#1000 pound sisters | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vveirdvvitch · 4 months ago

Text

Look! I wrote a dirty little piece of fanfiction featuring Edward Nashton!

Edward Nashton X Fem!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut, fluff, porn with very little plot

Summary: Eddie does you a favor

Heaven Tonight

Edward trudges up the stairs to his apartment. It had been another torturous day at the office and he was looking forward to getting back to his real work. Cleansing the city would finally give him the satisfaction he had been seeking. Nothing would keep him from obtaining his goal to purge the rotten decay at the heart of Gotham.

He rounded the landing and began the climb up the last flight when a curious sight made him forget briefly about his plans for the evening. There you sat on the filthy hallway flooring in front of your apartment door which was across the hall from his own. He pauses at his door and watches as you tap away on your phone.

And then it happens. It had happened before and each time was a special gift Edward treasured. You lift your head up and smile at him.

The first time had been approximately 8 and a half months ago when you first moved in. He had been coming home from work and nearly ran into you when you headed down for more boxes.

“Whoops! Hey sorry neighbor!”, and that 1000 watt smile had him forgiving you instantly.

He didn’t mind accidentally receiving your mail. Now he knew your name. Now you would greet him with a warm smile and say, “Thanks Ed! I don’t know why the dang mailman keeps doing this.”

“Hey Edward!” Why you were always so friendly was beyond him. He turned it over and over in his mind. Was it a trick? Were you stupid? Were you perhaps the only genuinely kind person in all of Gotham?

Ed gave you a timid tight-lipped smile, “hey, what are you doing down there?”

“Oh you know, trying to get a hold of my sister who is far too busy with her new girlfriend to care about what I’m doing, as well as our good for nothing landlord.” You paused and gave him a quizzical look, “Well, I don’t know our landlord's dating status just that he can’t be bothered to answer.”

It was Edward’s turn now to look puzzled. You pointed behind yourself towards the door, “Key broke off. I can’t get in.”

He nodded and gently huffed, “Ah!”

“So I’m down here until someone either responds or I get desperate enough to call some weirdo who decided to become a locksmith.”

The wheels of his mind clicked into motion. He could probably solve this for you with his pliers and his lock picks, but he couldn’t be sure if you would react negatively or positively. Who has a set of lock picks at the ready? Definitely a creep.

He didn’t want to freak you out and he couldn’t let you sit here in the hallway by yourself. There was no telling what kind of degenerates occupied this building. He looked to his door, key in hand.

“Um,” Edward swallowed thickly, “you could wait inside with me.”

The lock clicked and the knob turned. The wheels spun up again. Dread fell upon his shoulders like a sodden cloak. He couldn’t let you inside! One step and you would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was, in fact, a creep. A psycho. Ed-weird. His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat threatened to cover his whole body in a clammy sheen as every conceivable bad ending raced through his mind. You screaming in horror as you ran from him; You slapping him hard across the face in revulsion; You shrieking at him with unbridled rage, “let me out of here you psychopath!”

No, surely you would politely decline with another of your sweet candy smiles. Then he could suggest waiting at the diner on the corner while he took the time to vet locksmiths.

Just as he was pulling the door back towards himself you were up on your feet and pushing past him with a cheerful grin.

“Thanks Ed! I think my butt was falling��” you trail off as you truly begin to take in your surroundings. Newspaper clippings covered in large, red letters and threatening phrases paper most of the walls. Piles of ledgers, various tools, and unrecognizable contraptions litter every available surface. It all feels so surreal as you turn slowly looking for anything to give you an answer. This must be a dream. And if it is a dream, then you can do whatever you want to do.

Your gaze lands back on Edward. Still standing in the doorway looking like he might vomit or pass out. From his sudden pallor you guessed both. Your eyes make contact with each other. His big, murky green eyes full of panic pull at your heartstrings. A dream you tell yourself again.

Without too much thought, you let the words tumble out of your mouth. “Can you do me a favor Eddie?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion but he nods.

“If you’re gonna kill me, could you at least fuck me first?”

Panic bubbles in his chest as he chokes out a strangled, “What?”

“Well,” you glance about the room again, “this is kind of a textbook serial killer apartment,” your eyes connect once again with his, “And I am the kind of dumb girl who will follow a cute guy anywhere.”

Edward’s heart stops. The wheels of his mind screech to a halt. Cute. You think he’s cute. This was not a scenario he had considered.

His face softens as he finally closes the door behind him. You find the both of you slowly crossing the room towards each other. As if your feet have no intention. They follow some magnetic drum. Prisoners of their destination.

Until the two of you stand mere inches apart. Head tilted back to look him in the eye. Heart pounding your gaze darts between his eyes and lips. The pink tip of his tongue protrudes ever so slightly to wet those lips. Before you can think too much about it you push yourself up on your toes and smash your mouth inelegantly against his. The force pushes a small squeak from your throat.

The sound snaps Edward from his tether. His arms crush you to his chest, hands pawing at your back. His form is soft yet solid against you and his fervor elicits a soft moan from your now parted lips. He takes this as your sign to deepen the kiss and his tongue begins a passionate exploration of your mouth. His hunger and inexperience make his kisses feral.

Teeth click together. Tongues clash and lick. Saliva runs freely. Drool accumulates at the corners of your mouths. Edward walks forward pushing you back towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss. His apartment is small like yours and it isn’t long before you feel the mattress hit the backs of your calves. You fall backwards onto the mattress and stare up at him.

Edward allows himself a moment to take it all in. He feels compelled to burn the image into his memory. You splayed on his bed, eyes glassy, lips parted and panting. The spitting image of delicious prey.

Carefully, as though he is trying not to spook you, he climbs onto the bed and crawls up your body. His breath is warm on your face as he leans down once again to capture your lips with his own; However the new angle causes his glasses to slide down his nose and hit you in the face.

Any tension you may have had dissolves at his soft giggles. “Sorry,” He says as he folds his glasses carefully and places them on the nightstand.

His reach pulls up the fabric of his shirt just enough to reveal the smallest sliver of his tummy. You take the opportunity to snake your hand through the gap to feel the softness for yourself.

Edward tenses, almost pulling away. Your free hand goes to the back of his head. Threading your fingers through his soft downy hair, you guide him back down for another kiss. This time his lips are hesitant. The hand still under his shirt glides over his side to his back. You dance your fingertips over the smooth skin and knobs of his spine.

His eyes flutter closed. A slow whine pushes out of his nose as his body and lips melt back against yours. It isn’t long before you feel his fingers pull at the hem of your top, so you adjust yourself enough to pull the garment up and over your head, tossed to the side. Goosebumps form on your arms and chest as Edward gapes open-mouthed at you in your modest cotton bra.

“Your turn,” you almost whisper.

Edward takes a deep breath, steeling himself against his self-consciousness. He unbuttons his shirt just enough that he can pull it and the t-shirt underneath up and over his head. While he is distracted with his task you reach behind yourself, easily unclasping your undergarment. You add it to the growing heap of discarded clothes at the same time as Edward’s shirts. A sound like the combination of a groan and a whine squeezes from his throat. The cool air causes your sensitive peaks to tighten.

The sight sends Edward into a ravenous frenzy once again. His nose crashes into the flat of your sternum and his hands crawl up to the fleshy mounds now on either side of his head. His hands knead the soft tissue and fingertips dance around your ever hardening nipples as his tongue slides across your skin.

Wanton moans pour out of your mouth at the sudden cascade of attention to your breasts. More fuel for Edward’s fire. You writhe and sigh when his wet persistent tongue travels up the side of your breast and he takes the nipple into his mouth.

Equally perverse sounds bubble their way out of Edward, his mind peacefully blank as he suckles. Your legs are tangled together and he absent mindedly humps your thigh. His hardness easily felt through the thin fabric of his cheap slacks.

Your right hand returns to his dark blonde locks, fingers tightening and pulling him off of you with a soft pop when your nipple is pulled free of his lips. You gaze on his love drunk face with its wet puppy eyes and slackened jaw. Gently you guide him to the other breast. Edward resumes his devotions to your pleasure while you reach your free hand down towards his pants.

Your fingers pull clumsily at the latch on his belt. A frustrated grunt at your failure breaks Edward from his ministrations. He looks down to where your fingertips struggle and notices the small wet dot on the crotch of his pants. You’re going to think he’s a pervert. Panic grips him yet again, until he hears your voice husky with arousal.

“Take them off.” You lick your lips before adding, “please?”

His heart leaps into his throat and he finds himself wrenching his belt loose and scrambling out of his khakis faster than he thought possible. There is a moment's hesitation before he pulls down his boxer briefs. But then he sees you are squirming out of your own pants and panties all at once. And so his underwear joins its brethren on the floor.

Edward doesn’t have time to worry about the size of his cock or what it looks like bobbing up and down, leaking precum. He would worry but the distance between your knees keeps increasing. He feels like he is watching a time-lapse of an orchid blooming, the petals unfolding to reveal the true beauty within.

As you lean back on your elbows, legs bent at the knee and falling to either side, Edward stares hungrily; a starving man crawling across the desert on hands and knees. Your sweet cunt an overly ripe peach on the verge of decay, splitting at the seams with musky juices. The promise of satiety.

Edward has never committed this particular act before but the sirens’ song of your wet, pink pussy is simply too much to resist. His arms crawl beneath your legs and wrap around your thighs. Fingers gripping lest you change your mind, close your legs, and deny him what he now considers his singular goal.

You would never, of course. In this moment, your only desire is to give in to him. You’ll do anything if it means he will continue. You’ve never felt desired like this before. Like you are a benevolent goddess offering sustenance to your most loyal servant.

His gaze flits up to yours. With a small smile and nod you award him approval. Tentatively he presses his lips to your right thigh. First a chaste kiss. Then a light flick of tongue. A gentle nibble. Briefly his breath hits your sensitive throbbing sex but your torture is prolonged when you realize he is simply moving to do the same to your other thigh.

Desire coils within your pelvis. The ache overwhelms you, your need too great.

Your whines and moans fill Edward with a confidence he was unaware he could achieve without his mask. His breath is cool and sharp on your wetness as he comes to feast on you at last.

First, a chaste kiss. You throw your head back and shudder, amazed at how such a simple action could feel so electric. Then a light flick of tongue. Your elbows give way, landing you flat on the mattress. A gentle nibble. Your thighs clamp together to hold him hostage against you at the same time your hand flies to the back of his head.

“Ahhhhh! Eddie!!! Ahhhh!” You moan his name.

A beautiful woman is moaning his name.

The wheels in Edward’s mind begin to turn yet again. He cannot lose this. He needs to know how to recreate this result. He will master this puzzle. Unleashing his tongue to explore your folds, he begins to catalog every twitch and sound you make.

The flat of his tongue licking you like an ice cream cone draws a low moan. The pointed tip drawing circles around your clit cause you to buck and hiss. He kisses, sucks, and licks. You pant, shake, and writhe. He pulls your labia into his mouth. You growl and arch your back off the bed. He pushes his slick muscle into your aching hole. Your eyes go crossed as you whine and shiver.

It is impossible to tell how much time has passed. Every touch from Edward is electric pleasure. What started as sloppy-yet-eager has become a determined assault on your pulsing cunt. Your head lolls to the side and you can see him buried between your thighs, nose pressed to your clit. Sensation and image combine to launch you into ecstasy.

Your hips buck. Moans blur into growls blur into a purr. You feel your insides tighten and relax. Tighten and relax. A gush of fluid rushes into Edward’s mouth which he drinks gratefully.

Panting, he pulls back to look back up at you. His eyes glassy with lust and triumph. Face glistening with your release. Never have you seen something so erotic.

Your hands dart out and clutch his shoulders, “Eddie please, I need you. I need you in me.”

Edward pushes a sharp breath out of his nose. This is it. Jaw clenched, he reaches for his bedside table and pulls a condom from the top drawer. Not that he had many lovers, just that sometimes economy of cleanup during certain solo activities was tantamount.

With shaking fingers he rips the package open and tosses the wrapper away. He tries to steady his breathing and roll the condom on his turgid member. Lips pursed in concentration, eyes closed, Edward takes a deep grounding breath.

His absence is too much. You wiggle yourself closer to him and whisper seductively, “Please Edward.”

His eyes snap back open. His face set in determination he leans himself towards you. Propping himself on up his elbows over you. You simply can’t take it any longer. Before he can make another move you snake your hand between your legs and grasp him firmly eliciting a growling moan from the usually stoic man.

He is thick and firm in your palm. Twitching with excitement. You guide him towards your entrance, rolling your hips up to take in the tip. Seemingly of their own volition, Edward’s hips come crashing into yours, sheathing himself in one fluid motion. If you weren’t so aroused it may have been painful but all you can feel is a delicious fullness. Sparks ignite behind your wide eyes.

Edward takes a deep shuddering breath and pulls back slowly, looking down to see where you connect. He nearly pulls all the way out before sliding back in. The pace he sets is tortuously slow. Dragging his full length in and out. Your eyes roll back in your head, legs shaking. Edward has the sudden desire to never cum. To simply slide in and out for eternity. Perhaps that would be heaven.

Warmth and desire pools in your belly. Your legs come up to wrap around his hips. Your arms wrap around his torso. Still he continues to go much slower and gentler than what you crave.

“Please Eddie faster, please” you sob into his shoulder.

Unable to do anything but give in to your request, his pace quickens. He screws his eyes shut tight and wills himself to hold out. To remain here inside of you for as long as possible.

Edward nearly loses his control when your nails dig into his back and you wail, “Harder!”

A high pitched whine builds deep within him as he pistons himself into you. This is what you had been craving. Him rutting like a crazed buck in heat.

You pitch your hips up in time with his. Wet slapping sounds echo around the room peppered with guttural moans and hisses of pleasure.

Jaw clenched, Edward uses every ounce of willpower he has to maintain his pace, holding back just enough to avoid falling over the edge. No small feat as you thrash beneath him. Gasping. Clawing at his back. Digging your heels into his ass.

“Ohmygod, Eddie! Mm gonna cum!” Your body engulfs in fire, every nerve alight with ecstasy. You become weightless, out of time and space as your orgasm crashes through you.

Edward feels the rush of warm liquid. Your soft, slick walls clamp down on him like a vice. The muscles contract in waves to produce a milking sensation. He does not slow, fucking you through your orgasm and quickly catching up to his own.

A sweet languid smile graces your flushed face as you come back down from your peak. You are so beautiful, so angelic in his eyes.

A dark possessiveness overcomes him. His thrusts come even faster. More wild than before. He buries his face into your neck and growls, “Mine.”

The word unlocks something within you. Your arms and legs curl around him tighter as you gasp your reply, “Yours.”

His teeth sink into your neck. You feel his growls reverberate in your whole body as he repeats it over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The tension in his abdomen becomes too much to bear. He feels his scrotum tighten in anticipation of release. Edward seats himself inside your warmth as deeply as he possibly can. A strangled cry rips from his lungs as he cums inside of you.

As the spots fade from his vision and his ragged breath evens out, the full realization of what has transpired comes over Edward. The pretty girl from next door was beneath him. Naked. The woman he had pined over since the very first time she had smiled at him was flushed and breathing unsteadily.

Cold spiney fingers of panic start clawing at his chest. The questions don’t just run at lightning speed through his mind, they tumble speedily from his lips.

“Um A-are you okay? Uh did you uh c-cum? Was was I good?”

Edward’s face burns with embarrassment at his clumsy pillow talk.

Until your face once again brightens with a smile, “Yes, oh yes and oh my god yes!!”

You punctuate each affirmation with a kiss, gazing back at him adoringly.

His heart swells beating back the icy grip of panic. He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and gently untangles himself from you.

Edward carefully slides the condom off his now softened member and ties off the end. He places it gently on the nightstand. Cringing at the sickening squish sound it makes.

He picks up his glasses, places them on his face, and turns back to you. “Um do you need anything? What should I do now?”

Your face splits into a warm smile, “Just cuddle me, silly.”

You open your arms up to him and he slides down to lay beside you. Arms wrap around each other and legs entangle together. Edward grabs the blanket and pulls it over you both at an awkward angle. You idly play with his hair and a contented sigh escapes you.

“Hmm I guess this means you’re not gonna kill me huh? “ you say with a tired laugh.

“No,” you can feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, “but I might chain you to the radiator.” A high pitched almost manic giggle bursts from him.

You join him with your own laughter crazed from the whirlwind of emotion. You didn’t know if he was kidding or not. Or if you even cared.

End

#the conundrum man #edward nashton smut #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #pwp fics #pwp #fluff #smut #vveirdvvitch writes

323 notes · View notes

natsvenom · 1 year ago

Text

Angel

Jason DiLaurentis x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve spent the past few days being distant with your boyfriend, Jason, after you and the liars are go to a coffee shop in town and run into his ex-girlfriend Cece Drake.

WARNINGS! Age gap, slight angst, alcohol ingestion, reader has an eating disorder (anorexia), body shaming, etc.

You and the liars walk into the Apple Rose Grill. Everything was stressful, per usual. Garrett had been let off the hook for murder and now Wilden was trying to make Hanna look guilty. There was currently a court order out for them to take a sample for Hanna’s blood. That would’ve been fine, knowing Hanna isn’t guilty. Except A has a way of making an innocent person a guilty one.

“Take it from me, you’re always better off with a really good lie.” A feminie voice said from behind you guys. You physically felt your heart stop in your chest. The voice was insanely similar to Alison’s.

“Is it just me or did that sound a lot like…” Emily mumbled. Younturned around to see a blonde girl standing at the register. There was no way that could be her, right?

“…Alison.” You guys said in unison.

The girl turned around with a smile on her face, but it quickly faded as she saw you guys staring at her like she was ancient relic, “Something wrong?” She asked.

“Oh, no, sorry.” Aria apologized, “You just sound a lot like one of our friends.”

“Hope she’s brilliant.” The girl said, “What’s her name?”

“Alison DiLaurentis.” You told her, staring at her like she was a lost dog.

She looked at you guys in realization, “You were friends of Ali’s.” She says, “Me too, I’m Cece.” You had heard that name before, you just weren’t exactly sure where from.

“Spencer.” Spencer spoke, greeting herself.

“Melissa Hastings little sister.” Cece noted, “Ali talked about you. She talked about all of you. A lot.”

“How do you know Ali?” You dared to ask.

“Before I moved to L.A our families rented summer homes in Cape May. We went through an intense couple weeks together. I dated her brother, Jason. She never mentioned me to you guys?” Cece explained. You suddenly felt tense hearing the mention of Jason. You could only imagine what she meant by an intense couple of weeks. But there was no need for you to be jealous, right? Jason was with you not her. But in the moment you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly gorgeous Cece Drake was. She had beatiful blonde hair, blue eyes, easily a size 4, and not to mention her confident outgoing personality. She was everything you weren’t.

For some reason this realization made you sick to your stomach. She looked perfectly healthy, while the reason you had looked the way you did was from practically making yourself sick. Almost your whole life you had been worried about your appearance; making sure you never ate more than 1000 calories a day, over exerrting yourself, and excercising till you felt your body break down.

You knew you were destroying yourself, but you wanted to be pretty. You wanted to be like the girls at your school who all the boys fawned over. You wanted to be the girl who was always picked first for group projects. You wanted to be the girl who wasn’t afraid to wear a crop top in public. You wanted to be like Alison, beautiful and destructive.

Alison had told you something that’s always stuck with you, “You’re pretty, but sweetie you need to drop a few pounds.” When she was alive you easily weighed 130 pounds. By the time your family moved back to Rosewood, you weighed 100, and now you weigh 110. everyone had noticed the dramtic changes over the years. Your family had done nothing but worry about you, the boys at school would whistle at you and make inappropriate remarks, Hanna was someone who you could relate to, and Jason was someone you could rely on.

Before you guys started dating, he found out about your eating disorder. At the time you and the other liars were still questioning if he was A, but after he had helped you get better you never once thought about him being A again, and dismissed the girls when every they tried to convince you he was just being friendly to get information. Luckily, things were different now.

You wondered why Jason had never brought up Cece Drake before. You silently wondered if there was any part of him that still thought about her. I mean she’s gorgeous, who wouldn’t be thinking about her.

You had been zoned out for so long you hadn’t even been paying attention to their conversation until you saw her about to leave, but she stopped in her tracks, “Do any of you girls know if Jason is seeing anyone? I hear he looks really good now-a-days.” Cece asked.

The rest of the girls looked at you subtly before turning back to Cece, “No clue.” Spencer said quickly, shrugging her shoulders. Cece nodded her head.

“Well if you see him tell him I say hi.” She said in flirtatious tone, making your skin crawl.

It had been two days since you last spoke to Jason. You spent the last couple of days worrying about your body, spiraling back into that same old self concious loop you had been so familiar with. He was starting to get worried about you. He had absolutely no idea what was going on with you.

You sigh, sitting in the driver’s seat of your car. You know you shouldn’t do this, but you really needed something to take your mind off Cece Drake.

Jason sighed as he sat down on the front porch of his house. He had absolutely no explanation for what was goingon and it was driving him crazy. He turned his head when he heard footsteps walking up to him. He had hoped it would be you, but was met with slight disappointment when he saw someone else.

“Hey.” Spencer greeted softly, walking up the porch to sit by her brother. He simply nodded at her, looking down at the cement floor, which suddenly became very interesting.

“I met Cece Drake this morning.” Spencer revealed. Jason looked up, a confused expression on his face. He hadn’t heard that name in so long, nor thought of it. Spencer could see the gears turning in his head.

“What?” She questioned.

“Was y/n with you?” He asked, looking at her desperately for answers.

“Yeah, why?” It suddenly clicked in his head what was going on with you. You weren’t ignoring him because you were mad at him. You were ignoring him because of something she had said.

You sat on a hard red stool at the bar, thanking Alison internally for getting you a fake id. All you had to do was flash it to the bartender and he came back with exactly what you thought you needed. Alcohol.

You had only drank a little bit, but you were already starting to feel tipsy. You were clearly a light weight, and almost everyone knew it.

“What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing here all alone?” A masculine voice asked from beside you. You turned your head to see a man sitting next to you, a glass of something that was defintely stronger than what you were drinking.

“I’m wondering the same thing myself.” You heard another voice say from behind you. You didn’t have to think twice about it to know who it was. You spun yourself around in the stool and were met with his warm green eyes. You groaned dramatically, pushing youself off the stool. You forgot that the stool was hightened, and practically fell right into Jason’s arms.

His arms wrapped around you quickly, pulling you back up straight. Well, straight as you could get in that moment, “I’m taking you home.” He said strictly, making you giggle. It wasn’t really funny, but right now everything seemed comical to you. You pushed past him walking out of the bar. You felt the cold night air hit your face. It felt good at first, but then it made you feel sick. You threw up into the bushes right outside the bar, right before warm hands pulled your hair back for you.

“I don’t feel good.” You mumbled, wiping your mouth off.

“Mm, I wonder why.” Jason quipped, rubbing your back as an attempt to soothe you. You groaned, shoving your head into his chest. He put one of his hands in your hair, rubbing your head comfortably.

“You smell good.” You mumbled into his chest, making let out a breathy laugh, “Can we make out now?” You asked, pulling him down by his jacket. He kissed the top of your head.

“Not right now pretty girl.” He said softly. You groaned, the annoyance making you roll your eyes. You pushed away from him, walking through the parking lot, Jason following closely behind you.

You stopped in the middle of the parking lot, looking at a group of trees intensly, “Hey, who put those there?” You wondered, observing the trees like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Jason came up behind you, shrugging his jacket off and putting it over your shoulders. He didn’t say anything, knowing that explaining the process of the life cycle of a tree to a drunk person would just end up with and endless amount of stupid questions.

“I think you should take a nap and then google it in the morning.” He said, intertwining his hand with yours as he walked you to the car, opening the door for you and helping you get in. The car ride home was relatively quite, but it wasn’t uncomfortable silence, it was nice.

When you got to the DiLaurentis house, Jason’s hands stayed on your waist as he guided you up the stairs. You plopped down on his bed as he pulled something out of his closet for you to wear. He helped you unzip your little black dress and pulled his hoodie over your head. You yawned as you threw yourself back onto his bed. He sat down next you, pulling the covers over you and placing a gentle kiss on your head.

“She’s pretty.” You mumbled into the cold pillow, grasping it in your hands. Jason sighed, knowing this conversation would end up happening one way or another.

“Whose the girl that I let sleep in my bed everyday and steal every single clothing item I own?” He teased, making you smile into the pillow. You knew he was right.

“But—”

“But nothing. I love you, and only you.” He assured, pulling you into him as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You cuddled into his chest, grasping his shirt in your hands.

“I love you too, Jase.” You yawned.

“I know angel.”

#jason dilaurentis #jason dilaurentis x reader #pll #pretty little liars #imagine #spencer hastings #light angst #aria montgomery #hanna marin #emily fields #alison dilaurentis #cece drake

827 notes · View notes

theskeletonprior · 5 months ago

Text

I left my awful soul-sucking job so my writing commissions are now open! Looking for a brainrot cure? Got a story that won't write itself? There's a way. Drop me a line! I'm especially good at nailing character voices, hurt/comfort, polyamory, and subtle moments of intimacy. While I don’t mind writing intimate scenes, I don’t accept graphic NSFW requests, non-con, or underage. When in doubt, just check in with me first! You can message me here on Tumblr, or email me at [email protected]. The hellsite, as I'm sure you know, does eat asks and such sometimes, so if you don't hear back, don't be afraid to reach out again!

Price List (CAD)

1000 words for $20 1500 words for $35 2000 words for $45 Pro rate for writers these days is $0.08 per word, so my commission rates are an absolute steal. Our dollar is also a little bit trash here in the land of maple syrup and poutine or whatever, so if you happen to trade in eagle bux, even better for you! My commissions help me pay for things like sertraline, funding for my ongoing effort to be reunited with my beloved husband, the occasional good meal, and resources for my work as a professional Dungeon Master (I can't believe that one either). So hire a dead guy, and help support a queer creative. I also donate any tips to Gaza Funds.

If you’re looking for a longer work, feel free shoot me an email at [email protected] and we’ll chat. Words are what I do.

Work Samples

You can read all my Tav Tales to date here on AO3, but here are some of the highlights.

To Live in Infamy (2k Durgetash)

The morning, Enver is lucky enough to have pants on. The Slayer snaps his chains as it comes screaming into the daylight, barrelling out of the bed. The force of Infamy’s awakening sends Enver rolling onto the floor, narrowly missing being crushed by the bedframe. He’s tangled in their sheets, and already lamenting that they’ll need to be replaced. This silk had come all the way from Waterdeep. That’s his first thought, even with his heart pounding in his ears. He struggles to free himself, but the Slayer isn’t coming for him. There’s the acrid smell of half-cast sorcery, and then the screaming starts. When something warm and wet splashes onto him, soaking through the sheets, Enver hopes it’s blood. The crunching of bones and the smell of bright copper gives him a little hope that it’s not something worse. It wouldn’t be the first time a would be assassin emptied their stomach or their bowels in terror before the Slayer. Enver unrolls himself at last, leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the show, even as the blood—and thank goodness it is blood—soaks through his nice sheets. The mess quite nearly defies description.

Callus (2k Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

“Oh, my dear, what a miserable turn of events.” Astarion kisses Lukan’s hair gently. “I could probably catch up with him, you know. Plenty of good alleyways in this end of town to drag him into, get him acquainted with my nice new boots. Sturdy enough to kick a man entirely to death.” “You got new boots?” Lukan can’t help a watery smile, desperate to redirect the conversation. He doesn’t want Thindulion killed. It had been bad enough to bury his mother, and as much as he wants to hate his father for abandoning them, he hates the thought of being orphaned even more. And now he knows he has a sister, and he couldn’t put her through that. “That’s beside the point,” Astarion says. “I’m asking if a little spot of patricide might cheer you up.” Lukan shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he says. He wants to try to make light, to play along with Astarion’s flippant turn of phrase, but it’s just too heavy. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I might have another idea, in that case,” Astarion tells him. “Why don’t you have a sit on the bed, get those boots off, and I’ll be back, having done precisely no murders, I promise.”

In the Spider’s Parlor (3.5k Tav/Kar'niss)

She peers over her shoulder at him and then rolls her head, exposing more of her neck. Suddenly his need, that wretched appetite, is not as hideous as it has been, he feels no disgust for what he wants, for the curse that makes him want it. There’s only this moment. He nips lightly, slipping his arms around her, embracing the warmth. He reaches out with his forelegs, feeling her, holding her securely as he had done that first time. He’s heard the sound she makes when letting blood, and now he knows it for what it is. Pleasure. His purr rumbles low in his chest, but he never bites, lapping softly at the thin rivulet of blood that wells from where he’s nipped her, one delectable drop at a time. Solinore reaches up, one hand tangling in his hair, relaxing in his grip. “What you ask of me, is yours,” Kar’niss says, applying pressure to the nick he’d made to stop what little bleeding he’d caused. “You sure?” she asks, playfully. “I could ask for another ride on your back. Or…” He knows what that smirk implies. “What you ask of me,” he says again, “is yours.”

#The Prior's Commissions #writing commissions #commission info #commissions open #bg3 fanfiction #dnd fanfiction #dnd characters

52 notes · View notes

zoesblogsposts · 1 year ago

Text

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

86 notes · View notes

littleflowers-1 · 6 months ago

Text

What’s your guys fave ED fueling shows?

Mine are

Super size vs super skinny

My 600 pound life/ my 600 pound life where are they now?

Too large

1000 pound sisters

Botched bariatrics

#@na motivation #analog #light as a feather #thinspø #⭐️rving #anor3c1a #tw ana bløg #tw ed ana #anorexla #anoresick #anorexies #tw ed not ed sheeren #tw 3d vent #tw ed descussion #tw edtwt #tw ed implied #tw ed trigger #tw eating issues

20 notes · View notes

twifairy · 1 month ago

Text

This week on extrapolating TGAA too much I'm gonna yap about Lady Baskerville's social status and how "Lady Baskerville" is never actually her name

So in Hound of the Baskervilles, the Baskervilles are baronets. That's so low on the rank of nobility that it's not always considered nobility at all, it's considered "landed gentry" which lines up with Genshin referring to her as a "lady of the gentry". (That said some nobles also hold baronetcies, and assuming Klint was say, an earl, his wife's title would be Dowager Countess following his death, and she'd still be called Lady van Zieks. I imagine Genshin was trying to at least offer some plausible deniability about her identity)

The Baskervilles in HOUN don't seem to have other titles though, and baronets/baronetesses are referred to by Sir/Dame and then their first name, like Sir Henry and Sir Charles, Sir Hugo Baskerville.

Lady Baskerville's family (and the Baskervilles in HOUN) however are EXTREMELY rich. Balmung's collar is estimated at 1000 pounds. 1000 POUNDS IS INSANE IN MODERN MONEY LET ALONE VICTORIAN MONEY.

In HOUN this is the amount Sir Charles Baskerville leaves in his will to a friend. It's also the amount he leaves to Mr. and Mrs. Barrymore, his house staff. It's barely a dent in his money. The full Baskerville estate is worth an insane amount:

All of which Lady Baskerville has at least some access to, with Klint receiving the dog collar.

So Klint married a very rich woman, but i think it's also true he married someone of far lower status than himself (though her money likely made up for it and I truly can't imagine Klint as someone who would've given a shit. Are YOU going to insult Lord van Zieks' beautiful bride? The guy who killed 4 people via dog? The dog HER solid gold 1000-pound collar is on? I don't think so)

Personally I headcanon Lady Baskerville as a baronetess— a very rare title since it requires a woman to inherit the baronetcy herself. There have only been 4 baronetesses in history. In addition, the sister or daughter of a baronet is not entitled to be called anything other than their name. Meaning "Lady Baskerville" is just Miss Baskerville. A commoner, functionally.

Upon her marriage to Klint, she becomes Lady van Zieks. A lot of people headcanon the Van Ziekses as earls, making Lady van Zieks a Countess.

As a side note she's also never actually called Lady Baskerville in game but I think it's fun we collectively used her maiden name instead of her married name and that's what her wiki page says

#tgaa2 spoilers #lady baskerville #i love her as a theoretical character so much #we can rly only extrapolate what she was like based on the people around her but she is so #look at all these words i typed based on a grayscale picture and no dialogue #not every character NEEDS to be a whole fleshed out human person i think— esp when the point is her disconnection from her child #but i do wish this game had more uhhh alive adult women.#klint van zieks #oc: lillian baskerville #< “oc” tag for her

9 notes · View notes

that-one-kiddo-in-the-back · 5 months ago

Note

Couple of things:

1.) You know, for someone who’s PINNED POST on her Tumblr is “all of the accusations are false” and “don’t ask about my abusers or stalkers”, Lily sure can’t shut up about you or any of the crit channels. Lily fans really just need to stfu and stop reporting every little thing to her, and Lily should just stop reacting to it (I mean, I’m sure Lily figures all this stuff out herself anyway, but still)

2.) So your claims that Lily SA’d you when you were younger are invalid because…you were taller than her growing up. Sorry, but I looked at the picture she used for reference and I don’t really see a clear advantage there. Even taking out the accusations are that she was doing this WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, abusers come in all shapes and sizes and being physically weaker than someone doesn’t really matter when it comes to sexual violence, especially if it’s from someone you at one point cared about.

You hear stories about wheelchair-bound abusers, elder abusers. Yeah, the victim may have a physical advantage against them, but that doesn’t matter if the psychological abuse prevents them from fighting back. It’s not hard to unpack why Lily’s argument holds no weight.

No more she throws the “no u” at you, the more obvious it is that she’s just trying to hide her crimes. It’s just…vile.

Everything you said is 1000%, correct.

1) It's because she's a narcissist. Lily (to use an extreme) almost reminds me of the big brother from 1984 she has me and others blocked, but she also won't stop talking about the "enemy" and how the "enemy" is transphobic, racist, and fascist. She has her followers scout out what the "enemy" has said and reports back to her so her can fuel her two minutes of hate. I'm pretty sure if Lily acted like an adult, then she wouldn't have as much criticism towards her, but of course, that'd be like asking for snow in Egypt (possible but won't happen in this lifetime)

2) I'm pretty lucky to have never had the misfortune of meeting Lily in person, and my heart goes out for all of her victims, those who are speaking out and those too scared of being doxx to speak up especially Courtney who was not only abused by Lily but also her brother. I can safely say I have never seen someone pull an uno reverse card on a person who came out about abuse. That shit was mesmerizing, and like you said, she uses the "No u" bullshit for almost everything. Say she doesn't have meda literacy, no, you don't have meda literacy. Call her out for being racist no you're the racist one. Brings up that she SA'd her sister um actually she SA'd me. Most of the time, when someone is bringing up SA or abuse, the abuser usually will just say no, that's not true, or no, I have never met that person before not say "uM, aCtUalLy i'M ThE VicTIm HeRe."

I hate this idea that she put in her head that every abuser is some muscular meat head that's could be on an episode of my 600-pound life or every sex offender has a comb over and could be on SVU. Or that the victim is always a small little bean that couldn't lift a gallon of milk. The fact of the matter is that everyone can be abused, and everyone can be an abuser. Age, sex, height, and looks don't matter as long as you have some semblance of power over the person. When you say, "I can't be the abuser the victim was bigger, older, uglier than me." You are undermining abuse victims that could "theoretically" fight back or escape. Abuse isn't just physical it's emotional as well.

Not that she could be bothered to learn that.

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #lily peet #justiceforcourtney

12 notes · View notes

unhinged-summer-fun · 2 months ago

Text

the foolish heart's guide to not repeating history - chapter 3

Pairing: Dream of the Endless "Morpheus" x F!Reader

A/N: happy turkeys everyone, sorry I haven’t updated common grounds I am also eager for me to write it

series masterlist

chapter 3: elsewhere, elsewhen

Around 1000 B.C.E.

“Well, aren’t you a treat?”

The dripping red interior of the Heart of Desire is as slippery as it looks. You have to truly search for your footing before you find it, and even then, your center of gravity seems infested with butterflies. “It’s nice to meet you, Desire.”

Their golden eyes turn icy. Desire is caught off guard by your familiarity and assertion that this meeting can be summed up as nice. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one of you.” Curiosity can be an element of Desire—wanting to know more and see more. After all, they’re one of the more inquisitive siblings of the Endless, always sticking their nose in their siblings’ businesses.

“No, you haven’t.”

Their bright red lips turn down into a sneer when you don’t elaborate. They sweep closer to you in a sensual burst of summer peaches. Like the white eyes of Destiny and the green eyes of Destruction, the golden eyes of Desire seem to see you in a way that strips you bare and still finds you concealed and mysterious. Wanting, in every sense of the word.

“You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” They like to play games. More than that, they like to win. You have become a curious opponent to them, one they have not yet puzzled out a victory against. Even when besting an enemy becomes standard, Desire never offered something like mercy to them.

They certainly never offered it to Dream.

It’s that thought that chills your once-cordial voice.

“You don’t know me. I am not from here. I am from somewhere much further from here than even you can fathom. I am of something much older than you can imagine. And I wish to talk with you.”

A tittering laugh bubbles from their throat, beautiful and melodic but shaken. “Then let’s talk.”

“I will keep this short. You are to stop this game you have started against Dream. You do not possess the hindsight of Destiny nor the foresight of Delirium, but I do. You may not like being told what to do, but I promise you that your days shall be numbered upon one hand should you continue this path, Desire. Tell me you understand this.” Your voice shakes the floor beneath you, like the pounding heart of a hunted deer.

“I understand,” they say instantly.

“You think you are protected by the promises made by the Fates, so long as you adhere to the rules. You are mistaken. In continuing this path, all blood spilled will fall upon your hands, and while my sisters can be kindly, I will not be; do not cross me.” You draw nearer to them through your promises, and your breath blows with the chill of the Wind Between Worlds. “I know your nature. You believe there is little you have to lose in doing this. You are mistaken. The scorpion goes down alongside the creature they kill. Do not make me an enemy, Desire of the Endless.”

Their beautiful face becomes drawn with badly concealed fear. It was very, very rare that a being could overpower an Endless, and even rarer did those beings give the equivalent of a shovel talk. Over several minutes of breathless, stunned silence, respect and curiosity eventually fade into their eyes.

“Thank you for the advice. I will take it.” They are not happy to admit it. Neither are you. But the word of an Endless is impossible to recant.

“Thank you.” You smile. It’s fanged. “For your promise, I will not leave this gift unrepayed. You may ask me one question, and I will give you one answer.”

The tension dissipates at the recognizable meter of the Fates—a boon has been offered. Much like the Endless, the word of the Fates, when recanted, would destroy all it touched. Desire knows they have momentarily taken the upper hand.

Desire considers you like a predator watching its prey, wolf-golden eyes warming into a primal kind of mischief—the kind that gleams the same as any trickster-god you’d ever met. Though logic dictates that their question would not harm you, you feel the shift in the air that speaks of sour intentions.

You’re mistaken. The question does hurt.

“Do you really think he’ll love you?”

The Hum tells you every answer to their question instantly, and the overwhelming result is—

“No.”

Desire looks shocked—like they weren’t expecting you to answer, let alone give that answer. But they asked what you think, not what you believed or hoped. You don’t owe them either. You nod your head in conclusion to the conversation and walk to their Gallery.

“But why are you—?” Their words cut off when they remember the terms set to ask questions of the Fates. Not wishing to incur another debt to you, they quickly change tactics. “Pursuing a cold heart like Dream’s when you don’t think he’ll love you back seems… foolish.”

“It would, to you,” you shrug. “I don’t pursue this thinking he’ll love me. Not this time. But I am alone in that opinion. Farewell, Desire.”

“See you around,” they say, and you fall away away away into the Sunless Lands.

Gallery-to-gallery is the right move. It tickles you that Death has living quarters, and the family picture on the wall is touching, if a bit ridiculous. As if all of the Endless would sit that close for something like that.

The door slams open within moments of your arrival. Death herself charges in, bearing that thunderous expression that all seven siblings share. She rarely frowns, but the strange nature of… well, everything about your presence is troubling at best. However, you have the blessings of your sister-selves. For all your doubts about belonging, their approval fills you with loads of confidence.

“Hello,” you say, clasping your hands before you. She looks you over with an arcane kind of concentration, but she flinches back at whatever she sees.

“…hello.”

Reminding yourself that these people are not your friends would be best. In another place, another time, she liked you. She trusted you. You were friends. You knew she liked the honesty and the simplicity of those who knew what they wanted. “I have not been here long. I have little to trade that you would want, and I am in no place to ask favors, but I would ask your patience to hear a story, and I would make a request.”

She peers into you, her brown-black eyes wise and keen. She tilts her head and doesn’t comment on the reason for your visit. There is no reason for her to doubt your intention, only your motivation. She must recognize the self-same energy that Desire had, for she does not ask a question of you outright. “I did not awaken you.”

You shake your head. “I am… I believe the best word is a prototype.” More like a scrapped concept.

“I’ll say,” she says, the ghost of a smile stretching her lips. It’s generally a good sign, humor. You’re only ever wary of it from Desire. “You feel like the Fates. Requesting something of me seems redundant. You’re exceptionally powerful in your own right.”

“I’m actually not. Think of me as a savage weapon whose blows never land.”

“So what is your story?” she asks, eyes gone serious. “Start from the end.”

The Hum senses the question in the air, and shows you darkness, sadness, heartbreak—all your own. But that is not the story you came to tell.

“Dream will die.”

In every universe, Death and Dream were all but twins. The connection they share, the deep family ties and affection—they have at least this in every universe. You see the same kind of pain in her eyes that you remember from the funeral.

You did not anticipate her asking for your point before you’d attempted to make it, so reordering the elements of your story takes a few moments with your eyes closed, settling the Hum once more.

“Dream will die, and you will collect him as you collected your sister. He will be killed by the Kindly Ones, but not until his kingdom has been shaken to the firmaments, countless innocent beings destroyed, and every scrap of happiness has been ripped from him repeatedly until he has no more choices than to accept it.

“I am not from here, no. I am from a place where all this happened before my eyes. It is similar enough to this place that the history there is doomed to repeat itself here. Mistakes were made in the place I come from. He made mistakes, everybody in his family made mistakes, starting as far back as his father. Each of us made stupid, prideful mistakes. I don’t intend for them to happen again. The Endless are accused of inability to change. But this is not true. They change too slowly to be noticed. And in his case, too slowly to save himself.” You plead with her to understand.

“Then that is his fate, terrible as it is!” Tears choke her voice. Perhaps she also smells the scent of death upon him. Perhaps her brother smelled the desolation in his bones long before you noticed it. By the time you had, it had been too late for him. “No matter your intentions, to recant the word of the Fates is impossible. This is his fate, disastrous as it is.”

“It does not have to be.” The rattling in the walls responds to the timbre of truth in your voice.

Her eyes cast about the room, watching the family portrait go still on the wall. She waits for the goldfish bowl to stop trembling before she turns to you again.

“Who are you?”

Hmmm—stars, void, chill—I suggested he create a sword—why should I stay on the path?—pristine sand behind you—a ceaseless—hmmm—friend—you truly do belong with him, don’t you—hmmm …

“I’m someone who wasn’t built to belong. But Dream made me feel like I did, for a while. And I owe it to him to… to make sure he’s still able to do that.”

Death considers your motivations.

“He doesn’t tolerate anyone’s meddling in his affairs, you know. Even from me. Even from… whatever you are.”

Ouch. You wince and cross your arms, fidgeting a little as you further course-correct. This wouldn’t be as easy as shaking down Desire. “It wouldn’t be as direct as that.”

She matches your posture, crossing her arms and giving you a look of disbelief. “He wouldn’t consider it that way if he ever found out.”

“I know that. Just… hear me out, please. I’m not trying to prevent you from… doing your job or anything, but… let me start over, and tell you the story I wanted to… before you asked to spoil the ending.”

A flash of macabre amusement crosses her face before she stifles it back down. “Why don’t you have a seat? Would you like a drink?”

This is so off course from what you thought this conversation would be that you accept. The Hum seems to have short-circuited at the hospitable not-questions Death had asked. Why don’t you have a seat? Indeed, why not? A drink between friends should always be accepted. Once the wine has been poured (red wine, very appropriate, very appreciated), she crosses one leg over another and leans back, waiting. Go on, then, the tilt of her head says.

You can’t look at her as you speak.

“Grief is powerful, you know? It’s… I know you’re not responsible for all of it. Actually, you’re not responsible for any of it. We are all accountable for our own grief. But also our anger, and disgust, and… and happiness, and peace. We are ultimately responsible for confronting it, grabbing hold of it, and letting it go before it does any harm.

“But going through it alone, doing the work alone, it’s impossible, for the big griefs, and angers… for the smaller ones as well. Mortals, gods, the Endless, and everybody in between—anybody who feels anything—are not exempt from that rule.

“Even the half-Endless son of a muse.”

Death goes still, tense with realizing who you’re talking about, and where your story starts. Death would come for everyone eventually, but occasionally, she would know about some well ahead of time. She has appointments to keep, after all.

And tomorrow is Orpheus’ wedding. You do not have time to waste.

I believe she wouldn’t find it very funny to begin with a sing in me, muse, but it amuses me to think about. Right. Sorry. I don’t know for sure where differences in this universe and the next begin and end, but—I’ll make a few guesses to the similarities:

Dream has not grieved his lost loves; he has not mourned the deaths of the friends he insisted he was indifferent towards. He has not confronted his anger toward his father nor his loathing toward his mother and chooses to wait out the storm of his every emotion. He has traded his peace and happiness for the sake of responsibility to his function.

Really, for someone so obsessed with responsibility in the first place, his personal responsibilities have been neglected to the point of certain doom. He has not changed this part of himself for ten billion years.

Am I off the mark?

No, I thought not.

But Orpheus is young. Extremely young. He is a child. And as much as his father may wish it, Dream cannot wait out his son’s grief over what’s coming because what is coming will be disastrous in cosmic proportions.

You already know the ending.

When Eurydice passed away, Orpheus, unable to accept her departure, denied himself the right to mourn her, even refusing to attend her funeral. This denial of grief would lead him down a path of tragedy.

He had been taught that his father’s family moved the stars; why couldn’t they help him? On some level, he knew beseeching his grandfather Zeus would not yield him the results he wanted. He instead went to the Dreaming to beseech his father for aid in bringing back his bride.

In response to his son asking for help, Dream proved incapable of helping him grieve. In Orpheus’ eyes, he’d been betrayed.

It’s important for this tale to note that Orpheus was not an Endless, but his blood still bound him to the ancient laws set by the First Circle. He had, through youthful hubris, broken the same law his father had seven thousand years before: that an Endless could not love a mortal.

At first, I couldn’t parse what the Circle was thinking with that rule, but when I saw the ruinous path that grief and loss spurred them both toward, I understood: the Endless that chose to love and feel enough to grieve were more likely to grieve when they loved and felt things for mortals, for loss was ever so close at hand.

That’s the trouble with mortals: they die.

Dream’s perceived indifference to his son’s pain led Orpheus on a ruinous path. From his hurt, he denied Dream as his father and asked his uncle to open a door to your realm—so that he might convince you to bring back Eurydice. Of course, you’re a professional, so you told him she’d already gone to Hades.

But Orpheus did not know the truth of the afterlife: one’s final destination is ultimately the choice of the one who died. That upon their arrival to the Sunless Lands, there was a place for them, somewhere they belonged… where they need not grieve, need not anger, need not do anything but be. Some souls choose to punish themselves for all eternity, and some leave their fates in the hands of the gods. His wife had gone to Hades. She had made her peace with it.

You do not choose where they go. You show them the options and all the doors available to them. They go through those doors themselves.

You tried to tell him, but he did not hear your advice. The moment you denied him, all he heard was another betrayal from his kin, and his grief worsened and deepened.

He asked you for a favor.

He asked you to bring her back, but you would not. It went against your function. Orpheus believed himself clever when he asked you to let him try to get her himself, to petition Hades himself for the return of his love. You warned him what this would mean should he fail or succeed, but he was a child, and had not even lived his life. He did not truly know what it meant when he traded his death, his choice in the afterlife, for the opportunity to divest Eurydice of her own.

He was a child.

He was Dream’s child, though. And he’d do foolish, ruinous things for love. As a father would ruin themselves for their children’s happiness.

Ultimately, Orpheus’ attempt to retrieve Eurydice was in vain. As the tale goes, he was given one chance by Hades to walk from his House to the land of the living, leading Eurydice behind him. Should he turn to ensure she was there, he would lose her forever. He could have walked through the darkness for years, uncertain if she was following. His impulsivity could have been the thing that turned his head. Some accounts say he was tormented by the sound of her agony, others say she asked him to look back. But his desire to see her outweighed his desire to save her, leading to his ultimate failure.

I like to believe that he finally understood what you meant when he turned. That she’d found a place she’d chosen for herself, one where she uniquely belonged because she wished it. And because of his selfish wants for her to belong beside him, he was putting both of them through more and more suffering, an endless kind of suffering.

Given time, love, understanding, and the opportunity to grieve and heal from his hurt, he could have figured it out. I spent three thousand years ruminating about this, and had even asked him about it myself. But the lesson was only learned when it was too late, when the Furies had doomed him in divine retribution for making them weep.

After his failure, Orpheus spiraled into despair and apathy. He ignored his mother’s attempts to protect him from the fate trudging toward him. He let himself be torn apart by the Bacchante, and his head landed in the sea, undying but unliving now, too.

Thousands of years later, he would ask Dream for a boon in exchange for a prophecy. His boon was death, and his father did not deny him. This lifted the protections of the Fates, and when vengeance came knocking in the Dreaming, his doom opened the door, and he died. His death was a direct result of his actions and inactions, a tragic end to an existence overflowing with love and grief.

You’d glossed over much of the unpleasantness of Dream’s downfall but feel you had made your point adequately.

Death looks troubled, though you aren’t as familiar with this face as you were in the other universe. “All this happened where you came from?” she asks, frowning at you.

Hmmm—She is dead. You are alive. So live.—

“Elsewhere. Elsewhen.”

“What would you have me do? Not collect Eurydice at all? Refuse my nephew of his bargain? Break the blood bond myself?”

“No.” You finish your wine in one go to silence the buzzing in your ears. “Changing those courses of fate would be too much of an intervention, and that future would not last long before the band snapped back into place. I ask you to talk to your nephew. Give him the wisdom he deserves before his father can harden his heart. Sit with him as long as is necessary, and grieve his loss with him.”

“Telling Dream to simply not be an ass when the time comes seems like the most natural intervention point.” She gets up to grab more wine.

“It’s not my place to live anyone else’s life for them. Dream’s place is not to live his son’s life in his stead. He won’t give that advice because he doesn’t believe it. Because he doesn’t believe that grief will end or that hatred can pass. And like his son, he wouldn’t believe it until too late. By saving Orpheus from his folly, Dream can be saved. It won’t be instantaneous, but he will be safe.”

You accept another glass of wine and allow her another question. “And what’s your place in all this?”

The Hum, for once, is curious to know the answer and does not give it to you.

“I want him to be able to change and live a life free of the unhappiness I explained.”

“You love him.”

“I do.”

She’s pleased with your quick answer and delighted by your ready reply.

“Were you lovers, then?”

You laugh, nearly spitting out your wine. “That seems awful familiar of you to ask a stranger.”

She shrugs, amused with herself. “He dazzles his lovers, but never any to the point of changing his fate,” she explains. “I do not want to know the details, but I am curious about the context.”

“I love him,” you affirm. “I have loved him for ten billion years. He has loved me for a blessed some of that time.”

“So doing all this is done in an effort to be with him again.” She frowns at you.

“Absolutely not,” you scoff. “It is impossible to grieve someone like Dream. He’s never really gone. Staying there, in that universe where he both was and was not, where fractured pieces of him live in the borders of reality and dreams, I… there, he was living life how I had done for ten billion years. Never belonging, never making a mark where I wanted. I never had him, so how could I lose him? And how do you grieve someone who isn’t lost at all? In the end, all he did was change.”

“You grieve them by letting them go. You don’t turn around to check if they’re behind you. You walk through your existence ever onward, hoping they are there with you but accepting that you’ll never know.”

It’s a solid truth if you’ve ever heard one. “It is not in my nature to accept fate as it comes. I am the savage weapon that severs any hand that would cut the strings of whom I love. I refuse to let him go. Not without trying to fix things first. This time, it will be different.”

Your words shake the walls again, but Death doesn’t look away this time.

“It will be different,” Death repeats to herself. “Let me get this straight: you want me to have a conversation with my nephew to convince him to accept his wife’s fate and not make a foolish bargain with me so that he will… ultimately not kill his father three thousand years later?”

“That’s not exactly what I asked… but yes.” You grimace. “I’ve already put other protections in place, but this is… I don’t want him to hurt like I know he would. He seeks enough suffering on his own.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then laughs. “He really is the same there as he is here.”

“I’d guessed.”

She deliberates your question with careful thought. “Alright,” she murmurs, nodding her head. “I think I have my answer, but I have a few more questions for you.”

“Ask away.” You brace for the Hum.

“You mentioned not belonging. What do you mean by that?”

“In the other universe, I didn’t show up in history or memory, except for the memories of the Endless, my sisters, and infrequent circumstances outside of that. I think it stems from pissing off Destiny or something. From what I’ve seen of this universe, the rules seem to be the same. I didn’t quite start off on the right foot with your older brother here, either.” It’s a complicated theory, but a theory you’re used to. It’s sound enough that the Hum seems to agree.

“Will you just walk away after all these plans are set? You wouldn’t want to… I don’t know, pursue him?”

“Dream of the Endless does not allow himself to be courted,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I told you I’m not doing this with any underhanded attempt to be with him or set myself up in that position. And it’s true. The clearer I keep my motives, the better. I want to spare him and his son the unhappiness of at least the next three thousand years. Or at least, spare them what I can.” Happiness and peace are the two things Dream did not allow himself. He’d be able to find them safely, at the very least.

“So what will you do when this is done and he is… saved?”

You shake your head, the Hum sending permutations rolling and rolling and never settling.

“I have no idea.”

INTERLUDE

#unhingery #TFHGTNRH #dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman fanfiction #the sandman #dream of the endless

17 notes · View notes