#Celebrity!Hiccup

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

Hiccstrid Drabble | A Difficult Interview

“Mr. Haddock - if you please, there are a few questions I-”

Hiccup Haddock, heir to ‘Vast Inc.’ and celebrity amputee, whirled around to glare at the reporter, his stunning green eyes flashing dangerously.

“I don’t care,” he grit out, “I’m in no mood for an impromptu interview.”

“Sir, this is by no means impromptu; I scheduled this meeting with your agent two weeks ago-”

Haddock sighed, cutting off the fierce blonde reporter yet again. “For the last time, I have zero interest in sharing my story with anyone, and WestWings should know this, considering I’ve turned down their offers hundreds of times.”

She straightened, adjusting her notepad and tucking her pen back behind her ear, her thick braid holding it in place. “With all due respect, Mr. Haddock, the four different reporters they sent were unable to retrieve your intriguing story, but they sent me now. And I have a . . . highly successful record in being able to extract difficult information.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure you do, looking like that,” he commented snidely. Her carefully polite expression shifted into one of furious outrage.

“Excuse you,” she hissed. “Would you care to elaborate on that?” Her voice was dangerously low. He was completely unaware, rolling his eyes and continuing in a patronizing voice.

“Not at all, you only have that awful scary look on your face that strongly suggests death if I don’t spill all my secrets to you so you can broadcast my personal struggles to the rest of the world,” he snarked.

She drew back, surprised. “Oh.” She had been expecting a different explanation. So many people she interviewed thought the only way a beautiful professional woman was successful was by sleeping her way up to the top.

He blinked, noticing her expression for the first time. His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. Oh no, I - I’m so - I didn’t mean to imply that you . . . uh, no. Sorry. I’m not hitting on you or anything. I mean, you’re plenty pretty but I’m sure that’s not - I don’t - ugh.” His throat bobbed in apology and for the first time, she supposed she could understand some of the tabloids gushing about his good looks. He wasn’t wearing a full suit, only a crumpled white button up shirt with no tie and untucked out of his trousers. His green eyes were definitely pretty, she decided, especially when coupled with those high cheekbones.

“You know, I think I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said easily, smoothing over the awkwardness. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to answer a few questions-”

“Fine. One.” she bit her lip against the annoyance that bubbled at his incessant interruptions. “As an apology,” he continued.

“I don’t need a pity answer,” she tried not to snap. She exhaled sharply. “Anyway, Mr. Haddock, where would you like to start?”

“Let’s start with losing the ‘Mr. Haddock’ crap. Makes me feel like my dad. You can call me Hiccup.” Interesting insight into his relationship with his father; more to unpack there. “And how about somewhere not in the open lobby?”

“Very well, Hiccup,” she said, trying out the name. “You can call me Astrid. But I’m not leaving here until you answer that one question you promised me before you can escape behind made up excuses and appointments.” He smiled wryly.

“Caught on, didn't you?” he huffed. She smiled at him.

“I did. Which is why I believe I’m the best person to pass your story to the rest of the world. Whether you like it or not, things will make themselves known, and you can either have people put together a distorted version of everything, or share an accurate, clear account of what happened. We can work together, Hiccup,” she persuaded him, leaning forward, letting that passionate side of her weave into her voice; it was her true secret of how she could obtain any information, infusing her subject with ardor until they were sharing everything, too caught up in the eager flow of their own words and emotions. She saw the effect on him, how he stood a little taller, the spark in his own eyes.

“You’re really good with your words, Ms. Hofferson,” he chuckled. “But you’re right, and I do believe I can trust you enough with my story to not tarnish it with overly dramatic details.” Astrid shrugged an elegant shoulder, pleased she’d broken through his unreceptive exterior.

“I can understand if you’re uncomfortable imparting your story in what seems like an unfeeling and formal environment. Would it be better for us to arrange to meet in a more casual setting? Perhaps a coffee shop?” She was willing to make accommodations if it led to the result she wanted.

Hiccup’s eyes flicked up to meet hers uncertainly. “Professionally,” she clarified. He nodded, ducking his head slightly so she couldn’t quite catch the expression in his eyes. Was he . . . disappointed? Astrid was certainly not averse to getting to know him more . . . privately, after she completed her article about him and solidified her career.

“That sounds good,” he agreed. “Now, as for that one question . . .”

[httyd-art-requests]

2024/02/29

Happy Leap Day everyone! And...

Happy Birthday Hiccup!

[jackshiccup]

[thereweredragonshere]

Thayt a lot of people 😟

Thank you! :D

[wickedcriminal]

February 29th: the day which an idiot named Hiccup and his friends raid a public library for a special book, on his birthday no less! Which Hiccup was he again?

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #59- Halloween Special

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

Astrid had grown up on the isle of Berk. Born and raised on its cursed soil. She knew the best trees for climbing, she knew every name in the five hundred or so people that roamed the village. She swam its waters, explored its caves. She knew not to eat the dark purple berries on the thorny vines, and she knew not to make fire from black wood. She knew it was bad luck to wander into the bonefield, and that only people with a death wish went out at night. She knew that the trade ships that came in refused to stay more than one night on their soil, and that no ‘blood of the island’ was able to leave the isle’s waters.

And she knew not to approach the Pale Rider. 

Life on Berk was not really all that different from life on any other island or village. There were a few things to get used to, but all things considered, life was fine. 

Almost idyllic. 

They had farms, they had a baker, a blacksmith/butcher/dentist, a tailor, and a medicine woman. There was a large field of wildflowers. And the cliffs that overlooked the ocean offered beautiful views.

What was odd was that they didn’t have a mayor, or chief, or any kind of ruler. And the land was cursed. Oh, extremely cursed.

The extent of the curse was not fully known. It had long been set into the island for many generations. The inciting event had wiped out a large amount of the population, that included the witnesses. 

Thus the boneyard and the forbidden, crumbling castle on the mountain. 

Besides a few stray quirks of the island, the main effect of the curse was that no one born of the descents of the original village was able to leave. The curse feasted upon the life of its inhabitants and leaving the waters a few miles out would find one drained of energy before they perished. 

That’s how her father died. 

A fisherman, out alone on his vessel, just trying to go out a little farther to look for a better spot. The medicine woman stated that he had succumbed to the curse before he could even turn around. That was of course several days after he hadn’t come back and his ship finally floated back. 

So if you weren’t the adventurous or vacationing type, it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Oh right, there was also the Pale Rider. 

When she was a child, stories of the Rider would instill fear into the children of the village. He was responsible for the missing livestock, for the trails of blood, and piles of bones. It was only a matter of time before his hunger would turn to those who he cornered in dark alleys at night. 

Things changed a few years ago. Whereas the Rider had only ever been talked about, and stood as an urban legend of the town, he was still a mystery. Parents made up what he looked like, how he acted, what he wanted. There was occasionally a sighting. Someone would come ranting and raving in the village square that they saw the rider running across the ocean or some other flight of fancy. Others still swore they heard the whinny of his horse. Although when asked to describe it, they ended up mimicking the sound of a bear or a mountain lion. 

But one day, the village Blacksmith/butcher/dentist, an eccentric man named Gobber, gifted with a backbone made of steel, decided he had enough. He called everyone together in the village square and announced, “I have invited the Rider to come to my shop tomorrow, and he accepted.” 

Horrified murmurings fell over the crowd. 

“You did what?” 

“Aye! You heard me! I got tired of the creature snagging my chickens! Pickin’ them off one by one…terrified them out of laying eggs!” 

“…so you invited him into the village.” 

“Yes!” Gobber exclaimed. “But you’re looking at it all wrong. I invited him to come and run his errands like a normal person, instead of him stealing like a horrible raccoon!” 

“He’s no horrible raccoon! He’s worse! He’s a demon!” 

“An abomination!” 

“The curse that walks!” 

“Death incarnate!” 

“Now now,” a voice called out among the crowd. This belonged to Dagur, son of the richest man in town, Oswald. As the richest family, the Berserker clan had some power, and opinions. “I’m sure Gobber didn’t mean any harm in inviting…an eldritch monster into our sweet little village.” 

“It’s jus’ as much his village as everyone else’s. He’s been here longer than all of us. A little goodwill won’t hurt nobody.” 

“You better hope it won’t, old man.” Dagur poked him in the chest. “Or I’ll make sure you suffer.” 

Astrid remembered the day the Pale Rider came to town for the first time. She was only 13, still a child. Her father was still alive. That day was sunny with big pillowy clouds. Many folks would claim that he arrived on a gray, rainy day, but that simply wasn’t true. It was sunny, and lovely. 

The caws of ravens preceded him. A flock of five swooping in. Then a horn from the watchtower alerted an intruder. 

The black shadow appeared at the edge of town, opposite to Gobber’s forge. People screamed and ran inside, while others coward in alleyways, terrified but curious to see what would happen. 

Astrid had been pulled into her house by her father, but still peered out the door to watch. 

The Pale Rider made his way through town, the clacking of horse hoofs and the calls of the ravens the only thing to show life in the village. 

He was not what she was expecting, but much worse. His horse, if you could call it that, was a black beast with leathery wings. It had tusks and fangs and its hooves morphed into talons. Its eyes glowed an acid green and it breathed fire from its nostrils. Its shape was unnatural. The neck looked like it was made of only bone, and its joints were spindly and narrow. 

The Rider himself was tall, too tall. His neck was elongated, as were his black and blue fingers. He wore an animal skull mask over his face, but his own violent green eyes still burned through the sockets. He had antlers like an elk, and wore a long, draping black cloak that fell open just enough to reveal his chest. 

His heart was on fire inside of him, and the flame illuminated it through the skin, only obscured by the form of his rib cage. 

Astrid’s home wasn’t too far from Gobber’s shop, and she slipped out to watch the Rider arrive. 

Gobber waited for him, hands on his hips and smiling. “There you are! I wondered if ya’d show. And ah, sorry ‘bout the cold reception! I told the other folks that you were comin’ and well, maybe one day they’ll come around.” 

The Rider didn’t respond. 

“Right, so come on in…” Gobber beckoned him into the forge. 

The Rider ducked his head, entering the forge, horse and all. His antlers scraped against the doorframe. 

He stayed for about an hour. Then, just as he came, he left. Silent, slowly, just rode out of town, leaving everyone behind to deal with the aftermath. 

That was three years ago. Every day since then, without fail, the Pale Rider would arrive at noon. For the first year, the guard sounded the horn at his approach. But after a while, he went unannounced. 

People still halted in the streets and let their conversations go silent. They watched him go, no longer terrified, but cautious. 

No one said it, but everyone agreed one day he’d snap and kill them all. 

Not Astrid though. She had come to see the Rider as a part of village life. Just as the rooster signifies dawn, so does the Rider declare noon. 

Each day, he went to the blacksmith’s shop, taking his horse in with him. Some days he left with a paper package, and some days he left empty handed.

[nextstopparis]

you know how in httyd after hiccup gets really good in dragon training and stoick comes back from his failed nest hunt and everyones congratulated him like “we’re all gonna throw a party” and “no ones gonna miss that old nuisance” and the most probable reason for Those Reactions to him was that HIS KID DIED. like what the FUCK was that LOL.

[mademoisellekalopsia]

At an Angle

Simply lie down in the comfort of your own couch or the bed. Sink into the cushions and have life come at you on the edge.

[heliads]

May I have 💌 for hiccup ? ❤️

FOR YOU ANYTHING

masterlist

Hiccup’s stuck in his own head again. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, but this time, he’s not thinking about his dragon or his village, but a girl. He’s known Y/N L/N all his life, but Hiccup is finally realizing that he is extraordinarily lucky to know her.

It’s long after nightfall in Berk, and Hiccup is sitting at one of the outdoor cooking fires, watching the sparks and smoke wind up to the stars above. Every now and then, the constellations are blotted out by the dark shape of a dragon flying by far up in the clouds, but for the most part, the skies are clear. At the beginning of the night, many of Hiccup’s friends had joined him around the fire, all talking and laughing together, but they’ve slowly filed away, dispersing to homes and roads past his line of vision.

Now, only Hiccup and Y/N are left. They were squeezed together when there were more bodies around the fire, but even after everyone disappeared, they’ve remained side by side, close enough to touch. Close enough to make Hiccup think of nothing else but being able to touch her.

Y/N’s head is tilted up, staring at the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah, they are,” Hiccup says, and it’s true. He can see them reflected in her eyes, along with the warm glow from the fire that paints brushstrokes of gold over her cheeks. He’s known her since they were small, but Hiccup swears he only started learning how to look at her just recently.

Y/N glances back at him, catching him in the act of staring, but she doesn’t tease him for it. Instead, she tilts her head to the side, curious. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Hiccup is at a loss for words for a while. Eventually, once he remembers how to talk when she’s looking at him, only a breath away, he chokes out, “You.”

It isn’t what he was supposed to say. Hiccup was meant to deliver some witty joke about the weather or the dragons, a usual bit of his stupid sarcasm. The truth, however, has a way of getting in the way of things.

As it turns out, the truth is exactly what Y/N wants to hear. Her face splits in a delighted smile. “Yeah? What about me?”

“Just– I’m glad to know you, that’s all. I never thought I’d find someone so like me in Berk of all places.” Hiccup stumbles over his words, but from the way Y/N is beaming at him, he might have delivered a masterpiece of a speech.

“For what it’s worth,” Y/N says, leaning closer still to him, “I’m awfully glad to have you too, Hiccup.”

He’s close enough to think her eyes are brighter than the stars above. Close enough to make a wish on the dark spread of eyelashes blinking at him, and he does:  He wants this, forever. 

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[000marie198]

Friendship restored

[1000dactyls]

i want to consume your art into my very soul by the way. it’s amazing and you draw them so well!!!

also yeah i love seeing your headcannons and ideas about trans astrid because i feel like we don’t get that a lot in the fandom. it’s very interesting to see how you perceive astrid’s growth as a character from building herself into the most fearsome warrior of her generation and that all being torn down, and how she finally has her girlhood but doesn’t know what to do with it

anyway ty for reading this rambly ask!!

hello i am so sorry for having this sit in my inbox for so long!!!! I really wanted to think of a good response to this ;___; it means a lot that you enjoy my art and how i draw them. I’m still working on aligning the dragon riders’ younger teen selves to how they appear in httyd2, i think, but hopefully drawing more of them will mean that their shape language also begins to come naturally to me…. I HOPE……….

i think trans astrid having 3 fics on ao3 is hugely a shame and the lack of it in the fandom makes me so sad. not that i think a lot of astrid characterizations are the best, anyways… astrid is one of those characters that i think is hard to nail down, in part because canon itself doesn’t really know what to do with her — is she the girl that the hero gets? is she the heart of the team? is she a girlboss? is she a damsel? the series kind of loses itself here trying to answer these questions. but i think the most compelling and consistent narrative about astrid is her coming of age: how she navigates being a member of a community shaped overwhelmingly by loss now faced with sudden abundance

and i think trans astrid in specific is one of the most fun lens you could explore that arc through, in part because you get to explore the httyd-verse with questions like “how are queer people who are not the child of the chief of berk treated” (not that berk, in my head, cares all that much for what bits you’re born with). but if astrid’s most consistent piece of core characterization is her finding her way to adulthood when she hasn’t quite fleshed out what childhood means to her, then giving another layer to her finding out what exactly “girlhood” means in all senses of the word can only be a fruitful experience.

at least, that’s the way i view it! especially since astrid is so much the it girl on berk — except berk’s it girl can’t cook and puts on smudgy dark eye makeup and wears skirts that seem impossible to sit in and reaches up to touch the clouds that always seemed impossible to reach. so in some ways, astrid’s figured out bits and pieces of what girlhood means to her. now she just has to figure out the rest of it

[poibynt]

The GNCness of hiccup horrendous haddock the III can be so personal actually. Yeah that preteen is a mother what of it.

[saturnniidae]

Hiccup and Toothless are the same age but I feel like Toothless is older by a few months

[hiccupbutpurple]

My Vigcup playlist is at 11 hours and 3 minutes…..i wonder how long till it’s 24 hours

And it’s just the songs I wholeheartedly associate with Vigcup, not just the way that every song can relate to every ship if you imagine hard enough - there’s a bit of that but still lol

Edit: screenshots in a reblog if anyone’s interested lol

[valengory1234]

Happy Caturday from my baby dragon Hiccup!

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #63

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

“How did I successfully revive you?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“Well, that’s the interesting part. It’s all about how you were frozen. Most bodies from your time period that we find in ice are mummified or you know, some state of very very dead. But you…you were frozen so quickly,” he snapped his fingers, “everything was perfectly preserved. Normally, when the human body freezes, ice forms inside and can tear apart organs and destroy the body. But that didn’t happen with you. So…how were you frozen?” 

Hiccup swallowed thickly, his last memories coming forth in his mind. The Bewilderbeast, Drago…his father. 

“You know what?” John interrupted. “We can talk about that later. It seems like a sore spot.” 

“...it’s…awful,” Hiccup whispered. He closed his eyes as he kept replaying those moments. And it wasn’t just scary being frozen, but he thought about everyone else that was there. Astrid, his mom, Gobber, the rest of the riders…even the rest of the village like Bucket and Mulch. “Are they all gone?” He breathed. 

“Who?”

“My…my friends, my lover, my family…they’re all…” he covered his mouth as it hit him hard. They weren’t just dead, they were long dead. He never arrived in Valhalla. He was all alone in this weird world, and he had failed to save Berk and the dragons. It was all his fault. 

“Hey hey hey,” John soothed, wrapping a paternal arm around him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“No! No its not! I just found my mom! Astrid and I were–and then Drago–!” He sobbed. 

John took him gently by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Hiccup, take a deep breath.”

“You should have left me in that ice…” 

“No, no. Stop that. Listen to me,” he said firmly. “I might get in trouble for this, but I don’t care. You need to know.” 

Hiccup sniffed. “Know what?”

“You…were not the only person we found.” 

His heart started thudding. “How many others?”

John hesitated then said, “about a village full.” 

Hiccup felt boneless as he fell forward onto John’s shoulder in shock. “They…they can be revived too?” 

“Maybe,” John admitted. “That’s why I didn’t really want to tell you.” 

Hiccup raised his head, and braced his arms on his knees. “I’m listening.” 

“Reviving you was a very expensive ordeal. In order to revive anyone else, we need money.” 

“I’m a blacksmith, I’ll get to work right away!” 

John smiled and patted his arm. “I love the enthusiasm, but that’s not necessary. No, what we need from you is simply your cooperation and your story.” 

“My story?” 

“Mmmhmm. We’ll present you to scientific institutions, government agencies, and rich old people. In the presentations, we’ll ask you to introduce yourself. Who are you? What was village life like? What’s your occupation? How’d you lose your leg? And most importantly, how did you train a dragon?” 

At the mere mention, Hiccup sat up straighter, anxiousness setting in. “Toothless! Is he awake? Can I see him?” 

“Not yet, but soon,” John assured. “You are still very weak from your thaw, and too much excitement will cause stress on you. The more calm and relaxed you stay, the sooner you’ll see...did you say his name was Toothless?” 

Hiccup shrugged. “It’s a long story.” 

“Can’t wait to hear it.” 

“I promise, I will relax so much more if I see him and know he’s okay. He…he needs me. He can’t fly without me.” 

“Well, it’s good to know that he can fly. But I suppose you’re right. I’ll check with my team to make sure they’re ready for you.” 

Hiccup heaved a sigh of relief.