under streetlights

I want a girlfriend and I want to hold her hand and walk with her and kiss her under a streetlight as the snow flies around us and I want to lend her my jacket when she’s cold or borrow hers it doesn’t matter I just wanna share clothes with her and I want us to build snowmen and make snow angels and celebrate Christmas together and get each other gifts even though we didn’t agree to do that and drink hot chocolate and share cute kisses under mistletoes and wear oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks and have lots of blankets and cuddle and be really soft and I just really want a girlfriend to keep me warm during winter is that too much to ask

i. five a.m. dreaming out the windows, eyes open and doors unlocked. chopin’s nocturnes on repeat as if i can somehow fill this cavity with moonlight in the form of a song.
ii. tell me, have you ever felt like a thousand pieces of a thousand people all at once?
iii. this is a lullaby, or perhaps an apology to myself. i’ve forgotten what it means to sleep without the flutter of your heartbeat next to mine.
iv. sometimes i feel like a dozen tectonic plates always shifting, never at rest. there’s a chasm between my ribs and i named it after you.
v. friday night dancing under the streetlights, a song in my throat as i build myself up from the ground. still learning how to pick myself out of the shipwreck, still learning to accommodate the fracture lines across my skin.
vi. i am the thousand people i’ve been before, i am the thousand people i have yet to be. i am learning to love every one.
—  after the earthquake | a.c. for @existential-celestial | want one?

Summary: Sam and Dean reassure each other after their visit home. Takes place directly after Home, 1 x 09.

Warning: Wincest, some smut, feels

Word Count: 1100ish

A/N: I just needed some codependent boys today. Enjoy! XOXO

Dean stays quiet as they drive away. They don’t talk about anything that Missouri said, or the fact that Mary had been there. They don’t talk about anything, really.

Sam watches Dean, his face in alternating light and shadow as he drives through the night under the streetlights, and wonders what memories he’s lost in. Sam’s lucky. He doesn’t remember that house or their mother. But Dean does. This trip had been hard for Sam, but it’s probably devastating to Dean, and of course he won’t talk about it. He’s just gonna sit there in the driver’s seat and glare at the road until he can pretend he’s fine again.

Keep reading

Frozen Love (Jack Frost x Reader) Part VIII

Jack stopped by Burgess, deciding to add more snow to the winter wonderland he had already created. Inside his pocket, there was a quiet tinkling sound. Tooth had given back Jack (Y/N)’s tooth case. She claimed if he had managed to find her, perhaps he could show her the memories and let her remember.

It was a hopeful thought, and helped Jack keep going. It had already been a week since he had first started searching for her, finding her proved harder than it sounded. As he was flying over the city, he noticed a figure dart by on the rooftops.

Curiously, he dropped to the ground and decided to follow it.

Keep reading

170311 1st concert ace of angels in seoul


  • 01.  INTRO + Excuse Me
  • 02. 사뿐사뿐 (Like A Cat)
  • 03. 짧은 치마 (Miniskirt)
  • 05. OH BOY
  • 06. 빙빙 (Bing Bing)
  • 07. CHANMI Solo - RAP+DANCE: Go Hard or Go Home [Iggy Cover]
  • 08. HYEJEONG Solo -  꿈처럼 (Like A Dream) [Ben Cover] + 피어나 (Bloom) [Gain Cover]
  • 09. MINA Solo - 24시간이 모자라 (24Hrs) [Sunmi Cover]
  • 10. LILY
  • 11. Cherry Pop
  • 12. 단발머리 (Short Hair)
  • 13. 가로등 불 아래서 (Under The Streetlights)
  • 14. TIME
  • 15. SEOLHYUN Solo - Formation Remix [Beyonce Cover[
  • 16. CHOA Solo - 아끼지마 (Don’t Be Shy)
  • 17. YUNA Solo - Beautiful [Goblin OST, Crush Cover]
  • 18. JIMIN Solo - 자작국 (Hey) [Original Composition]
  • 19. GET OUT
  • 20. Good Luck
  • 21. 흔들려 (Confused)
  • 22. BOY GROUP REMIX (BIGBANG - Bang Bang Bang + BTS - Boy In Luv)
  • 23. 네때문에 (Help Me)
  • 24. ELVIS
    25. AOA + WITH ELVIS
    26. LUV ME
    27. 심쿵해 (Heart Attack)

( © setlist )

When Alec and Magnus go to Pandemonium, they stand with glittered cheekbones and pigmented eye shadow glowing under the streetlights, clothes fitting in just the right ways; fingers adorned with rings as the two walk hand-in-hand, drawn together like water and fire.

And previously that night, when Magnus did Alec’s makeup with soft brushes and even softer hands, he kissed each of Alec’s eyelids as if a seal to keep them closed while he worked. When getting dressed, both were pressed together in a mess of ill-fitting shirts and uncomfortable pants, the bed covered in a mix of blues and golds and greens. Alec’s arms wound around Magnus’ waist as he buttoned his shirt, leaving it mostly open; Magnus holding Alec’s hands still as he pushed rings onto each finger, foreheads pressed together, small comments making them smile.

Upon their entrance, bright lights flash, unknown bodies press tightly to one another. Alcohol rolls lazily around glasses. Smoke goes clear, floats to the ceiling.

And while Magnus feels at home, Alec feels free.

So he follows Magnus onto the floor, and they dance, all raised hands and smirks, hips swiveling, hands always connected, bodies pressed close, breath ghosting across exposed skin.

Alec crosses the floor to order drinks with a confidence previously undiscovered, leans across the counter with the knowledge that he has somebody to return to. The bartender compliments him, gesturing to his eyes, and Alec grins; thanks him. Tells the bartender that his boyfriend did it for him.

But while he waits, the music changes, along with the atmosphere; the previously loud, rebellious tones are replaced with something lighter, jazzy; a bass line sticks out among the noise and the mood of the building immediately shifts. The group becomes a sensation of clapping, laughing, people spinning their partners toward the centre. Shirt collars are turned up and skirts spin, leaves shadows on the floor.

With two glasses in hand, Alec returns, and spots Magnus’ back to him, first, golden streaks radiant under the multicolored light.

Alec watches him with a sense of pride, as if to say: Of all the people, in all the world, he chose me. He thinks back to earlier that evening, the fuss he’d  had made about all this, this partying business he had no real belief he’d enjoy.

(‘I promise you, you’ll love it,’ Magnus smiled, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into Alec’s arm. ‘And if you don’t, we always have a backup plan—I haven’t fully introduced you to the wonders of mundane television, yet.’)

Magnus spins around, all elegance, and spots him.

Something nudges at Alec to leave down the drinks, and he does so. Magnus approached him, all exaggerated movements and wide smiles.

And when they meet halfway, there is no time for conversation, as Magnus is grabbing a fistful of Alec’s shirt in his hand and is pulling him back onto the floor, shoulders rolling to the beat, and his step seems to follow suit.

So Alec’s usual judgement is overtaken by the fluidity of Magnus’ movements, and he joins in. It is not perfect, it’s not as free-flowing, but neither seem to mind. They lock hands, stretching themselves out, spinning around, and pulling themselves back in again, close; Magnus’ hand sneaks into Alec’s hair, and Alec is clutching at the back of Magnus’ shirt.

So when their lips meet, it is not a showcase. The dance still goes on. People swirl around them, never interrupting.

It serves as a promise; these days of glitter and smoke are not yet over, no matter what boundaries of mortality lie in front of them. When their bodies slide together, move as one, it is an affirmation that their feelings are real, that their inevitable doubts can be pushed aside.

It is a way to prove that Magnus and Alec, together, are as free and triumphant as they want to be.

You’ll let him leave because you think he’ll come back. you don’t try to stop him because you think that’s what he wants. but it’s been a week and he hasn’t shown up at your door yet and you are beginning to question whether or not he will. you can’t remember how long it usually takes for him to return to you and your hands shake every time you think about it.

this hurts and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but he won’t drive to your house at 2 a.m and knock on your window and kiss you like he always should have. he won’t sneak out of his bedroom to meet you under streetlights and you won’t get to hold him again.

he’s gone.
you think that this is just like the other times but it isn’t. he won’t come back.

he won’t come back.

—  I want things to get better and they can’t if I’m still waiting for you– Lily Rain

What I really want to read is an lgb/non het centred fic which doesn’t pretend that all is right with the world and homophobia has simply vanished.

I want to read about stolen kisses behind locker room doors, about breathless and exhilarated laughter about what feels almost like their own little secret, a treasure. I want to read about suspicious parents and strange looks and the glares that you get in the street, and about feeling like you’ll never be close to happy as you are, and about triumphing above people who tell you so.

Then, kisses under streetlights in the rain out in the open, rainbow crests splayed across chests, chanting mottos into the dark and standing up and getting past the feeling that you’re broken, that everybody around you knows it. Hands clasped in the open and easy laughter and casual kisses and feeling like, bit by bit, you’re changing the world

Let me tell you how being in love in Brooklyn has me seeing my city in a whole new light. New places to explore and get lost in, random adventures in the street, making friends with strangers on the street, kisses under streetlights

Last night was a dream

SOOOO @llljjj, @yousoullessfuck and I got together for a yu yu nerds doodle day. Basically we ate food, laughed our way through amazing and terrible doujinshi, chatted about tumblr posts and fanfics, listened to lots of YYH music and drew each other random hilarious art lolol (it’s almost like a warmup for @yyhbb lmao)

Above are the fruits of our productive labour!!

Art by me: Treasure troll Hieis (credit to @yousoullessfuck for the inspiring inspiration), Kurama with a tiny grow op Kurama (this was a running joke during our doodles…), “photo taken by Kurama”, watercolour Kurama

Art by @llljjj: Yusuke’s ramen, Yusuke with Puu, angry tiny Hiei (it’s hard to see in my photo but there’s also a faint pencil drawing of a little plant-summoning Youko Kurama going “hehehe” in the bottom right)

Art by @yousoullessfuck: Yusuke NO OLD KINGS tattoo, Yusuke and Hokushin, Kurama and Yusuke meeting under a streetlight… lmao

Can’t wait to do it again~!


prequel to this bangdae au     wmu!daehyun character study

It’s past curfew, and the streets lay empty. Daehyun keeps to the shadows, sliding along the walls like a cat. Shadows are a bottomless darkness under the white streetlights. He makes it off the main street, and continues toward the outskirts of town. If the Fingermen show up, he knows how to run. Has been running all his life.

Through a hole in the fence, there’s an abandoned building—a palace in broken concrete. He comes here often; to breathe, to exist. Lying on the cold ground, he feels safer staring up at the moon through the roof surrounded by stone pillars, than he does in his own home. Even though he’s risking what little he has left in this world by going out at night, it’s worth it.

Because out here feels like the real world, and the city with all its corruption is the nightmare. He doesn’t come out here just to be rebellious. He comes here to wake up.

“You’re back,” a voice says, deep like thunder. “Again.”

Daehyun jolts, propping himself up on his elbows. Stepping out from behind one of the stone pillars, a man emerges from the shadows. For a split second Daehyun thinks about running, but the stranger doesn’t look like the men he usually runs from. He doesn’t look like anyone Daehyun has seen in a long time.

He looks awake.

“What, you’ve been creeping on me before?” Daehyun asks, making no move to get up.

The man scoffs, but it doesn’t have much mirth to it. He leans back against the pillar he just appeared from, hands in his pockets. His gaze stays with Daehyun, and the raw intensity of it makes something hot coil within Daehyun’s gut.

“Guess we both just use the same place,” the man rumbles.

Daehyun frowns. “For what?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of the stranger’s mouth.


The Things Unsaid (bughead)

(Hello! I wrote this on my phone so little editing, sorry if there are mistakes and it’s not the best. Angsty Bughead fic that could have a part two if you guys want it)

Only fingertips apart. So close but yet so far. The unforgivable distance seems to widen with each breath taken. Her fingers shake. She twines her hands together to hide her discomfort at this moment.

“Why-” her voice breaks, “why didn’t you tell me?” Blonde hair like a golden halo glows under the streetlights, illuminating her face.

He looks at her, darkened eyes by the shadows, and stays silent.

“Say something,” she urges, shifting her body. Her arms wrap around herself and she looks so small, not strong and confident like usual.

He stares at her, a longing glint in his eyes as she seems to distance herself. Her eyes lose the spark they’d always hold when looking at him, her shoulders slump the longer he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t… know,” he says, holding himself back. He reaches up and tousles his hair, readjusting his beanie on his head.

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do, Bets, of course,” his voices takes on a pleading tone, begging her to understand, to come back from the walls she’s already built.

“Then why! Why would you suffer alone? I care about you, Jughead-” he flinches at his name, unaccustomed to hearing it without a teasing tone, “I care so damn much, and I can’t understand why you couldn’t tell me that you’re homeless.”

Jughead takes a deep breath, shaking his head. A weight falls atop his shoulders and he sighs shakily, wanting to explain it all.

“Or did you think that I’d judge you? Did you think I’d be embarrassed of you? Do you really think I’m that shallow? That because my parents are the most judgemental human beings to ever walk this planet that I would be too? I would help you,” she finishes quickly, her chest heaving as they stare at each other, under the shadow of the streetlamp. She glares down at the sidewalk below.

“No Betty, I know you.” He reaches an arm out and she flinches backwards. His arm stays in the air for a moment before limply falling back to his side. His eyes grow darker then before, the bags under growing unsurmountably deep.

“I’m not sure you do.” she says, raising her chin to look him in the eyes. With tears in her eyes she takes a step back, shaking her head at him. His fingers twitch from where they lay at his side, wanting to reach out and grab her. He watches her fade away, her silhouette vanishing within the darkness down the street.

Jughead sighs heavily, looking up at the starless sky as hollowness resides in his chest.

Unfinished Business Part 15


Genre: action, fluff, angst, strong language, +18 content, gang material,

Read to find out who the reader will end up with. There will be several chapters of this so I hope you’re ready to die and anticipate many things.

Word count:2458


Keep reading

some of my fave songs & what they remind me of: 

elephant gun - beirut: the sun rising over barcelona, cheap vodka, birthday balloons, glitter, cairo’s drunken nights, cadavers in a jungle, pirate ships, broken bottles, the beauty of a bruise, mad explorers, art brought to life, smeared lipstick, dying in havana, lions, louix xiv’s bed, marshmallows, postcards from ethiopia

seigfried - frank ocean: placebo, young gods, empty playgrounds, cold sheets, drowning in city lights, burning concrete, night terrors, kurt cobain’s throat, oslo after dark, a crucifix, a sleepwalker’s dreams, blood on a blade, the absence of grief, prison tattoos, tchaikovsky’s letters, venus under a streetlight

prince johnny - st vincent: nyc at 4am, sleeping in a bathtub, vicious words, desperate hands, blindfolds, shadows on a bedroom wall, pictures of paris, bruised knees, longing to be holy, writing letters to your mother, sonic youth, a child’s fear of dying, schools at night, a junkie’s eyes, morpheus, morphine, rolla by henri gervex, lou reed’s voice, peter pan’s ghost