#suicide and drugs and abuse
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wahbegan · 8 months ago
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The Signs As Ways to Die
Aries: Car crash. Nasty one. Smoke rising in the sky, blood and scraps of car for hundreds of yards. It was someone else's fault. But it was yours, too. Taurus: Brain bleed. A bar fight you thought you won. You tried to sleep the headache off. Gemini: Shot in the back, then again in the head. You truly believed they were your friend. Cancer: Suicide by exsanguination. In the last few minutes, you weren't sure if you really wanted to die. You hoped someone would save you. Nobody did. Leo: Drowned. Swimming pool. You were drunk. It was days before anyone came looking for you, and by then it was hard to identify you. Virgo: Carbon Monoxide poisoning. It was a freak accident, one in ten thousand chance. No way you could have known. You weren't ready to go, but at least you didn't suffer. Libra: Rare form of cancer. Not the kind you recover from. Already in its advanced stages by the time they realized. It was the one thing you didn't prepare for. Scorpio: Manual strangulation. The police report called it a "domestic dispute". Yeah. That's one way to put it. Sagittarius: Exposure. You had wandered off the trail, gotten lost. It happens more often than you'd think. They found you only a few hundred meters from safety. Capricorn: Overdose. Fentanyl. Nobody saw it coming...we should have. I'm sorry. Aquarius: Old age. You just drift off...it's peaceful. But you're alone. Pisces: Heart attack. Died of fear. They never figured out why
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neuroticboyfriend · 2 years ago
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If you struggle with substance abuse but not addiction, you still deserve support. If you struggle with suicidality/self harm urges but don't act on it, you still deserve support. If you struggle with psychosis and paranoia but have insight, you still deserve support. If you struggle with anything but are "coping with it," you still deserve support.
You dont need to be in imminent crisis to get help - safety planning, harm reduction, resources, and accommodations. You're still struggling. You're still suffering, You're still at risk/in danger. You deserve better - you need better. Your health and wellbeing matters.
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allthecanadianpolitics · 9 months ago
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The family of an Inuk man who went missing in Ottawa but was found dead last week in Gatineau, Que. is criticizing the Ottawa Police Service for what they say were failures in searching for him.
Tommy Agnetsiak, 30, originally from Pond Inlet, was reported missing in Ottawa in February, his father Robert Agnetsiak told Nunatsiaq News.
On April 6 at around 11 a.m., police in Gatineau, Que., across the Ottawa River from the nation’s capital, received a call from someone who reported seeing a body on the Quebec side of the river, the department’s spokesperson Officer Patrick Kenney said in an email. [...]
“He was missing for a long time and nobody ever saw him ever since. Nobody took it seriously,” Robert Agnetsiak said.
Tragedy has hit the family hard in the last few years. Earlier this year, his daughter overdosed while lying on a couch in an Ottawa apartment and another daughter took her own life a couple of years ago. Tommy was Robert Agnetsiak’s last living child.
Robert said he wants what happened to Tommy to be a warning. Indigenous people are being killed, overdosing, and there needs to be a change. [...]
Continue Reading.
Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @vague-humanoid
Note from the poster @el-shab-hussein: Please avoid scrolling down to the comments. A lot of victim blaming going on there.
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my-mom-named-me-duck · 27 days ago
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TW I guess idk I don't want people to be pissed at me
i haven't been able to leave the house in a week and a half
i haven't even really looked out of the windows
the most social interaction I get is online
i had friends offline but they just sorta faded away
everyone is moving on without me
the only people I see in real life are my grandparents and we always end up in an argument because of miscommunication and them hiding information to avoid an argument
the only joy I get is from music and my online friends
i'm wasting my life
I've been like this for years
making new online friends fucking up and having a new group of people hate me
the last interesting thing that happened in my life was when a kid at my school joked about how easy it would be to drug and rape me because I'm going blind and don't have peripheral vision
i miss him
he was the only person giving me actual affection for once in my damn life
i ruined everything by showing the sro the messages
now I'm alone
yea I "dated" another kid between now and then but he was a dick and broke up with me when I called the cops after he sent me a message saying "if anything happens I love you"
kind of a dick move to imply you're about to commit suicide and then get pissed when I was worried
i ended up "dating" his ex best friend as a power move but of course it ended up being toxic lol
now I'm here
the days blend together
i don't know if I was being accurate when I said I haven't left the house in a week and a half it might have been more
i try to distract myself but it never lasts
my daydream that I always went to when I was feeling like shit doesn't help anymore
i'm not ok man
i'm lonely
i cant talk to the people who are "safe" to talk to because I'll just be sent right back to the mental hospital
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billybigbang2024 · 3 months ago
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The Billy Big Bang (banner courtesy of @alicetallula) posting season begins on November 1st and Team #1 will be posting through November 21st! The artwork will be completed by @dirtbagdefender and the fic is by @lorifragolina / TheMadcapLaughs, and beta read by @talanashta! We're ready to tear into their collaboration pieces and hope after seeing below you are too!
Fic Title: Bite the Bullet, Billy
Rating:  Explicit
Warnings:  No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships:  Steve/Billy, Billy & Max
Characters:   Billy, Steve, Max, Billy's parents, Billy's dog, OC
Additional Tags:  Use of drugs, use of alcohol, depression, medical and hospital, cops, domestic abuse, suicidal thoughts, child neglect, searching of true love.
Length: 45k-50k
Summary:
Billy's Hargrove life had never been easy. His family was condemned since before his birth, and he had to learn how to survive alone, without support or love.
He is alone, tough and bitchy until Starcourt Battle; he sacrifices himself for the people of his life and they promise they won't let him alone in the hospital.
But they fail him: he waits and waits, alone, with no sympathy in the hospital, and when he searches for the support of his family, they push him away.
Now Billy is alone, sad, he hits the bottom... until a weird, red-head friend saves him. 
He reforms his life, trying to forget Hawkins and people who let him down, but one day, an unexpected, well-known face knocks at his door, turning his world upside-down...
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drinkinboilingcoffee · 6 months ago
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Is this meme dead. I’m not elaborating.
@glitch-1983
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ihat3ev3rything · 2 months ago
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replaced the tears with drugs.
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smileymxx · 7 months ago
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Look down at me and tell me I'm worth nothing
Whisper into my ears, telling me to slit my wrists
Tell me to kill myself and I'll be yours 🥰
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captainjamster · 7 months ago
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Starry, Starry Night
Pairing(s): Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & Reader Warnings: mention and description of suicide, alcohol and medication abuse, reference to organ donation, retching, nausea, major character death Wordcount: 1.5k Summary: Kyle picks up your call. AO3 Link: Right here! <3
A/N: Please check out the tags before you read this one.
Full fic is under the cut <3
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“Mmmh, hello?”
The words feel heavy on your uncoordinated tongue as the line picks up.
“Hello, my name is Kyle. What’s going on tonight?”
Your heart drops for a second, and something like guilt stirs in your inhibited rational. He sounds young, not like the older individuals who usually work the hotlines. Young, with years left to relive this conversation. You sluggishly pull the phone away, thumb hovering over the end button, but his voice trails out the small speaker again with more concern this time.
“Hello?”
Fuck it. Won’t be your problem soon.
You slur out your name for the man on the other end, and he repeats it back. “Alright, and are you under the influence of any substances right now?”
“Fuckin’ all of them,” you grin, trying to keep up with how the stars swirl into vortexes against their black canvas. “Tryna – tryin’ to get a fatal concoct – hehe, cock – uhh, concoction in me. Poison in my tummy, yum.”
The confused snort he lets out tugs at your lips, and you can’t help the giggle bubbling up from your chest. “All of them?” He echoes, and you hear the familiar click click click of keys.
“S’not all of ‘em, tricked you. Jus’ alcohol, my medication, and uh… some shit a friend left in my car. Like a bottle of spirits, an’ ‘bout a thousand ‘n four hundred milligrams? Dunno what the other shit was, tasted bad.”
There’s silence for a moment as you listen to the clacking of keys again.
“I’m going to ask something a bit bluntly, okay?”
You make an agreeable noise, waiting for the question.
“Is this a suicide attempt?”
“F’it’s just an attempt, I’m gonna be so fuckin’ mad,” you mutter, cringing at the aching pulsating through your body.
There’s a moment where you hear him murmur something, and then he’s back at the line. “Can you tell me where you are right now?”
Realisation flickers in you, prompting your eyes open. “Ahhhhh, s’why I called, yeah.” He types again rapidly as you mumble the location. “Guess someone’s gotta find me, right? Better a professional than some – some poor fuckin’ guy.”
The man – Kyle – hums in agreement. “That’s good of you. You sound like a thoughtful person, considering those things even during a time like this.”
“Yeah, thoughtful,” you scoff. You know what he’s doing. “Can we just… S’okay if we talk for a bit?”
That wasn’t the plan. It was meant to be enough to give the address and then hang up. But the chill is seeping further into you, past the now-dirty fabric you carelessly threw on, and hearing his voice makes you feel just a little bit warmer.
“I’m not going anywhere. Got a topic?” Kyle questions, and you think you can hear him settle into his chair.
“S’pretty tonight. Clear sky.” It’s hard to force your eyes to stay open, the sparkling dots spinning in and out of view behind the canvas of the trees.
“Yeah? A long trip up that road to get there.” He mulls, and your aching legs agree.
“Yep, even longer walk.”
“Walk?” He sounds incredulous, and it brings back that dopey grin to your lips.
“Yeah, well. Sold my car last week.”
“Ah…” It falls quiet for a moment. “I see.”
“Don’t be like that,” you groan, wincing at the nausea as you shift against the dirt. “Savin’ the planet or some shit, right?”
Kyle laughs again, and you think the noise could get you higher than anything else coursing through you right now. “I like your humour.”
The compliment sounds more genuine than the last one; appreciation, not just pointing at empty positives. “Consider yourself lucky to hear it, m’not usually this uh, happy.” You offer, tasting bitterness in the confession.
“What are you like usually?” The question is tentatively curious, and you’re sure he means no harm, but the words tear through you.
“Dunno.”
Crickets chirp as you listen to the static whispers of silence, flicking through blurred memories. You don’t know if it’s because your brain is slowly slipping further into deterioration, or if you never wanted to remember in the first place.
“Tired.”
Moments of happiness feel far and few, peppered so sparingly amongst everything you’ve ever struggled through. When they cut you open, will they find anything but your rotted, ugly thoughts and the circuits they’ve carved into your mind? You hope your brain is better off in the hands of whoever gets it next. Maybe you’ll get to be some cool science demonstration.
“Friend had a baby last month. Couldn’t even feel something with the little guy in my arms.”
He was so small, staring up at you with big eyes, his warm hand wrapped around your finger. A chorus of ah’s and aw’s sung around you as the baby beamed, wet and gummy, up at your watery smile. All you could feel was a cleaver digging deeper into your heart.
“Jus’ wondered if I looked so hopeful when I was that young. An’ if this’s where my life was always going to go anyway.”
Something carves a fleeting shadow above you, blinking the stars out of and back into existence with the wide span of its wings. You think what it’s like to feel so weightless, amongst the branches rustling as a breeze picks up.
“Guess I was just born wrong. Here to make people happy until it – until I – wear off.”
It’s so quiet you think Kyle has hung up, until something rustles and he clears his throat. “You remind me of someone.”
The remark catches you off-guard. “Good or bad?”
“Both. He’d make you mad in the funniest ways; couldn’t even be angry at him. But he hid behind it, tried to help himself by helping everyone else. Good guy.”
The fondness in his voice squeezes at your heart in a way that hurts more than anything else you’re feeling. Has anyone ever talked about you like that? “You sound like a thoughtful person, talkin’ ‘bout others so nice.”
He chuckles at the call-back, and you wonder what he looks like. Is he as pretty as his laugh?
“Y’sound so young.” The words slip out before you can stop them.
There’s a hesitant pause before Kyle answers. “Few years off thirty. I’m a veteran,” he sighs. “Retired.”
“Retired?” The word is slurred as you echo it back, but he understands anyway.
“Lost a mate in combat. Was uh… Was actually the someone I mentioned before. Messed me up for a couple of years.”
“M’so sorry.” The words are getting hard to articulate, but it feels important to say them.
“Don’t be. It lead to better things. Found this organisation, realised I could do this for a job. So here I am, I guess. Six months next week since I joined.”
“That’s really nice. I’m s – fuuck, shit – so happy for you, Kyle.”
There’s noise from the speaker. “You right?”
“Feel funny, s’like… Dunno, m’stomach is gonna tear apart.”
The conversational tone slips as worry peaks back into his voice. “Just keep holding on, okay? Maybe you can work here too; we’d be menaces in the office.”
You know he can hear the hollowness in your laugh. “Yeah, sure. That’d be good.”
The sky is trembling more than before when your eyes flutter open, and it takes a moment to realise it’s you shaking, not the world moving. How much longer? Was it always burning this much? You catch the last syllable of your name, pulling you back to the phone resting in the dirt next to your head.
“Mmh.. M’here. What… s’your friends name?”
“… Johnny. He liked being called that.”
You hum, feeling the word in your mouth. “Johnny. Johnny. I’ll say hi to him for you.”
“Not just yet, okay?” His answer is strained, tinging the encouragement he’s trying to convey.
You don’t respond, forcing your chest to expand and contract. Nothing wants to work; everything is heavy, uncoordinated, and you’ve never felt drowsier. But you’re pulled back to the cold night’s air again as he calls out your name again, louder.
“Huh? Sorry. Jus’… so fuckin’,” you stop, groaning as something sears in your chest, “tired.”
“No, no,” he stutters, hitting aggressively at the keyboard in those nice sounding clacks. “Help is so close, just stay awake for me, okay?”
He sounds so desperate. Emotions well up in a chaotic rush; where was this compassion when you needed it? Why didn’t you just hang up? Is he going to remember the sound of your voice by next week?
“Oh, Kyle. Waited after I took ‘em, ‘fore I called. M’sorry.” You catch inaudible curses as something jostles. “Think you’re… t’only reason m’awake.”
“That’s good, that’s good – we’re gonna keep talking, okay?”
You don’t remember how to form words properly anymore, and everything sounds a little funny, like it’s travelling through cotton. Air comes in ragged gasps; you can’t pull it into your lungs through the fire that blazes up your oesophagus, forcing you to retch. The sky doesn’t look familiar anymore through your lashes, but as everything grows fuzzier, you remember the voice next to you.
“Fuck, ugh – fuck, Kyle?”
As you tune back into the distorted noises, hearing him choke out your name, you realise he’s crying. It takes everything in you to lift your hand, as if you could wipe the tears away from here. “T-Thank you. I, really hope – ah, shit – we… hah, meet again next time.”
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banners by cafekitsune
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aftgficrec · 20 days ago
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Staff Recs - Christmas/Winter Quickies 1: Families
Sweet and bitter: settle in for family-focused fluff, heavy angst, and everything in between. – AFTG Fic Rec Fam
previous christmas:
‘Identical’ here (nicky & the twins)
‘The Cousins’ series part 4 and ‘All I want for Christmas (is some peace)’ here (nicky & the twins)
‘Little Miracles’ here (nicky & the twins)
‘I’m going to make this place your home’ here (mary & neil) 
‘He Looks Just Like You’ here (neil has a twin)
‘Counting Stars’ series here (nerik & twins) 
‘It’s Not Family Without Love’ ch 7, 8 here (nicky & twins)
‘Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder’ here (twins)
‘Son of a Exy!’ part 17 here (andreil parenting)
‘First Christmas’ here (andreil parenting)
‘Where the Lovelight Gleams’ here (andreil parenting)
‘Andrew and Neil Family's Adventures’ part 14 here
‘tis the season to be folly’ (andreil & nerik), ‘christmas in a place called home,’ and ‘hard candy christmas’ (andreil, nicky & the twins) here
‘To Become An Angel (You Have To Die First)’ here (magic, andreil, nicky & the twins)
‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’ here (andreil, twins)
‘Under the Christmas lights’ (nerik & twins) here
‘lock away that winter of mine’ here (nicky & the twins)
‘A Snow Globe for Monsters’ here (harry potter, twins)
‘penchant’ here (andreil, betsy & the twins)
winter:
‘The architecture of flight’ here (harry potter, neil & nathan)
‘For He’s a Jolly Good Felon’ here (nicky & the twins)
‘Brother’s Best-Friend’ here (twins)
‘The Long Winter’ here (andreil, nicky & the twins)
‘the snow is melting’ here (time travel, dadmack, mary hartford)
Family of six, two cats and a dog by ThePureMonster [Rated T, 12352 Words, Complete, 2024]
Part 2 of Andreil’s Family, part 1 here (now complete)
A family fanfic that will consist of drabbles. Each new chapter will be a sketch from the life of Neil, Andrew and their children: the graduation of school, the first grade, the first vacation with the whole family, holidays and much more.
temporary tattoos, permanent partnership by poetic_ivy [Rated T, 2798 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]
“Andrew Joseph Minyard, what is that? Is that a ring? Is that a ring?”
NB: andreil, minyard & klose family focus, pov nerik’s son
AFTG Xmas Advent Calendar 2024 PSU Foxes by Fire_Bear [Collection, Rated G/T/M, Incomplete, AFTG Advent 2024]
Part 3: Dinner [G, 1613 Words] (kevin & neil, kevin & wymack) It's time for Kevin to meet his biological dad for the first time and he's freaking out. Part 7: Tree [T, 1803 Words] (twins) Aaron is stuck shopping for a Christmas tree with his brother.  Part 10: Family [G, 1420 Words) (kataaron, nerik, twins) Aaron and Katelyn are hosting their first ever family Christmas.
fucking definitely by djhedy [Rated T, 7954 Words, Complete, 2021]
Kevin pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Andrew, with his tiny wireframes, is always telling him to get glasses that stay up there. But Kevin’s been told the big tortoiseshell frames suit him. So there. He looks over to where Andrew is reading the back cover of something with distaste. He grunts. Kevin says, “What’s wrong with that one?” Andrew barely flicks his eyes up at him before reading, “Fairytale romance, for teens, there was only one bed, goblincore…” “Goblincore?” Kevin shakes his head. “What is literature coming to?” - Kevin and Andrew work at a bookshop. Jeremy and Neil visit more than they need to.
NB: this keremy fic is featured here because of excellent dadmack
Punk-ass Cookie Monster by KweenDay [Rated T, 5386 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2021, Locked]
Neil and Andrew have kinda-sorta-maybe hated each other since the eighth grade. Now they're fighting over who will write the graduation article for the school newspaper. There's only one solution - a bet! Whoever wins the cookie baking contest gets to write it and the other will suck it up and let it go. There are cookies. Team Twinyards VS Team Neil & Kevin. There's only one... closet. 🤭
Let's Build a Place Like Here by permanentchaos  [Rated T, 3753 Words, Complete, 2018]
Christmas is a waste of his time, of everyone's time really. Nicky's just about stubborn enough to disagree, Andrew's not quite ready to change his mind.
tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction
Bury my memory in the snow by BrokenPineTree [Rated G, 738 Words, Complete, 2022]
“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.” -Hal Borland
tw: implied/referenced child abuse
kuddelmuddel by aconim [Rated T, 3435 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2022]
In which Aaron plots while remaining extremely oblivious, Andrew and Neil are just trying to live their lives, and Kevin knows too much. Featuring winter markets, hotel room plotting, and various failed schemes on Aaron's part.
AJMICKEY56's Fanfiction Palooza! by AJMICKEY56 [Rated G, Multifandom Collection, Complete, 2023]
Chapter 14: nicky centric fic mental health after Drake + twins helping
tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: canonical character death, tw: intrusive thoughts, tw: depression
Christmas Tree Sprinkles by e_cat [Rated G, 1386 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange 2017]
In a world where Neil hides in Germany instead of Arizona, Andrew also moves to Germany, with Nicky, who is starting a coffee shop with Erik.
Photos of You by KittKatAttack [Rated G, 2807 Words, Complete, 2024]
Andrew has his picture taken and published in the school newspaper without his knowledge. He finds the culprit and gets them to stop but will that be the end of their interactions? Andrew seems to think so.
Season's Greetings by chronically_peach [Rated G, 2270 Words, Complete, 2022]
Andrew Minyard hates Christmas but he loves Neil Josten and Neil loves a stuffed fox he found at the mall. Despite his refusal to celebrate the holiday Andrew buys Neil the damn fox for Christmas.
All I Want For Christmas by exy_shmexy [Rated T, 5398 Words, Complete, 2024, Locked]
"Andrew was pretty sure that if he heard Mariah Carey’s voice one more time he would commit another felony." Or Andrew faces the horrors of going Christmas shopping right before Christmas.
Cold Feet, Warm Hearts by BelaBellissima [Rated T, 1362 Words, Complete, AFTG Winter Exchange 2018]
feat. twindyards bonding and Andreil dealing with the cold
bones of our chidhood by cave_canem [Rated T, 6263 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange 2017]
November 4th isn't a good day in the Minyard household, but it doesn't mean that it has to stay that way. Aaron, Andrew, and slowly mending their relationship (and their birthday).
a mother's love by Greenfallleaves [Rated T, 9259 Words, Complete, AFTG Then and Now 2023, Locked]
In the hell that was Neil's childhood, there were good moments too. Almost all of them included his mother. Mary cared about her boy. Or 5 relatively peaceful moments from Neil's childhood.
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced abuse
December 10th by GhostOfNoah [Rated T, 876 Words, Complete, 2017]
a nightmare of Christmas past wakes Neil in the middle of the night
tw: implied/referenced child abuse
Dear Santa, from AJM by neil-drew-kev (PharmaceuticalLoser) [Rated M, 2345 Words, Complete, 2024]
Andrew writing letters to Santa from the ages of 5-20.
tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: violence
Merry Christmas, Mr. Minyard by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos [Rated G, 3024 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2023]
Andrew's nieces want to know how he and Neil got together. He's more than okay with telling them about one of the best days of his life.
Firsts by AgapantoBlu [Rated G, 2574 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2017, Locked]
The first time Nicky kisses Erik, it’s their third kiss, it’s on Christmas Eve, under a mistletoe twig, and he’s crying. A few of Nicky's firsts through his life.
tw: suicidal ideation, tw: religious trauma, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: vomit, tw: depression
Gotta Give It Up by mharris [Rated G, 4725 Words, Complete, 2018]
Andrew's feelings about Christmas and his relationship with his family through it. - Andrew assumed Nicky thought that they were one Lifetime Christmas movie away from being a normal family if only he could set the scene right. Andrew had watched Nicky try and try again for half a dozen years now to find the right formula to make them all love each other in a Hallmark Card sort of way. Nicky hadn’t yet realized Hallmark didn’t make cards for drug addicts and abuse survivors
tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon
A Sad Christmas by Pryde_of_kittens [Rated G, 1271 Words, Complete, 2019]
Erik dies, and Nicky is not okay. But at least he isn’t alone.
tw: major character death
Finders Keepers by minyardlovebot [Rated G, 2313 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]
Some would call it tedious, monotonous, slow paced. Andrew just calls it living. For once in his life he’s just living. And it’s not happy, it’s not glorious or joyful, but it’s so much more than he ever thought he’d have. He’s still getting used to it.
Reconcile. by OddlyBookish [Not Rated 4045 Words, Complete, 2019]
Aaron and Neil try to reconcile their friendship while Andrew tries to intervene.
tw: drug addiction, tw: violence, tw: blood
Socks for Christmas by HalfpintPeach [Rated G, 1676 Words, Complete, 2024]
On a last-minute shopping trip, Neil needs help figuring out Andrew's shoe size.
Ghosts of Past and Present by sunrise_and_death [Rated T, 1200 Words, Complete, AFTG Winter Exchange 2018, Locked]
Nicky wants all the magic of Christmas. Aaron wants a real Christmas. Andrew wants nothing at all.
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year by Whoops_heck [Not Rated, 2698 Words, Incomplete (but can be read as a one shot), 2018]
Neil Josten has a complicated relationship with Christmas.
tw: attempted csa, tw: child abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: violence, tw: canonical character death
Thirteen Christmases of Andrew Joseph Minyard by notamisfitjustafreak [Rated M, 100 Words, Complete, 2017]
Andrew's first Christmas was with his mother who held him as she painted the snow red.
tw: major character death, tw: suicide, tw: implied referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon
You've gone soft by @higgins5 [Tumblr, 2017]
Aaron wondered how their lives managed to turn out like this, something calm and filled with love. 
Andrew and Aaron in matching outfits by @storyalchemist [Tumblr Fic, 2019]
Nicky making a massive production out of holidays hc by @waestlandbaby [Tumblr, 2018]
moriyama family
all hail king killmonger by okayantigone [Rated M, 1442 Words, Complete, 2017, Locked]
…Riko becomes the heir apparent to the Moriyama empire, and gets everything he has ever wanted. Kevin's hand and future are saved. Everything changes.
tw: implied/referenced suicide
NB: this is tagged kevin/riko but it could be tagged as kevin & riko. It’s mainly kengo & riko.
They Say Tomorrow's Never Promised by auxprouvaires [Rated T/E, Collection, Incomplete, AFTG Advent Calendar 2024]
Thirty-one, 300 word Ichirou Moriyama centric mini-fics. Chapter 1: 'you should never have come here' - Ichirou & Riko ichirou moriyama & riko moriyama, universe: canon divergent, theme: winter, theme: families, theme: angst Chapter 2: 'you were just a child' - Kengo & Ichirou
winter
I feel the future looming and the tide of time subsuming and you by Silveriss [Rated G, 600 Words, Complete, 2016]
Part 1 of TFC Fantasy AU
It's a crisp day caught between winter and spring. The plateau shivers, drawing out long gasps in the breeze. Over the sleeping rocks the plains drop to give way to the valley, a haven far away from Palmetto or Nicky's parents. The future is looming, but time slows down on top of the windswept plateau.
happy birthday, by the way series by pipedreamparrish [Rated T, Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2021]
Part 1: we'll take it slow (and grow as we go) [2755 Words] It is Aaron Minyard’s 14th birthday and he has just found out that he has a brother - a twin brother, an identical twin brother, who looks exactly like him and might just understand him, too. Maybe once he meets this brother of his, then they can celebrate their birthdays together. Maybe they can give each other presents, and eat cake, and blow out the candles using the combined forces of their breath. Maybe, maybe, maybe. (Andrew Doe spends his birthday choking down cake that Cas got him, trying to hide the fresh marks on his arm, and thinking about the best way to keep his mysterious brother as far away from him as possible) (or: the Twinyards's birthday's through the ages, featuring very ugly ties, large sugar intakes, and lots of growth and healing)
tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced child abuse and neglect, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction
Part 2: many stories have i told (but true dreams never die) [5099 Words] January 19, 1998 - Nathaniel Wesninski is 10 years old and he does not know it yet, but this will be the last birthday he ever spends in the house he has lived in for his entire life. January 19, 2021 - Neil smiles viciously, and when he catches a glimpse of his face in the plexiglass, he doesn’t see his father at all. (Or: Neil's time on the run vs now, told through birthdays real and fake. Feat: Kevin finally going skiing, Neil really loving exy, and finding your home)
tw: child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: blood/gore
he's the giggle at a funeral by manya [Rated T, 4418 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange, Winter, 2018]
“Ooooooh.” Nicky said, eyes suddenly bright and interested. “A boy? A boy you like?” “I literally cannot stand anything he does.” Andrew is quick to correct. “It won’t work, anyway. He thinks I’m a freak.” “Well, first impressions have never been your forte.” Aaron said snidely, obviously thinking of their own disastrous first meeting. “And how the fuck was inviting him to watch your mother’s cremation supposed to disprove that first impression?” “Our mother’s cremation ceremony.”
rosy cheeks & auburn curls by allforthegayz [Not Rated, 3446 Words, Complete, 2021]
There were some things he didn’t mind, the colder it got, the more layers people wore and questions about his long sleeves became fewer, the special hot chocolate bee buys around this season, people slipping on ice and falling on their asses. He also doesn’t mind when the freezing temperatures mean a certain blue-eyed boy starts wearing outrageously oversized grandpa sweaters passed down from his uncle.
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction
The Art of Surviving the Holidays by adaintywomanofmystery [Rated T, 3231 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2019, Locked]
Andrew hates Thanksgiving and refuses to participate, knowing it’s only going to end in disaster. Neil seems to think otherwise, and with a very persistent Nicky on their case, how can he
tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon
This is our beginning by queenofseventeen [Rated T, 6483 Words, Complete, 2019]
In a world where having magic can get you killed by the church Andrew, his brother and his cousin have fled the country but winter has come and with the cold come extra responsibilities. Like using enough magic to keep your plants alive that you could die or a small arctic fox bleeding out in the snow near your house. In which they almost die but they always go on.
tw: blood
Art
the twins have a nice christmas art by @aymmidumps
I never thought I’d have this art by @strokeofinspiration
Andreil featuring Nicky with a mistletoe. art by @eeriethacus
andreil domestic soft winter with kids art by @foxhole-court-girl
Andreil Christmas ft Milo art by @allfortheslay25 (more art and hcs here)
Neil with Andrew and Aaron and their Christmas tree art by @teomoy
Meeting Aaron and Katelyn’s daughter Part 1 Uncle Andrew | Part 2 Andreil art by @gremlinddrawss
Wymack and Kevin’s first Christmas art by @jojen-hewitt
Mistletoe series (families) by @emry-stars-art: andrew & oc son arlo  | sir & king  |  twinyards hug  |  twins & nicky 
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hopetune · 1 month ago
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✧ dead reckoning: finding yourself bothered by somebody's death more than you would have expected, even if they were only an abstract presence in your life.
mentions of: suicide, drug abuse
"The festival's canceled. Once you finish eating, we're going to check out of the hotel and hop on the next flight back to Epsilon."
Alice had said this so frankly that I almost didn't register it. She didn't even look up from her phone. Suppose she always had a knack for delivering bad news like bullet wounds. I set my fork down on my plate, the half-bitten piece of french toast still glistening with syrup. I tilted my head.
"What do you mean canceled? Why?"
Alice raised a brow. "You didn't hear? One of the performers died last night."
I felt my wings raise in an instant. My heart raced, though I wasn't exactly sure why. "What? How?"
Alice swiped on her phone a few times, her polished nails tapping against the screen like small scatterings of rain. A strange sorrow twisted itself into my stomach, and the sweet residue of the syrup that lingered in my mouth became a taste most foul. I quickly searched my mind for the list of performers, as though grasping at a name would give me more clarity. The attempt was futile. My unease served to sever the memory of dress rehearsal, of the times I looked at the posters and promos.
 It felt like a century had passed before Alice handed her phone to me.
I scanned the headline eagerly, like some hungry beast. I felt beat of my heart growing louder with each word I read.
"...She overdosed?" I gasped, thrusting the phone back towards Alice. She put a finger to her red lips.
"Shhh, don't be so loud. This article hasn't been published yet," she sighed, "but, yes, that's what the police are saying. There's also the chance that she killed herself."
"Killed herself?" I echoed, as if repeating it would give it more sense. It did not.
I fell back into my chair, sinking into the peeling cushions. I looked around at the diner we were in—so full of life, so full of people, so difficult to pick an individual out from the crowd. I wondered, vaguely, if I had already seen this girl before. The other artists lingered by this diner often, as it was walking distance from the festival grounds. Could she have been that girl I greeted last night, on my way back to the hotel? Or the girl I helped tie the corset of during dress rehearsals? Vainly, I tried to remember if I had shared any moment with her. But I came up blank.
"...This is horrible." I managed to finally say. Alice shrugged.
"It's show business. People die all the time."
I wrapped my arms around my chest. My palms ran up and down my forearms, desperate to conjure up some warmth against this deep cold that had slithered up my body. My wings folded in on themselves. Alice took a deep breath, then reached out from across the table to place a hand on my elbow.
"Hey, kid. Listen. You're new to the industry, and stuff like this is going to seem really shocking at first. But trust me when I say that this won't be the last dead starlet you'll know of. So you'd better get used to it now, alright?"
I nodded slowly, but I couldn't really hear her words. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears, and the distant sound of sirens. But that seemed a good enough answer for her. Alice continued.
"Okay. Well, I'll be headed back to the hotel, but I'll give you… until 10:30 to finish your food. Check out is at 12, so pack your bags by then. Venue staff have already egressed our set, so all we need to do is just get your costume from the dressing room and we can take get back home."
I nodded once more, and Alice stood up from her seat and left. She didn't turn back.
...
I couldn't sleep that night. Against better judgment, I took out my phone and searched up her name: Ophelia. She was just around my age, 21, and they found her dead in her hotel room surrounded by emptied bottles and emptied syringes. I listened to one of her songs. She liked to sing the blues. Whenever she performed, she did a little wink with her left eye. I wondered if I should do that in my next performance as a tribute—then wondered again if people would scrutinize that. In the end, I chose to anonymously order two vinyls from her. I would keep one for myself, and send the other to my brother.
Then, wriggling into my sheets, I went back to sleep. I didn't dream.
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paingoes · 2 months ago
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Crash Out - Reflection
Birthday, shower thoughts, shrooms
Paris reflects on the birthday incident and his life in general
(Content: whumper turned whumpee, (ex) royal whumpee, living weapon whumpee, whumper POV, past abuse, abuse apologism, dehumanization, beating, drugs, addiction, body image, minor emeto, suicidal ideation, guilt, death mention)
It was his birthday and the same night everything was destined to be destroyed. The Castle Thales seemed to know this and did its best to look haunted. The warmth of her presence broke through all that was the cold and crystalline. She was the only one he could stand to speak to.
Everything had been fine until they’d ended up back in the main hall and that old argument started up again.
Delta knelt at the side of the throne with the golden chain around his neck. All the bruises had been painted over carefully. He looked bored more than anything else. One hand played idly with the thread of the carpet. He did not see them come in.
Lorelai went rigid just as soon as she saw him. She pulled away from Paris as harshly as if he’d hit her.
“…You really keep him there all night?” she asked in unease.
He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. He didn’t want to go through it again now. Not on his birthday. He wanted a single fucking night where he didn’t have to think about it.
“Yeah,” he answered flatly. Obviously.
Her expression darkened, “And you make him wear a leash.”
“Who cares?”
“I’m sure he does,” she said, “Can you imagine how he feels?”
“Oh my god, are you still on about that commie shit?” He moved one hand to his hip, his irritation deepening. He was tired of explaining this. She wouldn’t understand.
“You are mean,” she said. She said it like it was a revelation, like it was something that was supposed to surprise him. Like she was finding it out now for the first time.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“You’re worse each time I see you.” 
Something like horror was dawning in her eyes. She was the only person he cared about in the world and in that moment, he swore that he hated her.
~
One year later, in the bathroom of a rundown motel, he washed the dirt off of his hands and carefully re-bandaged all the places the skin had torn. The air was heavy with steam. It opened up the shredded membrane of his throat. It distorted his reflection.
“Can you imagine how he feels?”
The thought came to him without warning, but with the kind of day it’d been, it didn’t come as a surprise. And he couldn’t have imagined it, not really. He’d never spared Delta the time, or even the consideration.
But he was starting to. He could almost imagine it, forced down onto his knees by the barrel of a gun, the blindfold tied over his eyes. He’d treated it like it was nothing. Empire demanded sacrifice — from everyone. It was all just more of the same.
He wiped at the mirror to reveal the litany of bruises along his skin. His body was turning into a minefield of scars. It was meth thin, and tired often. He’d done such a number on it.
~
Twelve hours earlier, Lorelai’s ship had pulled down onto the clearing of the festival. For all that had happened, the partying had went on uninterrupted throughout the entire trip. She’d asked if he wanted to skip it for a little bit, since his head was fucked, and since his body was fucked, and since he’d almost died. He said no.
It didn’t take them long to disappear into the crowd, about as indistinguishable from any other pair of losers in their twenties. She could get along with anyone — and he was finding it was a lot more tolerable to talk to people when they didn’t know who he was.
They found refuge in the company of the spring-breakers. College students. They were easy to work. The fine arts student pulled a knitted pouch from within her purse.
“No. None for you. Don’t give him any,” Lorelai insisted, popping a handful of the shrooms into her mouth.
“I’m fine,” Paris said.
“No. You always freak out.”
“I’m literally fine.”
“Don’t give him any.”
They waited until her back was turned before making the handover. 
“I took it,” he said, the moment she turned back.
“Are you fucking crazy?!”
~
“You know what? Fine.” He yanked at the chain around Delta’s neck, harder than he needed to. He slid the key into the lock. The chain clattered loudly to the floor.
“Fuck both of you.”
He stormed out. It was freezing on Thales that night and he could barely feel it. He was hot. He was burning all the way through the wood path.
He stomped up the ramp of the ship and all the way to his room.
Empire demanded everything. It would erode away at any happiness he might’ve gotten, any other life he might’ve had. He would give and give and give and get nothing and still keep at it endlessly. He’d made his peace with it. 
He thought he did.
And still he thought he might have her. 
Empire would rob him of that too. It was the final intrusion, one final act of self denial.
He handled it with all the grace of someone off six different stimulants.
He tore his room apart and he took everything in it. He was in the grip of it. All the scorn and betrayal bubbled up and coiled and burned. 
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
She belonged to him. 
They both did. 
~
Through the thin walls of the motel room, he could hear her on the other side. She laughed softly, her voice indistinct as she took the call.
She could never know. He’d tell her almost anything, but this she could never know. 
He tried to imagine saying it to her now. He tried to imagine telling her what he’d done that night. The fear and the shame coursed through him like ice. He never could. 
Everything he owned fit inside of the trunk of her ship. There was so little that belonged to him anymore. 
~
The shrooms crept up on them about midway through the set. They hit her first. He saw the way her eyes dilated, the little mania that crept into her movements, and knew he did not have long to go. Sure enough, the colors shifted, and the strange vibrations through his body picked up in synch with the bass.
He thought it was fine. In the busyness and brightness of the crowd, he could almost forget that it was his destiny to freak out each time he went on psychs. It was only as the sky darkened and the music quieted that he felt it crawling.
They were in the woods. Why hadn’t he realized it until now? He stumbled back to the college kids’ little outpost and found that they were surrounded by woods on all sides. He was on the ground. He was in the dirt. Something large and tiger shaped crested in his periphery. Something dog-headed flashed behind his closed eyes — and the harder he tried to push the thought from his mind, the more it wanted to stay. He whined miserably into his crossed arms, hiding his face in the grass.
“I told you not to take it,” Lorelai sighed, combing her fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, meaning it. 
“Shh,” she said. She kissed his temple. “Just ride it out.”
~
It was so easy to blame Delta. He’d gotten into the habit of it. And Delta took it so endlessly. He never fought back. 
Paris would never be happy. He’d known it for a long time. Empire demanded sacrifice. It demanded and demanded and demanded. Paris would give to it endlessly, everything. He did everything for it.
He was so fucking sick of it.
He did not dream of a better life. He dreamed of dying. He dreamed of crashing the ship into the side of a mountain and killing everyone onboard. He dreamed of unlocking Delta’s collar at the ball and unleashing upon all of them a fury that they’d all done everything to deserve. He dreamed of death in a million different ways.
Paris hated his life. He hated Empire and that nuclear bomb they had built up in his brain, the child they’d ripped from his home and turned into a machine, the fucking symbol of all that had ever gone wrong. Real evil burns and coils and glows. It destroyed cities and cut civilians in half. It cauterized wounds and bled from the mouth. It was down there now, with one of Lorelai’s hands pressed up against its own.
Because Delta was so fucking blameless. He’d never had a choice, he heard Lorelai’s voice in falsetto.
What fucking choice had he had, either? Delta got to be blameless. And he got to be worse each time I see you. He got to be mean.
He did the last of the line off of the cracked sink.
He’d show them fucking mean.
~
He felt around in the space between his ribs. He traced careful fingers over the star-shaped scar on his chest and then again over the bandages on his palm. It still hurt nearly too much to touch. He didn’t know when it would heal again. They’d stitched it up for him at CTRL and they had not even done it painfully. He hadn’t understood why. He still didn’t understand why.
The word mercy tasted sour against his tongue. It spun sickly within his mind. 
Wasn’t he just a little bit disappointed when the gun was removed from his mouth, when his life was extended any longer than it had to be?
And wasn’t he so devastated when he learned that he was spared?
He traced the scratches along his arms. Delta’s claws had gotten in deep. It was some of the last traces of him left on the earth. All the rest was buried at the bottom of the ocean.
It wasn’t fair.
He didn’t deserve it.
~
One of the art students gave him a sketchpad just to shut him up. He took it, grateful to give any form to the horrific intrusions.
He drew wolves, mostly. Wolf heads. Lorelai laid down on the grass beside him. The others were sprawled out a bit further away. 
She wanted to share the paper with him. He held it in between the two of them. His drawings were scary, at first. All the wolves had eyes in their throat. All the lions had teeth like knives.
But she filled in the empty space with vines and flowers until it looked like a jungle you’d find in a children’s book. She said she wished they had paint. He remembered she’d been good at that. They’d have gotten a lot of mileage out of it. 
He felt his fear dwindling. He felt guilty that he let it.
He knew he freaked out whenever he took it. He did that with most things, really. Did he even like drugs? Why had he taken it?
~
Paris barely heard him. So much adrenaline coursed through his system that even seeing felt like an impossibility. He didn’t bother holding back anymore. He didn’t want to.
The impact broke the mirror open and scattered the shards all across the floor. He threw Delta roughly down on top of the broken pieces, not caring. The glass crunched beneath his boots, crystalline, iridescence.
Everything was ruined. Everything was ruined and there was no coming back. There was no hope.
He pulled his leg back and drove it straight into the side of Delta’s rib, listening for the crack that followed. He hated it. He hated all of this so much he could not stand it. He was spiraling, he knew, completely lost in the goddamn tantrum. He didn’t care. He wished they’d both just fucking die.
He yanked at Delta’s collar again, dragging him into the bathroom. He was going on about some shit that Paris didn’t understand, that he couldn’t even begin to care about. If he’d been listening, if he’d really been anywhere but inside his own head, he might’ve noticed that Delta had been crying. That he’d started begging. He didn’t notice. He took a rough handful of his hair, forcing his head back down whenever he squirmed too much.
The water reached the rim, and he’d forced his head under that, too.
Delta laid gasping within the tub, the thick strands of his hair slick and wet across his face, his wrists bound up in chains. He’d tried to speak again. He couldn’t. Paris clamped a hand over his mouth. He didn’t want him to speak, to interrupt his own spiral. He wanted to feel it all, to drown in it.
“I hate you,” he said.
And Delta’s eyes got wide, probably wondering what he’d done wrong, as if it’d ever been about him at all.
~
He tried to throw up, but nothing could come out. He hadn’t eaten in days. It’d become habit. His hands were shaking and his nose was bloody and the hot steam of the bathroom made it so that there was no coolness to the tiles. He felt no relief even as he pressed his skin against them, as badly as he wanted to lie down on the floor and never get up. He was sick.
He could still hear Lorelai through the door, the faint sound of the phone call, and of her music playing in the background. She seemed to know, always. He heard her rising up from the bed, a gentle knock at the door.
“Paris?” she called softly through it.
He winced, closed his eyes. How could he ever begin to tell her?
He was sick.
~
Did he even like drugs? He asked himself this again and again, still sprawled out on the grass, still with her beside him. The night was on in earnest now. Thousands of stars peppered the sky. The music student said there would be a meteor shower tonight. Maybe they’d get lucky.
Why had he fought so hard and so fiercely? They’d come all this way, across a hundred different planets, across an entire year. He’d dragged her from her home and across the galaxy. It was such a desperate bid.
He must have wanted to live. This was the behavior of someone who wanted to live.
And so why had he gotten drunk every night of the trip, and each night before that, ever since he turned fifteen? He’d taken the pills off the street when he could afford to pay for the real thing. He’d forgone the test kits, when it was no trouble for him to get them. He’d taken more than he should and he’d picked fights he couldn’t win. He’d spent hours prodding at Delta, at an atom bomb, just hoping for something-
He hoped the ship would crash sometimes. He hoped the stars they passed would explode without warning. He hoped for one thing, desperately, and he had for as long as he could remember.
I want to die.
It was a quiet admission. He could only say it in his head. Lorelai was tripping too hard, it would throw her in a bad way. But as it surfaced, there was no way to submerge it again. It rose up all at once.
Death evaded him. It was denied to him. Was he ever relieved afterwards? He wasn’t. He hadn’t been.
The world was cruel as it was endless — and it was out for him. He would die just as stupid and evil as everyone else had been.
But then they’d been so careful when they pulled him out of the grave. They’d bandaged his hand and stitched it without hurting him, even when they had every right to. They’d given him blood from their veins when his own had run out.
Lorelai’s hot tears had fell onto the bare skin of his clavicle. She’d clung to him when he was found. She didn’t want to see him in pain. In spite of everything.
She killed for him.
I want to die.
And as soon as he admitted it, he didn’t want it anymore.
“Lorry, I think I need to get sober,” he said.
She turned over in the grass, whining a little bit.
“Me tooooooo. Why is it lasting so long?”
“No, like, permanently.”
“Oh.” She poked her head up. “Are you serious?”
His hand rested against his chest. He could feel his heart beating beneath it, quick and painful. The same frantic rhythm it’d been honing for years. He nodded.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
Her face turned back into the grass. He looked back up into the sky, waiting for his heart to settle down, waiting for meteors. Absently, her hand reached out for his own.
~
On the morning after his birthday party, Paris woke up with sick clarity, and he knew he’d done something he could never take back.
One week later, Delta was dead and the kingdom was lost.
~
Paris stood up roughly from the bathroom floor. He pulled a clean shirt over his head and combed his hair out with his fingers. 
As he looked up into the clouded mirror, he remembered the shards that had spilled out onto the floor of Delta’s room. He’d broken the mirror.
Seven years of bad luck.
He was sure he’d earned himself so much more than that.
~~~
tags:
@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump
@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire
@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen
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martyryo · 1 year ago
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mid au idea appealing only to me
#artists on tumblr#illustration#digital art#doodle#fight club#the narrator fight club#tyler durden#marla singer#alright so#those are all still very raw ideas but something is brewing in my brain#tw: suicide mention#all this thing came up from the drawing with the narrator smiling#in this au he doesn't suffer from insomnia and he has a good view on life#at some point he notices to experience during the day an increasing amount of intrusive thoughts#worried he might be suicidal he goes to a psychiatrist but after various session the guy tells him to attend one of those therapy groups#yk like the movie knfjknkajnf#there he meets marla who joined the group after a suicide attempt following a long period of drug abuse#(this is also including the marla bettering herself to care for the stray cat previously depicted on my blog huhu)#he's really annoying to her but with time she grows some affection towards him#after a while during a job trip he meets Tyler on a plane#in this au he's a very unlikable and edgy person lacking the charisma he has in the og fight club#they end up becoming friends and Tyler pushes the narrator in various risky activities#from the start he states that he's only an hallucination his brain created and nothing that they engage in is real#truth is he's an entity trying to make him off himself so he can get control over his body#ik this is very wattpad 2016 but#these ideas are growing on me#suggestions appreciated ehehfnefrkjg#also sorry for the shitty english#writing in tags doesn't help but didn't want a wall of text 🤭
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florenceisfalling · 11 months ago
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i have so much fun writing anti as such a specific brand of shitty guy that it makes me insane its so sad that i havent been posting writing of him consistently in years and all my old stuff is garbage. you guys would be insane for the shit i exchange with june on discord. my version of anti is so distant from canon in a lot of ways but not in his pathetic, attention whore, mockery-intolerant, "i will kill everyone in this room including myself" bullshit. like he's not scary because he's skilled or has self-control, he's scary because he will literally do whatever the fuck for attention. he will break his own bones and show up at your house sobbing about it. he will relapse and fuck his dealer and send you pictures of his own fresh and oozing cigarette burns alongside a text that says "wish you were here". he will threaten to kill himself and force you to watch. he will gut your boyfriend alive and deliver you a tape of it. he will break into your house while you're gone, cook you food and leave it on the stove with everything else inexplicably untouched. he will start impersonating you online and blackmail you so bad all your family members block your number. he will test every single boundary you give him. or, he will be self-indulgent, and just kidnap you to torture you every day. and he would rather you beat him to a pulp than abandon him or ignore him.
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the-west-meadow · 2 years ago
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Nowhere
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Kendall Roy x Reader
tw: suicidal thoughts, verbal abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, drunk driving
As you stood in the shade of Connor’s patio, watching Logan and his children walk towards the old adobe church, Kendall’s absence was painfully apparent. You had grown used to seeing him at his father’s side. But he had not come with his family to New Mexico. It was a shame, you thought; he would have liked it here.
Greg, standing beside you in a long peacoat, waved as they disappeared behind the wooden church doors.
“What do you think they’re going to talk about?” Greg said.
“Years of suppressed trauma, maybe.”
“Wow. You think?”
You shrugged. “They probably won’t get around to it.”
You strolled back towards the house, where the others were sitting by the pool. Anyone who was not a child of Logan Roy had been left behind. Marcia, Tom, and Willa eyed you as you entered the house with Greg.
Greg leaned on the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a shot of whiskey from the mini-bar.
“Getting right to it, huh?” said Greg.
“You want some?”
“I’m good. It’s a little early for my system.”
Tom strolled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.
“Hey, rascals. I see you breaking into the liquor stash. You should have invited me.”
“Well, you’re invited now,” joked Greg.
Tom leaned on the counter and grinned at you both.
“Here we are. The outcasts.”
“I’ll admit, I do feel kind of left out,” said Greg.
“God, wouldn’t you give anything to be a fly on the wall in that room? The whole thing is so uncomfortable it makes me want to puke. I love it.”
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name on the screen made your heart jump: Kendall Roy.
“Excuse me a second,” you said, slipping out of the kitchen.
“Is that a new lover?” Tom called after you. You jogged through the house to the room where you were staying and shut the door behind you.
“Hey, what’s up?” you said, keeping your voice low.
“Hey, Y/N. How you doing?”
“Surviving,” you said. “How are you?”
“Can you come meet me? I’m somewhere outside of Albuquerque.”
“What? When did you get here?”
“I’ll fill you in. Are you coming?”
“I’m at the ranch right now. I don’t have a car.”
“Can you figure something out?”
You thought fast, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re the best.”
You hung up, heart racing. You hadn’t heard from Kendall in weeks. He texted occasionally to check in, but it had been a long time since you heard his voice. It was a painful reminder of how much you had missed him lately.
Tom and Greg looked up as you walked into in the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Tom asked.
“Just a family thing,” you said.
“Oh, come on. You can’t have a personal life. There’s only work, work, work!”
Tom tossed back the rest of his drink and set his glass down.
“Okay, I’ll fuck off. Both of you come sit by the pool and save me from Marcia and Willa. I mean it.”
You and Greg watched until he was out the door, then Greg turned to you in anticipation.
“Well?”
“That was Kendall. He’s here.”
“Are you serious?”
“He wants me to meet him. But I don’t have a fucking car.”
“Right.” Greg glanced around as if looking for an answer. “Okay, I’m not supposed to know this, but there’s a collection of old cars in Connor’s garage. And, stupidly, all the keys are hanging on a rack in the garage. So if someone wanted to take one of those cars out for a drive while everyone was in therapy, I doubt anyone would notice for a few hours at least.”
“Cover for me. Make up a story.”
“Okay, yeah-“
But you were already gone.
You felt like a thief, skulking around the sides of the huge adobe ranch house, past the refurbished church and towards the unlocked garage. Lined up in the cool darkness were half a dozen vintage cars. Spotless. Expensive. Fueled up and ready to ride. You slowed down, taking your time to choose your ride. This was a once in a lifetime chance, after all. When Connor found out, you’d probably be banned from the state of New Mexico.
You chose an aqua 1967 Cadillac de Ville convertible. Sitting in the smooth leather seat, you watched with giddy panic as the garage door opened. Then you gunned it, kicking up a cloud of red dust as you escaped down the long ranch road from Connor’s estate.
The roads in New Mexico were long, straight, and empty. Gnarled barbed wire fences emerged from the scrublands, and distant mountains rolled beneath white clouds. It was the antithesis of what you were used to in New York. Here, everything was low to the ground, wild, free. You flew down the roads, the wind roaring all around you.
It was an hour’s drive to Albuquerque. You kept driving until you reached a diner in a small desert town beyond the city. When you rolled into the parking lot, you saw Kendall standing outside, smoking. Your heart swelled at the familiar sight of him. He stared as the aqua Cadillac parked squarely in front of him.
You cut the engine.
“Hey,” you called.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
Kendall strolled up to the car, looking it over. Then he shook his head and let out a short laugh.
“Alright. Not really what I had in mind. But it’s cool.”
As he came closer, you were able to take a good look at him. He looked different. He was tan from the desert sun, dressed in a denim jacket and black jeans. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. There was also an edginess, a restlessness to his movements that you didn’t recognize.
He dropped his cigarette, stepped on it, and put his hands in his pockets. You could feel him taking you in behind his dark shades.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“You too.”
“Let’s figure out a game plan. I feel like I just landed on an alien planet.”
You sat across from Kendall in the booth, squinting in the hard sunlight that slanted through the window. The waiter brought two mugs of hot coffee. You sipped it gratefully, feeling it nudge against your dull headache. As the waiter stepped away, you took in the sight of Kendall sitting across from you.
“How long have you been here?” you asked.
“A few days. Just clearing my head.”
“You seem good.”
“I feel good.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. “How have things been for you while I was gone?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I don’t have many allies.”
“You and Greg seem pretty tight.”
“I guess so. You cling to each other for survival when you have an insane boss.”
“Pretty bad, huh?”
“It wasn’t this bad when you were around. You’re like a path through the insanity.”
“Well, thanks. But I’ve done plenty of fucked up things, too.”
“It’s different. This borders on abuse.”
Kendall looked alarmed. “Hold on, you don’t mean, like—“
“No, no. Nothing like that. Just psychological shit.”
“Are you okay, though?”
“I’m coping.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m drinking a lot more.”
Kendall nodded, still peering at you intently. “Uh-huh.”
You gazed into the steaming coffee for a moment before voicing the question that was on your mind.
“Does this mean you’re back?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still working up the courage to see my family.”
He didn’t say any more. The waiter brought your food; huevos rancheros. Kendall stuck with coffee. He watched you dig in with a slight smile.
“You seem like you’re thriving here. Big blue Cadillac. Local cuisine.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s very different here.”
“Seriously. I feel like never get to see the real you. We’re always under the cloud of my dad. You know what I mean?”
You nodded. ”Everyone’s been on eggshells around him this week. I don’t know how you live with it.”
“It’s fucking torture.”
He was smiling, but you could see the pain in his dark eyes.
“Are you going to eat anything?” you finally asked.
“Not that hungry. I guess the desert’s making an ascetic out of me.”
He smiled again and looked down at his hands, turning his sunglasses over and over. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting through the entire meal. You set your fork down and slid your empty plate to the side.
“Hey,” he said, “How long can you be away?”
“At least until someone notices the car is gone.”
“Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”
You drove the Cadillac as Kendall leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the desert fly past. An orange glow filled the sky as the sun sank lower.
“How far do you want to go tonight?” he asked.
Your heart skipped. “What are you asking?”
He laughed. “Jesus. Not like that. I mean how far do you want to drive? Mexico?”
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
You looked at him, and you still couldn’t tell. The sun was beginning to sink, casting long shadows on the black road. The mountains grew darker in the distance. Kendall leaned forward, peering out at the desert.
“Let’s stop up here for a second.”
You slowed the car, pulling to the side of the road. Low music drifted from the radio. You cut the engine, suddenly surrounded by a deafening silence. Kendall went very still, listening.
“This is a good place,” he said in a soft voice. He opened his door and started out. “Come on.”
You followed. Small jackrabbits leapt out of your way on the path, which was surrounded by yellow-flowering creosote. A low breeze set everything in motion; the shrubs, the sand, the furtive animals.
You climbed a low plateau that overlooked the sprawling desert. Kendall stood taking it all in. He pulled a small baggy from his pocket and flicked it with his fingernail. You watched in alarm as he dispensed a small amount onto the flesh of his thumb and sniffed sharply. His body seemed to relax. His expression grew lighter. He looked at you almost apologetically, as if awaiting your judgement.
“Yeah. Sorry. This is what I’ve really been doing.”
It was all starting to make sense. The restlessness, the edginess. The fact that he had been here for days without telling anyone.
“Shit, Kendall,” you murmured.
“I’m okay.”
“Are you, though?”
“Not really. You?”
You looked at his hands, which still held the bag of coke. Without a word, Kendall tapped out a rough line of powder onto the flesh of his thumb and offered it to you. You leaned forward, pressing one nostril closed, and snorted it off his hand. When you sat up, the world was reeling. The sunset had turned everything to flame. You looked at Kendall and smiled.
“I’m glad you came here,” you said.
“I’m sorry I left you alone with them. I just didn’t want to bring you down with me.”
“I’d rather work for you. I feel like I’m going to have a fucking panic attack when your dad comes into a room.”
“Now you know what my entire life’s been like.” He smiled. “If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into me.”
You turned to look at him. “But I admire you more than anyone.”
Kendall laughed. Tears slowly rose in his eyes.
“Wow. Never thought I’d hear those words.”
He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m serious,” you said.
“You know, my dad never praises anyone. But everything I do is for him, just hoping that one day he’ll look up and say that I did a good job.”
You sat for a long time watching the sunset until the sky grew purple and dark. Eventually you wavered to your feet, then held out your hand for Kendall. With a big heave, you got him to his feet. He stumbled forward into your arms, then leaned heavily into you. You put your arms hesitantly on his back, feeling the dampness of his shirt. He rested his forehead on your shoulder.
“I missed you,” he said.
You squeezed your arms tighter around him.
“I missed you too.”
He quietly withdrew from your arms. You began to scramble down the plateau, busting your asses several times. By the time you reached the bottom, you were cracking up, covered in dirt. Kendall doubled over with laughter, his hands on his knees, wiping tears from his eyes. Then he looked up and smiled: that big, heart-melting smile.
Your heart suddenly grew warm, despite the oncoming desert cold. As you drove, you snuck a glance at Kendall. His face was turned towards the red sunset, glowing with happiness. A false happiness, you knew. But he deserved all that he could get.
As you pulled up the driveway to Connor’s ranch, you saw a tall figure running out to meet you. It was Greg. Kendall hopped out of the car and pulled Greg to him in a hug.
“What up, Greg?”
“Hey man, I’m really happy to see you but I also have bad news. Turns out those cars are highly precious to Connor. Also, Logan is pretty unhappy about the situation.”
“Does he know I’m here?” Kendall said.
“Well, yeah. It was hard to explain otherwise.”
“That’s what he’s unhappy about. My dad doesn’t give a shit about the car.”
Kendall started towards the house with you and Greg following close behind.
“Is he okay?” Greg said quietly.
You just shook your head. “I don’t think he should be here right now.”
It was cool and silent inside the adobe house. Then, the unmistakable boom of Logan’s voice shook the air.
“Where the fuck are they?”
Kendall seemed to waver in his tracks, then forged ahead towards the kitchen.
Everyone stood together, waiting. They fell silent as you entered the room.
“Has everyone resolved their familial issues?” Kendall said as he strolled forward.
“Jesus, is he high?” said Shiv.
“Are you blind?” said Roman. “He’s completely fucking wasted.”
Logan made a beeline for you, causing your heart to drop steeply.
“I should have you fucking arrested. Car theft, drug possession. What else?”
“Hey, fuck off,” Kendall said, stepping between you. “She was just doing what I asked.”
Logan’s eyes pierced through you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the vice grip of his gaze.
“Don’t you know him better than that? You’re his fucking assistant, no?”
“Actually, she’s my assistant,” Tom said in a low voice, but Logan didn’t hear.
“Yeah, she got loaded with me,” Kendall said, raising his voice. “That’s because she’s my only friend in this shitstorm of a life.”
Logan turned to Kendall, looking him dead in the eye. “You don’t deserve a life.”
Then, jabbing a finger at you: “And you’re fucking fired.”
Logan turned and walked away. Kendall was still reeling from the blow his father had just delivered. He looked like he was about to fall over from the force of it.
“She doesn’t work for you!” Kendall managed.
“Technically, she works for me,” Tom said, still unnoticed.
“Then you get rid of her,” Logan said to Kendall. “She’s not good for you.”
Logan turned and stalked out of the room. Kendall just stared after him, shaking. Finally, he seemed to snap out of it.
“Come on,” he said to you. You followed as he stormed away, painfully aware of the stares of his family as you left.
“You got the keys?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Get in that car.”
“Jesus, Kendall-“
“Then give them to me. They can say I stole it.”
You didn’t hesitate to toss him the keys. You hopped into the passenger’s seat. Kendall started the car, peeling down the ranch road with red dust glowing in the taillights.
Kendall tore down the straight desert road, headlights cutting through a thick darkness.
“I didn’t want my dad to hurt you.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”
He was silent as he continued to drive, eyes fixed ahead. Finally he spoke.
“Y/N, I am so sorry. This is my fault.”
You couldn’t argue that, but you also couldn’t blame him. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Work for me,” he said.
You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was serious.
“It’s either that or go back to my dad, begging for a job.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“I know. So I’m rehiring you as my assistant. Actually, I’m promoting you to senior advisor.”
“What does that involve?”
“Getting drunk with me until we both forget the pain.”
You bought a bottle of tequila at a nearby ABC store in the next town, then stopped at the first motel you saw, a cheap but clean place called The Desert Flower. You were both crashing from the cocaine. Kendall’s eyes were bleary and red, his face dark with stubble. He was going down fast. You sat in the car, taking turns with the bottle, unable to even make it to the room.
“I’m sick of wanting to fucking die.”
“Kendall…”
“You heard him, right? He said I don’t deserve a life. That’s how he makes me feel. Every day.”
You heard his voice break. Tears streamed down his face.
“What would it take? For him to smile at me once, to pat me on the fucking back? What do I have to do?”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
He stared at you, and for a moment it looked like his entire world was crashing down around him. You saw the loss playing out behind his eyes as he realized the truth of your words. Then he leaned forward, put his hand on the back of your head, and kissed you.
You didn’t hesitate to respond. Everything was falling apart, but at least you could feel the warmth of him, his searching hands, his desperate mouth. You squeezed his wrist as his hand gripped your thigh. Then you both suddenly pulled back.
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He was still holding your hand tightly. You wouldn’t let go. You both caught your breath, reeling from the touch.
“I need to go inside,” he said.
He leaned on your shoulder on the way into the room. When you got inside, he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing. You got down on the floor with him, stroking his back, trying to talk to him. But he didn’t seem to hear. He curled up on the floor, totally unresponsive, rocking himself as he wept.
You didn’t know what to do. The Kendall you knew was suddenly gone. You could only think of one ally who could still help you: Greg.
Need help, you texted.
Where are you?
You sent him the address of the motel. He responded immediately.
I’ll be there as soon as I can.
You finally got Kendall off the floor and onto the bed. He huddled there like a frightened child.
An hour passed. You heard a car pull up and saw headlights flare through the curtains. When you opened the door, Greg was sitting there in a red convertible. You laughed, unable to help it.
Greg got out of the car, looking completely out of place.
“Yeah, I know…” he sighed, looking at the car. “There aren’t many Ubers in the middle of nowhere.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Just Tom. He said he’d cover for me. So we’ll see how that goes.”
He peered past you into the room.
“How’s Kendall?”
“Not good.”
“What about you? You don’t look so good yourself.”
“I just need someone here to make sure one of us doesn’t die.”
“Okay, yeah. We should definitely try and prevent that.”
You moved aside, letting Greg through. Kendall was still curled on the bed, his head tucked into his arms.
You sat beside Greg on the edge of your bed, talking in low voices as you gazed at Kendall.
“What have you guys been doing?”
“A lot of coke and tequila.”
“Wow. So a pretty serious binge, then.”
“I think I’m in over my head.”
You gazed at Kendall, who had withdrawn so far into himself that you didn’t know if he was aware of your presence.
“I thought I could help him,” you said.
“That’s more than anyone else has done for him.”
“Why don’t they try to help him?”
“Honestly, I don’t think his family knows how to see him as a person. They only think of themselves.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired. I don’t know why I even want to work for them.”
“I frequently ask myself the same question. But even though they kind of suck, I still like them.”
“They’re your family.”
“That’s true.”
Greg looked thoughtful. “Then why do you stick around?”
You gave a slight nod towards Kendall’s sleeping form.
“I want to see him win. Not for anyone else. For himself.”
You couldn’t see it in the darkness, but a tear gathered in the corner of Kendall’s closed eye and slid down the bridge of his nose, then was gone.
Greg slept on the floor between your beds. You gave him half of your pillows and the top sheet of your bed.
Sometime in the night, both Greg and Kendall began to snore lightly. You could feel their resting forms in the darkness, the hum of the air conditioner, the traffic slowly streaming by outside. Cars rumbled in and out of the parking lot. Doors open and shut. Everything moved slow in the late hours of the night, the early morning.
They weren’t your family, but you loved them. You didn’t belong among them, but you had made a place for yourself in their lives. And they had become an inseparable part of yours. You held onto this thought as you waited out the long night.
It was early, and you were just beginning to fall asleep, when you heard vague sounds of movement in the room. You felt someone crawl into the bed with you. It was Kendall. He drew himself close, facing your curled form, mirroring it with his own body. He pressed his forehead against yours and reached pleadingly for your hands. You twined your fingers around his.
“Hey,” he whispered. He sounded as if he had been crying.
“Hey.”
You felt his hands for the first time, stroking them with your fingers. He held tightly to you, drawing himself as close as possible.
“Am I going to be okay?” he rasped.
You put your hand on the back of his head. He was shaking, tears dampening the pillow.
“I promise.”
You held him for a long time, until his breathing calmed and he finally stopped shaking. He never let go of your hands, never moved. Your knees touched, arms intertwined. When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. Neither of you said anything. He stroked your hand with his thumb.
Greg groaned from the floor, and both of you went still, listening. Then you started to giggle.
“Where the fuck am I?” Greg mumbled, rolling over in his sheets, still half asleep.
Kendall snorted, and you shushed him, still trying not to laugh. You could still see tears in his eyes. But he was smiling.
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compassionatereminders · 10 months ago
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hi this is kinna out of the blue and no one sent you an ask about this but today i gave myself my testosterone shot and i’ve been on T for two months and even though i haven’t had many changes yet for the first time in over a decade i’m feeling so much better about my body again. it took me until i was 34 years to transition despite knowing i wanted to since i was 19 because i live in the southern united states and they only NOW got informed consent in my state. i tried in my twenties and was put through the wringer, told my PDs or autism was making me “think” i was a man, i ended up in a domestic violence situation with a misogynist and transphobe i’m still recovering from, i had a child too, i went through drug addiction and alcohol abuse, i attempted suicide several times
AND i just wanted to spread the positivity to every trans person out there (trans men, women, nb people) that things DO GET BETTER! it makes me cry thinking about it and how i finally get to be the man, and father i always wanted to be and i am not an emotional person. if any other trans ppl no matter the age want HRT and feel like it’s never going to happen, don’t give up! keep fighting!! you won’t die this way! i don’t know how many times i imagined getting misgendered at my own funeral and dying known only as my assigned gender at birth.
keep going and stay strong and safe!!
I'm really sorry you've had to struggle through all that pain, bigotry and abuse - and it makes my day that now you're on T and feeling like it's all been worth the wait! ✊️
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