#character tag: runt

[trialbyfire-comic]

Chapter 1: Page 8

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[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

[muppenthings]

Alright some more character design fusions. I'm on a roll!

First one is Merry and Runt. Second is Tide and Cetus.

Because Merry and Tide refuse to be separated even if fused, I imagine these two would be in the same universe! :)

[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!!!

[mullet--head]

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

[azol-otl]

trick 🛹 or treat 🍬

This has a load of headcanon's that have about as much basis in canon as most fanon and is yet, not very fanon at all cause it's just normal teenager things. Hope you enjoy!

"So how old does everyone think they are?" says the familiar, yet foreign voice of Dick as its normal steadiness is broken by a crack that has everyone cringe at the intensity of. It's times like this that really highlight the age difference between all of them against Dick. Even Jason, the one here who's arguably known Dick the longest (not that the handful of times he saw Dick at ages thirteen and fourteen amount to much), only knew about "Pizza Face Grayson" after Barbie had shown him blackmail pictures after Dick lied to Jason about never having mask acne. It's actually a little...gross how much concealer Dick has slathered on his face. Not that it does much. Jason knows the hassle of acne showing up in your later teens, but even his worst is nothing compared to the miscolored bumpy texture Dick has that's only dripping off from all the sweat. Like he hasn't found the right way to hide them that he had once Jason was brought into the fold years later. Alongside Dick's little mustache, less pronounced than Damian's but more than enough to be seen in photos, it's a pretty validating to have everyone witness the truth that Dick has spent the last twelve years erasing, like his time between ages 12-20 were perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect face instead of the truth has been for nothing because Jason can see Stephanie and Damian sneaking photos when Dick isn't looking. "I'm definitely twelve, I can recognize these disaster bangs anywhere," Stephanie pipes up, flicking her uneven, jagged yet boxy bangs. Like she had cut them herself with dry hair, kitchen shears, and a bowl. Jason takes in himself. Being shorter than everyone present means nothing considering he didn't even hit five feet until shortly before he died. The braces in his mouth signify he's been taken in by Bruce so that leaves anywhere between late twelve and mid fourteen. But the rubber-bands mean that he's more likely early to mid thirteen. "Twelve," he bites out instead. Jason has zero clue if he's early thirteen Jason who has a lisp from hell, or mid late thirteen Jason who can speak like an actual person and not the stereotypical nerd. Either way he isn't taking any chances at them learning about 'Jathon Thodd', it was bad enough about them finding out about 'Todd the twink'. And if Jason and Stephanie are around the same age, that means... "Right before my twelfth birthday," comes the terse reply from Tim. Right, nobody had known Tim at that age, so nobody had known he had used to be so...rotund. Taller than Jason but shorter than Stephanie. His hair was cut spiky, like he was trying to mimic some anime character which pronounced his full cheeks and second chin. He's been crossing his arms the entire time, which has only emphasized how big and soft his chest, arms, and torso are. "That's pretty specific Drake," drawls Damian, the only one who has stayed the same age, "was it right before your parents sent you to fat camp?" Oof, low blow from Damian but expected. What wasn't expected was Tim's bitten off, "Yes."

[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.

[azulsluver]

Hey hi hello!!! I hope you're having a nice day today! If it's not a bother, I'll be leaving a request for your bully!au. Maybe with a reader who's a hot head? Like, the moment they start acting up, readers already in their face asking questions like "why the fuck are you being such a dick?" Normally, reader could conceal this if it was the normal twst, but the moment the twst guys start slipping, reader is already confronting them on why they are being such assholes. You know how narancia from jjba acts like when he's stressed or mad? Yeah exactly like that! Pulling out the knife out too. Reader doesn't care about their reputation, so they wouldn't care less if they were threatened by that. I love your writing too!!! I always look forward to it when I open Tumblr. Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!!

This is not gonna end well…BUT THANK YOU BEST COMPLIMENT OF THE BLOG!!! <333

Buncha rambles, dunno where this was gonna lead so sorry if this isn’t what you wanted 😅

tw. yandere, bully!characters, mentions of stabbing/murder, manipulative!reader for the win 🏆

No one is gonna side with you. The bystanders do absolutely nothing till this point, reputation is very important and they don’t want it being dirty with yours (lmao ironic). Besides people like Lilia, Malleus, and Jade—they find your “hot-headed” personality attractive.

You’ll get picked on more yes, these students are much stronger than you by far, but you wouldn’t go down without them having a piece of your mind. Calling out on their schemes will make some embarrass— Cater, Ace, Epel. Others will be more aggressive or try to turn the situation around and blame you for overreacting.

Pulling a stunt as trying to knife one of them? May be successful if I’m honest. Depends on who you choose to do so, you won’t be alone in a group of two, they’ll always be another watching or tagging along. They’ll keep in mind to not let you be near any sharp or heavy objects, you clearly can’t handle being by yourself.

I can see a hot-headed reader making it far for themselves and not fall too deep into the victim pit. Standing up for yourself is already hard enough, you’re going against people who are training to become said mages. But at the end of the day everyone is still human no matter how cruel they are. They aren’t bullet proof nor emotionless. Get them to hurt, physically or mentally, with their guard down you can successfully have them under your thumb.

Reader who butts in first and steps up, show some respect around here. This will help you gain sympathy from bystanders and a little chance for them to befriend. That’s where Jack comes in. You’ve shown him you were worthy of helping and not just some runt who lets people walk all over them. This won’t be enough to overthrow any housewarden or powerful mage, but it’ll do.

People are not gonna enjoy your pushy and rude attitude for long, the pros and cons don’t weigh as equally. Especially when the cons lead to death.

“Oh but why don’t they get in trouble?”

Because they know how to clean up a scene and fast. Also who would believe you, a strange person who came out of the coffin when you weren’t supposed to be there. No one trusts you and won’t take your side, and since this is a bully!AU people tend to look the other way if murder is convicted. You aren’t all that important with little to no background, the perfect victim to get rid of.

And Idia gets rid of the evidence if there’s any camera involved.

You can’t just go around and stab people at random, let alone pick a fight. What you need is strategy. Be more self aware and focused, as difficult it is to talk to a brick wall, it’ll crumble if you stay long enough to experience it’s downfall. For those interested in knowing who can actually lose to a let’s say…neutral reader (fairly strong enough and a good amount of willpower), my take is on Riddle, Deuce, Ace, Azul, Jack, Epel, Rook, Vil, Idia, Malleus, and surprisingly last Sebek.

Should’ve switched the surprisingly for Rook because wow. Show them who’s boss babe, besides your cowardly counter part they are doomed if you’re more dominant. Not in a weird way lol, take the wheel of your life outta their greasy hands!

[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 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

[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?

[trialbyfire-comic]

Chapter 1: Page 9

💀Start of Comic | Start of Chapter⛓️| 💥Prev | Next🔥|

[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 OPEN.

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.

[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.

[the-black-bulls]

Hey, what do you think of the relationship between Nozel and Leo? Do you have any headcanons? What do you think Nozel views Leo as since he’s his rival/best friend’s little brother he practically watched grow up during visits and such.

Not sure if this is about the ask game, but I find it amusing that I got a general ask for non-black bulls. Not that I mind but I'd recommend searching the characters tags if you want to see more, and better, headcanons for them; you'll be pleasantly surprised at how many amazing blogs that focus on black clover's royals ^^

To answer your ask,

How Nozel views Leopold?

mostly with indifference

has probably wondered 'where did this kid come from?' at least twice a week, cause leopold literally popped in existence out of nowhere one day and nozel has never been so confused

would never admit it but he genuinely thought leopold was fuego's illegitimate son... until he realized, no, such a rowdy, wild existence can only come from mereoleona!

that aside, I imagine he'd get quite envious of fuego's relationship with leo compared to his with nebra or solid or noelle, especially noelle... in fact, leo's existence might be too much of a reminder of his flaws as a brother that nozel ended up actively avoiding him without realizing

(but if he's being perfectly honest to himself, he was delighted to see noelle get along with fuego's little runt of a brother later after they both became magic knights)

Next,

How Leopold views Nozel?

"KICK HIS ASS, ANIUE!"

I think he bit him once, as a baby. It was their first meeting.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Id place the world at your feet

by Plaintea Tim has always been small, the runt of the litter so to speak. So, it’s a little surprising to know that he spends his nights jumping across Gotham’s rooftops. That’s not to say that he’s very good at it. When he comes to school, injured, Jason can’t help himself. The kid is obviously hurting. Besides, sometimes it’s easier to kidnap a baby brother instead of asking your dad for a new one. OR The story of how Tim lost his camera but found a home. He might not have adult supervision but he’s got Janet’s brains and Jack’s money and more audacity than the two of them combined. So maybe following Batman and Robin at night was a bit overkill, but hey, he’s an overachiever. Sometimes, he just can’t help himself. Words: 3873, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Multi Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Bruce Wayne Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Genius Tim Drake, Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues, Tim Drake Lacks Self-Preservation Instincts, Protective Batfamily (DCU) via https://ift.tt/G0hqUtS