#sing caspar

[ash-the-porcupine]

An art request of one of Rosita's piglets giving Buster Moon a Valentine's gift.

[hoperays-song]

Sing Characters as Humans: Rosita and Family

Rosita Pèrez- Harrison

Norman Harrison

Gail Pèrez- Harrison

Tess Pèrez- Harrison

Nelson Pèrez- Harrison

Hannah Pèrez- Harrison

Caspar Pèrez- Harrison

Rory Pèrez- Harrison

And Uncle Gunter Järvinen!

[kingsbride-moved]

learning that Andreas Does end up with burns in the ending where his apprentice lives </3

[salemoleander]

Brainfog // A webweave based on waiting for the fog to lift by Odaigahara

MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 // sources under readmore

What is a webweave?

Previous art: Third Life | Void Falling | Attempt 33 | Martyn | Limited Life | Nightingale Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | singing songs to the secrets behind my eye | A Hundred Things We Had Not Dreamed Of | Solving Counting Sheep

Setpiece Clouds / @snailspng ◆ You're Home Free... Plaque / Jenny Holzer via @killyridols ◆ The Invader / Eva Funderburgh ◆ i walk in long loping circles poem / @erstwhilesparrow ◆ Connubial / Stephen Dunn ◆ Eight of Swords / Sarah Kipin via @thecollectibles ◆ Cat Island / Matt Schu via @nevver ◆ Detail from The Annunciation / Fra Angelico via @santoschristos ◆ I don't know why I'm wearing this button / Busy Beaver Button Museum via @skunkstripe ◆ Compass Ring / @snailspng ◆ Never Found Sign / @albatross-the-pen-chewer ◆ Occupation Helper Murderer / @screenshotsofdespair ◆ "Like it's my fault..." textpost / @mumblesplash ◆ Ethereal / Whitney Barkman ◆ Mountain Landscape / Caspar David Friedrich via @artschoolglasses

[heycerulean]

hey caspar. why did you start singing a song from the 1920s. have you been here since the 1920s. why did you start signing the prisoners song in the space prison. that song is from the 1920s. CASPAR. CASPAR ANSWER ME

[cynical-gamer-media]

Black Eagles Found Family Stuff During Time-Skip Headcanons

Edelgard is referred to affectionately as the 'Mother Eagle' by the Black Eagles with how doting she can be.

Everyone knows that Hubert's awkward cases of showing affection come from his upbringing of needing to be a cold.

Dorothea comes up with lyrics about the Black Eagles and teaches them all.

---Whenever the BEs are down or worried they hum or sing the tune Dorothea taught them.

Linhardt may hate the sight of blood but he never complains about taking care of the BEs, unless they did something stupid.

Caspar and Ferdinand always knows when to check up on someone and cheer them up.

---And if they need cheering up they can rely on the BEs, even if some may be awkward with assistance (Edelgard & Hubert)

Petra loves to lead hunting expeditions, and encourages a Black Eagle or two to join her.

Ferdinand finds tending to horses relaxing, so he encourages any stressed BEs to join him in distressing through horse maintenance.

Bernadetta is now confident speaking around the BEs.

---She sews them matching embroidery eagles to pin to themselves.

Whenever Edelgard feels nauseous due to her Twin Crests she knows she needn't hide it with the BEs.

---All of them would push her to rest. It's seven against one.

Hubert is designated chef of the BEs. Nobody complains.

Whenever she visits Brigid, Petra is thrilled to share her culture's clothes, trinkets, etc with the BEs.

---she also loves giving them meals that are too spicy for Fódlanders.

-----Caspar thought he could handle it. He downed so much milk.

They go on picnics whenever they can.

Upon learning of her Twin Crests and that her life is shortened Linhardt works tirelessly to find a cure with Hanneman's help.

Manuela is not afraid to call out if any BEs is being stupid or reckless.

Edelgard tells all the BEs to call her 'El' as they are her family.

Hubert keeps a watchful eye on any of Dorothea's suitors to ensure they don't even think about harming her.

Everyone agrees that Edelgard, Hubert, & Ferdinand are hopeless at naming anything (Black Eagles Strike Force, Twin Jewels, etc).

All of them know secret dialogue and hand signs to ensure each know whether the other is the original or a Slitherer posing as them.

When the war is over every year they celebrate the anniversary of its end with a picnic.

[nerdanel01]

Tipsy

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook (*Emmrich POV) 2k+ wc | SFW Emmrich and Agnes share a night at the opera. EXCEPRT: In the fifteen years that they had worked together, Emmrich had not once heard Agnes sing, nor hum, nor even tap her feet in time with a tune. Oh, she loved music—she subscribed to several periodicals that reviewed the latest compositions being performed across the continent, and was happy to debate the merits of various composers with anyone who would listen. But what enjoyment she took in music had always seemed clipped, contained within the bounds of her characteristic restraint. Now, the grass was tickling her bare feet; her heeled shoes were swinging precariously, playfully, from two hooked fingers of her left hand. The dark, velvet purr of her humming, endearing her to him as deeply as ever.

What privilege, Emmrich thought! To see this hidden side of her.

9:45 Dragon

It was high summer, but the sun had long set, taking the worst heat of the day with it; a breeze blew in off the Minanter River, conspiring to keep that evening in Nevarra City refreshingly cool. Cricketsong fiddled sweetly in the night. Beneath the larger-than-life statue of Caspar Pentaghast, in the public garden in which they walked, nocturnal flowers were in bloom: jasmine and nightlily perfuming the air with their nectarous fragrance. 

To Emmrich’s mind, it was as beautiful an evening as one could hope for… made all the more beautiful by the grace and the sheer improbability of the sight before him: Agnes, barefoot on the grass him, humming to herself, her hips gently swaying in time with her song. 

In the fifteen years that they had worked together, Emmrich had not once heard Agnes sing, nor hum, nor even tap her feet in time with a tune. Oh, she loved music—she subscribed to several periodicals that reviewed the latest compositions being performed across the continent, and was happy to debate the merits of various composers with anyone who would listen. But what enjoyment she took in music had always seemed clipped, contained within the bounds of her characteristic restraint. Now, the grass was tickling her bare feet; her heeled shoes were swinging precariously, playfully, from two hooked fingers of her left hand. The dark, velvet purr of her humming, endearing her to him as deeply as ever.

What privilege, Emmrich thought! To see this hidden side of her. To bear witness to what he had privately come to think of as the real Agnes, unchained from the rules of decorum and the scars of her past. Though Agnes had never told him as much, he had come to think of her mother’s death as a terrible fault line running through her childhood, the essential moment that divided the rest of her life into a before and an after. Before, when she had been cherished and loved, free to run and play and be curious, as she always ought to have been—and after, as an unwanted bastard in the house of a nobleman, once the hideous truth of her conception had come to light. Emmrich could well imagine the impossible standards she had been held to: that she would have had to work twice as hard, be twice as clever, keep herself twice as neat and clean and courteous as her legitimately-born siblings in order to avoid her father’s reprimand. How that experience had choked her, changed her.

Which made this rare glimpse of pure, uninhibited joy in her so very, very precious. 

Though they had both drank copious amounts of fine champagne throughout the evening, that alone could not be the reason for this change in her demeanor. From the handful of occasions on which they had drank together before, Emmrich knew that Agnes was not susceptible to the wild swings in personality that could be observed in some drunks; if anything, she only became tired and more withdrawn than usual. It was the music itself, Emmrich suspected, that had worked this change in her: the two hours they had spent at the opera, the score of which Agnes was even now humming under her breath. 

It was hard not to feel too pleased and too proud with himself for having the idea to begin with; Emmrich knew he had no right to be. After all, it had taken him nearly five years to give her a gift half as worthy as the one she had given him—the scarab ring was so elegant, full of such detail and history and light that he wore it always. But Agnes was unlike him in that respect. She did not take great pleasure in things, the way he did—in fine jewelry or fabrics, or elegantly crafted tea sets—which had made the act of finding her a reciprocal gift uniquely challenging. Emmrich wanted it to be thoughtful. He wanted it to be something she would truly love.

And so, at last—when he had seen the poster outside the theatre promoting their summer programming, seen the Antivan Opera listed as one of the companies that would be performing, recognized the name of one of the very composers Agnes had been praising for as long as he could remember—it was like the clouds had parted, like a single beam of epiphanal light had descended just for him.

Better to succeed late, Emmrich thought, than to never succeed at all. 

And it would have been worth it alone for the look of surprise and unbridled delight on her face when she had opened the envelope and recognized the tickets for what they were, but that had been just the beginning of all the tiny pleasures: the way she adorned herself for the occasion (unexpected mother-of-pearl ornament in her hair, the tint of color she had applied to her lips); the tension of anticipation her near-giddy excitement throughout the pre-performance dinner they had shared; the rapt, open-mouthed expression that had been fixed on her face throughout the opera, as she leaned over the edge of their box and peered through her opera glasses to get the best view of the stage. So alive! So focused, so present, all her stoicism and reserve fallen away. 

Too proud of himself. Too pleased with himself. Emmrich had found it his eyes wandering away from the performance on the stage to watch her, instead; to bask a little in her joy, knowing it was his own doing.

How good it felt, to care for someone else, to make them happy! To make Agnes, specifically, happier than he had ever seen her.  

And then, the shock of the opera itself! Knowing Agnes as he did—knowing her seriousness, her scholarly inclinations—he had expected it to be dark and tragic; to feature a plot that would, more likely than not, end in death. But in defiance of all of his expectations, the piece had been confection-sweet: a comedy, a romance full of bouncing, catchy tunes, everyone alive and in love at the conclusion of it. 

And now Agnes was humming the duet from the first act:

Though now the proud and cruel one Exults in the chains that bind me, Tomorrow over her heart I will reign, Tomorrow she is mine!

The grass tickling her bare, white feet; the grass on which she walked, in blatant defiance of the “KEEP OFF THE LAWN” signs peppered across the garden. Her hips swaying in what was, almost, a dance.

But the three-quarter time of the duet she was humming along to was nearly a waltz—so that ‘almost’ was remarkably easy to fix.

Taking care to quiet his footfalls, to surprise her, Emmrich stepped onto the lawn behind her, closing the distance between them when at last he grasped her hand. Before she had time to react he lifted their joined hands above their heads, guiding Agnes’ wrist until—with a delighted laugh—she gave a graceful little spin and turned to face him. Her dark eyes shining brighter than the stars above, for all the merriment within them.

Still holding his hand, grinning playfully, she bent her knees and bowed her head in mannered, practiced curtsy. Emmrich matched her smile and bowed his head in kind, before wrapping his free arm around her waist—and then, they were off, Agnes keeping time with her humming, Emmrich wheeling them around in the grass to match the pace she set: one, two, three; one, two, three; taking extra precautions to make sure he did not trample her bare toes beneath his dress shoes. 

…Strange, wasn’t it? He had done all of this for her, for Agnes. And yet somehow through his vicarious experience of her joy, through the dizzy, fizzy freedom of the champagne swimming in his blood, he found himself feeling so present, so whole, so much fuller than he had in a very long time.

The melody of the song shifted—driving, mounting, a crescendo towards its conclusion. Emmrich lifted their hands once more, spun Agnes once, twice, three times in a row, her skirt rising with her momentum to twirl like a black wave around her knees as she laughed again in delight. Then Emmrich drew her back to him, and—hands tight about her waist to secure her (they were both, after all, a little tipsy)—dipped her body low over his bent knee.

Cricketsong and river-breeze. Time had not stopped, but it felt like it had: like Emmrich’s heart had stopped beating, like he could not draw a breath. In a flash their dance had transformed from a fancy into… he did not know what. All he knew was that he could not pull his eyes away from the silver moonlight caught in her hair, the nervous smile on her face… the cold, then warm, then cold again shock of the world-tilting look of breathless anticipation, of hope in her eyes.

The intrusive, wholly inappropriate urge to draw her warm, slender body against his and kiss her deeply.

The thought was like burning a hand on a scalding kettle; all he could do was flinch from it. In the next moment he had set Agnes back on her feet and released her waist, restoring an arm’s length of distance between them, clearing his throat loudly as he did so.

Cricketsong, and awkward silence. 

Agnes broke it first. “I’d like to…” she gestured vaguely with the shoes in her left hand. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Emmrich answered, nearly tripping over himself to offer her his forearm. She grasped it with her free hand to steady herself then bent, balancing on one foot as she slipped her feet into one heeled shoe, then the other. For the life of him, Emmrich could not understand why it felt like something was shattering within him at the sight of it. 

Agnes straightened with a sigh, a perfunctory smile on her face. “That’s better. Shall we?” she continued, gesturing in the direction of the Necropolis. “It is getting rather late.”

“Of course,” Emmrich said, still too stunned and dumbstruck to do anything other than acquiesce. 

But whatever the moment was, whatever it might have been, it had clearly passed. Agnes’ shoes clacked on the paved walkway beside him, her humming silenced. All that joy, all that uninhibited delight had been packed away again behind her walls, restrained. Emmrich already missed it.

“There was another poster, in the theatre,” he said, to fill the silence as much as anything. “The Orlesian Opera will be touring here in the fall. Perhaps, if they are performing a piece that you would like to see, we could go again.”

Agnes flashed a brief look at him, smiled and nodded. “I’d like that,” she said, smoothing her hands through her hair, straightening the mother-of-pearl brooch back into place. “Though next time I really need to drink less. I’m afraid the champagne has made me a bit silly.”

There was a terrible note of embarrassment in her voice. Emmrich could not fight around the storm of emotions rolling through him to reassure her, ‘I like you very much when you are silly.’

They made small talk the rest of the way back to the Necropolis, but Emmrich barely heard a word Agnes said, so utterly possessed he was by that brief moment that had passed between them. It had taken all of two seconds to transform all the pride and cleverness he had felt for arranging the evening into the most abject shame. Had he really come that close to kissing her?

It was normal, Emmrich reassured himself, to have urges. Intrusive thoughts, even, were nothing to be ashamed of. That wasn’t him: he was defined not by his impulses but by his actions. He told himself: he was dignified, respectable, kind. Not nearly stupid enough to make that kind of mistake—and it would, unquestionably, be a mistake. 

‘I have no family,’ she had told him, when she had gifted him the ring which now wore daily. ‘Who else in my life would I give such a gift to, if not you?’ What a hideous betrayal of that sentiment it would have been, to start lusting after her now like some lecherous old man. Agnes was his valued partner, his dearest friend, and at least a decade his junior. It shook him to his very core to realize how close he had come to putting that cherished partnership at risk with unwelcome advances. 

After all, Emmrich already knew what it would be like to lose her; he had lived it. Sometimes he still dreamt of it: the unsteady weakness, the shaking in his legs as he had run, then tripped and fell, then crawled to her side after finally destroying the pride demon; the cold panic that had come over him when he realized she was not breathing. Shouting her name loud enough to make him hoarse as his magic clawed viciously at the Veil, drawing on the very force of his life to fuel his necromancy, reaching seeking questing for her soul, begging her to come back to him. 

He was resolved never to experience anything of the kind ever again—no matter what other sacrifices he must make to ensure it was so.

[dpsisquared]

I LOVE ready quotes. I feel like they are one of the biggest ways you interact with the characters, so they really influence how I feel about them. Here are some of my favorites, in completely random order. (Would love to know other people's favorites, too!)

Ignatz- "Ready, anytime!"

Seteth- "Guide me well."

Constance (dark)- "Sally forth!" (Unrelated, this quote is why Constance is my husband's favorite character.)

Ashe- "I'll give it my all!", "I'd be honored."

Sylvain- "I'm on it.", "What's the plan?"

Felix: "I'll go."

Dimitri- "I'll cut through!", "I'll comply."

Claude (injured)- "I'm hurt, but I'm with you."

Marianne (post ts, injured)- "I won't run!"

Byleth: "Stay focused." (I have written this line into a ridiculous number of fics.), (injured) "I may not survive..."

Caspar- "Put me in there!" (which always makes me want to sing "put me in, coach".)

Lindhardt- "I'm awake..."

Bernie (injured)- "I'm gonna haunt you if I die."

Hubert- "I'll cut a bloody path."

Edelgard- "I WILL prevail."

Jeritza- "Under-stood." (It's the delivery with this one.)

Manuela- "There's no stopping me!"

Yuri (injured)- "All in."

Balthus (injured): "Still the king!"

Bonus ones I really like from other games:

Kagetsu: "Come and face me!" (I think this was a solid 75% of why I S supported him. The delivery is amazing.)

Mae (injured): "Sure, I'm still hyper. Let's GO!"

Gray: "COME AT ME, FOOLS!"

Kamui: "Feelin' good."

Pandreo: *howls*

Panette: "Verily."

Alfred: "For you, anything."

[imunonimus]

/SPOILERS FOR MIDNIGHT BURGER! CHAPTER 34 (a few thoughts)

Thinking about Caspar's heartbreaking "You hear it too?" line in the latest episode. Other than believing he'd gone insane, he could've also thought he was stuck in some kind of purgatory, doomed to an eternal food service. And he just kind of. accepted that.

No wonder he really fucking panicked when he started hearing numbers in his head

This also coincides with what Teta implied, that it seems like Caspar is living in a prison. Now, connect that with the song Libuza sings (the song he sang for his son) whose title is Someone To Love Me (The Prisoner Song) It appears there is somewhat a reoccurring theme around him of seeing the diner as a prison. It might be setting up something in the future.

Also, I wonder why Caspar forgot about the three sisters. They made it seem like he was destined to forget them. Zeb and Effie said too that they wouldn't let him forget the three sisters either. I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't follow through with it or at least reminisce about them every five or two years or so—

so why and how did Caspar forget? What about Zeb and Effie? Did they forget too? I assume it must be because it's been soooo long? But I can't help but think that there might be more to it? Idk?

Desperately wishing for some smart people out there to make an estimated timeline (haha) with an approximation of everyone's age or the year they hopped in the diner. Like we know Caspar is probably two or three years older than Ava I think? And Leif is supposedly forty? Yes.

[malsfefanfics]

OC Profile: Rosamund

art by @/nessiemccormick, edited down to icon size by me

"You wish to know more about Rosamund? She's rather easy to talk to, once you get past that Vestra pride. Though I honestly don't know her that well, given how Hubert didn't even tell me of her existance until recently. She also tends to keep people at dog's length from her at all times. Yes, I mean 'dog'." -- Edelgard, about Rosamund.

Full name: Rosamund von Vestra Nicknames: Rosa (Raphael, Mercedes, Caspar, Constance, Claude), Rosebud (Hapi), Rosie (by Dorothea), Petal (For Hubert Use Only), Little Rose Wolf (Yuri) Birthday: Day 6 of the Harpstring Moon, 1165 Age: 15-16 (Pre-TS), 20+ (Post-TS) Crest: None Family: Marquis Iason von Vestra (Father, Deceased), Medee (Mother), Hubert (Older Brother), Tancred (Younger Brother), Rigel (Best Hound) Nationality: Adrestia Titles: Master of the Hounds, The Thorn Huntress, Devoted Bloom Voice Claim: Jeannie Tirado (leaning more towards Rose from Resident Evil Village in tone)

Interests: Hunting, History of Fódlan and surrounding nations, Weapons and training, Singing Likes: Sweets, Dogs, Her brothers, Fish, Healthy Competition, Saint Cichol Dislikes: Her father, The Church, Saint Seiros, Noble Society, Liars, Formal Dresses, Herself

Favorite Meals: Super Spicy Fish Dango, Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce, Pickled Rabbit Skewers Liked Meals: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Trio Bun, Grilled Herring, Sautéed Jerky, Small Fish Skewers, Fried Crayfish Disliked Meals: Daphnel Stew, Bourgeois Pike, Cheesy Verona Stew, Gautier Cheese Gratin

Tea Preferences: Lavender Blend, Almyran Pine Needles, Mint Tea, Rose Petal Blend

Liked Gifts: Hunting Dagger, The History of Fódlan, Fishing Float, Smoked Meat, any flower, Stylish Hair Clip Disliked Gifts: Gemstone Beads, Goddess Statuette, Blue Cheese, Book of Crest Designs

Lost Items:

Book of Hunters' Fables: A hand written book of fables and folk songs shared by hunters from across the continent. Looks well read.

Family Dagger: A dagger with a pink blade and a green handle. Reminds you of primroses.

Children's Music Box: A silver music box that plays an unfamiliar lullaby. There's the coat of arms of an Adrestian Family on the lid.

Starting Class: Noble Preferred Class Path: Noble --> Fighter/Myrmidon --> Archer/Thief --> Sniper/Assassin Strength: Bow, Sword Weakness: White Magic, Black Magic, Dark Magic Budding Talent: Authority Personal Skill: 'Howling Shot', increases power against Demonic Beasts by +5.

Weapons Starting Levels:

Sword: D Lance: E+ Axe: E Bow: B Brawling: E Reason: E Faith: E Authority: C Heavy Armor: E Riding: E+ Flying: E

Base Stats:

HP: 25 Str: 7 Mag: 1 Dex: 8 Spd: 6 Lck: 7 Def: 6 Res: 7 Cha: 9

Learned Faith Spells: ??? Learned Reason Spells: ???

Recruit Requirements for Canon-Compliance AUs: Crimson Flower requires C-support with Hubert and Edelgard, and B-support with Petra or Bernadetta. Verdant Wind requires B+ Rank or Higher of Flying, Faith, and Reason, and must have majority of Black Eagles and Ashen Wolves recruited. Cannot be recruited on Blue Lions or Silver Snow.

Potential Supports:

Byleth

Hubert

Tancred

Medee

Edelgard

Petra

Linhardt

Caspar

Dorothea

Bernadetta

Ferdinand

Jeritza

Mercedes

Felix

Sylvain

Ashe

Annette

Claude

Leonie

Raphael

Lysithea

Yuri

Hapi

Constance

Seteth

Flayn

Shamir

Hanneman

Manuela

Crit Quotes:

You wish!

For my brothers!

How annoying.

I'll never lose!

You call that a shot?

I thought you'd be a challenge.

I'll cut you down!

Time for the hunt!

No goddess can save you.

Defeat Quotes:

I can't fall here. Best to pull back for now.

That...could have gone better.

I'm sorry, brother. I failed you.....

Your Majesty, please....look after my family.....

I guess I truly am....the weakest Vestra.....

Skill Level Increase Quotes:

I can use this on the hunt.

This is easy as pie.

Another day, another lesson.

I can do that? Explains a lot. (Budding Talent)

I....I actually do that? (Magic)

Level Up Quotes:

As to be expected of a Vestra.

Excellence comes with hard work.

Getting stronger and wiser.

Missed the mark, it seems.

I can hear the old man scoffing from the grave.

Not sure I have much left to learn.

Gift Quotes:

Liked Gifts: Oh, I love this! How did you know?

Neutral Gifts: Thanks. This will be useful for later.

Disliked Gifts: You might have better luck elsewhere.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Caspar the type of guy to play General Genghis Khan Schmitz in a production of Seussical Junior and he's off key the entire time and goes too fast and he sings so loudly you can't hear the ensemble I think

.

[ash-the-porcupine]

Of all the Sing teens (this includes Porsha and Nooshy) Which 2 (AND PLEASE ONLY 2) of them would be the best at babysitting Rositas piglets?

Porsha and Ash. These two are the BEST babysitters. Not only but because the piglets love them, but because they have the perfect methods.

Ash is more serious, but she will always good off and reward the piglets for good behavior. The piglets all find her entertaining.

Porsha is the babysitters that spoils their little pink heads off, making her not only a favorite, but extremely good at her job.

(sorry for the original mistakes. Using a ten year old iphone is murder for this.)

[itneedsmoregays]

So we know Rosita and Norman's kids are officially called Iggy, Perry, Carla, Gail, Rory, Micky, Moe, Nelson, Hannah, Tess, George, Andy, Freddy, Caspar, Zoey and Leo.

But given how the other eight remain unnamed, I decided to come up with my own names for them:

Oscar

Asa (both after Garth Jennings' other two kids who voice them)

Vida (after Matthew McConaughey's daughter who voiced the chocolate fondue-diving piglet in Sing 2)

Adeline (after Adeline Krupinski Polidoro who also voices a piglet in Sing 2)

Neil (after Neil DeGrasse Tyson, A.K.A. Waddles the Pig)

Peter (after Peter Porker, better known as Spider-Ham)

Bonnie (after Bonnie Erickson, the puppet designer for Miss Piggy)

And Katy (after Katy Mixon, who voiced Petunia Pig in The Looney Tunes Show)

[chaggieschild]

PaRappa NPTs !

Names ☆

Carmen , Ace , Coco , Caspar , Dusty , Harper , Max , Karma , Percy , Mercy , Ziggy , Dizzy , Demi , Piper , Viola , Julie

Pronouns ☆

h*/h*m , fae/faer , rap/rapper , paw/paws , si/sing , so/song , claw/claws

Titles ☆

[prn] who likes to rap , the best rapper , [prn] who sings

[no-see-um-incorrect]

Concept  #1 kitchen kisses (some Domestic Charlie/Casper shit that I don’t want to write into a full fic But isn’t small enough for a incorrect quote)

Charlie’s parents are out of town so Charlie has the house to himself and he invited Casper over (Obviously)

Casper was finishing up their shower when they heard music coming from the kitchen as well as a very familiar voice singing along

“You don’t have to be rich to be my girl you don’t have to be cooOoL to rule My world Da da dA da da”

Casper slowly made their way to the kitchen

And what do they see but they’re Boyfriend in redcheck sweatpants and shirtless while cooking listening to his dads old Ass radio

“I just want your extra time and your——-Kis-MUAH*Chuckles* hey cas I didn’t know you were out of the shower yet ”

(sneak attack kiss an excellent move)

“yeah I just got done*Sniffs air* watcha cooking? Smells good”

“yeah, my mom left us our favorite pizza casserole recipe from  when we were kids so….I decided I try my hand at cooking….it’s a good thing My mom knows how much of a dumbass her son is because she left a very detailed list instructions”  

“now that I think about it…..I don’t think I’ve ever tasted your cooking”

“well, it’s nothing like you’ve made But I’m not terrible”

(Hozier sappy=background music)

Charlie terns around to do some dishes and Casper wraps their arms around his waist and kisses his shoulder 

“This is nice”

“what. doing dishes?”

“*Chuckles*No. this you me here”

“what. like domestic shit?”

“yeah I guess….. minus all of the things we do…. this is kind of how I pictured it”

Charlie dries his hands quickly and turns around to face Casper 

“I won’t lie it does feel pretty nice”

“food in the oven~….my arms wrapped around my perfect Boyfriend~”

*Chuckles*- Casper puts their finger to Charlie’s lips. They start slowly, softly, rocking back-and-forth 

“slow dancing in the kitchen, as music plays in the background…and most importantly. Kitchen kisses *muah*”

“I never pegged you for a poet Cas”

“yeah well that’s just something else you do to me”

I’m in a sappy gooey Charlie/Caspar mood. Who knows maybe I’ll do some domestic shit with Auron/rook next. 

[yellowocaballero]

I am politely begging you to recruit Bernadetta in Headstone.

I can’t handle my purple baby being deep fried in 2 different stories…

Headstone is going to be the right story for you :) ! It is a story about a Byleth who tries to save everybody. Bernie absolutely lives her best life in that fic, as does literally everybody. Except Claude, who is nonstop suffering.

Unfortunately, I did feel as if I had to kill off a significant amount of the Black Eagles in Weekenders (sorry, Caspar!) - I needed Byleth's decision to prioritize the BL's survival to have stakes. Byleth chose their safety over their sanity, and she chose their lives over the BE's. Weekenders isn't a story that saves everybody, sadly, but Byleth did do her best.

The surviving Weekenders Black Eagles are Ferdinand, who was badly wounded by Byleth; Linhardt, who surrendered and became a POW quickly; and Dorothea, who Petra spared. They go on to live long lives after the story. Dorothea becomes a travelling opera star and sings in a lot of low-key digs at Fargus lol, Linhardt gets operation paperclipped and mostly spends his life listening to Ferdinand brag about his son and doing his crest research, and Ferdinand becomes the Duke of the Adrestian Territory. He has a son who is a main character in a lot of the future fic. Derrick is constantly going through it, at all times, always.

I debated it, but I did eventually decide that all of the GD made it. Claude becomes King of Almyra and Petra marries one of his half-sisters, successfully besting him in their long battle of wills and ensnaring him legally into the cult. He never marries, but he does adopt a random street urchin and appoints her heir because he thinks it'll be funny. It's fucking hilarious.