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Having a god awful day. Doesn't help that I got rejected from a possible internship and two of my friends didn't, plus today was a very long day of uni. I just want to close my eyes and skip this week tbh

Hopefully writing will help once I get home, if I'm not too tired to open my laptop that is...

. So being the incredibly smart person that I am I forgot to post day 3 here. I swear I'm usually not this forgetful, but uni is kicking my ass repeatedly and finals haven't even started

Anyway, gonna leave this one here! I had fun writing this one and figuring out some creative ways to introduce woolly howl's abilities and nice synergies with a rider that needs different means of defense rather than regular fighting

Day 3: Full of Colors

“You want me to do what?” Hilda asked while glaring at the dragon rider’s leader.

“It’d be a pretty simple mission, just-” Hiccup tried to reason.

“You want me to retrieve changewing acid. With the twins.” The healer crossed her arms, her glaring not getting any better.

“Well, when you put it like that…” the young berkian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes moving away. “Look, we need more acid soon or our supplies won’t last. And, you and the twins are the only ones available for the job right now.”

Hilda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Boreas, right behind her, merely glanced at the two riders lazily as he rested on the ground, one eye open.

“Can’t Snotlout do it?”

“I need him and Hookfang at the forge, Fishlegs has decoded another part of the dragon eye and-” Hilda raised a hand and stopped him before he started info dumping on her about the dragon eye and all there was to it.

“What about Astrid then? Stormfly and her are far more capable than me when it comes to tracking down dragons” she protested, begging to any god that would listen to save her from that not-so-appealing task.

“She is out with Heather, scouting the nearby islands.” When Hiccup saw Hilda’s mood wasn’t improving, he sighed “Look, I wouldn’t send you out on a mission like this if I didn’t have to. I’m aware Boreas isn’t the best dragon to send out against acid-spilling dragons,” the woolly howl huffed annoyed by the comment, icy wind coming out of its snout “and given what Fishlegs has in mind for the dragon eye… Let’s just say that not having a healer around is probably not the best case scenario. But, we do need the acid, and fast.”

Rationally, Hilda knew that Hiccup was right. That didn’t mean she liked the idea, though. Going out to chase changewings and collect their acid was a tough job on its own, but going with the twins on top of that? She didn’t have anything against them—if anything, they were on rather good terms as long as they didn’t pull any pranks on her. Not to mention, their zippleback gas made the task of finding camouflaged changewings much easier. Yet she knew that mixing those Loki worshippers with acid-spewing dragons and a lack of supervision from someone who could actually infuse some sense into them, would lead to an absolute disaster.

Hilda wasn’t one to complain about her tasks, even if she disliked them. She usually just sighed internally, stayed quiet, and did whatever she had to. But this time she just didn’t have the energy to play along and keep her head down. Of course, it wasn’t like Hiccup knew. What was she going to say? “Sorry I can’t go, I stayed up late working on some antidotes and unguents for the guy we are at war with and his men”? It was hard enough as is to hide her morally-questionable activities from the others, and she already suspected that Heather wasn’t quite sold on her act; refusing to go on expeditions without apparent reason wouldn’t help her cause.

Begrudgingly, the healer mumbled an affirmative that brough some piece to Hiccup, and with a hand gesture she called for her dragon to go with her. They’d need to bring some supplies to the expedition, and if she was going to visit changewing island she figured she’d at least take advantage of the trip as much as she could. Back in her hut, she hid any suspicious documents in her personal chest before preparing her bag and belt. Bottles, a water skin, some gloves, scissors… She yawned as she closed the bag, now with everything she needed (and could find) inside.

“Let’s get this over with, big guy” Hilda set her saddle on Borea’s back, the dragon staying still and letting her rider prepare him for the flight.

“Aw, haven’t started and already want it to end? Hildi, you wound us” a very familiar voice said from the roof of her hut.

“Aren’t you excited? We gong to a changewing hunt!” another one added with enough excitment for the three of them.

“It’s not that chasing around changewings and collecting their acid isn’t my favourite activity of all time…” Hilda replied without looking up, fastening the belt of the saddle “but some of us do have more important things to deal with”

“Like sleep?” the twins flew down to the ground on their zippleback, Barf and Belch greeting Boreas with a playful chirping that her dragon returned with a soft growl. “You look like shit” Ruffnut pointed out.

“Yeah well, that is pretty high up in my priority list, but no” she stifled a yawn and got up on the woolly howl’s saddle. “I’m working on something a bit stronger for Hiccup’s pain, and I need to perfect the dosage”

“Has anyone told you you work too much?” there was a hint of worry in Tuffnut’s voice, which made Hilda smile a bit and forget about her grumpy attitude. It was sweet of them to care, even if she knew there was little to nothing they could do to help her.

“Some times. Now, lead the way. The sooner we get there the sooner I came come back to my desk” The twins did a mocking salute and took off, Boreas following closely.

Thankfully the island wasn’t too far from Dragon’s Edge. And thankfully, there wasn’t any trace of hunter activity. The riders landed on a more secluded section of the island, following Hiccup’s advice to avoid entering changewing territory right away and instead sneaking up on them. The male twin had been whining about the procedure, saying it wasn’t as fun as immediately landing in between a flock, but his sister kept him in check.

Once on land, the real work began.

“Booooooriiiiiing” Tuffnut complained, making Hilda’s irritation grow.

The search for a changewing proved to be harder than usual for some reason. They had followed all the usual steps: look for signs of acid markings, clawing, or discarded scales. If none or few of the usual signs were visible, like in their case, go to the nearest water supply and wait for the dragon to approach the area. Which was what they were forced to do, much to the twins demise. It was a boring, long, and absolutely dreadful process that wore Hilda’s patience thinner and thinner with every passing minute and every comment one of the twins made. The healer tried to pass the time by looking at the few pieces of evidence they had left, wondering why this was happening. It was far too early for that. The twins, back when they were still acting a little bit sane and the lookout had barely begun, had suggested that maybe it had been the hunters’ doing, but Hilda knew that couldn’t be it. Viggo and his men were exploring other locations from what she recalled—their last meeting had been to the west, and from the quick glance she took of the base when she was flying with her dragon, she knew it wasn’t likely they had changed settlements so quickly. Besides, if the hunters had been there, they would have left more than enough traces for the riders to notice later. The twins discarded the theory as she shared her second point, and that’s where the ideas stopped.

“Where in the Hels are they?” Hilda mumbled as she sat back against Boreas, the woolly howl seemingly just as bored out of his mind as the everyone else.

“Beats me” Ruffnut shrugged “Do you have any nerd notes?”

The healer reached into her bag and searched for her the papers she had brought along. She knew they had to be there… Ah, there. A bit wrinkled, but no matter. Fishlegs had prepared plenty of papers with information about different kind of dragons, and as they explored more nearby islands, he added more information regarding specific flocks and what information they had gathered about them. The card format wasn’t big enough to fit all the boy wanted to write down, so instead they switched to using bigger pieces of lose paper, usually available for everyone at the clubhouse. Hilda had made a point to pick up the ones that had anything on the flock that lived in that island, the “tamest” changewings they had encountered yet. She yawned as she scanned the papers, searching for anything that could help locate the dragons.

“21 dragons total, blah blah blah, diet consists of I don’t care… Here!” Hilda pointed at a line from the paper, both twins leaning in to look at the section. “Fishlegs mentions that this specific flock has been seen around a cave in the west side of the area, some members using it as a den to sleep. I mean, changewings aren’t really known for living in dark places, but it’s either cave time or…” she looked around, the river flowing calmly without barely making a sound, no creature but the three of them and their dragons to be seen.

“Cave time it is!” Tuffnut announced as he jumped up, leaving behind his sluggish attitude and bringing back his more energetic side.

Locating the cave wasn’t too hard, given the size of the island. The twins seemed more determined than ever to find the changewings, probably just as desperate to get the mission done as she was. They hadn’t explored the inside of the cave in their first scouting, given they had never had the dying wish of being in a strange closed space surrounded by acidic dragons… But desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, Hilda had come prepared. Once they had checked there were no changewings around the mouth of the cave—zippleback gas proved incredibly useful to spot these dragons even when they were fully hidden, the woolly howl landed softly on the ground, as quietly as possible. The twins landed behind him, looking confused as Hilda rummaged through her bottles.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Belch’s head leaned on her left side, letting its rider look over Hilda’s bottle.

“Gonna heal them to death?” Barf’s leaned on her right, the other twin joining in “Oh oh, are we throwing bottles at them?”

“I was thinking more like…” Hilda found the bottle full of the powder she was searching “induced nap time”

Carefully, Hilda opened the bottle with a pop before sprinkling them on a piece of cloth, slightly damp to make sure the spores would stick but not so much so they would get stuck. She had been toying with the idea for a while, but hadn’t properly tested it quite yet. At least, not in this scale. Following Fishleg’s maps, the cave’s airflow system’s main entrance was that same entrance, which meant this could work. Or at least Hilda hoped it would.

“Alright big boy, let’s do this. Just like we practiced”

Hilda set the cloth over Boreas’ snout, right after the dragon inhaled deeply. Then, the dragon breathed out. Woolly howls had the curious ability to create mist at will if they had a good enough control over their icy breath. Her rider wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but it was similar to how other dragons could hold their breath to light up the dragon eye. Boreas let out a strong, icy wind, that soon turned into a heavy mist, spreading deep into the cave. With the cloth on front of his mouth, the mist had a pale purple tone, with what Hilda hoped was enough dosage to affect whatever dragons resided in the cave. The twins observed the process as the dragon did it a few more times, a hint of curiosity and mischievousness in their eyes. Their friend was sure their heads were already coming up with multiple ways to use this new trick in their pranks.

“…So how do we know if it worked?” Tuffnut asked after a few minutes of nothing much happening.

Hilda was about to answer, but then she hesitated. She hadn’t though about that.

“Want to do the honors?” She asked the Thorstons twins, putting a smile on their faces.

Before she had the chance to regret it, Barf and Belch was already flying past them. Hilda sighed and looked at her dragon, who just huffed in what probably was mild disappointment. “I spent all day watching a river flow, then breathed some air, and now they get the exciting part?” his rider felt like she could read her dragon’s thoughts “I’m never coming to other mission”, he probably grumbled in his mind. Thankfully they didn’t need to wait more, and instead the twins voices resonated through the cave walls.

“YOU GOTTA COME HERE!” the twins shouted.

The healer didn’t know if that was a good news shout or a bad news one. Either way, she got on Boreas’ saddle and the dragon immediately took off, dashing through the increasingly darker cave with great agility. Hilda worried that the darkness would be too much at some point and they’d get lost. But then, she saw something. Hard to notice at first, mere shadows that moved as they flew past, she guessed, yet those turned to be the complete opposite. Bright, colorful splashes of color, hitting the rocks and ceiling of the cave. It made no sense. There was no other entryway, and even if somehow sunlight managed to get in, why were the lights so colorful?

Hilda didn’t need to wait too long to find out. Boreas stopped as they reached the room where the twins were waiting for them. It was beautiful. The changewings were indeed living inside the cave, much calmer about intruders than they had ever been. Some walked around and gently sniffed the newcomers, others simply returned to their naps or crawled around without giving them a second thought. That, Hilda had expected. What she wasn’t ready to see, however, was the nest. There was a section of the cave that turned into a small lake of sorts, probably a deviation from the river above ground that found its way into the subsuelo. But right in the middle, there was a piece of land. A small circle, covered in acid and with eggs resting on top, as if the acidic bed somehow made it a safe place to set them.

“Are those… changewing eggs?” Hilda asked in awe.

The twins were looking at the nest just as amazed as she was—changewing eggs had the fun characterictic of having some sort of recubrimiento that made them glow, as if surrounded by an actual ever-changing changewing’s coat. That, along with the acid and the water, made it so the small light that came from the eggs reflected on both superficies, illuminating the room with a mesmerizing show of lights and colors.

“Forget the nest, why aren’t we dead already?” asked Tuffnut after a few seconds of just staring at their surroundings.

“Oh, right. I made an extract from those fruits Mala used on our dragons once, the ones that calms them down. I thought if Boreas could spread it with his mist to reach these guys, we’d be good to go. …I actually hoped I had added enough to make them sleepy since in larger quantities it can be used as a dragon somnifero, but, this works too” she shrugged non-chalantly, even if inside she felt so incredibly proud that her idea had worked “But, we should still try to collect the acid as soon as possible. I don’t know how long these effects will last”

With that said, the three of them got to work, collecting multiple vials and bottles of acid that the changewings so kindly donated in their drugged state. Once they were done, even if they all knew the sooner they left the better, Hilda couldn’t help but stare at their colorful surroundings once more. Beautiful was far too little to describe the scene. She smiled, knowing Hiccup and Fishlegs would get consumed by jealousy when they heard, and got on her dragon.

I'm falling so behind but I swear I'll see this challenge through! For now have the fourth day, featuring my lovely doomed yuri couple, Kairos and Kyn <3

Having some more random thoughts about my httyd sona (Hilda)

I want her to be resentful to Stoick and almost every Berkian, partly for having lots of issues grow from the roots of being deemed "not good enough" because of her disability and despite her efforts, but still have a very frail thread that makes her stay and help Berk's people. That thread of course being her little sister Ebba.

But given her chaotic good energy and how little she cares for the actual village she's just gonna. Do some shady shit. First being trading and working with Viggo way before the hunters and the riders get into a war.

Hilda starts buying rare medicine and plants from Viggo in exchange for either gold or free healthcare for his men, which helps Berk so much without them even noticing. They just think this new medicine is Johann bringing more stuff, or Gothi and Hilda figuring out new remedies together, and while Gothi does know something fishy's going on I don't think she bothers asking as long as it heals their people.

I want to make it darker though, have Hilda grow into a mad scientist, pushed by Viggo's vision of her. He sees such incredible potential in this shy and anxious healer, and he pushes her to her limits. She toys with poison and some substances that can be used in battle, she turns her head when the hunters kill some dragon so she can get a specific part of the beast, she dissects dragons once dead to learn more about their properties and how to exploit their abilities for medicine. All her work is dedicated to saving the lives of other vikings, and she has such a mad scientist take on it.

Ofc she also has a probably very unhealthy tendency to rely on Viggo for emotional support as their transactions become less professional and more personal. He provides her with care and praises she's never heard before, so why wouldn't she fall for this handsome, incredibly intelligent man? She wants to dissect his brain so badly, but for now getting to know him and dipping her toes in the romantic side of their relationship will do.

using emdashes and a semi colon in the same line. this sentence will end when i do

. Starting off very well with the challenge yesterday I completely forgot to share that I'm posting each day in AO3! I also forgot to share yesterday's entry here, so, I'm gonna leave both the link and the entry now:

Day 2: Apple scent

Nic was hungry. Starving, more precisely. They held their stomach tightly, their fingernails digging into their exposed flesh as they stumbled around the forest in a desperate search for something, anything to put into their mouth. PO3 had always fed the now-satyr; as long as they worked in the factory their plates were full and wallets… not as full, but still with enough foils to afford some extra meals here and there if needed. But it wasn't like the machine had done it out of the kindness of its cold, robotic heart, no. Instead, it had been to keep Nic alive, a way to ensure its precious resource didn't expire. A minor inconvenience the scrybe of technology had been willing to stand to assure its biological helper didn't run away so it could keep exploding Nic.

But now? Nic knew there was no coming back to the factory, no pleading with that insensible metal box to take them back. It wasn’t like it would have greeted them with open arms anyway. As they walked, Nic tripped over something, and too weak to react in time, they collapsed on the ground with a thud. Groaning, the satyr sat up, carefully examining their foo- hoove to check for any visible injury. They felt a wave of relief wash over them as both their hooves seemed and felt unharmed, soon overshadowed by a piercing stab of hunger in their belly. Nic curled up, clutching their abdomen and muttering an array of curses.

Regardless, they got up once more. The hunger was stubborn, but so was Nic.

Their eyes scouted the area in search of anything remotely edible, occasionally glancing down at the uneven terrain. “Your legs are skinny and weak. They lack proper muscles. You must eat and walk more”, Leshy had told them not too long ago. At the time, Nic had merely scoffed —as if that old bunch of twigs and leaves knew what he was saying. The problem wasn't their “lack of musculature” or diet; it was that their human legs were gone, replaced by those stupid satyr ones. “Stupid satyr legs, stupid new body, stupid PO3, stupid fore-” their mumbling trailed off as they spotted something. Hidden in between some bushes, the satyr managed to spot a glimpse of a reddish colour in between the foliage. Their ears went up instinctually as if checking their surroundings before hesitantly approaching the bush. Berries. Those were actual berries.

Something within them rattled with hesitation, as if warning the brain not to proceed. But hunger overrode caution. They lunged themselves towards the bush in a starving frenzy, rashly yanking the small red globes from the bush and shoving them into their mouth. For a few blissful seconds, relief washed over their body. It seemed too good to be true—and it was. A bitter, vile taste flooded their mouth as soon as they started chewing on the strange berries. Nic’s fur spiked up, their nose scrunched in disgust, their ears pointing downwards. Gagging, the satyr quickly spat out the berries, coughing out any bits that could have gone down their throat. Their stomach growled harsher than before, making Nic bend over in pain. The promise of food and the sudden lack of one had only made matters worse; it felt like the woods were teasing them, mocking them. A few tears threatened to appear in Nic’s eyes, but they refused to let them fall. They would not cry. They would not let that weak, imperfect, organic forest win. Nic was better. Nic would not succumb like all those beasts around them; Nic was NOT one of those beasts! 

A maelstrom of emotions filled Nic’s mind—frustration, exhaustion, anger, resentment. They couldn’t bear it any longer, and against their better judgment, they let out a primal yell as they stomped on the damned bush. Hidden spines retaliated, attaching themselves to the satyr’s fur, but this only fueled their anger. It only made them want to destroy every single thing that resided in that forest even more. Their hooves went down with crushing force on the plant, the few remaining berries getting squashed on the ground and leaving sticky, crimson sap on the dirt. They grunted and huffed as they used all their remaining strengths to take revenge on the bush. 

Minutes later, Nic stood panting for air, famished, and with those wretched spines still clinging to their legs and lodged in between their hooves. Their breath was ragged, the stinging aftertaste of the berries remaining in the back of their mouth as bile threatened to rise from their painfully empty stomach. It growled again, and Nic clenched their fists in frustration.

“Food”, they reminded themselves, as if the thought had slipped away in their frantic waste of energy “I need food”. 

So, without letting their hunger stop them, the famished satyr plucked away the spines from their pelt and forced their legs to stop shaking. They inhaled deeply, getting ready to keep going, when they heard something—a subtle crack , loud enough for their receptive ears to catch. Nic’s right ear twitched, so they turned in that direction, only to find a small squirrel standing next to a rotting tree stump that the satyr had passed earlier. A small, brown squirrel that had a nut in between its tiny hands. Nic stayed still, very still, and observed the animal further. The squirrel was small and probably faster than them. But it was also weak. And Nic was hungry . 

Before they realized what was happening, Nic threw themselves at the squirrel. The small rodent let out an alarmed squawk and shoved the nut in its mouth before running away, Nic following closely. The squirrel dashed through the forest ground, agile, almost as if following a hidden path only it could see. All while Nic stumbled over and tried to recover their balance repeatedly; the uneven terrain and sudden turns made it even harder for their legs to work like they wanted, trying to step and run as they were used with their human body. Ragged and uneven breaths tore from their throat, sweat dripping from their forehead and pain shooting up from their hooves and hind legs as they begged for a stop but were forced to keep going. Yet moments later, the pursuit proved to be another failure. The little beast ran up a tree with ease and hid inside a hole in its trunk, far too high for Nic’s exhausted body to reach. The satyr panted for air as they looked upwards, as if hoping the squirrel would come out with its tiny arms full of nuts to share. 

Was that all, then? Defeated, time and time again by that realm home of small critters and dangerous beasts, tricky and deceiving, filled with nothing but pain and… sweet smells? Nic’s stomach roared again, the now-familiar pain gnawing at their empty insides. But the satyr was too focused on something else to care. That smell. They sniffed the air, their nose now proving much more useful than it had ever been. It was there—faint, mixed with scents of musk and dirt and other fragrances that made the forest smell as it did. But that smell was different. It belonged, it wasn’t a foreign one like the scent that lingered in their older clothes from the factory, oily and pungent to no end, with hints of smoke from the large pipes that polluted the air and everything around them. No, this scent belonged to the forest. A sweet, rich, apple scent that made the satyr’s stomach growl. 

Without much of an alternative, Nic let their body guide them. Their hooves stepped carefully through the undergrowth, their nose being the only guide to tell them where to step next. They took reluctant steps at first—Nic’s mind wasn’t too happy or trusting of this new side of them that acted as a guide, that instinct that fit more the mind of a beast rather than the one of a machine. Yet the hunger lingered and grew, and their muscles were already too exhausted as it were to spend any remaining efforts in any other useless attempts. So for once, they turned off their rational side and just let their senses guide them. 

The hesitant movements soon turned into decisive strides—their legs lunged their body forward in small jumps every time their hooves met the ground, impulsing themselves into the air for a fraction of a second before returning to the soft soil and repeating the process all over again. Nic was soon dashing through the forest, the scent growing stronger and stronger as they moved. It wasn’t only their legs that allowed them to move faster, but their whole body working in tandem to reach their destination. Nic’s ears twitched when their head neared a branch or another obstacle, allowing them to duck before that happened; their tail moved along with the direction of their upper body and helped them keep their balance in those tight turns they hadn’t been able to perform earlier. The satyr felt a surge of adrenaline from within, and a vague sense of something they couldn’t quite determine. Despite the sweat, pain, and overall uncomfortableness, a smile tugged at Nic’s lips. 

That was, until they reached the origin of that sweet, juicy apple scent. Leshy’s cabin. Nic stopped before the small house, catching their breath as it dawned on them what had happened. Inside the cabin, the elderly scrybe of the beasts carefully sliced what looked like a homemade apple pie, its aroma filling the air and reaching the famished satyr. Nic’s stomach growled once more, impatient, and Leshy turned his head. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, the young satyr staring at the older one as he stared back, knife in hand. Nic was tired, hungry, and now scared as they recalled the way they had parted from Leshy’s care—they had refused their help as soon as they were capable of standing on their hooves again, insulted the scrybe for trying to nurse them as if they were a fawn or a weakling, for bringing them clothes that fit their new body better and keeping them safe and warm inside his cabin as their ankle recovered. Nic wouldn’t have been happy if they had been in Leshy’s position. If they had been in the scrybe’s shoes, they would have raised the knife and run after Nic until they were no longer. The younger satyr’s fur spiked up in horror as they realized they wouldn’t be able to outrun the scrybe of the beasts in his own realm, even if it meant saving their own life.

Leshy held their gaze through the window for a few seconds, then glanced back down to the pie. He brought down the knife and finished slicing a triangular piece, a bit bigger than he had meant to, but no matter. The tree satyr hummed as he set the portion of pie on a plate, only to then repeat the process. He wasn’t oblivious to the way the little fawn’s mouth watered at the sight of the pie Grimora had so kindly baked and gifted him with the apples he had grown for her. And it seemed like the aroma had also caught their attention. Moving slowly, with the experience of one used to dealing with frightened animals, he reached out and extended his arm through the open window, offering the plate with a bigger slice of apple pie to Nic. The hesitation was evident, their ears flattened and their tail hidden in between their legs as he debated whether or not to accept his offer. And then, in the blink of an eye, the slice was gone and the younger satyr was devouring the food with a hunger of a pack of wolves. Leshy would have offered them a spoon or fork if needed, but it seemed they were far too hungry to wait for utensils. 

The scrybe of the beasts hid a smile beneath his leafy beard, amused by how quickly the fawn had forgotten their pride in favour of basic needs such as nourishment. A hint of surprise rose above, too; the older satyr hadn't expected the young fawn to last for so long in such unfamiliar lands without added help. He welcomed the surprise, either way, and as the fawn finished the pie and locked eyes with him again, he gestured to the door. There was much they could learn about the forest and its residents, and whether Nic liked it or not, it seemed like that place would serve as their new home. At least, until they figured out a way to change their new body for their old one. But in the meantime, they had plenty of apple pie to share.

i'm posting in AO3 for the first time and oh my god I never thought formatting would be such a pain in the ass. Absolutely love the website but I guess I'm not used to formatting things in that way

it's been a hot minute since I've drawn the canon cast

Day 1: "Ruffled hair"

Hilda let out a heavy yawn as she flopped down onto her bed, exhausted, the bedframe creaking underneath her weight, complaining about the sudden weight it had to support. The young healer groaned, tiredness and discomfort flowing freely through her body. It had been a rather long day—not only did she have to deal with the twins messing around with poison from speed stingers in the morning, which led to her finding out they had also exhausted her already low stock of antidote, which in turn lead to an almost day-long expedition to nearby islands to look for the needed ingredients and make once more some bottles of said antidote… but she also had to fly rather late at night to the dragon hunters’ base to retrieve some ingredients Viggo had promised her. While the journey wasn’t too long or exhausting, on her way back to Dragon’s Edge she faced the added issue of a sudden rain.

Rain didn’t prove much of an issue for most riders, not with how light it had been anyway; they would just soar above the clouds to avoid the light drizzle, or maybe even fly through it if the journey wasn’t too long. But neither of those was an option for Hilda and Boreas. Neither of them had the greatest sense of direction, and so dragon and rider relayed on rock formations and island shapes to know whether they were flying in the right direction or getting absolutely lost, which made it so they were forced to fly underneath the clouds for longer flights like that one. To make matters worse, as a woolly howl, there was a considerable amount of hair coating the dragon’s body. The unexpected rain, or any contact with water really, proved incredibly tedious at best and dangerous at worse for his kind. They had been relatively lucky as the rain didn’t grow into a storm, though, yet by the time Boreas landed on the dragon’s edge, his weight had increased and made it all that much harder to fly, not to mention how sluggish the usually agile dragon felt. But, they had made it, and now they were both utterly spent and drenched.

Hilda groaned as she forced herself to rise from her soft, inviting bed, painfully aware that sleeping in soaked clothing would only make things much worse for her. She took off her boots and coat, her vest and pants soon following as she looked for some kind of bucket to let them dry in, not caring much about how they’d get wrinkly rather fast if she didn’t stretch them out properly. Finding a cloth to dry her hair, the young healer approached the wooden chest that lay underneath her bed and stored all her clothes, some neatly folded and some others thrown in there without a care in the world. She fetched a clean pair of pants and a comfortable shirt, not minding whether they were outside clothes or inside ones. She just wanted to sleep.

Boreas, however, had other plans. The dragon growled softly from outside the hut, making Hilda glance in his direction to check on the beast. He was scratching the ground, lifting some dirt with his claws, his growls soft and persistent. Hilda sighed, knowing what that meant: her dragon was seeking her attention, and guessing by the urgency of his pawing, her help too. She walked towards the door, a bit groggy from the tiredness and with her towel on her head, awkwardly sitting on the top of her ruffled hair.

“What's wrong, big guy?” Hilda inquired as she knelt down, knowing that her dragon preferred it when they were at the same eye level. Boreas growled once more and shook without previous warning, spraying Hilda’s face with a cascade of drops of water. She tried to raise her hands and cover herself, yet the dragon had been too quick, and her reflexes were rather slow after the long day. She sighed, giving Boreas a bit of a glare. “What was that for?”, the young healer asked as she dried her face off with her towel. The dragon roared now, as if impatient, and Hilda merely stared at him, blinking. It took her longer than she cared to admit to notice what the issue was. Right, the water. Boreas didn't like being wet. In fact, the woolly howl despised water. Hilda had observed a similar reaction to water coming from other snow dragons, and with Hiccup they had hypothesized that it was in their nature to avoid big bodies of water. After all, it wasn't the same to swim in a lake with lukewarm water than one with freezing temperatures, the latter much more common in these dragons’ habitats. A self-preservation instinct buried in their blood, one that prevented those animals from trying to swim in cold water and dying trapped underneath a layer of ice or frozen to death. If Boreas had been a wild dragon, Hilda would have applauded this system. But given he no longer lived in those snowy and desolate mountains they had first met at, his rider found this quirk of his rather annoying. Of course, she didn't blame him for it. It was nature at its finest, and at least the dragon was kind enough to let her bathe him once or twice a year. That was something. But now, soaked in the rain’s water and cold from the chilly air of the night, the dragon looked at her with pleading eyes.

“I get it, I get it. Let's get you dry again”, Hilda murmured and petted his snout with care as she thought of the most efficient way to go about this. They had a big enough hearth of sorts in the clubhouse, but firing it up would probably catch the attention of Fishlegs, who was on watch duty at the moment, and it would have been awfully suspicious of her to show up at those hours of the night with a soaked dragon and no reasonable explanation that didn’t involve secretly flying off in the middle of the night. Starting a campfire right there, then? The rider surveyed her surroundings with a thoughtful expression, only to dismiss the idea. It would take too long to gather the necessary materials to craft a bonfire big enough to dry her dragon, and given Borea's inability to breathe fire, it would take her even longer to light the whole thing up. She glanced back at her dragon, her brows furrowed in thought and later in worry. It was clear the beast was uncomfortable, something that Hilda didn’t appreciate, even less given she knew she could help him. So, keeping a tired sigh to herself, she went inside her hut once more and rummaged through her things until she found a few more towels. “Alright, you big ball of fur, time for… whatever the opposite of a bath is”. The dragon huffed, throwing some of his icy breath at Hilda. “Yeah, well, you try to be funny when you are this tired. Now shut it, mister, and collaborate with me here”

The young healer kneeled down, her dragon begrudgingly laying on the grass as well, and she started drying him as gently as she could. She knew Boreas loathed the feeling of towels, scratchy and uncomfortable, but there was no other way to do it. At least, no one that Hilda’s exhausted mind could come up with. Fighting off a yawn, she felt her eyelids growing heavy, yet she persisted. The smell that reached her nostrils as she shook the dragon’s fur wasn’t anything pleasant either, an unpleasant scent that wafted to her nose, a musky and sweaty blend reminiscent of a Viking long overdue for a bath. But she kept going. Amused, she noticed how, as she dried some portions of his fur, the hair became ruffled and fluffed up, which her dragon didn’t appreciate as much. She untangled some strands of fur with her fingers, careful not to hurt the dragon, and combed his hide to keep it nice and tidy. Without noticing, she began humming a song as she worked, a soft melody that seemed to soothe Boreas, who lowered his head upon his front paws and calmly swayed his tail from side to side. The lazy beast could be grumpy at times, but Hilda had learnt enough about his tells to know he was at peace then. With a smile and newfound strength, she continued her meticulous care, keeping up both the untangling and the drying.

It took a couple of hours—some of the most exhaustive, monotone hours she had gone through, but Boreas was finally dry. Well, not completely; his fur was still moist to the touch, but both rider and dragon were happy with the result. Plus, the young healer had taken the liberty to braid a section of his fur, and that along with how happy and comfortable Boreas looked now, made her feel like her efforts had been worth it.

Hilda’s gaze travelled upwards towards the night sky, wondering how many hours of sleep she had left to enjoy, and maybe entertaining the thought of hiding in the edge’s cave system just to sleep in and avoid Hiccup’s inevitable scolding once he found her. A gentle touch on her hand brought her back to earth, and a warm smile tugged at her lips as she saw her dragon’s snout bumping into her palm. Hilda let out a tired, yet pleased yawn. “Good night, big guy”, she mumbled as she lay down on the grass. Boreas curled up around her, his fluffy and soft fur providing shelter from the biting cold. The dragon’s purring filled the night as he, too, drifted to sleep, closing his eyes. “I love you too”, Hilda mumbled back as sleep enveloped her in its gentle embrace.

One day late due to a random virus that very kindly left me rotting in bed with a fever and a barely functioning throat, but I'm up on my feet again and I'm going to try my best at my self imposed writing challenge! I haven't found many challenges that caught my eye so I went with a post I previously reblogged, basically a bunch of prompts, one per day til the month ends. I'm going to try and write as many as possible and see how it goes, I've never tried anything like this so I have no idea how long I'll last, but my only rules are to:

A) have fun, if I'm not enjoying it I'll stop

B) write at least 1k words per day

Having said that... I'm gonna drop the first day (that was supposed to be yesterday) and start the challenge!

The first appearance that made me fall in love with him

Happy spöök

I might have started the month with a fever and awful throat and teeth pain healthcare system pls take out my wisdom teeth already BUT I fully intend to try doing a full month of writing prompts. Most likely these and not any fandom's list since they are pretty vague so I can fit whatever character I feel like using at the moment

October Prompts 🎃

Word prompts to use for doodling or writing

ruffled hair

apple scent

full of colors

walks in the forest

autumnal

falling leaves

chestnuts

umbrellas

ravens

Oktoberfest

pumpkin spice

cornfields

black cat

spooky

first wine

flying kites

whispers

picking apples

ghosts

sweater weather

acorns

pile of leaves

harvest

fog

Jack-o-lanterns

campfire

witches

samhain

stormy days

seance

trick-or-treat

Said it a year ago and I’ll say it again.

Pirate all your favorite shows, movies and games while you still have the chance.

Oh, and never stop supporting physical media.

Been having thoughts about a httyd Sona/oc I haven't developed much due to... Checks notes ah yes, burnt out.

BUT I want to be more active here (the community is so lovely and I want to be part of it so badly) and I want more imaginary people and plots in my head for when parallel computing gets too boring or overwhelming. So small ramble incoming:

Her name is Hilda Hávarðr! She is around Hiccup's age, a couple years older but she doesn't look it that much

She has a physical problem that makes it so she can't do much sport or anything that involves her left knee dealing with much pressure (projecting my irl issues into sonas goes brrr). As such, she can't fight, so since an early age she has been training with Gothi to become a healer. She still feels like she isn't enough, but being able to help by healing those who fight gives him some sort of peace

She has a little sister called Ebba, around 8 years younger. She looks up to Hilda because "she does weird magic to make others feel better, and that's pretty cool" (aka Hilda makes potions and medicine for those who need it)

Her father, Eivor, is one of *the* warriors, when he isn't fighting in a war, being pulled by Stoick to find the dragon's nest, or drinking with Spitelout, he is training young kids to fight. After finding out her first born was not only a girl instead of a boy like he had hoped, but also not fit for battle, Eivor and Hilda's relationship plummeted

Her mother, Sigrid, was once a teacher in Berk that taught young kids how to read and do basic math, but with Hilda's tough pregnancy she was forced to stop for a while. Afterwards she needed a long rest period, not to mention caring for Hilda on her own since the war with the dragons made it so her husband was fighting or training others all the time. She resents Hilda though since she was the first nail in the coffin to her teacher career, thought she has some respect for her as she grows up to be a formidable healer

Her dragon is a woolly howl named Boreas, and while they didn't meet in the most ideal situation, their bond is as strong as they go. They don't meet until 3 or 4 months after the red death's death

She isn't part of the main gang until rtte, but knows most of them:

Hilda is in friendly terms with Hiccup and the twins mostly, Hiccup because he goes to Gothi and her for ghost pain and other issues related to his missing leg. The twins are there almost daily, either themselves after a trick with their dragon gone badly or mentioned by some poor viking that got injured in one of their pranks. The twins eventually go to her instead of Gothi if they have some minor issue since Gothi tends to hit them with her staff to reprimand them for their carelessness, while Hilda just sighs and helps them

Given they are both shy at first, she doesn't know Fishlegs much, but sometimes she spots him in the forest looking for some rare plant she's also trying to find and they chat about why they are interested in it. Fishlegs considers her a friend but since she's intimidated by the idea of being close to anyone in the gang, mainly because they are considered Berk's heros and she sees herself as incredibly inferior to them, she only thinks of him as an acquaintance

She doesn't get along with Astrid or Snotlout. They aren't in bad terms by no means but the fact that they are warriors brings lots of issues back (along with some jealousy). With Snotlout it doesn't help that he wasn't the kindest to her when they were younger, getting mocked for not being "a real Viking" since she couldn't fight, and with Astrid she is jealous that despite being a woman she turned into such an amazing warrior; she represents all Hilda wanted to become to make her father happy yet couldn't

And that's it for now! I have a lot more to share and I've kinda started a fic focused on the beginning of her arch, but haven't polished it too much yet. I want her to be a chaotic good entity, she will help and heal those who need it but she will also break so many rules and do whatever it takes to get there

Anyway, if you are still here thanks for reading! Hopefully I'll keep posting and won't forget about this but who knows

my favorite somewhat underrated jarchivist moments

“a COMPLAINT? i could just as easily COMPLAIN about her WASTING MY TIME”

“before i address the central point of this statement, namely the question of…. whether the sky can eat people .”

melanie: “i should have known this was a COMPLETE waste of my time” jon: “probably 🙄”

“you don’t seem like you’re in your fifties?? or- or burnt to a crisp”

“you’re serious? you’re going on a date with… the dullard of skull mountain just so you have an excuse to eat a shopska salad?”

“another startling insight from the piercing investigative mind of georgie barker”

“WHAT is my metaphorical pit???”

melanie: “i mean it’s not like you have any reason to kill me” jon: noncommittal sound

martin: “melanie seems okay but i get the feeling she’s planning something?” jon: “i- i got that feeling. Too.”

“so. kidnapped. Again.”

“like colors, but if colors hated me. got it. christ i need a cigarette.”

“MARTIN. STOP trying to TOUCH the PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE. just PUT YOUR HANDS in YOUR POCKETS or SOMETHING-”

basira: “so would you say this was supposed to be churchill or alfred hitchcock?” jon: “jowls like that, could be either”

“coma! great! let’s rearrange his office! sleeping people don’t need. pens!”

“police brutality lawsuit? :)”

[picture of edwardian offense] “I what?”

daisy: “it’s a joke, jon.” jon: “oh! hAha! yes.”

“i mean you’re not suggesting that santa works for the people’s church..”

long-suffering sigh “fuck.”

“i’m starting to feel a little. Self Conscious being a post apocalyptic google !”

martin: “did it stir any feeling in you?” jon: “Yes! Nausea! Because of the Horrible Things In It!”

“Yes the Colossal Web stretching down into an Endless Pit is a Significant improvement😑”

“‘free will’ she says, as we stand in the middle of her FUCKING WEB”

oh yeah, with the new size limit for .gifs this thing can finally be posted

omfg i forgot that i never showed tumblr my greatest achievement. my pride and joy, my pi-ass de résistance

as a coping mechanism to deal with the fact that colin is probably dead or worse, i’ve relistened to the entire podcast and noted down the times where colin appears. here it is, if you want:

episode 1 (5:25-8:27) (23:59-25:57) (40:31-41:03)

episode 3 (4:03-6:48)

episode 7 (16:31-17:52)

episode 10 (12:06-13:51)

episode 19 (18:21-19:43)

episode 25 (18:00-19:35)

episode 30 (5:17-6:04)

make do of this what you will.

Welcome to the “whoops! I accidentally started got manipulated into starting the apocalypse!” Club. Members being Jonathan Sims and Mable Pines. They’re both ✨traumatised✨

Bonus comic

I've been thinking about names for the Gravity Falls crossover AU

(Yes they have to be latin phrases, shush)

"Ex Altiora" = "From the heights", referencing Toothless' arrival in Gravity Falls

"Ad Astra" = "To the stars", referencing both the ad astra per aspera title in Journal 3, and also the Pines family's eventual goal of getting Toothless to fly again so he can return home

“Canaries should stay above ground”

Sam was the Canary. He went below ground. He faced the consequences for doing so.

Although, technically speaking, you could also say he’s the miner, the one who ignored the dead canary’s warnings.

No one speak to me. This series has eliminated me from existence.

Gwen "tehehehe😁 😈🍷🥂🍾😈😁"

The rest of the cast "oh God oh God oh dear oh no oh God oh no oh fuck oh jeeze oh dear oh fuck"