Zayn by Mark Read

Product Placement

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.

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@dementedanarchy
Zayn by Mark Read
Zayn by Mark Read
Zayn by Mark Read
drunk me is the me i really want to be. confident, hilarious and, most importantly, drunk.
i saw a fake skeleton for sale today for $849 and i was like wtf i could get a real skeleton for free fuck that then i remembered murder is illegal
you’re all going to jail for reblogging this
headcanon;
the first time violet and the lost boys played a drinking game was after a really intense mission and violet was the slightest bit sleep deprived. so, when key said ‘take a shot every time--’, violet replied with ‘but at who’. and now, they actually turned this into a game (under the excuse of training); they’d modify a drinking game, and instead of taking a shot, they’d just shoot someone.
fist encounter; osprey x violet.
“Chat échaudé craint l’eau froide.”
That cup of coffee she had spent an hour trying to make while Dusk talked her into a headache worse than a hangover almost slipped from her fingers and onto the concrete upon hearing that phrase. It wasn’t necessarily the phrase that caught her off guard, but the familiar sound that she couldn’t recall, the fluent accent that she wasn’t used to. Hell, the last time she’d heard someone attempt to say something in French around here was when Luke walked around drunk, saying ‘I wanna go to the toilet’ because he thought it sounded nice.
A part of her felt homesick for the home that she couldn’t even remember in France. And yet, she ignored that part of her, couldn’t even be bothered to turn around and check who the intruder was. Not that he cared, anyway, for it took him exactly 5 heartbeats to invite himself over and sit next to her. His emerald hues stared back at her with a spark that she knew very well was insane enough for Rio to adopt, and a smile that she knew very well was just bright enough for Dusk to keep talking about.
Oh. So that’s the new guy. What was his name again? Osprey?
Osprey had managed to piss her off just 5 minutes into being called part of the group. That was a record. How did he manage to find her secret spot that fast, anyway? No one bothered to to lurk around the rooftop, except for Keith, and they had a silent agreement to share that spot together. Although, it was the best spot in the sanctuary. The view aside, it was designed to look more like a penthouse without the walls than it was a rooftop.
“So, do you say it because it sounds nice or do you actually know what it means?” She arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee, trying to hold back that challenging smirk of hers as he scoffed.
“If I wanted to sound charming, I would’ve just went for Dusk. I said Je m’en fou in front of her and she was swooning.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes oddly fond of her, to the point where it made her uncomfortable.“You don’t remember me, do you?”
In an attempt to match his description with her memory, she scanned him carelessly; tall, dark hair, green eyes, irritating confidence, fluent French—maybe she’d killed one of his friends in that last mission in Paris. Another sip of her coffee and her gaze was averted to the scenery, shrugging him off.
“Well, you,” he neglected her very obvious rejection and went on with his speech anyway. “—stabbed me. I still have the scar, right down my left side. We were both after the same guy. Russian, blonde, had one green eye and one blue eye, very clumsy assassin who just refused to die. Moscow. Anything rings a bell?”
“Ah.” She nodded her head, a chuckle echoing at the memory. “But why in the world would Rio hire a shitty assassin?”
There was a breeze of air that swirled her curls. The weather was nice, sleepy in a way, even the sun drowsily painted the sky as it rose. She could almost see the entire city from up here. He, too, was caught off guard by the tranquility of the atmosphere. It was nothing like inside the sanctuary.
“A scalded cat fears cold water.” He whispered, translating the phrase he had said earlier. “And I have a feeling everyone in here fears how cold you are, Violet Winters.”
do you remember this one
…the most beautiful paintings are those which you dream about when you lie in bed smoking a pipe, but which you never paint.
Vincent Van Gogh, from The Complete Letters
“I can’t remember the last time I saw an American movie where an American woman washed off blood in a shower and the blood wasn’t hers." - Haley Mlotek (requested by anonymous)
Who needs cocaine when human emotions can fuck you up just the same.
(via themeanbetweenextremes)
Tally by Brooke Shaden Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
; Going back
The first memory was the hardest.
Wait– scratch that.
It was the pang that he felt in his head. It was the pirouette that his brain took after it was over. It was leaning against cold gravel as he waited for his chest to stop heaving, for his breath to even out again.
It wasn’t the memory that was hard. It was facing it alone.
The first memory was blurry. He couldn’t figure out what it was or what was happening. It was just the sound of glass breaking and someone screaming his name in the distance.
It all comes back to him in flashes. His memory is always triggered by a certain object, a certain sound, a certain smell. But there’s always something related to it.
Car brakes screeching.
Him, Blaze and Key racing on an open road at dawn and laughing their asses off when they couldn’t agree on who won.
The smell of fresh graffiti on a wall.
Key focused on a painting in the middle of the night and Luke and Blaze threating to ruin with just one click on a spray can.
The taste of vodka.
The night they got so wasted they had to walk all the way home. Laughing, singing, swaying, and dancing in the street, barely managing to stand up straight. Luke clearly remembers passing out the second he saw the bed.
Starry nights.
Star gazing with Violet. She’d sit down and cross her legs, her eyes as wide and shiny as a kid who just got told he’d get the chance to meet Santa Claus. She’d point at each star and name it. Explain why it was blue, red, or yellow. Name every fact she ever knew about each planet, star, moon.
Police Sirens.
Endless nights getting chased by cops who thought they have a chance of bringing down the unbeatable Rio team.
But it just wasn’t enough.
He knew he was wrong to think he could do it on his own. He needed them. All of them.
He needed Key.
He needed Blaze.
He needed Rio.
He needed Alex
He needed Dusk.
And, he needed Violet.
He had to go back.