#im enraged how devious he is

[numberonetrashwitch]

Now, as mentioned in my previous run; I wanted to romance Wyll. But seeing that i also want Karlach in my party he kinda ... just said he couldn't... for obvious reasons

Spoilers include: Past-Goblin Camp The Necronomicon

So, after the celebebration i decided to hook up with Astarion. He was actually last on my list, bc motherfucker he is written to appeal to my inner teenager, the feminine part of me, and my naive & romantic part. You know the one, the part that wants to be deeply in love with a flawed slut of a man who somehow thinks he is beyond everything and everyone but also elevates you, almost worships you merely for existing. I savescummed through all the interactions one by one and literally just went with the one that felt most "real". Him showing his scars and being all defensive was real.

Aaaaaanyway. Then i handed him the in-universe version of the Necronomicon, in hopes he can seperate from his master. Thats it. Next i saw the (!) above his head and decided to talk to him and ...

OH BOY

That fucker really and i mean really turned into a classical romance poet just to tell you he loves you .... as a .. not really convincing lie to get you to sleep with him? I think i get the hype now, at least a bit.

Holy shit either this fucker stays with me or im the one who kills him.

[trashtrap]

THIS. I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC SO MUCH AND ITS A SHAME THE SHEER COMEDY OF IT ISNT USED MORE.

Imagine they had to TEAM UP. They go through a horrific, brutal fight where they both barely make it out alive. Sanemi had to work together with Nezuko and even came out respecting her a little. Tanjiro saves Sanemi at one point.

There’s a moment at the end where you think they’ll finally form a begrudging alliance.

There is not. They instead have a fistfight in the butterfly mansion garden at 3am because Sanemi said some more unhinged bullshit that Tanjiro COULD NOT abide. It took every kakushi in a five mile radius and Shinobu’s tranquilizers to separate them.

Tanjiro personally hand wraps the snacks and goes with giyuu to deliver the Ohagi.

Chaos ensues.

Tanjiro’s so funny, man can't hold a grudge to save his life, he WILL befriend as many traumatized little bitches as he can (partially so he doesn't have to deal with his own trauma he has GOALS OKAY). Except for Sanemi. Sanemi is a bitch he does NOT respect and he will (politely) tell him to his face. Sanemi, who is a grown ass man, has accepted this grudge with the most polite fifteen year in Japan and they WILL throw hands on sight. They have be Separated. Tanjiro still plans on helping Giyuu make snacks for Sanemi.

[jareththegoblinpeasant]

Alone in Stark Tower

Another day in Stark Tower. Boring. And lonely. Loki wasn't too hopeful; he was upset because while everyone else was out doing cool things for approximately a week, you had the great honor of babysitting duty.

You had hope for this boring day, however. Loki seemed to be in an alright mood, so you decided you would ask him a question.

Loki sat on his bed, reading a book contently. He heard a faint and almost timid knock on his door. "Come in." He responded gently.

His voice is deceiving, you reminded yourself. As you opened the door, your once found confidence faded away. Loki had to refrain from laughing at you; you looked so scared by a man just reading.

"Can I help you?" Loki asked as you closed his door.

You opened your mouth but no sound came out.

Loki looked at you over the pages of his book. "Y/N?"

You eventually found your words. "I- is it good? Y- your book?"

Loki hid a smile behind his book. "Yes, its quite entertaining."

You nodded, your gaze shifting to your miss matched socks. "Loki?" You voiced after a moment.

"Yes?"

You couldn't back down now. Loki wasn't trying to kill anyone and he wasn't enraged. "Ha- have you ever, um, you know what, nevermind. Sorry for bothering you." You turned to leave, but Loki blocked your path, giving you a start.

You gasped and he smirked. "You had a question for me?"

You loved his way of saying normal things but somehow turning them into a tease. It gave you butterflies but not in a romantic way, more so a playful way.

"Have I ever..." He started you off.

You sighed. "Had a play fight... Before?" You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly overly-timid, your cheeks flushing red. You didn't know why this happened whenever you asked someone about themselves.

Loki stared down at you. "Have I ever had a play fight? Y/N, I have a brother." He chuckled.

"Right, just wondered." You nodded, showing you were ready to leave.

Loki ignored this. "Is it a war you're wanting, Y/N?" He knew how easily you turned pink and was relentless using this power against you. Loki smirked with a playful glint in his blue eyes. "Because if that's what you are wanting," He stepped away from the door, "You shall receive."

Loki knew how you liked play fights to go. He observed you and Peter almost everyday fighting each other and the banter between you.

Why is he always using that teasing tone with me, you wondered. He knows how it makes me feel...

While you were lost in your thoughts, Loki had placed a marker in his book and set it aside. He snuck up behind you and lifted you in the air and away from the black hole that was your mind.

You shrieked, not expecting him to initiate the battle, or that quickly. Loki laughed and tossed you on the bed, straddling you. "The least you could do is fight back, Y/N. Shy today, aren't we?" His voice dripping with playfulness.

You looked up into his eyes and, unwillingly, a smile accompanied your stare.

"Leaving it to me then, hm? I suppose I'll start." Loki's eyes shone with some devious plan no amount of staring could decode.

You felt yourself being flipped over swiftly and your hands held behind your back. "I've got you stuck now, Y/N. You best fight back." Loki sang.

You quickly tried to steal one of your hands away, but Loki was too strong. He just laughed again. "I suppose you can have your hands returned."

You took this as him giving up. As soon as you were back in control of your hands, you rolled over underneath Loki and grabbed his hands. You held them above your head. "Sounded like you were giving up for a moment." You said.

"Y/N, Y/N, I never surrender. I thought you knew that." Loki's eyebrow lifted slightly, causing you to blush again.

You saw Loki was only properly kneeling on one knee, so you grabbed his ankle that was planted by you and yanked it, causing him to fall on top of you. You pushed him off the bed using your legs, one of which he grabbed onto, forcing you on the floor with him.

You both landed in a position to form a cross, Loki underneath. He did not like being forced into submission. Loki planted his hand on your back and rolled you off of him. He was now on top.

"As it should be, me in control." Loki teased.

You wrapped yourself around one of his long legs and snaked your other leg around his other leg, immobilizing him.

"What do you say, Y/N? Im not so bad, now am I?" He rested his hand on the floor next to your side. "Now, to become the Soldier."

Your eyes widened in fear. Loki did not seem like the type of person to ever play like Steve.

Steve liked making you laugh when you warred. Countless times he had brought you to tears.

"Don't think I don't see your little fights, Y/N, I know exactly what you like." Loki hissed in your ear. Without warning, the hand a laid on the floor was placed on your side. You tensed immediately.

"Thats right, Y/N. Loki knows all." He smirked at your reaction. He suddenly picked you up again, flinging you onto his bed once more.

Loki quickly grabbed your wrists in one hand and held them above your head. Some spell suddenly held then together and weighed them down.

"You used magic, not fair!" You whined. Loki brought his hand onto your chest and hushed you.

"Its too late to establish rules, Y/N." Loki said. "Now, I do remember countless times when Captain poked your tummy," He half-whispered, "and other time he dragged his finger down your foot." He was relentless with the teasing. You began to turn red again.

"Why are you red? Afraid I'll know your secret? Or is it because you love the playful banter?" Loki smirked again.

Without warning, Loki drove his hand behind your ears, stroking ever so slightly. You giggled. "You can do better than that, Y/N." He teased.

"What happens if I tickle you here?" Loki asked, dropping his hands gently onto your armpit. He began to stroke the sensitive skin with his sharp nails, causing you to erupt into a small flood of laughter. "Good, Y/N, don't fight it and I may go easy on you." Loki said.

You thought for a moment. What if I don't want him to go easy on me? You clammed your mouth shut, revealing your decision.

"Alright then." Loki poked your tummy, earning a snrk from you. He liked this. He kept poking you all over untill you were howling. "Thats what I like to see." He said, hopping off of you and kneeling by the bedside.

Your eyes widened again. "Plehease Loki, nohoho!" You were still laughing from the tingly feeling that remained.

"Oh I think yes, Y/N. You love when the man of steel and the archer give these to you, why not me?" Loki slowly lifted your shirt, skittering his cold fingers across your exposed stomach, making you laugh loudly.

Loki blew gently on what he knew as your weak point and his fingers didn't stop either. You would not admit it to anyone, especially not the God of Mischief, but you didn't want it to stop. But eventually, all good things must come to an end.

Loki halted his fingers and breathe, and let you catch your breath. "Are you ready, Y/N?" He asked devilishly. You violently shook your head no. "Aw, too bad." Loki blew little baby raspberries all over your stomach and sides.

"I never knew it would come down to this, Y/N. I knew you were ticklish, but my goodness." Loki teased, planting a tiny raspberry on your usually immune neck. You screeched with laughter, and even Loki chuckled a little.

"You've had just about enough, Y/N. Ready?" Loki steadied his lips right above your belly button.

You screamed with laughter, alerting the Avengers as they stepped through the front door.

Loki stood up swiftly and removed the weight spell, teleporting onto his bed and continued his book. "You're all back early."

"What did you to Y/N?" Peter asked, slowly approaching you as you curled into a ball on Loki's bed.

"I'm not sure. Why don't you ask her?" Loki suggested.

"H-he tihihickled mehehe!" You exclaimed, reaching for Peter. "He tried to be like Steve when we fight!"

"Loki, explain what she means." Steve demanded.

"With pleasure." Loki transformed the room to how it was about 45 minutes ago, when you asked for a play fight. The group watched as Loki and Y/N played together. Tony smiled as he heard your laugh. Thor looked kindly at his brother.

"We'll have to include in wars more often." Clint commented as he watched Y/N getting red and fighting Loki back.

"Nohohoho!" You cried. Loki spidered your ribs while the others weren't looking. He smirked to himself.

Maybe Loki wasn't so bad with others after all.

[porscheczar110]

Another Modern Rayllum AU

Been looking for a Narcos Rayllum AU? Probably not. But my sister in law wrote one anyways. This is a series of comical vingnettes im which Callum comes to terms with the fact that 1) he was born into a Narco family and 2) his best friend/girlfriend is a sicario.

Summary: Sicario- Noun. sicario (plural sicarios) hitman, hired killer (especially when referring to Latin American drug cartels).

A collection of snippets that offer a glimpse into the life of Callum after the mysterious assassin, Rayla, barges into his life. He may not have signed up for it, but he wasn't going to complain.

Read Part 1 here.

1. Of Meeting

“I’ve come to kill you.”

Callum looked up at the woman standing over him in awe. She was framed by the light of an abnormally large full moon, silvery hair tied up and swaying in the wind. He scrambled back from her, confused. His interest was piqued. This had never happened before.

She advanced on him, and he jerked to his feet with a snort of laughter. His fear seemed to dissipate as adrenaline spiked through his veins, giving him a clear head. “Okay, very funny. Who hired you? Was it Soren? How much did he pay you? His jokes are getting worse and worse.” Callum was no stranger to his friend’s wild antics. The blonde lived to torment him, although it was mostly good-natured. This was a bit morbid, even by Soren’s standards.

“I—Soren? Who’s that?” she asked in confusion. “I can’t just give up my employer because you asked . Now, lay down, and take your death like any honorable person would.”

“Oh, you’re a real hoot. I’m sure you’re a great hit at parties. Here’s the deal,” Callum said, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I’m going to go home, and you’re going back to your ‘employer,’ and let him know the job has been done. I’m spooked! Yay for you. I have an exam tomorrow. That’s why I’m walking home so late. I don’t exactly have time for a punk prank right now. We can meet up later, and try this again, okay? See you soon!”

“But I—”

Callum spun on his heel and continued toward his house.

He would think back on the interaction later when his grade wasn’t on the line.

2. Of Kingpin

Callum pushed his textbook and notes away in disgust. His groan echoed around the study room he and Rayla were currently occupying. “Enough, enough! The numbers aren’t making sense anymore. I can’t do this, Ray.”

She laughed, continuing to copy down equations from the PowerPoint in front of her. “Don’t you have a tutor for everything?”

“No,” he denied vehemently. “My father tried to get one for everything, but I refused. I wanted to do this on my own. I’m going to ring the cook up. Did you want anything to snack on? I’m thinking jelly tarts.”

She finally paused her writing and pinned him with a stare. His breath caught at her amethyst orbs. No one should be as lovely as she. It had to be some sort of crime, being so deadly and beautiful. Although, if he called the cops, he was pretty sure they would be in more trouble than her.

“Tutors for days. Personal chefs and butlers and nannies and—”

“Do you have a point?” He felt his cheeks heating. It wasn’t his fault he was born into money. And he wasn’t very conscious about it. His life was as it was, and that was that.

“Cal...”

“Yes, Rayla?”

“Do you even know what it is your dad does?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Something with oil? Or was it pharmaceutical distributions? Maybe both?”

Rayla smacked her forehead and looked as if she wanted to shake him. “Your father is the biggest drug distributor in the continent . And you’re telling me you don’t know?”

“So he does work in pharma?”

“No, Callum,” she sighed heavily, clicking onto the next slide on her laptop. “Not pharma drugs. I’m talking about illegal, recreational drugs. Your dad is a king pin. A drug lord. A narco . Where do you think all your money came from?”

He sputtered, grasping for an answer. “Investments?”

She snorted and gave him a sardonic smile. “Oh, he sure invests alright. Invests in all sorts of things. Like guns and drugs and lawyers and—"

Callum cut her off, not wanting to hear the extensive list of places his father funneled money into. “Don’t you think I would’ve found out by now?”

“Yes. Hence why I’m surprised you didn’t know until I brought it up.” She raised a brow, and damnit if his heart didn’t skip a beat. Did she have to be so magnetic?

Stop it, he chastised himself. Gotta focus.

“If my dad is the head honcho of some big baddie drug operation, why were you sent to kill me ? Shouldn’t you go after him?”

She suddenly stiffened, hand twitching against her laptop arrow keys. Callum scanned her face, looking for a slip in her mask. The slight twitch in her eye gave away her stress.

“You were going to be bait. Your death wasn’t going to be on that sidewalk that night.”

“Oh,” he said weakly, not really understanding what she was implying.

She failed to meet his stare, shifting to fumble with her highlighter.

He glanced down at her backpack, cringing slightly at the barely concealed handgun peeking out from a slightly unzipped pocket.

Oh .

She was talking about extortion.

Torture.

Hostage.

She was, after all, a sicario .

And Callum found he minded that less and less.

3. Of Sicario

“So you’re telling me… You’re a what ?”

“ Sicario . I’m a hired hitman. Or I guess hitwoman? Or maybe hired assassin is easier for your brain to process.”

“Call it whatever you want. It’s not like I’d be able to pronounce the word.” Was that him laughing? It sounded borderline hysterical.

“Repeat after me. Slowly. See .”

“ See .”

“ Car .”

“ Car .”

“ Eeo .”

“ Eeo .”

“ Sicario. ”

“ Seecareeo ?”

“Eh, close enough. Not much we can do about your accent, really,” she teased.

“Okay, okay. So then… You’re a sicario ?” Callum couldn’t help the way his voice cracked at the word. It didn’t help that his Spanish was nonexistent.

Rayla barked out a laugh and shook her head at him. “The first thing I ever said to you was that I was going to kill you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my first thought wasn’t ‘ hitman’ ! I was running on no sleep and stressed out of my mind. What the hell, Ray? You were going to kill me!”

She shrugged and unlocked the car doors, and he hurried to the passenger’s seat. “Multiple times actually. I didn’t decide to keep you alive until Janai tried to kill you, too.”

“ What? That was months after we first met!”

Rayla gave him a wicked smirk. “Yup! You are very good at annoying me. Too good. What else was I supposed to contemplate?”

He shook his head in disbelief. She knew exactly how to get under his skin, too. The only other person that could get him riled up so quickly was Ezran, but Callum attributed that to a sibling kind of thing. “You could’ve contemplated a million other things.”

“Are you… Are you butthurt?” The disbelief in her voice was obvious.

“No,” he snapped, staring out the window.

“I was just doing my job,” she reminded him. There was no mistaking the glee in her voice.

“Oh, yeah! You did a fantastic job seeing as how I am still right here.”

She snorted and patted his shoulder. The contact had him whipping around to watch her profile as she drove. “Just know I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She leaned forward and turned up the volume of her music, mouthing the words along as she sped along the highway.

Now what did that mean?

4. Machetes

Callum kicked a rock away from his path, muttering obscenities into the dark. He’d lost three out of five rounds of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock, and he was not a happy camper. Rayla had a bunch of junk in her car, and he was the lucky one now tasked with shifting through it all for some obscure USB. He glanced down at the pen marking on his hand, unable to help the small smirk at her chicken scratch.

And the drinks , the barely legible words reminded him. He also had to carry a too-heavy pack of drinks back to the party which was too far away for his comfort. He was an artist by trade, not some beefy powerlifter. Normally, he would’ve dragged Soren out with him to do the transporting, but his friend was out of town that weekend, watching some type of sports game.

He grumbled as he unlocked the car, digging around through her junk. He must’ve been outside for at least half an hour before he moved onto the trunk. And with some more extensive searching, he ran into a pair of really rusted machetes.

“Rayla really is strange,” he muttered to himself, slowly sliding them out of the trunk. He couldn’t decide if they were real or not, and he didn’t feel like touching the blade to find out. The handles were like a mix between plastic and wood which was more than enough for him to make a judgement call.

Eh, fake then.

He twirled them around clumsily, and a plan began to form. A devious little smile began to spread across his face, and he closed and locked her car. He snuck back to the house, careful to stay in the shadows. As luck would have it, it seemed like Rayla had stepped out to take a call.

Perfect.

With her back to him, he began rustling the bushes. She whipped around, free hand slipping to her back. He jumped out, hollering and floundering with the blades.

“Holy hell , Callum! Put those down! No, no— Stop waving them around. And take them back to the car! Jesus , dude. Are you trying to kill someone?” She stayed tense for a moment more before sliding back into a regular, if not enraged, stance. She pulled the phone from her ear, presumably muting it to yell some more at him.

Callum couldn’t help but laugh at the horror and redness creeping across Rayla’s face as he finally let his arms fall to his sides. “It’s just a joke, Ray. You’ve gotta relax.”

“You are so lucky I’m the only one out here! What if someone had seen you? I just—” She ran a hand through her hair roughly, and Callum felt like maybe he was the only one that found the situation funny. “Whatever. Go take them back to the car right now. Then go say bye. We’re leaving.” She turned back to her phone and continued speaking sternly at whoever was on the other line.

He couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but he knew it wasn’t good. He stayed rooted to the spot a few more moments, unsure of what to do. It was getting late, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go just yet. It was the most logical thing to do, but he hated that she was dictating his actions. Although she was the one with the car today. And he didn’t really know anyone inside anyways. He’d much rather have another movie night with her, Ezran, and their dog, Zym.

“ Seriously , dude. Go .” She jerked her finger in the direction of her vehicle, and he tried his best not to pout. At her worsening glare, he probably didn’t do a good job at schooling his features.

“Fine, fine ,” he snapped. “But I’m going to pretend to be fighting off a wicked dragon the whole way back,” he called. She opened her mouth, but he hurried off before she could get another word out, slashing at invisible enemies with the machetes and tossing in an occasional theatrical grunt.

“ Callum,” she roared, and he heard rushing footsteps behind him.

Oh, heck no! He thought stubbornly. She wasn’t going to catch him, and she sure wasn’t about to ruin the fun for him. If he wanted to run around and flail with her machetes, he was going to. And she was going to be powerless to stop him. “You can’t catch me!” he hollered back, darting forward into the night. He had gotten too much of a head start, even for a trained assassin. She’d catch him eventually, when he was too tired to do much else but sway around.

For now, he’d enjoy the chase. And something told him she did, too. Regardless if she’d ever admit it or not.

[maedarakat]

✍🏻 please

(Thanks!!! You didn’t include a pairing tho so I hope you’re cool with me just doing my fave boys? XD This is going to be around season 1 and maybe 2, pre-redemption Dagur bc he’s fun.)

—-

Dagur stared at the parchment in his hands, expression extraordinarily dumbfounded. One of the Riders had just … Terror-mailed him a letter?

The Terror was even still hanging around - just out of reach and ridiculously good at avoiding thrown knives. Almost like it was waiting for a response to this drivel.

He’d of course spent a good portion of time over-analyzing it. Was it a distraction? The set-up for a trap? It wasn’t from Hiccup and it didn’t ask him to meet him anywhere though.

Nope, just inane babbling from one member of Hiccup’s little dragon-loving group. There was nothing to really do but tear it up and throw it overboard. Which he almost did, but Savage stopped him.

“If you don’t mind me suggesting, sir, this could be an opportunity? Write back and tell the boy to meet you alone if he really wants an … “ Savage peered over Dagur’s shoulder to re-read the lines that had his leader so flustered. “An arrow-launcher for Snoggletogg.”

“Arrow-launcher! As if I’d actually send anyone else a Berserker crafted arrow-launcher for anything, let alone for -” Dagur paused, mid-tirade. “Wait, is it Snoggletogg today?”

Savage shook his head. “Not for four more months sir.”

Dagur scowled, but made his decision and stormed toward his cabin. “Nobody disturb me and leave that Terrible Terror alone. I’m writing a response.”

——-

Dear Blithering Dragon-Rider Idiot #1,

OF COURSE IM NOT SENDING YOU AN ARROW-LAUNCHER FOR SNOGGLETOGG, YOU COMPLETE MORON! Why in Loki’s name WOULD I?!? I cannot believe you’d even DARE ASK ME for such a thing?! Are you serious?!? 

Can’t you ask your parents?!?! I heard you can get a pretty nice selection at the Northern Market. None as close to the quality on my ship, so I guess you’ve got decent taste, but still - DON’T YOU EVER, EVER ASK ME FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN. 

It seriously weirded me out. 

- DAGUR THE DERANGED

P.S. And I hope your tree catches fire!!!!

—–

“There, I sent it.” Dagur and Savage both watched as the Terror flew off, disappearing soon in the fog that surrounded the Berserker armada.

“What did you write?” asked Savage, nosey as ever.

“What do you think?!” Dagur snapped. “I told that rider where he could shove his stupid request!”

And that was the end of it, until the next letter came.

——

Dear Dagur the Deranged,

Wow, I had no idea you would be so offended? Sorry. You’re always offering Hiccup stuff and he doesn’t appreciate it, so I figured I could use some of that misplaced affection to fulfill both our emotional needs.

And also my need for a totally awesome arrow-launcher. 

You sure you don’t have a spare one? Or a broken one I can fix that’s just taking up space on your ship? I promise I won’t mind if it’s a wreck, just put a festive little bow on it or something. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Ooh, but besides all that, do you worship Loki too? I’m so happy to hear that if it’s so - it fits you! You’re clever and devious, He’s clever and devious … If you ever want to talk trickster gods and their frustrating yet endearing ways of making life interesting - then I, Tuffnut Thorston, am your man.

Also, thanks for the tip about the Northern Markets, but if my parents actually liked me enough to get me one, they’d probably make me share it with my sister. 

Do you KNOW how hard it is for two people to work the same massively destructive weapon at the same time? Trust me, the projectiles do not go where you want them to. Just ask Sven’s sheep. We all had to eat a lot of mutton that night. It was good too; I still don’t get why the Chief was so mad.

Anyway, I hope your tree catches fire too! Ours does every year, as a tribute to that time Astrid decimated almost everybody’s house with exploding dragon eggs.

Have a Happy Snoggletogg! (I’m wishing you one early, in case you manage to kill us all before it gets here. Hopefully with an arrow launcher because that would be ironic and kind of funny.) 

See you on the battlefield!

- Tuffnut Thorston

P.S. What would you like for Snoggletogg, assuming we all live to see it? I probably can’t afford or steal anything fancy, but I can always write you another poem.

——

Dagur was enraged. Livid. Also, more confused than ever. 

This had to be some sort of trick. Why was this crazy Rider still talking to him? It was like having a prisoner you just couldn’t make shut up.

Or resist talking back to. 

What he should do was crumple this stupid parchment up and throw it over the side. But then that Terror would hang around all day and annoy him. 

Dagur growled and ignored the strange look Savage gave him, as he ordered the man to find him better parchment and some more ink. 

He didn’t write letters that much; but he wasn’t about to send something smudged and tattered back to this dumb kid. Maybe if he wrote completely bluntly and in big letters, the Rider would get that they were enemies.

Not friends. Not … quill pals.

—–

Dragon Rider, 

You seem to be confused, so let me help you out here. 

I’m not sending you anything for Snoggletogg, and I don’t want anything from you either. Thanks for the offer, but –

We are enemies. I want to kill you and your buddies and all your little dragon friends, including your stupid Terror that keeps dodging my knives. Actually if you wanted to send me anything, send me more knives. I’ve lost at least three over the side because of that thing. Who knew they could be so fast?!

Seriously, write to me again asking for anything, and I’ll blow up your entire house the next time I attack Berk.

- Dagur the Deranged

—–

Dear Dagur,

Okay, I get it. I won’t ask for anything. Just surprise me. 

Some knives are totally coming your way, though. Nice ones too, with polished antler handles and sharp edges. The merchant almost sold them out from under me, but I distracted him by pointing out a rainbow and snagged you four. 

Also, if you blew up my house, you’d be doing us all a favor. It’s a total mess. I’ve been begging the local dragons to ‘accidentally’ torch it, but Hiccup keeps stopping me. It’s a shame; my mom would get a new house built and new furniture, so she wouldn’t have to clean for a while. She hates cleaning. Gets it from me. 

Oh and I guess Pop would have to drink out in the sunshine. Or the rain. He could use a quick rinse either way, he’s gotten kinda ripe since I last visited.  Pshh, Dads today, am I right?

Anyway, that last letter was so serious. Dare I say formal? You sounded like you could use some cheering up, so I wrote you a poem. 

I know it’s not Snoggletogg yet, but I’m sure we’ve missed your birthday by now, anyway. (Hey when is your birthday? Let me know.)

Here’s the poem:

There once was a rider named Hic, Whose tyranny would make you sickThough love him we will,And we follow him still,Sometimes he can be a real prick

——

Dagur snorted and started laughing out loud, causing a few heads to turn. He quickly caught himself and glared them back to work before turning back to the letter in his hands.

He had meant to get rid of it this time, really. But it had just been so boring today. 

He had to admit, the kid had some nice poetry. Also, the thought that he had an actual belated (or was it early?) birthday gift coming his way honestly thrilled him - especially if it was stolen. 

Because buying things with money and prestige? Boring! As a chieftain’s son,  expensive gifts had always felt like people were sucking up to him, so whatever it was had no meaning really. 

But this do-gooder dragon-rider had actually broken the law (and definitely had gone against Hiccup’s wishes) just to get him a nice gift. 

That was … That was just so … thoughtful?

He bit his lip, a little conflicted, but then shook his head to clear it. If someone was wanting to be nice to him, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean he had to be nice in return. 

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything to keep writing back.

—–

Rider,

Thanks. That poem was pretty funny. I’ll accept those knives too, since you’re technically just paying me back for the ones I lost. I hope you don’t expect anything big in return, like mercy or extra food rations when I eventually kill and capture you all. 

I’m no good with poetry … maybe you’d like a story or something? I know some pretty scary ones. Ooh, I bet you can make that big kid with the Gronckle scream like a little girl!

My birthday is the 15th of September. 

Regards, Dagur

P.S. When’s yours? Maybe I’ll just try extra hard not to kill you that week.

—–

Well, it wasn’t anything he’d brag about to his men, Dagur thought, watching the Terror fly off. But maybe being quill-pals with the enemy wasn’t such a bad thing.