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brokenheartwithheartbreak · 3 months ago

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Okay I don’t even go here and I’ve never done this before but I’m 10k deep into a post-finale probably AU platonic Thiam fic based on Theo trying to figure out his shit and function as a human being and DOUBTING my writing very hard rn so. What’s the consensus from anyone whose been in this fandom for longer than two months (see: anyone but me)

Excerpt:

Melissa bustles away before he can unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Liam watching her go with an oddly forlorn look, still draped over the desk, before those wide puppy-innocent eyes snap to Theo, still hopelessly open and unguarded even as he sighs, a heavy laborious thing, and shakes his head.

“She’s still mad at you.” He says by way of greeting. Theo frowns, has lost Melissa in the throng of people toing and froing in the hallways already, eyes cutting to Liam instead and attempting to dissect why he seems to think this matters.

“I killed her son.” He says flatly, when it becomes apparent Liam expects an answer, “He’s still pissed. Why wouldn’t she be?"

Liam’s gaze turns thoughtful, studying Theo as he stands there in his threadbare t-shirt and the same jeans he’d been wearing when Gabe’s blood was splattering on the tiles, four floors up, three weeks ago. They've been cleaned since - he managed to scrape together enough change for a trip to the laundromat last week - but being back here he can distinctly remember the specific scent of blood and fear and death, a little different for every dead body left in Monroe's wake, tinged with a slightly different mix of the same three things her teenage soldiers feel in their last moments.

Liam's still looking at him with those deceptively sharp eyes, blue like the sky, like a bottomless ocean. He has a skill for looking at people - at Theo - and giving off the impression that he's looking deeper, peeling back the guarded layers and taking a look at the exposed damage underneath, poking at that damage and seeing how much it takes to make him jump, not in a malicious way, though, in a 'testing boundaries' sort of way, in a 'how far can I push you before you snap back' kind of way that Theo respects more than he resents, because he's the same, in a way. He gets the feeling Liam is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Theo to slip and the carefully crafted master plan to crack and splinter and shatter down around him all over again, gets the feeling this pushing and prodding is a reflexive, knee jerk reaction to how easily he'd slipped into their ranks and earned their trust last time around. While the rest of the pack seem to have decided the best policy is just to keep him at arm's length until they need to pull him in for a human shield, Liam seems to have gone for the opposite; tugging Theo closer so he can peer into the cracks and crevices Tara clawed into his armour and decide whether the things he does and the words he says are genuine or just another misdirection.

Theo really doesn't have the energy for misdirection anymore - what's the point? All these people have already seen the worst of him, have seen him rip them apart to take what he wanted, seen him rip apart his own pack to take their power, there is nothing he could say or do now to wipe that slate clean and make them forget, that much has been made quite obviously clear. And, somewhere along the line of those four months that felt like four years, four decades, too much time and not enough and how do you reconcile losing that much of your life when it felt like repeating the same five minutes over and over and over again, somewhere along the line the parts of him that were so well trained, so carefully schooled he could control his heartbeat and his chemosignals and his every minuscule emotion like his own body was his puppet, those parts died, ripped out of him a thousand times over alongside Tara's heart and left to rot on that cold hospital floor.

He thinks, privately, in some dark corner of his mind, that Liam might be the only one of them that's actually maybe worthy of being an Alpha. He's explosive and angry, yes, but when the anger drains out he's quiet and clever, stubborn and selfless and so quick to forgive. He's rushing headfirst into danger to give his friends a fighting chance, he's pounding fists against stone until his knuckles break to stop himself hurting a kid who honestly deserved it, he's a heart skipping traitorously over 'I'm not dying for you either.' He's the only one Theo might delude himself into believing has possibly come close to forgiving him, despite it all, despite Theo manipulating him into attacking his own Alpha, despite Theo taunting him and goading him at every opportunity because once, Before Skinwalker Prison Theo thought it was kind of funny to see how many buttons he could press before Scott's favourite blew a fuse.

All that, and he's still the top contact in Theo's pitifully empty phone, he's still the one who came looking that night after the hospital, after Gabe, limping on his own bullet wound, to find Theo sprawled in the back of his truck, rolling the crumpled slug he pulled from his sluggishly bleeding shoulder across the scratched plastic of the tray and trying to erase the feeling of death creeping through his veins as Gabe's heart gave out, pain free. He doesn't know where he stands with a lot of the pack these days, other than understanding the general air of discontent and distrust whenever he happens to be in the same room, but with Liam, at least, their relationship is relatively clear, cut and dried. They're not friends, probably never will be, but they went through something together, survived something together, and that simple act has tied some sort of invisible string between them that has Theo gravitating towards Liam like he's a sharp metal blade and Liam a magnet.

Maybe he's lonely, left behind by everything he's known, cracked open by Tara's hand in his chest, left exposed in the aftermath in such a way he doesn't know how to put the mask back on and pretend anymore. Maybe Liam doesn't look at him like a monster, just a puzzle, not ugly-messy-killer boy but beaten-tired-trying boy. It's not much but it's enough for him to think maybe one person in this fucked up town doesn't completely hate his guts, and that breadcrumb of hope is enough to stir the dead thing in his chest into some sort of continued existence every morning.

None of that stops him from feeling a little like a bug under a microscope, now, trapped in this moment that seems to last hours and seconds at the same time, caught in the arcing swing of the pendulum on a grandfather clock, caught under Liam's gaze that sees too much and not enough at the same time. He fights the urge to let his hands curl into fists, tries instead to remember what it felt like to break Liam’s nose - four weeks ago, five, it doesn’t matter - last time so he doesn’t give in to the urge to do it again, bloody and broken, right here in front of all these hospital staff, these Normal people who might not be so Normal after all. Half of them were here, were working when Monroe’s hunters took over the hospital, when they threw guns into the hands of children and told them to go to war against their classmates, told them that murdering a teenager for being Something Else would net them a win in some sort of moral war as well as the actual, bloody, violent one.

He wonders if any of them recognise him and Liam, two teenagers lingering in a hospital hallway, two Others making themselves easy targets.

“What?” He snaps, surprises himself a little with the sharp tone, but Liam hasn’t moved, hasn’t stopped pinning him with that piercing look, and that’s supposed to be Theo’s job, reading him like an open book, putting together all the little invisible tells and figuring out exactly which buttons to press to get the reaction he wants, the fallout he wants, writing the script and having Liam-Scott-Stiles, all, follow along without ever even realising it. He’s not so good at that anymore, lost that skill somewhere around the three hundredth time Tara ripped her heart out of his chest.

Liam has the grace to look bashful, peeling himself off the desk in a way that looks vaguely like tearing apart Velcro, wobbling to his feet in a way that speaks of long days and longer nights, exhaustion drifting off him like cologne. “Sorry, you just…seem different.”

The apology rolls of his tongue so easily, so simply, like Theo can’t count on just his fingers how many times someone has offered him any sort of apology, and it’s about nothing, about accidentally staring in a fatigued sort of way, but it’s about so much more than that in his head and Liam’s simple-easy camaraderie makes something in his chest ache even fiercer.

‘You seem different’ Liam says, and Theo thinks about his belt being two holes tighter, shirts hanging a little looser, hard ridges of bone hidden beneath. He thinks about long, uncomfortable nights, broken up into sections of haunted sleep and a constant, thick exhaustion he wears like a second skin. He thinks about the sandwich he wolfed down at the last pack meeting to discuss the Hunters, two days ago, that barely made a dent in the gnawing, empty feeling of his insides. It’s fine, he’s managing, he’s still alive; call it another test, perhaps. How long can The Subject sustain itself with no resources?

He wonders how much of that Liam can see, wonders if ‘different’ means ‘thin’ or ‘tired’ or ‘a facsimile of who you were before’.

Theo chooses to ignore the comment entirely, stuffs his hands a little deeper in his pockets, shakes around the boxes of himself in his mind to find some semblance of his usual cold, calculating snark. His lips curl into an expression that is all fangs without ever baring his teeth, one eyebrow lifted in challenge. “You call me here just to stare, Dunbar?”

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #fanfic #post canon #post finale #snippet #Ive never posted a snippet before #and never of a WIP #but I’m so nervous of writing these characters and need motivation to continue #if no one likes this I guess I’m just gonna have to light myself on fire 🙃#might delete later if the anxiety kicks in but for now #yolo #go forth into the world my child #Heart Writes tag

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babybambi-x · 7 months ago

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when people joke about autism but they don't have to spend every evening debating if they were too much or too little that day

when people joke about autism but they ve never been so burnt out their education got set back an entire year

when people joke about autism but they cạn go to clubs and bars and concerts without having a panic attack and leaving before you make real memories

when people joke about autism but they don't get being 19 at age 9 and being 9 at age 19

when people joke about autism but they've never cried so hard they can't breathe because they know life is stuck this way forever

when people joke about autism but they don't get how one person mis-interpreting your intentions makes you spin out about how everyone sees you

when people joke about autism but suddenly its not funny when my parents restrained me as a kid during meltdowns so i wouldn't hurt myself and them

when people joke about autism but they've never felt all your new friends slip away as you finally start to be yourself around them

when people joke about autism but they didn't grow up getting called a 'neek' and a 'teachers pet' just because i never got the memo that trying to study would jeporadize any chance at being taken seriously by my peers

when people joke about autism but they've never had to deal with raging friends after you cancel plans because they don't understand that being around you while you're so burnt out would change how they see you forever

when people joke about autism but they don't get how much of an alien i feel amongst people my age. i'm either alone and myself or working tirelessly to convince people i'm one of them

when people joke about autism but they don't get how empty you feel when a hyperfixation leaves you and you realise you really are just whatever thing you're obsessed with

when people joke about autism but they aren't so hyper-aware of every feeling in their body that sometimes they think too much about breathing and find themselves blue in the lips

when people joke about autism but they don't understand how it feels to spiral out of control thinking everyone hates you because your rejection-sensitivity took one face they made or one word they said and ran

when people joke about autism but they don't get the crisis i had as a kid after coming out of a meltdown, hating myself and not understanding what happened because i swear i'm a good kid

when people joke about autism but they've never been glued to their bed because they can't do what they need to in the order their brain will allow them

when people joke about autism but they can sleep easy because they aren't hearing their hearbeat or the rustle against the sheets as you breathe

when people joke about autism but they never feel like their life is already wasted with a mind like this, knowing theres so much you just can't do, feeling like you're missing your one shot at a human existence

when people joke about autism but they don't get how i can't wear anything with a high neck because it feels like my throat will close up and i might die

when people joke about autism but they don't get that i could spend all night writing these and still not scratch the surface

when someone jokes about being autistic but they've never starved themselves for hours on end because the thought of putting food in their mouth makes them feel sick

When someone jokes about being autistic but they've never had to stop doing things they love because they mentally can't cope with how overwhelming it is

when someone jokes about being autistic but they ve never experienced what it's like for everyone to perceive you as some genius or a 3 year old

when someone jokes about being autistic but they're not 7 times more likely to die by suicide.

when someone jokes about being autistic but they've never experienced what it's like to be in burnout and loose basic skills like forming a full sentence

whien someone jokes about being autistic but they don't have to accept the fact that they'll be a social outcast for the rest of their lives

when someone jokes about being autistic but they've never experienced what it's like to be so happy yet so suicidal because no matter how good life is it's always going to be overwhelming for them and the only escape is death

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