#HELLO!!! thank you for the ask again!!!!

[amrv-5]

dream, remember, glass (u don’t have to do all 3 i’m just nosy 🫣)

ACK HELLO and THANK YOU for the ASK!!! great picks and great guesses these were all in there!!!!!! below the cut for length:

First, dream—not actually too many of "dream" straight up. This is the only instance that isn't, like, "dreamy" or "dreaming," janked from my upcoming M*A*S*H fic olympics etc:

HAWK: You think that now, but it just isn’t the case. This place—it’s an aberration. The second you touch down at home, it’ll slip away. Like a dream. And me with it. And that’s alright.

Aaaand for "remember" we've got a no-context-given Beejhawk moment from S2G2:2:Untitled Boogaloo:

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said, looking up at BJ, at the way the sky framed him. “She was terrible about—even when I got too old for it, she was always poking me in the ribs or the belly to make me laugh. Her second-favorite birdsong, I remember her saying. Behind mourning doves.”

Okay and there were something like 40 instances of "glass" in just the WIPs I checked, so I narrowed it down to one from each of the above:

BJ (into glass): Those were all jokes, anyway. That’s different than lying.

Erin stopped short to watch the chimes hanging from the porch rafters rattle, tinkling glass ones throwing fractured rainbows in every direction, wood chimes clubbing together hollowly, a massive metallic collection of tubes at the back of the porch clanging like church bells, a green sea glass wind chime clinking unobtrusively nearest the stairs. 

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

[puppyeared]

The garment, worn by those in good standing with Hyrule royalty, has been reworked with the latest improvements, such as a new shoulder guard.

[yakny]

COME ON BABY, DON'T FEAR THE REAPER

[the-toybox-general]

You thought I would return to bestow Mario art, yet I return with human forms of the three birds from Lobotomy Corporation...!!! ( Judgement Bird was given one eye back )

[thatdeadaquarius]

I was playing Genius Invocation yesterday, but out of nowhere this idea came to me like tge whispers of an old god.

How would the characters react to knowing they are the creator's favorite card? (Mine are Beidou and Ningguang, but if you are confortable, I would like to know yours as well)

AHDAALLL I HAVENT PLAYED TGI CARD GAME ENOUGH!! SO FOR NOW I RLLY LOVE THE WAY CYNO AND KAEYA'S ART LOOKS (tho diluc does look shmall in his hehe)

Thank you for your patience!! Sorry this is SO FUCKING late :0 and if it’s bad! i havent rlly liked my writing the past couple pieces, so i stuck with some fun headcanons i thought of while kicking me feet and twirling my hair over this question hehehe

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only)

Planet: General SAGAU/Isekai Stuff :)

Orbit: Headcanons

Stars: Beidou, Ningguang, Kaeya, Cyno

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

��

Beidou:

BIGGEST EGO BOOSTS OF HER LIFE LMAO

SHE WOULD LITERALLY SUBTLY FLEX EVERYTIME UR AROUND IM CRYINGGG

Every fucking port knows she’s a favored one, every goddamn pirate knows it atp, hell maybe even some abyss monsters at sea too-

(Kazuha’s happy for her, but also lowkey jealous)

literally got one of her cards framed and hung in her captain’s quarters, and insisted you sign it omfg-

Ningguang isnt surprised tbh, (she knows u like strong women lol)

Ningguang:

…she gives one of the most smug smirks of her entire fucking life.

All of Liyue is gushing for her, not that she isn’t also excited on the inside, she’s just more proud than anything on the outside/for appearances

Literally set up a whole date meeting that felt like it was about to turn into a goddamn wedding proposal

I’m talking giving handcarved furniture, household necessities but they’re in pretty colors that all match (like a gold tea kettle, gold throw blanket, etc.)

Full nine-yards different kinds of teas, cakes, and all accustomed to your taste

so if u dislike super sweet stuff there are more savory items, the teas can be more bitter, or if u love sweets, this woman is giving you a bakery basically every day for nearly 2 weeks, u dont have enough space in the cabinet for all these teas- help-

Kaeya:

so fucking smug on the outside, def brags about it in Angel’s Share and he’ll only just be tipsy he’s so fucking excited to talk abt it

whenever conversations end or get a lull, he just, “So anyway, our All-Powerful Guide, really likes my TCG card, maybe even above yours, Diluc…”

pls stop him he’s annoying Diluc, and slowly other patrons 😭 (there are bar rules posted on the wall, and Diluc adds one, not for the first time, specifically for Kaeya to stop talking about TCG while in the bar LMAO)

Now all Kaeya has to do is just pull out his card (cough he’s constantly got it in his pocket, the one he asked u to sign cough)

Rosaria just looks the other way like if she can’t see it it’s not real, Diluc will literally be in the middle of making a drink for one of them and just leave it halfdone and attend to somebody else, Venti’s eye twitches-

and the entire bar just groans too LMAOOO

(have a meme I made just for you <3 )

Cyno:

oh no.

Look what you’ve done, you’ve seduced the General Mahamatra!!

Take responsibility, play TCG with him every time you see him now lmao, the only reason all of Sumeru knows you like his card (which makes it all that more desirable to ppl who do play, and collectors)

is bc he talked to Tighnari about it for hourssss, and then it made it’s way down the grapevine, and if they didn’t find out that way, the other was just seeing the usually stern and formidable General Mahamatra nearly vibrate out of his headpiece when you come near him every time you visit

Cyno weirdly gains like, 20x the luck when ur either playing against him, or sitting watching him play someone else, he’s struggling to find partners tbh bc “you’re my lucky charm? Of course I’m winning more.”

When you initially told him about him being one of ur fav cards, he literally looked like there was a loading sign over his head… Then proceeded to nearly break your ribs hugging you so hard, and nearly take ur eye out with the ears on his headpiece lol

☆

Sorry if all my writings shit for these past 2 posts! Idk im just thinking its not so good rn and idk how to fix it-

anyway I’ve started playing Breath of the Wild over the past like 2-3 months I think, and it’s amazingggg

I may or may not be both getting gender envy and also a huge crush on Link help-

Safe Travels Wandering Lantern,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

An iced coffee? For me??

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

[intotheelliwoods]

Hi! uhm- i love your content your literally amazing and your artstyle is adorable and i love your 2al story so i made fanart! it’s supposed to be sprout but he looks more like poptart 🥲 but anyway thank you for reading and making super awesome content and i hope you have an amazing day/night and your literally awesome sauce (this is also my first ask ever 😅😅 i’m sorry if it’s awkward 🥲)

AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH! 🥺

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

just got a call for an interview and answered the phone with The worst voicecrack of my life, im Wheezing

[saphira-approves]

Can I come and tell you my deepest pain?

We should have had Morzan alive. I mean yeah, it would fuck up the whole narrative but imagine Murtagh being afraid of his father. He hates the king but fears his father.

Imagine him and Thorn; Morzan sees them, and he has problems with booze in canon, just how drunk he'd have gotten after Thorn learned to talk? There he is with his nameless dragon, half of his heart and soul, that he had to watch descend into stupidity. (Does he have its name written up here and there, does he watch it every day just to think about how he could make it real again?) Would he dream of killing his son and taking his dragon to himself? Would he want that even though he despises that sick joke of a connection that is in between Galbatorix and Shruikan?

And then Galbatorix finally discovers the name of the names. How would he beg for the king to use it to heal his companion?

Also, it would be very funny to watch our main characters run for their lives with an angry dragon after them, but y'know.

Should I write a fic about this

Oh you absolutely should write a fic about this (and let me know when you do! I’d love to read it!), and I should go back through my WIPs to find my time travel AUs…

I usually write more about Selena than Morzan, but I do love the idea of getting to see grown-up Murtagh’s reaction to seeing his father, especially in a context where Murtagh has lived without him for a while—whether that’s because Brom didn’t kill Morzan and Selena got both her sons to Carvahall, or because resurrection or time travel shenanigans happened.

As for Morzan still being around when Murtagh gets captured… I think there’s a 50/50 chance he gets Real Weird about the torture, in a “I was pretty sure up to this point that I didn’t actually care about my son but now my best friend is torturing My Son and I don’t like it actually” way, and I think that would be really fun to explore; I think, also, that when Thorn hatches and Galbatorix prematurely increases his size, Morzan would again be Real Weird about it because, like, that’s a baby dragon the size of an adult. He hasn’t lost his name, he just hasn’t really developed one yet; he’s a weird, warped mirror of Morzan’s own dragon. And when Thorn does, eventually, with difficulty, start to ‘grow up’, Morzan’s probably going to get twitchy about it—it’s been at least a century, more than two thirds of his lifespan, since he’s even MET a somewhat psychologically stable dragon; how much has he forgotten of their true intelligence, their real personalities? And when Galbatorix does find The Word, if Morzan asks him to heal his own dragon… honestly I don’t know if Galbatorix would be able to. Having power and knowing how to use it are two different things, we saw Murtagh figure that out in his own book with The Word. Would the king even know where to start? Would he allow Morzan to try for himself? Morzan probably wouldn’t have a clue where to begin, all we ever hear about him from people who’d met him is that he’s a powerful spellcaster, but not a very clever one.

Honestly, the whole situation might drive Morzan to split from Galbatorix; and even if not, it would still probably drive Morzan to be extremely destructive, to himself and everyone around him.

Also he’d be so pissed to learn about Eragon’s true parentage. Not even in a “my wife cheated on me?!” way but in a “oh my god can Brom stop being SO OBSESSED with me for FIVE MINUTES” kind of way.

[hailsatanacab]

Are you still doing the wip ask game? If so, can i ask about number 5?

I love this one and I'm so embarrassed that it's still a wip oh no!!!! This should have been completed a long time ago to celebrate hitting 1,000 followers but uh... it sorta snowballed into way more than I thought it would and this cute little oneshot is now way more than that. Whoops.

It started as a @stealingyourbones prompt that I added on to, which you can read here! Then I posted a wee little wip wednesday sneak peek, and this snippet (is it still a snippet if it's over 1k words?) carries on from there :)

👻🦇👻

Danny doesn’t join him for what is, unexpectedly, a pretty great meal.

“Holy shit, you guys,” he murmurs, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You’re missing out.”

“Come on, Jay, it can’t be as good as the Big Bat Deluxe.” Dick whines in his ear. “You love those.”

“No, I love the Red Hot Hood Bites. That’s all I get at Bat Burger, and don’t let me hear you telling the others that I get anything else.”

“Please, Jason, don’t think we don’t have everyone’s BB order on file, who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Fuck off, Timbits. Go eat at Red Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you!”

Jason elects to tune out the ensuing list of threats in favour of finishing his burger. He’s heard them all before and he’s like 80% sure that Tim won’t actually hide his body in a Red Robin—if only because it wouldn’t take the World’s Greatest Detective to figure out who did it and he'd be so deep in the fucking shit that he may as well join Jason.

Aside from the food (seriously, that sauce! He’s going to need to rustle up a copycat or something, he can’t leave here without a recipe), the Nasty Burger is a pretty sad affair.

It’s a little run down, the vinyl covers on the seats peeling and suspiciously sticky, and incredibly quiet. The only other people around are the two teens behind the counter, bored and on their phones, and two kids, probably around Danny’s age, sitting in the corner quietly arguing amongst themselves. There’s an ungodly amount of food in front of them, but only the guy seems to be eating.

Jason sighs and looks at the rapidly cooling Supremely Nasty Meal meant for Danny. Taking a few of the fries won’t hurt, will it?

He peels the paper bag away from the greasy mess and digs in. Huh, they really skimped on his lot, there’s only like half a carton in here.

“So, you gonna bring us back something or are we going to have to starve?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“What a shame,” Timbo starts, with a theatrical air, “for I am still trying to decide whether or not to tell you everything I’ve learnt about the Fentons. Perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement?”

“You finally made yourself useful and got through those firewalls?”

“Yeah, once I managed to get my hands on a native laptop. It’s weird, but whatever was keeping out my tech lets anything bought directly from Amity in. Having such localised security—to the point where even my stuff can’t penetrate?— is beyond strange. I don’t like it.”

Jason leans back, and reaches for Danny’s milkshake, finding it surprisingly light when he lifts it up. Seriously, what is with the half portions here? He turns round and glares at the spotty teen behind the counter, who doesn’t look up from his phone. Whatever. It's not like Danny’s going to drink it anyway.

Looks like the two kids in the corner have made up, if their stifled laughter is anything to go by. Most of their own food is gone now, too, so perhaps the real reason it’s called the Nasty Burger is because they stiff you on the food.

“This place is weird.” says Dick, in a rare case of being right.

“You don’t know the half of it…” Tim sighs but doesn’t offer up anything else.

Jason’s been trying his best to ignore it.

The weirdness, that is.

There’s an electrical charge in the air so strong it almost feels like he’s swimming through static. Each breath makes his steps bounce like he’s walking on the moon. If he turns too quickly, if he stands up too fast, his head spins like he's breathing too much oxygen.

No matter what Tim thinks he knows, it’s not the full weirdness of Amity Park, Jason's sure about that. Being here itches under his skin, and he resolves not to delve any deeper into it. Not with the way the green swims on the edges of his vision. 

The sooner they figure out what’s happening here, the better.

“What’s your price?” 

“Two Supremes and a six pack of Nasty Nuggies. Cake shake with two shots of espresso.”

Jason rolls his eyes as Dick splutters in concern.

“Shake and espresso? Tim, you have a problem.”

“It’s just a frappuccino. There’s no difference.”

“Then get a frappuccino.”

“I want a shake.”

“Then there's a difference! And the difference is that Alfred will kill us for enabling you!”

“As riveting as watching Timberly’s mental and physical wellbeing disappear before our very eyes is, what’s your info?”

“The same for me, please!” Dick butts in, yet again. “Except with a coke instead, because I’m normal.”

Both Tim and Jason snort. 

“Yeah, not gonna touch that. Tim, info, come on.”

“Alright, alright. Hey, so, what’s your favourite thing about being adopted?”

“Tim, I swear to God, if you don’t get to the point right now, I’ll—”

“You’re right! It’s that none of us are actually related to you.”

“And yet somehow, I’m still stuck with you all. Point, Tim, get to it.”

He grabs the burger meant for Danny and begins to unwrap it. If he has to listen to Tim being all smug about whatever he’s found out, he’s doing it with a burger in hand.

“Did you know that Willis Todd’s Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather was a Nightingale?”

“What’s a Nightingale? Aside from the obvious.”

“A Nightingale is about two generations away from becoming a Fenton.”

“Oh, what the fuck? You cannot be serious!”

“Serious as a cake shake with two espressos in it.”

“No, my… Someone ate my other fucking burger!”

Danny’s burger has a huge, bite-sized chunk taken out of it. Literal teeth marks in the bun. A slice of tomato slops limply onto the table, painting his shirt with splatters of weak tomato juice, the red half moon taunting him. Sauce dribbles out mournfully.

The two kids in the corner are staring openly now, faces red with how hard they’re laughing.

Jason sinks into his chair with a groan.

This fucking town. 

Is this how they treat outsiders? Take bites of their burgers while they laugh on—but then why only do it to his spare and not both meals? The teenagers behind the counter aren't even paying any attention, so why bother pulling a prank like this if you're not going to—

Danny.

Jason whips his head around as if he can catch the invisible little shit, but just like on the street, there's no sign of him.

Has he been here the whole time, invisibly eating the food Jason offered him? Except the packaging was still perfectly wrapped, the sticker still attached, how in the hell had he managed to eat the burger without damaging it? Did he get to it in the kitchen? Or does he—

“Wait, hold up. What the fuck did you just say?”

[2aceofspades]

I too am analyzing your art!!!

analyzing.....analyzing.....analyzing....*ding!*

hmmm.... according to these results, it appears that the artist is majorly talented, adept at breaking hearts with angst, all while bing a major cutie!!!

Such amazing results!!! (￣y▽￣)╭

~-- --- .-. ... . / .- -. --- -.

MORSE ANON!! WAH-!!

Staaaawp gaaw you're too sweet 🥹🥹 Thank you so much ohmigosh!!!

I mean, those do sound like some pretty good results hehe~

(:

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

hello!

so i had a thought/request thing: prussia x reader sound of music au?

Oh I absolutely LOVE that thought!

I took a little creative license in this fic (which I will elaborate on in the after-notes), but ultimately I directly referenced some of my favorite scenes from the film.

Thank you for sending me the ask, and I hope you enjoy!

The children were finally asleep.

A spring storm had rolled in- a welcome relief to the dry heat which had plagued the city for several long days- but the thunder had troubled them.

You were hardly surprised when first a timid Ludvig came to your room, followed only moments later by Monika. It took a few more claps of thunder and flickering lights for Friedrich to appear, claiming with false bravado that he had come to make sure that you were safe.

You had distracted them from their fears, though some- such as the loud protests which continued with each passing day, the strange men seen lurking outside the house, and the current absence of their guardian- Some fears couldn't be assuaged.

But children were easy enough to sway from their dark thoughts, and you always had a gift for embellishing the truth. 

This time, you chose not to rely on the ditty you had taught them several weeks prior (though you could hear Ludvig repeating 'whiskers on kittens' to himself), but instead crafted a tale of heroism about their big brother, one that soon worked its magic, all three falling asleep by the time the storm had settled into gentle rainfall, curled together atop your blankets.

Unfortunately, their restless energy had passed onto you, and after several moments of staring at the ceiling, you carefully, quietly, slipped out from beneath the covers, tugging on a nearby robe, and sliding on a pair of slippers before making your way to the library.

Time passed without your knowledge; you had found an old disc of American singers to play on the gramophone, and quickly tucked yourself into a novella that had caught your interest several days prior. It was a pleasant distraction, almost successful in keeping your frazzled thoughts from running wild. 

Had his work run late? Had there been an accident? Had one of those radicals done something that was meant to look like an accident? Had-

The distant, sudden sound of the front door closing had you glancing towards the grandfather clock, that flicker of worry sparking to life once more as you noted the lateness of the hour.

His work often brought with it long hours, but this, even by his standards, was alarming.

You were relieved to hear his footsteps, and knew you must content yourself with the knowledge that he had at least made it home safely. He had, after all, made it perfectly clear some time ago that his welfare was none of your concern.

In vain, you tried to return to your book, but to your chagrin the combination of the gramophone's crackling, the tapping of raindrops on the windowpanes, and the nearing, shuffling footsteps kept you from falling back into the story. You feigned interest however as a familiar figure entered the doorway.

For a moment, he said nothing, silently studying you. You were hyper-aware of his gaze, were certain he could hear the panicked rush of your heartbeat, could see the heat dancing on your cheeks.

Finally, he spoke, your given name tumbling out almost as a sigh, and to your embarrassment it caused you to jump, startled by its presence in your already frenzied state.

You turned to face him directly, seeing his hand hanging uselessly in the air, looking for everything like a guilty schoolboy. In another circumstance, you could have laughed, seeing the normally rigid Captain so timid and unsure of himself. "Sorry! Sorry, I..." His words trailed off, the hand falling back to his side, all emotion gone from his features once more. "May I join you?"

No, you wanted to say, I'm not sure I could trust myself if you stay.

But your voice was welcoming him in, and you straightened your posture as he took the chair opposite you.

You tried once more to feign interest in your book, but your eyes kept straying from the page, unable to stop yourself from studying his features in the warm light, taken in by the vulnerability, small as it was, he was granting you, clearly beyond weary.

Your curiosity could no longer be helped. "Are you well, Herr Beilschmidt?"

A small smile flickered to life, half-formed and fragile, those peculiar scarlet eyes finding yours, your name once more slipping past his lips. "I thought we agreed you would call me Gilbert when we were alone?"

For a moment, he was no longer a Captain, not Herr Beilschmidt, but any other man, a man who could even become-

But that could not be, and you wouldn't allow your fantasies to jeopardize your work, couldn't bear the thought of being parted from the children. "I agreed to no such thing, Herr Beilschmidt."

He released a pained sort of sound, reminiscent of a scoff, and it prompted just enough of your ire for you to press onward with your curiosity. "You were out late this evening."

You couldn't fully conceal your concern, and it was clear that he had detected it, those eyes somber once more, studious and strategic.

Fearful of what he may find, you spoke once more, hiding the inconvenient truth with another, sweeter one. "The children missed you at dinner."

His study lingered, lips parting as if he were going to speak, before he dismissed it, a sadness surrounded him in its absence. "How were they today?"

This was neutral territory, familiar ground, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief. You began a retelling of the day's adventures, embellishing your words with a whimsy that had often earned you others' disdain. But G- Herr Beilschmidt- was amused, laughing at your failed attempt to mimic Friedrich's angered voice at Monika for daring to stick a frog in his pocket.

"And Luddy?"

Your smile softened at thoughts of the youngest Beilschmidt. "A dear as always. He insisted upon baking a cake with me earlier." The words triggered another memory, a more urgent one, and you rose with a suddenness that caused him to jump. "Pardon me; I forgot that we saved a slice for you! Excuse me for a moment?"

You didn't wait for his reply, already sweeping towards the open doorway, forgetting in your rush to grab a candle, the electric having gone down several hours ago.

The corridor loomed before you, quiet and filled with the darkness of the midnight hour. In the face of that alien light, your footsteps faltered, suddenly uncertain of a path you had tread dozens of times.

A warm presence appeared at your side, a gentle hand pressing to your lower back, as he fell into step beside you, carrying one of the candles. "Allow me?"

Your skin burned beneath the weight of his hand, memories of the party several nights before now dancing to the surface at his nearness.

How you wished you could turn him away now, but fear of the ghosts still haunting these ancients halls and nameless monsters lurking in the shadows far overpowered your fears of revealing your heart.

Slowly, quietly, you charted the course to the kitchen, and you were grateful to finally be able to step away, allowing yourself a moment to breathe, reign in your traitorous thoughts.

The ghost of his touch still remained however, and you busied yourself with pulling the cake from the ice box, pleasantly surprised to discover some remaining cream as well.

He had taken a seat at the small table often used by the house staff, several more candles lit in front of him. You were surprised to see he had pulled out two forks, standing and gesturing to the empty chair beside him. "Please; join me."

You should have taken your leave.

You should have made your excuses and retired for the evening.

But there was something so hopeful in his expression, and you couldn't resist the sway he held over you.

For a time, there were no words shared between you, the only sound the symphony of the falling rain, the distant notes of the gramophone, and the irregularity of silver tines clinking against porcelain.

"We should discuss what happened at the party."

His voice was unexpected, words hanging in the air with a tension you were loathe to acknowledge.

There was nothing to discuss, not to your mind.

He was betrothed to another, and he was your employer.

It could never be anything more, even if you should so desperately wish for it.

Still, you would always have those memories, safely locked away into your heart: Monika sighing, fondly watching the sparkling couples gliding across the ballroom floor, Ludvig pestering you with questions about the musicians, and Friedrich earnestly trying to master the Allemande with you, before Gilbert was unexpectedly cutting in, offering the children a brief history lesson even as he fell perfectly into step, words soon falling away, sparkling burgundy eyes locking with your own.

With each step, you felt your fragile defenses weakening, was certain he was drawing you nearer with every turn. Each clasp of hands sent a spark through your pulse, every point of contact buzzing with restless energy. As you took your final turn in a dance meant for four, you were met with a warm smile which stole the little breath you had left, and you were drowning in a wine-dark sea.

The spell was broken with Julchen's applause, surprise to see her home from university enough to distract the others, though Gilbert was slow to release your hand, lingering, before he finally drifted over to join his younger siblings.

You couldn't fathom why he should wish to discuss the ordeal now of all times, though to say it hadn't been on your mind, replaying in your thoughts for the past several weeks, would be a lie.

"You hired me to watch over your brothers and sisters, and I care for them dearly."

Your focus remained on the chocolate crumbs remaining on the plate, dark flecks against the otherwise pristine, pastel pink petals.

Even as he spoke your name once more, you did not turn to him, unable to face him. "Only the children?"

"No," you admitted, before you recognized your slip and quickly tried to rectify it. "Yes!" Trying to redirect his thoughts, you interrupted him before he could speak. "Isn't it right that I should care for them?"

You finally turned to him, praying your mask would hold, even as you once again found yourself the subject of his scrutiny. He was bewildered, clearly not expecting this turn.

"Of course it's right."

You saw another opening, one that could perhaps save you from his suspicions. "You invited me into your home, and I am grateful to you. I'll miss them very much when you and the Baroness-"

Oh, you couldn't even speak it, for goodness sake!

But this excuse was convenient, a simple shroud, disguising your feelings behind the implication that your true worries were being parted from the children, that you only dreaded his betrothed becoming his wife because-

You could face him no longer, your attention once more drawn back to the scene in front of you, candlelight dancing in refractions on the cutlery. 

He let out a stray sound of bemusement, your given name yet again slipping from his lips in a fond murmur. "There isn't going to be a baroness."

Your attention flickered back to him almost immediately, disbelieving and concerned. "There isn't?"

"No," he hummed. There was a slant to his brow, a twist to his features which puzzled you.

"I don't understand."

His focus shifted away from you, a small smile once more flickering to life, not fading away this time but lingering, its lightness echoing in his voice. "We've called off our engagement-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," you whispered sincerely, not meaning to interrupt, but he was stunned nonetheless.

"You are?"

You nodded, unwilling to trust your voice in this moment.

His smile softened to something unreadable then, something which made your heart melt. "We both agreed that, well..." He suddenly was looking away from you, bashful in a way you didn't recognize, taking a steadying breath before he seemingly found the courage to face you once more, though his words were barely a whisper. "You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else."

At first, you were unable to comprehend his words, desperate for confirmation. "Surely you don't mean-?"

His hand found yours, gentle and insistent. "I do. I've come to love you in a way... quite unexpected. And I," he paused, his eyes seeking your own with a tremulous yearning, one which carried in his words. "Is it foolish for me to hope that you love me, too?"

You thought back to the journey which had led you here: the arguments, the compromises, the love growing ever stronger with each passing day. This house had been a cold tomb when you had first arrived, specters haunting every square meter.

But now it was your home.

The children were your home.

Gilbert was your home.

He was still waiting for your answer, both despondent and eager, and you finally allowed your mask to fall away, smiling as you raised your free hand to gently cup his cheek, your vision hazing through tears.

It was uncertain who moved first, but the kiss was all you could hope it to be: gentle, loving, with an added sweetness from the lingering tastes of cake and cream.

He sighed as you slowly drew away, the candlelight dancing in his eyes, a bright smile creasing his features.

You had made many mistakes in this life, taken many missteps, but to be blessed with this life, to find such love and a place to call home?

Somewhere along the way, you must have done something good.

One of the most notable changes was directly adjusting Gil's role compared to Captain von Trapp's. The Sound of Music carries an inherent antifascist message, which allowed me to explore more of my belief that Gilbert was a Prussian Social Democrat, a member of one of the most influential political parties directly challenging the rising fascist ideals of the growing Nazi Party. Several assassination attempts were made on members of the Social Democrats, before, ultimately, tragically, their work against the Nazi Party was overruled by vote.

I opted to keep Gil as a big brother instead of a father; I cherish the relationship they have already, and the thought of them not only losing a parent, but watching their beloved, bright brother fade away into someone they barely know- It was too good.

I spent quite sometime trying to finding a traditional German couple's dance, and even the Allemande, from the Baroque period, was intended for a group of four.

I wish this could have been longer, but at over 2000 words already. I am content.

Thank you again for the ask, and thank you so much to everyone for reading!

[playing-with-dax]

ok i am sososo sorry if youve gotten this before but im really curious.

have you ever thought about overstimulating dax or verik? would they like it? how would they react? or what are there thoughts on being overstimulated?

Ooooh 😈

I think it's been mentioned but not actually discussed!

Dax would love it.

To have you focus on a sweet spot just long enough that he's about to tap out and ask for a break. Only for you to switch to something a little less intense juuust long enough for him to catch his breath, before returning to that sweet spot. Over and over until his brain is melted.

Maybe a little palming on the head of his dick. Playing with the ridges on the underside of his shaft. Touching multiple places at once to keep his nerves on high alert. Of course, not stopping after he cums. Seeing (and hearing) that sweet mix of him wanting you to stop because it's too much, but also being desperate for you to keep going because it feels so good. Seeing how many times you can make him cum in one session.

Yeah he would definitely enjoy himself 🥵

Verik is more likely to be the one dishing it out.

He would have so much fun exploring your body and finding out what gets the most reaction. Drinking in every shiver and moan. Seeing just how much you can take~

He wouldn't enjoy being overstimulated in the same way Dax would (though he wouldn't argue with trying to cum more than once) But he would absolutely enjoy you being a tease by trying to distract him while he's trying to keep the focus on you. Touching him in ways he just can't tune out until his body gives in, and he ends up with his head on your chest. Breathing heavily. Gripping the sheets. Moaning through gritted teeth and exasperated by how good that feels and how helpless he is against the sensation 🥴

[akito-shinonome-daily]

Hi hello!!! For the fandom ask game, 19 (with pjsk, since this blog is pjsk related), 17, and/or 22 (both with akito since this is your akito blog, unless you want to do someone else (idk I’m just a tourist in this fandom))? :D

fandom ask game

17.) What's a book, movie, or show you think Akito would like?

➥ akito definitely is not a reader. he has only ever read books that were required for school. toya has tried to offer him some of the novels he enjoys, but akito just can’t do it.

➥ i do see anime fan akito tho. i’m a little torn between him liking just whatever’s mainstream and him being big into sports anime. either way i think he’s like a sleeper agent for it? he never brings any shows he’s watched up unless somehow promoted. like he sees someone performing an op at a live and is like “oh this is the op for so-and-so anime.” and an is like “why do you know that??”

➥ i never named any specific show so i’m gonna say he likes haikyu and he and toya watched death note together. and he’s been keeping up with jjk.

19.) What's your favourite thing about the pjsk fandom?

➥ this might be kinda a copout, but i like that it’s very active and has lots of people creating stuff for it all the time. it’s also just very comfy. i don’t feel like i see terribly much animosity or fighting. most people are able to be chill if they see a ship or headcanon they don’t like. that’s not to say i’ve never seen any assholes/creeps in the fandom, just that most people are able to get along and enjoy other people’s interpretations and preferences even if they’re not their own.

22.) Give us a headcanon for Akito.

➥ for headcanons i haven’t talked about before…

➥ one is lefty akito. he just has that energy to me, so i tend to draw him that way. but he leans closer to ambidextrous than your typical righty, since more stuff is designed for righties.

➥ the other one is i think akito has a decent amount of natural artistic skill. he’s never bothered to learn anything about it, so he wouldn’t be able to magically make a really good finished piece to rival ena’s, he just has a knack for capturing the likeness of something if he were to randomly go at it with a pencil. even that much annoys ena tho bc that’s not where her skills and talents lie.

[thevoidisback]

Narrator: Hello to you too my friend but next time please leave a letter📝

((So you know what I'm saying in morse code))

[bisamwilson]

hey honey! 💖 sambucky and 25. things you said in front of other people!

thanks for the ask, sweetheart <3 does something over 1k words count as a snippet oops (from this list)

"I just wasn't really feelin' it, y'know?" Sam laments to the circle of older ladies around him, sighing while they all nod along knowingly.

It's the first Thursday of the month, which means the local older women's book club is meeting in a small room off the church building where Sam's daddy had preached for twenty years, and, just like every first Thursday of the month that Sam's been in Delacroix since he was fourteen years old, Sam came by to help them set up tables and chairs for all the potluck food they bring with them.

And just like every first Thursday of the last six months since Sam and Bucky had rented a little house down here for when the world isn't on fire--last month excluded, given New York City, at least, was actually on fire--the first fifteen minutes of the local older women's book club is spent lightly interrogating Sam about his love life.

"How many of these dating app first dates have you been on, Sam?" Ms. Sheryl asks from beside him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Sam looks up at the ceiling and counts them in his head, each disappointing match after disappointing match. "Twelve in the last two months, Ms. Sheryl. Thirteen if you count the woman from NOLA I met at a jazz bar and had to leave after five minutes because an emergency mission came up. She unmatched me after that."

Ms. Sheryl nods, her lips pursed, and Sam thinks he might've accidentally just proved a point he didn't know she was making yet. "And how many of those got second dates?"

Sam's saved from having to answer that disheartening, kind-of-a-rhetorical question from the late arrival of Ms. Josephine, newcomer to both the book club and to Delacroix.

She'd moved here about a month and a half ago, about half a year after her husband had passed away, looking for a new start. Every interaction Sam's had with her thus far has been honestly lovely, and he already knows she's got a soft spot for Bucky given how much of her house he'd come over to help fix since she'd moved in. Sam's had his fair share of her "thank you" cooking, and knows full well she's as wonderful a cook as she is a lady.

"Evenin', ladies," she says, holding some kind of dish in her hand that smells downright heavenly. "And Sam," she adds with a wink, smiling when Sam takes the dish from her and sets it over on the table with the rest of the food. "What'd I miss?"

"Sam was just lamenting to us about his dating woes," Ms. Jackie replies, with a tone full of sympathy but a playful twinkle in her eye, taking Sam's hand and patting it soothingly when he comes to stand next to her, leaving his previous seat open for Ms. Josephine.

Sam laughs and squeezes Ms. Jackie's hand. "You've got a son about my age, right, Ms. Josephine? Is he single?"

All the other ladies in the room chuckle along at Sam's joke, but Ms. Josephine just looks confused. "Did something happen with you and Bucky?" she asks, concerned. "He didn't mention it when he came by to fix one of my hinges this morning."

Sam's eyebrows furrow this time around. "Not that I know of? Not unless something has happened in the last thirty minutes since I checked my phone, anyway, but he's not generally the type to call in any case."

Ms. Josephine's face morphs from confusion to contemplation, and she crosses her legs at her ankles and crosses her hands over her lap. "So are y'all in one of those relationships where you can date other people then? I saw some article about that a few weeks ago. Must have some real good communication between the two of you to make both that and all your superheroing work."

She sounds almost impressed, but Sam doesn't really have the mental capacity to acknowledge that right now, not when his brain got stuck on the word "relationships" applied to Bucky and himself.

He looks around the rest of the group to see if any of them are gonna correct her while he's still stuck in his state of shock, but finds all of them just looking vaguely amused.

He shakes his head minutely. "Ms. Josephine, Bucky and I aren't dating."

Her eyes go more than a little wide. "Wait, so you did call it off?"

Sam shakes his head again, a little more vigorously. "No, ma'am. We weren't ever dating in the first place. Did Bucky tell you we were?"

Ms. Josephine shakes her head right back. "Never explicitly, Sam, but it ain't exactly hard to tell when somebody's head over heels. He talks about you like you went and hung the moon for him. Just yesterday he came by and asked if I'd seen one of the recent news segments about you, gushing about how amazin' you look flyin' up there. 'He's so fast, and nimble, Ms. Josephine,' he said to me, all moony eyed. 'It's like nothing you've ever seen before. Sometimes I swear he looks like an angel when he's got his wings spread out.'

"And that's not even countin' the things he says about you when you've been home for a bit. He's always talkin' about whatever fishin' you've done recently, or charity work you've been doin' around here or in NOLA, or how excited you were to buy new cat toys the week before. Every time I ask him if he's got any special requests for thank you meals, he always asks for something with a spice level I'm still not sure he can handle, tellin' me all about how it's been one of your favorites since you were a kid. Bucky's spent at least four days a week at my house pretty much since I've moved in, Sam, and I'm pretty sure I know more about you than I do about him, given how much he talks about you."

Sam's world is starting to tilt on an axis, but he's saved from having to speak up by Ms. Jackie throwing in her two cents. "You know he hates the smell of the flowers he buys from me for y'all's table every week," she says, tone full of faux nonchalance. "Says they're a little too fragrant for his nose because of the serum, but he buys 'em anyway because you always smile when you see he's brought home fresh ones."

Ms. Sheryl's lips quirk up. "You know he replaced damn near every faucet in my house as payment for me helping him with some of the most complicated bits of that sweater he knit you for Christmas. Said it had to be perfect because he knew how cold you always get any time you have to go north of here."

Ms. Maybelle comes in with the final blow, and it hits Sam like the steel chair in all the WWE shows AJ insists on watching every week. "And it ain't like you don't do the same things neither, Sam. Every time I see you it's, 'Hey, Ms. Maybelle, how you been? You wanna see this cute picture I got of Bucky and the cats earlier? They fell asleep on the porch swing he built for us.' You spent the first five minutes of the book club session two months ago debating whether or not Bucky should grow his hair out because he wanted new opinions that weren't yours, and at least half of that was you trying to explain how nice he looked before with the long hair even though it was greasy, but how you like the way the short hair feels when he has his head in your lap on movie night."

Sam doesn't really know how he can defend himself here, but he's got some argument on the tip of his tongue about how their couch was just a little too small for the both of them and their cats, so the head in the lap was the obvious solution. He doesn't think it'll do much damage control, but he thinks he should at least make the attempt.

Instead, he turns back to Ms. Josephine kind of on autopilot. "He called me an angel?" he asks, his heart a little fluttery, and Ms. Josephine just smiles.

"I'll, uh, see you all here same time next month?" he asks as a kind of permission to leave. "I think I might need to go see what my roommate is up to."

"Bring your boy with you next time, Sam," Ms. Sheryl replies, nodding him towards the door. "It's much more fun to tease you both together."