Liquor and Cigarettes

Fandom: Breaking Bad

TW: Passing out due to hunger, possible disordered eating habits, mention of drug and alcohol abuse, mention of m*rder

*Takes place early season 4: Spoilers for everything up to that point.

Jesse Pinkman didn’t take care of himself very well.

It wasn’t much of a secret, even before his and Mr. White’s partnership had gotten far bigger than the two of them could ever imagine, Jesse wasn’t the type to make weekly runs to the grocery store. Not even monthly runs, for that matter. At any given time, the most he had in his fridge was a couple beers and a package of hot pockets. Anything quick, anything that didn’t involve any actual cooking.

Not too long ago he’d tried to make an effort. But that was before things changed.

Before too many people had died.

Now, it was rare if Jesse found the time to eat more than one meal a day.

Between running the lab, working with Badger and Skinny Pete on their side hustle, and spending his nights willing himself to sleep instead of staying awake and thinking, Jesse reserved any spare seconds he got for a quick rinse in the shower or a quiet moment outside with a cigarette.

And today, he was bearing the consequences of his bad habits.

He woke up feeling like shit. He’d drank a bit too much last night, and woke up an hour later than he should have with a bitch of a headache. And if Gus didn’t have his ass for showing up late, Mr. White sure would. He was out the door in seconds, and as he walked into the Laundry, he swore he could feel every eye in the place on him. As if every single person was one of the cameras Gus kept in the lab, just staring, judging, thinking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jesse rolled his eyes at Mr. White’s greeting as he shut the door to the lab, the older man staring up at him in his safety gear. He was in the middle of a cook, and just like the camera, his eyes followed Jesse as he stomped down the metal staircase.

“Sorry, I slept in, jeez. Don’t get your panties in a twist about it.” He tried to brush off as he headed for the lockers to get his own safety gear. Mr. White tailed him, matching his pace and taking his ventilator mask off just so he could clearly chew Jesse out.

“Don’t get my- Jesse, you do realize you can’t just sleep in and stroll in late like you did in my class, do you? Because there are no warnings or write-ups in our situation, instead Gus is going to-“

“Slit my throat and have you shove me in a barrel? Yah, got that loud and clear.” He slammed the locker door shut and set his goggles atop his head. “Look, I know you’re like, tweakin-out-kinda-paranoid about Gus or whatever, but if you’re so worried about it, then how ‘bout we just get to the fuckin’ cook, huh?” He snapped, shoving his arms into the yellow suit and zipping it up.

“Yes, I just need to know that this won’t happen again. There’s a reason you’re here and not Gale, I need you to make sure Gus knows why.”

Jesse felt sick to his stomach. Forgetting about Gale was what he’d spent his drinks on last night, and Mr. White had just undone all that hard work.

“…Sure.”

Walter took that as an acceptable answer, and as soon as Jesse was suited up, they got to work.

Mr. White was just about to finish the batch he’d started earlier this morning, and he proposed that they cook two more today to stay on-schedule. Jesse groaned internally, he’d only been here for a few minutes but he already wanted to lie down. He didn’t know why he was so tired, he’d passed out early enough that he’d gotten enough sleep. At least, he thought he did. This felt like more than being tired, though. His head was still pounding behind his eyes, and he found himself out of breath whenever he had to run between stations or lift something heavy. Mr. White spared him a glance every now and again when he paused to take a breather, but other than that, they worked in silent synchronicity.

The real problems only arose later in the day.

They’d just finished their second batch, and Mr. White was prepping for the next one while Jesse broke up the glass. He’d done it a hundred times before, it was the easiest part of any cook, but for some reason each time he cracked down on the tray and heard the crystal shatter and splinter, it seemed to go right to his head, pain shooting through with every crack that was made. It got to the point where the pounding was non-stop, and Jesse had to pause, set down his tool, and put his head in his hands.

The lack of movement made Mr. White turn and look.

“Jesse? Is something wrong with the product?”

Jesse didn’t respond.

“Jesse, is something wrong?” Mr. White repeated, setting down his own work to walk over. Hearing his name and the footsteps coming closer was enough to make Jesse lift his head, but that was as far as he got before his eyes rolled back in his head and he swayed backwards, collapsing in a heap on the floor. He’d taken the tray down with him too, the product shattering and scattering across the floor around Jesse.

Walter looked at the camera before rushing to check on Jesse.

“Jesse! Christ, wake up!” He tried immediately, his mind flooding with ideas of what could have caused this. Was he using again? Was Jesse exposed to a chemical leak in the lab? He contemplated that option for a moment before opting to pull off Jesse’s mask and hood to make sure he was still breathing.

He was, but as soon as his face was uncovered, Walter finally noticed something just as worrying.

He hadn’t seen it when he’d walked in, but Jesse was pale. White as a sheet pale, which contrasted horribly with the dark bags under his eyes. He looked like a corpse, and when Walter checked his pulse to assure himself that wasn’t the case, he was surprised to find that Jesse was cold and clammy. Either he was using again, or there was something else very, very wrong with him.

Walter got up and looked around frantically for a moment before grabbing Jesse under his arms and dragging him over to one of the lab’s chairs. As he hoisted the kid into the seat, something else became very apparent.

Jesse was light.

That fact stuck in Walter’s mind as he rushed to fill a water bottle, keeping his partner in his line of sight as he did. Jesse had always been scrawny, but to that extent? It just didn’t sit right with him.

Setting the water bottle down on the worktable, Walt weighed his options before grabbing Jesse’s shoulders and trying to shake him awake. Jesse groaned in response, and that earned him another firm shake. “Jesse, get up! You need to tell me what’s wrong.” He implored, giving him one final shake. Jesse’s eyes fluttered open, and with a strained noise he feebly tried to push Walter’s hands off of him, but his muscles felt so heavy that he could hardly lift his arms.

“…Dude, what the hell are you doin’…”

“What the hell am I doing? You passed out! So do you mind explaining to me why that happened? Did you overdose, are you sick, what was that?” He rambled, sounding more frantic than worried as Jesse tried to get his bearings and focus on what Mr. White was saying. He only caught a few words, but he was able to respond.

“Overdose? I’m… clean Mr. White, only thing I’ve been doin’ is liquor and cigarettes.” It took all his brainpower to form that sentence, and as he started to fully regain consciousness, his headache came back full-swing, and he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. Jesus, he wished he had stayed out.

“Right, then what did you eat last?”

“…Liquor and cigarettes…”

“Jesus, Jesse, that’s not food. I mean when did you last eat a real meal?”

Jesse was silent for a moment, thinking hard about the answer to that question. His stomach didn’t have to think at all however, because before any silence could stretch between the two men, his stomach growled emptily, painfully. Jesse only grunted and wrapped his arms around his middle, far too tired and in pain to be any kind of embarrassed for something as dumb as forgetting to eat.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s not good, Jesse. You’re a millionaire, for God’s sake, why aren’t you eating?” Mr. White asked as he handed the water bottle to Jesse, who stared at it for a moment before taking a few slow, careful sips.

“I dunno dude, I just- everything’s harder now, y’know?” He began, trying to organize his thoughts. “There’s so much I have to do… And it doesn’t fuckin’ feel right doin’ any of it” The cold water hit his stomach and made it churn and ache uncomfortably, but now he wasn’t sure if it was because he was starving or because of, everything else again.

“I, can’t say I know the feeling, Jesse. But regardless of any of that, you still need to eat.”

“I know, Jesus, stop using your weird dad tone.” Jesse took another gulp of water, the liquid going down as hard as if he’d taken a shot. “I don’t just mean working has gotten harder. I mean that with Gus breathing down my fucking neck and, what I did to Gale, I’ve been worrying more about that than any other bullshit, I guess.” He explained. He didn’t want to admit how he felt about Gale, it was a ‘him or me’ situation, after all. He’d be dead if Gale wasn’t.

At least, that’s what Walter had told him.

“…I see. This work gets to you, I know. Gale was a good man, I know that better than anyone.” Mr. White attempted to console, placing an uneasy hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse tensed up. “But you lose people, and you move on. That’s just how things work, Jesse.”

The younger man only nodded. His head was full of all the things he could say to that, he could say that it ‘wasn’t that easy,’ or ‘you’ve never lost anyone.’

But he didn’t.

“Right. Now, after we’re done cooking I’ll treat you to lunch. We still need to finish this batch and make up for the product we just lost. You feel well enough to cook?” He asked, already back in the working mood as if Jesse hadn’t just passed out.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

I’m starting a new D&D campaign with some friends and one of my buddy’s characters reminded me of a hunger trope I absolutely love: characters who’ve forgotten how to be human.

Imagine: their soul has been trapped in a container for god knows how long, there’s no need to eat or sleep without a body, but when they finally get out, they suddenly have to take care of themselves again, which is really fucking hard considering they spent so long worrying about anything but that.

So it’s not uncommon to just be truckin’ along, so focused on either traveling or fighting through a dungeon only to be suddenly and painfully reminded by their stomach that it’s been dayssince they last ate. And once their stomach starts growling and reminds them of how hungry they really are, food is all they can think about. Which is only a problem if they don’t have access to food at the moment.

But once they do have the chance to sit down and eat, they usually go a little overboard. Not just because they’ve forgotten how much they can comfortably eat, but also because they really missed food. Being a trapped soul without any of your senses isn’t fun, so whenever they get to indulge in the things that made them feel alive before they were trapped, they start to feel better for a moment or two.

By My Side (Part 2)

Fandom: The Moomins (1990)

Ship: Snufmin (Heavily Implied)

Content Advisory: Hunger, stomach growling, caretaking, stomachaches

Read part one here!https://hungry-tum-stuff.tumblr.com/post/685368609293336576/by-my-side-part-1

Snufkin woke up with Moomin’s arms around him.

For a moment he was disoriented; it was winter, right? Why was he at Moominhouse? As he began to wake up and get his bearings, the days leading up to hibernation quickly came back to him. Moomin and Snufkin had arranged to travel together in the spring, and instead of his annual journey south, Snufkin had agreed to stay the winter so he had the energy to travel after winter.

But if he was awake, did that mean hibernation was over already? Perhaps it had gone by much quicker than he’d thought.

That couldn’t be it though; his ears twitched as he picked up the sound of the wind still howling outside, and upon titling his head his suspicions were quickly confirmed: A blizzard was roaring just beyond the walls, and in this moment Snufkin couldn’t be more grateful for Moomin’s warmth pressing right up against him as he slept soundly. Snufkin spared him a glance and smiled before closing his eyes once again, content to go back to sleep until winter had finished her rampage on the valley.

But just as soon as he did, Snufkin’s stomach growled ferociously.

Sothat’s why he’d woken up. As filling as Moominmama’s Hibernation Feast had been, he’d had an inkling that it wouldn’t last him the entire winter. Mumriks weren’t made to hibernate after all.

Snufkin frowned and pressed a hand into his stomach as it panged hungrily, feeling the usual softness of his belly sink into itself now that it was empty. How long had he been asleep, anyways? Snufkin looked at Moomin’s stopped clock on the wall in vain: He certainly felt like he’d slept more than a day, he still had that same lingering tiredness that stuck around when one slept longer than they usually did. But it was hard to tell if winter was anywhere near being over. If this was the very last stretch of the brutal season, then Snufkin figured he might as well try to stick out the last leg of hibernation on an empty stomach.

His stomach moaned a complaint at the thought. While that would certainly be unpleasant, it would be even more unpleasant if he’d woken up near the very beginning of hibernation, and he had to go rifling around Moominhouse for another feast that could sate him through a good portion of the hibernation season. Which meant he’d have to periodically wake up to eat. Which meant he’d wake up absolutely famished each time.

Snufkin wrapped his arms around his aching belly, his tail flicking as he considered the little predicament he was in. When his stomach voiced its complaints once again, he didn’t need much more convincing to get up and go find something to eat.

Except, he couldn’t.

Moomin had Snufkin locked in his embrace.

“Oh dear…” He breathed, trying carefully to push Moomin’s arms off of him and slip out of his hold without waking the troll. But it seems that Moomin was intent on keeping Snufkin as his snuggle buddy this winter, because as soon as Snufkin began moving to make his escape, Moomin only readjusted his hold on the mumrik and pulled him closer to his body in an inescapably tight hug.

“That’s just like you, to want me to stay…” Snufkin sighed in mock annoyance before wincing as his tummy grumbled desperately. It slowly began dawning on Snufkin that he may just have to wake Moomin and actually ask him to get up. The thought alone was terrifying, but it was just as horrid to think of what would become of him if he didn’t get something to eat. “As much as I’d love to keep cuddling with you Moomin, I’ve got to get up… I fear I may waste away if I don’t.” He joked idly, which unsurprisingly garnered no response from the sleeping Moomintroll. Instead, Snufkin’s stomach only rumbled an angry response.

“Oh, hush you…” He whispered, his tail flicking nervously. In the very least, if he couldn’t wake Moomin up, then his tummy sure would. Moomin was holding Snufkin firmly against him, but embarrassingly enough, his paws were resting around Snufkin’s middle; right where his stomach was. “Please don’t startle Moomin awake… Though, I’m not sure anyone could, he’s sound asleep.” The mumrik informed his stomach with a wry smile before snaking his tail beneath Moomin’s snout and tickling his nose. While it earned him an unintelligible mumble, the other was still nowhere near being awake.

“Well, this is rather hopeless…” Snufkin sighed, leaning back into Moomin’s soft fur and closing his eyes. “I will admit that I’ve never been more well-rested, but I don’t believe I’ll be able to adventure with you in the spring if I’ve withered away to skin and bone. So if you could wake up and let me go, I’d be very grateful.” He spoke softly, despite the fact that Moomin was far too deep in his slumber to hear him. However, Moomin was awake enough to feel Snufkin’s stomach growling against his hand.

“Snufkin…?” The Mumrik nearly jumped out of his skin as Moomin started to rouse, his voice still bleary with sleep. “Are you awake?”

“Ah, yes, I apologize if I woke you up.” He said, twisting within Moomin’s arms so that his upper half was facing the troll. Moomin just shook his head and blinked a few times, his big blue doe eyes looking around for a moment before they landed back on Snufkin.

“No, you didn’t. At least, I don’t think you did, I’m not sure what woke me-“ He was promptly cut off when Snufkin’s stomach roared emptily. Moomin’s eyes widened, a hint of worry beginning to creep into his features. “…up. Oh Snufkin, you sound like you’re starving!” He exclaimed, patting Snufkin’s tummy where his paws were resting. “How long have you been awake?” Moomin finally loosened his his grip on Snufkin to sit up.

“Not long at all, you haven’t got to worry over me… How long have we been asleep anyways?” He asked, resting his own hands on his aching stomach and hoping his question would divert Moomin’s attention away from it.

“Two weeks.” Moomin pointed over to the clock, where the hour hand was stopped at two. Ah, so the clock wasn’t stopped, it had just been cranked to count the twelve weeks of winter. “Gosh, no wonder you’re so hungry…” Moomin took the opportunity to rest their own paws on Snufkin’s stomach, gently rubbing the slightly sunken space beneath his ribs.

“Well, at least now I know how long I can hibernate for.” Moomin’s methodical rubbing loosened up a long string of hungry grumbles, causing Snufkin’s face to flush in embarrassment. “Which isn’t very long… We’re not even halfway through the winter.”

“Oh, now that doesn’t matter Snufkin. You haven’t eaten a thing in two weeks, so I’d say you’re more than in need of a snack.” Moomin climbed out of bed and took Snufkin’s hands, pulling him up and along with him. “Come on, lets get something in that tummy. I remember Mama storing some smoked fish in the cellar before hibernation.” He recalled, causing the mumrik’s stomach to rumble expectantly.

“I could certainly go for some fish.”

By My Side (Part 1)

Fandom/Media: The Moomins (1990)

Ship: Snufmin (heavily implied)

Content Advisory: Brief descriptions of hunger, stomach growling, stuffing, tummyaches, tummy rubs, caretaking

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re staying the winter with us, Snufkin!”

“You’ve said that about a dozen times today, Moomin.” Snufkin replied, setting down a book he had picked off the moomintroll’s shelf and had been absently skimming for the past few minutes. It seemed to be about pirates.

“Well what else am I supposed to say? You’ve never stayed the winter, and you hardly sleep over in Moominhouse, but I suppose it makes sense now that the snow’s almost taller than the tree you pitch your tent under… You would have been buried if you’d stayed out there all winter!” Moomin rambled, pulling himself away from the window where he had previously been watching the snow fall from the sky in heaps. Snufkin got up to take Moomin’s place at the window upon hearing that, feeling some small urge to check if that claim was true.

“Well how about that.” His tail swayed back and forth gently as Moomin checked the clock on his wall, as if growing impatient for something. “All these years and I’ve never seen Moominvalley in the snow. It looks like a bowl of sugar.”

His stomach panged hungrily at the word ‘sugar.’ Surely the Hibernation Feast was nearly done by now, right?

“I suppose it does, I hope it’s mostly melted by the first day of spring though, I’d hate to have to trudge through the snow while we’re off on our adventure.” Moomin couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he finished that sentence. ‘Our adventure’ sounded like a dream come true; a dream that Moomin had dreamt countless times after hearing Moominpapa’s tales of his youth.

“You forget that’s what I do every winter, Moomin.”

“Oh… Adventure sounds hard.”

“You getting cold feet already?”

“Not a chance!” Moomin defended quickly, crossing his arms as Snufkin chuckled and turned to face him. Eager to change the subject now, Moomin shuffled over to open his bedroom door. “Let’s go find Little My, I’m sure she needs to be reminded to wash up before the feast, like usual.”

Snufkin’s thoughts were already preoccupied with something else as he stepped out of the bedroom, however; the smell of Moominmama’s cooking had hung heavily around the kitchen since breakfast, but now that the sun was nearly set and dinnertime was fast approaching, that glorious meal could be smelled from every inch of the house. Snufkin’s stomach grumbled impatiently, and Moomin’s ears flicked before the troll stole a glance back at his friend.

“Maybe we should ask Mama for some bread before dinner, too.” Moomin proposed.

“You go ahead, I wouldn’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“You sound like you have enough of an appetite.” Moomin teased as Snufkin rested a hand against his belly and opted to look anywhere but Moomin as he willed his stomach to quiet down for the time being.

The smell of food cooking was even heavier down in the dining room, where Little My was already sitting expectantly at the table.

“Spending the winter in Moominhouse again, Little My?” Snufkin asked as he peeked briefly inside the kitchen, where Moominmama, Moominpapa, and Snorkmaiden were hard at work.

“Obviously, Moominmama’s Feast is the best thing to have before hibernation! I’ve been spending the winter here since before you could travel.” She explained, briefly flaunting her status as the older sibling.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Moomin suddenly exclaimed. “This might be a little late to ask it, but you can hibernate, right Snufkin? Because I know some people can’t hibernate like Moomins can.” Snufkin opened his mouth to answer, but Little My quickly interjected.

“Of course he can! He’s half Mymble, and I hibernate just fine.”

“Well, yes, but I’m also half Mumrik.” He reminded, taking his own seat at the table. Moomin sat dutifully beside him. “And Mumriks don’t hibernate at all. I may be able to for a bit, but not nearly as long as you or Moomin.”

“Oh, what are you going to do during the winter then?” Moomin asked.

“I suppose I’ll try to hibernate, and if I wake up I’ll stretch my legs a bit and then go back to bed. There’s not much use in trying to stay awake if I’m snowed in.” He explained, though the thought of being trapped in one place all winter was particularly daunting.

He was quickly pulled away from those worries as the kitchen door swung open, to reveal Snorkmaiden carrying a large basket of bread.

“Oh good, you’re all here already.” She smiled, ducking back in briefly to grab two more plates heaped with different starting dishes. Little My climbed onto the table and made a grab for some bread, but Snorkmaiden swatted her hand and shook her head. “You have to wait! It’s rude to start eating before everyone’s at the table.” Snorkmaiden scolded, and Little My only slinked back into her chair and crossed her arms with a ‘humph.’

And just as she did, Snufkin’s stomach growled rather fiercely, and as his face flushed, Snorkmaiden just giggled and headed back towards the kitchen. “I’ll tell mama and papa to hurry up though, the food’s nearly done.” She assured, but that didn’t do much to assuage Snufkin’s embarrassment as he pulled his hat down over his face.

She hadn’t lied though, Moominmama and Moominpapa were out in a matter of seconds carting their own plates of food, everything from roasted and seasoned vegetables to hearty pasta and homemade sauce, and of course the main dish: A beautiful roast duck. Snufkin couldn’t help his mouth from filling with saliva just at the sight of the feast; he couldn’t ever recall being in the presence of so much food. He was snapped out of his momentary trance as Moominmama set a pie before Snufkin on the table, and then gave him a little wink.

“I made this special for you, dear.” She said proudly, arranging a few more things on the table as she spoke. “You helped us catch so much fish this season after all, so I tried out a recipe for black bass pie. I do hope you like it.” Snufkin just stared up at her, nearly dumbfounded.

“I can’t wait to try it Moominmama, thank you…” He replied, taking up his knife and fork as everyone sat around the table. Moominpapa grunted in agreement.

“Neither can I, working in that kitchen is torture! I’ve been waiting all day to try a bit of everything…” He grumbled as Moominmama sat beside him and gave him a quick peck. “Then stop complaining and start eating, dear.”

And that they did.

With as much polite restraint as he could continue to muster, Snufkin began piling food onto his plate. He took a little bit of everything, but he made a point to take a heaping slice out of Moominmama’s black bass pie. He couldn’t help his curiosity about the dish, and he ended up taking a bite out of that first.

And my goodness, was it heavenly.

Snufkin could hardly stop eating after that initial bite, everything was just so good; the vegetables were crispy, the fish was savory, the duck was roasted and spiced just right. It didn’t take him long to clear his plate, and when he saw everyone else reaching for seconds, he figured he might as well do the same. There were still things on the table he hadn’t even gotten around to trying.

“Make sure to eat a lot Snufkin.” Moomin advised plainly, passing the duck that the mumrik had motioned for once again. “This meal has got to last you all winter!”

“I know, but that shouldn’t be a problem, Moominmama’s cooked enough to feed the whole of Moominvalley.” His fangs tore into a leg of duck, and he couldn’t help his tail from swaying gently at the taste. He hardly ever got to eat a luxury such as cured meat.

Moomin himself couldn’t keep a grin off his face as he saw the other’s tail swaying. Not much could make him happier than when Snufkin showed those little telltale habits that reminded the world that he was, in fact, a mumrik.

Mumriks weren’t accustomed to Moomin-sized portions, however. Snufkin heeded Moomin’s advice to ‘eat a lot’ regardless, and throughout most of the feast, he was far too preoccupied with eating his fill of each and every dish, and made sure to put a helping of his favorites back on his plate during every serving. It would be rude if he didn’t try a little bit of everything after Moominmama and Moominpapa had worked so hard on such a big feast, after all. But by the time he was halfway through his third helping, Snufkin began slowing down a bit, on account of realizing just how full he was getting. He paused briefly to set a hand on his belly, which had rounded out considerably since he began eating. He’d been so caught up in eating that he had hardly noticed himself getting full, and now he just felt positively stuffed.

But he still had half a plate of food left, so he tried to push away the thought of how full he was getting in favor of clearing his plate.

When he eventually did, the stuffed swell of his belly was near impossible to ignore. At least for him. Thank goodness it was hidden beneath his cloak, but he could feel his overfull stomach straining against his undershirt and gurgling with the effort it took to digest the massive amount of food. Thank goodness the chatter of the table was enough to mask the noises, and that chatter only grew when Moominmama got up and returned with a few more heaping dishes of dessert.

“I hope you all aren’t too full yet, you can’t hibernate without some nice dessert in your belly, after all.” She insisted kindly, though Snufkin found himself groaning inwardly. The food looked absolutely delicious, Moominmama had brought out pies and cakes and cookies, and Snufkin silently envied how everyone else looked ready to dig into the final stretch of the meal while he was already stuffed to the gills. He would eat dessert nonetheless though; he’d rather be too full than wake up starving during hibernation, after all.

So he ate a cookie, and then a cupcake, and then a piece of cake, and then a piece of pie until he’d had at least one of every dessert. But after that he positively had to sit back and put down his fork to place a hand on his overfull stomach; if he didn’t he feared his tummy would burst with how much he’d crammed into it.

Thankfully it didn’t, but it did give a rather displeased rumble at the amount of food it had to deal with now, and like usual, Moomin’s sensitive ears swiveled before the troll glanced down at the swell of Snufkin’s stomach, now round enough to be noticeable even under his cloak. Moomin gasped.

“Snufkin-!” But the mumrik just held a hand up, shook his head and stared back at him with a look he hoped communicated ‘please, not here.’ He stifled a hiccup, and Moomin quickly got the message, finishing off the last of his own dessert before standing up.

“Can we be excused, mama?”

“I suppose, have you two had enough to eat?”

“Oh yes, more than enough mama, thank you.” Moomin insisted as Snufkin hoisted himself out of his seat with an agreeable nod.

“Everything was amazing Moominmama, thank you…” He said, one hand still resting on his rounded tummy as Moomin led him towards the stairwell.

“Alright, you two have a good hibernation then! Sleep well.” She called after the boys. Snufkin just stared up at the stairs and then exhaustedly back at Moomin.

“You’re mad if you think I can climb up to your room in this state…” He murmured abashedly. He’d really overdone it, his stomach was starting to churn and gurgle uncomfortably beneath his palm, not used to such an immense amount of food.

“Oh dear… Well, how about I just carry you up?”

“Carry me?” Snufkin couldn’t keep the blush from spreading across his cheeks.

“Of course, how else are you supposed to get to bed?” Both the boys paused as Snufkin’s stomach churned noisily, and Snufkin glanced down at the floor, placing his other hand on his belly in the hopes that he could hide the busy noises. “Best to get you to a place where I can tend to that tummy too, I don’t want you starting hibernation with a stomachache…” Moomin fussed as he gathered the mumrik up into his arms and started the trek up the three flights of stairs.

“Oh please, there’s no need to tend to me, I’m just full.” Snufkin insisted, but the journey up the stairs proved otherwise. Being jostled around and so close to Moomin that the troll could surely hear every churn and squeeze of his overworked gut was enough to make Snufkin silently give into Moomin’s offer for help. Especially now that an uncomfortable ache was starting to bloom in his belly.

Moomin set Snufkin carefully on his bed, and, with a bit of hesitation, the mumrik began making himself comfortable by wrestling his way out of his cloak and kicking off his boots. Moomin hung both his cloak and his hat on the bedframe before climbing up beside Snufkin, and nearly gasping again at the sight of his tummy.

“Oh, Snufkin… You really overdid it, didn’t you?” The smaller boy’s stomach certainly looked full. Where there would normally be the gentle slope of a soft and well-fed tummy, there was now the distended swell of a stomach that was a little too well-fed. Not to mention rumbling like an avalanche around the food that had been crammed inside of it. Snufkin had overindulged to the point where his belly was rounded like a ball and pressing against his undershirt, and after a moment of stewing in embarrassment at his overindulgence, Snufkin carefully undid the belt of his trousers and heaved a relieved sigh. Moomin chuckled gently and tentatively reached a paw out, and after a silent ‘go ahead’ nod from Snufkin, he placed a hand on the top of his friends belly.

“I bet that feels a little better, huh?” Moomin asked, slowly beginning to rub the gurgling swell of Snufkin’s belly. Snufkin just nodded, leaning into the gentle touch of the other’s paw. “Goodness, your belly’s all firm like a rock! Just how much did you eat?” He exclaimed, pressing in ever so slightly to help relieve a bit of the achiness. Snufkin’s stomach just released a string of distressed grumbles in return.

“Four plates, including dessert… How do you manage this every winter?” He huffed. Now that his hat was off and his ears were visible, Moomin could see that Snufkin’s ears were pressed flat against the side of his head, and his face was still flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh, that’s all? I had six, but I suppose your tummy is smaller than mine.” Moomin nearly teased, patting his own round tummy for emphasis. Snufkin just smiled gently, he couldn’t help but adore Moomin’s warm and round softness, everything about him was just so comfortable. He supposed that’s why Moomins hibernated in the winter, that softness couldn’t be properly appreciated if they blended in with the snowy white landscape. “You’ll be alright though-“ Moomin started again, interrupting Snufkin’s train of thought. “It’s your first Hibernation Feast. Once your tummy settles you won’t want to do anything but sleep.”

“Aren’t you tired then, Moomin?”

“Oh yes, but I need to make sure you get to sleep alright before I do. Like I said, this is your first hibernation, so I’ll make sure you get proper rest.” He insisted.

“Well, I learn by watching, so how about you just show me how?” He asked before wincing as Moomin worked on a particularly painful cramp in his stomach.

“Only after you start feeling better.” Moomin worked that spot a little more with the careful pads of his paws, and he was able to loosen the cramp and release another string of gurgles and growls. Snufkin just sighed in relief at the untied knot in his stomach.

“…Deal.”

So they carried on that way for awhile, with Moomin massaging, Snufkin reclined on the bed, and his stomach rumbling away around a lovely feast. Eventually Moomin was able to ease most of the aches in his stomach, and as soon as he was able to focus more on the weight in his belly as a comfortable fullness rather than an achy mass, he began to feel his eyelids drooping. And without a second thought, he began to purr.

“Snufkin!” Moomin gasped, causing the mumrik to crack an eye open. “Oh, you’re purring!” He said in a more hushed tone upon realizing how tired the other was getting.

“Mhm? I suppose I am…” He murmured, stifling a yawn. Moomin did the same; the action contagious. “Well, your belly rubs do feel rather nice…” He continued to purr, and with wide, admiring eyes, Moomin continued to rub Snufkin’s belly with one paw while he pulled a blanket over them with his other. He lied down facing the mumrik to continue rubbing his belly, as Snufkin simply lied there, finally enjoying his fullness.

“I’m glad… Do you feel better yet?”

“Oh yes, much better… Thank you Moomin.”

“Of course Snufkin…” Moomin could feel his eyes getting a bit droopy as well. But before he could ask Snufkin another question, his purring continued as his breathing evened out. He’d fallen asleep, and Moomin just smiled.

“Goodnight then, Snufkin.”

Time for some Snufkin Tummy Headcanons!

• I stand behind this guy being a mumrik, which explains his natural inclination towards fish in the series. But it also explains a lot of his eating habits in general, he’s rarely seen eating with other people unless it’s a big event or Moominmama has made a big meal. So it’s no stretch to say that like most other things, he prefers to take his meals alone.
• Plus, he’s a very polite person, so it would be very far-fetched to imagine he’d everinvite himself to a meal, even if he knows it’s something open to everyone, like most meals held in Moominhouse. This politeness can backfire on him sometimes, of course, because even if he truly is starving, he likely won’t take a place at a table unless he’s directly invited. (something Moomin catches onto after overhearing his tummy a bit too many times around dinnertime)
• I don’t imagine his tummy itself being particularly loud, when mealtime rolls around one could expect his stomach to sound off with quiet little grumbles. Of course, his stomach will complain louder the longer he goes without proper food, but considering he’s usually pretty well-fed in Moominvalley, one could only expect to hear his stomach reallygrowling if he’s had bad luck fishing and foraging.
• Snufkin’s stomach is actually at its loudest when it’s stuffed; he’s not used to big filling meals multiple times a day or feasts in the same way the Moomins are, so when he does get the chance to indulge, his stomach has to work rather hard. It’s not uncommon for Snufkin to retreat back to his tent after a large meal, partly to be alone after a social function, and partly to avoid any comments he might get about his gurgling tummy.
• He is also absolutely not immune to overindulging on Momminmama’s cooking; not only can the Moomins eat far larger portions than him, and he tries to match those portions and clear his plate to be polite, most of the time the food is just that good and he truly can’t help but to eat a little more than he can manage.
• (TW: Brief mention of weight gain/loss) I am personally a soft Snufkin enjoyer, I see a lot of lovely fanart where he’s drawn as your Regular Skinny White Boy™️ and while that’s a great take, I can’t help but think he has a little bit of a tummy, almost in the same way cats have a little pooch. Especiallywhile he’s staying in Moominvalley, there’s just too much good food for him not to put on a healthy amount of weight. He probably sheds a bit of that weight during his winter travels when filling meals are harder to come by, but his time in Moominvalley more than makes up for any meals he might have missed during the winter.
• To dip a little into angst, Snufkin probably does hoard food when he notices it starting to become scarce. Considering he’s a mostly self-sufficient person who has been traveling since he was very young, I wouldn’t be surprised if he experienced one incident where he really couldn’t get any food that caused him to begin saving things for rainy days. He has safety nets and is better equipped to take care of himself now, but it’s a habit he can’t seem to shake.

Homesick

Fandom/Media: The Moomins (1990)

Content Advisory: Hunger Kink, hunger due to not having easy access to food, stomach growling, hunger pangs, tummy talking

“Do you really have to leave now, Snufkin?” Moomin asked, hesitant to let go of the mumrik’s hands as they stood together on the bridge. As much as Snufkin didn’t want to let go of the moomintroll’s hands, autumn had come to a close. The first winter chill was crisp in the air and Snufkin had prepared to take his annual trip south, and there wasn’t much that could deter him.

No matter how big or how sad Moomin’s eyes got.

“I’m afraid so” Snufkin finally responded. The two boys looked up to the sky after they noticed snowflakes beginning to float down around them, and the mumrik could only smile and give his friend’s hands a squeeze before letting go.

“And I believe that’s my cue. I’ll be back on the first day of spring, Moomin, same as always” He assured, turning tail as Moomin nodded and sadly watched him begin down the path south.

“Right. I’ll be waiting right here for when you get back, Snufkin! Mama will have a big lunch ready for when you get back!” He insisted, as if enticing Snufkin to hurry back when spring finally arrived.

Fortunately, Snufkin never needed to be convinced to return to Moominvalley.

Instead, during his first few days of travel, Snufkin had to convince himself not to turn around and head back to the safety of Moominhouse.

•

Over the years, Snufkin had grown increasingly more aware of the fact that his time spent in the gentle cradle of Moominvalley had spoiled him. To an extent, of course. He figured himself to be rather competent; he lived on his own, he fished and cooked for himself, but competency didn’t account for days when the fish just didn’t bite, or there simply wasn’t a single thing to forage.

So when he was struck with such misfortune, he knew that he could always fall back on Moominmama’s cooking. But, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t taken her up on her frequent meal offers simply because he, and his stomach, were a bit too impatient to wait around for a fish to bite. Moominmama’s cooking had become something he’d often found himself craving, and even when fishing was good he wouldn’t pass up a chance to help Moominmama in the kitchen. He was one of the only few in Moominvalley who actually knew how to cook, after all.

In times like these, that luxury was sorely missed.

Snufkin had been sent on his way with food, of course. Moominmama’s apple tarts had been tucked into his bag on the day he shoved off, and Snufkin had every intention to save them for a rainy day. But after a full day of travel and not much luck fishing during his first evening, he resigned to treating himself to one or two of those heavenly pastries to tide him over until he could catch a substantial meal.

At least, he would have, had someone not stolen them from his bag.

“Hey, get back here!” The thief was already a flash of red and green in the trees within the second of Snufkin realizing his camp had been ransacked, and although he tried to give chase, they seemed to have disappeared into thin air as soon as they left the clearing. There wasn’t even a set of footprints to follow in the fresh snow, they simply vanished. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Snufkin hurried back to camp to assess the damages.

And to his horror, Moominmama’s apple tarts were gone.

“Oh, no” He breathed aloud, wincing as his stomach gave an expectant growl for the food that should have been there. He frantically dug through the rest of his belongings, which seemed to all be there, except for the food, of course. He plopped down in a snowbank, and as his belly pleaded with him once more, he just wrapped his arms around it and glared at the thief’s set of footprints in the snow; his tail flicking in agitation.

The sun was hardly piercing the thick veil of the trees anymore, which meant he’d be going to sleep on an empty tummy.

But, he could handle that. Surely there’d be fish to catch tomorrow.

But apparently, he’d been too hopeful.

Packing up his temporary camp and moving south, which was further down the little stream he’d been following, had not been fun. Sleeping on an empty stomach had been bad enough, but walking had just drained him. So by the time lunchtime rolled around, Snufkin was more than eager to settle down and cast his line in the water. This time with his belongings in his line of sight.

But nothing was biting.

Snufkin must have re-baited his hook about a dozen times and tried out different spots where the stream slowed down, where there was a rock the fish might be hiding around, anything to make his efforts worthwhile. He was tempted to just climb into the stream and grab a fish with his bare hands, but upon sticking his hand in the water to test how good of an idea that would be, it quickly became evident why the fish weren’t biting.

It had gotten too cold too fast.

Snufkin set his fishing pole down with a defeated sigh and cupped his hands to take a much-needed drink from the stream, which only sloshed uncomfortably into his empty stomach and made it gurgle furiously, demanding something more substantial.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he settled to lean against a tree, his hands resting against his grumbling, achy gut. “There isn’t going to be much food in the north now that the weather’s turned so suddenly, anything good would be two or three days south out of the snow…” He reasoned aloud with his stomach, which only coiled up in a tight cramp. He grunted and pressed a hand further into his belly, now a bit more yielding rather than pleasantly soft after a day and a half of being empty. He stayed curled in on himself for a few moments as his stomach continued to cramp painfully, only to release in a terribly hollow-sounding groan that Snufkin could feel rumbling through the fabric of his cloak.

“Well, there’s not much I can do about that…” He murmured, rubbing his tummy in slow, careful circles. He knew he should have eaten breakfast before he left. Maybe he should listen to Moomin more often; the other had suggested he’d wait until after dinner to leave instead of hitting the road at the crack of dawn.

Maybe then he wouldn’t be as hungry as he is now, and maybe then Moominmama’s apple tarts wouldn’t have gotten stolen.

And maybe he was still close enough to Moominvalley to head back for a proper meal.

He shook the thought from his head; he’d already said all his goodbyes, and he couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave Moomin behind a second time this winter. In his current state, he may very well give in and stay the winter with the moomintroll…

But he couldn’t. The only reasonable option was to press on south, so Snufkin grabbed his fishing pole and stood up to gather the rest of his things.

He had a long walk ahead of him.

Really in the mood for some (somewhat) soft headcanons, and this one’s been kickin around for a little:

Imagine a character who’s lost a little weight, whether it be because of godawful college eating habits, they’ve been stressed and unmotivated to eat, or just simply haven’t had access to a good meal for awhile.

Now imagine they meet up with a friend/loved one they haven’t seen in a bit and that person immediately hugs them, but upon doing so they notice right away how much smaller the hungry character feels in their arms. They’ve hugged this person so many times before, and they’re certain they shouldn’t be able to feel their spine.

The hugger lets go and immediately starts asking questions, “how have you been eating lately,” “when’s the last time you ate,” and as they do they continue to worriedly inspect their hungry loved one.

Much to their embarrassment, the hugger places a hand on the other’s tummy in the midst of their inspection, and as they do their stomach turns loose a terribly hungry growl. They finally admit they haven’t been eating as well as they would have liked, and the hugger wastes no time in beginning to put together a proper meal.

And obviously the hungry character is long overdue for some cuddles once they finish eating <3