Set before Hiccup found Toothless

Warnings:

-Some light strong word choices *ahem* cussing *ahem*

-A badass, screamo, angst ridden Hiccup

His screams could probably be heard all through out Berk, yet he couldn't have cared less if anybody had heard him. He was too angry to care. Hel he couldn't have cared what anybody else thought of him right then. Whether his screaming was called weak or feminine, at that moment, he just did not care. He thought that it was pretty. fucking. awesome.

Hiccup had never felt proud of his voice before, being the exact opposite of a manly viking, so was his voice. When he screamed, most likely because he was being chased by a dragon or scared by Snotlout, it would crack up an octave or two. His voice was one of the many characteristics of his that Snotlout and his gang of viking jerks (as Hiccup enjoyed calling them in his head- besides Astrid of course!) made fun of on a regular basis.

Sometimes, if they didn't have anything better to do, Snotlout and the twins would follow Hiccup around, pinching their noses and trying to copy his nasally voice. Acting out a play where he was saying sad things to his father about his weak physique. Things that he had never said.

In fact, Hiccup and his father would never actually speak about Hiccup's weak body. If their conversations did take that turn, then his father would just gesture at Hiccup with his large viking hands and say, "...this," as though actually talking about Hiccup's boney body would bring bad luck. And that was what Hiccup was in his father's eyes, a "this," a disappointment.

Hiccup often wondered that if he were born somewhere else, somewhere far away from Berk's freezing winters, that perhaps it was acceptable for a thirteen year old boy to be a Hiccup. Stick limbs, cracked voice, and all. Perhaps, there was a place where it was expected for boys to be Hiccups, where it was normal to be small and clumsy. Perhaps there was a place where they actually trained their hiccups how to fight, how to use their small stature as a weapon against bigger and fiercer foes.

But he wasn't born at the magical somewhere else. He was born on Berk, and worst of all, he was born the son of the Chief of Berk. Of course.

As though it wasn't enough that he was Berk's runt, he was also a disappointment as he didn't exceed the expectations as a future chief of Berk. If Hiccup had been born in a better world, then he would have been an exact replica of Stoick the Vast. He would have been tall, and beefed up with muscle. He would have been able to pop dragon heads by his shoulders and split rocks in half with his face. He would have made his father proud, and he would have been the hero of the village.

But he wasn't, and he cursed whichever one of the Gods decided to torment Hiccup by imprisoning him in this runt body. He was so desperate to prove himself worthy to his father, but it never worked. It could never work, not ever. Not when every single stupid viking reminded Hiccup, and his father, nearly everyday what Hiccup was. A Hiccup.

The village hadn't always been this way towards Hiccup, there was a time when Hiccup loved and cherished everyone in the village, and everyone in the village cherished him back. There was even a time when he was a small child that he was considered the cutest Viking on the island, and he would receive coos and words of a promising Viking future, filled with honor and leadership. But then again, those were happier times. Those were times when Hiccup had a perfect family, not the dysfunctional one he had now with his father.

It was around that time that the village saw him for what he really was; weak. And that was also the moment that the village spoke out their disappointment in Hiccup's weak physique. It was odd, he can still remember when he got the very first jeer. Before then, he knew that he was a bit different from the rest, but he was still favored and loved by the village. The other vikings would smile down at Hiccup and give him an adoring pat on the head.

So he couldn't blame himself when he felt his breath catch in his throat, his legs frozen in place, when he got that first snide remark.

"Fishbones," they said in a condescending deep voice.

He spun around, facing the center of the village. There were too many of them, he couldn't tell which one had made the comment, and he wasn't the only person who had heard it either. Nearly half of the village had heard it, and by the end of the day, every Viking on the island knew about it. When he turned around to see his transgressor, he only saw several stares, mouths agape, watching Hiccup's reaction. What would the Viking Chief's son do? Let's just say that what he did, disappointed the village immensely. It wasn't like he could have helped his reaction, he was only seven years old.

"Who said that?" he said, his voice cracked under the strain it took for him to keep his eyes from watering. Nobody answered him, and Hiccup could see each of their faces, watching him. Some in pity, others in disappointment, a few were in rage. Tribesmen like Gobber, his Uncle Spitelout, his Father, and a few other shield maidens were openly angry over the comment. If there was anybody else who was upset about it, Hiccup hadn't noticed.

It happened, and that was that. That was the very first word, Fishbone.

Afterwards, whenever Hiccup was with Stoick during any of the public functions, be it Snoggletog, the Yule feast, or the Summer Solstice, more and more Vikings began to haggle Stoick about Hiccup's size.

"Where is the meat on his bones?" they would say gripping Hiccup's twig arms and waving them in Stoick's face, as if Stoick had never seen what his son's arms looked like.

"By the time my son was his age, he could chop down a tree!"

"My daughter can lift better than he can!"

The comments went on like this, it was as though that first offensive word, "Fishbones," had broken a spell that had rested over the eyes of all the villagers. Now that it was broken, they could finally see Hiccup for the first time. At first, Stoick just put up with it, making excuses or making jokes about the Haddock genes and sometimes flat out ignoring the worst of their comments regarding Hiccup.

But it was only a matter of time. Hiccup could see his father's resolute eyes chip away at each comment made towards Hiccup's weak body, and all of the other weak attributes that they had noticed later on.

It was during the Yule Feast, the midwinter solstice, when the one comment nobody dared say in front of the chief, was spoken, that changed everything.

"How could a-a hiccup like this lead our village?"

And that was that. Instantly, Hiccup saw the last fleck of support in his father's eyes vanish. Forever. The celebratory bonfire that was supposed to bring laughter and dance, only revealing the last bit of hope in his father's green eyes disappear. The same hope that Stoick carried when he saw his son, that his son would one day become a great man, the hope that Hiccup drew strength from when he was about to face a new day of jabs and jeers. Gone. Just like that.

Hiccup was now alone.

It was then that Hiccup ran, he ran far away from the field where that deceitful fire was and into Berk's forest. He kept running, farther and farther away, he ran past Raven's point, through the forest, and passed a pebbled beach. He hadn't even tripped on anything that lay on the ground, he was running too fast. When he couldn't run anymore, it was because Hiccup had reached a rocky cliff face, and even then he didn't stop. He climbed up the face of that cliff. His nimble fingers gripping small crevices that thick beefy fingers could not.

He didn't stop until he reached the top of the cliff, never once looking down at the startlingly distant pebbled beach. When he did reach the top, he stood on it with pride, his breathing rasped against his throat with every intake of freezing air. He looked out to his left, where the uninhabited portion of the island was, covered in pine trees and boulders. Behind him was the tall mountain that reached into the heavens, obviously a place only known by the Gods.

Then he switched, looking over his shoulder at his village of Berk. The golden fires from the celebration twinkling like stars. He was surprised that he had ran that far, the view over the village looked like a view the Gods had when they watched over them for entertainment. In fact, Hiccup would have thought that he died and was looking down from Valhalla were it not for the cold winter air, that almost froze the sweat on his skin, and the hard ground under his feet.

It was then, as he watched the now tiny village, that Hiccup felt something completely foreign to him. It crept up his trembling fingers, making them clench into trembling fists, up his sweaty arms and weighing down his boney shoulders. Hiccup didn't know what the feeling was until he felt it fall straight down to the depths of his stomach, growling and burning his insides. Hiccup was angry.

There were plenty of times that Hiccup felt mad or irritated at something or someone, but never had he felt anything quite like this. This was a white hot fury that burned and growled, a fiery dragon that scorched Hiccup's stomach. How could they? How could they celebrate and dance after saying such horrible things about him. They would talk about him as though he weren't even there. They turned him into a disappointment, they did it, not him. They told him that he couldn't ever possibly kill a dragon. They told him that he was too weak to lift anything. He gave nothing to prove that he perhaps had the strength in him.

They were too quick to judge him. Perhaps he is just slower at growing than the other boys his age? But they never even had such a thought, they are Vikings, and Vikings are stupid, stubborn, bullheaded people who never bother to wait. From up here they all looked so small and puny, why did the Gods even bother with these people? Perhaps they don't. Perhaps they just sit there on their Rainbow Bridge watching and laughing at their insignificance.

Suddenly, Hiccup felt the growling fury in his stomach lurch upwards. It clawed and jumped out of his throat and projected into a terrible shriek. It started out as a low growling sound, before suddenly jumping up the octave that Hiccup's pubescent voice always cracked at. It was the coolest sound Hiccup ever heard himself make. He heard his screaming roar bounce down the cliff face and over the forest. Succeeding in scaring some bats from where they had hung in the trees, shrieking in surprise. The scream was so terrible, it sounded as though it were born from Hel itself.

Hiccup was completely and totally surprised (possibly a little frightened) at the sound he had made. For a second he whipped his head around, making sure there wasn't a dragon behind him that had tricked Hiccup into believing it was his voice. But there wasn't a single dragon in sight. His scream wasn't at all like his normal screams of fear or panic that he usually made. No, this scream was the most manly sound Hiccup had ever made. Albeit an un-viking sound, it was still terrifyingly furious, and Hiccup suddenly laughed. He wasn't as pathetic as he thought, and for the first time he felt pride in his voice.

He took a breath, letting the cold air shred the inside of his neck, before letting that growling fury claw back up his throat, making a low gurgling grumble that sounded similar to his first scream, the sound he made just before it broke up an octave. He then let his voice crack and heard the grumble jump in pitch. It sounded almost as though it were two different voices in one.

Hiccup knew that if any of the vikings in his tribe saw him making such angry noises that they would have thought he were possessed by the devil, or that a dragon had slithered down Hiccup's throat, now trapped inside the small boy's body.

Even though it sounded so terrible, Hiccup enjoyed it fully. In the light of the moonlight he stayed up on the ledge of that cliff, growling out his frustrations to know one but himself. He growled out words that garbled and sounded barely recognizable as his Norse language at all. He practiced with his new found talent until he had rubbed his throat raw, and even after that he continued to do it, just a little bit softer than before.

Astrid swung her new ax over her shoulder as she stomped on the pine needles of Berk's forest floors. This was the strangest winter Berk had ever seen this year. There were no blizzards, and no snow, which was completely unbelievable. Berk was known for it's raging blizzards that locked everyone into their homes for almost the entire course of their winter.

The closest that Berk got to ice was when the beach had frozen and when the village's source of drinking water had turned to ice in the early hours of the morning. The only evidence that it was winter on Berk was the snow capped mountain, frigid winds, and the freezing rain that only lasted a few days. An odd winter indeed.

Astrid's mother told her that this winter was a blessing from the Gods. That it was something to be thankful for, and that was why they decided to have the Yule feast outside in the field of dead grass just behind the Chief's house. Astrid only stayed for the beginning of the feast, scarfing down her pork with the other viking teenagers. There was some drama over the village runt, Hiccup, who had run from the festivities over some stupid comment, what a coward. When the dancing started, Astrid backed out. Slipping from her mother's watch, and into the forest.

Astrid didn't care about festivities over something as stupid as a passive winter. She needed to use that time to train, there could be a dragon raid at anytime, and she didn't need to become a sloppy drunk while houses burned to the ground and sheep were stolen.

She stopped just before Raven's point and picked a good tree to swing her ax at. She walked backwards from her tree of choice, counting her paces away from the tree. Then letting out a breath she crouched down, her ax poised over her shoulder, and then she swung, flinging her ax straight at her target. Just before her ax embedded itself into wood and tree sap, she heard it, the most horrific sound she had ever heard. The sound obviously came from the mountainous area of the island, as the sound echoed before dissipating into silence.

Suddenly, bats came seemingly out of nowhere, shrieking before flying right into her. She yelped, putting her arms above her head to protect herself from the barrage of bats. As soon as the bats passed, finding a new place to eat bugs, she somersault dived for her ax. After pulling it out of her once target, she crouched down as low as her thighs would let her without stinging in pain.

Then she heard it again, but this time it was lower, deeper before suddenly springing up in pitch, and she began to follow it. She couldn't possibly figure what this sound could possibly be coming from. It wasn't a dragon, that is if it was then perhaps it was a dragon she had never seen before. Astrid began listing all the different dragons she had read about in the Dragon Manual, tallying out what dragon it could possibly be.

Perhaps it was a Whispering Death? No, it couldn't be, the ground wasn't rumbling, the sounds she was hearing didn't sound like whispers either. So she quickly banned that thought out of her head. The sound wasn't a Thunderdrum either, it wasn't even close enough to be considered sonic worthy of a Thunderdrum's screams. Perhaps it was an injured dragon? Maybe it was a completely new dragon!

Astrid continued through the forest following the low grumbling shrieks and stealthily avoiding twigs or rocks she could trip over. She followed the growling voice, although it seemed to have gotten a little quieter she could tell that she was getting closer to it as there were fewer and fewer echoes.

If Astrid heard the screaming growls form into what sounded like angry words, she ignored it. Her only goal was to identify this creature and report it back to her Chief as stealthily and fast as possible.

She continued through the trees, she knew she was approaching the other side of the forest when the trees began to thin, becoming fewer and farther between, making it harder for her to stay hidden. As she got closer to the sounds, she had to make several somersaults to remain hidden behind the trees.

She knew she was close now, she was very very close. Although the screaming growls were quieter, the echoes that she had been following earlier had diminished. Whatever it was that had made such a noise was right in front of her. She dived behind a rock, resting her back on it, quickly trying to calm her racing heart. Slowly, she peeked over the boulder, but found that there was nothing there.

All she saw was a small stretch of beach, covered in round grey pebbles, that ended in front of a rocky cliff face.

She scanned the beach, making sure this beast didn't perhaps have a camouflage ability, before stepping out from behind the rock and onto the beach. She could still hear the growling screams, coming from somewhere. But whom ever it belonged to, was not on this beach.

She growled in frustration, swinging her ax, "NO!" she yelled, swinging her ax around.

Instantly, she regretted her outburst, because whatever had made those growling shrieks stopped, having heard her outburst. Ugh she was such an idiot! Of course it was in hearing rage of her voice! How could she have made such a terrible slip up.

She froze, wide eyed, as she gripped her ax with sweaty hands, she remained still as to not give away her location. In her stupid outburst she had stepped onto the pebbled beach, if she took one step the crunch of the pebbles would instantly give her away. On top of that she had abandoned her hiding spot behind the rock and she had no shield. Ugh, how could she have been such an idiot! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Astrid became deathly quiet, listening to her surroundings for any possible sign of a dragon. She stood there for what felt like hours, when suddenly she heard a rustling from the bushes that were somewhere behind her, nearby the rocks at the bottom of the cliff face. Did it find her? She was so quiet, she couldn't have possibly given away her location! But perhaps the dragon was smart enough to have located her from her very first outburst.

She heard the rustlings getting closer, and deciding that she would rather die seeing the face of her enemy, she spun around gripping her ax in a death grip.

But who came out of the shrubbery was the person she least expected to see: Hiccup, Stoick the Vast's runt of the village.

"A-Astrid?" he said in surprise, green eyes wide. His voice was raspy, but Astrid ignored it.

"Shut up, you Son of a Half-Troll idiot!" she harshly whispered at him, effectively getting him to shut up, "There is a dragon nearby!" she whispered again.

"What?" Hiccup's voice rasped stupidly, effectively getting Astrid to roll her eyes at him.

"Ugh!" she groaned giving up her position on the beach she dove at Hiccup, hiding them both in the bushes that he had just come out from. Originally she would have just ditched Hiccup like she wanted to, but even though he was a runt, he was also the Chief's son, earning him a shield of protection from her. He groaned from the impact, trying to get up from the bushes, but she grabbed his head and shoved it back down earning another groan from Hiccup.

"Will you shut up!" she shushed him, "I told you there is a dragon nearby, didn't you hear it?" she asked him, her tone definitely giving away the fact that she thought he was the biggest idiot she ever met.

"Hear what?" Hiccup rasped, earning him another head shove from Astrid, purely out of irritation.

"Are you a half-wit or something?" she said spitefully, normally she would just ignore him, but now he was in the way therefore she had every right to hurl insults. "There is a dragon near here, I heard it all the way out from Raven's point!" she whispered urgently, "It made these terrifying shrieking sounds, it was unlike any dragon I have ever heard!" she exclaimed, still whispering. Her blue eyes widening in fear at the thought of what this dragon could possibly look like if it made such horrible sounds.

When she explained the dragon's voice she could have sworn that she saw Hiccup's lips give a small smirk from the corner of her eye, but when she full on looked at him it was gone. Now that she noticed, he seemed to have had his own adventure as well, his sleeves were torn from snagging on branches, his cheeks were flushed from the cold air and also from possibly exerting himself, his face were also covered in small specks of mud and small scratches.

"Anyways," she continued, whispering urgently in his ear, "you heard the dragon too right? That's why you came here?" she noticed that before he replied, he swallowed wincing as his tiny adam's apple bobbed, he then looked at her, "Oh- uh yeah," he rasped in a whisper, "yup-yes that's why I'm here," he whispered, wincing again at his harsh voice.

Astrid didn't really care that he had a sore throat, she didn't particularly concern herself at all with what he did, he was the runt and if you gave a runt too much attention then they would just become spoiled. "Were you crying or something?" she asked, she didn't ask because she cared, she obviously didn't. No she asked out of disgusted surprise, Vikings don't cry, especially male vikings.

"No!," he rasped loudly, earning another head shove into the dirt from Astrid for his outburst, "Idiot! Didn't I tell you to shut up?" she whispered at him again. All she heard was a dirt muffled groan from Hiccup, which sounded like, a "why did you do that?". She then peeked up from the shrubs they were hiding in, quickly searching her surroundings for any sign of a dragon, she didn't see or hear anything. Maybe her outburst scared it away?

"Okay, I think it's gone," she whispered, lifting her hand off of Hiccups head, and stepping out of the shrubbery to get her ax that she dropped when she tackled Hiccup. She heard Hiccup get up out of the bushes again while she picked up her ax, "We have to go tell the village about what we heard," she said, making sure the blade of her ax hadn't chipped.

"No!" Hiccup sorely yelped at her, which prompted her another eye roll.

"Don't worry, I won't tell everyone that you were crying before you bumped into me," she said, gesturing each other with her ax.

"I wasn't-" Hiccup started with a blush.

"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off with another eye roll, "you weren't crying, I get it," she flipped her braid over her shoulder, turning to him, "look, if it would make you feel better, I'll go report the new dragon sound I heard, and you can sneak into the back of your house with out anybody finding out that you were crying," she said, cocking her hip.

"uh- thanks?" Hiccup said, his sarcastic humor difficult to hear over his sore throat.

"You're welcome," she said haughtily, "Now let's go, I don't want to be here when whatever made that noise comes back," she said grabbing Hiccup's shirt as she trudged confidently back into the forest.

They kept walking through the forest, but the entire time Astrid didn't let go of the front of Hiccup's shirt, they were already at Raven's point by the time Hiccup said anything about it.

"Uhhh, you can let go of my shirt now," his nasal voice scratching against his tiny adams apple.

"Seeing as right now I'm your babysitter, and knowing that if anything were to happen to you, then I would get in trouble by the chief," she trailed off with an eye roll, "Yeah, as if I'll let go of your shirt," she said pulling him ruffly, not stopping when he tripped over a root.

It wasn't as though Hiccup didn't mind it when Astrid grabbed his shirt and pulled him off into the forest. Actually, he was quite elated that she was even talking to him. He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to her, he vaguely remembered playing with her when they were totts, but that was about it.

In truth, Hiccup always liked Astrid. Perhaps it was because she was almost the only viking in the village that didn't comment on his weak attributes. Oh he knew that she agreed with the rest of the village, but at least she was wise enough to keep her thoughts about him to herself. That plus her glares told him all he needed to know. Her glares that usually said you-are-a-worthless-viking and how-dare-you-speak-to-me-you-worthless-mortal were strikingly gorgeous. Nobody could glare better than an Hofferson, and nobody their age could possibly glare better than Astrid Hofferson.

Being a viking, your social standing and toughness rate was definitely evaluated based on your glare. Hiccup's glare was horrendously weak. But Astrid Hofferson's glare could strike fear in grown men. To a viking like Hiccup, who couldn't even glare to save his life, Astrid's glare was the glare of the Gods. Oh but this didn't mean it didn't strike him with terror, because it scared him shitless.

They continued on through the trees, Astrid gripping Hiccup's shirt the entire way. He just knew his brown shirt would be stretched out and he would have to get a new one in the morning. She finally let him go when they reached the field, the large bonfire that had insulted Hiccup earlier was now a large crackle of burnt wood and embers, some drunk vikings were lying around groaning and snoring. The yule feast had obviously ended with a whisper instead of a bang.

She gave him one last beautiful sneer before running to her own home. He slowly walked over to his house, the Chief's house, and tried to sneak in through the back door. But his father's snores were not shaking the large house as Hiccup hoped they would. No, this time his father was poking at a fire that he had just started only minutes before he had walked in.

"Where have you been?" Stoick said in his deep viking voice, ringing out more in disappointment than worry. Stoick took one look at Hiccup and gave an exasperated sigh. Hiccup's shirt had definitely stretched, the neck now hung over one of his boney shoulders. His boots were covered in mud and pine needles, and his pants had a rip in the knee. That wasn't even the worst of it, Hiccup's hair was a ruffled mess, leaves and mud where stuck in it, Odin knew how long that would take to get out. And his face! His face was covered in tiny scratches from branches and spots of mud that almost disguised themselves as Hiccup's freckles.

Stoick gave another sigh of disappointment, he couldn't possibly take care of Hiccup when he came home like this, that was Val's job. "Go to your room, and wash up," he said turning back to the fire, "tomorrow we will get you some new clothes."

Hiccup climbed up the stairs to his room quickly, he climbed them like he always had, using his hands and feet to keep himself from tripping on the crude steps. He dashed into his room, instantly going over to his bucket of water, washed off his hands, face, and hair before sleeping in his rock hard bed.

Before, Stoick had thought it was cute when Hiccup had gone up the stairs like that, he looked like a little animal when he did it. But now that Hiccup was of the age that most boys spent throwing daggers and preparing themselves for dragon training, his four legged crawl up the stairs looked completely and totally un-viking.

Tonight, something had finally clicked with Stoick. But now that he looked back, perhaps he had always known, those obsessive searched for trolls and the lack of bloodthirsty killing for food, (that the other viking boys were more than excited to watch) were the first indicators that Stoick noticed. He was just willing to over look them before, surely he knew that Hiccup would grow out of it.

In fact Val and Stoick had named Hiccup, well Hiccup, as a joke. Hiccup was born early, just as Stoick had. When they had weighed Hiccup, noticing that he was below the average weight of a Viking baby, they were warned that he could possibly be a Hiccup. But Stoick and Val just laughed it off as though it were a joke, if their baby was going to be anything like Stoick, seeing as being born early was already a strong indicator, then he most certainly would not be a Hiccup.

Having full confidence that their son would not be the village runt, they named him Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third. True they had borrowed most of the name from their previous ancestors who were also born early and expected to be Hiccups as well. Only this time, they had thought it as funny and ironic, seeing as the likeliness for their son to actually be a Hiccup was so slim.

They were wrong. Their son was the first and only Hiccup recorded in the history of the Haddock line.

With a heavy heart, Stoick the Vast went to bed, allowing himself to dream of the ghost of his wife and the family he once had.

A/N: wow... so um, this is my first HTTYD fanfic!

Super angsty right? XD A little melodramatic as well hahaha well did I move you? I hope you felt the angst! Cause if not then I totally failed lol Crash and burn!

Anyways! I am a super HTTYD fan, like seriously, I read the first book when I was a kid and I even have a special edition of the first HTTYD movie and the Bonenapper extra. So anything you noticed that may have been a mistake regarding HTTYD isn't. Yes I have watched the T.V show as well. Although, there are a lot of things in the t.v. show that obviously do not match up with HTTYD 2 as noticed from the trailer, I can say that I did enjoy the episode called "Portrait of Hiccup as a buff man". Man the feels were real in that episode! Even though the graphics were pretty horrific in the first season, I still enjoyed that one the most out of the entire first season.

So I do respect the Haddock line, but this is before that episode about Hamish the second's treasure obviously. So nobody knew that there were other Hiccup's in the Haddock line, seeing as it was covered up out of stubborn fatherly pride lol

So yeah, in case you were wondering...

Yes, Hiccup has inadvertently discovered screamo. Did vikings actually sing screamo? No, no they did not. But this is just a fanfiction, not some accurately historical account of Viking traditions. hahaha, I mean Dragons never existed in the Viking age, and they never actually wore horned helmets, so who's to say that Hiccup can't discover his talent for screamo?

Will this one-shot turn into a series? Probably. Ideas just suddenly popped into my head about this one-shot idea, so I don't think I could help it if I added some more onto it :P

R&R please! If I get a good enough feedback I might even write a modern Hiccup one-shot ;P

I'm usually worn out by modern fanfics, but this whole screamo thing has totally spurred me on XD