She Would’ve Been With Us… 

All my favorite Harry Potter bad lip reading gifs I have collected 

I’ve charted stars and they’re always constant. But these, they appear every year on my birthday. Only on my birthday. And I can’t help but feel that they’re… they’re meant for me. ↳ TANGLED (2010) dir. Nathan Greno, Byron Howard

run, run, here i come…

Oh woah

Omfg I love he’s a fan boi

ag! reader on her sweetener/tun tour with Tom in the Front row and She’s constantly interacting with him and talking/ holding hands stuff

Thank u!!!!

hope you like this ;) here’s a pic of the stage for reference (for my non-ari familiars) <3

wc | 1.3k

see u soon

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

“Ladies and gentlemen,” You smile, adjusting the microphone that’s attached to your head. You glance down towards the front of the mosh pit where Tom is located, and you smile a little wider. “And Tom,” you add on quietly, sparking hundreds of screams and cheers. “Welcome to the Sweetener World Tour.”

As the first Act of the tour goes on, you sing your heart out during “bad idea” and “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored.” As you head backstage for an outfit change and a short interlude, you’re heading back up a bit earlier than usual, having rushed into your next costume so you could interact with the crowd a little more. No doubt, in less than two minutes, your band will be ready to start again, but for now, you enjoy the cheers of excitement that get louder the closer you get towards the front of the stage.

“Hi, everyone!” You say softly, sweetly, giggling into your microphone. You successfully make it to the end of the stage, pausing to gauge the crowd’s reaction and truly take in the sight before you. It’s beautiful, really. “Thank you all for coming. How’re we all doing tonight? We having fun?”

Screams of assurement go around and it’s enough to spark another giggle out of you. You lock eyes with Tom, and almost subconsciously, you walk over to the left side of the stage where he’s at the barrier, by a staircase that leads to the center of the mosh pit. There’s a platform in the middle of the pit where you will eventually perform later in the night, and Tom’s in practically one of the best seats in the entire stadium.

Realizing the space that’s set between the stage and the crowd, you decide to sit on the edge with your legs dangling down off the platform. The security guard moves to your side, watching your safety. You smile at him, reaching for Tom’s hand. He sports a blush, hand connecting with yours and interlacing your fingers.

“Hi, baby,” You say into the microphone. Murmured “aw’s” and cheers go around again. “Everyone say ‘hi’ to my baby, Tom.”

Tom scrunches his face up in that cute fashion, and you chuckle again, admiring his adorableness. Your fans comply, sending their greetings towards Tom, whose blush has grown a cosmic amount.

You pull the microphone away from your face for a brief moment, sending questions towards the Brit’s way. “You’re alright? Need anything? Water?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile, body against the metal barrier that separates the two of you. “I’m alright. How’re you, Ms. Pop Star?”

You giggle again, this one making it through the speakers and echoing in the large venue. “‘M good.”

Glancing behind you, you realize you still have some time before you’re due on stage again, to sing, that is. Standing up, you send Tom a kiss, one he pretends to catch & pocket. The action catches the eye of a few people — and their cell phones. It’s on twitter in less than a minute.

“Oh-em-gee,” You smile, “We should take a selfie. Should we take a selfie?” You look to your front rowers, who nod enthusiastically, and you grab your cell phone from the crew member that conveniently brought it up for you. “Okay, okay, everyone smile.” You hold the phone up, with you in frame, and you snap a selfie of the entire stadium.

You spin around, walking back over to Tom and capturing a few pictures and videos with him, some of which happen to make it onto your Instagram story. Walking to the center of the stage, you hold your phone up, ready to record.

“Okay, I’m gonna take a video of you all. My sweet, babies, my lovely fans. Everyone get ready to scream.” You’re about to record when you stop, “Wait, should we scream something? Like a lyric?” You laugh into the microphone, a bit indecisive. “I’m a lost cause, honest to god.” You giggle again, something that makes Tom’s smile widen. You walk back over to him.

“Tommy? What should we say? Simultaneously, that is.”

He hums, and you scoot closer to the edge, shoving the pink microphone towards his lips. He chuckles and the microphone catches it, sending it through the speakers. You giggle again.

“Maybe… god is a woman?”

“Ooo,” you bring the mic back, sending Tom another kiss before standing upright. “What do we think? Is that aesthetic enough?”

After a few beats of supportive cheering, you hold up your phone again. “Everyone say ‘god is a woman’ on three, ready? One… two… three!”

It’s a magnificent sight, what you get. The joint voices of your fans goes through your ears, sending shivers up your spines and tingles down your arms. Goosebumps rise on your arm while you end the recording. “Honest to god… honest to god knock me out. That was the coolest fucking thing ever.”

The crowd laughs, something you can hear clearly, and when you turn around, you realize your band is back and ready for action.

“Back to the show, babies,” You frown enthusiastically before running towards Scotty, your choreographer. You hand him your phone while the intro to “R.E.M.” begins.

“Love you, Tommy,” You slip out.

This song is to be done on the floor, alone while the backdrops and digital designs take over and stun the crowd to a high level of impression.

All the while, you’re singing while making eye contact with your London boy. Tom’s silently singing along — a rare occasion for him to sing in public where anyone can record him and upload it.

“Last night,” you sing, “When I was asleep… boy I met you, yuh.” You chuckle, cutely, into the mic again. When the lyric pops up, you can’t help but smirk. “Excuse me, Tom.” You replace the ‘uhm’ with your sweet boyfriend’s name, turning the mic towards the audience for them to finish the lyrics.

The night goes on like that. During “NASA,” you gather, with your dancers, around the edge of the looped stage, holding hands with the fans. When you perform “everytime” on the platform in the center of the pit, you grab Tom’s hand while passing the small set of stairs he’s located by. You do it every time, making sure to at least get a sliver of his fingers. It makes his heart giddy, fills his stomach with butterflies, and makes his eyes love the sight of you even more.

“Before we end tonight,” You pant into the mic, having just performed a song & dance right before the ending act — thank u, next. “I just wanna say, thank you so much for coming, for being here, for supporting me, for listening to my music and being here. Especially thank you to Tom,” You turn to him with your lip jutted out a bit, smiling through an exhale. “For being my number one supporter for all the days and, hopefully, the many more to come. I hope you enjoy this last one,” You smile. “We’ll be right back for ‘thank u, next.’” You smile again, nodding and waving.

You catch sight of Tom, who’s looking at you with such a loving expression that you can’t help yourself. Your feet move before your brain can protest, and you’re running towards the stairs, leaning over the railing just a bit. You’re on the third step, pulling Tom in for a kiss you couldn’t wait for. Slightly, you can sense people are recording, and you smile into the kiss. Tom has to stop himself from moaning aloud.

“See you soon,” you whisper before running off with your backup dancers, finding your way backstage for one final time this night.

Liammmm..... Sometimes I just sob over the fact that I love him, and the rest of one direction, yet I will probably never meet them

Sobbing incredibly loud

we made it

Anyone remember these? I love the things that I can do with them ;)

When I grow up I want to be Ming-Na Wen.

smile, darling: tom holland one-shot

a/n | was quite proud of myself for thinkin’ up this 1. also i’d like to get paid for taking pictures of tom please. screw the college degree. lengthy one shots are starting to become my staple huh

- anyway i’ve been feeling really burnt out lately so i’ll probably be taking a little writing break after this ♡

summary | tom holland is completely over paparazzi, tracking and exploiting his every move. that is, until he runs into one that he just can’t help but smile for.

cw | tom x paparazzi!fem!reader. language, alcohol use, a classic meet-cute, angst, relatively vanilla shower sex, fluff for days. 5.6k words.

pov: tom

The blinding flashes of old-fashioned bulb cameras were never a phenomenon easy to get used to.

He’d cast empty smiles, try to drown out the noise of the crowd of reporters as he whisked by. There was never a way for him to get out of the hubbub fast enough.

When he did take the chance to look around the sea of paparazzi, it was blurry nameless faces; people he didn’t know who were only interested in selling him to the media. As if the internet didn’t already have enough pictures of him being a celebrity, being the center of any and all attention, even occasionally trying to be a normal person. But he never got very far with that—it’s simply unnatural for someone to be the focus of a picture when they’re just trying to buy a cup of tea.

Wearing sweats out for a jog became a fashion statement, hugging an old female friend became a scandal. These people were relentless, squeezing every little bit of life out of him to meet a quota. Turning him into an object, a subject, pretty much everything under the sun except human.

One face he picked out from the usual crowd was different, though—younger, prettier, less chaotic. She was happy to be in the back of the swarm of cameras, oftentimes missing the perfect shot because she was just watching—her camera pointed toward the ground. She tried to see life before her through her own eyes and not the pupil of the lens. He noticed her at the events she attended, but never gave her a thought past the millisecond they made eye contact. That is, until they locked eyes for more than a split second; when she singlehandedly saved his sorry ass.

pov: you

You didn’t like your job.

You had gotten into photography to capture the beautiful stillness of nature, to be able to stare at the subject of your photo for hours on end and still get the perfect shot after basking in the reality of it for long enough. But dreams mostly stay dreams, and when you were offered a job as a photographer for a tabloid, you swallowed your pride and accepted. Dreams are wonderful and all, but they can’t pay your rent.

So you resigned yourself to capture the opposite of what you wanted—chaos, crowds of thousands, movie stars moving a mile a minute. You got enough content to keep your position, but you often found yourself trying to take in the essence of the scene before getting the perfect shot, and by then, the celebrity in question was gone. Your life had become a whirlwind, and all you wanted to do was stand still.

So, the day you were stationed outside of the hotel in Atlanta, told by your boss to keep your feet planted on the nondescript side street until you saw anyone of importance walk by, you were thrown off when the star of the movie came out of the doors to the service entrance with flask in hand and bags under his eyes, completely unaware that you were standing there. He flicked a burnt cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it, taking a swig from his canister. When he turned his head and saw you, you had your camera pointed directly at him; and to put it lightly, he freaked the fuck out.

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