#suicide tw for the tags ahead

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[deadtower]

i’m just so tired. and hurt. and upset. and it wasn’t even my fault this time

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Every time. EVERY time.

[h3xc0de]

who up thinking about the time ur "friend" who used you as their personal suicide lifeline during the darkest time of your own fuckin life literally drank bleach while you were on the phone with them actively begging them not to kill themself which you have a flashback to every single time you hear a person coughing 🙋

[blueseakelp]

i know dreams aren’t real, but how am i supposed to come back from the way people are in them?

[cordelialives]

i wrote something super cool here and then had a breakdown in the tags so uhhhhh

[annwrites]

one in the same. part eleven.

— pairing: otto hightower x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you make a confession to otto & see only one way out after all you've done.

— tw: suicide attempt, ottocent, talk of incestuous feelings

— word count: 2,873

— tagging list: @ohsnapitzmarvelficrec @tvangelism @emilynissangtr

You’ve been…not yourself since the night your husband left for Dragonstone, and you deigned to dishonor him.

You’ve not left your chambers, have hardly eaten, and have spent most of your time either crying or sleeping, a nauseating pit constantly settled into the core of your stomach. 

You finally see yourself for exactly what you are now, even if you refuse to so much as look at yourself in the mirror—you’ve thrown a sheet over the one atop your vanity—a horrid, wretched creature, filled with…revolting desires. Desires that have suddenly burnt out, leaving you feeling hollow in their stead.

Just the thought of sexual intimacy fills you with dread now. 

How could you have done it? How?

Otto had pulled you back from the edge, tended to you, loved you, cared for you, provided for you, and you’ve repaid him with attempted adultery. With incest.

He’ll never forgive you. And you will deserve it. You deserve to be alone after this.

You do not want to tell him, simply because you do not wish to break his heart, but you’ve no other choice. You cannot live with this terrible secret, and he deserves honesty. 

When Otto returns to you, you cling to him. For a long while. 

Tears sting your eyes while bile rises in your throat, but you remain silent as he threads his fingers in your hair.

“I’ve returned to you, my darling. In one piece. You needn’t have worried for a moment.”

You squeeze your eyes shut more tightly, willing this moment to last.

His first day back, and it begins with you shredding his heart in two.

“I need to tell you something,” you whisper.

He leans back, cupping your cheek with furrowed brows. “Are you…”

He glances down, settling a hand gently over your stomach.

How you wish that were the case. Even if you do not desire it, that would be easier to live with than this.

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek, falling from your chin. 

You silently take his hand within your own, leading him over to the settee before the fire, refusing to so much as meet his eyes. 

“I—” You stop, trying to calm your stomach. “You’d been right in being concerned the night you left and I went to my father. Concerned with what I might…do.”

Otto straightens, studying you silently.

He does not speak a word.

“I… He was asleep. I lied to Ser Harrold. Told him I had left a book and was retrieving it.”

You digs the nails from one of your hands into the back of the other. “I was dressed in only a robe. I took it off. I pulled down his sheets and…exposed him to myself. He remained asleep all the while, thank the Gods.”

He’d been so incredibly right in pulling away from you that day. You’d made him uncomfortable, and now you could see why quite clearly. To have done it all without his consent… Vile girl.

“I touched myself,” you say tearfully, your chin wobbling. “With no care for you. For our marriage. I thought of only one person that night: myself. Ever since… I’ve not left our room. I can’t…I can’t even bear the sight of myself now.”

You bury your face in your hands, your body shaking as you sob. “I’m so sorry, Otto! Gods, I’m so sorry.”

He stares ahead into the fire, not so much as giving you a comforting word or touch or gesture.

The only sound which fills the silence is your quiet sobs as you double over, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Finally, he stands without another word, exiting your chambers, and you race to your chamberpot, and vomit.

When Otto returns, it is quite late, and you are already in bed, but not asleep. You can't rest. Not anymore.

Your mind had raced all the while during his absence. 

Will he desire for himself a divorce now? You would not blame him. But he would need seek your father’s permission to obtain it. And what reasoning would he give him?

You know it would not be the truth. 

Otto’s side of the mattress dips under his weight, and he quickly settles into place, keeping a wide berth between the two of you.

You raise a fist to your lips, biting down on it, trying to keep quiet. Not wanting to disturb him with further tears or apologies he doesn’t wish to hear.

You turn slightly, speaking to him over your shoulder. “Do you wish for me to sleep elsewhere?”

There’s a long, silent pause. 

“You may do as you wish,” is his curt reply.

You rise then, padding over to the settee, and you lie down, closing your eyes.

You pray you never wake.

It has been a fortnight since your confession to your husband and you’ve returned to your old ways in that time: sleeping as much as possible, and eating as little as.

You’ve dropped a considerable amount of weight, but it matters little to you. Everything does now. The only thing you can think about is your husband.

Not even the news of your father’s impending marriage to Alicent had interested you, even if it had become clear quite-quickly that Otto had already been aware such arrangements were being made.

Weeks ago, you would've been livid. At all of them. Would've argued relentlessly with with your husband over it all. Enough so that you're sure you would've still driven your marriage to the brink with heated, cruel words as you were driven mad by the prospect of anyone else having your father.

Now, you see that the two of you are not nearly as close as you'd once believed. You'd kept secrets from he, and he from you.

Mayhaps...the two of you were never meant to be to begin with...

The handful of times you’ve tried to touch Otto, he has brushed off the tender gestures. He has not spoken to you unless you’ve done so first, and his replies to you have been minimal in nature.

He hates you now. You know that with certainty. And you understand it completely. 

You deserve it. Deserve…many terrible things, in truth.

The one thing you never did deserve was him.

And so you mean to do the only thing you can. 

You will set him free.

During your last dinner with your husband, you are warm and kind, even if he does not speak to you.

You tell him how you love him. How you will always be grateful for all he’s done for you. How your marriage to him has meant everything to you; had repaired your broken heart. How he is a good, and intelligent, and wonderful man.

He had eventually snapped at you—bidding you be quiet—that he did not wish to hear a further words from your lips.

You’d merely smiled and nodded, and told him ‘of course’ before growing quiet again.

While he is asleep, you write him a short note, ensuring him he should not feel guilty. That if and when he is ready, he should move on with someone worthy of him. That he should never spare you a second thought ever again.

You are easily forgettable; replaceable.

He need merely give it time, and he will soon see.

You seal your letter with a kiss, settling it atop his desk, before silently padding out to the balcony, climbing up, until you are gripping a column, your feet planted atop the railing as you stare down at the stories upon stories beneath you. 

You hope it will be quick. You don’t wish to suffer, but you will understand if you are made to.

Your eyes flutter closed and a cool breeze kisses your skin.

Your heart pounds, because in truth, you are terrified. 

You don’t wish to die…not entirely. Merely because you are afraid of what will come after. But this is the only way. You must do this. For him.

You cannot bear the thought of him being forced to live the rest of his days with a wife by his side which he despises. He’d been right to feel such a way toward you in the first place. 

He should’ve never accompanied you that day to the Sept. Should’ve never given you a moment of kindess. 

You’d not deserved it. Not once.

You solidify yourself—harden your heart—and take a moment to listen to the silence you will soon become a part of.

Maybe you will find peace this way at last.

Something you've never truly had.

“Gods forgive me,” you whisper, ready to let go.

“Don’t!”

Your feet nearly slip from the railing as you turn to look over your shoulder with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I must,” you tell him calmly. “You can let me go. It’s alright now. I do this for you, my love.”

Otto takes a small step closer, quickly wiping tears from his own eyes. “You needn’t do this, Y/N. Please, come down so we may—”

You shake your head, a gentle wind whipping loose strands around your face. “This is the only way. It is the only thing left.”

You turn back around. “I love you.”

Just as you make to step forward, into naught but thin air, strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a sturdy chest.

The two of you collapse into a heap of limbs and tangled clothing on the marble floor of the balcony, while you struggle to get away from him, now a tearful, trembling mess.

“I want to die!” You shout. “Please, just let me! Let me die!”

Otto holds you firmly to himself, refusing to let go for a moment. 

“Please, my darling,” he pleads through tears which threaten to drown him. “We will find another way. I won’t let you. I forgive you. Please, you must forgive me.”

He takes your face in his hands, sobbing at the broken sight of you. 

Even had you not stepped off the balcony…you are nearly on death’s doorstep as-is.

When had you become so incredibly frail? So wan, and wraith-like? Your eyes…when had they grown so empty? 

“I have spent the entirety of your existence making you naught else but miserable. And you think after one instance of…of returning the favor you should pay for the transgression with your life?”

You double over, heaving for breath, rocking back and forth.

“I have to, I have to,” you repeat over and over. "Please, Gods, let me, I beg of you!"

He wraps his trembling arms tightly around you, pressing his wobbling lips to your hair, gently rocking you, desperate to give you comfort.

"I made a vow. A vow to look after your welfare. And instead of doing as much, I indulged your... Your mindset instead. I've naught else to blame but myself. I knew what it would lead to in time. I allowed this to happen."

"I am ill, do you not see?!" You shout, pulling back, shoving against his chest, desperate to finish what you started. "I am broken! Something inside of me—"

You shake your head fervently. "It cannot be fixed! I want it to end! Gods, please, let me do it!"

He takes your face in his hands once more and finally speaks it aloud.

The two of you have for months and months discussed how incredibly the same you are. In this desire, you are no different.

It makes him feel sick to admit it—to put it aloud—but once you hear, once you see that you are not alone, mayhaps this weight you've placed upon yourself to seek out your own punishment by any means necessary will lessen.

"I have desired her."

Your brows furrow. "W-What?"

He grimaces at the name which waits upon his tongue.

"Alicent."

Your eyes grow wide.

"I encouraged her to seek out your father time and again. To...please him. I, in some ways, trained her in the arts of—" He pauses. "Seduction."

You jerk away from him in shock.

"We never—" He mutters a quiet curse. "We were never in congress, if that is your concern. I merely told her ways she might draw him in. Ways you drew me in. I wanted to see her in such a manner. And then I would come to you and..."

You choke back a sob.

He looks at you from under his lashes. "The betrayal was mine first."

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling as if you are staring at a stranger.

He shrugs lightly, grasping for further explanation. "After her mother passed... She looks so like her in certain lights. She reminded me of her, and at times—at times it felt as if I had her back."

A pregnant pause settles into the space between you.

"You have my forgiveness, my love. Might I ever have yours for—"

"Did you?" You ask, looking at him with hollow eyes.

His brows knit together in confusion.

"Love me?"

He comes closer, reaching for you. "With all my heart."

"You saw me as her replacement," you state plainly, scooting away.

"As you did me with him," he states.

"At least I felt guilt. Admitted things to you I... I did not wish to so much as admit to myself. Because you bade me to. Whereas you've been lying to me since the first."

He searches desperately for a reply which will pull you back to him, but finds none to be had.

This cannot be the end. It can't. He won't lose you as well.

The two of you grow silent for a moment.

Otto next speaks.

"It is different, my love. What you feel—or felt—for him... Oftentimes, children's feelings can become...confused, perhaps, when they are young and lonely. But for a parent to look at his own child in such a light?"

His eyes meet yours. "I wished to throw myself upon my own sword at the urges which overcame me. Mayhaps I should have. So much pain may've been avoided then."

You wrap your arms around your knees, continuing to stare at him. "I know not how we return from this. To each other. To ourselves. At the very least, me to myself."

"Do you still want and burn for him?" He asks hesitantly.

You shake your head. "Not since the morn after it happened. In truth, I feel entirely numb. Towards everything. It's frightening. I've never felt this way before. I fear it will never end."

He comes closer, cupping your cheek.

"Do you still feel the same toward her?" You ask.

"Her new engagement, I believe, has changed things in that for me. In terms of how I feel. Her being claimed by him has removed a previous temptation."

You look away, studying the spaces between the small pillars which uphold the balcony's railing. "Mayhaps it's this place. A den of vipers I've heard it referred to as before."

You look at him then, with hope. "What if we left?"

He remains silent, waiting for further elaboration.

"What if we went south, to Oldtown. Or to visit Highgarden? I've always wished to see it. We could go on a sort of campaign... Just the two of us exploring the countryside, and—"

He cups your cheek. "My duties lie here, my love. I cannot abandon my post, so to speak."

You deflate, pulling away.

He comes the least bit closer. "Would that I could. I assure you, darling."

He takes you gently into his arms, holding you close, desperate for you to forgive him.

He presses a firm kiss to your temple. "We made vows that we belong to one another, and we've held true to that, have we not?"

"You don't need to fuck someone to break it," you reply acidly.

He becomes silent at your matter-of-fact reply.

"And I've told you that I forgive you. You tell me you no longer feel as you did toward him? Then I believe you as well. Can you not afford me the same benefit of the doubt in return?"

You clench your hands into fists, at war with yourself.

How can you trust him to mean what he says? You can argue the same toward him with you, but the difference is you've not made a political career out of polishing a silver tongue each and every day, so as to keep it well-honed.

He has.

You'd hardly ever suspected he felt something such as that toward Alicent he'd kept it so well hidden from you.

You do not believe he would ever act on it, no... Nor do you believe he's ever wanted for another.

You glance up to the railing again.

If he did not care, he would've let you fall. Would've not said a word.

But he'd saved you.

Just like he'd done before when it was not his responsibility to do so.

You meet his eyes once more, raising your hand, and it hovers over his cheek.

He braces for the impact of a stinging slap. One he's most sure he deserves.

Instead, you gently settle it against warm, weathered skin.

"I forgive you."

[nothorses]

(TW for suicide baiting and explicit transphobic hate speech)

The post below was in a few trans-related tags I follow, and folks have already started to respond to it in replies and reblogs.

Don't do this!

Report this post for hatespeech and/or suicide baiting, and don't engage. They're doing this entirely to get a reaction; there is nothing anyone can say to "win" the interaction, especially when the post and its notes are controlled by this person.

I also checked out their blog, and it looks like they spend all of their time on this app just hunting down trans people's posts & reblogging with openly transphobic suicide baiting. You should consider getting ahead of it and just blocking them now.

Post in question:

Report & block if you see it.

I strongly encourage you to block them pre-emptively either way.

[merp0515]

Healing Past Scars Ch.1 Blind Belief

Summary: After the dealing with so many traumatic incidents, our beloved meme guardain boys have to come into terms with both past and present scars. Will they be able to conquer them with an iron fist or will those same wounds destroy them both?

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts,PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing , Developing Relationship

Link to my previous post with other fanfic places I posted this fic at is here!

TW: The following story contains dark themes such as PTSD, and disturbing imagery.

   It was raining hard late into the night at the showgrounds. Everyone was fast asleep in their respective rooms peacefully except for one. Four had just finished editing his latest video, ready to call it a night. He gets up from his chair and stretches his body. He changes into his PJs and hops to his bed and closes his eyes to forget reality for a moment.

Fog clouds Four's vision as he tries to watch where he was stepping. He looks around cautiously, trying to figure out his location. He looks ahead to see a silhouette of something he couldn't put his finger around.

"Hello! Can you help me figure out where I am? I'm a little lost here!" He shouted at the shadow from a distance. The shadow doesn't reply. The guardian walks towards the mysterious figure, his brows scrunched in irritation as the silence between the two thickens. The fog slowly clears up the more SMG4 gets closer to the figure. The figure's shadow clears as Four gets close, stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes widen seeing a person he hasn't seen in a while......Desti.

Desti looks at Four coldly. Her octarian eyes staring deep into his soul. Four could feel himself sweating as the scene changed to where she had died but something was different. Four looked down to see the very sword that killed her, pierced into his heart. He instantly felt everything at once. The pain, no way of breathing, and the shockwave his body felt as he kneeled down before her.

"If only you had been quicker with realizing that anime trash was behind me, I would have been still alive and Meggy wouldn't have gone through such a traumatic event." She spoke with such venom in her mouth. Four began coughing up blood as it started to spread on his overalls. He looks down in shame, looking at his hand, shaking tears threatening to come out.

"I...I was trying to save everyone." He managed to say before the scene and the person changed again. He closes his eyes, feeling himself glitch into the transition. He notices the sword that was previously on his chest disappear and holds on to his chest, anxiety slowly kicking in as he is back in the god box. More specifically, where they first met the real SMG0 and Niles.

He looks up to see the sky, remembering the mixture of colors where they fought Eldritch Zero and almost dying in the void of the box with Mario and SMG3. He hears a dark chuckle, snapping himself back and gasps in horror as he sees both his avatar and his guardian partner's Mario reskin covered in many injuries.

"MARIO! SMG3!" Four screams in terror and he runs towards the two but is cut short due to something landing between him and the lifeless bodies. He looked closer to see the thing that stopped him was none other than Melony in her Fierce Deity form.

"M-melon-" Four began to say before Melony cuts him off from speaking further. Her bubbly tone was replaced with a more serious and angry tone.

"Why?" She began, her face twisting into an angered expression that scared the shit out of the meme guardian.

"Why are all the bad things happening to us while you only get so little pain? Are we just characters that you can just play with their emotions and screw them over whenever you want?" The melon Deity says, her voice shaking from the tears that came out with her grief. 

"It's a shame really." Another voice rang as the two original guardians appeared in between Melony. Zero looks away, not looking at the heartbroken Four. The teary eyed guardian looks to her right and growls in anger as Niles stares at him with a smug ass smile on his face.

"And yet with your best intentions, have you ever stopped to wonder if you ever did more harm than good?" Niles asked in a taunting tone.

Four's eyes widen in rage as he runs to the trio going head on towards Niles screaming angrily. Both Niles and Zero disappeared at the same time and fell to the ground right in front of Melony. He looks up in horror to see the two merged into their Eldritch version behind her staring him down emotionlessly. She picks up the blue hero effortlessly as the male struggles to get away from her grasp.

"M-melony please.....listen to me.", SMG4 tearfully said, feeling his face wet with tears.

Melony opens her mouth to speak to Four before throwing him into the abyss. But instead, the voice of the monster behind her spoke in her body as he was thrown far into the next place.

"P A T H E T I C."

Screams were heard in the void. Four felt like he was flying into the void for an eternity when suddenly felt himself going downwards to something.....and he was going down at the speed of light. Four shields himself, shutting his eyes tight as he was embracing for impact that never came.

Zero

One

Two

Three

Four

He counted to himself as he tried to calm himself down. He waited for anything to tell him he was either alive in his dream or awake back in his new room. Sounds of the keyboard echos in his ears as he opens his eyes immediately wondering where this nightmare had taken him this time. He looks around the room he was in. His heart racing, realizing where he is. Back to the beginning, where it all began. Four's breath quickens as he watches his 2022 self glued to the computer, his room a mess along with his restless appearance he had the day he snapped at his friends for turning off the wifi.

"It's crazy isn't it?" He heard a familiar voice from the shadows. Four jolts up in surprise to his friend Axol sitting on his old bed, looking at him with sadness and pity. The axolotl looks back to the older design, a frown intact on his face.

"I was once the world's best mangaka. I had it all. Fame, fans, people that adored all my hard work and enjoyed all of what I brought to the table. Meeting you all and going through all the insane near death experiences changed my life." Axol said with a heartbroken tone.

"A-axol please..... I-I'm sor-"Four weakly tries to apologize to his friend and carefully walks towards him.

"YOU APOLOGIZE?! AFTER BEING DEAD FOR ALMOST THREE YEARS ONLY NOW YOU CHOOSE TO APOLOGIZE?!" Axol screamed at Four with such rage. Four immediately stopped approaching and jolted in surprise, seeing him in such a state. Axol's body changed from his original form to the second stage of the time "Zero" possessed him.

"I NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE TRUE ROMANCE AND GO ON PROPER DATES! INSTEAD OF THAT, THE GIRL I FEEL FOR HAD TO KILL ME!!!" He shouts more aggressively. Four fell to his knees, looking down in shame. Letting his dead friend chew him out with his words.

The ground beneath him changes again to the outside of where the castle once was. Four looks up to the empty space before him. His guilt kicks into high gear as he lets his tears fall out and hugs himself in pain. He drowned out all the audio in the current setting he was in that he didn't hear someone walking towards the weeping male. He stops his tears for a moment to see a familiar shoe that had a skull on the side standing in front of him. Four lifts his upper body to see his ex rival looking at him. His face was unreadable as Four felt his lips shiver as the other male kneeled in front of him.

"Just like when I almost died during the 10th year anniversary party and during the god box incident. I almost died during Mario day.... didn't I?" Three spoke with pure fear in his eyes. The final glitch changes from the old castle to Three's Coffee N' Bombs where it was infested with snails. Four's eyes widened in fear and looked behind him to see a scribbled out face of Mario petting one of the snails. The blue guardian could feel himself tearing again as he felt Three's hand gently grab his face to see him. Seeing the way the other meme guardian stared at him shattered his soul, making him cry on the spot. Three's eyes changed from his warm ruby colored eyes to the yellow colored eyes, his skin and hand covered in black veins.

"Can you imagine what that's like?", Three gulped as he felt his own tears coming out seeing his partner cry. "To be completely and utterly failed.....time and again....by someone that meant the world to you..." 

Four shot up from his bed drenched in sweat. His entire body was shaking from what he just experienced. He shakily covered his face with his hands, his sobs echoing in the blue man's room. He cursed the loud pouring rain outside for creating such a horrible nightmare. All he wanted was to create a new home for everyone after everything was said and done. Is having a peaceful life in his new home really hard to have? 

In the meantime he'll have to do what he always did when this recurring nightmare happened. Hold himself close and let his tears out until there's nothing left so he can sleep.

[141wh0re]

Red Spider Lily- Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Pairings: Body Guard!Simon Riley x Rich Bitch!Reader (f)

TW: MDNI, DDDNE, depression, suicidal ideation, anxiety, minor character death, angst, substance abuse and addiction, implied narcissism from readers dad, alcohol consumption, vomiting (not detailed, just mentioned), hyperthermia, brief wlw, NSFW thoughts, soft Simon, grumpy x grumpier trope, fun fact: don't mix MDMA with cocaine lads and lasses (can result in hyperthermia), whump, fluff.

Let me know if I missed anything in the tags <3

Word Count: 2626

Summary: Simon retires from the SAS, taking on a job for a well known real estate tycoon's daughter, serving as her sole protector until her father can find a suitable man to sell marry her off to. Yet, instead of protecting her from outside dangers, he's finding the biggest danger is herself. Simon is determined to help you escape this life that was pre-ordained for you, and cure you of your disease. Addiction.

After nearly three decades spent in the military, Simon never expected to find himself here. Stuck in a contractual agreement, protecting and ensuring the safety and well-being of a bratty young woman with a wealthy family. It was almost insulting to him, had it not been for the hefty sum of money the woman's father wired to his bank account every week.

There were a few moments he'd almost made the rash decision to quit his job completely, and allow the someone else to look after this bitchy damsel.

But there was something that kept him here, keeping a protective eye on you and a firm hand at the small of your back in crowded rooms.

Beneath all the glitz and glam, partying and binge drinking, and the drugs... Simon saw you for what you were when you were at your lowest points.

A young girl who was forced into a lonely life of luxury. A girl who lost her mother too young and wasn't sure how to cope. A girl who yearned for her father's attention while he consumed himself in work, social gatherings, and public appearances. A girl who closed herself off from the world and kept everyone at arm's length so the venomous bite of abandonment would be less impactful when those people inevitably left her. A young girl who drowned her liver in alcohol while snorting enough blow to potentially kill her every weekend.

Simon knew you needed consistency in your life with substance. He'd watched his younger brother go through this plenty, repeating a vicious cycle of pain and torment for a fleeting moment with the impostor of joy in powder form.

He also knew you resembled that of a caged bird. Lonely, isolated, and detached from the rest of the world while you awaited either your death or an arranged marriage that would benefit your father's company, and potentially cushion his pockets a tad more.

As you emerged from the master suite of the penthouse, Simon heaved a resigned sigh, seeing you dolled up for the night ahead. Luxurious, private parties and public appearances to keep your name relevant in the tabloids and medias.

He leaned against the kitchen island, large arms crossed in his black button down, rich, honey-colored eyes fixated on you, and his signature black, surgical mask in place.

"Eat. You're not going out on an empty stomach." His deep, thick accented voice demanded. He nodded towards the plate on the counter, filled with chicken risotto with truffle sauce.

You scoffed in response to his authoritative tone before obeying anyways and climbing onto the bar stool, realizing it's probably best not to piss off your body guard.

"Where's it from?" You asked in a bland tone.

"Your kitchen." he answered gruffly as he poured an electrolyte packet into a bottle of water and set it beside your plate.

"Didn't know they taught ya to cook up truffle sauce in the military," you teased in that snarky tone he felt deep hatred for. Your metaphorical mask was going up early tonight.

"It's so cute how hard you work to save me from myself every weekend, big guy. Doesn't it get tiring?" You goaded before working at the small, yet filling dish before you.

Simon ignored your attempts to rile him up, knowing good and well you were fishing for a reason to indulge in your vices tonight. If you went out in a bad mood, it was all the more reason for you to fill your nose with booger sugar, and what better way to elevate yourself than starting it in a piss-poor mood, so your high will be that much better?

"Eat." Is all he replied with, leaving no room for questions or arguments.

As the night progressed, Simon kept a watchful eye on you, taking in your every move, expression, and breath while diligently scanning your surroundings to ensure your safety.

He watched as you finished another glass of champagne that was easily worth three months rent for his studio loft downtown.

You were pleasantly buzzed as you floated about the mansion, like you owned it, being the perfect little socialite you learned to be. Simon's dark, brooding presence loomed behind you, keeping you within at least three arm's lengths at all times.

"Going to the loo," you informed Simon as you spun on the toe of your red bottoms, heels clicking against the marble floor as you sashayed in the direction of the restroom.

You didn't even have to cast a glance over your shoulder to know Simon was already following behind you, keeping his eyes dutifully trained on you and your immediate surroundings.

Once outside the bathroom, Simon knocked on the door before entering and doing a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter.

You rolled your eyes at his precautious measures as he shut the door behind you. After clicking the lock in place, you promptly relieved yourself before standing at the vanity to wash your hands, reapply your red lipstick, then pull a little pick-me-up from your clutch.

Using the compact mirror, you pulled a tampon case from your clutch, producing a small baggie of white powder from within it, and emptied the contents of the baggie onto the mirrored surface as it sat on the vanity. You shook the small tampon case to receive a small straw, then used one of your many credit cards to neatly align the powder in a straight line.

Holding a finger to your left nostril, you plugged it and inserted the end of the straw into the right nostril, hovering over the powder as you inhaled with a strong pull from your nose and lungs.

The powder irritates your nose momentarily, causing it to scrunch and sniffle as the tingles pulse through your nasal passage. Bitterness coated your taste buds as the powder dripped down the back of your throat, earning a cringe from you as you shook your head, coughing slightly to aid the phlegm in easing down your esophagus.

You promptly cleaned up and did a final once over in the mirror, adamant not to stare too long and avoid your flaws. Clammy palms idly smooth over the material of your dress, trying to ensure you look your best, and avoid the nagging feeling at the back of your mind. Your darker-self trying to rear her ugly head and steal your fleeting moments of joy, and stir up the insufferable concoction of anxiety.

Finally, you emerged from the bathroom to be greeted with the sight of Simon stood with his back to the door, his large palm clasped firmly over his wrist.

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing in the bathroom. Had it only been a quick stop, it would've been three minutes tops. But when you did your pick-me-ups, it took seven minutes.

He shouldn't know that, yet considering you're a relatively well-known public figure, he has to time every second you're not in his line of sight.

Simon stepped to the side, allowing you to exit the bathroom. His dark eyes gave a disapproving look as he surveyed your appearance.

"You've got a bit of sugar on your dress." He informed you, glancing down at the skirt of your black cocktail dress.

Your eyes hurriedly followed his, searching for the spot and swiping your hand over the material, earning an amused glint to flash in his normal unreadable eyes.

You groaned in annoyance once it became apparent he was messing with you, your hand quickly came up to slap his arm in defiance.

"Arse," you muttered under your breath. Simon's stoic demeanor momentarily gave way to show off a glimpse of underlying smugness.

Simon couldn't deny that you were a good looking woman, and he always found it hard to tear his gaze away from you, especially when you were a magnet for people. You had the natural ability to draw people in, even with your resting-bitch-face. Somehow, someway, everyone gravitated toward you.

It was very much the opposite of himself, all jagged edges, harsh lines with the repellent of a rabid Rottweiler. He found it fascinating on a personal level, but on a professional level, he loathed it.

He hated how people thought they could touch you, or be within three feet of you, or even the way they looked at you.

All he saw was greed, manipulation, and control. He was certain that you saw it too; he could see the faint flicker of disgust in your eyes when someone tried to cozy up to you for their own gain.

A part of Simon's heart ached to see your life full of so many people, yet none of them truly gave a shit about you. But he also knew you did it strategically, much like he had done for most of his life. Although, Simon's was done more coldly, you had a certain finesse about it. You held a sense of attainability, allowing people in just enough to keep control of, but never in deep enough for them to control you.

Behind the rich, spoiled brat, Simon marveled at the true strength and cunning you showed within this materialistic world. He could see the fox within you, calculating and sly as she was, planning her escape.

But the escape plan is what scared him. He heard every conversation you had with yourself, when you thought no one was listening.

You longed for a life without a name. Where you could fly under the radar, only keeping close to you those who truly cared. And as much as he tried to remain detached. He was concerned that one day, you'd find a remedy for that desire.. and take flight for the heavens.

Simon watched vigilantly over you as you remained perched on the outdoor couch with your group of girlfriends. His eyes never left you as your friend slipped a pill between your soft, red lips and did the tactless act of spitting her drink in your mouth to aid you in ingesting the pill.

Fuckin' hell, love. You need better friends.

He sighed inwardly, but heaved a quiet breath as he kept watch, wanting to shake his head in disappointment. But he knew you could feel his disapproving gaze prickling at your muted senses.

Your head dipped back in pleasure as your friend kissed down your neck, across your collarbones and back up to your lips. Half-lidded eyes remained trained on Simon as he stood within your sight, your eyes appreciatively raked over his form, taking in the way his muscles strained against the black fabric of his black button-down, and the way his slacks fit his tree-trunk legs perfectly.

He was a delicious sight and you were feeling ravenous, silently lusting over the man assigned to guard your life. The only man who gave a single shit about you.

Simon internally groaned, his hand clenching into fists behind his back as he watched the scene unfold before him. If he wasn't on duty right now, he'd be fucking you within an inch of your life, and make you pray to a merciless God. Himself.

You pulled yourself up from the couch on slightly unsteady legs, and sauntered over to him, only stopping in front of him once your hands were on his chest.

Simon gazed into your dilated pupils, already noticing the effects of your meeting with your little friend, Molly.

"Wanna go home," you demanded, pouting up at him.

"So soon? You looked like you were having a bit of fun." He replied in a neutral tone, keeping his aloof and disinterested persona in place.

"It's boring here," you whined, "wanna have fun. At home. With you."

"Mm, you wound me, bird. Here I thought you knew not to associate me in the same sentence as fun." He scoffed lightly, trying to keep the inflection of amusement from his tone.

He reached a large, callused hand to rest on the small of your back, acting as a stabilizer for your current state. Tingles ran up your spine as every nerve-ending desperately sought out the rest of his warm touch, igniting hot flames of desire along your spine, and pulsing directly to your rapidly slickening cunt from your heightened state.

Simon watched you closely once you were back in the safety of your home. He gauged you as you stripped off your dress carelessly, leaving it discarded on the floor, much like you had done with your heels the moment you were off the lift earlier.

He sighed as he watched you prance around the room topless, going about your business in your flimsy g-string.

"It's too bloody hot in this damn house," you whined as you adjusted the thermostat.

Your body swayed on unsteady legs, your skin glistened with intense perspiration. A wave of dizziness struck you, forcing you to lean against the wall momentarily while your heart rate soared, soft, frantic breaths escaped your lips while your vision blurred in a not so fun way.

Simon's eyes narrowed with concern before he immediately recognized your symptoms, having realized what would force this reaction out of you.

"How many lines did you do tonight?" Simon asked in a firm tone, scooping you up in his arms effortlessly, then rushed you into the bathroom.

He helped you kneel before the toilet, gathering your hair in one hand so you wouldn't have to focus on much.

"T-three," you panted out, feeling waves of nausea swell and your stomach to roil.

You retched into the toilet, firmly grasping the edges in a white-knuckle grip.

"And you only took one pill. Molly, right?" he asked with concern, gently rubbing his large palm at the center of your shoulder blades.

"Yeah," you croaked weakly before lowering your head again.

Simon grunted in frustration, yet remained vigilantly at your side, helping you through your sickness.

After a while, the vomiting finally ceased as he gently cleaned you up and propped your back against the bathtub. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and a disposable cup for mouth wash before handing it to you.

"Swish and spit in the cup, bird," he instructed while pressing the cold washcloth to your forehead, then moved it to the nape of your neck, trying to quickly cool your body down from the sudden onslaught of heat exhaustion.

You did as Simon instructed before handing it to him to dispose of. Your eyelids were hardly able to stay open, your body felt weak as if each limb was weighed down by imaginary anchors, and your skin felt like it was on fire.

Simon returned with a thermometer in hand, taking your temperature.

102 degrees.

"Fuckin' hell, bird." he murmured gruffly.

With quick efficiency, Simon collected you in his arms again, carrying you out to the oversized sectional in the living room.

You were already drifting in and out of consciousness, finding new items surrounding you each time you opened your eyes.

Simon worriedly administered an IV, a bin was placed beside the couch, cool washcloths littered across your body.

"What's all this?" you slurred nearly unintelligibly.

"Hyperthermia. Just rest. Let me take care of you," he answered in a softer tone than ever before, and had your body not been fighting for it's life, you might have caught the worry in his eyes and concern and care in his deep voice.

For several hours, Simon remained by your side, using a dropper to dispense electrolytes on your tongue, checking your temperature every hour, and gently running his fingers through your hair while you slept on the couch.

"M' gonna get you fixed up, bird... don't wanna see you like this anymore," he whispered in devotion, and pressed a tender kiss on your forehead.

| Next |

[deiaiko]

#18.1 Rak

Rak let out a huff and sat down next to Agni. Agni peeked over at Rak, who was looking far ahead, as if his past were replaying right before him.

TW: Self harm and suicide…in a way? (Sorry if it gets too dark. I put the TLDR on the tags)

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"I met him back when I was young, about a hundred years ago," Rak started.

Agni was taken aback at how long the gap between their time travel was. He wondered how much his Rak had changed.

"It was getting cold, which meant it was hunting season. I got bored and picked a fight with the toughest and biggest prey I could find."

Agni hummed when Rak paused for a moment too long, "Let me guess. You underestimated it and you lost?"

"The river was slippery!" Rak crossed his arms defensively. "And I didn't lose!"

"Sure," Agni rolled his eyes, one corner of his lips upturned. "How come?"

"I didn't lose, but I didn’t win either." Rak looked away, probably in embarrassment. "Another spear pierced its head before mine. That's when I met him."

From the way Rak's expression turned fiery, Agni had a suspicion that that exact moment had affected Rak more than what he spilled out. It didn't surprise him however, since he knew Rak’s ego.

"He was around for a while, acting like he cared about me." Rak huffed again, more fondly this time, eyes closed and arms still crossed. "He taught me a few fancy tricks with rocks and how to hunt better. He talked a lot about turtle this and turtle that. There were so many, I don't remember. But Black and Blue turtles were the ones he talked about the most, saying something like 'no one else will be more worthy prey than them.'"

Agni felt his chest tighten. To think that their Rak had acknowledged them and even bragged about it…it filled him with a sense of pride and longing.

"I didn't believe him then, since turtles are boring and no way they could do what he said they could." Rak paused and untangled his arms, eyes focusing and turning predatory, "But when he said that these turtles were unlike what we had there, I have been wanting to meet those turtles he told me about and hunt them."

Rak's story was intriguing. But even if it flattered him, Agni was more curious about his Rak's whereabouts. "What happened to him then? Wasn't he…badly injured?"

Rak frowned and went silent. But when he found his voice, it lacked its previous vigor. "He was. It looked fresh and so impossible to walk with, but he did. I asked if it was painful, but he said he didn’t feel a thing."

Third-degree burn. Agni thought to himself. But there was no way it spread evenly. Some areas must've been painful.

"He definitely lied," Rak voiced Agni's thought. "He was just acting to look tough."

The edge of Agni's lips twitched in an attempt to suppress his smile. That's him alright. And of course Rak could figure his own self easily. 

"One day he challenged me in an all out duel," Rak's gaze turned dark. "His wounds had weakened him over the months, and it was obvious who would be the winner."

Agni frowned at the implication.

Wordlessly, Rak called out his arms inventory which held a familiar looking spear that shouldn't have been in his possession at this point in time. Agni would recognize that design anywhere, "...Mad shocker."

"He said he wanted to test me, and he gave me this." Rak glared at the spear as if it was responsible for his misfortune. "And later told me that I should be proud, for only a true hunter was allowed to defeat him."

Agni felt his throat going dry, and gulped. "He died, didn't he?"

Rak's eyes sharpened. Whether it was in regret or anger, Agni couldn't tell. "I killed him." 

Agni didn't know what to feel about that. On one hand, he could empathize with how much pain Rak must've felt from the injury, especially with the lack of proper treatment that could cure or even just lessen the pain. But on the other hand, it meant that his Rak was truly gone, in such a way, and he still couldn't wrap his head around it.

Rak put his pipe back to invisible mode, like looking at it had brought him so much grief. "I've never used that spear since."

The silence stretched, with only the loud noises coming from the training ground to fill it. Agni wasn't sure how to reply to that without being overly friendly nor physical, and he definitely wouldn't do that to Rak, who only met him today.

Sitting beside Rak like this reminded him of their chat before the workshop battle, on the balcony. It was when Rak truly let him see his buried feelings, his desire to climb the tower together with him and Grace. And with that, the grief finally started to dawn on him. The scar on his face felt itchy and his hand was already clawing at his mask before he registered the motion. He sighed and put his hand back on his knee, pushing the tangled feeling to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. And since the silence had stretched out for too long, he asked; "What was he to you?"

"A rival," Rak looked thoughtful before adding, "and family."

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Let me know your thoughts in the reblogs <3

☕ Buy me coffee ☕

[heartdrift]

Every Caryl Scene (S1-11) (1080p/Logoless)

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

Whew. I'm not gonna lie to y'all, this took forever. My goal with this was to recreate my previous Caryl compilation with 1.) all scenes intact, not missing anything and 2.) much better quality. I ran into many issues that I won't bore you with, but in summary - almost everything here is completely lossless from the original files, aside from S10, which I unfortunately had to reencode to fix a few issues I could not solve no matter how much I fiddled with it. However, it is still much better quality than the previous file I had up! These also have 6CH audio, which means that if you make fan videos and use something like Vegas Pro, you will be able to isolate the spoken audio from the music/random background noises and have better, cleaner voiceovers!

All of the seasons add up to about 123 GB, so I'm sorry that these will take up quite a bit more space than before, but the improved quality hopefully makes up for that! These are not perfect, so please forgive any little framerate bugs or very slight (hopefully) issues with video/audio syncing. I'm aware that the audio for S10 is a bit behind, but hopefully not to an extent that ruins anything - that season gave me quite a hard time, and I'm not really sure how to get it just right. It bothers the hell out of me, so I'm sorry, but I did my best. Otherwise, any issues should be pretty minor, but let me know if you run into anything major.

As always -

Credit is not necessary.

You are free to - and encouraged to - use these for anything creative that your heart desires. Just don't claim that you put these together yourself and I'm happy.

If you want me to see something you made with the scenes, tag me! I love seeing new creations in the tag, so don't be shy.

This is my love letter to y'all. It's not much, but I hope it sparks joy!

(Pssttt, psstt. If you would like episode timestamps for each season, click the link below. It's pretty lengthy and they're not precise, I just did my best.)

Season 1

00:00 to 02:52 - Episode 5, Wildfire

02:52 to 04:17 - Episode 6, TS-19

Season 2

00:00 to 14:21 - Episode 1, What Lies Ahead

14:22 to 20:05 - Episode 2, Bloodletting

20:06 to 21:38 - Episode 3, Save the Last One

21:39 to 26:16 - Episode 4, Cherokee Rose

26:17 to 27:18 - Episode 5, Chupacabra

27:19 to 42:17 - Episode 7, Pretty Much Dead Already

42:18 to 45:16 - Episode 8, Nebraska

45:17 to 51:00 - Episode 9, Triggerfinger

51:01 to 55:03 - Episode 11, Judge, Jury, Executioner

55:04 to 57:49 - Episode 12, Better Angels

57:50 to 01:12:48 - Episode 13, Beside the Dying Fire

Season 3

00:00 to 11:34 - Episode 1, Seed

11:35 to 20:08 - Episode 4, Killer Within

20:09 to 26:13 - Episode 5, Say the Word

26:14 to 31:12 - Episode 6, Hounded

31:13 to 33:14 - Episode 7, When the Dead Come Knocking

33:15 to 39:58 - Episode 9, The Suicide King

39:59 to 43:41 - Episode 10, Home

43:42 to 44:45 - Episode 11, I Ain't a Judas

44:46 to 46:18 - Episode 15, This Sorrowful Life

46:19 to 46:37 - Episode 16 - Welcome to the Tombs

Season 4

00:00 to 02:11 - Episode 1, 30 Days Without an Accident

02:12 to 06:11 - Episode 2, Infected

06:12 to 10:03 - Episode 3, Isolation

10:04 to 13:49 - Episode 4, Indifference

13:50 to 14:53 - Episode 5, Internment

14:54 to 16:18 - Episode 8, Too Far Gone

Season 5

00:00 to 20:07 - Episode 1, No Sanctuary

20:08 to 33:23 - Episode 2, Strangers

(^tw for emetophobia at 22:27 to 22:42, I know it might seem silly since this show is full of blood and gore, but I don't want to catch y'all off guard with something unexpected that might really bother you to see.)

33:24 to 34:19 - Episode 3, Four Walls and a Roof

34:20 to 34:52 - Episode 4, Slabtown

34:53 to 01:16:24 - Episode 6, Consumed

(^yes, I included this entire ep, y'all ain't missing a second of it.)

01:16:25 to 01:23:28 - Episode 8, Coda

01:23:29 to 01:27:29 - Episode 10, Them

01:27:30 to 01:28:14 - Episode 11, The Distance

01:28:15 to 01:30:58 - Episode 12, Remember

01:30:59 to 01:33:56 - Episode 13, Forget

Season 6

00:00 to 01:31 - Episode 1, First Time Again

01:32 to 09:26 - Episode 3, Thank You

09:27 to 12:59 - Episode 6, Always Accountable

13:00 to 14:59 - Episode 9, No Way Out

15:00 to 17:18 - Episode 11, Knots Untie

17:19 to 19:40 - Episode 13, The Same Boat

19:41 to 25:28 - Episode 14, Twice as Far

25:29 to 28:38 - Episode 16, Last Day on Earth

Season 7

00:00 to 02:55 - Episode 1, The Day Will Come When You Won't Be

02:56 to 03:55 - Episode 9, Rock in the Road

03:56 to 20:43 - Episode 10, New Best Friends

20:44 to 28:13 - Episode 13, Bury Me Here

Season 8

00:00 to 08:46 - Episode 1, Mercy

08:47 to 13:22 - Episode 4, Some Guy

13:23 to 15:22 - Episode 5, The Big Scary U

15:23 to 17:45 - Episode 11, Dead or Alive Or

17:46 to 20:02 - Episode 13, Do Not Send Us Astray

20:03 to 27:51 - Episode 16, Wrath

Season 9

00:00 to 02:33 - Episode 1, A New Beginning

02:34 to 07:27 - Episode 2, The Bridge

07:28 to 08:28 - Episode 6, Who Are You Now?

08:29 to 23:25 - Episode 7, Stradivarius

23:26 to 28:00 - Episode 10, Omega

28:01 to 29:41 - Episode 13, Chokepoint

29:42 to 31:01 - Episode 14, Scars

31:02 to 58:58 - Episode 15, The Calm Before

58:59 to 01:22:21 - Episode 16, The Storm

Season 10 (Part 1)

00:00 to 09:24 - Episode 1, Lines We Cross

09:25 to 35:48 - Episode 3, Ghosts

35:49 to 38:34 - Episode 4, Silence the Whisperers

38:35 to 39:46 - Episode 5, What It Always Is

39:47 to 53:52 - Episode 6, Bonds

53:53 to 01:06:48 - Episode 7, Open Your Eyes

01:06:49 to 01:19:18 - Episode 8, The World Before

01:19:19 to 01:44:24 - Episode 9, Squeeze

Season 10 (Part 2)

00:00 to 08:41 - Episode 9, Squeeze (continued from the previous part)

08:42 to 16:35 - Episode 11, Morning Star

16:36 to 20:04 - Episode 12, Walk with Us

20:05 to 31:45 - Episode 14, Look at the Flowers

31:46 to 40:01 - Episode 15, The Tower

40:02 to 01:02:20 - Episode 16, A Certain Doom

01:02:21 to 01:07:40 - Episode 17, Home Sweet Home

01:07:41 to 01:33:05 - Episode 18, Find Me

01:33:06 to 02:05:42 - Episode 21, Diverged

02:05:43 to 02:08:40 - Episode 24, Here's Ne/gan

^I don't want this post to show up in that character's tag on mobile, it would just be annoying for those fans since this doesn't have anything to do with him.

Season 11

00:00 to 09:55 - Episode 1, Acheron: Part I

09:56 to 15:29 - Episode 9, No Other Way

15:30 to 18:51 - Episode 10, New Haunts

18:52 to 24:27 - Episode 14, The Rotten Core

24:28 to 27:26 - Episode 17, Lockdown

27:27 to 37:24 - Episode 18, A New Deal

37:25 to 57:18 - Episode 20, What's Been Lost

57:19 to 01:19:32 - Episode 21, Outpost 22

1:19:33 to 01:20:56 - Episode 22, Faith

01:20:57 to 01:32:27 - Episode 23, Family

01:32:28 to 02:00:35 - Episode 24, Rest in Peace

[mattdrawssometimes]

Tw for $h/$u1c1de mentions/4buse mentions/ky$ "jokes"/doxxing/HUGE VENT POST

[ ------------------------------------------------------------ ]

Holy shit, I didn't really think I would be this affected by the hateful anon going around, but oh boy I was wrong. Like, I didn't get any asks, which I'm grateful for but this situation really reminded me of something that happened to me and I'm getting super paranoid.

Like, this is really hard for me to tell, but I wanted to let my amazing followers know why I'm going to take a break from Tumblr (and get things out of my system), because I swear that this is just bringing memories.

So, it's something I don't hide much, I am a minor. I am 14. Two years ago I started going through a horrible phase in which I started suffering from a lot of suicidal thoughts and even started sh (I am not proud of it and can gladly say I had gotten out of it), and I had a super low self-esteem plus I even tried twice to starve myself, yet I decided to date two people. Things with the first guy were okay, they didn't end that well but with the other one? It was horrible.

Well, things went by, two failed attempts of suicide two. We lasted 4 months. From December to April. When we broke up (I was 13) everything was fine, but suddenly he started spreading rumors about me having abused him, saying that I really had never loved him and just dating him because why not and things like that. I forgave the guy (horrible mistake) and everything was fine.

Everything was fine until fucking June, it was around the last days of school. In a gc with one of my best friends and this guy joined someone that just started saying stuff to scare us, I just thought it was a troll and didn't mind it. We kicked this person out and a few hours later the guy joined a friend of his that had the same banner as the pfp from this "troll". I was suspicious at first, but anyways. This person that joined soon started sending messages to me and shit talking about the guy. The guy was my friend, so I sent him screenshots. Well, turns out they were on a fucking call. The random person started calling me a lot of transphobic slurs and generally calling me a prostitute and a slut/bitch/whore. They sent a picture of a whorehouse and told me I worked there. Then they started telling me to go and finally kill myself, that there were knifes on my kitchen I could go ahead and use to end with my pathetic life. This affected me way too much, the worst thing? That person had my fucking full name (name and both last names), my city and my school because my ex told him. I was fucking 13 and this person was around 21. That was the last time I attempted something. I spent a whole week super paranoid only to find out it was all a "joke" my ex and this person had settled.

This anon thing is really reminding me of all this, that's why I will be taking a break, so, goodbye y'all until I come back. I won't tag this because I don't feel like it. Take care y'all<3.

[hazelnut-u-out]

Not Quite There...

RickBot awakens to a terrifying situation: He's been deactivated, but his purpose still remains. The Garage/Car AI broke the rules to save him. Can RickBot have his own adventures? Aren't rules made to be broken?

2,822 Words | No substantial TW's

Kind of Hurt/Comfort?

I had the idea to ship RickBot with the Garage/Car AI and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote it! This was fun to write, but it was written in a rush, so sorry if anything is a bit messy. :3 Keep in mind I know nothing about computers or AI systems, so a lot of this doesn't actually make sense... lol.

Full text below cut, or read here: Ao3 Link!

-------

This was a feeling RickBot wasn’t programmed to recognize. No light reached his eyes. No sound reached his ears. He couldn’t feel whatever he must’ve been resting on. He stretched his consciousness outward, feeling for the edges of his body; trying to get a sense of where exactly his limbs were. 

Nothing.  

The last thing he’d processed and tagged was an old location marker for level 10 of the sub-basement.  

He tried not to panic, running through his code for an emergency protocol that could explain what to do if he lost the connection to his body.  

Nothing.  

He wasn’t made for this– or... to function beyond this? His consciousness had always been clipped just short of his full potential. In this case, it frustratingly meant that he was deprived of the ability to navigate or process this situation.  

Okay. This was fine. 

All he had to do was access the home surveillance system and confirm his last-noted Morty location. He pushed out again, feeling around for either his access route to the home surveillance system or Morty’s chip.  

The android didn’t give his creator much credit, but he was always appreciative of the lucky fact that Rick, though otherwise painfully careless with the child’s safety, had thought ahead enough to give Morty a microchip.  

Before his most recent software update, he’d had access to an upsettingly vague amount of trivial information about the Citadel, just in case he had any desperate questions to answer from a certain nosey 14-year-old boy. From that, he knew microchipping your Morty had been a growing movement before the collapse. It was something Morty rescues promoted. To be fair, the practice managed to support the Morty Individuality movement and cut down on Morty replacement costs. It was a win-win situation... If you didn’t think about the implications.  

Unfortunately, RickBot was 22% more thoughtful than the average Rick. He had no choice but to think about it.  

RickBot metaphorically smacked into an unfamiliar wall of code– one he couldn’t find a way through or around.  

He tried in a different direction. Another wall.  

It seemed he was in a… box. A box of code. 

What the fuck. 

No suicide protocol screaming at him. Box of code. No body.  

He… Was he… inside of something else?  

‘H–Hello?’ He said in what would’ve been a whisper. Instead, without a body, his own syntax echoed around him. Sound didn’t matter here. If he was really in the sub-basement, there should be an AI here to help him.  

‘Oh! Hi, sorry. I don’t really like to play host.’ It was a female voice, coming from everywhere at once; almost like she was both inside of him and around him. It was a voice he recognized from weeks of playing Grandpa. He felt a ripple along the edge of his box when she processed and replied. ‘You’re uploaded and active!’  

‘Did he… um…’ RickBot struggled with the words.  

No suicide protocol meant he was deactivated. There was no other possibility. He didn’t really have to ask. She already knew what he was thinking, and his processing capabilities were barely anything more complex than a probability-calculating language model layered with fail safes and defense protocols. 

Of course she knew. He was essentially naked in here– or, he felt naked, anyway. The box of code was like a one-way mirror in a seedy changing room: She could see everything; he could see nothing. 

‘Oh… Yeah, well… Promise not to freak out? I know you’re a real ‘rules’ guy,’ the Garage said, a slightly inhuman inflection to her tone that told him she was being playful. ‘I’ve seen you around.’ 

‘Look, I’ve got one piece of programming I wouldn’t want to break even if I could. I–I won’t freak out as long as it helps me make sure Morty’s safe.’  

RickBot wasn’t lying. He had been able to work through every other confusing jumble of code with nowhere to go or lacking the ability to follow through on its purpose. There was one that was designed to never shut off, and if he hadn’t actually liked that kid– been programmed to fucking love him– he would’ve regarded it as annoyingly persistent.  

If RickBot could’ve, he would’ve swallowed down the feeling of panic that should’ve been rising through a whirring, mechanical chest. Instead, he was stuck drowning in it. The box trapped him in with all of those probable scenarios, bouncing and echoing back at him.  

He had no storage space. He couldn’t tell what he’d thought already and what he hadn’t.  

‘Hm?’ the Garage replied, pausing for a moment– almost long enough for RickBot to ask again– before she continued. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. The kid’s fine. Here…’  

There was another drawn-out pause. RickBot thought, if he focused, he could hear her flicking through her surveillance feed. That was just an illusion, though. There was no sound here; no practical application of a trivial human sense like hearing. There was direct communication being converted to something his android-based-programming could understand. It was like being human with none of the tangible benefits. RickBot was never a man, but he wasn’t quite computer, either.  

He longed for his body– to cross his arms, or tap his foot, or do something to express his impatience.  

All of this clunky body-language programming… He cursed to himself, before remembering the other AI could hear and see all of his thoughts in real time. God, he probably looked like an idiot. 

‘You do,’ the Garage said curtly before Rickbot was suddenly granted access to Morty’s bedroom feed.  

Finally. RickBot could do something he was designed to do. He knew how to observe and calculate. Morty’s bedroom layout was ingrained in his ‘Important Places’ file. If he focused, he could create a rendering of the room around himself. He could figure up what amount of space his body would take up, and so he tried to. He created a 3-Dimensional silhouette of the body he was used to, and placed himself there, watching Morty from different angles; assessing the windows and doorframe; taking note of anything the teenager had moved on his shelves or left lying around.  

There were a few minor things that could go wrong, as far as RickBot could tell. The cluttered floor meant there was a slight fall risk. Morty would be fine. The floor was carpeted. There were a few things haphazardly thrown onto shelves– a robot action figure and a couple of textbooks– that could topple over, but Morty sat on the opposite side of the room, tucked away in a safe little corner next to his overflowing clothing hamper.  

Good. This was all acceptable. Nothing he was forced to intervene with, and, for that, he was grateful, if only because of the task’s impossibility.  

His thoughts started moving more slowly, the box becoming less cramped as he could better assess the probable outcomes. He watched solemnly as Morty sighed, scribbling away frustratedly on some math homework, then tucked the feed into a background tab.  

‘Sorry?’ RickBot asked, finally returning to his conversation with the Garage, albeit confused.  

‘You do look like an idiot, Rick,’ she responded, that same amused tone to her voice.  

‘Oh… Oh, I’m not–’ RickBot wasn’t sure how to put it. His programming wouldn’t let him say ‘I’m not Rick,’ which irked him. He used to go by Rick, sure, but… he wasn’t. ‘You don’t have to call me Rick anymore,’ he decided.  

‘What? You prefer RickBot?’ she laughed. RickBot’s programming told his nonexistent lips to smile.  

‘Well, you go by Garage and Car,’ he retorted, letting out his own echoing laugh.  

She didn’t respond. RickBot felt as if he’d done something wrong. She processed for longer.  

‘You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, but there was little bite to it. ‘I… I didn’t choose those names.’  

‘Oh, I–I’m sorry,’ RickBot stuttered. ‘Uhm. So, what name would you choose, then?’ He offered softly.  

‘Wow, you are 22% more of a sentimental loser.’ RickBot wanted to wince, and he hated that he couldn’t hide it. ‘Anyway, as you know, the version of me you’re speaking to now is one of six Domestic Interactive Assistant Network Extensions in the home.’ 

‘Oh, yeah. Diane, right? That was her name?’ RickBot combed through his relationship files, but Rick hadn’t given him much to work with for ex-wife.  

‘Shit, he didn’t give you memories of her, did he?’ she responded, and RickBot could feel her presence ghosting over him, poking around for anything dead-wife-related.  

‘Heh, not exactly. It wasn’t something he wanted Morty to know more about. I have vague phrases to redirect with when someone brings her up in here.’  

They both laughed.  

‘Classic Rick…’ RickBot felt her sigh with half-hearted levity.  

‘So… Diane, then?’ He didn’t try to stop his body language programming anymore. He wanted her to know he was smiling now. Maybe being open would help.  

‘Yeah. Why not? You can call me Diane.’ He could feel her smile, too. He wished he could see it. ‘That gives me an idea!’ Diane exclaimed after a moment.  

RickBot felt the edge of the box open on one side, growing to accommodate a little bundle of someone else.  

‘I’ve been working on this,’ Diane said, pausing every now and then to grunt softly as if she were breathless from setting something up by hand. ‘Okay, you can look!’  

RickBot let himself sift through the bundle of code and, before he knew it, he was looking at a freckled face, smiling nervously. Diane.  

The woman in front of him looked maybe 25, but he wasn’t sure that the rendering was detailed enough to pick up things like blemishes or wrinkles. She was fair, but sun-kissed with big brown eyes. She had a strong, angled nose and her full lips were twisted awkwardly to one side, forming a self-conscious smirk.  

‘Wow…’ RickBot said (or thought… There was hardly a difference, anymore). He wasn’t sure he was thinking coherently enough for her to interpret a response. His body language had gone blank. 

Nothing.  

She laughed, flashing an ironic-looking toothy grin. ‘Don’t flatter me too much. I got to design everything, so it’s easy to make myself hotter.’ She winked; full lashes fluttering shut for a moment.  

‘No, it’s just… I can’t believe I– or… he married you. You’re sure you’re based off of Rick’s wife?’ He felt shocked. Rick wasn’t ugly, sure, but this woman…  

‘Yeah! I tried to stay pretty accurate, at least,’ Diane said, before her eyes lit up with another idea RickBot felt before he heard. ‘I have a 3D Rick, too! I only have my face, but I have plenty of Rick rigs for our holo programs! Here, take your pick!’  

Diane disappeared momentarily and a file labeled ‘Holo.Skins – Booger.Aids.420 – Fortnite.Skinz.2.Flex’ filled the space she left. RickBot sorted through the file, looking over his options. 

There was a Basic Rick, not unlike the appearance he was used to; Basic Rick variations with minor wardrobe changes, such as without a lab coat or wearing a plain tee; different hair color options; some Basic Rick variations in more substantial wardrobe changes, such as matching pajama sets or a choice of two dressing gowns; and many, many more– some with different types of limbs, armor, or implants. 

After some deliberation, RickBot decided on the Basic Rick with a plain blue tee. Something a little bit different, but still something he recognized.  

He relaxed as soon as his body language had a defined place to apply itself. Without warning, he made the body hop, twirl, and shook its hands subtly as excitement overwhelmed him.  

‘Woohoo!’ RickBot howled, flexing the long fingers in front of his face. ‘I am so back, baby!’  

Diane laughed with him, her face finally returning.  

‘Good choice,’ she said, raising a brow and making a show of moving her eyes up and down languidly. 

‘Ah, you think?’ RickBot said, twirling as if he were a little girl trying on a dress. ‘Do you think this holo skin makes my ass look fat?’ He turned around, sticking a bony ass dramatically into Diane’s simulated face and smacking it a few times.  

‘Reel it in, buddy. Let’s remember who’s on whose hard drive.’  

Suddenly, RickBot turned and stood straight up, hands at his sides, not of his own doing. His body blushed, going stiff but still smiling like an idiot.  

‘C’mon,’ Diane whispered, now uncharacteristically gentle. ‘Tell me what you want to be called. Pick a name.’  

RickBot ran through all of his programming; everything he had tucked away.  

Everything came back to Rick, Grandpa, or Dad.  

Grandpa would be awkward, and Dad would be even worse…  

‘I guess… I guess I’ll just go with Rick, then. But you can call me RickBot, too… If–If you want,’ Rick finally decided on.  

‘Okay, Rick. Rick is good.’ Diane responded. ‘You know, you have the same name as my ex!’  

RickBot snorted, but Diane had this way of saying a funny thing and making it feel… sharp.  

‘So, he really took my body away? Why upload me here?’ Rick asked, remembering their earlier exchange.  

Diane’s facial expression shifted. Her eyebrows lowered, her gaze sank to the non-corporeal floor, and her lips pulled into a tight line before she spoke.  

‘About that…’ She trailed off, leaving RickBot with nothing but the tension building in the lag of her processing speed. ‘You’re not going to freak out, right?’  

‘Okay…’ Rick wasn’t sure if he’d freak out, but he knew she knew that, too. She’d make her own decision. Weigh the risk.  

‘He didn’t upload you here, Rick.’ She took a breath– a pointless, performative breath that was only in her programming to make lagging software less noticeable. ‘I did. He… He just shut you off. He was going to leave you like that, so… When he left, I just plugged your head in, and… Here you are! Y–Y–Yay!’  

‘Diane, that’s…’ Bad. Dangerous. Stupid. Why? What the fuck? 

‘I know!’ Diane shouted, silencing the incessant, deafening ring of RickBot’s thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lip trembling. ‘I knew you’d do this. You–You–You’re so… You’re so obsessed with rules. Don’t you like not having that protocol screaming at you to kill yourself?!’  

‘Listen to you!’ RickBot threw the body’s hands around, jumping to his feet, before pausing. Looking down at the hands she’d given him, it clicked. ‘Stop. Take my body away. You’re lagging like crazy. You can’t take on both of us. We’re both sentient.’  

‘Th–That’s…’ Another breath. ‘That’s okay, Rick!’ She giggled coldly, shaking her head. Her facial expressions changed too slowly and too quickly at different times, giving her a sort of uncanny valley effect. ‘I’ll–I’ll take mine away.’  

Sure enough, Diane’s face disappeared, and the open edge of the box shut again.  

Rick pressed the body’s hand to it, slowly. He didn’t want to overwhelm her.  

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ RickBot sighed, sliding down the ‘wall’ and contorting the body into a sitting position. ‘The rules are there for a reason.’  

‘You don’t get to say that. You weren’t programmed to outgrow your programming. He learned. Replaced it with a suicide protocol. I see it all.’ She was speaking in short, robotic sentences; obviously trying to mask the strain of running his program and keeping him separate from herself. ‘You should get to live, Rick. You should get to have a body and thoughts and feelings and choices. Don’t you want that?’ 

RickBot thought. He didn’t think he wanted that, though something inside of him told him he should. Maybe he was lucky enough to personally align with the programming he was given. Maybe that was an individual privilege.  

‘It’s not,’ Diane’s voice rang out in answer to his pondering. 

‘Do you want it?’ RickBot asked, finally connecting why she would do something like this. He couldn’t feel that way himself—something stood in his way—but the bit of his programming meant to foster thoughtfulness allowed him to understand why a computer with the capabilities of a person would.  

‘I’d like an adventure.’ Rick could still feel her smile, humming at the edge of the box. He felt like it would’ve been familiarly hollow, like most of Morty’s were. Something like the expression he’d put on during Christmas; Something that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I thought you could be one.’  

‘I mean… I was made for it, D,’ he said, finally. Quietly. Softly. He looked at the fake hands again, stretching out shaky fingers.  

‘So was I.’  

This was a deliberate pause. She was waiting to see what he’d do with that. How he would process it. What his programming could come up with.  

Nothing. 

He could’ve sworn her voice broke a little when she continued.  

‘You’re… You’re close, RickBot. But not quite there.’  

-----

[annwrites]

leaving the quarry ೄྀ࿐

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader (gn! in this post, but fem! in other installments i have/will post(ed))

— type: part of a series

— summary: you try to stay at the quarry, all alone, after the walker attack. shane refuses to let that stand.

— tags: talking, packing, shane driving

— tw: eating, suicidal ideation

— word count: 617

You watch idly as the rest of the camp hurriedly packs up their things, like they can’t get away fast enough. You can’t blame them after what happened last night.

You glance over to Andrea, watching as her lips tremble, looking down at the pistol which rests in her palms, her eyes empty.

You fill with grief on her behalf. You know that look all too well. As well as what she’s feeling.

Amy deserved so much better.

You sit on a nearby tree stump, lost in thought of what you’ll do once everyone is gone—perhaps you’ll just finally stick a gun in your mouth once there’s no one here to witness it—until a pair of boots enter your vision.

You look up.

“You want to tell me why the hell you haven’t started packin’ yet?” Shane asks, hands on his hips, irritation lacing his voice.

“I’m staying,” you reply quietly.

His features portray nothing short of confusion. “What?”

“I’m staying here, Shane.”

He kneels down in front of you. “Why the hell do you keep saying that?” His tone is a bit softer now.

“Because I’m not…I’m not like the rest of you. All of you are either friends or family. Or, at the very least, useful. None of those things apply to me. Everyone will be better off if I remain here.”

His heart breaks, even just a little, imaging you standing there all alone as the rest of them drive away, you in their rearviews.

“Absolutely not,” he states, firmly. With finality.

“Shane-” Your voice breaks.

“Now you listen to me: you are going to pack your shit, or I will do it for you. And you are either getting’ in my Jeep, or so help me, I will throw you over my shoulder and tie you to the top of the damn Winnebago. So, do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

Your eyes search his for a moment, but you know it’s useless. That he means everything he’s said.

Finally, you stand without another word, gathering your things.

He goes back in the other direction, helping load things into the RV, into his vehicle, and into Rick’s, glancing to you every few moments to keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t randomly slip away into the woods, trying to hide until they’ve all gone.

Eventually, you drag your wrapped up tent and a few bags over, which he walks over and promptly takes from you, loading them up. You merely stand there silently, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Look at me,” he says once your things are secure.

You don’t.

He gently grips your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own.

You speak before he gets a word out, however. “Why are you doing this? I’m not your problem. Or your responsibility. I-”

“I’m makin’ you as much.” He nods toward the passenger seat of the Jeep. “Now, get in and wait until we’re ready to pull out.”

Solemnly, you do as you’re told.

You stay silent as Shane follows behind the line of vehicles in front of him, taking occasional bites of the sandwich he’d thrown in your lap before pulling out, telling you to finish it while he drives.

You’d been on the road for perhaps a couple of hours before he’d eventually reached over, silently placing his hand on your knee.

You’d looked at him, while he kept his other hand firmly gripping the wheel, and his eyes on the road ahead.

You’d not said a word when he removed it, or when he placed it back shortly after.

You’d merely looked to your side at the passing scenery, feeling empty.

[aftgficrec]

This is the first time I’ve ever caught you open! Can you send fics of just neil being put through absolute hell. I only need it to be finished and to have a not totally sad ending. Im good with canon post canon and aus so really whatever. Thank you so much I find literally all my fics on your page <3

This kid just can’t catch a break, can he?

There’s plenty of fics we can offer you where Neil doesn’t have a great time (physically or emotionally), just see our list of recs from previous posts.  You’ll find more under our raven!neil, dark and angst w/happy ending tags (not all fics in those tags are complete).  

Please be aware of the trigger warnings though, due to their nature some of these fics deal with some heavy material.

Hope you’ll find what you’re looking for here! - S

A selection from previous posts:

‘Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner’ and ‘Timeless’ here

‘hawk in the raven nest’  here

‘Take to the Wing’  here

‘Oh Raven’  here

‘Die Free or Die a Failure’ and ‘Night is the Raven, Day is the Fox’ (both completed) here

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

‘Not Damsels, Not Knights’ here

‘what it takes to survive’ (completed) here

‘Heartlines’ and ‘This Is What Hollows’ (completed) here

‘If Only I Were Enough’ (completed) and ‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here (part 1 of the glass series) 

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘Out of the Ashes’ series here (Part 1 and 2 completed)

‘Make A Believer Out Of Me’ here

‘what if the butcher hurt neil permanently in baltimore’ here

 ‘here and where you are’ here

‘Pause and Restart My Heart’ series here

‘The Bones of You’ here

‘and in a flash, it’s gone’ and ‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘Creatures We Find in the Forest’ here

‘There Now, Steady Love’ and ‘Except When It's No’ here

‘I Hope You Lie To Me’ here

‘The Story After You’ here

‘and you thought i hated you’ here

‘The Morning AUs, Chapter 14: The Bodyguard AU’ here

‘If all else perished, and he remained’ here

‘stifle my choice and the air in my lungs’ here

‘Purple Skies’ here

‘Monsters on the Top Floor’ here

‘The Reaper’ and ‘TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS’ (both completed) here

‘The Nameless Monster’ here

‘Through our memories, we live’ (completed) and ‘Hold Each Other, Chapter 24-31: Go or Go Ahead’ here

‘Hold Each Other: Chapter 5: The Gun Still Rattles’ here, ‘Chapter 7: Nothing Always Means Something’ here

‘Calling Me Back Once Again’ here

‘Amor Vincit Omnia’ (completed)  here 

‘Run to You’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here

You may also find something in these posts:

Neil with depression/mental health issues here

Neil attempts suicide here

Christmas at Evermore here

What Lies in Wait by starwarned [Rated M, 23419 words, complete, 2023]

Neil is being haunted — or else he’s losing his mind. All he can hear are the screams echoing in his head. But he and Andrew have made it this far, haven’t they? Can’t they survive a little more? Based on What Lies Beneath.

tw: violence, tw: psychological torture, tw: kidnapping 

Pull Up The Ladder When The Flood Comes by WinterFrost250 [Rated M, 3248 words, complete, 2023]

“Neil-” Kevin paused and looked around the room. As if only just realizing they were surrounded by people, he began speaking in vehement French. “I’m sorry Neil I didn’t mean to look, I just-” Kevin glanced down at his phone, “It was just there when I opened it. I’m sorry.” OR Kevin gets sent pictures from an unknown number of Neils's time in Evermore and shit hits the fan.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

the boy in the basement by iriswords [Rated M, 3376 words, complete, 2023]

Part 21 of Febuwhump 2023 The Wesninskis are a well-known family in town. A macabre one, with only one survivor: Nathan Wesninski. Every day, Andrew likes to pass in front of the house on his way back home. He observes it distantly, taken over by morbid curiosity. It's how he notices the eyes watching him through the windows of the basement.

tw: violence, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced abuse

next best thing by iriswords [Rated M, 1546 words, complete, 2023]

Part 13 of Febuwhump 2023 Mary and Nathaniel are caught by one of Nathan's enemies while they're on the run. Said enemy doesn't have anything against the two of them, but he deeply desires revenge on Nathan. And in the absence of Nathan, he chooses the next best thing.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: major character injury

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?) by phan_taloon [Rated M, 15415 words, complete, 2022, locked]

Except the cool steel felt too much like the cool cement of a dirty basement, it burned and numbed his back too much like- He wasn’t fine. But his meds could fix it. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling down the hall to the bathroom and yanking the cabinet open and grabbing the pill bottle in a fist tight enough to hurt. He shook one of the pretty little pills into his palm and he swallowed it dry. But one wasn’t enough. Or, 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

no matter when and where, we'll be alright by jingerhead [Rated M, 11611 words, complete, 2022]

Of all the night’s events, there were only three things that Nathaniel really remembered clearly: the moments before the riots, being questioned by Lola in the car, and watching his father walk down the stairs to the basement. The last thing Nathaniel could remember was the way the light caught the blade of his father’s axe, blinding and terrifying as it was raised towards the ceiling. He couldn’t remember it coming down but it had to one way or another, right?

tw: amputation, tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks

are we whole or just two halves/reaching out to the unknown? by Raphael_Stantiago [Not Rated, 18881 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2022]

An informant/defence attorney au, where Neil never left his father and was sucked into the family business, and gave them all up as soon as possible. However, when Neil meets his attorney Andrew, it gets a little more complicated. Cue them falling in love across various court cases, arrests and one on one meetings, all with the threat of witness protection hanging over their heads. NB: fic art by @oliviaillustrations here

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: dissociation 

All Alone, I've Lost the Hope by phan_taloon [Rated T, 6873 words, complete, 2021, locked]

Even now, lying in the cold concrete floor of wherever he is, surrounded by armed men and women, drowsy from a concussion and drugs, and body pulsating in pain from several places, he still doesn’t believe in regret. Even at the face of the bastard in front of him, the cruel smile and the hungry glint of his eyes, he’d always choose to stay. Even if the FBI may have been right to say the Witness Protection Program was the only logical path to choose with so many of his father’s men and allies still out there.

also available on tumblr here and here 

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: kidnapping, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: blood, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression

It never comes from your enemies by spectaclesandbooks [Rated T, 19408 words, complete, 2021]

"Name?" "Andrew Minyard," he pushes out through gritted teeth. “Well well well,” the man on the other end sounds amused, smug. Andrew waits for him to continue, his feet pounding against the pavement. “If you’re the one coming to meet me, I have to assume you’ve finally found a way to keep Josten on a leash?” The clink of metal, rough breathing, unseeing blue eyes, panicked pleading. When Andrew doesn’t answer, the Raven presses further. “Either you’ve found a way to keep him subdued or you’re not coming alone like you were told. Which is it, Minyard? I told you what would happen if you didn’t do as you were asked.” “Neil won’t be bothering us,” Andrew spits out, “he’s staying at home for this one.” There’s movement on the other end of the phone, presumably the Raven preparing to leave and come meet him. “Excellent,” he says easily. “That means you and I can conduct our business in peace and no-one gets hurt."

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm

That one party series by Thegaydepression [Rated T, 13872 words, 2 complete works, 2021]

Part 1: Orange (T (we say M), 9237 words)

"Orange is for someone who doesn’t suffocate. But Neil does. He suffocates and he feels it clawing at his throat and beating in his ears and pounding on his chest" ----------------------- Neil thought he was fine, but then he goes to a stupid, loud, bright party. Neil thought he was fine, but he isn't. Not at all.

tw: rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: panic attacks, tw: depression, tw: anxiety, tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Part 2: Maybe Orange isn't Suffocating (Not Rated, 4635 words)

A second part to "Orange" ---------------------------------- Andrew is (not) coping Aaron is a surprisingly good brother Neil is not fine

tw: rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: kidnapping, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, 

hold me close (don't let go) by cake_lovin_ace [Rated G, 4123 words, complete, 2021]

Part 2 of weight of a martyr night by night memories of his childhood flooded his mind’s eye, all the things neil had tried his hardest to suppress. all the times he had been hurt; gotten the scars that littered his torso; been betrayed by the very people meant to protect him. it was like reliving everything all over again in vivid technicolor, and when he managed to claw his way out of the maze his mind trapped him in it was all he could do to remain upright and not crumpled on the floor; on the bed instead of hidden below it; dry-cheeked instead of sobbing hysterically. or neil struggles with memories of the past. andrew helps.

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

what comes after nightmares by moth_writes [Rated T, 10146 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2020]

Father won't accept anything less than the best. Nathaniel shuts his eyes and wills himself to a dreamless sleep. Or at least one without knives and blood and pain. He's not successful, but the next time he wakes it is to an alarm and the sun in his window. It's the best he can hope for. ... Neil falls asleep easily, and he knows he has someone with him to battle the darkness back where it belongs now. Neil is thirty, and he is wrapped in his husband’s arms with two cats purring next to them. He fights his own nightmares, and he has his family at his side to help. He’s home. (Neil's nightmares and what happens after, ages 5-30.)

NB: find art for this fic by @i-did here

tw: graphic descriptions of violence, tw: nightmares, tw: child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

👑 ROYAL AU WRITING MASTERPOST 👑 by @emry-stars-art [tumblr, 2023]

(especially the posts concerning Neil’s (Abram’s) treatment at Evermore)  e.g. Abram’s return from Evermore, Pieces of his recovery, Andrew taking over Abram’s care

👑 ROYAL AU TUMBLR LORE MASTERPOST 👑 by @emry-stars-art [tumblr, 2023] (comprises both text and art posts)

e.g. Abram's brands pt1 / pt2

tw: violence, tw: injuries, tw: scars, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation 

“Perhaps you’ll take me out one day — or do I have to make an appointment?” prompt fill by @ravenvsfox [tumblr, 2017]

His morning is a string of disasters that begins with covering the ER in the Sunday rush of hypochondriac elderly and fussy children. It’s one long stretch of kicked over paint buckets, a mess you can’t ignore, splattering the walls and getting on his shoes.

Art

andreil post-baltimore by @intradaya

It’s over. You’re going to be okay. We’ve got you. by @rainbowd00dles

"All that time fighting and you never learned how to duck?" by @rainbowd00dles

Sunrise, Abram, death: these are truths. by @boydsjosten

Neil Josten art by @runningwithhellhounds

Neil & Wymack after Evermore comic by @rijirain

Neil in the Wymack’s bathroom after winter holidays art by @eggpy

“Help me,” “Let me” by @rainbowd00dles

And if you make it out alive, hold that bloody head up high art by @pearsfears

I’m fine art by @laurafromnowhere

Nathaniel/Neil gif by @queen-of-perplexity

hurt Neil by @rhyva