#monstrous nightmare eggs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nyxshadowhawk · 8 months

Text

Hellenic Gods Fact Sheets and Hymns: Hecate

Other Names: Trivia, Brimo

Epithets: Anassa eneroi (queen of those below), Aidonaia (lady of the Underworld), Amibousa (she who changes), Atalus (tender, delicate), Borborophorba (she who feeds on filth), Brimo (angry, terrifying), Despoina (mistress), Eileithyia (of childbirth), Enodia (of the roads), Epaine (dread), Euplokamos (bright-tressed), Khthonia (of the Underworld), Kleidouchos (keeper of the keys), Kourotrophos (protector of children), Krokopelos (saffron-robed), Liparokredemnos (bright-coiffed), Nycteria (nocturnal; of the night), Nyctipolos (night-wandering), Perseis (destroyer/ daughter of Perses), Phosphoros (light bearer), Propolos (guide), Propylaia (the one before the gate), Scylacagetis (leader of dogs), Soteira (savior), Trikephalos (three-headed/of the crossroads), Trimorphos (three-formed), Trioditis (of the three ways), Trivia (of the three ways).

Domains: Witchcraft, magic, necromancy, ghosts, nightmares, death, initiation, the crossroads, gateways, passage between worlds, and the night.

Appearance: [My UPG] A tall (over 6’) woman, neither young nor old, with waist-length black hair, pale skin, prominent cheekbones, a heavy jaw, and intense green eyes. She is usually dressed in black folds molded into a simple dress or robes. She has a severe expression and an intimidating presence. She speaks with a low voice.

Sacred Days and Festivals: Eleusinia (22 Metageitnion). Nemoralia (August 13th-15th). Deipnon, last day of each (lunar) month.

Symbols/Attributes: Torches, keys, daggers, strophalos (iynx wheel)

Sacred Animals: Dog, polecat, serpent, horse, frog.

Sacred Plants: Yew, cypress, garlic, willow, hazel, black poplar, aconite, belladonna, dittany, mandrake, hemlock, asphodel

Elemental Affinity: Darkness, light, fire

Planet: Moon

Colors: Black, saffron, silver.

Crystals: Black onyx, hematite, obsidian, black tourmaline, moonstone, smoky quartz, agate, amethyst.

Incense: Myrrh, almond, cypress, camphor, saffron, mugwort, pomegranate.

Tarot Cards: The High Priestess, The Moon, Death

Retinue: Empousai, ghosts of the dead, dogs, Lampades (torch-bearing underworld nymphs)

Associated People: Witches (and other magic-users), the dead

Offerings: Bread, eggs, honey, garlic, menstrual blood, graveyard dirt.

Syncretized With: Artemis, Diana, Persephone, Eileithyia, Selene, Nephthys, Ereshkigal, Nicnevin, Heqet

Hymns to Hecate

Orphic Hymn to Hecate

Hekate Enodia, Trivia, lovely dame, Of earthly, watery, and celestial frame, Sepulchral, in a saffron veil arrayed, Pleased with dark ghosts that wander through the shade; Daughter of Perses, solitary goddess, hail! The world’s key-bearer, never doomed to fail; In stags rejoicing, huntress, nightly seen, And drawn by bulls, unconquerable, monstrous queen; Leader, Nymphe, nurse, on mountains wandering, Hear the suppliants who with holy rites thy power revere, And to the herdsman with a favoring mind draw near.

Hecate’s Hymn to Herself

I come, a virgin of varied forms, wandering through the heavens, bull-faced, three-headed, ruthless, with golden arrows; chaste Phoebe bringing light to mortals, Eileithyia; bearing the three synthemata [sacred signs] of a triple nature. In the Aether I appear in fiery forms and in the air I sit in a silver chariot, Earth reins in my black brood of puppies.

(From Porphyry’s lost commentary on the Chaldean Oracles, preserved by Eusebius of Caesaria in Praeparatio Evangelica. According to Porphyry, this hymn was composed by Hecate herself.)

Magical Invocation to Hecate

Approach, you of the netherworld, of earth, of heaven, Bombo! You by the wayside, at the crossroads, light-bearer, night-wanderer, Enemy of light, friend and companion of night, Rejoicing in the howl of dogs and in crimson gore, Lurking among the corpses and the tombs of lifeless dust, Lusting for blood, bringing terror to mortals, Grim one, Ogress [Mormo], Moon – you of many forms, May you come gracious to our sacrificial rites!

(Preserved in Refutation to All Heresies by Hippolytus)

Invocation to Hecate from PGM IV 2708-84

Come, giant Hecate, Dione’s guard, O Persia [daughter of Perses], Baubo Phroune, dart-shooter, Unconquered Lydian, the one untamed, Sired nobly, torch-bearing, guide, who bends down Proud necks, Kore, hear, you who’ve parted / gates Of steel unbreakable. O Artemis, Who, too, were once protectress, mighty one, Mistress, who burst forth from the earth, dog-leader, All-tamer, crossroad goddess, triple-headed, Bringer of light, august / virgin, I call you Fawn-slayer, crafty, O infernal one, And many-formed. Come, Hekate, goddess Of three ways, who with your fire-breathing phantoms Have been allotted dreaded roads and harsh / Enchantments, Hekate I call you

[…]

O Hekate of many names, O Virgin, Kore, Goddess, come, I ask, O guard and shelter of the threshing floor Persephone, O triple-headed goddess, Who walk on fire, cow-eyed BOUORPHORBE PANPHORBA PHORBARA AKITOPHI ERESHKIGAL / NEBOUTOSOUALETH Beside the doors, PYPYLEDEDEZO And gate-breaker; Come Hekate, of firey Counsel, I call you to my sacred chants.

#hecate #hekate #greek gods #greek goddess #hellenic paganism #hellenic polytheism #helpol #witchcraft #witchblr #hecate worship #fact sheets #orphic hymns #greek magical papyri

301 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 3 months

Note

Httyd request Hookfang x fem!monstrous nightmare

Oh boy, more dragon x dragon time!

Yandere! Hookfang with Monstrous Nightmare! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Monstrous Nightmare courting, Dragon x Dragon, Possessive behavior, Violence, Mate mention, Dubious/Forced relationship.

What is cool about this is in the series we can actually see how Monstrous Nightmares act towards the opposite gender.

Especially with Hookfang during RTTE.

Hookfang most likely found you by chance, maybe you were calling for a male of your species?

It's said in the wiki that female Monstrous Nightmares can easily call males to their area.

I feel this is similar to the "Total Nightmare" episode in RTTE.

Except instead of protecting your eggs you may need help from some other danger.

A danger Hookfang defends you from due to your call.

Snotlout no doubt panics when he realizes Hookfang has gotten attached to a female of his species.

It's happened before but Snotlout can tell Hookfang is actually very interested in you.

The male Monstrous Nightmare often heads to your nest to gift you sweet smelling flowers and food like... rats-

He often acts proud and shows off towards you, clear acts of courting.

You appreciate his protection... but don't entirely reciprocate the courting.

Snotlout tries to regain Hookfang's attention but it doesn't entirely work.

Hookfang only responds with aggression towards his rider.

Snotlout is envious of you but may try to befriend you.

Hookfang is jealous when his rider approaches you, touching your nose softly and stroking your horns.

Hookfang may even try to snap at Snotlout to back off during his courting.

Hookfang's obsession over you isn't like any other Monstrous Nightmare courting it seems....

Even if you don't entirely reciprocate, Hookfang fights off any other male dragon around you.

He becomes incredibly possessive of you, often nudging you with his head in an attempt to show interest.

It seems Hookfang will continuously grow aggressive until he can gain your favor.

How long until it's no longer him just being snappy?

How long until he just decides to torch the area around you to gain your favor?

Will he cast his rider aside forever?

Can Snotlout manage to separate his dragon from you?

Unfortunately... who knows?

Even if you flee, Hookfang has your scent in his nose.

He'll find you... his perfect mate.

Eventually his courting will hit a peak...

You have a feeling Hookfang won't take no for an answer.

#yandere how to train your dragon #yandere httyd #yandere monstrous nightmare #yandere dragon x dragon #yandere dragon

73 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 1 year

Text

FEAR OF GOD: Chapter VIII: The Fisher King

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Teach me how to ask for forgiveness, even when I know I don’t deserve it.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: angst; PTSD; very brief mention of infertility in the first section, description of injury

A/N: Art is Breach by Keith Perelli (2006-2007)

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII: The Fisher King

But still. Still.

Bless me anyway.

I want more life. I can’t help myself. I do.

I’ve lived through such terrible times, and

There are people who live through much worse, but… You see them living

anyway. When they’re more spirit than body, more sores, than skin, when they’re

burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in

the corners of the eyes of their children,

they live. Death usually has to take life

away. I don’t know if that’s just the animal.

I don’t know if it’s not braver to die. But I

recognize the habit. The addiction to being

alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope

anywhere, that’s it, that’s the best I can do.

It’s so much not enough, so inadequate but

…Bless me anyway. I want more life.

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

“Do you think you’ve been happy, so far?” you ask her one night.

“I think so, yes. Have you?” Her answer is immediate. She’d never been one for much indecision – that was always your role.

“Yes. At times. I’ve also been very sad.”

“Me too.” You can hear it now, that sadness, in the quietness of her voice.

“I hope we can be happy in the future. That we’ll be together, always.” The two of you are laying under the stars, hidden in the forest, in your old sleeping bags. She says the trees guard you, keep you safe. If you’d had more experience, you’d have felt very close to death in that moment.

“We will be. Don’t worry about that.”

“I don’t want either of us to die,” and you can hear how young you sound, how naive. Despite all you’ve been through, you’ve not been able to let go of that part of yourself. When you’re older you will think that, perhaps, that was not such a bad thing.

“We won’t. That won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. I have a plan. If we stick to it, we’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” Your trust in her is implicit, after all.

She is very quiet for a while after that, you think she’s fallen asleep, but then suddenly: “You know, I can’t have children.”

“How do you know?”

“Things were off – Dad was able to run some tests.” That sadness is there again, echoing in her voice, and it is a very painful thing to hear from someone you love so much – someone you know would want that for themselves.

“I’m sorry.” For there is nothing else to be said in light of such a tragedy for her. She would make a wonderful mother.

“It makes me really sad.” There’s quiet again, for a long time, but then: “I know it’s a terrible world. Not safe – but still… It makes me very sad.”

“I’ll have one for the both of us. We can share.”

One of the last times you ever hear her laugh – you should have cherished the sound more – branded it in your memory. “I’d like that.”

Beth is dead two days later.

He sits by your sick bed for days. Shrouded in darkness, he lets his fear, his nightmares swallow him whole – the great gaping maw of a monstrous dream come to fruition. He thinks of Sarah’s mother, his ex-wife, for some reason – can’t understand why she comes to his mind in this moment, honestly. He hasn’t thought about her in decades, that woman he’d known so long ago – can hardly remember her face now. It makes him indescribably sad.

He’s trying to prevent his mind from dissociating. To keep himself present, in case you wake, in case you need him. But the sight of you, small and pale and broken. So still. It fractures his mind in a way he cannot understand. The days of you being lost – of his mad flight to find you, out with teams of hunters, combing the forest for any sign of you, the way he’d screamed at Maria and Tommy and Ellie and anyone else who got too close, spoke too loudly. He’d been extremely close to violence, of the unimaginable sort. That terrible last night, his own destruction, flashing over and over and over in his mind, the things he’d said to you. He could not compare the terror to anything else he’d ever experienced before. The pure horror of that being the last memory you’d ever have of him, of coming across your dead, mangled body, of never seeing your bright, unguarded smile again – in decades filled with fear, day in and day out, he now felt he’d been infected with the most unimaginable of diseases. A stabbing, bone melting pain to his mind, his heart, his flesh, again and again, all of his own making.

This is his fault. He did this to you. Pushed you away. Made you feel like you needed to flee, escape him. He wants to be angry with you for being so stupid, for going out there without him. But how could he not understand it – for what choice did he give you? That you’d prefer to face the monsters out there, rather than the one inside, the one in front of you – rather than him. He thinks he too would rather face the horrors out there, a thousand infected, than face himself. Face his own guilt, his own shortcomings.

He still isn’t speaking to Maria – can barely look at her. He’d told her if you were dead it’d fall on her head. That he’d blame her for it forever. It was a viciously unfair, nasty thing to throw at her when he’d been the one to push you away, the one to tell you to leave, when this was really all his fault alone.

He thinks of Tess – how he’d not been able to keep her safe either, all that time ago. A regret so profound, he’s sure he’ll swim in it for the rest of his miserable life.

Ellie had said sending you away that night had perhaps been the worst thing he’d ever done. The sight of you in this bed proves that fact, and he is filled with a rage so black, so all consuming, it cripples him, will send him to his grave if you don’t come out of this.

He hasn’t slept in days. Merely closing his eyes to rest his racing mind a few moments at a time. The baby you’d had with you has been with Maria. Tiny, squealing, rageful thing that she is. She only quiets when Maria brings her into your room, lays her beside your sleeping form. As if she knows already, even now, that the best place in the entire world is at your side. He closes his eyes in the quiet interminable moments of waiting and tries to picture Sarah’s mother in his mind. To remember her face. He cannot. There’s only a flash of dark curls. The sound of her voice, gone to time. All he can conjure with clarity is the image of Sarah’s smiling face that last morning he’d spent with her. His most precious memory. Something he exercises in his mind every morning when he wakes, lest, he too, forget that. He wonders if she’s still alive, what happened to her after the outbreak. He hopes she survived – hopes she lived a life not too full of terrible, painful things. Although, he isn’t entirely sure there exists any other version of this life anymore. He hopes he can find it, if it does, and give it to you, if you’ll let him.

He looks back at your resting form. The welts and scrapes that had marred the side of your face are healing well. The swelling receding into angry bruising. Nancy was worried you’d sustained a head injury, as an explanation for your prolonged unconsciousness, but neither the bones in your face, nor your skull were broken. Perhaps only a mild concussion, she thought. It inclined her to believe this was simply a side effect of the blood loss you’d endured from the wound in your side, the exhaustion and trauma.

Joel thinks he might become a religious man after this. Thinks he might start going to church, prostrating himself at the effigy of the cross to thank whatever higher power there exists for bringing you back to him, keeping you alive, allowing him another chance to see that smile, even if it’s never directed at him again. Because that is something else he is terribly afraid of. That his last words to you that night, will be the only thing you’ll ever be able to remember of him. All you’ll ever be able to see of him, going forward. He is so, so afraid of the consequences of his own terrible actions. Terrified that the moment he cast you away will be the only moment the two of you live in together for the rest of your lives.

And he thinks: Joel Miller, you are a man made up of fears.

The first thing you see when you finally open your eyes again are his hands. They’re scarred. Tiny, faded marks of a life past, marring the lines of a map of all his pain, his history. Your body hurts, one large throbbing bruise. But the fire in your shoulder, the muscles of your back and arm, has abated. You say a silent prayer of thanks that you’d been able to keep from straining it more. Any more damage and you’d have probably lost function of the limb entirely.

His eyes are closed, his temple pressed against his fist on the arm of the chair pulled up to your bedside. The house is entirely silent – dark and peaceful. You stretch your legs under the blankets, no terrible amount of pain, and his eyes spring open immediately at the subtle sound of your shifting. So attuned to you, that the mere rustling of the sheets brings him to wakefulness. You watch the dilation of his pupils, everything else frozen in place. Head still resting against his fist, he stares at you wide eyed and unblinking. You take in his face – his eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in the harsh purple bruising of exhaustion. His too long, messy curls lie limply across his forehead. He looks haggard, wrung dry. The most defeated you’ve ever witnessed him. Neither of you say anything as you study the other. He still hasn’t moved and the look in his eyes – afraid, resigned, like you’re a predator about to come in for the kill strike.

You feel indescribably sad for him, seeing him like this. Brought down low. It’s wrong. Not an image of the Joel you know that should exist in the world. You’re sure you mustn’t look much better. Broken, the both of you, in this shared moment. You slowly start to slide your palm across the bed towards him, and like a flip bringing him back to life, he melts onto the ground from the chair. Coming to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed, he grasps your outstretched hand and presses his forehead into your palm, his grasp so, so gentle. His other hand snakes up, under the blankets to grip your bare knee in his warm palm, his thumb slowly sweeps over the bend.

His shoulders begin to jerk, in tiny little gasps. He’s crying.

“I was so afraid.” It is choked and guttural, a confession of the highest order, an admission of weakness, a supplication for mercy, for forgiveness.

You know that his words are all encompassing. He was afraid that night, when the two of you were attacked, when he told you he loved you, when he sent you away, when he couldn’t find you. He’s been afraid for decades, since the moment he met you, since the moment his daughter died. Your heart cleaves in two at the sight of his defeat. The hot slide of his tears through the spaces between your fingers, pooling in the cup of your palm, the liquid feel of them burns you, incites a violence in your heart to rise up at the sight of his suffering, of his pain. But you say nothing. Too weighed down by your own terror, your own pain.

By the prospect of having to tell him the truth. The secret you’ve been carrying with you, that you’re pregnant. Terrified of his reaction. Of his possible rejection. For it isn’t just you anymore that would feel the loss of him. There’s two, three, of you now. And you’re terrified of having to ask him to bear this with you. Don’t want to have to ask. And part of you knows, is positive, that he’ll be there for you without you ever having to even ask. That there would be no question of it. No other alternative. That if anything else, the man before you is honorable and good – despite his violence, despite his sins, despite his fear, he is good. He would never abandon you to face this alone. But still, you’re afraid. Just as he is, just as he has been. So you say nothing, simply bring your other hand up to cup the back of his bent head.

There are no words that could fit in the quiet space of your room in that moment – so swollen is it with all your shared fears, all the things left unsaid. You let him cry.

Ellie finds him sitting on his front porch, guitar in hand, strumming gently – a mug sits by his side. There is no fight to be had now, this she knows. Perhaps no reconciliation, either – not at this moment. But there is much to be said, still, or even perhaps, merely silence to be shared. This is her olive branch. In the days since your disappearance, and then since you’d been found, recovering, she’s had a lot of time to think. To consider her choices.

“Hey.” The look on his face as he watches her walk up guts her – so full of reluctantly glad surprise.

“What’re you drinking?”

“Coffee.”

Of course. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh… those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but … it’s not bad.”

“Oh,” she’s slightly at a loss for what to say, how to continue. Their once easy banter seems so unreachable with so much laying between them. “You need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.”

“Okay,” he says succinctly – like he’s not going to take her incendiary bait. He looks away, considering what he’s about to say next. “Dina. Is she your girlfriend?”

And nope, she sure as fuck hadn’t been expecting that one. “No! She – That was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything,” she denies, referring to the kiss he’d accidentally witnessed last night when he was on his way home from trying to see you. “She just… I don’t know why she did that.”

He tilts his head contemplatively, gives her a knowing look. “You do like her.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

And she knows she told herself she didn’t come here to fight, but he’s so damn aggravating and nosy, she can’t help it. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m not trying to –”

“Just – just leave it.” She snaps, looking out at the dark road. “Have you been in to see her today?” Veering towards less conflictive ground.

“Nancy didn’t let me in, said they were both restin’.” He drags his hand tiredly over his face, “Haven’t had much of a chance to talk at all.”

“But before… how’s she been?”

“On the mend – tired, I think. Nance said she’s recovering well. But quiet. She– she doesn’t much want to see me, to be honest …” Maria had said you’d been withdrawn. Not really wanting to see anyone besides Nancy and the baby.

“That was – When we couldn’t find her… Scared the fuck out of me.”

He looks down into his mug of coffee, his jaw shifting side to side, “Yeah… yeah. I– it was–” She knows he can’t discuss it, can’t even voice the terror that gripped him at the thought of losing you. Something about the confirmation of knowing how much he loves you, settles something within Ellie. Reinforces the resolve in her heart.

“Not just for her though. I was scared for you too.” The look he gives her then – she sees that flicker of desolation she was so scared he’d be lost to forever if you’d not come back – if you’d died. There isn’t much left in Ellie that’s overly sentimental, but she could cry at the relief of knowing you’re okay, the both of you.

“Kate’s cute as fuck,” she smiles.

“She is… got those big blue eyes.”

“What are you gonna do? With them?”

“Not much I can do, I guess. ‘Cept take care of ‘em. Keep ‘em alive. If she’ll have me…”

“Love them,” she adds, and he hums in agreement, tilting his head a bit. No point in hiding it, he’s gone soft, everyone knows now, might as well embrace it. Put up a sign. “Well,” she continues, “We both know you’re good at doing that, at least,” her eyes are full of laughter, full of memories. “Taking care of misbehaving girls that can’t ever do what they’re told.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. You listened sometimes.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles, “You’re right, there was the rare occasion.” Her grin is roguish..

“Guess I’ve got enough practice ‘bout now, don’t I?

She goes suddenly serious, “Do you ever feel ashamed? When you remember what you did?” The question is abrupt, as if she wasn’t expecting herself to ask, but couldn't help it. She could be referring to so many things, so many sins.

He thinks about the day after Sarah died, when he’d been so ready to follow her to whatever end. His mind shies away from the memory – that is shame – a wound healed over, but still tender if pressed on too harshly. But he considers it now, in light of her question, how the overwhelming feelings driving that choice had been acceptance in that instant. A readiness to be done with all that continuing in a world without his daughter promised. Fate had granted him the opportunity to flinch, a chance he’d then passed on as a gift to Ellie. No matter how she saw it, he’d given her a chance to flinch. Something perhaps, one couldn’t recognize had they never consciously held that cold gun in their hand, pressed it to the tender nook of their temple and looked their own mortality in the face. But he’d given it to her, and not even an entire life of reliving all he’d endured as of yet, could ever, ever make him regret that choice. A parent did what they could to give their child the gift of choice. That was, in the end, the only thing one could do. The gift of choice, something he now had and so arrogantly squandered. Birdie was his choice. Fate had given him a gift once again, now he had to consciously decide to flinch or not.

“No. Never.” There is no doubt – no room for doubt. “I told you once, if I ever had the chance to do it again, I’d do it exactly the same.” There was a space where one could exist with their sins and not resent them. Joel knew it well now. There was only one road that had led him to this moment, to this place. He could not regret the decisions that’d brought Ellie to this life of peace and safety. That had brought him to your door. You had never felt like a sin. The sight of you, it made him calm, so free. There had been fear, too much of it, but never regret, never shame alongside your name.

“Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?” he asks her, and he can see the question takes her aback, a second of shock crossing her face. It’s all the answer he needs – for the thought to never have even entered her mind. She shakes her head, sharp and quick, “No.” She pauses, and then says, “Fuck your fear, Joel. If that’s what’s keeping you from her you have to let it go. It’ll be the thing to kill you in the end. Maybe not dead in the ground, but in a worse way.”

“I know…I know, Ellie.”

And so what if he had been afraid? In a world, a life, overrun with the worst possible outcome playing out in real time, what was one more terror? He realized it wasn’t the fear of loss that held him back. It was the fear of himself. Of his own inadequacy, his own monstrousness. Because he’d already lost you. Could feel the current loss of you, your absence, acutely. Like a gaping, putrid wound. The days you’d been missing, that he’d been so fucking terrified that he’d never see you again, that you were dead, as he searched desperately for you – he was already experiencing that which for so long was the reason for his denial. And he could think of nothing now that could be worse than not having you. Of knowing his little bird was existing out in the world and that he couldn’t touch you, hold you, kiss you. Fuck his fear indeed.

What did it matter if the world was vast and cruel if, in the end, they had one another?

“I struggled a long time with surviving. And no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for, something to be brave for,” he repeats his long ago words to her.

“You keep going for family… And she’s family.”

“Yeah… she is.”

“All this, it can’t have been for nothing.”

“It’s not. It won’t be.”

Existing in a grave for all those years, only to be violently pulled awake by a forest fire of a little girl – it changed the nature of a man. His nature had been changed irrevocably. And he needed to give this new version of himself to you now, in its entirety. And what struck him most was that despite all this, despite all he’d changed, lost and grown, since the start of all this, since Sarah died – who he was hadn’t entirely been determined yet. There was still possibility within him. There was still hope for more. And you saw that, you’d always seen that.

In a sudden startling way, he could perceive what he was, what he lacked, what he could be. You shared that perception; your vision of him was another gift. What was it about this sudden acute sense of self perception that was so close to madness, and how was it that suddenly, when you realized you were in love, it was as if you were able to see the world as it really was? Cordyceps had blanketed the earth in a film of death that he now saw in spectrums. There was a spectrum to death as it existed in the world, as what you allowed it to shape itself, and you, as. How did you perceive death – loss? How did you let it affect you when it inevitably touched your life? Was it to overwhelm you – or exist alongside you as simply another phenomena of nature? He could exist on that spectrum set about by nature or he could break free from it. Cordyceps – and all humanities’ basest desires it catered to – could go on existing, could continue to subjugate the world to its will, but he would break free from that subjugation of fear, of death, of failure, he would live his life now as he chose to. He could perceive with such clarity now what was real and what was not. His little bird was real and alive and waiting for him. This was no delusion, no farcical whim; it was a glance down into time – into the realities he’d once known and lived in, a world before calamity and fungus and dead little girls – and it wore the staggeringly beautiful face of you, a glance at the woman he loved.

“She’s angry with me. I– I hurt her.”

“Hmm… True… but she isn’t like us… she’s good. Kind. She’ll forgive you. She understands you.”

“Perhaps,” he says, but he isn’t sure, is terrified of the alternative, will try and make it up to you for the rest of his life if you need him to.

“Maybe time’ll be the thing to heal this wound”

He pauses at that, “It wasn’t time that healed it… remember?” The memory of their past hangs, once again, heavy in the air, but perhaps now, in this moment, a bit lighter than before.

She shakes her head, gives him a small smile, “I remember.”

She’s quiet for a moment, pensive. He’d missed her so much. This easy casual nothingness between the two of them. Just being together, talking. And as he takes her in, her chin tipped to the breeze, eyes closed, he thinks: if he could have done it all again, he would have loved her better. Perhaps made better choices. But he could not have loved her more.

How broken, how small he must have been, just a short time ago, to have found that thought so difficult to confess, even just to himself.

“Go find her, Joel. Tell her what you need to tell her.”

Chapter IX

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#FoG fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

205 notes · View notes

lostinwildflowers · 1 year

Text

Dragon Island

Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Summary: Kirishima is nothing but loving toward his dragon. When she disappears with no trace, he panics. When set out on a voyage to find her, he finds something he wasn't quite expecting.

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: strangers to lovers, also kind of idiots and enemies to lovers, fluff, very slight angst at the end, and slightly more mature language, a little *tiny* but spicy but still SFW :3

A/N: Wow, wow, wow, it has been a hot second. I have been so insanely busy with work that I am completely exhausted by the time I get home. Please enjoy this Kiri fic. -Birch<3

Useful Info:

Part i. Romantic Flight- Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Nothing is stronger than the bond between a dragon and its trainer. The relationship is strong as the metal forges that build their armor, it's as tough as the gnarled skin of the dragon. It even is as tender as the love between a married couple, soft and kind.

This rings especially true for Kirishima, who loves his Rumblehorn, Honey, with all of his heart. She is a remarkable dragon; obedient, protective, and most importantly, loyal.

You see, Kirishima raised Honey when he found her egg abandoned in the mountains of his home. There was no clutch of other eggs, no mother dragon in sight. There was no indication of a home for the egg, so he took it to his village to raise on his own.

Kirishima spent countless hours incubating the egg, monitoring its temperature and position until it hatched. That is when Honey joined the world.

Honey, once hatched, was identified as a Rumblehorn, a medium-sized tracker dragon. Known to be tough skinned and thick-skulled, Kirishima knew this little dragon was going to be his entire future.

That's why it stung so much when she disappeared into thin air.

The roar of the ocean was loud in Kirishima's ears, the dark, steely blue waters slapping against the keel of the ship. It was a rhythmic crash and pull, one that seemed to tug him deeper and deeper into his mind of worries.

The crew of men was working together on the ship, following the maps and comparing them to familiar landmarks. And the path of the dragons.

The longboat was one Kirishima had been in many times as a young boy, but now he found it dreadful and confined. He felt trapped by its mossy walls and soggy floorboards, wishing at any moment he could step onto dry land.

A cry from the darkened sky above crackles the air, and the sight of fire breaking through the blackness of the night makes Kirishima's throat tighten. Yet a moment later, it's silent again, or at least back to the sound of waves crashing.

After the brief interruption from whatever dragon was in the sky, Kirishima attempts at busying himself, sharpening his blade, sorting through his rations- anything to help him stop fretting over the disappearance of Honey.

At least, he tells himself, At least it wasn't just Honey. That Nadder from the family up on the hill has been missing, and even Mrs. Oonlouck's Grockle flew off.

So, the hours on the ship slowly ticked by. A night full of dangerous waters and old shipwrecks merged into a light blue dawn full of hope and prayers.

And, Dragon Island.

The island was beautiful, to say the least. Soft, white sand edged the beaches, with nothing but clear waters washing the shoreline clean.

The island was mountainous, with a high peak in the far-off distance carving into the sky, while smaller trees and bushes coated the rest of the land. Kirishima could see the small, colorful specks of flowers and wild grasses where the sand faded into the dirt.

And that's where the dragons were.

Many distinct dragon species dotted the skies and the ground as the longboat came ashore; Gronckles, Deadly Nadders, Hideous Zipplebacks, and even the occasional Monstrous Nightmare.

Some of the dragons were fishing in the clear waters, rendering themselves full of fat fish. Others were scavengers, hunting down deer and elk further inland. And those that were full sat basking in the sun, soaking in the heat of the day from the warm rocks they laid on.

Crimson-colored eyes raked the sky, the water, and the land, but there was no sight of the green-toned Rumblehorn anywhere. Kirishima tried to keep his hopes up as the men prepared the ship for docking, but he couldn't help the feeling of his stomach sinking at no sight of Honey.

He tried to push off the nervousness and help his mates settle the ropes and unload the supplies before they set up camp. It was no easy task, skirting around the dragons and trying to find an unoccupied and central location where no one would burst into flames, but after a while, they found the perfect spot to set up.

They had to hike a good distance inland, as many dragons liked to nest on the beach, but they eventually found a quiet field with the cover of some tall pines as protection. As brave as the viking men were, there was always a minor fear of getting blasted by an angry Thunderdrum or Scauldron on the beach.

So the men set up tents and a main fire to cook their dinners and soon set off on their own paths to find the missing dragons.

Every dragon roar that hissed through the air made Kirishima's heart flutter, but there was still no sight or sound of his beloved Rumblehorn.

He recalled that when he found Honey, he was deep in the mountains, so he would set off for the tall peak that signified Dragon Island first thing the following morning.

The next morning, Kirishima gathered the most he could in his pack and started his hike deep into the heart of the island. Alone.

Many of the other men were missing their dragons too, but they figured that based on their dragons' personalities and species, they would be lower in altitude, more likely to be by the beach or lower forests.

So, the redhead picked his way through the underbrush on the outskirts of the camp, his heart pounding in his chest. He traveled as carefully and efficiently as he could while he hiked, the small pack on his back carrying a canister of water and a couple snacks, as the climb wasn't easy.

Up and up he climbed, the ground changing from lush, brown soil to rocky outcroppings, with loose stones underfoot. The stone was smooth under his boots, and Kirishima stumbled a few times and had to slow his pace down so as to not hurt himself.

Why am I doing this? Kirishima thought to himself as he rounded a bend leading to a flat clearing near the top of the peak. There was little grass, but he could see the mouth of a cave up ahead.

He was tired and sweaty, a thin sheen of sweat coating his entire body and dripping down his forehead. The sun was almost setting at this point, and Kirishima knew he wasn't going to make it back to camp tonight.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that he'd miss dinner, Kirishima focused his attention on the cave he saw in the distance up ahead.

Well, this could be it, he wonders as he makes his way over to the inlet. It was dark in the mouth of the cave, the sun's orange and pink rays only lighting up the very edge of the cave, but nothing deeper inside.

He slowly cranes his neck into the darkness, but the cavern was damp and quiet. When he doesn't see anything initially, a crestfallen sigh breaks past his lips as his crimson eyes trail to the ground.

Nothing.

But then, an ear-splitting roar sounds out, and Kirishima whips around just in time to see a flash of green armored skin, and he lunges into the bushes just outside of the cave as the scaled creature dives into the cave.

His heart racing in his chest, Kirishima peaks out of the bushes to try to see what just dove past him, but he couldn't make out a figure. It's silent, so he peaks around the edge of the cave entrance, where he had just been standing, to lock onto the unmistakable golden glow of a dragon's eyes.

Kirishima starts, "What the-", but is interrupted when the dragon turns to face him head-on, and a soft "Wait," falls from his parted mouth.

The redhead squints, trying to dig through his memory, and takes a hesitant step closer to the dragon. He slowly offers his hand, the tips of his fingers shaking ever so slightly, and lets his eyes flutter closed before standing perfectly still.

A beat passes. And then another one. And just as he thinks about opening his eyes to see if the dragon is still there, the smooth skin of a dragon's horn brushes against his hand.

A shaky breath falls from his lips as he feels the warm breath of the dragon puff against his face. Kirishima's crimson eyes gradually slide open, only to be met with the face of the dragon he so desperately missed.

"Honey!" he immediately calls out, lunging excitedly into the chest of the large green Rumblehorn. His muscular arms wrap around the neck of his beloved dragon, and he can feel Honey chitter underneath him in happiness, her eyes soft as she nuzzles at his back.

Kirishima does his best to keep his emotions under control, but he can't stop a stray tear or two from sliding down his cheeks. However, he rapidly pulls back from the hug when he hears a small cry from deeper into the cave.

He glances at Honey in worry and asks, "Did you hear that, girl? Sounds like someone's in trouble."

He untangles his body from around the large dragon, and picks his way around to her tail. Moving cautiously and with his hand on a knife in his belt, he plunges into the darkness of the cave.

It's dark for a minute, and then fresh air hits his cheeks, and it opens up into a wider den. The gentle cast of an orange glow can be seen dancing on the walls of the cave, but his attention is soon drawn away from that.

And it is pulled to the figure of a woman.

The woman was crouched over what he quickly identified as a baby dragon, her hair color warmed by the small fires in the edges of the den.

"Hold still, you little rascal," you mutter as you try to wrestle the baby Rumblehorn. He was attempting to slide out of your grasp and toward Honey, who had appeared from the cave tunnel.

Kirishima stood silently next to his dragon, almost blending in with the wall as he watched his, his hand relaxing from his knife as he watched you try to help the baby dragon.

You didn't notice the redhead as you called out to Honey, whose footsteps you heard, "Mama Dragon, you're back! This little one had a crack in his tooth and wouldn't let me look at-"

Your words trail off as you catch sight of the tall man standing next to Honey, and you instinctively reach for your blade strapped to your back, pushing the baby dragon behind you. A war cry falls from your lips as you draw your blade and you dash toward him, sword swinging straight toward Kirishima's head.

He's fast though, and reads the attack from across the room, easily ducking out of the way. Working on instinct, he grabs one of your arms, and folds it behind your back, pulling the blade out of the hand.

Since he was close to the wall when you attacked, he uses it to his advantage, pressing you into the cave wall with his hips and knee.

Pain blooms in your chest as the air left your lungs, your collarbones cracking against the hard stone. You can feel his larger frame and muscular chest push against your back, and you hiss in frustration at his simple move.

Kirishima takes his free hand and reaches up to pull the blade from your hand that was still grasping at your sword. In a swift motion, he throws it a couple of feet away, far enough away that you won't get it, but not too close to the dragons to be a threat.

He keeps you pressed against the wall like this, and you tried to struggle and get free, but it was no use.

"Who are you, and what are you doing with my dragon?"

Kirishima could feel you stiff under his touch at the harshness of his words, yet he remained quiet in wait for an answer. When you don't say anything, he sighs and repeats, "What are you doing with my dragon? She disappeared into thin air a little while ago, and now here she is."

You shift ever so slightly in grasp, a disgruntled look on your face as your cheek laid flat against the cool, damp wall of the cave. A quiet gasp falls from your lips as you back pops from the pressure he's applying with his hips and knee, and you can feel him loosen his grip ever so slightly.

Kirishima sighs again and reiterates, "Look, I don't want to hurt you or fight. I just want to take Honey home?"

"...You call Mama Dragon Honey? Wow, I can't imagine how she puts up with that," is what you spit out. Kirishima blinks in hurt at the harshness to your words, but a look of confusion passes over his features, not that you could tell.

"Ma- Mama Dragon?" he stutters, his grip completely relaxing and letting you free. He takes a step back, giving you space as his hands run over his face.

You groan in relief and shake out your arms before you grumble, "Yeah, Mama Dragon, didn't you know she was pregnant and carrying eggs?"

Kirishima's jaw drops, "HONEY WAS PREGNANT AND SHE LEFT ME?!" You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration at this stranger and you reply, "Yes. Sometimes it's hard to tell when a Rumblehorn is going to lay eggs because they are already built so wide."

You walk around Kirishima to your fallen sword, reaching down to pick it up from the stone. Kirishima's hand instantly falls to the knife on his belt, but he doesn't move as he watches you pat Honey on the chin before walking back over to the baby you were tending to.

"So... how many babies has Honey had then?" Kirishima asks quietly, walking over to Honey's side and gently rubbing at her face. His crimson gaze watches your every movement, waiting for any sign of hostility, but he didn't see any.

You turn back toward him, the baby you were working on in your arms. There is surprise lacing your features, and you shrug and say, "She laid 4 eggs, so now she has four babies. 3 females, 1 male."

Kirishima just nods, processing the new information. He points to the one you are holding and questions, "Which one is that?" You smile fondly down at the newborn dragon and say, "I call him Boulder, he's the only boy from the clutch, and he already thinks he's the strongest."

The little red-toned Rumblehorn just yawns in your arms, curling up for a nap. You just giggle down at him, walking over to the large wood-built nest near one of the fires.

Kirishima watches you set him gently down on the dried grasses, and he suddenly notices the other three dragon newborns curled up, asleep. He gazes in awe, and can't stop his feet as he walks over to stand next to you.

He is completely starstruck by the colors of their scales, and kind expressions on their faces as they cuddle up together. His mouth falls open before he stammers out, "I- I am so sorry for fighting you like that. All this time Honey's been away, and you've been taking care of her?"

You turn to face him, and you have to look up to catch the corner of his red gaze, but you nod in response. "Yes, I have been watching over Honey. This den isn't usually occupied because it's so far from the water, but I knew a special dragon must have chosen this den for a reason."

Your (colored) gaze flicks over to Honey, and with a gentle smile, you continue, "She is the first Rumblehorn I've seen in a few years. You are very lucky to have such a strong dragon at your side, Sir...?"

Kirishima just looks down at you, his eyes glazed over. In the time of your fight, and his whole world being flipped upside down at the factor his dragon left him to become a mother, he didn't realize how beautiful you were.

Your (colored) hair was pulled back into a couple of intricate braids that cascaded down behind your neck, a few stray pieces lingering to frame your face. There was a firmness to your eye that let him know your guard was still up, but he could see the kindness written on your features.

"Hello?" you repeat, "What can I call you?" Kirishima shakes his head back and forth for a moment, a warmth blooming on his cheeks as he chuckles and offers you his arm as he replies, "Sorry, this is all a lot to take in. Please, call me Kirishima."

You nod and reply, "Nice to meet you, Kirishima. Honey is an excellent mother and a very gentle dragon. I can't imagine how much training it has taken for her to be as good as she is."

The tall man shifts on his feet and glances over at Honey, who had made her way over to the other side of the nest and laid down. She had closed her eyes to rest as well, it seemed.

"To be honest, I really didn't do that much to train her," Kirishima started, "From the moment she hatched out when I was a boy, she always was the sweetest dragon. It's sort of how she got her name."

You just giggle at that, and Kirishima immediately finds your (colored) eyes, genuine happiness coating your features. Your giggling persists for a moment before you wave at him, "It's nothing, it's nothing, I swear. That's just a funny origin, that's all."

Kirishima just tuts and gestures toward you, "Well then, miss, what name can I call you? Especially if you think Honey's name is so ridiculous."

You get slightly shy at that moment, glancing down at your boots as if they were the most interesting thing at that moment. You shrug and mumble, "I'm just the caretaker for the dragons on this island, that is all."

Kirishima steps closer to you and insists, "Well, you must go by something," he feels butterflies bloom in his belly but he gushes, "You have a gorgeous face, I can only assume your name is equally as stunning."

You freeze at his words, and you swallow thickly as heat spreads from your cheeks to your ears, and down your neck. Kirishima seems to understand the weight of his words, and he shuffles back in embarrassment and stutters, "I- I, I only mean-"

"Y/n," you cut him off with a smile, glancing up at his obviously flustered appearance, "You can call me Y/n L/n of Dragon Island."

He dips his head in acknowledgment and replies, "Seems as though I was right... Miss Y/n." He tests your name out like it's delicate, and yet he revels in the way your name rolls off of his tongue.

It's silent for a moment before you point to the back of the cave, even further into the den, "Would you like to sit with me? I can explain more of what I do and know."

Kirishima opens his hand and points to the narrow opening and replies, "Lead the way, milady."

You and Kirishima talk through the night, conversations of Dragon Island, breeding season, and travels filling the late-night air. You told him of your place on the island; helping dragons that were sick or injured, tending to their young, and the general welfare of the sacred breeding place.

Kirishima, in turn, told you of his travels across the seas, all of the dragons he's encountered, and the people of his home. The conversation flowed so easily that it was hard to remember that the two of you had only met a few hours prior.

It had been silent between the two of you for a while, comfortable and peaceful.

"You should come to my homeland sometime," Kirishima murmurs quietly, his eyes gazing deep into the embers burning in front of the two of you.

You are quiet for a moment, and then you shake your head, "I couldn't. There is so much for me to do here year-round, and there are always dragons that need my help. I cannot leave."

Kirishima nods but doesn't say anything, but sits there and crosses his arms across his chest. Your (colored) gaze snaps over to him, gauging the contemplating look on his face.

He can feel the heat of your gaze on him, and a soft smirk rests on his lips as he then states, "Then I'll just have to come visit you then, right? So we can catch up and talk about Boulder, Honey, and the other babies?"

You mirror his smile and reply, "That would be lovely, Kirishima." He sighs and pokes at the fire with his boot before he asks, "Do you ever get lonely here? I mean you have the dragons, but I bet you hardly ever see anyone."

You feel the weight of his question more than he realizes. Yes, it does get lonely. Yes, I do crave connection and human attention. But my lifestyle cannot afford that.

All you can do is nod and whisper, "I do get lonely, Kirishima. More than you could ever know." The redhead's gaze is on you this time, your own eyes latched onto the dying flames of the fire.

He shifts from his wooden seat to stand next to your own, offering you his hand. You look up at him, vulnerable in a way you never would imagine with a stranger, yet he made you feel so comfortable.

"I get lonely too, Y/n. You don't deserve to be alone all the time. Please consider joining my village, or even coming to visit. The invitation will always be open for you," he whispers back.

He leans down slowly, placing a soft peck to the top of your head before retreating back into the main den where Honey and the babies were sleeping.

"W-wait!" you call out after him, your cheeks burning and your mind racing. He stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder back at you, waiting.

"D- do you really mean that?" you manage to choke out. He gives you another gentle smile and states, "Never been more sure in my life." And he walks down the hall as the dawn light starts to flood into the den.

The trek back down to the ship seemed to come quicker than the hike up the mountain. Maybe it was because of Kirishima riding down on Honey's back, or the way he had to chase Boulder and the dragon babies as they rolled down the grassy hills.

You bid him farewell at the mouth of the den, promising that you would see each other again. Neither of you discussed the kiss on your forehead, but there was tension in the air as his figure disappeared in the direction of the ocean.

You could feel your heart splintering at the thought of him leaving. You knew you didn't truly know him, but you could tell your body felt like it knew him, that your souls were somehow akin.

You didn't know what to do, so you let him walk away.

But then you heard a soft cry from the back of the cave, toward the edge of the nest you had helped Honey build. And there, sitting in the depths of the nest, was a tiny, and freshly hatched Rumblehorn baby,

You dug through the straw the find the remnants of the shell, and you gasp in disbelief that you somehow missed an egg that Honey laid.

Crap, crap, crap, you thought to yourself as you looked at the newborn in front of you. This little fellow really needs his mother, but I bet Kirishima and his mates have probably loaded up and left at this point. What do I do?

Another glance down at the newborn told you everything you needed to know. You needed to get to the water before their ship sailed off.

So you wrapped the baby in a spare shirt that you had, tucked him under your arm, and ran as fast as you could in the direction you knew Kirishima set off in.

Your lungs burned for air as you ran, your feet sliding on loose shale, your calves aching as you pushed your body to its limit. You could feel your arms growing weaker from the weight of the newborn, but you pushed yourself on, determined to find Kirishima before he left.

You ducked under low-hanging limbs and jumped over dense brush, swerving and dodging everything in your path. C'mon Kirishima, you think, Please wait. I know you don't want to leave yet, so please wait!

It seems like hours as you rush down the mountain, time somehow flying by and slowing down at the same time. You swore your heart was about to explode in your chest, but you were so close to the shoreline, you couldn't give up now.

But by the time you get to the white, sandy beaches, you can see the viking's longboat sailing into the horizon, and you can't stop the sob that rips itself from your throat. Your body crumples to the ground in sheer exhaustion, and you bring the small dragon into your arms to hug closely.

"I- I'm so sorry, little one," you hiccup out, tears streaming down your face as you pulled back to look at the little green Rumblehorn baby, "I couldn't get you back to your family in time."

It just peers up at you, curiosity and innocence emanating from it's sweet face. This only makes you cry harder, and you clutch the little dragon back to your chest.

You sit there in the sand for a few moments, blinking through the tears and emotion as you watch the ship float off into the distance.

That is, until you feel warm pressure on your shoulders, and when you look up, a tall figure is blocking out the morning rays of the sun.

"You're missing me already? I don't think gorgeous women like you should cry, Y/n," comes the voice.

A loud sob pulls past your lips, and you scramble up to crush Kirishima in a hug with one arm. You cradle the baby in the other, careful to not hurt him.

The tall redhead just chuckles and steps back at the force of your hug, but wraps his arms around you closely, holding you tight, "I've gotcha... I've gotcha," he whispers as you settle down.

You pull back a minute later, wiping the tears from your eyes, you punch him in the shoulder and yell, "You forgot something, dammit!"

Kirishima yelps in pain and shies away from you as you hold out the small baby Rumblehorn, and awe takes over his face as he cups the delicate dragon in his large hands.

"I didn't know there was another one," he mumbles as he glances back up at you, "Thank you." You roll your eyes and mutter, "That wasn't the thing you forgot, dummy."

In one swift movement, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips. Your mouth collides with his own a second later, and he can't help but let out a groan at the taste of tears on his tongue.

The kiss is short but sweet, and it's enough to send both of your minds into overdrive. You both pull back at the same time, staring blankly in shock at each other.

The moment is interrupted when Honey chuffs, nudging Kirishima to give her the last baby. He quickly sets the green-scaled baby on the ground before turning back to you.

"Now, where were we?"

311 notes · View notes

eemoo1o-tfrmoo · 8 months

Text

Random HTTYD Headcanons

Someone once tied together the Boneknapper and Death Song, saying that the former would hang around the game sites of the latter and then collect the bones and I agree with that so much. I’d love to re-find that post so I can credit the blog responsible because they are so, so real for this! I had to mention it because it’s such an under-appreciated take. (ETA: I found the original post here, by @dragonjadearts — thank you for this headcanon I think about it all the time.)

Changewings started to put their eggs in trees to deter Cavern Crashers from eating them.

Red Changewings are the ones that inhabit Changewing Island. Green Changewings are from further south.

Male Thunderdrums are actually the primary caretakers of young Thunderdrums. Both parents will look after and protect the eggs until they hatch but after they do the mother often leaves.

Additionally, Thunderdrums will also transport their eggs and/or hatchlings in their mouth.

Thornado and Skullcrusher have actually met. Thornado had gone out when Bing, Bang, and Boom were asleep and visited Berk, hoping to meet up with Stoick alone only to find another dragon by his chair. The encounter was awkward at first for all three parties, with Stoick trying to break the ice, but once the two dragons recognised what they had in common, they became very friendly and respecting of one another.

The Rumblehorn naturally hunts boars as its primary food source. As opposed to fishing for saltwater fish like other dragons, they also fish for freshwater fish like salmon.

Like the Submaripper and Shellfire, and the Skrill and Singetail, the Rumblehorn and Catastrophic Quaken are naturally opposing species.

Dark Deep was originally the home of the Catastrophic Quaken, not the Gronckle. Due to the sheer number of invading Gronckles, the Quaken was then mostly pushed out.

Gronckles are like the rabbits of the dragon world. They can reproduce from a young age and very often and with high egg counts.

Dragons like the Razorwhip, Timberjack, and Typhoomerang have shorter lifespans in comparison to other species.

Barb-shooting dragons grow their spikes like hair/teeth. The spines that are shot out out are ones that are knocked loose by new roots.

The more distinguishable the colours of each head, the older a Zippleback is.

Zipplebacks evolved from a mutation caused by inefficient embryo separation which means most if not all members of the species distantly share the same common ancestor.

Whip & Lash, Bucket and Mulch’s dragon, is actually female.

Bucket is related to the Thorstons.

The twins removed the S from the alphabet in Reign of Fireworms to annoy Snotlout.

The riders have contemplated who is most likely to turn into a Mildew-type, and most of them have come to the agreement that it would be Tuffnut. Chicken is his Fungus.

Mildew actually has a soft spot for Flystorm. Away from the knowing gazes of others he indulges in petting him and giving him fish, muttering “That’s nice,” as he would with Fungus.

Spitelout treats Kingstail better than anyone ever. As such all of his past methodology surrounding dragons is now in vain, and very hypocritical. (That sword analogy? How dare you compare ol’ Kingstail to that, boyo?)

Fishlegs is actually an only child (he’s always stricken me as one and it boggles me if he isn’t). Those kids he teaches in the Gronckle Scouts are actually his younger cousins. They call him ‘uncle’ due to him babysitting a lot and the difference in their ages. Fishlegs has a lot of cousins.

Fishlegs’ mother, Termagant, owns a Snaptrapper by the name of Arrogance, Innocence, Patience & Conscience. This means that Meatlug has older brothers (and a sister. Technically. Allegedly.). At first they were a bit too mischievous/privy with one another for her liking, making them seem like they were hanging up in her a bit, but they eventually got used to one another.

And yes, she makes all six of her children crab cakes.

The Monstrous Nightmare that Valka saves in HTTYD 2 is the one that took Gobber’s hand.

The Night Fury and Light Fury evolved via something similar to the Peppered Moth Evolution. Whichever one was the original species, however, is still unknown.

Gustav is allergic to peanuts.

Fanghook actually has a fear of setting things on fire.

Hiccup sees a lot of his younger self in Gustav, but it frustrates him that Gustav takes a bit more after Snotlout sometimes.

Gustav’s mother actually wanted to call him “Hiccup” (being the runt) but didn’t want to upstage the chief or confuse people, so she chose “Gustav” (meaning god’s staff or popular guest) to be ironic.

Snotlout was originally proud to have Gustav model himself after him, but when growing up and maturing on the Edge he realised that Gustav was or could be reckless because of it and started to resent him for being a “cheap copy” of him.

Hookfang has a soft spot for Gustav, mostly when he was younger. Since Gustav got Fanghook, his patience has been less withstanding.

The dragon with the least patience for kids is actually Stormfly. Just after would be either Barf & Belch or Hookfang, but by a long shot. Hookfang holds more patience for younger kids than older ones.

Spitelout for some reason shows more outwards appreciation towards Gustav, but argues with him over being leader of the A Team.

112 notes · View notes

doofus-and-dragons · 26 days

Text

As promised, I'm back on my httyd bullshit. Here's a list of things that don't make sense unless you watch the shows (idgaf if they're cannon or not, they should be for the background of small details!!!)

1. Grump.

Grump is Gobber's Hotburple in Httyd 2 and 3. But not in httyd 1. So this begs the question: Where and when did Gobber get Grump? The answer? Race to the Edge S3 E12, "Last Auction heros." Gobber and Snotlout go to Viggo's dragon auction undercover, and Grump is one of the dragons for sale. Without that episode, Grump is just a dragon they shoved into the second movie for shots and giggles.

2. Inferno

Inferno is a blade that Hiccup created himself that lights itself on fire using monstrous nightmare gel and can eject and ignite zippleback gas. To the casual watcher, he just showed up with it in the second movie. But Inferno is ALSO from rtte! Inferno's first form comes from S3 E9, "Tone Death." Hiccup then works further on it, but Inferno as we know it is actually based on a version of the blade that VIGGO GRIMBORN, the villain for most of RTTE, made.

3. The Deadly Nadder(? Looks like a nadder) plushie

Although this is a small detail that is only seen in the background of the later Httyd movies, it is still a detail that first appears within the SHOW'S cannon lore. According to S1 E17 of Riders of Berk, the toy was made by Valka when Hiccup was a baby. However, tiny Hiccup was so scared of the toy that he threw it in the ocean. Trader Johann managed to get ahold of it, and the episode was about the riders trying to save with mystery item because something happened to Johann's ship. I don't remember what. Something about smoldering smoke breaths, I think.

4. Skull Crusher

Skull Crush is Stoick the Vast's Rumblehorn in Httyd 2 and 3, who is later inherited by Eret, son of Eret upon Soick's death in Httyd 2. But again, where and when did Stoick get Shullcrusher? Because it seems like he just appeared. Well, I have that answer! Skull Crusher first appears in S1 E8, "Crushing It." In the episode, the gang is tormented by a Rumblehorn who keeps destroying their camp. Hiccup asks his Dad for help, and his Dad is able to train and befriend the wild dragon.

5. Hiccup's flight suit

In Httyd 2 and 3, Hiccup has/is trying to perfect a flight suit attached to his armor. Now, this could just be seen as Hiccup being a silly inventor off-screen, but it ACTUALLY shows up in Race to the Edge! S1 E12 "The Next Big Sting" actually opens with Hiccup trying out his first design for the flight suit. He does it many times, each time having to be saved by Toothless before he crashes into some form of rock/sea stack (much like in Httyd 2).

6. Hiccup's aging

I saw a post either on here or on tiktok the other day where someone was complaining about how different hiccup looked between 1 and 2. In 1, he's like...what...13?15? Where as He's about 20-21 ish by Httyd 2. To fans who don't obsess over something and consume all the media like I do, this would be a bit of a shock. I mean, you go from this:

Immediately to this:

Where as fans of the shows had this progression:

Much easier to swallow.

7. The Bewilderbeast

This is, again, something that could be choked up to the writers wanting more than just 7 species of dragons. HOWEVER, this dragon is actually the center point of the last few episodes of Race to the Edge. We learn a little bit about the dragon over the corse of the last season, which takes place just a year or two before Httyd 2.

9. VALKA HERSELF

I watched Race to the Edge long before I watched Httyd 2, so I had 0 clue the Hiccup's mom was still alive or what her mask looked like. But in the last bit of the last episode of race to the edge, guess what we see?

VALKA TAKING THE BEWILDERBEAST EGG.

In conclusion, these show's should be considered cannon to the HTTYD universe just as much as fucking Homecoming should or what ever. These are amazing and fill in so many continuity

15 notes · View notes

one-httyd-a-day · 5 months

Text

[Pinned post]

Read before you send a request!

2024/01/01

Hello! :D

2024 is the year of the dragon! I figured there couldn't possibly be a better year for me to try this, so I'm throwing my hat in the ring and starting a HTTYD themed one-drawing-a-day art blog, heavily inspired by @onewolfaday and @onedragonperday.

I will be drawing one HTTYD species every day, and requests will be periodically open in case you want me to draw a specific species for you :)

With that being said...

Requests are currently CLOSED!

Commissions are open!

I hope my fellow HTTYD fans will appreciate this blog, and I hope you'll stick around <3

Addendum: There is a gap in the numbers between Dragon #52/53 (Toothless vs The Alpha) and Dragon #59 (Sea Shockers). I took a short break from posting dragon art due to some irl events, so the numbers between 53 and 59 are missing to reflect that :)

Addendum 2: It's possible I won't be posting any dragon art on fridays to give myself a break and prevent myself from burning out. I make up for this by posting 2 dragons on the following saturday <3 There are exceptions sometimes, but it's normal for me to skip fridays.

More info under the cut!

🤎 Dragons I will be drawing:

Dragons from all three of the movies

Canon dragons (Toothless, Stormfly, Cloudjumper etc)

Dragons from the spinoff shows (Riders/Defenders of Berk and Race to the Edge)

Dragons from the HTTYD games (Rise of Berk, School of Dragons and Titan Uprising, hybrids and crossbreeds included!!)

Dragons requested by followers

🤎 Dragons I will not be drawing:

Dragons from The Nine Realms (this is a personal preference, no offence meant to fans of the show)

Dragons from the books (I want to focus on the movie franchise)

Fanmade species

🤎 Dragons you've requested:

If you sent an ask requesting a dragon: I won't be answering until I can post the drawing along with it. I keep the asks in the inbox so I won't forget about them.

If you sent me a DM: Hi, thank you for being here and reaching out! :) Rest assured I will be tagging you once I post your dragon.

I love you and I appreciate you being here. Thank you for following my silly dragon project 🤎

[HTTYD OC blog: @wardenofdragons]

🤎Dragons I've already done🤎

You can search for them on the blog by searching "httyd [dragon species]" or "rob [dragon name]" for the Rise of Berk ones.

You can also search dragons based on their serial number. Ex. "dragon 006", "dragon 021", etc.

Dragons in order of posting:

#httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd fanart #pinned post #I can't guarantee that I'll be able to keep up the posting #but I will be trying my best!!!#please wish me luck

29 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 1 year

Note

For your consideration: Hob living two drastically different lives in the Waking and the Dreaming. In the Waking, he is as we saw him in canon - respected and beloved professor owning the New Inn on the side. In the Dreaming though, he is thrown right back into a fucked-open body plugged full of eggs from Dream's nightmare sea, and writhing naked and beautiful under absentminded but no less possessive tentacles.

Hob no longer dreams like a normal human. His dreams are a single continuous experience that merely pause when he wakes and politely waits for him to fall asleep again to continue. Hea can't nap or doze in his office anymore, unless he wants to walk around with a wet underwear for the rest of the day. Every time he falls asleep, he's right back into the greedy grasp of Dream to continue where they left off - whether it's mid-thrust or at the edge of cumming.

Sometimes Hob doesn't even know whether he woke in middle of something or not, because it's just as likely that he blacked out from pleasure and stimulation. The only clue he gets is that Dream likes to rub up against him all over in ecstasy after he rejoins from the Waking, crooning out from behind rows of monstrous teeth how much he missed him.

-🥭

This. This is peak Dreamling content ok. Hob gets to continue his fun little life of being Mr Normal McNormalface (occasionally with cute goth boyfriend at his side). And nobody has to know that each time he goes to sleep, he's thrust (literally) into the spiciest sex dream any human could ever have.

His body in the waking world definitely goes through some stuff as a result. He's more sensitive to touch, ten times more horny, and sometimes he has to summon Dream during his lunch break to get some relief. He's constantly thinking about Dream and everything they do together in the dreaming. Everyone says that he looks so much more laid back (they mean well fucked, really. And he is).

And Dream... deserves to have time off. Being an eldritch sex monster is the perfect vacation for him! He's still technically doing his job, so there's no need to feel guilty. But he gains a whole lot of pleasure and love and healing from being with Hob in this constant loop of extreme fucking. He has Hob totally at his mercy which is exactly what he needed.

Hob loves it when he drops off to sleep and enters Dream’s realm and feels his body sink into whatever position they were in when he woke up. Whatever might be happening, Dream always wraps his arms (or tentacles. or claws) around Hob and holds him closer, and Hob just knows exactly how loved and cherished he is. And then they get right back to railing each other <3

#🥭 anon #dreamling #the sandman #nsft

164 notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 2 years

Note

I really love the letters, they're so domestic and sweet. What about s/o leaving one for them and the twins' reaction to it? It'd just melt Ingo's heart, I'm sure of it.

▲Ingo▼

● The Subway Boss awoke to an empty bed on his day off. This was a truly horrifying sight to behold, as he expected his morning to be filled with cuddling and sweet conversations between you and him. Your absence was something that forced him from bed to search around your shared home. Maybe you had gone to the bathroom or headed into the kitchen for a variety of reasons. Each location was struck down. Where were you? Just as he went to make himself a cup of coffee to help wake him up, he spotted a letter. Picking it up, he read what the sheet held for him.

● “My sleepy husband, it has come to my attention that we're out of eggs and milk this morning as I tried to make you breakfast in bed. Alas, if you're reading this, it means my plans were ruined, and I have yet to return from my run down to the nearest convenience store. Please understand I tried my best :)

Either way, I love you and can't wait to see you again and return to our bed. The temperatures tell me it's not going to be a fun outing, so I'll be appreciating a nice warm hug from my sweet heater of a husband. Your sleeping face is always so sweet to see… You look so relaxed. I hope I make you feel like that, too.

Love, your tired spouse.”

● Ingo pressed the letter is his chest as he smiled to himself. Love… husband… warm. All the words swirled in his mind like wine on a taster's tongue. You were so sweet to him; Ingo simply felt unworthy to have married such a kind person. He fell into a slight daze of emotions, swirling with blissful feelings. Then he snapped of it. There was little he could make with eggs or milk to surprise you with, but when you returned he would be sure to help you cook.

▽Emmet△

○ Emmet opened his lunch box with an eager smile. He had won all of his battles today and has a few multi battles with his brother. No trains had been delayed and there were few commuter complaints. It was a good day, about to be made better by cooking from his spouse. He knew there had to be a sweet hidden away in it for him, which excited him endlessly. Reaching in, however, he felt a sheet of paper under his fingers. Pulling it out, he read it.

○ “My clingy Emmy, did you know that you cuddled me last night like you were trying to suffocate me? You were truly trying to end me. I think it's partly why I had some strange nightmare where you were an eldritch creature that was borrowing the form of Ingo for who knows what reason. The other half was that horror movie we watched before bed.

Needless to say, you do, in fact, not have eight eyes nor teeth that appear to be all canines. Which means in safe to say, I love you. Even if you were some monstrous being, I'm quite sure I still would. You're soooo cuddly and cute, while weirdly mature and confident. There's just so much to take in with you, and that's fun. I'm glad that we get to have so much happy time together…

Love, your haunted spouse.”

○ Emmet giggled at your letter as he ate the flan you packed in the lunch box. What a goofy letter. Him? A monster? Only certain times in bed. If you would let him. Everything else, however, made his chest warm. You thought he was cute and fun? That's literally all he could ask for (outside of one other verrry important thing)! The lovely dessert you made tasted much sweeter with sugar of your words. Emmet would have to repay with you with a happy time later.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader

208 notes · View notes

localsharkcryptid · 11 months

Text

"The Vampiric Bloodletter"

"Out of all the dragons I've seen and studied, along with the one's I've only heard of in passing conversation, the Bloodletter wasn't one I thought truly existed. Tales of a bright red dragon with ten eyes that drank blood...? Seemed too much like an old story to scare children but it seems this nesting year at the colony has proven me wrong.

I noticed the new egg amongst a clutch of Monstrous Nightmare eggs, an odd oblong shape with a dark red shell amongst the pale orange-pink eggs certainly stood out. Moving the egg wasn't an option so I left it. Come hatching day I kept a close eye on the nest, only to find an entirely unique dragon to hatch with the Monstrous' brood. At first I figured it was a case of hybridism but that theory was dropped quickly, after all just one hybrid offspring in a nest of six didn't make sense. Not to mention the tiny-tooth's features, ten eyes that all were a dark black, unique extra digits that I assume are opposable to a degree and a notable blade on the end of it's tail.

So I can conclude that the Bloodletter is in fact a living and breathing dragon species, a colony or nest parasite from what I can tell but also it's behavior is still unique. From what I have observed the nestling has been acting like a Monstrous Nightmare, mimicking their vocal calls and behaviors which is fascinating. For now I see no need to try and relocate the dragon, nor do I think it's surrogate mother would allow me and I personally would like to keep my good record with her.

This will at least give me time to study it and hopefully pull together some proper information, since I fear the number of these dragons may only be in single digits... I've also noted while looking through some other old local legends that the Bloodletter shares some shocking resemblance to the few descriptions of the Lycanwing... I can't help but wonder if they're connected somehow, but that's research for another time." - Excerpt from "The Nature of Dragons", an extensive series of books and journals by a man named Salamander.

-----

Class: Mystery

Size: 6 to 7 feet tall, with a wingspan of 10-11 feet at Broadwing stage - Titanwings are roughly 12 to 14 feet tall with a 20-22 foot wingspan.

Preferred Food: Dragon blood or incredibly fresh meat along with specifically certain organs of most creatures.

Status: Critical - Maybe only a handful of individuals exist on the surface world, that or they are just really good at staying away from people.

The Vampiric Bloodletter is noted for it's vibrant colors and unique features that assist with defending itself and securing it's specialized diet, due to the low amount of sightings and encounters little is truly known about them by humans. They are parasites in truth, spending a lot of time in flocks or colonies with other species so they can feed easily and also mimicking the dragons around them in terms of mannerisms for survival.

Their numerous eyes negates any blindspot they would normally have, along with this a forked tongue and heat sensing pits along their upper lips makes for the perfect tracking equipment. They have opposable digits on all their limbs that are topped with claws that are much like switchblades, used for further opening the bites they leave on other dragons or for defense - same to be said about the blade on their tail.

It's vibrant coloration is a classic animal warning system of "I'm toxic, stay away!". Seeing as they possess a highly potent venom which actually changes throughout their lives.

Tiny-Tooth to Shortwing: They can use this venom as a projectile to blind much like spitting cobras and generally deter threats to them. It's noted that it also stings if it makes contact with human skin. It has mild anticoagulant properties when administered via a bite along with slight numbing, think vampire bats.

Broadwing: The venom glands develop fully, producing a highly anticoagulant hemotoxin that causes numbing and disorientation even causing dragons to become incredibly drowsy. In humans it causes severe hallucinations, supposedly making one think that they're turning into a dragon.

Titanwing: Not much changes aside from more potency and the ability to even render some dragons unconscious for a certain amount of time after being bitten. Though at this stage they can afflict humans with something much worse, it's unknown how exactly it works but if a human is bitten by a Titanwing Bloodletter there is a chance they will be afflicted with the curse that is becoming a Lycanwing - if they survive the initial bite and the first shift that is...

----

WOO! Done at last!!

The Vampiric Bloodletter is one of my very few fanmade httyd species and I love how they came out!! Also if you couldn't tell these guys are my explanation for the Lycanwing legend, basically these guys are the ones that turn people to Lycanwings and somewhat go off of the description of the one in the story told by Gobber in RTTE. I have some more notes on them so uh if anyone has questions I will gladly elaborate on my fellas!

Also I will say: Anyone is free to make one of these fellas just please credit me! The lineart of the image is under the cut and can be used as a base.