Eret&Skullcrusher

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Everything I Ever Thought I Knew.

The room was dark, let alone for the small, flickering light of the lantern Eret had brought with him.

In his hand, he held something.

A sketchbook, old and torn, held together by its leather wrappings.

It wasn't any sketchbook.

It was his sketchbook, the one he used to have as a trapper, and now, months later, as a rider.

He placed it down, next to the pin.

His mother's pin.

That small thing that had changed his life so much, so quickly, leaving him stranded in a sea of denial and self-doubt.

His hand trembled as he unbinded the sketchbook, his breathing uneven.

And there it was, a sketch, rough and darkened by time.

A hunter fortress, the shadows of men and cages in the distance clear as daylight.

Guilt, cold and sharp, curled around his soul.

Then, he began singing.

Not because he wanted to.

But because his soul felt too heavy, too tired to carry everything the way he always had, burrying it all away in silence.

His voice was barely a whisper when he started, but he didn't care.

"I thought I was an outcast,"

"I thought I stood alone,"

His hand swepted across his old sketches.

Everywhere, he saw the same thing.

Fortresses, hunters, cages, weapons, dragons.

No, not dragons.

Monsters, that's how they looked.

"A rogue, a trapper, a joker,"

"No place to call my own,"

He turned another page.

This one depicted a cage.

And in it, stood a dragon, chained, bleeding, eyes wide with terror.

"I thought no one could love me, and how could I have known I was wrong,"

Skullcrusher's image came to mind, the warmth of his breath, his grounding presence.

"Oh so wrong..."

Τhen...

The drawings changed.

His voice softened.

"And then I thought I found it,"

Berk.

"A dream that I could share,"

His friends.

"I thought I was so lucky, it almost wasn't fair,"

There he was.

Skullcrusher.

"I thought I knew my purpose,"

More drawings.

Dragons flying.

People.

Life, as it was, simple and joyfull.

"I thouht that I knew where I belonged,"

Him laughing, surrounded by people. His family. His dragon.

"But I was wrong..."

He pushed his chair back, stumbling backwards.

"Everything I ever thought I knew,"

He began pacing, back and forth, memories flashing behind his eyes.

"Where I've been,"

His hand closing around chains, a dragon roaring in the distanse.

"Where I'm going,"

His hand, resting atop Skullcrusher's horn now.

"Everything I counted on turned out to be untrue,"

Berk vanished from behind his eyes.

Skullcrusher's rumble faded from memory.

But then...

The pin.

The truth.

The unbearable, suffocating truth that his destiny had already been written out for him.

"Could've guessed,"

"Should've known,"

He turned his gaze elsewhere.

"Now I do..."

He took a deep breath.

"Everything I've yearned for,"

He looked around.

He saw those walls, the walls of his hut, the outline of this life he had built from scraps, the life he loved more than anything.

"Everything I planned,"

"All my sweetest memories were castles made of sand,"

He looked back at Skullcrusher's drawing.

At that imposing, steadying presence that had held him together when everything else couldn't.

"Now that it's all crumbling,"

His eyes began to sting.

"Help me understand,"

He turned away again, his breath trembling, clutching his chest.

"If none of it was really me, then who am I supposed to be?!"

His gaze drifted upwards, towards the unseen sky, memories of him and Skullcrusher playing behind his eyes.

"And,"

He turned another page.

His heart skipped a beat.

For a while, he stared at it.

"Everything I ever thought I knew,"

It was a sketch of him and Skullcrusher, resting, eyes always locked, Eret leaned against his dragon's side, Skullcrusher's tail wrapped around his legs.

"Every hope,"

"Every feeling,"

The warmth.

The safety.

The freedom.

That impossible closeness.

"Love and trust and happiness they're done, they're gone, they're through,"

"And what's left?"

He leaned over the drawing again.

"Me alone,"

"Once again,"

"Should've known,"

"Now I do..."

A tear fell, smearing the charchoal.

He didn't wipe it away.

"I guess my life meant nothing,"

His breath caught in his throat.

"I guess it was a sham,"

More tears followed, streaming down his face.

"I guess I'm someone else now,"

He stared at the pin for a long time.

Then back at the sketch he had made.

"I wonder who I am..."

The last words echoed as he turned and vanished into the dark, leaving his sketchbook open, the pin lying next to it, the life he chose and the one he was supposed to have colliding silently inside him.

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I thought of a new Au where Eret got straight up possessed 😭 Actually, it's a combo of pure possession, split-self manifestation and symbiotic corruption. Just to really kick things off.

"Story Of A Warrior"

I heard of a man A legend of old Who searched for a heart He could hold

All through the land His story was told Passed down through all The lonely souls So if you want to hear Lend your ear and

I'll tell you the story of a warrior Who fought the fight of love With every wound he wore He raised his sword and Marched through tears and blood And though his foes left him broken He arose with a hope inside his heart Right through the scars Now they tell the story of a warrior Who fought the fight Who fought the fight of love

Through fire and rain His heart set ablaze No matter the pain He set his soul on fire Held his head up higher When you hear his name, they'll say

I'll tell you the story of a warrior Who fought the fight of love With every wound he wore He raised his sword and Marched through tears and blood And though his foes left him broken He arose with a hope inside his heart Right through the scars Now they tell the story of a warrior Who fought the fight Who fought the fight of love

Now, I must admit that the story isn't finished, ON PAPER. I have a timeline and I know exactly what happens, when and why, as well and the impact it has on the characters without changing them. As for the progress... Oh boy. I do like writting everything on paper first, and that has kept me back a lot, but not as much as school did. In fact, I've only written only four chapters that all focus on the begging of the story, and I'm still writing the first chapter, "A Rescue Mission Gone Wrong" on Ao3. Another issue are my writing skills, since I'm relatively new to this writing stuff and my language, since English isn't my native language. However, I do hope I'll manage to finish it over the course of this year, although updates will be scarce and will take some months, I believe. But.. I just can't allow myself of not ever finishing this, no matter the number of unfinished projects I have (Fear/Corruption Au, Lycanwing Au, Bleeding Shadows Au, House Of The Dragon Au, and more I can't quite recall right now), since Eret and Skullcrusher always meant more than two simple characters to me. They have so much potencial for a good story, and I'm determined to present that story to you, no matter what.

As an ending note, I'd like to thank each and every one who has supported me here on Tumblr, with the simplest way possible: Viewing my posts, liking, reblogging, following me!

An unfinished snippet from a chapter from my fic, "The Things We'd Do For Love".

Eret stopped mid-sentence.

“You know, after this little… accident we had, I was thinking a lot. And, well, I thought it might be time for me to…”

The words died in his throat.

Skullcrusher had frozen.

The Rumblehorn stood utterly still near the hearth, his green eyes wide, fixed entirely on him. Not angry. Not frightened. Something deeper. Something that rooted itself beneath Eret’s ribs and held on.

Slowly, the dragon’s gaze travelled across his body.

Over every bruise mottling his skin.

Every half-healed cut.

Every old bite mark and warped scar tissue twisted pale beneath the firelight.

And then it landed on the brand burned into his chest.

Eret’s stomach dropped as he understood what was going on.

“Oh. Uh…” He stepped back quickly, scrambling for literally anything to cover himself with. “Sorry, Skullcrusher. I didn’t mean to, just…” A strained laugh escaped him, thin as paper. “Shouldn’t really have done that, should I? I’ll just go put something on and…”

The rumble stopped him.

Low. Deep. Resonating through the wooden floorboards.

Eret froze.

Skullcrusher moved toward him slowly, carefully, each heavy step deliberate. The dragon’s nostrils flared as he approached, taking in the scent of old blood, healing wounds, burned flesh. Hurt. Hurt everywhere.

He had seen glimpses before. A scar beneath his shirt. Marks exposed during work. Fragments.

Never all of it.

Now it lay before him like a map carved into skin.

Too many wounds.

Too many places where pain had settled and never fully left.

And that thing burned over Eret’s chest…

That brand.

That mark of hate and ownership.

The dragon let out another sound, quieter this time. Not a growl. Not even really a rumble. Something softer. A sound Eret had never heard him make before.

Something inside Skullcrusher ached.

Protect.

Mend.

Clean the wound.

Keep alive.

The instincts came swift and ancient as dawn.

Eret didn’t move as Skullcrusher finally reached him. He looked stunned more than anything else, caught somewhere between panic and disbelief.

Cautiously, the Rumblehorn lowered his head.

Like approaching something wounded enough that sudden movement might make it bolt.

His snout pressed gently against Eret’s chest.

The breath that left Eret trembled apart before it fully escaped him.

Warm air rolled across scarred skin. The steady heat of dragon breath seeped into him, grounding him, anchoring him there in the flickering firelight.

And something inside him cracked wide open.

Not because of magic. Not because of destiny.

Because after so long, he was being seen.

All of him.

Not the hunter. Not the trapper. Not the man he used to be.

Just Eret.

Skullcrusher had already dragged him through nightmares, grief, guilt sharp enough to split bone. He had stayed through all of it. But this…

This was different.

Now the dragon could see every ugly part laid bare beneath the firelight, and he did not recoil.

He leaned closer.

Eret’s knees finally gave out beneath him. Slowly, he slid down against the wall until he was sitting on the floorboards, breath uneven.

Skullcrusher followed immediately, curling partway around him without thought, his massive body shielding him from the room as naturally as drawing breath.

“…Skullcrusher, I…” Eret whispered.

The dragon huffed softly against his shoulder before nudging his chin upward.

Then, carefully, he began tending to him.

The first touch landed over the brand.

Eret flinched instinctively as the dragon’s warm tongue brushed against the warped white flesh there, slow and deliberate. The sensation was strange. Familiar in the way dragon grooming had grown to be, yet unbearably intimate like this.

For a second, he pulled away.

Skullcrusher immediately stilled.

Waiting.

Never forcing.

The pause shattered something in Eret far more thoroughly than pain ever could.

Slowly, shakily, he leaned back in.

Another low rumble rolled through the dragon’s chest, vibrating against Eret’s ribs like distant thunder. Contentment. Reassurance. Mine to protect.

Not mine to own.

The difference nearly undid him.

Skullcrusher moved slowly from there.

Over older scars first. The ones silvered with time. His tongue swept carefully across each mark, patient and methodical, the same way dragons groomed torn scales or old battle wounds within their groups.

Every touch made Eret twitch.

Not because it was unpleasant.

Because he wasn’t used to tenderness arriving where pain usually lived.

Again and again, he flinched instinctively beneath the warmth and wet pressure.

Again and again, he leaned back in.

Skullcrusher never rushed him.

Each time Eret recoiled, even slightly, the dragon would still immediately, waiting with quiet, aching patience until Eret settled again. Only then would he continue, rumbling softly beneath his breath.

Safe.

Safe.

Still here.

The newer wounds came next.

Those hurt.

The split skin along his shoulder burned beneath the dragon’s touch, and Eret sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as Skullcrusher cleaned the injury with slow, deliberate care.

His body tried to pull away automatically.

Years of instinct screamed at him to hide hurt, conceal weakness, survive first and feel later.

But Skullcrusher’s rumble rolled through him like distant thunder against stone.

So Eret stayed.

Even when it stung.

Even when it ached.

He stayed.

Then Skullcrusher reached his ribs.

The dragon paused immediately.

A low sound vibrated in his chest, deeper now. Distressed.

Carefully, he nosed along Eret’s side, feeling the bruising hidden beneath skin and flesh. Eret tensed hard at the contact before he could stop himself, pain flashing white-hot through his side.

Skullcrusher stopped at once.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then the dragon drew back slightly, eyes fixed on him.

Waiting.

The choice was Eret’s.

The realization hit harder than the pain did.

No one had ever stopped before.

Not when he hurt.

Not when he was afraid.

Not when his body gave warning after warning.

But Skullcrusher waited.

Eret swallowed hard before, slowly, carefully, he leaned sideways into the dragon’s touch again.

Permission.

Trust.

The rumble that left Skullcrusher then was so soft Eret almost felt it more than heard it.

And when the dragon finally tended the bruised rib, impossibly gentle despite his size, Eret let his eyes fall shut against the sting.

It hurt.

Gods, it hurt.

But beneath the pain was something warmer.

Something steady.

For once, being touched did not mean being harmed.

And maybe that was why Eret’s hands shook when he finally reached up and placed them against the side of Skullcrusher’s jaw, holding on like a drowning man clutching wreckage after a storm.

Not because he was breaking.

Because, very slowly, he was learning he no longer had to survive alone.

And for the first time in years, Eret did not feel the need to hide.

Not his sins.

Not his mistakes.

Not the marks they had left behind.

He was seen with them.

And still loved.

Eret closed his eyes as the dragon curled more firmly around him, warm and steady as a living hearth.

Held.

Ooooohhh that's so niceee! What type of creature would Skullcrusher be, huh? Well, I'd suggest something like a bull shark (not really sure about it), but a Sea Serpent or even a Makara (creatures that are half terrestrial and part sea animal) would really fit him!

But in this scene

The back seems to be missing. That's a great detail, because I don't think that riding a dragon for long periods of time with this back would be comfortable.

And don't YOU DARE tell me this isn't Skullcrusher's saddle Eret's carrying I swear I'll teleport there myself and explain as to why that is his saddle.

(tap on them for better quality cause Tumblr hates me apparently)

1) The boyzzz! I absolutely LOVE this drawing.

2) This GORGEOUS redraw of my favourite scene from Dragonvine. It's just too good.

3) Another scene redraw, but come on, I had to! They're adorable OMG 😍

4) One of my many, MANY alternative AUs, called "The Bleeding Shadows". They're so goddamn good.

5) My Fear/Corruption Au fanart! Oh I love him and how broken he is.

6) And last but not least, my Lycanwing Au! Oh this guy is... Well, nothing like the character he's supposed to be. But that's why I love him so much!