punk is whatever we made it to be

The Valentine's Day Community Relationship and Bonding Soirée

Chapter 1:  The Set-Up

Fanfiction ~ Main Pairing: Jerza (but many others involved!)
RATING:  Chapter 1~Teen+  💕  Chapter 2 ~ Mature (verrrrry sexy!)  😉 💋

Words ~ 7600
Total Chapters: 2  Total Words ~ 15,000  COMPLETE


Read on FF.net HERE

Summary:   None of the Fairy Tail guild members would think of Valentine’s Day in the same way again… A night of frolic, dancing and minor (for Fairy Tail) explosions.  Also, canal boats.  Mirajane and Cana plot to ease Erza’s surly attitude, roping Gray and Wendy into the action as well as stirring their spoons in several other pots.  The older members of Crime Sorcière are only too happy to help out, as they’re tired of Jellal’s moping. 

A fabulous collaboration between @nalufever​ and @impracticaldemon​ – We hope you’ll enjoy this Valentine’s Day present to you! 💗💗💗  If we receive enough encouragement, we will definitely try this again, although we still haven’t quite recovered from our current state of giggles!  😂 😂 😂

Chapter 1:  Set-Up

[I] The Planning

Mira sat on top of the freshly polished bar and employed her brightest smile at Erza.  “The Master gave me the go-ahead for the Valentine’s Day Community Relationship and Bonding Soiree.”

“Valentine’s Day is an archaic idea.” The red haired swordswoman crossed her arms and frowned.  “The Master only wants to ogle more women.”

“Of course.”  Mira’s smile never lost any wattage.  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”  She cast her eyes over to a sullen Laxus and Freed dancing attendance.  “We could use some fresh meat here.  Don’t you get tired of the same guys?”  She giggled—Laxus could hear everything (dragon slayer senses doncha know) but she had a thick skin when it came to certain things; if he knew what was good for him and her and Freed—he’d ignore Mira’s small verbal faux pas.

“Ugh.”  Grimacing, Erza looked away and let her lips pinch together in a most unflattering expression.  “Not everyone is looking to sate their base desires at a moment’s notice.”

Cana took this opportunity to spin around on her bar stool.  “More’s the pity.”

“Yes, Cana knows what Valentine’s Day should be about,” agreed Mira.

It took all Erza had not to growl. Instead she grumbled:  “Why would any sane person take the advice of a demented match-maker or an inveterate lush?”

“Tch.”  Mira ignored the tone and content of Erza’s words.  “You really need something to take that wicked edge off.”

“I am fine.”

Cana drained her mug and shook her head; Mira looked at the red-head and giggled.  “The cards never lie, Erza.  You need some help.”

“I am fine.”  Repeating her words didn’t make her believe them any better either. The endless scuffling between Gray and Natsu, behind her, burned her last nerve.  Turning, Erza glared at the ice and fire mages.  “I will rip off your arms and beat you to death with them if you don’t stop right this instant!”

Natsu pulled his punch, turning his haymaker into a friendly arm around Gray’s neck.  For his part, Gray grimaced but allowed the contact.  

“We’re the best of pals over here!”

“The very best!”

Lucy sighed and joined Erza, Cana and Mira.  “Did I hear someone asking for help?”

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Can you be Punk and like mainstream music? A quick Essay.

Punk is a belief system, it’s a very complex set of values and aims and it incorporates politics and fashion and art and ideology and, of course, music. But contrary to popular belief it is not all about the music.

The Punk subculture spawned out of a nihilistic form of Anarchism, influenced by DaDaist imagery and Dickensian depictions of the lower classes alongside a strong influence from Beat literature and an aim to stop the world from mirroring something out of Orwell’s dystopian writings.

Punk was drawn from so many sub-cultures, Bikers, Rockers, Greasers, Beatniks, Teddy Boys, Mods, Skinheads and even Glam Rockers that it seems truly stupid to me that people try and claim that there is one true kind of Punk. Because there isn’t. There never has been. And anyway, it is not the job of a Punk to police who is and is not Punk, that goes against what Punk is. Punk is about freedom, and being happy, and ignoring the rules because they unfairly constrain you, Punk is about fairness and fighting against an unfair system.

And sure, a lot of Punk is about being subversive, counter-cultural, rebellious, and politically outspoken. Punk was, and hopefully still is, a message to society that we are not equal, and we are not living in a safe, fair world. But that does not mean that Punks cannot enjoy mainstream music, because music is only one element of what Punk is, and, at it’s core, punk is about ideology, not music, music is what spawned from the anger and ideology, not the other way around.

So, in my opinion, Punks can like whatever the hell they want, because that’s kind of the point of Punk in the first place. If it isn’t about freedom, then what is it about? If we get to the point where to be considered “Punk” you have to fill as many constraining check boxes as you do to be considered “Normal” then haven’t we lost what Punk was about in the first place?

  • person: so like maybe we shouldn't refer to people as pussies because it's misogynistic? and like shitty in general?
  • them: Don’t be a pussy comes from the word pusillanimous…. pusillanimous means coward.
  • person: ok thats probably not true and punk use to mean sex worker. what is your point. are you still using punk to mean sex worker? is anyone? no. they're not. because words are defined by the society of today, not of yesterday, or whatever made up time period you're referring to.

anonymous asked:

Nick finds out that Judy was a punk in high school

Hehehehe….me likey this idea!  Judy in leather, ripped cloths, and spike is a lovely idea.


“Hey Carrots, I can’t find you in this picture.”  Nick stated as he inspected a family photo hanging on the wall.

Judy sighed overdramaticly at the fox.  For some reason, Nick had decided to find her in every family photo her parents hung up, like some Where is Waldrus game.  Which was both kind of annoying and indearing at the same time.

She dropped the article about urban gardening in someone’s gardening magazine.  She hopped off the couch and walked over to her partner.

The fox was inspecting it closely, his nose almost brushing the glass as he carefully looked it over.  He tapped his claws against the side of his muzzle before he turned to her.  Stepping aside he let her take a moment to look.

Instantly she knew why the fox couldn’t find her, and surprised her parents every chose to hang that picture.

“I’m right there,”  She said.

She pointed to the left side of the photo near the end.  To a grey rabbit in leather jacket and lime green plaid pants, along with spiked bracelets.  Sunglasses were over their eyes, and small patch of fur was purple on their head.  They seemed completely disinterested in the whole thing, ruining the whole thing by sticking out their tongue.

“That is not you, Carrots.”  Nick huffed.

“It totally is, Slick.”  Judy rolled her eyes at him. “I was something of a punk rebel junior year of high school.”

“No way, I don’t believe you.”  Nick laughed.  “There is no way in the world you weren’t some prim, studious, little bunny who wore only pastels in high school, or at the very least an overly athletic one.”

“Fine, don’t believe me.”  Judy said crossing her arms.  “Ask my parents, they’ll tell you.”

And that they did.

Her mother pulled out a whole book of photos for Judy’s junior year of school, and everything.  She talked Nick through every picture she had of Judy’s punk fashion.  Explained how Judy was always something of a rebel, the loud music, leather, and dyed fur all made some sense, though it was something of a shock. 

Nick just sat in disbelief.  Whatever images he had of her in high school broken.

“Not fair, Fluff.”  He complained leaned back against the couch.  “I’m suppose to be the cool one.”

Judy snorted at the fox.  “Nerd.”

“You know this means we had to break out our old jackets and go somewhere.”

“Black Horns plays in Zootopia in two months.”

Nick could only stare at her in complete awe.


AN: I need both Punk!Judy and Punk!Nick like crazy!  Give me the art!  Give me the fics!  I need them all.


Author’s Note:

Soooooooo, I may have written Dream Daddy fan fiction….

It’s about Damien and his life and flower meanings because I am an enormous Victorian nerd, so I know about all the cool flower meanings and all.

It’s kinda like a character study?

Basically, it’s cute, it’s one of the longest things I’ve ever written and I have spent so much time writing this shiz, so I might as well post it.

(This may end up becoming a series of lgbt character studies based around flowers. Don’t ask me why, but it might.)


Flowers had always fascinated him. They were the brightness on the cracked sidewalk outside his house (he refused to call them weeds). The only nice thing in the quaint garden of their terraced house. The only real constant in his young life.

By a young age, he knew the name of every single one in his area and the ones he couldn’t find out? Well, he instead named them himself. 

His step mother had loved his interest. She saw him taking care of the garden and him learning about it as a chance to “bond with her darling step daughter”. The garden soon filled with the flowers they planted: sunflowers, roses, lilies, cinquefoil. He had wanted to be left alone, but she was the one who gave him the money for the seeds, so he accepted her help. 

Turns out she could be quite pleasant.

And that she was allergic to pollen.

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“Years later we’d be told that we weren’t real punks by boys in bands who acted like our dads when they were drunk and they can all brag now about how they were there when we took over the stage and took our fair share, but whatever the truth, in the end we made tiny islands where we didn’t always have to be afraid.”

-Run Fast, The Julie Ruin

ID #39661

Name: Tuba
Age: 19
Country: Turkey

Hello guys! I am new here. I’ve never met someone through here. So i am kinda excited. Sorry :)
I am here because i love meeting new people across the world a lot. Learning about different cultures is so exciting.
I am studying english language teaching i am gonna be english teacher! I hope. So i am looking for someone i can practise my english with. But not just english i have interest in every language i really wanna learn new ones. Besides languages i love watching movies, reading books, listening music and seeing new places. I really love punk music that would be rad to meet someone who likes punk too especially blink-182 and Tom DeLonge but i am open to every interest i wanna learn new things!
Other things I love are space, aliens, nature, MCU, Star Wars, LOTR, Harry Potter and dogs. My favorite shows are teen wolf, breaking bad, criminal minds, skam, sense8, stranger things, new girl, 13rw. Well i can’t find anything else right now. It looks like i am barely interesting but whatever maybe someone will want to talk to me. I really want new friends. :)
Sorry if i made any mistake i am still trying to improve my english.
And finally we can talk through anything doesn’t matter for me.

Preferences: i don’t have any. just somone kind and friendly to everyone


09-08-2015 Interview de Florence à Chicago.

The “machine” part of Florence and the Machine is a woman named Isabella Summers. Can you tell me about your partnership — your friendship — over these many years?

Florence : Yeah, I mean, it was a catalyst for everything, if you think about it. I met her, I think I was 16, 17. She was DJing in a room that was made out to be like a jungle. It was like, people covered in bubble wrap, I can’t remember.

Sounds like a good party.

Florence : Really good party! Well, there was a big live music and art scene where I was growing up, all these punk bands and performance artists. The first song that I wrote with her, she just gave me this old piano and was like, “Do whatever you want.” And I think the first song I wrote was “Between Two Lungs,” and then literally the next song we wrote together was “Dog Days Are Over.”

We didn’t have any equipment — that was just banging on the walls. We stole a drum from the next door studio; we used pens. And because I didn’t really know how to play things that well, I’d use my voice as an instrument most of the time, so that’s where this big choral thing came from. Once I had “Dog Days,” I think, I had a sound.

(source : http://www.npr.org/2015/08/09/430351233/florence-welch-comes-face-to-face-with-herself-on-how-big-how-blue-how-beautiful )

Skype sex 101

“Hi kitten!”

The sound of Phil’s voice brought a small smile to the pastel boys face, along with a light blush that covered his cheeks.

“Hi!” Dan said with a little more happier tone than his boyfriend, and that’s because he just felt genially happy whenever he saw Phil; even if he’s had a sorta rough day, well week actually.

“How was your day gorgeous?”

“If I’m being honest, stressful.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I just miss you so fucking much and I’m horny and needy and I really need you right now..” Dan let out a small whine as he rambled on; so sexually frustrated he wasn’t even really aware of what he was saying.

“I miss you too kitten, daddy will be home soon alright? Just a few more days and I’ll be there to touch you and make sure you’re pleased..” Phil’s tone of voice changed, it was a bit deeper, a bit more dominate.

“But daddy I can’t wait any longer! I haven’t touched myself all week! This isn’t fair..” Dan lips formed into a pout, he didn’t care if he was acting childish. It was just his way of trying to get what he wanted, sometimes it worked; others it didn’t.


Phil’s voice had a little more dominance in it. Which made Dan shut up real quick.

“‘Now, you’ve been good boy. Not touching yourself all week? I’m proud of you. And you know what good boys get right?”

Dan shook his head, if he were to take a wild guess he probably get it right. But playing smart wasn’t in his book right now.

“Good boys get to cum.”

Dan bit his lower lip, feeling his white skinnies getting a little tighter than usual.

“Why are you all silent baby? I know you want to cum. Now c'mon strip for daddy.”

Dan didn’t need to be told twice, he sat up a little so he was able to pull off his white skinnies; finally being able to take these damn things off.

“Black lace? Hm.. I’m surprised it wasn’t a pair of your cute pastel ones.” Phil bit his lower lip, letting his eyes scan over Dan’s body.

“Mm, wanted to surprise you daddy..” He mumbled shamelessly, tossing the jeans to the floor, making a mental note to pick those up later.

“Hm, were you planning on having skype sex today?” Lips formed into a smirk, making Dan feel just a bit more confident.

“Hm, maybeee..” The pastel said, running a finger teasingly under the waistband of the lacy panties, making sure his boyfriend had a perfect view.

“Naughty boy..” These words weren’t very clear to make out since Phil was currently removing his shirt.
Dan bit his lower lip and took his time to look over Phil’s body, the boy was honestly a masterpiece in Dan’s eyes. Tattoos covered both his arms and one on his neck.
The tattoos were probably one of his favorite parts about his boyfriend. How much color they had and they were all so unique..
Dan snapped out of his thoughts when he remembered what he was supposed to be doing; stripping for his daddy.

In one swift motion the pastel boy removed the panties; shyly covering himself.

“Baby don’t act so shy all of a sudden, you’re gorgeous alright?”

Dan’s cheeks were a darker shade of red and he nodded, slowly pulling off his jumper which knocked his flower crown off his head in the process; he could careless right now.

“Beautiful..” Phil mumbled, letting his eyes wonder over Dan’s body.

“Thanks.” Dan’s response was a little more cocky; something Phil was used to by now.

The punk didn’t response, only continued to remove both his jeans and boxers.
While Phil was distracted with that, Dan moved off the bed and over to the bedside drawer, biting his lower lip.

“Kitten what are you looking for?”
Dan’s response was only a giggle as he grabbed what he needed.

“This!” He smiled, holding up a bottle of lube: cherry of course.

“Plan on fingering yourself baby?” Phil not his lower lip and ran a hand through his hair; pushing it back a little.

“Mhmm.” The younger boy hummed, putting a little on his fingers to warm it up.
Once he finished warming up the lube and laid back.

“You look so good baby, mm wish I was there to finger you instead..” And that’s where the dirty talk began, he didn’t even need to look to know Phil had his hand wrapped around that cock of his.

“Fuck..” Dan whined as he pushed one finger in; he knew he could take more than just that but he needed to pace himself.
Phil let out a low moan before he could even speak,
“oh come on kitten, add another finger it won’t hurt.”
And Dan knew it wouldn’t hurt, hell. He could take three or four fingers if he really tried.
But he just obeyed Phil and added another finger; back slightly arching off the bed.
“D-Daddy.. Mm..” He was in pure bliss, not touching yourself for a week was awful but it made every little touch feel even better.
“See doesn’t that feel- mm.. Better?”
The punks words being interrupted by a tiny noise. And Dan would admit he loves the noises his boyfriend makes, even if it’s a tiny one.
“So much better.. Wish these were your fingers daddy..” He moaned out, slightly scissoring them.
“Only a few more days kitten..then I’ll be there and we can do whatever you’d like.”
Phil’s voice was low and quiet but you could still make out what the boy was saying.

Dan squirmed a little as he added another finger; a loud moan escaping his lips in which he made no attempt to cover it. He wasn’t ashamed of his noises and honestly didn’t care if the neighbors heard.
“Mmm, fuck..” He panted softly; Phil already knew he wouldn’t last long, he’s only nineteen after all.

“Hm, baby go ahead and wrap your hand around your cock. But keep fingering yourself..”

Dan only responded with a nod, which was pointless because Phil couldn’t really see at the angle he was at.
Dan brought his other hand up and wrapped it around his cock, starting to pump slowly at first.

“You’re close I can tell.”

The younger boy whined, trying to deny that.

“You can cum kitten, I don’t mind. You’re doing so good for daddy so go ahead. Cum.”

All it really took was for Phil to say those words and he came, moaning loudly and arching his back off the bed
“F-fuck..” He whined, slowly pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the bed the sheets.

“Mm, sorry daddy.. I didn’t mean to cum so early..”

“ ’s fine kitten, but daddy still needs to cum.. Think you can help him out?”

Dan nodded, he knew exactly what the older male meant.

“C'mon daddy, cum for me please? I know you want to..” He started, still in his post orgasm stage.
“Just imagine If you were with me, my hand on your cock- or even better my mouth on your cock.” Dirty talk for Dan was like a hobby, he didn’t it for both of their pleasure.

“Close kitten..” Phil said in between pants, his hand moving just a bit faster.

“Daddy just think of all the things we can do when you get back, I’ll ride you, you can tie me up, spank me, I’m yours, use me how you want.” A small smirk played on Dan’s lips as he heard a loud moan.

“Fuck.. Can’t wait to get home baby..” Not a full sentence, but Dan wouldn’t blame him.

The pastel didn’t say anything, because nothing really need to be said.

“I love you..” He randomly blurted out after a few minutes of letting Phil come off of his high.

“I love you too.”
A/N: ew this is so bad

So, a while ago I made this disneybound outfit. All and all, the reception has been pretty nice, but there’s an issue I’ve been trying to swallow for about a year now and I just can’t be quiet anymore. I’ve asked in pretty plain terms that people please not steal the concept or try to recreate it, but there have been multiple occasions where that’s been entirely disregarded. Needless to say, as someone who worked hard on my own ideas and with my own hands to put it together, it’s a little disconcerting. I just need to get this off my chest and out into the open.

Creating (art, making stuff, all that goodness) is where I find a lot of my fulfillment in life, so it’s really validating when people give something I do recognition. I spent a long time thinking up and slowly bringing the pieces of this together. This all stems from my passion for Peter Pan and his story and styles I personally relate to. I did what I felt make sense for Peter and what felt natural for me to wear. I was glad it showed since people seemed to like it.

What I wasn’t so thrilled with was when I saw comments or received asks upon asks of this nature (and this is just a handful):

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I try to be polite, I answer these things privately if not brush them off.  I never wanted to evoke the forces of social justice, so I never called anyone out despite how much seeing people steal the idea upset me. It’s not that I wish I would have put anyone on blast, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t regret not trying harder to address these people. Why? Because then I received this: 

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I really appreciated this tumblr user for giving the heads up, but it was pretty disheartening to hear the news. What happens mere hours after?

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Hmm… Coming to me because you know someone called you out on it and then apologizing after the fact you did something totally makes it okay. By the way, I checked out their page, and of the pics I saw they had up there, I saw not so much as a mention of them being inspired by anyone, much less a link back or anything like that. This was just one of many to follow. 

Just going into the tag “punk Peter Pan” or “Peter Pan cosplay” reveals more cases the longer you scroll. Most others I’ve either seen on Peter Pan blogs I follow. None of these people (ones that are blatant copies, that is) asked permission, or if they did, they completely ignored that I asked that they please don’t try to remake what I did. As you can see, people like to use the line “I’ll give credit!” Like that softens the blow. I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t see one mention of me or the PeterLily account on any of the photos anyone’s uploaded. On a few occasions, I contacted some of the people who did this, asking that at the very least they could link back, make mention of their inspiration, something. Not one replied.

But it’s flattery that someone should want to remake your design! Not to me. Flattery would be a nice compliment, or some art, making a skin on Animal Crossing (someone did that and it was adorable)? I don’t know, but things of that nature. To me, recreating the outfit for some convention isn’t about complimenting me, it’s about other people complimenting you as though you came up with it yourself. So, uh, this argument isn’t doing anything to convince me.

I don’t want people attacking those who’ve done this, just for everyone who has or would to know what it is they’re doing through their actions of blatant disregard. It’s insulting, hurtful and makes people not want to put anything up. Think of this as art theft.

It doesn’t matter if you feel entitled to something (something someone else made for themselves, not for you) or if you think someone is being defensive in ways you don’t understand. If the artist makes their wishes clear, you should respect them.

This outfit is just one case that happens more often than anything else. Both myself and Venia have seen several occasions where an attempt to take one idea or another was made. The small stuff we try not to sweat, but when it keeps happening, I think we’re within our rights to defend ourselves. We don’t own characters or themes, we didn’t invent existing styles, but for all the articles and accessories we made ourselves, those are ours. You can do a punk inspired Peter Pan outfit! By all means, have fun, but don’t rip off the one I designed.

There’s a level of trust people put into strangers on the internet when they post their art, whatever form it may be. It’s exciting to create, and you naturally want to share it with others. However, it’s meant to be enjoyed within the parameters of respect. Just because someone puts something of theirs up because they wanted to share what they made with the world, does NOT mean you are entitled to take it as your own.

It’s sad this has made me second guess sharing what I do, but I’m 300% done. I’m allowed to be mad that people have taken something I made, and I am. So yeah. People, be kind to others. Consider integrity might be worth a little more than you getting a shallow compliment for something you didn’t even design. Thanks for anyone who actually read through this long time coming rant, feels good to get it out.

actual talk shit/get hit éponine thénardier

My “Hi! I actually passed this as part of my short story for a CW major and it’s my first time writing fluff but everybody liked it so meh” offering of the waiting behind you in line but ‘excuse you me did i just hear you talking shit about my favourite superhero there SON’” college AU persuasion. 

There are varying degrees of dislike and hate, and going to the supermarket would - to Éponine, at least - rate at “if you were a person, I’d wish you the sensation of a thousand lost sneezes for the rest of your natural life. And then some”. Suffice to say, if it would only cost her 20 bucks to get her roommate to go, she’d fork it over every single time. But alas, said roommate has drawn the line at processed food, ever since she’s had that flier shoved down her throat by one of the overly zealous hipster activists at school, and 20 sad bucks do not hold their appeal anymore. 

“Go organic or go yourself," Cosette had said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smirking that evil pursed-lip smirk of hers. 

And this is how Éponine ends up at the nearest shop, hugging junk food and a six-pack to her chest, waiting in what seems to be the slowest-moving line in the history of slow-moving lines. She’d listened to two songs already, post-punk blasting at two bars past decent earphone listening, before an old woman clucked noisily right behind her, muttering something about "I could hear that trash from where I’m standing, young lady”. 

And it’s not that she hates grumpy old women who smell faintly of starch, but seriously, she has been in line for at least ten minutes now, grumbling behind three more people and a stingy yuppie who is arguing with the cashier over the merits of InstaBake, and it still doesn’t seem as if this trip to hell would be over soon. This is supposed to be the express lane, for crying out loud. 

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The Pen Dare

Avengers x Reader, Pietro x Reader (it’s mostly platonic and funny but I kind of accidentally on purpose have some Pietro flirtation in it)

Warnings: cursing (language, Stevie), highschool reader

A/N: Admin Akane and I are working on the contest winner’s stories right now, but I’m trying to keep us fairly active by posting things we wrote a while ago without requests on our free time (the prompt is bolded). Requests are still open, enjoy!

  “This pen wasn’t worth stealing,” you muttered to yourself. Your stupid friends made you do a stupid dare to steal a stupid pen from Tony Stark’s stupid desk, so now you were being chased down the street by Iron Man at 1:43 in the morning.

  Surprisingly, getting in wasn’t hard. You had hacked into the mainframe and shut everything down, assuming everyone inside the tower was asleep due to how late it was. Your friends insisted you be on the phone with them the entire time you were in the building. God, were they annoying.

  Since the mainframe was down, you literally walked through the front door, using google to figure out where you needed to be, and took the elevator to Tony’s floor without a hitch. You found his office and you quietly snuck in. You grabbed a pen off of his desk and informed your friends you had succeeded. You should’ve anticipated the noise they would make when they heard you had gotten the pen, but you didn’t. They were so loud you had to hang up on them; nevertheless, it was too late. You turned around to find yourself face to face with a very angry Tony Stark. He was wearing avengers pajamas and you just couldn’t help yourself. You burst into laughter at the sight.

   He attempted to look menacing, but those pajamas kept him from succeeding. “What on earth are you doing in my office?”

   You attempted to get yourself together. “I needed a pen,” you snickered, “for a dare.” Then you collapsed in a fit of giggles.

  “Are you done?”

  “Almost. Nice PJ’s,” you managed to get out before you stood up straight, brushed off your shirt, ran to the stairs, and attempted to escape the building. Iron Man was not someone whose wrath you were willing to face. Of course Mr. Stark wasn’t going to let you off easy, which is how you ended up in your current predicament.

  You had managed to keep him at bay for at least three blocks now, and you had called your friends again hoping they could pick you up.

  “Come on! You got me into this mess and I need you to help me get out of it.” You panted into your phone.

  “I can’t believe Tony freaking Stark is chasing a teenager down the street in his iron man suit. Like, the guy’s a billionaire, he can get more pens.”

   “Shut up and pick me up on 12th and 3rd,” You hung up, pushed through your screaming lungs and muscles to run the last couple of blocks to 12th and 3rd, and hopped in the passenger seat of your friend’s car. Unfortunately for you, Tony Stark was not ready to give up. Your friend floored it, while your other friends cheered at the sight of the pen. You rolled your eyes, and threw the pen into the back of the car. After a couple of blocks, you came upon a red light.

   “Drive! No one’s here and Iron Man is chasing us! Go!” You screamed.

   “I can’t get a ticket! My mom will kill-” That was all you heard before the car door was ripped off and you were flown back to the tower in Iron Man’s clutches, all the while pouting with your arms crossed.

  When you finally reached the tower, Tony took you into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. He looked pissed.

  “I can’t believe some kid hacked their way into to my house to take my fucking pens,” he muttered as he left the elevator, grabbing you by the arm and flinging you into a conference room. The audacity of this guy! He stole you from your friend’s car and threw you in some room. You had words for Tony Stark, you were in the middle of telling him off in your head with a very long string of profanities when you noticed there were other people in the room.

  You had to do a double take. The conference room was filled with every Avenger, from Captain America to The Vision.

  “This is them?” Pietro (BAE AS FUCK, and not dead YES - that was Admin Akane’s contribution lol, sorry not sorry) asked, skeptical and with a heavy sokovian accent, “They’re the one who hacked into your mainframe? And why?”

  Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “To steal a pen; don’t remind me, Speedy,” he then turned to you, “What’s your name?”

  “Y/N L/N,” you huffed. “Why am I here?”

  They ignored you, and began to discuss the situation while Tony did quick research on you.

  “They hacked into one of the best security systems in the world,” Steve started, “They’d be a valuable asset.”

  “We already have hackers,” Natasha added, “We don’t need more.”

  “But nobody has been able to hack Tony before.” Clint pointed out.

  “Do we really need another moody teenager on our team?” Tony asked, directing his comment at Pietro. You glared at him.

  “You’re the moodiest person I’ve ever met, Stark,” Pietro shot back at Tony with a smirk.

  “Considering the rather reckless behavior from them, it may be beneficial to their adolescent growth to be around successful people,” stated Vision.

  “They are quite the impressive Midguardian from the profile you pulled up,” Thor said, reviewing the information Tony had gathered.

  “Top of their class,” Banner added with a nod in your direction.

  “With lots of extracurriculars.”

  “So you’re telling me we’re going to add a punk to the team because they beat me? That’s all it takes to be an Avenger?” Stark asked sarcastically.

  “They’ll obviously go through extensive training. And it’s not like they’ll be going into the field tomorrow, they’d have to work their way up to that point but we have things to learn as well as teach in this relationship.” Steve explained.

  “Is this too much of a blow to your ego, eh Stark?”

  “Shut up Sonic, and let me think.”

  “Yeah whatever, metal man,” Pietro leans over and whispers to you loudly enough so everyone else can hear, “He wears a suit made of gold and titanium alloy but calls himself Iron Man?”

  To which you replied, “You should’ve seen his pajamas.”

- Admin Kira

anonymous asked:

Okay, I would like to say that black kids are sort of looked down upon if they like rock music (even though black people literally made rock music) but since it's recognised as a "white genre".. like I remember getting into punk rock a few years ago, and my friends thought I was super weird, my mom thought I was weird & my white friends thought I was lying about liking rock music... so we just conform to the expectations that people have already set out for us.

it’s like you are expected to ‘love rap”.   I know many black (whatever they want to be called. it’s a label)  that don’t care for rap.

wasnt-expecting-that  asked:

In my theater class, my theater professor was talking about the circus and pickled punks and it made me think of your story. Hope your day is super fantastic like you ❤️

!!!! in my history of graphic arts class, near the end of the semester, we’re going to look at circus posters and i can’t wait for that day 👀

thank you :-) my day was okay! i didn’t need to take a thirty-minute break during ceramics like i usually do because my professor was… mostly absent during the entirety of class, and when he leaves the room, all my tension and whatever bad mood i was in when i walked into the room seems to disappear

i get to register for classes tonight and i honestly think… everything is going to work out? i’m still stressed about it, but i’m never not stressed, so this is… normal, but i’m so fucking excited because i’m 98% sure i’m not gonna have to take 3D art classes next semester!!! and i’m so happy!!! (no offense to 3D artists. it’s just not my cup of tea)

so… uh… yeah! i guess you could say i’m doing fantastic! i’m gonna try to write a bit before i have to register for classes at midnight

A long drunk post about music

So Steve Strange died today. I’m sure a lot of people, young and old, are like “who is Steve Strange” and why should I care. Well you should care.

The more I’ve learned about music in my lifetime the more I see that sometimes it’s the “little people”— the unknown originators who have more of an impact on the modern age and the world we live in than those who are considered the greats or get credit for things they didn’t even originate (A great example of this is The Beatles getting credit for using the Moog early, when in reality the Monkees did TWO YEARS before and literally get no credit for anything. But I digress).

I think that’s why the older I get I continue to speak the gospel of bands and artists who never get recognition or RESPECT, like the Monkees, or Adam Ant, or the Human League, or Japan, or even Duran Duran, rather than focus on the biggies like The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Hendrix. Trust me, their legacies are safe. They will always get their props. 

But someone like Steve Strange, who only really had one “hit” with his pioneering synthpop band Visage and founded the seminal and important Blitz Club and is credited with helping start the new romantic movement, probably won’t get respect. They will fade away. And that’s a shame. Because what he and his cohorts in the late 70s and early 80s created is something that has an immense impact on our lives, whether you know it or not. 

The 70s was a bleak time in the US and the UK, albeit with amazing music, whether it was disco, funk, soul, punk, reggae, rock n roll, you name it, the 70s were great artistically because anything was possible. By the end of the 70s and into the early 80s, it all collapsed very quickly. The classic rock world had a lot of untimely deaths and band breakups. Punk died almost as quickly as it started. Disco fizzled out due to over-saturation, overindulgence, and a healthy dose of racism/homophobia, the record industry in general was collapsing. By 1980 things were looking pretty bad.

Which made room for a lot of strange creative people to break through with new sounds, a new look, a new energy. And when MTV debuted in 1981, that look and sound went worldwide, to random places like Iowa.

But before MTV, there were a bunch of former art school kids who grew tired of the darkness and muted colors and political malaise of the punk movement who wanted to make things theatrical and fun and joyful again. People who wanted to go out and have a good time and look ridiculous and care about petty things like fashion and art and frivolous things, because the modern age was shitty and depressing and after Vietnam and the 70s everyone just wanted to have fun. Steve Strange and the Blitz kids were these people. And the way they dressed and the music they made (and similarly other British bands from other cities at the same time) influenced the entire decade of the 80s which in turn, changed the way that we visualize and market music (for better or worse, some might argue).

These post-punks or new romantics or whatever, did not do things on a whim. Every Tuesday the Blitz Club was popping off and people planned their outfits for an entire week. How you presented yourself was a huge deal. This coincided with things Adam Ant was doing, and Duran Duran, and the Human League in terms of strategically developing a LOOK that went along with their SOUND. I mean these were all former art school brats, this was a part of the whole package for them.

They had no idea that MTV would be a thing and that videos would be a thing, this was just how they lived their lives. But this strategic thinking about an evolving look became something in the 80s that went hand in hand with new albums. Adam Ant was a very early pioneer in this, in creating an overall visual for each new “era” or album, and soon American artists like Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, and beyond would adopt this approach to their art. This is still something that artists today see as a necessity for their career, not only introducing a new album but a new look, whether it’s Rihanna or Gaga or Taylor Swift or Britney Spears or whatever.

The 60s/70s was about being apart of a tribe of like-minded people all in things together, the late 70s punk and disco movement was similarly about being a part of “something” but still standing out and being original, and these new romantics and British post-punk bands took it a step further in strategically marketing themselves in the most outrageous way that was almost equally as important as the music. The birth of the 1980s was with these people. The way they thought about music not only sonically but visually and in terms of marketing changed that entire decade and whether you know it or not, influenced music today, influenced the way you dress, influenced the way you look at fashion, and culture, and clubs, and socializing.

And Steve Strange and the Blitz kids are not well known like classic rock stars or whatever, but they are people that deserve a legacy, they deserve a second glance, and for whatever reason, a lot of people in the 1980s don’t get the same respect as classic rock people, even though their approach to music and fame and art has impacted your daily life more than say, your average classic rocker. And it’s a real shame that other than maybe The Smiths and Bruce Springsteen and maybe Prince, people don’t analyze the 1980s in an academic way. Even someone like Michael Jackson, who obviously and unfortunately distrusted the press and really valued privacy in the last 20 years of his life, never got the chance to really discuss his impact and legacy while he was alive.

And now with Steve Strange dead, we will never get that kind of access to what life was like in the early 80s when things were depressing and gray before he and his cohorts changed that decade into neon and technicolor, and it made it ok for music to be fun and visual and status and looks oriented. And that is a shame. And my only wish as someone who is not a musical gatekeeper, is that maybe instead of interviewing these old classic rock people who tell the same stories OVER AND OVER to just MOVE ON, focus on some of these people who constantly get overlooked and under appreciated but who had a tremendous effect on the MODERN AGE.


The punk scene told me I could do what I wanted to do. They stood for things that were not popular amongst the mainstream. We were all bonded. If you knew what was going on, then you knew what was going on. My church was VFW halls, dirty clubs, and basements. The guys in these bands inspired me then, they made me who I am today and still inspire me now. I encourage you to go find your punk rock, to find your lucha libre, to find your professional wrestling, and let it lead you to your life. The punk rock scene told me to do whatever I wanted to do, and that I could be what I wanted to be… and so, I am.” - Lita

5 Seconds of Summer -- You're more punk-rock than them

My friend helped me write this because I simply didn’t manage to write anything. Huge writers-block. And she told me to write the nicknames for the boys, so please don’t be mad about their nicknames. It’s just a preference… I love the boys, but some people don’t understand jokes… Sorry if this offends any of you beautiful unicorns (I was born a unicorn. Not kidding. I had a birthmark that stuck out on the front of my head like a horn). Be unicorns with the boys now :3

You pulled your light blue hair into a ponytail, groaning silently when the layers in your hair simply didn’t like you today.

“Are you coming, Y/N?” your bandmate called.

“Calm down, for the love of Mother Nature,” you grumbled and got off the couch and walked down the hallway to where your bandmates had gone.

“Hey, I’m Ashton,” a guy wearing a ripped Nirvana sweater smiled. His hair was a soft brown colour. The other three stopped with whatever they were doing. It looked like two of them were messing with the tall one.

“Eh, hey. I’m Y/N…” you looked at the four guys. One guy did catch your eye though. Purple hair that was untameable. That’s a fitting name for him.

“Hi. I’m Michael,” he smiled. You just gave him a small nod, looking at the two other boys who introduced themselves.

“I’m really sorry, but you guys can’t be backstage. Only singers and performers backstage,” you mumbled. They all looked a bit puzzled.

“Oh, eh, we are performers,”

“You guys are performers? You do know this is a punk-rock festival, right?”

“We are so punk-rock,” the tall one said in a much more manly voice than he usually would have, and the other guys puffed their chest out. Nirvana broke out in laughter which made Asian and Tall laughs as well. Purple chuckled and turned around to look at something before looking back at you.

“Yeah, sure. But honestly. You guys can’t be backstage,”

“No, seriously. We are performers. We are 5 Seconds of Summer,” that made a bell ring.

“Oh, yeah. Your dressing room is down the hall,”

“We know who you guys are though. We are big fans,” Asian smiled. Or maybe he wasn’t Asian? Whatever. As if I hadn’t heard that before.

“Though, we are a lot more punk-rock than you guys are,” he said. You just smirked.


“No doubt. I mean, can’t you see our beautiful colourful clothing? Any punk-rock-thing you can do, we can do better” he smiled. Maybe it was worth learning his name?

“Was it Colton?”
“Calum,” he smiled.

“Alright, Colton,” you smirked, making his smile fade so he just glared changeling. “If you’re so ‘punk-rock’, as you call it, why do you need to prove it so badly?” That made them chuckle.

“Because we are horrible at being punk-rock. We are actually unicorns,” Nirvan– Ashton? Ashton said. That made you laugh. And not many things made you laugh. Lately, you had been pretty far down. You were just tired of everything and in a need of sleeping for years.

“You know what? I’m a better unicorn than you are,” you laughed. Michael laughed.
“Yeah, right! Blue is SO not unicorny. Purple is. And pink,”
“You coloured your hair pink?!” you laughed.

“I have dyed my hair in the colour of the rainbow. But I regret the blue though. I couldn’t fly when I did,” he mumbled with pout.

You couldn’t stop laughing at the four guys as they continued saying a bunch of stupid stuff. In fact, you and the four guys were eventually chilling in their dressing room. They would occasionally ask you how you guys had gotten the reputation as ‘punk-rock’ because they actually wondered, but you just laughed at them when they did. You had forgotten all about your bandmates right now. 

i shaved my balls for another girl yesterday. another girl who wasn’t you. it made me really sad.

I shaved my balls
for another girl

Another girl
who wasn’t

It made me
really sad.

I didn’t even wanna
be doing it.

I just felt
forced to
for some reason.

It felt a lot
like homework
in that way.

Shaving my balls
for another girl
who wasn’t you
felt a lot like homework
and I never, ever
gave a shit
about homework.

The overall
ball-shaving job
I did on my nutsack
looked like I had
copied all the answers
from my best friend
in the hallway
two minutes before

My overall
ball-shaving job
when I shaved them
for you
never looked like

More like
I had been up all night
looking through my text books
for all the right

Check ++
kinda work.

at least
that was the way
I hoped my ball-shaving
looked for you.

I remember yesterday
as I hovered and squatted
over the toilet
and solemnly ran
the electric razor
over my nutsack
like a sad Hank Williams
that all I could think
    I should be shaving
my balls for her
right now.
    Not someone else.
I should be manscaping
for her.
    Why aren’t I
for her?

This is bullshit…

All I want
is her.

    I don’t ever want
anyone else
around my cock and balls
but her…

It just didn’t
make sense.

It still doesn’t
make sense.

Your lips and tongue
shoulda been kissing
my balls
until they were so old
and wrinkly
that they dangled down
to my knees.

And I shoulda been
kissing your boobs
until they were so old
and saggy
that they drooped down
to your knees.

You kissing
my old, wrinkly

    Me kissing
    your old, saggy

That’s the way
it coulda ended up.

We coulda had

And that’s the kinda love
you carve
into an old-ass
oak tree
with a heart
around it.

You kissing
my old, wrinkly
and me kissing
your old, saggy
carved into an old-ass
oak tree
with a heart
around it.

    Fuck yeah,


That was what
I wanted.

My biggest fear
used to be dying alone
but now it’s become
kissing some other girl’s
and secretly wishing
during the entirety
of our 30 years of marriage
that her knee-boobs
were always your

This makes me
shit my pants
because of how totally
it seems.

    Whatever you were,
you affected me
so profoundly
I can’t ever imagine
anyone else moving me
in the simple/complicated/unexplainable
that you did.

I know so
because I heard poetry
and punk rock
in everything
you did.

The way
you ran your fingers
through your
after we had
had sex.

The way
you whispered “Ninja…”
to yourself
before stealthily
running bare-ass naked
from your bedroom
to the bathroom
hoping your parents
or brother
wouldn’t see you.

It was all

It was all
so, so

Like those desserts
we used to get
at The Olive Garden
but made outta
a human.

Made outta

When I was finished
doing my half-assed
ball-shaving job
I stared down
at my pubes
sitting on the surface
of the toilet water
like little, black
pubey ducks.

I couldn’t
bring myself
to flush them.
    In a weird way
they belonged
to you.

I went into the kitchen
and grabbed a loaf
of white bread.

I walked back
to the bathroom
and tore up
the slices of bread
and fed the pieces
to your little, black
pubey ducks.

They weren’t hungry
    your little, black
pubey ducks.

I looked down
at them
peacefully co-existing
with the torn up
pieces of bread.

I wanted
to cry.

What killed me
was that it coulda been

That I didn’t
have to be standing there
looking at my shaven pubes
that I had shaved
for another girl,
    and not you,
awkwardly floating
next to bread crumbs.

It coulda
all been different.

If only
you had said
to me…


© Calvero 2014

OK SO PROMPT “as teenagers we were best friends/boyfriends and i was the innocent nerdy guy and you were the punk bad boy who corrupted me (playfully of course) we made out a lot and i gave you my virginity and we lost contact and went on with our lives but we ended it on a good note and now i work as a tattoo artist and youre getting a tattoo at the place i work at and youre still as flirty and pretty as you were like 5 years ago” WITH PHIL AS THE INNOCENT TATTOO ARTIST AND DAN AS THE BADBOY/PUNK AND YOU CAN MAKE IT SMUT OR WHATEVER YOU WANT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THX UR AWESOME