think about how the only time angie’s mother was a parent was during these moments. think about how conflicted angie felt when she had to trade her innocence in exchange for a mom.
think about angie looking up to her mom, allowing herself to be a little girl in these moments so she could cling onto whatever scraps of child-like wonder she still had. think about her allowing herself to be taken care of, instructed, guided. think about angie finally feeling like she has a mom.
(think about her hating her mother but loving her mom.)
now think about angie finding out her mom stole the majority of the cash she made one week. think about angie’s mom coming to her coked out of her mind, desperation painted in the jagged blacks of her eyes. think about her asking angie when she’s going to go out next, giving her tips and comments on her wardrobe, on when the streets will be busiest. think about the ice that runs through angie’s blood as she connects the dots, as she sees that she was just another easy target, another object to use and abuse in her mother’s misguided agenda.
(think about her hating her mother. there is no mom to love.)
angie doesn’t go to those parts of town anymore, doesn’t want to see the alley where this happened and the building where that happened. she doesn’t want to see the place where everything happened, doesn’t want to see it, wants to forget it forget it forget it.
there was no pain is what she thinks when she ends up thinking about it (even though she wants to claw out her chest every time she does, every time).
she ignored the pain, told herself she feels no pain, she feels no pain, there is never any pain no pain what is pain she is fine. completely fine.
she can’t remember the last time she had a nightmare because nightmares are painful (aren’t they?) and angela deangelis feels no pain angela deangelis only feels conviction and ambition and control.
(she never lets herself ask if angie and angela deangelis are the same person.)
angela is a cop now, angela does what’s right, angela feels no self-disgust remembers no trauma experiences no pain. angie has a beautiful beth childs to love, has no time for bad memories that don’t matter.
angie does not sell herself anymore, doesn’t see why she ever thought she could make profit from her body and not regret it. angie is done with that stage of her life, far far away from that stage of her life (but also very close).
a/n: written for turnandchasethewind, who wanted angie prostitute headcanons. this doesn’t exactly count as a headcanon but i stuck a hint of copcop in it to make up for that, hopefully?
come leave your “younger angie working as a prostitute” head canons in my inbox so i have stuff to read when i’m home later
these cornershop girls, and she talks to them. she should arrest them but no. she hides her badge. gives them a coffee, an energy drink. a sandwich. never money. a number for a rehab place. beth notices that there are less and less prostitutes every time.
"i’m not some hooker," seventeen years old angie had told herself when walking around the dark alleys and streets. "it’s only once, it’s just for now, it won’t happen again."
the most sickening thing was her own mother advising her on her outfit. “wear a skirt,” she said, “and don’t wear pantyhose. don’t wear your bra angela, come on!”
the worse thing was buying the morning after pills from the pharmacy the following day, still wearing the leftovers of her outfits.
none of the men thought on cumming outside, she didn’t have much choice.
no, scratch that. the worse thing was going back to the streets the next month and do the same thing all over again because her mother had spent the money she earned on more drugs.
or maybe going back the following week after that?
or the time she was spending that school trip weekend on the streets, letting strange men fuck her three days in a row?
or was it going back over ten years later, to the same streets, and see the familiar but older faces of the women she used to work with? the women who embraced her so more than her own mother?
or was it the new, young faces she spoted, looking just as hopeless and scared as she was so many years ago?
she didn’t know, she didn’t want to know.
she would help them, help these broken women the best that she could, the best that she was allowed. she wasn’t a cop in these streets, she wasn’t detective angela deangelis.
she was back to being seventeen years old angie.
NO MATE SEND IT AGAIN??? (But if it’s a head canon/prompt/ficlet I probably won’t post it for a few hours cause I’m on the bus home)
If you want to be friends with me you don’t have to be “Hi, um, can, ya know, we be friends?”
It is 1000000000000000000000% percent ok if you just go into my inbox can go. “Man, I am so fucking pissed off at fucking Larry.” And I’ll most likely respond with, “Oh shit! What did Larry do now?”
beth doesn’t want to admit it but she’s kind of intimidated by angie. she’s not even sure that they’re actually going on a date for the first hour that they’re there - does she think i just want to hang out? was i not forward enough? does she do this with all of the rookies? - and it isn’t until angie says this is the first time a date has brought her to a burger dive that she relaxes.
but that lasts for a whole thirty seconds because then beth processes that angie referred to this place as a dive and while she tries to play it cool and explain the finer qualities of the restaurant angie just puts her hand over beth’s and tells her to relax. explains that she likes it; it’s low maintenance, just like her, and that maybe she’ll like this really crappy 50s diner for breakfast on their next date?
beth feels like her heart is going to climb out of her chest, but she remains stoic and shrugs along, tells angie that she’d like that.
when angie spills the mustard, beth tries not to laugh but she can’t help it. she offers napkins and flags the waitress down for the club soda, but the jacket is ruined. she notices that angie isn’t putting it on when she leaves so she shrugs hers off and offers it wordlessly. angie swats it away but beth tries to downplay it, tells angie that she doesn’t get cold easily, anyway.
she shivers the whole way home and when angie kisses her at her doorstep she comments that she’s freezing. beth shrugs and for the first time in the night can feel her confidence coming back when she says, “it was worth it.”
because you are a mas-fic-chist and you desire the angst