I Would Like To Take A Moment To Ponder On The Fact That Hiccup's Hair Was Braided BEFORE He And Astrid

"can i still catch up to you, izuku?" yeah that one hurt

It happened spontaneously, but I love AU. So… Avatar Hiccup. Hiccup considered himself an ordinary person before meeting Toothless. (Dragons can be equated to spirits, i mean relationships between people and them). Then he discovered his talent as an airbender and Toothless became his teacher. Later, other talents were discovered, which made it clear that Hiccup was an avatar.

Astrid became his waterbender teacher. Snotlout was an adept of firebender, but he sincerely did not understand how to teach, because he himself used magic on a subconscious level. Fishlegs is an earthbender, but he did not go beyond the amateur level and could not become a teacher. The twins are always on their own wave. Ruffnut is a master in airbending and can perform techniques with clouds of gas, while Tuffnut is not a master, but is ready to set fire to the gas with his sparks at any moment. The twins always come in a set.

Brothers Grimborn! Lord of Fire Viggo. The aesthetics of blue flame and lightning were created for him. So I couldn't resist. The hottest flame and deadly techniques of lightningbending made him the most terrible opponent for the young avatar, but in the future, he will become the teacher of fire magic for Hiccup. I endowed Riker with explosion magic, as for me, it suits him perfectly. An explosive mixture of rage and bloodlust.

Berserkers! Remembering Viggo's words about how the berserkers in ancient times lured the Skrills with metal, I thought about a tribe practicing metalbending. Dagur discovered his talent for earth magic much later, including metal. I like to think that Dagur could be a threat to the avatar even as an ordinary person, relying on his ingenuity and physical strength. Heather is a master of earth and metal magic, she could well become Hiccup's teacher in this matter.

hiccstrid redraw :)

tysm for 200 followers!!

he's so real

you know shits getting real when the ending credit colours are dull

Ruby Hey, I need your advice.

Nova Yeah?

Ruby How did you know you were in love with Adrian?

Nova IM IN LOVE WITH ADRIAN???

Oh yeah there's a part 2 of the horse desensitizing that I love.

🐎: Hey what's with that tiny predator, the one you're hold- WOAH WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS IT UP SO HIGH

The person I reblogged this from is awesome as fuck.

gabriel better do my favorite twink (snotlout) justice or I'm sueing

Kintsugi

Shoji x reader, meet-cute feat. angst

(warnings: harassment, heteromorph discrimination, past abuse)

The station was nearly empty. It wasn't unusual, out in the boonies of Fukuoka. But after living in the city for so long, the quiet had become unfamiliar.

Anywhere else, Shoji would have found the fresh air and birdsong peaceful. But out here, it just felt like waiting for something bad to happen.

He didn't even tell his closest friends the real reason for this trip home. If he did, they'd insist on supporting him. They would mean well, but it was easier this way, not having to look out for anyone else. Who knows how the villagers would react if he came back with more freaks.

And, it's not like Mezo really needed his friends there to share in his grief. This was more for closure. When he cried at his grandfather's funeral, the tears were borne of relief, much to his shame.

The wounds on Mezo's face still ached when he moved his mouth to talk or chew. So, he learned how to make more parts with his quirk. Instead of just making mouths for fun or company as he had when he was very little, he added vocal cords, then a rudimentary esophagus. It was difficult, a lot of trial and error. But the payoff proved it had been a worthwhile use of his time.

Mezo sat at the dinner table with his family. The mask his parents had given him covered the more substantial bandages. He resented knowing that it was there so no one had to look at those reminders of his torn visage. At the same time, there was an undeniable comfort to wearing the thing. A shield between himself and the hateful world.

The stitches pulled when he smiled under the mask, but he couldn't help the feeling of elation at eating solid food without pain for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, the sight of his new, unorthodox method of mastication had mixed reactions.

Mom pointedly ignored it, ever reluctant to disturb the peace. Grandpa was quietly side-eyeing the display, giving a difficult to read scoff and turning back to his plate with a smirk when Mezo nervously glanced over. Dad took the longest to notice, pinching the bridge of his nose when he did. "Geez, Mezo."

"Sorry. Hurts less," he explained, hoping that would be the end of it.

Surprisingly, it was Grandpa who jumped to his defense. "Let him eat that way son, I think it's great!"

Mezo looked at his grandfather with utter shock. That cheerful statement was easily the kindest thing he had ever said about his grandson, whose birth had been a curse upon the family. Mezo had half a mind to thank him for standing up for him, until the old man spoke again.

"I can almost look at him while eating, now that the face is covered up. Can't you get the lil monster to wear sleeves, too?"

"...M'not a monster, o-jiisan."

It was the first time he'd spoken up like that. The adults all looked shocked by Mezo's soft utterance of self defense. Until shock twisted into anger on the old man's face, and then-

Shoji's hand subconsciously went to his side, remembering the welt from the cane, the scolding from his mom not to backtalk grandpa. She always did that, always tried to appease him, to make him forget his suspicion that the dirty blood came from his daughter in law straying, even though his own quirk was extending arms.

Trapped deep in thought, Mezo didn't notice anyone sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Two boys, mid teens by the look of it, ran past suddenly, bumping into him on both sides, whooping excitedly. There was a tearing sound as Shoji's mask was suddenly ripped down. "OOPS!"

His heart was racing instantly, the pounding of blood in his ears making the laughter and comments sound eerily distant. "Ho-o-oly shit what's wrong with your face?!"

He froze. Shoji's legs felt glued in place, and for a moment he suspected the use of a quirk. Until he realized, it was just his own mind forcing a panic response.

Any other day, any other place, Mezo was sure he could have reacted more heroically. Calm, cool, collected. Perhaps spoken to them, or at the very least, gathered himself and remained dignified. But all of his emotions were already so raw, a feeling like rope burn from old memories binding in this place. This was just salt in the wound.

Finally, he forced an arm to move, shoving the mask back up. The second he let go, it started slipping again. His fingers brushed a huge tear in the fabric. Did he have a spare? He had to have a spare, it was probably in his bag, was he going to tear through his luggage right here and now, they were still talking, why couldn't he move?

Then a new voice chimed in, one that held no laughter as it barked, "HEY!" Still giggling, the pranksters skittered off before the risk of consequence could catch up. Firm footsteps drew closer, before finally stopping beside Shoji. "Little jackasses...hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He barely glanced at the woman who had jogged over to check on him, too embarrassed by the need for a rescue. Taking a deep breath to ground himself, he tried to put on a stoic mask. "Sorry for troubling you."

You scoffed. "You didn't do anything." His eyes finally found yours. Anticipation roiled in his belly as you curiously looked at his face, at his hand pulling the blue fabric tight over his skin to keep the halves together. "Did they do that?"

You thought a moment, then hesitantly spoke. "...I've got a sewing kit in my bag. You can sit with me during the ride."

"The mask, yeah. It's fine, it's just a thing. I have another." Yet, when he took his bag over to a bench to dig through its contents, the spare was nowhere to be found. It was probably sitting somewhere in his parents' house. Well, might as well consider that one lost forever. "Damnit... Nevermind, this is my only one."

It took a moment for Shoji to recognize the offer for what it was. "...oh! I don't want to impose."

You shrugged. "It's kind of a long trip, this'll give me something to do."

~~~

Mezo waited until the two of you were situated on the train to give up on the vain effort to hold his mask together. Pulling the torn garment over his head, he meekly passed it to you.

Your eyes briefly lingered on the scars, but Shoji was grateful when no questions followed the look. Instead, you focused on looking the fabric over to determine what exactly needed to be done. "...It looks worse that it is, I'll be able to tack it no problem. It's a clean tear, just in a bad spot. Want me to try and match the color and hide it, or you want it to pop?"

"Pop?"

"Yeah, like, make it a decoration, like a kintsugi thing. Use a bright color to make a line of stitches. It's gonna be a few hours, I could even try a little embroidery."

"You don't have to go through all that trouble, really, as long as I can wear it again that's enough." He felt bad enough, that you were fixing the consequence of him not paying attention. He felt strangely worse when he noticed the slightly disappointed look in your eyes as you selected a matching thread to hide the wound in his mask.

Silence found the two of you as you began the delicate operation. Uncomfortable silence, from Shoji's perspective.

"...what's kintsugi?"

"Hm?" You acknowledged without pausing your work.

"Kintsugi. You said it before."

"Oh! It's a ceramic technique where you use a gold paste to repair broken pieces. Instead of trying to hide the cracks, it draws attention to them, emphasizing them as something beautiful."

Shoji felt himself smile as he half joked, "if only that worked with real scars." His own words instantly made his stomach sour. Why would he say something like that to a near stranger? It was unbecoming to act so vulnerable. Couldn't he just keep that self pity inside, where it belongs.

Only, you didn't seem bothered by his spontaneous vulnerability. "I dunno. It's like body hair and birthmarks and cellulite, if you forget what you've been told about what's supposed to be attractive, then they're objectively very beautiful." As he considered the implications of your words, you went on. "Scars are really wonderful if you think about it. They're how your body shows its love for you, building you back stronger if you get hurt. Like, 'hey we're not done, let's get back out there!' I think that's lovely."

"It is, isn't it?" His eyes fell to the hidden repair on his mask. "...think you could do an octopus?"

You looked up at him then, excitement quickly overtaking your features. "I can try. And if it turns out looking godawful you only have to deal with it for a little while."

It didn't matter if it turned out poorly, he thought, nodding. He had already decided two things. One was that he'd wear it anyway, and keep it like a scar. So that when his friends asked how his trip went, he could show it to them and tell them about how he met someone so kind on the ride home.

The second was, when the time came to disembark, he would ask for your number.

~~~

Ultimate fantasy of being emotionally supportive to the blorbo go!