#horse girl hiccup au

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished: You Will Be Okay

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Word Count: 1284]

—————

“Mummy! DADDY!” Octavia’s piercing cries echoed through the palace. Stolas woke groggily at the sound. Although he and Stella no longer shared rooms, much less a bed, they each had a receiver for Via’s room monitor. The demon prince smacked a panel on the device to talk through his wife’s end. “Stella, Via’s calling for us,” he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

A few seconds later, Stella’s voice responded in an annoyed tone. “You get up.” Stella rarely disturbed her rest for their daughter. She reasoned that both she and Stolas had been taken care of by nannies and other servants growing up, so it would be fine for Octavia.

Stolas disagreed: he wanted a daughter, not just an heir. He wanted his child to have a relationship with him, unlike the dismissive hostility he had with Paimon. So he heaved himself to his feet and wrapped a robe around himself for a bit of modesty.

Via called out again, distress coloring her cries. “Mummy! Daddy! Blitzø!” As it turned out, Blitzø had been quicker on the uptake. While Stolas had talked to Stella, the imp had hopped out of his master’s bed to check on Via. Stolas realized Blitzø was missing and already on top of things with a wry smile.

Blitzø, wearing a horse print robe, gently knocked on Octavia’s door as he swung it open. “Via? Puffball? What’s wrong kiddo?” The little nestling pulled back the blanket she was hiding under. Her deep pink eyes were wide open and filled with tears. Jeez Floof, you gave her some good genes. Even crying the kid looked adorable. Blitzø held his arms open for the girl.

She rushed over to him crying the whole way. “Uncle Blitzø!” she sobbed as she launched herself into his arms. Oh fuck, better not let the bitch hear Via say that. He and Stolas would never hear the end of it if Stella heard the girl refer to an imp as family.

But comforting the little owlette was more important. Blitzø lifted her up, settling the girl’s weight on a hip. “Hey, hey, what turned you into a waterfall?”

Via sniffled. “I had a dream! A really bad dream!” Blitzø patted her back gently.

“Nightmare huh? ‘Sokay, you can tell me about it. Let it out kiddo.”

Between hiccuping sobs, Via managed to get out the words. “I was looking all over the palace! I…I couldn’t find Daddy anywhere! You tried to help me Uncle Blitzø, but…but he wasn’t there!”

Blitzø wrapped her in a hug, making soothing sounds as he walked over to the bed. “It’s okay Puffball, I gotcha, you’re okay.” He plopped onto the bed and let her bury her face into his robe. “Your dad’s not far. He’ll always be there for you and I will too.” He rocked her gently to calm her down. Her crying eased and they heard a knock at the door.

Stolas had knocked so he wouldn’t spook them. Sometimes being so quiet was a disadvantage. “See? I told you he’s not far.” Stolas joined them, gently stroking Via’s head and back as he sat down.

“Blitzø’s right my owlette. What’s troubling you?” He yawned hugely. Via clambered into his lap. “Daddy! I had a nightmare you were gone!” She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “I was so scared!”

“Oh my dear Via. When you’re scared and don’t know where I am, you must remember…” he used a bit of magick to summon his grimoire to him. “No matter what happens to me, I will never be far away…from my special little starfire.”

Blitzø took a few steps back as the grimoire opened. Stolas gestured and a portal opened above the Goetia’s heads. “It always seems more quiet in the dark,” the owl sang softly as his daughter looked up to the stars through the portal. “It always seems so stark, how silence grows under the moon.” A touch of magick had them floating through to a distant world. Blitzø could faintly hear Stolas’ voice but couldn’t make out the words.

Still, he stayed in the room. He never passed up a chance to hear Stolas sing. Even singing a lullaby, he could send shivers down a listener’s spine. The sounds of breaking rocks mingled with the song in the purple light pouring through the portal. Stolas’ voice grew stronger as they returned.

“And when Creation goes to die, you can find me in the sky, upon the last day.” His voice swelled, but the nestling in his arms didn’t stir. She looked contentedly asleep as he placed her back onto her mattress. Blitzø tucked a star patterned blanket around her and the two men backed out of the room.

“And you will be okay.” The lullaby trailed off as the prince quietly closed Via’s door. Stolas held a talon to his beak and they made their way back to his chambers. “Thank you for your help Blitzø.”

The imp shrugged. “Of course. Figured the feather duster wasn’t getting up anyway. Puffball was pretty scared about you being gone though, even had me helping in the nightmare. Wonder where she got that from.” Back in Stolas’ bed, they talked as the owl wrapped himself around Blitzø again.

Stolas sleepily pulled the imp closer. “Mmm, not sure. Could be prophetic? Or just a phase? Hard to tell..” His words turned into snores as he fell back asleep. If Stolas didn’t know, there was no point in Blitzø trying to figure it out alone in the middle of the night. He cuddled into Stolas’ chest feathers and slowed his breathing to get back to sleep.

The next morning, while Stolas prepared breakfast, Octavia padded into the kitchen. The little girl was yawning and had one hand wrapped in her starry blanket. “Hi Daddy, hi Uncle Blitzø,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“Good morning my owlette,” Stolas said in a chipper tone. “How are you feeling today?”

Via climbing onto the bench and cuddled up to Blitzø’s side. “Kinda sleepy. I didn’t like that dream.”

The imp wrapped his arm around her. “Nightmare’s aren’t fun, but it’s over now. Real quick Puffball.” She blinked up at him. “You can’t call me ‘uncle’ sweetie.”

“But why not? I love you Uncle Blitzø.” Her innocent confusion felt like a stab to his heart.

“I love you too Via. But your mum doesn’t like me. And she’ll be super mad if I’m ’Uncle Blitzø,’” he explained gently. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was such a stuck up bitch.

Via pouted. “You’re more fun than Mummy though.” Blitzø couldn’t help the gleeful smile on his face. Take that you dusty whore! If only Stella could hear that, Blitzø would probably explode from joy.

To top it off, Stolas slid plates of cinnamon rolls in front of them. “How about we come up with a nickname instead? That way we can call Blitzø something that is affectionate without angering your mother.”

Octavia, her beak covered in icing, asked, “What does affec-ton-eight mean?”

“Loving, fondness, caring. How we all feel about you, little starfire.” Stolas gave her the definition while wiping off her face with a smile.

Via giggled and immediately got more icing and crumbs on her face with another bite. “Can I call you Blitzy? Like ‘daddy’ or ‘mummy.’”

The imp ruffled her hair feathers. “Blitzy sounds great.” He gestured with a fork laden with cinnamon roll and icing. “You can call me Blitzy too, Floof. Stella can’t really get mad at Via if you’re both calling me that.”

Stolas chomped onto the fork Blitzø was waving around. He took the bite for himself with a teasing smile. “Whatever you say, Blitzy.”

—————

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve been distracted by replaying Hades after the Hades 2 technical test. Also the trailer for Helluva Boss’s season 2 second half has given me feelings.

Tip me through Ko-Fi!

#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva fanfiction #helluva au #blitzo #helluva stolas #blitzo x stolas #helluva stolitz #stolitz #helluva octavia #octavia #you will be okay

[capypub]

Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Scene 3

AU Mafia!Joel Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: T (language, sexual themes)

Minors DNI. 18+ content!

Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 4

Summary: Joel and his Baby Girl meet Bill and Frank. Then proceed to make out in the horse stables.

Something softer, not very Mafia!Joel heavy, but I have an idea in the works.

It was easy to convince her the gun was merely for protection, a precaution he stood by since returning from his time in the military. Having a concealed carry license in his wallet also helped ease some of her anxiety, especially after he explained that practically everyone and their mama carries in Texas. Everything he was saying made sense, so she had no reason to be wary of him. After that hiccup, his relationship with her continued to develop quickly, both absolutely taken by the other, complimenting each other’s energy to near perfection. 

Joel’s presence at the Bison increased drastically over the next two months. Any night Indi was working, he was there, patiently waiting for the last call at his table, usually nursing two or three doubles throughout the night. Outside of work, he seemed to spare no expense, showing up to her apartment with fresh flowers every time they made plans, reserving private rooms for tastings at the finest Texas wineries, leaving her gifts when he couldn’t see her or had to be away for work. 

Until one day, after dinner at one of the best rooftop steakhouses in Austin, Indi put her hand over his as he fisted the gearshift of his Hellcat, the engine purring smoothly around them.

“Joel…” she said softly, looking so hesitant and small in the passenger’s seat, the end of her little black dress riding up as she fidgeted nervously, “I’ve been having such a great time with you, these dates,” she chuckled with a slight shake of her head, almost disbelieving, “these dates are incredible…you’re incredible.”

He smiled warmly, bringing his free hand up to stroke her cheek, his chest filling with warmth as she leaned  into his touch so easily. He leaned over, kissing her softly, the little content sigh she let out only making that warmth in his chest grow. When he pulled away, she was grinning, eyes already beginning to dilate from a single kiss. 

“Just wanna keep seein’ that pretty smile, baby girl,” he said, his voice rich and deep like honey. 

Another thing Joel found himself encouraging was that gorgeous blush on her cheeks. She hated it, having mentioned it in passing, but he loved seeing that slight tinge of pink. Slowly batting her lashes, she pecked his lips, leaning back before he could do anything else or make her blush harder from his sweet words. 

“I was going to say,” she giggled, when he attempted to chase her mouth, “I want to see more of you, Joel, the real you. I’ve learned enough about you to know you wouldn’t just choose to spend a few hours at a winery or a five-star restaurant,” she explained, stroking his beard with her thumb. 

“The real me?” he questioned with a slight frown, caught off guard, “I don’t think you’re ready for that, darlin’,” he added, sighing quietly.

The little smile and chuckle told him that she thought he was joking. In reality, every terrible thing he’s ever done crossed his mind in a flash. Biting his lower lip, he turned his head slightly to look out the front window. 

“Please, Joel? I want to get to know the actual you, good and bad included,” she requested, that little pout instantly blowing through his defenses, leaving him feeling more vulnerable than he was comfortable with in the moment. Rather than fight it, he leaned into it, because it’s probably what she would have wanted, the more serious they became about each other. 

“Okay, baby girl,” he agreed, pulling her in for a slow kiss. 

That’s how they ended up on a ranch about an hour outside of Austin two days later. Joel parked the truck in front of a cozy-looking farmhouse, the circular driveway of dirt kicking up dust as he came to a stop behind an old and beaten down blue truck. He wouldn’t tell her much about where they were going, just that he wanted to take her to a friend’s house. 

“So you used to live here?” she asked as he helped her out of his truck, having developed a habit of opening her door and taking her hand every time she had exited his vehicle. 

“For a bit, yeah, when I got back from Iraq,” he answered, his hand seeking comfort along the curve of her lower back, “Bill and Frank took me in, kept me fed, and all I had to do was take care of the ranch.”

“Are they nice? Bill and Frank?” she questioned, looking up at him as they went up the worn wooden steps to the front door.

“Frank is,” Joel muttered, tapping on the glass before stepping back. 

Before Indi could get another question in, the door swung open, revealing an older man with a graying beard and bright eyes. He was tall, lean and sported a sweater much too warm for this time of year, yet seemed perfectly content with an apron tied around his waist. 

“Look who it is,” the man said, beaming with enthusiasm as he wrapped Joel in a tight hug. 

Indi noticed how Joel only tensed slightly, probably from being caught off guard more than general discomfort. He patted the man on the back with a low chuckle. Joel kept still as the man put both hands on his shoulders, assessing him from head to foot. 

“Good to see you, Frank,” Joel said once the other man gave a quick nod of approval, apparently satisfied with his findings. 

“I know,” Frank said with a smirk, making Joel actually laugh, “And this one? She’s gorgeous, Joel!” he proclaimed, his attention now fully on Indi who had kept slightly behind Joel. 

After he made a proper introduction, Frank led them into the house. It was definitely as cozy as the outside, filled with furniture and knick knacks of a lifetime, yet also filled with warmth and love. 

“Ellie home?” Joel asked as they settled in the kitchen.

Frank scoffed, setting a tray of drinks in the middle of the table, “You know damn well that girl’s never home. She tell you she has a girlfriend now?”

Joel choked on his drink, coughing harshly as he leaned forward, Indi rubbing his back in small circles as he regained his composure. “What now?”

Heavy boots on the wooden floor stopped Frank from answering. A door somewhere in the house closed as the footsteps came closer.

“What’d I tell you about letting strays in?” a deep voice grumbled from the doorway.

Indi turned in her seat to find another man, shorter than Frank but with a roughness similar to Joel. His beard was fuller, blended into his neatly trimmed hair in a mix of chocolate and gray. 

“There you are, come sit,” Frank said, ignoring the man’s comments, “Indi, this is my husband Bill, Bill, come meet Joel’s girlfriend.”

Joel visibly stiffend at the word girlfriend, his eyes darting to Indi to gauge her reaction. She seemed unfazed by the term, shaking Bill’s hand. As Frank continued to lead the conversation between the four of them, going on about Ellie's girlfriend, Joel kept glancing nervously at Indi. Bill remained as stoic as ever, providing input only when prompted by Frank like a dutiful husband. The rest of the time he stared at his drink or around the room. When Indi’s hand came to rest on Joel’s knee, that he hadn’t even realized he’d been bouncing anxiously, he looked at her. 

She didn’t say anything, instead she smiled at him, squeezing his knee comfortingly before turning her attention back to Frank. Joel held her hand under the table, squeezing lightly and receiving one in return. 

“How much gas mileage d’you get on that truck, Joel?” Bill asked, looking out the window, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. 

Indi noticed Frank subtly roll his eyes. 

“Better mileage than that piece o’ shit Chevy you got sittin’ out there,” Joel shot back, sounding serious but breaking out into a laugh when Bill chuckled. 

They ended up staying for a late lunch at Bill and Frank’s. Frank, as always, was the perfect host. Bill grilled some steaks and shared a beer with Joel by the fire while Frank sat with Indi on the back porch. They each had a glass of wine, the conversation coming much easier now that they’d started drinking. 

“You know, you’re the first girl he’s ever brought over,” Frank stated, eyeing Indi with a smirk over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah,” she said with a light laughter and a nervous smile, “Apparently I’m the first for a lot of things with him,” she added, bowing her head slightly.

“He seems happier since we last saw ‘m,” Frank continued, smiling warmly over at Joel and Bill who had their backs to them, “He needs some happiness, if I’m bein’ honest…we all do,” he sighed.

“Can I ask you something, Frank?” Indi spoke up after a brief silence.

“Anything, honey,” he nodded, radiating with charisma and light in the afternoon sun. 

“Who’s Ellie?”

She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his eyes darted over to Joel before returning to her face. He gently touched her arm, giving it a soft pat as he sighed. 

“We have a habit around here of helping out strays,” Frank said softly, “Joel brought her here one day, said she needed a place to stay and the rest is history. Little firecracker that one, good shot too, must’ve picked that up from Joel, I guess.”

Frank could see the confusion in her eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be telling her anything about Ellie, he knew it was Joel’s business to handle, but he could also tell this one was going to stick around for a while. He figured the more prepared she was, the better.

“Ellie was fourteen when she came here, she’s sixteen now, absolute hellraiser, but we love that girl,” Frank continued.

“Why would he bring her here? Wouldn’t it make sense for her to stay with him?” she asked, sipping from her wine glass, glancing over towards Joel as if he might hear them, which Frank knew he wouldn’t with his bad ear directed towards them. 

“It wasn’t safe for her to stay with him, but…I think that’s something you two should discuss, I don’t need to be on the receiving end of his tantrums,” he said with a much warmer smile, nudging her playfully. 

The conversations remained light after that. Bill was an amazing cook. Frank invited them to stay the night, saying the guest room was always available, but Joel shut that conversation down pretty quickly. 

“Mind if I take ‘er to see the horse before we head out?” Joel asked, having drifted closer to Indi at some point during their meal, his arm a comforting weight around her shoulders as she leaned into him, finishing off her third glass of wine and it wasn’t even 5 o’clock yet. 

“You can change the feed while you’re out there,” Bill grumbled around his toothpick, receiving a light smack in the arm from Frank.

“Alright, old man, you got yourself a deal,” Joel agreed with a grin, seeming the most relaxed since Indi had met him. 

“Joel, don’t go gettin’ yourself dirty for no reason, Bill can get the horses,” Frank insisted as the couple stood from the table.

“I don’t mind, really. Thank y’all for today, too” Joel insisted, taking Indi’s hand and leading her down one of the dirt paths snaking across the grounds. 

As they approached the stables, somewhat hidden from the house by a thicket of trees and bushes, Indi looked up at Joel with a wide smile. He wrapped his arm around her, tilting his head down to lightly kiss the side of her head. 

“Ready to see some horses?” he asked, amused by her eagerness. 

Once inside the stables, Indi absolutely lost her mind over the group of horses, all well-kept and gorgeous. He started by introducing her to each horse, already knowing their names.

“This one’s Whiskey, he, uh, he’s mine,” he explained, stroking the animal slowly. 

“Like you bought him?” she asked, offering her hand for Whiskey to sniff, proceeding to stroke his muzzle. 

“Bought ‘m, raised ‘m, makin’ sure he gets everything he needs,” he nodded, sounding a little far away as he stared at the side of Whiskey’s head. 

Indi felt her chest flutter at the idea of Joel’s nurturing side so exposed in the moment. He seemed so relaxed inside the stables, easily refilling buckets of hay with ease as he explained more about how to care for the horses. Indi kept close, content to watch Joel work and admire his ass every time he bent over. 

“This one’s really pretty,” she commented once they reached the last horse needing food.

“Shimmer,” Joel said, “this is Ellie’s horse,” he added, avoiding her gaze momentarily. 

“I feel like I should ask who exactly is Ellie,” she said, noticing the hitch in his breathing and tension in his arms, “But I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready, so I won’t,” she added, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his torso, nuzzling the back of his shirt.

Joel sighed, a deep and heavy breath of relief. God, this girl was something else. He appreciated her not pushing him on things like this. Turning around, he brought both arms around her, pulling her against him and leaning down to kiss her. Her arms slipped around his neck, holding herself to him as she stood up on the tips of her toes to try and gain more leverage. With ease, Joel gripped the back of her thighs, his mouth never leaving hers, as he lifted her up, encouraged by the muffled squeak she let out as he settled her legs around his waist. 

He caged her between his body and the wall next to Shimmer’s pen. She groaned as he licked into her mouth, rough hands holding her up, the scruff of his beard scratching pleasantly against her. 

“You’re fucking amazing, baby girl, you know that?” he asked gruffly when he pulled back, eyes hazy with need as he looked up at her. 

“Yeah?” she laughed, still trying to recover from the heat of his kiss.

“Absolutely,” he growled, capturing her mouth in another heated kiss, this time a little rougher and a little more urgent. 

The deep groan from his throat when she squeezed her legs tighter around his waist and moved her hips just slightly was animalistic. She could feel how hard he was each time she shifted her hips, her body warm with desire as Joel squeezed and groped her ass. His mouth was just as rough on her neck, urgent nips and licks that had her squirming, hot breaths fanning her warm body as she moaned softly in his ear. 

“J-Joel,” she said tremulously, grabbing at the collar of his shirt to anchor herself.

He kissed her again, a primal groan rumbling in his chest when she eagerly matched his pace, seeming just as worked up. The sound of the horses whinnying, eating, or moving about their pen was faint, almost nonexistent to him as he felt her thighs squeeze his sides again. Fuck, if she kept that up, he’d lose his mind. 

“Joel,” she said, a little clearer this time, putting a hand on his chest to bring his focus back.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he cooed slowly, his chest rising and falling quickly, eyes focussed on her lips that were swollen and wet.

“I…I can’t keep going,” she admitted, looking nervous as she bit her lip.

“Why? What’s the matter?” he asked, trying to catch his breath as he gently set her down.

She mumbled something unintelligible to him, looking down and fidgeting with her bracelet.

“What’s that, darlin’?” he asked again, leaning down to try and understand her.

“The horses…” she said a little louder, still avoiding his eyes as she crossed her arms over her body, “...they’re staring.”

Turning around, Joel spotted Shimmer and one other with their heads sticking out. He wouldn’t exactly call it staring, it was just how they looked sometimes. The others had moved away from the doors, most likely to settle in for the evening. He couldn’t help the soft laugh as he turned back around. 

“They’re not staring at us, darlin’,” he chuckled, trying to pull her close again.

“They’re watching us,” she insisted, an adorable pout on her lips.

“Want to go somewhere more private, baby girl?” he offered, openly adjusting his still hard cock through his jeans as best he could. 

“Yeah,” she agreed as she bit her lip, her gaze drifting to his crotch momentarily before she wrapped her arms around his forearm as he guided them back to the main house, “But can we come back soon?” she asked while they were walking. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and kissed her temple, slipping his arm from her grasp to wrap around her. She curled one arm around his waist as they continued towards the truck.

“Anytime, baby, anytime,” he agreed, enjoying the raw sense of calm he felt walking through the ranch in the early evening hours, the sounds of nature surrounding them as he breathed in fresh air and held his girl close, absolutely content. 

The moment came to a crashing halt when he remembered what Frank had said earlier. He’d called Indi his girlfriend. As if reading his mind, she glanced up at him with a hint of mischief in her smile, biting her lower lip as she batted her lashes at him.

“So how long have you been telling people I’m your girlfriend?” she asked, grinning slyly. 

“Frank likes to assume things,” he tried to explain. 

“So he assumed wrong, then?” she questioned, raising a brow at him, still smirking.

“N-no, baby girl, ‘course not, I just…I just mean he di-.”

“Joel,” she stopped him by putting a hand on his chest, coming to a stop on the trail, “I’m messing with you, it’s okay,” she soothed him.

He sighed heavily. “Don’t play like that, honey,” he huffed, “You know what we’ve got goin’ on ain’t just messin’ ‘round,” he insisted.

“I know, I’m just curious what we’re calling ‘what we’ve got goin’ on,’ you know?” 

He took a deep breath, bringing both his arms around her waist, turning their bodies to face each other. She leaned into his touch, both hands on his chest as she looked up at him with pure adoration. His voice was husky when he spoke into her ear, suggestive and dangerous. 

“You can call it whatever you want, baby girl, but just know you’re mine and I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Scene 4

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #mafia!joel miller #mob!joel miller #pedro pascal au #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller drabble

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Damaged Wings

Summary: Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo, The Butcher Bingo, Eclipsing Bingo. Set in a Modern AU/Horse Riding AU.

Despite Stoick’s assurances that he wasn’t sending his son away, Hiccup can’t help but feel like he’s lying through his teeth. He packed his son’s stuff, put him on a boat and then sent him away along with his mother. Claiming that her sanctuary for dragons would be a much more suitable place for him as he works through the trauma of the past year.

Warnings: Medical trauma, Medical inaccuracies, Hospitalization

Rating: Mature

Words: 2 765

Prompt: Damaged Wing(s) (Bad Things Happen Bingo), Hating What You Loved Before (The Butcher Bingo), Dragged Along The Ground (Eclipsing Bingo)

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Valka, Toothless

Pairing: Stalka

Author's Note: I've been wanting to write about Hiccup riding horses in a Modern AU, but never really found the right incentive until today. It's about as fun as I imagined it to be. I'll write a non-whump one-shot about it someday, too. :)

Hiccup is so a horse girl.

It's also 4am, lol.

Enjoy!

@badthingshappenbingo

@thebutcherbingo

@eclipsingbingo

#badthingshappenbingo #the butcher bingo #eclipsing bingo #httyd fics #httyd movies #httyd #how to train your dragon #au #alternate universe #horse riding au #modern au #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #valka #the haddocks #toothless #hicctooth #my fanfics #damaged wings

[lucydarkrain]

The Big Four - American Gods AU

Hiccup is a pet store employee and a volunteer in an animal rescue group. He adopted a black cat named Toothless with bicolor pupils from an animal shelter in high school and has kept it ever since. Every time he sees an animal in trouble, he instinctively rescues it.

The green chameleon found by the street is the per belonged to the youth goddess, the injured brown bear rescued in the forest is actually the family of the goddess of war, the hummingbird with a broken wing is actually the messenger of the God of Winter, and so on. The old gods hide their identities and live as usual humans in the human world, and are connected with Hiccup for his help with the animals, giving him quiet attention and playing tricks on him. However, the peace ended recently, when some of the old gods discovered that a horse Hiccup had been helping to feed turned out to be the Dark God's spirit animal.

Hiccup’s memory was blocked and he did not know his true identity was Vidar, the Norse God of primitive nature and forest. The dark god used the contradiction between human and nature to trigger the war of the gods, and then the Moon God blocked his memory as a god. The scar left on his lip during the war is the key to unlock his memory.

- Jack Frost -

The elusive silver-haired boy, an apprentice at an antique toy shop, is actually Jokul Frosti, the God of Winter. He participated in the great in war of the gods and had his memories stolen. North helped him disguise as an apprentice to find his identity, since then he has been in the identity of Jack Frost and is trying to find the old gods around the world. After learning that his hummingbird had been saved by Hiccup, Jaco secretly visited him on a snowy winter day. Due to the weather, Hiccup thought Jack was a phantom at that time. He would play pranks on Hiccup but will help him out when Hiccup is actually in danger.

- Rapunzel -

The real identity of this girl that’s living on the hill tower house was Idun, the Norse goddess of youth. She was in charge of the golden apples that could keep the gods young in the age of the old Gods. However, due to the chaos of the war of the gods, she transferred the power of these golden apples to her long hair, and was the only god who did not need believers to sacrifice. Did not participate in the Great War of gods, but disappeared after that. Since Sunday is the Idun day of the sun so she often appears on Sunday, also known as Miss Sunday. The forces from all across the world desperately sought her to use her power. Knows Hiccup’a true identity the first time she saw him.

- Nicolas St. North -

The winter sun god, who the Slavs believed represented the weak and old sun, was defeated by the Black God and died, but would be revived on the winter solstice as the new god Koleda (meaning "Christmas "). He was the god of war and war in Slavic mythology, and was the supreme god among the Slavs along the Baltic Sea. The War of the Gods ended in defeat when Hiccup was used, and then they tried to find all the old gods to prevent the return of the Black God.

- Merida -

The keeper of pastures and forests, her real identity is one of the major gods in Celtic mythology, Morrigan, the goddess of war. She was once the main object of worship for the armies in the Old Gods era, and had a close relationship with the nature god Hiccup, who was indirectly used because she did not participate in the great war of the gods. Since then she has been watching his movements and alert for the return of the bla

#rise of the brave tangled dragon #how to train your dragon #tangled #rapunzel #brave #hiccup #merida #mericcup #httyd #jack frost #the big four #jackunzel #rotg

[xgoldenlatiasx]

Pokéblogs Master Post

I saw a mutual do this and thought you know what. I have a good few already and that number might increase so I’m making this now

EDIT: blogs marked with a 💛 means this blog is set in the Heroverse (Blake’s universe) in some capacity. any who aren’t marked w/ this are either set in the canon pkmn timeline or just some other non-heroverse timeline

💛@pinkhairandpokemon- Blake’s blog that they occasionally share w/ Hop and Auberi

💛@thunderblessedhero- N’s blog, who he sometimes shares w/ Zekrom

💛@partnersintime- Quartz’ blog, my Sinnoh protag

💛@scarlet-rider- Florence’s blog, my Paldea protag (not very active rn because i scrapped the plotline i was doing with her and idk what to do with her blog now)

@pokehorsegirl- Paisley, literally just a horse girl in the pkmn world

@bisharpenjoyer- Deidre, an assassin OC disguised as a regular blacksmith

@dragontamerhiccup- Hiccup and Toothless crossover blog

@coolguyhilbert- a Hilbert blog that i made as a joke. he’s a little shit

💛@keldeochamp1on- August blog, my BW2 protag, who they sometimes share with Hugh

💛@weirdcelebi- blog for Royce and Lotus, N and Blake’s future kids, and their weird Celebi

💛@sapphireseafarer- blog for Arcelia, my ORAS protag

@justanothercastelian- a blog for Plasma AU!Blake, after they left Team Plasma

#pokemon #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pkmn rp #masterpost

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Can we see spies who are soulmates and a drunk confession at a library?? Your choice of ship (I love your writing)

Here's a Yennskier soulmate AU where your soulmark appears on your wrist the first time you touch your soulmate skin-to-skin. Approximately 2K, rated M, no warnings.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Yennefer growls as she yanks Jaskier into the Duke’s library, slamming the door behind them. With a flick of her finger and a muttered spell, she locks and seals the door so no one else will be able to get in.

Jaskier giggles and leans against her, eyes bright and glassy with drink. “Darling Yennefer, how can I think of anything in the face of your beauty?”

Yennefer growls at him. Had she known, when Phillipa Eilhart offered her a position with the Redanian Secret Service after the debacle with the Lyrian queen, how often she would end up babysitting this blithering idiot, she would have told Phillipa to fuck off. She still might. She told Phillipa that she didn’t want to work with the bard anymore, and all Phillipa said was that they balanced each other out nicely and both their skill sets were needed if they were going to infiltrate Duke Alistair’s home and find evidence that he’s spying for Nilfgaard. 

“Anyway, you’re soulmates,” Phillipa said when Yennefer protested further. “Shouldn’t you work well together?”

“A dandelion on my wrist means nothing,” Yennefer snapped back. “All the soul marks in the world can’t make up for the fact that he’s a buffoon.”

Phillipa shrugged. “Well, you and the buffoon should be on the road for the Duke’s holdings by nightfall.”

One of these days, Yennefer is going to quit and retire somewhere sunny, like Toussaint.

“I got the papers.” Jaskier waves them in Yennefer’s face. “Look at all these letters!”

“Let me see.” Yennefer snatches them from him and scans them over quickly. They’re in a rudimentary code, one that she imagines she could break easily enough in a day or two, but they don’t have time to spend a day or two codebreaking right now. They’ll have to hope that these are the papers they came here for.

“See?” Jaskier crows. “While you were canoodling with the Duchess, I was being useful!”

“I wasn’t canoodling with the Duchess. I was listening to her complain about all the time her husband spends at the hunting lodge. She was sure he had a mistress he was keeping there, so she sent one of her maids to follow him and the girl came back with the report that he wasn’t meeting a mistress, but a mysterious man with a Nilfgaardian accent.”

“The mysterious man with a Nilfgaardian accent could be a mistress.” Jaskier hiccups. "Though given the Duke's tastes, I do doubt it. It seems more likely that he's the Duke's handler."

"Really?" Sarcasm drips from Yennefer's words. "Thank you, Jaskier. I hadn't thought of that."

"Always happy to help a colleague." He tries to salute her and nearly pokes himself in the eye. "Especially a beautiful one."

Before she can think of a properly scathing reply, Yennefer is distracted by people shouting outside. She crosses to the window to see guards mounting horses in the courtyard below while the Duke shouts orders. Stepping back, she says, “They’ve noticed we’re gone, but it looks like they assume we’ve run off. Hopefully, that means they won’t think to search the castle for us.”

“Then I suppose we should hole up here for a bit.” Jaskier attempts to waggle his eyebrows, but he’s so drunk he seems to have lost control of his facial muscles, so it loses some of its effectiveness.

“How much did you have to drink?” Yennefer demands.

Jaskier waves a dismissive hand. “Two or three glasses of wine.”

“Along with half a bottle of vodka?” Because Yennefer has seen Jaskier put away half a bottle of wine without getting more than a little flushed and giggly many times. He shouldn’t be falling down drunk right now.

“Gods, no. Have you tasted the vodka the Duke serves? I’ve tasted better stuff in the dingiest backwoods tavern.”

Yennefer closes the space between them, taking Jaskier’s face in her hands. She ignores another attempt at eyebrow waggling as she looks into his eyes. His pupils are enormous. “Bardling, this is important. Did you have anything to drink except for the wine?”

“Nope.” Jaskier looks offended. “I would never get drunk while on assignment, Yennefer. What kind of amateur do you take me for?”

“Fuck.” Yennefer lets go of his face, reaching up her sleeve.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“You’ve either been drugged or poisoned. Either way, you need an antidote.”

“But why would they drug or poison me?” His mouth drops open in outrage. “I’m much more pleasant to be around than you.”

Yennefer doesn’t dignify that with an answer as she fumbles for the little leather pouch she keeps holstered to her forearm. The only good thing about these obnoxiously voluminous sleeves that have become fashionable in the past few years is that they make excellent hiding spots. She slips a small glass vial out, sniffs it to make sure it’s the right one, and holds it out to Jaskier.

“Drink,” she says. “It’s a purifying potion. Whatever toxin is running through you right now, this will neutralize it.”

But Jaskier doesn’t respond. He’s looking at her with a misty expression.

“What?” Yennefer demands before glancing down. When she pushed aside her sleeve, she exposed the dandelion on her wrist, with its bright yellow petals and curling green leaves. It’s a shock of color next to her black velvet dress.

“I forget sometimes.” Jaskier touches his own wrist, where she knows there’s a violet flame soulmark hidden under his doublet.

“Lucky you.” Yennefer twitches her sleeve back into place, covering the soulmark, but Jaskier pulls it back again.

“I know we agreed not to talk about it,” he says. “Or rather, you said you’d turn me into an eel if I tried to talk about it.”

“A threat that still stands.”

“But don’t you ever wonder?” Jaskier looks up at her with big, sad eyes. “Don’t you ever wonder what would happen if we just… let ourselves be together?”

“No,” Yennefer says flatly. “Now take the fucking potion. You’re under the influence of something, which is why you’re not already an eel wriggling on the ground.”

“Don’t you feel it too? The pull?”

She breathes out hard through her nose. “It’s not real, bardling. It’s just soulmate magic.”

“But what if it’s not? What if we’re meant to be together and we’re just consigning ourselves to lives of misery by denying it?”

“I’m already consigned to a life of misery by having to deal with you constantly.” It’s far from Yennefer’s best snipe and she knows it, which just annoys her. She’s usually more quick on her feet with her comebacks. “Just take the damn potion. We can talk about this later.”

“But we won’t talk about this later.” Jaskier sighs gustily. “We’ll go back to Tretogor, you’ll hand Dijkstra the papers and portal away, and I won’t see you again until the next time I bribe Phillipa into sending us on assignment together.”

“You bribed Phillipa?” It’s not that Yennefer expects honesty from spies, but she thought that Phillipa would at least be above Jaskier’s bullshit.

Jaskier looks even smugger than usual. “Phillipa is very fond of a particular vintage of Est Est that’s nearly impossible to find these days. I procured her one of the last bottles in existence.”

“Why?” Yennefer demands.

“Because you’re my soulmate and I love you! And I think you might learn to love me too, if you would just give us a chance.”

“You don’t love me.” She’s not sure why she’s still standing here. She has the papers; she could portal away and leave Jaskier to his own devices. “It’s just the soulmate magic ruining the little bit of good sense you have.”

“I’ve loved you since before the soulmarks activated.” Jaskier’s eyes are wide, wet, and far too earnest.

That renders Yennefer speechless for a moment. When she finally manages to speak, all she can say is, “What the fuck are you talking about, bardling?”

“I’ve loved you since Rinde.”

“Rinde was a clusterfuck.” Rinde had been one of the first missions Yennefer and Jaskier had gone on together, a wild goose chase after a rumored djinn that Prince Radovid wanted for its wishes. It was only weeks later, safely back in Tretogor, that they touched skin to skin for the first time, Jaskier casually brushing his fingers against the back of Yennefer’s hand, activating their soulmarks.

“It was.” He gazes off into the distance, looking a little dreamy. “But you were magnificent. You saved both our lives ten times over. You’re the only reason we didn’t get our heads chopped off when we returned to Tretogor empty-handed.”

“I’m the reason we returned to Tretogor empty-handed.” Yennefer was the one who got it in her head to use the djinn for her own devices.

“You were right in that Radovid couldn’t be trusted with that kind of power.” Jaskier shrugs. “I’d known you were beautiful and terrifying since the first time I met you, but I didn’t realize just how magnificent you were until after Rinde. It has nothing to do with the soulmark, Yenn. I just love you and can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Jaskier,” she says a little desperately.

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” He smiles shakily. “I just want to be with you, however you’ll let me.”

Yennefer stares at him, torn between the urges to portal away and never look back and grab the idiot’s face and kiss him even more senseless. Jaskier is ridiculous, vain, and self-centered. He causes more trouble for the Redanian government than he fixes. He has angry lovers scattered across the Continent and probably at least one love child. She’s never met a more exasperating person.

And yet, she’s saved his life and he’s saved hers. They’ve dragged each other out of more scrapes than she can count. There have been a half a dozen times where Yennefer’s job would have been so much easier if she had turned away and left the bard to his fate, but she never did.  He’s an objectively beautiful man, so she’s blamed that and the soulmate magic for all the times she’s caught her gaze lingering on his fingers while he plucked at his lute strings or found her own lips curling in an answering smile when he laughs.

If she’s honest with herself, she can admit that there were several times she caught herself staring before the soulmarks manifested.

Yennefer doesn’t have time to be honest with herself, not with a poisoned soulmate, a handful of letters that could be the key to rousting out the network of Nilfgaardian spies they’ve been hunting for years, and a castle full of guards with swords.

“Jaskier,” she whispers, letting her hand settle on the front of his doublet. The fabric is silky beneath her hand.

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “Yennefer?”

“You could have just told me how you felt.”

“We’ve known each other for over a decade, Yenn, and I know I wasn’t subtle.”

She leans in close, feeling Jaskier’s breath ghost over her lips. His eyes go wide in surprise before they flutter shut. He leans towards her, lips parting…

And Yennefer pops the cork off the bottle of potion with her thumb before shoving it in his mouth. Jaskier makes a strangled noise of protest, his eyes flying open.

“Don’t spit it out,” she warns. “That’s the only dose I have.”

For once in his miserable life, Jaskier obeys, swallowing the purifying potion. Once it’s gone, Yennefer withdraws the bottle from his lips.

“You… absolute…” Jaskier doubles over with a groan, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “Fuck.”

“It would have been more pleasant if you had just taken it when I told you to,” Yennefer lies. She’s had to take a purifying potion several times, and it’s always like living a daylong hangover in a matter of minutes. It’s never anything approaching pleasant.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I would, but I’m a little busy carrying this mission on my back and keeping the both of us alive.”

Jaskier’s only answer is a loud, long groan. Taking pity on him, Yennefer summons a chair from the other side of the library for him to sink into, rocking back and forth miserably. After several long minutes, Jaskier sits up, looking slightly green. His eyes are bloodshot.

“Fuck,” he says. “Next time someone poisons me, just let me die.”

“That was already the plan,” Yennefer deadpans.

He glares at her. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Had you just acted like a fucking adult and taken the potion, it wouldn’t have been necessary.”

“I was poisoned.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He huffs. “My memory is perfectly fine. Never fear, you and I will be talking about this after we get back to Tretogor alive and I’ve drunk my weight’s worth of water and maybe slept for a day or—”

His words are cut off in a shriek as Yennefer grabs him by the front of the doublet and yanks him through the portal.

They are never talking about this, she decides.

***

“I knew you liked me,” Jaskier says smugly a month later. They’re crammed together in a lice-infested bed in a lice-infested inn, on the hunt for another one of the Nilfgaardian spies exposed in the papers they liberated from the Duke’s estate. “Deep, deep down.”

Yennefer watches the way the violet flame on his wrist seems to flicker in the candlelight. “You knew shit all, bardling.”

“Nope, I remember clapping eyes on you for the first time and thinking to myself, ‘that woman is going to be madly, passionately in love with me within a decade, just wait and see.’”

“Funny, I remember seeing you for the first time and thinking, ‘I wonder when Phillipa started turning peacocks into men and letting them loose on the citizens of Redania.’”

“She did turn me into a peacock once. It was only for a few minutes, but it was fucking traumatizing.”

Yennefer snorts. “What kind of Est Est can she be bribed with? I’ll get her a thousand bottles if she does that again.”

“There aren’t a thousand bottles left, you witch.” Jaskier presses a kiss to her shoulder, then lifts her wrist to his mouth to kiss her dandelion soulmark. “Anyway, you seem to like me just fine as a man.”

“You have your uses.”

He huffs a laugh against her soulmark. “You can’t pretend you don’t adore me.”

She rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “Well, you did just go nearly twenty minutes without speaking, so I like you far more than I usually do.”

“I suppose that’s the key then.” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “You keep my mouth occupied.”

“No, the key is you shutting the fuck up once in a while.”

He frowns, considering. “Nah, I’ve tried that. Not for me.”

Yennefer sighs. “Bardling, you’re incorrigible.”

“You like it,” Jaskier says with entirely unearned confidence, pressing another kiss against her soulmark. If the sensation of his lips against her soulmark does something funny to her insides, that’s no one’s business but her own. Maybe this is just soulmate magic or destiny meddling where it has no business doing so, but it’s hard to care about that wrapped up in her soulmate’s arms, his lips against her pulse point and his heart beating against hers. She can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

At least, until he falls on top of her and starts to snore.

***

Tag list:  @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard

#the witcher #yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #prompt fills #ghost's writing #i just imagine that jaskier is still traveling with geralt in between his missions for the RSS #and geralt is getting increasingly wtf about all jaskier's stories about his soulmate who is definitely in love with him #she just keeps threatening to turn him into things #but really it's fine geralt she'll come around

[dayeongi]

Riptide

(98687 words) by

dayeongi

Chapters: 32/32

Fandom:

How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson, Heather & Astrid Hofferson

Characters: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Astrid Hofferson, Astrid Hofferson's Mother, Stoick the Vast, Valka (How to Train Your Dragon), Snotlout Jorgenson, Fishlegs Ingerman, Ruffnut Thorston, Tuffnut Thorston, Gobber the Belch, Eret (How to Train Your Dragon), Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Stormfly (How to Train Your Dragon), Camicazi (How to Train Your Dragon)

Additional Tags: Berk (How to Train Your Dragon), New York City, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, United Kingdom, United States, Horses, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Vikings, ask me about the playlist lol, Horse Racing, Photography, Family Drama, Inspired by Eivør's Trollabundin, Summer Romance, Camping, Horseback Riding, Family Angst, based on Rip Tide, Model AU, jockey, Spanish Translation Available

RIPTIDE

Summary:

Astrid Hofferson, reluctant model, celebrity and It Girl is tired of living the same hollow life she’s always lived so she runs to Berk, a small isle country in the UK to visit her aunt until the storm passes. Hiccup Haddock, son of Stoick (the lawperson of the Isle), is stuck between his parents’ issues (a parent that abandoned him and another that doesn't understand him) and fears he’s losing the chance to pursue his dreams.

#httyd #hiccstrid fanfiction #finally finished it! #dayeongi writes

[artinandwritin]

alright I wanna hear all about this ghost hunting au please please please

OH YEAH OFC!! Id love to infodump hehe

As for the "basic knowledge " for this au, cuz ofc I can't do an au without vicariously planning every single detail, we're talking about a modern au type of au here, set between 2015-2021 in the small - kinda haunted - town of Berk. Ghostly appearances and voices that don't belong are a regular for some inhabitants.

Luckily, we got some Ghost Hunters to take care of things, and not just any Ghost Hunters, no, these are famous, inspiring ones. Everyone wants them, everyone wants to be them, cuz they've got money from living off of YouTube. Great.

Spoiler, these Ghost Hunters are the Gang cuz ofc they are. Hiccup's a successful capturer of supernatural evidence and a great exorcist and operates the most dangerous houses with his trusted crew, existing of his wife Astrid, his cousin Snotlout, and friends Fishlegs, Ruff and Tuff. They're having fun and I love them in this au <3

Zooming in a little bit, we're turning our cameras to the biggest fanboy of Ghosts, first year college student Gustav, and his new bestie, Liam Arnesen (my friend's Sol's oc!). Well, Gustav has big hopes and dreams for the future; one, getting rich af, two, get a pretty person to be the love of his life, and three, to start a successful Ghost Hunting company like his big half-brother Snotlout and cousin Hiccup. Sure, he's got no money cuz daddy Spitelout stopped paying child support to his mom, but he's got the spirit and the diplomas from online courses about Ghosts to make up for it.

Luckily, fate decides to be nice to him and brings him a medium, in the form of Solveig Onfroy (another one of Sol's ocs!), Liam's fierce girlfriend. She's an absolute queen who is able to sense Ghosts around her, like a badass, and Gustav's like, "you. I want you. In the company". And Solveig says, "um. Well okay I guess?".

So Solveig, Liam and Gustav schedule a time and date to go visit an abandoned, allegedly haunted house - Gustav takes his childhood friend, high school senior Siri Vínteri, with him as well, just cuz he likes her face and gets all butterflies when he's around her. Totally platonic. Siri is a hashtag rich kid, a cousin to Ghost Hunter Astrid, very sweet, a bit naive, that whole shabang. She's also a horse girl and thinks a 100 bucks is the same as 10 bucks. Yeah, that's what generational wealth does to a person. It's a problem.

The four go on an adventure in the haunted house and after some wacky shenanigans, they decide to finally start Gustav's company and air their show online! The Ghost Hunter. Inc is a fact. This all happens in autumn to winter of 2015, its a wild ride. Soon after this, Gustav and Siri start dating - Siri treats her broke boyfriend to a lot of little presents cuz she doesn't know how to handle money - and life goes on.

Skip to a few years later, to december of 2020, Solveig and Liam have gotten married, the company has gained two more employees, Luka Grimborn and his girl Kristen Everson (two ocs of my friend Chloe, Kris' name might get a change! Idk yet, she's been talking about it), and they've settled into an easy life style. Most of them have part time jobs outside of their Ghost Hunting business, but it's a sincere passion project for all of them - even if Hiccup's company still has more subscribers, lmao.

One night, Gus and Siri do a little haunted house exploration of their own. They had gotten engaged a few months prior and were currently getting ready for their wedding, fun times. However, shit sure does happen in that haunted house, called Edgewater Mental Asylum. Siri gets attacked by the Ghost of an angry mother who had lost her baby in childbirth, called Isabella, now searching for a new baby to raise. Welp, Seer finds out she's pregnant. Fun times for her for sure. After a long struggle and some injuries, the Ghost disappears. GusSiri goes to Solveig and Liam in a panic, not sure how to handle with what had happened.

While Solveig doesn't notice anything weird, her adoptive daughter, five year old Elanor, does notice. A medium as well, she senses Siri's pregnancy and how the baby is a little boy. However, she senses something else as well. Something... Dark, inside of Siri.

Ding ding, our girl's possessed!

No-one believes little Elanor, though. Sadness. However, she seems to have been right as time passes and the signs get more and more noticable, until Isabella fully takes over and attacks the little girl, with Zephyr Haddock, Hiccup's daughter, in the room.

Time for an exorcism! While, after much struggle, Isabella leaves Siri's body, her influence hangs around, causing Seer's son to be born prematurely. After this, Siri temporarily leaves the company, but returns after working things over with Gustav and Solveig about her role in the workplace. She wouldn't go on trips anymore, just stay home with her son and do the work behind the scenes. I have the feeling she would start a podcast and invite other ghost hunters for the hot tea. Astrid would probably be a regular.

So yeah, that's kind of the basics! Since it's a pretty old au, some parts are under construction and backstories are being rewritten, which has forced me to leave a lot of shit out which i think is sad.

Anyways, its more brutal than i show here. It's so, so much more brutal. Isabella nearly murders Seer in the first chapters and Solveig is forced to use violence on her highly pregnant friend. Also, child abuse by cranky ghost. It's fun >:)

Thank you sm for the ask!! I loved answering this sm you have no idea. This au is so dear to my heart - cuz it's my oldest - and i love it sm. All the hugs to you <333

#thank you for the ask! #httyd oc #ghost hunter au #oc #oc x canon #gussiri #siri vínteri #artinandwritin's lore #gustav httyd

[wolverina2002]

To Edoras

A drafted scene that didn´t make it into the final work for the AU, but Iv like it well enough to post it here.

Alea peels off from the three hunters after they leave Eomer and his Eodred behind, Silmaril cheerfully tossing his head and straining nervously against the reins. Alea lets them slip through her fingers, just barely catching them with her fingertips.

Smoke on the horizon, Fion´d told her.

Not ahead, towards Fangon, but westward. It could be a lot of things, from a small bushfire to another raiding party of Uruk-hai, even with an Eodred having cleaned up recently. Especially after Eomer and his men have broken up a huge band of that foul folk recently, if there are survivors around, Alea will have to take care of them. She gently touches her heels to Silmaril´s flanks and her black stallion streches into a swift gallop across the grassland. The grass is chest high here, parting before Silmaril like waves before the bow of a ship. Alea leans over his neck and makes herself light as mile upon mile vanishes under her steed´s gray hooves. Gawad runs along with them, head held low to the ground and ears up, alert to everything moving on the plain. High above, Fion sweeps.

Hours pass and the sun begins to set. Alea wonders how far her brother and his friends have come by now. Have they reached Fangorn by now?

Silmaril tossing his head and letting out a shrill neigh rips her out of her thoughts. She takes the reins up tighter and moves with her horse as he jumps fluidly across a small creek. Ahead of her, in the rising dark, she can see the shape of another horse, it´s rider small and scrawny. A child, and a deeply frightend one at that. Alea catches Silmaril´s run and slows her stallion down to a stop right next to the children.

"Hello", she greets them in the tounge of this land, "My name is Starwind, or at least that is what your people call me in your tounge. I´m called Alea in Westron, and what are your names?"

The boy looks downright frightend, but his eyes latch desperatly onto a competent adult. The girl squeaks when Gawad meanders over to sniff her but then giggles as he licks her face.

"M Éothain, and that´s my sister Freda. Mother said to ride to Edoras and tell them ... tell them about ...."

He hiccups and Alea can figure out what happend.

"Your village?"

Éothain nods, bravely fighting tears. Alea guides Silmaril next to his gelding and rests a hand on the boy´s shoulder.

"What´s your horse called, Éothain?", she asks gently, hoping to distract him.

"His name´s Gárulf, and m not actually supposed to ride him, father says he´s too big for me, n he´s right! Freda fell off an now I can´t get her because Gárulf´s too big ...."

Éothain sobs and burries his face in the gelding´s mane. Gárulf huffs and noses Silmaril´s neck, content for the moment. Alea slides off, her shoulder cape falling heavy across her side as she kneels next to Freda. Gawad still stands by her, letting himself be pet.

"He´s very sweet", Freda declares, focussed on the unusually docile wolf rather than the traumatic events of the day.

Alea smiles and ruffles her hair.

"That he is."

Suddenly, Silmaril tosses his head up, rearing up a bit and nipping Gárulf in the hindquarter. The gelding whinnies nervously and trots, heading west and south. Éothain yelps and tries to stop him, but Alea has already heard what alerted Silmaril.

"Wolves. Freda, you´ll ride Silmaril with me, he can easily carry both of us."

Freda nods, eyes wide and frightend as Alea wraps her arms around the girls chest from behind. Silmaril kneels like a well-trained dressage horse at the click of her tounge and she settles Freda in the saddle before whirling around and drawing an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Gawad snarls as he stands behind her, Silmaril bolting after Gárulf. Alea draws, aims at one of the glimmering points of amber in the dark and lets the arrow fly.

The ward goes down with a howl and the pack disperses, suddenly weary of a prey that bites back. Alea doesn´t allow herself to get involved in a fight if they can simply outrun it and storms after Silmaril, whisteling for Gawad along the way.

"To Edoras, Silmaril", she calls as she hoists herself into the saddle.

#fanfiction #the two towers #rohirrim #artwork #I MADE A THING #well #with a template and stuff #BUT I MADE THIS

[tysonrunningfox]

Toothless: Return to the Black Pony of Second Chances

Part 3 | AO3 (I’m too lazy to link all former chapters because tumblr doesn’t want to show me part 2 and I don’t know why but Archive has them all and it’s easier so there)  

I’m going to try and finish this because I love my dumb horse girl Hiccup au a lot and need structure to try.  

Town isn’t so much an actual town as it is an actual general store with a big, ancient sign that says General Store a gas pump out front, a Denny’s in a Best Western parking lot, a post office combined with a vaguely ominous sounding “Best Trader’s Bank”, and a nameless bar with a Coors Light sign half lit in the front window.  Not only is it not big enough for Astrid and me, it’s not big enough to earn a dot on the atlas map.  If I had service, I’d check if it’s even worth a dot on Google Maps but my service is roaming with the buffalo, wherever they do that, I’m assuming it’s nearby.  I’m sure that if Google could see me, Google would think I was going to show up in the news for surviving being lost in the Wyoming wilderness.

Or dying, you know, which seems more probable with the way Astrid is glowering at the list my dad gave her.

She’s very angry.  I remember that from when we were seven. Or my scalp remembers because there’s a very primal throbbing on the back of my head like by second grade, she had the unique ability to target people where they’d died in a past life.

I don’t necessarily remember her looking like a very muddy and really hot but vicious attack lap dog of my father’s, but after half an hour in the truck while she unflinchingly blared country and refused to look at me, I think I’ve got her figured out.  It’s not like there are very many personality types in Wyoming, and I think I can put her surprisingly dedicated irritation with me in the same corner as my dad’s deep and eternal disappointment.  

“You can wait in the truck.” Astrid’s offer is more like an order and I unbuckle my seatbelt the instant she parks the truck.  

“I’ve been in this truck all day, I need to stretch my legs,” I say it to make her uncomfortable, but she either doesn’t hear or doesn’t remember, because she doesn’t react except to glare at me that I interrupted her counting the money my dad gave her. “What?  They don’t take Apple Pay?”  

“I really don’t need your help,” she double checks the list and tucks it into the grimy pocket of her shirt. The wrists are unbuttoned and it looks like she purposefully dragged them through filthy water, like some bastardization of hick tie-dye.  

“Fine, then I won’t help.” I get out of the truck and stretch my arms over my head, simultaneously overheated in the direct sun and chilled by the wind that cuts through my hoodie like Astrid’s glare.  “Nice park job by the way.”  I point out one of the behemoth’s tires on the crookedly painted line and she huffs at me before deciding against it, her nose pointedly in the air as she stalks off into the shop.  

The silent treatment, my old nemesis.  

One time my mom managed it for a day and a half and I thought I was going to pull my hair out, but that’s my mom.  She knows me. Astrid can’t seem to be not furious for even a second so I doubt she’ll keep it up for long.  

A second gust of wind slams the door shut after me, ruffling a bulletin board full of flyers.  Most of them are advertising things for sale, like a manual Craigslist, and a couple are alerting the few but lucky patrons to fire danger in the area.  The biggest is a poster tacked down at all four corners, advertising the Berk County Rodeo as the oldest continuously running rodeo in Wyoming and promising prize money in a variety of events that I would guess all involve wrestling farm animals.  And that just makes me remember that my dad’s plan is for grueling, back breaking farm labor to miraculously return me to the obedient son that I never even was.  

I thought last summer was bad because Mom refused to turn on the AC.  This is going to be worse, so much worse.  

“Hiccup Haddock, is that you?” A familiar voice greets me and I look up from the bulletin board to see Gobber behind the counter, holding Astrid’s list with his metal hook hand.  

“Gobber?”  I laugh, forgetting at least some of how miserable I am to be here.  My dad looked the same but Gobber looks older, his moustache gray in the middle and blond where it hangs to his chin.  

“Is that a question, laddie?” He laughs, waving me over, and Astrid steps out of the way with an expression like she just bit into a lemon on a dare.  “Stoick said he was picking you up today but I didn’t figure he’d let you out of his sight so soon.”  

“Let?  More like ordered me away before that vein in his forehead finally exploded.”  I shake Gobber’s hand and he pulls me halfway across the counter to thump me on the back with his hook.  “And now you’re bludgeoning me, ouch,” I’m grinning when I get my feet back on the floor, “I see it was a long con to get rid of me.”  

“Don’t think we’d let you off that easy,” he crosses his arms, “expelled, eh?”  

“There it is,” I sigh, and Gobber’s heavy look gives no room for me to try and talk my way out of this judgement.  “In my defense--”

“This should be interesting,” Astrid mumbles under her breath, rolling her eyes and reading a candy wrapper like it’s deeply interesting.  

Maybe it is, to her.  I don’t think they let her off the farm much, maybe she doesn’t know that some food comes pre-killed and pre-packaged for everyone who doesn’t horse wrestle to get their morning pep.  

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad to see you.” He starts stacking items from Astrid’s list on the counter, “a summer of work will do you some good, you look like the wind is going to clean carry you away.”  

“Thanks,” I scoff, swallowing against that all too familiar feeling of fitting in only because I stand out.

It’s different with Gobber though because the reason I’m a token something is different, he’s cutting right to the core of Berk’s problems with me with one swipe of his hook.  And given the lack of diversity in Wyoming personality, candy selection, and everything else, I can just apply his salt to the wound I didn’t think my dad could open back up.  But he’s stubborn and look at this, I’ve been here an hour and gotten through one rousing fight and suddenly, I kind of care what he thinks of me.  

Gobber heads into the back room, humming happily, and given that this is the closest I’m going to get to civilization for a while, it’s probably my best chance to get an SOS out.  Dear Heather, enemy doctrine has reminded me that societally, I’m supposed to want my dad to love me, please send reinforcements.

“Is there cell service anywhere around here?”  I ask Astrid and she looks up pointedly slowly from her absolutely gripping candy wrapper research.  

“We have an amplifier at the ranch but Mr. Haddock keeps it off, usually.”  

“Oh, that’s useful for the underage hostage labor situation he has going on.”  

Her nostrils flare like she’s about to charge me or something and I make sure I’m not wearing my red shirt.

“Ruffnut claims she can check Facebook from the corner by the ice machine,” she points past the two aisles of food and small selection of clothes that look like they were personally plucked by Gobber out of the LL Bean sad grandpa collection.  

“I’ll try that then.”  I take out my phone and slip a pack of gum into my pocket when she isn’t looking, already re-committed to ignoring me. “Don’t worry, not calling the union--”

“You really shouldn’t talk about your dad that way,” she snaps, dropping the candy on the floor and clenching a fist on the counter.  “The rest of us want to be here.  I want to be here.”  

I don’t quite know why, but that makes me think of that horse I noticed on the way over here.  I don’t know why it stood out to me but I think it had something to do with the way it was standing, sulky but still defiant, like it knew it had lost didn’t see any reason to acknowledge it.  Astrid said it didn’t belong and maybe it should take that as a compliment.  

“You do seem deeply happy and fulfilled.”  I head back towards the ice machine, holding my phone over my head and looking for a trace of signal.  It flickers but holds and I open up my messages.  The screen stays blank, unable to load the rest of Heather and my conversation and I’m glad I grabbed the gum, because the secret in my pocket keeps my face blank even as another tether to who I knew I was yesterday wears thinner in the onslaught.  

Hiccup (11:13am): Day 1 in enemy territory, lack of muscle definition has been noticed and noted.  I fear this will make me unattractive to the cows and my cover will be blown Hiccup (11:13am): how’s my mom holding up?

“That’s the last of it and I’ve got the feed on order, someone should be delivering tomorrow,” Gobber hefts a box onto the counter and Astrid pays from her stack of bills.  

“Thanks for doing that research for me, by the way, I hate going cheaper--”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Gobber says almost gently, “Stoick will turn it around, he always does. This time’s no different, you’ll see.”

“Turn what around?”  I check my phone to make sure I stay in signal range even as I try to insert myself back into their cryptic conversation.

“None of your business.” Astrid picks up the box like she’s worried she’ll hit me if she doesn’t have something to occupy her hands.  

“Well, it sounds like it has something to do with the Haddock Ranch, which technically--”

“Are you done irritating whoever you’re texting?”  She gestures at the door with her chin, wordlessly ordering me to open it for her. “Because unlike you, I actually have some work to do.”  

I move slowly and Gobber groans at me, annoyed but nice enough about it that I almost feel bad about the gum in my pocket.  Or maybe I do feel bad, I always feel a little bit bad, but it’s not an exercise in morality as much as impulsivity and reminding myself that no one is watching. A little invisibility is practically armor when Astrid’s glaring at me like that.  

“I thought everyone’s whole point was to put me to work?”  I finally get to the door and lean on it a second too long before pushing it open. The wind fights me and I let it.  

“I don’t know how useful you’ll be,” Astrid gets sick of waiting and shoulders past me, kicking the door fully open with a muddy boot and calling back at Gobber.  “See you later!”  

“Yeah Gobber, I’ll see you,” I wave at him and his unimpressed face reminds me of my mom’s.  

“If you’d like to do that before your own funeral, maybe go a little easy on Astrid.”  

“Right, because she’s going so easy on me.”  I watch her load the box into the backseat of the truck and climb impatiently into the driver’s side, tapping on her watch at me.  

“She’s had a rough few months,” he sighs, “and so has your father.  Maybe lead with a little less…”

“You just gestured to all of me,” I flinch when Astrid honks, and taps her watch again.  “Alright!  I’m coming! Bye Gobber, enjoy my wake, chances of open casket aren’t looking good.”  

“Oh Hiccup,” he sighs as the wind slams the door shut again and I get into the truck.  I’m barely seated let alone buckled in when Astrid pulls out, slamming it into gear and punching the gas.  

“You know, unbuckled passengers become projectiles in accidents.”  

“I’m not going to hit anything.” She sighs and rubs her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt across it, like it somehow sprouts endlessly from her hands. “At least not right now.”  

“That leaves me confident.”

She doesn’t respond to that aside from turning on the radio and going back to her stare straight ahead and glare routine while attempting to humanely lobotomize me with some song about cut offs in a truck in a field in a beer can in the military.  

Halfway up the long driveway to the ranch, I find myself looking for the horse I noticed earlier.  The rest of the herd is still in the field they were last time, but that lone black horse is missing.  Maybe it found somewhere it would rather be and I kind of hope it’s a good omen towards my chances of finding a reliable cell signal.  

But, as with school security system updates, hope doesn’t usually go my way.  

“Shit!”  Astrid yelps, slamming on the brakes as a staggering black blur runs in front of us right at the corner of the fence.  The truck squeals, tires sending a wave of gravel at the twins, who are running after the horse.  Ruffnut flips her off and my dad barks something I can’t quite make out but it gets her running again.  

“I thought you weren’t going to hit anything.”  I goad Astrid, using the physical force of her glare to convince my hands to let go of the seat.  

“Loose horse, don’t just sit there,” she yanks the keys out and runs after everyone, grabbing a rope from a hook on the fence.  

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, but...ok.”  

The horse runs behind the house and I take a few steps towards the other side, more avoiding the action than actively seeking out the horse.  I am curious though, I did recognize it.  It’s limping even as it leads everyone on a scattered chase and I catch a flash of red on its back leg when it dodges around my dad, kicking out at him and stumbling to catch himself.  

Astrid’s probably going to lecture it about disrespect.  

I didn’t grab the gum to chew it, but the dust the chase is kicking up is making my mouth feel dry so I pull out a piece, edging a little closer to the commotion.  

The horse catches my eye and pauses, neck arched, eyes wide enough to see the whites of them even from thirty feet away.  It kicks at Astrid when she tries to grab it with the rope before fixing its attention on me again and staggering to the side.  I can see its hurt leg more clearly now and it makes my own knee twinge sympathetically.  

“Hiccup,” my dad gestures from where he’s standing, arms spread wide to block entrance to the barn.  “Get out of its way.”  

“I thought we were trying to catch it,” I take a step towards it, possessed by the same pull I feel towards knick knacks and unguarded teacher’s keys.  

It blinks at me and nods violent and fast, letting out a shrill sound that’s more scream than anything before running straight at me.  

“Hiccup!”  My dad yells again.  

Maybe my life isn’t flashing before my eyes because I never really had one.  

Or maybe it’s because for some reason I can’t explain, the horse stops three feet ahead of me, nodding again and pawing the ground with one front foot.  Its knee shakes.  My knee shakes.  I hold out my hand and it breathes a gust of warm, damp breath over my palm, nostrils flaring to show vague pink insides.  

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I mutter, clearing my throat when my voice feels lost in it.  “Something already did that.”  

“Hiccup,” Astrid tosses me the rope she’s holding and it hits me in the side.  The horse startles, rearing back on its hind legs and lashing out at her before stumbling, barely catching itself on that quaking back knee.  

“Don’t scare it!”  I step between them, arms held out like I’m the one protecting the raging thousand pound animal.  Maybe I am.  I don’t know.

“Put the rope around its neck,” she orders, which I think is just a base state for her, but I’m not sure what else to do so I listen, picking up the coil with surprisingly steady fingers and examining it.  

“I don’t know how to do this,” I tell the horse, because country music made me go clinically insane this quickly, “this is a lasso, I think, I don’t know.  There’s a loop.”  I glance back at Astrid and she’s scowling at me, giving so much helpful advice.  “I think that’s the part I catch you with. I’m just going to...put it over your head even though you keep trying to kill everyone else here.”  

The horse nods again, chewing with its big, hand crushing teeth, and blowing more air over my hands.  

I have to go onto my toes to get the rope all the way over its ears and I stumble slightly on the gravel. It’s a reflex to reach out and catch myself and I don’t realize what I’ve done until I see my pale hand on its gleaming black shoulder.  

My life doesn’t flash before my eyes.  

The horse stands stock still except for that trembling back leg shaking in time with my heartbeat.  

“Hiccup,” my dad calls again, “let Astrid take him--”

“I’ve got him,” I regrip the rope, taking a step backwards, sure that the horse will follow.  It does, one mincing step on unsure legs.  “There we go, that’s good.”  My left heel drags slightly in the gravel as I take another step back and the horse follows.  

“Take him into the barn,” my dad sounds confused more than anything and he steps out of the way as the horse and I make slow backwards progress.  One of the stalls inside the barn is open but the horse pauses at its entrance, pawing with its front foot again.  

“Come on, bud, you’re close. So close.  I see that knee shaking, I bet you’re tired from making all these people chase you around.”  I reach out and set my hand on its nose and it nods again, grunting deep in its chest between hoarse, distinctly scared breaths, “I’m tired from watching you make these people chase you around.”  

It takes a trembling step over the threshold and the other three feet follow more easily.  

“Take the rope off,” Astrid is watching from the big sliding barn door, eyes sharp and irritated. Curious.  

I think it’s the first time all day I’ve agreed with her.  I’m also curious as to what the fuck just happened.  

“I’m just going to get this off of you,” I loosen the rope and pull it back over his head, “and I’m going to step out of here and close this door.”  

It tries to follow when I step backwards but doesn’t argue when I close the door and slide the brass latch into place.  

“What the hell?”  My dad shakes his head, looking at me like I’m as alien as I feel here.  

I laugh, “watch your language, Dad, impressionable ears are everywhere.”  

“Inside.  Now.”  He points towards the ranch house and I’m too rattled to try and argue with that level of authoritative tone so I listen, knees wobbling as I walk past everyone. I’m not sure how to describe how they’re staring at me, but it’s new.  As new as the urge to turn around and go back into that barn, like something is unfinished.   

#t:rttbposc #horse girl hiccup au #cityslickercup #ranchhand astrid #hiccstrid #modern au #kleptocup my son #gobber my life

[a-lost-crow]

ROTBTD modern au doodles again along with notes in the bottom as usual

Bunny’s ears can turn into hair. He ties it into two seperate pigtails and into one big ponytail

When human!Bunny is going back to his anthropomorphic form, he needs to let the big hair tie go. Sometimes he forgets that part and it hurts a lot during the forming process

Hiccup reads Homestuck. Idk why. But it’s there.

Hiccup is also a descendant of the Hiccup we know now. I think canon!Hiccup will be so confused on why this modern lad just willingly reads Homestuck

So yeah. Dragons are real. But any other magic possibility is real in the AU so dragons are just a normal Tuesday

You go to a petshop and look there’s a dragon

Modern Hiccup can definitely Train a Dragon

Rapunzel once had a 5 month long drama on TikTok which resulted to her deactivating her account

She was on Booktok

Rapunzel would often pass time by improving music with either her guitar or flute

She’s studied music theory enough for her to make a melody on command

Merida has a soft spot for kids

Sometimes she would even teach them how to have better aim

Merida is making fun of Hiccup and Rapunzel for being a horse girl as if she isn’t one herself

The hypocrisy smh

Jack’s just there

He doesn’t ride a horse but he can ride a staff

Jack notes. Since I still have brainrot over him and there has to be a seperate section

Fun fact, Jack one day had a horrible realization that he’s the only friend in the group who is immortal, can’t change much of his physical appearance, and will look like a sore thumb from the 4 when they grow older

He could care less appearance-wise but it’s the thought of what he’s going to do without his friends

His friend group gathered 4 long sleeves, cut and stitch them up, and gave it to Jack just in case he ever felt sad

He didn’t wear it until a week later though

Jack just looks so done from everything. I don’t think I ever let the boy rest do I?

There’s a lake that’s called “Don’t Look” which was named off Jack’s death in the lake. His body is gone now but the lake is still named that because of other incidents happening before and after him. 

It’s just a matter of time where his death became the effect of the name

Jack doesn’t know why he became Jack Frost. Nor ever questioned it to his mother (Tooth)

He just assumed that he was summoned one day

Once he opened that Tooth Box oh boy

This boy has a lot of stuff to uncover

WOO THESE BATCH OF NOTES ARE DONE. THE HYPERFIXATION’S GETTING IN NOW!!!

I’m still considering making fanfic of it. But don’t be surprised if it’s just snippets of things I want to write. I just write whatever I write.

#Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons #Modern au #Jack Frost #Merida #Rapunzel #Hiccup Haddock #e aster bunnymund #rotbtd

[pxmun]

((I just spent the entire day typing up a cute little piece about Wammawink teaching Horse how to make giggle cakes for Brian, when my laptop with no warning or notice disconnects me from the internet and starts a reboot I didn’t schedule for. I noticed the internet acting up earlier and copied my work, but the reboot erased the copy. So, for only this one time I will just type a short summary. Thank you so very much for your guys support on this Centaurworld AU and I deeply apologize for this hiccup.  =) ))

Horse has managed to get through her first night with Brian, thanks to Rider who volunteered to look after Brian for the first half of the night before waking up Horse for the second half. Rider was going to be sneaky and just let Horse sleep in, but Wammawink ask Rider that she wants to see Horse for something. Rider wakes up Horse and tells her about Wammawink. Rider volunteers to look after Brian until Horse gets back, which Horse is very thankful for.

Horse meets up with Wammawink who official welcomes Horse into the parent’s club, which only just recently been established once Durpleton became Stabby’s dadleton. Now that Horse is a mom, Wammawink is going to teach her how to make giggle cakes. Horse is surprised and excited to learn the secret of making giggle cakes. Horse is shocked when Wammawink reveals that all it takes for the giggle cakes is love and magic. Horse doesn’t think making a giggle cake will be too hard, but it proves to be much more difficult than originally thought as Horse’s attempts just end up in her shooting tiny versions of herself from her hooves. To help Horse, Wammawink sings a song about just letting the love flow and think about the joy they could bring to the herd. Through Wammawink’s song Horse is able to conjure up a giggle cake, Horse of course is elated, but once her and Wammawink take a single bite out of it they discovered that it tastes horrible. Horse is confused as to why her giggle cake taste so awful, but Wammawink realizes why. Because Horse hasn’t had much time to build a bond with Brian yet. Horse feels like she failed, but Wammawink assures Horse that she hasn’t, and that love takes time, commitment and hard work. Horse feels better and really appreciates Wammawink’s insight. The two hug.

Suddenly, Zulius comes running at the two screaming for them to get back to Waterbaby’s houseboat. Zulius doesn’t explain why and dashes off back to the boat with Horse and Wammawink in hot pursuit. The two are worried that something bad has happened.

Once they reach the boat, Horse is relieved to see that everyone is safe and sound. Rider waves her down and as Horse is approaching Rider she sees the herd watching Brian, who is trying to take his first steps. Horse immediately cheers on Brian and is soon joined in by the rest of the herd. The little elktaur fawn stumbles over himself at first, but with shaky legs he slowly but surely makes his way to Horse. He reaches her open forelegs and Horse along with the rest of the herd cheer.

The cheering is enough to get Ched and Gary’s egg to hatch. A fluffy little girl finchtaur emerges. Ched is over the moon and crying. He names his daughter Tulip.

The herd celebrate both Tulip’s birth and Brians’s first steps.

Sometime during the party, Waterbaby heads off in search for the Mystery Woman. She wants to get some answers revolving around Brian.

#centaurworld spoilers #centaurworld au #centaurworld #wammawink #giggle cakes #centaurworld ched #centaurworld horse #elktaur #nowhere king #finchtaur #au

[jjmjjktth]

Intro: The Question

If one were to look into the window of the Dupain-Cheng family home on this very evening, they would witness an odd sight. No one was home. Typically on a Friday evening the scene would be of a daughter and father furiously battling in a game of riddles or sitting at the kitchen counter to accompany a mother as she made dinner for the family of three. However, the typical laughter and joy that usually resided in the floors above the bakery was eerily silent.

Across the city of Paris, in a greenhouse filled with strange ruins carved along the walls, A girl (she looks about 13) cries out in anguish. Alone. Alone. Alone is all she could think. She was now the last of her family line, she had to cry but not without protection. She could not fail the city she had sworn to protect, she would not let her emotions manifest into a physical form and reign terror on her city; so she had pulled out the horse miraculous and teleported to her sanctuary. The ruins would keep the amoks away.

Fluttering a few feet away, two fairy (or maybe sprite) like creatures and about a hundred butterflys watched over the girl. Humming in silence support for their friend. Only coming closer when given permission, startling a traumatized blind girl would just make things worse. That’s when the question came, the question that broke the little fairy’s pure heart.

“Nooroo?” The girl's shaking words only made her despair even more evident.

“Yes, miss Marinette?“ Nooroo responded with a soothing voice. Marinette hiccuped. With a timid voice the teen asked,

“What did my parents look like?“

Master List - Next

Hey y’all!!!! This is the intro to my blind butterfly marinette fanfiction I took some of my inspiration from the lady fairy AU However I do not know what to name this fic so please send me an ask or comment with some ideas. Also this is going to be a salt fic so I also don’t know if I want to make this Maribat or felinette so please vote on that as well however I’ve got some time.

Love y’all, jjmjjktth

PS finally decided to post this now that I have time since I got Covid please send help

PPS this is my first fan fiction so pls criticize me but be nice plz

#marinette dupain cheng #nooroo #maribat #felinette #class salt #adrien salt #chloe redemption #blind!marinette #lady fairy AU #butterfly!marinette

[writhingcreature]

I LOVE the idea of jock/nerd Mericcup and cheerleader/jock Rapunstrid, do you have any more headcanons for that au?

I tried writing this and got distracted and now O have to start from the beginning so... let’s try this again

- Hiccup keeps trying to ask Merida out but his awkwardness and self Doubt keep tying his tongue and hands and feet and he fails again and again. Merida knows what he’s trying to say but she wants to give him the chance to do it since she knows it might hurt his pride if she asks him. Eventually she does anyway though and Hiccup is so relieved he’s been put out of his misery he kisses her right then and there and everyone’s like OoO

- Hiccup and Astrid are neighbors and they grew up right next door to each other. Like, saw each other through the window and climbed onto each other’s roofs and such. They did that thing where they opened their windows and just... talked if they were too lazy to climb up onto the roof. So they’re like actually really close friends. As kids Astrid always found Hiccup annoying and it was like “your mom is friend with my mom” but eventually he started tutoring her and she thought she was doing fine at school but suddenly she was acing everything and it all made sense and after that she thought Hiccup was cool

- Merida and Rapunzel live quite a bit from each other but Merida skateboards and Rapunzel goes on morning bike rides and walks and jogs and skates (on rollerblades) and really ANYTHING that gets her out in the morning. They end up meeting when Merida falls off her skateboard and busting her knee - Rapunzel took care of it with the med kit she always takes with her everywhere. After that they were best friends and upon hitting middle school, joined sports together to figure out what they liked. Rapunzel was good at cheerleading, being very petite and acrobatic, and Merida was better at the classic sports (soccer, hockey, baseball, football, etc.). They do figure skating together. When Merida had to fight to be on the guys’ team, or just. Create a girls’ sports team, Rapunzel was there to support her every step of the way.

- Astrid and Merida are on a team together. Astrid does either hockey or soccer (or maybe both Idk which seasons they are but it feels like they’d be in different ones) but eventually Merida talks her into joining every one that Merida is in too. They get each other SO much and eventually develop like a secret language. No one knows if that’s true for sure, but these two girls can communicate without moving their body or saying a single word and it’s so effortless and perfect a system that people thought they were dating for the longest time. When someone finally brought it up (it was Snotlout) the two laughed so hard and so long that he blushed, and they NEVER let him live it down. It was just so absurd to them....

- Astrid and Rapunzel actually happened pretty fast. Everyone thought Astrid would take charge, and normally she does. She’s confident and sure of herself and has fingers in SO many pies, and she doesn’t ever shrink from any competition. Everything seems very easy for her and she never falters off fumbles... that is until she tries to talk to Rapunzel. Because Astrid can affectionately bulky Hiccup and Merida already gets her so well that she doesn’t have to try to communicate with her. But Rapunzel is... her opposite in a lot of ways. She’s small and soft spoken and artistic. Her mind is creative and her hands are gentle and her eyes are huge and her smile is warm. Rapunzel is this golden stream in a fairytale and Astrid is.... probably a rock. Of some kind. Anyway, the point is Rapunzel approaches her with that pretty smile and those large eyes and very clearly asks her out and Astrid’s lucky that Merida’s there to say yes for her because her mouth forgets how to move

- Rapunzel cheers SO LOUD for Astrid every game, and they start to sit on the bench together if there’s any free time. During the half time show, Astrid cheers just as loud for Rapunzel and the phrase “THATS MY GIRLFRIEND” gets thrown around a. Lot. They get super competitive all the time and end up having so much fun. Rapunzel is a bit of a softie and let Astrid win a lot in the beginning until Astrid called her out and called her a loser (affectionate) and from then it was ON. No one thought anyone could beat Astrid at anything until Rapunzel came around.

- Hiccup tries to follow what’s happening in the games but he often gets really distracted and confused and ends up analyzing the plays and bombarding everyone with questions afterward. Astrid and Merida eventually directed him to Rapunzel, who actually listened to him and realized how genius his ideas and observations were. They started to talk with the coach about ways to make the team better, and Hiccup eventually starts to just. Help the coaches in general and no one even asks anymore.

- Hiccup has a cat named Toothless and he and Rapunzel are the BEST of friends. Astrid didn’t like him at first but softened upon seeing Rapunzel and Hiccup be so adorable with the little creature. Toothless HATED Merida for the longest time no matter what she tried and it made everyone laugh constantly. Eventually the little thing warmed up to her but for a while there Merida stayed by Astrid “where it’s safe” as she said.

- Rapunzel also has a pet chameleon and she DOTES on that thing. She knows everything about them and anytime anyone asks about Pascal she just wants and rants and rants about fun facts. It’s the only time Astrid will without complaint Listen to someone just talk facts and knowledge. Astrid usually finds it so boring but Rapunzel is so adorable when she goes off about this thing she’s so passionate about that Astrid doesn’t even mind.

- After watching Hiccup with Toothless for a while, Astrid gets her own cat named Stormfly and they are a DYNAMIC duo. Stormfly is almost as well trained as Toothless a lot sooner, and they just have this very clear understanding. Stormfly doesn’t hate Merida, so the red head prefers this cat, and Toothless often glares at her for hours for it. Rapunzel and Stormfly take to each other even faster than Rapunzel and Toothless did. Rapunzel smells like Astrid and Stormfly is HERE for it

- Rapunzel and Merida take riding lessons on the weekends. It was something they looked into when they were really young and when they finally convinced their parents to let them it was the single best thing to ever happen to either of them. Riding Maxmimus and Angus are the best parts of their week in most cases (unless something special happens) and the horses are considered as much their pets as the cats or chameleon. They end up buying them after they get out of college and securing a house for all four of them with a big enough back yard to keep the horses in. It’s a good time.

- Hiccup works as a mechanic, fixing mostly cars but also small stuff like bikes and the such in his free time. Toothless came to him missing a leg, so Hiccup comes up with a lot of really clever contraptions and systems to help Toothless move around the house without Hiccup’s help. He still prefers to be lifted into bed, but anywhere else is free game.

- Rapunzel gets a job at first at a diner, where she spends her highschool and college career working her butt off. It wasn’t the best experience but it achieved the goals Rapunzel needed to so she could go to college and become an art teacher instead. It wasn’t the best paying job, but it allowed her to show others why she valued painting so much, and left plenty time in the year to also go traveling if she wished. She’s very good at saving money so she makes it work.

- Astrid works a lot of fast food at first and even takes a stint at the diner with Rapunzel, but her short temper ends up getting her into a lot of situations where she hates her job and ends up leaving after six to eight months. Nowhere was very good for her until she finally got a job at a gym where she ended up learning a lot of really fun skills like self defense and axe throwing. She did it for so many years and got so good that she was hired on as the instructor, and she’s never been happier than in a position where if a man pushes the limits or a Karen tries her patience, all she has to do is sink an axe into a target and turn to them with a raised eyebrow and ask, “What was that again?” It works every time and unless someone has an actual problem they don’t bother her.

- Merida struggles with work. She gets every job under the sun, taking stints at the diner with Rapunzel and the mechanic’s shop with Hiccup and even eventually at the gym and fun enter with Astrid. She gets bored very easily and doesn’t keep a job more than like four or fives months at Max. Ever. She doesn’t think she’s good at anything and might have peaked in high school... until she discovers archery. In an attempt to help her out, Astrid pitches to the fun center to add archery as an activity, and Merida begins to come to it. Unfortunately they can’t really find a teacher who knows what they’re doing and Merida is the only one who shows up so for a while it’s threatening to shut down. But then Merida teaches herself via the internet and insane amounts of practice, and tries out for the job. They give her the position, but tell her that without customers it’s still going to go down.

- the four gather ALL of their friends and begin mass sharing any and all information they can get out there about the fun center and Merida’s growing skills and how helpful she’ll be as the teacher. They just spread the news and encourage people to at least try it out. Through sheer force of Will and hard work, they get enough people with interests peaked who end up coming. Merida’s classes are full of all kinds of people of all kinds of ages, and she loves it.

- none of them get paid a LOT, but Rapunzel and Hiccup are very good at saving money and slowly, Astrid learns as well and between the three of them they can get things figured out even if Merida doesn’t want to waste energy on budgeting and planning everything out and such. When the fun center is out for winter time, and school is out for Summer, they start taking temporary jobs that pay a lot more money. These jobs end up being labor intensive, but they always try and work together and combined, they can find the fun in even the most annoying jobs. Sometimes Hiccup will join them if he’s having a slow time at work, but he never lasts long and the girls tease him a lot about it.

- Yes the hall live together and yes they have “family nights” where they all go out and do something fun once every month, and they eat dinner and breakfast together as much as they can and they’re all very close and mean a lot to each other god I love them.

There are obviously a ton of other characters in this little world I’ve built so if you have any questions feel free to ask!

#Rapunzel #merida dunbroch #astrid hofferson #mericcup #Merida x hiccup #Hiccup x Merida #Rapunstrid #Rapunzel x Astrid #Astrid x Rapunzel #hiccup haddock #httyd #Brave #tangled #Disney #dreamworks #headcanons #how to train your dragon

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 23

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: There's Chekhov's gun and then there's Ernesto's poison.  You know the rule.

Art is by @lunaescribe​ and @swanpit​!

***

“This way, all of you, don’t make noise.”

“But Sister Antonia, these are your quarters--”

“And you’ll stay here until you’re told otherwise, chicos. Make no noise. We’ll bring you food here until they’re gone.”

“But the girls…?”

“They wouldn’t take them for their ranks. God willing, they’ll leave them be. We’ll keep them safe, too. Now you stay here, all right?”

A few terrified, wide-eyed glances from the boys. No reply. 

“Am I clear?”

“S-sí.”

“Can we pray, Sister?”

“... Quietly,” Sister Antonia said, her voice tight in the way one’s voice gets when it’s so close to breaking up, and she closed the door, turning the key in the lock. When she turned to grab the bookcase and drag it across the floor, Imelda stepped in to help her push it. It left deep scratches on the wooden boards, but no matter. They would cover that with a rug. 

“Is Miguel still missing?” Imelda asked, her voice as firm as she could make it. Antonia lowered her gaze with a nod. 

“He’s the only one who didn’t come back. None of the boys has seen him since they went out to play hide and seek.”

Imelda bit her lower lip hard enough to almost break the skin. “Nor Óscar, have they?” she forced herself to ask, and the slow nod felt like a blow. Where was he? Where had they both gone? Could it be that they had both made it to her parents’ home, that Miguel had followed Óscar there? Maybe he had, maybe they were both safe. 

God, please.

“I’m sorry, Imelda,” Antonia’s voice reached her as though from a mile away, and she scowled. Anger came easier than despair, and it was more than welcome. No point in fearing the worst behind the safety of those walls.

“They may very well be safe and sound,” she snapped, and marched to the door. “I will go out looking. If they ask, I’m looking for some of our girls. Make sure they’re all in - if anyone asks, this is a girls-only institution.”

“... Do you know where Sofía is?” Antonia spoke up, fear now showing in her voice, and it made Imelda pause. As much as she rolled her eyes at their antics, poorly hidden behind hastily closed doors and too thin walls, Imelda knew they cared deeply about one another. 

“She’s taking care of something important. She will be here soon. Don’t worry,” she added, and smiled in the attempt to convey a sense of calm she did not feel. “She can handle herself just fine.”

Antonia’s own lips curled in a weak smile. “I won’t tell her you admitted that. Be careful out there. I really do want to see the gringo’s face when Padre Ernesto officiates your wedding.”

Imelda, who rather liked the idea of her wedding actually being both legal and valid in the eyes of God, knew they would probably have to settle for the gringo to officiate it, but that was not the moment to voice that thought. Except that, as she stepped out and ran towards the plaza, she quickly found out that perhaps the gringo would be in no position to officiate anything anymore, either. 

“What…?” Imelda stopped in her tracks, stunned at the sight of several men quickly carrying a body towards the church on a sheet, dark blood a stark contrast to the man’s pale skin and fair hair. He looked-- was he-- dead?

If they go around shooting priests, none of us is safe.

There was no love lost between her and Father John Johnson, and yet there was a stab of something in her stomach at the idea he may be dead. He had been trying to help, after all. He had left the relative safety of the parish to help its people.

Maybe he just said something stupid. He does it a lot. Only this time they were armed.

“Go call doctor Sachéz,” Imelda heard someone saying as they passed her by, but before she could even voice her question - would the doctor be of any use, was he even still alive? - someone else called out her own name. 

“Imelda!”

Ceci’s voice caused her to tear her gaze off the gringo who was perhaps an ex gringo. She was running up to her, hair dishevelled in a way Imelda had never seen it - she had always been dignified, even when they were young girls.

But today was not a normal day. 

“They have Miguel,” Ceci panted, grabbing her shoulders. “And Óscar.”

No. No. No.

For a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to spin around her. It was as though sunlight itself faded for a moment, distant screams muffled, leaving the world empty and dark. Imelda’s knees may have buckled, they almost did, but she couldn’t allow herself to collapse.

“Their commander is loco,” Ceci was saying, eyes wide. “He just kept screaming about a deserter, one de la Cruz, and the more we swore none of us knew him the more he lost it. And when Padre Juan stepped in-- Imelda! Wait! Come back!”

Imelda didn’t listen: she just tore away from her grasp and ran, towards the plaza, towards the cries. 

They had her brother. They had her charge.  She had to go to them.

Whenever she thought about that nightmare scenario, Imelda was so certain of what she’d do: get the pistol she had taken from Ernesto, and use it the second it was necessary. But now that it was happening, she knew that taking out the gun would mean signing her death warrant, and that of God knew how many others in the village. A lone woman with a pistol - she would be killed quickly, and retribution on everyone else would be swift. She would be of no use to anyone dead. 

Maybe Ernesto had been right, after all. What involvement she’d had had been from the sidelines. She knew nothing of war; Santa Cecilia knew nothing of war. 

But war had come to them, and it was a matter of learning fast or dying. 

He just kept screaming about a deserter.

There is no mercy in war, Ernesto had said.

He’s one of our own now. I can’t give him away. 

They have Óscar.

I promised we would protect him.

They have Miguel. 

We protect our own.

He lied to us. 

There must be something we can do. Anything. 

As she ran as fast as her robes allowed her, blood rushing in her ears and thoughts going in circles, Imelda could only pray that Ernesto would stay at the González farm, unaware, for as long as possible. 

If he returned too early and they found out he was there, and that they hadn’t handed him over, it would spell disaster for all of them.

***

“Miguel!”

Héctor’s scream was loud enough to hurt his throat, and it was still lost under the echo of the gunshot, under the wordless cries of the people of Santa Cecilia trying to back away, the shouts of those calling out for doctor Sanchéz and the stunned cries of ‘he shot him, he shot a man of God ! ’ coming even from the Federales themselves. 

It was lost beneath all the confusion, and Miguel’s screams. 

“No! What have you done! What have you done!”

“Be still-- be still, brat! Don’t try my patience, there is a bullet for you too if you won’t--!”

“Let me go!”

“I am warning you!”

“Murderer! Let me g--!”

“Wait! Por favor!”

This time, Héctor’s cry was loud enough to be heard. That, and it’s rather hard not to notice someone in a priestly robe throwing himself in front of your horse, gripping the reins and looking up at you with a look of pure anguish on his face. 

The commander seemed startled, pistol still in mid-air, and he let his gaze shift from Héctor to the motionless priest bleeding out on the cobblestones, a few men already trying to press on the wound to stop the blood loss, calling for help to take him to the doctor. Héctor didn’t look down, didn’t focus on the fact he had just witnessed a man being shot down, didn’t even think he was putting himself in danger of being next. 

All he knew was that the man had Miguel, and he couldn’t have him.  

He opened his mouth to plead, but the commander’s eyes were back on him and he spoke up before he could. In his grasp Miguel was shaking, eyes full of tears and skin ashen.

“Are all priests in this village eager to become martyrs? Let go of the reins now, or--”

“I’ll join you,” Héctor blurted out, holding tighter onto the reins. “I beg of you to let him go. I’ll take his place.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline; Miguel, on the other hand, let out a gasp.

“Héctor, no--!” he choked out, only to trail off when the man gave him a shake. 

“You know him?”

“He is a warden of the Church. I--”

“Well, go back to the Church. We don’t take in priests.”

“I am a novice, not a priest,” Héctor spoke quickly, and fell on his knees. Blood soaked through the robe, warm and wet, while somewhere behind him Father John was taken away on a sheet. Federales allowed it, most of them probably still stunned at the notion their commander had just shot a priest; many held no more love for the Church than Huerta himself did, but fear of God’s punishment was too ingrained in their hearts since childhood not to hold some weight. “I have taken no vows-- none. I can join the army. I’ll do it right now. I’ll do anything you ask.”

There was a hiccupping sob, tears spilling down Miguel’s cheeks. He was always such a lively boy, so smart, always up to something - but now he only looked like the scared child he was. Héctor desperately wanted to comfort him, but he dared not tear his gaze from that of the commander, whose harsh expression had softened even so slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was… calmer. 

“You seem to care about this muchacho an awful lot.”

“He’s like a son to me,” Héctor said, and he realized the truth of it only as it left his lips. Miguel let out another sob, trying to wipe his eyes. 

“Héctor…” he managed, and Héctor finally dared smile at the boy. A shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“It will be all right, chamaco, I promise,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it, and looked back at the soldier, who stared back a few moments… and finally lowered the pistol, putting it back in the holster. 

“What is your name?”

“Héctor, señor.”

“Héctor and what else?”

“Just Héctor. I-- I have no family.”

“Can you hold a gun?”

“Sí.”

“Shoot?”

“I-- only tried a few times. But I will learn.”

“Mph. I guess it’s something. We can’t be picky these days.”

“You won’t regret it. I swear.”

The man sighed. Much later on, Héctor would wonder if the look he gave him that moment truly was somewhat apologetic, or if it had just been his imagination. To his last day, he would never be entirely sure. “... Very well, Just Héctor. I am Commander Hernández. Welcome to the Federal Army,” he said, and let go of Miguel. The boy jumped off the horse and was in Héctor’s arms the next moment, crying hard, face pressed against his shoulder. 

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,” he sobbed, holding on tight. “You’ve got to get married-- I’m sorry I was so mad at you-- please don’t go--”

I’m sorry, Imelda.

“It will be all right,” Héctor managed, trying to sound as optimistic as he could. “I’ll be back once this is over and I’ll have plenty of stories to tell.”

Miguel sniffled, still holding on tight. “Promise,” he choked out. 

“I swear.”

Another shuddering breath. “Did you-- do you really--?”

“All right, all right, enough. Just looking at you makes my teeth rot.”

Gustavo’s voice rang out suddenly, and Miguel was torn from Héctor’s arms before he could react. He tried to protest, to break free, but Gustavo had already pushed him back towards Chicharrón, who trapped him in a steely grip the boy had no chance of escaping - Héctor would know, he had been on the receiving end of that a few times before. 

As the old gravedigger began pulling Miguel away despite his protests, and Héctor stood - so much blood on the cobblestones, surely the gringo was dead - Commander Hernández gave Gustavo a somewhat weary glance. “And you are…?”

“Gustavo Torres, señor. I wish to join your ranks,” Gustavo said, making a dismissive gesture towards the plaza behind him. “I’ve had enough of this place. I am a good shooter, too,” he added. Héctor knew that was an absolute lie: Gustavo couldn't even hit his own foot with any type of firearm. What the hell was he going on about - and why join the Federales? He was a pendejo, that much was no mystery, but since well did he support Huerta? What was going on?

Commander Hernández tilted his head, seemingly taken aback of for entirely different reasons. It probably wasn’t often anyone volunteered to join. “... Well then. If you’re willing to join, I see no reason to deny you.”

“Uh, Commander…” a soldier approached them, looking a little shaken up. Either he was new to all this, or he found his commander had gone a step too far in shooting a man of God in cold blood - gringo or not. He gestured towards a group of people behind him, separated from the rest of the plaza; all men of varying ages… and, to Héctor’s horror, among them there was a boy. Óscar. “We have the thirty men you ask--.”

“No you don’t,” Gustavo muttered. “What you have is twenty-eight men and a half,” a pointed look in Héctor’s direction, “plus a child. The muchacho with glasses over there? Those two bottle ends on his face are not enough to make him usable with a gun. He couldn’t tell his sister from a donkey. I mean, sometimes no one can,” he added, making Héctor want more than anything to wrap his hands around his neck, thumbs on the throat, and squeeze.

But he could see what he was trying to do, so he held his tongue and his hands. Just barely.

Commander Hernández raised an eyebrow. “If this is an attempt at taking the boy’s place, it is rather transparent,” he said, and Gustavo shrugged. 

“Then I can replace anyone else,” he replied. Either he did an excellent job at sounding like he didn’t give a damn either way, or he really didn’t give a damn either way. “Or you leave with thirty-one men. It just seems fair to warn you that the boy’s eyesight is awful and he’d make a poor soldier.”

Commander Hernández turned back to look directly at Óscar, who pressed himself against the wall under his gaze as though trying to make himself feel smaller, all skinny limbs and huge glasses. In the end, the man shrugged. “Mmh. Those glasses do seem awfully thick, and you do look like you’d make a better soldier,” he said, and he gestured for the closest soldier to let him go. Cries of mercy for others rose up from sisters, wives, parents - but none was heeded. There would be no more mercy that day. 

As he watched in relief Óscar being pushed away from the lineup, eyes wide and bewildered, Héctor only vaguely heard the commander’s orders for his men to give the new recruit uniforms, get supplies and fresh horses from the village, and be ready to leave within the hour. He let out a long breath and turned to Gustavo. 

“Gracias,” he murmured, only to get an annoyed look in return. 

“Don’t thank me. If we survive this, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Let me guess. This is all my fault?”

“Of course it is. It’s always your fault, somehow,” Gustavo grunted, glaring at the ground while they walked to get their uniforms. “We can only hope the puta is going to follow my instructions and get us help.”

A thought crossed Héctor’s mind, unexpected and blinding as the flare of a match in a darkened room. He found himself blinking, taken aback. He had no clue who the puta may be, but the rest was… revealing. “Those messages-- the instructions-- was it y ouch! ”

“Scream it for everyone to hear, why don’t you!” Gustavo hissed, falling back into step after stomping on Héctor’s foot. It caused him to walk a bit awkwardly, but he didn’t protest or say anything more. Only after a folded uniform was pushed into his arms - obviously used, ill-fitting and with specks on it that looked a lot like dried blood - did Héctor dare turn, heart heavy in his chest, hoping to get at least one last glimpse of Imelda before he left. 

And, for the second time that day, he got his wish. Imelda stood at the front of the crowd, holding onto Óscar. He was already taller than she was, but she cradled his head the way she did when she was a girl and he was just a young child. Miguel was there, too, having somehow escaped Cheech’s grasp. He was holding onto her robe but, unlike Óscar, he was looking towards him. Both him and Imelda were, his face tear-soaked and blotchy and hers terribly grave, and terribly pale. 

I’m sorry, he ached to tell them both. Stay safe. I love you. I’ll be back soon.

But they were too far away, and he could only hope his glance would be enough to tell them that. He could only hope they knew. 

When I return, Héctor thought, refusing to contemplate any other scenario, to add any ifs to that. He’d be back, whatever it took. When I return and we marry, Miguel will stay with us. 

Only then, with that thought in mind, Héctor was able to give them a weak smile.

***

Had it not been for her brother holding onto her like he hadn’t in years, or for Miguel clinging to her robe while shaking with hiccuping sobs, Imelda may have ran forward. She may have pushed through, to the commander, and screamed to him that she knew where to find the deserter he wanted - that he could have him, if he released everyone else.

One man’s life against thirty. Thirty men, including the one she loved, that could be released in exchange for one. 

I could save him. I could save them all, here and now. 

Later on she would not be proud of what she came so close to doing, but neither would she be ashamed. She had promised Ernesto she would protect him from the Federal Army if it came to it, and she had meant it; if it came to taking a bullet to keep that promise, she’d have taken the bullet. But letting other people do the same… that was where she balked. 

As much as it tore at her heart, she knew Héctor had made his choice. He must have known that giving Ernesto away would save him and Miguel both, but he had decided to take Miguel’s place and keep Ernesto safe instead.  The others, though, had no choice at all. Twenty-nine men who knew nothing of Ernesto’s deceit and could not make their own decision as to whether he should be protected with their lives or not.

There were young husbands, young fathers, family men who may never return home, leaving widows and orphans and lonely parents. Who were they to make that choice for all of them? Who was she to do it?

We protect our own. 

He is one of ours, too. 

One life. One life against thirty. 

Héctor may never forgive me.

He can hate me, if it means he’ll be alive to do it. 

Imelda watched, her head wrapped in silence, as Héctor took a uniform and finally, for the first time, looked back. Their gazes met, the coldness in the pit of Imelda’s stomach turned to ache, and the idiota did the unthinkable. He had the galls to smile at her, and somehow it was the most heartbreaking thing she ever had to endure - seeing that smile, and knowing it may be the last time she did.

No. No, she couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let that smile be taken away from the world a day too soon than it had to, no matter if she would never again see it directed at her. She would live with it. They both would.

With a long breath, Imelda made peace with the fact she may never be able to sleep well again as long as she lived, and gently pushed Óscar away. “Go home,” she told him, stroking his cheek, and went to step forward and go speak with the commander. 

Only to stop as Miguel’s grip on her robe tightened and he pulled her back, looking up at her with a tear-streaked face. “Don’t do it,” he choked out, and Imelda’s blood ran cold. It was as though the child had read her intentions on her face, plain as day. “I promised him he’d be safe here. I promised.”

Oh, my little one. It was too much responsibility to put on you. 

Imelda swallowed, unable to speak for a few moments. “Miguel…” she managed, her voice barely audible, most of it stuck somewhere in her throat. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Sometimes we need to make-- choices we’d never want to make.”

“I don’t want to choose,” Miguel pleaded, still holding on with both hands. “I don’t want either of them to die. He-- he’s loco, you didn’t see how he shot Padre J-Juan, he… he really hates Ernesto, I don’t know why, we can’t let him have him…!”

She sighed, and crouched down, wiping his face with a sleeve. “Miguel, listen to me--”

“No. You listen before you do something I assure you you’d regret.” 

Sofía spoke suddenly before Imelda could say anything more, crouching next to her as though to comfort Miguel as well. “First of all, lower your voice, Jesus Christ. Second, don’t do anything. We can kick Ernesto around for putting us into this mess later, and I’ll be first in line, but no need to see him hang.”

“None of those men has ever been in a battle. If they take them--”

“We’ll take them back.” Sofía pushed something into her hand, a folded piece of paper. “We will have reinforcements.”

“What…” Imelda read the brief message, taken aback. Then she read it again, and again, and again; the handwriting itself struck her as much as the content itself. “Wait… this is…?”

“Same handwriting as the instructions you’ve been getting, yes. It was Gustavo all along.”

Somehow, Imelda may have been less surprised to be told that the Pope himself had been behind the entire thing. Gustavo, of all people? Someone who never cared about anyone other than himself?

Except that he took Óscar’s place just now. I owe him. Oh God, he made me owe him. He will never shut up about it, will he?

“It-- what?” was all Imelda managed to say in the end, stunned. But it made sense, suddenly - how José and his men had known their bell needed repair, and why they had come running to fix it after Ernesto’s unsuccessful attempt, once Gustavo took it upon himself to find a solution. She knew there was something behind it, but she had no idea what. Now she knew.

The bell had always been their means to call for help.

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death knell and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

“Wait, what… what did Gustavo do?” Miguel was asking, confusion overriding his anguish. Sofía smiled, and pulled him close. 

“Don’t worry, niño. We’ll fix everything,” she said, brushing back his hair. She smiled, but even her smile was wrong, sharp, teeth ground tightly. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Imelda stood slowly, slipping the note in her sleeve, and glanced up. Now all she could see were people huddled together mourning their losses, while soldiers took all that was not nailed down in the small weekly market. The men the Federales had chosen to join their ranks were gone, Héctor with them, without so much a last word between them.

No matter. This is not the end. We’ll bring them back. By any means necessary. 

“... Let’s take Miguel back to safety, and be ready to ring the bell once they’re gone.”

“And what do you plan on doing?”

“There is something in my room I need to retrieve, and a horse I need to borrow,” Imelda said, very quietly, as they began walking away from the plaza. Sofía still held onto the hand of a very confused Miguel; she knew she was referring to the pistol, she had to know what she meant to do, but she didn’t say as much aloud or try to talk her out of it.

“Of course,” was all she said. "Be careful.”

“What’s happening?” Miguel asked, his voice small. Desperately wanting to be hopeful, but terrified of seeing that hope shattered. “How… can you really fix this?”

“... I’ll do my damndest,” Imelda replied, getting a somewhat shaky laugh from Sofía.

“If the gringo heard you, he’d have a heart attack.”

“Oh!” Miguel seemed to recoil. “Padre Juan! Is he-- did they get him help?”

“Huh?” Sofía looked down, taken aback. “What happened to the gringo?”

“He was shot.” Miguel swallowed, and tugged at her sleeve. “He was trying to save me and… and… can we go to doctor Sanchéz first? Por favor-- just to see if he’s… if…”

His voice faded, and Sofía looked over at Imelda with a bitter smile. “First one points a gun at me, then they shoot a priest. Our robes aren’t much of an armor anymore,” she said, and turned back to Miguel. “... I’ll send one of the sisters to see him as soon as you’re safe with the others, and let you know how he’s getting on. I promise.”

Miguel protested, but not too much. He was exhausted, still in shock for everything he had gone through in the span of little over an hour, and all things considered it was testament to his resilience that he was not curled into a ball and screaming. 

He let Sofía lead him back to the orphanage, and Imelda watched them disappear with a long sigh. He was safe now. He could rest. Her own work, however, had only just begun. 

Imelda gave another quick glance behind her, towards the plaza, before she headed back to her room, where a pistol lay hidden beneath a floorboard, waiting to be loaded. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to it; she had hoped the Federales would spare their village until the end of that war. But there they were, and there she was. 

It was time to see if the hours spent learning to load and aim had been worth something.

***

All right, so maybe the painfully slow trip to the González farm had been worth it, after all. 

Ernesto was almost entirely sure his half-assed blessing had precisely nothing to do with the young bull suddenly realizing what went where and enthusiastically getting to work - too enthusiastically, he had definitely seen more bull than he ever needed to see in his life - but he had to admit, the timing had been nothing short of amazing. 

The look on old Manuel’s face had been a sight to behold, and the fresh eggs he had gifted him immediately afterwards were a nice plus. He’d probably been moments away from falling on his knees and declaring him a true miracle worker, which would have been flattering but also rather awkward, right next to a bull and a cow getting down to business.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to tell Juan his blessing had worked, after all. Maybe he’d suggest Manuel González to name any resulting male calf Ernesto and a female Juanita, just to be spiteful. That would teach him. 

Ernesto was snickering to himself at the idea when suddenly, on the other side of the hill, the bell of Santa Cecilia’s church began tolling - slowly, with long gaps between strikes. It was enough to make the smile fade from his face, heart dropping somewhere in his stomach as always whenever he heard that sound. A death knell. 

What happened? Who died? I was away only hours, what did they do?

It may be nothing, of course; one of the old parishioners may have kicked it, a sad but not really unusual occurrence. With some luck, it may be the insufferable gravedigger. Maybe the sexton had finally fallen off the stairs and broken his stupid neck.

But that couldn’t be it. The death knell would only ring out during a funeral, or… or maybe the damn Pope had died, didn’t all churches do that if news came that the Pope croaked? He was almost sure they did. Or maybe someone had just climbed on top of the belltower to fuck with the bell for no reason. 

I was only gone for a few hours. What can possibly happen in a few hours?

Anything, was the answer. He’d learned the hard way that anything can do wrong in a few hours. Everything can go to shit in less than a few hours, and something in his gut told him that was exactly what had happened. Trying to keep a sudden wave of panic at bay, Ernesto spurred the stupid donkey to go faster until he reached the top of the hill, and looked down.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe; it was as though something had taken hold of his lungs, and squeezed all air out of him. From way up there in the distance, nothing about Santa Cecilia looked amiss - but it was not the village itself he stared at. What made his blood run cold was the column of men on horses and carts further west, leaving it behind. Federales.

They’re leaving, Ernesto thought, hands shaking on the reins. It’s all right, he told himself, but it was a lie and he knew it. The Federal Army never left anything behind if not devastation, and the bell kept going on and on and on, the continuous death knell making him want to scream. He could taste bile, stomach clenching.

Dead, dead, dead.

There it was again before his eyes - the men who stood blindfolded before the firing squad, his own rifle gleaming in the sun, the wails of women and children and the elderly quieted down by the deafening bangs once the order was shouted and they obeyed. When they left those villages, too, had he heard the church’s bell ringing to a death knell. Mourning. 

Santa Cecilia was in mourning. His village, his parish. His people. His friends. Who did they take? Who did they kill? 

Not me. They’re leaving, they must not have been here for me. It’s all that matters, isn’t it?

… Isn’t it?

Ernesto didn’t answer his own question. He shut down all thought the way he desperately tried to shut out the ringing of the bell, and spurred the donkey down the hill as quickly as he could, heart hammering somewhere in his throat.

***

They’re mourning us already. 

The thought was enough to almost break him, but Héctor forced himself to keep going, holding onto the reins of the horse he had been given, clad in the too-small uniform that had been drenched with someone else’s sweat and blood. Forcing himself not to turn, not to break, because he knew that if he did he may never be able to put himself back together. 

Was that how soldiers got through it? Was that how Ernesto had survived until he'd found refuse in Santa Cecilia - by focusing on nothing but the road ahead, never turning back to look at what they may never see again?

No. I will be home again. I’ll be with them again. 

Héctor held tightly onto the reins and followed the horse in front of him, holding onto that thought with all he had.

***

They’ll come as soon as they get the message. They must.

Towards the back of the convoy, Gustavo shot a glance ahead towards the commander. He kept riding, not turning once. Thinking the bells were ringing to mourn them, most likely, or the stupid gringo priest who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, or both. Either way, he would be wrong… but he didn’t know that. He wouldn’t know until it was too late. 

Gustavo Torres pulled a knotted-up handkerchief from his pocket, one of several he’d stuffed in, and prepared to let it drop as soon as the column of men turned to another path.

***

With how little he’d lasted in bed the one night she had been dumb enough to spend with him, Sofía had written off Gustavo’s stamina as non-existing. However now, with her arms already aching from ringing the bell no more than a few minutes, she had to take that back. 

Not that she would say that aloud, let alone in his presence, but apparently he wasn’t bitching for no reason when he said bellringing was more work than it looked like.

No matter. Keep ringing. Keep going. Help will come.

So she did keep going, letting her gaze wander towards the column of men, their men among them, leaving the village right ahead of her. She kept ringing as she noticed Imelda leaving the parish down below, clearly having recovered the pistol they had taken from Ernesto and heading towards her parents’ home to… borrow one of their horses.

Be careful, Sofía thought, and might have prayed for her safety if she still believed God gave a damn. Instead she bit her lips and kept pulling. Kept ringing, focusing on nothing else.

And thus failing to notice Ernesto rushing down the hill, into the village and towards the plaza as quickly as the donkey - and then his legs - could carry him.

***

“They came upon us like locusts--”

“I turned and they were there--”

“They took my son! My only child, what will I do--”

“Why didn’t God smite them where they stood!”

“Thirty men, my brother among them, I ran but I was too late, I couldn’t say goodbye--”

Ernesto heard all of it, heard the cries and pleas, the anger and pain, but they seemed so very distant. He stood on the spot, reeling, eyes fixed on the ground in the middle of the devastated marketplace. 

There was blood. There was so much blood, soaking into dirt and pooling in the cracks between cobblestones. People and carts and horses had stepped over it in the chaos, tracking it everywhere; no matter where he turned, there was blood. A trail of it left the plaza, away from it, towards the church. Only one clear trail.

Only one body. 

“Who…?” Ernesto managed to ask. His ears were buzzing, and his tongue felt too large. The reply came like a blow to the pit of his stomach. 

The Delgado widow crossed herself, her skin pale as ash. “Their commander knows no God. He tried to take an orphan, the boy Brother Héctor spent so much time with-- Marco, was i--”

“Miguel?” Ernesto blurted out, horror stealing his breath for a moment. He looked at the woman with wide eyes, feeling as though all strength was sapped away from his body. All that blood, it seemed impossible it had all come from a child. It felt like a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

No, not him. It can’t be. Héctor will never recover. 

“Yes, Miguel… the poor child, he was so scared. Padre Juan tried to save him, to stop that man, but that beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!”

“What-- Juan?” Ernesto looked around again, at the blood, at the weeping people all around - and back towards the church, where the trail led. Above him, all around him, the death knell kept ringing.

“He shot-- Juan?”

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Sí. Ah, it was horrible. He fell back, and didn’t move-- so much blood, I couldn’t bear to watch.”

Ernesto staggered back, light-headed, struggling to make sense of what had happened. How had it happened? Only hours earlier, Juan had been alive and well - in a good mood, even. Messing with him by sending him out to bless a stupid bull. He’d chuckled, patted his arm like the insufferable bastard he was, promised there would be no Latin lesson that evening.

And now there would be Latin lessons at all, ever again, because that idiota could learn every stupid rule of an useless dead launguage but didn’t have enough brains not to step between a man with a gun and his target. 

Bile rose to Ernesto’s throat, and he closed his eyes. Behind his eyelid the sun still shone, merciless, and he stood in the desert, beneath two swaying hanging corpses, talking to a priest on the brink of death. Left to die for trying to be merciful when the world would not, for trying to put himself between prisoner and executioner. 

It was a bad call, Padre, Ernesto had said.

It was my duty, Padre Joaquín had replied. 

Stupid priest. Stupid gringo. 

High above, the bell kept ringing.

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

When Ernesto heard himself speaking again, his voice was barely audible to his own ears. “... And Miguel?” he managed. Had Juan’s death at least been worth something, anything at all?

“Oh, the child is safe-- Brother Héctor took his place, it was heartbreaking to see, but at least he has a chance of coming back alive.”

Ah, of course. Of fucking course Saint Héctor had taken the boy’s place. What was it with that village that made everyone so damn inclined to martyrdom? What was it about Santa Cecilia that made those who lived there so eager to die a stupid death?

God damn you, stop dying on me. Stop leaving me behind. 

“Padre Ernesto, will you pray to God for our men’s return?” a voice spoke up, and Ernesto turned to face a small, scared crowd. It was the first time he got to linger in a village after the Federal Army left it behind, and he found he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the anger, the pain, the pleading looks. He couldn’t stand how the first thing they chose to do was praying to a God who would not hear, or chose not to listen. 

God had never been any good to Ernesto. He had long since learned that if you want a job well done, you have to do it yourself. 

Ernesto gave a kind smile, seething with anger behind it. Anger was good, though. Anger would get things done. Anger was something solid to cling on to, so that he could ignore that other thing gnawing at him, threatening to undo him if he let himself acknowledge it.

He knew what he had to do.

“Of course,” Ernesto said, still smiling. “I will immediately retire to pray for their safe return in the chapel. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rushed towards the parish before any of them could say one more word - and before any of them could mention anything about the deserter they were looking for. He followed the blood trail for a distance and then diverged towards the back of the church, the death knell unbearably loud in his ears. He did his best to shut it out, to focus on the small voice in the back of his head. Juan’s voice, back when they had only just met. 

“As the founder of my order said, todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.”

Any means to find the divine will. 

Ernesto had seen the wisdom in de Loyola’s words then, and he certainly saw it now. By the time he reached the small shed where holy wine was stored, among other things, the blood rushing in his ears almost covered the incessant ringing of the bell. His hand closed around the cold metal key in his pocket, and bared his teeth in a smile that was almost a snarl, jaw clenched so tightly his face hurt. 

He had no idea what the divine will was, and neither did he care. He knew his own will, and he would see it become reality. 

“Todo modo,” he gritted out, and turned the key in the lock.

***

“... Do you think he has any chance of pulling through, Doctor Sanchéz?”

The man didn’t reply right away, washing his hands in a bowl of warm water that had by now turned almost completely red, as had the towels strewn about. For several moments all Antonia could hear was the quiet splashing of water, the distant echo of the bell ringing outside - what was Sofía doing? - and the painful-sounding gasps as Father John Johnson struggled to draw in each breath, eyes shut, skin pale and clammy, covered by a sheet. 

“Mph. I stitched up all I could, but my guess is that he’ll be the gravedigger’s problem before sundown. I have never seen a man lose as much blood as he did and live to tell the tale.”

Ah. Antonia nodded, folding her hands. There was no love lost between John Johnson and… any of the sisters, really, but this was not something she would wish on anyone. 

He tried to stop them. 

“I see,” she finally said. “We will pray for him.”

“Getting Padre Ernesto to come as soon as he returns would be a better use of your time. He will need the final rites,” Sanchéz muttered. Antonia barely had enough time to open her mouth to let him know she would when she was cut off by a groan. They both turned towards the bed; the gringo was still unconscious, but stirring weakly. Or was he regaining consciousness? Had he heard them? Or--

“Er-- nest--o,” he choked out, and that was it. His head fell back on the pillow and he made no more noise except for a weak, low whimper. 

After a long silence, doctor Sanchéz sighed. “... Go get him, for Christ’s sake, so he can give this poor bastard his final rites.”

Antonia nodded, something heavy in her chest, and went out to do just that. She was told almost as soon as she stepped outside that Padre Ernesto had indeed returned, and headed to the church to pray… only that he was not there. He was not in the chapel, not in the living quarters - not in the yard, nor in the orchard, or in the orphanage to comfort the children, or even back at the plaza. No one had seen him since. 

Padre Ernesto had returned, they told her... only that now he wasn’t anywhere.

***

Chicharrón needed a drink. 

It wasn’t that the events of the day had left him shaken, that he had felt powerless, or that he was terrified out of his mind of how quickly Héctor would die in battle, after a lifetime learning how to handle a guitar and barely touching a rifle. It wasn’t that he worried about Miguel’s state of mind, or that he was generally so upset even Juanita looked crestfallen. 

No, of course not. He was too old for that nonsense. He needed a drink for reasons unrelated to the day's mess, that was all, and he knew just where to find it.

But it seemed someone had found it before he did, because the shed’s door was open and what caskets of holy wine had been left were gone. 

Of course, better of them to have found the wine rather than any weapons or other supplies hidden away - that would have probably made them decide to burn Santa Cecilia to the ground - but that was the last straw and Chicharrón was suddenly too furious to even try and see a silver lining to anything. 

“Those bastards! Even the wine! Is nothing sacred anymore?”

Chicharrón would have kicked the door, if not for the fact he would have probably lost his balance or even broken his peg leg, so he did the next most reasonable thing, and punched it. 

“YOWCHGODDAMNIT!”

He punched the door again for good measure - his hand already hurt, anyway - and limped inside. Maybe they had left at least some wine, at least a casket; it wouldn’t hurt to check.

As luck would have it, there was one casket left, but Chicharrón didn’t pick it up right away. For a long time he could just stand frozen on the spot, staring at the empty space where something else had been stored. Something that was not wine at all. 

Well, look at that. Had those damn idiots taken the rat poison, too? God, he hoped they thought it to be sugar or something or the other. He hoped they would eat it and choke on it. 

Chicharrón limped right out of the shed with the remaining casket under his arm, slamming the door shut behind him and getting ready to toast to that wish - entirely unaware of the fact that a priest who was not a priest at all was currently clambering up the hill with two donkeys, one of whom carrying nothing but caskets of wine, hellbent on making that wish come true. By any means necessary.

High up in the belltower, the bell kept ringing.

***

[Back]

[Next]

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

[himik0toga]

Todoroki x Reader

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, okay, just hear me out. What if, in the fantasy AU- we switch shit up? Like instead of Dabi "dying" or, being cast out or cursed, Todoroki is the one to... disappear, or be cast out instead? This story was originally for my friend, but then I thought, "why not post it on tumblr?" So here we are! I'm not sure what the title should be yet, If anyone has any suggestions feel free to tell me :D But until then it's just going to be that title. This is a X reader story, with Shoto Todoroki and a mix of Dabi in there too- mainly todoroki though.

~~~~~~~~~~

The starry night sky glimmers like fairy dust. Harsh winds blow past the walls outside, angel tears pounding down onto the windows. The clap of thunder and a flash of lightning shocks the youngest occupant of the castle with a startle. His shaking, shivering form huddled in the corner as he slaps his hand over his mouth to muffle his small cry for help. Not like anyone would be able to hear him, it’s well past the dead of night.

“Shoto.. I know you’re here somewhere…”

the deep, scratchy chuckle echoes throughout the empty corridors. Frantically looking around, breath hitching with the streams falling down the small boy’s face. His unoccupied hand grips his shirt over his chest, willing desperately for his heart to calm down. Heavy footsteps get closer, the thumping in his ears get louder with the rain pouring harder outside.

Wide eyes look over to the sight next to him, letting out a louder cry. Everything, from the walls, floors, curtains, and flowers. The very world he grew up in slowly starts to decay right in front of him. Gasping when two hands wrap around his throat, squeezing threateningly. Quickly looking up he notices the white hair and bright eyes.

“Found you~...”

Before it goes dark. Hiccuping as he hits a floor harshly, water splashing around him. Shaky eyes look around the new room, mind racing over taking any form of coherent thoughts to form. It’s pitch black, nothing in sight. The water below him feels warm, warily bringing his hand up to his nose. His shaky hands cup his face, screaming out bloody murder in fear.

A smell of a sickening familiar smell fills his senses. From many days and nights since his young age of training, he knows this scent just like his older sister’s touch and soft words. Blood, everywhere. Iron permeated his mind with horrors from his father’s abuse. Standing up on quivering legs like a newborn fawn, his cries echo in this endless room. Bringing both hands to his chest in search of a form of comfort.

His bottom lip trembles when a scarred hand reaches out to grab his neck as before, electric blue eyes coming in view. The manic grin of the male stretches, causing blood to seep through the ruined and healthy skin. 

“Why’re you running from me shoto! Am I that scary to you? Maybe I need to teach you how to respect your elders!” 

The echoes of the male’s laughter surrounds him, not allowing any escape. With a wink the virile man slowly retreats, his gravelly chuckle everywhere. 

“Please! Why are you doing this to me?”

He yells, his feet moving before he could stop himself to run away. A sudden intense heat pulls another yell from him, moving away from the bright red flames. Tripping over what seems to be a root, tumbling down like jack and jill.

The light burns his eyes while laying on his back, whimpering at the stinging and pain from branches and thorny bushes. Helpless, he lays there while watching the blinding sun above of him shine into his eyes. The only bit of comfort being flush green leaves, the soft grass under him, and the birds singing into the atmosphere.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then ringing. the only sound his ears could pick up, loud enough to drown out everything other than that voice. He freezes for a second, breath stopping at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Yet his body relaxes at the tone of it, so soft and sweet. Surely this… voice, is from an angel sent to him from the heavens to save him from this hell.

Shade covers his vision, looking weakly up at the goddess above him. He can't see her face, though, the sun behind her shading her face. Her hair and surely soft skin glowing, yet unable to see the features of her face.

“Do you need help?”

The worry in her voice is evident with the way she bends down, holding her hand out for him to take. Cautiously he grabs her hand, shivering at the sudden warmth after being left out on his meadow’s floor for seemingly hours. Unable to look her in the eyes, too scared what she’d say about his bandages and mixed eyes, his focus stays on his lap.

“Here, take this”

He can almost hear the sweet smile in her voice, unable to see it. She gently places a small basket on his lap, the weaving of it simple yet enough for it to work. He first picks up the bread, freshly baked and chows down on it, the growling on his stomach loud enough for the little girl to laugh a little.

“You must be really hungry…”

She crouches down, pulling the satchel off her shoulders and grabbing some wraps and medicine.

“This should help with those cuts.”

Stating matter of factly, she gently grabs his arm which was injured during the fall, and places some of the gooey medicine on. The young boy flinches at the sudden touch of cold, yet calms down quickly after. It feels nice against his skin, he decides, and lets her continue. She soon deems it on enough, grabbing the wraps and wrapping them around his arm to make sure the medicine doesn’t wipe off.

“There you go!”

Her sweet voice fills his ears, making a small, soft smile to show on his face. He realizes it’s the first smile he’s had in months, and it warms his heart.

“My name is…”

The sound of her name in his ears creates a ringing sound, he asks her again what it was, or tries to as his voice seems to not be working. He tries again, touching his throat but nothing comes out. His eyes close shit as panic starts to set in, the ringing getting louder and he has to cover his ears to block it out.

Snapping his eyes open he frantically looks around, to notice it’s black out. The sun has settled past the trees, sleeping for the night. The moon has risen high in the sky, casting a blue and beautiful tone to everything. The stars are out again, twinkling in the sky. A fog has spread through the place, causing a chill to run down his spine.

Shivering he stands up, calling out to the seemingly empty place. Silence. The trees look young and beautiful, almost mysterious yet frightening with how the dark envelopes the ones further away. Glancing down he’s taller, has gained more muscle, and wears leather clothing. A teenager. He distantly wonders where he is, bringing his hand up to mess with his lock of hair, smooth and soft to the touch.

Just as he’s about to take a step further, he hears footsteps not from him. His eyes snap towards the direction of the footsteps, bracing himself in case he needs to fight. Yet instead of an enemy or animal, a younger boy around his age walks forward with firewood. He looks up, and smiles brightly at the bi-color haired male. His green hair bouncing as he rushes over.

“Sorry I took so long, todoroki-kun! It took a little longer to find firewood than expected” 

he chuckles nervously, finding a firepit and throwing the wood in it. A brown haired girl follows after, their water pouches once again full of water. Once the wood is lit, it gives the boy, Todoroki, a chance to look around better. The memories of what happened before he got here comes rushing back, now able to think after his nightmarish dream.

“Todoroki-kun! Hurry up!” A cheerful voice ahead of him calls, causing him to glance up at the two in front of him. Izuku Midoriya, is a bit shorter than him yet all the more cheerful. He always has a bright smile on his face, eyes big and filled with wonder at every new plant and animal the three of them come across.

The second friend of his, Uraraka Ochaco, is always just as bright. How brown hair bounces with each step she takes, looking forward to the next part of their adventure. Her eyes are always on Midoriya-kun though, Todoroki has realized. He hasn’t brought it up to her yet but he wonders why she’s always glancing at him.

“Sorry, Uraraka” he says in a monotone voice, walking a bit faster to catch up to his two only friends.

“Don’t be sorry, Todoroki-kun! I just want to make it to the next village soon!” she giggles, looking ahead again once Todoroki is walking besides them.

The three make an excellent team, Midoriya always ready to fight others if they do his friends wrong. Uraraka has her own fighting spirit, knowing some sort of fighting technique from many years of being poor and having to fend off the disgusting people in the world. Then of course the tallest of the three, knowing how to use a sword and ride a horse from his days at the castle.

The three traveled days on end, this time ending in a peaceful place, surrounded with trees before setting up camp. Uraraka set up their places to sleep, Todoroki looking to find some food while Midoriya went to gather camp wood.

After finishing up they enjoy their time telling stories, sometimes scary sometimes of legends. Of course Midoriya spoke about legends the most, always fascinated with both the dark and light of the stories. After having their stomachs full and get tired, they settle down for the night. Todorki is the first to fall asleep, unaware of the other two giggling and going off into the night to have more time together.

Todoroki blinks and nods after noticing Uraraka waving her hand in front of his face, sitting down on the rock he sat on earlier during their story times. Leaning towards the fire he warms up quickly, looking around again. Midoriya and Uraraka are chatting quietly, trying not to disturb Todoroki’s peace too much.

The fire’s light doing little to hide the red on both of their faces, apparently one of them said something embarrassing, both of them being affected by it. He looks to the ground, kicking up some dirt while standing.

“I’m going to head back to sleep”

He says quietly, the two of them looking over and nodding at him before continuing on with their conversation, this time more calmly. Laying down on the make-shit bed of leaves and blankets, he stares up at the sky again.

This time the fire’s smoke and embers swirling into the sky above him. It almost reminds him of the older days where he would sneak out with all three of his siblings, before something happened with the oldest making him turn cold towards everyone. They would dance and laugh around a fire, pretending to be part of that one legend of the fire demon, once creating the magical flame, giving warmth to the humans and the ability to cook meat.

Their father would always get mad at them the next morning after finding out from the tracks of dirt they let in, though the eldest would always protect the other three. Closing his eyes to try and rid of that memory, he falls into yet another slumber, this time staying asleep until the morning and bright blue sky shows again.

#shoto todoroki #dabi #prince dabi #fantasy au #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader