#I mean they did give him a fuck ass haircut but that ain’t any reason to be exclusively posting orange ass photos from the 1st ep to simp

[houseswife]

I’m so sick of getting edits of wilson on my tiktok and they exclusively use clips from the 1st season to call him hot… girl GROW UP and learn how to appreciate old men ❤️

[hoodassnerd]

Butterflies

Genre: Erik x oc

Words: a lot (I’m so sorry)

Summary: Joanna is a thug at heart but maybe not all the way through

BEEP BEEP BEEP be-

Erik shut off the alarm and look at the girl in his bed.

‘Seven? Sheela? Something with a s? I don’t fuckin know, she gotta get the fuck up tho’

Erik poked her in the back “Aye shawty, you gotta get up. “ she grunted and readjusted to get comfortable. Erik sighs, “AYO!” He shouted. She jumped up from her spot “What! It’s mad early!” “Exactly, that why you need to getcho ass up. I gotta work and I don’t know you like that so you gotta step” he said getting out of the bed.

She looked at him disappointed “Damn you really just gon kick me out like that?” She asked him. “Yea. Bye Keisha.” Erik walked into the bathroom closing the door. “MY NAME IS TIFFANY!” “Whatever the fuck it is, you gotta go” he said. Erik turned on the water ignoring whatever she was yelling at him and got in the shower so he could start his day.

Around 2:37 pm Joanna Brown woke up from her damn good dream about cheesecake and Captain America. “Shit!” She said as she finished her stretched. A good stretch. The one that makes you shake. “I should have called off today. I hate having to use my customer service voice to all them ugly ass men.” She said to herself. Jo worked at footlocker at the front register. She only kept the job because she was a sneaker head. Jo was very self conscious about her body but the men at her job didn’t give a damn about her feelings because her was shaped like the number 8. Even thought she had many customer complaints, they weren’t gonna fire her. She was the reason for half of their customers.

Jo turned on her music phone and connected it to her tv. “Rob the jewelry sto’ tell ‘em make me a grill”. Joanna milly rocked her way into the bathroom and started her showers he tied up her silver bundles and got in the water.

About 30 seconds later her primary phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw Erik’s name and the ugliest scared face you’ve ever seen. Tapping the screen she picked up the phone and started singing the song. “Got 30 down at the bottom 30 mo’ at the top, all invisible set with little ice cube blocks. If I could call it a dri-“ “I didn’t call you to hear yo fine ass sing nelly in my face” Erik said into the phone. Jo looked offended “So why dafuq did you call me?” “I called you to see if y’all got the new 11’s that just came out.” Jo looked into the phone “nigga I just got in the shower! I don’t even know if the sun is still yellow yet! And stop calling me pretty, you know I don’t like you”

Ever since they were in high school, Erik was sweet on Jo. She transferred from New York during their sophomore year. They eventually became friends after she fist fought the quarterback because he wouldn’t leave her alone. Even though they didn’t have any classes together he would always make sure that he saw her when she was at school. Erik liked Jo and was determined to get her to like him back. He would always compliment her and try to make her feel good about her self but Jo didn’t see it like that. Jo was a hood nigga, so she didn’t really want attention from men. Unless she needed some dick.

“Let me finish washing my ass first. I’ll hit you when I’m at work to let you know if we got em’” Erik smiled showing his caps “Thank you lil’ mama. Let me see ya titties” Jo hung up the phone “Bitch I am not showing you my titties” she said as she put the it back down. Willow Smiths - Wait a minute started to play on her tv “Oh this my shit!” She shouted as she turned up the volume.

‘Wait a minute! I think I left my conscience on your front door step! Woo-oo Woo-oo, Wait a minute I think I let my consciousness in the sixth dimension. But I’m here right now, right now”

Jo got in her navy blue 67’ impala that was given to her by her uncle. She started the car and the radio came on ‘FUCK A FLASH THIS AINT SNAPCHAT! CUZ IVE BEEN GETTIN’ PAID, YELLOW DIAMOND-‘. Jo jumped so high she hit her head on the roof of the car “Ow fuck! Shit” she said turning down the volume and rubbing her head. “Let me turn this shit down. I’m not the Same nigga from last night”

Pulling into the parking lot at the mall she looked at the time on her phone 4:02 ‘shiiiiiiiieeeeeeedddddd I still got 30 minutes’ she thought.

‘ when I get up all in ya’ and we can hear the angels callin us, and we can see the sunrise before us and when I’m in that thang, I make that body sang I make her say🚨🚨🚨’

“nigga this my shit!!” She said turning the up volume. The song turned down and switched to big gangster by Kevin gates. “Scuse me bitch... oh. What you want nigga!” She said to Erik as she got out the car. “Why yo thick ass just getting out the car?” He said staring directly at her . Jo stopped and looked around ‘Did this nigga wait here for me?’ “what kinda stalker shit is you on bruh?” She hung up the phone when she saw him. “Chill lil mama. I’m just trying to make sure my future wife got to work safe.” “Where she at?” Jo said confused. Erik sucked his teeth “Girl stop playin, you know it’s you. Wicho sexy ass, ooooh girl I’d love to see all that ass in a sundress.” He said licking his lips.

“Boy if you don’t get yo ass on somewhere. I wouldn’t dare marry yo ass. All the bitches you be fucking I don’t know where to dick been, nigga” she said grabbing her work bag out her backseat. “Why you ain’t take yo ass in the store? Everybody in there fuck wichu, they would have gave you a discount if you would have asked. Renee prolly would’ve gave you them shits for free, she in love wicho bum ass.” She said reaching for the door. Erik slapped her hand away from the handle. “Why you always do that like I can’t open the door” she said walking pass him. “When a man is present a women shouldn’t touch doorknobs or handles.” He said staring at her ass. “Mmmmhmmmm. Whatever nigga”

“Hi, welcome to footlocker! If you need anything just let me know!” Jo said in her customer service voice. “Fake ass” Erik said walking passed the counter. “Shut up and getcho shoes nigga!” She said back.

As Jo was reluctantly helping Erik, like the good employee she was, the door buzzer went off “Hi welcome to foo- Fuck. Welcome to footlocker if you need help please don’t ask me. “ Erik turned around and saw three men walk in the store and smirk at Jo. One was tall, about 6’4, light skin with a fucked up gumby haircut. The second one was shorter, kinda looked like Boosie with dreads. The third one looked like Dave east.....but dirty.

“Who dat?” He asked watching them walk around the store “Remember I told you about that nigga that keep coming in here bothering me but I can’t do shit cuz he buy ten pair of shoes?” He nodded “That’s his ugly ass. The dinghy one. He get on my fucking nerves. This nigga smoke boggies and think it’s ok to talk directly in my face like boy get the fuck on” she said scanning eriks shoes while he was laughing his ass off “This shit not funny bruh like, I told him I had a boyfriend but he won’t leave me the fuck alone”. Erik looked at her inquisitively “Did you describe ya so called boyfriend” he said putting quotes around boyfriend. She shook her head no. “Bet” he said. “Aye bro where you going?”

Erik walked over to the shoe display and picked up the cement grey 4’s “lil mama, y’all got these in a 12!” He asked. Jo looked up from the register to see Erik across the store “

What’s those?” “Come here and see” she rolled her eyes and put his other shoes under the counter and jogged over. “Oh the cements, let me check in the back” noticing the ‘Dave east’ looking at Jo, Erik slid his hand on her hip as she talked. She looked at him sideways like he was crazy. He lifted his brows as to say ‘play along’ Jo gave him a stink face but nodded slightly “Gimme a kiss ma” “no I’m at work” “you so mean to me” he said pouting.

Jo rolled her eyes and walked to the back room. “Aye bro. Why you pushing up on ole girl like that?” Erik turned around to see ‘Dave east’ looking like he wanted to fight. “And who the fuck is you to be asking about my girl?” He said as he squared his shoulders. ‘Dave east’ backed up a little “oh shit bro my bad I didn’t know that shorty was yours.” Erik clenched his jaw a little “ stop staring at my girl. And If she tell me you keep harassing her imma beat the shit outchu” Erik said slightly walking toward him. ‘Dave east�� turned around and walked away. “All we got is 11 and 13. “ Erik looked at jo “that’s fine mamas, I got some already. Thank you tho” jo looked at him “ so you telling me that you made me walk all the way ova he fah some shoes you already got? You deadass? Your total is $557.82” Erik smirked at her “I can’t get a thank you?” “Fah what?” Erik smiled real big “you see ya mans?” Jo looked around “what you say to him?” She said as her eyes lit up “I told him to stop talking to you and he left” jo raised an eyebrow “I know you lying but thank you” she held her hand out, Erik looked her up and down “ what?” He asked “give me yo money, hoe” jo said with an attitude. Erik sucked his teeth and gave her his card. “Declined” “WHAT!” “I’m just fucking witchu. Enjoy your day, sir!” “You play to fucking much” Erik mumbled as he walked out the store.

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now. 

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner.��

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. 

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. 

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. 

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” 

“6.” Austin corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” 

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. 

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.” 

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. 

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. 

The doors were kicked in. 

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. 

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. 

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” 

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. 

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. 

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. 

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. 

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. 

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!” 

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. 

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. 

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. 

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. 

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. 

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. 

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” 

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. 

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. 

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. 

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” 

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. 

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. 

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. 

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. 

And falling. 

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared. 

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” 

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? 

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. 

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. 

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. 

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. 

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. 

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. 

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. 

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. 

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. 

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.  

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. 

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. 

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. 

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. 

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. 

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” 

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. 

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” 

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. 

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer. 

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. 

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” 

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. 

You handed the gun back to Dutch. 

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!” 

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. 

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. 

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. 

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. 

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” 

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. 

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. 

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. 

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. 

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. 

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. 

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” 

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black. 

[5lazarus]

A random prompt for you: "It was a dark and stormy night"

I was at the party ranting about catabasis narratives, wine glass in hand, and somebody walked up to me and handed me a pomegranate. “Fuck you,” I said. But it did its job. I put down the wine glass, or handed it vaguely to someone, and headed to the kitchen. There I began abusing the pomegranate, to make it give up its secrets. “Nature’s treasure box,” I said happily. “Leave me to die in hell.”

Someone stirred: a man, washing his hands at the kitchen sink. I blinked. I was too drunk and not drunk enough to make small talk. “You okay?” he asked. I presented the pomegranate. “Ah, catabasis,” he said understandingly. “I’ll leave you to it.” A rush of love for humanity swept me as he left. The friend hosting the party was a recovered classicist and repentant Maoist. They had the most interesting friends. I took a handful of pomegranate seeds and stuffed them in my mouth. The juice ran red and a few missed my mouth, but still I chewed. Tangy-sweet: like all of life, all emotion is wrapped up in a mouthful of flavor. I knew that this didn't quite make sense but I was pleased with the wave of sentiment that swept me. “Catabasis,” I said, and wiped at my eyes. I surveyed the bloody juice staining the counter. “Iphigenia,” I pronounced, and left. Someone handed me a wad of clean toilet paper as I stumbled through the hallway towards another room; it clung to my hands. “Bruh, you’re super fucked up,” a kindly stranger said. “Drink this.” They pulled me into a circle, where a fervent discussion over the rights and wrongs of 1921 was being hashed out. “Iphigenia,” I added helpfully. “A sacrifice knowingly met.” I drank the water and passed the blunt and settled happily into the scene. Three members of the cadre sat around me. The kindly stranger had the classic bisexual haircut and the classic bisexual septum piercing, but was otherwise remarkable. They were the only one close to sober, and kept an eye on their phone. The others were arguing. One wore a moustache and goatee similar to Comrade Trotsky, and was dressed in all black--black t-shirt, black jeans, black Nikes. I wanted to ask where the rest of black bloc was, but only mumbles came out, which was good because the joke probably wouldn’t have gone over well. The other wore a green cap with a red star and was chewing the end of the blunt. “Tell me one example of an actually existing socialist government led by Trotskyists,” Red Star said. “Come on. I’ll wait.” “The USSR would not have survived World War Two without Trotsky heading up the Red Army,” Comrade said instead. Even I was aware this did not actually answer Red Star’s question. “You can say that any existing socialist government exists due to his contribution to the USSR--and with no thanks to fucking Stalin.” “Yooooooo,” I intoned. I was ignored. The Kindly Bisexual handed me a bowl of popcorn. I took a fistful and began to lap the popcorn up. They shifted away from me slightly. I really needed to sober up. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Red Star said. “So Trotsky made some military contributions--sure. We can’t deny that.” “Some?” Comrade said incredulously. “He fought a war on five fronts!” He put his hand in front of Red Star’s face. Clearly I was not the only one who needed to sober up. “One: the White Army. Two: the--” “Don’t you ever get tired of relitigating twentieth century debates?” Red Star asked. “And get your hand out of my fucking face.” “Comrades!” the Kindly Bisexual hurriedly interrupted. “Look, it’s raining!” We all turned to the window, and I smiled. I loved the rain, especially when I was crossfaded. Indeed, not only was it raining--it was pouring, beginning with a low rumble and rising into a lash against the glass. Lightning cracked suddenly across the sky, flashing us blue. Red Star jumped. “A dark and stormy night,” I exclaimed happily. I clasped my hands together joyously, crunching kernels between my palms. “Who even are you?” Comrade said. “Good fucking question,” I said. “I’m not sure.” I looked at the Kindly Bisexual, who I decided was responsible for my welfare tonight, because clearly they were the voice of reason in this room. “Let me ask my handler.” “Yo, what?” Red Star said. I giggled. “Nice try, FBI.” I made finger guns at them, pushed myself up to my feet unsteadily, and wandered off to the living room. The Catabasis Man was sitting on the couch, eating pomegranate seeds out of a bowl. A group of anonymous leftists sat at his feet, facing the television. They were watching The L Word. I slid next to him. “Out of the earth?” I asked. “I have been reborn,” he agreed. “You good?” “I don’t know who I am,” I said. “But the rain is a good sign.” “Right,” he said. “I think you should eat something.” He got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving me morose. I wrapped my arms around my legs. “These are not my lesbians,” I said sadly. “Shut up,” said someone on the floor, so I did and walked off again, this time in search of more food. The pomegranates and the popcorn were sitting unsteadily in my stomach, and I needed a less buttery carb. I returned to the bedroom with the Kindly Bisexual and the twentieth-century Marxists. “Fuck you,” the Comrade was saying. “You think I’m a plant? This is clear revisionism.” “Yo,” the Kindly Bisexual said. “What?” Comrade pointed at Red Star. “This is clearly COINTELPRO tactics, with cheap talking points too. Try to sound a little less like an alt-right troll account, Comrade Stalin.” “I’m a Maoist,” Red Star snarled. Thunder rolled. I giggled nervously, and was ignored. “Fuck this shit, man! Stop this copjacketing bullshit.” Red Star turned to the Kindly Bisexual. “You see this shit? You see this shit? Callin’ me a plant? That’s cop shit.” “Uh,” the Kindly Bisexual said. “I think yall need to chill.” “Spiderman points at Spiderman,” I exclaimed happily. I could envision it so easily: just the Spiderman meme, but with one of them with a goatee photoshopped onto the mask, and the other wearing Mao’s red star. It was great. It was great to look at a real-life meme. Comrade crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, it’s not copjacketing when you’re actually a cop. How do we know you’re real? You probably got that hat off Amazon.” “There’s no ethical consumption under late capitalism,” Red Star growled. “Fuck off. You Trots are all the same. Trying to split the party--that’s the real reason why you crazies have never had a successful revolutionary front since 1917, you start the wild accusations and then there’s what! A cult of just two, handing out newspapers at Union Square. Then charging you a dollar when they shove it into your hand.” “Oof,” I said. “Yeah, yeah,” Comrade said. “How’s fundraising for the People’s War of Williamsburg going? I heard you got good turnout for your membership drive at the New School. Soon enough, you’ll have enough people to build yet another base in some swamp. And leave pig heads in front of libraries and some shit.” “We are not affiliated with Red Guard,” Red Star said testily. “And the pig head, well, things are different in Texas.” “Yeah yeah,” Comrade said. “We know all the pig heads were some cop shit. Like who else can end up that much of a parody of themselves?” “You grew the goatee on purpose?” Red Star asked. “Or just to fit in?” The Kindly Bisexual claimed their hands. “Right, okay. I think we’ve all demonstrated enough insider knowledge of the blessed disaster we call the US Left. No more calling each other cops, okay? Because yall are too fucked up, and when I told the SC that I’d be a community steward, this is not what I thought my first case would be.” I thought that sounded vaguely carceral, but at this point sobriety was creeping cold and clear, and kept my tongue fuzzily still. “Urgh,” I said instead. “Anyone got a cigarette?” We all went outside for a smoke. The rain stilled to a mild drizzle. Streetlights made the dirty pavements shine, and I scuffed my shoe against a patch of old gum that had probably been there since all these people moved to Brooklyn. The Kindly Bisexual had the cigarettes, but nobody else had a light, so I found an old lighter I had picked up the last time I was driving home to Tennessee, in a Waffle House outside Murfreesboro. I had forgotten it had a Confederate flag on it. “What the fuck,” the Kindly Bisexual said flatly. “No!” I protested. “Shit. No. I-I just, I’m from Tennessee. Stole it from some guy in a Waffle House.” I hadn’t, I had just swiped it from the counter after I paid, but they didn’t need to know that. “I ain’t--no. No.” “You’re faking that accent,” Comrade accused. Red Star nodded next to him. Was this truly how the New York Left would be united? I was vaguely proud of myself. “No, I just codeswitch around middle class leftists from the North,” I said, annoyed. Comrade made a considering face: fair point. “On account of yall think my accent means I’m stupid. But let me show you the truth. I stole this from a Waffle House, and now it shall be destroyed!” Everyone watched as I threw it on the pavement, hoping it would shatter. It bounced instead. Red Star started to laugh. “Nah, that’s just stupid. Smash it! Smash it!” I slammed my foot down and then howled, because I was wearing flipflops and that hurt. “Motherfucker!” I wept. “Shit.” “Aight, I’m gonna try,” Comrade said. He jumped on it and slipped on the slick pavement, busting his ass. We all howled with laughter, even the Kindly Bisexual, who wiped their eyes--carefully, so as not to smudge their eyeliner--before offering him a hand up. “We have to be strategic about this,” Red Star said. “Let’s use that tree branch.” She grabbed a sizeable bow that must have fallen in the storm. She wielded it, lamppost casting a mad glow to her eyes. “Solidarity, yall!” “Solidarity!” we all echoed. She smashed it down, and we screamed in drunken glee as the plastic went flying. Red Star brandished the branch, grinning. Then we heard the sirens. Up the block, we saw the cop car on the corner, whirling its sirens. Some pig said something incomprehensible but threatening over the loudspeaker. “Shit,” I said. “I’m out.” We ran for it, laughing but anxious, all the way to the train station. We split up after the turnstiles. The others all lived deeper in Brooklyn, but I needed to head to Queens. I climbed up the stairs to the platform and sat down on the wooden bench, pushing anxiety about bed bugs out of my head. I saw the three of them across the tracks and waved. They were all laughing. Red Star was mimicking how she had dealt the killing blow. I waved, and the Kindly Bisexual saw me and waved back. They all looked my way. Their train pulled in and I saw them, brilliantly fluorescent, pile into the Coney Island-bound train. Red Star and the Kindly Bisexual spread out on the empty seats; Comrade grabbed a pole. I waved again, feeling lonely now. Comrade glanced over his shoulder and saw me, and they all waved again. The train pulled away, leaving me in the deserted station, and I thought: well, shit. Back to catabasis again.

[blackrosesfanfic]

Chapter 194

Cammie

Rollie falls back on the couch. "You letting April get the boys?"

"No." I snap.

"Shit. You passionate about that shit."

I cross my arms. "I just don't want to start it. What did you come over here for? That?"

"Me and Kirby just came."

"I don't see no damn Kirby."

"He on the phone."

Trey walks into the living room. He sits my phone down. "What's up?"

Rollie sits up reaching his arm out. "Shit. Just came through."

"Why you had my fucking phone that long?" I say unlocking it.

"April gonna take the boys."

I sit up. "Tremaine! Why the fuck would you do that?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "You know damn well as I do she gonna come here and sweet talk your ass into letting them go. Why fight it? She not coming until tomorrow."

"You already told her yes?"

"I didn't. I'm about to."

I wanted to fucking kick him. "What did you have my phone for?"

"You gonna get the boys ready?"

"No." I snap.

"Jayla, at least pump some extra milk."

I sit back in the chair. "Oh you need me for that but you don't need my fucking permission to fucking send my boys away?"

Trey starts walking out the room. "Sure as hell don't need your permission to do shit with our kids. Our."

"Leave me the fuck alone." I spat. "Bitch ass."

"Yeah." he says walking on out of the room.

I kick the chair. I thought I would at least have his fucking support in the decision to send my children off. I don't fucking want to do it. I look at the number calling me then I sit up really fast to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Cammie. This is Kent. Are you doing well?"

I shrug. "Yeah. How are you?"

"I am doing okay. Listen I know you just had your baby but I'm against the wall here. One of my dancers can't perform. What I'm asking is will you be out of recovery in time enough to be my main dancer?"

"I'm not understanding you. I'm not in recovery. My son is months old. So what exactly are you saying?"

"I need to know if you are willing to be my main dancer on Dancing with the Stars."

I jump up. "Of course! That's what you want?"

"Yeah. Now do you have a choreographer already in mind to replace you? I could..."

"Yes, I have one! O my gosh."

He exhales. "Sounds amazing."

"You telling me. I... Thank you, Kent."

"No problem. I'll be contacting you shortly with the dates. Things will change only a bit. You know photos and things. Interviews and commercials."

"Yes. Okay."

"Take care."

I fall back on the couch then I call MiMi. "Bae, the fucking game done changed."

"Like fucking fucking?"

"You bullshitting me."

She sucks her teeth. "I thought you had some make the sex great again advise."

I roll my eyes. "So guess who gonna be a main dancer on Dancing with the Stars and guess who gonna be here choreographer."

"You? No for real, Cammie." She retorts.

"Yes, me! And you!"

MiMi sighs. "I'll see you when I come kiss your toes. Clean them up for me."

I laugh. "Bae, for real though."

"Dee! Cammie gonna be a main dancer now! Yeah."

"Umm... You know this means we both have to be in California?"

"California?" She says like she never heard of it.

I jump in. "California. For like months bae."

"Who gives a fuck?"

"So now is a great time to start seeing less of your baby little by little." Rollie says.

I fall back down. "This nigga fucked up my mood. How about Trey going to decide it's his fucking fatherly right to send my children wherever he wants."

"And what can you say that ain't gonna cut him deep?"

"Exactly. I'm over the shit. He doing it cause he mad that I was talking shit about those damn rumors."

"I mean though. Those are some pretty harsh things to over look. Bitch, describing details and that video looks a bit convincing. Bestie, you letting his ass be mad about that?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm trying not to fight with him. You know he has to leave tomorrow and he always gets bitchy."

She laughs. "So true... Anyway! You got good news!"

"Right!"

"Bae, I'm about to be on TV."

I chuckle. Trey walks into the room. I stand up. "I'm going with you to Texas."

"No. You not fucking going with me."

"Who the fuck are you to just tell me? I don't know what your fucking problem is."

He turns around walking away. "Right now you. I'm not doing this shit with you."

"Who the hell you gonna do it with then? Fuck bitch."

"Shut the fuck up, Cammie."

I kick the table then sit down. "What the hell?"

"Was that Trey?" MiMi asks.

"Yeah."

"Yo, how the fuck you let him talk to her like that?" Kirby snaps by the door.

Rollie looks away from TV slowly. "He didn't touch her."

Kirby was livid. "The fuvk nigga? I know you playing the cool brother and shit with your brother in law but you too fucking chill."

"Bitch, you go fuck with it." Rollie says looking at TV. "I stay to myself."

"Oh really though." I snap.

He chuckles. "Leave me alone. Go fix your marriage."

"Fuck him." I say. "MiMi call me back."

"I'm coming over."

"K."

 Trey

I walk into my bedroom from the bathroom. Lane is stretched out on the floor playing with his tablet. Any other time this would be fine. Him sitting down being quiet is rare. But this instance he is supposed to be doing what I told him.

"Lane!"

He jumps. "Daddy?"

"Go get your mama."

"Go get Mommy?"

"Yes. Tell your mother to come here."

He stares at me. Knowing Lane he is trying to decide whether or not he is going to listen to me. He says something unrecognizable than he says mommy and start running out of the room. Damn I hope both boys aren't bad.

"Mommy said no." he pouts.

"Why?"

He stares at me for a minute. "Mommy not listening. Mommy said no."

"Go get her Lane."

"Mommy mad."

As I'm watching him he shrugs his shoulders. So is he telling me he doesn't know why she mad? Why the hell am I relying on a 2 year old to get shit done. I reach for him before I start talking. He was expecting it and he turns around quickly but falls. I pick him up off of the floor and sit him down on the sink. He going to see his grandma so he needs a fresh haircut. He hits my hand. I put his arms down by his side. He kicks me as I start brushing his hair. Little rat. I put the clippers down then get in his face. He is not intimidated a bit. He takes the brush then he starts brushing my hair. I stop him when he reaches for the clippers.

"Fuck no boy." I say popping his hand.

"Ouch." he says then springs forward.

I try my damnest to catch the fool before he hits the ground. I look down expecting to help him off the floor. This boy runs out of the bathroom full speed. I sigh. The fucking truth is that I'm ashamed to fucking go in the other room after I showed my ass for no reason. I rather be a bitch alone then in front of everybody. But Cammie not coming and Lane not gonna push the issue. I don't blame a 2 year old. He smart.

"That bullshit, Trey!" Lane shouts.

"Daylan!" I snap walking into the bedroom.

He was gone. I sigh then walk out into the hallway. I wish I could call Ma and tell her to tell Cammie to come here. But Cammie mad at everybody. I realized after I put my foot in my mouth that she is going to be alone tomorrow. Take her kids and leave town. That's mighty fucked up of me.

"Jayla." I say low trying to only get her attention.

"What you say fuck boy?" Kirby retorts loudly.

I turn to face only Cammie. "Jayla."

"Bae. I'm so fucking excited. You think they for real?" MiMi asks walking in the room.

"Yeah." Cammie says dryly.

"Fucking buzz kill." MiMi says taking Minnie. "That bit couldn't change you, stank? Sitting there smelling you like it's cute."

Cammie crackles a smile. "I swear she wasn't stank in my lap."

"How you know with Trey all in your damn nostril?"

"There go Mommy." Lane says running up to Cammie.

Cammie snatches her phone from him. "How do you even know the password? Oh... Hey, Ma."

"You sound so dead to be having good news." April says.

"Well you coming to take my babies and..." She cuts her eyes at me then she rolls them.

"Tremaine, why are you being weird? Just call me back. Damn, annoying asses always flip flopping." the phone goes black.

I kneel down in front of Cammie. "Just come talk to me."

"Tremaine if you got something to say then say it. I don't feel like going back and forth with you. You said your peace earlier."

"What the fuck you mean?" I snap on accident.

"Nigga really?" she spats back tilting her head at me.

We all kinds of fucked up. I forgot who mad at who and who should apologize. I stand up.

"Say whatever the hell you got to say. I can take whatever."

"This not even about what I got to say. Why you so willing to hear my bullshit suddenly?"

I shrug. "If it fucking rocks your boat."

"What?" she says standing up. I try to wrap my arm around her waist. "Don't even."

"The fuck?" I say pissed at the level she went to to avoid my touch. Its not that fucking necessary.

"You know what Tremaine." she says putting her hand on her hip. "I sit around here listening to bullshit having to have the fucking skills of fucking Sherlock Holmes to figure shit out. You would think my fucking husband would take the damn time to tell me what's what. Fuck no! I'm tired of feeling like the fucking secret agent that has to sneak around and try not to hurt your fucking feelings. Gotdamn it." she says throwing her hands up. "I'm not some fucking stalker ass bitch who you don't want to know your every move. I'm your fucking wife and I sure as hell am not playing no other role no more. So the next time you think I might have heard a rumor you better come fucking talk to me your gotdamn fucking self. So then I can tell other people... Oh yeah he told about that already. And fuck you for thinking I want to follow your ass because of some damn video I saw a year ago! Yes bitch I already know you fucked her and when."

I sigh and walk away. Well damn.

"What?" MiMi says standing at the hall bouncing the baby. "What was all of that?"

"Looks like Cammie came through right quick." Rollie says chuckling.

MiMi sucks her teeth. "Repeat what happened."

"She said too much." Rollie snaps. "Blah Blah blah... Pick your face up."

"Rollie you not shit." MiMi says.

"Shut up." Cammie snaps.

I start to walk into the bedroom. Lane was standing in the hall holding his dick in his hand. I stop and stare at him trying to figure out what going on. I shrug.

"What are you doing?"

"A bug!" he points.

I go to him and grab his arm. "Boy, go fucking pee in the other bathroom."

He runs down the hall. "Awh!"

"Lane!" I say. Fuck it.

"What?" Cammie retorts.

I look back at her. "I don't fucking want you anymore."

She raises her eyebrows. "So we single?"

"What the fuck?" I snap sitting on the bed. "What the fuck is your problem? You want that?"

"You the one walking around with fucking secrets and attitudes. What you want me to think?"

"I don't fucking know."

She shrugs then starts to walk out. "Very fucking well."

I don't know what that means but my heart feels weak as shit like it means it's the end. I stand up from the bed.

"Jayla, if you felt like that..."

"Tremaine!" she snaps spinning around. "I didn't think nothing until you blew up on me about your fucking outside shit and me fucking wanting to go somewhere with you. You fucking act like I've been following you around and you tried of the shit. You even sent my sons away like I fucking did something to you."

I'm just picking at an open wound and don't know how to stop it. In no way do I want my Jayla feeling like she the bitches from my pass. I don't fucking know. I sit back down now that she has stopped. Lane runs into the room now completely naked dragging his pajamas. The environment can't even continue to be tense with this little man around.

"A bug."

"The pajamas?" I reply.

He had some damn bugs on his fucking pajamas. So when I asked what he was doing his answer should have been putting on my pajamas. Not yelling about a bug and running down the hall. I look at Cammie. She was watching him. I walk over to her. Can we try this again?

"I'm not trying to..."

"I don't care about your efforts."

I start to snap at her but I kiss her cheek. "I would love for you to come with me tomorrow. We haven't done anything together in a while. We haven't been alone... I don't remember how long."

"Keep talking cause that's only the surface."

"Bullshit." Lane says throwing the pants.

"Lane, stop saying bullshit. Go get some draws then I'll help you." Cammie barks.

Lane shakes his head. "I don't know."

I step between Cammie and Lane. He was putting his shirt on ignoring Cammie. If the boy wants to put on clothes without draws that's his problem. Cammie was back to her attitude. I get closer to her. She pushes me stepping away from me at the same time.

"Sex not solving this."

"Sex? Ba... What? Who trying to fuck you?"

She steps back more. "You can talk away from me."

"Damn..."

"Damnit." Lane giggles.

Cammie glances at him. "Let me get the belt."

I glance back at him. He had a smile on his face. "For Daddy. Daddy bad."

"Can we make up now because I'm over this. Either I go with you or I'm going out of town by myself." Cammie says about to walk out.

"Where you going if we making up?"

She doesn't let me touch her. "No, I'm serious. No makeup x."

Lane screams. We both look his way. He had successfully put both legs in the pants. He pulls them up twisted to the side. He was satisfied even with that. I'm surprised they are on the right way. I look back at Cammie. She was gone. I step into the hallway.

"What's your news?" I yell.

"I mean I'm kinda rich." Rollie shrugs. "Not your rich. I will have my name in a movie?"

I shrug. "Rollie man, I don't give a damn."

He throws his arms up. "You needed my news, brother."

"Lane." I say walking back in the room. "Let me cut your hair."

"No thank you." He waves.

"You not going to your grandma house tomorrow if you don't let me cut your hair."

"Nanma? Nanma Rose?"

I walk into the bathroom. "You not going to Grandma Rose's house tomorrow if I don't cut your hair."

"I want my hair."

"All of it?" I gesture to him. "Let me fix it then."

He walks so slow to me. "Damnit."

"Grandma Rose cut your butt for saying bad words."

"In church!" Lane says popping his butt then fake crying.

I laugh. "Grandma spank your butt in church?"

"Hug grandma." he says laughing.

"What are you talking about?"

He grabs the brush and brush his hair. "I go to grandma?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." he says happily.

[dovabunny]

Nobody Would Want to Dance with a Magic Ox

Click link above to read on Ao3 or read below under the cut.

Relationship: Adaar/Krem

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Rating: Teen

Characters: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi; Female Adaar; Female Inquisitor; The Iron Bull; Josephine Montilyet; Leliana; Dorian Pavus; Cullen Rutherford            

Tags: fictober18; cremquisitor;

Chapter: 1/1

Series: FicTober Ficlets

Summary: Adaar had always thought nobody would ever look at her and see beauty and strength in equal measure, that nobody could ever love her as she is. She always thought nobody would ever want to dance with her, especially not more than once. Maker, she has never been more happy to be right.

FicTober prompt ( from @barbex ): “I thought you would forget

Dragon Age Inktober prompt (from Dankou): Halamshiral

The result: this hot garbage.

Adaar shifted uncomfortably in the constricting fruity outfit they made her wear. For someone used to wearing Arishok armour while twirling a staff around at lightning speed, feeling like a stuffed nug in a frilly sock was...demeaning and embarrassing.

But they meant well, her advisors. Josie had practically bounced on her toes when first she saw Adaar in the Inquisition formal attire, calling her both ‘striking’ and ‘resplendent’. Whatever the fade that means. Leliana has smirked in that creepy I-can-murder-you-in-your-sleep-but-chose-not-to-you’re-welcome way of hers, speculating that the Inquisitor would be flooded with hopeful suitors. Cullen was the only one who grumbled along with her as they tugged and frowned at their outfits.

But standing here, on the balcony of the queen of Orlais’ home or whatever (Maker, Josie will kill her if she heard those thoughts), there was no sweeping compliments, no swooning suitors, and no friendly faces. There were masks and gossip, thinly-veiled insults and condescending giggles. No one cared that she had saved Briala’s ex-girlfriend and thereby saving the whole damn country from a bloody civil war. Oh no, they’d rather keep their distance from the 7ft grey giant with swooping black horns adorned in gold, long white hair braided to her butt, and the tell-tale scars around her red lips of where she had once been silenced.

Too big, too opposing, too ugly, too grey, too non-human, too...horny.

She allowed herself a stupid little giggle at that last bit.

Truth be told, very few things made her smile these days. Before Haven fell she had been a simple woman that found happiness in simple things - good food, a good fight, good ale, and good company was enough to have her grinning ear to ear with a flush on her cheeks. Being with Bull’s Chargers gave her that long lost sense of belonging. Around that lot of misfits she felt safe to be herself and let her guard down, they never judged only teased, and never talked in circles.

And then...there was Krem.

The first time she had seen the lieutenant, swinging a gigantic warhammer like it was a turkey leg, looking like the hero from one of Varric’s fantastic romance stories - she’d felt something strange twist in her stomach. It had taken her a long time to realise that twist was her having a ginormous crush on the man. But instead of being a decent adult about it, instead she blushed like a virgin maid about to get her V card stamped by Zevran Arainai, and running to hide whenever she saw him in fear that instead of words only garbled sounds would escape her. That actually did happen, three times, where she would drink that strong shit Iron Bull said could make you damn-near breath fire and grow a tail, until she felt brave enough to approach the handsome, strapping warrior standing on his chair like he was the king of the tavern….

...not knowing he was the king of her heart.

...holy fuck, did she really just think that? That’s good shit! She needs to give Varric some tips on writing romance, seems she’s a natural. But only in theory.

Each time she opened her mouth to say something smart or witty, to compliment that way he sweeps his warhammer low to knock enemies off their feet before spinning it up to slam back down crushing the skull of a Venatori. Or maybe she would compliment his choice of haircut? How he could burp words in Qunlat? It made no difference what she ‘planned’ on saying, because all that came out was “so-Ima-fyo-imean-notwha-hnggk…” right before she turned and all but fled the Tavern to go hide under the hay in the stables. If Blackwall saw her he never said a word. Good man that, seems honest and reliable.

Because of such profoundly mature and sophisticated behaviour one might come to expect of a person of her status and office - she had started to avoid Krem, the Tavern, and the Chargers. Heck, she even avoided being in Skyhold if she could. There would barely be a ‘welcome back, Inquisitor’ before there was a ‘let’s go get something to drink’ and then of course a ‘Boss! The chargers and I haven’t seen you in a while, ain’t that right, Kerem de-la Creme?’ and she’d be ‘I NEED TO GO TO THE HISSING WASTES’ -ing out of Skyhold before anyone could say ‘Dorian your mustache is looking marvelous for someone who had just arrived back at civilisation not ten minutes ago from the Fallow Mire’.

It was the last night before the Inquisition left Skyhold for Halamshiral that she decided to cave and go wallow in self-pity at Herald’s Rest, her forehead planted on the table she claimed for herself in the corner. She typically gave off quite a ‘keep your distance I am big and scary’ aura, even without the glowing arm, but tonight she was giving off plain old ‘fuck off’ vibes. Of course ‘vibes’ never meant shit if you’re the Iron Bull.

“Bummed about the upcoming party?” he cheerfully said in that warm gravelly voice of his. “It’s not that bad, boss. We’ll go, save the empress, scare some humans, have them kiss our asses, and then get our bellies full of fancy food and wine.” At her barely scoffed response, his voice went a little softer. “What’s this really about? You got a weak stomach for Orlesian Ham? Dorian claims it tastes of despair. Scared of masks? Can’t dance in red velvet?”

“Bull, if you don’t shut up and let me drink I’ll send that redhead in the kitchens to Redcliffe and there’ll be no more ‘strawberry shortcake’ for you. And yes I meant it like that.” Adaar snorted mirthlessly. “Besides, I’m a giant grey ox mage with fade power gifted by Andraste herself and more scars than they have hair. Nobody would want to dance with me…” She had said the words softly, whispering it to the wood on the table, not intending it to fall on any ears.

Especially not the beautiful ears of a handsome Tevinter warrior who looked at her with slight confusion and concern when she finally lifted her head.  

The inquisitor tugged at the tight collar, ripping a few seams so she could breathe. With not much else to do, she amused herself by watching the gardens below. The balcony was secluded enough to not draw the attention of other guests looking to step into the cool air but still wanting to bask in the festivities. And those seeking seclusion for ‘other’ reasons, well, she could see them behind various shrubbery and hedges from where she stood. She’ll commend them for their commitment, that’s for sure, for soldiering through removing so many layers of cloth and frill and belts and skirts before they get to smoosh the parts together they want to smoosh together. Maybe she should go call Cassandra...

As it were, she was so distracted that she completely missed the doors behind her open and close, as well as the steps towards her, till a not-so-subtle throat clearing had her whirl around, her long white braid whipping her in the face as she started with “I wasn’t looking at anything!” only to freeze.

“Inquisitor,” Krem greeted with a polite nod of the head. His hair neatly styled to the side (she suspected Dorian had a hand in that, literally), his uniform showing off his broad shoulders, strong arms, and soldier’s posture.

But that wasn’t what caused her breath to catch.

Stuck to his chest was a little scrap of paper with the word ‘Nobody’ written on it.

Krem smirked when he saw her stare at it. “I may have overhead you say ‘nobody’ would want to dance with you.”

Her eyes went wide as he took a step closer, his arms behind his back, all cool confidence and determination. “I… I thought you’d forgotten,” she said dumbly. But HEY at least it was words!

Krem’s smirk turned into a smile as he stopped in front of her and offered her his hand. “It would be very hard for me to forget you, my Inquisitor.” He extended one sinfully strong leg and gave a bow. “Now, would you be willing to dance with a nobody? Because nobody very much wants to dance with you.”

They couldn’t dance, neither of them, but heck if those kids didn’t care. Even as she towered over him, Adaar seemed to look up at Krem with stars in her eyes as he leads her in a swaying twirl around the balcony. They laughed and teased and danced, and her heart felt full.

Adaar had always thought nobody would ever look at her and see beauty and strength in equal measure, that nobody could ever love her as she is. She always thought nobody would ever want to dance with her, especially not more than once.  

Maker, she has never been more happy to be right.

[chibinightowl]

Ain’t No Shame

For Day Five of JayTim Week 2018 - Fake/Pretend Relationship

“Want to be my fake boyfriend?” Jason blinks, his sandwich raised halfway to his mouth as he stares at Tim. “What?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly. Admittedly it’s not the strangest thing his replacement has ever said to him but it still sends him for a loop. Tim gestures breezily, his own sandwich abandoned on his desk in favor of the coffee that Jason brought for him. They try to have lunch together every few weeks to shoot the shit and bitch about their respective family. It’s therapeutic. “Not that I don’t think you’d be great boyfriend material but there’s this one woman who’s been really on my case recently about my dating life.” “You mean lack of dating life.” Jason can’t help but laugh. Tim doesn’t date. At all. His last relationship ended two years ago with Tam Fox throwing a glass of champagne in his face at one of the biggest social events of the year and stalking off, never to be seen around Tim again. Tim mock glares at him over the rim of his thermos. “Like you’re one to talk.” “Ain’t no shame in my game,” Jason says around a mouthful of his sandwich. “You have no game.”

It’s sad but true. Like Tim has any room to talk though. “So why do I get to be the fake boyfriend then?” he asks instead of replying to Tim’s comment. Tim huffs a sigh, the force of which displaces his bangs from where they hang over his eyes. The young man is always in need of a haircut. “A number of reasons, really. First, she’s the daughter of a rather influential society maven who actually has brains to go with her money.” “That’s rare.” “Tell me about it,” Tim replies sourly. “But her mother has her set on a good match and apparently she’s set her sights on me. We’re pretty close in age.” His disgust at being called a good match is clear and makes Jason laugh again because this is just too funny. “So I need to be your arm candy in hopes of scaring her off by pretending to be bi?” It’s not a bad idea but they all know rich people are into some pretty kinky shit behind closed doors. Tim shrugs and finally picks up his sandwich. “That’s the hope. I already know she doesn’t like lesbians. She made a comment about Steph and Cass the last time they made an appearance together.” Jason makes a face at that. “Talkin’ shit about my two favorite gals? I already don’t like her.” “She was tolerable until that point,” Tim nods in agreement. “But I can’t just tell her off. I made a point to remind her that she was talking about my sister and one of my best friends. She apologized, but it was easy to see she didn’t mean it.” “Why can’t you tell her to piss off?” Tim sighs again. “Because I have a reputation to maintain. If I’m perceived as being difficult, then it makes it harder to do my job.” He gestures to the nice office they’re sitting in at WE. During the last year that they’ve been hanging out, it’s been a common complaint that no one at WE takes him seriously because of his age. At 23, Tim struggles with being acting CEO for the often absent Bruce and balancing college classes on top of his role as Red Robin.

A role Jason can’t help but notice Tim is letting slide more and more. Over the last few weeks in particular, he’s only heard Red on the comms maybe a half a dozen times. He settles a thoughtful eye on the young man. “Shit goin’ down here too?”

Tim runs a tired hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and quietly glares at his desk. “That’s putting it lightly,” he finally says. “I’d rather be going toe to toe with Killer Croc in a dark sewer than face the complete and utter bullshit that’s corporate America.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Tim takes a deep breath and looks up again, settling back in his chair. “So, fake boyfriend. It’ll help relieve some of my stress if you give me a hand.”

Jason pointedly rakes his eyes up and down the young businessman. Tim looks smart and professional in his suit, even if the tie is already at half-mast and his collar undone. But underneath the façade, and what’s probably a ton of concealer, he can see how tired Tim is. Those blue eyes that normally sparkle when he finds something funny are dull, with barely a glimmer of what Jason knows is a situation they should both be finding hilarious.

“Why the hell not?” he agrees. If anything, this will let him keep a better eye on the smaller bird. Sue him if all of this isn’t getting his mother-hen instincts going. “So, what’s the plan I know you’ve already got cooked up in that big brain of yours?”

“Well, since you asked…”

~*~*~*~

It starts simple enough. More public and frequent lunch dates. Trips to the office with coffee during the day. After a month, Tim has them go to a restaurant opening together where they get photographed for the first time. Jason makes it a point to always wear his reading glasses when they’re in public to help dispel any questions about his resemblance to a deceased Wayne adoptee.

There’s nothing complicated about things. They enjoy each other’s company and Jason enjoys the free meals. It’s also a great excuse to make sure Tim is eating too. Red Robin still isn’t on the streets much but the bags are starting to disappear from under his eyes and the gleam is returning when Tim finds something amusing so Jason takes that as a victory. He’s joked before that Tim is the least annoying of his brothers and it’s true. Really though, Tim is closer to him than any brother. Family has always been complicated for Jason and he’s found that he’s more comfortable with forming relationships of his own choice rather than those forced upon him by so-called familial bonds.

That’s what he tells himself at least as it also helps keep people at a distance.

The morning after their first dinner date, Jason’s awakened early by the ringing of his phone. He groans and fumbles for it, the only light in bedroom from the slit in his blackout curtains where he forgot to close it all the way and never bothered to fix it. The phone rings again, and Jason swipes at the screen without really seeing who it is. “Someone better be dead or dying,” he growls hoarsely into the device.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” Tim chirps in an overly cheerful greeting. “Did someone have a long night?”

Jason groans and rolls over onto his back, rubbing a hand absently over the bare skin of his stomach. “I didn’t go to bed until after five.”

“I thought you stayed in last night after dinner?” Tim questions, sounding slightly distracted now as he apparently starts pulling up reports to see why he would have been out. “Something about too much wine?”

“Yeah, I did. Just me and Jane Austen, having a grand old time.” Jason yawns and stretches. It’s too early, whatever the hell time it was. “Is there a reason you’re callin’ at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“It’s after ten. I waited.”

“Gold fucking star. So what is it?”

“Check your texts,” Tim replies. “We made the front page of the society section.”

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, but Jason grunts and does as he’s been asked. He’s long since learned that when it comes to dealing with Tim, sometimes it’s just best to humor him. Less painful that way.

Tapping on the link Tim sent, Jason squints at the screen, his eyes trying to adjust to the brightness. The picture doesn’t look too bad, actually. They were sitting close together, and his head was bent down to listen to whatever it was Tim had been saying. They’re even smiling, small unguarded smiles that any publication would probably pay through the nose for if it came from Tim Drake-Wayne, one of the most eligible bachelors in the US and probably the world.

“Okay, so we’re not caught with forks in our mouths,” he finally offers.

Tim laughs, that low little huff Jason knows means he’s more amused than he’s letting on. “It’s a great picture actually. Guess who’s already called me about it?”

It takes Jason a moment to remember. “What’s her face…Brittany?”

“Bree,” Tim replies. “Bright and early, left me a message demanding that I call her right away. Says we need to have a little chat about last night.” It’s clear what Tim thinks about that and Jason can’t help but laugh at the disgusted tone.

“You call her back yet?”

“No,” Tim says flatly. “I’m making her stew a little while longer.”

“Brave man. I’ll stop by WE later this afternoon with coffee and you can tell me how that goes. I’m going back to sleep.” Jason yawns pointedly and hangs up without waiting for a reply.

Later that afternoon, as promised, Jason waltzes into Wayne Tower with Tim’s afternoon sugar rush. He wonders if the young executive has realized he’s been sneaking him decaf for the last month and hiding it under an excess of sugar and creamer. The secretary waves him right in, a bright smile on her face as she winks at him while fielding a phone call.

Tim is also on the phone when Jason enters the office, closing the door securely behind him. He looks annoyed and is so very ready to be anywhere else but here, but he wordlessly takes the coffee from him and continues pacing around his desk, occasionally interjecting a comment here and there as he listens to someone yelling on the other end.

Jason has a pretty good idea of who that is, so he makes himself comfortable on the sofa and pulls an old paperback out of his jacket pocket, tuning out the escalating argument. He’s moved on to a precursor of Jane Austen’s works, a novel titled Evelina, and is deeply entrenched in it when Tim finally flops down in a disgusted heap next to him.

“Rough day?” he asks mildly.

“It’s been a good day until that call” Tim takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes.

“Bree?”

He nods. “Bree.”

Jason waits and puts his book away. It won’t take long for Tim to speak up.

“It’s working,” he finally says, his head resting on the back of the sofa with his eyes closed. “She kept going on about how she thought we had an understanding. The papers are full of speculation over who you are and what we are, so she’s feeling a little insecure about her place in my world.”

There’s an odd mix of amusement and disgust coming from Tim and Jason can’t help but laugh. “What place?”

“That’s what I said,” Tim replies. “She screamed at me and hung up.”

Jason laughs even harder and sits upright. “Well, that sounds like mission accomplished to me. I say we go out and celebrate tonight. I got a little gang war brewing in the Bowery that I need to put a stop to. Could use the company.”

But Tim is already shaking his head. “Not yet,” he disagrees. “Let’s give it a few more weeks and see what happens.” He cracks open a pale blue eye. “I could use the exercise though. Vent some frustration.”

“Cracking skulls and breaking kneecaps. Time honored coping mechanisms in this family.” Jason nods sagely.

“Amen.”

~*~*~*~

A couple weeks later, they’re having lunch at a little bistro in Old Town that Jason has grown to love. It’s close enough to WE that it’s easy to get Tim out of the office and walk there, with the added bonus of what passes for sunshine and fresh air in Gotham. Today, Tim is unusually quiet. Jason lets him be during the meal, but when the normally contained man starts fiddling with his spoon, he finally speaks up.

“You’re awfully quiet, Red. The board up your ass again or something?”

Tim makes a face and reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a folded piece of paper. “I wish.” He slides it across the table to Jason.

Picking it up, Jason grimaces as he reads the invitation to an upcoming charity event. “That’s a pretty invitation.” He sees where this is going. There’s only one reason why Tim would bring this up.

“It is,” Tim agrees. “And since it’s a Wayne event, my attendance is compulsory.” He levels a tired stare at Jason, who hands the paper back to him.

“Black tie event.” He can’t remember the last time he wore a tux.

“Yup.”

Jason waits, wanting to make him work for it. Tim finally quirks that little half smile of his that used to drive him nuts and slides a hand across the table to pick up his much larger hand. Long fingers rub soothing circles over bruised knuckles before he speaks. “Jason, will you go to the charity gala with me? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Well, that was more than he expects. “Sure, since you asked so nicely. I’m gonna need an Alfred-approved straightjacket, aren’t I?”

Tim’s eyes light up in a way that sends butterflies fluttering through Jason’s stomach. He swallows hard and reminds himself this isn’t real. But as they leave the restaurant, Tim nattering on about where he can get a quick fitting for his monkey suit, Jason can’t help but notice they’re still holding hands.

~*~*~*~

There’s a lot of things Jason doesn’t miss about life as a Wayne heir and this charity event certainly qualifies as one of them. Unlike other events though, he knows the majority of the funds donated tonight actually make it to where they’re needed rather than lining someone’s pocket. He sips at his champagne and does his job, standing tall and handsome next to Timothy Drake-Wayne as the shorter man schmoozes his way around the room.

Someone taps on his shoulder and Jason turns to see a grinning Dick Grayson behind him. He lets himself be pulled aside, Tim not saying a word, but he does get the play nice look before he’s left to the wolves.

“You know, there’s a word for what you’re doing tonight,” Dick says as he plucks the champagne out of Jason’s hands and replaces it with what he hopes is scotch or whiskey.

“Arm candy?” Jason retorts and takes a welcome sip at the darker liquor. It’s scotch. “Whoring myself out to the highest bidder?”

His brother laughs and slaps a hand on Jason’s broad shoulder. “I was going with the former,” he says. “Tim told me what’s been going on.”

Jason shrugs because it’s not like they’ve been keeping things secret. That would defeat the point actually. “Yeah, I’m just helping him out. I get free meals out of it and we all get the peace of mind knowing Tim is eating something other than protein bars at least once every 24 hours.”

“Alfred says thanks for that by the way.” Dick pauses and takes a sip of his own drink. “I also want to give you a heads up…you know who just arrived a few minutes ago. From the glimpse I saw, she’s dressed to kill.”

Jason laughs at that and downs the rest of the finger of scotch in one smooth motion. He hands the glass back to Dick. “Well, whaddya know? So am I.”

With that, he winks and makes his way back through the crowd to take up his position at Tim’s side again. Tim arches an eyebrow at him in question. Leaning down, Jason whispers in his ear. “Bree has entered the building. Dickie says she’s dressed to impress too.”

A small smirk graces Tim’s lips momentarily. “Game on.”

They weave in and out of different circles of people, Tim chatting up donors with a smooth aplomb that only comes from years of practice. Jason doesn’t mind hanging back in the slightest, the social maneuvering of everyone desiring to be seen with Tim making him laugh quietly to himself. He can just imagine how these people would bring up the encounter, relishing the chance to say they’d spoken with Tim Wayne. Maybe if he’d lived, this would be him standing here, doing his best to field questions with answers that mean absolutely nothing at all.

But if he’d lived, then Tim wouldn’t be here. Not like this at least.

His mind must have wandered a bit too much as Tim clenches the sleeve of his jacket tightly. “She’s coming,” he warns quietly.

Jason looks around and spots an absolute bombshell stalking towards them. Dressed to kill may have been an understatement as the brunette is stunning. Tasteful jewelry and a headful of large curls, the red sheath dress she wears reveals everything and nothing at the same time, the fabric clinging to curves that almost make Jason’s mouth water before he remembers she’s public enemy number one. “You didn’t tell me she’s hot,” he mutters back.

“Does it matter?” Tim glowers at him.

“No,” he replies glumly. “Let’s do this.”

The young heiress approaches them, her red lips smoothly sliding into a predatory smile as she greets Tim. “Hello, darling. Do you have a few minutes to spare? There’s something I’d like to speak with you about.”

Jason doesn’t miss that she pointedly pretends not to see him standing there at Tim’s side, his large hand resting on the small of his back.

Tim smoothly deflects her. “I believe I said everything that needed to be said a couple weeks ago. I’m quite happy with my current relationship.” He smiles up at Jason for good measure.

If looks could kill, Jason is positive he’d be a dead man for the second time in his life. He wants to laugh because this shit is just too funny. Tim doesn’t seem to think so though, his back tense under Jason’s hand.

“What relationship?” Bree retorts bitterly. “All the two of you ever do is go out to eat. You barely hold hands and never once did my PI catch you kiss.” She leans in close and Jason catches a whiff of a rather nice perfume. “I think this is all a sham. You’re trying to avoid commitment, Tim.”

Jason has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing this time because this chick just nailed Tim to perfection. Commitment phobe, thy name is Wayne, in all shapes and sizes.

Tim tries to keep his reply level and polite. “I can think of many couples who don’t go in for public displays of affection.”

“You did with Tam Fox. You’re comfortable with this man, but nothing in your body language screams couple like it did with her.”

Ouch. Jason will definitely grant that point to Bree because Tim and Tam were adorable together and everyone knew it.

“If we kiss, here and now, in front of all these people, will you leave my boyfriend and I alone?” The question comes out of nowhere and Jason’s mouth dries at the thought of locking lips with Tim. Not that he hasn’t wondered what it would be like, especially of late, but this isn’t quite how he thought (hoped) it would happen.

Bree does not look happy at the offer. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re as straight as I am, Tim, for all that you’re playing around trying to prove your point and get back at me for what I said about your sister. I already apologized for that.” She bats her eyes prettily at the last part.

“I never claimed to be straight,” Tim replies, his voice starting to grow dark with anger. It’s bordering on his Red Robin voice, which makes Jason rub soothing circles over Tim’s back to wordlessly calm him down. No one needs to find out something they shouldn’t, not here and not because of this woman.

Just like the mini-Bat he is Tim chooses action over inaction. He turns and smoothly wraps his arms around Jason’s neck in a move that speaks of long practice and ease rather than the first time. Jason tries to keep the surprise from his face as he settles his other hand on Tim’s narrow waist. “Sorry about this,” he whispers as he rises up on his toes.

“Don’t be,” Jason manages to reply before he’s robbed of his voice by Tim’s lips settling over his. He tries to keep it chaste and clean considering their venue and the people surrounding them who have all been surreptitiously listening into the brewing argument but his will is quickly overpowered as Tim surges forward, licking into his mouth like this will be the only chance he has. Jason lets himself be devoured and tries to reciprocate when Tim attempts to withdraw. He didn’t realize until now just how badly he wants this, wants all of this to be real.

When they finally pull apart, it’s with a number of shorter presses of their lips, neither one of them willing to be the one who ends it.

Jason takes a deep breath when he finally withdraws, winded as though he just finished a wild chase through the streets of Gotham. He takes a small amount of solace in the fact Tim does the same, with a look of utter amazement in his icy blue eyes.

A small round of applause interrupts their contemplation of each other and they abruptly jerk away from each other in surprise. Looking around, Bree is no longer there, but Dick is, grinning larger than life.

“About time,” is all he says before disappearing back into the crowd.

“What?” Jason tries to ask but Tim grabs him by the arm and leads him away, graciously accepting compliments from a few well-wishers as they make their way outside and onto a balcony.

Tim closes the door behind them and leans against it, eyes to the ground as he sorts himself out. That’s fine as Jason’s feeling a bit outside the norm too.

“What just happened?” he finally asks after Tim stays silent for too long.

Laughing eyes meet his, the dull gleam that’s been all too prevalent for months vanished in the blink of an eye. “I think Dick just won a bet.”

“What?” Jason growls, taken aback as this is not anywhere near what he expects the other man to say. He wishes he’d been able to sneak a grapple gun under his jacket as he just wants to be gone from here. “A bet? Is this a fucking joke?”

But Tim’s already holding his hands up and backtracking. “Wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t actually find out about the bet until yesterday.”

“Tim,” Jason says warningly. “Spit it out.”

“I like you,” Tim replies, crossing his arms and still blocking the doors leading back into the hotel ballroom. “I have for a long time but never thought you liked me the same way. Until tonight.”

“You like me,” Jason parrots back. “What is this, high school?”

Tim shrugs, the movement accentuated by the fine cut of his tuxedo. “I have for years, Jason. Years. But I’m also perfectly happy finally having the chance to just be your friend. That alone took us forever.”

Touché. It’s been over five years since Jason last tried to kill Tim. That first year back in Gotham was rough on all of them. “So what was all this then?” he asks, still feeling on the defensive.

“A chance I never expected to have,” Tim replies softly. “The whole thing with Bree was real. As was my request for you to act like my boyfriend for a few months. I didn’t think something like this would happen tonight. I really didn’t. I figured we’d act the couple for a few more weeks and then just drift apart and go back to our usual.”

Jason gets the distinct feeling that’s the last thing Tim wants to do but that he would because he’s not the type to force feelings on someone when it’s clearly not returned. So what does he want then? The thought of going back to their normal routine isn’t something he relishes the thought of. At all. But there’s still the bet.

“What’s the bet, Timmy?”

Tim swallows bravely. “It’s between Dick, Steph, and Cass. Since we started fake dating, they’ve been betting on when it would turn into real dating.”

That’s not too bad actually. He can deal with this. “And you just found out about this yesterday?”

The other man nods.

Jason walks forward, keeping his scowl firmly fixed in place. Tim needs to sweat a little and from the deep breath he’s taking as Jason looms over him, it’s working. “So, is there anything you want to ask me then?”

It takes a moment for Tim to understand. He sags against the door in relief before standing upright again. “Jason, will you go out with me? For real this time.”

Jason raises a hand and runs the tip of his fingers over Tim’s cheek, ghosting them down onto his thin lips. “I suppose so. One thing though.”

“What’s that?” Tim breathes, a warm puff of air against his skin.

“I don’t put out until after the third date.”

Tim groans and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, nuzzling the skin above the stiff collar. “What do I need to do to change your mind?”

[eryiss]

Gambler’s Luck: Chapter Fourteen

Summary: A drunken night at a bar; that’s how it always starts. A few shots, some self loathing and a decision you would never make when sober. But for Laxus Dreyar, the morning after doesn’t include regret, copious amounts of aspirin and a stranger in his bed. For he only made one drunken decision, becoming the personal driver for professional gambler - Freed Justine. [Fraxus Multi-Chap]

You can read it on FanFiction, Archive of Our Own or under the cut. You can also catch up using the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy ^.^

Chapter Fourteen – The Meeting Point

Looking outside, Laxus had to wonder if fate really was directly influencing his life. A heavy rainstorm was battering down on the paved streets of Magnolia, forcing everybody unlucky enough to be outside to hide under thick coats and umbrellas in a weak attempt to keep themselves dry. Moments ago, Laxus and Cana had been part of that group, before they retreated into a roadside café, sat themselves at a window-side table and removed their sodden coats. As Laxus rather forlornly looked out of the window, Cana had walked to the counter and was ordering them both a drink and something to eat.

To say Laxus had a busy day was an understatement. As instructed, Makarov had organised a meeting for him and his mother on the fourth of august, the same day he was going to a masquerade party with Freed. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but, as he sat in the café thirty minutes before his mother was scheduled to arrive, Laxus considers the possibility that his scheduling might have been a mistake.

That's what happens when you're stubborn, he supposed.

Drawing his gaze from the rain-soaked streets, he looked towards Cana. She claimed that she'd only joined him because Mira was busy, and she wanted something to do, but Laxus anticipated she was actually there for moral support. He was thankful for it, but he would only admit that if Cana admitted her reasoning for coming first.

"Here," Cana said, placing two large mugs of coffee, one black while the other filled with cream, on the table. "You owe me six dollars, got you a tuna melt as well."

"Thanks," Laxus nodded, picking up the cream filled coffee. "I'll get it to you later."

"You ain't gonna call me cheap?" Cana looked towards him with a slight amount of confusion, though it was mixed with amusement. "So, either I need to crank up my demands and make you pay for my next haircut 'cause you wouldn't be a gentleman and give me your umbrella which screwed up my hair, or you're actually nervous about this."

Laxus looked up from his steaming coffee with a slight amount of amusement in his eyes, before he smirked. "Wasn't my fault you didn't check to see if it was raining before you left your place."

"And it wasn't my fault you're an asshole," Cana retorted with an equal smirk.

Laxus shrugged, his smirk slowly turning back to a neutral expression as he sipped at his coffee. He supposed that he was nervous, for more reasons than one. Not only was he meeting with his mother for the first time since they'd argued in front of his apartment, which meant there'd defiantly be a lot of tension between them when she eventually arrived, but he'd also been wrestling with his feelings with Freed.

Again.

It was just as taxing, confusing and aggravating as before. And later that day, he was going to a party with the damn guy. Needless to say, the result of his poor scheduling had his mind in a less that clear place.

He looked up absently as a waiter brought two plates from the back room towards them, handing Laxus a tuna melt and Cana a BLT. Cana thanked the server while Laxus picked up his food and took a large bite. He coughed around the mouthful after Cana kicked him under the table, glaring at him. He quickly swallowed his bite and looked towards the waiter.

"Thanks," Laxus muttered, nodding.

After the man claimed it was no problem and walked away, Laxus picked up his meal again and took another bite. As he glanced up, he saw Cana looking at him with inquisitive and almost analysing eyes, which made him sigh to himself. He and Cana, despite what an observer may think after seeing the two of them together, were pretty close friends, so it was understandable that she might be worried about him. But he couldn't help but get somewhat annoyed by the expression, he wasn't a kid who needed his friends looking after him. And anyway, the only person who could pull that expression off in Laxus' opinion was Freed.

He quickly tried to shake his boss out of his mind. He didn't want to think about Freed until the meeting with his mother was over; there was only so many ridiculous issues that he could deal with at one time.

Eventually, Cana must have gotten bored by trying to get a sense of Laxus' emotions. She picked up her over-stacked sandwich and began to eat it, though her eyes continually looked towards Laxus whenever she thought he wouldn't notice. After a few moments, Laxus started to get annoyed by the lack of subtlety, so placed his food down and leant on a fist.

"What?" He grunted, watching as Cana also put her sandwich on its plate.

"Just wondered how you're feeling," Cana didn't seem deterred by the attitude of her companion. Instead, she had a slightly compassionate expression. "Like, I don't know, are you nervous or excited or whatever?"

"Nervous, I guess," Laxus sighed, cupping one hand around his coffee and gently tapping his fingers against the cup. "I feel like it's just gonna end up biting me on the ass, y'know. Like, we'll end up yelling again or something, I don't know. Guess I'm just worried that yelling is all we can ever do with each other, like that's it. That make any sense?"

"Yeah, I get that," Cana grinned. "But try not to go in thinking like that. You don't wanna ruin it by being a pessimistic asshole."

Laxus chuckled a little, picking up his coffee again and taking a large gulp of it. He knew she was right, annoyingly, and that it was very possible that he could sabotage their meeting by assuming that it would end badly. He wasn't entirely to blame for having such a reaction, though. Given his past experiences with his mother, none of which seemed to end well if his memory served him correctly, it was fair that he entered the situation with some reserved pessimism. He didn't voice this, however, and instead started to eat his tuna-melt again.

With a small smile, Cana looked back to her own food. They ate in silence, though it was gentle enough for neither to feel awkward. The soft chatter of the café's other customers helped them, and it gave Laxus the effect that he had wanted. If nothing else, it would be unlikely he and his mother would get into a screaming match, for no other reason than not making a scene.

"You know, a couple months ago, I would have had to force a couple scotch's down your throat to get any emotions out of ya," Cana teased again. "You're growing up. So proud."

"Fuck off," Laxus grinned a little. "And I guess it's because I'm around Freed a lot more. No point in being cagey around someone who knows when you're lying."

Cana chuckled and nodded, though was quietly shocked by the flippancy of Laxus' words. Although she had said it in jest, it was true that, once, Laxus had been reliant on alcohol to take himself into a vulnerable state. The fact he was admitting things that previously would have gone unspoken only months before, and acknowledging the change openly, was a bit of a shock to the brunette. A good one, though.

"Speaking of your boss, you're going to a party with him tonight, right?" She continued, smiling. "Looking forward to it?"

"Yeah, I am actually," Laxus nodded slightly, not realising a small reddening had occurred on his cheeks. "Just glad to be doing something that ain't about my mom, you know. Glad to have a break from it, something that ain't stupidly dramatic."

"I get that," Cana nodded, taking another bite out of her BLT. "Mira helped you out with the suit, right? So even if your night craps out, least you'll be looking good."

The reddening on his cheeks got a little more obvious, although thankfully for a different reason than before; he never had been all that good at taking compliments. Cana laughed at him when she saw the expression, something which he tried not to focus on as it would inevitably lead to further blushing. It was a harsh cycle.

He was just thankful the conversation was drifting away from Freed again, because he knew that Cana would approach that subject with as much subtlety as a hungry dog eating a freshly cooked steak; it wasn't the best simile, but the point remained that she wouldn't exactly be calm if she found out about his potential feelings. In fact, she would be insufferable, and he really wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with the amount of teasing the occasional-drunkard could give out.

"Guess so. Tell her I'll make it up to her, since it took longer than we thought," Laxus said, taking the last bite out of his sandwich.

"Doubt you need to. She said it was nice having an afternoon with you. Don't see it myself, you're an ass to be around," Cana grinned. "Although, you took her away from me for like half a day, so I think you should make it up to me. Compensation for the lack of girlfriend time."

"Girlfriend time? What are ya, fifteen?" Laxus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You see each other all the time anyway, what's one afternoon?"

Glancing up again, Cana had the smallest of smiles on her face. She knew that Laxus had intended to tease her – and admittedly, the two of them did spend a lot of time with each other – but it didn't land as intended. It simply reminded her that she wanted to spend every afternoon with Mirajane. Which in turn made her question why she was hanging out with the asshole, but she wasn't so mean that she would leave the poor, emotional mess of a blonde on his own when he was dealing with his infinitely more-of-an-asshole mother.

"Well, blondie, maybe one day you'll find someone who makes you act all clingy," Cana grins. "'cause it'll happen. If you can trick them into liking you, of course."

"Funny," Laxus deadpanned. "And I ain't the kind of guy who's gonna want to spend every hour or every day with someone."

"You think I am? I'm not, like, co-dependant or anything," At Cana's words, Laxus raised a doubting eyebrow. "I'm not! Just, like, before I got with Mira I was happy sitting in my apartment doing nothing on my own. Now, whenever I have to do that now, I always think that it'd be better if Mira was with me. I don't need to spend every second with her – sometimes I don't even want to – but I always think that things would be better with her, y'know. Least to me, that's what I think a good relationship is."

"Sweet. But d'you really think I'm the kinda guy who'll end up feeling like that with someone?" Laxus chuckled slightly. "Have to say, kinda doubt it."

"Well, never say never. Maybe it's already happening but you don't know it. I mean, you've been out with your boss a lot, right," Cana had a small smirk on her face, Laxus frowning. "You've been hanging out with each other for a couple months, that's what me and Mira did before we got together."

At this, Laxus tensed quite obviously. He had indulged himself in the conversation with Cana about his relationship as it offered him a distraction from the stress about meeting his mother – something that he had undergone throughout the previous week – and it was offering him a small amount of amusement. He didn't expect Freed to be brought up – as far as he was concerned, the only person who might guess he had any kind of feelings for Freed was Makarov – so had seen no risk. Obviously, he had been mistaken.

He didn't reply, which got Cana to look up from her drink in confusion. She had brought up Laxus' boss to tease him, simply for the fact she wanted to see him blush a little more. But, before she could annoyingly suggest the party they'd go to was a date, she noticed Laxus' sudden tension.

It took her a few seconds to realise what the tension meant, but her eye bulged out a little when she did. Laxus noticed this, must have realised both what Cana's intentions had been and then what he had just revealed, and blushed. Cana didn't say anything for a moment, taken aback. Sure, the few times she'd seen the two men together she'd noted that they were closer than Laxus normally got with people, but she wouldn't have thought the reason was because they had feelings for each other. Or, Laxus at least had some kind of feelings for Freed.

After a moment, Cana spoke again. "Really?"

Laxus continued looking away from Cana's eyeline. He really had hoped to avoid Freed coming up in conversation – part of his single insanely badly timed issue at a time rule – but obviously that couldn't happen. Because not only was Freed in the conversation, Cana also knew why he would have wanted to avoid talking about him.

"Maybe," He grunted a little, glaring into his coffee. "I don't know, it's confusin'. I don't really wanna talk about it. There's kind of a lot going on today, this is the last thing I need really."

Cana nodded, seeing his point. The quiet returned between them both, however there was a small sense of tension between them. Cana knew that the tension wasn't aimed at her directly, simply that she had stumbled on something that Laxus wasn't ready to talk about, and he'd always been cagey about his privacy. Cana wasn't going to be offended, and she wasn't going to pry any more than needed, but she was curious.

Things made sense, with this. The fact that Laxus had gone to Freed after his argument with his mother had confused Cana – yes, she and Mira had been busy, but they honestly would be okay with the disruption given the circumstances – but this made sense. In some capacity, Laxus felt a bond with Freed that was unique to the two of them, so there was logic in the decision.

She went about finishing her sandwich, trying not to worry about her friend. The day really was going to be long for the blonde. Not only was he meeting with his mother, who Cana had only heard bad things about, but he was also going to a party with the guy he might have a crush on. It couldn't have been a date, Laxus wasn't forward enough for that and he probably would have been more boastful if there was actually some kind of relationship. She just hoped that going to the party wouldn't bite Laxus on the ass somehow.

The tension was soon getting too much for her and she needed to get rid of it; if only just to put Laxus in a better mood. She leant forward with a smile, getting Laxus' attention. He still looked a little nervous, but Cana hoped she could fix that.

"Well, blondie, looks like you've got a type then," Cana smirked, hoping to take the severity out of Laxus' potential feelings.

"What d'you mean by that?" Laxus asked, clearly expecting to be the punchline of some kind of joke.

"Good looking guys with long hair," Cana continued, smiling. "I mean I get that guys aren't really my forte or whatever, but Freed's pretty good looking, and obviously he's got long hair. And that guy you used to date, you used to work with him. He was pretty hot too, and long hair."

"Gajeel?" Laxus frowned, though seemed to be glad the joke wasn't at his expense. Not with any cruelty, anyway. "I mean we fucked around a bit, but I don't think we ever dated."

"Really?" Cana chuckled. "Well, you still got a type. Glad to see you know what you want in a man."

"Guess so," Laxus let out a single laugh. He hadn't really thought about that. He smiled a little, making Cana relax in her seat. "Thanks for not making a big deal out of it. I know it's kinda come out of nowhere, and it's probably stupid, but I appreciate you not freaking out."

"No problem. I ain't evil," Cana grinned. Laxus raised an eyebrow, to which Cana placed a hand over her heart to feign offense. "You do realise that the second Mira knows this, she will literally blow up, right?"

Laxus nodded with a chuckle. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, you better make sure you don't annoy me, 'cause you've just given me a bomb to drop on ya."

With a small nod and chuckle, Laxus leant back. He finished his coffee and the waiter collected their used plates and mugs. They both ordered another drink, Laxus checking his phone to see that only twenty minutes had passes since they had arrived, despite it feeling like a significantly longer time. But that meant his mother was meant to be there in around ten minutes, which filled him with the same kind of nervousness that their conversation had suppressed. He started to tap his fingers against the table again because of this but told himself that meeting with her was for the best and that he would regret it if he ran out on it.

As they waited, Cana kept Laxus in a light conversation but noticed he had folded in on himself again. When Laxus asked how long Cana planned to stay, she knew that his nervousness had come back in full force. She assured him she would stay as long as he needed, though in not such eloquent wording.

Time passed and, faster than Laxus expected, the ten minutes had ended and the time scheduled had come. More importantly, Sophia Dreyar had yet to arrive. Cana noticed that Laxus get even more self-contained when that happened, so tried to assure him that she was probably stuck in traffic, hadn't been able to find her way to the café, or that she simply hadn't managed her time correctly. Laxus had half heartedly agreed that Cana's suggestions were probably correct, but they both know he could quite believe it.

The longer time elapsed, the more Cana began to worry. After fifteen minutes it was harder to believe that traffic or poor time management was to blame, and surely anyone who cared enough would have a basic idea of where the café was. She was starting to worry that Sophia wasn't coming.

Across the table, it was obvious Laxus had the same worries. He pulled out his phone and saw that he had no notifications. He wasn't sure if his mother had gained his contact details from Makarov, but even if she didn't she could have contacted him through his grandfather. His hand clenched around his phone slightly, dread filling his stomach. Why wasn't she there? Why hadn't she gotten in contact? Why had she done this again?

More time passed, Sophia had yet to show her face. Conversation had ended; Laxus had completely retreated to his own thoughts and Cana could do nothing but be there if he needed, and deal with the waiting staff, who could sense Laxus wasn't in the mood to talk. She couldn't stop looking at Laxus, his face was stoic but there was obvious a storm of emotions going through his head.

Where the hell was she?

After another twenty minutes, Laxus checked his phone. Still nothing, and thirty-five minutes had passed since she should have been there. His confusion, hurt and regret had all twisted into anger. She had given him hope and left him down again. She had messed with his head again. She'd fucked him around. Again!

"Fucks sake!" He yelled.

Standing up, he grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulders. He stormed out of the cafe without saying another word¸ ignoring the eyes of every other patron in the café looking towards him. The door slammed against the wall as he walked through it, striding into the heavy rain with an expression of anger painted on his face.

Cana quickly followed, sending an apologetic look towards the nearest worker as she closed the door. She looked around, seeing that Laxus had stormed across the road and was walking down the sidewalk with his head low and body-language obviously angered.

She quickly ran after him, putting a hand up to a car that had to stop suddenly to avoid hitting her. The man driving made a gesture that, on a normal day, would have gotten her into an argument with him, but Laxus was more important. She jogged up the sidewalk, wincing when a loud crackle of thunder rumbled around the sky. It seemed as though the weather really was reflective of Laxus' emotions, something she had joked about as they were waiting for Sophia to show up.

"Laxus," She yelled over the sound of the rain. "Come on man, wait up. We need to talk about this."

The blonde spun around when Cana caught up, and she couldn't tell if the water on his cheeks was form the rain or was from his tears. Either way, the stoic façade had fallen, and he looked distraught, angry and betrayed. Cana tried not to let her face show any sympathy, Laxus wouldn't appreciate that, but it was hard not to feel sorry for him.

"Talk about it, huh? Sure, we can talk about it," Laxus practically yelled, though Cana knew the anger wasn't directed at her. "Because there's a whole lot of things that I wanna know! Like, what is it about me that just seems to drive people away from me? Because pretty much every fucking person who's meant to be there for me more than anyone else just leaves. Or hurts me. Or just fucks me over again and again!"

"Come on Laxus…" Was all Cana could say before Laxus continued.

"I mean my mother, she left the entire fucking continent when I was a kid and didn't take me with her. Must have done something or she would have taken me with here, right?" Laxus' voice got louder. "And fucking Ivan, I mean what kind of father does this to his own sons face!"

Laxus motioned to the jagged scar over his eye, voice still getting louder. Passers-by were glancing at them, some looking with distain, but neither Laxus nor Cana payed any mind to them.

"Ivan was a drunk, Laxus," Cana tried to remain calm. "You had nothing to do with that, he's just a bad person. And you did nothing wrong with your mother. I mean, even after Ivan did that to you, she stayed with him. Kept you with him. And even after all that, you gave her a chance and she throws it back at you."

"But why?" Laxus yelled, the thunder booming again. "Am I that fucking bad? Is there something that just makes it impossible to love me or something? What is it?"

"Laxus, it isn't you! Trust me," Cana took Laxus hand, forcing eye contact. "You got stuck with crappy parents who you didn't deserve, but that doesn't mean anything that happened is your fault and it defiantly doesn't make you unlovable. Just because those assholes don't treat you right, doesn't mean everyone's gonna be like that. Your granddad loves you, obviously. He wouldn't have looked after you if he didn't. Me and Mira do too. It must be shit, and you might not wanna believe it, but people care."

Laxus fell into silence, and the rain was the only thing they could hear. They were both soaked to the bone as Laxus pushed his hair out of his eyes. His chest was heaving slightly, and expression had fallen to something of exhaustion. He ran his hand through his hair again, and Cana could see his eyes were slightly bloodshot and red.

Defiantly crying.

"You're right," Laxus' voice croaked a little as he spoke. His voice, too, had the anger replaced with exhaustion. "I know. I-I gotta go home. I've gotta get ready for tonight and-"

"Tonight?" Cana asked, frowning. "Laxus, you can't seriously wanna go to a party tonight. Not to be harsh or anything, but you're a mess right now. I don't think you can really handle-"

"I'm not letting her do this again, Cana," Laxus grunted. Cana hated it when Laxus used her name, they only did that in serious situations. "That- that fucking woman messed up so much of my childhood and she's not doing it again! This is the firsts time I've felt normal and, well, like I'm doing something productive with my life in years, and she comes in and just fucks me around again. But I'm not letting her do it anymore, because I have more than her now. Freed, Makarov, you. That's what matters now, and she can't stop that."

"I get that. But you're not in a good place," Cana tried to insist. "D'you think you can really pretend you're okay for the night?"

"Who gives a shit? Seriously, that woman is done for me now! She has… nothing in my life is gonna be dictated by her, by Ivan, anymore," Laxus turned. "I gotta go. Thanks for sitting with me."

As Laxus started to walk away, Cana could do nothing but watch. The conviction he had spoken with, the venom in his words as he mentioned his parents, she knew he meant what he said. But it was a bad idea, Laxus was never as open as he was in that moment, there was no way he could deal with going to a party for the whole night, in an environment he was unfamiliar with no less. But Laxus was quickly walking away, he would soon be getting lost in the sea of umbrellas and overcoats, so Cana forcefully started to push herself through the mess of people.

Laxus was alone in his mind. This was what had to happen. Who was she to treat him like that? He couldn't live his life worrying about her, about the crappy parents he was given. He was a grown-ass-adult and he needed to act like it. He had a life, had friends, had a family. They were important, not Sophia and Ivan.

"Laxus," He heard Cana shout from behind him as he turned a corner. "Wait up!"

He didn't hear her. His childhood wasn't going to hold him for ransom anymore. He had a future that, for all he knew, was starting now. His childhood was just a footnote of his life, this was the main event. He wasn't going to be the little kid waiting for his mom to call anymore, he was going to be the man who lived as well as he could.

"Dude," Cana continued. "Dude, seriously."

Tonight was the start. He was going to go to the high-class party and, even if it was just for a night, live the life his parents could never offer him. Maybe once it was over, he'd call Mira or Cana and assure them he was fine. Maybe he'd call his real guardian and just talk with him, give Makarov the attention and respect the old man deserved. He could do anything, and it would be unburdened by the pressure of his crappy parents.

"Come on," Cana said with futility as the thunder boomed and lighting split apart the sky. "Laxus."

He didn't know what he was going to do from that point. He had no idea. But he did know this was the turning point. He knew that his new life was meant to start at that party. It was meant to start with Freed.

[ndrv3winterexchange]

wool and chocolate [kuzuhina; fluff; warm and fuzzy as heck]

hi there, umeko ( @umekopyan )!!! you asked for something fluffy with kuzuhina, so i tried my best to deliver. it was my first writing this ship, so i hope i didn’t fail too badly c; anyway, please enjoy your gift! <3

“Y'know what?”

“There’s an enormous chance that I do know, but, please, feel free to enlighten me.”

Rolling his eyes, Fuyuhiko elbows Izuru in the ribs, more out of habit than annoyance, then sips his lemonade and says,

“Call me a fuckin’ sap, but I kinda miss winter.”

Izuru’s brows twitch a little. So - he’s surprised. A lot. Or maybe he’s not surprised, but only decided to move his brows for one of those reasons that make no sense now, but will later turn out to be vital to the fate of the entire universe or some shit. Who the fuck knows.

As the boy besides him busies himself with, who the hell knows, compressing the new input data, Fuyuhiko digs his fingertips into the warm sand and shifts them a bit, enjoying how the light grains feel, all airy and nice, and then moves on to enjoying how this entire situation feels - shit, it’s almost December, and here he is, on a tropical island, with his friends, his partner (he will not call Hajime nor Izuru a boyfriend. He will not.) and Nanami’s AI keeping him company, chilling underneath the blazing sun and occasionally sending Naegi and co. ideas on how to un-fuck up the world.

“I presume you mean the atmosphere of the winter and not the weather, right?” Izuru slips the sunglasses onto his nose. “As a person of a quite… short and thin stature, you must get cold quite easily, right? And that is not a pleasant feeling.” He pauses for a second, nods to himself and adds, completely putting out Fuyuhiko’s ebbing offense, “I think.”

“You think?!”

Time, just like it always does, passes. The small conversation is gradually forgotten as Fuyuhiko finds himself dealing with more pressing issues, such as talking Naegi out of the mindset that reopening Hope’s Peak without any changes to its regulations would be a good idea.

Don’t tell anyone about it, but Fuyuhiko ends up calling Naegi’s associate (yeah, just like that, associate, all ambiguity implied), the original Togami kid, and having him conspire with that asshole Munakata. In the end, though, it works out. Naegi has a nice, long, public speech about how Hope’s Peak will now be open for everyone, that the classrooms will be named after perished Future Foundation workers, society this, equality that. Cool. And people seem to dig it, of course.

Then, the next week, Koizumi relapses and hits Sonia over the head with her shitty Polaroid camera, giving her a nasty concussion. Both girls end up in the hospital, one unconscious, another restrained in her bed and sobbing. Hajime swears a blue streak, then squeezes Fuyuhiko’s hand and gives place to Izuru. He spends the entire night examining Sonia while his partner spends the night at Peko’s cottage, hiding worry behind irritation. In the end, though, it all turns out okay. Sonia’s hair, still short and messy after the haircut she had to give herself after waking up from the simulation, is now pressed to her skull with bandages, while Koizumi slowly picks herself back up and takes photos of tropical fruits and rare clouds.

Life goes on.

On the beautiful early morning of December the twenty fifth, Fuyuhiko wakes up to an empty bed. Usually, this wouldn’t concern him - Izuru likes going for morning runs - but last night Hajime said that Izuru’s tired of people and probably won’t show up for the next few days. And Hajime himself is the exact opposite of an early riser. So, all things considered; what the fuck.

To hell with that. Fuyuhiko can start thinking about it after he gets some coffee. Bleary-eyed and yawning, he throws the blanket off himself and shuffles to the door of his cottage. Opens it. Freezes.

It’s snowing. It’s. Fucking. Snowing. The cottages’ roofs are covered in white, the air whipping at him brings so much cold it almost makes him squeak (almost! almost, for fuck’s sake!), and just- What the hell.

“What the fuck.”

“Hi, Fuyuhiko,” Izuru says flatly, peeking out from behind the cottage next to theirs. His expression gives away no emotions - but the tone of his voice is almost fucking pleased. Fuyuhiko gapes at him, then points, rather dumbly, at the snow, then at the cloudy sky, then at Izuru, then, once again, at the snow. And Izuru nods. “As you can see - it worked. You got your winter.”

“How the fuck?!” Fuyuhiko screeches, half-convinced he’s gonna wake up from this goddamn dream any second now. “We’re by the fucking equator!”

“Two Super Highschool Level Lucks should not be underestimated,” Izuru says, thumping his chest in a decidedly Hajime-style gesture. Asshole.

Still. What the fuck.

Watching Saionji throw a snowball at an unexpecting Souda, Fuyuhiko snickers and moves away from the window, all toasty and happy in the hotel’s old building, with the chimney (honestly, the good luck) burning hot and filling the main room with a warm glow.

And then, to make the moment even more disgustingly sappy, Hajime hands him a cup of hot chocolate. Fuyuhiko nods in approval and pats his partner’s shoulder, sliding to the couch; Hajime sits by his side with his own mug. They sit for a while in pleasant silence, just enjoying the sheer absurdity of the situation - and each other’s presence too, Fuyuhiko supposes. They sip their drinks, watch the flames shimmy in the fireplace. People outside are laughing and shouting at each other; at one point, Sonia and Tanaka, red-cheeked and with matching grins, bust in, stay for ten minutes, ask Hajime to give Izuru his thanks for bringing the snow, then go back to do whatever the fuck they’ve been doing. Maybe drawing pentagrams in the snow to summon a winter tengu, or some creepy shit like that. When Fuyuhiko shares this theory, Hajime chokes on his chocolate and has to get a hearty pat on his back.

“Thanks,” Hajime wheezes out, reaching out to loop his arm around Fuyuhiko’s shoulder. “You’re awesome.”

“Says the guy who literally has all the talents available,” Fuyuhiko snorts, “including the ability to fucking make it snow on a tropical island.”

“What, you’re not enjoying this?” Oh shit, he looks troubled now. Good job, Kuzuryuu!

“Of course I am!” Fuyuhiko spits out, hastily adjusting his eyepatch. “I’m just really fucking confused, is all. But happy too!” he adds when he sees Hajime pout. “Thank you for breaking the laws of common sense just to give me some good memories, I guess.”

“Huh.” Hajime perks up. “You’re welcome. Now,” he stands up and offers Fuyuhiko his hand, “wanna go for a walk?”

“Hell yeah I do.” Smirking, Fuyuhiko intertwines his fingers with Hajime’s and gets to his feet.

The first thing that happens after they get outside is that Fuyuhiko gets hit with a strong blast of chill wind - and falls onto his ass. Hajime, the jackass, laughs so hard his legs give out and he ends up in the snow drift too.

“Rest in shit, Kuzuryuu,” he has the guts to say. Frowning, Fuyuhiko gets up and brushes the snow off himself, coming to the painful realization that  the cheap gloves he got in the supermarket ain’t exactly water-proof. Fuck.

“If I end up catching a cold, it’ll be your fault,” he grumbles. “And it’ll be your fucking duty to take care of me, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hajime reaches out to stick his hand in Fuyuhiko’s jacket pocket. “I can even wear a nurse costume.”

“I hope to fucking god you’re shitting me.”

“Who knows? Izuru wouldn’t have anything against dressing up, I suppose.”

“You’re a dick.”

“You love me though.” Hajime grins. “Wanna share a scarf?”

Fuyuhiko shrugs, then watches Hajime unwrap it from around his neck. It’s quite a bitching thing, tightly knitted and in a shade of green (olive? Avocado? Fuck, it’d be nice to have an avocado sandwich) that matches his eyes. Not like Fuyuhiko noticed that before, of course. He may be gay, but he isn’t, like, y'know. Gay.

“There we go.” Humming to himself, Hajime bundles the thing - Jesus Christ, it’s really fucking long (did he make it himself?!) - around Fuyuhiko’s, then around his own neck, and once again pushes his cold-ass palm into his partner’s pocket. This time - the back pocket on his pants.

“Smooth, Hinata,” Fuyuhiko drawls. “If I wasn’t that chill, I’d punch you in the face.”

“And you’d lose this,” Hajime tugs on the scarf, “source of warmth. I dunno if punching me would be worth it.”

“Right.” Rolling his eyes, Fuyuhiko wraps his fingers around Hajime’s elbow and pulls gently. “Let’s go for this fucking walk then.”

“Alright.” Hajime looks him in the eye (ha!) and smiles. It’s warm, bright and way too fucking gentle. Ugh. “Let’s go.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 37

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 37 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

“Your boys got into a dust-up with the Stillwater gang at the tavern,” Hex tells Rip. “Stillwater’s men have been stealing, robbing, killing people in this town for months. This ain’t gonna help.”

"That's terrible," Ray says. “Well, if they want to continue that, they’ll have to go through us first."

“No, they won’t,” Rip squawks, and for once Len is inclined to agree with him. “Your little ruckus has undoubtedly already placed the timeline at risk, to say nothing of potentially alerting the Hunters to our presence here.”

“Looks like someone’s already planning on busting out of town,” Hex says, sneering. “Again. You always were good at cutting and running, Hunter.”

“A man wearing a Confederate uniform doesn’t really get to talk about cutting and running,” Len says mildly.

“It’s rude to discuss matters to which you have no understanding, Mr. Snart,” Rip says hastily, even as Hex turns on Len and takes a step towards him, eyes narrowed and mouth all threatening-like.

Len seen a lot worse. He glares back.

“My mother was black,” he says pointedly. “Jax is black. Kendra’s black. Feel we’re pretty far along understanding all we need to understand about good ol' Jonah here, however buddy-buddy the two of you may have been back in the day.”

“I had my loyalties,” Hex says stiffly. “And I surrendered myself to the Union army after 1862 rather than betray either my comrades or my disdain of the slave-holding system.”

“The fact that it took you until the Emancipation Proclamation to figure out that the Civil War was about slavery doesn’t say much about your intelligence,” Kendra says, arms crossed. “Uh, no offense.”

Everyone stares at her.

“There a way of taking that that wasn’t offensive?” Hex asks, but he looks more amused than anything else.

“Maybe we should talk about the Stillwater gang,” Ray says hastily. “And how we plan to stop them.”

“Still not seeing how it’s any of our business, Haircut,” Mick says.

“We’re heroes,” Ray says. “We can’t just stand aside and let this town suffer!”

“Well, what about the timeline effects?” Sara says practically. “It’s one thing if the Stillwater gang was a bunch of nobodies who have no impact, but if they end up attacking someone who gets inspired by that incident to shape their belief system and then that person becomes someone influential – stopping that could be bad. Butterfly effect, right?”

“Excellent point, Miss Lance,” Rip says.

"But how does the butterfly effect square with the whole 'time wants to happen' stuff?" Jax asks, frowning.

“Gideon, why don't you check the timeline?" Rip continues, ignoring him.

He probably doesn't have a good answer.

“As it happens, no member of the Stillwater gang has a significant impact on history,” Gideon says. “In fact, the only individual in the town who does is one Herbert George Wells, a young boy, and he's not listed as having any life-changing incidents during this period.”

“Then we can interfere!” Ray exclaims. “Listen, guys, it's actually all pretty simple. There’s a town being terrorized by this gang, and I aim to do something about it.”

“You 'aim to',” Len says dryly.

“Haircut’s going native,” Mick says, smirking.

“I think it’s admirable,” Kendra says firmly, but her attention is elsewhere. “Uh, Sara, can I borrow you for a minute?”

The girls head off their own way.

Ray goes back to town to talk to the sheriff, Hex accompanying him – Rip having opted, yet again, to remain on the ship for reasons of his own.

Ray walks out with a sheriff’s badge pinned onto him and a gigantic grin.

“Oh, he’s gonna be insufferable now,” Len says, covering his eyes with his hand.

“Nevertheless, it is our duty as his teammate to back him up,” Stein says with a sigh. “Come along, Jefferson; it’s best if we stick together. Let’s go ask for a map or something at the tavern.”

That just leaves Len and Mick.

“There isn’t even anything here worth stealing,” Len complains to Mick, who nods in pained agreement.

“I’ve gathered up some other ghosts for you, sir,” Grace says, floating over to him. She points at a massed up crowd, some way distant. “I’ve asked them to stay back for now, though.”

“Well, that’s thoughtful,” Len says, noticing absently that James is nowhere in sight. “So, what is it you want the life in order to –”

At just that moment, an actual honest-to-god posse on horseback ride into town, shouting and firing guns.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Len groans, burying his face in his hands.

“We should find high ground,” Mick says, heading off purposefully.

Len grabs a rifle and follows.

Ray, of course, walks straight up to the guy. “This here town’s under my protection.”

The man sneers. “And who the hell are you?”

“John Wayne,” Ray says. “Salvation’s new sheriff.”

“Did he just –” Mick starts.

“Don’t,” Len says. He can feel a headache developing.

Grace’s still floating by.

“We can talk later,” Len tells her.

She nods, though she looks a little annoyed.

“– my boys ride into town whenever we want and take whatever we want,” the guy in charge says. “In exchange, we don’t kill the whole lot of you, the whole town. But the arrangement’s over now, little man. And given that there’s only one of you –”

Let it never be said Len doesn’t know his entrance lines.

He shoots the gun out of the leader’s – Stillwater? – hand, making his horse rear up and making the man have to take some time to calm it.

Ray smirks. “You get out of town and you don’t come back, or the next bullet’s in your eye,” he says. “I’ve got sharpshooters all around.”

“Boss,” one of the gang says. “The guy at the bar could also shoot a gun out of a man’s hand…”

“Probably the same guy,” Stillwater scoffs, twisting around in his seat to look to see where the shot came from. He sounds a little doubtful, though.

Len ducks down and shoves the gun at Mick, who stands up pointedly.

“There,” one of the gang says.

“Different guy, boss,” another reports.

“Fine,” Stillwater spits. “Let’s ride, boys!”

And then they all gallop out.

“Dude,” Jax says from the door of the tavern. “That was badass.”

“Running a bad guy out of town’s always been on my bucket list,” Ray replies gleefully.

“You lot ain’t nothing but trouble,” Hex says, scowling. “You just keep on poking that hornet’s nest.”

“Hey,” Jax protests. “He saved the town!”

“Today, sure,” Hex says. “What about tomorrow? Day after? For a bunch of time travelers, you don’t seem to understand much about the future. One day you’re gonna leave, and Salvation will end up like Calvert.”

“What’s Calvert?” Ray asks.

It turns out to be some town in Oklahoma that a guy named Quentin Turnbull razed to the ground, and it turned out that Rip had been there – Rip had actually moved in, gone native, and stayed there nearly half a year. The day after he’d disappeared, the whole place had been destroyed.

That, presumably, was why Rip was keeping to himself this mission.

“That would’ve been nice to hear from Rip,” Jax says, but shrugs. “Okay. So what do we do now? We can’t stay forever.”

“If you want to save this town, really save it, that means we have to find and destroy the Stillwater gang for good,” Hex says. “And that means finding and arresting Stillwater himself. With him gone, the rest of them will scatter like rats.”

“I have a map,” Jax says, holding it out to Hex, who snatches it. “And directions. Grey got them from the barkeep. He went back to the ship to get a kid some medicine.”

“Won’t that be a timeline problem?” Ray asks.

“Ask yourself if Grey cares,” Jax says wryly.

“This information’s good,” Hex grunts, ignoring them. “Based on this, I know where the Stillwater gang is holed up. We can go get ‘em.”

They go pick up more guns and a set of horses, some of which come from gang members they’d beaten up earlier.

Len – who’s already armed – leads his horse out to the area behind the stables to practice getting up on it. He’s not that familiar with the mechanics of horseback riding and he’s not particularly pleased about the idea of practicing in front of a judging audience.

“Pardon me,” Grace says from behind him as Len swings himself onto the horse the way people do in the movies – one leg in the stirrup, then up and over. It works pretty well, likely thanks to how tall he is.

Attempt to climb giant beast, successful. Go Len!

Oh, wait, giant beast is moving, what the fuck.

Not good, not good, not good!

Okay, gripping with the legs seems to work –

“Regarding your offer of life…?” Grace says, coughing a little.

“Sorry, yes,” Len says. “Gimme a minute, this – okay, whoa, whoa, boy! – this isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Have you never ridden a horse before?” she asks, distracted.

“Not unless you count carousel horses,” Len says. “And one traumatic near-riding experience when I was younger, but that didn’t actually ever go anywhere.”

That seems to put her off a bit. “I see,” she says. “Regardless, I wanted to talk about your earlier offer.”

“Sure thing,” Len says. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like to do with –”

“Len!” Mick shouts from the front of the stable. “We’re riding out!”

“Damnit,” Len says. He hasn’t entirely figured out ‘go’. “Sorry, Grace,” he tells her. “We’ll talk about it later.”

He tries kicking at the horse’s sides.

Lo and behold, it works! He is achieving forward motion!

“City boy,” Mick sniggers when he sees him.

“Shut up,” Len says cheerfully. He’s in way too good a mood to let little things (like Mick’s perfect form on a horse) get to him. “We going to get them?”

“Hell yes,” Jax says.

“Where’s Stein?” Mick asks.

“Still with the medicine,” Jax says. “It’s fine; Rip took the time to swing by and re-emphasize how much we really shouldn’t be using any future tech or anything.”

“Well, if I get shot, I’d appreciate some future tech healing me,” Len drawls. “So, you know, don’t take him too much to heart.”

“Got it, boss,” Jax says with a grin.

“Y’all gonna keep flapping your mouths or you gonna come do some real good?” Hex asks.

“Flapping, clearly,” Mick says. “Speaking of doing 'good', how much of a bounty you gonna get from these guys, again?”

Hex glares.

“We’re allied for the sake of the town,” Len says. “You still haven’t given us a reason to like you, Mr. Confederacy; remember that. Let’s go.”

They ride forth.

At one point, Len notices when he turns to say something to Mick that Grace is still standing where he left her. That’s strange.

Then Ray comments that it would’ve been nice to have Sara on this mission and Hex replies with something offensive about their “fillies”, apparently referring to Sara and Kendra wandering off on their own, and Len has to turn back to stop Hex from getting shot by the more progressive members of their little group, and he forgets all about it.

“Time-era appropriateness,” Len reminds them. “Remember, just because he walks and talks like a racist stereotype doesn’t mean he’s actually as stupid as he comes off.”

“You fellows are real good company,” Hex growls.

“What, did Rip never mention any of this stuff?” Ray asks.

“No.”

“Look at me,” Len says. “Surprised that Rip Hunter managed to fail to mention something.”

Luckily, that manages to get a laugh out of the whole group, and tensions fade.

And then, because plans are apparently for idiots, not cowboys, Hex leads them straight into the gang’s camp without giving them a chance to pause and talk strategy.

Maybe he's where Rip got it from.

“Jeb Stillwater,” Ray announces in his most grandiose voice. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney –”

“There won’t be Miranda rights for another hundred years,” Len snaps.

And that, unsurprisingly, is when the shooting starts.

There are a lot more of the gang than there are of them. Len has his ghosts, though, and that would probably even the score –

“Don’t you dare, boss!” Mick calls to him. “Remember, no general-ing!”

Right. Len’s trying to avoid calling on large groups of ghosts. Need to ensure that he doesn’t try to take over the world.

Not that taking over the world as it exists in 1871 would be fun in any way other than to establish an iron-fisted progressive state…

No. None of that.

Even if it would be funny.

“Fall back!” Hex shouts. “We have Stillwater! Fall back!”

They turn the horses around – some judicious yanking on the reins by Len helps convince his particular horse to think about turning, but the loud sounds of the guns helps incentive it even more, Len finds – and start getting out of there.

And then, just when he thinks they’re free and clear, a lasso flies out of the dark and loops around Jax, pulling him backwards off his horse.

“Jax!” Ray shouts.

“We’ve got to go!” Hex shouts in return.

“Not without Jax!” Len bellows.

“We got Stillwater! We’ve got leverage over ‘em, we can trade him back to the gang in exchange for your buddy,” Hex argues. “Live to fight another day or die tonight.”

“Fuck that,” Mick says. “Boss?”

“Go get him, Mick,” Len says, glaring at Hex. "Jax is black, you asshole; they might just lynch him before daybreak on the grounds that no one would bother trading a man worth a bounty for a black man."

Mick jumps off of his horse – damn, his form is good; you could film a movie of just that and Len would be entranced – and sprints back towards the gang.

“Your friend’s gonna die,” Hex tells Len.

“Oddly enough,” Len drawls, “I don’t think that’s gonna be the case. C’mon, let’s get Stillwater back to the ship.”

He doesn't want to trust Ray alone with this guy - less because he thinks Hex will pull something, and more because he thinks Hex will successfully talk a still-too-trusting Ray into something stupid.

They’re about halfway there, Len hanging back from the others a bit because his horse seems to be intent on moving at a slow walk instead of a trot and all the kicking in the world doesn’t seem to be helping, when Grace appears right in his way.

Len grabs instinctively at the reins, making the horse buck and him swear.

"Grace, what is it?" he asks. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, you can help me quite a bit," she says. "You know how. Your life."

"I told you –"

"Later," she hisses. "Oh, yes, later, always later – well, I'm tired of waiting for a later that will never come!"

Oh, shit.

Len throws himself to the side, leaping off the horse and rolling badly onto the ground as she reaches for him, her eyes glowing white. She's only a minor poltergeist – he should be able to hold her off until –

Someone grabs at Len's shoulder.

Len wrenches himself away, twisting sharply to break their grip, but not before he feels that awful nauseating sensation of his life being sucked out of him by force.

Unquiet dead.

Len puts his back to a tree, even though he knows it won't help.

It's not just Grace, either; it's the whole group of them that she introduced the second time she came to him – the time when James was strangely absent –

"You gathered up unquiet dead," Len says, and has to leap to the side as one of them charges him. He escapes that one, but another grabs him by the hip, scooping out another handful of life. "What happened to James?"

"He didn't agree," Grace says, her pretty face still twisted in anger. "He didn't understand – for people with power, it's later – always later –"

"Not that I don't sympathize with that notion," Len says, hissing and ducking forward when another ghost's arm comes through the tree to gouge out more life from his back. "But if you keep up with this, you're gonna kill me!"

"So be it," Grace says indifferently.

"Damnit, if you just waited a little, I'd be happy to give you assholes what you wanted!" Len snarls and looks around. Hex and Ray are gone, with Stillwater. Mick is rescuing Jax.

He reaches inside himself for his power, intending on calling up some friendlies, but Grace herself darts forward and slams her arm right into his belly.

The sheer wrongness of it knocks the breath out of his body.

"Don't call for more of us," she says. "There's more than enough of us here already. Don't let him speak!"

And then they're on him, ghostly fingers scrabbling at him, hurting him, bearing him down the ground, pulling at him, and Len has a lot of power now, more than he ever did before, but he's still not an endless sieve of it.

"Stop!" he hears someone call.

"James!" Grace hisses.

And then the friendlies come – few of them, very few, damnit, he's too new to this era, he shared willingly with too few of them; he should have listened to Mick – and they wade in to help him, pulling the unquiet dead off of him.

But they're slow and he's getting weaker, and he doesn't want to risk Jax's life but he doesn't want to risk his own, either.

"Mick," he croaks, pushing ghostly fingers away from his mouth. "Mick!"

The second one came off as more of a gurgle than a proper yell.

"Mick!"

That was better, louder. Still not much – but then, Mick didn't need Len to be that loud.

"Shut up!" Grace screams, and shoves her hands into his chest. "Shut up and give it to us!"

"Get your goddamn hands off of him," Mick's blessedly familiar voice roars.

He's come.

"Mick," Len says, or tries to. His tongue is too thick for his mouth. He's slurring.

He's dying.

There are too many of them.

Mick roars above his head. The sound is filled with pain - not just pain at Len dying, but his own pain, pain of the unquiet dead lashing out at him.

If Len dies of the grasping hands, of the fire in his brain, of the choking death, Mick will be left alone.

No.

"Come," Len gasps, throwing his power out where his voice does not reach. "Come and fight for me."

And they come, his dead, his legions, his friendly followers, they come to him, they come for him, they come to fight on his behalf.

The dead of the war between the states, the dead of the clashes between the tribes and the white men who came ever onwards, the dead of the West –

They come to him, howling in rage.

And they rip the unquiet dead off of him, tear them off, and he can breathe free again.

His hands are clenching, his back arching, his muscles spasming, his legs kicking –

But he can breathe.

Len sucks in the air, filling his lungs. He ignores the shouts and screams of the dead around him, clashing against each other. It means less than nothing; his dead will take care of it.

His Mick will take care of it.

"– boss! Boss!"

Len opens his eyes. He's lying on the cold, dark ground, his back propped against a tree. Why?

There's a young black man kneeling above him, concern in his eyes. His hands are outstretched. He does not appear to be a threat, but he is not one of Len's ghosts.

"What?" Len rasps.

"How you doing?" the young man asks. "You okay?"

Such an inane question. Where are Len's ghosts? They will help him without badgering him.

"Where," Len says, but the strength fails him. His ghosts, he needs his ghosts – his legions –

"Lenny?" someone else asks. "You okay?"

Len sneers. What a stupid question. Of course he's not! And this, to come from one of his own, no less. He needs his ghosts, to come to him, to defend him –

"Lisa needs you."

It takes a second to register, but when it does, Len's belly seizes up with fear. Not Lisa, no –

He looks up. Jax and Mick are looking down at him.

"Where," he starts, trying to convey the urgency, that he needs to find her, help her, protect her – then he thinks about it for more than half a second. "When?"

Mick exhales and crouches down. "Good to have you back, boss."

"What?"

"You sure he's back?" Jax asks. "He hasn't even moved as far as 'how'."

Len painfully uncurls a finger in his right hand. Just one.

Jax laughs. "Okay, yeah, he's back." He reaches forward and clasps Len's shoulder for a moment. "Don't scare us like that, okay? We've only got one of you, boss."

Then he stands and walks off.

Len looks after him in confusion. Then he looks at Mick in question.

Mick shakes his head. "You lost yourself for a few minutes there. Megalomania. Not just that, though; it was worse than before. You forgot – everything. Even Jax."

Len swallows.

"It's okay. We got you back."

"Thanks," Len says. He swallows again, sitting up, though he needs Mick's arm to do it. "I'm back."

"I know." Mick's voice is fond. Concerned, yes, but fond.

"What happened?"

"Well, Ray and Hex got Stillwater back to town without noticing you’d fallen behind, the Waverider is now guarded by what feels like a full on legion of invisible ghosts, the Stillwater gang has notably increased its respect for and belief in the supernatural nature of this forest, and I think they're going to challenge us to a duel at high noon. For the town. Way for ‘em to save face before getting the hell out of Dodge."

"Not Ray."

"No, don't worry. No one is so stupid as that. Rip'll do it."

"And?"

"And I'll keep an eye from a distance."

"Good."

"You, on the other hand, will be spending some quality time with Gideon's med bay. That was the nastiest attack we've had in years."

"How many?"

"Dozens. Hundreds, maybe. First you nearly died, then you went all megalomaniac on us for a bit…It was bad, Lenny."

That sounded bad.

"Well, I survived," Len says, shaking his head even as he stands up and starts walking, very gingerly, towards the ship. "And I wasn't on a horse. So, you know, you win that argument."

"What argu—wait. You mean the one about you not being safe behind the wheel? I can't believe you even remember that."

"I remember when someone warns me about the dangers of falling off a horse," Len says. "Especially shortly after I have to jump off of one."

"Technically, you jumped off of one to avoid falling off of one during an attack –"

"That doesn't make you right."

They bicker all the way through the camps – literal camps, because you can take the man out of the army but apparently he’ll bring along his tent – of ghosts guarding the Waverider. They're almost at the ramp when Len hears it.

"—Snart!" a distant voice calls. "Grazhdanin Snart! I must speak with him!"

Len frowns. Grazhdanin is the Russian word for fellow-citizen; even if 1980s Russia hadn't featured it pretty heavily, old Vanya back in Iron Heights, an old Russian gangster who'd protected Len from his dad in one of his earlier stints in the can and taught him all the Russian he knows, had taught it to him early on.

"What is it, boss?" Mick asks.

"Exactly how many Russian communists would you expect there to be in the Wild West?" Len asks.

Mick frowns as well.

Len turns. "Let me see who it is," he calls, and his voice doesn't even go into echoes, good.

"I don't like this," Mick grumbles. "Maybe they're up to something."

"You'll stop them if they are."

The ghosts part and another ghost hurries through, aiming right for him.

A woman, powerful but weary, in a great big peacoat and a rifle –

"Svetlana?" Len exclaims.

"You know her?" Mick asks, surprised.

"Yes, we spoke – but that was in Russia. In 1985. How could she be here? Now? And still know my name? I mean, even if she wasn't so obviously a Night Witch from World War II, she's Russian -"

"I'd like an answer to all that," Mick says, lips pressed together. "I've had enough nasty surprises."

"Grazhdanin Snart," Svetlana says, coming close. "I have found you! I began to fear – but no matter. I have an update."

"What's the update?" Len asks. "And while we're at it, how did you get here? To this time, to this place?"

"The two answers are related," she says. "I took you at your word and followed the man in Moscow – Master Druce, his comrades call him."

Len blinks. "Wait," he says. "You followed him..?"

"I entered his ship, or rather, those of his three servants," Svetlana confirms. "It repelled me, but I persisted."

"Well done Svetlana," Len says, impressed. Even Mick, the only other ghost Len knows to have been willing to enter a time ship for more than a few moments, looks impressed by it.

She flashes a quick smile. "Thank you, Grazhdanin. But more important: they have followed you here."

"Of course they have," Mick growls. "Funny how Rip's hiding spot turned out not to be all that great for hiding."

"They suspected he would come here," Svetlana confirms. "He was here in the past; he has an attachment to the place. They have come here and plan to ambush you during the duel."

"Duel – the shootout at high noon?"

"Yes, yes, that. But there is more: they have changed orders. They are to kill you now."

"They weren't trying to before?" Mick asks.

"No," Svetlana says. She sounds very sure. "Not to kill. Only to chase."

"To capture, you mean," Len says.

"No," Svetlana says. "To chase only. They say this is an operation; they rely upon Rip Hunter to guide you."

"Hold up. He's with them?" Len asks, alarmed. If that's the case, they're screwed – and Len isn't the judge of character he thought he was –

But Svetlana is shaking her head. "No," she says. "It's a plot. A sting. He does what they expect. Only – they did not expect you to come so close to succeeding. Too dangerous."

"Close to succeeding," Len says. "You mean – in the 50s, when we nearly got Savage? They don't want us to kill Savage?"

"Makes sense," Mick opines. "What with them not wanting to change the timeline and firing Rip and all that."

"But then what's the sting part of it?" Len asks. "Why let Rip – why let us – do what we're doing? Why chase instead of kill or capture right off the bat?"

"Maybe we're not supposed to kill him until the moment is right?" Mick suggests.

"Then why’d they decide to kill us now?" Len scowls. "Something stinks."

“Stinks or not is unimportant,” Svetlana says impatiently. “The Hunters are going after the others now.”

Len looks at Mick. Mick looks back.

“Don’t you dare,” Mick says.

“We’ll need all the help we can get to fight them, if they're that tough,” Len points out.

“We will not,” Mick says, crossing his arms and glaring the way he does when he's really serious about something. “You are going to stay on the Waverider and get your brain looked at to make sure there wasn’t any damage. I’m gonna go warn the others –”

“But –”

“Boss. I’ll take half of the ghostly army we’ve got on our doorstep with me, okay? But I don’t think we’ll even need ‘em. If we’re prepared for these Hunter assholes, we can ambush them with just the forces we've got.”

Len thinks about protesting, but his head is hurting and he still feels vaguely cotton-mouthed. He probably won’t be of much use even in the best case scenario. Still… “If you need help –”

“I’ll send a ghost,” Mick promises. “So that you can get Gideon to come blast them from the sky. But trust me – you won’t need to.”

“Fine,” Len grumbles, conceding the point, and finally climbs onto the Waverider. “Gideon,” he says, once inside. “I need a brain scan.”

“Certainly, Mr. Snart,” Gideon says, sounding somewhat puzzled. “Is there a particular reason?”

“How familiar are you with the symptoms of epilepsy…?”

[darkfire1220]

Viridescent Chapter Two: The Entrance Exam

Summary: As a child, Izuku decided it would be better if he were Quirkless than to have a power that scared everyone. Now a teenager and looking to enter U.A, he finds himself as the protege of All Might and a student of the best heroes in the nation- but there’s no running from a part of you, and he’s learning the hard way that you have to accept all of yourself to be a real hero.

"Whew…I made it…" Izuku stopped to catch his breath as he stared at the huge U.A buildings at the front of the campus.

It had been ten months since Izuku had agreed to become All Might's successor and in that time, he'd put his body through absolute hell. All Might had made him train like a maniac, pushing his body to its very limits and beyond. He'd explained that Izuku's body back then was too weak to inherit One for All right off the bat, so he had to build himself up to handle the extraordinary power.

He'd definitely bulked up a fair bit, although Izuku still looked like a skinny kid at first glance. The now fifteen year old's physique didn't compare to All Might's one bit, but that was fine for now. He had made it to the starting line and that was all that mattered.

Izuku quietly groaned. His sore muscles were aching from the strain he'd put them under this morning to finish clearing all that trash from the beach. Thinking back on it, he lifted one of his hands to cover his mouth.

"Eat this!" All Might had ordered with that big grin on his face as he held up one of his own blonde hairs to Izuku.

"Huh?" The boy just stared at him with a dumbfounded expression.

All Might laughed uproariously. "It doesn't matter what it is as long as you take in my DNA!"

"It's way too different from what I imagined!" Izuku yelped as All Might practically shoved the hair into his mouth.

"Enough of that, bottoms up kiddo!"

Despite Izuku's feeble protests, he did eat the hair. It was about as pleasant an experience as you could imagine it would be. The way it just dragged down his throat was just…gross.

"Good, now don't throw that up," All Might chuckled.

"I don't feel any different, though…"

"Of course not, how do you think your stomach works? It'll take a little time for you to digest the hair, but you'll probably feel something by the time the exam starts."

Izuku shuddered and went to go grab the shirt he'd set aside earlier. "Got it…I gotta get home and take a shower and eat before the exam in a few hours…"

All Might turned his gaze towards the ocean, the view now completely void of any obstruction. "We turned you into a vessel that can house One for All, but it was made in a hurry. You didn't even get to take it on a test run. Prepare yourself for the repercussions that it will have on your body."

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the hero. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," All Might replied. "In any case, focus on using One for All today. With all the time we spent building up your body to house it, we didn't get to actually work on your original Quirk at all. Ideally, that's what I'd recommend you use for this exam."

"I'm not sure if I can use it in front of people yet…" Izuku mumbled nervously.

"I know, so like I said, focus on using One for All today," All Might pat the boy's shoulder with one of his huge hands. "We'll get you comfortable with your Quirk now that you've got One for All as well. It'll just take time. Focus on the exam for now, young man."

"Yes, sir."

"Huh? Deku?"

Izuku jumped, torn from his thoughts by the familiar voice. He turned and spotted Katsuki walking towards him. "Oh, Katsuki. Hey!"

Katsuki looked a little baffled in an irritated sort of way. "What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna take the Support Course test."

"Oh, well…" Izuku scratched the back of his head as the other teen reached him. "I-I decided to try for the Hero Course."

"You serious?" Katsuki tilted his head. "Dude, you haven't used your Quirk since like the second grade. Do you even remember how?"

"I-I think it'll be okay!" They were walking towards the entrance together now. "I just…I want to try at least."

"Don't tell me you're still scared of people freaking out about it?" Katsuki scoffed in annoyance. "You can't pussy out just because everyone else is terrified of your badass Quirk. It still ain't as awesome as mine, though."

Izuku sweat-dropped. I'm pretty sure the whole reason he ended up being friends with me is because he wanted to prove that he was better than everyone who was scared of my Quirk…

"What, y'all can't handle a little green fire? What a bunch of pussies! Go drown yourselves to death, then!"

He smiled slightly at the memory. Katsuki was abrasive and frankly a total ass to pretty much everyone, (including Izuku to a certain extent) but he was a bit more friendly around Izuku. Part of that was because they ended up in a video game club together at middle school and were the best players there. Heck, they'd even won a video game tournament held between all the schools in the region. He was kind of like Katsuki's sidekick in a way, so the other teen was slightly more tolerant and less abrasive towards him. Just slightly.

"You're getting into U.A, right?" Katsuki demanded, giving him a sideways glare.

Izuku nodded. "Even if I don't pass the Hero Examination Test, I'll take the Support Class Test. I can definitely get into that one."

"No shit. You've got a fuckin' library in that goddamn head of yours," Katsuki rapped his knuckles against the timid boy's forehead. "And you take way too many notes. Just get in, got it? It'll piss me off if you fail."

"I got it," Izuku promised.

Aaaaand now he was tripping on his shoelaces.

Or I'll just die, he thought as he waited for the inevitable impact.

Except he didn't hit the ground and just remained suspended in midair. Katsuku gave him a weird look as Izuku yelped and squirmed in the air, but didn't fall.

"Are you all right?"

The boys looked up to find a teenage girl standing there with her hand on Izuku's backpack. She had shoulder-length brown hair, big brown eyes, and rosy red cheeks. Carefully, she helped to right Izuku so he was back on his feet before she clapped her hands together and smiled. "Sorry I used my Quirk without asking, but I figured it would've been bad luck if you tripped, y'know? Did nerves get to you? I'm kinda nervous too. Good luck!"

Before either Izuku or Katsuki could say a word, she was walking off. Katsuki just stared after her with a face like he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or not. "The fuck?"

A huge smile spread over Izuku's face and his eyes practically sparkled. "I just talked to a girl!"

"You didn't say a damn thing, you dumbass!" Katsuki snapped at him. "And wipe that weird look off your face! It's creepy as fuck!"

Once they were in the auditorium, the lights hit the stage and they were greeted by a Pro Hero named Present Mic. The man had a wild haircut, spiffy glasses, and a big speaker fixture wrapped around his neck. He also apparently had never heard the phrase "keep it down" because he was being obnoxiously loud.

"Welcome everyone to my live show!" He shouted into the mic and jabbed his fingers out to either side of him at the crowd. "Everybody say HEY!"

He put a hand to his ear, but all he got was silence.

"Tough crowd!" Mic laughed. "Whatever! I'm gonna give you the run-down on how this exam is gonna go! ARE YOU READY?!"

More silence was his answer, though Izuku was muttering to himself out of habit. "Holy crap, it's really him! I listen to his talk show on the radio every week! The lecturers at U.A really are all Pro Heroes!"

"Shut up," Katsuki growled beside him.

"Pay attention, listeners!" Mic shouted. "We'll be seeing if you got skills to pay the bills in a ten minute practice run at our replica-city district! You can take whatever equipment you want, just gather at your designated meeting area after my presentation, ya dig?!"

Katsuki looked from the card he had for his test to the one Izuku had, noting that they were in different districts. "It's set up so that we can't work together with people we know, huh?"

"That makes sense," Izuku muttered. "It'd be too unfair if some people had others helping them out to stock up on points."

"That's fine, though," Katsuki dismissed. "If you got stuck in my exam, I'd end up taking all the points for myself, anyways."

Izuku wasn't at all insulted by his friend's greed for points. That was kind of the objective here, after all.

Mic was talking again. "There'll be loads of faux-villains spread all over the battlefields and each one will be rated as a One, Two, or Three pointer! Your job is to use your Quirk to take out as many of them as you can and rack up a high score! Also, you can't attack other competitors directly! That's nasty anti-hero stuff and it's against the rules, ya dig?!"

"Excuse me!"

All eyes were suddenly drawn to a student in the stands- a young man wearing glasses who bore a very stern expression on his face. "On the handout, there are clearly four types of villains listed! If this is an error, then it's a huge embarrassment for a top-tier national academy of U.A's caliber! What is the meaning of this?"

"Also, you!" The other teen suddenly twisted to glare at Izuku, who jumped in surprise and fright. "Quit muttering to yourself! We're trying to pay attention! If you think U.A is just for fun, then leave this place at once!"

Izuku practically melted into his seat from embarrassment, covering up his face as most of the other students started to chuckle at him, but he was saved from complete humiliation by Katsuki. The teen snarled and stood up, placing his foot on the railing as he yelled at the guy who had called Izuku out. "The hell did you say?! I'll kick your ass!"

The other boy recoiled from Katsuki's rage as he swept his glare over the rest of the kids in the room who were still laughing. He held up one hand threateningly and let a few small explosions pop off in his palm. "Anyone else wanna talk shit?! Shut up and mind your own business, extras!"

Most of the kids did as he said, though a few looked ready to pick a fight with Katsuki. Present Mic broke it up before things could get ugly. "Woohoo! Save that aggression for the test, kiddos! I can't say I don't like it though!"

"Thanks, Katsuki," Izuku barely managed to get out as he peeked between the gaps of his fingers.

Katsuki sat down and crossed his arms with a huff, still glaring in annoyance at the kid who had started the whole thing. "Nobody gets to mess with you but me."

Mic pointed at the teen with the glasses. "You make a good point young man, so let me explain! The fourth type of villain is called the Zero Pointer! It's a big gimmick that goes wild in tight places, ya dig? If I were you, I'd do my best to avoid that sucker!"

"I see! Forgive my interruption!" The teen made a huge bow and sat back down.

"Welp, that's enough from me!" Mic went on. "I'll leave you with a quote that my academy prides itself on! Go beyond! Plus Ultra! Now get out there and have a great time suffering this trial!"

Holy crap, it's huge!

Izuku gaped at the massive duplicate city laid out before them. Jeez, the place could've been its own town! He knew that U.A was top of the line and was notorious for going to extremes to train heroes, but this was more than he'd expected.

Glancing around at some of the other students, Izuku noticed that some of them had equipment to match their individual Quirks. He kind of wished he had something like that. Not that it matters. I don't think I can use my flames here and I've never used One for All before…I'm not sure what kind of equipment would work best with it.

His eyes suddenly found a familiar figure- the girl who had kept him from falling when they first arrived. Oh, that girl from before! Maybe I should go say hello…I need to thank her for earlier, anyways!

"You, stop right there."

Izuku went stiff as a board at the sound of that awfully familiar voice- uptight and stern. Oh great.

"That girl is trying to concentrate. Don't go over there and interrupt her," the glasses-wearing teen who had called him out walked over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. There was a warning look in his eyes. "Who are you, anyways? Are you here to obstruct us during the exam?"

He jumped. "N-no! O-of course n-not!"

Several of the other kids started laughing as they watched, commenting on his jumpiness and the nerves Izuku was obviously dealing with. He hung his head in embarrassment. They think they're lucky to have me as an opponent…

"START!"

Everyone stopped and turned towards Present Mic, who was standing on an observation tower. They all looked confused, but the Pro laughed and yelled again. "What are you waiting for?! There ain't a countdown in a real battle, you greenhorns! Get those legs moving!"

"Huh?" Izuku blinked, then he realized that everyone else was already running into the district. "Oh, crap!"

He blitzed after them, desperate to catch up with the rest of the pack. It's fine! I fell behind a little, but it's fine! I've got All Might's Quirk now…I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

A building to his side suddenly exploded, making him skid to a stop. Izuku's eyes widened as a robot emerged and fixed its single eye on him. "One point!"

"Target locked on. Kill!"

The robot lunged at Izuku, who froze in place. Shit! How do I use One for All?! I still don't feel any different!

It was too fast and close for him to dodge, so he glanced around rapidly. No one was in sight, so maybe…

He ducked under the robot's swing and grabbed the bot by its thin wire neck, then let his own Quirk flare up. Instantly, he was wreathed in green flames and the heat caused the robot's sensitive circuits to overload and fail. The steel creature collapsed, neck sizzling from the heat.

Izuku immediately stopped the flames and looked around frantically. Good, no one saw me. Maybe if I sneak up on more of them on my own, I can take a them out until One for All starts working. It should be working soon, right?!

"SIX MINUTES AND TWO SECONDS LEFT!"

Mic's shout pushed him to run off again. He had only gotten one point in four minutes?! He needed more points fast!

He found an intersection that was crawling with robots, but they were all being taken out by a mass of students. He saw the girl from earlier touch several of them so that they floated up, then with a clap of her hands, they fell and were destroyed. She set her hands on her knees, breathing heavily before she moved on. "That's twenty eight points!"

Twenty eight?!

Izuku jumped as the teen with the glasses came out of nowhere and destroyed another robot's head with a huge kick. "That's forty five points!"

Forty five?!

He started to panic. They never told us how many villains there were! If I don't get a move on, all of them might be taken and I'll fail!

He was about to run off to try and find more isolated villains like before, but before he could do anything, the ground began to shake. Izuku flinched and his jaw fell open in terror as a massive robot appeared further down the street, destroying a building in the process. It had a big ZERO on its forehead.

Isn't that way too much?!

He fell to the ground, cowering at the sight of the behemoth robot as it made its way towards them. The other students were already scrambling to get out of its way.

Izuku felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. No! I only have one point! I gotta run, but I gotta get points! Why can't I feel One for All yet?! Where is it?! All the work I did with All Might will be wasted if I can't use it!

"Ow!"

He froze and looked over his shoulder when he heard the cry of pain. Izuku realized that the girl who had helped him before had collapsed and was trapped under some rubble. She looked like she was gonna be sick and couldn't move even with the Zero Pointer coming at them.

She would be crushed.

He was going for the robot before he even realized what he was doing.

Izuku crouched as he charged, feeling a rush of power surge through his body. He jumped up, surging into the air like a rocket towards the Zero Pointer. His fist clenched as he forced that power through his arm, tearing his sleeve with the raw force it gave off.

When you use One for All, squeeze your ass super tight and yell this at the top of your lungs!

"Smaaaaaash!"

Izuku drove his fist into the Zero Pointer, unleashing One for All's devastating force and pulverizing the robot as though it were made of styrofoam. The steel behemoth was lifted off the ground and hurled back with a massive crash, utterly destroyed by the impact.

He hovered in the air for a moment, shocked by the degree of damage he'd done, but like all things under gravity's influence, he started to fall.

"Whoa, shit!" Izuku yelped, flailing to regain his balance. Crap, I gotta calm down! This is All Might's power, so I should be able to land alright now…

He was suddenly made aware of his right arm and both legs flopping around at it very unnatural angles. Izuku had time to blink at his ruined limbs before pain like nothing he'd ever felt before sent lightning through his nerves.

He screamed as he fell, clutching his destroyed arm with his left hand. Tears flew from his eyes and he struggled not to vomit.

I'm an idiot! This is All Might's power! I just barely got to the point that I can keep it in my body without it killing me! I went way overboard with it!

Izuku glared at the ground through blurry eyes, trying to gauge this distance. The only way he was surviving this fall was if he used One for All with his left arm. His own Quirk wasn't gonna help him here at all.

But if he used One for All again, it would destroy his left arm and he wouldn't be able to move at all. With just one point to his name, Izuku wouldn't be able to pass the exam.

He was just twenty feet off the ground when he decided his life was worth more than the exam and curled back his fist to set One for All loose again. But just as he was about to let it rip, a hand slapped his cheek and gravity ceased to effect him.

Izuku floated slowly to the ground, glancing to the side as he realized the girl who had been trapped had floated up on a piece of debris to save him. As they hovered just over the ground, the now nauseous-looking placed her fingertips against each other and groaned. "…release!"

They hit the ground at a safe distance, at which point the girl began to vomit and Izuku struggled to maintain his composure through the terrible pain in his broken limbs. "Th-thanks…!"

He started to crawl with his left arm, looking around desperately for a robot to attack even in his injured state. "I gotta get…more points…One won't…cut it…"

"TIME'S UP!"

Present Mic's voice rang through his eardrums and once he realized what the Pro had said, despair settled into Izuku's stomach. He let his head fall to the ground and gave up to the darkness taking over his vision, knowing that all his effort had been utterly wasted.

Several of the other examinees walked over, but kept a wary distance from him. They couldn't believe the devastation he'd caused with just one punch. Destroying a robot of the Zero Pointer's size with only one blow was crazy.

"Sheesh, what the hell was that?"

"He sent that huge thing flying with just one shot…"

"But he was so timid before the test started. How the heck does a guy with a Quirk like that end up being such a scaredy cat?"

The teen with the glasses was watching from further away as the school nurse, Recovery Girl, came up to take care of the injured boy. He was frowning deeply. They're all missing the point. He jumped in to save that girl. Even though he was lacking in points, he acted to protect her from that huge robot. If this hadn't been an exam…of course, I would have done the same thing!…wait a minute. Could…could that have been a part of the test?

He watched as Recovery Girl used her Quirk to heal Izuku's broken body, thinking hard about the exam. An epiphany struck him as he considered all the factors and realized what he was missing. I see! If the test is designed like that, then this kid…

A week later and Izuku was still a ball of nerves trying to get over the pit in his stomach. He'd recovered from his broken limbs, but his failure at the exam still hurt. Even at dinner, he stared at the fish on his plate for so long that his mother started to freak out a little. He ate a little, but he just didn't have much of an appetite.

As he sat on the couch that evening, curling a dumbbell in one hand half-consciously. Day after day, he had replayed the test in his head.

If I had to guess, I think I did pretty well on the written exam, Izuku thought to himself. But with just a single point on the practical exam, that grade won't matter at all. Even All Might hasn't gotten in touch with me since then…he's probably embarrassed by how badly I screwed up after spending so much of his time to train me. God, I should just give One for All back to him…can I do that?

"…The results from your test should be in today or tomorrow, right?" Izuku's mother, Inko, tried to start a conversation with him. She was as nervous as he was.

"I guess," he mumbled.

"Even if you don't pass, I still think it's amazing that you tried! A lot of people wouldn't have had the courage to do that, you know?"

"Yeah," Izuku sighed. He hadn't told his mother about All Might. He'd promised the man, after all, not to say a word about his true identity to anyone.

Mom probably thinks I tried to take the exam with my Quirk and flunked because I can't use it. She's not totally wrong, either…

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get some of the stress out of his body with a few deep breaths. "I'll just take the Support Course exam next week…"

"I-I-I-Izuku!"

He jumped and spun around as Inko came running into the living room from the front door, holding a single envelope in her hands. The pit in Izuku's stomach turned into a terrible black hole as he saw the U.A stamp on it.

"It's here!" Inko exclaimed, nervousness all over her face. Her son looked absolutely despondent.

Izuku took the envelope and retreated into his room, placing it on his desk. He could hear Inko pacing back and forth outside the door and it did absolutely nothing to help his own nerves. He spent a good fifteen minutes just staring at the envelope before he grabbed it harshly and ripped the thing open. Instead of a letter, a small metal disk clattered onto the desk.

"I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!"

He yelped as a video of All Might was projected onto the wall behind his desk from the metal disk. Izuku glanced back and forth from the disk to the projection in confusion for a few seconds. "Wh-what the- All Might?! Wait- this-this is from U.A, right? Huh?"

"Sorry kiddo! I had a lot of work to do so I couldn't get in touch with you!" The projection of All Might took a bow. "But it's all good! We'll be seeing more of each other since I'll be starting a teaching job at U.A!"

He looked like he was about to say something else that would drop further bombshells on Izuku's already strained brain, but the hero was distracted by someone out of frame. "What? Speed it up? I've gotta tell him a few things though…it's gonna push everything else back? How many more of these do I have to do again? Jeez, alright I got it!"

All Might cleared his throat and said the words that made every cell in Izuku's body feel like it weighed a ton. "You passed the written exam with flying colors, but you only got a single point on the practical. So of course, you didn't pass…if that were all!"

Izuku blinked in confusion. All Might gestured to a video screen behind him. "Observe, young man!"

A video began to play and Izuku realized that the girl who appeared in it was actually the one who had saved him from falling to death. She looked a little nervous as she approached Present Mic, whom she had called to get his attention. "Excuse me…I'm sorry to bother you, but there was a boy in my exam with curly hair and lots of freckles, um…he's kind of plain looking, you know?"

She was talking about him, Izuku realized. "Would it be possible to share some of my points with him? I heard him say that he'd only gotten a single point or something, so I guess he was struggling to pass…But he got really hurt and probably lost points trying to save me from that villain! Could you please at least give him the points he lost because of me?"

He swallowed hard. "She didn't have to do that for me…I…"

All Might paused the video and grinned at the screen. "What kind of Hero Course would it be if we turned down people who did the right thing? This ain't some second-rate school you tested for! The exam was not based solely on villain points!"

The video began playing again. Present Mic lifted a hand to pat the girl on the head, grinning in amusement. "No worries, lil' missy. You can't share points, but you won't have to."

All Might stepped in front of the screen as the video ended. "Laying your life on the line for other people is a huge part of being a hero. We had a special panel of judges looking for just that thing! You only got one villain point, but you scored big on the rescue points, kid! You got a grand total of sixty one points! And your friend who tried to help you out? Ochako Uraraka scored forty five points!"

He had to be dreaming. There was no way. No freaking way.

All Might's grin got a little softer. "You passed, kid."

The lump in his throat made it impossible for him to say anything. Izuku covered his face with one hand as tremors wracked his body. All Might held a hand out to him on the screen. "Come, young man. This is your hero academia!"

A/N: Yay, chapter two. I know I said I’d update weekly, but feedback has been going rather slow for the first chapter on this site, so I figured I’d throw the second one in now to spice things up a bit. Anyhow, hope you enjoy!

[morrisondauthor]

“By Any Means Necessary”

           The day my best friend Latasha committed suicide was definitely the worst day of my life. I had just talked to her that morning and then at around three-thirty that afternoon, there was an alert sent to everyone’s phones and email addresses on-campus saying to stay away from the campus library. I didn’t know what had happened until one of my other friends came and found me in my class and told me that Latasha had jumped from the nine-story library building and died after hitting the sidewalk headfirst below. Just like everyone else, I ran to the scene but it was already taped off and you couldn’t see anything. And then they brought out the stretcher with a body bag on it that contained her dead body. Looking back, I realize a part of me died in that moment.

           Latasha Reed had been my friend since we were eight years old. She was the first person I confided to at age thirteen that I was trans and wanted to transition. The craziest thing about what happened was that I was always the one contemplating suicide. I was made fun of and harassed almost every day of my life until I began attending Calhoun University. I still had to put up with ignorance but it wasn’t as bad as my high school years. The whole time, I had Latasha there to have my back. And I had hers, even in death. That’s the thing about death; no matter how it happens, it always causes a unique reaction. Latasha’s suicide turned me into someone I’d never been before: a vigilante.

           “Monique,” I called out as I caught up with her just as she was leaving the journalism building. “Thank God I caught you. I need a really big favor.”

           “Kendall,” she said, “I still haven’t decided who I’m going to let take over the fashion section of the school magazine this semester. You’re in the running but…”

           “No, that’s not the favor I need. Monique, I need to build my portfolio to show you guys what I can bring to the magazine. The offices have the best editing tools and Photoshop on their computers, so I was hoping maybe you could let me borrow your building access keycard for tonight? You’re the editor-in-chief of the magazine so I know you can let me borrow it. I promise I will have it back to you tomorrow.”

           “Kendall, I don’t know. I’ve never let anyone hold the access keycard for the building overnight, not even fellow journalism students who write for the school paper or work on the magazine or CougarTV. You’re just a contributor every now and then to the school newspaper.”

           “Monique, please.” I noticed her hair wasn’t done and offered, “Girl, I can hook up that hair for you. You know the spring senior kickback is this Friday.”

           “You know how to do hair?”

           “I did my own haircut last week.” I ran my hand through my hair.

           She looked at my hair and then quickly handed me the card and asked, “You do sew-ins?”

           “Do you have the weave?”

           “I can buy some today while on break at my job. There’s a little Korean store across the street from my job that sells hair.”

           “I’ll hook you up tomorrow at my apartment. You can get the keycard back then, too.”

           “What’s your address?”

           I gave her my address and then we walked off in different directions. As I headed towards the athletic dorm, I thought about everything I was going to have to do that day and night. It was crucial for me to get it all done before the next day. The next day would’ve been Latasha’s twenty-first birthday and I needed to let her know that I had her back. So, after I got to the athletic dorm, I texted Rakeem and asked was the coast clear. When he told me yes, I took the stairs instead of the elevator up to the fifth floor, where his dorm was.

                                         Me (Kendall Stone)

           “Get your sexy ass in here,” he said, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me into the dorm. “You want somethin’ to drink before we fuck?”

           “No, daddy,” I told him. “All I want is this.” I put my hand on the big dick print in his jeans.

           He scooped me up off my feet and took me into his bedroom. After closing and locking the door, he gently put me down on his bed and took off my heels. He massaged and kissed on my feet before saying, “Damn, every part of you is so fuckin’ sexy, boo. I don’t know why you won’t let me be your man.”

           “Because I’m all about the dick, baby. I don’t need a man. I just need some dick when I want it.”

           “I can give you the dick and be your man. I think I done caught feelings for you, Kendall.”

           “Are you gonna fuck me or you gonna keep acting like a bitch ass nigga?” I snatched my feet from his hands and spread my legs wide. “You know how I want it, daddy.”

           He laughed before getting completely naked and then snatched my clothes off. We went at it rough as usual and the whole time, I told myself this was for Latasha. Everything I had done since the day she committed suicide was for her. The truth was I didn’t give a flying fuck about Rakeem or the fact that he was developing feelings for me. He was a part of the reason why I lost my best friend. So my last time letting him fuck me wasn’t because I really wanted him that day. No, it was for an entirely different reason.

           Believe it or not, I ended up getting involved with Rakeem Peterson through the Badoo app. He was on the football team and I specifically put in my profile description that I loved football, hoping to get hit up by one of the players on the team. It was a longshot, but Rakeem hit me up after finding me in the ‘People Nearby’ function on the app. I clearly put that I was transgender in the description, so I knew he didn’t have a problem with it. We’d been having sex since the middle of January. He was sexy and fine but I kept my mind on my mission. Nothing was going to stop me by that point.

           “I swear you got the best ass I done ever been up in,” he told me while wiping sweat from his forehead. “Well, it’s the only ass I done ever been up in. Before you, I’d never been with a woman who has a dick.”

           “Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” I told him as I climbed out of his bed. “Because today was your last day getting it.”

           He chuckled and asked, “What?” When he saw that I wasn’t joking, his face became serious and he sat up in bed and asked, “Kendall, what are you talkin’ about?”

           “I’m here for one reason and one reason only, Rakeem. I want the video.”

           The moment I said that, his whole demeanor changed. He looked away from me for a few seconds and then back into my eyes before saying, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

           “Don’t you even try it you simple-minded motherfucker! You know what video I’m talking about!”

           “A’ight, you need to lower your fuckin’ voice and get the fuck outta here.”

           “Your teammates aren’t coming in from the gym for another hour. I’m not going anywhere, even if they get here first.”

           “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you think this is but…”

           “I am not leaving this dorm until I have that video, Rakeem. Do not fuck with me. You do not want to do that.”

           He balled his fists and climbed out of bed naked and told me, “I’m not givin’ you shit. So you need to get your wannabe woman ass outta here before I…”

           “Before you do what? Nigga, you lay one hand on me and I will scream so loud that everyone in this building will hear me. This shit is serious and you’re going to treat it seriously. Do I make myself clear?”

           He unclenched his fists and exhaled loudly before affirming, “Yes.”

           I quickly got dressed and he put back on his pair of jeans and stood by the door. After thinking for a few moments, I stared back into his eyes and reminded him, “Five of your teammates gang-raped my friend last semester in a hotel room and she killed herself just before finals in December.”

                                             Rakeem Peterson

           “I don’t know…”

           “Shut the fuck up! I mean it, Rakeem. You have no idea how close I am to the edge right now.” I calmed down and continued, “Latasha told me everything. She confided in me. And she told me that there’s a video. I told her to go to the police but she kept saying no one would believe her because the football team made it to the state championship last season and everybody will support them and not her.”

           “So, you want me to do what?”

           “Get me access to that video. I need to put a copy on my SD card.”

           “For what? You’re gonna go to the cops or somethin’?”

           “That is none of your concern. You’re not on the video so you don’t need to know what I’m going to do.”

           “Man, fuck this. I’ll just pretend that I never met you and I never fucked you. You’re a delusional tranny bitch that wanted me and couldn’t handle that I rejected his faggot ass.”

           I laughed before revealing, “I thought you might say something like that so I took a few extra precautions to make sure you’d play ball for me. I recorded us each and every time we fucked at my place. I have video after video after motherfucking video of you sucking my dick, eating my ass, letting me rim and finger you, and you fucking me. I would hate for everyone to see all of those hours of footage.”

           “You fuckin’ bitch I’ll…”

           “Once again, you lay a hand on me and I will scream. You really need to think about this, Rakeem. It’s either you save yourself at this point or I ruin you and your football career before it even gets started. You guys almost won the state championship. You’re all draft material this year for the pros.”

           “Don’t do this to me, Kendall. Please.” Tears began to form in his eyes. “What do you want? You want me to be your boyfriend? I can be that, baby. Just please don’t…”

           “I don’t want a damn thing from you but that video, Rakeem. This whole thing between us was fake. I don’t even like you. Not one bit. I fucking hate you. I hate the fact that you sick motherfuckers get away with so much shit! You think you can just rape someone and act like it didn’t happen?”

           “I ain’t rape nobody! I wasn’t even at the hotel when they did that shit to her!” The tears rolled down his face and he was shaking. “You can’t do this to me, Kendall. I feel bad that she killed herself, I really do. You gotta believe me.”

           “This isn’t about you. The only thing you can do for me is get me that video.”

           “And betray my brothers? I can’t let them go down for this. They got their whole lives ahead of them. What about them, Kendall?”

           “How dare you? My best friend is dead and all you can think about are your fucking teammates? What about her life? What about the things she won’t get to do because she’s dead?”

           “She killed herself, Kendall! Nobody told her to do that shit! Why should my brothers have to suffer for the rest of their lives over one mistake?”

           “Your brothers, huh? Your brothers are rapists! And the fact that you’re defending them tells me all I need to know about you. You’re all disgusting. You’re foul disgusting pieces of dog shit and I hope you fucking die. Now get me the fucking video! Get me that video!”

           He stood there with his chest heaving up and down for a little while as more tears fell from his eyes. And then, he stepped out of the room. I didn’t know what he was about to do but I was prepared to fight for my life if I had to. When he returned a few moments later with a laptop, I knew he was going to let me make a copy of the video. He sat the laptop on his dresser top and then woke it from sleep mode. It didn’t require a password so he was able to bring up the video quickly.

           “My teammate Reggie was one of them,” he told me. “This is his laptop. They all have the video and they’ve shown it to some of us but not all of us, only those they can trust not to say anything.”

           “Play it,” I told him as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I need to make sure it’s the real video before I copy it onto my SD card.”

           He played the video, which was nearly an hour long in length. I couldn’t watch all of it so I just had him click through the timeline to show it was the full video. They all took turns holding the camera as they raped her. I remember her telling me she’d been having sex with one of them regularly. His name was Jerrod. He tricked her into coming to that hotel that night after one of their playoff games and the five of them raped her. After inserting my SD card into the SD card slot and making a copy of the video, I ran out of that stank ass dorm as fast as I could. Six back-to-back showers weren’t enough to wash away the filth I felt all over—and inside—my body.

           “Kendall, I don’t have time for your mind games,” Theo said to me after answering my call.

           I sobbed before telling him, “Theo, I need you.”

           “Are you crying? Kendall, what’s wrong?”

           “Can you meet me under the bridge we used to meet up under sophomore year?”

           “Yeah, I can meet you there. Give me like twenty minutes. I need to take a shower real quick and I’ll be there. And Kendall?”

           “Yeah?”

           “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay. Alright?”

           “Alright.” I ended the call and cried because I wasn’t expecting him to be willing to meet up with me.

           Theo McCrary was my ex-boyfriend. I had a lot of classes with him freshman year and sophomore year by coincidence, and we ended up talking after getting paired up for a project. Although it was a closeted relationship, my relationship with him was pretty much the only good relationship I’d had in my life besides the platonic one I had with Latasha. Theo was caring and loving, and he wasn’t afraid of being in love or afraid of allowing himself to be vulnerable like a lot of cisgender heterosexual guys are. The only reason why our relationship failed was because I couldn’t handle him sleeping with so many other women to keep up his reputation. He was in a fraternity so his reputation was important to him. The only reason why I needed him so much was because he was a very smart computer technology major and his skills were crucial for me to do what I needed to do.

                                             Theo McCrary

           “What’s wrong?” he asked while hugging me. “Why are you crying?”

           “Because I really need your help,” I told him. “It’s about Latasha.”

           “Damn, I should’ve known it was about her. I’m so sorry, baby.” He pulled back and kissed my forehead. “I’ve been thinking about it, too. She was the only person who knew about us and she was so supportive.”

           “Yeah, she told me to stay with you and just deal with our issues because you’re the perfect guy for me. I miss her so much, Theo.”

           “Aw, baby.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me as I cried on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter that we’re not together anymore. I’m probably gonna love you forever.” He held me tighter and caressed my back.

           After taking a while to calm down, I rested my head on his shoulder and admitted, “I always thought it would be me. With all the horrible things that happen to transwomen of color in this country, I just knew one day I’d be dead and she’d be here trying to get me justice.”

           “Don’t talk like that, Kendall.”

           “It’s how I feel, Theo. God help me, but sometimes I wish it were me. Why did she have to go? I know why she did it but…”

           “Wait a minute; what do you mean you know why she did it? She didn’t leave a note or a letter behind. You don’t know why she did what she did, Kendall. You could never know a thing like that. When people decide to take their own lives, they’re usually not thinking clearly. Maybe she was suffering from some kind of mental...”

           “She was suffering from mental trauma after being raped, Theo.”

           “What?”

           I sat up and looked into his warm brown eyes as I explained, “Latasha was gang-raped by five football players. Jerrod Williams, Reggie Simms, Marlon Tyler, Dante Freeman and Philip Johnson gang-raped her at an out-of-town hotel after their first playoff game last season. She’d been involved with Jerrod and he set her up. They took turns recording it and after sticking to a plan involving blackmail where I had to have sex with Rakeem Peterson for a few months, I have a copy of the video.”

           He was silent for a while and then a single tear forced its way out of his right eye and rolled down the right side of his face. After taking in a shaky deep breath and exhaling, he told me, “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

           “I need you to enter the school of journalism building with me late tonight and program the video to play in the middle of tomorrow’s campus news broadcast. You can do something like that, right?”

           “Yeah, I’ll just need to create a computer virus to make it happen. Are you sure you want to do this though? What if people see something different going on in the video?”

           “I saw some of it.” Tears rushed to my eyes again as I explained, “She was screaming stop and she was hitting them, but they hit her back. They beat her, Theo. I can’t just send this video to the police because they’ll create a case without providing the evidence to the public. I don’t want my friend’s name dragged through the mud and people calling her a slut without knowing what really happened. As many students as possible need to see that video to know what those disgusting motherfuckers did to my friend. I want to take all of their power from them.”

           “Is there any way the football players or their coaches can know that you have a copy of the video?”

           “No. I told Rakeem that I recorded me and him every time we had sex at my place.”

           “Whoa. Did you?”

           “No, I was bluffing. I could never do something like that to someone. I thought about it but then I thought about the possibility of the footage getting into the wrong hands so I didn’t do it. I might hate his ass for covering for his teammates, but I would never ruin him like that. I decided to keep the relationship going and then today, exactly today, I decided to lie to him and tell him I’d recorded us every time so he would help me make a copy of the rape video.”

           “Why today?”

           “Because tomorrow would’ve been Latasha’s birthday. It’s the first time since before we knew each other when we were little kids that one of our birthdays is going to come around and one of us isn’t here so there’s no celebration. Theo, I had to do this. I didn’t have a choice. All of those times I contemplated suicide and now that she’s gone, I don’t have anyone else. I need this.”

           “I agree. But baby, you’re not alone in this. You have me. Whether you want to give our relationship another try or not, you have me, Kendall. I love you.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it as more tears filled his eyes.

           That night close to midnight, we entered the school of journalism building using Monique’s keycard. We gained access to the CougarTV studio where the campus news was broadcasted from. I stood watch by the door as he entered the producer’s area and did what he had to do. After a few minutes, he returned with my SD card in his hand and a smile on his face.

           “The virus I created worked,” he told me. “I got full access to the program’s main computer and I timed it perfectly. In the middle of tomorrow’s broadcast, the video is gonna play and they won’t see it coming.”

           “Thank you, Theo,” I said while hugging him. “I owe you for this.”

           “You can repay me now.”

           “How?”

           “By letting me spend the night with you tonight. I don’t want you to be alone.”

           “I’ll be fine, Theo.”

           “Well, I won’t unless I know for sure that you’re okay. I’ll sleep in Latasha’s old room or out on the sofa if you want me to. Please, baby. I’ll be worrying about you all night.”

           “Okay. You can spend the night at my place. But we’re not fucking.”

           He laughed and assured me, “I will be a total gentleman tonight. All I wanna do is hold you and make sure you feel safe tonight.”

           “Why do you always have to be so damn perfect? It makes me rethink breaking up with you.”

           “That’s the point, baby. That’s the point. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and we quickly left the building.

           I made sure to be on-campus in the library the moment the virus interrupted the campus news broadcast. It cut into the broadcast at exactly five-thirty-five. First, there was a brief message by Theo with his face pixelated and his voice distorted detailing what the video would show and revealing the names of the five players that had raped Latasha on that fateful night. Then, the video began to play. It took the campus news crew nearly ten minutes to figure out how to stop the virus and stop the video from playing. He’d even made it hard for them to control the broadcast signal, so everyone who was watching the live broadcast could also hear the crew panicking off-camera.

           “Happy birthday, Latasha,” I said quietly to myself.

           Immediately after the virus was stopped and the footage was yanked off-air, I emailed a copy of the video to the police department using a fake account that I’d made on the library’s computer. If they were to track the IP address, there would be no way of knowing which computer in the entire library sent the email. I was never going to log into that fake email account any other time outside of the library, so they’d never know it was me who sent the video to them. I quickly logged out of the account, removed my SD card from the computer and exited the library.

           I made it to the athletic dorm just in time to see the police arriving there. They went inside as a big crowd began to form out in front of the building. When the police came back down and outside with Jerrod, Reggie, Marlon, Dante and Philip; everyone booed at them and some people threw things at them, causing the police to make everyone back up. As pleased as I was to see the beginning of justice being done, it was a bittersweet moment. It didn’t matter that their football careers were over. It didn’t matter that the truth was out and there would be no way to spin it. It didn’t matter how many years they would get in prison for doing what they did to Latasha. The fact remained that she was gone forever. I’d never get to see her beautiful smile again or hear her sweet laugh. I know it was irrational but I felt so guilty. Why was I still on this earth and she wasn’t?

           “I understand why you did it,” Rakeem said to me, startling me a little. “What my teammates did was wrong. What I did was wrong. I apologize. Now can I please have the videos you have of us? If they get out, I’ll lose everything I care about.”

           “There never were any videos of us, Rakeem,” I admitted. “I’m so sorry I put you through that but I had to get justice for my friend. Rape happens so much on college campuses and when it’s committed by popular student athletes, it just gets swept under the rug. This…this fucked up violence happens to transwomen like me in this country every single day.”

           He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to us before asking, “So, that makes it okay for you to do what you did?”

           “Yes. I’d do it the same damn way if I had to do it all over again. And if my plan hadn’t worked, I was going to do something crazy. I was going to kill your teammates and then take my own life. That was my backup plan. So, I am sorry that I hurt your feelings but the pain I have been walking around here with every single day since my best friend took her own life is a pain that you could never understand.” My voice cracked and I began crying, so I couldn’t finish what I wanted to say to him.

           “I still like you, Kendall. I know what we had goin’ these last couple of months wasn’t real but I thought it was, and I started fallin’ for you. I meant what I said, I’m sorry about what happened to your friend. I wish there were something else I could do about that.”

           “There is, Rakeem.” I wiped my tears before looking back into his eyes and telling him, “Speak up and speak out. There is simply no way we are going to win this battle against rape culture and other cultures of violence without help from men like you. We need you, Rakeem.”

           I wasn’t sure if my words would reach him, but I said them nonetheless. He looked at me for a while and then headed back towards the dorm building. I turned around and went back to my car, which was still parked in the library parking lot. While sitting in my car, I could’ve sworn I heard the sound of Latasha’s laugh in my ear. I thought I was going crazy until a gust of wind blew a small slip of paper onto my windshield. On the paper, the message, ‘thank you,’ was written in blue pen ink. The handwriting was Latasha’s. For the first time that day, I smiled.

           “What are you doing here?” I asked Theo as I found him sitting against the guardrail outside of my apartment.

           “After spending the night here with you last night,” he explained as he stood to his feet, “I realized how much I missed you and how good it made me feel knowing I was keeping you safe. Kendall, we’ve been broken up for a minute and I still feel the same way about you. I don’t want us to be apart anymore, baby. I promise I will figure out a way to make this work between us.”

           “I don’t know, Theo. I’m not sure if it’s worth us giving it another try.”

           “Baby, out of all the women I’ve been with in my life, I never felt this way about them. I’ve never been in love with anyone before I fell for you. You told me yesterday about how Latasha pressured you to get back with me. You came to me yesterday so that I could help you get justice for her. Can’t you see it baby? This is a sign.”

           I thought about what he said and then I smiled before telling him, “Come on. Let’s go inside so we can discuss this over dinner.” He smiled back at me as I grabbed his hand and led him into my apartment.

[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.

© D.A. Morrison 2017

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch.1

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m back on my garbage and writing for a new fandom, and I’m not sorry about it! Now, I doubt anyone who followed my previous writing is going to read this, but just in case I’ll give a disclaimer. This IS going to be the same concept from my old series Breaking. As you all know, I hate that story and wish I had done a better job with it, I’m considering this to be my way to do the idea justice. If you are new to my stories, Welcome new potential friend! I will respectfully ask you to not look into Breaking, only because it isn’t good, could possibly spoil the way this fic is gonna work, and is NOT for the RDR fandom in anyway. I’m really excited to be writing this story, and I’m hoping to make it better! I hope you enjoy it! I’m so sorry for this long note, please forgive me!

Word count: 5981

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Summary: After a bank job with your friends goes wrong, the world decides to toss you into an old yet new world. But is this random chance a blessing or a curse? Find out by going through this semi-choose your own adventure and see what consequences you reap. 

A/N pt.2: There won’t be any choices for this chapter because it’s mainly set up, but expect some in the chapters to come! I hope you have a good time! If anyone would like to be tagged, you can message me, comment, or send an ask! Don’t be shy! :D This does not have a set character x reader because guess what? It’s gonna be partially your choice, babes! I hope you can be patient with me until this feature is implemented. 

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes. “Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner. “This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in 2019, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!” “Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat. “Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. “We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right. “Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. “Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. “Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI can get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” “6.” Austin corrected. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” “She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. “Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?” “Yes’ir.” “I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. “You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.” “Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. The doors were kicked in. “EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. “Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. “Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” “I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. “I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. “Staying alert, Dove?” “Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. “Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. “I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. “Take the shot!” “Fuck you!” “Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. “Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. “Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. “Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. “At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. “And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. “Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. “Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” “There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.” “And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. “We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. “They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. “Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!” “In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” “We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. “Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.” “What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. “Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. And falling. The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared.

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. “I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? “Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. “You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. “Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. “Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!” “Who?” “Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“ “I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. “Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. “Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. “Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. “You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. “James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. “Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.   “I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty- “HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. “Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. “Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. “Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. “That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. “Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?” “Yeah, what’s it to ya?” “Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. “I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” “Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. “Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. “Where are you from, son?” “California.” That was a safe enough answer. “James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. “I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” “I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. You handed the gun back to Dutch. “Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk. “I think I like kid!” “Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside. “Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. “Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. “Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you leapt through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. “What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. “We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language. “Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan. “Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” “Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. “Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. “They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. “Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. “Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments. “It’s no problem, ma’am.” “Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets. “Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. “Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. “Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward. “Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. “Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?” “We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What? “What?” “Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking? “It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry. “Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled.

 Everything was black.

[mollyshaj]

30.

Three Years Later - June 17, 2016

Mariah

Walking in my house I shook my head when I saw Damien sitting in the living room playing that video game like he always does. I swear to God you cannot get that little nigga off that thing. It’s cool though, he’s out the way when he plays that. He needs to play it in his room though, I don’t know why he gotta be in the damn living room all the time.

“Damien, is your father here?” I asked him after stepping in front of the TV. He sucked his teeth but pressed pause on his game. “Lose the attitude I’m just asking a question.”

“I know, he was in the kitchen the last time I checked. He probably went upstairs though.”

“Alright thanks,” I mushed his head playfully then went upstairs. Before I could walk down to the bedroom I shared with Tristan I stopped and opened the door to Jayce’s bedroom then walked in. “What are you doing?” I questioned when I saw her typing away on her laptop.

“Finishing my book report. This is my last assignment for this class then we’re done.” She answered. “You’re home early,” She turned and looked at me and I couldn’t help but smile at her. Jayce is so damn beautiful and she’s growing prettier every day. Shit, I feel a great sense of pride just looking at her sometimes.

“I know I let Rachel close the store down tonight. I didn’t want to be there longer than necessary.” My store Material Girl, opened two years ago and business has been booming since we opened. The only problem with my store was it kept me busy. Running the store dealing with my kids and Tristan’s big headed ass always had me on the go. I never really got the chance to just sit back and relax.

“Okay, well I have a question. It’s really a question for you and Tristan but I think it’s easier to ask you first.”

“Oh lord, what is it?” If she’s scared or hesitant to ask Tristan anything that means she either wants to go somewhere or it’s about a boy.

“You know that boy Lucas, the one that goes to my school?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well he asked me out so can I go?”

“I personally don’t mind you going but Tristan isn’t going to see it that way.” To say Tristan was over protective over Jayce would be an understatement.  He really goes psychotic over her; she doesn’t even like him coming to the school because his grown ass doesn’t know how to act.

“That’s why I want you to talk to him. He only asked me to go to the party the school throws. That’s completely chaperoned and no I don’t need one of y’all to be there.”

“I’ll talk to him; I’m not making any promises though.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Alright did y’all eat?”

“I did earlier when I first came in from school. Tristan said you were cooking.”

“He got me fucked up, get dressed and tell Damien to get dressed to we’re going out.” I walked out of her bedroom and walked down to mine.

Tristan was lying across the bed with our daughter Chase lying on his back watching ESPN. I swear to God this nigga was determined to turn her into a tom boy. “Hey baby,” Tristan said when I walked in the room.

“Hey,” I went over to the bed and kissed him on the lips before picking Chase up and kissing her cheek. “You might wanna get up bruh; we’re going out to eat. I’m not cooking.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to that’s why, come on get your big ass up. I’m going to get her ready, you handle whatever you need to handle.” I walked out of the bedroom and went right next door to Chase’s room and put her in her crib. “You ready to look pretty baby girl?”

Our daughter Chase Amari Myers was born on September 20, 2013. She was a week late and took me through 15 hours of labor before she popped her little ass out of my body. As if birthing her wasn’t bad enough, she’s spoiled as hell. Tristan literally gives her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. He doesn’t know the word no unless he’s talking to Damien and Jayce and even then he still doesn’t say it as much as he needs to.

Chase wasn’t the only thing that was new for us, we just moved into this big beautiful house twenty minutes away from Ebony and Kaylin last year. Granted it’s not as big as theirs, we have five bedrooms four bathrooms but I didn’t need that much space anyway. Jayce and Damien were both mad about having to switch schools but they eventually got over it.

I was going through Chase’s clothes when my phone started vibrating in my pocket so I pulled it out and looked at it. When I saw it was Ebony I answered. “What’s up Eb?”

“Not a damn thing, I’m bored as shit. What are you doing?”

“About to get Chase dressed, we’re about to go out to eat. You wanna come with us? Y’all can meet us at that Italian restaurant we always go to.”

“That’s cool with me, we’ll see you there. Thirty minutes good?”

“Yeah that’s fine. You spoke to Nicole?”

“Not since last night, you know she and Rashad are off on one of their littler voyages. The plus of not having kids I tell you.” I shook my head chuckling because she was right.

Nicole and Rashad are always taking a trip somewhere. They just went to LA in April, now they’re out in the Virgin Islands. I hate them so much sometimes, lucky bastards.

“You got that right; it’s cool though because I want to go to Paris for my honeymoon. I already told Tristan he better not try and get cheap with me, I’ll slap his ass.” I told Ebony and she laughed.

“The last thing that nigga is cheap, wait the way he proposed to you was kind of cheap. Actually it’s not kind of the shit was cheap.” She joked.

“He’s lucky I’m not an ungrateful ass bitch.” Tristan proposed to me on New Year’s Day and as much as I thought he would try and go all out to surprise me his ass got pissy drunk at Kaylin’s party and when we got home he pulled the ring out and asked me. I laughed at his ass but said yes. When he woke up he didn’t even remember asking me. That man is dumb as hell sometimes.

“You love him that’s why you’re not ungrateful but fuck that I been meaning to tell you something. Tell me why I ran into that nigga Rio the other day when I was taking Jayden to get his haircut.”

“Are you serious? I thought his crazy ass was in jail.”

“He was but he’s out now. Girl the nigga was screaming my name and shit. I just grabbed Jayden’s hand and left.”

“I told you to stop taking his ass all the way to JC to get a haircut. You should take him to the same place Kaylin goes.”

“I never had problems taking that drive though, plus he knows Dave and I know he’s not going to bullshit with my baby’s head. I don’t know, running into that nigga really freaked me out.”

“Did you tell Kaylin?”

“Hell no, you know how he is. Let him find out the nigga that was beating my ass is out of jail he’s going to lose his damn mind.”

“Well what are you going to do? Hide it?”

“I don’t know, I just saw him one time. Hopefully I won’t run into him again. Fuck him though, we’ll see you at the restaurant.”

“Alright.” I ended the call then shook my head.

Ebony was really playing with fire trying to keep running into Rio a damn secret. Rio, or Mario as the law knows him is a complete nut and he’s Ebony’s ex. She met him maybe two years after Quan first left. They weren’t together for six months before he started putting his hands on her. It got so bad that she ended up in the hospital with three broken ribs, a broken wrist and a fractured leg behind that nigga breaking in her house after he heard she was supposedly giving her number out to other niggas.

Luckily she wasn’t that damn dumb and got his ass put in jail but obviously he wasn’t locked down too long if she ran into him. I don’t understand why she’s hiding it from Kaylin, he got rid of Quan’s ass he can get rid of Rio but that’s on her. I’m going to mind my damn business.

After getting Chase dressed and ready I took her down to Jayce’s room so she could watch her while I got myself together. Once I was dressed and ready we all left and headed down to the restaurant.

We sat there for about ten minutes when Ebony finally came walking in with Kaylin and Jayden. “Hey y’all,” I got up and gave all three of them a hug. They said what’s up to everybody then sat in their seats.

“Where’s baby girl at Kay?” I asked him about Angelic. She was the sweetest little girl ever but she was hyper as hell at the same time.

“With her mother, she’s with us next weekend.” Once everybody ordered their food, Jayden and Damien were sitting next to each other talking basketball or whatever else and Jayce was on her phone doing something with Chase.

“You see that picture Nicole put on Instagram?” Ebony asked me.

“Nah, let me see.” She pulled her phone out and scrolled around for a minute before finally handed me the phone since she was right next to me. I looked at the picture and started laughing.

xbrownbeautyx

xbrownbeautyx: how is he with you if we ain’t even in the country? Bitch don’t flatter yourself my nigga don’t want you, you won’t be getting my life. Get the fuck over it.

“Oh Lord,” I shook my head. “She doesn’t throw shade she just chops your ass in the throat.”

“Kay told Rashad he better do something about that bitch.” Ebony shook her head.

“I don’t understand why she’s so pressed. They never even fucked before. These bitches be out here losing their mind for no reason.”

“For real, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that bullshit. Y’all have some damn patience. How is everything going with his mama?”

“Court in a few weeks, we already know we’re going to win and keep full custody.” Two years ago Tristan and I ended up getting temporary custody of Damien because his mother is a complete idiot. She met some nigga and started dating him, I guess she thought it would make Tristan jealous but it didn’t. This bitch wasn’t even with him four months before she moved him in that house.

Come to find out not only was he a fuckin’ alcoholic he was a dip head. Dip is basically cigarettes and or blunts dipped in chemicals, mostly embalming fluid. Being where I’m from I’ve seen a lot of dip heads and that shit is not only fucked up its makes them crazy and violent.

Tristan and I knew nothing about her moving him in the house until one night Damien calls Tristan crying talking about that nigga was beating the shit out of his mother. I sent Chase and Jayce next door with Mc. Cicely, an old woman I was living next to while we rode over to this girl’s house.

When we got there we could hear her ass screaming from outside. Tristan busted in the house and ran to the living room and Carmen was standing there beat the fuck up, face all black and blue yelling and screaming while this nigga was beating on Damien. I’ve never seen Tristan explode like he did that night.

He pushed the man off Damien and dragged his ass outside the house and proceeded to beat him the fuck up. Usually I would rush to stop him from doing something stupid but I had to let him get them licks in because it was necessary at this point. I don’t know who, but somebody ended up calling the cops. Just as the police was pulling up Tristan picked that nigga and slammed in on the front of somebody’s car so bad the whole damn windshield shattered.

They arrested him while I stayed back and tried to figure out something with Damien and Carmen. When the ambulance came around to look at their bruises they ended up transporting everybody to the hospital. Tristan called my phone and basically told me to stay and figure out what was going on with his son, he just wanted me to call Kaylin or Rashad to come bail him out. I called both of them niggas and they went and got him.

While in the hospital I learned that not only did Damien have bruises on him from that nigga putting his hands on him that night. He had bruises that looked a few days old and the only way that was happening was if Carmen had been letting that nigga beat her son. Sure Tristan disciplines him but he doesn’t beat him like that. Damien didn’t want to talk in front of the doctors but once he was left alone with me he told me everything.

That man Carmen was with was beating on both of them the whole time he was staying there and was telling Damien if he told Tristan he was going to kill Carmen so he kept his mouth shut. The only reason he called Tristan that night was because this time the psycho pulled out a gun.

The next day when Tristan was released we were still at the hospital because they wanted to keep Damien overnight. I went and picked up Jayce and Chase and took them to Ebony’s. When we all got back to the hospital and I told Tristan everything his son told me it literally took Kaylin, Rashad and about three security guards to get him away from Carmen because he was trying to kill that bitch. If we weren’t in the hospital I probably would’ve let him.

Tristan took Damien home with us and filed for full custody the next day. He didn’t try to get her locked up he just wanted his son with us and he’s been with us ever since. Now we were going to our final court date in a couple of weeks to find out if we won. The lawyer basically guaranteed us custody but we still had to go.

To say Carmen is salty as fuck about her son being us full time would be an understatement. If she didn’t hate me before she definitely did now. Damien refuses to talk to her, he doesn’t want anything to do with her at this point and she thinks I’m the reason. As if I have mind control over her son and told him to hate her ass. The bitch is always popping shit on social media and now one of her cousins that used to talk to Rashad back in the day is starting shit with Nicole.

The bitch is playing on her phone, stalking her social media accounts being annoying and lying on her pussy. Claiming Rashad if fucking her and shit and we all know that’s a lie. I don’t even get why the bitch so pressed. Nicole and Rashad have been together for years at this point and everybody knows it so why the bitch is acting like she doesn’t know that and faking like she hurt is beyond me. I personally feel like Carmen is putting her up to it. She can’t get to me because it would be bad for her case so she wants to annoy my friend. The bitch just doesn’t know Nicole is with the shit, she’ll drag both of those bitches.

Shit was just over dramatic with Nicole and I right now as far as relationships are concerned. Luckily Ebony didn’t have crazy ex problems, she and Brandi were actually getting along. They didn’t hang out with each other or anything but they don’t have any issues or anything. They actually speak and have conversations when they see each other. My bestie is growing up for real because five years ago, Ebony would’ve still been mean to the girl.

“You know she’s going to be coming for you once the custody is official right?” Ebony asked knocking me out of my thoughts. I shrugged my shoulder before taking a sip of my drink.

“I really don’t give a flying fiery fuck; she can come at me and get her ass whooped if she wants to. I’ve been waiting to drop that whore for years.”

“She needs her ass whooped for real.”

“I know and she’ll get it. I’ll see that bitch around. Just wait.”

Nicole

“I’m not ready to leave man.” I told Rashad as we were packing our clothes. We’ve been in the St. Thomas for the past week and I was not ready to go back home.

“Me either but we gotta get back to the real world. Besides you keep going back and forth with bitches on the Gram anyway.”

“I’m not going back and forth I’m just setting the bitch straight. Posting pictures of you like you’re around her when we aint even in the country. The only reason I did it was because I know her raggedy ass friends and that thirsty ass cousin of hers be watching my damn page.”

“Just ignore her; you know I’m not fucking that bitch. You know I never fucked that bitch so fuck what they’re talking about.”

“I can’t make any promises about that. You know I don’t like lying so therefor I’m just going to say I’ll mind my business as long as the bitch stays in her lane.”

“Do you Nicole; just don’t bring that messy shit home.”

“I got you on that.” After we were done packing we left the hotel we were staying at then went straight to the airport where we had to wait about an hour before even boarding the plane.

Once we were seated in first class I looked at Rashad. “What’s the next destination?”

“I don’t know, I was going to leave that up to you. I don’t mind going to Paris again. That was a good time.”

“Yeah, but I want to go somewhere we’ve never been before. That’s the hard part.” Rashad and I take advantage of the fact that we have no kids. We were together, I love him and he loves me but we weren’t settled down like Ebony and Mariah were. There weren’t any kids running around our place and we didn’t have anything stopping us from doing whatever we wanted.

They had the houses in the suburbs and shit while Rashad and I still lived in the city. We did move out of his one bedroom condo and into a two story, four bedroom, three bathroom penthouse apartment. Hell, the only reason I wanted the extra room was because I knew our friends were going to have us on babysitting duties which neither one of us had a problem with.

“What about Rome?”

“That’s a good one, I like that idea.”

“Alright then, Rome it is. We’re going to set that shit up for August.”

“Cool. You think they had everything straight at the hotel while I was gone?”

“I didn’t get any calls but you never know. You just gotta see when you go in.” I was running The Carter Hotel in New York for Rashad, that’s how I made my money.

When I first started working there I was just looking over the employees and helping him organize everything but after a year he basically promoted me to the manager of the entire of hotel. Of course it’s some employees that had an issue with my being there but I really couldn’t give a fuck. The only reason they don’t like my ass is because Rashad and I are together plus I don’t play games at all. I run a tight ship which is why it’s making as much money as it does.

After the four hour flight back to New York I called an Uber to get us back to our place. When we got up to our apartment I went straight to the bedroom to lie down. The only thing I hate about traveling is missing my bed. Nothing felt better than being in my own shit.

“Baby, you hungry?” Rashad asked me when he came in the room.

“Yeah, you wanna order something?”

“Nah, I gotta go check on some shit so I’ll just bring you something back. I’ll only be gone for like an hour.”

“Alright, text me when you’re done doing whatever you’re going to I’ll tell you what I want then so you won’t forget and bring back some bullshit.” I smirked at him. Rashad’s memory is fucked up sometimes. He forgets the simplest shit and instead of asking about it he just takes a guess.

“I’m not going to forget but do that.” He came over and kissed me on the lips then walked out. “Love you ma!” He shouted from down the hall.

“Love you too!”

A smile came on my face while I got up to take a quick shower. Once I was good and clean I threw on one of Rashad’s old football jerseys and a pair of his boxers before sitting on my bed and calling Ebony. I didn’t really get to talk to them much while I was gone and I needed a good laugh.

“Are you finally back bitch?” Ebony asked when she answered her phone. I didn’t get a hi or anything the bitch went straight to questioning me.

“Well damn, hello to you too.”

“My bad,” She laughed. “What’s good Nic. Are you back?”

“Yeah we just got back home actually. Rashad went to go do something and get us some food so now I’m just sitting here. What are you doing?”

“I just got in the house from a photo shoot.”

“Ooh shit, what magazine this time?”

“Not for a magazine, this hair company. I forgot the name of it but their hair is the shit. Got this shit flowing all down my back. You know they send me free shit just to promote it.”

“Yeah and they pay your ass lovely. Who said you can’t make money off Instagram?”

“Dummies, shit I make stacks just for taking a picture of some damn jewelry and posting the shit.”

“What happened with that offer you got?”

“I’m not doing no damn Love & Hip Hop. I almost pissed myself when Viv told me they contacted her about me. The fuck I look like going on that shit and making a complete fool of myself.”

“Yeah they will have your ass doing some pure divine bullshit. Take it as a compliment, that means your name is out here bitch.”

“Oh please, that’s a bad thing as much as it’s a good thing. The great part is I’m making my money. The fucked up part is people think they know my life or think they know me. Calling me a damn IG model, no bitch I’m a professional model signed to an agency who just so happens to milk the shit out of that dumb ass app.” Ebony said in a serious tone.

The one thing that pisses Ebony off is trying to down play her and what she’s done. She’s been grinding hard as hell for the last few years and working her ass off. She’s graced the covers of numerous magazines and she was bent over fucking a rapper, shaking or showing her ass to do it. She did more than just post pictures with that nasty ass Flat Tummy Tea. Call her an IG model if you want to, you might get slapped.

“People are going to hate Ebony don’t let that shit get to you. You know you work your ass off fuck everybody else. Shit, you think I care about those bitches at that hotel hating on me? Talking about I don’t do my job, I’m just there because I’m fuckin’ Rashad. I had to curse one of those bitches out and fire her ass before we left.”

“What happened?” Ebony laughed again. For whatever reason this bitch thinks me going off is funny.

“First of all the bitch was already on thin ice because she’s a fuckin’ idiot and she’s always later or calling out. So because she barely comes to work her check is bullshit and she came at me about it talking about I’m jealous of her and that’s why I docked her pay and that I wouldn’t be shit if I wasn’t fuckin’ Rashad.”

“Oh hell nah, what did you say?”

“I went clean off on that hooker. I looked at her and was like I don’t know who the fuck you take me for but you really got life fucked up. I said Rashad is my man so the fuck what, that has nothing to do with how I do my job which I do quite well thank you very much bitch. Now you check looks like shit because you barely bring your dumb ass to work. The fuck you think you automatically obligated to money because your name is on the pay roll? No bitch the hours have to worked and you don’t do that so you can take that shitty ass paycheck and get the fuck out because you’re fired any way. Then I walked back to my office.”

“Wow Nic, you probably hurt the bitch feelings and everything.”

“I don’t care either, bitches really be having life fucked up. I’m about to be 30 years old I don’t have to be dealing with these dummies. I’m running out of patience my nigga.”

“Oh do not bring up age please, I’m 28.”

“So? You say that like you’re old.”

“I know but come on man my baby is 11 years old he’s almost a teenager. Angelic is 3 going on 30, that little girl is a mess.”

“You think you got it bad, Mariah is in the house with two teenagers and a toddler. I’m pretty sure Tristan is going to fuck around and get her pregnant again just wait.” I laughed.

“He probably will, when are you and Rashad going to pop one out?”

“When I have a ring on my finger and say I do, I got him until then I’m good.” It wasn’t my desire to be a baby mama. I’m good.

“I feel you; I told Kay the same thing. You know he’s asking me about a baby and shit. I told his ass I got you after we all have the same last name. If I marry him Jayden’s last name is getting changed to King just like mine.”

“Good, that’s his father they need the same last name.”

“Yeah well his father is irking my nerves with this baby shit, if we’re not arguing about that we’re arguing about some other shit.”

“Y’all are out of that honeymoon phase and real life is setting in. You’ll be fine, y’all love each other.”

“I know but damn shit is just rough right now.”

“Rough how Eb?”

“It just is, we argue all the time. Sure we have good days and when we’re good, we’re good. When shit is bad, it’s bad. If we argue I don’t even sleep in the damn room with him. I’m talking about me going to bed in the damn guest room for five nights straight in the past week Nicole.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I don’t even know but I’m over this shit man, and then I ran into Rio the other day and now he’s stalking my fuckin’ pages. I block his ass and he pops up again, this nigga is on this crazy bullshit.”

“When the fuck did he even get out?”

“I don’t know but he’s out and he’s on my ass. This nigga is really buggin’ I’m scared to go to my bookings because this bitch boy might pop up.”

“You told Kaylin?”

“Hell no if I tell him he’s not going to let me out of his sight and I don’t have time to be following his ass around when I have my own shit to handle.”

“You need to tell him, the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’ll be fine Nicole, and don’t go running your mouth to Rashad.”

“I’m not but you still need to say something. I’ll keep quiet for now but as soon as I get the feeling something is going on I’m snitching.”

“Yeah alright I hear you, I gotta go cook for these kids. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, later.” I ended the call the put my phone down. Ebony is as stubborn as they come. Let Kay find out this nigga been damn near stalking her and she’s keeping it quiet. She thinks they’re into it now he’s really going to have a fit.