#Return to the edge

[ziggityzigg]

I have a silly idea for in between Httyd2 and Httyd3.

Okay, so, it’s gonna he called “Return to the edge.” Because well, Race to the edge- you get my point.

The gang, including Eret and Valka, go to the edge. Maybe to restore it as a new base when on trips? Both V and E get huts, everything is overgrown.

And maybe a new villain of some sorts? Maybe traces of Grimmel?? Who knows.

We get more detail into the characters, backstorys, ect. (Mostly Eret and Valka, both having an episode based on them.)

Hiccup grieving his father, but everyone reassures him. Fishlegs finally gets to manage Ruffnut on a date so they start dating.

Snotlout given up on Ruffnut, but, once saved by Valka in some sort of way, he gets a new liking. (Platonically, like a “omg, you’re so cool” way.)

Tuffnut still has Chicken you motherfuckers.

Eret chats with Snotlout about his “obsessive” ways to Valka. He denies it and calls him jealous.

We get shown how their armor was made!!

Thats really all the idea’s i have here:)

[eldstunga]

Maintain your focus. Cheeky lil' Commission of a Cathar jedi...meditating.

Thank you so much for commissioning me!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

weeee fantasy au scribbles look at these Guys

[frostbitebakery]

Hi :D 👀👀 I'm very much intrigued by Surrender, Please!!! <3

The evil!Codywan AU that takes over my brain whenever I’m feeling especially volatile! They travel dimensions and of course got caught up in good!Codywan’s universe.

.

“You love me,” Cody grits out, roughly squeezing Obi-Wan’s body to his own. “You promised.”

“But—“

“No.”

Obi-Wan is shaking like a leaf in his arms, the pieces of him clattering apart, and Cody won’t have it.

“It’s calling me,” Obi-Wan rasps out.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” he begs, tightens his grip and presses his nose into the grey-tinted neck, the red veins. “You have me. You know you can’t lose me.”

“It would destroy me,” Obi-Wan agrees softly and a part in Cody’s chest relaxes in an increment. “I can’t lose you.”

And Cody can’t lose him. Not any more than he already has, like he lost himself.

“Help me turn around, please,” Obi-Wan orders softly after a while. Tremors still flit across his limbs but it’s getting better, slowly.

Together they take care not to aggravate Obi-Wan’s knee, Cody offering his body as a brace as always. Golden eyes flick up to his face before they vanish under grey eyelashes.

Sometimes he wonders when Obi-Wan lost all his colors except gold and red. Maybe it started when Cody caught him staring at the Open Circle Fleet insignia more and more often, lost in thought and grief.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” The question is hidden in the robes and blanket, careful in its presentation as if there’s more than one answer.

Cody rubs his nose against grey hair, his lips against a grey forehead. “I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“You aren’t,” Obi-Wan says, echoes of mischief in his voice. He curls into himself, into Cody. “They want to see monsters.”

Cody glances at the mirrored transparisteel window along one wall. Their counterparts, the good versions, he thinks with a sneer, are probably watching. Watching and waiting.

“They’re wondering what made us this way,” Obi-Wan continues, voice raspy and rough ever since the gold broke his eyes. “They’re wondering where our roots are in their heads.“

[wavesmp3]

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him. 

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station. 

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.  

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes. 

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here. 

he wakes up just as your finger finds it. 

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.” 

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair. 

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling. 

“i was looking for your gray hair.” 

he perks up. “do i still have it?” 

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t. 

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.” 

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?” 

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe. 

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks. 

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget. 

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late. 

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day. 

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone. 

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him. 

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look. 

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?” 

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat. 

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too. 

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you. 

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger. 

“i’m sorry.” he tells you. 

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it. 

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home. 

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.” 

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform. 

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders. 

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back. 

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him. 

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his. 

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek. 

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind. 

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.” 

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him. 

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait. 

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city. 

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

[crusaderguy]

Simply built different, and in my opinion, FinalGoji is peak Godzilla. I just love when Godzilla is an anti hero.

[leenfiend]

based on the train chapter 95 of Observations by J-anon

[aroaceleovaldez]

once again thinking about the worldbuilding in the riordanverse of "names are power" / "belief is power."

The Tri were only able to become immortal through convincing enough people to worship them that it became true. Monsters and immortals only exist through continued belief, and if enough people believe that they're dead or gone then it becomes true, like Pan. Their varied forms exist and manifest as they're believed in and called upon. Names call attention and epithets summon aspects. They're acknowledgement. Belief. Putting a name to a concept creates it as an individual.

And that's so fascinating when you start applying it to demigods. How much of their abilities are based on belief in themselves, in expectations of each other, in their parents' expectations of them? We've seen mortal figures who became immortal in some form or another because they were remembered. Even the lares - ancestral house gods, who persist because they're remembered. They have a legacy.

At what point does a demigod achieve that status? Rumors and whispers about them so persistent that they slowly become true. "I heard that Jason Grace is the son of two gods, does that make him a god?" "I heard Percy Jackson defeated a titan single-handedly. That he can create hurricanes without breaking a sweat. That he can control blood." After awhile, after enough rumors, does it become impossible to tell where they end and the legends begin? Isn't that what being a demigod is; half-legend?

[kyraxyrespace]

Don’t mind me, just hyper-fixating on how these two are always aware of what’s happening to each other in battle.

[violet-moonstone]

highlights from "return of thor bonecrusher"

i really enjoyed this episode. we get to see thor bonecrusher again as well as snotlout being hopelessly in love with him

snotlout is SO eager to turn fishlegs into thor. so desperate

and then theres the ear whisper

and then theres this:

snotlout thinking dreamily about thor:

i remember not liking thor bonecrusher the first time i watched this series but he definitely grew on me.

LOOK! LOOK AT THIS!!!

thor the anti-hero reminds me a bit of dagur. this line has so much dagcup energy:

sad snotlout is so cute

"that ass" im not sorry

snotlout continuing to be in love even as thor is endangering him and his friends

then snotlout being in awe as fishlegs goes into warrior mode to save him (sometimes i forget how strong fishlegs is because hes so gentle most of the time)

and then the ending in which everyone is adorable and cuddly

except astrid lol

[moghedien]

As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a matter of if Moghedien escapes the Seanchan post-series, it’s a matter of how long its takes her to convince them that not returning would cause a diplomatic incident and if they don’t trust her they should turn her into the Aes Sedai but actually only one specific Aes Sedai and if it’s any other or they take too long she’s going to start being psychosexual at the sul’dam again

[purplysugary]

for chapter 500!! loved the north sea arc too. keep being a badass.

[hydrachea]

He's so moe I'm going to tear him apart with my teeth.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Fontaine archon quest has come and gone and I need MORE MOTH sob

NO BECAUSE ME TOOOOOO I NEED FOUL LEGACY TO HAVE MORE THAN LIKE 5 MINUTES OF SCREENTIME AUUGHHHH

imagine if you jumped into the Primordial Sea with the Traveler and Neuvillette, not to fight- the starving narwhal would consume you without a second glance- but because Ajax is in there, Foul Legacy is in there, and you're not about to let them go off and get themselves nearly killed like they have so many times before- honestly, what were they thinking?! your feet land on congealed water with a light splash, everything oozing and swirling and dotted with stars. it sticks to your shoes like gel, and your lip curls in disgust before your gaze wanders to a familiar shape lying in a heap, all violet and charcoal and night-colored with a pop of deep, rusted crimson

Foul Legacy whines as you dart over, gashes and wounds leaking dark, starry blood through his armor and stained on every talon. he claws at the quicksand water, forcing himself to move forward and collapse into your arms with a choked whimper, clinging to you like a lifeline. all you can do is drag him out of range when the narwhal bursts forth from the sea, silently watching the Traveler take up their sword- somehow it's not the most terrifying thing you've ever seen, but being a Harbinger's significant other often means life or death situations. Legacy jolts in your arms every time the narwhal lets out an echoing cry, hooking his claws on the edge of your shirt as he trembles, dry sobs coming from his throat when you kiss his forehead and tell him that everything's going to be alright, your fingers tracing over the rough, worn patches on his palms from days and days of grasping his polearm in desperate battle

[azu1as]

dumb rotmhs fanfic idea where chung myung doesn't reincarnate and instead turns into a lost ghost on mount hua.

that is, until his spirit stumbles into yu iseol chasing after their lost plum blossoms technique that he begins to slowly regain his memories.

Got inspired by @dew-in-the-morning's tweet here!! You can also read the original fic thread :DD

»—————————–✄

yu iseol doesn't know who the one-armed stranger was. she had opted to ignore him when she first noticed his presence in the far distance upon arrival at the clearing. but he'd been observing her for almost two hours now, and it seemed as if he had no intentions to leave at all.

"come out." she tells the one-armed man, but frustratingly receives no response at all.

she makes a move towards him but he disappears within a blink.

a part of yu iseol becomes unsettled, but she decides to brush it off as nothing more than a one-off encounter.

she's quickly proven wrong.

the following night, she once again finds him in the same spot, facing her direction. it continues that way the next night until the next week. the man is consistently there and always leaves whenever yu iseol outwardly acknowledges his presence.

after almost two weeks of this occurring, yu iseol decides to stare just as intently at the man as he did at her sword.

she doesn't often feel conscious about how others perceived her, but something about the way the man's eyes visibly narrows when she swings or stabs her sword makes her every move feel like they were being scrutinized and dissected.

and that her results were unsatisfactory if the random clucks and tsks she hears off to the side whenever she overextends her swings were any indication.

the man's robes were clearly from mount hua. but she quickly realizes that what she initially thought were shadows on his garbs were actually dark blood stains.

then a sense of uneasiness washes over her when she notices that she could see the edges of a tree through him.

it seems that her nightly companion was some sort of supernatural entity.

she doesn't feel any true fear though because no amount of malice or resentment was ever turned her direction since she began seeing the man.

"who are you?" yu iseol finally asks.

but, as expected, the man disappears and she's left alone in the clearing.

%%%

"are there ghosts on mount hua?" yu iseol asks the sect leader much to his bemusement.

"perhaps." he replies to her after a beat passes. "what brought this on?"

yu iseol silently huffs at the admittedly lackluster reply, but responds politely, "i just saw something."

before she could turn away, the sect leader hums pensively and gently adds,

"maybe what you saw was the ghost of an ancestor watching over you."

clearly, it was intended to be an acknowledgement of her nightly sword training and visible efforts towards attaining mount hua's swordsmanship.

yu iseol, however, took the message quite differently.

that night, yu iseol lets out a breath and lowers her sword as she once again catches sight of the semi-translucent man observing her from behind a tree.

her attention zooms in on the bloodied embroidery of a plum blossom on his chest and the sword sheath strapped to his waist.

she steels herself as her eyes locks onto sharp, pink ones. she was certain that whoever this man had been, he was a strong swordsman with the way he held himself even in death.

and if the way he attentively observed her sword training was a potential indication....

"excuse me," yu iseol begins, fists clenched, "do you know how to make plum blossoms bloom?"

there was a long pause between them. for a moment, yu iseol worried that she was mistaken and that the spirit of this ancestor would disappear as he usually did.

but then the one-armed man steps forward for the first time into the clearing and replies by unsheathing his sword.

it glints against the moonlight despite its translucency and yu iseol knows that she couldn't miss the next moments no matter what.

the ghost of her ancestor holds it aloft in the air for a brief moment. And then he swings his sword into an arc.

in yu iseol's chest, the uncertain flicker of hope ignites into an unstoppable wildfire.

[clotpolesonly]

Blue Lily, Lily Blue ch 47 // The Raven King ch 67