center barricade

camping out for twenty one pilots: a guide

hi! i’ve camped out for six of the seven twenty one pilots shows i’ve been to (ironically the one I didn’t camp out for was the last one), totaling 160 hours spent camping. for my first time camping i was twentieth in line, and for my most recent one, in new york, i was first. being first in line, it fell to me to organize the entire line for that show, so it was a good opportunity to master the practice of lining up. i’ve camped for shows in wisconsin, ohio, new york, and even for their saturday night live performance. i don’t mean to state this in a boastful way- i’ve gotten a few asks about camping out and figured i would put this experience to good use in making a guide for it. if you want to prepare for an upcoming show, or understand the line at your past show better, give it a read. i incorporated all of my experiences, my friends’ experiences, and things i’ve seen online (through an objective scope) into this guide, because no two shows have been the same, in terms of lining up. for the most part, camping comes down to luck: luck with the venue. it’s explained in detail under the readmore.

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Finish Line

(gif is mine)

Pairing: Racer!Steve Rogers x Reader (AU)

Summary: Two time Formula One champion Steve Rogers faced one of his worst fears during his race in Austin, TX.

A/N: I dont know what this is, okay, this had been stuck in my head for days ever since I found out that Sebastian Vettel is having a kid and ahhhhh I just really need to get it out of my system. Sorry for so many racing terms I chuck in there. 

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Hartford, Connecticut 8/29/2017 was my 8th Green Day show this year and 11th show overall. It was a wild day that started with camping out from 3am and not even knowing if I would have a ticket by doors and ended with me on the barricade dead center in front of Billie Joe Armstrong. I didn’t even know it at the time,because I was so fascinated by the confetti at the end of the show, but Billie Joe saw me on the barricade and smiled at me. Thanks to some other awesome people who were taking photos, especially @jeffmega who got the third one, I have that moment captured forever.
Matty Healy Stops Concert to Talk to Fan

How Matty Healy Changed My Life-

Matty read this! Thank you all so much for everything you’ve done and the kind words. It’s only been a few days since I posted this anecdote and we’ve already managed to get the man to read it. Endless love to you all…

A lot of you want to contact me, so you can reach me on Twitter: @jordynhalpern

Please read before watching…

I would like to preface this by stating that I attended The 1975 concert at the House of Blues in Boston on December 6th of 2014 (last night as I write this). It was a rather tragic show, not musically, but undoubtedly mentally draining for Matty. I could tell from the moment “The City” started to play that he wasn’t his normal quirky self, but a soul distracted, and no one could pinpoint as to what the genesis was for his pain. He probably misses home immensely, but we have no idea what’s going on in this poor boy’s life. It hurts me that Matty hurts, and it haunts me that I can’t help to change it.

Rewind to June 25, 2014. My mother, Marcy, a 54 year old poisoned by cancer, lay senseless in her hospital bed installed in our temporary home. For the prior two years I had slowly watched my mother deteriorate as the illness ate her alive. At 16, I became an adult, and was forced into dealing with so many aspects of life most don’t face until they’ve got a job and family of their own. Be that as it may, that morning, I was told by a social worker that my mother was going to die that day. I had no choice but to accept my mum’s fate, and my unpredictable future. A nurse notified me that hearing is the last sense to leave the body, so I’d be able to utter everything I needed to my mom regardless if she could express a response. Talking to a practically lifeless body is strange despite the fact that they can hear you, and I don’t want to have to do so again. Amongst my collection of “I love yous” and tears inevitably falling, I did ask her to make a promise with me: she would be with me at every concert. The absolute only reason I am alive is due to music. It’s my therapy and muse. I’d easily commit suicide if music wasn’t a vital component to my life. There was so much I still wanted to say, but I couldn’t look at my mother anymore. I hope none of you ever have to look at someone you love on the brink of death, and I especially hope it’s not your mother. I don’t remember much of that day nor did I want to, but I do recall the fact that I was in my room sitting on my bed criss-crossed legged, and, of course, listening to music. I don’t know the time exactly, I believe it was at some point in the afternoon since the sun was shining through my window which it only did at around 1 PM, but my door swung open. No one ever goes in my room, and I knew simply in that instant my mum had died. I was left parentless since my ass of a father left when I was a baby. I was forced to move in with family that I’ve seen so little, that I could count on one hand the amount of times we’ve encountered each other. I don’t remember anything that happened after that. The only other memory I can recollect is sitting in silence for a few minutes. I’d say it took approximately five for me to actually feel anything, and unfortunately, it felt like like someone gutted a hole right through my stomach. Those five minutes were just a void. I’d been awfully depressed, exceedingly enraged at the world, and radically happy, but I’ve never felt void. It’s like I had forgotten how to feel. It wasn’t until I had glanced back down to my laptop screen that I learned what emotions were again. My following tears weren’t 100% a result of pain, but contentment as I knew my mom passed in the instant that she did for a reason. On my computer screen read “The City - The 1975” which was (and still is) easily my favorite song. My mother always understood my undying love for music, and the comfort it cushioned me with. She wouldn’t want me to fall into a deeper depression because of her, but would want me to seize every opportunity I can grasp. There is no good condition for someone loved to pass away in, however there are safety nets that may help ease the burning wounds erupting in one’s heart. I know my mother died to my favorite song and band for a reason as they make me feel free. She wanted her soul to be freed of illness just as I wanted my life to be free. It’s the small elements that cling to one’s memory that subdue the pain. My mom died when there was 1:20 left in the song. I don’t know why I remember this aspect, but maybe I’m meant to and I’ll figure it out at some time. Regardless, I now feel as if I have to listen to the city every single day. It’s a connection I share with my mother in which I know she’s omnipresent, an infinite being there at my side. I adore The 1975 and had listened to them probably about about a year or slightly more before to my mother’s death. Yet, for some reason I had never listened to “Is there Somebody Who Can Watch You.” Ironically, it’s now a staple in my music library, but I never fancied ballads or songs with a slower tempo so I always seemed to skip it. I took my first listen the night my mother died, and have never related to a song more. It truly felt like my mother was playing this for me as if to ask me if there was someone to watch me? Who would love me? I know she’s in her home, and I know she’s got me, and because of The 1975, I know my mom will always be in my heart when their music plays. Their music has become more than any melody that I praise in admiration, but a part of my persona. Music tastes change but whether I’m 17 or 107, I’ll always have an emotional attachment to The 1975. 

December 6, 2014- The 1975 concert in Boston, Massachusetts. I knew I wanted to let Matty and the rest of the band know how thankful I am for their influence, but I wasn’t sure how to approach this. The 1975 are rapidly gaining fame, and I knew if I didn’t make an outlandish sign that was quite blunt at this show, I may never get to do so again. The days of their intimate shows are limited, and I wanted to seize my opportunity as my mother would’ve desired. I brought a small sign saying “My mom died as The City played. Thank u 4 making her last moments special.” I knew I was getting barricade as I got to the venue at 4am, so I wasn’t concerned about him not seeing it. Eventually, I took my spot on the center-right barricade. If anyone has seen a The 1975 show, I was directly in front of the amp Matty tends to sit/ stand on. I did not want to hold my sign up as the show began as I wanted to experience the moment and give the band the respect they deserve. Personally, I wouldn’t want such a blatant, morbid phrase to be the first view of the crowd in a strange city if I was performing. I adored the first few songs as they were flawlessly executed by these musical masters. At one point, before introducing “Me,” the lights slightly brightened as Matty began to make a speech. He started on the left side and gradually wandered toward the right as he thanked the crowd and ran his fingers through his curls. As he approached, I held up my sign at which point I saw him look at, but he did not read. Matty ultimately stood on the amp in front of me and asked the crowd if they’ve been to a The 1975 show previously. As the crowd cheered he peered down and read my now tattered sign. His demeanor immediately changed as he quizzically bit his lip and looked back at his bandmates. I had not expected Matty to do more than blow me a kiss, however, what he did stunned me. Matty sighed, put his microphone down, and looked directly at me. He told me he loved me, that he was so sorry I had lost my mum, and asked if I was doing okay a probable 6 or 7 times. We exchanged other words, but I’d like to keep them private. I was astounded that a man I had never met before cared enough about me to ask if I was feeling well. He didn’t even need to express words as his face exhibited pure pain and sympathy. As Matty resumed the show, Ross stared at me for awhile, and George seemed to have gotten a hint as his facial expression drastically changed as Matty came over to him just after. The family I live with won’t tell me “I love you” but this beautiful man would say it 1,000 times if I asked him too.

I do wish Matty would have come out after the show as I would have loved to fully express my thanks. I wanted to have him write out “The City”  or something inspirational so I could get it tattooed on my upper left rib to be close to my heart. However, Matty seemed distraught all night and I would not want him to have met fans in that condition regardless. I wish I could take his pain away as such an alluring human does not deserve that depression. His breakdown was hauntingly beautiful as its rawness emanated through the venue. I could physically feel his passion inside me building up that it was almost painful. No event has ever given me such a drive to be myself and attain my desires.

Matty Healy is the definition of altruism. He asked me how I was feeling, and the least I can do is ask the same for him. I want Matty to be the healthy, spunky boy that dances like a freak across the stage as I saw in September. This December show was different as it was not fun and quirky, but disturbing and captivating. I miss Matty more than anything, and I can only hope that after two failed attempts of trying to meet him, my third is a success one day. I’m forever grateful that I experienced a side of Matty not many are able to see.

Matty is the epitome of an old soul, and I can’t thank him enough for what he has done for me. I love you, Matty, so much more than you will ever know. xx - Jordyn

I did not take the video. I’m lucky enough to have found a recording someone had made on Youtube. Link to the full original video:

If you’ve read this far, please help me get Matty to see this.

A Change In Pressure || Matty Healy Oneshot
Word Count: 4,407
Warnings: Drama, alcohol.
Summary: “Love your stories. Could you do one where Matty and his girlfriend break up because of long distance and they haven’t talked in like a month but she decided to go to one of their concerts to surprise him (where she stood in line all day just to be front row).”
Authors Note: I turned this prompt into a lot of angst, but beautiful angst with emotion and all that jazz. I really loved writing this piece. I hope the anon who requested this and all who read it enjoy how it turned out. Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!  

“Hey, aren’t you {Y/N}, Matty’s ex?”

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make me choose
@grandillos asked: broadway barricade (2014 revival) or movie barricade?

“Here is the thing about equality - everyone’s equal when they’re dead. Take your place. Take your chance. Vive le France.”

Semper Fi (Merle x OC fic)

This was suppose to be a short, little, fun, and smutty drabble. It grew to 8600 words and only slightly smutty. 

Semper Fi

She’s brought to Woodbury, bloodied, starving, and half-out of her mind with fever. But they treat her, feed her, and within two weeks, she’s placed on guard rotation. That’s when she meets him, the one who dragged her half-dead ass out of the woods. Truth be told, she can’t believe that someone like Merle Dixon would give enough of a shit about anyone to carry them two feet, let alone the two miles to Woodbury.

It’s a summer afternoon in Georgia and they’re both pacing the length of the wall, drenched in sweat and ill-tempered. After half an hour of the walking and no sign of walkers below them, they take up a relaxed stance towards the center of the barricade. A couple minutes pass and Merle leans over the side and spits. He must have caught the look on her face.


             “That’s disgusting,” she states simply.

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Request: Ok so yn goes to a Gerard Way show and is waiting outside for like hours during which Gerard tweets “This room has good energy” (which he actually did tweet a few days ago) and then during the show Gerard (wearing his usual black suit and pink tie and stuff) keeps looking/making eye contact and then in between songs he talks to the crowd about how he feels a special presence tonight and then after the show security finds yn and says to go to the tour bus out back so then after a bit of hesitating outside the bus yn knocks and Gerard opens the door and yn is all in shock n stuff and G is super friendly and nice and cute and great (like “come sit closer to me don’t be shy”) then a LOT of dirty smut ensues and then afterwards Gerard says how he feels as though yn is really special and how he feels they should keep in close touch and then he gives her his number the end and please don’t specify age or anything

I scrolled mindlessly through social media as I leaned against the building. Today was finally the day I would get to see Gerard Way live. I never got to see My Chemical Romance play, so I was excited to get the chance to get tickets for his solo tour. 

I refreshed Gerard’s Twitter page, curious if he would post anything about tonight’s show. A picture popped up, him at the airport with a group of fans surrounding him, holding up welcome signs. I favorited it, feeling a pang of jealousy towards the girls that were able to greet him at the airport. 

A few hours later and the line behind me was beginning to grow, hoards of fans stretching all the way down the street. I was thankful I got here early, there was only a few people in front of me so I was confident I would end up in the front row.  Butterflies erupted in my stomach thinking about being that close to him. 

My phone buzzed angrily in my pocket, breaking me out of my trance. I unlocked it and slid down the notification bar, smiling when I saw it was from Gerard tweeting.

This room has good energy.

Despite how simple it was, the tweet still made me smile, happy to know he had a good feeling about the show tonight. 

It felt like forever until it hit 7:30, all the energy returning back to the crowd as security opened the doors. People were pushing and shoving like crazy as we flooded through the doors, sprinting towards the front barricades. I secured a spot in the front near the center, holding onto the barricade so no one could squeeze in front of me. 

The opening act came and went, they were good but you could tell the crowd just wanted to see Gerard already. The lights dimmed suddenly, earning a few eager screams and cheers in the audience. The chants got even louder when everyone could see the outline of Gerard as he entered the stage. 

A spotlight turned on, illuminating the man in the black suit and pink tie. The crowd went nuts. I could make out the shy smile and faint blush on his cheeks from where I was standing. 

“This song’s called Millions.”

Compared to most concerts I’ve been to, Gerard’s was very relaxed and mellow. sure, their were a few over eager fans who were trying to shoulder their way to the front, but most people simply listened to the music. No mosh pits were a relief to me. Being swarmed by people and trying to avoid getting stomped on was not my idea of how I wanted to spend a concert.

I noticed multiple times throughout the night that Gerard was looking at me. Not around me or just glancing towards this side of the crowd, but directly at me. I dismissed it, deciding that I was being stupid and that there was no way in hell he would be able to spot me individually in this crowd.

Then again, the venue wasn’t that large and the barricades were fairly close to the stage. Maybe he could see me.

Gerard walked towards the back of the stage as he finished another song, picking up his water that he kept near the drum kit and taking a large drink. He returned to the crowd, going on a mini rant about body positivity and mental illness. 

“So yeah, just find someone to talk to, you’re not weird or crazy, just need a little help. Thank you guys for coming out tonight. You’ve all been so sweet.”

The crowd roared in response, a few people shouting “We love you!”

“So, so sweet. Very good vibes from you guys. In fact, I feel a special presence tonight!” 

Boom. More eye contact. I gulped, not daring to break the contact. He smiled, making it feel like it was more towards me then the crowd. Then he winked, making my knees buckle slightly. 

“This next song is called Drugstore Perfume.”

When the concert was done, Gerard thanked the crowd again for showing up and wished everyone a safe ride home. People began to hurry out of the venue, hoping to beat any traffic in the parking lot. I took a few minutes to gt one last picture, a bad idea that led me stuck in the back of the crowd. Before I could walk through the door, I felt a hard grip on my forearm.

“Where you in the front row on the left side?” It was a security guard, the same who stood right next to me on the other side of the barricade.

“Yeah…why?” I asked anxiously. I knew some venues were strict on pictures and I hoped they weren’t gonna hassle me over it.

“Mr. Way wants you to meet him at his bus,” he said bluntly. I could tell by the casual way he said it, this wasn’t his first time delivering messages from rock stars to fans.

“Why?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know, his manager just sent me to find you.”

“Oh okay,” I stammered in response.

“Follow me, you’ll need an escort to get back there.” I simply nodded, following him through the back door and out into the parking lot. “There it is,” he instructed, nodding his head towards the bus a few feet in front of us.

“Thank you,” I said meekly as he walked back into the venue. I did a few laps around the bus, not sure what to do. I wasn’t stupid, I knew why singers called a fan back to their bus or hotel. I never thought Gerard was the groupie type. Maybe it was a new habit for him after his divorce. After another lap, I made up my mind. This was Gerard Way we we’re talking about. My idol ever since I first heard My Chemical Romance. I couldn’t pass this opportunity up, because I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Fuck it.

I knocked on the door, all my doubts flooding back when I heard the door unlock from the other side. The door swung open and there he was. He still had is suit and tie on it, the collar of his button up was damp from sweat and the water he splashed on his face in between songs. His hair was tousled in all directions and some strands clung tightly on his forehead. His face looked a little flushed and tired, but he still wore a happy smile on his face. 


“Hi,” I responded shyly, brushing some hair out of my face. 

“Please come in,” he said kindly, stepping aside to let me through. I walked in and awkwardly sat down on the couch, trying to come up with something to say. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh sure, do you have water?”

He nodded, opening up the mini fridge and tossing me a bottled water. He sat down on the other side of the couch, close enough to make my heart race but far away enough to give us both some space. 

“What’s your name?”


“It’s great to meet you, Y/N. I’m Gerard,” he smiled, offering me his hand.

“I know,” I blurted out, making us both chuckle as we shook hands. 

“Your hands are so soft,” I thought out load, internally cringing at how creepy that sounded. But he didn’t seem to pick up on it, smiling a little brighter and looking down at his hands.

“Thank you! I’ve started using lotion again lately so i’m glad it’s paying off,” he chuckled. 

Both of us began to loosen up, getting more comfortable and talking about our lives. Gerard talked briefly about his old band, why they broke up and how he was relieved that they were all on good terms even if they don’t see each other as much. His eyes lightened when he talked about Bandit, excitedly talking about her interest, how she already loves to draw, and even admitted he got teary eyed when he dropped her off on her first day of school. 

“She sounds amazing,” I smiled, watching him with amusement.

“She is. I never thought I would have kids, especially one as amazing as her. You can sit closer to me, don’t be shy,” he said comfortingly, gesturing to the space right next to him. I gulped slightly but obliged, scooting closer until our sides were touching.”You’re really pretty,” he said suddenly, his arm draping over my shoulders.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” I laughed, trying to the nerves inside me spiking and the butterflies in y stomach. 

“No really! I mean it. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen on this tour. And I’ve been all over the globe.” He was slowly leaning in, his lips inching closer and closer to mine. I filled the space in between us, lunging forward a little too eagerly and bumping our noses in the process.

He giggled, rubbing his nose with his palm before brushing our lips together again. His lips were as soft as his hands, which were now snaking up my waist to the hem of my shirt.

“So beautiful,” he purred into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I moved one hand to the back of his head, pushing him back down to my mouth, while the other ran up and down his chest. My fingers curled around his signature pink tie, undoing the loose knot and pulling it off his neck. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the floor, along with my shirt that he peeled off me.

He pulls lightly on the hair on the nape of my neck, my head falling back as he claims my jaw with his lips and tongue, tracing intricate patters on the sensitive skin.

“A little eager?” I ask him breathlessly as I feel him rut against me, my eyes rolling back when his teeth tug at the sensitive skin of my throat.

“You have no idea,” he growls, chest heaving and breathing constricted.

“I beg to differ.” I melt against his chest, tugging on his neck as I leaned back on the couch, my lips incapable of leaving his after getting a taste of him. He felt like the breath of fresh air I’ve been trying to inhale for three years. I honestly lost hope in ever meeting my idol, let alone hooking up with him in his tour bus. Life is strange.

He hovered over me, stripping us both bare to our bones. It felt natural to me, the weight of his body on top of mine as his hands explored the curves of my waist, his lips tasting the sweat beading on my skin, his eyes staring into mine, as if he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life, or ever will again.

I trailed my fingertips down his arms, his muscles lightly defined. Hot puffs of air caressed my cheek as his breathing picked up amidst haphazard kisses left along my jaw, his movements rushed and so fucking desperate. My heart swells as he tries to tell me how much he wants me, needs me, his words escaping as unintelligible pleas permanently tattooing themselves into my skin.

“I’ want you so bad. ever since I spotted you in the crowd, I wanted you,” he growls with sudden clarity, his hard on leaving hot smears of precum dangerously close to your sex, “You’re so gorgeous babe.”

I dug my nails into his broad shoulders as he continued his sweet talk, adding promises of next time when we’ll have more time, how hot I would like riding him or how he bets I taste delicious.

He groaned as he pulled my hips flush against his sinfully hard length and he’s much larger than I considered possible, sliding teasingly along my slit as if to prove his point.

“How you’re already so wet for me, so ready for me to just take you,” he murmurs upon coating his cock in my slick slowly, taking far too much pleasure in how twitchy I was becoming underneath him, all because of him.

He arches himself back slightly, ghosting his palm between our sticky bodies before running his hand over his swollen tip drenched in my juices, my lips parting in mild shock when he slips his fingers in his pink mouth and sucks them clean, savoring the flavour. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet.”

I whined, actually whining when Gerard hovers over me as he bites his bottom lip with an unholy grin and ruts his cock forcefully against my sensitive clit with shallow thrusts of his practiced hips.

“I can’t…shit. I need-.”

He finally gives in to my please and pushes the head of his cock through my throbbing entrance. He hisses, falling into the crook of my neck while he inches his way inside of me.

“I’ve,.. fuck,” Gerard moans as I latch onto his damp hair and cradle his head against me, wrapping my legs around his waist and pushing him into me until i’m at his base. “Sh-Shit, oh my god.”

“I know, f-feels so good,” I moan into his cheek, my hands trembling where they cling to his sweaty back.

“So tight,” he whispers upon bringing his face level with mine, forehead resting on my temple while lips plant sloppy kiss on whatever skin he can get a hold of. He adjusts the angle of his hips and grinds against your clit in tight circles.

I can tell he’s nearly there when his thrusts start to come in faster, sloppier motions, the temperature rising exponentially on his pale skin and all around me as he rushes to capture my mouth with his. His teeth graze my worn lips, his brows furrowing and hands fisting the cushions with incredible force as I feel the flood of his come coat my walls again and again.

I follow behind him, moaning into his mouth as my orgasm takes over and violently shakes through my body. His body collapses on top of my, his head falling onto my sweaty chest. My fingers weave through his hair, our chest rises and falling in unison.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he confesses. “The original plan was to ask you out, go on a few dates before we do anything. I guess I just got carried away,” he chuckled. I kissed the top of his head in reassurance, my rapid breathing forbidding me to speak.

“I don’t want to sound weird but…you’re special Y/N. I can tell, I knew as soon as our eyes met tonight. I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Can we keep in touch?”

I nodded my head eagerly, causing a grin to form on his face. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms. He reached forward and grabbed his sketchbook, tearing out a page before scribbling onto it.

“Here’s my number, give me a call soon.”

“I will,” I promised, giving his lips one last peck before beginning the hunt for my clothes.

Talk to me about Hufflepuffs in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hufflepuffs who value solidarity over acts of brazen courage, Hufflepuffs who have spent all year drawing together, forming a unified front and closing ranks around whichever little kid was feeling scared, because they’re not heroes and they never will be but they will die before they leave one of their own to face this by themselves.

(Hufflepuffs who sneer and hiss when they learn Severus Snape has been awarded a posthumous Order of Merlin–because they remember only too well that he bullied their children, insulted the most vulnerable people in his classes, struck at the weaknesses of those he was supposed to be building up, and nothing he did can make up for that betrayal of trust, that unfairness. Hufflepuffs who will never, ever forgive him.)

Hufflepuffs who have been resolutely learning healing spells and potions over the course of the year out of necessity, who can whip up a blood-replenishing potion or essence of dittany in their sleep by now, setting up triage centers in barricaded classrooms while the school is falling apart around them and keeping people on their feet through sheer willpower because this is what they are.

Hufflepuffs organizing evac teams in the blink of an eye, pairing shivering first-second-third-years with fourth and fifth year guides, giving the middling students something useful to do because they know the value of having something to do that’s practical, that helps, and keeping the little ones calm and together is important. Hufflepuffs who may not understand suicidal bravery but they understand responsibility, they understand duty. Hufflepuffs ignoring House lines because children are dying, and whether they’re in green or blue or red doesn’t matter, the Carrows and their ilk will never harm another helpless child. 

Hufflepuffs who have been preparing for this eventuality because they are not built to go out in a blaze of glory, they are not duellers, they are not even healers, but they’ll be damned if they aren’t defenders, and no one is getting past them while they’re breathing.

Hufflepuffs who are duellers.

Undying loyalty. Infinite determination. And above all, patience.

Hufflepuffs who aren’t stupid, who realize that bold acts of defiance only end with the Carrows torturing the little ones to send a message to the perpetrators, who realize that such acts are only making others more afraid. Who have chosen, until now, to fight back in smaller ways. Who understand the impact of a quiet word in the hallway, an elbow squeezed reassuringly at dinner, a hot meal snuck from the kitchen because it’s okay if you’re too scared to go to dinner, it’s okay if you can’t see the Carrows again so soon after what they did to you, you’re safe here, we’ll look after you. You don’t have to be brave. You don’t have to be strong. You’re only a child.

Hufflepuffs who are done biding their time. Hufflepuffs with fire in their eyes cutting down Death Eaters and Greyback’s minions without pausing because they are not Gryffindors, they feel no guilt or angst about this, they do not feel a need to hold themselves to an honor system for the sake of scum like this. You have tortured and killed our children. You will die for it. That is not a threat.

Hufflepuffs who promised their little ones that they wouldn’t let anything happen to them. And Hufflepuffs may not have much to brag about, but they always keep their promises.

1039-smooth  asked:

Dude so has the concert? It mustve been awesome right?!! What time do you think i should i go get in line at? The concerts this friday and im freaking out bc its gonna be raining akskfjfj sorry for being annoying im really fricking anxious

ur not annoying at all!!!!! hmmm it really depends on the venue tbh, but i showed up at 5 am and i barely got barricade……my venue didn’t have a catwalk though, and it was a rlly small pit and VIP all took the center barricade spots, but they might not at ur show, yk?