#still goin & i wasn’t goin to say nothin but i was listening this time bc he did welsh last time which made me laugh but then he was like

[bibleofficial]

have the urge just to start yelling like at the top of my lungs i think it’s bc i haven’t had real cigarettes in like a few days bc i ran out & cba to buy more & similarly cba to roll em so i’ve just been vaping

[boognish-worshipper]

Remember the Rain

praying this is the final part of “Sunrise, Sunset” by the time i’m done omg ,, lamar finally talks it out with frank. i was tryna keep the titles consistent with a sky theme? wasn’t sure what to name this one at first, but i settled on naming it after a i song that i felt was sorta fitting lol ,, also lamar’s dramatic when drunk, that’s jus how it’s gonna be

oh and i included one last convo w/ that psychic lady bc each character got three opportunities to speak to her lol

//

The night Franklin and him fought was the third night in a row Lamar couldn’t sleep right. Then it became four. Then five. Six. He had hoped after the first couple days of Franklin being mad, that it’d all blow over and things would go back to normal. That he wouldn’t ever have to say anything about what he felt deep down. Even though he told himself he had to, he wouldn’t. He waited it out, and still hoped it would all just fucking blow over. That wasn’t what happened of course.

An overcast sky was spread over LS, light rain tapping against Lamar’s window. As cheesy as it was, it reflected how he felt. Another day had passed. Franklin wasn’t picking up, not even reading his texts, nothing. He called a couple times at first when the fourth day of the silent treatment occurred, then tried a few more times to contact him in the following days. It had grown into a long and sad string of texts.

franklin.

dog

plz

pick up

answer me

plz?

c’mon frank i told you i have nothin goin on with yo auntie

i wanna talk things out with you.

u ain’t let me finish explaining

text me when u read this. plz bro

He sighed. This was hopeless. He set his phone aside, still laying awake. A buzz came right after. Fucking finally, something.

fuck you

we got nothin to discuss

He didn’t know how to feel. This was fucking him up and he couldn’t think straight. He tried calling him once more, the ringing as he waited for a pick up mocking him. Voicemail yet again. How many messages had he tried leaving at this point?

for fucks sake frank pick up

u ain’t doin this to me rn

jus let me explain myself

He stared at the ceiling yet again, like it would have all the answers sprawled out for him. As he did, he focused on how the rain had picked up, coming down harder. Then he felt his phone buzz.

no

now stop blowing my phone up

i’m tryna sleep

Lamar was never one to be sensitive, but he felt so crushed right now that all he could do was cry silently to himself. He didn’t even have Chop around anymore to comfort him like he normally would whenever Lamar was going through something. Would he even see him again? He lived over at Frank’s now. Fuck. Did this mean they’d have to share custody now? If he wasn’t so upset, he most likely would’ve laughed at the idea of it. He was letting bad thoughts consume him, turning to a last minute resort of drinking to try stopping it. This kind of thing rarely happened to him, these kind of feelings weren’t common. He knew no other method of trying to stuff bad feelings down, working through a 6 pack of beer on his own, followed by a bottle of some type of random liquor. Anything to stifle the pain in his chest, although it didn’t accomplish much other than making him feel even more queasy. He left one last voicemail, choking back a sob. Or what he had thought would be the last one. He lost count.

“Franklin. Please jus’ talk to me already man. You- you believin’ what you wanna believe right now, you ain’t even givin’ me a chance. You my best fuckin’ friend, don’t that mean shit to you anymore? We.. homies n shit.” He sniffled, cringing to himself when he said the words “best friend”. Franklin was so much more than that to him.

“Ion… Ion think I can live without you in my life. You can’t hate me man that shit.. that’s fucked. This is fucked. I’m fucked.”

A strong feeling of humiliation hung around him for many reasons, one being that he was fully crying now, over the phone. He couldn’t get any lower.

“You jus’ mad right now. But you.. you won’t be, eventually. Right? Please get back to me soon. Please. I’d rather fuckin’.. die or sum’ than have you hatin’ me n shit. At this point I might as well.”

After hanging up, he decided to visit that site one last time. His tears blurred his vision, making it harder to type. The shit in his system didn’t help either.

lady

i fuckef up

thsi is yo faukt

What now? Why are you back?

frankljn hates me

He does? That’s not right.

damn straighy it fuckign isnt

No, I mean that’s not correct.

There’s no way that he could, even if it seems like it right now.

jus fuckin tell me whst to do

That’s out of my hands.

is not u fuckin wirch

*withc

*witch

Look, I really don’t know how else to help you. I don’t have any other visions to offer. You’re on your own.

They do say though, that dreams are visions themselves.

dont fukcin speak in riddles rn

Precognition, Lamar. Just have faith

prewhatnow

n yeah. faith. bc that helps so fuckn much

All I can say to you is good luck - it’s all coming together. Just wait.

th fuck does that mean?

It means that you’re stressing too much - you better sleep it off. Farewell Lamar. You’re gonna have a killer hangover you know…

SERVICE UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.

The notification did nothing but make him more upset. He calmed down eventually, the crying and alcohol tiring him out. He blacked out soon after, not remembering when he fell asleep.

For the first time in a while, he dreamt about the two of them. The start of the dream showed a radiant sight before them, the sky lit up in a million shades. Chop was laying beside Franklin, head on his thigh. All three of them sat on a grassy knoll, a soft breeze blowing through each blade. Franklin turned, Lamar not taking his eyes off him since the dream started. He only noticed the sky’s wide color palette because the intensity struck Franklin’s face just right. He looked right into Lamar’s eyes, speaking softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What?”

“You had so many opportunities. So many times, I thought that you would. I got my hopes up, you know. I waited. When Tanisha left.. I only had you.”

“Tanisha..”

“I still love her. I.. I think apart of me always will, but I love you just the same. Even if you drive me up a Goddamn wall sometimes. You both mean the world to me.”

Franklin looked back at the view ahead. A heavenly indigo replaced the vivid hues from before.

“But she’s gone now. Shit ain’t the same. All I know is you stayed when she didn’t. Even when she got pulled outta the hood and made some kinda new life for herself, you never left my side. Never changed yo loyalties.”

He turned back to face Lamar again. His eyes were glassy, the glow of the midnight sky reflecting in them.

“So why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”

“Franklin.. I ain’t deduce that shit ‘til now.“

“You really didn’t know?”

Even in the dream he could feel that previous frustration occur in his mind. Was he hiding in a glass closet or something? He could only let out a wry laugh.

“Yeah man. I was a fuckin’ fool, jus’ like you always said.”

“Damn straight.” He chuckled, and Lamar came to the conclusion that he could listen to that laugh forever. Franklin’s face then fell solemn.

“Y’know I really thought that.. I really thought that you jus’ got with someone else. Not even jus’ my Aunt. I saw how you wanted to get away from me, and I thought…” He stopped himself, petting Chop’s head.

“I.. wanted to be happy if you was, but the thought of that at all bothered me.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you were all I had, dog. Mike n Trevor, they have their own lives, their own history n shit. I can’t always rely on them. Denise don’t give a fuck what happen to me. You my lifeline dog, I’ve known you for years. I didn’t want you to forget me over a chick or sum’. That day you acted all different n shit, it worried me.”

“Hey man, y’know I ain’t ever gon pull that shit on you. I’m with you for life.”

“Then don’t pull other kinda stupid shit on me.”

“Whatchu mean?”

“You can’t ever die on me bro. That ain’t how this shit works.”

“Ay man, I don’t plan on dying jus’ yet. Not unless yo ass by my side. Not ‘til I tell you I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Franklin got closer to his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes shone as the stars around them fell from the sky, akin to raindrops, hitting them. Everything about him was flooding Lamar’s senses, and it felt surreal, between his aroma and all the other things he loved about Franklin. Golden flecks covered them both, and the stars continued to crash down. The sky was growing darker than before.

“Just say the words Lamar. Say them and this shit’ll be over.”

“How?”

“Well first you need to wake yo ass up.”

“Huh?”

“I said wake up, fool!”

Lamar’s blissful dream had been interrupted by an unknown figure shaking him, literal raindrops hitting his face. He was still bleary eyed, only seeing a vague silhouette in front of him. A wet slap to the face rattled his brain around, the hangover settling in. Shit, was he still drunk? What time was it?

“Lamar! Get up!”

“Oh.. Th’fuck? Who- who that is?” He grunted out.

“It’s me you fuckin’ clown!”

“Frank?”

“Who the fuck else?”

“Why are you-”

He was abruptly yanked out of bed, thudding to the floor with a small “oof”.

“Get up you punk bitch!”

“Franklin what the fuck-”

He was grabbed again, tossed back onto his bed. Franklin straddled him, shaking Lamar by the collar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He said, Lamar getting another slap to the face.

“What in the fresh fuck is you talkin’-” Another slap.

“15 fuckin’ missed phone calls! 15! Are you fuckin’ nuts?!”

Lamar’s eyes practically popped out of his head. 15? What the fuck did he say to him?

“I did what-”

Franklin shook him even harder by his shirt, stretching the material out. He was straining his voice now.

“You had me worried like fuckin’ crazy! I thought you was in some sorta fuckin’ trouble again! You blew my phone up when I told yo ass not to, and then didn’t fuckin’ pick up after I heard the first couple special messages you left me!”

Oh God. This was it. He told Franklin everything, didn’t he? The color drained from his face.

“Oh fuck me..” He mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes.

“What?!” Franklin yelled, shaking him again. Lamar’s head was pounding.

“Franklin.. what.. what I say on there? I barely remember a thing, let alone callin’ yo ass.”

“You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember?!”

“Yeah. Seriously, man.”

Franklin slid off of him, putting a palm to his face. He breathed through his nose hard, trying to calm down. Lamar realized he was drenched from the small downpour outside. Pellets of rain thumped against the window as a reminder that the storm never went away.

“You.. fuck, man. You started sayin’ all this shit about how bad a fuckin’ friend you was. That you, you was hidin’ all this shit and couldn’t live another day without tellin’ me.”

Okay. Good. He didn’t tell him the truth.

“You told me you wanted to die dog. Didn’t realize yo dumbass was safe n sound asleep in yo fuckin’ bed.”

“Oh.”

“…’Oh’? Is that really all you have to say?!”

“F, I was jus’ drunk. It was dumb of me, I know, but I.. It’s nothing, okay?”

“Don’t do this shit to me man! I’ve already dealt with enough of yo fuckin’ schemes n shit-”

“Frank.”

“It’s 3 am! You had Chop barkin’ his Goddamn head off the whole night!”

“Franklin.”

“Then I race my ass over here to find yo drunkass self passed out in bed-”

“Franklin.”

“What! What?! You finally gonna put yo two cents in for once?”

“Stop yelling. My head hurts like a bitch right now.”

“Good! I’m fuckin’ glad because I know mine does as well you fuckin’ asshole!”

Lamar looked pathetically up at him. This was getting out of hand. He let it go on for too long.

“Why did you come here then?” He croaked.

“Because you were fuckin’ sobbin’ into the phone! All I heard was you cryin’ like mad fuckin’ crazy and it scared me. You don’t ever do that shit, not even when you fucked up.”

“How much I say?”

“I got the first message pretty fuckin’ clear, the rest was jus’ incoherent bullshit. I barely got through the second one before speedin’ on over. You sounded hurt n shit, I thought something happened. I thought you was a goner.”

“No weird shit though right? I ain’t say nothin’ bad?”

“What? Lamar, what the fuck are you on about? I just told you what yo ass cried out to me! I couldn’t even understand any of the other messages!”

“Okay, okay. That’s.. good I guess.”

“That’s good? Fuckin’ hell, why did I come here? You- ugh!”

“Franklin. Can you jus’ sit down before you pop a fuckin’ blood vessel? You stressin’ for nothin’.”

If anything, Lamar should be the one stressing right now. He had been so close to confessing without knowing. Franklin sat next to him, arms crossed.

“Franklin.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry that I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Well good fuckin’ job, you accomplished that real well didn’t you.” He said, sarcastically applauding him.

“I thought you were cutting me off for good homie. You think I was gon’ let that happen?”

“Lamar, that still ain’t a good reason to freak me out like that in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only cuz you hadn’t been listenin’ to me bro. I’ve been wanting to tell you somethin’ so badly lately and I never.. got the chance.”

“Then do pray fuckin’ tell LD, what the fuck is so important that you had to do this shit to me at 3 AM!”

“Franklin man, c’mon-”

“No! Don’t start!”

Franklin stood, heading for the door as he spoke. He stopped in the threshold.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on with you, or I’m leavin’ yo sad ass here to wallow. I mean it L.”

“Don’t be like that. Please man. I want to, but I-”

“Jus’ fuckin’ tell me! Why won’t you tell me?!”

“Frank-”

“I dragged my ass all the way over here for nothin’ didn’t I? You ain’t dead, you ain’t sayin’ shit, you jus’ bein’ so- ugh! Fuck!” He threw his hands up, exiting Lamar’s bedroom.

“I’m done man, fuck this.”

“Franklin wait- don’t go-” He pleaded.

Franklin did nothing but leave him stranded again, thunder rolling far in the distance. Lamar ran after him as he walked out the door, hearing the rain heavily hit the pavement. His mind was racing far ahead of him. Franklin was leaving, he was leaving for good, and he couldn’t. He can’t. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Franklin can’t do that, he can’t-

His mind had gone so far away, that he didn’t even realize that he had tackled Franklin to the ground. The two of them fell to the ground with a loud splat, followed by sounds of pain.

“Lamar what the fuck?!”

“Don’t go! Fuckin’ hell, I gotta chase yo ass and for what?!”

“Get off me dog!”

“No!” Franklin was pinned beneath him. The raindrops that rolled off of Lamar hit him in the face.

It reminded Lamar of when they were younger, playing football or whatever sport they could outside even as the deluge soaked them both to the bone. The roles had been reversed, with Franklin constantly knocking him down onto the grassy sludge. They got quite an earful from Lamar’s mom as they tracked mud in the house upon returning. It was a memory amongst many that stuck with him like glue. Those memories couldn’t go away. Franklin couldn’t go away.

Tears mixed in with the rain as he yelled out to him.

“You fuckin’ idiot! Why you makin’ this shit so hard for me?! You keep leavin’ before I can even finish!”

Franklin struggled to break free from Lamar’s grip on his wrists, huffing as he looked away.

“Look at me!” Lamar shouted, grabbing his face with a free hand.

“I didn’t wanna fuckin’ tell you like this, but Jesus Christ! For fucks sake you stubborn asshole-”

He was doing it. He bit the fucking bullet.

“You know how we got into that fuckin’ argument last week? When I told you that I was dealin’ with that whole love thing, I wasn’t talkin’ about yo Aunt, a hoe, nobody else! I was talkin’ about you!”

Lamar threw himself off of him, stumbling backwards. Franklin propped himself onto his elbows. He finally said it. He said it, and he was far from finished.

“But you didn’t wanna fuckin’ listen! And now I’ve fucked our friendship over for a second time! All because of you! This whole thing has been drivin’ me fuckin’ insane lately, and I couldn’t do shit about it! I tried so, so hard to avoid this, but nothin’ ever goes my way, huh?! Every time I think a plan of mine’ll work, it doesn’t! You know why?!”

Opening his arms wide, he spoke loud and clear, finishing his rant.

“Lemme remind you: I’m Lamar fuckin’ Davis! The biggest fuckin’ fool, fuckin’ clown, fuckin’ whatever you wanna call me! Lamar Davis, the most naïve bitch on the planet! Fuck me for thinking that this would ever go well!”

Now it was his turn to leave. But he didn’t go back into his house. His legs moved for him, walking in no particular direction. He just needed to get away from Franklin, not caring about how damp his clothes were now. He was shaking, and he didn’t know if it was from the rain or the range of emotions he was flying through.

He could hear a pair of sneakers squishing behind him. Franklin was running, and he was catching up fast.

“Ay Lamar! Get back here!”

Oh fuck. He was chasing after him now. That’s not good. Lamar started running himself, not caring about possibly slipping and falling on his ass. Only a few hours ago, he had told himself he couldn’t be without Franklin. Now all he wanted to do was run away.

“Lamar!”

Fuck fuck fuck.

He wasn’t fast enough. The second time they hit the ground, Lamar had the wind knocked right out of him, the duo splashing right into a puddle. Hands gripped his shoulders, flipping him around.

“Lamar!”

There were only a few instances in his life where Lamar felt small. He’d always been big in character, big in height, and according to him, big in other ways. But this was one of those moments where he couldn’t help but flinch, wanting to collapse in on himself. He was so tired.

“If you gon’ beat my ass or somethin’ jus’ get it over with.” He sighed, shutting his eyes tight.

When he felt nothing but raindrops touch his face, he opened his eyes slowly. His heart sank when he did. Franklin was visibly upset, guilt in his eyes.

“Lamar. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

A wave of déjà vu washed over him. Oh. So that’s what precognition meant. Motherfucking psychic lady.

“You should’ve jus’ told me man.”

“I tried dog. You wouldn’t hear me out.”

“Cuz I.. I thought you got with someone. I didn’t wanna hear it straight from yo mouth if you was.”

He shifted up, Frank sitting in his lap.

“Y’know I always thought that.. Part of me jus’ kinda thought that it’d always be the two of us. I’m never gonna get Tanisha back.. but you..”

Franklin looked away.

“You a crazy ass loyal motherfucker man. You stuck by my side no matter what, and some dumbass part of me was convinced that you… I mean fuck, so many times I thought you would jus’ flat out say something. Somethin’ so I could stop waiting for the one other person I had known forever to just say that they fuckin’ loved me like that.”

Lamar blinked, rainwater getting into his eyes. It wasn’t quite as serene as his dream had been, nor was it verbatim, but Lamar didn’t care. There was something about the way the water droplets sat along Franklin’s face, highlighted by a streetlight behind him that made him look angelic.

“When you started actin’ all weird it jus’.. made me so fuckin’ mad man. I thought you was gon’ pick someone else over me. Jus’ like Tanisha did.”

“Franklin..”

“So why didn’t you jus’ say somethin’ sooner? I waited. Hell, I don’t even know why I did at first.”

“Franklin.”

“But now I’m realizin’ you must not have even noticed yoself what you was feelin’, when I fuckin’ did. I noticed and you didn’t and-”

Lamar grabbed him by the face, grip surprisingly strong after being in the rain.

“How many times do I gotta say yo name for you to hear me?”

The rain kept falling, never slowing for either one of them. Yet, it felt like time stopped. Lamar chuckled lightly.

“Franklin Clinton and Lamar Davis. Two of the dumbest motherfuckers in LS. Homies for life.”

“Yeah. Homies for life.”

His hands never left Franklin’s face. He pressed their foreheads together, lowering his voice.

“I love you, bum ass bitch.”

“Yeah yeah. I love you too.”

He kissed the top of his head, moving his hands down to embrace him in a tight hug. When was the last time they did this? As he thought it over, he could hear Franklin’s voice muffled against his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again. Next time save us both the trouble n jus’ spill yo heart out. Dramatic motherfucker.”

The words had no malice in them, Lamar feeling him smile as he said it. He kissed him once more, and they just sat in the rain, feeling it bathe them in fond memories.

//plz listen to remember the rain by 21st century it’s so good 💔😭 anyway ya i decided to end it on a sorta happy note !!!!! franklin is a stubborn guy smh,, sorry for any typos lol also i rlly had no idea where i wanted to go with this so sorry if it’s weird or whatever

[moonlightflower21]

To get your mind off this stuff, how about Raph and his little boy (bc I rarely see him having a boy :( ) and his boy just inhutes himself but bc he's a mini Raphael he plays it off as nothing and then Raph finds out?

i'm assuming you mean raph's boy hurt himself because that's what's i'm going to do XD also, i had to name the children so it wouldn't be confusing to read. but you can pick and choose the names as you wish :)

"What's goin' on wit' ya?" Raph smirked at his son who softly groaned as he shifted himself on the couch. "Nothin pops, just tired" Zane rubbed his eyes, shifting the blanket further up his body. But it wasn't believable for Raph, after that training session with his cousin Zane seemed to be stuck on the couch immovable. Which was a weird thing, considering he had the energy of his uncle Mikey times 100.

"You okay, lil dude?" Mikey raised his eye ridges at the small boy who seemed to be in pain before looking at his brother. "Yeah, yeah. Fine" but he just brushed him off easily, trying to act unbothered but something was up with him. Raph knew when something was wrong and as if reading his thoughts, his older brother came into the living room with his twins and an angry/disappointed expression on his face.

"What's goin' on?" Raph raised an eyebrow at his nephew and niece who stared at the floor with guilt pratically radiating off of them. "Well Hana, Kameko, tell Raph what you told me" Leo sternly asked his twins who bit their lips nervously as they fidgeted. Zane glared at his cousins, feverishly shaking his head no rapidly behind his father's back. But there was no escaping the truth with the turtle brothers.

"Um...we-we told dad that... what would he do if someone cut themselves on a knife b-badly..." Hana spoke meekly, her back pressed against her father's legs in shame and nervousness. And the smirk Raphael held dropped in an instant, his amber eyes laying on his son once more.

"Guys! Why'd you do that?" Zane complained angrily, glaring at the two twins who couldn't meet his eyes. "Dad, I'm fine it's nothing" Zane tried to chuckle, but let out a series of coughs when he squeezed his stomach too hard.

"Pull your top up" Raph spoke quietly but firmly, crossing his wonderfully built arms over his chest. "B-but-" "Zane..." "But Hana is here!" "Now" Raphael ordered sharply, in a clear tone that he wasn't to be messed with in this moment. With a heavy sigh, he lifted the top over his body and Raphael refrained from saying anything when he saw the large cut on his son's body running from his chest to the lower belly. Leo could barely speak, his eyes narrowed in the cut his nephew had. Mikey let out a soft gasp at the blood and how angry the wound looked against his skin.

"S'nothing, dad. M'fine" Zane tried to chuckle making it lighter, yet the situation was anything but humorous. "How did you guys fix this?" Leo glanced down at his kids who toyed with their shirts. "We-we just kinda... stuck a bandage on it. I helped wrap it" Kameko spoke timidly, never seeing both his father and uncle so silent and angry.

"Donnie!" Raph yelled, seemingly breaking out of his momentarily trance and walking towards his kid. "Yo dad-" "Ya stay silent, Zane. Enough" Raph hissed, making his son sit gently on the sofa. He hushed, knowing full well how angry his own father was.

"What's wrong?" Donnie entered the living room, surprised to see his brothers staring at something with shock and anger. His own eyes widened when he caught sight of his nephew with a nasty wound on his stomach. "What happened??" Donnie exclaimed, peeling back the bandages as carefully as he could.

"Long story, can ya stitch him up?" Donnie looked at his his brothers eyes, knowing how nervous he was but played it off casually. He nodded, straightening his frame reaching his normal height.

"How-" strong arms held Zane's waist securely but gently in order to not touch the wound. "Dad! I can walk!" His cheeks went bright red, embarassed to be picked up by his father in front of his cousins but Raphael ignored it.

"Maybe if ya had listened to what I said, ya wouldn't be in this position" he spoke lowly, placing him down on the cot in Donnie's lab. His heart clenched when he saw his facial expression switch to pain as he shifted.

"Hold tight Z, I'm going to numb you" Donnie answered, cleaning around the cut. Raph sat down in the chair, on the other side. Zane's attitude and personality reminded him very much so of himself. Even if he was in staggering pain, he wouldn't show a sign of weakness to anyone. Because weakness meant failure. But that was in the past, before he met you and had his son. He vowed to protect you and his child with his life. But it was hard, considering his son would pull stunts like this and deem it acceptable to not tell anyone and allow the problem to disappear on its own. Was this how Leo felt?

"Okay, it's finished. Be sure to not apply any pressure or the stitches could very well come undone. You're going to be in pain, judging by the severity of the wound and the location of it" Donnie continued but Raph zoned out, waiting to talk to his son in private. "Hold on, I got to check something" and just like that, Donnie disappeared leaving Raph alone with his child.

"I know you're mad-" "Mad?? An understatement, Zane! What were ya thinkin'? I told ya not to touch the blade and whaddya do?? Touch them!" The lecture began, Raphael stood up and paced the floor like he always did when he was anxious and frustrated. All his son could do is sit and listen.

"But I'm fine-" "Are ya? Because those stitches and the bruisin' tell me otherwise! I know exactly how that must feel because I did the same thing when I was a kid, Zane. Don't try to kid me" he continued with his small rant, so scared over how he could have lost his child.

"And then ya go 'head and wrap this up like it couldn't have gotten infected and it couldn't have gotten much much worse-" "But it wasn't bad!-" "That's not the point! Not only have you disobeyed what I told us, but you hurt yourself and this isn't a minor injury either!" The tone of his increased and his glare only softened when he saw how small his son looked on that bed.

"Shit... what am I gonna tell your momma? She's already mad at me for even buying ya that thing. And now...." Raph sighed, pressing a hand to his temple already feeling a mild thumping there. He recalled how you didn't want any knives around the kids because they were reckless but Raph knew how it felt like to have so many restrictions and treated as though you were a baby. So the blade was in the room, but forbidden to be touched without any proper training. Zane looked to his lap, feeling so heavy with all the emotions. Trying to act all cool and badass wasn't worth the stress it came with. If he had listened to his father he wouldn't be sitting here with his stomach simultaneously on fire and in excruciating pain.

"But... you're okay. That's all that matters" Raph patted his son's shoulder comfortingly, running a hand through his locks. "M'sorry dad..." Zane whispered, feeling so defeated and Raph nodded, gently nudging his shoulder.

"S'fine, what's done is done. All that matters is ya, okay? If ya want ta hold the blades, ya need training. I'll train ya" Raphael kneeled to the ground, looking into his son's eyes with a half smile. "Really?" Raph let out a small chuckle when he saw the glimmer in his son's eyes.

"Really, really" he pecked his forehead, giving him a smile of his own. "But you're still grounded. And you have the honours of tellin' ya mom"

[womanfromblackwater]

Birthday Fic

Little birthday-themed fic focusing on Arthur and John’s brotherly bond. Of course, it’s all John’s birthday bc I found out way too late that yesterday was Roger’s, but enjoy!

Thirteen

From the moment he saw the small figure hunched at the side of the camp, Arthur knew something was wrong. The little urchin Dutch and Hosea had brought back a few months past usually spent his time getting into everything around the camp, seeing how much he could squirrel away in his tent before anyone noticed. If not that he was pestering Arthur. The kid wanted to copy everything he did and had no respect for Arthur’s time or personal space. Sitting on a rock staring off across the prairie was definitely not one of his usual activities. Silently hoping that the kid wasn’t getting sick, Arthur had gone about his day, until he noticed that by mid afternoon John still hadn’t moved. A part of him- most of him if he was being honest- was tempted to leave him there, let him sort out his own problems. But the small part that made him ________ took over, and he found himself walking over to the kid against his better judgement. 

“You okay, boy?”

Startled, John visibly flinched at his voice, before quickly squaring his shoulders and putting on what Arthur thought of as his “tough guy scowl.” It was not especially intimidating coming from the skinny kid. 

“I’m fine.”

“You ain’t. If you was fine you wouldn’t be over here. So, I’m gonna sit right here until you tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

He plopped himself down on the grass, wondering why he was doing this but unable to make himself get up and walk away. John crossed his arms across his chest and turned his head away, but didn’t get up. Arthur guessed five minutes before the kid spilled his guts. John held out for ten before the tears he had been fighting started to run down his cheeks. 

“I’m thirteen today.”

“Well, happy birthday, kid. That ain’t nothing to cry about.”

“That’s thirteen years my ma ain’t here. Pa always said I killed her. She made good money, too. It was my fault Pa lost his best girl. He coulda been rich.”

Arthur took a deep breath, not sure what to say. John never talked about his life before the gang, only said he was on his own since he was eight. Now he guessed he knew why.

“Hey, that ain’t… that ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothing. It happens, boy. Ain’t nice, but it happens.”

He wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulders, surprised when John didn’t fight him and just leaned into his side. 

“You got a family now. Ain’t much of one, but we’re here.”

“I guess.” 

The tears had stopped, and Arthur gave the boy’s shoulders a squeeze before getting up, brushing dirt off his jeans.

“Make sure you’re back for dinner. Hosea’ll worry if he knows you were out here all day.”

Having gotten a small nod, Arthur strode back to the main camp and saddled his horse. John could be whiny and aggressive and annoying, but he felt bad for the kid. Least he could do was get him a present. Probably the first one of his life. 

Later that night, Arthur knew he’d done the right thing. It was way too big on John, but something had told him that the boy was meant to have it. His eyes were barely visible under the brim of the white gambler hat, but he had refused to take it off since he had opened the sloppily wrapped package. Arthur smiled to himself. He’d grow into it. 

Twenty-Two

Giving a last wave to the trapper, Arthur rode off with the package secured behind him. He’d watched John shiver through the winter, too stubborn to ask for a heavier jacket and spending all his own money on presents for the girl Uncle had brought into camp. John had proudly declared that she didn’t charge him anymore, that soon enough she’d be only his, but Arthur figured that didn’t mean much when his lips were tinged with blue and he was practically sitting in the campfire to keep warm in a blizzard. The idea of the man he’d come to think of as a brother going through another cold snap like that had given Arthur the idea for his birthday gift. The ox leather had been easy to come by, the coyote had taken several nights of hunting, but it was worth it to see the result. 

He arrived at camp to find the celebration already in full swing, despite it only being mid-afternoon. Arthur had always gotten a special meal and presents, but Dutch doted on John, and his birthday was second only to Christmas as the gang’s biggest party of the year. Hating that much attention himself, Arthur didn’t mind the arrangement. 

John was sitting on the edge of a wagon, laughing with Bill and Uncle and already deep into his fourth drink. Arthur had been right, he had grown into the hat, although the white had become a deep tan after nearly a decade of use. Figuring he may as well give him his present while he was sober enough to appreciate it, he pulled the package off of Boadicea and headed over. 

“Hey, kid, havin’ a good day?” He slung an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, the closest to a hug John would allow. 

“Sure. Hosea let me sleep till noon, so I’d say it’s a good one. They won’t let me near the chuckwagon, so I guess Pearson got something good, too. How you been?”

“Fine, fine. Got this for ya.” He handed over the neatly folded brown paper. 

“Shit, Arthur, you didn’t need to go this big. Uncle here got me a half-full box of bullets. Pretty sure he pulled it off your wagon.”

Uncle stood up taller.

“Hey, those is gonna save your life one day, boy. You’ll be thankin’ ol’ Uncle then!”

They all laughed as John tore back the paper on Arthur’s gift. His genuine smile warmed Arthur’s heart. John was usually either dead serious or drunkenly cackling. Honest happiness from him was rare. He ran his fingers through the soft fur of the jacket’s lining, admiring for a moment before looking up to Arthur. 

“Thank you, brother. For real, thank you.”

“Aw, was nothin’. Now we don’t all have to listen to you and your chatterin’ teeth next time we head north.” He gave John a playful shove and steered him towards the campfire, where the rest of the gang was staring to gather for a rare night of relaxation. 

Twenty-Six

“Hey, you up yet?”

Arthur could see through the gaping hole in the wall that he was, but figured John would appreciate the knock more than just barging in. 

“Yep. You can come in.”

John was slumped in a chair, half-finished coffee in his hands. Dark circles under his eyes showed the toll the past few weeks had taken. Losing Sean, losing Jack and the fight to get him back, settling in at a new camp- they were all stressed and exhausted. Only Jack, looking up to wave at Arthur from his spot on the floor, happily playing with his toy horse, seemed to be truly okay. 

“Just wanted to wish you many happy returns of the day.”

“What?”

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, John stared at Arthur, who remained silent until John’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Jesus, I hadn’t even been keeping track. Already?”

“What is it, Pa?” Jack asked, climbing up into John’s lap. Arthur answered for him.

“It’s your pa’s birthday. Gettin’ old, he is.”

“Really? Is there gonna be a cake?” Jack’s eyes lit up. He still wasn’t exactly sure what a birthday was, but he knew that whenever somebody had one there were treats, and for his there had been presents. 

“I don’t think so, Jack. We all got a lot going on right now, we’re not gonna have a party right in the middle of it.”

He was right, Arthur knew that, but a part of him remembered how hard it had been to get John to acknowledge his birthday in the first place, and he didn’t want to let that go. An idea forming, he held out his arms to Jack. 

“Come on, Jack. Let’s give your pa some space. John, I’m borrowin’ your kid.” 

John nodded, smiling at the giggle that Jack gave as Arthur picked him up and spun him around. Even though they’d all had hard times lately, Arthur seemed to be handling it better than he was. Jack deserved that, not sitting around in a rotting house watching his father brood all day. 

Arthur had planned carefully, so by the time John returned from his chores around camp everything was done. They had spread a blanket across the floor for a picnic, and he, Jack, and Abigail sat around it, a small cake from a bakery in Saint Denis in the center.  John was shocked. 

“Didn’t think we were gonna just let the day go by, did ya? Come sit down.” Arthur cut cake for all of them, pointedly ignoring the shine of tears in John’s eyes. A kiss from Abigail and a bear hug from Jack had him relaxed enough to enjoy their small party. When Arthur rose to go, he handed John a folded piece of paper. 

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Arthur didn’t know it, but John kept the drawing of himself, Abigail, and Jack tucked in his satchel whenever he had to be away from camp, admiring how Arthur had captured Jack’s smirk, the light in Abigail’s eyes, and how he’d made them look like a real family.

Thirty-Four

John’s first birthday in his new home had been a success, if he did say so himself. Abigail had insisted on Uncle and Jack taking over his chores, while the two of them had hidden the flour to prevent her from even attempting to bake. It had been a peaceful day spent lounging on his own porch, looking out over the sunlight on his own land. It was only when dinner was finished and Uncle and Jack had gone to bed that he felt a twinge of sadness. It came every year, the reminder that Arthur hadn’t been here to share the day with him. The hat from his first year with the gang had been lost in the flight from Beaver Hollow, replaced with Arthur’s own, which was tucked in a drawer in the wardrobe, the family portrait Arthur had drawn inside of it. He still wore the jacket, even though there were few truly cold days in New Austin, even in the winter. He supposed his new life had been Arthur’s last gift, and he hoped he would be proud of what John was doing with it. As he watched a blue jay hop across the railing, closer to his hand than most animals would dare to go, John figured he was.