#httyd book fanfics

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

Title: The Quest For the Bird-That-Does-Not-Exist || Chapter 1

FFN | AO3

Summary: 

This is an unknown story in the reign and Saga of King Hiccup the Third, 13th King of the Renewed Wilderwest. One of Hiccup's Companions, Thuggory the Steadfast, Heir to the Meathead Tribe, upon hearing of Camicazi's boast of having gone to the Land-That-Does-Not-Exist, begs Hiccup to take him to that land and search for the rumoured Bird-That-Does-Not-Exist: the Gobblefeather, an elusive yet supposedly easy-to-hunt bird that only exists in the Land-That-Does-Not-Exist.

Will Hiccup and Thuggory be able to find this legendary bird, or will they be gobbled up by unseen horrors yet to be discovered?

Warnings: None

Rating: G

Chapter(s): 1 / ?

Words: 1,635

Status: In-Progress

Characters: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Thuggory, Camicazi, Fishlegs No-Name, Toothless, Windwalker, Wodensfang, Gobblefeather (OC), The Doomfang, Old Wrinkly, Druid Guardian.

Relationship(s): Hiccup & Thuggory, Hiccup & Thuggory & Gobblefeather (OC), Hiccup & Thuggory & Camicazi & Fishlegs No-Name, Hiccup & Old Wrinkly & Druid Guardian, Hiccup & Toothless, Hiccup & Toothless & Windwalker & Wodensfang

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Thank you for your support and for your patience. My apologies for being absent for so long, but here's one of the promised Thuggory fics I had planned on doing this year. I plan on posting some more fics throughout this month. Be ready!

Long Live the Wilderwest!

— Companion of the Dragonmark

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

OOooh!! Both the art and the fic are really great! Well done! 👏🏻💯

Yo guys back with more whumpy drawings

Whumpcember day 8, prompt: "No. Not like this"

This is at the end of How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel, book 10 when my boys reunite

No one dies guys don't worry

I also have a short drabble for it on AO3 @-@

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61253422

I'm so normal about these two heh

[pixiatn]

Ngl, if Hollywood actually gave a shit, they would just fucking buckle up and make a Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons movie

[thereweredragonshere]

Ref sheet from a fic I’m writing over on ao3! Hiccup has what I would like to call ‘chronic microscopicness in comparison to literally anyone except maybe toddlers’

Hiccup gets the ever living shit beaten out of him and there’s a whole bunch of self doubt, angst and just a general bad time 🤗

[knight-hiccup]

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌 ━ ✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✦ (spoilers)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 ↳ 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 ❛❛𝐲𝐨𝐮❜❜ 𝐓𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 ━━ 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 ━━ 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖 ━━ 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝟏𝟐 ━━ 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝟏𝟔 ━━ 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒 ━━ 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝟖 ━━ 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎

Meet Siftwing—a dragon with an uncanny knack for finding ease in Berk’s rough edges. His name stems from his habit of sifting through the island’s sandy shores, where he’s often found half-buried, scales glinting under a crust of sand as he dozes through the day’s heat. Don’t be deceived by his languid sprawl, though—when roused, he takes to the skies with you astride, cutting through the crisp coastal wind, his wings humming as he vies with Toothless and Hiccup in a swift, spirited chase. Proof, perhaps, that one can savor both rest and rivalry in equal measure.

Meet your dragon ❛❛Siftwing❜❜ in the story Maelstrom Art credit to the talented @alec-volturi !

[sparkylilacs]

told myself I wasn’t going to go on a rant, but here we are…

I don’t know why the new live action HTTYD exists besides money. Because it was always obvious to me that if HTTYD went live it would be to differentiate a more book centered remake.

I have pictured how it could work for years, dreaming of seeing my beloved arc of a small scrawny hiccup of a boy become King of the Wilderwest. Of becoming a hero the hard way. A series of two part episodes modeled after Netflix’s Series of Unfortunate Events.

Opening scene:

Setting a dark room lit by flickering candlelight. Viewers only catch glimpses of the room’s furnishings. Some items still stick out, a chess piece of the rough hewn desktop, a square shield just discernible leaning against it as well. In the center of the shot an old man is taking out a quill to write on his arm a bracelet glints slithering around his wrist. You only see the back of his head and his hand shakes slightly as he writes, “There were dragons when I was a boy” and a voiceover says the words (possibly in Norse for brownie points). As he reads out Hiccup’s first prologue the scene blurs into a gust of snow that clears to reveal a group of motley youths standing at the bottom of an imposing cliff face. Most of the boys are wearing little clothes despite the chill their skin reddening, but near the back of the group two smaller boys huddled near each other as a big wild bearded man yells out their instructions.

And every episode could follow that pattern of showing old Hiccup writing his journey, reading the epilogues and prologues with more little bits and pieces revealed in the room as the series progresses. Like showing old Hiccup’s chest to see he is still wearing Snoutlout’s gold star. And the best part of a long series like the books is that having the actors age throughout is a plus not a minus since Hiccup and his friends start as kids but end as young adults.

Finally the last epilogue once Hiccup sets down the quill and places the pages in a sturdy wooden chest locking it shut, a noise makes him look to the window where something is scratching. He makes a pleased gasp to let in Toothless who is as much the same as he was all those years ago.

But that isn’t quite the end after the first credits the screen goes black to saying “Many Years Later”. A clear day on a quiet beach comes into focus, a young blond girl maybe 8 or 9 is digging in the sand. In the distance getting closer her father is calling to her. Something about a bird’s nest he just climbed up the cliffs to see and he wants to point it out to her. Ignoring him the girl digs deeper and *thunk* her shovel hits something solid. Scraping it out she reveals the sturdy wooden chest, old and weathered itself now. “What’s that?”, her father asks now behind her. “I don’t know, what do you think could be in it?”. “I’m not sure,” he replies, “but let’s find out together,”.

El Fin

Sorry that got sooo long. Rant over I promise, had to get that out before I exploded!

[musicfandomtrash]

Unpopular Opinion:

The HTTYD movies are just super-expensive fanfiction of the book series.

[milksuu]

Second Magic

Pairing(s): Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & II / witch!fem!reader

Word count: 2.OK

Content/Warnings: soulmates, reincarnation, immortal, soft magic, slice of life, fluff, minimal use of y/n, minor angst, implied sexual themes, minor blood

Summary: Death claims everyone at some point. Unfortunately for you, your gift of magic cursed you with eternal youth and an ability that has shunned you from the village of Berk. More than one-hundred years later, memories resurface when you’re visited for a potion from Berk’s next chief.

He was the spitting image of your long-lost love—your soulmate—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.

a/n: hello there everyone! I'm back with something new to add to the hiccupxreader tags. still on my mythical/magical kick. I do plan to have about three parts to this. so please stay tuned for updates, or let me know if you'd like to join a tag list. thank you and please enjoy.

There came a knock at the door. No one ever knocked on a witch's door by accident.

From the bedroom window, you peeked through the muslin curtain. Below the two-story cottage, grew a garden of lush greens and wild flowers. Where the weeds and dandelions led a trail to your front porch, a figure stood at your door. More pestering thuds bothered the home and the skin of your nose wrinkled. Muttering a thing or two, you ambled down the aching stairs. Before reaching the door, you rummaged through a decorative drawer, procuring a gray river rock. It was enchanted with one of your magic spells—a screeching stone, you called it.

“You can stop trying to break down my door,” you said, pressing the stone against the entryway. “Didn’t you read the sign posted on the oak tree outside? Clearly, it said no trespassing.”

“No—think I might’ve missed it,” the muffled voice of a young man answered, and it seemed honest enough. The stone hummed at the response. “Are you [Y/N], by chance?”

“There’s a chance I could be,” you said with soured lips. “Not many people come this far into the woods. And fewer people know of me, let alone my name. Which leads me to ask, who exactly sent you?”

“Gothi sent me. She mentioned you two knowing each other,” he replied in truth, and the stone continued its soft hymns. “She said if there’s anyone who could help me, it would be you.”

She’s still alive?

“That all depends. I trust Gothi, but I’ll need to trust you as well. You can start by telling me your name.”

There was a beat in the air. “It’s Hiccup.”

The ghost of your breath trapped itself inside your chest. That name—it had been buried beneath over a century ago. Yet the stone sang sweetly, and your heart squeezed in a haunting delight. A part of you wished it would scream. Wretched and revolting as it was, it would give you reason to cast the stranger away.

To your grief, he wasn’t so much a stranger as you thought.

Pocketing the stone, you opened the door with a creak. Meeting the green meadow of his eyes, your magic dug its fiery claws between your ribs. With all your power, you tried not to let his familiar freckles unsettle you. Fearing if you did, your magic would spring out of control. The windows would shatter. The roof would crumble to dust. The fireplace would spark and scorch the floors. Or something much worse. Touch him, and reveal when death would knock on his own door.

You wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. Not ever.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider. “Come in,” you said, "we can talk more inside.”

He tipped his chin and thanked you for the invitation. When he stepped through, his gaze swept about your home. Dried flowers, herbs and spices hung from every inch of ceiling by twine. Sunlight spilled from the white-painted windows, and warmed the cushions of two chairs perched near the fireplace. Bookcases stood on either side of the mantle, stretched tall enough to touch the rafters, and wide enough to cover the entire walls. At the back of the home was the kitchen and brewing space. With emerald cabinets and honied-countertops, stacked with jars and vials, scattered petals, and corked potions.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said. “I’ll prepare us something warm to drink.”

With a blink, he tore his gaze from the foliage and oddities. “Sure, I would appreciate it.”

When you left for the kitchen, he absently traced a hand against the chairs upholstery. Although it matched its counterpart, there were subtle differences; the legs were built taller, and arm rests crafted higher. When he took a seat, it felt made for someone of his stature—an odd thing to notice. His gaze raised to a row of books on one of the bookcase shelves. One particular book stood out among the jewel-toned backs of scarlet, green, and yellow. A simple spine of leather, softened over-time with use, and streaks of charcoal staining the edges.

Like a cool breeze, a sense of familiarity swept through him, touching the marrow of his bones. It begged the question.

“Have you always lived here by yourself?” Hiccup asked.

“You could say that.” 

For a moment, you lost yourself in the fragrant pools. When was the last time you served someone tea? It may have been the day before a young man's mortal fate—the same day you couldn’t convince him to stay. Leaving you to join the collection of things he left behind. Your throat tightened around what felt like a ball of hot wax. Searing as it was, you swallowed its entirety. 

Balancing the trembling porcelain, you returned to the next room and took a seat of your own. 

“I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. I’ve…never welcomed visitors. It’s always been safer that way.” With a smile, you offered him a cup. “But between Gothi sending you and your genuine nature, I’d like to help you.”

“Thanks—and you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m the one who decided to come here unannounced. So…” Hiccup trailed off, taking a drink. He stared at the ripples with solemnity. “My father isn’t doing so well. And you know Gothi, she’s the best Seer we have on Berk. She’s done all she can, but it’s not going to be enough. When I asked if there was anything more I could do, she recommended that I seek you out.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” you said, lowering your own cup. “If Gothi wasn’t able to help him, then he must be very sick.”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much.” He worked the tension of his lips between his teeth. Then pitched a sincere look your way, and said, “So you know, I’m not worried about you being a witch. If anything, I find myself pretty lucky to ask for your help. Even if that does mean I have to sell my soul for it.”

“I have some good news for you, then. I won’t be needing it. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t even know what to do with yours,” you said with a laugh. “But most spells and potions require something of personal value. At least, the stronger ones do.”

Setting your tea cup aside, you hopped onto your toes. Approaching one of the bookcases, you trailed a finger against the backs of countless titles. Your search came to an end when you plucked one out; dense with musky pages, a silver lock clasped at the side, and a small wooden door carved into the cover.

Peering over your shoulder, you found your nosy company arched forward in his chair. You cleared your throat, “Don’t think about peeking over here. A witch never reveals her secrets.”

He apologized under his breath, and shifted his chin away. But like a child snuffed out of his curiosity, he wore a pout of disappointment. You smiled in amusement, and brought your attention back to the book.

You knocked against the small door in a melodic tempo. The little door sprang open, revealing a tiny ear inside. You brought your mouth close, whispering the incantation with the smallest voice you could muster. Too loud, and the door would snap shut against your lips.

An unpleasant experience you remembered from childhood.

The lock clicked open, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Page after page, you mumbled and zipped through each recipe. A couple more turns, you tapped against the right one. Breezing through the ingredients, you had all but one. Oh buttercups, you blushed.

“What is it?” Hiccup furrowed his brows at your dawning expression. “Everything all right?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain. I—I don’t have one of the ingredients any longer. But maybe you still do,” you exclaimed, taming the warmth of your cheeks. “Come with me.”

With a tilt of your head, you gestured to the kitchen. Your guest rose from his seat, following your footsteps. With instructions for him not to touch anything, you scrambled to find your proper ingredients; mugwort, newt tail, bog water, and a strand of witch hair. Tossed and muddled by mortar and pestle, you poured the mixed contents into a glass jar.

“Time for the last ingredient,” you said, picking up a kitchen knife, “hold out a finger.”

Although hesitant, he lifted a hand. “Tell me you’re not going to cut it off. I’m already down a leg, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Not at all. That would be more than what I actually need,” you answered, albeit a little too plainly. With your other hand, you touched the stone tucked in your dress pocket. “You only have to be honest when I ask you this question. If you’re not, then we’ll both hear about it.”

He nodded carefully. “Go ahead.”

“Have you ever—Oh, how should I put this?” Calming the storm of embarrassment brewing in your chest, you exhaled the words in one breath. “Have you ever committed the coupling act?”

There was a gulp. Then a twitch of his lips. Followed by a blush that bloomed from nose to ear. “What? No, I—I haven’t. What kind of question is that?”

Without a word, you sliced the tip of his finger. A hiss sizzled from his mouth when you squeezed it open. Aligning the bottle underneath, you caught the blood falling in pitter-patters. Once enough dripped into the brew, a plum of red smoke burst into the air. Both of you coughed and waved your hands around the space. When the pungent cloud faded into wisps, you corked the bubbling potion.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” He wrapped his finger in a handkerchief you provided. He went on to mutter, “Not sure why you couldn’t use your own finger.” By the delivery, the last part was meant to stay in his head. 

Embarrassment washed through your veins, and painted every inch of your skin posy pink. The sight of it colored his own complexion.

“I didn’t mean to say that, honestly,” he apologized after the realization struck him. “It just sort of came out.”

“Absolutely no tact at all,” you chastised, snatching back the handkerchief. “Gods, you’re just as bad as him.”

He blinked with mystification. “Him?”

A slip of the tongue had the back hairs of your neck bristling. Magic pulsed like coils of lightning in your stomach. Crackling up through your chest, wanting to burn deeper holes in your heart. The roof groaned and creaked. Grains of wood dust fell onto your nose, dispelling the awful feeling.

“You have to go. Please, take it and leave. And don’t worry about repaying me.” Before he could argue, you forced the potion into his possession. With a clap of a hand, the wood beneath his feet shifted, motioning him out the front door.

“Wait a second.“ He wedged his prosthetic between the shutting door and frame. “Right bookcase, third shelf, leather back.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“There’s a book that belongs to my family. Ask me how I know.” The question was rhetorical, and in your bafflement, he continued. “My families crest is sealed in its spine. And the only way you could have it is if someone gave it to you. You said you never had visitors. Sorry to say, but I’m not buying it.”

“That book has nothing to do with you or your family,” you glowered, and the stone screeched and howled from your pocket. You clapped your hands against your splitting ears, with your company mimicking your movements. Over the prevailing wails, you cried, “You’re right—I lied and I’m sorry for it! It belonged to your great-grand uncle. And that’s the truth of it.”

The screeching stone fell to whispers. But the thumping of your heart continued to beat in your ears. 

“Wait. My great-grand uncle?” He caught a breath in his throat. “You don’t mean—there’s no possible way you’re talking about—”

“I am.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “My only visitor before you; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II.”

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

This is hilarious! What a gem! 😂

Concept: How To Train Your Dragon but from the pov of Hiccup I and/or Hiccup II following around Hiccup III as ghosts.

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

(Snotface Snotlout from Book 10: "How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel")

What do you guys think about me writing a what-if whump-tragedy fic where Hiccup died instead of Snotlout, leaving Snotlout to have to take up the mantle and become King of the Wilderwest in Hiccup's stead with a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus-sized burden of guilt on the side?

[byoldervine]

How is it that in my fanfic days I could churn out chapter after chapter after chapter without even thinking about it, a trilogy of How To Train Your Dragon fics that are all about 50K words each, a 100-150K ‘Dreaded Fic’ of a fandom I shall not name, multiple Pokémon fics with god knows how many words

And yet I get worn out writing a sentence in my original story

[ardenchambres]

AND RUNAWAY KINGS IS BACK! Though it’s not the one I first posted (and I’ll repost the second ver soon), I think it’s just as good! To be clear, Rytin = Dagur.

‘Hiccup took her hand and yelped again as she pulled him out of the crowd and onto Berkian soil, just to the side of where the docks met the village. They continued on around the mingling Berkians and Berserkers, Rytin making a beeline for the forest.

“Come on, Hiccup!” she called back at him, grinning toothily. “It’s a beautiful day!”

As Rytin whooped gleefully, dragging him along, the fog and clouds seemed to lighten like Frigg herself was smiling. Hiccup couldn’t be sure what for, but he would soak in the sunlight while he could.

Berk rarely did anything but rain, after all.’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Dagur the Deranged

Tags: Runaways Hiccup and Dagur, Dragon Masters Hiccup and Dagur, Dagur and Heather and Hiccup are Siblings, Trans Man Dagur

Runaway Kings - reidi0ace

@miscellaneous-dragon-art :3

[fictionalnormalcy]

Word count: 1,904 Relationships: Hiccup Haddock the Third & Stoick the Vast, Hiccup Haddock the Third & Toothless Additional tags: dark stoick the vast, hiccup raised by valka, magical world au, human toothless, whump, angst Summary: Either way their confrontation would end in death. Never did he expect that the man would withhold the killing order- because he'd found the son he'd lost years ago.

@jayalaw @evilwriter37 @roseraintears

[thewolfwarriors]

Chapter 2 is coming up!

Have a fishlegs until then

I really love this face

[stargazingdustbunny]

The Cafe at the Corner of Worlds

Explanation

The Cafe on the Corner of Worlds is a fanfic idea I have had for a while now, but had not recorded until Tumblr inspired me to actually start writing stuff again. Basically, the Cafe is a coffee shop/tavern that can materialize in any fictional world. It exists in all of its locations simultaneously, and at any point in time. This means that any set of characters can meet here. The workers at the cafe are all OCs, but an official character could get a temporary job there. I created this because I love creating cross-canon ships for fun. I have a lot of ideas for interactions that could occur here, and I welcome suggestions and ideas.

Cafe Rules

The cafe always appears on a corner.

The cafe always looks vaguely the same, but it adjusts itself so as to not shock visitors with anachronisms.

All visitors can understand the language of the others and the language that the signs are written on.

Characters do not immediately realize that they are no longer truly in their world, but they can figure it out.

Characters can only enter and exit into their world, unless brought into a different world by another character.

Characters do not recall any of the strangeness of the cafe when they are not inside it, but they do remember their relationships to those inside.

No violence or spicieness can occur in the cafe.

The cafe does sometimes have a second floor with a few bedrooms available for rent.

The cafe can appear as a tavern if the setting would not be familiar with the concept of a cafe.

Potential Relationship Ideas

SpidermanxHermione (platonic or romantic)

There’s literally no reason for this, I was just bored one day, and was like “they’re both nerds tasked with saving the world, and also I think they’d be cute together.” (I am aware that their canon relationships probably make more sense).

Lloyd FronteraxAnnabeth Chase (platonic)

I can just imagine them nerding out over architecture ideas together <3. (Javier and Percy are in the back swapping battle stories and strategies for different monsters).

SokkaxLeoxCamicaze (platonic)

It’s a good thing that the cafe is magically protected because otherwise it would burn down in half an hour. They set up the most insane competitions you can imagine, and be extremely competitive but also best friends. (If they all go into one of their worlds together, I fear what would happen).

[quiet-art-kid]

Happy spooky season here's a furious fic