Discover Top Posts Tagged with #httyd chicken

The gang saying ‘the chicken is not amused’ all the time after any minor inconvenience cause it’s a funny little inside joke but they say it so much that they forget other people have no fucking clue what they’re talking about

So when Ryker holds Hiccup at knife and he just says ‘the chicken is not amused with this Ryker’ he’s so stunned that Hiccup manages to escape

#Ryker’s lowkey thinking about quitting his job #Pre-redemption Dagur probably would’ve thought it was so sorta code #rawr :3 #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon race to the edge #httyd #httyd rtte #rtte #httyd race to the edge #httyd ryker #httyd hiccup #httyd chicken

The scent of antiseptic and old blood clung to Hiccup like a second skin. Her hands, scrubbed raw, still felt stained. Viggo Grimborn, the man who had been her nemesis, her manipulator, and almost her killer, was lying under her favorite comforter, breathing in shallow, ragged gasps. The bullet wound in his side was crudely bandaged, the best she could do with her limited first-aid knowledge. Toothless had left minutes ago, a black shadow streaking through the twilight to fetch Gothi, the only doctor in their small town of Berk who wouldn't ask too many questions.

As Hiccup punched her friends’ numbers into her father’s old cord phone, a wave of nausea rolled over her. This was a terrible idea. Bringing Viggo here was insane. But leaving him to die in that warehouse, after he’d tried to save her… she couldn’t do it. Her conscience, that stubborn, infuriating thing, wouldn't let her.

She barely finished her last text when the front door didn’t so much open as explode inward, splintering from its frame.

“Viggo! Where are you!” The roar was pure Snotlout, fueled by testosterone and misplaced protective rage.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice followed, sharp with concern.

Hiccup stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, her heart sinking into her stomach. She froze under the horrified gazes of her friends. In the adrenaline-fueled chaos of patching up Viggo and sending for help, she’d completely forgotten about her own appearance. She was soaked. Her green flannel shirt was a dark, rusty crimson from the collar down, her jeans were stiff with drying blood, and a smear of it was drying on her cheek.

To them, it wasn't Viggo’s blood. It was hers.

“Oh, gods, Hiccup,” Astrid whispered, her blue eyes wide with shock as she rushed forward.

“He did this to you?” Snotlout’s face contorted into a mask of fury. “Where is he? I’m going to end him!”

“No, Snotlout, you don’t understand—” Hiccup started, holding up her hands.

“We’ll get him, Hic! Don’t you worry!” Tuffnut declared, a manic glint in his eye.

“Yeah! We’ll tie him up and let Barf exhale all over him until he begs for mercy!” Ruffnut added, cracking her knuckles.

“Where. Is. He?” Snotlout demanded, his voice dangerously low.

“He’s… in my room, but you have to listen—”

That was all they needed. They didn’t hear the rest. Snotlout and the twins thundered past her, taking the stairs two at a time, a stampede of vengeful morons.

“Guys, wait!” Hiccup yelled, trying to follow, but a firm hand on each arm stopped her. Astrid and Fishlegs were anchoring her in place, their faces a mixture of panic and grim determination.

“Sit down,” Astrid commanded, her voice gentle but firm as she steered Hiccup toward the living room couch. “Fishlegs, check her over. I need to see the damage.”

“I’m not hurt! It’s not my blood!” Hiccup insisted, struggling against their grip. “You’re going to kill him!” Which, she admitted to a small, dark part of herself, might not be the worst thing, but he was unconscious and Gothi was on her way. It felt… unsporting.

A resounding crash echoed from upstairs, the unmistakable sound of a door being torn from its hinges. Her door. Did revenge make them forget how to use doorknobs? she thought hysterically.

Then came the shattering of glass. Her window. That was followed by a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the floorboards. Hookfang. Snotlout must have called him.

The worst was yet to come. A tremendous, splintering crash from directly above, followed by the sound of plaster and wood raining down. Barf and Belch. They had come in through the roof. Hiccup closed her eyes, praying a support beam hadn’t landed on the very man she was trying to save.

Astrid stared at the ceiling, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “Idiots.”

“Um, Hiccup,” Fishlegs asked, his voice trembling as he nervously patted her arm, still looking for a non-existent wound. “Does your father have insurance? Like, really, really good insurance?”

“Fishlegs, stay with her,” Astrid ordered, her expression turning thunderous. She stormed toward the stairs, presumably to yell at Snotlout and the twins before finishing their intended job herself.

Left with Hiccup, Fishlegs’ panic tripled. “Okay. Okay. Don’t worry. I’m calling for help.” He fumbled for his phone, his thumb jabbing at the screen. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” he squeaked into the phone. “Yes, hello! My friend needs an ambulance! She’s… she’s covered in blood! An intruder? Well, yes, but she sort of invited the intruder… but my other friends think he’s an intruder and they… uh… they caused a… a large, structural incident. No, no dragons, why would you even ask that?!”

Seeing her chance, Hiccup bolted. She sprinted past the flustered Fishlegs and took the stairs, his panicked cries of “Hiccup, wait! The paramedics are on their way!” fading behind her.

The scene that greeted her was so utterly bizarre, it almost felt like a fever dream.

The first thing she saw was the hole in her ceiling, a jagged maw of splintered wood and dangling insulation. Her bedroom door was in three pieces on the hallway floor. Her window was a spiderweb of broken glass.

In the middle of the wreckage stood Astrid, hands on her hips, lecturing Snotlout, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut like they were toddlers who had just finger-painted the walls with jam. Their dragons, Hookfang and Barf and Belch, were crammed into the room, looking thoroughly chastised under Astrid’s glare.

“I was just trying to protect my cousin!” Snotlout defended himself, gesturing wildly toward the bed.

The twins, completely ignoring Astrid, were huddled near the bed, deep in their own argument.

“No, no, we douse him in fish oil first, then we introduce Chicken,” Tuffnut insisted. “It adds a layer of psychological terror.”

“It’s a waste of good fish oil!” Ruffnut shot back. “We just let Chicken peck his eyes out. Simple. Elegant.”

Hiccup’s gaze drifted to the bed. There, lying still and blissfully unconscious amidst the chaos, was Viggo. And sitting serenely on the pillow right next to his head, occasionally letting out a soft cluck, was Chicken, Tuffnut’s beloved, inexplicably calm pet.

Hiccup stared. At the hole in her roof. At her furious best friend. At her idiotic cousin and the chaotic twins. At the giant dragons crammed into her bedroom. At the would-be murderer in her bed. And at the chicken standing guard.

Her shoulders slumped. A long, weary sigh escaped her lips. This was her life now. Of course, this was her life.