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Don’t ever tell me that marching band isn’t important.

I have had so many problems with public schools putting all the emphasis on athletics. When a school’s budget is cut, they don’t choose to take a little from each program. No. They choose to completely eradicate the arts programs, usually starting with the marching band. If you don’t play sports, you’re not a valuable asset, you’re not qualified for scholarships, and you mean nothing. Marching band? Why would we be impressed that you’re in marching band?

Anyone can do that.

Okay, fine. Anyone can do marching band. Anyone can spend hours on the field doing the same forty-second section over and over and over and over. Anyone can hit over 75 precise dots on the field with the correct step sizes, the correct amount of steps, the correct timing, without being so much as an inch to either side, in order and without looking at the yard line markers or the field. Anyone can memorize all of those extremely specific points on the grass and varying counts for steps and then execute them with a shako visor pulled down over your eyes and looking up at the press box the whole time. If you look down at the yard line markers to see where you are, congratulations, you just lost points for the group.

Anyone can memorize eight pages of notes, rhythms, dynamics, phrasing, and tempos. (But of course, before you do that you have to learn an instrument with hundreds of different fingerings and learn how to make slight changes in your lips to change notes and stay in tune.) Memorize all seven and a half minutes of music and then marry it to the seventy-five pages of drill you memorized. Do them both perfectly and at the same time. But you can’t just do what you memorized. You have to do it in perfect sync with everyone around you and know how to make the slightest adjustments to fit perfectly within the group. If you’re an inch to the right or barely a thousandth of a step sharp, it’ll throw everything off.

But anyone can do that.

Then add in the fact that you don’t get any individual credit for doing this. The closest you’ll come to recognition is your identity lumped into “The Such-and-Such Marching Band” as you all march onto the field looking exactly the same. You don’t have a number on your back. You have a uniform intended to erase you and turn you into dot T14 and nothing more.

But, for some reason you can’t explain, you love it. You love throwing everything you have into this ridiculously precise pursuit and then not getting any credit for it. You start thanking people when they call you a band geek. You start taping pictures of marching bands into your locker. You start wearing your band shirt everywhere you go. Because you look at the person in an identical uniform next to you and you know that you’ve done this for them and they’ve done this for you. This is more than just a team, this is a family; and if one person is missing from the form, the show can’t ever be the same. 

It costs so much money, so much time. You’re out there on the field in the blazing sun for fourteen hours a day during summer band camp, out in the street getting frostbite on your fingertips during the holiday parade. If anyone knew what you went through for this, they would wonder what made it all worth it.

And the truth is, what makes it all worth it cannot be described. It’s the camaraderie between you and the center snare, the colorguard newbie, the tenor sax player in the set in front of you. It’s the sunset behind you lighting up the back of your plume. It’s the hazy nostalgia that racks your chest with emotion. There’s something about the family you’ve chosen and the experience you’ve internalized that gives you the passion to throw everything down onto that field like nothing else matters in the world… because in that moment, it’s true. 

Your nerves are damaged from the cold. Your skin is damaged from the sun. Your joints are damaged from marching and marching and marching. You’re physically and mentally drained, your body is irreversibly compromised, you’re broke as hell, and all you have to show for it is a polyester jacket and a couple of blurry photographs.

But sports are what require hard work and dedication, not marching band.

Even though you complained basically the entire time you marched and even though you’re done with it, you pull out those photographs and you remember. You remember your first day of high school band camp when you had absolutely no idea what you were getting yourself into. You remember your first final retreat when they announced your band’s name as state champions, and you wanted to cry with happiness but you weren’t allowed to move, so you just clenched your fists so tight that your fingernails dug white crescents into your palms. You remember coming back the next year and thinking you knew everything as a sophomore, only to realize there was still so much to learn. You remember the band trips you spent months fundraising for, all the lame tourist attractions you visited between performances, and how you wouldn’t trade those memories for all the money in the world. You remember being a junior and getting nervous because people looked up to you now: as an upperclassman, as a section leader, as a friend. And then you were a senior and you cried on the final day of band camp. You remember how your life became a series of lasts. You had to decide which of the freshmen would inherit your band cubby, your lucky bottle of valve oil, your bus seat. You went to graduation but it didn’t mean anything because you still had one last band trip coming up. You didn’t shed a tear when you tossed your cap but you cried like a child after your last parade. You remember on the plane ride home, you expected to feel devastated and heartbroken, but you just felt… empty.

You remember printing out what seemed like the most difficult solo in the world. You remember driving up to your college and entering a room with a chair and a stand and a couple of people giving you skeptical looks. You remember getting an email from the college marching band with your audition results and reading it with tears of joy in your eyes because you realized it was starting all over again.

But marching band doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter.

Tell me that it doesn’t matter. Tell me as many times as you want. You could scream it in my face and I still wouldn’t hear because the music we’re making is too damn loud to let anything else in. 

Tell me that it doesn’t matter when I’m standing on the field for the last time, knowing that everything behind me will last forever and that nothing will ever mean more to me than this… and all you’ve got is some money and a jersey with a number on the back.

Do not ever tell me that marching band isn’t important. It is everything to me, and it is everything to millions of other band geeks across the world.

When you refuse to support kids because they participate in the arts rather than athletics, you’re no better than the football player who takes lunch money from nerds.

To all of my fellow band geeks… keep marching, even if the world tells you it’s not worth it. It is. God, it is worth it, in ways no one else but you will ever understand. Continue your band career in college. Audition for a drum corps. Stay active in your high school band as an alumnus supporter. You are all my family. 

How to make felt wings

You can make angel wings in a lot of ways and this is how I made a pair out of felt for my latest cosplay. This technique is fairly simple but takes a lot of time.

I started by drawing the shape of one wing on a piece of paper (One wing was for me around 33x26 cm). It is a good idea to also draw out how you want the feathers to be on the paper wing so you can get a hint on how big they should be.

For the feathers I used white hobby felt that I cut out in to six different sizes. This step is by far the most time consuming (it take a lot of time!) and I highly recommend making a pattern of the feathers in cardboard to make the process easier. I made around 600 feathers in total to cover back and front on both wings.

To make the feathers more stiff it is a good idea to coat them with mod podge. Just one coat makes a lot of difference and help the wings keep its shape. (I did not do this step with the smallest feathers since they did not need to be stiff).

To see how I wanted the formation of the feathers I placed them out on the paper wing and took a photo so I could check it later on.

For the base of the wings I cut out the shape of the wing in craft foam. Since I wanted the small feathers on the upper part of the wings to be a bit higher up I glued on some extra craft foam there.  

To hold the base up I used some black worbla that I twisted the lower part of to give them some angle so they didn’t lay flat. To make sure no color show between the feathers everything was painted white and a stripe of felt was glued over the worbla.

Next I started to glue the first row of feathers to each other. Since I did not want to glue them direcly on the foam wing yet I used needles to help mark the placement of the feathers on the next couple of layers.

When I was done gluing the bigger feathers together I took the foam base away and used some transparent paper to draw out the shape of all the feathers except the first row.

I then placed the paper over the foam base and made dots where the inner corners where the feathers on the lower row met. I then draw a line above it and cut along it. This was made because I realised that the felt feathers where a bit see through and the shape of the foam base could be seen. Higher up it were more feathers and harder to see it.

The base was glued to the feathers and was then flipped over and feathers where glued to that side as well.

For my cosplay I needed red stones on the wings. I used two glass prism, black worbla and some red and gold paint to make them. However this made the wings heavier then they needed to be so if you are making something like this, try to use a lighter material for this part.

And they are done! Time consuming but really light (even with the stones) and easy to make.


Bookmarks: DIY

A simple tutorial on how to make your very own bookmarks.


  • Photoshop
  • Laser Printer Paper (preferably 28lb, but 24lb is also fine)
  • Pretty Poster Board or Scrapbooking Paper
  • Glue Stick
  • Scissors & Paper Trimmer
  • Laminator (if you don’t have one, you can buy one at WalMart for $20. They’re SUPER useful to have, especially if you make artsy stuff a lot.)
  • Bookmark Tassels (Optional)
  • 1/8 Inch Hole Punch (Optional)

Step One

First, determine the size of bookmarks you want to make. (Mine are typically 2″ x 6.5″.) When you’ve decided on a size that you like, create a new canvas in Photoshop with those dimensions, and make sure it is set to AT LEAST 300 DPI.

Step Two

Draw your bookmark design! Make sure all of your important stuff doesn’t get too close to your edges because you want to leave a tiiiiiny bit of room for error just in case you mess up when you cut them out.

Step Three

After your bookmark design(s) is done, create another new Photoshop canvas that is 8.5″ x 11″ and set to the same DPI as your bookmarks.

Drag and drop as many of your book mark designs as you can onto your new 8.5 x 11 canvas. Don’t put them very close together, though, as you want to leave enough room to comfortably cut them out later.

Step Four

Assuming you don’t have a laser printer, we’re gonna take a little trip to Staples/Office Depot/Office Max!

Save that canvas with all your bookmarks on it as a JPEG and put it on a flash drive. Grab a small stack of your own paper and put it in a folder (make sure you have a way to show the printer what type of paper it is. You may just wanna bring the whole pack with you, because I know some stores want to make sure you’re giving them laser printer paper to print on, as other paper types will mess up their machines)

Note: I’m not sure about Office Depot/Office Max, but I KNOW Staples will only charge around $0.50 per page to print your image out if you bring your own paper! ♥

Take the flash drive and your paper with you to your nearest office supply store.

Ask the printer there to print out however many copies you want. If you’re very particular about the size of the bookmarks, make sure to tell them to not have it set to “Fit to Size” and instead let it print at 100%.

Step Five

Once your bookmark copies are printed, it’s time to cut them out!

The best way to do this is to use a paper trimmer. You can get a cheap one from WalMart or Michaels for about $5. They’re SUPER useful to have and make cutting straight edges a million times easier.

The reason you want to cut them out before you glue them your poster board/decorative paper is because you want to be able to fit as many bookmarks as you can onto the posters so that you don’t waste any.

Step Six

Time to glue them to your poster(s)/scrap book paper!

I try to buy really unique posterboard that catches the eye and matches the colour schemes of my bookmarks. I usually end up getting metallic colours or holographic poster/paper because that’s what I personally like. I would advise staying away from anything that has textures, though, since you’re going to laminate these later.

Make sure you’re gluing your bookmarks to the BACK of the poster board.

Also, make sure you coat all edges and corners, as you don’t want anything to curl up. A good tip I find is lining any of your bookmark edges up to the edges of the poster board. That way it’s just one or two less edge(s) you have to cut off.

Step Seven

Time to cut out the bookmarks again!

Get as close to the bookmark’s edge as you can so you don’t leave any white poster board backing hanging off the edge. If you have to, it’s totally fine to cut off a millimeter of your bookmark design just to make sure you have a clean trim.

Step Eight

Laminate! Since I already have some Mettaton bookmarks laminated, I’ll use them for this example.

Make sure that when you slip your bookmarks into the lamination sheet, they have a decent amount of space between them. If they get too close, the lamination might not seal all of the way around each bookmark.

Step Nine

Once you get all of your bookmarks laminated, we once again have to cut them out.

It’s very important to leave about a third of a centimeter of lamination on the edge of your bookmarks. If you cut right along the edge of the bookmark, the lamination will eventually peal off, and we don’t want that. We want to keep it nice and sealed.

Be sure to trim the corners a little bit, since they can be kinda sharp and poke you pretty bad.

Step Ten

This part is completely optional, but I love to take an 1/8 inch hole punch and punch a little hole in the top of the bookmark and add a little tassel decoration.

You can find these tassels online from China on Ebay or Aliexpress for pretty cheap. The prices are all about the same no matter who you buy from, so I can’t really give a specific vendor who has the best prices. (Note: pretty obvious, but if you buy them within the US, you’re gonna pay a lot more.)

Bonus Info:

If none of my instructions have made any sense, this video does a wonderful job of explaining the process of bookmark making for artist alleys and whatnot.

Soooo :D after you all requested it (about 3 ppl did - but just let me exaggerate in peace) here is part 3 of Isak and Even doing trust excercises <3 
it starts up right where part 2 ended so if you want to read those first: Part 1 / Part 2 

When they stepped back from each other Isak looked over to Magnus and Vilde. Vilde had a frown on her face that changed into a too bright smile when she caught his gaze. Magnus looked a bit deflated when he saw how close Isak and Even had been. The other two had stopped close in front of each other when both decided this was as close as was comfortable, but there was still a hand length between their bodies.

They had been pretty happy with themselves (especially when most of the other couples had stopped a meter or further away from each other) until their eyes landed on Isak and Even. Who were obviously trying to morph into each other to be closer, toes stacked, noses pressed against each other, touching from chests to knees.

Even shot Mags an encouraging smile as the woman – maybe Lille? – announced the next test.

“Everyone, take one of these scarfs,” she said as she went around and handed each couple one of the colorful fabrics.

“I want the light blue one,” Even stage whispered to Isak who rolled his eyes with pure fondness.

“You’re a child, Even.” But nevertheless he hurried over to where the women was and plucked the light blue one from her arm (this got him a rewarding cheek kiss).

“Blindfold your partner and take your place behind them,” came the instruction. Even raised his brows at Isak and grinned.

“So, nothing new there,” he said as he turned his back to Isak who snorted at his words.

Magnus gave a high pitched “What?” at that which got ignored by the other three.

The next exercise was to guide your partner just with your voice through an obstacle course that the woman – Laura? God, he knew it had been something with L – placed on the ground in front of them.

While the woman talked on about how important it was to completely trust your partner for this Isak rested his hands on Even’s hips and his chin on Even’s shoulder. Even leaned into him a bit and tugged on one of Isak’s hands. He understood the gesture and wrapped his arms around Even’s middle.

When it was time to start Isak placed a quick kiss to the shoulder his chin had been resting on and untangled his arms from around him.

“Ok, go one step forward. For the record, we are talking about normal human-sized steps.” Even laughed and took a relatively moderate step forward.

“Don’t do any of your long spider steps.” This got Isak an offended scoff.

Keep reading

Undercover ~ MAFIA!BTS AU PART 2

Paring: Jungkook x Reader ft. BTS

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,635 Words



You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked patiently at Jungkook.

 “Look Jun-”

 “I’m sorry. I was at a club with the guys, and there was someone, who we didn’t know, that apparently were making some kind of deal, and they started pointing guns at each other and we thought we could step in and get things under control.” Jungkook blurted out as he looked at you from your bed, as you bent down to clean the bloody tiles.

 You sighed heavily as you closed your eyes. Pursing your lips you threw the, now blood soaked, towels in the trash and washed your hands.

 You walked with long steps towards your king sized bed and looked at Jungkook with sad eyes.

 “I’m sorry that it happened to you,” You said as you placed your hand on his, that was resting on his stomach. He smiled at you and pulled you down so you were laying on his chest.

 “I’m better now” He kissed the top of your head, and pulled you even closer to him.

 It had been 2 weeks since the shooting at Jungkook’s club. He told you not to tell anyone so they didn’t get the police involved. You promised you wouldn’t and everything had so far gone back to normal. For you.

 Jungkook held a meeting with the 6 other boys and it was planned that Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung would do a drive-by shooting at one of Sooyoung’s parties.

 Sooyoung was dead of course, someone else had taken over. But this party was planned even before he died and they decided to keep the guest list and party location the same.

“ Jimin, Tae, Hoseok, and I are gonna do a drive-by at Sooyoung’s party,” Jungkook said, motioning one of the guards with a bag over. 

 He sat it down on the table in front of them and Jungkook moved forward to open it.

“Hoseok, I want you to drive.”Jungkook said, laying out a few guns on the table.

“And you three-” He said, pointing at Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin.

“Keep (Y/N) occupied. She’ll be coming over soon.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Still seeing her, huh?”

 Jungkook turned to him calmly, his fingers pushing the bullets into the magazine of his pistol. 

 “Yeah, I don’t get bored and fuck other girl’s behind her back either.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. Jimin decided not to strike back and just sat there and watched Jungkook’s fingers as they grabbed onto the next bullet.

 “Shut up you two. We need to get going. It’s starting soon.” Taehyung said, grabbing two of the remaining guns off of the table and walking towards the door.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

 “You’re right.” Jungkook nodded and grabbed his two, leaving two for Jimin. 

 Once they were ready, Hoseok got into the drivers seat, Jungkook was passenger, Taehyung was left back, Jimin was right. Hoseok drove just like everyone else, trying not to seem suspicious at all. 

 They drove slowly down the street at first, many people were sitting outside. A few children, but mostly men and women. 

 “They’re on both sides of the street. Jimin and I have right, Tae you have left. Shoot as many as you can, Hoseok leave in a minute and a half.” Jungkook said. 

 They all nodded and made sure they were loaded before getting in the correct position. Hoseok drove down the street again, then stopped in the middle of the main two houses everyone was at. Hoseok rolled down the windows while Jungkook counted down from 3. 

 “3…2…SHOOT!” He yelled. 

 Guns immediately went up and they shot at everyone. There were no specific people they were shooting at, they were making a statement. 

 They were stronger. Sooyoung is weak. 

 Women and children were screaming, running inside as quick as they possibly could. Men reached into their pockets for their gun, only to get shot in the process. 

 Hoseok’s foot was hovering over the pedal, waiting for Jungkook to say when to go. Jungkook reloaded as quick as he could, and shot at whoever was looking for somewhere to take cover when he finished. 

 There was a man, he was about mid-twenties. Jungkook smirked slightly and pulled the trigger, shooting him directly in the back. The man screamed in pain, falling to the ground. He watched as the blood soaked his shirt, and then began pooling on the concrete beneath him. 

 It was nearly a minute and a half later when Jungkook yelled for Hoseok to drive. His foot slammed down on the gas and they drove away quickly. Jimin sat and watched as they drove away. Men were laying in the lawn, dead. His eyebrows furrowed when he spotted a very small body laying near the steps to enter the house. 

 It was a child. A young boy no older than 6 or 7 years old was laying there dead. Jimin had shot and killed him. 

 “Jimin!” Taehyung yelled, trying to gain his attention. 

 Jimin jumped, and dropped the gun in the seat. He looked over at Taehyung, his vision was clouded with tears. 

 “The fuck happened to you?” He asked as it was odd behavior for Jimin. He’s never emotional when it comes to this. 

 “I-I… I just killed a fucking child Taehyung.” Jimin said as the tears streamed down his face. No one said a word, the car was filled with silence as they drove back to Hoseok’s to get cleaned up before heading back and seeing (Y/N).

They each showered and changed their clothes before heading back to Jungkook’s house. 

Namjoon, Yoongi, Seokjin, and (Y/N) were seated in the living room watching a movie while patiently waiting for them to arrive. Hoseok and Taehyung walked into the room and took a seat on the couch. 

 "(Y/N)! We’re here!“ They called cheerfully, to you, it seemed like nothing had happened. You had no idea that they had just murdered at least 8 people in cold blood, even a child. 

 Jungkook grabbed onto Jimin and pulled him to the side, not yet walking into the livingroom. 

 "What was that out there?” He asked, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. 

Jimin leaned in and lowered his voice, “I shot a fucking child Jungkook.“ 

Jungkook sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “You didn’t mean to." 

 "But I did! That’s the thing! I did it!” His voice cracked, and he looked up at the ceiling, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

 "Man up Jimin! Grow a set of balls and stop being a little bitch!“ Jungkook raised his voice and threw his arms up. 

 "I can’t! Imagine if you were in my shoes!” Jimin raised his voice back, taking a step closer to him. 

 "If you can cheat on (Y/N) and not feel any emotion after she finds out, you can get over this.“ 

 "What does that have to do with anything?”

 Jungkook groaned and again ran a hand through his hair, “If you weren’t sensitive then, then don’t be sensitive now!” Jimin pushed Jungkook and he stumbled back before quickly gaining his balance and preparing for a fight. 

 It was at this point when you had run out and pulled Jungkook away from Jimin. 

 "Jungkook, calm down!“ You yelled, wrapping your arms around him from behind so he couldn’t move. Taehyung held Jimin back and he was kicking and yelling to try to get his hands on Jungkook. 

 "You’re a fucking liar Jungkook! Why don’t you go tell (Y/N) what just happened, huh!? I think she’d love to know!” He yelled while being pulled out of the room by Taehyung and Namjoon. 

 Jungkook stood and watched, you were tightly holding onto him and he couldn’t do anything. When Jimin had left, you let go of him and followed him to his bedroom. 

 "What was that?“ You asked, watching as Jungkook took a seat on the edge of the bed and worked on pulling off his pants, still having to be careful of his leg. It was still healing and he had to take his time. As he got it off, he walked over to one of his drawers and pulled out a pair of black basketball shorts and put on a white t-shirt. 

 "Nothing, he was being sensitive for no reason.” He shrugged, avoiding eye contact with you. He got in his usual spot in the middle of the bed and opened his arms, signaling for you to come lay with him. 

 You pulled off your pants and moved over to him and straddled his waist. This was a normal thing for you and Jungkook, he was patient and never made any moves with you yet. 

 His hands grabbed onto your hips and he looked up at you. You had on one of his shirts and had on a pair of black panties. Your hair was slightly messy but he thought you looked beautiful as always. 

 "What did he mean about you lying? What don’t I know?“ You asked, running your hands up and down his chest, he visibly shivered and tried to keep his cool. Sighing and ignoring your question, he pulled you in for a kiss. You quickly kissed back and you tangled your fingers in his hair, softly tugging on the dark brown locks.

 "J-jungkook… Answer me..” You whispered after you pulled away to breathe. 

  He bit his lip, “(Y/N) please.." 

 "Answer me Jungkook.” He tried to go in for another kiss but you pulled away and got off of him. 

Quickly pulling on your jeans, you grabbed your things and walked over to the door. “Call me when you wanna actually give me some answers, and not use me for sex." 

 You closed the door behind you and went home, not speaking to Jungkook again until he called you later the next day.


letting his hyung greet the viewers, enjoy good music and bath under sun lamp light, what a nice boy

he even praised his hyung, atta boy

anonymous asked:

1 or 2 of angsty hcs with Alex summers pretty please ! 👼🏼

enjoy babe!

@phoenixejean @shayara @raypclmer @emmcfrxst @rax-writes @put-in-writing

alex + ‘why do you always have to be such an asshole’ + ‘if you’re going to keep running your mouth, i can think of a few ways to make you shut up’

You’re not sure why people like him so goddamn much. Maybe it’s his hair, that’s almost always perfectly messy. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, with a sense of confidence that’s larger than average. Or maybe it’s the way he seemingly has a permanent smirk on his face. Regardless of all of that, Alex Summers pretty much has the entire student body wrapped around his finger. Except for the staff - the teachers hate him, rightfully so. And how you found yourself in detention with him? That’s all his fault, thank you very much.

Alex used to be your friend. In fact, he used to be much more than just your friend. He used to sneak in through your windows on the weekends, and he used to buy you flowers. But all of that? You’re not sure what happened. Maybe it was the way his strict parents made him feel suffocated, or maybe it was just the people he started hanging out with. Regardless, you didn’t like who he had become.

But that was then, and this is now. And now? You’d rather be doing pretty much anything else than stacking books with him right now. It’s an hour into detention, and you’re ready to strangle the life out of him.

“I’m just saying, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.” You spit at him, as quietly as you can.

“Me?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You were the one who decided to yell at me in the middle of lunch.”

“You were the one who decided to trip that kid on purpose!” You hiss through your teeth, gripping the spine of a book. “I was being a good person and sticking up for him. Why do you always have to be such an asshole?”

Alex stops and breathes out a mock laugh, shaking his head in annoyance. He sets the book in his hand on the shelf and steps towards you, sizing you up.

“If you’re going to keep running your mouth like that, I can think of a few ways to make you shut up,” Alex says, voice eerily even.

You swallow hard and feign offense, ignoring the way his voice seemingly got lower as he said those words. Alex takes another step towards you as you try and get your hormones under control, willing yourself not to do anything stupid just because he knows what gets you going. His eyes drop to your lips for a brief second, before darting up to look at you again.

“In fact, if I can recall correctly, you definitely liked the ways I used to make you shut up.”

He’s licking his lips now, and looking at you like he’s a predator, and you’re his prey.

Fuck it. You never had good impulse control anyways.

Your hand fists his shirt demandingly, and you’re yanking him down to your level faster than he can process. The kiss is messy and the power play is fucking insane as his tongue slides against yours, his large hands gripping your waist. The second his tongue gains control he’s pressing you against the bookshelf, the punishment of detention the last thing on his mind. Your hands are in his hair, and he’s practically hauling you off the ground by how hard he’s grabbing your hips. His mouth leaves yours with a smack as he presses open mouthed kisses to your jaw, one of his hands moving to cover your mouth before it gets the two of you in trouble.

The second his fingers nudge against the lace and cotton of your panties, you let out a hard breath against his hand, your fingers curling around his wrist. His hand leaves your mouth, as he moves to lean his forehead against yours. It’s quiet as he freezes his hand, his eyes two shades darker.

“My place,” You mutter after what feels like a million years. “My place tonight.”

He just gives you his signature smirk and pulls back a fraction of an inch to brush a loose piece of hair out of your face.

“I’ll be there, princess.”

Small Start

A/N: Boku no Hero Academiya (Kirishima/Bakugou) -  28. “Did you know you look adorable when you’re being tickled?” - I’ve always thought mini-tickles were cute (lolol look at the Hinata-thing I reblogged). Result = Random bnha fic and I have no regrets.

Summary: When Bakugou arrives at school, sized like a tiny little pixie, things are turning out a lot funnier than he had expected. Well, not funny-funny, but in the end it’s him who laughs the most. 

Word Count: 1588

Bakugou panted as he hung from the wall, his tiny legs dangling beneath him. Clenching his teeth, he pulled himself up towards the window. He was gonna commit some murders. Murders! Those damn elementary school kids. How dare they attack him with their useless quirks? 

Bakugou was merely the size of a hand right now. Just because some random kid ran over to him:

“TAG!” and before he knew it after that single touch his world was huge and he was, well, this small. He! Bakugou Katsuki, minimized by some kid!

He refused to let anyone see him like this, but he also definitely could not skip class and have everyone advance with their theoretical skills while he would stay behind. Na-ah. Not gonna happen, and definitely not because of that stupid minimize-quirk kid. How long was he going to stay like this anyway? This was no joke!

After having blasted himself towards the school, he had hurried to climb the wall in order to avoid having to walk like this through the school and with dangers of getting squished, or worse, seen by others.

“Ah s-shit!” he cursed when he reached the window which was sadly closed. So far his plan to sneak in like a bug and… He raised his tiny eyebrows when he noticed Deku was already in class. Of course that loser came early like this. He was sitting at his desk, reading in that stupid notebook. Bakugou sighed. He didn’t want anyone to see him, but if someone was going to see him it’d better be loser-Deku since he wouldn’t have to feel any shame towards him anyway.

“Deku! Fucking Deku open up!” He banged the window, made tiny explosions and a whole scene until Deku finally noticed him. His bright sparkly eyes widened, as well did his mouth.

“Eh? Kacchan!?” He rushed towards the window, opened it up and watched how a pixie-sized Bakugou stepped inside.

“Not. A. Word. About this,” Bakugou warned, but apparently his size caused Deku to not take him seriously at all, and before he knew it he swept him off his feet. Literally.

“Hey! Wha- the fuck, let me go! Let go, I’ll kill you!” Bakugou protested when Deku lifted him by his collar to study him closer.

“You’re tiny,” Deku stated the obvious, and a devious huge finger suddenly poked his tummy. Bakugou blew out a whole lot of air and started a renewed string of curses:

“NAh! Damn hell stupid idiot I know I’m tiny! F-fucking let go of me! Don’t touch me!” He kicked his legs, the panic rising. Shit, if the others in class would arrive… If anyone would see him like this…

“Good moooorning!” Bakugou froze in Deku’s grip. Shit. Shit shit shit, noooo not.. not him! Anyone but him!

“Ah, good morning Kirishima,” Deku said casually, turning around with Bakugou still dangling between his forefinger and thumb.

“Hey, what’s that?” Kirishima already had his eyes on the hysterical mini-Bakugou in Deku’s hand, and Bakugou panicked and struggled even more.

“GAhh! Let go! Noooo!” he yelled when Deku simply held him up for Kirishima to see.

“It’s a pocket-sized Bakugou,” he said with a careless shrug. That fucking…!

“Oh! Ohoho! If it isn’t a tiny little blasty Mcsplode!” Kirishima said, and Bakugou tried to run for his life but the lively red head already took him from Deku and he ended up sprawled in his hand.

“Now how did you end up like this mister? Don’t tell me the mini-kid got you there?” Ack. He knew!? An elementary kid wasn’t supposed to have a reputation while all Bakugou was known for was ‘the kid who was captured by’–

“HA!” A ticklish shock pulled him back out of his thoughts, and he looked up in shock. Kirishima poked Bakugou’s tummy just like Deku had done, but then he wiggled his finger a little and Bakugou tensed up, his own tiny hands gripping Kirishima’s finger in an attempt to get him off. 

“No! Nohoho – wahait! Stop that don’t touch me!” Bakugou huffed, but a laugh suddenly came out of him and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Watch it, Kacchan’s ticklish Kirishima,” Deku warned carefully. Well he shouldn’t have! Fuck him! Bakugou turned his head and glared at Deku, raising a fist as big as a bread crumb and shouting:

“SHUT YOUR STUPI - ahahaah no! Nohoho shihihit!” he laughed when Kirishima tested Deku’s words by wiggling his finger against Bakugou’s tummy again. Blushing, Bakugou convulsed entirely and hiccupped, squeaky giggles mixing with his angry laughter as he was being tickled mercilessly by this evil giant. Uh oh, he was in big trouble.

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anonymous asked:

"I’ve been receiving all your freaking mail since you moved out and you keep getting weird gifts from your brother make it stop” AU

It was the horse head in Phil’s bed that finally made him snap.

Sure, it wasn’t a real horse head - just a plush toy horse head on a broomstick - and once his heart got started again, he could even see the humor in it. But for him, a senior SHIELD agent, to have an apartment that was that insecure? Despite some really freakin’ good remote security measures he’d installed?

It was time to track down this “Clint Barton” character. And … persuade … him to make this “Barney” person stand down.

With SHIELD’s resources - and the appropriate paperwork justifying the extracurricular expenditure, filled out in triplicate - Phil had an address in no time. One quick - commercial, and on his own dime - flight and rental car later, and he was standing in front of a YMCA in Waverly, Iowa.

“Clint? Yeah, sure. He’s teaching a kids’ class, over in the gym. Just look for the archery targets.” The volunteer on duty gave him a printed floor plan and a hearty “have a nice day!”

Coulson took off his suit jacket and settled down on a bleacher seat to watch the class. Clint Barton was a scruffy blond man in worn clothes who displayed endless patience with the handful of children launching arrows at straw bullseyes on easels. Phil found himself charmed even before the kids started clamoring for him to do “his special trick.”

“‘K, but remember, this is pro-level stuff, right? I could get in trouble with the Archer’s Union just for showin’ ya this.” The kids giggled. Clint slipped six arrows into the gaps between his fingers, lined up and drew, and in an instant six child-sized arrows embedded in one target were split down the shafts by his full-size ones.

When the shrieks of delight died down, Clint declared the class over and shooed them off to store their gear. Phil got up and sidled up to the man. “Nice form.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Clint replied. “Fed, right? You smell like a fed. What’s it gonna be this time? Duquesne? Chisolm? Look, I haven’t seen any’a the Carson’s crew in a loooooong time.”

“None of the above. I’ve got your old apartment in Queens. I’ve been getting some of your mail.” Phil produced a stack of letters from his jacket and handed them over.

“And you came all this way just to … aw, Barney, no.” Feet in battered Chuck Taylors scuffed the gym floor; Clint’s head dropped and he scrubbed a hand through his already terminally messy hair. “I ask what’s in that duffel over there, I ain’t gonna like the answer, am I?”

“Noticed that, did you? Funny. I’d’ve sworn you never looked my way.” He led Clint to the bleachers and unzipped the duffel.

“I got eyes in the back’a my head, y’might say - aaaggghh. Barney.” Clint clutched his temples as though in agony.

From the duffel Phil had produced a mason jar of what lab analysis determined to be alligator droppings; a bottle of Stolichnaya, which lab analysis determined to be liberally laced with MDMA; a tupperware container of hand-dried chanterelle mushroom slices, which lab analysis determined were liberally mixed with dried psilobyscin slices; a rubber chicken; a plastic pickle that yodeled; a gift certificate for ‘penis enlargement services’; and the aforementioned horse head on a stick.

“Please, please tell me he didn’t -” Clint’s voice trailed off into a moan and a wave of a hand at the last item.

“He did.” Phil nodded ruefully.

“Aw man. Can you like arrest him for any of this stuff? ‘Cause I’d love to see my brother’s face when he found out he pranked the bed’a Tha Man.”

Phil’s head tilted slightly and he grinned, deepening the smile lines around his eyes, Clint noticed.

“Theoretically, yeah. But for the most part it’s been no harm, no foul so far. Well, except for the stink bomb in the chicken.” Clint moaned again.”And contrary to the rumors around the office, I do have a sense of humor, and I dig a good Godfather reference as much as the next guy.”

Clint fell back a half-step, sized up the other man.

Decided he liked what he saw.

“‘K. Any chance I can maybe make it up to ya, a li’l bit? Since you come all this way. I could buy ya dinner at Waverly’s finest two-star restaurant. Or is there some Fed rule against takin’ meals from strange archers with stranger big brothers?”

“I’m not exactly a Fed, and no, if there were any such rule in place I would know about it, trust me,” Phil replied. “And as long as your finest two-star offers greasy cheeseburgers or pancakes, I’m in. Or greasy burgers and pancakes, even.”

“Done and done.” Clint stuck out a hand. “Clint Barton. World’s Greatest Archer.”

Phil took the offered hand, shook. “Phil Coulson. Agent of SHIELD.” At Clint’s befuddled look, he added, “Long story. Don’t get me started. Let’s just say I’ve devoted my life to making the world safe for pranksters.”

- perletwo


Joe let out a small grunt as another body was shoved into his.

The club was packed tonight, making it difficult to maneuver through the crowd without getting a foot stepped on, an elbow to the rib, or a full body slammed against your own. All he was trying to do was make it back to the table him and the boys had managed to grab, having disappeared to the bathroom briefly.

As the crowd shifted and surged with the music, Joe could just see the searching face of his boyfriend, who smiled in relief as their eyes locked on to one another, only interrupted as dancing bodies darted between it.

Seeing a body moving towards him from the corner of his eye, Joe stepped back quickly, trying to avoid the collision, only to have his back connect with a different body, one that shoved him back.

“Watch where you’re going!” An angry voice called over the loud music, and Joe turned around to apologize, shrinking back at the threatening look being sent his way.

“Sorry, mate.” He mumbled, unsure as to if the stranger could even hear.

“What was that?” The man asked, towering over Joe, his shoulders tensing up, two of his friends flanking him on either side.

“It was just an accident!” Joe tried to explain, hands held up in front of him. He wanted to step back, out of the man’s personal space, but the crowd had tightened around him, and the man was stepping closer, clearly sizing Joe up.

“You got this,” The friend said on the right, a sneer on his lips, “He’s tiny.”

“It’ll barely be a fight.” The one of the left said, chuckling darkly, “Just get it over with.”

Joe swallowed in slight fear, because the man in the middle was very much so larger than him, and obviously ready for a fight, something Joe did not want to be part of. But there was no way out of the situation, not with how packed the crowd was.

“Is there a problem here?” A familiar voice drawled, a warm and comforting hand placed on Joe’s lower back. He turned his head to see Jack standing beside him, his jaw tense as his blue eyes jumped to each man.

“Nothing that concerns you,” The stranger Joe had run into spat at Jack.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” The younger man smirked, his hand moving to slip into Joe’s, “Because you’re threatening my boyfriend. So I do believe this concerns me.”

The stranger stared over at Jack, quickly reassessing the situation, before giving a quick shake of his head, “Sod this. Let’s go.”

Joe let out a breath of relief as the three turned and disappeared into the crowd, his body leaning against Jack’s.

“You okay?” The younger man mumbled into his ear, squeezing Joe’s hand.


“Come on then,” Jack said, pulling Joe through the crowd and towards the table, their friends giving them a worried look.

“Everything alright?” Conor asked, leaning across the table to be heard over the music.

“Yup,” Jack nodded towards his brother, “Nothing to worry about.”

“This time,” Josh scoffed, sipping his drink, “Try to not get banned from this club, Jack.”

“No promises.” The younger Maynard grinned before turning his attention to Joe, who smiled over at him.

“You didn’t have to come save me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I was fine.”

“You were about two seconds away from being punched, Joe.”

“So I still had two seconds.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack shook his head, “Hopeless.”

Joe let out a small laugh, leaning in to press his lips against Jack’s in what was meant to be a quick kiss, but the younger man had other plans, his hand moving to the back of Joe’s neck as he deepened the kiss, the complaints from their friends going ignored.

“Thanks for saving me,” Joe mumbled after they broke apart, his breathing a little heavier.

“I’ll always come save you, babe.” Jack smiled.

“Good to know you’re overprotective.”

“I am not!”

“Yes you are,” Joe chuckled, brushing his lips against Jack’s swiftly, “But that’s okay. Nice knowing I have someone watching over me.”

“Not overprotective,” Jack muttered, pouting lightly.

“Keep denying it, babe,” Joe grinned, “But just know I appreciate it. And anyways, you’re hot when you’re defending me.”

“I’m always hot.”

“I’m trying to thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Jack laughed, pulling Joe in for another kiss, “You’ll have to make it up to me somehow.”

“I can make you breakfast tomorrow.”

“I was thinking something a little different…” Jack trailed off, his eyes darkening slightly.

“Of course you were,” Joe shook his head, “How about I pay you back when we get home, and then make breakfast in the morning too?”

“I think Joe and I are going to head out!” Jack announced to the table suddenly, pulling Joe out of the booth with him.

“Of course you are,” Conor laughed, “Have a good night boys!”

“Jack!” Joe spluttered as his boyfriend lead him towards the exit, an amused smile on his lips.

“I want to be thanked properly, Joe.” Jack winked over his shoulder.

“You’re horrible!”

“Say what you want, babe,” Jack commented as they emerged into the cool night air, his arm winding around Joe’s waist, “I still saved you. And you owe me.”

“Yes, you did.” Joe reached up to kiss Jack once more, “And I’ll make it up to you as soon as we get home.”

How’s It Hanging, Indiana?

Originally posted by marvelsdefenders

Fandom: MCU, Daredevil

Characters: Matt Murdock

Pairing: Reader X Matt Murdock

Notes/Warnings: …angsty? A bit? But also fluffy. And I’m sorry because this turned out considerably shorter than I wanted but I wanted to get it in queue before I went home for Christmas.

Word count: 763

Prompt: Imagine Matt Murdock is worried about archaeologist!reader away on her first trip but he also misses her and snuggles with one of her hoodies because it smells like her. Requested by @native-snowflake

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“Imagine, if you can, four things that have very different sizes. First, the entire universe. Second, the planet Earth. Third, the nucleus of an atom. Fourth, a superstring. The step in size from each of these things to the next is roughly the same, twenty powers of ten.”
     ―   Freeman Dyson   

His Drug - [BTS] Taehyung!Au

Originally posted by fairybcby

[A/N] I may or may not have written this while listening to ‘Spring Days’. 

Have you ever looked at someone and hated the fact that you love them so much that they practically get away with everything? That when they gave you that innocent puppy look, you were instantly nullified with whatever negative feelings you have and end up forgiving them, when you had very right not to?

It’s just that every time you see them, you were overwhelmed with this familiar feeling of fuzziness, warmth and comfort that you yourself couldn’t explain. Feelings you can’t fight.

How much you love them. How much you want them. How much you need them.

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