you have no idea how much of a pathetic fan boy i am of this show

I Don’t Even Know Your Name: Part One

Request: Can you do a request where y/n is a singer and she isn’t that famous but Shawn is like enamored by her and he sorta brings her to fame and she’s super shy and idk fluffy ending with some fluffy kisses???? 

A/N: At first this was meant to be just one imagine, but the plot that I came up with in my head is actually more lengthy than I planned. So I decided to make this into a series! 

Part Two 


Shawn watched the clock as he held his phone in his hands, bouncing his knee up and down. Time was ticking slower the more he could feel his anticipation grow. He’s been waiting for this the whole day. The possibility of miscalculating time zones constantly ran through his mind, but he made sure his math wasn’t even off by a minute. Her tweet did, in fact, say seven that night sharp and he was only five hours behind.

His phone suddenly interrupted the silence with a loud buzz, followed by a ding. Quickly clicking on the notification, he felt an immense amount of relief to see her face taking up the whole phone screen. She was obviously dressed for comfort with an oversized hoodie and her hair out of the way. A guitar rested on her lap, her body leaning over it as she scrolled through the comments.

“Good afternoon, well night,” she laughed. He watched as she gestured towards to what looked like her bedroom window. It was pitch black outside already. “Or morning. Depends where you are.”

Afternoon, Shawn thought to himself.

If only the whole world knew how much he was infatuated with her. At first, she was just one of those small singers that he would see when he scrolled through Instagram, but there was something about her that had caught his eye. Maybe it was the way she put her own twist on everything she did or the cute little wrinkle she would get whenever she scrunched up her face while singing a certain part. There were a million things.

“Good news, I’ve actually been writing a whole lot. I just have to start recording. It’s gonna take forever, but you guys are gonna like it.” She turned the camera towards a little corner in her room. “The next few weeks are gonna be spent right over there.” A microphone along with a whole set up consisting of a laptop and other equipment sat on a desk. “It’s my little makeshift recording studio.”

Shawn couldn’t imagine trying to record a song all by himself. There were so many technical things that went into it, but she did it all on her own. No record labels, no assistance, no nothing. It was just her, which was another thing he found captivating.

Her fingers gently strummed the strings, playing a soft chord. Shawn tried to figure out what tune she was humming, but he had no luck.

“I’ve been listening to The Neighborhood so much lately, so here’s a little taste of their song called The Beach,” she said repositioning herself.

If I told you that I loved you
Tell me, what would you say?
If I told you that I hated you
Would you go away?
Now I need your help with everything that I do
I don’t want to lie, I’ve been relying on you

All the stress that he carried on his shoulders melted away as soon as she started singing. There had always been something different about her voice that hit him like no other. Maybe it was how smooth it was, or the little rasp that would come out every once in awhile. He had never heard a voice quite like hers.

Fallin’ again, I need a pick-me-up
I’ve been callin’ you friend, I might need to give it up

I’m sick and I’m tired too
I can admit, I am not fireproof
I feel it burning me
I feel it burning you
I hope I don’t murder me
I hope I don’t burden you
If I do, I do

Her strumming had gotten louder, and so did her voice. Her eyes were closed with her eyebrows drawn close together, showing that little wrinkle he oh so loved. He could tell the chorus meant a lot to her and it worried him because there had to be a reason why. Judging by the lyrics, it couldn’t be a good one.

If I meet you in the middle maybe we could agree
You make me feel little how you’re looking at me
And you can throw me shade, all it does is just cool me off
First it just threw me off, now I’m just moving on

She couldn’t hide the smile that had etched onto her face as she sang the second verse, which told him that whatever caused the pain in the chorus was definitely gone now. Shawn started to feel himself smile along with her.

She finished the song with a small hum and opened her eyes again. Typically, her live streams started with a song that she picked out and one more that the viewers would request. Some days it would just be her messing around while answering questions. Today just happened to be the lucky day that she did both.

“What did I have for breakfast? Very strange question, but I had a parfait. I’m sorry if you were expecting pancakes or something,” she giggled.

“What’s my opinion on brown eyes? One hundred percent the most underrated eye color in the world. All the time I see brown-eyed people try to cover it up, and become really self-conscious along the way. It isn’t really such a big issue now, but I remember seeing it all the time back then and I was absolutely baffled by it. Sure, brown is the most common, but they’re definitely the most diverse in my opinion. There are so many shades!”

Shawn could feel his cheeks flush at the mention of even the tiniest relation to him. He never really thought about his own eye color until then. It was only a little part of him, but somehow she had put so much more meaning into it. It was a gift of hers, finding the simplest of things and making it sound like so much more, that is. It was one of the things that made her such a great songwriter.

“What do you think of Shawn Mendes?”

The mention of his name, more like the sound of her voice saying it, snapped him out of his thoughts, immediately putting him on edge. It felt like everything stopped and the only things that were moving were his heartbeat, that alarmingly pumped faster, and his leg that wouldn’t stop shaking. It was pathetic how much of an effect she had on him. An effect that she had even though she had never spoken to him.

“Where do I even begin?” she beamed, putting her hands up to her cheeks. A lame attempt to try and hide her heated face. “I’m not really one to listen to pop music that often, but his music is so good. I don’t know how he does it, a genius right there. Go listen to his new album if you haven’t already.”

Now he was the one who was blushing mad. Shawn was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe or how to do anything in fact. She listened to his music, gushed about it in fact. And there she sat, oblivious to the fact that the very person who she was talking about was watching her.

The connection lagged a little as she continued on, “Looks like you guys want me to cover him, which I’m totally down with.” Shawn couldn’t even think at this point. Now she was going to sing his song. The lyrics that he wrote. The chords that he recorded.

“Here’s I Don’t Even Know Your Name because it’s one of my favorites,” she smiled at the camera, which totally brought him back down to Earth. His heart fluttered when she started to sing again.

He remembered writing Handwritten, more specifically that song. When he finally came up with lyrics to the melody that he had been working on for so long, he was so proud of something that had turned out to be so good.

But it sounded even better when she sang it. She added something to the song that he couldn’t describe. He was able to pick out the way she added a soft high note in one line of the chorus and changed the order of some notes. Shawn didn’t know how she did it all so easily, but it was brilliant.

Even long after the live stream ended, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. One of her fans had recorded it and posted it on the internet so he could rewatch it anytime he wanted. And boy he did. He listened to it in the shower, the car, everywhere really.

Even backstage.

The show wasn’t supposed to start until five hours later and he didn’t have anything else to do. Soundcheck was already done and the Q&A wasn’t for a long time, so here he was. Listening to her again.

“Dude, I’m seriously starting to think you’re in love with her,” Geoff joked from the couch opposite of him. Shawn was laying down on the couch, balancing his laptop on his chest while he binge watched more of her covers.

Matt let out a laugh from behind him, “He probably is.” Rolling his eyes, he sat up and looked at the both of them.

“You don’t understand. She’s absolutely am—”

“Amazing, we know,” the two boys finished for him.

“And that she deserves more recognition and that she’s an amazing writer and….” he took a deep breath, “she’s really cute.” Shawn watched him with his eyebrows raised as he ticked off every statement with a finger on his hand.

“And don’t forget that she listens to your music!” Matt jumped in, ruffling his already messed up hair. “You know, you should give her a little shout out or something on Twitter. It’s pretty obvious how good she is, and I don’t think you’ll stop rambling about her until you do.”

Shawn chuckled at the last bit, flicking the back of Matt’s snap back off his head as he stood up and stretched. Needing a change of scenery, well walls, he shuffled towards the bathroom and leaned his hands on the counter. Matt’s words were still ringing in his ears, and Shawn had no idea how the idea didn’t come to him in the first place. It would definitely help her out, and that’s all it took for him to whip out his phone.

He quickly opened Twitter and as he hovered his thumb over the keyboard, he froze. What was he supposed to say? There were so many things about her. One hundred forty characters weren’t enough.

The next five minutes were spent typing a sentence or two out, but reading it over and erasing it. He didn’t want to say a simple “check this girl out, she’s really good” kind of thing. She was more than good. But he didn’t want to write too much. Everyone would probably think he was desperate, or something else the media can come up with.

It completely confused him why he was having such a hard time. He always knew what to say. Words easily rolled off his tongue.

Stop overthinking it, he thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. It shouldn’t be this hard. A minute passed when he felt his thumbs move on their own. He read the sentences over and over. Doubt started to cloud his thinking again. “You know what? Fuck it,” Shawn seethed and he pushed the submit button.

There was no going back now. Millions of people were reading it now, and he hoped she was too.

Poison (Ramsay Bolton x Reader songfic)

Okay, seriously, Ramsay is his own warning. If you’re triggered by violence, control freakiness, etc, this is not the fic for you.

Better to read it on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11566635

X~ Your cruel device,
Your blood like ice. ~X

Ramsay Snow was the subject of many false assumptions, but perhaps the most absurd of these assumptions was that he was incapable of love. Ramsay loved a great many things. He loved sex, hunting, torture, drinking…but most of all, he loved his girls. Yes, yes, his infamous dogs– the Bastard’s bitches. They were his true loves, his most prized possessions. His girls were solid and steadfast– simple creatures, yet smarter than any man he knew. Everyone who knew Ramsay knew how much he loved his dogs, and most had the good sense to know that even the smallest misstep with those precious girls meant instant death– it varied from occasion to occasion whether Ramsay or the girls themselves made the killing blow, but the end result remained the same.

So, understandably, Ramsay’s first reaction when he found a girl petting and cooing at one of his bitches was ineffable, uncontrollable, unadulterated rage.

Just before Ramsay snatched the girl to him by the bodice of her dress, he saw Kyra (the hound in question) wag her tail and was so shocked that he paused just long enough to hear what the girl was saying.

“You’re such a pretty girl, yes you are! I wonder who you belong to. They must be very lucky to have such a sweet baby girl.”

For the first time in his natural-born life, Ramsay Snow found it difficult to restrain himself from murdering someone in public.
He whistled sharply, calling his dog to him. Obediently, Kyra went to his side, and the girl she had been with looked up at him, surprised, but after a moment a spark of recognition lit in her eyes.

“My lord,” she curtsied lowly, but there was an indifference in her voice that irked Ramsay. “Good morning.”

“The same to you, my dear.” Ramsay’s malicious smile crept onto his face unbidden at the thought of how she might sound as she screamed. “I see you and my Kyra were getting along splendidly.”

The girl smiled softly, her lips arching with a grace the gods withheld from noble ladies and gave exclusively to pretty peasant girls. “She’s beautiful.”

Ramsay nodded. Even if this wench was a peasant, she had a good eye for beauty. “So she is. I would know your name– it’s not often that my dogs allow any human touch besides my own,” he noted, scratching Kyra’s ear. “You’re lucky my darling girl didn’t tear your to shreds.”

“My name is (y/n), my lord.” The reply was made short and clipped– almost strained– but (y/n)’s face gave nothing away.

“(Y/n).” Ramsay rolled the name around in his head, testing whether or not he found it agreeable. After a moment of consideration, he decided it was so. “A lovely name. It suits you– you’re a lovely girl.”

Ramsay looked for all the usual signs– a blush, a tremble, a downcast gaze– but he found only a sad smile that never even reached (y/n)’s sparkling (e/c) eyes.
“Thank you, my lord.”

There was no fear in this girl, nor was there desire– there was only a thin layer of casual respect in her disposition, and beneath it lay something deeper, something more. Ramsay didn’t like that. He didn’t like not knowing, didn’t like secrets. Secrets didn’t make friends, after all.

“What family are you from?” he queried, feigning mild curiosity.

“Not one you would know, my lord,” she shrugged. “They’re all gone now anyway. My mother died giving birth to my youngest brother, and my father took the boys and went off to fight for the north.”

“Leaving you here alone,” Ramsay finished, an idea forming in his head that he very much liked.

“Yes.”

“Alone is no way to live for a lovely young girl such as yourself,” Ramsay said, his voice rich with feigned compassion. “A crying shame. My father didn’t raise a son who would let such a thing happen under his rule. Would you like to come with me where I can make sure all your needs are met? You already won the heart of this carnivorous beast,” he smiled, patting Kyra’s head. “And I’m sure you’ll be one of the girls in no time.”

Yes, one of the girls. My bitch. My loyal, obedient bitch.

(Y/n)’s eyes grew wide with shock, her gaze darting from Ramsay to Kyra and back to Ramsay. She searched his eyes for an answer, but Ramsay revealed nothing either. Choose, he thought. Choose very, very carefully, lovely girl.

“I can hardly refuse an offer from you, my lord.” It was a pity (y/n) had stopped looking so pathetically confused. Ogling fish was such a good look on her. Ramsay supposed he would have to befuddle her often, then, just for the sheer hell of it.

“Very wise, my dear,” he replied with a wide grin, offering (y/n) his arm. “Now, how do you feel about the color pink?”

“I’m quite neutral to it, my lord. Never fancied it my color, but I’ve never worn it so I’m no real judge of it myself.”

“We will have to remedy that, then. I have many fine fabrics in every shade of the color, and seamstresses to fit you. Would you like that, my dear?” Ramsay asked, his most charming smile forced onto his features.

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord,” she paused a moment, as though thinking. “You are too kind.”

Right you are, my dear, right you are. “Well, I am ever the extremist,” Ramsay admitted as he mounted his horse. “Come, dear one, and I will have chambers prepared for you.”

*

True to his word, Ramsay did have rooms prepared for his delightfully ignorant guest. They were joined to his own, as he showed (y/n) with barely-contained glee– glee that was more caused by him considering what fun he would have training his new bitch than considering his own generosity.

Just when she thinks she’s safe, she will discover that she’s the sheep that decided to lie down with the wolves, Ramsay thought to himself as he watched her face carefully. She really was very lovely, with a face that would wear pain well and skin that he would love to bruise. And to think that she was blissfully unaware of what was to come! A sweet little lamb indeed.

The more Ramsay thought about this girl, the more perfect she seemed. He even became a little lightheaded thinking of what he would do to her– of what her blood would look like smeared across her body, how those lovely eyes would widen as she fought for breath. He worked himself up so much that by dinner he had to excuse himself for a few moments to regain control. Ramsay knew he shouldn’t count his eggs before the chickens fucked, but seven hells he was hungry for something more than casual dinner conversation, more than this game of I-look-away-when-you-look-at me, more than this boring shite. He wanted– no, needed– more.

And more he got– just not in the way he expected.

Long after Ramsay had retired to his chambers, he began to drift off, tired from a day of scheming. Just as he was on the cusp of sleep, he felt the coldness of a blade press against his throat, and he went very still as a smile spread so widely across his face that it hurt.

“Do it,” Ramsay breathed, opening his eyes to see (y/n)’s lovely face staring down at him, made luminous by the light of the moon that shone into his chambers. “Do it. Go on, you’ve got me. Nothing is easy.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” The question might have had more weight if she hadn’t been trembling like a leaf.

“Valar morghulis,” he murmured huskily through his smile, his voice deepened by sleep.

(Y/n)’s whole body shivered at that, but the knife at Ramsay’s throat was steady.
“You betrayed Robb Stark to the Freys,” she said, her eyes wide and fierce as her chest heaved with adrenaline. “You stormed Winterfell not to free it from the Greyjoys, but to have it for yourself.”

What a naïve little dove. “Those are my father’s sins, not mine, sweetling. You’ll have to try harder than that.” Ramsay let himself sink into his bed, relaxed, only to have the knife pressed more insistently against him. The sensation of his quickened pulse against metal went straight to his cock, the thrill of the moment setting his insatiable desires aflame.

“You poisoned your brother,” she accused him. “You murder, you rape. You waste innocent lives for pleasure. You tortured Theon Greyjoy until he forgot who he was. You’re hardly human.”

Ramsay chuckled. “If you think for one second that I did not love my dear brother Domeric… Well, you are correct.” Ramsay felt himself grin, leaning up against the knife so that his breath fanned (y/n)’s face. “But I am not a woman, a coward, or a eunuch. If I killed him it would have been by carving out his heart and feeding it to the bloody leech we both called father. On all the other counts, I must admit that you are right. I torture, I rape, I murder, I debase– does that trouble you? Do you think I deserve death?”

“If I don’t kill you, you will hurt more people.” (Y/n)’s sweet, honeyed voice tremored ever so slightly, and she raised the knife only a hair as Ramsay leaned even farther up– far enough so that he could smell the sweet pauper’s perfume she must have put on hours before.

“Oh yes, many,” he smirked. “So what are you so afraid of? Do it. If you’re confident that I’m a monster, kill me now.”
She broke, just as Ramsay had known she would, and she threw the knife from the bed as though it had burned her. Ramsay pulled her into a bruising kiss, dropping the knife he’d had hidden beneath the sheets. Oh, how he’d wanted to take her then and there, fuck her until she bled– but not tonight. He would save his enthusiasm for another time.

When he pulled away, (y/n)’s eyes were soft and warm.

“Oh, darling, I’m going to destroy you.”

X~ One look could kill
My pain, your thrill. ~X


(Y/n) had always had terrible taste in men, but this was absolutely ridiculous.
She had very nearly killed him. She had been so close…Ramsay Snow, the epitome of evil, had been right beneath her knife, his blood pumping hard against sharp steel, and she threw it all away.

And what for?

At first, (y/n) wasn’t sure.

She struggled to sleep that night, trapped between Ramsay’s arm and a (ridiculously comfortable) bed, wondering what the morning would bring. After a while, she managed to drift into a light slumber, but when she woke, it was to an empty room and a locked door.

Anticipation gnawed at (y/n)’s gut. What was she to do? The window was far too high above the ground for escape that way– banging on the door would accomplish nothing aside from letting the whole of Winterfell know that she was awake. It seemed that there was nothing to do but wait and try not to mentally collapse in the process. The eerie silence of the room alone nearly drove (y/n) mad, the sound of her blood rushing through her body seemingly magnified to fill her ears.

Just as (y/n) began to reconsider her earlier observation about the window, the door she had been staring at swung open, and Ramsay Snow entered, wearing his usual snarling smirk.

“Good morning, sweetling,” he intoned in that velvety voice that sent shivers down (y/n)’s spine. “I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten about you– I only had some business to take care of. I so hated to be away from my new pet for so long, but the duties of a lord called.”

If you think I’m going to dignify that with a response, you’re dead wrong, (y/n) thought, tightening her hands into fists of her skirts, but before she had a chance to say anything, Ramsay offered her his arm. In his beautiful, ice-cold eyes was a message.

Take the arm, or face the unknown. Choose.

(Y/n) stood and took Ramsay’s arm.

“As my new pet, you will need to be trained, as I’m sure you understand, but first I will have to punish you,” Ramsay informed her gleefully, his full lips playing at a smile. “Do you know why? It’s unjust to punish a pet if it doesn’t know what it did wrong.”

(Y/n) clenched her jaw. I will not stoop to this. I will not.

“Come on my sweet, do you know what you did?” It was terrifying how Ramsay’s voice remained so calm, so soft and sweet despite the sharp edge of his intent, but this sort of terror was warm and searing in (y/n)’s stomach, so different than the cold fear she knew before. This was something else entirely– something base, something raw, something thrilling.

When (y/n) offered no answer to Ramsay’s question, he stopped completely, turning to face her. His nose was only inches away as he grabbed her by the jaw, and commanded, “Speak.”

“I tried to kill you.” The answer was out of (y/n)’s mouth before she could stop it, and Ramsay released his grip on her face, undoubtedly leaving imprints where his nails dug into her skin.

“Good, pet.”

(Y/n) hung her head, fixing her eyes on the floor. Don’t let him see. Don’t let him know, gods, never let him find out.

Ramsay paused to open the door to what (y/n) supposed was the dungeons, and they descended into the bowels of Winterfell side by side.

“This will be where most of your training takes place as well as any punishment,” Ramsay said with a milk-curdling smile. “We wouldn’t want the rest of Winterfell to know what we get up to, now would we?”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly.

Ramsay led her to a large table that stood next to a bed, which was placed in front of what (y/n) recognized as a cross– the same cross Theon Greyjoy had been tortured at. All at once, (y/n)’s knees felt weak and her chest felt empty, but Ramsay’s strong arm supported her weight so that she wouldn’t fall. He said nothing, but the way he looked at her said it all– he knew how she would react, and he reveled in her fear.

“Bend over the table.”

Trembling violently, (y/n) did as she was bid, and she had a few short, blissful moments to regain control before Ramsay turned around and was able to see her face. She couldn’t let him see. She could not and she would not.

“Now, pet, this is both a punishment and your first lesson,” Ramsay informed her as he turned to reveal a wooden paddle in his hand. “Any time I strike you, you are to count. For every time you do not, I will cut one lock of your lovely hair down to the root. Do you understand?”

Just one look could give it all away. If Ramsay ever found out how much this affected her, he would just slit her throat and be done with it– because as sick as he was to gain pleasure from torture, she was the more so for feeling this wad of arousal stir in her belly at the thought of his hands undressing her, of his arm swinging that board against her backside.

“Yes, my lord,” (y/n) replied, her mouth feeling full of cotton.

Ramsay tutted. “That was pitiful. Look at me. Do. You. Understand?”

(Y/n) managed to raise her eyes to Ramsay, praying he did not see what she felt.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” Ramsay walked leisurely behind her, his steps making not a sound. He pushed up the fabric of her dress, ripped off her knickers, and pulled down her stockings
He waited so long to strike that the first blow came almost unexpectedly.

Smack.

“One,” (y/n) gasped, the sting of the paddle bringing blood from her head to her rear.

Smack, smack.

“Two. Three.”

With every strike, (y/n) wanted more, more, more. Somewhere past twenty, her mouth counted without her mind as her skin of her ass became raw with the blows.

I need more, I need more, I need more. I want his hands on me, I want to feel his skin, I want it all.

(Y/n) caught herself mid-thought. It was one thing to want the pain– it was quite another to want the man that was currently inflicting it.

What am I doing? Why do I want this? This man is the Bastard of Bolton, a murderer, a rapist, a monster… He is everything I hate, and yet…

And yet she wanted him nonetheless.

This was what she had chosen to trade that one chance to kill the Bastard of Bolton for, and she didn’t regret that choice in the least.


X~ I wanna love you but I better not touch.
I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop. ~X


Ramsay decided to stop when blood began pouring from (y/n)’s backside.

He really had gotten quite carried away– she was just so responsive. And obedient as well– the poor girl had practically screamed the last number that Ramsay had lost count of. As he prodded his fingers into the bloody wounds on (y/n)’s backside, he wished he hadn’t gone so roughly for day one– his cock was achingly hard, and he wanted to fuck his bitch very badly, but at this point she might actually pass out if he tried, and then it wouldn’t be any fun.

“You wear punishment very well, love,” Ramsay praised, admiring the way the crimson color of blood brought out the sheen of (y/n)’s skin. “I dare say you have earned some water, and perhaps a bite of breakfast. Can you still walk?”

Instead of answering, (y/n) only shook her head.

That simply would not do.

“Answer me. Speak, pet, when I ask you a question.”

“No, my lord,” she replied hoarsely, her face pressed against the table.

“Better. Be a good pet, now, and try to straighten up,” Ramsay instructed, steadying (y/n) as best he could. “You just think it hurts now. Wait until tomorrow. You really won’t be able to move then.”

As feeble as (y/n) was in that moment, it would have been completely acceptable, probably even preferable, for Ramsay to be a little more physical– an arm around her frame, a supporting hand here or there– but something inside him flashed a warning. No matter how badly he wanted to touch her, to be physically closer and maximize her discomfort, he couldn’t make himself do so. It just felt…off.

“Lie down on the bed here, and I’ll return shortly. Move so much as an inch from the spot and I will make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

That last bit wasn’t really necessary, but Ramsay just liked giving threats. They always rolled so easily off the tongue. Especially since he meant them.

It was with a light spirit and cheery countenance that the Bastard of Bolton skipped up to the kitchens and fixed a tray of the finest breakfast Winterfell had to offer, bringing along some soft cloth with which to clean and bandage the mess he’d made.


X~ I wanna kiss you but I want it too much,
I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison– You’re poison running through my veins. I don’t want to break these chains~X


(Y/n) discovered along and along just how controlling Ramsay could be.

Though he was cruel and cold and mean, Ramsay was not as she thought. He was very calculating– she would have taken him for a mindless, rash beast, but Ramsay had the patience of a saint and the desires of a demon. In fact, he was somewhat of a paradox in that his intention was to bend and break (y/n)’s will, but he refused to push beyond what he thought she could handle. It was like he wanted to choose the day that he broke her, to control the process of “breaking his bitch” right down the the last moment. (Y/n) didn’t know if that was thrilling or terrifying.

As for daily life, it changed drastically for (y/n) in the next few weeks. If she were to have a bath, it was Ramsay who gave it. If she were to have any clothes, Ramsay would choose what they were and would dress her in them as he saw fit. Any time (y/n) endeavored to make her own decisions, a punishment was issued, each punishment worse than the last. Needless to say, (y/n) fought like a wild animal to maintain any scraps of dignity she had left, but it always resulted in more of the same– a punishment that proved more and more a pleasure.

But today?

Oh, today she had earned something terrible, and the thrill of it made her heart pound.

It all began when (y/n) woke earlier than usual, and found herself able to slip from beneath Ramsay’s arms without rousing him. She slipped over to Ramsay’s desk where lay a hand mirror that she lifted to eye level. It had been so long since (y/n) had seen herself that the woman staring back at her seemed a stranger. Oddly enough, she had changed for the better– her face was no longer as thin, her eyes were no longer as dull. Regular meals, despite Ramsay’s presence, had done her well. Sure, she had a few more scars, but she reveled in the memory of how she got each one. In fact, she rather preferred having them– they reminded her of the patterning on the pretty alley cat that used to piss around the edges of her house. All in all, she looked… beautiful.

Just when (y/n) had decided she had looked her fill, Ramsay began to stir on the bed. (Y/n) tried to fit herself beneath his arm before he woke, but it was too late. He knew– she could feel it.

“What were you doing up before your master, pet?” Ramsay asked, piercing her to the mattress with those eyes of pure ice. “Thinking to escape? Make another attempt on my life?”

“I-I wasn’t up.” Lying was probably a terrible idea, but what was (y/n) supposed to say? If she said she was looking in the mirror, he would either believe her a liar or take the mirror away or both.

Ramsay glowered at her, grabbing her by the front of her shift and hauling her up to look into her eyes, where he could read anything and everything he needed to know.

For a few breaths, there was silence.

“Liar,” he snarled, shoving her away. “What have I told you about lying?”

That lying would get me in more.trouble than confessing my wrongs. “I don’t know, my lord. I can’t remember.”

“Another lie.” Ramsay was livid. “I suppose I was remiss in thinking that you could be treated delicately and still be properly trained. I see now that is not the case. Today I will be making up for lost time, my dear, so I would prepare myself were I you.”

And that was that.

Ramsay wasted little time with his breakfast– he even had it sent up instead of going down arm-in-arm with (y/n) as usual. Once they had both eaten, Ramsay wasted even less time getting the two of them to the dungeons, not even bothering to dress (y/n) in anything but her shift.

A thousand different scenarios played through (y/n)’s head as she tried to guess her punishment. She wondered if it would be something similar to last week with the hot candle wax, or if it would be more like the first paddling she was given. Or maybe it would be something entirely new.

Without words, Ramsay shoved (y/n) onto the bed, binding her wrists and ankles to the bedposts with leather straps. She could feel his rage rolling off him in waves, and already she knew that there would be no hiding the wetness between her legs if he decided to remove her shift and leave her only in her smallclothes – (y/n) would be completely exposed, unable to do much more than squirm in resistance.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeyed, and completely without warning, Ramsay shoved his fingers down her throat.

Even as (y/n) fought the urge to vomit, she sucked on Ramsay’s fingers as though they were coated in the sweetest of honey. To have this man, this handsome, horrible man, touching her like this, making her feel all of these things that she had never felt before, was something she could never become accustomed to.

It was in that moment that (y/n) realized that this was what she had needed from life all along. She needed food, shelter, a controlled atmosphere– here she had that, but even more so, she needed someone that she could indulge in her most awful urges without fear of hurting someone or being hurt. As completely insane and foolish as it was…(y/n) trusted Ramsay not to take her farther than she could come back from. She wanted very badly to kiss him, to taste the sweet venom that surely laced his lips.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure who that made the crazier, but she did know that she never wanted to break these chains.


X~ Your mouth so hot,
Your web, I’m caught.
Your skin so wet
Black lace on sweat. ~X


“A good pet does not lie,” Ramsay snarled, withdrawing his fingers from (y/n)’s hot, yielding mouth. “You should have faith in me to be just.”

The sting of betrayal still lingered in Ramsay’s chest. He’d thought, if only for a little while, that (y/n) had learned to trust him. It angered him beyond reason that she was yet resistant to his will, so doubtful of his intent– after all, he had hardly done anything absolutely awful to her after he’d gotten carried away with the paddle. He only wanted her to be loyal, to know her place, before she was made truly one of his girls.

“Why did you lie?” he demanded, brushing his thumb over (y/n)’s bottom lip. “Did you fear my wrath?”

“No, my lord,” she replied sweetly, looking perfectly angelic as saliva shone on her lips. Ramsay fought the urge to say all was forgiven and give in to his own needs.

“Then why?”

No answer.

“Do we need to go back to the beginning of your lessons, my sweet, stubborn girl?”

“No, my lord, I only–”(y/n) stopped herself before she could say more.

“Only what?” Ramsay asked, bringing his face closer to her own, as if they were two opposite sides of a magnet.

“I wanted to,” she admitted shakily.
Ramsay pulled away. “I see. We shall have to fix that.” He strode over to where he kept a bucket of water and lye soap on hand, ripping a strip of his undershirt to use as a cloth. (Y/n)’s eyes followed him as he’d known they would, which only made Ramsay smile all the wider.

“I’ll just wash your mouth of that filth, and we’ll have no more lies from you.”

(Y/n) may have caught him in her little web of deception, but it would be she who would be caught undressed, was it were. Before washing out her mouth, Ramsay ripped off (y/n)’s shift so that he could pour the remainder of the water over her when he was finished– he damn well meant that since she put him through all this trouble, he was going to enjoy watching her shiver as her lace smallclothes clung to her wet skin on the way back to his chambers.

X~ I hear you calling and it’s needles and pins~X


When Ramsay told (y/n) that he would be going away for a while to attend to his father’s business, she thought that she might enjoy herself a bit, especially since she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for the mouth washing incident.

(Y/n) was as wrong as snow in Dorne.

She was bored. Bloody bored. All of Winterfell to herself, and without Ramsay everything was boring. (Y/n) was unable to do anything but sit and sulk and wait for Ramsay’s return, alternating between the window, the floor, and the desk of their shared room.

Day after day, night after night, it was more of the same. After a week, the sheets no longer smelled like Ramsay. After two, (y/n) notice the bed feeling colder. After two and a half, she was ready to go half mad.
Just when (y/n) thought she could take no more, one day she woke up and knew Ramsay was back. She felt his presence calling her to him like the waves called to the shore– pins and needles ran all along her body, and it was before the sun had even risen that (y/n) made her way to the gates to meet him.

For all her trouble, it seemed that this Ramsay was not the Ramsay that she had been expecting.

(Y/n) had thought that Ramsay would be as lively and enthusiastic as ever– she had just assumed that he would either pat her on the head for coming to him or scold her for leaving her permitted areas without permission, that his eyes would light up with his familiar morbid excitement, but he did none of those things. The Ramsay that sat in the saddle of the red stallion that belonged to the real Ramsay was a shell of what he should be. His eyes were hollow, his expression was numb, and he seemed particularly uninterested in any human interaction.

Ramsay’s condition did not change even when he stopped his horse in front of (y/n), hardly acknowledging her existence.

“Welcome home, my lord,” (y/n) greeted him hesitantly, careful to give his mean-tempered stallion a wide berth. “Winterfell was not the same without you.”

Ramsay’s eyes studied her, their usual spark replaced by melancholy. “Ride with me.”

(Y/n) took the hand up that was offered her and mounted behind Ramsay, wrapping her arms around his waist. Immediately, her nose was filled with the smell of horse and hay and sweat and Ramsay, and there was not a happier woman in all the north. Warmth spread from his body to her own, even through several layers of clothing, and (y/n) felt at home. She was almost disappointed when they had to dismount– (y/n) knew she was not allowed to be physically close to Ramsay in public, but she had missed him just as much physically as she had mentally and emotionally, and she wanted to stay with her arms wrapped around him forever.

“Come, pet. I have good news,” he told her, extending his arm. “There will be feasting tonight. You’ll need to wear your finest gown.”

All this was said absently, as though he were in a trance. But, since (y/n) wasn’t given much more of an option, she simply complied, walking with him up the dimly-lit stairs to their chambers.

Then, as soon as the lock on their chamber door was in place, Ramsay spoke as though unable to remain silent.“I have been naturalized. My last name is Bolton. Roose is now– he’s now my father in name as well as blood.”

“That’s good, my lord,” (y/n) smiled, taking his hands in her own. “I’m very proud for you.”

“He’s married now, you know.”

(Y/n) paused. “Pardon?”

“Walder Frey offered my father his bride’s weight in silver. He’s now married to Fat Walda.”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was at a loss for words– she had no idea what Ramsay needed right now, no idea how to handle any of this.

“Ramsay,” she began gently, squeezing his hands. “I’m sure that doesn’t make you any less his son in his eyes and in the eyes of the law.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ramsay wouldn’t even look at her, his gaze downcast.

(Y/n) moved one of her hands to the side of his face. “Oh, Ramsay–”

“Do not touch me,” he hissed jerking away from her.

(Y/n) backed away, sadness creeping into her stomach. “My apologies, my lord.”
Ramsay spent the rest of the day silently avoiding every single human life inside Winterfell, and (y/n) had no idea how to fix him.

X~ I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name,
Don’t wanna touch you but you’re under my skin,
I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison.~X

“You are my son now more than ever. You will have to learn to control yourself, Ramsay. No Bolton can be spoken of the way people speak of you.”

Roose Bolton’s voice played on repeat in the back of Ramsay’s head, driving him mad moment by moment. Every second Ramsay spent in solitude was a kick to the chest, but leaving his chambers for even a moment made him feel horribly nauseated. This was it– Ramsay had finally gotten what he always wanted and he still wasn’t good enough for his father. There seemed to be nothing left worth striving for. Life had brought him nothing but dissatisfaction, and Ramsay was quite finished with it.
But (y/n), of all people, was not dealing well with this change.

She had become more intemperate, more ill-disciplined, and bloody well more irritating than when she had first come to Winterfell. Whenever he was feeling his worst, she was always did something to get under Ramsay’s skin– whether she was questioning his moods, testing his patience with her nonconformity, or being unbearably foolish, (y/n) never ceased to make Ramsay grind his teeth so hard his jaw might snap. He had never thought that he would see a day when she would prove too frustrating to continue, but Ramsay was turning out to be wrong about a lot of things these days.
Really and truly, though, Ramsay didn’t snap until (y/n) pushed the one button she had never pushed before. She knew the rule as well as everyone at Winterfell did– never, ever, come between the Bastard of Bolton and his meal.

It had been a normal evening as far as Ramsay’s standards. He’d even gone hunting a bit after before and brought home some fresh game– he felt great. (Well, not great– less like a piss-pot than usual, though.) Ramsay even expected that tonight’s sleep would be somewhat peaceful, and he was quite looking forward to downing a goblet or two of wine with his meal.

What he wasn’t expecting was for (y/n) to dump the contents of said goblet into his lap in front of the entire hall.

The events immediately following that were somewhat of a blur. Ramsay, angrier than he’d been in weeks, raged at (y/n) like she was a dog, leapt across the table, and dragged her to the dungeons like a man gone mad. He didn’t even realize that he’d left the hall until he realized that he was binding (y/n)’s wrists together instead of to a chair or bedpost.

Oh well. He could hardly change it now.

“What possessed you,” he growled, coming face to face with (y/n). “To even think about humiliating me in front of my servants in my hall with my own wine? Do you think that’s some sort of revenge, pet? Do you think you can just do whatever you please without consequences?”

“No my lord,” she breathed, her chest heaving as her eyes lit with some mixture of fear and wonder.

“Then why did you do it?”

Ramsay’s answer did not come in the form of words, but it made itself clear in the insistent press of (y/n)’s lips on his own. Reality slammed into his chest like a spear, and the most wonderful realization of Ramsay’s life formed in his head.
She wants this.

Ramsay, without even realizing it, had kissed (y/n) back, threading his fingers through the silky soft hair that he washed and brushed for her. She tasted like they bread and honey she’d just eaten, and she smelt sweet and sharp and just a little like himself, which was incredibly intoxicating. With just one simple gesture, Ramsay understood it all.

“You wanted it,” he breathed. “You wanted it all along. You deliberately disobeyed me in order to incur a punishment because you…because you wanted it.”

(Y/n) didn’t answer, and she didn’t need to. The truth was right there in her eyes, shining out in all earnest.

“Would you like for me to untie you, pet, or would you like me to leave you just as you are?” Ramsay asked before capturing her lips once more. “I intend for this to be very satisfying for the both of us.”

“Take off my clothes,” was (y/n)’s only response.

“You’re such a clever girl,” Ramsay smirked, guiding her to the bed, where he crawled on top of her, boots, cape, and all. “You’re more of a spider than a bitch– you’ve spun the neatest little web and caught me in it, my dear. I am such a fool for sickness, after all.”

“Yes, my lord,” (y/n) replied, wrapping her legs around his torso. “Please, please my lord, I want you. I was so worried that you–”
She stopped herself, almost afraid. Ramsay had to laugh.

“Sweetling, I will never leave you, nor will I change who I am. I was just going through a bit of a slump, is all,” Ramsay smiled viciously. “I do, however, apologize– I had quite forgotten that my bitch goes into heat. It was cruel of me to deny you so. I can only hope you’ll forgive me.”

He layer by layer, he ripped off (y/n)’s clothes, burying his face in her neck, biting and sucking along the way. Ramsay’s hands quickly found her smallclothes and stripped her of them as well. Soon she was completely naked beneath him, and he was still fully clothed.

“Tell me what you want, my dove,” he murmured in her ear. “I want to hear it.”

“Fuck me, please, Ramsay, I need you, need to feel you, need to–I just–”

“I’ve got you, pretty one, I’ve got you.”
And so he went to work. There were two things that Ramsay was the master of– pain was one, and pleasure was the other. In this game of both, he was sure to be the best player.

*

(Y/n) was spoiled for the rest of her life for lovemaking with anyone else besides Ramsay– it would be humanly impossible to top that night. His every attention was on her and what she was feeling, his hands fluttering from her breasts to her sides, always making sure to keep her overwhelmed with every sensation. And when he had entered her–oh he had taken it agonizingly slowly. She thought she might die before Ramsay finally decided to fuck her well and truly, but when he did, she nearly melted at her climax, which was made better by the confessions of love that were exchanged afterward.

Now, Ramsay was sound asleep, and (y/n) took the time to admire how young he looked in his sleep. He seemed peaceful for once, and she snuggled closer to him to take the edge off of the northern chill while she had the chance.

There were still those who called Ramsay Bolton poison, but if his love was the venom then it was (y/n)’s drug of choice.

celebrated-as-the-rebel-kind  asked:

TOP TEN BUFFY SUMMERS SCENES ON BTVS (I know there's obviously more than ten so don't feel bad about only *listing* ten. ;)

Oh I love this! Buffy is my favorite character OF ALL TIME, so naturally I could list most of her scenes, but I managed to narrow it down to 10…plus 5! Okay I am just that pathetic that I needed 15…and a few honorable mentions. I’m sorry! I will just put them in chronological order, because ranking them would probably kill me!

1. Prophecy Girl - Buffy’s speech to Giles “Giles. I’m sixteen years old. I don’t want to die.” We had seen Buffy grapple with the balance of being a teenager and being The Slayer, but up until this point, it hadn’t been driven home completely. This scene broke it all open. It put in perspective just how young this girl is and how she was forced to give up her childhood and now, her LIFE. An extension to this scene is the way she marches off to face The Master, despite knowing she will die and then the bad ass bantering way in which she defeats him. “You’ve got fruit punch mouth.” “I may be dead, but I’m still pretty”

2. Becoming Part II -  The fight between Buffy and Joyce, “No, it doesn’t stop! It never stops! Do you think I chose to be like this? You have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous? I would love to be upstairs, watching TV or gossiping about boys or… God, even studying! But I have to save the world. Again.” The weight of the world is on Buffy’s shoulders, as it always is, and she is pretty much losing everything. This showdown with her mom was long overdue, and the absolute heartbreak of knowing that this young woman has to endure even more suffering to save the world is unbearable. I have to include the other pinnacle moment from this episode as a Buffy fan…when Angelus is taunting Buffy, “No weapons… no friends… no hope. Take all that away and what’s left?” and Buffy simply replies “Me.” THAT is Buffy Summers. No matter what the circumstances, she is there standing between us and the forces of darkness and nothing can break her.

3. Helpless - Buffy is being drugged by Giles on behalf of The Watchers. Throughout the episode we get a chance to see how terrifying her job is without any special abilities. The moment she marches in to save her mother from a viscous, rabid vampire, with no super powers to speak of, gives me chills. She is so scared, but she is Buffy. That means she puts aside her fear and fights. It was an incredible moment which proved that Buffy did not need super powers to be a hero. It is her heart and her mind that made her strong.

4. Earshot - The speech Buffy makes to Jonathan in the tower. It was so incredibly poignant and relevant to teenagers and all humanity, really “My life happens, on occasion, to suck beyond the telling of it…sometimes more than I can handle. And it’s not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they’re too busy with their own. The beautiful ones, the popular ones, the guys that pick on you, everyone. If you could hear what they were feeling: the loneliness, the confusion…it looks quiet down there. It’s not. It’s deafening.” It is so profound, and it makes us all realize that we need to look beyond the surface and empathize with others and understand that we aren’t the only ones to shed tears.

5. Family - The way Buffy sticks up for Tara in this episode makes me cry every single time. Tara had just screwed up. She made a mistake that could have cost the scoobies their lives, and prior to that Buffy had already been failing to click with or really understand Tara. But she understood her in that moment. She saw a woman who was desperate to fit in and be “normal”, she saw someone who, while being different, was fighting similar demons as the rest of the scoobies. She saw a woman who was being abused by her own blood, and she stood up for her. She welcomed Tara into the family with open arms, “You want her Mr. Maclay? You can go ahead and take her. You just gotta go through me…You heard me. You want to take Tara out of here against her will? You gotta come through me.” Mr. Maclay: “You people have no right to interfere with Tara’s affairs. We are her blood kin. Who the hell are you?” Buffy replies “We’re family.” This is just so moving. Family isn’t about blood. It’s not what you’re born with. It’s what you make. Buffy is the greatest friend, and given the compassion and understanding Tara shows for Buffy when Joyce dies and when Buffy comes back from Heaven, you can really see how much this moment meant to Tara.

6. Checkpoint - The scene where Buffy confronts The Watchers Council, “I’ve had a lot of people talking at me the last few days, everyone just lining up to tell me how unimportant I am, and I finally figured out why…power. I have it. They don’t. This bothers them. Glory came to my home today…just to talk. She told me I’m a bug, I’m a flea, she could squash me in a second. Only she didn’t. She came into my home and we had what in her warped mind probably passes for a civilized conversation, Why? Because she needs something from me. Because I have power over her. You guys didn’t come all the way from England to determine whether or not I was good enough to be let back in. You came to beg me to let you back in, to give your jobs…your lives…some semblance of meaning.” Buffy coming to the realization that everyone was trying to cut her down because they were threatened and intimated by her power is amazing. She owns it so well.

7. Blood Ties - The scene in the hospital with Dawn, “It’s Summer blood. It’s just like mine. You ARE my sister.” The way Buffy assures Dawn that she IS her sister, and that she loves her, not because of her duties as The Slayer, but because of the connection she feels to her as a sister. Dawn didn’t have to start out as her family, but like with Tara, we see that origins are not something that concerns Buffy. Family is made not born.

8. Intervention - The final scene with Spike. Buffy pretends to be the bot to find out if Spike told Glory about Dawn. When she realizes he would rather die than reveal this secret, she understands for the first time that his love for her is in fact real, and she takes pity on him with the gentlest of kisses. “What you did for me and for Dawn…THAT was real. I won’t forget it.”, and she doesn’t. It is Spike that she continually trusts to protect Dawn in her absence, above all others. As a Spuffy shipper, this scene obviously is one of my favorites, but as a fan of Buffy it ranks up there too. Buffy values loyalty and with Spike she ends up finding the greatest partner in her fight. Side note: The revelation that death is Buffy’s gift and that she is so full of love that she pulls away from it are also really amazing.

10. The Gift - The whole episode really. “But you’re just a girl.” “That’s what I keep saying.” and the staunch way she fights Giles over Dawn when he dares to say Dawn is not her sister, “You’re right. She’s more than that. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. When I hold her…I feel closer to her than… It’s not just the memories they built. It’s physical. Dawn… is a part of me. The only part that I…” then later Giles says that everyone in the world will die, including Dawn, and her response is the most perfect thing, “Then the last thing she’ll see is me protecting her.”. I also really love her later speech to Giles, “I sacrificed Angel to save the world. I loved him so much, but I knew what was right. I don’t have that anymore. I don’t know how to live in this world if these are the choices, if everything gets stripped away. I don’t see the point. I just wish that…I just wish that my mom was here.” In Becoming, Buffy was able to kill Angel. It was black and white, but now the world is gray, and she is asked to kill an innocent, an innocent that she loves more than she has ever loved ANYTHING. Then of course we have the sacrifice and the speech, “"Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles… tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I’m okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world… is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.” Buffy never hesitates to give her life. It’s who she is. I don;t think any scene on the series makes me cry as much as this one. The beauty that is Buffy Summers… The amount of love in her heart and the way she gives it all for the people around her… I’m going to cry now just talking about it.

11. After Life - When Buffy reveals the horrible truth to Spike, “I was happy. Wherever I was… I was happy… at peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time… didn’t mean anything. Nothing had form. But I was still me, you know? And I was warm. And I was loved. And I was finished. Complete. I - I don’t understand theology or dimensions, any of it really… but I think I was in heaven. And now I’m not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out, by my friends. Everything here is hard and bright and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch. This is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that. Knowing what I’ve lost. They can never know. Never.” The heartbreaking revelation that this hero who sacrificed herself was ripped out of the ultimate happiness and thrown back into her world of violence and death is just so painful, and it sets up the season and Buffy’s depression, perfectly. And of course, being Buffy, she is still trying to save her friends from the massive guilt and regret they would feel for what they did. Obviously, it really wasn’t Buffy’s time, and she recovers and finds the desire to live in the world again, but the pain of loss in this scene is just so intense.

12. Conversations with Dead People/End of Days - Getting to the root of Buffy feeling both superior and inferior, “I feel like I’m worse than anyone. Honestly, I’m beneath them. My friends, my boyfriends. I feel like I’m not worthy of their love. ‘Cause even though they love me, it doesn’t mean anything ‘cause their opinions don’t matter. They don’t know. They haven’t been through what I’ve been through. They’re not the slayer. I am. Sometimes I feel…this is awful…I feel like I’m better than them. Superior.” I always love the scenes when Buffy discusses what it means to be The Slayer and the complexities of it. I couple this one with the scene between Buffy and Faith in End of Days when Faith says “Me, by myself all the time. I’m looking at you, everything you have, and, I don’t know… jealous. Then there I am. Everybody’s looking to me, trusting me to lead them, and I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. And that’s you ever day, isn’t it?” to which Buffy replies “I love my friends. I’m very grateful for them. But that’s the price…being a slayer.” Faith finally grasps the severity and pressure that rests with Buffy, and is such an honest scene and a great finale for their relationship.

13. Bring on the Night - The end speech…it is seriously one of the most epic scenes ever written. Buffy was beaten to a pulp, nearly killed, and she walks down those stairs and she faces the group with the most resolute conviction and strength that I have ever seen on my television screen and says ” I’m beyond tired. I’m beyond scared. I’m standing on the mouth of hell, and it is gonna swallow me whole. And it’ll choke on me. We’re not ready? They’re not ready. They think we’re gonna wait for the end to come, like we always do. I’m done waiting. They want an apocalypse? Oh, we’ll give ‘em one. Anyone else who wants to run, do it now. 'Cause we just became an army. We just declared war. From now on, we won’t just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them, and cut out their hearts one by one, until The First shows itself for what it really is. And I’ll kill it myself. There is only one thing on this earth more powerful than evil, and that’s us. Any questions?“ If that doesn’t make you love Buffy…if that doesn’t give you serious chills, there is something wrong with you.

14. Showtime - When Buffy faces off with the ubervamp (Chaka Khan lol) to teach the whiny potentials a lesson…it is pure genius and just SO Buffy Summers “I’m the thing that monsters have nightmares about.” All Buffy needed to find was her confidence. Whenever she sets her mind to something, she does it. It’s not about the weapons. It is all in her strength of conviction. She decided to slay the ubervamp to make a point, and she did just that. “Here endeth the lesson.”

15. Chosen - Buffy shares the power of The Slayer with all potentials. It is such a lovely and empowering moment seeing so many women finding their strength and rising up. The plan Buffy concocts and the way it is executed is so amazing. As is the way she builds the confidence of Willow and of Spike, who play key roles in the fight. The way the battle shifts according to Buffy’s state, when she is down her side starts losing. But when we see her rise up and tell the first to get out of her face, the entire game changes. Of course the moment she finally admits to herself and to Spike that she loves him, as their hands clasp in flames while she both cries and smiles is just poetry. The revelation is so true and so beautiful. And there is her smile at the very end, at the realization that she no longer has to carry the weight of the world anymore. Perfection.

So yeah, I managed to leave off a ton of scenes I love like the way Buffy chooses Xander/Willow as her friends in Welcome to the Hellmouth when she could have picked the in crowd. There is the wonderful scene in The Prom when her peers recognize her for everything she does or the way she finds her strength again in season 4’s “The Freshman”. There’s also the moments of her teaching Dawn and the potentials how to fight and the way she goes into the vineyard to face Caleb alone in Touched. Not to mention the scenes in season 7 where she champions for Spike now that he has a soul or the scenes in Wrecked/Same Time Same Place where she accepts Willow despite her magic issues, first helping her with the addiction then literally giving Willow her power to help her heal. Gosh there are just so many. This is why Buffy Summers is by far the most brilliant, amazing, loyal, strong, courageous, and complex character ever created.

Heaven Lost An Angel - Part 1

First series from the Cringe-Worthy Spideychelle AUs Collection

Prompt: Trying to create the cheesiest, most unfortunate Spideychelle story possible.

Michelle Jones is a triple threat pop star that misses her old non-famous life. Peter Parker is an unemployed starving artist who is offered the chance to be her assistant.

Image credit: here Betas: @female-overlord-3  & @smileholland 

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Live Blog TWP Ep. 6

This week I had just over 5 pages of thoughts as I watched the episode.  The timeline has become so convoluted I just can’t.  I think I nit pick more at the historical side of things in this one (not comparing the historical story of Henry & Elizabeth of York to the show, but rather other historical aspects).  Enjoy!


IT”S BEHEADIN TIME BBY

The whole royal fam turned out for this thang.  The fact they’re all wearing the same clothes lets me know this takes place on the same day William was arrested…. Come on, I know it was the medieval times, but surely they had more than one or two changes of clothes in their wardrobe.  They are the king and queen after all.

Lizzie grabs his hand like “don’t listen 2 the haterz.”

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run me over

so…. i guess i have issues. although i gotta thank the babe for giving me the idea for the good part that i have yet to write. still typing. 

Edit: forgot to mention that this was part 3.

Part One and Part Two are here.


Part Three: do you even meme?

One week. That’s how much time had passed before got the courage to send Felix a message. Or rather, before Jack lost his mind not doing anything to get the man’s attention. He’d been thinking non-stop about Felix. And by non-stop, really, it was non-stop. Look up at the grey sky, above the clouds was sky probably the same colour as Felix’s eyes. It was raining out, wonder what Felix must look like with water all over him? Like… right after a shower…

It was probably wrong on some level. Unhealthy in others. But Sean could not help himself from thinking these things, among other things. So when it had been a week since the two had officially met, Sean decided it was time to make a move. A subtle move.

But what was subtle?

Sean was known for being a loud human. So subtle was not really in his vocabulary. There was a serious lack of skill in that department. No matter. He’d fake it till he made it. And Sean was determined to make it. So he opened up a new message tab on his phone and looked back and forth between the contact name and the empty message box. Now only to think of what to write…

Jack decided that perhaps it’d be better to send a picture rather than a text. So he went through the internet looking for different pictures. But none seemed good enough to send to Felix. Besides, what if Felix didn’t like memes? The terrible though occurred to Jack. If Felix didn’t like memes then he was surely screwed. Most of the things Jack did were meme related.

Sean decided to send a message asking Felix a question instead.

Do ya like memes? Sean sent. He put his phone down waiting for a reply.

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Twenty One Pilots x Reader : Friday Night Fun

A/N: As always, requests open. Love you guys! Sorry if I’m inactive or not posting as much, due to school starting up this week. Don’t be afraid though, I still plan to check in daily and try to at least post one fanfic a day. I love you all! You’re amazing! Hope you enjoy this!

You went to the drive thru of Taco Bell, ordering their favorite burritos and a couple drinks too. You knew Josh and Tyler had a long day at the studio, and they would be exhausted, tired, and hungry by the end of the day. You grabbed the food and drove to the studio, arriving with two large bags full of Taco Bell. You knocked on the door, and their manager let you in, and you walked in, standing outside the glass of where Tyler was recording some vocals. “Hey y/n!” Josh greeted happily.

“Hello,” you smiled. “I thought I’d bring you boys something to eat.”

“That’s really nice of you,” he grinned. “Thank you. Tyler should be done soon. We just finished recording my drums.”

“How’d today go?” you wondered, handing him a bag.

“It was a long day, but it was fun. We got a lot accomplished,” he stated. He took a peek in the bag and instantly smiled. “How’d you know my favorite order?”

“I know you guys,” you just laughed.

“Thank you so much,” Josh repeated. “You’re awesome y/n.”

Tyler looked around and you guys made eye contact, and he grinned. A couple minutes later he was done recording, and he got out of the studio, greeting you with a hug. “Hey y/n!” he exclaimed.

“Hi Tyler,” you chuckled. He released the hug and you handed him a bag, and he looked in, a huge smile spread across his face.

“You didn’t have to,” he insisted.

“But I did, because you guys deserve it,” you reminded. “How you feeling?”

“Tired, but we got a lot done, so happy,” he nodded slowly. “Good job, Josh.”

“You too, Tyler,” Josh replied.

“So what do you guys feel like?” you wondered.

“Maybe a nap,” Josh joked. “That sounds nice.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” you rolled your eyes. You argued with Tyler about driving until finally he complied, and you drove them both to your house, both of them in the back seat eating their Taco Bell and singing a silly song about Mexico. You, Josh, and Tyler had all been good friends growing up. While they started a band, you started your own business, however you still all stayed close. It was always on Fridays when you’d all get together and hang out, whether they were at the studio or on tour or whatever. Your job was flexible, and you were able to travel if they were a while away, and if not, you could always still Facetime them.

“Hey y/n, I had an idea,” Tyler piped up.

“What?” you wondered.

“How about we go watch a movie?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” Josh agreed. “I’ll buy.”

“You sure?” you wondered. “What movie are we even going to watch?”

“I don’t know, but let’s go. Come on, it will be fun,” Tyler begged.

“What time is it?” you inquired. “Are there even any showings left?”

“Of course there is,” Josh insisted. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay,” you agreed, making a U turn and driving to the nearest movie theater. You looked in your rearview mirror, sneaking a glance at the boys in the backseat, who were busy munching on their tacos. You pulled into the parking lot and they threw away their trash, and you walked into the movie theater, looking at the board.

“There’s only one showing left,” the employee sighed. “Sorry guys.”

“It’s fine. Uh, what movie is it?” Josh wondered.

The employee pointed at the marquee, and you all three looked up, staring at what it read. It was a horror movie, and you cringed, but the smile on the boy’s faces was impossible to resist. “Y/n, it’s a horror movie!” Tyler exclaimed. “That means a thrilling adventure filled with stupid screaming and really cheesy monsters and jump scares.”

“I think it would be fun,” Josh shrugged. “What do you say?”

“Let’s go!” Tyler grinned.

“You’re just saying that because I’m paying for it,” Josh laughed.

“No, really. I think it would be fun. Don’t you y/n?” he asked.

“Uh yeah,” you nodded, although you weren’t quite sure what you were getting yourself into. It sounded like something strange, and it wasn’t every day you would go to the movie theater with the boys, so you decided heck, why not. “Let’s go.”

“You sure?” Josh wondered. “It’s okay. I know you’re not always the biggest fan of horror films.”

“What am I? A crybaby?” you retorted. “I can put up with it.”

“Okay,” Josh chuckled. “Just looking out for you, y/n.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, giving him a small smile.

Josh bought you guys the tickets, Tyler got a large popcorn for the three of you to share, and you bought a couple pops for everyone, and you all entered the theater with a couple minutes to spare, Josh sitting in between you and Tyler. During the commercials, trailers, and previews before the film, you all tried to throw popcorn in each other’s mouths, acting like children. One of your favorite things about being with Tyler and Josh was the fact that you were always having fun, no matter where you were or what you were doing. They always managed to find a twist on life, make things seem better and bigger than they appeared, and there was never a dull moment between the three of you.

The movie began to start and you all calmed down a little bit, staying in your chairs and beginning to watch. The first jump scare made you stifle a scream, but you heard a pathetic feminine sounding yelp and you and Josh both whipped your heads around to stare at Tyler, who had just jumped in his seat and spilled the popcorn all over his lap. You and Josh both burst out laughing, Tyler’s face turning red but eventually joining in with the laughter, and then you guys kept watching. A few scenes made a shiver go down your spine, but when someone got murdered all of a sudden, you found all three of you accidentally let out a scream. Once there was a really good jump scare, and you practically fell into Josh’s lap, jumping up and falling on top of him, and you both chuckled, you mostly embarrassed. Another time Tyler jumped back, and hit his head on the seat, making you concerned, but he reassured he was just fine. The rest of the movie was filled with occasional yelps, screams, laughs, and also Josh almost falling out of his seat, but it was a great experience nonetheless.

When the movie was over and the lights came on, all three of you stared at the mess of popcorn and spilled drinks you had created, looking at each other and bursting out laughing. The ride home, which Tyler insisted he would drive instead of you, you three tried to guess who was scared the most. “Definitely y/n,” Josh chuckled, turning to you. “You almost fell on the floor!”

“Me?” you laughed. “You did fall on the floor!”

“How about Tyler’s screams though?” Josh reminded.

“Shut up, you were scared as heck too,” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Josh was just trying to be brave.”

“Whatever,” Josh shook his head.

“I thought it was fun,” you grinned. “I’d do it again.”

“We caused a mess though,” Tyler reminded.

“Yeah, but we always do, no matter where we go,” you admitted.

“So what do you think? What’s up next?” Josh wondered.

“Most places are closed,” Tyler sighed.

“Yeah, that rules out most things,” you added.

“How about my place? Since we’re already kind of freaked, how about we watch some Stranger Things on Netflix? Creep us out even more,” Josh offered.

“Sounds scary,” you cringed.

“Sounds like fun,” Tyler shrugged.

“Sounds like a plan,” Josh decided.

“Let’s do it,” you all three agreed. Looked like this night would be filled with a lot more screaming, laughing, but also tons of fun. There was nothing else you’d rather do then spend time with your two best friends in the entire world.

Idol life | Jimin, You

Part One | Part Two


We aren’t perfect. We will never be

You sat in the large black chair in front of the large mirror with bright flashlights lining the perimeters. Taking out your phone, you pressed the home button and it turned on, revealing a selfie of Jimin kissing your cheek and you crinkling your nose. You smiled at how cute it was but then a notification flashed on the screen.

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Roxy’s Romantic Troubles

theneonwerewolf asked:

(apologies if you already explained this but) What do you make of Roxy and John holding hands and Roxy blushing? It kind of throws a bit of a wrench in the JohnVris, although we don’t know for sure how John feels. Me and my friends are predicting that part of Roxy’s arc is that she will be heartbroken once again. What is your take on it?

Hoo boy. 

Okay, this is going to be a long one, brace yourselves guys. And it’s going to be brutal. Apologies to JohnRox fans in advance. I swear on my gravestone I’m not trying to hate on the pairing. Yes, I’m not fond of it myself, and yes, JohnVris is my OTP, but I make a conscious effort to not it let inform my meta stuff. It will probably come off that way anyway though, FML, I try.

Ahem.

To put it bluntly: Evidence is pointing towards JohnRox crashing. Possibly hard. 

See, here the thing. JohnRox isn’t even about John’s character arc. I’m afraid JohnVris has that honor. It’s about *Roxy’s* character arc. It’s about her growth and the undercurrent of ‘wanting to find a boyfriend to make me happy’ that’s run through most of her story. Anyone else see a serious issue with the bolded line?

That’s a genuine problem for her. She has this idea in her head that a relationship is the key to happiness for her. That’s why she desperate, and hits on nearly everything. Like her ‘flirtLARPing’ with the Auto-Responder, while suggesting Dirk should be ‘more’ like the AR because the latter is willing to indulge her.

This was actually a red flag of how this is a problem for her. During one of her first pesterlogs with Dirk, she makes it clear she’s not very happy with Dirk being gay since it means he’s ‘off limits’:

‘Too bad he’s gay’? Does that sound like something you should say to a gay friend? Like, ever? Combine with the implication that Dirk should indulge her flirting every now and then, and, well…

To be fair to Roxy, she does realize it’s wrong:

But that doesn’t excuse the underlying issue of just how much Roxy has put stock into the idea of a boyfriend/husband being able to make her happy. To the point that Dirk has this very telling pesterlog post-Trickster pre-God Tier:

Dirk here reminds me of myself in a scarily similar situation. I had this friend who was really nice, had a crush on me, but I couldn’t recepriocate ‘cause I’m aro-asex. He respected it, but as he tried desperately to look for a girlfriend I felt guilty that I couldn’t just fall for him and help make him happy.

We aren’t in touch anymore, but in hindsight, I realized I shouldn’t have had to feel that way. Repeat after me: *No one* is entitled to a relationship. Those who believe a relationship will make them happy are effectively saying ‘I refuse to take responsibility for my own happiness. I want someone else to make me happy.’ Going into a relationship thinking that is a recipe for disaster. And that’s kinda Roxy’s issue…

Another notable incident is when, in her first pesterlog, she (intentionally or not) guilt-trips Jane by reminding her that she’s ‘being a good friend’ by having declared Jake ‘off-limits’ on account of Jane being interested in him. Because she would be *totally* all over him if it wasn’t for that and you should be grateful I’m sacrificing potential happiness for yours:

Got a little snarky there, sorry. I’m not dissing Roxy here, okay? She actually ranks up there in terms of favorite characters. But the emphasis she puts on romance shows signs of being unhealthy.

Like during the moon conversation post-Trickster:

She acts like the non-existance of a lovelife is a horrible, depressing thing. While she admits how ‘pathetic’ it is, if you keep in mind she thinks love=happiness it reads more as ‘Am I not allowed to find someone and be happy?’ I sorta want to shake her and yell, ‘You don’t NEED anyone to be happy!’

We had another name for a character like this before Act 6: Eridan:

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Roxy is nowhere *near* as horrible as Eridan. But they have similar ‘romantic desperation’ problems. See the above conversation, where Eridan just sees Nepeta as the ‘kittycat shipper girl’ and Karkat makes it clear that was wrong?

We’ve already seen a similar problem with Roxy towards John. To quote:

It brings up a question: Does Roxy really see John as his own person, or does she view him more as ‘Jake, with some of her best friend Jane’ mixed in?

It does NOT help that during her FIRST conversation with John, Roxy was already thinking this:

‘Boyfriend material’? What happened to, you know, being *friends* first? How can she think something like that when she knows practically *nothing* about John? She wasn’t even really listening when he was telling her about himself!:

If the Vriskagram upd8 proved anything, it’s that Hussie knows his characters, and that he knows what he’s doing with them. Roxy is probably no exception. She and John have had only, what, three or four conversations? And just within those conversations, I’m seeing some pretty worrying stuff. Like:

John expresses that he’s uncomfortable with the idea that Roxy is technically the mother of his friends. Roxy doesn’t have a problem with it, but it’s still a concerning disconnect.

Combined with signs she views him more as ‘Jake/Jane combo’ then an actual person, and it really doesn’t look good…

There are a couple other things I wanted to address.

First, there’s a point in Homosuck where Caliborn addresses the various ‘badges’ God Tiers receive as they level up. And there’s one he mentions that EXPLAINS SO FUCKING MUCH:

Read that underlined one. Read it over and over until it sinks in. THIS is why JohnVris was our first ‘serious’ romantic arc. Because Vriska, by virtue of having climbed many, many God Tier levels, must have that badge! Allowing her to pursue a romantic interest in John without it being ‘awkward.’

Roxy, being freshly God Tiered with no chance to level up, doesn’t have that badge. And given the conversation here:

It’s probably fair to say John doesn’t have the badge either.

The second thing is, the whole ‘forced romantic arc’ seems to be a reference to Roxy’s Wizardly Herbert story, which lampshades the very thing we’re seeing with JohnRox now (the story building romantic tension between them quickly):

Underlined something important: The characters in the story weren’t very happy with the ‘forced’ relationship either, and decided to just ‘ride it out,’ implying that they *wouldn’t* be getting together despite the story’s attempts otherwise.

These scenes help further establish the parallel:

Here’s the thing: The point of the Wizardly Herbert story was that the romantic tension was built up quickly in a forced manner and it was AWFUL. Even the characters admitted such!

The Wizardly Herbert story is often cited as ‘JohnRox’ evidence, but I think that’s missing the point. And it strikes me as self-defeating since the WH story was lampshading and parodying couples forced together by the story. I’m just saying, the parallel probably isn’t a *good* thing for a potential ship.

The last thing I want to address: The ring.

Well, given the Wizardly Herbert parallel above…

And there’s something extremely important to remember. Remember WHY John gave Roxy the Ring of Life?:

Because he wanted to help her help her friend, Calliope. There wasn’t anything romantic implied about this. It was just John, in his usual heroic way, deciding to help someone in trouble. Roxy, however, seems to read more into it…

Know what I think? I think the ring is a red herring. There’s some real signs of trouble in JohnRox. Especially on Roxy’s side. Look at her blush. ‘Squee! I finally found someone! I can finally be happy!’ But that’s the thing. She knows precisely *zip* about John. And given how for her love=happiness…It really, really doesn’t look good.

If/When the ship crashes, it will be in service of Roxy’s character arc. She needs to learn that she doesn’t need a guy, or anyone else, to be happy.

Apologies for using your ask as a springboard for a theory post, Neon, but it seemed like as a good an opportunity as any.

Hope you enjoyed!

The Love Square: Chapter 3

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Ladynoir

Summary: She wasn’t sure when she’d starting falling for her partner, but the revelation one day made Marinette extremely uncomfortable.

Chapter One, Chapter Two

Note: Did you all enjoy the long cliffhanger I left? (I’m sorry) So after like, 5 days I’ve finally decided to post chapter 3. Not my favorite of the three so far, but chapter 4 is gonna be better, guaranteed. Enjoy!

When Ladybug opened her eyes, none other than Adrien Agreste was standing in front of her, and all she could do at first was blink. Adrien turned red under the stare of his partner, wanting her to react other than the surprised stare she was giving him.

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Prompt: Joe/Lady Joe!, first meeting

This is for Alison, who is the reason Joe exists in the first place, and asked me for  “ Joe finally meeting his girl.  (In my head she finds him highly amusing but loves him anyway.)”

That is basically exactly what happens. Also, I am remiss, Jake’s nicknames are J and Lady J, but that would be a confusing header, so.

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After you’ve broken up...

Harry:

I walk around the party absent-mindedly, my brain buzzing from the alcohol. My best friend, Michael, walks up to me and I turn to him and smile. “How are you doing?” he asks. I reply with, “I’m okay,” which I say a lot because I don’t like to lie and tell people that “I’m great” when I’m not. “What’s on your mind?” he frowns, “is it Harry?” I roll my eyes. “Yeah,” I sigh as a more emotional song comes on the speakers and I groan (aren’t parties supposed to always have upbeat songs?) “I saw him talking with a girl,” I say quietly. “Do you know her?” “Yeah,” I nod, “It’s his ex. Cara.” “You know they’re just friends,” Michael pats my back. “It’s not my business who he talks to. It’s his life and we’re not even together anymore.” Harry and I broke up because we can’t stop fighting and ever since he started his otra tour we hadn’t been talking and so we called it off. It wasn’t one of those “clean” breakups. He was very defensive and told me that he loved me about a billion times that night, but I explained to him that I simply couldn’t do it anymore and that I don’t believe in long distance. “She’s really pretty,” I sulk. “And so are you,” Michael says loudly, “And if you really want him, you should tell him that.” I look at Michael and purse my lips with sad eyes and fix my skirt before starting to walk down the stairs with him. As I’m walking down, I see Harry start to walk to the door alone. I instantly start to get nervous, my heart beating really hard in my chest and the alcohol starting to sting my eyes as if my tears are made out of vodka. Harry catches a glimpse of me, turning his entire head to look up at me walking down the stairs. The moment seems like it lasts forever, when really, it lasted less than a single second. He walks by the staircase and to the front door as if he didn’t even know who I was. As if we were strangers and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and I bite my bottom lip hard, trying to contain myself. I finish walking down the stairs and watch him leave the house. I immediately retire to the kitchen and take an entire bottle of vodka in a hand and gulp down the few shots that was left in it, knowing that I’ll never even have him. Not even as a friend.

Louis:

I open my computer and rest it on my lap, the apartment seeming incredibly empty since my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, moved out about a week and a half ago, leaving hardly a trace except for the smell of his cologne. I have hardly left my house in days. It was a really stupid reason why we broke up, too. He was under the impression that I wanted to move on because Harry, his best friend and my closest guy friend, and I were talking and he overheard us. He said he heard me say, “I don’t know if it’s going to work out. We’ve been in the same place for a while and I feel like I want something to happen for a change.” He thought I wanted to break up, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wanted to marry him. Now I’m left with a massive lump in my throat that’s been there for days and a cabinet running low on food, which probably means I should go to the supermarket soon and stock up on popcorn and soups. I search up “one direction interview” online and instantly an interview comes up, with the date saying it happened two days ago. I quickly click on it and turn up the volume. It’s pretty boring for the most part until the interview says, “Louis…” sort of somberly and I immediately chime in. “So… this is recent and if you don’t want to answer, you have every right… but you and Y/N recently split, am I right?” Louis looks up at her and shows his teeth with a sad smile and then it disappears. He doesn’t say anything and so the interviewer keeps talking. “but all the fans want to know why… I mean, you two were together for a pretty solid amount of time, am I right? You were such a lovely couple.” I bite my lip in anticipation and wait for his answer. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, wiping something out of his eye to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, uh,” he stutters, “We did recently… break up… I don’t know if she’d want to keep it confidential for now… so I think we should just honor the chances she doesn’t want it broadcasted…” My heart beats hard in my chest as I stare at him. “I respect that,” the interviewer says and he purses his lips and nods again and they just move on with the interview. Louis looks sad the whole rest of the time and I grab my phone, unlocking it and clicking on our text conversation. The last thing it read is “coming home now,” the night he overheard me and Harry and I click on the text box and stare at it for a second, thinking of what to write. I slowly type in the words “I love you” and then look at it blankly and raise my finger next to the send button. After a few moments of overthinking, I delete the letters one by one and close my computer.

Liam:

I walk to the backstage area, going to pick up Niall because he promised me a night out a little while ago. Niall and I had become really close friends since Liam and I started dating about nine months ago. I peer through the door, which is cracked open, but decide not to come in when I see Liam sitting across from Niall shirtless. I stand there and just eavesdrop a little. “You’re taking her out to dinner?” he asks and I know immediately that they’re talking about me. “Bro, just because you two split, doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends anymore,” Niall defends and Liam squirms a bit, resting his jaw on his hand and moving his head around a bunch with a sort of bitter look on his face. Then I accidentally press on the door a bit and Liam’s head whips around and we make eye contact. Great. Now I have to walk in. I open the door slowly and step partially inside. My eyes remain on Liam as he stares at me. “Hi, Liam,” I say quietly and then can’t help but smile because he looks really cute. He rests his head in his hands and then smiles faintly at me and my heart melts a little bit. “Ready?” Niall interrupts and I snap out of it and look at him. “Uh, yeah,” I nod and then look back at Liam. “See you around, Y/N,” he says quietly. “I hope so,” I whisper, kind of hoping he heard me.

Niall:

“I don’t know,” I puff out a sigh, looking at him look away from me, “I just think it’s time… you know?” “No,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know. In fact, I think it’s a very bad idea.” “You’re just… so busy all the time and I keep getting a bunch of hate and I don’t know how to handle it…” I decided to join him for his concert and when we were walking inside and a bunch of fans attacked me, called me fat and pathetic, worthless… and Niall did nothing about it. I don’t really expect him to much because there isn’t much he can do, but it’s just getting really overwhelming. Lost in thought, Niall snaps me out of it. “Y/N, what is this?” he asks, grabbing my hand and pulling up my sleeve a bit. I look at him blankly and then shake my head, tugging my arm away from him. “I’m going to be in the audience tonight,” I say, “I love you so much. I just need time.” “Yeah… the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing. I get it. You can just tell me you don’t want to be with me anymore.” “I do!” I frown, raising my voice, “I do! I just need to sort out some stuff. Niall, please.” He shakes his head, “unbelievable,” he utters and then starts to back away, turning and walking to the door where the other boys are. I walk to the A3 section, first row right next to the stage that the boys hooked me up with. I know I’m in view and the entire night I stand and sing along to the songs like nothing’s wrong and Liam, Harry, and Louis wave at me every once in a while and Niall avoids eye contact. He walks by to sing to this portion of the audience that he was ignoring because of me. I catch him look at me and I smile and wave, but he just runs his hand through his hair and walks the opposite direction, looking away and tears threaten to sting my eyes as I watch him continue to fake a smile and sing for his fans.

░ ❀ here’s a huge, alphabetized list of sentences from assorted television shows that you can use for ask memes!

❛ A girl can do anything she puts her mouth to. ❜
❛ A solution would’ve been birth control. Too late. Move on. ❜
❛ Actually, I prefer to be called ruler of all that is evil, but I will answer to Satan. ❜
❛ Age doesn’t matter. You can die at any time. ❜
❛ And you’re… Well, I’m sure you have a wonderful personality, dear. ❜
❛ Anything beautiful is worth getting hurt for. ❜
❛ Anywhere you go, I’m going. ❜
❛ Are you saying you don’t wanna get with this? ❜
❛ At least she had a husband to kill. ❜
❛ Back off, I’m starting! ❜
❛ Because what’s the point in them being happy now if they’re going to be sad later. ❜
❛ Boy, you are really not a morning person. ❜
❛ But if I keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair. ❜
❛ College is breaking my spirit. ❜
❛ Come back to me. Forgive me. I love you. ❜
❛ Do I look helpless? ❜
❛ Do you hear yourself sometimes? Like when you speak? ❜
❛ Do you think it’s easy for me to see you with somebody else? ❜
❛ Do you want ants? Cause that’s how you get ants. ❜
❛ Do you want me to have you committed or would you rather check yourself in? ❜
❛ Don’t be baby. I only sprain. Next one I break. ❜
❛ Don’t blame me for your sexual tension. ❜
❛ Don’t go out of town. Don’t go anywhere. ❜
❛ Don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. He is very dreamy. But he is not the sun. You are. ❜
❛ Don’t take this personally, but get out. ❜
❛ Don’t you want someone real? Someone you can scratch and sniff? ❜
❛ Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. ❜
❛ Dude, you fugly. ❜
❛ Every man has his weakness. ❜
❛ Everybody’s got it all wrong cause you and I both know damn well that you’re still in love with me. ❜
❛ Everyone I know is either getting married or getting pregnant or getting promoted and I’m getting coffee! And it’s not even for me! ❜
❛ Excuse me, when exactly did you lose your soul? ❜

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A/N: So this part is directly inspired (and also using some of the wording) from @scribefindegil‘s tags, which can be read here: http://reaganwarren.tumblr.com/post/137582251470/peekabooitsmiko-reaganwarren-an-okay ‘cause I reblogged them because I loved them so. They had captured Dipper and Mabel’s personalities so well in their tags that I genuinely don’t think I can write this part without quoting the phrases while still being in-character for Mabel and Dipper, but those parts are 100% scribefindegil’s words and ideas. My stuff is some of the detail-work and descriptions. Thank you everyone for being so receptive of the first part! And thank you, @peekabooitsmiko, for the fan art you had drawn of the first part! It was so cool! @pinesinthewoods @taccoman @aspiring-procrastinator (I am listening to Riptide by Vance Joy on repeat while writing this, btw, in case anybody was interested.)


Stan shooed Dipper up the stairs after Dipper had had his fill of left-over baked bread and milk, but Dipper was far from being able to go back to sleep. He grabbed the journal and peeked out down the staircase. He flipped through the journal as he kept an ear out. He could hear Stan trying to get Jimmy to wait for his decision about the deal tomorrow, that Dipper had been right and he really did need to go to sleep.

“I mean, there’s no time limit on this, is there?” Dipper could hear Stan say. He couldn’t really hear what Jimmy Snakes was saying in response, but it seemed that Grunkle Stan was getting his way this time.

Dipper closed the door, then hurried to his bed and turned on the light and flipped through the pages of the journal. Red glowing eyes, moving patchwork, red glowing eyes, moving patchwork….

Dipper barely registered that he was disturbing Mabel, but her moaning as he started to click his thinking pen repeatedly did get his attention.

“Dipper, what on Earth are you doing? Go to bed,” Mabel mumbled, rolling over to give him a rather pathetic glare.

Mabel,” Dipper whispered urgently, getting up and moving to her side of the room. He turned her light on and tried to show her the journal, but Mabel just moaned louder and rolled over. “This isn’t the time for sleep, Grunkle Stan’s in trouble!”

“Wha-?”

“It’s that Jimmy Snakes guy and -”

“Uuuugh, Dipper, c’mon.”

“Really! Mabel, I heard them, Jimmy wants Stan to do something for him that’ll get him out of some kind of deal, and his eyes glowed red, and the snake skeleton on the back of his jacket started moving, and he was buttering Grunkle Stan up with all these nicknames, like sweetheart and kitten baby, for some reason, and he’s up to no good! Mabel, wake up!”

It took part of a moment for Mabel to register what Dipper had said, and suddenly she was sitting straight up and looking even more awake than Dipper was.

“Wait, what was that last part?” Mabel asked.

“He’s up to no good!”

“No, before that!”

“He - He called Grunkle Stan cute nicknames? Like, sweetheart and stuff?”

“Oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh-oh-my-gosh, Dipper! Do you think they used to be boyfriends!?”

Dipper stared at her for a moment.

“What?”

But Mabel was no longer listening. She had gotten up off the bed and ran to the bookshelf, then pulled out her mini-Gravity Falls village and set it up in the middle of the room. Dipper raised an eyebrow, but he walked over to see what she was doing.

“How could I not think that Grunkle Stan might like boys too!? This changes everything, I have to re-do all my matchmaking algorithms! Oooh oooh, I wonder if Grunkle Stan would like the big buff black guy with the tattoos!”

Dipper just stared at her.

“What - ? Mabel, what are you doing!? How can you think of matchmaking at a time like this?”

Mabel gasped all of a sudden, then jumped up and grabbed Dipper’s shoulders, shaking him slightly.

Dipper, what if Jimmy’s here so they can get back together!?”

“No, he’s not, Mabel - !”

“This could be the matchmaking project I’ve been looking for! Dipper, this is fantastic, and they’d be so cute together! Grunkle Jimmy has a nice ring to it, too!”

No, Mabel! Haven’t you been listening!? Jimmy’s a bad guy! We shouldn’t try to re-create some kind of past relationship that I’m pretty sure you just made up just because you want to match-make somebody! He’s up to something bad, and he wants Grunkle Stan’s help with it - or the something bad is something he’s going to do to Stan!”

“Dipper, not everything has to be a big supernatural mystery. He’s just a guy from Grunkle Stan’s past who happens to be rough around the edges.”

Rough around the edges? Mabel, he spat on Grunkle Stan today - yesterday, I mean!” It was past midnight by this point, after all.

“You heard Stan, Jimmy didn’t really mean anything by it, it was just a biker thing. And Grunkle Stan has his own throw-up on his shirt, a little spit isn’t gonna hurt that tank top much.”

“Well, I don’t believe it for one minute! Jimmy Snakes has got to go, and if you’re not gonna help me, fine! I’ll do it on my own!”

“Dipper - !”

But Dipper turned away from her and went to his bed and huddled on it, the journal open in front of him as he faced his bedroom wall. The annoying pen clicking started again, but Mabel didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she went back to her matchmaking props. So if Jimmy was Grunkle Stan’s type, then she could cross out Old Man McGucket and Toby Determined….

Dipper tried to figure out what Jimmy Snakes could be. Possessed by a ghost? Maybe…. But what kind of ghost? At least a category 5…. But what if it wasn’t a ghost? What if it was something else? But Dipper just didn’t have enough information on Jimmy to have any idea. Glowing red eyes fit lots of different things, though admittedly most were not some kind of shapeshifter that could take human form. But how could Dipper be sure that they weren’t?

Dipper also couldn’t forget what Mabel had said. She was matchmaking behind him as he sat here, after all. Stan and Jimmy? A couple? Why would Grunkle Stan like a creep like that? Sure, Stan was kind of a gross old man, but that didn’t mean he’d fall for someone like Jimmy Snakes. Even if he liked boys, which Stan had never mentioned before.

But as Dipper failed to get any headway in his research, the thought wrapped itself around his brain until it was occupying his thoughts no matter what he did.

Sleep was very, very far away by this point.

Maybe it was because he was sleep-deprived, but his thoughts were making him sad, and his mouth started to tremble, no matter how hard he pressed them together.

Mabel was starting to feel like going back to sleep when she heard her brother sniffle.

She got up off the floor and went over to Dipper.

“Dipper?”

Dipper sniffed again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He then rubbed the back of his hand against his shirt.

“W-what if they were together and Jimmy was a bad boyfriend?” Dipper asked softly. Mabel furrowed her eyebrows.

“Dipper?”

“What if he hurt Grunkle Stan back then and now it’s just more of the same? What if spitting and saying rude things isn’t normal and Grunkle Stan just thinks it is?”

Mabel crawled up onto the bed and looked over his shoulder. She took the journal from Dipper, then dabbed the tear stains on the page before closing it shut.

“Don’t worry, bro-bro. If Jimmy Snakes is bad for Grunkle Stan, I, the Romance Expert, will be able to tell. If he really is bad, I’ll help you get rid of him.”

Mabel pulled up a bed sheet, then wiped up Dipper’s face with it.

“Let’s try to get some sleep before breakfast, and I can make some Mabel Juice in the morning, okay?” she said.

“Okay.”

“Awkward sibling hug?”

Dipper nodded, then pulled her into his arms.

“Pat, pat.” they both said.

Mabel then got off Dipper’s bed and went to her own. She watched to see if Dipper was actually laying down and curled up in a blanket before getting into her own bed and doing the same.

They only got about two hours worth of sleep before they were woken up by their grunkle.

anonymous asked:

Why do you say that you don't wanna talk about Zerrie lately? Tag zerrie shit as 'oh i didn't want to post that' etc?

It’s a bit complicated.

At first I didn’t talk about Zerrie [or Payzer] at all because I found them irrelevant to Ziam. And they kinda are, tbh, if you see the bigger picture. But then Zerrie became so stressful and we all had to make analyses about tattoos and engagements and pet zoos etc. etc., so I really couldn’t help myself.

Now it’s a different story. Zerrie is now ENTERTAINING. There’s nothing that stresses me out about it anymore, nothing that causes me to panic. It’s all just a cause to have a laugh and move on. But I feel bad about it cause even tho I’m sure Zayn and Liam themselves are way calmer about it now, it MUST be stressful to them. It’s still a bad situation with lots of mistakes and lies involved, so me laughing about it feels misplaced. And like - how many times can you laugh about the same thing? It all feels repetitive. The laugh of the day is ‘the truth Perrie knows about Zayn’. Yeah. That he’s Indian. Give me a break.

Plus -whenever I/we freak out about Zerrie or even just LAUGH about it, we still give Modest exactly what they want - ATTENTION! Every time we make fun of Perrie’s new shenanigans, we create buzz around her name. We may not buy LM merchandise, but we give hits to news articles about LM, we give hits to their interviews, we publisize LM for people who do not share the same disdain as us to actually look into them.

And LM WOULD deserve the attention, if only they tried a bit harder to conceal how bullshitty they are. They never practice what they preach, they act all empowered but then you have Perrie shaming people for their weight and appearance in general, we get reports of them being rude to fans, they seem to have let whatever fame they have get to their heads, and they are huge victims of their marketing campaign because the people who are trying to sell them have no idea what they are selling. I don’t know about them individually, but LITTLE MIX are not empowered, not feminist, not badass. They are four talented girls that are desperately trying to make it with the assistance of Zayn Malik [and yes – the other three hate it, and they may very well be feminist and fierce and all that jazz but they STILL participate in it, their image is still influenced by Zerrie and Perrie herself, ya feel?], because that’s what their managers decided for them - and they decided WRONGLY, but the girls are still trapped in that image.

I have gone way off topic but this whole ordeal with LM’s image vs reality is just sad. You can’t proclaim to be feminist and have a member who has struggled with her weight, and then have Perald say her haters are probably fat and smelly. You can’t proclaim to be fierce and flawless and then have Perald ‘decide to be native American for a day’. You can’t proclaim to be all about friendship and equality and then have Perald dominate music videos [Word Up is the Perald show feat. backup dancers], have people carry her bags when the rest carry their own. You can’t proclaim to be confident and loving yourself and then have Perald have several plastic surgeries before she even hits 21. You can’t proclaim to ‘need no man’ and then have Perald participate in a clusterfuck of an unhealthy relationship - that’s either as pathetic as a cheating show or as over the top as a study of desperation - that’s not even REAL.

Keep reading

Tired of pretending (Luke imagine) part 3

Request: 


A/N: There are no words strong enough to express how incredibly sorry I am for neglecting and abandoning my blog the way I did… I felt so pathetically uninspired and pressured and somehow I just gave up. 

But I’m back, and I hope you can forgive me and trust me again. I feel so much better and my writers’ block is almost completely gone! 

Also I want to thank all of you that are still here! Waiting and hoping that I’d come back. I don’t blame anyone who unfollowed during my absence, but I’m forever grateful to all of you that stayed <3

This imagine was requested ages ago and my plan is to work through all of the request I have left on my to do list, and then hopefully open up my inbox to new requests!  

Part 1, Part 2 

MASTERLIST

To do list… 


——


[Y/N]’s POV


When the concert is over, I linger by the front row fence, while everyone else heads for the doors in the back of the arena. I don’t exactly know what I’m waiting for, but I know Luke saw me. Maybe I’m hoping that he’ll come back out and talk to me, although I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen. Even if he wanted to, security wouldn’t let him because of all the fans still in the room. But I stay anyway.


Suddenly someone touches my shoulder and I spin around expectantly. The tall and wide figure of a security guard stands before me and I feel my heart sink to my stomach.


“Miss-” he begins with a scratchy voice, but I interrupt him.


“I know, I know.. I’m leaving!” I start to walk away, but he places his hand on my arm stopping me.


“I have specific orders to collect you and bring you backstage!” he says and my eyes widen as I stare at him surprised. The guard starts walking the opposite direction of the exit and I quickly follow.



When we enter the backstage area, my heart is beating so hard, I’m certain someboy might hear it. I swallow with difficulty, to get rid of the vile taste in my mouth – without success. We pass stageworkers packing all of the boys’ stuff into large trunks and bags, and they all look up with confused faces when they see me. I feel my face heating up. I’m sure what all these people know about me, or what happened between me and Luke but considering some of the nasty looks sent my way, I’m guessing they have a pretty good idea.


It feels like we’ve been walking for an eternity (it was probably just 5 minutes) when the security guy finally comes to a halt outside a simple white door with a small sign reading ‘Dressing room’ on it. I glance at him nervously but he simply nods before walking back the way we came. I put my hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath. I have no idea what to expect, but I guess there’s only one way to find out.


I push the door open and take a step into the room. Three pairs of eyes dart my direction and I freeze. Michael, Ashton and Calum all look at me with displeased looks, to say the least. To be honest, they look more or less furious, and I feel a lump growing in my throat. I was not prepared for this.



Calum’s POV


As soon as we hear the door open, Ash, Mikey and I ready ourselves for what’s coming. We’d been discussing what to say ever since Luke disappeared 15 minutes ago and now it was time to give [Y/N] a piece of our minds. I thought we had made it clear that we wanted nothing to do with her at my house this morning, but apparently she didn’t get the message. Coming to our concert with that sign was just unacceptable and it was a recipe for disaster – we were all sure of it.


[Y/N] freezes in the doorway when she sees us and seeing the confusion and fear in her eyes I almost feel sorry for her. She isn’t a bad person. She never meant to hurt Luke. But because she did, it was up to me, Mikey and Ash to protect Luke from her and that meant keeping her as far away from him as possible.


“[Y/N]” Ashton said after a moment of silence between the four of us.


“Where’s Luke?” she asks quietly, not looking at us.


“We asked Andrew to get you, because we have something to say to you” Ash continues ignoring her question. [Y/N] glances up from the floor, looking as frightened as a deer in headlights, but hastely looks away, twisting her hands.


“Did you really think it was a good idea?” I ask her gently, my sympathy for the girl in front of me taking over a little. She shrugs defeated.


“I don’t know…”


“It wasn’t!” Ashton’s tone is so harsh I can almost see [Y/N] physically flinch. I give him a quick glare for being so insensitive, before I speak again.


“We told you this morning that it’s too soon! Why would you do something like this?”


“I’m sorry I messed you guys up! I didn’t realize… I had to do something, you wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain, you wouldn’t let me see him… I didn’t know what else to do!” [Y/N]’s voice is barely more than a whimper and the tears are evident in her eyes as she’s blinking frenetically to hold them back.


“So you thought: I’ll just show up at their concert after 5 months with a big freaking sign that says that you want him back, right when he finally starts to get over you?” Michael counters sarcastically. [Y/N] doesn’t answer, she just looks at the floor and I’m pretty sure she’s crying now.


“You have to leave” [Y/N] simply nods at Ashton’s statement and disappeares through the door without even looking at us. After she’s gone the air feels heavy in the room.


“Did we… Did we do the right thing?” Michael asks finally. We all look at each other with uncertainty. Ashton nods his head slowly.


“Yeah… We can’t risk letting her back into his life. She’ll just hurt him again!”


“She left him last time we were away, and she’d do it again for sure!” I add, mostly to try and suffocate the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.


“She? [Y/N] was here?!” I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a heavy breath. Luke’s voice is squeky and worn out, but non the less equally panicked and hopefull. The three of us in the room turn around and face a puffy eyed, messy haired Luke standing right outside the dressingroom door. “Where is she?”


“She left…” Ash says warily. Luke looks down the hall in both directions then back at us.


“When?” he breathes, wetting his lips. He looks almost crazy. Like he’s ready to run a mile to find her.


“Luke don’t-” I begin but he precedes me.


“I have to! I have no choice. I love her” and then he takes off.


——


A/E/N: I just wanna say that all feedback is greatly appreciated, as usual. Like/Reblog and message me your thoughts!

I also want to apologize, I know this isn’t as good as maybe the previous parts, but I blame it on the fact that I haven’t been writing anything at all for a long time and it’s gonna take me a few tries to get back into old writing habits and finding my flow again. Okay, thanks for understanding! I lub choo guis <3

Reunited (Cameron Dallas Imagine)

Requested: can yu make a little story where Cameron and y/n have been friends since they were born and y/n had to move and Cameron never saw she again until she goes to magcon and he recognize her and yu can finish it off 😊😊 thanks 💚💚

AN: Thanks for the request melissalovesmars! I hope it’s okay that I used (Y/n). Hope you guys all like it! Remember anyone can feel free to request anything! Love you lovelies 💞

(Y/b/f/n)= Your best friends name

Italics=Flashback

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating. I rolled over and checked it. (Y/b/f/n) had texted me. 

‘Did you hear Magcon was going to be in town today!?‘ 

She was such a complete fan girl. I hadn’t told her yet that Cam and I used to be best friends. She would completely freak. 

“Come on (Y/n) just jump!” Cam said to me from the water. 

“Are you kidding me Cam!? We shouldn’t even be here in the first place!” I yelled down to him. 

“Oh stop it! You shouldn’t be an angel your whole life! Just jump!” Cam persuaded me. 

He was right. Although we were only 13 and probably shouldn’t continue to be trouble makers that’s just what happened being around him. I jumped off the dock and met him in the water. 

“See that wasn’t so bad!”

“Okay you’re right, that was pretty fun.” I said as I splashed him in the face.

That’s how it usually went with Cam. We always found a way to have fun. Although when I turned 14 my family had to move away. We both were heart broken when I left but over time we slowly lost touch. I started seeing him on different social medias. He joined Magcon and it was like I never existed to him. He was having the time of his life while I was missing him everyday. 

I texted (Y/b/f/n) back

‘Are you serious? You know we’re 18, we shouldn’t be fangirling over a group of boys.‘ 

‘I already bought VIP tickets for us. We’re going. I’ll be there in an hour.’

Fuck. She really was serious about this. I guess I was going to have to face Cam after 4 years of not seeing or really even talking to him. 

I sluggishly got out of bed and took a quick shower. When I was finished with my shower I walked over to my closet with a towel still wrapped around my body. What was I going to wear? I searched through my clothes for several minutes before deciding on a simple outfit that wasn’t too much but still cute. I don’t know why I was so worried about what to wear anyways. He probably didn’t even care about me anymore. Why would he? 

I heard the front door open, knowing it was (Y/b/f/n) since she never knew how to knock. 

“Come on (Y/n)! We need to go now or else we’ll be late.“ 

I honestly didn’t know what her rush was since we did have VIP. I took one last glance in the mirror, grabbed my purse, and headed downstairs. 

“Okay can we go already?” She asked me annoyed tapping her foot on the ground. 

“Yes, let’s go get this over with.” She gave me a confused glance but it quickly disappeared as I followed her out towards her car. I started to get nervous on the way there. It’d been so long since I had seen Cam, I didn’t know what to expect. 

“What am I going to do with out you (Y/n)?” His voice cracked, almost as if he was holding back from crying. 

“Cam stop it. We’ll keep in touch and make trips to see each other.” I said trying to make him feel better. 

“But your my best friend. How am I going to get away with being stupid with out you to help me?” He wined. 

“You’ll find a way Cam. Just think like me.” I gave him a sly smirk. 

I always knew Cam and I had a crush on each other. That’s just what kind of happens when you’ve been friends with someone since birth. We were attached at the hip. That’s why leaving was so hard. Even though we were only 14 when I left, we couldn’t imagine being away from each other. 

“(Y/n) what’s going on? Your shaking your leg like crazy.” (Y/b/f/n) stated. 

I hadn’t even noticed I was doing that till she pointed it out. I guess I really was nervous. 

“Oh idk. I guess I am pretty excited to meet them.” I played it off to her. 

“Yes! Finally! All I’ve wanted was to fangirl with you! This is going to be great!” She exclaimed. Oh god. This day is going to be horrific. 

We pulled up to the venue and already there was a ton of screaming teenage girls lined up. (Y/b/f/n) quickly parked the car and we walked towards the line. They were starting to form the VIP line since it was almost time to go in. I started to feel stupid. I didn’t want the first time I’d see Cam to be at a Meet and Greet. I felt so embarrassed. 

“Hey I have an idea. Come with me.”

She didn’t question anything because she knew when I had a plan it wouldn’t be something stupid. I pulled her arm and walked to the back of the venue where the tour bus was parked. There was a security guard standing in front of the doors. 

“Are all the boys in there?” I asked him. 

“Yes, they’re just about ready to enter the building. Do you need something?” He looked concerned but also that I was probably just another fangirl. 

“Can you tell Cameron Dallas that (Y/n) is here to see him. It’s very important.“ 

"How do I know this isn’t a scam?” He questioned me. 

“Go in and tell Cam, once you see his face you’ll know it’s not a scam.”

The security guard seemed hesitant at first but then went in the bus and left the door open a little bit so I was able to hear what’s going on. 

“Excuse me, Cameron Dallas, (Y/n) is here for you. She says in important.” The whole bus got silent. 

“No, there’s no way she could be here." 

“She’s standing right outside sir.”

I see a hand start to move a curtain at the window right next to the door. He peaks out slowly and once he sees me he closes it back quickly. 

“Okay I’ll be right back guys.” Cam said to all the people on the bus. 

He slowly walks down the stairs out of the bus with his face in shock. 

“Hi Cam.” I said as casually as possible. 

“H-hi (Y/n)." 

"This is my friend. She’s a big fan.” I motioned behind me. 

“Okay she can go on the bus and meet everyone. I need to talk to you alone." 

(Y/b/f/n) went into the bus closing the door behind her. Cam came up and embraced me in a tight hug, lifting me up a little bit. 

"I’ve missed you so much (Y/n).” He said into my hair. 

“I missed you too Cam.” I said as I pulled away from the hug. 

“W-what are you doing here?” He questioned me. 

“Well my friend told me you guys were in town so I decided I’d come with her." 

 wanted to tell him the truth. That I came here to see him. But sounding pathetic didn’t seem like such a great thing right now. 

"It’s been so long.” He said sadly while looking down. 

“Yeah I’ve noticed.” Sure maybe that response was a little bit rude but I was upset. Almost mad. He never made the effort to talk to me, just pretended like I didn’t exist. 

“It was just too hard (Y/n). I know we were young and all but when you left it hurt. A lot. And idk I just couldn’t push myself to call or anything." 

The sadness in his eyes made me so sad. I guess it was just as hard for him as it was for me. 

"Well I guess I could say the exact same thing. I really missed you Cam.”

A big smile grew on his face. He came closer and embraced me in another hug. He pulled away and grabbed my face with both his hands, just staring into my eyes. 

“God I’ve wanted to do this forever." 

I was about to ask what he was talking about when he slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. I had kissed people before, but it never felt quiet like this. He started deepening the kiss when there were loud noises coming from the bus. We pulled away and just smiled at each other. I looked at the bus and noticed some of the boys peaking through windows. Then they started to come out of the bus. 

"Okay lovebirds, Cam’s got a meet and greet to go to." 

Cam gives me one more hug while whispering in my ear. "Meet me here right after the show.”

And walks off with all the boys. 

Who Is This Girl? - Luke Hemmings Imagine

Requested? Yes!

Luke imagine in which he thinks a fan is cute, and goes on a hunt to find out who she is

(it’s from his p.o.v) enjoy!

“Hey, luke!” Ashton calls from behind me. I turn around, looking down at the older boy in front of me.

“Yeah?” I say as Ashton grins at me.

“The lads and I are thinking of meeting some fans before we head backstage. Wanna go out?” He asks, shoving a thumb over his shoulder and pointing towards the exit.

No matter how chaotic it may get outside, meeting fans is one of my favourite things. There’s nothing like meeting the people who support you, who love you, who appreciate your music. It’s wonderful to meet them, the least we can do to show our gratitude to these dedicated, wonderful people. So, with that, I nod, and follow Ashton to the door.

Once we’re outside, the heat of the sun beating down on my shoulders, my eyes squinting in the white light, I hear the screams, the commotion of the fans coming to meet us. The white light of the outdoors eventually fade into a tolerable dim, allowing my face to relax and smile at the on coming fans.

The commotion is typical. Saying hi, getting twitter handles, taking pictures. In all the bustle, though, I see a face.

Every other face is blurry, out of focus, moving. But this one girl. Her eyes are glittering under the sunlight, her hair shiny, falling loosely around her pretty face. She’s trying to push through some other people, a look of frustration on her face. But, the crowd sucks her back in, and soon she’s drowning in a sea of faces.

I try to make it look as casual as possible, turning my attention to that part of the crowd so I can make my way over to this girl that I can’t stop watching. She’s wiggling her way through the crowd until it starts to separate before me, making it easier to take pictures in an organized fashion.

A few smiles and clicks later, I’m nearly there. She’s watching me, excitement brimming up in her vibrant eyes, her soft, pink lips turning up at the corners.
I’m about to reach out when she’s bumped from behind.

“Dammit!” She hisses, her phone being knocked from her grip and shattering on the ground before her. I watch as her heart shatters along with it. We both stand there a moment, staring at the pathetic phone on the concrete at our feet.

“Here,” I say, diving down to pick it up. “Sorry about your phone.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault,” she waves it off, shoving it in her pocket. Her voice is sweet, gentle. She’s not making eye contact, no matter how much I duck my head down to try to be at eye level.

“Regardless, it sucks,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. I feel a tingle run up from my fingers all the way through me. Her eyes dart up to meet mine.

“Well,” she smiles. It’s breathtaking. “Now I can’t get a picture with you.” She turns the phone over in her gentle hands, observing the spiderweb design of the cracks, completely enveloping the delicate glass of the phone.

“Just take one on my phone,” I suggest before I even think about what I’m saying. “I’ll just… I don’t know. Post it on twitter after, then you can keep it.” She smiles again, her eyes beaming with satisfaction.

“That sounds amazing,” the words ease out through her lips. I smile down at her. Her face is beautiful. Her voice is soothing. She’s such a delightful height and presence.

I take my phone out of my pocket, reaching out to take the picture, leaning in to get both of our faces in the shot. One click, and it’s time to move on.

“Thanks so much!” She says, her voice slightly hushed. She’s skipping away from me and back through the crowd, dismissing me to move on to the other fans, phones out, ready to take photos.

And she’s gone. I don’t even ask if she’ll be at the show tonight. I don’t ask for her twitter or even her number. I didn’t ask for her name.

So, once we’ve met as many fans as possible, and we’re backstage again, waiting for the show to begin, I sit on the couch, completely immersed in the image of her on my phone.

“Dude,” Calum says from the other side of my phone. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” I glance up from my screen to look him square in the eye. “Why?”

“You’re frowning at your phone and chewing your lip ring,” he says. I am. I immediately release my bottom lip from between my teeth. “You reading hate? You know that’s a bad idea, bro.”

“No, it’s not that.” My words come out as a huff. “Just a fan I met. Can’t stop thinking about her.”

The boys all turn to look at me now. Calum’s brows are furrowed, Ashton’s got one eyebrow cocked. Michael just shrugs. 

“Then put on a hell of a show,” he suggests. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I didn’t see her in the crowd!” I shout over the din of the crowd on the other side of the walls. I had just put on one of the best shows of my life, and I’m not even sure if she was there to see it. I pull my in-ears off, untangling myself from the wires. “I give up.”

“Nah, buddy, don’t give up,” Ashton slaps my shoulder with his drum sticks. “Didn’t you take a picture with her on your phone?”

“Yeah,” I say, entering the door to the dressing room, slumping down on the couch. I grab my phone, opening it to the picture and turning the phone around so my bandmates could see.

“Luke,” Ashton speaks up, the corners of his mouth turning up. “You can’t give up on this one.”

“Just tweet the damn picture, Luke!” Calum says, walking away.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Hemmings,” groans Michael as he follows Calum.

“Okay,” I sigh, opening the twitter app. I type in the caption.

Posting this for a lovely fan I met today! If anyone knows who she is, help me find her!

I shove my phone into my back pocket, exhausted from the day, and follow the boys back to the tour bus.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I awake to the buzz of my cell phone, stuffed under my pillow. I sit up, my eyes tired, my body groggy, my skin still covered in sleep as I stretch the exhaustion out of me. As soon as I’m conscious enough, I grab my phone, ready to begin the hunt.

It takes two hours of scrolling through my feed. Countless accounts claiming to be her, it only takes a second of scrolling through their account to realize it’s not. Then, one tweet catches my eye.

@Y/F/T/N: That’s my friend, Y/N. She told me she broke her phone yesterday? 

I immediately reply.

What’s her account? I need to know. Thanks xx

“Luke?” I hear Calum above me. “You up?”

“Yeah,” I say, locking my phone and throwing the blankets off me. “Breakfast?”

“Mm, breakfast,” Calum groans, stretching out. 

We’re sitting in the lounge, eating cereal, when I can’t take it any more. I tried to have a normal conversation with Calum. About the show, about what we’re doing today, about how great Cheerios are, but my mind kept wandering to that girl. I’m so close to knowing who she is. 

“Just check your bloody phone, Luke,” Calum groans, clearly noticing my inner struggle. I smile, whipping out my phone. 

I stare at my screen for a second, looking at my mentions. 

@Y/T/N.

“I got her name, Cal.”

“What?”

“I got her name. Finally,” I grin. I panic, my grin drops into a frown. I stare at Calum, he looks back, confusion plastered on his face. “Now what?”

“What do you mean, ‘now what’?” Calum grunts, rolling his eyes and getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “Talk to her, you dumbass.”

A/N: That took sosososo long to write my apologies x 3000. Like it literally took so long to write I tried to go back into my blog to find who requested it, but I couldn’t find it it was SO FAR BACK. I’m stupid. But. Yeah. I hope you like it!!!!!!

xxxxx

I’ll forget what I’ve done, I will be redefined
A personal essay about Years & Years

(Content warning for discussion of depression)

I bought Years & Years’ album ‘Communion’ around three days before a depression that had threatened to arrive for several weeks hit me harder than it had for several years. It became the soundtrack to that particular bout of my illness, and my recovery, as well as the other side, where I am now. It would be corny and embarrassing to turn this into a confessional, but this record, and Olly Alexander’s voice in particular, felt so much like a friend to me during the summer of 2015 (I listened to ‘Communion’ every day) that I can’t help but align it very specifically to my personal experiences.

During the worst weeks, I had almost completely pushed away everyone that I cared about. I rejected all but the barest, blandest contact with my friends, my boyfriend, my mum. They knew what was going on of course, but I didn’t think I deserved contact with any of them. None of them felt real, it was just me and ‘this’. There was nothing else and I could see no future for myself – not in a nihilistic way, in a genuine, pathetic, banal way. I needed something to tell me who I was again, because I was losing that, and I couldn’t find the words myself.

I booked a holiday to Paris by myself because I needed to be somewhere where I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t speak the language and I couldn’t face the idea of being around anyone else for 3 days straight. I spent the holiday walking around Pigalle and Rome, looking at paintings, writing idealistic, indulgent, awful prose about beautiful boys I saw sat outside cafes and listening to Years & Years over and over and over again. On the last day, I walked through the station to get my Eurostar home, passed a billboard for ‘Communion’, and almost burst into tears.

I’m not going to go into huge detail or specifics about what it was that made ‘Communion’ the thing that I latched onto (as this isn’t a confessional). It was everything that I’ve already talked about – the longing, the dancing while crying, the tension between feeling in the moment and looking back differently. I saw my friend do a lecture earlier this week on symbolism in Victorian art, and one of the things that she talked about was how symbolism was about giving the viewer something to interpret, it was about the potential of the symbol rather than the specific, concrete meaning of it. I think that’s the magic of deriving meaning from music, too – it doesn’t matter why a certain song means the thing you want it to mean, or how you got to that point. It matters that it means something at all.

I wrote yesterday about finding it difficult to listen to ‘Shine’, and I think this is because on a record that described my feelings of confusion and self-doubt perfectly, it initially appeared too cheerful, too removed from what I was experiencing when I first starting listening to ‘Communion’. I often skipped it when listening to the album. But when I started to feel better, it felt more like a release and a celebration of vitality than a reminder of what I was missing out on, what ‘normal’ people were feeling. The line ‘I’ll forget what I’ve done / I will be redefined’ really helped me, as did the repeated ‘ooh ooh oohs’ when they reappear at the very end of the song, the bit that feels like coming out of a haze into the light. That’s so, so cheesy, I know – but after feeling nothing every single day for so long, taking solace in anything is a fucking miracle, and it doesn’t matter if it’s tacky or clichéd or just some backing vocals that aren’t even real words.

I’ve always been a fan of overwrought emotional art – I like Pedro Almodovar and Bas Jan Ader and the Romantic poets – but it all felt like it was from another time, a time when I was better. These books and films and songs felt like my friends, which is why I pushed them away. Years & Years was new and that’s why it showed me myself and let me get better. I’ll forget what I’ve done, I will be redefined.

‘Communion’ feels more personal than anything I could ever make myself. It feels so personal because it’s not showing me to the world, it’s not expressing whatever representation of myself that I want to show to others; it’s showing me to me. This is what you feel. This is what you have always felt. This is who you are, really, and what nobody else can know. The name feel appropriate.

Of course, Olly and Mikey and Emre didn’t ask for this, and I wonder whether relating so closely to someone else’s art is like an invasion of personal space. Isn’t it such a cliché anyway? A record ‘saving’ you? Pop music knowing you better than you know yourself? Popstars putting the words in your mouth? Isn’t that why it’s called pop music? Because it’s popular, it’s usual, it’s common, it’s what we all think and feel and do and see. It’s lowest common denominator. It tells us what we feel so that we don’t have to articulate it by making records ourselves. Does everyone else really feel like that too? It is showing everyone themselves, like it shows me myself? Does everyone feel like me? Am I usual, common, like everyone else?

I’ve never really, really loved anything that’s super super popular before. Pop music makes up the majority of what I listen to on the daily, and I’m a major advocate for pop, but the songs that I relate the most deeply and specifically to, the songs that speak my thoughts back to me, tend to be from artists who are popular but not million-selling, Radio 1 A listers – Elliott Smith, Owen Pallett, Patrick Wolf.

Years & Years are super super popular. I have to admit it is a new experience for me to watch them performing ‘Real’ or ‘Foundation’ or ‘Memo’ in front of a large crowd at a festival, and see everyone else singing along. All of those people – do they feel it like I feel it? The sensation of feeling a deep connection to a certain group or a certain song taken to the extreme is feeling like it’s just you, you REALLY get it, all these other people couldn’t possibly understand. When Olly Aexander looks down the camera at the beginning of the ‘King’ video, when he looks into the crowd, it’s YOU he’s looking at. It’s selfish, and you obviously know it isn’t true, but a part of you believes it.

This is part of the inherent competitiveness that exists in fandom, too. Who’s liked them the longest? Who likes them the most? Who likes them in the right way? This kind of thing is mostly associated with pop fandom, boyband fandom or anything else that’s enjoyed by teenage girls, and it’s evident in Years & Years fandom too – every post on Instagram and Twitter is followed by hundreds of replies and comments and confessions of love and pleas to be noticed and requests to play Poland/Chicago/Germany/etc again.

I have nothing whatsoever against these expressions of fandom, but I don’t feel I relate to them either, which is probably normal for a 28-year old woman. I’ve spoken a lot about duality this week, about the power of Olly Alexander’s performance and Years & Years’ music being in their ability to be one thing and the other at the same time. I feel that same duality when I go see Years & Years – when I’m in a crowd, dancing, enjoying it with everyone else, feeling part of a larger something, but also reflecting, and feeling a connection to it that’s so, so personal and specific to me. ‘Communion’ didn’t save my life, but it certainly helped me to live in it again as a fully functioning person.

(that’s my hand and my friend’s top hat)