No. This was not Mercy’s fault. She would not be mad at the girl who got her out of that night alive because Cleon was keeping her benched.

While Mercy threw out the painted cardboard, Rembrandt sat on a busted milk crate to smoke. Mercy leaned against the wall beside her. She wordlessly passed her a cigarette.

“Hey,” Mercy said after a moment, “I’m sorry. I know you’re not happy about this.”

“I’m fine,” Rembrandt said curtly. “I get why Cleon wants you to do it. She’s still figuring out exactly where you fit. She does it with everyone.”

“I thought Ajax recruited you specifically to be a tagger?” 

Rembrandt gritted her teeth and stubbed out her cigarette. “She did.”

Rembrandt dreaded going out that night. She and Ajax met Swan and Mercy outside their apartment. Mercy wore her new vest that Cleon had finally finished making for her. Rembrandt had the very beginning of a new vest, only a few spikes and her tag across the back, missing all the scuffs and charms and paint stains that she’d gained over the years. The fall had destroyed her old one to the point where it was completely unwearable.

Ajax and Mercy stood far away from each other, neither of them quite over what happened yet, but Mercy could finally look at Ajax again and Ajax wasn’t trying to beat the hell out of Mercy anymore. Swan pulled Rembrandt into a gentle, lingering hug. Rembrandt buried her face against Swan’s chest.

“How are you feeling?” Swan asked.

“I’m fine,” said Rembrandt, which seemed to be the only answer she had for that question anymore. “Let’s do this.”

Ajax and Rembrandt walked behind Swan and Mercy. Rembrandt didn’t want them to see her stumbling, didn’t want them to see how she held onto Ajax just to keep herself upright. It was a long walk to the edge of Coney Island. When they reached the building Cleon wanted double-tagged, the Warriors stood in a line beneath the fire escape, looking up over the brick face. Rembrandt couldn’t look for long; she just kept seeing herself hanging over the edge of the railing. Ajax discreetly took her hand.

“Alright,” Rembrandt said, looking over at Mercy. “Go to the top of the fire escape to the ladder that goes to the roof. Lean out as far as you can and spray the tag.”

“How far do you go?” Mercy asked.

“Mercy, I love you,” Swan said under her breath, “but you can’t go as far as Rem can.”

Of course, she couldn’t! No one could! So why wasn’t Rembrandt doing it!

Instead of screaming that to the sky, Rembrandt said, “Just reach as far as you can.”

Ajax had a few inches of height on Swan and just a little more raw muscle, so she had to boost Mercy up to the ladder of the fire escape. Rembrandt thought of her first mission years and years ago, how Ajax’s strong hands felt on her waist as she lifted her, and for some reason the sight of Ajax helping Mercy do her job sent a fiery bloom of jealousy ripping through her chest. Pursing her lips, she put her hood up and glared at the sidewalk.

Swan put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not forever,” she mumbled.

Rembrandt glanced up at Mercy climbing the fire escape. “I know.” She raised her voice. “Mercy! Tag it there!” 

She watched Mercy reach out with the can and completely miss the wall. She held the can wrong, the nozzle outwards, and ended up spraying her hand and the top of a window. Rembrandt bit back a growl of frustration as Mercy fumbled the can and nearly dropped it. She recovered well enough and managed to correctly spray the tag to where Rembrandt could admit it looked official. 

Mercy was all smiles when she came down. Rembrandt plastered a smile of her own across her face, praying it didn’t look too forced. She was proud of Mercy - really, she was - but this whole experience left such a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn’t think of much else. 

Mercy ran right up to her. “Good, right?” she asked. “That works?”

“Yeah,” said Rembrandt. “You did great. Ready for the next one?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

Swan smiled as she coaxed Mercy down the street towards the next building. “Don’t drop the spray paint this time.”

Rembrandt couldn’t hear Mercy’s indignant comeback over the ringing in her ears. The world rocked. 

The night sky. The taste of blood. Stabbing pain in her side-

Ajax touched her arm. “Rem?”

“I’m fine.” 

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

it will never stop being funny to me that shadow is a great-uncle. imagine being put in stasis for fifty years and waking up to find that your like, six year old uncle you never met has now made like at least one sapient robot child while you were on ice and at least three more after and now you’ve got a fucking cube calling you grunkle shadow.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heard you were talking shit about Shijie

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[mommybookwyrm]

Play Me A Song Of Longing On Your Heartstrings | by Mommybookwyrm

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/Wyll

Tags/warnings: Past Rape/Non-con | Past Abuse | Canon-Typical Violence | Slow Burn | Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate) | Astarion Being Astarion (Baldur's Gate) | Astarion is Bad at Feelings (Baldur's Gate) | Traumatized Astarion (Baldur's Gate) | Astarion Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate) | Devil Wyll (Baldur's Gate) | Wyll Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate) | Canon-Typical Astarion Violence (Baldur's Gate) | Canon-Typical Astarion Consent Issues (Baldur's Gate) | Flashbacks | no beta we die like cazador | Drow Tav (Baldur's Gate) | Druid Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Summary:

Wyll splashed water on his face and neck, sighing with relief as the cool liquid washed away the grime and sweat of their ordeal. He turned to Astarion with a grin, droplets clinging to his dark skin like jewels. "You're right, this is heavenly," Wyll said, running his hands over his hair. "Though you look like a man who is used to more sophisticated pleasures. " Astarion raised an eyebrow, unsure if Wyll was flirting or simply making conversation. He decided to play it safe. "I've had my share of pleasures, yes. Though today has been... an exception." Wyll's expression softened. "Aye, it's been a hell of a day for all of us. But we're alive, and that's something to celebrate don’t you think?”

Astarion had long given up on praying to the gods. It should come as no surprise to him then, that they are all just pieces for the divine to move about for their own entertainment.

Prologue: A Prayer is Heard

Chapter One: The Beach

Before: The Master’s Rules

Chapter Two: The Ruins

[when-wax-wings-melt]

said it once i will say it fucking again. flashback fitz was the most accurate version of fitz there ever was. he was sweet he was angry he was frustrated he was patient he was confident he was violent he never trusted alvar again he trusted sophie more than anyone (nearly unhealthily). i miss him. bring him back. he was so unapologetically kind generous and deeply broken. I MISS HIM.

[pitypossession]

What's your favorite Billdip dynamic?

this is suuuch a hard question BUT generally I love predator/prey Billdip! I’m typically not a redemption guy i like manipulation and I love bill “i can make him worse mentally and morally” cipher

[aftgficrec]

Hi do you guys know of any fics where neil ends up in Easthaven (or similar) because years of ignoring his trauma and refusing Bee finally catches up with him and it’s andreil focused?

There’s plenty about Neil and his mental health around, but most fics where Neil is in Easthaven or a similar institution are AUs. We’ve got some postcanon fics for you here where Neil has neglected his mental health to such a degree that the consequences are fairly disastrous (even though often he finally agrees to go to therapy). So, beware of the trigger warnings! - S

Also see these previous recs:

(see top of posts for further recs)

Neil & Bee here 

Neil goes to therapy here

Neil attempts suicide here

You might also like…

Andreil and eating disorders here

Andreil meet in Easthaven here

Neil with depression/mental illness here

Neil with anxiety attacks here

Some more fics featuring Neil struggling with his mental health/seeking help:

‘cracked but not smashed’ here

‘I No Longer Feel Things (I Know I Should)’ (since updated) and ‘I can feel you under my skin’ here

‘I'm Not Okay (I Promise)’ here

‘yes, I’m still trying’ here

I feel the burden now (it’s weighing down my soul) by Loverz_rock [Not Rated, 3238 words, complete, 2024]

Neil broke away from Andrew’s gaze to stare out the window. “Will you keep me from killing myself? Ever since you gave me a key and told me to stay I’ve been fighting to do just that. But I don’t have it in me to do it any longer. I don’t know how to live now that I’m allowed to.” Neil let his fingers run through his hair as he returned his gaze to the blond. Andrew’s hand twitched to reach out. Instead he took a long drag from his cigarette, focusing on letting the smoke out. “Don’t ask for stupid things. I’m not going to make a deal about that” Neil didn’t push, he just stood there staring at Andrew while inhaling the smoke to keep him grounded. “I’m already doing that, idiot.” Or: Neil is sinking down a dark place during his last year of college, but Andrew is there to catch him.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd

I Am A Forest Fire by hetheylecter [Rated M, 3558 words, complete, 2024]

Everyone was staring at him, he knew. They were thinking how stupid he was for all this. He was Neil Josten. He was Nathaniel fucking Wesninski. He should not be breaking down over a few friends family moving on with their lives.  or. it’s neil’s senior year. he’s totally coping.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: ptsd, tw: vomit, tw: dissociation, tw: blood

Neil Josten is Not Fine by the_greater_grief [Rated T, 3365 words, complete, Aftg Then & Never 2024]

After weeks of nightmares and an embarrassing discovery, Neil finally decides to pay Betsy a visit.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nightmares, tw: bedwetting

i'll take anything you have (if you could throw me a line) by ifitmeanslosingyou [Rated M, 923 words, complete, 2024]

the sunrise can be pretty, neil thinks, but instead of the pinks and oranges washing him with ease, neil can’t help the panic at the thought that he’s been up here for longer than he planned to he wonders if anyone has even realized he left the dorms in the first place, wonders if andrew even looked when neil left the bedroom, wonders if he gave up, wonders if he finally came to his senses and realized neil was more trouble than he’s worth wonders if the roof of the court is high enough that the fall would kill him

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm

help, I've lost myself again (but I remember you) by abitsillygoofy [Not Rated, 5320 words, complete, 2024]

“Neil we have to talk about it,” Betsy said “I don’t think so” Neil replied “Nope, not happening” He popped the p at the end trying to make the woman mad at him. “You just tried to kill yourself, so I think we have to have this talk” Betsy didn’t seem bothered by his act and kept her nice, neutral facial expression, but unlike on his session looked worried too. or Neil wakes up in the hospital after his suicide attempt and has to face what he did.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood

I Quit Talking Again, I Know You're Still Listening by Hyalophagia [Not Rated, 36085 words, complete, 2024]

"Andrew didn’t know how to stop something from breaking; he’d nearly died trying. But Neil had taught him it was possible to put the broken pieces back together, and he was determined to return the favour." Neil was only a freshman and a rookie when he made his deal with Ichirou. He hadn't stopped to consider how much pressure he was putting on himself; he'd lived in danger his entire life and was used to fighting to stay alive. He'd be fine. He'd always been fine and he always would be. Right?

tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: disordered eating, tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks

hand. cheek. trigger. bang. by tae_doelee [Rated T, 3980 words, incomplete, last updated March 2022]

(NB: fic is marked as complete, but the storyline is left unfinished)

Neils struggle with depression post-AFTG, things have changed but maybe not as much as he thought.

tw: ptsd, tw: depression, tw: dissociation

You Still have me by Marydu [Rated G, 3826 words, complete, 2022]

Neil is missing again Andrew is worried Where is Neil? What the hell is going on? Andrew is furious that he doesn't know

tw: dissociation, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: minor character death

bullet point fic/headcanon by nightquills [Rated T, collection, complete, 2021]

Chapter 8: out of touch

neil knew that things couldn’t stay the same forever. he knew he and his foxes, his friends, his family would be leaving palmetto soon to start the rest of their lives. 

tw: depression, tw: dissociation

Choices by Tori_Scribbles [Rated T, 3306 words, complete, 2019]

Part 6 of In A Foxes Hole

“You walked into Evermore, knowing full well what they were going to do to you. You left with your father’s people not expecting to come back out alive. But Betsy is what you’re terrified of?”

tw: anxiety, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Neil & therapy by @queer-lovebot [tumblr, 2023]

Knowing Neil, he isn’t getting therapy post-canon for at Least 5 years. He is, however, extremely curious about the effects it has on literally all the other Foxes.

AU-setting:

you make your hand a gun (you lie to everyone) by superache208 [Rated T, 13740 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2025]

When Andrew arrives at the Columbia Psychiatric Hospital, he feels nothing but numb. That is until he meets his roommate Neil. Neil has been in the hospital for two weeks, and he's determined to escape. Unless someone gives him a reason to stay. Or: where Neil and Andrew first meet in a Psychiatric Hospital before ever meeting the Foxes and slowly learn to heal.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: anxiety, tw: ptsd, tw: eating disorders, tw: paranoia

more than enough by drunk_poet [Rated M, 6114 words, complete, 2024]

In the shadows of a quiet mental hospital, two broken men find themselves adrift in a world that doesn’t see them. Andrew Minyard hides behind silence, having long forgotten how to connect with anyone. Neil Josten wears his scars like armor, each one a piece of his fractured past. Neither of them expects more than solitude within these walls. But when their paths cross in the silence of an empty room, something unexpected stirs—an understanding, a shared darkness that only they can see in each other. Drawn together by wounds that refuse to heal, they begin to find solace in each other's presence, their guarded hearts slowly thawing in moments of quiet connection. Their bond is fragile, threatened by the very ghosts that brought them here, yet they find themselves clinging to it, both terrified and mesmerized by the possibility of love in the unlikeliest of places.

tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: panic attacks

5 Meter Walls | 5 Meter Mauern by jetblackromance [Rated E, 7570 words, complete, 2024]

Teen Neil and teen Andrew meet in a psychiatric ward. Neil’s mom died at the beach after an encounter with Neil's father's men. Neil's own wounds were more severe than he had thought. He passed out in a motel and the owner called child services on him. They found him just in time and called an ambulance. After a few weeks in the hospital, they decided a stay at the psychiatric ward would be best for him. Andrew was staying with Cass and Richard. He had accepted that he had to deal with Drake if he wanted to stay with Cass. He found his own way to cope with it. Usually he hid it well enough; no one but Drake knew about it, the armbands covered the evidence. But one day, Cass saw and signed him up for an eight week long stay at a psychiatric ward.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: scars

Sunrise by hetheylecter [Rated M, 4459 words, complete, 2024]

Freedom was… not what Neil was expecting. It wasn’t as… freeing?  or. neil navigates the hell that is middle school, mental health, and freedom.

tw: self harm, tw: suicide attempt, tw: eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced bullying

Butchered Bloodline by starrycassi [Rated M, 26472 words, incomplete, last updated Oct 2024]

Nathaniel's life is pretty boring. He has been a long-term patient in a mental facility for the last half of a decade, after all, so there aren't that many options to entertain oneself with. That is until Andrew Minyard breaks into his life — along with a serial killer, a chance to rebuild his life and a truth for truth deal. Or the one where after being captured along with his father, Nathaniel attempts to keep up with his own existence.

tw: graphic descriptions of violence, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced dismemberment, tw: cannibalism, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture

Baby, We're Both Crazy by Detective4 [Not Rated, 7806 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2023]

“So...Have you been here before?” Neil’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?” “To Orchard Respite. Or any other hospital I guess. This is my second time here, sixth time in a psychiatric hospital in total.” Daniel said, far too cheerfully. “This is… My first time.” “A first-timer?” Daniel’s eyes widened, “Boy, are you in for a treat."  -- Teens Andrew and Neil meet for the first time in a mental hospital. They've both been committed against their will and both for different reasons. With all their multitudes of issues, can they find love?

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced self harm