#birthday ask

[startistdoodles]

pushing aside my shyness for today; happy late birthday!!!

i love your version of Dark Matter Swordsman so much aaaa

Thank you so much!! I appreciate you reaching out! 💜

Here is a swordsy for you :)

[ronearoundblindly]

Drabble Birthday Ask!

Reader finally 'catches' the thing Steve's been hiding... it's that he's tired. He's tired, and he thinks it's non-inspiring or embarrassing or a burden, and he has been acting weird to cover for that.

Steeeeeeb!!!! Yes of course some TLC for Stevie. Excellent. Would recommend. 11 out of 10. Always give him the peace and safety! (Don't hate me though; it's just a bit of established relationship fluff!)

I am uncharacteristically skipping the part where you confront Steve about this. Yes, that's right. Remain calm. Ro has passed up the opportunity to write an argument. Hold your applause. WC idk but probably 2k or less (bit of a surprise at the end, too 🤭)

It's so easy.

It's just so damn easy to lose track, to keep going, to repeat. One more conversation. One more chore. One more hour. One more day. One more.

More. Constantly more.

Steve is very good at giving more. He is consistent, constant, incessant, but you can see now that despite his unending strength, your husband can't hide that drawn, fragile look behind his eyes any longer.

Sometimes, that's life.

"Actually, scratch that shit," Tony says with a flagrant point to your face as you chat. "Life is always like that. I know what Big Guy needs, don't you worry. Consider it sorted."

This speed-date style convo tumbles through a ten-second-savoring of tea. You got one cryptic sentence about 'how you're doing' in before Tony perfectly translates your meaning.

For once, more is unnecessary. He knows.

Stark, however, doesn't even have a moment to finish the turn up of his lips in a smile before his watch is pinged.

His eyes focus to the inside of his glasses. "Go for the World's Most Fashionable Hero," he deadpans, wandering off with his mug clasped like a lifeline in his hands.

Yeah, you know that feeling. Wit's End must be as contagious as pinkeye 'round these parts.

Steve's been silent for the last hour of the car ride. He checks the address. He checks the map. He checks the road. That's it.

Music he usually hates has been playing for fifty-one minutes and counting. No reaction.

Clearly, you were right to ask Stark for help.

The gravel drive up to the cabin is bumpy, and Steve apologizes for having to go so slowly.

"Almost there. I think it's--yeah, there. Okay, we're here." Your husband flips the key back and out of the ignition, a stunted sigh forcing it's way past his tight shoulders, immediately opening the door and heading for the trunk. "I'll get the bags. You get the--"

"Steve? Will you come with me for a sec?"

He looks at you--really sets his eyes on you--for the first time since loading the car.

"What's wrong?"

You crunch up to the short staircase to the long porch. "Just come up here, please."

It takes another wave of your hand in encouragement before Steve abandons the small duffels and totes. He's not used to leaving a man behind. He's got a mission. He's supposed to finish the job. Always one more thing.

More. Constantly more. That's Steve's life, and he does it without complaint. Never, ever complaining, even when he should.

His heavy, tired feet fall hollowly on the wood.

"We're starting now," you chirp, excited to surprise him.

Steve tips his bodyweight to lean on the banister, crossing his ankles before crossing his arms, his head down while sneaking a squint-and-blink to try and bounce his energy back.

"Sure, what's first on the list?"

"Oh, no," you correct. "The list is mine. Those are my activities for the weekend. You are here."

His brow furrows. "What? You're gonna--"

"Steve." You gently hold onto his arms. "I mean, you have nothing to do. Not a single thing. And I don't care where you do it, but you will be doing nothing all weekend. Sleep in the bed, on the couch, on the dingy over there, hell, right here on the porch swing. It doesn't matter. It's your rest, but you must rest."

"What about--"

"Nope."

"Or if--"

"Uh-uh, definitely not."

Steve looks slightly panicked. "Dinner?" he tries in a last-ditch effort to be useful every minute of every day.

"There is a bag of stuff that I will be dumping into a crockpot and walking away from, so, no, you can't do that either."

He's still not sure, eyes glassy and flickering about.

"There's fruit for breakfast, veggies and dip for snacks, and we don't have to even turn on the stove unless we want to. Now--" you release him "--I'm putting stuff away and--"

Steve opens his mouth to argue.

"--and not one word out of you. Not one, sweets. Go. Be free. Sleep. Stare at the water, or a wall, or the ceiling for all I care, but you have nothing else to do today. Okay?"

His eye twitches, a half-hearted glare melting into a challenge in his tight jaw.

"Okay???" you prod.

His hands fling out in defeat. "You told me not to say a word," he whines, automatically making his way back down the stairs.

"No bags," you scold.

He whips around, almost muttering.

"No bags." You rush down and past him toward the car. "And I will bring you looser clothes to sleep in."

"You--"

"AH!"

"But--"

"What did I just say, Rogers?"

Now he just looks petulant, a familiar mood in your household.

You stubbornly point to the cabin. "Go on. Git!"

He watches you bring in the mindfully-light bags you packed up for the trip, pouting and scowling in equal measure.

Steve has to show off at least once by snatching up a bit of potato that rolled across the counter in the transfer of dinner.

Instead of thanking him, you shove a t-shirt and thin sweats at his chest.

He fakes an oof of surprise and traps you for a quick kiss before going to change. He does leave you alone for the rest of setting up.

Steve is dead asleep on the deep, two-seater porch swing when you head to the little work shed, his knees bent so he faces in, his forehead buried in cushion to block out daylight, already snoring softly.

You have to hold your hands to your chest so as not to touch him. Tears of joy prick your eyes seeing him relax so quickly.

Steve can follow orders when he wants to, you think with a smile.

In the garden shed, Pepper has all the cool crafting things, and you putz around with some wood pieces and paints for a couple of hours. You walk the perimeter of the cabin to find some nice wildflowers for a table centerpiece, mixing delicate stems of blue buds with expansive wisps of white and little pops of yellow. You attempt to figure out the dingy but decide against going on the water alone yet. Maybe tomorrow.

At no point does Steve move.

When you walk up to the house, fist full of flowers, he's out cold, softly swaying in the breeze as the gusts pick up in the afternoon.

You snack and listen to music in your headphones, doze in the bed after the sun warmed you a little too much, and then wake to the smell of stew.

The beep of the crockpot wakes him.

Bedhead and pillow mishmarks on his cheek look great on Steve Rogers.

Without argument, he washes his hands and sits at the reclaimed wood table.

Steve says only two things:

"Thank you" when you set a large bowl in front of him, and "can you pass the salt?" after he taste-tests the meal.

He reads a book until falling asleep for the night with you, curled with his knees bent again.

He does well.

He keeps resting, multiple times with his book open on his chest, barely to halfway after hours and hours of holding on to the browning paperback pages.

He rests in the bed. He rests on the couch. He rests (again) on the porch swing. Finally, he rests in your lap while you both float on the lake in the dingy.

He rests with you by his side. He rests with you in his arms. He rests even when you leave to do something else. It's exactly what you wanted, what he needed, and how it should be.

Steve mumbles a fair few things, but the most important thing is that none of it is important enough to articulate. He doesn't have to talk. He doesn't have to be heard. He doesn't have to be understood.

He only has to rest, and he's following orders well. He's completing his mission.

It is truly fascinating how close you can feel without words--okay, so you two aren't completely non-verbal for the weekend, but there are no long conversations. After being married for a while, those are not entirely necessary. You know each other too well for all that; Steve simply feels the stigma of being weak and tired from his youth.

He holds himself to a different, impossible standard. He thinks of it as pushing the limits of his serum, as offering everything he has to others, as respecting those he cares for by shouldering burdens. You think it's stupid.

It is the only stupid thing Steve Rogers does.

Now, after days of resting, you're pretty sure Steve knows he was being stupid.

You hope he knows he can ask for help or a break whenever he wants, before he needs it this badly.

To your great delight, Steve gathers up his things that were left around the house, but he leaves the actual packing to you. This is very helpful in keeping the final surprise.

He's watching the water, sitting up in the porch swing for once with an arm thrown over the back, an easy, calm smile stretched across his face, the first you've seen in months if you're being honest.

Steve gestures for you to join him, but you bite your lip and check the gravel drive.

Exactly on schedule, an engine revs and wheels crackle over the gravel.

You wink at your husband just as excited shouts ring out from Tony's fancy car.

"Papa! Papa! Look what Morgan and I found at the beach!"

"I made you a seashell necklace, Momma. You, too, Pops."

Your children race up the porch steps and jump into the space below Steve's arm.

His smile is still easy, but perhaps a little more excited than calm.

More. Constantly more.

But it's not all tiring...

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[zemonkeartistog]

Heeey ZEEEEE!!

HAPPY EARLY BUT ACTUALLY CELEBRATED BIRTHDAAY!!!

Hopeing that all the characters and people you love give you a tight full of loved Hug!! And that you eat a nice desert for your day!!

Oh mi gah, fireworks!! >:D

And thank you for the birthday wishessss X3

I intend to eat the most chocolatey dessert today, do not test me LMAO

[lyra-prag]

Heyy!

I just noticed it was Anyas birthday yesterday! 🥺 I don’t know her that well yet, but I think it is so so so cute how you connect her with the Anastasia musical. I loved that story when I was a child, and watching your edit made me a bit emotional…

Since I don’t know her very well yet, I have a little weird question to change that, hehe:

If Anya packed her bag in a rush, then went through a stressful day. And ended up losing her bag by the end of the day, and a stranger opened it to figure out whose bag it was…what would they find inside?

I hope they find birthday cake

Happy belated birthday to Anya ✨🌼

Hey 🤗

This is so sweet of you 🥰 Fun fact: Anya was originally build with Princess Anastasia from the (movie) musical in mind, because it was my sister's current hyperfixation when she created a Hufflepuff for her to play. When I adopted the character, I decided to stay true to that origin. I love the movie a lot and it still brings back childhood memories 💕

Anyway, on to your question 🤭

If a stranger found Anya's bag after she had packed it in a hurry, they'd find:

A well organized map containing all her school notes and other school supplies

A map with music sheets for the Frog Choir (and songs she likes)

Her diary, in which she not only writes notes about her day but also ideas for songs and quotes that she picks up somewhere and likes

A small origami bird for good luck

Camomile-Honey bonbons for her voice

Some snacks, usually either shortbread cookies or fudge flies

Thanks for the lovely ask and the birthday wishes. She sends you a hug 🫶🏼

[zahraloveseldorado]

Happy birthday, Zahra!!!!! I hope you had an amazing day so far!!!

The gays and Chel for youuu

I am so glad to have met you and to be your friend, you are a ray of sunshine and your heart is like a city of gold!!! Seeing you on my dash is always a pleasure!

I hope you have an absolutely wonderful year ahead of you! Happy birthday!!!

Awww my dear Smok!! 🥹🫶 Thank you so so much!! First of all I'm very sorry that I took so long to respond, but I'm afraid I really struggled to find the energy this week 😅 Which was incredibly awesome, don't get me wrong, as well as my birthday. I really had an amazing day and I feel sooo lucky and grateful 🥰

YAYYYYYYY IT'S MY FAVORITE GAYS AND THEIR BEAUTIFUL GIRL 😍😍😍 Oh my GAH they look so AMAZING and CUTE 😍🥹🫶✨ I love their pose and the colors and Chel's smile dearly (she's such a lucky gal hehe 🤭). I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. Thank you so so much for this wonderful birthday present, my dear friend 🥹🫂💖

Needless to say the feeling is 100% mutual, and awwww you're really gonna make me cry 🥹😭🫂 I really feel the same way about you as you really are a warm and bright ray of sunshine shining on a beautiful golden city ✨ I feel so happy and lucky that we're friends and it's always such a delight to see you around and hear from you 🥰💖

Thank you sooooooooo much!!! 🫂🫂🫂💖💖💖

[lanes-the-art-lover]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAAAANNNEEESSSS!!!!!

YOURE AS OLD AS ME NOW!!!:D

I HOPE THE LORD BLESSES YOU ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY!!!

Romans 11:33

✝️💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

AWWW! THANK YOU SO MUCH, ELLIE!!

May the Lord bless you too!! 💚💚💚

[rustingcat]

Birthday ask time:

Which (nerdy) thing are you going to have/own in the future?

I did buy myself a pokemon card as a birthday gift for myself from ebay, so probably that😅

But look at her! She is such a gay icon! I couldn't help myself but get it! (Its a Chinese exclusive so slightly harder to find hence ebay)

[aroaceweirdos101]

Explodes confetti on you!!

🎉🎉🎉

Haha—wait...SILLY STRING!?!?