#suicide and drugs and abuse

[wahbegan]

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

[neuroticboyfriend]

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.

[aftgficrec]

Can you please suggest fics where neil and bee have more interactions. Or even ones about andrew and bee talking about neil or anything else

Btw I really really appreciate everything yall do! God bless you.

Here is what we found for you. -A

Neil/andreil talk to Bee:

Neil goes to therapy here

‘we softly stir the violence’ and ‘Healing’ series parts 1 & 3 here

‘“I wish I'd never…”’ here

‘Andrew Minyards Crystal’ here

‘pain our brain has made’ here (updated)

‘not to blame for falling’ series and ‘sidelines’ here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ series here (completed)

‘Andrew and Neil's guide to getting better’ series here

‘True Love Waits’ series here

‘Cyberstalking’ here

‘Promises’ here

‘A Taste of Your Own Medicine’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ and ‘Ghost of You’ here

‘A collection of Andreil one-shots’ ch 3 here

‘I Don't Know’ here

‘The Destination Was Always Forever’ (updated), ‘Minyard-Josten Rivalry’ (updated), ‘sunrise, abram’ series, ‘and in a flash, it's gone.’ series part 2, and ‘Stay Where I Can Reach’ here

Andrew talks to Bee about Neil:

previous ask here

‘Unspoken’ here

‘AFTG Drabbles’ parts 1 & 8 here

‘Paper Cut Hearts’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘words can't warm the windows of my soul’ here

‘The Hand That Needs Me’ here

‘Mother Mannequin’ here

‘Anything’ here

‘the icarus to your certainty’ here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

‘Can we can pretend like we're (not) in love?’ here

Neil Josten is Not Fine by Anonymous [Rated T, 3362 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 day 31: asking for help | therapy | “i’m alive, i’m just not well”

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

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?) by phan_taloon [Rated M, 15415 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Previously recced here

AU where Neil never met the Foxes, with a little less mafia and a little more pain for Neil when he ends up captured by Nathan for months, and has to deal with the consequences by himself. He ends up in treatment for chronic pain with opioids, and let's just say opioid use is tricky when you're alone and in pain; one thing can lead to another more easily than it seems.

tw: drug addiction, tw: drug overdose, tw: withdrawal, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: vomit

an acquired taste the asbestos is lovely by cyanica [Rated M, 6617 Words, Complete, 2024, Locked]

“What did you take?” Andrew demands. Neil wonders if Andrew will taste all that is wrong with Neil when he kisses him. He wonders if Andrew will recognize it. Andrew knows what it is to hurt himself, and this must be familiar. It’s deja vu, Neil thinks, if only a little bit worse, a little more terrible. Neil shakes his head, groaning into the toilet, “I don’t want to tell you.” Andrew pulls out his phone, and Neil can already hear it dialling when he says, “You can tell the paramedics.” Or; “Cigarettes,” Neil says. “I ate your cigarettes.”

tw: self harm, tw: overdose, tw: pica, tw: eating disorders, tw: vomit, tw: blood, tw: mental breakdown, tw: implied/referenced abuse

If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues) by Intangibel (duskbutterfly) [Rated T, 125462 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Previously recced here

What if the threat of Aaron being charged with murder was more significant and Neil found out that he could prevent Andrew from having to be at the trial if he were to testify. What would he be willing to sacrifice to achieve that? What if instead of refusing to testify for Aaron, Neil decides to make a deal with the FBI to become their witness against his father if they’ll backstop his current identity. He thinks it means signing his death warrant and losing the Foxes. Betsy, Aaron and the Foxes are determined to convince him it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, his father’s people are coming for him and that’s not even starting on what Andrew will have to say about Neil choosing to martyr himself.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: scars, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: homophobia, tw: conversion camp reference, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

The Sun Still Rises by mordax [Rated E, 474451 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2024]

Previously recced here

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

tw: violence, tw: anxiety, tw: panic attacks,  tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug use, tw: involuntary sedation, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

NB: find fanart for this fic by @/elidanus on twitter here

Ain’t it fun by jemejem [Rated T (we say M) 30672 Words, Complete, 2018]

Neil can't sleep. Andrew can't feel. High school is going well for the both of them.

tw: homophobia, tw: mental breakdown, tw: anxiety, tw: depression, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: scars, tw: ptsd, tw: psychological trauma, tw: flashbacks

I been here all along (so why can't you see?) by alexcherry [Rated G, 8691 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew leans on the counter beside Neil's thigh. "Where do you want to go, Josten? What favor do you need from me?" Neil looked at Andrew and steeled himself. "I want you to come with me to the next therapy session with Betsy posing as my boyfriend." "Like one," Andrew thought for a moment. "Couple therapy?" Neil perked up. "Yes! Exactly, and then we see how long it takes her to find out we're not connected at all."

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder

If You Need Shelter by AfraidOfBananas [Rated M, 2642 Words, Complete, 2021]

“The boy is staring at Neil with a startled expression like he’s just seen a ghost. Well, maybe he has. Neil hasn’t felt alive for a very long time.” Or.....Neil meets Andrew while he’s on the run

Family by BlueJay26 [Not Rated, 9420 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Three adults who certainly proved this was true, and their (sort of) children who realised a family isn't always linked by blood. Also known as, how Abby, Bee and Wymack earned their family's love and trust.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: internalized homophobia

Art

Abby and Betsy art by @rainbowd00dles 

Betsy 💕💕 art by @neroholik

Mom and Dad and Mom art by @llstarcasterll

Betsy and Abby 💖 art by @jeannemaybedarc

Betsy Dobson cosplay by @/toobeetofunction on instagram

@drbetsydobson instagram account/moodboard

[billybigbang2024]

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...

[drinkinboilingcoffee]

Is this meme dead. I’m not elaborating.

@glitch-1983

[smileymxx]

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 🥰

[captainjamster]

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

“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.”

banners by cafekitsune

[martyryo]

mid au idea appealing only to me

[florenceisfalling]

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.

[the-west-meadow]

Nowhere

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.

[paingoes]

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

[aftgficrec]

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here 

 ‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

Christmas at Evermore here plus song rec ‘Far From Home (The Raven)’ here

Proust here plus ‘if you really love nothing’ here

Neil’s a hallucination here

Andreil meet in Easthaven here

‘just a slow body’ here

‘Will you be there when I come back?’ here

‘Here With You’ here (complete)

‘i'm here right now (just be here right now with me)’ here 

‘We're All Stories In The End’ here

‘Spirits In My Head’ here 

‘Fold me in your palms’ here

‘The Raven Prince’ here

‘Thanks, Matty’ here

‘Lullaby’ here

Random Rec - Andrew Minyard playlists round up here

Just a Pipe Dream by loveroulettes [Rated T, 2781 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Summer 2021, Locked]

Andrew thought coming off drugs will get rid of all side-effects, so why is Neil still here? AKA the scene where Neil picks up the cigarette from the ground and smokes it, but from Andrew’s POV

tw: implied/referenced abuse

reckless/i like it by Willow_bird [Rated M, 27259 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

One thing didn’t seem to have changed since getting off the drugs. One thing almost seemed to have gotten worse. ”The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?” “If it means losing you, then no.” --- 5 times Andrew realized this something he had for Neil was, well, treacherous + 1 time he admitted (at least to himself) that he liked it

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: kidnapping, tw: choking, tw: implied/referenced torture

In the rain by Lyndis [Rated G, 1147 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 2 of Quick and Dirty, parts 3 and 15 here

Andrew is off his drugs for the first time in years. No one knows he is back from Easthaven and he just wants to see Neil.

Time Machine by Marquee [Rated G, 137 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 4 of Aftg Poetry

Andrew wanting to kiss Neil on the roof, but he isn’t sure he should. But like a poem?? Yeah.

Tumblr Prompts by lipsstainedbloodred [Not Rated, Collection, 2018] 

Chapter 13: Page 12: What if Neil didn’t go with the monsters to pick up Andrew from Easthaven (Andreil) [T, 2434 Words] 

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault

his solace by orphan_account [Rated M, 2292 Words, Complete, 2016]

Andrew’s first thought of Neil Josten was ‘fake’. He was a boy who was clearly lying, clearly pretending to be something he wasn’t; or at least, something he didn’t want to be. Andrew’s next thought of Neil Josten was ‘dangerous’. He was too attractive for Andrew to ignore, whilst single-handedly being the biggest flight risk he’d ever met. Neil looked for exits everywhere he went, and Andrew hated him for it.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence

Silent Words by Jeni182 [Rated M, Collection, Complete, 2018]

Chapter 2: Colors [T] Andrew hates color. It’s part of the reason why he’s always in black. It’s just easier. The color doesn’t make his eyes hurt. He doesn’t have to think about shit matching. It deters people, a lot of times.

When You Were Young by SpookyMiscreant [Rated T, 1831 Words, Complete, 2017]

It starts when the monsters pick up Andrew from Easthaven. Andrew sits on the roof of Fox Tower and contemplates Neil Josten now that he's sober. Set to the background music of When You Were Young by The Killers.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied referenced child abuse and neglect

this hole you put in me (wasn't deep enough) by gaygoyle [Rated T, 3368 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil blames himself for not doing more for Andrew while he's at Easthaven. So, Neil returns the one thing he knows even with his ban- Exy.

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

Shades of Sunset by darkbluebox [Rated T, 1885 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew is five years old, and he thinks orange is the most beautiful colour in the world. Twenty years in the life of Andrew Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced csa

Tell Me How You Hate Me by Killingmeslowly_24 [Rated T, 30532 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Next to Kevin sat a man who was roughly Neil-shaped, but that was where the similarities ended. Because Neil was brown hair, wide eyes, and a skittish demeanor. Neil was hidden smiles and questions and questions, so many goddamn questions, and- No. This wasn’t Neil. This man was a collage of bandages and bruises, hair bathed in flame. This man was a slack jaw and blue eyes, blue like ice, like an ocean, like drowning, too much like freedom for Andrew’s comfort. ... Or, The King's Men from Andrew's POV

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: violence, tw: dissociation, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks

Bury it deep down, keep it under your skin by All_for_the_andreil [Rated T, 2123 Words, Complete, 2023]

He only wants to jump off the roof half the time. He supposes that’s progress too. The other half he’s only thinking about it in theory. How many bones would he break? Would he die on impact, like his mother did, or would it take some time? Would he feel the pain, or would it be just pure shock? Would he laugh as he fell? -or- Andrew's life told in snippets

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: canonical character death

Promptober 2023 by djinthehouse [Rated T, Collection, Updated Oct 2023]

Chapter 2: Falling into his reverse based on the song, The drug in me is you, by Falling in reverse

tw: referenced drug overdose, tw: canonical character death, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: psychological abuse, tw: gun violence, tw: murder

Chapter 4: Weak for the Boy This is based of the song, Weak by AJR it is kind of the opposite of Falling into his Reverse. 

tw: referenced nonconsensual drug use, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: blood, tw: psychological abuse

drop the game by Joana789 [Rated T, 1647 Words, Complete, 2017]

Then, the pills are gone. The buzzing in his veins is gone. The too-bright colors of the world are gone, everything back to its overwhelming dullness again. Neil Josten is, startlingly, still there.

tw: implied/referenced torture

but i’ll know, i’ll know by neilpipedreamjosten10 [Rated T, 2709 Words, Incomplete, Updated Nov 2023]

After Andrew comes back from Easthaven, Neil is missing, and Andrew is the only one who remembers who he is. But Neil never left Edgar Allen. *** This takes place during TKM, a what-if? fic where Andrew returns and finds that Neil was like a figment of his imagination, but now he has to save the runaway.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: referenced overdose, tw: referenced suicide, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: torture

Lost (I Don’t Want To Be) by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 2 of Someone(s) To Stay 

Kevin didn't respond, couldn't, and he suspected Riko knew that as his next words oozed with some sort of satisfaction. "I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads up, as a… let's say Christmas present. Your precious Nathaniel's getting inked. It's a shame Jean already got three, it would've suited the little Wesninski."

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

NB: kandrew/developing kandreil

meta

*tw: may include references to Andrew’s canon trauma and suicidal thoughts

Andrew's time at Easthaven meta by series author @korakos [Tumblr, 2015]

Neil didn’t make Andrew want to live. He gave Andrew a reason to give into that want. meta by @haletostilinski [Tumblr, 2016]

The Extraordinary Strength of Andrew Minyard meta by @imaginedmelody [Tumblr, 2016]

the drugs went away and neil was still the same meta by @miniyrds [Tumblr 2016]

after they pick Andrew up at Easthaven meta by @evil-diabolical-oops [Tumblr, 2016]

andrew hates neil meta by @kickfoxing [Tumblr, 2017]

can you imagine Andrew coming back from reliving weeks of abuse… meta by @boris-pavlikcvsky [Tumblr 2017]

Midnight Thoughts about Andreil meta by @saltierthanbottomofapretzelbag [Tumblr, 2018]

Was "If it means losing you, then no" the final nail in the coffin? meta by @blogaboutyafavbirdboys [Tumblr, 2019]

meta about andrew and caring and wanting things by @sinistercacophony [Tumblr, 2020]

thoughts/feelings/deeper meaning of the (rooftop keys/cigarette) scene? meta by @bloody-wonder [Tumblr, 2020]

andrew thinking that neil was just a side-effect of the drugs meta by @twirlingflurry, @buriedinbaltimore [Tumblr 2021]

how utterly, heartbreakingly sad it is that Andrew calls Neil a pipe dream meta by @fortheloveofexy [Tumblr, 2022]

“You were supposed to be a side-effect of the drugs” meta by @sepulchralblues [Tumblr, 2023]

he cannot be real, he has to be a hallucination meta by @neveranniething [Tumblr, 2023]

neil just gives andrew his bands and knives meta by @grooviestguru [Tumblr, 2023]

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated  2018] 

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words]  Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

[compassionatereminders]

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! ✊️

[ihat3ev3rything]

replaced the tears with drugs.

[tea-and-secrets]

Sometimes I just genuinely want to die

I've been suicidal for 10 years now and I'm just,,, so tired man, I've never attempted anything, I've never hurt myself, even if sometimes I really want to

I never will kill myself because I don't want to hurt my family but God I want to, I want to die, I want to just feel nothing instead of pain and heartbreak and feeling like a failure,, I always feel like a failure and a disappointment and fuck sometimes I just want to curl up and die

I know how I would do it too, as much as I think about it, i wouldn't be able to hang myself,,, there's no where to do it, I would want pills. Just an entire bottle of sleeping pills. Take them when my family all goes to bed and just go to sleep and never wake up

But my government banned those sleeping pills because people were using them for suicide so now there's only melatonin and that won't work

Like I said I'm not going to kill myself, I just sometimes wish I was dead or never existed or even if I was abused so I would feel like I have a reason for being so sad and upset

But I'm not, , I have a loving family, an adoring partner, I'm making new friends and I'm starting school again soon, there's no reason for me to be this depressed but,,, here I am

<3

[effemimaniac]

this post sucks lol can't we leave this bullshit in 2015. pharma companies wish they were allowed to say this. but they can't because it is demonstrably false. signed someone who was made suicidal by antidepressants (among other deleterious effects!) with zero prior history of suicidality.