mess of wires

Neighbor sued me after harassing my dog for months, lost horribly.

About 6 or 7 months ago, my neighbor got a drone. I don’t mind people having hobbies, but for some reason he insisted on flying like the biggest jerk possible. He would hover in front of other houses and windows, try to “race” cars going down the road, and worst of all he had a habit of flying his drone in my fenced back yard buzzing over my dog, diving low just over my dogs head before circling around to do it again. My dog isn’t small, he’s about 70lbs and a Malamute, but the drone terrified him, and I was worried what would happen if it hit him.

I asked my neighbor several times to please not fly in my yard and explained that it was scaring my dog, he basically told me to get lost and laughed in my face. When it still continued, I called the police. Unfortunately there wasn’t much they could do other than ask him to please not fly over my house/property.

Finally, in late December it happened - my dog got tired of his shit and managed to catch the drone right as it was diving towards him. He shredded the drone, the thing was just a jumbled mess of wires and plastic.

Neighbor was pissed. He stormed over to my house swearing and threatening me, which I ignored. A week later, I got a summons to small claims court - he wanted $900 for the cost of his drone and an additional $300 for supposedly denying him access to his property (the drone sat in my yard for a couple hours before it was retrieved). F*ck that. He could have killed my dog. I don’t have kids or a girlfriend, I just have my dog who is my best friend for the past 7 years. That dog has moved with me three times, was there when I graduated college, saw me buy my first house and my first new car. I love my dog.

Went to LegalAdvice, got some great help from them. Turns out, him suing me was the best thing to ever happen. When we got to small claims court, the judge basically laughed away his claims that I had intentionally trained my dog to attack his drone. But little did he know I was prepared. I had dozens of photos of my yard showing it was impossible for him to “accidentally” fly that low to my dog, videos of him harassing my dog in the past, and I had saved all my medical bills from taking my dog to the vet. $700 for an xray? Check. Another $250 to sedate him during? Why not, don’t want him being uncomfortable. Full dental exam with tooth cleaning/repair? $400. Then there was the cost of anti-anxiety meds and a secondary check up, wet food for a week in case his teeth were hurt, and extra just for good measure. In the end, the a-hole ended up owing me almost $2,000, and now is being investigated by the FAA for not having a registered drone and violating several FAA regulations concerning drone flight, too near an airport, too close to other people, out of sight of operator and waaay above the maximum altitude.

Enjoy never being allowed to fly drones again, d*ck.

Guns and Ships
hamilton ft. hamster voices
Guns and Ships

and so….after so long…… here is what you have all been waiting for

whoever can rap this without messing up gets $100 wired to their bank account immediately

bonus points if u take a vid and submit it

I’m shocked that no one has brought up the fact that Cress sliced open her own arm to throw the wolves off the scent. 1) OW! That would hurt and 2) it would take a lot of hard, cold, scary determination and nerve not only to dream up that solution, but to follow through with it.

It proves even more conclusively what we all (especially Thorne) know: Don’t mess with Cress.

|| needy ||

{summary: i’ve never been so needy before in my life.}

A lot of readers want more fuckboi!peter parker, so here’s || absolutely || written in his pov 👅👅👅

im also gonna put this out there but cartel’s [[the perfect mistake]] is fuckboi!peter parker’s theme song ♡

tags [permanent + peter parker]: @ghostedwolf , @fandom-flash , @babeychocolatemai , @animexchocolate, @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53 , @literatureandimmature, @daydr3ams-away, @wannabe-weasley , @mcusebstan , @tmrhollandkay , @pepcvina , @nekonerdxox , @lokigirl18 , @fangeekkk , @kylielo22 , @wavy-ley , @lghockey , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

**please don’t repost/plagiarize this story. Reblogs are fine**

warnings: mentions of sexual content, explicit language & attempts at an attack

——

Despite everything that’s being said about me (even if most of them are true), I genuinely did love Liz Allan, and she was honestly the first one I have ever been intimate with.

I met her on the academic decathlon team and recall joining it solely for the purpose of getting closer her, the team’s captain. I was in love with the waves of her dark hair and constantly imagined what her smooth, mocha skin would taste like against my lips.

When we started dating, it was like a dream come for me.

Keep reading

ishipallthings  asked:

stevetony + 28 and/or 29 please! :)

Why not both?

28. “Marry me?”
29. “I thought you were dead.”


Tony can handle being interrupted in the middle of an important project. He can handle realizing there’s no coffee left. He can handle ridiculous politicians. And the media. And crazy fans. All this on top of saving the world from vengeful demi-gods, killer robots, giant ants, and whatnot.

What he can’t handle is seeing someone he loves get hurt. He doesn’t want to think of all the times he failed his loved ones. Pepper. Rhodey. Happy. JARVIS. Too many.

And now here he is pressing shaky hands to Steve’s chest, mentally willingly the blood to stop seeping through his fingers, while the man is clenching his teeth in pain. They were fine five minutes ago. The mission was simple: Get in. Clear out the baddies. Get the stolen tech. Get out. 

It was supposed to be simple, but Tony’s beginning to think that maybe they’ll never catch a “simple” break in their lifetime, mission or not. 

And he had only turned away from a second. A second!

Next thing he knows, a bang sounds off and Steve is stumbling into him and then crumbling to the floor, blood racing from a small wound on his chest. Tony doesn’t think. He reacts. Arm up, a beam of pale-blue light later, and the shooter isn’t standing anymore. Tony doesn’t care if the guy lives or dies. Right now, all attention is on Steve.

He’s out of the suit and on the ground as quickly as FRIDAY can open it. He presses his hands to Steve’s chest, flinching at the gasp that escapes Steve’s lips, and demands FRIDAY call for a medic team and for one of the other Avengers to find them.

Tony tries to not freak out as Steve’s eyes flutter while the man fights to stay conscious. 

“At least it’s not you this time,” Steve manages to choke out, a thin line of blood escapes the corner of his mouth and runs down his jawline.

A bitter laugh falls from Tony’s lips. “God, Steve. Just shut up.”

Steve cracks a grin despite it appearing that he can barely breathe.

“ETA, FRIDAY?” Tony calls when Steve coughs and specks of blood fly.

“Three minutes,” FRIDAY replies.

“It’s y-your turn to pick a p-place to eat, you know?”

Tony’s eyes sting with tears threatening to fall. “Like that matters right now,” he whispers.

Steve doesn’t get the opportunity to reply because the area is immediately flooded with medical personnel and Avengers. Tony allows himself to be pushed away and turns down the offer for help. Bruce, wearing only a robe, kneels next to Tony and checks over himself despite Tony’s protests. 

“Steve would be upset if he found out you didn’t let someone check you out,” is the only thing Bruce says.

Tony doesn’t reply. Instead, he gazes at the large pool of blood left behind after Steve was taken away. There’s just too much. 

“He’ll be okay, Tony. He’ll come back from this.”

“He’s a supersoldier, but that doesn’t mean he’s invincible.” 

“Be careful,” Clint calls from a few feet away. “You’re starting to sound like Cap.”

It’s meant to lighten the mood, but Tony doesn’t react. Clint doesn’t push. And Tony doesn’t remember getting up. He doesn’t remember being led away from the scene or making it onto the Helicarrier. He doesn’t remember changing into his pajamas. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers Steve’s bloody lips.

When he wakes up, it’s too a voice speaking softly about art?

“ - and I couldn’t find the charcoal pencils you bought me so I improvised and used grease. I hope you don’t mind. DUM-E didn’t. He was rather enthusiastic about help.”

There’s a chuckle. 

A very familiar chuckle.

Tony’s eyes snap open and he shoots to a seating position. Sitting next to his bed, in a tank top with a sketch pad and tentative smile, is a living Steve Rogers. There’s some faded bruising around his temple and his skin hasn’t fully returned to its natural glow, but Steve looks much more alive than before.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tony asks quickly.

“Well,” Steve starts as he scratches at his cheek, sheepish smile in place, “I woke up and no one was around. I feel much better and I went looking for you and you weren’t in your workshop so FRIDAY told be where you were. I found one of my sketch pads and decided to draw until you woke up.”

“You should be resting, Steve! You lost a lot of blood!” You shouldn’t have come looking for me.

Steve shakes his head. “Supersoldier, remember?” 

“Uh, no. If I can’t use the excuse of ‘having the suit’ then you sure as hell can’t use ‘supersoldier’ to get out of this.”

He gets a head shake in return. “I’m okay, Tony. I mean, it was a close call. We’ve all had close calls.”

Tony just looks at him in disbelief. “I thought you were dead, Steve. Or going to be. There was,” Tony swallows, suddenly feeling anxious, “so much blood. Too much.”

Steve’s smile vanishes and he now looks distressed. He reaches forward and grabs Tony’s hand, eyes looking straight into Tony’s. 

“I’m okay, Tony. I really am.”

Tony looks down at his hand before his shoulders slump and he sags against his pillows. Steve, good ol’ Steve, is trying to reassure him. It’s not supposed to be like this. Instead of saying this, Tony turns his hands over and Steve immediately entwined their hands. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” Tony says finally.

“The feeling is mutual.” Steve strokes his thumb over the back of Tony’s hand in a soothing fashion. 

Tony’s eyes drop to their hands. He sees a faded scar on his ring finger from a time he was messing around his open wires without wearing safety gloves and got shocked. He was lucky to not lose the finger.

His gaze falls to Steve’s thumb and he turns his hand to look at the back of Steve’s hand, to look at the bare ring finger.

It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. Almost everyone has said they argue like an “old married couple,” that they’re too “domesticated” around each other. They had jokingly called each other “husband” before and used varying terms of endearment. 

“You know I love you, right?” Tony asks.

“Of course,” Steve replies with a bright grin, face lighting up in happiness. “I love you just as much.”

“Good because we’re getting married today. Or tomorrow. Gotta’ call Pepper and work some things out. And Rhodey since he’ll be best man and all.”

Steve’s happy expression turns to confusion, then shock, and then he’s laughing. “That’s the worse proposal ever, Tony.”

Tony finds himself grinning. “I don’t hear a ‘no’ from you.”

Steve shakes his head, smile turning almost shy. “Of course there won’t be a ‘no’ but you could ask properly.”

Tony squeezes his hand. “Marry me?”

“Yes.”

They lean towards each other at the same time and seal the proposal with a kiss. 

Hope you like it. ^_^

anonymous asked:

So Stiles is in college, and by the time finals are over, he's an absolute mess. He's tired, he's wired, he's sleep deprived, and even though he studied his poor little butt off, the last final still kicked his ass. So that same day day he comes back to Beacon Hills for the summer the first person he visits isn't his dad, it's his boyfriend. And he just buries his face in Derek's chest and he's so tired and frustrated he starts sniffling. And Derek (cont.)

holds him close and shushes him until he’s calmed down, and lays him down on the bed, and by this point Stiles is so completely and utterly exhausted all he can do is grab Derek’s hand and sleepily mumble ‘you’re not going anywhere, Sourwolf’ before falling asleep with Derek wrapped all around him. Yeah.

*dies*

I love this too much, you don’t understand. This is beautiful and perfect and everything I want for them and there is a chance I am going to start crying with happiness and this damn ache you have put in my chest. 

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I left my pillow in the jeep.”

“Oh. Um, do you want me to go and-”

“No. I mean…I’m…this is….I’m good. Your chest is…very good. Very apt for sleeping on.”

“Oh. That’s…I’m glad. I….work out.”

“Wait. You mean to tell me you weren’t born with abs? What kind of werewolf are you?”

“The kind that wants his boyfriend to go to sleep so he can read. In peace.”

“Ouch. That hurts, Derek.”

“Sleep.”

“We’re breaking up.”

“Sleep.”

“Utterly wound-”

“Sleep and I’ll make you pancakes when you wake up.”

“…like they do in the movies?”

“Yes, Stiles. Like they do in the movies.”

“You do know pancakes are sex food, right? I mean, technically I’ve gotta earn those pan-”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll demote you to a smoothie. With raisins. Is that what you want?”

“I’ll never understand your obsession with raisins but fine. Night. Afternoon. Whatever. Love you.”

“…”

“…”

“…love you too.” 

*sometime later*

“I can’t believe I said I love you for the first time after an argument about raisins. I’m not telling our kids that.”

“GO TO SLEEP, STILES!”

Glass cockpit - All instruments in a screen

Avionics- Glass cockpit

Glass cockpit avionics are a class of avionics, which uses light indications and/or screens to indicate all the parameters and indications needed for the operation of the aircraft. There are numerous aircraft types today flying with glass cockpit configurations, due to the simplicity and user friendlier interfaces.

In early days, glass cockpit use was limited to PFD (Primary Functions Displays), MFD (Multi Function Displays) or a PFD that incorporated MFD functionality. Those early glass cockpits paved the way for ever more complex and advanced avionics driving us now to an almost paperless cockpit. The main reason that such avionics were invented was that the limited space in the cockpit of an aircraft, could not fit all the needed avionics that the pilots needed to have direct access. The typical avionics of the pre-glass cockpit era were bulky heavy and made a total mess with their wires and tubes, practically making the back of the panel/firewall a total jungle of tangled wiry things and labels

Commercial aviation

In commercial aviation simple glass cockpits, were firstly introduced in medium Jets(B734,MD-80,A310,), then fund implications in heavier jets(A300,B744,B672) and business jets. These early glass cockpits were mostly limited in indicating the flight crew with all the vital indications that conventional instruments would do, but in a more suitable way. For example in the case of the air speed indicator in glass cockpits there were now automated needles that moves, let’s say when the pilot retracted the flaps or extended the landing gear to clearly indicate the new operation speed limits of the aircraft in that configuration. Also all autopilot indications and bags were incorporated in the glass cockpit for greater easiness. But the most crucial change was the HSI (The main navigation instrument up to that day), had a meeting with the garbage can. It was totally replaced with an all new design that gave the pilot all the indications that he wanted. Incorporated moving maps with live route-distance-time indications, weather radars, combined HIS and RMI functionality it was the Christmas present that any pilot of that era could have wished.

Hello EICAS, Goodbye flight engineer.

Later came the EICAS system(Engine Indicating and Crew Alerting System), which was very bad news for one particular airman in the cockpit. The flight engineer now could retire or get his hands dirty again in the hangar, since he had no job in the cockpit. EICAS is an integrated system used to provide aircraft crew with aircraft engines and other systems instrumentation and crew annunciations. This system incorporated also annunciator panel with prioritized colored indications and advised solutions, some came with even intergraded checklists. This system clearly offered the aircrew with a powerful toll to cope with any improper indications, simply scanning 1 or 2 screens instead of 1 great and complex flight engineer panel, which needed an independent controller to supervise. The difference can be clearly seen in the case of the Douglas DC10 and the Douglas MD11, which was the first jumbo jet to do without flight engineer.

Everyday pilot get a new file saving tool.

The next step was to find their way to a wider market, and in the crammed cockpits of GA(General Aviation) aircraft. These implications came with many challenges, first and foremost how to fit the computer banks needed in bigger commercial aircraft (We are talking for a whole room) in a very very small panel. Garmin took the challenge and came up with the striking G1000, which is an all round full panel substitute. If you want to retrofit your Cessna 172 to Garmin G1000 you will have to wave goodbye to all your existing instruments, radios, receivers, indicators and the stupid vacuum pump ware. The G1000 has almost no moving parts to have mechanical wear, so no more inop labels on the panelJ. After Garmin came many other companies like Dynon and MGL avionics that are mainly targeting experimental and ULM markets. These days you can buy and have a full glass cockpit panel for your ULM ultralight aircraft with full autopilot and altitude hold, moving maps and synthetic vision for as much as 6000$.

Oblivious to the Obvious [Poe Dameron x Reader]

Summary: Poe has had a crush on the reader for ages, and asks Finn for his advice, which leads him to make several very sudden decisions.

Word Count: 6000+

Warnings: Moderate to Severe Accidental Injury

It wasn’t like Poe was looking for excuses to get to maintenance. (Well, once, he had sped up the disrepair of his com link just a little bit.) Otherwise, all eight visits to the maintenance wing over the past month were for completely legitimate reasons. It was as if his X-wing somehow knew that there was a wonderful girl at the reception desk and kept falling apart just so he could see her. This time, it was the navigation system that had decided to give out. System in hand, he walked to the to the desk where Y/N spun around in her chair until she saw him.

“Oh! Hi, Poe!” she greeted with her bright, heart-stopping smile. She was looking awfully cute with safety goggles rested on the top of her head, pulling her hair back. She had a smudge of grease on her cheek that she probably didn’t even realize was there, and her eyes were lit up as they usually were with a playful spark.

Keep reading

Gladiolus

The hallways seemed to get narrower, but Gladio was sure it was because he was beginning to panic now. Too many times had he been tricked by some form of you showing up, always in pain, dying and Gladio was powerless to stop it. It was emotionally draining but somehow seemed to spur him on to want to find you.

As the four of them entered the small cell block, some of them were littered with dead daemons but Gladio took no care of them and suddenly saw you strapped to some odd contraption looking a little beat up. In a very unusual fashion Gladio bolted forward, almost ripping the door off its hinges and heading inside to help you down.

A small pained noise came from the back of your throat and before you could drop weakly to your knees Gladio caught you, holding you close to his masculine form and kissing the top of your head subtly before tilting your head up to look at him. “H-How do… do I know it’s you…?” A small voice came from you.

“It’s me.” His voice was sure and strong before bringing down his lips on your own in a passionate way that only Gladio could manage. “Do you believe me know.” Without another word, you clung to him and whimpered out small breaths. “We’re gonna get you outta here, okay? Just hold onto me.”

In those next moments, you rose to your feet like a newborn doe before holding your hand out. “No, you’re going to need all the help you can get. Pass me a weapon.” Gladio’s warm hand was pressed against your lower back as he chuckled. “I have never loved you more than I do right now.”

Ignis

It was hard to distinguish reality from fiction, especially with Ignis’ sight being hindered in such a drastic way. The sounds of your voice fluttered through the halls, tricking him cruelly, wanting to pull him away in different more dangerous directions. If it weren’t for Gladio steering him along then Ignis feared that he might end up lost in these maze-like hallways.

Ignis was informed they were entering some cells, most things described to him but the moment that a tiny voice came from the end of the hall he stepped forward, holding his cane out in front of him and making his way there. “Iggy, wait,” Gladio commanded but he didn’t listen, he didn’t want to.

The feeling of a cell in front of him made Ignis frustrated, pushing at the bars until they finally opened and a couple of muttering voices came from behind him. “Love?” His voice was tiny but as you responded. “Ignis.” He grew more frustrated in wanting to find you, a couple of bodies rushing by him. “What’s happening?”

“It’s alright, Iggy. Here.” Gladio’s large hand came out to grab Ignis’ and then lead him forward until finally, Ignis’ hand was touching something delicate and soft beneath his fingers, a small, breathy laugh slipped from your lips as you. “Everything’s okay. It’s her.” He promised and suddenly your body bolted forward and locked yourself around Ignis. “See, I told ya we’d find her.”

Ignis dropped his cane and held you close, rubbing your back and sighing contently. “You were right, my friend.” Holding you impossibly close, not wanting to let you go. Although he could see Ignis knew that this wasn’t a trick. This was you in his arms, not some game. “We should make haste to get out of here before we are tricked again.”

A couple of little nods came from you before you pulled away, still standing very close and then leaning down to pick up his cane, placing that firmly back in his hand and taking his other, linking your fingers. “Stay close.” You informed him, at the moment you weren’t feeling strong and you didn’t look strong, but deep down you knew you had to be for Ignis.

Noctis

There really wasn’t much else leading up to this moment that Noctis had been more determined and focused on, but it surprised all his friends how he pushed forward, took the lead and just continued even when they would have thought no less of him to fall back and take a break. No, he wasn’t about to do that.

The sound of a soft whimpering cry was what made Noctis finally realise he was no longer being tricked and played. Rushing into the cell block and dismissing warnings from his friends that followed before seeing that you were hooked up to some device, tortured and sobbing gently. “I’m here~” He quickly announced.

Noctis didn’t waste another moment, flying through the doors and untangling you from the mess of wires, catching you before you crashed into the ground, nursing you in his arms for a moment. “That bastard is going to pay for what he has done to you.” A growl form on his lips, holding you close to his body.

A couple of stiff pain filled noises slipped from your lips as you carefully took his hand, trembling in your own. “Not just to me. To everyone.” You hissed before allowing Noctis to help you to your feet and nodding, trying to find some strength through your King. “I know and I’m going to be right by your side when you make him pay.”

This made a proud smile form on Noctis’ features as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed into your eyes for a moment. “Together,” Noctis said like it was some kind of promise between the two of you.  “Together.” You promised right back and nodded your head.

Prompto

This entire place was like a damn maze and Prompto was just sick of being lead astray by visions and being played by this evil bastard. It had taken the work of his friends to drag him away from most traps, informing him that it wasn’t you standing there and for a while Prompto tried to fight them.

It took Gladio’s immense strength to make Prompto keep moving half of the time. Finally when they made their way to the cell block and immediately his fantastic blue eyes caught sight of you down the end of the wall, strapped to some strange looking device, head tucked down into your chest. “Oh no!” He whimpered and sprinted forward into the unknown.

His friends called out from behind him but Prompto didn’t stop. “Oh, no. Oh no.” He whimpered, struggling against the binds and finally they unlocked and you fell limping from the board and onto Prompto who struggled backwards for a moment before getting his footing and holding you in his arms. “Please. Please, wake up. Don’t be a trick. Wake up.” He begged before hearing a soft gasp.

You were awake. Prompto rejoiced inside, but held you firmly in his slender arms and turned you to be gazing at your face. “Oh…” The noise was tiny but it was something. “Don’t let… let this be a trick.” You whispered, both of you clearly had the same fear, but there was something about this that was so heartbreakingly real.

“It’s not a trick.” The blonde assured you and nuzzled you close for a moment. “It’s not a trick and it’s never gonna be a trick again. Alright? We’re gonna get you outta here and we’re gonna fix you up.” He assured you before giving you a tiny smile. “We just got to figure a way out first, but I’m not gonna leave your side, you understand?” You nodded tiredly. “Good.”

Want to Request Something?

You can't convince me that every one of Kaede's classmates didn't blush when giving her her gift.

(Except Ouma, he’s too much of a cocky dick and he just kinda drops her gift at her feet and runs off like the little gremlin he is, but on the inside he’s dYiNG.)

(Kiibo, bless his poor robo-soul, is stuttering so badly that Kaede asks if his software is malfunctioning, which just makes it worse.)

(And Maki and Saihara both look as if they’re going to spontaneously combust, with Maki trying to play it cool in her usual tsundere manner, but Saihara’s honestly just a mess.)

(Kaito tries to act like the cool guy™ but slips while leaning against the counter.)

(And then Amami comes in and HE DOESN’T EVEN TRY AND MOMOTA WHY ARE YOU CRYING???)

(Hoshi’s up next and he’s pulled his hat down over nearly his entire face and his voice isn’t as deep as usual and it actually sounds kinda normal and then Kaede’s crouching down so that their eye-level and he’s just like oh-god-it-shouldn’t-be-humanly-possible-for-someone-to-be-this-beautiful.)

(The most normal had been Kirumi who just passes her her gift with a small smile and a slight blush dusting her cheeks.)

(No one can see if Shinguuji is blushing or not underneath his mask, but boi you ain’t foolin anyone. He gives Kaede some box with weird ass markings carved into it and she’s honestly mildly creeped out.)

(Then there’s a blur of yellow and Angie’s leeched onto Kaede.)

(Once they finally manage to pry Angie off Kaede, it’s Tenko’s turn. She’s so nervous that she nearly flips Kaede when she tries to hug her.)

(Himiko’s even worse than Hoshi and you can’t even see her face at all beneath her hat whilst she presents Kaede with her gift with some lame magic trick, then she scurries off and hides behind Tenko.)

(Gonta ends up bowing so low that Kaede’s arms ache the next day from trying to pull him up to prevent him from losing his balance and getting a concussion.)

(Shirogane is cleary nervous bc she’s spewing out so many anime references that no one can keep up. Plus her face’s bright red.)

(Last but definitely not least, it’s Iruma’s turn and the box she drops into Kaede’s hands starts to vibrate and everyone’s just like oh god, not again. Then Iruma just tells Kaede to open it and the mess of wires inside surprisingly doesn’t look like a sex toy, then she goes on to explain that it’s actually a machine that’ll massage her stiff fingers after hours of playing piano (and bc she’s Iruma she tacks on a “and other activities” with a wink). At this stage Kaede’s already tearing up, because who would’ve thought that Miu Walking-Innuendo Iruma would’ve been so thoughtful and pulls her into a tight hug and, well, RIP Iruma.)

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.