#character tag: runt

[ollylotl]

did someone say interdimensional sleepover?

JRWI fluff week - day three - slumber party! @justfluffwithit

[teehee-vibes]

Hi guys. I’m behind on JRWI-Tober. Here’s my progress so far.

1) Riptide

2) Fave PC

3) Fave NPC

4) Campaign swap

[dustyhyena]

HERE IT IS!!! my piece for @agentshipzine ! it's been a work in progress for such a long time and im vibrating out of my skin now that im able to officially show it off!!!

i thought it'd be fun to do a little side-by-side comic for my agent 3/captain (august) and agent 8 (jay) as they spend their lives together! be sure to zoom in to properly read the comc and all the little details!!!

BIG thank you to tari and rebi for making this possible- this is the second ever zine i've been in and it was such a fun experience. love yall!!!

[bunny--pop]

Runt!!!! [I wanna thank @spookeri for letting me use him for this comic lysm bestie]

[goblin-enjoyer]

Ok polls done! Thank you all for participating, i know i couldn't get every character in here but this should help me mental order a few things and get the gears turning and irons in the fire. Now it should be much easier and-

oh. that complicates things a bit. oh well its 3 am, lets get my gears in that fire and turn those irons around! Quick Poll 2! Electric Boogaloo.

second verse same as the first. I'm trying to draw all the "main" homestuck characters with another random character from something else, ran into a mental brick wall, too many options for my 8-ball that i bought for specifically this reason,made a rough poll to help get my brain a rolling, that's where you gits come in, have fun. other arts in my art tag, my descent into madness/denial of various things homestuck has caused me to think about/homestuck specific art in my homestuck tag.

ah crabp have not drawn in a bit, trying to be more consistent so I get less skill falloff (i swear what is this, the high warlord grind? def need this to be patched) can't figure out what homestuck git to draw next (i am trying to draw all the homestuck gits, well most of em at least) and i keep coming up against a wall. (i can't think of which one to do next) so i make quicke poll (at probably too late a time for it to do anything, thus likely getting me nowhere in my stuckness. i mean i have a 8 ball specifically for this kind of thing so if push comes to shove i'll just use that) to make decisions easier and get juices flowing (parentheses)

there we go this should help me get an order and thought on things. thanks in advance to all who help out here and if you are wondering "hey what kinda art this git do?" then just checkout my art tag (or i guess homestuck tag if you want to see my descent to madness lolbk) I have been trying to do all the homestuck "main" characters with random other characters. been fun and useful in learning how to draw humanoids. that and homestuck characters are just fun to draw at times don't even need a parenthesis for that.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

TLOVM, Group Dynamics and Theming

One thing about TLOVM that I’ve seen CR fans bothered by is that the Vox Machina of the show is more tight-knit co-workers than a family.

Here’s the thing: in the stream, aren't Vox Machina more tight-knit co-workers than family?

Most of Vox Machina are oil and water. They don’t blend. They’re individual archetypes: the box in the basement full of old action figures from different TV shows.

Does that mean the stream didn't have incredible gags and heartfelt talks between various pairs in the group? Nope. Does that mean at the end of the Campaign we didn't get a group of people willing to literally go to hell and back for each other? Also nope.

Just...well...did they have the varied yet consistent character dynamics that later groups did? At the very least, to the same degree?

Scanlan and Keyleth would absolutely die for each other...but what would they talk about?

On that score, TLOVM isn't that disloyal to the original.

And that's not a knock on Vox Machina or their campaign! It’s just how Critical Role has evolved. What did the stream have going into Campaign 2 that it didn’t beforehand? Hindsight, which let them build the Nein (and later the Hells) differently. It let the players mold their characters—and Matt his story—around a cohesive theme.

Something Campaign 1—as great as it was—didn’t start with.

However, going into TLOVM, the CRew had hindsight, didn’t they? Couldn’t they have found commonalities between characters and built Animated Vox Machina around a theme like CR did with their successors? And then use that to integrate a wider range of interparty interactions?

I’m an unprofessional doofus operating far away from the pressures, time constraints, and demands of professional scriptwriting…. but I’ll take a crack at it:

Becoming the Mask, You Are Better Than You Think You Are, and Dare to be Badass.

(Light spoilers for TLOVM from here on out.)

Concept: we meet our protagonists right after they’ve saved Uriel and defeated the Glabrazu. The show builds VM up to be these strong, competent, heroic, unparalleled heroes who just saved the kingdom. But as soon as VM’s alone…

“They think we’re heroes!! We just stumbled ass backward into all this by accident! The fuck do we do now!?”

(Basically, take the Rocks Fall Everyone Dies sequence from the start of the first episode, apply it nonlethally to VM and draw it out a little more.)

What they hear from this point on: “The Briarwoods are evil? Well, surely heroes such as you can put a stop to whatever wickedness they’re committing, right?” And then later: “You saved the kingdom and defeated the Briarwoods; surely you can take care of these four dragons, right?”

The overall story: a gaggle of rag-tag fuckups who are mistaken for heroes must keep pretending to be the real thing, and in the process become the real thing.

Go full The Road to El Dorado in this bitch.

Imposter syndrome and perceived inadequacy work beautifully as a common thread for multiple members:

Percy was never supposed to lead.

Vex and Vax are considered mistakes.

Pike’s family has an unsavory past.

Grog was the runt that was left for dead.

Keyleth’s trying to pass the test her mother failed.

Scanlan is the odd one out, bursting with almost undeserved bravado… until Kaylie shows up. Then it’s a question of, can this gnome, who’s only ever been good at putting on a show, learn emotional sincerity?

No matter how disparate the members of Vox Machina may be, what does this guarantee? That they all have one thing in common. They all come from vastly different backgrounds and have vastly different perspectives, but what can they all commiserate over?

Not feeling good enough.

This, in turn, makes it easier to bring in gags from the stream and build on less prominent intergroup relationships.

And this was the Nein’s advantage. As crazily different as each member was, what did they have in common? They all struggled with identity and self-image. This allowed them to form sub-groups that had unique dynamics distinct from the Nein's overall group dynamic. Character pairs could bond over that commonality.

What do we get, taking this tack with the show? We don't just give Vox Machina that same advantage, we give it from the opposite angle. TLOVM’s story is now about living up to heroic expectations to Become The Mask. This is a fabulous lead into a potential Nein series, because their story is about dropping the mask and Being Yourself.

What does this do? As both series come out, it highlights the contrast between groups and makes for a real one-two-punch.

And as a nice little bonus...

This could've brought in some real-life subtext. A joy unique to Campaign 1 is watching the cast look around at each other throughout and go “Holy shit, we can go that hard?”

Marisha’s tree dream, Taliesin’s No Mercy Percy, Liam’s speech when Vax was at the mercy of the Briarwoods…all these moments and more had everyone at the table speechless, picking up on their potential; starting to imagine how hard they could go with these characters.

And the idea of Vox Machina themselves learning to take that same leap of faith, I feel, would’ve been really cool.

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam's tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it.

- "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Johnny cade for the "give me a character" thingy cuz I love him :3

How I feel about this character

  I love Johnny, man. Very simple feelings ‘bout him, but yk, I love him. I don’t often…spin him ‘round in my brain like I do with some of the others, but I have a lot of strong opinions abt him and I love him lol

All the people I ship romantically with this character

  I occasionally ship him with Dally, but only occasionally. Idk they’ve got something goin on but idk what lol. I definitely don’t see them as an older brother and little brother, although I get where people are coming from- idk though, that’s like the least interesting take on their whole…deal for me I guess? I (personally) don’t think Dally and Johnny are brotherly/parental at all, and reducing them to that means losing out on the much more interesting (I think) dynamic that they do have- like Dally can’t be vulnerable with anyone BUT Johnny, and Johnny is at his most confident with Dally. And he has power over Dally that no one else does. It could be romantic or platonic for me, but the important thing is that they’re equals imo. I mean c’mon, only one of them’s canonically stabbed a guy to death, and it ain’t Dally. They’re tied together somehow idk man

  I sorta like the idea of Johnny and Sylvia being something tho. I don't think abt it much, but it adds something morally bad to a character that’s supposed to be purely good that I find fascinating. Not the sorta ship I ship per se, but one I like toying with sometimes because there’s so much to unpack there ig. I don’t usually see it as canon but I sometimes like it.

  Finally, I read this GUT WRENCHING fic one time where Johnny was who Sandy cheated on Soda with. I…really liked that fic. The ship hits a lotta the same notes as Johnny/Sylvia but explores Johnny and Soda…idk man again not the sorta thing I usually see as canon but holy shit the fic kinda blew my mind lol. It’s here if y’all wanna check it out- mind the tags and all. It’s a rarepair but it KILLS me man. It ain’t…canon to me, but I think abt it sometimes (the ship and the fic) and just feel things idk. (Part of that is probably b/c I love Soda, but yk)

My non-romantic OTP for this character

  Uhh Dally also honestly

  I mean Johnny and Pony are close too, but I really don’t see them as BEST friends. Ik a lotta people do which is perfectly valid, but in my head they’re…not? I dunno. They’re definitely friends, but TO ME it’s in the way that I’m friends with kids who I’ve grown up with who are like cousins to me now- we’re close, and I know they have my back, and I could tell them anything if I really wanted to, but I probably won’t unless we’re alone together in a church for a week. (@veggiesforpresident just talked abt them earlier today here, and she put it into words a helluva lot better than I am rn- definitely check that out)

My unpopular opinion about this character

He’s tough. I mean everyone knows that, but I’m not massively fond of fics/art that portray him as small and soft. Like sure, Pony sees him that way, but to the rest of the world Johnny is a hood. He may be small, but he can fight. He loves drag races, man!

  Idk, Ralph Macchio put it best in this behind the scenes book I own: 

  ���Johnny was always described as the runt of the greaser litter- the one they all protected. However, as the story unfolded he became the most level-headed and clear-minded in the face of adversity. I always recognized that in him even from the first reading of the book at age twelve. I am biased, but he is one of the richest and fully drawn characters in the ensemble.”

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

  I’m biased b/c I love Soda but I woulda loved to see him hanging with Soda. Really the rest of the gang in general (not that there was time for that lol), but it’s canon to me that Johnny was friends with Soda first. Eventually they diverged and became close to Dally and Steve respectively, but in elementary school it was Johnny and Soda. 

  (On the other side of the coin, I like the idea of Dally and Steve having had a bit of a fling that they don’t talk about as a way of repressing their romantic feelings for Soda and Johnny respectively. But that’s not always canon to me lol.)

[frankiejay03]

KONOHA IS NOT A SMALL VILLAGE

Someone else touched up on this but I don’t tag my reblogs so I’ll never find it but like it befuddles me that we cycle through the same ten characters and ten side characters when Konoha is a huge village like just looking at the number of shapeless Shinobi in the war arc like that population has to come from somewhere right?

Like you’re absolutely joking me if absolute max of 50 of this horde of Shinobi are from Konoha (because at the end of the day, there aren’t that many named Konoha Shinobi alive at any given time, not when compared to this picture I mean for real each block here is probably fucking 100 people wide by idk 500 people long)

(The issue here is not the “lack” of named characters cause there are certainly MANY but rather the lack of unnamed characters or the lack of space in canon for unnamed characters you know what I mean? No way Kakashi and co are the only jounins in village. No way Kakashi only had like two teammates in ANBU when really there should be an abundance of people to run missions with and ANBU isn’t genin teams, so long as the job gets done it doesn’t matter if the team members have met before or even know of each other)

And yeah part of what makes KakaObi (and SasuNaru) so devastating is their shared history but imagine KakaObi rivalry as ADULTS, whatever the opposite of meet-cute is, as Shinobi of the same village who haven’t met each other before because do you really know every single person your age in your hometown? A village THAT big, a NINJA village, does not have only one (1) ninja school (imagine living in the bottom left corner of this image, the walk to school must be so long! Idc if you ninja run, what child has the mental capacity to hop over rooftops at 7am??? Certainly not Ino-Shika-Cho!) ((clearly Kishimoto never played simulation games like Cities Skylines or Oxygen Not Included because come on! The population does not meet canon requirements and for it to do so it has to outgrow having only one school for its children!! Also it just needs more children!!!))

The math just doesn’t math

So

Someone please give me bratty genius Kakashi, unchallenged until he meets “genius of hard work” Obito all the way up as a jounin or ANBU, years his senior and determined to maintain his reign of superiority and probably failing spectacularly with added affliction of gay UST to boot

Gay propaganda aside, just imagine the world-building implications. Isolated Uchiha clan further isolated by a school being built near their clan compound, act of malice or not, their kids aren’t welcome around the others anymore. Poor Shinobi children/orphans who live in the same district going to the same school versus rich clan kids going to a different school together. Remember in your hometown when you “graduated” to middle school, kids who didn’t go to your elementary school were icky or annoying or weird or lame? (The correct term here is new or maybe different but children aren’t usually so kind at that age) But ninja elementary school! No canon middle school or higher education of any kind unfortunately but what if they pair kids from different schools into genin teams? Maybe that’s how Kakashi’s team 7 comes to be (Uchiha massacre or not, doesn’t make a difference if the Uchiha have been super isolated what with the police force and their own academy), maybe Neji is somehow worse cause he’s never actually interacted with a non-Hyuga/non-clan kid before. This can apply to Minato’s team 7 as well, prodigy clan heir from fancy clan academy Kakashi paired with the runt of the Uchiha from insular Uchiha academy and idk Rin from whichever school is closest to her civilian house. Like Konoha doesn’t have cars or buses or trains (at this time and I’ve never seen/read boruto no thank you) and there’s not much room for beasts of burden so these children are WALKING EVERYWHERE thank you very much.

Idk rant over, there was someone who explained this conundrum much better than I did but I cannot find their post :P

[thelingering]

(YES YES IT DOES (/lh)- LOLLL "he's undead usually" is the best quote I've heard this week--)

I love that your pd liveblog tag is explained as "the late great prime defenders" in your pinned loll- I feel like that implies they're dead XD

(They're not :D)

(well except for one)

LOLLLL OH DEAR YOU'RE RIGHT- notttt intended XDD

(Yippee! :D)

(ak i'm afraid /silly)

[spnangelbang]

A preview of... “Lenny & Bob's Hexcellent Adventure” 

Author: Rakizna @panthera-dei

Artist: @midnightsilver

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Featured characters: Guthrie, Original Demon Characters, Original Angel Character, Original Hellhound Character

Featured relationships: n/a

Length:  6,187 words

Tags:  Canon-typical Violence, Mild Language, Humor

Summary:  With Crowley missing and Abbadon attempting to steal power, Guthrie is keeping the kingdom together as best he can. The only way to survive is to fight dirty, and that's why he entrusts Bob, Lenny, and Gerald with a crucial mission to save Hell.

The problem?

They're idiots.

Excerpt:

The demons stood around the sheet-draped cage. Bob kicked lightly at the corner of the sheet, only to hear a low, chilling growl. “I don't think I like this plan…”

“Why not?” said Lenny. “Areli can help us track down an angel, just like we said!”

“Or it might decide to use our spleens as chew toys.”

Gerald sighed. “We don't have much choice. All right, Lenny, take off the sheet. Get him ready to go.”

Solemnly, Lenny lifted up the fabric and pulled it back, exposing the front half of the cage as well as the creature pressing itself against the bars.

Bob peered at the cage for a closer look. “Great Odin’s raven, Lenny! That's not a hellhound, that's an oversized rat with delusions of grandeur!”

“I’m inclined to agree with Bob, Lenny. This… dog doesn't look like much. If you can call it a dog at all.”

The supposed hellhound sniffed the air, watching the three demons with curiosity in his eyes. Lenny reached down to stroke his snout. “Areli is too a hellhound, and a good one! He’s just a little… y’know, small for his age.”

Bob scoffed. “Three lame-ass demons and the runt of the litter hunting for an angel. What could go wrong?”

Posting date: February 8, 2025!

[queeriouslyollie]

ACTUAL BRAINWORMS AHEAD ABOUT TROY

i like actually have SO many thoughts about troy yall dont understand. i have so much to say that i dont remember ANY OF IT TO PUT HERE.

its also been to the point that like. its all i think about. its so bad rn too bc i ran outta both my antidepressants and adhd meds (fuck pharmacies theyre all a pain in the ass omg) and so my brain is this mushy slurry of just. troy troy troy wonderlust runt troy troy blink troy. i literally could not focus at work today i had to write in my journal so that i didn't implode.

anyways after this point there are spoilers so dont read on. i woulda tagged it but this post is gonna be so rambly and full of my brainworms that i dont know if i wanna tag this at all lmao. so anyways yeah brainrot brainworms warning if you read ahead,

so yeah i have some like ideas on what troys whole deal is (besides being our [recovering :3] asshole nepo baby).

like first of all, 100% trans coded (like all of charlies characters, like wtf how is this cis guy better at being trans than i am??). please let it be canon i am begging

second, im torn between the theories of him being a little clockwork guy or being a hybrid (like runt and blink n the reclaim guys). its hard to tell what's cannon and what is troy mode comedy shit, but it seems like we may not have ever canonically? gotten a description/confirmation of what is actually under troys suit, and obviously not what may be under his skin. if he is a hybrid that could have some really fucked up connotations asw

third, whats his deal with his family? it's basically been confirmed that his mom's dead (or otherwise just OUT of the picture). his dad is around, for a bit i was SO convinced his dad was gonna be the inventor. either way, whats the deal between them? just nepo neglect? or something worse? i have a feeling either way i WILL be ugly crying. again. to jrwi. about a charlie character. and also siblings?? he said he had a brother. but then when the yort appeared he said he always wanted a brother? so maybe bad relationship there too?

also??? like his character growth?? the amount he has started to be able to convey his respect and care for the team. i love the little part about runt having an actual feeling of looking up to him when they sled down the mountain. they are so sibling coded. troy and blink's little arc was so good too (also like. malewife troy. all im saying about that). and his whole thing in ep 22, the way he was able to twist the perceptions people have of him, and even the fucked up shit he has done, to manipulate (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) his way through that situation. and the team letting him take the reigns!!!!! anyways this makes me wanna compile a list of my fave quotes/interactions/moments/etc from the campaign. i just might.

i genuinely dont know why im SO attached to this goddamn character. theoretically? i should hate him. he is like, literally antithetical to everything i am and stand for. literally a foil to who i am as a person. but like???? idk. as ive said before he's the first character ive ever understood and felt the "i can fix them" thing about lmao. and he has shown character growth,

and to me he seems. misguided? maybe even hurt? by those around him. it seems like those who should have nurtured him failed him. and like. i really empathize that. i kinda feel that a little too much (but from a different lens bc i am the furthest thing from a nepo baby lmfao). and not to psychoanalyze him (more), it seems to me that maybe deep down he thinks very lowly of himself. bro is literally prince charming but was surprised when aeon called him pretty boy?? like i mean obv, he's not the brightest guy around, but i also think he should give himself more credit where its due, and he might not appreciate his achievements enough and seems to beat himself down when he doesnt reach his own standards. he also seems very touch starved (or just. any [authentic] slightly positive interaction starved in general)

or maybe im just projecting too hard onto him oops lmao. thats the vibe i get tho

if you read all this i think youre probably just as ill as i am about this guy and like. respect. or maybe youre just bored or thought there would be something smart in here, in which case i deeply apologize for my word vomit

anyways i think im gonna go rewatch wonderlust from the start for like the fifth time. or riptide for the like 12th (god give us our funy lil pirates back!!!) because. i lobv them

[kiki-and-carmi]

Deep down.

In a laboratory.

Lies a young boy

in his cellar.

Separated from his Sister

and his DNA mangled.

This is the Story of Runt, and his sister, Ogre.

ASKS ARE CLOSED.

๑ About!! (Last updated: October 8th, 4:17pm, central time)

🍡 → This is an ask blog for the characters Kieran and Carmine from the video game Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, specifically taking place in my alternate universe, dubbed Don’t Trust Dr. Fuse.

👺 → This is an art ask blog. All art is mine unless it’s stated otherwise. Effort put into each piece may fluctuate violently. The amount of effort put into answering an ask is not an indicator for how thankful I am for you sending in asks. Every ask is very much appreciated no matter how much the effort put into the art in the answers fluctuates.

🍑 → Runt uses he/him.

🍡 → Mod Mew uses any pronouns and does not use labels.

👺 → Asks are not answered chronologically.

๑ Available for Asks!!

🍑 → As of right now: Runt is available for asks

๑ Rules!!

🍡 → 1. Nsfw asks are NOT ALLOWED.

👺 → 2. No bigotry whatsoever I literally don’t care keep that shit away from me. I’m usually okay with some slurs but not for this ask blog.

🍑 → 3. Be. Nice. Remember there is a real living breathing person behind this account. You can be mean to Runt that’s fine but not to Mod Mew. If you aren’t happy with a response you get it’s not my fault.

🍡 → 4. No asks about politics. The owner of this account is very much radical left if that’s what you call it if you’re curious.

👺 → 5. If you want something tagged then ask.

🍑 → 6. Magic anons will not affect canon!

🍡 → 7. PLEASE SPECIFY WHO YOURE SENDING THE ASK TO IF THERE ARE MULTIPLE CHARACTERS AVAILABLE FOR ASKS.

๑ DNI!

👺 → Pro isreal, antisemites, neo nazis, transphobes, transmeds, truscum, anti-mogai, terfs/swerfs, anti-endogenics, sysmeds, MAPS, homophobes, aphobes, anti contradicting labels. Anti-kink, purists.

[sagesparrow394]

Headcanons for if JRWI characters ended up on the QSMP (aka Just QSMP With it)

Continuation of this post and this post! Other posts about this AU are on my blog under the tag #just qsmp with it

I think Chip is initially resistant to cooperating with the Order and the other islanders’ resistance against the Federation. He’s too concerned with just getting his ship fixed and trying to leave the island, making that his priority over whatever is happening on the island. It’s only once it properly sets in that there is no feasible way of leaving as long as the Federation is in control that he agrees to formally join the Order. He’s the last of the Riptide pirates to do so, Jay joining pretty quickly, and Gillion being recruited by Etoiles after expressing a keen desire to help free everyone.

While Gillion helps Pomme train and teaches her fighting skills, Pomme would absolutely return the favour by teaching Gillion French. I also think it’d be funny if Gill was inexplicably really really good at picking up the language. Bro’s almost fluent after a single month, able to have full conversations with Etoiles in French as the two spar.

Jay and Jaiden definitely become friends. Is this partially because their duo name would be Bluejay and that’s too good to pass up? Maaaybe. But I can see Jaiden initially trying to befriend Jay because hey, another woman, we’ve got three now! Girls gotta stick together! (going off the idea the Riptide crew arrive before the frozen islanders are thawed). And then they just bond further over their shared experiences with loss and grief. Jaiden’s death in Purgatory hits Jay pretty hard.

Runt doesn’t get recruited to the Order, she forces her way in. She tails someone and finds the secret entrance, spies in on a meeting or two, and then confronts Cellbit like “I know you’ve got a whole resistance thing going on, and I want in.” And so, not counting the eggs, she becomes the youngest member of Ordo Theoritas. Her first action after joining is to upgrade the Order’s security systems, making it more Cucurucho-proof.

Blink is recruited by Cellbit to the Order after Cellbit learns of his sheer power of bullshitting his way into places. Blink is specifically tasked with bullshitting his way into the Federation workforce. I mean, so far the only spies in the Federation are Fit (just a janitor), Foolish (playing both sides), and Cellbit (basically just a pawn Cucurucho likes to play with). Luckily, thanks to his powers of bullshitting and the Federation’s fondness for birds, Blink successfully is able to get the position of an A-Rank worker, becoming a vital informant for the Order (rip Blink x The Overseer, Blink x Cucurucho is the new ship /j)

At the end of Purgatory, Troy doesn’t leave Egg Island, choosing to stay behind for his egg Hope. Runt tries to convince him otherwise, but Troy just screams “I CAN���T FUCKING LEAVE HER”, refusing to move. Blink drags Runt away, both heading to the boat without him. Troy ultimately joins Baghera and Cellbit as the killers of Purgatory 2, developing a closer friendship with the two of them and exploding strangers with an extra super duper cool sled provided by the Watcher. Then Hope, Pomme, Richarlyson and Philza arrive on their rescue mission. Troy can’t help but feel a little hurt Runt and Blink don’t come too, but buries those feelings deep down. I mean, what was he expecting from the guys who left him to fight 28 guards alone, right?

[ghostxrose]

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five (final)

Summary ~ Your soul and his were tied together by the hands of the Goddess of Fate. It never mattered where you were or what you were, you would always find each other. Every lifetime destined to fall in love with each other and every lifetime destined to die before you could have everything that you wanted together. With every death you questioned; were you and him really eternal soulmates or were you just star-crossed lovers meant to be laughed at by the Goddess of Fate?

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Emotional, Temporary Character Deaths, Depictions of Injuries, Potentially Triggering Content, No Use of Y/N, Hurts So Good (let me know if I should tag anything else <3)

If you tried hard enough, dug deep enough within your mind, you could still remember that very first life where you met him. You and him were brand new souls who had been freshly cast into some version of reality. The Goddess of Fate had just finished tying your soul to his when she sent you both to an Earthly plane to begin your eternal chase for each other.

Your first life hadn’t been easy and it seemed to set the premise for future lives to come. You had been born a wolf with beautiful dark fur and violet-colored eyes with cracks of piercing blue running through them, belonging to a fairly large pack. Unfortunately, and unlike the rest of the pack, you had been born weak. From the very start you were small, the runt of your littermates. Still, your mother cared for and loved you as she did with all of her pups.

As you grew, you tried to keep up with your siblings and the other pups of the pack. You tried to be strong, tried to be a good hunter, and tried to master the skills of your elders. But you lost every play fight with the other pups and you could barely successfully catch small game on your own. In the eyes of the pack, you were useless.

Your pack had been hunting one evening when you all crossed paths with another pack that had also been hunting. Growling, snarling, gnashing teeth, and howling filled the air as aggressive fighting broke out between the two packs. You fought as hard as you could but your weakness was your downfall. Your pack left you there alone and bleeding from multiple bite wounds as the chilly autumn night settled in.

That night when the moon was at its highest, he had found you at the base of a tree where you had dragged yourself. Disturbed by his sniffing and nudging nose, you startled from your slumber and weakly growled at him thinking he was a threat.

He growled back at you before going back to nudging you and licking at your wounds. You didn’t know that he was a lone wolf that had separated from his pack to try to search for his mate. You didn’t know that it was you who was his mate until somewhere in your brain, it just clicked.

You whined in pain when he nudged you a little harder in an effort to get you to stand up. You had barely been able to drag yourself to the spot where you laid, there was no way you could muster up the strength to get back up. There was more blood on the ground around and under you than there was in your body at this point. It was only a matter of time now.

Sensing that you weren't going to be getting up, he keened sadly and laid down next to you. He licked at your face as you absorbed the heat radiating off of his body. Your head rested on top of your front legs and your eyes looked up to meet crimson ones that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Your breaths were coming out as short and shallow pants and your eyelids were becoming heavier with each passing second. Lowering his head to lick your face again, your mate let out a loud and heartbroken whine. A broken keening left you as you reciprocated his heartbreak and your eyes began to slowly shut.

Before your consciousness finally left your body, you heard your mate howl loudly into the night, the sound utterly heartbroken and full of misery.

A Little Author's Note Here ~ Hello Lovelies, my name is Shasta Rose! This is my first time posting one of my fics to Tumblr so please forgive me if this post is rough or un-aesthetic! I am completely open to tips and helpful criticisms if y'all have any! I do hope that you come to enjoy the story and just know that I appreciate you! <3

Divider Credit ~ @archonfurina

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot Pt 2

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 4,760

It’s Snoggletog and you’re very, very tired. You’re definitely weird about it. So is Hiccup, but, as you’ve figured, he’s always a little weird.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse

<Previous - Next>

There were a lot of things they didn’t teach you on-screen- a lot of things you had to learn the hard way on Berk.

As it went, the warriors who were deemed the most respectable on the island lived up by the Chief’s -the ones who belonged to the families of the highest repute, who did the best in battle, who were good at keeping vows, who did the best posturing and bartering and who kept to themselves- keep ‘em close and all that.

 That’s what you heard, anyway- it was awfully convenient. All the Dragon Riders lived up by the forge. You weren’t sure why that surprised you, but eventually it kind of made sense. The Riders were the main characters, after all- the cool kids and whatnot. It annoyed you a little bit, though.

Choking down a yawn, you glanced off to the side at a carved extrusion, a norse knot embedded into its face. It  ended just as it ran into what you could only call a large porch rail with an odd-looking ball at the helm of it, a rotund mouth carved into it and two obtuse eyes mounted along one side. 

There was a chip in the wood, a long gash where part of the grain had fallen off, exposing older also-wood. You wondered how long it would take for something to crawl in it- if the burning and treating had sealed it down to the middle or if it would rot, if they would get it fixed before the next big storm, if it even mattered. 

You resisted the urge to shake out your shoulders.

You didn’t spend too much time up there, but, well, today you’d been caught. You wished you hadn’t been, but you had. By one Mrs. Thorston, in fact. 

You hadn’t all asked why she’d needed you specifically to do it, much too tired to care for anything but the call of your bed, all hay and dead grass and sometimes bug, but the busybody had carried on anyways, more than willing to go on- on and on in a way your hazy mind could hardly keep track of. It was almost unbearable. 

Though you did give in and you sighed.

First, to tend to, there was the Jorgenson clan, The Ingermans, and the Hoffersons- Of course, most important of all was the Chief, saddled with his poor runt of a sun, who was too much of a waste to keep from shirking his most important responsibilities -the ones involving caring for his father, of course- and chasing after dragons, another job of his which he’d been lacking at,and boy, what an oxymoron that was. 

She was so sure of how the burden of his son must have weighed heavily down on his father’s already bulky soul, talk of which bringing an odd blotchy puce blush to her thin face, talk of it had tired you out quite easily. If she didn’t take too kindly to you bringing up her husband- well.  

Snotlout was off and the twins were terrible, so they couldn’t do it- and by twins, she meant her daughter. Her son was missing, but he was too much of a gem for the work, anyways, and, of course, since you were there, that must have meant you were free and therefore had freely volunteered, because there were tasks that need doing doing, of course- so, of course, without the time to get a word in edgewise, she’d wrangled you into bringing water -pail by pail- to all of the clan homes, so that they could all have the luxury of hot water for laundering and bathing that night. 

That was a very long-winded way of saying that you’d just been made to bring up said water for said Chief. And his kid. Who was absent.

“What’re you here for?” The Chief asked gruffly, looking very intimidating and large. Very large- and huge.

You still hadn’t figured out how to say his name in Old Norse. Everyone else just said ‘Chief.’ It must have been a respect thing-  Still, you’d asked around and had been left with no real answers, just scandal, all upturned noses and confused, disturbed scowls, slightly turned shoulders and some distance. Which... Well, you couldn’t bring yourself to be hurt by it all, especially not in a place as crowded as Berk.

In the end, you’d decided you’d just wait for someone else to say it first.

“Water,” With shaky, sore arms, you held out a bucket. It was a flimsy one, especially heavy to you, who was a normal person with a normal amount of muscle mass, unlike everyone on this cold, godforsaken island.

You waited a very, very long moment, your arms still straining, soreness traveling up to your shoulders, pulling at your muscles and back, fingers reddening as gravity worked to cut off your circulation as if you’d just finished a trip to the grocer’s, the feeling worse than any plastic bag could ever be.

After the Chief failed to react, you slowly let your arms drop.

Your bucket swang back, the water inside arcing and sloshing, yanking against your very worn arm socket.

You pursing your lips and pointed backwards, your thumb half over your shoulder, aimed towards where you knew was the basin, the one you’d lugged up the hill, which you knew was theirs, pressing a thick indent into the grass by their house pathway because Mrs. Thorston had pointed it out with no small amount of fanfare.

You were supposed to bring it in but you’d left it there, mostly because you weren’t sure if the guy was home and you’d gotten quite the cold feet after poking around the front yard for a bit.

“That was, ah…” said the Chief, who seemed very gruff and confused and rightly so, “Very nice of you.”

You wondered if it was normal for him to be so hesitant and gruff, brows crinkled, eyes slightly bagged, old enough for all his frowns and furrows to be written in lines. If so, It seemed his interpersonal communication skills might have been somewhat lacking. If not, well, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel slighted at all- You didn’t want to be here, either.

Really, you just wanted this whole thing done and over with- you hoped the Chief did too. It hadn’t been much of a task before, but now, well, it took you a great deal to keep all your complaints bottled up inside.  Still, if you spoke, you’d have to say it all at once- you couldn’t bear to wait another moment, not so much because you were restless, moreso because you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground right then and there.

You paused for a moment longer, thinking. Mrs. Thorston- you were sure she’d given you something else, packed you full of words to carry alongside water, and yet you couldn’t quite remember which ones. Surely not all of them? Not the things she’d said about Hiccup, definitely- but then, maybe the ones about her son? Or- no, not her husband, but maybe the Chief?

Words, words- How much to say, how little to give? If giving some was bad, then giving ‘most’ must have been better. It was a dilemma that exhausted you even further. 

“Mrs. Thorston said to tell you she sent me-...” You grumbled. Much too stirred to do much thinking or stopping, you festered something breathy in your chest, rearing, your tongue leashed only just barely by the thought of conscience; a fraying, snapping thread.  “-And that she’s free at sundown, something about her husband being out, which I thought was weird-”

“Alright-” The Chief said, still looking quite grumpy. 

You continued speaking, letting, the words come to you, speaking with more just-rightness than- well, “-She wanted me to put in a good word and I’ve not been paid at all, she just talks too much to get anything else in edgewise and I just got cold feet trying to say no. Honestly, I don’t know, I’m tired and just kind of want to go now.” 

Then you turned around. As you spun, your bucket swung, and you could feel it, though you lived it more through your arm and the shift of your spine a lot more than you felt it in hand. It was almost vertigo- you dropped it quite roughly, easily, the bottom of it landing without clatter onto the surface of one large, wooden step.

You paused.

Like something slowly, slimily creeping up from your belly to your spine, you thought.

You were forgetting something- but no, you’d said all the appropriate words- and then some of your own.

For the moment, you decided to just wait, hands going from the red lines in your palms back to the face of the colossal, wide man way up high in front, seeing-not-seeing. It would come to you.

You waited a moment longer, staring and blinking. Why were you even up here at all? There was a reason, of course.

…

…Ah. You’d lost track of it before, the slightly pointy end of it barely even tapping at your leg past cloth, but-

“Wait!” You declared, turning back, feet shuffling.

The boss was halfway lumbered back into his home, his door nearly half-closed. 

He looked back down at you with a look, something exhaustive- a very strong ‘what now?’ 

“This is for your son,” You held out a crummily wrapped paper package with one arm, which was considerably less shaky now, considering the fact that this parcel was a great deal lighter, “It’s thanks for helping me out earlier, I think. Also, could you ask him to stop staring? And blowing things up. It’s getting kind of creepy. Goodbye.” 

You forced a large, strained smile. There were a handful of expressions that cycled across his face before he’d thought to respond, though now that you’d completed most of all your important tasks, you found you weren’t in the right mind to decipher them.

“...Goodbye.” The Chief said. You took that as permission to leave, arms swinging. Your legs were stiff as they walked, moving as fast as you could force them while keeping an even walking pace.

You left the bucket there.

You needed to get yourself something new- a coat, maybe, or some boots, so you didn’t have to deal with the feeling of cold ice-slush, seeping through your trousers and assaulting your now numb, ice-cold ankles.

Slogging through the snow was annoying, especially when you were living in an era pre-snowpants. Someone was going to have to salt the paths or something because this was getting ridiculous.

Where they were most frequented, in the worst parts, it was all nasty, brown and grainy, full of sheep dirt and human food-garbage- or, at least what you hoped was just human food-garbage. 

You were out of it now, the snow below your feet mostly powdered, untouched and downy and yet you could see the evidence of your previous forway staining your knees. 

You stamped your way down the path, arms full of loose, half-trailing cloth, all beiges, neutral greens and other dull colors, soles occasionally beating against slippery stone surfaces and gravel.

Nearing the end of one hut, where there was enough room to make a path, around the corner, you spied something- green eyes, dusty brown hair, a full, furry coat, a head of yellow-blonde straw hair, two magnificently polished, spiked shoulder pads and- it was Astrid, her back to you, angled just so that you could see the wide slab tray full of Yaknog she carried with both hands.

You grimaced as she turned, moving so you stayed out of her view as if you were attempting to dodge the odd gaze of a vicious dinosaur -a tyrannosaurus rex or a pterodactyl, maybe, green leather and- well, a lot of dragon things- and ran off before anyone but Hiccup could see you.

He had been ready to unload for a while, you were sure.

“I just…”  You watched as a head of dirt-brown hair buried itself into dusty, freckled hands, words spilling out of a mouth that was just out of view, worse than a wooden dam that had just been split down the side. “Toothless hasn’t-…I’m a little worried.”

It had come practically out of nowhere- you’d only just asked how he’d been, though that had been preceded by a good amount of lonesome moping on his part- he hadn’t seen you yet, then, but... With his bagged eyes and frazzled mop, you couldn’t ever be made upset by his… upset.

He looked like he was stressed… To the extreme.

You shrugged ungainly, shoulders bobbing, carving a groove of wet, snowy dirt into the ground with the scuffed toe of your boot as you turned and walked absentmindedly around the side of Hiccup.

You craned your head to a degree that felt nearly unnatural as you looked back, “I dunno, do they usually do this? I mean, I don’t remember seeing a lot of them last Snoggletog, but also I haven’t… been here that long.”

You were kind of confused- or, well, you had been last winter. You had seen a few of them buzzing around but you’d chopped that up to a fault of your own memory and not- well, whatever this was. 

After some minor deliberating, you figured the Red Death probably wouldn’t have been as much of a tyrant if it didn’t make them work through the holiday, if it -she- was considered a tyrant, that was- you weren’t an expert on the draconic mind. And boy, that must have been a bummer- birth and no child leave.

You sighed, arms tensing as a chill threatened to run down the small of your back. 

“Maybe, I mean-  I would be worried too.” You look down at your basket’s wicker borders, all knotted hay and cradled cloth, blinking with the deep desire to be left alone. You half-wondered why trouble always found you when you were doing laundry, “But also, they’re probably off having babies or something.”

“Having babies…?” You looked up just in time to catch the words as they left his mouth, brows furrowed oddly. 

You hoped you hadn’t been too on-the-nose, which was, well, a dying hope; “I mean, yeah. I guess. What else?”

It was as if attempting to breathe while coughing. You felt both an intense pressure in your sternum and an exhale of something that was probably both a yell and a wheeze, though you couldn’t hear it any more than you could feel the stringing of your vocal chords, the tail-end of some force leaving your chest like the exorcism of a demon or some full gust of air.

You felt a stiff, torso covering pain against your chest, which had been paired with quite the vertigo unlike any other you’d felt. It grew as you’d finally been able to draw in breath, feeling the sharp dipping of dull points against your stomach, the lack of land below your feet, feeling deeply the urge to writhe and kick and shout and yet your limbs, stuck immobile, stayed, your bones stuck frozen not unlike the thick feel of intensely vibrating metal, a thick mallet on a human-sized gong

Where had you been?

You remembered the wood of the ramps beneath your feet, the shifting of your weight as you leaned back slightly, mindlessly, cautiously walking, soles occasionally stuttering against slick wood, weary incase you once again fell on your aching ass. The sound of the sea rushing, crackling ice, frigid salt, a cold-burnt nose- You must have been by the stables, then.

Now, you weren’t sure what you were seeing, white mixing with it all. Your vision was both shocked to focused, in fine detail and blurred just the same.

There was something else, the feel of quickly shed dew, roughly pressed into fur, what should have been soft in texture tearing against your skin at the speeds you were going, made all the worse by the frigid chill. There was something beneath the fur, increasingly damp, something solid, flexing, slightly warm. 

You weren’t sure if that was the result of hypothermia setting in, not after so many hours out and about in the morning, rapid gales ripping the heat from your body, making your back feel as if you had just fallen into some violently-jagged-iced waters.

Perhaps in protest, something sharp and knocked into you with startled violence. You tried to resist the nearly impossible urge to struggle and wriggle and fight back- and failed dearly. Like a paper pressed to the flat of a palm, the only thing keeping you anchored to the face of the rock was the force of the wind- it was both an intense force and a finicky one. 

As the wind blasted past your ears, rendering your drums obscenely sore, you had to wonder- was this something that had happened in the show? The movies? Or not at all?

If it was, well, it had probably been too much to hope for that it would have been more comfortable… and that you wouldn’t have been involved. 

You groaned as deep as you could, back rolling over stone. 

It was uneven, something that you registered should be not so nice against the back of your skull, uneven as it was, but the tiredness buzzing against your bottommost lids, the growing fade in the corner of your consciousness- it all made it feel everso tempting.

There were no blankets here, and so you felt a measure too out in the open, bare despite your heavy layering. Still, especially with the light blocked from your eyes past the heavy feel of the meat of your arm, draped over your forehead, it was almost pleasant.

The last few hours had amounted to what was probably the worst ride of your life, spent tangled up in Meatlug’s paws, Hiccup’s leg wedged against your gut the whole time, the two of you shouting directions at each other as you tried to simultaneously hold on and figure out some bare semblance of comfort.

The landing hadn’t been too nice, either, Meatlug figuring to just drop the two of you against hard rock, leaving you unbelievably close to the edge of the cliffs. Also unbelievably close to tumbling to your death in the ocean. At least it was over now.

Unfortunately, there was no way for you to have known that, on Berk, at that exact moment in time, a very large, very meaty Gronkle would burst past, a very skinny, very scrawny Viking on its head, you stolen away with him, swept away to the dragon breeding grounds, shouting and screaming for your life.

“...You were right.” You heard Hiccup say quite openly as you shifted your shoulders, which did little more than adjust the fabric draped over your shoulders, though that was all you needed. 

Hiccup had already gotten to his feet, it seemed, and, by the sounds of it, had begun looking awed-ly around him at all the dragons and their nests, the crowing and churr-ing and caw-ing white noise to your tired ears.

 You turned over onto your side, hoping maybe to catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

The air felt thick and the corners of your eyes were blurry as if you’d just been drawn into-... something.

Hiccup gave you what you could only call a smile as he tried and failed to look… Normal? His brows were oddly cinched, lips pulled back in the most awkward way, teeth bared oddly. 

His elbow rested against the edge of a heavily singed, nearly completely burnt-to-black fence post. Some part of it must have been burning still, small tufts of smoke rising and mixing with the wind just behind his elbow, small bits of wood coming off in flakes and chunks along the side. His pupils were twitching back and forth as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to pay attention to you or figure out what was going on with his elbow, whose sleeve was beginning to darken oddly.

You blinked tiredly, feeling quite limp as you stood watching with loose arms.

You were nearly certain you’d collapsed and were having some sort of fever dream. Quite honestly, you weren’t sure what was real or not anymore. With Snoggletog just around the bend, you’d been pulled left and right, putting things up, herding, mending, working overtime. 

His face dropped and he startled, frantically patting at his sleeves, stumbling backwards until he fell back over the still swaying tail of his dragon, who was still quite violently trying to kill another- it was nearly murder, the way he glared, clearly off kilter, throat undulating and flashing oddly through skin as he shot plasma at the larger beast. It was like watching a drunk try to shoot a duck. 

You shuffled slightly, boots feeling stiff in the snow.

Everything behind him was a little bit on fire. It was  a bit… You rubbed your eyes, with the edge of your sleeve, grasping it in your fist as you brought it up to your face. 

It was as if the dragon raids had returned, except… in the day, and it was merely only two causing most of the ruckus.

“Thanks.” You said, with a slight rasp to your voice, feeling quite confused. 

“Happy to help.” Hiccup gave you a shaky thumbs up from where he lay on the ground before grunting pitifully as Toothless, in his distraction, sat down heavily on his chest.

You tapped your fingers, tracing them against a smooth and slightly pointed shining purple and dotted magenta, hard keratin feeling both dry and dusty.

Below you, the sounds of hundreds of baby dragons crowed and cooed and cawed, jumping and fumbling around the deck of an old wrecked ship, held up by the ends of many topes grasped by a whole entourage of Berk’s dragons.

You pursed your lips together as you resisted the urge to whistle- it’d be quite difficult at this height with the wind forcing back your words and blowning your breath back at you.

The dragon you were riding, a self-important purple Nightmare, flew closely to Hiccup on Hookfang, slowly bobbing up and down through the sky with the beast of its wings, giving way to a feeling similar to that of a carousel, the way it felt to sit mounted on plastic saddle, swaying with the rhythmic bobbing of machinery, colorful lights and jaunty mechanical music.

You also fought the urge to shift, to adjust yourself and risk unbalance- with the way the scale was rubbing against your thicks, you were sure you were starting to get saddle rash, even though you two were going saddleless.

“How come your pen’s empty?” You shouted quite suddenly, sound patchy under gale and air. Immediately after, you regretted your decision. 

You were sure Hiccup probably hadn’t even heard you, but the situation was becoming quite awkward and you found it hard to resist. You needed no extra help to make it that way- that was to say, it was still kind of tense between the two of you. 

After some odd dream or a memory with Hiccup in it, you weren’t quite sure, you’d woke up to quite a similar reality. You were sure he’d assumed you were dead, with the way he’d been shaking your shoulder- and at the moment, you’d rather be, if you were going to be frank. 

You were still quite embarrassed.

Hiccup also hadn’t found Toothless yet, which was a bummer. He’d probably show up later.

“What?” Hiccup shouted back. This was so awkward. You could have been sleeping by now if you hadn’t been dragon kidnapped. Or was it dragon-napped? You weren’t a dragon, but you ‘d been kidnapped by one, though the word didn’t really have the same feel to it, saying it all out loud.

“Yeah, you have that pen near your house?” You tried again, ”I don’t know, I always see it empty. I kind of always keep expecting something to be in there and I don’t know why.”

 You almost regretted not sitting behind Hiccup. He’d offered, earlier, except he’d seemed pretty nervous about it, which made you uncomfortable.

Proceeding a heart grumble, your dragon began to jostle slightly, drifting a tad closer to Hiccup and Hookfang.

Your stomach swooped lightly as it did.

 Maybe it was being considerate- or maybe it was because of the close quarters, the way he had to squeeze between the others to keep ahold of his portion of the boat- it didn’t do much to change your trajectory, anyhow. 

You might have been slightly guilty in that you had positioned your dragon quite the ways away from Hiccup on purpose, your spoken word an accidental given permission to take the room you’d so eagerly sacrificed in the name of sanctity. 

“Oh, Right,” He sighed in a fake way with his mouth closed, looking in the opposite direction, “It’s more of an honor thing, I think. We were always too high up to have any sheep or anything -the higher they are, the easier they’re… Stolen, but- it just felt right to have it, since my Dad’s, uh, Chief.”

He coughed that last bit oddly.

“Huh,” You leaned against your dragon's neck, propping your head up with one elbow as you struggled not to nod off mid-air, “Have you ever thought of starting a garden or something? The space is open now. It would be nice.”

“Uh,  I dunno. Maybe.” He said. You pinched yourself as you two settled back into awkward silence, your shoulders threatening to bob. It wouldn't due to fall off, especially not at this height.

You guessed he hadn’t had the time, or Stoick had forgotten to give it to him earlier, which was a bummer. You’d spent a lot of time on it. Or you hadn’t. You were too tired to think.

“Hiccup,” Stoick scolded gently- or as gently as he could, with a voice as rough as his. He was more urging if not a tad gruff, loud enough to be easily heard over the sound of manly Viking chatter and holiday merry.

He towered above his son, though not in a way that was menacing, the lines of his face not so hard in that moment. The warm feel of lantern and torch light was soft against his skin, the gentle feel of cool shadow rounding his edges. 

“You made this for me?” Hiccup asked, some freckles becoming quite invisible against the growing blotchiness in his face, embarrassed red patches bleeding over skin as he pulled open the little brown paper package, prodding at it with slightly boxy, freckled fingers.

It wasn’t that bad, was it? You let your head fall to the side slightly, still feeling quite drowsy. …Whatever.

You’d made quite the effort, carving out a small box with clumsy fingers and a dull knife.  Inside, you’d included a very sketchy portrait of Hiccup. Portraiture was a big deal here- you’d figured it a little while ago. You were quite proud of your work, and perhaps a tad cocky- you knew it was much better than Bucket's, even if it was a tad cartoony. 

You might have even been brash enough to call it the best, though to be quite frank, the Vikings here weren’t at all artistically talented, so it wasn’t too hard of a position to achieve.

“T-thanks?” Hiccup managed to cough out, stumbling forward by one squeaky foot, shoulders jerking as he received a very hearty, congratulatory slap on the back. 

“Ough,” You grunted as he dropped backwards, landing roughly along the side of a thin bench, one of the many lining the long dining tables in the Great Hall. 

 “Yeah…” You said after a long moment of shuffling and clumsy maneuvering so that your arms lay on top of the nearest table’s surface, dropping your head, “No problem.”

 You turned your head, doing a sort of pathetic roll off the side of the table, laying flat against the bench.

Your cheek pressed deeply against the crux of your elbow, face aimed towards the dark underbelly of shadow under the wooden tabletop, in a way that allowed you to hear the shuffling of the boots of the people around you quite intensely, though your ears were most definitely deaf to that and the loud yelling and cheering of your peers.

You were dead set on taking your very well earned, very long, very nice nap.