#sticks and stones may break my bones but...

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Hallowtober 2024 Day 15

Sticks And Stones May Break Bones

Summary: Set during RttE. The episode 'Chain of Command.' Snotlout brings Hiccup home to Dragon's Edge, but he has been changed beyond repair. Even if Hiccup himself doesn't realize it yet.

Warnings: Aftermath of Torture, Branding, Non-con body modification, implied non-con drug use

Rating: Mature

Dead Dove: No

Words: 2 259

Prompts: Bandages

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Snotlout, Astrid, Ruffnut, Fishlegs, Tuffnut, dagur

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Yeah... This was a fun one. Unfortunately for Hiccup.

Enjoy!

[soulsam]

now it makes sense why I got an anon hate message last night

[flufallo]

Ok, so people are saying 'how the hell are such beautifulness related to such a rat?' refering to the millers, but I don't, and I'm going to tell you my amazing headcannons.

Ok, look at this (warning: your eyes might burn watch out)

Ew.

Anyways, now them:

Much better. Anyways, he only similarity is Brenda's hair colour- it's not even the same shade fgs (mabye the eyes too but we ignore that)

Ok, that proved nothing I'm sorry.

But, my crazy headcannon is that Christine cheated on him with someone who's actually pretty hot (suprise, suprise, nobody blames her) and get pregnant with the twins. W!LL!am Dosent find out until day and Brenda are 8, so starts shouting at her. Christine encourages Brenda to go to her friend's house, and David the arcade (where he met exer :3) and it's not till there 11 that they get that long deserved (for Christine) divorce. Then Linda falls into the ugly ass rats trap and they get married.

There is my crazy thing on why David and Brenda look so hot and there 'father' looks like he was dropped into a skip the second he was born because he was so horrible to look at.

Thanks for listening if you did :)

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

I feel like people forget how vicious Rain is. Boy kissed Payu and then moved to bite his lip so hard that he BLED.

And Payu LET HIM

[phoenix-flamed]

Before I dive into my inbox until I'm finally able to sleep, since I can't trim posts on mobile(as far as I know), have another headcanon that I've been mulling over.

In my From The Fire verse, you'd think that being hardy enough to take on more physically strenuous workloads, in addition to being highly intelligent and quick to learn and adapt, would have made "Miles" a hot commodity.

This wasn't the case, not by a long shot. In that verse, he was auctioned off and bought, sold again, rinse and repeat so many times that he'd stopped bothering to count. It was his defiant personality that kept seeing him change hands over the decade or so that he was enslaved. He was quick to defend the other Bearers from their abuse, and would often take over their tasks for them so that they didn't overexert themselves or use too much magick. Of course, this led to him receiving more punishments and imprisonments, but just as predictably, no matter what was done to him, he would not break nor submit.

It wasn't the things that were done to him that eventually led him to stand down. Rather, when it became apparent that Miles wouldn't give in no matter how much pain was inflicted on him, his weakness was finally figured out and exploited. If hurting him wouldn't bring him to heel, then hurting the others due to his defiance would -- and did, at that.

And so the former Archduke came to understand that in his new position of powerlessness, the best way to protect those around him was to obey without protest or issue.

It still didn't stop him from getting sold again and again, though.

[jellybeanium124]

"sHouLd kiNk bE aT pRidE??" did Rihanna teach you nothing??? it should be at #2 in the billboard hot 100

[reflections-of-mobius]

Type: Plot Progression Universe: Enlightened Darkness Location: The Rolling Sands (Shamar Desert)

He knew this feeling....sand drifted across the barren landscape, the sun beating down its impossible heat upon an unwilling, scorched earth. The clear blue sky was nearly mocking in its appearance- almost as if it were looking at any wandering, wayward souls with a smirk, whispering 'weakling'.

There were cities in this barren place, of course- some dared to be built out in the open, a testament to sentient life and the stubbornness of all of Mobius- while some were built in the darkness, in the mountainous rocks that cut up from the crust. But between these monuments of survival- of life- two sets of footprints came to a standstill.

Silence brewed in that moment- so loud that it seemed even the sands flowing on the wind quieted themselves.

"....Dark...?" His voice nearly echoed, a single word- not the full name- spoken...and yet he could swear he felt the grains beneath his sandals tremble.

"...and here I was, thinking you wouldn't recognize me, Mephiles..." He flinched. Tenebrosity's tail flicked, the pink tuft at the end somehow cutting a gash in the sand. Light splashed into Mephiles' eye, causing him to grunt and pull back...just before Ten moved a foot over the freshly-formed glass. "...I go by Tenebrosity these days, though...please, call me Ten."

Mephiles exhaled, his eyes slowly sliding from Tenebrosity's new appearance to her eyes. She had taken on distinctly lizard-esque qualities- with dark, nearly black, purple scales that faded into a distinct light blue at her hands and feet. She still sported those six arms she seemed to like so much in her true form, and her eyes...they faintly glowed with a hidden light. That ring on her tail...was it...?

He shook his head.

"...and I, Murk..." Tenebrosity couldn't help but chuckle.

"Who would ever think..." The most powerful beings on all of Mobius...but they had both selected this path- as the two seemed to have a habit of doing, whether by choice or not.

She shifted a step closer- keeping a forever-eye on the pseudo-hedgehog. Murk looked vaguely like his true self, but...the mouth was pretty new- as were the pants and sandals...another small chuckle.

"What are you doing here, D----....Tenebrosity?" Well...that was a question she supposed made sense. Murk watched as his acquaintence's expression darkened- her tail going still, the light in her horns flickering.

"...making amends, though meeting you...was unexpected. Have you decided to attempt to destroy this world of mine?" She could feel it, the growing unease- flickering in the air, echoing out as fear echoed in the depths of Murk's heart. What did he have to fear? Surely he wasn't--- "...wait...you...?"

"𐌍𐌄ᕓ𐌄𐌓 𐌀Ᏽ𐌀𐌉𐌍…" Her head tilted. Something in the atmosphere shifted- a weight that had begun to press on the pseudo-hog instantly lifting. Tenebrosity donned a faint smile, lips curving upwards.

"...I'm glad to hear it." And she was sure that Chip would be elated- if he could see this conversation. "But what changed?" Murk's foot shuffled. His eyes fell away from the goddess. The deity let out a breath he didn't need to copy. Once his eyes returned to Tenebrosity- she could see the true color- a glittering, demonic green- bathed in the blood of a million lives, the screaming of countless souls stitched into black markings at the edges...

"That is for me to know, Tenebrosity." There was something off in those hues. The malice that Ten had seen in so many nightmares- that glint that sought the edge of a blade, that craved a world bathed in hellfire--- had it always been so full of pain? And in a blink, the eyes of his disguise were back in place.

"I wasn't going to press, don't worry~. That's for you to know." But- she would take his change with a grain of salt. His journey was very...very....long- and she had seen far too many nightmares over millennia to believe him outright. Still- the benefit of the doubt never hurt. "For now...I think we should both be on our own ways....though I do hope to run into you again, Murk."

Maybe he would say well-behaved-- but she didn't have high hopes. Though it was a little surprising to see the pseudo-hog bow his head.

"...if you wish to...please, come find me in Sanden." He knew so little about Dark Gaia- but what he did know, from seeing her very creation, to the present...he couldn't help but hope to build a bridge where once there'd been none. Please.... "...I'd like you to meet my friends." I promise-

I've changed.

"I'd love to meet them. But- I think I'll wander a little longer before I do." She wondered if the city would still be standing by the time she came by. It was highly unlikely. "Until then, Murk."

"...Tenebrosity..." Murk watched as the other 'melted' into the sand- the Chaos Energy she emitted telling of her location as she drifted across the shadows- before suddenly darting away. His own eyes flickered around.

Everything would go well....

Hopefully.

He turned, a shudder traveling down his spine for a moment as he reinforced his disguise. The crunch of sand underfoot was all that could be heard as the disguised deity began trekking back along his own path. New footsteps...replacing those he had made before.

[]

"OhmyChaos, ohmyChaos...!" The disciple whimpered. They'd had a hand over their mouth, red eyes focused on the exchange below. Only once both parties were gone, did they dare to relax even the slightest bit.

Dark Gaia.

Mephiles the Dark.

They were lucky they weren't spotted- or worse, killed. The devils who sought the destruction of Mobius--- they'd been so close--! The frailty of their mortal shell was crashing down on them, their heart beating a few million miles per hour in their chest. They were just grateful they hadn't wet themself, to top off their immense panic.

Ears flicked rapidly- before they suddenly leapt from the sands. Dark Gaia and Mephiles the Dark, speaking? There was no way in Hell that it had been a casual conversation. They had to be plotting something- something horrific,- the end of Mobius? It had to be--- why else would those two interact????

They were just a lowly disciple-- they needed someone who knew what they were talking about- someone who could solve this- break the apparent bonds between the two devils of Mobius, the destroyers.

"Mother Gile--- needa--- Mother Gile--!" They bolted.

[maryvedvik]

cringe.

based on this meme: https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/is-that-your-fucking-fursona-thats-cringe

[weirdcat1213]

Welp, sleep didn't fix anything

I'm still ✨️heartbroken✨️ about vash

[midnightthvnder]

👄do they prefer oral or penetrative sex more? // for miilak <3

;; honestly that is a toughie because miilak just enjoys sex so much in all its forms. he loves to watch his partners giving other people oral sex but i suppose if he had to choose for himself he loves giving penetrative sex more. he likes to push his partners to their absolute limits and at his size it is soooo easy for him to do that.

[wendeiwisp]

@stovthearted replied: laxus vc: you stink of alcohol you ugly twink

" H-hey! Just because I smell like alcohol doesn't mean I'm stinky. I will also choose to ignore that last comment in favor of knowing I'm a treasure. "

[reallyrandomtj]

Me: Having the BRIEF temptation to make a side blog for Scaramouche and the Wanderer as a DUAL MUSE.

Also me: realizes that its literally just THIS damn video

PLEASE I already have enough trouble dealing with people like Dehya, Lisa, Childe, Kaeya and Ayato waking up whenever they damn want--

My portrayal of Scara and Wanderer is legit just THIS video tbh

[b0mblover]

Greed makes me sick. 

By: J

Woo fucking hoo, gotta love projection! (this was 100% self indulgent, idk how well it actually works with jiro but! Oh fucking well! At least im getting smth done ig) 

Cw; Selfharm, Suicide Ideation, Jiro generally being unhealthy, awful writing

Once again; sorry for your eyes, goodluck

Jiro laid in his bed, glancing at the clock on his phone every so often, around 21:34. Mindlessly scrolling through some of his friends' accounts, he never wanted to admit it, but he does in a way enjoy ‘stalking’ his friends, “friends” being mostly of people he's never met or talked to a day in his life, but that's never really mattered to him. 

Usually it's just to catch up on everything, ‘oh they finally got married’ etc. boring stuff, but why the hell not. 

But other times like today, it made him want to throw up. He was happy for them, sure, but there was a disgusting jealousy spreading throughout his chest, traveling down his esophagus, down to his stomach, and setting there. He’s felt it before, the first few times it happened, he thought he literally had to throw up, resulting in him essentially purging to get the feeling out; it didn't ever work. He gave up on trying, it usually went away on its own, just how long would it take was the question. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. It was all a possibility. The longer he felt it, the worse it became. He’d liked to say that it started off slowly, but it never did. Usually the first thing he jumped to was ‘I'll never be like them, no matter how hard I try, so what's the point in living?’ He wished he could say it was irrational, but it just wasn't. He knew due to one reason or another, he couldn't be like them, no matter how hard he tried, no matter for how long he never gave up. He would always fail. He wished he could also say that he had no desires, that would be a lie too. Seeing people do what you've wanted to do for years of your life, that you never came close to doing, so easily, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It. Hurt. and he wished he could say it didn't. He wished something so very mundane didn't hurt. He hated jealousy, he hated greed, perhaps that's why it hurt so much more. Because he was a hypocrite. It's not like he wished that they weren't able to do that, he just wanted to be able to do it too.  

Jealousy, is an odd word. People always assume that if you are jealous- that you wish ill on whoever you’re jealous of. But that couldn't be further from what he felt. Sometimes, it was tiring to constantly work and work for something others have so easily, that you'll never get. Why does life deal such shitty hands to people who care? Or is it the other way? Shitty hands in life make you care? Either way, it still made him sick.  

Somedays, he got off easy, he knew it's not their fault, sometimes motivated by a ‘you'll get there someday, you just have to keep trying’. Days like this though, that wasn't the case. Trying is pointless, not that he just feels like it, but it is. No amount of trying or wishing will ever work. Shitty hand remember? So if he couldn't do what he wanted, what was the point in living? Maybe he was crazy, fucking insane even, no one talks about this sort of thing, there's probably a reason, right?  

He sat up on his mattress, took a look at his phone, then tossed it across the room. He would’ve thrown it, but he didn't see a point in breaking the phone or wall if he was angry. He wasn't even angry either, just like there was a hole in his chest where his heart should be, and that hole was filled with bile.  

He looked down and stared at his hands, disgusting. Failure. He was a failure. He had good grades, sure, but it really didn't mean anything. Grades are just numbers, and numbers that didn't matter to him. If When he gets older, he's probably not going to be sitting on his deathbed thinking about how he got a 100% on a math quiz. But this?  

He stood up and walked over to his ‘desk’, clean for 4 months at the simple request of a friend. It's not like she’d know or find out if he did it. Well, unless he couldn't keep his mouth shut as usual. Even if she did find out, would she care? Would she even remember what was said? Ha. Maybe she’d tell him how pathetic he was, unable to go past a small styro, he is really pathetic, so it’d be fitting.  

Even if she somehow did ‘care’ as much as she said, wouldn't it be tiresome? That was one of the main reasons he stopped in the first place, taking care of people, even if you love them can be tiresome. So she was bound to get tired and bored of it. She’d probably grow to not care, part of him wanted that.  

He admittedly fantasizes thinks about what would've happened if he hadn't stopped, more than he should. 

Maybe she’d grow annoyed of his break/melt downs, maybe she'd make fun of him instead, he couldn't really blame her either way. Part of him wanted her to grow bored of him, but the other selfish part, hated the idea. Even now, he considered reaching out “You don't have to suffer alone, I’m always here, you’ll never annoy me.” but..  

He appreciated it, but it probably wasn't meant for something like this. What was the point? It wasn't like he was gonna kill himself, no matter how badly he wanted to. Sure, it wasn't a necessarily ‘healthy’ coping mechanism, but. It's not like he could do much damage anyways right? This was just like scratching himself when he was pissed off, not healthy, but what could anyone do? It didn't really hurt, so what would be the point in taking it away?  

Without caring enough to think it through, he picked up the blade, and sliced through the mid of his forearm. It stung. More than usual, but who even cares. He spun his chair around, then sat down. He brought the blade to his arm again- he really was pathetic, wasn't he? Slice- even if someone for some reason cared- slice- it's not like they should, he was pathetic and needy- slice- maybe some people in this world are supposed to die? Or suffer at least- slice- but, he didn't really want anyone else to suffer. If he met someone just as himself, would he hate them too? Or would he take pity? Slice- He smiled. His arm felt weak. Hand shaky. No one was coming to save him. No one knew of what he’d done. No matter what, he’s always alone. He deserved it.  

He stared at his arm for a few minutes, the deepest he’s ever cut, after not even 5 minutes, it looks pathetic again. God he's stupid. What if she somehow does find out? She wouldn't outwardly say how pathetic he is, she wasn't that type of person. She’d probably show some sort of concern. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck FUCK. She’ll probably show some sort of care, attention. He didn't want that. Great. Now it looks like he did it all just for attention! Fucking wonderful.  

He glanced at his phone that had been lazily thrown on the floor, part wishing someone messaged, anyone, but dreading having to respond. No matter how much he loved them, responding right after this thing, he always seemed off, too off. 

He took a breath, trying to collect what little of himself was left. He should get something to drink. Yeah, that’ll probably make him feel at least a bit more level-headed.  

But there again, he is a waste of space, failure, etc. he’s heard most of the names by now mostly from himself but that didn't matter, does he really deserve something as simple as drinking? Even basic things do cost money, even if just a few cents. Why waste it on himself? But his throat is so dry still,,  

He walked out of his bedroom, hitting his face on the door, forgetting it was very muchly locked, precaution. He wanted to lash out, take every bit of anger out on it but then…. Nothing. Numbness. He didn't even have a good reason to feel angry. It was his fault anyways. He took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and walked out.  

Walking to the kitchen, slower than usual, he started to wonder again with how he was going to hide his awful wonderful misdeed. Makeup worked.. Well honestly for him it worked awfully. Nothing ever seemed to match in all lighting, plus that was only really an option for scars, tactile cuts didn't really improve much when paired with a powder or creme (?? sorry idk), plus it could run the risk of infection. Right? He's never seen anything warning against it so maybe not? But putting something that has chemicals like that into a cut, it didn't seem correct. Considering what minuscule things could cause infection. Not that he'd mind getting infected and slowly, painfully dying. He just didn't like the look generally.  

What could he do then? Wear a jacket like normal, sure, but she always finds out somehow. Gods know how, not him, but somehow. He could bandage it sure, but that ran the risk of even more questions, it wasn't exactly news that he didn't care about proper ‘aftercare’ like that. Sure, not properly covering it, cleaning the blade etc. could cause infection, but.. Well. He didn't have any excuses, he was just biased in some ungodly way that he never noticed right until that very moment! (Large cough. H e l p.) 

Grabbing a random cup, he decided to just tough it out like usual. Try to not show his arm in any setting but not be weird about it, try to act normaler than usual, sure it’ll suck, but it's between that and in his mind, ‘looking like an attention seeker’. He poured out what wasn't even 1/4th of a cup of water into the cup. His throat was just dry, it's not like he'd die from dehydration any time soon. Sure, he's human, doesn't that mean he just needs the absolute minimal amount of care? Hell, this couldn't even be considered minimal! He has a roof over his head, water, food, there's so much more he could go without, gods he's selfish huh? He sat down his empty glass beside the sink, very quietly laughing under his breath, pathetic, wasn’t it? He’s so selfish, he has it well, yet he acts like he has nothing! What more could he ask for in life? Stability? What a joke. He should really be more grateful. 

He stared at the glass glass beside him, staring into his distorted reflection. Well, at least there was always a way to fix it all. In the back of his mind, he was always running though, listing off methods, quickest, easiest, cheapest, messiest, etc. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never figured out the ‘perfect suicide’ in his own eyes. 

Though, recently, a method stuck his eye. Nitrogen gas. He’d heard it takes one out quickly, but makes them struggle and suffer beforehand. Perfect for himself. No time to back out because of how quickly it takes you, pain before death, he’d never wanted a peaceful one. It was near perfect. But one of the main issues was managing to get any. Or get around any in general. (little did Jiro know; he was only a few letters off from his actual suicide; that being Nitroglycerin!)  

But, he doubted it was realistic, for reasons already stated, so he was stuck with whatever other incredibly fucked method he inevitably decides on. It's not like he probably will anytime soon either, no matter how much he wants to. He walked back to his room, flopping down as soon as he was close enough for at least his face to hit the mattress. Thud totally comfortable.  

He stood up once again, actually closing his door this time. Then sitting on the bed properly, right, shit, his phone. No, no one probably texted, they're all busy. What can only be described as a mantra he mentally spoke, trying his best to not get his hopes up and what left of his heart shattered, even if he was always deep-down hoping, begging for any sort of message.  

He walked around to the far wall, and picked up his phone, quickly turning it around, anticipation and tension always left more room for disappointment. He seen the messaging app icon and- no one. A stupid update reminder. He’d rather’ve seen absolutely nothing than that. But whatever, they're busy, she's busy. He reminded himself, trying to subside the constant idea that they all fucking loath him for everything that he's ever done. But it's probably true though right? Of course it is. They all hate him. No matter how close, they all do. He’ll never change, will he? Why even bother at this point, he loved talking to them all sure, but why do they bother to talk to him? Pity? Perhaps. A disgusting feeling crept back up into his stomach and esophagus, it unknowingly had disappeared some minutes ago. Not like it mattered now. He tossed his phone to the side of his bed, on the ground, not bothering to charge it. It's not like anyone will message anyways. He's an idiot, everytime, everyday, why does he still feel such anticipation anyways? The answer didn't matter. He was tired. He didn't want to sleep, he hadn't gotten anything done, hell he was bored. But he had no energy to do anything. Just because of some stupid post. Sensitive. Weak. Pathetic. Why was he even still here? He's just dead weight to everyone he meets. What is the point. 

He laid there, he didn't know for how long, it didn't matter, he heard a door shut, they're back. He couldn't talk to them or face them like this. No. He’ll fake sleeping, maybe he’ll fall asleep in the process, that'd be nice, or if he never woke up, both seem ideal to him. 

He laid on his stomach, right arm obscuring his face, left in a weak fist. It was a default ‘I swear I'm asleep’ pose, shockingly comfortable too!  

Staring at the back of his eyelids, repeating bright colours and vague shapes started appearing, in a way it always felt a bit soothing, it was always there for him.  

Even when he wasn't there for himself. 

[samstwilightzone]

Some silly doodles! Well, kinda, just made a few quick sketches of the oc x cc kids!

Ichiru and Akinori, my IchiAki twins, they are almost polar opposites meant to refect their parents personalities, but they do share the personality trait of being overly chill with most things

Himari, the spawn of KaraCho- a bit of a trend chaser, witty and passive (-agressive), she is pretty wise for her age. Attribute it to all the stuff she reads about on the Internet.

Satoshi, the ChoroWillo (or Chollo) child, he clearly inherited quite a lot from his dad, including that pointed mouth of his, He has a need for prescription glasses, which he contines wearing into his adulthood. He is alo plagued with the teenage curse of having acne.

I also drew some highschool Aki drawings

[idledreams4]

S&M is my song

[sammichbreadalmighty]

Why is it that when you get high, you’re “stoned” despite the fact that you got high from plants?