#gobber's past

[noctusfury]

Is Gobber an Outsider? (A HTTYD Theory)

Hello, my fellow Furians, and welcome to another HTTYD lore article. Today we'll be talking about something that I've been wondering about for the last few years. I had meant to write this a while ago but just never got around to it.

Keep in mind that this could very well be wrong since there's just so many gaps and missing links concerning Gobber's past. But this is simply an observation I've noticed and just want to humbly share with the rest of you.

In the Riders of Berk episode "How to Pick Your Dragon", Stoick says this after Hiccup asks this question:

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Stoick: A friend, huh? Like me and Gobber? Hiccup: Yeah, perfect. What did you do when you two met? Stoick: That's my wife you're talking to, you one-legged lout!

<><><><><>

From this conversation, two clues can be ascertained. One, that the first time they met, Stoick had to tell him whose wife it was, when, if Gobber had been a native, he should have already known since weddings were community events. Two, Gobber was one-legged already when they had met.

And then there's the fact that that was their first meeting. If Gobber had been a Berkian native, then Stoick, the chief's son, would've known him almost from the beginning, despite them being 5 years apart.

What's interesting is that in the "Legend of the Bonenapper" short film, Gobber tells the gang of his misadventures in his younger days — exaggerated they may be. Throughout the entire franchise, most of his stories had him outside of Berk and around the Archipelago.

He may have been a wanderer who couldn't settle anywhere for long on account of him always being chased by the Bonenapper for the "treasure". He eventually settled on Berk, and after some decades, felt that he had finally escaped it, only for it to come again in the film. It's also noticeable that nobody believes Gobber when he says that the Bonenapper is after him (of course, it didn't help that Gobber always changes his stories the more he tells them).

Again, we have to take some of it with a few grains of salt on account of his history of telling tall tales. However, that doesn't take away the fact that Gobber and Stoick didn't know each other in their younger days. In "Cast Out" Gobber tells Hiccup about Alvin and Stoick's relationship as if he had heard it second-hand from either Stoick or somebody else, rather than as a bystander who witnessed those events with his own eyes.

Another theory could be that Gobber was Berkian but was gone a lot due to visiting external family or his family wanted to be away from the dragon raids until their son was older. Could be also that Gobber had the travel bug and enjoyed visiting other places. Who knows. 🤷‍♂️

What do you guys think? Think my theory is plausible? Let me know what ideas you may have about Gobber's origins.

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Whenever I see a post about Chief Hiccup (or watch Httyd 2, for that matter) I'm always reminded of how Stoick did not want his son to become chief the way he did.

Maybe it's because Stoick saw his reluctance to succeed him, maybe it's something Stoick went through himself when he became chief and he wanted to spare his son the pain, but he had a plan. He was going to retire. Step down and let Hiccup take over in his stead. That way, his father could ease him into this insanely big responsibility, could be there to guide him, help him with the tough stuff he knows Hiccup might have trouble with.

Except, then he dies at Drago's hands. And Hiccup ends up thrusted into a position a feared to be in. And yeah, he does it mostly alone, just as his father did before him, which is exactly what Stoick was hoping to avoid.

[justpeaxchy]

'Why not me?'

Warnings: Jealousy, a "little" misunderstanding between Hiccup and reader.

A/n: !Fem reader! I recommend reading this as a part two to this short writing I did, but either way it can be read on its own! This was originally intended as a separate work but here we are ig lol.

Hiccup's eyes followed your figure once more, watching as you hauled more wood for another house that was "accidentally" burned down again. The report came rather quickly that the Twins had performed another prank and it somehow led to a "small" devastation, as they called it, on a viking's innocent home. You called for Astrid again, who was managing Stormfly as she carefully placed down the pieces needed for the home to repair it, and gestured to the new pile of wood that lay on the ground. She nodded and went back to her work with a glare sent towards the two twins who merely stood next to the burnt heap, giggling among themselves.

He wouldn't admit it, but Hiccup had been noticing more of Berk starting to flock around you as they had finally seen the two of you spend more time together. It brought a certain emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint. For one, most of them only started talking to you since they recognized you as someone now "close" to the Chief. On the other hand, they only wanted to get closer with you because of your connection. Everyone knew Hiccup on Berk, so he was puzzled - and a tad bit angry - that a good portion of them acted as though you never even existed and he was someone on a higher pedestal because of the position handed down to him.

Of course, on the outside, it looked as though they were treating him as normally as they would've before - with the due respect for a Chief - but Hiccup noticed the slight difference, especially with you. He didn't know if you did though. It bothered him in a way he couldn't vocalize it, unusually so. He had barely begun developing his relationship with you, taking the small steps you needed; the ones he was more than willing to take.

So, when these people decided to come in and sneak their way down the path he treaded with you - it made him upset him in more ways than one. He even heard Snotlout ogle over you at one point. He had heard his fanatics before but, for some strange reason, it brought him to the conclusion of physically pushing him out of the Forge where he was trying to gather his thoughts in peace.

Hiccup fumbled with the charcoal pencil in his hand, trying to drown out the noise around him that was the daily turmoil of vikings. He told himself to stay focused on the sketch someone had wanted for a new saddle before handing it off to Gobber - that was supposed to be the plan. His idea of having himself under control for the day were seemingly forgotten as he managed to steal a swift glance in your direction.

Out of everything, Hiccup Haddock did not expect for himself to act up when someone offered to help take the load of wood out of your arms. Perhaps he would've felt better if it wasn't Eret son of Eret who had willingly taken it out of your arms. Hiccup knew he wasn't losing his eyesight when he had seen Eret's hands lightly brush yours when he took the burden of wood out of your hands. It puzzled the Chief as to why he was even feeling this way.

Hiccup wasn't blind or numb to the fact that Eret, ever since he arrived at Berk, was known for his physique and his striking appearance. As well as being a dragon trapper in the past, of course. Sudden thoughts came to Hiccup's mind as he watched the short interaction between you two, not understanding the emotion that gripped his heart when he had seen your smile to the man who offered you his help. He knew that you were getting used to smiling more - he was the one who told you to try it out more - but he pondered over the question in his head that wouldn't leave him alone: Why did it take you longer to smile at him like that?

As if Hiccup's body moved on its own, he called for Toothless, who had been resting by his side in the Forge, and stomped his way to your direction. You were busy directing Astrid for where she should place the wood on top of the house just in case she missed a spot or didn't put it down correctly. You hadn't expected for a hand to grab yours, with such urgency and yet clothed with a gentle tug, to pull you away from the task you were occupied with. "Hey! What is this-"

Your words were interrupted as you caught Hiccup pulling you closer to his side as he called out for the Twins, "Ruff, Tuff! You're going to be the ones to handle this. It was your doing and the least you could do is tell Astrid where to go from here, okay?" He gave them no time for a proper response, other than the annoyed grumbling that came, as he led you beside Toothless. Confusion clouded your mind as your eyes followed him hauling himself on the night fury and reach out his hand for yours as if telling you to do the same.

"Hiccup, you know I have my own dragon, right-" He swiftly grabbed your hand that was slowly reaching out for his in the middle of your speech as he remained silent, "And I guess that doesn't matter because-" Your startled scream soon took over as Toothless shot into the air without warning, causing you to cling onto Hiccup with all of your strength you could possibly muster. It made you question how he could so easily ride the night fury - being that they were known to be the fastest dragon alive. "H-hey! Where are we going?"

Hiccup lightly patted your hand that was settled on his waist, his gaze not moving from the scenery around him. "Just wait a bit, you'll see." He muttered something to Toothless that you couldn't catch due to the high speeds of wind blowing across your face, making you even more nervous. You trusted Hiccup, of course, but sometimes it was obvious that the 'odd' side of himself could get a little carried away. So, you did the only thing you could do in that moment: hold on as tightly as you could as Toothless dived into a deeper part of the woods.

--------------------------------------------

"Ah, so this is where you found him." Your legs shakily wobbled off of the night fury who cooed at your ruffled form. Your hair wasn't as neat as you had it before, making you slightly annoyed before turning to Hiccup. "So.. why bring me here?" You carefully inspected him as he hopped off Toothless, much more better than you had, and nervously swing his arms as he normally did in a situation that left him feeling awkward or anxious.

"Why? Oh, you know - just - wanted to spend some time with you. I mean, do you want to spend time with me? Because you don't have to if-" He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke when he noticed you rolling your eyes at his statement.

"Hiccup, it's too late for me to go back now. You practically dragged me out here on the back of a dragon and I would much rather fly back to Berk than walk." You knew it wasn't a far ways off, but you didn't entirely feel like going all the way back when your legs were recovering from being shot into the air so quickly, "Also, you didn't really give me much of a choice."

You gazed at his hands that seemingly didn't know what do at the moment, hesitating at the thought of grabbing them. "Yeah, I realize that now. That's my fault, sorry." Hiccup muttered out the phrase as if he had been caught doing a scandalous act before stepping closer to you as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I just-" He paused, inhaling as he considered his next words, "I just happen to notice that you've been more.." Another pause; "Occupied with the work load that's been piling up on you recently."

Hiccup inwardly cringed at his reasonings, knowing that it wasn't a good enough excuse as you narrowed your eyes. "Yes? I mean, what do you want me to do? Sit around all day and hope I make some coins by doing nothing?" You sighed and carefully took a step closer to him, the distance between you two slightly bothering you. "I don't want to be like I was before; standing around and barely getting by because of the leftover chores Berk left for me."

Your eyes never left him as he continued to settle on looking at the ground. "Anyway, aren't you the Chief? Shouldn't I be the one saying this to you? I know you've probably got a lot on your shoulders too, not just me." You tried lightening up the mood as Hiccup gently shook his head, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before it faded once more.

"I know it sounds stupid." He exhaled, as if trying to breathe away the thing that was bothering him, "I'm sorry, but don't you think people should... I don't know.." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to play his next words off casually, "Give you more personal space..?" Hiccup took the risk and glanced up to see your reaction, which wasn't what he expected.

You snorted, then giggled, then covered your mouth as laughter consumed you, watching the way Hiccup's gaze falter slightly as he took in the sight. "What? Personal space?" You tried your best to grasp in what little air you could as your laughter rang throughout the small cove you two were in. "What're you getting at, Hiccup?" A sudden thought came to mind as you smirked, taking another step closer to the Chief; the nervousness that threatened you earlier having been disappeared. "I hope you're not forgetting when I asked for my own personal space when you came and decided to visit me almost every single day."

Hiccup groaned and rubbed his face, as though a headache were arising. "You know it's not like that! That's not what I meant-" He struggled to speak coherently when your small doses of laughter filled his ears. "Do you like the attention or something? I mean, when Eret touched your hand you seemed pretty okay with it to me." The realization of what he said had finally came to Hiccup before he quickly waved his hands, noticing your smile dim away, "Wait! That's not what I meant-"

"Okay, Hiccup. What're you really getting at? You should know me enough that I won't go out of my way to get the attention of people that I wouldn't want to talk to." You huffed, slightly hurt at the idea that crossed Hiccup's mind. "And I didn't ask for Eret to help me, he was just kind enough to take that load of wood from me - which was very heavy by the way." You crossed your arms, stubbornly taking a step away from him as he decided to take two more steps closer.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault - again - but I didn't mean it in that way. I know that is the complete opposite of who you are, but I-" Hiccup sighed, forcing himself to see what was actually wrong with him. "I think I'm not used to all of these people coming in and talking with you and working with you like they've been friends with you since birth. I guess I got used to-"

Hiccup managed to catch himself before uttering anything else, causing you to questioningly narrow your eyes at him. "Got used to what, Chief?" You held back another burst of laughter at the flustered state of the man before you, watching with intent eyes every gesture he made with his hands.

"N-nevermind. How about we go back and I'll let you work in peace and I won't bother you about it anymore." He reached out for your arm as he began to pull you towards Toothless. "C'mon, here we go-" Hiccup winced as you suddenly maneuvered his hand off your arm with a twist, causing him to let go of your arm as he spun around. "Why would you do that?"

You grinned, the atmosphere from earlier forgotten as you dusted yourself off from imaginary dirt. "Tell me what you were going to say." When he tried to escape the situation with more rambling you cracked your fingers, intimidatingly stepping forward, "Say it."

Hiccup kicked the ground like a toddler as he shook his head. "You're so stubborn.." He barely managed to see your hand getting closer to his ear as you threatened to pinch them before he stepped to the side, potentially saving himself from even more pain. "Alright, alright! Just don't get the ears!" He protectively covered the sides of his face as you triumphantly grinned, awaiting his answer.

"Look, I guess I got used to.." He found himself looking at the ground once more as he spoke. "Having you more to myself." He purposefully mumbled the last bit of his speech, hoping he could somehow get away with it. Much to his despair, however, you still listened to every word.

He heard your footsteps approaching to where he stood and he glanced up to see a delicate smile taking over your features before your hand reached out for his. You held it as if you were handling a precious piece of glass, carefully lifting it away from his side. "Is that really what you think?" Your eyes held a sincerity to them that Hiccup couldn't ignore, making his heart beat slightly faster than before.

When all he could do was nod, you finally took it upon yourself to be the one to hug him first - which you gladly did the moment he gave you his answer. You found yourself smiling into his shoulder as he stood still in his spot for a moment. "Hiccup, just know I'll never be able to look at them in the way I view you. They can't replace what you did, no matter how hard they might try."

When you felt his arms embrace you in return, you couldn't help but let the smile on your face continue to grow as he sighed, his breath fanning your neck in - what sounded like - relief. "Are you upset with me?"

"Not anymore. Maybe if you gave me a kiss I'd be over the moon. But, hey, that's just me." You chuckled when you heard nothing but silence come from him, assuming he was too much in a flustered state to respond.

You squeezed him one final time before letting him go. The weight of your words hadn't settled in until you stepped away from him, causing you to fumble with your hair. "So, we should - probably - uhm, head back -"

Hiccup, noticing your actions, nodded once more before swiftly taking your hand in his as he lead you both back to Toothless. You told yourself not to be consumed with the fluttering of your heart by his simple move, but it became much more of a challenge when he stopped in front of his dragon to face you.

"One more thing before we go." Hiccup pulled you closer to him by your hand he had grabbed, officially closing any remaining distance between you both as his lips met yours. You didn't expect it, which caused you to nearly trip on your own feet before his other arm caught you, still engaged in the kiss as though it had never happened. If you weren't imagining things, you could've sworn you felt him smile in the midst of it all.

You were breathless as he, unfortunately, pulled away from you, gazing intently at your flustered form before guiding you onto Toothless. "So, you're definitely not angry now, right?"

You rolled your eyes as Hiccup readied himself on Toothless, glancing back at you for an answer. "I already said I wasn't..." You folded your arms, making yourself now look like the toddler as he snickered and turned forward.

"Well, you might want to hang on." He gleefully muttered something to Toothless as you stubbornly held your position, which was not hanging onto him at all. When he came to the conclusion that you were rather grumpily not obliging to him, he tapped his dragon to silently tell him to leave.

It was only when Toothless had darted up in the air that you screamed and tightly held onto Hiccup for your dear life, which he quite enjoyed.

[pastel0rchid]

A Gift from the Gods (4)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: None

A/N: I finally finished this chapter. I'm so sorry that it took way longer than normal. As I've explained in some of my posts, my last year of college is absolutely kicking my butt. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

The Dining Hall was packed… too packed.

It was filled to the brim with Vikings of all different shapes and sizes, young and old sitting together at the long tables spread throughout the room. It was the most people you had seen together in a very long time.

And the sound.

Dragons were loud, that was a known fact. But a room bustling with Vikings was something entirely different. Years of being around the creatures and hunting in the forest had made you sensitive to sound, and you could feel a throbbing in your head just from how much noise was filling your ears.

Conversations began merging, everything sounding the same. The only thing you could make out was the deafening voices surrounding you.

Gobber had placed you off to the side where Stoick had ordered him to, wanting you to be in his line of sight at all times. The rope tied around your wrists anchored you to a nearby wooden pole. No chair was provided to sit upon, leaving you standing from how closely tied to the pole you were.

No food was offered either.

Your stomach growls for the umpteenth time in the past hour, your eyes glaring at the plates of food that were carried around the dining hall. It had been so long since you’d last eaten anything, the last meal you remember being the fish you had caught when the sun was just rising, and here it was, the sun having already set.

You could feel the gazes stuck on you like little pinpricks on your skin. That was one thing you were grateful for after living so many years out in the wild, your hunting and hiding skills had evolved into something much more than what was considered normal.

Trailing your gaze over the crowd of Vikings, you stop on Stoick, whose eyes are locked on you as they have been for the past few hours. His gaze was hardened as he ate while focusing only on you, not even looking over when other Vikings would come up and talk to him.

Deciding to keep your eyes on him as well, your wings twitch slightly in aggravation. You were hungry and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fly far away from this island until you were sure they could never find you again.

You felt taunted every time he took a large bite of his food. It was as if he knew exactly the effect it had on you, your irritation growing more and more. Before it could finally boil over, a presence invaded your bubble, and a hand entered your line of sight holding a bite-sized piece of meat.

Stoick’s glare harshens at whoever stands beside you. Finally breaking the staring contest between you, you’re met with familiar forest green eyes looking down at you with that soft gaze.

Hiccup was holding a plate piled high with food in one hand and a small piece of meat in the other hand. Glancing between his hands and his eyes, your brows furrow as confusion quickly overtakes your irritation.

He was… offering you food?

Instead of responding to your questioning look, he just continues to hold the piece of meat towards you, a small smile appearing on his lips as he nods towards the food, imploring you to take it.

You couldn’t seem to understand Hiccup. He was so different from the Vikings he was surrounded by. He didn’t seem motivated by war or bloodshed but by knowledge and curiosity.

He intrigued you just as much as you intrigued him.

Leaning forward cautiously, you take the meat from between his fingers before immediately chewing and swallowing. The taste was heavenly after years of bland fish and constant berries.

The next few minutes were filled with silence, just Hiccup holding out bites of food and you accepting them without complaint. Many Vikings stare at the scene with either repulsion or bewilderment, not understanding why the chief’s son would willingly help a creature unknown to them.

Your anger slowly dissipates with each bite swallowed, your belly filling with more food than you’ve eaten in a long time.

Soon, the plate was empty and you were satiated.

With no words spoken between you, Hiccup stares at you for a few seconds before he walks towards his father, dropping off the emptied plate with the pile of others. You watch as he leans to whisper something in the Chief’s ear, something that causes the larger Viking to quickly turn towards his son with a look of shock.

You wonder about their conversation, though you have a deep suspicion that it was about you, especially with how the father and son duo continuously glanced in your direction. They exchange words quickly and quietly, Stoick gestures somewhere with an annoyed look before Hiccup nods, smiling triumphantly.

Confusion blossoms within you, especially when Hiccup walks back over towards you and unsheathes a knife from his thigh holster. You pull your wrists away quickly when he goes to reach for them, his eyes meeting yours as his movements stop. Your eyes narrow into a glare with no heat behind them, and his hands hover in front of you.

“It’s okay. I convinced my dad to let you go for a flight, as long as the other riders are there too.”

His voice was as soft as his gaze was, and you felt yourself getting lost in it. It reminded you of the way your mother used to speak to you or the way your father used to look and speak at your mother. It was something that had become so foreign after so long without it.

A promise of a flight sounded like music to your ears, even if your every move would be watched.

A few silent seconds pass before you hold your bound wrists to him in a symbol of trust growing between the both of you, watching how his smile seems to brighten at this revelation.

There was that same feeling that fluttered in your chest. You couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite put a name to it.

But, oh, did you enjoy it.

No matter how much it also terrified you.

Hiccup grabs your hand while your mind is lost in thought, a small sound of shock leaving you from the sudden touch. He begins dragging you towards the large, wooden doors of the Dining Hall, calling out to a rowdy group off to the side.

When you go to look over at them, your eyes instantly lock on Astrid and your wings bristle against your back. Your mind plays back to how she was the one who had hit you over the back of your head with her axe, the spot throbbing as if an angering reminder of it. Her own eyes were squinted into a glare before she followed the group towards the doors as well.

Your lips twitch with the desperate need to want to snarl, a move you always did when you felt threatened, something you had learned from the dragon herd you lived with for so long.

The night wind brushing against your skin almost distracted you though.

Hiccup’s hand still held your wrist while leading you over towards the group of dragons with the riders following, Astrid’s glare prickling against your back the entire time.

Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the dragons, a beautiful mix of species that got along with each other better than they ever would in the wild. One by one their heads turn to look in your direction, Toothless and Stormfly specifically perking up at the sight of you.

Once you’re close enough, the two dragons you knew bound over with the others slowly trailing behind and a smile finally tugs at your lips for the first time in a while. Your hand slips from Hiccup’s hold, your focus entirely on the creatures.

These beings were familiar, you knew how to interact with dragons better than you ever could with humans. Fingers gently trailing across Stormfly’s chin, your smile brightens at the pleased chirp you receive before her head nudges against the bandages on your arm.

“It’s alright, I know you were just protecting your human.”

Your voice was a soft whisper while your other hand began to scratch at the top of Toothless’ head, a loud rumbling escaping from the dark dragon. You couldn’t hold it against them for trying to hurt you. You knew that the riders were a part of their pack and that dragons would do anything to protect their own.

Giving a little more scratches towards Toothless and Stormfly, and a few towards the other dragons, you finally look over towards the group of riders. The ones you didn’t know much of were staring in shock and Astrid’s glare remains with her arms crossed across her chest. Hiccup, though… his eyes held wonder.

The fluttering returns.

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of that feeling, but it doesn’t cease. You’re afraid it never will.

Instead of speaking, you just spread your wings in anticipation of flight, the dragons following suit. You watch with a small smile as the dragons rush over toward their riders, urging them onto their backs as if they, too, desperately want to join you in the air.

Waiting until at least Hiccup is mounted onto Toothless, your wings give a harsh flap before you’re rocketed off the ground. The wind against your face and the effortlessness it took to continue rising into the sky, your smile only widens more the higher you get.

You could hear the uncertain voices of the riders and the excited roars of the dragons. Everything was peaceful in the air, you could just shut off your mind and fly. You weren’t being watched by the people who had taken you from your island, you weren’t an orphan, you weren’t an outcast.

As your eyes flutter close, you stop flapping your wings and allow yourself to fall.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

would love to request a "friends to lovers" story between Hiccup and the reader.

They could have been friends since childhood, but I’m not sure what you think about the idea where, as they grow up, it becomes completely normal for them to hold hands or even share more intimate moments, like a kiss. (Don’t let it show how much I love this dynamic).

I’d love to see how you would develop this story (only if you feel like it, of course). I seriously ADORE your writing! Blessings and kisses, MUAK! ❤💗

One of These Days

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,740

You didn’t know when it started; maybe it had been when he’d smiled at you for the first time, or he’d held your hand, or leaned his head over yours. 

Tags:  httyd 1, httyd 2, friends to lovers

It was growing darker outside. 

Frigid air licked at the frame of your back, slithering and scraping past cracks in the walls and shutters. It tasted just as cool as it smelt.

You didn’t know when it started, nor were you sure how to feel about it, what with that odd thing sitting between the two of you. You could tell he expected something, what with the way he often shuffled closer than was necessary and fumbled over his own words in an effort to impress.

“Pass me the hammer?” He asked you without looking, lanky shoulders square, hands pressed against parchment, fingers sliding absentmindedly over scrawled-out charcoal and past thick-handled tools.

You snuffled, blinking from where you sat just beside him.

It was just to the right of you on one slightly uneven workbench, closer to the forge’s main window than away. You grabbed at it with slightly wobbly fingers, grimacing as it nearly fell from your hands.

At twelve winters, you still had some time left before you’d really be expected to bloody your hands, and by bloody your hands, you meant to be able to take down a full-grown dragon on your own.’ Of course, most children by now had done their fair share of slaughtering, both animals and otherwise, but none had been able to make it during a raid without help. While you hadn’t done any of it, putting you sorely behind, you were still fine.

For Hiccup, son of Stoick the Vast, feared dragon-killer, the deadlines were a little bit tighter.

You placed the hammer firmly, determinedly into Hiccup’s open palm, the tips of your fingers dragging against slightly sweaty skin.

Gobber had been generous enough to let you in. He didn’t often or ever stop the two of you from doing things. Even still, this was the first time you’d been invited into the forge, and he hadn’t said anything.

Hiccup had also been generous enough to invite you in. You hadn’t quite recognized the invitation for what it was, nor did you think Hiccup did, either. Really, the experience was proving to be rather close. It was the first time you’d ever seen him so enraptured in his work, though, to be fair, you hadn’t known him for long. He’d hardly talked about it.

You doubted he’d told anyone else- it was going to be a larger machine. He definitely didn’t have everything he needed to make it. Not the wood, which would make up a frame large enough to swarf half your body, or all the metals and ores he’d need to make all the levers and rods.

He wasn’t wearing any fur coat, just an apron and his green tunic. He scribbled notes down like the world might be swallowed if he didn’t. You could tell he’d never done that before- made such detailed instructions, thought up such an elaborate contraction.

You liked him happy. You’d seen him frustrated and you thought that was alright too, puzzling over his own work, tongue peeking out slightly from between two teeth, not comically. It was more a subtle, awkward thing.

With his back to you, he worked with a dedicated, single-minded focus, almost tireless. He worked from the moment he sat down to the moment he finished his task with a passion usually only meant for the battlefield, spotted in the eyes of the hungry past floating ashes and spraying gore. It was a passion that said that nothing had ever come natural to him.

He taught himself how to try.

You thought that he must be daring, more than any Viking warrior.

Maybe he wasn’t yet a man, but you could see the shadow of the man he would be-mature, confident, skilled, focused. The way he worked in the forge- his need to shoot down a dragon paled in comparison.

You wondered if anyone else would ever get to see him the way you did, red-and-orange firelight warming his cheeks.

He caught you looking and he smiled, something almost half-toothless and completely crooked, revealing brown-auburn hair made to glow in the light of the fires, spotted gaps in rows of teeth, freckles dusting over a nose’s bridge like speckles on bird’s feathers.

He spoke almost hesitantly, confusedly, as if he’d just realized he’d forgotten to respond, and hadn’t realized it was that important, or that you would have been expecting it, though that didn’t matter to you, because he’d hardly needed to, “Thanks.”

Even unsure, he was much more at home here than out in the open world.

You felt your head perk, shoulders dropping as a soft, gawky thing curled and writhed bashfully in your stomach, not unlike the way a worm reveled in soft, blooming dirt.

Wow.

It hadn’t occurred to you that during all of a fortnight, you hadn’t seen him smile. Now that you’d seen it, you weren’t sure how you’d ever lived without it. 

You thought you could feel the heat radiating from his body as you shuffled closer to him, your fingers curling around his bicep, slightly damp through thick cloth. Your legs were nearly brushing then, leather smock teasing against cloth trouser as you pondered what it might feel like to be handed back soft, honeyed flowers by those very same sooted hands.

You shifted, the grass beneath you wet, dew clinging to the sides of your skirt like a few shiny glass beads. You felt the warm sun against your face, tickling against small hairs and soft skin. Your journal was to your front, scratched up leather cover pressed to your hands, a charcoal stick laying abandoned across empty parchment.

Nearby was a trickling stream, water weaving past water, spraying hollowly against rocks and moss- you could have likened it to yourself and the feeling in your soul, knotting up your chest and mixing up all kinds of squishy insides.

The last you’d seen, Hiccup had been walking. Now, he was nearly falling over himself, legs jerking as his saddle’s straps and reins restricted the movement of his ankles. His shouts echoed around the whole cove, sound bouncing off cold, stone-basin walls.

His dragon slunk off in the distance, still apprehensive and avoidant. It hadn’t quite gotten used to you yet, which was fine, because you were alright with keeping your distance.

Even after you’d had your hand on its slightly-sticky snout, whenever you saw it, you thought of wide, razor-sharp maws and torsos torn from small bodies. A dragon was always going to be a dragon and they were very much deadly creatures- his reassurances of the fact that the Night Fury was just as harmless as any man did you no favors. After all, the only creatures as deadly as a dragon were, in fact, bears… and men. It made you nervous.

It had large, slitted serpent’s eyes, though its scales were flatter and its skin more leathery than warted or slimy as you’d expected from such a fearsome beast. Its face was oddly symmetrical and squat in an abhorrently off-putting way, its horns or fins or whatever else that came sproutings from its skull sort of floppy and bashful and sort of too-big and not-grown-into-yet, just like it’s bulky, soft-looking paws, sort of like Hiccup.

“T-Toothless!” Hiccup practically yowled, distressed and scolding as he fell over, face-planting into dirt and short grass, half helped-along by the wet nose of his dragon. The difference- you felt almost enraptured by it.

He was awful and very often sort of standoffish and sarcastic though not often crude. He was picky and sort of insensitive and he often trampled over boundaries like he was dancing hand-in-hand with trouble, except he didn’t know how to dance, and the hall’s fires hadn’t been lit in a while- not for a celebration, at the very least. 

In that moment, though, you remembered the way it felt to have his folded knuckle digging slightly into your shoulders as he nudged against you distractedly,  just out of view behind the wooden barricade as he was scolded by Gobber. There was something about it that you thought might be either meaningful or accidental that turned over something in your stomach, most particularly because -and not in spite of- the fact that it had come from such a scrawny, lanky, often very, very clumsy-footed boy. 

The way he’d seemed, looking off reminded you of his father a little bit. You saw it, really- all the good and awful parts of the Chief that he’d most definitely inherited, even when most others couldn’t see it. You were scared of it somewhat; of how confident it made him, how distracted and sort of brave-like he could be, even if it only ever ended up making things work for the worst.

Past all your yearning, aching, wanting, and needing-to-have-ings, it scared you just as much as you thought you could watch forever. Did he ever feel the same way about you?

You hadn’t noticed as Hiccup had untangled himself from his trappings. He must have though, and quickly, as during the time you’d spent thinking, he’d walked up close enough to you to cast a long shadow over your face, pulling you out of your own reverie. 

You blinked aimlessly as he settled down next to you. You spoke hesitantly, “So, uhm, how did the saddle…?”

“He didn’t let me put it on.” Hiccup grumbled petulantly. While nothing more or less than sort of scrawny, with the way you were slumping and the way he was sitting with his back straight, he looked sort of tall. It did nothing to erase the pout from his face or the nasal from his voice.

You started, squeaking as his dragon -for the dragon was most definitely his, now- stepped out from the shadows, melded to its back like a fresh set of armor as it stalked its way around the clearing, eternally predatory. 

Hiccup seemed to relax some as you leaned against him, sort of using his shoulder as a shield, scooting behind it as the Night Fury grew closer. You felt particularly offended, even as he let you drape his arm over your middle, leaving his hand dangling awkwardly in the air. Protect me!

“Wow. What did I do?” Hiccup asked, half-smiling, shifting where he sat, unintentionally pressing your shoulder into slightly jagged rock as he got comfortable.

Sometimes you caught him looking, eyes agonizingly blank though the rest of his expression looked to be somewhat soft, the corners of his mouth pressing into a sweeter-looking half-smile. 

You grumbled incomprehensibly as you felt yourself once again eclipsed by shadow, much bigger this time. 

You leaned harder against his shoulder, one hand coming to tangle in his sleeve. You eyed it apprehensively, feeling thin twine catch against the place nail met skin. He didn’t get it.

“Don’t leave me behind.” You said suddenly, abruptly. “Ever.”

Hiccup rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, freckles and thin fingers easily losing themselves under the mop of your hair.

“I-ah, yeah, okay.” Hiccup said, brows crinkled, slight confusion evident in his voice, though it didn’t seem any less calm or comfortable for it. He especially didn’t seem to mind as you clung closer to him, something in his face glowing a blotchy, raw pink. “Alright.”

You were in danger. Really, if enjoyment was all he could bother to feel for your predicament, then you took back all of your praises.

You scoffed miffed-ly at a brown, quirked, knowing brow. The devil- He was such a boy. 

It didn’t matter what configuration of the face you had or your height or size of hair color. That wasn’t what he thought of when he thought of you, at least not at first. 

He looked back at you, sitting in the grass, leaning behind him and he couldn’t help but to think about how pretty your smile was, the way the sun lay over the side of your face and made you look as if you were glowing. Something in his neck twinged as he did, probably sprung or pulled earlier while he was trying to wrestle the saddle onto Toothless.

You were smart- a lot smarter than him on a lot of fronts, though he was pretty ingenious on his own, something anyone, even you, was hard-pressed to match.

Now, he realized, you were just as squirrely as you were cynical.

He’d never really thought of you as someone that needed shielding. You were just as capable and incapable as him in equal measure… mostly. But  in that moment, the realization came to him that maybe you… wanted to be?

He looked at you as you muttered something foul under your breath, feeling the same way he did trying to figure out a puzzle and the same way he felt piecing axles, barrels, ropes and wheels together to make up something interesting.

There really wasn’t much else to it, was there?

Really, if that was what you wanted, Hiccup was anyone but the right man for the job, but, well, if you wanted him… Hiccup winced as you dug your nails into his arm, leaving what was probably a deep set of crescent-shaped imprints in his arm, even through his tunic.

Yeah, he still wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“It’s cold,” You mumbled absentmindedly, eyes shutting some as a breeze brushed over your cheeks and past your ears. 

You were right. It was chilly, of course, so high up in the watchtower. It was only your second time up there.

“Yeah…” Hiccup said, leaning closer to the fire.

The two of you bumped shoulders, using a spare piece of kindling like a chair. Your ankles were hooked together, tied like a knot in a rope. The sides of your legs were so closely pressed together that they were nearly flush, despite the fact that no one else was there besides the two of you, everyone else having long since packed up their things and left. He wasn’t sure what they’d talked about. He couldn’t remember.

Hiccup kept his eyes exactly where he shouldn’t, watching you.

Your eyes were half-lidded. You leaned over your knees more than not as you turned over a small, split spit, a chunk of lamb speared over one end, his fur coat draped over your shoulders, one hand clutching at the opposite, empty sleeve. You looked very pretty like that, contented.

“They’ve got to add some walls up here, you know,” You said, your head tilting upwards as you examined a particularly soft bit of meat, thumb sliding up your skewer as you tilted it slightly downwards. 

Wow. Hiccup’s eyes were half-lidded, even as he poked at the fires with a stick, nudging the ends of charred logs closer to the fire half-heartedly.

He could hold you by the waist and sway with you and touch your foreheads together and you could play-wrestle and fight in the grass but he couldn’t kiss you and tug his hands through your hair unless he was braiding it and it was driving him crazy. He didn’t want to or have to but now that he knew he could, he thought about it pretty often. He was a teenage boy and you were a teenage girl and he’d always been curious, so of course he’d considered it.

He needed to. He had for years with all the force of a child who’d just learned how to dream. It was- It was… The feeling was surprisingly moral, but no less impassioned.

“One of these days…” HIccup mumbled distractedly. 

One of these days. He thought that every morning, now.

Hiccup blinked, the two of you standing in front of each other, curling your fingers around each other, with your fingers still relaxed. It was comfortable, warm… easy. He turned it over in his head, again and again. 

The cheering of the arena was nearly deafening to his back, the sound of metal weapons crashing against cage bars grating to his ears. They wanted him, blood, the Nightmare… Astrid was waiting behind you, eyes burning holes into him with all the conflicted feelings of a lost warrior. Even past all that, it wasn’t hard, he found, to focus on you; the lines of your face, the soft and hard curves, each and every blemish and soft patch of skin.

Huh. He thought.

He leaned forward and pressed his face against your bowed head, your forehead touching his shoulder dully past thick brown furs. He felt the split of your hairline against the tip of his nose. His eyes were closed tightly shut.

He reveled in the feeling for the moment, taking in the way your hair felt against his cheeks and the way the leftover grasses and burnt wood and juniper left a scent that laid thick over your scalp, both dusty and spiced, a lot like pine.

Ultimately, he was doing this for Toothless, but now, today, he thought that he might be doing it a little for you, too.

The whistling of Toothless' -no, the Fury’s- wings nearly stunned him, loud enough to make it more difficult to think.

Hiccup nearly choked on wind as he gripped onto the handles he’d built into Toothless’ saddle. For a moment, he thought they wouldn’t hold. After all, one small strap of leather was nearly nothing against the full force of the Gods’ cursed offspring.

They had never gone this fast before, his body felt hollow, both as if he was being nailed to the back of his dragon and as if he might just float off at any moment. The feeling It made him cautious just as much as he was focused.

Even past all of that, the space to his back felt abhorrently empty, and not just because of the way they pierced through the sky. Your tears staining the back of his shirt as he and Toothless dived and shot… He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you cry before. He still hadn’t- it was silent for the most part, and he’d just felt it, really. If he ever had, it hadn’t been like this.

He couldn’t bring you up with him. He couldn’t. Just as he’d almost died in the ring, you had too.

It wasn’t merely a roar, more of a phenomenon, something that shook even the air around him. It was all-consuming and nearly inescapable. The Queen had followed.

Hiccup furrowed his brows and kept urging his dragon upwards.

Rain beat heavily against the roof of the Chief’s hut, making the world around you feel even more cold, weak and hollow. Thunder roared violently outside as the storm raged on.

“Hiccup,” You choked on air and spit and half a sob as you stared down at a sickly, freckled face, sweat running down both too-pale and blotchy red cheeks, staining his shirt dark. Freshly-changed bandages bled a deep crimson, changing with the color of hot blood and foul puss as his knees, one foot-less and the other not, jerked reflexively against the sheets of his blanket.

He’d been consistently out between long bouts of delirium and fever, his eyes rolling beneath his lids, just barely visible under the flickering light of a single, dying candle, twitching viciously. You clutched at Hiccup’s slick palm with both hands as he fitfully fought his way past conscious dreams.

You’d stayed- you’d stayed all night and day.

If dedication had ever really meant anything, if worship and hope and work had ever really meant a damn, if the Gods had ever been real and if their decree had ever meant anything, you hoped your will reached the heavens.

“Lass,” The Chief rumbled deeply from behind you, his heavy weight causing old floorboards to creak deeply as he shifted. 

You didn’t even have the energy to shake off the nearly unbearable heat of his father’s palm on your shoulder as you cried yourself nearly sick with tears and snot and spit gathering at every orifice. It was an ugly cry, an undignified, ungainly one, followed with all your fears and hopes and despairs.

You had your own injuries to tend to, yet you felt as if you couldn’t, not in that moment, not even if it meant that you’d have to be fighting off your own pains and fevers later, if you hadn’t already fallen under their grasp. The only thing you could do was watch and feel a need for Hiccup to be okay so deep it rendered you helpless. Ultimately, though, you knew his recovery had nothing to do with you.  

Hiccup’s dragon had left to cauterwal outside, to wail and wreak havoc and feast on the latest fisherman’s catch. He seemed less worried than you and the Chief but more worried than everyone else, and rightly so.

Suddenly, you started.

With a voice both intensely raspy and wet, Hiccup mumbled your name. It hadn’t been anything special, more a simple expression of his recognition, yet you sniveled as Hiccup clutched back at your hand, his grip weak compared to yours, his eyes dull with the force of his fever. For a very long moment, he held it.

“Hiccup.” You tried again.

The Chief’s hand tightened over your shoulder, squeezing already stiff and sore muscles.

The last time you’d seen his eyes, he’d been staring you in the face, mouth opening and closing pointedly and yet no words had come out. He’d dropped you then, right before rushing up into the sky on Toothless’ back.

Parts of you had been pinned by the rubble after and you had nearly been left behind. You could barely think past the pain, yet you still remembered how it felt to be left on the ground, hands clutched to your chest, mind completely fogged with pain and fear, hoping and hoping and hoping, cringing and in pain as the sky flashed. The terrifying outline of the dragon queen in the sky, smoke and fog larger than life, everyone certain Hiccup was going to die, himself most certainly… It seared a painful picture into your mind.

Part of you had been in danger, then. You weren’t anymore. Now, you really loved Hiccup Haddock, and you needed him to be okay.

He hoped you were safe. He didn’t know what he would do otherwise.

He couldn’t ever let you go. Never. Not until- Not unless he died, even if it hurt and his forehead felt weighted with the pressure of all the world’s fires.

[knomelooking]

You ever realize that hiccup from how to train your dragon as to have some insane dad lore. Like picture him in the great hall with his kids and Astrid shows up to have a blast from the past with his old sword of fire and he just real quick does his little spin moves and as nonchalantly as lore dads do states I made this with my friends in old berk having gone through countless prototypes I got this. And his kids just look at him and ask when did you make it? And he reply’s with a loving look to Astrid and says when we were on the edge with your uncles and aunts. As kids do they ask when was that? And hiccup still not realizing that in fact there father was dropping some major dad lore. So he continued reply with when we needed to explore more of the archipelago as a deranged Viking that threatened myself and berk. For the second time. Now his kids are just in utter shock as they realize they need to spend more time paying attention when grandpa gobber tells em story’s.

[jackshiccup]

despite knowing what was going to happen, snotlout's redemption and eventual downfall was so so heartbreaking to me. we spend the past 10 books witnessing how much he's tormented and bullied hiccup that we all feel the same anger and frustration and resentment as fishlegs does in the beginning of 11. i was, maybe, even rooting for something a little bad to happen to him so that he can feel even a fraction of the humiliation that he put hiccup through. but time and time again hiccup, with his inherent goodness and wonderful capacity to always try and see the best in people, reminds us that people need and deserve second chances. even third, fourth and fifth chances. even when hiccup was faced with the certainty that snotlout was set on betraying him from the start.

that's why it was so satisfying to get to the emotional catharsis of the swordfight. snotlout practically begging for hiccup to hate him and hiccup genuinely not having it in him to be able to. and even after that, even after he disarms hiccup and is seconds from killing him - he doesn't. and then hiccup comforts snotlout through it. he tells him words that snotlout didn't know he's been desperate to hear. he tells him he's being too hard on himself. he tells him he's a hero. he opens a door inside snotlout's life for the first time in a long time. despite everything, he offers him another choice to join the dragonmarkers. and snotlout accepts. he bows to hiccup, he calls him king, pledges his sword to his service forever, shakes his hand and chooses to bear the dragonmark.

and it's this moment we finally seeing the seeds of change planted in snotlout sprout - instigated by gobber teaching him a lesson in the amber slavelands and reminding him what the black star represents: pride, honour, bravery. all the times we see snotlout give in to vulnerability and ponder on his choices, he's always holding onto it. which makes it all the more symbolic when he hangs it around hiccup's neck during his last act of valour.

just like how the book tells us that the tides can change so fast, through hiccup, my heart was able to give snotlout another chance too. and it's because of hiccup's belief in snotlout's potential for more that makes you feel so strongly about his death. snotlout's excitement at finally being on hiccup's side, at doing what's right, at having the opportunity to actually be a hero - we can't help but feel that burst of pride, we can't help but root for him. and so we feel the loss, as hiccup did. and it's a point driven home when hiccup ends the epilogue with how he’s carried snotlout and his sacrifice with him all throughout his life. and how time has rubbed away at the black star.

that now the star doesn't look black at all. just gold.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

The Bachelor: Robin Edition by Vamillepudding

Gotham loses its Robin and Bruce Wayne loses a son. Tim finds one of these too tragic to bear. In his quest to make sure Bruce Wayne lives to see the next year, he strikes upon the perfect solution: another son.

-

His best bet is, naturally, Crime Alley.

By 8 pm that day, Drake Manor is filled with ten black-haired, blue-eyed boys sitting around the large dining table, looking around the room suspiciously.

Well. Eleven. But Tim doesn’t think he counts.

ATLA

Dish Duty by Princeliest

All Zuko had been trying to do was wash some dishes. Or: The one where Zuko and Katara both mean well, but still can't find their footing around each other in time to prevent explosive shouting, broken dishes, an impromptu arrest, and Team Avatar's third- nay, fourth jailbreak. Fifth? They've lost count at this point, but at least they're not willing to lose Zuko... now, if only he realized that.

Merlin

all oak and iron bound by numinousnumbat

Some of those born with magic are repelled by iron. Merlin wished he knew how much iron there was in Camelot before he started his new life there.

HTTYD

Abandon Hope Who Enters Here (everyone who enters here) by JaggedEmeraldsOfGold

Eret had spoken about the mindless cruelty of Drago’s base and soldiers, but there’s nothing like seeing it in front of her to make it really, really sink in. She’d wanted to empathize, but she doesn’t think she really understood.

She does now.

Astrid leans her head back until it hits the wall behind her, and blinks up at the ceiling.

It’s going to be a long three days.

Or: Instead of facing the Monstrous Nightmare in the Kill Ring, Hiccup packs up and leaves Berk on Toothless, defeating the Red Death on his own as he goes. Six years later, Hiccup has royally fucked up– Hiccup has severely underestimated Drago, and now Hiccup is cramped, tired, hungry, without his prosthetic, and he really, really, really misses Toothless.

Imagine his surprise (read: complete and utter dread) when he wakes up one day to see absolutely none other than Astrid Hofferson, Snotlout Jorgenson, Fishlegs Ingerman, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston sitting in the cell across from him.

against the wind by underpassgraffiti

When Hiccup and Snotlout get stranded, they have to work together to stay alive.

Easier said than done.

To End a War by GhostStone

Stoick may not listen to Hiccup, but there is one person he does listen to on occasion. And that one person just happens to be someone who will listen to Hiccup.

An AU where the night before he is meant to kill the dragon, Hiccup realized how awful his plan is and goes to Gobber for help.

the soul of a dragon by castelia

Soulmarks amongst humans are easily identifiable: they are words tattooed on skin, words to be spoken during the first moment where two people truly connect. No one believes dragons have soulmarks, let alone that a dragon and a human can share a soul bond.

Until Hiccup.

[sn0w-games]

My thoughts after Chapter 7

Spoilers for Tokyo Debunker below please continue with caution:

WOWIE WAS CHAPTER 7 A GOOD ONE!!!

I can say that Mortkranken is a very interesting dorm. And I could be bias because it's a shade of a blue or blue/green I like, but it's coming my favorite.

I know I pick and push calling Jiro a slut but it was mostly based on looks alone. Now actually seeing his character in play I can finally form an opinion on these two characters.

Opinions on Yuri and Jiro :

Jiro - Looks alone he was the one who stood out to be the most, I have a type of liking either assholes or dark gloomy guys in series and seeing Jiro was the cake on top ~ I enjoy seeing him fight and work, learning about him and his illness too was a plus side and I hope to learn more about his character even if it's a side mini thing I hope he returns in the main story.

Yuri - Not gonna lie, I knew his character looks seemed familiar turns out a buddy of mine sent me a photo of him and I proceeded to call him a teal hair Azul Ashengrotto - I do not apologize. I honestly adore this man with my being. He is a bit of a gobber but he is very smart ( obviously he is a doctor). He makes me giggle a bunch so I will definitely be thinking of him.

My thoughts on chapter 7:

I was actually happy that I didn't have to wait long for the Chapter since from when I got into Tokyo Debunker for the first time. Jumping into a new chapter for the new dorm is always exciting even after all we learned in the game up till now. I knew the MC curse wouldn't be solved so easily since now there is a marking on her neck, but it was a good way to introduce Mortkranken into the story line and the characters along with it.

However with the mutated anomaly was a freaky thing itself. But it was perfect in its own way. But I wished they gave us a sprites for the zombies. After Chapter 2, the way they made one for Takeru's ghost the details and the way he moved was so chilling it made me snapped back to the thoughts this had some horror themes to it.

The anomalies in Chapter One weren't scary but they had their own sprites like the characters and they also moved too, if you look closely you can see them swaying, better view as it is looking at their hands. I kind of wished they revisited the idea of Takeru's ghost sprites / it moving to the zombies in Chapter 7. I feel like it would give the players more of an eye opener or give the player some sort of thrill chill.

I won't sit here and complain about that, we can't all have what we want to think, but I think it would have been a nice idea.

Details I liked in Chapter 7:

I will keep this one short and simple:

Finally learning the anomaly name of the one who cursed MC, Kyklos.

Zenji being Jiro's brother

Zenji name being Taro Kirisaki ( does Jiro even remember him? Someone please let me know)

How bright and colorful the lab in Mortkranken was.

Jiro <3

Jiro and Yuri's relationship <3

The tree Towa was caring for getting better but worse at the end ;-;

Towa SPEAKING AGAIN his voice is WAHHHHH✨

Also Gala is on board

ALSO WHATEVER TAIGA WAS WEARING HELLO?! SIR?!

If you read this far thank you so much!!! I'll make a separate post on my theories, I am just tired and mad that it got deleted mid-post.. I'll make a whole new post on it later it's past 3am and I wanna unwind for a bit after playing. If you wanna ask me things please direct them to my Ask/Submissions in my bio <3

[starrycosme]

Tbh, I had never seen how to train your dragon 3 before cause I knew I probably wouldn't like it, since it seemed to be centered around Toothless' love interest. But, when I started a rewatch of the movies, I decided I would watch the entire trilogy.

I find myself a bit underwhelmed, ngl. I feel like all this movie centered around one theme: everyone has to pair up past a certain age, or it's sad, and we can't have sad!!!! It's a kid's movie (look how many silly lighthearted jokes haha.) What's more, we get to the conclusion that abandoning your friends to live your life with your significant other is for the best, which I find upsetting in so many ways as an aroace person.

The light fury was supposed to be identical to Toothless, instead we're left with a no-personality Disney princess of a dragon. The villain is downright plain compared to the antagonists in the other movies. Anyway, that's not really the point of this post.

The main themes of this movie are so heteronormative that I received psychic damage by watching it. I really don't care how many wink, wink, Gobber's gay, look how progressive we are jokes they make (without ever once acknowledging it fr), that doesn't erase the fact that this entire movie revolves around the fact that, to have a happy ending, the two best friend protagonists had to be separated. Because, obviously, having a romantic relationship is way more important than a years long friendship which was the focus of the entire franchise.

[p-artsypants]

The Pale Rider (3) Friendship in it Loosest Definition

The Isle of Berk is cursed. Like, extremely cursed. It has been for generations. The extent of the curse has been forgotten over time, but no descendants of the original village are able to leave the island, lest they suffer a gruesome fate. Three years ago, the Blacksmith invited the Pale Rider to town. He’s a creature that’s haunted the forest and childhood campfire stories for centuries. Now, he arrives every day at noon. One day, Astrid Hofferson decides to be brave and talk to him. He’s actually really nice…for an eldritch abomination. A Beauty and the Beast AU.

Merry Early Christmas!

Ao3

--

Astrid stood at the docks. A trader had arrived, one of several that stopped in their little village. This man, Johann, was much less superstitious than some of the others, but he still refused to stay at the Inn for more than a day. 

Astrid was waiting her turn to look at his wares. 

“Ah yes! Furs found nowhere else! Look at this sheen, how rich and luxurious the hair is! I actually got it in a very particular trade. The trapper worked a lot for it, you see—” And he was off. 

Astrid sighed. She’d been waiting for an hour, a pot of flowers heavy in her arms. Of course, she had coin too, but Johann was often receptive to her live plants, especially if they had a secondary purpose like healing or food. Today, she had brought a large amaranth, a wheat alternative that could be used to make red dyes. She hoped this would be worth a lot of seeds and spices. 

By time she made it back to town, heavily laden with her spoils, it was closer to midday, well past noon. The Rider had come and gone. It couldn’t be helped, she supposed. 

Not that she cared, of course. She’d mostly tackled her fear of the Pale Rider, which had been her goal, and it mattered little if she saw him ever again. 

She dropped her goods off at home and made herself and her mother a late lunch, and then returned to her cart for the late crowd. 

Except, all her flowers were gone. Every bouquet had been taken. 

She began to panic, thinking she had been robbed. She simply couldn’t! What flowers she had were precious, and she needed to sell as many as she could. 

Before she could yell for Snotlout, she realized there was a cup upside down on the surface of the stall. 

Odd, she couldn’t remember that being there earlier. As she picked it up, a dozen gold coins slid and spread out. Enough coins to pay for all the flowers and then some. 

Someone had bought out her entire stock while she was gone. 

She scooped the coins into her purse, head spinning all the while. Who would have done such a thing? Snotlout? Perhaps, she could see him doing that. Maybe even Dagur, as a way to show favor. 

Briefly, she considered the Rider, but what kind of money did he have? He had no way to earn it, so why bother buying all her flowers? Unless Toothless had made a buffet of her stall and he felt bad. 

If he could feel guilt, that is. 

Whoever it was, she had to find out. This was way too much gold, and she refused to be indebted to anyone. 

“Afternoon, lass,” Gobber hobbled over. “Haven’t seen your cart so bare since Svenson’s wedding a few years ago.” 

She whirled on him. “Did you see who did it? They left coin to cover it, but I simply can’t take it all.” 

He scratched his chin. “Nope, didn’t see a thing. And you certainly have plenty of admirers that would pull something like this.” 

Astrid groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m grateful, but…they didn’t have to do this. And…” She hated admitting it outloud. “I hope they don’t think this changes anything. I’m not interested in any of them. Not Snotlout, not Dagur, and not any of the older boys that shouldn’t be looking at me like they do.” 

“But you have to admit, it’s a pretty big favor.” 

“I know!” She shook her fist at the sky. “I’m not impressed, boys! You hear me?! I’m not impressed!” 

Gobber smirked at her antics. Once she settled down, he said, “he asked about you.” 

“Who?”

“The Rider.” 

Her face colored and she stammered. 

“Don’t worry, I told him what you were up to, and that you missed him and wished you could have seen his lovely face.” 

“You did not!” 

He laughed. “Not really, but I did tell him where you were. He seemed to be simply curious, since you had taken it upon yourself to talk to him the last two days.” 

She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I simply chose to no longer be afraid of him, like you. To get over that fear, I had to talk to him, like you. So really, this is your fault.” 

“Lass, you’re a riot.”

“I’m serious!” She huffed and leaned against the cart. “You know Gobber, ever since mother got sick, I started having these horrible nightmares. In them, the Pale Rider would come to my house and silently take my mother away. I think it’s because of the rumor he was the devil or the grim reaper. But…I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. That’s why I talked to him.” 

“And?” 

“No more nightmares so far. It’s only been a few days.” 

“Well, good for you, lass. I’m proud of you! If only everyone in this village had that initiative, no one would have to be afraid of him.” He nudged her. “We might even be able to put our heads together and figure out a way to lift this whole damn curse.” 

“You think so?” 

“Maybe! Or maybe there’s several curses on the island, or maybe he’s the responsible party! Who knows?!”

It was really quite the mystery, one she didn’t know if she had the time or energy to unravel. 

Maybe once her mom—

No. She shouldn’t think about it like that. For now, she would continue as things were. The Rider was now a customer like everyone else, and possibly one of her favorites. 

Not having any other reason to stay out, she went home for the day, surprising her mother. 

“I’m home!” 

“Astrid!” Phlegma called. “Why, you’re home so early!” 

“Yep, someone, though I have a few guesses who, bought out my stock. All of it!” 

“My my! Someone’s certainly trying to impress you! Perhaps a proposal is in the future?” 

“Don’t make me sick, mother! As soon as I figure out which one of them did this, I’m giving them a piece of my mind!” 

There was a knock at the door. 

“And their change!” She added, as she went to answer. She was very surprised to find the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut looking at her very crossly. “What?” 

“What did you do?” Ruffnut poked her. 

“Me? I haven’t done anything! It’s Dagur or Snotlout that are up to something!” 

“Oh really?” Said Tuffnut. “Do you know what happened to us today? We got a commission.” 

“…I know you guys don’t like to work, but isn’t that a good thing?” 

Ruffnut shook her head. “It’s from the Pale Rider.” 

Astrid smirked. “Oh, so you think I told him to pay you a visit, hm? Well sorry to disappoint you, but he did that on his own. What? Afraid to take his measurements and find out how messed up his proportions really are?” 

Again, Ruffnut shook her head. “No, Astrid…the commission was for you.” 

Astrid felt cold suddenly, as the blood fled from her extremities and settled unpleasantly in her gut. “What?” 

Tuffnut had a garment bag slung over his shoulder, and he brought it around so she could see. “He brought this dress, and wanted us to fit it to you.” 

She almost didn’t want him to open the bag. What would it be? A wedding dress? A funeral dress? Oh that would be just swell! Have her fitted for a dress to be buried in. 

But it was none of those things. It was a light blue cotton dress. It would hang off the shoulders, and flair out at the bottom. It had intricate gold embroidery around the neckline, made up of little roses. 

“Oh my…” 

“And it’s a really nice quality fabric too!” Ruffnut cried. “It had to be so expensive!” 

“I don’t…I don’t know…” Astrid stuttered. 

“Welp,” Tuffnut crossed his arms. “Nothing to do but to fit it.” 

“But—!” 

“He already paid, Astrid! And what are we supposed to do? Tell the Pale Rider no?!” 

She understood where they were coming from. 

“Ooooh fine!” 

She allowed them to work, pinning the dress to her size, but she felt awkward about it the whole time. 

—-

The next day, Astrid was ready. She had picked new bouquets early in the morning and was ready to sell. Dagur didn’t come around, and she was grateful for that, but suspicious. Maybe he was avoiding her because he was guilty. 

No, Dagur wasn’t capable of guilt. 

Snotlout had passed by, but only called a friendly greeting, seemingly too busy to chat. 

Also suspicious. 

Then it was noon, and she had an entirely other matter to deal with. 

She watched the Rider saunter down the road, making his way right at her this time. At first, she was indignant. How dare he be so forward as to buy her a dress! But then, she felt that cold grip of dread. What did he want? 

Toothless stopped a few feet away, and the Rider got off, walking up to her and looming over her like a great dead tree. “Miss Hofferson, you’re here today.” 

“I am,” She said sternly. 

As she mulled over how she was going to ask about the dress, he asked, “did I leave enough coin yesterday?” 

Her legs felt weak. “Th-that was you?” 

He nodded. “I brought more, if needed.” 

“Then—what about the dress?” She pointed awkwardly down the road towards the tailors’.

He hummed and answered, “because a beautiful creature such as yourself deserves a beautiful dress.” 

Astrid flushed warmly; flattered, embarrassed, indignant. “No!” She snapped. 

“No?” 

“No! I don’t want it!” She took the extra gold out of her pocket and thrusted it into his cold hands. “And I’m not a charity case! I will not take your handouts!” 

Most of the coins clattered on the ground, while the Rider just stood there awkwardly holding two coins in his hand. He stood there, too long for Astrid’s taste. 

“What did I do wrong?” He asked, his voice soft, and dare she say, hurt. 

“You are just like all the other boys on this island! Trying to impress me with gifts! Well I won’t stand for it, you know! I am an independent woman, and I can take care of myself and my mother! I’m not interested in marriage to you or anyone else!” 

The Rider continued to stand there, looking at the coins. Finally, he twirled them around his fingers, and they vanished. “Miss Hofferson, I apologize, but you misunderstand me.” 

She frowned. 

“I sincerely do not believe I have the capacity for such emotions as love or romance.” 

Astrid began to unfurl her fingers. 

“The dress was a gift, but I merely meant it as a token of goodwill. I am trying to … be a part of this village, and have not had any reason to see the tailors. I cannot take this off.” He gestured to his cloak. “But I have had that dress in my home for a long time. I thought it suited you.”

“You called me beautiful,” she weakly argued.

“It is simply a fact.” 

How much of a narcissist was she that she assumed every act of kindness towards her had ulterior motives. She started to shrink back, shame weighing her down. “And…the flowers?” 

“My mother…loved the bouquet you picked out. She wanted more. I decided to bring her everything.”  

Astrid felt her mouth drop open. “You have a mother?”

“Yes. And a father. Did you…also think I popped out of the ground like a scary tulip?” 

Astrid never considered the idea that there were more of him. 

“I’d say you were more like a snapdragon,” she chuckled at her little inside joke. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Um,” she looked through her current bouquets until she found one, removed it, and handed it to him. It was a flower with a long black stem, with a series of lush red blooms at the top. “When they die, they look like skulls.” She explained. 

“Oh.” He twiddled the flower in his hands. “Pretty.” 

“Are your parents like…?” She gestured at him, top to bottom. 

“You just gestured to all of me.” 

“Sorry, I can’t find the words.” 

“Cursed? Yes.” 

She meant ‘apparitions of inconceivable horror’ but cursed worked too. “They live with you?” 

“Yes.”

“Where?” 

He tilted his head, and gave her that unseen look like she had asked a stupid question. He pointed at the mountain. “The castle.” 

“Oh, right…that should have been obvious, I guess. Only other structure outside of town and all…I just always assumed that the castle was crumbling and unstable, so no one went there.” 

 He shook his head. “It’s not crumbling or unstable, but it is dangerous. I would not explore it.” After a moment of consideration, he looked at her. “I will ask the twin tailors to burn the dress.” 

“What?!” She balked. 

“Yes, it has obviously distressed you. I will destroy it.” 

“No!” She reached out and grabbed his cloak before he could move. The fabric was tangible, but felt damp and like fog. She let go immediately, her hand somehow still dry. “No. No, it’s okay. Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of trying to bribe me. I actually really loved the dress. Just this once, I’ll go along with it. But…don’t make it a habit. There are others who will see it as more than what you said and it’ll be a mess.” 

“I understand.” He crouched, and even bent all the way over, he was nearly as tall as her. He placed the coins that had fallen on the cart. “A tip, I think.” 

“This is more than a tip. Way too much.” She shook her head and pushed the coins towards him. 

“Gobber said money is tight for you and your mother.” 

He had remembered? “It is, but I really don’t like accepting charity.” 

“If you want to be my friend, you will take it,” he demanded, his tone offering no room for argument. 

Astrid glared at the coins, and then swiped them up. “Fine!” Then she pointed at him. “That was a dirty trick. Again, don’t make it a habit!” 

He placed a hand over his flaming heart. “You have my word, Miss Hofferson.” 

“And call me Astrid!” 

“Of course…Astrid.” 

Then she smiled, genuinely smiled. “I could use a break. Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?” He asked. 

She beckoned him down the road. “I want you to meet someone.” 

“Oi!” Gobber called from the other direction. “You’re taking my best customer again! That’s just not fair, Astrid!” 

“Hello Gobber,” the Rider said, stoically. 

“Hi lad!” 

“He’ll be back in a little bit,” Astrid waved him off. “You won’t even notice!” 

Hesitating a moment, the Rider tugged on Toothless’ reins and started walking where Astrid was going. 

Astrid slowed her walk when she realized he wasn’t keeping up. As she looked back, she watched him stagger, as walking seemed to be difficult for him. “Are you alright?” 

“I lost my leg,” he explained. “A long time ago.” 

Against her better judgment she asked, “how?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?”

“It was a long time ago.” 

“Sure, but…it’s your leg! It’s kind of significant! It's not like the name of your childhood neighbor or something.” 

After a beat, he said, “it was over 300 years ago.” 

“You know, I’m starting to suspect that you’ve lived a whole other life that you don’t even know about.” 

“That’s accurate.” 

“Do you remember anything?” Not that it was her business, especially since it was so new in their friendship. 

“A little bit.” He answered. 

“Like…?”

“Toothless.” 

Right. The horse, who at one time had retractable teeth. 

“You’re pretty close. You care a lot about him.”

“Yes.” 

The Rider really wasn’t one for offering up answers, she learned. Perhaps that’s why Gobber didn’t know much about him even after all these years. She’d just have to figure out the right questions.

The Bookshop came within sight, and Astrid went ahead. “Wait right here.” 

He halted in movement, his tall form swaying slightly. 

Astrid entered the shop, a little bell sounding her arrival. 

“On my way!” Fishlegs called from the back. The store was packed full. Every wall, from floor to ceiling, was full of shelves. Then, two aisles filled up the middle, and even those seemed to sag with the weight of the tomes. 

Fishlegs emerged from storage and carefully scooted through the aisles. “I thought I’d see you today. I pulled that book I recommended for your mom. I have it right up at the counter.” 

“That’s great Fishlegs! While I’m here, I want you to meet someone.” 

Fishlegs turned to her, frowning. It’s not that he was unfriendly, but Berk wasn’t the type of place you met people. 

A shadow passed over the window. 

“Oh Thor, you don’t mean…” 

“Yeah! He’s nice!” She went to the door and beckoned him in. “Rider, Fishlegs! Fishlegs—” 

The creature bowed to fit through the door, and lurched forward in a swaying gait. Then stood at its full height, antlers nearly touching the ceiling. His eyes shone like candles in the dim light. 

“---The Pale Rider.” 

Fishlegs trembled at the sight, whimpering and sniveling in sheer terror. “A-A-Astrid!? Did you really have to bring him—” 

The Rider stuck out a long, ugly, knobby hand. 

Fishlegs squeaked. “---here?”

“Nice to meet you, Fishlegs.” He spoke in a rolling, gravelly voice. 

“N-n-nice to meet you too, M-M-Mr. Rider.” 

After a moment, seeing that the boy was not going to shake his hand, the Rider withdrew back into his cloak. “Your shop…it’s nice. I like it.” 

Fishlegs swallowed. “Uh, thanks. It-it-it’s my uncle’s. I just work here.” 

“Do you mind…if I look around?” 

“No, no go ahead!” 

The Rider nodded once, and then turned and stared at a shelf. 

“Astrid!” Fishlegs hissed, still gripped in terror. “Are you trying to kill me?!”

“Relax Fishy, he’s harmless.” 

The Rider took a book off the shelf, studied it, nodded, then put it back. 

Snotlout peered in the shop. “I saw his horse! Is he—?!” 

Startled by this new voice, the Rider whipped around to look at the doorway. 

Snotlout reeled backwards, also startled. “Gah! Eugh! You’re even taller in person! And uglier!” 

Astrid wanted to punch him. 

The Rider observed Snotlout for a moment, before responding, “thanks.” 

Pushing his terror aside, or most of it at least, Snotlout puffed up his chest in that way that he did in an effort to be intimidating. “Snotlout Jorgenson! I’m the guard in this district! You give anyone any trouble, and—” he gulped. “An-and I’ll be ripping that mask off your face!” 

Not one of his better threats, Astrid noted. 

The Rider leaned down, coming closer to Snotlout. The lights in the room almost seemed to dim. Even the sunlight through the window wasn’t as bright. 

In a voice much darker than she had heard yet, the Rider told Snotlout, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Snotlout went pale, and licked his dry lips. “W-w-well, don’t give anyone any trouble, and I won’t!” 

Satisfied, the Rider straightened back up, and returned to looking at the books. 

Snotlout seemed to not be satisfied, however, as he visibly thought through his next attack. 

“Snotlout, just give it up,” Astrid chastised. 

He ignored her. “And another thing!”    

The Rider tilted, meeting his glare with a piercing green eye. 

“That’s my woman,” he pointed at Astrid. “So don’t get any funny ideas about capturing her for some freaky deaky ritual, you got it?! You’re like a gabillion years old!” 

“Snotlout,” Astrid exasperated. 

The Rider just shot back, “what kind of ritual do you think I’d need her for?” 

Was that…supposed to be a joke? 

“D-I’dunno! The freaky kind! Where you like…steal her soul or some shit!” 

“Interesting,” he murmured. “That’s what they think of me.” 

“Okay Snotlout,” Astrid intervened again. “You’ve made your point. Now be nice. Rider is harmless, and he wants to make friends.” 

“Babe, things like that don’t make friends,” he condescended. 

“I’m not your babe, or your woman,” She snipped. “And Rider is my friend, and you will be nice to him!” 

Before Snotlout could retort, two more figures stood in the doorway. 

“We saw the demon horse from across the street and knew there was a party going on,” said Tuffnut. 

The Rider turned and greeted them. “Tuffnut,” he nodded to him. “Ruffnut,” he nodded to her. 

“Aw, he remembered our names,” said Ruff. 

“What a nice guy,” said Tuff. 

“Shut up, you two!” 

Astrid vaguely wondered if they had been eavesdropping. 

“When did you muttonheads meet Sir Spooksalot?” 

“Yesterday,” said Tuff. 

“Yeah, when he commissioned us to make a dress for Astrid.” 

Astrid went red. “Guys! A little discretion please?” 

“No thanks, I don’t touch the stuff,” said Tuff. 

Snotlout looked between Astrid, the twins, and the Rider, then blurted out, “I wanna commission a dress for Astrid too!” 

Astrid scoffed and rolled her eyes. Predictable.

“Okay,” said Tuff. “That’ll be 40 gold pieces.” 

“40 gold pieces!?” Snotlout objected. “You could buy a house with that!” 

Tuffnut shrugged. “No gold, no dress. Rider forked it up.” 

Astrid gaped at him. “You paid 40 gold for a fitting!?” 

The Rider lowered his head slightly, confused why she was upset. “It was the price they gave me.” 

“Do you not know the value of money?” 

“No.” 

It explained why he had left so much for her when he took her stock. 

“Can I borrow ten gold?” Tuffnut asked, holding out his hand. 

Astrid smacked it away. “Don’t you dare take advantage of him! That’s awful! Your greed will get you in trouble one day, and none of us will be there to bail you out.” 

“Yeah,” said Snotlout. “The Rider will come to collect his debts and you’ll have to pay…with your life,” He said the last part in a gravelly voice, imitating the Rider. 

“I should go,” the Rider said suddenly. “I would like to see Gobber.” 

“But—” said Astrid, a little disappointed by his abrupt departure. 

He turned to Fishlegs. “May I come again?” 

“Uh…yeah, sure, that-that’s absolutely fine.” 

“Thank you. It was a pleasure.” He lumbered passed them, a cold, spine-chilling gust hitting them all as he went. Toothless whinnied, and then he was gone. 

“Nice job,” said Astrid, sarcastically. 

Fishlegs continued his whimpering and sniveling. “I invited him back! He’s going to come every day like he does with Gobber!” 

“Maybe,” Astrid shrugged. “So maybe you’ll get used to him.” 

“Whoa, Fishlegs is totally having a panic attack.” 

“Don’t you muttonheads have a dress to alter?”

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

(prev)

When Hiccup returns to the hut, he finds their guest awake, and sitting up. That's good. That's an improvement. Before Hiccup could take a better look at the guy, Gothi parks herself in front of him.

"He's delicate," she scribbles on the ground. "The seas left its mark. Don't excite him too much." She punctuates those last two words with a tap of her walking stick.

Hiccup lifts both hands up. "Alright, okay! I'll be careful! You make it sound like I'm gonna give him a heart attack!"

"Are you?" A low voice croaks out.

Hiccup turns to face their guest. And yeah, okay. He gets where Gothi's coming from. The guy looks like he's two steps from entering Hel or Valhalla, probably Hel from the looks of him. He's thinner than Hiccup, but then again, Hiccup has filled out a little. He's got honest-to-Thor biceps now. But this guy - Hiccup has seen chickens with more meat on their wings than this guy has in his arms. And he's deathly pale, which makes sense given the circumstances. Seriously, Hiccup could trace the guy's veins - blue, nearly black, against his skin. Hiccup never had the good fortune of seeing a dead body - not the way Ruffnut and Tuffnut keep saying they have. But Hiccup hopes this guy will be the closest he'll ever get.

And yet... The weirdest part about this guy has to be his face. Hiccup can't figure it out but there's just something really weird about his face. It wasn't the eyes or the hair, both colored a common as dirt brown. So what...

"If you keep making a face like that, you'll really give me a heart attack," the guy murmurs, cutting through Hiccup's thoughts.

"I think you can manage one without any help..." Hiccup replies.

The guy snorts. "I'm feeling better if you can believe it." He nods at Gothi. "Can she talk? All she's done this whole time is stare at me. I swear I never saw her blink."

"Yeah... She does that. But um... good, I mean, about your uh health. Glad to hear it." Hiccup rubs the back of his neck. He's supposed to ask the guy more about himself, but outside of a straight up interrogation, he's never been good at the 'let's get to know each other' kinda stuff. They shoulda sent Gobber to do this, now there's someone that can get folks to tell stories. But Dad says it's all part of his Chief training, whatever that means.

"Thanks for pulling me out of the ice," the guy says. "This was mighty kind of you, and really, if there's any sort of payment I can offer, just let me know? Unless, I mean, my Mom spoke to you already?"

"Your... Mom...." Hiccup echoes. He can feel his face freezing up. His Mom? But there was never - They couldn't even find a shipwreck.

"Yeah, you know. A woman that looks kinda like me, almost like we're related or something." The guy goes on.

Hiccup's throat dries up and he clenches his jaw. This guy washed ashore with nothing but the strange clothes on his back. They figured him for dead before he started coughing like he was trying to throw up his lungs. It was... Yeah, Hiccup doesn't like remembering it too much. If this guy was that bad, then anyone else would be...

"And she keeps calling herself too old or that I'll give her gray hairs, but really she doesn't look a day over a hundred." The guy chuckles, or tries to, mostly he makes this wet, wheezing noise.

Hiccup opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. "We... There was no one else in the water..."

He braces himself for the guy to start wailing, to froth up a rage - some kind of strong response. But the guy just tilts his head. And oh. Hiccup gets it now - the thing that's been bothering him about this guy's face. He's always kinda smiling. As if a grin is permanently pasted on his face, even when his hands are balled into fists, even when his shoulders are drawn in tight, even when there's literally nothing about him that matches a smile.

"Well... That's good, right? I was the only one in the water then. But so... Does my Mom know I'm here? Does my sister?"

Okay. Well. Now Hiccup's just confused. "No... How would we reach out to your family? Do they live nearby?"

"Uh... Yeah? I mean, maybe? Do you guys live anywhere near Hawthorne?"

"I... have never heard of that place."

"What? No. That can't be right. Hawthorne's barely the size of a village, sure, but it's the only settlement for miles!"

Hiccup slowly shakes his head. "No... I don't remember hearing of someplace like that."

At last, the guy's grin falls away as he scowls at the blankets. He chews on his lip, clearly thinking hard.

Hiccup tries to remember if he's ever heard of a Hawthorne. But he comes up blank. "I can -"

"Where is-"

They share a look. Now it's Hiccup's turn to crack a grin. "You first."

The guy blinks. "Oh, uh... I was um... Where am I now? Where is this?"

"Berk."

When the guy just gives him a blank stare, Hiccup folds his brow. Berk's been making a name for itself since they started the whole dragon co-existence thing. Surely, this guy would have heard all the rumors about them. Thor knows, they've been suffering the consequences from all that attention.

But this guy - there's not a shred of recognition in his expression. He could be faking it. Or 'the seas left its mark', as Gothi put it. Hiccup really wants to give him the benefit of doubt here.

"Berk, one of the isles in the Barbaric Archipelago? Home to the Hairy Hooligan tribe? No? None of that sounds familiar?"

The guy wordlessly shakes his head, fear starting to twist his face. Okay. That's not ideal.

"Is that... Is that anywhere near the New World?" The guy asks, his knuckles going white as he squeezes the blankets with both hands.

Gothi makes an irritated tap of her walking stick. Hiccup ignores her.

Did this guy just say the 'New World'? But that's just an old mariner's tale. And even if it was true, it's definitely nowhere near Berk.

The look on Hiccup's face must give him away because the guy locks up, eyes going wide, limbs closing tight and stiff.

"H... How... But I was just there! The pond was right by my village! How did this happen?!"

And that, Hiccup thinks, is the real question. Either this guy is a really good actor or he really has no memory. When he starts breathing faster, clutching his chest like it hurts, Hiccup makes a decision.

Dodging Gothi's stick, which tries to keep him away, Hiccup crouches next to the bed, putting himself at eye level with their guest. "Hey, we can figure this out, okay? You'll be back with your Mom in no time. Just... Just hang in there... Uhm..."

The guy looks at him, and there's that smile again - completely out of place given that he's literally one heartbeat away from a breakdown. "Ca-Call me Jack. And you?"

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. But everyone calls me Hiccup."

[henrytanael19]

(Back in the cove, Hiccup stands with crossed arms, watching something out of sight.

Hiccup: “Maybe this wasn’t my best idea.”

Toothless picks his head up off the ground to look, and then settles back into his nap, uninterested.

In front of them, the Nightmare roars, flaming up to incinerate spikes from the Nadder. The fire sets a cloud of Zippleback gas on fire, filling the cove with a blast that knocks the Gronkle out of the air. The dragon slams into a small tree, splitting it in two, and rises, snapping its jaws. The pile of fish they are fighting over lies forgotten in all the snarling.

Gobber hisses. “Yikes.”

Stoick laughs. Hiccup’s past face is full of regret. Stoick wishes he could tease him for biting off more than he could chew.)

My fanart for rosetta_46's HTTYD Fic run past the rivers, run past all the light...

Chapter 14: I Know About Her

I hope you like it!! I really wanted to draw the other dragons but I struggled with their positions, I have the vision for it, I just don't have enough artistic skills to pull it off. Just imagine it, I guess.

Hiccup was probably wearing his hood here, but I forgot and got too attached to the way I shaded his vest so 🤷.

[loverofwhump216]

A Man and His Dragon

Summary: Stoick and Thornado reunite

Halfway through the flight back home, Hiccup noticed the gang was being followed. He took out his spyglass and turned around to get a better look at who was behind them. Roughly fifty yards away were four familiar shapes. The dragon rider just smiled and faced forward again, thinking, Dad's going to love this.

As the gang landed in the town square, cheers erupted in celebration of their latest victory. Hiccup dismounted Toothless and handed the King of Dragon's egg off to one of the hatchery hands. "Keep this safe until the Wing Maidens arrive. They know someone who can care for the egg."

The hatchery hand took the egg and headed to the caves.

"Hiccup," a voice called out from the crowd. Hiccup turned toward the voice and saw Gobber pushing past everyone, grumbling at them to make way.

"What's wrong, Gobber?" Hiccup asked, feeling his heart drop.

"You need to head home. It's your father," Gobber replied.

The Rider didn't wait for an explanation and broke into a run towards his house, Toothless and Astrid hot on his heels, er, heel. He had forgotten all about the four figures that were following them and hadn't bothered to warn the villagers. He needed to see his father.

Hiccup burst through the door, fearing the worst as a million thoughts ran through his mind. The fears melted away almost immediately when he saw his father sitting up in his bed, awake. Gothi was tending to him, removing the many bandages.

"Dad?" Hiccup asked, hoping his eyes weren't playing tricks on him as he stepped over to the bed.

"It's okay, Hiccup," Stoick said, his voice just above a harsh whisper. He placed his hand on Hiccup's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "Everything is okay now."

Hiccup was at a loss for words. His knees felt weak as exhaustion and relief washed over him. He sat down in the nearby chair.

"Gothi, can you give us a minute?" Stoick requested looking over at the elderly healer.

Gothi gave a small bow and left the house to give the Haddocks their privacy.

"How are you feeling, Dad?" Hiccup managed to ask.

Stoick rolled his shoulders as if he were getting ready to stretch. "A bit sore, but this is nothing compared to when Gobber and I were trapped on an island full of wild boars and no weapons. That was a bloody mess; I barely made it out with my arm intact."

The younger Haddock gave a small chuckle. It was a story he had heard a million times, and he looked forward to hearing it a million times more.

"Gobber told me you had to leave on an important mission," Stoick said. "Tell me what happened. Were you successful?"

Hiccup smiled. "Yeah, yeah we were." He told his father about how they went to Vanahiem, chased after some flyers in order to keep the place a secret, and how they found the final Dragon Eye lens. He spoke of what went down on Dramillion Island. He left out the part about almost getting impaled with a harpoon; that was a story of a different day. When he finally got around to what happened on Berserker Island, he lit up as he remembered the four followers. He quickly finished the story, leaving out several key parts.

".... And Helga took the eggs down to the Hatchery cave to wait for the Wing Maidens," Hiccup finished.

"I think you skipped several parts," Stoick quipped. "But that's okay. You can tell me later. For now, help me get up. A chief shouldn't be laying in bed for to long."

Hiccup obliged, seeing no sense in arguing. Besides, how else was he supposed to show his father the four followers, who were surely here by now?

Leaning heavily on his son, they stepped outside only to be met with a dragon standoff. Skullcrusher was guarding the Haddock home, roaring at four Thunderdrums. Toothless stood between the dragons, doing what he could to stop the foreseeable bloodshed.

It took Stoick a minute to register what was happening, but when he looked into the eye of the older Thunderdrum, everything fell into place. "Skullcrusher, stand down," he ordered his dragon. "They mean us no harm."

Skullcrusher obeyed but clearly wasn't happy about it. He stomped over his stable and laid down with a smokey grunt. Toothless followed the grumpy dragon and butted his head against his. This seemed to help the Rumblehown calm down a bit.

Stoick pushed off of Hiccup and limped forward toward the older Thunderdrum. "Hello, old friend," he greeted in a wistful tone as he helped out his hand. The Thunderdrum stepped forward and rested his snout against the chief's open hand.

"Thornado," Stoick gleefully boomed as he got down his knees and embraced the dragon as best as he could. Thornado nuzzled in, purring loud enough to shake the ground around them. The three younger Thunderdrums took this as permission to start pouncing on the duo.

Despite how sore he was, Stoick couldn't help but laugh. His old dragon had come back and brought the kids with. After a while, the younger dragons stopped their playful attack and gave Stoick and Thornado some much-needed space.

Hiccup stood to the side and just watched as the pair reconnected. Astrid came up next to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You knew they were coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Hiccup admitted. "I meant to tell you guys when we landed, but Gobber kind of interrupted me."

"You can make it up to me later," Astrid teased. "Roast boar and a shoulder massage."

Hiccup threw his arm over her shoulders. "Anything for you, mi'lady. But for now, I think we need to keep on these guys."

Stoick lay flat on his back as Thornado just rested his head on his former riders chest. Both content to be together again.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Just Like Magic

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Female!Reader

Words: 3,610

Hiccup’s got both hands full with dragon training, nevermind everything else he’s got going on in private, because, really, it’s not just the dragon. 

Hiccup’s got no one at his back- no friends, no Dad and a dead mother. He has got Gobber on most occasions, though if you asked Hiccup, he’d say that he doesn’t really count, mostly because he’s not much of a help even on the best of days. 

There is that one girl, though, with her odd appreciation for the world, colorful hems, twine and tassels- To him, she’s something new. Whenever he’s with her, it feels like things just might be turning up. Honestly, she might be exactly the kind of person he’s been looking for.  

(By some stroke of fate and probably coincidence, Hiccup makes friends with a weird girl in the woods and learns that life doesn’t have to be about fighting or proving oneself- sometimes it’s nothing more than a few stolen, happy moments shared between a lucky girl and a very unlucky guy.)

Tags: Witch!reader, optimistic/cheery reader, female reader, httyd 1, edited

- Next>

Grass tickled the bottoms of your clothed feet, your boots discarded to the side as you’d done your best to mosey up peeling, scratchy, hurtful bark. It crackled and broke off as you’d applied pressure to it, cutting into your skin through you-sized, harried trousers as you managed to throw one knee over the top of an upturned log. 

You scrambled for the most stable spot along the cut edge of a flat, good-enough-for-seating place propped up right under you.

Once you’d managed to get onto your knees, you began the careful work of turning yourself around inch by inch, moving your folded lower legs by just one small amount at a time until you were pleased again.

You stared down at a small canvas, a piece of old rag you’d sewn weakly to an uneven wooden frame, the soreness of your fingers something you could recall as if your fingers were still just-raw and not dull-raw.

Reaching with shaky, shaky hands, the wood piece below you wobbling with your wobbles, you felt cool, cool metal with small hands.

They were a normal size to you, but your hand were ones which the people around you found tiny despite your disagreements, tall as they were, as lofty as doorways and then some, with shoulders large and wide as their furs were musky, their hands and bodies full enough to reach the tops of worn-smooth-oil-sanded tables.

The sun came warmly down over your shoulders, prickling the tiny hairs there above and under hot cloth, reflecting light off of paste, a tame blue color, wholly saturated yet soft enough to not be tiring to your eyes, all encased in a small, metal tin.

It was made of leaves ground to liquid- rare as you’d been told and worth money, not that you knew the berth and measure of whatever money they had been talking about. You could only treasure the color for its own merits.

Things like worth and distance- you still had a terrible time coming to fathom what it meant to be ‘far, far away,’ not in the sense that you couldn’t imagine a world in another place. It was moreso that you hadn’t anything to fill the spaces between, your lack of experience doing you wonders in that it had then become your job to figure out what ‘journey’ meant to you and what it should mean to have to travel over many lands for small boon.

The seas rushed in front of you below the cliffs, kicking up a loud and fanciful spray, as if dancing with linked arms, scuffing hard boots against loose, dusty floor on a cool night by a roaring pit of flame. It was filled with joy, gleeful and fresh in celebration of life, wide, vast and light, calm and blue, yet no less passionate than any storm with clouds nearly dark as the invisible sky, thick and angry, with a sea so black a hand could not be seen submerged, currents crashing and roiling below it.

You stared down at the blue tin curiously, your only color, then traced your eyes over a wooden bowl with a shallow layer of clear water near its bottom. 

Your sleeves were spotted wet still, since earlier you’d jolted the bowl in a way which splashed. 

You touched the side of the wooden bowl with one shaky finger, listening as the wood clacked against the back of the carefully positioned canvas stand, borrowed politely from tall Mulch and an even more mountainous, addled Bucket.

You thought you might paint the sun and the sky, though you’d quickly realized with chagrin that your blue was your only color, perfect for the sea and the sky and yet not so fitting when it came down to much else.

More often than not, the sun was a shining white. However, you did know there was more beneath its surface. Yellow was the color that followed you under closed lids after you'd started into it for too long, filling your vision with spots and there was an orangey-red that stained your vision when you kept your eyes open just the same. Sometimes there was a green, and less often, blue.

There were no more berries to squeeze from now, though, and though slightly put off, you were not so harried as to try and force a color when there was none, scouring the land for something new and workable when your blue was so lovely on its own.

You picked up a thin brush with clumsy fingers laid next to it, wrapped with twine very, very tightly around a wooden stick, thick enough to hold string and a small tuft of brushed sheep’s wool. 

The wood was all splintered, small points sticking out everywhere, but you had found it and made it yours, and you found yourself hard pressed not to be proud of your choice. 

For the wool, you’d gotten permission to take some nice bit off of a sheep with shears, which you’d watched Johannes do with pride, your fingers clutching onto wood fencing and your toes on their tips. 

You had woven it tight to the body using twine in a way that had your fingers twinging and needing help from thicker hands, with many hard, rough spots and thick dustings of hair along the knuckles and back.

With careful hands over an uneven handle, you pressed your brush into the blue paste and lifted it with nary a wet, sudden pulling noise.

Very carefully, you pressed it against a beige-green rag, the wool bunching like the hem of a dress pooling along the floor. After, you were careful not to move it for a very long moment.

When you finally lifted your brush, the stiff muscles in your wrist loosening, there was a spatter left behind vaguely in the shape of the sun which made your mouth slip and half a pleased huff leave your lips, the effort you expended to hold the rest of it all in causing the sideways cut-log below you to wobble.

The dear sun shone across your canvas, past the casted shadow, once again reflecting off the wet of your paste.

As you dipped and dipped your brush curiously in the water of your small bowl, paint danced in thin, disappearing, transparent whisps, turning from blue to a careful sun white-red-yellow-orange in the light, nearly glowing.

Blinking, the smile over your mouth growing wider, at that moment, you felt an affection that was nearly overwhelming- it was as if you reflected the world back out from within yourself, thinking of the lovely sun, precious canvas and the swaying grasses all laid out before you, strands and fronds moving with the wind and whispering all the same noises in the same directions, as loud and quiet as the ripples of the nearly-still water in your bowl.

Even stronger was your wonder as the end of your clumsy wool brush met canvas and a veritable shine of color smeared across linen.

Following that, it was with dusty fervor that you had pulled your clumsy canvas up high against your pit, huffing as you trotted quickly above dirt and floor, moving in steps that were quick and hard enough to be jarring, accidental stomps sending solid-jerking jolts up your everything as you hit uneven ground.

Each landing was met by a noise that was almost voice and not breath, an expression of your startle, yet you were too pleased to be unhappy, even as you hobbled with a canvas too large for you to carry between two hands, pressed painfully into the place between your cloth-covered side and your arm. It was a scene carefully waited for, with small, finger-shaped imprints in the face as you tested it dry.

You were excited to show what a joyous thing had happened to you, sharing your knowledge with the small hope that it would work just as splendidly for the others as well, though you had a slight inkling that it just might not.

You had always been a special child, since you’d come to see and feel through warm furs and soft, warm, musty smells, listening to the light of the fire as if its secrets could be shared with you, crackling with a feeling in your insides that was sharp-sharp-sharper and fresher than anything your heavy, dusted head could think up on it’s own, your neck too weak to move it any.

 

You laughed, a young girl of fifteen winters, a canvas held tightly under your arm as it had been so many times before, feeling light and cool even as the noon sun lay heavy across the earth after a morning of painting. 

It was a hobby you had spent time on occasionally since the first, when you were small and young, proud and curious with nothing but a blue paste and some heart.

You skittered down a large path, wide with no rails, fighting with your shoulders against the ever-present wind, the smell of salt and ocean thick against your nostrils, the thin ramp below hanging steadily above the sea.

In town, there was not as much of a need for your own paintings, especially since there was already someone who had taken up the job of portrait-making, who made your own art seem like a lesser craft. Still, though your practice was small, there was no shame in sharing it around.

Despite it all, it was something you’d spent time doing with joy, especially as your art had grown past the mindless, painted scribbles of a child and into the realm of ‘reasonably scribbled,’ experimental in terms of both lighting and setting.

The canvas under your arm was made up of yellow rays and empty, heavenly clearing- you’d not needed any subject besides what was in front of your eyes. Even in the smallest leaf, there was something beautiful, and yet somehow, for some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing.

For such a clear afternoon day, the docks were surprisingly empty, though the person who you were looking for remained there just the same- you’d always seemed to be lucky in that way.

“Hello!” You stepped around the half-rotted intestines of a gutted fish laid across the floor, the beating of wood beneath your boots stilling as you paused and asked cheerily, “Inga! Off so soon?”

Across the way, by the very end of one branch of the docks, stood a woman with red hair who was soft, and though she looked tired, she had no wrinkles to be seen, her skin young, slightly pale and freckled. 

She had a full chest and soft body, though you knew there lay some muscle underneath, unexercised as it was- she had come from the age group before yours, the one which had only just grown old enough to pass training and enter into full adulthood.

She was minding an empty set of barrels, a thick spool of rope carried over one arm, and a slightly dirtied old cloth of a murky color laying draped over the opposite shoulder.

Behind her, where every other space was empty, there was a boat, bobbing with its rope, tied to one of the logs holding up the harbor. It was a smaller thing, all thin wood, hastily made, shorter where most other ships were tall and barely affordable as it was- nothing that could handle the larger seas, though the homely waters around Berk wore it just fine.

There was a small draw connecting it to the docks, a ribbed pathway made up of old wood crate parts which you’d put together yourself when Inga had been more swollen than plain round.

You shifted your canvas in your arms as you waited so that its frame was pressed to your back, its painted face facing the far cliff face behind you, greens and yellows all pointed carefully out of view.

Straight wood dug slightly into your back past two layers of cloth, one tan and dry, more beige than gray as you found your eyes stinging slightly past the strong smell of fish and slight wood rot. The smell was magnified by the heat, coming from all the places where fishermen discarded into the ocean what waste they should give back to the earth and soil, and then some. 

There were also the few old fish left behind by the morning crowd in barrels and among crates, the too-small ones and the ones at the bottom of the barrel that had either been left too long or ones that had been touched so much by the rabble they no longer looked healthy, all too soft and bruised, too bad to sell.

You noted slightly shabby smock and borrowed trousers, ones that had probably belonged to her husband- Truly, the fishing had been poor as of late, though it was with your full heart that you wished the couple prosper, even more so since they had taken a step back from fighting to care for more gentle things. 

In the time it took for Inga to bend down and peer deeper into barrel, you took a look around, searching thoroughly yet without too much vigor

Your patience bore good fruit as, after a long moment of concern, slightly worried preoccupation and as late-received words ran past ears and into strained mind, Inga finally rose, her face going slightly lax.

She turned, then, and it was after that that you received a kind response, “Hello to you too, lass.” 

Then, without waiting for a response, she yelt back towards the waters, “Love!”

You smiled as she turned her head, directing her attention to the ambiguous space to her side, eyes turning to her back, feeling the thick sun’s heat run over your cheeks and shoulders, playing with your straining arms.

Inga sighed very quickly, before calling in a slightly firmer tone, “Come, tall man, say something!”

You suppressed a quick laugh, one that yearned to follow the sudden uptake in noise, the sound of a rapid wood’s knocking following her shout.

“Hello!” Came a muffled voice, all wood-stuffed yet surely familiar, belonging to a man of the same age as Inga with black hair and a slightly soft, yet fully built form, thin in the way most men could only be when coin was scarce, food was the same and love was in plenty, filling the stomach in the way that it tended to do after giving one's own food to one’s most hungry treasured.

“Bo!” You wanted to clap with glee, bringing your canvas out from behind your back, resting it by your side, one hand hooked under the bottom as the leather soles of your feet shuffled against wood.

Bo grew quiet again a moment after, though if you listened really hard, you could hear the gentle thump of hammering and the messing of metal against metal, still slightly hurried and yet calming.

“He’ll be occupied for a while, I think,” Inga warned slightly, “So It’ll just be you and me for now.”

“That’s blush!” You beamed, before dipping your head sheepishly and looking up at Inga with appeasing eyes, “I’d love to chat- of course, If you don’t have trouble minding me for a while?”

“No, dear,” Inga shook her head, throwing her cloth down on the rim of one of her barrels, “I don’t mind at all- really, you’re the one doing the minding and henning, With your care, one might think you were the new mother, not me.”

“Oh, I’m sure Ase’d disagree,” You hummed, “Really, it does no one any good to be sailing on an empty stomach. I must ask, how does she fare?”

“I’ve not enough to hire a nurse yet, so her burdens are still many, though she’s hardy and I shouldn’t be gone for long.”

You spent a fraction of a moment thinking of the oceans and knowing for a fact the truth could only exist in a manner that was quite contrary- Fishing was an all-day event.

“She’s a strong woman,” You said sympathetically, speaking again. “And so are you, I think, though even a strong woman deserves rest in times of trouble.”

She rolled her eyes, voice stern with play and false grim, “Don’t start with me, small lady.”

“You’ve got to do well,” You hummed, continuing anyways, rolling both your eyes and head back slightly so you could look up at the sky, reconsidering,  “The seas have got to do well for you.”

“By the by,” Inga looked at you curiously, then, “I would like to know- what’s brought you to me today?”

You smiled freely, “I came to wish you luck- and to show you something else just as nice.”

Inga shook her head fondly, “I’m glad- we always fare better when you do for some odd reason, you special girl.”

You smiled with something that was all lips and no teeth, though it split the sides of your face just the same.

“Well, let’s have it then.” Inga declared as there sounded a particularly hard, clumsy knock from the inside of the couple’s fishing barge.

You were careful to maneuver your canvas out from behind you, arms straining as you swung it around wide, before displaying it proudly, one hand on each side of the frame, paint facing Inga as you handed it to her, “Here it is!”

She held it by both sides with firm yet careful hands, a spool of rope slipping from one soft arm onto the dock floor below, something which neither of you paid much mind to.

“Why, it feels as if it’s moving on its own! What life!” Inga said, holding out her canvas. In her voice, you could tell that some of her astonishment was a nicety, but a lot of it was all genuine.

You knew she really ought to be pleased- past all the softness and that deceivingly fluffy exterior, that sly woman picked up on things very quickly. Any luck you could offer- Well, she surely couldn’t refuse.

“Oh, are those flowers?” She hummed, turning the painting to the side, looking at it in every which way, pulling it in and bringing it out, “The white bits here? And the leaves- this wouldn’t be an Elder, would it? And the heather!”

You clapped your hands, your voice squeaky, “It is!”

You listened to a slight crowing off in the distance as a seabird cheered, and after a long moment of careful appreciation, you were nearly startled as Inga made an attempt to hand it back.

Though unready to take it, you brought out your hands slightly, your smile still soft but there, though slightly strained in the way smiles were when you were puzzling or doing menial tasks, or when you were between laughs.

You felt something twinge in your chest, sharp and close to where your heart might be. It could have been the joy in giving or it could have been something else. It could have been your compass, perhaps, or just plain intuition, made up of all your nerves and bones, mashed up and pieced together like a handful of loose dials and twine and other such things.

You trusted it more than anything

“You’ve got nails?” You asked, ignoring a flash of movement at the corner of your eye, insisting more with the jerky movement of your arms, pushing it back towards her with your palms pressed gently into the top two corners, saying without words that she should have it. “It would look good in your ship- in the cabin by the front, I’d say.”

“I’d do well to take good care of your special charm,” Inga smiled kindly, lighting a feeling in you which you could definitely, surely call ‘the joy in giving’ this time, looking down at you with grateful eyes, “Thank you.”

‘Special charm’ was what she called anything you gave anyone at all, though you could find no reason to disagree with the name.

“It’s no problem for me.” You shuffled your feet bashfully, as she moved up the slim bridge into the shallow bowels of her small ship, “Tell little Erik I’ve said ‘hullo.’”

Bo and Inga- You were sure they’d do well.

Your eyes wandered as you waited, the two love birds making conversation over your painting in their small ship, your fingers linked behind your back like small chains.

You eyed the sea curiously, though your eyes were drawn to some noise off the side

The docks weren’t as empty as before, as, off into the distance, you spotted a boy in a fuzzy, brown fur cloak, dull and slightly matted from what you could tell from the distance, with the hints of a very noble green tunic underneath. 

On a crate before him lay a floppy fish of a respectable size, one of the bruised leftovers, you’d reckon, which he tried to maneuver with his dagger as if it were a utensil.

He leaned incredibly far forwards, one leg bent and the other stretched completely flat behind him, nearly dropping both it and his dagger into the sea before he had given up and grabbed it securely in the mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

You thought he might have been doing his best to be sneaky, though you were sure he hadn’t seen you at all during all the time you’d been watching him.

Absent-mindedly, you watched him hurry back towards the very foot of the ramp leading back to the village, which briefly covered him with its large shadow. Then, you slowly turned your attention back to the sound of muffled conversation and blooming praise.

[noctusfury]

Mildew’s Wives (RoB/HTTYD Theory)

Hello, everyone! Welcome to another HTTYD article! Today we’ll dive into the topic concerning Mildew’s wives, which we see in the first episode of Riders of Berk. And are also mentioned in the 5th episode “In Dragons We Trust”.

Perhaps I’m the only person who is interested in this, or even remembers this since these are just background portraits of his ex-wives. But I can’t help but want to pursue this and figure it out!

If you’re interested in my other Mildew article where I dive into who inherited his farm after his outlawry, click here.

Now we know from what was said from Stoick and Gobber that Mildew was a long-standing dragon slayer with a marvelous reputation back in his younger days when dragon raids were common. As, I assume, his father before him. Interestingly enough, since it feels implied that it was in the more recent decades that Berk sent Mildew far from the village due to his unpleasant personality, it could be assumed that he might’ve been different when he was younger. 

Of course, we don’t know what or when Mildew became “the Very Unpleasant”. That being said, he’s mentioned to be very hideous and even implied to be unhygienic. So that could also be why, as he’s a cabbage farmer, owns a sheep, and doesn’t seem to take a bath at all. He also has a very hairy back, according to Gobber after he treated him.

Funnily enough, his wives also seem to be... equally unpleasant. Naturally, we know very little about his past and what he went through back then, nor about what his wives might’ve been like. (Which is a bit of a shame.) 

Of course, I find it funny that they were as hideous as he was. Though he probably married them as formal alliances with other families during his famous dragon-slaying days. Or maybe he was desperate because nobody else would marry him, due to his unpleasant nature (in many ways). Whoever they were and whatever they were like — or even if they were natives to Berk or outsiders — we’ll never know. It’s up to anyone’s interpretation.

In "In Dragons We Trust", Mildew mentions that he had three wives, who all died at some point, to which he states are “pleasant memories,” suggesting he did not like them despite being married to them. (And it may be assumed that they also didn’t like him just as much.)

Now, of course, we could assume that they died from various things: childbirth, disease, an accident, even dragon attacks. Or perhaps they died from the same thing. We don’t know.

However, there could be a much more... macabre alternative.

Murder.

In the episode “In Dragons We Trust”, we see Mildew grab and use dragon claws and feet to frame the dragons in order to banish them from Berk. He then throws them away to get rid of the evidence, possibly knowing that Hiccup and the Gang would eventually find them and he’d get in trouble for it.

Now, this looks like Nightmare claws and... Zippleback feet? But these seem to be some of his trophies he’s won from back in his younger days as a renowned warrior. 

Now I’m sure you’re curious as to why I brought up the “murder” option. It sounds more like he didn’t do any of that from what he says, as it implies that their deaths happened without him having to do anything. 

But this is a “what-if” scenario. What if he bumped off one or even all three of his ex-wives and used these tools to frame the dragons for having killed them?

Think about it. The fact that he even HAS these to begin with is rather sus. I mean, what would he even need these for, if not for what he did to his wives in the past? The claw thingy makes for a terrible backscratcher, and the dragon feet I can’t see anyone using unless they have some sort of winter-proof function that we don’t know about.

But the fact Mildew has these tools at all is rather sus, like I said previously. Why even have them at all except to having used them to frame dragons before for previous wrongdoings?

Plus, when he came home, he greeted the portraits callously by saying, “I’m back home, ladies!! Eh? What’s that, ya say? Nothing? Perfect!”

After claiming those tools, he says to Fungus, “These have served us well, haven’t they, Fungus?” While he was obviously talking about the incidents with framing the dragons, it’s obvious he had these long before that, which is sus. Again, I highly doubt he uses them as winter boots and a backscratcher, so why else would he have them and why would they have served him well save for using them for murder?

Of course, I don’t know when Mildew was banished to this far-off house and farm plot, but it sounds like it was anywhere between 10-20 years ago. Heck, it could even be even longer, but Gobber said, “Why do you think we sent ya to the other side of the village?” so that kinda implies that it was within 10 or so years. No more than 20. Or maybe it might’ve been only 5 years. We just don’t know. 🤔

Anyway, I’m digressing. Point is that he’s a farmer, so he could’ve lived close to the village, or maybe he was even a resident inside the village, so maybe it might’ve been difficult to stage a murder. However, if he was living NEAR the village, then he might have the opportunity to get rid of his wives during dragon raids. Maybe even burn his own house to drive it home. Or, assuming he was still married (at least to his third and last wife), it would’ve been easy to do it at his isolated farm and especially during a dragon raid.

However, again, it’s probably unlikely, but with Mildew being Mildew, I wouldn’t put it past him. But it could be that he never did that and that those deaths are very natural. But it’s an interesting plausibility.

What do you guys think? Do you think it’s possible?

Thank you very much for reading! And I hope to see you in the next article!

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury