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studiobeebo · 3 years

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this was Mad Cute and i got way too into my feelings so if it’s too mushy im So Sorry LMAO

but anyways i hope you enjoy bc this one was fun to write! @alibrick1

☆ One Thousand Wishes ☆

Megumi Fushiguro x Unspecified Gender! Reader

as always if y’all enjoy this please remember that reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

“Oh hey, I was wondering-“ You started, pushing yourself up onto your elbows from your current position lying on the ground. “Do you ever make wishes when you see a shooting star?”

The question had broken the comfortable silence between the two of you and caught him off guard, but after a moment of thinking it over he simply shrugged in response.

“Not really.”

“Not really or never?”

“Does it matter?” He said with a roll of his eyes, but hearing you snicker quietly from your spot beside him only made his stomach flutter in a way that had been getting a bit much for his tastes over the past few weeks.

The two of you had started out as nothing but classmates, two people that just happened to be unlucky enough to be ‘gifted’ with the ability to use cursed techniques and take out demonic beings. To be honest, he even thought you were a bit annoying at first, but it wasn’t necessarily personal and more just how he reacted to just about anyone new in his life. That train of thought was quick to change though, so quick that he hadn’t even really noticed when you crossed the line from classmates to friends until he actually thought about the fact that he enjoyed spending time with you, even outside of classes and missions. He wouldn’t say the two of you were ‘inseparable’ or anything like that, but he could at least admit to the title of close friends. Or at least, he used to be fine with that title, but lately it had felt like whatever it was the two of you had had grown past ‘just friends’ and once he realized that, he found it difficult to keep playing that part.

He had always been focused and determined when it came to his line of ‘work’, and his focus certainly wasn’t going to shift to anything else entirely, but he could feel a tiny bit of it shifting to you no matter how hard he tried to reign it back in.

Just hearing you say his name or laugh at something he said was enough to make his heart skip a beat and he’d be damned if his other friends ever saw the color that burned his cheeks anytime you’d grab his arm to get his attention or lean in too close when looking at something he wanted to show you. He even started feeling awkward when the two of you would hang out, let alone when it was just the two of you together, and yet despite the easy solution to all his problems being to distance himself from you, he still found himself here; lying next to you on a large tattered blanket outside in the courtyard under a clear night sky.

When you had first mentioned a small meteor shower that was going to be visible that night and asked him if he wanted to stay up to watch it with you, he gave a nonchalant “Sure, I don’t care.” in response, though the reality was that he very much did care, probably too much so. He couldn’t help but simultaneously want to hide in a corner every time you entered the room and spend what little free time he had by your side, but either way he had always had trouble saying ‘No’ to you in any way, shape, or form, and that affliction was only getting worse by the day.

“I usually do,” You began once more after a few minutes, “Make wishes- I mean. But I dunno if it would work tonight since there should be a lot of them…” You hummed, eyes drifting up to the well darkened sky speckled with thousands of shining stars that spanned out above you.

You always joked that other people never prayed or made wishes until they actually needed something terribly, but oh what a hypocrite you had become. You were by no means an astrologist or anything, but shooting stars aside, you found a particular wish always popped into your head as if on impulse whenever the opportunity arose.

‘I wish he thought about me like I think about him.’

It was embarrassing and cliche and you almost always mentally kicked yourself every time the hopeless-romantic wish came to your mind, but you had discovered no amount of not wanting to be a dumb teenager in love could actually stop said love. Still, even accepting your feelings for Megumi didn’t automatically give you the courage to act on them, so you’d simply push it to the back of your mind and hope that the next time you thought of it, you’d have the courage to do something about it. You thought that this might be that situation, but the quiet of the night aside from the noisy bugs and other wildlife did a number on your nerves and small talk seemed to be the only thing you could muster up.

The chatter between the two of you fizzled out after your question, but that wasn’t really a bad thing either. One of the things you liked about him was that silence between the two of you was never uncomfortable and you didn’t feel like you had to scramble to make conversation to avoid the awkwardness, something that, had he known, he’d agree that it was something he loved about you too.

“Oh shit- did you see that one?!” You suddenly yelped, sitting up completely with wide eyes trained on the sky where you had seen a flash of light trail by only seconds before.

“Where was it?” Megumi asked, your sudden outburst peaking his interest as he too sat up and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see what he figured had already faded out of sight.

“Kinda to the right of that bright one, it was like kinda green at the end too. You have to actually watch.”

“I am watching..” He muttered, trying and failing to ignore the fact that you had scooted closer to him to point out where you had been looking. Maybe if he had been bolder he would have done something dramatic, but after a few more minutes of silence and intense watching on your end, he decided to continue your previous line of conversation instead.

“You said wishing probably wouldn’t work since there’ll be thousands of stars or whatever... So what would you wish for if it worked for every one of them?”

Your cheeks felt a bit warm at the mere idea of confessing your wish that you had repeated to yourself what felt like hundreds of times, so it was your turn to shrug and send a smile his way that hopefully didn’t make you look nervous.

“If I told you then my wish wouldn’t come true.”

He turned his head almost immediately and tried to sink deeper into the safety of his hoodie where he could at least try to hide the color that bloomed on his cheeks despite the only trigger being a simple smile playing on your lips.

“You say ‘wish’ as if you’d just wish for the same thing over and over again.”

“Yeah, well-“ You hummed and nodded, your eyes falling back down to him with a smile still on your face. “Maybe for now, that one wish is all that I need.”

“But what about you, huh? There’s no way you wouldn’t wish for anything.”

He didn’t even really have to think of something he would wish for because it only took a millisecond for his brain to say ‘You.’. That, and he wished he wasn’t so easily embarrassed to a point where he could feel the tips of his ears get warm at the thought of it, but all he could do was hope that it was dark enough and that he was turned far enough away that you wouldn’t notice as he gave a half assed answer in an attempt to play it cool.

“Dunno, better reception out here maybe?”

“Liar.” You said with another laugh, “C’mooon, what would you wish for really?”

“What happened to ‘If I told you then my wish wouldn’t come true’.?”

You rolled your eyes at his mocking words and scoffed as you layed back down, crossing your arms behind your head with a content sigh nonetheless as you looked back up at the sky once more.

“Guess we’ll both just have to hope our thousand wishes come true then, hm?”

“Yeah..” He spoke quietly, finally getting the courage to look back over to you, the person he’d happily spend a thousand and then some wishes on if that’s what it would take. “I guess we will.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #bee writes #summer dreams

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averykedavra · 4 years

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Couldn’t Care Less

Anonymous asked: logince + pining + patching up each other’s wounds? make it as angsty as you like uwu

You’re speaking my language, anon! I decided to combine this with Animal Attack from my @badthingshappenbingo card. So here’s some Logince that was meant to be hurt/comfort, but for the first portion I just wrote fluff and humor before remembering it was supposed to be angsty. Oh well. Thanks to the amazing wonderful human @chaospersonified for the idea and first line, as well as my other friend @carrot-kake-chillin for some of the puns. The first aid might not be entirely accurate, but I did try to research. (Also yes, I know Logan couldn’t actually pull off a one-person lift of Roman, shut up, let me have this.)

Title is from Not Another Song About Love by Hollywood Ending. You can find this fic on Ao3 here.

Summary: Logan reluctantly agrees to accompany Roman on a quest in the Imagination, but after Roman gets hurt, Logan blames himself.

Pairings: Romantic Logince

Words: 4101

Warnings: blood, wounds, fantasy violence, threats of murder and eating someone (from an animal), self-deprecation, kissing, maybe very mild cursing?

Roman has done many stupid things, many annoying things, and many things that make Logan question why he still talks to the Creative Side. In fact, it would probably be quicker for him to list the things Roman’s done that have not thrown a wrench in Logan’s productivity and sanity.

However, dragging him to the Imagination because he was “in need of a valiant sidekick” might just take the figurative cake.

“Why can’t you bother Patton?” Logan had pleaded. “Or Virgil? Or your brother?”

“They all said no!”

“I can’t imagine why.” Logan rolled his eyes. “I have work to do, Roman!”

“It’ll be fun!” Roman grabbed Logan’s arm and hauled him off the couch. “You’re always saying we need to practice self-care, right? Exercise is part of that!”

Logan struggled to fight off Roman’s grip. Why was he so strong? “Roman, you’re interfering with productivity--”

“All I’m hearing is ‘I’m a square and need to lighten up,’“ Roman said in a sing-song voice. “Let’s go, Specs!”

That’s how Logan ended up marching through a forest, wearing a frankly ridiculous outfit with a sword on his hip, ‘fighting’ various monsters that were either ripped from Greek Mythology or a D&D Manual. But when Logan pointed that out, Roman curled into himself a little bit and mumbled something about “thought they were cool.” Logan immediately quieted, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest.

Despite his dire predictions, the expedition was not terrible. The forest was beautiful, filled with luminous flowers and tall trees, the leaves dappling the path with shadows. Roman wasn’t terrible company either. He kept the Disney songs to a minimum and asked Logan about his favorite books. Logan didn’t even have to do any fighting. He could just sit back and watch Roman burn a hydra with a torch. He could admire Roman’s sword techniques from a distance as he flipped and plunged the blade into the chest of a behir, a triumphant smile on his face and his hair mussed--

Logan flushed and stared pointedly at the sky. “Roman! I...this has been fun, but I have places to be!”

Places where you’re not making me think illogical thoughts, he didn’t add.

Roman frowned, wiping his sword on the ground. “But we’re having so much fun!”

"I am sorry,” Logan said. The statement wasn’t a falsehood. It wasn’t Roman’s fault he was so...distracting. “However, I really do have things to attend to, Roman, for the benefit of Thomas.”

“Fine,” Roman said, pouting. “Would hate to get in the way of that. The door should be that way.”

Logan nodded and followed him down a smaller trail. Only ten minutes or so, and he’d be out of the Imagination and could return to his desk and surround himself with numbers that made sense and not Roman, who didn’t.

Unfortunately, Roman apparently decided that they needed to make the most of those ten minutes.

“Roman, for the love of Crofters,” Logan said, when their path was blocked for the seventh time. “Would you care to tell me why there are so many goddamn monsters on this path?”

“I dunno,” Roman said, failing to hide his smile. “It doesn’t seem like that many.”

“We’ve had seven encounters! It’s been four minutes!” Logan shook his head. “This is worse than a Pokemon game. Don’t any of your Imagination creatures prefer civilized debate?”

Roman slashed the goblin in half. “You just don’t understand quests.”

“I understand them perfectly well.” Logan stepped past the goblin’s body. “Please, Roman. I know you control the Imagination. I am begging you to stop with the endless fighting and let me walk back to the door in peace.”

“Fine.” Roman sheathed his sword. “Party pooper. Excuse me for trying to make this exciting.”

“There are forms of excitement other than excessive violence.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Like ‘civilized debate?’”

“I find it highly stimulating.”

“Whatever you say.” Roman chuckled to himself. “Let’s keep going.”

For a minute or two, no animals leaped out of the trees. Logan entertained the idea that Roman had actually listened to him and sent all nearby monsters away.

Then he spotted something on the path ahead.

“Roman,” Logan said tightly. “Please tell me that’s not another monster.”

“Sorry,” Roman said, not sounding sorry at all. “I cannot tell a lie.”

Logan rubbed at his eyes. “Why, again, did I agree to this?”

“Beats me!” Roman leapt forward, grinning. “Come on, let’s say hi!”

Logan sighed loudly and followed him.

This monster was smaller than many of the ones they’d already fought. It had a woman’s face with narrow cheekbones and amber eyes, dark hair chopped in a messy pageboy haircut. Beneath her head was a lion’s body, crouched with her paws out. A familiar position for a familiar animal.

“A sphinx?” Logan asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“Yes,” said the sphinx, tail twitching. “Before you pass, you must answer me these riddles three.”

“Right,” Logan said. “Of course.”

“Hey, you wanted ‘civil debate!’“ Roman waved a hand at the sphinx. “Here you go!”

Logan glared at him. “I don’t suppose, since you created this animal, you know the answers to the three riddles so we can get on with our lives?”

“I don’t direct their individual actions,” Roman said. “Beats me what she’ll say.”

“Fine.” Logan stepped forward, staring at the sphinx. She didn’t appear that intimidating, with a coppery coat and small wings on her flanks. Her haunches reached to Logan’s chest. “What are your riddles?”

“Are you the one who chooses to answer?”

Logan glanced at Roman, known dumbass. “Yes. I would like us to actually pass.”

“Hey!” Roman complained.

“If you get all three riddles wrong,” the sphinx said smugly, “I eat you.”

Logan glanced at Roman’s sword, known sharp object. “Understood.”

“Thus, the trial begins.” The sphinx licked its paw thoughtfully. “These riddles shall be challenging, human. They shall stretch your mortal brain and--”

“Get on with it,” Logan said. “Also, if your first riddle is the ‘what walks on four legs in the morning’ riddle, I will be extremely disappointed.”

“Do you think I’m an amateur?” the sphinx asked. “I might just eat you for that slight, mortal.”

“Apologies. I underestimated you. Please continue.”

Roman was giggling into his hands. Logan gave him another glare for good measure, already running through every riddle he knew. This should be easy.

The sphinx ruffled its hair and took a breath. “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

Logan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“What did the grape say when it got crushed?” the sphinx repeated. “You have one minute.”

“I--” Logan glanced over at Roman. “What?”

"He is not allowed to help you.”

“You heard her. It’s out of my hands.” Roman grinned, leaning against a nearby tree trunk. “This should be fun.”

Logan stifled the urge to grab Roman’s sword and stab him with it. Instead, he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and turned away from Roman’s smirking, infuriating face.

What did the grape say when it got crushed? What kind of riddle was that? Grapes could not feasibly say anything when crushed. Or, indeed, at any time. Of course riddles often had double meanings or metaphors. What metaphor could a grape possibly be for? All Logan could think of were The Grapes of Wrath and Raisin in the Sun, neither of which could really apply. Or could they? Was he thinking about it from the right angle?

“Time’s up,” the sphinx announced.

Logan groaned. Roman was laughing harder. Why did he volunteer if he was just going to be mocked?

“Next riddle,” the sphinx said. “You have two more chances.”

“Hey!” Logan complained. “Don’t I get to hear the answer?”

The sphinx gave him a long stare and repeated, “Next riddle.”

“Fine,” Logan said, folding his arms.

“What did the skeleton say in court?”

Wonderful. Another nonsensical question. Logan ran through every possible angle he could as time ticked away. Finally he gave up and said “Is it ‘we all know each other, who are these clarifications for?’”

Roman laughed louder, collapsing to the ground and wheezing. Logan chuckled too.

“Don’t let emo nightmare hear you say that!” Roman finally said, wiping his eyes and standing back up.

“I won’t.” Logan nodded at the sphinx. “I’m guessing that’s wrong? What is the third question?”

The sphinx looked beleaguered. Finally she asked, “What’s the difference between a poorly dressed man on a bicycle and a nicely dressed man on a tricycle?”

“Do these even have answers?” Logan complained. “As in, answers that a reasonable person could know?”

“Of course.” The sphinx licked her lips. “Fifty seconds.”

Logan didn’t bother replying. What was the difference between a poorly dressed man on a bicycle and a nicely dressed man on a tricycle? There was a difference in both their outfits and their vehicles. Was there some kind of pattern between the clothes and the transportation? Why would any man be on a tricycle when a bicycle was faster and less childish? Was it reflecting the maturity level of the two men? Did their gender matter at all?

He was running out of time and he still couldn’t figure it out, what was he missing, he was supposed to know everything, Roman probably thought he was an idiot--

“I--” Logan scrambled for an answer. This didn’t matter, he knew that, the stakes were low. So why was his heartbeat increasing rapidly? “I don’t know.”

“Well.” The sphinx grinned. “What did the grape say when it got crushed? Nothing, it just let out a little whine.”

“What?” Logan asked blankly.

“What did the skeleton say in court? I cannot tell a fibia.”

Dread filled Logan’s stomach. “Oh, no, you didn’t--”

“What’s the difference between a poorly dressed man on a bicycle and a nicely dressed man on a tricycle? A tire.”

“A tire,” Logan repeated. “Wait, they were all--”

“Puns.” Roman shook his head, laughing. “They’re all puns, Specs.”

Logan turned to Roman. “I despise you and everything you stand for, I hope you know that.”

Roman opened his mouth, probably to continue mocking Logan for his failure. Then his eyes widened.

“Look out!”

Logan glanced back just in time to see the sphinx lunging at him, claws out. He threw himself backward. His hands hit the ground and the sphinx skidded to a stop in front of him, hissing wildly. Her amber eyes had grown red and veins bulged in her face.

“You failed,” she hissed. “Prepare to be eaten.”

“Logan!” Roman fumbled for his sword, racing towards them. Logan tried to draw his sword, but he was lying on the ground and it was hard to lever it from his sheath. The sphinx swatted at him and he barely dodged. Her claws slashed his shoulder. Logan bit down a yell at the stinging pain. He could already feel blood wetting his clothes. That would leave a stain, he thought idly as the sphinx came in for another pass, teeth bared.

“Logan!” Roman yelled again and he was between them, sword in hand, swiping at the sphinx. She hissed at him, a strangled sound low in her throat, eyes wide.

“You should not interfere,” she growled. “He is the one who incurred my wrath. Stand aside.”

“Not on my watch!” Roman waved his sword dramatically, keeping her at bay. Logan tried to get up, but his shoulder flared with pain. He whined. Roman froze, and proving that he had learned nothing from the last minute, turned around to see what was wrong.

The sphinx attacked him from behind, claws extended, ripping open his chest.

Logan screamed. Roman stumbled, falling to his knees and then to the forest floor.

The sphinx leered at him, blood staining her claws. Roman wasn’t moving. His stomach was a nightmare of slashes and blood, the same color as his ripped sash. She crept closer, peering at him.

"Don’t you dare touch him!” Logan yelled, stumbling to his feet. He gave up getting his own sword out and just grabbed Roman’s from his hand, ignoring the searing ache of his shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”

The sphinx’s legs bent and she was flying at him, mouth open wide. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and swung the sword. It bit into something hard and vibrations traveled up his arm, further irritating his shoulder. There was a loud screech, a thud, and liquid dripped onto Logan’s hand.

He cautiously opened his eyes.

The sphinx lay on the ground, hissing slightly. A long cut showed on its belly. Logan’s stomach twisted and he immediately dropped the sword, letting it hit the ground. He never enjoyed violence, even against a fictitious beast. But the sphinx seemed incapacitated.

Logan bolted to Roman’s side, looking him over. His eyes were closed and his whole shirt was soaked with blood.

“Roman!” Logan called, his voice breaking.

“Ow,” Roman muttered, prying his eyes open and blinking blearily at Logan. “Hey, Specs.”

Logan almost cried with relief. “How do you feel?”

"On a scale of one to ten?” Roman shifted and winced. “Like a 7.8.”

“You’re bleeding a lot,” Logan said, ignoring the blood on his own hands and examining the wound. “Do you have medical equipment here or should we return to the commons?”

Roman weakly snapped his fingers and the forest around them dissolved. The Imagination was back to a blank white canvas, a red-and-gold door hanging a few yards away. So close and yet, so far.

“Can you transport us to your room?” Logan asked.

Roman shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Right.” Logan looked Roman over. He was clearly in no shape to walk, even such a short distance. Additionally, moving him could cause further damage to his chest. But there were no options for care in the current area.

“Roman?” Logan asked, tapping Roman on the shoulder to keep his eyelids from drooping. “Please focus. I’m going to try and carry you.”

Roman chuckled. “What?”

“Carry you,” Logan repeated. “Please stay still and tell me if I’m hurting you so I can adjust.”

“Okay?”

Logan slid his hands under Roman, and imitating Roman’s usual carry, lifted him to Logan’s chest. One arm was under Roman’s knees, the other around his back. He waited for Roman to laugh or mock his adoption of ‘the prince carry’ that Roman often used to get Virgil to meals. Roman didn’t. He only curled into Logan’s chest, clutching at his shirt and tucking his head into Logan’s neck.

Logan took a deep breath, his shoulder throbbing. Carefully, he stumbled forward. Each step was a figurative odyssey. He had to shift Roman so he wouldn’t fall, lift his foot, lean forward carefully, and step down without jostling Roman. Then he repeated it, again and again and again. The door seemed leagues away.

But Roman was still curled in his arms, bleeding, his nose pressed against Logan’s neck and his hair tickling Logan’s jaw. Logan kept walking.

Finally, finally, he reached out and shoved the door open. He bolted into Roman’s room and placed him carefully on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief. Roman’s head was propped up on several pillows and Logan crumpled to his knees next to the bed. He allowed himself two seconds to rest before he was on his feet again, checking Roman over.

“Do you have medical supplies here?” Logan asked.

“Golden cabinet.”

Logan scanned the walls. There--between two Disney posters and near the mahogany desk. Logan opened it and pulled out several first aid kids.

“How often does this happen?” Logan asked, bringing all of them over for good measure.

“Not often,” Roman said, trying to smile. “But sometimes, you know. I’m not fast enough.”

“You should come to us,” Logan said, opening the kits. “We would be happy to help.”

“I know first aid!” Roman protested. “And Patton doesn’t, and Virgil would get freaked out, and Janus hates me, and Remus would probably make the injury worse.”

“And what about me?” Logan asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“What about you?” Roman asked bitterly. “You really want to babysit me all the time? You’re always saying you have places to be.”

Logan pressed his lips together. “Roman, your health and well-being is very important to me. Please, if this ever happens again, come to me.”

Roman looked more surprised than he should. Logan clearly hadn’t done a good job of declaring Roman’s worth, though in his defense, he was always afraid to compliment Roman. His true feelings might leak into the words, and Roman would surely be contemptuous if he found out how far Logic had fallen.

Focus. Roman had finally stopped bleeding, but his face was pale and Logan hoped he hadn’t lost too much blood.

“Take off your shirt.”

Roman’s face turned bright red. “What?” he spluttered.

“The wound is on your chest, correct?” Logan ignored the slight blush he felt on his own cheeks. “I need to wash it out. Take off your shirt. Or, actually, let me take it off for you. You shouldn’t move.”

It was pretty easy to remove the shirt. It had been split into several pieces by the sphinx’s claws. Logan tossed the bloody pile on the floor and got his first good look at the wound. Oh, thank Newton, the cuts were numerous and bloody but not life-threatening or extremely deep. Logan noticed many nicks and scars on Roman’s chest as well, which made his heart tighten in a rather irritating way.

Telling himself he would not let himself be flustered by staring at Roman’s chest, Logan started wiping away the blood with a rag. Roman clenched his jaw and balled his fists.

“If I’m hurting you,” Logan said, tossing the first bloody rag aside and reaching for another, “please tell me, Roman.”

“It’s fine,” Roman said airily. “Just stings a bit, is all.”

“If you say so.” After the remainder of blood and dirt was removed, Logan grabbed some soap and water. “This will probably sting, Roman.”

He dabbed at the cuts themselves, cleaning them. Roman hissed with pain, shoulders tight. The longest cut was almost four inches long, red and ugly. Logan cleaned it as carefully as possible, but Roman still whimpered.

“I know, it hurts,” Logan said softly. “I’m sorry. Just a little more and I’ll be finished, okay?”

Roman nodded jerkily.

Logan wiped the last of the blood. Pinching the inside of his glove and peeling both of them off, he tossed them in an empty trash can nearby. A new set of gloves and he was grabbing some gauze and bandages, eyeing Roman’s chest.

“I’ll need to wrap this around,” Logan said. “I think the easiest way for me to reach all the way around is to...um...”

“Do whatever, Specs.” Roman smiled. “I trust you.”

“Right.” Logan took all the gauze and bandages available, placed them on the bed near Roman, and stood up. He hoped that would be a good enough angle on its own, but he was still leaning over Roman. Well, it looked like there was no excuse. Carefully, Logan swung a leg over Roman’s legs, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Roman, once again, turned redder than his sash. “Um...Logan?” he squeaked. “You’re...you’re sitting on my lap?”

“Yes?” Logan unwound some of the gauze. “It allows the best angle. If this is uncomfortable, I can change my position.”

“No!” Roman stammered. “It’s--it’s fine! Cool! You keep doing what you’re doing!”

“Excellent.” Logan reached for his chest and started dressing the wound with gauze, wrapping it around his chest and securing it in place. “Does this hurt or is it uncomfortably tight?”

“No, it’s okay.”

Logan nodded. “That should help if the wound begins to bleed again. Please stay still while I bandage it up.”

Logan tried to ignore Roman’s eyes on him as he wrapped the white bandages around Roman’s chest. He went through several rolls, tying the loose ends together. Every few wraps he would check with Roman, who never had any complaints. Finally Roman was bandaged, and no blood had leaked through. Logan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

“You’re good at that,” Roman said, eyes unreadable.

“That’s why you should call me when you’re injured,” Logan responded, peeling off his gloves.

“I don’t get injured that often,” Roman protested. “Just when--

He stopped himself, but Logan understood what he was going to say.

Just when someone else gets in the way.

Logan stared at his hands, still covered with blood. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

Roman made a choked noise. “Logan, what--”

“I’m sorry,” Logan repeated. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the obstruction in his throat. “I failed and you got hurt, and that is my fault. So I’m...I’m sorry.”

Roman looked horrified. He tried to push himself up, but Logan placed a hand on his shoulder and made him lie back down.

“Logan, you didn’t fail--”

“It’s fine,” Logan said, turning away. “I'll go clean your clothes, I know how much you like that costume.”

“Logan, I’m sorry.”

Logan whirled. “What?”

“I didn’t want things to go this badly,” Roman pleaded. “I...I thought the sphinx would be fun, I didn’t know I’d mess up and get hurt, I just wanted to--spend time with you. And, I dunno, show off? You’re so smart and intuitive and you do your work so well, I just--I wanted to...impress you, I guess.” Roman looked away. “It was stupid.”

Logan couldn’t stop a big, goofy smile from spreading over his face. “You don’t--you’re not mad?”

“How could I be?” Roman laughed. “You slayed a sphinx, Logan. Couldn’t have done a better job myself.”

“Huh.” Logan reached out and brushed Roman’s hair from his face. “Roman?”

“Yeah?”

Logan glanced at the wound. “You’ll want to keep cycling through those bandages until you are healed. Please alert me every twelve hours and I can assist with them.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “So bossy.”

“I care about you,” Logan retorted. “Get used to it.”

But he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way Roman’s face lit up, like Logan had found the Unified Theory of Everything.

Then Roman frowned. “Lo, you’re bleeding!”

“Oh.” Logan glanced at his shoulder. “I suppose I am.”

“That won’t do!” Roman grabbed the first aid kit and levered himself to a sitting position. “Take off your shirt.”

Logan gave him a long stare and rolled up his sleeve instead.

“Oh no,” Roman said, staring at the cut.

“It’s fine, it’s only a scratch--”

“Shut up and let me help.” Roman dabbed at the wound with a cloth, placed some antibiotic cream on a large Band-Aid, and carefully pressed it to Logan’s shoulder. “There. That should be better, right?”

Logan frowned disapprovingly, hiding the happy glow in his chest. “You shouldn’t be moving around too much, Roman.”

“Just one more thing.” Roman pulled Logan closer and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “There.”

It was Logan’s turn to blush violently. “Wh-what?”

“I was kissing it better!” Roman said, a small smile on his face. He looked absolutely wonderstruck as he rubbed the Band-Aid, cupping Logan’s neck.

“Kissing it—” Logan huffed. “Roman, that’s a ridiculous idea! There is no medical benefit to kissing someone’s wound. In fact, it could have the detrimental effect of spreading germs—”

Roman smiled wider, not his usual glittering gleam but a soft crooked smirk. “You’re saying it didn’t work?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Roman, of course it didn’t work!”

“Well.” Roman slid his hand upwards and cupped Logan’s cheek. “I guess we’ll have to try again, won’t we?”

Logan forgot how to breathe. He probably looked foolish, with a blush spreading across his face and his mouth hanging open. Roman’s fingers stroked his cheekbone, rough but somehow not unpleasant.

Roman tilted his head. “Okay?”

For once, Logan was speechless. He swallowed and nodded.

Roman wrapped Logan’s tie around his hand and tugged him down. Their lips met.

It was a short, sweet kiss. Logan tangled his hand in Roman’s hair and Roman ran his thumb across Logan’s cheek. They pulled apart, barely, noses almost touching, staring at each other. Roman giggled and Logan did too, sporting big loopy grins.

“Specs?” Roman asked, pressing a kiss to Logan’s nose. Logan shivered.

“Yes?” Logan asked, trying not to sound as euphoric as he was.

“When I’m healed?” Roman kissed Logan’s jaw. “Can you come to the Imagination again? No sphinxes or monsters, just…us?”

With that large stupid smile on his beautiful stupid face…how could Logan say no?

General taglist (ask to be added!):

@most-likely-fandom

@the17thmeatball

@caffeinated-cryptid

@csi-baker-street-babes

Logince taglist as sourced from @the-taglist-repository:

@somehow-i-got-an-account

@silverobsidion-speaks

@a-fandom-trashdump

@k1ngtok1

@idontcareaboutcanon

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shy-violet-soul · 4 years

Text

The Itty-Bitty Babysitting Brigade

Title: The Itty-Bitty Babysitting Brigade Characters: Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega!F-Reader, Assorted Avengers Summary: A team of experts are ready to help Bucky with the twins. Warnings: fluffity fluffy fluff. A bad language word. Word count: approx. 2,400 A/N: This merry little band wouldn’t let me rest until I snuck a peak at how they do with the new pups! You don’t have to read part 1 & part 2, but you should.

A/N 2: a very big fluffy thank you to my 2 beta’s, @thesassywallflower and @pinknerdpanda. You ladies are super-fab - bless you for putting up with my text onslaughts!

This is a work of fiction based upon characters owned by the MCU. My work is not to be published elsewhere without my written permission.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. Before you and the twins darkened the apartment doorway on your first day home as a family, he’d created pup care schedules, matrices, and plans that would put Nick Fury to shame. The failure of the infants to follow said schedules, matrices, and plans gave him chest pains.

“Bucky, my love, it’s okay. They were all warm and cozy where it was dark and quieter. Here, it’s noisy and cold and bright. I’m sure they’re a little scared because everything’s so different. Crying is the only way they have to talk to us.” Then, you did it again - hand over his heart, blinking your tired but happy eyes up at him. “They’re so lucky to have a strong, brave daddy to help them feel safe.”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. After eight days of carefully crafted pup care plans being shot straight to hell, the soldier went back to his roots - guerilla warfare. Having spent decades perfecting the art of surveillance, he quickly learned the twins’ little tells that gave away possible maneuvers. Ruth Natalia, for instance, went back to sleep if she just rubbed her eyes with her fist. Rubbing her face into the blanket - imminent nap ceasefire. If Joseph Steven had the hiccups for longer than 3 minutes 18 seconds - prompt conflict escalation. Ever the tactician, Bucky quickly adopted the jarhead motto of ‘improvise, adapt, and overcome’ that allowed him to anticipate and quickly intervene. A swift pacifier tucked into Ruth’s mouth bought him an average 6 minutes extra peace time. Swaying Joey side to side tucked in his arm like a football was always a successful diversion. It’s when they joined forces in joint engagement that left him with palpitations and shortness of breath.

Watching you made it easier. Motherhood looked damn good on you. Even if you were covered in spit up and the clothes from two days ago. You showed him the best swaddle techniques, encouraged him to be unafraid while burping them (“they won’t break, Bucky”), and filled his phone with photos of him and the pups.

Even though Bucky grumbled that it had only been a few weeks, your willing daycare back-up Wanda had to get back to missions. The night before you were supposed to resume daycare duties, the babies engaged in full scale attrition warfare, including deployment of the famous Pincer movement.

Simply put, they ganged up on their mama and daddy.

Bucky’s heart broke when you sagged to the floor between their bouncy seats where they both shrieked like they were being tortured, and cried right along with them. You had nursed, and rocked, and walked, and bounced, and bathed, and sung, and nursed and swaddled and unwrapped and walked and vacuumed and nursed and nothing. Was. WORKING.

“I don’t - I don’t k-know what to d-do!” you sobbed as you held pacifiers to their mouths. Your red-rimmed eyes shone garishly, skin pinched and pale from pure exhaustion. Your nursing top hung raggedly off one shoulder, and your loose pants were stained from dinner two nights before. Both his omega and his pups were in need before him, an expert warrior and master assassin. He felt like he was gonna throw up.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. And an Avenger, dammit! His alpha snarled and snapped with anxiety - protect! Soothe! Fix! Kneeling down behind you, he wrapped you up in his arms, being careful to avoid your painful breasts, and purred into your neck. You and both babies paused in the moment; you quaked like a leaf against him as the pups snuffled, his calming scent of rosemary and sandalwood pacifying them for a moment. He didn’t know what the hell to do, so he did what any rational person would do. He lied.

“I know what to do. You’re going to go take a shower, and lie down and sleep. The babies and I are going downstairs to be with the daycare pups.”

Your lack of protest said more than any words as you wiped your nose on your sleeve. “C-can I just lie down here?” you croaked out pitifully. Bucky wavered for an instant before putting just enough alpha in his voice to get you moving.

“No, doll, you’ll wake up all sore. Go shower, go sleep.”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. The fact that he took enough equipment downstairs to satisfy a doomsday prepper wasn’t noteworthy in the slightest. The pups’ reactions, however, was. Parents were abandoned without a backward glance as they ran pell mell towards the occupied bouncy seat/swing contraptions.

“WAIT!” Heidi/Dimples the omega bellowed, freezing Chad/Lightning Bolt and Jeremy/Steve in their tracks. “Sanitize! Who knows what germs you’ve picked up out there!” she ordered, swiping the pump bottle and doling out globs while Bucky hurriedly took care of sign in. Bucky would later chuckle with you at the militant little omega refusing access to the babies until every pup had been liberally sanitized. The ooo’s and aaa’s, soft touches, and light distracted the babies as Bucky scrambled to get morning snack lined up. Then…

“Look at that! Baby Joey has the hiccups!” giggled Micah/Iron Hulk.

Shit.

“Mr. Barnes, sir? Ruthie keeps rubbing her face in her blankie,” Heidi advised.

Dammit.

Servings of apple juice globbed into sippy cups with no attention to equal servings as Bucky’s heart rate rose along with the volume of the twins’ fussing. When Ruth gave one piercing cry, Bucky ripped open two packs of graham crackers and dropped them on the table, ignoring the crumbling result as he sprinted back to the babies. Elaine/Warrior Princess had already figured out the Stark tech on the swings, but the smooth movements weren’t doing anything to mollify them. Joey joined in his sister’s cries, both little faces screwing up as they hollered. Seven pairs of pup eyes turned to look at Bucky expectantly.

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. The fact that he felt like vomiting was irrelevant.

“Hungry. Maybe they’re hungry,” he said more to himself as he stumbled to plug in the bottle warmer.

“Mmmm, I dunno. They don’t sound hungry,” Chad pondered, hands on his hips.

“How do you know? They’re still fresh out of the wrapper, they don’t know how to cry different.”

Chad scoffed at Elaine. “Because my mama is a baby-makin’ machine, that’s why! She says so all the time, and my dad’s sleeping on the couch till he gets some kinda appointment made. I got two little brothers and one little sister at home.”

Sera studied Ruthi seriously, bobbing along with the baby as she scrutinized. “He’s right, they’re not hungry. See? She’s just lonely.”

Bucky tried not to hyperventilate as he fished out two bottles of breast milk, bobbling one until he slammed it into the warmer. Distantly he saw the pups gather in closer to the babies, heard the murmur of certainty in the ‘ooooh, I see!’ that chattered through the room. While mashing buttons, he chanced a look over his shoulder when Micah declared,

“I know what to do!” But a mechanical beep of annoyance from the warmer took his attention and sent his pulse hammering in rhythm with the babies’ cries. Failure loomed over him like a towering tidal wave, his throat sticky with stress and hyperventilation. As his vision started to turn white at the edges, Bucky didn’t notice the activity behind him: Micah explaining the plan, Elaine leading Jeremy and Sera to move the big blue chair, Natalie running to the art supplies, and Chad and Heidi leaning over the babies.

Little hands grabbing at his arms knocked Bucky off his pins, the second bottle clattering from his hand. He almost took the blue chair down with him when Elaine and Jeremy tugged him into it, wooden feet groaning an inch or two across the floor in protest. Sera tossed the blankets previously covering the twins across his legs. Natalie appeared at his right, wobbling on a step stool and brandishing a pair of rounded safety scissors while Chad and Heidi clutched the screaming babies against their bodies.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Barnes! This won’t hurt a bit!”

Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man. The fact that there are now ten holes ripped into the arms of the big blue chair is immaterial.

Before Bucky could even free up a brain cell to respond, Micah grabbed the left side of his tshirt and pulled it taut, and Natalie sliced a cut from nipple to nipple like she ninja’d her way through toddler tap dance class. Micah then yanked the gap wide, and Chad and Heidi plunked the babies against his bare chest.

“There!” Micah and Chad chimed out victoriously. Bucky didn’t know what ‘there’ was. Or where. He was thoroughly occupied with maneuvering the two squalling, still very tiny babies against him.

“Son of a bitch!” he ground out.

“MIS-ter Barnes! You can’t use bad language words!” Heidi clapped her hands over the closest baby’s ears, glaring ferociously at him. Deaf to her scolding, Bucky yelped when Ruth’s face slid into his armpit and Joey slipped head-first towards the side. Sighing with exasperation, Chad climbed up to the left arm and clapped his hands on Bucky’s face.

“Listen. Calm down. You’re giving off all your bad alpha smells and freakin’ ‘em out!”

“Deep breaths, Mr. Barnes!” The little pups started coaching the Avenger, breathing in and out exaggeratedly until he followed their lead. Gradually, he noticed the scent of gunsmoke choking the air, causing more than one wrinkled pup nose. He forced himself to relax, his left arm chinking slightly as the plates shifted.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered to himself. Elaine’s head bonked him on the chin as she tugged Joey back into place, the baby flopping like a bobblehead before she climbed down to sit on the floor.

“Nobody knows what to do with kids, Mr. Barnes.”

Finally manuevering Ruth into place, Bucky tried to pay attention. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yup. My mama tells us all the time. ‘What the hell am I gonna do with you?’” Elaine quoted solemnly.

Jeremy nodded in agreement. “My daddy says parenthood is the toughest hood he’s ever been in. But I don’t know about that ‘cuz I never see him wear a hood, he only wears a ball cap.”

Both babies now lay cautiously secured in his hold. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off them as they still fussed and grizzled unhappily.

“Now what?”

Chad joined the little band crisscrossed-applesauced in front of Bucky. “The two p’s.” The little guy nodded as if to tell him to get busy. Like he wasn’t speaking in a foreign language at all.

“Which two p’s?”

Rolling his eyes and sharing a chagrined look with Elaine, Chad answered, “purr and pat. Bust out that legit purr and pat ‘em on their little hineys.”

Bucky swallowed hard around the still-pounding pulse in his throat and tried to purr; the sound started croakily at best. But as his alpha settled into the calming action, Bucky felt his muscles relax a hair. His eyes closed as he let himself just be in the moment - the tip-tup dance of their heartbeats against his thrumming warm beneath them, the gentle herby lavender and spiced vanilla of their scents gradually lifting to thread with his rosemary and sandalwood. And gradually realized he nor the babies seemed about to immediately explode.

When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the bright grins waiting for him.

“Good job, Mr. Barnes!” Heidi crowed, clapping happily. Micah offered him a double thumbs up to go with Sera’s chef’s kiss, while the others offered him proud, smiling nods.

“Just need to figure out the pat, and you got this!” Chad encouraged. “They just needed that skin to skin time.”

Jeremy was nodding vehemently. “I helped my mom with that when she was conzausted.”

“What’s conzausted?” Natalie wanted to know.

“It’s when my mom gets really tired.”

“Oh. My dad must get conzausted, too. He says having all us kids is like having a blender with no lid.”

Sera perked up, eyes wide with an epiphany. “That must be why my mom cleans all the time!”

Bucky felt one of his calf muscles cramp up, and tried to relax a little more. Ruth and Joey dozed, happily nuzzling round cheeks and tiny noses into his warmth. Their sleepy little sounds tugged a half-smile onto his face. When Bucky stole his gaze to the daycare pups, Chad gave him a pleased head bob. Unbelievably relieved pride sent more calm into his belly, and Bucky let himself relax even more as the children’s candy-coated happy scents filled him. They whispered and murmured in hushed tones, eager to help with their newest friends and their Sergeant Alpha.

Suddenly, Steve came somersaulting shield first in the craft room window, glass shattering and scattering. Sam splintered open the front door to the tune of pups screaming - all nine of them as the babies were yanked from their nap. Weapons drawn, they both scrambled around the room.

“Bucky! I got your 911 text. Where’s the threat?”

Bucky’s omega is a reasonable woman. The fact that she nailed Sam with a baseball bat was blown entirely out of proportion. The other fact that she kicked Steve in the balls so hard he cried was not.

An hour later, the daycare pups were in the upstairs living quarters, happily munching on popcorn to go with an impromptu ‘Phineas and Ferb’ marathon. Nat and Clint had carted away the incapacitated Captain and Falcon while Tony’s bots worked on door and window replacement. Clint nearly required medical attention himself when he laughed so hard at the ‘conzausted’ Mrs. Barnes’ terrified omega rampage that he fell off the porch. Bucky had taken your scolding shamefacedly, although he truly had no memory of sending the text. Abject panic will do that to you.

As he cuddled the calmed and re-sleeping babies against his bare chest, his omega dozing beside him on the coach, and a pile of pups and pillows before him, Bucky knew he could do this.

He knew they could do this. Even without schedules, matrices, and schedules.

#shy vy writes #alpha!bucky #Alpha Bucky Barnes #alpha bucky x omega reader #a/b/o dynamics #marvel fanfic #the itty bitty babysitting brigade

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bgn846 · 3 years

Text

Good things come in small packages FFXV Fic

Summary:

Prompto isn't sure what's going on with Noct, he's not heard from him all day. However, when he stops by to check Prompto is in for a big, or rather a small surprise.

Work Text:

Waiting for the bell to ring for the last class of the day was excruciating. Prompto was trying not to freak out, but it wasn’t working. His anxiety was due mostly to the fact that his best friend hadn’t answered any of his texts since yesterday afternoon. Noct would normally tell him if he was going to miss class, but so far he’d heard nothing.

Once the bell rang, his worry hadn’t eased up as Prompto raced from the school and towards the bus stop. He had to go see if Noct was home, at least that way he’d know if he was alright. Prompto had Ignis’ number but he was honestly too scared to call it. The advisor had assured him it was okay to call anytime but Prompto was still nervous. Ignis was an intimidating guy and he didn’t want to upset him.

The funny feeling in his gut was still making his chest tight. Something had occurred, he was sure of it, but Prompto was loath to figure out exactly why. Once you had knowledge it was hard to forget it. When Prompto entered Noct’s building, he could barely stand still as the guard checked him in. The elevator ride was torture as well, being trapped in a small space was bad enough but today the ride took forever.

When the doors swished open Prompto found himself running down the hall. Without pause, he pushed the buzzer at Noct’s apartment and waited. A noise erupted from behind the door followed by what sounded like Ignis’ raised voice. Prompto had no time to dwell on the matter when the door swiftly unlocked and whooshed open.

Nothing in his short life could have prepared him for what lay on the other side of the door. A small child not more than six was standing there smiling up at him. The thing that nearly caused his heart to stop was who the kid resembled. Dark hair, blue eyes, the unmistakable smirk he was sporting. However, that was impossible, this kid simply looked like Noct, it wasn’t him.

Unable to do much else besides stand and gape, Prompto flinched when Ignis suddenly appeared. “Hey,” he uttered weakly.

“Noctis, what have I told you about answering the door when you don’t know who’s there?” Ignis chided as he glared at the small child.

“But it’s funnnnnnn,” the little kid replied with a wicked grin as he bounced around hanging onto the doorknob.

“Good thing it’s your friend Prompto,” Ignis added. “Otherwise, you’d be in big trouble. What should we do now that he’s here? Shall we invite him in?”

The kid nodded and looked back over to him, “Wha’s your name again?”

“P-Prompto,” he managed in a hoarse whisper.

“Cool, wanna come in?”

Prompto couldn’t think of what else to say so he merely nodded and focused on not tripping over the threshold. It was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kid walking in front of him. A touch to his arm broke the spell and he looked up to see Ignis quirk an eyebrow.

“You seem pale; please tell me if you feel faint.”

Gesturing towards the kid, Prompto grimaced and shrugged.

“It’s only temporary, I’ll tell you more in a moment,” Ignis offered as they went towards the kitchen. “Noct, why don’t you sit down at the bar so I can feed you a snack?”

“Don’t stick anything icky in it like last time.” Noct chastised, I won’t eat it, no matter what you say!”

Ignis rolled his eyes in a familiar fashion and began rummaging around in the drawers, “So, would you like to explain to your friend what happened, Noct?”

“Oh yeah!” Noct shouted gleefully as he turned in the bar seat he’d somehow managed to climb up onto. “I have magic!” The smile on the kid's face was nearly too much, Noct looked so excited by this development.

Swallowing hard Prompto thought of what to say next, “Can – can you show me?”

“Uh, I dunno how, but Specs says I do, that’s why he’s bigger than me right now.” Noct enthused as he swiveled in the seat and held his arms out.

“Do you remember me?” Prompto asked with a hint of worry. None of this made any sense, but it didn’t stop him from trying to find some common ground.

Noct scrunched up his nose and shook his head, “Nope, but Specs says you’re my friend right?”

“Yes, yes I am. We go to school together.”

“What! I have to go to school? That sucks!”

“Language highness,” Ignis called out from near the fridge.

“I’m not going to school!” he pouted.

A long-suffering sigh erupted from Ignis as he turned and stared at Noct. “What a pity I was going to send you to school after our snack, but now you don’t want to go. What shall we do instead? I can make you clean up your room perhaps?” Ignis pondered with a smirk.

“NO! I’m not cleaning up my room either!”

Some things hadn’t changed it seemed. Still terribly confused as to what had actually happened Prompto tried again to find out. “Uh, why are you, why is he – Ignis?”

“Someone tested out a new magic technique and didn’t get it right,” Ignis announced calmly.

“How? What did he do?”

“What’d who do?” Noct asked with wide eyes. “I wanna know too!”

“Prompto and I are merely discussing another friend of ours, highness.”

“Which one? It’s not daddy, is it? He looked different when he was here earlier but he seemed okay.”

“Your father is fine, do you want a cookie or a granola bar?”

Noct instantly forgot his initial question and asked for the cookie. Prompto could only sit and watch as his friend happily munched on the item. It really was Noct, all his mannerisms were the same, even the way he ate. “How long will it last?” Prompto asked quietly, hoping Noct wouldn’t notice.

“The king suspects only a few days at most,”

“And there are no memories from before, right?”

“None, only what he had up until this point in life.”

“That is so trippy.”

“Agreed, though he seems to be happy eno--,” Ignis stopped mid-sentence when the door buzzed and Noct perked up. “Don’t,” Ignis admonished.

The advisor's words meant nothing as Noct giggled and jumped off the stool, half eaten cookie still in hand. Ignis went to make chase but stopped when he heard the door unlocking. It was someone with keys, therefore Noct was safe. Unsure as to whom it was exactly, Prompto waited to see what would happen next.

When a high pitched squeal erupted from the hallway, Prompto nearly got up to check. However, a second later Noct came bounding around the corner, a bright smile on his face. Gladio appeared right after, chasing the prince with an equally silly face.

“I’m gonna getcha!” he shouted as he chased Noct around the living room.”

Prompto realized that this must have been how Gladio acted when Iris was younger, always the big brother, no matter the circumstance. By the time the shield had captured Noct and flipped him upside down Prompto had a smile on his face too. Watching Noct laugh and kick his legs made him happy.

Gladio tickled and tossed Noct around for a few minutes until he went limp. “Too much for ya huh? That’s what you get for answering the door without Iggy,” he added shifting Noct’s now pliant frame around so he could hold him better. The prince easily melted into the embrace and rested his head on Gladio’s shoulder.

Ignis groaned at the statement, “You have to stop telling him that, he ran to open it earlier when Prompto arrived.

“Is that why he looked so excited?” Prompto asked finally understanding the behavior.

“Yes, he thought you were going to chase him like Gladio.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“Can I have another cookie?” Noct asked as Gladio sat down at the bar with him.

“No, you may not, you didn’t even finish the first one.” Ignis made a face when Noct whined pitifully and leaned away from Gladio to catch his shield's eye better.

“Gladdy, I want another cookie.”

“Oi, don’t ask me, princess, that’s Iggy’s decision not mine.”

Noct sighed and flopped his head back down on Gladio’s shoulder.

“I was going to suggest you play some video games with Prompto but since you’ve indicated you want a cookie instead, I’m not sure what to d--.”

“I wanna play video games!” Noct shouted as he squirmed to get away from Gladio’s hold. The shield eased him down to the floor and Noct took off towards the tv. “Somebody help me!” he added a second later as he stood staring at the controllers.

Realizing that this was his cue, Prompto got up and went over to Noct. “So uh, you wanna play some video games with me?”

“Yeah, can you make it work?”

“Sure thing, have a seat and I’ll get us up and running.” Prompto watched as Noct plunked down on the floor and watched eagerly as he selected a game. It became readily apparent that Noct couldn’t actually play any of the games he owned. He was too young. After some initial confusion, and general huffing and puffing Prompto landed on a good compromise.

Noct was now settled on his lap holding the controller but not actually doing much. Though he thought he was. Prompto had his hands wrapped around Noct’s and was mashing the buttons that needed it. Wondering if Noct would actually consider this playing, Prompto was relieved when his friend quickly started shouting with delight anytime they won.

This version of gaming lasted for about an hour until Ignis came over to pause their efforts. They had another visitor arriving soon it seemed. When the king showed up five minutes later, Prompto nearly bolted. He’d met Noct’s father a few times but this felt different, more private in a way. Noct instantly abandoned the game and ran over to see his father when the king walked into the living room.

“Daddy, I’m winning you should see,” Noct enthused as he collided with the man and sent them backward slightly.

“I’m glad to see that son, what else have you been up to?”

Prompto was treated with quite a show after that. Noct went into every little detail of his day thus far complete with a pantomime performance. Getting to see this side of his friend was truly surreal. Noct was so laid back most of the time, the kid before him was animated and got excited by everything. Though Prompto figured most kids his age probably were the same.

The king stayed for dinner and didn’t even make a fuss when the prince wouldn’t eat his vegetables. It was almost as if Regis was caught in another time, one that was far less serious and threatening. After dinner, they all attempted to keep Noct entertained. Video games worked a little bit but were soon abandoned in search of another cookie. Ignis wouldn’t relent but the moment he turned towards his father, Prompto knew Noct had won that round. The king easily agreed and smiled as his son ran around on a mini sugar high.

However, they were all about to get a reprieve. Noct began yawning. A lot. It appeared his never-ending stream of energy had its limits after all. Not that Noct noticed, mind you.

“I think someone’s getting sleepy,” Ignis announced as Noct stumbled over the ottoman and tried to hide his yawn.

“M’not! I’m gonna stay up and play more.”

“I doubt that,” Ignis added with a smirk.

“Son, come on, you’re tired, lie down and rest,” Regis tried as he leaned forward and held open his arms for a hug.

Noct shook his head but went and got a hug anyway, though he did squirm to get away when it became clear Regis wasn’t letting go. Prompto would swear he saw tears in the man’s eyes. He had to look away before he started crying too.

After a beat, Regis let go and Noct bounded off to pick on Gladio, he wanted another chase. The shield merely smiled and shook his head, citing his own tiredness as the reason. Scowling the youngster looked around the room. One quirked eyebrow from Ignis sent Noct as far away as possible from the advisor.

Noct was now staring at him and pointing to the gaming console again. “I wanna play more games.”

Glancing up Prompto waited for the faintest nod from Ignis before he crawled on the floor and turned on the system. Noct flashed him a toothy grin and threw himself in Prompto’s lap. Grunting at the added weight and Noct’s boney limbs jabbing his legs, Prompto pulled up the last game and hit play.

Prompto could tell the exact moment the prince fell asleep, his little hands went slack and his head listed to the side. Smiling, Prompto slowly put down the controller and leaned back slightly. “He fell asleep,” he whispered.

Gladio snickered and got up to see for himself, “Yep, out like a light.”

“What should I do?” Prompto asked not knowing if he should carry Noct to another room or simply sit there with his friend napping in his arms.

“You’re more than welcome to take him to his room Prompto. Though you may want to leave the door open in case he wakes up again,” suggested Ignis.

Nodding Prompto carefully got up and held Noct close. His friend looked so peaceful and happy. Unable to stop himself Prompto leaned down and nuzzled the side of his head against Noct’s soft black hair. That was when the little sleeping bundle in his arms suddenly became a lot heavier.

Where there had been a cute napping Noct, there was instead the grown version of Noct, still sleeping of course. Stumbling to the side due to the added weight Prompto cried out. He was about to fall over. More shouting followed and then Gladio was by his side taking the extra weight.

“You okay? You didn’t hurt your back didja?” Gladio checked as he manhandled Noct into his own arms.

“I’m alright,” Prompto managed as calmed down.

“Come on, you can help me get his stinky shoes off so he can sleep.” Gladio laughed as he turned and carted Noct off to his bedroom.

Spinning around revealed Ignis and Regis both smiling at him. “I’m glad you were able to see Noct in a different light today,” said Regis as he stood up.

“Yes, of course, your majesty, I was worried about him, but I’m happy everything worked out in the end.”

“As am I, though I will say I may try and trick him into messing up his magic training in the future if this is the reward I get.”

Prompto didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t sure if the king was kidding or not.

The king must have sensed his confusion and grinned, “I’m only teasing Prompto, go help Gladio. He’ll be upset if you leave him to deal with Noct’s stinky shoes alone.”

“Yes sir,” Prompto laughed before running away down the hall. He could hardly wait until Noct woke up so he could pick on his friend. According to what he’d heard magic status effects were odd things. Sometimes you remembered what happened and other times you had no idea. Prompto was so going to tease Noct about his wild ways!

#ffxv #fanfic #smol!noctis

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quirklessbunny · 5 years

Text

Bury Me

Day 2 of Whumptober: Explosions

This didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted to, but I’m trying not to get to far behind lol

Ch 1/? (Will probably be updated after October)

CW: Explosions, cursing/swearing, panic attacks, avalanches, exhaustion

Relationship: TodoDeku (only implied thus far)

Izuku is overjoyed when a trip to Switzerland is announced. They'll be learning skiing techniques that can help in snow rescues, should they ever find themselves needing them. In their last year of UA, it's the only thing left that Izuku thinks they need to learn. At least, for environmental rescues. His personal favourite was the back country hiking lessons, that was incredibly fun, and he can't imagine that back country skiing will be much different.

They're going to be put into groups for the trip. These groups, Aizawa explains, are for safety. They'll get more information when they arrive in Switzerland, but their groups will be posted early the next morning. Aizawa hands out information packets, then goes and flops down on the floor behind his desk, leaving them to read and talk amongst themselves.

Izuku smiles happily, turning to his friends. “This is amazing, we'll finally be able to say we're certified to rescue in any environment. One step closer to being the best heroes we can be,” he says, smiling wider. “And, I've heard that the teams in Switzerland are headed by the snow hero, Frost! He can control snow to an extent, and he usually uses it to slow avalanches to give civilians time to get away. I read that avalanches can move up to 130 kilometres an hour after only six seconds.”

“Yes, Midoriya, that is exactly why we need to learn the safest way possible to deal with back country snow rescues. Beacons and avalanche bags can only go so far in preventing deaths.” Iida smiles at him. “Leave it to Midoriya to already know about the lead rescuer. I have no doubt this trip will be both informative and fun.”

Izuku nods, smiling wider. That night, he double checks the packing list before putting his duffel together. He can't believe he will be meeting Pro Hero Frost, it's nearly a dream come true. A few years ago, he never would have guessed he'd be here now, but he's unbelievably proud of how far he's come.

With this certification, he's just one step closer to where he knows he can be. The number one Pro Hero slot is just calling his name.

Going to sleep that night is difficult, but he knows that sleeping will make it come even faster. The next morning, he crowds the bulletin board with the rest of the class, looking between the different posters for his name. 'Group 3: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Uraraka Ochaco'. Izuku lights up when he reads the listing. Three of his best friends. It's definitely going to make the activities twice as fun.

He wonders why they were selected this way, though. Is there something to do with their quirks that make them a particularly good set? He knows his speed would be a good in the event of an avalanche. He can move quickly, and it makes sense why he and Iida are on different teams. Theoretically, the heat from Katsuki's palms would help with unburying someone, but only cautiously, and with the hope that they don't accidentally trigger another avalanche or burn the victim. Ochaco would definitely be an asset, though it's still only theoretical, she could lift the snow away from large patches an assist in removing the snow faster, increasing the odds of the victim surviving. Eijiro's hardening quirk would also be amazing for digging.

“-ku. Deku. Deku!”

Someone yelling his name breaks through his thoughts, making him look up.

“H-huh? Sorry, Kacchan, I was just thinking.”

“Yeah, I know. We all know. We all <i> heard </i> what you were thinking about, Deku.” Katsuki gives him a slight smile, then shoves his hand against the side of Izuku's head. “It's a good thing you don't walk around thinking dirty thoughts, everyone would know just what kinks you're into, shitty nerd. Aizawa said we're all supposed to get into cars to head to the airport now, so go get your bag.”

“Oh thanks!”

The ride to the airport is short, and a bit of excited anxiety builds in Izuku's chest. This is actually happening, he thinks. It's amazing! He wants to sit next to Katsuki, but he flopped down with Eijiro, so he snags Shoto and pulls him to a set of seats with what should be a good view.

“What do you think Frost is going to be like in real life? I always try to imagine meeting the pros but it's always different from what I think it will be like. For example, meeting All Might was kind of depressing. I mean, for a bit he wasn't really the guy I saw on tv, he spent a lot of time in his smaller form when speaking to me, but when he was All Might, he was everything I ever imagined he would be. I think Frost is going to be what the news reports say about him, but unless an avalanche happens, I doubt we'll get to see the full scope of his quirk. And I'd be alright with that, cause I don't want anyone to get hurt.”

Shoto hums in thought. “I dunno. I guess as long as he's not like my father, completely two faced, then he's pretty cool.” He likes Izuku's passion for heroes, even if he doesn't share it. He sets his hand on Izuku's and smiles slightly. “I'm going to nap for a little while, but I would like to hear what you have to say about Frost.”

Izuku smiles and nods. “Alright. It's a pretty long flight, we'll have plenty of time,” he says. It was almost 26 hours, from what he remembers. He's probably going to sleep as well. The itinerary says they'd land, head to the place they're staying, which was about an hour drive, and then they'd get to sleep for a while, since walking on avalanche terrain while exhausted isn't a good idea. Izuku practically plasters himself to the window as the plane takes off, eyes shining with excitement.

This is absolutely so cool!

And it is, for the first few hours of the flight. He watches All Might movies on the little screen affixed to the seat in front of him, he plays on his phone and reads a little. He even does his hand exercises, but it becomes incredibly boring. He's trying not to move too much, because Shoto's head is resting on his shoulder and he doesn't want to wake him.

Twelve hours into the flight Izuku is shifting every few moments, unable to disperse the energy coursing through him. He gets up and walks up and down the aisle of the plane, wringing his hands and muttering to himself about different heroes. A few people stop him to make sure he's alright and yes, he is. He just hasn't been on many planes before and long flights are hard on him.

He's sitting with his face pressed to the window when they enter Swiss airspace. He bounces a little in excitement, patting Shoto's arm quickly, then moving to patting his leg. “Look Sho, it's there, it's there,” he says happily, hand slapping down on Shoto's knee a little harder.

And Shoto smiles and nods, leaning over him to see as well. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he whispers, setting his chin on Izuku's shoulder.

Izuku blushes darkly, turning his head to look at Shoto. He's not used to that kind of contact still, but he relaxes into it and nods, looking through the window again.

“The Alps are supposed to be absolutely gorgeous. I can't wait to see them. The place we're going is near a small town, I hope we get to spend some time in it. I want to get a present for my mama and d- All Might.” Izuku smiles, face still pressed to the window during the entire landing. The excitement from before hits him full force again, and he's bouncing in his seat. He doesn't even feel tired, despite being awake as long as he has been. He gets off the plan, duffel slung over his back as he looks around at the little trinket shops in the airport.

Aizawa ushers them along quickly, they have a schedule to keep after all. He doesn't mind, he's more focused on what they're going to get to do next.

Izuku can't sit still in the bus, he's wiggling around and patting his own leg and Shoto's leg, trying to get some of the energy to disperse. He quickly finds that the excitement is almost overwhelming and breathing becomes a little hard. He turns to look at Shoto, eyes wide as his chest feels tight. He grips his leg, mind slowing.

It's too much, too much everything. He can't seem to breathe right. His hands feel foreign as he drags them over his face, pulling down on the skin of his cheeks. He thinks he can faintly hear someone talking to him, trying to get his attention.

He can't focus on the sound.

Everything feels muted as he gasps for air, his chest tight and uncomfortable. He scratches at his cheeks and wrists, wanting to ground himself, it's not helping. He closes his eyes tightly, tears flowing down his cheeks.

When he finally manages to breathe properly again, he can feel everyone's eyes on him.

He's so embarrassed, he hasn't worked himself up like that since he was a kid. He's had panic attacks, but this wasn't even that. Izuku assures everyone that he's alright, then turns to look out the window, hoping deeply that the topic is dropped.

The hotel coming into sight is a relief. He wants to drop into a bed and just sleep this off, now. Tomorrow will be better. When he has an actual objective, it's a lot easier to organize his thoughts to prevent himself from overloading like he just had. Izuku stands up and heads inside, waiting for their room assignments.

Bakugou Katsuki and Izuku Midoriya, room 18. He takes his key and heads up to the room, dropping his bag by his bed and just flopping down. He's barely aware of someone else coming in as well before he's completely out.

The next morning, he heads downstairs and eats a quick breakfast with the rest of the class before they file into a room full of tables. Each spot has a backpack and a few different types of gear on it. The maps and compasses they already know how to use, but there's a weird electronic Izuku has never seen before. He doesn't touch anything yet, he doesn't want to screw anything up.

A few minutes after everyone settles down, Aizawa steps to the front.

“No one is going out on the snow today. Today we're learning how to use everything in front of you in a snow scape, how to put skis on, how to recognize an avalanche zone and the safest way to move across them, and more. I'm going to turn you guys over to Frost's assistants. I expect you to respect them more than you do me and give them your full attention. Remember that any wrong move in a snow scape could ultimately end with you killing the person you're trying to rescue. Don't let that happen.” Aizawa finishes speaking then walks to the back of the room, slumping down in a chair. This whole jet lag thing has him completely exhausted, Izuku thinks.

Izuku pulls out a notebook, looking up towards the front again. Two women are standing there, both dressed in what he assumes are their suits for rescues. In case of emergency, he guesses. He doesn't recognize either of them as pros, wondering if maybe they're underground pros like Eraserhead.

The class is long, but informative. Izuku has several pages of notes on the matter, and a full understanding of how to use all the equipment. That is, except for the skis. It's awkward to just stand in skis without snow, he thinks, but it's necessary so they can see everything that these skis do. They're shown how the breakaway works, then they're brought outside so they can practice a few different techniques in a safe zone.

Izuku is completely exhausted by the time the day is done. He sits at the table and slowly eats, legs exhausted in a way they never have been before. Not that he's complaining, it's a lot of hard work in the name of becoming a hero, but sometimes that hard work doesn't feel very rewarding. Like when his legs are aching and numb.

By the time he heads to bed, Katsuki is already asleep in the other bed. Not that he minds much, he's not interested in talking either. Not right now, anyway. He's too tired to stay awake. He collapses into bed, sleeping on top of the blankets once more.

When he opens his eyes again, he doesn't want to move. God, he's so sore, but he peels himself off the bed to shower. When he steps out, he starts to shiver a little bit. It's so cold here, he thinks. He hopes that Katsuki's quirk isn't messed up by this.

He'd desperately regret hoping that.

Breakfast is quick, no one eating as much as they really could, too excited to get out onto the snowpack again. The room is buzzing with excited talking as groups come together, snow gear and packs pulled on quickly.

Izuku just listens quietly as he clips his beacon onto his backpack. Frost brings them all back together, leading them outside and helping them put their skis on. After a quick safety speech, they're sent up into the snow.

Izuku slides forward, testing himself, then slides himself forward. “Alright, how do we want to walk? The person at the end is most in danger of getting swept off by an avalanche, so I think Ochaco or I would be the best option, since we both have the most chance of getting out of the way if it happens. We should also stay close, we don't want to lose one another.”

Katsuki hums in thought. “It would make sense if Eijiro were in front. His quirk would help for digging the best, and he should be out of the way. Ochaco after him, and then me, and then you. Ochaco can float herself and Eijiro if she has to, and I could probably propel myself up with you, but if the cold stops my quirk, then Izuku can run us out of the way. We'd each be paired up and not getting too far away from our partners.”

The others agree, and they head up the mountain.

Soon, Izuku's team is making their way through the practical part of the exam. They're doing a good job, digging up the mannequins and setting them on a 'medical square'.

At least it was going fine.

Until a villain appeared. One that Katsuki recognized immediately. “Hand job? I fucking...I fucking thought you got arrested forever ago,” he growls, sparks flying off his hands. “No worries, though, I'll put your ass right back behind those bars. It's where you belong.” He launches forward, snow flying up under his shoes. He sets off an explosion towards Tomura, knocking the creepy fuck backwards. A little down the mountain he hears a scream of his name.

A deafening crack startles him. It's like nothing he's ever heard before, and the ground below him crumbles and cracks, like a pane of glass. He panics, blasting himself up and way, further up the hill, before remember Izuku. He was below him on the mountain.

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foul-fortune-feline · 5 years

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Aren't u supposed to post abt ur life or smth on this site

Well here goes.

I've had a less than great past few days. I had my best friend nearly throw away much of what was keeping her safe, to which I responded, in my desperation, almost as poorly as I could've imagined.

The next day started great. I went to a job fair and made some very promising connections.

It ended poorly. Someone in the transitional house I was living in didn't like me. Let's call her Aleph. Aleph came up to me while I was talking with a staff member, and said some ridiculously ironic shit, telling me not to interrupt her while talking to staff to bitch at her (as she did exactly that, despite I'd been avoiding her?) Anyway, things escalated.

She grabbed me by the hair, pulled me out of my seat, and shoved her face in mine. Threatened me with murder. And I learned something about myself during this encounter. I could think of a few ways to get out of the situation. First, I went through what to say. I tried thinking of many different things but none of them were capable of defusing the situation. So flight was my next option. I would've tried to run had she not had my hair (despite being cornered). I thought of ways to make her release me. I could've knocked her to the floor, broken her arm, headbutted her in the nose. All these things would've been near certain escape almost unharmed, for me. I filed them as "very last ditch ideas". I ended up going with the stupid one I'd only seen in media.

Assailant grabs victim, in much the same fashion as she was me. Victim spits, assailant drops victim to wipe face, victim has a chance to run.

"My best chance" I thought. Completely uncertain of the viability, but no real harm caused to the very person threatening to kill me. That was the concern.

It didn't work. She immediately threw me to the ground, still holding my hair, and started beating me in the face with her knee. By the second blow I already knew if I turned amd kicked of a nearby desk I could easily throw her to the ground. A chance to escape. And an immediate nonoption. "What if she hit her head, or I broke something?"

Why?? I couldn't even tell you. But as she continued to wail on my face with great brutality, while telling me "If we were outside right now I'd kill you", I sat, knowing exactly how to escape the situation but not even attempting for fear of damaging someone.

I'm no saint, but apparently I'm a pacifist. To a fault in some interpretations, while others have praised me for it. I personally don't really know how to feel, but I defo want to learn some de-escalation techniques.

So I couldn't throw a punch to save my life, right? And I'm too damn dumb to know how to get out of such a situation otherwise. Well I got kicked out of my housing for it. Yea. Because of the spit. I dunno abt you, but that seems like a possibly misguided attempt at self-defense, in which I was more concerned about my assailant's health and wellbeing than my own.

So now, I'm going to be put out on the streets. With said agressor. I was terrified. How could I sleep at night? I turned to the one person I knew I was capable of harming. I hadn't made it to the edge of the first story railing by the time I was brought to the ground by a member of staff.

I don't know if I would've done it. I doubt it. I really want to live, and sure I was terrified but I'm pretty sure I just wanted to see if even that was available as an escape route. As mentioned, it wasn't. But another had opened, of sorts.

I answered the cop's questions honestly, and he said he couldn't take me in as I didn't meet criteria for a 51-50. So the case manager for the program suggested I talk to someone. I answered essentially "Yes??? Of course??????? Trauma???"

And so he took me to a mental facility and I swear fast talked me into there. I had no one to talk to. We weren't allowed erasers, so I couldn't draw.

I tried talking to some of the folk there but those who weren't yelling and banging on the walls (getting a good few anxiety attacks out of me and a couple full on panic attacks) would either hear completely different words than I said, or incessantly misgender me, or only talk about sexual experiences in disgusting detail.

I met somebody awesome the last day I was there. But for most of the first two I had TV and sleep as company, along with staff who were scarcely receptive to conversation.

At the end of the second day I was going stir crazy and finally got some contacts out of my phone so I could talk to a friend. I sobbed so hard through most of the conversation I soaked a good portion of my shirt.

I got out, and I'm doing a helluva lot better. I've got a bed for the night, I was able to shower, fresh clothes, study, watch the latest episode of Netflix's Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj, study. But I've got no idea where I'll sleep tomorrow.

And I have to carry two suitcases and a backpack everywhere I go (along with my purse, which purse + suitcase = hell)

I've filed a grievance against the handling of the situation, especially with the times Aleph had openly threatened me in front of staff and how I'd pushed for a conflict resolution workshop or something similar. But until that goes through I'm vulnerable.

I have $22 and no credit card (plus debt). I've applied for GA, meeting on Wednesday.

I need to:

A) Find somewhere to sleep

B) Avoid cops

C) Avoid Aleph (esp in unsurveilled areas)

D) Be interview-ready, should the need arise

E) Keep all my stuff safe

I dunno what to do, really. I'm going to spend as much time looking for resources as I can, but I really don't know what to do.

If by some miracle any of my couple dozen or so mutuals have any advice I'd love to hear it. I live in Sacramento, CA. Honestly a safe place to store my shit alone would be a miracle.

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lily-liegh · 5 years

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For the writing ask~ 1, 2, 11, 13, 14, 18, 22, 27, 28, 30, 39, 40, 48! If that's too many then feel free to choose at will.

not too much at all!

1. What made you start writing?

stories to tell! ever since i was little, i’ve had a strong imagination, and one day i just started writing what i saw and did. i wrote a lot too to help me process the world around me, so if i didn’t understand something, i’d write about it until it made more sense.

2. How old were you when you started writing?

elementary school, maybe 8 or 9. i picked up the writing skill quickly, and so once i started writing i just kept telling stories. i used to write all the time in my classes so as to not get bored, and all through recess and lunch i’d lie in the grass and write too.

11. What’s your favorite book?

urg, so hard to pick ~ but what sticks out for me right now is Un Lun Dun by China Miéville. i wrote a report on it in high school once, and i’d read it beforehand, and i dunno it’s just a very inspiring book about the Unchosen One with a strong message on environmental toxicity and taking care of the planet (the heroes fight the Smog)

13. What’s your favorite trope?

established relationship or sickfics (the ones where someone just gets a cold/flu and gets taken care of, not like cancer fics). i am weak for both and, if i ship the established ship or there is a caretaking chapter, i’ll actually read a non-ygo fic (very very rare for me)

14. What’s your least favorite trope?

besides any sex or kink fics, i’m really not keen on “how much pain can we put a character through?” / whump fics. i’ll read fics about characters in dire situations and characters in unhealthy places, but a fic that’s just straight up “there is no hope for this character everything sucks” just makes me feel sad.

18. Are their any topics you don’t feel comfortable writing about?

probably any fic with a religious tone bc i’m not familiar with any religion and i’d be worried about writing a fic and getting something wrong. also just plain sex - i can’t read sex, so i can’t write sex either.

22. How do you deal with writer’s block?

change the story to something i want to write. if there’s a scene i don’t like, then who’s to say anyone else will like it? so i just swap it for something i do like bc then i’ll have much more passion and drive while writing and i always hope that shines through in my work

27. What time of day do you usually write?

mornings and afternoons are best for me; anytime after 9 pm and i get really sleepy. that said, on the rare occasion i can start writing at about 2 am and actually get work done (but i so regret it the day later when it’s 5 am and i still have Stuff to Write)

28. How much planning and/or research do you do before you start writing?

planning, plenty! i have detailed notes of how i want my stories to progress, and while i occasionally shift plot points as i write, the bare bones of my work stays the same. research i’ll only do if i needs to be done. if i’m writing a topic that i can’t just BS, then i’ll research it, such as how long someone can stay alive after a stab wound or general parental techniques in Japan. but since Den City is a fictional world, i only ground parts of it in Japanese culture (and i’ve researched that plenty ahead of time). so Den City has D-Boards and parks and is very much a fictional universe in my fics, but there’s culture and custom to it that it doesn’t feel like it could also be California.

30. Have you ever dreamt about your characters?

so, so many times - and if i binge through at least five or so episodes of an anime, i’m guaranteed to dream about it that night

39. What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever written about?

hm, i dunno. i wrote about unhealthy relationships once before (bekuyuu with Vector hiding all of the letters Yuuma received so that Yuuma thought his friends all forgot about him and that only Vector remembered). but the more i think about it, nothing really “weird” - more unsettling

40. What is the most random fact you’ve ever learned while doing research for a story?

though i already knew this, it was nice for the internet to reaffirm for me that north america has places like cuddle cafes and that that’s not just a “cringey japanese thing”, that in fact in Japan those places are no frequented by the general population and are seen as just as strange as they are in North America. for some reason westerners just seem to think that Japan is full of “weird things” when in fact the majority of those places are small niche interest spots and not a common place for everyone.

48. What’s the last sentence you wrote?

“When he peeks through the front window, lifting the window covering, he spots two other food trucks parked nearby: a street-food shop and an Indian curry truck.”

thank you for the asks, poyo!!

#poyomon2 #lily answers

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kachinnate · 6 years

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so my theatre director asked me today if i could cry on cue and i told her no but that i’d work on it and bruh it turned out to be so much harder than i realized for no reason???

like ya bitch be crying on the daily so i assumed it wouldn’t be too hard but asdshdkdkd

and like i read a couple things and watched a few videos and have concluded that there’s p much two ways to go abt it - the more common way being thinking about something rlly upsetting and personal and making yourself cry over it, or various techniques that make you Naturally(tm) cry, and the former sounds like.... rlly unhealthy, esp. when the long term goal is to be preforming on stage. it just doesn’t sound Safe to be thinking about something genuinely upsetting when you’re supposed to be in the moment like that,,, PLUS LIKE i dunno that only sounds like it’d work a couple times before you’d get super numb to it?? the second way is a little less Mentally Exhausting but harder to pull off because you have to trick yourself into crying without recalling your childhood traumas |’’D like what i’ve been doing is trying to make all the faces that i typically do when i’m crying or about to cry , as well as breathe rlly shallowly like i do when i’d be crying, and like stare at a wall and try not to think abt the fact that you’re fakin it, and honestly?? i almost got it to work a few times, i came out of it w/ wet eyes but i can’t actually make tears yet and it’s just ahaSJDHDUDH

i think it comes down to just finding a middle ground i guess? being super in character and in the moment that u can feel their emotional Splintering + doing the other techniques at the same time, i just don’t know how i’m gonna juggle all that PLUS lines PLUS blocking ofdnd

#im not sure if any of y’all do theatre at the moment but #if u have experience or tips or anything..... and u wanna help a fellow out.......#id be a big appreciation #show biz babey #garbage.txt

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four-white-trees · 6 years

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Hustle and Grind (part three - final)

Szilb gave DJ a rather curt send-off, but he still graciously provided the coordinates to his weapons dealer. DJ’s ship may not have been space travel-ready, but it managed to get him to a surprisingly secluded piece of Nar Shaddaa a couple thousand kilometers from Szilb’s home.

Touching his ship down at the edge of what looked like a very large junkyard, DJ prepared himself to meet with this dealer. He had a blaster but no ammo for it; nonetheless, he stuck it in its holster. When fortune favored him, DJ didn’t need ammo.

As of lately, fortune had not looked on DJ kindly. Still, fortune’s nature was change, and surely DJ was due for a change in fortune any time now.

Leaving his heavy coat in the ship, DJ stepped out of his ship and into the muggy air. He wasn’t sure he had ever stopped sweating since his sauna session with Szilb, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop sweating again. Perhaps he would gradually become a slimy slugman himself if he kept this up. The absurd thought made him smile as he walked into the junkyard.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around. No one sentient at least. Very large, slimy, ugly rodents rummaged through the metal scrap piled to the sky around the huge lot. DJ eyed several scrapped parts sticking out of the piles, recognizing them as useful for his own ship, or as rare pieces he could no doubt either use or sell for a pretty penny. Certainly this lot had to have some sort of security, even if he hadn’t encountered it yet. Nonetheless his fingers were feeling mighty sticky…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and DJ spied a man rummaging through some scrap a few hundred yards away. He headed toward the man, but froze when he got closer and the man straightened up.

He was entirely naked. A human, his skin looked well-tanned from exposure. He was in exceptional shape, certainly not anyone DJ would want to tangle with hand-to-hand, clothed or not. The man was bald—in fact, his whole body looked pretty hairless, and he possessed a robotic right arm.

The man spotted DJ, and he approached. As he got closer, DJ saw he was young—probably half DJ’s age or more, although his skin looked to be aging prematurely.

“Whach’a want, stranger?” the man asked, his voice thick with a drawl.

DJ just met the man’s eyes and tried not to think about anything below his face. “Szilb sent-t-t me. About w-w-weapons.”

“Szilb, huh?” the man said. He put his mechanical hand to his chin in a thoughtful way. “Right, Szilb did send a message. Well. What’s yer name, stranger?”

“Call me DJ,” DJ responded.

“Call ya, huh?” the man said, eyeing DJ closely. “So that ain’t yer name?”

“It’s the name I g-g-go by,” DJ said, maintaining a light air despite all his mental alarms going off about this guy.

“Ah! I follow ya now,” the man said, smiling. It was not a comforting smile. Every tooth in his maw was sharpened to a point. “Well, then ya can call me AJ.”

“AJ. Quite a c-c-coincidence,” DJ said.

“My man, there ain’t no such thing,” AJ said, moving beside DJ and putting his robotic arm around DJ’s shoulders. “Come along now. We’ll have some ice-cold tea and we can talk about all them weapons ya want.”

They walked along the junkyard together. DJ wanted nothing more than to pull away from AJ, but AJ held him in a vice grip. Only when they had moved deeper within the junkyard to what looked like a makeshift hut built of metal sheeting did AJ release DJ.

“Don’t-t-t get many visit-t-tors, huh?” DJ asked as the nude man strode into his hut.

“Not as many as I’d’a like,” AJ called. “But the boss provides.”

DJ didn’t have time to wonder what that meant when AJ emerged from his hut holding an extremely large sledgehammer. At first DJ figured it was for busting apart scrap—until he realized AJ was swinging it at DJ’s head.

DJ dropped down, barely missing getting his head caved in, and he scrambled away. AJ was on him in a flash, moving way too fast in the humidity. DJ grabbed the shaft of the sledgehammer, grappling with AJ over it for a moment before AJ pushed DJ up against a pile of shredded sheet metal. Sharp ends pressed into DJ’s back, tearing the material of his shirt and into his skin.

AJ was bigger and heavier than DJ, and he pressed down on him more, positioning the shaft of the sledgehammer right over DJ’s throat. DJ chanced to let go of the shaft and groped behind him for the first piece of junk he could grasp. He thrust whatever it was into AJ’s shoulder, cutting his own hand in the process, but it worked—AJ howled in pain and DJ was able to push him away. DJ pulled away from the junk pile and put some distance between himself and AJ, although he didn’t dare turn his back to the madman.

AJ was panting, bright red blood oozing out of his shoulder. There was a bloody handprint on his chest where DJ pushed him, and AJ touched the handprint, licking the blood off his finger. “You taste purty good, boy,” AJ drawled. “I’ll haveta send the boss a thank-you card for ya.”

Drawing his blaster, DJ aimed it at AJ, whose eyes went to the blaster immediately. “I ain’t on th-the menu,” DJ growled. AJ dropped the sledgehammer and held his hands above his head—a rather empty gesture for someone nude, but appreciated nonetheless—but he smiled again.

“You got fight in ya,” AJ said, delighted. “I like a good fight.”

DJ knew exactly where his ship was. He saw the path they had taken clear in his mind. He just needed to get there. AJ’s smile remained in place, a creepy grin plastered onto that tan, insane face. “You’re g-g-gonna have to make new d-d-dinner plans,” DJ said, then turned tail and ran.

AJ laughed, a screaming peel of a cackle. DJ didn’t need to look behind him to know AJ was giving chase. Lungs burning, DJ ran as fast as his legs would take him, leaping over scrap metal on the ground and ducking under places where the scrap stuck out ready to behead or skewer him.

His ship came into sight, and DJ doubled down on his sprint. He heard AJ’s heavy footfalls close behind him, but he made it home. DJ jumped into his ship, slammed the hatch closed and ensured it locked. He jumped into the pilot seat, panting, black dots in his vision. He was so dizzy from exhaustion he didn’t immediately realize nothing happened when tried to power the ship on.

There was a grinding, crunching sound, and a particularly huge rodent crawled out of a vent, circuits in its drooling mouth. DJ stared at the creature for a moment, his exhausted brain catching up to the fact that his ship had been eaten from the inside.

A loud bang jolted DJ back. AJ was at the hatch, slamming that sledgehammer into it. DJ could see where the metal bent with every swing. He glanced around, his mind racing. Truth be told, DJ had “picked up” this ship from the selection of ships around the Nar Shaddaa casinos. Evidently he’d chosen a pacifist’s ship, as there was nothing in that tiny thing to use as a weapon beyond a wrench. Hardly match for a nutcase brandishing a sledgehammer.

The hatch buckled, and DJ saw AJ reach in and began to pull the metal door away. DJ was cornered, but he was not defenseless. It was immensely difficult, in such as state he was in, for DJ to focus on the energy surrounding AJ, particularly at his throat.

Somewhere in his mind, there was a part of him that felt a wave of guilt. He heard the whispers of people from a lifetime ago warning him against what he was about to do. The old mechanisms created by years of training were still there, as strong as ever.

But those people no longer existed. The person DJ used to be no longer existed. Now it was either DJ or AJ, and DJ knew there could only be one outcome to this situation.

As soon as AJ pulled that hatch off its hinges and put his bald head through the opening, DJ reached out through the Force and squeezed.

Lyra pushed that little skip as fast as it could go, and maybe even faster. It had been hours since DJ left. In all likelihood, the Butcher had already had his way with him. Her stomach tightened at the thought. She had to hold onto the hope that DJ was as much of a survivor as he always boasted of being.

She had become suspicious when she had observed Szilb composing a message to his nephew Ungu. He had recorded it in Huttese, and Lyra had picked up enough of it to know he wasn’t talking about securing the weapons Ungu had asked for.

After Szilb had retired for the night, Lyra wormed her way into his computer. Funnily enough, the techniques she had used to bypass the security protocols were things she had picked up from DJ over time. She had managed to find the coordinates Szilb had given to DJ.

Szilb had sent DJ right to the Butcher’s doorstep.

The Butcher was Szilb’s go-to man for anyone he wanted taken care of. Lyra had no idea where Szilb had met such an extremely insane and dangerous person, but anyone Szilb sent to the junkyard never came back.

The junkyard was in view, and Lyra only gunned the engines of the skip more. It shuddered a little but held steady as she scanned for lifeforms on the ground. She found one human one, unmoving, on the very edge of the junkyard.

Lyra had bounded out of the ship almost before it touched down. There was DJ’s ship, she saw, and in the shade of it, DJ himself sitting with his back to her. She rushed to his side, and she discovered him chowing down on some extremely foul-smelling meat.

Backing away, she cried, “What the hell are you eating?!”

DJ shrugged. “Dunno what-t-t they’re called,” he said nonchalantly between bites. “But this one at-t-te my ship, so I’m just ret-t-turnin’ the favor.”

Glancing around, Lyra said, “We should get out of here.”

“Worried?” DJ asked, looking up at her. Lyra shook her head, but DJ knew she was lying. “We don’t-t-t gotta hurry,” he said, then nodded to his ship. “See for yourself.”

Lyra looked at the hatch, or what had been the hatch of the ship. It looked as if it had been peeled off with a giant can opener. Just inside she saw a pair of bare tan legs dangling out, motionless. She gasped. “Is he…?”

DJ only chuckled in response. “The b-b-back meat ain’t too bad,” DJ said, holding up some of that reeking meat to her.

Lyra felt faint. “I’ll wait in the ship,” she said, and she slowly retreated back to her skip. When she got to the hatch, DJ sat up on his knees to look at her.

“Hey, Lyra,” he said, getting her attention. “We’re square now, yeah?” For a moment, Lyra wasn’t sure what he was talking about. But she quickly recalled when he said, “Cuz I sure as hell ain’t-t-t getting’ p-p-paid enough for this.”

#star wars #star wars the last jedi #dj #don't join

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markoftheleviathan · 6 years

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miiikaelson replied to your post “It’s almost four in the morning, and I’m too busy drawing our...”

ref shots ain't bad at all and i'm impressed at your ability to draw from sight!! thats reaslly hard, and the perspective is super duper well done

also impressive the fact that you went to so much trouble to get an in-game reference. i dunno how much of a reference u used for emily but whether from sight or original its a fucking + and i cant wait to see the finished project

the wrinkles are nice, and so are the blood dripping and the little details above her mark (that i nearly missed!!) it all looks really nice and her face looks like HER face which is another hard thing. its nice.

ok, compliments done. im reblogging it to my art favorites and emily tag now. bc its so good and i cant wait.

wait compliments not done. the bodies make nice details bc they like direct TO emily and u got some design techniques with the behead guy. i had to take a lengthy design class. i now see design in everything. u did well.

First of all, you’re an absolute DEAR, and I adore you oh my god. I was going to reply to this last night but it was around 5am and I just ended up falling asleep whoopsies.

2) MAN THE PERSPECTIVE. DON’T EVEN GET ME S T A R T E D. It took me about an hour to set up the damn picture I wanted for the reference because I can draw Dunwall pretty decently without a reference but Karnaca’s got a really, really, really specific look whereas Dunwall is just sort of “London steampunk-ish.” And THEN it took another twenty minutes to take the damn photos because leading lines and balancing the foreground vs background, and negative space blah blah blah I’ve studied art basically my entire life, and a part of me wants to go “Fuck it” and ignore the basic principles of design, but it’s ingrained in me and I can’t. I’m getting off topic. PERSPECTIVE. RIGHT. I had to redraw the entire background around ten times because all of my ref pics were from drastically different positions and I was screaming trying to figure out where the focal points were but I think I kinda sort of got it in the end.

3) I’ve only drawn Emily about four times or so before so I have a decent understanding as to how her face looks (it helps that her moles happen to be in the same places my moles are, which is kind of freaky and creeps me out a bit) so those little details are pretty easy to figure out BUT, because I wanted to get things perfectly right I used a couple dozen refs from different sources to figure out how I wanted Emily to look. (She looks so different in every single version that I wanted to find a middle ground.) And @ominousdeer ‘s dozens of photos of Em were amazing (I did use a direct ref of ominous’ for the pose because I couldn’t be bothered to sit down for four hours scouring the internet, or fiddling with sketches), as well as my eight billion screenshots of Em during the first cinematic trailer for her (the one from the E3 announcement) ‘cause I feel like that’s how Arkane wanted her to look if she was hyper realistic, and it’s also the only one where she decently looks biracial and goddammit, I want to preserve what few biracial characters there are because I sure as hell never found any characters that were biracial in the media when I was growing up that I saw myself in.

4) The Mark!!! I didn’t give her a sword because the whole point of the piece is “blood on my hands” etc etc etc, making her crimes a little bit more personal, and in my original version of this, she was also weaponless (but her hands were covered in a LOT more blood), but narrative wise it didn’t make sense as to how she’d kill them 100% bare handed, and then I remembered that the Mark glows when it’s being used so tadaaaaa glowing, smoking Mark

5) Ahhh thank you! There was a lot of careful body placement when I was setting up my ref (which is HARD because you either fucking launch them across the entire map but they ragdoll which is nice for randomization of body placement, or you gently sit them down and they just rest in a sort of loose T-pose which is so unnatural looking and doesn’t at all make it seem like they’re dead.) I had to end up throwing bodies from down the alleyway and off of buildings (the scene is actually the Overseers’ offices where Mindy sends you to go get a body in Mission 2 of D2) so I cleared all the Overseers and threw them off the top of the building hoping it’d work... it wasn’t... fun. (Yes it totally was. Especially since I left the civilians alive so there was a lot of chaos.)

#miiikaelson #you're a peach and I love you

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notintheipswichboyband · 7 years

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Telekinesis:

Telekinesis

Chase’s telekinesis was far more advanced than those of the other Sons of Ipswich. He displayed a unique ability to create “tendrils” of telekinetic energy from his hands that could latch on and drag Caleb across the ground. He could use his fingers to create a powerful bash of energy to knock Caleb back to the ground. He then levitated Caleb high into the air and tossed him out of Putnam Barn with great speed and force.

"What powers, you ask? I dunno, how 'bout the power of flight? That do anything for ya? That's levitation, Holmes. How 'bout the power to kill a yak, from 200 yards away... with mind bullets!

That's telekinesis, Kyle! How 'bout the power... to move you?"

― Jack Black (of Tenacious D), "Wonderboy"

The power to manipulate objects/matter with the mind.

Also Called

Mind-Over-Matter

Mind Power

Object Manipulation

Psychokinesis

Telekinetic/Psychokinetic Power

Capabilities

User can influence/manipulate/move objects/matter with their mind. Telekinesis is one of the basis of many superpowers that are based on "controlling/manipulating", and may evolve to the point that a Telekinetic can control anything at a subatomic level.

Applications

"Psychokinesis" is an umbrella term for any ability that involves using the mind to influence/manipulate/move matter/objects.

Basic level

Binding: To keep object/being from moving.

Levitation: To lift an object, e.g. raising a pitcher several inches into the air. (Chase Knows)

Psionic Speed: To augment the user's physical speed, e.g. outrunning a speeding vehicle.

Psionic Strength: To augment the user's physical strength, e.g. punching through a steel wall.

Telekinetic Bullet Projection: To project telekinetic energy or objects as bullets.

Telekinetic Choking: To strangle others.

Telekinetic Grip: To grasp an object firmly in place, e.g. keeping the tides from washing a friend away.

Telekinetic Maneuver: To alter an object's directional course, e.g. changing what number a dice lands on or deflect an opponent attack. (Chase Knows)

Telekinetic Pull/Push: To pull objects towards the user or to push objects away from the user, e.g. yanking a book off a shelf or sliding a cup across a table. (Chase Knows)

Advanced level

Elemental Manipulation: Alternate the natural elements of existence at a sub-molecular level. (Chase Knows)

Homing Effect: To make any object automatically follow, home in and lock onto its target or targets until it hits them.

Molecular Manipulation: To manipulate matter and energy at molecular level.

Motor-Skill Manipulation: To manipulate the movement of others.

Object Manipulation: To alter an object's inner workings, e.g. unlocking a door.

Psionic Healing: To heal others with one's own telekinetic powers.

Spatial Sense: To "see" one's surroundings using telekinesis, e.g. sensing a target from a distance.

Telekinetic Aura: Possess powerful telekinetic extensions field from oneself.

Telekinetic Blast: Emit telekinetic energy to make blast that destroys anything in the user's path. (Chase Knows)

Telekinetic Combat: to use telekinesis in physical combat

Telekinetic Compression: To crush an object, e.g. squeezing a chair into a ball.

Telekinetic Constructs: To create objects, weapons and creatures out of telekinetic energy.

Telekinetic Destruction: To make an object explode, e.g. blowing up a table.

Telekinetic Flight: To use telekinesis to fly.

Telekinetic Pressure: To use telekinesis to damage area.

Telekinetic Surgery: To conduct complex surgery through telekinetic means.

Telekinetic Teleportation: Use telekinesis to teleport themselves or others.

Telekinetically Enhanced Condition: To use telekinesis to enhance the user's condition.

Unarmed Weapon Wielding: Use weapons without touching them.

Wound Inducement: to use telekinesis to cause physical wounds on others.

Motion Manipulation: Guide or shift directional vectors through direct molecular motion manipulation.

Property Manipulation: Change the physical and chemical properties.

Self-Molecular Manipulation: To manipulate self at molecular level.

Transmutation: Ability of changing molecules turning anything into most anything else.

Intuitive Aptitude: To learn how an object work by taking it apart and putting back together.

Master level

Atomic Manipulation/Energy Manipulation: To control matter and energy at the atomic levels. e.g. rearranging atoms and controlling energy.

Dimensional Travel: To bend the very fabric of dimensional barriers, allowing travel through wormholes or teleportation-like movement.

Neural Impulse Manipulation: To redirect the electrical signals between the brain and nerves, achieving control over thoughts, feelings, and movement of a body.

Organic Manipulation: To manipulate organic matter.

Psionic Explosion: To create and discharge a destructive psychic energy across a wide range.

Remote Telekinesis: To manipulate matter that is not within the user's location, e.g. controlling a rock 2000 miles away.

Technology Manipulation: To manipulate the functions and properties of technology and all forms of high-tech machinery.

Vibration Emission: To emit a powerful vibration strong enough to make objects shatter, i.e. sonic boom.

Weather Manipulation: To manipulate the weather, e.g. create lightning storms. (Chase Knows, Barely any control over. Emotion dependent currently.)

Chemistry Manipulation: By directly applying change to the sub-molecular bonds.

Cosmological Force Manipulation: Bend the very energies of the universe via thought alone.

Energy Absorption/Conversion: To absorb and convert energy.

Matter Manipulation: Change the very nature of physical nature of substance.

Self-Atomic Manipulation: To manipulate self at atomic level.

Mental Manipulation: By controlling the electrical signals in the brain.

Reanimation: To reanimate corpses.

Age Shifting: By manipulating the cells through telekinesis, could potentially achieve Immortality.

Telekinetic Regeneration: To regenerate one's own cells via telekinetic manipulation or gathering telekinetic energy to do so, e.g. using telekinesis to induce molecular/biological manipulation.

Psychic Bomb Generation: To generate and release a destructive explosive composed of psychic energy.

Ultimate level

Fundamental Forces Manipulation: To manipulate the fundamental forces of the universe.

Omnikinesis: To manipulate anything and everything.

Particle Manipulation: To manipulate matter at the basest of levels.

Reality Warping: To manipulate reality by bending quantum strings in a localized area.

Space-Time Manipulation: To manipulate and distort the space-time continuum.

Subatomic Manipulation/Energy Manipulation: To control matter and energy at subatomic levels.

Universal Force Manipulation: To manipulate both the physical and esoteric forces of the universe.

Particle Energy Manipulation: To manipulate particle energy.

Self-Subatomic Manipulation: To manipulate self at sub-atomic level.

Techniques

Deflation: To make objects to deflate.

Telekinetic Combat: To utilize telekinesis in combination of physical combat.

Telekinetic Cutting: To use telekinesis to cut things.

Variations

Elemental Matter Manipulation: using certain elements that have the potential to manipulate objects' movements (such as electromagnetism, gravity, and air).

Spatial Telekinesis: manipulate matter and energy by manipulating the space it is occupying.

Tactile Telekinesis: where the user has to be in physical contact with an object to be able to move it telekinetically. Other uses include focusing it inward increasing ones physical traits, while simulating Invulnerability via skin-layer Barrier by surrounding the body in a field of psychokinetic force.

Telekinetic Force Manipulation: specialized variation concentrate on simple but (extremely) strong TK Force itself.

Vector Manipulation: user creates telekinetic energy appendages to move the object, giving it vector, making it easier to move and more effective than normal telekinesis.

Associations

Matter Manipulation

Psionic Manipulation

Limitations

Telekinesis Immunity

May only be capable of moving objects they could physically move.

May not be able to manipulate magic-based matters/energies.

Psychic strength may be proportional to user's capacity, meaning an opponent with physical strength stronger than the user's mental strength may break free, or even be immune to the ability altogether.

Ability may be weakened or nullified by stress, fear or distractions.

May only be able to manipulate targets of certain number, size or weight at once.

Using this ability may be physically fatiguing.

User may not have control over the speed of which the target moves.

May be able to move only the objects that they can perceive.

May be unable or only able to move only certain objects.

Psychic Energy Absorption can negate this power.

Could be ineffective against those who control themselves at fundamental levels.

#Chase #Info #Powers #Power #Official #Canon #Main #Telekinesis #Abilities

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