#anyway happy snoggletog everyone!

[justgotawesome]

HAPPY SNOGGLETOG EVERYONE!

[httyd-grimmelsgirl]

Milk Punch:

Part 1

On New Berk, it was the second Snoggletog after dragons left civilization. Seasonal decorating, gift shopping, and feasting made it the best time of year, for most people. Grimmel, although he also loved the hunting songs and the cozy environment, usually couldn’t enjoy Snoggletog to its fullest. He made up for that by travelling far away to see old friends, but even then wasn’t satisfied. He couldn’t yet see what made Snoggletog so unsatisfying. But now retired, and with no dragons to deal with, he could travel the North Sea freely, and this year was special. He was going to New Berk to see what they were up to.

Chief Hiccup was informed immediately of Grimmel’s arrival and was unsure of what to expect from his visit. He went by elevator to the dock to see him. He found Grimmel in simple, comfy clothes, porting his large one-man ship. “What are you doing here, Grimmel?”, he said in an annoyed tone.

“No hello?”, he responded. “Well it’s three days ‘till Snoggletog, I thought I would visit some old friends.”

Hiccup said “Grimmel, we’re not your friends. We made you a ship so you could get home safely.”

Grimmel threw a large pack over his shoulder “And I did. Thank you”, and walked past Hiccup, patting him on the shoulder. He gestured to the elevator, “May I?”

Hiccup reluctantly accepted. “You’re welcome. But if you cause any trouble or no one wants you here, you’ll have to leave. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Indeed”, then he sneezed.

When they made it to the top, Hiccup made a quick announcement telling everyone that Grimmel came in peace and that he was welcome. He then made his way home. Grimmel went out on his own to find his way around, admiring the village. He got strange reactions from some of the villagers, like the people giving confused looks and Fishlegs running away in fear. But he didn’t think anything of it; he was just here to have a good time. Only one person acted happy to see him. “Hey, Grimm Guy'', said Ruffnut, who just couldn’t help but talk to anyone that stood out to her. “I like snow, but I think it would be better if it was pink, ya know? I wish I still had a dragon. If only you didn’t scare them off with your ugly face.” She laughed hysterically. “Anyway byyyye!” Grimmel ignored her, and went to a stand for a refreshment after his long journey.

“Excuse me, I’d like a mug of your most popular drink.” He said politely, placing two coins on the table. The barmaid handed him Yaknog. He took a sip, and quickly regretted his decision. It was like moldy gravy that smelled like a billy goat. He spit it back in the cup.

“Pretty awesome, right?”, said Snotlout who sat beside him, happy to see he was disgusted. “We’ve had the recipe for eight years now.”

Grimmel looked into the mug shocked, “This needs some work.” He sat the rotten refreshment on the table and walked away.

As Hiccup made his way home, Valka beckoned him over. “Hiccup.” She whispered, and signalled him to come behind the building to her. “This isn’t a good idea, son. The last time he came uninvited he burned your house and tried to kill Toothless.”

“It’s alright”, he said, “Now that dragons are out of the picture, he doesn’t have a reason to fight. I already said I would make him leave if he caused any problems.” She nervously peaked around the corner at Grimmel. “Trust me.” She smiled and nodded. They departed and Hiccup went about his day. He came home to Astrid putting up Snoggletog decor. She wore her usual furs and a short, blue dress not as closely fit as her other clothes because she was pregnant. She hung garland and apple wreaths all around the living area as well as a small tapestries of their dragons in the living room.

“Looking good, M’ Lady. You holdin' up?” He said in his fun Hiccup way.

“Yeah. Thanks”, she replied. She got down from the latter to admire her work, but saw Hiccup was unsettled. “You alright?”, she asked.

“Yeah, it’s just that Grimmel came to celebrate Snoggletog with us, and even though I know he won’t do anything terrible under my watch, it still worries me.”

Astrid hugged him. “That’s nice of him. Well, if you’re totally sure nothing will go wrong, I’m sure you’re right. I'll always have your back.”

He gave her a sweet smile. And both cradled her belly, happy, knowing that all was well.

Meanwhile, Grimmel made his way to the woods and ran into Valka. At first he was confused at the sight of her, but noticed it was his Valka. His daughter. And he was overjoyed. “Valka”, he exclaimed. “You’re here! Oh I missed you dear.” He went in for a hug and she put one hand on his chest stopping him.

“I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t know what you told Hiccup, but believe me I can see through all your lies.”

“What’s wrong with you” he said, “this is our first reunion sense–”

“I don’t care,” she snapped, “You forced us to send away our dearest friends. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She stormed off appearing angry but regret quickly swelled in her. Grimmel assumed that she was wronged, but didn’t see anything but resentment from her. He too had difficulty moving on from their unresolved tension, secretly wishing he could make her feel better. However, he was able to sit aside all his troubles for the evening.

He found a place in the woods to set up camp. He loved the snowy peaks and the tall pines of New Berk. That night, he was sure he would enjoy his time on this incredible island.

[crazy4dragons]

Gift of the Night Fury Appreciation!

March of Dragons ‘21 Prompt: Drop a happy rant about an episode, scene, character etc. that you love (Mar. 16-18).

The first thing that popped into my head when I read the prompt was Gift of the Night Fury! It’s been here since almost the beginning, but I feel like it sort of gets buried under all the (still good!) newer content. GOTNF is my favorite HTTYD short ever. In my opinion, it captures everything that made me love HTTYD to begin with: Hiccup and Toothless’ friendship, Hiccstrid, everyone on Berk coming to know and love dragons. It also fits into canon very well! Oh and let’s not forget that it literally foreshadows HTTYD3 with Hiccup creating a tail for Toothless to wear and fly on his own.

I like how GOTNF shows everyone on Berk learning and adjusting to dragons and I absolutely love that someone (probably Hiccup TBH) told Fishlegs that Meatlug was a boy and the twins had to explain to him why she was laying eggs. Also, I love Astrid with her Snoggletog traditions. I feel like GOTNF is one of the few times we get to see Astrid’s full personality. She’s always up for a battle and she’s definitely tough but she can also screw up and be just as much of a dork as Hiccup. I’d kill to see a raw, uncut version of their household after they have children, haha. Oh, and Hiccup making the tail for Toothless while pretending to like Astrid’s yaknog is priceless.

Also, the way Hiccup wants what’s best for Toothless but has a hard time coping when Toothless actually flies away is so parallel to HTTYD3. As much as I enjoy the fun shorts like Dawn of the Dragon Racers and the humor in some of RTTE, GOTNF just fucks me over in a whole different way. I think part of it is nostalgia and part of it is just that it captures what I love about the franchise and the characters perfectly. It’s not trying too hard or trying to add a bunch of new characters (absolutely no hate to fans who love all the new characters in RTTE/ROB/DOB! I personally had a couple I liked as well but for the most part they just didn’t click with me for some reason). It just exists and does a great job rounding out/building on the characters and relationships that I loved from the first movie.

Oh and let’s talk about that Hiccstrid kiss at the end! Absolutely adorable. I like older Hiccstrid and I love some good mature Hiccstrid smut interactions but there’s something just so heartwarming and sweet about 15-year-old Hiccstrid having innocent crushes on each other. Too cute!

Anyway, love GOTNF! I watch it every Christmas to celebrate; it’s become one of my go-to holiday specials and is probably my favorite!

[eerriee]

Post httyd3 possible scenarios | headcanons

I told you I won’t shut up about HTTYD3 -- we will all ganna think about it together.  (please just let me post my ideas here cause i need it to be released this is ganna be long)

    - The hooligans didn’t went back to old berk, they as well become mystery to the rest of the   world, this thought went in my mind considering that they really want to protect the dragons.    ( And they couldn’t go back to old berk without any boats or resources so they settled in the   new berk. ) This made them to become one of the most mysterious vikings, to the point that   new generations of vikings , believed that they never existed, that they were descendant of    Odin or they were the children of dragons, that they were half humans - half dragon since the   rumor of them being able to fly is wide spread.

  - After the dragons have left , the riders would usually hang out on the cliff where they had   last seen their dragon friends. This gathering happened usually happens before nightfall  and they would always tell stories of their time together. The stories being told consist of  their first dragon ride, their dragon’s personality, the way they spend time together, the --   way they sleep, their first snoggletog with them , the first flight to edge , the first fight , the  dragon racing and many, many more. Usually it was Fishleg who starts this conversations  but as time passed, it was snotlout who always talk a lot  & he was the one who usually -  gets extremely emotional. ( He is a softiee inside, fight me. )

 - As much as I want it to be astrid who comforts Hiccup when he woke up from a nightmare and going out to looking for Toothless but there was no toothless. I think it was more of --- valka who does that , whenever Hiccup wakes up, her mother is awake and the two would just talk about random things until it’s morning. (cause she knew that hiccup won’t be able to fall asleep again.)  This habit continued on and on , valka being there gives sense of --- comfort to the berk’s chief this didn’t stop even when he was wedded to astrid, instead -  they even invited astrid to join them whenever one of them is having nightmares.

 - After the wedding of hiccup and Astrid,  fishleg and ruffnut got married as well. The wedding  was all of sudden ,  since ruffnut was all “ We were married anyways, at some point in our--  lives, but it’s not really official , so we are making it official. “ and the chief and chieftess was  beyond confused on what they were talking about but in the end they bestowed their blessing  to the two and was more than happy to see that two of their friends was happy.

 -  Astrid and Hiccup got zephyr after 3 years of marriage  ( I believe that they returned to the  hidden world when they were around 31 or 32 )  Astrid and hiccup was 24 years old by then & during her first pregnancy , valka and hiccup was very hands on and protective towards her ,  since gothi had told that it would be tough for astrid. Tough considering that they thought that the child would be another hiccup, but what really gothi meant is though cause the child is --- rather very energetic and always move inside her mother’s tummy.

-  When Zephyr was born everyone in berk falls in love with her immediately, they would spoil     the kid rotten by sending weapons ( yes and by weapons i mean to weapons ) , they were    happy that there were additional shield maiden into their tribe and with zephyr being around    it helped heal the missing hole in the berkians heart ( not totally of course but it healed some)    fortunately, as Hiccup told himself, the girl had inherited her father’s hobby, which is craft &     build things, she also loves to play dragons with fishlegs and fishleg’s twin daughter & son.

-   Zephyr was 3 years old when Nuffink was conceived , and as much as i want to think that    it was tuffnut who named the boy , i think it was zephyr who had named him instead I ,    think zephyr had heard so many stories about him and toothless being separated, & having   nuffink , who was a boy, made zephyr a bit worried that he might leave their dad as well ---   ( cause guys come one zephyr is 3 and constantly hearing from her uncles that toothless left   she assumed that all boys will leave, so she childishly and innocently thinks she hates boys),   so when astrid asked for her daughter’s idea, zephyr just blurted out a stuttered ‘ nuffink ’ --   instead of nothing , so this time nuffink will separate us from dad , just like the others and this   made hiccup a bit teary eyed, cause of the sincerity and concern zephyr has for her father. 

-  When zephyr hit 8 years of age and nuffink hit the age of 5, the two would almost stick to one    another, would play together and sleep together. The two had become close (except the ----    time when nuffink was born , almost baby zephyr would get jealous cause momma astrid is     busy with her lil brother and she was sent under the care of her grandma. ) and nuffink is --    becoming more and more of her mother, but more gentle and diplomatic, he was protective    of his big sister in his small odd ways, like always walking behind her and whenever zephyr    gets excited or stumbles (since he was always hiding behind her big sister) , he would grab    her cape, sometimes braids to keep her from falling or hitting something. 

  ( I will add more later, kill me okey , bye)

[tysonrunningfox]

Feret Fluff

Kind of.  I don’t know.  It has angst too.  I hurt the girl.  I...am really struggling.  My epilogue is increasingly feeling like the beginning of a story I don’t get to write.  But here is feret.  Because. 

 00000

Fuse knew Eret through what had to be the most complicated year of his life, but that doesn’t mean she knows everything about him.  It’s not that she presumed to, even, but she learns a lot in the first three weeks after what illogically feels like his resurrection.

He’s more stubborn than she understands, especially because it makes things more difficult for him a majority of the time.  He’s determined to be upright, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much everyone wants him to lay down.  Before he jumped, Fuse always knew him as someone who collapsed to sit at the last possible instant, but she never realized how exaggerated it was until he insisted on staying awake as much as possible, even though he’s so hurt it hurts to look at him.  Fuse doesn’t understand that either but when his mom pulled the healed stitches out of his shoulder and temple, her stomach hurt like she was the one who’d been sliced open.  

Most of all though, he’s clingy.  Clingy in a sweet, unavoidable, flattering way. And every time she enters the room that Eret is in, it’s obvious and immediate in a way she doesn’t know how to deal with.  He’s all drunk, gentle hugs and big blue eyes and beseeching requests that she stay and get closer and she gets used to sleeping on the edge of the bed, his hand intertwined with hers and his head tilted into her shoulder.

But it’s Eret, and he’s strong and stubborn and insistent and before three weeks have passed he’s on his feet and answering the door when Fuse knocks.  She blinks at him and then at his chest, because instead of the crisp, white bandages she’s gotten so used to, the fireworm shaped scars across his ribs are exposed and his bandaged arm is hanging in a loose sling that looks way more comfortable than what he had before.

“Thank Thor you’re here,” he grabs her hand and starts dragging her inside, the lone fireworm scar on his arm flexing when his elbow bends.   They’re red but definitely healed, the edges of them crisp against pale skin that’s losing its freckles the longer he’s stuck inside.  “I’m so bored.”

“You got your bandages off,” Fuse states the obvious, looking down at his chest again and trying to get used to it.  Of course pulling a shirt over his broken arm is too much effort, considering it’s summer and he’s not going anywhere.  He was shy about it at first and until yesterday, bandaged enough that there wasn’t really anything exposed except collarbones and pale, ointment covered stomach.

Even with his arm in a sling, there’s more to look at now.

“Yes, and he’s obsessed with his new scars,” Aurelia says out of nowhere, startling Fuse enough that she looks away from Eret.  “I’ve got to go check on Stoick, apparently he was being a show off at dragon training yesterday.  You got him?”  She points at Eret, who rests his forehead on Fuse’s shoulder, his hair tickling her jaw.

“You could tell him to bring Bang back,” his breath still has an edge of mead to it but he seems clearer than he has.

“Why?”  Aurelia pauses in the doorway, “you aren’t flying until your ribs are healed.  Healer’s orders.”

“Mom paid them off to say that,” he huffs, standing back up straight and glaring outside.

“They still said it.”  Aurelia shrugs, “see you guys later.”  She shuts the door and Eret groans, staring up at the ceiling for a second before looking back at Fuse.

“I’m not obsessed with my scars,” he clarifies, like that matters, and all it does is make Fuse look back down at them.  She reaches out and touches one without thinking, her thumb tracing the warm edge, against his rib and he hisses.

“Sorry--” She jerks her hand back and he catches her wrist.

“No, it’s fine, it just--they kind of feel funny, I guess, and I think the ointment made my skin sensitive or something.”  He laughs, shifting his sling to the side and looking down at himself.  “They are kind of cool though, right?”

She looks up at the crescent of barely healed dragon tooth marks around his shoulder, each ringed with a yellowing bruise, and at the line across his collarbone and its twin on his temple.

“I don’t like you being hurt.”  Her voice seems too small under the high ceiling and Eret takes her hand, gently placing it flat against the scars and pressing it to his skin.

“They don’t hurt anymore.”  He’s smiling at her and she keeps waiting to get used to the warmth in her chest and the way her heart stutters, but maybe it’s not something she can get used to because she feels herself flush.  “Turns out whatever Rolf said about Fireworm mucus or whatever is actually probably true, they healed faster than my other burns.”  He frowns and moves his hand from the back of hers to her upper arm, rubbing lightly.  “Not that I’m happy about mucus, because that’s weird.”

She can feel his heartbeat in her palm and the unscarred skin under her fingertips is smooth and warm over his ribs.  It takes self control she hasn’t been using much lately to pull her hand away, especially because Eret starts playing with the end of her braid, his finally focused eyes drifting over her face.

“If it helped you heal faster, I’m happy about it.”

“But it’s mucus,” he shudders, rolling his shoulder and wincing when it nudges his ribs. He blinks against the pain and shuffles closer to her, bare foot nudging the toe of her boot.  The lack of boundaries that was endearing when he was nearly incoherent is different now that he’s upright and making sense.  “Which I’m still talking about for some reason.  Mucus.  Blech.  I’m going crazy in here,” he tucksher hair behind her ear and looking out the window, fingertips lingering against the side of her neck.  “And it’s such a nice day,” he pouts, jutting his lower lip out and looking at her meaningfully, his hand sliding down to her shoulder.

“What?”  She swallows, glancing at his lips.  He’s still hurt, even if he’s doing better.  And he’s stubborn and in pain and refusing to admit it.  And the idea of kissing it better is absurd, and not based in logic, and he just keeps asking because he wants to kiss her.  It wouldn’t actually make him feel better.

“Can we go outside?”  He sighs like she missed something obvious and his lips quirk into that uneven smile he got in the habit of when the bruise on his jaw was still black and blue instead of the nearly faded yellow it is now.  “Please?  It’s not like I’ll explode if I set foot across the threshold,” he gestures at the door and she misses his hand on her shoulder as the guilt she can’t seem to shake swirls in her stomach.  She crosses her arms and takes a step back.

“You’re just asking me because you think I’ll let you.”

“I’m asking you because you’re logical,” he reaches for her waist and pulls her back closer to him.  He bats his eyelashes like it’s a joke and Fuse can’t figure out what part of this is supposed to be funny.  “And pretty.”

None of it is funny.  Not the way he’s looking at her or the fact that he can bring up blowing up so casually.  Or his bare chest covered in scars reminding her that he came so close to not being here at all.  Or his gentle hand on her waist and the way that he keeps touching her while looking a lot less hurt than she knows he actually is.

Everything about him makes her want to act before thinking about it.

“Who told you that you couldn’t go outside?”  She forces her full attention back to his face and that doesn’t really help anything.  Oddly, he’s better rested while healing and there are no dark circles under his eyes to distract from that focused blue.  It’s darker around his pupil and maybe that’s why he can seem so intense even while he’s goofing off.

“That’s the thing,” he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, “no one has explicitly told me not to go outside, they’re all just very adamant that I stay right here.  So, to go outside and get some sun on my pasty, pasty face is only violating the spirit of the thing.”

Fuse purses her lips and swallows, glancing down at his sling and the scattered deep red scars and the way that they almost match the strip of red hair leading down from his belly-button.  And it’s quiet and the weight of her vest doesn’t remind her to move slowly or carefully, because the roof isn’t going anywhere.

So maybe they should.

“Fine.”  She steps away with a full chest exhale and opens the door, squinting at the suddenly harsh light.

“That was easier than I thought,” Eret walks past her, holding his good hand up to block the light.  The bruises on his back stand out against the pale glow of his skin and that sends another pang through Fuse’s chest, because those have to still hurt.  Either he’s pretending they don’t or everything has hurt so bad it warped his perspective. “And see?”  He turns and grins at her, looking down at his arm, “no spontaneous combustion.”  

“That’s not funny.”  It comes out more harshly than she intended but she doesn’t want to take it back either, even when Eret’s smile fades and he cocks his head at her, corners of his mouth downturned.  

It was hard to be mad at him after Snoggletog.  It’s harder now, because he’s hurt and she was more scared than she was mad, anyway, but the fear is fading faster than the anger.  

“Fuse,” he says her name gently, like he’s the one comforting her, and she feels as bad for bringing it up as he should for making her.  

“No, it’s not funny.  You shouldn’t make jokes about blowing up.”  She clears her throat because seeing all those scars in the sunlight makes them look like they’re still burning.  “Because you almost did.”

“But I didn’t,” he reaches for her hand and folds their fingers together, because his first instinct when either of them is upset is to touch her and she wouldn’t have known that if he’d…blown up.

“You did your best.”  She pulls her hand away and crosses her arms, like he won’t read her quite as well if he’s not touching her.  That doesn’t make sense, but he started answering questions she hadn’t asked yet right around the time he started touching her at every opportunity.  And it is Eret.  Logic and science haven’t ever applied to him the same as they do to everyone else.

“Look, I get—that was bad phrasing,” his hand flails by his hip for a second like he’s not sure what to do with it if she’s not letting him hold hers, and that piles onto the guilt in her stomach like a glaze that’s meant to set and hold.  “I won’t say it again,” he snorts to himself, that little half laugh that means he thought of something funny at an unexpected moment.  Usually, she wants to hear what it is, but when he opens his mouth to keep talking, her stomach drops again, “Odin knows if I actually wanted to get blown up, all I’d have to do is piss you off.  Which I’ve done,” he blanches, reaching halfway for her hand before stopping himself, “I’m sorry.”

She knows he’s not being literal.  She knows that.

But she also knows she hasn’t been able to think about lighting anything up without imagining him in the way of it.  She hasn’t thought about getting a new knife in case it leads him to something else as dangerous as the first one did.

And somehow, he’s going to be ok.  In spite of her, not because of her.  She came to terms with the fact that accidents don’t matter with explosives years ago, the first time she took off an eyebrow because her hands were shaking.  But until Eret was dumb and brave and determined enough to jump straight into the path of her biggest explosion yet, it was only ever her risk.

And her risk was always calculated and rewarded and worth it.  His wasn’t.  Isn’t.  

How could he ever trust someone who blew him up?  Why does that feel like something she can’t ask him?  

Part of her thinks it’s the first time since he was clueless about the chief that she’s ahead of him on something.  She’s thought of an angle that he hasn’t and she really doesn’t want him to catch up.  

“You really scared us,” she clears her throat, looking back up at him and sighing at the way he’s standing, like it’s difficult for him to give her space but he’s trying.  It makes her giddy and furious and guilty and she feels like one of the bombs she isn’t making right now, all powerful feelings mixed in unknown proportions, liable to explode.  “You really scared me.  I thought...I thought you were gone.”  

“I guess I wasn’t there for that part,” he frowns, looking at his feet, and she puts two fingers under his chin, lifting it until he looks at her, eyes sheepish.  She’s happy that he’s listening and guilty that she brought it up and the two mix with the anxious flutter in her chest when he bites his lip and exhales.  Something about Eret makes it impossible to keep things separate.  It’s like all the walls inside of her turn to mesh and the space in her own head without boundaries almost scares her.  “I...my family used to think I was so fragile that they wouldn’t tell me the truth about anything.  I didn’t--I mean, I still don’t want them to start thinking that again.  I can’t...I don’t think I can convince them again, you know, it was really painful the first time and...” he waves his hand around like it can speak for him and she takes her fingers off of his chin, catching his flailing fingers in hers.  

He squeezes her hand and looks relieved and it makes her want to say something.  She doesn’t understand it yet, but the more he talks to her just for the sake of talking, the more she feels like she should say things to him.  She doesn’t know what she’d say, honestly, because everything in her head is dark and sad and muddled but he’s looking at her like he wants her to say something encouraging.  Or do something, maybe.  

And he’s hurt.  But he’s vertical.  And mapped out with scars and ribs and muscles as landmarks and looking at him is almost as confusing as touching him.  

“You’re not fragile,” she tries and his eyes light up like he’s been waiting to hear it.  And he expects her to keep talking, because that’s the only reason he wouldn’t start talking himself.  

A silent Eret isn’t really something she should waste, especially when he’s also upright and mostly sober, so she leans up onto her toes and kisses him.  He makes a surprised, muffled sound against her lips and she leans into him, placing the hand he isn’t holding on his chest, her thumb against one of those new smooth scars.  

They’re warmer than the skin around them, almost as warm as Eret’s lips moving sweetly against hers and he’s so alive and himself that she can’t stop worrying about him.  She’s scared he’s going to go do something like that again and she wants to give him a reason to stay.  He’s got enough scars, he doesn’t need any more of them.  She slips her tongue into his mouth and must lean against his arm too much because he grunts, pulling back slightly.  

“Sorry,” she drops her hand from his chest too quickly and jostles his sling.  He winces again and her palm tingles where it’s not touching him anymore.  

“No, don’t be.  What was that for?”  He tries and fails not to smile, his joking tone warmer than usual.  “Because I want to be sure to repeat whatever I did to make you kiss me like that.”  

Her heart thuds and she shakes her head.  

“You don’t have to do anything.”  Especially not repeat anything that makes her remember how miraculous it is that he’s still here with her.  “Just keep getting better.”  

He grins and raises an eyebrow, “is it the scars?”  

“No,” she frowns, her face heating up when he narrows his eyes at her like he’s got her all figured out.  She looks down at his chest again and shrugs, shoving the urge to touch him again down and pressing her free palm against the side of her leg.  “I’m just glad you got the bandages off.”  

“Me too,” he’s authentic and then nervous, his hand stiffening in hers, “oh.  I--I mean, I don’t know how I’d get on a shirt over my arm, so I just didn’t.”  He shrugs and winces, the motion pulling on his ribs.  

“It’s fine,” Fuse looks at his shoulders, the pale freckles asserting themselves already after only a few minutes in the sun.  

“Gods, Eret,” Arvid appears out of seemingly nowhere, Wingspark walking behind him with her scaly head hung low.  “There should be a warning, I tried to fly over and your pasty chest practically blinded Wing.”  

“No, it didn’t,” Eret drops Fuse’s hand and tries to cover himself, squirming for a moment before giving up and slouching.  

“She’s traumatized.”  Arvid scratches Wingspark’s chin and gives Fuse a lukewarm nod in greeting.  

“What are you doing here?  Aren’t you supposed to be working with Dad?”  Eret shuffles halfway behind Fuse, like he’s hiding, but he rests his chin on her shoulder and wraps his arm around her waist too, like he’s enjoying it.  Fuse blushes and Arvid either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.  She bets it’s the second, given how many times he’s caught them close to each other in the last few weeks.  

She’s not sure why she still cares, honestly.  But she does, and as with everything Eret influences, she’s learning to accept it as it is.  

“Looking for Aurelia.”  Arvid shrugs.  “Fish ran dry, all the dragons are really hungry, apparently.”  

“She went to pick up Stoick, I think.”  Eret sighs, “you want to wait for her?”  

“Sure,” Arvid points Wing to the barn.  

“If that’s ok,” Eret mumbles nearly in Fuse’s ear and she jumps, her hand landing on the arm around her waist.  

“It’s fine,” she shrugs, twisting gently out of his grip.  He checked with her because he wants to be alone and he’d ask Arvid to leave if she asked him to.  She knows that.  

And she wants him to, almost, except she’s not sure what she’d do and she doesn’t like that feeling.  As much as she’s fine with Eret overwhelming her, she hasn’t really accepted the idea that she’ll end up overwhelmed.  

[maedarakat]

A long time ago, I stumbled upon this deleted scene from “Gift of the Night Fury” involving Astrid’s fun new tradition - ‘Missing Toe’. It gave me the idea to write a little rare-pair ficlet. Though the holidays are ‘technically’ over, I hope you guys enjoy this ancient repost of mine, in which Eret encounters Snoggletogg for the first time.

---------

“Under the Missing Toe”

He’d traveled the world, encountered many cultures, but there was no doubt about it … Berk won hands down for the strangest name for a winter holiday.

Snoggletog was odd but certainly not unenjoyable. So far there were kids running around in costumes roaring at dragons, and people sneaking from house to house to hide gifts. The latter was a rather accidentally invented tradition, a very embarrassed-looking Astrid had told him. (Okay, that was a story she wasn't going to get away without telling!)

He was finding it all oddly charming until Ruffnut ran into him - literally and without apology, as she was wont to do since she’d met him.

"Hey, gorgeous. Wanna play a game?"

"Uh, not particularly, no." Eret stepped back and she stepped forward, flirting him into a literal corner.

"Come on, get in the spirit! We should play Missing Toe."

Eret wrinkled his nose in polite confusion, eyes darting sideways for a venue of escape. Just as he was about to make a dignified retreat (under the nearest table), the girl pointed up toward the rafters.

At a dismembered body part, bedecked with festive red berries and leaves tied around it.

“Missing Toe,” Ruffnut explained loudly, over Eret’s horrified head-turning screams, “Is a party game with some guy’s toe that fell off. Frostbite: it happens! Now,” she grinned wolfishly. “Pucker up and kiss me, you son of an Eret.”

“What?! K-Kiss you? Why on earth would that be an even remotely sane thing to do under some putrid, decaying -”

“Hey!” Ack shouted from the crowd, offended, “That’s my dad’s toe you’re talking about!”

“ … you have my sincerest apologies,” Eret retorted in sarcastic bewilderment, and Ruffnut advanced another step.

“Not even just a little kiss? It’s a Berk tradition,” she pouted saucily. There was muffled snickering from the Vikings surrounding them, but nobody bothered to correct the young woman. This was more entertaining to watch than the actual tradition anyway; Astrid’s quick fist always got the drop on everyone and it had turned the betting pool rather stagnant.

Eret was practically climbing the wall. “I really don’t think-”

“MISSING TOE! OOOH, I LOVE Missing Toe!” a voice yelled above the din. Ruff’s face was the picture of resentment as she was suddenly shoved to the side.

“Don’t waste it on her!” Tuff grinned at the confused and alarmed man before pointing to his own mouth. “Right here! Give it to me HARD, I want to taste blood!”

“ … WHAT?!”

“Aye, give it to him!” someone who sounded suspiciously like Valka yelled.

“Yeah, it’s tradition, Eret,” Snotlout chimed in, grinning.

“Go on, right in the mouth! Like the lad asked for!” Gobber winked at him, grinning.

Well, the crowd wasn’t about to let him get away without doing it. Eret growled in exasperation before grabbing the front of Tuffnut’s shirt and yanking the young man forward.

“Eret, NO!” Ruff wailed.

“Eret, YES!” Fishlegs cheered, happy no-one was kissing his crush.

“MMRRRWHHT!?!” Tuff flailed as he felt his lips kissed so hard they actually kind of hurt. Eret dropped him and stalked away, face reddening as multiple people clapped him on the back.

Others, like Snotlout and Gobber, were fairly crying with laughter and holding each other upright as the luckless Tuff sat up, dazed and breathless. Maybe even a little smitten.

“I think I liked that …”

“You ruin EVERYTHING!” Ruff yelled, stomping toward him.

“Hey sis, I can totally see why you - OWWWWW! OWOWOWOW!"

Eret shook his head and accepted the offered cup of mead from a friendly hand. He couldn’t seem to stop the fire raging in his cheeks. “Berkians are freaking weird,” he muttered into his drink, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he thought that.

[justgotawesome]

Turns out, that was the best Snoggletog ever. That year, I gave my best friend a pretty great gift. But he gave me a better one!

HAPPY SNOGGLETOG EVERYONE!

[justgotawesome]

Hey everyone, first off happy first day of Snoggletog. So I know I just took October off from making gifs but I’m gonna be taking December off as well. On top of it being the month of Christmas (which isn’t too busy for me but there is the usual stuff that comes with it), I just really want to catch up on movies and shows, and finally get back to playing some video games. I’ve been lazily putting all those off for no good reason. Like always not feeling like committing to a film even though I have so many I really want to watch and instead watching videos on youtube for hours hahah.

anyway this blog will still be active of course, reblogging content every day. Plus I’m still gonna be making gifs for my main blog, and edits for my other two. As well as a few MCU videos, just posted a new one today too.

And I will be watching Homecoming when it comes out and if there’s any nice moments with the gang I’ll definitely gif those, if not I’m gonna be reblogging a ton of my GotNF gifsets throughout the month anyway. And then I’m definitely not gonna take any more months off next year (unless something big happens (like maybe if I get a job soon hahah)).

[tysonrunningfox]

Eret III: Frustrating Friends

Hey so this took forever.  And I’m sorry, mostly to Eret himself, who always feels like home as soon as I dig into him.  I’m really hoping to finish this as a kind of nano project because it’s been about 3 years since I started it and I should really put all these babies out of their misery (After inflicting more due to the outline that finally feels comprehensive but whatever).  So encouragement appreciated?  That sounds so bratty but I’ve really been flailing in my vacuum and I know Eret III isn’t a popular piece to turn to when I feel like that but it’s what I could reach.  

Previous Parts 

I hate how old the chief’s house is.  I really really hate it.  I used to think it was kind of cool, but when the stairs’ creak wakes me up to the enthusiastic pounding in my head, I take it all back.  I kind of remember getting home last night.  I remember the feast being a disaster and having to deal with my dad and Fuse being mad at me for some reason.  

I forgot to keep the fire going, because it’s freezing, and Bang clinging to me like he wants to sap all of the warmth out of my body isn’t helping anything.  But my head doesn’t want me to move and my stomach agrees so I curl further into the blankets.  

It doesn’t feel like long later when I hear someone, probably Mom because the stairs don’t creak again, kneeling in front of the fire and loading a couple of logs into it.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, a little amused in a way I don’t totally appreciate.  

“Kill me now.  Do it quick,” I pull the blanket all the way over my head when the light of the fire pierces my eyes even through my eyelids. “I trust you.”  

“Nope, you’ve taken too much effort to kill quickly,” she pats my leg through the blankets and I hear her get up and the dull clang of the old kettle.  “I’m going to make you some tea and you’re going to drink it and the next time I’m not watching you at a feast, you’re going to remember how you feel right now and not get so drunk again.”  

“That’s a lot of orders all at once,” I peek out into the room with one eye, trying to let it adjust even as it feels like it’s stabbing me, “I’m gonna forget the last like…three.”

“Of course you will.”

It takes a few tries, but I’m unsteadily sitting against Bang’s side by the time she pours me a cup of tea and gives me a stern look.  It’s not too stern though, there’s worry there and a general kind of contentment I don’t know if I’ve seen since everything fell apart.  She liked planning the feast.  She didn’t get to do that kind of thing with my dad, she only had us to order around and we never listened very fast or well.  

“The feast was good.” I try and compliment her even though she definitely already knows.  “I mean, it went well.  Not that I’ve been to many feasts but this one was good.”  

“I always kind of hated that we couldn’t take you kids,” she sighs, “I went overboard at home to make up for it but…that was a big childhood thing to me.  The Snoggltog feast with the whole village and everything.”  

“It was fun,” I lie, “I liked it at home even better though.  I didn’t have to dress up and Bang could be there.”  

“Dressing up once in a while isn’t going to kill you,” she looks at me kind of happy for a second, like she’s glad to know she didn’t fail at holidays when I was little.  I want to tell her that Arvid liked it too but that’s not mine to say anymore.  I know Ingrid would tell her if she were here but well, that’s another reason it didn’t feel like Snoggletog.  

Oddly, I didn’t miss Rolf.

“Maybe that’s what did me in, you don’t know.”  

“I think it was all of the mead you drank.”  She starts on breakfast and I force myself to my feet, stumbling the few steps to the table. The little bit of blood flow made me simultaneously more nauseous and less headachy and I rest my forehead on my hands.  

“Debatable.”  

Mom doesn’t find that worth answering and she silently refills my tea.  

“Good morning, you look like shit,” Aurelia comes down the stairs and tugs at my tied back hair.  I glare at her.  

“Good morning, you were out late,” I whisper the latter part and she glares at me like she can inflict physical damage with her eyes.  

I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly, but my head hurts too bad to care what she does to me.  

“Take a good look, Aurelia,” Mom gestures to me with the spatula she’s using to stir leftover mutton stew from the night before, “that’s what drinking like an idiot looks like.”

“Ew,” she sits down next to me and takes a drink of my tea because she’s a tiny, irritating, boundary-less human being.  

“No, this is what it looks like when everyone picks on me and takes my stuff,” I shoulder her away from my cup and drain it on principal, even though it makes my stomach swirl and churn.  I blink slowly, trying to stop the table from moving like a ship in rough surf.  

“No, you definitely look worse than usual,” Aurelia almost sounds compassionate as she gets up to refill my teacup.  She takes a sip anyway but sets it front of me.  

Stoick is the next one down the stairs, tripping over oversized socks that look like some I used to have.  He hugs mom’s leg and sits down across from Aurelia, swinging his legs and kicking the table leg with a rhythm that throbs in my temple.  

“Good morning!”  His high pitched little voice is like a battle axe to the back of the head and I sip my tea, nodding at him in acknowledgement.

“Keep your voice down,” Aurelia prompts him, “Eret drank a bunch of alcohol and now his head hurts and he’s uglier than normal.”  

“Careful with that,” I glare at her, “girl who looks like miniature me with more hair.”  

“You wish,” she scoffs.

“Admit it, we both have that Haddock—”

“Last name,” Mom cuts me off, pointing the spatula at me like it’s a weapon and she’s planning to demonstrate.  She looks at Stoick and back at me, like he’s never heard anyone swear before or something.

“He was going to say charm, I’m sure,” Aurelia puts on a big, fake smile, “we’ve both got that wholly likeable personality.”  

“That skipped me,” I elbow her and she rolls her eyes.  

“I know it did, but you wish it didn’t.”  

“Good morning!”  The chief comes down the stairs exaggeratedly slowly, yawning so loudly it’s like he wants to make me see double.  “I don’t know about you guys, but I slept great.”  

“Must have, I didn’t even hear you snoring,” Aurelia rolls her eyes, slumping down slightly, all desire to make fun of me reabsorbed for a later time when the chief isn’t there.  

“How about you guys?” The chief looks at us so briefly he doesn’t seem to notice I’m doing my best draugr impression before looking at Mom.

She’s red from pulling bread out of the hearth and because the chief is himself, he smiles like it has something to do with him, and if Stoick announcing his presence at the top of his lungs didn’t make me puke, this might.  

“I slept good.  I was tired,” Mom shrugs, more awkward than frosty, but not as nice as she’s been to him lately.  

I vaguely remember them getting me home last night.  I bet he said something stupid.  I hope they don’t start actively fighting again but I wouldn’t necessarily mind a little frost.  

“Why so quiet?”  The chief looks around again, “did I interrupt some important conversation?”  He asks like that’s not a really weird question to pose sleepy teenagers first thing in the morning.  

“Your children were arguing over who’s the most beautiful,” Mom rolls her eyes at me in particular, like she’s worried I’m not entirely aware that me being beautiful is the biggest joke of the year.  Like it’s not weird to group me as one of the chief’s children, out loud, and maybe it’s not anymore.  

“Oh, that’s easy.” The chief laughs and Aurelia almost looks ambivalent for a second, like she’s waiting to let something go over a stupid compliment she’s expecting.  “It’s Eret, he looks the most like you.”  He says that to Mom.  I wrinkle my nose.  She looks blank and still red and Aureila deflates slightly.  “I stuck the other two with way more of all this,” he gestures to himself and Mom smiles like she’s trying not to laugh.  

“I think I got plenty of that,” I scoff.   “And clearly, Stoick is the best looking.”  

Stoick nods about as seriously as an eight year old ever does, “I know.  I just didn’t want to make you guys feel bad.”  

I laugh at that even though it hurts, holding a closed fist out to him.  He looks at it for a second before gingerly bumping his tiny fist against mine.  The chief’s looking at us with that gross, dreamy, happy family face and Mom sets breakfast on the table.  The smell makes my stomach churn but she puts some on my plate anyway.  

“It’ll help,” she ruffles my hair and I don’t bat her hand away even though I probably should for laughing at the chief’s dumb jokes.  

“Hungover?”  The chief sits down next to me and looks concerned, and it’s not like letting me sleep in yesterday, it’s more personal.  Like he thinks because he made sure I didn’t freeze to death he’s got to make sure I’m not going to throw up.  

That incidentally makes me want to throw up.  

“What’s that?”  Stoick asks messing with his food like he’s not sure he wants to eat it.  No wonder he’s so small.  

“It’s the official word for drinking too much and getting sick,” Aurelia explains, pointing at Stoick’s plate, “and I’ll tell you more if you eat your whole breakfast.”  

He rolls his eyes and starts eating slow little bites.  I shouldn’t say that, because he is eating faster than me, because everything I put in my mouth goes to war with my gag reflex.  Ok, maybe that’s a lie, because the fifth bite goes down easier than the fourth and the sixth easier than the fifth.  I wonder if Mom’s ever been hungover or if she just took care of other people.  

If she ever was it was probably when she was young and that makes me look at the chief.  He’d know.  I’m not going to ask him because I hate acknowledging that he’d know, but he’d tell me.  

That’s something I’m still getting used to.  Sitting next to a book of answers so much of my time and being unwilling to open it.  

“Did you guys have fun at the feast?”  The chief asks, looking at me in particular, “before you got drunk, I mean. Did you at least get to talk to Fuse some?”  

“Don’t remind me,” I stab a piece of mutton much harder than necessary, scraping against the plate, “can we not play happy family breakfast right now?”  

“Just because you’re snappy, doesn’t mean you get to snap,” Mom chastises me and it takes me a second to realize that she’s essentially defending the chief’s right to ask about things that are none of his or anyone’s business.  

“I wasn’t snapping,” I snap and she looks at me like I’m a kid again even though I haven’t felt like one in a while.  Because when they don’t need me to be an adult, I go straight back to being a child.  “I just don’t want to talk about it.”  

Mom opens her mouth to say something else but the chief cuts her off.  

“It’s ok, Astrid,” he shrugs and it’s not his usual ‘I’ll do anything to make Eret my best friend’ kind of unaffected.  I don’t like that, necessarily, because when he makes me mad the least courtesy he could give me is getting mad in return, but I also don’t necessarily want my mom yelling at me when every word causes physical pain.  “I’m not going to let a little hungover testiness ruin my excellent mood.”  

“You’re better at that than me, I guess,” Mom sighs and she’s still weirdly pink, like it’s hot in here when it really isn’t, especially since I let the fire die out last night.  “I’ll just need a pick me up later when my mouthy son is out of the house.”  

The chief drops his fork on the floor.  I look at Aurelia to laugh at him together but she’s staring at her plate, mouth tight-lipped closed.  I hate it. I hate how there’s one dynamic when the chief isn’t here and another when he is and that Mom doesn’t seem to notice or care.  I take the last bite of my breakfast all at once, forcing it down a dry throat and standing up.  

“Well, I’ll make that sooner rather than later.  Bang needs breakfast.  Aurelia, do you want to help?”  

“Fine,” she stands up, grabbing her coat off of the hook by the door.  

“Are you offering to take Stoick too?  Or…” The chief narrows his eyes and looks at me like he does when he’s searching for some part of himself that just isn’t there and I shrug.  

“The academy is closed today, isn’t it?”  

His face falls slightly and he shrugs and nods and generally makes a fool of himself for no apparently reason.  Mom glares at him.  I have no idea what he did to piss her off but I don’t really feel like sticking around to find out.  

“After you feed Bang I have some things for you to do later,” the chief looks at Mom like she has to approve him making me work or something and I nod.  

“Whatever.”  

It’s as cold outside as it was yesterday, Aurelia’s breath frustrated little puffs as she grumbles under her breath for a minute, getting it out of her system before Bang walks up beside her and nudges her hand with his nose.  She barely jumps, and I hate to say it but all that time with Wingspark has been good for her nerves.  He trills at her and she pats his head.  

“Sorry your little brother’s beauty is surpassing yours,” I bump my shoulder against hers and she snorts.

“He’s going to cause a pubescent riot in a few years, that’s for sure.  We all know how Berk girls love short and scrawny.”  She looks me up and down and raises her eyebrows. “Oh.  Right.”  

“I’m not short,” I huff, “I’m just glad you aren’t chipper this morning either.  What was that?”  

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “they’ve been getting along lately, it didn’t seem any different.  My dad still doesn’t acknowledge me when he walks in a room so I haven’t noticed much change.”  

“It might help the acknowledgement thing if you didn’t go silent every time he comes around,” I wince when the sun comes out briefly from behind a cloud.  It’s dimmer closer to the piled high snow berm and I hide there, patting Bang on the tail and urging him to go find his own fishing ground. Normally I’d go with him but I think for the first time in my life the idea of flying makes me woozy.  

“Like that’d help anything.”

“It’d make it harder to pretend like everything is sunshine and rainbows,” I tuck my hands in my pockets and wish I’d grabbed a jacket.  

“It is, to him.”  She has a rare, vulnerable expression on her face that makes me want to hug her.  “Me quiet, you being lame about Fuse, Stoick being beautiful.”  

“What do you mean me being lame about Fuse?”  I huff, “I have no idea why she got mad at me last night, I was kind of busy—”

“Being a drunk jerk?”

“Yeah, sure, after I was done dealing with my dad and Arvid’s death glares and—”

“Eret, come on, be honest with me.  There’s absolutely nothing on Midgard that you’ve done or haven’t done that would make Fuse less than happy with you?  Nothing she’s indicated in her behavior or—”

“No!  I thought we were making progress with the plan. Maybe not for a while because I got so busy with getting beat up and Snoggletog and all but…I thought things were fine.”  

“Right,” she looks at me like I’m profoundly stupid and it feels like a great, cosmic injustice that after years of watching Arvid get that face, it’s Aurelia who turns it back on me, “the plan is going well.  That’s the thing.”  

“What?  I thought it was,” I pause, frowning and trying to remember where we left off.  “Oh!”  

“Oh?”  She waves me on with her hand, “oh what? Explain your ‘oh’.”

“I forgot to make her the thing,” I gesture towards where Bang just was and she stares at me like I’m crazy, “the thing for the plan.  The baffle thing.  I was going to model it after Bang and she got me a sketch and everything and I haven’t made it yet.  That’s got to be it.”  

“What?”  

“I was going to make her this baffle thing for the plan and I haven’t done it yet and it’s been like a month, no wonder she’s pissed at me.”  

“A baffle?  A stupid piece of metal?  That’s why you thinks she’s mad at you?”  

“It’s not stupid, she designed it herself, it can aim an explosion more specifically than anything else she’s tried.”  

“Oh my gods,” Aurelia smacks herself in the forehead, hard enough to leave a temporary red mark, “you’re an idiot.”  

“Don’t rub it in, I feel awful about it.”  I’m not exaggerating, I sort of do feel terrible.  Fuse has been so much help with well…everything.  And she was the only person who didn’t treat me any different than she did a year ago until I had to go mess it up by ignoring a request that she was only working on for me.  

“About not making her baffle.  Right.” She shakes her head.  “Better fix that.  I’m sure Fuse will be thrilled with you then.”  

“I have no time,” I kick the icy path at our feet and sigh, “and I can’t ask Gobber to do it because he’ll know something’s up.”  

“We could go at night again.”  

“And risk being caught by the chief?”  I laugh, “I’m not quite sure he’s busy enough with the post-snoggletog work to give me that much of a leash.”  

“You could talk to Fuse about it, maybe, she can clarify that she really is, in fact, mad about you forgetting to make her a baffle.”  Aurelia shrugs, “just a thought.  Communication never hurt anyone.”  

“Yeah, I’m not going to be the first.  Approaching an angry Fuse after pissing her off doesn’t seem like a good way to keep all my limbs and with them the gulf in my paternal resemblance in tact.”  I sigh and whistle to call Bang back, because I know what I’ve got to and I don’t really want to do it.  “I can ask Smitelout if she’s working today.”  

Aurelia looks like she’s about to say something but she falters, “ok.  Go for it.”  She waves and keeps walking down the hill and before I can ask where she’s going she calls back, “I’m going to go see Arvid.”  

“I didn’t want to know that.”  

“Go see Smitelout, because you’d rather talk to her than Fuse and all.”  

“I actually really wouldn’t,” I mumble under my breath as I turn around and head back towards the house, trusting Bang to find me on the way.  

00000

The other side of the forge window doesn’t feel like home.  The inside probably wouldn’t either, because even from halfway across the square I can see that all my tools aren’t where they should be.  I know that Gobber said he wasn’t going to let me abandon projects, but that seems more like he just wanted to nag me one last time, because I haven’t heard anything else of it.  

Smitelout is at the bellows, pumping them more easily than I ever had and scowling into the flames.  I knock on the side of the window and she looks at me and maybe that’s not a scowl, that’s just her face.  

“Gobber’s not here, twerp.”

“Come on,” I sigh, already wishing I hadn’t come down here.  But it’s for Fuse, I tell myself, it’s so that she can get her part without me holding her up anymore.  

“Ok, Chiefling Twerp,” she smirks like that’s the height of comedy, “Gobber isn’t here.”

“That’s ok,” I try not to sound mad, because she’s not going to do what I want if I yell at her and I don’t think she’d take an order, “I actually wanted to ask you something.”  

“For tips?” She gestures at the forge, a half finished battle axe on the anvil. It doesn’t look bad enough at this distance to pick it apart and I feel that forced pleasant expression slipping. “I’ve fixed a lot of your fuck ups, I could teach you how, I guess.”  

“Those were weapons from the forest fire, Smitelout.”  

“Well yeah, but they were all fucked up and now they’re not.”  

“But I didn’t fuck them up.”  

“And you didn’t fix them,” she still manages to gloat and I swallow against the overwhelming will to tell her exactly where she can shove my supposed fuckups.  

“No, because I got a different job.  But now I need something special forged so I was hoping you could help me out with that.”  I pull the drawing out of my pocket, unfolding it along well worn creases. They’re slightly neater than Fuse’s original folds, but when she hands me a balled up drawing there’s only so much I can flatten it out.  

Smitelout gives me a stink eye even her dad might be proud of when she sees the smudged drawing.  

“You want me to make you some dumb thing?”  

“It’s not dumb,” I snap, sighing to get that back under control, “it’s something for Fuse.  Some special project thing.  I told her I’d make it but I haven’t had time.”  

“So you want me to do a favor to your girlfriend for you?”  She snorts, “I’ve got actual shit to do here.”  

“What? Fuse isn’t my girlfriend?”  I look over my shoulder, half expecting to see Arvid putting Smitelout up to this, but that would require him talking to her and the world isn’t quite that different yet.  “And it’s a special project for the chief.”  I lie, well, half lie, because Fuse is refining her tactic on things the chief is asking her to do.  “She just asked me for it because I could make it.  She’s not my girlfriend.”  

“That’s super believable,” Smitelout rolls her eyes, “what does the chief want?”  

“For Fuse to blow things up, that’s why it’s Fuse’s project.”  

“Why’s it a secret?”  

“It’s not a secret,” I cross my arms, “you just don’t need to know about it.”

That makes Smitelout mad, the kind of mad that’s rewarding and kind of scary all at once when I remember Ingrid isn’t around to back me up. Smitelout always ignores Arvid but Ingrid pisses her off.  Probably because they’re the same age, Ingrid had all of dragon training to get under her skin.  And nothing gets under Smitelout’s skin like the implication that she’s not the most important person in the Thor-damn room.  

“So I’m supposed to take a break from fixing all those weapons you fucked up—”

“A forest fire fucked them up.”  

“To make a secret, badly drawn part for your girlfriend so that she can blow something secret up?”  Smitelout raises an eyebrow like she made an obvious point and I pinch the bridge of my nose.  

“It’s not secret.”  

“Right, like Thorston doesn’t brag about everything she blows up.”  

“Fuse doesn’t brag,” I shake my head, looking at her like she’s crazy, which she is, “plus, even if she did, she deserves to because no one else could do what she does.”  

“I think pretty much anyone can blow shit up.  I have a monstrous nightmare for Odin’s sake.” Smitelout looks at the drawing anyway, annoyed that she’s even vaguely interested in it, “and how the hell would I make this anyway? There’s no flat edges on it, your girlfriend doesn’t know how metal works.”  

“You just work around it multiple times,” I wish I had the time to do it myself because this is sounding more and more like whatever she comes up with isn’t going to be right.  And after waiting so long, the least I could do is make the stupid part right.  “It sounds like you’re the one who needs tips.”

“That still leaves flat spots, didn’t Gobber teach you anything?”  

“Not if you don’t heat it up as much.”  I almost climb through the window to just show her, but I’ve got to go get the barrels back down to the docks and Bang is already up there helping and someone has to find a force to clean out the hanger to get ready for babies to come back and why do Vikings have to be so stubborn.  

That’s a weird thought.  Thinking about it like us and them, and Gods, I sound like the chief.  Like something about his “we’re different” diatribe made its way into my head enough to stick there.  

She’s no different than me, well she is, but I’m a Viking.   Hell, I’m her second cousin or something and the Hoffersons are the most stubborn family on the island to exist for twenty five years when no one wanted us to.  I don’t need to talk to her like the chief, all placid expression and coddling.  I need to talk to her like it’s me or Arvid and we’re sure something is impossible.  

“Yeah, if you don’t heat it up you can’t shape it, idiot.”  She rolls her eyes.  

“Maybe you’re just not strong enough to shape it when it’s cool enough to hold a curve, not your fault, I guess I’ll drop it.”  

“What?”  She turns red, crossing her arms and huffing, “your arm is as big as my pinky, twerp, this isn’t about strength.”  

“It’s either about strength or ability, I could give you those tips—”

“Fuck off,” she picks up the drawing and tacks it to the wall above the anvil that used to be mine, “I’ll have it to you in three days and when it’s perfect, I get to punch you in the face, no questions asked.”  

“Fine,” I’m relieved even as my jaw still aches from Arvid’s irritation with my face’s existence, “I don’t get why everyone wants to hit me in the face so bad, but fine.”  

“Get a mirror,” she yells over the roar of the forge as she starts pumping at the bellows again with renewed effort.