A mult-muse RP blog featuring Jaune Arc and Hiccup Haddock III from RWBY and How to Train Your Dragon respectively. Multverse, crossover and OC friendly.
Here’s some PREGSTRID for everyone who requested it!! I had so many of you ask for some actual pregstrid “scenes” and I’m still technically working on those, but in the meantime here’s some little sketches. (And don’t think I’ve forgotten the concept in the fourth panel where they’re older 😈 that 3rd kid is still on my radar) (can’t let toothless’s family outnumber the haddocks)
And Bonus: (for those of you who also wanted some more RTTE early Zephyr au)…
A/N: Guys. It's been so long. I don't even know why or what this is other than random Hiccstrid fluff that spawned from my brain just because. It's been SO. LONG. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.
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Hiccup had always been a deep thinker. He realized his mind was just different from as early as he could remember. The rest of his tribe often found themselves preoccupied with the what and how of the day, while he was much concerned with questions of why and how come. Those were not questions becoming of a Norseman on a besieged island. after all. He grew accustomed to the lifted brows and confused stares often sent his way.
As a young child, it was unsettling to exist outside the norms that he could not seem to follow, despite his best efforts. As an adolescent, apart from the loneliness of being the odd man out in such formative years, he found he did not much care that his mind worked differently than everyone else’s. At the very least, he strung multiple intelligent thoughts together, even in dire times. Indeed, in must be better to have more rattling around in one’s skull apart from “fight, stab, kill.” Someone had to ask unexpected questions to get the unexpected answers. Like peace with dragons.
That had been most unexpected, and so he would never apologize for thinking differently again.
If nothing else, he hoped the gods appreciated his efforts to understand the world on a different level than most. Endless streams of prayers and beseeching for wants and needs must be empty and tiresome to immortal beings. Did anyone else every stop to consider why the gods were, not simply what they were and what they could do for the people?
Did Nótt gain anything by bringing the night, or was her intent just to keep balance? Did she know the number of stars in the sky, and did they all have names beyond the knowledge of mortal man? Did the gods care for the beings of creation or was mankind their reluctant charges? Did they care for wild beings like dragons, and did they have favorites? Nótt was the goddess of night, after all, so she must like Night Furies, and—
“Hiccup?” Astrid asked from what seemed so far away.
“Hm?” Hiccup replied, coming back down from musings in the starry expanse above them.
He and Astrid lie on a grassy cliffside overlooking the windward side of Berk’s rocky shore as the sea churned tirelessly beneath them. Once wrested from his thoughts, the sound of the night roared to the forefront of his mind again: their dragons frolicked among the trees and underbrush behind them, sounding like thunder to heads resting on earthen pillows. The night sky above them was clear, and the innumerable stars stretched out unimpeded for miles. The ocean breeze was strong and relentless, blowing about hair, rippling clothes, and bending blades of grass in wild frenzy. The salt air cut through layers of woolen tunic and knitted woad to cool the skin underneath on an otherwise warm summer night.
“Where were you, just now?” Astrid asked, rolling onto her side to face him.
Her braid was bunched up on her forearm, trapped beneath her cheek as she now rested her head off the ground. Her eyes held no judgment, and the question was soft in a way she so often was not. Her free hand fell upon the grass between them, closer to his body than it was to her own, noncommittal as rested there.
“I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” he admitted. His gazed flickered toward the night sky, “Up there.”
Astrid frowned. Her hand tightened into a loose fist and withdrew by a couple of inches. “Oh. Did you want to leave already? We can call the dragons over and—”
He reached for her hand. Her fingers went slack again beneath his. He said, “No, no. That’s not what I meant.” In that serene moment, lying on the grass and stargazing beside her was preferable to flying, which he could scarcely believe. He hyperextended his neck to watch the dragons play behind them as he continued, “Besides, Toothless looks like he is having a good time here. So am I.”
“Lost in thought, huh?” She replied. He felt her hand shift under his until his palm rested in hers. Her fingers twitched but remained open.
He glanced and her, but her attention was fixed on their hands.
“You’re always thinking,” she teased, scrunching her nose playfully—and he found himself thinking how peculiar it was that such a simple, benign gesture as the intentional crinkling of one’s features was so endearing. “Does it ever get tiring?”
He grinned. “Depends on what I am thinking about. Or whom.”
Their eyes met and he found it hard to breathe. How odd it was that eyes could be disarming, rendering one flustered by no other merit than color and intensity. That shade of blue was not fair—not when focused on him like that, without warning, unwavering. She did not have to touch him to make his heart race and send his already busy mind reeling. But, of course, she was doing both at once. Gods help him, he was but one mortal boy of seventeen.
When she said nothing further, he dared to elaborate, to fill both mind and mouth with something coherent and harmless. Or so he hoped.
He said, “Okay, so thinking about my dad and all of his expectations—now, that’s exhausting. But dragons? Not so much.”
“What about all your inventions?” she asked; and her fingers shifted, entwining with his.
While that simple gesture might arrest all thought in some, or arouse no further consideration in others, his mind when into overdrive accosting him with intrusive thoughts he did not need at that moment, over the innocent holding of another’s hand—but it was her hand, in his. Certainly, he would have benefitted from a more constructive thought ringing louder than the realization of just how warm her skin felt. Or a more urgent whisper above the desire to feel more of it.
He grasped at a higher thread than the primal currents seeping through, and said, “Sure, that can be draining sometimes. But in a good way. I like to build things—create things.” Memories of doubt and annoyance from the faces of others arose unbidden at the recollection of his earlier inventions. They melted away into faces of excitement and curiosity for his newer work. He frowned and added, “I’d like to think I’m being useful now.”
She squeezed his hand and replied, “Way more than useful, and you know it. Don’t be so modest.”
He turned onto his side so they were facing one another. One corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. “Then I won’t. I’m pretty damn smart, I guess.”
Astrid let out a “Ha!” and pulled her hand free to push his shoulder until he relented and let the momentum force him onto his back again.
He pressed his fingertip to his left temple. “This works overtime, whether I want it to or not.”
Astrid sat up beside him. As she shifted her position, the space between them further diminished. Her legs were out straight and she leaned back somewhat, supporting her weight on her hands.
“So, what do you think about to relax then?” she asked, looking out and the boundless black sea in front of them.
Hiccup began ticking off categories with his fingers. “Flying, Berk’s better qualities,” he answered, “Toothless and Sharpshot, too.”
Astrid rolled her eyes, but her face broke into a warm grin despite herself. “Mm, yes, dragons. Of course,” she murmured.
He chuckled, more for that predictable response than anything, “Okay, okay, stop that. You asked and I answered,” he said, placed his hand idly on her knee.
The silence that followed was comfortable. Just the two of them, enjoying the rush of the ocean as it beat against the rocks far below them, the wind whistling up the cliffs to weave between the trees. The gulls had retreated for the night, and their squawking was replaced by the serenade of midsummer crickets beneath a canopy of stars. No thought was needed to drink it in. Words, to an even lesser extent.
Still, one thought swirled about in Hiccup’s brain with such persistence that it pulled him away from the tranquility of the night around them. Other thoughts dimmed in comparison. The thrumming in his brain grew louder until there was naught but this single idea, caught in his throat and threatening to choke him. The prudence of giving voice to such a thought was secondary to the need of his brain to expel it lest it consume him.
He took a deep breath, shattering their shared and beautiful silence with an uncertain but resounding, “I also think a lot about you.”
Astrid’s breath caught, but she said nothing as she considered him behind a placid, impenetrable countenance. A simple phrase now hung above them like the stars.
Hiccup closed his eyes and cursed himself for the foolish notion that full transparency was ever a good idea at such a moment. He sighed, waiting for the rebuke, the rejection, the mockery, or the kindly jest of a well-meaning but platonic friend. Many different scenarios flashed in his mind, competing for the most probable outcome, followed by equally many ways in which he might try to talk himself out of the hole he just jumped headlong into.
But the one response he did not anticipate manifested in a soft question, posed startlingly closer to his ear than he expected. “What do you think about when you think of me?”
Hiccup’s eyes shot open. Astrid was now lying back down beside him; her hands folded on her abdomen as she stared up into the open sky. She would not look at him, but at such close proximity he could see the flush in her fair cheeks and noticed the faintest drag of her bottom lip between her teeth.
Though his own thoughts were noisy and numerous enough, he wished in that moment he could read her mind. Was there a torrent in her to match his own? If so, straightforward answers were often the most effective solution to cut through a mess of questions.
He, too, turned his attention back to the starry sky, fearing he would try to pick every possible thought from her minute expressions as he spoke.
“I think about how you were the first person to ever really believe in me—the me that I was, and that I am now. Not some version of me that you wanted instead," he said.
A memory of Astrid bolstering his courage in the tunnel of the arena came to mind. She supported him then, when no one else would have; and she supported him again when he thought all was lost, when he had been the architect of his own misery. Dragon gone, father gone, all favor among hist people gone. Yet she was there lifting him up again, and she had been there ever since.
“Go on…," she murmured.
Truth be told, he succeeded that day with the Red Death in no small part because of the faith Astrid had in him. All that followed was as much her victory as it was his. The sweetest of all being that he now had a confidant, a partner, and a stalwart friend. He thought of this often but could never tell her. He feared she would think him ridiculous. He never imagined she might reciprocate. There was a thousand different ways he could think of that she might express her disinterest.
But now she was asking point blank, and all his reasons for keeping those innermost thoughts to himself seemed to trickle through his fingers like sand.
He continued, “I think about how much I like spending time with you. I’ve spent so many years being by myself, but it’s I can hardly remember them now. I just…picture you.”
When he thought of flying, something that brought him unparalleled joy, it was all the better if she was beside him. If he was stuck working in the forge, it was less tedious if she stopped by to chat. Her laugh, her smile—even her playful little jabs and punches—brought bursts of color to life on a dreary rock in a frigid, gray sea.
She turned, her blue eyes drawing him in, reflecting the starlight overhead. “What else?”
But what else could he say? There were far too many heartfelt yet rambling answers to such a direct question.
Indeed, when he had a grievance to unburden, he sought her out above all. Not simply for her counsel, but because she would not hesitate to call him out if he was being unreasonable. When he had an idea that excited him, she was the first person he told. Not only to augment his own happiness but to pull him back down to earth if his ideas were too lofty or unrealistic. Her pragmatism balanced his idealism. His dreams freed her from the harsh monotony of small, northern, weather-beleaguered island.
She was his sunlight when the season turned, and the days grew short and cold. All of his hopes for the future featured her prominently.
He took a deep breath. “Astrid, there’s so much I want to say to you, but if I do it would change things between you and me. There are things I could say that I couldn’t take back, and—”
Lips pressed against his stifling the rest of that thought. His hands came up but froze inches from her shoulders. He could not breathe; he forgot how. For the first time in his life, there were no coherent thoughts, only sensation. She had kissed him before, but those were quick pecks of gratitude. This was different, warm and lingering.
Just as quickly as it had started, she pulled back. Her lips were parted, and her face was a deeper shade of pink. Both of them were silent and breathless, staring at one another, giving opportunity for a tidal wave of anxieties to pour into the kiss's wake: why did she do that? Was that her way of confessing her feeling? Maybe it meant nothing and he was filling in the silence with his own wishful thinking. Why was it over so fast? Should he have responded better? Was he supposed to finish that sentence that she had abruptly ended?
She remained leaning over him, partially shrouding them from the stars with her thick braid and long, loose strands of blonde. He could not see much in the darkness but her, so close. Nothing else mattered in that moment anyway.
“Do you ever have thoughts like that?” she almost whispered.
He could see there were thoughts now raging behind her eyes too.
“All the time."
She smiled and pressed her forehead to his. If he could somehow open his mind to her then and there, flood her with all he felt about her, and him, and them—well, if she did not drown in the rush then she would never need to ask after his heart again. She would know, without a doubt, that she already had it.
But she could not read his mind and was honestly all the better for it. He would just have to tell her and show her—demonstrate any and all affection in whichever way she needed; and that was a thrilling a prospect.
"So, what are you thinking now?" she asked.
"Why don't I just show you this time?" he replied, brushing her hair out of the way, holding the loose bits in place at the base of her head, behind her ear.
Whatever crossed her mind then remained unspoken. She relented to his guidance, sinking deep into his kiss when he pulled her close. With body to body and chest to chest, there was no room left for doubt and second guessing anymore—and for the second time that evening Hiccup thought of nothing else at all.
Arkos kid: My mommy won't let you get away with this.
White Fang Member 1: Big fucking whoop! We beat up Nora Valkyrie and she's strong as shit!
Arkos kid: Yeah? So did my mom!
White Fang Member 1: BY HERSELF?!
Arkos Kid: Yeah!
White Fang Leader:......oh my God, your mother is Pyrrha Nikos. OH MY GOD YOU MORONS STOLE PYRRHA NIKOS' KID?! HOW?! HOW DID YOU STEAL PYRRHA NIKOS KID?!
White Fang Member 2: Well first we beat up her husband.
Posting old fanart from 2022 that I did (goddamn) because it was the last time I felt like I created something wonderful.
I've lost my spark since then and I've been trying my hardest to get it back. I think it's starting to come back, but it's nowhere near as intense or passionate. Hopefully soon. <3
Im back in my HTTYD phase. This movie is just way too good. The writing is flawless and the character acting choices in the animation is peak. And dont even get me started on the soundtrack. The music in this movie is so incredibly good! Its big and bold but also soft and sweet. Its so good at conveying the emotions of the movie and I get so emotional when I listen to it.
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