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nightfury-2001 · 5 months

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Sometimes it feels like HTTYD 3 forgot that Meatlug was Fishmeat’s mother.

For one thing, when Toothless forces all the dragons to go with Grimmel and it cuts back to the Berkians, Fishmeat is just panting like a braindead puppy in Fishleg’s pouch completely oblivious to the fact that his MOTHER just left him. Can you imagine how emotional it would’ve been if that scene took a second to focus on Meatlug leaving and Fishmeat crying and reaching out of his pouch to try and stop his mother from leaving?

Also as adorable as his friendship with the Crimeon Goregutter is, it rubs me the wrong way that when Fishmeat is threatened by one of Grimmel’s men during the rescue mission it’s the Crimson Goregutter that saves him and not his own MOTHER (like yeah I get the humor behind that scene, it’s funny seeing it escalate from threatening a helpless baby dragon to being attacked by an absolute giant of a dragon but it still rubs me the wrong way).

Speaking of Meatlug having no emotional connections with anyone in that movie, it’s so heartbreaking that throughout the series Meatlug and Fishlegs had such a close and loving relationship yet once all the dragons leave Betk forever at the end of the third one, she just gestures her head towards Fishlegs to hand her Fishmeat then flies away. No last hug, no tearful goodbye, no devastating parting words, she just asks for her baby and leaves her best friend. Her face wasn’t even sad when she did it. God I hate this movie.

Omg I never really noticed or thought about Fishmeat in that scene but you're right. Fishmeat like a minute after his mother and all the other dragons left him:

Like??? Definitely prefer your idea for that scene!

And yes the way Meatlug acts in the separation scene is fucking awful. How she doesn't look sad, but happy and like she doesn't have a care in the world as Fishlegs takes off her saddle.....how when the dragons start to fly off she just turns towards Fishlegs with her mouth open, emotionless, just waiting for him to drop Fishmeat in so she can leave already.....that isn't Meatlug. She wouldn't do that. This film sucks.

(Also about the Crimson Goregutter saving Fishmeat instead of Meatlug thing- it never really bothered me/doesn't really bother me but I definitely see where you're coming from.)

#nf01 talks #reply #anonymous #httyd 3 salt #httyd salt #httyd 3 criticism #httyd criticism #httyd

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forgottenwaters · 8 months

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i've got what i came here for... no sense in sticking around. i didn't see anything here...

[meanwhile...]

messy... someone... left a mess...

master is busy... must tell fishmeat instead...

...i'll go take care of it.

#tw blood #tw body horror #tw eyes #pokeask blog #pokemon ask blog #golduck #zoroark #hisuian zoroark #vaporeon #kappagolduck #noivaporeon #misc #quest: tools of the trade

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voltstone · 4 months

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just a bear (or some other wild animal) | a WEDNESDAY One-Shot

“I’ve hibernated with some grizzlies. I know the difference.” the story of the time when wednesday slept in a bear cave for a week. she was seven and knew what felt just right.

[1,510] | [Last Edit: 1/5/2023] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy!

Once upon a time,

after a house-on-wheels found its way into a graveyard’s ditch, a weekday Addams decided to venture onwards while her dear family made some renovations with her guillotined-bear at hand. After too many exciting adventures across the States, little Wednesday was searching after a place to rest her head, for a tire found its way onto her pillow. She traversed the gravesite, brimming with lavish stones upon words upon concealed bodies—though she knew they were there.

First, Wednesday prowled towards a grandiose crypt. Down one of its walls was a narrow window, but little Wednesday was small enough to wedge her way. She peered through the dark. This crypt was very beautiful, with skulls in each socket of the walls—candlesticks stuck in their eyes—, tapestries matted by cobwebs, and a coffin whose lid was bent open. The body inside sat erected, and its breath fogged the crypt. Hollow eyes stared down Wednesday, who seemed not at all perturbed. Her guillotined-bear sagged, and heaved a lousy breath.

“Too cold and stoney, for even I would gather frostbite in here,” she said. “Goodnight, Mister Skeleton. I’ve not an interest in here. Unfortunately.”

Mister Skeleton howled, though once little Wednesday wedged her way back through, Mister Skeleton laid back in its casket.

Second, Wednesday strolled her way towards the nearest church. This church was as haunting as the crypt, except its wood felt as lively coals, and its windows warbled as if to smoke. Wednesday then realized that, standing a foot-in the doorway, it was she who felt as lively coals, and warbling as if to smoke. Her dress smoldered to the rhythm of flames as she glared down the saintly statues around.

“Too warm and holy, for I would make this place a spot of Hell,” she said. There was a moment of consideration, because that would be a rather enlightening venture on its own, though unholy Wednesday needed rest, and perhaps food, neither of which this damned place would give her. Furthermore, her guillotined-bear was singed upon its edges! She flipped off the statues and went on her way, into the woodland.

Amongst the trees, tired Wednesday passed many a dark woods, until she came upon the wide mouth of a bear den. She crept inside on her hands and knees to find that this place was littered by leaves and shrubs, bone and fur. Little Wednesday Addams smiled grandly.

“Warm and grotesque! This place is just right, Mary Antoinette!” she said to the cotton-frothing bear. The bear might’ve smiled if it had a head.

Wednesday looked around, however, and realized the den’s family was off to the night, perhaps by the river her own family’s house-on-wheels had passed by. Nevertheless, Wednesday crawled down the den’s tunnel, then found the basin to it all. Within the basin, three meals laid.

The first, a box of pizza from a neighborhood, with cardboard which sagged the more Wednesday prodded. She plucked the lid and peered inside.

“Too soggy. And uninteresting,” she horked.

The second, an array of fishmeat within a pile; she prodded that too.

“Too dead,” she sighed, in dismay.

The third, a wriggling rabbit with a bitten-off leg, and a terrible, horrifying noise spawning from its panicked mouth. Wednesday’s smile was almost fanged.

“Still alive and subdued! This feast is just right, Mary Antoinette!” Wednesday said, with the unholiness that sparked fire in everything Christian. She devoured the animal from leg to snout, aside from the fur she used as napkins, and the bones which pricked the gunk from between her teeth—gunk, which, she too ate. Despite the fur, she ended her feast with a mouth and cheeks of blood. Little predator Wednesday was quite full, and she felt her lull for sleep drift her eyes across the basin. Alike the meals, beds were scattered.

A nest of furs and death and everything grime caught her eyes first. Wednesday fluffed what cushion it had.

“Too comfortable. I’d have an awful time with dreams,” she said.

A patch of dirt and stone and nothing else caught her eyes second. Wednesday patted the space.

“Too uninteresting again. I might as well have slept in that crypt after all,” she said, through a sigh.

A matted dog bed with holes and fleas, perhaps carried from the same neighborhood as that soggy meal, caught her eyes third. There was no need to test the thing—she hopped right in!

“What a detestable place to sleep! This bed is just right, Mary Antoinette!” Wednesday yawned. The guillotined-bear snuggled right with her.

As she began to drift to a place of night terrors, rumblings from the land above followed down the tunnel, until those lumbering strides revealed the den’s family. A small cub first, followed by a medium-bear second, followed by a lumbering, great bear third. The cub shuffled around the den to find its meal gone! Yet the cub followed its meal’s scent all the way to the blood across Wednesday’s mouth. The medium-bear followed, and so too the lumbering, great bear. The latter grunted at the face of their guest, turned to the pile of fish, and promptly decided that the guest was no issue. As the great bear ate, the medium-bear sniffed and sniffed Wednesday’s face, then the guillotined-bear, and decided that she smelled like a bear enough. The bear’s wet nose smeared across her forehead, then a tongue.

What a funny little cub! the medium-bear’s eyes proclaimed.

By the strike of an hour, a distant lightning bolt to proclaim a storm, the medium-bear—a dear Mother Bear—pawed her cub and the funny little Wednesday cub close, then lumbering Father Bear embraced his family all around. They snoozed, and they snoozed, and they snoozed some more, quite comfortable despite everything. Wednesday inhaled the gore caught to their furs and felt just right.

For six nights and seven days, she rested. Through her slumber, little Wednesday would occasionally hear wide-eyed Uncle Fester’s howling, but Mother Bear’s wet nose would remind her of the moldy drain pipe far back home, so she would slumbered on. When there was no moon to howl for, same-eyed Brother Pugsley would launch his brigade of explosives—from fire crackers to dynamite—in the arms of Uncle Fester, and would shake the ground to rouse Wednesday from her drowse; but the shaken ground felt just right, too alike the rumblings of their house-on-wheels, so Wednesday drowsed on. Her parents, Mother and Father, called to the night after her during her sleep, but their voices reminded her of the lullabies Mother would hum, and the stories Father would tell, so Wednesday remained sleepful. Even Lurch grew worrisome and marched the woodland with arms extended and low groans; his timbre and his boots snaked into Wednesday’s nightmares where she dreamt of the most ghastliest monsters.

Without any other options, the family held a seance in the graveyard. Mister Skeleton answered the call, though explained how little Wednesday complained about the draft. The statues of the church ignored the unholy family. Then, spirits in the woods answered their prayers to express their mischief, and not at all explain where their dear, woeful daughter had went for the whole debacle was far too entertaining; however, upon knowing the family’s grief, the spirits in the woods told the family that Wednesday was quite alright, and was merely sleeping of the most ghastliest of monsters.

The Addams Family was very much relieved to hear that, so they rested comfortably the last night, in the hopes that Wednesday would describe every last visceral detail of her adventures.

It wasn’t until their scurrying hand, in the following dusk, trailed the loose cotton to her guillotined-bear, discovered the den’s mouth, then snapped twice did Wednesday wake, for two snaps always meant come home.

She picked up her head from Mother Bear’s comfortable arms, the cub’s small paws, and Father’s Bear big embrace. Thing danced and pranced at the mouth of the den, then snapped, then tapped, a slew of morse.

G-O-O-D-S-L-E-E-P? C-O-M-E! C-O-M-E!

Carefully, Wednesday slipped away from her bear family to whisper, “Thank-you, Mother, Father and Cub-bears. That was delightfully horrible.”

She trudged from the den, felt Thing spring to her shoulder, before they trotted their way back to the renovated, fixed-up house-on-wheels at the graveyard. Her family sang and danced upon her return.

Thing tattled every little thing that Wednesday had told him along the way, to the family’s growing excitement.

“Next time you take an excursion during our family roadtrip,” Father said with a wormy smile, “invite Pugsley, or Thing, or Lurch, or your Mother and I!”

“If I did that, Father, who would have fixed the car?” flea-riddled Wednesday asked, as frank as ever.

The family paused, then, and considered her words.

“That is true,” they supposed, still in the throes of disappointment to know that they couldn’t slumber with bears like Wednesday had. Nevertheless, their faces brightened, and they ushered little Wednesday to a bath, offered to phone a veterinarian, then drove down their merry way.

The End.

#volt's library #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday show #the addams family #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #fairy tale parody #wednesday addams #morticia addams #gomez addams #pugsley addams #lurch addams #thing addams #the addams family roadtrip #reposted from last account #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account

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10blue10 · 1 year

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Hiccup and Hel

Hiccup Haddock III was fifty nine years old, and he had just died in his sleep.

Not that he was aware of that, of course. He thought he was having a strange nightmare. Hiccup leaned heavily on a cane. As he’d aged, his stupid leg had acted up more and more, until he was limping about everywhere. His hair and beard had more grey in them than auburn. His hands and face were wrinkled.

He was standing in a dark cavern of some kind, surrounded by bones. Dragon bones. They were illuminated by the sickly green glow of fungi, growing on huge stone stalagmites and on the bones themselves. It was freezing cold. Hiccup shivered. He wished he was wearing his chieftain’s cloak. At least it was warm. “H-hello?” he called out hoarsely. Cleared his throat. “Hello?”

HICCUP HADDOCK, a voice said behind him. He jumped and turned around. Standing there was a tall figure in flowing black robes. Half of their face looked like a beautiful, if extremely pale, woman. The other half was skeletal, literally, with a scarlet dot in the centre of the socket. I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.

A deep terror gripped him and rooted him to the ground. “Y-you have?”

YES. YOU HAVE MUCH TO ANSWER FOR. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

Mouth dry with fear, Hiccup could only nod. He could feel himself trembling.

DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?

“Um…. Helheim?”

NO. YOU ARE NOT YET IN MY REALM. YOU ARE IN THE HIDDEN WORLD.

“What? N-no, that… that can’t be. The Hidden World is… it’s beautiful, it”-

YOU DARE DOUBT ME?

“No! No, I just… I don’t understand.”

THE DRAGONS OF THE HIDDEN WORLD ALWAYS THROW THEIR DEAD INTO THESE PITS. INTO THE DARKNESS. OUT OF SIGHT. OUT OF MIND.

Hiccup remembered now. Flying with Astrid on Stormfly, over a deep chasm, with bejewelled glowing columns stretching down into the darkness… “But, but then why am I here? Why… are you showing this to me? If you don’t mind.”

ALL OF THESE DRAGONS ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU.

That made no sense. He’d never… well, there was the Red Death, but he’d never killed a dragon apart from that. “What… what do you mean?”

SURELY YOU KNOW.

“I…I’m sorry. I don’t.”

THEN YOU ARE A FOOL.

He felt a bit insulted, but didn’t dare respond.

FORTY YEARS AGO, YOU BANISHED YOUR TRIBES DRAGONS HERE.

“I did that to keep them safe.”

SAFE FROM WHAT?

“Well, from - from humans. From dragon hunters. We didn’t deserve them, we… the world wasn’t ready to live in peace with dragons,” he tried to explain.

HOW DO YOU KNOW?

“Because they kept attacking us! Hunters were just gonna keep coming, my dragon - my best friend was nearly killed, I kept putting him in danger.”

I AM AWARE. YOU HAD THE BEST OF INTENTIONS. She sounded sarcastic.

“… Then why did you say I killed all these dragons?”

I DID NOT SAY THAT YOU HAD KILLED THEM. I SAID THEY WERE DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU. THEY WERE NOT KILLED BY HUMAN HUNTERS. THEY WERE ALL KILLED BY OTHER DRAGONS, BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID.

Hiccup stared at her. Not because he didn’t understand… he didn’t want to.

Hel waved a skeletal hand; around them, the remains were suddenly covered in flesh and scaly skin. They were all very much still dead. It was just that now he could recognise them. Hiccup found himself staring at a familiar Gronckle. Or rather what was left of it; most of the body had been devoured.

“Is that… Meatlug?!”

SHE DIED TRYING TO DEFEND HER OFFSPRING FROM A STARVING NADDER. THERE WAS NOT ENOUGH FOOD. FISHLEGS INGERMAN WAITED FOR HER AND FISHMEAT TO COME BACK AND SEE HIM ONE MORE TIME. HE DIED OF A BROKEN HEART, BELIEVING THAT HIS DRAGON HAD FORGOTTEN HIM.

Despite his horror, he couldn’t look away. Instead his gaze was drawn to the next corpse. A Zippleback, with one skull crushed and the other missing.

THEY WERE KILLED WHEN MANY DRAGONS FOUGHT FOR SPACE IN THE HIDDEN WORLD UP THERE. IT WAS TOO OVERCROWDED. RUFFNUT AND TUFFNUT STOPPED TALKING TO EACH OTHER BECAUSE ONE BELIEVES THEIR DRAGON MAY YET VISIT THEM, AND THE OTHER DOES NOT.

Hiccup felt sick. As if compelled - and perhaps he was - he turned and looked at the next corpse. A Monstrous Nightmare, with broken horns and no eyes.

HE DIED CRUSHED UNDER FALLING DEBRIS DURING A CAVE IN CAUSED BY A ROGUE WHISPERING DEATH. HE DIED TRYING TO LEAVE THE HIDDEN WORLD. SNOTLOUT DIED HATING HIS DRAGON FOR ABANDONING HIM. HE DIED HATING YOU EVEN MORE FOR MAKING HOOKFANG ABANDON HIM.

Bile rose in his throat, and he struggled to hold it down. He looked at the fourth corpse. A blue and yellow Deadly Nadder, encased in Death Song amber.

SHE WAS KILLED BY A DEATH SONG NOT LONG AFTER FLYING FREE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS. THE DRAGONS THAT EAT THEIR OWN KIND ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO HAVE FLOURISHED HERE. ASTRID WILL DIE THINKING HER DRAGON IS SAFE AND HAPPY IN THE HIDDEN WORLD.

Hiccup was facing her again. He knew what she would show him next. He didn’t want to see it. Hel stepped aside. Behind her lay a Night Fury, glassy green eyes staring into nothingness. A rusted and rotten and bloodied tail-fin lay nearby. The corpse had been savaged, wings broken and tail torn off.

It was too much. He retched, stomach clenching painfully. “No… please, no…”

HIS PROSTHETIC FELL APART WHEN HE TRIED TO BREAK UP YET ANOTHER FIGHT. HE BEGGED HIS MATE TO GO AND FIND YOU. SHE WAS SHOT DOWN AND KILLED BY HUNTERS STILL SCOURING THE ARCHIPELAGO. HE WAITED FOR HER TO RETURN WITH YOU. HE WAITED FOR YOU TO COME HELP HIM.

“I’m sorry… Toothless, Stormfly, all of you! I’m so sorry!” Tears ran down his cheeks. “I never… I never meant for any of this to happen! Please, I’m sorry!”

IT DID HAPPEN.

He looked at her desperately. “Please, I’m begging you. Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything, I - I can ask Zephyr to help, she can find a way to… to…”

YOU CANNOT ASK HER. YOU WILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN.

“… Why?”

YOU KNOW WHY.

Hiccup did know, deep down. The cane slipped from his grasp. He fell to his knees, and crawled through the muck to Toothless’ corpse. He reached out a trembling hand, gently brushed his best friends’ eyes closed. “…. What now?”

THE DARKEST DEPTHS OF HELHEIM ARE RESERVED FOR TRAITORS. YOU MADE THE GREATEST BETRAYAL OF ALL. YOU BETRAYED YOURSELF.

“… And my people. And all of our dragons,” he whispered numbly.

YES. YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO TRAITORS IN HELHEIM.

He did know. Just as he knew, without a shadow of doubt, he deserved it.

“Please,” he begged. “Tell me something… good. Please. Just one thing.”

…. GRIMMEL THE GRISLY NEVER KILLED ALL THE NIGHT FURIES.

“He - he didn’t?”

OF COURSE NOT. HE WAS A DELUDED LIAR. IF YOU HAD LET THE DRAGONS STAY, AND SEARCHED BEYOND THE HIDDEN WORLD, YOU WOULD HAVE FOUND A VAST LAND FILLED WITH HUNDREDS OF NIGHT FURIES.

A spike of regret pierced his heart, along with fear, guilt, grief, and self-hate. All this time… Hiccup knelt there, surrounded by corpses, and sobbed. He felt himself be grasped by crushing claws, and whimpered. He looked into the eyes of Nidhogg, who was in the form of a Red Death; he looked at the gaping maw full of jagged fangs that would chew on his body for eternity… and screamed.

#thw salt #idk i was bored #thw hiccup

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