#it's about the longing

[lizardkingeliot]

when the sexual and romantic tension between louis and lestat is turned up to 11 in season 3 and they're dancing around each other but not actually touching i'm gonna need at least one moment where lestat ghosts his hand along the back of louis' neck in an echo of these moments pls

i need the tension to be so thick i physically cannot stand it so when they dive in tongue-first backstage at the end of the season it's that much sweeter tbh 😌

........ would also enthusiastically accept the opposite of this with louis reaching for lestat because hooooooo boy....... louis reaching for lestat in the corner of the frame, something half-glanced in a mirror for a flash of a second, face pressed up against the shadow of his own longing............

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[galedekarios]

gale + missing waterdeep

"if things were different, if we were home, i’d have taken the time to do things properly."

[c-is-for-circinate]

The unparalleled unspoken homoeroticism of singlehandedly adopting and raising the only child of your tragically-departed Dearest Friend, reblog if you agree

[kornknock]

out of reach, so far

19/06/03 + 29/09/03

[snowtamale]

oh. i’m realizing the reason i haven’t shipped anything in a few years is because i’m a slut for slow burn romances and nothing else

[evntualities]

something, something, athlete x athlete: we're best friends, together all the time, and i'm realizing my feelings for you are more than just platonic. there are so many jokes about us being more than just friends from fans and teammates, and it shouldn't sting so much that you laugh it off alongside everyone else. am i really just a joke to you? because my feelings are running over themselves and i don't know what to do with that

[madmanswords]

It's whichever one has the least faded button

do you think the elevator has a favorite floor

[lrndvs]

compliments from girls go hard

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[afniel]

This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.

[girlinafairytale]

i genuinely hate how people have to sit and write a post that stands out while boosting a fundraiser because most people won't bat an eye at the misery and inhumane conditions Palestinians are living in.

i see people making art and telling others to use it because fundraisers with art are generally reblogged more often. i see people using colored text in order to make the post more eye catching.

palestinians on instagram are using popular audios and stitch trending reels at the beginning to make the world pay attention to them. imagine having to make something look entertaining in order to survive.

they are living under constant threat of israeli airstrikes, bombing, scarcity of food and disease. many have lost a lot in the past few months.

palestinians on tumblr are posting their pictures and the horrible conditions in which they are living. they travel long distances for internet connection only to be called a scammer by some privileged ass who cannot locate gaza on a map.

here are some verified gfms. please share the linked posts. it's the bare minimum we can do from the comforts of our home.

@amjadshiltawu: link to the post

vetted

@dima96yousef: link to the post

vetted

@tamer200333: link to the post

vetted

@ahmed8311: link to the post

vetted (#161)

@saratahrawi: link to the post

vetted

[rotzaprachim]

not only are there no bad languages there are also no bad or annoying dialects

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon