The Only Thing Worth Remembering About From 2015:the rebirth of “Larry Stylinson” & watching them rise.
“Harry and Louis are the Stevie and Lindsey of the mermaid-tattoo-era stadium-rock eye-contact game. Louis’ eyes are dark, intense, controlling, with a surly "damn your love, damn your life” edge. Harry’s eyes say “I hear the darkness you’re expressing and it’s important to me but my heart tells me to twirl right now,” so he twirls and touches his hair. The brooding look vs. the beatific twirl. When one of them gets happy, the other gets wistful. When one of them gets bitchy, the other gets sugary. I could watch them sing together for hours. I could probably watch them do laundry for hours. (I doubt they do laundry.)“ - Rolling Stone Magazine (2015)
“Chibi Kenma is a clever, psychic setter. It can easily pick up on other Pokemon’s movements and just as quickly decipher a new play of attack with its sharp eyes and even sharper mind. However, this Pokemon is weak when it comes to video games because it loves to play.”
Warnings: smut , top!phil , originally written just for my friend’s eyes only so the first part is me trying to entertain myself writing (aka I wrote it as a joke at first but then decided to properly do it)
Summary:You know that live show where Dan sorta got turned on by candles?? The one where he’s like “that’s some great fucking candles, fucking, fuck me.” well, this is the aftermath
A/N I never intended to post this but I haven’t posted in ages (really sorry ‘bout that, I just didn’t feel up to it. like at all. sorry again) ((also this was saved on my laptop as “totally not phan smut” and my mother had to use my laptop for her teacher stuff for a week and I was so paranoid))
was chaotic. Noise, anger, and the horrible stench of death filled the air.
Nothing was okay. Eleanor was alone, and she had no idea where Thierry was.
This is not how things were supposed to happen. They were supposed to be
together, forever, throughout everything. Eleanor closed her eyes, and curled
up under the weeping willow tree where they were supposed to meet. A few nights
ago, she never would have imagined this could happen.
prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.
a/n: i think generally when i took this off schedule it was kinda because i was expecting not to be able to update it every week buT AS IT TURNS OUT i can get a lot done when i’m procrastinating revision because i stopped going to class and im literally home all the time ((’’’studying’’’)) apart from when i’m in for exams so IN SHORT after three days here is another chapter gOd i spoil u guys so much i feel like these chapters are gonna start getting shamefully regular arent they
also this chapter gets a lil emo i PROMISE IT WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING EVENTUALLY DONT THROW THINGS AT ME but i wrote this entire chapter listening to wrapped around your finger and beside you so the link’s there if u wanna u know ~set an atmosphere~~ or somethign
cash in the attic, dickinson’s real deal and bargain hunt are these auction shows always on daytime tv they have quite a reputation here in the uk (i think it’s notable to mention this for anyone who isn’t british) it’ll make sense when u read the chapter i promise
gone too quickly. Dan shuts his eyes. It’s gone way too quickly.
opens them again, taking in the sight of the skyline surrounding him until the
image is engraved behind his eyelids when he squeezes them shut again. He needs
to take it in. He needs to memorise every single detail before he’s dragged
away from it, leaving only a mere vapour trail in the Viennese sky as a remain
of his presence. He wants his memory of this city to be as permanent as he is
leans against the railings of the bridge, the iron cold against his cheek as he
stares down at the River Danube flowing beneath him; a weird, murky green in
the daylight. His eyes trail over the layers of beige, decorative
infrastructure surrounding him; studying the modern architecture against the
old, thinking about how two buildings can be as close as a matter of metres
together, yet centuries apart. It reminds him of London.
gives the St. Charles Church a quick glance, and St. Paul’s Cathedral comes to
mind. Schonbrunn Palace in the distance catches his eye, and he thinks of
Buckingham Palace. It confuses him how a city so architecturally similar to
London could be so atmospherically different.
stares back down at the river. Although even with a colour as cloudy as that,
it’s evident it’s probably still about nine-hundred times cleaner than the Thames.
He strains his ears. Even in the early morning, it’s still quieter in the city
centre than it ever would be in even the most distant outskirts of London. And
if he were to sit out on a bridge for this long in his home city, he’d be
surprised about making it this far without being either accidentally pushed
off, shouted at, thrown money at or whacked with a selfie stick.
going to miss Vienna dreadfully.
made a promise, he and Phil, to come back here someday. To revisit all the
places they’d discovered over the course of the fortnight, to stay in the same
hotel and even dance in the same ballroom.
sometimes calum would grab you and push you up against a wall, mouth coming down hard against yours as he made sure there wasnt an inch of space between the two of you. he would get rough at random moments, you never really knew when it was coming. he would carry you up to your bedroom and pin you against the bed; his hands working at removing every piece of clothing that was seperating your bodies while his lips sucked and bit at your neck. he wouldnt waste any time, and would have his fingers working on you, then his tongue and before you knew it he was pounding into you making you see stars as you screamed his name. you would fall asleep in his arms, only to wake up the next morning with finger sized bruises on your hips and hickeys that covered the skin of your neck. not realizing at first, you would try to get up but you noticed that you were too sore to walk properly. for the rest of the day you would make calum carry you around. it was obvious to the other guys why you couldnt walk, and they never failed to make comments about it. still, it didnt seem to bother calum because he had that same smug smirk on his lips all day