#been meaning to answer this ask with this specific drawing HEHEHEHE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fishedeyelenz · 7 months

Note

Oh fishy! That Billy and Camille mood board was…..*sighs dreamily* everything. Agh!! You just have no idea!! All of y’all!! All the billy writers and artists, the billy mutuals, I know I lurk, anonymously…not unlike how billy does, but in my mind y’all are the attic gang. My attic gang, all of us loving and bullying the attic boy, and also the wall boy….I just…aaah…perfection. Anyways, your stories are keeping me alive woof, I’ll be catching up on the latest chapters of rats in the shadows (gee I hope I got the name right lol) later when I can (life you know) and I’m losing my marbles thinking about BEAN. BILLY BEAN BILLY’S BEAN!!! And how sweetly devoted he is to his Camille and Bean!! It’s just….*sighs happily* so so sweet….all these mood boards have been cracking me up they’re so SILLY!! I keep wishing to stick a sticker of canned beans on Beans’ forehead…these dark urges smh…

Okay but yes, right right, I need to get to the actual reason for my silly little ask, okay so, how would billy be with an s/o who’s very musical? We know he loves Camille in all her drawing and painting glory, (does she paint too? I know she draws, I guess I just assumed she might’ve dabbled in paints as well, apologies if not) but what about a musical gal? My family is extremely musically inclined, we all sing and everyone plays instruments (I draw too but again, we have our answers with precious Camille! And Thank goodness, for I’d love to draw with him, or draw a mustache on him while he sleeps if nothing else) and so I always wonder if he’d like music like I do…..I very much rely on music, it helps me, and I wonder if it’d help him too! The beat of the music grounds me, I can copy and mimic almost all the specific voice of all the singers I listen to, it’s patterns that I can rely on….it’s just all very soothing and helps me be happy while also calming! It’s like….a sturdy rock. Always consistent and nice!

And so I always imagine singing with Billy, (I know he’s a terrible singer but it’d be so wonderful and fun still!) dancing with him, teaching how to tap dance, singing and humming to him while holding him and running my fingers through his hair, playing my concertina for him, playing the piano with him, making up sound games, like, me play a tune and he has to mimic it, or him make up a tune and I’ll try to play it for him, it just seems so fun! All of it! Always singing and dancing with each other!! Loud and fast when we are okay! Or softly and slow, very quiet songs when either of us need soothing or comforting….it just all seems terrible sweet to me, I’m just a sucker and have been having so much fun practicing my concertina, so I’ve just been really having this on the brain eheh (btw I feel like a little sailor with my concertina, I freaking love it aaah)

Hello!! Glad to hear from you again dear anon, I was wondering about a couple of days ago actually!! You always leave such sweet messages <333 The part about the attic gang made me giggle heheheh <333 well, if it means anything, if you ever wanna go off anon I at least will be very accepting, and I'm sure others will do. But I respect your decision to stay anonymous if that's more comfortable to you!! I hope you have a fun time reading the last few chapters, I'm quite proud of them!!

Little Beanie baby honestly deserves a little treat in the form of a sticker on her forehead. Little guy <333 Also yeah, Camille is a painter!! Shes a painting mayor actually. Hats why shes in the college, or I guess the academy she goes to. And Camille would draw a mustache on him ough <3 As for the part about a musical s/o you're pretty spot on!! Certain types of music would definitely be very grounding to him, and could help a lot with calming him down. He in general likes simple little songs I think (think Daisy Bell like in the commentary) and I do think he sings to himself to calm down!! Though he is pretty tuneless... and his singing voice is not pleasant even if he tries... though he usually sings the sing badly on purpose to entertain himself lmao. Hes like a very loud, annoying parrot in human form.

That's why he would love to have a s/o who is actually musical lol. At first it would be to annoy them honestly, ruin their flow with singing badly, mock them when they can't reach a high not and things like that. Being a little shit in general. But as time moves on he would grow to appreciate their talents more. Sometimes he would quiet down when they start playing their instrument and listen carefully, maybe even clap for them in the end if he gets exited. Sometimes his lovers would would sing him to sleep after a hard day. And he would genuinely start joining in on them when they are singing, not to make fun of them but for them to share a moment together. In fact, he would use any chance he can to sing with his s/o, sometimes asking them to join in on singing a silly little song.

One thing though, is to watch over your instrument when around him. It's very fun that you play a concertina but there's always a chance he could break it. Whether on accident from being clumsy, or in a moment when he loses control of himself and breaks everything around him, or maybe out of pettiness after an argument. Either way after the fact he would feel immensely guilty, which will send him spiraling and so on and so forth. Not a pleasant experience for either of you.

This reminds me that Bean will be a musician in the future. She will play bass and melodica and will play in a band. I wonder what else I could do with this concept in relation to Billy...

Thanks once again for sending me this ask, I always am happy to hear from you!!

#asks #billy lenz #dilf billy lenz #oc: camille #oc: bean #my writting

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leoiraa · 4 months

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Hey! How’s your life going? Btw, for no reason at all, what time was the hotel in your fic built in? It’s says in Stalin’s time but that’s like 20s-50s so I just want to know for absolutely no comprehendible reason which century it was/ you like best.

Anyway, love ya as much as an internet stranger is allowed, hope your doing great!

(Here’s a doodle I did that’s going to threaten you to have a good time :] )

Hey it’s so good to hear from you, I hope you’re well!! Thank you for your drawing it did make me giggle whilst iIwas at work heheheh :p

To answer your question I wanna make it clear that the hotel is 1000% made up 😭 The original time I wrote the fic (when i was 13) it was set in Moscow which doesn’t make much sense for how long they’re trapped for, so I dumped them in the middle of nowhere and came up with a backstory of a place that Stalin liked to go lol

I’m going completely off of memory of when I studied Russian history for a year, but I took inspo of it from Stalin’s investment in the Moscow metro (the stations described to be almost like palaces 😳) and some architectural developments like the Metropolitan hotel (not built during Stalin’s reign but inspired by the art noveau style), the plans that were scrapped of the Palace of the Soviets, and especially the main building of the Moscow State University. The biggest inspo was the Hotel Ukraina - it’s a 5 star hotel and has like over 500 rooms and I pretty much just took that and plonked it somewhere random in Russia!

I’m not sure if I have a specific century of Russian history (I’m assuming you were asking about Russia specifically!) that I like the best. I am a history student (i do classics and archaeology at uni :3) and the Russian period I did was from 1860-1960 but that was a looonng time ago. I’ve bought so many Russian history books that I’ve been meaning to get through but I’m defo wanting to look into both Ivan the Great and Catherine the Great! I have so many hetalia history fics running around in my head, I just wish I had the time and the discipline to actually do some of it.

Anyway, sorry for talking your ear off but thank you for your ask!! Hope you’re doing okay, it’s always nice hearing from you :)

#hetalia #the earth that birthed him

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popatochisssp · 4 years

Text

Happy (Belated) Valentine’s Day!

I’m a procrastinator and then also I needed to sleep at one point, RIP anyway

Soul Searching

Your partner takes you aside on Valentine’s Day, somewhere nice and private.

You can guess at his intentions, especially when he tells you there’s something he wants to give you, but the chocolates and flowers you’re half-expecting don’t come.

Instead…

Instead, he talks to you, telling more than you already know about monster customs, monster relationships, monster milestones.

He thinks it’s time to do one of those right now, on your cute human love-holiday, a specific show of intimacy and trust like no other.

He touches his phalanges to his chest and his soul—the culmination of his entire being—comes forth.

And he wants you to hold it.

Sans (Undertale):

His smile is relaxed and easy, even lit from below by the soft white glow of his soul.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, and his grin widens.

“of course,” he replies without hesitation. “it’s you.”

Sans trusts you, wholeheartedly.

The thought makes you feel soft, and for lack of any kind of answer to it, you reach for his soul.

Your fingers brush against it and you’re immediately overwhelmed with…impressions, feelings, synesthetic thoughts as your mind attempts to translate this thing of pure magic into something you can understand.

A crisp breeze, blowing by your face.

Sliding into a freshly-made bed, rumpling a clean set of sheets for the first time.

The gently spiced sweetness of gingerbread, and the tart burst of blueberries.

A single, resonating chime of a bell, fading out into stillness.

“well?” Sans asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “what do you think?”

It’s said casually but it’s obvious your answer is important.

“I love it,” you tell him. “It’s you.”

Papyrus (Undertale):

“I’M! NOT NERVOUS ABOUT THIS, BY THE WAY! IF YOU WERE WONDERING.” Papyrus tells you.

…Which is an obvious lie by the way his leg is bouncing a mile a minute.

But you’re not about to call him out on it.

“It’d be okay, if you were nervous,” you say with diplomacy. “This seems like a pretty personal thing…”

“OH, VERY MUCH SO. BUT,” Papyrus beams at you, just the barest edge of nerves in his smile, “IF THERE’S ANYONE I’D TRUST WITH MY ENTIRE SELF, IT WOULD BE YOU!”

So saying, he nudges his soul forward; closer to you, wordlessly inviting you to touch it.

You’re not nearly rude enough to decline that invitation.

Papyrus is…

Polished marble beneath your fingertips.

Warm, gentle sunbeams on your skin.

The snap of a pretzel and the zing of cold, fresh lemonade, ice cubes clinking against the glass.

Waves, crashing onto the beach, rhythmic and powerful.

“Papyrus,” you breathe. “You’re amazing…”

He blinks at you a moment.

And then he laughs, boisterously, proclaiming, “YES! O-OF COURSE I AM! NYEH-HEH-HEH!” like he knew it all along.

He might not have…but you certainly did!

Sky (Underswap Sans):

“…COURSE YOU DON’T HAVE TO, IF YOU FEEL IT’S TOO SOON—I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!—BUT I WANTED TO OFFER BECAUSE…WELL, IT’S ABOUT THE GESTURE, AND OBVIOUSLY I TRUST YOU, SO—”

“Sans,” you interrupt, laughing a little despite yourself. “You’re…you’re rambling a little…”

Sans’ mouth shuts, a faint tinge of blue coming across his face.

“I…YES, I WAS, WASN’T I? HEHEHEH… I’M SORRY,” he sighs, a touch rueful. “I’M JUST…A LITTLE EXCITED! I KNOW YOU LACK THE CULTURAL CONTEXT, BUT THIS IS…KIND OF A BIG DEAL?”

You look at the upside down heart, bobbing before you in mid-air—Sans’ soul.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“IT’S JUST…I LOVE YOU,” Sans admits. “SO…I WANT YOU TO LIKE IT…DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?”

“It does. ” And the least you can give your skeleton beau is an honest answer, so… “I am ready. I’ll do it.”

Sans’ eye-lights brighten happily as you reach out and cup his soul in your hands.

Just like he warned you, in as much magi-scientific detail as monsterly possible, it’s…weird, an utterly bizarre sensory experience for your brain.

It’s the soft, cloying sweetness of marshmallow, cut with the sharp, icy tingle of mint.

It’s the tickling bubbles of carbonation from a freshly cracked soda can.

It’s the swoop in your stomach at the top of a rollercoaster, just as you start to fall.

It’s birdsong, ambient and melodious.

It’s Sans.

So, “It’s perfect.”

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

Such a bold invitation from your favorite shy skeleton is unexpected, to say the least.

But far from unwelcome.

The pale upside down heart is like a magnet for your fingers, your hands itching to touch the very core of the man you love so much.

But you have to be certain.

“This is…really okay?” you ask. “You’re okay…with this?”

Papyrus, with his ducked skull and fidgeting hands, looks utterly bashful, but the way he meets your eyes is nothing short of resolved.

“yeah,” he says. “i want to share this with you. i want you to know me…like this.”

He reaches for your hands and you let him take them, pulling them to closer to where his soul hovers.

“it’s okay,” he promises.

So you reach, and find…

The trickling sound of a quiet stream, flowing steadily forward.

Lacquered wood, smooth and sturdy.

A hot shower after a long day, filling the room with soothing steam.

Heavy cream, thick and sweet…with the faintest hint of hazelnut.

It’s probably rude, or at the very least extremely cheeky…but you can’t quite stop yourself from bringing Papyrus’ soul up to your lips for a chaste little peck.

He shivers, an enticing cerulean dusting his face.

Your intent must have quite clear, because he chuckles.

“i…i love you, too…”

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

“figured it was about that time,” Sans is saying with a shrug. “one of those things ya’ gotta get to sooner or later, y’know?”

His tone is blasé, perfectly casual; verging on cocky, even.

You might’ve bought it if he hadn’t stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to hide their trembling from you.

Real emotion—vulnerability—scared the hell out of Sans and you both knew it.

With his soul laid bare before you, utterly exposed in the truest sense possible, he really couldn’t get any more vulnerable than this.

…but he’s showing you anyway.

He chose to be vulnerable to you, for you, and there aren’t words for how special that makes you feel.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping he understands what you mean and reaching slowly, carefully for everything that makes him…him.

The magic that settles in your palms feels like dry heat, almost insistently warm.

It feels like static, like peeling apart a pair of socks stuck to each other, fresh out of the dryer.

A puff like cinnamon and the tang of a tart apple, sour and sweet and spice all at once.

A distant rumble, like from a far off storm…

Sans’ eye-sockets go wide when you pull his soul closer to you, holding it against your chest.

You know what it probably looks like, like you’re aiming for an even more intimate type of sharing, but really, you just…want him near to you.

Because…

“Sans…you feel like home…”

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

“I’M SURE YOU’RE INCREDIBLY FLATTERED. TO HAVE WON SO MUCH OF MY REGARD IS NO SMALL FEAT—EVEN FOR AN EXTRAORDINARY HUMAN SUCH AS YOURSELF!”

He’s probably been talking for a solid two minutes now, blustering about how intimidated you must be by such a bold, romantic gesture; how loved you must feel to have such an amazing partner, willing to trust you with his soul; how he understands if you need a moment to process all this overwhelming information.

If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought Papyrus was projecting a bit, stalling for time…

But you do know better: surely, the fact that he can’t seem to meet your eyes right now is just to…keep you from feeling nervous.

Surely.

“…AN HONOR, REALLY—”

“I am,” you say, cutting into his long-winded tirade.

Papyrus’ jaw clicks shut.

“I…WHAT.”

“You’re right,” you clarify. “I’m honored. Really.”

Ah, Papyrus hadn’t prepared a script for that response: you can tell by the way his cheekbones go the palest shade of pink, and by how he all but thrusts his soul at you.

“I! JUST…JUST TAKE IT!” he demands.

And well…you’re not often one to tell Papyrus ‘no.’

You carefully grasp his soul.

Sharp spice like ginger, dripping in rich dark chocolate, riding the line between bitter and sweet.

A razor’s edge beneath a fingertip, safe only for a careful hand.

Fine silk that flows and ghosts against your limbs, the barest whisper of touch.

Crackling, like the tamed fire of a well-stoked hearth.

You let go.

Papyrus looks uncertain, too proud to ask for your thoughts outright but obviously dying to know.

You opt not to leave him in suspense, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down to meet you in a kiss.

Your partner is a fascinating man…

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

You startle when Sans grabs your hands in his own, intercepting you.

“Is…Did you change your mind?” you wonder, attempting to pull back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“NO. NO, IT’S FINE,” Sans assures you. “I TRUST YOU, DEAR. I DO.”

But still, he holds your hands, his grip firm.

“……I don’t—”

“JUST…YOU CAN…GO AHEAD. I JUST NEED…THIS……WHILE YOU DO.”

Your beloved Sans—ever emotionally-constipated—probably can’t do any better than that strained and halting explanation.

It’s a good thing that (you think) you understood it.

You can hold his soul.

He wants you to hold his soul.

…But the faint shred of control in such a vulnerable act, holding onto you while you hold onto him, is something he needs to have, too.

If it helps him feel comfortable, you don’t mind in the slightest.

You reach for his soul, with his gloved phalanges still curled around your hands.

Sans allows it.

A subtle yet persistent hum, background, like a nearly-forgotten device in a silent room.

A…strange sort of sweetness, bitter like licorice, or sour like raspberry—impossible to separate from one another, either way.

Pressure, intense and purposeful, bearing steadily downwards.

Crushed ice, stingingly, numbingly cold…

You’re not sure what to make of it…at first.

But then, you remember the last time you’d felt a wisp of this magic.

When you’d been hurt, not badly but enough to make Sans dart over to scold you, even as green light started to pour from his claws—easing your pain, putting you back to rights.

It was the same.

You release your grasp on Sans’ soul, taking no offense in the way it immediately retreats back into his chest.

You turn your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tight.

“Thank you…for trusting me.”

And then, you lean in for a kiss.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

You can’t believe it sometimes.

How you ever managed to snag yourself such an adorable, goofy sweetheart of a skeleton.

“i-i mean, if you don’t…y’know, ‘cause, i-if it’s weird, for you, uh…i wouldn’t want you to feel…obligated??? that’s…mmmaybe not the right word…”

Poor Papyrus is absolutely babbling by now in a way that could only be more endearing if he didn’t look so nervous.

“i don’t…i dunno, whatever, uh, whatever you want, to do, i just…wanted it to be…out there, if—………”

He goes dead silent when you make your answer to his proposition clear, taking his soul into your hands.

It’s…not what you expected.

The sensation of a thick plume of faux fur against your cheek.

Lukewarm wax cooling, growing tacky on your fingertips.

What rain sounds like when it’s falling outside, while you’re safe and dry indoors.

Dripping, overwhelming sweetness, dense like marmalade and sticky like caramel.

No…not really what you expected…

But somehow, it suits him wonderfully, this odd, clingy duck of a skeleton you’ve chosen as your own.

Papyrus visibly jumps when you raise his soul up to your face and give it a tender little nuzzle.

“I love you,” is all you have to say to make his whole skull glow violet.

It’s true, though—you really do.

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He doesn’t look particularly…happy…about this.

In fact, Sans looks pretty much the opposite, a grimace on his face and his single red eye-light pointedly averted from the sight of his own soul, hovering there between you.

You manage to tear your eyes away from the sight of it, looking at him instead.

“Why?” you ask.

His frown deepens, confusion obvious.

“Why do you want me to do this?” you try again, hopefully clearer. “If it’s… If you don’t want to…”

“……no,” Sans says at length. “it’s not… you should get to……you…deserve to………to know it.”

“But…if you don’t want me to—”

“not… no, that’s not it.”

Sans looks at his soul, his expression visibly pained.

“i just…wish it weren’t…like this…”

Finally, it clicks.

He’s talking about the state of his soul, littered with cracks and fissures, marks of damage from all the horrible trauma he lived through.

He’s…

Sans is ashamed of it.

His own soul.

…

Something…comes over you.

Without hesitation, you reach out and take the manifestation of the skeleton you love into your hands.

It feels like…

Oil dripping over your fingers, dark and slick.

Plush velvet, soft and smooth.

A sharp burst like grapefruit and the warring bitter and sweet of burnt sugar.

Intermittent cricket chirps, on an otherwise still and silent night.

Just like you thought…

You pull Sans’ soul in, bringing it to your lips to pepper it with kisses—one for every little crack and imperfection on its surface—even as Sans shudders and goes that soft gray-blue color you adore so much.

He only manages to hold back the tears (relief? Joy? Disbelief?) until you speak.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

And then, well…you’ve got plenty more kisses to give.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

“So! If You’d Like… You Can Just Go Ahead And…”

Don’t mind if you do!

The soft white soul in front of you is utterly enchanting, lovely to look at—and that should be no surprise at all, knowing the man it belongs to.

You lean in closer, admiring it just a moment longer…

“Wait!”

You look up.

Papyrus, his smile gone tight all of a sudden, is reaching for his own soul too…calling it back?

No…

Just…turning it, slightly, a minor little adjustment.

Which is, quite frankly, deeply suspicious.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Papyrus assures you. “Don’t You Want To—”

He cuts off abruptly as you lean to the side, testing.

Sure enough, he re-angles his soul for you again, almost on instinct, and when he realizes how badly he’s given himself away, a nervous drop of sweat beads along the side of his skull.

“Papyrus… Why are you trying to ‘dark side of the moon’ your soul?”

“………”

You frown.

“Papyrus.”

“It’s! Not Very Nice, To Look At, Over There,” he confesses, admitting defeat. “Wouldn’t You Rather Just…Look At The Light Side? Like The Moon? The Moon Is Lovely, Nobody Needs To See—”

“I want to see,” you tell him, firmly.

His meddling hands…reluctantly retreat.

Leaving you free to take Papyrus’ soul in your grasp and see what all the fuss was about.

He was right, that the deep scar on the other side of his soul wasn’t particularly pretty—imperfectly healed, a gnarled silver streak across glowing white.

But when you touch him, his innermost self, it’s also…

Soft and impossibly delicate, like holding a single page of scritta paper between your fingers.

Cold steel, stainless and nigh unbreakable, fit to outlast anything.

Malleable marzipan and slippery olive oil, sweet and light and…weird, just a little offbeat.

A steady thrumming, beneath your fingers, like a heart; a strong, steady pulse.

“Thought so,” you say at length, gently trailing your fingers over Papyrus’ soul.

“Thought What?” he asks.

His hands are wringing in his lap, already anxious, so you decide not to make him wait for your answer.

“I love all of you,” you explain. “Not just the ‘pretty’ parts.”

And oh, Papyrus’ eye-sockets sparkle.

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

The way Sans looks at his own soul, you’d think he’d never seen it before.

His eye-lights are blown wide in their sockets, that soft shade of gray you’ve come to love so much filled with nothing less than total surprise.

Like he’s not even sure of what he’s seeing.

It doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary to you.

It’s just…a normal monster soul, an upside down heart shape made of glowing white light.

Maybe…he sees something you don’t?

“Everything okay…?” you ask, and Sans finally blinks.

“huh? oh…yeah…yeah, nothing’s……”

He trails off a moment.

“i just……never seen it this bright before…”

Oh.

If you had to make a guess, you’d say that that’s a very, very good thing.

…and it makes you want to hold his soul in your hands even more.

“So…can I…?”

“oh yeah, sure. heheh, go for it—just be gentle.”

As if you would do anything less.

You scoop Sans’ soul up, cradling it in your palms.

It feels like…

Standing in the rain without an umbrella, letting the droplets pelt your skin.

A window pane under your hand, cold, flat, and even.

Soft white noise, unidentifiable yet soothing.

A glass of milk and a fistful of semisweet chocolate chips, plain and simple—uncomplicated.

“This is…beyond cool,” you say, because frankly, it is.

Sans smiles.

You love it when he smiles, the way the expression seems to weaken the dark circles beneath his eye-sockets.

Apparently, it also makes his soul glow just a little bit brighter, and you like that even more.

You think you’ll just have to make Sans smile as much as you possibly can.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

“SO…YOU’RE CLEAR, YES? WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?”

You nod.

Papyrus’ concise explanation of the synesthetic experience that was holding a soul had been as well-crafted as one of his lectures, and just as informative.

Perceiving all of him, through all of your senses at once, is an exciting prospect to be sure.

“AND…YOU UNDERSTAND? WHAT IT MEANS?”

“I think so…” Which of course, makes you wonder… “Are you sure you want me to…?”

Papyrus smiles, the corners of his eye-sockets crinkling with gentle amusement…and a hint of self-deprecation.

“IT’S SWEET OF YOU TO ASK,” he says. “BUT…DO YOU REALLY THINK WE’D BE HERE IF I WASN’T ABSOLUTELY SURE?”

………

He has a point.

You remember how terribly flustered Papyrus would get, back at the beginning of your relationship—unable to hold your hand without starting to sweat and stammering over his words like you’d suggested something lewd instead.

He seems perfectly calm now, not even blushing (…you think—the pale, pearly color of his magic makes it nearly impossible to tell).

“Alright… You’re sure.”

Without further ado, your grasp Papyrus’ soul with careful hands.

He’s warm, steaming chai, sugar cubes dissolving within.

Picking an autumn leaf up off the ground, bright yet fragile.

Fingers trailing over smooth, worn leather.

A soft, slow sound, like breathing beside you in bed in the middle of the night.

You gently stroke your thumb over the surface of Papyrus’ soul.

He sighs when you do, eye-sockets falling shut.

Trusting himself wholly in your hands.

“Oh Dear-Heart,” he breathes, his voice going quiet. “I Love You…”

You know.

The feeling is very much mutual.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

“So…I just…touch it?”

Sans’ big phalanges curl, his wrist flicking twice—“yeah.”

Seems simple enough, you suppose?

Under Sans’ watchful red eye-light, you reach forward…

“wa—it…!”

You jump, your eyes going wide, and the soul darts away from your fingers but you don’t care about that.

Sans’ pained grimace is far more important to you right now, seeing his knuckles pressed against his throat as if to soothe the ache.

“Use your hands!” you exclaim fretfully with concern, grasping at his claws and pulling them out in front of him.

You’d learned sign for a reason, and it wasn’t so Sans could hurt himself trying to make words out loud with a voice that seared and stung him so painfully.

“i know,” he assures you, looking chagrined. “i know, i… sorry. i…panicked, a little.”

More than a little, you almost say, but don’t.

You’re sure it was hard enough already for him to admit, even peripherally, that he’d been…scared.

“Are you okay now? Because…we don’t have to—”

“no,” Sans signs, forcefully. “i want to. i just…i wasn’t ready. i am now. you can… you can go ahead.”

Well… so long as he’s sure.

You reach again, moving slowly this time so Sans can see exactly what you’re doing, where your hands are going…

Wrapping ever so gently around the faintly cracked white soul glowing before you.

It feels like…

Tightening your grip on a handful of hot sand, making it slip away though your fingers even as the heat starts to hurt.

The high, droning cry of cicadas in the dead of summer.

Wool, clean but unprocessed—a thick tangle of softness just shy of raw.

Earthy rye bread and sharp black coffee, warm and fragrant.

Just as slow and steady as you took it in your hands, you pass it back.

Sans takes it, absorbing it back into his chest.

His grin is crooked, almost sheepish.

“so…what’s the damage?”

You sigh, regretfully.

“I’m so sorry…I don’t know how to tell you this, Sans, but…I think you might be baby.”

“…what,” Sans signs, even as that cute hissing sound you’d come to realize was his laughter fills the air, his shoulders bouncing.

“I’m sure this is very upsetting news,” you continue. “It’s a terminal condition, to be just baby, but—mphmh!”

Sans’ hand settles over half of your face, muffling your words.

But he’s still laughing, so you think you’re alright.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

“YOU REALIZE, OF COURSE, THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS,” Papyrus says.

His needle-sharp phalanges locked tightly around your hands, the stern and imperious look upon his skull as he tells you so…

You’d be hard-pressed not to realize that this was important.

The scarred yet lovely white soul hovering almost hauntingly between you, awaiting your touch, only adds to the gravitas of the moment.

Papyrus releases your hands.

You don’t move.

He stares at you a moment, taking you in.

And then he reaches for you.

The backs of his claws light carefully on your cheek, stroking slow and purposeful.

“…I LOVE YOU, MY JEWEL,” he says, quietly; matter of fact. “THERE ISN’T ANOTHER SOUL ALIVE I’D ALLOW TO DO THIS. YOU KNOW THAT…YES?”

“Yes,” you answer, because you do know it.

As aloof and closed off and even mean as Papyrus once was…once he let you in, you were in, and he never made you doubt that.

You take his soul in your hands.

The sound of wind, gale-force, rushing past your ears.

Pressing down on a healing bruise, testing the fading soreness.

More heat than sweet, peppery cayenne overpowering a faint hint of juicy pomegranate.

Curling your fingers around the stem of a rose, just lightly enough that the thorns don’t prick you.

Papyrus is…a singular sort of skeleton, not the easiest to get close to by any means of the word.

But you’re here, holding all that he is in the palm of your hands, at his own invitation.

You raise his soul and press a kiss to its scuffed and wounded surface, feeding all your intent into the gesture.

I love you, too.

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kingofthewilderwest · 7 years

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HTTYD ask meme. Thanks for the prompts!

4. The chicken is not amused. What did you do wrong?

My poetry was good. Too good. It was better than Tuffnut’s. No one is allowed to trump Tuffnut. I was thrown in prison.

15. Suggest a new dragon species. What does it look like? What are its powers? etc.

I think a dragon with dragonfly wings could look really fun. The dragon has four wings, all long, elliptical, and translucent. It buzzes and flies quickly. Maybe this is a dragon that spits acid. Hehe, I don’t know, there are so many possibilities!

17. Any underappreciated dragon species you want to give a callout to?

Death Song. I don’t know that this dragon is necessarily underappreciated, but I could talk a long time about this thing. The Death Song is interesting in many respects - from its insect-like appearance, to its adaptations to trap its prey in amber, to the fact that its primary food source is other dragons. The design on this dragon I find very unique and cool. Give it up for the Death Song!

19. The dragon riders can visit anywhere in the world, any place in history. Where would you suggest they go?

I feel like this is such a stereotypical answer, but I want the dragon riders to go to China. When in China exactly, I don’t mind... there are many centuries of possibility and many different dynasties where I think the dragon riders could have great experiences. China has such a long, wonderful, enormous respect and story for dragons. I think Hiccup would love to see another civilization that pays dragons respect - a culture that in fact often sees dragons as protectors.

22. What do you think the dragon riders are like as old women and men?

Hiccup mellows out by his older years. He’s someone who has found tranquility and peace of mind. There’s a sense of confidence and wisdom in his faded green eyes, an individual who has gained this from his many years of successful and revolutionary chiefing. Hiccup holds himself still with a sense of humble pride even when his back starts to stoop. He has many stories to tell, and he will recount them to many people who are willing. “There were dragons when I was a boy...”

Astrid has mellowed out a little, too. She’s still got a fierce sparkle in her eye, and will crack a few comments to the others in her tribe about picking up their axe and tackling the problem head on. But that gentle, sympathetic side which has always been a part of her has grown monumentally. It almost makes it more powerful to be around Astrid, now that she has it. There is also a sense of calm confidence about her; nothing will shake her up.

Snotlout is probably the most crotchety out of the group when he reaches old age. He’s going to grumble about anything and everything, down to the weather being slightly chilly. He’ll keep pretending he’s as fit and strong as ever, still stubborn about admitting weakness: “I hate the weather outside. Not that it makes my joints hurt, they don’t hurt, but they probably make someone’s joints hurt. I don’t like it. It should be sunny.”

Ruffnut and Tuffnut are still a duo. They spend more time apart than they did as youths, but it’s still more often than not you’ll see them together. They’ve maintained a chipper attitude in their later years. They’re very likely to sit about the Great Hall, cracking jokes (some very inappropriate for younger ears), but there’s also a little more maturity that you can sense behind them. I have a weird sense that they might be a little more spiritually involved in the tribe in their later years - not quite the level of Gothi - but still pretty knowledgeable. Especially about Loki. It’s always going to be Loki for them.

Fishlegs adores children. He’s enthusiastic about having them gather around him - on his lap, sitting on his shoulders, pulling at his hair - and he’ll tell them everything and anything in an enthusiastic voice. He becomes quite the teller of stories of dragons he’s discovered or adventures he’s had. Fishlegs has become a great historian for the tribe. He’s recorded much in books and has so much knowledge in his mind. Almost everyone enjoys spending time with him.

37. Favorite track in the HTTYD or HTTYD 2 OST?

Definitely Dragon Racing. It’s a suite of all the well-known themes from the first HTTYD movie, arranged together in an extraordinarily energetic and well-organized rondo form. Not to mention it’s got superb instrumentation! I listen to this song and all I ever want to do is jump up and dance. Sometimes I do!

45. Have any HTTYD OCs?

Ish. I’ve made a few suggestions for children of the dragon riders. The one I’m the most enthusiastic about and sold on is Katja Kari Haddock, one of the children of Hiccup and Astrid. She’s an adventurous spirit and has a bit too much of her father’s impulsivity.

56. Suggest a DreamWorks Dragons episode plot.

I would do anything for them to take “How to Cheat a Dragon’s Curse” and turn it into a RTTE episode. Sure, people could say that it’s similar to Buffalord Soldier... but just think... that book in all its unfettered glory as an episode! I think it’d work really well! Fishlegs is dying from the sting of a Venomous Vorpent. Ruffnut and Hiccup have to get a potato from an extraordinarily wild group of dangerous Vikings (we could make it Astrid and Hiccup, but I think Ruffnut’s a great fit for this episode, and I’m all for entertaining and unique team duos). It’d just be such a funny and entertaining adventure.

58. You have to give each of the dragon riders awards. What awards do you give everyone?

Hehehehe I forgot I’d talked about this.

65. Let's be mean. How do you think each of the dragon riders will die?

Ohohohohooooooo let’s go.

Tuffnut is the first to die of their friendship group. He dies in that gray area between middle age and old age. His body doesn’t hold up well from all the ridiculous things he did in his younger years, and it gives out on him. Tuffnut collapses in his house one day; they aren’t able to save him. Ruffnut is very withdrawn for a few weeks following, and stays quiet for a few months after, but she is at a point in her life where she can handle the loss of her twin with pretty good fortitude.

Snotlout dies next a few years later. It’s an accident with a dragon. There was a rowdy monstrous nightmare that Snotlout was trying to calm for one of the younger individuals of Berk. The monstrous nightmare didn’t mean any harm but... well... it got scared... and accidents happen.

I imagine Hiccup and Astrid both die of old age, fairly peacefully, fairly painlessly. I wrote one story where Astrid, in her old age, gets sick and dies before Hiccup. Hiccup is there at her bedside as she draws her last breaths. It’s an illness that would have been easy to recover from in younger years... but now, it takes her life.

Fishlegs dies in his old age. Maybe it’s a heart attack - the Vikings wouldn’t know with their medicine.

I imagine that Hiccup and Ruffnut live the longest. Hiccup dies in his sleep. Ruffnut slowly watches her health fade, she gets more and more fragile, until it’s time to go to Valhalla.

68. What made you fall in love with How to Train Your Dragon?

I don’t remember, weirdly enough. You’d think I would... it came out when I was in high school... but I don’t remember my specific reason. I remember enjoying Toothless acting like a kitty and the music being stupendous the first time I left the theatre. My love of HTTYD was something that renewed itself in 2014 with the approach of HTTYD 2. I know I fell in love with HTTYD 2 because of the powerful bittersweet and relatable emotions it conveyed... that was powerful and I ate it up.

70. What is the BEST thing (to you) about HTTYD and its franchise?

Its message of hope. How to Train Your Dragon, both the books and the movies, goes through some gnarly events. But even through all the darkness and danger, there remains a certain enchantment and sense of hope throughout the stories. HTTYD retains a magic... a dream... an image of flying freely on the back of a dragon. It gives us a sense of inspiration. Our spirits are uplifted when we see the dragons fly. When we see Hiccup save the day. When we enter the world of Berk and dragon-riding Vikings.

#long post #httyd ask meme #ask meme #meme #blabbing Haddock #ask #ask me #cobaltqueen #seabloods #awesome anonymous friend #anonymous

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