October Writing Challenge - Tumblr Posts

Khunnoos Promptober 2024

October is just around the corner and I’ve always wanted to do one of those October challenges. So, here it is. A Promptober for my currently fav couple (G4). The prompts aren’t that well thought, they’re just some tropes I like and want to write about. Feel free to participate if you want tho!

Here’s the collection (KhunnoosPromptober2024) and I’ll write the list of prompts below the cut.

Prompts:

1. Arranged Marriage

2. Body Swap

3. Crushes

4. Concerts

5. Coffee Shop AU

6. Doctor AU

7. Enemies to Lovers

8. Fake Boyfriends

9. Ghosts

10. Fluff, Angst or Hurt/Comfort

11. Idol x Fan

12. Japan trip

13. Matching tattoos

14. Marked Fate

15. Locked-up together

16. Childhood friends to lovers

17. Partners in crime

18. Party goes wrong/College Parties

19. Police/Criminal AU

20. Quiet vs Talkative Boyfriends

21. Robots AU

22. Reverse Plot

23. Royalty AU

24. Secret Relationships/Secret Dating

25. Stealing the Groom

26. Soulmates AU

27. Time travel

28. Utopian Universe

29. Vampires AU

30. Time loops

31. Horror, Thriller or Fantasy

This is just a personal challenge, really. I don’t even know if I’m gonna be able to compete half of it but you’re absolutely welcome to participate if you want to. How, you might wonder? Well, by just writing and adding to the collection I made on Ao3. That’s it. What you’d get? Well, more to read about our mutual fixation, I guess? 😅

There’s not much more to add. No actually rules. The collection is open and unmoderated. Sign-ups are also open, and I’ve added the prompts you see here. Wish I would’ve posted this earlier but I was hesitant. Have fun writing! That’s what’s important. I’d love read everyone’s work (if there’s anyone who actually participates. lol)

.

.

.

.

Watch me fail to fulfil even one of these and embarrass myself *sighs in regret already*

Wait how many x-tobers are there? I thought there were like one or two but I feel like I'm missing so many of them?

Like Whumptober? And Kinktober? What others are there?

Does anyone have like a request for flufftober / whumptober / kinktober ?

Any pairing in the Harry Potter / Marauders / Baldurs Gate 3 fandoms

(Or if you have a wild request and don't mind that I don't know much about them haha)

I want to challenge myself but have a hard time doing so haha 🥹

Does anyone have like a request for flufftober / whumptober / kinktober ?

Any pairing in the Harry Potter / Marauders / Baldurs Gate 3 fandoms

(Or if you have a wild request and don't mind that I don't know much about them haha)

I want to challenge myself but have a hard time doing so haha 🥹

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!

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.

. 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 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

. 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.

Another day done!!! Two technically since I fused day 5 and 6—their prompts went hand in hand for me so I preferred doing one fully okay prompt rather than two half-assed ones. So here's some more fun stuff with my OC Nic and the tree peepaw

Day 5/6: Autumnal and Fallen Leaves

At first, it had been subtle. The once vibrant green had darkened with time, the few flowers adorning his beard slowly withering away. Now, the changes were more prominent. A few mushrooms peeked underneath the little foliage he had left, now splashed with ochre tones and shades. Nic found themselves brooming the house every day, fallen leaves making a trail behind the scrybe of the beasts wherever he moved.

The forest had changed, too. Several trees stood semi-naked, if not entirely, and the animals seemed more focused than ever on scavenging some extra food here and there. Nic had followed a squirrel once; it held a small nut of sorts and saw with their own eyes how the animal just stored it inside a tree trunk, not using it or sharing it with others like they usually did.

The young satyr had noticed a temperature change as well. They weren’t used to such harsh cold out of nowhere. One day, they were fine walking around with little more than their top and loincloth, and the next morning, they felt like they were about to freeze to death, cold biting down onto any exposed piece of flesh or fur available. Nic had been forced to track down the trapper and exchange some pelts for foil, putting together a warmer piece of clothing for those days. Back in Botopia, they recalled that there wasn’t much of a temperature difference, even with the passage of time. Around that time of the year, the factory worked harder. Hence, the chimneys and motors radiated more heat and smoke than usual, which Nic had never considered as the reason for the blanket of cosiness and warmth that spread through the town no matter the season. Along with the cold air, mechanically engineered so it travelled through the air conducts in summer, they had grown up used to little to no temperature variation. What they felt now was just plain cruel.

Then again, they had also noticed some changes of their own. Their fur, for one, had turned thicker in a way. It was more of a hassle to dry after washing, but they had to admit it made for a much-needed coat in the colder days. The colour had shifted, too. From a reddish hue, it now looked almost faded grey or brown. Leshy had mentioned it was expected, but Nic wasn’t so sure.

Nic cursed the older satyr as they brought in some more wood for the chimney. While Leshy had been doing scrybes-know-what, they had been working hard, chopping some wood down to have something to keep a fire going. Wasn’t he the master of that whole realm? Why let this annoying season stay, with the biting cold and the sudden rains, when he could just… make it go away? And where was he anyway? Nic had yet to catch a glimpse of him in all day, not at lunch when they came back from Grimora’s, not in the afternoon after visiting the woodcarver, and not now as the sun set and his beloved moon came out.

The fawn frowned without even noticing, their ears dropping and their tail moving restlessly from side to side. They weren’t concerned, of course not. Leshy was powerful. And even then, why would they care if something happened to them? No, they didn’t care. Not at all. They just needed that blasted tree grandpa to show up with food already.

As the cabin door creaked open, Nic turned from the chimney, ready to demand an explanation for the lateness, yet they remained silent as Leshy came inside. The elder satyr dragged his tail and practically his hooves, too, as he walked in, the door closing behind from a gust of wind rather than his own doing. He looked paler, Nic noticed, a darker green shade settling on his skin that was now more visible thanks to the thinning of his once lush foliage. Even now, as he moved, some leaves fell to the ground from his body. Even his fur, supposed to look just like Nic’s, seemed to have lost its robustness. Somehow it looked a bit too thin, fragile even. Nic’s ears flattened as they watched the scrybe of the beast haul a chair in front of the fireplace before slumping down on it with a weary sigh.

“…You’re late”, Nic said in a hard-to-read tone.

“I am. I lost track of time on my way back. Many of my beasts are preparing for winter, and I had to make sure things are proceeding like they are supposed to”, the older satyr explained, his voice laced with exhaustion.

Nic’s ear twitched.

“You didn't bring back food.”

“That I did not. The angler’s catch was sparse today, I'm afraid.”

They nodded, acknowledging his answer. The younger satyr then hesitated, and against their better judgment, they poured some water they had left to boil with the chimney's heat into a cup. They made their way to the cupboards, where Leshy stored the different herbs and spices he harvested from the forest, and reached for a handful of chamomile. After adding a dollop of honey and making a mental note to replenish their reserve the next day, they returned to where Leshy sat and stood in between him and the fireplace. The scrybe opened one eye, looking up at Nic as if expecting them to say something, a mixture of surprise and curiosity stirring within him. The younger satyr remained quiet and just placed the cup in front of him. Leshy looked at it, then back at Nic, one ear twitching in curiosity.

“Drink”, they urged as they shook the cup again in his face.

Leshy blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected sweet gesture. Nic barely did anything for him, only if it was something of mutual benefit, and even then, they sometimes were a bit too proud and petty and “forgot” to do Leshy’s part. Before the young satyr could take back their offer, he reached for the cup and took a sip, the warmth of the tea seeping into his bones in a gentle embrace. He sighed softly, slumping further on his chair.

The warm cup of tea hadn't been the only surprise of the evening. Despite Leshy failing to bring fresh food back, Nic managed to put together a soup with some mushrooms and vegetables on the verge of spoiling, this time without Leshy even needing to ask. The younger satyr navigated the cabin quietly, their movements only punctuated by the creaking of wood underneath their hooves.

The scrybe of the beasts watched as the little fawn paced around his home, begrudgingly picking up the falling leaves he had left behind earlier, cooking for both, and even tending to the fire. Guilt tugged at Leshy for not being able to help, yet he couldn’t help the growing smile on his face. It seemed that despite PO3’s best attempts, this one was capable of feeling empathy. Nic tried to hide it, of course, and to their credit they had gotten much better at it. The once obvious tells, like their tail and ear movements, had become more subtle, not so much as to cover their actual thoughts, but enough to prove a challenge for the scrybe. Now, it was how their leg bounced anxiously, up and down, even as they merely stood up and stared at the soup while waiting for the food to cook. Their right ear tended to twitch softly here and there, too, as if an invisible fly was bothering the little fawn.

It was endearing in a way, seeing the distant and cold satyr suddenly worried about the creature they had repeatedly claimed to despise. There was a hint of anger underneath it all, maybe mild annoyance given how subtle the signs were, but it was clear they weren’t happy about their own feelings and what they were doing. Leshy had to repress a chuckle, aware that any hint of teasing would only spoil the fragile peace they had finally found.

The soup was surprisingly edible, which, given the young satyr’s inexperience in the kitchen, was more like a miracle. They ate in silence, sitting in their chairs in front of the fireplace as a soft rain started, drops hitting the wooden ceiling softly and wind caressing the leaves outside in unison, making Leshy relax. The sounds of his forest, no matter where they came from, reminded him he was not alone and his efforts were not in vain, lulling him into a sense of calm. Nic, on the other hand, seemed to find the sounds unnerving. Huddled in their seat, their knees pressed against their chest, they took the last spoonfuls of soup with palpable unease. It was only natural, given their unfamiliarity to the rain and storms, not to mention the tales Leshy recited for them of sections of the forest getting burnt to the crisp by lighting probably hadn’t helped either. The scrybe chose not to intervene, far too aware by now that they would just get offended if he tried to be gentle with them or help without them asking.

“Can’t you make it stop?” Nic’s voice broke the tranquil atmosphere inside the cabin, drawing a look from Leshy.

“The rain?”

“The season. Autumn”, they clarified. “It’s making you weak. You’ve been losing leaves and getting cold. You are sluggish. The forest might be yours, but it won’t be kind if you show weakness.”

Leshy couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his lips, his tail idly swaying behind him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be worried about me, little fawn.”

“I’m not”, they huffed, their ears flattening in annoyance, “ but a weak scrybe is a dead scrybe. Your domain is falling apart, it’s starting to get too cold for even animals with fur, and your trees are losing their flowers and foliage. Plus, these rains are annoying. How is anyone supposed to do anything when the dirt is muddy, or when water drops from the sky at the worst times possible?”

Leshy hummed in thought, considering his words as he took one last sip of the soup’s mediocre broth. He looked at the fireplace for a few seconds, lost in the flickers of the flames.

“Do you reckon sleep is useless?”

Nic’s ear twitched as they frowned.

“No. If a machine works for too long without rest, it will overheat and break, maybe even shut down completely.”

“That’s… one way to put it” Lehsy remarked, having hoped for a less technology-related response. “Just as we, and machines, I guess, need sleep, the forest needs its rest, too. Spring is when my realm feels in its prime—flowers blossom and seeds flow within the ecosystem to sprout new forms of life, which in turn makes the task of feeding those who rely on plants and weeds much easier, which allows them to reproduce and with that the bigger beasts get more food available as well.”

Nic nodded, following his explanation. Leshy had shared the concept of the food chain with them before: small animals eat plants, bigger ones eat smaller, then they die, and plants eat them in return. Everyone had a place, yada yada yada.

“Yes, I get that. But now things are dying while in spring they flourished. That’s why spring is good, and autumn isn’t. I’d even take summer over this. Why would you willingly end the season in which your domain thrives?”

“Because now is when my forest needs to rest. It worked hard in spring, thriving as you put it. But I can’t freeze time and make it stay like that.”

“You can, though”, Nic pointed out, knowing the scrybes had enough power to carry out impossible tasks like that.

“I could, I suppose. I have the ability to do so,” Leshy agreed hesitantly “ but that doesn’t mean I should. The old has to make way for the new, and autumn and winter are the seasons tasked with this change. Leaves fall, but newer, stronger ones will sprout with time. Some animals don’t make it through the winter, but their offspring will thrive and take their place, hunting, gathering, or whatever their purpose might be. You are used to things remaining, being built and modelled to ignore decay and remain despite it all. But that is unnatural, little fawn. Things change. Life moves on. We are born, we grow, we learn, we live, and we die. We wither and rot, and something or someone else takes our place.”

He paused, his gaze drifting to the wood the fire consumed in the chimney. “If things didn’t change, then we wouldn’t be eating a meal you made from harvested seeds, or getting warmed up by the fire that ignites thanks to a once-before tree. Even in your home realm, you tinkered with rusty pieces and forgotten ‘code’, as you called it, to improve them and make something anew. To change, for the better or for worse, one must accept the decay of oneself.”

Nic stayed quiet, considering his words. They hated that it made sense. The pieces in the factory they used to work with followed a similar rule, as he had pointed out. They had toyed with many, taking away cogs or screws and adding new parts to get them working again or making something entirely new. Even in the temple of eternity, where they rose above organic beings and their needs and prided themselves on their ability to escape nature, the concept of change still haunted them. Change and death came in different ways, but they arrived nonetheless.

The young satyr looked down at the lower half of their body. The deer-like appendages remained there, no matter how many times they had wished and begged and cried for them to go away. The hooves, the tail, the horns. It was all new. It was all change.

“Sometimes change isn’t good”, Nic replied, a hint of bitterness in their voice.

The scrybe shrugged.

“Maybe. Sometimes, change might seem bad, but later, it proves to be a blessing. Sometimes it’s the opposite. Sometimes, change just is. It doesn’t care if you like it or not, and it certainly doesn’t mind whether its implications are seen as “good” or “bad”. The best you can do is play along and do the most out of the current situation.”

The cabin fell into a comfortable silence after that. The crackling of the fire was now accompanied by the crunch of the previously fallen leaves that burnt within the flames, now used as kindling to keep the heat alive. Outside, the rain poured all over the forest, watering the different plants that needed it and flooding some dens of various beasts, some making it to the surface in time and some drowning in the stream of water that filled their house. The scrybe closed his eyes as his body relaxed with the heat, the sounds around him lulling him into a deep slumber. Thinking he was asleep, Nic placed a thick coat of wolf pelt over Leshy’s shoulders and went to bed, leaving Leshy with a comfortable smile.

I'm no longer gonna bring up the fact that I'm late to these things because I'm starting to realize there's no way I can catch up sweats

BUT! Day 7 is here! Almost 7 days late to make it more poetic

I think the reason this one took me so long, besides getting a god-awful assignment, was that I had no clue what to do with this prompt. But alas, here it is (also I'm trying out different ways to post my writing in here so if you see me messing around with the posts formats, yeah Idk what I'm doing but I'm trying my best)

Day 7: Chestnuts

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Summary: Hilda and Boreas go out into the forest to pick up chestnuts for Gothi, and the dragon worries about her rider's bottled up feelings.

Rating: Teens and Up Audiences

TW: Implied self-harm

Words: 2,100

Characters: Hilda Hávarðr (OC), Boreas (OC)

Boreas growled as he found another one, and her rider crouched next to him to examine the find. The burr was mostly brown yet had a soft green hue that hadn’t quite gone away yet. That and the fact that the nut itself peeked from underneath the spiky coat meant it was good enough to pick up. She carefully grabbed it and placed it into her basket along with the other chestnuts they had gathered.

“Good job, big boy. I’m sure Gothi will appreciate your help.” Hilda praised him as she petted her dragon’s neck, making the beast purr softly.

Raising to her feet, she brushed off the bits of dirt that had gotten on her pants and readjusted her coat. This year’s autumn was proving colder than usual, the wind taking advantage of any little entryway left in her oversized clothes to make her shiver. At least it wasn’t so bad as pure winter, when the cold made her suffer from a constantly stuffy and runny nose, and she couldn’t smell anything at all. Now, she felt some sort of relief as she caught the gentle, earthy tones of humid dirt that carried the air and reminded her of autumn.

Despite the persistent pain in her knee — always present right before and after heavy rains — she continued walking through the uneven terrain, her eyes peeled in search of more chestnuts to harvest. Gothi had sent her apprentice in a search for them; something about how they were helpful in remedies against inflammation or even digestive problems, though Hilda had the feeling the old lady just wanted an excuse to enjoy the sweetness they offered when toasted. Regardless of the reason, she had accepted the task, as usual. And as usual, she was stuck now with a dull and time-consuming chore, yet she couldn’t complain.

The young healer sighed as she grabbed another handful of chestnuts, always making sure they were ripe and not the toxic horse chestnuts —if she picked those up by accident, Gothi and her would be more than busy for the next days, given their poisonous properties. 

Boreas didn’t seem enthusiastic about the job either; then again, the woolly howl had a tendency to find many activities boring if they forced him to do something rather than nap and be lazy all day. But he was still there with her, something she appreciated greatly.

The wind picked up unexpectedly, a sharp swoosh breaking the stillness of the forest and making many trees shake and some more chestnuts and leaves fall, Hilda’s scarf swinging along in the direction of the sudden gust. She looked up, only to spot the black and red tailfins of a familiar night fury and another four dragons following closely. The distant laughter of the gang of teenagers carried on the breeze, fading as they soared past the forest'. Her gaze lingered up in the sky for a bit too long, snapping back from her thoughts only as her dragon gently headbutted her side. She smiled gently, giving Boreas a few pats on his head. 

“Let’s keep going, okay?” Her dragon huffed, letting out some mist out of his nostrils. She knew he didn’t approve of her dismissal. Hilda sighed. 

“Come on, we have barely filled this one basket, and we still have two more to go.” 

In protest, Boreas shot some cold air to his rider’s face, freezing the tips of her hair. She flicked it off and rolled her eyes at the beast. She knew where he was going with this, and she knew he was more stubborn than her. 

“Really, now? Can we not?” The dragon’s stare said more than words could. As usual, Hilda was the one to give in. “Fine, you win, you big ball of fur. But we are picking up more of these, too.” She insisted, grabbing another chestnut and tossing it into the basket.

The woolly howl followed, seemingly content with the deal, and looked at her rider expectantly. 

“I don’t even know what you want me to say.” she knelt down, examining the coat of a chestnut that had fallen into a pile of leaves. It looked rounder than the others, and as she tried to peel it she felt it was more complicated, too. Hilda left it on the ground, knowing it was a horse chestnut. “That I kind of wish I could be up there with them and fly around and have fun little adventures?” she huffed. “Sure, yeah, I guess I do. So what? Look at them. They are heroes. They are brave, strong, smart, capable, and they have done so much good for Berk. I almost died the one time I tried to do something by myself. They’ve earned it. I haven’t.”

Hilda’s voice didn’t hold resentment or judgment. Perhaps a twinge of jealousy, but deep down, she knew that would always be there, just as someone envies the friend with a prettier face or the neighbour with bigger muscles. Her tone did show frustration, however. Maybe at them, maybe at herself, but it was there. Boreas snarled, showing disagreement, and his rider let out a dry chuckle as she turned to face him. 

“What? You know it’s true. I mean, come on, do you seriously think I’d fit in there with them? I’m not strong; I’m not a warrior. I’m not brave either. The only thing I got is brains, and even then I’m probably dumber than Snotlout when push comes to shove. All I’ve done, all I’ve achieved, it was dumb luck or just a happy little accident. Fishlegs would have made for a better healer and Astrid would have made for a better Hávarðr and you would be better off with Ebba than with the mess that her big sister is. The hunters were right. I’m nothing if not a little mouse who sticks her nose where she shouldn’t. I could barely heal my little sister, and Hiccup is more capable with one missing leg than I am with an annoying but functional one. I’m not fit to be a Viking or a healer; I’m not made to be a Hávarðr, let alone a rider!”

The forest fell into a deep silence; the only sound to be heard was the wind gently brushing the ochre-coloured leaves now that both the girl and the dragon had stopped walking. The beast’s once challenging look had now softened into an almost pitiful glance. Hilda returned the look to her dragon, refusing to let any tears fall. He didn’t move, still not used to her outbursts, and neither did she. It hadn’t been the first one, far from it. She tended to bottle up everything she felt like it until she was too far gone and finally exploded. Sometimes, it manifested as anger that took out on herself, physically or verbally. Others, she sobbed herself to sleep. 

But there was something that had changed. 

Boreas took a step closer and nudged her stomach with his head. He purred and looked up at her, and despite not being able to communicate with her with words, Hilda felt a tender, soft feeling in her chest. It wasn’t the words that mattered to her. It was the fact that he was still there despite it all. 

He had met her at her lowest point, tricked by dragon hunters because of her childish naivety and unable to fend for herself, yet somehow determined to keep living and make it back to Berk, if only to heal her sister. And now, almost a year later, he was still there. He had seen her ups and lows —her laughter and tears, her relentless determination that made her work harder than she would ever admit, her glances at others with a hint of jealousy for fitting in so nicely while she fought to keep her place in the tribe, and the constant shadow of dread that loomed over her as if she was a fraud about to get caught at any moment. She had tried so hard for years but barely got anywhere. Even Hiccup, who she once considered her equal, was now seen in a new light and a true Viking. Because he was a hero and had earned his place in the village. 

Boreas, the beast that had spared her life, whether out of pity or compassion, had been there for her more than any of the Vikings she had known and helped all her life. He didn’t need her. He had no reason to stay. Yet he did. She was enough for him. 

Overwhelmed by her bottled-up emotions, Hilda crumbled into tears and fell to her knees to hug her dragon, clinging to his fur as if she was scared he’d fly away any moment now. The beast remained quiet, nuzzling his head against her cheek, tenderly brushing away the tears that fell down her face. The basket of chestnuts lay abandoned on the ground, quickly forgotten as the young healer found solace in her dragon’s company. She wasn’t a Viking, or a rider, or fit in in her own village, and her dragon didn’t care. She was Hilda, and that was enough. 

Boreas slept soundly next to her bed, the hut filled with a serene quietness no one dared disturb at those hours of the night. Hilda was the only one still awake by then, at least in her home, where everyone else had fallen asleep long ago. Her eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute, yet she remained seated on her chair, her eyes unmoving from the piece of paper in front of her. 

It had been months now since she last saw the dragon hunters, their territory far too remote from Berk to cross paths once more, yet her mind still toyed with the old offer. “Your tribe must hold you in high regard”, he had said, his hand shifting the hunter piece to face one of her own, “you seem like one skilled healer”. He had won the maces and talons game with a move she could have never seen coming, and had later let her walk into his brother’s trap, not bothering to stop her. Yet Viggo had warned her. In his own subtle way, the businessman had seen something in her and had given her a chance to free herself from that situation, an act of mercy or perhaps still part of his sick mind games. “Imagine the heights you could reach if only your people trusted you more. There is a world of wonders and knowledge for you to explore out there, little mouse. And I can provide it, if you so wish.” She knew he was deceiving, a cunning man with a silver tongue, someone who could sell sand in a desert. But she was curious. And she wanted to do more. She wanted to show everyone just how capable she was. She wanted everyone to notice that same side of her that her dragon and that dragon hunter had seen. 

Her eyes wandered towards her window, meeting the sight of the glorious meade hall, the pride and joy of Berk, the heart of the village. It was a place of unity and celebration, where everyone met and celebrated significant events and festivities, where the chief listened to his people and did his best to aid them. It was also where Hilda’s plan to heal Ebba had been turned down by her own and she had been forced to rely on no one but herself to save her sister from death’s grasp. Despite it all, the healer wanted to help them. She wanted to show she was worthy of their praise and attention, yes, but above all she just wanted everyone to be happy. She wanted to help Berk grow into something better. 

Stoick would have never agreed to her proposal of working with dragon hunters, potentially perilous enemies that went against Berk’s new values and morals. So she didn’t ask for permission. Hilda finished the letter she had been writing, the charcoal moving swiftly on the scroll, before she paused to consider her choice. Maybe the offer didn’t stand any longer after she had not only managed to escape the trap, but also get away with the very same dragon the hunters meant to keep. Maybe it had been too long already and the deal Viggo had once proposed to her was no longer available. Yet she secured the scroll close and prepared it to be sent to the northern markets the following day.

She would help Berk and earn their respect, no matter the cost.

Surprise! Another prompt done! I'm not sure how I managed to squeeze out a new one today after having written a different one already, but I'm not complaining. Kairos and Kyn are always a pleasure to write about. Plus its been forever since I wrote any smut and I'm happy with how it came out!

Day 8: Umbrellas

Fandom: None

Summary: Kairos wakes up next to her beloved, but in the middle of their affections, something breaks the moment.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1,751

Characters: Kairos (OC), Arkyn (OC)

Kairos shifted in the lavish bed, taking some blankets with her. Yet an unexpected opposition against her tug made her try again in vain. With one last try, now half awake and half asleep, she finally managed to bring the blankets to her side, along with something else.

The queen readjusted herself to cuddle up the vampire, one arm resting on her chest and one leg lazily draped over hers, both women entangled in bed. Queen Arkyn yawned, opening her eyes slowly as she woke up. She glanced up at her companion, Kairos’ white hair tangled and messy after last night’s activities, her pale skin decorated with almost completely faded bite marks and hickeys. Kairos glanced down at her beloved as well, softly cupping her cheek as she admired her in all her glory, the sheets doing little to nothing to hide their bare bodies. She felt a surge of lust reawaken as her eyes travelled down to the queen’s chest and torso, hers free of any love marks to ensure her husband wouldn’t suspect a thing. The blankets cut off the great view far too early for her liking, but she remained civil. They had drunk plenty of wine the night before, and while Kairos could barely feel the effects of alcohol in her body—a perk from being an immortal being with regenerative healing powers—the queen wasn’t so lucky, and the vampire didn't want to disturb her if she suffered from a hangover.

Kyn’s skin was warm to the touch, while hers was cold as a corpse, giving away her undead nature. The queen melted into Kairos’ affections with a dreamy sigh, earning a chuckle from her forbidden partner.

“What’s so funny?” Kyn questioned as Kairos caressed her cheek with her thumb.

“Nothing. I just find it endearing how the oh-so-wise and stoic queen becomes a puddle of sighs and blushes in my arms” she replied teasingly, a playful yet sweet smile tugging at her lips.

The queen, a woman well into her 40s, pouted at the tease. She shifted on the bed to get on top of Kairos, her head now resting on her bare chest as the vampire traced idle lines along her back.

“At least I’m not the one who needs a pillow to quiet myself at night”, Kyn teased back, her grin growing as Kairos blushed.

“Quiet, you”

The queen giggled at her mumbled words and leaned in to kiss her.

Kairos happily returned the kiss.

While these nightly encounters were fewer and more scattered than Kairos would have liked, there were nights like that one when they were free to enjoy each other’s company without interruptions. With the king gone for some important meeting in the neighbouring kingdom, their kids off with their grandfather for the weekend, and little to nothing significant for the queen to do, both women had agreed to meet up and enjoy themselves. And enjoyed themselves they had.

Their clothes lay scattered around the bedroom floor, having been tossed and quickly forgotten by the couple amid their haste to make it to the bed; the cups of wine still had some remnants of the drink, the bottle open and empty.

Kyn’s lips travelled down from Kairos’ own to her jawline, gently sucking and nipping at her neck as she lowered her head further. The vampire hummed at her affections, one hand grabbing the queen’s waist and the other tangled between her hair.

The previous night, the queen’s room had been filled with sounds of pleasure and desperation, a shared feeling of urgency to explore each other’s bodies once more. Sweet laughter and whispers followed by gasps and whimpers, moans muffled by lips or pillows to ensure the castle would remain ignorant of their activities. However, that same sense of urgency had disappeared, replaced by something else.

As the queen glanced up at Kairos, the vampire gently lifted her and pushed her against the mattress, now with her on top and her precious Kyn underneath her. That was how they usually started those encounters, yet later, they often found themselves in opposite positions and roles, and both were very much on board with it. Their eyes locked briefly, and Kairos couldn’t help but admire the view before her. While time had yet to affect her physical appearance, her lover had grown older with the years—some grey hairs mixed in between her brunette locks; her porcelain-like skin showed creases along her mouth and eyes, and her eyes, while still ignited by the same passion she shared for her, lacked a certain shinning, a flicker of youth Kairos had once thought permanent in her gaze.

The vampire felt her heart ache, a sudden sadness threatening to take over her mind. If only she had reached out sooner rather than hiding as a monster, scared of getting rejected by her beloved, maybe then they could have shared countless more nights like that one. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been forced to marry that dreadful husband of hers. Maybe-

“Kai?” the queen’s soft voice broke the vampire’s thread of thoughts, her eyes once more landing on her bare form and the sadness leaving way for a familiar burning passion.

“Yes, my sweet?”

“If, you know, you don’t want to do this again, that’s alright. I know I’m not exactly in my prime, and giving birth does take its toll on a woman’s body…” Arkyn laughed nervously, a soft blush spreading to her cheeks, feeling like a teenager talking with her first crush all over again.

Kairos shut her up with a kiss, earning a gasp from her lover yet feeling her melting into it regardless. Once their lips parted, leaving both women breathless, Kairos reached out and gently caressed her cheek.

“You are even more beautiful than I could have hoped,” she murmured as she studied her lover’s body, her hungry gaze leaving no patch of skin unseen. “I just wish I had reunited with you earlier to worship you as you deserve.”

Worship. That was it. Someone as beautiful, kind, witty… As perfect as her dear queen deserved nothing, if not the treatment of a goddess from her followers. She deserved to be worshipped and pampered, to be treated like a deity amongst men. Kairos might have lost time, but she was more than willing to make up for it all.

Before Kairos could fully delve into the s heets once more to prove to her queen just how much she still wanted her, a sound broke the quiet of the night. A rooster’s song made its way to the queen’s chambers, making Kairos halt her assault on the queen’s chest. She frowned, glancing up to the window. As a former farm girl, she was used to the sounds of the animals, and she knew by heart at what time of the day each felt more active. It was true that they had fallen asleep, but surely their slumber had lasted less than an hour, a couple at most… right?

“Something wrong?” Arkyn asked breathlessly, her eyes half-lidded as she glanced up at her partner.

“…What time is it, Kyn?”

“Uh…”

The queen got up from bed, leaving Kairos alone between the sheets and furs that sat atop the luxurious mattress. Kyn stumbled towards her desk; the discarded clothes, the darkness, and her residual dizziness made her trip by accident on some of the garments. She reached for her pocket watch, and her eyes widened as she registered the time. Kairos didn’t reach to see the hour, but her night vision allowed her to catch the surprise etched on her lover’s face. She frowned at her expression, raising her head from the comfortable pillows.

“Kyn?” she urged her.

“So… It’s kind of a little bit past 6.50 AM”, she answered softly, trying to keep panic from settling into Kairos, which happened anyway.

The vampire usually left the castle far earlier than that, not daring to be found out by the queen’s maids that barged into her bedroom with the sunrise, or even worse, getting caught by daylight and burning alive as she tried to return to her manor. If it was that late already, then the sun would come out any minute now, and both Kairos and the princess knew the castle wasn’t a safe place for her to wait out the daylight while hiding from everyone.

“How did we sleep so much?!” Kairos gathered her clothes along with Kyn, putting them on in a rush.

“Well, there was the wine, and then we did end up pretty tired after we tried that new thing with the candles…” the queen murmured under her breath as she searched for something, making Kairos blush.

“It was rhetorical , Kyn, but thank you for the reminder; I was there, too.” She started buttoning her blouse, yet her hands kept clumsily missing the small holes. “Ugh, stupid buttons!” She gave up on her blouse and floated around the room as she put on one shoe, looking for the other all at once. “Have you seen my other heel?”

“Bathtub?” Kairos quickly flew into the queen’s private bathroom, finding her lost heel and necklace inside the tub.

“Thank you, love.”

Arkyn felt a quick kiss on her cheek as she kept digging in her closet, Kairos putting on her heel on the other side of the room. Her hands fumbled around the different drawers and compartments, frantically searching every nook and cranny of her wardrobe. Just as Kairos was about to announce her departure, the queen rose victorious from her search and rushed to her side.

“Here. It’ll help you avoid the first rays of sun.”

Kairos looked down at her hands as the queen passed her what she had been looking for: an umbrella. She looked up at her beloved, her smile causing one of her own to appear on her face, and she gently kissed her lips.

“I’ll be back tonight”, she promised, the vampire’s lips lingering on the queen’s for a second longer than necessary.

“And I’ll be waiting for you. Now go before the sun catches you.”

With a heavy heart, Kairos opened the window and opened the umbrella. She glanced back at the queen, her body refusing to go away so soon, yet the sense of rush grew with each passing second.

After sending her one last kiss, the vampire jumped out of the window and flew away, her figure soon becoming a blur for the queen, who watched her departure from her bedroom.