#Omw to draw all his cards

[wiwilaa]

[s3as1cks4m]

*slides in with bad sound effects*

Do you have any Sakuya headcanons????

I do I do!!

Sakuya Headcanons

He never steps on lines or cracks on the ground

He once mistook wasabi for guacamole,, that wasn’t a fun day

He can tell when everyone is upset and will do anything he can to make them feel better

He sings while doing his chores

It takes him a bit to understand jokes😭

He has a small memory book, he writes funny things that happen each day, as well as doodles he (or anyone in the dorms) draws

His hair is so freaking soft oml

He gets sick easily

Like he could step outside in the rain without a jacket for a minute and come back inside sneezing up a storm (now he has a cold smh)

He really likes fantasy/adventure books!!

He’s a walking good luck charm

He went to the market with Omi, there were really good sales

Itaru has him pull a card in one of his games, he got an SSR

Citron is always dragging him into his shenanigans cause he knows it’s hard to get mad at Sakuya

He likes picking up the cats in the courtyard and just carrying them around when he’s bored

He texts everyone to make sure they drank water

Over text:

Sakuya: Did you drink water today?

Itaru: Dude, it’s like 2am, don’t you have school tmw

Sakuya: That didn’t answer my question >:/

Itaru: ...

Itaru: ... no

Sakuya: >:( omw

He makes Kandi :)

He has a collection of those bobble heads that are activated by the sun

That’s all i got for now!! :D Hope you like these!! ^_^

[gaynoctgar]

A Small Comfort

Summary: Set after Noctis’ and Ignis’ argument in Episode 4 of Brotherhood, Noctis learns to lean on his closest friend in his time of need.

Pairing: Prompto/Noctis, pre-relationship

Word Count: ~2800

So...I’m finally posting a fic I wrote.  Last time I watched Brotherhood, I had wished Noct’s mental health was addressed more, so I made it happen!  Trigger warning: a panic attack is described.  I hope you enjoy!

>>i kno its late, but do u wanna come over?

Noctis stares hard at the cursor blinking at his screen, thumb hovering over the “send” button.  Ignis has just left, and Noctis himself has screamed so hard he doesn’t think he can scream anymore, but there’s still a persistent ache in his chest, a need to not be alone.  He can’t call Ignis, obviously, and he can’t call Gladio, so that leaves…

Noctis has been careful to leave Prompto out of this part of his life.  It means so much to him that when he is with Prompto, he doesn’t have to worry about any of this. He doesn’t have to think about sustaining the wall, or complicated political reports, he can just be a normal teenager.  But right now, he finds himself craving comfort in a way that he hasn’t since he was younger, when he was first injured.  That doesn’t make the reaching out any easier.

He hits send before he can think any better of it and throws his phone across the couch.  Immediately, it buzzes, and Noctis scrambles to look at the message.

>sure thing dude.  Need me to bring anything?

In spite of everything, Noctis feels his heart lift slightly.

>>uh, junk food maybe?

>>but if you don’t have any uh >>just bring you.

Oh shit, he really sent that.  He triple texted.  But Prompto’s reply is just as quick.

>omw, the metro should get me there in 20. you feelin okay?

Well that’s...a question.  The obvious answer would be “no” but Noctis falters before replying with that.  He doesn’t want Prompto to think of him any differently, to see him as the prince.  But he also, somehow, really wants to talk  about this with someone he knows will just listen.  Then, he thinks, that’s not fair to push onto Prompto.  He can’t burden Prompto with all of this.  Prompto has a life free of these kinds of worries, and Noctis cares about him too much not to keep it that way.  Still...they have been getting closer lately.  Noctis has never had a best friend before, but he suspects that best friends talk about these things.  Are Ignis and Gladio best friends?  Do they talk?

Just then, Noctis hears a knock at his door, startling him out of his thoughts.  He looks down to see 5 more texts from Prompto that he missed while he was spacing out, and he rushes over to open the door.  There stands his friend, with the promised junk food, and an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Did ya fall asleep on me?” he tries to joke as he steps inside, but then he glances at Noctis again.  It’s a look Noctis has never seen before, one that Noct doesn’t quite know how to parse.  He then realizes what a slob he must look like--still in his school uniform at this late hour, unwashed hair sticking out every which way, clothing rumpled in weird places--and makes to say something about it, but Prompto very gently places a hand on his shoulder.  Firm.  Grounding.  He sets the junk food down and looks at Noct dead-on.

“Hey...are you okay?” he asks, and Noct’s reflexes tell him to say that he’s fine, to downplay everything he is feeling, and to ignore it and make a joke to avoid having this conversation.  But he looks at Prompto, at his soft features, his loose hair, the freckles that dot his face, and his swirling purple eyes, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.  The look in his eyes is so gentle, and he just wants to help Noctis, and all of it is a bit too much and--

Wait.  

He actually can’t breathe.  

All he can think about is that conversation with Ignis, replaying in his head, and his fear of telling Prompto what’s really going on, what he will really have to face someday, because if he does he will lose him and he can’t lose Prompto, this precious boy who is so kind, and he can’t lose his father, and--

When did the floor get so close?

Somehow, he is kneeling on the ground, and Prompto is right there with him.  He’s saying something but the words sound fuzzy, like there’s a high-pitched whine blocking everything out.  Both of Prompto’s hands are on his shoulders--the only sensation he can really register--and he focuses all of his energy into understanding what Prompto is saying.  It’s really hard because all he feels is the blood rushing through him, like he just ran a marathon, and breathing is even harder and takes up so much of his effort right now.  He feels dizzy, like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“...--ear me?” Noct manages to make out.  Prompto’s probably asking if Noctis can hear him.  He nods, slightly.

“Good, that’s really good, buddy,” Prompto soothes him, his voice getting clearer with each word, but Noctis still feels as though he...can’t move from this strange position he’s found himself in.  He thinks, vaguely, that if it weren’t for Prompto’s hands on his shoulders, he might actually die.  He wants to tell him this, to say thank you, to do anything, but it all catches in his throat.  Why can’t he move?

“Just breathe with me, okay?  Can you do that?” Prompto is asking him.  Was Noctis not breathing?  He nods again.  Prompto begins counting out the breaths, and Noctis does his best to follow along, each deep breath easing his muscles, and slowing his heart down.  He hadn’t realized how fast it was beating.  He doesn’t know how long they stay there, breathing slowly, in and out, until Noct’s body releases him from the grip he was in.

“Better?” Prompto asks, simply, and Noctis finally has it in him to look at him.

“S’good,” Noct replies.  “Thanks.”

He tries to get himself off the ground, but of course his bad leg is acting up.  Yet another thing he hasn’t told Prompto.

“Whoa there, let me help,” Prompto is saying, hoisting himself up and reaching a hand down to Noct.  Noct takes it, gratefully, and leans into the touch more than he’d like to admit to get himself standing again.

“I’m sorry.  I have no idea what just happened,” is what flies out of Noct’s mouth before he has the chance to stop it.

“Has it happened before?” Prompto asks earnestly, and Noct shakes his head no.  At least...not that he could remember.  Maybe now and then, but he usually just slept it off, now that he thinks about it.

“I...think that was a panic attack, dude,” Prompto says slowly, carefully, guiding Noct to sit back on the couch with him.  “Have you been worrying about something?”

Was that what that was?  All of the worry he’s tried to lock away...consuming him?  Noctis shrugs noncommittally.  

“If you have...I’m here if you need,” Prompto says, softly.  “But I won’t make you talk if you don’t wanna.”

Noctis realizes his friend is giving him a way out.  And if nothing else, he knows that Prompto will be true to his word.  If he says he doesn’t want to talk, Prompto will not push him, and will at least pretend to forget about the incident.

But…

Noctis can’t shake the feeling that not talking is exactly what got him here.  He’s only 16, and he’s pretty sure most people his age don’t just break down like that.  Yes, Prompto is offering him a way out...but he is also offering him comfort and help.  On his own terms.  Not because Noctis is a prince in need of protecting, but because he’s his friend.  Maybe, if he’s careful…

“...it’s a lot of things, to be honest,” Noctis finally breathes out, when he remembers how to make his mouth say words again.  “...prince stuff.  I don’t wanna…” he mumbles, turning away.

But Prompto has reached out to place a hand on his shoulder again.  

“Doesn’t matter to me if it’s prince stuff.  It’s definitely bothering you,” he begins, softly, slowly, giving Noct time to process every word.  Now that Noctis thinks about it, Prompto has always spoken to him like this: gently, slowly, even when he is angry.  But this voice?  It’s soft, and low, almost as if to remind Noctis he is safe here.

“Right but I….you….you’re separate from all that.  I like it that way,” Noctis tries to explain.  “You remind me I’m someone beyond that…I…” he continues, but it fades away.  Prompto’s arm has slid around his shoulders, tugging Noctis in to lean against him, and Noctis doesn’t have it in him to fight it.  Hell, he doesn’t want to.

Prompto laughs just a little bit when he sees how Noctis has curled into his side on the couch, and slides his hand up to card through his hair.  It feels...nice, comforting, but something else too.  Almost...electric, like little sparks are dancing across his nerves when Prompto’s fingers brush across his scalp, gently pulling the knots in his hair free.  Noctis has been feeling this more and more recently, and he doesn’t really know what to call it.  Maybe it’s just that he’s so starved of physical contact aside from getting his ass kicked in training.  He sighs into the contact, and he can hear Prompto’s voice vibrating under his ear.

“Yeah, you’re my best dude, you know that.  I definitely think of you as Noct first,” he turns, slightly, attempting to make eye contact with Noct, who keeps his face turned away, “but you also happen to be Prince Noctis.  It’s a part of you, and you don’t have to shut me out of it.  I want to help you with whatever I can, whether it’s a really difficult boss fight on a video game….or prince stuff,” he finishes, smiling to himself.

At this, Noctis does bring his head up from Prompto’s shoulder so he can look him in the eye.  Prompto smiles at him softly, his indigo-purple eyes drawing Noctis closer in a way he can’t quite describe.  He wants to say something, anything, to tell Prompto how amazing and wonderful and patient he is.  Instead...he slumps forward, on instinct, burying his face in the crook of Prompto’s neck, wrapping his arms around him in an embrace.  One that Prompto eagerly returns, after a moment of shock.  Noctis can’t even remember the last time he was hugged, let alone the last time he initiated a hug, but it feels...natural and good.  Prompto traces the fingers of one hand up Noctis’ neck and tangles them in his hair once more, his other hand softly rubbing his back.

Noctis feels so comforted that he doesn’t ever want to leave, doesn’t want to think about saying anything to spoil the moment.  But he trusts Prompto more than anything and, the longer they are here, pressed close together, the more he feels the urge to talk about it.  Prompto’s a good friend, he’ll listen.  Noctis breathes in his familiar and warm scent one more time...and takes the plunge.

“My dad is dying, Prompto,” he mumbles quietly, giving sound to the thought that has most been plaguing his mind ever since his father started needing to use his cane.  “It’s the Wall.  It keeps us safe, and it’s killing him,” he manages, before he falters.  Putting it into words almost has Noctis panicking again, but he hears Prompto gasp a little bit before wrapping his arms around him tighter, pulling him even closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.  “No wonder you’ve been so sad.”

And that’s all.  Nothing about how Noctis will need to be stronger to fill his father’s shoes, nothing about how he isn’t fit to be a king, nothing about how he can’t be upset, just acknowledging that it sucks.  Something breaks within Noctis, but he really, really doesn’t want to cry in front of Prompto.  It’s a strange mix of emotions.  He pushes away slightly, so Prompto doesn’t have to deal with it, and finds himself locking eyes with Prompto again, Prompto’s strong arms preventing him from getting too far.  And if he’s a good friend, he deserves to know the last bit of truth that Noctis has been keeping from him.  Maybe he can get out of all of this now, while he has a chance.

“I feel like I should tell you one more thing,” Noctis says, almost a whisper.

“Sure, Noct,” Prompto replies immediately.  “Lay it on me.”

“I don’t think you’ll like this one,” Noctis smiles slightly, in spite of it.  What a ridiculous mess of emotions he is right now.  “When...when Dad dies.  Probably soon,” he tries, waving his hands around erratically against the tide of emotion he feels--just one of many behaviors his father and the Citadel have tried to train out of him.  He takes a deep breath and continues, “someone will have to keep the Wall up.  That someone will have to be me--” he tries to explain, but his voice breaks on the last word, and he presses the palms of his hands to his eyes, as if that will stop the tears, but to no avail.  He did not want this to happen, Prompto is going to think he’s so weak, and a mess, and--

“It’s okay to be upset about it,” Prompto says, gently grabbing Noctis’ wrists to pull them away from his face.  Noctis peeks at his dear friend--his kind, wonderful, patient friend--and is met with the gentlest look he thinks he’s ever seen from anyone.  He thinks maybe Prompto is crying too, but then he’s completely overwhelmed because Prompto is gently brushing his tears away with his thumb.  

“It’s a lot to take in, but I’m glad you told me,” he soothes.  Noctis feels his face heating up, but he doesn’t push Prompto away at all.  He leans closer, craving more of that contact.  “It helps me to know everything,” he says with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis apologizes on instinct, before he gets too caught up, before he’s unable to pull away.  “Don’t mean to be a bummer,” he tries to joke, but Prompto isn’t having it.

“Hey, this is serious.  Your feelings are important to me,” he reminds, his tone only slightly harsh to show his seriousness. His tone then softens, “and you’re being very brave.”

“I don’t feel brave,” Noctis replies, before he can stop himself.  “I’m afraid.”

“Oh, Noct,” Prompto sighs, pulling him back into their earlier embrace, rubbing his back with one hand. “Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid.  It means you’re afraid and you do it anyway.  My mom told me that a long time ago…” he trails off somewhat wistfully.

His mom? Noctis thinks to himself.  He almost wants to ask more, but he knows Prompto’s parents are a very sore subject, and he leaves it for another day.  For now, he soaks in the comfort, trying not to feel embarrassed at the tears that flow now and then.

Noctis isn’t sure how long it is before he stops crying, but he feels his back and legs start to ache from the strange, huddled position he’s found himself in, and he pushes back sheepishly.

“Sorry about all that,” he apologizes.  “Probably not what you signed up for…”

“What I “signed up for” was to be your friend,” Prompto responds, stern, but not unkind, as he stretches out his own arms.  “That means good stuff and bad, you know.”

Does it?  Noctis has always felt that he has had to live up to the image of the ideal prince, even with Ignis and Gladio.  But Prompto...well, Prompto just saw him at his lowest, and the look in his eyes tells Noctis there’s no place he’d rather be.  That look makes his heart jump in his throat, slightly, yet another thing he’s been trying to ignore.

“I...thank you,” Noct mumbles, waving his hands around again, this time because he’s overwhelmed that Prompto still wants to be his friend.  Prompto, for his part, smiles knowingly at the motion.  That’s another conversation they’ll have to have, Noct supposes, but he’s all drained right now.

Sensing this, Prompto hoists himself off the couch.  

“Well, I brought over this junk food for a reason.  Why don’t we get more comfortable and order a pizza?” he asks, gesturing to the fact that Noct is still in his school uniform.  “We don’t have to think about any of this for a little while, if you don’t want to.  Play video games, just vibe...”

Noct smiles.  How does Prompto know exactly what he needs?

“That sounds awesome, dude.”

[spellcasterlight]

There's an artist named lerapi who draws the perfect Hinata, unfortunately I can't send you the link to the pic over an ask though.

Hi there Quick-thinking Quoll Anon! 😊

Ooooo! All love for Hinata is deffo appreciated! ❤️

That might be my fault I had to remove media from my asks because those silly porn bots kept trying to send me those dumb videos. It's been a while though might allow them again.

I did a quick search on Google and found this which I think is what you're talking about and omw yesssss that's SO GOOD! 😍

Thank you for bringing this beauty to my attention! ✨

Ao3 ✨ |Story Request Bingo Cards 📖 | WIP Game Always Open ✒️| Hot Chocolate ☕

[l0chn3ss]

Bespoken For

@se-rarepair-day -- check it out my homie and consider partaking! I wrote this one for mahself and for my tsukid needs ;D fashionable aus are my jam

Nov 2017 Prompt: Tasteful

He was due for another fitting, entering the boutique just on time for his appointment. While Kid’s secretary was always one who urged him to be earlier for any pre-scheduled, that phrase about how being fifteen minutes early meant on-time, he’d much rather be at leisure. He didn’t even see his regular person when he walked in. All the more reason to not be unnecessarily timely.

Sitting by the window, he picked up a magazine that they had spread on the coffee table, reading for another five minutes before he was finally called in by the person at the front desk. But he took the copy of Cosmopolitan in with him, all too knowing that his stylist would take another moment to set up and finish her last client. Setting his suit on the rack on the side, then making himself comfortable on his usual chair, he flipped page after page. It was only when the curtain slid open that he got up from his seat to greet Bella.

It wasn’t her who he saw. Rather, it was another tall woman, dark hair tucked in a bun and pins stuck in her sleeves. She came in first, then Kid’s usual person. They were both in uniform, though one looked newer than the other, so he was unsure of why there was a need for an assistant that day.

His question was immediately answered after Bella greeted him, introducing the new trainee as a promising girl close to his age. Tsubaki extended her hand out for a polite shake, entertaining a “how do you do” before setting down her supplies next to her new manager’s. Moving carefully, orienting herself around her bag, she drew out a couple of more pins and measuring tools as Bella took a moment to talk to Kid privately.

“Tsu is freshly out of school. You’ll be nice to her, won’t you?”

He frowned, “I’ll do no such thing unless it’s warranted.”

“Oh, it will be. She’s skilled. Worked in other shops as an intern before. Using this place as a springboard to make it as a designer.” Bella clucked her tongue. “She’s an ambitious one.”

Eyes trailing after her, Kid said, “You know I don’t like most of your employees.”

“But she’s different,” Bella assured. “Girl’s got a good head on her shoulders, and besides, you only disliked Mels and Betty because they chattered and couldn’t keep a seam straight.”

“And what does that say about their competence?”

“Touche. Still, I’m hoping that Tsu will become your more permanent associate.”

He sighed, resigning to the logic that it was only a matter of time until Bella became too busy to attend to him. As his father’s friend, she made a special exception to Kid and worked on his suits herself. Lately however, she’d been working on new contract deals and campaigns along with another new line of casual slacks, leaving close to no time to meet up with Kid for his appointments.

There’d better be some hope with Tsubaki, especially since both Kid and Bella couldn’t afford to look for another tailor.

At the beginning of the session with Kid dressed up from head to toe, Tsubaki had already caught the looseness of the upper arms, attention trained on the area as she told Kid as such. She waited for his consent before reaching to measure around his bicep, poking at his arm with her fingers and testing out the material of his suit. Expert hands slid new pins into the place of old ones, managing to keep away from ever grazing the dress shirt under his coat. And following some of the most obvious alterations that she could see immediately, she ran through every major point, as if following a comprehensive list from memory, just to see if there were any spots that she’d missed. Kid lifted his arms when directed, holding his hands behind his back, lifting his knees to be on par with his waist, never needing to stay in an uncomfortable position for too long thanks to Tsubaki’s quick judgement.

It was half way through when Kid noticed that Bella had already slipped out of the room, shocked that a trainee was left alone with a customer. But by this time, Kid knew that he already had trust in her skills, and in Bella’s judgment. Tsubaki didn’t seem to need any extra instructions, gliding across the room as she examined a spot in every angle. So Bella was right; Tsubaki was perhaps a little different than the others.

Kid especially thought so when she asked him how his inner knee felt.

If all went well, this would have been the last day that the suit needed before becoming complete. He walked around the room for a moment longer until Bella came back in, drawing a smile from Tsubaki whose expression hadn’t changed much at all through the process. She took only a glance at Kid before praising Tsubaki heavily, beaming and ushering her around Kid, noting particular places that she was most proud of.

“The only thing is the waist. Wouldn’t it look better a tad tighter?”

Tsubaki tapped her chin, “I thought so at first until I considered the nature of the clothes themselves,” briefly going into an explanation.

And in mid sentence, Bella reached to squeeze both of her cheeks, cooing. “Oh, how right you think you are! Tighten it, dear. A couple of more years in this industry and you’ll see that you can’t always rely on textile chemistry to make clothes look good. A good attempt, sugar!”

Kid looked away from Tsubaki’s small pout, getting back onto the platform and lifting his arms until there was enough space for her to fit.

Through the following months, he visited the boutique scarcely. There were very few moments where he found a need for it; a split crotch and favors from his father were his main drive. During each time, he was referred to Tsubaki who had quickly become a mix of both an errand girl and someone who undergo all the sudden and strange tasks that customers walked in for. It was almost like a hazing event, to see if the girl was up to the task and could handle what the store threw in her face.

She was more than eager to complete each task, as a good employee should. Though she stumbled through some rather ineloquently, Kid could see a visible difference between his visits. Day 1 to day 100 showed a stark difference in not only her work but also how open she became to her customers and her team. Tsubaki learned to smile from her heart, to lend a genuine hand and hold meaningful conversation with others. The boutique wasn’t meant to be a mere stop for clothes, but to also be a familiar place that people could come to; that was the sort of world that Bella wanted to share.

Eventually, though some miracle of networking and short notice emergencies, Kid and Tsubaki began to meet up outside of the shop, starting with a rush job in a women’s bathroom stall. After the initial favor, Kid didn’t believe that her good nature and generous attitude should’ve gone unrewarded. All things would come to have an equal exchange, just how the world of business and chemistry worked out, so he wanted to take fate into his own hands and decided that their next interaction wouldn’t be that of a frantic text, but with something else.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have time for that until a couple of weeks later, after a series of back luck, or good, pulled Tsubaki back into action and saving his little accidents time and time again. A clumsy lady and spilt wine that required an immediate dress shirt change. A careless assistant during an intermission. An actual intentional cut with angry scissors that ran down his arm during the break of one of the most important meetings of the seasons. Each time Tsubaki was messaged, no matter how cryptic and deadpan the text read, she came through for Kid.

It was customary for him to make thank you calls and to show gratitude through small cards or emails, but it was strange for him to reach out to another person outside of work. Sending Tsubaki a text with a friendly intent was hard enough to draft-- a call would have been too intimate he thought-- and to send it took more courage than he thought was needed. Luckily for him, a mistaken flick of his thumb caused the screen to scroll up, and his brush with the last three instances of shame could be seen on screen.

The most recent was the most strange of the bunch.

“Nor on 5th. 1905. Bk jacket & f aid.”

“Omw,” was her answer.

And how happy was he to see her arrive with bandages, a new suit jacket, and even a fresh tie in 9 and a half minutes flat. She strode over to where Kid was huddled in the empty conference room, clearing the distance in no time at all. Handing off the clothes to a chair, she tended to his bloody arm and listened to his indignant muttering about how he would ruin FrekTel Inc, mark his words. Any company that would hire an associate who got physical after a failed business deal wasn’t going to last.

“She flew right off the handle. Grabbed fucking scissors from god knows where. Ripped a line right through my only Hilburn. Good ol’ Hilburn!”

Tsubaki’s eyes flicked to his. “It might be for the better. Perhaps give Kent Wang a try?”

“You’re not suppose to be promoting other businesses.”

“Bella’s son ordered from them last month, and even she said they were reputable for a reason.”

“Was that before or after she cussed Jeffery out?”

She smiled, “After.”

All of those jokes aside, her presence was a blessing, and her taste for clothes just the same. She deserved more than a hasty thanks and promises to be more careful the next time around. Kid sent along the message after one more bit of hesitation, rereading it for errors and to make sure that his point was conveyed correctly. The worst that could happen was that his invitation could be ignored or declined, he thought.

But luckily for him, her response came as quick as ever.

They set their calendars for the next available time that coincided, formalities dropping once the second invitation was extended. Eventually, they worked their way up to restful coffee breaks during lunch. When an afternoon at one of Tsubaki’s favorite brunch places further revealed her love for breakfast foods, Sundays became their new default meetup times with scattered lunch spots in between the week.

“I’ll get the bill next time” became “who’s turn is it?” And “how was your day” became “you won’t believe what happened yesterday.”

Soon enough, secrets of his trade and hers were revealed. Then came their own, careful and shy. Once that window was open, their trust in one another grew in ways that they hadn’t expected, knowing in their hearts that they’d found a kindred soul to share their stories with.

TBC; Part 2 coming

thank the heckles for liz and rose for brainstorming ideas and titles with me ♥