#a sword technique where you trace circles...

[dreadark]

thanks to lemuen complaining about aulus not shutting the fuck up, I think we can safely conclude he was in fact the guy thorns was fighting in leonhardt's kin memories

this still doesn't explain why leonhardt has thorns kin memories but I don't think that one is ever being explained

[sifu-kisu]

THE WEAPON OF THE DEITY THAT GOES INTO HISTORY * - "THE WHEEL OF FIRE AND WIND"

When it comes to the weapons "Wheel of Fire and Wind" or the fenghuo moon ( ору), people immediately remember the deity of Nechi, who possesses immense abilities.

The hometown of Nezha - Tangu, Tianjin, Dagucou, where in modern history war ships of allies of Britain and France were shot down. Now Tianjin Xingan is one of the five largest ports in China. It is said that Nache was only seven or eight years old when he worshiped the holy Tao deity Tai Yi as his teacher. He learned from him the wonderful science of magic in the use of natural elements as well as ways of owning different weapons. He is also called the Octopus Nechja. It is believed that you cannot leave your hands empty, so Master Daos Tai Yi gave him eight types of weapons: one hand holds the Qiangkun Tuan weapon ( ль), or the "trigram ring of Qian and Kun", the other hand holds the Huntian Lin ( тому) or the "Matter Mixing the Sky", another hand holds a bar of gold jing zhouan ( ),), and with two hands holds a weapon of Huotsian ( )) or "spear with a fiery blade". And three free hands perform such functions: one hand held a blanket of sacred fire of shenhuo zhao ( жа), and the other two held the yingjian ( д) or the Ying and Yang Sword.

Many of his weapons spread around the world: the most popular of them are the Huociang ( из) or the "spear with a Flaming Blade" and the Ying Jian ( ём) or "Ying and Yang Sword". It is believed that a piece of silk fabric of the mixed sky is owned by the martial arts demon Su Huazza ( е), but the cost of golden brick bars is too high to be used in the world. Working with a shenhuo zhou ( ш) blanket is quite difficult and lost. But here's an object-weapon called fenghuo moon ( 火) or "wheel of wind and fire" found a use in the bagua style, which will be discussed later.

Along with the bagua zhang weapons, bagua fenghuo lun ( 子) or "the wheel of eight trigrams of wind and fire", it contains many pairs of unique and secret weapons, such as: ziu yuanyang yue ( )) or the "tangerine duck axes of Tzu and Wu characters", bagua ziu jijua yiang zhui ( н) or “chicken claws of eight triggram characters Tzu and Wu Yin and Yang", bagua golen jian ( голя) "sick knife eight trigrams" and other pair, small and secret weapons. All of these species are quite ancient, and many of them have been summarized, processed, and complemented by the creator of Baguazhang Dun Haichuan ( Все). The Baguachian weapon "Wheel of Fire and Wind" or fenghuo moon ( О) is a ring with a diameter of about 30 cm. Three quarters of the rings have blades inside and out, and one quarter has a hand-grip handle. There are special tips on each end of the handle. n. "snake spear" with blades on both sides, with sharp ends, they are about 70 cm long, 3 to 4 cm wide and about 1 - 2 kg weight.

There are many types of these weapons (see. Click here: @TAG). There are options when there is a "half-moon"-shaped blade inside the ring, there are options when there are many "teenage blades" and many other options at the edges of the ring. Often these different variations were used in different Dao chiao sects, from here the appearance of these species can be traced in Baguachiang, so it is likely that Dong Haichuan has already used much of what was known. However, in a variant typical of Baguachians, there are these snake-shaped blades going in different directions from the circle itself.

The fenghuo lun technique ( нь) is extremely dangerous and difficult (out of an unusual form) for the performer itself and is not usually learned by all in Baguachiang, but only by those who have attained high mastery of gunfu and ude ("fighting virtue") and are mastered after the basic material of the system has been passed.

They can be used to perform technical actions such as: qi ( про) "stab like a stud", tza ( () "punch", tiao ( е) "lift", chuan ( ствия) "walk through", gou ( их) "hook", hua ( () "cut-scratch", with the wheel or disk itself, lun ( 钩) can mo ( тере) "scrub or cut", la ( пере) "tighten", hua ( пом) "cut", kan ( зу) "chop", pai ( е) "hit", tao ( кан) "throw" or "roll-put on", ge ( за) "mow-cut", suo ( ") "lock", na ( пай) "grab-hold", dai ( () ""belt-grab", then ( )) "support from below", is ( вать) "cut" and others. The technique of using the "Wheel of Fire and Wind" is also unique because its unusual shape can catch what is called out of the blue (chuci bui / 胜不 ).) and cannot be safe and defended (fanbu shenfang / за不 出).

The practical use of the fenghuo moon ( со) is based on the harmonized work of the feet (t. e. movement technique), whole body work (shenfa / ке) and directly the bagua palm technique (t. e. basic work in the making of 8 palms). In order to use this type of weapon, you need to have a strong and refined back, strong hands and precise eyes, and use it carefully, so it requires serious practice. Each hand holds a circle, it flies up and down, turns and spins, moves wavy and folds unexpectedly, twists and drills, constantly strikes vertical and horizontal blows. The "Wheel of Wind and Fire" is constantly moving together and in harmony with the movement of the whole body, which changes with the disks. The shape is like a colorful phoenix, it is elegant and beautiful, and in its diversity, it is like a dragon!

Today, the weapon "Wheel of Fire and Wind" or fenghuo moon ( .) is so-called, on the brink of extinction. Rarely you see him in action. And those who practice with him today are mostly followers (chuanzhen / ним人) of the Tai Yi Men sect ( эн) or "Lord Tai Yi Gate". Therefore, I hope our modest labor will not let it disappear completely and it will reborn like a Phoenix (fenghuan / ф) and dance like a Dragon (moon / /).

P.S.:

Article "CHINESE DEITIES: NEZHA / Я /": https://www.facebook.com/groups/baguamen/permalink/3828269237195459/

[sunsetconcert]

Artificer: Armorer. Batman literally built himself a suit that looks like it's organic for the sole purpose of freaking people out. He's stuck gadgets into every inch of his suit, from his boots to his belt to his stupid pointy ears. This is a man who would have fun in a supply closet. His dream day out is to go to a hardware store and buying a mountain of crap to duct tape together. Do not leave this man unsupervised.

Barbarian: Totem Warrior, with a Bat Spirit because… Obviously. Batman is an extremely emotional person, and while he typically restrains himself, he often focuses his extreme emotion into his work. This is a man who had one bad thing happen to him when he was eight and he has held that grudge for the next THIRTY YEARS. That's rage, regardless of how he focuses it.

Bard: College of Glamour. Enthralling Performance. Adam West dancing the Batusi. I don't need to explain this further.

Cleric: Twilight Domain. Probably the least likely option on this list, but very possible. Helm, a Twilight domain deity, represents Vigilance and Protection. He's also a figure clad in a full suit of armour that "represented the weight of his heavy responsibility". Would Batman worship a deity? I do not know, but I do know that Helm would admire the steady and thankless work that Batman continues night after night.

Druid: Circle Of The Moon. Now, he might not be in the wild exactly, but "gathers under the full moon to share news and trade warnings" is very much a Bat Family thing. Look me dead in the eye and say that Batman actually shapeshifting into a bat wouldn't be rad as hell.

Fighter: Battle Master. This is described as "employing martial techniques passed down through the generations". And well-rounded fighters of great skill and knowledge? That's Batman, baby. This man could swing a sword, use a shield, he can use a bow, he's a generalist who knows a bit of everything. And yes, this means Batman knows how to street fight and pull off Greco-Roman style grappling. He's not just a one-trick pony who does traditional eastern martial arts.

Monk: Way Of Shadow. Batman has literally trained with every martial artist in the world, and actively made himself the stealthiest bastard you've ever seen. He is ABSOLUTELY going to be skulking around in the dark. The class description LITERALLY calls them ninjas. Also, Pass Without Trace? Darkvision? Those are things Batman can just do in canon. This is probably the most likely one.

Paladin: Oath Of Conquest. At the age of ten years old, Bruce Wayne gave the simplest Oath a man can give - I Will Destroy Crime. He is called a Knight in canon. There are numerous scenes where he swears in his apprentices. Hell, in the Adam West show, he's almost explicitly an Oath Of Crowns Paladin who holds the law paramount, his word as his bond, courage as his solemn duty, and will always do the right thing even if it hurts him personally.

Ranger: Gloom Stalker. "At home in the darkest places, deep beneath the earth, in gloomy alleyways, and wherever else the light dims. They venture boldly into darkness, seeking to ambush threats before they can reach the broader world." Batman. Hell, you could probably say his favoured terrain is cities. Rangers even get a bonus for thrown weapons, so batarangs are on the table here.

Rogue: Inquisitive is about rooting out secrets and unraveling mysteries, relying on a sharp eye for detail and finely honed ability to read people. This is Batman to a T, as more often than not, he wouldn't get anywhere if he was unable to figure out the puzzles set before him. I would also suggest Mastermind, if you wanted to play more of a "Bruce Wayne as a socialite" character. My personal opinion though? PICKING ROGUE IS A BASIC BITCH ANSWER.

Warlock: THIS IS THE ONE OKAY. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR ME OUT. Batman is a Warlock whose patron is a Great Old One, but more specifically, the Spirit Of Gotham. This adds to the overall element that Batman is being consumed by his work - he ABSOLUTELY IS! The Spirit Of Gotham would TOTALLY be trying to destroy Bruce Wayne, to make Batman an eternal servant to carry out its bizarre whims upon the world!

Wizard: Batman's too scientific to be a wizard.

Saw this running around as a poll on youtube, was curious how different the results would be on tumblr.

[universallychaoticpan]

They thought you were gone

Mikasa x reader where they come back after being presumed dead

Missing. You were missing. Not dead. There was no way in heaven or hell Mikasa would call you dead until she saw a body. Until she had something in her hands that confirmed what everyone else had been telling her for days.

They're gone

You need to accept it

There's no way anyone could survive outside the walls for so long, not even someone as skilled as they were.

You weren't dead. You couldn't be. You'd been second only to her when you were training, you were strong and capable, full of drive and purpose that rivaled even Eren's. Every night, she'd stand atop the walls, watching and waiting, growing hopeful at the slighted movement in the darkness as she held onto hope that you'd come back to her. Eren and Armin saw how it affected her, how the dark circles under her eyes slowly became more and more pronounced as the days wore on. As much as they worried for her, neither had the heart to tell her what she was already hearing day after day. Especially since they knew what you meant to her.

Like most of the 104, she'd met you when training started, eyes full of the same haunted glaze that signified a survivor. You were a fighter, that much she could see. During hand to hand training, she watched you grip the hilt of your wooden blade, studying the curve as intently as if it were the cool metal you were used to. Like Annie, you kept yourself most times, showing exceptional skill level that led to the two of you being paired together so Shadis could evaluate the strongest members of his class. Despite using all the techniques she knew against you, the match ended in a draw, with the both of you covered in dust and sweat.

Needless to say, you'd held her attention from then on.

Slowly, the two of you began to get closer, sitting quietly with your own thoughts, the quiet heavy but not unwelcome. You shared meals together, and you were introduced to Eren and Armin once she'd really begun to care for you. And one night, after everyone else had gone off to the bunks, your relationship grew a little more.

She learned you were from the underground, that you'd been raised as a thief and a pickpocket, and that your parents had sold you off to the military to settle their debts. She told you how she'd watched her parents die, how Eren had rescued her and brought her home, where she'd felt safe for years before the walls fell and her life crumbled again. There was a trust between you that stood strong as the walls themselves, the two of you even beginning to laugh together after a time, twin blushes painting your cheeks the soft pink of the roses Mikasa remembered from her childhood. You traded soft glances, softer smiles, and eventually, sweet kisses were making their way between your lips, tentative and nervous but lovely nonetheless. You'd sit with her hand in your own, tracing the skin of her palm as she watched the dreamy expression in your eyes. You'd fall asleep in her arms when you could, breathing in tandem with her as the hours passed.

It had been a heaven of sorts, until the expedition to retrieve Eren from the armored titan took place. Reeling from Reiner and Betholdt's betrayals, you took off at Mikasa's side as soon as they came into view. You'd fought at her side, eyes wild and swords gleaming in the dying light as the remaining scouts did their best to support you. In that moment, you'd let the battle overtake every part of your being, moving in sync with the woman you'd fallen for, ready to die defending your friend but not willing to go down without fighting with every bone in you, with blood and tooth, going against your enemies with every particle of your body that was screaming out in pain.

After the mission had been called a success, you'd rode off and left Mikasa at her brother's side, offering her a reassuring smile as you rode of to join the right flank.

And that's precisely when disaster struck.

The titans had found the formation, tearing through the flank and leaving a trail of carnage in their wakes. Only after the few surviviors made it back did Mikasa rememeber. And when she did, she felt horrible that it hadn't dawned on her sooner:

You weren't among the crowd of shaking soldiers that had raced back into the safety of their walled cage, weren't one of the faces clad in the emerald green of the scouting legion that she could see. As they read the names the the confirmed dead and missing, she listened tensely as the names passed.

Nick Nostiz

Corinna Hein

Rosalin Proll

Issac Anderlee

Y/n L/n

At the sound of your name, the name that had offered her comfort and love when she'd feared she'd lost so much, she let out a broken sob as she gazed down at Eren's still unconscious body.

There was no way you could be gone.

You wouldn't have let some measly titans get the better of you, not after you'd fought for so long and won. You were a survivor, like her, dammit, you'd gotten through the firestorms of hell and come out the other end with flames gracing your brow like the deity you were. You were the one she could count on to make it through, the person she'd found solace in when her world was falling apart.

No. You were alive, she was sure of it. You were alive, and you were coming home. All she needed to do was wait.

And so she did, standing atop the walls in rain or shine, tears slipping down the round of her cheeks as she gazed out across the landscape, the rolling hills marred by the appearance of the ugly brutes that came crashing through the trees as the war goddess herself cried tears for her lost lover. Because as much as she loathed to admit it, she couldn't deny the creeping acceptance she felt filling the spaces in her mind, the little voice telling her to just let you go growing stronger with each day.

She had been ready to give up the day you returned.

That day dawned cold and rainy, storm clouds rolling up above as she took her post looking south, the way you'd come if you truly were coming home. A pit sat heavy in her chest, knowing this would be the last day she could wait for this way, that she would be leaving for another expedition within the week and could no longer afford to do so.

I'm sorry, me love, she thought to herself. But if you need me, you'll know where to find me. I'll never stop hoping for your safe return, not until your in my arms again.

If she'd have blinked just a second later, she would've missed it. A blur of grey and black picking it's way over the soaked ground, too big to be a deer and to small to be any kind of titan.

It couldn't be-

But it was.

Drapped over the back of your limping horse, your body swaying with the movements of your mount, your hung, totally still and lifeless. Mikasa felt her heartbeat quicken, blood pounding away through her veins sure as a drum as she descended from her position. Scaling down the wall despite the protests of the garrison members keeping watch, her feet hit the muddy ground with a squelch as she began to run towards you. Your horse, recognizing home, began to gallop towards her, eyes wide and afraid. She almost wanted to laugh, to reassure the panicked animal that it was safe. Until, of course, she saw just what your horse was running from.

An abnormal titan, 15 metre class, was charging right at you, chasing you down as you lied helpless on your horse's back. It's face stretched into a grotesque smile as it bore down on you, racing against your vengeful lover as she sprang into action. There was nothing but flat land all around her, and she didn't have time to double back from the trees behind you..she'd have only one chance. She'd seen the captain pull a move like this time and time again, completing the difficult maneuvers with a monotone expression, as if he was bored. Releasing the hooks of her odm gear, she felt the wight pull her body forward as the barbed metal sunk into the titan's flesh. Letting the momentum pull her forward, she glanced once more at your sleeping body, gathering every ounce of strength she had as she brought her blades down...

Right into the titan's neck.

Warm red blood coated her hands, the rain washing it away until you could barely tell it had been there at all. But Mikasa could care less. With her tears mingling with the cool rain, she ran to you, pulling your limp body down as your horse nickered, wiping your own blood from small cuts on your face as your eyes slowly opened to her.

"I knew I'd come home to you."

The words were soft and yet ineffably powerful, pulling a sob from her chest as she, in turn, pulled you close. She felt warm and real where you were cold and so weak she feared you'd slip away any moment. Looking down at you, her lips turned into a watery smile, eyes holding your own while you clung to her strong body.

"I never stopped believing you would."

///

First Mikasa post and I'm sad it took me so long bc I love her sm!!! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enojyed. <3

[nagipops]

Hello!Can I request Giyuu x wind hashira reader who is very kind and compassionate to others (even demons).She’s also a doctor who’s amazing at concocting a medicine ( just like Shinobu) and she’s also Giyuu’s best friend ( She always protect him from Shinobu insults).Thank you very much,feel free to write this if you’re comfortable❣️.Also Sanemi and Shinobu are like her real brother and sister💖)Love ya~Have a great day~💕

FEATHERLIGHT

FEATURING: giyuu tomioka!

SUMMARY: in which your reward after a poignant battle becomes your new motivation.

WARNINGS: blood/gore tw, fem!reader

A/N: loved this prompt! my apologies for this being so late; it got buried in my inbox :( thank you for being so patient, this was incredibly fun to write!

"Ara ara, Tomioka-san," your sister's lilting voice sounded from behind you as the familiar scent of flora enveloped your senses. "Having some fun with my little butterfly again, aren't you?"

"Tch." Giyuu's cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as he swiftly dropped your arm from his grip.

Whirling around to face your sister with a scowl, you cried, "Shinobu! We were just practicing sparring, don't get any ideas!" You could feel your face begin to heat up at your teasing sister.

"Mmm," she raised an eyebrow inquisitively before poking your cheek with a slender finger. "Maybe you should get to work concocting a love potion for a certain someone..."

"That's enough," Giyuu muttered, grabbing a hold of your arm once again. "Come on, let's go practice somewhere with less Shinobu-ing and more room to spar." He cast a murderous glance over your shoulder at your older sister who was innocently waving at the two of you with the sweetest smile on her face.

You gave an exasperated sigh as your best friend dragged you out of earshot from your teasing sister. "Sorry about that, Giyuu, she really is insufferable, isn't she?"

"I'm just lucky you didn't get the same personality as her," he mumbled from up ahead as you navigated through tangled branches and boulders. “Her teasing is relentless.” Although his straightforward words must not have meant much to him, who always says what he truly thinks, they warmed your heart. You made him feel lucky.

“She’s only kidding, you know. She only teases people she really loves.” Taking a deep breath of the cool forest air, you recalled the countless times your older sister had been there for you, training you to create antidotes for all sorts of poisons, fighting off demons for you during perilous missions, and teaching you that the best way to get through a tough situation is to have a smile on your face.

She really did love you, more than anyone you knew. And you returned that love for your only sister.

All of a sudden, the raucous, persistent cawing of a crow circling above interrupted your nostalgic thoughts.

You immediately extended an arm, creating a perch for your Kasugai crow to land on. “What is it, Jiyu?” You soothingly stroked the ebony bird’s soft feathers, receiving grateful beady eyes in return.

“Caw! Sightings of demons reported in the forest in the South! Forest of the South! Wind and Water Hashira, report to the area immediately! Caw!” the crow screeched, tensing its sharp claws on your arm for a second before swiftly darting off into the sky.

You locked eyes with Giyuu, giving him a determined nod before dashing off to the forest in the South.

“There,” Giyuu whispered harshly, directing your gaze to the hulking demon less than ten meters away from you. The two of you were concealed behind a thick tree trunk as you scouted out the clearing, watching as the gigantic monster trundled around the glade.

A bloodcurdling shriek pierced through the air just then, instantaneously cutting off as soon as it sounded. You exchanged a look of horror with your blue-eyed partner, a pool of dread forming in your stomach.

A human life lost...

Heart aching, you sent a quick silent prayer to the gods above.

So many of those screams you have heard, so many lives lost to those demons. Those demons who are forced to live such a cruel, hatred-filled life.

Steeling yourself, you and Giyuu stealthily wove through trees and branches, nearing closer and closer to the demon ahead of you.

Their terror must end here.

The grotesque creature was no more than twelve feet away from you, snarling vilely as it searched the area for any humans. Laying in a bloody heap near its feet was the tiny body of a girl who couldn't have been older than six or seven years old. Stinging tears threatened to spill from your sorrowful eyes as you realized that could have been you many years ago had your siblings not rescued you from that demon.

Demons-- humans, just like you and Giyuu, who were forced to suffer the consequences of heir own unlucky fate. You became a pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps in order to help free these misunderstood creatures from their agony, and reunite them with their lost past. But their sins as demons could not go overlooked.

"Tomioka-san," you whispered to your best friend who was eyeing the drooling monster in front of you, hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sheathed sword. "You take care of the demon, I'll retrieve the girl and see if her life can be salvaged. Understood?"

He only nodded curtly in response, swiftly unsheathing his hefty blade with no more than a minute clink before teleporting to a lofty nearby branch. You remained hidden behind the thick tree trunk, watching Giyuu's fingers closely for a sign to commence the operation.

Giyuu tended to strike from behind with the advantage of the element of surprise, so you watched and waited for the demon's back to turn to him, flipping through your various concoctions stored in the tiny bag on your hip.

You waited, and waited, and waited...

Giyuu's thumb straightened out.

Immediately you were on top of the girl, analyzing all of her vitals and arriving at a diagnosis in a split second: she was still alive.

Injecting serum after serum and stitching up open wounds as the metallic clinks and crashes of battle surrounded you, you snuck glances at how your best friend was faring in combat. The demon appeared to be a formidable opponent, as it wasn't decaying into ashes just yet.

You felt trembling movement from underneath your steady hands.

"Gh..." A bubble of blood spurted from the tiny girl's crusted lips. Retrieving a vial of hydration from your pouch, you quickly wiped off her mouth and held it open as you poured in the refreshing liquid.

"Hello there, thank you for being strong." You hovered over your wounded patient, smiling softly. "I am the wind hashira, and we're here to exterminate the demon that hurt you. You're going to recover in no time, alright?"

The child squinted painfully at you, attempting to reorient herself in her unfamiliar surroundings. "Wh... where am I? Where’s my older brother?”

"The forest in the South." The sun was beginning to rise, but it was too dangerous to leave the injured victim out in the open clearing. “Your brother is…”

A wounded cry rung through the air just then, snapping your attention to the fight a few feet away from you. Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach as you saw Giyuu's haori stained in fresh blood, pooling from his chest. He was staggering about, body heaving from the effort to control his breathing as he stared down the demon with venomous eyes. The creature only responded with a warbled cackle as he lunged for your best friend once again.

And you were on top of it in an instant, slicing the wisteria-injected needle-like tip this way and that, targeting the weak points of the demon’s body that Shinobu taught you of which would allow for quicker absorption of the venom. You darted around in such a frenzied blur that the creature could barely even blink before you appeared in front of Giyuu, shielding him from his tormentor.

“(Y/N), I— I was fine…” He clutched a hand to his crimson-stained chest.

“Tomioka-san, you’re bleeding very badly. I couldn’t leave you to get hurt.” You spotted the girl in the middle of the clearing, sitting up and looking around the area with curiosity. Glancing briefly over your shoulder, you assessed what would be the best move for both of them. “Are you able to move?”

“I’ll go help the girl. You— hck… you take care of this.”

A smile formed on your lips as he dashed away at the synchronization the two of you always shared. It was like you could read each other’s thoughts.

A pained howl snapped you back to reality as the demon in front of you seized and whined in pain as the poison began to kick in. One of the only differences between you and your older sister was that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy at the elongated suffering your fighting technique brought upon your target in their final moments before death.

What did they think of? What were they feeling? Who did they want to cry out for?

The demon thrashed once before every single muscle in their body froze, and their mutated body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. You stepped closer to them, locking your apologetic eyes with their four frightened ones as they trembled in fear.

Lightly tracing their gnarled neck with the edge of your sword, you whispered, “I’m sorry. Please cross over safely, where your loved ones will await you.” You pressed the blade into their neck, various crimson fluids spilling out—

“Si… ster…”

You stopped.

Flakes of gray skin began to crumble away.

“Where… little sister…”

Your thumping heart froze in your chest.

The body in front of you continued to disintegrate.

“I’m… so sorry…”

It burned and burned and burned, until smell of ash and death was all that remained of the little girl’s older brother.

The glade was enveloped in the warm, glittering glow of dawn as the shimmering rays of sun trickled in through the thinning treetops.

A pair of kakushi had escorted the little girl away, who had been blubbering with tears as she was dragged away from the remnants of her demonized brother.

You knelt before your best friend now, applying an abundance of salves and bandages to his battered chest with a numb buzzing rushing through your veins.

“… Okay?”

You snapped back into reality.

“(Y/N), you’re out of it… are you okay?”

Your eyes latched on to Giyuu’s, who was gazing up at you from your lap with a concerned look.

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Family.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears at bay, nodding softly.

A weight lifted off of your thighs as you wiped at your cheeks, when you suddenly felt arms wrapped tightly around your trembling body.

Eyes snapping open, you realized that Giyuu was hugging you.

“Giyuu—”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

The labored, uneven breathing near your ear disputed that statement.

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Giyuu… let me take care of you. Please.”

“No. You need it more than I do.”

Arguing with him was useless, and you were so exhausted.

So you let him hold you.

And then he kissed your cheek.

It was only a soft, featherlight peck.

But it was your new motivation to fight.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[x-x-just-a-little-witchyy-x-x]

Circle Casting

Circle-casting is one of the foundational skills of Wicca and witchcraft. Often, it’s one of the first things that newbies learn to do as part of their training.

But circle-casting is a complex idea, even though the techniques are rather simple. Whether you’re casting a circle for the first time or thousandth time, it never hurts to think about what, exactly, you’re doing and why. In this article, we’ll get “back to basics” on circle-castings, and also consider some of the finer points of building the Witch’s circle.

What is circle-casting?

Circle-casting refers to the practice of setting up a temporary space for magick or ritual. It is, by definition, round. Circle-casting is a term that’s most commonly used in Wiccan traditions, but other magick users may cast circles, as well. The magick circle is a mobile temple, a place apart from the ordinary world where magickal happenings can more easily occur.

Generally speaking, the circle is put up at the beginning of the rite by the leading priest and/or priestess. Solo practitioners cast circles, too. At the end of the ritual, the circle is released. (More on that later.)

A circle is a psychic boundary. You can’t see it with your normal five senses. However, a properly cast circle is detectable energetically and/or clairvoyantly by someone who has those skills. The magick circle is said to extend through the worlds—not just the physical plane, but the astral planes as well.

Why cast a circle?

There all kinds of factors that can interfere with ritual magick: Distractions from the mundane world, the contrary wills of others, chaotic entities that feed off the Witch's efforts, just to name a few. Casting a circle is one way to shut out disruptive influences and stay focused on the work. Magickal trance can be a psychically vulnerable state, so many Witches cast the circle with psychic protection in mind.

Just as important as the circle’s outer barrier is its inner one. Magickal energy—like all energy that we know about—tends to bounce around and scatter off into the Universe. Motion is its natural habit. The whole point of ritual is to concentrate some of that energy temporarily, for a purpose. A circle allows you to gather more energy up and hold onto it longer. If your work involves the evocation of spirits or deities, a well-built circle offers them a cozy place to land for the duration of the rite.

We can summarize all this by saying a magick circle has two main purposes: To keep disturbances out, and to keep the energy of the ritual in. This is certainly a vast oversimplification. So we’ll do it one worse and say the circle is a tool to make your magick stronger.

I’ve heard the circle described as a vessel, a workbench, a fence, a welcome mat, a spaceship, a gate, a bubble, and many other metaphors. Like the story of the blind men and the elephant, all of these words describe something about the circle, without really being a complete explanation of what it is.

How do you cast a circle?

There are simple and complex ways to cast a circle (and all points in between). You can cast a circle with tools or without, either aloud or silently. All methods of circle-casting require concentration or visualization, and a commitment to the belief that the circle is real.

A traditional circle has four cardinal points, set equidistant around the circle’s circumference. They are linked to the four directions, the four Elements, and the Wiccan seasonal calendar. I think of the Quarters as ancient intelligences that appear in many of the world's religions. If you prefer, you can think of them as tent poles that balance the circle’s shape and energy.

These are all common practices in circle-casting: Visualizing the boundaries of the circle, walking the circumference of the circle, cutting a barrier with a knife or sword, calling the Quarters, lighting candles, placing objects around the edge of the circle, ritual cleansing of the space inside. Your casting may use a few of these elements, or all of them.

The following is an example of a very simple circle-casting technique: Visualize a ring of light at the edges of your ritual space. The light burns and purifies the space within the circle. Take some deep breaths, and focus on the pulse of energy within your body. Feel the heat and light of your own energy expand with every exhalation. That light also has a fiery, purifying effect on the space between you and the circle. When you feel the warm edges of your own energy reach that boundary of the circle, clap your hands together and say, “As I will, the circle is cast.”

Some people prefer to cast the circle with the aid of various tools: The athame, a length of cord, stones or candles for each of the quarters. These items can be very helpful in setting up the boundaries of the circle.

The larger and more public the ritual, the more tools tend to be used, since attendees may not be accustomed to the ins and outs of circle-casting. Large public circles often use multiple callers, altars at the Quarters, chants and written evocations to help make the circle more visible.

There is no method that is better than the others. The strength of the circle will depend on the will of the participants and other factors (such as the psychic geography of the place where the circle is cast).

Is circle-casting necessary for magick?

No, certainly not. The magick circle is not used in every tradition. Norse, Kemetic (Egyptian), and many shamanic and folk magick practitioners work just fine without one. Circle-casting is a useful technology, not a hard-and-fast rule.

The Witch’s magick circle is a legacy from the grimoires of Western ceremonial magick, what is sometimes called Solomonic magick. Its original purpose was to protect the conjuror from demons and fallen angels, and to assert the authority of God over such rebellious spirits. This commanding, adversarial approach to magick is now out of step with how many magicians view their relationship with the spiritual world.

Among Wiccans and others who do cast circles, most will say that not every act of magick requires a full-blown circle-casting. Meditation and devotional practices (such as giving offerings) often take place outside of the formal circle. Experienced Witches may choose to cast a circle only when they feel they need the extra protection and focus.

Can a circle cast itself? This is a fascinating topic! While circle-casting is far from universal, the concept of the aura, or energetic field around the body, has traction within many more spiritual paths. Many people have observed or felt this permeable barrier of energy. If you think of the magick circle as an extension of the aura, circle-casting becomes a lot less Wicca-specific.

When working magick with others outside of a formal circle, I’ve sometimes noticed the collected energy take on a circle-like shape. (Or a blob, at least). Other have commented on this phenomenon, too. It may be that the magick circle is something that forms spontaneously as the energy of the participants knits itself together.

How large should the circle be? What shape?

Nine feet in diameter is the traditional size for the Wiccan circle. Nine, or three times three, is an important number in Wicca. The customary nine-foot ritual cord, folded in half, is anchored in the center and walked around to trace out the circle’s edge. The resulting circle will be just over 27 feet in circumference.

The nine-foot circle is not a commandment, just a suggestion. Feel free to tailor your circle to your needs and the available space.

How small is too small? The circle should be large enough to completely contain the Witch and his or her ritual items. You don’t want to accidentally penetrate the edges of the circle while gesturing or reaching during ritual. For group rituals, you want to leave enough space for people to maintain a comfortable distance from each other. (If that is in fact the goal…no judgement here.)

If you’re working in a bedroom or other small space, the nine-foot circle may not be practical. Cast a circle that fits the space. It’s better to have a circle that’s small and round, rather than a larger one with boundaries that extend through walls, furniture, etc. Ideally, the circle should include the altar (if there is one), ritual tools and nothing else—no other items that could pose a hazard or distraction during the ritual.

Theoretically, there’s no upper limit to the size of a magick circle. But smaller is often better. I’ve worked with groups that cast circles to the edge of a building or field to miminize the disruption from people wandering in or out. These circles are not very round, and they don’t have sharp boundaries. They tend to dissolve well before the ritual is over. Smaller, tighter circles are just easier to visualize and maintain.

Now that we’ve covered circle size, here’s a few words about shape. A lot of people visualize the cast circle as a ring of energy laying on the ground like a hula hoop. Some people visualize it as a vertical tube (or stack of circles) standing up like a paper towel roll. Some people visualize it as a sphere, extending into the ground and up overhead. Some go with a cone, with the circle at its base. That’s all fine. It’s really up to you and how many dimensions of visualization you’re comfortable with.

Circles are made of energy, and there are subtlely different energetic functions to each of these shapes. As you grow more experienced with circle magick, you may find that some shapes are better than others for certain tasks. If you’re working with a group, make sure you’re on the same page, shape-wise.

However, don’t worry about the people who say that a simple two-dimensional circle is inferior or ineffective or dangerous. That’s just wankery. Fundamentally, it’s always intention that matters. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that nobody’s ever died because their ritual circle didn’t have a lid on top. If you intend your circle to be impenetrable and set it up that way, no baddies are going to be hopping the fence like goats in a garden…trust me.

What does being in circle feel like?

Being in a really solid circle is a bit like having an orgasm. You can read about it and get some ideas…but when you have one, you’ll know.

People experience all different kinds of sensations while standing within a ritual circle. Heightened sensations of energy and a distorted sense of time are common. Words, images, and objects within the circle may take on special significance. The boundaries of the circle can feel quite strange—giving off heat, resistance, or a tingling feeling when you approach them. It’s also normal for objects beyond the boundary of the circle to appear hazy or out-of-focus.

Here are some notes about standing inside magickal circles:

Being in circle is like having a lucid dream. It feels real and not-real at the same time.

Being in circle is like being wrapped up in a blanket that smells like you.

Being in circle is like being in an airplane cabin with the pressure turned up too high.

Being in circle is like being very tall and still with your feet deep in the ground and your head among the star.

Being in circle is like looking at an alien planet through frosted glass.

Being in circle is like being able to move while the rest of the world is frozen.

How do you take down a circle?

When the ritual has ended, it’s time for the circle to be taken down. Some Witches call this “opening” the circle, while some call it “closing” the circle. Both phrases mean basically the same thing. The language can be confusing, so I usually seek out other words to describe the dissolution of a magick circle.

Releasing the circle allows the energies contained to dissipate, and the room or patch of ground to return to its pre-ritual state. There are many techniques that can be used to help the energy to disperse, such as ringing a bell or visualizing the walls of the circle dissolving. Gathering ritual tools and putting them away also helps scatter any lingering energy. The sensation of taking down a circle can vary in intensity, from a slow fade to a dramatic rush as the circle collapses back into the aether.

If a formal circle has been cast, formally un-casting it is good form. Often this means following the circle-casting ritual in reverse. For example, say the circle was cast by walking the circumference clockwise, then calling the Quarters, then lighting a candle on the central altar. You could un-cast it by blowing out the candle, releasing the Quarters in reverse order, and finally by walking the circumference counter-clockwise. Ideally, the person or persons who cast the circle should be in charge of taking it down. (If necessary, another person can take over.)

What if you fail to properly shut down the magick circle? It will eventually fade away on its own, usually within minutes or hours. Ley lines, water features, and heavy foot traffic are some of the things that can cause the circle to fade away faster. Temple furnishings, buried crystal or metal deposits, and regular use of an area can slow the dissipation of the circle’s structure. Using a pendulum or dowsing rods can help you detect the presence of lingering energy in a ritual space.

The cast circle is never more than a temporary psychic construction. However, leaving an unattended circle is a weak coda to your magickal working. It also can leave an open portal through which unwanted entities can travel. For best results, always pack up your circle when you’re done.

Information found on: https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/circle-casting-basics-all-you-need-to-know-about-magick-circles

[twistedisciple]

Cuts You Up [Griss & Caeldori]

@venalier

had they been that desperate for substituting faculty? or was this man a reforming bandit under supervision of the church, and this class section his first test of responsibility? caeldori hadn't calculated for having to watch the instructor today too, but it's exactly what she does, furrowed brow tracking the bare-chested man as he stalks in a lazy circle towards the training implements and appears to deem them unworthy. it's just her luck, really. or maybe, put another way, there was a chance they'd done this knowing that she'd be in charge. was that arrogant of her to hope for? she'd certainly proven herself capable of handling misfits in the past. whoever this was intended to be a test for, or if it was intended to be at all, she watches as he whips the rest of the class into action as barbarically as he'd greeted her. it works, sure, but the look on his face as he watches them scramble to avoid his fury unsettles her. ( something about it... doesn't seem like just the average bandit. ) as if sensing her scrutiny, he turns on her next with a now deceptively placid look she knows better than to trust. " ... all right. there's a beginning part that i should do to honor the blade and the teacher, but in the interest of time, i can skip that for now." one hand settles on the weapon at her hip, just under the guard. even apparently satisfied, there's a hunger in the way he eyes her that she can't trace — is it how he always looks? the energy about him feels a little different from a moment ago when he'd seemed almost bored listening to her recount the itinerary. she'll worry about it after. all her focus has to be on a demonstration if she wants to give a good one. "please step back. the training weapons are wood, but i was taught using a blunted sword, so that's what i'll be using. it's not sharp, but it could still hurt if you're in the way." acknowledging and ignoring the few pairs of eyes that've drifted in their direction upon sensing something about to happen, caeldori brings her other hand to the iaito's bound hilt and takes a preemptive step back before settling her stance and shifting her focus to her breathing. years of instruction, the aroma of the particular kind of grass and loam that surrounded the village of her deeprealm — impressions of it filter back in behind her senses like fine mist. her grip tightens, and she begins the first of the kata.

“Sure, sure.” Griss nods dismissively. As long as she was going to demonstrate the technique, he didn’t care if she “honored the blade” or whatever other traditional, though impractical, steps went with it. He’s pretty sure he’d seen one of Princess Ivy’s retainers do the same, back when he was floating around Elusia’s castle with little else to do but wait for orders, so at least their respective countries’ swordmasters had that much in common. In an act of surprising deference, he takes a step back from Caeldori to give her the space she requested, but his eyes remain fixed hungrily on her blade. To their onlookers, he would merely look attentive, a perfect student in his own right.

The stillness is the quiet before a thunderclap. They both move lightning-quick. The blade flashes, tastes blood. Gasps turn the rest of the heads to gape. The not-so-hapless victim, a mere two steps from where he had stood, laughs, and the scene is in motion once more. He wicks the bubbling blood from the new, shallow cut across his middle with his thumb, then licks it clean with too much enthusiasm and too little shame.

“Not bad for a blunted sword.” He chuckles, refusing to let Caeldori run from his stare. “Feels better hitting a person, doesn’t it? Get to see what it takes to draw blood too.” Straw effigies didn’t offer the same sort of satisfaction. The straw wasn’t dense enough, and they couldn’t move. But more importantly, nothing came out of them either. No screams, no blood, no entrails, and none of the trauma that would send these brats fleeing from their comrades in the midst of battle because they had never seen anything but straw and cotton spill onto their feet.

Griss breaks the stare to assess his wound, which is already scabbing over in a thin, rusty line. He presses on it with his forefinger. It doesn’t even sting.

“Your schedule’s real cute, but it needs some changes,” he says, and then sends their awestruck audience back to their warmups with a sudden, sharp glare. “First, they’re gonna be using that sword, not the wooden ones. Anyone serious about war can’t be scared of the real deal. And besides--" he opens out his arms, "I'm still in one piece. Now, with only one sword, that means they can’t all do it at the same time, so… smash the demonstration and the practice together. One of ‘em gets up here, tries the technique, the rest watch, got it?” Smirking, he holds up three fingers. “And the last thing: they’re gonna be hittin’ each other. Or me, if Miss Teacher’s Pet is too scared they'll go cryin' to the Archbishop and she won’t get to volunteer anymore.”

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #154

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making one of our most requested builds to date and the final Hassan so far, the First Hassan. He’s uh... not exactly subtle, huh? To make this walking engine of death, take 2 parts Samurai Fighter for some sword skills and magic resistance, 1 part Soulknife Rogue for obscene amounts of damage and an unnoticeable blade, and sprinkle some Grave Cleric to taste, just enough for some supernatural abilities and even more damage.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Our first anniversary! How romantic!

Race and Background

The Old Man of the Mountain was Human a long time ago, but he reached his fame during his undeath, making him a Hollow One. He’s also the closest thing we’re going to get to a Revenant in FGO, as in normal human history he’d only pop up when a younger Hassan needs a lesson in humility. All this adds up to you getting +1 Strength, +1 Wisdom and +1 Constitution, as well as a Relentless Nature that means you gain 1 hit point at the start of your turn while bloodied, you come back to life 24 hours after dying, and you always know exactly where the hassan who fucked up is. The downside to this is your go back to the afterlife as soon as you finish your task here on earth. You are Ageless, which is exactly what it says on the tin. You Cling to Life, so rolling a 16 or higher on a death save is as good as rolling a 20, bringing you back to 1 HP instantly. Your Revenance means you show up as undead when it comes to magical effects that sense that sort of thing, and you can use your Unsettling Presence to give a creature disadvantage on its next save for a minute as an action. You can use that last one once per long rest.

Hoo boy that’s a lot of racial bonuses. Fortunately your background’s nice and simple- as an Acolyte, you get Religion and Insight proficiency.

Ability Scores

You like big swords and big armor, so get that Strength up as high as possible for big swings. After that is Wisdom. We need it for multiclassing and for actually finding the Hassans. Little buggers are sneaky. Third is Dexterity- you don’t really care about stealth, but you are a ghost. Plus we need it for multiclassing. You’re literally undead- that makes you hard to kill. Your Constitution’s not half bad. Your Charisma is okay, you’re good at intimidating people, but you’re not that personable aside from that. Finally, dump Intelligence. I would never call you stupid, you’ve just got more important things to deal with than Arcana and Medicine. I know religion is an intelligence check, we’ll take care of it in a bit.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: If we want that creepy skull armor we’ve got to start as a Fighter, which makes you proficient in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as Intimidation and Perception. Like I said earlier, you’re very scary, and you’ve got to see your target to kill them, which is actually important when you hunt Hassans for an unliving.

You also get a Fighting Style. Your Superior Technique lets you make a Menacing Attack once per short rest. You add 1d6 to your attack’s damage, and if they fail a wisdom save (DC 8+str mod+proficiency) they’re frightened of you for the round.

You also gain a Second Wind which you can use to heal yourself as a bonus action. It’s like your normal healing factor, just a bit faster.

2. Rogue 1: Multiclassing into rogue gives you proficiency with Stealth. It’s not that you care about sneaking around that much, but you are a ghost.

You can also use your Sneak Attack to add extra damage to a blow once per turn. You have to be using a finesse weapon, and either have advantage on the attack or have another ally within 5′ of them.��

Finally, you get Expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency bonus in Intimidation and Religion. 

You also learn Thieves’ Cant. It’s a language.

3. Rogue 2: Second level rogues can use their Cunning Action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a bonus action. You might not really be a ghost here, but you can certainly disappear like one.

4. Rogue 3: At your third level or roguery you become a Soulknife, earning you some serious Psionic Power. You get a number of d6 equal to twice your proficiency bonus, which you can use in a couple different ways. You regain all your psionic dice after long rests, and you can use a bonus action to get one back each short rest.

Currently, you can use psionic dice on your Psi-Bolstered Knack, adding the number you roll to an ability check you’re proficient in. If it succeeds, the die is expended.

You can also use it to activate Psychic Whispers. You can speak telepathically with a number of creatures equal to your proficiency bonus, for a number of hours equal to what you rolled. You also have to be within 1 mile of each other. You can use it once per long rest for free, or by spending a die later.

More importantly, you gain Psychic Blades, melee weapons that deal psychic damage and have finesse. If it hits a creature, it doesn’t leave a mark.

Also your sneak attack is 2d6 now.

5. Rogue 4: We’re not investing too much into constitution, so use your first Ability Score Improvement to get the Tough Feat. This gives you an extra 10 hp now, and 2 more each time you level up from here on out.

6. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues get an Uncanny Dodge, letting you halve the damage on an incoming attack as a reaction. Hitting one of your vitals is a... tricky proposition, to say the least.

You also get a bigger sneak attack this round- 3d6.

7. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge once per short rest. It’ll add an extra action to your turn.

8. Fighter 3: Third level fighters get a martial adept, and the Samurai get their FIghting Spirit. Three times per long rest, you gain advantage on all your attacks for the turn, and gain some temporary HP as a bonus action. Free sneak attacks and more health! It’s a win for everyone!

9. Fighter 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for stronger attacks. Remember, finesse just means you canuse dexterity, not that you have to.

10. Cleric 1: Now it’s time to make things scary. First level Grave clerics can cast and prepare Spells using their Wisdom, like Bane and False Life to scare your enemies even more and make yourself even harder to kill. You also gain a Circle of Mortality, letting you heal creatures for the maximum possible if they’re at 0 HP. You also also learn the cantrip Spare the Dying, which for you has a longer range and shorter casting time.

You also gain Eyes of the Grave, letting you sense undead nearby Wisdom Modifier times per long rest.

For cantrips, you also learn Resistance to be a little bit better than everyone else, Toll the Dead for hopefully obvious reasons, and Thaumaturgy to scare the crap out of anyone who hasn’t run off once the bell sounds.

11. Cleric 2: The real fireworks start now. Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest in one of two ways. The classic Turn Undead is fine, but we’re here more for Path to the Grave. Invoking this as an action gives a target creature vulnerability to you or your ally’s next attack for this round.

12. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters get an Extra Attack each attack action. Attack twice with one action, or four times with two.

13. Rogue 6: Sixth level rogues get another round of Expertise, doubling your proficiency with Stealth and Perception.

14. Rogue 7: Your last level of rogue grants you Evasion, making your failed dexterity saves act like successes, and successes ignore the damage entirely.

15. Fighter 6: Use this ASI to bump up your Strength one last time, maximizing it for the most damage and accuracy possible.

16. Fighter 7: Seventh level samurai become Elegant Courtier, adding their wisdom bonuses to persuasion checks. I’d suggest talking with your DM to change it to intimidation checks for obvious reasons, but that’s on you. This also gives you proficiency with Wisdom saves.

17. Fighter 8: Use this ASI to grab the Sentinel feat, dropping a creature’s movement to 0 when you hit it with an opportunity attack. You can also make opportunity attacks against creatures attacking others, and you can make them against creatures who have disengaged. The perfect weapon to fight against assassins.

18. Fighter 9: Ninth level fighters are Indomitable, letting them re-roll a failed save once per long rest. Protection of the Faithful is a hell of a drug.

19. Fighter 10: Tenth level Samurai have a Tireless Spirit, letting you regain a use of Fighting Spirit at the start of a fight if you’re all out. Your duty doesn’t end. Ever.

20. Fighter 11: Your capstone level gives you another Extra Attack each action, three per turn, or six with your action surge.

Pros:

Having a weapon that leaves no trace is a serious upside for someone like you. Your expertise in stealth also means you have a pretty good shot at avoiding unnecessary fights, even with heavy armor.

You excel at both burst and consistent damage, specializing in hard to avoid psychic attacks. Path to the Grave combined with your Menacing Attack and Sneak Attack will let you deal (6d6+5)*2 damage in a single blow. It’s not as powerful as Sanson’s, but you can use your action surge to set it up a lot easier. That and your maxed out strength makes hitting creatures accurately a lot easier.

With proficiency in two of the three big saves and Evasion propping up your one weakness, you’re pretty solid against magical attacks, which will certainly make dealing with the Hassans a lot easier.

Cons:

Using Path to the Grave for your own attacks is still kind of awkward, and you just have to hope you can get a solid hit in that round. Not much you can do to fix that.

I’m always going to knock a build a point if you have to bend the rules to make it work. Elegant Courtier just doesn’t work for the build rules as written, and technically you can’t use psychic blades for attacks of opportunity. I don’t feel those are massive power shifts, but it’s something you’d have to talk with your DM about, so it’s still a negative.

We don’t need Dexterity at all, except for multiclassing minimums. Starting with that 13 in another ability score would be very useful.

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. eight.

seven < current > nine

Dec. 22-24, 2017

The next couple of days is spent mostly watching the whirlwind of your classmates and teachers preparing. You, Maki, and Yuta are left to your own devices which means you three are often spotted walking aimlessly around campus. You especially have spent the passing days considering what your brothers will be facing, and trying to strategize against the unknown Satoru warned you about. It’s after your daily meditation you decide fuck it.

Everyday as a sorcerer is spent wondering if it’ll be your last. You see horrors far beyond any normal person’s imagination, all to protect people who will never know you exist if you do your job right. To do this job, to be a jujutsu sorcerer, you must constantly be ready to die. You have seen plenty of colleagues' horribly mangled bodies already as a first-year. It’s common. In fact, the fact that your entire class is still alive is an anomaly.  And after meditating on the ever-increasing likelihood that death will touch your life far closer than it ever has before, you decide there is no need to hide feelings that Satoru insists are reciprocated.

You approach Inumaki first, since he was also raised in the jujutsu world and likely to be open to your proposition. You explain all of your reasoning before taking a deep breath and getting to the heart of the issue, “I-I like you. Maybe even love.”

“Salmon,” he beamed, markings exposed in the sanctuary of your room. He’s especially beautiful in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, clutching a stuffed animal he had won for you at a festival years ago.

“But I also like Yuta. I haven’t talked to him yet, but I’m interested in trying this between all of us.” Your hands twist over each other in anxiety. Even with the decision to no longer try to deny feelings, it is hard to be so open. How on Earth did Satoru manage to be so aloof about relationships? You see Toge’s hand cover yours.

“Salmon, bonito flakes,” he reassures, leaning down to catch your eyes. A weight lifts off your shoulders. You didn’t fuck up your friendship and he’s equally interested in a relationship. Inumaki watches you smile for the first time since you dragged him from the hallway. He slowly places a hand on your chin and lifts your head to face him. “Salmon roe?”

You nod, but don’t wait for him to close the gap. Leaning up, you lightly kiss his lips, eyes fluttering close at their softness. There’s a small tingling sensation, one you have long associated with the surge of cursed energy mixing with yours. It's an exhilarating feeling when copying someone's technique, but like this, you think it's addicting. You pull back first, sighing happily with your eyes still closed. You wear matching blushes and smiles.

“I know you have to get back to preparing to leave….” You bite your lip reluctant to let him leave after finally getting a taste. You had known Toge since you were both children thanks to clan meetings. Only in the past year, working closely and interacting frequently, have you realized your feelings for the boy. Now there is a chance to have him and Yuta, if you are able to explain how polyamory isn’t so strange for sorcerers (though historically, it has been accompanied by power imbalances in favor of the strongest sorcerer in the relationship).

“Tuna?”

“Just happy,” you nuzzle your forehead into his neck before sitting up straight. “I’ll talk to Yuta, since we both will be here at the school. Then, if he agrees and when you get back,” you poke a finger in his ribs, “all in one piece, we can talk about how this will work.”

“Salmon,” He gives one more last, quick kiss before leaving your room. You slide to the floor against your door, sighing happily. God, Satoru is going to be so smug. You bite your lip to hide your lovesick smile, pulling your phone out to text him an update on your lovelife.

You didn’t get a chance to talk to Yuta for a while. When you had finally collected yourself enough to leave your room, he was nowhere to be found on campus. The next morning, your class ate breakfast together before everyone left for their posts. Yuta had been there, of course, but he hesitated before sitting across from you and Inumaki (strange on its own - you three often all sat together). Even then, Yuta blushed and avoided eye contact with you and Toge, looking especially flustered at the casual, platonic skinship you shared with everyone. Not to mention the heavy atmosphere of a looming battle. You resolved to find him after everyone left; less people on campus meant less people interrupting, anyways. You sent everyone off with a hug, but your brothers and Toge got an additional kiss on the cheek.

(Megumi made a show of wiping it off and snarling at you. You wonder how long his rebellious phase will last.)

It took a while, but you were finally able to track Yuta’s energy to the empty training room. He was comparing his katana’s blade to a few other swords kept by the school. “You know, half of those are technically on loan from the Gojo clan. The other half is almost entirely from the Zen’in clan, but there’s one or two from Toge’s family and other small clans.” You muse, tracing the intricate design on the handle of one you recognized as belonging to your family. Yuta jumped from your sudden appearance. “Wanna spar? It seems like maybe you’re avoiding me but I wanted to talk to you. If I did something wrong you can get that aggression out before we talk,” You offer.

“No! I-I mean, no, I’m not avoiding you. Yeah, we can spar if you want.”

You smirk a little, “Alright.” You grab one of the wooden staffs next to the actual blades and shrug off your jacket. Gesturing to the center of the room where a circle marks a training ring, you say, “No cursed energy. I haven’t warmed up any.”

Yuta nods and takes his position opposite you. “Ready?” He asks. He waits for your nod before rushing forward, catching you off guard. You click your tongue, surprised at how fast he moved to attack. Your staff connects with a harsh clash, blocking his before it gets too close to your body. He retreats slightly, clearly analyzing you for any weak spots, and asks, “What did you need to talk about?”

“Toge and I and you…. Maybe” Grunting, you move to attack but Yuta side-steps. You plant your feet and use momentum to change your direction to where he now stands. He grits his teeth when you connect a hit. “I know you grew up normally, but we like each other and you.” You take a few steps back, knowing this possible mental blow is best delivered without a physical one. “And I think you like us, too.”

Yuta’s mouth hangs open, gaping at you and loosening his grip on his staff. “W-what? Like - like all three of us -?” He seems unable to complete the sentence.

“Yeah,” You nod, moving forward to sweep his feet out from under him. It’s a simple move, one he learned to avoid months ago, but he seems defenseless right now. You stand and pin him to the ground with the end of your staff against his forehead. “I know it’s somewhat strange out there,” you wave your hand dismissively, “but sorcerers have done it for ages. Toge and I know that, but you don’t have the same background.”

“But I thought - you two kissed!” He points an accusing finger.

“How did you know that?” You frown, cocking your head to the side. You shake the question away, deciding it didn’t matter, and offer a hand to help him up. He ignores it. “I mean, the first hurdle here is knowing if you like both of us.”

Yuta blushes furiously but doesn’t refute you. It takes him a second to recover from how blunt you said it but eventually he manages to spit out an affirmative. The brightness of your smile takes him longer to recover from.

“Great! That’s really good. Toge-kun will be excited to hear that.” You wipe some sweat off your forehead and try to contain your excitement. “Since he’s away right now, I think we should wait to have this conversation in person. Neither of us want you to feel pressured to agree for whatever reason either, so it’ll give you some time to think about it.” You move to leave him alone to do just that, but you can’t stop yourself from giving one last big smile. “I’m really happy you’re even thinking about this, Yuta.”

You spend the rest of the day with your head in the clouds, completely over the moon at the idea of your new relationship. Satoru loses his mind when you call to give a status update, which causes you to dissolve into a puddle of lovesick goo. At dinner, where it’s just you, Yuta and Maki, you can’t help your puppy-dog eyes. Maki kicks your shin several times, embarrassed just from looking at you.

You keep to your word though, so much so when Yuta approaches you on the next day, you ask several times if he is sure he wants to talk now. You hadn’t even had much time to think about the logistics of a poly relationship, too focused on how to keep your preparations a secret. It was surprisingly hard to hide your smuggled bow and quiver until you reached a rooftop near the entrance. Eventually you yield though, and he drags you to an empty classroom. “(y/n), I really want to tell you not to take this the wrong way, but honestly, there’s no right way to take it.” You feel your stomach drop, but he continues, oblivious. “I just can’t be in a relationship.”

“Like, in a relationship with Toge and I specifically?” You’re not sure where the strength to ask that question came from. You’re not even sure you want to hear the answer.

“Yes,” He finally makes eye contact. “I mean, no! God,” Yuta runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I’ve never had to reject anyone before, jeez. You two, both of you,” he blushes heavily, “are the only ones I see myself in a relationship with. I just can’t be in one when I have Rika. It doesn’t feel right.”

You nod, trying to hide the hurt and embarrassment you think you just might drown in. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yuta sighs.

“Well, I guess I’ll tell Toge then. Unless you wanted to?” You offer hopefully, but he shakes his head. “Alright. I hope we can still be friends, Yuta.” You instinctively go to hug him but stop yourself halfway. Muttering a soft apology, you brush past him to leave.

You go straight to where you had hidden your bow, bringing along a sword for close-ranged fighting. All borrowed from the school, but you made sure to take ones originally from the Gojo clan as an extra reassurance. You really needed that reassurance now.

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Century War of Wyverns, Part 2: Chase the French Soldier

[Previous] [Contents] [Next]

Kat: Our first encounters in a strange new land! It... doesn't go well tbh, but I'm sure the next one will!

Cris: Turns out Spartacus doesn't understand "the back of your blade" very well.

Jeanne: {CWs for violence against humans, death, first-person panic attack}

------

God dammit, how the hell can that mountain of muscle move so fast? We barely got a word in edgewise and he’s already left us in the dust! If we don’t get there in time those soldiers are gonna be a big red smear on the ground. One more hill, and… he’s just… standing there, having a conversation with them? He gestured towards the one in the gaudiest uniform before walking over.

Spartacus: Placet expectare.

Spartacus: Ah master, there you are! I have glorious news! These soldiers are themselves fighting against the oppression of a false king! Of course, a true king is also oppressive in its own way, but still! Their leader even speaks latin! Roughly.

French General: C'est ton géant ?

Kat: <Ooh, ooh! I got this! Time for all that duolingo to do its thing!>

April (Kat): Bonjour, garcon!

I internally rolled my eyes as the soldier blanched.

Cris: <Kat. Garcon means boy. Let’s try something else.>

April (Cris): (Hey, Mash, do you know French? Mine’s a little rusty.)

Mash: (Sorry master, I barely know enough to say hello.)

April (Jeanne): (Well, English is a common lingua franca, might as well try that, right?)

Cris: <Good idea!>

Mash: Wait, that’s-

April (Cris): Sorry about that, tried to be polite, don’t actually know that much French. The big guy’s with us, and we were hoping you… could… Ah, fuck.

The soldiers had already surrounded us. Cries of “L’Anglais!” erupted around us as they pointed their spears in our direction.

Mash: The French are at war with England in this time period!

April (Cris): I gathered, yeah.

Spartacus: So now they seek to oppress us as well?

Mash: What are your orders, master?

April (Cris): Take them down but try not to kill the idiots. Uh… hit them with the back of your blade, or something.

Mash lifted her shield up quizzically.

Mash: And what part of this, exactly, is the blade?

April (Cris): Dammit, just try not to kill them!

Even holding back, it was clear the soldiers were no match for Mash Kyrielight. She ran circles around them, their every attack parried as their weapons shattered against their shield. Even three on one, the soldiers didn’t stand a chance. Meanwhile, Spartacus ha- oh God.

I faltered, stumbled off the road and retched. If Mash had a spotless technique, Spartacus’ was nothing but spots. He simply walked from soldier to soldier and shattered their bodies with his fists. He hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword. The few soldiers Mash pacified were bruised, but relatively unharmed. The ones unlucky enough to face Spartacus weren’t going to get back up.

The forest span <Jeanne?> around me. I know someone was calling our name, but I couldn't <Jeanne!> hear anything beyond the blood rushing to my head. My chest hurt, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't- <JEANNE!>

A sharp sting as my hand slapped my cheek. Cris stopped me from spiraling again. I took a moment to breathe properly.

April (Jeanne): Okay… Okay, I’m good. I think.

I slowly stood up and made it back to the others. The surviving French soldiers had already made their escape. Mash’s spirit origin was shaking. I put my hand on her shoulder as I got closer.

April (Jeanne): Mash, are you alright?

Mash: I should be asking you that, Master. I’m… I can’t believe it, but I’m still not used to this.

April (Jeanne): It’s only been a day or two Mash, you don’t have to force yourself to be okay with this.

Mash: A day? Oh, right.

Spartacus: Mmh. It might be better for you two if you don’t become comfortable in these sorts of things. The two of you are unoppressed by the experience of warfare. Hold that close to you.

Mash: Right. Thank you, Spartacus. So, what’s our next move?

April (Cris): Right, I hate to do this, but… we need to follow the soldiers that ran off.

Spartacus: Ahah, we must finish the fight then?

April (Cris): NO! Nonono. I mean, they’re going to run to the nearest place with people. They’re our only lead right now. Did you see which way they went, Spartacus?

Spartacus: Of course! Follow me!

----

On our way, we got in contact with Dr. Roman again. Turns out our plugsuit comes equipped with a translator- would have come in handy earlier, but fuck it, at least we won’t have to fight literally everyone we come across.

The sky was turning red when we finally saw the smoke clouds over the horizon. We rushed over a hill and finally got a look at the fort. It was in bad shape. Walls crumbled in, with smoke and fire billowing out from several windows. Dark shapes moved through the smoke, obscured in a haze.

Another wall fell over as we descen-

Kat: <Hey, look! Isn’t that one of the soldiers?>

Sure enough, one of the survivors of Spartacus’ rampage was kneeling at the top of the hill.

April (Cris): Hey! Hey you! Don’t fucking run, I’m talking to you!

The soldier had started, but before he made it to his feet we were already surrounding him. He was speaking too fast to translate at first, so I just pressed on.

April (Cris): Look, I get it if you don’t believe us, but we’re not gonna kill you.

April (Jeanne): We have traveled a long way because we heard something very, very bad was happening here. Please, can you tell us what is going on?

French Soldier: Oh, and what are the English going to do about it?! Insult her and run away?

Cris: <Apparently we can do a lot fucking more than your soldiers can.>

April (Jeanne): We have fought worse. Now, who is this “her”?

French Soldier: You’ve fought worse than Jeanne d’Arc? Hah! Unlikely!

Mash: Jeanne d’Arc? She should be dead by this point!

French Soldier: That is the worst part, she is! She was dead for three days, when the Saint of Orleans appeared out of nowhere and started razing all of France to the ground. She’s been tearing around with an Army of monsters for days now! Even King Charles couldn’t stand up to her!

April (Jeanne): Thank you. We will figure out a way to stop this, I promise.

By the time we got closer to the ruined fort, whatever had caused so much damage had long since disappeared. However, I could still make out faint traces of enchantment on some of the bodies scattered around the field.

April (Jeanne): Roman, I'm noticing something off about this corpse. What do you make of it?

Mash: Senpai, we really should get out of the open while there’s still daylight.

April (Jeanne): Give Roman a second, Mash. I'm sure there's something off about it.

Roman: Huh. Good catch, April. This body had been treated for necromancy. Large-scale necromancy is certainly rare, but it’s still possible with or without a holy grail. Either way, it’s good to have an idea of what we’re up against.

We entered the keep. Walking around was a nightmare, it was as if every square inch of space was taken up by the injured. Their groans echoed through the fort. Suddenly, I felt something on the edge of my scanning area. It was faint, but unmistakable. A spirit origin.

April (Jeanne): Mash, do you feel that?

Mash: Barely. There must be a servant outside the castle.

April (Jeanne): No, about thirty feet in that direction. Does anyone catch your eye?

Mash: There’s no one there who could be a servant, Master.

Cris: <This is pointless, let me look.>

Kat: <No way! You got to yell at the guy, lemme look, lemme look!>

Yay, I won! I turned where Jeanne was pointing. The whole place was just beat up soldiers & less beat up soldiers taking care of them. Oh, there’s one! A little girl is going around comforting people as they fall asleep!

April (Kat): What about that little girl? The one dressed in all white? Can she be a servant?

Roman: That’s not likely. Servants are invariably summoned at the “peak” of their myth. It’s possible for child prodigies to be summoned young, but the vast majority will either be young adults when they are most powerful, or at old age when they are most skilled. You guys should get some rest while you can. I’ve detected a leyline a day’s travel from here, you should set out in the morning.

We found a spot near a wall and curled up to sleep. I don’t remember much of my dreams, but when I woke up it was still dark. That girl was still tiptoeing around the soldiers, and every now and then I caught her singing, at barely above a whisper.

That was weird enough, but then something amazing happened! The soldier she was standing next to, his wounds suddenly shrank, until it was like he never got hurt at all! He shifted in his sleep, and she moved on to the next one.

April (Kat): (I knew it!)

I pulled myself out of our pile as slow as possible, and inched closer to her.

April (Kat): Excuse me?

Little Girl: Hello miss. (Please keep your voice down, people are sleeping!)

April (Kat): (Oh, sorry! This might sound weird, but… are you a servant?)

Little Girl: (I am a faithful servant of God, yes. Is something wrong?)

April (Kat): (That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean are you human?)

A strange look crossed the girls face.

Little Girl: (I was. Let’s talk outside.)

She led me by the hand out of the castle. She had such a strong grip, it was kinda awkward! Once we were a bit away, she turned to face me. Suddenly, a spear covered in flags appeared out of nowhere and landed in her hands!

Little Girl: As you have guessed, I am indeed a Servant, Lancer class. My true name is Jeanne d’Arc.

[beyondthetower]

Songs of Gronder Field (Annette x Felix)

Summary: Felix runs to Annette after the post time-skip battle at Gronder Field

Characters/Pairing: Annette x Felix

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Spoilers for Azure Moon maybe?

A/N: Way more angst than I was intending oops. Inspired by this beautiful art piece by @meintaiko​! I’m obsessed with this art piece and it got my Netteflix feelings raging.

Nobody had known about them. He liked it that way. In all honesty, even Felix wasn’t sure he knew what they were. There had been a few moments of weakness; moments when the soft, cheerful sounds of Annette singing would drift into his path and momentarily cause a crack in his carefully built walls. He had tried to poke fun with his dry, sarcastic remarks, but after years of being apart he found himself seeking her voice out when he walked around the monastery. Until he finally got found out, hiding outside of the greenhouse, listening to her sing and wanting nothing more than to sit with her while she did it.

Of course, he regretted her knowing it. Telling her had been another moment of softness that made him angry at himself. But when she noticed him standing outside, watching the sky as he listened to her soothing voice, he was too flustered to lie. She hadn’t laughed at him, really. And she continued to sing for him. But other than that, he hadn’t seen her too much. He avoided her most of the time. Unless she was alone where he would sit with her and listen to her work, occasionally answering her questions or chuckling at her clumsiness. 

He liked what they were. He liked that she never questioned him, or pestered him, but rather just let him find her when he needed to. He liked that she would find too, when he locked himself away at the training grounds alone. She would curl up on the stone wall, studying, and wait patiently for him to come sit quietly with her. When he did, she hummed absent-mindedly to herself. She didn’t force conversation. It was easy. It was unattached. He liked easy and unattached. 

War, it seemed, changed him. After the professor had disappeared all of the Blue Lions had parted ways. He had gone back to Fraldarius territory to help his father hold back the Empire troops. Annette had spent some time with Ingrid in Galatea territory before making her way back to Fhirdiad. The change that occurred in her absence wasn’t exactly obvious at first. It hadn’t hit him until he saw her again at Garreg Mach: he had missed her. 

He noticed it first in his fighting. His technique had changed. Specifically, it had gotten worse. His footwork was sloppy, his mind was foggy, and he found himself anxious at the idea of going back into battle. This day was no exception. The one thing he had been training for all his life and here he was, standing in the middle of Gronder Field, on the verge of tears. 

A post-battle hum had settled over the landscape. Patches of high grass simmered in smoke left over from the attacks between former classmates. 

Classmates.

They had been his classmates. He had sparred with them, eaten lunch with them. He had watched them dance to stupid songs across the floor of the reception hall and listened to stupid gossip about the Goddess Tower. 

Now his sword was stained with their blood.

Felix turned to face what was left of his own army. He had been used to a similar feeling in their Academy days: glancing around to make sure that bandits hadn’t gotten the best of Ingrid or Sylvain or even Dimitri. This time was different though. This time his eyes seemed to have an acute focus that he couldn’t pin down. That was, until he saw her. 

Out in the distance, Annette stood up from behind a cluster of boulders, dusting off her arms and calling out to Mercedes who hurried over and hugged her fiercely. Felix’s breath caught in his chest, and a weird mixture of relief and unmanageable fear sprang through his veins. He hadn’t talked to her much since the reunion. But as he saw Annette standing there, apparently given a clean bill of health from Mercedes, he absentmindedly moved toward her. He hadn’t realized he had been running, not until he was close enough to see the surprise in Annette’s face as he got closer. The blue-green currents of her eyes flinching and startled.

Without thinking, Felix threw his arms around her. 

She was so small, he realized. He himself wasn’t a large guy, but she fit so perfectly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her in the kind of bear hug that illustrated the fierce protection he often felt over her. Hee realized as he held her that her protection hadn’t been his motivation for crashing into her now; it was his own. 

“Felix-” Annette said quickly. 

He said something back, his words muffled by her hair. She looked around with wide eyes, realizing that people were staring. Mercedes had excused herself, turning her back to them and trying to distract Sylvain and Ingrid as they limped toward them in confusion. Ashe had made his way over, doing a double take but trying to make himself busy with his bow.

“What?” Annette said, realizing she hadn’t made out what he had said.

Felix pulled away, his hands still grasping her waist. “Sing something,” he said sharply. “Anything, that stupid swamp beastie song I don’t care just-” His voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut while the shame of weakness washed over him. Shame that only began dissipating when he felt the soft touch of a hand on his cheek. 

When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see that his vision was blurred. He blinked a few times, hoping it would clear the fog from his sight, but was horrified to see that it had only shaken free tears from his eyelashes that landed on Annette’s cheek. 

“Hey,” she said. “It’s okay.” 

Felix shook his head angrily, suddenly aware of the heat rising in his cheeks and the eyes of his classmates staring from a few yards away. Feet shuffled around him, making him horribly aware that people could see them. He was careless. He had let his guard down. In front of his classmates for that matter. Classmates that, yes, were allies, but could very easily be enemies. He had learned that quickly. Anyone could turn against you. Anyone could use those weaknesses against you. Should any of his so-called friends turn against him they would have that weakness. His weakness. Her.

Felix felt his knees buckled underneath him. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him and didn’t protest when Annette reached for him again. She hovered over him, cradling the back of his head with one hand and steadying him with the other. 

For the first time, at least the first time in his recent memory, Felix let himself fall apart. His forehead fell against Annette’s shoulder, and through his shaking breaths he could feel the tears continue to fall, sinking into the fabric of her jacket. He hated the way it made him feel: small and fragile and weaker than he was supposed to be. His brother had died in battle for heaven’s sake. He knew the reality of war. He had trained his entire life for the kind of battle he had been through that day. So why did it feel so hard?

There had been a darkness, he realized, that had seeped its way into his world. It had always been there, he was sure, lurking around the corner and waiting for his breaking point. Waiting for Duscur. 

When Glenn died it took root in his soul. It grew around his bones and built him that sturdy armor of emotional distance that made him the kind of warrior he strived to be. It had come full circle, it seemed. It had sniffed out this momentary lapse in sturdiness--the wavering fear he felt in killing those he used to call peers--and was ready to strike it down. He could feel himself blooming into something different. Something dark. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted. 

But then there was a splinter of light. And Annette’s voice broke through the cracks of his armor again. “It’s okay,” she breathed. Her breath was warm on the back of his neck, bringing him back to that post-battle stillness. Bringing him back to something that felt more like himself. 

Felix tried to bury himself deeper into her shoulder. Crawling further into this new, safe, space that felt like home. He didn’t want that darkness to take hold. He didn’t want those roots to grow. He had found a new safeguard that she had planted and tended with those stupid songs and her cheerful laugh and the soft way she touched him. 

“Oh how I just love to clean, clean the Library room…” 

Felix could feel the pounding in his chest dissipating. His breath, labored as it was, started to regulate again. Annette stroked his hair in slow steady movements and he tried to match his breaths with it. He could feel her cheek pressed against his temple, her He listened as she sang about blowing up the library and almost smiled. 

“It’s a stupid song,” Felix said quietly. He felt a shift and an exhale that sounded like an attempt at a laugh. 

“Would you rather something else?” she countered. “Maybe one of the Saint Hymns?”

“No,” he told her. And he meant it. 

Felix could feel her smile against his skin. She pressed a small kiss to his hair and went on with her song. He traced his thumb in small circles on her back as his hands hung limp against her coat. Having her within arms reach, within earshot, was enough to bring him back toward himself.

The war wasn’t done. There were sure to be plenty of other battles like this one, scary enough to shake him to his core. But maybe...maybe if he could still be near her, still be close enough to hear her voice or to call out when he needed her, that would be enough to get him through it.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Sometimes I want to fast forward Astrid and Adam’s relationship to get to the good bits instead of the whole pushing away, trying to be patient but patience has its limits thing.

Like

Adam being included in Astrid’s best friend circle because if he’s special to her, then that means that he’s suddenly become special to Tony and Markus.

This being said, both Tony and Markus will tear him limb from limb while hexing him with the worst curses imaginable if he hurts their best friend. “Anyway, wanna beer? Do you drink? I don’t know if we need to break into a blood bank for a cold one or if we’re overthinking this.”

Casually coming home after work and dropping on the sofa to snuggle, Adam barely looking up from his work but still lifting an arm up for her to curl under and when she’s settled, moving to kiss the top of her head and ask about her day

That “I just got back from an away mission you couldn’t go on because of your civilian work, let me hold you for a bit to center myself” hug where the world feels right again

Trying not to make snippy comments at Fiona because Adam realizes that while they both love Astrid in very different ways, the fact that Astrid wants to spend time with them together means that tentative truces need to be made after several centuries of being frenemies. They’re still on for their secret weekly to the almost-death matches, but they try not to maim the other as badly. (This doesn’t stop Fiona from letting her pixies booby trap his Facility locker with fine glitter or glitching up his phone because Adam didn’t specifically stipulate that pixie pranking was off-limits and Fiona is a master at finding loopholes.)

Adam harboring a weird, silent jealousy towards Chris Hemsworth even though the chances of Astrid ever meeting her celebrity crush are so microscopic that they’re in the negative numbers. Doesn’t stop him from growing out his hair and styling it like him though.

Sir Cashew adopting Adam as his new dad and riding around on his shoulder because he’s an inch or two taller than Astrid and Cashie likes to be up high.

Astrid dragging Adam to the Saturday Afternoon parking lot plant Sell and Swap where several amateur gardeners get together in the parking lot of the Save-A-Lot and trade cuttings or bring sickly plants to see if anyone can help nurse them back to health. Adam gets to carry all the new plant babies Astrid gets back to her jeep. He sneaks several plants into the collection when she’s not looking because he saw her coo over them and then regretfully put back because she didn’t have any cash on her.

Both of them getting into heated not-arguments over what is the best type of armor and weapon combination for certain historical periods while watching documentaries on the History Channel

“Is this u?” texts where Astrid sends Adam random links to websites talking about mysterious figures that had a scandal or some event shine a spotlight on them and then they suddenly vanish without a trace. Adam replies back with “that hasn’t happened in well over two hundred years.”

“Is this you?” texts where Adam sends her links to Florida woman stabs intruder with sword type articles. Astrid replies back with a photo of a pepper spray canister.

Adam getting fed up with the dying noises under The Blueberry’s hood and spending weekends tuning up and replacing parts. He purposely wears t-shirts one size too small and snug jeans because he knows Astrid’s weaknesses and she can’t fight him over his need to take care of her if she’s too busy ogling. He still doesn’t know how the jeep is still running, the oil hadn’t been changed in who knows how long and some things were being held together by (most likely, knowing Fiona and Tony) fairy magic and prayer.

“You haven’t slept in a week. There are bags under your eyes. Nap time, mister.” not-arguments where Adam only protests because it’s a guaranteed way for Astrid to join him in a nap or evening’s rest and falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat under his ear and her fingers running through his hair is one of his favorite things.

Quietly spending time in the other’s company doing two different activities, one of them occasionally looking up from what they’re doing just to smile and watch the other enjoy what they’re doing.

After work scalp massages because Adam knows the weight of Astrid’s thick hair being put in a ponytail or a bun all day bothers her and taking out pins and seeing her hair unwind from its Work mode to a more casual Home mode has become a signal for him that they can relax together. Astrid likes the fact that he likes to play with her hair (he’s put her to sleep several times mid-massage) and she’s quick to praise him on his braiding techniques.

Mutual admiration for the other’s leadership abilities and how they handle themselves in their respective work spheres mutual competency kink what

Just being together and dropping any long-held masks because they’re able to be themselves and there’s so much trust established between them

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || prologue

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan

Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way! 

Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal

None of this historically accurate. It is purely fiction!

Type: series 

part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page! 

Word Count: approx. 1.4k 

Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband. 

→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama called Oh My General (also known as General Above I Am Below) 

Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies

Chaos.

War. 

The two are practically one in the same—at least, in the context of a battlefield. 

The wind continues to blow softly, tracing along the blades of the grass and lightly brushing the dust off from the dry patches on the land. In the sky, Korea’s flag flutters, with its colors reflecting onto the ground from the skylight, and the stand is firmly grasped in Dongho’s hands. 

The sun radiates throughout the field, shining against the bright blue armor of your soldiers and the highlands that stretch out. The hills go on for miles—not even you could detect another city in sight, meaning civilians are safe from harm. 

It’s a clear field, you note. Open land is best for battles—it means there is a lesser chance of traps from those who have higher ground and even less of an opportunity for sneak attacks. 

Despite this fact, you remain on guard. There is no telling as to what can happen because, one wrong move and everything, and anything, can easily fall apart. 

The silence is deafening as you and your army await for the enemy. 

A familiar shout is heard from across the field. The ground trembles as their cavalry arrives, but you and your men stand your ground. Many soldiers in armor, embellished with bright red and yellow silks, start to fill the landscape. They halt within three miles away and part for the man himself, General Yang. 

He sits on his horse, looking with nothing short of arrogance with a smug smirk tugged on his lips. With a draw of his sword, he lets out a roar with his men. You, on the other hand, are unable to hide your irritation at their behavior. 

“General!” he shouts. The opposition quieted down. He continues. “It’s an honor to meet you on the battlefield once more! However, it is a shame that nothing can save you now!” 

“General Yang!” you greet. “Let’s skip the pleasantries! Only one will survive and it will not be you!” Without looking back at your soldiers, you give your command. “Anyone who retreats will be beheaded on the spot!” 

“Yes, General!” 

The archers stretch their bows; the foot soldiers aim the cannons and Dongho passes your ax. The drummers pound the drums. 

“CHARGE!” 

Everything blurs as your foot soldiers charge themselves forward, swiftly moving past you with their swords drawn. The hooves pound against the ground and battle cries are heard from all directions. Metal clashes with metal; screams of pain and agony are ring throughout. They eventually stop—their bodies falling still, with gaping stab wounds that are beyond repair. 

Despite being surrounded by the chaos, you can only focus on General Yang himself—who is growing angrier as his men begin to fall, one by one. Without hesitation, he charges towards you. With a kick of your heel, your horse starts up and accelerates its speed—its rein on one hand and your ax firmly grasped in the other. The wind blows against your face, dancing along with the fabric that peaks shyly from underneath your armor. You easily slaughter those in enemy colors who block your pathway, leaving countless men dead at the mercy of your feet. 

The two of you meet towards the center, circling around as the bloodbath occurs in the background. Yang’s head is held high and his hand has a strong grip on his sword, which is drawn towards you. 

“General (Y/L/N),” he says with baring teeth. “Today is the day you will die.” 

You smirk at his brash statement. “How foolish of you to assume a devil can die.” 

His snarl only grows before swiftly swinging his sword towards your direction. You easily dodge his swing, leaning your back onto the horse and letting the wind blow past. He manages to thrust the sword again, only for it to be collided with your ax. He tries to aim towards your hands, in a pathetic attempt to push the weapon out of your hand, but fails to do so. Repeatedly. 

Your ax scrapes against his sword, blocking every hit he directs towards you. Having known him for the past six months—at least, in battle—you know his techniques. He’s such a caveman, so impulsive; ah, men... they really are too simple of creatures. 

Your smirk grows at his miserable attempt to dominate over you. With one twist of your wrist and a shove from your shoulder, his sword rolls out of his grasp and falls onto the ground. In one swift motion, you point your ax directly to his chest and pull out the sword from the side, pressing it against his jawline—giving it a small nick, just because you can. 

“You can surrender and survive,” you say. “Or you can continue this ridiculous war and lose your life.” 

His jaw clenches, trying to keep his breath calm. “Never. I refuse to be with the losing side.”

“Oh, Yang,” you say. “Dying as you lived: prideful.” 

“Men have pride and honor.” 

“And the same pride and honor shall be the cause of your downfall.” 

With those words, you pierce your ax into his chest and watch as he stills. Within a second of your attack, you rip the weapon out of his chest and slice his neck for reassurance. He falls off his horse and hits the ground with a grunt, spitting out the blood that blocks his airways. He struggles to keep his breath steadily; eventually, he falls once more and his entire body stills. 

His second-in-command, who spots his general on the ground, immediately provides orders. 

“RETREAT! THE GENERAL IS DOWN!” He pulls on his horse, turning himself and the other soldiers, the ones who are still alive, back to their home base. “RETREAT!” 

You sit perfectly still on your horse, watching the enemy all flee like the cowards they are. No one attempts to even look at you—nevertheless, aim towards you. Dongho returns to your side and, without a word, takes the bloody sword out of your hand. 

As they continue to flee, you hear the familiar drum beat echo throughout the field—slowly getting louder and louder as the field empties. You raise your battle ax and your men cheer in the sweet, sweet victory. 

With one hand up, they are silenced. 

“Do not forget the fellow soldiers who have fallen. We shall honor their memory with this victory. But, with this, we must remember: the battle may be over, but the war has not been won.”

“Yes, General!”

You turn to Dongho. “Let’s head back to celebrate.” 

He smiles in response. “Let’s go home.” 

The news of General (Y/L/N)’s success travels quickly, getting to the city’s capital as soon as possible, while the military were on their way back. The messenger races against time, swiftly moving across the country, galloping on his horse to get the message to the King. 

On the other hand, in the heart of the city’s capitol, the King sits on his throne, which is located above the officials. His mother, the Empress, sits behind him—practically hiding behind a curtain of gold that cuts her off from the others in the gathering room. While she may have more experience and wisdom, she is still just a woman. 

They were currently trying to figure out how to solve the natural disaster issues that had struck earlier this week. The flood had struck all at once a couple of days ago and the King found himself in a disadvantageous position, primarily with the citizens of Seoul who were demanding answers. The officials weren’t of any help either; each of them were simply trying to benefit themselves. 

The King rubs his temple as the officials endlessly argue over who should be taxed and where the money should be going: the villagers or the palace? 

With all this noise, he cannot think. 

Almost as if it was an answered prayer, the messenger arrives on his horse at the door. As he steps off and heads into the room, practically running down the aisle. The officials’ chatter dies down. 

The messenger bows, holding out the news in his hands. “Greetings to your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

He straightens up, opening the scroll to present to the King, along with the officials. “I bring news from the battlegrounds. We have won another battle and General Yang has been killed.” 

The crowd of officials murmur amongst themselves, practically in shock from the success. Even the King is pleasantly surprised. While your family has an excellent military lineage, you have certainly outdone yourself. 

“However,” the messenger continues, before anyone can celebrate prematurely. “General (Y/L/N) advises to keep an eye on the Chinese military since about half of Yang’s army have still survived, including his military council. Until then, the general and his army are currently on the road back to the capital.” He bows towards the King once more, before making his exit towards his horse to alert the others at their original home base. 

Once the messenger clears, a high-ranking official, Official Kwon, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Because you have promoted General (Y/L/N) to his position, we have successfully taken back control of our borders. What would you like for us to focus on next?” 

His majesty lets out a small sigh, slightly tilting his back further into the seat as he ponders. “We need to strategize ourselves politically,” he says. “Surely, King Wu will want to arrange a meeting soon. The question I pose is about how we shall approach it.” 

A mid-ranking official, Official Chun, steps out from the right, keeping distance from Official Kwon. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“I suggest we wait for the invitation,” he says. “If he suggests a meeting, I recommend that we have the meeting at our palace and prepare the soldiers for a possible attack.” 

Another high-ranking official, Official Song, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Official Chun is correct because we should prepare for a counter-attack. However, he is also wrong because we might focus too much on our capital and that could lead to the endangerment of the border.” 

Chun, in silent response, gives Song a side-look that is nothing short of annoyance. 

The King nods silently, awaiting for any other ideas the officials might want to contribute to the conversation. The officials’ heads remain bowed down, anticipating for the King’s response. 

“Song is correct,” he says. “We must prepare ourselves for any possible attack.” He pauses. “However, we should wait for General (Y/L/N) and Military Counselor Kang to arrive, before we officially decide.” 

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 

“Accepted, proceed.” 

“Since the general and counselor are returning after three years, shall we prepare a parade in their honor?” 

“Yes, we shall,” the King says. “After all, these two have sacrificed themselves for our country. A parade is the least we can do.” He lets out a sigh; the others are unsure if it’s one of relief or apprehension. “Because, without those two men, I am afraid of what the consequences may be.” 

A/N: As always, thank you for reading the prologue! If you want to know about updates, please check the upcoming page! 

[blarrghe]

“Watch me”

I had so many ideas for this. Carver telling Hawke she can’t just go punch a Templar in broad daylight because he called one of her friends a slur? “Hawke, you are literally an apostate you can’t just go about accosting Templars right outside of the Gallows.” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” 

Wynne telling Kali she can’t use ~forbidden magics~ to right her body? “Dear I understand that your spirit is pained by this, but no matter how much you desire to change your form, these are dark magics” “Uh huh, uh huh, so, as opposed to regular magic, which is different how, again?” “It’s BLOOD MAGIC.” “So what?” “You cannot know the full extent of the risk! You cannot resort to blood magic for any reason!” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” 

Cullen telling Taren that he can’t simply forgive the entire group of rebel mages in one blanket statement? “Inquisitor, these are still apostate mages! Many of them rebelled against their circles and were fighting in the war before Corypheus’ involvement.” “Oh? That’s good, we need good fighters as well as healers.” “They could be DANGEROUS. You cannot simply let them roam the fortress completely unguarded!” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” 

Maybe even Alistair, finding his competitive spirit as Zevran goads him (Zevran has ulterior motives) “Do you even know how to build a fire?” “I’m a Grey Warden, of course I do!” “I thought you were a prince. Can the princeling handle such exertions as the chopping of wood?” “I can handle an axe, Zev.” “As well as the dwarf? I doubt that.” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” “Mmm, gladly.” (Alistair, shirtless, chops several logs in half while Zev eagerly looks on before he figures out what is happening.) 

But then I had a thought for something a little different. Make it soft? Watch me. 

The pen scratched against the parchment, the sound of it harsh and scraping as Fenris put too much pressure into the stroke. The thin metal nib sliced through the page, a jagged line of ink ending in a small pool that seeped into the wood of the table beneath, and sputtered up to stain his unsteady fingers. He dropped the quill, a frustrated growl escaping from the back of his throat. 

Hawke sat across from him, just the hint of a frown lying across her lips. It was enough. He took up the ruined page and crumpled it into a tight ball, pushing it away to join the others, which sat in a little heap on the floor next to the desk. He looked away, keeping his gaze fixed on the ink-stained wads of paper. 

"It's alright, Fenris. Feather quills are stupid." Hawke advised with shrugging nonchalance. 

"It isnt the quill that is stupid, it's -" 

Hawke stopped his speech with one gently placed finger, which she brought to his lips and let rest a moment before softly tracing them, curling the rest of her fingers up, and pulling his chin into the palm of her hand. 

"- don't you dare finish that thought." 

He brought his eyes reluctantly back to her as she finished the soft caress of his face. It still sent shivers through him, when she offered him these gestures. Warmed his skin, left prickles of goosebumps down his arms. He sighed.

Fenris had escaped, evaded captivity, and found his way to Kirkwall; to Hawke. He had managed to learn reading and writing, and eventually he had even managed to find the words for what it was he felt with her in those quiet moments, and to speak them, and accept them as they were returned. These were the things in his life which he had come to appreciate as smart. He was capable. He could learn this. 

Fenris took another sheet of the thin parchment from its pile on the desk and laid it in front of him. He took up the quill and dipped it carefully in the ink. This time, the paper did not tear, but the looping form of the letter emerged from the tip of the quill with lines that were disjointed and wobbling. He grunted with frustration again as he let the quill fall, dripping its excess ink into a messy little splatter where it lay. 

"You don't have to do this, Fenris. The way you write is perfectly fine." 

It hadn't been her idea for him to study and practice at cursive. That decision had been his. What had been her idea was to have his name put on the deed to the estate, next to her own, and he hated the thought of signing the document with some simpler instrument or stamp, of seeing Hawke's name finely written next to his own poor chicken scratch. 

Hawke wrote in tight, quick script. Her letters and deeds she signed with swift and clean pointed lines, smooth curves, bold strokes. It matched her; simple, yet elegant. 

He tried once more, pressing into the page too hard and leaving blotches where serifs should be. It shouldn't have been so difficult. He could write now, inelegant and blocky though his letters were, and with thin sticks of charcoal or pencils he could even manage the loose curves of calligraphy, slow though he was at forming them. But the quill was a different beast, needing to be dipped in ink lest it trail away, but if dipped too often it ran wet and the lines would blend. The metal nib was temperamental, picky about what angles it was held at and bending if pressed too hard. 

Hawke picked up the quill with deliberate consideration. Pinch, and flip. She didn't need the trick, her fingers found their way into position around writing implements with just as much ease as his could grip a sword, but the technique worked as a guide for him. She had told him once how she had taught her younger siblings, taming Carver's heavy handed grip with little tricks and pencils that she'd whittled to be easier to hold. Stories like that one were sad now, where they should have been charming, with both Bethany and Carver long gone. 

Hawke stood and came around to his side of the desk, leaning over him so close that some of her hair brushed against his cheek. "Here," she said, touching the tip of the quill into the inkwell and pulling it out with two quick little taps to discard the excess ink, "watch me." 

Hawke scrawled his name out across the page in slow, steady strokes, the letters forming with lines that were even and smooth. Next to it, like some blushing schoolgirl, she added her own last name, and a quick little heart. And, like some blushing schoolgirl, Fenris smiled at it, mouthing the words under his breath.

[where-s-all-blue]

Hopeless Heroes AU

Hero Pack

Sanji/Stealth Black/King

Stealth Black has been out if commission fro the past two years (presumed dead by the public) as he was training with a former hero known as Crimson Leg.

He returns under the name "Prince", wearing a prototype of his new suit as Usopp isn't yet done calibrating the finished version to fit his needs.

People start to talk about how similar Stealth Black and this new hero are, causing Sanji to panic and claim that the members of Germa 66 are obviously older as they are taller (they wear heeled shoes to make people believe that they're taller).

Prior to Stealth Black's early retirement, he and Hunter had a fight regarding who deserves to be saved as the previous had been raised to think like perfect Germa soldier while the latter holds all life equally valuable.

Sanji must return to his previous role as Stealth Black momentarily as Germa 66 is threatening to reveal the secret identities of the heroes.

He accidentally reveals that Prince and Stealth Black are the same person to Hunter in the process.

Due to his new suit having a crown at its chest, the public starts to refer to him as King instead of Prince much to his embarrassment.

His entering code is 0302, which just so happens to be his birthday, March 2nd.

As Vinsmoke's questionable treatment on its servants and family members is revealed, Sanji is placed onto a safehouse known as Sunny, Hunter is tasked with guarding him.

Zoro/Hunter

Upon his friend Kuya dying from falling down the stairs, Zoro realised just how fragile humans are and thus he swore to become a hero who'd be able to help everyone.

His mentor is hero known as Hawkeye, who found him practicing sword fighting on his backyard. To this day the sword hero has no idea how Zoro got past his security system nor where his parents are, thus becoming his guardian.

He transferred into a university in France, which just so happens to be the same one Sanji attends to, accidentally becoming Mr Popular due to his exotic background, athletic nature and street smarts.

As he meets Prince, he can't help but to think of Stealth Black and wish him to return. He even talks about how he misses the guy to Prince, who's literally trying to keep the fact that he's Stealth Black a secret.

He's angry at himself for not being able to accompany Stealth Black on his mission because of his cover nearly being blown. He has to make up a good diversion while another hero makes an appearance as Hunter at the same time (it's Bartolomeo, who has learned most of his signature moves).

When Sanji is moved into the safe house, Hunter accompanies him the whole time, learning that not all Vinsmokes are entitled bastards.

Hunter's ability is to cut anything and nothing if he so desires, he also can create several wind styled attacks with them along with something that is called an Asura. The latter is still an incomplete technique.

Perona has accidentally called Hunter her older brother in presence of Nami, which led to both him and her quickly make up a lie about him being Zoro's older half brother of whose existence the greenette has no idea of existing.

Zoro keeps a journal about these lies to ensure that he doesn't accidentally contradict himself.

Ace/Fire Fist

Son of a former (now deceased) heroes, Roger and Rogue, the previous having been a powerful fire ability carrying hero.

He became active as a young teen upon loosing his cool.

He was used as a test subject of project REVIVE which was supposed to be used to research the abilities of the heroes who'd died in hopes of producing one day a new generation of heroes with matching abilities along with a series of pills that were supposed to be used to suppress hard to control abilities, help with mastering them and to switch into another one if the holder' s body wasn't capable of withstanding the original one.

This project was over seen by Steel Fist Garp, who was mortified to learn about the science ward of the time (provided by the United Countries and the Royal family of Vinsmokes) using children as test subjects. He broke all of the test subjects out, providing them with happy families. The test subjects who survived were Ace, Sabo and Chopper.

Sabo/Chief

The wide assumption is that he is Ace's twin brother who just so happens to take after Rouge.

He found out about his ability to control fire during a mission where both Ace and Luffy were hurt very badly.

As Sabo was used in the project REVIVE, his hair changed colour from its previous golden yellow into the same strawberry blonde as Rogue's had been.

Although he was released from the facility by Garp, he wasn't done with being a test subject as his power hungry family continued tests in secret until Dragon (a hero during that time) broke him out at the request of Doctor Kureha.

Luffy/Rubber Man

Originally a water-air powered individual, but as he ate one of the prototype pillers, his DNA was warped turning him into a rubber man.

Though Garp was offered the ability to turn him back into what he'd originally been, the retired hero claimed that it was a good thing to have his ability change as now he couldn't be connected to Dragon nor his wife.

Luffy's mother was a former villain with water based ability. Dragon broke off of the hero union in favour of becoming a vigilante.

Shanks/Red

One of the rare heroes without super powers.

Lost his arm while trying to keep Luffy safe while visiting one of the factories that produced the hero suits and gadgets; he quite literally stick his arm between two gears to keep the kid from getting hurt and had to have it amputated as a result.

To the public, he's an intriguing mystery.

Those who don't work with him, see him as laid back and carefree guy, but when you see him step on the field, you'll immediately know that shit just got real.

He's one of Roger's former pupils.

Red works behind the scene, pulling the strings and covering for the younger heroes.

His family is so well hidden that even if you'd know who he really was, you could only trace him back to the heroes. The closest you'd get to a family would be Luffy, but do you really want to risk having Steel Fist, Dragon, Portgas Twins AND the Surgeon of Death attack you on sight?

As the head of the intelligence, nothing gets past him, if something feels amiss, he'll have it checked.

While his identity isn't a secret, somehow people still fail to believe that he's one of the strongest current generation heroes.

Mihawk/Hawkeye

One of the strongest heroes current generation has to offer, the guardian and mentor of Hunter.

Sword hero, whose abilities have been honed to the level where no matter what he yields, he can cut with it.

He has once used an actual banana in place of a blade during an emergency with rather fruitful results.

Prefers to work solo, but has made an exception for his ward.

Came to adopt both Zoro and Perona upon finding them from his backyard with no explanation for how they got there and who are their parents.

Celebrates the duo's birthdays on the days he found them.

Seems to live only with protein shakes, smoothies and fruities due to being literally too busy with being the only hero with common sense around here.

This has led to an ongoing joke about him being a fruit bat styled vampire.

His habit of sleeping in a coffin (it came with the house and he sure as hell won't be spending anymore time with people than the bare minimum) isn't helping with the vampire image.

He used to work in a team with Buggy and Shanks, there was even slight rivalry between them where they kept score on saved civilians and beaten villains. This came to an end upon Shanks' loss of an arm.

Buggy/Clown

Came from a poor family which led him to retorting to crime as a means of survival.

Was taken in by Roger, who helped him to break out of the villain circle and inspired him to become a hero.

His former ability was so destructive that he asked to be given the still work in progress medicine, but it made him sick and mentally unstable for a long time.

He used to be in the same hero team as Hawkeye and Red before starting to work solo and eventually taking an apprentice himself.

He grew up in a circus where his parental figures were thieving clowns (literal clowns), as a sign of respect and to not forget this past, he incorporated certain elements from that into his hero suit.

He's seen as the grumpy uncle by the young heroes.

His literal vibe is: *high beeper goes off signalling that there's a fight nearby* Buggy: *loud tired groan*

Jinbe

Water powered hero, who's also partially a shark.

Specialises in ocean missions.

He's in charge of public relations thanks to his calm personality and rationality.

Feels responsible for the fact that he didn't recognise Arlong's villainous tendencies fast enough.

The martial arts instructor for the new heroes who usually haven't yet found their own style or have no idea how to protect themselves.

Jinbe is literally his hero name, not a single person knows what his actual name is.

Coby

A new hero, whose mentor is Steel Fist Garp.

He's highly durable and happens to have similar affiliates as Garp, hence he was the perfect protégé for him.

He's supposed to become the fourth member of the ASL and balance their often dangerous antics. He's already proceeded to befriend the youngest member of the team, Luffy, while Sabo and Ace are still uncertain of what to make of him.

Currently, he has no hero name of his own as he is following the tradition of allowing the public name him. However, if Shanks' prediction is accurate, he'll end up with a name similar to both Garp and Ace.

Germa 66

Six member group which prides itself in high level technology and super powers.

Is made up from the Royal family of Vinsmokes.

Judge, the leader, is a hyper intelligent man with naturally high durability and strength.

Reiju was genetically altered to be capable of manipulating toxins.

Ichiji was altered to be able to control fire.

Niji's genetic manipulation led to his ability to cut electricity.

Sanji is the only one without any alterations thanks to his mother's ability to destroy unnatural elements, though it was only for one child. He's naturally durable and has high intelligence, which sadly isn't seen as a super power by his father.

Yonji's strength was amplified to ridiculous levels.

All of the Vinsmokes are naturally blonde, but their raidsuits create a coating that protects their heads, which happens to make them appear to have different hair colours.

Sora, former hero before passing away, was a support styled hero, who could nullify toxic combinations and technology.

To protect the team from being affected too much by the "lower level heroes", they have been banned from being paired with heroes who do not "match their level". Sanji, who was seen as the unnecessary part of the team was the only one who was allowed to meddle with other heroes and even then he had to write extra reports about his team mates and the mission.

Germa 66 is known to be very picky about those who are saved, preferring to keep only "important people" such as politicians safe.

Their methods are often questionable and the rest of the heroes judge both their views and the said methods.

[tipsycad147]

Circle-casting basics: All you need to know about magick circles

by Michelle Gruben

Circle-casting is one of the foundational skills of Wicca and witchcraft. Often, it’s one of the first things that newbies learn to do as part of their training.

But circle-casting is a complex idea, even though the techniques are rather simple. Whether you’re casting a circle for the first time or thousandth time, it never hurts to think about what, exactly, you’re doing and why. In this article, we’ll get “back to basics” on circle-castings, and also consider some of the finer points of building the Witch’s circle.  

What is circle-casting?

Circle-casting refers to the practice of setting up a temporary space for magick or ritual. It is, by definition, round. Circle-casting is a term that’s most commonly used in Wiccan traditions, but other magick users may cast circles, as well. The magick circle is a mobile temple, a place apart from the ordinary world where magickal happenings can more easily occur.

Generally speaking, the circle is put up at the beginning of the rite by the leading priest and/or priestess. Solo practitioners cast circles, too. At the end of the ritual, the circle is released. (More on that later.)

A circle is a psychic boundary. You can’t see it with your normal five senses. However, a properly cast circle is detectable energetically and/or clairvoyantly by someone who has those skills. The magick circle is said to extend through the worlds—not just the physical plane, but the astral planes as well.

Why cast a circle?

There all kinds of factors that can interfere with ritual magick: Distractions from the mundane world, the contrary wills of others, chaotic entities that feed off the Witch's efforts, just to name a few. Casting a circle is one way to shut out disruptive influences and stay focused on the work. Magickal trance can be a psychically vulnerable state, so many Witches cast the circle with psychic protection in mind.

Just as important as the circle’s outer barrier is its inner one. Magickal energy—like all energy that we know about—tends to bounce around and scatter off into the Universe. Motion is its natural habit. The whole point of ritual is to concentrate some of that energy temporarily, for a purpose. A circle allows you to gather more energy up and hold onto it longer. If your work involves the evocation of spirits or deities, a well-built circle offers them a cozy place to land for the duration of the rite.

We can summarize all this by saying a magick circle has two main purposes: To keep disturbances out, and to keep the energy of the ritual in. This is certainly a vast oversimplification. So we’ll do it one worse and say the circle is a tool to make your magick stronger.

I’ve heard the circle described as a vessel, a workbench, a fence, a welcome mat, a spaceship, a gate, a bubble, and many other metaphors. Like the story of the blind men and the elephant, all of these words describe something about the circle, without really being a complete explanation of what it is.

How do you cast a circle?

There are simple and complex ways to cast a circle (and all points in between). You can cast a circle with tools or without, either aloud or silently. All methods of circle-casting require concentration or visualization, and a commitment to the belief that the circle is real.

A traditional circle has four cardinal points, set equidistant around the circle’s circumference. They are linked to the the four directions, the four Elements, and the Wiccan seasonal calendar. I think of the Quarters as ancient intelligences that appear in many of the world's religions. If you prefer, you can think of them as tent poles that balance the circle’s shape and energy.

These are all common practices in circle-casting: Visualizing the boundaries of the circle, walking the circumference of the circle, cutting a barrier with a knife or sword, calling the Quarters, lighting candles, placing objects around the edge of the circle, ritual cleansing of the space inside. Your casting may use a few of these elements, or all of them.

The following is an example of a very simple circle-casting technique: Visualize a ring of light at the edges of your ritual space. The light burns and purifies the space within the circle. Take some deep breaths, and focus on the pulse of energy within your body. Feel the heat and light of your own energy expand with every exhalation. That light also has a fiery, purifying effect on the space between you and the circle. When you feel the warm edges of your own energy reach that boundary of the circle, clap your hands together and say, “As I will, the circle is cast.”

Some people prefer to cast the circle with the aid of various tools: The athame, a length of cord, stones or candles for each of the quarters. These items can be very helpful in setting up the boundaries of the circle.

The larger and more public the ritual, the more tools tend to be used, since attendees may not be accustomed to the ins and outs of circle-casting. Large public circles often use multiple callers, altars at the Quarters, chants and written evocations to help make the circle more visible.

There is no method that is better than the others. The strength of the circle will depend on the will of the participants and other factors (such as the psychic geography of the place where the circle is cast).

Is circle-casting necessary for magick?

No, certainly not. The magick circle is not used in every tradition. Norse, Kemetic (Egyptian), and many shamanic and folk magick practitioners work just fine without one. Circle-casting is a useful technology, not a hard-and-fast rule.

The Witch’s magick circle is a legacy from the grimoires of Western ceremonial magick, what is sometimes called Solomonic magick. Its original purpose was to protect the conjuror from demons and fallen angels, and to assert the authority of God over such rebellious spirits. This commanding, adversarial approach to magick is now out of step with how many magicians view their relationship with the spiritual world.

Among Wiccans and others who do cast circles, most will say that not every act of magick requires a full-blown circle-casting. Meditation and devotional practices (such as giving offerings) often take place outside of the formal circle. Experienced Witches may choose to cast a circle only when they feel they need the extra protection and focus.

Can a circle cast itself? This is a fascinating topic! While circle-casting is far from universal, the concept of the aura, or energetic field around the body, has traction within many more spiritual paths. Many people have observed or felt this permeable barrier of energy. If you think of the magick circle as an extension of the aura, circle-casting becomes a lot less Wicca-specific.

When working magick with others outside of a formal circle, I’ve sometimes noticed the collected energy take on a circle-like shape. (Or a blob, at least). Other have commented on this phenomenon, too. It may be that the magick circle is something that forms spontaneously as the energy of the participants knits itself together.

How large should the circle be? What shape?

Nine feet in diameter is the traditional size for the Wiccan circle. Nine, or three times three, is an important number in Wicca. The customary nine-foot ritual cord, folded in half, is anchored in the center and walked around to trace out the circle’s edge. The resulting circle will be just over 27 feet in circumference.

The nine-foot circle is not a commandment, just a suggestion. Feel free to tailor your circle to your needs and the available space.

How small is too small? The circle should be large enough to completely contain the Witch and his or her ritual items. You don’t want to accidentally penetrate the edges of the circle while gesturing or reaching during ritual. For group rituals, you want to leave enough space for people to maintain a comfortable distance from each other. (If that is in fact the goal…no judgement here.)

If you’re working in a bedroom or other small space, the nine-foot circle may not be practical. Cast a circle that fits the space. It’s better to have a circle that’s small and round, rather than a larger one with boundaries that extend through walls, furniture, etc. Ideally, the circle should include the altar (if there is one), ritual tools and nothing else—no other items that could pose a hazard or distraction during the ritual.

Theoretically, there’s no upper limit to the size of a magick circle. But smaller is often better. I’ve worked with groups that cast circles to the edge of a building or field to miminize the disruption from people wandering in or out. These circles are not very round, and they don’t have sharp boundaries. They tend to dissolve well before the ritual is over. Smaller, tighter circles are just easier to visualize and maintain.

Now that we’ve covered circle size, here’s a few words about shape. A lot of people visualize the cast circle as a ring of energy laying on the ground like a hula hoop. Some people visualize it as a vertical tube (or stack of circles) standing up like a paper towel roll. Some people visualize it as a sphere, extending into the ground and up overhead. Some go with a cone, with the circle at its base. That’s all fine. It’s really up to you and how many dimensions of visualization you’re comfortable with.

Circles are made of energy, and there are subtlely different energetic functions to each of these shapes. As you grow more experienced with circle magick, you may find that some shapes are better than others for certain tasks. If you’re working with a group, make sure you’re on the same page, shape-wise.

However, don’t worry about the people who say that a simple two-dimensional circle is inferior or ineffective or dangerous. That’s just wankery. Fundamentally, it’s always intention that matters. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that nobody’s ever died because their ritual circle didn’t have a lid on top. If you intend your circle to be impenetrable and set it up that way, no baddies are going to be hopping the fence like goats in a garden…trust me.

What does being in circle feel like?

Being in a really solid circle is a bit like having an orgasm. You can read about it and get some ideas…but when you have one, you’ll know.

People experience all different kinds of sensations while standing within a ritual circle. Heightened sensations of energy and a distorted sense of time are common. Words, images, and objects within the circle may take on special significance. The boundaries of the circle can feel quite strange—giving off heat, resistance, or a tingling feeling when you approach them. It’s also normal for objects beyond the boundary of the circle to appear hazy or out-of-focus.

Here are some notes about standing inside magickal circles:

Being in circle is like having a lucid dream. It feels real and not-real at the same time.

Being in circle is like being wrapped up in a blanket that smells like you.

Being in circle is like being in an airplane cabin with the pressure turned up too high.

Being in circle is like being very tall and still with your feet deep in the ground and your head among the star.

Being in circle is like looking at an alien planet through frosted glass.

Being in circle is like being able to move while the rest of the world is frozen.

That’s a few of mine, anyway. How about yours?

How do you take down a circle?

When the ritual has ended, it’s time for the circle to be taken down. Some Witches call this “opening” the circle, while some call it “closing” the circle. Both phrases mean basically the same thing. The language can be confusing, so I usually seek out other words to describe the dissolution of a magick circle.

Releasing the circle allows the energies contained to dissipate, and the room or patch of ground to return to its pre-ritual state. There are many techniques that can be used to help the energy to disperse, such as ringing a bell or visualizing the walls of the circle dissolving. Gathering ritual tools and putting them away also helps scatter any lingering energy. The sensation of taking down a circle can vary in intensity, from a slow fade to a dramatic rush as the circle collapses back into the aether.

If a formal circle has been cast, formally un-casting it is good form. Often this means following the circle-casting ritual in reverse. For example, say the circle was cast by walking the circumference clockwise, then calling the Quarters, then lighting a candle on the central altar. You could un-cast it by blowing out the candle, releasing the Quarters in reverse order, and finally by walking the circumference counter-clockwise. Ideally, the person or persons who cast the circle should be in charge of taking it down. (If necessary, another person can take over.)

What if you fail to properly shut down the magick circle? It will eventually fade away on its own, usually within minutes or hours. Ley lines, water features, and heavy foot traffic are some of the things that can cause the circle to fade away faster. Temple furnishings, buried crystal or metal deposits, and regular use of an area can slow the dissipation of the circle’s structure. Using a pendulum or dowsing rods can help you detect the presence of lingering energy in a ritual space.

The cast circle is never more than a temporary psychic construction. However, leaving an unattended circle is a weak coda to your magickal working. It also can leave an open portal through which unwanted entities can travel. For best results, always pack up your circle when you’re done.

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/circle-casting-basics-all-you-need-to-know-about-magick-circles