jazzy tune

Hamilton Things

- Historically and in the play, Philip died at the age of 19. He lived through 19 songs in the play (Dear Theodosia through Stay Alive [Reprise])

- In his duel with George Eacker, Philip is shot on the count of seven, which is coincidentally the number he changed the melody on during his piano lessons

- “Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me” - perhaps this is a reference to his piano lessons when he was younger. Eliza taught him to count. Philip believes he miscounted, he believes that it was his fault he was shot on what he thought was the count of seven.

- Hamilton died at the age of 47. Including the Laurens Interlude, there are 47 songs in the musical.

- The ensemble member who plays Philip Schuyler, who gives Hamilton his blessing to marry Eliza, also plays James Reynolds, who blackmails Hamilton for sleeping with his wife, Maria.

- The “I know my sister like I know my own mind” line is sung twice by Angelica, once in Satisfied and once in The Reynolds Pamphlet, both with very seperate connotations.

- Hamilton is the first to introduce more intricate, polysyllabic raps (My Shot) as opposed to the simple beats used by Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette, showing his intellectual ability and innovation.

- “Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead” is directly followed by Laurens introducing himself.

- Jefferson sings in a jazzy tune because he is quite literally a generation older, in both his ideals and age.

- Lafayette’s increasing grasp on the English language is shown when comparing his verses in Aaron Burr, Sir and Guns and Ships.

- Angelica is the first to sing “look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now”, which Eliza continues to use throughout her life.

- Angelica raps at Hamilton’s speed because she is his intellectual equal. Eliza beatboxes because she supports him.

- “When my prayers to God were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverence”/ “I take the children to church on Sunday, I sign of the cross at the door, and I pray. That never used to happen before”. Philip’s death drove Hamilton to religion, giving him something to rely on other than his words for the first time.

- Eliza doesn’t rap because she is quite literally given the most time, she lives to be 97.

- Not only did Eliza establish the orphanage, she also helped to establish the first school in Washington Heights. Lin could have included the words “in Washington Heights” as a reference to his other musical, but decided against it.

Frosting and Crushes

Summary: Newt has been distant the past week, focusing only on Tina and their work. You try to strike up conversation with him at dinner, but, after many failed attempts, grow irritated and leave early. Queenie decides to take matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 2,224

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in


You sit at the dinner table with no goal but to enjoy the meal as Queenie flutters around, stirring pots with both her hands and magic. She already denied your offer to help, so you decided to pass the time talking with her. Newt had disappeared somewhere, probably inside the case, and you had immediately decided against a walk when you glanced at the growing grey clouds outside.

Inside is warm and cozy. You’re wearing your favorite gold sweater. The heat from the cooking keeps out the bite of chilly air rattling the windows. Queenie is humming a jazzy tune you’ve never heard before, only stopping to giggle at Jacob’s red face when he bumps into her.

“I’m sorry.” He says as his face turns a shade of tomato red.

“It ain’t a problem, honey.” Queenie doesn’t break a stride. “What is it you’re making?”

You’re pretty sure she asks it for your sake, given the sounds your stomach has been making since he stuck the pastries he’d spent all afternoon making into the oven, and the smell had spread throughout the small room.

“Special strawberry turnovers.”

“What makes them so special?” You ask, raising your voice over the bubbling, clanking, and simmering sounds filling the area.

“They’re my momma’s recipe. Filled with love and one other special ingredient.”

Queenie swings by Jacob with the pot of stew in hand. “I don’t think nutmeg is very secret, honey.” Five bowls float down into their places around the table as Queenie sets the stew in the center.

“I never said –“

“You don’t have to.” She smiles at him and lifts the pot’s lid.

The rich smell wafts over the table to you. You breathe it in, closing your eyes to revel in the memories it brings back. Your mother always made beef stew with potatoes and chopped carrots for special occasions. Mentally thanking Queenie, you slide your chair back and step toward the pot, scooping the stew in until it nearly sloshes out the side. Queenie merely smiles at you and twirls around Jacob.

She resumes her humming. The turnovers mix with the scent of the stew and your mouth waters. The windows shake, generating a beat that Queenie forms her music around. Jacob’s laugh fills the warm room, and your entire world, for once, is at peace.

Your content joy only expands when Newt walks in, messy auburn hair plastered against his forehead from the rain sprinkling outside, giant, beautiful smile stretched across his face. You glance at your stew, fighting the huge smile trying to break upon your face. Queenie kicks you under the table and, when you meet her gaze, lifts an eyebrow. You give a quick nod before staring back down at your food, trying to resist beaming.

The fight becomes much easier when Tina walks in behind Newt, also covered in water, smile upon her face.

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Bendy in Toon Terror: Part 3

“The massive ink monster was also still; there were no more smaller ones to smash. The Thing turned it’s crooked horns and huge grin around slowly; from behind echoed a jazzy tune that bounced uncannily off the walls.”

An AU inspired by @shinyzango Written and Illustrated by myself. Now we’re getting somewhere!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO: Part 1 | CHAPTER TWO: Part 2

CHAPTER TWO: Part 3

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Jazzy tune from Community

Michael Haggins- Daybreak

Blind Side - Chapter 3

Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

You stood alone in your closet, wearing nothing but a silk dressing robe, surrounded by outfits and accessories for every occasion. Flowing gowns, skin-tight workout gear, mix-and-match business attire, and a ski suit you wore for all of five minutes – you’d honestly rather freeze than look like a walking marshmallow. You never thought this day would come, but here you are. Hundreds of options, and nothing to wear.

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Out Dancing

Requests: “Hey! I was listening to the song When A Man Loves A Woman by Percy Sledge and thought it would give a great story of Newt X Reader. As I love your writing, I thought you could write, but if you can not I’ll understand.❤” AND “Hi, M! I have a request, if its not too much trouble, i was wondering if i could get a newt x reader where newt’s jealous? The story could be anything you want, i just want me some jealous newt, he’d be so adorable! Slight angst and lots of fluff? Hope you have a wonderful day♥️”

Word Count: 3,399

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous and @dont-give-a-bother also tagging @caseoffics

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in


Newt’s eyes nearly fall out of his head when you walk out of the bedroom with Queenie. You don’t notice the red blush winding up his cheeks and filling his entire face, and he’s grateful for Queenie’s conversation with you. He can barely tear his eyes from the crimson number you slipped into, from the way the intricate beading wraps around you to the frills that swish with every swaying step you take. Crimson gloves run from your hands to your elbows, hiding more skin than that dress does. He gulps when he looks at the hem drifting only to the middle of your thighs.

Blinking, he pinches his arm. Queenie giggles at his face when he feels her root around his mind. Forcing his gaze from you, he looks at her, more subtle in her flowing olive dress. It hangs off her shoulders with thin straps, dipping in the most perfect places, gems shining on the left side of the chest and cascading down to her hip bone.

She cocks an eyebrow. “Like what you see, honey?”

It takes Newt a moment to form a sentence when you turn your beautiful eyes on him. “You’re radiant.”

“Just me?” Queenie purses her lips to hide her mischievous smile.

Newt’s heart hammers when he looks at you. Not only does the dress expose your collarbones, but it shows off your shoulders, too, letting the heavy crimson earrings Queenie lent you graze the skin usually hidden by your normal outfits. His eyes drift from there to your lips, plump, turned a vivid red by Queenie’s makeup, completely kissable.

“You are breathtaking, as always.” Newt says, swallowing and forcing as natural a smile he can create to his face.

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L’Appel Du Vide (M)

Author’s Note: This request for serial killer Taehyung was from quite a while ago (I’m talking months) from @unpretty-writer, and it’s been brewing in my mind ever since she suggested it. I was constantly jotting down ideas any time they came to mind, and about a week ago I finally had enough inspiration to sit down and write it. I’m still not fully satisfied with it, but I do have moments I’m quite proud of. I want to thank a multitude of people for helping me finish this; you know who you are. I hope you enjoy it, loves. 

I will say do pay attention to the timeline. There’s a reason for everything.

Word Count: 9,408 this is the longest piece I’ve ever written.

Warning: This contains mentions of blood and a bit of torture, amongst other elements associated with this genre. 

→ Sequel

Friday, 24:45pm, Present Time

Penthouse Suite, Top Floor

“Please,” barely a whisper, the word that left your lips cracked in your dry throat, difficult to get out. His fingertips slithered their way up your bare arm, small bumps forming at his delicate touch. He kissed your exposed shoulder, the heat sinking into your skin and making your heart pound against your ribcage. He nuzzled his nose up your neck, breathing you in, reveling in the scent of nothing but pure, unadulterated fear; this is what he lived for, these prolonged moments consumed by your anticipation of his next move.

Your breath hitched the moment the sharp tip of the knife danced across your skin, sliding against the back of your shoulders, Taehyung using it to push your hair to the side. His free hand which had skimmed the surface of your arm now took hold of your strands and tugged hard, exposing the nape of your neck to the now frigid air of the lavish hotel room. His mouth descended upon you, licking a sliver upwards upon your flesh, your pulse pumping beneath the tip of his tongue. Heart rate rising and breaths quickening, your eyes shut tight; the rapid rise and fall of your chest was beautiful to him, and he cherished the sight. He could feel you tremble beneath him, and when his teeth nibbled at your earlobe, he captured the shaky sigh that fell from your exquisite red-stained lips by placing his mouth upon your own in a heated kiss.

This was it. You were going to die. And you were absolutely terrified.

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anonymous asked:

okay! so i know your a total nerd and i love love LOVE that little "Jokes" fic you've got goin on AO3, but I was wondering if you could do an ironlord/starquill fic??? I dunno if you could fit it into that one, but i'd love something with them-- comic or mcu universe or some combination??? pretty please?

Tony is eight years old when he hears it the first time, sitting on the floor of his mom’s closet, beaming up at her as she sways around and sings along– holding up dresses for his approval.  It’s funny because it’s the middle of July, but his mom looks too happy, her hair a mess of dark curls as she sways along with the jazzy upbeat R&B tune.  

They’re interrupted when Jarvis steps in, mouth quirked in amusement, a tray of water and glasses in hand.  “Forgive the interruption, ma’am.”

“Nonsense, J!” Maria smiles and holds out a hand to him.

He scrambles to set the tray aside on one of the small, fringe ottomans in the vast closet as she pulls him in between the racks, swaying with him, head falling back as he pushes her into an awkward twirl.  Jarvis laughs despite himself, eyes bright and graying at the temples.  Tony laughs too.

“What would my wife say, Mrs. Stark?” Jarvis smiles.

“That I need to keep my whiley hands to myself, Jarvis.” Maria smacks a kiss to Jarvis’ cheek and twirls away, still bouncing on the toes of her feet as she makes her way over to where Tony is clutching a pair of her shoes in his lap.  “Come here, mijo.”

Tony pushes to his feet; he barely reaches her hip, but she takes his hand and starts spinning him around in time with the song.  He ends up standing on the tops of her feet, her hands in his, as she rocks him back and forth, mouthing the words down at him.

“As we danced in the night,” she smiles, all delight and bright eyes.  “Remember how the stars stole the night away.”

*

When his parents die in a car crash, Tony gets blind drunk and hacks into one of the SI satellites he knows is orbiting somewhere out of atmo and wires an old boombox of Rhodey’s to it and streams out an endless loop of classics and not-so-classic classics as he clutches to Dum-E’s extended strut.  When the first beats of Earth, Wind & Fire start playing, he closes his eyes and smiles.

He shut it down the next day.

*

The thing about Tony’s taste in music is that it has always had a wide range.  He grew up with a mother who loved classical pieces as much as she loved the blues and jazz.  His father had a more limited musical palate, when he wasn’t working in complete silence, and it tended to stick to more big band sounds that reminded him of older times.  He’d always been very loud, and very disparaging of Tony’s decision to blast rock’n roll in his room as loud as he could, though Tony remembers some very rare, very fond moments when Howard would smile and roll his eyes whenever he spotted whatever new vinyl Tony had brought home with him after the long months away at prep school.

By the time Tony got to MIT, he already had amassed an incredibly stupid collection– the worn Bing Crosby records lining up right next to Led Zeppelin– and it only grew from there.

Tony has mood music.  Certain things he listens to when he needs to get other things done.  AC/DC and Black Sabbath and Aerosmith when he’s sciencing the shit out of something.  Dulcet croons of Freddie and Louis when he’s drowning in paperwork.  Pop when the mood– or the liquor– strikes him hard enough.  

Africa by Toto and Hot Blooded by Foreigner are his go-to shitfaced jams.  

He’s gotten high on more things than he cares to think about in his life– what can he say? He was a product of the 80s.  But these days he restricts it to an occasional hit on a blunt, and Marvin Gaye is always what he grooves to.

But R&B– the Commodores, George Benson, the Temptations– are the artists he’s mourned to since 1991.

*

It is days after Steve sent him a letter and a flip phone.  He’s sitting with Rhodey and Vision, staring up at the endless sea of stars above the Compound, a bottle passed between him and Rhodes but not Vision, when he remembers that stupid little satellite player and wonders what songs is playing in between the vast spaces of black right now while FRIDAY pipes some indie rock bullshit overhead that Vision likes.

He laughs at the thought and Rhodey lifts a brow.  “Just thinking.  About space.  You think aliens have a favorite Spice Girl?”

Rhodey groans.

*

In the aftermath of Civil War, Tony throws himself at other projects when he isn’t busy with UN delegations and touring the world, the shiny star of the Accords.  Pepper is shockingly pleased– and probably a bit worried– with the amount of tech R&D start pushing out.  They’ll be set for the next three years and then some, at the rate he’s going, so she gently chides him away from it.

So Tony works on more overarching projects.  Works with the UN on globalizing green energy.  Contacts Gates about cheaper way to make vaccines.  Then, when Rhodey puts him in contact with a woman at NASA named Carol, he starts pushing funding toward some of their space expeditions.

“What about a communicator?” Tony asks her one day, spinning in his chair, the unamused purse of her lips belied only by the bright look of her eyes as she watches him over the video projection.  “Like, we sent out a floaty time capsule and we’ve got some long distance boomers up there, but what about something better?  Bigger?  To catch someone’s attention?”

He’s gotta fill his time somehow.  

Carol tilts her head, considering what it is that he’s offering, and smiles.  “What did you have in mind?”

Overhead, the faint strum of guitar makes a wickedly delighted grin spread over his face.  

*

Tony doesn’t expect a lot of things these days.  

Or, rather, Tony tries not to expect a lot of things these days.  He’s positive that it’s just sheer dumb luck that things have been working so well since Siberia, that his small team of three has grown marginally bigger over the last six months, Peter and Bruce and Thor and Stephen joining in with the merry band of miserable fuckers that come and go at the Compound like it’s a damn motel. 

Though, admittedly, they all make the place considerably less miserable.  And Tony doesn’t miss the way Rhodey keeps hinting that Carol might be making a “transfer” soon, nor does he miss the way Peter keeps hinting about some heroes he may or may not have encountered in the underbelly of New York on some of his vigilante webbing sprees.  

He just doesn’t expect anything to come of it.  Of much of anything he’s been putting effort into.  Refuses to.  He doesn’t need to get results to know that things are, surprisingly, working out well.

So when he’s working on Peter’s goggles late one night, the faint alert that pops up in front of his face is a minor shock, as is FRIDAY’s soft: “It appears you’ve an update on the SSIMS, boss.”

“Oh.”

The Soul Sounds Intergalactic Music System had started transmitting at multiple frequencies two months previous, piggybacking off of one of SI’s most powerful satellites with full approval for maintenance and upgrades– as needed– from NASA’s astronauts up at the space station.  Since then, it has not only been keeping the space stationed entertained, but it’s been shelling out music to the farthest reaches of the galaxy and beyond.  

Tony really hadn’t expected anything to come of it.  Like, really hadn’t.

“Pull it up, sweetheart.”

She does.

“Oh,” Tony blinks.  “Oh.”

“Yes, I believe you’ve said that twice already, sir.”

“We–” Tony frowns down at the sight of a soundwave that had not be transmitted by his own device, but something that had bounced back from somewhere out in the deep.  “We got a reply?”

“As it turns out, boss, music might just be a universal language.  Would you like me to play it?”

“Where’s it originate from?”

FRIDAY goes quiet for a moment, then returns with an estimate, and Tony nearly chokes on his own tongue.  

“That’s– FRI, that’s really not–”

“Would you like me to play it, sir?”

“Please.”

The first notes are garbled, static and messy, not even really sound at all.  Then, it pitches so high that Tony has to cover his ears for a moment.

It’s only when it settles, the first lyrics belt out of Tony’s speakers, and Tony falls out of his chair laughing as Hooked on a Feeling starts playing through his lab.

*

He’s down in Florida by the next day, a pair of purple sunglasses in place as he breezes through, heading straight for Carol’s office.  She greets him with a surprised blink and a smile, before demanding to know what he’s there.

“I’ve got a phone call to make,” he points upwards with a finger.

She escorts him all the way down to the servers they set aside for Tony’s pet project, watching as he messes around with the wires and hooks his phone into the main system while the engineers fret off to the side.  Arms crossed, she frowns down at him and arches a brow when he starts scrolling through a playlist.

“What are you gonna play?”

Tony grins, all teeth, and selects something in the middle.  The first riff of guitar starts up and Carol blinks at him again before her chin falls to her chest, her laugh lost to the steady thrum of Space Cowboy.

*

It takes an entire week and a half for any kind of response, but Tony knows that light travels faster than sound, even in space, so he’s not all that surprised.  When it does come, he’s wondrously delighted by the harmony of The Mamas & The Papas.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, boss?”

“How about we dust off the new place in Malibu?  I think I might have some visitors heading my way.”

*

Rhodey does not think it’s a smart idea, but he doesn’t insist on going with him the way that Bruce does.  They leave the team in Rhodey’s very capable hands, taking the private jet and knowing that their just a sling ring away from being where they’re needed; if they’re needed.  

The new house on the coast of Malibu is just as ostentatious as the old one, but bigger and a bit more sturdy.  Tony tells Bruce that he turned the property into a safehouse, of sorts, in case he ever needed it.  In case they ever needed it.  

There’s a landing pad on the roof, that Tony sent the coordinates of with his last song about California Stars by some band that died in the 90s.  

They’re there for two weeks when Tony is woken from a dead sleep by blaring alerts and FRIDAY telling him that there is a legitimate unidentified flying object landing on his roof.  He throws his sheets aside and rubs the sleep from his eyes on the way up to the helipad, only to be blinded the second he steps out the door, air whipping around and tugging at his already mussed hair and clothes.  

He holds up a hand to block the glare, squinting between his fingers as he catches the sleek lines of orange and blue, fear present somewhere at the back of his head but mouth stretching into a wide smile.  The hiss of the hydraulics has him practically bouncing onto his toes, something giddy unfurling in his chest as a ramp lowers.  For a moment, he thinks he should’ve brought a boom box and held it over his head like Cusac.  

Maybe next time.

He isn’t sure what, exactly, he’s expecting– though, dimly, he realizes he is expecting something, hopeful of something, and isn’t that a kick in the gut– but when a very tall, very strawberry blonde man comes bounding down the ramp, he’s more than a little dumbstruck.  Though, considering Thor is technically an alien, he knows he shouldn’t be.  

But the music that pours out after the man snaps him back into focus, and Tony chokes on a laugh as he recognizes Take On Me by a-ha.  When the guy falters at the end of the ramp, eyes a little wide and smile a little wider, Tony takes it upon himself to make first introductions.  

“Hey, there, space geek.” Tony greets with a smile, stepping forward and offering out a hand.  “I can definitely say this is the best close encounter of the first kind that I’ve ever heard of.”

Any wariness vanishes, and the man offers his hand in return.  “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting from a musical penpal, but I figured you had good taste, so it would be worth the risk.”

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual.” Tony says.  

*

Peter Quill, or as he insists Star-Lord, is not alone upon arrival.  When he and Tony are done with their own introductions, a few quips passed between them, Peter insists that Tony meet the rest of his motley crew just as Tony insists they come inside and get themselves acquainted.  

It is refreshing to not be instantly recognized for who he is.  Instead, the crew of the blue and orange ship only know him as the guy that’s been broadcasting Terran jams all throughout the galaxy.  The rest of the crew is, naturally, a bit of a shock to Tony’s– and Bruce’s, when he joins them in the living room overlooking the Pacific– system.  It’s much more what he expected, though he’s still trying to wrap his brain around the talking tree.

And the talking raccoon.

And the very intimidating looking woman and man with skins the colors of jelly bellies.

When they all settle in, some of Quill’s group looking a little less wary by each passing second, Tony offers to order up some food for delivery and Peter jumps on the chance to have pizza.  It’s then that Tony realizes Peter isn’t necessarily an alien; just returning home after a very long trip.

They talk for a long time, the Guardians telling Bruce and Tony their story and how, exactly, they came to carry that name, as well as not-so-subtly letting them know that they have other crew members back up in the deep dark space above that would come looking if anything were to happen to them.  Tony just smiles and offers them their choice of the guest rooms.

*

He has Stephen bring Thor over the next day, to sit and talk with the Guardians about a few things that include the intergalactic immunity clauses of the Accords that he urges them to sign so that they might enjoy an extended stay on earth rather than a sadly brief one.  

When that’s said and done, it’s Peter that turns to Tony over a heaping pile of bacon, eyes bright.  “So, how long can we stay?”

“As long as you’d like,” Tony shrugs.  “This house is mostly empty most of the time, anyway.”

“What’s the catch?” Gamora asks shrewdly.

Tony grins.  “I’d like a chance to check out whatever tech you brought with you.”

Instantly, Rocket perks.  “I knew y’were a gear jockey the second Quill told us you’d sent a reply, didn’t I, Groot?”

“I am Groot.”

“Shuddap, I did.  After I said he was a loser.”

Tony laughs.

*

He isn’t exactly sure how he decides to stay with the Guardians at the mansion in Malibu when Bruce decides to return to the Compound, but he knows that he does.  Quill says he’s got some personal business somewhere in the mid-west, and Tony offers up his resources but figures Peter can figure his own way through his little coming-of-age adventure.  Figures he’d rather he and his friends would rather take it on their own.  

Rocket and Groot stay behind with Tony, tinkering around with him down in the basement until they return four days later.  Tony’s more than grateful that they’re back because trying to keep Rocket from taking apart everything that he owns has been bad on his already terrible heart.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Tony asks Peter.

Peter gives an aborted bob of his head, mouth twisted in a way that makes Tony ache somewhere in his chest, and he watches as Peter tries to keep his hands busy with some of the tools laid out over the work table.  The others have already retreated into their respective rooms, but Peter is lingering.  Restless.  

Tony knows that feeling well.

“Didn’t find anything good, did you?” Tony offers up a small smile that Peter doesn’t quite return.

He clears his throat, shakes his head, and Tony watches as his jaw works.  “Just, uh… Dunno why, but I kinda thought nothing would change.”

“Thirty years in space is a long time.”

“Yeah,” Peter croaks.

For a long second, Tony is at a loss as to what to do.  He’s never been great with emotions, his own, or anyone else’s.  But he doesn’t like the distance that grows in Peter’s usually bright, expressive eyes.  

Pushing to his feet, Tony pads over and places a tentative hand on his shoulder, smile tight but earnest.  Peter tries again, and fails again, to return it.

“You know what helps?” Tony asks, catching Peter’s wrist and pulling him away from the table.  

“What?”

“Well, first answer is always drinking.” Tony winks.  “But considering I have to start taking better care of my liver, the second answer is music.  FRIDAY?”

The music floats in, the jazzy upbeat tune already bringing a small smile to Peter’s mouth.  It takes only a second longer before Peter is laughing and swaying with the beat, right next to Tony, and guffawing out a loud sound when Tony uses his loose grip to push Peter into a lazy spin.  

Tony’s already singing along.  He knows it’s ridiculous.  It’s mid-July.

“Do you remember,” he tosses his head back laughing when Peter retaliates, taking both Tony’s hands in his and spinning him around and around and around.  “Dancing in September?  Golden dreams and shiny days.”

*

“You should come with us,” Peter says as they’re loading up into the Milano.  

It’s been a month and Tony is sad to see them go.  It’s been a long time since he felt so content, so guiltless, in people’s company.  They’re just like him, a bunch of fuck-ups, but together they’re something more.  Something better.

He almost wishes he could take them up on the offer.

“Can’t,” Tony shrugs.  “Got a world to keep safe.  And you’ve got a galaxy to look after.”

Okay, he definitely wishes he could take them up on the offer.  

“Maybe next time?” he asks.

Peter beams.  “Definitely next time.”

As he’s walking up the ramp, music comes streaming out of the Milano.  Tony snorts, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest as Peter thrusts a fist into the air, Simple Minds’ Don’t You Forget About Me pouring around him.  

*

It’s two weeks later, back at the Compound, that Tony gets the alert.  

He pulls it up, smiling at the sight of sound waves, and has FRIDAY start the track.  He leans back in his seat, head tipped back and eyes closed, and lets the dream of stars steal the night away.

Distress and Smiles

Credence Barebone X Reader

Request: Nope ;)

Warnings: Torture. Hints at Abuse. Sadness. It’s cute and sweet, don’t get me wrong, but

(AN: Okay. Wow Credence is harder to write then Graves. And I kinda wanted him to be happy after all that had happened so this takes place post the film: Hope you like it.)

Originally posted by stallingdemons

“Okay.” You sighed, “You ready?”

He nodded, grabbing you hand and taking a deep breath and looking at his straightened tie. “Okay.” You continued, a small smile creeping on your lips, “So you can’t stare at anyone and make sure not drink anything. Especially not anything too brightly colored. Oh and stay close! Oh and Credence?” You smiled, squeezing his hand, reviving a small hmm from him, “Thank you for coming with me.” You hugged him tightly. Causing a small smile to escape onto his lips as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and his nose into your hair. Letting go, you looked at him with twinkling eyes and a nod, turning swiftly to the door and doing the secret knock, grabbing Credence’s hand as the door swung open and walking inside the club.

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{ five's company // ch. 6 }

a/n: idk how long this story is gonna be now that i think abt it lol

i know i updated like 3x now. being sick means being in bed all day and i wrote a ton! this is one of the requests i have officially fulfilled. if you have any requests to see in this fic, my inbox is always open!

spanish used (whoa!!!)

¿qué tal? - what’s up?

- yes

princesa - princess 

six.

Lafayette left the hospital tired and shaken up. He said goodbye to everyone on his floor, and as soon as he reached the elevators, he sighed. Thankfully, he was alone in the elevator. No one would have to see him like this.

He headed to the parking lot with his messenger bag on his shoulder and searched for the car.

It took slightly longer than expected, only because Lafayette had totally blanked on where he had parked, but he hit the clicker a few times and followed the sound. This wasn’t like him.

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Ineffable

Originally posted by amsimaria


Pairing : Jimin x Reader
Genre : Fluff, slight angst, Coffee Shop AU
Word count :  1885 K

Summary : Jimin is that cute barista for who you have several stolen looks and desires when you go to your local coffee. Under the gentleness of his warm eyes, you want him to finally notice you and go beyond simple formalities. He also has that mysterious side of him that suits him much but that you absolutely want to discover.

PART TWO


The fresh air from the outside was soon replaced with the warm one of the place dimly lit by fawn tinted lights. The fabric of your jacket felt soft against the pad of your fingers as your eyes lazily took in the cozy atmosphere of the small coffee shop you just entered. Slowly, your hand slid down the fabric of your jacket as your eyes idly explored the area to notice the quiet and almost deserted place. 

The muffled voices of the few present customers grazed your ears, a small jazzy tune bathing the place adding in a soft and cozy ambiance. Your local coffee shop always felt warm and welcoming. It always had been that way. However, you could not ignore the apprehensive feeling ascending in your guts as you nervously rubbed the palm of your hands together, unconsciously trying to get them warmer.

Apprehension.

No matter how the drinks and the food were tasty in that coffee shop, they were not the reason for the unpleasant feeling slowly settling down your stomach. Actually, that barista was the exact reason why. You liked to go there for chatting with your friend around a beverage but the odds were you came alone that day. Words would not even describe how much that guy was making you swoon. Literally. You never had any other experience like that before nor any obsession over a guy. 

You deep down knew it was bad and you hoped things would get better. You hoped you would forget him in a way and that your mind would stop being obsessed over him. It was nice to hope something like that. But you knew better things did not use to work like that. You hated how your guts twisted upon seeing his candid well defined face around whenever you ordered beverages here and you hated how much your friend teased about him.

Your steps guided you to the counter where the man behind gave you his usual trademark charming smile that made you flinch. Blinking, you shot him a nervous smile nodding as to greet him. Your eyes roamed over the machines as to distract yourself from him which did not work at all. His soft voice pulled you out from your thoughts as you tried to collect yourself. He seemed calm as ever, content stretched on his plump lips, a flash of elation gleamed in his chestnut slanted eyes.

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awesomeundertalelover3  asked:

Grillby with a S/O who likes to sing but is afraid of singing alone in front of people, like they can sing in front of people with others but not alone.

There is always something happening at Grillbys. Most of the time its just the regular shenanigans you can see every day, the dogs trying to figure out how exactly to play poker, punk hamster trying his best to look as cool as possible and of course Sans pranking the customers.

But every few weeks there was another thing you could witness. Grillby liked to entertain hos customers from time to time, and what better way then to hold a karaoke night from time to time.

He just wished everybody would enjoy themself. He knew how much you loved to sing. But he also knew how scared you where to do it infront of an audience, all by yourself. But you were also very human, and so very determined and you wanted to sing.

The karaoke night was a fun evening like everytime. The dogs howled a beautifull cover of a song nobody knew, Sans hummed half of the text to some jazzy tune and Papyrus even joined everybody. For a few minuts to applaud his brother. The you stepped to the karaoke machine and..froze. The music started and you mumbled the text quietly into the microphone. Only to be suddenly joined by a deep, crackling, warm voice.

Grillby was next to you and suddenly you got your voice back, you two singing together like you have so often at home. The crowd cheered as Grillby put his arm around your shoulder, you two grinning like cheshire cats.

boyfriend!jin;

Originally posted by sotaehyung

  • part of me doesn’t even want to come up with a coherent background or plot for this like i really wanna just wild out and talk abt how cute a boyfriend he is but i gotta set a #mood
  • okay so this isn’t set in a universe where bts are famous, tho it is set in a universe where they’re all still inseparable friends bc,,, in what universe does that not exist
  • anyway
  • so in this universe i picture jin as a very dreamy type?? like he’s already dreamy in this one but i mean like he’s the kind of dreamy boyfriend you see in hallmark movies that the self-proclaimed inadequate female lead thinks she won’t end up with but ends up with anyway
  • like he’s so amazing he can sing (which he does for family and friends during the holidays like his voice is so pretty they almost asked him to sing his own damn birthday song), he’s a natural charmer, and he’s just naturally beautiful
  • but!!! seokjin’s pride and joy is and always will be cooking

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