#httyd books fanfic

[everydayarsonist]

Okay but how has nobody made a fanfic set in the world of the Httyd books about dragons waking up or being rediscovered in the modern era? Like Hiccups memoirs are out there in-universe, how has nobody written one of these? If they have please show me.

EDIT: I have read “Tumbling Forward, We Spin On.”

[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 🤗

[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.”

[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!

[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

<><><><><><><>

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

[byoldervine]

If you're aroace, do you still write romance? If so, do you do it differently than allos do?

Tbh it’s made me very cautious of writing men and women because no matter what straight allos seem to think they’re flirting and would make a super cute couple. Back in my fic days that was often how I decided to have my characters date; I’d get loads of comments saying they couldn’t wait to see how X ship pans out when in reality it was just two friends having banter. And romance always seemed to be like a requirement in every story; if you don’t include at least a subplot where the main characters get together, what’s the point in creating them? Even if that mindset isn’t true

But just to show how my sexuality did indeed influence my writing - as well as my writing actually influencing my sexuality - I’ll give you guys an example:

I’ve mentioned it before but there was one character called Indigo who I wrote in an atrociously-written HTTYD fic on Wattpad back when I was like thirteen - all the comments were saying she was totally in love with another character, Plasma, and how they couldn’t wait to see her accept these feelings she has for him

Reminder; I had no intention of having them be in a relationship

But I decided to lean into it and explore why people perceived it this way, then used another character to be raising all the points. I did admit that, looking back as an older and more experienced writer, I did once or twice say things that implied more than intended because I didn’t fully understand the innuendo of them back then, but there was even some newer stuff that I just couldn’t figure out

So I tested my theories; I had the characters banter more, being very careful in that first chapter to keep it purely platonic, and people were going crazy about the flirting. So I figured if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em; I leaned into it, explored the idea of Indigo having feelings for Plasma. Let her get conflicted on it, let her vent that she had no idea what this kind of love feels like, just generally used it as an excuse to vent my own feelings on romantic love in general. I identified as bisexual at the time, but was starting to question things, so I just poured it out onto Indigo because it did work for her character and her general attitude to relationships of any form

Half the comments were about how they were worried about the ship and how Indigo had to realise her feelings soon - but the other half was people predicting that Indigo was aroace. I challenged my readers more directly to guess Indigo’s sexuality and asexual or aroace was the biggest guess. And so I leaned into it again and brought Indigo into what’s all but labelled as a QPR with Plasma, just to see how it goes, and in the meantime I was looking into asexuality. I think you can figure out how the latter went

But I guess what I learned from all of this when it comes to writing romance is that, at least for myself, it’s surprisingly easy to get people shipping them; have a guy and a girl banter. I’ll have to test in future if this works for visibly queer couples, but in general my go-to for flirting is just casual banter and so far it’s done the trick with my other old fics. I’m not flirting, I’m just sarcastic and British

What really scares me is writing sibling dynamics and other familial relationships because if I can make things flirty without even trying then how will this be perceived?

[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

[everydayarsonist]

The Prologue chapter of the Rest Stoppers AU is here!

@anhttydbookfan

[libraryledge]

A Normal Teenage Life (A HTTYD Story)

A/N: Thank you to the person who requested a HTTYD story. Here's a one-shot I wrote about Hiccup being nervous to make an important confession. Enjoy!

Hiccup was nervous. Even though he rehearsed the scene many times in his head, he felt in his gut that he was going to stumble over his words and make a fool of himself. He knew that he was doing the right thing because confessing his feelings to another soul would make him feel better. However, he could not ignore the pit forming in his stomach over the thought of doing so. 

Despite Fishlegs assuring him yesterday that these nervous jitters were not uncommon, Hiccup could not erase the anxiety he was experiencing.

 “It's okay Hiccup. These feelings are part of a normal teenage life. There is nothing to be ashamed about,” he said aloud to himself, to erase his nerves.

“Yeah, Hiccup. There's no need to be a fraidy cat,” came a voice from behind him that rattled his already tense nerves. Hiccup turned around to see none other than his annoying cousin, Snotlout, grinning at him mischievously.

“Thanks Snotlout. I really needed your reassurance,” he responded with his signature sarcasm. 

“Anytime my dear cuz,” Snotlout replied with a smirk. 

Hiccup rolled his eyes at his cousin. As soon as Snotlout was out of sight, he took a deep breath and headed towards the heart of the village. He stopped in front of a hut with a decorative ax hanging over the doorway. For what seemed like the one hundredth time that day, Hiccup inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

“Ok, Hiccup. This is it. You can do this,” he whispered to himself.

Mustering all the courage that he possessed, Hiccup opened the door. Inside, he found the person who had been tormenting his thoughts all day, peacefully eating a bowl of yak noodle soup.

 “I have a huge crush on Astrid Hofferson!” Hiccup blurted out, feeling relieved to finally have his emotions out in the open, but simultaneously wanting to crawl into a deep dark hole.

The other viking stared back at him in amusement and replied calmly, “Yes son. I know.”

Hiccup stared back, deadpanned and said, “You knew?”

His father, Stoick the Vast, smiled and replied, “Hiccup, you are quite easy to read.” 

Taking note of the blank stare that his son was emitting in his direction, he added in jest, “You worry a bit too much for my taste.”

Hiccup, realizing that he spent an entire day filled with unnecessary anxiety, collapsed onto a chair next to his father, who continued to enjoy his yak noodle soup in amusement at his son's newfound situation. 

“Oh to be young and experience the trials of a normal teenage life again,” Stoick declared in good humor.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your ideas for future stories. Let me know what you'd like to read next.

[agikay21]

ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ

Welcome!

ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ

Hey, pretty people! I’m Agikay (but you can call me Agi) and thank you for stopping by my blog! The main idea is sharing my opinions, headcanons, fanfics, outbreaks and everything a fucked up nerd does about things I like and people who doesn’t exist/fictional. So, basically, I write.

In this blog, I’ll use two languages:

Brazilian Portuguese 🇧🇷;

American English 🇺🇸. ← mainly English

Let's look at the "nos" and "yes" of the blog (things I’ll write or post about and won’t) :

YES ✓:

-SFW (and its subgenres);

-NSFW (and its subgenres); ← but be conscious!

-Headcanons;

-Requests;

-Canon;

-Oneshots;

-Fanfics;

-Fluff;

-Film genres (ex.: romance, drama, etc.);

-Aged up characters;

-Acid humor; ← but be conscious!

-Swearing; ← but be conscious!

-Addictions; ← but be conscious!

-Sensitive topics; ← but be conscious!

-Angst.

-Series;

-Films;

-Musical Theatre.

NO ✗:

-Sexual assault;

-Pedophilia;

-Bestiality;

-Incest.

I like many things in the cinematographic world and I am always open to discovering new things. But my main subjects are:

Tales of Arcadia (Contos de Arcadia);

Songs I like;

Stardew Valley;

Good Omens (Belas Maldições);

Hetalia;

How to Train Your Dragon (Como Treinar o Seu Dragão);

Bridgerton;

Heathers: The Musical;

Hamilton: An American Musical;

Ride the Cyclone;

Hazbin Hotel;

Helluva Boss;

Howl’s Moving Castle (O Castelo Animado);

Darling in the FRANXX;

Five Nights at Freddy’s;

EPIC: The Musical;

SIX: The Musical;

Disney;

Pixar;

Dreamworks;

Harry Potter Saga;

The Folk of the Air Saga;

Shitpost; ← what can I say? it’s funny (*´－｀*)

35mm: A Musical Exhibition;

BeetleJuice: The Musical, The Musical, The Musical;

Wicked;

Historic Facts; ← the owner of the blog is a humanities girlie, so don’t mind if some random history shit pops up on your screen (ভ_ ভ) ♡

In conclusion:

owner of the blog = cringe fucked up nerd ♡

The list will keep getting bigger with time, I guarantee to you.

So, about requests, they’re currently open!

-𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈: 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃

-𝒫𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒹𝑜𝓈: 𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜

That’s it for now. Don’t forget to send your requests if you like the topics I mentioned.

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𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔!

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

[corvidpaws]

yet another httyd books fic idea- we need content!! I would absolutely write it but i don’t have all the books yet :(

hiccup and his dragons from the end of book twelve gets swapped with hiccup and his dragon from book one. future!hiccup gets dropped there before the dragon training ceremony, but after he’s met toothless.

everyone would freak out because one second it’s a tiny viking kid and the next it’s a twelve year old with a crown, several scars, a slavemark, a black star and FOUR dragons, two of which happen to be seadragonus giganticus maximus’.

past!hiccup: why am i in a castle where’s snotlout where’s my dad what’s happening

camicazi and fishlegs: shit.

[savebatsartedition]

Whumptober 2024 Day 4:

Summary:

Fireworm feels her heart ache, and she doesn’t know why. Prompt pieces used: “You're still alive in my head.”

Notes:

Basically, this is an au/headcanon that Fireworm and Snotlout got along with each other because I love them. Words: 1,120 Content Warnings: Death of a loved one, crying, former war and a lot of other death, also mentioned slavery

(Also under the cut)

The dragon rebellion was over.

Fireworm twisted her tail through the air, trying to remain as snarky and independant as she always had. Her wings shivered as the remaining smoke from the burned out islands shifted her way. Her blood red sides, heaving with heavy breaths as the cheers rose from the peaceful beings of the archipelago, ached as if longing to cheer with them.

“I heard that it was that weird stringy boy who caught that Toothless looser,” a fellow berk born dragon was whispering nearby, “I hear he killed that awful Alvin fellow and forgave the great Furious,”

“He was getting quite a name for himself,” the dragon's friend whispered back as the two of them whizzed past Fireworm, “I heard he even got some of those extra bad Alvin's men-“ he said the world like he was spitting venom, ”-to join his side,“

”I guess I can't say that only good human's a dead one anymore,“ the berk born dragon joked, ”Since that Alvin fellow's a dead one,“

”Oh yes,” the second friend said, his voice fading as the two made it out of earshot, “Dead as a baby bird at the bottom of the ocean,”

Fireworm tucked her nose under her wing, pretending to pick at flees (which of course she didn't have). She'd heard of that Hiccup runt and his escapades. Of course, she'd never liked him very much herself, especially not with that rude Toothless “daydream” with him, but she was growing worried.

As more and more humans began to call for their former dragon slaves (many scoffed and flew the other way, just because this was the end to the dragon rebellion did not mean it was the end to their FREEDOM...), she heard no calls of her name. If she had been “trained” the way most dragons had been on her now destroyed island, maybe she wouldn't feel this way.

As it was she did her best to scoff her fears away. After all, even if the rebellion was over, the only good human was a dead human, right?

But it was then that Fireworm realized that she hadn't seen her master for quite some time, even when she'd been doing her best to keep tabs on him. (She'd convinced herself that it had been so she could wait for revenge, but if that had been the case, why hadn't she taken it any time she'd seen the man alone, sulking so carelessly at the edge of a dock, or wandering so aimlessly through the burning woods.)

Though she'd always bitten and snapped, somehow she still felt herself missing the scratches between her horns, and the gentle massage of the muscles in her wings before a good hunt. She'd always laughed at the dragons who made fun of her for not abandoning when she had originally planned it, for giving up in her fight for freedom before it had even begun.

Of course, they'd always been wrong, and she'd always been right, and there wasn't much many of them could do against her superior claws and fangs.

There was a reason why the best human on the island had chosen her as his hunting dragon. There was a reason why he'd gone against the rules of the tribe to do it, and a reason why no one had ever really dared to challenge him in his right.

Fireworm bared her teeth at the memory, scaring a nearby Gronkle as a thin ribbon of smoke lifted from between her blood stained teeth. She spread wide her wings, feeling the stretch in her bones as she made herself appear even bigger, even more powerful than she already was.

A Monstrous Nightmare had no reason to fake its fear factor, and Fireworm was not going to let her old master become that reason.

She lept from her perch in the ember filled forest and took to the skies as it cracked and crumbled behind her. Her burning scales met the cool air of the night and sizzled like fish on the fire. The sounds her wings made were like the noises of a blanket being thrown repeatedly over a bed. The glow of the lesser dragons and their celebratory flames shot through the air like flaming arrows at a funeral.

She dove down fast, skimming the rough surface of the ocean a little close for comfort, knowing that what lay below it was nothing but death and bones and rotting rebellion fighters. She flapped her wings, and felt them drag in the cold of the ocean for a split second as she did, shocking the salty cold through her body as she lifted them once more.

She shook the water from her ears, but stayed close as the waves shot by like endless mountains just a claw's reach below her.

Snotlout had always said she was a fast dragon.

(For some reason, the praises from her former rebellion rebels just had never felt the same.)

She felt her bright eyes begin to smudge with the unfamiliar sting of tears. She flew faster, flatting her body as much as she could as she blasted between rocks and giant waves and the ghosts of half sunken ships, wedged somewhere between a rock and the claw of some huge dragon.

Her flames boiled in her gut, making the fire holes in her throat itch as the tears began dripping down her face.

They were hot, nearly boiling off her fire red scales the moment they touched them. They didn't hurt, not exactly, but the quiet bursts of flame as she coughed her way through another loop of waves, that seemed to hurt.

She'd heard the word on the breeze about one of those stinking humans dying at the hands of the others. She'd heard the word of the arrow piercing clear through his chest, as if those horrible monsters had seen him as no less than they had ever seen a dragon like her.

She'd hoped maybe it had been that runty mistake, Hiccup, for a while everyone had seemed to think it was. She'd hoped it had been that terrible Alvin himself, maybe then the final battle wouldn't have been quite so much of a threat.

But no, she could never be that lucky.

Because even in the rebellion, even finally free, she was still chained down by her love, her regret, her hopelessness. She was still chained down by her master, now sunk so deep below the waves that even Fireworm would feel the creep of the darkness if she were to follow.

She flew and flew, but she knew that when she landed, she would have nobody to massage the ache out of her wings.