russetleaves asked:

Jack and Astrid fawning over Punzie and Hiccup? :)

Karina Answer:


aka the time Astrid and Jack discover they are both homos


I fucking love the movement in this scene. It’s so well done. You can see hiccup’s not consciously moving his hands. He’s doing it without thinking. It’s amazing that you can tell the difference between that and fully conscious movement in an animation. It’s hard enough to tell in real life. The acting in this scene is not forced. It’s not over the top. It’s just right. and it’s not even a real actor. I just… I’m so impressed.

(Source: fankakm, via effyeahhiccstrid)

Anonymous asked:

195 with jarida sounds funny

Karina Answer:

#195 [he can’t rhyme]
an: i totally had a half-angsty idea for this, but since you’re requesting humour. hm. let’s see.

Man doesn’t rhyme with pain, ye idiot.” Is what she says, the first time they discover he can’t rhyme. He goes on for three days straight going over Sylvia Plath and E. E. Cummings just to get it right, just to understand, because he reads somewhere that if you word it right, you can change the world.

(He doesn’t need to change the world. He just needs Merida to stop laughing at him whenever she’s reminded of the crappy poem he wrote. It’s embarrassing okay.)

((Never mind that he thinks her laughter is really cute.))

He doesn’t change the world. In fact, the whole universe goes on as it always does and then comes a day when he’s trying to write again and he’s asking her and she’s giving him this one very dry look and says, “No, Jackson.” She’s mocking him now, he knows; he frowns. “Town doesn’t rhyme with yawn. Which one of us is American anyway?”

He rolls his eyes and throws her his pencil. She snorts when it falls on her laps, rolling over.

He doesn’t mind it that he’s not very good at rhyming.

(If it’ll make her smile.)

He’s trying to make her laugh the next time he’s rhyming things again (which is ridiculous) because she’s crying there with one high heel broken and dress dirtied up and hair’s jumbling together and an unsuccessful date ready to be written bad across a page of a diary and he really hates to see her that way so he says, “Eccentric doesn’t really go with plastic, does it?”

She chuckles sadly through the tears and mumbles at him to take her home. He does.

The last time he’s supposed to rhyme, he doesn’t.

He’s drunk and she’s blurry but she’s there and she’s real and he doesn’t think he’s ever been into this thing too deep so he says, “I don’t need to know… I mean, know how to rhyme, Princess.” He hiccups and chuckles, leaning against her as she tries to stable him, murmuring out comforting ‘okay’s. “Saying I love you doesn’t need rhyming, you get me?”

"What?" She splutters out, and suddenly, the blue in her eyes are too much.

He grins, lurches a little. “I said—” He tries again, swaying a bit. “I love you!”

He vomits on her feet next, really dramatically. He’s a little pathetic, he knows, but he changes the world that night. At least their world.

He thinks they’re going to be okay.

Because she’s not moving away when morning rises, and she makes him tea when he wakes up and doesn’t mention it even when she should. He brings it up though, and watch how words change the world again.

(Whatever. Like Sylvia Plath rhymes that much anyway. Scoffs.)