#bit toothless!

[anoramactir]

i don’t know how to put this without sounding like a gamergater but datv might actually be too woke

[snekky-arts]

sorry i'm late i was busy with the existential crisis of it all

anyway, have something that gave me so much trouble but i think it turned out kinda well

also, this and the rest of this series are available on my Inprnt!!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Does Berk think Hiccup is frivolous in Httyd 1? Maybe a little bit aloof?

Stoick tells him to stop joking around in the opening scene of the movie, after the dagons have left. "This isn't a joke, Hiccup!" He tells him. And he tells him that after his rant about how he has things to worry about, like making sure the village doesn't starve in the coming winter, Hiccup answers to with a sassy "the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" Which really only manages to make Stoick even more mad.

After their first lesson in dragon training, Gobber asks the class "where did Hiccup go wrong?" and Astrid's response is "he's never where he should be." I think she means it literally. Why is Hiccup, of all people, in dragon training? Ruffnut and Tuffnut make sense. Snotlout makes sense. Even Fishlegs makes sense. (especially since Fishlegs has already shown effort by memorizing the Book of Dragons, effort Astrid clearly approves of given her shock at the twins and Snotlout disregarding Gobber's order to read the book.)

But Hiccup? Hiccup McSassyPants? Who gets told that his village could starve in the winter and answers with "well maybe they should eat less"? Who steps outside during a raid and actually causes more damage than the dragons pretending he's capturing a Night Fury? What is he doing in dragon training? That class literally ended with Hiccup almost losing his life to a Gronckle.

This is further backed up when after she has to protect both herself and Hiccup from a Deadly Nadder, which happened because Hiccup wasn't paying attention the whole time, getting them both in trouble. (Which is because he's fixating on figuring out a certain Night Fury, but they don't know that. To them, it just looks like he's annoying Gobber with meaningless questions. Why are you asking about the Night Fury? The one dragon who's single instruction is "hide and pray it doesn't find you"?) She explicitly asks him "Is this some kind of a joke to you?"

Followed up by "Our parent's war is about to become ours. Figure out which side you're on."

Once again someone questions Hiccup about how serious he takes things. But it's more than that, she's trying to give him a wake up call! Wake up, Hiccup, our parents are actually fighting a genuine war here and someday it'll be your turn! Stop making everything a joke before you get yourself or someone else killed!

Astrid actually isn't as much against Hiccup at this point as people often believe. There are actually a few points in which she eithers feels sorry for him or tries to help him in her own Astrid-y way. (And if the deleted scene hadn't been deleted, there would've been an almost friendly conversation had between the two before dragon training even starts)

Let's also not forget Hiccup's and Stoick's talk before dragon training even starts. When Stoick shows some actual vulnerability by laying his son's life in his son's and Gobber's hands when he decides to give in and let Hiccup go to dragon training while he's off on a voyage.

Hiccup tells his father "I don't wanna fight dragons!" in a tone that is rather pleading. To which is father chuckles and says to him "come on, yes you do!"

Remember in the opening, Hiccup practically makes the claim that he lives and breathes to kill dragon, it's "who he is." And now he suddenly claims he doesn't want to fight dragons at all? Can't fight them?

Stoick keeps his tone light, telling his son that he will fight dragons, don't you worry about that, Hiccup. With Hiccup doubling down that he's very extra-sure that he can't fight dragons, which makes Stoick double down in return, his levity disappearing.

"Can you not hear me?" Hiccup asks, desperate to be heard.

"This is serious, son!" Says Stoick. Which makes this three times that Hiccup is explicitly told to take something serious. (And you can just see the disbelieve or realization in Hiccup's eyes as he's once again not being listened to.)

(Followed by Stoick telling him to act like everyone else and to stop being Hiccup, which gets him, you guessed it, a sarcastic remark from Hiccup.)

We know that Hiccup changed his mind about participating in dragon training because he found out he couldn't kill Toothless. (or rather, he can't kill the scared and the defenseless, as the Red Death would later show) But Stoick doesn't know that. Berk actually seems to know very little about Hiccup and that's why they think that he's joking around at all times.

I'm willing to bet that the "disasters" he causes "every time he steps outside" aren't much of a help either. (and I wonder how many of these are actually Hiccup's fault or if Hiccup happened to be involved, so the blame is just automatically put on him.)

And this isn't a post to bash Hiccup. I love him to death, I love his sass as much as any other fan. And I am very much of the opinion that Hiccup's sass is a defense mechanism.

His feelings get hurt, so he tries to hurt someone else's back. Like when he probably feels guilty about his father worrying about the village getting through the winter, so he makes that comment about how the village could eat less to offset that guilt. (Which again, only makes Stoick angrier.) And I think the proof is in the rest of the franchise.

Hiccup sasses the most when he's 15-16, a.k.a from Httyd 1 to DoB. But by the time we see him again in RttE (chronologically) he sasses a little less and in a friendlier and more playful context, but he has also matured to deal with his negative feelings differently. RttE is, chronologically, when Stoick actually begins to consider if his son is ready to be chief. He can see how much Hiccup has matured, especially when there's such physicaly distance between them. It's the equivalent of not seeing someone over summer break or watching someone go traveling and see how much they've changed when you reunite with them.

(also, he can knock Snotlout unconscious with a single punch, I bet that helps as well.)

But it is the way Hiccup chooses to defend himself, giving sassy comments (think "Thanks, I was trying!" to Snotlout's comment about the mess he made) to either painful comments about him or actual serious statements like the ones Stoick makes that still gets him in the feels that make him seem so shallow and unserious in the eyes of Berk.

Then there is his apparent history of crying wolf. When he actually does manage to shoot down a Night Fury, his father doesn't believe him and Hiccup explicitly says "this isn't like the last few times, I mean I really actually hit it! It went down!"

When you combine all of this, you get a teenager who doesn't appear to take anybody serious, including the lives of himself and others. Terrible traits to have as a person, let alone when you're the chief's son.

Somehow, a narrative of frivolity and aloofness was build around Hiccup that he just could not escape no matter how much he tried to crawl out of it. At some point, Berk put him in a box, marked it "jokester" and Hiccup's efforts to get out of that box only grew and grew. When his efforts failed, whenever he sassed back, Berk just pushed him even deeper into that box. Not looking further into what Hiccup actually needed or was trying to say.

Do I think Berk was right? Not at all, because this is all surface-level, things Hiccup legitimately says and does to protect himself and nobody realizes this.

Toothless doesn't speak a single word to him during the Forbidden Friendship scene, yet he can get across exactly what he expects from Hiccup (mainly "keep your distance, I don't trust you enough") without being mean about it. He doesn't snap, he doesn't bare his teeth. He just gives him faces that Hiccup understands. Only growling or hissing when Hiccup passes a boundary Toothless very clearly isn't comfortable with. (or, let's say, when his feelings are hurt, like when Hiccup steps on toothless' first drawing.)

And it's because he's not mean about it that he actually makes more progress with Hiccup in half a day than Berk does his entire 15 years.

And that's sad. That's what this post is about. About how sad it is that Berk takes Hiccup at a very shallow level and decides that must be his entire self as a person.

[thereweredragonshere]

Always very much loved the concept light fury (or, as I’ve started calling it, the storm fury), and a while ago I mentioned that a night light with that instead of canon light fury would be cool as fuck. So.

Equinox!! I planned to draw her brother, solstice, but I was too excited to post this lmao😭 might draw him soon :)

[asphodeline-lutea]

Toothless's little face fell incredulously. "What do you mean, you don't know who I am?

“I’m T-t-toothless."

[whump-galaxy]

Imagining a character getting like, beat up and thrown on the ground in the woods, fearfully looking up at their attackers…and then a massive werewolf steps over them, growling so low and loud that it vibrates through the whumpee’s bones….

The attackers are scared off and the werewolf turns to the whumpee.

[saturnniidae]

you say you have disabled hiccup headcanons? :3 *ears get really reall big. how are they doing that. why*

id love to hear them :D

Yes! Okay you've opened the floodgates my friend, I've been waiting to talk about this for so long.

He's autistic and has adhd! Obviously.

stims by tapping his fingers against things, waving his hands around, quickly taking apart and putting back together trinkets he's made, mimicking dragon noises (tho over time he's realized their vague meaning and stopped doing it randomly bc it was confusing them), running his hands over toothless' head to feel the texture of his scales and (when he was younger) petting his fur vest

His 'obsession' with things (trying to one up viggo, and when he was working on his sword) is literally just him Hyperfocusing on things

Easily loses track of time when he's locked in (Hyperfocused) working on inventions

Has that random 'I need to info dump NOW' thing and wakes Astrid up in the middle of the night like to randomly talk about abnormal behavioral patterns in a new terror flock on berk and Astrids just like 'babe I love you but it's three am'

Dyspraxic. When he was a kid he spent so much time practicing coordination for things like learning to write then later working in the smithy, and almost gave up more than once before continuing out of spite.

immunocompromised. Like seriously Hiccup has a weak ass immune system and would get sick every winter as a little kid, to the point of it being fatal. The villagers would always talk in hushed tones (bc of stoick caught them they'd get yelled at) and wonder if that years gonna be the one where he doesn't make it but he always ended up pulling through (also out of spite)

After meeting Toothless he developed tinnitus. Didn't think much of the ringing in his ears at first bc. Yknow, dragon roared at full volume directly into his ear. Then it didn't go away and he was like 'huh maybe this is an issue' then it just got worse as he continued to be in close proximity to loud noises like, even more roaring, and explosions etc.

Despite this he's got that weird "I enjoy loud noises like dragons roaring and the sound the wind makes when you're flying at like 40 mph, but if I hear the noise of lots of overlapping voices all having different conversations in a large room I need to die."

Chronic pain. The obvious, phantom pains in his leg of course, but fun fact! The human body really doesn't like it when you've broken bones repeatedly especially in the same area, and with how much this kid gets thrown around in rtte it's safe to say he's broken, fractured, and dislocated a lot of things.

When he comes home/gets back to the edge after a long day of traumatic or ridiculous events, first thing he does is take Toothless' saddle and prosthetic tail fin off, then he tries to crash in his bed, but either Toothless doesn't let him sleep until he's taken his prosthesis off (I hate that he sleeps with it on in canon looking at it makes my body hurt imaging how uncomfortable that'd be), or Astrid comes in to make sure he does (and also to make sure he eats bc he forgets to wayyy too often).

Asthma. No explanation. I just know he has it

I hope not all of these came off as super angsty, they aren't meant to completely. Like sure it sucks but he's allowed to not be miserable constantly (disabled people are allowed to not be miserable constantly, it doesn't make our pain any less valid. We're allowed to be happy).

I just love when characters are permanently, physically, changed by their story. Tbh if it weren't for rampant ableism, I think a lot of characters in action/adventure stories would be disabled, but people aren't ready for that discussion yet. Ty for the ask I had so much fun answering and writing these!!!

[artinandwritin]

I'm making a lil paper animation with the concepts of stopmotion for school based on the httyd books! All I gotta add in now is Toothless jumping onto the rock but I have to do that digitally sadly. It's a pretty fun process ngl and the result is looking great to me

[always-amity]

Couple more doodles from last night

[kaisumisucreations]

kinda relating to last post, heres some art i made of my bug dragon critter thing. i originally drew these a while ago but never posted/kept tweaking them

[spacenintendogs]

hiccup always has toothless with him at the sanctuary, especially if they're giving tours that day :)

[lumiidragon]

I feel bad about it, especially when some people I talk to are just baffled at how I feel this way, but Toothless is one of the characters who was most ruined in my eyes in the entire franchise. It really was to such a degree that I legit just don't like him like I used to back before THW. ;v;

Sorry, but it's just how I feel!

[itwoodbeprefect]

the great thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things. the terrible thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hiii saw your requests open and i thought why not give it a shot. I love your stories, I'm more attached to your style of writing melancholy like on floret, counting coins, better left unsaid and always the angel never the god. So, just a random idea to throw out there you can do whatever with it:

Hiccup and yn were engaged early on. Yn is a bit older and fitter to follow around Stoick to learn how to defend and manage Berk. Yn feels sorry for Hiccup and tries to make him enjoy his youth and time with his friends more while she made him handle the rest. Leading to a misunderstanding that he didn't feel needed when in fact he did have a crush on her with how she doted on him and how cool she looked fighting dragons and ordering people around. While she liked him for his thoughtful caring side but still envied his freedom and creativity.

That's pretty much it idk lmao it was just a word puke. That's just the gist no need to be word for word, if it's too much i completely understand but truly want to praise your eloquence and how you caught me right in the feels augh. Thank you for your time! 🦀

Wildflower

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2113

You never asked to be here.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

Next>

His arms ached, heavy and stiff as if the body of a sapling had been shot right through the bone. They loosened slightly and dipped under some hefty weight- he paid them no mind, eyes drawn to the wild world on the outside even as he grunted and struggled. 

With a jerk, dropping the sword, he with a strength he’d never really been able to spend on the all things that really mattered. There was a hefty clatter and a clang, the sound no less thick than the bang of a heavy bell or a gong, long metal body slamming and dancing against stone.

 His feet and legs stuttered as he stepped both forwards and back, palms roughly meeting the wood of the counter, bouncing eagerly as if he might begin to run or be startled into action.

There had been a shout- something indignant, deeper than normal, not so much a battle cry yet no less defiant and sure. He thought he might have known it- he had to look. 

The feel of smoothed, aged wood beneath his palms, both flatter and rounder than liquid, solid and uninterrupted- the sound of warring battle-cries from the world outside and the sweltering feel of heat from both the forge and the terrible reign of dragonfire and sharp teeth and clawed mouth- all of it came secondary to his searching, the bulk of him overshadowed by the hefty forge window

It was too early in the battle and the warriors of Berk had been too prepared for there to have been a line outside the door, and well- most of everyone had already left for the other side of the island, where the assault had been most violent.

He felt the burn on the side of his hand as he brought his hand back, grazing it against the side of the table- he’d accidentally pressed it against the face of the sander’s belt. It’d stung and buzzed with a thickness not unlike the feeling of folded cloth crusted in dragon spit or the hard skin on the bottom of an old foot, though the skin on his own palm, he knew, wasn’t so thick or stubborn.

Past raging orange flames and scorching yellows he saw you, lonesome, outlined like a shadow in the light across the clearing. 

Your shoulders were stiff and your stance full as you swung the hard, metal-rimmed bottom of a bucket against the head of a beast- a Gronkle, its thick, green-brown head giving way to a wide maw as it bellowed.

 It bled, its blood splattering across your face as if it were naught but a shock of light or darkness made liquid; as if, instead, it was you who had been violently cut and not it.

There was no vicious, beautiful Astrid here to ogle at- not now, as there had been in the before times and as there would be later- no, just you. 

You, who had been meant for him… At least, he thought so. 

He wasn’t completely confident in the fact- the whole thing went rather unspoken of. It wasn’t a taboo per se, more something that lay heavy, made clear through few words a long time ago then made obscure by the lengths of time and age.

Still, there came a suresty with it even if there wasn’t much of a bond between the two of you, something that, for him, acted as a heavy comfort. In times like these, he leaned into it, felt the lump in his chest beat against it like his bones were nothing but taut leather and wood.

-

Blazing red hair, nearly imperceptible against the raging fires as she swung an axe- it took you a while to find any of the others.

Before you was fiery Tove, a tallish Viking girl-woman from a house named ‘Alfson,’ not so influential as it was just there and nearly forgotten. In it, she was like a polished gem among a lot of plain, unassuming stones. She was also a member of your peer group, aged older by about nearly a winter. She’d been born in the warmer month, when the sun was at its hottest and the earth was at its greenest.

You settled by her with crossed arms, close enough to be recognized as part of the group and yet not close enough to hint towards any one specific alliance. 

It was the darkest of nights above yet the fires rendered it light as day. You tried your hardest not to inhale any of the soot as you watched the rest -the two of four, really- fooling, knocking into each other with rough shoulders as you worked where it really mattered.

Your peer group was a large one. The number of you here was only a smallish fraction of a whole, the rest drawn away in the moment by other troubles and politics.

They’d grown complacent in the chaos, used to the raging fires and battle as you all were, carelessly leaving the fires around to burn and eat away at everything. You kept yourself still and casual in spite of it, knowing that, here, words and tussles were just as dangerous as the rock-shattering jaws of any beast.

Brigading was a task born more to temper the fires of the eager younger men more than it was to assure the sanctity of the village, though no task was without its uses- more often than not, however, you all ended up taking up a weapon and battling to your own ends.

Still, you took it seriously. 

You’d not so much been invited into the brigade as you’d one day picked up a bucket and started helping along in silence, though you probably would have been asked along eventually. 

Approval from the others had been slow to garner and yet it was strong, anchoring- you’d no intention of trying to shake it, though you believed it would be hard to.

With the thick wooden handle lying clenched within one hand, you stopped above the smooth, round top of a viking helmet, resting your foot against it as if you were at the edge of a cliff with a sword.

You’d rather be, at least in the day, when the smoke would be blown out and the air fresh and clear.

“-Codswallop!” The one with the protestant words was Duckmaw, who belonged to a set of intimidating burly arms and short-cropped, burned blonde-ish hair typically hidden under a helmet that had made him look bald, soot darkened face scratched and laying posed under your fuzzy brown boot. 

He was unusually brawny and bold for his breed but was also just as soft- he was an Ingerman. Ingermans, though bustingly fierce as any other Viking, also tended to be the most tempered.

“You lot are all the same- tubby poets, you are!” Bjorner spoke back with sharper words. He was the second, and a Thorston, though his second name, Evenson, did not quite match his ties. He also didn’t quite stand on par with his blood, a bit thicker and more prone to jumping into battle than the rest of his clan, who preferred a good bit of taunting first. 

His family was a branch-off- one of many, as there tended to be with the Thorstons. “Gooey hearts and even weaker swords.”

“Your words are of poor taste, though I’d expect no less from a bastard!” Duckmaw shrugged aggressively forwards, jerking away, half turning before he thought to face Bjorner again, stepping closer this time. He looked quite silly with his rounder, younger face and slightly more plump body, standing nearly chest-to-chest with a man who was about two winners his senior.

Absent from your lot were a Hilde and an Arne, who was a plump and tall, honorable nearly-man with blonde hair who was suspiciously absent. Away in a fashion that remained unexplained or pondered was a Jorunn, Frode and Hjerson and a Njal.

“Agh, the lot of them,” Trove spoke appealingly, panting slightly, having brought herself to your side, nudging you in the shoulder. She was thicker than you by about a half and a great deal taller, so her elbow landed more against the top of it than along the side, “We womenfolk know better, yes?”

You gave her a skeptical, apathetic eye before turning your attention back to the conflict, standing still and firm- she hadn’t knocked you hard enough to unbalance you though she had given you quite the hard jab, albeit half of it must have been without intention, the other half with surety and mild competition.

Trove didn’t take so much offense, probably more used to your silence and your stoic behavior now than before, when she also used to grace you with a gruff, judging eye.

“I’m no bastard!” Bjorner barked deeply, squaring his shoulders and stepping forwards again. You couldn’t make out all of it, the sound of splintering wood and the white noise of cooking everything raging for but a moment. “But at least my mother’s no manky whore!”

Gritting his teeth, Duckmaw didn’t back down, even as the thin brown furs still attached to Bjorner’s leather overcoat brushed up against his jaw. His arm- the one facing you- twitched up and down as if he’d wanted to lift it, meaty fists clenching uproariously. “Don’t speak of her that way, you-! You-!”

Your even face did nothing to hide your apathy, even as your eyes stayed trained on them.

Their argument went beyond petty bonds and snippish words- it was, in truth, not their argument at all- more an argument of their house, monoliths of Vikings to which they were of little consequence. It was some tiff over land and the excuse was woodstock. The conflict had grown itself into a mighty feud. 

“Tis the hobby of fools, to spend all their time arguing about their mamies,” Tove said, her freed red hair still doing wonders to blend her in with the fires, some sticking to skin and face, red, pale and slick with sweat like fish’s skin.

You nearly rolled your eyes. As you did, you caught something from the corner of your eye.

“How’ve you lot been doing?” You heard, nearly lost under the crackling of fires and crumbling of houses, the sound of battle-cry off in the distance. He had a plaintive, respectable voice, still somehow smoothe even under the assault of smoke and ash, all male and deep. 

…Ah. Here came the cavalry with a bucket of his own.

You graced swept blonde hair with a nod, what should have been wheat made russet by soot and fire, bursting from the back of Arne’s head where the front was covered by a metal mask- a hazard, as it was, metal being prone to heat and melt under the vicious might of dragon fire. 

You suspected, in a few years, he might have one mighty burn scar running down the side of his face- if he made it out of the whole ordeal alive, as it was. 

His clothes were torn and he sported a bloody gash on one arm- he’d gotten caught up in some battle, then. He was the only one of them who’d already been accepted by the warriors as one of their own, who’d taken up a sword with quiet determination as the rest of them stayed managing buckets.

You occasionally joined him- you hadn’t received any fuss either, and yet… Well, the others needed managing… Watching, more than anything.

He nodded back at you as you levied up your bucket, grasping it by the bottom.

You huffed a breath of hair, blowing away a heavy tuft of soot as it threatened to hit you in the face, unusually large yet very thin, almost enough to be called a burnt wood scrap.

“-That’s what I thought,” Bjorner said maliciously, distantly- he’d jerked forward, and during the time you’d been distracted, Duckmaw, younger and more naive, had faltered. 

You stilled. It didn’t matter so much who was what in this minor, petty battle of wills. It wouldn’t change the outcome. 

It was only by an odd fluke of politics that you’d ended up here, a fisher’s girl from nowhere island, and so while not at all illicit in origin, you were no better than a bastard. 

Here, in this world of blood and fire there was no room for the girl in the woods. You knew that with a quiet, simmering surety, painfully aware of the small square booklet in your back pocket, padding against your thigh as you moved, fresh leather delicately held shut with a clasp, pressing deeply the dulling, colored faces of soft, pressed flowers.

[theconfuzzeleddoge]

doomsday day 3: tooth

it was really funny that time in book one where toothless briefly wasn't

[junkydoodle]

same toothless