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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

Note

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

Prompt Smash Game | Send Me A Prompt💜 | A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive.

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on.

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings. And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers.

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year.

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago.

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard, leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything through the heavy weight around him, the one cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room.

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale.

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes.

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud.

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together.

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face.

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?”

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her.

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth.

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Spilt Ink

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romanceimp · 4 years ago

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Pregnant s/o hcs: Mirio, Bakugo, Todoroki, Midoriya, Iida, Tamaki

SFW, just super fluffy

Mirio:

If you don’t think this man is tearing up when you tell him... uhhh you’d be wrong

He is crying over you and so happy, will kneel and just kiss your tummy

And when you’re in bed that night going to sleep, every few minutes he will nuzzle in closer and whisper, “hey guess what? We’re gonna have a baby”

Anytime he says he loves you now he says it to your tummy too

“I love you Y/n, I love that you are mine and I love that you’re going to be the mother of my child” *bends down* “And I love you too baby”

He will have a really hard time waiting until the second trimester to tell anyone but once he is able, everyone will know, and he’s going to have a party in your honor.

He will treat you like a queen, back rubs and foot rubs...

I feel like when you first tell him you’re pregnant he will come home a few days later with a box... when you open it, it’s a maternity dress, and its actually really pretty, with lace and silk, and nice and stretchy...

“I know you don’t need it now, but I saw it when I was out and thought it would look perfect on you...”

He will compliment you every second of every day, will trace your stretch marks and tell you they make you beautiful because it’s all part of you becoming a mother, it’s a natural tattoo, a reminder of how you’re growing a life inside you

He will want to throw a gender reveal party

And no, it can’t be as simple as balloons popping out of a box, he’s gotta have something extravagant to celebrate like fireworks, monster trucks, or a paid actor dressed as a baby

You’re having his baby! This is a pinnacle moment in his life and he is not about to have some basic ass party

Mirio is definitely the kind of guy who thinks you can’t have sex because it could hurt the baby, you will have to make a very embarrassing call to your doctor about that...

He is looking forward to owning dad sandals (who are we kidding he prolly already does)

Bakugo:

This man will shit himself, make sure he is sitting down

“Bakugo... I’m pregnant”

“Hah?”

“I’m having a baby! You’re gonna be a dad”

He’s really happy and excited, he has no doubt you’ll be an amazing mom but he’s kinda worried about him being a dad...

Am I fit to raise a kid? Will I be a good dad?

He will probably start working more and almost go on over drive... He will start coming home later, picking up earlier shifts... And when you ask him, “Katsuki, are you not happy about the baby?” He will kinda break down and tell you “No of course I’m fucking happy about the baby, I just want the world to be safe for our kid... and I only have 8 months till then and-” He drops to his knees in front of you and he’s tearing up. You’ll get onto your knees too and just hug him, “Katsuki, you can’t fix the world before we have our baby,” you’ll look at him lovingly as he realizes how absurd he was being. “But we can prepare to be the best parents we can be...” “Prepare? We’re already gonna be the best parents.”

Okay, Bakugo hypes up the baby too, like...

“Katsuki, come here! The baby is kicking!” *he puts his hand on your tummy* “Baby’s so strong, just like us,” *grabs you and kisses you* “I knew we made a fucking perfect kid”

He will try kill anyone who oversteps the boundary with the bump (like touching the bump without asking)

“OI EXTRA, you wanna take your fucking hands off my woman and my kid or do I have to do that for you...”

Bakugo would be very unnecessarily competitive in birthing class

Will wake you up in the middle of the night at least once, he’s just laying on his back staring wide eyed at the ceiling... “What if I explode the baby?”

You’ll roll over and look at him annoyed, “you won't explode the baby,”

He will settle again once you give him cuddles

You cannot tell me that he would not be your biggest cheerleader when you’re actually giving birth, “PUSH, FUCKING PUSH DUMB ASS!”

Todoroki:

This man freaks out for a sec... cuz daddy issues. But he has a strong resolve so he will come out of it quickly and decide how to

“Shoto, you aren’t anything like Endeavor, you’re going to be an amazing dad”

He will be extremely happy, but his excitement will be softer

Everyday after you tell him he says you’re glowing

He will want to cook you special things because it’s healthy for the baby, or so his mother told him

Speaking of his mother, she taught him how to knit when he went to visit her in the hospital so you’ll find him knitting little hats and bootie and jackets for the baby

He will nest just as much, if not more than you do

You’ll find him awake at 3AM trying to put together some bullshit ikea thing for the baby with the tiny allen wrench they give you for free. “Shoto, come back to bed... we can do that in the morning” “But the baby needs somewhere to sleep,” “Yes, and I’m not due for another two months”

Shoto is already so soft but I think he would be softer

Like when you fall asleep on the couch, he gets home and just cuddles up to you and asks your bump how it’s day was. He will talk to the bump until you wake up and then he just pepper your face with kisses.

He is the only one of all these men who doesn’t shit himself and die when watching the birthing tape. I think he would be calm and say something like “a woman’s body is made to carry and deliver a child, there’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Midoriya:

When you tell him, he’s gonna cry

He will want to call his mom right away

Midoriya is the kinda guy to have a box of his things from when he was a kid stored away to give to his child (it’s all All Might merch but, ya know)

He definitely panics and worries if he is going to be a good father but he takes all that anxiety and just turns it into energy to care for you with

He is already signing you up for birthing classes

This man would take you to all your doctors visits, acupuncture appointments, prenatal massages, and even a strange healing session done in the back room of a health good shop (don’t worry, he checked google reviews, 346 people, and 5 stars) (You weren't sure about it at first, but you felt very at peace afterwards, def worth the 5 star review)

He just really wants you to be happy and healthy

It would be understatement to say he treats you like a queen... he treats you like a goddess, and he tells you everyday how grateful he is that you’re his love and giving him a baby. Especially when you feel insecure about how your body is changing

He will want to make the nursery Hero themed... with an All Might wall decal... you’ll eventually opt for something a little less... exuberant like jungle animals or something. But the compromise is the All Might mobil that spins and says “I am here” while playing twinkle twinkle little star.

He will read to the bump, and sing to it because he wants the baby to know his voice

Will make a ‘goodnight’ song with you for the baby to sing to it every night

Tenya:

Tenya is so excited and immediately starts thinking of things he needs to do for you and baby

The day after he will come home with a bag from the store full of prenatal vitamins and herbal teas that are safe to drink

“My love! I have brought you Evening Primrose supplements, it’s supposed to help with your delivery.”

I think he has name ideas picked out already and is very excited to show them to you. They are all related to the Iida family.

He would ask his brother for advice and would be so excited to tell him when it’s time.

Don’t even worry about pregnancy brain. Iida’s got you, he will help you remember everything you need to know and he will be patient with your cloudy thoughts.

Iida is so matter of fact tho, I can see it coming off as insensitive, especially when you’re dealing with mood swings.

“Darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you it’s just that those chips make your stomach hurt and I was only trying to-” “YOU JUST DONT WANT ME TO BE HAPPYYYY!!!!!!” “My darling, I want all the happiness in the world for you, you are the mother of my child, I- please don’t cry”

He really loves you a lot and he will learn to be a little gentler with you during this phase of the pregnancy

Braxton hicks contractions (the little fake contractions you get during the third trimester, closer to the due date) will send him into panic mode.

But he is also so organized that he is R E A D Y

You clutch your stomach and inhale sharply and sit down, he’s already running to get the hospital bag and getting the keys for the car.

(The hospital bag includes, diapers, baby clothes, blankets, stress balls for you to squeeze during contractions and a birth mix which includes mostly Baroque composers but theres a few taylor swift and harry styles songs because he thinks it would be cool if the baby was born to Adore You, because Iida adores you and that baby so much)

Tamaki:

He is terrified

But ultimately knowing that he has a child on the way actually does wonders for his confidence because he wants his child to have a good example and he doesn’t want the child to inherit his crippling shyness

He really is there for you and much like Shoto, shows it in a soft way

Tamaki is so food oriented already that he is especially considerate of your cravings and would probably try them, no matter how weird they are

Pregnancy makes you super hungry but thats okay because Tamaki is a brilliant cook

Tamaki is also very sensitive to the knowledge that it will change after the baby is born and that he has you all to himself for just a little while longer

He is going to take you on special weekend trips, like a sleepy beach town to just relax and eat good food

He will also take you on extra dates because he just wants to soak up your time together as a couple

He is very aware of how much work you’re doing constantly to carry his child and he will want to spoil you

“Y-you’re just so beautiful, a-and you chose me, and now you’re carrying my child...I just... I love you so much and thank you for letting me be yours b-because you make me so happy.”

He will freak out when he sees the birthing tape

“I-I am so sorry, I can’t believe I’ve put you through this... you’re- you- This is all my fault...” *panic panic panic*

But when you’re actually in labour he is very supportive, he will just apologize while you’re screaming in agony and wish there was something else he could do other than bring you ice chips...

#bnha #mha #mha hcs #bnha hcs #tamaki #iida #deku #midoriya #izuku #katsuki #bakugo #todoroki #mirio #shoto #amajiki #togota

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nommy-thoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Danger Noodles Chapter 3 The Part With the Vore

Wordcount: 2 K

Summary: Giant nagas, unlike micro nagas, have gastric brooding. In other words, Protective Baby Noms are a thing!

Note: This story follows two timelines, one with vore and one without. This chapter belongs to the vore timeline and is almost entirely different from the non-vore version.

Cowritten with @that-prey-lounge!

[Danger Noodles Masterpost]

~~~~~

Roman awoke, heart pounding in his chest. Remus was also awake, he could feel the tense grab on his bicep.

“Wolves.”

“They won’t come in here.”

“They might come for the butchered carcass. We didn’t eat it and it smells of blood. The bears haven’t just put the pressure on us.”

Roman bit his lip, glancing down at the three humans snuggled up in their nest of coils. “We can’t let our humans get eaten. Not by anybody. They’re so small and defenseless.”

Remus nodded. “Like babies,” he agreed.

Roman suddenly perked up. “Like babies! Remus, we can protect them like Mom used to protect us!” He looked at the humans again, mentally comparing them to the infants he and Remus had once been. Adult humans were bigger, and the twins weren’t yet fully grown. Roman frowned in realization. “I don’t think we can fit more than one apiece.”

Remus considered it. “Virgil seems most capable of protecting himself.”

The twins shared a look, and Roman picked up Patton in his hands. The little human squirmed slightly, but Roman managed to shush him and lull him back to sleep.

Remus untangled Logan from Virgil and softly rubbed the human’s hair until he was fully asleep again.

“Down the hatch, for protection.” Remus looked over at Roman, who nodded.

Roman opened up, unhinging his jaw. He flexed a muscle in his throat, opening up the right passageway and sealing off the wrong one. It absolutely wouldn’t do to get this wrong. Gently, he eased Patton’s legs down his gullet.

Remus followed his example, easing Logan down the right passageway so he’d be safe in Remus’s pouch.

The twins clicked their jaw shut in near unison, hands supporting their middles as the humans slipped down into them. Unlike their dinners from earlier, the humans stopped at the base of their human-like torsos. Rather than a stomach, they were inside the special brooding pouch every naga had to carry their young in until they were strong enough to handle themselves in the outside world. The twins had never used theirs before, but this felt very right.

Slowly, the twins sank back into their nest, curling up belly-to-belly so that their gently swollen middles touched. Roman pulled Virgil over, draping him across their bellies, and without needing even a word to communicate the idea, the twins wrapped each other and the humans in a protective hug, then coiled their tails all round so that the three little ones were protected in the very center of the ball. Their arms kept the heavy mass of scales suspended over Virgil so he couldn’t be crushed by accident.

“Remember curling up together in Momma’s pouch?” Remus said softly, already drifting off again.

“Mm-hm,” Roman murmured. “That was good. Never felt safer. I couldn’t tell where my tail ended and yours began, most of the time.”

Neither naga considered, as they fell back asleep, that humans didn’t have childhood experience with being protected inside their parents, and wouldn’t immediately realize that that was what this was.

The twins were awoken by the sound of screaming.

The rising sun softly filled the usually dark cave with gentle morning light. Virgil filled it with panicked screams, frantically squirming between them. The two nagas moved apart.

Virgil scrambled away from them and over to the three humans’ bags. After a moment’s fumbling, he yanked his long knife free, brandishing it in the direction of the two nagas, who were clutching their softly bulging bellies.

“What is it?” Roman softly rubbed his middle, feeling Patton wake up inside. “Where’s the danger?”

Virgil spluttered and pointed his knife at the naga. “Spit them up! Right now!”

“Huh?”

“You’re both monsters! You murdered my friends!”

Remus blinked, and then looked at Roman. “Humans don’t have pouches. Roman, humans don’t have pouches.”

“He thinks we killed them.” Roman covered his mouth in horror.

“Of course I think you killed them!” Virgil snarled, clearly enraged. “What happened to Patton being ‘too cute to eat,’ huh? Couldn’t you have at least spared him?” His voice was tight, on the verge of tears. “Couldn’t you have eaten me instead?”

“We did spare them.” Roman put his hands on his abdomen. “They’re safe—”

“Try that with someone else.” The knife pointed at them trembled. “Spit them out, or I’m going to gut you!”

Remus glanced at Roman, making a small hand gesture. Roman nodded, and they pounced.

Roman pinned Virgil on his back. Remus disarmed him and tossed the knife away.

“Listen to us, your friends are safe. We’ve just tucked them away in our pouches.” Roman felt Patton squirm a little more.

“Why should I trust you? You ate my friends!”

Remus scoffed. “It was barely eating. We just put them in our mouths and swallowed. They are not in a stomach, and they’re fine.”

Logan was moving too from the noises surrounding him and the quick movement. Patton was the first to speak, however. “Roman? Is that you?”

Virgil cried out, and Roman felt Patton squirm a little more vigorously.

“Virgil! Where are you? R-Roman! What happened?”

“Wolves got too close for comfort in the night. Remus and I swallowed a couple of you up to keep you safe.” Roman gently patted his belly. “We, uh, forgot humans don’t have baby pouches to do this kinda thing with.”

“Ah,” Logan said, oddly calm, his voice muffled by the layers of Remus’s flesh between them. “That would explain the unusual surroundings.”

“Logan!” Virgil shouted. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Logan said. “This is definitely not a stomach. It’s quite dry, and there’s only one opening, up at the top.” He was quiet for a moment. “Did you say this is a baby pouch?”

“Yeah.” Roman gently rubbed his belly with the heel of his hand. “Naga parents keep their babies in here for the first couple years. Most of my earliest memories of my Momma are her pouch.”

“Fascinating.” Logan sounded like he was itching for his notebook. “That would explain why your food slid past your bellies right to your tails yesterday. I was under the impression that all nagas had two stomachs, but apparently not.”

Roman blinked. “Who told you that?”

Patton perked up. “Oh! Our mouser naga, Dee-Dee!”

“Can— can you let them out?” Virgil interrupted. “This is unnerving.”

Remus nodded and Roman slithered back, letting Virgil up. After a second, the twins started to make a noise not unlike a cat with a hairball, and then Patton and Logan both tumbled to the floor. Luckily, the nagas had been bent over, so it wasn’t a long drop. They picked themselves up.

“Impressive,” Logan said, dusting himself off. “Not a single tear on my clothes, despite your sharp, backward-pointed teeth.”

Virgil grabbed his friends, squeezing them in a tight hug.

After a second, Remus tapped Patton on the shoulder. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but, uhm, Dee-Dee? A mouser naga?”

Patton nodded. “I’m allergic to cats,” he said, like that explained everything. Roman supposed that to a human, it might’ve.

“What is a mouser naga?” he asked.

“They’re nagas, like you guys, but really little.” Patton estimated about two or so feet with his hands. “Dee-Dee is only about this big. He’s just a little fella, and he used to be even smaller, but he’s been growing. I bought him a while ago because we had a real bad mouse problem, but he’s part of the family now.”

The twins blinked owlishly at each other. “We didn’t know those things existed.”

“What did you think I was referring to when I mentioned smaller nagas last night?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged. “Juveniles?”

Remus estimated the size with his own hands and shook his head. “I don’t think we were ever that small before.”

Logan shrugged. “Humans have been basing assumptions of your species off the observation of the micro naga, since it’s dangerous to study you directly. Obviously that resulted in some errors.”

Roman tsked loudly, shaking his head. “Looks like Remus and I might need to let you poke at us more, if you don’t even know about the baby pouch.”

Logan practically lit up. “Would you really?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course, if it’ll help your understanding.”

Virgil sighed quietly. “And the nerd is going to bounce off the walls.”

Logan nodded, grinning broadly. “This is splendid!” he said. “I can get my equipment, and conduct a proper study. I may be the first person to ever have this opportunity.”

Remus scooped Patton up, hugging him softly. “All because this little dumpling won us over.”

Logan paused. “That’s right. Patton, I owe you. Thank you.”

Virgil softly touched Logan on the arm. “I don’t want to be That Guy, but we really have to go. We were supposed to be home yesterday, and we’ve got things to do.”

Roman pouted. “Do you have to?” he asked. “Don’t humans like eating food in the mornings before they do things?”

“We do,” Patton agreed. He gave Virgil a pleading look. “I’m hungry, Vee.”

Virgil sighed. “All we have is room-temperature venison, and our snacks, which we can eat on the go.”

Remus chewed his lip, resisting the urge to just coil around the three of them and never let go. “We’ll escort you to the edge of our territory.”

Logan nodded stiffly. “Sounds reasonable, considering someone got us lost.” He side-eyed Virgil, who at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

“So are you not gonna eat the rest of the cook deer?” Remus asked, edging over toward it.

“I’m thinking no,” Virgil said.

Remus grinned and swept the meat up into his hands. Roman hissed slightly as it vanished into Remus’s stomach.

“You glutton!”

“You snooze, you lose.” Remus shrugged, licking his lips.

“You didn’t even savor it!”

As the twins devolved into arguing, the three humans collected their gear, making sure everything was in place.

Virgil retrieved his knife from where it had been flung. Inspecting it, he frowned. It had a ding on the blade from striking against a rock. That would take some effort to smooth out. He was about to head back to the others when he noticed something that gave him pause. Behind one of the larger rocks was a pile of bones of all sorts. Some of them were definitely inhuman— for example, a curved rib bone nearly as long as Virgil was tall— and he couldn’t spot any obviously human bones in the pile, but even so, a chill ran down his spine.

’That was nearly us.’ Virgil swallowed nervously as he returned to the others. ‘Thank goodness Patton can melt even the iciest of hearts.’

They were on their way out of the woods soon, and the twins’ playful banter almost made Virgil forget about the bones. Almost.

It didn’t take long before the nagas complained that humans walked too slowly. That was all the warning they got before they were scooped up into huge arms. Roman lifted Logan, while Remus picked Virgil and Patton up together, squishing them into each other in his hands for a few moments.

“Remus,” Roman scolded lightly. Holding Logan against his chest with one hand, he used the other to help his brother reposition. Remus ended up with a human in each arm, half leaning on his chest.

“Comfy?”

Virgil squirmed a bit, more uncomfortable with the situation than with his position. “It’s fine.”

Traveling like that, they covered ground much more quickly. Soon, they reached the edge of the twins’ territory. Although they stopped, the nagas looked very hesitant to set their new friends down. Patton patted Remus’s arm. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll come back to visit.”

“Promise me?”

Patton nodded. “I promise.”

Logan brushed himself off. “Of course we’ll return eventually. I’ve been promised cooperation in clearing up biological misconceptions.”

Virgil tightly hugged himself while everyone said their goodbyes. When it came his turn, he gently patted Roman on the forearm. “Thanks… for not eating us.”

“You’re welcome.” Roman softly ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourselves.”

The three humans continued forward, with more than a few backwards glances at their large new friends.

~~~~~

Chapter 4: Home Again

#mine #nommy thoughts #that prey lounge #writing #my writing #guts #sanders sides #this part has vore #collab #danger noodles

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starglossie · 3 years ago

Photo

bokuto/ushijima - g - 4.7k - it’s the simple things

Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

can be read here on ao3 and below under the cut

Bokuto likes to consider himself a simple fellow. This isn’t meant to be taken in a bad way either. Simplicity is not bad. What he takes it as, of course, is that it doesn’t take much for him to determine what he enjoys and what he can really do without.

For example, he loves volleyball. That is his blood and sweat and tears. It’s his first inhale when he wakes up and his last exhale before he sleeps. He loves Yakiniku. Beef is quite literally the best.

He loves words but spelling them is another matter. Well, he doesn’t dislike spelling. He thinks it’s rather fun to figure out what letters go where. To double check with someone—usually Akaashi because Akaashi was so brilliant that Bokuto was happy he could always turn to his best friend with questions and receive the answers he was looking for—about whether or not receive was spelled r-e-c-i-e-v-e or r-e-c-e-i-v-e.

He doesn’t get taxes. Though he figures that’s not something people usually get, they just do. He’d rather not do them, if he had it his way. Then again, being a good citizen also has its perks. Like no jail time.

And he doesn’t think he’d do too well in jail. Well, maybe at first.

To circle to the point of this! Because there’s a point. Do not think there was nothing to gain from this ramble. No, no. You see, when it comes to relationships—do not question the connection between taxes and meat and volleyball and relationships, because it’s there even if one cannot see it because Bokuto knows it’s there—Bokuto is pretty simple.

Again, simple isn’t meant to be a bad thing.

Simple in the way that Bokuto likes people for who they are and whatever it is they wish to be. Simple in the way that Bokuto doesn’t quite get romance, he can figure it out along the way as he normally does, but he knows when he wants someone. When he wants something. And whenever he’s wanted something, he’s always gone for it. Again, simple. If he wants it, why stop himself from having it? If he wanted someone, why stop himself from having them?

Of course, when things get complicated. He understands that. He realizes just because he wants something badly enough doesn’t mean it’ll always find a spot nestled in-between the love-lines of his palms. Doesn’t mean they’ll create a nest and nestle themselves within his ribcage, right by his heart, the birdhome for their fluttering rings to take rest.

But really, when things are simple. It doesn’t take much for Bokuto to find a reason to pursue someone.

It’s the warm up before their big game against the Adlers.

Bokuto’s been looking forward to this game all month because it’s basically one giant reunion! He gets to play with his prodigy, Shouyou. And he gets to show off his wicked spikes set from TsumTsum. And he gets to witness Omi-kun’s nasty southpaw spin.

Not only that but the Adlers have Kageyama and Hoshiumi and Ushiwaka! It’s a whole party as far as Bokuto’s concerned.

“AH YEAH!” Bokuto feels the beautiful sing of his spike ring across the volleyball court. The ball connects with a thunder clap on the other side. His arm feels good. That swing had the right power. And that set? “TsumTsum!” Bokuto flashes Atsumu with two, big thumbs up. “That was an amazing set! You gotta do that like, every time today okay?”

“Hey, you’ll like whatever set I give ya!” Atsumu’s grinning, though. Which means Bokuto delivered exactly how he was supposed to for Atsumu’s standards, and then some.

“Bokuto-san, that was soooo good!” Hinata shouts from behind. He’s stretching with Kiyoomi, who’s currently in the longest split Bokuto’s ever seen.

“Thank you, Shou! I’m gonna do that all game, so watch out!”

“Big talk,” Kiyoomi responds as he extends his body all the way to his right foot to stretch. God he’s so bendy. Like a bendy straw. Bokuto wonders if he had any bones or if he was just jelly and muscle and bendy stuff. “Our bet’s still on, Bokuto-san.”

“Hell yeah. I didn’t forget at all. I want beef! Lots of beef, Omi-kun!”

“You haven’t won yet.”

“I mean, for when I do.”

“Oi, enough chit chat.” Atsumu takes up another ball which means another set was coming. “We’re not done warming up.”

“Right right!” Bokuto gets ready for the set. He’s ready for it when a giant thunk resounds throughout the court.

Everyone’s heads turn just in time to catch no one other than Ushijima Wakatoshi receive a volleyball straight to the head. It was the most beautiful thing Bokuto’s ever been able to witness in his twenty-three years of life. Ushijima didn’t even stutter. He barely quivered. He took the ball to the head with so much grace and power.

Bokuto clutched his chest. Felt a horribly loud, wonderful ache. The way his blood would pump and his heartbeat would pulse whenever he was about to serve. Or whenever he got close enough to a dog to pet.

It was an enjoyment. It was a like.

“That was so hot…” Bokuto murmurs as he watches the Adlers coach rush over to check on Ushijima who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be okay…

Bokuto grins. Then turns his attention back to Atsumu who’s doubled over with laughter and tears in his eyes. It takes about three minutes for him to calm down but when he does, they don’t miss a beat with their sets and spikes.

The synergy of setter and spiker carries them through the game, and it’s enough to give them the win once it’s all said and done.

“You lost the bet,” Kiyoomi says in the locker room after their coach finished congratulating them on a game well played.

Bokuto wipes his face off with his towel, “Mmm. Yeah, I did.” It’s not a bad outcome. All he has to do is ask the mascot to borrow his Jackal suit for a video. And… find a bikini big enough to fit over the suit. But that’s not really important right now. Gold eyes flicker up to meet Kiyoomi, eager and full of wonder. Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow and Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi is incredibly single.

This puts Bokuto in a stellar good mood as he makes a beeline for the Adlers locker room.

He gets a few hellos, a couple of questioning looks as he all but storms through. But that’s fine! Because he’s on a mission. A not so secret mission because now half his team knows that he’s interested in Ushiwaka and wants to take him out.

“Because he took a volleyball straight to the head?” Atsumu was on the floor, near death, from laughing so hard his spleen nearly exploded.

“No no that was really cool,” Hinata said on the bench, fists clenched in solidarity for his mentor. “I for sure thought he was gonna die!”

“He brings a new definition to the word hard headed…” Kiyoomi said though Bokuto couldn’t tell if it was said in a derogatory way or in a awe-wow-that’s-so-cool kinda way. So he decided it was both.

His teammates cheered him on to propose, well no. Proposition? Hm, no. Not the right word either. He was going to propel himself (yeah, that felt right) into the Adlers locker room and into Ushijima’s face and ask a very simple question.

“Ushiwaka!” Bokuto hollers as he finds the man in question step from around the corner. Fresh out the shower with his hair dripping wet and a towel hanging low on his hips.

Ushijima locks eyes with Bokuto and wow, he really was handsome up close. There’s even a red spot from when the volleyball had hit him on the head! Still there! God, that was so cool…

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Ushijima replies. And wow, he even made Bokuto’s name sound important and serious.

Bokuto shivers and takes a step forward. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

Kageyama, who was sitting on the bench at the end, spits out his sports drink.

Hoshiumi shoots up like a rocket, “No way! No waaaaaaaaay!”

Ushijima blinks, “Out where?”

“On a date, of course.” Bokuto’s never been shy. He’s never been fearful. Not really. There was nothing wrong with putting yourself out there. The worst thing Ushijima can say is no. Before, when he was younger, Bokuto would be utterly devastated from the rejection. Now though, if Ushijima were to say no he’d take it in stride and at least try for a friendship, if anything.

What he doesn’t expect, though it’s not a bad thing, is Ushijima’s second blink followed by, “Why?”

Bokuto shrugs, “I liked seeing you take that volleyball to the face. That was really cool and kinda hot. So I figured I’d ask ya out on a date! Cause I received a ball with my chest before and I know how that feels!”

Ushijima nods as if that makes sense (it does, because Bokuto knows Ushijima gets what he meant by that. The power and hunger to keep the ball in play no matter what had to be done to do so). He doesn’t say anything after that and for a minute Bokuto wonders if the rejection is coming now. But then Ushijima sticks out his hand in front of Bokuto and goes:

“Alright.”

And Bokuto gets utter chills as he grabs his hands and shakes it for all its worth.

“It’s a date! I’ll text ya the details—wait, I need your phone number. Then I’ll text you the details.”

“I have to tell Sachiro about this…” Hoshiumi makes a beeline for his phone.

Kageyama has some gatorade on the side of his mouth as he says, “Is… is nearly getting a concussion attractive?”

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Kageyama.

Thanks to Akaashi, Bokuto’s dressed decently for his date.

“No, those colors don’t match.”

“But this is my favorite shirt and pants!”

“Okay but they can be worn separately, not together. Wear that green shirt. The one you bought for Konoha’s party.”

“Oh yeah! The green shirt! That one with these black pants?”

“That works.”

“Kaashi you’re the best!”

So now, he’s standing at the planned meeting spot for Ushijima to arrive. He’s about fifteen minutes early but that’s okay because then he got the joy of seeing Ushijima from the crowd, spotting him, and getting to wave him over and everything. Bokuto hums to himself as he waits. Excitement barely being able to describe the giddiness through his system. It’s equal parts nerves but not bad nerves. And equal parts serotonin from the spontaneity of it all.

After they exchanged numbers two weeks ago they texted everyday. Ushijima is a really good texter! Bokuto likes how thoughtful Ushijima is with responses. Bokuto knows he has a lot to say and he can take over a conversation pretty easily, sometimes without even realizing it. But Ushijima doesn’t make him feel bad for taking up space. For talking and talking, even when a million things hit his brain at once. Ushijima notices all the million of things and responds to them in earnest.

It’s nice. It’s a warm feeling. A fuzzy sun in the solar plexus of Bokuto’s chest that stretches out it’s lazy sun rays all across Bokuto’s body.

When he spots Ushijima in the crowd, he doesn’t hold back his yell.

“USHIWAKA! HERE!”

Ushijima looks left and right before his gaze lands on Bokuto and Bokuto feels a zap.

The crowd looks as Ushijima strides over to him. Not wearing a cap or anything. A few people notice him and ask him to take a picture or try to say hi. He stops. Freezes. Makes eye contact with Bokuto and Bokuto makes a move.

“Hey everyone! Yes, it’s Ushijima but it’s also me, Bokuto! We’re about to hang out and we have lunch reservations. Can we quickly take pictures and maybe another time we can chat and talk?” He smiles, the one smile Akaashi said could charm a mass murderer to put down their weapon. Which was kind of a cool superpower now that Bokuto thought about it but he would rather take a mass murderer out with his fists than his smile…

That appeases the crowd. They take a few pictures. Sign a kid’s volleyball (which Ushijima was happy to do, Bokuto peeps from the side as Ushijima goes “You like volleyball?” and the kid responds, “Yeah! Watching you made me love it!” and it’s the tiniest smile Bokuto’s seen but gosh the warmth it creates in his chest. Atsumu would say he’s ‘down bad’ and perhaps he is! But it’s not so bad to be so… down? He’ll work that out later) and then, after both of them got lost on the way to their destination, finally reached their destination.

“So this cafe is cool cause it’s run by one of my buddies I met once when I was on a run.” Bokuto explains ripping apart his chopsticks so he can dig into his bowl of ramen. “Right ok so I was running and I was super hungry because I forgot to eat before my run and this guy goes ‘Oh you’re hungry? You like ramen?’ And I said ‘Literally ramen is one of my fifty favorite bowls of things to eat that comes in a bowl’ and he goes ‘Well you’re in for a good bowl then’ and bam,” Bokuto takes a long slurp of thick, soaked noodles. They’re just as warm and delicious and soothing as they were the first time he tried this place’s ramen, “I’m here like almost once a week now.”

Ushijima takes his chopsticks apart slowly. He is much more, hm, not delicate? More… controlled? Yeah! Controlled! With his movements. While Bokuto is all in, engines raring, full steam ahead with devouring, Ushijima takes his time. He savors his noodles. And Bokuto leans forward, eyes wide, blinking owlishly as he waits for his reaction.

Ushijima swallows his noodles and stares back at Bokuto for several seconds.

“Is it good?” Bokuto asks because he hates silences.

Ushijima nods, “It’s good.”

Bokuto fist pumps the air, “Yes! Ah, I’m so glad you like it! Cause if you didn’t, I’d be sad.”

“Why would you be sad?”

“Cause, ya know,” he takes another round of noodles and slurps it for good measure. “When you’re showing the person you like something you like, you want them to like it too. Or you hope that they like it. So they can experience the same joy you feel about that thing. And then it’s kinda like we’re connected now. Like this noodle connects us,” Bokuto holds up a lone noodle in between his chopsticks and then slooooooooops it into his mouth.

Ushijima looks like he’s taking apart all of Bokuto’s words. Carefully considering their meaning, their methods, and their madness. Finally, he goes. “You like me.”

It’s not a question.

Bokuto grins, “I do!”

“We’ve barely spoken.”

“Yeah that’s what Omi-kun said too when I asked if you were single.” He catches the way Ushijima’s eyes rise slightly at that. And he keeps going because Bokuto Koutarou has never had anything to lose before, and he certainly wouldn’t have it today. “But I mean, like I said. You received that ball with your forehead Ushiwaka.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know!” Bokuto laughs and he says, “Wait. Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows grow this adorable wrinkle between them. “You didn’t have to clarify.”

“I know but like, I also just wanted to let you know my laugh isn’t making fun of you because I feel like giving the situation, it may come off that way! So I wanted to make sure you knew. Because I would like that.” Now he’s rambling, and he knows that. But he hopes Ushijima understands what he’s trying to say. It’s such a small thing, but Bokuto’s known the cruelty of seemingly innocent gestures that were more devilish than angelic.

After a while, Ushijima’s crinkle goes away. He nods, slowly, and he says. “I appreciate the consideration.”

Bokuto’s lips pull into a smile, bright and a little crooked.

“So yes, I like you.” Bokuto continues. “Even though we’ve barely spoken. And even though it all came from me seeing you receive that ball to your head. But I also decided we should go on a date, cause I’m interested in you. And I wanna get to know ya more.”

“I’m not interesting.”

“That’s not true!” Bokuto leans forward. “You were the number one ace in Miyagi Prefecture and ranked among the country's top three aces! That’s so epic!” Bokuto leans forward, folding his arms across his chest. “I used to be up there too with ya’ll but I was really inconsistent so I couldn’t stay there permanently.”

Ushijima nods, “I remember watching a few of your games. Your emotions get the better of you.”

“That they did! Or well, they still do.” Ushijima’s bluntness does not add salt to wounds. Rather, it’s refreshing. Bokuto enjoys the bluntness. Because it’s not wrong. Bokuto’s emotions had gotten the better of him when he was younger. He was better at managing them now. At learning how to let himself feel but not get overwhelmed. What was the word for it… coping! “But not so much anymore. Cause I realized I’m just an ace, ya know?”

“Just an ace,” Ushijima repeats. Bokuto waits to see if he’ll get that too. If he’ll understand what Bokuto means because not many people can understand it. “You’ll deliver no matter what.” It's a sweet sigh of relief, the feeling of a cold shower after a hot day, and Bokuto nods vigorously.

“Yeah! Yeah! Exactly!”

They eat some more and Bokuto asks about California a bit more. Ushijima mentions how California was surprising. He ran into Iwaizumi Hajime and he got to meet with his father. How California was a weird place, but not in a bad way.

“Did you get to play volleyball a lot?”

“Yes.”

“That’s awesome. I’ve always wanted to go to the states. Would you go back?”

“I would.”

“Oh, maybe we could go together! Ah, wait.” Bokuto raises a hand. “That’s forward. I’m sorry. This is literally just our first date.”

“We can go.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops, “What? Really? Wait,” Bokuto feels like he needs to connect some dots. “Ushiwaka, can I ask a question?”

Ushijima frowns, “You never stopped to ask a question before. Why ask now?”

“Cause I just wanna clarify! You know, when I say I like ya—it’s cause I wanna like, date ya. Or see if you’d be down for dating. Or like, you know. Potentially being boyfriends?”

“I see.”

“Oh thank God. Wait, you see what?”

“I was under the impression you wanted to hang out.”

“I mean, yes! But also, not just hang out. Like, we would be hanging out but maybe sometimes hold hands?”

“How are you sure that after this you would want to hang out with me more? Or at all. I’m not…” Ushijima pauses, as if to consider what to say next, “like you.”

“Duh,” Bokuto says. “I don’t want you to be. The dates are so we can get to know each other. Cause we don’t. And that’s why I ask ya a bunch of questions! Cause I’m interested in ya. I can also be more blunt if you’d like.”

“Blunt would be good.”

“Okay well I think you’re incredibly handsome. Like, when I saw you today my heart raced cause you looked really good. The red varsity jacket over the green v-neck?” Bokuto nods towards Ushijima’s outfit and grins, “it’s a really good look. You’re really cute.”

Bokuto waits for Ushijima’s reaction. To see if he’s said too much or just enough. He watches as Ushijima’s cheeks color red and his ears catch on fire. He coughs, and covers his mouth with his hand. Eyes darting to the side, before coming back to meet Bokuto. He coughs again. He lowers his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m not sure how else to respond.” Another moment, “You’re bluntness is. Yes.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto feels incredibly pleased with himself. He happily finishes his bowl of ramen and then asks for the drink menu so they can figure out what they'd want. “Do you drink?” He asks as the waiter comes by with their menus.

“Occasionally.”

“Awesome. Show me what you like to drink! We can order that.”

“I’m not really particular.”

“That’s okay. You can choose whichever one speaks to you. I’ll enjoy anything you get us.”

Ushijima fixes Bokuto with a look, “Bokuto Koutarou.”

“That’s me.”

“You’re very strange.”

Bokuto’s smile ticks at the ends, “So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry. That’s. Not in a bad way. In a good way. Like your bluntness.”

“Thank you,” and the solar flare in his chest grows a little warmer as the waiter comes back and they put in their drink orders.

It’s a good night after that.

“You really went on a date with him?”

Bokuto finishes his last rep with an exhale. Sweat’s on his brow as he stares at Kiyoomi in front of him. They’re at the gym on their day off. Conditioning and working out so they could be ready for practice tomorrow.

Bokuto gets up so Kiyoomi can take his spot and says, “Yup. I know you’re dying to hear the details.”

“I’d rather be dead than hear the details.”

“Oh Omi-kun! That was a good way with my words!” Bokuto claps and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes so far back into his skull Bokuto’s afraid they’ll get stuck there. “I mean, I don’t have to share if you don’t wanna hear but…” Bokuto sighs, pretending to be forlorn. Looking off towards the distance as if he’s waiting for his lover to come back home. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell Kaashi about it cause he’s been busy with work and I really would like to talk about it…”

Kiyoomi looks like he’d rather eat a rotten onigiri ball than hear about Bokuto’s love life but then, because underneath all his grouch Kiyoomi’s a really nice dude (or well, maybe nice is too strong a word… let’s say he’s capable of human decency on a good day) Kiyoomi goes, “You have until I finish my reps to talk about it.”

Bokuto takes the bone like a dog, “Okay so the date was great!” He starts and then he goes on about how Ushijima is really cool and thoughtful and their conversation was never boring or had an awkward tilt and that he feels like they had a really good first date.

“Do you wanna know if we kissed?” Bokuto waggles his eyebrow.

Kiyoomi grunts as he goes through a rep, “No.”

“Well that’s good ‘cause we didn’t! But,” Bokuto looks at the palm of his right hand as if it’s a rare jewel. “We did hold hands. I’m a shy guy you know, Omi-kun. I can’t just kiss on the first date… and I don’t think Ushiwaka woulda been comfy with that either!”

Kiyoomi grunts again, “Such a gentleman you are.”

Bokuto chuckles, “I know. I’m great. Anyways!” He knows he’s got only about less than a minute to finish his story before Kiyoomi tunes him out. “We’re going on a second date next week. The Adlers have a few away games and that’s gonna make him busy but we’re gonna text and call and stuff while he’s away! And then do a virtual movie night which is fun cause we both have the same taste in movies!”

“What a surprise.”

“I know! That’s what I said!”

Kiyoomi finishes his set and that signals Bokuto about his time running out. Which was fine and good because he said all he wanted to say. Kiyoomi pants, catching his breath and running a hand through his hair. He fixes Bokuto with a look that Bokuto assumes is to figure out whether or not he’ll say something grouchy or something moderately decent.

“You know. I didn’t think you two would get on so well. I’m glad it seems to be working better than anticipated.”

“... Omi-kun,” Bokuto sniffles, feeling tears in his eyes. Kiyoomi twists his face up in disgust and bolts upright from the machine.

“No. No tears.” He starts power walking through the gym and Bokuto is right on his heels with happy tears down his face and his arms out wide.

“Omi-kun, you’re the best!! Omi-kun!”

“GO AWAY BOKUTO-SAN!”

“... And then I told Kaashi he should ask out Osamu because I’ve seen Osamu checking out Kaashi when he thinks it’s not noticeable but jokes on him, I totally see it.”

“You have a good eye.”

“I do! And then Kaashi was like super worried. And when he worries he likes to overthink the craziest scenarios like: ‘What if I ask out Miya-san and a meteorite falls onto the shop’?”

“I don’t think meteorites eat rice balls.”

Bokuto throws his head back with laughter, rolling onto his back on the bed with his phone held high above so he could see Ushijima. He laughs so hard he’s sure his neighbors can hear. But he doesn’t care. Because Ushijima was so fucking funny.

He wipes the tears from his eyes, staring at Ushijima’s confused look at the screen. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at ya. I was laughing because you’re right, meteorites wouldn’t like rice balls a bit I think.”

“So he has nothing to worry about,” is Ushijima’s sound conclusion.

“Exactly! I’ll let Kaashi know you think so too and tell him to go for it.” Bokuto turns onto his side, so he can hold the phone a little closer. So he can feel like he’s tucked into bed with Ushijima by his side. “Hey, Ushiwaka,” he says with a yawn.

“Are you getting tired?” Ushijima asks, concern laced at the ends of his words. “It’s late. We can call again tomorrow.”

“Nuh uh. Not yet,” Bokuto shakes his head. “Just wanted to say it’s nice talking to you and stuff… getting to know ya… and stuff. Are you also enjoying this? What we’re doing?”

“Does it look like I’m not?” Ushijima’s brows wrinkle in the way Bokuto was learning meant Ushijima was worried something he said or did had come across negatively. He’s quick to reassure, because he gets that fear. He understands that worry. And he hates having to deal with it himself. He’d never want anyone else to have to feel that way because of him, especially Ushijima.

“No no, not at all. I just wanted to know how you were feeling as all! And I wanna hear if you’re liking this too.” For purely selfish reasons. Because while Bokuto is a simple creature, he also craves the satisfaction of reciprocation. Of knowing this is worth it, and that he is not alone in this feeling of a crater being scraped in his heart that’s shaped like Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Ushijima’s crinkle disappears. There’s some shuffling and Bokuto smiles as he sees Ushijima is also laying on his side, facing Bokuto. It feels like they’re both in the same bed, facing one another. So close their knees touch. So close their breaths could intermingle. Close enough to feel right.

“Yes,” comes Ushijima’s quiet confessions. “I’m enjoying this as well. Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for answering, Ushiwaka,” and the solar flare grows. It’s such a simple answer. It’s such a simple response. But Bokuto’s a simple man. Pleased by the simplicity of Ushijima’s earnestness and the sincerity of his words. He yawns again, “Alright. I think with that, I can sleep soundly tonight! We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes,” Ushijima says, and then he goes, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Bokuto’s near tears, “Yes! Same! Same!” He squeezes his phone so tight it might burst. If his heart doesn’t do so first. “Okay. Okay that was so cute. You are so cute. Good night, Ushiwaka! Talk to you tomorrow!”

“Goodnight, Bokuto Koutarou.”

The call ends and Bokuto’s in darkness. He brings his phone to his lips and he feels the heat on his cheeks. The rush under his skin.

He’s a simple man. But that’s not such a bad thing—not at all.

#my fics #haikyuu fic #bokuto/ushijima #bokuto koutarou #ushijima wakatoshi #hq fic #hq fanfic

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thewhumperinwhite · 5 years ago

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WKW Flashback: Little Bird (Part Two)

Previous: Teaser 1 / Teaser 2 / Presentable / The Lion’s Mane / To Bid You All Welcome: Part One / Part 2 / Part 3 / A Single Bed, A Door With No Lock / Sword Of My Fathers / Little Bird Part One

TW for: knifeplay, torture, violence against a minor, drugging/poisoning, carved marks, target practice, gaslighting, dehumanizing language.

@faewhump @procrastinatingsab (sorry I forgot to tag you last time by the way!! I have an irredeemably bad memory. read part one first!)

----

Thorne, as far as Raven is concerned, has exactly two redeeming qualities: he is funny, and he is easy to find.

The sound of crashing equipment in the training room can only be the sound of an untrained dog; if any of the Falconers trained as loudly or clumsily as that, the others would fall upon them and eat them alive.

Raven gives herself five minutes before the fun starts to watch Thorne practicing his footwork, swearing at himself in a whisper every time the tip of his practice foil wavers, before she lets out any of the giggles building in her throat.

“I could fit a herd of ponies through the gaps in your stance, little wolf,” she says, when he’s spun wildly to face her laughter, dropping the foil with a clang. “Perhaps you should stick to making sparks in your fingers, or whatever else it is you do all day.”

Thorne flushes— again— and snaps to a clumsy attention. “R-Raven! I— that is— did you need the training room?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Wolfie,” Raven says, sighing dramatically as she picks her way over to the equipment cupboard. “I’ve been forbidden to teach you anything.” She looks at him out of the corner of your eyes. “He says I play too rough.” The cupboard is beside a waist-high shelf, and she hops up to sit on it, resting her chin on her hand and her hand on her knee. “He doesn’t think you’re strong enough.”

Thorne absorbs those words like a blow, hunching in on himself, and Raven can actually see his little fangs sink into his bottom lip. Then he takes in a deep breath like he needs to reinflate himself. “I am,” he says, trying for defiant and coming out desperate. “I— I am strong enough.” He balls up his hands into fists at the ends of his too-long arms, glaring down at the ground. “I know I can’t— I can’t lift heavy weapons and my footwork isn’t fast enough and I’m not picking up magic like Master thought I would, but— but I know I can do this if you teach me.” At the end there he looks up at her, gold eyes wide.

Raven laughs once. “My knives are you last resort, eh? Here I was about to be flattered to be asked, but this just the last trick you haven’t tried, isn’t it?”

Thorne flushes and shakes his head quickly. “No, I— No! I actually really...” He looks away, red-faced. “I really... admire it,” he says, with quiet embarrassed sincerity. “I’d be really honored if you would teach me, L— Lady Raven.”

Raven watches him, holding back her smile, as he bows his head and waits for her answer.

Perhaps the little wolf won’t be so bad to have around, after all.

“Oh, alright,” she says, hopping down from the shelf and pulling the equipment cupboard open. “Since you’ve begged so prettily.”

Thorne’s head darts up, his mouth open and his little fangs visible. “Really? You’ll teach me?”

“Spit spot, Wolfie, don’t make me change my mind,” she says, and he jumps to attention, like she knew he would. “Stand over there, won’t you,” she says, nodding to the far wall, “so we’ll know how far we are apart.”

Thorne scrambles to obey. Raven smiles broadly, rolling open the satin bag where she keeps her array of blades, from small and wicked to large and serrated. Raven hasn’t needed to train in years. Needless to say, she does not carry blunted blades.

“Now, little Wolf,” she says, flicking the tip of a blade unnecessarily with her finger, so he will know how sharp it is. “Watch my stance, won’t you?”

“Wh-what?” Thorne says; she gives him enough time for his yellow eyes to go very round. “W-wait. Wait, I—”

The knife buries itself in the knife beside Thorne’s head. There is an even three inches between Thorne’s cheek and where the handle juts from the wall, quivering.

Thorne turns his head to stare at it, wide-eyed. “R— Raven,” he says. “I— I don’t want—”

“Wolfie,” Raven says, and a second knife thunks into the softwood next to his moving arm. Then she relaxes out of her throwing posture and softens her voice, smiling at him. “Do you really think Morden would have me in his club if didn’t hit what I was aiming at?” He still looks poised to run, so she adds a sweet-voiced, “I won’t hurt you, little Wolf.”

Thorne looks at her with wide, guileless golden eyes, and stays where he is.

“Very good,” Raven says warmly. “This is your first lesson: choosing your materials.” She bends to pick up three small curved blades, shaped to sit comfortably between her fingers. “It depends on your mood, you see,” she says mildly, giving the tips each a little flick with her opposite finger. “Do I want time to play?” She flicks her wrist, and the blades thunk into a line directly above Thorne’s head, showering him in sawdust. “Or am I in a hurry?” The sixth blade is one of the large ones, like a miniature harpoon, and when Thorne sees it coming he makes a trapped-animal noise and drops to shield his face with his arms; the knife hits where the tip of his left pointed ear should have been, and Raven huffs.

“Honestly,” she says impatiently. “Jerk around like that and I really will hit you, Wolfie.”

Thorne straightens quickly, breathing hard but still embarrassed to have been caught flinching, and he still doesn’t run from her. Raven’s smile widens.

“Then, of course,” she says, her voice still light and casual, “there are blades for special occasions.”

Raven throws the seventh blade exactly like the sixth, straight-armed, shooting from the shoulder, and this time Thorne doesn’t move.

His scream when it sinks into his shoulder is fuller than she expects, not a tinny child-scream, and she immediately knows she needs to hear another.

“Like that one,” she says, watching Thorne fall to his knees, clutching his shoulder, his mouth open, not in anger but in surprised offended hurt.

“You— you hit me!” he says, clutching at the blade but making no attempt to pull it out. “You said— you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yes, Wolfie, sometimes grown-ups lie,” she says on her way over to him. “Let’s call that your real first lesson.”

It’s really in there quite deep. She plants her foot on his collarbone for enough leverage to pull it out, and he screams again, just like she hoped he would.

“If you were hoping for a bonding experience, it’s really going better than I thought it would, Wolfie,” she says, holding the blade up so the blood catches the torchlight. She’d been hoping it would be some funny color, since he isn’t human, but it’s only normal red. Now that she’s actually having fun, her voice grows warm for real. “You really scream very prettily.”

Thorne gasps, clutching at his shoulder, and scrambles to his feet; he stumbles into her to push her away and she lets him, surprised.

“You— you meant to do that,” he says, apparently realizing it in real time; Raven can’t help shaking her head and smiling at him. “I’m—” He backs toward the door. “I’ll— tell my master—”

When he turns away, she says, “I thought you said you were strong, little wolf,” and he grinds to a stop, staggering—and then he crumples to the floor with a surprised gasp.

“There it is,” Raven says. “Your faery blood must be good for something; I’ve never seen it take so long.”

“I’m,” she hears him say, his voice rising in panic, “I can’t— why can’t I—” She ignores him for long enough to pull each of her throwing knives out of the wall before she saunters over. He’s lying in an unnatural position, half on his side and half on his belly, like a doll dropped by a careless child. Raven nudges him in the side with the toe of her shoe. “You— what did you—”

“Well obviously I’ve given you poison,” she says impatiently. “Gods you’re stupid. It’s fucking exhausting.” Raven squats next to Thorne, balancing carefully on her heels, and turns his face toward her a bit, squeezing his pointed chin between her thumb and forefinger. “I hope Morden gets tired of you soon. I’m tired of having a wolf in our nest.”

To Raven’s genuine surprise, Thorne has exactly the strength left to dart his chin down and sink his sharpened teeth into her hand.

“Fuck!” She draws back. “Fucking horrible little beast—”

“Don’t call me that!” Thorne cries, tearfully, and Raven stops the hand she had been raising to strike him with.

“That’s right,” she said slowly, tipping her head to look with curiosity at his wet eyes and shame-reddened cheeks. “You don’t like that, do you?” she says thoughtfully. “You don’t want to be a wolf.” Then she laughs, delighted; it’s a brilliant little joke. “God, you wish he’d given you a bird name, don’t you? You want to be part of the team! You want to be a Falconer!” Raven leans down, resting her chin on her fist and meeting Thorne’s furious yellow eyes. “Well, you’re not a bird, are you, poor little thing? And you’re not a wolf, either. You’re not even a dog. You’re just a scared little boy with nowhere to go, and no one who misses him.” She shakes her head, though she can’t quite keep a straight face. “It’s very sad, really.” Then she sits up, excited. “Perhaps I should help you!” she says, and she grabs a fistful of Thorne’s silver hair to drop him more fully onto his stomach. “If you want so badly to be a bird, you need a set of wings!”

Thorne flails slightly— it’s more than he should be able to, but not nearly enough to worry about; Raven swings a leg over him and sits on his knees.

“No,” Thorne whispers, his voice muffled by the dirt floor of the training room. “N-n-n— you, you can’t—”

Raven taps the hilt of her knife thoughtfully against her chin. “Now, I should think. What haven’t we used? They all have different kinds of wings, you know.” Before she decides, Raven picks a different, larger blade, and splits the back seam of Thorne’s shirt easily down to the waist, pulling it open to expose his shoulder blades. She wouldn’t mind leaving it, but Morden really will be angry if she lets him get an infection from cloth in a wound, probably. Thorne makes a very satisfying sound in his throat when she pulls the fabric open, a high petrified whine in the back of his throat. “I know,” she says with immense satisfaction. “You’re a swallow, aren’t you? Let’s see.” She braces one hand against the back of his head, pressing the side of his face into the dust. “Here’s one wing—” She sinks just the tip of the tiny blade into the skin between his shoulder blades, and draws a great swooping curve over and down toward his waist. Thorne’s whine rises into a high keening cry and Raven feels a swell of genuine affection for him. “And here’s the other w—”

“RAVEN.”

The tip of Raven’s blade is halfway down Thorne’s shoulder blade when the wall of magic sends her flying sideways into the wall, and it tears a line out to his arm before it clatters to the floor.

Morden enters the room with wings of his own, hovering huge over his shoulders as twin clouds of foggy mist shot through with sparks. He drops immediately to his knees beside Thorne, gathering the boy’s limp body into his arms, taking care to avoid his bloody back and making soft soothing noises. When he’s gathered the boy carefully in, Thorne’s face hidden against his chest, he looks over at Raven over the top of Thorne’s head and gives her an annoyed pout.

Raven is struggling back up to her feet against the wall, still; Morden’s magic really knocked the wind out of her, but she raises her head enough to drop him an exaggerated wink.

——

The crackle of magic at his back, searing against the cuts, then bandages. Grimly, “It will scar. Perhaps next time you will remember—”

“You really must—”

“—is very dangerous. Promise me you won’t antagonize—”

“—exactly did you expect? My Falconers are not a—”

Softening. A cold hand cupping his cheek.

“No, darling, of course I could never get tired of you.”

——

Raven is on stroke eighty-seven when she sees Morden appear over her reflection’s shoulder, her hair shining, and she doesn’t pause, smiling at herself in the mirror.

“And?” she says, a touch smug.

Morden narrows his eyes at her, then rolls his eyes and gestures dismissively with a gloved hand. “All right, all right,” he says. “It was a good idea.”

“Happy to be of service, boss,” Raven says, running the brush through her hair. Ninety-three, now. Almost done.

“Yes, yes, don’t be so insufferable,” Morden says ruefully, shaking his head. “And Raven?”

Raven sets the brush down, turns to look at him, meeting his black eyes.

“Next time, ask first,” Morden says.

#winter king's ward #whump #original whump #child abuse #knife play #used as target practice #poisoned #drugged #immobilized #gaslighting tw #knives tw

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regencyresource · 6 years ago

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( * &. ━ list of slang words from the 1920′s

presenting a long list of slang terms from the “roaring twenties" ! the age of mobsters and jazz ! the time of longing after married women and staring into green-lights to include in your literary ventures ! i claim no ownership for this list, it was sourced HERE.

Alderman: A man's pot-belly

Ameche: Telephone

Ankle: (n) Woman; (v) To walk

Ab-so-lute-ly: Affirmative, yes

Absent treatment: Dancing with a timid partner

Air tight: Very attractive

Airedale: An unattractive man

Alarm clock: A chaperone

All wet: Incorrect

And how!: I strongly agree!

Applesauce: Flattery, nonsense, i.e.. "Aw, applesauce!"

Attaboy!: Well done!; also, Attagirl!

Babe: Woman

Baby: A person, can be said to either a man or a woman

Bangtails: Racehorses

Barber: Talk

Be on the nut: To be broke

Bean-shooter: Gun

Beef: Problem

Bee's Knees: An extraordinary person, thing or idea

Beezer: Nose

Behind the eight ball: In a difficult position, in a tight spot

Bent Cars: Stolen cars

Big Cheese, Big Shot: The boss, someone of importance and influence

Big House: Jail

Big One: Death

Big Sleep: Death

Bim: Woman

Bindle: The bundle in which a hobo carries all his worldly possessions

Bindle punk or bindle stiff: Chronic wanderers, migratory harvest workers, and lumber jacks

Bing: Jailhouse talk for solitary confinement

Bird: Man

Bit: Prison sentence

Blip off: To kill

Blow: Leave

Blow one down: Kill someone

Blower: Telephone

Bluenose: A prude

Bo: Pal, buster, fellow

Boiler: Car

Boob: Dumb guy

Boozehound: Drunkard

Bop: To kill

Box: A safe or a bar

Box job: A safecracking

Brace (somebody): Grab, shake up

Bracelets: Handcuffs

Break it up: Stop that, quit the nonsense

Breeze: To leave, breeze off: get lost

Broad: Woman

Bruno: Tough guy, enforcer

Bucket: Car

Bulge, The: The advantage

Bulls: Plainclothes railroad cops; uniformed police; prison guards

Bum's rush, To get the: To be kicked out

Bump: Kill

Bump Gums: To talk about nothing worthwhile

Bump off: Kill; also, bump-off: a killing

Burn powder: Fire a gun

Bus: Big car

Butter-and-egg-man: The money man, the man with the bankroll, a yokel who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs

Button: Face, nose, end of jaw

Button man: Professional killer

Buttons: Police

Butts: Cigarettes

Buzz: Looks person up, comes to persons door

Buzzer: Policeman's badge

C: $100, a pair of Cs = $200

Cabbage: Money

Caboose: Jail

Call copper: Inform the police

Can: Jail, Car

Can house: Bordello

Can-opener: Safecracker who opens cheap safes

Canary: Woman singer

Carry a Torch: Suffering from an unrequited love

Case dough: Nest egg

Cat: Man

Cat's Meow: Something splendid or stylish

Cat's Pajamas: Term of endearment as in "I think you are really really cool"

Century: $100

Cheaters: Sunglasses

Cheese it: Put things away, hide

Chew: Eat

Chicago lightning: Gunfire

Chicago overcoat: Coffin

Chick: Woman

Chilled off: Killed

Chin: Conversation; chinning: talking

Chin music: Punch on the jaw

Chinese squeeze: Grafting by skimming profits off the top

Chippy: Woman of easy virtue

Chisel: To swindle or cheat

Chiv: Knife, "a stabbing or cutting weapon"

Chopper squad: Men with machine guns

Chump: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Clammed: Close-mouthed (clammed up)

Clean sneak: An escape with no clues left behind

Clip joint: In some cases, a nightclub where the prices are high and the patrons are fleeced

Clipped: Shot

Close your head: Shut up

Clout: Shoplifter

Clubhouse: Police station

Con: Confidence game, swindle

Conk: Head

Cool: To knock out

Cooler: Jail

Cop: Detective, even a private one

Copped, to be: Grabbed by the cops

Copper: Policeman

Corn: Bourbon ("corn liquor")

Crab: Figure out

Crate: Car

Croak: To kill

Croaker: Doctor

Crush: An infatuation

Crushed out: Escaped (from jail)

Cut down: Killed

Daisy: None too masculine

Dame: Woman

Dance: To be hanged

Dangle: Leave, get lost

Daylight, as in "fill him with daylight": Put a hole in, by shooting or stabbing

Deck, as in "deck of Luckies": Pack of cigarettes

Derrick: Shoplifter

Dib: Share (of the proceeds)

Dick: Detective (usually qualified with "private" if not a policeman)

Dingus: Thing

Dip: Pickpocket

Dip the bill: Have a drink

Dish: Pretty woman

Dive: A low-down, cheap sort of place

Dizzy with a dame, To be: To be deeply in love with a woman

Do the dance: To be hanged

Dogs: Feet

Dope fiend: Drug addict

Dope peddler: Drug dealer

Dough: Money

Drift: Go, leave

Drill: Shoot

Drop a dime: Make a phone call, sometimes meaning to the police to inform on someone

Droppers: Hired killers

Drum: Speakeasy

Dry-gulch: Knock out, hit on head after ambushing

Duck soup: Easy, a piece of cake

Dummerer: Someone who pretends to be deaf and/or dumb to appear a more deserving beggar

Dump: Roadhouse, club; or, more generally, any place

Dust out: Leave, depart

Egg: Man

Electric cure: Electrocution

Elephant ears: Police

Fade: Go away, get lost

Fakeloo artist: Con man

Fella: A man

Fin: $5 bill

Finder: Finger man

Finger, Put the finger on: Identify

Flaming Youth: Male counterpart to a flapper

Flapper: A stylish, brash young woman with short skirts and shorter hair

Flat Tire: A dull-witted or disappointing date

Flattie: Flatfoot, cop

Flimflam: Swindle

Flippers: Hands

Flivver: A Ford automobile

Flogger: Overcoat

Flop: Go to bed or fallen through, not worked out

Flophouse: A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms

Fog: To shoot

Frail: Woman

Frau: Wife

Fry: To be electrocuted

Fuzz: Police

Gal: Woman

Gams: A Woman’s Legs

Gasper: Cigarette

Gat: Gun

Get Sore: Get mad

Getaway sticks: Legs

Giggle juice: Liquor

Giggle Water: Liquor

Gin mill: Bar

Glad rags: Fancy clothes

Glaum: Steal

Goofy: Crazy

Goog: Black eye

Goon: Thug

Gooseberry lay: Stealing clothes from a clothesline

Gowed-up: On dope, high

Grab (a little) air: Put your hands up

Graft: Con jobs or cut of the take

Grand: $1000

Grift: Confidence game, swindle

Grifter: Con man

Grilled: Questioned

Gumshoe: Detective

Gumshoeing: Detective work

Gun for: Look for, be after

Guns: Pickpockets, Hoodlums

Guy: A man

Hack: Taxi

Half, a: 50 cents

Hard: Tough

Harlem Sunset: Some sort fatal injury caused by knife

Hash House: A cheap restaurant

Hatchet men: Killers, gunmen

Have the Bees: To be rich

Head doctors: Psychiatrists

Heap: Car

Heat: Police

Heater: Gun

Heebie-Jeebies: The jitters

Heeled: Carrying a gun

High-Hat: To snub

High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge

Highbinders: Corrupt politician or functionary

Hinky: Suspicious

Hitting the pipe: Smoking opium

Hitting on all eight: In good shape, going well

Hock shop: Pawnshop

Hogs: Engines

Hombre: Man, fellow

Hooch: Liquor

Hood: Criminal

Hoofer: Dancer

Hoosegow: Jail

Horn: Telephone

Hot: Stolen

Hotsy-Totsy: Pleasing

House dick: House/hotel detective

House peeper: House/hotel detective

Hype: Shortchange artist

Ice : Diamonds

Ing-bing, as in to throw an: A fit

Iron: A car

Jack: Money

Jalopy: An old car

Jam: Trouble, a tight spot

Jane: A woman

Java: Coffee

Jaw: Talk

Jerking a nod: Nodding

Jingle-brained: Addled

Jobbie: Man

Joe: Coffee, as in "a cup of joe"

Johns: Police

Johnson brother: Criminal

Joint: Place, as in "my joint"

Juice: Interest on a loanshark's loan

Jug: Jail

Jump, The: A hanging

Kale: Money

Keen: Attractive or appealing

Kick off: Die

Kiss: To punch

Kisser: Mouth

Kitten: Woman

Knock off: Kill

Lammed off: Ran away, escaped

Large: $1,000; twenty large would be $20,000

Law, the: The police

Lead, "fill ya full of lead": the term used for bullets

Lead poisoning: To be shot

Lettuce: Folding money

Lid: Hat

Line: Insincere flattery

Lip: (Criminal) lawyer

Looker: Pretty woman

Look-out: Outside man

Lousy with: To have lots of

Mac: A man

Made: Recognized

Map: Face

Marbles: Pearls

Mark: Sucker, victim of swindle or fixed game

Maroon: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Meat wagon: Ambulance

Mickey Finn: A drink drugged with knock-out drops

Mill: Typewriter

Mitt: Hand

Mob: Gang (not necessarily Mafia)

Mohaska: Gun

Moll: Girlfriend

Monicker: Name

Mouthpiece: Lawyer

Mugs: Men (especially refers to dumb ones)

Nailed: Caught by the police

Nevada gas: Cyanide

Newshawk: Reporter

Newsie: Newspaper vendor

Nibble one: To have a drink

Nicked: Stole

Nippers: Handcuffs

Noodle: Head

Number: A person

Off the track: Said about a person who becomes insanely violent

Op: Detective

Orphan paper: Bad checks

Out on the roof: To drink a lot, to be drunk

Oyster fruit: Pearls

Packing Heat: Carrying a gun

Pal: A man

Palooka: Man, probably not very smart

Pan: Face

Paste: Punch

Patsy: Person who is set up; fool, chump

Paw: Hand

Peaching: Informing

Peeper: Detective

Peepers: Eyes

Pen: Penitentiary, jail

Peterman: Safecracker who uses nitroglycerin

Piece: Gun

Pigeon: Stool-pigeon

Pinch: An arrest, capture

Pins: Legs

Pipe: See or notice

Pipes: Throat

Plant: Someone on the scene but in hiding, Bury

Plug: Shoot

Plugs: People

Poke: Bankroll, stake

Pooped: Killed

Pop: Kill

Pro skirt: Prostitute

Puffing: Mugging

Pug: Pugilist, boxer

Pump: Heart

Pump metal: Shoot bullets

Punk: Hood, thug

Pushover: A person easily convinced of something

Puss: Face

Put down: Drink

Put the screws on: Question, get tough with

Rags: Clothes

Ranked: Observed, watched, given the once-over

Rap: Criminal charge

Rappers: Fakes, set-ups

Rat: Inform

Rate: To be good, to count for something

Rats and mice: Dice, i.e. craps

Rattler: Train

Red-light: To eject from a car or train

Redhot: Some sort of criminal

Reefers: Marijuana cigarettes

Rhino: Money

Right: Adjective indicating quality

Ringers: Fakes

Ritzy: Elegant

Rod: Gun

Roscoe: Gun

Rub-out: A killing

Rube: Bumpkin, easy mark

Rumble, the: The news

Sap: A dumb guy

Sap poison: Getting hit with a sap

Savvy: Get me? Understand?

Sawbuck: $10 bill (a double sawbuck is a $20 bill)

Schnozzle: Nose

Scram out: Leave

Scratch: Money

Scratcher: Forger

Send over: Send to jail

Shamus: (Private) detective

Sharper: A swindler or sneaky person

Sheba: A woman with sex appeal

Sheik: A man with sex appeal

Shells: Bullets

Shiv: Knife

Shylock: Loanshark

Shyster: Lawyer

Sing: Make a confession

Sister: Woman

Skate around: To be of easy virtue

Skid rogue: A bum who can't be trusted

Skirt: Woman

Slant, Get a: Take a look

Sleuth: Detective

Slug: A bullet or to knock unconscious

Smoked: Drunk

Snap a cap: Shout

Snatch: Kidnap

Sneeze: Take

Snitch: An informer, or to inform

Snooper: Detective

Speakeasy: An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor

Spiffy: Looking elegant

Soak: To pawn

Sock: Punch

Soup: Nitroglycerine

Soup job: To crack a safe using nitroglycerine

Spill: Talk, inform

Spinach: Money

Spitting: Talking

Square: Honest

Squeeze: A female companion or girlfriend

Squirt metal: Shoot bullets

Step off: To be hanged

Stiff: A corpse

Sting: Culmination of a con game

Stool-pigeon: Informer

Stoolie: Stool-pigeon

Stuck On: Having a crush on

Sucker: Someone ripe for a grifter's scam

Sugar: Money

Swanky: Ritzy

Swell: Wonderful

Tail: Shadow or follow

Take a powder: Leave

Take on: Eat

Take for a Ride: Drive off with someone in order to bump them off

Take the air: Leave

Take the bounce: To get kicked out

Take the fall for: Accept punishment for

That's the crop: That's all of it

Three-spot: Three-year jail term

Throw lead: Shoot bullets

Ticket: P.I. license

Tiger milk: Some sort of liquor

Tighten the screws: Put pressure on somebody

Tin: Badge

Tip a few: To have a few drinks

Tomato: Pretty woman

Tooting the wrong ringer: Asking the wrong person

Torpedoes: Gunmen

Trap: Mouth

Trigger man: Man whose job is to use a gun

Trouble boys: Gangsters

Twist: Woman

Two bits: $25, or 25 cents

Under glass: In jail

Weak sister: A push-over

Wear iron: Carry a gun

Wise head: A smart person

Wooden kimono: A coffin

Wop: derogatory term for an Italian

Worker, as in "She sizes up as a worker": A woman who takes a guy for his money

Wrong gee: Not a good fellow

Wrong number: Not a good fellow

Ya Follow: do you understand?

Yap: Mouth

Yard: $100

Yegg: Safecracker who can only open cheap and easy safes

Zotzed: Killed

Zozzled: Drunk

#vocabulary guide #writing resource #writing guide #writing help #rph #Resource: Writing #*g #*mine

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buddaimond · 7 years ago

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By Phil de Semlyen. on November 10 2017

Q&A (Rob’s quotes in bold)

Q: The film’s directed by the Safdie brothers. I heard you spotted a picture from one of their other films online and basically cold-called them, then they wrote this film for you. Is that true?

‘It’s weird, Josh [Safdie] talked about this earlier: “I looked at the photo you were talking about and it was just a photo of an actress’s face!” It was from their film “Heaven Knows What” and I just had this feeling about it, so I sent them a couple of emails saying I was down to do anything.’

‘Good Time’ is set in a very specific New York world. Did you dive deep into that?

‘I spent a whole day in character. I’d never done anything like that before. Benny [Safdie, who plays his brother] and I spent a day in Yonkers, hanging out in Dunkin’ Donuts and meeting people he knew. We went to a couple of prisons too.’

Were there any ‘Twilight’ fans among the inmates?

‘There was one. We’d been there for five or six hours and no one had any idea who I was, but as we were leaving via this elevator full of inmates,  I could feel this guy staring at me. I went, “What?” and he just looks at me and goes, [puts on a broad Queens accent] “Fuckin’ ‘Twilight’!” [laughs]. Suddenly everyone in this elevator is staring at me. I’m literally going: “I don’t know what he’s talking about.” It was terrifying.’

There must have been some weird on-set moments, too. There’s a scene where a dye pack explodes in your car, for instance.

‘I had really bad bronchitis – it was freezing in New York at the time – and I basically breathed in an enormous amount of red paint. What I was spitting out for about three weeks afterwards was just insane.’

The feel of the film reminds me of those ’70s classics like ‘The French Connection’ – filming out on the city streets but not necessarily with all the relevant paperwork…

‘We filmed a robbery scene but we didn’t have permission to shoot outside the bank, only inside. We had masks on and there were cops everywhere. It looked like we were actually robbing a bank. I sent Josh this video a few days ago of a guy who’d been filming a scene like the one in “Good Time” and the police had shot at him.’

What made you want to get into acting in the first place?

‘I joined this little amateur theatre company in Barnes, I think specifically because I fancied this girl. I’d had no interest in acting until then but one audition broke the seal. It was so scary: I hadn’t sung, danced or acted in front of anyone, and suddenly I was doing all three in this audition for “Guys and Dolls”. I wanted the Frank Sinatra part. I think I got cast as a Cuban dancer [laughs].’

Was that a formative experience?

‘A lot of people there took it extraordinarily seriously and I wasn’t really accepted into that group, so that was massively formative. [Puts on petulant voice] “I’m a fucking outsider!” I went to America before quite a few of my peers for the same reason: I didn’t feel like I fitted in with the English theatre crowd. Also, I got fired from a play and got pissed off with everybody.’

Your career kicked off with two huge franchises, ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Twilight’, but you haven’t gone back down the blockbuster route. If there was a part in, say, ‘Star Wars’, would you take it?

‘Sure, yes. I love those movies and everyone wants those parts. I feel like it’s quite a helpful thing for a career to be consistent. If you go: I’m going to do something really crazy, but then do something really conservative, I don’t think it really works. It’s taken a long time but now people are going, “Oh, you do quite oddball things.”’

Has your relationship with ‘Twilight’ changed  over the years?

‘I mean, kind of. I feel like I’ve always had the  same answer. It was fun and it’s not like I signed up on an eight-picture deal, I knew it was finite.  I had to be 17, there were only four books and there weren’t going to be any more. The only time it felt negative was when people were waiting outside my house a few years ago.’

Do you still get ‘R-Patz’ shouted at you?

‘That’s the one thing: why some people end up with a moniker and some don’t. It’s really unfair that I ended up with a moniker [laughs].’

‘Harry Potter and the Cursed Child’ is on at the moment in London. Have you seen it?

‘I haven’t yet, but I really want to. It is strange for me because that feels like a lifetime ago.’

Your old character plays a big part in it.  Do you feel at all possessive of Cedric Diggory?

‘Not really. Even with “Twilight”, I’d be curious if someone else played it. It was so nice to be a part of it. That, more than anything, changed my life. It’s the reason I didn’t go to university.’

‘Harry Potter’ stopped you from going to uni?

‘It went so far over schedule, I couldn’t go. It was supposed to be four months, but it ended up being ten or 11. I’d turn up to set every day but not work for weeks at a time [because he wasn’t needed for filming]. I was 17 and I was the only person who wasn’t in school. I’d just hang about.’

Does London still feel like home to you?

‘I split my time between here and LA, but London is still my favourite city. I don’t think I could stay in the same place for more than six months, though. I don’t have any nesting instinct.’

Can you walk around town easily?

‘I’m always walking around everywhere – although I walk like a maniac. I cycle everywhere in London, which I really miss when I’m in LA.’

What are your cultural haunts?

‘I’m completely out of touch, it’s terrible. I used to get so panicky in public areas, and I’m only just starting to get over it. I went to Tate Modern for the first time three months ago – the Giacometti exhibition, which was incredible.

Do you find it hard to take holidays?

‘That’s the other weird thing about acting: you’re constantly worried about being unemployed.’

Hollywood knows how to throw a party.  Do you enjoy that side of the job?

‘It’s fun. Performers get nervous about people seeing their true selves, so they either hide away or perform at all times. It’s fascinating to go to a party with people who’ve all decided to be “on”. The Met Ball… oh my God! Everything is dialled up to 15.’

Doesn’t part of you fancy sitting in the corner  and having a quiet pint?

‘You just have to commit to it. That one's tough, though.’

‘Good Time’ has got some Oscar buzz, so there may be a few more big bashes ahead…

‘Even when we were doing this movie, I had no idea what was going to happen with it – it was so tiny. It’s been one of the craziest journeys.’

#TImeOutLondon #Robert Pattinson #Good Time #Twilight #Harry Potter

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happy-hollow-rpg · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me How To Sing || Rada Orlov || Trial Results 1 || re: Erika K, Maui, Dusky, Shaela and Trick. ATTN: Everyone.

She knew it was coming. Trick read off the results and with each word she felt the metaphorical guillotine blade clicking back another notch.

‘That is correct, however. Ava Alkaev, or rather, Rada Orlov is indeed the culprit behind this killing!’

How long has it been since she’s last heard her name? Five-- no, six years… Or was it nearing seven now? Her memory of that time is dreadfully blurry and the painful crescendo of silent screaming in the back of her mind isn’t helping matters. At least it was information shared by Trick and no one else… her single saving grace preventing the noise from immediately hitting a fever pitch.

“N-No secret… i-is worth… a life…” Rada replied bitterly to Maui through her tears. “I n-never wanted… t-to hurt anyone…ever... I d-didn’t… have a choice… I’m not… g-given one… E-Even though I… d-don’t want to die… i-if I had… b-been allowed… to instead trade… m-my own life… f-for hers… I would have...”

Rada squeezes her eyes tightly shut. The question about the charm… The implications of it still made every nerve in her body feel like it was on fire.

“A-And then… the sniper rifle… charm… it’s mi--hrk!”

Her words cut off with a choked and strangled sound. Ah ah ah, you naughty girl, you know better. Another round then-- Rada begins to cough violently, one hand pressed over her mouth while the other grips the edge of the desk to keep from falling over. No matter how hard she coughs, the feeling of water in her lungs refuses to leave… until it suddenly vanishes and she can breathe again.

“O-Oh no… I…” Rada wheezes before taking in a sharp breath, tears of both fear and pain beading up. “I… s-still c-can’t… answer that… I’m sorry... I w-want to… a-and so… m-much more… b-but I… can’t…”

“M-Miss Kimoto… a-and Miss Allaway… sh-should both… understand… the feeling... f-from the… quiz show… M-Miss Aceso… t-too… I-I’m sorry… I j-just… c-can’t do it...”

----------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my, that would cause a few problems in times like this, wouldn’t it?” Trick pipes up from her seat.

“What was it again… Ah, that’s right! Songbird, speak freely and without past restrictions. That should do it.”

----------------------------------------------------------

As Trick spoke, Rada looked nervously in her direction. Just what was she--

"..."

The moment she hears it, she freezes, the only movement of her body the flickering of her eyes to lock onto Trick. But she’s not kept waiting, not like usual. The haze clears rapidly and Rada blinks a few times as the words settle into her bones.

“Wait... Y-You... M-My name is…” She pauses, weighing the syllables on her tongue before trying them. “R-Rada… Orlov… O-Oh..!”

She squeaks, holding both of her hands over her mouth as tears roll down her face. “Rada Orlov, that’s my name…! I c-can… say it…!” She says with wonder before she's slammed back into the reality of her situation. She has to act quickly.

“I-If I can talk... I n-need to--.... The sniper rifle charm… i-it’s mine…"

"I w-was taken... seven y-years ago... b-by the Russian mafia... I h-had to follow orders… n-no one was ever allowed to know… wh-what I did… and i-if they found out… I-I had to… k-kill them… I c-couldn’t let... the motive here go… a-another day… where someone else… m-might get the charm too… o-or figure out… it was me… and tell everyone…”

“O-Once the conditions for… the order take… I-I can’t hold it back forever… I-It’s like trying to… dam up a geyser… the pressure just keeps building… u-until it… explodes…”

“I w-wasn’t… trying to… f-frame anyone… I n-never… lied about that…” Most of what she’d said during the trial hadn’t been a lie, although she highly doubted that anyone would believe her.

“The handkerchief… m-must have… fallen out… of my pocket… wh-when I was leaving… th-the instrument closet… I d-didn’t even… know it… was missing… until M-Miss Aceso… sh-showed me…”

“I summoned… the sandwich… s-so that… the magic… might be… mistaken… a-as poison… b-because of its presence… i-instead of… summoning… W-With the number… o-of poison… caster cards around… and other… p-possible foodstuffs that… c-could have been… l-lethally poisoned… I thought… th-that there would be… t-too much… confusion to… tie it back… t-to a single person… and that… we wouldn’t reach… a conclusion… and just… run out… th-the clock… I n-never expected… a-anyone to… e-eat something that… c-could have… b-been the… m-murder weapon… A-And for people to get… poisoned...!”

“I didn’t know… th-that the… s-stardust… still glowed… w-with magic… once they crumbled… I thought… i-it was… inert… There was… s-some left in… th-the envelope… I p-put the powder into… It would have… very l-likely been… unnoticeable… otherwise… u-unless someone… u-used a… poison caster card… a-and risked… implicating themselves… or were… r-repeatedly casting… th-the spell M-Miss Julia… taught a few… o-of us… on everything… in sight...”

“And there was… o-only ever one… h-hemlock flower… I brought back… s-seeds from… M-Miss Julia’s… cottage… You can’t… powder… a live flower… a-and I didn’t… e-expect it to… be considered… e-evidence… since I… d-didn’t use it… t-to kill… M-Miss Davis… Otherwise… I would have… thrown it out…”

“I haven’t stolen anything… a-and I didn’t… set any of… the traps… O-Other than… k-kill Miss Davis… I haven’t… d-done anything to… hurt anyone...”

With the sheer amount of words that kept flowing from her nervous mouth, you’d think that she’d eventually run out of steam. Only now does she finally give pause, trembling as she realizes that she has no idea how much of her precious time she’s wasted already.

She’d prepared for this, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Rada’s gloved hands dove back into the pockets of her black coat, slowly pulling item after item from inside of it and setting them all onto the desk before bustling around the room with a few items in hand at a time.

On her own desk, she sets down a small vial of a milky-colored liquid that swirls of an off-white shade spiral when it’s shaken in front of Erika L. “I-It’s a potion of… fingernail growth…” She notes quietly, before moving on counterclockwise.

In front of Santiago, she sets down a swiss army knife. “I-I’ve only used… the tools… I p-promise...” She squeaks.

Then in front of Dusky, Rada places a time caster card and a rounded bottle with clear blue liquid. The air space in the bottle is filled with a gray fog. “I s-still… d-don’t know what… it does… s-sorry…”

Since Kimoto has been shadowing her, she skips over Erika K’s spot and goes straight to Sully, setting down the small vial filled with a watery looking greenish liquid, as well as a beautiful necklace in the shape of two interlocking rings. “M-Miss Allaway said… i-it might be… y-yours… a-and the potion… r-really is just… a potion of joy… Th-Thank you for… always… b-being nice...” Rada mumbles.

The next table is unoccupied, so Rada moves on to Amelia and Maui. She sets her own palm sized notebook and pen down in front of Amelia (“Th-There’s some… o-of my writing… in Russian… b-but the paper is… nice…”) but in front of Maui she sets down a literal bag of marijuana, stammers “M-Mister Treat summoned it… f-for me f-for a coin… D-Don’t make me… e-explain more please…!!” and zips away.

Next, she sets down her empty leather coin pouch in front of RJ. “I-I thought… i-it might work… f-for a p-portable nest… f-for your… chick…” She mumbles towards him.

Then turning to Niro, she sniffles and places an ornate papercraft rose blossom on the table. “...Th-Thank you… for the… d-duet…” Rada squeaks before her hands fidget at the bottom of her dress on her right thigh and-- she shoves an untied garter with tiny metal sticks in it onto the space in front of him, turning bright pink. “Th-There’s a bunch a-and… they might be… d-different than… th-the ones you… a-already have… I know its… n-nice to… have extras… S-S-Sorry about… the garter...!” Rada scurries away. She’s going to die of embarrassment before she dies her actual death at this rate.

The next table is empty, so she moves on past it to Elle and Shaela.

“...I r-really wasn’t… trying to frame you… M-Miss Ambrose… and I… d-do appreciate… e-everything that… y-you tried to do… f-for me… I-I’m sorry… I r-ruined it...” Rada bites her lip and sets down a poison caster card and a luck caster card in front of Elle. On the space in front of Shaela, she sets down her black coat. “It’s a good coat… i-it should fit… if you want it… a-and there’s peppermints… in the pockets… i-if you want to… give sugar gifts… or offerings…” That’s reaaaally about the max amount of time she wants to be near Shaela, so she zips off again.

Treat and Trick each get a paper flower set in front of them, and a black ball of yarn by Trouble, before Rada heads back to her own desk to give a pair of things to Erika Kimoto. The first is a round bottle with milky white liquid, but the second item she carefully unfolds is a shawl made out of crocheted stars in pretty purple and red yarn. She speaks quietly with her for a short time before turning back to the class.

“I d-don’t know… h-how much… time I-I have left… b-but i-if there’s… a-anything I can… a-answer… I-I’ll… d-do my best…”

#chapter2 #trial2 #ic #Ava #submission

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bloojayoolie · 7 years ago

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Af, Anime, and Apparently: , Okay Ibl, story ame when I wss younger, had this Irish friend who pred our school when w as like 17, Dude ded recently nd here丐the ballad of the merveeus bsstard be average as fuck 17 year old Bribong Some foreign guy has just joined, his family just moved here city called Dery in Mgved here with his dad and his lite sister, his mum died when he was younger He gets put in my class and ends up stting nest to me This is howl met Eigh-Beers Mgee the all him Call him a hippo because of his fucking industrial size frant teeth and his big flucking lps Greg uses his adism to get out of doing and saying whatever the fuck he wants noing EB wth she lke Greg has his desk very paricularly arranged, pens on one side in a straight ine pencis on the other Dude is OCD as fuck with his pencilcase and shit Goes nuts i anything gets moved, so this desk is sightly apart from everyone elses We all get in shit twe fuck with him an purpose, We ought to know better The sutistic hippo keeps trying to get a reaction out of EB the whole class All af a sudden EB just casualy raises a foot and pushes the Hppo's desk right the fuck over Teacher hurries oer and trying to explan to EB atma Gregs autism while Greg teaks the tack G in his chair, breathing reawy ss thoug gh nong bd sheer辍tstie resentment EB looks at Greg and betsthe teacher "Oh sorry, wedant have Wid bump with more nenhinbeland' h on EB's third day at our school He's a pretty cool guyikes the 쑈me vidya and movies as me and is a big fan of Rugby, was captan of his team back iieland ell hem the school has s rughy searn he says EB goes to check it out, starts off on the lower team because hes think theyire ston of kind of fast runners gets recks fucking everyone that next hal f hel take him Jumps on him, grabs him by the neck to pull him down and iterally rolls on him ike a fucking rolling pn -EB didniteven have the bal What the fook you playin at son I didnt even have the ball, do you even know how to fookin play the game lad EB grins You know over in Ireland you have to be fit to play sports, the fatties get leit on the sideline EB grabs his amn and tosses him to the ground dude twists his anke or something and starts twitching and squeaking lke a baby elephant with parkinsons EB gets put on top team Anonymous (D wHTHOgC) 03 19/14(Wedj20 28 25 UTC-5 No 538041137 Reple 41T months without inc dont give long as youre cool to him dents aside from a few close cals with Greg the Mildly Autistic Hppo e pretty close Apparently ㅲ Ireland they don't have gangs they have paramitanes fighting between whether Northern lreland ts Britsh or hsh >He plays 4down a kal, bd ican tell some shit mu have Pagpened because he always changes the subject when gets clos·tohame Edgy fapgot Luke comes back to school Luke hangs around with a pack of riggers who are all apparenty in a gang, he les to pretend he's part of this "gang" and carries this fucking Stanky e around that he panted red and bue for some reason aOne day at lunch Like corries up to EBied o ofnotere starts askrig his datisalcoholc Nope aound Tm guessin your mam had a far lew belore you were born though mate Well tuck Ind wanna sift speI had to sht out a dat bastardlke yourset. Jog on ン"You win t)4ck with the wrong person t y inst, boy?" EB starts laughing, IHeraly loses his sht at the ste of this Itle fagpot in a trenchc oat with a stanley knfe and actualy presses EB grabs his wrist, takes the fabled blade from the hands of the chosen one tosses t over a fence and punches him straight in the face We're out geting beer, Tm with a 7/10 GT that Ive had a crush on for tucking months Her and EB get along realy wel, athough I sort of think she only hung out with us because EB did That right when we're all drunk, me and QT end up fucking Leaving out my side because this is the ballad of Eght Beer, not me Spend ages taking with QT,estabǐshthat shè apparenty seat, ikes me back EB heads up to bed, I stay down with the other guys to watch TV, QT was askeep when 1 came down QT comes running do wwith a towel round her, soaking wet, and rung out the ont door Apparently EB sleeps naked, not surpnised since Ive found him naked before after a night of drinking Says she came on to himeven ater all he shit she said aLaugh숨 and says he took aprt to bed with hm,awas cn e tablo and when she ed onwth him he lossed all over her Threw her clothes out the wendow into the rain and told her to go and fetch Two weeks later he takes me to a pub and hooks me up with a 910 Anonymous (TDwHT HOC) 03/1914(Wed 20.43 59 UTC-5 No 538044014 Raps.4380408044772 332420 EB and me are total bros after being fnends for a few years 가%aving hm as a best friend is Ike havngtose nasty trainers as a kid Shit get pretty he avy >Him and E汨were close, mostly because EB would buy him vidya and act super interested in the anime sht he lied because nobody else other than me would loses his har chermo aGotovst him, EBisgung me there >He thinks rs awesome get our photo taken together witout any har EB lets him draw all kinds of dumb sh on his bad head, lets him draw a dumb moustache on him o Spend ages just dicking a >Son of a bitch luke who R is, Dukey the Rookie is across the bar in the same tucking trenchcoat he wore back at school >EB says hi chats away to him lbe nothing ever happened >We head home and EB spend the night sitting up with me playing Batlefront on my old P52 and drinking, just trying to cheer me up me every time Sorry for that 2sad4me post, but iti make sense later Anonymous (IO woitth%) 05/19/14(Wed)20 52 46 UTC-5 No 530045357 Reeses 씌38amsrme esaaa Lving together in a let with some chick and her boyfriend The one song I remember is "Uncle Tommy by The Rumjacks, because it played when sht went down EB told them that he "ain't lookin any trouble lads, have a beer and forget that tripe for the night aye? 4 of them jump on him, start beating the shit out of him -l tackle one of them to try help him, get the fuck beaten out of me but fuck that it's goddamn E8 in there EB broke the dudes fucking am He gets up, bleeding out of every pore in his beaunful iwish body Bouncing around with his fists up, Ieraly looks ike he could fly around the room he's bouncing that much The skinheads keep going for him but back off every time aher he swings, it looks lke he could knock a building down with that sh Babbling some incoherent shit in lrish rage, nobody understands the words but everyone understands the meaning pack up there sht ike a scene from a fucking move Eight tucking beersl You splied eight of me fucking beers you hairless tuckin mongrels Eight beers lad, eight fucking beers What's the fucking craic there lke Anonymous (D: wHTiHOgC) 031914(Wed]21:6 02 UTC-5 No. 538047326 EB sgoing back to Ireland to vist his nan, she's real sick 기we lar dr, Befast-thritrs the captal of the oth but not of Ireland ckhow t wori ed EB never eaty expla edit, 5ad you wont understand the bullsh politics unless you grew up there go 1o vist his nan with EB' Sweetest tucking old lady ever, says that EB was always a rough lad but awk he'd never hurt a sour greedy fucker This woman is clearly the most infuenial famly member in the Eight Beer famly EE shows me round Derry, tels me about how 5pIt relgusy and shows methes bg ass wall cood place Takes me to Belast agan and shows methe pace wherethe ttanc was bu -we end up going to place caled The Crown Bar Ger pretty drunk, or Tpped as EB calls it Walked around Belfast for a bt, he tells me about the history of some stuf »Spend a few nights there, have a fucking blast but decide to head home don't wanna be an inrusion on the whole nan stustion Lad you're practicaly a part of the famly Anonymous D wH7HOQC) 03/19/14Wd21 18 48 UTC-5 No 538040230 Getting close to the end now Shits hard to wrte, I miss hat fucker Life is prety uneventful for a wle pparentty some Kiddy Fiddler called Wilm Whight fucked EB when totally agan family home a load of sht, fucks 2EB spends all nut there next to her, nearly gets wolent when staff ask harto leave so doctors can sort some 닸官out calm him down and we wat r, hosptzd for brig bme B's Sister gets beter, but is pretty fucked for life Never taks never leaves the house she's pretty much a goddarmn vegetable EB spends all of his time off work with her, never comes out anymore, just sts in with her. We sometimes come ound and drink with him but he refuses to leave the house -One night while he's sieeping, EB's fucked up sister C's faul, that's pretty much the main subject of t. I don't get why she'd need to say that but whabever Tels me he waan't that close with his family back home his dad is fucked up with grief and everythings just a mess ie doesn't want to go home because he has nothng there other than remnders, but doesn't want to stay here because of what has pened Does his best to be the usual bi9dck coolguy that he always was, puts on a brave face but f you c h him on his own he's luckn9 merable ite gets in 갠 few fights when we're ot dmkrg ry one who gnestmamy 5hvt gets m edistety fucking amidated none ofths ads everyone on" that he used to do s fighting back tears already guessed, but he starts teling me about how he blames himseffor what ��had pened to his sis have tucking known better >Lterally carrot change his mid anthis shit, looks like he has himse#1uly convinced th this is his taut we talk about old imes laugh a be things actualy seem back to normal for whie Ainight mabe. Let's have one for old tme's sake, ae? Hie eventualily leaves, but before he goes he tells me that 'You've been a good mate from day one mate. Honestly out on a limb rd do fuckin' anything for ya Take t easy lad speti ong tme EB doesn't reply to teats or Cutign place doeant answer B tucking hung himsel is fanly tatoo many things that I don't need thanked every tme fucker

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Af #Anime #and Appare

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