close enough to wednesday

Drunk/Bar Hamilton Headcanons!

A/N: more headcanons!! Hope you enjoy! Send me request for headcanons!

Request: literally no one asked for this

Masterlist | Request!

Let’s start with Peggy!

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The Sculpted. That’s the preferred term, last I heard. Y’know– for Skews. Or Chimmers. Or Geneblurs. Or Hybos or whatever else the progressive and cohesive community comes up with next.

The Spire #1 (of 8)

  • Writer: Simon Spurrier
  • Artist: Jeff Stokley
  • Colorist: Andre´ May
Show Off - Steve Rogers x Reader

Originally posted by james-nat

Words: 986
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings: idk fluff? (Maybe a bit of swearing but wow a surprise there?)
Requested by @arsenalpluswil
I was wondering if you would do a male reader x Steve? Anything not platonic would be cool!
A/n: This turned out much more fluffy than i thought, but hey, fluff is fun.  Also, I made the fic gender neutral, (instead of just male reader x steve) like i try to do with most of them.

You were oblivious to what was going on around you, and maybe that was a good thing. As you were just sitting on the couch, reading your favorite book, you didn’t realize your boyfriend, Steve, walk up to you holding a camera.

“What are you doing?” You laughed, and shut your book, making sure to save the spot.

“I have finally mastered the using a digital camera quality.” Steve smiled. “So I’m testing it out by looking at my amazing (Y/N).” Steve, his cheesy self, smiled.

You giggled again. “And what are you going to do with this recording?”

Steve shrugged. “I have an idea, but shush, it’s a secret!” He said, turned off the camera, and ran away.

This went on for weeks. He would sneak up on you at the most random times and just record you. You’d be making breakfast, record, talking to Sam, record, working in general, record, even training, he would be recording you.

At first, you were fine with it. Then, you were confused as all hell why this is still going on.  Then, you learned to ignore it.

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white noise in my mind, won’t calm down (you’re all i think about)

Summary: In which Will is the son of a piano teacher, Nico is a prodigy, and there is a special sort of music in falling in love.

For a very kind anon - this might not be quite what you were looking for, but I hope you enjoy. 

Will sometimes felt as though music was the thread that held the universe together.

He grew up surrounded by music, the son of the town’s best (and only) piano teacher. Apollo had taught him, a long time ago, that every person gave something of themselves to each piece of music they played. The soul could be found in the notes of a melody, the body and mind in the tempo.

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anonymous asked:

Aone, Kuroo, and Mad Dog receiving chocolates on Valentine's Day from someone who has a crush on them (and the boys never really noticed them before until now?)

Aone would be surprised that he hadn’t taken notice of someone who liked him, then embarrassed. He hadn’t even known you’d liked him, in fact he’d hardly known you at all! He would return the chocolates on white day and ask to eat lunch with you, to get to know you better.

Kuroo would be shocked, reading the name over and over trying to remember who it belonged to. When he did remember, the following Wednesday he gave you chocolate of his own with a grin and said “white day, Wednesday, close enough right?”

Kyoutani would more notice the food than the name, though he did remember it. And when your name was called during roll and he finally took notice of you, he walked to your desk and sat down on top of it with his hands in his pockets. “So do you wanna go to an arcade or something after school?”

How to Act Like You’re About to Graduate with a Creative Writing Major:

Wonder if you look as good with a forlorn expression as you think. Grow your hair out. Erect a rack in your room solely for sweaters and scarves. Pretend like you understand the poetry of Bob Hicok. Naps. Think about sandwiches when you should be thinking about writing. Pretentious sentence structures in your blog posts: have them. Realize that asking to be in someone’s writing group is ten times more terrifying than asking someone to prom. Don’t move that much. Look forward to train rides because of the reading you’ll get to do. Worry about the lighting in the room where you have your nighttime workshop. Fret about prepositions. Wonder what the hell Chemistry majors study. At 2 AM, while writing an annotated bibliography of every text that’s ever influenced you, your life, and your writing, briefly consider becoming a plumbing apprentice like your cousin. Photobooth pictures. Scarves.