#th: brett

[florxdexcerezos]

"You did?" He asked, surprised she had picked something for him. "Thank you." Every gift he was presented with was always met with gratitude and humbled appreciation. Even before he knew what it was. Just the act of being gifted things, of being thought of, brought a tear to his eyes. He reluctantly let her go to find her gift but eagerly waited for her return and her weight to settle back on his lap. Who needed a weighted blanket? Once she was within grasp, he only hesitated to let her pull her dress back up before having her back on his lap where she belonged, tucking his head under her chin and sparing a glance to what she presented.

Quickly pressing a kiss to her neck, he pulled back to inspect the little box. He slowly opened the box and took in every fine detail of the pendants. "They're beautiful, Liz, thank you..." He smiled up at her. "I take it you'll wear my initials? Close to your heart?" Where he could always hope he resided. "May I put it on you? I want you to be close to me forever." That wasn't because he was having a bad day, he was a snuggly man and he wanted his love damnit.

The rumbling of his voice reverberated within her body. He was changing the subject and for now, she would have to accept that. If it was what he was needed, she would give it to him. "Hmm," she smiled, pulling back slightly, she had hoped to keep the surprise she had for him secret until she had to leave for home. Back to New York to convene with Lucius before heading off to another book tour again. "I did and I actually got something for you." Leaning forward, she placed a small kiss on his cheek. "Let me go get it." Her hands took his into hers and gently pulled them off of her. "I'll let right back." Standing up, she pulled her dress down to keep from falling over as it had pooled onto her upper thighs.

As she made her way back to the kitchen she kept talking. "I saw this jewelry maker when I got groceries last week and loved their stuff. So I commissioned them to make us something." Looking through the bag she found the box and with a wide smile made her way back over to him, pulling up the bottom of her dress again to take her seat back on his lap, while she held out the box with her other hand for him to take as she settled her knees on either side of his lap again. "I hope you like."

Once he opened it, he'd find two pendants on silver chains. The front of both had a beautiful claddagh image . The back of one had her initials and the other had his. "It's so we can keep each other close."

[brett-is-afraid]

plot twist: Tommy's Tumblr is in fact still in use but only so he can send anon messages to poppytwt accounts

This has the same energy as people over on Twitter SWEARING one of the creators is part of poppytwt. (Like even going to the point of explaining why it's definitely X and people claiming they're the creator or related to a creator and in poppytwt.)

[twopoppies]

Sorry to go back to Bg but I'm convinced Louis team was intending to let it fade into irrelevance until nobody remembered it until B's sugar daddy exposed her and he/his team did what they always do and overreact instead of using it and backdating the whole thing they went in the opposite direction and pushed to try and cover up the fact he had nothing to do with the kid for years. ( just like with larry,, there was no reason to do all that it just made people more interested in them) all they've done with it is made a bigger mess that's going to be MORE sus and make MORE people look deeper into everything when it finally ends or more likely gets exposed (disclaimer: i dont want him to be exposed it's just the fact is the bigger the lie the harder it is to keep 🤷‍♀️)

Yeah, I agree that Boobgate seemed to be the turning point. I don't think it was entirely an overreaction because they could have course-corrected if so. They haven't yet and it's been two years at this point. I really think there's some kind of legal issue he's trying not to get caught in. There's no way Sony would take the fall if the truth came out. It would all fall on Louis.

I'm not an attorney, but from what I can understand, falsely claiming to be a parent on a birth certificate can lead to serious legal consequences. At the federal level, there is no specific law criminalizing falsely signing a birth certificate, but this type of fraud can have various legal repercussions based on state laws.

False Information as Fraud: In California, knowingly providing false information on a birth certificate is considered a form of fraud, and the state may impose both civil and criminal penalties. California law treats falsely establishing paternity as perjury if done knowingly, which can be a felony with significant fines and potential jail time.

Paternity Presumption: In California, when a man signs a voluntary declaration of paternity, the law presumes he is the legal father. If he later claims he is not the biological father, he may face legal complications, especially if he signed the declaration while knowing he was not the biological parent. Depending on the state, this can be classified as a misdemeanor or felony offense with penalties including fines, imprisonment, or both.

Federal Involvement in Fraud Cases: If the false claim is part of a larger fraud scheme involving benefits, such as falsely claiming dependency benefits, federal charges could apply. For instance, fraudulently claiming a dependent on tax filings (if connected to a fraudulent birth certificate) could lead to charges for tax fraud or other federal offenses. I doubt Briana is filing taxes claiming Freddie as a dependent, but Tammi and Brett may be. Or Louis might be required to do it but isn't. I have no idea, but it's something to think about.

Consequences Beyond Criminal Penalties: Falsely signing a birth certificate can also have serious civil repercussions, especially in cases where paternity or custody rights are contested later. Courts may impose penalties, order repayment of child support or benefits fraudulently obtained (ie: requesting government assistance), and adjust parental rights or responsibilities (would this affect who has the right to care for Freddie and make decisions concerning his well-being?). Additionally, Louis' ability to keep his US Visa (thus being able to visit/tour/work in the US) could be compromised if he were found tp have committed fraud.

(If there are actual Family Law attorneys out there, please correct me if I'm wrong)

This is not to say he is stuck forever. But I think he needs to establish that he THOUGHT he was Freddie's dad for a long enough time to then have a DNA test and prove that he's not, but he can't appear to have known the whole time.

This, IMO, is why fans are better off just shutting up about it right now because constantly pointing out the pregnancy discrepancies, or how much he didn't do in those first five years, probably makes things more difficult for him.

[florxdexcerezos]

"A wise man. Part of the joy of books is getting to read stories that you would never be able to personally experience." Brett set his book away, but still listened intently. Elizabeth's question stirred up some uncomfortable memories for him, but he swallowed them down. Disregarding them entirely to craft a pleasant story, he continued. "It is something that my step-father was into. He's from New Zealand, and it's quite the big thing over there. It was a way for he and I to really bond. I would watch the All Blacks matches with him and we would celebrate their successes together." He hoped that would suffice.

"What about you, what got you into baseball?"

"Thank you." Elizabeth was appreciative of his opinion on her situation. "Lucius is really smart and he came up with this. And you are right," she had to admit that she might have judged the man quickly on sight alone. " My book needs to be less about the sport and more about how it brings the protagonists together. Maybe learning a new sport will help bring up the way that it drives them together. Who knows, I might end up liking it myself too." She doubted that but wanted to be nice.

Part of her was impressed by his choice of reading matter, but doing so would mean her admitting how superficial she had been. How quick she was to judge Brett just because of what he looked like. A smile ticking up the corner of her lips at his enthusiasm about the book. "No apologies needed here. I love reading as much as much as I love writing. So I understand your fascination with your novel and as someone who has written and read her fair share of books, I can say, fact can be just as if not stranger than fiction. And as my dad says, never be sorry for something that brings you joy."

Taking her jacket off, she then brought her notebook and pen out. "If its okay, I wanted to start with some questions about you. Like why rugby? Out of all the sports out there. If that's okay."

[zvaigzdelasas]

Top White House official Brett McGurk is quietly floating a controversial plan to reconstruct Gaza after Israel’s assault concludes, HuffPost has learned, despite serious concerns from some officials inside the administration that it would sow the seeds for future instability in the region.

In recent weeks, McGurk has been pitching national security officials on a plan suggesting an approximately 90-day timeline for what should happen once active fighting in Gaza ends, three U.S. officials said. It argues that stability can be achieved in the devastated Palestinian region if American, Israeli, Palestinian and Saudi officials launch an urgent diplomatic effort that prioritizes the establishment of Israel-Saudi ties, the officials continued. Such a development is widely referred to as “normalization,” given Saudi Arabia’s refusal to recognize Israel since its founding in 1948.

There is a widespread belief that similar U.S.-led deals that involved Israel and other regional Arab governments — and that downplayed Palestinian concerns — have fueled anger and violence, including the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas and other Palestinian militants inside Israel.

Still, U.S. President Joe Biden has echoed his predecessor Donald Trump in arguing that those agreements are vital for the region’s future. Biden’s focus on an Israel-Saudi pact has been especially alarming for Palestinians and officials working on Israeli-Palestinian peace. And McGurk’s accelerated timeline has only caused more concern.

McGurk’s plan would use the incentive of aid for reconstruction from Saudi Arabia and possibly other wealthy Gulf countries like Qatar and the United Arab Emirates to pressure both the Palestinians and the Israelis, per the officials. In this vision, Palestinian leaders would agree to a new government for both Gaza and the occupied West Bank and to ratchet down their criticisms of Israel, while Israel would accept limited influence in Gaza.[...]

A recently conducted poll of Saudis by the Washington Institute for Near East Policy found that nearly 96% believe Arab states should cut any ties with Israel over its conduct in Gaza, and Saudi Arabia has long maintained that it will not establish ties with Israel unless the Israelis permit the establishment of a Palestinian state.

Meanwhile, a host of other forces in the region would rage against an agreement perceived as sidelining Palestinians. That group includes the Houthis[...] “These plans are delusionally optimistic and have numerous spoilers and parties that will be unlikely to cooperate or do what the U.S. plans,” one U.S. official said, pointing to the Houthis but also Palestinians and Israelis[...]

Secretary of State Antony Blinken this week told Israeli counterparts that he expects them to do more to achieve a Saudi-Israel pact than they would have had to do prior to their campaign in Gaza, The Times of Israel reported.[...]

McGurk previously worked on Middle East issues under Trump, who promoted his set of agreements between Arab states and Israel — the so-called Abraham Accords — as one of his biggest triumphs.[...]

In his first public remarks after the Oct. 7 attack, McGurk claimed that he never sidelined Palestinian concerns in pursuing an Israel-Saudi agreement.[...]

“There’s a lot of deja vu in what we’re hearing about the allegedly new thinking,” said Khaled Elgindy, an analyst at the Middle East Institute think tank and former adviser to the Palestinian leadership in Ramallah. “I have a hard time believing that the administration that misread the region for three years before Oct. 7 and certainly deprioritized the Palestinians … can understand Palestinian aspirations.”

“Even if they did understand what was required, would any Palestinian leader be willing to trust them after they have facilitated the annihilation of Gaza?” Elgindy added.[...]

Blinken raised the idea of a new Palestinian Authority cabinet with Abbas this week and the Palestinian leader’s response was “poor,” a U.S. official told HuffPost. State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller disputed that presentation in an email to HuffPost, writing, “This account is false in every respect.”[...]

Lawmakers have repeatedly said their interest in helping Israel make friends in its neighborhood does not outweigh their concerns about what the U.S. would need to commit to in diplomacy for a Saudi-Israel pact — likely a binding American defense treaty with Saudi Arabia and U.S. assistance with a Saudi nuclear program, among other enticements. Congress would have to approve a treaty and could also scrutinize or bar other U.S.-Saudi deals.

12 Jan 24

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 70 – American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis

I’m honestly not sure I ever would have gotten around to reading this on my own, but ended up buying it through the ‘blind date with a book’ thing a bookstore in New York was doing when I was visiting (incredible gimmick, for the record). The fact that it then took me a solid three months to actually finish probably tells you something about how genuinely difficult a read I found it. Not in the sense of being bad, but just legitimately difficult to stomach at points. Overall I’d call it a real triumph of literature.

Not that anyone doesn’t already know, but; the book is spent inside the head of Patrick Bateman, high-flying wall street trader and Harvard blueblood at the close of the Reagan era. Also a serial killer. The story is told as a series of more or less disconnected vignettes, jumping from dinner conversations at one exclusive bar or club or another to the brutal torture and murder of a sex worker to several pages of incredibly vapid pontification on Nina Simone’s discography. The story vaguely tracks Bateman growing ever-more alienated and out of control as the year goes on, but there’s very much not any real single narrative or cathartic climax here. - most stuff just happens (stuff that’s either incredibly tedious or utterly nauseating by turns but still just, stuff).

So yeah this is an intensely literary work (obviously), a word I’m here using to mean one that is as much about the form and style of the writing as about the actual events portrayed. Bateman is a monster, but more than that he’s just an utterly boring and tedious husk of a man, traits which are exaggerated to the point of being fascinating– if you told this story in conventional third person narration without all the weird asides, it would be a) like half as long and b) totally worthless. The tonal whiplash of going from an incredibly visceral depiction of Bateman cutting out the eyes of a homeless man to six (utterly insipid) pages on the merits of The Doors is the selling point here (well actually I think Ellis goes back to that specific well probably one time too many, but in general I mean).

Bateman is a tedious, unstable monster, but as far as the book has an obvious thesis it’s that he differs from the rest of his social milieu only in degree. A symptom of a fundamentally rotten society, not a heroic devil among sheep. The book’s climax, such as it is, involved Bateman getting into a drug-fueled gunfight with the NYPD, shooting multiple people in the middle of the street, and then stumbling home and leaving a rambling confession to every crime on his lawyer’s answering machine – but despite very clearly wanting and trying to get caught and face some sort of consequence or justice, people just refuse to believe that someone like him is capable of anything like that. (It’s not, it must be said, an especially subtle book).

There is, as far as I can recall, not a single character who gets enough screentime to give an idea of their personality who I’d call likeable. Sympathetic, sure, but that’s mostly because it’s pretty much impossible not to sympathize with someone getting horrifically tortured and torn apart (at one point a starving rat is involved). The upper crust of New York yuppie-dom is portrayed as shallow and vapid, casually bigoted towards quite literally everyone who isn’t identical to them, status-obsessed to the point of only being able to understand the world as a collection of markers of class and coolness, and totally incapable of real human connection. Bateman is a monster not because of any freak abnormality, but just because he takes all of that a few steps further than his coworkers.

The book is totally serious and straight-faced in its presentation, and absolutely never acknowledges any of the running gags that are kept up through it. Which shows impressive restraint, and also means that none of them exactly have a payoff or a punchline – it’s just a feature of the world that all the expensive meals at trendy restaurants everyone competes for tables at sound disgusting when you think about them for a moment, or that the whole class of wall street trader guy are so entirely interchangeable that ostensible close friends and coworkers constantly mistake each other for other traders and no one particularly cares. Or – and I’m taking this on faith because fuck knows I’ve got no idea what any of the brands people are wearing are – that the ruinously expensive outfits everyone spends so very much time and money on for every engagement all clash comically if you actually looked up what the different pieces looked like. The book’s in no way really a comedy, so the jokes sit a bit oddly, but they’re still overall pretty funny, at least to me.

I like to think I have something of a strong stomach for unpleasant material in books, but this was the first work of fiction that I had genuine trouble reading for content reasons in I can’t even remember. I’m not sure it’s exactly right to call the violence pornographic in a general sense, but as far as American Psycho goes the register and tone Bateman uses to describe fucking a woman and torturing her to death are basically identical (and told in similarly explicit detail), and all of Bateman’s sexual fantasies are more or less explicitly just porn scenes he wants to recreate, so. Regardless, the result’s pretty alienating in both cases – his internal monologue never really feels anything but detached and almost bored as he relays what he does, sound exactly as vapid and alienated as when he is carefully listing the exact brands and designers every person he ever interacts with is wearing at all times, or arguing over dinner reservations for hours on end with his friends and lovers (though both those terms probably deserve heavy airquotes around them). He legitimately sounds considerably more engaged when talking about arguing over sartorial etiquette. It all adds up to a really strong alienating effect.

Anyways, speaking of sex and violence – perhaps because my main exposure to the story before this was tumblr making memes out of scenes from the movie, but I was pretty shocked by just how explicitly awful Patrick is ‘on screen’. The horrible murder, sure, but also just the casual and frequent use of racist and homophobic slurs, the pathological misogyny, the total breakdown he has at the idea of a gay man being attracted to him and thinking he might reciprocate – all of these are entirely in character for an asshole Wall Street ‘80s Guy even if he wasn’t a serial killer, but it’s still oddly shocking at first to see it so thoroughly represented on the page. It makes how comparatively soft-pedaled the bigotry and just, awfulness, of villains in a lot of more modern books stand out a lot more, I suppose? I have read a lot of books that are in some sense About queerness and/or racism in the last year, and no one in any of them holds a candle to good old Patrick Bateman.

Part of that is just the book being so intensely of its time, I suppose. The New York of this book is very much one of the late ‘80s, incredible wealth living side by side with social rot and decay, crippling poverty everywhere and a society that has to a great degree just stopped caring. Absolutely none of which Bateman or any of his peers care one bit about, of course – they’re too busy showing off the latest walkmans and record players, going to the newest clubs, and just generally enjoying all the fruits of Reagan’s America. Recent history has made the fact that Bateman’s personal idol is Donald Trump almost too on the nose to be interesting, but in 1991 I’m sure it was a bit more subtle in how telling it was.

Anyway, yeah, horrifying and exhausting read, triumph of literature, my god did Easton Ellis hate America (this is a compliment). Now time to go watch the movie!

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Tragedy of Love, Death and Maggots part 11

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

“They're gone,” I whispered, when we were just beyond that vile cathedral. “Both of them. And it's all my fault. I let them die. Oh god, Brett was right. I am a monster.” My legs felt weak.

“No, you're not. You're a fool man, like most men, and I'm a fool woman, like most too, and we need to get out of here before we become dead fools. Now, don't stop. Keep moving. One leg after another. That's right, Doc. We'll work out what to do afterwards,” she coaxed, a hint of the frightened woman I'd seen just a day before lurking beneath the surface. 

“How can you be so calm? They're dead! I might as well have killed them myself. Oh god, I'm a monster. It should have been me, not them. They're just kids, and I was so harsh. This is all my fault.” The words kept on spilling out of my mouth, circling like vultures above a battlefield.

Mrin slapped me. Hard.

“Move, for fuck's sake. Or else we'll be dead too, and you'll have to answer to whatever cruel deity is up there. You're too old and I'm too mean for it all to end here, so let's fucking go!” Tears rimmed her eyes, glistening like reflections of a half-forgotten summer day. I reached out to wipe them away, and she swatted my hand. “I don't want to die, Doc. Come on, get up. Get up. Get up!”

I did, stumbling to my feet, the taste of hunger and phantom flesh spurring me on like a whip to my hide. Her fingers were locked with mine as we ran. It didn't matter where we went. We just had to go away. Get away from it all, go back to the fields of green and a lover's arms, dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, a memory faded like the details on your grandmother's photo.

I missed reality. Oh, how I missed it. This was a bad dream, a bad dream so long and visceral that it had eclipsed awakening like Not-Athena looming over the flickering lamps. I stumbled forwards through the haygrass, my knees aching from running all day. The sun, just beginning its golden descent, laughed at my pathetic fleeing. The wind, thick with pollen, whipped at my over-long hair.

Where was I running from? I remembered concrete, grey, endless running and hiding. Dark eyes, distrustful and hurt, boring into mine. A golden smile, brighter than the sun that shone in my eyes. A scarred woman with sharp eyes and businesslike mannerisms, breaking down before my eyes. 

And something worse. Something so bad I had forgotten. I caught myself against a scarecrow, rough sackcloth and woodgrains bringing a tear to my eyes. I wanted to stop, to rest, but that something pushed me forward. Come on, get up, it urged. Get up. Get up!

The words echoed in my brain, bouncing about like the sting of a slap and the ache of my bones. Why did my cheek sting? Better yet, why did my bones ache? I was still spritely, young-

Old. I was old. Yes, that was it. How could I have forgotten? Mrin was just ahead of me, torn between fleeing and keeping me with her. Athena was possessed, probably dead. And Brett- Oh, gods, Brett!

I shook my head roughly. Why was I crying? I had to move. Keep moving, stop thinking about- whatever it was I remembered. 

I didn't want to dwell on the past. I never did, as an ambitious young man. Better to look to the bright future. It was time to retire, wasn't it? Yes, I could leave the big city, move back out to the old cottage Granny Bella left me, make a home with my love-

My love. Something about that struck me. I didn't have a love. I'd dedicated my life to work, hadn't I? 

But I did. And she was right in front of me. Even if I'd never said it, I knew it to be true. I knew it like I knew her footsteps in the dead of night, her light fingers tinkering with something, the way her hollow socket narrowed when she thought deeply.

And so, in a blaze of fire and scarecrows and memories that weren't, I burst forth from my dream and back into my nightmare.

Fun fact: this story was only meant to be 2 thousand words long. This was not intentional. I would kindly like it to end soon. Unfortunately everyone else has overruled me :(

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#346

“Hey boy get out here.  This is my bud Scott.  He and I go way back to my hauling days well before I married your momma and took the both of you in.  Do you recognize him?  No?  Well he recognizes you.  He said you sucked his dick down at the docks, and that he was one of many men who used you.  That shocked panic look on your face tells me everything….

“Jesus fuck!  Right before your momma passed away, she got me to promise her that I would take care of you.  We knew you were queer.  Hell, I’ve been fine with that.  You know that.  I’ve taken you to some parades.  I went to your fundraisers.  I supported you as if you were my own son.  Your mom would have been proud.

“Now I hear that you are a faggot.  And if you were servicing men at the docks, you were probably whored out by Big Dale.  Am I right?  You meet up with Big Dale and he brings the men to use your holes?...  Answer me!...  For fuck’s sake.

“I can’t believe it!  I have a faggot whore under my roof in my home.  How long have you been a faggot?...  Don’t give me this ‘all my life’ shit.  How long…  Wait a minute.  Do you know the difference between a queer and a faggot?...  You don’t.  A gay boy or a queer boy is what I thought you were, someone who goes to parades and shit like that.  I thought you were going to find another gay boy to date or something.  A faggot on the other hand is a whore to men.  A faggot needs to serve men.  No matter how the man wants to use or abuse a fag, the faggot complies.  A faggot will get smacked around, pissed on, spit roasted, just to get the cum loads.  Cum is the faggot’s motivation.  Degradation, humiliation, and debasement is how it gets it.  So again, are you a faggot?

“Aw, that nod was barely noticeable.  You can do better than that.  Just say it.  We all know it’s true.  Big Dale wouldn’t have taken you in if you weren’t ready to be used.

“About time you admit it.  Jesus fuck.  How long?  How long have you been a faggot?...  Four years?  Fucking hell.  I had a faggot living in my house for four years?  I don’t fucking believe this….

“Why the fuck are you crying?...  Oh for fuck’s sake.  I ain’t going to kick you out.  I didn’t when I knew you were gay, I’m not now.  No, I would have treated you the way that you need to be treated.  I would have been training you…

“Wait a minute!  Wait a minute.  You’re nineteen.  And you have been a fag for four years.  Since you were fifteen?  Jesus Christ!  Maybe it was for the better that I didn’t know.  Don’t need nor want any of that underage bullshit.  Oh my, all those men at the docks and wherever else you went to spread your legs were fucking you underage….  Shit.  I’m not going think about that.

“Well starting today, you are my faggot.  You are no longer my stepson Brett.  You are Faggot or Cunt or whatever I feel like calling you.  I’m going to be a controlling asshole to you going forward. 

“Get the fuck naked.  You will wear what I tell you, and that is nothing.  You will do your chores, cook, yardwork, and so on naked. 

“No hair?...  Did Big Earl do that?  Figured he would.  You are to keep that up.  Bow your head.  You should limit your glances at your superiors. 

“Your pecker is rock hard.  Faggot you really are a faggot.  OK.  Here we go.  I want you to bend over and grab your ankles.  Show us your cunt….  Holy hell.  That is one used cunt.  You still have the cum stew in there from last night, or did you clean out when you got home last night?

“Scott, it’s going to be a mess.  I can break out the hose to clean it out….  Thought so.  Have at it. 

“Faggot, Scott and I go way back, back to my truck driving days.  We used to ride together and tag team faggots across the country.  He knows how to handle a true faggot.  You are going to with him for a four-day run.  You will follow his orders.  He will keep me informed of how you adapt to life as a faggot on a 24 hour a day.  I need to make some adjustments to the house now that I have me a faggot.  You’ll be moving down to the basement for starters.  Got to get a rimseat.  Shit like that.  When you get in, I will break you in properly.

“Damn boy, you are really handling Scott’s beer can dick.  If you think his is fat, just wait, mine is just as fat and two inches longer.”

[gregorovitch-adler]

Devotion

TW: Graphic depiction of violence.

--

Gus sat at one of the bar stools as he waited for David, who had walked off, telling Gus that he'd be right back.

The bar was dimly lit and intimate. Subtle, yellow lights were hanging low, lighting up the whole place just like Gus preferred. He liked in this place a lot. He would visit here often and was even familiar with some of the waiters.

He wasn't used to being with someone, though. Usually, he just drank alone and enjoyed the solitude.

Tonight, it was different. Sitting with David, the bartender, and admiring different types of red wines made it feel like a date.

Now that was a first, he thought as he straightened his grey jacket. First in a very long time - after Max's death. Murder, he corrected himself and clenched his hand in a fist.

Once again, for the billionth time in a single day, that afternoon flashed before him as he closed his eyes.

He and Max pleading the Salamancas and Don Eladio without caring about their own dignity. Begging them to start with the meth business instead of cocaine across the US - Mexico border, so they could have an exponential boost in the business.

When a difference in opinion erupted between them, Eladio ordered Hector Salamanca to kill Max, which he did. Right on the spot.

The gunshot sound still rang through Gus's ears even today. Vividly.

Hector's bullet entered Max's temple and exited through the other side of his skull and all Gus could do was sit and stare in horror.

Gus couldn't do anything to save his long-time lover and partner. Everything had happened in a heartbeat. Max was bleeding to death, his blood pouring from his skull into the swimming pool water like a fire hose.

Gus blinked rapidly as he remembered that he was forced to stare into Max's eyes as the light went out of them and he died. Eladio had tackled Gus to the ground and was pressing him against it, as he forced Gus to watch Max die near the swimming pool.

Gus came back to the present, took a deep breath and swallowed.

Gus had never dated anyone after Max. Not ever. From that day, he'd sworn he would kill every single person in the Salamanca cartel as revenge on Max's behalf. Max deserved it. Gus owed it to the ten years of history they'd had together as partners.

For that, Gus had decided to start his own thing with the meth business years ago. He'd started to run Los Pollos Hermanos too, on the side, as a cover to the meth business, initially. He had to take care of the fast food chain alone, unable to do it with Max as he'd planned.

Presently, fourteen years later, the meth business had turned into an empire, and he'd opened ten outlets of Los Pollos Hermanos in Albuquerque.

Gus placed his forearms on the platform in front of him and sighed.

He dreamed of the day when he wouldn't have to deal with Eladio as his authority anymore, and could be free from the Salamancas' prying eyes.

That's when he would kill them all in one go.

Hector Salamanca was the last person he was going to take out. Gus would like to torture him first, the same way Hector had, all those years ago.

For now, Gus decided that he was too busy in his life to invest his time in dating.

David was a nice guy, and Gus would have liked to know him better, but he thought that David shouldn't be involved in the criminal work. What if he ended up in a similar position as Max? Gus could never handle all that emotional turmoil the second time.

Also, his schedule didn't exactly allow him to go on dates regularly. It would only distract Gus from his aim and he simply couldn't afford that.

His devotion to Max's memory was too strong.

Gus turned around, still seated on the stool. "Would you let David know that I've been called away?" he asked Brett, one of the waitresses in the bar.

"Of course, Mr. Fring," she said with a smile.

"Have a good evening." Gus smiled back, albeit a bit tightly.

"Thank you." Brett walked off to make drinks for other patrons in the bar.

Gus got up to leave the place too, with only one person in his mind and heart: Maximino Arciniega. His Max.

*

Sherlock September Challenge by @onesmallfamily (since she said we could write about a different fandom too, according to the original post).

Tagging: @helloliriels , @lisbeth-kk , @topsyturvy-turtely , @gaylilsherlock , @keirgreeneyes , @missdeliadili , @a-victorian-girl , @clueless-mp4, @peanitbear , @lookingforlifeoutthere , @curlyjohnlock , @calaisreno, @gayfring , @brockcantillos , @thefirewithallthestrengthithath , @kettykika78 .

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

I'm giggeling like an idiot again. :DThe thing is, I think I'm not even laughing about Jeremy Brett but about poor David Stuart Davies. :D The poor man was fangirling hard.

(And btw, the first photo is GORGEOUS, I think I hadn't seen it before!)

Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes in Silver Blaze (Granada, Sherlock Holmes 1984)

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day one - stab wound

notes: hi friends and welcome to febwhump 2024 or sev whump as I've been calling it. that's right, 29 days where I hurt or torture everyone's favorite squad lieutenant!

read on AO3 or below

It was a calm night at Molly’s, something the members of Firehouse 51 desperately needed after the past few shifts they’d had. The first cold snap of the season had brought snow and ice along with it, causing multiple car accidents and house fires that made for hectic shifts.

The entirety of 51’s second shift, even Boden, had made it to Molly’s that night. They all wanted to relax with a beer or two before heading to their homes for two days of well-deserved rest. The only one who hadn’t made it to Molly’s yet was Kelly, who’d met at the Fire Academy with the other instructors. Stella expected him soon though, he’d texted her when he left the Academy and told her he was heading over.

The relaxing night everyone so desperately wanted was promptly ruined when the door to Molly’s burst open and a young woman, barely over 21, ran into the bar. Her hair was wild, and mascara-stained tear streaks painted her cheeks, but the most alarming thing to everyone in the room was the bright red blood staining her hands.

“Help, please!” She cried from the door. “Someone call 911!”

It was those magic words that made everyone jump into action. The members of 51 sprang to their feet and ran towards the girl. Brett and Violet reached her first, immediately followed by the others.

Brett and Violet started checking her for injuries. “What’s your name sweetie?” Violet asked.

“M-Meagan.”

“Hi Meagan,” Brett said with a smile, trying to calm the girl. “Can you tell us what happened? Where are you hurt?”

Meagan shook her head. “No no no, it’s not me. You have to help him!”

“Help who? What happened?” Stella asked.

“My friend, Ava, and I were walking home and one of the guys from the bar down the street was following us, harassing us. He grabbed Ava’s arm and started being aggressive with her. Then this other guy runs up, pulls him away, and stands in between us and him. He told him to leave but the guy pulled a knife and he just…. he stabbed him!” Meagan explained, a fresh round of tears running down her face. “Ava’s in nursing school, she started applying pressure but he needs help!”

Boden pulled the phone away from his ear, 911 dispatch still on the line. “CPD and an ambo are a few minutes out.”

“Let’s go,” Herrmann ordered. He grabbed the first aid kit from behind the bar and led the group out of Molly's and into the chilly Chicago night.

It didn't take them long at all to find what they were looking for. There on the ground, on the other side of the street, was their victim. The closer they got though, they realized their victim wasn’t just a good Samaritan who tried to help someone in need.

“Oh my god,” Stella exclaimed. “Kelly!”

Stella sprinted the last few feet and dropped to her knees by Kelly’s side. Her eyes roamed over his body and her stomach dropped. Stella had never been one to be squeamish but the sight of her husband’s blood pouring onto the sidewalk made bile rise in her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, Stella saw Ritter helping Ava up and Brett and Violet beginning to try and help Kelly but her focus was solely on Kelly. His eyes were glassy, and Stella could tell he was fighting to stay awake.

She moved closer to his head and laid a hand on his cheek, trying to keep his attention. “Hey, Kelly, stay awake ok?”

“Stell-“ Kelly started, quietly.

“Shhh, I’m right here,” Stella shushed him gently. “Don’t try and talk ok? Help’s on the way.”

“Girls?”

“They’re ok,” Stella said, a sad smile on her face. “You saved them.”

At Stella’s assurance that Ava and Meagan were safe, Kelly lost his hold on consciousness.

“No, no, no, Kelly!” Stella yelled, panicked. She tapped his cheek but Kelly didn’t respond.

Stella turned towards Brett and Violet, hoping for some reassurance, but the grim looks on their faces did the opposite. “What-?”

“The bleeding won’t stop,” Violet growled, frustrated. She tossed the bloodied gauze to the side, where a terrifying pile of soiled gauze had rapidly grown over the last few minutes.

Brett’s hands replaced Violet’s with fresh gauze, but it quickly began turning red. “I think the knife might have hit his spleen,” she said grimly.

“Where the hell is the ambulance?!” Stella cried.

“They’re pulling up now!” Cruz called from the street. He and the others from 51 had formed a barrier around their downed teammate and friend, keeping the curious masses away from the scene.

Sure enough, the street was soon bathed in sirens and flashing red and blue lights as the ambulance and a few CPD cruisers arrived. The paramedics made quick work getting Severide stable enough for transport. They loaded him into the ambulance, Stella climbing in right after. 

“Stella,” Boden called from the doors of the ambulance. “We’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we can.”

Stella gave a curt nod and turned her attention back to Kelly. Boden closed the ambulance doors and thumped it twice, signaling it was good to go.

The ambulance took off, lights and sirens blaring toward Med, leaving the shell-shocked group of first responders behind, drowning in a sea of red and blue and concern for their friend. 

… … …

It was barely controlled chaos in the ambulance. Stella had taken over applying pressure to the wound while the paramedic got Kelly hooked up to the monitors and an IV started.

No matter how much pressure Stella applied, or how much she begged and pleaded, the bleeding just wouldn’t stop. Her husband, the love of her life, was bleeding out right in front of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. This was not how their story was supposed to end–after everything they’d been through, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. 

Tears fell from Stella’s eyes. It’d been a while since she acted as a paramedic but the knowledge hadn’t left her. She knew Kelly had lost a lot of blood…was still losing a lot of blood. He needed surgery and transfusions and a hospital and he needed it fast but Stella knew there was no guarantee even that would be enough to save him. 

Her mental and emotional turmoil was interrupted by the paramedic taking over holding pressure on the wound with fresh gauze. 

Stella moved away towards Kelly’s head. She grabbed one of his hands, squeezed it, and leaned in close to him. “Don’t leave me, Kelly Severide. Don’t leave me.”

… … …

Stella had been alone in the waiting room for almost half an hour when the rest of 51 rolled in. They spotted Stella immediately and quickly hurried to her side. Brett and Violet, both now free of Severide’s blood, sat on either side of her and wrapped their arms around her.

“Any update?” Brett asked gently.

“They’re still working on him. Maggie said she’d update me as soon as she could.” Stella answered flatly. She was numb at this point. “Are Meagan and Ava ok?”

“PD took their statements and escorted them back to their apartments.” Boden shared, looking at Stella carefully. “Physically, they’ll both be fine. Mentally and emotionally, well…they’ve been connected with some resources to help them with that.”

Stella nodded. She understood that; they’d all be pretty messed up mentally and emotionally for a while. Seeing someone you love, a friend and teammate, bleeding out on the pavement will do that. 

“What about the asshole who did this?” 

“Cameras in the area caught the harassment and the stabbing, along with the guy’s face.” Mouch chimed in. “The officers on scene are looking for him and Trudy called Voight, so now Intelligence is involved as well. They’ll get him.”

Nodding, Stella went to say something else before jumping out of her seat at the sight of Maggie entering the waiting room.

“How is he?” Stella asked desperately. 

“Dr. Marcel took him into surgery a few minutes ago. Scans confirmed the knife hit his spleen,” Maggie explained gently. It was always hard when a first responder was hurt but the entire Med team had soft spots for the firefighters of Firehouse 51. “He’ll be in surgery for a few hours. If you want to move up to the surgical waiting room, I’ll have someone keep you updated.”

“Thanks Maggie.”

 … … …

It was several hours later, long past midnight, when Stella and the others got the news they had been desperately waiting to hear: Severide was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. 

Dr. Marcel had been able to save his spleen but they’d be keeping a close eye on Kelly in the ICU for a few days to make sure no more bleeding occurred. Kelly also had to have several blood transfusions, so he’d be weaker than normal as his body recuperated. 

He’d be off work for a while and would need PT and a lot of rest but he would heal. 

Everyone in the waiting room was relieved, the stress of the night falling off of them. Stella once again had tears streaming down her face only this time, they were tears of joy. 

“Thank you, Dr. Marcel.”

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Marcel said. He hugged Stella briefly then stepped back. “He’s in recovery now but they’ll be moving him to a room soon. Visiting hours are over but we’ll make it so you guys can see him for a minute. Stella, you’ll be able to stay overnight with him but the rest of you should go home and get some sleep.”

There were nods all around. After years as first responders, they were all seasoned pros regarding hospital and visitation guidelines. They were all just grateful they’d be able to see Severide.

Stella was thankful she was automatically given the green light to stay with Kelly in the ICU. She was prepared to do whatever it took to stay with her husband, hospital rules and visiting hours be damned.

… … …

It was a quiet night in Kelly’s ICU room. After seeing Kelly and saying goodbye to Stella, the other members of 51 headed home with the promise of returning later that day. Stella had settled into the chair by Kelly’s bed, grabbed his hand, and waited for him to wake up.

She ended up falling into a fitful sleep, the uncomfortable chair and constant interruptions from medical staff coming in to check on Kelly keeping her from getting more than an hour or so at a time. It certainly didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, she saw her husband bleeding out in agonizing detail.

Those images were why she forced herself to stay awake, downing cups of crappy hospital coffee to try and avoid that nightmare as long as she could. She’d lived through it once; she didn’t want to experience it again. 

It was, however, because of that very real nightmare and the fear and anxiety surrounding it, that Stella was wide awake when Kelly started moving the hand she was holding.

“Kelly?” Stella’s voice was gentle, but the emotion still rang clear. She stood from her chair to be closer to the bed, still gripping his hand. “You with me?”

The wait seemed painfully slow but eventually Stella was rewarded with the sight of Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes. Stella smiled her first real smile in hours as happy tears filled her eyes. She moved her free hand up to Kelly’s cheek. “There you are. How do you feel?”

Still groggy from a combination of blood loss, anesthesia-induced sleep, and pain meds, all Kelly could do was groan in response to Stella, making her chuckle. “That well, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kelly grumbled, his voice thick from being unused. Stella quickly poured him a cup of water and held the straw to his lips so he could drink. After a few sips, Stella took the cup away to keep him from overdoing it. “Meagan and Ava. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, babe. You saved them.” Stella tried to keep her voice from cracking but the longer she looked at Kelly she was reminded of what had happened and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “You scared the hell out of me. Seeing you like that I thought…. I thought I was going to lose you.”

There wasn’t much Kelly could say because he knew how close he’d come to dying, to leaving Stella behind. Telling her he was okay wasn’t the best bet, given how horrible he felt, so he went in a different direction. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just, I saw that asshole messing with Meagan and Ava and I knew I had to do something. I just thought he was drunk… I didn’t think he’d have a knife.”

“I know.” Stella squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man Kelly Severide and I love you so much but please, don’t get stabbed again.”

“I will try my hardest not to,” Kelly chuckled, but it was quickly cut off by a groan.

Stella rubbed his arm soothingly and hit the call button on the wall behind his bed. He’d been awake long enough without a nurse or doctor coming in to check on him and it was clear to Stella that he needed some pain meds whether he said so or not. She could see it in his eyes.

It didn’t take long for a nurse to enter the room and Dr. Marcel followed soon after. He was pleased with what the monitors were showing and how Kelly’s incision looked. Dr. Marcel wasn’t ready to move him out of the ICU just yet, but things were looking promising. They hooked Kelly up to a pain pump so he could give himself a bolus of pain meds when he needed it.

With pain meds on board, Kelly fell back asleep quickly. Now that she wasn’t crippled with worry, Stella felt lighter. There was still fear and anxiety lurking in the shadows and she was sure the memories of last night would stay with them both for a long time, but Kelly would be okay and they would deal with it together. 

[kaijuboarcreations]

Maybe I'm just talking to the wind here but now that the Bvz tag is blowing up to unexpected proportions I want to put my two cents out there for a couple of things. Also spoilers are a big part of this so read at your own risk.

The fact that Barok is racist is an obvious character flaw and not a good thing clearly. It is never stated to be a good thing, it was never put in place as a way to try to justify racism. Why would a Japanese team make a game with a Japanese protag and try to paint racism against Japanese people as a good thing? They also wrote Barok to be an adversary and in many ways esp in game one he plays the role as the xenophobic British empire itself trying to beat down a foreigner. But that being said he is still his own character and that becomes more clear in game two. There's no shortage of racism for racism's sake in the games. Several witnesses and perpetrators like Asa Shin/Jezale Brett, are racist because they live in a society that perpetuates the idea that the British Empire is above the rest of the world.

So let's look back at Barok. As we find out, he was raised in a household were likely his first interaction with any Japanese person on a personal level was in the form of Genshin, who was his older brother's friend and colleague. He looked up to his brother and consequently looked up to Genshin until the Professor situation came about. Obviously we learn that the trauma that Barok experienced at the loss of his brother was not really Genshin's fault (but you know vigilantism may not have been the best answer to the situation he and Klint found themselves in) and obviously it was not the fault of the Japanese populous as a whole. Trauma can make you do shitty things. Does it justify them. Absolutely the fuck not. Even if Genshin was the Professor and Klint was an innocent victim it still would justify nothing. That being said, grief has a way of creating irrational emotional connections to certain things and given that Barok lived in a time where mental health surrounding grief and depression were either never addressed or landed you in a facility were they basically tried to torture the sad out of you meant there was no way for him to get assistance in breaking out of his emotional cycle. Place on top of that, he would have been surrounded by people in British society who would have validated his racism, and now he has an easy scapegoat for his grief. Does that mean it's ok. Again of course not. Even van Zieks himself admits to that.

If van Zieks racism prevents you from enjoying him as a character, no judgement at all. But if you think anyone who likes him is some kind of racism apologist, that just seems like a very unfair judgment.

For one thing he is a fictional character. Liking a character who does bad things is not a reflection on someone's moral compass.

On top of that everything i said above about van Zieks comes down to a very important conclusion, and one that has led me through the transition of hating him with a burning passion to coming to love him. By the end of GAAC he absolutely can and seems to want to get better. Even in the last case where he admits to himself and Ryunosuke that his racist comments are unawarented, wrong, and unfair... that's progress. Even if its miniscule. All Barok wants is the closure he never got and by the end of the last case he has it and can begin his road to recovery. One which Kazuma of all people is willing to stand by him for. You can see through the course of the second game that he makes fewer hits at Ryunosuke's race (simply referring to him as "learned friend"). He intends to make progress. He was not always racist and he doesn't have to be for the rest of his life. Doesn't mean it was ok for him to be and that he shouldn't apologize and make up for his actions. It doesn't mean that anyone is required to forgive him either. But liking a character for intending to make progress doesn't make someone a bad person or apologist. Id argue it's the opposite. As I said I hated Barok for a good chunk of game play and maybe him not having the chance to do a whole lot to make up for himself in game isn't enough by some standards but at the end of the day it was Ryunosuke's story not his, and it seems the writers were intent to say Barok's story goes on from here and the end of Ryunosuke's exploits in London are marking a new beginning for Barok in which we as the player can read into in our own way. Because I highly doubt we'll be getting a spinoff of a spinoff featuring the man. Maybe I'm just an optimist who wants to see the best in this particular character idk.

[devilsupdates]

Update Time

Defensemen Simon Nemec and Daniil misyul are out tonight for the Devils against Red Wings

Jacob Markstrom leads the Devils onto the ice for warmups in Detroit. He's your starter tonight against the Red Wings. Jake Allen is backup

Here is tonight's lineup

Meier - hischier - Mercer

Palat - Hughes - Bratt

Cotter - haula - Noesen

Tatar - lazar - bastian

Dillion - Hamilton

Siegenthaler - kovacevic

Hughes - Pesce

Markstrom

Allen

Luke Hughes and Pesce are in, Nemec and misyul are out. Everything else stays the same.

My best guess in we will see Luke Hughes on PP2 tonight. Seamus Casey first held the spot, then Simon Nemec. Luke seems the obvious choice while keeping PP1 together

The Devils powerplay has been pretty solid ( 25% - 10th in NHL) and feels like they're still working out some kinks. With Dougie on PP1 and Hughes on PP2 wonder if they'll go on another great run like early last season

Starters

Meier- Hischier - Mercer

Siegenthaler - kovacevic

Markstrom

Puck drop in Detroit

Period 1

Timo just fell awkwardly on the ice and took a second to get up. He skated gingerly back to the bench but is being looked at by a trainer. Weird play, didn't see anything really happen there. Staying on bench for now

First shift for lake Hughes and Brett Pesce this season

Meier seems okay, taking his next shift

Talbot has had to be real sharp early on. Devils with a good start here

So far. The Devils have had much better breakouts. Which is allowing them to play far more in the offensive zone. They are getting them to the perimeters.

Devils going to get the first power play of the game. A penalty drawn by a board battle by Paul cotter. Markstrom to the bench

Seider will go to the box for the Red Wings and Devils deploy PP1 to start

1-0 Devils! Nico goal!

Jesper Bratt with the lone assist on the Devils power play goal by Nico Hischier. That's his 9th point in his 10th game of the year

Devils have scored first in each of their last six games. Major difference from last season su far

Luke can thank Markstrom for bailing him out after that turnover. The sophomore is shaking off the rust

Pesce hits the ice for his first shift on the penalty kill.

Tie game. Detroit ties it 1-1

2-1 Red Wings

DeBrincat wires one from far out on Markstrom

This is really unfortunate. Turnof events. The Devils have been playing such a strong first period

End of one.

Devils trail the red wings 2-1

Hischier (Bratt)

Fischer ( copp )

DeBrincat

Shots: 18 -8 NJ

Notes after first period:

To make matters worse, the Devils were called for too many men as the period expired. Now they'll have to start the second period with A two minutes pk against a lethal Red Wings PP

Period 2

Puck drops

Brenden Dillon nearly scores off a shorthanded rush. Dawson Mercer with a nice feed there. He had no angle to shoot at Dillon did.

Tartar out of the box

Jack tried the goal line goal. Save, Talbot

Paul cotter just caught an elbow right to the face. He goes down on the ice and a training heads out to help. Quite a bit of blood on the ice.

Paul cotter to the locker room for repairs. Lots of blood

Devils power play!

Nico wires the puck Off the cross bar

Cotter back on the bench

Tie game! Erik haula in this 700 Th NHL game

Kane off for roughing

Another Devils power play coming up they're 2 for 2 so far tonight

Luke Hughes earns his first assist of the season on the Erik haula power play goal. Goal reads haula from Meier and Luke Hughes.

Brett Pesce just played a Red Wings 3- on - 1 with so much confidence and calmness. Read the play perfectly and cut off the cross ice pass

Nico Hischier (7) and Dougie Hamilton ( 5) have combined for 12 of the Devils 30 shots on net

Red Wings have 16 shots

It would be in the Devils best interest to slow this game down

End of two.

Were all evened up at twos.

1. Hischier (Bratt )

1. Fischer (copp )

1. DeBrincat

2. Haula ( Meier. L. Hughes )

Shots: 31 -16 NJ

Period 3

Puck drops

The Devils will need to shutdown Detroit's top line to have the best chance at a victory

The Devils need to find A way to beat Talbot

Brenden Dillon is hit hard into the boards. He stays there for a minute before bouncing up and dropping the gloves with Christian Fischer who had just laid him into the boards

Both will go to the penalty box. But we will see if there's any other call on the play. Nico is waiting patiently by the refs. All that while Fischer and Dillon are yelling at each other

Should've been boarding, dangerous hit from Fischer on Dillon but no call

Red Wings 3-2 Devils trail by 1

Devils have every right to be irate there. After the goal Keefe continued to berate the officiating crew

Devils Power play coming up. Big moment here.

Once again Nico doing everything.

Kovacovic joins Dillon and Meier in there sin bin

Nico scores! 3.3

Dawson takes a penalty with 3:54 to play

Red Wings 4-3 Devils behind by one

Cotter draws a penalty Devils to powerplay

2:37 to go score is 3-4 Red Wings

Final score 5-3 redwings

[florxdexcerezos]

Brett withdrew into himself, unwilling now to speak lest he say something stupid again. He had been granted mercy from a call out once. He didn't think he would be so lucky a second time. He thought he had gotten better about his attachments, that through work he put in, he wouldn't fuck something up; that he would be perfect, what anyone could ever want. Guess it wasn't enough.

He couldn't articulate how that there was little to actually celebrate. That in pursuing a goal he initially chose to please someone else, he was moving away from all his familiarities. He would learn to love it in time of course, much like he had done New York and even rugby itself. But it meant leaving the one person he had actually loved behind. Even then, his love didn't matter, she didn't want him. He was crushed.

"A couple of weeks. The club has arranged for accomodation for a while until I'm able to get something myself. But I need to start looking anyway. I haven't told anyone else yet." He didn't explain that there weren't many people to actually tell. Outside of his team, the only ones he could class as friends were Olly and Lucien. Even then, he supposed they weren't even his friends. They were Liz's, and they only really knew him from the book.

His mom, of course, would find out. Maybe his step siblings if they picked up his call. Unlikely. That was it. His entire adult life had been crafted around being self-suficient, not needing anyone to do anything for him. Being able to exist solely for his own joy.

Then Elizabeth came along and ruined it all.

"We don't need to do anything special for it." He'd still come back after all. No point celebrating that. Putting on celebrations always put people out anyway. The effort was wasted on someone like him who didn't even want it.

"Besides, I'm behnd schedule on packing up my apartment." It was going to be even further behind now, after a brief interruption for moping and ratifying the declaration that he is unlovable. "I should probably get going. Good luck on the book. It'll do great, you have nothing to worry about."

The look on his face made her heart hurt, her stomach hurt, every part of her hurt. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him to her. To tell him that despite the boundaries they had set that she did want him around, that she wanted nothing more than to be like the girls in books she wrote and read, to throw caution to the wind and follow him. Or beg him to stay. But she had seen through her father what good that did, love was never enough.

His words made her eyes begin to well up, tears making her hazel eyes appear more caramel colored. She was so close to caving, so close to saying fuck it to everything. That if Lucius and Olly could find love, than maybe she should give it a try. Especially with someone like Brett. But then for the first time in her life, she felt her heart break. Shatter with how he changed, agreed with her. Wasn't that what she wanted? For him to see the reason to it? Why did it hurt that he had?

This just proved that she needed to stick to writing love stories. She needed to stop pretending that she could be the main character in one. Her father had shown her, that love was never enough. There was always something else, someone else, maybe it was a curse placed on his father's lineage. Whatever it was, she knew that this was the right move for them. It was better to try to be friends, some semblance of it, instead of hating each other later.

Nodding, she stared down at her feet for a moment willing back the tears and clearing the lump in her throat before looking back up at him. ❝ Yeah, ❞ came out meekly. ❝ So when do you leave? Maybe we could all celebrate before you go? Have you told Lucy or Olly? They'll be very excited for you. ❞

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski, Brett Talbot, Tracy Stewart, Mason Hewitt, Josh Diaz, Hayden Romero, Corey Bryant

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, mind games, hurt/comfort, feral behavior, implied sexual content

Words: 7656

Ao3 link Masterlist

The Soulmate Train

---

In the town of Beacon Hills, everyone knows the story of The Soulmate Train. A magical train that will take you to your soulmate in the middle of the night. Not every single person in the world gets to board and there doesn't seem to be any type of pattern to those that are chosen either. It's just known that the morning of your nineteenth birthday, you either get a ticket or you don't. 

Simple as that.

For a vast majority of the people who board the train, they're never heard from again. At first glance, knowing this information would scare most people into not using their ticket. Kind of ominous to get on a mythical train and then disappear for good. There was once a rumor that it was taking people just to feed some supernatural creature. A theory quickly disproved when Lydia Martin hopped on the train only to arrive back in Beacon Hills at Jackson Whittemore's house. So clearly they're not being served for dinner, their soulmate just lives somewhere else. 

On the days leading up to his birthday, Stiles wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, he didn't want to leave his father all alone. But on the other hand, after everything he's gone through- Scott getting bit, the Nogitsune, the Deadpool, and all of the shit with the Dread Doctors and the confusion of Theo- maybe leaving wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. Maybe he'd even be lucky like Lydia and come right back here. 

That's if Stiles gets a ticket in the first place. 

Until the morning of his birthday that is and he's woken up by Scott bursting into his room shouting about something his asleep brain couldn't comprehend. He glares at the wolf from under his covers. 

"Scott," his father sighs, clutching his mug of coffee, "I thought we talked about running through a cop's house screaming. How it's a good way to have a gun get pulled on you?" 

"Sorry," the Alpha says offhandedly. "Stiles, you need to get up," Scott yanks the blankets off. 

Stiles dramatically groans, sitting up in bed. That's as good as his best friend is going to get right now. If he had it his way, he’d be going right back to sleep. "Good morning to you too, Scotty," he grumbles. 

"Happy birthday, kiddo," his father commiserates with a soft smile. 

"Thanks, dad. But a good point. Why am I not allowed to sleep in on my birthday?" Stiles asks, stretching life back into his limbs. 

"Because," the Alpha holds up an envelope, "you got a ticket for The Soulmate Train!" 

Scott is much more excited about the development than he is. To be fair, if Stiles had a chance to wake up first, he'd probably be more enthusiastic. 

"Let me see that," his father takes it from the wolf, "it could just be a birthday card."

"That's true, my Nona always sends me a card." 

Scott deadpans, "and the mailman left it on your doorstep instead of your mailbox. Two hours before the truck even comes around. Yeah, sure." 

"Good to see you're getting better at sarcasm, Scotty," Stiles scratches his head, waiting for his father's verdict. 

"Holy shit," his dad gasps, pulling a silver ticket out of the envelope. 

In a flash, Stiles is at the edge of his bed, snatching the item from his father along with the small note card. In bold letters on the shiny ticket reads: ADMIT ONE, Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski.

"Holy shit," he mimics his dad. "I got a ticket," Stiles mutters in disbelief. It's not that he didn't think he was worthy of a soulmate or anything like that. More so than cool, good things like this typically don't happen to him.

It's just surprising is all. 

Scott shakes him out of his staring at the silver paper, asking, "what does the card say?" 

"Right. Uh," Stiles' eyes flicker over the extra paper, reading its contents aloud. 

One-way ticket ONLY! 

NO REFUNDS, REDOS, OR RESCHEDULES!

You may refuse to board, should you wish, but you will not receive another ticket.

On the next moonless night, The Soulmate Express will pick you up outside your residence at 4:45 a.m. sharp.

DO NOT be late!

You are allowed one bag of essentials only.

Have your ticket ready for the conductor or you will be denied boarding.

We look forward to seeing you.

"The next moonless night?" Stiles repeats. "When the hell is that?" 

"Tonight," Scott answers without missing a beat. 

What the-

"Werewolf thing?" His father asks. 

Fairly asked too. Stiles loves his best friend, but he was failing every class not that long ago. If he wasn’t so worried about Liam for a time, Stiles wouldn’t even know when the full moon is.

"I always know the phases of the moon ever since I became one," Scott agrees. "There was the smallest sliver last night, so tonight will be the closest to empty it can get." 

He'd be lying if Stiles said that didn't make him incredibly anxious. He thought he'd have more than sixteen hours before the train arrived. Lydia had a whole week! Now Stiles is torn between going to sleep or not. Because if he's being picked up before five in the morning, Stiles is up far too early for that. But there's also the fact that it's coming for him tonight. These are the last sixteen hours he has to see his father and best friend. 

Stiles doesn't want to lose that precious time sleeping. 

"Well," his father cuts through his mental spiral, "looks like you get to meet your soulmate soon. That's exciting, right?" 

He scoffs lightly, "not like you can prepare me for what's about to happen. You refused your ticket because you were madly in love with mom," Stiles reminds his dad. 

"A decision I still stand by," Noah counters. "But you're not emotionally tied to anybody, son. And don't say us, we're only a phone call away and you know it. Besides," his father waves a dismissive hand, "you've got Melissa on my case about eating right too. I'll be fine." 

"Your dad's right," Scott adds. The wolf gives him the best puppy dog grin, "you deserve to be happy after- well, it's a long list, but you know which I mean." 

Yeah, Stiles knows what he means and he doesn’t want to think about it right now. 

His dad joins them on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "you can always say no. We'll stand by whatever choice you make." 

"We'll even see you off if you go," the Alpha smiles.

Stiles leans into their embrace, "Thanks guys." 

"I love you, son," his dad kisses the side of his head before getting up. "Now, who wants French toast?" 

Stiles and Scott can't clamber out of bed fast enough. 

"Are you all packed?" His dad leans on the doorframe after they had pie. 

He's never been a fan of cakes. So every year for his birthday, Stiles requests a pie instead. Melissa made it this year, raspberry peach. It was fucking amazing. He's going to have to remember that for a future time. A small token to remind Stiles where he came from. The people who cared about him before he had a soulmate. 

Stiles puts the last hoodie- that has a small framed photo of him and his parents wrapped inside- in the one bag he's allowed to bring with him. "Yeah, I'm all set," he says, going through his mental list. "I think."

"Phone? Charger?" His father asks and Stiles nods. "Toothbrush and other toiletries?" Stiles nods again. "I see you're wearing your favorite hoodie already-" It's actually his dad's from the police academy, "-you have clothes in there too?" 

The laugh that bubbles out of his chest is unavoidable. Just a naturally good feeling of his father taking care of him and making sure Stiles didn't panic pack a bunch of socks. 

Again. 

"Yes," he chuckles, "and yes, I have underwear too. I'll be okay." 

"I'm proud of you, Stiles," his father's eyes fill with tears, growing bloodshot. "You made a decision for yourself for once without thinking about anyone else. Just been a long time since I've seen you do that." 

Stiles snorts, "I literally worried about you and Scott the second I looked at the ticket." 

His father drags him into a hug, "but you stopped and that's the point. You finally thought of yourself." His dad sniffles and Stiles squeezes tighter, his own emotions making themselves known. "Your mom would be proud of you too. Overjoyed that you have someone out there that's made for you. Let me look at you," he pulls back with a soft smile, "I don't care where you end up, you'll always have me." 

"Just a phone call away, right?" Stiles' voice cracks. 

"You're goddamn right." His dad ruffles his hair, "think you're going to be able to get some sleep at all?"

"No," Stiles scoffs lightly, "probably not." 

His father nods in understanding, patting his shoulder before leaving. 

"Come on, kiddo," his father gently shakes him awake. "It's four-thirty, you gotta go." 

Despite the gentle nature and soft voice his dad used to get him up, Stiles jolts awake. He doesn't even remember falling asleep. Last he knew, he was playing a video game with Scott- who's now also passed out in bed beside him. They were talking and laughing. Having one last night together. It was nice.

Stiles is going to miss it.

"Okay," he grunts, sleep still thick in his vocal chords. "I'm up," Stiles blinks purposefully, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes so that can focus on what's right in front of him. He yawns, "thanks." 

"There's a cup of coffee downstairs with your name on it," Noah smiles. "I'll grab your bag and get Scott moving." 

Not as awake as he's like to be, Stiles simply nods in response. Sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of his bed to put on his shoes, Stiles' legs feel like lead. Thick, heavy things attached to his body that drag him out of his room and down the stairs. The scent of coffee hits Stiles' nostrils and he groans, finding Melissa in the kitchen with a mug of her own. 

"Morning," she smiles brightly, filling an empty mug and passing it to him. He mutters his thanks, pointedly ignoring how scalding the liquid is, and nearly chugging it. Melissa asks, "are you excited?"

Honestly, Stiles thinks he might throw up. He doesn't have the slightest idea of what to expect. As soon as Lydia arrived back in Beacon Hills, her and Jackson left to go back to London. He'd only come back to celebrate her birthday just to find out they're soulmates. He didn't want to ruin their honeymoon phase. So as much as Stiles misses the banshee, he thought it best not to badger her with a million and one questions about her experience. 

With that said, it wouldn't exactly be truthful to say that he isn't excited. Knowing that there's someone out there specially made for him. Someone who is built to love and tolerate him. That's what most people want in life. 

"I think so," Stiles answers honestly, pouring another cup as his dad and Scott come down the steps. 

He's never seen the Alpha be much of a morning person. Especially before the sun has even risen type of morning. Yet here Scott is, smiling brightly like they didn't sleep for only three hours at the most. "Dude," the wolf's eyes bulge looking at the stove, "you gotta go!"

"Shit." Stiles hastily puts his mug in the sink. His best friend is right, he's got three minutes. "Where's my ticket?" He asks, patting his pockets. 

"Here," Melissa pulls the silver paper from her scrubs. "We figured you'd lose it, so I kept it safe for you." 

"Thank you," Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, taking the ticket and pulling his pseudo-mother into a tight hug. Never once has Melissa tried to replace his mom. But the woman is the closest thing Stiles has had to one since his own passed away. He loves Melissa dearly.

"I'm happy for you, sweetheart," she pulls back with watery eyes. "Call us, please? Let us know you're safe." 

Scott starts dragging him away before he can answer. "Come on," the wolf says, "you're going to miss it! We can say goodbye outside."

Ticket in hand and his belongings with his father, Stiles allows the wolf to pull him. When they get outside of his house, there's softly glowing blue train tracks in the street. 

"Whoa," Stiles stares, jaw dropped. "That's crazy." Scott yanks him into a hug, nearly crushing him. The human doesn't even care about the supernatural strength being used. This could be the last time he ever sees the wolf. "I'm gonna miss you too, buddy," Stiles claps the Alpha’s back and a loud whistle blows. 

"Alright, Scott," his father has to pry them apart, "let me say goodbye to my son." 

The train gets louder the closer it approaches. It's engine rumbling the ground when he takes his bag. 

"I want you to understand something," his father grips both of his shoulders, parental tone in full swing. "I don't care where you go or who your soulmate may be. If you don't feel safe, you call me. I'm still a sheriff, but I can make it look like an accident. You hear me?"

Stiles' eyes well up with tears, but he refuses to cry. "I love you too, dad," he says, knowing that's exactly what that speech meant. 

The train squeals to a stop, a voice yelling, "all aboard the Soulmate Express! Have your ticket ready!" 

The deep breath he takes does nothing to calm his nerves, but it's now or never. Stiles turns to face the massive, black train with glowing blue accents that match the track. Beautiful gold letters spell the name Soulmate Train on the side. Smoke billows from the front car and into the night sky, disappearing like it never disrupted the air in the first place. 

Ticket in hand, Stiles approaches the small set of steps below the conductor. He's younger than expected. Around his age with light brown curls spilling from his hat. Taller than him too.

"Ticket, please?" 

Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Stiles hands the man his ticket. The conductor punches three holes close together, making a triangle in the silver paper. 

"My name is Isaac," he says, handing the ticket back. "I'm the conductor of this locomotive, here to ensure your journey is safe and easy. Are you ready to go?" 

"Yeah, I'm good." 

Isaac gives him a small bow, extending his arm for Stiles to climb aboard, "after you, Mr. Stilinski." 

"Please, just Stiles," he says, climbing the three stairs up onto the train. He enters through the car's open door and when Isaac joins him, it closes on its own. Stiles can't decide if that's normal or foreboding; he's never been on a train before. 

Either way, no turning back now. 

"Your seat is right here," Isaac says when they're halfway through. "You may have the blinds open to wave goodbye, but once we get moving I must ask that you close them and that they remain closed." 

"O-okay," Stiles says, sitting in the plush, red booth and placing his bag beside him. He looks out the window at his family, noticing the faint glow surrounding the glass. "Why can't I have the blinds open?" 

"Do you mind?" Isaac points to the empty booth on the other side of his table. Stiles shakes his head no, gesturing for the conductor to join him. "We have but two rules on the Soulmate Express; that being one of them. Once we depart, I will explain the other to you." He checks his gold pocket watch, "just another minute. I'd say goodbye, Stiles." 

He looks out the window again, waving goodbye just as the whistle blows for their departure. Melissa offers a blown kiss, holding onto Scott whose face is a bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness while waving. His father gives him an earnest smile, waving goodbye when the train begins to move. Not wanting to get in trouble or kicked off, Stiles adheres to the instructions and pulls the blinds down. 

"Thank you," Isaac smiles, "I don't wish to scare you, but it is for your safety that the blinds remain closed for the duration of the trip. Of the few rules we have, it's the most important one." 

"But why?" Stiles doesn't understand the importance of not looking out a window. It's his favorite part of taking an airplane. 

The conductor clasps his hands on the tabletop, "what do you know about the train?" 

"Just that it takes a select few to their soulmate."

"Correct, that is our base function," Isaac says and the train really starts moving. "I assume you know about the supernatural, yes?" Stiles nods. "Great. We run on most supernatural laws. Time moves differently when you're here though. A ride that feels like hours could only be a handful of human minutes. Traveling through worlds, time, space, and even different dimensions or universes over the course of a single trip." 

Stiles’ jaw drops, “holy shit. That’s more of the supernatural than I’ve encountered,” he admits.

“It is for most people who board from earth,” the conductor explains. “Being best friends with a werewolf, you yourself have seen more than most would in their lifetime.”

“Okay, but why the blinds?”

“As I mentioned, we move incredibly fast but seemingly slow to those we pass,” Isaac states. His mouth purses, searching for something, “not everything we pass is kind. Or safe,” he tacks on. “If you open the blinds and make your presence known, I cannot stop whatever is out there from claiming you- or your soul- for themselves.”

“My soul?” He parrots back. This is not what he signed up for.

At all. 

The conductor’s smile dims, “I’m sure you understand that you’re not the first person we’ve picked up. Just like I’m sure you’re also more than aware of the fact that not every supernatural creature is friendly either.”

Stiles scoffs, “yeah, I’m aware.” He’s seen more than a fair share of bad supernaturals. Hell, he used to be one. Or possessed by it at the very least. 

“The rule is in place because most of the- let's call them dens for lack of a better term that we pass on the way is home to plenty of monsters that would love nothing more than to eat an unmated soul. Much like yourself,” Isaac informs him. “Others have become beasts because they didn’t abide by the no looking rule or were kicked off for upsetting my crew.”

This is a lot to swallow. 

“Remind me not to get on their bad side.”

Isaac smiles again, “just be polite and don’t bring up the fact that you’re going to find the love of your life and you’ll be just fine.”

“But,” Stiles crosses his arms, cocking his head to the side, “isn’t that the whole reason I’m here?”

“Yes,” the conductor agrees, “but so were they once upon a time.” 

“They didn’t-”

Isaac shakes his head, “we rejected our soulmates and now we’re destined to be on this train forever.” 

“That’s kind of depressing,” Stiles comments. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that has to be incredibly lonely.” What could have possibly happened that someone refused their soulmate? Other than circumstances like his father. But his dad never boarded in the first place. 

“We’re lonely, yes. But I quite enjoy watching others find the other half of themselves.” Isaac grins, “it’s why I can hear it all the time without going into a…state.”

He’s not so sure he wants an elaboration on that. 

In fact, he doesn’t.

“So how do I avoid upsetting them?” 

“I’ve found it’s best to talk about them,” the conductor says. “If you want, ask them about their life, their interests. Things like that.” Isaac regards him with an expression he can’t quite place, “I honestly think they just enjoy someone who’s willing to know them. Not everyone we pick up is kind. Or smart,” he winks. 

Stiles hums. Part in acknowledgement and part in contemplation. He wants to know more, but this is already a lot more than he was prepared for. Monsters attracted to the light and what’s essentially a cursed crew. This isn’t just a simple ride; supernatural or not. 

“Ask your questions, Stiles,” Isaac chuckles, “I can see them swimming in your eyes.”

“Are those the only rules?” Stiles figures that’s a good place to start. “Keep the blinds closed and don’t upset the crew?” Isaac nods in agreement. “Okay,” he says dumbly to fill the space while his gears turn. “Simple enough, I suppose. So, you’ve been on the train as a passenger, am I allowed to ask you what to expect from the trip? Other than vengeful creatures and monsters that would like to eat me and my soul?”

“I can tell you anything you want to know. Perhaps over a cup of tea or coffee?” Isaac offers. 

“Coffee would be great. Tea would just put me to sleep and I’d like to reach my destination,” Stiles says. He’s also still fairly tired from what little sleep he got. Caffeine would be wonderful right now. 

“I’ll go let them know,” the conductor gets up from his seat. He pauses with his fingers still on the table, “you should know. We’re about to pass through the Fog of Whispers. It’s unfortunately an unavoidable part of the journey.” Isaac warns him, “no matter what you hear, do not open the blinds under any circumstances. The voices you hear are meant to lure you, to scare you. Do your best to ignore them as they only last for a few minutes. Try to think of it like a book being read out loud to you. Not something you’re meant to look at, only hear. And please-”

“Leave the blinds closed,” Stiles finishes.

“I was going to say be stronger than your mind,” Isaac says. “But I’m glad you’re catching on so quickly. I’ll be right back.” He pauses, rapping his knuckles on the table, “I believe in you, Stiles.” 

He watches the conductor head for the door. Except this time, it doesn’t open automatically. Isaac simply walks through it as though it’s not even there. Stiles’ eyes threaten to pop out of his skull. He sat in the booth. He took Stiles’ ticket! Is Isaac technically a ghost?

For lack of natural light, the ornate sconces provide enough that he’s not sitting in the dark. The candles inside them give the train car a warm and comforting glow despite him being the only person here. And everything he’s been told. He should have brought a book. With Isaac gone, he’s bored as hell.

“Stiles,” a gritty voice calls his name from far away. A voice that sends a violent chill down his spine. Churning bile in his stomach and raising the hair on the back of his neck. “I know you hear me, Stiles,” it says again. A gravelly tone Stiles never thought he’d hear again. “Look at me!”

The Nogitsune.

Its command is almost enough to make Stiles open the blinds on instinct. His hand reaches halfway and he pauses. No. He can’t do this. One, he wants to live. Two, Stiles would actually like to meet his soulmate. And three, as great company as Isaac is, he wants off this train eventually.

“You? Have a soulmate? Ha!” The Nogitsune growls, “you’re too broken to have a soulmate. I made sure of that. No one is going to want the used up vessel of mine. Don’t you know that? I ruined you,” it cackles cruelly. 

“You’re not real,” Stiles repeats to himself. He balls his fists so tightly that the knuckles turn white, nails branding crescent moons into his palms. 

“Not real? Not real?!” The Nogitsune sneers, voice twisting. Warping into another’s. “What about me, Sweetheart?” He growls the name. “Am I real?” No. No, no, no, no. “Or did I cease to exist after I got sent to hell because you couldn’t be a big boy and admit your feelings for me?”

“No,” Stiles chokes on the word, putting his forehead on the table and covering his ears. “You’re not there, Theo. This isn’t real. You’re gone,” he cries.

But it doesn’t make a difference. 

The Whispers are in his head.

“Just like your feelings weren’t?” Theo barks a laugh, “or were you just too scared to admit that you fell for the bad guy?”

“I didn’t- I never-” Stiles rocks in his seat, powering through the urge to open the window and prove that the chimera isn’t really there. “Of course I fell for you,” his voice shakes, “it was inevitable.” 

“Bullshit,” Theo spits, “you never loved me. You just let them kill me and did nothing! I bet you were happy when I died.”

Stiles sobs, “no. That’s not true, Theo. I told Scott it was a bad idea.”

“Liar!”

In truth, the minute Theo stepped out of the rain that first night, Stiles was gone. He never stood a chance. But then there was the inescapable feeling that something just wasn’t right. That Theo wasn’t actually Theo and it had nothing to do with him being a supernatural creature. That this wasn’t the same boy that shared his peanut butter cups after punching Jackson in the face for bullying him. But that also didn’t stop Stiles’ heart from screaming for Theo whenever he was around. That night on the hospital roof, his control slipped for the smallest of moments. 

Stiles let Theo kiss him.

Again too when they watched over Josh’s body. 

Then just when Stiles was ready to say fuck it and admit to- submit to what his heart truly wanted, the other shoe dropped. So much happened the night of the supermoon and it made Stiles clam up. To chastise himself for falling for the bad guy. But when Theo got his promised Alpha powers from the Dread Doctors and a pack of his own, Theo still went after Stiles. The sexy smirks and flirtatious remarks didn’t go away.

It got to a point where Stiles nearly forgot that they were supposed to be enemies. When he and Scott talked in the library, Stiles was able to convince Scott to leave without him under the guise of interrogating the chimera. Theo slammed Stiles against the nearest bookshelf once the True Alpha was out of ear shot. He didn’t even hesitate letting Theo kiss him breathless.

Everything would turn sour the moment Theo would ask him to join his pack. It slammed Stiles’ brain with so much logic that it hurt. Everything would come back into sharp focus once more. Stiles couldn’t get himself to utter that three letter word like his heart so badly wanted him to. The word poisoned his tongue more and more each time it wasn’t used.

Until Stiles found out that the chimera had attempted to get Deucalion in alliance with him. He’s seen firsthand the things he could do blind. It didn’t feel right to him that Theo was putting himself in danger without even knowing it. By the time Stiles made it to the tunnels to confess his feelings and beg to leave the Demon Wolf out of this, Theo was already in the hole. 

No one even told him it was happening that night. Stiles thought he had one more chance to convince Scott not to let Kira do that. But when prompted with why they shouldn’t, Stiles didn’t have a good enough excuse. Because reminding the True Alpha that they don’t kill people didn’t work. And if anyone was going to hear it first about how much he felt about Theo, it was going to be the chimera himself. 

Ironic in and of itself because when Stiles finally admitted it to Scott two months later, his best friend shocked him. Said that if he’d known, the wolf wouldn’t have done that. That given everything with Allison, they would’ve figured out how to work with Theo.

The one time things blew up because Stiles didn’t open his mouth. 

He could’ve been happy.

“Stiles!”

Stiles jolts, realizing Isaac had been shaking him and calling his name. The Whispers are gone. No more Nogitsune. No more Theo. “Sorry,” he gasps a breath, hoping to trick his lungs into breathing properly. It half works and he hastily wipes the remaining tears away. “You weren’t kidding,” he gestures towards the window, “they really want you to open that.” His laugh doesn’t quite sound familiar, almost fake. Still a little too shaken up that humor isn’t ready to work just yet. 

“But you didn’t,” Isaac notes, sitting back down. “If there’s a most likely portion of the trip that gets people to break, it’s the Fog of Whispers.”

“Oh, really? I wonder why,” Stiles scoffs sarcastically, looking away to blink away a few forming tears. “What the fuck what that, Isaac?”

“It’s a fog,” the conductor explains. “We can’t get it to filter out no matter how much we try. It comes in through the air vents and gets into your mind for a bit.”

The door on the opposite end of the car opens, a tall blonde man pushes a white cloth covered cart. Coffee and a small plate of snacks rest on top. He looks dull, almost lifeless in his features. 

“Perfect timing, Brett,” Isaac waves him over. 

Again, they’re the only ones here.

“Cream and sugar?” Brett asks, setting the plate and a small, delicate cup of coffee in front of him.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you,” he says politely. 

The waiter’s brows rise, “you just drink it as is?”

Stiles raises a shoulder, “my dad’s a sheriff. I kind of grew accustomed to the taste since it’s all he drinks. How do you take it?” He asks, remembering they like when people care enough to talk about them. And he’s actually kind of curious. 

Brett’s features visibly brighten. Quite literally as color spreads over his face, “I used to be one of those people who had a specific drink at Starbucks.”

“What was it?” Stiles asks. “Maybe if there’s a Starbucks near me, I can try it out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles takes his phone out, opening up a note. Handing his phone over, he says, “write it down for me.”

Brett does as told and hands the device over, “I know you can’t tell me what you think of it, but I hope you enjoy it.” He smiles, “it was very nice meeting you, Stiles,” he says before walking away.

“You’re good at this,” Isaac says, crossing his arms and grinning.

“Not to be pushy, but have any idea how much longer this is going to take?” He needs more than just cheese, crackers, and grapes. 

“We should be-” the train jerks and creaks, “-yup, there it is,” Isaac quips. 

“Did we just go off the tracks?” Stiles panics, reaching for the blinds only to stop himself. “Right,” he looks back at the conductor, “why do you not seem worried about that?”

“Perfectly normal.”

Stiles sighs, “of course it is. Why is it? This seems like an awful lot just to reach your soulmate?”

“I don’t make the interdimensional pathways, Stiles,” Isaac raises his hands, “I just navigate them. Besides, isn’t there supposed to be nothing that can get in the way of true love?” 

“Fair point.” Stiles can’t really argue that. He may not love the person yet, but he’s meant to. “So what was that about?”

“Sea of Blood.”

“The Blood Sea,” Stiles corrects with a snort. 

Isaac shakes his head, “Sea of Blood.” Well, that’s just fantastic, isn’t it? “Pretty soon you’ll hear what sounds like whales.”

“It’s not whales, is it?” Stiles asks, knowing it’s not.

The conductor shakes his head again, “sirens. The sea ran red with the blood of their victims centuries ago. I don’t think it’s even water anymore.”

“Yikes,” Stiles shivers the thought away. Who needs to look out the window when his imagination paints a vivid enough picture? He has this feeling that they’re not your average sirens. The ones that look like devilish mermaids. 

Then the call begins. A hauntingly beautiful sound full of enough melancholy to appear alluring. A plea for someone to come help them. To save them from an eternity of loneliness. 

If only it didn’t lead to his death.

“It’s sort of beautiful,” Stiles remarks in wonder. It’s almost like the sound you’d expect to hear on a noise machine to help you sleep. “I see why people confuse them with whales. It’s rather relaxing.”

“Until they rip your spine out,” Isaac retorts. “I’ve seen what they’re capable of. Trust me when I say the only thing beautiful about them is their singing voice. When a siren attacks, it’s the loudest screech you’ll ever hear. High enough to make one’s ears bleed.”

“Peachy, aren’t they?” Stiles takes another sip of his coffee before putting the cup down. “I know you said you don’t make the pathways, but if they’re so dangerous, why not take another route?” Surely there’s less bloodshed elsewhere.

Isaac sips his tea, “would you believe me if I told you that not only is this the fastest route, it’s also the safest?” He eyes the conductor warily. “The Sea of Blood is the best way to get to the dimensional hop. Once there, we’re practically spat out at your destination. But no one can just start here. There’s certain paths. The one we used to take in my early days,” Isaac grimaces, “consider yourself lucky that the beginning was only monsters attracted to light.”

“That bad?” Stiles asks, finishing his drink.

“There used to be creatures that relied only on sound. You breathe too loud in their realm and they’d rip the window clean off,” Isaac explains. “Before getting to the Sea of Blood, we’d have to go under raging waters infested with Krakens and anglerfish the size of planes. It was chaos to deal with all of that on top of the monsters and Whispers.”

“So what changed?”

The conductor fiddles with the rim of his teacup, “one day I noticed an opening and it took the train straight to the Whispers and then here.” Isaac nods his head to the side, “it cut the trip and kept more people alive. I still lose people, but significantly less than I used to. Now it’s mostly from their lack of listening rather than taking too deep of a breath.”

Stiles nods, it makes sense. A crazy concept nonetheless. 

The train jerks around again, wheels squealing in their efforts.

“Are you ready?” Isaac beams, “we’re almost at the jump. Have you been on a plane before?”

“Quite a few times.”

“Good,” the conductor nods, “so you’re familiar with the feeling of takeoff and gaining altitude. How your ears will pop from the pressure?” Stiles nods his agreement. “That’s exactly what the dimensional jump feels like. After that, we’ll be right outside your soulmate’s house.”

Anxiety pools in his stomach along with anticipation. Stiles gives another nod as the train speeds up, “that’s great.”

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” Isaac assures him, patting Stiles’ clenched fist. “You can always change your mind when we get there. Soulmates aren’t always what you expect.” The cabin pressure rises and Stiles feels the air bubble forming. “You’ll be a part of my crew should you refuse after the journey, but at least we like each other. It’s your choice, don’t forget that.”

The pressure in his skull reaches a breaking point and Stiles’ ears pop violently. For a startlingly long moment, he worries he might throw up. Nausea crashing into him in endless waves of sour sickness. Leaving him disoriented. Almost like Stiles isn’t in his own body, though he can feel all it.

Without warning, the train screeches to halt. 

“We’re here,” Isaac announces, positively giddy, getting up from his side of the booth. 

Shaking the jitters from his limbs, Stiles grabs his bag, joining the conductor by the exit. “Let’s do this,” he breathes out, wishing he wasn’t so goddamn anxious.

Just like when he boarded, Isaac bows, “after you,” gesturing towards the cabin’s now open door.

It takes all of three seconds after getting on the top step to realize where he is. He’s back home. Well, not his home, but Beacon Hills. The house itself is also painstakingly familiar, it’s on the tip of his tongue. He turns to face the conductor, “who-”

“Stiles,” Isaac smiles, stepping off the train to help him down. “Welcome to the Raeken residence.”

Raeken.

That’s impossible.

“But Theo’s-”

Isaac interrupts him again, “yes, we’re back in Beacon Hills, that’s true. But not your Beacon Hills. Rather one from a timeline where you didn’t survive Donovan and Theo never went to hell.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Stiles,” Isaac grins, “I know all of my passengers' destinations. I’m just not allowed to tell you until you arrive. You almost got me though when you cried to his Whisper,” the conductor says. “Was he an Alpha in your universe?”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ eyes narrow, “is he not here?”

“No, he is,” Isaac confirms. “This is where you can choose to refuse. When this universe’s Stiles died, it nearly broke this Theo. He’s been feral ever since,” the conductor warns, “he snaps at anyone that isn’t his pack. Killed the Dread Doctors for creating Donovan in the first place and then Donovan too. He was made aware that his soulmate was coming, just not who. I don’t believe he’ll attack you, definitely not once he smells you, but…”

Theo went feral over losing him? That’s a lot to take in considering now nearly as much happened with the other version of him. Donovan attacking him was fairly early in the Dread Doctor bullshit. Unless this universe’s Stiles trusted Theo from the beginning. That the other him wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, consequences be damned.

“But?” Stiles pushes.

“He’s still feral,” Isaac says.

To be quite frank, Stiles couldn’t care less. This is viable proof that no matter the situation or fucking universe, Theo always wants him. His Theo can never be brought back. Just like this Theo’s Stiles is gone forever too. They can both get the impossible and heal together. They can have happiness.

“I can handle a feral Alpha,” Stiles scoffs, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. A loud roar splits the quiet night air and the front door is flung open. Theo, shifted and red eyed, stalks towards them, freezing when he catches sight of Stiles. “Theo,” he whispers, eyes growing cloudy.

“Theo!” Josh runs out the front door, “you can’t just- is that?” The raiju’s eyes grow comically wide, “guys, get out here!”

The Alpha snarls, running towards them.

“Are you accepting your soulmate?” Isaac asks.

He looks at the conductor with blurry vision, choking on the word, “absolutely.”

“Then this is where I leave you, Stiles,” Isaac holds out his hand, “it was a pleasure to meet you and bring you to your soulmate.”

Stiles shakes his hand, “you too, Isaac, thank you. Tell Brett goodbye and that I’ll be able to try his coffee.”

When Isaac gets back on the train, he tips his hat with a smile. As the locomotive begins to move, it takes on the same glowing blue nature of the tracks, disappearing all together. It leaves no sign that it was ever there. No smoke. No lingering scent of coal. No indents where the tracks once were.

He has barely a second to turn around before Theo slams into him with a snarl. Stiles hits the ground with a hard thud, the chimera’s fangs mere inches from his face as he roars. Theo has his claws fisted on either side of the human’s head, huffing out growled breaths. Stiles’ heart is pounding. 

“Theo stop!” Josh catches up, skidding to a halt. “It is you,” the raiju says in something akin to wonder with misty eyes. “Theo, get off of-”

“Stop,” Stiles raises his hand before the Alpha can lunge. “He needs to recognize me himself or there’s no hope of getting him back.” Like Cora and Boyd the night of their first full moon after being deprived for months. “Theo needs to do whatever he needs to do,” the human cautiously raises his wrist for the chimera to scent. “It’s okay, Kochaine,” he soothes, the name rolling off his tongue with ease. Noticing the way that with every word he says, the Alpha’s breaths slow down. 

Corey, Tracy, Mason, and Hayden join them, the former speaking, “is this real?”

Theo snarls at the additional voice, ready to attack his own pack he’s that far gone.

“Back off,” Stiles warns from underneath the Alpha. “I don’t know how long your Stiles has been gone for. Theo,” he cups the chimera’s face, “look at me,” coaxing his attention back. Theo whines when they make eye contact, “my Theo died too,” Stiles’ own eyes water. Tracy and Corey gasp at the admission. “The Soulmate Train can travel between universes and timelines,” he explains to the pack. “They gave us back what we lost,” his voice shakes, stroking the hairy face he never thought he’d see much less feel again.

“I’ll call your dad,” Hayden whispers so as not to startle the Alpha.

“No,” his fingers glide along the point of Theo’s ears, “let me bring him back to himself first. We’re lucky he’s not stuck in his full shift. Call him in the morning.” Stiles sniffles, “I missed you.”

Theo leans down, sniffing the human’s pulse before a softer rumble vibrates his chest. “Stiles,” his voice is thick, rough with who knows how long without use. The Alpha collapses on him, arms wrapping around his sides, nose scenting his neck. “Stiles,” the chimera grumbles again. Seemingly the only word he’s capable of saying right now. 

“I’m right here,” Stiles assures his soulmate. Carding his fingers through Theo’s longer hair. “Exactly how long have I been gone for?” The Alpha’s hair wasn’t but an inch long the last he’d seen him.

There’s a pregnant pause before Mason answers, “six months.”

Theo looks up at him with red eyes. He’s in there, somewhere, Stiles is sure of it. The excess hair has gone away and the chimera’s ears are back to normal, but his fangs remain. The Alpha has had to live without him for twice the amount Stiles had. His heart bleeds for him. 

“Can you hear me in there?” He returns his attention back to the task at hand. Theo grunts in response, bumping his nose against the human’s chin purposefully. Stiles will take that as much of a yes as the chimera can offer right now. “Okay,” he tilts his head back, exposing his throat for the Alpha’s needs. 

Whatever it takes to bring him back.

But then Theo’s tongue joins the scenting and Stiles shivers from the act. It slams him back into the present. Reminding Stiles that they’re very much in public. The middle of the night, yes. But in the Alpha’s front yard with his pack right next to them just the same. Not the place to be licking someone’s neck…or grinding against them. 

“Hey, Theo,” Stiles gently pats the chimera’s shoulders. He gets an annoyed grunt followed by a nip below his ear. “Kochaine,” he muses, “I was just going to ask if we could maybe go inside.”

The Alpha goes rigid above him, curious rubies searching Stiles’ face. Theo seems to find whatever he was looking for, because without further ado, the chimera climbs off of him. The moment Theo is standing, he pulls the human to his feet and promptly into a bridal carry, heading towards the door without another word. Just more growls and grabby hands. 

Stiles doesn’t object, seeing Tracy grab his fallen bag over the Alpha’s shoulder. He simply wraps his arms around his soulmate’s neck, enjoying being able to feel Theo’s warmth again. Hear his strong breaths of life coursing through the chimera. Stiles never once dreamed he’d get to be around Theo ever again. 

This couldn’t be more of a fantasy come to life. 

When they reach Theo’s room upstairs, he’s unceremoniously dropped on the bed. Stiles has barely a chance to recover before Theo is on top of him again. For the first time tonight, the Alpha says something other than his name.

“I need you,” Theo murmurs into his neck, suggestive hands squeeze his waist. Fingers pleading just as much as the Alpha’s words, “please, Stiles. Need you.”

“I’m right here,” he assures his soulmate, lifting his head to make Theo look at him. “Take what you need,” Stiles says, pulling the Alpha into a kiss. Not caring in the slightest over the way his fangs make it sloppy and uncoordinated. 

He finally has Theo and not a damn thing is going to dampen that. 

They have all the time in the world for proper kissing.

Because when it boils down to it, Stiles needs this just as much as the chimera does. When the Alpha thrusts inside of him, there isn’t a single thing that could make it better. Watching Theo come apart with his name moaned from the chimera’s lips is perfect. Because when they stop, Theo still inside of him, blue eyes blink lovingly back at him. Theo, finally back to himself once more, is smiling and brushing his fingers along Stiles’ face.

Stiles couldn’t be more happy to have gotten a ticket. 

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 25

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Frank lets you and Karen know he's alive and ends up saving Matt's life as well

You watched the sun slowly creep over the city while divers still worked to haul body after body out the water. You'd offered to help but Mahoney had not so subtly reminded you that you weren't on the clock and that you and Karen were present as witnesses nothing more. 

You and Karen stood side by side. She was wrapped in a blanket one of the officers had given her and had draped another blanket over your shoulders. You'd taken it although you were still to numb for the cold to bother you. You stared at every body that was burnt trying to gauge the height and built as to if it was possible that Frank was truly dead. You'd given up on him once, you weren't doing it again without seeing his body with your own eyes.

"Karen, Y/N you two can go home" Brett walked over to where you two stood. You knew the story was that Frank had followed Karen and the officers and kidnapped her. That was what Karen had told and you'd backed it up. It felt like a cold dagger sliding through your chest when Mahoney said "Castle didn't survive. He's a dead man" he was trying to be reassuring because Karen was portraying to be fearful of Frank but you saw her shoulders tense at his words just the way your own had.

He looked between the two of you then waved another officer over "Thompson! Take these two wherever they need to go" you followed her to the car and climbed in the backseat. You didn't even register him asking where you wanted to be taken until Karen spoke up and said "She's going with me" 

-------------------

You laid your head over on the window and allowed yourself a moment to breathe. You realized with a start that you hadn't so much as glanced at your phone since Karen had called you from the diner. You pulled it out and saw a dozen missed calls from Kenzie, Alice and Curtis.

Before you had time to pick who to call back first Thompson was pulling over in front of the bulletin. You didn't question it and simply stepped out with Karen. You followed her up the sidewalk but stopped just outside the door "Aren't you coming in?" She asked so you held up your phone "I've got a lot of people worried. I need to check in then I'll come in" she gave you a small nod then glanced around and stepped closer "Just keep an eye out please?" "Always" you assured her then watched her walk inside before choosing to call Curtis back first.

-------------------

After agreeing to meet up with Curtis as soon as he got off work and assuring Alice and Kenzie both that you were ok and would not be missing Christmas with them, you headed inside.

You walked into Karen's office in enough time to hear her say "FRANK CASTLE IS NOT A PSYCHO MURDERER.." Then her face fell as she met your eyes and added "or wasn't"

Ellison cut his eyes at you before saying "He did kill thirty something people" "and although he shouldn't have" you began and Karen finished by saying "he had his reasons" Ellison stared at you for a second then turned his attention to Karen "Then the story isn't over. Make it a profile instead of an expose"

Karen looked at you and you knew it was a silent way of asking if you were ok with that. You nodded slightly so she agreed. Ellison let out a breath then said "Good get to work and Y/N do we need to get you a press pass too?" You knew it was because you were always with Karen so you snaked your paramedic id out "This gets me into most crime scenes" 

He nodded approvingly "I can see why Castle liked the two of you" then walked out.

Once he was out of sight you looked back at Karen and saw wheels were already turning in her head. "I can see you're thinking of chasing some lead. I am one hundred percent in but I've got to go see Curt so just cool your heels and call me so you can come pick me up ok?" She nodded then came around the desk to pull you into a hug "We'll figure this out. I'm honestly just glad we met Y/N no matter the circumstance" "Me too Karen" you replied with a smile.

The two of you made plans to meet later so you headed to swing by Kenzie's office then you could grab a hot shower and maybe either some sleep or something caffeinated before you met up with Curtis.

--------------------

You'd just left Curtis when your phone went off with a text from Karen that read "I'm going to talk to Schoonover. I'll call as soon as I leave his place" you cursed under your breath. She'd promised to not go anywhere alone. You texted back "CALL ME ASAP" but before you could get a reply a set of hands grabbed you from behind and drug you into the alley you'd just walked past. 

You threw your head back hearing a satisfying grunt when it connected with your attackers face. The grip on your arms loosened so you spun around then gasped when you saw Frank standing there rubbing his jaw. 

"You're alive?!?!" You whispered in shock. "Yeah kid. Should've known you wouldn't get rid of me that easily. Where's Karen? Figured you two would be together" "She went to see Schoonover Frank. She's still trying to clear you of the psycho murderer label" the moment the words left your mouth he started cussing "Frank what is it?" You asked and when his eyes met yours you felt a small chill at the anger in them. "He's involved"

-------------------

Frank ran down everything he'd learned as he lead you behind him to a truck parked on the street. You didn't know what he planned to do until he popped the door open. "I'm going to get her and kill that son of a bitch. Get a car then head the direction I told you. I can't take you with me Y/N so don't even ask"

You watched him pull away in the stolen truck and had never felt more helpless in your life.

------------------------

You hailed a cab to take you back to Curtis' place so you didn't have to waste time walking. When you knocked on the door he answered but looked a little confused "Y/N? What's going on?" "Curt I need to borrow your car" he was holding out the keys before he asked "Is everything ok? Do you need me to come with you?" You shook your head "I think I can handle it. Thanks Curt"

You practically ran back down to the street and hopped into his car. You only hoped that you'd find both Frank and Karen alive. Schoonover was dirty, involved in drug smuggling and murder. If Frank got there in enough time Karen was fine but god what if he hadn't?

--------------------

You were trying to keep an eye out as you drove but the moment your headlights landed on a wreck you realized the car involved was Karen's and the truck was the one Frank had stolen.

You threw the car into park and jumped out. You didn't want to yell so you walked slowly towards the car and heard a faint crying. You found Karen on her knees next to the wreckage. You knelt down next to her and gently touched her back. She jumped defensively at first but the moment she saw it was you she crumbled "Frank's alive and Schoonover is dead"

You stayed that way for the longest letting her cry on your shoulder. The last few weeks had been hell not to mention staring at the wreckage of her car reminded you of the photos she'd shown you of when her brother was killed. All the trauma had finally hit her at once. Once the sky started to lighten you slowly talked her into Curtis' car. Frank could take care of himself for the most part you needed to check Karen over for injuries and make sure she didn't succumb to shock either 

-------------------------

Luckily Karen simply needed some butterfly stitches on her head and her arm was just bruised. Over the course of the next few days the two of you didn't leave each other far except when you were working. You both needed the comfort from each other's presence. You couldn't pass a newsstand without seeing Frank's photograph or the x-ray of him being shot plastered across some magazine or paper with the headline of the punisher being dead. The city was part relieved and part in mourning. 

You hated lying to Alice and Kenzie but everyone was safer with the official story being that Frank was dead. You knew he'd contact you, Curt and Karen when the time was right. Until then you simply said a silent prayer to whoever may be out there listening to keep him safe.

Billy had called Curtis when news came down of Frank truly being "dead". He'd asked how you were so Curt simply said you were holding together. You and him had a headstone ordered to place with the kids and Maria's. Better to sell the story and besides a big part of Frank did die that day and that was a loss to mourn as well as what all of your lives would've been had whatever happened in Kandahar (that you still weren't sure of) hadn't. You knew like everything Frank would eventually tell you, you just wished for once he'd pick sooner rather than later.

-----------------------

You had just gotten home from your shift when your phone started ringing. You glanced down to see it was Karen so you answered as you were putting your med bag into the hall closet "Hello Miss Page. How are you dear?" You could hear in her voice that she was as tired as you felt "I'm actually headed home. I've been trying to write this article but I feel like I'm banging my head against a brick wall. I know you just got off but do you want to meet at the diner?" 

You glanced at the time then said "Sure. Why not? Meet you in twenty?" You heard a scuffle in the background followed by Karen screaming "LET ME GO ASSHOLE" "KAREN?" You screamed into the phone trying to get her to respond but after a moment a different voice came on the line "She's unavailable" you could feel your blood boil at the idea of losing anyone else. You couldn't do it. "You son of a bitch. Let her go" the line went dead right after.

You took a deep breath trying to think of what to do. The voice didn't sound like they were from New York or anywhere in the states for that matter so chances were it wasn't any remaining people from the cover-up. You scrolled through your contacts then clicked on Mahoneys cell number. Once you reported her abducted you could try to get Matt or Frank on the line.

--------------------

You had grabbed your purse and scanner before leaving your place. Your only hope was the police finding her. Mahoney had actually been honest with you. Some people had attacked him and they had wanted the names of the people daredevil had helped plus the names of who he'd put away. So this attack on Karen was a lure. Whoever they were only wanted Matt.

You were about to walk into his building at the off chance he was home when it came across the scanner reports of an officer down at thirty sixth and seventh. Normally you wouldn't pay much attention but when the officer added "They shot em with god damn arrows!" You figured that was the safest bet.

----------------------

The taxi you'd hailed dropped you off a little ways from the scene. Cop cars were already everywhere so you clipped your i.d. to your jacket and ran to the front of the crowd "Y/N?" You turned to see Karen running towards you and released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding "Thank god Karen are you ok?" You asked scanning your eyes over her to see if there was any visible injuries. She nodded "I'm fine. They didn't even care about us. They just wanted to lure daredevil out"

Time she said those words you heard Mahoney barking out orders to light up the rooftop. "Anything goes down I want to see!" You heard someone call out yours and Karen's names and looked up to see Foggy working his way through the crowd. You actually made it to his side before Karen "Daredevil is in there" you knew better than to drop Matt's name but poor Foggy looked like he may puke when you said that.

-----------------------

You stood between Karen and Foggy trying to see what was going on so many stories up. The mass amount of bodies moving around on the roof was disheartening. Matt only had his ex girlfriend Elektra up there as backup. They were severely outnumbered.

You were holding your breath and your hand had once again found Karen's. Both of you begging to anyone that things would turn out alright. As if an answer to that prayer gunfire rang out. Everyone started ducking or looking for cover except for you and Karen.

She pulled you a few feet from everyone and pointed up. You followed her line of sight and smiled when you realized Frank had come to back Matt up. "Thank god"

--------------------

When the building was secured Daredevil was nowhere to be found. You heard from Mahoney a body of a woman had been found on the rooftop wearing clothes very similar to daredevil's suit. Your heart dropped for Matt. That had to be Elektra.

You, Karen and Foggy ended up watching the sun come up while you all drank coffee at the diner.

------------------

Later that day you got a phone call from Curtis. You didn't have to work until the following evening so it was normal for him to want to catch lunch or something when he knew you had the day off but when you answered he simply said "You and Karen come by where I usually have the meetings around seven" he hung up and you stared at the phone for a moment before calling Karen to make sure she wasn't busy.

------------------

"So what's this about?" Karen asked as you lead her into the building. "I don't know. Normally Curt isn't the cryptic type" "This one time I had to be" he said from the doorway up ahead and you smiled before pulling him down into a hug "and why is that?"

Frank stepped out from behind him at your question "because I asked him to be"

Curtis had arranged for Frank a new I.D. and the whole nine yards complete with a one room apartment across the city. Frank needed some time after everything, you knew that but you hated the goodbye. He waved the small flip phone in his hand "I'm not leaving for good sweetheart. If you ever need me I'm a phone call away"

After you and him shared a few words he glanced at Karen "Can I talk to you for a second?" You grabbed Curtis' arm and said "C'mon Curt I need to talk to you about that thing"

The two of you waited in the hall for several minutes before Karen and Frank walked out. He shared a look with her then nodded at you and Curtis before heading for the back door of the building. "Think he's gonna be ok?" Curtis asked of no one in particular but you still answered "I think he'll make it through as long as we don't let him sink down in that hole alone"

------------------

On Christmas eve you woke up earlier than you normally did. You and Alice had managed to pull the lucky straws to have two days off. Of course that meant working New Years but that was still a few days away.

You had managed to track down where Elektra was being buried and had called Father Lanthom who as it turned out was Matt's priest to find out when. When you told him point blank Matt didn't want anyone there but you didn't want to see him face the loss alone he'd happily told you.

You didn't know Elektra so you grabbed a simple lilly arrangement. You walked through the headstones and spotted Matt standing next to an older man. They were talking so you didn't want to interrupt. 

After a few minutes the older man walked away and Matt raised his voice enough to say "Y/N I heard you when you walked up." He hadn't even turned towards you so you simply walked up to stand next to him "Not gonna lie that's still a little weird Murdock" you managed to bring a small smile to his face at that. 

You reached for his hand and passed the flowers over "They're lilies. I felt strange not bringing flowers. I didn't know her Matt but I know you. If you decide you need someone to talk to or need someone to patch you up. I'm around" he nodded and took a ragged breath.

You knew what someone fighting back tears looked like, you'd seen it and done it enough. Without thinking you pulled him into a hug. He rested his head against your shoulder "I need to tell Karen the truth and I need to fix things with Foggy. I don't want to lose anyone else"

It hurt you seeing him like this. You considered him a friend so you offered "I can help you tell Karen if you want and maybe start to mend things with Foggy as well" "Thank you Y/N" "You're welcome Matt"

---------------------

You headed to the bulletin later that day to meet Karen. She was joining you at Alice and Kenzies Christmas eve dinner. Christmas day you'd be helping Curtis at the soup kitchen.

When you walked in Ellison passed you with a smile. "She's in her office. Feel free to drag her out" you laughed and said "That's exactly what I'm here for"

When you got to the door of her office she was smiling at her screen "Good news?" You spoke and saw her jump slightly before she realized it was you "I finally got that article written. Come read it" she motioned for you to take her chair so you did and started to read what was on the screen:

What is it, to be a hero? Look in the mirror and you’ll know. Look into your own eyes and tell me you are not heroic, that you have not endured, or suffered, or lost the things you care about most. And yet, here you are, a survivor of Hell’s Kitchen, the hottest place anyone’s ever known. A place where cowards don’t last long, so you must be a hero. We all are. Some more than others, but none of us alone. Some bloody their fists trying to keep the Kitchen safe. Others bloody the streets in the hope they can stop the tide, the crime, the cruelty, the disregard for human life all around them. But this is Hell’s Kitchen. Angel or devil, rich or poor, young or old, you live here. You didn’t choose this town, it chose you. Because a hero isn’t someone who lives above us, keeping us safe. A hero’s not a God, or an idea. A hero lives here, on the street, among us, with us. Always here but rarely recognized. Look in the mirror and see yourself for what you truly are. You’re a New Yorker. You’re a hero. This is your Hell’s Kitchen. Welcome home.

"What do you think?" She asked and you smiled up at her "It's perfect"

---------------------

The day after Christmas Karen called you to say Matt had asked her to meet him at Nelson & Murdock and to bring you along. You knew what that meant but acted as if you were surprised.

You sat back on top of Matt's desk while he told Karen. Her eyes were wide when she looked towards you "Did you know?" "Only cause Frank shot him, sort of" you confessed and she nodded. 

"Are you mad?" You questioned and was relieved when she shook her head "No it answers a lot of questions" you knew she had to feel betrayed since you had kept Matt's secret but it seemed as if she was going to get past that. After she hugged Matt she simply asked if Foggy knew. When the answer was yes she looked at you with a clearly tense smile "Wanna grab dinner?" "Sure" you replied with a nod, hopping off the desk. 

When you walked past Matt he grabbed your arm gently "Call me later please and tell me just how pissed she is?" "Yeah as long as you promise to call Foggy" you replied then hurried to catch up to Karen before she could make it outside.

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny