#fish hiccups

[thereweredragonshere]

We are NOT brushing over that little reunion scene between Hiccup and his dad in Portrait of Hiccup as a Buff Young man

LOOK HOW HAPPY HE IS!!! AHHHH

And the just the whole scene of him flinging him around in the air C’MON WE ALL KNOW HICCUP SECRETLY LOVED IT

AND THE HANDS AND THE PHYSICAL AFFECTION FOR TOUCH STARVED LITTLE GREMLIN BOY ARAGAHAGAHGRRRRR

AND THIS. THIS IS MY SECOND FAVOURITE SCREEN GRAB OF ALL TIME. THEY ARE SO ADORABLE.

I HAVE AN ACTUAL ISSUE WITH PARENT CHILD RELATIONSHIPS. IT IS ACTUALLY THE CUTEDT THING EVER. AND STOICK IS FUCKING KNEELING DOWN AND HE’S STILL TALLER THAN HICCUP

[elshe]

✨“Can we keep them?!”✨

Except Hiccup and Astrid are the ones who would ask to keep them lol

Maybe just Hiccup actually.

idk these two kiddies are sooo cute. I love them.

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

okay but hiccup and snotlout are totally the type of cousins to just randomly enter each others room, say something mildly disturbing, and leave without closing the door

[saturnniidae]

Thinking about how the dragons canonically help with fishing by kind of herding them to the nets but like imagine what that'd mean for whaling and hunting.

Like during that rob/dob era adjustment period, everyone's excited about the increase in food due to the raids ending and dragons now assisting them, but imagine one day one of them (Hookfang) just. Brings back a whole whale to try and one-up the other dragons.

But of course, they can't have that so then the others start doing it as well (some even getting confused and bringing back sharks instead). Too often, actually. Berk's store houses are, for the first time in recent history, almost overflowing with cured meats and the like. They're set for the winter, and its left to poor Hiccup to try and reign it in so the local whale, shark and seabird populations aren't completely devastated.

[honeymilkbubbletea]

Is this NSFW? 🤔

Anyways, she's just a girl leave her alone 😔

I think I'll make it a running gag for Astrid to always be positioned in a way to provide censore

Oh, and don't worry, I AM actually cooking some lore drawings for this AU

I just have to get the silly out of my system first ~

[wickedcriminal]

An alternative direction for Stryke Out where Elder gets stuck in a cage, Toothless is the top competitor for more than a few dragon fights, and— what's this? By Thor, there's a colorful mood dragon here, and she can speak Norse! What are the odds of that?

Little does Elder know that wherever this mood dragon is, Camicazi will be close behind.

[writingforfishes]

Pathogen but ALSO!

For an amphibian-based species (Think A.be S.apien via H.ellb.oy), hiccups caused by either exiting the water quickly, a different oxygen concentration in water (or PH) than they're used to, or a condition of the swim bladder that is affected by hiccups causing them to have to get out of the water to cure them or wait them out.

I figure with a dual breathing/swimming system in a humanoid body, organs might be awkwardly placed especially if the person is not organically made (an experimental creature as opposed to an alien race, though it could go for alien races as well).

Their diaphragm is probably dual usage for extracting oxygen from water and providing muscular control for breathing air. So, I imagine it might be more easily irritated and prone to trying to enact a water breathing technique when outside of water.

I mean, I'm "writing for fishes", so I guess this idea fits my brand?

[aldoodles]

March - Midnight

[a-celestial-dream]

Welcome back to 🌈✨The Dragon Riders as quotes/conversations my friends/family and I have had✨🌈

Hiccup: hey, you remember that fishing trip I went on when I was, like, seven or something?

Stoick: yes, why?

Hiccup: was that you who took me? Or Gobber?

Stoick: it was Gobber.

Hiccup: huh. I think I replaced Gobber with you in my memories, because I don’t remember him being anywhere with me that day.

Gobber: was I that insignificant to you?

Hiccup: apparently.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I want to shut Hiccup up with a kiss when he's upset about something.

End of the statement

Thistle, Scout and Scottish Bluebells pt 3

Pairing: Grumpy!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,942

You need some cheering up.

Tags:  httyd 1, aged up, au, time travel, bitter reader, bitter hiccup, cheery reader

<Previous -

You stared down into a shallow bucket, eyeing the slimy, slightly smelly body of a small fish as it bobbed with each one of your steps. It looked almost sick, nearly scraps, made slightly warm by the rising sun’s heat. It also smelt; its scales were flaking and somewhat muddy-looking, though you knew it was mostly clean- cosmetically, of course. For you, parasites were a constant worry.

  Your hands, now much more calloused than they ever had been, clutched at the thin, metal bucket’s handle. One of your sleeves had gotten stuck there as you trudged your way back from the docks and the one measly fish stand there. Getting it untangled was proving to be quite the task.

It was an old world that you’d been sent to, with untamed mountains and riled seas. It was unpredictable and dangerous, just as emotionless as every facet of it raged and roared. Each toil was made herculean, long and arduous not just by the times but by the sheer might and mystery of everything.

There was safety even in the dangers of the modern world, because at least the dangers were known, if not expected. More explored, less left up to the imagination- the untamed world was cruel, the might and anger of the ancient man even moreso.

As interesting as the loðinn-something-or-others were -or the Hairy Hooligans, as it was- they were a cagey, brutish people, even starved, or perhaps especially because they had been starved. 

The inhabitants of Berk were sparse and few in between, plagued by famine. What Vikings hadn’t been picked off by the dragons had been killed by the outcasts and thrown into the very literal fires by their very own brothers-in-arms.

Now, most of the huts were empty, some with the wood obviously burnt and rotting everything from the inside out.

You leaned over your knees, sitting on an old, unbalanced stool.

Their names were all stupid, anal- fitting, for a guy like Hiccup, but perhaps you were biased.

You heard the sound of shuffling leaves and dirt from outside right before the front door of the shack was pushed open, creaking and scraping against the dirt floor.

You knew who it was, marching inwards with semi-soft steps, muttering darkly to himself. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so stormy. It made you apprehensive, a tight grimace pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You listened as the sound of footfall migrated from soft ground to harder ground. You were even able to make out a stray ”-eta-leg-” something, which might have had something to do with fish. You almost thought to ask, but he was quite typically very apathetic towards most of your colloquialisms. 

There was a pause. “...What are you doing?”

“Making, ah, dinner.” You said, glaring up at him defiantly, your hands falling downwards.

“...Right.” he said, eyeing the sloshing water-bucket.

You grimaced. He could probably smell it- so deep in the woods, the hollowness of salt against the bark, mulch and scattered leaves was probably strong. Bringing water along was also perhaps not so good for the dead fish. Damp things rotted faster and made already smelly things that much worse.

How else were you going to boil out salt, if not with seawater? You weren’t sure if it was going to work but now was more of a time than any to try.

He grunted as he slung the heavy pack of whose-whatsit off his shoulder and dropped it heavily onto the ground, lanky shoulders flagging as he then dropped himself onto the wooden one-blanket-ed frame of his own bed.

He would sleep, maybe, until the next day. You weren’t very versed on his schedule. To you, it seemed to be odd and erratic. He didn’t do much besides slog his way to the forge and back and be an ass.

It wasn’t as if there really was a reason to go into town.

“The arena.” You announced, after a moment of hesitation, into the dark silence.

You’d been into the forge maybe once, leafing through haphazard papers like office files, parchment mostly blank and slightly scribbled over, hard to read in the darkness. Desperate. Hurried.

It wasn’t too different from the one in the woods but there were a few more stall doors and also it was surrounded by huts, which, in a way, made it all the more eerie.

 Out the forge window, briefly, you’d spotted a man, handlebar mustache, not unlike the kind you’d expect on the face of a biker with prickly cactus-looking scruff littering the round dip of his chin. 

You shifted, minding slightly dry, already wilted plants. They had been hastily shoved into your pockets. Modern seams had torn quickly, forcing you into shambled hand-me-downs. 

Hiccup grunted.

You huffed, looking up at him from downturned eyelids. You spoke, “You’re bringing me there.”

He walked past you and stopped just before his bed on the far side of the shack behind, much too long at the legs and the wooden supports at its base much too far apart. He also lacked anything to cover the holes between them, meaning that if you laid at the wrong angle, your bent elbows would dip between the boards. He grunted again, slinging one arm over his face irritatedly, “Do it yourself.”

You smothered a brief spike of irritation, forcing down a scowl. Do it yourself.

Soft highlights made up of the waning sun-glow bounced off nearly imperceptible hairs on the back of his hand. You kept quiet for a moment longer, deep in rumination. It was quite odd to notice something like that- most particularly because you wanted to pick all of them off and then punch him over the head.

Since the beginning, you’d been forced to learn how to cobble up your own dinner, your own bedding and everything else. He hadn’t helped, not really. Everything you had was your own doing, besides maybe the odd repair shack repair or so.

You really only existed under the same roof. If he tried to kick you out, well…

The only thing that had held you together was the idea that maybe, if he hadn’t been born and raised there, or if he hadn’t become so jaded and heavily disillusioned, he might have been good company, or maybe that was just pity talking. You didn’t know much about him, nor had you seen anything clever or brave and bright come from him yet. 

Optimism was a hard thing to carry, and in times like thesis, where you had nothing more than frustration to buzz at the tips of your fingers and an empty belly, you found that all your faux goodwill was crumbling. You felt it deep in your chest, nestled right where all your spine’s nerves speared into your heart.

Saying ‘it felt like a dream,’ had never carried the right connotations- it couldn’t fully encompass all of the things you felt or the way you needed what you were sure wasn’t even real; a place where hard ground was limited to the outside, where you had a soft mattress to cater to the line of your back, the way bumpy asphalt felt beneath your sneakers or the way an old, hot car bounced over ancient potholes in abandoned roads- something deep in you reached for it, and yet all of those solid things passed through your fingers like hot smoke.

Your real life now was much colder. You hadn’t known who he was at first, or even for weeks after. If you had been told about any of this beforehand, you might have expected him to look like a cartoon, but with the uneven stubble at his chin and the not nearly as aesthetic a shape to his face, he really was just a man.

You opened your mouth to speak as he turned away, showing his back to you as he faced the wall, but then you caught yourself. You were going to call a name, any name, but he didn’t like those, not really- he was quite snappish when it came to those, in fact.

Names were tricky things, of course.

You felt that you were walking a thin line, at times; balancing over a tightrope a million miles up from the ground like you’d been thrust into some stupid, old, gaudy cartoon. Which, you had been, and it was just as inane as you imagined.

Instead you listened to the sound of white noise and fabric-on-fabric as the slow rumbling of the forest faded into something that was almost silence. You heard yourself as you breathed and the bucket and the legs of your chair rattled under you. You heard your feet digging and making low noise against dirt.

You ignored a very pointed rock of the bed frame as he shifted. 

 You made a lot of noise, to say the least. You didn’t care, though you could practically feel the air grow stiffer as you struggled.

Finally, with a hard jerk, you were able to tug your sleeve out from the handle and the bucket. You could hear the sound of fabric tearing as you sat back just above the sound of shifting over the threadbare sheet behind you.

Feeling wholly satisfied with yourself, you grabbed the tail end of the fish, pulling it off the bucket with a splash. You pulled it into the air, listening to the sound of water sloshing as it settled, water sliding off bumpy skin in rivulets.

It was nasty- it felt nasty, as most fish did, and as if you could drop it at almost any moment. 

There was a small spit set up in the middle of the room like a rig, a shoddy smoke hole framed above it in the roof. As you shifted towards it, by accident, you kicked over your bucket, cursing under your breath

Your hands shot back down to the corners of your stool, calloused palms scraping against wood and scale, fish still clutched unpleasantly in one hand, wetting the edge of your sleeve as it rolled itself back down.

There was a heavy thump behind you, the sound of boot meeting ground and the loud, frustrated creaking of wood. It startled you as you stood and whipped around, your grip loosening- the fish flew out of your hand with  what was probably a lot more force than you expected, meeting Hiccup nearly lip-to-lip. 

Stubborn coughed and spat, fish slime glistening against the lower half of his face, “Can you- stop?”

You weren’t sure of any of the things that made up his voice and those rolling tones. Was it Scottish or Gaelic something, Norwegian, Danish or having something to do with the Swedes? Or was it a mix of all of the above?

All of their vowels were deep and hitting a sort of hard to reach tenor, Hiccup’s voice especially grated with all the nasal and grumpy worn-ness of all the burden of having to live in such an old time. 

Compared to the voices of everyone else, his was sort of high. It was not what you expected, watching an animated face through a gaudy screen. 

The berth of everything you lived through now made everything you’d known seem so much bigger. It made you sad… And angry. To say it lightly, you didn’t feel pity for… A lot of people. 

Seeing him choke on salt water and slime -If he’d ever made out with Astrid, whoever she was, here-  there was a joke to be made there, something about ‘macking on’ and mackerel. It made you happy.

“No.” You said, voice sounding not-very-dead or particularly serious.

[thatrandomblogsays]

That scene with Seasmoke and Addam is like HTTYD but if Toothless was the one trying to domestic Hiccup.

[fieriframes]

[Tangerine highways melt into the sky’s yawn. A typewriter sneezes as clouds pass it by. Coffee drips from the stars like melted crayons. The engine hums in tune with a laughing cactus. Bicycles race the wind, but the air wins on foot. A trumpet plays chess with a stray sandwich wrapper. Mountains hiccup, sending postcards to the sun. The diner serves infinity, sliced with butter. A train forgets its name, but keeps on going. The night swallows a sock and never spits it back.]

[tnteeth]

On this day. You get a whole doodle page. Cami is both a prey and a pred to me, an Enthusiastic one at that.

[lisasmind]

is there by any chance a rtte fanfic out there that is completed? preferably like a rewrite.

[writingforfishes]

Taking this fish thing and running with it, not unlike scissors.

Alright "Fishes", what are you?

I got this thing. Which I think is great cause salmon completely change their look halfway through their life when they go mate and die.

I relate more to the changing look part than the mating and dying part...obviously.

[evilwriter37]

HTTYD Fandom Week Day 3

@howtotrainyourdragonweek

Prompt: Fishing With Your Dragon

Rated: teen

Warnings: none

Relationships: Hiccup & Toothless

Word Count: 1,035

Summary: Toothless wants saltwater fish and Hiccup wants to get over his fear of the sea. Perfect timing, right?