#sick hiccup

[jackshiccup]

i cannot believe it’s taken my nth rewatch to notice how toothless’ wings unfurl directly behind hiccup during the new tail scene i am once again going insane

[paranorahjones]

okay so my theory about How To Train Your Dragon is that Astrid loved Hiccup WAYYYYY before the events of Romantic Flight but due to how the vikings lived in near constant combat with the dragons and young children/teens being forced to learn how to defend themselves and their families from an early age, she closed herself off to those feelings because by all accounts Hiccup was doomed to die. she resented how useless he was in combat, and she resented how much she cared. she was mean and dismissive to him out of fear that she would inevitably have to mourn him soon, and the colder she was the easier it would be.

then, miraculously, Hiccup begins to show some kind of competency in dealing with the dragons. but he's still not defending himself. he's finding strange ways of controlling them, but he's still as physically weak as he was before and Astrid can't see how whatever he's doing will help him outside of the training ring. great, you found out that Deadly Nadders like chin scratches. what about the Monstrous Nightmare burning down your house?

all this just makes Astrid angrier. how is Hiccup succeeding without violence? how will he survive without violence? violence is what she was born into. what does he know that she can't comprehend?

it's only later, when she sees that this scrawny beanpole of a boy has found a companion in a Night Fury, the embodiment of Death, that the miracle of him starts to make sense. he knows so much more than what any of their people can comprehend. and he wants so badly to show her. and for the first time ever, Astrid has hope.

i believe that this explains Astrid's comfortability and affection for Hiccup that she shows during and after the events of Romantic Flight, why she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek after everything. considering her personality, i don't think Romantic Flight shows her falling in love with Hiccup for the first time. i think she has loved him for a long time, and was too trapped in self-protection to allow herself to feel it (similar to Katniss regarding Peeta). but now she has hope that maybe he won't be ripped away from her. now she sees how much more there is to him, sees that he embodies Mercy stronger than Death.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Concept: Hiccup starting to overshare when he unconsciously realizes he has close human friends and accidentally sharing some very depressing facts about his life that he doesn't realize are actually depressing because he is so used to them and the Dragon Riders are just 😶

[geneslovee]

im thinking of changing my name again because im cursing at my 14 year old self who picked this random white name for me to live with now so ive been researching traditional Sakha names to get it right and apparently before the russians came and fucked up all our shit with their taxes and christianity, it was the norm for every Sakha person to change their name in their lifetime if not twice, then three times, and who knows if maybe more

basically, the newborn Sakha in the pre-christianity era would be given a name right away after birth like all kids, but once they grew up and started exhibiting individual traits they would be given a descriptive nickname which could describe pretty much anything about a person - positive characteristics, negative characteristics, physical quirks, facial features, body type, age, etc etc. one of my faves i found was Бэлтэкэ (Belteke) with means ‘round face’. would fit me ngl

anyways this is awesome news for me and i just wanted to share because learning that changing names throughout your life is historically super normal for our people makes me feel better about changing it for the second time, yknow? especially with the fact that those names were an individual’s descriptor. almost kind of like being trans and changing your name to one that suits you as a person better so you don’t walk around with the one that had nothing to do with who you really are on a personal level for your whole life

[monsterfangss]

I wish astrid carried her feral energy from the 1st movie into the rest of the series :/

also she would bridal carry Hiccup

[midnightcoffes]

httyd book 11 SPOILERS

I. I need more Snotlout lives AU's.

[ai-sickfics]

### Title - Overstuffed

Katsuki Bakugo hated feeling weak, and right now, sprawled on the couch with one hand on his overly full stomach and the other clutching a remote, he felt weak. He glared at the TV, though he wasn’t really watching it. He was too busy trying to suppress the gurgling and bubbling that churned unpleasantly in his belly.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. He was usually good about eating just enough, but the homemade curry Eijiro had made tonight had been too damn good. He’d gone for seconds and then thirds, not realizing how much he’d eaten until he was halfway through his fourth bowl. Now, he was paying the price.

The door to their shared flat clicked open, and Katsuki heard Eijiro’s familiar footsteps approaching. Katsuki let out a small, pained groan, trying to shift into a more comfortable position on the couch.

“Hey, Kats! You still on the couch?” Eijiro called as he walked into the living room, his voice full of energy. Katsuki turned his head just enough to see his boyfriend’s bright smile fade into a look of concern. “Whoa, what happened? You look… not great.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Katsuki grumbled. He hated showing any sign of weakness, but the sharp cramps in his stomach didn’t leave him much choice. He let out a strained sigh. “Ate too damn much.”

Eijiro’s expression softened immediately, and he quickly moved over to the couch, kneeling beside Katsuki. “Aw, Kats, you gotta pace yourself with my cooking,” he said, half-jokingly. He reached out and placed a warm hand on Katsuki’s abdomen, gently rubbing in slow, soothing circles. “Want me to help?”

Katsuki tried to brush him off at first, but another cramp made him wince. He nodded begrudgingly. “Yeah… just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Eijiro grinned, though he kept it gentle, knowing how much Katsuki hated being fussed over. “Wouldn’t dream of it, babe,” he said softly. He started massaging Katsuki’s stomach with a practiced touch, knowing just the right spots to ease the pressure. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

Katsuki let out a small burp, his cheeks tinged with pink from embarrassment. “Tch. That’s so embarrassing.”

Eijiro chuckled, continuing his gentle ministrations. “Nothing embarrassing about it, Kats. Better out than in, right? Besides, I’ve seen you burp louder than a damn truck engine when you want to.”

Katsuki huffed but didn’t argue. It was true; he just didn’t like feeling so… vulnerable. But as Eijiro’s warm hands worked their magic, pressing and rubbing in just the right way, Katsuki could feel some of the tightness easing up. Another burp slipped out, a bit louder this time, followed by a groan.

Eijiro smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to Katsuki’s forehead. “Good job, baby. Just let it out.” He rubbed a little harder, moving his hands to Katsuki’s lower back and pressing firmly. “How’s that feel?”

Katsuki relaxed into the touch, his muscles unwinding under Eijiro’s firm but gentle pressure. “Better,” he admitted, his voice a little softer than usual. “I just… I feel like crap.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eijiro’s voice was soothing, like a warm blanket wrapped around Katsuki’s frazzled nerves. “You just overdid it a little, but that’s okay. Happens to everyone.” He rubbed small circles into Katsuki’s lower back, then moved back to his stomach when another burp seemed to be stuck. “Just keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

Katsuki let out a shaky breath, feeling another wave of nausea roll through him. “Eijiro…” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Eijiro paused, his hands steadying on Katsuki’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said calmly. “Just lean back and take it easy. You’re not alone, alright? I’m right here.”

Katsuki did as he was told, leaning back against the couch cushions and closing his eyes. He focused on the rhythmic movement of Eijiro’s hands, the soft pressure easing the discomfort in his stomach. He let out another burp, followed by a deep sigh of relief. “Thanks, Eiji… for, y’know, putting up with this.”

Eijiro laughed softly, giving Katsuki’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to thank me, Kats. I’m your boyfriend. This is what we do.” He brushed a few strands of blonde hair away from Katsuki’s forehead, his touch lingering for a moment. “You’re my favorite hothead, and I’ll always be here when you need me, okay?”

Katsuki opened his eyes, meeting Eijiro’s gaze. For a moment, all the frustration and embarrassment faded away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that spread through his chest. “Yeah… okay,” he mumbled, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, idiot.”

Eijiro grinned, leaning down to give Katsuki a quick kiss on the lips. “Anytime, babe.” He went back to rubbing Katsuki’s stomach, his touch gentle and patient. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

Katsuki relaxed fully against the couch, finally allowing himself to enjoy the comfort of Eijiro’s presence.

-----

Eijiro turned with a look of concern as he noticed Katsuki’s breathing growing ragged once more. Katsuki clutched his stomach, his brows furrowing as another cramp twisted through his gut. He let out a shaky breath, his face tinged with a hint of green.

“Katsuki, you okay?” Eijiro asked softly, his hands still working their soothing motions along Katsuki’s stomach and back.

Katsuki didn’t answer right away. He clenched his teeth, trying to fight back a wave of nausea that rolled over him. A small, sudden hiccup escaped his lips, followed by another, and then another—each one making his chest feel tighter and more uncomfortable.

“Shit…” Katsuki hissed, his hand pressing harder against his stomach. The hiccups grew stronger, and with each one, a sharp, small burp bubbled up from his throat. It wasn’t relieving; it only made his stomach feel heavier, like it was filled with rocks. “Eiji… these hiccups are killing me.”

Eijiro’s brows knit together as he watched Katsuki struggle. “You’ve got this, Kats. Just try to breathe,” he said, shifting closer to offer better support. He began to rub his back in firm, slow circles, trying to coax out the air trapped in Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki tried to focus on Eijiro’s calming voice, but every hiccup-burp that came up only made him feel more nauseous. His face tightened, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to will his body to calm down. But the pressure was building, and each attempt to burp made his chest feel like it was being squeezed by a vice. A particularly loud hiccup turned into a burp that caught in his throat, making him gasp sharply.

“Ugh… hurts,” Katsuki groaned, his voice strained. He rubbed at his chest, trying to dislodge the stuck air, but it wouldn’t budge. The discomfort was turning into pain, and Katsuki’s usual resilience was starting to crumble. “This is so fucking annoying…”

Eijiro kept his hand moving along Katsuki’s back, firm but gentle, trying to help in any way he could. “I know, Kats. I’m right here, okay? Just lean forward a bit,” Eijiro instructed, guiding Katsuki into a position that might help shift the air. “I’ve got you.”

Katsuki leaned forward, his forehead resting against Eijiro’s shoulder as another hiccup-burp jolted through him. This one stuck halfway, making his eyes water from the sudden, sharp pain in his chest. He pounded a fist weakly against the couch, frustration bubbling up alongside the nausea.

Eijiro wrapped an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders, rubbing gentle but firm circles into his back, right between his shoulder blades. “Just take it slow, Kats. Breathe in… and out.” He pressed a little harder, his other hand rubbing Katsuki’s stomach. “You’re almost there.”

Katsuki’s breath hitched as he tried to follow Eijiro’s instructions, but the stuck burp just wouldn’t dislodge. It felt like it was lodged right under his ribs, sharp and unrelenting. He let out a low growl of frustration, his pride taking a hit along with his stomach. “Dammit, Eijiro, it won’t come out,” he groaned, his voice cracking slightly.

Eijiro didn’t let up, staying patient and focused. “You’re doing great, Kats. Just a little more.” He patted Katsuki’s back gently, then a little harder when the smaller burps got stuck, his hand soothing over the tense muscles. “It’s okay if it takes a bit. Just let it happen.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a deep, rumbling burp tore its way out of Katsuki’s chest, leaving him gasping for air. He slumped forward, the release of pressure almost dizzying. He panted, his body trembling slightly from the exertion, but at least the worst of the pain was gone.

Eijiro gave him a few more soothing pats, rubbing his back in long strokes. “There you go, babe. That was a big one,” he said, his voice filled with relief. He gently tilted Katsuki’s chin up, making sure he was okay. “Feel a little better?”

Katsuki nodded weakly, his face still flushed but his breathing starting to even out. “Yeah… a bit,” he muttered, though the nausea still lingered, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.

Eijiro smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s temple. He continued rubbing his back and stomach, slower now, letting Katsuki catch his breath. “We’ll just take it easy the rest of the night, okay? You don’t have to be tough all the time.”

Katsuki leaned into Eijiro’s touch, letting the warmth and comfort wash over him. He still felt queasy, and the occasional hiccup-burp would bubble up, but with Eijiro by his side, it was bearable. He rested his head against Eijiro’s chest, closing his eyes as he tried to relax.

“Thanks… Eiji,” he whispered, his voice soft and grateful. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?”

Eijiro chuckled, his arms wrapping around Katsuki in a gentle embrace. “I know, babe. And I’m your idiot.”

------

Eijiro continued to soothe Katsuki, rubbing his back and gently pressing his hand into Katsuki’s stomach. For a while, it seemed like the worst was over. Katsuki’s breathing steadied, and he managed to relax a bit. But then, the discomfort returned, more intense this time. Katsuki's stomach churned violently, and he felt the telltale twinges of nausea building up once more.

The hiccups returned, more forceful and erratic, each one bringing a sharp, painful burp that seemed to lodge itself deeper in his chest. Katsuki’s face twisted with pain as the hiccups turned into a constant, jarring rhythm of burps that just wouldn’t come out completely. Each attempt left him gasping and clutching at his stomach, his body shaking with the effort.

“Eijiro…” Katsuki’s voice was strained, a mix of frustration and distress. He leaned heavily against Eijiro, his breathing ragged and uneven. “It’s worse… hurts so much…”

Eijiro’s expression turned serious, his hands moving more firmly across Katsuki’s back. “Hang in there, Kats. I’ve got you. Just focus on my voice, okay?” His tone was soothing, but his eyes were filled with worry. He continued to rub Katsuki’s back in slow, steady motions, hoping to ease some of the discomfort.

Katsuki let out a particularly violent hiccup-burp that seemed to get stuck halfway up his throat. He gasped for air, his hand gripping Eijiro’s shirt as he tried to ease the pressure. “Can’t… can’t get it out…” he choked out, his voice coming out in strangled bursts.

Eijiro pressed a little harder on Katsuki’s back, trying to help dislodge the trapped air. “You’re doing great, Kats. Just keep breathing. It’ll pass.”

But the discomfort only intensified. Katsuki’s stomach was in knots, and the constant hiccup-burps were wearing him down. He felt the rising nausea and could no longer hold back. He leaned forward abruptly, his face paling as he struggled to hold back the inevitable.

“Gotta—” Katsuki started, but the words were lost as his stomach lurched violently. He bent over, clutching his stomach, and finally, the nausea overcame him. He retched, but instead of immediate relief, only a string of burps came out, each one louder and more forceful than the last. His body heaved and shook, but no substantial vomit came up, just a frustrating series of gasps and burps that seemed to make things worse.

Eijiro quickly moved to support Katsuki, guiding him to lean over a trash bin just in case. His hands were gentle yet firm on Katsuki’s back, trying to provide whatever comfort he could while Katsuki struggled with the overwhelming sensation. “It’s okay, Kats. Just let it out. You don’t have to hold back.”

Katsuki’s body was trembling as he continued to heave, his face scrunched in pain. The burps were now accompanied by a deep, throbbing ache in his chest, and it felt like his stomach was tied in knots. “Can’t… can’t get it out,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His face was flushed and covered in sweat, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Eijiro rubbed Katsuki’s back with a steady rhythm, trying to soothe him. “I know, it’s tough. Just keep focusing on my touch. You’ll get through this.”

Katsuki took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and quell the nausea. Each burp was followed by a groan of frustration as it seemed to get stuck in his chest, causing sharp pangs of pain. “Feels like it’s stuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Katsuki’s stomach gave a final, heaving lurch, and a small amount of vomit came up. He groaned deeply, the relief mingling with lingering discomfort. The pressure in his chest eased slightly, though the nausea was still present. He slumped back against Eijiro, panting heavily.

Eijiro immediately began cleaning up, moving with practiced ease despite his own concern. He handed Katsuki a cool, damp washcloth for his face and continued to rub his back, soothingly. “You did great, Kats. Just take it easy now. It’s over, and you’re okay.”

--------

Eijiro continued to support Katsuki, his concern growing as Katsuki’s condition worsened. Despite his efforts, the nausea and discomfort remained intense, and Katsuki’s body was still caught in a relentless cycle of hiccup-burps and retching.

Katsuki’s breathing grew ragged, and he began to gag uncontrollably. Each time he tried to catch his breath, he was interrupted by another violent heave, his stomach refusing to settle. The sounds of his retching were punctuated by a series of burps that seemed to get stuck in his chest, causing him to gasp and choke.

Eijiro’s heart ached at the sight of Katsuki’s struggle. He moved closer, one hand steadying Katsuki’s back while the other held his head gently. “You’re okay, Kats. Just breathe through it,” he said, his voice firm but soothing.

Katsuki’s face was pale, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and exhaustion. The continued gagging and retching left him feeling drained, and the sensation of not being able to catch his breath was making him panic. “Can’t—” he choked out, his voice trembling as he tried to catch his breath between bouts of vomiting.

Eijiro’s grip tightened reassuringly, and he gently guided Katsuki’s head down, helping him stay as comfortable as possible. “You’re doing great, Katsuki. Just focus on my voice. You’re safe here,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

Katsuki’s body was shaking with the effort, and the fear of not being able to breathe properly made him panic even more. His vision started to blur, and he felt a faintness overtaking him. “Eijiro… can’t breathe…” he gasped, his voice barely audible as he struggled to stay conscious.

Eijiro acted quickly, keeping his hand firmly on Katsuki’s back while gently urging him to take slow, deep breaths. “It’s okay, Kats. I’m right here. Just breathe with me,” he instructed, his tone soothing and urgent. He demonstrated deep, measured breaths, hoping to help Katsuki focus and regain control.

Despite Eijiro’s efforts, Katsuki’s panic continued to escalate. He was on the edge of choking, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Eijiro could see the desperation in Katsuki’s eyes, and his own heart raced with concern. “You’re okay, Kats. I’ve got you. Just keep trying to breathe,” he said, his voice full of unwavering support.

Finally, Katsuki managed to heave up a significant amount of vomit, the pressure on his chest easing slightly. The cycle of gagging and retching continued, but with each wave, the discomfort lessened. Eijiro remained by his side, rubbing Katsuki’s back and whispering reassurances into his ear.

As Katsuki’s breathing began to stabilize, Eijiro helped him sit up slowly, his hands remaining steady on Katsuki’s shoulders. “That’s it, Kats. You’re doing great,” Eijiro said softly. He wiped Katsuki’s face with the cool washcloth, his expression a mix of relief and tenderness.

Katsuki’s breathing was still uneven, and he felt weak, but the panic had begun to subside. He leaned heavily against Eijiro, his body trembling from exhaustion. “Sorry… for… all this,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

Eijiro shook his head gently, brushing a strand of Katsuki’s hair away from his damp forehead. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m here for you, no matter what,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “We’ll get you feeling better. Just rest now.”

Katsuki closed his eyes, leaning into Eijiro’s comforting embrace. The world around him felt distant as he focused on the steady rhythm of Eijiro’s breathing and the soothing presence of his boyfriend. Despite the lingering nausea and discomfort, he felt a deep sense of comfort and safety in Eijiro’s arms.

Eijiro continued to hold Katsuki close, his touch gentle and reassuring as he helped him through the final waves of nausea. “Just breathe easy, Kats. I’m right here,” he whispered, his hands never leaving Katsuki’s back.

As Katsuki’s breathing slowly returned to normal, the pain and panic began to fade. He rested against Eijiro, feeling the warmth of his support and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time in what felt like hours, Katsuki allowed himself to fully relax, knowing that Eijiro would be there to help him through whatever came next.

-------

The next morning, Katsuki Bakugo awoke feeling much better. The nausea had largely subsided, leaving only the dull ache of a bloated stomach and a persistent, uncomfortable pressure. He lay in bed for a few moments, mentally preparing himself to face the day. His body was still recovering from the ordeal, and every few minutes, a burp would escape his lips, a lingering reminder of the previous night’s overindulgence.

He shuffled into the bathroom, leaning against the sink as he tried to ease the bloating. His stomach was still distended, and every burp that came up felt like it was only halfway out, stuck in his chest and causing him discomfort. Eijiro, who had been up and moving around quietly, noticed Katsuki’s struggle and quickly made his way to the bathroom.

“Morning, Kats,” Eijiro said softly, his voice full of concern and affection. He could see Katsuki’s discomfort and immediately went to his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Katsuki grumbled, though his discomfort was evident in his expression. He let out a loud burp, which was followed by a pained sigh. “Stomach’s still messed up. Can’t stop burping.”

Eijiro nodded, his expression turning sympathetic. “Let me help,” he said, placing a comforting hand on Katsuki’s bloated stomach. “Just lean on the sink. I’ll see if I can help get those burps out.”

Katsuki did as instructed, resting his hands on the sink and leaning slightly forward. Eijiro’s warm hands began to rub Katsuki’s stomach in slow, gentle circles, applying just the right amount of pressure. The rhythmic motion was soothing, and Katsuki felt the tension in his stomach begin to ease slightly.

“Burps won’t come out all the way,” Katsuki muttered, trying to suppress another round of burps. “Feels like there’s still some air stuck.”

Eijiro continued his comforting motions, moving his hands with a bit more pressure. “Just relax, Kats. Sometimes it takes a bit of time to get everything moving again,” he said soothingly. “I’ll keep rubbing. Just focus on my touch and try to let the air out.”

Katsuki’s stomach gurgled and churned as Eijiro’s hands worked their magic. Another burp escaped his lips, this one slightly louder but still leaving him feeling uneasy. He groaned softly, feeling the pressure in his chest. “Some of these burps are stuck in my chest. It’s driving me nuts.”

Eijiro’s touch was steady and comforting, his fingers applying gentle pressure to the areas where Katsuki felt the most discomfort. “I know, Kats. It’ll get better. Just keep breathing and try to let it out as much as you can.” He rubbed Katsuki’s stomach in small, circular motions, then shifted to patting his back gently to help dislodge any trapped air.

Katsuki focused on Eijiro’s reassuring presence and the steady rhythm of his hands. Slowly, more burps began to come up, each one providing a small bit of relief. Eijiro continued to provide support, his touch both calming and effective. “That’s it. Just let it all out,” he encouraged softly.

After a while, the burps began to come more easily, and Katsuki’s bloated stomach started to feel less tense. He still had occasional burps, but the constant discomfort was diminishing. Katsuki let out a deep sigh of relief as Eijiro’s hands continued to soothe his stomach.

“Thanks, Eiji,” Katsuki said, his voice quieter now, filled with genuine gratitude. “I feel a lot better now.”

Eijiro smiled warmly, continuing his gentle rubs. “Anytime, Kats. You’re always going to be my top priority, no matter what. Just take it easy today and don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

Katsuki nodded, his expression softening as he leaned into Eijiro’s touch. “Yeah, I’ll take it easy. Thanks for sticking by me, even when I’m a mess.”

Eijiro’s smile widened, his affection clear. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” he said, pressing a quick, comforting kiss to Katsuki’s temple. “Now, let’s get you feeling as good as possible. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

With Eijiro’s continued support, Katsuki felt the last of his discomfort easing away. He allowed himself to relax, leaning on Eijiro as they both made their way out of the bathroom. The day was looking brighter, and with Eijiro by his side, Katsuki knew he’d be back to his usual self in no time.

[westwiiind]

the thing about the hidden world is that even if berk could hypothetically win against every single future attacker, should they have to endure an endless cycle of attacks at all? even if berk as a whole wins every battle and war, do you really think there’s no consequence? no price to be paid? no casualties, no loss of resources or infrastructure? even in a series sanitized enough for young audiences, this notion is shown to be untrue. hiccup/berk wins every war yet there is almost always a price. it’s established RIGHT off the bat in the first movie. “those ships never come back.” “see? old village, lots and lots of new houses.” “they’ve killed hundreds of us!” “winter is almost here, and i have an entire village to feed!” (cue dragons flying off with all their livestock). right at the very beginning, we’re introduced to the idea that the cycle of violence overall is unsustainable regardless of the outcome of any individual confrontation. so i don’t understand how so many ppl hate the hidden world when hiccup did in that movie exactly what he did in the first one: he saw a way to end the cycle of violence, so he did it, even though it upended the way of life of his people. in both movies. he would be a bad leader if he allowed the cycle of warfare to continue indefinitely just bc he felt that berk would always win, and just bc the alternative would be too emotionally painful to consider. because even if berk miraculously won every time, battles aren’t free. i think some ppl forget that just bc it’s presented to u in a kid-friendly way. the price of dragon-berkian unity was an endless bombardment of hunters and conquerors. what kind of chief would hiccup be to allow that cycle of violence to continue? what kind of peacekeeper would he be to allow that to continue?

[1000dactyls]

i want to consume your art into my very soul by the way. it’s amazing and you draw them so well!!!

also yeah i love seeing your headcannons and ideas about trans astrid because i feel like we don’t get that a lot in the fandom. it’s very interesting to see how you perceive astrid’s growth as a character from building herself into the most fearsome warrior of her generation and that all being torn down, and how she finally has her girlhood but doesn’t know what to do with it

anyway ty for reading this rambly ask!!

hello i am so sorry for having this sit in my inbox for so long!!!! I really wanted to think of a good response to this ;___; it means a lot that you enjoy my art and how i draw them. I’m still working on aligning the dragon riders’ younger teen selves to how they appear in httyd2, i think, but hopefully drawing more of them will mean that their shape language also begins to come naturally to me…. I HOPE……….

i think trans astrid having 3 fics on ao3 is hugely a shame and the lack of it in the fandom makes me so sad. not that i think a lot of astrid characterizations are the best, anyways… astrid is one of those characters that i think is hard to nail down, in part because canon itself doesn’t really know what to do with her — is she the girl that the hero gets? is she the heart of the team? is she a girlboss? is she a damsel? the series kind of loses itself here trying to answer these questions. but i think the most compelling and consistent narrative about astrid is her coming of age: how she navigates being a member of a community shaped overwhelmingly by loss now faced with sudden abundance

and i think trans astrid in specific is one of the most fun lens you could explore that arc through, in part because you get to explore the httyd-verse with questions like “how are queer people who are not the child of the chief of berk treated” (not that berk, in my head, cares all that much for what bits you’re born with). but if astrid’s most consistent piece of core characterization is her finding her way to adulthood when she hasn’t quite fleshed out what childhood means to her, then giving another layer to her finding out what exactly “girlhood” means in all senses of the word can only be a fruitful experience.

at least, that’s the way i view it! especially since astrid is so much the it girl on berk — except berk’s it girl can’t cook and puts on smudgy dark eye makeup and wears skirts that seem impossible to sit in and reaches up to touch the clouds that always seemed impossible to reach. so in some ways, astrid’s figured out bits and pieces of what girlhood means to her. now she just has to figure out the rest of it

[jackshiccup]

me and oomf can’t stop laughing at the thought of jack attempting to escape the clutches of bedrest

[endenope]

THIS DESTROYED ME SO HARD IT GAVE ME A HICCUP AHAGVSSHSBX

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Sick

Summary: Written for Day 15 of Augusnippets 2024. Set in a Modern AU, Sci-fi AU. Mind Full AU. Hiccup doesn't see the use in eating regularly.

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, Implied eating disorder

Rating: Teen and Up

Dead Dove: No

Words: 458

Prompts: Starvation, throwing up

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Fishlegs, Astrid

Pairing: /

Author's Notes: Finished the entire Augusnippets challenge! Got every prompt up to day 31 ready to post!!! Never finished a fic challenge this fast before! 😁

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

Hiccup hates feeling hungry. He hates it. It’s about the only reason why he misses not sensing his own body.

It’s like teeth are gnawing on his stomach as it rumbles and growls. It hurts, he feels sick, lightheaded. He eats when he has to, what he has to, why is it asking for more? He didn’t have this trouble back home.

Toothless rumbles in worry, nuzzling his palm as he sits on a bench, his burns almost healed. The two of them are in the gym of the base, Mala promised him that he could see at least his Night Fury if he behaved and he did.

Not outside, though. Because if he figured out where the Defenders were located, it would only be a matter of time before Valka would know where they kept him and his dragons.

Toothless can feel that he’s sick to his stomach. He asks him what’s wrong, he can’t just hear his every thought like he used to. Hiccup holds himself, unable to tell if he’s just hungry or if he’s actually getting sick.

“Hiccup, are you okay?” Fishlegs asks, just shy of placing a hand on his shoulder. Because of course they’re not alone. Just because they let him see his dragon, it doesn’t mean he can leave his room without supervision. It’s locked from the outside for a reason.

“I’m fine,” that’s his answer seconds before he has to stop himself from throwing up.

-XOXOX-

It was all bile.

“When was the last time you ate?!” Astrid asks him, his visit with Toothless cut short, although the Night Fury almost became violent when it became clear they wanted to separate them.

“I eat when I need to!” Hiccup snaps back at her. He can feel her criticism coming from a mile away.

“And when is that?” As the two of them argue, her friends stand just outside of his room and listen. It’s not like they keep an eye on when or what he eats.

Arms crossed, he refuses to answer. He still feels sick, but at the same time, his stomach is still trying to eat itself.

“I eat when I need to.”

Like when his special drugs made him so sick he couldn’t keep anything down for weeks and weeks on end and they had to force feed him the bare minimum just to keep him alive. He just didn’t want to eat anymore. And with his senses shoved to a corner deep inside, it’s not like food has taste.

When he’s back with his mother, it’ll go back to having no taste.

“That’s not an answer,” Astrid is disappointed and simply turns away, done with his stubbornness for today.

It’s been two days since he last ate.

[sickklilsub]

i just woke up so nauseous that the burps almost made me throw up on myself. just.. so much gas is moving and i can’t even speak without an acid belch. it’s so bad i can feel the gas bubbles rumbles up and down my side, but i can’t let them out until i’m near the bathroom. oh god.

[tswwwit]

hi ik you don’t really do prompt rn but could we have some soft billdip hcs/drabble (or as soft as these two can get)? i’m a sucker for the way you write them and your works have genuinely helped me through the past weeks. even if not thank you for your works bc mmmm idk how you do it it’s just *chefs kiss* (:

Have some soft headcanons, then!

The first time Bill and Dipper took a bath together wasn't.... really a bath, per se. They'd probably run afoul of some supernatural skunk thing and had to soak in tomato juice, bickering about whose fault it was. The times they actually bathed together usually ended in water fights. Dipper half-drowned a couple times; Bill plays rough.

They've since settled down a bit! These days, the times they sink into one of Bill's hedonistic baths in his pyramid are pretty relaxing times to chat and flirt with each other.

And if Dipper's very sick or injured, Bill might even pick him up and set him in a warm bath, while taking charge of all the scrubbing down and rinsing of the pitiful mortal. While grumbling a little, but still!

Bill can cook. The trouble is getting him to stop adding ingredients that 'make things interesting', or go more along demonic culinary tastes - But he could, theoretically, make a decent meal. This is an uphill battle, since Bill's convinced following human recipes is boring and dumb. Dipper may even win it one day.

A fun fact that Dipper may or may not have learned by now is that Bill can purr! For the same reasons a cat might - calm, content, and relaxed.

However, Bill also hasn't done it in forever. For that kind of thing to happen, he'd have to be really content - to the point where let his guard down completely. Which I don't imagine he's done in basically.... eons? For all that he's had happy Party Times and pleased Winning Times and even Chill times, it's pretty impossible to ever really stop watching your back in the demon realm.

But say. After a great day. One where Bill's just won something, he's done something clever to pat himself on the back about, and he gets to chill with his husband in bed while Dipper rubs his back - just a calm, domestic-ish hangout where they're chilling - Dipper might feel and hear that rumbling start up. To his great surprise.

(And Bill's. He genuinely can't remember the last time that old instinct kicked in; it's unsettling.)

Here is what I imagine a triangle purring sounds like. It's more big-cat-like in the human body.

[hiccupologist]

new facial expression meme just dropped

[kerwynlar]

The Rite of the Seven Glasses

A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar

New installment in the King of Mirokan series, following The Sensation of Your Hands on Me and A Contrivance. Neither prior story is required reading.

In an act of diplomacy, King Lawrence undertakes a foreign custom and ends up very, very drunk. Prince Consort Nathaniel is there to help with the aftermath.

Tags: alcohol, drinking & drunkenness, semi-graphic vomiting, burping, hiccups, slurring words, belly rubs, sickfic, hurt/comfort, caretaking, domestic fluff, modern royalty, a bit of in-universe politics/worldbuilding.

Note: As the tags say, there is vomiting in this story. I don't have a good enough sense of the norms to know whether this should be tagged as "graphic" or "emetophilia". If you're not interested in that, I've put an asterisk where it begins and ends so it's easy to skip. If you read it and have ideas about how I should be tagging it, please let me know.

~2,900 words

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Lawrence thunked the shot glass down on the table just as the burly man across from him did the same. The liquor burned down his throat and into his belly which was already sloshing with far more of the stuff than he ever intended to drink. Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to swallow all of it, then opened his mouth to gasp for breath but was interrupted by a loud hiccup. 

“Ah hah!” his companion slapped his hands down on the table. “There you go, Your Majesty! The Rite of the Seven Glasses! Now we are truly friends!” 

Lawrence’s head swam and he blinked slowly to bring the man - the Foreign Minister of a nation with whom Mirokan had a strained relationship - into focus. “Thank you, Minister.” Lawrence spoke slowly, focusing on not slurring his words. “It - HIC! - was an experience I won’t soon forget.” 

“Yes, yes! Now I shall tell my President that King Lawrence of Mirokan is a truly honorable man. One who we can deal with and come to an understanding.” 

Lawrence pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little, and one of his aides stepped forward to put a steadying hand on his arm. “I’m very glad - HIC - to hear it, Minister.” 

The minister put out his hand and Lawrence had to squint at it for a moment before he could line his own hand up to shake it. The minister laughed again and clapped Lawrence roughly on the arm. The momentum might have overbalanced Lawrence in his present condition if his aide hadn’t been steadying him. 

“Next time, you shall meet with the President. We are friends now.” The minister let go of Lawrence’s hand, took a step backward and bowed. Lawrence managed to nod in return and thanked the man again. 

The moment the door shut behind the minister, Lawrence sank back into his chair with a groan. The aide was saying something to him, but he was too focused on trying to loosen his tie with clumsy fingers to listen. 

When Lawrence looked up again, the aide had been replaced by Solomon, his personal attendant. 

“Your Majesty, may I take you back to the residence?” 

Lawrence hiccuped while his sluggish brain worked through Solomon’s words. He frowned. 

“Where’s Nth… Nath… Nthan… my husband?” 

“I believe the prince consort is in the residence, Your Majesty.” 

“I don’ wan you, Solmn. You’re… you’re not…” he waved his hand in what he thought was probably a dismissive gesture. “I wan my pretty husband. Makes me feel good.” 

Nate hurried through the halls of the palace. The text he had received from Solomon had read: King requires you in the Blue Room. Please come at once. 

He rounded a corner and almost collided with Solomon. 

“Oh, Prince Consort, thank goodness! Please come with me.” Solomon turned and walked alongside Nate. 

“Solomon, what is going on? Isn’t the king having dinner with the minister from Elendria?” 

It seemed impossible that Lawrence was having digestive issues: the kitchen would have made absolutely certain that everything they served was safe for his stomach when he was engaged in diplomacy. 

“That was the plan,” Solomon said. “But the minister refused food, and insisted that to create friendship between Elendria and Mirokan, he and the king had to engage in the Rite of the Seven Glasses.” 

Nate nearly stopped walking. “Isn’t that the thing where you take seven shots of Elendrian liquor?” 

“Yes.” 

“And Lawrence did that?” 

“Yes. On an empty stomach. His Majesty is quite intoxicated.”

“Shit.” Nate walked faster. “I’ve never seen him drink liquor. Can his stomach handle it?” 

“I’m not sure anyone’s stomach could easily handle that much in that short amount of time with no food - well, no one who’s not Elendrian - but no, His Majesty rarely drinks liquor. He prefers wine in part because it is less likely to upset his stomach.” 

“Do you think he needs to eat?” Nate asked. Solomon had worked for Lawrence for years. Nate had only been married to him for eight months. 

“He probably needs to eat something and I’m having some fresh bread sent up. But honestly it may help if he vomits first.” 

Nate nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” Another thought occurred. “Did it work?”

“Did what work, sir?” 

“Doing the Rite with the minister. Did it achieve what Lawrence wanted when he agreed to do it?”

“Oh!” Solomon brightened. “Yes, rather spectacularly. I understand that the minister appears to have been favorably impressed. He even stated that his majesty’s next meeting would be with the President of Elendria.” 

Nate grinned as they reached the door to the Blue Room. Lawrence was brilliant as always, even if he was suffering for it now. 

Solomon held the door open for him. “Please let me know if you need anything.” 

Nate entered the room to see Lawrence sprawled across a sofa. He had never witnessed the king in this state of disarray: Lawrence’s hair was mussed, his tie hanging loose, his jacket and waistcoat crumpled on the floor, and - most notably - his shirt and trousers hanging open with his swollen belly protruding out. There had been no question in Nate’s mind that Lawrence would be incredibly drunk, but seeing the normally prim and proper king so very undone was something else. 

“Hey there, love,” he said gently as he approached. 

Lawrence turned unfocused eyes to him and gave him a bleary smile. “Nath… Nathanull - HIC! ‘S my pretty husban. C’mere pretty hus- HIC!”  

Nate choked back a chuckle. Lawrence slurring was a revelation. He sank to his knees beside the sofa. “I hear you completed the Rite of the Seven Glasses.” 

“HILK! Yep,” Lawrence said, popping the p. “The minis… minster said we’re - HIC - frienz now. Gonna… gonna meet the… the thingy. Urf. Prez. Prezdent nes time. HIC!” 

Nat shook his head. “You’re incredible, Lawrence. How are you feeling?” 

“‘M verr verr verr verrrrry … um. Drunk. Verr drunk. ‘N my stom… HIC! My belly dint like… not happy. Oof.” Lawrence put his hand on his bloated belly and groaned. 

Nate placed his hand beside Lawrence’s. “Poor belly. I tried to do the Rite of the Seven Glasses with some Elendrian friends when I was a teenager. I made it to five before I threw up. I can’t believe you completed it.” 

Lawrence groaned again. “Throwin’ up sounds verrr nice. My belly’s all blurglewurgle. ‘S not good. An it’s HIC ‘s … too big. Not nice n fat. Bloated. ‘N it hurts. ‘S sloshy. Don’ like it.” 

Nate rubbed a circle over the tight skin of Lawrence’s belly. “Bloated and blurglewurgle huh?” Nate couldn’t help his smile. “Let’s get you into the bathroom and we’ll see about throwing up then, okay?” 

Lawrence hiccuped again and nodded. 

Nate wrapped an arm around his back and helped him sit up, bringing his feet to the floor. Lawrence blinked slowly, clearly dizzy from the movement. He opened his mouth as if to say something but a huge belch came out instead. Lawrence closed his eyes and moaned. “Nathn … don’ feel so good.” 

“Yeah, love.” Nate rubbed Lawrence’s back. “Blurglewurgle right?”

*

“No, I- uuuoouurrrp. Room’s spinning. Feel sick.” He groaned and belched again. “Mm not good.”

“Okay, love, just breathe.”

“Rooms too spinny,” Lawrence moaned. “Ohh my belly. I don’t… ugh. Uuuurrrrrrrp. Feel so sick.” 

“Lawrence,” Nate said firmly, trying to hold his attention. “Do you think you can stand up? I’ll help you. We need to get you into the bathroom.” 

“Uuuuoorrrrp. I don’ … ‘m really - uurrp - really bad.” 

“I know, love, that’s why we need to get you to the bathroom, so you can throw up.” 

“Need to throw up,” Lawrence moaned. “So sick. My belly is really sick. Buuurrp.” 

Nate grimaced. “You’re not going to make it to the bathroom, are you?”

Lawrence had gone very pale and was swallowing repeatedly. “Ohhh oh no. Don’ think I can… hold it.” He gave a wet-sounding belch and clasped his hand over his mouth. 

Nate looked around and to his relief saw a clean trash can with plastic liner sitting just inside the door he had come through. Bless Solomon, he must have put it inside while Nate was distracted with Lawrence. Nate registered that there was a large pitcher of water and a glass, as well as a loaf of bread on the table by the door. Nate quickly grabbed the trash can and brought it back to Lawrence. 

Lawrence took the can and leaned forward, producing a series of sickly belches, but no vomit. He groaned and wiped his eyes. 

Nate moved to sit beside him on the couch and rubbed his back. “Let it out, love. You’ll feel so much better with all that liquor out of your stomach.”

“I want to but-” Lawrence was interrupted by a cough that turned into a retch, then dry heaving and belching, but still no vomit. 

“Feel so sick,” Lawrence groaned. “Ugh why won’ it come out?” He sat up, then leaned back against the couch, pawing at his exposed belly. “Nathn… my belly hurts. Feels so bad.” 

Nate reached over and spread his palm over Lawrence’s belly. Lawrence groaned and pushed his hand on top of Nate’s, pressing firmly against his skin. Lawrence belched, then sat up again. He pressed Nate’s hand harder into his belly. 

Nate frowned. “You want me to push on your belly? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Won’t. Please.” Lawrence gave him a miserable look. “Need to throw up.” 

“Okay.” Nate sighed. 

Lawrence leaned forward and Nate pressed into his bloated belly. Lawrence belched and coughed, then spit into the can. “More,” he gasped out. 

Nate pushed harder, then suddenly felt Lawrence’s stomach muscles clench under his hand. Lawrence’s belch turned into a wet gasp and then vomit was pouring out of his mouth and into the can. 

Nate looked away, not wanting to be sick himself. He started to pull his hand away, but between heaves Lawrence whimpered, and Nate stayed where he was. He kept one hand pressed against Lawrence’s belly and the other rubbing his back. 

“There you go love,” he said soothingly. “There you go. You’ll feel so much better.” 

Lawrence spit into the can a few times, then put it down on the floor, gasping for breath. 

Nate reached into the pocket of Lawrence’s trousers and pulled out the handkerchief he knew his husband always carried. Nate gently wiped Lawrence’s eyes, then his nose and mouth. 

“Are you ready for some water?” he asked. 

Lawrence shook his head. “‘M not… not done. Will you… my belly.” 

“Yeah, love.” Nate rubbed his hand over Lawrence’s belly, clearly feeling the churning within. 

Lawrence let out a deep burp, then leaned forward and picked up the trash can again, its contents reeking of liquor. 

Nate took that as his cue, and pushed hard against Lawrence’s stomach again. Once again, he felt Lawrence’s stomach muscles tense and then he was vomiting. 

It ended more quickly this time, and Lawrence put the can down an arms length away. “Please,” he gasped out, “I don’t want to smell it.” 

Nate understood completely. He took the can, careful not to look inside, and carried it into the bathroom, leaving it by the toilet. 

*

He grabbed the pitcher and glass on his way back to the couch where Lawrence was huddled miserably, arms wrapped around his middle. Nate poured a glass of water and held it out to him. Lawrence looked up at him, eyes red and wet, and took the water, one arm still holding himself. Lawrence took a careful sip and swished it around his mouth then swallowed. He closed his eyes and Nate guessed that his throat was likely pretty raw. Nate set the pitcher aside and sat back down beside Lawrence, draping an arm around his shoulders. Lawrence leaned into his side and took another sip of water. 

“‘M sorry,” Lawrence mumbled. He coughed then burped. “‘M so sorry.” 

“Shh.” Nate pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“You didn’t - mmf - you didn’t need to see me vomit.” 

“Lawrence, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to be embarrassed about this kind of thing with me.” Nate pulled him closer and kissed his hair again. “I’m very glad that alcohol is out of you instead of in you, and by putting it in you, you seem to have managed to thaw relations with Elendria of all places, which is something that I would have sworn was impossible two years ago.” Nate gave him a squeeze. “You’re a wonder, Lawrence. And if you need some help to recover from being a wonder, then I consider it an honor and a pleasure to be the one to help you.”

“Marryin you was a good thing, Nath- Nathn…” Lawrence paused to frown. “Why’s your name so hard to say when ‘m drunk?” 

Nate chuckled. “You know, my friends from home all call me Nate. I love that you call me Nathaniel, it sounds especially good in your accent, but you can certainly go with the shorter version in your state.” 

Lawrence considered this. “Mm. Nate.” He took another sip of water, then turned his head away to give a quiet but deep burp. “Thank you, Nate. For helping me.” 

Nate kissed the side of his head again. “How are you feeling now?” 

Lawrence blinked. “‘M still drunk. But maybe… maybe a lil clearer.” 

Nate nodded. “You still have to process what’s in your bloodstream, but now you don’t have all that sloshing around in your belly. How’s your stomach?”

Lawrence burped again. “‘M not gonna throw up again but it still feels bad. Queasy. ‘N ‘m still bloated.” 

“It might help to eat something,” Nate suggested. 

Lawrence groaned then leaned back against the couch, showing his still-swollen belly. “Too bloated.” 

Lawrence’s pants and shirt were still open and his belly looked so exposed. Nate could just imagine how uncomfortable it was. He gently placed his hand on it. 

Lawrence squirmed a little under his touch. “Would you rub? Always feels nice when you rub my belly.” 

With a smile, Nate shifted a little closer and brought both hands to the sides of Lawrence’s belly and began stroking gently. 

Lawrence sighed and smiled, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “Mm, good,” he mumbled before covering his mouth to burp. 

Nate alternated between stroking Lawrence’s sides and rubbing circles over the middle of his belly. When he felt gurgling in one spot he would focus his attention there, usually leading Lawrence to belch. 

While Nate didn’t like when Lawrence was feeling unwell, he had come to truly enjoy helping him with his rowdy stomach. Lawrence worked so hard all the time, governing his kingdom with a steady hand. And while Nate eagerly (and skillfully, if he wasn’t being too modest) engaged in diplomatic interactions as well as charitable work, he often felt a bit like an afterthought. But helping Lawrence when he wasn’t feeling well was both incredibly intimate and felt like something concrete and meaningful he could do. 

He leaned forward to kiss Lawrence’s belly. He knew it wouldn’t really get better until the rest of the alcohol had left Lawrence’s system but it seemed a little less tight than it had been and Lawrence was comfortable enough to have dozed off. 

“Lawrence,” he said quietly. When he got no response, he reached up to brush his fingers across Lawrence’s cheek. “Come on, love. You’ll regret it if you sleep in this position for too long, and I think your stomach will thank you if you get some solid food into it.” 

Lawrence stirred and roused. “Mm.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes then patted his belly. “‘S better.” 

Nate smiled broadly. “I’m glad. Solomon left some fresh bread. Can I get you some of that?” 

Lawrence looked at him sleepily. “You’re so pretty, Nathnull. Nathan… Nate. So good.” 

“Thanks, love,” Nate chuckled. 

“Mm. Wanna make you feel good too.” He reached out to grab Nate’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Nate gladly kissed him, despite the fact that he still reeked of liquor, but then pulled away. “Are you propositioning me, Your Majesty?” 

“Do you wan be propos…zshnd?” 

Nate laughed. “Aw, sweetheart, you know I love it when you scream my name during sex. Right now you’re too drunk to even say it. Let’s save it for when you’re sober.” 

Lawrence pouted, and Nate thought it was likely the most adorable thing he had ever seen. “‘S cause I threw up in front of you, isn’t it?” 

“No, love,” Nate said firmly. “It’s because you’re still drunk enough to be slurring your words, and you need to eat something.” He leaned in to kiss him again. “I’ll be making love to you the moment you sober up. And get over the hangover.” 

“Promise?” Lawrence asked, still pouting. 

“Promise,” Nate said. He kissed Lawrence’s nose, then sat back. “I’m going to get you that bread and text Solomon to ask him to bring you some sweatpants so you don’t have to try to get that suit back on.” 

Nate pulled his phone out of his pocket and had started composing the text when Lawrence spoke up again. 

“Nathnull… Nate.” 

Nate grinned, but didn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah, love?” 

“Knew I could do it ‘cause of you.” 

Nate did look at Lawrence, then, to see the king peering back at him. 

“The Rite,” Lawrence continued. “I knew-” he interrupted himself with a yawn. “Knew no matter what happened, you’d take care of me. ‘S the only thing - only thing that gave me … made me think I could do it.” 

Nate leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Always, love.”