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ok but never have I ever

with things you’ve read in fanfiction 

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ok, imagine the niall interrailing while they’re on hiatus fic: traveling around with a backpack bc that’s “authentic,” his hair all dark because blond is too much of a bother to keep up with. sunnies or glasses depending on the time of day, because they help him feel less like the guy on the album covers and billboards, even though they don’t make him any less recognizable. taking his bum knee slow on long hikes, camping under the open sky or in a too-small camping tent thrashed by rain when monsoon season hits. the sunburn eventually fades into a tan, and by the end of it, he’s not quite the guy he thought he was or the blond one from that boyband; maybe he’s a little closer to the guy he could’ve been if the band hadn’t happened, and that’s a good thing. 

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No offence but this was five years ago today

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When a fic has both your OTP and your NOTP

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x

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@clarev

THE FORTY ELEPHANTS

The ‘Forty Elephants’ or ‘Forty Thieves’ were a London-based all-female crime syndicate in existence from at least the 19th century until the 1950’s. The gang specialised in shoplifting expensive clothes and jewelry worth thousands of pounds, dressing in coats, skirts and hats with hidden pockets to hide their loot. The women also used false references to work as housemaids and steal from their employers homes, and they blackmailed men after seducing them. 

They tried to live the lives of glamorous movie stars and the 1920s flapper society, giving extravagant parties, spending money in restaurants and wearing designer clothes (they didn’t wear the clothes they stole, but sold them) . The leader or ‘queen’ of the gang during part of the 1910’s and 20’s, the haydays of the gang, was Diamond Annie, called this because she punched people with a fist full of diamond rings. By this time most of London knew the gang, their raids were getting more fearless, and they used fast cars to get away. Diamond Annie herself was jailed in 1925 for taking revenge on a male crook, but continued leading the gang from prison until the 30’s. 

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He told me he’s afraid to die in Texas. Says the roads here go on forever, and he thinks he might get lost somewhere on I-45. He wasn’t a brave man, but he was a wise one. And I’ve noticed how that the brave men keep dying, and the wise men keep talking ‘bout what it means to be brave. He said “they call it heart-in-mouth, ‘cause your heart, at least, has the good sense to get outta there.” Now, I was never half as delicate or tender as I was supposed to be. And I am no wiseman, but best I can tell it’s us cowards who stay standing. It’s the ones who take off running who find their way back home. It ain’t profound, it’s a goddamn tragedy– that the best of us wind up buried and the rest of us go walking wild-eyed down the road.

The Roads in Texas, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

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""You can't love someone unless you love yourself first" Bullshit. I have never loved myself. But you. Oh god I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like. " pick an OTP any OTP

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all we do is drive (4004 words) by liquidmeasure

Zayn wants to drive, so they drive.

a small followup to you can drive all night, in honor of the plane definitely going upside down since I first posted it a year ago.

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I wonder if this is growing up. Waiting until I’m home again to press my cheek to the bathroom floor and cry. For the first time in a long time I don’t shove or shout. Don’t try to leave a mark. But I hope I do. I hope there are nights when he can’t sleep and he doesn’t know why. That there are songs that he finds himself listening to on repeat at 4 am when everyone else is asleep and he’s smoking a cigarette until he feels the burn of it at the filter. That’s where I am. Not in any photographs. Not in a shoe box of things he can’t bear to throw out. Things other couple’s have–cinema tickets and seashells. I am a name it hurts to hear. A bruise that will never heal. And I know this is growing up; being kind enough not to remind him.

(writeivywrite)-Keep the Car Running

(this absolutely wrecked me. I wrote it down in a notebook because I just can’t believe it.)

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El Cordobes, Nimes, 1965. Lucien Clergue (Born 1934)

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(1.8k of bday stuff. bc niall deserves better.) 

Zayn picks up the phone with a grunt. “What?”

“Why haven’t you tweeted Niall for his birthday? Did you text him?” Harry demands.

Keep reading

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ZOUIS, "Our embrace lasted too long./We loved right down to the bone."

a little bit of canon zouis set next year, about 1800 words… i love this quotation, by the way. perfect for them.

Keep reading

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$18,000,000/12 bedrooms

Brooklyn, NY

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“I was twirling Leonore and it was perfect life speed.”