#and their actual training is actual sparring and classes on poisons

[pupkinpumpkin]

Lucanis' training with Caterina: Starvation, beatings, being pit against Illario for her favor

Rook's training with Viago: An episode of Tom and Jerry

[tactician]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.  REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG, with the information of your muse,  including headcanons, etc.

name: cato mercar! he was just cato until he was around 22 years old, though. a former gladiator 'owned' by a tevinter noble, cato eventually won his freedom in minrathous' grand proving arena. his combat prowess caught the attention of the military-focused mercar family, and he was inducted into their house as a means of granting him some more social mobility. nicknames: rook is the only big one tbh! thank u varric. but cato never abandons his actual name. age: 33 as of 9:52 race: (city) elf gender: male (he/him) orientation: bisexual zodiac: whatever the leo equivalent is in thedas LMAO moral alignment: as chaotic good as they come class/subclass: a warrior with a slayer specialization! his mentor on the gladiatorial grounds was from rivain and began training him when he was really young. he has a very high constitution and can definitely tank hits for his teammates (& has the scars to prove it), but cato focuses on damage output more than survivability. he has a brutal battle style and tends to attract a lot of attention when he fights. years of taking part in provings engrained a certain flashiness in him; he can't quite shake it off. it’s great for rage generation though… lmfao interests/hobbies: cato enjoys working out and training, so he spends most of his free time on the training grounds or trying to get people to spar with him. he also really enjoys hiking - though his sense of direction is admittedly not the best, so he gets lost very, very often while on hikes dflgkdfh. unless it’s about battle tactics, he doesn't enjoy introspection all that much - so hobbies requiring study are lost on him. he does, however, have an absolute love of nugs. he seriously adores them. he thinks they're the cutest little beasts ever. he has a pet nug named ganni and he spoils her rotten. completely unrelated to nugs (I SWEAR), he’s also interested in learning how to cook but is really, really bad at it. spoken languages: common, some elvish (his accent is atrocious), and a surprising amount of tevene. profession: cato was initially a gladiator based in minrathous. shortly after attaining his freedom in 9:41, he became a combat trainer for the mercar military force and relocated to their lands in ventus (though he never became a full-fledged soldier due to laws against former slaves joining the military). when ventus fell to qunari forces in 9:44, cato returned to minrathous and poured everything he had into bettering tevinter, particularly through hunting down slavers. he joined the shadow dragons after they saved him from a thorny situation and has definitely found his place in the world with them – though he gets into trouble quite frequently for being too hot-headed and disobeying orders in favour of his own plans. and, ofc, by some strange, strange twist of fate, he’s also the leader of the veilguard. height: ~5'2" colors: sandy browns and golds; bold, bright shades of red and blue. fruits: the humble fig… (insert figgy pudding joke here) but he also really loves poison stings – the tevinter snack of orange peels covered in chocolate. generally speaking, i associate cato with Meat a lot more than fruits (or veggies, for that matter) drinks: plain black coffee…! the stronger the better, and not fancy at all. maybe even a little burnt. alcoholic beverages: a cinnamon-infused whiskey that warms you to your core.   smokes: he smokes recreationally with the other shadow dragons! those hookahs around their base are definitely not for show. he also has one in his room at the lighthouse. drugs: he isn’t opposed. (a certain tea comes to mind… ldfkdfg) drivers license: DO NOT LET THIS MAN OPERATE A CARRIAGE!!!! ever been arrested: yes. multiple times. never for a really long period, though. so many strings get pulled for him… so many bail-outs… 😔 he has a reputation. but he's proud of it. DFL;GKDFKH and, honestly, given how much he gets up to – both for the shadow dragons and while on his own conquests - he hasn’t been arrested all that often!

tagged by: the lovely @sangre ♡ THANK YOU SO MUCH BREE!!! tagging: limiting myself to 10 of my mutuals with dragon age ocs hehe!! no pressure though ofc! and if anyone else wants to yoink this lil meme + tag me, feel totally free - i’d LOOOVE to learn about your character(s) ♡

@mintflavoredwindows @killdragons @brewswain @famewolf @adaryc (cue line break bc tumblr breaks ALL my links if i keep yall in a group fsr)

@shapeknight @pavus @keeperesque @lilactiefling @hobblehurbie

[anderstrevelyan]

Valas DeVir

Born: 1441 DR (51 years old); Class: War Cleric (of Kelemvor, he thinks); Race: Half-Drow; Origin: The Dark Urge

When he emerges from the Nautiloid, his memories gone, the first thing he notices is the cruelty: it feels outside of himself, sometimes, like when he writhes in visions of death at night, but it’s a sharply honed instinct, too: the way he interacts with the world. Strike first, shy from empathy, revel in the power of causing fear. Intense, passionate anger, often expressed in a quiet menace.

But as he stumbles through the first days, realizing he can’t do this alone, other parts of himself slip through. He’s calm under pressure. He’s not quick to trust or curious about a stranger’s story, but he’s loyal to those he lets in. He’s comfortable leading. Has a wry sense of humour, when it’s not overshadowed by the instinct to intimidate. He has a conscience, surely stunted from underuse, but a deep, desperate desire to stop spiralling into chaos. He’s utterly tender to those he loves, as surprised as he is by the feeling. Like Shadowheart, he clings to the small pieces of himself that pull at his subconscious, various affinities to physical things that feel like him. The glowing fauna of the Underdark, kept in jars and displayed for study. The strength and shape of soft drow leather gloves. The breadth of a starry night sky, the smell of dusty books by candlelight, the feeling of wind in his hair, the curious look in a small rodent’s eyes.

(Backstory after the cut, with some Dark Urge spoilers implied):

Born to Feron and Viconia DeVir in a quiet home in Baldur’s Gate’s Upper City, Valas was a child that never should have been: a symbol of hope, that the unlikely couple drawn together in the years after the Bhaalspawn Crisis could finally rest.

A fighter and mage by training, Feron—once ward of the late Gorion of Candlekeep—taught his son to spar with swords in the city’s streets and read him stories of adventure at night, content in the thought he’d never have to endure the real thing. Not with the curse of his own divine father, Bhaal, the God of Murder, finally free from his veins. Feron chose mortality. He chose peace. And what better way to live out that peace than to see the world through young, innocent eyes? Viconia, still astounded by the life she’d managed to find on the surface, named her son for the brother who intervened to save her from being sacrificed to Lloth. The whole family took on the surname DeVir, and Viconia tried to teach her son everything she could about the cultures he came from, marvelling at the understanding in his eyes. But the peace wasn’t to last. In 1453 DR, when Valas was twelve, a handmaiden of Lloth stole into the house and poisoned Viconia, leading to a death no cleric could cure. Feron tried to be the father he wanted to be in the years that followed, but grew distant, consumed with the thought that had he accepted a spot among the gods’ pantheon, he could have found a way to save his love’s life. Young Valas became fascinated with death, collecting the bones and dried carcasses of creatures he could find—bugs at first, then birds, or pieces of larger animals, filling the shelves in his room with the macabre collection. He started to approach it through faith, which Feron encouraged despite his own distrust of the gods—Viconia had found hope and strength in her deity, after all, after she lost everything of her life in the Underdark. Valas began praying to Kelemvor, and before long the young teenager was blessed by the death god in return, intending to continue training as a cleric and one day serve as a Doomguide. If anyone suspected his devotion was born out of a desperate desire in his grief to believe Kelemvor’s central tenets—that death is a natural part of life, not to be feared but to be honoured—rather than actual acceptance, they didn’t voice it. The druid Jaheira continued to visit, as she often had in Valas' youth, especially as Feron’s dreams of slaughter started to return. She’d take Valas into the lands outside the city, helping him find more trophies of things long gone but hoping to inspire him with the flourishing sides of nature too, to hold in balance. (If she thought she saw, a time or two, the young man snap a bone to steal a bird’s last breath, surely she must have been mistaken? He’d so calmly insist it had already been dead, and surely a lawful-neutral god wouldn’t have blessed him if that were a lie.) In 1456 DR, Feron’s godly inheritance still spelled his doom in the end. He was attacked in the streets of Baldur’s Gate, and turned into the Slayer. It’s said his fifteen-year-old son was killed in the ensuing rampage, along with dozens of bystanders, until a group of adventurers were able to cut him down. When Viconia, years later, was resurrected by Sharrans after all, hearing of the tragic death of her husband and the slaughter of their son at his own twisted, clawed hands pushed her firmly back to the Lady of Loss, in her grief at coming back to no one. But Valas DeVir didn’t die that day. He was taken, in secret, by a fledgling Bhaalist temple determined to shape him into everything his father could have been, should have been, but rejected. For what could be a better punishment for a fallen, soft-hearted Bhaalspawn than to look back at the world and know his cherished son will become the perfect picture of murder he fought so hard to never be?

[acopenhagenarmy]

PIRATES - CHAPTER 5

Pairing: BTS x reader but mostly hyung-line x reader  Side pairings: Jimin x Taehyung, Jimin x Ateez!Wooyoung, reader x Ateez!Seonghwa

Mafia!au - gang!au - assassins!au 

Word count: no idea

Warnings: Mentions of death, nudity and sex apart from that some strong language. And I think that’s it for now.. 

Summary: Growing up in one of the biggest and most feared mafias has it’s perks, but what happens when you and you’re friends are suddenly shipped off to the other end of the world? Will you stay together or will the world you live in tear you all apart? 

NOTE: I feel like this is both somewhat long but also short? Idk, please send me feedback, and if you have theories and so on, I love to hear from you guys!

-> NEXT CHAPTER

The days went quickly, and in two weeks time you had gotten used to the new routine. You started the days by working out with Jimin, sometimes Jungkook joined the two of you. To fight and defend on two fronts took a toll on your body. The good kind that was. 

Jungkook quickly got special privileges in the gym classes, teaching those who dared go up against him. No one really did, except you, Jimin and of course Taehyung. Tae and Jungkook's version of fighting looked more like small kids than assassins, but it made the hall laugh and lifted moods. Especially whenever you and Namjoon had to separate the two. 

In the following weeks you and Jin grew closer. He had been right, he was so much more than a pretty face who understood plants and chemicals. He was much more introverted than you’d first expected. He was funny with a laugh more contagious than the poisons he learned you to brew. You liked his company, but you still couldn’t decide if it was as friends or something more. 

Jimin had been used to people falling over themselves to get your attention, so adding two of the three Kim brothers to the mix, didn’t really have an effect on him. And if he were being honest with himself he too had to keep his heart on a tight leash whenever he was around Taehyung. The man with the boxy grin had fought his way into his heart, and whenever he looked at him it was with big eyes of admiration. 

Namjoon luckily helped him a lot. The two of them trained almost everyday, it was everything from lifting weights, sparring and dancing. 

“Is this really necessary?” Namjoon asked as Jimin got comfortable on the older man's back while Namjoons legs were stretched out to each side. 

“Sure it is! You need to be stretched out properly! And this is most definitely the quickest way of doing it” Jimin stated. A smile painted his lips, his eyes almost disappearing 

“I feel like my muscles might snap” It sounded more like a groan than actual spoken words, but this wasn’t Jimin's first rodeo. Jungkook was as big and stiff as Namjoon, but it also meant that Jimin knew just how to work his body. 

“Stop being such a drama queen!” His statement made Namjoon laugh which quickly ended with the younger of the two splayed out on the floor. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Namjoon said almost panicked. 

Jimin layed on the floor, looking like a starfish at the bottom of the ocean. 

“Namjoon, I’ve been used to much worse in the past. I’m perfectly fine” He smiled, but even though his smile made his eyes disappear, Namjoon swore he could see the hurt in them anyways. 

“Hurt how?” He asked and Jimin sighed as he shrugged. 

“You know… Growing up with a sister like mine you kind of get used to abuse you know?” 

Namjoon couldn’t help the puzzled look that painted his features, but instead of assuming anything he waited for Jimin to finish his story. 

“When you’re born two minutes after your sister, and your dad, despite almost everyone's objections, chooses to make her the heir instead of his son… Well let’s just say it causes a lot of bullying by your peers, and talking behind your back from the adults. Because what kind of man could you be if your sister was the first choice and you the second. Not a good one, that’s for sure” 

Namjoon watched as Jimin fiddled with his fingers and bit his lips to hold back the tears threatening to flood his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry Chim” He said almost silently, but he picked up on it anyways. 

“Don’t be, she had my back every step of the way. She beat up everyone she overheard talking badly about me, even the grown ups. She was the right choice for this position, I know that, and she proved it to everyone in the end. But… When I came out, it was kind of like people suddenly ‘understood’ my fathers decision. They praised him for seeing it from the beginning and for making the right choice. Because a woman were better than a sissy little boy like me” 

“I assume he handled them?” 

“Yeah, people disappeared left and right in about a month afterwards. And in the end the gossip about me stopped. But I see how people look at me, being like me is not really acceptable in our line of work” 

Namjoon laid back on the cold floor and looked up into the ceiling. “No… it’s not, I had my fair share of fights with people in my younger days because of their comments about Tae. He was always different, you know? His brain works differently than most, he’s special, he’s loving and kind and goofy. But people called him weird, first because of that, later because of who he preferred to share his bed with” 

“So he’s?” It was an open question but Jimin didn’t want to say it out loud for some reason. It somehow seemed too private. 

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, he is. You know, I see the way the two of you look at eachother” 

He said it as a statement not a question, so Jimin decided not to deny it. Instead he just smiled. 

“It’s okay Jimin, sometimes you find love in the weirdest of places” Namjoon sent him a dimpled smile and it calmed him a little. 

“Promise you won't tell him?” 

“I promise” 

Namjoon held up his pinky for Jimin to take. 

“Damn you aren’t joking are you Kim?” Jimin said in response to the pinky promise. His eyes big and dramatic. 

“Of course not, a pinky promise is not something I wanna mess with. I’ve heard it gives bad karma” 

Jimin locked his pinky with Namjoons as they both laughed. Afterwards he laid down on the cool floor of the gym. 

“I can't believe we’ve already been here for two weeks,” he said quietly. 

Namjoon laid beside him. 

“Me neither, times moving too fast” 

“Hey, now that I’ve shared my secret’s it’s your turn!” Jimin turned towards Namjoon on the floor, and saw the dimpled smile he sent out into the world. 

“What do you wanna know, Park?” 

“How come you’re the one taking over the dynasty, and not Jin?” 

“Ah…” Namjoon said and suddenly seemed like he was lost in thought. 

“If it’s too private you don’t have to tell me, you know?” 

Namjoon laughed. “I know, but we’re friends and allies now, so I guess you deserve to know just what’s up” He sat up and Jimin did the same. 

“Jin is talented and does have very good qualities for a leader. But he just never wanted it, he doesn’t mind being in the background, being able to do what he loves without any disturbance. According to my mom I showed early signs of being a true leader, so when we got older they asked Jin what he wanted the most, and being a leader just wasn’t it, so instead it fell on me” 

Namjoon shrugged. He almost looked a little embarrassed. 

“And do you enjoy it?” Jimin asked, which earned a sigh from Namjoon. 

“I do, I mean of course some days are better than others. And I can't wait until the day I find someone who can partake in the burden that is leading all of these people” 

Jimin couldn’t help but smile. He would’ve never expected Namjoon to be as humble as he was. It was refreshing. 

“Well from what I can tell people respect you a lot, plus you seem to have an incredibly kind heart, which is always a good quality, even in our profession” 

As per usual Namjoon partnered up with Hoseok and Jungkook for poisons class. And if he was being honest, he didn’t really mind. Him and Jungkook had gotten friendly rather quickly. The two of them didn’t really have that much in common, but there was an underlying understanding between them. And if Jungkook were being completely honest, Namjoon was everything he had always wanted in an older brother.

He was funny, kind, and smart. He was serious, and much like Hoseok it was only when he had to be. But the difference between them was that Hoseok was his superior, Namjoon wasn’t. So it was easier being silly with him, especially after he had seen how Taehyung treated his brother. 

In front of the three men were you and Jin. Sitting close to one another, smiling, laughing at each other's jokes. And the way Jin leaned close to you was enough to make Hoseok’s blood boil. It had been years since he’d seen a man get that close to you, and he didn’t like one bit. 

“Excuse me” he said, as he suddenly rushed out of the class. 

Your eyes followed your right hand man as he left. But you didn’t think of it as anything more than him needing the restroom. 

Jungkook sighed and Namjoon laughed at his reaction. 

“Is he getting jealous?” He asked curiously. 

Jungkook shrugged. “Oh come on Kook, you’d have to be blind to not see that he’s completely in love with her.” 

He couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him. “I guess… And what about you? You don’t get jealous of the two of them?” 

Namjoon couldn’t help but smile. “No, not really. My brother is a beautiful man, and if I’m being honest his beauty was the cause of a lot of my insecurities when I was younger.” 

“How? I mean you’re pretty hot yourself” Jungkook didn’t plan to say what he was thinking, and a blush quickly painted his cheeks red from embarrassment. 

Namjoon laughed loudly, and the sound captivated you instantly. You were suddenly made aware of the somewhat gentle giant who was sitting behind you. It made it almost impossible to concentrate on the man who sat beside you. 

“Thank you Kook! That has to be one of the nicest things anyone has said to me since we got here!” 

Jungkook couldn’t help but return the dimpled smile the leader sent him. 

“Jin is beautiful, but annoying and honestly he is a lot. So I think I’m just waiting for her to get tired of him” He whispered to the younger man, to prevent his brother from hearing. 

“You really think that’ll happen?” 

“Honestly I have no idea. But I won't intervene in other people's relationships. If she’s meant to be his, she will be. True love, well love in general is to pure, to perfect and to rare in our profession for any of us to meddle with” 

Jungkook couldn’t help but admire his point of view. It was refreshing to hear a man other than just him and Jimin speak about love like that. 

The eight of you sat together once again at lunch. People around you were quickly getting used to the fact that the Kim’s and the Park’s were allies, and most people therefore chose to avoid you all. It was easier that way. 

Even though the cafeteria was loud, it wasn’t loud enough to shut out the loud screams and laughs that suddenly rang through the corridors, on the other side of the doors of the loud room. 

It quickly forced people to look towards the doors in anticipation for whoever was able to make that much noise. 

“Isn’t that…?” Jimin asked as he learned towards you, voice not louder than a whisper. 

“I think it might be,” you said as a giant smile painted your lips. 

The Kim brothers and their trusted Min looked at you and your men. Wondering just why Hoseok looked pissed, why Jungkook looked happy, why Jimin was blushing and why your eyes suddenly sparkled. 

The doors were then abruptly opened, and a rather small man appeared, but he radiated power and his aura was almost suffocating. 

Behind him followed seven men, one taller and wider than the other, all with a smirk painted on their perfectly sculpted lips. 

The small man found Namjoons eyes almost instantly, and he waved in response. The rest of his men looked in your general direction and it didn’t take long for all of them to notice the close proximity between you and the Kims. 

A second later one of them sprinted towards you. Jimin quickly grabbed Tae’s gun as he tried to pull it on the mountain of a man who ran towards them. 

But before they had the chance to ask you just what was going on you were being pulled from your seat and twirled around like a child. 

“My favorite Park!” he yelled as you laughed. 

“My favorite Choi!” You answered. 

It didn’t take long before a man as alluring as Jimin was sitting beside him, whispering in his ear. The blush that painted his cheeks almost enraged Taehyung, and if it wasn’t for Namjoon he would’ve most likely not have been able to control himself. 

“It’s been forever, San!” You said as the man sat you down. 

He was wearing black cargo pants and a bulletproof vest, but with nothing underneath, so it was very easy to spot the giant ‘A’ he had tattooed on his abs. 

The rest of the men quickly gathered around you and the boys, some hugging each other, others meeting for the first time. 

“Hongjoong” Namjoon said as the smaller man had catched up to the rest. Behind him stood one of the most beautiful men any of the Kims had seen. 

“Hello cousin” He answered before they hugged each other. 

“Meet my right hand man; Park Seonghwa,” he said, and the two quickly shook hands. 

Seonghwa’s eyes kept darting towards you whenever you laughed, and Namjoon quickly catched on. 

“Just go Hwa, you’ll be insufferable if you don’t get a chance to say hello” Hongjoong said. And the beauty quickly left the two cousins alone. 

“You guys are a little late, aren’t you?” Namjoon asked. 

Hongjoong shrugged. “A little, we were stuck in a hurricane for a little while, and then we ran into a few ships that were just laying there with a lot of precious cargo, what would you have us do? Leave them without robbing them?” He laughed. 

“Of course not,” Namjoon said. 

“So you’re in an alliance with the Parks huh?” 

Namjoon nodded. 

“What does your father say to that? And don’t say he’s happy about it, cause I know better”

“Haven't really told him yet” 

Hongjoong laughed. “Of course you haven't” 

You didn’t really notice Namjoon and Hongjoong talking, hell you didn’t really notice anything after you’d locked eyes with Hwa. 

“Y/….” He almost said your name, luckily for you it was no more than a whisper. 

He pulled you towards him. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your perfume. As the two of you separated you could feel everyone's eyes staring at the pair of you. But you didn’t really care. 

You wanted to push him away, you wanted to be cold towards him, but the truth was that you had missed being in his arms. 

He kissed the top of your head, lips lingering a little too long for it to be in a friendly kind of way. 

Namjoon saw how Hoseok rolled his eyes at the gesture. So this must be an ex…

“I’ve missed you Blade, it’s been a while,” Seonghwa said. 

“That’s kind of your own doing isn’t it?” Your voice was more teasing than mean. He shrugged, but smiled nonetheless. 

Hongjoong stepped towards you, but Seonghwa never let go of you despite it. 

“I see you’ve exchanged one Kim for the other Blade, and here I thought I was your favorite” Hongjoong said teasingly. 

Namjoon and you both laughed. 

“Sorry, Tae kind of stole that place when he defended me two weeks ago despite not knowing me” 

Namjoons smile widened at your words. Gosh, I adore her.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course he did, good job cousin!” He gave Tae a high five in response. “So I guess this makes us all allies then” 

“I guess so” You answered as you looked up at Seonghwa, and his eyes instantly found yours while his one hand tried to sneak around your waist. 

You knew exactly what he was trying to do, but you had closed your heart off to him long ago, and therefore took two long strides away from him, leaving you in near proximity to Namjoon. 

You needed some sort of reassurance, and he knew it instantly. You held your hands behind your back, shielding them off for everyone except him, turning the ring on your pinky. 

It was a thing you did whenever you felt nervous or uncomfortable in any type of situation, and he had picked up on it rather quickly. 

He slowly reached out, intertwining his hand with yours. He heard how your breath hitched by the sudden contact, but it didn’t take you long before you relaxed, leaving him painting circles on your skin in pure excitement. She didn’t let go!

Namjoon couldn’t help the smile he flashed. His brothers saw the change in him instantly. He suddenly stood a little taller, a little more confident. 

“This is gonna be fun!” one of Hongjoongs men said. The man had finally left Jimin alone, which made it easier for Taehyung to breathe. “I’m Wooyoung by the way” he said as he waved. 

The men then proceeded to introduce themselves. Namjoon was convinced he wouldn’t remember any of their names, his focus was on you and you alone. His skin, touching yours. 

“Well we were almost done with lunch, so you’ll get to join us for the next class” Jimin said. 

Jimin wasn’t stupid, he had always been the only one who could read you like an open book. And the red tint on your ears and cheeks were so easy to spot, that he for a second thought that the two of you might want to get caught with whatever you were up to. 

“Sounds like a plan” Seonghwa said, as he once again smiled at you. But Namjoon didn’t care, you were his for these seconds he held your hand, and no man, no matter how beautiful, could take that away from him. 

“Lead the way” Hongjoong said, and Taehyung quickly showed his cousin which way to go by basically dragging him along. 

You and Namjoon stayed behind for as long as you could. And once the rest of the men were out of earshot you turned around to look up at him, with sparkling eyes. 

“Thank you” it was no more than a whisper, but it was easy to hear the sincerity in your voice. 

“Aways” 

The smile he sent you could’ve stopped your heart if you’d let it. 

Are you the one who’ll give meaning to my memories?

[fruit-salad-ship]

So hypothetical for the Witcher au if the trio somehow ended up as Witcher’s together same school and everything how long did it take them to become the lovable menaces they are?

Hrm. Their styles would vary widely, I originally imagined peach in the school of the bear, grey would fit too, but plum couldn’t keep up with that. I guess snake isn’t terrible, plenty of variation.

The girls were ostracised immediately. Peach was dumped there and plums family paid to keep her there, out of their hair. Because they were the only girls they were often stuck together and it made them both angry. They wanted to be treated like everyone else, but instead were pushed harder and mocked for even being there.

Their training though fierce was led by a Witcher in training a few years older than them, Grey, a young boy with a good heart volunteered to help them when no one else would. He swiftly put them both on their asses, expecting neither to get back up fast, but they both did. Unrelentingly stubborn, he found their tenacity infectious, and wildly appealing. Eventually in groups with other youngsters grey was chemically altered to be a proper full fledged Witcher and started taking jobs, leaving the girls alone to train. Their competitive natures led them to slowly learn to get along, finding respect in the others skills, peach grew strong and defensive, while plum grew fast and tactical. Both made great steps with signs, peach excelled with the herbal aspect making tonics and such, while plum boasted ridiculous knowledge of recorded creatures and how to fell, use and manipulate them. They were surprising the others in their school, surviving is one thing, excelling a totally different story.

They garnered enough praise that the other teachers would start to lead them, each finding weapons to suit, adapting to fit their styles, and reconnecting with grey whenever he returned from beyond the walls of their home, demanding all the stories and information. Their midnight laughs and tall tales were what brought them together, he however was privy to some information he withheld from the girls. plum was smaller and far less durable, she would undergo the same Witcher creating process as the boys, a very…sketchy survival rate, a good percentage didn’t pull through. Peach however was far more thick skinned, seemed to possess an unusually high tolerance for some of the more dangerous poisons and potions in the schools labs, and thus the higher ups wanted to test a new method on her. Witchers we’re hard to make, if the new method worked better they could ensure their survival perhaps.

Grey sat on this information for a few days, sparring with them, noticing just how quickly they’d both developed their skills, no wonder the leaders wanted to get on with their turning process. Finally over dinner he mentioned it, both girl falling quiet. It was what they’d trained for but they knew the risks. He didn’t mention peach’s unusual new process, figured she’d find out when they came to get her.

Thing is they never warned peach at all, she expected a horrific process that would either kill her or make her stronger. The girls had a quiet moment waiting to be called for, they shared a room, both just sat there in the quiet. Plum was nervously tapping her foot, wringing her hands. A small kindness, feeling her class mate, the bigger girl opposite her come across and sit beside her on the bed. Didn’t say anything, just took her hand and held it. They waited there like that until someone came to get them.

Didn’t question why peach didn’t go into the same room as plum and the others.

Grey sat up all night. Couldn’t sleep a wink, kept hearing horrifying cries in the depths of their home, the many kids being pumped full of mutagens and tonics. His change was not a good memory, he could only hope his friends would survive.

Plum pulled through much to everyone’s surprise, it was her and two other boys out of two dozen that actually got through it. Some whispered that it was a shame she made it and not one of the others. A murmur that hurt to hear, but she was use to being the one no one wanted around. Even peach was strong enough to overtake most of the boys, and they respected that she took a hit same as they did. Plum eventually emerged, a sight for sore eyes, Grey ran to her, big arms bundling her up, grinning, he was so worried. It was a huge relief, but the elephant in the room was painfully evident. No peach, not anywhere.

A whole month passed. Every night plum returned to her empty room and looked at the bed her friend use to use. Grey asked, and pestered and bothered his teachers, asked where she was, why she’d not been listed in with the dead, why he couldn’t pay respects to her body, where even was it? Not a single adult could say anything, exchanging nervous glances and dodging the subject. Sometimes he swore at night when he’d wander down to get water, he’d hear her, a very distant choked cry, swore it was her.

Then one day she shows up. Like a ghost, peach returns. Plums chair falls back she gets up so fast, grey vaults the table, they’re with her the second she enters the great hall, several others noticing the commotion. Peach is drained, visibly smaller, dark circles under her eyes like someone who’d been pulled back from the dead, hair faded in colour, and yet, to see her friends was all that mattered. she would lie in a bed in searing agony and wish to just sit beside them, if not that, then the relief of death finally. Grey asked what happened, plum prying, helping her to a table to sit. The sight of them both well however was overwhelming, peach just broke down and cried, something no one had ever seen her do. Plum had heard her in the dark of their room some nights, but never seen it, not like this.

They left their questions aside, comforted her, got a meal in the woman, tried to slowly get answers. It was plum sneaking around in the shadows at night, stealthiness used to get sweet treats from the kitchens unnoticed, that she overheard some of the older witchers.

Peach had been a subject in their tests. She had been killed a dozen times, and brought back, in order to strengthen the Witcher powers, and speed up the process. It however took way longer than originally thought, this was the first human test, and it went wrong. Peach suffered for 5 weeks, in and out of living, of consciousness. No wonder she looked like she did. Their conclusion? No one should be subject to that process again. What they did, even by Witcher standards, was too cruel. Plum went back to her room, her friend in her bed, sleeping lightly, sick to her stomach about what she’d learnt, paused at the edge of the room with an intense need to do something about it.

Plum instead of getting in her own bed, put her hand on peach’s shoulder, startling her awake, turning in the dark to see the reflective eyes looking up at her. Pushed her to move over, which she did, and got in behind her friend, wrapped her up in a hug, so angry at the situation. Peach had no idea what was going on, just felt this little woman behind her holding so tight. It was…weird, sure, but plum obviously needed this? So she said nothing, went back to sleep.

Plum told grey everything in secret, they watched peach train and saw despite her withered state she was still fiercely determined. Right back to sword practice without hesitation to rest up more than a day. They swore to not tell her, she didn’t need to know, all that mattered was that she survived. They helped her regain what she lost, the once weak bodied woman regained her muscle mass and then some, started to overtake others in terms of skill, started to laugh and joke again. Before long she was her old self, and the three of them travelled together to take on jobs throughout the kingdom. The secret still remains with grey and plum. Peach hit her stride, all that they wanted to do was be together and find exciting new things to enjoy in life. They have however found it very unusual that they’ve never seen peach go full Witcher, the black eyes, the toxin riddled body. She’ll neck tonics and they don’t seem to poison her even half as much, and her durability is insane, no one should have that much stamina. Whatever was done to her certainly made her stronger, but at what cost.

[ridessgaeyl]

With third-year-riders sitting in the same room as second-year-riders but also first-year-cadets, Xaden glanced down to Violet, who was sitting a few rows beneath him, every now and then while one of his shadows secretly and very discreetly lurked right underneath her table. Having watched her during sparring lessons a couple time now, he knew that there was no way Violet was actually physically capable of winning every single fight after she had lost against Imogen. Seemingly she knew exactly who she was about to fight against in the next training session and considering that all the cadets she won against, looked rather sickly, Xaden already knew that Violet was poisoning them, him being smart enough to figure out, that she had gathered some poisonous berries or plants on her little adventure at night where she had, more or less accidentally, listened to his little club of separatist children.

It was also rather obvious that Violet was in pain, the way she rolled her shoulders proving that and even though it was hidden very well, Xaden could see the light outline of bandages wrapped around her knee underneath her trousers. Standing up with Garrick and Bodhi once class was over, Xaden just for a split second glanced down to Violet again before leaving the room and heading back to Sparring class where he’d train while mostly watching first years get beaten by fellow Cadets until their bones made sounds they shouldn’t make. Officially he was of course watching to look after the other marked children like he had promised to do, also being their because he was a Wing Leader after all, but perhaps Xaden was also looking how the Sorrengail girl would continue to perform during her lessons.

Open Starter - Violet

Violet had spent the better part of Battle Briefing not concentrating. Her mind to focused on the dull persistent ache from her shoulder. She'd tried rolling her shoulder a number of times as subtly as she could, but it did little to even limit the pain. It wasn't uncommon though, so she could live with it. It wasn't unlike the chronic pain that littered her body daily. It had been her own fault though, she hadn't taken into account the adjustment of quantity of the poison to take into account the cadet she had faced in challenge yesterday; but she'd still won, still earned the dagger, and she'd not dislocated her shoulder in the process, that was a win.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hcs about what the training days are like in the mansion and what kind of training they do

Training days are often quite busy in the mansion as everyone is finishing up what they need to do. I will say, on Wednesdays as I've said before, Jeff actually also teaches and hosts a supplementary workout class to help learn general exercises and help build muscle, but aside from that, their actual training days are much more intense and hands on.

They occur twice a week, and the creeps can pick which two days they'd like to train on. The first day is all about weapon management and usage. Even if they're well trained in how to use specific weapons, Slender requires that they keep practicing so that they don't get rusty on their skills and start making stupid mistakes. They're taught different weapons to use, taught about things like poison and tranquilizers, and taught how to use weapons to protect themselves in a very wide variety of situations so that they have a much higher guarantee of coming out alive. They're required to pass specific little training tests in these missions about the various weapons, and if they can use them all correctly and properly they're free to go, but they must pass the training activities before they're allowed to leave. 

The second training day is much more physical and tends to last longer. On these days, they cover hand to hand combat and self defense. They often pair up into groups, and take turns sparring with each other, testing their combat skills in a variety of different ways, often times using a variety of different tools that they might have on themselves. It's also a regular thing for Slender himself to participate on these days to give them a chance to fight a much stronger enemy, and while he often spars with the supernatural creeps, he's likely to also have himself and a creep like EJ or LJ spar with the human residents in a controlled environment to work on their skills when it comes to fighting demons. Slender just feels much more assured if he knows that everyone can handle themselves in a fight, and often encourages them to fight dirty as when it comes to their actual jobs the fight isn't going to be fair. 

[profutured]

Okay, so! Team Star HCs bc I have the brainrot:

Eri is a dog enjoyer. She has a Lucario of her own that she babies like there's no tomorrow, and she especially loves the more strong-looking dogs. Think Maschiff, Granbull, or Poochyena. That's not to say she won't adore a Fidough or Yamper, however! She loves all puppies.

She never felt confident in herself before Team Star. Though she was never bullied before her time in Uva Academy, she always preferred to keep to the sidelines and mind her business. Her transition into 'Infernal Eri', a permanent adoption of her wrestling moniker and luchador mask, came because it was the only way she could find the courage to defend herself. If she saw her bullies as just another opponent to beat, rather than as classmates and people she'd hoped would be her friend, it made it much easier to push back against their efforts and stand up to them when necessary.

Her popularity among the Caph Squad comes because she's... genuinely sweet. She's a kind leader and is always ready to throw herself into battle rather than let her girlies take the hit for her, and she's easily the most forgiving of the Team Star bosses. She instantly forgave Carmen, the girl who started off her bullying to begin with, and welcomed her into Team Star once the students turned on her instead. The two are best friends.

Eri loves to teach, and thinks she might want to become some sort of sports instructor some day. The Caph base is often hosting some sort of event, be it makeup or hairstyling parties, or intense, hours-long sessions on how to battle, wrestle, or spar with an opponent.

She's a huge fan of Alola's Masked Royal. Eri hopes she can battle him one day.

Atticus' real name is Henzo Shūmei. His family are from Johto originally, and Atticus spent some time training under the Elite Four's Koga before he left for Paldea. It's here that he got his Poison-type talent and knowledge, as well as a more in-depth education on what it meant to have ninja ancestors and how to actually fight like one.

He always planned to quit battling and study fashion once he finished his core education, specifically historical fashion and how to design his own inspired pieces. However, he was nervous about how his parents would take the news, especially after all the trouble they'd gone through to secure him a place as one of Koga's students, and he never ended up telling them before he left.

His decision to leave behind his 'real' name was a way to cut himself free of these worries and focus on being true to himself. It's also why he covers most of his face and speaks in deliberately old-fashioned ways - it's an attempt at anonymity and presenting as someone new. He's not Henzo anymore, he's Atticus!

Though his role as the Navi Camp's boss means that he devotes a lot of himself to improving his battles, it's still not his primary passion. He's much happier as the designer for Team Star's custom outfits, and frequently takes on requests for new variations and matching accessories. He took inspiration from Galar's Dynamax phenomenon and made Penny an even fluffier G-Max Eevee backpack, though he's yet to actually give it to her.

Once the game's events have occurred and they start returning to classes, Atticus works closely with Director Clavell to design an appropriate uniform head covering. He understands he can't turn up in his full poison-themed outfit, no matter how much he might want to, but he's not stepping foot in a classroom until he can keep at least a little of his anonymity safe.

[stellar-imagines]

HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝ex-vigilante S/O.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Class 1-A ]

「Headcanons of an ex-vigilante S/O with blood bending quirk transferring to Class 1-A.」

♤ You were thrown into Class 1-A after a few Pro Heroes cornered you and talked about the Quirk restriction laws. Vigilantism was considered illegal in the first place but there was a good reason behind your acts. It took quite some time before you were confronted. Now you were sitting in the classroom with the students of 1-A funded by principal Nezu who found potential in you and claimed that you shouldn't be wasting your quirk so dangerously. Perhaps he found it very sad that someone of your age isn't enjoy their life to the fullest.

♤ Initially, you expected to be judged and shunned by your classmates because of your former history as a vigilante. However, it was the complete opposite, they were very welcoming and were very interested in what kind of heroic acts you had done in your life. Even though you were all similar in a sense ― the desire to become a hero to save people, you had the experience that they don't. Not to mention, everyone was hyped up to have such a cool addition to their class and someone to call their friend. You actually like to tell stories about the days you were a vigilante and Aizawa will silently tell you to not encourage your friends and look back into those days like it was a good thing because it doesn't change the fact that what you did was illegal.

♤ Everyone was further amazed with your quirk, though half of the class panicked when you just cut yourself and began bleeding all over. But they were more amazed when you began to bend your blood, forming a sword. Your quirk allows you to manipulate your blood in various ways like shaping and solidifying it to form objects. In addition, you would change the properties by making it corrosive or poisonous. Iida sometimes make a big fuss over the spilled blood all over the training grounds after every class. As the class representative, he looks after everyone and always finds a way to reprimand you to not overuse your quirk like he's your dad. A few of your friends were concerned whenever you would overuse your quirk, run out of blood and pass out on the floor in the middle of training.

♤ Midoriya and you are basically what they call the number one client but this applied to Recovery Girl's office. The two of you bonded during the period where you both needed to recover from overusing your quirk and breaking bones ― in Midoriya's case. The viridian haired male talked a bit about his quirk a bit because it was meant to be a secret from everyone to begin with. He seems to be very interested in your quirk, asking you multiple questions and writing down a bunch of things in his notebook. Once you befriend Midoriya, you immediately befriended his circle of friends which included Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki and Asui. You slowly befriended your classmates and got to know them better.

♤ Most of your friends were always concerned for you and some of your close friends will keep a snack with him to help you regenerate your blood levels. Sato who loves cake often talks to you about his favorites. He loves making cakes during his spare time and often shares it with everyone. But as a fellow person who needed sweets for your quirk, he likes to give you samples. You like to keep a few chocolate bars and candy inside your bag, sometimes when one of your classmates get hungry, they'd know to turn to you for help since you always had food with you.

♤ Sero, bless this boy, is always willing to share his tape with you whenever you accidentally made a huge cut to use your quirk. At some point, you felt guilty for making him waste his quirk on you but he doesn't seem to mind that much. Yaoyorozu always have spare bandaids for smaller cuts that you have and she always assists you with your small injuries. If Iida was like your dad, Yaoyorozu would be your mom and Sero would be your older brother. These three are always well prepared and looking out for you. It became a habit for the three of them to carry around medical supplies in their bags.

♤ Bakugou gets really annoyed with your quirk because he can't count the amount of times you had sprayed blood all over him during training. Complains a lot about how you shouldn't to rely too much on your quirk and actually decides to teach you some tricks of his. The two of you shared a connection that was quite unique. He would always complain and yell at you whenever you both were sparring but you were both actually real good friends. This guy lowkey looks out for you because you really can't take care of yourself, always overusing your quirk.

Total: 823 words Published: 27.06.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are closed! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[acourtofcharacters]

I’m sure I really don’t want your help. Not with this at least.

Violet immediately thought, not trusting that he would keep her alive if he’d step on the mat with her, her being able to picture a nicer death that possibly getting her neck broken by Xaden Riorson during a simple Sparring class. Well, at least she wouldn’t be the first one to get her neck broken on one of those mats. Jack Barlowe had already done that to someone else. “Are you asking me or are you ordering it?” She asked, clearly already a little annoyed as she tilted her head, doubting that Xaden would leave her much of a choice. If he wanted to go against her right now and kill her on one of those mats he’d simply do so, whether she’d wanted his ‘help’ or not. He owes you something. Violet reminded herself since she hadn’t told on him and the other marked children meeting up in groups bigger than three. As he acknowledged that she had in fact one all her fights with only minor injuries, Violet looked at him in surprise for only a second before quickly trying to look at least neutral again, not having expected him to agree that she had done well in her fights. Fights that only ever lasted a minute due to the other person being poisoned.

As he stepped closer to him so no one else could hear what he was telling her. Violet looked at him slightly surprised again. Why the fuck was he helping her? And why did he sound like she actually had a chance to survive all this? Out of all the people, Xaden should be the one to tell her that she was as good as dead and yet he was one of the very few people who had just made her feel like she actually had to learn things to survive after graduating from Basgiath. Before even really being able to answer something smart and cocky, he just carried on talking, again reminding her that she had missed six entire times to attack, telling her that her training was inadequate for her size and abilities.

“He’s not my boyfriend” she quietly snapped back, knowing that pretending like Dain was her boyfriend would only look bad on both him and her, especially when remembering Mira’s words that no one liked those who screwed themselves to safety. “Since this seems inadequate for my size and abilities, what should I do differently?” She asked Xaden, still not being sure she wanted his advice but rather accepting his help than possibly dying. Violet not being sure though if his help didn’t equal her death.

Violet really had done horrible on following her sisters advice. Stay away from Riorson, don’t make friends, let Dain help you. How was she supposed to follow these rules though when Xaden happened to be a Wing Leader and therefore always somewhere near by, Violet having made her first friend before the Parapet already and Dain just constantly calling her weak and trying to get her to leave the riders quadrant and go to the scribes instead. Without friends like Rhiannon, Vi knew she’d possibly be dead by now. Not even wanting to imagine what things would be like if she’d not have a friend who’d teach her how to fight, ‘weak’ people like her being an easy target for people like Jack Barlowe.

Her mind, her reflexes and her bendiness were truly her greatest advantage, knowing she’d forever be grateful that she had packed a book over poisonous berries and plants in general. With Rhiannon landing a minor hit against her friend, Violet just flinched a tiny bit before quickly assuring her that she was doing alright even though it was definitely going to leave a bruise immediately.

As Xaden stopped right next to them, both stopped in their motion immediately, Violet not at all looking happy about his presence though, quite the contrary actually. Listening to what he had to say, Violets expression didn’t exactly get any happier or even just slightly thankful since to her there was no benefits from his words nor were they uplifting. Xaden just being another person who had basically called her weak and incapable, something she had heard countless times by now. “Thank you for your help” she said sarcastically since it wasn’t even really helpful to tell her that she was too slow. “I’ve won every fight apart from my first though” the young woman added on, highly doubting Xaden had actually stopped by to help her, therefore not seeing any point in asking for advice, deciding to rather pretend that Rhiannon’s training was actually helping her win fights when in reality it had been the poison and not her training sessions.

And now keep walking, you are distracting.

She thought

[zozophoenixxx]

Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge ✨

SEASON 5

Meatlug and Toothless messing around in ep1 when Hiccup and Fishlegs are trying to figure out how to stabilize the island 🥺

I remember when I first watched this I was actually in bio and hearing Ruff and Tuff talk about symbiosis was like " WOW IM LEARNING THAT" 😂😂😂

Symbiotic relationship - symbiosis is the interaction between organisms living in close physical association to the advantage of both

It can lead to -> parasitism - a non-mutual symbiotic relationship between species where the parasite benefits at the expense of the host

- Hookfang and Snotlout have a parasitic relationship JAHDHAHSHA

wait I like that instead of calling a relationship toxic now imma be like "this shii is parasitic peace out ✌🏼️"

HICCSTRID FOREHEAD KISSES OMG😭

I like how Barf and Belch are incredibly strong, I feel like it's a fact that's usually ignored about them

Astrid: *talking about Garf* that dragon has a lot of fight in him

Hiccup: *while placing his hand on her shoulder* he's not the only one

I can't ok I love them too much 🥺

WAIT I JUST NOTICED THE FORESHADOWING WHEN THE TWINS WERE REFERRING TO JOHAN AS A PARASITE OMG 😳

THE BETROTHAL NECKLACE ��😭😭

Fishlegs licking Astrid's hand is hilariousss nonono it's just that scene in general when Fishlegs is trying to help Astrid find the betrothal gift for Hiccup and she judo-flips him and then sits on him like 🤔

Sandbuster - doesn't like the light. Lives underground.

Astrid riding Toothless to save Hiccup. Just badass.

Hiccup giving Astrid the betrothal necklace and telling her that it's ok that she didn't get him anything bc she's the best gift in the world 🥺

And their hug and the way he moved her out of harm's way whenever Snotlout threw the sword

Still sad abt Shattermaster being replaced by the Triple Stryke

I really liked ep3 whenever they were in Berserker island bc we got to see them actually fighting in battle without their dragons it was pretty cool

The beginning of ep4 is also hilarious I can't with Astrid and Snotlout fighting and then also Astrid beating him up JAHDHAHSHA

- I also always wanted to know what Snotlout said to her 😭😭😭 all of them were just extremely concerned and shocked and Snotlout even had to leave the Edge UGH AHZHZHAG

Atali and the Wingmaidens 👏🏼🤩

"Males would neither understand, nor would they be helpful." Atali is a queen

Vanaheim - the last resting place of all dragons

"Sadness is a matter of perspective. It is how you choose to view something that makes it happy, scary, intriguing, or sad"

Ok so is Stormfly a tracker-class dragon or a sharp-class dragon?

Sentinels - Know all the dragons so they know how to deal with each of their tactics. Run Vanaheim. Have never encountered night furies. Good trackers. Blind. They tend to the island

OMG I FORGOT THAT VANAHEIM IS THE SKELETON OF THE KING OF DRAGONS

HAND HOLDING AND KISSES UFFF THANK U

Hiccstrid kiss count: 3😘

It's the way it's so realistic too, the way he smiles at her, the way he holds her hand and looks at her, the way she puts her hand on his chest and he lightly touches it with his free hand I just can't they're too perfect

Snotlout's excitement to see that Fishlegs was Fishlegs again and not Thor Bonecrusher- I mean the dude went running towards him🥺

I love how Hiccup just knows when Astrid's thinking about something

SPARRING HICCSTRID UGHHH I LOVE THIS SCENE

The way he's just in such a good mood afterwards 🥺

The scene leading up to the moonlight flight in ep7. I love them so much.

Hiccstrid Scene: ep7 min 5:42 -> 7:24

Meatlug's shot was the first to free a Singetail from a dragon flyer

Just realized that Johan not being able to get Hiccup's oil was probably also part of a plan to get them away from the edge to attack

Ok but Snotlout actually taking the initiative to be the leader while Hiccup and Astrid were away

The edge 🥺and when he destroyed his own Hut 🥺 I can't 🥺

I love how Mala and Throk were both trying to put the gang in a better mood

Silicates makes Meatlug drool

Tuffnut's Spanish is amazing we love to see a bilingual king✋🏼👑

Just realized that Krogan's name is well... Krogan. I never actually paid attention to the dude.

OMG WE GET TO SEE DRAGO IN THIS SEASON THIS IS CRAZY

I really like the twins in the Wings of War Episodes, the way they attempt to speak Spanish and start pronouncing the Rrrrrrrrs

Spitelout too lmao the way he helped Hiccup 🤩

It was also Spitelout the one that figured out that the Singetails don't like the altitude

I really love how Hiccup actually found a way to fight the flyers without hurting the Singetails, OMG IT REMINDS ME OF AANG when everyone was telling him to just kill the FIRELORD he found the right way

Tuff has a feet fettish

Stormfly and Garff messing around is too funny I love them sm 😭

Snotlout can be so sad sometimes

The twins singing >>

And that hug between Stormfly and Garff, they're just adorable 🥺🤧

HAHDHSHAHA THE WAY ASTRID LOOKED AT FISHLEGS WHENEVER THE SLITHERWINGS SHOWED

Slitherwings - very poisonous dragons! Even their skin is coated in poison. Like snake appearance. Not much is known about its poison and how it works but there is an antidote -> combination of angel fern root, pine sap and Slitherwing venom. The skin coating protects them from Garff's amber

Stormfly is such a badass omg I love her sm the way she protected Garff

Garff is an excellent shot according to Fishlegs

Fishlegs telling Astrid to look at him is just adorable, the way he wanted her to feel better 😭

Have I mentioned how much I love lil Hiccstrid moments? They dont even have to be romantic but just them? Like he just lightly touched her shoulder and told her to be strong and be there for Stormfly 🥺

Snotlout actually being worried about Astrid 🤧

I will never get over Astrid and Stormfly's relationship and how close they are, they would do anything for each other and Astrid just proved that by going up to the Slitherwing and PUNCHING THE LIL SHIT just to get Stormfly the antidote. AND WHEN SHE STARTED CRYING!!! As Tuffnut said "no one has ever prepared us for something like this"

And the Ruffnut being there for her and protecting her 😭😭😭

Astrid can actually draw

Still pissed about the fact that Hiccup never knew Astrid got poisoned NOW I NEED TO READ A FANFIC ON IT

That scene in Snuffnut [ep11] where Throk arrives to take Ruffnut as his wife is too funny. The way Astrid is pissed since the beginning and both Hiccup and Fishlegs are like "umm nope" AND WHEN HICCUP TAKES ASTRID OUT OF THE SCENE AND ALL YOU CAN HEAR IS HIM SCREAMING AND THESE RANDOM NOISES 😩😩😩😂

It really bothered me that Astrid had to stay behind in Looking for Oswald... And Chicken [ep12] just to take care of the twins when we could've had some Hiccstrid 😩😭 but it makes sense because Astrid is the only one Hiccup can actually trust on to keep things under control because even though Fishlegs is kinda sane neither the twins nor Snotlout would listen to him and Snotlout would definitely join the twins or just make things worse somehow. I mean they've both proven themselves to be fully capable but well- yk... Astrid is just Astrid

Astrid and Stormfly's faces whenever the twins said they needes a dragon that loves tracking and chicken😭😂😩

Chicken covering her tracks and Snotlout as narrator 😂

Omg Dagur saw Oswald's dead body... He even had to bury him and wow-

Grim Gnashers - hunters that prey on the sick dragons in Vanaheim.

Chicklet🐥🐥🐥🐥

SNOTLOUT'S TAN LINE OMGGG

"Please let me hurt him. Please? Just-- just a little?"JAHSHAHAJAJ I LOVE AGGRESSIVE DAGUR

Fishlegs saying that "Snotlout can actually be pretty handy in an air battle" is so true. Like we mostly see Snotlout as this dumb, sarcastic, rebellious dude who doesn't care about anyone but himself and but that's actually not true he's actually caring and will fight for the ones he loves but he won't say that because he cares too much about what others think of him 😭

I really dislike Johan sm u guys don't understand like I used to like him and feel bad whenever ppl cut him short but ughhhhhhh it's the subtle things too like him telling Heather to give them the dragon eye, him screaming in Snotlout's ear, not extending his hand to grab Heather, and him putting his hand out to "grab" the lens but just causing Snotlout to drop it

The way Heather jumped to get Windshear and the way Windshear kept telling her to leave and save herself

Archipelago gold = The clouds of corn = pop corn

I can't believe I'm about to start season 6 this is actually so sad

[lysissisyl]

The most precious gift

Late evening. Byleth was sitting is her room, thinking about all that day had brought her. 

Her students had all brought a little token or organized something nice, even some of the students from the other houses had decided to join the celebrations. Mercedes had made a cake (even if Lysithea had eaten at least half of it before Byleth could even try it), Dorothea had written her a song, that  her and Manuela had singed for her at lunch. Caspar had sharpened her sword and made it shine (with a lot of help from Felix, who had totally refused to take any credit for it and had left the room grumbling when it was mentioned). Petra had caught a deer that Raphael had helped roasting, a scene that had earned some snarky comments from Claude. Hubert had prepared a special poison to apply on her weapons that Byleth had to find a very high and safe spot for, while Ferdinand had decided to try helping her learn about her origins and family tree, at least before Jeralt remembered he had something very important he needed to discuss with him. Linhardt had brought a lot of books and ancient parchments with scattered informations about her crest, some of which had been taken by Seteth during a very strangely timed dorm inspection, even though they weren’t actually in the dorm... Oh, well. Bernadetta had brought her a plant she had been growing for her for a while. She had actually left it in front of her door with a note while everyone else was celebrating, but it counted anyway. 

Byleth still felt very confused about it all. As a mercenary, for her birthday she had never done anything that strange or fancy. Jeralt had always made sure she had one of her favorite foods for each meal and they had always camped somewhere peaceful (or at least relatively peaceful, depending on their current whereabouts). The other mercenaries had offered her a chance to try their weapons as a kid or invited her for some sparring as an adult (that’s actually what her and Jeralt had done that morning before class), but that was more or less all there was. The gifts, that kind of gifts at least, were new and Byleth wasn’t sure how to to feel about them yet. 

Of one thing she was sure though: she knew which one was her favorite. It wasn’t something fancy or something peculiar per se, but she had put it on her desk, somewhere she could see it from her bed, because something inside her told her that was one of the most precious things she owned now. 

It was a letter. A very short letter, written on some high quality but very simple paper.

“Dear professor,

I heard today is your birthday and I’ve been thinking for a while about how to make it feel special.

I heard from Leonie that you had never had a party, but I’m not exactly an expert either and, forgive my arrogance, i don’t think you would enjoy it. She said you enjoyed sparring when you worked as a mercenary, but I didn’t want it to feel like I was asking for some special training. Jeralt told me he used to tell you stories, both about the battles he fought and the history of these lands. He said he had stopped far before you could remember them, before you were even able to talk, but you seemed to enjoy them a lot.

So...would you meet me in the Goddess Tower tonight? I’ll tell you a story. 

Kind regards,

Edelgard von Hresvelg."

Byleth ran her fingers on the words, something she had already done multiple times that evening. There ws something in those words and in the way they were written; maybe the calligraphy, so round, sweet and smooth compared to what most people would have expected from Edelgard. Or maybe it was the thought that she had probably done that same gesture too, touched that same paper, maybe with the same doubts, the same uncertainty. 

Byleth shook her head, then folded the letter again and gently put it back on the desk, before grabbing her jacket and heading toward the door. The Goddess Tower... She was curious to hear that story. Her story.

[bluegarners]

Anyone else ever think about how all the Robins were probably scared to punch people the first couple times they ever went out on patrol or fight someone?

Like, yeah, they were trained to fight bad guys three times their size with four times their strength, but they’re all still children.

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I can’t imagine a nine year old punching some big burly dude in the face and not be afraid of doing it. Of not being scared of getting punched back or worse. Little kids tend to think they’re invincible, but we’ve gotta remember that the Robins were all kids who knew how fallible people actually were.

Dick witnessed his parents gets murdered. Jason lived on some of Gotham’s most cruel streets. Tim’s parents drank poison and died/fell into a coma. Damian was raised around bloodshed. They all know what death looks like, but they were all children.

And I can’t help but imagine how it went for them.

Like, Dick was probably raised by his parents to never hurt people. Hurting a stranger was a terrifying idea, even if they were doing something bad. It’s just not in a child’s nature to severely injure another or want to see someone get hurt, and it’s not how he was raised and taught by his parents. And sparring with someone he trusted, someone he knew he couldn’t/wouldn’t hurt, is much different from facing down a pedophile on the streets and taking the decision into your own hands to pummel them as punishment. To feel your fist connect with a strangers face, to kick them and break bones, to leave dark bruises on their faces, to know that all of this is guided with the mentality of

“It’s either me or you, and I don’t want to die.”

All the Robins had to come to terms with this at some point in their lives, some introduced to it earlier than most. Damian, as Robin, was probably the most unfazed simply because of his upbringing, but even then, picturing a four year old being given a sword and being told to fight another kid or else he wasn’t worthy to live is terrifying. 

Dick was introduced into the world of fighting as Robin at age nine. Jason at twelve. Tim at fifteen. Damian at ten. 

They were introduced into the gruesome reality that is going out in the dead of night, when its dark and cold and smelly, to seek out and find the bad guys. And they weren’t all just plain and simple “bad guys”. It was having to confront mass murderers as they laughed at the numerous bodies. It was fighting off a potential rapist in an alleyway. It was having to turn over a “crazy” homeless guy to the police. It was seeing the effects of drug addiction first hand and having to administer CPR after an overdose. It was finding out that that one victim didn’t make it to the hospital in time. It was witnessing the corruption of police officers and doctors as the stuffed money in their pockets. It was seeing that not all of these “bad guys” were bad people and were just people down on their luck, stuck in the wrong crowd, placed in a system that didn’t care about them. It was not understanding why people were bad or chose to do bad things but still having to fight them. It was going home every other night with new bruises, fresh cuts, more nightmares, missed homework, failed classes, public appearances, too much makeup for the press, reading articles about how the dynamic duo was more of a menace than they were a help, and then going out the next night to do it all over again.

So, yeah. I believe that the Robins were probably all terrified to punch someone for the first time.

They were kids after all.

[falling-pages]

only if you want 🔫🔫🔫 #18 for platonic Mitsukuni and Kaoru pretty please 💖

18. Look at where you came from, look at you now.

1k follower event

Thank you for requesting!! I don't think I've ever actually written Honey before, so this was definitely an experience. I hope you like it!

-

Kaoru gulped the water without even tasting it. It was antioxidant--rich, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean--but all that mattered was that it was wet and slaked his thirst. He could have downed sewer water for all he cared--hey, maybe it would have killed him, and he wouldn’t have to compete.

It was wishful thinking. If he had learned anything over the last nine months, it was that Mitsukuni would prop his own corpse up to fight, if it came to that. No excuse worked, not even the old favorites of measles and food poisoning. Hikaru took the fall and painted his face sickly, but his hair had grown dark enough by now that they could be more easily told apart.

Kaoru drained the bottle and crushed it under his fist. He had never peed so many times in one day as he had in the last few hours. Drowning his nerves in water didn’t help, but he thought that maybe if his bladder exploded, he could be excused from the competition.

“You can go home, if you want.”

Kaoru jumped three feet at Mitsukuni’s voice behind him. The older boy dusted his hands, powder floating from the bandages wrapped around his palms and knuckles. Not even a sweatbead traced his brow, despite the warm-ups with the other contestants.

“R-really, senpai?” Kaoru asked, not even trying to hide the eagerness coloring his sentence.

“Sure.” The white dust settled along the black belt cinching his waist. “But you’d be a coward.”

Kaoru scowled, but bit his tongue. Deep in his chest, behind the fear and anticipation, he knew he was right. All that time, pain, and training wasted if he stepped back now.

Mitsukuni’s eyes softened as he looked at his student. He recognized the tense muscles, shaking hands, inflamed ears. There was no way he would even make it to the mat in such a condition. And he couldn’t have that--not for his friend.

When he had agreed to teach him, he went in fully knowing Kaoru’s intentions weren’t pure. There was no logical reason why the up-and-coming track star would suddenly want to switch sports, especially to one that required so much training and effort. Until he noticed the hazel eyes wandering to a certain little brunette watching Takashi train--and then it all made sense.

He had overcome the little crush, standing tall and proud in his final lessons, only focused now on advancing.

“Hey, Kao-chan.” Mitsukuni approached him, settling his hands on his shoulders. Kaoru stared at him in fear, pupils expanding, swallowing air. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I’ve trained you well, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And you earned this red belt.” His hands lowered to tighten the belt around the boy’s waist.

Kaoru swallowed again. “That’s different. Everyone got a red, and that competition was only between me and your other students.” His eyes swept the rest of the room, filled with familiar faces and those unknown, with colors of belts he didn’t even know existed. “But this is an actual competition. I don’t...I don’t know if I can do this.”

Mitsukuni applied more weight to his hands, forcing Kaoru’s shoulders down. They had bunched up to his ears with stress, and even the sparring hadn’t calmed him down. He drew a harsh breath, driving the good energy into his friend.

“I don’t train losers,” he said very simply. “If i hadn’t seen potential in you, I would have never taken you into my class. Do you remember where you came from?” Kaoru closed his eyes, and Mitsukuni chuckled. “Yeah, you were a scrawny first year. Running had made you quick and agile, but you wanted to be strong.” Despite his short stature, he drug his fingers into the other’s shoulders, prodding the fresh muscles. “Look at you now. About to start your third year with a blue belt. You are a force to be reckoned with, and I fully believe in you.”

Kaoru’s eyes fluttered back open, mustering the strength and soaking in his affirmation. A whistle shrieked, accompanied by the roar of his name, ad he could hear his friends screaming in support.

Mitsukuni slapped his shoulder. “Ready?”

He grit his teeth. Power tingled in the palms of his hands. “Yes.”

“Then go get that blue.”

[lucytara]

Bumbleby. Blue. “And now that you’re here realized I need you for survival. I know from the awe in your eyes”

On the day of the reaping, Blake never expects her own name.

She’s never taken tesserae; her name’s in there six times because of her age, and that’s it. It’s her second-to-last eligible year, and she’s six among thousands. She has no reason to expect her own name when some girls in her class have their names in thirty, forty, fifty times - she brushes the nagging anxiety away for days leading up, finding comfort in the words of her family, in Adam, who’s on his last year and isn’t quite as lucky.

“Twenty-one times,” he says, but he’s still scowling. “Could be worse. But it’s still a flawed system. The poorer you are, the less value your life has. Here in Twelve? The Capitol doesn’t even think of us as people.”

Blake’s heard this speech a thousand times, but she hasn’t shared the hardest of his experiences and so she doesn’t stop him. “But what do you want to do, Adam?” she asks. “We can’t do anything. We can barely survive.”

She doesn’t miss the brief, scornful look in his eyes before he masks it with fire. She’s survived easier than he has, with her father as the Mayor, but it hasn’t been easy for any of them. “You’re right,” he says, though his tone’s taken on an odd, darkly thoughtful quality. “We can’t. But victors…” he trails off, shredding a loose leaf in his hand, strip by strip. “If I were a victor, I might.”

–

“Blake Belladonna!”

She rewatches the scene from third-person, as if it’s a dream she’s having, only it’s happening a split second after inside of her own skull. The perfectly manicured hand of their escort dipping a hand into the jar and pulling the crisp, white slip of paper with Blake’s name on it caught between her fingers. Her hazy, disoriented walk to the steps, the hem of her dress batting against her ankles. She’s not there. She’s in the Capitol, watching herself called to the death and starting, already, to murmur about her odds.

But Adam. She sees Adam perfectly.

Sees him step forward to volunteer for a boy whose name Blake doesn’t even know. Sees the crowd shifting uncomfortably, uncertain what to make of the move. Sees some of them clutching their hearts, some of them shaking their heads. And she sees Adam, unable to hide the victorious smirk in the corner of his mouth.

–

“I’m so sorry, Blake,” her father says, his hand on her shoulder as her mother embraces her, weeping. “I never wanted this for you. For any of us.”

If so many people don’t want this, Blake thinks numbly, why do we still have it?

–

Their mentor’s a woman named Sienna Kahn, now in her early thirties after having won her Games at fifteen. She’s tough, hard around the edges, as Blake imagines anyone would be who’s watched countless children die under their watch. Blake doesn’t understand, but she understands - Sienna doesn’t want to get attached.

She and Adam barely speak - her silence falls to the fact that she’s on her way to her own murder. But Adam’s?

Well, she’s seen this quiet intensity from him before. And he’s making plans.

–

There’s more to work with than Sienna thinks there is: for one, she and Adam both know their way around a sword, and she’s no stranger hitting a target with a knife. Teenage boredom, she says when Sienna asks, and despite the doubt, she doesn’t push it further.

I wanted to help people, is the real answer. When I saw how Adam had been treated, I wanted to help. And then I saw how many people were like him, I wanted to do more than that.

“Your father’s a good man,” Sienna says instead, arms crossed over her body. She’s holding a far-off look in her eye, and instantly Blake knows she’s being told information specifically because Sienna thinks she won’t be alive to repeat it later. “He fought for people the only way he could, and I’m sure he almost died for it. I thought he wasn’t doing enough, back then. But I get it now.” She fixates her gaze on Blake again, solidly in the present, still on the same train car to a mass grave. “What do you have to fight for, Blake?”

Adam’s listening for her answer, and she says the only thing she’s thought since her name was called the day before. “Honestly? I don’t know why we’re fighting at all.”

A smile works its way to the edge of Sienna’s mouth, but it isn’t happy. It’s full of regret. “Yeah,” she says. “I used to think like that, too.”

–

They watch the other reapings. There’s a pair of volunteers from One who seem like they come as a set, with equally stupid names: Emerald and Mercury. Then she only really remembers the girl from two, who looks fourteen and innocent, but Blake knows better. The red-headed girl from three, who stands tall. A girl from five, missing an eye. A large boy from eight.

But the one reaping that sticks in her mind from the minute she sees it is the reaping from Four.

A girl’s name is called, and there’s a brief bout of hysteria from the crowd while a girl with long, blonde hair tugs her back and volunteers in her place. The younger girl just screams, but the older girl - Yang - just stands on the stage, slowly putting herself back together. It’s like Blake can see it happening - see her locking her heart away. Putting all that love she has for her sister somewhere it can’t be used against her.

“Pathetic,” Adam murmurs, because he hates weakness. He’s proud to see himself volunteer, steady and confident. “To protect you, of course,” he clarifies, and nothing’s ever been further from the truth.

Strangely, all Blake can comprehend is that she’s looking forward to tomorrow - getting to see Yang in person.

–

Their outfits are stunning, as is their debut. They have a compelling story: the mayor’s daughter from Twelve and the boy determined to keep her alive. It’s a television show, Sienna says. It’s about the narrative.

Blake finds that flash of blonde hair in the crowd. She thinks she sees seashells winding their way down a braid, and a net is woven to create some sort of dress. Yang clearly hates it, but she says something to the boy from her district, and he laughs.

Laughter isn’t a simple thing to come by in the Hunger Games. She decides, for no reason at all, that she likes Yang.

–

After the parade of horses, their team is riding on a high; she’s kept herself grounded, though, unwilling to entertain any ideas of survival. She’s walking to the elevator when she swears she catches Yang staring at her, but she blinks and she’s only met with Yang’s profile, her chin dropped and her eyes averted down.

–

Yang is a mystery in the training room. She spends most of her time at the wildlife stations, learning to tie knots, painting patterns, identifying poisonous plants. She never spars, or uses any of the weapons, really, but she lifts weights, punches a bag around a bit. Blake can tell everyone’s set on edge by her presence, not able to tell the extent of her power, skill, ability. It’s uncommon to hide that sort of thing during training, but her muscles tell their own story. There’s more to her than she’s allowing them to see.

That doesn’t stop Blake from watching her, though. From cataloguing where she spends her time and how it allows her to feel. She’s not as guarded as the rest of them - she seems to like making traps, because she gains this look of concentration as she follows along with the instructor, knotting rope around her fingers. She spends a little bit of time with the boy from her district, and almost against his will, he appears slightly enamored with her. In fact, a lot of them do, though they try to hide it. Blake isn’t the only one who watches her.

She’s so absorbed with the state of affairs that she doesn’t notice who isn’t, but she does notice there’s an energy between her and Adam that wasn’t palpable before, and now it seems to be coating the room.

“Thinking about allies, Blake?” he says over dinner, light enough to pass as a joke but sinister enough to be a threat.

“No,” Blake says, because she’s only thinking about the quickest way to die.

She hopes she can at least see Yang, wherever she is when it happens.

–

Her knife sinks directly into the red dot, signaling a bulleye on their human-shaped target. She’s not paying attention to the show she’s putting on; all she’s really doing is daydreaming while she idly throws knives. It helps her think. Gives her clarity.

They’re easy to flick. Most people don’t understand the wrist movement, the finesse - they tie it to strength, rather than purpose. That’s why Blake’s so good at it; she’s about precision, not power. That’d always been Adam.

Someone is watching her. Actually, as she comes back into herself, many people are watching her, but only one she cares about: Yang, back at the trap station, staring unfettered.

Blake abruptly puts her knives down. The worst part of the Hunger Games, she’s starting to understand, aren’t the games themselves. That’s going to awaken survival instincts, desperation for life - primal, unhindered urges. No, no, the worst part of the Games is now, these few days before, when they’re taken care of so exquisitely, when shiny, beautiful things are dangled in front of them and cruelly ripped away.

“Why?” she can’t resist asking, kneeling beside Yang. “Why did you do it?”

Yang’s eyes haven’t left her, but her fingers stall around the rope, as if surprised by the question. She examines Blake with a strange intensity, but an openness Blake still isn’t used to from any other tribute. Everyone’s either closed off or showing off, genuinity nowhere to be found. Except perhaps the redhead from Three. Pyrrha. She’s been spending some time teaching a much smaller, younger boy how to throw a spear. He doesn’t stand a chance, but Pyrrha must know that.

“Don’t you have someone?” Yang says, drops her gaze back to the knot. “Someone you’d die for?”

Her parents. Her friends. Adam. “No,” Blake admits honestly. “Nobody.” There are no cameras yet. No one to hurt with the admission. Adam had called her selfish, once; maybe he’d been right.

But Yang laughs, once and under her breath. “Maybe you’re better off that way,” Yang says, not unkindly. Her smile’s sad and quiet; whatever memories rise, they’re memories for her to cherish one last time. That’s how all memories feel these days. “My sister is my life.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Blake says, captivated by every word out of Yang’s mouth; how real she sounds. There’s no show; she’s not aiming to impress, or grasping at pity. She’s here because of a choice she made, and she’ll live and die with that. Blake wonders what that’s like: to have a choice. “Not many people would do what you did.”

“Well, what about you, Belladonna?” Yang questions, sitting up a little straighter, expression a sliding door that suddenly gives way to teasing. There’s a tone underneath, though - heavy - like a lingering doubt. “The guy who volunteered for you. To protect you, right?”

She’s close - she’s kept her volume low. She’s not stupid. She’s playing this conversation with an angle, but it isn’t for her own benefit.

Blake turns her head, locks onto Adam’s hand clenched around the grip of his sword, lunging strikes at a dummy. She feels the familiar uncurling of fear in her stomach, a dark and massive shape lingering just below. Ominous and foreboding.

“Yeah,” Blake says, and looks away. “He did.”

Picking up on her discomfort isn’t hard, and it isn’t something she’s actively tried to mask; Yang pauses strangely, gaze flickering between them. She infers, “It’s not a good thing, is it.” And trains her focus on Blake again. “It’s not good that he’s here.”

“I don’t know,” Blake admits. “He - I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“Maybe you aren’t.”

“He wants me to believe it is,” she says finally. “He told me all he wants is to see me safe.”

“And you think he’s lying?” Yang asks, like a story she’s invested in, though Blake isn’t quite sure why.

“I think,” Blake starts, and at last puts into words what exactly has haunted her since the reaping days earlier, “that Adam wants to win, and he thinks he can use me to do that. Use my loyalty to him.”

The knot effortlessly tightens and unravels between Yang’s fingers. It seems to be an unconscious habit, and one she’s better at than her hours at the station might’ve led them to believe. “Hm,” she says, poking her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You’re good with those knives, that’s for sure. It makes sense that he’d rather have you as an ally than an enemy - help him take out all the threats, and take you out himself.”

“Perceptive,” Blake says, impressed despite her dawning horror; she’d been so good at pushing it down, at talking herself out of circles, at trusting him despite the signs. In one conversation, Yang’s forced her to undo all that. She echoes Yang’s earlier words to her. Maybe it’s for the best.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Yang says, and subtly jerks her head in his direction. “With how purposefully he’s showing off his swordplay, I’m amazed he even remembers you exist.” She rolls her eyes. “Men.”

And Blake laughs. Like Yang’s district partner at the parade. It’s accidental, and nearly shocking in its sincerity, but she laughs anyway. She doesn’t have a choice. “Men,” she agrees, and Yang laughs too.

That’s the first time Blake thinks about living.

–

The first time Yang thinks about dying - dying willingly - is their final day in the training center.

Blake Belladonna, beautiful and clever and entirely obvious to everyone but herself, locates her at the camouflage station, attempting to blend her hand into a sandy coastline. She stares quizzically down at the pattern, eyebrows knitting together, and Yang makes the connection with a laugh. “You’ve never seen the ocean.”

“No.” Blake shakes her head. “What’s it like?”

“Well, I’m no artist,” Yang says, wiggling her fingers, “but kinda like this. Blue, green, boundless - sometimes I think about just diving in the water and swimming as far as I can. Swimming away.” She adds, “Salty.”

And then Blake reaches for a paintbrush, deliberately dragging her fingers along the back of Yang’s hand, leaving streaks of blue paint. She pauses; Yang keeps breathing, but it’s a struggle. She says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yang says.

“Don’t die.” She takes the brush, and swirls it into the yellow paint. “Don’t give up.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Yang asks, almost unnerved at the sentiment, fighting against the way it makes her want to cry. Her skin feels raw where Blake had touched her, and the marks remain.

“Because,” Blake says softly, “I think you deserve better than this.”

“I think we all do,” Yang counters, flaring up - it’s not just me, she wants to say. You deserve better. You. There are so few beautiful things left. You.

“But the rest of us aren’t here because there’s someone we care enough about to protect.” Blake lets it hang between them. “You’re a good person, Yang. Anyone can tell that much.”

Yang’d never understood the Capitol and its fascination with tattoos as a statement. Now she stares at the blue streaks across the back of her hand, and wonders about wearing it forever.

She’d die, she thinks. She’d die for Blake, too.

–

She spars for the first and last time after that, and one of her blows sends the trainer flying off the practice area and into the concrete, knocking him unconscious.

But she sweats the paint off, and finds without it, it’s a little easier to breathe.

–

Their scores aren’t surprising. Adam pulls a nine. Blake gets a ten - Adam pretends to be happy for her, but she sees that facade cracking instantly.

Yang gets an eleven.

“Her?” Adam spits out, clearly infuriated. He’s already seeing red.

“She’s a genius,” Sienna says at the revelation, shocking Adam into silence. “You’re good with a weapon, Adam, and anyone will give you that. But unarmed? You’re nothing.” She jerks her head towards the blonde girl on-screen. “You can’t disarm her. She’ll kill you with her bare hands.”

“Her?” Adam snarls. “If she gets within my line of sight, she’s–”

“You think she doesn’t know how to dodge a sword?” she asks, and Adam bristles once again with no response. “Do you truly believe a girl whose primary skill is hand-to-hand combat doesn’t know how to evade an attack? You’re a fool if you cast her aside as a threat, Adam. She’s the most dangerous one here.”

Blake stares blankly at her picture, wondering if it’s intelligence, if it’s determination, passion, will. Wonders if Yang’s trained for this, if she’s excited, if she’s terrified. Wonders if it’s all just luck, a mixed bag of rot and gold.

But Blake recalls the tapes of the reapings, across every district, and she remembers none of them as clearly as she remembers Yang’s - not even her own. Yang’s; a reaping that wasn’t supposed to be hers at all.

Ruby! Ruby! No!

Armed guards in white holding her back, or trying to, but being no match for her strength.

I volunteer! She hears Yang’s scream in her mind, even now, days later, sees her pushing her way to the platform. I volunteer as tribute!

Or, Blake thinks, maybe it’s just what she’s always done to survive.

–

Blake’s tactic, they’d decided, is mysterious and alluring: she’s to answer her interview in short, vague answers, and smile as though she’s hiding something. It’s not hard. She’s hiding so much from herself already that it barely even feels like a tactic.

Yang goes for sexy and powerful, and she doesn’t even have to try. People in the audience are literally fanning themselves as she’s interviewed. She looks stunning in her dress, her heels, red-lipped and eyes that seem to match underneath the stage lights.

“I just want my sister to know I love her,” she says at the end, a calculated vulnerability that makes every citizen watching want her even more, moaning about how strong and brave she is, protecting her younger sister like that.

“She makes me sick,” Adam says, face warped with hatred, and suddenly, it isn’t her own safety she’s worried for.

–

It’s a diversion. Confuse Adam, make him scramble for a new plan, make him rethink his strategy. Because Yang had been right, and Blake’s instincts had been, too: he wants to win. And when you want to win, everyone else is a target.

So during her interview, she confesses, “I know I can win. But I’ve met someone here who I’d really like to keep alive, even more than that.”

The interviewer goes insane. “Another tribute?” he says. “You’ve met someone here?”

Blake shrugs, pretending to be coy. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

He groans, begs her for details, and she says next to nothing, but the audience eats it up - she sees the camera focus on her as the show closes, hoping to catch her eyes flickering to another tribute. She stares straight ahead, speaking to no one until they’re backstage.

“Adam, not now,” Sienna says immediately, pointing him to the elevator. “Go upstairs. We’ll meet you there.” He grits his teeth, but does as he’s told. Sienna turns on her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Blake says lowly, “and neither are you. We both know what Adam’s plan is. Or was.”

It’s a statement that forces Sienna into a corner, and she relents after a few seconds of the two of them staring each other down. “You’ll be his first target now, not his last,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter the order,” Blake says, brushing by her to the elevator. “I’ve been number one on his list for a long, long time. But I’m not playing the Games on his terms anymore.”

“Well, you’ve given them a hell of a narrative,” Sienna says, following her, reluctantly impressed. “The whole Capitol’s dying to know who your lucky love interest could be, since it’s not him.”

Yang shoves her arm through the elevator door just as it’s about to close. “Mind if I catch a ride?” she asks, stepping inside, her heels held in her hand.

So, maybe Blake should’ve thought through her plan, because at the moment, Yang’s a foot away from her and absolutely the most beautiful girl Blake’s ever seen in her life, and her story for the cameras turns out to be more true than she’d meant it to be.

“Oh, it’s you,” Sienna says, throwing up her hands. Apparently Blake’s staring is noticeable. “Of course it is. Blake, you’re on your own.”

“No, she’s not,” Yang murmurs, and brushes her fingers against Blake’s, hanging between them. “She’s got me.”

–

There’s a vibrancy to her when she disembarks, an urgency to her mouth. Find me, she says, leaning close, grasping Blake’s hand. Find me in the arena. Or I’ll find you. Okay?

“Why?” Blake asks again, unable to comprehend anything Yang does or says, unable to reconcile the motivation behind it.

“Because I want you alive,” she says, and lets go. “I want you to live.”

You’re insane, Blake wants to say. None of us will live except one. And out of all of us, it should be you.

But the next morning, standing on the platform, she finds Yang three spaces down from her, and their eyes meet as if by gravitational pull.

Find me, Yang mouths, and the cannons blast.

[uchihasakurawrites]

A Lesson in Practicality (1)

Rating: T for language & depictions of violence

Summary: It takes a near-death experience in Yukigakure for Sakura to realize that Sasuke has her back in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3,154

A/N: This idea was going to be a short drabble, but the storyline ended up going in a direction that I didn’t initially plan for. There will be a Part Two (of 2). Part One has more implied SasuSaku - Sasuke will play a much more significant role in the next part! There’s a very high chance that this is going to be a prequel for the longer SasuSaku fic I’m currently working on. 

Let me know what you think, please!! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback on my work thus far~ 

Cross-posted on AO3 and Fanfiction

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Sakura had heard enough stories from her fellow kunoichi about birthday gifts from their boyfriends to know that Sasuke’s definition of a gift was unique, to say the least.

Sai’s most recent gift to Ino was simple - a modest bouquet of flowers, carefully cultivated to convey a special message, a basket of cherry tomatoes from his personal garden, and a painting of the two of them on what Ino later told Sakura was their engagement day. Naruto once took Hinata on a two-week getaway to the hot spring resorts of Yugakure for her first birthday after they became official (though Hinata later let it slip that Naruto hadn’t informed Hiashi of their vacation and was subsequently banned from the Hyuuga compound for the foreseeable future). Chouji hosted a surprise birthday party for Karui just a few months after she migrated to Konoha, complete with her closest friends from Kumogakure and a home-cooked buffet. Even Shikamaru had stepped up his game with a private couple’s cooking class at Amaguriama, knowing that Temari would punt him to Suna if he showed up with just the personalized shogi piece he had originally planned on giving to her.

Temari had still barely let him escape, fully aware that Shikamaru had organized the class in hopes of never having to go out of his way to buy her favorite sweets again if she could just make them herself. Watching him burn three batches of roasted chestnuts was enough of a gift in itself.

Sasuke hadn’t been in the village for any of Sakura’s birthdays since before his defection back in their genin days. Even then, she couldn’t remember him going out of his way to give her a gift beyond grumbling out a low “Happy Birthday” if team training happened to coincide with her birthday.

To say that Sakura was shocked when she awoke to the tap tap tap of a messenger bird at her window before dawn on her nineteenth birthday was an understatement. Her grumbles at being awakened at such an hour on a day Ino had explicitly banned Sakura from working stopped the second she recognized the bird as Sasuke’s hawk. After fumbling with the latch on her window for a moment - she swore that the hawk gave her some serious side-eye when it took her three tries to get the latch to unstick - she held out her wrist for the bird. It left in the next breath, right after Sakura untied the scroll it was carrying. Sakura frowned at the hawk’s manners as she hadn’t even gotten to send a reply but realized she shouldn’t expect much. Of course Sasuke’s summons would take on his taciturn attitude.

The note tied to the scroll was simple: A last resort.

Huffing a laugh at the note, which was so very Sasuke, Sakura made quick work of the scroll’s seal. She immediately recognized the script as a summoning scroll, though she couldn’t parse out exactly what the summons was. Most likely one of Sasuke’s if he had sent it to her - a hawk or a snake. She sincerely hoped for the former.

Her first Chunin exams had effectively wrecked snakes for her.

Sakura resealed the scroll with a small smile. She had learned what she was getting into quite quickly when she first realized her love for Sasuke ran deeper than a surface-level crush. Any relationship she had with him wouldn’t be normal, be it romantic or platonic. Sasuke’s definition of a relationship was understandably different than most others; she had to learn how to read into the small gestures and unspoken words he left between them - the forehead pokes, the thank you’s, and the occasional mumbled annoying. There would be no typical gifts, no grand romantic gestures, and she was okay with that.

She had hardly expected a congratulatory note for her birthday, let alone a physical gift. Sure, a summoning scroll might not be the most conventional gift, but Sakura figured the practicality of it summed up Sasuke’s approach to relationships perfectly: securing the safety of those closest to him. This particular gesture meant she was at least somewhere on his (very short) list of valuable people in his life.  

So when she tucked the scroll away, she did so with a smile, knowing that the added weight next to her medical supplies was a comfort that Sasuke had her back no matter where he was.

                                                 *   *   *   *   *

Sakura discovered that sentiment was far more literal than she had initially thought as she fled the scene of an assassination mission gone wrong in Yukigakure. Eliminating the target - a noble displaced by the war who sought to sow seeds of discontent against the ruling family - was fairly straightforward. A quick henge, a few unconscious guards, and a convenient chakra-induced heart attack left no trace to Konoha or the royal family.

The bounty hunters on her tail were decidedly less straightforward.

Since the end of the war, Sakura’s field mission count had dropped drastically. With Tsunade out of the village, rebuilding and strengthening Konoha’s medical system fell squarely on her shoulders. Ino’s support with the Children’s Mental Health Clinic left some room in her schedule for diplomatic medical missions to neighboring villages as a show of goodwill after the Allied Shinobi Forces dissolved, but she was rarely included in combat units. Kakashi had only assigned her to this solo mission as a favor to Koyuki since she was already familiar with Sakura from her genin days. Relations between Konoha and Iwagakure had been steady enough after the war, but Kakashi couldn’t risk instability in a country so close to Iwa.

While Sakura had kept up with her combat skills as well as she could through spars and periodic demonstrations at the Academy, she could feel the rust in her reaction times as she adjusted her own fighting style to the unfamiliar terrain. Snow meant additional chakra expenditure to maintain body temperature and keep her feet planted firmly on the ground; it took her the first few moments of the pursuit just to adjust her fighting style so that she wouldn’t go skidding across ice when she followed through on her punches.

It was the split second of hesitation between her noticing the first hunter rapidly approaching from behind and actually lunging to the left to avoid his attack that cost her a kunai to the thigh. The wound was deep, but Sakura was less concerned about the fact that she could clearly see the muscle fibers in her leg and more concerned about neutralizing the unknown poison that was trying to spread from it. Sewing the skin together enough to stop the bleeding was second nature; it was maintaining a chakra net around the wound to contain the poison that required a bit more focus.

Based on both their speed and specialized jutsu, Sakura guessed the hunters were at least jounin-level. Ten to twelve  total based on a quick extension of her sensory jutsu. Had this been a different situation, Sakura would have been flattered that someone thought she was dangerous enough to send so many high-level shinobi to ambush her. She made a quick mental note to thank Karin for training her in a variant of the Kagura Shingan jutsu.

Running forever wasn’t an option, especially at the pace she was being forced to keep. She needed to start picking these guys off - she figured she had faced far worse odds and won.

Sakura slid to a stop and waited precisely six seconds for about half of the hunters to catch up before she drove her fist into the ground. Unsteady ground and low visibility from the snow she had loosened caught the two closest hunters off guard, and she pressed her advantage to neatly slice their jugulars open with chakra scalpels. She took note of their appearance, standard shinobi gear in shades of white and grey and curiously blank hitai-ates linked around both of their necks, and paused just long enough to snatch one of the headbands for later inspection. She tucked it into her medical pouch before rounding to face the next wave of hunters.

Most of the remaining nin were smart enough to keep their distance; they must have done enough research on her to know that engaging her in close-combat was the fastest way to lose. The nin fell into a loose semicircle formation around her, half close enough for mid-range attacks and half further back. If they were Iwa or Yuki missing nin, she could expect mostly Water and Earth-style jutsu - the same affinities she had, but probably much more practiced.

Keeping a firm hold on her Kagura Shingan to track her opponents, Sakura quickly formed the seals for Suiton: Kiri Shikaku she had picked up during a brief stay in Kiri and saw an immediate improvement in her vision. She caught four hunters in her visual range and charged forward, hoping to close the distance between them fast enough for her to get a clean hit. All four flew through the same familiar sequence of hand signs she had seen from Iwa nin during the war, and a solid rock wall about ten feet high erupted in her path.

Not deterred in the slightest by the barrier, Sakura augmented her speed with chakra and drove a fist into the wall. The rock gave more resistance to her wrist than normal, so she quickly adjusted the chakra concentration in her knuckles to absorb the additional force. The hunters, she guessed, had infused their chakra into the wall in hopes that the reinforcement would injure her wrist or at least slow her down.

Sakura smirked as her fist drove clean through the wall and followed her punch up with a roundhouse to shatter it. Their chakra control was good if they could spread it so finely across the surface of the wall - but hers was better.

She darted towards the closest target and delivered a punch to his gut that snapped his spine clean in half. His partner appeared at her side in the next breath, driving his katana towards her neck and forcing her to drop to her knees to dodge. Sakura swept her leg underneath the nin’s feet, ignoring the stinging sensation of the snow on her skin as she followed the nin’s dodge up with a well-aimed kunai. The weapon landed squarely in the back of his dominant hand and forced him to change grips on his katana.

A small part of Sakura’s mind was immediately suspicious when the two other nin closest to them chose to charge her head-on instead of retreating. Perhaps she had given them too much credit if they were reckless enough to rush into a taijutsu battle with her just because she had taken a few of them out.

It made more sense when chains of water shot out from the ground to bind her ankles and wrists firmly to the ground - the work of the long-range nins’ combined Suiton: Suikusari no Jutsu. They must have been watching for an opening to slow her down long enough for the mid-range hunters to close in on her and deliver a killing blow.

The chains were sturdier than any suiton she had faced in the past, no doubt due to the number of hunters who were focused on restraining her. Sakura channeled a burst of pure chakra to the surface of the skin on her wrists, ankles, and torso; anywhere the chains touched, she honed in on. She could either drive her chakra into the chains, slow down the water molecules in them so that they turned to ice, and shatter them, or push her chakra directly outwards to free herself long enough to move away from the chains.

The first option would have been a more permanent solution, but the breath of a hunter nin on her neck forced Sakura into the second. With a shannaro! Sakura willfully tore her body out of the chains, redirected the chakra to her feet, and used the closest nin’s chest as a platform to fling herself over the chains and out of reach. She shoved one foot into the woman’s chest and used the other to bat a kunai with an explosive tag away from them both.

What Sakura didn’t account for was the nin she had planted her foot on reacting quickly enough to snag her ankle and drag her to the ground with her. She used the momentum of her fall to slide further away from the chains and twisted her ankle to free herself. Ice-covered rocks sliced at her forearms and stomach, but she drove her fingers into the ground to lever herself forward.

Crippling pain radiated from her ankle as soon as she was free, drawing a hoarse cry from her throat. She hadn’t seen a weapon in the nin’s hand, and there was no open wound. A second wave of searing pain nearly brought Sakura to her knees yet again, and she reached out for her medical chakra to send to inspect the area as she narrowly vaulted over a windmill shuriken -

Only to find that summoning her chakra felt like pulling a viscous liquid through a fine sieve. The chakra that had been isolating the poison around her wounds only stayed in place from sheer force of will. She spared a quick glance at her ankle, eyes widening at the black seal branded onto her skin.

Fuinjutsu.

Sakura didn’t recognize the seal and didn’t have time to inspect it further. Water chains exploded from the ground beneath her just as four hunters lunged at her from each direction. She jumped into the air, twisting to narrowly avoid a series of kunai. A loose shuriken lodged into her calf. Sakura immediately recognized the signs of poison digging into her system; she also recognized with a growing trepidation that it took far more of her concentration than she could spare to dredge up the medical chakra necessary to isolate it.

Whatever seal the hunters had placed on her was blocking her chakra flow, but not in a way she had experienced before. Training with Shizune’s poisons and Hinata’s tenketsu blocks hadn’t prepared her for this. Her chakra wasn’t completely inaccessible, but it was as though a fine mesh had settled over each of her chakra points. It was as though the hunters hoped she would continue trying to mold her chakra, exhausting herself enough in the process that they could take her out.

Her dread grew when she reached out for her Byakugo only to feel the same fine mesh blocking her access. She could still feel the mass of chakra settled behind her forehead, but she doubted she could summon enough of it fast enough to make a significant difference in this fight.

Sakura had a sinking feeling that this seal, which she hadn’t even come across in the Uzumaki fuinjutsu scrolls Naruto had lent to her, was designed specifically to hinder ninja with her level of chakra control and reserves. It didn’t matter how much control she had if it took her six times as long to drag her chakra to a specific point. Keeping the poison in her system at bay occupied enough of her attention at the moment. Evading the seemingly endless water chains that followed her and the four nins on her tail only added to her exhaustion.

One of the hunters managed to land a kick squarely on her side, cracking at least two ribs. Sakura took another blow to her back, and she twisted to catch the nin’s ankle. She snapped it cleanly in two, baring her teeth as she drove a kunai into the kunoichi’s neck before she could finish the seals for an Earth-style jutsu.

She managed to keep with this rhythm long enough to incapacitate another two nin but knew that she was reaching her limit. She took a half dozen more hits from the closest hunters and a particularly nasty cut from a katana before she pulled back, focused on her seal, and pushed. Black lines twisted down her face and startled the hunters long enough for her to shunt what chakra she could get ahold of to the soles of her boots. The force of the chakra from her seal was enough to push what little she needed through.

Sakura took off at a sprint, running as far and as fast as she could in the opposite direction of the hunters who immediately followed suit. Knowing her options were limited, Sakura scrambled behind the first large boulder she could find and snapped the highest level genjutsu she could manage over the surrounding area. Her jaw clenched to choke off a scream at the fire that lanced through her chakra network as she forced her chakra into the jutsu.

Her chakra control, it seemed, was not better than whichever nin had developed this seal.

She quickly surveyed her condition - several lacerations, at least two cracked ribs, and more poison in her system than she could afford to isolate at once - and realized that the seal on her ankle was not only making it more difficult to mold chakra but also draining it. Sakura immediately withdrew her own chakra, slamming her Yin seal down before the hunter’s seal could touch her reserves. Without her Byakugo, Sakura figured she barely had enough chakra to maintain her genjutsu and keep the poison around her major wounds locked in place. Healing herself would do nothing but leave her drained and vulnerable when the hunter nins eventually found her.

Her genjutsu skills had improved drastically under Kurenai’s tutelage, but the hunter nins would eventually figure out what she had done and double back to find her. They knew as well as she did that she wasn’t in a condition to flee very far.

Without hesitation, Sakura withdrew the summoning scroll Sasuke had given her from a pouch at her hip and snapped it open. She didn’t have enough chakra to summon enough of Katsuyu to be useful, and Sakura would be long dead before reinforcements came even if she did ask Katsuyu to send a message to Konoha.

As much as she hated snakes, Sakura desperately hoped for Aoda as she drew a bloodied thumb across the parchment (though the rational part of her brain noted she probably didn’t have the chakra to handle that level of summons either). She blanched at the strain the summons put on her chakra network and wondered belatedly if she had overestimated how much of what little chakra she had left she could actually direct towards the summons. Slamming her eyes shut with a choked cry, Sakura visualized grabbing onto the thin trails of chakra that creaked through her veins and pulled.

If she’d had the energy for it, Sakura is certain she would have screamed when it was neither a hawk nor a snake that appeared before her - but rather, Sasuke Uchiha himself.