#dead!hiccup au

[honeymilkbubbletea]

Late night impulsive thoughts session 💅✨️

[seafoamdew]

Jack would be every bit of a reckless and thrill-seeking Viking, who blows raspberries at his enemies and cracks jokes during battle. Hiccup, an Autumn spirit who thinks he's more of a glorified babysitter, tries to make sure this wild child makes it to twenty.

[msphagime]

"But if the main characters in the WIP AU are mostly villains," you cry with much interest, "What are the Riders doing?"

They're unsuccessfully trying to solve a murder mystery.

[euphoritooth]

Damn. Pack it up y'all, I'm posting tri-monthly now.. Just kidding. Take my promises with a grain of salt. I have no idea what's next. Believe me, I was trying! The mental image is hardly there most of the time, but her music gets my brain going. Also obligatory Christmas thing I guess.

Lyrics/Theme: A Long, Unfortunate While by Ethel Cain.

[dragonnnfly]

Its been a while since I posted anything about the honorary sibling AU, and I know a lot of you like it so here’s a little canon fact in the AU

Tuffnut despises Dagur due to him calling Hiccup “brother”

There can only be one!

[dopscratch]

dropping dead space hiccup and toothless

The space vikings still have horns on their helmets, it's to discourage the dragons from biting their heads off hehe

The dragons themselves can live perfectly fine in space. Their gills now run down the sides of their body and are more like vents that they can use to control their movement. Instead of fire, they breathe superheated particles because fire doesn't play well in a vacuum.

Swords are still useful as they don't require ammo, which is very helpful for the space vikings who don't have a very reliable source of it. They also fight often enough that wasting a ton of ammo on the 15th petty dispute of the day isn't a very good option. Some fancier swords have augmentations that make them more like some of the plasma saws seen throughout the series, but the Endeavour is a simple sword because The Best Is Not Always The Most Obvious.

More info and story spoilers below the cut!

Hiccup is pretty similar to his canon counterpart. He's a nerd, likes dragon-watching, speaks four languages, and is pretty terrible at anything traditionally viking-like.

After the war breaks out, he starts seeing all of the dragons who he's killed so far as well as some others who have died in the war. They mostly fuel his paranoia and just stand there menacingly.

When Snotlout dies, Hiccup also starts getting haunted by visions of him, who try to mislead him near the final battle- especially problematic because he'd lost his memory at that time.

Toothless is a Stardragonus Giganticus Maximus hehe

[evilwriter37]

Rated: explicit

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/noncon

Relationships: Hiccup/Viggo

Word Count: 14,910

Chapter Word Count: 2,094

Summary: “Imagine what we could do with a soldier that never dies.” 

Johann’s ponderings have become all too true. An immortal Hiccup is taken and remade, forced to do the work of Viggo, Krogan, and Johann. He has no memory of a life before this. There is only this. He is the soldier that never dies.

[saturnniidae]

Making a wild au sounds fun until you've got a list of your main characters' traits and important defining moments and have to carefully shift and alter them to fit the circumstances of the au and see how it'd affect them and their behavior in this different environment but suddenly it's 8am and you've not slept

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Please heed the tags

[jube-art]

The man in his arms is crying harder now, holding onto Clark, sobbing out words in a tongue totally alien, grabbing tightly onto the fabric of Clark’s hero costume, of his family crest.

Oh.

“-El” the man in his arms gasps out a familiar word around the strange conglomeration of quick, flowing sentences and it makes no sense.

Krypton was dead. They had imploded under the weight of a dying planet years ago now, fallen under their own hubris. Now here sits a skeleton of an empire, sinking down onto his knees as Clark guides him down, sobbing into the stagnant, dusty air.

“Speak. Slowly.”. Clark’s own grasp on Kryptonian is self taught, rusty from missuse, and full of errors he doesn’t bother to knock out because the computer still understands his commands and Kara told him long ago to never butcher the langage near her again. He never expected to be able to speak with somebody. Never expected to have to.

“Is. It. Safe?” the man begs, curling into the wide breath of Clark’s chest. ��Outside?”

Clark shakes his head. The man is in no condition to leave the ship, he’d freeze in an instant out there, even in the warming heat of the spring months. Antarctica is a fickle mistress and is more likely to throw a snowstorm than behave. “It is too cold” Clark tells him. “You need to-“ Clark doesn’t know the word for rest, so he goes with the second immediate problem. “Eat.”

The man just grips his hands against Clark’s chest harder, pressing against it, hiccuping against the tears. “My children first. Please.”

--

an au where Bruce (and his children) survive krypton, and spend years trying to find a planet that is viable, slowly starving in cryptosleep, before finally stumbling onto the scout ship that landed on earth :)

[ghouljams]

Another Ghoul Rewrites The Shining this time with one Mr. John Mactavish. The Overlook Hotel might be getting to him...

(cw: dacryphilia, biting, breeding, light misogyny, threats, non-con -> con, dark!Soap, f!reader, horror au, ghosts, manipulation, madness/insanity, Dead Dove Do Not Eat)

I'm not responsible for you not reading the content warnings, this is a horror au, don't complain to me about it.

"Ahm nae gonna hurt you baby," Johnny tells you, the playful mirth of his tone feeling more mocking than comforting as you sob. He backs you up the stairs, his hands grabbing at the bat you wave. It feels playful, his grin crooked as you shake and scream at him.

"Stay away from me!" You sob, your voice feeling shrill. You have to stop him. You have to get out of here. You have to get your son and get out of here.

"Ahm nae gonna hurt ya," he repeats it, as if that will convince you. His hands grab the bat when you swing it at him. Your shoulders heave and you silently beg for him to let you go, pulling at the bat with every weakness you have against your husband's strength.

Johnny shoves the bat back against you, the end of it punching into your solar plexus and knocking the wind out of you. You tumble back against the stairs, releasing the bat to scramble up them as you try to catch your breath. You're sure your tears do nothing but egg your husband on as he grips your discarded bat in both hands and breaks it over his knee.

"Dinnae let me finish hen," he coos, taking another step towards you, "Ahm nae gonna hurt ya, ahm just gonna hauld ya down and remind ya who tha' cunt belongs tae."

The way he says it leaves no room for debate, it makes your blood run cold. You scream and clamor up the stairs. Johnny's hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you back down. You sob and claw at the carpeted steps, trying to gain purchase when you can barely see through the tears.

You kick back at Johnny, trying to catch any solid part of him before he yanks you down the steps a second time. Your chin catches one of the carpeted stairs and you see stars as your teeth clatter together. He takes the opportunity to push your corduroy overdress up and yank your fleece pants down. You try to blink the ringing out of your ears as Johnny rubs his cock between your folds.

Hyperventilation seizes you quick as he presses the blunt head against your tight hole. He's thick enough to hurt even with stretching, but now? Now you scream, shriek with something between anger and fear, and twist to push at him. It's just enough to get him out of you, to let you suck in a breath. Johnny catches your hands and tugs them behind your back with a grimace. He pulls your arms hard enough to inspire a fresh wave of tears as your shoulders scream in pain.

"Come oan hen," Johnny rasps, pulling you back to rut his cock between your thighs, "it's just like when we play pretend." You shake your head, yank at his grip and try to get your feet under you on the steep steps. "Ya cry an beg, but in the end ya always give in."

"Please John," You beg, "please, don't hurt me."

"Aye just like that, cryin' so pretty fer me."

"Oh god-" you hiccup trying to stop the violent sobbing that breaks your words apart, "-you're gonna kill me-" your tears blind you, your nose runs like a loose faucet, "-you're gonna chop me up, you planned it, I saw!" The rest of your words jumble together, beat black and blue by the heaving of your ribs as your world comes crashing down.

Johnny's grip on you loosens a fraction. Some measure of lingering hesitance swallowed down as he presses against your back. He molds himself to your spine, making the steps dig into your stomach. His nose pushes into the hair behind your ear, and he draws a shaky breath. It feels like your husband, like all the other times he's chased you through the house, and you sag under the weight of how much he's changed.

"I don't want tae kill ya hen," Johnny murmurs, "but they fill mah heid with all this-" he tenses, his body rigid and poised to attack, it makes you cower to feel such a predator pin you down, "-Ah gotta get it out of me, or ah really will hurt ya."

You press your forehead to the step and try to stiffen against your body's shaking.

Just like a scene, you try to convince yourself. It's just like the scenes you've played out with Johnny a dozen times. You're sure if you can find that soft fuzzy head space it'll protect you from whatever comes next. This has to be a scene.

Except you've never felt truly afraid during those. You've never felt your ribs lock when your husband's cock rubs over your exposed cunt, never felt the blistering heat of shame creep over you so aggressively. He's always moved a hand to guide himself to your entrance but now he uses both to keep you pinned, rutting against you like an animal until you're suddenly filled.

You're sure the shriek you let out could wake the dead.

Johnny's big, he knows he's big, and he's always been careful with you. Even when playing he'll find a way to stretch you out before trying to shove his cock into you. There's no preamble, no build up, just the searing heat of being stretched past your limit on your husbands fat cock. The warmth that surges through you leaves you trembling in Johnny's grasp, your teeth grit and your breath heavy as you try to manage the pain.

The only soothing you get is the grind of Johnny's hips against your ass, his lips against your shoulder as your brain plays catch up with your body. Heat burns at your entrance, stretched uncomfortably tight and dry around your husband's cock. There's no slick to ease the grind of his cock against the deep pit in you. Still, your eyes flutter, some awful spark of recognition seizing your nerves. Your body knows this part, knows the sting of pain, the dull throb of biting pleasure that digs its claws into your stomach and pulls it tight.

"There ya go, just like playin' pretend." Johnny murmurs against your ear, "Chokin' my cock squeezin' me like that."

Your face pinches in pain as he pulls out. The blunt head of his cock nudges against the soft spot by your entrance and you make a noise without meaning to. You can feel the teeth of Johnny's smile against your neck, before he's hammering his cock against the spot.

You scream again, sobbing for a different reason as you feel your cunt spasm, pleasure and tight pain lacing through you. Your skin heats, your clit tingling as he hits that tight bundle of nerves over and over again. It's a strange feeling, feeling each plunge of his cock, each knock against your walls, grow a little wetter. That must be his intention, working you into a dripping mess so that he can use you however he likes. But God. Why does it have to feel so good?

You choke on your gasps, your sobs garbled and incoherently groaned against the steps. Your stomach draws tighter and tighter, and your eyes flutter as you try to focus on the violation and not the orgasm your husband is forcing you towards. If you can just keep your mind on the way he'd chased you down, the way he'd ripped your pants down and pushed inside, maybe you can stop the rising tide of orgasm.

It doesn't work. Your brain is too addled with the other times he's done the same thing. How many times has your husband held you down and taken his pleasure from you? How many times have you begged him to? You've ruined yourself for him, and let him ruin you in turn. Even if you could hold onto the disgust and fear, your body betrays you.

You thought he'd laugh when he finally pushed you over the edge, your cunt fluttering around the shallow thrusts as you soak his hastily unbuttoned pants with your squirt, but he doesn't. It's just his hot breath against your throat, his canines scraping the skin as you whimper around your orgasm. There's a simmering of desire under his lips that seems to worm its way through your veins. Poison deposited in your carotid that addles your brain and makes your hips jump in his hold.

What you should have anticipated is how quickly he shoves the whole heavy length of his cock back into you. The path slick with your orgasm and your walls still spasming, he pushes himself as deep as he can. The sudden fullness makes you gasp. It doesn't hurt quite the same this time. You're too sensitive, your nerve endings lit up to feel every inch of his cock as it drags against your soft walls. It melts your brain, that slick burn sets you alight and you find your hips wiggling back against him.

"So bonnie when ya cry f'r me," Johnny hums, catching the tears that drip from your jaw with his tongue, "Told 'em Ahd have ya beggin', teach ya yer place. Fuck-" he pulls back, thrusts into you in a sharp staccato that punches breathless moans from you, "-anno ya love it, tryin' tae milk me like a fuckin' vice. Stupid fuckin' whore, runnin' fr'm yer 'usband."

"Fuck," you whine, between gasping breaths, "Johnny, baby, fu-uck."

"Aye, there she is," Johnny laughs, "see bonnie? Nae gonna hurt ya." He wraps a hand around your throat, cushioning it against the steps as he pushes his weight into his thrusts. You let out a garbled moan, it sounds so animalistic you're almost surprised it came from you. God the way he punches his cock into you aches, it's nauseating, it's so fucking good, it's too much for you to handle, it's going to drive you insane. That heavy throbbing pleasure that twists darkly in your stomach makes you tighten up again, makes you painfully aware of the way he's kept your arm twisted. Like he's still afraid you'll make a break for it, as if you had the strength to get free.

"Tell 'em 'oo ya belong tae, mah bonnie." Johnny grunts. You're dizzy with pain-pleasure, your eyes are swimming with tears, but you're almost convinced you can see them. The party of onlookers, dressed in outdated clothes, their smiles rueful, twisted with cruelty as they sip champagne and watch your husband take you apart. They blur, and fall apart with the drop of your tears.

"John-ny," You moan, "Johnny, Johnny, please."

His tongue follows the track of your tears, his lips pressing soft against the corner of your eye. "Aye, tha's right." He's so patronizing, cooing to you like you're a stupid animal, "An' Ah'll keep remindin' ya, remindin' all of ya, until Ahm sure it took."

That sticks in your melted mind, something in the way he says it has barbs, a promise of something more than just this violent coupling.

"Wha-" Your eyes roll as he squeezes your throat, just enough to make you light headed.

"Shhh," He presses his lips to your temple, "be good for me, bonnie, dinnae wanna make y'r 'usband mad now." You push back into his hard thrusts, you're good, you're so good. You can feel the heavy breaths he takes, the only indication he's given that he might be close to his own edge. "Gonna be so pretty when yer fat with ma bairn." He murmurs, and you clench tight around him. His resulting groan is deadly, delicious, barely a precursor for the way his teeth sink into your neck.

He fucks you breathless, his cock fucked into you so fast you can't do anything but scream for him. You feel warmth bloom on your neck and know he's drawn blood, but you can't find it in yourself to care when he's so rapidly pushed you to the edge again.

You sob, claw at the steps with your free hand, squirm away from his heavy thrusts, whatever you can to stop the explosion of burning heat that he pumps into you. Your cunt aches, your clit throbbing with needy tingles. You can't even string the necessary words together, but Johnny understands you anyway, dropping your arm to work his own under you and pinch your clit.

Stars burst behind your eyes, and you shake apart in his hold. He rolls your clit between his fingers, letting your cunt milk him as his thrusts slow into uneven grinding and finally still. His hips press tight against your ass and he releases his hold on your neck with a shaking breath.

Johnny pulls away from your back and you collapse boneless against the steps. His hands run over you, ease your arm carefully back to your side, gentling motions so different but so familiar. You can feel the drip of his come when he pulls his softening cock from you, hear the click of his belt as he fixes himself, apparently in no hurry to give you your dignity back.

Instead he rolls you onto your back and grabs your arm to haul you up and over his shoulder.

Like a caveman taking his prize home after a hunt, you think, your eyes drifting closed.

[1000dactyls]

my huge gripe w modern httyd aus is that it’s always set in the suburban midwest in podunk nothing town without taking it to its natural conclusion. As if berk would not be a steel mill town on the rust belt with the gas prices jacked sky high for tourists driving through the middle of nowhere. As if the barbaric archipelago would be the suburbs of a big city rather than rural towns in the Deep South. as if hiccup would not somehow end up hiking in the appalachias or turn up half dead after missing for 6months in the oregon wilderness. Cowards. Fools. if you’re setting it in america then you should take it to its natural conclusion 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[msphagime]

Waking on Dagon Island

"I've no regrets... none... yet I wish..." "I wish-" "I wish to fall asleep in my room, on Berk, like I used to. And... And I wish, once I wake in the morning, to see my father- my dad, sat for breakfast." [...] "Heiress Astrid...!" "Can you believe-" "Gods, every time I see her, I fear...! I fear that this will be the time they call her Chief."

Value practice + Gradient map fuckery

Don't you hate waking up from a dream where you got along with your father, only to find out that somehow, while you were sleeping, you've found your way to the island that forever doomed you away from home, for better or for worse? Yeah, me too.

[k0yaz]

drink from me.

Pairings: shenhe x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, vampire au, vamp shenhe yayay, mentions of violence, blood obviously, men, reader being scared at first because she’s a PUSSY, GIRLS LIKING GIRLS OH NO, she walks in on reader changing like once but it’s not meant to be weird you absolute freaks, I USE THE WORD TITS OMG SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE??? Reader kinda 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (not really), bloodsucking yummy, lowkey cringe wee woo wee woo jk I don’t give a fuck if it’s cringe, not proofread

A/N: YAYAYAYSYS VAMPIRE AU YAY I had to down two bottles of tea while writing this one ngl I wasn’t feeling as creative but I might write a part 2 for this who knows 🕯️

Wallowing in the swift rushes of wind grazing your unconscious body, your knocked out self remained perplexed as to what was occurring within your surroundings while your current view was pitch black. All you felt was a set of calloused hands situated firmly below your back, and your curled up form pressed against someone’s chest.

A couple moments ago, a stream of agonized, low cries erupted from several individuals circling you, that being the only thing you heard once your vision went dark. Likely, it was the screams of the armed circle of men who had backed you up into the woods, actively targeting you. Your hands had scrabbled backwards desperately against the dried leaves, palms stinging from the light scratches from the crunching leaves.

The mist clouding both your vision and cloaking your perpetrators into a menacing silhouette only served to heighten the sense of helpless dismay fogging your mind. You choked out a sudden weak hiccup as your back abruptly bumped against the rugged wood of a large oak tree towering above you, leaving you at a dead end. It all seemed to flicker out of view as what seemed like a cold steel rod collided against the side of your head, causing your body to rock slightly before collapsing onto your side.

Thin trickles of blood ran down the corner of your ear, occasionally rolling down your cheek to the ground to stain the dried leaves a bright red. You knew you were finished. They were going to kill you. You were knocked out already left with your final thoughts of turmoil, while the crunching of one of the men’s footsteps grew louder and louder, indicating he was getting closer. Suddenly, the crunching came to a halt, a shriek now piercing your bloodied ears, along with a swift splatter noise following it.

Your unmoving, curled up body remained buried in leaves as the string of shrieks followed by splatters rang in your ears. Despite being unconscious, you didn’t know what was here, yet your gut wrenched at the gnawing feeling that this unknown savior was coming for you next. Instead, you felt yourself elevated off of the rough earth, this person’s arms not being softer, yet making you feel a bit more at ease in their arms clutching your form.

The cold wails of the breeze fluttered against your skin, rigid goosebumps blooming onto your skin as your body shivered from the stinging cold. Slowly, you began to regain faint traces of consciousness, eyes slightly squinted as you briefly opened them. Your body jerked upon opening your eyes, your vision clearing up to reveal a woman with ice white hair staring off into the distance with a stern gaze plastered onto her rested face, pale pupils fixated ahead of her as you noticed that you were moving abnormally quick along with her while situated in her arms.

She didn’t seem to react at your minute movements as you jerked in her arms upon regaining consciousness. You winced as you felt her fingers tighten into your back, strengthening her grip when she realized that you were awake.

“Don’t let go. Hold onto me.” She commanded, her sharp voice making you flinch and comply with her while she still avoided looking over at you. The feeling that she wasn’t normal racked your body with a shiver, eyes trailing her figure as your arms tightened around her neck, cold fingers tracing along her nape and making her sigh. Her nails seemed to rake along your clothed back in thin motions while she held you. Abnormal speed, pale skin, and sharp nails? Not to mention the intricately suited clothing fitted onto her body? Yeah. She wasn’t human.

There wasn’t any time to worry about things like that though. Once you had recovered completely, you planned to thank her for saving your life. A large, dark architecture filled your sight as her pace quickened, dim golden rays adding a barely visible glow to the windows inside. The woman halted before the lavish mansion, her gaze darting down to you so rapidly that it was strangely uncanny. You only blinked in confusion as the doors seemed to part themselves for her, your mind flooding with a flurry of questions as to if you were dreaming or not.

However, when she opened her feverish lips to breathe out a relaxed sigh, your train of thought was suddenly pushed back upon catching a quick glimpse of a strangely sharp set of fangs adorning the corners of her teeth.

“Can you stand?” The woman inquired, iridescent eyes transfixed onto you. It was quite intimidating to be honest—mixed with the revelation that she was possibly a blood sucking vampire on the verge of devouring you, caused your stomach to drop in fear of what she could’ve possibly brought you here for. “I…I think I can.” You muttered out in a shaky voice, stumbling over your words out cautiously.

Lowering yourself onto your feet, your statement proved to be wrong as your wobbly legs buckled inward. The woman reached over and almost immediately caught you, arm snaked around your waist before you could topple against the glossed marble floors. You exhaled a relived huff as your face was in line with the hard surface, cringing at the thought of your skull cracking against the marble. Her fingers laced into your hair as she heaved a sigh, brushing a few stray strands out of your face. She effortlessly hitched up your body into her arms, curling them around your waist to keep a hold of you from slipping as she carried headed toward the stairs.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a maid carrying a tray beholding a small cup and a bowl, before she set it down on the table and headed over to the two of you. She backed up slightly, seemingly out of respect before lowering her head.

“Miss Shenhe, is there anything else you need?”

Huh. That was a pretty name for someone who might murder you later.

Shenhe shook her head, before replying. “We do have a fresh spare room, right?” The maid simply nodded, raising her chin to gesture towards a spruce door on the right of the second floor. “Thank you. I’ll call you back if I need anything.”

Once Shenhe had carefully stepped along the polished stairs with you situated in her arms, she leaned over against the door, pushing it open with her shoulder while still holding you. Your eyes widened in awe at the opulent decor of the spare room, scanning the dim lighting from the chandelier hung by a short chain branched from the ceiling, and the gold and porcelain decorations stacked atop various shelves and tables.

Your back pressed against the fleece silk of the pure white bedsheets, eyes nearly fluttering shut at how your body sunk into the soft blankets. Shenhe looked you up and down, her expression still calm and unfeeling as she attempted to affirm that you were comfortable.

“Make yourself comfortable. You can go ahead and get out of your dirty clothing, I’ll go and fetch you some fresh clothing.”

Letting out a small “mhm,” you apprensively continued to track Shenhe, making sure she left the room. Once she shut the door behind her, you heaved a long breath which you felt like you’d been holding in for ages, your constricted chest and tense muscles seemed to relax when she left. You don’t understand why you’re so cautious of her. Sure, she may be a vampire, but she had saved your life. On top of that, giving you a room without you asking was awfully kind of her. Perhaps you should ease up a bit around her.

You hunched one shoulder up, leaning your cheek against it as you began to slide down your soaked and bloody clothing. Before you could reach over for a towel after completely stripping down, the door swung open, smacking the wall with a large thud and revealing Shenhe holding a set of neatly folded black robes in her hands. Almost immediately, you gripped the edge of the blanket, throwing it over your exposed self, while your hand instinctively covered your chest as your face was flushed bright red from embarrassment.

“Can you knock?! And how did you get here so fast?”

Shenhe simply shrugged and set the robes down on the bedside table, turning her back to you and proceeding to walk out. For a moment, her hand rested on the side of the door quietly as the clock’s ticking reverbated through the room, cutting through the silence.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, before shutting the door behind her. It was as if she didn’t mean it, but just wanted to be polite, considering that she took into account that humans weren’t a huge fan of being seen nude. You sighed out In slight guilt, hearing the door creak as it clicked shut. She was treating you so kindly, yet here you were yelling at her for something as trivial as almost seeing your tits. Reaching over, you proceeded to slip on the silk robes, allowing the left end to hang off your shoulder loosely and expose it.

You admired the craftsmanship and comfort of the silk covering your body as you struck various poses into the gold rimmed mirror, praying nobody would walk on you doing the most embarrassing shit known to humankind. After a couple moments of admiring yourself, you headed over to the bed, flopping down and allowing the plush mattress to engulf your outstretched frame. Thin transparent curtains cascaded down either side of the bed, and blocking out the already dim light shining from the lamp and chandelier. The cloud like softness of the bed made you instantly relax, feeling like royalty as comfort and ease flooded your senses.

All of a sudden, a brisk knock tapped at your door, making you jolt and sit up straight—albeit a bit sluggishly considering that you were practically sinking into the mattress. You groggily wavered back onto your bare feet, opening the door hesitantly to peek out through the small gap.

“Shenhe?”

“May I come in?”

Wow. She really decided to listen to your last harsh comment about her knocking.

You nodded, extending a hand to gesture her to come in. She gratefully slipped inside, looking over at your bed and then back to window before your bed, revealing the crowning rays of sunlight beginning to rise, indicating it was nearly morning. Strangely enough, Shenhe seemed to repel away from the sun rays, snapping her head to the side swiftly. She carefully walked over and tugged the curtains shut, her already pale skin fostering an almost sickly white hue when she caught a glimpse of the bright sun.

“Are you alright..?” You asked with your head slightly cocked to the side, clearly attempting to make up for being so defensively rude earlier. Shenhe nodded, composing herself and standing upright, before situating herself beside you in the bed. “I’m fine. Just slightly parched.” She hummed, those pale pupils of hers still seeming to not show any signs of vulnerability and still sharp.

And just like that, you felt a twinge of unease and discomfort, knowing fully well she was referring to blood. You subtly retracted your arm from her, trying to push back the annoying vexations of your human instinct. Shenhe suddenly interrupted your little internal turmoil, breaking the uncomfortable silence with her voice.

“I might just go find a blood bag in the wild, it’s nothing of concern.”

You couldn’t help but feel your apprehension replace with guilt at your stereotypical assumptions of her. She had just saved you and provided you with a place to stay for a bit, while also trying to be polite, yet here you were assuming things about her just cause of the fact that she was a vampire.

“…do you want to drink from me?”

She paused, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t that hurt for you?”

“Yeah but it’s not unbearable I hope. Plus I want a way to repay you for saving me back there.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You rolled up the sleeve of your robe until the cloth bundled up to your elbow, before sticking your arm out toward her, wrist facing up. “If you insist.” Shenhe rasped out, her throat probably dry from her thirst. Gently taking a hold of your hand, she wrapped her fingers around the space below your elbow to keep your robe sleeve from sliding back down, flipping your hand over so that your palm was face down. She lowered her head to your knuckles, a surge of different emotions building up inside you as her breath fanned over your skin.

You sucked in a breath upon feeling the initial sting of her fangs prodding at your forearm, biting back a pained gasp as you felt them bury within your skin. You continued to stare down with a couple labored breaths as she lapped at the occasional blood trickling down your wrist. Surprisingly, the way she was drinking your blood didn’t seem as painful as you thought, and you let out a sigh as her expression seemed much more relaxed with each sip of your blood.

A sudden lightheaded ache washed over you once Shenhe pulled away, grabbing the bandages conveniently situated on your bedside table to aid your wrist.

“Thank you.” She whispered, guiding you against the mattress as she raised a hand to caress your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered lower at her tender touch grazing your skin, tilting your head against the fluffy pillows. She rose to her feet suddenly, heading out as the door creaked behind her upon closing.

You sank back as silence enveloped the room once more, eyes closing peacefully as you barely felt any lingering pain in your wrist by now.

Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: OH MY GOD THIS WAS LONG anyway wawawawawawa NO THIS ISNT A SESBIAN LEX FIC YOU FREAKY PEOPLE. Jk love yall

Yay :3

[sillyboycam]

“I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”

“Oh would ya’?~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I told you they’ve been on my mind.

Oh yeah, I also watched one of my favourite movies httyd2 and y’know… got a little into it as usual..

I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while, definitely before I watched httyd2 but AFTER watching season 2 of Arcane I decided “Man, this would make a GREAT drawing” .

And here we are!

Anyways this is a sort of “Au” I’ve made, Viktor as Valka, leaving and everyone thinking he’s “dead”.

While I put Jayce as Stoic, because, in retrospect they’re both people of power. Leaders that have a pretty tough life, along with losing their loved one(s). Also, Jayce finally got a beard and you know what Stoic looks like.

Since Valka and Stoic obviously had Hiccup, in my mind I think Jayce and Viktor both adopted a kid to be theirs. (Also to be the next chieftain, since they’re both men of course.) His name is Jekkel, and he’s similar to each of them in terms of appearance. His personality leaning a little towards Viktor’s rather than Jayce’s.

They’d also adopt a little girl named Viyati. (They were especially happy with the name since they picked it themselves) Viyati is the youngest dragon rider of her tribe so far. Her personality is definitely more like Jayce’s as she’s always putting herself and her brother out there. With, of course, boundaries kept in place as Jekkel isn’t usually one to actually want to be out there.

So Viyati always respects him and his needs.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s dragon would be a LightFury,

Jayce’s would be a TimberJack,

Jekkel’s would be a DeathSong,

And (ironically) I think I’d give Viyati a Screaming Death. (ie, smallest little dragon rider gets a big ass scary looking dragon, and it loves her)

>>>>>>

In this Au neither Jayce nor Viktor would die, but, would come super duper close to it many, many times.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s clothes consist of a big white hood rimmed with white tipped red fur, and lots of designs traced onto the hood itself in an off-white.

A black Viking tunic with purple embroidery along the edges and the neckline adorns him, with armour on his chest. Black and scaled.

His arms would be wrapped in white leather from the forearm down, tied in neat bows.

Giant white fur boots with black pants is what he wears on the daily. A spiky belt adorns his sleek waist.

Last thing, he has black scaled arm warmers! In which the white leather wraps around. In a cute bow of course.

>>>>>>

Jayce’s outfit would be a bit more complex, as well as the kids, so if you’d like me to go more in depth I’d be happy too! (Just not in this post, I’m not one to make long descriptions lol)

>>>>>>

Viktor is actually married to Jayce in this one! Their wedding was beautifully done (weeps…) and their rings were gorgeous. This means, the whole family is a Talis!

So that’s; Jayce Talis, Viktor Talis, Jekkel Talis, and Viyati Talis. Also Jayce’s mother, Ximena Talis. She’s a very important figure in the village, a wizard with talents for medicine.

>>>>>>

I have tons of more ideas and I’d love to tell you them all. If you’re interested, let me know!

Anyways this might’ve already been done… but I’m not sure. If it has do let me know! I’d love to chat with that person ;]

Okay,

I hope you enjoy this one!

Love you all

as always art is by me —————> @sillyboycam

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 18

Part 1 Part 17

Will runs to the voice before Steve can stop him, falling on his knees on the carpet next to a bookcase full of the odds and ends that always seem to accumulate in everyone else’s houses. Will reaches out, like he’s begging a ghost to hold him. Where he touches, light explodes, just like it had on the ceiling, but now, now Will is touching it.

Steve takes two quick steps toward the kid before the voice comes again. “Okay,” it says. “Good, good, good. Where are—”

The voice sounds like it’s choking on emotion. It sounds like Mrs. Byers from the grocery store on a bad day. It sounds like Will’s Mom. But what if it’s a trick? What if the Demogorgon is going to burst from the light any moment and rend his little body in two?

“I’m here, Mom,” Will says, still holding his hands up into the light. “I’m—”

“Blink once for yes, and twice for no,” she pleads. “Can you do that for me sweetie?”

Will’s eyes are shining in the light until he pulls his hands back and the light goes out.

“What is that?” Eddie murmurs to him, leaning into his space like he always is.

“A lamp?” Steve asks just as Will puts his hand back up, blinking once for yes.

Eddie looks it him like he’s surprised, but it makes sense. Light is light is light, what else could it be?

“She can clearly see it on the other side,” Eddie says.

They’re both talking quietly, but they still shut up when Mrs. Byers starts talking again. “Good boy, good boy,” their only link to the living world says.

“Baby, I need to know, are you alive?”

Will chokes at that, tears pouring out of his eyes, as he curls in on himself, wounded at the thought of his Mom thinking he was dead.

Eddie nudges further into his space, sides pressed together as Steve wonders if his own Mom has even noticed he’s gone.

Will blinks the lights once, and Joyce Byers cries. “Are you safe?” she asks.

Will turns to them now, seemingly remembering they’re there. He’s got snot dripping out of his nose and onto his upper lip. It’s disgusting. Steve wants to bundle the kid in a warm blanket and get him the fuck out of here. Beside him, Eddie slowly shakes his head.

Will hiccups, turning back to where the light will be. He raises his arms once. Twice. Not safe. He’s trapped in a hell world with two fuckups that can’t keep themselves safe, much less him.

Joyce Byers starts sobbing, and Steve Harrington feels like dirt. “I need to know where to find you, honey,” she says, words tripping over each other. “Where— where are you? Can you tell me where you are?”

Will sinks into himself, arms wrapping around his knees. His hands are glowing. Steve wants to die.

“Can you please, baby? I need to find you. Tell me what to do.” Will cries harder, his whole body sinking into itself, toward the ghost of his mother until his whole body is glowing.

“I’m here, Mom,” Will cries.

Eddie reaches out and squeezes Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back and holds on as the family reunion plays out in front of them.

“Talk to me, baby.”

The lights start to go crazy, like Mrs. Byers’ desperation is reaching through the veil between their worlds and bathing him in light. The whole room is lit now. It’s bright. Blinding. Beautiful. Steve gasps, mesmerized by it as the floating lights flicker in and out, faster and faster until they’re drilling a hole into his head.

Then he hears it: the sound of claws rending a door.

“Will, run,” Steve says, but it comes out as a whisper. It doesn’t matter, Will is already looking at the door, eyes wide and colorless in the blinding light.

“Go,” Steve shouts, just as the Demogorgon begins its clicking call. He pulls Eddie hard, yanking him toward Will.

“Mom,” Will shouts, “Mom, run!”

Eddie yanks the kid up, shoving him forward. “Your Mom will be fine,” he says. “It’s here, not there. Move!”

But that’s not true, is it? The Demogorgon went to the real world to drag Will here in his shed. It dragged him and Eddie in through the fucking swimming pool. It could get Mrs. Byers. Steve wouldn’t let it.

Will rushes through the house, hopefully toward an exit – a back door, a window. Eddie’s hot on his heels, but Steve stops in the doorway, picks up the shotgun and waits.

It doesn’t take long for Munson to rush back. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, just as the Demogorgon stalks into view.

“Meet back at your trailer, okay?” Steve says, keeping the gun up, eyes trained.

“Harrington,” Eddie whispers, harsh enough to come out as a hiss.

“Keep the kid safe, okay?”

“Come with us,” Eddie says, sounding like he’s crying. Steve doesn’t look his way. “Now.”

The Demogorgon doesn’t walk toward them. It stalks toward the wall where Mrs. Byers had been and swipes its claws. The gaudy wallpaper rends just the same as the wall. It reaches its monstrous claw into somewhere new.

“Keep the kid safe,” Steve repeats. He should be scared, but he’s not. He should be screaming, or crying, or running. But he’s not. His feet are planted, his finger is on the trigger, and the scope is trained right on this thing’s head. He’s so in his body that he’s out of it. “I’ll see you at home.”

He takes a shot just as Eddie turns to run , just as Mrs. Byers starts screaming, If he has to go out, this feels like the perfect place for one last stand, protecting two people at his back, stopping this thing from rending a family apart.

A window shatters further into the house. They’re out. Fuck, they made it out.

The Demogorgon turns toward him, opening it’s face and screeching loud enough that the house shakes, loud enough to drown out Mrs. Byers’ screaming.

He shoots it again, straight in its mouth. It staggers back. The rift in the wall is still there. Steve can just barely see the top of Mrs. Byers head.

“Come get me, you fucker.”

Steve Harrington runs.

Part 19