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#i miss my lover
iik1llz · 3 months
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` ` I’m Mr. Lover man. ` `
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` ` And I miss my lover , man. ` `
2:52 ,, Mr . Loverman - Ricky Montgomery.
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libbybibbies · 1 month
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It's missing my masc hours 😔
(I was at their house 6 hours ago)
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seepyprincess · 1 year
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I just want to feel him next to me when I wake up for the millionth time.
I want to feel him pull me closer like I’m his teddy bear.
I want to feel his fingers trailing my hips until he hooks my bottoms and starts to slowly pull them off
I want to feel his grasp on my waist as he slides into me so so easily
I want to feel his hands intertwined with mine when my mind is floating away with pleasure and being filled with only the thought of him
I want to feel his lips pressed against my cheek and forehead and temple because I’ve been so good for him
I want to feel him pull me closer like I’m his teddy bear
And I want to feel him next to me when I drift off and wake up for the Billionth time
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I can't believe I didn't catch the first line of the song. Oh well, at least I got most of it. I was close enough to be the asshole holding my phone as high as possible over my head to record the band. I was in the crowd alone because my friend who came with me didn't want to be caught up in the fray lol. Great show, but I'm tired because it was my second night in a row.
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whatevertheywant · 1 year
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I hate that I've kinda gotten to the point where I almost don't even want to tell people when good/potentially good things happen to me because it feels like it's gonna fall through or otherwise go away if I do
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thxnks4themrms · 5 months
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DID I DO IT? I THINK I DID IT
RAHHHHHH
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vampire pete and vampire patrick. as little bats. do you guys see my vision
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puppyeared · 6 months
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aughg
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ricky-mortis · 2 months
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Holloweane… save me…
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novaneondream · 9 months
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This is Us 🌸
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loveinhawkins · 1 year
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When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.
Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’
It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.
“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”
Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.
Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.
“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”
“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”
Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.
“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”
“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.
There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.
“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”
Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.
But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.
Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”
It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.
He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.
Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.
It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?
Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.
“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”
“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”
“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”
From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.
“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”
“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”
Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.
Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.
(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)
Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.
Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.
Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.
“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”
Lucas stops in his tracks.
“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”
Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”
“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”
“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”
“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.
Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”
He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.
But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”
Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.
“I’m looking right at him,” he says.
Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”
He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.
“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”
Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”
“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”
“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”
Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.
Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”
The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.
“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”
Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.
“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”
“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”
Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.
Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”
“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”
… Ah.
“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”
Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”
Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”
Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.
Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.
There’s a short silence.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.
Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”
Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”
It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.
Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.
It feels… weighty.
But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.
“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”
Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.
I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.
He doesn’t say it.
But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.
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keyotos · 9 months
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loved you every single day
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summary ⎯ what is love for the xianzhou guys? that's basically it. very sappy and tender and sentimental.
includes ⎯ dan heng, blade, jing yuan
tana's words ⎯ hi...
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dan heng
⎯ dan heng had a vague understanding of what love felt like. before the astral express, he never really knew what love really felt like due to memory loss. but he learned, eventually.
⎯ he found love when himiko always offered to make another coffee cup for him (this time, with the blend he enjoys). he found love whenever march/stelle would check on him during the late hours of the night, knowing he'd be buried in books. he found love whenever welt offered to shoulder the burdens of keeping watch during trailblazing missions.
⎯ but he has never felt love like this before. not with you anyway.
⎯ there was a sense of loyalty he had for you. of course, he was obviously also loyal to the crew, but it was different with you.
⎯ you made him want to follow you towards the end of the universe. you made him want to run with you into the light or whatever awaits the both of you later on. he was willing to do all of it.
⎯ why? a lame question to ask, he thinks. there are hundreds of reasons why, and he could list them easily. was your smile and the way it instantly warmed an entire room enough reason? or should he add onto the fact that you were practically made of stardust and cosmic radiance? that you have some kind of miraculous or even transcendental ability to string words so brilliantly that it manages to calm the harshest of voices down?
⎯ and love was scary for dan heng, at first. there were too many hindrances and difficulties in his life. for one, he could not let you get caught up in his past. he wouldn't: he would make sure of it. for two, he wasn't very used to love.
⎯ yeah, there was the express crew. but there was also you. dan heng thought that he would spend the rest of his life alone. he still has not settled into his room on the express because he reasoned that he'd stay until the archives until he was ready to leave. but you challenged all of that.
⎯ how is it that one person could make him want to stay by their side forever? how is it that you have such an enormous effect on him, yet you aren't even aware of it? every wall or barrier he's put up, you've always managed to erode it down. you allowed him to be vulnerable and you allowed him to be carefree. you allowed him to relax. to breathe.
⎯ loving you, was to breathe, for dan heng. you were the gasp of air that he needed while he was drowning beneath the waters. finally being able to decompress and unwind; he felt lighter around you. less stressed, less worried. less stoic. less somber.
⎯ he has never even thought of love like that before he had met you. but you changed him. and he is eternally grateful for that. eternally grateful for you. you are his home, his safe space, his sanctuary of security.
⎯ so he repays you often. he knows what kind of tea you drink and how to make it by heart. he makes a cup for you every morning. you have your own shelf in his archive. hell, you have your own damn space in there as well. there's an indent of you in every corner of every room.
⎯ or maybe, dan heng is so accustomed to you that he sees you in everything.
⎯ he lets you read from his shoulder. he has a shelf filled with all your favorite books from various worlds in his archives. he lets you sleep on his body rather than the flacid mattress on the ground, because he wants to keep you as comfortable as you've kept him. his fingers trace your body every night you stay with him, to ensure that you are safe and you are here, and he is home.
"are you sure you're comfortable like this?" you ask, situated on top of dan heng's body. you're partly afraid that you'll crush him with your entire body weight on him, and that his back would hurt after tonight, "wouldn't it just be smarter to crash in my room instead?"
his chest rises and falls underneath you, getting slower and slower as time goes by, "if you'd like. we can go."
you bite the inside of your lip in thought. it would be safer to do so, for both your and dan heng's safety. but, to be honest, you were very comfortable and tired. "is your back gonna be okay after this?"
"it'll be fine," he brushes off, "besides, you've been sleeping on me for the past few nights now. i can handle one more night."
"huh???"
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blade (contains lore spoilers)
⎯ love was something blade has always lived without. as a child, with war and battles as a constant on his homeworld, there wasn't any room for affection or anything similar.
⎯ but then you came along, practically shaking his entire world. there you were, dragging him off to drink god awful mung bean soda. to force him to go outside on days where he was over-occupied with work. to let him enjoy something for once in a while. to let him rub his thumb over yours in the quiet hours of the night, forgetting about work and all other duties.
⎯ he had never thought that loving could be so easy until he met you. it seemed as though time would stop in his tracks whenever he saw you. blade thought it was a myth coming from romance novels (one he had heard from you, ironically enough), but it proved to be, in fact, real.
⎯ and everything was easy. up until everything wasn't. it was one thing, then the other. baiheng passed, jingliu was extremely distraught. it was wearying to see everything go so downhill, so fast. nobody was ever the same after that period.
⎯ yet even after all that, you still had the same look in your eye. you looked at blade the same way you looked at him all those years ago. so much has changed between the both of you, and you know that the both of you would never be able to return to the past.
⎯ though, even after all of that, some things remained the same. for example, the way you never failed to take his breath away. seeing you for the first time in years had him going through a plethora of feelings: distraught, appalled, and slightly less dejected.
⎯ but most importantly, there were still parts of the other's heart still beating for each other. even if you couldn't love him anymore, you still cared about him. you cared about him the same way you did all those years ago.
⎯ you went out of your way to find him. you went out of your way to offer him solace, even if it was for one last time. why? he didn't want to know, he didn't want to ask. he has a mission: he has to pursue it, always. nevertheless, he still found himself underneath the sun's rays, as it managed to follow him wherever, saying, "i'm here. even if you don't see me sometimes, i am still here."
⎯ and if you still cared... well, there was still hope, right?
he's leaning over a rail, looking over the xianzhou skies and the starskiffs racing by. he hasn't been back in ages. it feels... strange; it feels as if he's experiencing his first day all over again.
blade is so fascinated by the sight that he fails to hear your footsteps come closer, now reaching his side. he only hears you after you clear your throat. he's startled, for obvious reasons: but, when he sees you hold up a mung bean soda in surrender, he's surprised at how fast the panic dies down.
"aren't you going to arrest me?" he took a step back from you. you didn't move, but instead held out the drink.
"i could," you dragged out, checking your watch, "but... i'm not on duty," the corners of your lips turn up ever so slightly, like you were happy at the fact that you were having a drink with a criminal. you pull open the tab and take a sip, then offer it towards him.
he blankly stares at your hand. remembers the feeling of it in his. now, his mind is skewed. maybe even grotesque if he wanted to sound dreadful about it. but there are few happy memories he can recall, as well as the feelings during them, and it seems like you are recreating one of them currently. and oddly enough, there are no feelings of bitterness that follow him this time.
he takes and drinks the mung bean soda, and to his surprise, it’s not as bad as it was many years ago. maybe it was because your lips were on it, or maybe it’s because the once atrocious drink did get better. and when he looks up and is greeted by your curious face, he hopes that love is like that as well.
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jing yuan
⎯ years ago, if you had asked jing yuan what love was, he'd say something benign: love is indescribable. a simple answer for a simple man in love. but oh, has time took its toll.
⎯ it isn't to say that love isn't indescribable. on some days, he finds it worrying that he may love you too much⎯that his willingness to give you the world was a bit concerning at times. others point it out, but jing yuan chooses to be blindsided. but he is always aware.
⎯ aware. jing yuan is nothing short of perceptive. he has been around for centuries. he has been there for wars, for battles, for decrees. and it sticks with him: forever. he does not simply forget, yet he is forced to stay in one place forever. immorality may be a blessing for others, but a curse for xianzhou natives.
⎯ he does not give himself a moment to fully relax. even if it seems that way a lot (the dozing general needs his power naps), he is always back to his duties.
⎯ however, it's different with you. with you, he has no burdens to shoulder. he has no secrets to keep from you. there is no wall of tension blocking between you. with you, everything is for grabs. his feelings, his emotions, his heart.
⎯ vulnerability. many look down at the vulnerable. and in jing yuan's line of work, the cost of vulnerability comes with a substantial price. his guard has to be up at all costs, because if not, there would be another catastrophe. his act as a lazy general is just a rouse, because there is so much that's weighing on him inside.
⎯ in a city that flies, jing yuan feels rooted by the weight of the luofu.
⎯ so imagine the amount of unconcern he feels when he's around you. the feeling of rocks suffocating him has subsided, and you are here to remove them. and one by one, he begins to feel lighter and lighter as you hull them off.
⎯ and you don't get tired. you're still here. you keep picking off the rocks, even the smallest ones. you relentlessly continue until everything is gone, and the only things left are just you and him.
⎯ by now, he understands what love is. it's when he knows how your fingers have ran through every crevice of his brain, every knot in his stomach, every knot in his soul. it's understanding. it's being able to shoulder the weight of the world with another. it's someone staying to help you get the rocks off of your body.
⎯ love is being met with soft touches instead of daggers. love is being met with mhms and reallys while retelling a story from this morning. love is being able to speak about the past, the truth of it all, and allowing the light to peek through instead of the darkness. that is what love is.
"and then, get this, i found him in the midst of a fight with blade," jing yuan throws his head on your shoulder exasperatedly, disregarding the fact that you were halfway through your novel.
"well, he was doing his job," you counter, looking back towards your lover.
"i know," he slides a hand across his face, "it's just tiring. and i don't want him to get hurt." like others, is the unspoken phrase here. it's on the tip of his tongue, you know it.
you place a bookmark in your book before shutting it. you finally turn your full attention towards jing yuan, "he's strong. you trained him."
"but," he sighs, "what if it's not enough?"
you decide the mood is a little too melancholic, so you decide to lighten the mood a little bit, "then i'll take over as general of the luofu," you grinned. jing yuan smiled as well: your smile was infectious, how could he not?
you ran a hand through his hair, "you are good enough. i hope you know that. you won't fail yanqing. he's tough and stubborn... he sadly gets that from you."
jing yuan chuckles, a real chuckle, and pulls you closer to him as you grab your book once again. he presses a chaste kiss to your temple as he reads along to the same words on a page as you.
yes, things will be okay, he thinks.
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hi y'all! i have been sooo busy w sm stuff lately, like i've been preparing for college and i've been going to the gym and i've been doing sm. updates have been scarce except like the 3 alhaitham posts (i couldn't resist). but hopefully during these last few weeks of summer i can get my grind back on!!!
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theartofmadeline · 9 months
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new item in the shop–rainbow connection suncatcher stickers! love how these came out :)
available here!
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I wish I could find words to describe how I feel, then maybe the feeling would be a little less overwhelming. If I could only figure out how to write it all down, then just maybe I'd be able to carry this. But sorting out my thoughts can only do so much. I miss being depressed and struggling, but with my lover to hold at night. Now I'm depressed and struggling and I'll never have my lover to hold again. We were a comfort to each other in all times, even if we didn't always know what the other needed; a hug and a kiss would usually help regardless. I used to wrap myself around him when I was upset. Our bodies fit together perfectly, it was like we were made for each other.
The physical connection was electric. The comfort of his smell, intoxicating to me from the beginning, the comfort of his touch, of the sound of his voice. The discomfort of being without him will never go away, I suppose, even if it isn't overwhelming as it used to be. I feel less restless when I have his ashes near me, like he's still here sitting next to me, that's why I bring him to bed every night. His ashes are the closest thing I have to his wonderfully warm and soft body curling up into mine. I miss holding him tight, he needed good squeezes every day in case I didn't tell him that I loved him enough. Oh love, my love, my love
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tiliona · 9 months
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infinite-words · 2 years
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All I've ever done is hide, From our times. When you're near me, Honey, when you kill the lights And kiss my eyes, I feel like a person for a moment of my life.
-Hozier
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