#this book got me fuckin cryin my ass off

[booksanstime]

Bigolas Dickolas and the Time War

The other day I was feeling rather out of it, so I decided to pick some media to immerse myself in. Some media to make me feel something sharp and intense, to get catharsis. I landed around reading a few books, all I will get to talking about in due time, but I surprisingly started with the book I didn’t initially plan on reading. This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I will start with giving a short review on the book that is spoiler free and then go more into detail on my actual feelings. Spoiler Free Review- Nothing. I really can’t say much. It made me cry, it made me look up quite a few things, and after I was done reading it I was blown away, but I truly feel no information is the best way to go in. For those who want some idea of what you’re getting yourself into, I will say to just read the synopsis on the back of the book, but not the reviews, and be prepared for a possibly challenging read(it can be verbose). The back of the book reads: “In the ashes of a dying world, Red finds a letter marked “Burn before reading”       So begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents in a war that stretched through the vast reaches of time and space.       Red belongs to the Agency, a post-singularity technotopia. Blue belongs to Garden, a single vast consciousness embedded in all organic matter. Their pasts are bloody and their futures mutually exclusive. They have nothing in common--save that they’re the best, and they’re alone.       Now what began as a battlefield boast grows into a dangerous game, one both Red and Blue are determined to win. Because winning’s what you do in war. Isn’t it?       A tour de force collaboration from two powerhouse writers that spans the whole time and space.” One other thing. I don’t want to say too much, but it is also a good read if ya want something remotely queer for pride month, and it’s only 198 pages long. Now, onto not caring about spoilers, ---warning!! spoilers ahead and some unfiltered thoughts--- This book fucking took me by the throat and made me look directly into it’s eyes on every fucking page. I swear, the moment I started reading I did not stop once until I had read it all. I had to take a moment to sip some water, perform some standard body maintenance, but outside of that, I didn’t put the book down until I was done. And then when I was done, I laid down for a moment, and then reread certain lines and paragraphs and phrases again. The next day I was still going back to it, so much so I decided to reread the first bit (while not emotionally prepared to reread the whole book yet) and it had me losing my mind and recommending it to everybody I know. This Is How You Lose the Time War fucking hit like a school bus on a college campus. It’s everything my friends and I joke that we need, would be a pain to actually live through, but I’m sure half of us would not complain to have. Reading this book was, in a way, exhausting. The journey the authors took us through, the tragedy, the love, the longing, it wore on me. It was incredibly engaging and profound, yes.. but it still was a trip, a roller-coaster of emotions, and I don’t do well with heights. It may take me many more days before I feel like I can read it again, but rest assured I will, because I am absolutely certain it is worth at least another read. Like a video game where each play around you unlock new things, new aspects of the story that can lead you to the true end you couldn’t get the first go around. But I guess it’s slightly different than that. This book is more so a Möbius strip, as the last letter from Blue reads. This book is about a war and a love that, “stretches through the vast reaches of time and space.” Everything happening from the beginning of the book is happening later in the book as well, but I digress, I should go into more specifics. This books is about two people on opposing sides of a war. Red and Blue, code-names (though we don’t learn their actual names). They have a fierce and intense rivalry, while having respect for one another at the same time. They both weave and manipulate the past to try to make their respective futures possible, to make their very existences possible. They may just be the grunts for their respective futuristic matriarchs, but they are the best in their field and constantly at each others throats, while never outright sabotaging one another. And while constantly communicating through an effort akin to growing strawberries for a loved one (a painstaking thing to grow), the two rivals painstakingly weave time to leave messages for one another. Taunting each other. Blue saying they’ll turn Red to their side, to Garden. Both enjoying the company at some point of simply each other’s messages in their memories, as both Garden and the Agency keep close tabs on them and they could not simply keep a message, a letter, around. And at some point, from the intellectual back and forth from two people on opposite sides of a war, they fall in love. Blue takes a heavy wound when Garden sends her to kill a younger version of Red, a wound she will carry in every form she takes. Red is taken aback and professes she no longer sees Blue as the enemy, that she wishes to talk to her more. Blue and Red weave messages through time, in bee stings and dragonflies. In seeds and teas and then.. Red confesses her love. Blue dies at the hands of Red and the Agency, and then Red tears through time and space to bring her back. To Be Continued... >>

[of-many-fandomss]

Ooo can I please request a Tangerine x fem!reader Valentine’s request? Where she is Tan’s gf and Tan and Lem’s partner, and all three are really close. Y/n saves him from dying on the Bullet Train, and he proposes to her while still on the train, Y/n of course saying yes, but also being like, “You chose to ask me this NOW?? You almost died??”🥺🥺🧡🧡

This is so adorable

—————

The man was pointing a gun at your boyfriend, and you saw red.

Nothing else in the world mattered as you charged towards him at full speed. The only thought on your mind was that you had to save Tangerine. No matter what.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, you tackled him sideways, making him lose his balance and fire the gun, but it missed its original intended target of your boyfriends head.

Still, it grazed him in the side, but he would be fine. You both knew he had lived through much worse and this was merely a scratch compared to all those things.

Quickly, you delivered one swift kick to the man’s head, effectively knocking him out, and you barely even registered a young girl you didn’t know take off down and out of the cart.

Immediately, you dropped down to your boyfriends side, ignoring his spewing of curses, and began to examine his wound.

Sighing softly in relief, you ripped off part of your lower pants and used it to apply pressure to the graze, “You’ll be fine,” You reassured him, “We’ll just get it bandaged after we get off of this goddamned train.”

He groaned, shifting his body so that he was leaning upright against the wall and he slowly opened his eyes to look up at you.

“Hey there, love,” He greeted casually, “How’s it going?”

You rolled your eyes, “You need to stop making light of these kinds of situations.” You scolded.

“What kinds of situations?” He leaned his head teasingly to the side.

“The ones where you almost died.” You hummed.

“Oh, I see. I’ll just sit here cryin’ about how I almost got my fuckin’ brains blown out. Is that what you want, eh?” There was a playfulness in his tone that you had the privilege of knowing that he only used with you.

You hummed mockingly, “Yeah, that’s it.”

The two of you fell silent, you tending to his wound and him studying your every move with a look of adoration that could easily make your heart melt into a puddle of goo.

“Hey, love?”

“Yeah?” You were looking at what you were doing, not up at him.

“Look up at me for a second?” He requested politely.

You did just that, eyes widening and heart stopping at what you saw.

It was a ring. He was holding a ring.

“I love ya so goddamn much, ya know that?” He began to ramble, “And I wanted to wait till after this mission at some fancy ass restaurant that I would’ve booked for us since it’s Valentine’s Day, but I just can’t wait any longer. I’ve been carryin’ around this fuckin’ thing for months, waitin’ for the right time, but I don’t want to wait anymore because I want to have-“ He cut himself off and took a deep breath, “Love, will you marry me?”

Of course you would marry him. Of course you would.

“Is this really the best time to ask this?” Perhaps the state of shock that you were in was what compelled you not to be able to say anything else.

He flashed that devastatingly handsome grin of his in your direction, “What better time?” He asked uncharacteristically softly.

“Yes,” Tears of joy had begun to fill your eyes and leak down your face, “Yes, yes, yes. God, yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Tangerine grinned wider than you had ever seen him and he barely had time to slip the ring on your finger before you had thrown yourself at him, kissing him hard and throwing your arms around his neck. Yet, still careful of his injury.

“Good,” He grinned when you pulled away slightly, “Had me worried there for a second.”

[breziarchive]

beach majimako plz ty ilu!!!!

just for you, after i said “catch me never writing this”. superficial typos remain because i didn’t have time to edit asdflj

toying around with extending requests since I couldn’t work on them for almost a full day due to being sick, so stay tuned!

valentine’s day boogaloo - guidelines - ko-fi - majimako zine

~~

“Stopfidgeting,” Makoto implored with a smile as she brushed a straystreak of sunscreen on Majima’s cheek, “No one can see anything,”

“Sure,” Majima grumbled, clearly upset, “But, what if—,”

“It’ll be fine. Just enjoy the summer day,”

Majimahuffed, glancing around the array of colorful towels, umbrellas, andswimsuits as families relaxed, played, and wandered about the beach.The sun was warm but not oppressive, the breeze brisk and refreshing,and the water clear and calm. Makotowas wearing the swimsuit they had bought together, simple and paleblue. He wore trunks and a white button down shirt, all long enoughto cover the tattoos that would ban him from so friendly a beach.Frowning at her from behind sunglasses that barely concealed hisruined eye, he sighed and flopped back on the towel.

“Fine. Ya win this round.”

“Do I?” Makoto asked, amused as she rummaged in their bag, “Tothink, Majima Goro admitting defeat so easily!”

“Oi,watch it,” Majima grunted, “Or I’m gonna start keepin’ scoreand then you’ll be in trouble!”

“WillI be, I wonder,” Makoto mused under her breath as she finally foundthe book she had brought to read. Majima made a noise that suggestedhe had heard her but ultimately the conversation ended in favor ofthe playful sounds of kids running about the beach with the undertoneof the rhythmic waves. Majimadozed. Makoto read.

Thespray of kicked sand jolted Majima awake.

Rowdy, drunk youths cackled as they passed by, carelessly kickingmore sand onto him as they went. Makoto yelped, first in shock thenin worry as Majima started coughing and heaving, curling in panic.

“Goro? Goro!” she brushed sand off his shoulders as he tore hissunglasses off and pawed at his eyes. Taking one of his wrists as herother hand dove into the bag, she started to coo as he cussed andhissed.

“Don’t scratch! Don’t scratch at it, just blink!”

“Blink,”Majima rasped, angry but not at her, “Itfuckin’ burns!!”

“Iknow,” she pulled a water bottle out and frantically twisted thecap off, “I know, I know, here—,”

Takinghis cheek to turn him to her, she frowned, watching him blinking inpanic and pain as tears rolled down his face. Pouring the water overhis eyes and trying to avoid his shirt as much as possible, Makotocontinued to coo and help him rid the sand from his face. She brushedher thumbs as gently as possible along his eyelids, taking care tonote his ruined side once he regained his sight. As she coaxed grainsof sand out of the scar tissue, he scowled.

“Fuckin’shitbags,”Majima spat to the side, “See them get away with that on a tatbeach, I fuckin’ bet they’ll be cryin’ between their ass cheeksin two seconds flat! Whereare they?!”

“No, don’t,” Makoto said quietly, “Let them be, they’ll gettheir own soon enough,”

Grumblingand cussing, Majima still scanned the beach for them, locating themnot too far away causing havoc in their own little circle.Disgruntled, he slouched asMakoto started petting sand off of other areas.

“GuessI wasn’t so different, back then,” he muttered. Makoto chuckled.

“I bet you were a terror,”

“Were?”he pinched her cheek and she playfully swatted him away.

Hehelped Makoto brush the rest of the sand off, slowly building hismood back as they idly chatted about the more innocent parts of theirpast that weren’t too dark for whatever ears could be listening.All the while, though,Majima kept his one eye constantly glancing back to the rowdy youth.Makoto noticed, but didn’tsay anything until she tapped his arm.

“Goro,that family—,”

“Yeah,”he confirmed, low. The youths had started picking at a grandmotherand her two young grandchildren, harassing and kicking apart whatevercastles the youngest was trying to build. Anyprotest was met with the reasoning that they were simply playingGojira despiteabsolutely no invitation. Majimasnarled, snatched hissunglasses back up, and gotto his feet, “Fuck that! If nobody’s gonna give ‘em their ownthen I will!”

Makotodidn’t stop him.

“Oi!One bad turn deservesanother, you punks want sand kicked in yer face?!” Majima toweredover them but they were too drunk on their own might to care.

“Huh? You got a problem, old man?” one challenged, swinging astill-full bottle of booze. The others all turned towards him, whichwas good, since it gave the grandmother a chance to pull her kidsaway from the tension.

Majima grit his teeth, wanting so very badly to escalate farther—hecould pull all the real insults from every orifice and make them crybefore he beat their faces to the dunes. But the round and scaredfaces of the grandkids behind the punks forced him to reel it in andhe swallowed. Summoning a state of mind he hadn’t had to use in avery long time, he adopted the patience of a cabaret manager.

“Listen,guys, if yer gonna cause trouble, do it somewhere else, yer ruinin’some kids’ day fer nothin’, a’ight?”

“What’samatter, can’t take a little excitement in your life?” one of theskinnier ones prodded.

Thecomment roused a chorus of nasty chuckles with compliments to thechef of such a lame insult. Majima narrowed his eye, thinking of allthe many, many, manythings he had done inthe past several years of his life just for the fuck of it only tocome out of them (surprisingly) alive—not that Makoto had to knowhalf of them, but regardless. It popped a smirk on his face.

“What’re you laughin’ at, huh?” the booze-swinger steamed. Atfirst his friends laughed but then they shied away when he, angerclearly triggered, stormed up to Majima, “Somethin’ funny toyou?!”

“Actually, I feel like cryin’,” Majima supplied calmly, “Y’allare just so sad to look at.”

“Youtryin’ to start a fight?!”

“On this beach?” Majima feigned innocence, “I would never. So,listen to yer elder and haul ass outta here if yer feelin’ likethrowin’ down,”

“Idon’t have to listen to anyone!” the youth raged, swinging thebottle wildly.

“F-Furukawa, hey, maybe—,”

“Shutit!!” Furukawacommanded, causing the only dissenting youth to flinch. Majimasniffed.

“Yer friend’s got the right idea. Blow yer steam off somewhereelse, kid.”

“Youcan’t tell me what to do, old man!!”Furukawa roared, swinging the bottle down hard. Caught off guard byhow quickly the kid snapped, Majima grunted as the bottle shatteredover his head, scraping his brow and knocking his glasses off. Hestared at where the sunglasses landed in the sand nextto the bottle’s shards,sake dripping from his harsh features. For a moment he almost wishedit was champagne again, if only because that smelled better. Raisinga calloused thumb to wipe his upper lip, he inhaled, loosening hisshoulders on the exhale. The sake soaked into his white shirt andMajima looked up.

Theeyes of everyone in front of him, from the youths to the grandmotherbehind them, widened until the whites shone in the sun. Majimadidn’t have to look down to know that his tattoo bled through thewet fabric, having hemmed and hawed over it with Makoto some hoursprior.

“C’mon,kid,” Majima said, low and dark and edging on dangerous, “Whatare ya, 21? 20?”

Theyouths huddled together behind Furukawa who was too frozen to cower.The more his tattoo bled through the more anxious they became.

“Ain’tya a little old to be pullin’ thisshit?”

Furukawa’sjaw hung open, staggered, then shut.

“Ifya don’t want a little excitement in your life…,” Majima woundhis leg back and kicked sand at the youths, “Fuckin’beat it!”

They scrambled over each other, tripping and faltering in their hasteto leave the scrutiny of the unveiled yakuza. Majima would’vewatched them go, but the faces of the family in front of him stolehis attention. What must he have looked like? Hiding a tattoo wasterror for the grandma, but for the kids? They couldn’t stopstaring at the hole in his face. Frozen and awkward, he gulped andgave a little bow, earning a flinch from the grandmother. Shit.

“Goro!” Makoto called. Turning on his heel to see herrunning, Majima called back.

“Wait, don’t, don’t! There’s—,”

An ear-splitting shriek left Majima’s throat as he stepped on theshards of glass he was trying to warn her about. Hopping erraticallyon one foot, he attempted to go in her direction. Makoto braced hisshoulders when she reached him, guiding him back to their towel asgracefully as they could manage.

“Shit,” Majima expunged as he collapsed on the towel, “I’dalmost rather get another foot massage from ya,”

“Don’t tempt me,” Makoto said as she pulled his bleeding footonto her lap. Majima groaned, covering his face as she went to workcleaning the wound.

“Makoto?”

“Hm?”

Majima’s voice was defeated like a kid that had lost thechampionship little league game, “Where’s my eyepatch?”

In turn, her voice was gentler than normal, taking time to brush athumb along his shin, “Front pocket of the bag.

“’Kay…,” he mumbled. Keeping one hand covering his face, heblindly pawed around until he found the front pocket. Pulling thepatch out, he sullenly put it back on, wincing whenever Makoto hit aparticularly sensitive spot.

“Call me unprepared…,” She frowned, “But I didn’t bringanything to bandage you up…,”

“Naw,” he dismissed, “I can’t blame ya. This wasn’tsupposed to happen,”

A pause. Makoto rinsed her hands with the rest of the water.

“I’m sorry, Makoto,”

“Don’t be,” she assured quietly, “You did the right thing.”

Majima sighed, then started unbuttoning his shirt. Makoto eyed himwarily.

“You sure?” she asked. He sighed again.

“Cat’s already outta the bag. Plus it’s soaked with booze.Can’t hurt.”

Makoto didn’t argue and simply wrapped the shirt until his foot wasnothing but a bulk of soaked fabric. He seethed, somehow managing tokeep his ticklish foot in place for her. Makoto finally sat back,sighing with him.

“Well.”

“Well.”

She reached up and ran her hand up his arm, soothing with her firmgrip. Majima, his arm over his eye, started mouthing off a countdownas Makoto kept massaging him.

“You there! Sir!” an authoritative but painfully local voicecalled.

“Aaaand right on time,” he grumbled as the policeman jogged up.

Already intimidated by his appearance the policeman was trying coverup any stammering by standing straight. Majima only gave himattention by moving his arm so his eye could peek out.

“S-Sir, this is...This is a public beach,”

“Haw?”

“A family beach,”

“Uh-huh.”

“Tattoos aren’t allowed,”

“Ya.”

The policeman shifted, becoming as annoyed as he was nervous. Majimasqueezed whatever enjoyment he could by watching him struggle.

“Please lea—,”

“Wait, Officer,” an old and sweet voice interrupted. Majimajolted, looking up in utter bewilderment with Makoto. There stood thegrandmother, granddaughter in one hand and grandson in the other.

“Let him stay here for the day,”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the officer shook his head, “But I was toldthat this man assaulted several youths just now, I can’t allow suchbehavior here.”

The grandmother shook her head, her floppy sunhat following hermovements, “They were lying. This man took it upon himself tointervene and chase those ruffians away. They caused the violencefirst,” she gestured at his foot and brow, “Just look at whatthey did to him!”

“Self-defense?” the officer guessed. The grandmother narrowed hereyes, her voice turning into a harsh scold like he should’ve knownbetter. The officer winced, confused.

“No, those boys attacked first. I’m just thankful he washere to stop them,”

The policeman stammered, trying to bolster his defense. Rules arerules, so on and so forth. But the grandmother wouldn’t budge,resorting to shouting until the officer relented and allowed Majimaon the beach for that day only.

“Oh…,” Makoto said when the officer finally left them alone,“Thank you, really, thank you!”

“Granny,” Majima propped himself on his elbows, “Ya reallydidn’t have to, we can take a little beatin’ here and there,”

“And?” The grandmother turned her scolding to Majima in aninstant, much to Makoto’s giggling, “It’s a beautiful summerday and you deserve a good rest. Come now.”

The grandmother allowed the two of them to entertain her twingrandchildren, Makoto walking the boy into the shallows and pluckingsea shells with him while Majima (injured as he was) stayed on thebeach while the girl dug in the sand. Majima’s leering hannyaglared out at all the rest of the families, but the grandmother wasnever far away to sit and smile, diminishing the fierceness of thetattoo.

“Hohh? Whatchu got there, scamp?” he asked as the girl flinchedbut started poking curiously around a moat she had built. The girlwas much quieter than her twin brother, and simply looked at Majimabefore pointing down. He craned his neck, seeing a small crabscuttling about.

“Ohh yah, got some creatures in yer moat to guard it, huh? Nothin’to sneeze at either. Look,” he reached down and picked the tinything up, “See these claws?”

The girl nodded. Majima grinned, then stuck his finger square in thecrab’s claw to be pinched.

Gasping, the girl brought her sand-covered hands to her mouth. Majimacringed, biting his lip so as not to cuss—the little sucker pinchedfar harder than he had imagined. But still he stuck it out and kepthis wonky smile on for the girl.

“Goro!” Makoto called from the water, “What are youdoing?”

“Important stuff! You ain’t invited!”

“Would you stop hurting yourself at least?”

“Hurtin’? Ow—,” Majima flinched as the crab’s other clawfound the flesh of his palm, “This ain’t hurtin’, it’splaying, there’s a difference!”

The girl giggled. Makoto rolled her eyes so forcefully he could seeit from where he was sitting, and he started to giggle too as the sunbeat warmly on his back.

[readerwinterbarnes]

You’re More Than That - Pt. 1

Bucky, Maggie (OFC), Maggie x OMC, College!AU

Summary: Bucky drops his best friend off after a study group get together, only to hear a conversation that leaves his best friend broken.

Word Count: 1,991

Warnings: PLEASE READ WARNINGS: abusive relationship, harassment, attempted rape, eventual happy ending

A/N: For AnaGP on AO3 who wanted a protective Bucky fic. Don’t worry I’m still here! School started this week and has already been super demanding, but I’m slowly getting some other fics done for you guys!

Bucky was walking Maggie back to her apartment she shared with her boyfriend Jake. Sam, Steve, Natasha, Bucky, and Maggie had a group project they were working on in the library and were just putting the finishing touches on it for tomorrow. Nat invited them for pizza at the group’s favorite spot, but Maggie said she needed to get back to Jake. The group was never a fan of Jake. He was brash, arrogant, and didn’t treat their friend with respect. Maggie said it was fine and it was just because Jake was stressed from work. They couldn’t force her to end her relationship with Jake but were concerned for her well being.

Bucky and Maggie were heading down the hallway towards her door laughing from a prank Nat pulled on Steve when they heard some guys talking from the inside.

“She any good?”

“Nah man, she can’t blow for shit. Can’t even swallow the whole thing, hafta fuckin’ praise her to take it or some shit.”

“She hot at least? Gotta be from how good ya get it.”

“Could use a boob job, they’re a’ight. Got a great ass for fuckin’ though, not ta mention her pussy. Damn! Sucker takes it so good, that’s it though. I’d rather have her home, naked in bed ready to fulfill my needs, rather than going to fuckin’ school. She don’t need that shit, ain’t gonna do her any good.”

“Damn man, she sounds fine. Glad you’re able to tap that.”

“Hell yeah! I’ll let ya have a turn with her if ya want. Best fuckin lay you’ll ever have.”

“Fuck, man. Think she’ll be able to take both of us?”

“Doubt it, but I’ll make her take it. Once we’re done with her, she’ll be beggin’ for another hard fuck.”

Bucky quickly looked over at Maggie who was standing in shock, her knuckles were white from where they were clutching onto her keys. Tears formed in her eyes as she played the words in her head.

“Mags?” She shook her head frantically, backing away from the door. 

“Maggie?” Bucky watched as his best friend bolted back down the hallway and down the stairs. He was stuck from wanting to bash Jake’s face in or run after his friend. He decided Jake could wait and ran after Maggie. She had a head start and was most likely just crying in the lobby, but there was no sign of her. He ran outside and looked down the street and couldn’t find her. Whipping out his phone, he called Steve.

“Bucky, what’s up?”

“I can’t find Maggie,” Bucky said frantically as he ran his free hand through his hair.

“What do you mean you can’t find Maggie? She was with you.” He could hear the others in the background asking Steve what was wrong.

“I know that, Steve! Fuckin’ Jake was talkin’ shit ‘bout her and she ran off cryin’ and I can’t find her!” He was furious, he was literally going to go back up and kill Jake for what he said about Maggie.

“Nat said to try the park nearby, the rest of us are leaving to go look around. Don’t worry Bucky, we’ll find her.” He sure hoped so, for if they didn’t he was going to have a fun time introducing Jake to his metal prosthetic fist.

It was late and Maggie dreaded having to go back to her apartment, but Jake was persistent that she did. His threatening voice over the phone had her flinching, but eventually, she did go back. Jake was just stressed about work, was drunk and didn’t mean that stuff he said. Right? He took her out on a fancy date the day before, even bought her her favorite flowers. So surely it had to stress, he’d be fine tomorrow.

She walked back down the hallway and slipped the key into the lock to open the door, but the door swung open to a pissed off Jake who was sporting a busted lip.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time, bitch! Get your ass in here!”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her inside the apartment, bolting the door behind her. He dragged her over to the living room tossing her towards the couch.

“You wanna tell me why some punk decided to start somethin’ with me?” Maggie was still in shock, it wasn’t the first time he’s yelled at you. “You cheating on me with a cripple?” She shook her head, not being able to use her words. Jake backhanded her, splitting her lip.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, bitch!”

“N-no, no, I’m not cheating on you. I’d never cheat on you. He was just dropping me off, I swear!” Maggie hoped he’d understand and believe her. Jake grabbed a hold of her chin harshly bringing her face up to his.

“Ya better not be lyin’ to me girly-girl.” She shook her head frantically, hands on his shoulders.

“No baby, he’s just a friend, nothing more. I love you, you know that.” It felt wrong to say that, but she knew that Jake loved her. He always made sure she ate breakfast in the morning before she left, he took care of her and treated her like a queen when she pleased him. It made him happy, even if she always ended up having to cover up new bruises when he was angry. She smiled up at him, ignoring the pain of her split lip, she kissed him.

“I don’t have class until three tomorrow, so we can sleep in then, yeah?” Jake smiled down at her, pulling her up from the couch by her waist.

“Yeah sweet cheeks, we can sleep in tomorrow. Since we’re gonna be at it all night.” He steered her towards their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

He made her her favorite blueberry pancakes and showered her with kisses and apologizes for hurting her yesterday, the next morning. That it was just stress from work, his boss giving him extra hours. Of course, she accepted the apologies, knowing he didn’t mean any of it. Right?

Jake was watching tv while Maggie was making dinner when someone knocked on the door. Not wanting to have Jake to get frustrated, she said she’d get it. She opened the door to find Bucky and Natasha standing there.

“Hey, guys, what’s up? Did we have another group thing today?” She could tell they noticed her split lip and a black eye.

“Uh, no, no we don’t. Are you okay though?” Bucky asked her.

“Oh, this? Yeah, I’m fine, I just slipped in the kitchen and banged my head that’s all.” Bucky didn’t believe her obviously, neither did Nat. She could feel Jake’s eyes burn into her back. She just hoped they would leave soon before he got angry.

“We were just wondering if you’d like to join us for pizza, it’s Sam’s birthday,” Natasha asked her friend, hoping she’d say yes.

Maggie hesitated and shook her head. “Sorry I can’t, Jake isn’t feeling well and he’s been stressed lately. But wish Sam a happy birthday from me.” They both nodded, saying goodbye. As soon as the door shut Bucky and Nat looked at each other, knowing full well that this wasn’t okay. But they couldn’t do anything now.

Maggie was given more bruises that night, at least they were in places where they were easily coverable. She kept telling herself that it was just stress and that it wouldn’t always be like this.

The others noticed that Maggie wasn’t in school the next day or the following two days. They were getting worried, they called her, left her messages, even went to her apartment to check on her, but they were given no replies. They were sitting on the grass in the courtyard thinking of ways of what they could do and Bucky was getting restless.

“Think we should check her place again?” He asked as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

“We checked there twice already in the past three hours, you sure she’d be there?” Sam watched his friend pace, the grass already starting to shrink down to just dirt.

“But she might be there now.” The group sighed, they all knew he was the closest to her and her lack of communication was surely putting a strain on him. Nat was about to talk to Bucky when his phone went off. With quick movements, he whipped out his phone.

“It’s Maggie,” the group stood up and waited anxiously, “Mags, Mags?”

“Bucky, please, help me!” Bucky stiffened when she started crying.

“Calm down and tell me what’s happening.”

“Jake and his friend are drunk, saying something about ‘this being the best night’.” Bucky could hear angry slurred voices coming from her end, followed by a fist slamming into a door. “They’re at the apartment, but I locked them outside. I-I don’t know, I-I can’t…”

“Maggie, don’t worry. We’re comin’ over, just hang tight and go hide.” Bucky frantically looked at the others who were already slinging their bags on their backs.

“Bucky, please-” There was a crash over the phone, followed by a slurred voice.

“Thought you could lock me out, bitch? It’s rude to keep us waitin’, sweet cheeks.” The phone disconnected and Bucky felt as if he wanted to throw up. He didn’t wait to tell the others what was going on, for they already knew before he started to bolt across campus to his car. The others running after him. As soon as the doors were shut, he gunned it to Maggie's apartment, hoping, praying he would get there in time. Nat calling 911 at the same time.

They ran up to her apartment door to find it slightly ajar, Bucky pushed it open. The place was a mess, picture frames, broken glass, books were littered everywhere. But he didn’t care about that, he heard a scream coming from Maggie’s room and took off there. He burst the door open and found an intoxicated Jake on top of Maggie trying to get her clothes off. While another intoxicated man was watching, trying to pull his pants down. Bucky saw red and went after Jake, Steve going after the other guy.

Bucky pulled Jake off of Maggie, giving Nat an opportunity to rush her out of the room so Jake wouldn’t be able to grab her. It didn’t take long for Steve to bring down the other guy, for he barely even put up a fight. Sam dragged the unconscious man outside, as Steve helped Bucky with Jake. Though Jake was drunk, he still put up a pretty good fight and managed to get a few good hits in before the police barged into the apartment and wrestled him to the ground.

Once Jake was in handcuffs, the two burly officers dragged him out of the room and out of the apartment.

“You’re gonna regret this, you piece of whore trash! I’m the best fuck ya ever gonna get! No one’s ever gonna love ya after I had my way with ya!” Steve held Bucky back from going over there and killing the guy, as the officers shoved him in the back of the vehicle. They let the group come down to the station to give their statements later if they wanted. The group agreed.

Bucky shook Steve off him and made his way over to Maggie who was finished being looked at by a paramedic. Her split lip was bleeding, a black eye, and bruises all over her face, neck, arms, and probably more hiding under her ripped clothes. Two broken fingers, a sprained wrist, and a few bruised ribs. Once the paramedic did all she could, giving Maggie instructions to pick up medication at the hospital, she crawled her way into Bucky’s arms and cried. Bucky held his best friend in his arms and tried not to cry, but the others watched as his own tears ran down his face.

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[juliettetsunenaga]

[Log://2487.07.08] Blue Orchids and Tears [a story from old west]

[2487.07.08] 03:00

It was the early hours of Saturday morning and I was still working in the office. It had been a busy but useful week and I was finally done with calls and messages and reviews and ridiculous questions from the Bodega staff.

I padded silently through the cash office, out on to the shop floor, and through the few aisles in my stocking clad, shoeless feet. I stopped; some cheap synthesised Scotch or something nasty masquerading as Sake? I grabbed a bottle and slowly wandered back through to my office behind the small store.

I engaged the lock and then placed the bottle down on the console table beside the couch. From a drawer behind my desk I grabbed a hoodie, some jeans, and I changed slowly as I watched the feed screen cycling through the live images of the store, the street, the stairs up to the apartments in Sector 2.

I folded my dress, my stockings, pulled my hair from its formal knot at the base of my neck where it conceals the data port that pulses there gently, despite it’s current non-functioning state, and shook it out. I placed the clothes in the drawer where my hoodie and jeans had been a few minutes earlier. I wandered round my desk and slouched, cross legged, on the couch, looking intently at the bottle of cheap Scotch on my left. Sake wouldn’t have cut it tonight.

Dart had mentioned my orchids in our meeting here earlier this week. I’d shuddered as I replied that they were there in memory, though I hadn’t told him of whom or of what.

I relaxed back in to the couch with a sigh and I reached up for the bottle. I contemplated it for a few minutes, my breath barely breaking the silent solitude of my office. I shrugged to myself, and I twisted the small metal cap which crackled as it gave way under my hand. I sniffed suspiciously at the contents and looked down with one eye in to the bottle before giving in to it.

I drank, from the bottle. It was as disgusting as it smelled and tasted as cheap as I should have been selling it to the customers here in Cocoon. But that didn’t stop me, nor did it stop me wishing I still had a bottle of that beautiful imported stuff from Nieu Amsterdam… but my last bottle was due for delivery to it’s recipient. I looked at the time on my datapad, it was well after midnight. It was due for delivery today with the handwritten tag.

Earlier this week I’d taken time to carefully wrap the bottle in a square of vibrant blue silk, and I’d fastened the ends with my Tokuma pin. I placed the wrapped bottle in a laquered wooden box and I hung the tag from the pin.

I traced my fingers over the familiar shape absently, it’s contours known to me as if they were part of me after all these years. It was a hard and last minute decision to put it in the box… but somehow it seemed the right thing to do. The fitting thing to do. At least this way he’d know I was sorry, really sorry. I flipped the tag again to read the words I’d written.

“Six years ago today you told me, “It don’t matter if it’s the worst day of your fuckin’ life… To everyone else, it needs to be bein’ your best. Unshakable, always in control.” So drink the Scotch, get done with your crying where no one can see and then be unshakeable for everyone to see.

One day I’ll learn to listen to you to you first time round, I’m sorry.

She would have wanted you to have this.

J x”

He’s either going to smile or seethe, or worse… somewhere in between and continue to attempt to make my life a living hell. I continued to drink, the ‘Scotch’ was getting more palatable the more I swigged at the luke warm synthesised ethanol right from the bottle.

I keep defending him. People mention him, or mention his questionable business methods… and I defend him. He pushed me in to doing some awful, terrible things in 2481. But, in a fucked up way he’d always sort of looked out for me too despite it all. Especially once she was gone… before I was gone.

The creeping warmth afforded by the booze was taking hold and I continued making my way through the bottle at a rate of knots. Sometimes you just need oblivion to forget…

…it wasn’t my night. Morning. Whatever. Oblivion came at the bottom of the bottle, but as so happens when you drink to excess you don’t always get what you want. I was drifting in and out of conciousness on the small couch. Memories were flooding in and slipping away… and I cried.

Heavy, unshed tears held in for months rolled down my cheeks and then I finally gave way to unconciousness. Blissful nothing? No. ‘Nothing’ but a vibrant flashback of a life once lived… a night six years ago exactly.

[2481.07.08] 20:00

I smirked at him as I kicked my boots across the litter strewn ground, passing some weepy woman on her way out, and I approached him at the front door to his apartment behind the comic book store. “How’s things Mr Unfuckinghappy?”

He glanced down with the sudden realization that he still didn’t have a shirt on, “Apparently not as fuckin’ relaxin’ as I was hopin’ they’d be.”

I laughed, “Good look. So, who’s the chic you’ve got in tears on your doorstep?”

“Her. Who?” He asked, arching a brow, “OH! That’s just some droider I’m whorin’ out on the side for pocket change.”

I shrugged, “Well… now we’ve got the pleasantries out the way…” I surveyed the room absently, “Any listeners in here?”

He chuckled, “Does it really fuckin’ matter. If I got 'em, they’re mine.”

I smiled and my eyes narrowed, “Then, fancy telling me what that revelation by text was last night? I’m not fucking impressed… jesus… you could have just told me you had listeners in my office.”

“Actually they were belongin’ to Midge, and I was simply conferencin’ in on 'em. Ya know…friends tend to be sharin’ shit like that.”

“Fine.” I reached down to pull my socks up. I folded my arms across my chest again, “Incidentally… what exactly *did* you expect me to tell my brother when he asked me what the fuck you were doing in HQ?”

“Oh, I don’t fuckin’ know, maybe somethin’ along the lines of idle threats to keep your trigger happy underlin’s in line so they don’t go fuckin’ over our treaty…” He shrugged, “Somethin’ fuckin’ logical like that.”

“You are so contradictory… and totally fucking irrational.”

He hunched over to grab pick a shirt from a small pile of dirty laundry on the floor, “…and always fuckin’ right.”

I couldn’t resist checking out his ass as he reached for the shirt. I smirked to myself, “…you’re starting to sound like a woman.”

“Maybe, but 'least I can drive.” He said, he sniffed the shirt a couple of times before pulling it over his head.

I shook my head and frowned as I did so. “Right… you’re still fucking irrational.”

“An’ how’s that, exactly? …not like I was stompin’ up an’ down the streets screamin’ 'bout MY failures now.”

I replied sweetly, “…that temper of yours….” And then I lost my composure, “I’d just seen her BLOWN to fucking pieces Fifth, tell me what the fuck I was supposed to do?”

He brushed past me with a nudge so he could lean up against the table, “Remember that you’re the actin’ head of corporation, and it’d probably be better to be not go losin’ yours…”

I stumbled in my heels as he nudged me, “Acting head? Right… right… NO. I’m just leading the investigation, Fifth. I’m not acting fucking anything.”

He looked around the room with a wave of his arm for emphasis, “Funny, I don’t see no one fuckin’ else 'ere. YOU ARE the highest rankin’ officer on the streets, Julz. YOU ARE the actin’ 'head by default. If you go 'round losin’ your head metaphorically…or physically…the rest of them are just gonna flail 'round without meanin’ or purpose.”

I stared at my feet as I kicked a heel against my opposite toe, “I’m doing my best, Fifth.” I said quietly.

He continued on with his point anyway, “..and then some fool will pop off a few 'rounds at a gloatin’ IPS officer, and all this pretty independance will come crashin’ down with a rubber fuckin’ stamp from the UBC.”

I bit my lip as I considerd his theory, “I said I’m doing my best. I’ve done everything you asked…”

He leaned forward in a whisper, “Your best needs to get better. It don’t matter if it’s the worst day of your fuckin’ life…To everyone else, it needs to be bein’ your best. Unshakable, always in control.”

He changed the subject, “Christ, I sobbed like a lil fuckin’ bitch when I 'eard the news…” He pushed his glasses down the brim of his nose, “Do my eyes look red to you?”

I locked my eyes on his, I shrugged. My voice came out as a whisper, “I’ve not had time to cry.”

“Good, 'cause that means no one saw ya doin’ it.”

I chewed the corner of my lip again, “I can’t be my best until I let go.” I stated flatly.

“Then you find a fuckin’ closet, a hole in the ground, a toilet and you let the fuck go…just be comin’ out lookin’ right as rain when you’re down.” He sighed, “In happier times, if ya ain’t laughin’, lovin’, flirtin’ or cryin’…they’re gonna call you a fuckin’ robot. But in a crisis, if you’re showin’ 'em those things…they’re gonna call ya weak. It takes a leader to be shuttin’ 'emselves off for the sake of others.”

I winced, “What if I am fucking weak? You’ve said it yourself, I’m just a fucking kid.”

“Then two thangs are gonna fuckin’ happen. One, you’re gonna die…” He said, ticking it off with a finger, “Two, West is gonna fall.” He shook his head, “But neither one of 'em thangs are gonna be happenin’. Keng wouldn’t have tapped ya for this if she didn’t see somethin’ in ya worth tappin’.”

I swallowed hard against the sob rising in my throat. My eyes glistened, giving me away instantly. “I.. I guess so…”

“YOU GUESS?!”

“Please… fucks sake… don’t shout at me anymore.” I stumbled back a step.

He glared at me, “I don’t want to fuckin’ 'ear I GUESS. I want to 'ear I KNOW…and I damn well want to be believin’ it!”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE, FIFTH. WILL YOU LET ME FUCKING… JUST… JUST FUCKING DO THIS.” I lowered my voice, “I can do it… fucks sake, I’m trying to do it.”

He jumped up as if he were going to suddenly lunge at me, but instead he turned toward the door. I shrieked as he lunged and quickly brough a hand up to my mouth to muffle the noise.

He grumbled, “…you’ve got some fuckin’ cryin’ to do.”

“Oh, fuck you.” I replied meekly.

He threw a middle finger up over his shoulder, “…and ya ain’t to be comin’ out 'till it’s all fuckin’ out. Lock the door behind ya, whenever the hell that actually happens.”

“Wait… Fifth…” I stopped to compose myself again mid-sentence. “…if no one else is seeing, I’m not fucking sitting here whilst my world falls apart… on my own…. I’ll just go home.”

“Your world already came crashin’ down, Julz. Best be gettin’ used to the new one.” He said, and then he turned around to look at me one last time before he steped out and sealed the door.

I screeched, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD…. FUCK YOU…” I slumped against the table with my head in my hands.

I pushed myself away from the desk and launched a few kicks at the door before sliding to the floor. “I fucking hate you… you fucking prick…” I muttered before the tears begin to stream down my face. I smashed the back of my head into the metallic door and finally, the long, heart wrenching sobs found their way out as she sat in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He slumped into the lawn chair just outside. With a heavy sigh, he reached for an old magazine littering the ground and he settled in for a long wait.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, I stood and faced the door pounding it with my small fists before giving in and resting my forehead against the shutter. I kicked it once. “I WANT TO GO HOME, YOU BASTARD… JUST LET ME GO HOME.”

“…sounds like you got 'nother few hours in there, at least.” He called out through the closed door, as he thumbed through the loose pages to find the centerfold. “Well 'ello Miss Septober.”

“IT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR… JESUS… I’LL… FUCKING… I’LL PUT A CALL OUT AND THEY’LL COME AND GET ME…”

“THEN DO IT!” He snapped back.

I stormed over to the table and viciously swept everything off of it with one hand. “I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I FUCKING HATE YOU.” I threw myself to the floor by the wall and wrapped my arms around my knees. “… I fucking… want her back… jesus…” The sobs wracked my small frame as I was crunched up against the wall.

“I know…” was all he could really say.

I cried, “fucking god… I can’t do this shit without her… it’s all my fault….” I rested my forehead on my knees and tried to catch my breath. I grabbed a glass from the floor where I’d cleared the desk and launched it viciously across the room, watching it smash on the far wall, “IT’S ALL MY FUCKING FAULT.” I screamed again.

He muttered under his breath, “Yeah, I’ll be chargin’ 'er for whatever the fuck that was.”

I sniffed loudly and slumped against the wall. I wiped my wrist across my face and stared blankly, the tears still fell and my breaths were too fast. I whispered quietly, “I…. I… I didn’t mean fo… for this to happen… it’s all my fucking fault…” and then I shouted, “Please, Fifth… I’m fine, please… I’m okay.”

“Know how I know you ain’t ready to be comin’ out of there yet? he asked, flipping to the next page.

I sniffed again, “How…?” I scrabbled round on the floor for something to throw at the door but found nothing so leant back against the wall. I closed my eyes.

“…'cause ya ain’t realized that I never locked the fuckin’ door.”

I leapt up to my feet and ran to try the door. “FUCK. YOU.” I screamed as I tried to open it. Daylight shone in from the street and the faint neon glow of the city. I glared at him for a fraction of a second before I raised my hand, “fuck you.” I whispered as I started to swing my arm to slap him.

He swept his leg out from under the chair towards my ankle “…need I fuckin’ say more?”

I didn’t see his leg move and I hit the deck as his boot made contact with my foot, “… you’ve been waiting for me to fall on my ass this WHOLE time?” I hissed, then I sniffed and wiped my eyes as I looks up at him.

He kept his eyes on the magazine article, “You’re lettin’ your emotions cloud your fuckin’ judgement, Julz. If ya ain’t level headed, ya overlook the obvious…like the door bein’ unlocked…or your legs flyin’ over your head ..back inside.”

I didn’t move, “Make me.” I stated as I wiped my wrist across my face again.

He peeked up over the edge of the magazine, “I could, I don’t have to. You’re on your ass, in filth…lookin’ like ya just got raped…all because you were too emotionally unstable to think clearly. You’ll save some dignity by simply standin’ up…walkin’ back in…and shuttin’ the door without 'nother word.”

I huffed loudly as I stood and walked purposefully back into the apartment. I stomped around looking around, my heels clacking loudly on the floor as I did so. I sniffled some more. I sighed, “Seriously… you don’t have a fucking mirror in here?”

“…have you seen me?”

I grumbled and sniffed, “You need a woman… to do something in here… It’s… an interesting place…” I kicked through the discarded stuff from the table. I leant against it and expertly ran my forefingers under my lashes to catch the mascara that was halfway down my face.

He chuckled, “Had one. Trust me, weren’t worth it.”

I raised each leg in turn and pulled my scrunched up socks back up over my knees and up my thighs. I looked around as I did so, “…she’s clearly not been around in a while…”

“Yep. Neglected 'er into submission then split.”

I shook my head. I stood tall and smoothed my hair down. I straightened out my tie and rebuttoned my cuffs. “Hmmmm…” I tugged at my skirt to straighten it. “… you got any cigarettes?” I raised my voice a little so he could hear.

He rolled the already abused magazine up tightly, “Don’t smoke.” He said, flinging it out of the small alley and into the street.

I shrugged and walked towards the open door. I stepped into the alley looking a whole lot more together. I stopped in front of him. “I don’t think I was ever meant to wear all this… corporate gear.”

He smirked, “Yeah, 'cause six inch mini-skirts are such a fuckin’ hassle.”

I rolled my eyes. I bent at the waist and adjusted the buckles on my shoes before slowly straightening up. “… like you’re really complaining.” I ran my fingers under my eyes again one last time.

“Not if I’m lookin’ for a cheap piece of ass, no…I wouldn’t be.”

“CHEAP P… Cheap piece of ass? I’m not fucking cheap.” I stopped shouting almost immediately and looked over my shoulder into the street.

He hunched forward over his knees and craned his head awkwardly to sneak a peek up her skirt, “…if I can see it without payin’ nothin’, it’s fuckin’ cheap.”

I crossed my legs immediately and tugged my skirt down, “Fucks sake, Fifth!!”

He chuckled as he slowly righted himself, “There ain’t no point in bein’ anythin’ but to the point, Julz. If your point ain’t to be gettin’ fucked, don’t be makin’ it look like your hard up for it.. Mini skirts are only good for gettin’ attention and easy access.”

I stuttered, “I errr… uhm… shut up, okay?” I turned to walk away before glancing back, “Before you made… THAT happen…. I needed to tell you something important.”

He sighed, “If it’s 'I’M SORRY’…save it.”

I turned back to face him, “Trust me when I tell you that you want to hear this.” she whispered.

“…out with it then.”

I shook my head, “In there..” I pointed at the apartment. “… I’m not saying anything about it out here. Five minutes and I’ll be out of your way.”

He tipped his head toward the door, standing. We wander back insider and I closed the door behind us, “Redux.”

He arched a brow in silence.

“I did a full system search. All databases, all files. Nothing came up… and yes, before you ask I cleared my search history.”

“Good.” He nodded, “That means she kept it off the books by maskin’ the fundin’ as other projects.”

I nodded, “I’ll go now… I… that was the only reason I interrupted your evening. Sorry… about your stuff…” I looked guiltily at the heap by the table.

“It’s just stuff, Julz…only stuff.”

“I smashed a glass… I can sort out some new ones for you…”

“Yeah, I heard…very distinctive fuckin’ sound.” He rolled his eyes with a short laugh. “What did I just say though? One of these days you’ll be listenin’ to me the first time 'round.”

I nodded, and opened the door stepping into the street, “Thanks… by the way.”

“…WHAT DID I JUST FUCKIN’ TELL YOU?!” He elbowed the door control “Women!”

[indoafrikanqueen-blog]

Rhonda, age 15 emergency room

...Yeah, I been to juvee, what about it? I was up at Spofford --they got legends bout me--thought they wasn't gon git rid a' me, but yo' I had to git de fuck up outta dere, they had hoes that murder people in that piece and I'm baaad and all but I ain't never murdered nobody yet and I try not to fuck up nobody too much less they mama cain't recognize 'em

Last night, my man Ray-Ray, he 23 and built better than buster douglass well anyway, we was over to his crib and he was tryin to git on for some but he been locked up for 4 months and I 'ont know that that nigga been doin--shit, I know what I was doin up in Spofford-- so when I tole him I was having my menstruals, he decided to get plexed. He smoked a blunt and wouldn't take me home and den the nigga went n' fell asleep. I was like damn, here I am at Ray-Ray's crib and I got a motherfuckin curfew and a math test tomorrow (I'm trying to do good in school for probation and dis lady who teach english say I got potential --which I did look up in the dictionary. It mean I gots mad promise if my ass don't end up in jail).

So I'm lookin for a pencil, anything to write on which, when I find it, is a paper towel and thinkin that Ray-Ray ain't helpin me none and he must be a stupid nigga to boot cuz he ain't got no paper and I had to sharpen the pencil wit a knife. I starts to think about findin me a new man.

Me and my math problems plexing each other to death, when Big Mac come knockin. He Ray-Ray's cousin so I let him in. He say,      where Ray-Ray? I'm like he sleeping, he blunted out-      Ahhe say,you wanna watch a movie

I look at the napkin, crunch it up, make a perfect 3 pointer and follow Big Mac to the living room. He put in the tape and turn off the light. Then the movie come on and at first I'm fixin to git up cuz this ain't my kind of movie --girls in all kinds of crazy positions suckin white boys off, bitches lettin 'em whip they ass and tie em up. That's at first, cuz the next thing I know I'm feelin crazy shit go through me:      cunt juice drippin down      my leg and I'm freakin      myself out cuz i thought      that shit only happen at      Spofford. Cuz I'm imagi-      nin I'm stompin all the      white boys. Walkin up to      em while dey whippin dem      girls and I'm stickin .45s in      dey backs---but that ain't all.      I'm thinkin after I kill em,      de ladies gon want to fuck      me, and yeah, that's the part      I'm trippin on, that I want them      to fuck me and that Ray-Ray      didn't never make me feel like      the cuties in juvee. And I look over at Big Mac to see if he know yet by the look on my face that I'm a fuckin homo. Cuz if he don't know yet I want to fix my face before he guess. And when I look at him I'm like I know this nigga done lost his mind cuz the bitch is sittin there with his dick outta his pants and his hand movin all fast n shit and he stop when he see me, den he start talkin real deep bullshit he say,      Rhonda come here, Why don't you      do me, Come on Rhonda do me,      Ray-Ray ain't gonna mind, I ain't      gonna tell him.

He reach over and touch my titty and me, ms. bad ass all of a sudden cain't move I'm frozen, I mean I couldn't move      damn you cute      girl, I wanna git my groove      on wit you, I always... The nigga stop talkin then. He all grunts and shit and I'm imaginin I'm on another planet tryin to think about the math test and that lady-teacher I got and I feel all that POTENTIAL running the fuck away cuz I won't claw this nigga to death cuz I cain't even believe it's happenin cuz he Ray-Ray's cousin and cuz i ain't never felt no pain like this so I don't feel it/ I /think/ bout/ this/ time/I/beat/this/bitch/ so /bad /she /lost/ 6/ teeth/ and/ got /scars /to /this /day/ from/the box/ cutter/ I /slashed /cross /her/face/

I guess he done cuz he start to say somethin      don't worry girl, I know you.......

And I don't hear the mothafucka finish cuz I'm outta the room and shakin Ray-Ray so hard he think it's a earthquake in Bed-Stuy. I make that nigga git up and take me home in his mama's raggedy-ass hoopty.

And I start cryin when I see my projects and commence to tellin Ray-Ray everything. First thing he do is say,      hell naw, you my bitch,      ah'm a take care of      this shit. Den he tell me to take a bath an he gon call me after he settle this shit. Then he leave. I let myself in and hope mama ain't wake. She ain't. I go to de bathroom, flick de light on, watch de roaches git de fuck out my way, and set the water to run. I wuz gonna take a real hot bath, but I membered too late we ain't got no hot water right now. So, I pullt the drain and went to bed. But all I'm thinkin bout is my test and my potential--- how ahm gon git it back-- so I find the damn book and jist study and study and study till round bout 7:30 when I'm still wide awake and fixin to go to the school. For the first time I'm gon make first period. I'm steppin out the door and I see Ray-Ray walkin up, he look real mad. I don't feel nothin but good cuz I know I can pass. He git closer and I smell malt on him. He say,      I see you like them clothes, bitch and I'member right then I ain't changed he say it again,      yeah, you like the fuck smell on them clothes. I go "you crazy nigga, I ain't like shit about yo cousin" he like,      you lyin cunt, Big tole me de      whole story, He say you wanted to fuck him,      He say you come over to him while he      tryin to watch a movie and put      your hand on his dick and      He say he told you he wasn't gon'      disrespect me like that but you kept      touchin on him and I      cain't blame the nigga      for goin for his. I cain't believe you      did that shit, Rhonda. You spose to      be my girl and you go fuckin my cousin.

He got me backed up in the corner in the lobby. People see us and don't nobody say shit. I don't say shit again cuz ahm in shock and de only think I'm thinkin is bout how to figure x=y2 when he say      You ain't got nothin to say, bitch the way to solve x=y2 was still runnin through my mind when he hit me and I fell down and I felt him kickin math answers out my head. I got sad cuz I wasn't gon' make first period and my POTENTIAL act like it ain't never comin back

-- letta simone-nefertari neely, When we were mud