#FUCK there’s even hayden and her sister too!

[toastybugguy]

This kinda confuses me— I can see your point because it is a trend in the show, but it’s little odd to seemingly equate “happy” families to “full” families as though you can’t be happy in anything other than a nuclear family? Because in the show they make it exceedingly clear that they very much still are happy families.

Scott’s parents are divorced, yes, but he and Melissa have one of the strongest, most unconditionally loving bonds between parent and child in the entire show, and they depend on each other deeply. Stiles’ mom passed away, but he and Noah are incredibly close and support and take care of each other to the point that it’s one of the through lines of the show. Allison and her family have some big conflicts, but over the course of the first few seasons, she and Chris come to know each other and communicate with each other openly, authentically, and lovingly. Lydia’s relationship with her mother is sometimes on the rocks, but at the end of the day, Natalie cares about doing what is best for her daughter, and they’re shown to have a close connection.

Not only that, but the parents frequently show up for the other kids too. There’s plenty of scenes of Melissa looking out for Stiles and Noah looking out for Scott, Chris putting his life on the line protecting the main kiddos, Noah being a shoulder to cry on for Allison. Even characters like Deaton or Derek (over time) or Braeden (also over time), who aren’t parents, but are shown to commit themselves time and time again to the well-being of the younger main cast, are there representing the value of people in the pack’s lives that aren’t family by definition, but are family because of their unwavering devotion to each other. If you think about it, it’s honestly a great example of the importance of chosen family, because that at it’s core is what the pack is.

The effort made to express that these families that American television might consider “unconventional” can and do function is a factor of the show that really makes it work— is it always perfect? No, of course not. But that’s how families are, and the existence of these bonds is one of the show’s grounding aspects— you know that the love is there, and that when all else fails, you can rely on these familial bonds to bring things back together.

Does Teen Wolf just not like full families?

I mean Stiles's mom is dead. Scott's parents are divorced. Victoria Argent died. Isaac's parents are dead. Ethan and Aiden don't seem to have parents. Derek's parents are dead. Lydia's parents are implied to be divorced or something as such. Eli doesn't have a mom. Chris has uh bad parents. Jackson's parents are dead. Maila's parents are... Like why can't we have happy families?

[satansapostle6]

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

“Losing My Religion”

Sara Walter ran down the stairs with a reluctant weight to her steps; she and Lauren Do had had a sleepover the Saturday night before that involved a bottle of wine, prescriptions that weren’t under either of their names, and Uptown Girls. How Sara wished she could’ve been a Brittany Murphy blonde instead of a Courtney Love blonde.

She all but rolled herself down the stairs and opened her front door, not at all expecting who she found.

“Hey, Sara.”

She was stunned. Flabbergasted. Even a little offended.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she murmured, actually taken aback.

“I decided to leave Boston,” Tyler Hayden announced.

“Yeah, I see that,” Sara said, not giving him the welcome with open arms he was hoping for.

“Sara, I hated it there,” he confessed to her.

“And why’s that?” she crossed her arms.

“I, it just… It was fine. Better than fine, actually,” her ex-boyfriend admitted. “But there was just something wrong with it,” he said, caring a little too much about his little speech.

“What was wrong with it?” Sara asked through gritted teeth.

“I—”

That was all Tyler could say before their conversation was interrupted.

“Oh my God! Is that Tyler?!”

Sara winced with discomfort as Tyler smiled and waved to her mother, enjoying the attention far too much.

“Hi, Destiny,” Tyler greeted her.

He was the only person Sara had ever known who was allowed to call her mother by her name.

“What are you doing back here, I thought you moved to Boston,” Sara’s mother remarked.

“Oh, I decided to come back home,” Tyler stated, glancing over at Sara with an uncomfortable longing, “I… missed it here.”

“Well, welcome back,” Sara’s mother beamed. “Hope I’ll be seeing more of you.”

There was a lot of subtext here. Sara rolled her eyes, knowing her mother never liked Rodrick even though she barely interacted with him.

“That’s the plan,” Tyler responded brightly, once again sounding far too hopeful.

“Well I certainly hope it works out.”

Destiny Sharpe smiled as she walked away up the stairs, and Sara shot him a look.

“What the fuck. I told you if you ever came back not to look for me,” she said with a deep severity.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Tyler apologized, “But I just had to see you… There’s so much I want to say to you…”

This hurt Sara the most because out of everyone she’d ever been with, excluding her ex-girlfriend Nadine, Tyler was the one whose apology would’ve meant the most to her. Had it not been for his own gain. Sara hated looking at Tyler in that moment, with his almost shaggy nineties ‘good boy’ hair, and his almost preppy oversized sweater.

Sara absolutely hated that he looked like Milo Thatch; it was what she couldn’t resist about him. He was the ‘good boy’, despite some of his behavior, and she was ‘bad girl’.

“Then say it,” Sara said painfully, before they were interrupted one more time.

“Hey, Sar, I think you’re out of…”

There was a deafening silence at the end of that sentence when Lauren stopped at the bottom of the stairs, realizing who was at the door.

“Oh, god, I can’t do this, I have too much hangxiety,” Lauren announced, before bolting past Tyler right out the door.

Sara just sighed, wishing she could do the same as Tyler just looked at her.

“Sara, I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he told her.

“Don’t…”

“I’m sorry. I regret how I left. I miss you, I wanna be with you,” he begged her desperately.

“You called me a drug addict!” Sara shouted.

“No, I didn’t,” he said sadly, “It was in the heat of the moment, and I called you Amy Winehouse—”

“That’s even worse, you know how much I love her!” she exclaimed.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “I never should’ve said those things.”

“Well, you did, and you can’t undo that damage,” Sara stated firmly, “Now, I have a boyfriend, still, I think, who I love very much, so you need to get out of here!”

“I’ll leave if you tell me you don’t love me,” Tyler said dramatically.

She just blinked her eyes in complete shock, unsure of how to even react.

“What?!” she yelled at him more loudly than she had yelled in a very long time.

“If you can look me in the eyes, and tell me I’m not the one for you, that you wanna marry, and have kids with, and whatever else, I’ll leave!” Tyler announced. “Because that’s what you are to me!”

“Okay, fine then,” Sara agreed emphatically, “I don’t love you anymore!”

Evidently, this was not the outcome Tyler was expecting, and he was thrown.

“What?” he questioned.

“I don’t love you!” Sara cried, still flabbergasted. “You’re months too late! This might’ve worked in August, but not anymore! Go away!”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked desperately. “I feel like there was still something between us when I left—”

“Yeah. There was,” she nodded. “And then you left. With no regard for me, or how I felt. I don’t hate you, Tyler, but I don’t even like you. Coming here was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe that,” he expressed.

“That’s what’s wrong with you; you see what you wanna see,” Sara said coolly. “Now, I have a boyfriend, and… I love him. So there’s nothing for us to talk about. I wish you the best. Goodbye. Forever.”

Sara waited patiently, as Tyler Hayden stood at her doorstep, slowly coming to terms with reality.

“I’m gonna miss you, Sara.”

“I spent months missing you, to no avail. Now it’s your turn,” she informed him, before slowly closing the front door on him.

Knowing on some level that Tyler was still standing on the other side of the door, processing at his own speed, Sara exhaled deeply, letting out a pathetic, shaky sigh as she sank to the ground. Unfortunately, this moment was less of a rom-com moment and more of a Girl, Interrupted moment.

Why everything had to be happening at once, she had no idea. She hadn’t expected Tyler Hayden, of all people, to randomly show up back in Plainview on her doorstep. And now that he did, all she knew for sure was that she wanted to be with Rodrick. No one else, ever again, just Rodrick.

Sara sat hopelessly on the ground, struggling to breathe as she was overwhelmed my a mixture of hangxiety and life. Despite what she had said to Tyler, she didn’t know if she still had a boyfriend in Rodrick. She didn’t know if he still wanted to date her, or if he’d forgive her after the way she’d ran out on him without a word this entire time.

She knew, on some level, that most of this was all in her head, and she just needed to go and talk to Rodrick, but at this point, she had no idea how. One little incident, and she’d run off never to be heard from again. This all was too much for her at the moment, but Sara knew that the one thing she could never expect from life was a break.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Sara?” her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Do what?” Sara said through gritted teeth, not at all in the mood for this.

“Why do you always make the worst possible choices?” Destiny Sharpe asked her.

“What are you talking about?” Sara stared.

“I’m talking about Tyler. The only boyfriend you’ve ever had who’s worth a damn,” Destiny reasoned. “He just told you he wanted to give things a shot again, and you turned him down?”

“I have a boyfriend, Mom,” Sara said in disbelief.

“A loser who plays in a shitty metal band who can’t even spell isn’t much of a boyfriend,” Destiny reminded her.

“Oh, so that’s what this is. You hate Rodrick so much you’d rather I get back with the guy who broke my heart,” she nodded, enraged.

“At least Tyler can make up for his faults,” she said softly.

“You know what, Mom, Rodrick has done more for me, and you, than you’ll ever understand,” Sara scoffed, standing up. “I’ve only had one boyfriend who’s both accepted me for who I am, and encouraged me to be better. I’ve only had one boyfriend who’s taken Connor to the movies with his friends, or gone so far as to yell at his mom in defense of me, and our family, and it wasn’t Tyler! You take Rodrick for granted! And frankly, so do I these days!” she spat angrily.

“Sara, you can do so much better,” her mother responded persistently.

“You, of all people, have no right to say that to me,” Sara assured her, storming off to her bedroom.

Sara had made up her mind. She’d taken a shower and cleaned herself up to drive herself over to Rodrick’s to apologize. It was all she could think about, consuming her every thought. She had to make things right; she was determined.

The moment she arrived at the Heffleys’, she ran out of the car to the door, sighing to herself and ensuring she was calm enough before she knocked. Unfortunately, she was not in luck when the door opened.

“Oh. Sara,” Susan Heffley breathed, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Hi, Mrs. Heffley,” Sara Walter greeted her awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“Come in,” the woman said automatically, unsure of what else to do.

“Thanks,” Sara said quietly, accepting the invitation.

She entered the house apprehensively as Susan shut the door behind her, looking around nervously.

“Rodrick’s upstairs,” Susan told her, “I can go and get him if you’d like.”

“Yes, please, thank you,” Sara said politely.

“But… before I do, sweetie, I, um…” the words were difficult for her to get out. “I’m really sorry, Sara. For the horrible things that I said that night, about you, and your family,” she apologized.

“It’s okay,” Sara said quickly, not really wanting to talk about it.

“No, it’s really not,” Susan admitted. “I said before I’d stop judging and respect you and your family. And I certainly didn’t keep that promise. I was rude, and cruel, and extremely superficial. I behaved like a monster, and I’m really ashamed of myself,” she offered genuinely.

“It’s okay… Some of the things you said weren’t that far off,” Sara murmured.

“Oh, that’s not true,” Susan seemed sad to hear her say so. “Listen, you and Rodrick… You do a lot of questionable things. And that stuff will be dealt with. But the way I talked to you… That was unforgivable. Especially considering how much you love Rodrick, and our family. I was unappreciative, and ungrateful, and judgmental. You’re one of us now. And I should have known better, as an adult. I’m sorry, Sara,” she tried to bridge the gap.

Sara nodded slowly, appreciating the genuine effort that she had never put in before.

“Thank you, Susan. That means a lot.”

“Of course,” she nodded, relieved that they agreed. “I’ll go tell Rodrick you’re here.”

Susan Heffley disappeared upstairs for a moment, leaving Sara alone in the foyer. Soon enough, because they were in the Heffley house, someone else came practically bolting down the stairs a moment later.

“Sara?!” Greg realized, eyes wide as he came down the stairs. “I knew I heard your voice!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Sara smiled softly, giving him a gentle hug.

“I missed you,” Greg sighed with relief.

Sara was one of the few people he actually hugged of his own accord.

“I missed you, too,” she mumbled, “More than you know.”

Greg went back upstairs after a minute, and eventually, Susan came back downstairs, just before Rodrick slowly appeared in the hall outside his bedroom door. He just stood there, in his old white T-shirt, beyond relieved to see Sara. It felt like it had been years. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and she was relieved that he wasn’t angry with her.

“Rodrick, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, the saddest look in her eyes.

His dark eyes just locked onto hers as he realized everything was going to be alright.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, coming downstairs immediately.

She didn’t have to say anything else. She sighed exhaustedly as he wrapped her in the most warm, loving hug he could, just like they used to do all the time. Both were just happy to feel whole again as they found their way back together. Sara couldn’t explain what happened in that moment.

It was just a shared moment of clarity; both of them knew then exactly what was important, and what didn’t matter.

-

[brainbuffering]

Review of "Tank Chair" by Manabu Yashiro

(T: Max Greenway, L: Evan Hayden, E: Maggie Le)

Power Fantasies come in lots of different forms. Sometimes they’re about becoming a world leader who can enact lasting change. Sometimes they’re being a big beefy hero with the ability to punch out hitler. Sometimes they’re attaching Boudica Spikes to your wheelchair and taking people out at the ankles for refusing to move out of the way. And when it comes to disabled-on-abled violence, Tank Chair provides one hell of a power fantasy! In a time where people are still claiming that wheelchairs don’t belong in fantasy, Tank Chair gives us a blood thirsty alternative where a wheelchair takes an already deadly assassin and gives them a high speed tank with extra knives. 

Written and drawn by Manabu Yashiro, the series follows two siblings– Nagi and Shizuka Taira – as they make their way through a post-apocalyptic Japan. Nagi is an assassin who, after taking a bullet to the head protecting Shizuka, became comatose and unable to move from the waist down. However, he has a unique ability where he will come back to consciousness anytime he senses a deep desire to kill him. And thus begins Shizuka’s mission to find someone with such an intense desire to murder her beloved older brother, that he comes back around permanently. 

As a mobility aid user, I was initially drawn to the series for rather obvious reasons. Cripple Punk has been around since 2014 but has rarely gotten any mainstream notice. Cripple Punk is the radical idea that disabled people are people, not just inspiration porn to get the ableds to go to the gym. No, “If Alice Tai can have her leg amputated and then win a gold medal 8 months later, what’s stopping you from doing it?” but rather “Holy FUCK how hard core is Alice Tai?! She got her leg removed and then swam 100m in 1 minute 13 seconds?!” Cripple Punk allows for disabled people to be loud, angry and visable. It allows us to misbehave and throw up the middle finger at those who try to fuck with our basic rights. It's been a long time coming that we’ve had a manga that helped embody this, and Tank Chair is off to a great start in reflecting this much needed aesthetic and attitude. 

I was a little anxious when starting the series that it would fall into dangerous “vegetable” stereotypes where Nagi’s lack of consciousness is only played as a joke about taking away his agency and personality. However I was delighted to find that Nagi is still shown to have agency and choice in his situation. He does have some issues with a few of his sister’s choices of mission, but doesn’t appear to be too bothered and it comes across more as sibling banter than anything else. In fact, one of the best parts of the series so far is the relationship between the two siblings! It’s a surprisingly realistic one, where you do feel the genuine love they have for each other – even with some of the more fucked up dynamics at play. For example, how Shizuka is able to awaken Nagi by charging at him with a dagger and genuine pure intent to stab him in the neck. But hey, it’s a nice take on the Cain Instinct by taking the term back to its abrahamic fratricidal origins, rather than the usual cop out of just having siblings thwack each other with wrapping paper tubes. 

Another concern I had was around the idea of them seeking a cure for Nagi. However the series makes it incredibly clear that the only thing the siblings are seeking is for Nagi to regain full consciousness, something definitely worth seeking! I was particularly happy to see Nagi explicitly say that he has found benefits in becoming a chair user! He sees it as a way of bettering his bond with those around him, and also who wouldn’t enjoy charging about in a personal murder tank? 

In terms of design, I’d rather the chair take more inspiration from active sport chairs. Whilst I love that his sister has designed him multiple ones for different tasks and missions, his regular chair feels a little too passive in design despite all the awesome spikes. I do give credit for Nagi’s chair resembling actual wheelchairs, but it's formed around a very basic budget model. The square design and leg clamps might give it that Diesel Punk vibe, but I think the series should continue to embrace the Cripple Punk aesthetic more. In this case therefore, I think it would have been better for it to draw inspiration from the most Cripple Punk Sport in the word: Murder Ball. Also known as Wheelchair Rugby. Chairs for Murder Ball are built more like race karts, with solid steel structures and bumpers. Wheelchair Rugby is probably the most Cripple Punk Sport out there, given that it actively challenges the weak and helpless disabled person stereotype, but is also one of the few full contact mixed gender sports! It also proves to anyone who might think that Nagi’s antics are unrealistic that no – wheelchair users are fully capable of incredible stunts and outrageous blood lust. 

I do have other concerns for the series. So far both disabled characters introduced – Nagi, and Touko Kurosaka – have been used as an instrument for murder. Even if they did choose to be Assasins, there’s still something inherently uncomfortable about how both characters are deliberately sent into action on their siblings orders. Touko in particular is a concern for me, given that she is way more presented as a tool of her brother’s than Nagi is. However, the bonus content at the end of volume one does give me a bit more hope that she will have her story expanded upon and given personality beyond “giant high school girl who can smash people with her fists”. I hope that the current toxic undertones of the Kurosakas’ relationship is just to emphasise the surprisingly loving and balanced relationship between the Taira Siblings.  

On a final note, I’d like to give a shout out to Evan Hayden’s lettering. In my opinion they did an excellent job of matching the style throughout, allowing for a proper 1:1 experience whilst still maintaining Kodansha’s style guide of subtitling rather than completely touching them up. I particularly liked how on page 59, the subtitle was drawn in a way that combined the existing smoke trail to become the “I” of “Kill”.

I’m not usually a fan of excessive violence in manga. I’m not opposed to it, it’s just not for me. I gave Chainsaw Man 3 Volumes and decided that I preferred Fujumoto’s more person-focussed manga like Look Back. Yet I think the personal wish fulfilment of Tank Chair makes it so appealing to me! Whilst I would absolutely recommend it to fans of Chainsaw Man and Dorohedoro, I believe that fans of Run On Your New Legs and Real will also enjoy this athletic narrative of platonic relationships and adapting disabled life. I very much look forward to seeing where this series goes in the future, and hope that we get more Action Packed Cripple Punk series in the future!

[colubrina]

I will die on the hill that if Bellatrix was around in Pygmalion, she would’ve despised Remus and made no secret of it. Regulus doesn’t seem at all fond of his brother-in-law, the kindest thing he says is to wonder how Remus tolerates Sirius’s passions which does carry the implication that Regulus thinks Remus has no passions, but he is at least willing to be civil to Remus, likely to avoid his brother feeling he has to choose between his Hayden and brother (and he’s already been willing to be disowned in order to go through with the marriage, even if he just went “yeah, fuck that” wrt following his disownment. Regulus is probably lowkey terrified his brother wouldn’t choose him, which is actually fascinating. The hatred of Remus being born of a fear of losing Sirius and anger that Sirius chose being disowned over breaking up, but Sirius didn’t really lose anything in this process and doesn’t know how to walk away from his family) since Regulus does not know if he’d come out the winner. Bellatrix would have none of this civility, that half breed piece of filth stole her baby cousin (and I also think all the cousins were raised together in Grimmauld, based on Kreacher being really fond of Narcissa and Bellatrix), and she spends most of the time stuck in Remus’s proximity plotting ways to murder Remus with no blowback on her or her family; she’s pretty close to a plan so she’s hopeful Remus’s days are numbered. She would be the main reason Remus never attends family events, because he can feel her murderous inclinations toward him but when he brought this up to Sirius, Sirius more or less went “yeah, that’s just Bella. Try to avoid her I guess” because Remus forgot the cardinal rule: the whole family has the most fucked up relationships with each other and Sirius can excuse a whole host of unhinged things with “that’s just How It Is” because he grew up with this behavior and doesn’t yet realize it’s deranged. Had Remus known he’d have to still be around his in-laws in spite of them disowning Sirius (and Remus has a theory Sirius has been reinstated by this point, why the hell else would Narcissa and Bellatrix be sending him handwritten invitations to their family dinner in 4 days with a line saying “we will see you there” that feels more like a threat than anything else (and Sirius says this is probably a war meeting, but this just proves his point about the reinstatement and also Remus has never heard of a war meeting with champagne and all sorts of fancy food), but he’s too afraid to get confirmation), he would’ve thought twice about marrying, maybe they could’ve just dated for the rest of their lives. Basically it all goes like this: Bella and Narcissa are planning homicide because Remus “stole” Sirius (except not really, Sirius is still theirs, bless their possessiveness) Remus worriedly tells Sirius “I think your cousins are trying to murder me,” and Sirius doesn’t even look up from the gift catalogues he’s scanning as he replies “I’m sure you’re fine, that’s just how they are. If it really bothers you, you don’t have to be near them” (it’s Narcissa’s birthday coming up and she made it clear she expects Sirius to get her a gift and attend the family dinner. The real losers in this situation are the in-laws, forced into proximity with people they thought were out of their lives, only to discover the Blacks have a very interesting interpretation of disowning people) (it is me and my ADHD and the parentheses against the world).

Lucius: so your sister and cousin are both disowned

Narcissa: yes

Lucius: then why are you wrapping Christmas presents for them?

Narcissa: it would be incredibly rude to not have a present for them at the Black Yule Party, Lucius, what is wrong with you?

Lucius: they're going to be at the party?

Naricssa: of course

Lucius: and they are disowned

Narcissa: I really don't understand why this is so hard for you

[harleywarley18]

Ethel Cain and God

I’ve recently gotten into Ethel Cain. I had listened to her before but wasn't my vibe at the time. Anyway, I really enjoy her music. It’s kind of elicited this resurgence of religiosity in me. It makes me think, you know. My relationship to religion and God is really complicated. For a long time, I worshipped God. Or, I pretended to. I was never to sure of His existence. I never saw any signs. I never felt Him. I prayed, late into the night, begging to be heard or acknowledged. After all my experiences with the Church and my own parents, I left that life behind. I was no longer Christian. I was no longer anything. But, I began to realize that I do, in fact, find comfort in worshipping something. I took to worshipping other gods such as Hades, Aphrodite, Apollo, and Artemis.

I appreciate the time I spent with them. They proved their existence to me more times than God ever did. I’ve heard them say my name. I’ve seen them in my dreams. I’ve seen them hiding behind corners, sneaking in and out of my peripheral vision. There are so many gods out there. It’s overwhelming. I hate having too many options. Proof that I’m autistic lol. But, it’s true. I hate the vastness of infinity. There are infinite gods to choose from, and even if I land on one, it doesn’t last for long.

Ethel Cain has brought God back into my life. The thought of Him, at least. I’m not sure what my relationship to Him is like. I always used to say that I was close to Him. I was lying, though. Lying to my mother and my father. To people at church. Maybe that’s my relationship to him: false and made up of lies. What was I to do? Everyone but me experienced Him in some form or another. Some saw Him, others felt Him. What was wrong with me? What I was doing different? The idea of worshipping God brings me back to my childhood. To that guilt I felt for being human, mundane, mortal. I don’t ever want to return to that.

It’s conflicting. I want to worship something. I hate feeling without a path. I value religion so much. I love it. I love the idea of it. I could never join a church, though. Whatever I do, whoever I worship, it will stay between them and myself. I don’t ever want to be associated with Christians. Or anything for that matter. I think the God I’d like to worship is much different than the one my parents worship. He’s not bound by scripture. He’s not mistranslated and abused by human immorality. I think my God is much darker. My God is terrifying. He’s just as traumatized as I am. He is just as angry. He is just as horny.

I really like these lyrics from Family Tree (Intro): Jesus can always reject his father/ But he cannot escape his mother’s blood/ He’ll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers/ But he’ll never escape what he’s made up of. The reason I love these lyrics so much is because Hayden forces/places/positions Jesus (who is simultaneously God and the Holy Spirit) into this much darker perspective. I don’t want to sound edgy or cool, but I genuinely like this idea of a Dark God. Of a God that is just as, if not more, fucked up as His children.

I’ve read the Bible twice. I read it as punishment. I was forced to memorize scripture and recite it on command, lest I wanted a beating. Devoted Christians have rarely ever read the Bible more times than just once. I think about reading the Bible, however this time reading it as the tragedy that it really is.

I love the God that Hayden paints in her music. It’s tragic and terrifying and dark and scary. I want to experience God, honestly. But not the God that the church ever tried to sell to me. And I don’t want to evangelize or proselytize. I hate that. I hate that so much. I hate that I was told that God was universal to us all. When He’s not. The God that I experience is much different than the one my father or my mother or my sister experience. He is a bringer of light but also a harbinger of chaos. He is good and just but evil and manipulative. He’s a perfect balance. He is God and He is Satan.

I see the appeal in Satan, honestly. The Witch Father, the Devil, Lucifer, whatever you want to call him. I love that He tells us to give in. When sinning, we experience true joy, true humanity. I love sinning. The Church made me feel as though that was a bad thing. To sin is to be happy. Everyday I sin. In the eyes of my parents I sin. They are not privy to my sins. They do not know that they have a daughter, not a son, and that that daughter is a terrible, lustful whore. They do not know that I walk around with marks of pure desire prettying my neck and shoulders. They do not know the heat that blooms in my crotch when these men grab me, grope me, fuck me. When they bite on my flesh, like hungry wolves clinging to the meat of a lamb. They do not know that I fantasize about sex and carnal pleasure. I am an animal. I am a sex object. I am a whore. And I love it. Satan tells me that He loves me for that. I love me for that. And when I say Satan I mean God, too.

I think I love God only when he is a direct reflection of who I am. I am my own God. I don’t want my God to be perfect. I don’t want my God to be good. I want him to be terrifying. I want him to lust and feel desire. I want him to be a cannibal. I want him to eat me whole. I want him to know the feeling of my tender flesh squelching in between his teeth. I want him to know the iron taste of my sinful blood as it runs down his throat and into his gluttonous stomach. I want God to cannibalize my soul and my mind and my body. It’s a terrifying thing to think about. And I never want to forever feel this way. It’s about balance. But, it’s still true that I think this way, that I feel this way. My sister would roll her eyes if she ever read this. Good thing she won’t.

[meant-to-be-a-hero]

Season Five, Episode Twenty: Apotheosis

More like Apo-Theo-sis, amirite?

Ah the pike is the cane, that's neat.

Time for Tracey to bite it too. But there's time for a kiss before dying.

That's some weird sex imagery going on there.

The Beast of Gevaudan, defeated by a car? I think not!

Try and help and you get your clinic trashed. Sorry Deaton, the Dread Doctors don't have professional courtesy apparently.

See, gay people can be idiots too. Some of them resurrect their dead unrequited crushes as homicidal werewolves.

Meanwhile we're wrecking Scott's house as well.

God damn it, stop hurting Lydia! She was doing so well after Eichen House as well.

The Desert Wolf confrontation is taking a looong time.

A for effort from Hayden. A shame, really.

"Someday, your willingness to stab anyone and everyone in the back may be your downfall, Theo." - Correct, as always, Deuc.

Whose voicemail inbox only allows for 16 second messages?

Oh this isn't fun for anyone involved. Also, there's no way that's the only thing Melissa's done that could get her fired lmao.

Goodness gracious, great Parrish on fire.

Nothing like a Stiles to break a stalemate and force a confrontation.

Theo, you entire bag of cocks.

There's so much going on in this episode, christ. What a finale.

Oh I remember how this Desert Wolf thing ends now - Stiles gives Malia Talia Hale's claws, which work for her because she's a Hale, and she takes all of the Desert Wolf's powers.

Didn't think this one through, did you, Theo? Ass kicking time!

Deuc reveal 2 of 2, and the better one of the two. Throwing Theo off Belasco's talons was a neat little trick.

Oh maybe it's Belasco's talons Stiles gives to Malia, not Talia's claws then.

Fucking Gerard! I know Deuc recovers but still.

Double crossing the double crosser. Perfect. Get fucked, Evil Grandpa.

Everyone's getting shot today.

What a satisfying end to the Desert Wolf story.

Nice timing from Kira as well.

That cane was wobbly as fuck for something made of metal.

Allison, saving Scott even from beyond the grave.

And Lydia, saving the day like the badass bitch she is. Perfection.

Oh, nice of Corey to show up at least.

Killing a ghost doesn't count as killing a person, so Scott's True Alpha purity remains intact.

Oh Theo.

"Your sister wants to see you." - Oh noes.

Bye Theo. See you next season.

The voice crack really sells it. More masterclass acting from Cody.

Shame Chris didn't shoot his dad in the face.

Scott bites Hayden and then she disappears between seasons too, lmao. No one has any luck with girlfriends on this show.

Bye for good this time Kira.

There's some bad matting on that Skinwalkers scene.

Oh noes, Douglas is out! Just in time to be a pain next season.

Yeah, 5's still my favourite. Great season, great villains, great through-line, great character stuff for everyone (but Kira). Just...great.

[etherealising]

💔older sister thingsss

nat was just like “hmm carmy is looking a little more sad kicked puppy than usual”

poor guys going THROUGH it

nothing a bit of concealer can’t fix!

this!! it kills me like bro really has this pendant and it’s like what keeps him going?? like i find it kinda cute tho (like give me a man who wears my initial 🙄😐🥲)

this was such a last minute add. but that pendant is def carmy’s security blanket! it’s utterly adorable, but also so sad because he could have the real deal if he just got his shit together 😭😭 (I can conquer though i too need a lover to wear my initial 🫣)

surpiseeeee shawtyyyyy

should’ve been in the script honestly lol

these children i swear

nat is just out here getting all the experience she needs for raising children

i can picture them already LMAO

Richie is eating every bit of this situation up!

😭

def one of my favorite lines i’ve ever given richie

richie #1 baby defender !!

he, pete, and nat are really laying the groundwork for these two losers.

AWWW PETEEEE

i just know he was so happy when nat gave him the news!!!

stop he loves her so muchhhh!!!

pete loves his wife and just wants it to be everyone’s business!

they’re sisters no matter what 🥹🤍 i’m really glad baby has someone like nat (and pete) but i also feel like sugar needed someone like baby since she grew up with just mikey and carmy + richie was probably one of those friends that was always at their house.

definitely I really love that I decided to take this relationship in that direction! but oh yeah baby was as much carmy’s best friend as she was nat’s (especially when puberty hit 🤣🤣)

he’s so needed in that family like he’s adds in a little fun and positivity

pete is the perfect balance for the berzattos they can all act like they tolerate him but I feel like deep down they have a soft spot for him because he’s so different from what they knew growing up!

🤭🤭

those two definitely gossiped about it over dinner

😂😭

this was so outta pocket for pete to say so happily, like sir do not allow this munchkin to diss you like this!

WELL SAID PETE 😭 WIFEY NEEDS A BREAK!!!!

• pete was like respectfully, figure your shit out lol

😭😭 he’s so real

cortez is carmy’s #1 hater! if carmy has one hater in the world it is cortez! if carmy has no haters in this world it is because cortez is dead!😭

i like this guy LMAO

i love cortez with my whole heart, he’s my favorite oc I’ve ever made (sowwy hayden 🤭)

omg

oh ‘em gee indeed!

each mention of the polaroids i die a little like.. 🥲

idk how polaroids and pictures in general even became a theme in this fic, like i was just supposed to be a one off but now it’s like their thing and i really love it 😭

i can’t wait for the baby shower !!! i’m hoping and praying it’s a sweet time (no drama pls) but whatever you have planned will be GOOD 😭😂

i am so excited to write the baby shower that chapter is gonna be so full of love, as of now i don’t think there will be drama, at least i didn’t plan for it lol but there will be a lot of feels : (

sighs

homeboys brain really short circuited

catch him replaying this voicemail every morning now after receiving it

baby boy is gonna listen to that thing like it’s a bedtime story

baby no.. that was actually well deserved for him

i can say that baby was indeed not sorry at all for that shot, her apology was out of forced maturity lol

it’s coming soon…. i cannot wait like even if it leaves me in tears

i hope when the time comes all the lovies in this community are so emotionally wrecked that they’re all like crying in a heap on the ground and i can just look down on all of you with a sense of pride in my chest (promise this is a joke)

i know he’s a chef but i love that he like immediately chooses that he needs to make dinner for her like i know for sure his love language is acts of service like bros here calculating time on how long it will take to get to her place then the grocery market like breatheeee dude

his math may’ve been fucked when it came to portioning out money for the restaurant, but i promise you baby could make an off handed comment about calculus or some shit and all of a sudden this kid is a mathematician and knows like the first 20 digits of pi off the top of his head. but also i feel like carmy only ever knows how to express himself through cooking and acts of service, that when these two finally get together he’s going to have to work so hard on accepting how loudly and openly baby loves him!

bro 😭😭

while baby was addicted to drugs, carmy was addicted to her 😍 (i need my internet privileges revoked for this one…)

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭🤍

they really don’t make ‘em like this in real life and it’s such a travesty 😐

chapter seven | they know i believed in us last week

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!pete x fem!reader | male!oc x fem!reader |

summary: carmy struggles to deal with your absence in his life, while you finally learn to live without him.

warning(s): talk about miscarriage (no explicit details) | word miscarriage used once | implied suicidal thoughts | substance abuse | NA | AA | Al-Anon | grief | mention of pregnancy |angst | drama | semi-fluff | language | sad boi carm | baby being mature | woe is me carmy | please let me know if i missed anything |

wc: 7.3k

song rec: i'll still have me - cyn, aquilo

semi-edited/proof-read

“Carm hey, are you listening?” Natalie’s eyes flitted across Carmy’s face, his blank eyes staring directly past her. She took this moment as a chance to take in her younger brother’s ragged appearance, at first glance he looked like he normally did; exhausted. But taking the time to really study him, she knew Carmy was doing worse than he’d ever admit.

His usual textured and fluffy hair was limp against his head, the greasy quality of it proving he needed a wash. The discoloration under his eyes was the worst Nat had seen it, the deep blue-purple bruising a sign that he was getting even less sleep than he usually did. The skin of his lips was dehydrated and bitten to pieces, a tick he had as a child that gradually calmed down as he grew older. And the visible stubble on his chin was enough to know that the absence of your presence in his life was hitting him harder than anyone expected.

Her eyes caught on the chain that was haphazardly peeking out of his shirt, squinting at the newly added pendant hanging from it. Natalie didn’t have to be a genius to know whose initial hung around Carmen’s neck, the chain which was usually safely tucked into his shirt was now blatantly on show for everyone to see. Natalie had noticed it more recently since your and Carmy’s argument, though this was her first time seeing it this close. She would find him just standing in the restaurant, sometimes eyes staring into nothing as he worried the pendant between his fingers, oftentimes raising it to his lips before letting it go completely and wandering to do whatever task needed to be done.

Natalie’s concern was palpable but the discomfort in her abdomen was worse. “Have you tried talking to her?” The shaky breath she let out filtered between the two of them.

Carmen’s eyes finally snapped to hers taking in the uncomfortable expression on her face, “Sug?” He waited for Nat to focus on him. “You good?” The question hung in the air as Natalie tried to even out her breathing.

Using his sister's obvious discomfort to deflect from the conversation she was insistent on having wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but he’d rather put his sister’s well-being before being forced to think about how long it had been since he last spoke to you; he last saw you.

Carmy watched as Sug raised a closed hand to her mouth suppressing the urge to gag. “Yeah good, I’m good.” The forced smile on her lips did nothing to fool Carmy, but he wouldn’t force the issue.

“Can you uh, explain to me again how we’re doing, I spaced.” His fingers raised to run through his hair a small grimace painting his face at the grime he could feel left behind on his fingertips.

“Seven weeks out, Carm, and still so much to be done,” An exhausted sigh breathed through Natalie’s lips. The stress opening this restaurant caused felt extremely unnecessary considering her current status.

“No yeah I heard that,” Carmy nodded his head rapidly, Sug’s words slowly coming back to him. He squinted his eyes, hand scratching the grown-out stubble on his chin.  “You uh said something about the DBA getting rejected?”

“About that.” Natalie’s voice trailed off one hand pressing into her abdomen to ease the ache, “The name’s taken.”

Nat watched as Carmy processed the words, her discomfort felt like it was increasing as the seconds passed by.

“Who the fuck could’ve taken the name?” The idea perplexed Carmy. There was no chance another business could have the same name, well there was, it was just slim as hell.

Nat shrugged just as confused as Carmy “It’s been trademarked for years, whoever filed has all legal rights to the name.”

“Fuck me!” The pitch of Carmy’s voice rose along with his irritation.

Natalie’s own mumbled expletive was drowned out by Carmy’s outburst, the nauseating morning sickness she was experiencing came in an extra hard bout today.

“Yo, Sug…Sug. You sure you’re okay?” Carmy’s concern now outweighed his confusion, Nat’s weird behavior this whole morning was beginning to worry him.

“I can do this Carmy right, tell me I can do this.” Natalie’s breathing began to increase as a slight panic flooded through her. Carmy watched her with wide eyes, no idea what she could even be talking about.

“Tell me I can do it, Carm!” The wave of nausea subsided with her yell, Carmy’s hands raised in the air to divert blame.

“Fuck okay! You can do it Sug.”

“I am…completely terrified. And I’m only telling you because..I don’t know. Just-just in case.” Natalie nodded to herself as a way to provide her nerves with courage.

Carmy just stared at Natalie still not following where she was leading this conversation to.

“I really want this to be loving and good and happy,” A smile rose to Nat’s face “I just..I don’t want anyone to know…well besides Baby and now you.”

Carmy’s eyes focused on Sug’s abdomen, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together in his head. The name she spoke felt like it was echoing through his ears.

“Sure” He wasn’t sure how to react to the news, he had always assumed Natalie would be the first of the siblings to start a family. And as the years passed by he knew it was a desire he himself had.

“I really don’t want Richie to know. Because somehow, it feels more in my control when and who knows…” The sound of the wall falling caused Nat to raise her voice as she finished her sentence. “That I’m pregnant.” Her final words were spoken just loud enough to alert the crew to her news.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” The sound of Richie’s shout grated on Nat’s nerves, but the quiet congratulations helped to ease her ire a bit.

Carmy was happy for Sugar, but it felt like it was setback after setback for the restaurant and all the personal issues he was dealing with weren't helping his stress. He felt his shoulders sag a bit mind racing as to how the name could already be trademarked, or who would’ve trademarked it.

His eyes found Richie’s as the man cajoled about how he knew Natalie was pregnant this whole time. Had Richie told someone the name and they took it for themselves? Did Mikey somehow trademark it while on a bender? The thought made Carmy’s head hurt what the fuck even was the point of opening this restaurant if they couldn’t use the name. The name was the epitome of the restaurant.

If you were here Carmy knew you would've given him an analogy for how he was feeling, you would’ve told him he was like Atlas holding up the sky or whatever he did. He shook his head trying to rid himself of thoughts of you, it wasn’t helping him in the least.

As much as he’d rather not converse with Richie, he needed to get to the bottom of this trademark business.

“Yo, Cousin!” The words felt wrong escaping Carmy’s lips the two men avoided each other in the same way you avoided Carmen.

The agitation on Richie’s face was instant, Carmy knew he fucked up with you, but the cold shoulder he was getting from Richie felt unnecessary.

Nat watched as the two men locked eyes, not too keen on playing referee for these two again. She looked in Carmy’s direction as Richie began making his way over, trying to gauge what was going through her little brother's mind.

“Carmen,” Richie nodded in acknowledgment to Carmy. Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t purposefully using Carmy’s government name to rile him up, he knew how much Carmy hated it when you did it, and since you weren’t here someone had to uphold the tradition.

Carmy felt his eye twitch Richie’s immaturity since the argument with you felt never-ending. “Did Mikey ever trademark the name?”

Richie frowned looking between him and Nat the assumption that he had any goddamn clue laughable “What the fuck did Mikey look like trademarking shit? Wasn’t I just slangin’ crack to keep the lights on?”

Carmy’s eyes shut as Nat let out a quiet gasp, watching as Richie raised his hands in defense. Maybe running a back alley drug ring wasn’t the best for business, but without it, they may not have been in this moment renovating the restaurant.

“Well someone fucking trademarked it, Richie.” The attitude Carmy was catching was wholly unwelcome.

“I don’t like your tone, Carmen,” Richie matched Carmy’s energy giving him what he was getting. “All I’m sayin’ is Mikey didn’t trademark it whoever did might…I dunno hypothetically deserve an apology in return for said documents.”

Carmy was at his wits end with the older man “Oh so you’re the fucking Riddler now.”

“Baby trademarked the name?” Nat’s voice traveled between the trio at the same time as Carmen’s snarky remark. Carmy’s head shot to her, confused as to how she concluded you had anything to do with the conversation at hand.

“Bingo!” Richie’s hands came together in a loud clap Sydney rolled her eyes at the obnoxious man before looking over the various work orders. “She did that shit years ago and gave it to Mikey as a present, he…left it for her when he passed.”

A quiet fell over their small group, each of them taking in the gesture. Richie had only become privy to the present when he went through the office to try and make sense of what the hell Mikey was doing to keep the business up and running. He had knocked a framed picture of your group off the desk cleaning up the mess only to find the folded trademark document in the back of the broken picture frame.

Your name was haphazardly scribbled into the back of it.

Carmen’s chest heaved as he let the news wash over him, it seemed since the two of you had your falling out the universe was continuously pushing him to interact with you. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing it up and down as he added another item to the long list of things going wrong with the restaurant.

In a way, learning that you were responsible for trademarking the name made Carmy’s chest feel warm. It felt like you wanted this for Mikey just as much as he did, the two of you both supporting Mikey in ways the other never knew. It also gave him an excuse to speak with you, not that he needed one. If he was a better man he would’ve already worked up the courage to reach out to you. He could feel a headache coming on the more he thought about trying to fix things with you.

Carmen was sure he’d figure things out soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could figure things out with you not by his side. Which he would admit was quite ironic considering all the times he had willingly pushed you away. But being pushed away by you had proven to him just how badly he was screwing things up with you, to hear you be so upset by his actions he basically forced you into confessing your love stung him to his core.

Carmy wasn’t exactly sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he was almost positive it wasn’t this. The ache in his chest from not being around you, looking for you in every crowd he was in. Soaking up any conversation your name was mentioned in. Maybe he did know what love was supposed to feel like, because for all the time he had been in love with you, he had never once felt so completely and utterly broken as he had been since not fighting for your love a year ago like he should have.

“That was Nat,” you looked up as Pete returned to the table, a smile growing on your face at how happy he looked to have been speaking with his wife. “Cat’s out of the bag! Our pregnancy is no longer top secret!”

Pete’s excitement was contagious, your smile growing wider at his pure joy. “Our pregnancy?” You chuckled never having heard anyone refer to it as if the pregnancy was shared.

You watched as Pete sipped the water in front of him, a signature goofy smile back on his face. “Of course! I mean yeah Nat is carrying the baby, but I’m just as pregnant as she is.” You gave Pete a confused look, a laugh bubbling out of you.

“You laugh now Baby, but I’m serious.” Pete paused as the waiter brought out the bread for your table, both of you quickly thanking them. “Nat’s my partner you know? And I’m so grateful for her providing me the opportunity to be a father. Allowing me to build with her, for us to come together and bring a child into this world, it’s a beautiful thing I love her ya know.”

The sheen in Pete’s eyes was enough to make you emotional you didn’t need to hear his explanation to know how much Pete loved Natalie, you could just see it in the way he looked at her, in the way his face would light up when anyone would mention her name or ask about her.

“I’m happy that Nat has someone like you to build a life with.” Both you and Pete shared misty-eyed smiles, chuckles leaving each of you at how emotional the small things made both of you.

“Looks like that dinner you were planning just turned into a full-blown baby shower!” The loud clap Pete’s hands made startled you. “Wow, it really will be a Baby shower!”

You watched as Pete laughed at his own pun, doing your best not to laugh along with him and encourage his bad jokes. The relationship you developed with Pete was a bit weird in the beginning, you weren’t the most open to the idea, and it’s not because you didn’t like Pete, it just felt like you were replacing Mikey.

It took a while before you could look at Pete and realize he wasn’t trying to replace Mikey’s role in your life, and that the drugs and paranoia had driven you to that conclusion. Pete was a great man, standing by Natalie’s side while she fought to keep you alive. Probably being more accepting than someone else may have been when he and Nat decided to help you. Pete and Natalie both put aside their own lives to help you get better, and get back on your feet, and while part of you wished Mikey was around to ground you as well, Pete’s love and kindness didn’t deserve to be taken for granted.

“That dinner was supposed to be a surprise for you too Peter,” you shot him a tiny glare before reaching for some bread. “I just wanted you both to have a nice night off together, no stress.” The reservation had already been made, but thinking about Pete’s words and the excitement when explaining most everyone knew about the pregnancy, maybe it would have been best for an intimate shower for the two soon-to-be parents.

Pete was definitely a family guy and Natalie came from a big family, maybe a shower would be for the best. Surround them with people who loved and supported them and just allow everyone to bask in the happiness the joyous news brought, you were sure everyone could use a break.

“Okay hypothetically say I put together a small shower for the two of you, is that even something Nat would want?” Sure you knew Nat but Pete was her husband and this was their moment, you didn’t want to ambush her with a party she never wanted.

You watched Pete bristle a little, a nervous smile raised to his lips, “I uh I’m not sure if Nat ever told you but she kinda had this…this whole dream about the two of you,” you frowned confused at what Pete was talking about.

“Well not like an unconscious sleeping dream, more like a-an idea?” Pete’s voice rose at the end of his sentence, not sure if the question in his tone was meant for you or him.

“Pete bud you lost me.” You gave him a small nod of encouragement awaiting his response.

“Um so…after your uh…loss,” a sad smile rose to Pete’s lips, you could see the apology in his eyes. “Nat she uh…she confided in me about how she always wanted to be the one to throw you a shower if you ever decided to have children. And if-when we had our own she’d want you to be in charge of hers…if you wanted to not like she would force you.” The nervous huff of laughter from Pete hung in the air for a minute.

The admission perplexed you, Nat had never brought this up to you directly and maybe it was because she felt like she couldn’t. You weren’t the most open when it came to the topic of your miscarriage always avoiding the conversation whenever Nat tried to breach it.

“Baby…you’re the closest thing Natalie has to a sister. I can promise she would be ecstatic no matter what decision you choose.”

You nodded, the motion happened unconsciously as you tried to take in everything Pete had laid on you. Of course, there were things Nat wouldn’t share with you, but while the two of you were like sisters you didn’t expect her to share every little detail with you. As you let Pete’s words digest you couldn’t help the warm feeling beginning to flood through your body, if you were being honest you weren’t sure if it was the best idea to be throwing anyone a baby shower, but you also knew Natalie deserved to be celebrated, not only for the life she and Pete were creating together, but also for all the work she was doing to ensure that The Bear had a fighting chance.

“Okay,” your head continued its up-and-down motion. “Yeah okay let’s do it but I’m going to need your help, Pete.” You watched the smile on his face increase tenfold, your own wide smile spreading your lips due to how contagious Pete’s joy was.

“Anything and I mean anything Baby, I am your guy.” Pete’s giddiness warmed you even more, you didn’t think you had ever been surrounded by anyone with such a positive attitude before. In the beginning, when Natalie and Pete first began dating, his electric personality was a bit much but you found yourself always trying to make Pete feel included, especially with how off-putting the rest of the Berzatto clan could be.

And when you were recovering it was almost like you had to re-acclimate yourself to Pete’s personality. Your recovery was hard, there were some days you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get better or if you wanted oxygen to continue filling your lungs. But Pete was so positive and always looking at life and your situation with a ‘glass half full’ mentality, that his constant belief in you helped to make the hard days easier.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you readied yourself for the question you were about to ask. “Pete, do you think you could give me Carmen’s number?” You tried not to roll your eyes as you saw Pete’s own light up, you were almost positive he would be telling Nat about this topic of conversation. “Before you get any ideas, I just need it to invite him to the shower.” You raised your hands in defense hoping Pete wouldn’t look into this any more than he already was.

“No can do B, the idea train has already left the station.” His fingers drummed on the table with excitement. “But I will do you one better,” you frowned as you watched Pete pick up his phone, fingers skating across the screen before he held it up to show you. A call to Carmen already going through as Pete sent you a thumbs-up.

You looked at the screen eyes wide, the shock temporarily paralyzed for a moment. The quiet sound of the ringing between the two of you brought you back. “Pete! Hang up the phone.” Your voice was terse as you spoke trying not to draw too much attention from other patrons.

Pete laughed, “He never answers my calls anyway.” Pete’s words irritated you, but you were glad to see the call go to voicemail before Pete pressed the end call button and set his phone down.

You let out a surprised laugh, Pete had definitely been too influenced by the Berzattos during his time with Natalie. The little stunt he just pulled was something you knew both Richie and Mikey would do if given the chance.

“Baby?” Your head raised eyes meeting Pete’s, “I know this may sound selfish, but I…I need you to figure out this thing between you and Carmen.” Your eyebrows furrowed the need to defend yourself hitting you full force, you opened your mouth to respond but stopped as Pete raised his hand, a signal to let him continue.

“I know Baby, I know. I’ll be honest with you, as much as I love Nat’s family I think you should’ve given up on Carmen a long time ago.” Your jaw fell slack, and Pete’s eyes widened a bit. “No, no just for your own wellbeing, your peace of mind.” You began nodding as Pete explained himself better. “I just, whatever is going on between you and Carmen, it’s affecting Nat. And she won’t tell you because you deserve to feel how you feel, but with the baby and the restaurant…she doesn’t need to play "Fix it Felix” with you and Carmen right now.”

You let out a small chuckle at Pete’s explanation, over the years he had begun expressing himself to you more. You being the only one on Natalie’s side who actually gave him the time of day and willfully listened to him, helped him to gain more confidence when around the rest of the Berzattos. You reached for your glass of water, taking a long sip before setting it down.

“Thank you, Pete, for being honest,” you sighed, finger playing with the condensation on your cup. “If I’m being honest, it's easy to forget that Nat’s in the middle of everything. She’s so good at pretending it doesn’t affect her.” A rueful smile rose to your lips, as great as a friend as Natalie had been to you through everything, you weren’t sure the same could be said for yourself. “You’re right, Carmen and I are adults, we should be able to figure this out ourselves. I’ll…I’ll call him, figure things out.” You sent Pete a small smile.

Recently it felt like Natalie and Pete nursed you back to health and then for some reason became your surrogate parents. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with leaning on them, the three of you did endure a traumatic experience together so it was understandable. But maybe you had become too comfortable and relied on them too much to ‘fix’ your life. You could understand where Pete was coming from and he had every right to put his wife’s well-being before the feelings of his friends.

You knew Natalie and Pete would be amazing parents and of course, Nat’s fears were valid. But you had seen firsthand just how loving, caring, and kind the couple was, and while that wasn’t all that went into raising a child it was like a part of you just knew that their child would be in great hands.

“Enough about my poor life choices Pete, have you guys thought of any names?” The timing of the question couldn’t have been more perfect, Pete perked up at the question, eyes glazing over with excitement. A waiter stopped by your table to deliver your entrees as Pete began animatedly explaining his and Nat’s process for picking names.

A part of you ached at how happy Pete was, if things were different, maybe in another life you would’ve been able to see that excitement on another man’s face. Maybe the two of you would’ve come up with your own system for picking out names.

You listened as lunch continued, no matter how many times the thought had crossed your mind, you would always be grateful that Natalie had found a partner to love her in the ways she deserved.

 It was silent between you and Cortez as you made your second lap around the block, the church in the distance behind you. Your hands were preoccupied with a warm disposable cup of hot cocoa as Cortez gingerly sipped his choice of tea. This had become the routine for your meetings with your sponsor, the two of you would meet at the bodega a little ways away from the church that housed both AA and NA meetings. Then continue your meeting with a few circles around the block before ending at the church stairs when all was said and done.

The air was tense between the two of you, Cortez hadn’t taken kindly to your decision to skip out on the few check-ins that you had asked for. In the beginning, you were in constant contact with Cortez, feeling the match between the two of you out. As you progressed through recovery and got back into the routine of daily life the daily talks between the two of you began to dwindle as you settled into life as a recovering addict.

But after that initial meeting at The Beef, being in Carmen’s presence again, surrounding yourself with Richie and the life you once knew, the meetings with Cortez picked back up in frequency. And you were doing fine for some time, the man meeting with you when you needed it, always willing to speak with you whenever you asked and it was helpful, god was it helpful. But then you made it to step nine, step eight in the recovery program was its own monster that Cortez helped you through especially when it came to who didn’t need to be on your list.

You made the decision to text Cortez after admitting your faults to Richie. As great as it felt to finally be open with Richie and let him into your life, it also brought with it the urge to use again. Richie had been kind enough to take the bottle of champagne off your hands that night, but the desire to call Fak and ask if Theo had anything he could spare almost won out. But as you scrolled through your contacts the red icon hovering over the voicemail tab brought you back to your senses.

“So your friend Richie knows?” Your eyes shot to Cortez taking in his side profile before focusing back on their attention focused on the steaming paper cup of coffee gripped in their hands.

“Yeah, his daughter kind of spilled the beans.” You nodded playing with the frayed edges of your jeans.

“That’s a bit fucked up don’t cha think?” Cortez’s brows furrowed. “I mean how does his little girl know but he don’t that’s gotta hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, “Aren’t you supposed to like not be judgmental?” Cortez’s laugh felt like it was grating on your ears, as good a sponsor as he was, he had the personality of an annoying older brother you were happy not to have.

“It ain’t even judgment though, it’s an observation.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to know that annoying smirk was on his lips as he shrugged his shoulders.

You stopped as Cortez dropped his now empty cup in a trash bin on the street, “Didn’t know you received your inspector gadget certification.”

“That smart ass mouth is bouta be the reason you out here looking for a new sponsor,” you let out a cackle before taking a much-needed sip of your hot cocoa. “Sound like my daughter with that dumb shit.” If you didn’t know the man who was walking by your side, you would’ve thought he was actually upset, but you could tell by the uptick of his lips he didn’t take anything to heart.

The two of you rounded the corner coming up on the church. You watched as Cortez plopped his long limbs down on one of the steps, opting to sit on the railing. Cortez took out his pack of cigarettes bringing the box to his mouth and removing one before offering the box in your direction. You slipped one out a small laugh escaped you at the irony of everything, how you had once been so against the cancer sticks that those around you would make sure not to smoke around you. And then instead of indulging in a nicotine addiction, you turned to alcohol and prescription pills, the fact that you would smoke a cigarette here and there to appease your urges now felt a bit comical.

You leaned forward allowing Cortez to light your cigarette, “Man ain’t nothin’ like smoking on Big G’s doorstep.” Cortez’s voice filled the silence that had settled over the two of you, you took a drag of the cigarette, a small chuckle escaping you with the smoke.

“I used to hate these fucking things.” The disgust on your face was obvious even as the stick hung from your mouth.

“Why you take one every time I offer 'em’ then?” Cortez switched positions leaning his elbows on the step behind him as he stretched his long limbs out in front of them, offering a wave to the few people entering the church for whatever meeting was scheduled to take place.

You shrugged eyes falling to Cortez’s beat-up boots as you sucked the nicotine deep into your lungs, “They’re the same brand Mikey smoked.”

“Damn ma, that shits kinda sad.” The two of you locked eyes before small laughs left the both of you. You had been around Cortez for so long that you’d picked up on his need to turn most anything into a joke. And while in the beginning, it pissed you off, you realized that’s just who he was and that sometimes being able to laugh in serious moments or at your trauma was helpful.

“Nah seriously though better smokin’ these than messin’ with that shit that hooked you in the first place. Know what I mean?” You nodded, finishing off the cigarette in your hand before taking the second cigarette Cortez offered. You knew how these things went and had spent so much time with the man that you learned to read him. Cortez only ever smoked two cigarettes and offered you two if the conversation was gonna be a rough one.

“Where you at with them apologies?” You sighed letting the man light your cigarette one more time, allowing the fumes to warm your lungs.

You dropped from your seat on the railing, your backside had gone numb. You settled yourself to lean against the railing “I mean I told Richie the truth and there were a lot of apologies in that conversation. But I feel like he deserves a better apology.” You shrugged, your attention dropping to Cortez as he listened.

“Ima be honest wit chu, this might be the hardest part of recovery. Shit I know it was f’me admittin’ to my little girl her father was a fuckin’ junkie. But at the end of the day, you gotta remember this recovery shit is for you. If homeboy loves you like a sister like you say he does, all that should matter to him is that yo annoyin’ ass still here. A’ight, ma?” You listened, nodding along to his words. “All you can do is apologize for the shit you did, you can’t control whether people forgive you or not, and remember ain’t nobody gotta fuck with your apology if they don’t want to.”

You let Cortez’s words settle into you, to anyone else his words may not have seemed genuine but this is just who Cortez was. And you knew no matter how nonchalant he sounded he was speaking every word from his heart.

“You still fuckin with that lil dumbass boy?” The question caused you to choke on the last bit of cocoa in your cup.

“We had a falling out, he’s one of the people I have to apologize to though.” The cigarette between your fingers continued to burn. “There’s a lot I still haven’t told him…the substance abuse, the reasons behind my overdose.” An exhausted sigh pushed its way through your lips. It was like one thing after another when it came to you and Carmy.

“Listen I know we ain’t sposed to have like personal relationships and shit, but lemme know what homeboy looks like I’ll get my goons on em’ for you.” Your head fell back in laughter as Cortez raised his fist to under both of his eyes.

“No goons Cortez, please. Wait, have you ever actually put a hit on somebody before?” You obviously didn’t know Cortez as well as you would have if the two of you were friends. But it wasn’t hard to tell that he would get down if need be.

“Why someone say somethin’?” The two of you shared a laugh, the now more frequent people entering the church signifying that your time together was coming to an end.

“Aight, I gotta head in, get shit set up in there. But ima send you the info for Nar-Anon you give that shit to people who still choose to put up with yo ass. You comin' in?”

You shook your head sending him a small smile, “I came to the morning meetings today.”

You nodded in thanks as Cortez stood up, pushing yourself off the railing. You placed the cigarette between your lips leaving your hands open to do the handshake Cortez insisted you did after each meeting. When he first introduced it you were still getting used to the idea of being a recovering addict and thought he was fucking crazy. But you realized he used it as a way to break the serious desolate feeling that some of these meetings ended on, to help bring some light to what was such a dark reality.

At least that’s how he explained it to you, but you were sure he just liked doing the handshake his daughter helped him come up with.

“Ima see you when I see you ma stay straight.” You chuckled before turning on your heel to head to your parked car. Putting the bud of the cigarette out against the trash bin you passed. It was still early, enough time for you to knock out some baby shower shopping before it got too late.

Carmen stopped in his tracks, eyes finding your figure across the street. You were in front of the church that held the Al-Anon meetings he told you about. Maybe you would be attending the one he was here for, his eyes traveled to the man sitting on the steps you were talking to eyebrows furrowing as he realized the vapors leaving your mouth weren’t from your warm temperature, but instead the stick you had raised to your mouth.

“Baby?” The question left his lips in a quiet whisper, he knew it was you standing across the street but it had been a few weeks since your last interaction he was sure he had imagined you. But he would know you anywhere, by scent alone. He couldn’t help the shock at watching you smoke, something you had been so opposed to since the two of you were children. Even going so far as telling Carmy you couldn’t be friends when he smoked his first cigarette at 15, the stalemate barely lasted a day after you realized how dumb the idea was.

Carmy watched as the two of you stood up, his hopes to see you inside dwindling as he watched the two of you begin to part ways, an intricate handshake taking place before you turned to leave. He watched as your figure disappeared around the corner, a quiet ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he darted across the street trying to catch you before you were gone for good.

“Baby! Hey!” His shouts were useless, you were too far gone to have even heard him. “Fuck!” One hand raised to sit on the bill of his cap, the universe seemed like it was doing everything in its power to keep the two of you apart. Or maybe it was just the way things were meant to be.

Carmy turned to see the man you were with still standing in the same spot you left him, eyes narrowed as he took in Carmy’s figure. The man eyed Carmy for a moment longer, sending a head nod his way before turning and entering the church. Carmy was tempted to follow the man and ask about you, but whatever your relationship with the unknown man was, it was none of Carmy’s business.

He sighed eyes shooting up to the sky before taking a deep breath and making his way inside, not wanting to be late and disturb the Al-Anon meeting before it began. Carmy made his way to the room where the meeting usually took place, eyes landing on the same man from outside once more as he greeted members, the sign near the door he stood by signifying it was an NA meeting. Carmy stopped for a moment, eyes darting between the man and the sign he’d just read.

“You lost kid?” Carmy looked at the man brown furrowed as he shook his head, he sent a tight smile the man's way before walking two doors down for his own meeting. Carmen’s brain felt like it was racing a mile a minute. If you weren’t coming to the Al-Anon meeting, why were you here? And why were you talking with someone who appeared to be leading NA meetings?

The vibrating of his phone caught his attention, the device easily slipped out of his pocket. He felt the air leave his lungs as your name flashed across his screen, he realized just how indecent setting that Polaroid picture of you with his chain on might have been now that he was in public, but it’s not like he ever thought you’d call him.

How’d you even get his number?

“Carmen, hey, we’re about to start your coming?” His head shot up to one of the usual who attended these meetings and would talk to him on occasion.

“Yeah uh, just give me a minute.” Carmy gave a tight smile, eyes flashing back to his phone finger moving to swipe across the screen, the call abruptly ending before he even got the chance to hear your voice. Carmen was sure he had the worst luck in the world, a defeated sigh leaving him, he was almost positive there was no chance you were calling him back.

Quickly putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and in the safety of his jacket pocket, he entered the meeting, as much as he wanted to drop everything and fix things with you. He wasn’t even sure what you had called him for. Carmen also knew it was for the best to attend the meeting,

Carmen was sitting in his car allowing it to warm up as he waited. The skyline began to reflect the sunset, the time on the dashboard letting him know it was around dinner time. He fished his phone out of his pocket mindlessly checking the notifications he’d gotten while in the meeting.

Carmy’s brows furrowed at the flurry of messages he received from a group chat he wasn’t aware he was a part of. He frowned as he opened it, your contact is one of the many in the text chain. The only contact with a photo was yours, making you easily distinguishable, he realized the rest of the people in the chat were the restaurant crew. He scrolled through the messages eyes reading over your message with details about a baby shower, your address included.

Carmy exited out of his messages, unsure of how things were between the two of you. It had been three weeks since the argument and neither of you had tried contacting the other. But here he was with a message from you, and a missed call and he wasn’t sure how to take any of it.

He decided it was a good idea to call you back, and try and feel out the atmosphere between the two of you. His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest as his finger hovered over his screen; you left him a voicemail. He needed to know what the message said, but a part of him was also worried he might not like what he heard, he had hurt you too many times to count, and if whatever you had to say to him broke him down more than he already was, well then he was sure he deserved it.

Carmen took one last deep breath before clicking on the voicemail and raising the phone to his ear, heart pounding in his chest as he heard the sweet whisper of your voice.

‘Hey Carmen, uh it’s me…Baby. Not sure why I introduced myself. I'm sure you know it’s me.” Carmy let out a watery chuckle at the sound of your voice, even if he hadn't saved your number the delicate timber of your voice would’ve been enough for him.

“Listen uh, I got your number for Pete. I hope you don’t mind, I know you have issues with girls actually having your number…Sorry, that was actually kind of rude. Anyway, I uh…Pete helped put things in perspective for me and I, I think we need to talk Carmen. I’m not sure when or if you even want that, but I think we both deserve a chance to explain our side of things. I um…I also have some things I think you should know. Just, if this is something you’re interested in, you have my number.” Carmen felt his heart rate slow down your words, nothing more than a piece offering.

“I just want to be clear though, um..if I don’t hear back from you, I’m going to take that as a sign. So yeah, call me back or something I guess.” The line finally went silent, your voice no longer caressing Carmy’s ears.

It felt like he was having heart palpitations but he knew it was just his nerves getting the best of him. He pulled the phone away from his ear, the time on his phone reading 5:30 p.m. Carmy quickly opened the group chat scrolling through to find your address and open it up in maps. You lived about 30 minutes from where he was, he was confident he could get there in 20 and spare the 10 minutes at a store near you.

Carmen made his decision as he set his phone down in the cup holder before beginning his journey. The ball was in his court, you had given him an olive branch and it was up to him whether he accepted it or not. He was nervous, maybe showing up at your house to cook you dinner wasn’t his most thought-out plan but he needed you desperately, needed to see you, be in your presence, and know that there was still a chance of something more between the two of you.

The hope Carmy felt when he saw you calling him earlier was now back tenfold: the pendant delicately resting against his chest felt warm. Carmen was adamant that he would admit his love for you tonight, unsure if he could go another day living with the fact that you were in love with him, but you still didn’t know just how much he had always loved you. You were so blissfully unaware that since he could remember, you had been the one and only option in his mind.

a/n: wowza, long time no see. i apologize that this is a bit of a filler chapter but it felt kinda necessary idk. anway please let me know if there are any problems with this chapter it's barely edited. enjoy : )

also also: both richard cabral as coco in mayans and manny montana as rio in good girls inspired cortez the sponsor, but head canon him as whoever you want…okay bye now 🤍

[sofhtie]

i really need to add more songs to the maeve playlist bc rn it’s just children’s work, i will, and a burning hill and that’s. Not Good,

[georgiapeach30513]

Keys in Your Ignition, Part 8

Summary:  Curtis now knows where Steve ran off to

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Tulip!Reader

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  language, mentions of miscarriage, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  900

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Chris edit by Nix Akimbo

A/N:  Seeing how someone guessed Curtis’ brother’s identity, I decided to properly introduce him.  And take a look into Steve and Tulip’s life.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks, finishing up with his shower, he walks in with nothing but gray sweat pants, that sit ridiculously low on his. His tattoos shining with the bit of water left over. “You’re drooling, Tulip,” he says giving you a quick peck, and walking to the front door.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. No one knew where he was, and he liked it that way. Had to change his number, but he kept his old one, just in case of an emergency. It was always the same thing. Always demanding more of him, while all he wanted was to be left alone. He said his piece. He was out. Stripped his cut. He wasn’t even nomad. He just likes an occasional ride with you.

He couldn’t believe that your grandmother had an apartment in this nice of an area that she was willing to sublet to the two of you, and it was definitely in a place that no one would ever look for him.

Opening the door a bit, he stares at the young man, looking like he was raised in money. His Harvard shirt obnoxious to Steve, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Steve Rogers?”

“Who wants to know? You selling something?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m Curtis’ brother.”

“Have a nice day,” he says flatly trying to close the door.

“Wait!” the younger man places a foot in the doorway, and Steve glares at him. “She needs you.”

“Who?”

“Steve, what’s going on?” you ask walking to him. “Who are you?”

“Hayden, I’m Curtis’ little brother.”

“Who needs me?”

“Look, I didn’t ask to get involved. Just to get a message to you. Your sister needs you,” Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head, attempting to close the door, but you give him a hard stare.

“Is Doll okay?”

“No. She’s drowning in a world that she doesn’t fit in, and that will never accept her.”

“She’s an old lady to the Bastard’s President. I think she’s doing just fine for herself.”

“Steve,” you tut at him. “Hayden, come in. We were about to eat supper.”

“I’m fine. She might be living with the president, but that’s not where she wants to be.”

“Yeah, she’d prefer laying beneath my best friend. She got herself into this mess.”

“She was a fucking kid with Bucky,” Steve’s eyes go wide as he looks at this newcomer. “She was raised by a bunch of old ladies. Is it any surprise that she felt her place was laying underneath one of you? That’s all she knows, and you’re blaming her like it’s her fault. Why do you think she’s with someone Ari’s age? Doesn’t he have a kid who she’s closer to his age? I see what Curtis was talking about. You’re a coward. You could run away so easily, but you left your sister to be devoured by men who don’t see anything past what’s in between her legs. She needs help. And you’re all she’s got.”

“How did you find me?”

“You’re my neighbor, asshole. Have a good evening, ma’am. I see now why Curtis is so concerned for her.”

“He fucking her, too?”

Hayden let’s out an annoyed laugh, “See, even you know that eventually she’ll be used by everyone in that damn club. She’s searching for attention. She needs out.”

Hayden turns to leave, and Steve slowly closes the door. You stand there pissed and flabbergasted at him, “I think it’s about time you start talking about what happened?”

“Doll, she…she got involved with Bucky after high school. Got pregnant, and I guess they lost the baby. She was supposed to be a girl. Doll has always wanted a family. It meant she didn’t have to work at the bar.”

“Oh, the one she’s been working at since she was fifteen? Illegally. It’s amazing she waited until after high school to lose her virginity. It’s a cesspool there. Ari’s had his eyes on her since she turned eighteen. I’m not talking about that. I knew about Bucky. Not the baby though.”

“Can we just eat?” you shake your head no, and start tapping your foot. Crossing your arms on your chest while you glare at him. “I can’t go back.”

“And she can’t stay.”

“Why do I have to take care of her? No one took care of me,” you roll your eyes at him, realizing he doesn’t understand at all.

“Your dad took care of you. Doll had herself and Bucky. He was always more of a brother to her than you were.”

“Yeah, and then he fucking knocked her up. That’s on him.”

“He loves her, Steve! Miscarriages happen, and she had no one. Who was she going to tell that to? You? Your dad? And I’m assuming you just found out? You two need to talk. Neither of you understand each other. But if Curtis is concerned, why aren’t you?”

“If she wants to be…”

“Choose your words carefully, Steven,” you nearly growl at him.

“If she wants to sleep with every member of the club, how is it my fault? Now every time I think about Bucky and her missing a couple of hours, I guess he was just…he was my best friend. And he…do you understand how that feels?”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around him, “And do you know how she feels wanting her baby, and then losing it. Having her crush fall in love with her, and now it’s painful to look at him. I know you’re hurting. But this happened to her and Bucky. Not you. Be empathetic towards her. I expect you to reach out to Curtis, and see what’s going on. Or I withhold sex.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Our dinner is getting cold, Steve. Let’s eat.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist:   @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958​ @infatuatedjanes​ @kaybaby2494 @flannellover67@redbloodedgurl @thedarknessilove @whimsyplaty92 @tryingtosurvivestuff @superforgottensoul @sky0401​

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Donovan Donati, Josh Diaz

Warnings: underage drinking, Donovan doesn't understand the word no (no rape he's just pushy and rude)

Words: 2775

Ao3 link

Safe in Your Arms

---

Why does it seem like when it comes to the word no, no one seems to believe Stiles when he says it? He told both Scott and Lydia that while he’d gladly participate in their game night, he instantly shot down the idea of those games being of the drinking variety. He didn’t want to go to a party. Stiles was outvoted. So he decided that he simply wouldn’t go.

Apparently he can be outvoted with that too.

Bullshit.

That’s how he found himself at Lydia’s packed lake house Friday night. In the middle of a fucking party. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. And neither the banshee or Scott are even hanging out with him!

“You look pissed,” Josh says from behind where Stiles is stewing in the kitchen. The chimera that tried to kill him on the hospital roof turned out to be a pretty great guy when he’s not crazed.

Polishing the rest of his cup of whatever expensive bottle Lydia gave him as consolation for being here, Stiles sighs. Pouring more of the amber liquid about halfway- if he’s forced to be here, he’d rather not remember it- he faces the chimera. “What’s up, Josh?” Stiles aims for easy going, ending up sounding more irritated than anything. He winces, it’s not like it’s the other boy’s fault that he’s here.

“Are you okay?” Josh asks, pouring his red plastic up with the special, supernaturally altered beer.

Scoffing into his drink, “is that you or your Alpha asking?” Stiles fights not to roll his eyes.

Right. Theo Raeken. Josh’s pack Alpha and his own childhood best friend turned enemy. Theo lived here when they were kids, but left after the death- possible murder- of his sister. Stiles can admit that he had a crush on the chimera when they were younger. And if he still does after everything that’s happened since his return- denying Theo’s constant requests to join his pack instead, the chimera trying to kill Scott before getting his own spark, and hurting Lydia- well, Stiles isn’t telling anyone.

Not even himself.

While everyone else seemed to agree to work together for the sake of coexisting in peace and eventually become friends, Stiles just can’t. With Theo at least. Corey, Josh, and Hayden aren’t really at fault having been kidnapped and experimented on. There isn’t a single chimera that Stiles butts heads with like Theo. Not even Tracy and she also tried to kill him. Intentionally.

“It’s just me,” Josh assures him, smiling softly before draining some of his drink. “I like to think we were friends before everything happened.”

“We were- are. We are friends,” Stiles corrects, pinching the bridge of his nose, biting off a groan. Hurting the raiju wasn’t his goal. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I just didn’t really want to be here tonight.”

Josh, like the puppy he is, cocks his head to the side in confusion, “it’s just a party.”

“I don’t have a great track record when it comes to parties,” Stiles deadpans and Josh waves his hand while drinking to tell him to continue. “This girl Heather that I’d known since we were in diapers was kidnapped and ritually sacrificed at her sixteenth birthday party. The last two parties Lydia threw weren’t exactly a fun time either.” Stiles scoffs at the memories. “My ex nearly broke her restraints and killed me. And the one before was a mass hallucination to help bring a psychotic killer back to life.” Taking another sip, he reiterates, “I’m not big on parties anymore.”

“We’re fixing that-” Josh chugs the rest of his beer and tosses the cup in the trash, “-right now.” The chimera grabs Stiles free arm, “finish that,” he points at the drink. Stiles tentatively puts the cup to his lips and the raiju tilts it, “that’s it. Finish up. Good, let’s go.” The human barely has a chance to put his cup down before he’s pulled out of the room.

“Where are you taking me?” The human tries not to trip or bump into anyone as everything gets a nice blur to it. He fails. “Sorry, Liam,” he apologizes to the wolf whose foot he just stomped on.

Josh doesn’t say anything until they’re in the living room where a lot of people have gathered to dance. “Just because you didn’t want to be here,” the raiju starts to sway with the beat, pulling Stiles’ arms like a puppet to get him to move. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself now that you are.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“This is what you do for friends, Stiles.” Josh lets go of his wrists and smiles when the human continues to dance without guidance. “That’s it,” the raiju coos, pulling Stiles- who’s fighting his own smile- by his waist to dance together. Josh leans in to talk in his ear over the music. “Don’t think about Scott. Don’t worry about Theo. Just be. It’s good for you.”

For once in his life, or maybe it’s just the booze, Stiles lets go. Frees his mind and body to the music and to Josh. Allowing himself to just exist with another person and have fun. This is totally something Lydia would’ve done for him. Finding it in the raiju is heartwarming. Josh is a much better friend to him than Stiles initially thought.

They stay like that for another song or two. Dancing, laughing, and having a good time until the raiju’s head jerks up.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles pauses despite the light buzzing in his brain wanting to sway him some more.

Josh smiles and shakes his head, “Alpha calls.” A feeling Stiles certainly understands and tries to leave the ‘dancefloor’. “No, you stay. You smell incredibly happy and at ease. Don’t lose that.” Well, he doesn’t really want to lose the chimera’s company either. “I’ll come back if I can, deal?”

“Deal,” the human beams, effortlessly falling back in time with the thumping speakers. Several songs and some sweat later, just as Stiles is about to leave, a hand wraps around his waist. “Theo done ordering you around already?” The owner of the hand doesn’t answer and a crotch grinds against his ass. “Okay, Josh, that’s a step too-” he shoves the hand away as he turns to find, “Donovan.”

“Hey gorgeous,” the wendigo yanks Stiles to his chest, making the human stumble. “Dance with me,” he says, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck as if it’s meant to make the offer more enticing.

Bile bubbles in Stiles’ chest. “N-no,” the human tries to back away, but Donovan digs his fingers in.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s just one dance.” His lips brush Stiles’ ear, making the nausea worse as fear joins in. “I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

Fight or flight merge together as one inside the human. Kneeing Donovan in the balls, Stiles seethes, “I said no,” before fleeing to the kitchen. Dead set on grabbing a water before locking himself in one of the spare rooms until he’s sober to drive. The room is spinning a little too much for his taste, he could use the hydration.

Thankfully, the kitchen is empty, so Stiles yanks open the fridge and unabashedly chugs a bottle of water. Droplets sliding down his jaw to his neck as he crumples the plastic, gasping loudly once finished. Tossing the empty bottle in the trash, Stiles grabs another, already feeling his head start to clear.

Closing the door, Stiles barely makes it two steps before a hand finds his waist again, forcing him to turn around.

“That wasn’t very nice, Stiles,” Donovan growls.

Sarcastic to his core and unable to stop his remark, Stiles bites back, “not my fault you don’t seem to understand the word no.”

“I saw you dancing all sexy like that,” the wendigo backs him almost completely against the island. “You were begging for someone to touch you. Don’t be such a tease.”

Just as the human is gearing up to let his knee meet Donovan’s nuts again, something beautiful happens. Theo walks into the kitchen. The wendigo isn’t aware of the Alpha’s presence yet. Theo takes one look at them and rolls his eyes. Stiles can’t really blame him. From the outside, this looks like two people becoming intimate with one another. Clearly the chimera isn’t using his senses.

It's a split second decision. But Stiles comes to the conclusion that his self appointed enemy is a much better option than Donovan. "H-hey, babe," Stiles wiggles out of the wendigo's grasp and all but throws himself into Theo's arms once the Alpha is within reach.

The chimera takes one whiff of Stiles' scared scent and his saucers for eyeballs and it clicks. With a low growl, Theo puts the human under his opposite arm, shielding Stiles with his body. "Hey, baby," Theo says easily, like he has thousands of times before, kissing Stiles' temple. He can't even be mad about it, it needs to be believable for Donovan. He's definitely ignoring how nice it felt. "Is this guy bothering you?"

"Of course not," Donovan smiles too widely. "Stiles and I were just talking."

Theo scoffs, "really? It seemed to me like you were putting your hands where they don't belong." Stiles curls into the Alpha at the wendigo's sneer.

"Maybe you should keep your bitch on a leash."

"Watch it," Theo growls.

"It's not my fault he was flaunting himself and flashing fuck me eyes like a slut."

The chimera snarls, putting Stiles behind him and lunging the small space, grabbing Donovan by his collar, "What about my eyes, hmm? What are they telling you?" Theo rumbles threateningly, "touch what's mine again and you'll lose your fucking hands. Got it?"

Donovan, visibly shaking from Alpha authority, or just being scared shitless stammers out, "y-yeah. T-totally. Never again, I p-promise."

"Good," Theo says lightheartedly, letting go and brushing the wendigo's shoulders off like his last sentence wasn’t a threat. "Now apologize to him." Donovan goes to speak, but Theo cuts him off, pointing his finger at him. "Make it count, because these are the last words you ever say to my mate, do you understand?"

If at all possible, the wendigo pales even more at the word mate. Stiles does his best to not look as shell-shocked as he feels. He didn't expect Theo to hold up the façade this well. But here we are. Maybe Stiles was wrong about him after all. His heart is certainly loving the entire situation. If it were its own being, the damn thing would probably be licking the Alpha’s fucking face. Traitor.

"Fuck," Donovan mumbles. "I'm so sorry for acting like that, Stiles. If I knew you were mated I never would have pushed. I'm sorry, Theo."

Grabbing Theo's hand in case his words get him in trouble, Stiles retorts, "me being mated with Theo isn't an excuse for you to be a creep to someone that isn't. No means no. The first fucking time." One hundred percent not processing that he more or less accepted Theo to be his mate. By were-creature standards at least.

The chimera squeezes his hand, giving him a mildly shocked look before facing the wendigo. "You heard him. Now fuck off," he enunciates with a snarl to drive the point home.

Donovan runs.

Stiles tries to let go of the huffing Alpha, "I-I'm sorry, Theo-"

"Not here," the chimera cuts him off, sounding like he's still slurring through his fangs. Then Theo's guiding him upstairs to the soundproofed room with the record player, holding his hand the entire way. The human is incredibly thankful for the security. And also too busy focusing on that to notice the way Theo's thumb brushes the back of his hand. The Alpha closes the door behind them, shutting out the raging party downstairs. The only sound left is Stiles’ hammering heart and Theo’s quick, forced breaths.

Stiles can’t handle the silence, “I’m sorry I put you in that position. I just didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t listening to me tell him no and apparently me kneeing him in the balls was too subtle.” Red eyes meet his amber and the human is terrified he’s pissed Theo off. “I really am sorry if I made you uncomfortable too, but, thank you for helping me.”

Still the Alpha doesn’t speak and it’s then Stiles realizes they’re still holding hands. When he tries to let go, Theo holds tighter. “I need you to be completely honest with me, Stiles.” His words are clipped, like he’s forcing himself to stay in control and speak in complete sentences. Theo’s fangs are gone, but his rubies burn on. “No lies. No half truths. No tricks. Can you do that?”

When he opens his mouth to speak, no words come out. How the fuck is he supposed to be honest after what just happened? But still, Stiles nods his head.

“I’m glad you finally feel safe around me,” Theo starts. “But would you have pulled the babe card with anyone else?”

“Probably not.” That’s technically the truth. Stiles just can’t really admit what that fact means. That he’s happy it was Theo that showed up. That he could pretend for half a second that what he was suggesting was actually reality. That Theo was his. But then that would mean he would have to say those words out loud. That Stiles is painfully in love with someone who’s done heinous things and the human doesn’t care nearly as much about it as he says he does.

Pinching his eyes closed, “I’m trying to keep two supernatural creatures under control right now, Stiles.” Theo’s red eyes bore into him once more. “Yes or no, please.”

Shit.

“No,” he says and the chimera huffs out a short laugh, turning his head. Finding some sense of courage, or maybe it’s actually fear of what the Alpha’s next question would be, Stiles says, “I get why you called me baby and kissed my head. Donovan needed to believe it was the truth. But why did you push it farther and call me your mate?”

“Miecz,” Theo almost whispers, blue eyes gracing his face again when he looks back. The name, still warming Stiles’ gut and comforting his heart. “You really need to ask?” His words are so soft and Stiles can’t help but nod. “Why do you think I wanted you in my pack so badly? Your brain is amazing and you’re strong as hell, you’d be an asset to any pack, yes. But you and I both know that’s not the real reason.”

“It’s not?” Stiles asks, sounding just as breathless and not entirely sure when that happened. He can’t even say why he asked in the first place, suddenly knowing damn sure of the answer. How could he have been so blind? So fucking stubborn? Because Theo has more than proved that he’s not who he used to be. That he’s more or less good. And Stiles has been stupidly denying himself because of his pride.

“Tell me you don’t want this- me,” Theo steps closer, stroking the back of the human’s hand again. “We can work up to mates if you’re comfortable with that. If you even want that. But just,” the Alpha sighs, taking another step until their chests are so close that if they took too deep of a breath they’d touch. “If you tell me no, I’ll respect it and walk away.”

Stiles’ eyes dart around the chimera’s face, trying to find some sense of a joke in this. Things don’t work out this well for him on a good day. But he finds nothing but earnest in those ocean pools. So he finds no trouble saying, “yes,” and closes the distance of their mouths. Humming softly into the kiss, he presses his body against the Alpha’s wrapping his arms around the chimera. Theo’s hand pulls them flush by the small of Stiles’ back, the other cupping his cheek as his tongue slips into the human’s mouth to deepen their kiss.

It’s not fireworks and choirs singing, but fuck if it doesn’t feel right. Like something he should’ve been doing for a long time now.

“Thank you so much for walking in the kitchen,” Stiles mumbles when they part for air.

Theo chuckles, dropping his hand to keep the human close, “I told you I’d look out for you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Stiles grins, “but I’d much prefer if you just kissed me again.”

Theo presses their lips together again with a soft chuckle.

Maybe coming to the party wasn’t so bad after all.

[because-hayden-said-so]

Hayden remained where he was, allowing the chaos to spring around him. His eyes locked on Jace was he was relinquished to his people and taken safely inside. He noted with some satisfaction, that Ava disappeared with Alec after them. He could trust his people to do what they did best, and what they couldn't heal, the High Warlock of Chicago would swoop in and fix. Knowing all of that eased his mind enough to focus on the more pressing issue. The shifters standing on the steps of the Institute.

He watched with a cool indifference as the pack second sent the other two shifters away. For some reason this felt satisfying in some primal way. Because now Hayden faced one shifter, instead of three. He felt Odette more than he saw her, and his jaw clenched. But he knew somehow that during the commotion, Finn ventured out, flanking his sister and parabatai. Odette's refusal to budge normally would have set him into a rage but...there were more important things at stake tonight. So he allowed his sister, and her silent protector to remain where they were.

Narrowing his eyes at the shifter, no Jonathan Lockhart, was his name. A wolf. Like the alpha. Hayden met his gaze. With a challenge and a promise. Though he didn't make any move to attack or even draw a weapon. Let the shifter make the first move. Let him try. The explanation was unsatisfactory, and Hayden told him so with his expression.

"Jace was on patrol tonight." Hayden said, realizing that fact finally. Or was supposed to be, anyway. Alec had come back and Jace had not. Which, Hayden would worry about another time. But the truth was he hadn't known Jace's activities. And that made him all the more angry about the less than acceptable story Jonathan provided. "This fight...where did it take place?" He asked cooly. It would matter he knew. It would matter who had the jurisdiction.

Inside the Institute, Alec stood in the center of the chaos. He knew Ava was there. But that was about it. All the other faces seeming to swim in and out of focus as they hurried around. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, and he knew that it wasn't his heart beat he was feeling. He staggered forward a step nearer to the bed, to Jace, who was laying there, fighting for his life.

There was so much blood. Jace was coated in it. His heart was beating too hard, too fast. The flurry of stele's tracing runes of healing on his parabatai's bruised skin. But they wouldn't work. He knew they wouldn't work. He was too far gone for that. The marks merely faded, the scent of burning flesh filling the room.

He felt Jace stop breathing. He felt the stutter of his heart as it fought to keep beating. And Alec's knees buckled. If Ava hadn't been standing there, he would have fallen to the floor. "No!" He cried out as the world seemed to close in around him. Jace. He could feel him slipping away. His parabatai rune burning on his skin. But, Alec wasn't about to allow that. Disentangling himself from Ava he launched himself up onto the bed. The strength came from somewhere, and Alec didn't know where that had been. But it was there. And it was coursing through his veins. Stradling Jace's body he slammed the heel of his hand into his chest, as if he could reach in and close his fist around his heart, pumping it himself. "Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare, Jace!"

Ava hadn't been asleep when the wards started blaring. She'd been at her desk, because she couldn't sleep, writing a letter. A letter she abandoned without a second thought. Now she was stood on the front step on the Institute in her pj shorts and an old, baggy RNLI t-shirt, looking at her friend bleeding in the arms of a shifter. She couldn't pull her gaze away from the horrific sight, that is until she heard Alec cry out.

Giving Odette's hand one last squeeze she pulled her hand from hers, moving to Alec's other side. She snaked her arm round his waist, painfully aware of what he must be feeling right now. Her grip on him tightened when Hayden pushed him back into them. "I know, I know," she whispered to him as he struggled. She hated keeping him from Jace but she understood why Hayden was doing it. They didn't have a clear enough picture of what was going on yet, of what had happened.

At the order Joseph moved forward from where he'd been stood on the threshold, replacing the blade he'd drawn in it's sheath along the back of his belt. He went straight to the shifter holding Jace, carefully taking him from his arms. Joseph was relieved when the shifter didn't fight him, even helped him take him.

"The wounds in his abdomen will need to be checked for claw fragments, I didn't have time," Robbie told the blond nephilim who had answered to the order from the Institute head. Fletcher had moved forward to help too, ensuring the transfer of Jace's unconscious form from Robbie to this man was as gentle as it could be.

Claws? what the hell had happened. Joseph didn't voice the question though, just nodded before hurrying back inside.

Cece hadn't gotten a good look at what was going on until Joseph came in through the main door carrying Jace. She actually gasped, unconsciously grabbing her parabatai's hand. Her gaze found Jamie who had also been ordered to the infirmary. Then she was running ahead of Bo and Joseph, wanting to get a head start on gathering what they'd need.

Ava steered Alec back inside. "We shouldn't separate them," she said to Odette as she tried to swallow down her own panic. Not just for Alec's sake but for Jace's too. She didn't want Hayden out the on his own either though, and found herself glancing back towards where he stood.

"The antiseptic and saline is in that cupboard over there, the one with the blue doors," Cece called to Jamie as the entered the Infirmary. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever guiding force had prompted her to tidy and organise everything in here last week. "Bandages and padding in the one to the right of it, Hunt" she continued as she rushed to pull to top sheets off one of the beds, tossing them onto another before she ran for the cupboard where she'd find the protective gear and medical instruments.

"Put him down there," she instructed as they brought Jace in, motioning to the bed she'd prepared. Cece passed an apron and gloves to Jamie before putting her own on.

[finestmoment]

bree had only spent a few nights with summer and she was still getting used to the idea of having siblings, but she fell into the role of taking care of her sister easily. julian came around a few times and helped and bree was starting to get more comfortable with him too. she hadn't had a chance to talk to julian about wanting to get close to everyone, but he always kept the sunday dinner invitation open to all the siblings. bree decided to finally take julian up on that offer and took summer with her. "i'm anxious to meet everyone." summer held onto her pregnant belly and sat on the couch, keeping her eyes on bree. "well, you're not alone. i've never met hayden or aspen before and i was a bitch to both of them. so, yeah, i'm pretty fucking nervous." everyone started showing up and bree caught eyes with aspen instantly. "shit." she turned towards summer, but summer's eyes were locked on someone else. she saw ian and thought he looked familiar, but it had been a long time since she saw him last. "ian?" summer asked a bit quietly at first, but then her smile grew wider when ian approached her. she didn't even notice bianca who was also nearby.

[yikeshereiam]

oh please please PLEASE i need to know about "EMT Theo Raeken (College AU - Liam in UCLA)"

Enjoy snippet's from both Liam and Theo's POV!

Liam:

It was hard getting the fuck out of Beacon Hills, but Liam wouldn’t have traded the exhausted satisfaction of dumping his pillowcase shoved full of laundry onto the stiff mattress of his dorm room for anything. Even if he had managed to get himself kicked out of the building by the time finals week had rolled round.

Even if, as he comes to a halt at the elevator and reads the sloppily-written, homemade out-of-order sign taped to the doors, he wishes he was back at his parents house, with a car at his disposal, and less than ten flights of stairs awaiting his descent, so he wouldn’t have to be so concerned about missing the bus that’s already dangerously close to arriving at the stop just outside his apartment complex.

Because, as he tells himself whenever anything doesn’t go his way, at least he’s not in Beacon Hills. At least he’s not under the constant surveillance of his worried mother and step-father. Or sitting in a psychiatrist's office, nursing a broken wrist and wishing the ceiling would cave in and put everyone involved out of their misery. Or crashing on some random teammate’s couch, too afraid to go home with bruised knuckles just in case his mom finally decided to check his room to find out he hadn’t been taking his meds. They had made him sedated; sleepy. It was hard to play lacrosse.

His resolve on that fact doesn’t waver. Not when he trips over his own two feet and tumbles head first down the stairs. Or when he tugs out his phone from his back pocket, ignoring the spider-web of cracks on the screen and his unfinished bagel on the floor to his right, and calls the one person he knows is awake at that very moment.

Or when Malia cackles down the phone and is heard stomping around the apartment in search of clothes, telling Liam she’ll be there in a second and hanging up abruptly as soon as Kira and Scott’s voices filter through the speaker.

And certainly not when Scott lets out a low whistle and says, “We probably need to call an ambulance.”

Because Liam may be lying in a heap at the bottom of the flight of stairs, and the world might be spinning more than he would’ve liked, and he’s definitely going to be late for his first day at the local coffee shop coined The Happy Bean.

But at least it isn’t Beacon Hills, right?

Theo:

“Shut up,” Theo says in lieu of an answer. “Some of us have lives outside of this station.”

Hayden scoffs. “Bullshit.”

“I’m finishing up this shift and then I’m going to sleep,” Theo pulls a new uniform shirt over his head and then moves to pick up the one he had thrown at Hayden. “Besides, Tara’s coming over tomorrow and I need to at least be able to pretend I’m having a good time.”

It’s a testament to how easily Hayden had managed to get under Theo’s skin– collapsing down next to him on the couch his first day at the station while he was waiting for the general rundown of the place from his new captain and asking him a barrage of questions Theo didn’t actually answer– because he generally avoids talking about anything from his hometown. Including his family.

Hayden sits up on the bench, interest peaked. “Really? That time of year already?”

The time of year where Theo’s sister would pack up all her stuff and drive all the way to L.A. with less than a days notice because their parents and the town were finally wearing down on her sanity and she needed to get away for a few days before she did something stupid like commit homicide, her words, not his.

“Surprised it took her this long,” Theo says, closing his locker after shoving the shirt inside and finally turning to face Hayden properly. He pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowed and thinks about what Tara had said the last time they’d spoken.

Then, he adds. “Dad’s missing again.”

He feels guilty, sometimes. The nausea creeps up and overwhelms his senses like he’s some kid disobeying his parents for the very first time; like he’s breaking some sort of rule. Crossing a line that was hand drawn in sand by his parents the minute they had decided to settle down in Beacon Hills. A promise stamped onto his forehead in bright red ink that reads, Theo Raeken: Born to Fail, just like his Father.

Hayden’s lip twitches, tugging downwards as she opens her mouth to say something else. Maybe a quip about how Theo’s dad is always missing, or how it’s weird Theo thinks that’s normal. Possibly condolences, because these absences usually stretch on for months, especially if Tara actually makes the move to tell Theo about it.

But before she can get any words out, Jess smacks at the door of the locker room with her palm and says, “Come on you two, asses in the van.”

The siren only starts blaring after Jess runs off and Theo wonders if he’ll ever develop a sixth sense for the emergency thing like she has as he offers Hayden a hand and tugs her up onto her feet.

“Fucking creepy how she keeps doing that,” Hayden says and Theo laughs, grateful for the interruption and pushes at her shoulder as they make their way out of the locker room.

[legobiwan]

Because the thing is that Ahsoka and Thrawn haven’t met (as far as we know) and have no real reason to dislike each other, and if anything they wouldn’t really mind one another — a conflict would have to be written into the situation now. I could see summarised versions of scenes from Alliances being written in / adapted as flashbacks, given they have Hayden Christensen back, and given they did it with The Mandalorian (Cobb Vanth was a book character, and his flashback was him summarising a book. He was also heavily implied to be gay with the guy he was raising a baby Hutt with, but apparently they left them during the month between the books and The Mandalorian, as they were not relevant to the plot. Or how the events or The Clone Wars Season 7 were mentioned in the Ahsoka novel. A few differences, different lightsaber colours and whatnot, but excusable.

I mean, maybe, but Ahsoka didn't seem too thrilled about Thrawn in that Mandalorian episode. They haven't met (we believe), but this scene doesn't really make me feel Ahsoka gets the warm fuzzies when considering Thrawn, either.

And I kind of want to get into an aside about this whole...thing for a moment. This Mandalorian episode was very light on the context of this whole confrontation (which is putting it nicely), but a little bit of a deep dive into Wookieepedia produces, well, an interesting scene.

Morgan Elsbeth

So remember that Clone Wars episode where Lux Bonteri and Ahsoka got stuck on some wintry planet, Bo-Katan smacked Ahsoka in the ass, and then Ahsoka decapitated four members of Death Watch?

That was Carlac.

The slaves from that episode?

Were the Ming Po.

That woman who was executed in that episode?

Was apparently Morgan's sister.

Somehow this led Morgan to wish death upon Ahsoka. That's...a lot of backstory that we didn't get in that episode. And even hardcore Clone Wars fans (a group I consider myself a member of) would have been hard-pressed to make that connection. *handwave*

Thrawn's Confederation...rebuilding the Empire? Oh boy, I really, really hope they're not going to link the First Order to Thrawn, because...eek.

Oof, I mean, the only way I can justify this considering Zahn's current Thrawn-canon is if Thrawn is trying to unite the remanents of the Empire to fight against the Grysk, as the New Republic would just be too busy trying to establish a legitimate government to get involved in the Outer Rim. The Chaos

And so maybe, maybe, we'll get a deep-cut reference to Alliances in order to pull Ahsoka to Thrawn's side. Although who knows where Ahsoka's mind is at regarding Anakin. Surely Luke told her about Anakin's last-ditch effort at redemption on Death Star II. I don't know. I have extremely mixed feelings about Ahsoka post-Rebels Season 2, so to me, it feels somewhat forced (hahahaha, that's a pun).

So yeah, they could include a flashback, but I'm not going to count on it in this context.

Now, the Cobb Vanth information was fascinating and I actually need to read the Aftermath series (I kinda skimmed through one of them - the one where Leia shows up in full "fuck you, I'm Vader's daughter costume," but to be honest, I didn't remember much else from them). I had been wracking my brain as to why I didn't remember Cobb Vanth from the Legends books, but this would explain it, haha.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 here!

A/N: I already know some of y’all are going to be mad, it’s 2020 and twilight needs some diversity, don’t @ me.

* You’re not really sure how you got here

* “This ones done”

* Edward holds out the blood bag to you, carefully pulling out the needles from you beloved Deer, Hayden.

* “Ah, thank you.” You place it carefully along with the others, before lavishing Hayden with affection

* “You were so good today! You’re going to get extra carrots, yes you are!”

* You’re aware of Edwards gaze on you as he disinfects the injection point.

* “You know it’s illegal to have Deer as pets in Alaska don’t you?” The corner of his mouth is quirked in the smallest smirk you have ever seen, and you roll your eyes

* “Tanya got a permit, the official stance is they’re her deer, I just take care of them for some extra pocket money”

* Not that anyone would venture into the “siren house” to ask questions

* You knew people were probably wary of coming up to the estate, even the mail man looked dead scared when he left Irina’s Lululemon packages in the mailbox

* But you didn’t think the locals legit called the manse “The Siren House”

* Edward told you they used to call it “The Witch House” but then, upon seeing the Denali sisters, changed it to Siren

* Edward doesn’t say anything, just moves to take the filled blood bags up to the house

* Ever the gentleman

* You really thought Edward would show up once, figure out he couldn’t read your mind, and retreat into his own moody silence.

* You figured you would mostly be dealing with Carlisle, who would teach you how to draw blood from your heard of deers, and then you would be on your own.

* But instead it was Edward who volunteered to do it for you, Carlisle was busy with his day job after all.

* He shows up once a week, usually after school, and carefully extracts the blood

* Then he puts them inside the fridge and leaves

* You really don’t get what’s going on, if he hates you so much why even bother coming over in the first place

* You’re about to fall into your usual rhythm of handing him the blood bags, which he then puts in the fridge when he breaks your routine

* “Why-“ your head pops up from the small pile of blood bags and to him. He’s looking away, but then his gaze meets yours. “Why go through all this trouble for a few deer.”

* You grin and hand him a blood bag

* “Another vampire might say the same thing to you, why go through all the trouble for a few humans?”

* He flinches, and you laugh. He’s so unaware of himself it’s actually funny

* “For the record, I do it because they remind me of my (Dog/Cat/Pet).” He quirks an eyebrow at that.

* “Your pet?”

* You nod. You’re number one concern on arrival here had been whether your dog was okay, but sifting through your memories of this life, you realized your dog had passed away in the middle of high school.

* “When I look into their face, all I can think about is my dog” you shrug, it’s the same with bears and other animals too.

* “Also, it’s kinda disgusting to drink that blood straight out of the animal.”

* Draining the blood must have deducted something from the taste, you can’t imagine what that skunky revolting flavor would have been like if you were drinking straight from the animal.

* Edward laughs. It’s the first time he’s laughed around you, pearly white canines in full view, the skin at the corner of his eyes folds

* It’s cute, very boyish. You get what Bella was talking about now

* “You get used to it after a while” he shrugs

* You shake your head, no one should ever have to drink that crap

* “Here, try some of my blood” you say it like you’re offering him some cookies you made. You pick up one of the bags, still warm, and he quirks an eyebrow

* This isn’t the first time you’ve offered, usually he declines and rushes to leave

* One time it looked like he might say yes, but then he noticed Tanya and excused himself.

* He accepts the bag, holding it up with one hand

* “Do you pour it in a mug?”

* And so you and Edward sip your blood-Capri-suns in the kitchen that’s only now started to be used

* You sit in the counter cross legged, while he leans against the adjacent counter. Both of you silently sipping your meals.

* “This is really good” he finally says, his blood bag almost empty.

* “Who’d you have? I’ve been trying to add different veggies to their meal to see if it brings out a different flavour profile.”

* He had Henrietta, who you had been giving more citrus too. Partially for flavour, and partially because she’s your favourite

* “It kind of tastes like...fruit punch” Edward recalls after a prolonged minute.

* He seems so nostalgic, you wonder how long it’s been since he’s had human food

* “I think genetics have something to do with the flavour too, the breed from this region all seem to have a fruity aftertaste”

* “I’m partial to deer since they don’t have a strong game taste aftertaste.”

* “Yes! That part is the worst, it’s like eating a skunk” You scowl and he laughs again.

* You know he doesn’t belong to you, he’s Bella’s, in a few years she’ll be all he thinks or cares about.

* But maybe the two of you can be friends until then.

* All at once the moments broken, Edward stands a bit straighter, the smile on his face gone.

* You turn to look behind you to see Carmen.

* Her head is tilted to the side, a smile tugging on her lips

* “You both look like you’re having fun.”

* After that the conversation is pleasant, but it definitely stutters until Edward eventually leaves.

* “I think he likes you” You’re reading a book by the fire, the gentle heat is nice and it sets the mood.

* “What?”

* Carmen’s grinning

* “The Cullen boy is interested in you.”

* You just shake your head. You doubt it, Edwards only got a one track mind for one person. And it’s not you

* “It would be nice if we could be friends though, I don’t really know many other people my physical age.”

* Carmen stops mid-stitch on her embroidery hoop

* “Is that something you want? Because the Cullen’s have other’s your a-“

* “I don’t need you to set up play dates for me Carmen”

* “Understood”

* Edward comes by regularly, to help you with your animals. You’re both always under the (discrete) supervision of one of your guardians (excluding Tanya of course.)

* And with each visit you learn a little more about him

* You find out that right now he’s masquerading as a senior in high school, he’s considering going to college for veterinary sciences

* “Why veterinary sciences?” You wonder if he’s about to poach your best deer and start his own blood business when he shrugs

* “It’s one of the few degrees I don’t have”

* You’re drinking blood-Capri-suns out on the porch, he’s still in his school clothes, including a very puffy jacket

* “What were you going to do?” Your raise an eyebrow and he elaborates “before you turned, what were you plans for the future.”

* “I was on my graduation trip, I was going to college in the fall”

* You got accepted into your safety school with a generous scholarship.

* Edward doesn’t press any further. But you can tell that he wants too.

* Many nights go by, you experiment with you animals diets, have supervised hang-outs with Edward, you meet Carlisle every so often who basically gives you therapy and helps you control your emotions

* Life is good

* But your growing complacency with the situation is starting to bother you

* You haven’t forgotten about Alec and Jane who are still fighting so hard to survive, or the countless others who would prefer this way of life if they only knew

* You know the minute you start being content is the minute the world wins

* So every night -or really every so often, you’ve lost all perception of time, the nights in Alaska are totally fucked and these heathens don’t even have a damn clock. Your only really sign of time is the mail man dropping off amazon packages- you sit and dream

* You think about giving back to the community, about saving your friends, and about dethroning fucking Aro

* You’re only at the beginning now, there’s still so much work to do, but it’s a start

* You hear a noise and your eyes open

* If you had a beating heart it would stutter when it saw Edward standing beside your bed, your hand moves on it’s own through reflex, clutching your heart

* Under the circumstances you would expect someone else to laugh, but Edward just looks confused

* “Are you...sleeping?”

* “I like to pretend, it’s a nice way to end the day” he raises an eyebrow at that

* “It’s 4 in the afternoon”

* “Well damn Edward, we don’t have any clocks in this house, how am I supposed to know what time it is.”

* He does laugh at that

* “Is it...nice?”

* “Yeah, it’s pretty relaxing, kills some time too.” Noticing the curious look on his face, you ask:

* “Do you want to try?” You pat the space on the bed beside you.

* You’re fully expecting for Edward with his old fashioned virtues to deny your suggestion. So you’re surprised that after several long seconds of silence, and a rather pained look, he adheres to your request and lies next to you on your bed.

* It’s a king size bed, so he’s at least three Great Danes away from you, but the closeness still surprises you.

* “What do I do now?” He says, eyes closed.

* “Daydream, or fantasise I guess, about things that happened in your day, or things you wish happened, places you want to go and memories you wish you could relive”

* “What do you usually dream about?” He asks, eyes open now

* “I think about Jane,” the answer is automatic, and you regret it as soon as the words come out. But Edward’s expression doesn’t change so you continue. “I think about my deers and my family too.” Most of the time you’re just thinking about what animal you want to excitement with next tbh

* “And sometimes I think about you.”

* And how glad you are to have a friend

* Edward doesn’t say anything for a long time, and for a second you hope he hasn’t misunderstood your words, you know he’ll never feel that way about you. All of those romantic feelings are saved for Bella

* “Would you like to come to my house sometime?” The questions throws you off, and your expression illicit’s a laugh from him. “Emmett and Esme are dying to meet the newborn from the Denali coven”

* That’s probably true for Esme, you’re pretty sure Emmett just wants to have some physical match with the “Volturi-reject”

* “That sounds fun, sure.”

* Maybe they have a clock in their house you can steal

* Edward shows up the next day in his shiny white Volvo to pick you up.

* On either side of you on the front porch are Carmen and Kate with their most fierce expressions (and behind them is Eleazer who just looks like he’s along for the ride)

* “Where are you going?” Kate asks

* “Our home on the other side of the mountain, you’ve been there before” Edwards got a small smile curling in his lips, and an eyebrow raised.

* “What will you do?” Carmen asks

* “My family’s having a board game night, I think we’re playing monopoly”

* “What time will you bring them home?” Kate intervenes, man they’re not even pretending to be polite

* “Well it’s not a school night-“ Seeing his joke isn’t going to land, he rethinks his words midway

* “Whenever they tell me to.”

* You’re half expecting to get a curfew, even though this household seems to operate without the concept of time, when Eleazer interjects

* “Well be safe, and have a good time.” He slides a backpack up your shoulders. “I packed you some blood bags in case you get hungry, Henrietta’s since I know that’s your favourite.”

* He’s the only one waving as you get into Edward’s car

* The view as you drive is breath taking, the snow covered mountains, abs crisp green trees

* Edward laughs beside you, at your awestruck expression no doubt

* “You don’t get out much do you?”

* You have your nose practically pressed to the glass

* “Not at all.”

* The Cullen’s home is reminiscent of the one from the movies. All light, with glass everywhere. It’s like a aurora, all wavy with no true shape

* “Welcome to our home (Y/N)” Carlisle greats you first, and behind him is... Esme

* She’s not at all like the books or the movie

* She’s definitely not white, you can’t tell exactly what race, but she’s definitely a POC.

* Her caramel cheekbones seem even more prominent when she offers you a smile.

* “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’m Esme.”

* For some reason her being a POC, makes you feel more comfortable around her.

* Maybe you will ask her to draw up those plans for a proper barn.

* Edward stifles a laugh behind you, and you raise an eyebrow.

* “Emmett is dying to meet you upstairs.”

* You follow Edward up the stairs, finally meeting the family that spawned four books and a movie franchise.

* None of them look like they’re actor counterparts

* For one Emmett is black. And also really handsome, he’s got this Chadwick Boseman look alike thing going on and you’re down for it (RIP)

* Rosalie looks basically the way she was described in the books, all blonde hair and angel faced, but she’s the only one

* Alice is definitely Asian, she kinda looks like Lana Condor

* Jasper.... is ambiguously brown, but it still makes you let out a sigh of relief when you remember he was a Major in the CONFEDERATE army.

* More to the story than someone who was blatantly racist and supported slavery.

* They’re all beautiful, and they terrify you. You’re not exactly sure why, but something primal in you tells you to run away as fast as you can.

* But Edward lightly brushed the small of your back, pushing you forward. Right into the lions den.

* “Hello, I’m Rosalie”

* Looks like they picked her to be their spokesperson, all glittering smiles and flawless cheekbones. She extends her hand, and you lightly grasp it.

* “It’s nice to meet you.”

* It’s surreal to think how you know almost everything about this girl, while you two are virtually strangers

* Jasper introduces himself next, all smiles and quiet gentlemanly behavior.

* You’re not really sure what to expect with Alice, from what you know this girl has seen every future you could possibly have.

* Who knows what she saw

* But when she stands she hugs you

* “It’s good to see you!”

* “Alice, you haven’t introduced yourself”

* “Oh, right. I’m Alice”

* Emmett claps you on the back like you’re an old friend.

* “So, I heard you used to hang out with the sadist twins in the Volturi”

* You can practically feel the tension in the air, even Edward winces

* “They’re not so bad” really, what did anyone expect when they were in that environment

* Emmett grins

* “That’s bad ass”

* The rest of the night passes in a blur. The cullen’s game of monopoly includes some monstrous version where they put 8 different themed boards together and play in teams (You’re obviously on Edward and Alice’s team)

* They also have some sort of structure where they put four hotels together and called it a mega-hotel

* The whole thing blows up when Emmett accused Alice and Edward of using their powers to cheat

* “What do you want me to do, I can’t turn it off when I want Emmett, trust me I would especially when you and-“

* “Oh shut up Emmett, like we haven’t noticed Rosalie has an awful lot of $500 bills” Jasper interjects

* “It’s because you always pay me rent in small change!” She screams

* “Now-“ Carlisle tried to interject but Alice stands up

* “That’s a lie! I saw you steal from the bank several times when Esme wasn’t looking” Alice screams

* It goes on like this until Carlisle Declares the game over, and shoos everyone away.

* “Sorry, I would say it’s usually not like this, but I would be lying” Edward grins and you shrug

* “It was pretty fun and... entertaining in its own way” Edward beams at you, and once again, you definitely feel the dazzling effect Bella described in the movies

* “Should I... take you home now?” You can tell he doesn’t want to take you back yet, and if you’re being honest you don’t want to go back either

* The Cullen’s house has so much light, and you can see the stars so clearly here

* And if you’re being honest things seem to be way more entertaining here

* Edward takes you to a nook which houses a grand piano

* You’re fingers instinctively roam over the keys.

* “Do you play?”

* “Just a bit”

* You’re not the one who knew how to play, not really. But now this body is yours. You’ve thought about asking Carmen for a Piano, you’re sure they would love something that adds to the gothic feel of the mansion, but always cast it aside.

* You’re busy enough with your research.

* “Play me something” Edward grins.

* Alec had said the same thing to you when you were first taken by the Volturi, at the time your mind had raced wondering which piece would impress him the most. Which would aide in your survival.

* But looking at Edward now, you know that it’s not the same situation.

* He really does want you to play whatever your heart desires

* So you play “Love like you”, accompanied by your quiet voice reciting the lyrics

* At some point Edward sits beside you, playing in a deeper key, adding another layer of depth to your performance

* Wordlessly, afterwards he plays a piece of his own, Claire de Lune. Which you know is a remarkably hard piece.

* Still halfway you chime in, your super human fingers keeping up with him with ease

* And so it goes on like this, you play a modern song, waiting for him to catch up and he does the same with a classic

* Like a never ending game of cat and mouse

* It stops abruptly when Edward is in the middle of “moonlight sonata” when Alice clears her throat from behind you.

* “I hate to disturb,” there’s a teasing grin arched on her face. “But if you don’t drop them off, Carmen and Tanya are going to come over personally to retrieve them-“

* You see Edward wince, no doubt reviving Alice’s vision through his ability

* “And I don’t think anyone wants that.”

* You nod, moving to grab your backpack when you overhear Alice say-

* “You never let me play like that with you”

* Edward let’s out some sort of noise akin to a scoff

* “Where did you learn those songs?” He asks when you’re on the road

* Well you can’t tell him they’re from artists who aren’t known yet

* “Personal compositions” you murmur, and Edward grins his dazzling grin

* You talk about nothing but music until you pull into the familiar circle driveway of the manse

* Right when you’re about to thank him for a fun time, he gently stops you with a fleeting touch to your shoulder.

* “I’m graduating next month,” he hands you an envelope which you assume has his graduation card. “I was wondering if you would like to come to the ceremony.”

* You hold the card with both hands stunned, he’s already graduating high school?

* That means only 4 more years until he moves to Forks, and another two until he meets Bella

* And you realize that while time is frozen for both of you until the end of the universe, you’re the only one who isn’t moving forward

* “Yeah, I’d love that!”

* You try your best to smile, but your sure it comes off looking strange

* You don’t talk to anyone, heading straight for your bedroom

* What’s next for you?

[kneamet]

Dependence (17/19)

Trigger Warning: smoking, angst, kidnapping, drugs, references to rape, sex shop, homophobe.

Summary: there were many charms in life. However, Tom Hiddleston, having tried the most forbidden ones, could no longer imagine his life without them. The rest for him was nonsense, not worth his attention. After all, in order to survive, he needs to find a dose, thanks to which he feels better, not paying attention to the other rabble that reigns around. He doesn't care about his mother, who brings men into the house; he doesn't care about his sisters, whom he envies; he doesn't care about the whole world. But soon his search for a new dose will turn into a search for a girl who has won a victory over his drug-addicted mind, absorbing him completely and occupying all his thoughts.

And he won't stop until he gets what he wants.

Chapter seventeen: toys

It didn't take much time to have breakfast and lock the savior in his room again — Thomas also didn't forget to tie her hands with a belt, securing them with tape, and tying them to the headboard of the bed. And of course, the image was completed by an adhesive tape on the lips, which could be easily removed if desired. And if Hayden had — my God! he was still afraid to say her name, even in his thoughts! — could have done it, no one would care. Everyone was too busy with important things and would not want to go to the neighbors. Who was worried about the neighbor's personal life at all? Maybe a woman screaming «help!» has such a fetish? and who are we to condemn other people's tastes?

Tape and belt are simple forced measures. Thomas has all the time in the world and for the first time he will spend it wisely — on the way home, after buying another dose (he has already managed to write to Mark, catching the Internet, distributed by some schoolboy, on the bus), he will have to look into a sex shop... To think that after all these years he would look there again, when was the last time Tom was there? Fifteen years ago? Twenty? It seems that it was still during school: who among the schoolchildren would not want to look into an adult store, embarrassing all mothers who cover their little sons' eyes with a thick hand?

Thomas did not have to sit on the Internet for a long time, it was only necessary to write in the request «handcuffs for adults with a good lock» and «gag for adults». His requests sounded as if they were driven in by a perverted child looking for free porn, but what can you not do for the sake of your beloved. Although at first the idea of buying a collar developed in his head, however, he quickly got rid of it. It would cost more than a gag and handcuffs combined.

And so, at least, will save.

So, taking with him the three hundred pounds he found in his stash, and half of the stolen ones from Chris's jacket — because it's not a good idea to leave the pockets open — Thomas hopes that he has enough. He won't buy meth, he'll take half a gram of skag and that's it; not even worrying that it might not be enough for one appointment. The body is always not enough, but the production of this evi l— fucking hormone of happiness — what is it called there? endogfin? endorphin? ezdongfin? — is provided to him by his savior. But still Tom did not dare to take money from her backpack; he can steal from whores like Chris, but he will not dare to steal his beloved's accumulated money.

It is impossible to believe: a year ago he could not imagine life without black and speed, and now he almost just refuses. And after all, Tom tried to stop using so much, even if he was sure that this would not happen. His heart would rather love pop music than give up the «sweet tempting sin», as one of his wards said at meetings of the NA. What is interesting with him now? Did he die too, or was he able to overcome addiction, send his daughter to school and do what he loves? What did he like there? Motorcycles?

Twitching his head when his thoughts were completely immersed in the past, Thomas blinked quickly, but he was so sleepy. Dozens of houses and hundreds of people rushed past him and the rushing bus, whose faces could not be seen, only at the moments of stops. Tom often did this when there was nothing to do, and there was nothing left but to go to Mark — he watched people: watched their habits, listened to the manner of their speech, looked at their care-burdened faces. Everyone was in a hurry somewhere, everyone was impatient to get busy. Only drug addicts and alcoholics, the unemployed and the poor could not find a place in life. That's why had to rush from one hobby to another, from the first hangout to the third. That's why had to betray friends, and get the desired pills or money.

He examined the bus — next to him sat a stately, plump and with a very firm chin, a man who looked like a bull. The only thing missing from his red face was a large ring. He was reading something on his phone, moving pages on his smartphone with full fingers. And he didn't smell a little bad: gin, similar to the smell of oily Chinese vodka. A girl with a mole on the tip of her nose was sitting closer to the driver and reading a book. Next to her is an infirm old man, causing no other than a feeling of slight disgust.

There was an unpleasant smell in the very air — it was boiled cabbage and old halves. There was a feeling of near-nausea in his throat, and Thomas hoped that he would come out soon. Judging by the stops and street names, had only two left. Two stops and he'll be at Mark's. Two stops and he has to go to a sex shop. Nodding to himself, Tom stands up, touching the fat man's knees with his feet, and suppresses the urge to vomit.

And now the bus stops, allowing Thomas to feel the clean, fresh air — it rained all night and there was grace in the courtyards, wrapped in young and old trees. As a child, he always liked this weather, there were often topics for reflection. He still remembers the time when he walked with Mark on the tram rails and they managed to catch heavy rain mixed with hail. The T-shirts were noticeably wet then, and the sneakers were all covered in mud.

But nothing remains of childhood, except fragmentary, brightly lit scenes, devoid of background and often unintelligible.

It will take a couple of minutes to walk to Mark, and in the meantime Thomas is completely immersed in thoughts about Hayden — how is she there? didn't run away? what if she managed to get free and now her boyfriend is looking for him? he was a cop, wasn't he? wasn't he engaged in the search for drug lords and leaders who deliver goods for a small price? was it really him that Mark was afraid of? was he really afraid of some bespectacled man that he wouldn't be able to injure? perhaps only with their boring jokes.

He couldn't wait to join the cute savior on the bed. He wouldn't have done anything wrong, because until now... he still regrets what happened at night, in the alley; when he did not restrain his animal instincts and decided to do it. Thomas remembered nothing but frightened eyes, the smell of slop, sweat, acute desire and fear. His rescuer didn't even scream, just whispered softly in fear. Tried to escape. If she screamed, did anyone react? If so, why is she still in his apartment?

Thomas was not afraid for his mother, was not afraid of her dumbfounded eyes and loudly beating heart. Moreover, he would even be glad if she fainted— there would be less problems. But now she's with Chris, probably still basking in his arms, being drunk in the trash. She won't even find the keys she keeps in her shaking from constant drunkenness, Tom is sure. And he is also confident in the Mark, which should come in just a few minutes.

Rhythmically tapping an incomprehensible beat to please the song in his head, Thomas, leaning against a graffiti-painted wall, can't wait for an old friend. Where is he? Maybe he's waiting? Waiting until no one is there? Meanwhile, Lou Reed's voice mumbles unobtrusively in his thoughts — he sings either «Perfect day», «Heroin», or «Venus in Furs» in general. Complete confusion, utter disorder. And how does he get along with it?

Exhaling irritably, Thomas suppresses the urge to yawn. His hands are shaking, as always, everyone will think. Eyes are closing, and the sweat is pouring out like it's not in itself. Coldly. Freezing again. Withdrawal is again. This fucking withdrawal thing again, damn it! Why can't things be simpler? Why can't the body not arrange this fucking detoxification? — to put it like all agents or psychologists,but what did everyone call modestly «cleansing». Why is it impossible not to get used to it? Why can't you just smoke weed or just inject, why should addiction always appear?

Throat is dry. He is thirsty. Drink a lot. Preferably something with gases. Thomas knows: as soon as Mark comes, this very second, he will beg for money in it. A pound, a couple of pence, just a drink. He won't refuse him. And he probably forgot about the money he was begging for in the cafe. Mark was, as it were, very forgiving, almost did not remind about the debt. Suddenly, a soft knock is heard — someone stepped on the glass and this makes Thomas shudder. He looks around and how happy his heart is when he does not notice the police. Only Mark, carefully inspecting the place for the presence of cops.

"What, so scary? Don't be afraid, I certainly won't bring anyone," Thomas says with a grin, holding an unlit cigarette between his lips. Mark jerks sharply at the sound of the voice and looks at an old friend standing with his arms open; he does not know that he is diligently restraining withdrawal, he thinks it will not be enough for four hours, but soon he's definitely fucked up. "Hello," slapping on the shoulder and inhaling such a native smell — cherry cigarettes, something old, — asks: "Will you help?"

Somewhat hesitantly and, as if forgetting, Mark looks at Tom, until, not coming to his senses, he reaches into his jacket pocket — it's winter — and pulls out a small lighter, presenting it to a friend's cigarette. He exhales with satisfaction, taking the first puff. He's kind of nervous today, it seems to Tom, twitchy.

"Anyway, how are you?" he continues to stand, relaxed, feeling only a slippery burning sensation near the wound in the crook of his arm and permafrost, despite the immodesty of his clothes. Although it's not really cold outside.

"It's okay," he says softly, tenderly, almost feminine. Tom suppresses a wry smile; before, when he was still young, at school, going to the toilet with friends, he and Mickey always laughed at Mark's strange habits. Not taking into account the fact that he was his best friend — and the only one — there was always something gay about him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. However, he was not gay either. And if he was, he definitely wouldn't fit into their company. Especially remembering the harsh threats in the direction of faggots from Mickey. "I'm... look, I'm not sure I can give much right now, you know..."

"How much?"

Resolutely, rudely. Why mumble, if you can say it the way it is? Mark immediately straightened his hair, swallowing.

"Listen, Tom, I can push you the goods. As usual. It's just that there are some delivery problems right now, you know, my boss, he... the cops seem to be coming out to him, — the DEA in particular, that's why, and people like me in particular, I, you know, saw the ads..." Mark stammers, so in an uncharacteristic adult manner that Tom can't stand. Since when has he become like this? Didn't this strange boy, but at the same time a fucking friend with similar interests, leave? Hasn't he changed? So why is he mumbling like a girl now?

"Fuck, Mark, listen, I don't care, just give me skag, everything freezes me out," Tom says irritably, shrugging his shoulders, to which Mark only frowns somewhat perplexed, but with humility. "I also have unthinkable problems, you know. In particular, with a girl..."

"A girl? Do you have a girlfriend?" Mark asks abruptly, lifting his blonde head, where the paint began to leave, returning its native color (what is it like for him? Fair-haired?) and rummaging in the inside pocket. Thomas breaks into a slightly tender smile at the memory of his savior's voice.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"A couple of months already," he shrugs and, ceasing to beat the rhythm, tightens, exhaling layered smoke. "Will you fucking sell to me or not?"

Pinkman, without saying a word, just holds out a bag with a few grams of heroin, this time only without speed. «How much?» asks Thomas, counting out the money (and this slightly amazes Mark; since when has he had so much?). «As usual, you know», Mark sighs resignedly, lifting himself up to light a cigarette. Thomas, having given the amount, turns around and leaves without a word — but he wanted to ask for money to quench his thirst, it seems. So why didn't ask?

Thomas wanders around the block, safely hiding the dope, and tries to find a shop full of neon and something bright, perhaps pink and red. He wanders around the yards, but does not go very far from the bus stop and thinks while smoking an almost smoked cigarette. Thomas is thinking about dear Hayden, doomed to be alone in his apartment, afraid of every rustle; she is definitely thinking about him now, he is sure! he thinks about heroin, suppressing desire and itchy skin, peeling, covered with calloused hair. He thinks about the past, where the obsessive record with Iggy Pop is spinning, to whose concert they almost managed to get.

There is dust in the air, gathering in clumps thanks to gases and machine waste, thanks to old grandmothers, in the wrinkles of which the same dust lies. He didn't know where to go very well, he didn't recognize the area very well, but everything seemed vaguely familiar, something old, from the past. Identical nine-storey buildings built in this and the neighboring area and inspiring only despair and sadness. Old people teaching young people how to live while they themselves wrap up shoals in the storerooms. Stores that haven't changed their names since Morrison's death.

The shops.

Fixing his gaze on the row of shops, Tom smiles gently when he sees an erotic picture on a black background with the distorted word «sex». He walks towards it, slapping the bottom pocket of his jacket with satisfaction. She'll like it. She will appreciate his gift — so generous! he will spend more on it than he spent on cigarettes in the last month! Pulling the handle, the door opens and the smell of silicone mixed with bleach immediately hits the nose. The sterility of the store, the shine of the floor and huge rubber members, near whose vibrators, handcuffs, anal plugs in special boxes and collars hung, immediately hit eyes.

The seller immediately reacted to the incident, putting aside a small magazine with naked women — and do they still produce such? — and adjusting the jars of grease standing on the cash register. The guy was wearing a pink T-shirt over a black sweatshirt. Thomas smiled wryly, noticing dyed white hair,  a lot of rings on his fingers and loud chewing gum, annoying like a squelch when eating soup. A smile blossomed on the guy's face, a revealing smile. Perhaps he was really happy with the only buyer.

Even if at first the smile seemed somewhat, how to say it, hypocritical.

"Can I help you, sir?" He made sure, getting up from his seat, and Thomas squinted at the badge. Nigel. A name like a pigeon. In his class, think there was a boy named Nigel, he also seemed to like chess. The guy looked at him expectantly, but Tom shook his head, staring at the hanging handcuffs and gags; he was trying to find reliable, but not expensive ones. Nigel turned his attention back to the magazines.

He had to go to such places on a dispute, but, in fact, at that time it was less civilized and cheaper here. Since when are gags so expensive? It's just a plastic mask... fucked up. And the handcuffs are not exactly police, in which case at least it was possible to justify their cost. Despite the fact that he didn't even know half of the things here, it definitely turned him on: for some reason, the image of a sweet savior lying down in front of him immediately popped into his head.  Naked. However, afraid to show a boner, Thomas adjusted his pants, only a little hesitantly, grabbing handcuffs at an affordable price — seemingly extremely reliable — and a red gag with holes.

Heading to the cash register and putting the things he was buying on the table, he grinned slightly when he noticed a bear dressed in a BDSM-costume holding a whip on the counter behind. Wonder why a bear? Plush. After paying off the guy — who asked him about whether he would pay with a card or not (as if he looked like such a person!), — Thomas puts the rest in his pocket. Surprisingly, it turned out to be cheaper in the store than on the Internet. Nigel put everything in a bag for him, stylized according to the brand and style of the store, albeit with a missing name.

Thomas's soul was burning brightly with a sense of euphoria, anticipation of the future — he imagined thousands, no, millions of scenarios were heard in his crazy, very drunk head! how happy his savior will be, glad that he did it for her. And only for her sake! She was everything, everything possible! The memory of their first meeting was still fresh in his mind — when she, ignoring all the rules and regulations, saved him; the memory of the second meeting, when he even managed to start a conversation with her. She was so tender, his Hayden, so needed with him.

And he was just smoking another cigarette, afraid to go into the house.

Thomas hoped that his rescuer was fine and was now quietly snoring in his bed. There is emptiness on his face, and in his head is the sweet face of a wonderful savior, charming, like a mermaid, voice. She was attractive, so forbidding and so charming. There was nothing forbidden in his life, but Hayden — oh, how he favored her name — she was able to break all the foundations. She was like... like... like heroin in the hands of a novice addict. Tom walks slowly, completely lost in thought, not noticing even the simplest philistine actions.

A couple of minutes pass — and here he is getting on the bus.

Forty minutes pass — and here is an old stop with a wall decorated with graffiti and plastered with posters.

Five minutes pass — and he is already in the store, buying his favorite cigarettes.

Another fifteen minutes pass — and Tom, inspired by fate, thoughts of his beloved, already opens the door.

Right away, he did not rush to his savior, preferred a more barbaric way, for which he reproached himself; Thomas throws the bag into the corner, to the bedside table, and quickly approaches her, opening the drawer. He needs a dose now, oh, how much he needs heroin, his savior. Tom doesn't rummage for long, he has to run out to the kitchen — what remains past his mind is the absence of his mother and the wakefulness of Hayden, who, according to Hiddleston, should sleep — and just for a spoon. Not daring to join the charming savior on the bed, he has to sit on the floor.

In a jacket that he didn't even take off until he realized the heat, Thomas takes out a small bag and pours a little black onto a spoon bent in advance, from the already burnt back side. He does not ask unnecessary questions, his thoughts are completely empty now, and only the most important objects in life surround the body. Driving a sparkling lighter under the spoon, the powder begins to slowly turn into a brownish liquid and that's what makes Tom smile.

With anticipation and sweetness.

As soon as the liquid has been absorbed into the base, and the biceps has been rewound, allowing the veins to show up, Thomas does not try to find a normal one, but simply introduces the liquid into that strange blue wound. And let him feel a slight pain from the injection at first...

...then he feels warm.

It seems to Thomas that life has improved.

He falls to the floor with a soft thud, allowing his hands to lie down arbitrarily, and opens his mouth, looking at the ceiling with clouded eyes with narrowed pupils.

Thomas thinks he's never felt so good before.

Thomas, forgetting himself completely, thinks only of his beautiful savior.

***

He felt disgusted with himself.

It permeated him from head to toe, penetrated to the very heart.

Mark was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his hands clenched into a fist, his legs clenched, hunched over and his eyes closed. The groans from the next booth did not stop for several minutes, vulgar shouts too. Male, female. The guy called her vulgar names while the girl moaned with pleasure, probably biting her lip. "I'm going to cum now!" the guy shouted. Mark heard their bodies smack, heard the blows. He should have been disgusted with Thomas, but in the end he hated only himself.

In Mr. Walton's bar, sex in toilet stalls was considered quite natural, moreover, especially at such a time. Who cares about fucking teenagers in the nineties anyway? Moreover, no one looks into the toilet — despite the fact that punks often hang around here: children and young people who have decided to sniff for the first time or to get high. Mark was sure that he had seen a girl with a syringe in a vein near the opposite booth, and shuddered at the thought of such a future.

He wanted to be in the place of the girl Tom was fucking right now. His Tom met her a couple of minutes ago when he was sitting on sofas lit by a lot of neon, and passed a small pill into her mouth with his tongue. Mark hardly saw her; only a glimpse, only her red hair, freckled face and blue eyes. Just like him... Sometimes Mark wondered how his fate would have turned out if he had been a girl? Would Tom have loved him? Maybe... Maybe his life happened completely differently?

Maybe he wouldn't have followed this well-trodden path of the Abbot, Kurt Cobain, Sid Vicious and Jonathan Melvoin? Maybe he would have found the approval of his parents, would have started to bring only good grades — although even now, despite addiction and despair, he tried to get out (for which he always received ridicule from Tom or Mickey, who completely gave up on studying), and they would be proud? Just think, so many promises, so many blows, so many sick phrases, so many lumps... All this could have been experienced if he had been born a girl.

Mark is sixteen, and now he is sitting in a toilet stall, listening to the moans of his beloved and the girl.

Mark is sixteen, and he recently cut his hair almost bald, just to attract attention.

Mark is sixteen, and he has lost the meaning of life.

okay, i'm desperate. most likely, almost no one will read it, but i will finish this fanfiction anyway.