#fuck yes dragon tuesday

[nova-dracomon]

[sylviii]

[text id: tweet from The Mountain Goats from November 25, 2012 - “black friday... cyber monday... but on dragon tuesday we carry our tribute to the cave in the misty hill fuck yes dragon tuesday. end id]

[butchboromir]

[500-moths-in-a-trenchcoat]

for the new year, i have decided to make a couple edits and additions to the almighty Calendar. happy 2024.

IT JUST HAPPENS

DAY 15 GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 15

Thursday the 20th

The Fifth of Wednesday

Second Week of May: Eurovision

Sometime in June: That One Halloween Post Starts Circulating

Sometime in July: Dancing Pumpkin Man Video/Gif

WEEKLY EVENTS (at least the ones i celebrate)

Every Monday: Garfield Hates Mondays

Every Tuesday: Tom Servo Tuesday

Every Wednesday: It Is Wednesday My Dudes

Every Thursday: Out of Touch Thursday

Every Friday: Flat Fuck Friday

Every Saturday: Sea Slug Saturday

Every Sunday: Energy Sword Sunday

YEARLY EVENTS

January 1: Copyright Expiration Day

January 8: Spiders Georg Day

January 16: Appreciate a Dragon Day

January 18: Bug Race

January 29: Threshold Day

All of February: Funguary

ALSO All of February: Femslash February

February 3: WOE, VANILLA EXTRACT BE UPON YE

February 13: Galentines Day

February 14: Aromantic/Asexual Day

March 9: Miku Day

March 10: Mario Day

March 14: Pi Day

March 15: Ides of March

March 23: Ever Given Got Stuck Today

April 1: Mishapocalypse

April 2: Dashcon Announcement Anniversary

April 3: Dannypocalypse

April 8: Rex Manning Day

ALSO April 8: MARGARET THATCHER IS DEAD

April 13: Neil Banging Out The Tunes

ALSO April 13: Homestuck Day

April 20: haha 420 blaze it

April 25: The Perfect Date

April 28: Ed Balls Day

April 30: It's Gonna Be May

All of May: Mermay

May 3: Beginning of Dracula Daily

May 4: May the 4th Be With You

May 5: Revenge of the Fifth

May 25: The Glorious 25th of May

All of June: Pride Month

ALSO All of June: IT'S HALLOWEEN TIME TO GET SPOOKY

June 5: Barricade Day

ALSO June 5: RONALD REAGAN IS DEAD

June 12: Another Homestuck Day

June 16: Let Papyrus Say Fuck

June 22: Summerween

All of July: Disability Pride Month

July 13-15: Dashcon Anniversary

July 20: Moon Landing

September 8: The Queen Is Dead and Sans Undertale Killed Her

September 11: Mole Interest Monday

September 19: Talk Like A Pirate Day

September 21: DO YOU REMEMBER-

All of October: SKELETON WAR

ALSO All of October: People Draw A Lot Month? (so many names)

October 3: Mean Girls Day

ALSO October 3: Fullmetal Alchemist Day

October 13: Treat Yo' Self

October 20: Unnecessary Feelings Day

October 31: HALLOWEEN

November 5: honestly what didn't happen that day

November 19: Goncharov

November 29: HENRY KISSINGER IS DEAD

All of December: Will the Gävle Goat Get Destroyed Again?

December 10: Please, It's Christmas

December 12: Hawaii Part 2

December 23: Christmas Adam

December 24: ALMOST CHRISTMAS MEANS IT WASN'T CHRISTMAS

ALSO December 24: Cabinet Man Day

December 27: Porn Ban Effective Today

[goingtothebes]

fuck yes dragon tuesday

[spicycinnabun]

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

[y-rhywbeth2]

I think it would've been funny if instead of being a dragonborn by default, the Dark Urge was literally an actual white dragon.

For shenanigans.

[Disclaimer that this idea is ridiculous and I don't care.]

The bhaalspawn plot twist is largely obvious to players of BG1+2 and those who've already completed the game. Who'd see the twist that you've forgotten that you're dragon in disguise coming? If you play another origin they'd make a good excuse to add a brainstealer dragon boss battle. Alternatively, if you take the ceremorphosis ending, you play as one.

Plus white dragons instinctually lean towards being brutal, vengeful little bastards in a manner Bhaal would probably approve of and due to their slow development would be very easy to corrupt from a young age… but my motivation is still mostly for shenanigans.

Living most of their life in a city, I imagine they're used to being in humanoid form. They had a sibling rivalry with Abazigail, as the only other dragon they know ("White dragons are weaker and inferior to Blues." - "I'm sorry, I'm too stupid to remember something, can you remind me? Of the two of us, who's a dead failure who disappointed Father?").

They got shanked by Orin in humanoid form and just woke up with brain trauma and assumed they were whatever humanoid they appear to be. Sure they have some ancestral draconic memory and speak draconic, but that's just a sign of having a dragon ancestor. It's not that weird! It might also seem strange when they start growling at the Githyanki dragon steeds, but going by some dialogue Durge growls at people anyway so it won't even stand out that much. At least the "human flesh smells tasty" thing makes sense now?

Lacking any memories of past enemies to plot against, dragon Durge simply adds their new friends' enemies to their list of grudges.

Those of us who play by looting everything in sight and refusing to share it with the party members have a valid reason; dragon hoard. Yes I do need to break my back carrying all of the money, enchanted weapons and six thousand books I'll never read; no, we're not selling any of it, fuck off.

We get to act 3 and the party gets the Bhaalspawn reveal possibly followed up by "also I'm a dragon." ("what the Actual Fuck.") Gale has already formed a hypothesis about Durge's true species, but we should also get to play Sharks Are Smooth over it. You get the standard -30 disapproval from Gale, but if Astarion is there he'll also want to play and you get 30 approval from him and Gale's disapproval doubles to -60.

Lae'zel as our resident horse dragon girl would rather travel with a red, but perhaps a mere white dragon will do for a steed in the meantime. It's training for her future, you understand.

I want to pick up Mizora with teeth and shake her like a dog with a chewtoy when she invades my camp to torment Wyll and refuses to leave. Maybe throw her around like an orca with a seal…

Romanced Wyll, Shadowheart or Gale introducing them to their parent/s (+Tara, in Gale's case) would be fun to watch.

Duke Ravenguard has hopefully learnt his lesson about not jumping to conclusions and hearing Wyll out and showing some tolerance for what appears to be an evil alliance, but a chromatic dragon sired by the god of murder who's also a reformed serial killer might be putting some tension on that... Maybe leave some details out.

The Hallowleaves are remembering the tolerance their Selûnite faith espouses and that they too are a loving couple involving one person who is technically a monster but I feel like Arnell is still on some level internally going; whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck.

I think Ms Dekarios will be mostly unphased. She's a wizard herself and Gale's been bringing weird shit into her life since he was born. Her son came home with a dragon for a fiancé/e. Sure. Must be Tuesday.

[emilykaldwen]

thanks so much for the tag @theladyelizabeth!

tagging: @acrossthesestars, @stannisfactions, @arrthurpendragon, @mercurygray, @alicentive, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @themaradwrites, @lya-dustin, @dragonsoftheeast

1. How many works do you have on AO3?: I have 9 so far! I ended up deleting some old works that were abandoned and didn't have a lot of interaction that were over a decade old (and they didn't have bookmarks either so I wasn't worried)

3. What fandoms do you write for?: Currently, House of the Dragon is the hyperfixation

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy - HotD Canon Divergent

Soulmates Never Die - The Borgias (my oldest fic)

Fight For Me (If It's Not Too Late) - Teen Wolf

Boy With a Broken Soul (Heart With a Gaping Hole) - HotD Fae AU

You're the Lighting of the Blaze - Hotd Canon Divergent

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! (and if I don't it's legit cause I forgot/thought I did and AO3 ate the comment). I love the community aspect of fic writing so if you take the time to leave me a comment, I love to engage. I especially love it when commenters ask questions and look for discussion.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably one of the old Prequel Star Wars Fics I wrote way back in the day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Right now, it's a tie between You're the Lighting of the Blaze and Bright Star

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not on my fics directly but I have gotten some rancid hate in my inbox re: Abby (And then that escalated to telling me to end myself so). This is why I now have anons turned off. Sorry guys.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do write smut! I'm not sure what it means by 'what kind'? I've done a few solo smut-shots, and Maiden will have a few explicit scenes when this arc is completed. I'm definitely someone who loves Plot with a side of Porn, and as long as the smut flows well and isn't overly repetitive, I'm here for it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have written a crossover! I had a mini-series of Whedon-verse/Supernatural called It Must Be Tuesday back on LiveJournal. Sam and Dean meet River Tam in a bar and the apocalypse happen. Dean and Buffy hooked up. I was acutally very proud of that LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not stolen but I did have some concepts lifted from a Once Upon a Time fic

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I'm aware of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Soulmates Never Die was co-written with a friend at the time (we've lost touch since then), and then when I was in the Charmed fandom, I adopted out an abandoned fic of mine and was the beta/co-writer on a big future Fic series with Wyatt, Chris, and Chris' friends. Those were some fantastic stories.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Oh man. I really love me Jacelaena and Helaemond still has a soft place in my heart (but the trajectory of a lot of the fics has just been... a turn off). Harry/Luna will always be warm and fuzzy for me (I used to be the ship captain back in the Fiction Alley days). Buffy/Angel was my first real Fandom OTP.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Hmmm... I don't have anything right now that fits that. I did have Isabelle Martin's Life is Totally Over which was a Derek/Lydia future Kid fic that I was actually enjoying but the fandom was such an utter turn off by that point.

16. What are your writing strengths? God fuck if I know. I think I'm really good at tying things together/call backs and really emphasizing those themes. I like to think I'm thoughtful at cause/effect of character action and consequences. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I feel like my descriptions are lacking and I get lost in the weeds. I struggle with finding the stakes in a story. Conflict is difficult. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? me crying with dote on doing some appropriately translated high valyrian for Maiden instead of just copy/pasting from one of the online translators. Only very, very, VERY few people will know that they're grammatically correct and honoring the original development of HV, but it was important to ME.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars back in the late 90s.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Maiden obviously holds my heart and soul, and it's always going to be everything for me, but I'm actually incredibly proud of Fight For Me (If It's Not Too Late). It was a two parter, and I wrote it in the span of a week? Maybe two weeks? and it was the last thing I wrote for a very long time.

[thephantomcasebook]

is such a weird contrast between Got cast and House of the dragon cast. Like even though they are not as much talent as Hotd, most of them cared about those characters and understand them. While hotd cast (mostly) have so little hope for their nerd show to gain a award them not even attended and another who went didn't even have the slightest preparation and composure.

I wonder that now the show is a successful piece of work how the discourse will change when they get close to the second season premiere.

The reason for that is fairly simple.

"Game of Thrones" at its core was held together by veteran and seasoned actors that were professionals at the heart of it . David and Dan were pretty amateurish but the production was surrounded by experienced people that maintained a professional work environment.

"House of the Dragon" and its cast are not veteran nor seasoned actors. Matt Smith, Paddy Constantine, and Rhys Ifans, are about it in terms of core veteran actors in the cast - Corlys and Rhaenys are not core cast members. The younger actors are very talented but are very, VERY, far from being professionals.

In particular the actresses - Olivia Cooke, Emma D'arcy, and even Phia Saban, are flat out immature both on and off set while representing the show - I don't care about their personal lives, they can do what they want on their own time.

A good example of this is the Press Tour.

A Press Tour is not just for promotion of a show, but to set the tone for your character and shape a narrative around them. They're very important moments to set talking point about your character and the plot of the show - to give you as an actor and the character armor. Instead, Olivia Cooke and Emma D'arcy used it to fuck around for weeks, not caring about promoting the show, not caring to protect their characters, nor to have dialogue about the characters. They basically sat there with each other's thumbs up their asses and acted like teenage school girls and not professionals.

Thus, there was a deluge - DELUGE - of hate for Alicent that was near psychosis, and there was nowhere for anyone to fall back to, because, Olivia Cooke never once went out and defended her character or point of view - LIKE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO IN A PRESS TOUR! So, instead, she moped and cried like a immature child that people were being mean to her, when she had a golden and offered opportunity to get ahead of it, but instead, chose to laugh it up for a week with D'arcy.

The one thing you could say about Lena Headey was that, yes, she was also a woman-child, who was incredibly immature for someone in their 40's. But she always used press to defend Cersei and never sided against her. In the press tours she always had valid points about where Cersei was coming from and really understood her character as the character - a real living and breathing separate person - not as an extension of herself.

Olivia Cooke couldn't be bothered to understand Alicent. Instead, to make her more palatable to her rich white leftist luxury politics, she made up a bunch of things that have nothing to do with Alicent Hightower so that Cooke could be more 'comfortable' playing her.

That's the difference between a talented amateur and a seasoned professional.

Of course, Lena Headey didn't like or agree with Cersei as a person, but she put aside her ego and embodied the character to a stellar performance, cause that is what great actors do.

Olivia Cooke is not capable of putting aside her scruples nor her ego to understand and embody Alicent to the fullest extent. Neither can D'arcy as Rhaenyra. They both try to put themselves and their personal wants into the character, rather than disappearing into the role. Not only is it the sign of immaturity, but it shows a deep lack of commitment to their craft and the show as a whole. Cause they don't give a fuck ... they pick up the check on Tuesday and bother their agent about the Emmy campaign ... cause why else would they be doing this "Nerd Shit" if they didn't have too?

"Game of Thrones", for a good portion of the show - till the end anyway -, was trying to tell a human story with human characters in a fantasy world realized by hard working and good hearted production staff.

"House of the Dragon" is in danger of being a vehicle for simply a bunch of ambitious and narcissistic people. From Sapochnik and his wife, who tried to change the source material cause they didn't like it. To Sara Hess who wants to put her own personal bullshit agenda into the lifeblood of the narrative - ruining characters like Aegon and Criston. And Cooke and D'arcy, who are simply signed up for awards and couldn't give a shit about anything or anyone else.

But time will tell, Nonny, time will tell.

[pedrito-friskito]

I’m still here - part ii - eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you both try to power through the school year, and then the unthinkable happens.

warnings: fluff, brief smut (not super explicit but still - MDNI), mentions of canon-typical violence, yeah I took a lot of details and fucked em up and made it SADDER (nobody look at me)

a/n: I’m deep in my feels okay but for the sake of PLOT we must persevere.

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

The time seems to drag slower, once you’re gone. It makes him anxious. Eddie pulls himself through the motions; out of bed each morning (usually on time), into the van, drive to school. For the first two weeks of classes, he’s good: he’s engaged, he’s paying attention, he’s even offering answers and turning in assignments on time. But as the heat of summer creeps away to give way to fall, and the memory of your summer together starts to fade, his attentiveness wanes.

Hellfire is a welcome distraction. Dungeons and Dragons has always been his safe place, ever since his mom got him a Player’s Handbook for Christmas, back when things were…better. It’s been his landing pad, a place to retreat and build himself back up when the world just wants to knock him down. He’s happy for the fresh meat, Henderson and Sinclair and the Wheeler kid, new faces to carry on the club when he’s gone, because, as he keeps reminding himself, this is gonna be his year.

The Cult of Vecna is a hit right from the start, and Eddie has never felt better than he does sitting on that throne.

(With the exception, of course, of when he’s with you.)

Weekly phone calls have been a tradition since you first left, and Eddie never misses a single one. He’s waiting beside Wayne’s old rotary phone every Tuesday night without fail, answering so fast he nearly drops the receiver every single time.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he answers, grinning like an idiot to the sound of your happy laugh, “did ya miss me?”

“You ask me that every time, Eds,” you reply, and he can hear the smile in your tone, “and every time the answer is the same.”

“I know, but it’s just nice to hear.”

Another sputter of laughter. “Yes, you weirdo, I missed you.”

It’s the highlight of his week, every week, the pair of you talking well into the night most of the time. He tells you about Hellfire, fills you in on the last session and what he’s got planned for the next one. You return with stories of your own, your life on campus and whatever shenanigans you and your friends have gotten up to. He does his best to ignore the pang in his chest at the idea of you experiencing things without him. He wants to be there, beside you.

And you seem to pull the words right out of his head.

“I just wish you were here with me.”

“I do too, baby. I do too.”

+

You’re not expecting the knock at your door.

“Can you get that?” your roommate calls from the bathroom, busy getting ready for her date with one of the guys down the hall. “It’s probably Greg!”

Exhaling, you set your book down on your bed, making sure to mark the page you’re on as you get up and head for the door. It’s a good sized dorm, more than enough space for the two of you, even if your roommate is intent on claiming a little more than half. But you don’t really mind. 

You push a hand through your hair as you reach for the knob, pulling Eddie’s flannel shirt tighter around your shoulders.

“Not Greg,” a familiar voice says as the door swings open and you squeak in surprise. “Hi, baby.”

You’re in his arms in an instant, hands gripping the back of his denim vest as tight as you possibly can. “What are you doing here?”

He hugs you back, looping his arms around your waist, locking his fingers together at the small of your back. “Had to see my girl,” he shrugs, lips quirking in a grin. “Ditched after lunch and got on the highway, I wasn’t gonna make it to Thanksgiving without seeing you.”

“Eddie,” you gripe, your tone chastising, smacking his shoulder as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek. “You ditched?”

“I did,” he replies, mouth moving down to your neck, “but it doesn’t matter, you wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“I got a B on that Algebra test.”

You inhale sharply as he sinks his teeth into your throat. “Y-you did?” You dig your fingers into his shoulders. “Eds, that’s amazing.” The last word hitches as he lets one hand dip and squeezes your ass through your sleep shorts. Your voice drops. “My roommate is here.”

As if on cue, she steps out of your bathroom. Eddie’s head snaps up, yanking his hands from you and sticking them behind his back while you try to will the heat from your face. She just grins. “You must be Eddie.”

“Guilty.”

Winking at you, she snags her jacket off her bed and brushes past you both. “You kids have fun, I won’t be home tonight!”

As soon as she’s out of sight, Eddie pushes the door shut, leaning against it and tilting his head back. Everything in you goes tight, watching his throat bob as he watches you. He’s here, in Chicago, standing in your dorm room.

Your suddenly very empty dorm room.

Silently, you reach towards him, moving your hand to the side at the last minute and flicking the lock on the door. Eddie just watches, dark eyes tracking your movements as you curl your fingers around his wrist and tug, walking back across the dorm to your bed, pushing until he sinks onto the edge of it. His legs spread wide and you step between his knees, sighing into his grip as he reaches for your hips. It’s familiar and warm and comforting, and you take his face in your hands, tilting his head back, brushing the stray curls from his cheeks and dragging your knuckles along his jaw.

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

He gives you a little smirk, just a flash of white teeth before you’re kissing him, soft and slow and everything you’ve been dreaming about since the day you left.

It’s much slower. The drag of fabric against skin, your clothes piling on the floor. You settle yourself in his lap, letting him dive into the deepest parts of you, touching nerves that only seem to come to life when you’re with him. It sends shocks of electricity down your spine as he touches you, hands spanning your back, kisses pressed to your shoulder as you ride him. You can feel the cool metal of his rings, leaving indents in your skin. He bites at the chain around your neck, his ring dangling between your breasts.

“Tell me how it feels,” you murmur to him, tossing your head back when he bites at your nipple.

“Feels like home,” he replies almost instantly, arms tightening around you, slithering around your waist and pulling you close as possible.

Afterwards, you lie in bed together, Eddie on his back, you on your front. You let your hand wander his chest, tracing over his tattoos and down his stomach, trailing through the fine hairs that ride south. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Bad news,” he says almost instantly. “Bad news first, always.”

“I can’t come home for Thanksgiving. They changed my exam schedule.”

He groans, tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Nooooooooo.”

“I know, I know,” you say, pulling yourself onto his chest, dropping a kiss to the ink over his heart, “but that’s the bad news. Good news is I get an extra week at Christmas.”

Eddie cracks an eye open, peering down at you. “Well, that is good news.” He drags his fingers down your spine, hand flattening at the small of your back. “What do you say to making a guest appearance at Hellfire, then? The holiday edition.”

You return his slowly widening grin. “Deal.”

+

Fall fades into winter and soon enough, it’s Christmas, the snow arriving right on cue, big fluffy flakes that coat the streets and do their best to add to the whole wintry feeling. Eddie’s never been one for winter, much preferring the mildness of fall and the warmth of summer to the biting cold. But, the arrival of the snow means he’s that much closer to having you back again, and that makes it all worth it.

He plans the holiday Hellfire session for weeks, spending hours with you on the phone, drawing up a character sheet and explaining the rules of your chosen class and race. You’re no newbie, having listened to him plan sessions and campaigns for upcoming club years as long as you’ve been together, but he can still hear the waver of apprehension in your voice. He sees it on your face when you show up at the trailer the night of the session, the cold biting your cheeks bright red and your lip chewed to hell.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, gathering his books from where they’re scattered around his room, nabbing a few rolled joints and his lighter, popping a kiss to your cheek when he walks past you. “We built you the coolest character ever, and you’re gonna rock this, I know it. They’re going to love you, Dustin especially.”

Sure enough, by the end of the session, after a handful of natural 20s and some Eddie-guided manoeuvres, you have a new friend.

“Eddie, holy shit, your girlfriend is cool!”

Dustin talks your ear off for the rest of the night, and Eddie just watches from his throne, beaming at the pair of you. Everything is as it should be.

You have family dinners out of town on Christmas Eve and Day, so Eddie steals some of your time the day before, asking you over to his place for your own version of Christmas dinner (Spaghetti-os and a stolen six-pack) and gift exchange.

You show up with a suspiciously large, long package, wrapped in Santa Clause-patterned paper and a red bow on top.

“What the hell is that?” he asks as you lug it through the trailer door. Wayne is gone for the night, having picked up a few extra holiday shifts for the overtime pay, so it’s just the two of you, as usual. “That better not be what I think it is.”

Your chest is heaving as you set the present down, straightening and leaning in to kiss his mouth, which he returns half-heartedly, eyeing you. “Depends what you think it is.” He just stares at you for a moment before his eyes dart back to the present. “Go on, open it.”

He feels like a little kid, dropping to his knees and ripping into the paper as you shrug out of your winter clothes and settle onto the edge of the couch. There’s a lot of paper, and you laugh when he makes a show of putting the bow atop his mop of hair, continuing to claw at the wrapping.

The black case is immaculate, the leather shining in the dim light coming from the lamps, and Eddie sucks in a breath as he runs his hands across it, reaching for the latches.

He’s never seen such a beautiful instrument in his life.

Stuttering out words, he covers his mouth with his hand. There are actual tears in his eyes, and he just stares at the guitar, the silver frets and the strings, the red and black body, angular and perfect. You did this? For him?

“Do you like it?” he hears you ask, and his head snaps up, wet eyes landing on your wide ones. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“I love it,” he breathes, clambering up onto his knees and closing the distance between you two. He slides between your legs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you as close as he possibly can, pushing his face into your collar. He can’t believe this; he can’t believe you. “I love you.”

He feels the stutter in your chest, feels your hands stroking his hair. “I love you too, Eds.”

It’s a good few minutes before he pulls back, disentangles himself from you and wipes the wet from his cheeks. “How did you even…?”

“My dad got it at some work auction thing,” you explain, waving your hand, “and he doesn’t even play guitar. He was a little reluctant to hand it over, but I’ve been working a lot at the pizza place in Chicago so I told him I’d buy it from him and I—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words, and then gets to his feet. “Wait here.” You’re in the same place when he returns a moment later, a box in his hands, the same bow that he’d stuck in his hair on top of it. It’s wrapped in newspaper, and he hands it to you sheepishly. “We didn’t have any wrapping paper.”

“It’s perfect,” you say, grinning up at him. You tear into it just as enthusiastically as he had, and he wishes he could listen to the noise that comes out of your mouth on a loop for the rest of his life. “Eddie.”

“It’s not much,” he shrugs, hiding behind a piece of hair. “I wasn’t expecting…” He gestures to the guitar. “That.”

Inside the box lies a few of his t-shirts, the flannel he stole back from you when he visited back in the fall, a handful of rolled joints accompanied by a bright red lighter he carved little hearts into, and a cassette tape.

“Queen!” you shout, grabbing the tape excitedly. “Yes!”

Eddie grins. “That’s the one you were looking for, right?” You nod enthusiastically and his grin widens. He gestures to the t-shirts and the joints and the lighter, rubbing the back of his neck. “I slept in those shirts, so they smell like me, I guess. And then, y’know, a little something to take the edge off.”

“You know me too well, Eddie Munson,” you smile, absolutely beaming at him. “Now play me something!”

+

New Years finds you back in the trailer, drunk on cheap champagne, your lips swollen from Eddie’s attention. It’s a quiet night, but you’re happy for it, the trailer filled with the sounds of Eddie’s guitar, Metallica and Iron Maiden. He even plays Love of my Life by Queen just because he knows it’s your favourite.

When you leave to head back the second week of January, it feels like the hardest departure yet. You can’t put your finger on it, but something just hurts, aches in your chest, that magnetism you’ve always felt towards Eddie doubled, tripled even. It hangs around in the back of your mind, dark tendrils gripping your heart like a vice, and not even Eddie’s sweet words or intense affection seem to help.

“Everything is gonna be fine, baby,” he croons to you, pushing his hands through your hair over and over, holding it in a makeshift ponytail between his fingers and leaning in to kiss your mouth. “Just wait. You come home for spring break and we’re gonna have the best time, okay?”Another kiss. “Don’t worry, all right?” Another. “I love you.” It’s sing-songed, an effort to get you to smile, but you just push your bottom lip out, making a small noise when he kisses it.

Still pouting, you push your face into his chest, unable to shake the feeling, inhaling the familiar scent of him as deeply as you possibly can. “Love you too, Eds.”

+

Eddie honestly cannot believe this is happening.

The last few days have been a blur, a mind-numbing swirl of blood and gore and terror and fear, fear so thick it’s made a permanent residence in the back of Eddie’s throat, making his pulse race anytime he hears a noise besides his own heartbeat. Sure, it’s all been explained to him, but it doesn’t make it better.

He has a lot of time to think, hiding in the dock house. To mull over the situation, how he’s living up to the Munson name, on the run like this. Making dear old dad proud or some shit. It makes his stomach turn.

At this rate, he’s gonna miss your phone call Tuesday night, and somehow that makes him feel worse. He’s got half a mind to sneak back into the house so he can try and call you, explain what the hell is going on as soon as possible. But, knowing Reefer Rick, the phone bill hasn’t been paid in a decade, so it’s a moot point, and he stays put.

When Henderson and company show up with the news that he’s now wanted for murder, Eddie wants to disappear. He should have dropped out of school, should have followed you to Chicago when he still had the chance. Better yet, he should have listened to you back in September when you mentioned running away together. Then none of this would have happened.

He catches Dustin’s arm before they leave. “Hey, man, I need you to do something for me.” Dustin nods eagerly, brow furrowed with concern. “I need you to call my girl, okay? Tell her to stay in Chicago no matter what. Make her promise, all right?” Dustin just nods and Eddie squeezes his arm. “Tell her not to worry.” He rattles off your number, Dustin procuring a pen and scribbling the digits on his hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Eddie.”

+

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Dustin Henderson? Eddie’s friend?”

You laugh into the phone. “I remember you, Dustin. I thought we were friends, too.”

He stutters out a little chuckle. “Oh, right. Yeah.” An awkward pause. “Listen. Eddie asked me to call you, and before I say anything else, he told me to tell you not to worry.”

Instantly, your heart climbs into your throat. “Dustin, what’s go—”

“Believe me when I tell you,” he cuts you off, “it’s better if I don’t tell you. Maybe I will someday, but in person, not over the phone like this.” The kid sounds nervous, his words rushed. “But Eddie asked me to call you, and he says to stay in Chicago, all right? No matter what, you stay in Chicago. Promise?”

Your brow furrows, anxiety clenching your gut, that unshakable feeling that had appeared when you left Hawkins after winter break reappearing. “I don’t like this, Dustin. Where is Eddie?”

“I can’t tell you that, it might not be safe. But he is. Safe, I mean.” He huffs. “Just, promise me you’ll stay in Chicago, please?”

You swallow hard. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

+

He knows he’s going.

It hurts — god, it fucking hurts — but he refuses to be afraid. He didn’t run, not this time. He bought them time, made a difference, helped save the world. And, if in some grand gesture, final I love you way, it means he saved you, then it’s enough. He doesn’t want to go, but it’s enough.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” he tells Dustin, the words bloody and bitten through his teeth. Pain rumbles through him, stretching along his muscles and making his vision tinge black at the edges.

Dustin shakes his head, tears on his cheeks. “No, no, no, no, you didn’t run.”

Eddie forces himself to smile up at the kid. His friend. “I think it’s my year, Henderson.” His breath stutters and he can feel the blood in his lungs, the fire lit in his belly as the pain eats through. “I think it’s finally my year.” Somewhere, he thinks he grabs Dustin’s hand, but it’s hard to tell if he even moves. “I love you, man.”

Dustin sobs, eyes squeezing shut. “I love you, too.”

Eddie sucks down another breath, feeling it rattle through him, unwanted. “T-tell her, okay? Tell her what I did. Tell her how much I l-loved her.” He grabs Dustin’s eyes again. “I-I loved her so much, man.”

Dustin nods furiously, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I know you did. I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her everything.”

“G-good.”

He can taste the blood in his mouth, coppery and thick, and he can feel the tears pooling in his own eyes, slipping down his cheeks. Faintly, he thinks he hears Dustin call his name. The black takes over his vision, and the last thing on his mind is your smiling face.

+

Promises be damned, when the news announces an earthquake had rocked Hawkins, Indiana and killed twenty-two people, you’re on the highway in an instant, a hastily packed bag in the backseat and a scrawled note to your roommate. You try calling your parents before you leave, even try the Munson trailer and a few other friends, but all you get is dial tone. The earthquake must have pulled the phone lines down; it’s no use.

Your parents are both relieved and upset to have you home. They’re packing what they can, desperate to get out of town, heading for your grandparents house a few hours outside of Hawkins. When you announce you’re going to see Eddie, they stop you in your tracks.

“Sweetheart, that’s not happening.”

When they tell you what you’ve missed, that Eddie was wanted for murder and has been missing since the night Chrissy Cunningham was killed, you’re at a loss for words. You can’t believe it. There’s no way. And coupled with Dustin’s warning, it makes less and less sense. He couldn’t. Eddie would never.

Refusing to let you leave for the rest of the night, you wait it out until morning, hiding in your room and mulling it all over, chewing your lips bloody and trying to will away that dark feeling still looming. You can’t believe what they’re telling you, what they’re saying he is. There’s just no way.

Eddie wouldn’t. He would never. Not your Eds.

The next morning, your parents are telling you to pack your things back into the car, but you refuse.

“No. I’m going to find him. I don’t care what they’re saying he’s done, what you think of him. He didn’t kill her. I know it. He’s not like that.”

Before they can get a word out, you’re darting out the door, car keys in hand.

You’re definitely not expecting to come face to face with Steve Harrington, jogging up your front porch. You were never friends with Steve in school, him being a year below you, but you knew who he was. The Hair. You’d attended a few of the same parties, said maybe a total of ten words to each other in passing. But he’s Steve. Everybody knows Steve.

“Hey,” he says, his tone soft, hands shoved in his back pockets. “I don’t know if you remember me from school, but I…” He trails off, meeting your eyes and then looking away, brows raising. “You’re Eddie Munson’s girlfriend.”

Slowly, you nod.

“Uh,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at his feet. “Shit, I don’t know why Henderson thought I could do this better than him.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Dustin sent you?”

Steve lifts his head, and you don’t miss that his eyes are shiny, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Yeah, I…Dustin, he’s pretty shaken up, and he asked me to come.”

You raise a brow. “What’s this about, Steve?”

He pulls his hands from his pockets, reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. His jaw twitches, mouth trying to form the words. “It’s…” He shakes his head, blows out a breath. “It’s about Eddie.”

“I’m going to find him,” you say, tired of whatever is happening right now, moving out from under his grip and heading for your car. “I know that whatever they’re saying about him on the news is bullshit.”

Steve calls your name again. It makes you stop in your tracks to hear the waver in his voice. “You won’t find him.”

Slowly, you turn back, keys dangling from your fingers. “What are you saying?”

You think you know, the feeling of dread turning to a lead weight in your stomach, all the blood rushing from your limbs, your head going light and woozy.

No.

“He’s gone.”

You shake your head, tears springing instantly, and point your finger in Steve’s chest as he steps closer to you. “No. You’re lying.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Steve says, stuttering out your name and curling a hand around your forearm.

“You have to say it,” you bite out, trying to wrench out of his grasp. “I’m not gonna believe it unless you say it.”

“He’s gone,” Steve says again, his voice thicker now. “Eddie died.”

The dread doubles, triples, and you collapse. Steve’s there to catch you as you fall.

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕 (and it’s been updated to include eddie/steve/hopper/stranger things fics!)

tags (if you liked the first part lol): @peterparkers-girlfriend @ruhro7 @steadyasthe-flowers @pedropascalsx @saintmurd0ck @pintsizemama @charliecoccix @a-hopeless-fan @mindidjarin @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @1800-fight-me @simple-lovebot @itwasthereaminuteago @quadruplescorpio @eddiesloversstuff @effinhell @indulginginmydailydoseofdepresso @dazedrhapsody @deliciousdreamlandlady @pandawithprobs @ajokeformur-ray

eddie tags: @trickstersp8 @nightthou @bluestuesday

[nova-dracomon]

[luci-z-wont-shut-up]

Episode 2

Bro snow in the desert is not actually that wierd

Bro. Bro u srsly need to rethink ur tourism program like what the fuck. FREE RADON FOR EVERYONE

I'm sorry but as soon as he said "it changes colors" I immediately envisioned a fuckin. Caramelldansen cloud XD

OH SO IT KILLS PPL. O K A Y .

Bro if literally Existing in Nightvale is so dangerous, how does the population stay afloat. At all.

Sounds like just a normal day in the post office tbh. Also Racist Magic Guy is starting to grow on me. His oblivious stupidity and self-sure incompetence have captivated me.

Honestly a floating cat in the men's bathroom sounds like the least abnormal thing so far. Cats are just Like That™️.

"This message was brought to you by Coca-Cola" yeah that tracks X'D

"Because all of us are normal" bombastic side eye. Criminal offensive side eye

Ah so the secret Boy Scout cult has finally achieved immorality. Good to know. Just another Tuesday ig. Also d a r k s c o u t XD

WAIT "Sign-up is automatic and random" um wat. Hi what. Does. Does this perchance have anything to do with the Ominous Helicopters

This man has *clearly* never been a father. Or had siblings. Or cousins. Ever. Maybe *don't* bring children near the Caramelldansen Cloud of Carrion?

...oh so they just have straight up dragons. Ok. Dragons who commit insurance fraud? *throws hands up* why not

"McDaniels was pulled over for speeding last night" UM SIR how big was that car?!? Actually ykw nvm it prolly just had a pocket dimension or amthn this is fuckin Nightvale why am I trying to use logic

Okay #1. Secret Dragon Society that's actually Not That Secret is kinda cool, #2. WTF DO YOU MEAN STOP SIGN IMMUNITY. like don't get me wrong I *understand the temptation* but also why would you allow dom3thing so profoundly stupid and unsafe as a r e w a r d for

... for being an Alert Citizen. Ok. Ok I guess I can kinda see where they're coming from. Maybe. [Didn't sleep well last night and I'm tired so sorry if my commentary's getting lackluster]

Also stamp system for being compliant with the secret police. Yeah that's not sus at allllll

Bro I wish I could schedule my workplace to be Unknowable some days. Dot Day sounds... ominous, for a number of reasons but more so their implications than anything actually ominous, yk?

[I need sleep]

Bro I would NOT pay $5 for a music lesson like that, let alone $50

"Bake sale proceeds go to blood space war" okay invader zim

"Wednesday has been cancelled due to a scheduling error" XD honestly w my terrible sense of time that just sounds like a normal thing to me

Tfw a your perfectly good ice cream outing is inturupted by a dead lion dropping from the sky

[Continuing this like 3 weeks l8r so sorry for the Commentary Continuity Disruption Leik Woah]

Uhhhhhhhhhh so in the weeks I've been gone I threw myself back asswards into TMA content [so yes v much Spoilers First Bc I Had No Patience] and? I am. Very much getting a Smirke's Fourteen vibe from the Carrion Cloud. Also is Mr radio man. Like. Okayyy??!?!?

AND NOW THE WEATHER

🎶Waitin for the bus in the rain in the rain in the waitin for the bus in the raiiiin 😎 🎶

Damn this is actually a legit bop I would make this new ringtone no question

(Don't get me wrong I fully expect this to have Lore implications later on but for now I'm just Vibin)

NOT SURE WHAT HAPOENED MY ASS

oh. Oh, Tapes, you say??? Well. *strokes imaginary beard*

What. The fuck? Genuine Life Advice? In my horror/weirdcore podcast? It's More Likely Than You'd Think. What. qhat even is this.

Ok so vanilla smell is Important.

This List is probably important but my brain refuses to hold onto any item in detail for longer than 3 seconds. Also "clear plastic binder sheets" made me laugh SO hard for some reason

Genuine question to anyone reading this, how much should I be paying attention? Like is this a Pepe Sylvia red-stringing sort of podcast where every detail is crucial later on, or is it more sort of a go-with-the-flow, Embrace the Absurdity sort of thing?

Why was that "Goodnight, listeners" so threatening?!?!?

*deep, deep inhale* ohhhkay

Next FUCKING EPISUDE I GUESS

[gay-otlc]

Won't Fall In Love At The End- 2

I 100% did not abandon this story for two months, all accusations of me doing that are completely false.

Rana mostly forgets about Asher as she moves through the rest of the school day, the excitement of having a fake-partner lost as her focus shifts to derivatives and then Shakespeare and then the civil war. She barely thinks about them again until she passes them in the hallway on her way to the bus and they smile and wave at her. Once she finds her seat on the bus and puts on her headphones until the painful chatter of the students around her is mostly drowned out, she pulls out her phone and opens it to her group chat.

Me 2:12 PM

So... I have a date for homecoming!

The reply is immediate. Rana knows Eva has art club after school on Tuesdays, but she must not be paying much attention, because she responds faster than Rana can even type.

Eva S 💚 2:12 PM

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

HOLY SHIT

THAT'S AWESOME!!!!!!!

Aziza C 💙 2:13 PM

OMG

WHO IS HE

Eva S 💚 2:13 PM

Or she????

Me 2:14 PM

They, actually.

Do you guys know Asher?

Aziza C 💙 2:14 PM

Ofc i know asher!!!

All jews know each other lol

They're kinda hot ngl 👍

Rana exhales a small sigh of relief. She didn't know how much her friends' approval had mattered to her, but considering she'd only entered this fake dating mess because her friends were so invested in her love life, it made sense why she'd been anxious about what they thought.

Eva S 💚 2:15 PM

so proud of you <33333

our baby's all grown up 😭

Me 2:16 PM

I'm older than both of you.

Aziza C 💙 2:18 PM

How did it happen????

Eva S 💚 2:19 PM

omg yes tell us everything

Me 2:22 PM

We sit next to each other in study hall and we talk sometimes, and then today we started talking about homecoming, and they just... asked me out.

And I said yes.

:)

Aziza C 💙 2:23 PM

Love story for the ages

There. Nothing in her story was false. Sure, she left out the part where they agreed this entire relationship would be fake... but Rana doesn't want her friends to know this point. They're so excited that she's in a relationship. It would disappoint them if they knew it wasn't real. And Rana wants them to be proud of her. She doesn't want to go back to hearing them talk about how she should just get a partner already, because she was missing out on something so great.

She'll fake date Asher, and her friends will be happy, and then soon she'll know what it's like to date someone, but without the pressure of an actual relationship. This is the best possible outcome, she reminds herself; Aziza and Eva have stopped pressuring her, but she doesn't have to pretend to like someone she doesn't, at least not to their face.

But still, she doesn't like lying to her friends.

The bus arrives at her stops, which mercifully lets her stop texting her friends about her imaginary romance life, and she silently curses the weather for the entirety of her five minute walk to her house. It's October. Who gave it the right to be so warm in October?

She means to start her homework right after eating a snack, but mysteriously ends up falling down a wikipedia rabbit hole about lizards instead. In her defense, lizards are more interesting than physics. (At least, the rabbit hole starts with lizards. Specifically, bearded dragons. Eventually, the links lead her to reptiles, and then dinosaur evolution. All of those things are also more interesting than physics.)

The homework gets done eventually, although Rana spends the entire time wishing she could do literally anything else. At least once it's over, she can watch Netflix without the looming guilt of procrastination, and then she can sleep at a (semi) reasonable hour.

And then it's morning, and it's annoyingly dark as she walks from her house to the bus stop. And the bus is somehow even louder than usual, and it's crowded and all the people are packed tightly in this yellow vehicular hell, and when she finally does get to school she has a listening assignment in her first period Spanish class which she hates because she has to figure out what the people are saying without a transcript or subtitles or anything, which is hard enough in English let alone in a foreign language, so all in all, her day has been fairly shitty so far.

At lunch, the cafeteria is filled with noise, hundreds of students all talking over each other. The smell of overly greasy pizza is overpowering. Eva and Aziza don't have this lunch period anyway, so there's no need for Rana to be in this stupid cafeteria. She's on her way to the library when she notices Asher, pushing a door open. They wave at her, and she walks over.

"We're eating outside," they say. "Want to join?"

Outside. Outside is much better than the cafeteria. And it's probably better than going to the library, since if she goes outside she can actually eat. According to her therapist, it's "bad" to skip meals. Or whatever. "Okay," she says.

Asher smiles and holds the door for her as she walks through. It's still too warm for October, but Rana guesses she doesn't mind, since she wouldn't want to eat outside in the cold and she already decided eating outside was probably the healthiest option for her. The table outside has a few other people Rana knows. Abigail, Eva's long time crush. Daniel, who was Rana's lab partner in chemistry last year. Xavier, who Rana knows next to nothing about, but has been in school with since sixth grade. Everyone else looks familiar, but she can't assign them a name.

Asher finds a seat and gestures for Rana to sit next to them. "This is Rana," they say to the others at the table. "She's my fake girlfriend."

They told their friends it was fake, Rana notes. That's strange. It shouldn't be surprising, since most people are honest with their friends, but... she kind of expected Asher to be in the same "lying to your friends so they stop getting on your case about dating" situation as she is.

"You have terrible taste in fake partners," Xavier says, and Asher flips them off, and they all laugh.

By the end of lunch, Rana's day is considerably less shitty, and she's decided she likes Asher's friends. And Asher themself.

She's not totally sure why she doesn't like Asher in "that way," whatever that means. They're great. But actually dating them? She would really rather not.

Whatever. It's fine.

If she focuses more on calculus, she can stop thinking about the fact that her heart probably doesn't work like everyone else's.

[pancakehouse]

this GAME omg!! 3 or 4 pls if you haven’t yet? 🖤🖤🖤

HI omg hi darling!!! soooo sorry for how late this is, im SO unbearably slow, but i had lots and lots of fun with this one!! <3 <3

3. love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere.  

(vaguely nsfw)

It’s the heat that gets them, in the end. 

Tuesday afternoon, and the peak of summer. Sweat works its way into every folded crease of Sirius’ skin, every tiny, inconsequential buttonhole; pooling in droplets that reproduce and multiply, soaking right through one of his rattiest t-shirts before he strips it off altogether. 

They’ve taken to lying on the kitchen tiles for cover. Spines to the grotty porcelain, faces tilted towards the open window. A breeze filters through, but it’s weak and pitiful; hardly enough to flutter an eyelash, let alone do any real cooling. 

This heat is blistering. A week of it now - relentless, and fleece-blanket stifling. Sirius whimpers, pressing a damp tea towel further into his face. “Remuuus,” he says, and blindly throws an arm out. It knocks against warm, sweat-slick skin that twitches under his touch. “Remus, my towel needs more water.” 

There’s no response. Sirius whimpers some more, trying - and failing - to lift his head from the ground. It’s too heavy, weighed down by hair and exhaustion and the soupy, unreal haze of a dragging afternoon. He’s going to die here, probably. Left to rot on a floor that’s definitely not been cleaned since they moved in two months ago. 

“Why is it so fucking hot,” he whines. He thinks it’s Remus’ side he’s got a grip on - his ribcage, the tender skin between bones. Sirius drags his finger along the ridges; feeling, more than hearing, Remus’ sharp inhaled breath. The delicate shudder that runs through him, the half-baked moan pulled from his throat. Somehow, the kitchen grows hotter.

“Sirius,” murmurs Remus. His voice is gravel-road rough; scrapes on skin, exposed and raw.

Heart pounding, Sirius uses his other hand to rid of the tea towel. When he opens his eyes, Remus is staring at the ceiling, head thrown back. His throat is long and golden, bobbing as he swallows, cheeks flushed pink and lips parted. He looks - well. Fuck. Sirius burns all over; the tips of his fingers, molten ache pooling in his abdomen. 

Remus is still wearing his own t-shirt, but it’s rucked up to his chest, boxers damp with sweat and clinging to his skin. Sirius’ gaze flicks to his hip bones, pale and protruding, and his throat feels dry; scratchy and cracked, a week-long sojourn through the Sahara fucking desert. 

This want - he’s carried it with him for ages now. For months, years, since the conception of all known universe. It’s become something of a comfort, if not torture; a familiar weight in his lungs, pulling, pulling: yes, there you are. can i come with? oh, anywhere. anywhere you like.

The heat bakes his mind, turns it delirious and hazy-red. Sirius flattens his palm against Remus’ ribs, tests curling his fingers in. His heart pounds when Remus exhales, shaky, his back arching off the tiles. It looks involuntary, instinctive; and no choice Sirius makes will ever be more important than what comes next. 

He presses his thumb in, slides it down to skirt the edges of Remus’ waistband, eyes glued to his face, watching for - for anything. Goosebumps dance across flesh, and when Sirius’ nail grazes the fine hairs on his belly, there’s no missing the full-on moan Remus lets out. 

The kitchen burns. They’ve been transported, dropped into a pit of unending flames, and everything is red, red, red. Sirius gazes at him, stretched out on the tiles, golden skin taut and breaths coming in fast, harsh pants. 

When Remus looks over, his eyes are bright and syrup-hazy, full of the same burning heat pulsing through Sirius’ fingertips. He feels breathless with it. It echoes across the kitchen; off the ceiling, the floor, the useless inches of space between them. Sirius wants and wants and wants. 

It’s the same spark that pulses through his gut every time Remus shuffles out of his room in mornings, all sleep-soft and rumpled; every time his nose scrunches when he laughs; every time he drinks more than one glass of wine and is made of pink cheeks and bright eyes and lopsided grins for the rest of the night. 

“Moony,” he whispers, not wanting to cut through the haze permeating the air. He leans over, forearm on the tile above Remus’ head. Grins stupidly, watches Remus’ cheeks go pinker. “Oh, darling,” murmured softly, “you are just so fucking sweaty.” 

“Christ,” Remus huffs. A tentative grip at his hips; a lazy, lopsided grin. Then: “You’re an idiot.”

[butchboromir]

i know dragon tuesday is really technically the tuesday after thanksgiving but i am taking the liberty of this tuesday being dragon tuesday because i need it to be dragon tuesday. fuck yes dragon tuesday

[mysticstarlightduck]

Its Blursday! You hand the OC of your choice $1 million dollars (or the equivalent in your/their world!), what do they spend it on?

Happy Blorbo Blursday! Thank you for the Ask @writernopal!

You hand the OC of your choice $1 million dollars (or the equivalent in your/their world!), what do they spend it on?

Raelen - She'd likely spend at least some of her newfound money on chocolate snacks, but only some of it. Afterward, she'd probably save most of it, and use her money to fund the reconstruction of the Ancient Archives for the Mageborn scrolls.

Azra - He'd pamper his dragon with a saddle made of diamonds and pearls because Mystral (his dragon) likes to look majestic. Then, Azra would probably use the rest of the money to help Kestrall rebuild in the aftermath of the Siege and the wars.

Julyan - That boy would hoard that money with his life, "my precious" (from LOTR) style. Not because he is selfish, but because he is very self-conscious and anxious about money, and probably hasn't seen that amount of money in his wildest dreams. He'd continue living his life as he always had because he'd be scared to spend the money.

Vallerius - Continent-wide trip across Agrannor, here he comes, baby! He'd spend a year traveling across the continent in the finest places it could offer. He'd end up penniless shortly after his trip is done - that boy was born noble and never really learned how to handle money (much less the concept of savings) - but he'd say it was worth it.

Luciya - The most chaotic shopping spree in the world. I'm talking full-on deranged impulse buying. She'd come home with a cart of the weirdest candy known to man, the tackiest clothes in existence, and the most useless dagger set ever - no money, no purse, and no sanity in sight. Of course, she'd also rescue some animals from crooked merchants, but not normal ones, I'm talking about a giant winged serpent from the Scarp and a suspiciously looking Hook-Eye mountain cat from Ergyre, and be like "Hey, Fabian! Meet our new pets! Aren't they the cutest? They bite". Fabian promptly transcends onto the great beyond once he realizes how she spent their money so quickly.

Innara - Buys some of the most dangerous alchemical elixirs and potions in the world, chooses the sharpest gold-plated dagger (just out of spite), and beelines it back to her home kingdom. Once she is there, she bribes the nobility who betrayed her to be by her side, like "Hey, Great-Uncle! I'm back, thought I was dead huh? Maybe stop poisoning my dad by any chance? No? Okay then", and kills the bastard (her corrupt Great Uncle) by blowing him up to smithereens with the potions she brought. Then she gives the rest of the money to the kingdom and enjoys the chance of spending a month as a pampered princess in her own court before she gets bored and goes to find some adventure.

Lukan - Promptly loses it all on a betting game at a shady tavern, gets blackout drunk, passes out, and wakes up at home with zero recollection of how he got there or how he lost the money in the first place. Mourns the loss of his 1M bounty for two seconds before moving on with his life like its just another Tuesday.

Tanwin - Buys books, lots of books, endless books, and locks himself up in his room for a month to read them all, then emerges from the experience with still almost 500.000 gold to spare.

How Tanwin's interaction at the library would likely go: Book Store Clerk: Okay, how many books do you want? Tanwin (dead serious): Yes. Book Store Clerk: But how many? Tanwin (pulls a dagger): Just Yes. Book Store Clerk (filling up boxes and boxes of books immediately): Okay then! (Silently to themselves:) Why did I get this job, should've stayed on the farm, but nooo... Now I got to deal with this fucking guy.

Bryn: STRAWBERRY SMOOTHIES. Strawberry cupcakes, strawberry pies, everything strawberry that 1M can buy. Also, he'd take Cirien on a tour of a florist shop because Cirien likes to see the exotic flowers and carnivorous plants.

Sybil: Would get Morwan to join her in the most unhinged drinking game and tavern crawl in history. Two hours in, they'd be at least halfway through 1M, without even realizing it, because Sybil likes gambling and so does Morwan.

Emryc: Would get a puppy. He wouldn't even buy the puppy, he'd just pick up a random stray dog from the street and use the fact that he is now a millionaire as a bargaining chip to get his friends to let him keep a random - likely magical or cursed - dog in the fortress. And it's not even a cute regular dog either, it's the most mutated, weird, cursed dog-like thing ever. No one is sure it's even really a dog, or a cat, or anything for that matter. Lilo & Stitch style.

(Emryc) "I have 1M gold, I can do whatever I want." (Ansell) "That... dog, has three heads. And I think another head is spawning, oh my gods -" (Emryc) "I know! Isn't he the goodest boy?" (Ansell) "He bit me!" (Emryc) "As he should." (Ansell, walking away) "That's it. Hey, Ellinor, get Yuna, we're moving back to your Dad's place, come on."

Nethen: Would be the most obnoxiously meticulous person ever. He'd awaken his inner accountant, and be proud of it. He'd know exactly how much each coin weighs and costs and how much it is worth in each province of the kingdom. And end up not spending a dime.

Nadinne: Would spend her 1M creating an exact, working replica ship of The Fearless (her aunt's ship which was sunk by pirate Captain Vulfric when Nadinne was a kid), and get a talented crew, so that she can finally sail the seas on her own terms like she always dreamed of.