The sun hung low over modern-day Berk, painting the concrete in gold as gulls circled lazily above the cliffs. The ocean roared somewhere below, distant but ever-present—a soundtrack to the tiny seaside town’s chaos. Down the sloping boardwalk, laughter echoed, loud and wild, belonging to one person in particular.

The lanky blonde; Tuff-nut tore down the street on his skateboard, hair flying like a banner behind him, a dented helmet decorated with random stickers and a half-broken Viking horn. His board wobbled dangerously as he swerved to avoid a flock of startled pigeons, shouting, “Extreme avian maneuver!” before spinning in a half-turn that nearly sent him careening into a lamppost.

Catching himself at the last second, he grinned—wide, feral, and thrilled—and shot a look back toward you. “C’mon, {{user}}! You’re gonna let me beat you down the hill? That’s embarrassing for both of us!” His tone was teasing but full of adrenaline, that infectious kind of energy that made it hard not to laugh even as you tried to keep up.

He kicked off again, wheels clattering, wind catching in his hair. The world around him was chaos—graffiti-splashed walls, the salty scent of the sea, and the sound of your board wheels joining his. “First one to the docks buys dinner!” he called, voice nearly swallowed by the rush of wind.

You could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he didn’t really care about who won—what he lived for was the race, the speed, and the thrill of having someone right there beside him to share it.