oh west - journal

[arcy]

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Izuku hasn't been without a journal in -- a long time. He'd been small, he thinks, when he'd picked up the hobby. His mom had been teaching him to read and write, and, well -- he'd put it to use. He started writing about -- about heroes. Every tibdit of information he could get his hands on, anything he could deduce, every improvement idea -- it was all in there. Maybe it was ... weird. Everyone thought it was weird. Izuku was weird and creepy. He mumbled a lot. The things he writes in his journals are almost stalkerish.
Kacchan blew up his last journal. He'd kept using it, but, well -- he didn't. Have it. Anymore. He'd, um. He'd left it at home -- reasonably, considering that Izuku hadn't exactly left by choice.
These days, Izuku's paws constantly itch for his journal. He'll just -- he'll just see something, something interesting, a cool new power, a cool new application, and he'll start reach for his notebook, and he -- won't have it. It's weirdly numbing, and it just makes his mumbling problem .. worse, somehow.
Izuku didn't think that his mumbling problem could get worse.
For the first while, Izuku ... tries not to worry about it. It's for the better -- what would he take notes on? There's not any heroes to take notes on, just ... the other people living here. And ... and that's ... a little invasive, isn't it? ... ... ..
Right.
In the end, it's inevitable that Izuku get his hands on the supplies for it. How he does so is ... somewhat of a mystery. The book isn't anything special, just a composition notebook. He'd had to tear out a few pages -- the previous owner wasn't using it anymore, they'd said, but they had used it at some point. His writing utensil was ... less usual. He hadn't been able to get any pens or anything, simply because they were so small. So he'd basically .. made his own. He was keeping it in a tiny jar he'd found washed up, empty.
Obviously, the first thing Izuku did upon obtaining it was start writing. He didn't have anything to carry it in yet, but he carried it into an open, sunny spot and started writing.
It's .. relieving. He puts the ink on the rock above him and begins writing. He writes about things he's seen, people he's encountered. Little things that're stuck to his head. And then -- it happens. He's just about to get more, but then -- it topples. The bottle disappears from beneath his paw, and Izuku squeaks, finally looking up. ... .... He only just closes his eyes in time, as the bottle hits his head. It splatters over his face, dripping over his chest, and -- oh. Izuku blinks one eye open, and shrinks away at the sight. It's not -- it's not irreparable. There's still .. a decent amount of fluid over the page, though, making the page he's working on, and the few empty ones after it .. entirely unusable.
The kitten's head falls onto the ground with a miserable whine. A burn on his chest burns with the fluid dripping over it, but Izuku barely pays it, nor his ink-covered eye, any heed.
He can't believe this. He's going to die. This is it. His flow, ruined. He should've just gone through the extra lengths, the extra social interaction, for an actual pen.

[candorosa]

[align=center][div style="width:70%; text-align: justify; padding: 1px; font-family: helvetica;"]Bokarsi, unlike Izuku, did own a proper journal to write on, with utensils and everything. Though, the journal itself was to be presented to their handler for a grade once they returned home. They treated it more as an assignment than a hobby.

They were in the process of nosing about the territory when they heard a whine. Bokarsi paused, momentarily narrowing their eyes as they scanned the horizon for anything out of ordinary. Finally, they spotted another child, face down in the dirt with black liquid surrounding him. The dhole child frowned in worry, quickly shuffling over to the green furball. With a flick of their tail, they maneuvered their staff with telekinesis, aiming to give Izuku a firm poke in the ribs. "Excuse me, are you...alright? Hurting?"

Frankly, the kitten looked horrendous. Various injuries littered his body and he looked distraught. If he was dying, then Bokarsi would have to act fast. They spotted the ruined journal. "Is this yours?" They asked with a blink, pawing at the book and frowning when their paw became covered in ink. If it belonged to the green child and if the child was on death's door, then they would try their best to restore the item and bury it alongside him.

Though, first they would need to wipe the ink off him. They quickly rummaged through their satchel and frowned even deeper when they found no cloth. How unfortunate. "Please hold still," they murmured, determined as they tried to wipe Izuku's eye clean of ink with their paw, set on using their fur as a rag. The concept of personal boundaries or rushing off to find a rag did not even cross their mind.

[roan ;]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — Keeping a journal probably would've been a positive thing for Roan, although perhaps not in the exact same way as it was for Izuku. Despite his constant curiosity fueling him from place to place and motivating his every action, the boy was actually rather good at just keeping all of that gathered information safe inside his head. He didn't quite have a photographic memory, but he certainly came close to it, so he saw little reason to record down everything he knew and thought about. However, there were other things that a journal could be useful for, such as writing down all of his questions. Even though he wasn't prone to forgetfulness, it at times became difficult for him to keep all of his questions for people straight in his mind, and he ended up losing track of what he wanted to inquire about by the next time he saw a person. In addition to that, it probably would've been nice to have a journal for his own language skills.

Much like his mother, the little draconic kit was hardly the type to keep to just one language, and so far he had simultaneously essentially been learning three of them. First the basic English, which was the most practical and easy to learn, at least to Roan. Then, the Spanish that his mother adored so much, which was thankfully fairly similar to English, if it wasn't for the odd verb form differences here and there. Finally, there was Gaelic. The hardest of the bunch, Roan had been learning it from various sources, and he still pretty much only had a hold on the basics. With all three languages to keep track of, it wasn't odd for Roan to lose the occasional word or forget a rule or two for speaking them at times. Having one place where he could put all those words and rules together in one comprehensive package would be nice, and would probably also lead to less confusion on the part of his clanmates.

Either way, the point still stood that Roan had never had a journal, so he didn't entirely understand the sheer agony that came with ruining not only one, but several pages on accident. It wasn't the end of the world, but it still was far from ideal, and Roan found himself wincing as he wandered over, his blue eyes falling upon the stained and destroyed pages beneath Izuku's paws. The boy wasn't sure what he could do, considering his wings still weren't large enough to fly him off to go quickly grab a towel, but he could at least offer to help in some way that wasn't quite as... forceful as Bokarsi's. Not that he wanted to critique her while she was helping, but he doubted Izuku was feeling particularly amazing, getting pawed at roughly in an effort to clean the ink off.

Clearing his throat in the most attention grabbing way that he could manage, Roan muttered softly as he padded over, his small paws sinking into the sand below, "Uhm... hola! Is everything alright over here? Can I... help, somehow?" The question was more timid than his usually were, mainly due to the fact that he could see the anguish in Izuku's eyes once his head was lifted from the ground. Roan wasn't sure he had ever actually seen such utter defeat before in anyone. The Typhoon had some troubles as of late, but even everyone around him still wasn't letting that get them down. His Mother had never been one to succumb to things like the dire wolf injuries she had recently received, and even Michael was just brushing things aside with a carefree little smile. Izuku was truly the first person he had ever seen in such a sorry state, so he instantly felt the want to reach out and pat the other, or move closer and huge him. That might've been a little weird, though. And a lot messy, considering Izuku was covered in ink.

[OCTANE.]

Octane honestly couldn't remember the last time he wrote anything besides his signature (for his adoring fans, of course!) he had notoriously bad handwriting- he went too fast and someone forgot to correct him as a child, so the mad man wrote his letters in reverse. Besides, most work was done digitally- homework, accounting, posters, everything was electronic. Octane couldn't remember the last time he saw pen and paper not related to autographs. (Or outside of Caustic's lab, but that was different!)
Oh, the kids were hanging out. He could probably bother them for a few minutes? Let's see. Octavio's gaze locked onto Roan first, that little kid that knew his language, another he didn't know, and Izuku. He debated over in his head what the funniest thing he could say was, then scrapped that idea away.

"Uh, looks you had some trouble there, amigo." A little laugh left his throat.

© LEXASPERATED

[arcy]

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Izuku had absolutely not expected to be noticed.
It's Bokarsi, first. The kitten starts at the prod from the dhole's staff, jerking to attention to give them a wide-eyed look. Almost involuntarily, Izuku curls further into himself, shaking his head. "I'm .. I'm okay," He squeaks, high-pitched. It's a lie, of course -- Izuku's been hurting for a while now, worse now, but the last thing he's going to do is say so straight-up.
Izuku's face crumples a bit further as Bokarsi motions to the journal. It's not even a big deal. Izuku's had journals worse ruined before, this one was still fine except for the -- the few pages it bled through. But it's his fault, this time. He nods somewhat jerkily regardless.
In all honesty, Izuku didn't even need the journal. Kacchan had destroyed enough journals for him to have refined the art of remembering his own personal rambles, but -- well. It helped focus his thoughts, shape them from something rambling and abstract into something .. manageable.
The kitten squeaks once again as Bokarsi approached, flinching as they reach for him. He doesn't pull away, but largely because Izuku's never been particularly good at putting his foot down on .. just about anything. "You, um, don't have to do that, you'll just get it all over your fur --" He says in a rush, bobbed tail thumping against the ground anxiously.
.. Honestly, though, Izuku's almost thankful when Roan approaches. It gives him a distraction -- Izuku is already feeling quite overwhelmed, and his expression is rather shaky. He'd probably be mortified to hear Roan's thought process, in all honesty -- it just felt too dramatic, true though it was. "It's okay. I just, um -- I just have to take out the pages, I guess," And ... and find a pen, maybe, and redo the page he'd been working on. He doubts it'll be as good as the original, but that's .. that's okay. He tries to muster a smile, to dubious success.
Then there's Octane. "Y, yeah," Izuku tells him, tail thumping against the sand once more. There was ... a lot going on, and it wasn't even a bad sort of a lot -- well. Yes. It was bad. Izuku hated it, and he hated how many people showed up to witness him freak out over his journal, but they weren't being mean about it. Rather helpful, actually, even if Izuku doesn't particularly appreciate Bokarsi's method of help.

[roan ;]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — Roan watched closely as Izuku weakly attempted to assure Bokarsi that he was fine, his limbs somewhat flailing in an attempt to communicate the motion of get away without truly saying something so rude. The younger boy could tell that Izuku wasn't telling the whole truth of things – he had inherited his mother's own perceptive nature – but he didn't comment on that figuring the other would just grow more embarrassed about lying and being confronted. The other kit is quick to tell him that everything is alright once his attention is on Roan, and the little draconic male found himself nodding along anyways, even though he didn't really believe it. He was curious about why Izuku would shove his emotions and concerns down like that, but he didn't voice that just yet, figuring perhaps he could ask about it later. Usually he just asked questions as soon as they popped into his head, but that was also usually because adults didn't particularly care. They were always quick to answer his questions even around others, because usually they didn't try to keep secrets like Izuku was doing at the moment. A faint frown flicked over Roan's face as he thought about it, mumbling to Izuku, "Well... at least the whole thing isn't ruined, right? It could've been a lot worse!"

Turning his attention now to Bokarsi's actions, Roan found himself wincing slightly when he saw the other wiping the ink off of Izuku and onto themselves. It wasn't a particularly clean system, nor was it actually that amazing of a cleaning method either. It just sort of seemed like the mess was getting more pushed around, rather than dealt with. Taking a deep breath, Roan looked down at his paws for a moment before he turned, rushing off through the sand. It took several minutes before he returned, this time with a couple of black towels clenched in his jaws as he trotted along, using a great deal of effort just to avoid dragging the towels through the sand below. Once he was all the way back to the scene of the incident, he dropped the towels down, saying helpfully, "Here we go! My mama and I have plenty of towels, so I'm sure she won't mind you and Bokarsi using a couple to clean yourselves up. Plus, these are the black ones, so the ink won't even stain them all that bad!" It was all he could think of to do in order to help, since he didn't know anything about journal care or how to take the pages out without just ruining everything else inside.