#rip Viggo honestly

[hiccupbutpurple]

Mer-Ruffnut AU

Basically a crack fic where Ruffnut is a mermaid AU I used to act out as a child (about 8-10 years old lol)

She is actually like Tuff’s 4th cousin or something in this (cause drama happened) but her mermaid mum needed to protect her so sent her to Berk where Tuff’s parents agreed to take her in as their own. She was about 6 years old and got her memory erased. No one on Berk questioned it (maybe cause magic i guess) but years later she realises she isn’t from Berk and tries to find out where she’s from.

On the cool side she got a sickass mermaid reveal while in a battle and could control the seas and skies, glowing gold eyes and her hair floofs up. Picture the Ariel on the rock scene but she’s in the air with a bunch of water and storms and hair around her. She saves the gangs lives from some sea monster thing and then transforms into a mermaid and everyone is like ‘wow’ - also Kendall from Big Time Rush showed up, I think he had either a music talent or ore control (that could’ve been another character tho), and Percy Jackson helped her too.

(Disconnected but when I was maybe closer to 10 I added that she had been in an orphanage originally and there’s a plot where she stumbles upon that random orphanage….don’t know where I was going with that plot tbh.)

I also think later she like drowned Viggo or something when I started watching rtte.

I used to act this out on my trampoline or on the swing set or scooting up and down my driveway…now I pace around.

TLDR: Ruffnut is no ordinary girl, she’s from the deep blue underworld

[glorf1ndel]

best casting choices in your opinion?

Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. He got SO into the role. My favorite story about this is how Viggo would get an early start whenever the cast had to film mountain scenes and would hike up the mountains for hours, because that’s what Aragorn would have done, right? He apparently also frightened the swordmasters with his skill and determination during training sessions. ⚔️

I also love Elijah Wood as Frodo. He’s got them big ol’ eyes. 👀 And a soulful approach to the role. His interpretation of the character is brave and kind, which is perfect for Frodo.

Honestly, the entire LOTR cast is great. Bernard Hill as Théoden (RIP)! Hugo Weaving as Elrond! One last shout-out to Cate Blanchett as Galadriel; she made her character so iconic. She passes the test. 😉

[ghostlypoemland]

Garden: Chapter 1

Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.

Chapter one:

Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:

Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.

And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.

Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.

Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.

But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.

She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.

Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.

"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.

"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.

"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"

"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.

An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.

The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.

"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.

My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.

But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.

At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.

The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.

The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.

You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.

What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!

Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!

Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.

But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.

Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.

No turning back.

She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.

Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.

A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.

"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."

"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.

"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."

Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.

"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.

"All babies are," murmured the midwife.

Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."

"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.

"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."

"No!"

"You don't want more kids?"

"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."

Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.

"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"

"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."

"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."

Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.

"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."

Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"

"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."

"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"

Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.

"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."

The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.

"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.

"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."

"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."

"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.

Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.

"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.

Arne and Frida exchanged glances.

"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.

Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.

She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.

"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."

"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"

Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.

Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.

"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"

[wiremagazine]

VIGGO SHARES HIS ‘SECRET’ FOR ADDICTEDUSA.COM

By Mike Bahr | Photos provided by AddictedUSA.com

Typically, adult models work behind-the-scenes after their modeling days are over. Not Viggo Sorensen. The semi-professional breakdancer was moonlighting as a cameraman for Bel Ami for a full year before deciding to make the move to in front of the camera. “It wasn’t something I had even considered doing,” he admits, “but I’ve always liked being different, pushing myself to live an interesting life that is unlike anything my friends or anyone else I know is doing.” The ambitious man has lots of things he wants to see and experiences he wants to do while he’s still young and strapping, including fashion modeling. This month, Viggo Sorensen can check one more item off his bucket list. He is the new face and body for Addicted Swimwear’s new Secret collection.

Wire Magazine spoke with the Bel Ami star-turned swimwear model from his home in the Czech Republic.

Mike Bahr: The new campaign is called “Secret.” What is your deepest, darkest secret? Viggo Sorensen: I’m extremely shy! Seriously! I’m always afraid to approach a guy I would like to date. Also, I’m stupid with trusting the wrong people.

MB: Tell us about your childhood. VS: I grew up in a small city in the Czech Republic where I still live, actually. I was a very happy kid with my two brothers. We played with our Pokemon cards, bay blades and my all-time favorite thing to do was ride my motorcycle with my grandpa. We lived in a small apartment until I was five, which was hard on my mom because I was a handful, always full of energy. She would go crazy, spending the whole day with me! To get some relief, she enrolled me in sports at a young age. She would send me to train ten times a week in order to calm me down. I would come home and fall right to sleep which made her happy.

MB: Were you trained as a gymnast? VS: My mom always wanted me to do gymnastics, but no, I never pursued formal training.

MB: Who was your first boy crush? VS: Honestly, growing up, I was oblivious to things like that. I started my sexual life pretty late.

MB: Are you dating now? VS: No.

MB: Has being a porn star impacted your dating life? VS: I would say so. I haven't dated since I started appearing in films.

MB: Maybe you’re too picky. What do you look for in a guy? VS: Personality, the ability to make others smile, dedication and a nice-looking body.

MB: Are you enjoying your new fame? VS: The best part of adult film is traveling, trying new things, meeting new, interesting people and yes, the money.

MB: What’s the worst part? VS: The worst part is when the chemistry between the guys is simply not working. Then, everything takes so long and it can get very tiring.

MB: You’re known for your flexibility. What are your favorite positions? VS: An upside-down handstand. I have also done a video where I jerk off while doing a split. That was fun!

MB: Who is your best buddy in the biz? VS: I feel the closest to Sven Basquiat. We share similar interests.

MB: What kind of hijinks have you two gotten into? VS: We partied every night at the Maldives Flirt4Free summit. At one point, we were wrestling and he ripped my earring out! I haven’t worn earrings since.

MB: Do you have any tattoos? VS: None and I probably won't ever get any.

MB: What superstitions do you believe in? VS: What goes around comes around. I’m a definite believer in karma.

MB: Beyonce, Billie (Eilish), Barbra (Streisand)… who is the real queen B? Viggo: Honestly, I only know Beyonce. The other two could be Spanish villages, as far as I know.

MB: Who is the unlikeliest person that you follow on Instagram? Viggo: Donald Trump is the first name that comes to mind.

MB: What would a film of your life be called, and who would star as you in it? VS: The Storymaker because I don’t wait for things to happen in my life. I’m the designer of my destiny. Matthew McConaughey would play me.

MB: What makes you smile? VS: Good food, beautiful nature views, the night sky, and funny people.

MB: What makes you angry? VS: Stupidity and insincerity.

MB: Who are your heroes? VS: I don't have any specific heroes in my life. I look up to people who work hard to achieve their goals and lead interesting, happy lives. If I were to choose from men in the adult industry that I admire, they would be Paul Cassidy, Sven Basquiat, and Alam Wernik.

MB: You find a magic genie in a bottle. What are your three wishes? Viggo: To find love for life, travel the world, and play sports until I'm all gray.

MB: Which celebrity would you most like to slide into your DMs and why? VS: Honestly, I would like any and every celebrity to slide into my DMs because I like to get to know interesting people and hear their stories.

MB: You’re about to be hit by a truck (sorry). What flashes before your eyes? VS: All the things I wanted to do and never took a chance on.

MB: What does your gravestone read? VS: He lived hard and loved every second of it.

View Viggo Sorensen’s first swimwear modeling shoot at AddictedUSA.com

This was originally published in Wire Magazine Digital Issue 1.2020

[therewillbebeauty]

betwixt and between (day 5: rescue)

Previous fill in this ‘series’ (here).

Enjoy!

Hiccup had always intended to leave. But after learning the truth about his illness, that passive desire turned into a tangible plan of escape. 

He’d been biding his time, learning the patterns of his captors, establishing himself as a meek (if sassy) prisoner to lower their guard. Viggo had been the hardest to fool, since he knew firsthand how Hiccup thought, but in the end Hiccup thought he had even Viggo lulled into complacency. Everything was as it should be. As soon as he found his leg and sword, he would use the knife he had stolen from the cook one day to pick the dragon cages’ locks, and then he and Toothless would fly off into the sunset. 

Or morning sun. Or darkness of night. Honestly, Hiccup wasn’t too picky about the time of day it would be when he finally bid this cursed island goodbye.

His opportunity came sooner than expected. He and Viggo were playing Maces and Talons, as they always did in the afternoon after Hiccup’s nap, when Hiccup heard sounds of a commotion he hadn’t heard for quite a while. It was the commotion of several different types of dragons all firing at once, mixed with people crying out in shock or anger. Neither of those were unusual on their own, nor mixed together. But the third element, the sound of triumphant cheers and commands … that sounded like Dragon Riders. 

Viggo locked eyes with Hiccup from across the board. “Stay here,” he ordered. 

They both knew Hiccup would escape as soon as Viggo’s back was turned. The order was useless. But Viggo had appearances to keep up, after all. 

Hiccup offered a half-smile, and Viggo rolled his eyes before grabbing his sword and charging out the door. 

Hiccup waited exactly three seconds before grabbing his knife from under his bed and diving out the window.

He still stumbled as he ran down the worn dirt path to the dragon cages, but weeks of captivity had given him time to get used to this inferior prosthetic leg, and he didn’t fall flat on his face once. He reached the dragons in record time and shoved his knife eagerly into the lock of the nearest cage, jiggling it around until he heard a click that brought tears to his eyes. He tore the door open and the dragon--a Nightmare--shot out, making a beeline for the hunters’ huts. 

Hiccup smiled as he got to work on the next cage. He hoped that Nightmare burned Viggo’s hut to ash.

Viggo’s hut. Hiccup hadn’t found his prosthetic or sword yet. He wouldn’t be able to escape.

Hiccup shook his head to push the thoughts aside. They were distracting him from being able to free all the dragons. After another moment of fumbling, the second dragon--a Gronkle--joined the fight.

He got better at picking locks as he did more of them, and within a few minutes over twenty dragons of various species were wreaking havoc on Viggo’s men. 

Toothless’ cage was situated the farthest away, definitely on purpose. Hiccup stared his old friend in the eye and freed him with a few deft jimmies of the knife. Toothless pushed the cage door open himself, and Hiccup allowed himself a second to press his forehead to Toothless’ and cry with relief. 

But only a second. “I can’t fly, bud,” he whispered, barely audible above the ruckus. “I don’t have my leg. We’re gonna have to go get it, okay?”

He prepared himself to jump onto Toothless’ back, but something in the sky made him pause. It looked like a Nadder, which wouldn’t be unusual, but this particular Nadder looked like it had a human passenger. It must be Astrid, pulling back from the battle to see how things were going. 

He had to get her attention. Throwing caution to the wind, Hiccup jumped up and down, waved his arms in the air, and shouted at the top of his lungs. “ASTRID! DOWN HERE! IT’S ME!”

His words did nothing, but Toothless firing a purple plasma blast her way sure did. Stormfly dropped into a rapid descent aimed right for them. He wasn’t sure they would be able to land with how fast they were going.

But Astrid was good at surpassing his expectations. She and Stormfly pulled to a halt right above the ground and landed gracefully. “Hiccup?” she said, voice full of incredulity. “Is it really you?”

“Yes! It’s me! And boy am I glad to see you.” 

She smiled at him, and it felt like the springtime sun on his skin after months of winter. “Me, too. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“I can’t. I don’t have my leg.”

Astrid reached into her satchel and pulled out … his leg. She tossed it to him and he caught it with fumbling hands. Now it was Hiccup’s turn to be shocked. “How on Earth did you get this?”

“I’ll tell you in the air! Put it on!”

“Oh, right.” Hiccup ripped off the crappy leg given to him by Viggo and reattached his good one. It was entirely too satisfying to swing onto Toothless’ back and click the metal into the stirrup.

It was a little strange, now that he thought about it, that Viggo had left Toothless’ saddle and rig on him this whole time, but then again, if Astrid had had his leg, Viggo never would have thought that Hiccup would be flying off of this island any time soon. And yet, there he was, shooting off into the midday sun like he’d never stopped. 

With all the dragons freed and Hiccup back in the air, the ground battle was quickly finished, and soon the Riders were coasting back towards the Edge. 

Hiccup noticed, with some discomfort, that the other Riders were flying in a diamond formation that put him in the center, protected from all sides. It made sense, he supposed, but it was still a reminder of how weak and powerless he had been, trapped by Viggo’s side for countless days. 

But he wasn’t anymore. He had his friends. He was free. And he was flying. 

Oh, yeah. “So how did you get my leg?” he shouted to Astrid.

“Tuff found it washed up on the beach one day,” she said, voice oddly subdued. It was probably just the exhaustion of the day’s battle, but Hiccup liked to think it had something to do with being exhausted from searching tirelessly for him. Maybe that was selfish. “None of us wanted to believe it, but when you and Toothless never came back, it really did look like you’d drowned.”

“Well, thank you. For keeping it.”

“Well, what about you?” Snotlout demanded from Hiccup’s right. “We saved you--you’re welcome, by the way--but what was even going on? You just vanished one day after a tail test-run, and we find you months later by accident on Viggo’s island? And look at what you’re wearing? I mean, what kind of prisoner were you, that Viggo dressed you in nice clothes and furs and stuff? Is that a freaking flower crown?”

“Oh, yeah.” Hiccup distractedly plucked the woven crown from his head and regarded it for a long moment, before tossing it down into the sea. Next, he released the shoulder clasps keeping his fur cloak fastened, and watched that catch the wind and drop like a stone behind them. Finally, he stretched his arms up to their maximum, enjoying the breeze and sensation of flight. Flight, after all this time.

Hiccup let himself drop to lie down on Toothless’ back with a contented sigh. “I promise I’ll tell you all everything,” he said, “But first, let’s go home.”

“To the Edge!” Fishlegs shouted in agreement.

“To the Edge!”

All six of their voices chorused in the wind, and Hiccup smiled. It was over. For now, at least. He could finally rest.

And in time, they’d strike again, back at full strength. Viggo and the hunters wouldn’t even know what hit them.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped Part 26

Ao3

Hiccup has had one other psychological evaluation.  It was when he got out of the hospital, and it went about the same as this one. 

In other words, not well. 

It turns out that being a white male with a rough relationship with an impossible to please, now absent father figure who also happens to have a long history of childhood bullying raises some red flags.  At least last time he was fifteen and still theoretically moldable, instead of a twenty-five-year-old serial murder suspect who just happened to spend the last few years giving nightly tours about the very murders he allegedly copied. 

So maybe it went worse this time. 

The one bright point was probably the crack in the psychologist’s clinical veneer when Hiccup assured her that no, in fact, he did not have any history of killing animals and he actually loved his childhood cat very much until it died at the ripe old age of eighteen.  Of natural causes. 

When assuring a mental health professional that he does not now and never has enjoyed torturing animals is a high point, it’s safe to say that this has been a long week.  A long month, really.  A long year. 

Hell, a long life. 

Jail has a way of stretching minutes into hours and squeezing hours into dull, ceaseless blinks of an eye.  He understands now why people used to mark the dungeon walls when they got fed or caught a glimpse of the sun, because the days blurring together is enough to make Hiccup feel as crazy as the psychiatrist assumed he was. 

Not that his version of crazy would ever mean killing cats.  His version of crazy appears to mean long, elaborate daydreams of a private shower with a locking door, and also practically unfettered glee when he sees his lawyer because that means he gets to go to a room with a comfortable chair for a while and talk to someone not assuming his guilt. 

A straight-faced guard in an NWF uniform walks Hiccup down to the long bank of stalls along a plexiglass barrier.  The guard gestures to the last stall and Hiccup sits down in the office chair that might as well be a throne of perfectly fluffed pillows after sitting on his thin mattress all day.  His back relaxes enough to hurt, and he exhales a long, slow breath and focuses on Eretson filling out a form before taking the seat on the other side of the plexiglass and picking up the dingy white plastic phone. 

“How are you?” Eretson asks out of politeness, not expecting a real answer. 

Hiccup almost gives him one anyway, but he doesn’t think it would make him feel any better to say that he’s in jail, it’s miserable, he’s been terrified for so long that he’s mostly just exhausted, and he doesn’t think the psychiatrist liked him very much because she didn’t laugh at any of his jokes. 

He settles instead for, “I’m here.” 

“How is everything going?” Eretson asks, writing on a legal pad in neat, oversized block letters.  Grisly?

They can’t be sure if anything is being recorded on the ancient phone system, but silence is suspicious too. 

“Oh, you know, I’m just being in jail.  It’s pretty lonely not talking to anyone but your lawyer,” Hiccup laughs, not explicitly trying to sound tired but not holding it back either. 

“Any family that you want to visit?  I know your mom has been in contact.” 

Hiccup swallows hard, “it’s a long flight, she doesn’t need to spend the money just to see me make a fashion statement in orange.”  It doesn’t stop him from thinking about her though, how confused she’d be.  How angry she’d be if she knew the truth. 

His mom is the only woman who ever made his dad back down from an argument and for a second, he lets himself imagine that she could save him.  Yell at Grisly, start a picket line, demand reform. 

But Grisly isn’t someone to yell at.  He’d have no issue adding to his body count. 

It makes Hiccup want to scream, and rave, and get a poster-board at a busy intersection to help him spread the truth, and if it were his own life he was risking, he’d do it.  But it’s not. 

“How is everyone?”  He asks, and if Eretson knows who he’s really asking about, he doesn’t show it.  His poker face is exhausting, adding to the dreary blur of days in jail.  If Hiccup had been making marks on the dungeon wall for every time he won a reaction out of someone, he’d have a single mark made immediately after being placed in his cell, awarded for getting under Grisly’s skin during processing. 

“Everything is fine,” Eretson could be lying and Hiccup probably wouldn’t know it, but the thought of something happening to Snotlout or Astrid and not even knowing is too much to even speculate on.  It’s the kind of thought that keeps him up at night, counting dimples in the popcorn ceiling to fill the dead space in his mind.  “I do want to talk about your options moving towards a trial.” 

“Oh God, did the profiler tell you that I’m crazy?”  Hiccup laughs under his breath, “because I think she confused my attempts at humor for debilitating psychological issues.”  He continues babbling when Eretson doesn’t laugh, “not that I know anything about that.  I’m just speaking from what I’ve seen on TV.” 

“The profile is just one piece of the case,” Eretson assures, “and you don’t quite fit the profile of a serial murderer.” 

“What does ‘not quite’ mean?  Is it just the white male, daddy issues thing or did some of my answers partially fit the serial murderer profile?” 

“For future reference, saying that Viggo Grimborn is a ‘hobby’ is a bit suspicious.” 

“I’ll file that away for the next time I get criminally profiled,” Hiccup nods, “with my luck I’ll probably need it.  Should I have said that I actually picked up yoga like my doctor told me to?” 

“I finally got access to Grisly’s evidence file,” Eretson changes the subject and Hiccup bites the inside of his cheek to keep from asking if he’s ever laughed, even once, “and it’s going to take a while to look through it all and compare it to my own, but so far it’s more airtight than I would have expected.” 

Hiccup has never been very good at not saying what he feels, or even delaying saying what he feels, but glancing at the NWF guard out of the corner of his eye helps him shove his rant back down. 

“Oh.” 

“Of course, forensics is still working, but that could take months—”

“Months?”  Hiccup knows the theory of the word, in that the year is broken into twelve more or less even pieces consisting of approximately thirty days each.  There’s something about the moon in there too.  But in practice?  The concept of spending months in this limbo is foreign and impossible, defying some belief held so strongly that it feels like a physical law.  “How long have I been in here?” 

“Five days.” 

“And you’re saying months until a trial.” 

“Under current timelines, yes.”  Eretson goes to make another note but then decides against it, speaking carefully instead.  “And given the unique circumstances of your situation, I don’t believe that waiting months is the best path forward.” 

Hiccup hears the truth between the words:  Leaving Grisly to his own devices for months gives him more time to bulletproof his lies and clean up his evidence.   His throat tightens when he thinks of Astrid and how much danger she’s in. 

“Have you told anyone what I told you about…the case?”  He tries, “you know, about their um, continued involvement in the case as it progresses?”  His eyes scream about Grisly’s threats and Eretson must get the message because he shakes his head. 

“No, I haven’t, I think it’s best to minimize Miss Hofferson’s involvement at this point, given all how many times her name comes up in the file.” 

Hiccup doesn’t know Miss Hofferson.  Miss Hofferson threatened a harassment claim at one point, sure, but she ceased to exist when Astrid came into the picture.  Astrid with her glares and her bony fists and misty eyes when she looks at old books.  Astrid impatient for the truth, impatient for the point of a roundabout story, always moving and trying and inviting him to try too. 

“Don’t you think…I mean, wouldn’t it be better for her to know the situation?”  His throat is dry, and swallowing doesn’t seem to help. 

“I thought of something that could potentially move the process along faster,” Eretson ignores Hiccup’s question, not unkindly just devoted to keeping the meeting on track, and Hiccup presses the phone closer to his face, forcing himself to focus. “We haven’t considered a plea deal.” 

“A plea deal?  Like taking a driving course to knock a few points off of a driving ticket?” 

“In this case, a confession and promise to divulge information about anyone else involved in the case in exchange for a reduced sentence.”  Eretson writes on the pad, Grisly coerced you into the last murder, then turned on you. 

Hiccup’s heart pounds in his ears.  One murder, not four.  It would be a better ratio if they were talking about any other crime.  One car stolen, not four.  One house broken into, not four.  But as someone who has committed zero murders, confessing to one feels monumental and terrifying and stupid. 

While he can’t honestly say he’s spent much time trying to be successful, he has made a conscious effort to not absolutely ruin his life, and confessing to a murder he didn’t commit in order to tell a bunch of lies connecting him to the man who did sounds like a very quick way to undo all of that. 

“Reduced sentence, not no sentence.” 

“It gives us leverage too,” Eretson insists, “we can argue the conditions of you coming forward with information and include minimum sentence before appeal for probation or insist on a certain facility that’s better than here.” 

“So trading months waiting for trial for some as of yet unspecified amount of time in a different cell?”  Hiccup snorts, “is there a catalog?  Do I get to choose my bedsheets and pick out a plant for the window?” 

“The prosecution would no longer have months to prepare for a trial.  As it is, they have plenty of time to build their case.”  The ‘and do other things like horribly murder your remaining loved ones’ is an unspoken addition. 

“Do you think it would work?”  Hiccup lets himself think about it, glazing over the moment he’d have to sit in front of his father’s oldest frenemy and say that he took someone’s life. 

How deep can Grisly’s cover really go?  He thinks of the man’s empty office, his horde of creepy guards seamlessly integrating with multiple levels of law enforcement.  How long would someone have to dig to find something wrong?  Would a name brought up in a plea deal be enough? 

“I have witnesses,” Eretson says, scrawling Jorgenson in purposeful letters on the pad. 

“The benefit then, is that we have a chance to direct the investigation.” 

“Towards the truth, of course.” 

“Right, the truth.”  As much as Hiccup has played fast and loose with the rules, he’s always had a steady commitment to the truth, but telling it didn’t save him.  Hell, telling the truth now would get people killed, and the silence is starting to be so deafening he’s wondering if the affects will be permanent. 

“Think about it,” Eretson starts to stand up and Hiccup fumbles for something else to talk about, anything to get some more time out of character as ‘obedient inmate’, but he’s too slow and Eretson hangs up the phone. 

He almost knocks on the plexiglass to get his attention before remembering that’s strictly against the rules, and his hand freezes mid-air when he looks over Eretson’s shoulder and sees who’s turning away from the front desk after filling out a form. 

It’s Astrid. 

She’s wearing a glare that could melt the barrier between them if she aimed it his direction instead of at Eretson and a jacket she must have borrowed from Hiccup’s coat closet.  Her arms fly out from her sides as she argues then she shoves her hands in her pockets and narrows her eyes, an expression he instantly recognizes as seething doubt.  She was clearly asking for something she thought she wasn’t going to get, and now that she’s won it, she’s unsure if it’s real. 

Then, she looks at him and her eyes widen as her shoulders slump, relief that he can hardly fathom having anything to do with him flooding across her features. 

He smiles the first real smile he’s had since she was tangled in his hoarded sheets and everything seemed like it would be ok and waves and she waves back, one half limp hand raised to shoulder height. 

Eretson crosses his arms, shoulders rigid then relaxing as he points at the chair he just vacated, saying something else that makes Astrid shoot him a sharp look before hurrying to the other side of the glass.  She practically falls into the chair, picking up the phone with shaking fingers and holding it to her ear. 

He loves her.

“Hi,” Hiccup starts, anticlimactic, and Astrid’s mouth splits into a wide, tired smile. 

He loves her and she isn’t safe here.  Not with the NWF guard at the door, not with Grisly just a buzz away. 

“Hi,” she bites her lower lip and leans forward on her elbows on the ledge in front of the window, and if it weren’t for the plexiglass, he could kiss her.  “Eretson isn’t happy that I’m here, he told me not to follow him because visiting hours were over, but I checked online and, well—”

“And you’re here.”  And he loves her, and he doesn’t want to tell her in an itchy jumpsuit over a dirty jail phone, but it’s so true and so much that he’s not sure he’ll have a choice.  “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’ve been told ten minutes and no discussions of ‘substance’,” she air-quotes around the word and his palms itch with how much he wants to touch her. 

Eretson is standing by the door and Hiccup idly wonders if he has his gun or if he had to turn that in to step into his lawyer shoes.  Either way, his presence feels protective, and Hiccup already told Astrid once that she shouldn’t be here, he can’t be expected to do that again.  Not when she’s right across from him, not when it’s been so long since he’s seen a friendly face. 

“That works for me, I don’t have anything of substance to talk about.”  He shrugs and she smiles, soft and fond in a way he definitely doesn’t deserve.  She’s obviously exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes making his chest ache even as the sight of her in his jacket lets him feel like he’s protecting her in some tiny way while he can’t do anything else.  “How are you?” 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m here.”  It hurts more the second time. 

“Yeah,” she looks back at Eretson for a second before scooting her chair closer to the glass, “that was a stupid question.  You look like hell.” 

“Thanks,” he wipes a hand over his stubble and his cheeks heat up. 

“No, not—the beard is fine,” her smile is faint and secret and too far away, “it’s more just…” She waves her hand at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“You just gestured to all of me.” 

“All of you except your beard,” she clarifies before checking on Eretson again.  She’s not built for levity in this kind of situation and he can see a serious depth sneaking back into her eyes.  “Everything’s a mess.” 

“Hey now, that sounds like ‘substance’,” he redirects, “how’s Snotlout?” 

“When his shoulder is better to the point that I won’t literally kill him, I’m going to hit him sixty-seven separate times,” she sets her chin, resolute, “I have a tally.” 

“Are you sure he’s ok?  That sounds a little low.”

She laughs, a tinge of mischief clouding the worry in her expression, “he’s ok.  He made a point yesterday to tell me his favorite story about you.” 

“Oh God,” Hiccup’s stomach falls as his eyes widen, “what favorite story is that?” 

“You know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear but it doesn’t stay, falling back against her flushing cheek, “some girl called you ‘Viggo’ and—”

“Yep, that one.”  If Grisly came in right now and offered to kill him to make this easier, he might just let him.  “Which version was it?” 

“There are different versions?” 

“No,” he drags his palm down his face, “not—I wish there were, every other Snotlout story is blown out of proportion so much it’s easy to call bullshit, but that one…he tells that story with unflinching accuracy and dedication to the truth.”  He shakes is head, wishing he had a bucket of ice to put out the fire on his face, “sometimes there are sound effects, I’m shocked you’re here.” 

“No sound effects,” she shakes her head, “maybe he’ll do those in court though, he seems to think he can prove your innocence.” 

“I think I’d rather plead guilty than listen to Snotlout tell that story in court.”  He laughs, but it brings Eretson’s plea deal back into his conscious mind.  Just as a concept to get used to, as something neutral that takes up space in his brain until he decides what to do about it. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” she whispers, crossing her legs and tapping an anxious foot in the air.  “I’ve been looking at this from every angle and I haven’t found anything yet.” 

“That’s definitely substance—”

“Eretson isn’t listening,” she mutters, “and if I don’t do something useful, I’m going to scream, I—”

“Hey, it’s ok,” he lies, and he can’t help thinking of Grisly’s promise, “you’re safe, that’s what matters—”

“That’s a copout,” she glares, tired and alive and his chest throbs, “there has to be something that we can do.” 

“I can’t do anything,” he hates how bitter he sounds, honest for the first time in days, and something about Astrid’s solid expression is almost shocked, like she expected better or at least different of him.  “I can barely keep the days straight, I—Hell, I told a psychologist that Viggo Grimborn is a hobby and now they think—well, I guess they already thought given that I’m here—”

“Hiccup,” she sighs, palm on the plexiglass, fingertips that he can’t touch smudged with ink and library dust. 

“Eretson said that a trial could take months,” he leans his head on his hand, “and I know that, rationally.  I know that big, newsworthy trials for serial killers take months to put together, but I guess—I don’t want to do this here.” 

“Do what?” 

“Anything.”  Even he thinks he sounds pathetic now and Astrid’s frown turns disappointed, which is worse than just sad.  “I just feel useless.” 

“I can see that.”  If it were pity in her voice, it would shut him down, but it’s not.  It’s something different, something stronger.  Something annoyed, and he realizes for the first time, she’s dragging him along a path of her choice, and him digging in his heel isn’t going to stop her. 

He looks at her hand and his jumpsuit and his blurry reflection that he can see superimposed over her face on the plexiglass if he stares hard enough.  He loves her.  He thinks about that ill-fated breakfast run and what he’d be doing now if things had gone differently. 

“I guess…I spent the last few years in complete stasis, just giving tours and knowing what every day would look like before it began.  And then, well, you.”  Then he fell in love with her.  No, she changed everything before he did that, but that doesn’t make it sound any less corny.  He wouldn’t have thought she was in the mood for corny, but her eyes soften slightly even as she holds her frown in place.  He forces himself to keep talking so that he doesn’t backtrack over anything he hasn’t decided to say yet, “and I think for the first time in a while, I thought these next few months were going to be different.” 

“How?”  Of course she asks the question most likely to make him look like an idiot. 

“Aside from well, you maybe being around I hope, umm,” he clears his throat and presses the phone closer to his ear to continue, “and well, I guess I have to finally figure out what I’m going to do with my life?  Because it isn’t sensationalizing murders that are still destroying everything I love about this city even a hundred years on, and,” he swallows hard and laughs, a sharp, surprised sound, “and I think I was looking forward to it, almost.  But now that’s not happening because my next few months are all booked up.  Literally.” 

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it,” she tries and fails to cushion the statement and it makes him smile even as his heart sinks, heavy and exhausted and desperate. 

What are the chances she’s still going to look at him like that after months? 

“That’s true.” 

“I’ll figure out how to book a conjugal trailer and we can work on your resume,” she offers, evidently satisfied with his suggested path forward.  “

“You shouldn’t,” he tries to swallow against the knot in his throat when he thinks about her on jail property, alone with him, and Grisly’s promised intent rings in his ears.  Months.  What are the chances she can evade Grisly for months if she can’t go five days without ending up here?  “It’s not safe.” 

“I obviously need to, just a few days of this and you sound like Eretson.” 

“Eretson’s right, Astrid.”  He sighs and rubs his hand over his face.  He could tell her.  The NWF guard behind him couldn’t make a move with cameras and Eretson standing right there in the lobby.  If he told her, then she’d know to run far away and—and he doesn’t now how deep Grisly’s cover goes.  

“I can take care of myself.”  Plus, looking at her fierce blue eyes, he knows that she wouldn’t run. 

Months.  Months of chances.  Months of not seeing her every day, or at all, if she’s doing what’s best for herself.  Months of limited information and fear that the next snippet that makes it through the bars on his cell will be bad. 

He’s right, it is time to figure out what he’s going to do with his life, and while he has decidedly fewer choices than he thought he would, the answer is still obvious. 

“Eretson’s right about a lot of things,” he sighs, hoping she’ll go easy on him and knowing that’s impossible, “he thinks I should take a plea deal.” 

“I told you not to joke about that—”

“I’m not joking.”  He shakes his head, taking in her furious expression.  It’s slower blooming than normal, jaw flexing and setting forward before the blue fire is truly lit in her eyes.  She’s tired, after five days, and she doesn’t now half of the truth.  He loves her, and the only draw to finally getting his shit together is that he’d be doing it with her.  He doesn’t get to do that now, but he can do something for her. 

He could tell himself that he’s doing it for Snotlout or for whoever would be unlucky enough to cross Grisly’s path next, but since he’s already planning to lie himself into a prison sentence for a murder he didn’t commit, he should probably stick to the truth, at least internally. 

“That decision is going to last more than months, Hiccup—”

“Yeah, and it’s about more than time.”  He almost tells her then, but he’s not sure what good it would do when she’s staring at him with something like hatred.  Too shocked, too sad, too helpless.  She looks like she wants to smack some sense into him and he’d let her if it meant he could touch her before he takes this step he knows he can’t retreat from. 

He wonders, briefly, if the real Viggo Grimborn ever thought about turning himself in.  When the fervor died down and no one mentioned him in the paper anymore.  Maybe he took a Victorian plea deal and got arrested for something else, something smaller, something forgiveable, but barely.  And only to some. 

If only Astrid didn’t forgive him for harassment, then he might have that ‘get out of trouble free’ card to spend now. 

Except he wouldn’t need it then, because he would have done his community service and gone right back to giving tours, staying across the street to respect a fifty-yard boundary.  No matter what, Astrid was destined to disrupt the monotony of his life, he just hoped one of the roads didn’t lead to a courtroom. 

“Hiccup,” she says his name in a tone he doesn’t recognize, half-pleading and half-insulting, both uncomfortable for her.  She opens her mouth again wordlessly, obviously unsure what to say to bring her pep talk back on track. 

“You were right, there is something I can do.” 

“No—”

“Visiting hours are over,” the NWF guard appears behind Hiccup, heavy hand on his shoulder as he looks at Astrid, recognition flickering in his otherwise brainwashed eyes.  “Time’s up.” 

“I’m not done here,” Astrid stands up, phone still pressed to her ear, glare dialed to the maximum even as Eretson steps into the room behind her and says something to get her attention. 

“Let Eretson give you a ride,” Hiccup says, memorizing how her eyes on him feel, even through plexiglass, even furious and confused, “please.” 

His cell is smaller than before.  The bed is less comfortable, the walls colder, the single light in the ceiling flickering at just the right frequency to prevent him from thinking.  His jumpsuit is itchy and his back is either too tense to hurt, or the sensation is entirely drowned out by the dull throbbing in his chest.  Most of the time, when people sacrifice themselves for the greater good, it’s faster than this.  It’s jumping in front of a bullet, not waiting alone for hours to invoke due process like a spell. 

He can’t say he’s surprised when the door to the hallway opens, and he’s definitely not surprised to see Grisly, monochromatic and rigid, danger stuffed carefully out of sight for the time being.  Hiccup’s relief is palpable and gruesome, he hates knowing what the man looks like after a kill, but he’s glad to know that this sober expression isn’t it. 

“I heard Astrid visited today,” Grisly’s smile blooms slowly as he steps out of range of the hallway cameras and Hiccup rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah?  Did a little birdie tell you?” 

“I trust you didn’t tell her anything sensitive,” he gloats, a cat pinning a mouse’s tail down and watching it struggle. 

But Hiccup isn’t struggling, not anymore.  He’s not trying to escape, he’s steering into the skid.  He’s a mouse full of rat poison, ready to dive into the belly of the beast. 

“Oh, so you can’t get the recordings from those visiting phones?  Eretson was wondering about that, thanks for the tip.”  He jokes, voice even, and Grisly straightens his uniform.  Hiccup wonders if he designed the NWF uniforms himself, and the thought strikes him as kind of pathetic.  Less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of an institutional fanboy, a blatant self-insert too self-conscious to be believable. 

At least when Hiccup puts on an act, he gets real antiques.  He commits.

“I just thought I’d remind you of her…precarious situation.”  It’s bluster, painted on thick and smudged before it could dry into armor. 

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget it if I tried.” 

“Good,” Grisly’s smile is cracked around the edges, veneer wearing thin after a long day at an office job he hates, “you seem to be taking something seriously for once.  You know, maybe all of this has been good for you.” 

“The legal system is supposed to rehabilitate people after all,” Hiccup shrugs, on the weird end of a paternal lecture from someone he respects so little that he feels the need to make it clear.  “Maybe I’ll finally be an upstanding citizen when this is all over.” 

“Upstanding,” Grisly’s lip curls, eyes manic and alive for just a second before he wipes has hands on his pants and selects one key off of his keyring, “if it keeps your spirits up…” 

“Oh yeah, I’m downright chipper,” Hiccup nods, “catching up on my sleep. So, if you don’t mind,” he points at the evening sky outside and fakes a yawn. 

Grisly grits his teeth, feral for a second, canine too sharp, “of course.  Can I get you anything else while I’m being so accommodating?”

“I think I’m good for now,” Hiccup waves him towards the door, “I’ll let you know though.” 

Grisly leaves then, shoulders rigid, and Hiccup hates how the silence makes him wish he’d dragged out the conversation longer.  He tells himself that this will be over soon and tries to think about his new tour, a thrilling, courtroom-based tale of murder and eventual, inevitable betrayal.  

[deme-lu]

Get to know me

Tagged by sweet @risusensei. Thank you so much dear <3

Nickname: I have none?

Real name: Angélique

Zodiac: Aries.

Favorite musicians or bands: the GazettE, Dream Theater, Edguy, Angra (Andre Matos era),  Iron Maiden, Metallica, Suppuration, Depeche Mode...

Favorite sports team: I'm not that much into sports, but I support the French rugby team and the rugby team of Toulouse, the town I came from, the very famous Stade toulousain Rugby hehe <3 I never miss a game;)

Other blogs: I have an old blog where I used to post anything I crafted, mostly polymer clay figurines and amigurumis.

Do I get asks: Rarely, but I like it !

How many blogs do I follow: 158

Tumblr crushes: Fave blogs on tumblr are: @salamechecad, @b-o-t-t-o-m-l-e-s-s-a-b-y-s-s, @cali-in-reverse, @cancerianwastelandcat, @ivyclimbs, @rad-is-more, @ashorterurl, @radmushroomboy, @taka-chan @sweetlolixo @venomous-spider-lily and @fckpotatochips. A very special crush on @pearlchen because she’s been the sweetest and closest friend since so long now <3 ;) 

Lucky numbers: I don't know ???

What am I wearing: An old Faith no More Tee-shirt with ripped jeans and a grey hoodie. A total Idgaf mood;)

Dream vacation: Japan and any Disney park in the world.

Dream car: I'm not interested in cars, just need one that takes me anywhere I want.

Favorite food: Anything with cheese, olives, peanuts, french fries and pizzas

Drink of choice: Tea

Instruments: Sadly none.

Languages: French (native), English, I lost what I learnt from Italian and Spanish sadly, and currently learning japanese, sukoshi zutsu.

Celebrity Crushes: Omg. Ruki and Uruha are probably my ultimate weakness, I also found Alice 9's Tora extremely yummy, and I probably will never get over the crush I've always had for Captain Harlock from the anime, and for Viggo Mortensen, because honestly what a man^^.

Random fact: I'd never thought I could meet as many kind and lovely people here, but here we are^^. Much love and positive thoughts to all of you !!!

Tags of people who I’d like to see play along:

@salamechecad​, @b-o-t-t-o-m-l-e-s-s-a-b-y-s-s​, @cali-in-reverse​, @cancerianwastelandcat​, @ivyclimbs​, @rad-is-more​, @ashorterurl​, @radmushroomboy​, @sweetlolixo​ @venomous-spider-lily​, @and​  @fckpotatochips​.

[lgcxvg]

♞ – type zero mission: fansign – ♞ [+8 Rapping, +8 notoriety] tw: assault/violence, swearing and family dispute

It was easy to spot him in the midst of screaming fans. A middle-aged something man had no business standing by the corner of a new idol fan sign unless they were up to something no good or a chaperon of one the many teen bodies bumping against each other. But there was something peculiar with this old man, evident in his dead stare towards Viggo.

Type Zero has just about finished their fan service and is permitted to take a break before they proceed on with the actual fan signing. Quickly sticking a gum between his lips to get rid of the nicotine jitters, Viggo makes his way towards the backstage of the venue. Nodding and smiling at their fans but mostly kept his head down till he reached their designated prep room.

The corridors leading up to said room is mostly deserted except for the few occasional staff members running around and making the changes on stage. Viggo clasps the shoulder of the security assigned to him, asking the man for a bit of privacy as he meanders towards the restrooms. Viggo tugs the collar of his shirt feeling a little suffocated with the current happenings. Preferring to deal with a nagging PD later in favour of a little breather.

In a blind spot, at the corner of the entrance between the men’s room and the corridor, Viggo’s body is harshly tagged towards a corner and pressed against the cold wall. Instantly, Viggo’s hands come up in order to protect his body and was ready to hit his assaulter.

“Wait- please, wait.”

Viggo gasped as he stared at the man he noticed earlier, only this clearer view of his assaulter has him blinking rapidly. A chill runs down his spin as Viggo realises he was staring at who seems to be an older version of himself. “Who the fuck are you?” Naturally voicing his concern in English, shocked mind completely forgetting to function in the right etiquette or language.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” The man sobs out, mumbling in Korean as he tries to cradle Viggo’s face. But the younger’s returned reflexes has Viggo slapping the man’s hand away. “I just needed to talk to you, at once. I didn’t- don’t be scared. It’s me your father.”

Logically he knew with resemblance alone that he was related to the sobbing fellow. But to actually hear it said aloud, has his very soul leaving his body. Instantly so many things occur, even though he remains physically frozen. Everything Viggo dreamt of doing at this moment instantly flying out of the venue as all he can do is stare at the hysterical man.

“Sorry, please, I had no choice- your mother passed away after giving birth to you and I couldn’t I didn’t know what to do, please my son-“

My son, that has him snapping out of revere. Viggo violently rips the old man’s hands away from his person. Forcefully pushing him away enough to have his hysterical body slam against the other wall. In a distance, Viggo could already hear the yells and stomping feet coming their way. “I’m not your son, you delusional old fuck. Stay the hell away from me!”

He didn’t have to physically shove the man away as a set of security already has a grip on Viggo and is pushing him towards the worried Legacy staff members while his estranged father is being silenced and escorted outside the building. Far away from the innocent crowd getting organised to meet with Type Zero.

He was taken to another room by their manager, the one next to where he knows his members were waiting and probably heard the commotion from outside. “Fuck,” he curses out as he flops down against a wall, tears streaming down his face. This is their last week of promotions, literally the last thing he needed. The last thing the whole group needed.

A hand urges him to stand up, quickly a set of tissue and sponges wipes the tears and blotches out of his face. “Keep it together, Park. Just a few hours and I promise I’ll take you out of here myself. Focus on your achievements and don’t let some crazy man ruin this moment for you.” The solid and calm voice of their PD echoes through his subconscious mind, as hands fly to make sure his appearance remained pristine and presentable to be out in public again.

“Hey Park,” he feels someone patting on his cheeks lightly, “Viggo come on, buddy. Breath. You can do this.” Looking down at their manager, he feels himself slowly nodding. He doesn’t fully remember settling into his own skin but he comes back to his senses enough to act like a functioning human.

In no time, the fan sign has only been delayed for five minutes, before Type Zero is back on stage. There was something stiff about his own approach and he could feel the worries glances off his members.  Once they sat down, Viggo tries to act as naturally as he can- smiling and joking around with their fans. As though nothing has happened backstage. Except if someone were to ask him what happened during the actual fan signing, Viggo would honestly respond with an “I don’t remember. I honestly don’t know."

[explosiveglitterqueen]

Christmas Prank Exchange

@nadia-the-wizardess​ sorry this was a bit on the late side BUT Merry Christmas as I hope you enjoy the little gift I have for you. (Also I apologize if Persephone is too out of character) 

Down in the night cafe there were four students sitting around laughing. “HAHA the look on their faces was hilarious,” Luca managing to say in between his fits of laughter while hunched over. Viggo who was sitting close by was chuckling as well nodding. “You two are so bad,” Viggo said as both Persephone and Lizzy were leaning against one another hysterically laughing. “That was so much fun, they didn’t know what hit em,” Persephone said grinning as she was getting out the last bit of laughter she had. Managing to sit up correctly, Lizzy wiped a few tears from her eyes. 

“Gosh that was amazing, a-and the best part was that we got Klaus too,” she said, praising their latest and biggest prank on a bunch of their friends in the prefect group. As the group of troublemakers hung out, a light bulb went off in Luca’s head standing up. “You guys I had the best idea,” he said as the three looked at him questionably waiting for him to explain what was going on in his head. “So we know Christmas is coming SO why don’t we do our own Secret Santa, but with a twist,” Luca suggested with a huge grin as the three exchanged glances before looking back to the green haired boy.

“But what would the twist be,” Persephone asked now becoming more curious of this Secret Santa. “Well instead of one gift we’ll give the person two as one will be a normal gift as the other will be a prank one! As the fun part is that the one receiving your gift will have to guess which one is the real or prank gift,” he said pridefully with an even bigger grin. “Count me in,” Viggo said agreeing to the idea as the girls nodded in agreement.

~~~ Time Skip ~~~

Persephone was strolling through town as she looked down at the piece of paper that had the name she was giving a gift to as by chance she got Viggo. “What can I even get him,” she questioned herself as he wasn’t exactly the easiest person to shop for. Thinking of the things she knew he liked, she mentally listed some things that he’d possibly like. “Maybe I’ll get him a baseball bat…. No, he’ll probably just end up breaking it like the last one I got for his birthday,” she said muttering to herself as why was it so hard to come up with a good idea. Well for one thing was that she really wanted this gift to be really special since he happened to be her crush for some time now.

She walked into the new shop to see if they possibly had anything that would stand out. Clothes? No. Some for of jewelry? Nope. A cool pair of shades? Mmmm tempting but nah. This continued on for a while in Persephone’s head whenever she’d see something. That was until an interesting shape caught her eye as she stopped to examine it more closely. It was a good sized glass bottle that was in the shape of a grenade as much to her surprise it was a bottle of cologne as on the front in an interesting font was written Bombshell. She picked up the bottle to smell it as smelled really good. 

Thinking on it for a bit she put the bottle down and picked up a box of cologne as picking up the body wash of the same brand name to give to Viggo as a set. Content with her find, she made her way to the front to pay for the gift which she also ended up grabbing a pair of shades for him since why not. Having paid for everything she left with a smile feeling very good about her gift as Persephone made her way back to the academy as this would be the only thing she’d have to wrap since her prank gift was already set.

~~~ Christmas Day ~~~

It was finally Christmas as the four trouble making friends were gathered in an empty classroom that was decorated for their own little party. “Alright who’s ready for the gift exchange,” Luca asked seeming to be a bit too excited for the moment they’ve been waiting for. Gathering around Luca seem to have a cup and shaking it and pulled out a paper and opened it. “Perseph, you’re giving your gift first,” Luca announced showing her name on the paper. Already feeling nervous she set down both of the nicely wrapped presents in front of Viggo before sitting back down. “Merry Christmas,” she said as he seemed to smile when receiving the gifts.

“Thanks,” he said looking into Persephone’s violet eyes before looking down to the two boxes to try and see if he could figure out which one wasn’t the prank gift. Viggo finally picked a box as he started to open it as once it was fully opened there was a small explosion of colored powder as the three laughed while Viggo cursed from the surprise and swatting at the air. “Ack some of that shit got in my mouth,” Viggo said as the powder dispersed as what he wasn’t aware of was that his hair that originally is a dark purple, was not hot pink. “BAHAAHA,” Lizzy busted out before wheezing from laughing too hard while Viggo raised an eyebrow. “What you laughing bout flower child,” he barked until he got a glimpse in the hand mirror she happened to have on hand.

“Sephone you turned my hair pink,” Viggo shouted using his friend’s nickname though he didn’t look too angry about in which in response Persephone smiled and said, “Merry Christmas~” Having getting over the prank he grabbed the box and opened to get his real gift. Pulling everything out of the box, he looked at the three items and smiled as it brought her joy that he seemed to enjoy what she picked out for him. Giving her a side hug he thanked her before pulling away and putting the body wash and cologne back into the box then placing the sunglasses on top of his head. “Alright next is,” Luca started to say while his hand was swirling around trying to pick the next person before pulling out a piece of paper and unfolding it.

“Well look at that, looks like I’m up,” Luca said taking his two boxes and sliding them over to Lizzy as he added “Merry Christmas.” She looked over to Luca and laughed with a smile before putting her attention on the boxes as she seemed to carefully inspect them for a moment. She ended up picking up the left one as she unwrapped the paper from the box and opened which so far nothing bad had happened but inside that box was a smaller box wrapped up. Taking that box out and ripping the paper off of it there was ANOTHER box. “Gosh Luca how many boxes you got in this,” she questioned taking it out and unwrapping it as opening it to show a cute pair of earrings of foxes that look like they’re hanging. “Come on how’d you guess it right, I was really hoping you’d open the prank one,” Luca said in a pouting manner but still wore a smile on his face. “Nice try but I think I’ve known you long enough to know all your tricks,” Lizzy said getting up and giving him a quick hug. 

It was down to two more people who had to give gifts as Persephone could only wonder who had her as either way she’d be more than happy. “Know what, I’m just gonna go next,” Lizzy said picking up her gifts she put the two boxes in front of Luca before sitting back down. “Merry Christmas Luca,” she said, smirking as the three watched Luca instantly picking one of the boxes. “Haha I may not have been able to prank ya, but there’s no way- Hey you got my favorite snack,” he was starting to talk until he saw what was inside. She nodded smiling though it seemed she was starting to bite her bottom lip. Excitedly starting to take the lid off to get a piece instantly out came a splatter of blue sparkly paint to which once again the room filled with laughter. “Oh Luca the look on your face hahah,” Lizzy started to laugh though came to a stop when she saw the look he was giving her. “Uh oh,” she said before scrambling out of her chair and making a run out of the room which Luca was screaming her name chasing after her.

Being the only two in the room, Persephone and Viggo laughed as that was hilarious to watch. “Well I guess that just leaves me,” Viggo said with a grin as he put his two gifts in front of her as he pulled his chair to sit next to her. The overflowing feeling of joy Persephone was feeling as she could only imagine what was in the box as even if she picked the wrong box at first. Though he seemed to push one of the two towards her before saying, “Open this one first.” Raising an eyebrow in confusion she took his advice trusting him, ripping the paper off the box and opening to find inside a music box? Or maybe it was a jewelry box, but nonetheless she carefully picked it up and took it out. Slowly opening the box, it happened to be a mix of a music and a jewelry box as what she found inside shocked her causing her violet eyes to widen. There was a necklace inside in which when she picked it up by its silver chain there was a charm of what seemed to be a dragon’s claw as it was holding onto a sparkling sphere of opal. Looking up to her dear friend, he was actually blushing slightly or was she imagining things.

“I know it’s not like the gifts I’ve gotten for ya in the past,” he started to say though he seemed to cast his eyes away. “But… I wanted this one to be special cuz you’re really important to me Sephone,” he continued to further explain as Persephone could only feel her own face flare up and her heart racing. Smiling fondly at the necklace she glanced back over to him replying with “I love it, it’s beautiful. Thank you Viggo.” Unclasping it Persephone doesn’t waste a second more and puts it on, carefully making sure she reclasped it before looking down to admire it some more. “Be my girlfriend,” she suddenly heard as she was caught off guard and looked over to him instantly as she wasn’t hearing things right. “H-Huh,” she could only utter out still trying to process what was happening. 

“I said… I asked if you’d be my girlfriend. You’re one of the only few people who really talk or hang out with me as honestly… I feel the happiest whenever I’m with you,” he repeated himself and more as his face was even more red. Feeling herself smiling brighter than a kid on a snow day, she instantly replied, “Yes.” Seeming to be surprised by her answer he blinked and looked at her, hoping he had heard her correctly. “Don’t look at me like that. It makes me happy that you feel that way because I really can’t really see myself with anyone else but you,” she said despite how embarrassing that sounded as thankfully the day class prefect and deputy weren’t there to tease them of their confessions. “Well then, open your second gift,” Viggo said with a smile as she brought the second box closer to her in order to open it. Inside was a single little plant that had little red berries hanging off of it tied with a pretty white ribbon. Picking it up and turning towards him to ask him what it was, her eyes widened when suddenly feeling lips on her own. Having it all register she happily returned the kiss before the two pulled away looking into each other’s eyes. “Merry Christmas babe,” Viggo said with a genuine smile as Persephone without hesitation said back “Merry Christmas baby.”

[a-l-ias]

Friction

It is so freaking cold up here! As much as I love winter,  this is a bit too much. So naturally, let’s put Hiccstrid in the same situation.

           Astrid Hofferson was freezing.

           Frigid.

           Frozen.

           Frosted over.

           Turning into an ice-cube, for lack of a better term.

           The heavy woolen furs she had cocooned herself in before falling asleep (or attempting to) did very little to shelter her skin from the sting of the arctic air, and even less to ward away the tiny, fluffy snowflakes just beginning to fall lightly from the star-less sky. She could no longer feel her fingers, or her toes, and she vividly pictured each digit slowly turning a brilliant blue beneath the covers. Her body had long since given up on shivering, for it seemed fruitless; her lips were chapped and blistering from the burning wind that rushed past and shook the branches of the empty trees; her eyes dry and aching from the bitter bite of the Archipelago's winter. She would have been fine she hadn’t neglected to pack warmer clothes for their impromptu expedition into the northern woods of the Piquolot Mountains. She would have been fine if the gusts hadn’t blown the campfire out. She would have been fine if she had decided to curl up with Stormfly and the other dragons in their messily adorable muddle of limbs and teeth. Of course, all her mistakes would have been easy to correct, but that involved getting up and out of the relative safety of her layers, and Astrid preferred to suffer only half of what the elements could dish out for the whole night, instead of the entirety of the weather’s wrath for a couple minutes.

          However, as the night wore on, she started to regret her decision.

          As soon as the snow had started, Astrid had glanced longingly over at the bundle of blankets a few feet away from her, knowing that he would provide more warmth than her layers could ever hope to (most likely from his blushing at the close proximity). Her friends, though, slept near, and if she and Hiccup wanted to keep their relationship on the down low, they couldn’t be discovered in such a compromising position by the other riders. She imagined waking up to the jeering sneer of Snotlout, the scandalized expression of Fishlegs, the utterly bewildered faces of the twins, and Heather’s smug “I told you so” grin. Not something she was too keen on.

        Astrid rolled over on the hard forest floor, feeling a twig dig into her hip, and telling herself firmly that she didn’t care, because if she did, she’d have to reach outside the blankets to move it, and her hand most surely would not return. She wiggled her torso irritably in a vain attempt at shuffling it out of the way. Sighing, frustratedly beyond all else, she curled in on herself farther.

        Astrid had been sick plenty of times—once with a horrible hacking cough and bloodied phlegm at age six that had the entire village worried she wouldn’t survive; once with a stomach bug that had her rejecting everything slammed down her throat; more recently, she came down with a bout of eel pox that had her drunkenly tottering around her house hopped up on pain herbs. She’d wondered if that was how it would end—if this soggy heap of sweat and pale, glistening skin was how she would be remembered. Her nights spent tossing and turning with aching limbs and a pounding skull, grimaces torn from her raw throat with every shift of her exhausted frame were anything short of torture. If asked, Astrid would have, hands down, replied that those short stints of malady were the worst days in all her nineteen years; the lingering stench of stale body and rotting barf and sour clothes haunted her every time she so much as sneezed. Right now, though, she would take those sleepless, boiling hot, crampy, achy nights over this sleepless, freezing cold, shivering, frore night any day.

        Pursing her lips—which was painful and probably ripped the skin open in multiple places—she finally came to a conclusion: she didn’t give a damn what her friends thought. Better to endure the teasing and the invasions of privacy than the endless glacial winds. Resolutely gathering the blankets about her shoulders, Astrid stood up, stumbling a bit as feeling started to flow back into her feet with a barrage of pins and needles, and marched over to her sleeping boyfriend. Her teeth chattering, she knelt down next to him and carefully removed her pauldrons and arm guards, along with her skirt and (sadly) her boots, attempting to minimize the amount of metal she brought into the huddle.

       As she pulled the top blanket back, he moaned in his sleep and shifted deeper into his bed roll, exposing his peaceful countenance. His lips were slightly parted; the worry lines in his forehead that had become a common occurrence during the day had faded. Astrid—as much as she hated to sound soft—found herself staring at him intensely when he slept, reveling in the fact that only she received the honor of seeing him in such a vulnerable position. With a slight smile on her face, Astrid crawled under the covers, tucking it around the both of them. Wiggling her way between his arms, weaving her frozen fingers into his shirt, and burying her face in his chest, she felt the heat of her breath radiate back. She heaved a contented sigh and burrowed further into his loose, sleepy embrace. It wasn’t until Astrid hooked a leg over his hip that Hiccup finally woke up.

        “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice husky and laced with sleep.

        “I was cold,” she answered concisely.

        Hiccup let out a breathy chuckle, gracing her scalp with his warm exhale. He stretched his arms out behind her languorously, and settled his right hand on her thigh over his hip.

        “Obviously.”

        She felt his other hand wander its way into her braid, combing lightly through it until it found the band that tied the end off.

        “Hiccup - “ 

        “Shh,” he whispered. “You look so beautiful with it down, it’d be a wasted opportunity.”

        Despite hating the feeling of her hair as it hung loose, Astrid did love the feeling of Hiccup’s fingers carding through the russet strands, so she stayed quiet.

        “Besides,” he added, the low and quiet sound rumbling in his chest. “You’re cold, aren’t you? It’ll help.”

        He tugged at the end and the braid quickly uncoiled. Hiccup looped his fingers in her hair, and ran his hand through the curls.

        Astrid hummed into his neck.

        Hiccup smiled into her forehead.

        “You had a good idea,” he said finally, planting a kiss to her temple. “It’s a lot warmer now.”

        “Took me forever to make up my mind. Glad I did though.”

        “I was contemplating joining you before I fell asleep.”

        “You should have. I was freezing my fingers off.”

        He chuckled again. “I can tell. They’re like snowballs.”

        Just out of playful spite, Astrid raised her numb palms to his face, cupping his cheeks.

        “Geeze! You’ll give me hypothermia!” Regardless of his complaints, he didn’t move.

        Astrid smiled with him, tilting her head up to look at him from beneath her eyelashes.

        His eyes were half-lidded, and in the dim and moonless night, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

        Astrid scraped her fingertips against the day-old stubble adorning his jaw - an activity that had become a habit for her in their most intimate moments.

        It was his turn to hum contentedly.

        His hand in her hair stopped moving at the base of her head, and he gently pushed her forward—into a kiss.

        It was slow and lazy - Astrid’s arms curled around his neck, and Hiccup’s equally cold fingers pushed her tunic up slightly to cradle her closer to his body. It was casual swipes to tongues, soft scrapes of teeth, and gentle caresses all intended to get the other as close as possible. They parted once for air before they were lip-locked again, taking their sweet time. Astrid’s hands and feet slowly regained warmth as Hiccup reached down to rub her toes, and untangled her fingers from his hair to press them under his shirt and on his chest, never once breaking away.

        She could feel his heartbeat against his ribcage, a steady rhythm that was devoid of the frantic pace that had been commonplace during the nascent stages of their relationship. She mumbled incoherently at the feeling of his smooth skin and lean muscles beneath her palms.

        Hiccup snickered into the kiss. “Miss me?”

        She smacked his shoulder, but nonetheless tittered herself. It had been quite a while since things had progressed to a physical level between them. Between Viggo and Berk and the Dragon Eye, they hadn't really had the time for anything other than a swift peck. She honestly did miss the nights tangled together in his bed, cuddling close to seize the rapidly escaping warmth, or the mid-afternoon assignations on newly discovered islands, heat entirely dependent on their fervid movements and torturous friction. It wasn't a desperate need, though, to feel him pressed against her—and aspect Astrid cherished. They didn't need the physicality to verify their happiness. They were perfectly content with simply being in each other's presence, laughing at corny jokes, sharing secret smiles, and goofing off in ways only best friends could.

        While most couples Astrid met relied on physical intimacy, Hiccup and she had progressed to a relationship involving emotional intimacy.

        And she loved it.

       Hiccup caught her wrist on its retreat, gently pinching it between long fingers. His lips parted in a sort of reverence that became habit even before they had started dating, as if she had fallen from heaven. She felt her cheeks warming, no doubt flushing ridiculously. Hiccup was probably beyond elated—he took so much pride in his ability to make her gush like a giggling pre-teen. Soft fingertips glided over her hand, hooking her digits over his, and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

        “Stop it,” she chided, uncommitted.

        “They’re still frigid,” he commented, eyes never leaving hers. “Is your other hand cold, too?” He didn't wait for an answer, simply grabbed her left hand and raised it to join the other. Evidently deciding they were colder than acceptable, he huffed a cloud of hot air over their entwined fingers.

        A shuffle echoed from across the campsite, and both of them stiffened, trading momentary looks of identical panic. If one of their friends woke up and found Astrid’s place empty…

        Footsteps padded across the stony dirt, petrified blades of grass crunching under heels that advanced towards the couple. Hiccup stifled a yelp, placed an anxious hand atop his girlfriend’s head and pushed her down, stuffing her face into his abdomen in an attempt to conceal the incriminating evidence of their relationship.

        A stifled and indignant “what!” came from below the furs, and Astrid struggled, infuriated, against the offending movement. Her heartbeat sped up as she took a deep breath of the stuffy air filled with the musty odor of unopened closets, and she clawed at Hiccup’s wrist.

        A curious, low warble interrupted her plight, and the pressure on the top of her head lessened considerably, allowing Astrid to resurface and roll over in their burrito. Toothless whined pitifully as he pawed desperately at Astrid’s leg, ears flattened against his inky scales and gums bared in an adorable pleading smile.

        “Odin’s ghost, Hiccup. It’s just your dragon!” she snapped.

        She could feel his embarrassment emanating from every pore. “Sorry,” he stuttered.

        Astrid heaved an enormous sigh and gave Toothless a commiserating pat. She clicked her fingers by her feet and the dragon obediently followed the direction, slumping down with a muted thump on top of the extra blankets. Rolling over, she gave Hiccup a soft smack on the forehead.

        “Owww,” he griped. “Why do you keep abusing me?”

        Astrid ignored the question. “You’re a dork,” she scolded, settling back down in his arms.

        “Yes,” he conceded. “But I’m your dork.”

        Astrid laughed, a genuine show of mirth that had been absent from her life for a couple weeks now. “Not to mention cheesy. And cliché.”

        He smiled again (Astrid noticed there seemed to be a lot of that going on), and smoothed his palm in circles over her back.

        Astrid’s eyes started drifting closed, now droopy from the much needed heat and weighed down by the anchor of slumber. Her mind sank into the fog creeping through her senses and she let out a yawn fit for a giant.

        “Remind me again,” she muttered around the yawn, “why you decided that searching for dragons in the middle of Vetr was a good idea?”

        Hiccup leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her face smashed into his neck, but this time, she didn’t mind, grateful for the loving embrace.

       “I don’t know. Remind me never to do it again, though.”

        “How did the idea even surface though? Yesterday you were perfectly content with pounding out whatever inane project you have going on.” Her words were muffled from the fabric of his fur doublet. It took him a moment to decipher what she’d said.  

        He shrugged. “It really wasn’t my idea. Fishlegs suggested it.”

        “Of course Fish suggested it,” Astrid grumbled. “Idiot.”

        Hiccup scoffed softly. “You came, didn’t you?”

        Astrid pulled back just a smidge, enough to look her boyfriend directly in the eyes. She pointed at herself forcefully. “Yeah, but I had an obligation to come.”

       “What obligation was that?”

        She raised a questioning eyebrow. “You, stupid.”

        The smile that pressed against her skin was more effective than any fur cloak.

        “I—oh,” he decided.

        She wriggled farther away and studied his expression. His haphazard russet hair flopped in front of his eye, crinkled against the mound of wadded up blanket he’d fashioned as a pillow. A half smile danced across his lips slyly, and he brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

        “You think I’m an idiot, too,” she accused, punctuating her point with a series of forceful jabs to his chest.  

        His smile slowly melted. “I—you—seriously, you decided to leave the safety of your heated hut back on Berk for a trip you’d heard about the day you were supposed to leave. That’s a bit of moron showing right there. You traded a fluffy piece of cushion perfection for a sad little pile of withering leaves. Hence, you are an idiot.”

        Astrid blinked, and then frowned doubtfully. “By that definition, you’re also an idiot.”

        “But that was established a while ago.” Hiccup grinned, the gap between his teeth displayed adorably.

        She snuggled closer again, rubbing her thigh over his hip for added heat.

        Friction. Wonderful friction. The force that warmed her heart and stoked her passion and gave her a purpose. This was how love was supposed to feel: trapped in the supreme tug of someone else’s gravity, constantly hurtling towards each other, colliding, crashing. They were mutual. Partners. Equals. And their monumental ardor fueled their actions. Their friction gave them life.

        Astrid pressed a gentle kiss to Hiccup’s neck, noticing that his breathing had become shallow and steady in their comfortable silence.

        “Love you,” she hummed.

        Hiccup exhaled a soft murmur in a sleepy response.

        It wasn’t long before she joined him in the haven of dreamland.

[spacekeets-artistic-madness]

Viggo Gladiator ‘What if’-chapter 1

Here have a dust bunny of a thing, won’t be very big, probably about 3-4 chapters max? Just playing with a ‘what if’ scenario.

some disclaimers; Set after twintuition but before Shell Shocked (that doesn’t even happen lel), they don’t go to Rome, these guys just got inspired from a visit there once

Rated T for language

word count: 2,103 (sorry)

Ryker kicked a small rock across their camp, sailing gracefully into a tree, denting it before hitting the ground, the Viking paces back the other way.

Hiccup approaches the pacing Hunter leader carefully, “Look, Ryker, calm d-” he doesn’t get far in the sentence when Ryker wheels on him, “No, I will not calm down, Hiccup, he has been missing for six months and we have found nothing on his status, he doesn’t do this. He never goes anywhere for long periods of time without telling me. So no, Hiccup Haddock, I will not calm down until we find him!” he explodes in the skinny rider’s face before turning on his heel away from Hiccup.

“Even a body?” Fishlegs asks carefully from behind Meatlug, this was not the first time Ryker snapped back at one of the Hunters or Riders.

Ryker stops and thinks, “At this point, that’s beginning to look more likely,” he says, going back to pacing.

The Twins look at the tree that Ryker kicked the rock into, studying several dents in the bark.

“So what do you say brother, did he beat his last record?” Ruffnut asks with a grin plastered on her face.

Tuffnut looks carefully at the marks, agreeing loudly to himself as he studies them, “I’d say, dear sister, that he has,” he confirms, both the twins laughing.

The entire camp stops when they heard the wing beats of a Nadder, Astrid coming into view, landing in the clearing.

“Anything?” Ryker and Hiccup ask simultaneously.

Astrid purses her lips, looking downcast away from them. The Hunters dip into their tents preferring not to hear Ryker’s next rant.

The Viking growls with frustration, stomping over to a tree he punches it, leaning against it, “Where the fuck could he be?!” he asks to no one in particular.

“Whomever kidnapped him, is very good at masking scents,” Dagur says, stepping forward, surprisingly the only one with a calm head.

Ryker looks towards the Berserker, struggling to keep calm, “And what would you suggest we do, Dagur?” he asks, tapping his fingers restlessly against the tree as the Hunters carefully peak out of their tents.

“Normally I’d suggest to calm down, but, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t want to hear that any more,” Dagur says with a joking underlay to try and get Ryker to calm down for awhile.

Astrid walks up, “Yes, but we’ve found nothing of Viggo for six months, even after turning over the same rock on the same island four times,” she says, maybe just a bit worried about Viggo.

Dagur nods, “As I mentioned, these guys are good, it might be a year before we even find a trace or mention of Viggo, odd, shouldn’t Heather be back yet?” he asks, getting sidetracked when he realises Heather has yet to return from a similar patrol like Astrid’s.

“Not exactly, considering we sent her south and there’s not much that way,” Fishlegs says.

Ryker’s ear twitches to the sound of wing beats, “Funny, because I’m hearing the approach of a Razorwhip right now,” he says and Heather comes into view, landing Windshear in the clearing, looking conflicted but oddly relieved.

“Something?” Hiccup asks hopefully, side eyeing Ryker.

Heather nods, “He’s alive at least,” she says and everyone oddly enough whoops with joy.

“Where?” Ryker immediately prods, letting only a bit of relief show.

“Down south, apparently he’s been fighting in this gladiatorial ring for four months, and he’s been fighting side by side with a Terrible Terror and another Night Fury,” Heather informs.

“There are more!” Hiccup breathes out with wonder.

Ryker raises a brow, “What, did you think yours was the last one? Of course there’s more!” he says, rolling his eyes as he turns back to Heather, “Anything else you found?”

She shakes her head, “I didn’t dare get too close to this place, I just interrogated a fisherman. I did try to get close, but Windshear got on edge. It’s best we all go as one,” she warns.

Ryker nods, “We go now,” he orders.

Hiccup nods, “Alright everyone, mount up, Hunters choose a rider to ride with,” he says, Hunters equal to the riders numbers for better efficiency at finding Viggo.

Ryker approaches Dagur and Shattermaster, nodding. Dagur gets on the green Gronkle, patting the dragon’s skin behind him, Ryker getting on and everyone takes off, following Heather.

***

It took five hours to reach the island following Heather’s stead, but when they got there they just see bodies strewn across the island, the island and the large, crude, arena standing in the middle, slightly blown up, devoid of living humans.

The riders land, dismounting from their dragons as they look on with horrified curiosity, “What happened here?” Fishlegs asks no one in particular.

Ryker kneels down to look at the corpse of a fallen soldier, a deep diagonal cut parting his chest armour, “Who ever did this, did it with impressive efficiency and ferocity,” he observes, looking over to another corpse with its head caved in. He shudders.

The Twins land after surveying the arena, “Ok so, what ever made that explosion was definitely a Night Fury, but I’m not seeing Viggo anywhere,” Tuffnut says, pulling a face at seeing another corpse with its throat ripped open.

“So he escaped then,” Ryker says, looking over the damage, thoroughly impressed at what his younger brother accomplished.

“Ummm,” one of the Hunters start, “And he did all this? Sir, there is more than a hundred men that I can see and they’re all dead,” he says.

Heather lands after her survey, hearing the hunter, “Not a single Civilian is dead, he must’ve evacuated them himself, killing all the guards and arena ordinator,” she says.

Ryker purses his lips, “And the ordinator?”

“I can’t tell if his head was cut off then burned or if his head was burned off,” comes Heather’s answer.

Hiccup groans, “So great, back to square one,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not necessarily, because this time, Stormfly has his scent,” Astrid says with pride, grinning as the Nadder squawks proudly.

Ryker approaches Shattermaster and Dagur again, “Alright, we follow the Nadder,” he says, everyone nodding, mounting the dragons taking off.

***

Five hours later at dusk, they’re back at the island they’re camping on, following Stormfly through the forest, very confused as to why they’re going back to their camp when they part the bushes, seeing no doubt Viggo wearing odd armour pieces, sitting on the back of a Night Fury, looking through their camp.

Everyone pauses, taking in the scene, the Terrible Terror is devoid of any armour, perched on his right shoulder pad, the Night Fury though, has Gronkle Iron armour from head to tail, a saddle working into the armour with stirrups that Viggo has his feet in at the moment.

He angles his body to the left, facing himself and the dragon towards the others, his brows shooting up in surprise, “Uuuuuuuuuh…..,” he trails off, holding a piece of bread.

“I uh, left Catcher’s armour, wing blades, claw blades as well as Stalker’s wing and claw blades, over there,” he starts again, pointing to a spot in the corner, the aforementioned armour pieces dumped in a small pile next to a moderately large bag, Viggo seems to suddenly remember this bag, “Oh ya, also a bag of extra medical supplies in case I rip a stitch, please don’t touch,” he says, patting the armoured head of his Night Fury as he bites into the bread.

The gathered Hunters and riders continue to stare with much confusion at his change in personality.

Ryker manages to be the first to gather himself, “Why are you acting so strangely?” he asks, actually slightly worried about his brother’s well-being.

Viggo moves a lock of his brown hair, grown longer in his six months absence from scissors, out of the way of his eyes as he looks at Ryker, mildly confused by what he meant by the question before it suddenly seems to click by what he meant, “Oh, really strong painkillers with a bit of Dragon nip to help a wound heal, Imma bit loopy,” he says, letting out a weird laugh.

Everyone gets an ‘oh’ look before Dagur walks towards him, stopping when the Night Fury growls at him, Viggo patting its head, “Easy girl,” he assures.

“Right,” Dagur starts, “Two things, one; are you going to continue beating around the bush or are you going to tell us how you’re wounded and two; is that a female Night Fury?” he asks.

Viggo raises a brow as he shares his bread with his dragons, “Considering that I just referred to her as ‘girl’, yes, her name is Stalker, the female Terrible Terror on my shoulder is Catcher,” he informs, answering the second question first, gesturing to the yellow greenish Terrible Terror on his shoulder, eating bread.

“Alright, and wound?” Ryker asks, scanning his brother, Stalker seemingly helping him favour his left side.

“Aaahmmm,” he starts unsure, blinking in attempt to clear his head, brushing bread crumbs out of his short, scruffy beard. He regains his composure and starts again, “Four days ago I got hamstrung on my left leg, quiet severely too,” he says with cheer, getting distracted from what he was going to say.

“Viggo,” is all Ryker says to get him back on track.

“Oh right, I was uhm, hamstrung to the bone just about, according to the healer anyway, that blade came out of nowhere,” he says, getting distracted again with remembering the battle as everyone else cringes with sympathy.

Hiccup shudders again, “And they didn’t just amputate that?!” he asks incredulously, Toothless crooning at Stalker.

Stalker huffs harshly, Toothless looking offended then sorry, Viggo patting her head, “Don’t be so harsh Stalker! And honestly I wish they did, but nooOOOOoooo, they had to just numb my leg, stitch it back up, throw me back in my cell and woop-dee-doo back in the arena the next day with basic painkillers and fighting on Stalker’s back at her insistence,” he rants with sass, his dragons matching his mood.

Ryker winces, “Ooookaaay, howabout we get you off of Stalker so you can sleep?” he asks.

Viggo looks grateful, “That would be lovely, thank you brother, could you also remove the rest of her armour? She’s not that fond of wearing it unless we’re fighting in a Death Match,” he informs as one of the Hunters dip into his tent, coming back out with a spare bedroll, pillow and blanket, placing them on the ground.

Stalker pads gently towards the items, lowering herself slowly to the ground, Ryker helping Viggo off of her armoured back and to the bedroll, Viggo wincing slightly at the movement, getting comfortable. Catcher lands on his chest, curling up as Ryker helps Stalker out of her armour, placing the armour with the rest of the pieces.

“Ok, everyone back to your tents to sleep and we’ll all be rested for tomorrow’s tales no doubt, and I’m going to design a saddle,” Hiccup says, everyone voicing their agreement, heading into their tents.

He’s about to head into his own when he’s stopped by Ryker, “He’s changed, are you satisfied?” he asks with harsh words, slight venom dripping off each one.

Hiccup looks guilty, “Look I know saying ‘sorry’ will never change that I started this war, but for what it’s worth, I’m receding our bargain, you can keep the Dragon Eye,” he says, rubbing his temples.

That caught Ryker by surprise, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ryker, he and his dragons took out more than a hundred men, I do not really want to piss this Viggo off, ok?!” he whispers harshly, looking at the deep green eyes of Stalker, pupils slightly narrowed as she stands watch over Viggo’s sleeping body.

Ryker thinks back to the carnage at the island as well as the bloodied tail bludgeon he removed from Stalker’s tail that didn’t inhibit her ability to fly, “Alright, you have a point there. I’m going to sleep, we’ll deal with this in the morning as you said,” he says, shaking his head, beginning to head over to his tent, Stalker watching him carefully.

Hiccup enters his tent, no doubt to design a saddle and sleep.

Viggo cracks open his eyes and looks to Stalker, both sharing an amused glance, “Soo,” he whispers to her, “I don’t think they were aware I heard that entire conversation.”

She and Catcher let out small huffed chuckles before curling up to sleep fully for once.

[arlessiar]

Eleven questions

I’m incredibly late with answering this, but it took me a while and then the whole Kingsman SDCC thing happened in-between. So no idea if people are still interested in this, but now that I’ve written it I also want to post it. :)

I was tagged by @notbrogues @hartwin-af and @spockri

rules: 1. always post the rules. 2. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you. 3. write 11 questions of your own and tag 11 (or however many) people to answer them.

Questions by @notbrogues

1. Describe your least favourite character.

In general, the pointless love interests, the boring villains, the almighty and flawless heroes, the dumb and helpless females

(And just in case, the opposite – my favourite characters are the caring doctors, the smart geeks, and the loners, misfits and underdogs *g*)

2. A go-to comfort meal/snack/treat.

When my Mum crumbs meat or veggies to fry them she always makes a small fried bread/omelette from the rest of the eggs and breadcrumbs. She adds salt, pepper and some cheese. It’s an old Silesian tradition, my Gran always did that and we still do it today. It means home and comfort for me and I love it and I’ll defend it from every other hungry person in the house. It’s mine. My precious. Me eats it alone! *eg*

Apart from that – Avocado. Chickpeas. White chocolate. Chocolate digestives.

3. Describe a perfect vacation,     with no limit on funds or how long you can stay there.

I go there quite often, but still, London. It’s been my happy place for years. And from there I’d go to Cornwall, to the Lake District, the Brecon Beacons and the Highlands. With unlimited funds I’d take my parents with me or my BFF, and we’d spend lots of time visiting all the manors and country houses!

4. Do you listen to podcasts? If so, what are you favourites?

Listened to the Three Patch Podcast in the Sherlock fandom, but only a few times. Not really my thing in general.

5. One widely accepted fanon headcanon that you just don’t agree with?

Hmm, I like most of the fanon and can live with the rest. Not so keen on Percival being Roxy’s Dad. Distantly related, yes, but I can’t imagine him as her father.  

6. One story/movie/song/album/piece of art that resonated with you and that you will never be able to forget?

There’s so much I could write here, but I have to make a decision, so:

Stories, movies – too many to count!

Song and album – R.E.M., Automatic for the people, “Everybody hurts”. My fav forever band, and that song saved my life during a very low phase I went through in my teens. Oh, and Jeff Buckley’s version of Cohen’s “Hallelujah”. Listening to that for the first time was a revelation.

Piece of art: My favourite picture is Caspar David Friedrich’s Wanderer above the sea of fog. I could stare at it for hours. Also, seeing Van Gogh’s Sunflowers for real in the National Gallery had blown my mind and I’ll go to look at it every time I’m in London.

When I was a teen there was an exhibition in my city with photographs from Nan Goldin. Our art teacher took us there and most of my classmates weren’t prepared for this rather explicit art. For me though a gate had opened, I finally understood the art of photography, and it’s been a passion of mine ever since.

7. If you have a day off, no responsibilities or pressing matters to attend to: what are you doing for the rest of the day?

Three words – Lego, AO3 and tumblr.

8. Favourite past trend that you are most nostalgic for?

I honestly never really followed trends a lot, so I’ve no idea what to say here. ^^ What I really really miss is the way they made computer games in the Nineties. Give me a good old fashioned Adventure with tricky puzzles and I’m happy.

9. What’s a hobby/skill you’ve always wanted to learn?

Playing the harp or the violin. And archery. Might still try the latter one day.

10. Where do you see yourself in ten years?

So sorry, but I have to skip this one... I don’t dream much anymore. The only thing I can say is: Hopefully still surrounded by the people who I love more than my own life.

11. What was your first fandom? First OTP? First NOTP? Any memorable experiences from those early days?

My first fandom was Star Trek, around 1991. I always blame my Dad for me becoming a geek because it was him who told me to watch TOS. :) Wrote my first story in a notebook when I was twelve, no OTP though then, it was rather Mary Sue-ish. ^^ Then we got our first computer, and I had moved on to DS9. More stories, now on computer, still no OTP but lots of h/c. Then we got internet in 1996, and I was having some sort of epiphany – there was this world-wide phenomenon called fanfiction! I was not alone! An amazing discovery! Saw my first slashfic at that time, Garak/Bashir, and I was 16 and all like ‘ewww’ and backed away from it (so that was probably my first NOTP).

Being a Tolkien fan for years I easily fell for the LOTR films later and wrote FF for that and published my first stories. Arwen/Aragorn was my first fandom OTP I guess. Saw more slashfic, Legolas/Aragorn, and I was still not convinced, but I read one. While I never shipped that pairing, slashfic in general suddenly started to look appealing. Well, and today I say “all I’ve learnt about sex, I’ve learnt from fanfic”, because those years were really educational… ;)

Next fandom was Stargate Atlantis (OTP McShep), my online fan-life started in earnest then with the Gateworld forum and LJ, then Torchwood (OTP Ianto/Jack), then Sherlock (OTP Johnlock). And here I am now, in the Kingsman fandom, with Hartwin and Merhartwin being my OTPs.

Now @hartwin-af

1. Who are your favourite artists/actors/fictional characters?

I admire Viggo Mortensen both as an actor and as an artist. And Colin Firth has been one of my favourite actors for many years. Closely followed by Chris Pine and Matt Damon. I also think Meryl Streep is a goddess.

Fav fictional characters: Aragorn, Sherlock, Mr Darcy and tons of others, among them right now Harry Hart :)

2. What are your favourite tv shows/movies?

Fav TV shows from the past: Star Trek DS9, Torchwood, MASH, SGA, Sherlock, Flying Doctors, Diagnosis Murder, Queer as folk

Recent TV shows: Agents of shield, Poldark, The Handmaid’s tale

3. What/Who do you fear?

Dying alone

4. What are you looking forward to the most?

At the moment my summer holiday and Kingsman 2.

5. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

The acceptance of ignorance you see nowadays. It’s ok to lack knowledge, but one shouldn’t be proud of it. It’s no badge of honour to boast about. There’s something you don’t know – go and look it up.

6. If you could make one thing canon in your fandom, what would it be?

DAISY UNWIN

7. Do you hoard usernames? 

Nope. In fact I’m known for having the same username for decades and almost everywhere…

8. Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? KFC or McDonald’s? 

If at all, Coke. Coffee, with tea being a close second. McDonald’s, but rather Burger King!

9. What would make today better?

Less humidity. Apart from that it’s been a pretty fine day. :) 

10. What’s your favourite scent?

Privet when it’s in bloom.

11. What’s your proudest achievement?

Finishing my university degree (MA)

And @spockri

1)  Are you a morning person or a night owl? 

100% night owl

2) What is your OTP (and you can only pick 1!) and why? 

Currently Hartwin. It just… happened. Love the fact that they’re so different and yet so similar, and that there’s tons of chemistry between them.

3) What is your favorite thing about Colin Firth? 

His smile. Absolutely.

4) What’s your favorite book and how would you recommend it to someone who’s never heard of it? 

That is in fact Atwood’s “The handmaid’s tale” and has been for years. I would recommend it as a book that’s become scarily relevant again in the light of the current political situation in the US.

5) Where is your favorite place to read? 

Used to be my bed, but the older I get, the less comfortable it becomes. So today it’s my desk chair. And Parliament Hill when I’m in London.

6) What was your last impulse buy? 

Clothes. I have way too many clothes… send help! Or Livia Firth, so that she can rip me a new one. Or Colin so that he can rip my clothes off… ok, wait, I need to stop.

7) What is/was your favorite subject in school? 

That was English and Art

8) Are you an introvert or extrovert? 

Introvert, INFJ. And an HSP. 

9) Do you have any trips/vacations planned this year? 

Most likely London again in August, and a short trip within Germany to visit two wonderful friends in October

10) What would you do if you saw Colin Firth walking on the other side of the street from you? 

In my dreams I’d work up the courage to walk over to him and smile and say hello and ask politely for an autograph… depends on the situation though. So in reality I’d most likely try not to bother him to respect his privacy and just stare at him from afar… while silently hyperventilating

11) I probably know you because we’re both into Kingsman, so when did you first watch Kingsman and what drew you to it?

When it came out I saw many posts about it on my tumblr dash and had no idea what it’s about. Thought it must be a big thing though and decided to watch it one day, but ignored it then on tumblr in order not to spoiler myself accidentally. It was on my list for a while and I finally bought the DVD in November 2016. Watched it with my parents. Was hooked in a second. This rarely happens to me, but I liked that the movie didn’t take itself overly serious but was still believable, and that the story had no loose ends. Also, suits and Savile Row (love a man in a good suit), and Colin Firth. Sold. The rest is history.

- - - - - 

Now, eleven questions from me, just in case anyone still wants to do this and isn’t sick of this meme already. :)

1)      What did you want to become as a child, and what did you become?

2)      If you were allowed to dress your favourite actor however you’d like, who would it be and what would she/he look like afterwards?

3)      Did you ever cry while reading a book or watching a film, and if yes, when was the last time that happened and why?

4)      What is your favourite piece of jewellery that you own?

5)      If you could invent and play any kind of yet non-existent role in an existent movie, who would you like to be?

6)      You have to share a room with a Kingsman character for one night. Who will it be and why?

7)      Did you have a comfort toy as a child and if yes, what happened to it?

8)      What is the colour/design of your bedclothes?

9)      What was your happiest fandom moment so far?

10)   The last film you saw in the cinema

11)   You invite your favourite fictional character for dinner and you’re having pizza. They say it’s your choice – what kind of pizza would you order for them?

You all probably did that already, I’m sorry!!

@agentdagonet @ripgalahad @jeherion @jesspaw @londongypsy @letmecomealong @galahadthelate @solarrift @lady-mephistopheles @fideliant @deepdarkwaters

[astridthevalkyrie]

Dead of Night: Chapter 8

Modern AU. Includes magic. Hiccup Haddock never wanted to move to Berk and start a completely new life. With a new mom, weird kids, and an embarrassing crush on a blonde girl, things aren’t going his way. And worst of all, Berk is hiding a secret. In the dead of night, when no one is awake, something...is out there.

Chapter 7

 Hiccup had been putting off the days until he had to go into the secret doors again. Until he had to see the dragon again.

With everything going on, he hadn’t given much thought to the actual dragon.

It was really fast. It was jet black. It had green eyes and black pupils that could look life threatening but also...cute. Tonight he would see it again.

This time, though, he was going with with the knife that Viggo - if he had been right and it really was Viggo who had roped the dragon - had left, and a piece of fish. It smelled, and it made him want to barf, but it was the only thing he could snag in town. FIshing was a big thing in Berk, and there were baskets upon baskets outside Gobber’s forge. It was thanks to the forge that he had managed to sharpen the knife too, after quietly observing how Gobber did it. It was actually something that really looked fun. Blacksmithing.

Hiccup the Blacksmith. It didn’t sound half bad.

He shook these thoughts out of his head as he went through door after door. With him he had yarn that he had bought, because getting lost was still not on his agenda.

As he walked, he tried thinking about what kind of dragon the one in his house was. The Book of Dragons showed nothing that looked like it, and it had hundreds of them, from different authors, based on the frequent handwriting changes.

But there was nothing that looked like the black dragon. There were a few pages that had been ripped off, so he supposed that was where the information was.

The dragon, as it always seemed to do, found Hiccup before he could find it.

In a dark room with only a knife in his pocket, it felt dangerous. But somehow he knew the dragon wouldn’t hurt him. It inched closer, and Hiccup offered the fish. The dragon looked at it, snarled, and backed away.

Maybe it didn’t recognize him? Maybe they had short memory spans. But it would remember the knife, wouldn’t it? The knife that nearly took it’s life?

Hiccup lifted up the uniform shirt he was still clad in, revealing the knife. The dragon snarled, and it backed away even more. That was not what he wanted, so he took the knife out, and before the dragon could react, threw it to the side, where it hit the wall and fell with a clang.

All of a sudden, the dragon stopped, straightening itself and looking at him curiously.

Hiccup took a deep breath - it was bound to be a long night.

“Haddock!”

Hiccup snapped out of his thoughts as a fist slammed his locker shut. He nearly jumped ten feet in the air, and hadn’t even recovered when he was shoved against the locker and felt it connect with his head. Suddenly, the room was spinning.

Memories of last night were still fresh in his head - he had touched the dragon. It had only been for a moment, but that moment had felt incredible. Even more incredible than it should have felt.

The dragon was toothless, in a way. It had retractable teeth and when it tried to smile, he was glad that he had not squealed because it would not fit his manly persona at all.

Not that he was feeling any manly now, because above him was a rather vicious looking boy. He was glaring down, and Hiccup had the sense to whimper. He didn’t even know the boy’s name.

“What are you playing at? Inviting some geeks and freaks to your house?” The boy snarled, and didn’t even offer time for Hiccup to respond before he was punched in the stomach and fell. “You better invite me and my friends” - was it bad that the first thing on his mind was the boy’s grammar? - “over to your stupid house or else I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” a voice hissed from behind the bulking boy. The bully turned around, and Hiccup lifted his head weakly to see Astrid Hofferson, with one hand on her hip and one eye raised.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” she said mockingly, dropping her bag to the floor, “you were just calling me a freak, or a geek, and threatening the new kid. Definitely could get you in trouble, don’t you think?”

“Clear out, baby. I’m dealing with him now, but when I go to the manor I can take you and we can have some fun in one of the corridors,” the boy said - more as a sultry suggestion than an order, and Hiccup realized Snotlout wasn’t the only one who flirted with Astrid. Of course he wasn’t. Not everyone lacked confidence like he himself did - and this place was so traditional that they would just love to be inappropriate towards Astrid Hofferson.

Astrid Hofferson wore the same look on her face that she always did when Snotlout tried - an unaffected one, bordering on disgust. She stepped forward, pulled her fist back, and without a second of hesitation punched the boy in the face.

His crush on her just multiplied itself by ten thousand, to the millionth power. And he was supposed to be mad at her.

The brute roared with anger, leaping at her as well, and then they were both fighting. It was after school - there weren’t even any teachers to stop them. At one point, the boy had Astrid pinned with a dirty smirk on his face, but she kneed him when the sun didn’t shine, and it wasn’t long before she had him face down on the floor, with his hands pinned behind his back.

Even more brutal than the fight were the insults she called him. “Son of a half troll, rat eating, munge bucket! Coward dung face! Crap eating, goblin breath, ugly faced, brothel wench!”

The girl’s lip was split, and her eye was going to be black tomorrow, but she had won the fight.

“Get lost,” she hissed quietly, yanking him up and shoving. He didn’t hesitate.

Hiccup shakily stood up, suddenly feeling very pathetic. Why did he need anyone to save him, let alone his crush who wasn’t supposed to be his crush because she was way out his league and was pretty judgemental?

Relatable, Hiccup thought wryly.

Astrid swallowed, and then coughed into her fist awkwardly. “So, uh, are you okay?”

“Just had the wind knocked out of me,” he said honestly, seeing her cheeks redden while feeling his own get hot, “you - you should probably get that checked out.”

Astrid looked mildly disappointed. Her jaw set, and she sighed, nodding. “Yeah. It’s only fun if you get a scar out of it though. Whatever. It’s stupid.” She turned around, her braid swinging behind her, along with many stray pieces of hair that had come out during the fight. “Bye, Hiccup.”

“Wait!”

She was looking at him expectantly. Hiccup bit his lip - would she believe him? Would she laugh? Would they never talk again?

The Book of Dragons had come out of his bag when he was pushed down. Hiccup picked it up, looked her in the eye, and took a deep breath.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

[maedarakat]

Fic: At the End of the World

A little something I wrote after watching season 4 of RTTE. Major spoilers ahead.

The explosion rocked the air itself, as though Thor had struck the island down to its heart. Dragons screeched and took to the air like flocks of startled birds.

Their wings ripped past the riders, giving them difficulty in staying aloft.

"Head back quickly and take anything you can carry!" Hiccup shouted. Tuff was the first to turn his dragon's head, and Ruffnut quickly followed suit, already knowing who was on his mind. Below them, the twins could see the boars from their pit swimming into the ocean toward the sand bar.

"She's okay, Tuff, the island only just exploded," Ruff tried to console him. She needed her brother calm. A panicked Thorston wouldn't be able to find a panicked chicken. They landed at their hut first. Tuff jumped off Belch and ran inside, calling for his pet and sticking his head into the coop Hiccup had helped him build. Ruffnut waited on Barf, and kept a vigilant eye on the erupting volcano.

------------

Heading from the far end of the island, Dagur was having his own trouble, trying to keep Shattermaster from falling behind. The poor injured Gronckle could only move so fast, and Mr. Triplestryke was terrified and moving way too fast. Dagur couldn't blame him; this was most definitely a bad situation.

"Easy, big boy - we can't leave Shattermaster behind!" Dagur called, gently patting the bigger dragon's flank. "Slow down, and we'll all get out of this together." They continued on at a slightly slower pace, Dagur continuing to look behind them and make sure his beloved Gronckle was still following them.

The Triplestryke suddenly stopped with a confused chirp as a little brown and red something scuttled out from a bush. It clucked weakly, breathing hard as though it had run a very long way.

"Aww, is it you Chick-nut?" Dagur climbed down and knelt in front of the bird, picking her up. "Did you come all this way looking for Boy-nut? That's just . . . that's so sweet. Why don't you rest on the way back to the Rider's base? I'm sure he's looking for you too."

A loud crashing from the forest to Dagur's left made him look, and what he saw made him give a yelp of alarm. A wall of crawling lava was melting the trees, causing them to topple as the intense heat cut through the base of their trunks.

The Triplestryke grabbed Dagur with his tails and set the Berserker on his back, taking to the air. Chicken squawked in alarm, cowering down in Dagur's arms as an enormous fir tree crashed just where they'd been standing, only to be swept away by lava.

Frantically, Dagur searched for a bright spot of green amid all the red and black, while the intense heat made his skin tighten and blister. "Shattermaster!" he cried, heartsick. There was no sign of him - he couldn't fly; where had he gone?! Mr. Triplestryke crooned at him sadly, as though apologizing.

Through his tears, Dagur gently patted his side. "It's not your fault. You- You didn't have time to grab the both of us." Stifling a sob, he absently cuddled Chicken, who made a soft burble of concern up at him.

He tried and failed to give the bird a smile. "C-Come on, Chick-nut. Let's get you back to Daddy."

With a broken heart, and one last desperate, fruitless scan below, Dagur let the Triplestryke fly him away in search of safety and the other riders.

---------------

She wasn't anywhere.

Tuff sobbed and leaned against Belch, as lava scorched the earth and filled the pit beneath their hut. Soon the legs of the structure would go, and it would all come crashing down. Cool arms wrapped around him and his sister's hair helped shield him from the intense heat.

"She's not here, Tuff," his sister said gently. He was sure Ruff understood how this year had already broken his heart; first with Gruffnut, then Macey. Now it seemed he was even going to lose . . . No, he had lost Chicken. He just wasn't accepting it like he should, and now he was endangering his sister and their dragon.

The others had gotten what they could and had also flown above the island, looking for Chicken. Nobody had turned up anything. Of course they hadn't; how could one little chicken outrun lava? Tuffnut sniffed and turned to hug his sister tightly.

"C-Come on, Ruff. We should leave. This place . . . it has too many memories."

Ruffnut got on Barf and reached a hand out to help pull her brother up onto his own dragon's neck. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a small black sheep doll, handing it to her twin. "Here, hold on to Fluffers. You need him more than I do right now."

Tuffnut gave her a grateful smile and accepted the stuffed animal, hitching as he held it close in a hug. The Zippleback crooned at both of them and took to the air, just as their hut started to buckle and fall to a fiery destruction. It would be awesome under different circumstances, but not now.

As they flew to meet the others, a scene of desolation was laid out below. Blackened trees, bubbling seas of lava, and . . . what in the name of Thor was that?

"Hey-" Tuff said hoarsely, pointing and Ruff looked, gasping aloud as she saw the same thing. A stranded Gronckle stamped its feet on the tall craggy boulder, growling excitedly as it saw them.

"Is that Shattermaster?!" Ruff cried. They swooped low, Barf and Belch's talons at the ready, and scooped up the dragon.

The Zippleback held Shattermaster tight against their belly, making sure to have a good hold on him. Now that he was out of danger, Shattermaster looked about worriedly, gnashing teeth as he scanned the horizon for Dagur.

Tuffnut weakly smiled at the injured Gronckle, leaning down to pat him.

"It's okay, little dragon, I know you're worried about Dagur. He's survived worse than this."

If only he could say the same about his beloved Chicken. Tuff sniffled and hid his face in Fluffers. It was a long way back to Berk, but at least they'd managed to save someone.

---------------

Dagur had flown ahead without the other riders, heart too broken to look at Meatlug or to deal with company. He was still holding Chicken as Triplestryke landed. The bird had fallen asleep in Dagur's arms. It was strangely comforting to have something so warm and soft snuggled up in his arms. No wonder the Boy-nut was so attached to her; maybe Dagur should get a chicken as well.

He saw Stoick heading over to him and looked up, only for the Chieftain to stop dead in his tracks at Dagur's grief stricken expression. "Where's Hiccup?! Is my son alright?!"

Dagur started. "Oh! Yes, sir - he's heading here now. Everyone's fine." He quickly filled the Chief in, including Viggo and Ryker's apparent death, and the volcano eruption which had just destroyed the Edge. By the time he'd finished, Stoick looked like he'd just aged another forty years.

On the distant horizon, both men could see Hiccup and the other riders as specks, approaching Berk. The chief put a hand over his heart, and let out a relieved sigh.

"That boy and his dragon are going to be the death of me someday," Stoick vowed, shaking his head fondly. "Thank you, Chief Dagur. For aiding my son, returning our gold, and being our ally. I have to admit, I never thought it possible we could again have peace between our tribes."

Stoick held out his hand and Dagur shook it, honored to be given a second chance. Chicken stretched out her little legs but otherwise didn't stir in his arms. The Berserker smiled despite everything, and gently stroked her feathers. Oh well. At least he'd managed to save someone.

He barely looked up as the Dragon Riders landed, still unable to look at Meatlug.

"Hey guys," Dagur said, heart sinking at a new thought. What would the others think about Shattermaster? Would they think he'd just left his poor Gronckle behind, upgrading to a new and more fearsome dragon? That's what he'd think, if he were them.

Nothing, however, could have prepared Dagur for being suddenly tackled off Triplestryke's back by a wiry, long-haired Thorston twin. Chicken squawked as she was abruptly woken, and she flapped free, leaving Tuff to hug Dagur tightly with surprising strength.

Tuffnut's face was buried against Dagur's shoulder, probably to try and hide the fact that he was sobbing. "Thank you, thank you, thank you -"

Dagur chuckled and patted Tuff's back. "It's okay, Boy-nut. She was worried too."

Chicken crowed joyfully and hopped on Tuffnut's head, fondly plucking at his hair. She gave another loud squawk and dove out of the way, as a Gronckle decided to join the pile, belly flopping on both of them and licking faces with no prejudice.

"SHATTERMASTER!!!" Dagur yelled, throwing his arms around his Gronckle. Now it was his turn to noisily sob as he grabbed Tuff, Chicken and Shattermaster together, all in a tight hug.

Hiccup and the other Riders watched, grinning as their friends rejoiced in being reunited with their loved ones.

Snotlout watched with a few tears in his eyes at the emotional display, and then turned him and Hookfang around. "Well, enough of this sappy nonsense - some of us have work to do. What are we doing now, cousin?" he asked, looking at Hiccup.

Hiccup looked thoughtful for a moment, scratching Toothless' chin. "There are still threats out there to Berk, an allied tribe that needs our help rebuilding, and new dragons to find. We'll figure out a plan for later, but for now, I think everyone deserves a rest. We're home now, so let's enjoy it."

Ruff raised an arm to that. "Hear hear!" she shouted in agreement. She glanced back at her brother and Dagur in amusement, noticing the two were sitting in the grass across from each other, excitedly telling stories about how they'd saved each other's 'brothers' from certain death.

They seemed like they had a lot to bond over. Honestly, it was fine by her; more reliable people in her brother's life certainly couldn't hurt. Heather was watching them too, tilting her head slightly as she tried to make sense of the sudden and unexpected brother-bonding in front of her.

"Let's leave these two alone for a while," Astrid said, beating Ruffnut to the punch as usual. Ruff sighed and rolled her eyes, but she was fully on board. She and Astrid linked arms with Heather (poor confused thing) and whisked her off to have some 'girl time.'

Hiccup was right. They were home, and for once, things actually seemed like they were going to be okay.

-end

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x10: “Torn and Frayed”

THE ROAD SO FAR: Dean comes back from Purgatory. Sam hit a dog. Cas is back from Purgatory thanks to Naomi. The demon tablet can tell them how to close the gates of Hell. Amelia Richardson and her breakup with Sam. Samandriel, Crowley’s prisoner. There are other tablets. Sam doesn’t trust Benny. Benny killed Martin. Sam’s upset about it.

(Recap set to “Katmandu” by Bob Seger. The show really loves his music.)

Samandriel had enough time to ask Naomi for help.

Poor hon.

Kermit, Texas.

Sam’s back at his original hotel room.

NO NO, YOU DON’T GET TO SLAM THE DOOR.

“Long drive.”

“Well, I wouldn't have had to make it if you hadn't have hung up on me.”

True.

“Yeah, well, I heard all I needed to hear.”

“No, you heard what you wanted to hear.”

Exactly.

“I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to – to –” To leave.

“What do you want to hear, Sam? That I was wrong? Fine. I was wrong. Okay? But if you'd have just heard me out, if you'd have trusted me, all of this could have been avoided.” YEP.

“Okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now?”

“That depends. It depends on you. On whether or not you're done with him.”

Oh, shut up.

Are you done with Amelia, Sam?

“Glad I made the drive.”

:’) Cas had been healing people in his spare time. Bless his heart.

New assignment from Naomi: find Samandriel and bring him to Heaven.

pfft.

“Damn it, Cas! How many times I got to tell you – it's just creepy!” An angry bear.

“So, who snatched Heaven's most adorable angel?” Oh, come on. Cas is Heaven’s most adorable angel.

“Samandiriel is being held in the general vicinity of Hastings, Nebraska.”

“The general vicinity? That's all you got?”

“Yes, which is why I need your help. It seems this is gonna involve... talking to people.”

Cas’ reluctance to talk to people is me.

“You saw nothing.” Ok, Dean.

It took about a minute before Cas asked for Sam.

Sam thought it was Dean, he was about to throw down.

“So, why are you here?”

“It's not what it looks like. I – I thought you were in trouble – that you had – It doesn't matter. You're okay.”

“I was okay. You know, settled in... content. But here you are. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Amelia was settling.

Huh, Amelia was Sam’s Lisa. Both of them were the women Sam and Dean spent a year off with (and in both cases, Sam and Dean had lost the other brother...but also didn’t know that other brother was alive and out there). Both women then deal with the unexpected return of their Winchester, along with mixed feelings that come along with it. 

BACK AWAY, AMELIA.

“Yeah, I care.”

“I care too.”

Oh god.

It’s really hard to watch Samandriel get tortured.

A talking, burning bush.

Geneva, Nebraska.

Cas is riding shotgun.

“Mr. Hinckley? Hi. Uh, we're from the, uh, Geneva Gazette. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your ambush.” Good one, Dean.

“Are you serious?”

“That’s his serious face, yes.”

What cute moment.

“What would you like me to say? That was great? That was... a mistake?”

“I don't know. Both, I guess.”

That was a great mistake. *s i g h s*

“Do you understand I have a life here? A good man that loves me...a man I don't want to hurt?”

“I know.”

“And do you know you're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing before I go to sleep?”

Do y’all understand that she’s cheated on her damn husband/boyfriend? So much for not wanting to hurt Don. Imagine how he’d feel if he ever found out about this.

“I'm telling you that if you stay, against everything I believe in, I would be with you. But if you leave... don't come back. I can't have you with one foot in my life and one foot out there doing... whatever it is you do. That life of yours I have no idea about.”

Sam never told her about hunting, and he probably planned never to tell her.

“Words will never cover what you mean to me – what you'll always mean to me-“ OKAY. I’m sorry, but I have hard time believing that.

“How about two days from now, around 7:30? I'll be off work then. One of us will be here, and we'll know. Neither of us will be here... and we'll know. Or both of us will be here... and we'll know.” You’re gonna “Serendipity” this?

“Hey, what do you say, this doesn't pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?”

You know what gets to me about that? Dean doesn’t have to ask Cas’ opinion about getting lunch, not really. Cas doesn’t even eat. Dean can haul Cas anywhere and Cas wouldn’t mind at all. It basically sounds like Dean’s asking Cas out on a lunch date.

They found Crowley’s hide out, and it’s surrounded by demons and angel warding.

“Well, you, me, and a demon knife ain't gonna cut it.”

“Ok. I’ll get Sam.”

Ha, Cas.

Fizzles’ Folly. The safe boathouse.

Our disgruntled Prophet.

“I’ll get what we need.”

Dean’s so impatient.

Ah, no wonder. Since Sam’s not around, and Kevin’s working, Dean’s got no one to talk to.

“Your mom's hot. I'm serious, your mom is one sexy –” DEAN SHUSH.

Aww, Benny.

Dean and Benny had a coffee date set up.

“You kicked your mom to the curb?” oohh Dean-o.

“Watching humanity – it never gets old, does it?” No. People watching is fun.

“I got what we need.”

“And I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?”

lmao Cas.

Team Free Will back at it again.

RIP demon. Killed by Sam.

Despite being pissed at each other, Sam and Dean do work well together.

RIP demon. Killed by Sam.

RIP demon. Killed by Dean.

Ain’t it good to have back up?

RIP demons. Killed by Sam and Dean.

AAWW NO

“Dean, hurry up. Come on!” HELP HIM THEN, SAM.

And none of them noticed Cas’ petrified state???

WHAT IS IT WITH THAT ZOOM IN, LOL

“There’s an angel tablet.”

There’s so much tension and action, going on.

RIP demon Killed by Dean.

RIP Viggo. Killed by Dean.

“Listen to me closely. I've been there. I know! They're controlling us, Castiel!”  Samandriel was the first to tell him.

RIP Samandriel. Killed by Cas. :(

I honestly think Samandriel was gonna die either way.

“Samandiriel was broken. He revealed the existence of what I would die to protect – what any of us would die to protect.” AGAINST HIS WILL.

“I just murdered one of our own to protect a tablet?” Yeah, it’s shitty.

Big yikes on this.

I really forgot how garbage Naomi was.

Did she instruct Cas to thank them too or not?

Oh god, they’re angel-proofing the cabin now?

Can we thank Cas for bringing Sam and Dean together again? Not just physically by bringing Sam from Texas, but also as brothers? Their conversation about Cas sounds like Sam never left at all.

And then Dean remembers Sam wanted out.

“Don't you have a girl to get back to?”

“Yeah. I guess I do.” 

You guess? That doesn’t sound very convincing.

“She does make me happy, and she could be waiting for me if I went back. I'd be a very lucky man if she was.” I disagree...but whatever.

“Well, I do know this – whatever you decide, decide. Both feet in or both feet out. Anything in between is what gets you dead.” Dean telling Sam what Amelia told him.

Dean now has to take his own advice.

I know it’s only fair for Dean to drop Benny if Sam was gonna drop Amelia...but it sucks ass and I don’t like it.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah, man. Adios.”

Nooooo.

Amelia shows up at the hotel room...alone. One of like, the three times I ever really felt bad for her...

But you know what? Earlier when she was telling Sam about how she had a good life and a good man who loves her, she never mentioned anything about her being happy with said good life and man. She sounded happier and more sincere talking about how she thinks of Sam.

So now that Sam didn’t show up, Amelia has to go back to a life and a man that she may not even be truly happy with.

I’ll fully never understand how Amelia was worth quitting the hunting life. I’ll never fully understand what Sam saw in her.

Goodbye, Amelia Richardson.

Sam and Dean chose each other, over Amelia and Benny.

[tysonrunningfox]

Hi!!! I just got done rereading Ripped! It’s an absolute favorite of mine and I’m so sad it’s over! But I’m curious, if you were going to reveal who Grimborn was, who would you have chosen? Would you have kept it simple and just made it Viggo or chosen Ryker or someone?

Ok, so, I’m going to use this ask as a platform to geek out a little bit because I engaged in some amateur Ripper-ology myself, both out of personal interest and as Ripped research, so I do have a lot of opinions and am glad I was married first because there aren’t many Astrid’s walking around ready to become involved with someone actively obsessed with the minutae of a Victorian murder spree.  

And this got long.  Because I’m a mess.  

So Grimborn is really just Jack the Ripper, like, I made up a new and largely similar case so that I wouldn’t be tied to the details or geography of the original Ripper murders, but it’s Jack the Ripper, so who I would have revealed as Grimborn is inherently linked to my opinions on the Jack the Ripper investigation.  Which are largely that it was bungled for a whole lot of reasons from lack of forensic knowledge to anti-Semitic/anti-immigrant bias, as well as just…lack of experience with the entire concept of what we now call a ‘serial killer’.  There was no basis for investigating this kind of string of murders, there was no understanding of the escalation or the nature of the crimes.  

The Jack the Ripper theories I hate?  Kosminski, I know they keep saying that they have DNA evidence, but it’s mitochondrial, and I largely just hate the theory because the cops targeted him because he was a) an immigrant, b) worked as a barber, and C) (The Big One) died in an asylum with ‘paranoid psychosis’, which would probably be diagnosed as schizophrenia of some kind today.  So that’s just an ableist, racist argument and sharing mitochondrial DNA with hundred year old evidence just isn’t good enough for me to ignore it.  It’s actually why in Ripped, I said that the only forensic breakthrough in the Grimborn case specified that the killer was of Scandanavian descent, because fuck the Kosminski argument.  

I really like the Montague Druitt theory, in theory, except for similar backwards thinking about him being “sexually insane” for potentially having a gay relationship in school, mostly the fact that he showed up dead right around the time of the last murder and had medical experience and knowledge of the area.  Plus, he very well matches the few sightings of people who might have been Jack the Ripper.  I don’t really have a Druitt analog in Ripped because it would be hard to build him up right, honestly, the closest thing to Druitt analog might be Grisly himself, which is ironic and I like it a lot, so I’m going to just say it was on purpose when it totally wasn’t.  

Johan is based on the Carl Feigenbaum argument, in that he was a merchant sailor who happened to be in town for all the murders and later committed a similar crime in America. Honestly, I do think that Johann is Viggo Grimborn, but there’s never going to be any way to prove it.  Johann probably isn’t even his real name, but the long-winded notes to the police are in character as well as the profiting off of causing havoc.  Plus, there’s some argument to be made about a religious component to the Ripper slayings, and I could get on board with that.  

But really, the point in not revealing is that Jack the Ripper or Viggo Grimborn don’t matter.  They’re murderous symptoms of the disease of human cruelty and our fascination with them is natural, but giving them celebrity is dangerous.  

This has been today’s serial killer history lecture, I should probably start a text service.