#hiccup waaay more than the others

[ashleybenlove]

Snotlout falls into the stormy water here.

But god forbid Astrid is ever in danger.

[isa-ghost]

was reading through your q!phil hc masterpost and was wondering if you could add any of your codebreakers/etoilza headcanons into the fray…? :3

YESSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK THIS LONG TO GET ASKED /LH

qPhil headcanons masterlist

RESTATES for my and your convenience (heads up, there are a few suggestive/mildly explicit mentions!!):

--He's FWB with Etoiles. Extremely QPR, Etoiles is an aro king --He and Phil started out as friends and that has Barely changed if at all, but sparring matches get a little too homoerotic sometimes and neither of them can resist the other when they're popping off extra hard. Things have. Escalated a few times. If yknow what I mean. Of all Phil's harem members polycule partners, he & Etoiles have absolutely ZERO emotional investment in the Spicy(tm) things they do together. It's simply a very intimate way of showing each other their respect & admiration for the other. What they have going on is a "*spanks you* good game, let's hit the showers team" kinda deal. They're the type of mfs to finish in bed then shake hands like "gg." Casual sex is >>>> to these two, but it happens waaay less between them than it did Phil & Fit, Fitza was habitual (pre-Pac). Codebreakers is a once in a while thing --Etoiles has 100% asked Phil who fucks the best out of the polycule bc like everything else, it's a competition & he Must win, he Must have the best dick game. This amuses Phil very much --Phil is attracted to Etoiles the same way he's attracted to Fit, HOWEVER, the reasoning is different. Etoiles has raw skill and talent, but it's the way he wields it and demonstrates it that makes Phil wanna act up. Also Etoiles is fucking hilarious. Who can resist a good sense of humor? Those dramatics make Phil swoon --Etoiles is one of the people who is best at catching Phil's Tells for when something is wrong --Etoiles is one of few people who can convince (or goad) Phil into doing something he normally wouldn't, especially if he's drunk --Speaking of Phil being drunk around Etoiles, the way he can still absolutely body someone or snipe smth from miles away makes Etoiles want to kiss him stupid --Etoiles left a scar on Phil's back during Purgatory when he killed him Day 1. Phil didn't know for the longest time, but it took him a while to show him his wings after that. --Phil was genuinely afraid of Etoiles (& Fit) for a while after Purgatory --Sometimes Phil's laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles. --Phil goes back and forth on gifting one of his shed feathers to Etoiles --Technically all of the Polycule vs Ender King hcs apply to Etoiles in some way --Phil could listen to Etoiles teach him about French culture for hours

And now the new stuff :D

Etoiles's dramatics can get Phil in tears laughing. His sides and stomach will hurt before it's over, and Etoiles can go on for MINUTES. Sometimes he'll keep going purely because it has Phil dying so hard and he loves seeing what a kick Phil gets out of it

Etoiles is (playfully) salty that Phil is such a My Kids Come First kinda guy bc GOD does he want Phil to be down to do dangerous pvp and dungeon busting shit without the "euuu we gotta make sure it's safe" aspect more often. He wants that Angel of Death. Etoiles is the #1 Dadza (Derogatory) islander /lh

See, Fitza is more explicit and deadass about their,, Time together. Codebreakers is more subtle. Yknow that "media literacy is knowing when something that isn't gay sex is gay sex" post? That's Codebreakers. Sparring, dungeon busting, whatever high-risk high-exertion thing they're doing together. That.

It should go without saying how down Etoiles would be to throw hands with Ender King. It would be the most exhilarating fight he's ever had

Phil's still lowkey lost about the whole resistance thing. And schedules lately have not been kind to the two of them, so he hasn't had a chance to talk about it with Etoiles as extensively about it as he'd like to

Btw he's secretly concerned as hell smth bad is gonna happen to Etoiles if more of his body becomes corrupted by code :)

They 100% refer back to the time Etoiles said this regularly, and similar things like it. The same can be said for Fitza but my god the extent to which these two are more than willing to kill for each other. OUGH.

Phil does not realize how much pent up stress and emotion he can vent out via sparring or hitting something really fucking hard. Etoiles is going to fix that one day.

Phil's Etoiles impression has made Etoiles attempt to learn how to mimic Phil in retaliation but he cannot for the life of him get the hang of Phil's fuckass accent. Geordies stay winning to this man's dismay

Etoiles is frustratingly yet fascinatingly hard for Phil to clock sometimes. It's difficult to gauge exactly how he's feeling or what he's thinking. And yet as inconvenient that can be sometimes, something about it is incredibly attractive to Phil at the same time. Which is funny because unpredictability is usually not something his survivalist brain would like. Something about how he trusts Etoiles and therefore his being a wildcard is not so scary,,

Etoiles 🤝🏻 Chayanne - Wanting Phil to take them on a flight

I don't know if I'd call Etoiles an anarchist the same way I would Phil, but either way he is SO DOWN to fuck with the Feds if it entails any kind of pvp or the need to be geared up

Ok listen I have to call back to the gay sex subtext thing. Things that are more sex than gay sex to Codebreakers: Sparring, adrenaline, battles of wit, flexing powerful gear, thinking too much about what an absolute potential killing machine the other is, watching one another be in The Zone during a fight

Phil has more physical strength than skill with weapons and Etoiles has more skill with weapons than physical strength. Ok now imagine that while they're in a 2v# fight

I would not put it past Etoiles to pull a Missa and say smth wildly out of pocket and suggestive so fast in French that Phil doesn't catch it.

[violet-moonstone]

would honestly loved to have had a version of httyd in which there are more teenagers on berk/in the plot - not only to make it more immersive, but because all the dragon riders strike me as being weird kids/outcasts who wouldn't fit in, and having other normal kids around them would help to emphasize that.

like fishlegs is a nerd, sensitive, and easily spooked. astrid may be athletic and brave, but her intensity and lack of socializing would probably scare people away. the twins are funny but easily annoy people. snotlout is a jock on the surface but tries waaay too hard to be cool, probably to the point where he drives people away with the desperation.

I think it would be great if all the dragon riders were kind of losers who initially stayed away from each other (except hiccup and fishlegs who would totally be besties from the start), all doing their best to be popular (other than astrid, who I guess would care more about respect than popularity) - but then they eventually band together around hiccup as they realize they have more in common with him than the other vikings theyre trying to emulate

I think that would be really sweet. and also very much like a coming of age high school movie. rag tag bunch of misfits losers work together to save their island and make peace with the dragons

i would cry

uh

even more than I already do when I watch that movie

[imikhailotakeyouian]

Just one silly story of a tipsy Mickey 🖤

"And that's why you are wrong, Phillip," Mickey declares while sitting on the ground and leaning against Ian.

They are having a picnic at Lip's new house, in the garden, and Mickey and his in-law are discussing about who is Ian’s favorite.

Lip knows it's a pointless discussion, but Mickey is more than tipsy and he is chattier than usual. So he has to take advantage of that.

On the other hand, Ian cocks a semi-annoyed look at his brother while the way he looks at Mickey can be described as enamoured. As usual, though. He can't help but still feel like falling in love with his husband every day, with the same intensity.

"Lip, stop annoying Mickey."

"Nononono, my sweet Red, don't worry sweetheart," Mickey slurs and gets back to Lip. "I am Ian’s favorite, of course, cause he can't dick you, obviously-"

"Oh my god," Ian swears while Lip chuckles.

"And cause I am waaay more beautiful than you."

"Oh, are you?" Lip challenges and both Ian and Mickey respond with a loud YEP.

"But I am smarter than you," Lip counterattacks.

"Says who?!" Mickey snorts.

"Exactly," intervenes Ian. "Education and intelligence are two different things."

"Aaand!" Mickey hiccups. "I am more talented than you."

"According to who?"

"Me," Ian growls protectively and darts another glare to Lip.

"Ok, but I'm Ian's oldest friend, so I'm Ian's favorite."

Mickey snorts. "I am his husband and his best friend, so I win. Always, every day," He slurs and bends back to rub against Ian, purring sweetly. "Tell him, baby."

Ian snickers and turns to take his more-than-tipsy husband in his arms. "Of course, Mick. You are my favorite and Lip doesn't know what he is talking about."

They both baby-talk to each other, which Mickey allows only because he is way inebriated that he would possibly admit, and Lip takes advantage of that to record a video snickering shamelessly. He finally has some leverage against Mickey for the next time he gets sassy and grumpy with him.

"Ian is your baby, right Mickey?" He asks then, keeping recording.

"My baby, my love, my reason to live," Mickey coos while hugging Ian happily, snugging his whole face against his chest.

Lip laughs triumphantly and stops recording. "Ahhh, Milkovich, you are gonna regret this."

Ian protects a now sleepy Mickey in his arms and almost growls towards Lip.

"What, little brother?" Lip smirks. "Maybe you want a copy of this video?"

Ian's growl diminishes and surrenders easily. "Weeell, you are going to use it against him regardless so I'd rather have it too."

"You are welcome, little brother."

[galaxythreads]

Asking about the ‘cats’ thing from Stygian to give you an excuse to rant. 😁

thank you. both of you. for giving me the excuse I needed.

OKAY.

strap in. You're now going to learn a Tale. TM.

So. waaay back in the day when I started writing fic in 2016, I was still very much a conservative christian. One of the things about my sect of religion at the time was that swearing is viewed as one of the most disgusting things a human could do. My family would get into lengthy rants about how swearing showed you were an uneducated fool who couldn't come up with a different way to express your frustration. (Because everyone is going to loudly yell "by George stubbing my toe here hurt!" instead of "SH*T!")

So. With this in mind, when I started writing fics, I knew that there was no way under any circumstances, that I would EVER, EVER swear, because I wasn't like the lowly sinners. (sarcasm). I knew how to use language.

Unfortunally, for me, humans are humans. And humans yell things when they're frustrated or scared or hurt, and humans swear. And to write an authentic human in modern-day, you kinda need to accept that otherwise it starts to come off as a little weird. Especially if they're not your characters. Or not religious (but even then).

In some cases, I think I did really well. I was pretty good at using alternatives and it didn't sound too strange when I filtered the language, in others...it stuck out. Badly.

Anyway. I digress. So I had this previous account that I was harassed/bullied off of on ff.net where I wrote about 60 HTTYD stories, and HTTYD has more norse god swearing than anything else, so that worked out great. I wasn't using my god's name in vain and it was a kids show, so why would they be with other curse words???

But then. Well. I started to get more experienced as a writer and I realized that I was lacking in things for the characters to yell beyond "oh THOR" and it was starting to show badly. So you know what I did? I was like "oh! instead of looking at the culture this is based around and find something that would make sense in that context, I'll find a NEW word for them to yell out. That'll sound MORE normal."

So with that I started my Quest TM. (it lasted like five minutes, i really didn't think about it that hard) My parents own this really grumpy, mean cat that I'm allergic to and she caused me a lot of frustration when my eyes would water and my nose would run or just, in general I'd be tormented by allergies when she was in my room. I kinda had a thing against cats in general. SO! That sounded great. But now I needed an in-universe explanation for WHY the characters would be using cat as an exclamation of a curse. So the solution I came up with was that one time--ONE TIME--Hiccup tripped over a cat.

That was it.

No grand drama. No murder, no trauma, nothing. It was LITERALLY just that Hiccup had tripped over a cat one time an OBVIOUSLY this meant that he should spend the rest of his life using it as a curse word BECAUSE WHY NOT, RIGHT?

IT IS SO STUPID.

like the STUPIDEST explanation I could have come up with, period!? And why didn't I just move onto OTHER norse gods if i was so frustrated with only using Thor? There's PLENTY of other ones?????????

SDFLKJSD:FLKJDSF.

Anyway, so I did this for a really long time. It became a habit to use cat instinctively as a curse when I was writing and I didn't think that much of it.

(Really though, I was harrassed/bullied off of my other account for entirely unrelated reasons, but THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN WHY)

When I moved to MCU, this started to sound ridiculous. Why would grown adult men post 2010 be using cat as a curse word? Eventually, it faded out, but I'm 99% sure this was a problem up until 2019. THREE YEARS. For NO REASON. i was angrily lashing out at small cats.

Anyway, so I actually really enjoy swearing now? Like a heathen (sarcasm). My family would shame me if they knew, but sometimes, I have learned, the best word is actually just "sh*t" at the top of your lungs. Not cats.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. One day I will go through a03 and delete this stupid, stupid curse with something else, because it's ridiculous.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 11: Vows

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 11. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 10 'Ruin'. During the months after his son's disappearance, Stoick has trouble coping and finds himself lost in memories.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Stoick, Gobber, Valka, Hiccup, Fishlegs, Dagur, Astrid, Heather, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: Past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 006

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Falling Through Ice”

Whumpee: Hiccup, Stoick, Gobber, Valka

Author’s Notes: Okay, so believe it or not, I did finish this one waaay back in December. But I didn't want to post it until I finished Day 12, which then turned out to be so long I needed to divide it into two parts. Day 12 part 2 still isn't finished yet, but after much too long, I did finally have the energy to get through proofreading this one.

So there you have it, here's Day 11 at long last!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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It’s through a call in the late morning that Stoick received the news. He was sleeping in for once, something he rarely does as he enjoys waking up early in the morning to get the most work out of a day.

That day, he slept in and it was the ringtone of the smartphone Hiccup made him get that woke him up. He grabbed it and sat up before he answered tiredly.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Haddock, sir?” He recognized the voice as belonging to that of Astrid Hofferson, his son’s girlfriend.

“Yes, lass?” He rubbed in his heavy eyes. How did sleeping in longer make him more than waking up with the sun did?

“We think something’s happened with Hiccup. We think he’s missing.”

It was news Stoick never thought he would ever get to hear and he would’ve thought it a prank, if it wasn’t for the tremble in the girl’s voice. Astrid has always seemed tough to him and a terrible liar, like Hiccup. That was genuine emotion in her tone.

That was how he found out his son was missing.

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In the beginning, there was a fire driving Stoick forwards.

When his son’s friends called to tell him that they hadn’t seen or heard from Hiccup in a worryingly amount of time when he should’ve been taking his dragon home, Stoick was quick to come over.

He met with the five and the dragon, the one Hiccup was supposed to return to the sanctuary he had escaped from just to see his human companion.

He’d gotten their stories in person, spent another couple of hours trying to reach Hiccup, then searched the places he could’ve possibly gone to, even visiting Gobber and calling Valka, neither of which had seen a sign of him either. After a whole night wasted on trying to reach him, Stoick finally went to the police.

The friends had to do their story again, they were taken seriously, Stoick provided with a description and a picture, it was on the news, posters were printed and posted, it was a whole process, but they were fired up and stubborn in bringing him home.

Then days passed with no real news, then weeks, and then months of nothing. Nothing but sick minds who get some sort of kick out prank calling a worried father and grieving friends and girlfriend.

Stoick went out there himself to search for his son. The coffee shop he worked at, his street, the neighboring streets, he searched the entire city for just a single sign of Hiccup. And if he thought the police wasn’t doing enough, he’d hound them into doing more.

In the beginning, there was no short supply of spirit in his desire to find Hiccup, but now it’s been months and he feels like he’s already running on fumes.

He’s not going to stop, he’s never going to stop, but there are days where he can only sit on the couch in a darkened room and nothing more.

It doesn’t help that the holidays are fast approaching and all they do now is add to his sour mood. If Hiccup isn’t found soon, this’ll be his first without his son and that does not sit well with Stoick at all.

But anyway, Gobber is here, too.

“You know, Stoick, you scowl any more, you’re going to scare even me away.” Gobber jokes with him, attempting to lighten the mood with a light joke. The two have been silently and mindlessly watching whatever crosses their way, hoping to chase away any and all thought as they bring them both nothing but pain.

Gobber is heartbroken, too, jokes and faith in their son’s stubbornness used to help him cling to the hope that they’ll see him again.

At first, it was the hope that they’ll see him again soon, nowadays it’s the hope that they’ll see him again someday, whether dead or alive. Because Gobber isn’t a fool, he knows the first few days are very crucial in a missing person’s case, especially the first 24 hours. Isn’t that what those cop shows always claim? Hiccup has already been gone for months.

He wasn’t able to do much in the beginning. When it came to searching for Hiccup out there on the street and surrounding forests, he was only able to come along for so much with a leg and an arm missing. But with jokes, by talking with Stoick, or just keeping him company, he can help the man be less alone in his suffering.

Stoick hasn’t left the house in days, has stopped returning Valka’s call, and Gobber thinks that’s an alarming thing. The last thing his friend needs is to cut himself off from his family and Hiccup’s friends.

Taking his glare off the tv, which he isn’t paying attention to, anyway, Stoick instead scowls at Gobber.

“Do you truly think that I am in the mood for jokes, Gobber?” He asks, not all that happy to deal with Gobber’s attempt at humor, to say the least.

“Only for tasteful ones!” Gobber replies, his cheer still very much intact. Or that’s what he wants Stoick and those friends of Hiccup’s to believe.

Wordlessly, Stoick looks back at the tv. Apparently, they’ve been watching a channel about DIYs, a chair is being constructed in the current program. He hadn’t even noticed before.

Gobber sighs and looks back at the tv, the living room bathing in darkness except for the light from the screen. Once upon a time, he could at least annoy Stoick into interacting with him, now he can’t even accomplish that anymore.

And if he can’t reach Stoick… Well, it does little good for his own mental health.

Though usually a man that likes a clean house, Stoick has really been letting the place go as there are dishes and cans and filth everywhere. Not that Gobber can fault him for that as his own housekeeping isn’t what it used to be, though it’s always been on the messy side.

Stoick hadn’t wanted to see him either, further backing up his worries that his friend is isolating himself from the outside world. It’s only because Gobber insisted by pushing right past him and forced his way into the home that he isn’t alone now.

Gazing at the silent man, he wonders what he’s thinking now.

Stoick is thinking of Hiccup, for sure, he always is these past months. He shuts himself off to avoid the media, to avoid people who will recognize him from the tireless interviews, to avoid being bothered, running into Astrid or any of her and Hiccup’s friends, or coming across any reminders of his son. Gobber guesses those are the reasons that Stoick no longer goes outside and he only wishes the other would let him in.

Gobber’s assumption couldn’t be more right. In his attempt to hide and stop his endless thoughts and worrying, all Stoick does is think and fret and tear himself apart for his failure.

As a father, he’s supposed to protect his child, that has been his duty from the day he and Valka decided to expand their family. He followed through on this while Valka was pregnant with their son, he held him as soon as he could after birth and promised him that he wouldn’t know a single day of strive, and he tried and tried every single day of the boy’s short lived life to make it come true.

Now look where his incompetence has left him, left Hiccup.

And before this, there were at least two more times when he felt, and was, absolutely useless.

The second time was when a dragon attacked his son, scarred his back, and mangled his leg so badly it had to be taken.

The very first, it was during a snowy winter when his son was 12-years-old and that is the particular moment he’s thinking of now.

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“Be careful!” He remembers warning his son that cold afternoon as his friends had come to ask him outside to play, which is slowly devolving into “hanging out” as they age. Not a bad idea, Valka had convinced him and she was still his wife at the time.

Hiccup was a young boy with plenty of friends, he should make use of his childhood while he still can before the inevitable responsibilities of life will whisk him away. He should enjoy himself, that is what Valka said to convince him to let Hiccup outside.

Back then, Oswald, a good friend of Stoick’s, was still alive. Back then, Dagur was still a good boy and Heather was a young girl full of life, who didn’t need to struggle to make ends meet following the loss of her father and her brother’s troubles.

But Stoick knew there was something off about the boy from the beginning. Dagur was too reckless for his tastes, always seeking trouble in some way, never listening to his father. That day, it was Hiccup he dragged down with him.

It was Fishlegs who suddenly stood on his front porch, twiddling his thumbs uncertainly and timidly staring at the ground. Apparently, Astrid had sent him, as Stoick would later find out. She’s always been a smart girl, a girl who doesn’t like to break rules and listens to her parents.

“Um, Mr. Haddock, sir? I think Hiccup’s about to get in a lot of trouble.” For any kid at any age, tattling on your friends never feels good and it doesn’t help that Stoick is so big and scary. The 11-year-old never understood how Hiccup was never scared of him. But Astrid had made him go while she stayed, believing she needed to keep an eye on what she thought was a situation about to get really out of hand.

Tearing their coats off the rack, he and Valka left quickly, the boy guiding them towards the local lake in a forest just outside of town.

They would find that Dagur was the biggest troublemaker in this situation. A much older boy, he’d followed his sister when she left with Astrid.

“Come on, Hiccup! You’re not scared like they are, are you? Get over here!” That was unmistakably young Dagur’s voice that they heard as they approached the lake. Whatever he was hounding their son to do, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Hiccup!” Stoick called out to him the second he spotted him, seeing his small frame on a frozen lake nobody has cleared for use yet and there he was.

Dagurr stood in the middle of it, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. That is, until he saw the angry and mountainous dad of his target at the banks of the lake together with Hiccup’s mom. And suddenly, he felt like fleeing, having been caught red-handed.

“Mo-Mom? Dad?” Hiccup looked back at his parents, his face and posture betraying that his position isn’t one he put himself in as willingly as it first appeared.

Dagur had been bullying the younger kids, daring them into getting on the ice like he dared to. Kids don’t like to be challenged this way, they don’t like to be made to feel like they can’t do something, like they’re afraid and being afraid makes them a coward. Nobody wants to be seen as anything but brave. But Hiccup, he merely wanted to “prove himself” to end this charade and convince him to get off.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, Astrid, and Heather, too, looked uncomfortable with the situation. They knew it was bad, even the first three who are troublemakers themselves.

“Hiccup, come on! Come back!” Astrid shouted towards him, but he was too stubborn to leave, still waiting on Dagur to get off the ice first.

He wasn’t ready to give up on him yet, not even with his own well-being on the line. He cared too much about others, he has always cared too much. Three years in the future, it might contribute to Dagur’s future obsession with him. His mother has left him, his father would, too, then, but Hiccup hadn’t.

Looking away from his terrified parents to gaze back at Dagur again, he shuffles ever closer while trembling in fright. He can hear and feel the lake cracking in warning beneath his feet.

“Dagur, I’m-I’m-I’m here-I’m here now, can we-can we go back?” He asked with a tremble and tears of stress in his eyes. He wanted to go back so badly, but he refused to go alone.

“Um-” The older boy’s bravado from before was entirely gone, his gaze moved from Hiccup to his father nervously.

“Yes, you two can! And you better come back quickly! Dagur, your father will hear of this!” Stoick couldn’t hear the ice straining, but that didn’t make him any less urged to get those two boys on solid ground.

“Dagur!” Heather shouts, sniffing.

“Dagur, please, you’re only putting yourself in danger! Come back to shore and everything will be okay.” Valka took a less consequential stance, something Stoick looked at her in disagreement for.

“Oh-okay,” Dagur quietly replied, spooked by Hiccup’s parents, and shuffled his way cautious off the lake.

It was only then, when he saw Dagur safely on the banks, that Hiccup could breathe easy and return, too.

“And now you, my brave boy, come here!” Valka stretched her hands out, causing him to smile.

Stoick didn’t plan on being as encouraging as his wife was being, fuming. Their 12-year-old was recklessly risking his life and for what? If he wants to be a hero, he should do it without endangering himself as well.

“I’m-I’m coming!” Hiccup called back, happy that he no longer needed to be here.

But as his luck would have it, just like he will somehow attract the attention of two obsessed men in a span of only three years, he had to be the one to fall through the ice.

Slowly, he moved closer to his friends and parents, the thin layer of ice under his feet cracking beneath his feather-light weight. No matter how much he moved from the spot, the cracks followed him and they grew bigger and they multiplied quickly. He was so scared, dying to reunite with his parents again. They were right there and yet so far away.

And then it breaks and he sinks into the freezing water below with a shriek that is cut short.

“Hiccup!” Everyone shouted as they watched him disappear.

Stoick will remember this incident as one of the worst moments in his entire life. Nothing in any of his 45 years of life will ever come close, not until his son loses his leg and fights for his life in the hospital, not until some faceless stranger kidnapped him for reasons Stoick never wants to know.

He couldn’t traverse the ice to go get him, it would’ve never been able to hold his weight if it couldn’t hold Hiccup’s. All he was able to do, all any of them were able to do, was watch in fear as Hiccup cried and clawed and struggled to get out.

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Somehow that incident ended well. Somehow Hiccup managed to pull himself back up on slightly thicker ice than the parts that kept breaking on him. He got far enough away from the hole that someone could pull him the rest of the way. Once he was pulled back, Stoick and Valka enclosed him in their arms, his tiny and wet body cold in their embrace.

Neither of them have ever forgotten that day and it’s all Stoick can think about now. He can still hear Hiccup’s voice.

“Mom! Dad!” He’d cried for their help, something he has rarely ever done growing up. No matter how many problems may pile and pile, Hiccup has always wanted to solve things himself before he called in any sort of help. It’s probably why, after recovering from his amputation, he wanted to pull Toothless out of his guilt.

Stoick wonders if that was what had gotten him kidnapped. There are plenty of stories of people pretending to be hurt or in distress just to lure in unsuspecting good-natured people. If anybody could fall for such a scam, it would be Hiccup. Every part of his mind could be telling him that this person was up to no good and he would still act on that small, small “what if this person truly is in trouble?”

Is that what got him kidnapped? What got him... killed? Was Hiccup simply too pure of heart and did someone take advantage of that to snuff out his light?

After the lake incident, they drove him to the hospital as fast as they could and they found out he was okay. The doctor there told them he would be just fine and that they just needed to keep him warm and dry until his temperature was back up. After that, they could take him home with them.

He hadn’t lost consciousness, he didn’t seem to have swallowed or breathed in too much water, they could be almost certain that he was entirely okay.

As for his parents, however, they were never quite the same after that accident. Once Hiccup was dry, Stoick held his shivering son to him and vowed to him that he would never let anything happen to him ever again.

It’s a vow he broke twice.

Hiccup bounces back from pretty much anything thrown at him. After his fall, he would sneak out to play when his parents would much rather have him home with them. And though he wouldn’t go back on a frozen lake again, he’d still go out swimming with his friends.

During his divorce with Valka, though it was a painful time for all of them, he seemed to understand why it needed to happen and adjusted quickly. Even when asked if he thought badly of his parents months after it was finalized, he’d told them “no”, that it was better this way.

When a dragon went and bit his leg off, Hiccup went on to not only see the darn thing again, but he made friends with it and decided to fully dedicate his life to dragonkind. At 15, he wasn’t sure yet where he wanted his life to go, not until that accident.

Again and again, Stoick promised his son that nothing would ever happen to him after this. He held him in the hospital after his birth as he promised, then a second time after the lake, then a third time as he held his hand just before the surgery that would take his leg. Chances are, he will never get to promise him a fourth time.

Sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the tv and wasting away, there are tears in his eyes. Never much of an emotional man, Stoick doesn’t feel like he can stop them.

Strictly statistically speaking, the chances of a missing person ever being found alive, or even found at all, dwindles by the day and Hiccup has been gone since early June.

It’s December now.

The horrendous theories from the police don’t help either. Some even dare to put the blame on Hiccup, insinuating that his death, not his vanishing, but his death , might’ve been caused by a crime of passion. 19 years old, handsome, tall, capable, who isn’t to say he’s been cheating on his girlfriend and either she or the mistress found out? Naturally, that meant Astrid was a suspect at some point, too.

Stoick remembers seeing her after an interrogation once. Her parents came to pick her up at the same time he’d come to the station to demand an update.

She’d been distraught, face red and eyes bloodshot. Hiccup was her boyfriend of a year, her childhood friend, and they’d accused her of killing him over something like that. While cheating is no trivial matter, it’s not something she would kill over. Besides that, everyone who knew Hiccup also knows that he would’ve never done such a thing to her in the first place.

Then they settled for the most likely culprit, which was Dagur.

Stoick won’t lie, it felt good to finally hear from the police that they got him and that he would answer for his crimes, but that only lasted for… what? A day? Two days? A week at most? The relief ended quickly because the question of what happened to Hiccup remains unanswered to this day and Dagur stubbornly persists that he’s “getting better”, that he “would never hurt Hiccup”. And frankly, a part of Stoick seems to believe the young man.

Gods, why didn’t he just let him go live with Valka to study dragons? He wouldn’t have needed to move out and gotten an apartment deeper in their town. He would’ve already been living in the sanctuary if he did.

Or maybe the sanctuary was part of the problem. It’s not exactly a car ride away, you need to take the ferry there. So perhaps, part of the reason why he didn’t let Hiccup study dragons, he now realizes, is because he didn’t want him to go so far away.

How ironic, then, that someone decided to take him away anyway when he wasn’t looking. As if someone knew of Stoick’s inability to let go of his only child and thought that they should be the one to make him.

This never would’ve happened if he let Hiccup do as he wished. On the sanctuary, surrounded by dragons who know and love him, where Valka is, he would’ve been perfectly safe. Stoick may as well have asked someone to kidnap him.

It’s a painful thought and a tear falls, but Stoick doesn’t fight the guilt that he feels. This is all his fault. If he didn’t constantly break his vow to keep his child safe, Hiccup would still be here.

Gobber can read every self-deprecating thought on his old friend’s face, can see the tears, and sighs deeply before he looks back at the tv. On the channel they’re watching, they’re now installing some plumbing on a different program.

He wishes he could take the hurt away, wishes he could say something, but everything that can possibly be said he’s already said.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stoick.”

“They’ll find him, Stoick.”

“Hiccup’s a strong and smart lad, Stoick”.

He’s sick of repeating himself. He doesn’t even believe his own words, so why should he continue to spout these lies? To a grieving father especially?

Hiccup is smart and he is strong, but does that mean he could still be alive today?

The will to comfort his friend quickly abates in the face of his own doubts and loss, Gobber feels like he may as well follow Stoick’s example and waste away alongside him. What else is left for him to do?

Just then, Stoick’s phone rings.

Snapping them both of their contemplation, Stoick picks it up and looks at the caller’s ID. It’s Astrid, the poor lass. He doesn’t feel like talking to her, but then, he also didn’t feel like letting Gobber in, so he answers the call.

“Astrid, lass?” He acknowledges her, hand rubbing in his eyes.

His eyes widen suddenly and he shoots up from the couch, startling Gobber in the process.

“Stoick?” He wonders what’s gotten him so riled up and so out of nowhere. What could Astrid possibly be telling him?

“Yes, I’m still here. Thank you for telling me, lass, I’m coming. Please, tell him that when he wakes up.” Eventually, after what felt like much too long of a call to Gobber, Stoick hangs up the phone and stares at him with that same wide-eyed look he can’t quite place. The tears are still there, they’re still falling, so what is that expression telling him?

“What is it, man?! Don’t keep me waiting, spit it out!” He demands, throwing his remaining hand up in growing frustration.

“They found him, Gobber. They found my son.”

Perhaps, Stoick can still make good on that vow.

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Penny/Oscar prompt(with trans!Penny and trans!Oscar): Still feeling confused by being chosen as the Winter maiden, she approaches Oscar about whether she can really be a Maiden when her soul came from a man. Oscar tries his best to answer as himself, saying they're not so different as Oz only reincarnates into men, and explains he wasn't born as one, but that it's their feelings towards their gender and own identity that matters more and is a true reflection of their soul.

I don’t think I’m ever going to be completely happy with this one.  It’s been through (at minimum 3-4) drafts and waaay too many read throughs.  I’m just gonna call it done here.  A part of me feels like I could still make it better somehow, but I already put all that I could into it.

That said, Penny and Oscar as valid af and anyone who disagrees can fight me behind Denny’s (sure I’ll probably lose because I’m basically Steve Rogers before he became Captain America, but yeah).

Also if it doesn’t come across that they’re valid af in this fic, I will just go and edit it some more.  I did my best, but I also am somewhat worried that’s not enough.

anywhoooo off to the fic!

.

There Are No Strings On Me (The Farm Boy Is Also A Cricket, Too)

Penny watches the airship lift off and fly away.  She hates staying behind like this.  She understands why.  What she is now, a Maiden—she’s too important to risk on a reconnaissance mission.  The fate of Atlas, Mantle, the entire world rests partially on her shoulders, and not just in an ‘Ironwood telling her that it will be her job to save the world one day’ way.  This is real.  Too real.

Penny holds one of her hands in the other.  She rubs circles with her thumb on her open palm.  Her father, the first chance he got, repaired the damage Cinder’s fiery blade caused when it exploded.  She’s glad for that.  There’s no doubt in her mind that there will be a battle in the near future she will take part in.  Going into a fight with sustained damages is no good.

Penny closes her eyes.  A part of her wants to playback that terrifying moment.  Hurtling through the air, her sensors alerting her to the incoming blade, catching it, her hands overheating.  Spinning out of control.  Falling.

Catching herself.

She refuses to let herself do more than think about it.  She survived the fight.  So did Winter.  That’s what really matters.  

Although, dying doesn’t necessarily scare Penny.  She’s done it once already.  She doesn’t remember it or the time between it and her reactivation.  She never felt pain, terror.  One moment she knew nothing more, and the next she was blinking awake in her father’s lab.  Penny knows truly dying means not waking up again, but she finds it hard to fear the moment when it’ll eventually happen definitively for her.

What she does fear, and what she would cry over if she had the capacity, is the possibility of an afterlife.  Penny has hard evidence now that, if an afterlife does exist, she doesn’t get to go there.  She doesn’t go anywhere.  She just shuts off.  Like any other machine.

She’s not real like actual people are.  She’s a very close replication of life, but there’s still a gaping chasm between her and everyone else.  One that she can never cross precisely because of what she is.

I have come too far to be stopped by some toy!

They’re words said in rage by someone whose opinion Penny knows she shouldn’t really be considering, but they’ve stuck with her since they were yelled at her.  Is that what she is?  A toy?  A puppet?  A plaything?  An imitation of life meant to explore humanity’s capacity for creation?

An imitation of humanity itself, one that deceived—stole—one of its greatest powers out from under it?

Penny can’t describe what having the Maiden powers feels like.  They’re just there.  A part of her, but one that’s somehow detached from her operating systems.  She controls them, can send commands and signals to them like she does literally every other aspect of her body, but they are distinctly separate from her machinery.  Like a magnet that got accidentally stuck to her and won’t come off.  Not truly a part of her.  Not really.

She shouldn’t have gotten them at all.  The Maiden powers were intended as a gift from an old wizard to four living girls, to aid mankind.  Penny isn’t alive, not like everyone else is.  The gift to the maidens was never meant for her.  She intervened in a process she should have stayed out of.  It was not her place to act like she had.

But if she hadn’t…

Penny can imagine what would have happened if Cinder won that fight.  Fria’s final moments would not have been peaceful.  Winter, out of aura and injured, would be in no condition to continue a fight against an even stronger opponent.  Penny herself…well, she already knew how little Cinder regarded her life.

She’d had no choice, hadn’t she?  To save all three of them.  To not waste the window of opportunity Winter gave her by distracting Cinder.  In those precious moments, there was only her.  Penny.

She could have told Fria to think of Winter, couldn’t she?  Fria knew Winter.  Thinking of her probably wouldn’t have been too hard.  But, Penny hadn’t.  Penny had taken Fria’s hand and held it.  Because no one should be alone in that final moment.  Because she couldn’t say she knew what awaited Fria on the other side and she wanted to give Fria whatever comfort she could to send her off.  Because, in that moment, the magical powers hadn’t mattered, but the old woman in Penny’s arms did.

Now, here she is, the Winter Maiden.  A thief of a gift to humanity.

“You okay?”

Penny nearly jumps.  She hadn’t heard Oscar come up behind her.  Her receptors had captured the echoing sound, sure, but her processors hadn’t been attuned to register it.

“I—I’m fine,” Penny says too hurriedly, and closes her lips firmly to prevent the hiccup from escaping her.

Oscar looks at Penny a long moment, and then sits down beside her.  “I hate staying behind like this,” he admits, gesturing to the cave opening the airship flew out of to exit the Crater.  “I know there’s more I can be doing but I…”

“Are too important,” Penny finishes for him.  And he is.  Ozpin can always reincarnate into someone else, yes, but there will only ever be one Oscar Pine.  Even if he stayed behind, like her, because of the special magic connected to him, that’s the truth Penny believes firmly in.

“I guess you know what that’s like.”  Oscar laughs quietly.

Penny doesn’t answer.  They settle into silence.  It’s an odd place to sit, really, the opening that looks out over the Crater.  They have an entire, somewhat comfortable, temporary hideout to go rest in, but neither really want to leave the spot where they can see the sliver of the sky where the airship will first appear when it returns.

“Penny, I…” Oscar begins, and Penny turns to him to listen.  “If it was going to be anyone, I’m glad you’re the Winter Maiden.  I know we don’t know each other well, but I do know you’re a good person.”

“Thanks,” Penny replies quietly.  She knows the words are supposed to be reassuring, but they fall flat to her.  Again, she’d been the only one there, in that moment with Fria.  If the Maiden powers could have gone somewhere else, they probably would have.

It was unfair to them, and Fria.  There’s no way the previous maiden could have known Penny’s true nature.  Fria had much more important, pressing matters on her mind to truly take a second and notice the exposed metal of the palms of Penny’s hands, first when she touched her leg, and then when she held her hand.  Fria probably hadn’t had time to realize no ordinary person could have come through the freezing whirlwind of ice and snow.  She probably hadn’t seen how Penny’s legs were clearly synthetic and attached together at an artificial knee.

Despite being a Maiden who lived well into old age and was, therefore, arguably very clever,  Fria probably hadn’t noticed all the little hints that indicated what Penny is, even though she had every reason to critically examine Penny, since she’d been attacked for the power she was tasked with protecting mere minutes before.

Because that would mean Fria had known (or at least suspected) Penny’s true nature, and decided to choose her anyway.

And why would she do that?  Penny, as she keeps telling herself over and over again, isn’t actually real.  Not a real girl.  Not like Ruby and the rest of her team.  Not like Nora, or Winter, or even Cinder, who’s part Grimm now.  All of them were born, created as girls, and Penny was…well her father had been more focused on building something that functioned.  He’d never chosen a gender for her.  She did that herself, later on, after she gained consciousness.  But he’d given her his aura, and her father was a man.  So, following that line of logic, shouldn’t she too be a man too?

“What if it was a mistake?”  Penny asks Oscar in barely a whisper.

He looks at her.  “What if what was a mistake?”

Penny takes a breath she wholly doesn’t need, but the action she learned is one that people do when they need to prepare themselves to say something important.  “Me becoming the Winter Maiden.  I have my father’s aura.  I’m not a real girl.  I tricked some of the most important magic in the world and stole it from humanity and…” she trails off, unsure of how to finish her self-doubting argument.

At first, Oscar doesn’t reply.  Then, “I have Ozpin’s magic, and his memories,” he says slowly.  “Does that make me him?”

“Of course not,” Penny retorts.  “You’re your own person!”

Oscar grins, and Penny gets the feeling it was his ploy to get her to say that, for both their sakes.  “So, if I can still be me, even if I have a wizard living in my head, then why can’t you be your own person even if your father gave you some of his aura?” He posits.

Penny huffs.  “I know I’m not the same being as my father.  There is substantial evidence supporting the concept that we are two entirely separate entities, but I have his aura, and he is a man.  The maiden powers only attach to females.  Therefore, logically, they should not have come to me.”

“So, following that reasoning, aura and gender are linked,” Oscar muses.  He pauses and, if Penny weren’t so wrapped up in her own tumultuous thoughts, she’d recognize the signs that he’s mentally preparing himself to say something he considers very important.  “What if I had evidence to the contrary?”

“What do you mean?”  Penny asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Oscar doesn’t look at her.  His shoulders hunch in.  Instinctively, Penny reaches over and wraps a reassuring arm around his shoulders.  She doesn’t know what he’s going to say next, but she can still recognize it’s hard for him to say.

“I was…I am…Penny, do you know what being transgender is?”

Penny doesn’t reply.  The moment she heard the unfamiliar word, she immediately sent out an inquiry to the Internet to find its meaning.

“Transgender,” she finally says.  “Denotes or relates to a person whose gender identity and expression does not correspond with what it was at birth.”

Oscar lets out a sharp laugh.  “That’s one way of putting it, I guess.”  He pauses.  Sensing he’s not finished, Penny waits for him to continue.  He does.  “For me, it means, when my parents’ only child was born, they had a daughter.”  Oscar glances at her warily, but Penny doesn’t interrupt.  He gazes down at his hands, and sighs.  “And that they never got to meet their son either.  They died before he figured that out about himself.”  Hurriedly, he adds, “That’s not the point,” while wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Penny hugs Oscar, hoping to communicate that he doesn’t have to explain further to her if he doesn’t want to.

Oscar leans into the hug.  He doesn’t wrap his arms around Penny in return, but he does rest his weight on her.  “The point is,” he starts again.  “I once had…doubts.  Kind of like you do.  But I learned aura and gender aren’t really related.  Aura is just aura.  It doesn’t really concern itself with any other part of you.  It’s just there.  Completely yours.  It’s what we believe about ourselves, our identities, that makes us who we are.”

“But my aura is my—”

“Yours.”  Oscar sits back.  “Penny, have you ever considered that all parents create their children’s auras when they conceive them?”

“What?”

“It’s something Oz told me once.  We had a conversation kind of like this.”  Oscar inhales slowly and exhales.  “Oz told me everything comes from somewhere.  He has…interesting theories on the origins of Dust and semblances, for instance.  But he told me, our parents are always a part of us, because they gave a part of themselves to make us.  He said, because of that, mine will always be with me.”  Oscar stares down at his hands.  “Even if I never got to know them.  My aunt used to say the same, that I had my father’s laugh and my aura is nearly the same shade of green as my mother’s, but she’s not an ancient, mystical immortal, so I guess she was harder to believe.”

He smiles softly.  “It’s reassuring, in a way.  To know they gave me part of who I am.  My aura.  My laugh.  My appearance, to an extent.  But they didn’t decide who I am.  I’ve done that on my own.”  Oscar looks up at Penny.  “So have you.  You said it yourself.  You aren’t your father.  You have substantial evidence proving that.”

“But you’re human.  I’m not alive.  I don’t have a soul like—”

“How do you know?”  Oscar interrupts.  “How do you know you don’t have a soul?”

Penny hesitates, and then admits what she’s been thinking,  “I died.  I died and I didn’t go to an afterlife or anything.  I just shut down like any other old machine.”

There’s a long pause where Oscar doesn’t say anything.  Penny begins to think he doesn’t have an argument to refute her claim.  When she’s about to stand and walk away, Oscar finally speaks.

“What if you weren’t dead?”  He asks quietly.

“What?”

“Your father recovered your core, you, from Amity Arena, and used it to rebuild you.  A part of you never shut down completely.  In your own way, you were still alive.”  Though the words seem more like an statement, Oscar speaks them like he’s asking a question.

“I guess.”  Penny frowns.  She’s never really thought of it like that before.  Everyone told her she died, so she assumed she had.  But, a part of her had still existed in the world, hadn’t it?  Vulnerable.  Weak.  But not snuffed out completely.

Penny thinks about it more deeply.  Maybe it was like she had been in a coma?  When people are grievously injured, they can go into comas.  They don’t necessarily remember what happens during them either.  They wake up on the other end still alive, just with a gaping hole of time they weren’t conscious for in their life.  Like her.

“That doesn’t mean I have a soul or will go to an afterlife like everyone else,” Penny mumbles, but she’s not as certain that she believes herself now.

“Penny, I’m not sure how else to tell you this, but no one knows what happens to us after we die.  Not even me, and I—well, Ozma—sort of died once.  Actually, it was more like a couple times.”  Oscar winces.  “But Ozma didn’t maintain memories of what happened to him after once the God of Light brought him back.”  He smiles at her.  “Wondering about it, I think, is one of the most human things someone can do.”

“Oh.”  Penny considers the idea that she’s just as alive as everyone else is, and lets that sink in.

“If it helps.”  Oscar leans back on his hands and looks up to the small sliver of sky that’s visible to them.  “We’re probably the only two people who can be completely certain about their identities.”

“How so?”  Curious, Penny cocks her head.

“I was chosen as the next life as an immortal who only reincarnates into men.  You’re the Winter Maiden, who can only be a girl.”  Oscar shrugs.  “We were each chosen by magic older than this incarnation of humanity itself based on the identities we decided for ourselves.  If that’s not validating, I don’t know what is.”

“I never thought about it like that.”  Penny sighs.  “I—I thought I tricked it.  That I looked enough like a girl that the maiden powers came to me because they had no place else to go.”

“The maiden powers are meant to go to those who will travel out in the world and make it a better place because they are able to.  I think that fits you pretty well.”

[littlesliceofmarvel]

I’m Here For You

Request: Hi! Can I please get one where the reader is friends with Steve and is introduced to Bucky. They both feel an instant connection but Bucky tries to push her away because he thinks he's not worthy of her. So she does little things like puts a blanket over him when he falls asleep and other things to make him feel more comfortable and to be there for him and help him. Then eventually it leads to them getting together (which also makes Steve very happy). Thank you!

Warnings: Swearing, HELLA FLUFF

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

A/N: Listen this idea is SO CUTE ok enjoy, it’s also really long, sorry not sorry. x

Calling Steve Rogers your best friend was an understatement, the guy was practically a brother to you. You had been his neighbour when he got his first apartment, waking up 70 years after falling under ice. The two of you grew close and when he joined the Avengers, you grew close to them as well. Tonight, he had invited you to Stark’s Christmas party because in his words, you ‘don’t party enough.�� You agreed, loving the chance to get dolled up. You wore a floor length red dress and had your hair styled very 40s - what can you say? Steve rubbed off on you. 

You stepped out of your apartment and came face to face with the soldier, who wore a clean tuxedo.

“Look at you, you stud,” you grinned at him, causing him to blush slightly.

“Me? You look amazing, (y/n).”

You winked at him and thanked him, before locking your door and making your way out of the building, calling a cab. Tony insisted on sending you guys a limo to pick you up, but that luxury was so not your style, so the two of you hopped into a cab and took off. 

Once you arrived at Stark Tower, the two of you made a beeline for the elevator and up to the top floor. Steve seemed clearly nervous about something, so you gave him a small nudge of the shoulder.

“You seem antsy, what’s up?” You smiled up at him.

“Sharon’s going to be here,” He sheepishly admitted, causing you to smirk.

“Oooooh, I see, I see,” You chuckled, “Is that why you got extra glammed up? You trying to woo her with your fashion sense?” You teased and he shook his head, laughing slightly.

When the elevator reached your floor, Steve let out a long sigh before the two of you stepped out. There were already a couple dozen people in the room, the music blasting, and a large Christmas tree stood dead center. You immediately noticed Tony standing by the window, a large crowd around him, as usual. 

“Hey, man,” Steve stuck his hand out and fist bumped a brunet who approached the two of you. His long brown hair hung in his face, and your eyes immediately went to his left arm, which was metal. This must be Bucky. You had heard a lot about the infamous James Barnes, but because of his past, he was always being monitored, so you never got to meet him.

“Buck, this is (y/n), my neighbour,” Steve grinned to you and you smiled at Bucky, who kept his eyes on you without saying anything.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you,” you smiled, “I’ve heard so many stories about you from Steve here,” you gave the blond a small nudge.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too, it’s nice to finally have a face to the stories,” Bucky smiled and you chuckled slightly. You had seen images of Bucky back in the 40s from Steve and the museum, but there’s something about him in person that’s breathtaking. His blue eyes were warm, yet cold at the same time, and his hair was quite luscious. 

“Oh, shit, there’s Sharon, what do I say?” Steve pulled the two of you closer and motioned in the direction of Sharon Carter, who you had also heard about waaay more times than you care to admit. 

“Be yourself, Steve,” you gave him a thumbs up.

“But not too much,” Bucky smirked at him, to which he rolled his eyes before walking off, leaving you and Bucky grinning at him as he approached her like a teen boy with a crush.

You turned your attention back to Bucky, “So...”

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, Steve really isn’t that great at introducing people, I’ll do it better, I’m Bucky.”

“(Y/N),” you smiled up at him, taking in his facial features as he swooped his hair out of his beautiful face, “This must be weird for you, huh? You know, not being in the 40s.”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, it’s really something. I still wake up sometimes expecting to be back home in my bed in Brooklyn, it takes a while to adjust.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed an empty couch by the corner of the window, and nodded your head in it’s direction, “You want to go sit?” He nodded and followed you over. Once you sat down, the bustle of the party was no longer surrounding you, so maybe you could get a chance to know this guy.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Bucky asked, turning his attention to you.

You smiled, “I’m sort of in between things at the moment. I recently got fired from my job at the New York Times for refusing to write about the Avengers, actually.”

“No shit,” Bucky said, “Well, I’m sorry to hear.” He smiled at you, moving his hair out of his face once again.

“Nah, it’s okay,” you shrugged, “Boss was a twat anyways, so it was about time I got out of there.”

You sat there for another half hour, maybe more, getting to know the man in front of you. You understood why Steve was so fond of him, he was a genuine, kind man, and he had been horribly misunderstood. It broke your heart to think of how he had been treated, and you knew he deserved so much better than that. You felt a connection to him from the moment you met him, and you knew that it was something you wanted to pursue, but you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. Bucky clearly had some personal issues he needed to deal with first, but you really wanted to get to know him.

“(Y/N)!” Steve came rushing over to you, phone to his ear, “There’s been a break in, in both of our apartments.”

“What?” You stood up, eyes wide, “Why? Who was it? What did they take? Should we go?” You waited for Steve to get an answer before pestering him with more questions.

“No, I don’t think we should,” he pulled the phone away from his ear, “They found two guys in your flat, both Hydra. They need to do a scan of the building, they say it might take two days.”

“Two days?!” You shouted, “I can’t afford a hotel, Steve, where am I going to stay?”

Steve hung up the phone and put his hands on your shoulders, “Tony’s got loads of space, don’t worry.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not going to impose on Stark, I can’t do that.”

“You’re not imposing,” Tony walked up behind Steve, smiling, “I’d be honoured to have you stay here. Fair warning, you’ll be getting the room next to mine.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Tony. But I don’t have anything except this dress, heels, and my phone.” 

Tony grinned again, “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, done deal. See you then!” Just like he arrived, he disappeared back into the crowd and you shook your head, smiling, before sitting back down, noticing Bucky was no longer on the couch next to you. You looked around and couldn’t find him anywhere, he must have left.

-

The next couple of days went by without a hiccup. Tony got you a change of clothes, toiletries, and new shoes, keeping his promise. You stayed in the room next to Steve, much to Tony’s dismay. Across from your room was Bucky’s, who spent a lot of time in there. The past couple of days you hadn’t seen him much and when you did, he didn’t talk to you that much. You were worried that the only reason he spoke to you at the party was because he was drunk, and that in his sober reality, he didn’t actually want to talk to you.

This was keeping you up one night, and after tossing and turning for about an hour, you decided to get up and get a drink of water. You stood up and threw a shirt on, and slowly walked down the hallway, not wanting to wake anyone up. When your reached the kitchen, there was already a light on, but no one in sight, so you shrugged it off and walked over to the fridge. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a hand resting on the back of the couch, but your heart picked up it’s pace when you noticed it was a metal hand. You slowly walked towards the couch and what you saw melted your heart. Bucky laid passed out, one arm thrown over his torso and the other on the back of the couch. He clearly didn’t plan on falling asleep here as he still had his shoes on. You smiled at the sight and picked up a blanket from the back of the couch, lightly placing it on top of the sleeping soldier, being careful not to wake him.

You walked back to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water with the utmost care, not wanting to disrupt Bucky. Once you finished your glass, you turned to place it in the sink when you heard a small whimper come from the couch. Looking back, you noticed Bucky’s fingers twitching.

“No...” he mumbled, and you realized he was having a nightmare. Your heart shattered and you placed the glass in the sink before slowly walking over to the couch. His face showed signs of distress and you softly placed your hand on top of his.

“Bucky, hey, wake up,” you whispered, rubbing his hand lightly. He jumped out of his slumber and faced you, instantly relaxing and taking a deep breath once he realized it was a dream.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize, it’s alright.”

He smiled softly at you before closing his eyes once again, sighing, “This happens all the time.”

You smiled sadly, “I know, I’m sorry.”

He sat up and scooted over, making room for you as he didn’t take his eyes off of you, “I hate it, you know? I feel so guilty all the time, everything is my fault. People keep trying to comfort me telling me it wasn’t me, but I still have to live with the visions of what I’ve done. It doesn’t just go away.”

You sat silently, letting him vent.

“During the day I can at least try to push the Winter Soldier out of my mind, but at night, it hits me and I can’t escape it.”

You placed your hand on his metal one, causing him to tense up slightly, “Bucky, I can’t imagine how you feel about all of this, really, because I haven’t been through that, but you need to know that everyone in this building is willing to help you. We all care for you and you’ve been through enough shit to last a lifetime, and you don’t deserve that. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I really am, but I’m here if ever you need me. I helped Steve through his dark times so I’m good at that sort of thing,” you chuckled slightly and he smiled, still never taking his eyes off of you.

“You don’t need to deal with my shit,” he grumbled before standing up, tossing the blanket aside with a confused face, and starting to walk off, but you grabbed his hand and stood up too.

“Hey, you don’t deserve to deal with that stuff either, but doing it alone is so much worse than having someone there for you, I’m not going to let you suffer,” you said, eyes locked on his.

He shook his head, “I can’t drag you down with this, my guilt is too much for a lot of people, I don’t deserve someone like you to help me.”

You placed a finger to his lip to shush him, “I’m here for you, Bucky.”

He turned away from you, “No, I don’t deserve it, leave me alone.”

-

The next couple of days went much better. Steve still didn’t feel safe with you returning to your apartment so Tony agreed to let you guys stay as long as you wanted, and now that you knew Bucky well enough, you wanted to stay to help him. You often rushed to his room in the middle of the night while he had nightmares, or stayed up late with him when he was too afraid to sleep. You never left his side when he was down and Bucky will never understand how he got lucky enough to have you help him. He knew you were sad about his situation, but you kept a smile on your face around him and because of that, he felt a smile more often.

You would wake up early in the morning and be the first face he saw before going for his morning run with Steve, and when he returned, you had made them a nice breakfast. You knew Bucky didn’t take care of himself so you did it for him. He hated that you were taking up your time to take care of him, not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t feel worth it.

He felt himself being drawn to you, he felt a strong connection to always want to be with you, and you with him. Steve constantly asked you if there was something going on, and you’d have to brush him off before you found yourself blushing and imagining what that would be like.

It’s a night when you thought about these things the most, naturally, so you found yourself being kept awake a lot more often than you’d like. Deep down, you knew it was because you wanted to be awake for Bucky’s nightmares, but you couldn’t admit that because when you accept your feelings, it’s just a downward spiral from there.

This night, you were doing just that, and no matter how much tossing and turning you did, your thoughts didn’t drift from the mysterious soldier once.

“Miss (y/n), I sense high levels of stress coming from Agent Barnes’ room,” Friday’s voice broke your thoughts and you jumped out of bed, completely forgetting pants, and rushed across the hall to Bucky’s room. You opened the door and saw him tossing in his sleep, small groans coming from the sleeping soldier. You sat next to his figure and placed a hand on his forehead, and his eyes opened instantly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shoving his face down on the pillow, “I’m so sorry, you need to sleep, go back to bed.”

You shook your head, smiling, “No, no, I’m not leaving just yet.”

He pulled his face from the pillow and looked you dead in the eyes, a small smile on his lips, “You’re amazing, I’m sorry. Thank you.”

You placed a light kiss on his forehead and he shivered under your touch, “I’m here for you, Barnes, remember?” he nodded, “Do you want a glass of water?”

He shook his head, “No, no, I’m alright, I have one,” he motioned to his side table where there was indeed a glass of water. You smiled down at him and started running your fingers through his hair, something that you found soothed him instantly. His eyes fluttered shut and your heart soared at the thought of you being the only one who can calm him down like this. You continued to do so for another couple of minutes until you noticed him drifting off.

“You need to get back to sleep, Buck,” you whispered, “I’m gonna go back. I’ll see you in the morning,” you started to get off the bed, but Bucky grabbed your arm and looked up at you.

“No,” he mumbled, “Can you... uh, can you stay... for tonight?”

“In here?” You asked and he nodded, cheeks slightly rosy. You grinned at him and nodded, climbing under the blankets. Your heart was going absolutely wild, and you mentally cursed because you know he could hear things like that. You tried to keep still, not showing how excited you were to spend the night with Bucky. 

Before either of you could say anything, Bucky’s arm wrapped around your torso and he pulled you closer to him so that your bodies were touching. His arm was cold - it was metal, so no surprise - but his body was extremely warm and you found yourself leaning into his touch, resting your head against his chest as he rested his head on top of yours. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled against your forehead, placing a light kiss to it that sent you over the moon. You didn’t answer, but you smiled up at him before cuddling back up to him. Within minutes, the two of you were fast asleep.

-

“Bucky, wake up, man,” Steve’s voice broke the two of you our of your slumber. You woke up with your head shoved in the crook of his neck, his arm around your torso and your legs all tangled within each other. Your head shot up and Bucky groaned, pulling you back down.

“Go away, Steve,” The brunet grumbled, nestling his head against yours. You were lucky that your face was covered because your cheeks felt bright red. You managed to sleep through the night in the comfort of Bucky’s arms and you really didn’t want it to end. 

“Dude-” Steve opened the door and you gasped, pulling the blanket up above your head so he didn’t see you there, “Oh, my god, I’m sorry.”

Bucky chuckled, running a hand through your hair, “I told you to go away.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s mouth dropped as you waved a hand at him, not daring to face him, “I KNEW IT!” he shouted with a massive smile on his face, running out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Ugh, that was embarrassing,” You groaned when Steve finally left, turning to face Bucky who had a look of awe on his face.

“I don’t care,” he smiled at you, “I didn’t have a nightmare. The first sleep in years that I didn’t have a nightmare.”

You shot up, a huge smile on your face, “Really? That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, Buck. That must feel nice.”

“Not as nice as sleeping next to you, I can say that,” he smirked and pulled you back down, snuggling up to you once again as the two of you drifted off. Guess your apartment was going to have to wait...

[0idril0]

Way way before

Ok y’all, I am sick, so I wrote a sick fic of Nico. This takes place waaay before anything in the series, when Nico was 19. My beta readers are sleeping so if there’s lots of mistakes it’s because I’m sick and don’t care. Sorry 😬 hope y’all enjoy sick Nico!

———————————————————————

“Fucking bum... should call the damn cops on you.”

Nico flinched as a booted foot skimmed his thigh. Frightened more than anything by the weak blow.

There was a rattle as garbage was thrown into the dumpster he leaned against. He sagged in relief as the man left without kicking him. Or telling him to leave.

Nico shivered, suppressing a cough as he pulled the damp trash bag covering his equally damp blanket tighter. He swallowed bile when the smell made his stomach churn. It stunk but it was better than the incessant rain that had been falling for what felt like weeks. Nausea was his constant companion now anyway.

If it wasn’t due to the ache of hunger it was the withdrawal making itself known again. He didn’t know what it was this time. Probably both. Either way it would have to wait till tomorrow. He was too tired to move. And this was the driest spot he was likely to find tonight. He coughed again, black spots dancing in his vision.

God he just wanted to be warm.

The cough had started days ago, when the rain had taken a turn from tepid to cold. The last John that had approached him had been at least yesterday if not the day before, drugs and illness blurring the time together. It’d been at least a day since his last score. How had he gotten here. God. He was so tired.

The shuffle of footsteps at the lip of the alleyway made him freeze. Please don’t be a cop. Nico gripped the medallion his mom had left him in a clammy fist. It’d be his luck if the man had called the cops on the bum hiding against his trash can.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” The voice was older, wavering and thickly accented. Nico tucked his feet further behind the trash can, hoping it would hide him. He buried his mouth against his knees, muffling his wheezes. Please don’t see me. I’ll leave tomorrow. Please.

The feet shuffled closer and Nico tensed, trying to make himself smaller. An impossible task. He’d been trying that for years. Though drugs and homelessness had made him scarily thin, he was still 6 foot and broad enough that most people looked at him sideways.

Nicos head throbbed as he tried to figure out how close the man was based on sound. Too close. His heart pounded in his chest, and Nico held his breath.

A bright light illuminated the alleyway, searing Nico’s eyes and he jerked against the dumpster. The thick metal gave a deep thunk and Nico winced. The light turned to him and he pulled his hood down, trying to hide from the mans gaze.

“There you are. Thought maybe Abram was just yelling about nothin’.” The voice was kind but Nico trembled, pushing himself farther back into the corner.

“Pl-please...I’m so-sorry, I’ll leave t-tomorrow...Don-don’t make m-me go.” Nico’s voice was barely more than a rasp, pain clawing at his throat.

“It’s all right, no need to go anywhere. I came to tell you not to listen to Abram.” The man knelt down slowly, turning the light away from Nico’s face. “He talks a big game, but he’s got a big heart under all that gruff.”

Nico snorted, causing a wet cough to shake his frame. Groaning he struggled to breath. He man maneuvered himself until he was barely more than a foot from him. He could see the mans shoes from where he huddled. They were nice, a contrast from the grimy alley.

“Now, my name is Daniel. This dumpster here is mine, and I say you can stay here if you want to. No matter what Abram says, alright?”

Daniel bent, trying to peer under his hood. Nico turned towards the dumpster, shame eating at him.

“Alright.” Daniel stayed where he knelt, ignoring the cold drizzle. Nico felt tears gathering at the mans scrutiny. Just leave him alone. Please.

Several minutes passed and Nico started to doze, exhaustion pulling at him. A wet cough pulled him from his half stupor. When he glanced up Daniel was still there. He flinched when he met the mans gaze, head bobbing weakly.

“Hey, son, you don’t sound the best. You sure you don’t have someone I can call?” Nico hiccuped, a sob shaking his shoulders. He shook his head numbly, pushing his cold hands against his burning eyes.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright.” The man edged closer, like Nico was a cornered animal. The thought made him sob harder. He really was no more than a rabid animal. He was a 19 year old drug addicted whore, who lived on the streets. Good for nothing freeloader. Goddamn waste of space. You should have died with your family you disgusting shit.

Nico trembled as the voice continued in his head. The hate his foster families had spewed gaining a new edge with his fever. The sobbing turned into coughing and Nico grew dizzy. The world spinning around him.

When it stopped he was leaning against something warm, grunting weakly as he struggled to catch his breath. “It’s all right son, just breathe. It’s ok. That’s it, just like that. Breathe. Good job.” The warm thing moved and Nico froze, realizing he was leaning against Daniel.

“So-sorry.” He wheezed, trying to sit up.

“It’s fine son, let’s get you up, get you inside. Come on.”

Nico shook his head weakly but was unable to resist the mans grip. He swayed as he stood, Daniel’s grip on his waist the only thing keeping him standing.

“That’s it, now just one step in front of the other now, I’m too old to be carrying you.” Nico glanced at him again, the man couldn’t be older than his 60s. Nico took a breath to ask him, shuddering as another cough rattled his frame.

Daniels grip steadied him as they turned from the alley. He led him into a small shop, the heat immediately made Nico’s quaking muscles relax. He stumbled at drastic change, trying not to lean harder on the older man. “It’s ok son, just a little farther now. Abram!”

Daniel’s shout made him flinch, his head throbbing. He groaned as the man tried to coax him forward. “Come on son, almost there.” Nico stepped forward and his knees buckled, pulling him to the floor. He landed with a grunt, wheezing as he leaned away from Daniel.

“‘M sorry....” the shop blurred, going in an out of focus. Daniel’s voice did the same. A hand rested on his back, rubbing circles as he struggled to breathe.

Thick hands gripped him by the arms and heaved, pulling him to his feet. Blackness encroached on his vision at the change. The grip the only thing stopping him from collapsing. Nico moved forward, stumbling as they pulled him.

The hands guided him to sit on a soft surface, murmuring quietly. Something wet touched his face and Nico jerked, eyes flickering weakly.

“It’s all right son. You just rest ok, we’ll take care of you.” Nico didn’t fight as sleep finally took him.

[cherryscape]

So I just watched the how to train your Dragon 3 movie today!

A lot of mixed feelings going on here. I won't be mentioning any spoilers here but I will tell you guys what I like and what I don't like about this movie. I'll tag it nonetheless

The animation of this movie is off the charts. Amazing and beautiful. So much better than the previous 2 films and very aesthetic if I may say. The soundtrack is mind blowing. Everything fits so well here. Jon Powell did an absolute amazing job!

There are a lot of parallels with the first movie so that definitely something to look forward to. I like that, in this movie we get to see more of the old gang than we did in the second movie. Valka has some really nice moments. Eret isn't as much there as he was in the 2nd movie. Astrid is like a freakin queen here. She's so badass during the fight scenes!

I enjoyed the hiccstrid moments in this movie. Definitely a lot more than the first and second movie. But there moments aren't really "in your face" type. Of course their bonds have gotten stronger but it's not the main focus.

The conclusion to this movie was definitely epic.

Now on to the things I really didn't like. The fist being the pace. There's a reason why I feel like the first httyd movie is the best in trilogy is because it's so well paced. You get time to understand the characters. You get time to understand the settings. The second movie was waaay too fast for me. Like everything was happening all at once. Hiccup meeting Drago, the alpha, hiccup's mom being found and stoick dying. All of this happened so quickly that I didn't get enough time to absorb the movie. The 3rd is better when it comes to pace than the second, but again everything is happening all at once. They squeezed a lot of stuff in just 90 minutes.

Other than that, the movie is great! I didn't get tearful at the end but that's because I saw all the leaked spoilers and knew what to expect. I will say this that there are not many hicctooth moments. Like there are hiccup and toothless scenes but not as much hiccup and toothless. So fair warning to hicctooth fans.

Would definitely love to re-watch the movie when it's available to the public in HD print :)

[ashleybenlove]

Which ask would you never ever answer? And which ask would you love to get asked?

I think asks that I’m either uncomfortable by or are waaay too personal for my tastes. I also tend towards deleting asks if they’re basically chain asks (like “You’re a lovely person! Now send this to 5 others to keep the niceness going!” or whatever). Like, I appreciate the sentiment behind it but, there are better ways to send that sentiment. 

On the other side of that, I love questions about the OT6. I also would love questions that are essentially like, episode analysis/stuff related to episodes. I once wrote like, more than 1000 words on like, how Hiccup handled the situation with Snotlout in Not Lout. 

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Notes: This isn’t part of my Sanders Sides merfolk story that I’ve been writing. TBH I’m not 100% sure where this came from. @puns-and-patton @eequalsmcscared (Tagging you two because you’re my friends!)

��OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOOOOORRRNNNING! OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAAAAAAY! I’VE GOT A BEAUTIFUL FEEEEEEEEEELING! EVERYTHING’S GOin’ my waaay!” Roman sang as he and his roommates piled their beach stuff out of Logan’s car and onto the asphalt in the parking lot so they could take it down to the beach.

Virgil rolled his eyes. The only compromise for the warm weather that he’d made was a purple T-shirt under his hoodie rather than the thick, dark, long-sleeved shirt he usually wore and a pair of violet plaid swim trunks with black sandals. His hood was still up over his purple hair. “The morning isn’t that gorgeous, Your Highness,” he snarked sarcastically, glancing up. “The clouds are gonna roll in soon and we might have to evacuate early---”

“Oh hush, Debbie Downer,” Roman retorted.

“Isn’t it Danny Downer for a boy?” Patton asked, hefting three beach towels, two huge umbrellas, a bag with their clothes, and a cooler into his arms and hands.

Logan shrugged, adjusted his sunglasses over his normal glasses, and picked up another cooler and his own towel. “Does it matter? Let’s go,” he said.

The four of them picked their way down the sandy, grass-lined path to the beach. It was a secluded spot that people rarely went to. It wasn’t an uncommon belief in their town that this stretch of sand was haunted. Older people would swear up and down that on some nights they could hear the most ethereal singing coming from this particular beach. Virgil loved listening to the tales, even if he didn’t believe any of them. Patton did too, mostly for the sake of a fun story. In fact, Logan was the only one who listened with irritation. He didn’t believe in ghosts---much less ones that sang.

Logan believed the rumor that the beach was haunted came from the fact that the Sirens’ Shoals was nearby---a shallow shoal that had wrecked many speedboats when the drivers weren’t careful. Nicknamed thus because sirens used to wreck ships and drown sailors.

When the four of them reached the beach, it was as empty as they expected. No one else ever came here. But the young men didn’t mind. They liked the privacy. They could be as loud as they wanted and no one could bother them.

They reached a spot near the rocks on the beach and started to set up. Patton put up umbrellas and Logan spread out towels. Roman slathered everyone in sunscreen---especially Virgil and Logan because they burned easily---while singing Broadway songs.

Patton was enjoying Roman’s performance. Virgil wasn’t. He put his earbuds in his ears and lounged back on one of the folding loungers they’d brought.

Though Roman’s singing was loud enough to be heard through the earbuds.

After a few minutes, Virgil rolled his eyes and got out of the chair, deciding to walk along the beach to the edge where the hill started again.

He stooped every so often to pick up broken pieces of seashells. The broken ones were his favorite. Reminders that not everything in life had to be perfect to be beautiful.

Virgil stopped walking as a monster wave washed up on shore and quickly receded. He could hear his roommates crying out in surprise and scrambling to get their gear out of reach. “The highest point of high tide is not supposed to be for another three hours!” Logan shouted.

Virgil didn’t even turn around to look at them.

He was too fascinated by what the wave left behind---more than wet sand.

A person with long hair flowing down to their hips. Though their hips and legs were buried under a layer of sopping wet sand. “Uh, pardon me, uh...” Sir? Miss? Was there a polite gender-neutral honorific that he was unaware of? Captain? Your Highness? “Pardon me? Are you alright?” he finished, deciding to forego the honorific altogether.

No response.

Virgil took a cautious step closer. The person was face-down so everything was hidden. Their face, their mouth---he hoped they could breathe---and anything that would indicate whether or not they were even alive.

Were they dead? Was that common? Was that why this place was thought to be haunted? Dead bodies washing up on the shore? How grim. He kinda enjoyed the thought. Another careful step towards the person. He should probably have called out for Patton and the others...

“Hello?” he pressed quietly.

The person sat up with a deep gasp, eyes wild and mouth open wide. They were covered in sand and panting. They seemed to present femininely, but Virgil decided not to preemptively assume anything.

They stared at him for several moments, still panting, as something dawned in their---remarkably dark---eyes. Which flicked up and down Virgil. Then focused on his legs.

Then another gasp. The newcomer scrambled toward the sea with their arms. Virgil noticed the legs dragging through the sand, still buried under a layer so he couldn’t see them well. Virgil didn’t even know what to do so he just stood, rooted to the spot, and watched them try to make it back into the water. The monster wave had washed them up pretty far though.

The person stopped. There was a moment of stillness. They slowly sagged back down onto the sand.

Virgil heard them crying.

He approached again---but only a few steps. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Those dark eyes turned back to look at him. The crying continued.

Okaaay... other people crying was really out of Virgil’s comfort zone. He really needed to call for Patton...

No need.

“Great Odin’s eyepatch!” Roman exclaimed from two feet behind Virgil’s left ear. He jumped and smacked his boisterous roommate’s arm. “Patton! Get over here!”

Running in sand was difficult but Patton managed to reach them in good time. “Oh sweetie!” he whispered, looking heartbroken that this person, half-buried in wet sand, was weeping. “It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you. What’s wrong?”

The person hiccuped. “I... I can never go home,” they murmured quietly.

“Aw. Why not?” Patton pressed, approaching gently, hands out to show he meant no harm. He crouched next to them.

They threw their arms around Patton. “I lost my tail! And now I can never go home!”

Huh?

Virgil scrunched his eyebrows. “Your tail?”

The person nodded and wiggled their hips. The wet sand slid off their lower half---

To reveal a scaly fish tail. Long and elegant. Shimmering turquoise in the sunlight with a hint of silver on the edges. The fluke was wide and gracefully draped over the sand.

“By Persephone! You’re a mermaid!” Roman gasped. He caught himself. “I mean---I didn’t mean to presume. What I meant was---you’re a merperson. A member of the merfolk, if you will---”

The newcomer waved their hand dismissively. “Don’t hurt yourself. Mermaid is fine. I’m a girl,” she said.

Patton kept his hand on her shoulder. “Doesn’t look like you lost it to me,” he said comfortingly. “How come you can’t go home?”

She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I got caught in a fishing net. Pulled into a fishing boat. Once I was out of the water, my tail turned into legs.” As she spoke, a shimmer that resembled heat off a hot road passed over her long tail, revealing a pair of short, thin legs and a skirt of scales. “In my pod, if we lose our tail to legs for even a moment we are no longer welcome home.”

“How come?” Patton asked gently.

The mermaid girl’s eyes hardened. “Because humans are a disease to the planet and it’s a disgrace to walk among them.”

Roman made a noise that sounded what, “???” felt like.

Virgil grunted, arms folded over his ribs.

The girl broke down again. “And now I have to walk among them for the rest of my life or return to the ocean podless!” She buried her face in her hands and cried even harder. “Merfolk can’t survive without a pod. Not even me.”

Virgil crouched in front of her, relating to that sentiment. Much as his roommates got on his nerves at times, he didn’t know where he’d be without them. Certainly in a less-happy place than he was currently in.

Patton and Roman looked thoughtful for a moment.

And then Logan finally joined the party. “What’s all the hullabaloo abou---oh.” He stared at the girl. “Where... did you come from?” he asked.

“That big wave washed her up,” Virgil supplied.

“Ah. I see.”

Another wave washed up on the sand, Roman danced out of the way but Patton let it wash right over his lower body so the mermaid girl could continue to hold onto him. The wave hung on the sand for a moment and then receded back to the sea. Clumps of wet sand slid off the girl’s tail---which had reformed with the water.

Logan stared at her tail. “That’s not... that’s not possible!”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Virgil muttered. “It’s literally right in front of your eyes.”

“But Virgil---mermaids aren’t real.”

“We are too,” the girl retorted, getting over her sorrow for a moment to drown it in sass. “We just don’t like humans so we don’t contact them.” She gave him a sarcastic grin.

“Hey, we never caught your name,” Patton pointed out.

The girl bit her lower lip. “It’s, uh, it’s kinda hard to say in English. Hmm. Uh... you can call me... Aaralyn,” she said.

“Aaralyn. How about you come home with us for a couple days?” Patton suggested. “We’ll help you figure everything out.”

“Uh... why?” Logan put in.

“We’ll explain in a minute,” Virgil said. He turned his attention back to Aaralyn. “Yeah kid. We’re pretty chill. We can give you a couple pointers on human life.”

She shook her head. “I really couldn’t ask you---we’re practically strangers---”

“That’s okay. You need help,” Patton pressed.

“Not to mention you’re a mermaid,” Roman added, looking awestruck.

“Which is not the point,” Patton chastised.

“Nah. Just a bonus,” Virgil put in, arms still folded over his chest.

“How about this, kiddo. We came to the beach to play and hang out. How about you stay with us till it’s time for us to go home and then make your decision?”

Aaralyn nodded. “I can do that,” she said.

Patton beamed. “Wonderful!”

Virgil watched Patton and Roman have a water fight in the waves with a disinterested expression on his face. Logan was reading a book on his foldable lounge chair. When Virgil glanced at said book, he expected it to maybe be a mystery novel---Logan’s favorite type of novel to read. Nope. Logan was legitimately sitting on a lounge chair reading a chemistry textbook.

“Didn’t you graduate college, like, six years ago?” Virgil asked.

“Yes,” Logan said blandly.

“So how come the textbook?”

“It’s fascinating.”

Virgil blinked. “Right,” he said.

“What’s a textbook?” Aaralyn asked from where she had quietly been sculpting the sand into a coral reef.

“It’s a type of book meant to teach,” Logan said. “Most often used for school.”

“Correction: only used for school by everyone except you,” Virgil joked. “You’re the only person I know who reads textbooks for enjoyment.” Logan shrugged and turned his page, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“PATTON!” Roman shouted. “PATTON THAT’S A RIP!”

The three heads of those on the beach whirled to see Patton fighting against a current, struggling to make it back to shore.

Aaralyn sprung to her feet and bolted into the waves. Virgil jumped up as well and ran to the edge, only able to watch as she dove in with perfect diving form. After a moment the fluke of her tail smacked the top of the water as it disappeared under.

There were several tense moments of silence while Patton fought the riptide before Aaralyn’s head appeared behind him. She wrapped one arm around his chest and pulled him onto his back. Roman, Logan, and Virgil watched tensely as she gently pulled him out of the riptide, off to the side, and then back to the beach. Patton washed up gracelessly, coughing and crawling onto dry sand on all fours.

Aaralyn washed up looking even worse, tail flapping uselessly in water too shallow to swim in and hair hanging in sopped clumps on either side of her face. Both of them were panting, sagged in the sand and not getting up.

Patton regained his feet first and went over to Aaralyn, offering her his hand. She took it and let him help her back to her face once her tail vanished.

Virgil would never tell Roman, but Patton was the strongest of the four roommates. Patton liked going to the gym and working out so he was strong enough to take care of his friends---and give the absolute best hugs.

One of which he immediately bestowed upon Aaralyn. He wrapped her up in a powerful hug. “You saved me,” he whispered.

Virgil ran and wrapped his arms around both of them. Aaralyn flinched but didn’t retreat.

Roman trudged out of the sea and he joined the group hug. Logan hung back, not particularly fond of physical affection.

“Thank you, Aaralyn,” Virgil said quietly.

She nodded. “Of course,” she replied.

“Are you going to let us help you learn to be human now?” Patton asked. “Come stay with us so we---well, I---can repay you?”

Aaralyn sighed. “You owe me nothing, Patton,” she said.

“Yes I do.”

“We all do. Patton is the heart of our little... band. We’d be lost without him,” Virgil said.

Aaralyn “Hmm”ed and rocked back and forth in the sand. “Oh. Well... alright,” she agreed. “Just for a little while.”

Patton beamed. “Yay! This’ll be fun!”

[theendcaller]

@starcall​ liked for a starter~

Another work night ended. As always, Club Euphoria bid farewell to its patrons at 4am, and soon afterwards its employers. This particular morning someone had decided to celebrate their birthday, and while Fandaniel personally could care less about the lives of his fellow coworkers, he of course partook in the revelry. More than what was wise, true, but when was he ever one to play it safe? Never.

So here lays Fandaniel, sprawled out in the sand of Spirale’s Municiple beach in the dark, head awhirl. Since the sun has yet to make its debut, the stars still speckle the sky, though they are too blurry for Fandaniel to even attempt to make out right now. He can only assume they must be some sight though, for the only other person on the beach at this early hour is a ways down gazing up at them. Or…at least so he thinks. That person, just like the stars, is too blurry and he cannot say for certain what they are up to.

All and all, it is peaceful here, with the soft, steady crashes of the waves and the light breeze being the only sounds to fill the silence. Too, too peaceful. To offset this, Fandaniel decides to serenade those ugly, fuzzy little stars up above. He raises his arms to the sky from where he lays, takes in a big deep breath and....well, the noise that proceeds to come out of his mouth could not be worse. Still, it is disruptive to the peace, which is his aim. Serenity is dead, and he hopes the other person on the beach with him “appreciates it”.

“OHHH, prettiest staaar in the sky! Light of my lii~~~iiffe at last I found my waaay! Into your arms, I’m hooome!  OoOOOhhh….” The abysmal singing quickly devolves into a loud fit of shrieking laughter and relentless hiccups. Equally as grating.

Alas, Fandaniel is about to discover out that the one who’s tranquility he means to ruin is yet another one of Hydaelyn’s finest.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Hi! I hope you're having a lovely day, and I want to share with you a small detail that I noticed in Viggo's flashback in RTTE S5. When we see Viggo fall into the volcano, he was holding the dragon eye in his hand. But in the last episode of the previous season, he fell into the volcano AFTER the dragon eye is gone. Do you think this could have been a mistake or did he really caught it mid-air? Personally, I don't think the latter is possible since he fell waaay after the dragon eye was lost.

Hey there! I hope you’re having a wonderful, lovely day, too. And whoa! Good attention to detail!

You are absolutely right - during “Shell Shocked Part 2,” Hiccup throws the Dragon Eye into the volcano, Viggo rushes to the edge of the volcano, and watches it plunge downward. 

Only after the ground of the volcano splits beneath Viggo’s feet does he fall into the volcano, too, a good several seconds after the Dragon Eye has already fallen downward.

And it’s not like the Dragon Eye is a feather, where air resistance would cause it to fall so much more slowly that Viggo could catch it mid-air. As you yourself say, it’s extraordinarily unlikely Viggo could catch it because he falls so much later than the Dragon Eye. Presumably the Dragon Eye would have already landed by this point.

Yet the flashback of “The Wings of War Part 1″ indeed shows Viggo holding the Dragon Eye as he falls to the bottom of the volcano.

So what happened?

I’m an analysis blog that primarily prefers describing events only as though they’re the real deal in canon - that because they’re what we see, they’re what actually occurs, no questions asked. I don’t usually like to look from a meta perspective outside of the events - so I usually don’t talk about “mistakes.” Rather, I like to talk about the best way we as audiences can interpret the events we see on screen to be logical and consistent in-universe.

So sure, we could say the animators made a mistake or something. Sure, that’s likely what happened from the production angle of things. I recognize internally where mistakes probably happened from an outward production angle of things. But that’s boring as fuck to say and doesn’t help us at all when we want to consider understanding the integrity inside the story. What is on screen is what it is, and we as fans have the power of interpretation on our side.

And I do think that there is a good plausible explanation for the “inconsistency” between the two volcano scenes. They don’t have to be inconsistent. The first scene in “Shell Shocked Part 2″ is the actual event - Hiccup watching Viggo fall into a volcano after the Dragon Eye. That’s the event, concrete, unyielding. The second volcano scene is Viggo’s memory of the event.

And the truth is, the animators themselves clearly present this as a memory from Viggo’s mind. When Krogan asks Viggo if he’s sure the Dragon Eye is down there, the camera pans in on Viggo’s face. Then it transitions to the flashback. The implication is that this is Viggo’s mental answer to Krogan’s question, that Viggo is remembering and reliving this moment and recalling exactly why the Dragon Eye is still down there.

But the thing with memories is… they’re notoriously unreliable. Terrifyingly unreliable. How people remember a car crash they just saw can be manipulated simply by the phraseology of someone asking questions about the event - for instance, if I asked about “smashing head on” versus “bumping into,” you’re going to remember a crash of differing intensities. We like to say that our eyewitness testimony is critical, but the truth is, our memories are fragile, easily manipulated, and often untrustworthy once we triangulate with other sources outside personal recall.

So even though this is a huge and traumatic event for Viggo, he’s not necessarily going to recall it correctly. He could incorrectly remember holding the Dragon Eye as he falls. What we see in the flashback is what Viggo recalls, not necessarily what happens. And so we see that he “remembers it wrong” for a few details.

There is a third possibility we could propose outside of Viggo catching the Dragon Eye mid-air, or Viggo recalling the scene incorrectly. It could also be that the Dragon Eye landed on a ledge at first. When Viggo started falling, he could have “caught up” with the Dragon Eye’s descent - whether that means that the Dragon Eye started falling again when Viggo fell (due to the ground shifting)… or Viggo hitting the same ledge the Dragon Eye is on, grabbing it, and then continuing to fall… or any number of plausible variations that would cause Viggo and the Dragon Eye to come in contact with one another.

Personally, what I see between these two scenes is one concrete event happening, one incorrect memory recall. Something like this is going to happen so fast that your memory won’t process everything perfectly. How long would it have taken Viggo to plunge to the volcano? Not long at all. It would be a flurry of vision, an intensity of heat… but he would clearly remember the Dragon Eye lying just a few feet away from him on a stone. His mind could have filled in the rest and processed that he “held it” until he reached the bottom of the cauldron.

[noctemusfic]

☵ It's Not A Beginning

A Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Fan Fiction by Noctemus. Can be read on: @AO3

Characters/Pairing: Christine Everhart/Tony Stark Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters portrayed herein. This is for fan enjoyment only and no profit gained nor sought.

Note:

I like Tony paired with people outside of 'mainstream' or fanfav (Stony comes to mind). This is one.

It's unbeated so so you're bound to find some errors. All mistakes are my own. If you find something glaring please let me know. Enjoy.

Summary: He can already feel whatever good his time spent with the blond vixen had done for his state of mind is draining away as the cloak of being Tony Stark comes around him again.

☵ It's Not A Beginning- 1/1

☳ ☼ ☳

The angle was wrong for the sun to shine right into the bedroom window but the light reflected from the building in front was glaring enough that Tony grimaces as he plants his feet on the soft carpet next to the bed, the chill of the floor warded off by the thick fabric.

He idly wonders if he can get the stubborn woman to invest in some blackout curtains, but he can already imagine her list all the numerous points against it. All valid enough that it wouldn't be worth the effort it would take to convince her.

After all, it was a rare enough occurrence for him to be in her room at this time of the day.

Standing up, Tony makes quick work to slip his watch back over his wrist, pulling his socks on while keeping his pants from sliding down his legs, and put on the wife-beater he favors that has the extra thick fabric in front to obscure the light emitted by his arc-reactor.

Eyeing distastefully the shirt that had ended up on the floor earlier that day he shakes it out, trying to get rid of as much of the wrinkles as possible.

A muffled laughter makes Tony look up, meeting the amused blue eyes of his favorite reporter who has apparently just woken up. Tony watches as she puffs up the pillow and wraps her arms around it before resting her head on it, primed to watch him dress.

“You know the suit is going to cover it,” Christine points out. Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs it on and says. “I know, that’s not really the point.”

“There is a point?” Christine smirks as she shifts and rests her head in her hand. She shakes her head as she watches Tony tug at the sleeves, mild irritation tugging the edges of his mouth down. Rolling onto her back, Christine scoots back towards the headboard and remarks, “you are such a snob.”

“And you’re not?” Tony shoots back as he looks around.

“I've said it before and I’ll say it again. You can always leave a change of clothes here.”

“Right, because no one would notice if I showed up dressed differently than how I was when I went out.” It is obvious what Tony thinks of that, the mockery clear in his voice.

“It wouldn't raise any eyebrows either,” Christine points out. True, Tony concedes, and his teammates would already know if they could get their head out of each other - not finishing that thought, thankyouverymuch.

Except...

How had they thought they could keep it from him. Jarvis gives him eyes everywhere. Not to mention subtlety isn't exactly their strong suit, at least not for the behemoth of a man, or god as the case may be, and the ferocious appetite he apparently has to anything in life, or Rogers for that matter with his supposed 40’s era sensibilities that turned out to be less than archaic.

He’d been more than surprised, downright shocked really when he realized the good Captain and the God of Thunder was apparently bumping uglies together. Obviously, at all those late night sparring session more happened than what they had let everyone believe.

He can deal. Tony is a lot of things, but he tries not to be a hypocrite. If his teammates want to do the horizontal dance with each other he isn't going to begrudge, or judge, them that.

And if Rogers doesn't think he can tell him then it is his choice. See, he can be mature Pepper. That people thought he wouldn't notice what is essentially happening under his very nose rubs him the wrong way. Willful ignorance was bound to cause pain and he has permanent scars to attest to that. Accusing him of being paranoid and then not expect him to be hyper-vigilant is just downright stupid.

Watching and learning is what he does. What he has always done. It’s how he realized that the twosome, had turned into more-some. Some digging later and it turns out everyone was playing tickle the sausage with each other.

How they made it work was something he hasn't figured out yet. Thor, Rogers, Barton, Romanov, and his little science bro, Banner.

Five, an odd number, that. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised to find out that Agent is in on it too. Everyone sans him. How fucking typical is that.

What did they have that he doesn't?

“Tony?” Christine’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder he can see the small line between her neatly plucked brows. She had tucked the sheet around her, sitting up with her legs folded underneath her, head cocked to the side.

“Yeah?”

“You OK? You went waaay away there for a minute,” she asks, waving her hand about her head. Tony purses his lips, turning his attention to his shirt, mumbling something incomprehensible even to himself.

“Come again?”

“Am I really all that unattractive?” Tony throws over his shoulder nonchalantly after a lengthy pause while he buttoned up his shirt, inwardly cringing at how pathetic that came out. Christine snorts where she is once again gone back to lying prone on the bed.

“Not really the person you should ask that,” she says as she stretches, watching him go through the motion of putting himself back together.

“They do know that nothing gets by me, right?” Who ‘they’ were, did not need any clarification. “They are living in my Tower, for fucks sake!” Christine’s mouth quirks in clear amusement and if it had been any other time, that alone would have drawn Tony back to the bed.

“Yes, and you are one paranoid fucker. It is a known fact,” she states as she settles the sheets around her provocatively unashamed of her nudity and taking delight as Tony looks her over.

Tony hums, momentarily derailed from his train of thought. The sound of his cell phone jars him back and he shakes himself and quickly tucks his shirt into his pants and does them up.

“It’s not paranoia when it’s true.” Picking up the tie he had spotted earlier on the night table he quickly loops it around his neck.

“Anyways, if they are all banging each other, either they don’t give a shit about ‘big brother’ or they're rubbing in the fact that they haven’t invited me.” He can practically see his words go through Christine’s head and the moment it clicks what he is actually saying.

It visibly perks Christine right up and she sits up, the sheet forgotten where it pools around her waist. Tony smirks and preemptively says, “And no, you’re not allowed to write about it.”

She pouts but Tony can see in her eyes the acceptance. What they had worked only as long as both adhered to the few rules they've set up and for whatever reason, he’d found out over time that Christine is very reluctant to go against them, even if it meant losing out on some really great stories. He isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Christine shrugs and leans over, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugs him down before licking into his mouth. If he wasn't already previously engaged he wouldn't mind getting back between those sheets and into her warm welcoming body but alas, responsibility calls, or has left several voice messages in the form of one formidable Pepper Potts.

“Their loss,” Christine whispers against his lips. Tony grins and pecks her before straightening up, looking for and finding his jacket before shrugging it on.

Trailing his fingers against the edge of her jaw he watches her flop back against the pillows, for all the world with no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Putting his sunglasses on he fished his earpiece and slips it into the shell of his ear before leaving the tempting and very much delectable woman behind, calling up his driver as he does and lets Jarvis know he is on his way back.

“Do you wish me to inform Ms. Potts, Sir?” his AI inquires and even through the small earpiece Tony can hear the amusement in its voice.

Shaking his head, Tony makes his way down the stairs that lead to Christine’s small but surprisingly cozy apartment while trying to tame his hair into something less of a ‘spent the last couple of hours fucking through to shear bliss’-hair and more the proper business look he knows Pepper prefers when he is on official Stark business.

The last thing he needs is for her to shit kittens because he got some ‘piece of tail’ quote and un-fucking quote.

Pushing open the emergency door that leads to the back alley of the apartment complex, Tony is not surprised to find his car waiting for him, his driver slash bodyguard holding the door open, a flick of his eyes acknowledging Tony before going back to tracking his surroundings.

Even though, these days, Happy Hogan rarely works as his chauffeur having been offered a promotion and accepting it, Tony's knee-jerk reaction was still to expect his familiar silhouette standing there. In spite of the time passed since Happy hanged up his hat, in a manner of speaking, Tony finds himself thrown for a loop seeing someone else in his place more often than he cared to admit. Apparently, some changes are harder for him to assimilate. It lasts only for a split moment, not even noticeable to anyone but Tony himself.

Between Jarvis and Happy and with Tony’s approval, Alex, last name unpronounceable, has practically been handpicked to take over most of Happy’s former duties which were harder than anyone would think. Alex is a ruthless, efficient and above all unflappable specimen of a man that had slid right into the vacant spot with barely a hiccup.

Seeing the ever-vigilant eyes of his ‘Driver’ roaming the surrounding Tony keeps the comment that wants to slip out where it belongs, in his head. Alex precautions weren't unwarranted even by Stark standards if the last couple of months had been any indication with two failed kidnapping attempts, and boy had that been a bitch to convince Happy to keep from Pepper.

His Head of Security of all things personal (and Tony just knows that he was in cahoots with Jarvis) is a stick in the mud when it came to his safety and the compromise had been Alex, a competent scary son of a bitch that can rival Captain America in size with a humor that is downright morbid and who would say fuck you right into the Boss’ face if the request Tony gave went against his main order: that of keeping Tony alive and as safe as possible, and not necessarily in a language Tony knows.

Slipping into the cool interior of his tricked up car, if the weight he could see on the wheels is any indication, Tony makes a mental note to find out what Happy and Alex has been up to and what they had done to his poor beauty as Jarvis had been surprisingly mute on the whole affair.

Fishing out his tablet as Alex rounds the hood of the car and gets behind the wheel, Tony pulls up the briefs he needs while letting Jarvis screen through the undoubtedly irate calls of his acting CEO.

He can already feel whatever good his time spent with the blond vixen had done for his state of mind is draining away as the cloak of being Tony Stark comes around him again.

The End.

[jaderozinsky]

A sharp *hiccup* escapes Jade as she lifts the bottle still covered in a paper bag, the back of her head falling back against the headrest as she tosses the mask to the side and off her fucking ear, stupid shit...taking another deep drink it burning more than she had remembered but...that was the best part, wasn’t it? letting out a sigh of a breath as she sharply turns the dial and the Song...Up! chugging and burning, almost...sucking it back down, fuck no. The vibration from her cup holder...againnnn...fuck she was almost as bad as...a hmph moving out of her as sets the bottle between her thighs reaching over to the passengers side floor as she opens the Mickey’s 40...uncapping it and...burping yeah that was a good chaser, another laugh bitterly moving out of her as she sets it on the passenger seat, tilting her mirror down as she rubs her nose, Chaser. How fucking Funny That Was...flipping her mirror up, maybe too high but who gave a fuck right now. Not Her. Alternating between the two bottles through two...ooo(?) more songs before feeling the compulsion to drag her ass up and at em’, before her Mother, or whoever the fuck she Was...decided to come send out a search party for her, becauuuuuse that’s what Jade Does...a harsh snort coming out of her as she turns off the car, swaying some as she still kinda hears the music, stuffing the bottles back and taking the pack of beer in her other hand...don’t ever say she didn’t have a Fucking Talent...that’s for goddamn sureeee...locking the door, almost as an after-thought and making her waaay to the room one of these fucking rooms...fuck. Unintentionally Swaying a bit as she tries to remember the arrangement of numbers....closing her eyes for a few beats as she...HA! fucking A-Righttttt...turning to the side as she knocks her elbow against the door...fuuuuuck.

Always on Some Bullshit [July 23, 2020]

IN PROGRESS

- Around the same time as Jade’s Jasp & Oct texts -

Juno finishes up drying her hair in the hotel bathroom where they were staying on the route to Dartmouth, moving to fluff it a bit before heading over to rejoin Jade on the bedddd, flopping down beside her as she reachessss over for the room service menu, studying it for a beat, her brow furrowing a bit, choices, choices, before deciding… “Gotta go with the burg, it’s the Ultimate Classic,” she decides with a little wink, before…she realizes Jade was looking at her phone, looking kinda Pissed, and not just in the That Was Her Face kinda way… “Jasp on some bullshit again?” She inquires, rolling over to look up at Jadeeeee… “Just block him, he’s been in such a Mood lately, and besidesss…..” She dangles the room service menu in front of Jade, “there is Dinner waiting to be chosennnn…” Sh adds in a faux royal tone.