Allrighty everybody, 'nuther batch up. I'm quite fond of these five, personally, even if the last three range from slight angst to angst party, but oh well. #112 has been suggested to me by about seven people over the course of this series, and I finally got around to wrighting it; #113 was springboarded off of a oneshot idea from DOTB18, and #114 was a one-word prompt from LadyNyoko. As always, I got some great ideas from you guys on the last chapter, and even if I didn't use them all here they'll probably show up sooner or later, so don't think I don't appreciate all the prompts and requests you guys give me. Keep 'em coming! Enjoy.

~.~

112. Snack

"Toothless! Spit him out. Now."

The dragon growled and turned in an agitated circle. But this was his lunch!

"I mean it, Toothless. Spit out, uh . . ."

Hiccup looked to the old Viking woman who was glaring them both down. "Berczynskas," she snarled at them.

"Spit out Bercful-something-or-other," Hiccup demanded. "C'mon, bud, give him back."

Toothless sat down and scowled.

Hiccup sighed. "Please, Toothless, would you spit out Berx—Berczy. . .Berciffle for me?"

"Berczynskas!" the woman yelled at him.

"What she said! Spit him out!"

Oh, fine. Toothless focused for a minute, stalling for as long as he could before opening his mouth, whereupon a soggy, regurgitated, and still slightly twitching cat fell out onto the grass.

"You swallowed him?" Hiccup asked at the same time the old woman lunged forward with a cry of "Berczynskas!" and scooped up the wretched creature. She then whirled on Hiccup and started to give him a piece of her mind about keeping "monstrous scaly beasts as pets" and having "all manner of nasty overgrown reptiles wandering around" while Toothless stared longingly at the half-dead cat in her arms, licking his lips.

Fish may have been his main diet, but he was a carnivore at heart. Much to the terror and disgust of the creepy old cat-ladies.

113. Tangled

"You know what?" Fishlegs said. "I'm not even going to ask."

It seemed to Toothless that not asking was probably a good idea. Whether it had been a physical fight between the two or something far less hostile, he couldn't tell, but somehow or another Astrid and Hiccup had gotten fantastically tangled up around one another. Astrid was now using the handle of her ax to lever herself into a standing position, but was having some trouble due to the fact that she first had to kick herself free from Hiccup, who looked like he was in pain.

"Good," Astrid snapped, nailing Hiccup in the ribs with the heel of her boot.

"I'm not entirely sure how it happened, anyway," Hiccup gasped, clutching his side.

"Oh, yeah, I bet," Ruffnut said sarcastically, and Toothless snorted and rolled his eyes. "Seriously, can't we leave the two of you alone for ten minutes?"

Snotlout snickered. "Not at the rate they're going."

"Oh, shut up," Astrid said.

114. Thorn

Toothless has decided that Astrid is a rose.

Some might consider it odd, comparing the violent, ax-swinging, Viking girl to a flower of all things, but that's only because they don't know her well enough. Toothless does, though—he knows how, like the red rose, she may radiate confidence and symbolism, but she is fragile underneath; Like a rose's petals, her self-confidence can be plucked and shredded no matter how strong she appears to be. But nor is she defenseless, for with her beauty and hidden weaknesses comes the bite—the rose's thorns.

She is complex, Toothless knows, and it is her thorns that give her that subtle harsh edge that goes beyond her natural Viking traits, so that when her petals have been ripped away, all that remains is the unpleasant final defense. The dragon has also realized that this is why her relationship with Hiccup can be anywhere from strained to hopeless—the boy's ideas, his theories and beliefs and oddities, challenge everything she has ever known and therefore herself, stripping away the petals and leaving the thorns that make her difficult and defensive.

Perhaps, the dragon thinks, if these thorns were not there and Astrid could let the wall come down, give up the fight when it becomes a lost cause, she would not damage herself and those who are close to her. But she is a rose. She is beautiful and strong on the outside, fragile beneath, and deep down, in a place that is rarely brought to the light, she is destructive and dangerous and angry.

And this, Toothless knows, will be her downfall.

115. Unintended

"He always loved you more," Stoick said quietly. "I was never his father. Not really. It was always you."

Gobber didn't look up from his forge. "Nah. Hiccup never wanted to be like me. You were always his role model, even if you were too blinded by his oddities to see it."

"Don't give me that," Stoick snarled. "I know it's my fault. But maybe it's for the best. Look at how he turned out—a bigger hero as a lad than I'll ever be, and it's because you raised him right."

Toothless, who was listening in on the conversation, couldn't help but feel bad for the Viking chief. From what he had been told, it was entirely true; Gobber and Hiccup were shockingly alike, from their missing limbs and sarcasm to their talent at the forge to their belief in trolls, and it was Gobber who had mentored and raised the boy while Stoick mostly watched from a distance. And even if Hiccup had idolized his father as a child, it was always Gobber who he had bonded with.

The blacksmith put down his hammer. "I didn't intend for it to happen like that," he told his friend truthfully.

Stoick the Vast looked sad. "I know. But I'm glad it did."

116. Remember

They were fighting for their lives.

Toothless knew. It was Berk's last stand. The village had been besieged and taken in a matter of days, and most either lay dead on the ground or had fled into the forest hours ago—except for them. It was Toothless and an odd assortment of dragons, few in number, with Stoick and Gobber, Ruffnut, Astrid, Fishlegs, Hiccup, and a few other brave and loyal Vikings willing to give their lives for Berk. There were only about thirty of them in all though, a mere fraction of the enemy force that had overtaken the village, old Viking rivals from even further North than Berk.

And the last little resistance that Berk had left was weakening. Toothless could feel the strength and spirit draining from his friends as they struggled to hold on to the last few yards of the village. They had already lost so much of everything: blood, energy, and friends—Snotlout among them—and their home was going to be the next to go.

Ruffnut was having trouble. She was bleeding profusely and had been maneuvered away from her allies. Toothless was struggling to get to her, but he could already tell that he was going to be too late—she had been backed into a corner by her opponent and was weak to the point where she could barely block his blows.

The young man she was fighting lunged forward, and she managed to block his spear with her own only once before he sent her spinning with a blow with his shield that Toothless thought was sure to knock her out. It nearly did, and the dragon saw with horror that the only thing keeping her standing on both feet was the man's spear at her throat.

It was then that he realized who she was fighting.

Tuffnut's eyes narrowed. He removed his spearhead from his sister's neck, and she slid to the ground, her chest heaving in pain but her gaze on Tuffnut's face.

"I remember you," he whispered. "You're Ruffnut."

"Aye," she said quietly. "But who are you?"

Tuffnut stared at her. "I don't remember."

Ruffnut stared back. "I do."