EVERY ONE OF THESE TRANSITIONS ARE AS FLAWLESS AS THOSE DEATH DROPS 🤩🤩🤩!!!

New hyper-fixation ALERT!!! I’m obsessed with this ship!!! I’m literally reading all the fanfics on ao3 for these 2 and looking at all the art!!! I Still love Hobie Brown though!!!!

i aint even know cuh 😭 the max and Bradley designs r by @honestlynotgonnalie i like ur human designs for them cuh!!

I honestly want to see how this ends 🤣🤣🤣🤣!!!

Us in 50 years

When people give Elsa crap for being "too sexy" for Disney

It’s like,

have

you

seen

what

Disney

has

done

before?

For gods sake, Ariel had a nude scene.

I LOVE IT 😂.

me when I go to the store with my mom.

Enjoy this snippet of Part 2 of my oneshot "Ne'er a Fear of Drowning"

“Gah-! Fuck!!” Snotlout hissed as Eret pinned his hand to the table with a thunk. The small gathering of vikings around him cheered, some threw their hands up in defeat as Eret claimed another arm-wrestling victory. 

“That’s three for me,” Eret proclaimed, releasing Snotlout and turning to his small crowd of gamblers, “Eret, Son of Eret remains undefeated!” 

He was met with slaps on the back and roars of approval. 

Eret and Snotlout’s Arm-Wrestling-Feud had become an almost nightly event over the last couple of days. Ever since they had first tried to out-dance each other in the Great Hall nearly a fortnight ago,  it was the evenings in Toke’s Tavern that had occupied Eret’s thoughts the most. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Astrid had cooed when he’d passed her in the stables earlier that day.

“Definitely all the stone I have to transport to the west-side this morning,” Eret had shot back playfully. 

Eret gulped down the rest of his mead now, as he accepted another tankard from one of his supporters. It tasted sweeter these days. “I believe I’ll be accepting my gold now?” Eret smirked at Snotlout, who was shaking his head at him in mock-disbelief. 

“Snotlout, what’re ya doin’, boyo?” an older man, Snotlout’s dad, if Eret recalled, slammed a fist across from them, making rings form in their mead. “Jorgensons don’t lose.”

Snotlout rubbed his hand, looking down at his father’s words, lips tightening. Eret paused. He wasn’t about to admit to Spitelout, in front of the people who had placed bets on them, that they’d been amping up the theatrics of their matches to garner a crowd. Eret turned abruptly, “What do you say, Jorgenson? Best of five?” He placed his elbow back on the table, fingers outstretched.

Snotlout’s eyes flashed his signature blue flame, “Oh, it’s on, Son-of-Eret,” He smirked. 

Their hands clapped together as Sigrid the Solid, their referee, reinstated the rules for newcomers with her hands on theirs to ensure no foul play. Once bets were placed, most of them in Eret’s favour, Sigrid lifted her hands from theirs, howling to start the match.

Snotlout’s muscles tensed as he wavered against Eret’s force. He didn’t go down easy, Eret gave him that. Although tonight, he seemed distracted. 

“You don’t normally lose this much,” Eret smirked, “It’s almost impressive.”

“Stop batting your big brown eyes at me, then maybe I won’t,” Snotlout grit his teeth. This time he was staring almost intently at their fists, whereas before his gaze had wandered. Eret huffed at the remark. He was going down. 

“Getting distracted?” Eret cocked an eyebrow. 

Snotlout grinned, “D’you want me to be?” 

They locked eyes. Eret’s heart leapt in his chest as he realised his hand was being lowered to the table, their hands warm in each other’s grip. He scoffed, “Hope you’re not trying to- mnh… fight dirty?” 

Sweat had formed on Snotlout’s brow, softly glistening in the torchlight. “And what would you do if I did?” 

 Eret looked down with a curled lip and exhaled, in fear he might catch flame. His eyes landed instead on Snotlout’s bicep, the muscle twitching and flexing underneath his skin. A map of Hookfang’s teeth littered it in ivory scars. Perhaps it was the mead, or the strength he had to use, but Eret felt the heat inside him rise. Gods, he thought,  I might actually catch fire. 

Although his arms looked soft, when Snotlout’s arm flexed one could notice it was all muscle. Years of wrangling a five-thousand pound dragon could do that to a man. 

Eret’s heart dropped as he felt the back of his wrist press into the wooden table. Snotlout's sabotage had worked. The crowd around them, which had grown, gave a collective shout of surprise as Snotlout broke his losing streak. The Jorgenson stood on his chair and revelled in the praise, chanting his signature, “Snotlout Snotlout, oi oi oi! Take that, Son of Eret!”  

Eret rolled his eyes and leaned back in his stool. “Need I remind you, best of five?” 

“Oh- yeah! Right!” Snotlout scrambled back down. They locked hands once again. “You ready to lose again?” He drawled.

“Are you?”

“Alright, lads, you know the rules,” Sigrid boomed, “Round two in… three… two…-”

“-...Eret?” 

Eret pricked up at the voice. Snotlout instantly thunked Eret’s hand onto the table and the crowd roared, but the arm wrestle was now far down on his list of attention. He searched the crowd wildly, until his eyes picked a familiar face. Eret rose to his feet. His hand left Snotlout’s. 

It couldn’t be.

“Hey-? Hey, Eret,” Snotlout called, waving his hands in confusion, “You just lost on purpose?” 

Some of the crowd parted and turned to follow Eret’s gaze. Engrossed in the match, nobody except maybe Toke had noticed a group of strangers enter Toke’s Tavern. They held no weapons, but looked warily at the vikings, who gave cautious glances back. “Well, well,” Eret grinned in recognition, “Look what the yak dragged in.”

The leader of the group had a white fur that draped across his body, and his eyes glittered a dark blue. A beam spread across his wide face. “Eret , Son of Eret!” He bellowed, stepping forward with open arms, “As I live and breathe!”

“My friend, it’s good to see you!” Eret exclaimed, and rushed into the handshake, which turned into an aggressive embrace. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Ahem!” Snotlout cleared his throat, appearing beside them almost as if he had jumped from one space in time to another. Eret pulled away, but didn’t take his eyes off his friend. “And just who,” Snotlout eyed up the stranger and jabbed a finger at him, “In the Nine Hels, are you?”

Hello. It's Kris the mun of blondbaka and I just wanted to say that I'm always excited to see another hardcore SNS fan<3 I think you and your blog are amazing and I was wondering if you knew of other SNS blogs I could follow? I just restarted my personal blog and I'm in need of more amazing blogs. Thank you for your time. Have an amazing day <3

Heeey sweetie!! Thank you so much for your kind words kfnskkdmsks ;____; I am in love with your rp blog ❤️

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And also many blogs I have not talk to but I am stalking every day XD

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Y'ALL NEED MORE LOVE AND APPRECIATION SJSJWKSKSK PLEASE FOLLOW THESE LITTLE ANGELS ;3;

Many of Horror (Chapter one: This secret goodbye)

Fandom - How to train your dragon (movie franchise)

Ship - Eretlout (+ background relationships)

Wordcount - 3748 words

Fanfic summary - Moving on is hard, especially from something that doesn’t want to be forgotten. But it’s easier when you have someone with you who understands that mind-scarring agony, it’s easier when someone will hold you in the dark when all the monsters come out to play, it’s easier when you’re loved. But Eret is going overseas and Snotlout is left alone in a cold bed. 

The dream is back and he feels sick. Sick in the head. (I really can’t think of a good summary for this, so sorry my dudes)

Tags/Warnings for this chapter - Mentions of past child abuse

So I have yet to finish this Fic yet but I’m just so excited to show it to yall that i just had to give you a little teaser!!! This fic takes place a year after HTTYD3 but the dragons never leave and Stoick never died because Hiccup deserved a whole family for more than one day (Dreamworks, i’m talking to you asshole)!

Also please check out The colour of friendship by Sarahenany and The colour of family by Thurdsday26 on the Archive because it they are big inspirations for this fic and if you love Spitelout bashing and Snotlout whump and found family then, oh boy, that is truly the jackpot of all Snotlout whump fics! Also, the title of this fic is based on the song Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro and this to the first like three lines and you’ll understand why! 

Please enjoy and give me any feedback that you have, negative or positive, do not hold back bitches!!!! Haha lol bruh

———————————————————————————————————–

Eret is leaving today, but he’ll be back in a few weeks, a month maximum if the summer storms keep at bay (Ruffnut prayed briefly to Thor before bed last night. She doesn’t know why; it was an impulse thing). He, along with six other crewmates, will be sailing far up north to the port-island he once called home to establish a trading route for Berk and to perhaps arrange a meeting between Chief Stoick and the chief of his native village. The Northmen are good people, Eret had reassured during a council a week back, who’ve long been held under the sole of Drago’s boot and will gladly reward those who levered that pressure with both miscellaneous goods and a long-lasting alliance.

The only problem with this grand adventure is that they’ll have to travel dragon-less.

The Northmen too have been terrorised by dragons for generations and they will not hesitate to net, bludgeon, and flay the first dragon they see, even if said dragon has a rider on their back. Act first and ask later kind of folk, a mindset which Ruffnut is very familiar with. Eret predicts that the concept of living with dragons in peace and harmony is one his people will be suspicious of for a time, but he assures that they’ll warm up to it eventually. So, the first few trips will be dragon-less and slowly they’ll weasel their Berkian values in, a very cunning plan indeed if Ruff didn’t say so herself.

So today is the day of departure and she’s on her way to the docks for the send-off, alone for a change. Tuffnut, eager to be out the house and tired of waiting for her to finish braiding her hair, had nabbed Barf and Belch and left her on her lonesome to walk. At first, she’d been peeved to all Hel, rightfully so, muttering to herself about how easier life would be without her dolt of a twin till she remembered just how peaceful, well, peace was. As vexing as Tuff is, Ruff cannot deny her sibling love for him, but she also cannot deny the simple serene beauty of silence.

She’s striding down a street of huts, the docks insight, when she hears a terribly familiar voice.

“You better be back in two weeks, if you’re not, I’m coming after you,”

Snotlout.

Ruff pauses mid-stride and takes a step back, looking into a narrow alleyway between two huts. She steps closer and presses herself against the left hut wall, slyly peeking her head out to gaze searchingly into the shadowed alley where she’d definitely heard Snotlout’s voice. As mad as she is (and she is mad), she isn’t to the point of hearing imaginary voices in the shadows (not for a few years, at least).

There. Stuck between a wall and a bulky silhouette, is the short and distinctive shadow of Snotlout Jorgensen. The figure Snotlout is pressed against lets out a hushed laugh, head bowing and if wasn’t for that laugh, she’d definitely be able to identify him solely for the dark outline of his facial profile.

Eret, Son of Eret.

Oh, this… This is interesting, very interesting indeed.

“No promises, we might have to delay returning if we see a storm on the horizon,” Eret informs and Snotlout makes a displeased snort, to which Eret adds in response, “But if we don’t then, we’ll be back as soon as we can. Snotlout, you won’t even know I’ve left,”

“It already feels like you’ve left me,” Snotlout murmurs, head hung low, and it catches Ruffnut by surprise, that statement because it’s such a vulnerable thing for Snotlout to say and the way he says it, quiet and anxious, is so alien to her.

The use of the word “me” too, makes her mind turn and burn with theories because there is something so very deep in the small, added word. She doesn’t know what yet, but there is something painfully human about it.

Ruff watches the shadowed duo, transfixed as Eret lifts a hand to Snotlout’s chin, tipping his head up so that they are looking at each other.

It’s such an abnormal gesture for her to witness, especially between two people with whom she’s never associated such tenderness before.

Eret has always been this tall, handsome, foreign stranger with a silky voice and a self-assured walk, who is as handy with a sword as he is on a boat, who’s always there to help and give back to the people who gave him a better life. Snotlout has always been this hot-headed, confident loudmouth who is way too short to be as brave as he is and is way too good at singing for Ruff to admit, who’s full of unyielding loyalty and howling laughter. But most importantly, they hate each other.

Or, now that she thinks of it, they did hate each other.

The last few months have been lacking the usual rivalry between Snotlout and Eret and she doesn’t know why it’s only hitting her now. At some point, they two of them became friends and she’s pretty sure she isn’t the only one who hasn’t noticed, which is so peculiar because she, and the others, have seen the two of them hanging out at the sawmill and flying together at dusk to light the torches. Gods, they drank with each other last night and there hadn’t been a single crass word spoken. When did this happen? She and the rest of Berk have gone blind!

“Snotlout, I’ll be back. Soon. I can’t promise you when, but I’ll be back, and next time I go north, you can come with me,” Eret assures, and though Ruff can’t see Snotlout’s features, she can feel the atmosphere lifting and hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah?” There is something so hopeful and childish in the way he breathes that word, something that tugs at Ruff’s heartstrings.

“Yeah, I’m sure I can convince Hiccup to spare you of your very honourable duties for a few weeks,”

“Hey, shut up!” Snotlout’s foot jerks out sharply to jab Eret in the ankle, the former laughing breathlessly in response, “My work is honourable, okay? Someone has to test all those crazy weapons Hiccup cooks up and I’m the only man for the job, no one else is as brave as I am,” He exclaims, all confident and cocky and familiar to Ruffnut.

“You’re sure right about that,” Eret says as he again raises his hand and, this time, it comes in contact with Snotlout’s cheek, she can see the faint movement of his thumb smoothing over the skin beneath his eye. His voice is awfully soft with a terrible fondness that Ruffnut sometimes hears in Hiccup’s voice when he speaks about Astrid or vice versa, it’s a tone that she automatically links up to people who are fiercely in love.

Oh, Freya, they’re in love.

“You gotta head down to the docks, Eret, you’ll be late to leave… or whatever,” Again, that insecure whisper is back and by Gods, it sounds so brittle and shaky that Ruff almost considers the thought that Snotlout might be crying.

She would be if she was about to be separated from her lover for an unknown amount of time, Ruff ain’t afraid to admit that, but if Snotlout is afraid of anything, it’s expressing feelings and emotions (He’s afraid of proving he’s human, proving he’s weak). But then again, maybe it’s easier for Snotlout to air out his inner thoughts in front of Eret because, well, they’re in love and to be so intimate with someone, they’re eventually going to see all the ugly parts that you hide beneath the pretty façade. Eret has probably seen the old insecurity they all know that still lurks deep inside Snotlout, raw and unfiltered, a thing from his youth that made him angry and afraid, a thing that was just as damaging as the scars on his flesh.

Ruffnut, nor anyone else on Berk, will ever forgive Spitelout for what he did to Snotlout. She will gladly say that the day he was exiled was the best day of her life and she will not be alone in the statement. Cruel, merciless, cold-blooded bastard deserved to be Blood-eagled if you ask Ruff and Tuff (probably Hiccup too, no one was more enraged than he was.)

(Ruff has never been afraid of Hiccup, except for once. He’s far too lanky, too merciful, too kind, to be a scary guy. But that day, when Snotlout had lifted his tunic in the clubhouse and revealed the ivory scars that were striped across his back and chest, she’d taken a step back at the sight of the inferno that had kindled in his eyes, at the sudden look of mercilessness that had steeled his features, at the trembling fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a man ready to kill, like a man ready to burn then world to the ground, like a man ready to give it all up just for revenge. She was afraid of him that day. So, so afraid that she had nightmares about him for days afterwards.)

“I’ll be a bit late, the lads won’t mind,” Eret says lowly, drawing Ruffnut from her walk-in memory-lane, and she feels her heart tug as he bows his head to press against Snotlout’s, “I’ll stay here. With you,”

Forehead touching, especially in Viking culture, is the tenderest way to touch the ones who mean dearest to you. Be it a lover, a blood-relative, a shield-brother, anyone who is buried deep in your heart. And here, in the shadows of an alley, hidden and quiet like a forbidden dream, two people hold each other. Soon, they will have to let go and isn’t that the most heart-breaking thing? Letting go?

Her heart feels too big for her chest and she almost feels like a changed person by witnessing this, witnessing something she was never meant to see. Will love be like this for her too? Terribly tender and awfully soft? She doesn’t know, Gods, she shouldn’t be here.

Ruff tries to drag herself back but she’s like a moth to a flame, unable to pull herself away from this blindingly beautiful display of love, so raw, so real. She never imaged Snotlout to fall so easily to soft caresses, but of course, he would. It is always our deepest wants that will bring us to our knees and all Snotlout has ever wanted is love, a gentle hand, a place to bury his heart.

They share a deep and long kiss. It makes her feel lonely and she doesn’t know why. They part, breathing on each other’s lips and holding each other tightly because they know, they know, they have to let go any moment. Their foreheads are still touching.

“Promise me,” Snotlout whispers and she sees the silhouette of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, “promise me you’ll come back. To me. Eret, promise you’ll come ba-”

A quick but meaningful kiss quietens Snotlout’s desperate pleas and Ruffnut has never heard him beg before, not like that, not like he’s afraid that Ragnarök is about to fall upon them. Eret cradles Snotlout’s face with his large hands. They are so close, they’ve almost become one shadow.

“I promise you, Snotlout,” Eret vows, quiet but vehement, his lips brushing against Snotlout’s, “I promise that I will come back to you,”

Another kiss is shared between them, sealing the oath that Eret has made and therefore making it unbreakable. Eret will return, he has to, and Ruff doesn’t know what will happen if he doesn’t. Something tragic, something unbearable to watch, something she can’t allow to happen. She will not see Snotlout ruined again. So, she promises herself that if Eret does not return, she’ll fly herself up to Valhalla, drag him back to Berk and the Gods best keep themselves to themselves and not get in the way of her mission, lest the know the true wrath of a Thorston woman.

“Come on, before Hiccup starts a search party,” Snotlout says, voice stronger now that the promise of returning has been made, “Selkie’s gonna want a proper goodbye too or she’s gonna follow you the whole way,”

Eret nods in agreement and peeks his head out of the alleyway, looking up and down the street in search of any unwanted bystanders. In the sunlight, his eyes glitter amber and Ruffnut can make out his hand, large and golden, curled around Snotlout’s.

“You sure you can handle her? I know that-”

“Gods, Eret, she’s the timidest Thunderdrum I’ve ever seen! If I can handle Hookfang and a borderline psychotic Terror, among other things, then she’s going to be a piece of cake,” He reassures, almost sounding offended, and Eret chuckles softly as he gives Snotlout a fond look.

Ruff watches them step out from the alley into the sunlit street, hands no longer intertwined. She can make out the red flush on Snotlout’s cheeks and the faint wetness beneath his eyes, which he wipes away hastily. The two of them share a look, secret and quiet, lips curled into gentle smiles, fingers twitching with the longing to touch. Then, as sudden as lightning, the tender-faces fall away and they leave, together but still somehow so far apart. They enter the real world not as lovers, but as friends, as a secret waiting to reveal itself.

For a few moments, she stays where she is, staring into the unlikely place of a secret lovers’ farewell. Who knew that a place like this, small and dark, would hold such a tragic and beautiful moment? Ruffnut feels a mixture of emotions, the biggest one being happiness because bless the Gods, Snotlout has found love and if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

At the after ceremony of Hiccup and Astrid’s wedding a year back, a drunk Snotlout had suddenly embraced her tight and long and said; I’m gonna be alone forever, Ruffy, but that’s okay, I got you guys, so… I not really alone. And being just as drunk as he was, she’d laughed and poured him another drink, dancing with him till the sun came to steal the night. She didn’t remember what he said till a few days after and it had filled up with such a fierce and sudden sadness that Tuffnut had dragged her home, demanding an explanation for the terrible look in her eyes.

That’s the thing with a twin like Tuff, the second her mood changes, he can sense it like a hunting dog catching the scent of blood. She can do it too, but Tuff has never been one to hide his true feelings while she, similar to Snotlout, would rather avoid the conflict of talking sentiments (even with Tuff). Her brother has to drag it out of her most times, corner her and say stupidly melancholic stuff like;

I can smell it, sister. You’re sad.

Tuffnut is a curse and blessing all at once and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

But anyway, she’s overjoyed to see Snotlout in love and loved, but she’s also anxious about it. Anxious in a way an older sibling is over a younger sibling when they start to dabble in dangerous things, in things that can get them hurt. And if love is anything, it’s dangerous. If love can do anything, it can get you hurt.

Snotlout has been hurt enough. Snotlout has endured and lived through torture and torment, through betrayal and loss, through things she can’t imagine surviving. She will not see him hurt again, not by Eret, not by love, not by anything. He doesn’t deserve it.

The others will also share her feelings when they discover this secret love story, that she is sure of. Especially Hiccup, who in the past few years has become like an older brother to Snotlout (like the same way that Stoick has become a father to him, the same way Valka has become a mother to him). He takes his new sibling occupation very seriously and it is comical, the wiser brother and the reckless brother always at odds but always there to protect each other.

There’s a headache brewing in her temple. Gods, she’s been thinking and overthinking again.

It’ll be fine, she reassures herself, stepping away from the alley and making towards the docks, the Gods wouldn’t curse them all with more bad fortune, would they?

It’s probably the most stupid question she’s ever thought, in hindsight.

When she gets to the docks, it’s jam-packed with dragons and Vikings alike, friends and family saying farewell to the crew and wishing them good fortune on their journey. The sky is clear and blue, perfect for sailing, and Ruff concludes that she wasn’t the only one begging Thor to keep his storms to himself.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to Tuffnut, dangling upside down from Belch’s neck as he converses with a bemused Fishlegs. She’s tempted to go over, but not yet, she has to do something first.

She quickly surveys the area, seeing one of the Berkian members of Eret’s crew giving his vermilion Nadder a thorough farewell and a Northman kissing his Shield-maiden fiancé goodbye.

The Northmen, Eret included, were intrigued to see such wild and free women when they first came to Berk. Berkian women are hearty and frightening and hard to impress, daughters of wolves, bearers of warriors, the fiercest things on the battlefield.

So it had been a cultural shock to them, Eret had admitted one day, for their home only holds women who sew the clothes and make the food, who bear the children and tend to the house, who are quiet and timid and easily won over by a half-assed sonnet. Most marriages are arranged and many daughters are traded for land or gold, true love is a rarity to come by. Eret is proud of his home, but these are the parts he is ashamed of.

Astrid was the first woman Eret had ever seen to hold a weapon and he’d never met a woman as savage as Ruffnut before. Ruff will forever be proud that she was Eret’s first taste of wildness.

There. She’s found who she’s looking for.

Eret kneels on one knee before Selkie, his beauty of Thunderdrum. She’s orange like a sunset, pale and washed-out, with white flecks scattering her hide like parted clouds, matching her ivory belly, and Ruffnut has never seen a dragon with eyes that blue before. Selkie lets out an unhappy groan as she presses her face further into Eret’s hand, eyes low in her grief as she listens to his whispers. Ruffnut can’t make out what he’s saying, but she’s sure it’s everything soft and reassuring.

Snotlout is close by, she notices, watching Eret with an open fondness. If Hiccup or Astrid walked by right now and took notice of the raw love in Snotlout’s gaze, they would immediately know the truth. Clearly, she isn’t the only one thinking this because Hookfang, stood beside his rider, nudges Snotlout with a warning hiss in the back of his throat. Never let it be said that Hookfang doesn’t look out for Snotlout, he’s ornery and easily distracted, but he makes up for it all with his loyalty.

Soon enough, the ship is ready and it’s time to go. People gather along the docks and make their last hurried farewells. The drums begin and the chants of fortune echo across the waters, there’s an intoxicating atmosphere permeating the air. Ruffnut hurries through the crowd, easily shoving unmoving folk to the deck in her haste because she has yet to speak with Eret. He’s shaking hands with Chief Stoick and is about to go up the gang walk when she suddenly lunges herself at him.

“Ruffnut!” He gasps, surprised and clearly a bit uncomfortable, but he’ll have to deal with her for the moment, “Thought you weren’t going to- uh- show,”

“Course I was, idiot, and anyways-” She leans her head close to his ear and wraps a hand around his bicep, digging her sharp nails into his flesh threateningly as she whispers, “-I have to remind you to keep to that promise, Eret, son of Eret, I’m not going to have Snotlout hurt again. I was robbed of my revenge last time, I won’t be again,”

When she pulls back, she flashes him a smile with too many teeth and bats her lashes with an intimidating gleam in her eyes. She’s given this look to men who are now dead and it is Eret’s choice if he wishes to be added to that mass grave. Eret stares back at her with shocked eyes, cheeks slightly red, and he clenches his jaw as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand over the raised welts on his bicep. The drums echo across the water and the chanting voices chase after in earnest. After a bewildering moment, Eret gives her an awkward but thankful smile and nods his head in understanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He says and all the tension in his muscles seem to slip away as Ruffnut softens her menacing gaze on him, clapping him boisterously on the already injured shoulder.

“Atta boy,” She cackles, shoving him up the gang walk as she calls after him, a throaty laugh colouring her words, “You better be back in two weeks, you son of an Eret, or I’m coming after you!”

To her delight, she hears him laugh back at her.

The ship finally departs from the dock, sail high and proud as its pushed by the encouraging wind and the waves part smoothly as the bow cuts through the water, sure and steady. Some of the crew hang off the ratlines, saying goodbye to Berk (for now), and Eret stands, tall and almost warrior-like, on the stern. The salt-touched wind carries his dark hair and the sun reflects off his dark eyes, they glitter with a sadness that Ruffnut wouldn’t have noticed if she didn’t know the things she knew. His smile is melancholic, Gods, he already looks homesick. He’s looking at someone and she already knows who.

Turning to look at Snotlout, she can see that his hands are balled up into white-knuckled fists, that his smile is forced and pained, that his eyes shimmer with tears.

Snotlout has always hated goodbyes. Especially ones that aren’t supposed to last. Because they always do.