How the Living Legend Fights Statues over His Fiancee’s hand

I believe most of you have seen fans’ writing about Victor getting jealous over Yuuri’s ‘ex-lover’ Shachihoko or ‘Chihoko’. If you haven’t, please read them because you will not understand what I’m talking about next.

So firstly, what is Chihoko? Shachihoko しゃちほこ (鯱) is a mythical carp with the head of a lion and the body of a fish (auspicious protectors of well-being) and it looks like this:

And as you can see, they are VERY flexible. So when Yuuri taunted Viktor ‘Shachihoko is more flexible than you’ he actually talked about this half fish-half lion statue! Victor did not even get jealous to Yuuri’s human ex-lover, he got jealous over an effing statue!

But the story doesn’t stop there!

As you know, both Viktor and Yuuri were really drunk. And somehow a drunk Viktor is more extra than a sober Viktor. So he did what a jealous drunk lover do. He went to find and tried to challenge his rival ‘Chihoko’. But where is Chihoko?

That is the picture of Karatsu ‘Hasetsu’ Castle where Shachihoko or Chihoko lives.

So now, imagine a living legend Viktor Nikiforov. Imagine him climbing the Hasetsu Castle NAKED, challenging two ‘Chihoko’ he encountered, telling them “You maybe Yuuri’s past, but I’m his future!”

???!!!!! He is so extra I can’t take it anymore!!!!

Returning to some dragons concepts………..//

Lindworms are much like crocodiles in their behavior, but far more tolerant of cold winters due to their ability to hibernate. They grow slowly, but the largest species, commonly known as the knucker, can reach 15 feet over the course of decades. Lindworms are ambush predators, blending perfectly into their wetland environments and using their brightly colored tongue to lure fish and bird prey. True lindworms are venomous, delivering it with a special hinged “rat’s tooth”. They usually save it for larger prey, such as deer (or in later centuries, sheep and cows), allowing them to succumb over the course of about 12 hours. Females lay their eggs in the spring and bury them under a pile of rotting vegetation. They viciously guard the nest and the hatchlings for up to a year.

There is some debate over whether Slavic dragon lost the ability to fly independently from the ancestors of lindworms. They are heavily built beasts well adapted to the colder climates of northern Eurasia. Their bearded faces and deep, hollow cries have inspired countless tales of monstrous creatures over millennia. Males bellow and snort hot steam high into the sky as challenges to rivals. They fight with their forelimbs, lashing them out to deal devastating blows to the faces of opponents and intruders alike, which likely became basis for the supposed 3 headed dragons of mythology. However, their limited contact with humans have dwindled with their numbers over the years due to poaching and habitat destruction. Like bears, they are omnivores, but unlike bears, prefer to give a wide berth to human settlements, limiting their pool of resources even further.


I love CT & his accent.

“All I do is smaaash heads, bro.”

  • Bard: I sing a song to inspire them to fight harder.
  • Wizard: Sing somethings inspring!
  • Bard: ...*singing* Rising up, back on the street.
  • *nobleman joins*
  • Both: *singing* Did my time, took my chances.
  • Nobleman: *singing* Went the distance now I'm back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survive.
  • Group: *Singing* Its the eye of the tiger its the thrill of the fight. Rising up to the challenge of our rival!
  • DM: What is happening?
  • Bard: I'm inspiring them!

anonymous asked:

Hartwin from the eyes of Daisy, Roxy, Merlin and Charlie...

I PROMISE I DIDN’T JUST STOP DOING THESE. I just got stupid busy with work, class, and too many rehearsals.


Merlin had known Harry Hart for years. They’d met in their first year of uni and had … not always been friends, if he were honest They had been rivals, challenging each other to do better, and by the time they’d graduated they were indeed the closest of friends. They’d been together through everything—good grades, poor grades, hangovers, crushes, and despite the fact that Harry Hart was a fucking showboating overdramatic peacock, he was a true friend.

They were recruited together for Kingsman, to take the place of the recently-lost Galahad. As always, they pushed each other to be better and promised not to hurt each other in their quest for the title.

In the end, Harry Hart became Galahad, and Merlin … well, the only reason he lost out was he’d pulled the trigger a half second after his friend had done. Arthur hadn’t wanted to lose him, and after reviewing their scores throughout the past months it was decided Merlin would train for tech and run point on missions. He’d still use the skills he’d mastered alongside Harry, and there would be times he would be called into the field as well, though his exemplary scores with computers meant he would be better put to use keeping the brasher agents alive.

Merlin knew the only reason he went bald is that he ripped it out keeping Harry from doing anything too stupid for so many years. Unfortunately, Harry was a well of stupid ideas and Merlin refused to take credit for any of the scars Harry’d earned by not listening.

He knew Harry better than he knew himself at this point, thirty-five years into their friendship.

So when Harry brought in Lee Unwin’s son as a candidate, he was instantly suspicious of his friend’s motives. There were plenty of other suitable candidates that wouldn’t have caused Arthur to look so disgusted—though that was likely the initial appeal of bringing in someone from such a different walk of life.

When he was hurt after Professor Arnold exploded on him, Eggsy was there, and Merlin kept an eye on him. There was no reason for him to spend so much time there; nor was it going to help him get through

Then he noticed the smiles. The lingering looks. The fact that Harry’s computer alerted him every time Eggsy’s file was accessed—and it was often.  Harry was pulling up the videos of Eggsy completing his training. Harry deflected, of course; he’d always been a master at avoiding topics he wanted to.

Merlin had spent many years watching and learning about the people with whom he worked, and so when he saw the way Eggsy looked at his mentor, he knew there was something there. Until Kentucky, however, he was sure it was just a bit of hero worship or some misplaced father issues over losing Lee at such a young age.

But the tears in his eyes as he clung to Harry after Kentucky, the way Harry’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly, Merlin realised he had it all wrong.

This wasn’t just a passing fancy. This wasn’t familial affection, or hormones, or Harry thinking with his dick. This was real.

He caught up with Harry alone after a while, waiting for the right moment to speak with him. “He loves you, too,” he said, and Harry’s cheeks pinked a bit. “I expect to be the best man at your wedding, Harry.”

“Of course you’ll be my best man. I wouldn’t have lived long enough to have a wedding without you!”

Merlin only smiled wider; Harry was already speaking as though it was a certainty.

“You might want to let your young man in on your plans for the rest of his life, then,” Merlin replied, sipping his tea.

He was sure Eggsy would be completely enthusiastic about anything Harry suggested, after all.


It was favouritism, that’s what it was.

The pleb was putting out. That’s how he’d managed to make it so far in training.

Charlie had had his suspicions from day one about why Eggsy had even been let in the door. His clothes were too tight, too common, too low-class for the ranks of Kingsman. Clearly the only reason he was there was that he was buggering at least one among their number.

But if he were being totally honest in a way he’d never admit out loud, for a pleb, he wasn’t completely unskilled. He still reeked of cheap drugs and boosted liquor, though, and nothing could wash that stench away.

It only made sense that Eggsy made friends with the girl. They probably both liked taking it from older men.

But Charlie knew better. He was there from skill. He had been bred to be the best, a champion among lesser mortals. A purebred among the mongrels with whom he was forced to interact. A Kingsman agent trapped with a group of losers.

But when he fucking lost, he couldn’t believe it. The girl and Eggsy, better than him?

Fuck that.

His father did hear about it, in great detail. And he was promised a way back in.

After V-Day, after things had been sorted and the bodies buried, Charlie went to the shop, contrite—or as contrite as he could be, given that he wasn’t a single bit sorry he’d opted to save his own skin. He gave them a sob story about how alone he was now that his family were dead, lost during the raid on Valentine’s compound, their colourfully exploding heads haunting his nightmares.

“I ain’t buyin’ it,” a voice said, and Charlie glanced back from where he’d been talking to Merlin. They were supposed to be alone, but that was definitely Eggsy in a Kingsman suit, and Galahad beside him, leaning heavily on a cane. Given what he knew the man had gone through—Valentine and his girl had been positively gleeful to tell him of the agency’s loss—that part wasn’t a surprise.

The way Eggsy’s hand curled around the other man’s bicep, signet glinting from the shadows, that was a shock.

“Nor am I,” Merlin said. “Charlie, you were dismissed, and you still are. Get out.”

And so he stood, passing beside the scum that had usurped his place with only a short pause.

“Knew you had to be fucking someone to have made it this far.”

He only regretted it when he felt the fist connecting with the back of his skull.


From the moment she introduced herself to him, Roxy knew that she and Eggsy would be the best of friends. He was a good person, she could tell, and smarter than he let on. She’d always been able to read people easily.

She was glad her hunch was right, though; she’d not have made it as far as she had without him beside her. Nor would he without her; they challenged each other to be better and to improve, their weaknesses transforming little by little into strengths over the course of their training.

And though only one of them would get the position of Lancelot, Roxy didn’t find herself wanting Eggsy to lose any more than she herself wanted to lose. He’d told her of his family and what this opportunity meant to him. He confided in her how his proposer had found him, and she saw the way his eyes softened as he spoke of him.

There was something there, in how he felt for his mentor, that went beyond the norm. There were days that she wouldn’t see him at all until he came sneaking back from the hospital wing, and Eggsy would brush off her questions each time. She hadn’t been proposed because she was just a pretty face, after all, and she had a plan to make.

She’d been excellent at tracking, and she would follow him. If he caught her, she’d explain that she was looking for either her mentor or Merlin, depending on how recently they’d seen the latter. And regardless, she’d keep at it until she saw where it was he kept disappearing to.

Her plan, as it turned out, worked perfectly. Eggsy didn’t seem to notice he was being followed, or perhaps he didn’t care as he slipped into one of the rooms reserved for injured agents.

She stepped up to the door, looking in through the small window. There Eggsy was, sitting in a plush chair pulled right up next to the bed, fingertips barely brushing against the man in bed’s own hand. That wasn’t the sort of touch one gave to family, and the fond look in his eyes, like the man in the bed meant everything to him, that was too open, too strong, to be anything but love.

Roxy never questioned Eggsy about it again after that, but she watched him carefully. How one day, Merlin pulled him aside and he very nearly ran from the room. How after that he was a lot happier and didn’t sneak off so often.

It was definitely love, then. He wanted to be good enough for Galahad.

After he failed the dog test (and gave her an earful about shooting her fucking dog what the fuck Rox?!) and losing Galahad, she knew he would take the title. It was only fitting, and he would take it and do his best to live up to the name.

And he did, starting a wall of headlines after carefully pulling down the former Galahad’s pages and packing them away.

Eggsy got by all right after that, but there was a sadness in his eyes, different than the one they’d held during training. Most people probably didn’t even realise it, but Roxy knew Eggsy too well, and why he seemed so haunted. His family didn’t seem to notice; then again, they’d not seen him throughout training, and it was a bit disheartening to think that his own blood had never seen him truly happy before.

The day they found out Harry was still alive was a revelation. Eggsy cried on Roxy’s shoulder, and she held him after Merlin politely left the room to give him some space. As close as Merlin had been to Harry, it made sense that he’d seen how Eggsy felt—had known how Harry felt, perhaps? She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because once the plane carrying Harry landed Eggsy was off, racing through headquarters to the hangar and barely waiting for Harry to get down the steps before he was hugging him, muttering something Roxy couldn’t hear but that made Harry smile fondly, running shaking fingers through the young man’s hair. Every touch was careful and deliberate between them, more than that of a platonic relationship. When Eggsy hesitated, Harry swept in and kissed the younger man’s lips, and Merlin and Roxy shared a soft smile.

That was love, and Roxy was glad Eggsy had found it.


Daisy knew that something was different between Eggsy and Mr. Hart right around her seventh birthday. Sure, Mr. Hart had been around a long time, and he was always really nice to her and Mummy, but it took her a long time to realise that he was more than nice to her brother. He hugged them all, but his fingers lingered on Eggsy’s shoulder much longer than with anyone else’s. It was subtle, but there, and it only bothered her because she couldn’t quite figure it out on her own.

Mummy told her Eggsy and Mr. Hart were just very good friends. That wasn’t right, though; Daisy had good friends of her own but she never looked at Jenna Smith with soppy cow eyes like that.

She tried to ask Eggsy about it, about why Mr. Hart watched him so fondly, like how Mummy’s new boyfriend looked at her, but he’d gone a bit red and told her she was seeing things.

She wasn’t seeing things. She knew there was something there. Eggsy was happier when Mr. Hart was around. At night, sometime she could hear the on the phone together, voices low so even with her ear pressed to the wall she could only pick up a few words and a bit of laughter. When they were out together, Eggsy picked things up for Mr. Hart, and Eggsy said he only ever spoiled his family.

So that meant Mr. Hart was family, except Mummy didn’t seem very put out by any of it. She seemed pleased as punch when Mr. Hart was around and even made him fancy Sunday roasts when he came to dinner. Daisy kind of remembered how Mummy had disliked Mr. Hart at first, after they’d moved away from her Daddy.

Mummy knew more than she let on.

But Daisy liked Mr. Hart a lot, so she tried not to think too hard about how even when Eggsy wasn’t away doing his tailor stuff he was with Mr. Hart and not with her. He didn’t treat her like a baby, and even took her out to museums and the zoo and movies so she could learn new things, and he was better at playing knights than anyone.

“Are you gonna marry Eggsy?” Daisy asked Mr. Hart one day, when he was taking care of her so Mummy could go to work, and Eggsy was on a business trip to fit some old rich guy with a new suit in India.


“You like Eggsy lots. You treat him specialler’n anyone. An’ you give him stuff like Mummy’s boyfriend gives her, but only things Eggsy likes. An’ you come to dinner an’ you don’t gotta.”

Mr. Hart looked a bit shocked, but his expression was mostly soft and fond, once Daisy began talking. “Well, you’re a perceptive girl. Promise me you’ll keep it a secret?” he asked her, and Daisy bounced excitedly, nodding. She could keep secrets! Mr. Hart leaned closer, though they were in his house with the butterfly walls and nobody else was around. “I’ve already asked your mum permission to marry Eggsy. And if you’re all right with it, I—”

“I’m okay with it! Eggsy’s mad for you! Can we still play once you’s married? An’ you’ll still come to dinner, right? Mummy only ever makes cream puffs when you’re there!”

Harry laughed. “I promise we’ll still come to dinner,” he assured her. “Not much will change.”

Daisy smiled wide. She’d been right about Mr. Hart and her brother, and she was happy about it.

I’ll still be taking prompts, but holy shit life’s kicking my ass and they’re definitely slooooooooooooow as hell now.