#Allow Spacing Between Cells of Table

[strawberryfatstuff]

escape

Imagine being stuck in a cell, with a ginormous feast being placed in front of you every day and only allowed to leave once you can eat it all in one sitting

You wake up, disoriented. you look around, nothing in your dark surroundings but a bed and a table. suddenly, you hear a commotion of people in robes, faces covered, rush to bring something onto the barren table in your cell. They disappear in a flash, all that’s left behind is an absolute banquet. A feast that could overfeed about 30 people at a buffet, piled with junk food. Rich creamy pastas, pizza stacked upon pizza, a plate of burgers piled high enough you wondered how it hadn’t fallen over, and piles upon piles of sugary desserts with the most delicious smells filling the room. You wonder if this was supposed to be your last meal, but your thoughts were cut short, by the greedy rumblings of your belly. You were starving, and decided there was nothing else left to do but dig in.

Almost a year has gone by, but to you it had felt like a lifetime. You would wake, stuff yourself with reckless abandon with no fear of judgement or consequences, and go back to sleep. There was no way to tell how often the meals were being brought to you, in fact the only way to tell that time had passed at all was what it had all been doing to your body. When you had first woken up, you had been reasonably thin, maybe a small potbelly from the occasional lack of willpower from time to time but nothing to worry about. Now however, you had grown immensely. If there had been any chance of holding back in attempt to save your figure it had long since flown out the nonexistent window. Your belly had swelled outward, inflated, and sagged lower, you had noticed any sights of what had been your feet had become less and less frequent. Your legs had become heavy with fat, the fat on your thighs threatening to overlap your knees, and the beginning signs of cankles showing on your calves. Your tits had grown substantially, with rolls forming along the sides making your puffy arms rest a little higher than they had before. However, you had certainly done a number on that buffet, having before only been able to stomach a pizza at most you had started to get creative, wrapping burgers with entire pizzas and shoving them into your rapidly swelling gut with as much force and speed as you could. It was the only pastime you had really, so you made the most of it by constantly testing the bursting point of your greedy gut.

It had been a few years of endless feasting before you had begun to notice your mobility diminishing. You were now able to eat enough to feed a large family before slowing down, but your travel from your bed had begun leaving you winded, and took great deal of effort to take your lumbering waddle over to your meals. Your stomach of course, the culprit. Its rolls had swelled with fat so much it now hung down past your knees, fighting your wobbling thighs for space. your knees and feet had long since been covered by the swell of constant calories you had been shoving in. Your elbows had long since disappeared under the size your upper arms had ballooned to. The next day you had woken up, with the familiar smell of food filling your senses, and attempted to get out of bed. You struggled to gasp for air, trying with feeble attempts to propel yourself with enough momentum to get forward, and more importantly, your meal. Each attempt was rather hindered by amount of gut covering your lap. Suddenly, the masked people reentered into your room, and instead of leaving the food on the table, they pick it up piece by piece and began feeding it to you. One after another they stuffed greasy food straight into your greedy belly. The speed they each filled your mouth was almost too fast to chew, forcing you to swallow bigger bites as quickly as you could. “Please, go a little slower” you tried to call out between bites of food, but only one of them replied, “Too bad, you should have never been as greedy as you were in the first place. Fat fucks like you don’t get a say in this matter.”They continued to stuff your face, and once you had eaten enough to feel sick of your usual feast, you cried for them to stop. They fed you their last handfuls, and quickly as they had came, they left. One lingering long enough to instal what looked like a hose coming out of the ceiling.

The next time you awoke, you expected to to greeted by your usual meal of the table, but you noticed that the table had been removed from your room entirely. The only thing that caught your eye was the hose they had left the day before. Starving, you placed it in your mouth and began to suck out of desperation. You were instant met with what tasted like the blend of greasy food you had been eating for years. you noticed at the corner of your bed they had also left a small device, with words _ out of _ eaten. The lights being too dim to properly read, you cast it out of your brain and begun swallowing. It felt so good, the constant flow of calories filling your overstretched gut. You watch it rise with every gulp you fill it with, greed and lust overpowering you with the desire to fill it as big as possible. There was no way to tell how long you spent swallowing, only the rapid expansion of your body. each time you took a nap you would awake with your belly before you looking visibly larger then it had before.

This continued for what felt like eons, a never ending cycle of consuming and growing. your feet had been consumed completely, your arms stuck at a permanent angle, the fat surrounding your head keeping it in place, and your belly. So large it had grown over your swollen feet, and threatened to cover the rest of the bed. One day, as you swallowed, you heard a beep. You wondered if it had been the strange device that had long since been hidden under the concerningly large rolls swelling out from your massive gut. Just then, you were blinded by a bright light, as the door to your cell cracked with dust and opened, with the masked people watching you from the hallway connected. A familiar voice from among them, “You’re free to to go whenever you want fatty, the doors wide open.” And laughed. They all had begun laughing, shook their heads, and walked away. You paused swallowing to see if you could still escape, and tried to move your feet for the first time in ages. The response you received was a ripple of fat that jiggled your whole body. What had been so great about the outside world away? Your belly growled, it’s lust to be filled overpowering any thought you had remaining. You caress your growing belly, and continue to swallow.

[a-killer-obsession]

OKAY I DID IT, I FIGURED OUT THE LAYOUT

Disclaimer: it seems like the size of the ship changes every time we see it, but the newest eps vs wano seem pretty consistent so I went with that and used Wire's height for scale

Floor layouts under the cut ✂️

Edit: you can find clearer/more detailed versions here

Layout based on the 31 member crew that Oda confirmed. I also took in to account that a significant portion of the members are fucking massive, so everything is bigger which matches the scale it's drawn in. Floors are approx 5m high with 2m wide doors in most places, which makes sense when a good portion of the crew are 3m tall.

Sorry about my handwritting lmao I'm so tired but I have serious brainworms and couldn't sleep

The specifics:

Kid's Floor

Of course he has his own floor

Quarters include his own private dining space which I imagine would also include a workdesk, bedroom with king sized bed and probably a couch, walk in closet, and bathroom definitely large enough for a massive tub

Workshop also has bathroom entrance for when he's feelin lazy

Ladder space in the middle goes straight through, this is so crew going to the castle deck don't access his floor

Commander's floor

Heat, Wire and Killer have their own rooms and a private lounge just for them and Kid

Heat and Wire share a large bathroom, definitely big enough for normal bath

Heat and Killer have king sized beds, Wire's bed is almost as wide as a king but mostly it's made especially long

Small decking that runs the whole way around, unspoken rule that crew aren't allowed there since windows peer into commander's rooms

Killer could probably fit a drumkit in his room 👀

Cannon Deck

We get peeks of this in the anime and in Oda's notes but they're fuzzy so I just did my best

Made a mistake tho, cannon platform should be whole way around back like a U shape to account for 3 cannons facing backwards, total 9 cannons

Theoretically this is where the helm should be so uh that's where I put it

Screenshots make it look like they also store a lot of other weapons here

Main deck

Forecastle includes navigation room with bookcases, central table, and desk for paperwork

Forecastle also has infirmary with two longer than normal beds to account for larger crewmates, and a desk for crew doctor to keep notes

Door between nav and infirmary cos Kid is lazy

Kitchen and pantry. Given the rooms are 5m from floor to ceiling I imagine that pantry would have a small mezzanine accessed by a ladder to take advantage of vertical space (and would be a sick place to nap)

Galley/dining hall contains 3 bench style tables, seating 10 large crewmates each, with one extra fancy chair at the end of one for Kid

Lower deck

Did my best to do some math to figure out how many larger than normal beds were required and decided on 6 bunks for 12 larger crewmates

Additional rooms for average sized crewmates include 4 rooms with 2 bunks each, and one room with 1 bunk, making for a total of 30 beds below deck. That means, counting the commanders for the 31, there are currently 3 empty beds, so a few rooms aren't complete full

Probably looks like fuck all space but its actually significant for a ship living quarters

According to google you only need 1 toilet per 10 people and 1 shower per 40 but that seems like BS. Bathroom has 4 large, accessible sized toilets, 4 showers, long benches down the center and a long counter with plenty of space and mirrors for makeup, given how many crewmates wear it

Also, storage room. Could be converted to extra room for another bunk

Hold

Access via ladder

4 cells. No toilets, you get a bucket ✌️ tbh might not even have beds but there's room for em anyway

Desk in case they need to keep an eye on prisoners

3 storage rooms, but i think one of these would actually be a torture room. Probably the one by the desk.

Mechanisms for power and water are probably in one of these rooms as well as a lot of materials for ship repairs

Also of note

Crows nest is definitely big enough for a bench, definitely big enough for... activities. Not as big as the Sunny's though I dont think a gym would fit, I think it'd be more likely that gym equipment is kept on the cannon deck

Idk if the mizzenmast is supposed to go all the way through but that physically can't happen with where the helm needs to be based on screenshots so ✌️

Crows nests are definitely access via climbing nets

Please absolutely feel free to use this as a reference for fanfictions, but I'd appreciate a shout out if you do 💖

[shieldofiron]

Angry Again

Also on Ao3

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Breakup/Makeup, Happy ending don't worry, TW: Car collision, Hospital Visit

Billy's sure the phone is never going to ring.

After all, he's the one who walked out on Steve. He doesn't know what he's waiting for. Steve obviously deserves so much better. This is for the best. He knows it's the best thing for Steve, and he loves Steve more than anything.

Still, you'd think after six months he would be over watching the phone, but he can't help it. He's attached to it, in a way Heather says is definitely unhealthy.

It's just... he kept thinking if Steve would only call, angry. Show how much he cares about Billy, tell him to come back, or go fuck himself... if Steve just cared, Billy wouldn't be able to stop himself.

The only time he wasn't looking at it is when he's sleeping. So of course...

"Muhullo?" He mumbled into the phone, his four days old stubble brushing hard against the glass.

"Hello Mr. Hargrove, this is Amy at Hawkins General. I'm sorry to wake you. We're calling about a Steven A. Harrington. He's been admitted after a car collision and he appears to be stable.

""What?" Billy blinked. "Is he ok?"

"Can you confirm that you're the emergency contact for Steven Alessandro Harrington?"

"I... guess?" Billy mumbled, sitting up.

"Are you available to come to the hospital? He's stable but unconscious, and we have some questions about his medical history." 

Billy sucked in a breath, shame cratering out his stomach. "He has a history of concussions... two in high school and one from just after, he... is he ok?"

He heard typing in the background. "You should come soon, if possible."

Billy's heart was in his throat as he fumbled out a thank you and jumped out of bed, tossing on some pajama bottoms and a hoodie over his head. He grabs his wallet and then, at the last minute, a book. He might be waiting a while, he's not sure.

The drive passed in a blur, which is probably dangerous, given the circumstances. He wanted a cigarette or two or twenty but then he remembered he promised Steve he quit, and even though they’re not together… it’s still Steve.

He was sweating bullets as he came into the emergency room, but as he expected, he isn't allowed see Steve. He was still not family, and it was still late. He filled out Steve's paperwork and waited. He watched the tv playing reruns of King of Queens. He read, the words blurring together into nothing. He cried, when no one was there to see.

They wouldn't tell him anything, just that Steve is stable. Stable, stable, when Billy felt like a rickety table with the legs kicked out.

He had woken before he realized he was asleep, a hand on his shoulder gently squeezing.

"Mr. Hargrove?"

Billy squinted into the fluorescent light. There's a nurse and...

It was Steve, his hair curling over the edge of a neck brace. He looked a little haggard, but remarkably well, considering. He looked full and sweet and Steve, even if his hair is much longer than Billy'd ever seen it.

Billy looked down at his book. It was a copy Steve had given him for his birthday. A Separate Peace.

"He's free to go home, here's his care instructions," the nurse handed over a packet. "You'll want to monitor his concussion but he can sleep, he's allowed."

It felt like a dream. The nurse walked Steve through the discharge papers. Billy stood, useless except for his car. He didn't dare ask about Steve's right now.

And then they were sealed in the car, something antiseptic and sharp piercing the space like a lance. Steve's hand, his wrist loosely circled by a hospital bracelet, tightened on the door as if holding on for dear life, even though they weren't moving. Billy stuck his dead cell in the console. The only person he wanted to call was here.

"Are you ok?"

"I... yeah..." Steve said.

"Cuz they wouldn't tell me anything, just that you were stable."

He could hear Steve thinking, the gears turning to decide between bitchy and sincere.

Billy held his breath.

"A car hit me in the intersection. We were both fine, but I passed out in the ambulance. Concussion. No sign of swelling or anything." Steve said it dispassionately, and Billy's stomach sank. Bitchy at least meant Steve cared. He didn't sound like he cared at all.

Billy wanted to ask, why am I still your emergency contact? Why does this still hurt so much and when did it stop hurting for you? When will it stop?

"I'll just... take you home. Same place?" Billy forced the same dispassionate tone, sniffing slightly and squinting into the sun.

They'd been like this many times before. Not this exactly but. Steve playing passenger princess. Early morning rides to breakfast. Rides home after a night together.

"Same place." Steve said softly.

There's no music playing. Billy'd been too panicked last night and now he can't imagine anything more embarrassing than turning on top 40 right now.

They're almost in front of Steve's place way too soon. Way too soon, even though the ride was awkward as fuck. It was the last ride Billy would ever have, he was sure of it and he couldn't... didn't... want to let go yet.

Steve realized Billy's crying before Billy does. He urged Billy to pull over on the side of some random street and switched the gears into park.

"I thought.... I thought...." Billy's breath won't come. Nothing will come. No one will call, and if Steve hadn't left him as emergency contact, no one would have called and- "If you had died... if you had died, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..."

Steve pulled him across the console and this was all wrong, Billy shouldn't be the one being comforted but somehow, he was.

"I was so glad it was you," Steve said, his arms tightening with every word. "I'm glad you came. Fuck, I was so scared."

"It's my fault, Steve..."

"It wasn't your fault, Billy."

"It was. I left you," Billy took a deep breath, trying to haul himself back from the edge. Shame burned around his edges, his father's voice in his head told him that he was acting like a pussy.

"Oh. That. Yeah, that was your fault." Steve's voice sounds more amused than really mad.

"I... I'm so sorry, Steve. I didn't.... I wanted to... I thought you'd be better off without me," Billy whispered brokenly, pulling back.

"I'm..." Steve took a deep breath. "I want to talk about that later. Now I want to go to my apartment with you and rest. Is that ok?"

"Are you gonna be mad later?"

"Yeah, probably."

Billy smiled, a weak warbly thing. "Good."

He follows Steve up the stairs to Steve's little apartment, their hands knit together. They read the instructions and Billy slowly helped Steve into bed.

"I hate being fucking sick." Steve muttered.

"I know you do."

"I hope you know this means we're together again. Boyfriends. The full nine yards."

Billy's breath caught in the back of his throat.

"I know."

"Good. Now get into bed so I stop feeling like... ugh... that weird old Charles Dickens lady who never left her bed."

"Miss Havisham?" Billy smirked, teasing. "I can get you a wedding dress."

Steve huffed, his eyes starting to drift closed. "After I ask you. And after you promise never to pull this 'better for you' bullshit again. Fuckin'... wedding dress."

He had dark circles, and his hair was far too long, shaggy the way he hated it. Billy brushed Steve's cheek.

"I love you."

"I know," Steve's voice was drifting, half sleepy. "This doesn't mean I'm not pissed."

"I know."

[jordanstrophe]

we need more hostile turned docile whump!!!

I really like it when whumpee just accepts their fate and hopes it'll be over quick. or tries to find some comfort in the situation. if it's inescapable, it's best to accept, right? they do everything whumper asks and whumper either mocks them for it or gets annoyed since they enjoyed their struggle though personally I enjoy it more when it's around a caretaker. whumpee no longer fights or protests against care, either out of some form of trust or delirium, and draws different reactions from caretaker - surprised that they're complying? somewhat amused? relieved that it'll be done easier but concerned? yes please!! if it's delirium I think it's yummy when they're briefly panicking afterwards (they just let their guard down!!) but becomes calmer over time after seeing how caretaker handled them. bonus points if they're a bit embarrassed about it

Then here's a drsbble for you ♡

It burned to move. The more whumpee tried to fight the more it hurt.

Someone grabbed their shoulders and shoved them on the ground. Whumpee tried to knee off whoever was on them, but that hurt more than the person holding them.

"Get off me, it hurts!" Whumpee hissed behind gritted teeth. 

"I know." A firm voice responded. "Please stop moving, I'm trying to help you!"

Whumpee looked up, but their vision was blurred by the tears welling in their eyes. They let out an angry grunt before finally resting their head in defeat. They stopped fighting and allowed the stranger to tightly wind bandages around their numerous gashes. The sensation made them feel as though they were being restrained.  

Whumpee had only planned to conceive for a moment to regain their strength, but they ended up passing out on the floor.  

---

When they woke up, they expected to be chained up in a cell.

Instead, they were in a dimmed room laying on a bed. It was quiet, they were alone, and unchained. Panic built in their chest when they realized they were so weak they fell unconscious in the worst time possible.

Despite their body having shut down, they still felt like an idiot.

The room had little except a chair by the bed and an umbrella against the wall. Whumpee grabbed the umbrella and slowly opened the door from where rattling could be heard.

A figure hummed standing by the stove, they turned around when the door creaked and watched whumpee for a moment.

"Who are you?" Whumpee's voice cracked, causing pain with every word. They coughed and tried to clear their throat. "Where am I?"

"Good morning to you too," the stranger replied. "Put my umbrella down, please. You're not hurting anyone with that. As for where you are, you're in my home." The person shrugged.

"You brought me to your house?" Whumpee raised a brow.

They sighed and went back to stirring the pot. "I'm not your enemy. My name is caretaker. I was just lucky to find you when I did. Hungry?" Caretaker poured a bowl and set it on the table, nudging it in their direction. Whumpee squinted, their eyes darting between caretaker and the bowl.

They don't remember the last time they ate.

Slowly, they sat down at the table, keeping the umbrella on their lap. Their hand shakily slid the bowl toward them, never breaking their gaze from the stranger. The second their lips touched the soup, their guard seemed to drop. It felt like the warmest, most pure thing they had ever tasted.

Caretaker smiled and turned their back, giving whumpee the space to feel at ease.

"Thanks..." Whumpee mumbled quietly behind them, their voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Love Drunk

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 3 (Secrets)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Feelings are growing between Azriel, Y/N and Cassian. The only people who can’t see it are them.

Pairing Masterlist

A/N: This part is dedicated to @daycourtofficial because of our shared love for aphrodisiacs ❤️ I think this fic takes the cake for being my most unhinged.

Wordcount: 1.7K

Warnings: aphrodisiacs; sexual themes; very angsty; everyone is so clueless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･

After her rescue, Y/N quickly became a vital part of the Inner Circle and she had grown quite fond of her new friends. Especially Cassian and Azriel.

Both males were equally as smitten with Y/N, often bickering about who would get to carry her while flying and racing to sit beside her at family dinners. They only stopped injuring themselves after Rhys gave them some stern words. 

These affections had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. Everyone had clued into the growing feelings between Azriel, Y/N, and Cassian. Everyone except them of course. 

Though the males fought over her, they were both content enough with their friendship and didn’t want to ruin that. 

While Y/N enjoyed the flirtations and the distraction this offered, she didn’t allow herself time to dwell on her feelings. Instead, she opted to keep as busy as possible, in an attempt to fill the empty hole inside her. 

She could mend a broken bone in her sleep, but a broken soul… That was something she hadn’t quite figured out for herself. 

————

Months had passed, and everyone was getting increasingly frustrated with their friends. No amount of pep talks was making a difference. No one would make that first move.

So, the Inner Circle was bracing themselves for another evening of watching Azriel, Y/N and Cassian tiptoeing around the obvious. It was another typical family dinner since Y/N’s arrival, except it wasn’t.

“They look delicious, Elain,” Y/N gushes, slightly tipsy from the faewine. “Oh look! Mine is yellow. How did you know my favourite colour?” Y/N grabs the plate as Elain passes it to her and takes a bite. “Gods, you’re an incredible baker, Elain.”

Both Cassian and Azriel nod, agreeing with Y/N as they tuck into their cakes. 

Slowly, their expressions start to soften and their eyes start to glaze over. 

Y/N hiccups and starts to giggle uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” Elain asks.

Y/N pauses, considering. “I’m not sure,” she says before bursting into another fit of giggles. 

She doubles over, clutching her stomach. “I think— we’ve— been drugged,” she says breathily, trying and failing to regain control. 

Azriel and Cassian’s eyes meet and they too burst out laughing.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Y/N leans back, rolling off the lounge and onto the floor  

Running a hand through his hair, “Cauldron spare me, you guys go, I’ll look after them for now,” Rhys sighs.

Mor pats Rhys on the back. “Are you sure you don’t want backup?” she asks. 

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

The rest of the Inner Circle leave swiftly. Rhys pours another glass of wine and takes a seat at the dining table, preparing himself for a long night of babysitting his friends.

————

Reader

Bliss. 

That’s what you felt. 

Every cell in your body feels so light. Like you’re made of air, floating through space. 

It’s so peaceful. 

Your vision is slightly blurred, like a fog has settled in the room, curling around you. And yet, despite the haze - your head feels clear. 

You know what you want. 

You look at the two males before you. Gods. How did they get more beautiful? Your eyes flit between them, soaking in every detail. 

You lean forwards, to where they are sprawled on the floor in front of the lounge, empty glasses discarded beside them. 

You reach your hand out, meeting the force pulling you towards them, feeling the deep urge to— touch. 

Your fingers gently graze Cassian’s cheek. He turns to look at you, hazel eyes drinking in your entire being. 

“So beautiful,” you whisper, unable to hold the words back. You turn to Azriel, “Isn’t he?”

Azriel just nods, all words lost to him as he takes in your face. His expression is hungry. As if he could devour you whole. 

You inhale, and their scent hits you. 

Pure, unadulterated lust.

You exhale slowly as desire grows between your thighs. You know they can smell it on you, too. 

The Illyrians look at each other, predatory smirks on both their faces. They turn back to you, moving as one. Cassian licks his lips and Azriel moves forward, placing a hand on your knee.

The heat from his palm radiates up your leg and your core throbs. Your heart pounds in your ears, your breath quickens and you start to give in to the raw need swelling inside you. 

Your eyes go straight between Azriel’s legs, and the growing bulge. Your mouth goes dry and you let out an involuntary squeak as he trails his hand further up your thigh. Inching closer to your sex. 

Cassian leans forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You smell divine, I wonder if you taste just as good,” he whispers, his hands too light as they tease along your body.

You inhale sharply, heat rushing to your cheeks. You glance down to his crotch, where his hard length strains against his leathers.

“Our sweet girl,” Azriel purrs, “You always take such good care of us. Can we return the favour?”

You let out a soft mewl, shocked by their forwardness tonight, though every part of you yearns for them both. 

“I want you so bad,” Cassian murmurs, “Only if you want it too, angel.”

You resign control of your body over to your lust, the growing ache between your legs becoming too much to bear. 

You nod at the males before you. “Yes, please,” you beg. “I can’t take it any longer.” You stroke Azriel’s cheek and you reach for Cassian’s thigh. They both move closer until their lips make contact with your neck. They leave a trail of passionate kisses down each side. Your head rolls back as you’re overwhelmed by pure desire. 

You feel strong arms beneath you, lifting you off the floor. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” Azriel whispers. You nod, biting your lip and he carries you to his bedroom, with Cassian following close behind. 

————

You can’t recall the last time you slept that well. 

The bed is soft and warm and you’re surrounded by a red glow. The dream you were having slipped away, but left you with the feeling of safety and love. 

As you regain awareness, you realise someone is holding you. Not just one male, but two. And that red glow… That’s the sun is filtering through wings. Illyrian wings. 

They look so beautiful up close. The wings.

The membrane shines in the morning light. With each vein illuminated you can see the intricate paths across the surface, like the many branches that make up a forest.

You reach your hand up to touch one but pause before making contact, recalling what Cassian told you about them being sensitive. 

Cassian lifts his head and looks at you with a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he says groggily, “What happened?”

From your other side, Azriel stirs slightly in his sleep. You feel his arm tighten around you before retracting completely. He jolts back in the bed as he looks over your bare form. 

You try your best to hide your wince at his movements. You clear your throat before answering Cassian’s question. “I believe we were drugged with a love potion last night, a rather strong one.” 

 “Am I that ugly you need to be under the influence to share my bed?” Cassian teases you.

“Actually… That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Love potions only intensify feelings that already exist.”

“Oh,” Cassian says.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, until Azriel dares to break it. 

“So,” he starts, his voice taking on a nervous edge, “You have feelings for both of us?”

You look at Azriel, and then at Cassian before covering your face with your hands. You groan into your palms, utterly mortified by your predicament. 

Not only did you share a bed with them both, but they were now aware of your feelings - thanks to your big mouth.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you both in this position.” 

Cassian laughs nervously, “It’s not like it’s the first time we...” he trails off and both males shift awkwardly beside you, unsure what to say. 

You start to fidget with your hands as the anxiety builds and you’re unable to look them in the eye, to see whatever is it they are feeling. “Um, well, I’ve got things to do this morning, I’d better get up,” you say quietly.

Azriel slides out of the bed to let you up without a word. You grab your clothes that were strewn across the room, throwing your dress over your head. 

The tension in the room is palpable, and you wish your friends would say something. Anything to reassure you. 

You pause in the doorway, unsure if you should speak your mind. 

You turn your head towards the two silent males. “I’m really sorry,” you whisper, rushing out of the bedroom.

————

In the privacy of your room, you allow your tears to fall. Your chest heaves as the sobs wrack your body. 

How did I mess this up so badly? I can never look at them again… I’ll have to move courts.

You let yourself cry for a few moments before willing your body to be calm, pushing all your emotions down inside you to get on with your day.

You feel absolutely mortified that your friends now know what’s in your heart. 

The one thing you don’t consider is that both Azriel and Cassian feel the same way. 

————

Rhysand

Rhys swaggers into the kitchen where his family are seated having breakfast. He walks straight to Feyre, giving her a kiss on the cheek and ruffling Nyx’s hair, who is sitting in her lap. 

“Good morning, it seems our little potion worked some magic,” he smirks. 

“How mad do you think they’ll be once they find out?” Elain asks.

“Oh they’ll be thanking us,” Mor says, “Illyrians can be such dumb brutes, they never would’ve gone for Y/N without the push.”

 “Ouch, thanks Mor,” Rhys winks.

“You,” she says pointing at Rhys, “are the dumbest brute of them all!” He responds by sticking his tongue out as Feyre and Elain chuckle.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe

[thedeviltohisangel]

Love in the Echoes: The Return

a/n: this is fully dedicated to my beautiful, wonderful friend @gloryofroses19 ! i hope you had the most amazing birthday and the merriest of christmases and this is my gift to you. a love letter to our friendship (which i beyond cherish) and the absolutely amazing world we've built between our beloved ocs. i hope you enjoy !!!!

this is a continuation of my azriel x rhys' sister fic and @gloryofroses19 eris fics which can be found here

It was one thing to have her brother back from Under the Mountain. To hold him as he wept over the discovery of his mate. Rhysand had allowed her into his mind to witness the events as he had for those decades and she would never ask him to expose such a darkness to her ever again. If she hadn’t so many secrets to keep, she would have let him in to see what she had been up to for those decades. 

A more pressing matter was the disposition of her friend. Her best friend. Her sister. Who she hadn’t been able to receive a message of farewell from before their connection was sealed shut. Who hadn’t winnowed directly into her arms upon the breaking of the curse. Who hadn’t even reached out to her at all in the days that things had returned to a somewhat normal status around the land of Prythian.

“When do you think is appropriate for me to go to Dawn Court?” Meals were a small and quiet affair since Rhys had been back. Just the two of them with the occasional visitor of Mor or Cassian or Azriel but not yet all together as a group. That was going to take some further easing into. “I think I’ve been incredibly patient by waiting this long.” Lilli had eaten her eggs, bacon and blueberry muffin in complete silence as she waited for her brother to talk first. When he hadn’t, she took the opportunity away from him.

“Incredibly patient is not a descriptor that should ever be applied to you.”

“It’s been days! And none of her brothers have written or called through Celeste or arrived to provide me any kind of update.” 

“Perhaps they don’t feel as though you are entitled to one.” Perhaps they are so angry with me that they are taking it out on you. Lilli merely huffed in response.

“A ridiculous notion. I’m going to talk to Cyrus and see if tomorrow is a decent time for my arrival.” She pushed away from the table and stood with purpose. “You’re off to take care of the rogue war bands soon and I want the matter of Rory and her memory solved before you leave.”

“My capture didn’t negate my status as High Lord.”

“I’m aware. But you were my brother long before that title was ever hoisted upon you and my brother you will be long after we’ve faded away.” For all his posturing, he would do as his sister asked as he had always done. She was the only reminder of his mother and their shared sister that he had left. And he had promised their mother he would always care for her a little extra. Love her a little harder. It was a promise he would never even think to back away from.

“If that is your demand of me,” Lilli paused where she was halfway up the stairs, “then I have a demand of you.”

“No bargains, Rhysand. Not so soon.” Not when his mind was still fraying at the edges. Not when she had already learned of the one he’d made in the cells with his mate.

“You and Azriel must stop…pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

“That in the decades while I was away he wasn’t living here with you and sharing meals with you and putting that ring on your finger.” She caressed the hand with said ring against her chest.

“We were just trying to be respectful of your need for time and space.” Lilli hadn’t even wanted to tell her brother about the developments in her relationship with Azriel. Had thought it would be too much and too soon when he had only just gotten back. She had quickly realized the error of her thoughts when sitting next to him at a meal and not touching him was outright impossible. 

“Consider me sufficiently timed and spaced.” Rhys rose from his chair. “I know being together makes you two happy. I want to be able to share in that.”

“Happy seems too simple a word but, yes, that is the crux of it.” He walked around the table and came to stand at the banister, his height almost enough for their eyes to lock on the same plane. Lilli reached for his hand, also seeking the comfort of physical touch, and Rhys held onto her like she was his lifeline. 

“Then I look forward to learning the right word.” He kissed her knuckles and she smiled as she traced her fingers down the side of his face. After decades of the male not being in front of her she had been concerned she would forget what he looked like or what he sounded like or all the other odds and ends only a sister could know of her brother. Over the course of the days he had been home the lines around his eyes and the light behind them were coming back. But the wounds on the inside and the salt the knowledge of his mate being with another kept pouring into them, she didn’t know how to help heal. Maybe letting him into this new portion of her life could help. She was willing to try anything.

“I’ll let you know what Cyrus says,” she whispered as she began her ascent once again. “I’m going to wear purple. Make sure we don’t clash!”

----

For all the confidence she had been filled with the morning before, it had dissipated rather quickly upon her arrival in the Dawn Court. It had taken some convincing for Cyrus to welcome the High Lord of the Night Court to the Luca family home and Lilli had understood why completely. Aurora was in a tenuous state ever since she’d come back from Under the Mountain. Since Rhys had wiped her mind clean to protect the identities of his family and the location of Velaris but also to shield her from some of the memories of her treatment at the hands of Amarantha. The extent of the memory cleansing, Lilli did not fully know. But only one person would piece back together the glimmering jewel that was the mind of her best friend. 

“Lil, I’m not totally sure what of you she is going to remember,” Cyrus said in a hushed tone as he held her hand and led her towards the dining room. “Whatever your brother did-”

“He did to protect her. You know he would never hurt her, Cy. He loves her the same way he loves me. The same way you love her. Like a sister.” He looked like he wanted to argue, stomp his foot and say in this situation Rory was his sister and none of the others in the room could say that. Rhys, for his part, was giving them the space to converse. Lilli had been trapped in Velaris for the past decades and also hadn’t seen Cyrus. A male she had spent many years loving before the whole world had fallen apart.

“Of course but…well, I can’t explain it. You’ll just have to see it.”

“Please do not let me walk in there blind. If she is hurt or sad you know I will not be able to stand it.” In fact, she could already feel tears welling in her eyes over the mere thought of her best friend being in pain.

“Cyrus? You didn’t tell me we were expecting visitors.” Lilli had imagined this moment a million different ways. There was a version where Rory came straight to Velaris and they hugged until the sun rose and had to be pried apart by Cassian or one of her brothers. A version where Lilli flew across the skies of Prythian to reach the Dawn Court to welcome her home in one big cocoon of love with her brothers. Before Azriel, there had been a version where her and Cyrus use the joy to announce their wedding. After Azriel, there had been a version she welcomed her home with the news she was going to be an aunt. Endless ways all to reach the same end. Two halves of a whole coming together after too long apart.

In none of these instances was Rory looking at her blankly. With no recognition. With an assessing up and down of her gaze that Lilli had seen her use on strangers in the markets many times before. Strangers. Not sisters.

“Hello, my name is Aurora, Cyrus’ older sister. And you are?” Lilli couldn’t find the words to answer. They were trapped in her chest underneath her heart that was trying to shatter into oblivion while also pumping like she was on the verge of battle. 

“This is my sister, Lilliwen. It is so good to see you in your home,” Rhys sounded every bit a High Lord as he emerged from the shadows and attempted to save his sister from the silence that was suffocating her.

“I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon!” Lilli watched them embrace quickly and focused on the feeling of Cyrus squeezing her hand. It was the only thing keeping her from flying away. “Lilliwen is such a pretty name. It is an honor to meet you.” The whimper, she couldn’t stop.

“Lilli.”

“Sorry?” The Princess cleared her throat.

“You can just call me Lilli.”

“Why don’t you and Lilli go have some tea while Rhysand and I catch up on some business?” Rory looked delighted by the idea but Lilli was sure she looked terrified. The two females had always enjoyed sharing a cup of tea together in the mornings after spending the night dancing and laughing and whispering secrets and fears into the hours of the night. She didn’t know if she would be able to stomach sitting across the table from the blank stare her friend held for her now.

“Follow me, Lilli.” She had to admit it felt good to hear her friend say her name again. To feel the warmth of her hand in the crook of her elbow and the comforting twinkle of her giggle as they made their way through the Luca family home. Lilli could have led them to the sitting room with a blindfold she had been there so many times before but she was content to let Rory take the lead and nodding along politely as she pointed out features of the home. “Oh and this is Helia! The true queen of the house.” The black cat charged at the Princess of Starlight and launched into her arms without a moment of warning. 

“Hi sweet girl,” Lilli cooed as Helia meowed at her frantically. “Celeste is okay, I promise. I’ll bring her back to see you very soon.” Helia accepted the kiss to the top of her head with one last meow, before jumping over into Rory’s arms.

“Celeste?”

“Oh. My cat. Helia must have smelled her on me. I presumed she was looking to meet a friend.” The lie was like acid on her tongue. 

“I’m sure she’d love that. Here, take a seat.” Lilli sat on the left, the chair with a permanent stain of tomato sauce marking it as her usual seat, and thanked Rory for the tea. “Apologies if this is an intrusion of your privacy but that ring is absolutely lovely.” The one thing she had been looking forward to sharing with her friend the most. Azriel.

“Thank you. I’ve been recently married.” Rory reached over where Helia was sitting on her lap to take Lilli’s hand in her own for a closer look.

“And what are these blue stones embedded in the band?” 

“Siphons. My husband is Illyrian.” 

“That’s certainly romantic of him,” Rory blushed. It was your idea! Lilli wanted to scream. You went with him to pick out the ring before I even knew he loved me. You told him that we were it for each other and no one else in the entire universe could ever compare. You told him that the Siphons would be an honorable way for me to carry a piece of him with me wherever I went. You knew he was my mate even before I did. You knew. You knew. You knew. You must know again.

“With the right prodding he can be.” They sipped at their tea in silence and picked at a plate of cookies that a member of the household had prepared for them, Lilli checking the door every few minutes to see if Rhys or Cyrus was coming to give an update.

“Lilli, you are the only female I’ve seen since I’ve been back…I’d like to ask for your advice on something. I can’t go to my brothers and since you seem to be in a happy relationship and don’t know me well enough to be anything other than neutral,” she tried not to collapse into despair at the words, “I’d like your opinion on a male.” Lilli blinked.

“A male?” Rory had been dating Jax, a general in the Dawn Court armies, before her time Under the Mountain. Had been quite set he was the right male to settle down with though Lilli had raged he was safe and boring and would never keep her brain satisfied. 

“Yes. What do you know of Eris Vanserra?” Even Helia’s tail paused its swishing at the name.

“Eris? As in the heir to Autumn Eris?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Did he hurt you?” Rory noticed the tremor beginning to make its way around the room at Lilli’s anger but the Princess was too far gone to notice on her own.

“No, he…Lilli, I think you’re the one making the room shake.” She released her grip on the table and squared her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry. I can normally control myself better.” Lilli cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea just as Cyrus and Rhysand chose to join them again.

“There was a little bit of a commotion. Is everything alright?” Rhys looked directly at her as he said it, Lilli sticking her tongue out in response. 

“We were just conversing. Harmless gossip is all.”

“That’s all you ever seem to do,” Rhys replied. She took in a big breath of air to gather the requisite force behind her response.

“Lilli, I know that look on your face,” Cyrus said with a warning behind his tone. 

“Fine.” Her arms crossed over her chest and she hunched over in her chair with a defeated pout. 

“Why would you upset our guest like that, Cy? It’s just some sibling banter.” That breathed a little bit of life back into her. The defense from her friend. It felt right. 

“Please do not encourage her, Aurora. I beg of you.” And as she always had, and maybe always will, Rory blushed under the violet gaze of the High Lord of the Night Court. “I think, Lilliwen, I am going to stay in Dawn for a couple of days to sort out the last of my business with Cyrus.” 

“Great. There is plenty of room for both of us.” 

“It would be nice to have another female around the house.” Rory beamed at Lilli in anticipation. Good. Let me keep pulling on these threads of her. She’ll come back to me. She’ll learn to love me again.

“Rhysand and I were thinking it might be best to limit distractions.” Cyrus had weighed his words and his tone cautiously. He knew the love between his sister and the Princess was as deep as his own. That a chosen love so strong might even be deeper. Lilli, the single most loving and tactile and affectionate person in all of Prythian, being asked to leave her friend behind was not something he was asking of her lightly.

“But I just got here.” I just got her back. 

“I know.” Rhys took a soft step forward and bent his knees so their eyes were level. “Give me a couple of days to right this and then everything will go back to normal. I know I am asking you to leave your heart behind once again and I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think it was going to be worth it in the end.” Lilli swallowed around the lump in her throat and looked to her friend. She looked inexplicably sad. As if she was filled with an emotion she didn’t know the origin of. Lilli knew. She knew because it was what tethered them together.

“Okay. But only because it’s what is best for her. Not because you told me to.”

“I wouldn’t even dare to dream of that being the case.” He squeezed Lilli’s hand once before helping her to rise from the table.

“Try not to let my brother annoy you too much. I’d like to come back and visit with Celeste, if that sounds alright with you.” Helia purred with anticipation at the mention of her sister. 

“I’d like that very much.” Rory stood and the two girls stood awkwardly yet expectantly. Normally, Lilli would have crushed her to her chest in a hug a million times over by now. She settled for a polite squeeze of her arm and the warmest smile she could muster.

“Cyrus, I’m trusting you to keep everyone in line,” she demanded as he walked her back out towards the foyer, Rhys sitting with Rory to begin his diagnostics to undo the tangled web he had weaved inside her head.

“I’ll do my best.” They paused in the entryway. “It was good to hear your voice the other day. Even better to see you with my own eyes.” Lilli placed her hand on his cheek and he covered it with his own instantly. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice the way he melted into her touch. Just the way he always had.

“You know I love you, Cy,” she whispered, “and that I always will.” Cyrus had begged her father to let him marry her. To save her from a lifetime of unhappiness in the Spring Court. But it had been for nothing. And Lilli had returned from that Court orphaned and without her older sister. The two of them had never been able to find the place they had been again.

“It is of great comfort to me that of all the males in the world that could have wooed you away from me, it’s the Shadowsinger. I don’t know anyone who could beat him out for a Princess’ hand.” Lilli giggled, love blooming in her chest at the mention of her husband. Her mate.

“He loves me. Cherishes me.”

“And I know he will always keep you safe.” They shared a final, loaded gaze. One that held nothing but pure love. Endless memories of the pure, raw love that had existed between them. There would always be a lifetime of memories that no one else could ever understand. “You should go. Your husband might be a polite man but I know he wouldn’t appreciate being kept waiting for the arrival of his wife.” 

“Send for me if you need me. Don’t give it a second thought.” 

“Let me know when you’ve arrived safely,” he said as he ushered her towards the door. 

“I will. Love you, Cy! Tell Rhys and Rory and Helia and Dami and-”

“I’ll make an announcement to the whole house that you love them I promise.” Satisfied, she winnowed off into the night.

----

She landed at the bottom of a winding, gravel walkway. It was lined with immaculately trimmed enchanted hedges that prevented anyone from trampling the pale pink rose bushes that were nestled behind them. Mainly that meant Cassian. He was the one who had inspired Lilli to enchant the hedges in the first place after one particularly disastrous drunken night. And at the top of the small hill sat a house made of stone with peaked roofs and plenty of windows. It was partially obscured from view by a stone wall, one of the many layers of protection Azriel had ensured were featured but one of the only ones Lilli actually knew about. It wasn’t one of the homes or palaces she had inherited upon the death of her parents. It wasn’t a seat of power for the royal family of the Night Court. It was a property that had been green and luscious since she was a little girl. The house abandoned but the framing always making her eyes widen. Her and Rory had spent hours running around the overgrown grass and picked wild flowers and pretend it was their castle they ruled the entire realm from. 

And when she had learned the fate of her brother and her best friend at the hands of Amarantha, she had fled to this very spot to try and feel closer to her. To find a moment of solace. Except it hadn’t looked the same. Someone had begun to transform the land into something more liveable while still maintaining the sense of freedom and wildness that Lilli had always felt when she’d been there. 

That someone had been Azriel. Azriel, who had taken the torment he felt over her departure for the Spring Court and channeled it into this. Into restoring the plot land and the house that had meant so much to her in the hopes the Mother would one day allow her to come home to him. And worked every day to make sure he was still deserving of such a blessing.

He was waiting for her in the doorway of their house, one shoulder leaned against the door frame and Celeste curled against his chest. The sight made her smile in spite of the pain that had taken root deep within her bones. The look in his eyes showed that he knew she was in pain. That she was barely able to stand on her own two feet and she walked towards him.

“Hi,” she whispered as she reached for her cat and kissed between her ears. Celeste nuzzled her nose to Lilli’s throat in a gesture of comfort.

“Hi,” he whispered back. He didn’t need to ask how it went because he had felt the wave of emotions crest and crash in his own chest. He didn’t make any move towards her, waiting for her to clue him in whether the journey up the walkway had made her sad, angry or a combination of them both.

“Rhys told me this morning he’d like to spend more time around the two of us. Together. Learn the new dynamic.” He nodded but his eyes were watching her trembling fingers that she was trying to hide in Celeste’s white fur. “I think it could be good if we start without any of the others. Cassian can be so brash with his jokes about us and Amren would just be so delighted to watch it descend into chaos and-”

“Lilli-”

“-Mor is obviously so sweet and supportive so maybe she should come as a known ally but if she comes and we don’t invite Cassian, he’s going to be so upset and we both know I’m helpless when seeing Cassian upset and-”

“Starlight.” Her lips clamped shut at the name. The one he had coined for her so many moons ago. The first night, when she was still just a girl, that she had considered being his and him being hers. The first night she had let herself dream of him in all the ways she had wanted him. The name was tender and intimate and vulnerable and he never used it in the presence of anyone else because he knew what it meant, what it symbolized. The sway it held over her heart. “Tell me about Dawn.” Lilli swallowed and didn’t hold back the tears that were filling her eyes as they rolled down her cheeks, Azriel stepping forward to cradle her face with a furrowed brow.

“She didn’t remember me. She looked at me and there was…there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It made me feel so empty.” His lips pressed to her forehead before she dropped it into his chest with despair and her body shook with sobs. As he always did, he held her tightly against him and rocked her gently but silently. Lilli always felt things fully and completely and he never tried to talk her out of doing so. He was her rock as she swayed and bowed to the beats of her overflowing heart. “What if she can’t learn to love me again?” she whimpered into the cloth of his shirt.

“What do you mean again?” he asked, holding her face so he could look her in the eyes. “My love, I promise Rory has never stopped loving you. She doesn’t have to learn how to because her love for you has never been in her mind but in her heart and her soul. That is something no one can ever erase, no matter how powerful they are.” 

“I love you. You know that, right?” she sniffled as his thumbs brushed under her eyes. 

“I do. You always make sure I can feel your love. I love you, too, my Starlight.” With a shaky breath, she rested her cheek back to where his heart lay and closed her eyes, allowing him to lead her in a gentle sway as she evened out her breath and cleared the tears from her eyes. 

“Is that lemon I smell on you? And butter?” 

“Yes. I thought you might be hungry when you arrived so I was in the middle of making you dinner.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I am starving,” she hummed without making any movement to untangle herself from his hold. “Afterwards, might we cuddle in the bath for an obscenely long time?”

“I think I can make myself available for that.” Lilli pressed onto the tips of toes and craned her neck for a kiss, Az still needing to bend down to reach her before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her to a more comfortable height. They only broke apart when a furry paw tapped her cheek.

“Celeste also wants a kiss from you.” He rolled his eyes.

“Celeste is more akin to a minx than a cat.”

“Why? Because she also enjoys snuggling on all your gorgeous muscles?” 

“Lately, she has a penchant for watching me train. Her gaze is very attentive.” Lilli giggled and he kissed her cheeks with his own smile. One he hadn’t let creep across his face for many years before he had offered to her at Starfall a few decades ago. The one that had no reservations and tore down all the walls in his soul and bared everything to the female he loved beyond the meaning of the word. 

“She’s just like her mother. I’m so proud. Now give her a kiss so we can eat.” Celeste closed her eyes as she got her wish and purred with absolute delight. “You think having a cat version of me is bad just imagine-” She stopped herself before she could finish her sentence. 

“Imagine what?” Az let her land back on her feet and he felt the darkness tug in his chest where their half-formed bond also resided. “Finish what you were going to say.” Even though he had known exactly where her mind had led her. 

“Why tease about a future we are not meant to have?”

“Helion is back. I think we should talk to him about the curse.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word on most occasions. The one thing he could not protect his mate from. The thing that brought her such pain and agony that he could never take away from her. 

“I have all I need right here.” Azriel saw the look in her eyes when they passed a little faeling in Velaris. He knew the yearning in her chest. The dreams at her core. “I have you as my mate. And our bond…even in its current status has me bursting with love and joy and I am happy. I am incandescently happy, Azriel, and I don’t want anything to ever threaten that.” For that is exactly the risk that would come with accepting their bond. With a ceremony before a priestess. With a frenzy and the possibility of children. None of it would matter because if she accepted her bond with Azriel then she was cursed to lose him. No dream or desire to be anything other than exactly what she was now could be allowed to threaten that. 

“I just want you happy and safe. That is all I will ever want.” He would follow her lead on this. However she wished to handle it, even if that meant ignoring it, he would oblige. “Now,” he cleared his throat to try and shake the dark cloud that had fallen over them, “I believe my mate used the word starving.” 

“Oh, yes! She very much did.” Lilli began to move towards the house but jumped as his hand made contact with the plush skin of her bottom, Azriel grinning wickedly as she blushed. “I said bath time was after dinner time, Azzie. Don’t try to make me skip the meal you made for me otherwise I would have to cook something for myself.” And every time she made the mistake of entering a kitchen, a building was almost lost. 

“It would be a dereliction of my responsibility to protect you if I allowed that to happen.” And he wasn’t joking in the slightest. 

They spent the next few days in their routine of domesticity. They would train with Cassian in the morning, Azriel would break off for Spymaster duties while Lilli attended to Court business with Amren in Rhys’ absence and they would meet again at their home for dinner which normally included some combination of their family. They talked about everything other than Rhys and Aurora. Anything other than what was going on in the Dawn Court. Anything other than the stories they had begun to hear from other Fae who had been trapped Under the Mountain. Lilli had decreed long ago that her home with Azriel was a place for their family to come together and be happy, to set aside any ill feelings and be embraced by warmth and love. Those conversations could be had at the House of Wind or the Moonstone Palace but never in her sanctuary. 

“That looks like it is going to be delicious,” Lilli hummed one morning. She was sat on the kitchen counter in a silk nightgown that fell to the middle of her shin with a fabric that flowed as she kicked her feet into the air.

“It will be once someone stops distracting me.” It was difficult for Azriel to assemble the custard-soaked bread for baking when one of his hands was being held hostage. He had rested it on his wife’s thigh when he had kissed her a few minutes ago and it had been trapped there between both of hers ever since.

“So now I’m not allowed to want to be near my husband? To want to hold his hand at all times?”

“Not when your stomach was growling and interrupting our morning in bed and he is trying to remedy-”

“You take one morning off from wrestling with Cassian and get all grumpy. He’ll love to hear that when I tell him.” Deciding just his hand wasn’t enough, she wrapped her arms around his bicep and rested her cheek against the muscle. “How much longer until it’s ready?” Azriel chuckled, washing his one hand before maneuvering to stand between her legs.

“How is it,” he started as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, “that the Mother chose me to bless with such a beautifully, affectionately, impatient little mate?” 

“She blessed you to be the luckiest male in the entire world.” She nuzzled her nose against his until he couldn’t contain the smile across his face. 

“That I am.” Their kiss was languid and slow. His hands behind her back on the counter so his arms could squeeze against her sides and keep her steady. Lilli locked her ankles around him and lazily ran her hands over his bare chest as he slipped his tongue to tangle with hers.

It was the way his shadows began to whip frantically that she knew something was wrong. And then it was the way Azriel tensed, tapping the Siphon on top of his hand to scale his Illyrian armor over his body. 

“What do they sense?” she asked as he helped her down to her feet. 

“Intruder. Someone is trying to break through the wards you placed around the house.” He moved towards the door, darkness clouding his eyes and an energy thrumming through his veins that Lilli had only seen a handful of times. Only on the occasions where she had been threatened. Nothing would satisfy him except for the blood of those that threatened his mate. “Stay here and call Cassian-”

“Celeste! Stop!” The white cat burst through the open door and sprinted down the walkway. Lilli ran after her without a second thought, determined to protect one of the beings she loved most from whatever lay at the bottom of that hill. 

“Lilli!” Her name was a roar as Azriel went after her, shadows wrapping around her wrists to urge her to stop. To retreat into the house where they would know she was safe. 

“Lilli? Lilli, it’s me! It’s me!” That voice got her to freeze in an instant. That voice got her to almost drop to her knees. A voice of comfort and love and home. A voice of history and belonging and perpetuity. A voice of remembrance. Rory. 

“Rory? Oh it’s you! It’s really you.” She was sobbing as she ran the rest of the pathway and saw her friend waiting at the entryway through the stone wall. With a wave of her hand, the wards were down and they were barrelling towards each other. “Az almost killed you! What were you thinking?” She crashed into her friend and they fell to the ground in a heap, their arms holding each other as tight as they could possibly stand no other care in the world to be had.

“I was thinking that I need to see you more than anything else. I was not thinking about the normally territorial and protective male being fueled by a mating bond to be even more territorial and protective and how stupid it would be to try and break into his house!” 

“I know you always say you leave the over thinking to me but maybe you need some every once in a while.” The male in question was watching the scene from the sky with a smile, attempting to cool the rage in his blood now that he knew there was no threat. “Please tell me that you being here means my idiot brother gave you your memories back.” Lilli squeezed her eyes shut and kept her face buried in Rory’s shoulder as she waited for her answer.

“How do you think I knew to come looking for you here?” The place that had always been just for the two of them. Where all their hopes and dreams had been planted. Where all their secrets had been shared. Where a vision of the future had been painted right before their eyes.

“I’m sorry I brought a boy here. To our special place. He’ll leave if I ask him to.” Rory laughed and squeezed her tighter for just a second before kissing her forehead and pulling away. 

“He can stay. But only if you tell me if the wingspan correlation rumors are true,” she whispered with a wiggle of her brows.

“Aurora Luca, it is so fucking true. It is like an assault on my throat each and every day trying to get him deeper-” She paused when the male in question cleared his throat in interruption. “Az! Look who’s here!” Lilli made sure Rory’s hand was firmly locked into place around hers and they stood, Rory wrapping him in a one armed hug as best she could. 

“It’s good to see you. Good to have you back.” Azriel kissed her temple and smiled at his wife. Her happiness was practically beaming out of his own chest with how strong it was. How all consuming the sense of joy that radiated through her was.

“I missed you, Az. I see you took good care of our girl while I was away.” He and Lilli locked eyes, a thousand versions of love and commitment passing between them without a single word. They were both sheepish and silent as they thought of the carnal ways in which he’d learn to take care of her, take care of each other, but also the softer ways. The morning routine of laughter and kisses and a shared breakfast before they started their day. The evening routine of bathing together and Az listening to her detail her entire day and Celeste curling up between them. And all the moments in between. They had found a rhythm despite the agony over losing Rhysand and Rory. They had found solace in each other in the darkest of times. Everything about coming together had been so simple. “Okay I see I have a lot of catching up to do with you two. I don’t remember such loaded, mutual staring going on before.”

“He loves me. Isn’t it sweet?” Lilli teased as she finally turned her lovestruck gaze back to her friend. 

“Reductive,” Azriel teased back with a quick flick of her nose, “I’m going to go stretch my wings a little bit. Give you two some time alone and work the urge to maim out of my system.” His eyes were still a shade too dark and his Siphons were still glowing with unreleased power. 

“I’m sure Rory will still be here when you get back. You’ll at least spend the night, won’t you?” 

“Of course. As long as I’m not intruding on any plans.” Rory felt a gentle knock on the shield around her mind and parted it just enough for her friend to slip through. We can delay the next round of training my gag reflex. No need to worry. “You’re incorrigible,” Rory laughed as she pushed Lilli out. 

“My two favorite people will be under the roof of the home I love. I literally might burst.” Az stepped forward, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close though she kept her grip on her friend’s hand. He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Make sure you eat some breakfast, okay? I love you. Won’t be gone too long.”

“I love you, too. Be safe!” After one last kiss, he shot into the sky and Lilli watched until he disappeared completely from her vision.

“So…you and Az?”

“Yeah. Me and Az.”

----

“And then I started crying and pushing him away because of all the people in the world to be my mate, to be the person I’m destined to ruin, of course it’s Azriel. And I was like no it can’t be you, I wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you and he was like a moment with you is worth a thousand lifetimes and I just absolutely gave in. How could I even speak after that?” Lilli popped another piece of toast into her mouth and offered Helia a lick of syrup where she sat in her lap.

“He’s the only one who’s ever been able to render you speechless,” Rory mused. “This is really fucking good by the way. Does he always cook for you like this?”

“He has been. Now that Rhys is back and the borders are open he’ll probably be spending less time here. Catching up on all the spy stuff and whatnot.” A sense of melancholia settled over them. Rory knew the way Lilli latched onto the people she loved. How she derived every bit of strength needed to get through her day by being with loved ones. Rory could imagine how deeply she had leaned on Azriel during these past decades when she had lost two sources of her liveliness. How the connection between their souls and the love they shared was a drug she was already addicted to.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to spend more time in Dawn or I’ll be spending more time here. The guest bedroom at the end of the hall did look particularly warm and cozy.” 

“Please say that to Azriel when he gets back. I literally picked out those blankets because I knew you’d like them and he argued with me about the type of stone for the fireplace but I knew you’d get it. The room is hardly for a guest. It’s for you. I’ll make sure you’re keyed to the wards before I go to sleep tonight.” Lilli squeezed her friend’s knee with a smile that quickly faded as she realized tears were forming in Rory’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Cauldron, is it the stone of the fireplace? Az was right, grey looks dull in there. Let me make some calls-”

“It’s not the stone. The stone is lovely. The grey is perfect.” She swallowed thickly and Lilli stroked her thumb over her pant leg in comfort. “I’m just so happy for you. And I’m so sad I missed out on watching you fall in love and watching you get married and build this home and this life you always dreamed of. It breaks my heart I wasn’t there every step of the way with you.” It broke her heart that life had gone on while she was Under the Mountain. It broke her heart that hadn’t thought once about Lilli or her brothers or anyone else she loved while she was under there. That she had to forget them in order to survive. 

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me about that. You were there for all the moments that mattered. The day I learned his name. The day I learned what it meant to love him as more than a friend. Fuck, Rory, you are the one who went with him to buy the ring I’m wearing before I even admitted to him how I felt. You knew he was my destiny before I did because you know me better than I know myself.” Helia jumped to join Celeste on Rory’s lap, Lilli squishing herself onto the chair so she could hold her friend close. “You’re going to be there for all the ones that have still yet to happen, just as I am for you. I’m certain of it.” They simply held each other until their breathing evened, their cats curling around them in a protective warmth as well. 

“You’re my sister. More than a friend or a best friend. We’re sisters.” Rory turned over her palm to show the crescent moon on the inside of her wrist. Lilli smiled and did the same to show the matching tattoo of a rising sun.

“The first bargain we ever made. To always be friends. Still going strong even though our mother’s wanted to kill us.” They laughed and once the quiet fell over them again, Lilli couldn’t help the question that was nipping at the back of her mind. “There is one thing you said when I was in Dawn a few days ago. I haven’t been able to shake it.”

“I’m sorry if it was something insensitive or that I should have known not to say. I’ve made that mistake more than a few times since I’ve been back.” 

“No you…you made a comment about how I was the first female you’d seen and how I am in a healthy relationship and you wanted my advice.” Rory rolled her eyes.

“If you’re asking if I went to see Jax, the answer is no. I haven’t.” 

“You asked me about Eris Vanserra.” Rory froze where she had been reaching for another piece of toast before remembering the perceptive gaze she was under and adjusting back to normalcy. “I know he was there with you and Rhys. Did something happen? Did he hurt you?”

“No.” It was slow. Almost calculated. “We spent a few moments together. He did not harm me in any of them.” Lilli wanted to push. Scrape at the meaningless words that held back a rush of feelings. She could sense them percolating right at the surface.

“Okay. Is that all?” Because her first conversation back with her friend after almost five decades had been her asking about Eris Vanserra. Something was different. Something had changed. Even in the fog of memories, the fireling had come to her forefront.

“I still haven’t had a lot of time to process everything, Lil. If something comes up in my memories from there, you’ll be the first to know.” One day she might even open her mind to her friend and let her see for herself what life Under the Mountain had been like. But that day was not today.

Lilli decided not to press any further. There was enough change in her friend’s life for one day and she was certain that every day for the near future would bring about further adjustments. Amarantha may have been defeated but the King of Hybern was still looming on the horizon. The Courts were still restless after so long without their leaders. Now was the time to band together with those important to you. To hold them close and cherish every second they had. Lilli knew that everyone she loved, and herself included, had battle barreling towards them. She was content to just live in this moment as long as possible. No matter what questions remained unanswered. 

“You being here makes me feel whole again,” Lilli said after she moved back to her own chair and they sipped their tea in a few moments of silence. “I love you and can’t wait for all the new memories we are going to make together. All the adventures we still have ahead of us.” She held out her tattooed hand and Rory clasped it with her own.

“Cauldron, we have so much havoc wreaking to catch up on, don’t we? Let’s start tomorrow. I think a blanket fort by the fire is what we have in store for tonight.” Rory laughed but Lilli didn’t, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I love you, too, Lil.” She softened instantly and pulled her best friend in for a hug. For all the change, there would always be things that remained the same. 

Lilliwen, Princess of Starlight, loved her family and loved her friends fiercely and wouldn’t change anything about any of them for the world. She would protect them just as fiercely. And she would keep their secrets, and keep her own, until the world was ash around her.

And if Eris Vanserra had taken advantage of her best friend, her sister, in her most vulnerable state, she would find out. And his father would be the least of his problems. 

That was a promise.

[sage-nebula]

PKMN - Good Times Don't Make for Effective Threats

Notes: Happy pride month, have some toxic yaoi. This takes place in the same timeline as my ongoing fic Grounding Techniques, but it happens before that fic starts, so it can be read as a stand-alone. Takes place after episode 89. Contains content warnings for mild physical torture (the torture is real but it's nothing graphic), mild starvation, and mild psychological torture. Also, Spinel might be into pain play.

Word Count: 1,172

- - -

There were many ways to break a human mind, but the most efficient method was to break the body first.

It wasn’t necessary for all human minds, of course. Some would bend under visual hypnosis, and would snap just as easily under direct cognitive manipulation. Yet the more willful someone was, the harder it became to break them while focusing on the mind alone. The stronger they were, the stronger their resistance was. Breaking them physically diverted their attention, gave them less energy to put toward resistance when so much of it was focused on keeping their body together.

Spinel’s first three test subjects had not been as willful as his current one, a fact that was frustrating and exciting in equal measure. Each of them had only needed sessions in the conditioning chair—Subject 2 needed more than Subjects 1 or 3, but the conditioning chair had been enough for them in the end all the same.

Subject 4, on the other hand . . . it had been five weeks and three days, and Subject 4 still showed no signs of relenting. Initially, Spinel had seen fit to treat him as he had the other test subjects, once he’d recovered from his injuries. He had been given a locked room with a bed, end table, books, and a chair; he was allowed to rest comfortably between sessions, though he spent most of his time trying to escape the room instead. (He had succeeded twice, which was Spinel’s fault; Spinel saw to it that two gallade were posted outside his room after that, to prevent any other mishaps.)

Those privileges were revoked four days ago. Subject 4 had been relocated to a holding cell brightly lit by fluorescent lights around the clock. There was no bed, nor were there chairs. Instead, two metal cuffs had been installed in the back wall, just high enough so that—secured by his wrists as he was—Subject 4 could not sit down, but also could not stand up straight without dislocating both of his shoulders first. He was given water to drink each day, but had been without food for thirty-two hours. His discomfort on the security feed had been palpable.

Spinel scanned his badge against the keypad securing the holding cells, and after a soft click the door slid open to allow him entrance. In this wing, all other holding cells were empty; Spinel thought it best to keep Subject 4 away from the so-called Five Heroes, lest he pull off another miraculous escape attempt with them in tow. As such, the holding space was silent, save for Subject 4’s labored breathing as he struggled in vain to find a comfortable position against the wall.

Spinel stood quietly on the other side of the glass for a long moment, drinking in the sight before him, before he said, “No one is coming for you, you know.”

It wasn’t possible for Subject 4’s—for Friede’s—posture to tense any more than it already was, the strain on his shoulder and back muscles being what it was. But Spinel still saw Friede’s jaw lock at the sound of his voice, and when he raised his head, his eyes were dark.

“What?” Friede asked, voice hoarse from the strain.

“No one is coming for you,” Spinel repeated. He let his words sink in for a second before he continued. “Your little group disbanded. They believe you’re dead. No one is looking for you, and no one is coming to your rescue.”

Spinel smiled as Friede looked away. Physical torture was a proven effective method at breaking the human spirit, but psychological torment helped just as much. Studies had proven that when people lost hope, they were far more likely to fall victim to whatever or whoever could possibly return it to them. It was how cults were successful. Take someone who had nothing and offer them something to believe in, and you could make them do just about—

“Good.”

“What?”

“I said, good.” Friede looked back at Spinel, an asinine grin on his lips despite how he tried and failed once again to sit, and then stood as much as he could before a cringe of pain forced him back down. “The last thing I want is for the kids to get mixed up in this. Keeping them away is the right thing to do. I can take care of myself.”

Spinel snorted. “Yes, you’re doing a very good job of that.”

Despite the strain from the cuffs, Friede flipped Spinel off with both hands.

“But you do realize I could bring the children here at any time?” Spinel continued. “I know where they are. Having my Explorers retrieve them would be no problem at all.”

Friede snorted. “Sure. But you won’t.”

“Why not?”

The grin that parted Friede’s lips was almost feral, his eyes burning like molten gold under his fringe. “Because if you do, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.”

It was an empty threat. Even if Friede was given the opportunity to harm Spinel, he was in no condition to do so, and with his intelligence there was no doubt he knew at least that much.

Yet though the threat was empty, the thought of Friede’s teeth against his neck, applying just enough pressure to bruise but not break through . . . Friede’s ragged breaths hot as his lips moved up, nibbling around Spinel’s earlobe, his strong hands with their soft callouses stroking down Spinel’s chest to his hips, to under his waistband—

Heat uncoiled in Spinel’s stomach like an agitated sandaconda and flashed through his body. The glass was clean enough to not offer much of a reflection, but the little bit he could see revealed just how red his cheeks now were. On the other side, Friede’s grin was gone, replaced with a suspicious frown.

Spinel cleared his throat.

“Not even forty-eight hours without food and you’re already prepared to resort to cannibalism,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his lab coat to retrieve an apple. “You’ve surprised me yet again, Professor.”

“Can we really call it cannibalism if I don’t swallow and stop when you’re dead?” Friede replied. Spinel squeezed the apple on the words don’t swallow, but he didn’t miss how Friede’s eyes locked onto it the second Spinel brought it into view.

“Hmm, I suppose not.” Spinel tossed the apple lightly into the air before he caught it again. Friede’s eyes followed the movement. Spinel smiled. “Do you like apples?”

A muscle twitched in Friede’s jaw, but he didn’t reply.

“Well, if you do, then you’re welcome to have this one . . .” Spinel buffed the apple against his shoulder, “. . . after your session today, if you’re good. I’ll see you later.”

Friede said nothing, but the way his fingers curled into fists in their shackles said enough. Spinel dropped the apple back into his pocket as he walked away. Once he exited into the hall, he leaned back against the closed door, and allowed the cold steel to cool his burning skin.

[questalkcomics]

Our soldiers | A Red Room report | The Winter Soldier X Black Widow

Note : this story takes place in my winterwidow fiction.

There's element I wish to expend latter on.

Summary : a Red Room scientist is recording his report about one of Soviet Union's greatest weapons

Trigger warning : mention of brainwashing, drugs and physical abuse

Pairing : Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff

• The sound of the scientist's confident footsteps echoed throughout the military complex, from the staff offices to the various underground cells.

The man was in his fifties, balding, an athletic figure offset the scars covering his face and neck, piercing blue eyes hidden behind round, thin glasses. The badge attached to the right side of his blouse presented his face, his position as Doctor and section leader and his name: Nikita Knyazev.

the man was renowned and respected for his calm, his rigor and his strength of conviction, but also feared for his training and interrogation methods as well as some myths and stories told about his time in the war and the Red Room.

Nikita was a man of principle. His own. He never wasted his time in discussions unworthy of his interest, was not close to any of his colleagues, in fact, none of them really dared to approach him. His legend was built on the words and accomplishments of the agents he had dealt with.

The complex was located east of the town of Cherepovets. By 1957, the Military University of Radioelectronics had been established there.

The Red Room had chosen a discreet architecture for its installation, far from official buildings, preferring to be unofficial, the "B-45 site"

• He sat down in front of his computer before taking a tape recorder out of his table drawer. He placed it in front of him, took off his glasses to rub his eyes and then placed a pack of cigarettes on his right. He lit one before starting his recording.

"So. It is February 21, 1978, Doctor Nikita Knyazev and I present to you my report on agents Winter Soldier and Black Widow after their last mission. This took place on January 13, the preparation took place over three weeks. As agreed, the two agents were released from their stasis, which began on October 28, 1977 after another mission order." He paused and wrote: *see report 45-19* on a sheet of paper that he had just taken out.

"As always, it took two full days for the agents to fully regain consciousness from waking up. The Winter Soldier was the first to be injected with the "separation" compound, developed to allow better post-awakening recovery. The Soldier's constants were subsequently monitored before sending a stimulating visual sequence. This lasted approximately 10 minutes, no sign of resistance or rejection was noted."

He paused again. His cigarette now finished, he took the time to think about his next sentence.

"Agent Widow, on the other hand... My team noticed a difference in waking behavior between her and the Winter Soldier. She seemed... more aware. The first visual stimuli report a global understanding of its space, without notable injection or usual medical procedure. She was subjected to the same treatment as the Winter Soldier with particular attention paid to the visual sequences. It's still difficult to explain why and how, but she resisted. She struggled without noticeable damage, her body still too weak from sleep and was quickly brought under control. Two days passed before the usual protocol was put in place: both agents were subjected to a wave of brain shock, the procedure now taking between 5 and 7 minutes. 30 minutes after this, they were each taken to a different room to carry out post-treatment tests. I must say that... the two teams in charge of our agents, men for the Soldier and women for Widow, were not careful...

...verbal and physical humiliation, different methods were applied to make sure that the Winter Soldier and Black Widow were under control. No resistance noted. Both were equipped and briefed on their objective."

A new pause was heard on the tape recorder as the Doctor noted once again: *see applied strategic report M-18* He continued:

"You should know that the mission was an absolute success for our unit. Agents Winter Soldier and Black Widow are two prides of the Red Room and I think, comrades, that this mission is proof of that. Doctor Nikita Knyazev, finished."

• As soon as the recording was cut, the Doctor took a disk from his shirt and inserted it into his computer, loading a video.

The recording began with what appeared to be a surveillance camera. There we saw a room, undoubtedly for scientific purposes, in which there was a device composed of a chair surrounded by a metal support on which there were places to place the arms and the upper body.

The room was empty before three guards entered, accompanied by a woman who was only able to stand thanks to the support of two of the guards. She was placed on the chair, tied up, while the guards dispersed into the room to prepare for a procedure, one of the two, close to the woman, exclaimed: “What did you say?”

He spoke to the woman, her face marked with disorientation and fatigue. The other two approached as the recording captured the sound coming from the woman's voice, it being barely audible:

"...I...James..." The recording cut out as one of the guard ran, shouting Doctor Nikita's name. The latter, still facing his computer, got up and approached one of the windows to the right of his desk. His expression was both questioning and worried. Nobody ever saw him like that. Even he, was suprised by this turn of event.

His eyes focused on a part of the complex below he exclaimed: “Who are you, James?”

[copperbadge]

Amateur Translation Programs

So I had a lot of imaginative and informative responses to my post about looking for an amateur translation program -- something where I could load in a foreign language and it would insert a box where I could add a translation every-other-line. The idea was that this way I could practice translation with more advanced texts, and texts I chose, and thus move away from Duolingo, which at this point is good for drilling and daily practice but not for more advanced learning.

I didn't find precisely what was needed but I did get some inspiration for further explanation, and I also learned that adding the term "glossing" (thank you @thewalrus-said) into my searches helped a great deal in terms of weeding out programs that were either "Let this AI translate for you" or just endless promotional links for Babbel and Duolingo and such. I thought I'd collect up the suggestions and post them here; at the end I'm including my best swing at designing what I wanted, and why it doesn't work yet.

Suggestion one, from many people, was various ways to generate a page that is simply fixed Italian text with space underneath each line to add in a translation. This is pretty simple as a process and there are sites that will do it for you, such as this one that @ame-kage suggested. However, most of these don't allow for movement in the Italian text, and many produce a PDF which you would need to print out in order to write on unless you're willing to open it in Acrobat (and deal with Acrobat). A good solution for some but not what I'm looking for purely because I'm trying to make this super frictionless so that (knowing myself as I do) I will actually do it.

I did find this version interesting, suggested by @drivemetogeek: Have one word doc saved as your "template" doc and set the line spacing as 2.0 or higher. Select your text from source and paste it into the template doc as text-only. Ctrl a, ctrl c to select all and copy, then open a new document and "paste special" as picture. Right click and set the "wrap text" as behind text. Now you have a document where you can, basically, type over the existing text because it's the background of the page. This seems like the most frictionless version, because you could set up a bunch of them ahead of time. If you wanted to move between desktop and mobile, however, you'd need to ensure that the pasted image was fairly narrow so that you don't have to sideways-scroll.

Relatedly, people suggested generating a document that is simply the Italian text with empty space beneath it for typing in of the translation. This can be done either semi-automated, using a macro or a language like Python, or find-and-replace on, say, the stops at the ends of sentences. It basically outputs the same as above but with a more digitally accessible format, without any more effort than above. If you were to do this in Google Sheets you could also fix the column width so that it didn't do anything weird when you opened it on your phone. But it is still very friction-y, and does not allow for easy shifting of the Italian as needed. There's high probability of the translation breaking weirdly across the page. Still a top option in terms of simplicity and access.

@smokeandholograms suggested another variation illustrated here where essentially you're converting the text to a series of tables, with each paragraph a row, and an empty cell next to it for the translation. I might play around more with this one eventually, since I think I could possibly make it a three-column and put the Italian in one, the translation in the next, and the auto-translate to let me know where I might be slipping in the third. (Not that I trust auto-translate but comparing a hand translation to an auto translation can be useful in terms of working out when I've messed up the way a tense or mood is read. I tend to read indirect verbs as automatically imperative because I'm a weirdo.)

@wynjara linked to an add-in for Word specifically designed for translators, known as TransTools; this appears to employ a macro to do the same thing, though it does have a format where you can place the translation next to each sentence directly rather than in a separate cell. The full suite of tools is only $45 which is reasonable for my budget, but for what I need I think I could also just create the macro.

Using LaTeX as a tool specially designed for glossing was an option on offer, but I don't know enough about LaTeX to figure out the pros of this one, which is in itself the major con -- there's a learning curve that I think varies widely by person but for me is unfortunately a wall. It came out of a discussion on Reddit about trying to find something like what I want; also in that discussion is a link to a code generator that allows you to…do something…to the initial language, but it's not entirely clear to me (I'm sure it's clear to people who understand coding) what you would then do with it that would allow it to be output in the way I'm hoping for. Like, I could turn a paragraph of text into HTML, I understand that far, but any Italian I find is already on a website.

Moving more into apps that might work, Redditors on the LaTeX discussion suggested SIL Fieldworks, which is a professional language tech tool. Fieldworks isn't a program I'd previously encountered but much as with the ones I had, it looks like the learning curve is fairly steep and it is definitely overkill generally for what I need, though it might also harbor within it the thing I want. It is free, so I may download and play around with it.

@brightwanderer suggested using note-taking or "whiteboard" apps such as Freeform or Nebo; these are generally a kind of "infinite canvas" in which you can drop objects, text boxes, or handwriting. I don't know that Freeform would be measurably different to just using Word and a macro, since I'd still have to input/format all the text and then be stuck with the same "fixed text" setup -- and it's also iOS only -- but for some folks it might be more helpful. Nebo is a similar infinite-canvas with unfortunately the same issues, though on the plus it's available for Android, which is where most of my mobile property resides.

@bloodbright suggested that I was looking for a CAT tool, a professional translation tool mainly used by translators working in the field. This was a concept I'd encountered, but I hadn't found a good starting place. They suggested Smartcat and OmegaT. Smartcat bills itself as an AI translation platform and is HARD pushing the "don't translate it yourself, hire a translator or let AI do it" angle, so it's difficult to tell what it offers in terms of actual tools for translators, and it's also cagey about pricing, so I can't really evaluate it. OmegaT is free and gives off big "some weirdo homebrewed this in their basement" vibe (which I am here for) but I also recognized it from screengrabs that were the reason I veered away from professional-grade software: it looked too complex. Realistically, the major downside of OmegaT is that I don't think I can put it on my phone. One thing I did find interesting is that once you translate a portion of the text, the original language goes away, though I assume you can turn that off if needed. I do kind of like that because it means my distractable brain is looking at Less Stuff.

So where did I end up?

Well, it looked like I was going to have to try a homebrew myself. I had the idea of trying some of the initial suggestions but in reverse -- designing a document where every other line was a single-cell table fixed to the page. You could paste in the Italian, which would wrap around the cells, and then enter the English in the cells.

You can fix a table in place in Google Docs -- you click on the table, then under Table > Style select Wrap Text, Both Sides, and Fix On Page. Getting the whole page set up is a little labor intensive but once you did that, you could just save it as a template and make a duplicate of it each time. And this actually works….on desktop.

Unfortunately, if you open it in the mobile Docs app, the app can't handle the fixed tables and automatically moves them all to after the text that's been pasted in. I tried redesigning it so that it's a table within a table -- one for the Italian, then within that a series of them for the English -- but when you nest a table in Google Docs, it doesn't let you fix the second table in place. And you are also still dealing with the wrap issue, although you can resize the page and add a large right-hand margin as a kludge of a fix for that.

You can build this same kind of document in Word, so I tried building one in Word and then uploading it to Drive, but when you open the Word file in Docs (or in Microsoft Word for Android), it still strips the fixed positioning -- there's just some functionality missing from both apps that doesn't allow them to handle fixed-position tables.

So, the design is sound, just not the final execution. If I could program an app, I could probably remedy the issues with it -- it's simply a series of text boxes nested inside one another with different formatting. I would imagine that's relatively basic to set up, although given that neither Docs nor Word can handle fixed tables in mobile, perhaps I've stumbled on a much bigger problem that everyone is ignoring because nobody actually needs or wants fixed tables in mobile. :D

Experimentation is ongoing, anyway. I might simply have to resign myself to the fact that my translation study is going to have to be in front of a computer, which might be for the best anyway when I inevitably want to compare my translation to an auto-translate to see where I might have read something wrong.

[demialwrites]

I do have a Turks fic for you!! Happy day! Ideas for this come partly from interactions with @flowerwiththemachinegun. Reader is interrogated by Tseng. Includes omo

You get hauled into an interrogation room for being affiliated with an AVALANCHE cell. It’s Director Tseng who is going to interrogate you personally. That’s unusual so it’s enough to make you panic inside. But he leads you into the room without causing you much discomfort. He even removes your cuffs after you sit. There’s a metal loop welded into the table that implies others have been chained to it. But not you, for some reason. You must be considered a small fry.

There’s a glass canter filled with water and a glass next to it. It’s strangely welcoming in the otherwise dim, Shinra-black room with only two chairs and a table for furniture. There’s a mirror on the other side of the room, which you assume is two-way. Tseng takes a place on the other side of the table, in front of the mirror. He chooses to stand, looking impeccable and down his nose at you.

“You must be thirsty,” he says.

His tone is hospitable, even warm, but his sharp eyes watch you closely. Without asking if you want any, he pours some water in the glass. He picks up the glass and places it close enough for you to reach but not enough to invade your space, showing that he knows you’re already wary of him. You watch his gloved fingers release the glass before reaching for it. You are thirsty and down the whole glass. It calms you a bit.

He smirks at you but you’re not sure why. The water tastes normal and smells fine. There’s nothing strange in it from what you can tell. And you haven’t done anything wrong.

During the ensuing back-and-forth, it becomes clear that the AVALANCHE cell he's asking about is not the one you’re affiliated with. But Tseng either doesn’t believe you or is trying to be thorough. He won’t let you go.

A bang startles you as he slams his hand flat on the table. It’s a sharp departure from his previous demeanor and it’s supposed to scare you. It does. Your heart starts to race and you’re anxious. But your wires must be crossing somewhere because you’re also a little…turned on? You nearly reach up to touch your face to check how warm it is. He next slides his hand over to the canter and pours you more water. Then that hand slides the glass slowly towards you. The water barely rocks in the glass as it's pushed.

You don’t know why he’s doing this but drinking water seems harmless enough. You take a gulp to satisfy him. It does and he treats you to another smirk.

Tseng asks you more questions. Some, you know the answer to, some you don’t and just seem to lead you both in circles. You’re not sure if he’s trying to break you down to get you to admit something but you have nothing to admit to. Tseng remains calm while your volume rises and gets more and more pleading.

Until he slams his hand down again on the table, interrupting your current sentence. Your hands rise up protectively. Tseng takes a step back and puts his hands behind his back, allowing you to calm a little again. Then he pours more water into the glass. This is the third full of glass of water. You’re not at all thirsty but you drink it, anyway. It seems to please him for an unknown reason. You like seeing his smirk but you also want to get out of here.

You watch for another way to please him, in case that gets you out of here faster. But there's nothing. You try to make up details about the AVALANCHE cell you know nothing about. He gives you another smirk but this one is cruel. He grabs your jaw and roughly pushes you backwards in the chair.

“Don't lie to me,” he warns.

The chair starts to tilt back but he uses his foot to steady it. It seems he wants you to stay in it. He leaves his foot on the chair, between your thighs. Tseng leans closer, giving you a better look at the warm brown of his eyes. But there's no warmth behind them. Something else, but you don't know what. He's looking for something, which is frustrating because you still have nothing to give.

He tilts his head curiously and slides his foot forward. When it makes contact with you, you press your lips firmly together to avoid making any noise. He notices you holding back and smirks again. He next places his foot on your lower stomach and presses. Your muscles spasm but you manage to hold it in. When his foot retreats, it leaves a dusty, grey imprint on the fabric there.

You hadn't noticed how full your bladder was until now. The anxiety caused your body to fill it faster but also dulled the signals to your brain about its fullness. It throbs after being pressed on but not allowed to empty.

“Can I…can I go?” you ask, but something tells you he won't let you.

“No. We're not done here.”

You grit your teeth in frustration and discomfort. Your bladder still throbs. He pours you another glass of water. It's obvious how off that gesture is, now. This time, you refuse to drink it.

Tseng suddenly pulls you out of the chair with both hands in your shirt, up, so you're face-to-face. Your vision is filled with his falsely-warm eyes again. He shakes you a bit. You almost lose control of your bladder from being startled.

“Why not? Are you hiding something? Is there something you're not telling me?”

He's about to lead you in a circle again. When you don't answer his questions, he walks forward with you squirming in his grip and your shoes dragging on the floor. Your back meets the wall. He brings a knee up to your lower stomach to apply pressure again. You beg him to stop. It's past time to hold onto pride. You just want him to stop before you wet yourself in front of him.

Something about the situation triggers a change in him. His eyes cloud over and his gaze drops to your pleading mouth. His lips part before he slams his mouth into yours. It's deep and rough. Nothing tender or sensual about it, making your fingers pull at his tie and suit jacket to make him stop, despite the blush returning to your face. His knee presses harder, resulting in a muffled cry into his mouth.

[hippolotamus]

Eddie’s thumb hovers over the location dropdown in the weather app, just like every day. And just like all those other days he allows himself to click it. The list unfolds as he huffs a humorless chuckle at how much it’s grown.

When he got his first cell, the only place he ever needed was current location. Technically, it’s still the only one he needs. Regardless he’s continued adding to it through the years. Hershey, Virginia Beach, a couple random towns in the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. Fucking Sundance, Wyoming. All because he gave up pretending he doesn’t need to know.

It’s sunny, mid-50s today. A nice break for the time of year. Eddie scrolls through the upcoming week, noting a heavy snowstorm hitting in a few days. His nose wrinkles and he begins to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. Another thing born out of pure habit.

Not for the first time he types out a few messages before deleting them again. Eddie doesn’t even know if he’s got the right number. It’s been nearly three years since they exchanged anything at all. Not since Eddie could have manned up and told Shannon he could be a father, but not a husband. Not her husband, anyway.

He could have just been honest and said what he wanted when she finally decided to show up in her second trimester. He and Evan could have continued building a life together. But Eddie’s never claimed to be smart. Especially when it comes to all the bullshit his own dad drilled into his head about responsibility and honor and god knows what the fuck else. In the end it was too sticky to let go, trapping him like a spider web.

He can’t even say it was worth it because she loves him and they’re making it work for the sake of Christopher. Because why would that have happened? Instead all he got was a tour in Afghanistan, divorce papers (not that he’s surprised or blames her at all) and coming back to an empty house. Well, not totally empty. He’s got a son he’s still getting to know outside of a screen and shitty internet connection. A son he could have been raising with the love of his life this whole time.

Hope your coat’s warm enough, cowboy he types.

“Daddy!” Chris babbles from the floor, using Eddie’s pant leg to pull himself to standing. His toothy smile is on full display while he looks up at Eddie like he hung the goddamn moon and stars.

“Hey there little man.” Eddie tosses his phone to the side in favor of picking up his son and arranging him on his lap. Chris snatches up the yellow car from the next couch cushion, choosing to run it in a small loop over Eddie’s forearm, shoulder and chest. “Where are you off to today? Big race?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously. “Outer space,” he says as though that should have been obvious.

Eddie chuckles to himself. “Of course. How long until liftoff?”

There’s no answer as plastic wheels continue zooming along until Chris decides he’d rather be on the floor again. Eddie loosely assists as his son climbs back down. Some days are more difficult than others, but he tries to follow the physical therapist’s advice to let Chris do as much as he can by himself. She says it won’t do either of them any good in the long run. Eddie can certainly see the wisdom in that even if he’s constantly itching to roll Chris in layers of bubble wrap.

He blindly grabs for his phone, buzzing from the coffee table. “Hello?”

At first there’s complete silence and he winces thinking it’s yet another telemarketer. Before he can check he hears rustling, like someone’s covering the mouthpiece.

“Hello?” He asks again, more insistent this time.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

Eddie thinks he might drop the phone. Or throw up. Maybe both? Probably both.

“Evan?”

tagged by the lovely and talented @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks for Inspiration Saturday (go check their posts, I’m very excited) Instead of working on anything current, I wrote this instead. Not sure I have any actual plans to expand it, I just had to get it out of my system, y’know? So, bon appetit or whatever 💖

no pressure tagging (lmk if you want added or removed) @stereopticons @this-is-bwr @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @tizniz @theotherbuckley @elvensorceress @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @buddierights @chaosandwolves @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @loserdiaz @spaceprincessem @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @epicbuddieficrecs

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows

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Masterlist

Is this a prison sentence? No, if it was a prison sentence, you would be in a cell, bound and chained. 

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t have had the ropes removed from your wrists to shake hands with Bang Chan, Jarl of Miroh. 

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t be being led throughout the keep by the Jarl’s squire to your room. 

And if it was a prison sentence, you most certainly would not be thinking about if you were allowed access to the collection of books that decorate every shelf in the building.

“Miroh is pleasant this time of year,” Jeongin’s voice brings you out of your head. “The Harvest Festival is in a few weeks.”

Erbus had only two festivals: one for the Summer Solstice and one for the Winter Solstice. Even then, the celebrations were scarce. 

Based on what your mother used to tell you, the celebrations used to be poem worthy. People would dance in the streets, food covered every inch of the tables, songs would be sung for the entire night and into the next morning.

Not anymore. Now they were merely a formality. Some shopkeepers would set up their wares outside the store. A few taverns would serve a special dish, perhaps charge half price for ale. 

Once Elves were banished, everything took a turn for the worst in Erbus. 

“I have never heard of The Harvest Festival.” You answered Jeongin. You might as well attempt to be civil with him; you still feel bad for that nasty kick to the stomach. 

Also, if this is your new life, may as well make friends. 

Jeongin looked over at you surprised, “Really? I thought all kingdoms on the continent celebrated The Harvest Festival.”

“Nay, not in Erbus.”

Jeongin nodded, “Do you enjoy celebrations?”

You thought for a moment, keeping your eyes in front of you to watch where you were walking. “I do, I enjoy them very much.”

“Then you will love The Harvest Festival.”

A small smile creeps over your face. “I trust your word then.”

After climbing a set of steps, Jeongin takes you down a hallway with doors lining the walls.

“This is where higher level positions of the court sleep. Lord Minho, Felix, and Sir Changbin’s rooms are here as well.” 

Looking at each door, they all looked the same. Except for one door that had a floral wreath on the front of it. Orange and purple flowers blooming on the ring. 

“Is that Felix’s room?”

“Aye, perceptive, my Lady.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “I am no Lady. Please refer to me casually.”

Jeongin smiles and nods. When you look at him, you see the little dimples in his cheeks and it makes your heart melt. He looks so boyish when he smiles. 

“Here we are then.” He says, opening one of the doors. The door directly next to Felix’s. 

“I am to sleep up here?” You asked incredulously. 

Jeongin blinked at you, “You are the Jarl’s mercenary, of course.” 

He said it like it was the most obvious statement ever. 

Truly, you were expecting to be put into a shared room littered with cots and one chest to put your belongings. Maybe if you were lucky there would be a divider between beds for some privacy. 

“I…” your voice got caught in your throat, “I have my own room?”

Jeongin just stares at you as if you have three heads. His hand is still on the doorknob, keeping the door open. 

“Yes, Y/N.” He smiles, it reaches his eyes, “You have your own room.”

Finally, you look away from him and into the room. The sun is setting, bathing the space in a brilliant orange and pink light. From your position in the hallway, you’re only able to see the foot of the bed and straight to the grand window on the opposite wall from the door. 

It overlooked the heart of Miroh’s capital. In front of the window there was a cushioned bench tucked against it, creating a perfect nook to sit in. Various throw blankets draped over the red pillows. 

Jeongin watched your face with a hint of his own amusement before stepping into the room and motioning for you to follow him. 

Slowly, you let your feet bring you inside. It’s already warm, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a ‘blanket wrapped around your shoulders’ way. 

That warmth was coming from the small fireplace inside the wall opposite the bed. 

The large bed sat against the left wall, jutting out into the room. A large, fabric canopy covered the mattress. You had seen drawings of beds like this in books before. Usually princesses slept upon them.

The softest of linens covered the mattress with at least eight pillows on top of it. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden chest, a circular rug underneath it. 

On the other side of the bed, to the left of the window, was a vanity. A plush stool tucked underneath it. 

Reds and golds decorated every cloth in the room in a regal manor. 

Your feet carried you towards the bed, fingers reaching down and running over the blankets. It’s so soft you could cry. 

On either side of the fireplace were two large bookcases. The shelves were scarce, which, to you, meant endless possibilities. A wardrobe against the wall next to the door. 

The flames in the hearth lick up the walls and crackle in a comforting manor. 

Is this truly Miroh? This is the same Miroh that you were warned about? 

Back when you were a child, when you would play pretend with the other kids, the evil monsters were always from Miroh.

“I never had my own bedroom before.” You whisper quietly, keeping your hand on the blankets. “Even as a youngling, the house my family lived in had one room. There was one table, one cooking spit, and one bed.”

Jeongin stands by the door, his lips press together in a thin line as if he doesn’t know what to say. He only watches you move around with a sympathetic look to him. 

“Up until today, I slept on a bedroll every night, the night sky was my ceiling. Most summers I would save my coin so that I may pay for a room in the inn on those blustering winter nights where I just couldn’t take the cold.”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, you let yourself feel the softness underneath your body. 

Every night, you’ll get to sleep on this bed every single night. 

Your fingers glide over the fabric, it feels so luxurious and divine. The pillows look so soft. 

“Well,” Jeongin grabs your attention, “I will leave you to decompress. I believe you’ve had a long day.”

The joke pushes a laugh from your chest. 

“If you are looking to train at all, you could always join us on the training grounds tomorrow. The guards and soldiers all train together at first light.”

“You train with the guards?”

“Aye, even a Jarl’s squire needs to practice his sword arm.”

You smile at him, “I’ll consider it.” There’s a pause. “I apologize for the kick, Jeongin.” You apologize bashfully.

The squire simply laughs, it sounds so genuine. “No need, really. If anything, I should be appealing to you to teach me some of your abilities.”

“If I decide to show my face on the training grounds, I’ll practice with you as my apology.”

Jeongin smiles back at you and nods. “I’m holding you to that.” He laughs, “I will leave you to it then. If you ever need to find me, my quarters are down by the armory.”

You watch him turn to leave before a thought comes to your head. “Oh, Jeongin!” You catch his attention, he whips around to look at you. “Do– ah– are we able to get food somewhere?”

He chuckles, “The kitchens are always open. Help yourself.”

You nod a thank you and he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. 

There’s a few moments where you sit there, listening to Jeongin’s footsteps fade away. 

Is this real? Are you going to wake up any second now and you’re going to be chained to a torture table to be drawn and quartered? 

Quickly, you reach over and pinch your arm. 

No, this is real. The small sting of pain fades almost immediately. 

Your room. This is your room. 

Your body falls backwards onto the bed and your hands cover your face. A bright smile stretching over your lips no matter how much you try to stop yourself. Bubbling laughter comes from your chest and you cover your mouth to stop it.

How is this even possible?

The plushness of the mattress keeps you there for an undetermined amount of time. It’s like the furniture came with invisible arms, keeping you wrapped up in its tight embrace. It’s the comfiest thing you’ve ever laid on.

The sunlight in your room begins to shift and darken as the day passes. You simply lay there with your eyes closed. Not quite sleeping, but also not quite awake. 

Three quick knocks at your door brings you out of your dream-like state.

Slowly, you stand up and make your way towards the door. Who could that be?

When you pull open the door, you peak outside warily and you’re met with with a ray of sunshine. 

Felix’s smile immediately brings the sun back into your room and you open the door a bit wider to greet him. 

“Y/N,” he smiles even brighter, “I believe I promised you the safe return of your belongings.”

When you look down, you notice a bundle of armor with a sword on top. A small sigh of relief comes out as you grab everything from him. 

“Thank you very much, Felix.”

“It is no trouble at all. I am relived to see you in front of me, I have to say.”

“Oh?” You ask, turning around. You walk back into your room, leaving the door open for Felix to come in. The cleric follows after you, but sticks close to the door. 

“Aye, some part of me worried that you would not take kindly to the Jarl’s offer.” He admits. 

“It is not like I had a choice,” you mumble, setting your armor down on top of the chest. “It was either take the deal or be tried and hung.”

Felix makes a noise that he agrees with you, a small laugh coming after it. 

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you take your sword in your hands, pulling it from its sheath slightly to inspect it. 

Sliding the sword back in, you lean it against your bed. 

“Y/N.” Felix’s voice catches your attention. 

Without turning to look at him, you answer, “Yes, Felix?”

“Are you certain you took a tonic?”

Your heart thuds against your chest, a chill ripping through your arms. But you don’t show any sort of reaction, you take it in stride. 

“Quite. I had picked it up from an alchemist a few weeks ago. It proved quite useful, no?”

“It is just…” When Felix trails off, that’s when you choose to look at him. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes watching the fire dance. “In my years of study, I have never seen a regenerative tonic have effects longer than an hour. If you were to have taken it before-“ he cuts himself off, sighing and finally looking back at you. 

Those blue eyes. It looks like they see right through you. It’s a miracle you don’t begin squirming. 

“Do you remember which alchemist you purchased it from? Perhaps I can study it?”

Quickly, you shook your head. “I’m afraid I do not. They were a traveling merchant I met on the roads of Erbus.”

The lies fell through your teeth too easily. This was more than lying, though, it was self preservation. 

Felix stares at you for a long moment, an emotion flickers behind his eyes briefly, his eyebrows twitched and his lip quivered. 

“I see. I fear it may be hard to obtain this tonic again, then. You see, I never travel to Erbus, I go out of my way not to.”

Your eyebrows pull together and your body turns towards his. “Felix?”

“Have a great night, Y/N.” 

Without another word, Felix turns on a heel and quickly walks out of your room, closing the door behind him. 

“That was… odd…” you whisper to yourself, staring at the door.  ----------------------------------------------

You waited until the moon was in the sky for at least 4 hours before venturing out of your room to find the kitchens. If you waited any longer, your stomach may have eaten itself. 

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. Every single hallway in this keep looked identical. 

Sconces with lit candles sat between windows that allowed moonlight to stream in. Deep red curtains hung on either side of each window.

Occasionally you would see a small table with two chairs on either side, a candle or a bundle of flowers would be on top. 

And of course, shelves upon shelves of books. 

Most of the titles you had never even heard of. Some were in different languages and others appeared to be sold old as if they were stolen from tombs of the ancient. 

You were stopped in front of one of the many windows, looking outside to what looked like the gardens. 

Even at night, some of them seemed to glow. Perhaps Felix had some part of that, they looked like the flowers that hung in the healing ward. 

A large stone fountain sat in the middle of a light cobblestone path, lined with beautiful rose bushes. The flowers were no longer in bloom, but you were able to identify them, even from this distance.

When you turned on your heel to leave, you accidentally smacked right into a body. A startled yelp leaving your lips. 

“By The Six, I apologize. I usually have my bearings.” You say quickly, looking at who you ran into. His hands hot shot out to grab your arms to keep you steady. 

He was tall, dressed in the same black leather armor that Minho was wearing earlier. Straighter brown hair hung over his forehead and stopped right above a sharp set of eyes. His lips were pulled in a straight line. 

“You must be the mercenary then.” His voice is low, and if you’re being honest, much softer than you were expecting. 

With the way his eyes track even the smallest movement you make, you expected his voice to be harsh.

“I am. I hope what you’ve heard is not too cruel.”

He takes his hands away, but you can still feel the warmth of where he grabbed them.

“What I heard is that an outsider came into Miroh, slaughtered four men in an extraordinary fashion, and was then offered a job.”

“I—“ you open your mouth to defend yourself but he cuts you off again. 

“I must say, I could not wait to see you for myself. It is not every day we have such excitement within the keep, nonetheless receive a new court member.” A smirk crosses his face and your mouth snaps shut. “My position is similar to yours, except when the Jarl sends me on jobs, no one knows about it.”

“A rogue, then?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. Your arms come up and cross over your chest. 

“Aye, you may call it that.”

“You and I are two sides of the same coin then.” A smirk on your face mirrors his for a moment. His sneaky, playful nature seems to have rubbed off on you rather quickly. 

“It seems that way.” 

The two of you study each other for a moment.

“You have a name?” You ask.

“Seungmin.”

“Can you do me a favor, Seungmin?” His response to you is a lift of the brow. “Can you please show me where the kitchens are in this maze of a castle.”

A soft chuckle comes from his chest and the corners of his lips twitch. “Aye, I can do that.”

Without another word, Seungmin turns on his heel and walks in another direction. “Let’s go, Y/N.” ----------------------------------------------

“Erbus? I do not see why you were so adamant on returning there.” Seungmin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He was leaning against one of the countertops in the kitchens. 

The staff went to sleep hours ago, leaving the ingredients to you. Instead of actually making something, you chose to sample some of the bread and cheese that was available.

“Perhaps it is not the best, but it is where I was born and raised.” you answered, taking a bite out of the loaf of bread in your hand. 

Seungmin was holding the other half in his. He took a bite. “I have heard naught but cruelty and stories of woe from Erbus.”

“I have only heard the same of Miroh. My father used to tell me that the former Jarl was going to come get me during the night if I did not finish my chores.”

The rogue laughs under his breath. “We had similar stories about Erbus. As a youngling I was told that one of the villages was constantly bathed in flame.”

You bite your bread, “We do,” you tease, “it is awfully hot there this time of year.” The quick joke falls from your lips and is well received by the rogue, who lets out another easy chuckle.

“Are you always awake this late Seungmin?”

“Nay, I was departing for an assignment when I ran into you.”

Your jaw falls open, a bit shocked at his statement. “I apologize, I did not mean to distract you.”

He held up his hand to stop your rambling. 

“It is quite alright, a quick detour to the kitchens will not cause my quest to fail.”

You let out a small breath before taking another bite of your bread. “Are you able to tell me what your mission is?”

Seungmin only smiles, “Of course not, silly mercenary. I would not even want to tell you and bore you with all the details.”

He pushes his weight off the counter and walks towards the door, passing you on the way out. Seungmin’s shoulder brushes lightly against yours as he passes you. “I trust you can find your way back to your chambers?”

“Probably not, but I will find it eventually.”

“Have a great night, Y/N. Speak soon.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to your own thoughts once more. Every time you enter a new part of the keep, you’re met with a new face. 

With the bread now in your stomach, you turn and fill a mug with some fresh water and take a long sip.

It’s your first night in Miroh. The first night of many to come it seems. When do you suppose that the Jarl will give you your first mission? What sort of quests is he going to send you out on anyway?

He’s the Jarl of the entire hold, what would he need you for that he cannot send out guards?

It wasn’t until you finished the mug of water that you realized how thirsty you were. When was the last time you had a sip of water? Most likely this morning when you and Guatier came to the hold.

That was another thing, what ever happened to him?

You assume he was killed based upon what they tried to do with you. But killing him seems too nice for what he did to them.

Perhaps he was down in their dungeons.

That was a question for another day.

Tomorrow, you’ll take Jeongin up on that offer to train with him and the rest of the guards. 

But, for right now there was an enormous, cozy, warm mattress in your own personal bedroom waiting for you to rest your head in. 

That was if you ever found your room again. 

[kerryweaverlesbian]

do a director's commentary on an overcrowded empty room [gun emoji]

Also known as The sampreg abortion fic! Obviously this commentary will be talking about abortion, pregnancy horror and unwanted pregancy just as the fic does, so, just a little warning.

I'll start with the title! It's "an overcrowded empty room" in Sam's head because he has so many guys in there (his soul, soulless!sam, cage memories sam who is locked away, meg in the past, and potentially the foetus eventually, if it's anything like Jack) but he's got those missing memories, hence, empty. Plus, it signifies Meg's (and the pregnancy's) oversize presence in the physical space of the room they are in. Okay, now into the fic:

The room is cold. Freezing, even. Sam’s breath is misting even without the ghost being present. He rubs his sleeve over the misted window and peers out, catching the double flash of Dean’s light from the opposite building and sending his own signal back. Some time over the next two hours the restless spirit of Providence Carter is going to manifest in one of these buildings and try to reach down one of their throats to stop one of their hearts with her brittle, icy fingers. Revenge for being locked out in the snow 200 years ago, or at least that’s the theory.

Turning from the window, Sam surveys the small room. Thin plaster walls painted with a faded pale sun over the door frame. Exposed wood floor with visible splinters striking up from the planks. One table, one chair, one well-made bed, and one demon-turned-situational-ally. No places to hide.

This is going to sound like I'm lying but this opening was genuinely the hardest thing to write lmao. I kept changing my mind about the setting, even after discussing with @autisticandroids when to place it in the season (thank you for that, by the way!!). I was stuck between a stake-out and them getting locked in adjacent cells during the episode Unforgiven. Here's some excerpts from that original beginning:

Sam watched the sheriff walk away from his cell and clenched his jaw. How was he supposed to make up for whatever his body did here when he's locked up? Hell, how is he supposed to make up for it when he doesn't know what he did? He cuffs the bars lightly to let off some frustration. It doesn't help. It just makes his knuckles cold. "Aw, keep pawing at them, kitty cat, I'm sure you'll get through eventually."

... "Meg?" When he turned, he saw the demon stretch against the bars of the cell next to his, showing off her stolen body and giving a teasing wiggle of her fingers. "What the hell are you doing here? "Oh, you know, living my life, running from Crowley. Hiding out in the last place he'd look for any self-respecting demon. I'd feel better with my knife back, by the way. Thought we'd worked out that it was a loaner." "Your knife - Ruby's knife?" Sam's mind raced. He must have seen Meg some time when his soul was missing. He doesn't know what happened, but he does know when to call a bluff: "I think we worked out that it's mine."

I was getting too much in the weeds of the facts of the episode, and I knew it would hold me back if I couldn't have them touch other than through the bars, and it didn't really make sense for Meg to hide out from Crowley's remaining loyal demons in a prison cell.

Through talking it through with my bff, I settled on doing the old "this ghost is going through something similar to their conflict". As Meg verbalises later, Sam is worried about being upstaged by a baby if he tells Dean about the pregnancy as well as being "locked out" of the decision on whether or not he is allowed his memories (which suggests he would similarly be locked out of a decision on keeping the baby).

“I’m thinking of making an offer,” Meg says, leaning her elbow on the table and airily gesturing around the room, “It’s really got that home-y feel.”

Sam rolls his eyes without replying and leans back against the window, keeping an eye on the street. He doesn’t want to miss it if Providence tries for someone else, if they’re wrong about her range of power.

While part of this fic is exploring how Meg and Sam are similar, Meg and Dean are also very similar, so Sam is very good at brushing off her attempts at being annoying, lol

“Thank you, you’ve been a great audience,” Meg quips. “You know Sam, when you want someone to do you a favour, it’s polite to talk back to them.”

“You’re not doing me a favour, you’re here for the knife. Which you’ll never get if you let me die.”

As you can see, I retained Meg's motivation of wanting to get the knife from the alternative setting, so it wasn't a complete waste of time!

“Pity. Say, why do you think Dean took the angel? Do you think he was jealous? He was in a pretty big hurry to get him out of my sight.”

“Sure, Meg, all of our decisions revolve around you.”

Sam actually isn’t sure why Dean was in such a rush to claim Cas in their ‘split-up-and-look-for-clues’ meeting, but he has his suspicions. Dean’s been twitchy lately, getting Sam to repeat plans back to him multiple times, warning him not to ‘get carried away’, whatever that meant. Whatever the other Sam had done, it’d made Dean lose trust in both of them. Which isn’t fair, but when has life ever been fair?

Neither of them are completely right about Dean's decision here: Dean DOES want to stop Cas and Meg being alone together (because of the kiss. If they kiss again he'd want to be present for it lol); but his actual motivation is that Cas has been acting weird lately and even though Dean is doing his best to trust him, he is taking the opportunity to ask Cas if he's okay, without the risk of scratching Sam's wall by bringing up memories of the times they've seen Cas recently; but also, he doesn't fully trust Sam still, so 🤷‍♂️. Absolutely none of this is in-text this is just what I was thinking with these lines lol. Sam is being so insular right now that he couldn't figure out an explanation that isn't centered on him.

He wishes Dean would just tell him everything that happened, but he’s always hit by Dean’s fear of “The Wall”. Don’t scratch it, Death had said, but how can he not? He wakes from hazy dreams with his hands strangling the air, his aim is sharper and he’s started getting nauseous at the sight of blood, but fine, sure, he’s not allowed to know. There’s a kicking under his stomach sometimes, and a tiny whimpering cry in his ears in the early mornings, but he’s not allowed to know.

“So, what are you going to do with it?”

This is the first line I thought of when I first saw the prompt :3 I knew immediately it should be Sam and Meg talking through his options. Meg actually didn't seem to know Sam was missing a soul in Caged Heat, just that he was acting weird, so I had a cut line of her getting her information from higher sources, aka Balthazaar. I just think they'd be a fun pair.

Sam’s gaze snaps to Meg, and she nods casually at where his hand had come up to his stomach. He slices it away quickly, having not even realised he’d moved it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, but the words catch on the way out, unconvincing. Meg’s flat look is both unimpressed and amused.

Sam in canon isn't often scared while talking to demons, he is very good at putting up a brave face. Here, though, he's a raw edge after Hell and it's the first time he's talking about this to anyone.

“Uh huh. How far along are you? Five weeks? Six? When do you think it’s going to start growing fingernails?”

I hope everyone read the mpreg tag before getting this far because this would be baffling to just stumble into lmao.

The blood starts rushing in Sam’s ears, and he swallows hard against the burst of saliva in his mouth. He stares hard at a whorl on the floor, trying to count the rings, trying to block out Meg’s mocking confirmation of what he’s been afraid of ever since he came back to his body.

“I think it might try to scratch its way through your guts, if it gets big enough. Like a DIY C-section, only the surgeon’s an idiot. Do you think you’d choke on your own blood first, or would you feel it busting out, for every excruciating second?”

“Shut up. Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pregnancy horrorrrrr! Do you think this is something Meg has experienced in Hell. Morbid thought.

Meg laughs, rough, and it’s like a chainsaw through the neck, like an industrial sander forced into your face, like- like nothing.

Nothing.

He can’t remember what he’d just been thinking about. This has been happening to him since he got back. The blank flashes. He knows that a memory of the Cage is there, that the memory is happening to him, but not the content of it. It’s different from memories of the other him. It’s like memories of being soulless are hidden in a folder somewhere in his mind, but the memories of the cage are being manually deleted every time they pop up.

Where does memory live, he wonders, in the body or in the soul? Are those his memories, or are they someone else’s? Can he really call himself the real Sam if he’s missing the last year of his life, on Earth as it was in Hell?

Now we're getting into it!!! Thesis questions of the fic! Who IS Sam in season 7? My interpretation is actually that ensoulled!sam isn't fully "the real sam" either, since he needs to re-intergrate Soulless and Cage Memories Sam in a later episode. If Soulles Sam is all Id, then Ensoulled Sam is unchecked Superego, which is why he is consumed with worry about what is true and what is moral and what is socially acceptable which prevents him from being able to take the necessary survival action of abortion without being given an ethical "out" by Meg.

I don't think that interpretation fully checks out with how ensoulled sam acts for his part of the season but that's what I've done for this fic!

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” Meg muses, cutting into Sam’s rising panic, “it’s not going to get that far.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to get rid of it.”

This was the second half of the first line I thought of for the fic. Meg knows that Sam is going to get rid of it. A demon should be used to voice what people don't want to know about themselves, and Sam right now does not want to accept that he'd already made a decision that could be considered selfish when he is trying to prove himself moral. Abortion is not selfish, of course, but it can be perceived as such by others, and frankly likely would be by Dean. Dean is not anti-choice in general but he is pro-Dean's-choice-of-what-happens-to-their-family. I think if Dean did find out about the pregnancy and that it'd kill Sam he would be team abortion but he'd view it as a "necessary evil" of "killing a baby". He'd be saying things like "how many chances are we gonna have to be fathers" and "you were marked by the devil and you still turned out alright" in an ironic reversal of how he felt about Jack.

She scratches a fingernail over the surface of the table, a thin, rude sound in the silence that follows her pronouncement. Sam listens to it, though he doesn’t want to.

"Why do you- why do you think that?” He hates that he stumbles halfway through. If his dad was here he’d - well. If his dad was here he’d have a whole host of other problems.

This was a small flashback in an early draft:

Sam flinches. He doesn't mean to. It was the first thing Dad had trained out of him, banging surfaces at random and firing his gun by Sam's face and barking Sam to attention when he was engrossed in his studying. "Don't give it away," Dad had always said, "Only thing you've got against these things is your gun and your wits, and half the time you aint got your gun. Don't give them a free look inside your head. You have to stay in control." Control. Sure. Like that's not a pipe dream built on a pipe dream. He hugs further into the window.

But I already have interruptions of Hell memories, and I wanted to keep the fic within this room otherwise. If Sam could 'escape' to his other memories, and we had voices other than Meg and Sam's in the main fic, it would feel less like he's trapped in here and being forced to confront uncomfortable truthes.

“Hm. Could be I’m psychic,” Meg bounces her eyebrows playfully, “That was a fun year, right? You ever miss it? Being star of the show?”

(I actually disagree with the idea that Sam was "the main character" at the start of the show. There are two main characters and they have always shared screentime and balanced their -centric episodes)

“Meg, if you know something, I swear to god I’ll-”

“You’ll what? I can smoke out of this body before you can even blink, baby-boy, and then you’ll be choked out by the undead Puritan all by your lonesome, so, please, tell me what you think you’re going to do to me. And make sure to say it real slow for me, handsome, I think it could really get my motor running.”

Sam squeezes his hands into fists, then lets them drop. There’s no point rising to these little mind games. He looks out of the window again, watching a snowflake dissolve against the pane. A hot poker sizzling against flayed flesh. Nothing. Nothing. He sighs, and turns back towards Meg.

I made the room they're in cold as a counterpoint to Hell and the feotus which are increasingly very hot.

“What’s it like?”

“Honey, if you don’t know what getting turned on feels like, I’m sure we can-”

“Not that,” Sam cuts her off quickly, from years of experience with Dean’s stupid jokes, “Smoking out. Diving into someone else’s body. How do you know what’s you and what’s them? How do you keep track?”

“Aw, are you feeling all shook up? Poor baby. Well - I guess you won’t be the baby much longer, after you start showing.”

“Too scared to give me a real answer, huh?”

Haha, get her Sammy!

That gets her, her hand clawing on the table and her shoulders tensing. Sam’s not going to pretend it isn’t satisfying to see her on the back foot. Meg might raise her chin and sit back in her chair, but her eyes flick over black, which always happens when demons are feeling threatened.

Demons in my fics only try to look demon-y when they're feeling insecure 😈 and it's always cute to me! Very tsundere. Sam learned this demon factoid from observing Ruby, despite her treachery. I have a lot of thoughts about the day-to-day of samruby which will eventually come up in my megrubyava fic if I ever get these middle chapters done!

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely. I don’t bother with all that shit.” Sam’s brow furrows, and Meg laughs at him again, meanly. “Not what you wanted to hear, huh? Well it’s the truth. Every jump I’m a new Meg. You’ve seen me: I’m a gas. I fill my containers. If there’s something in there that gets mixed in, then it gets mixed in. I take them with me. Ms Masters gave me her name. This one gave me her sparkling personality.”

This concept is from Meg saying, in born under a bad sign, that she IS Sam now while she was possessing him. Classic episode for possession enjoyers, so much barely covered on the subject of personhood.

Meg winks, and runs her tongue over her bottom lip, to which Sam rolls his eyes again. How do demons not get bored of the sexual harassment routine?

Lampshading her sexual harassment and having Sam not feel any fear from it is key to making his interactions with her not intensely horrible. I use the same technique in A Light Above Descending: to make Dean's violence against Sam not appear as Factual Domestic Violence I had Sam not act afraid of him and laugh when Dean suggests he would be. Meg needs to do and say awful things, but I need this fic not to be derailed into a different story.

“And me?”

“Dull as a pile of rocks, but what can you do?”

“No, what did you find in me, when you possessed me? What makes me?”

Sam expects other people to have a better read on him and his actions than he does himself. He knows, as shown later, that he is good at convincing himself he is doing the right thing and then it has dire consequences (as with the demon blood) as a result of being made constantly guilty and wrong, shown in the Amy Pond episode flashbacks of being harassed on the phone by John to research faster or people will die and it's on you if they do. At first he copes with this by rebelling and leaving, but by now he has taken hunting as the right thing to do even as his conscience struggles with it. Dean appears to instinctively "know" right from wrong and who to trust and Sam feels that he needs him as a moral guide.

Meg shakes her head. “I’m disappointed in you, Sam. Thought you were supposed to be a good listener. Let’s say it again for the people at the back: I don’t know. I don’t care what’s me and what isn’t. I’m never going to know, so why waste my time worrying about it?”

“So, what, you don’t try to figure it out because you’re too lazy?”

“Pretty much,” Meg stretches her arms out and slouches artfully, “I’m kind of a free spirit.”

Sam folds his arms. "That's bullshit."

“Is it?” The sarcasm is acerbic. “I’d love to know how you got to that one.”

“Because it is! I’ve seen how you think, Meg. I might not remember myself very well right now, but I remember you. Possession is a two-way street, you know? Where did my compassion go, if we got so linked? Where was my love for my family? You put it on lock-down. Because you were afraid. You were afraid of being more than a body, you were afraid of caring about anything other than yourself, and I think you still are. What are you even doing here, Meg? Bargaining for a knife so you can kill more of your own kind? Are you going to keep hiding for the rest of your miserable little life? You might tell yourself otherwise to make yourself feel better, but I know, deep down, you’re a coward.”

Meg being confronted with her fear of connection as a lead in to getting closer to Cas in s7 🥳 everything is about herrrr. It may be a bit clunky for Sam to say outright that she's more than a body but whatever sometimes you gotta just say it. As per Caged Heat, Meg is thoroughly objectified and locked into her body, a deeply horny episode about fluids and sex and what it means to be "blood".

There would have been silence after this outburst, if not for the fact that Sam is panting from the force of it. Then, the sound of Meg’s chair scraping back across the floor. The plastic-y swish of her faux-leather jacket as she stalks across the room, then the click of Sam’s jawbone when she grips his face painfully one hand and pulls his face down to glare at him directly in the eye. An invisible demonic weight keeps his feet heavy on the floor and his hands to the wall, but he glares back with feeling.

Meg has a plastic faux leather jacket because she is wrapping herself in the façade of unaffectedness, she is not inviting any other flesh onto hers because she IS a little scared of what it means for her personhood to swap bodies. This is why she hangs onto them until they are broken beyond repair. Other demons like Ruby, Lilith, the one on the plane, hop around unless they have reason to stay but Meg literally came back to the 2.0 body after it had been stabbed through the hand with the demon blade. Crowley, I think, hangs on to his body because he's transgender and he likes the feeling of it, he has a body that, as a man, commands respect and is not expected to be objectified in ways that Meg's young women and Sam bodies don't.

“You know what’s worse than being a coward, Sam?” An unseen force pressing suddenly on his throat keeps him from responding. “Being a dead coward. Being so weighed down with feelings that you can’t move. That you can’t breathe. That you can’t go through with what you have to do to survive. You want to know how I know you’re going to get rid of it?”

Meg digs at Sam’s stomach with harsh fingers, and a thrashing starts up under his skin, the needy cry whining its way into his hearing. He shuts his eyes for a moment, but he can’t dispel it.

“I know, because that’s what you have to do. Even if it doesn’t kill you on exit, it’s going to take your spot, right? What’s Dean going to care about coddling you if there’s a baby on the scene? He’s already avoiding you. Poor little Sammy is going to be left out in the cold again.”

Dean loves babies sorry Sam. It's that tough point of being the babiest sibling (like me :3). You want to be respected and impressive and independent...but also it's nice to be the babiest one...it's nice to be looked after and being able to go 🥺 to people who love you and have them be nice to you. It's a selfish, childish point of view, but it can still surface.

Struggling against Meg’s hold is pointless, but Sam does it anyway. The force on his throat presses harder, and floating spots start to flash in his vision. Meg’s expression changes to a dark glee, and she digs towards the kicking again.

“How about I do you a real favour, huh? How about I reach in there and drag the thing out by the hair right now? One time offer, devil baby gone. Before it starts stealing from you too. How much more space do you even have in that head of yours? Maybe it'll cook your brain out before it even manages to kill you. And when there's no one there to snack on it, shame really.”

Head smashed open against a cold wall, steaming ropes of brain hanging down, trailing into the mouth of. Nothing. Of the devil. Nothing. Hands pressing onto his stomach. Into his stomach. Nothing. Nothing.

Lucifer just put the baby in there because frankly I didn't want to write a graphic rape scene. The violation is what matters more than the mechanics.

“Please,” Sam gasps as soon as she releases his throat, his voice rasping and painful, “Please, Meg.”

He could say he was trying to ask her to let him go. To save the baby, and his life. She lied to him. She tricked him. He had to do it. It was the only way out. He had always been good at justifying himself, after the fact.

Not to get personal but this is born of my own worries that in disagreements with friends I am just better at articulating an argument and less likely to apologise to end an argument rather than actually being right with what I'm saying and a fair friend. Maybe my justifications to myself for inaction on certain things are excuses. I don't know. It's a quandary.

Meg's hand plunges, burning hot, through his stomach and grips something close to his soul. She pulls slowly, and it feels like watching his own arm being ripped off, but he bites back his scream, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. A sickly, dim light comes out with her hand, and it dissipates in under a second, with a single, pathetic whimper. Meg flexes her hand, which is now covered in small needle-point pricks of blood.

Sam is gooooood at pain tolerance and keeping a straight face which I loooove. It's a bit of wish fulfilment that a (soul) pregancy can be so easily terminated without further physical detriment. The feotus is kind of an idea: the fear of looking too closely at his memories, and once it is pulled out into the light and examined, while it hurts at the time it is ultimately dissolved. Sam needs to confront what he's been through, he needs to re-unite with his other, hidden selves.

“Hungry little bastard,” Meg comments, dropping her hold on Sam and letting him crumple to the ground.

A little nod to demon blood sam, I did have a vague idea initially of Meg donating some of her blood so that Sam could use his psychic powers to abort it himself but it seemed kinda convoluted so I did Sam psychically does that in the accompanying poem instead

There's a cold emptiness inside him, but as he keeps breathing, it lessens. Filling my container, he thinks, woozily, tightening his arms around himself.

“Thanks,” he chokes out, to which Meg tuts and rolls her eyes.

“I hope you don't think I did that for you. I just didn't want the Antichrist 2.0 running around. It's hard enough dealing with normal demons out for my guts.”

Justifying herself. Avoiding an uncomfortable truth. Caring, despite herself. Sam laughs, and then he can't stop laughing, even as Meg asks him what his goddamn problem is.

“That's what you got from me,” is all he can say, until the hysterical relief takes him back to laughter, all the way until Cas and Dean show up, having fought off Providence while Meg and Sam, in Dean's words, had a nice little playdate.

Sam can have a little giggle!! As a treat!!!! He has recognised the self through the other, he is on the right track to actualization! Yippee!

“What's ticklin’ you, Elmo?” Dean demands, as Sam's laugh bubbles to a close.

“Don't worry about it,” Sam says, flashing a grin to Meg, who frowns in disgust, “just remembered something funny.”

Hehehe. Here I will talk about how I arrived at the direction of the fic:

Seeing the prompt of sam coming out of the cage pregnant + it being acceptable to end in any direction, I thought about how Sam making the CHOICE to end the pregnancy in a season where his capacity is questioned would be healing for him. Some other non meg ideas for who he could speak to about this were Gadreel (for some delicious dramatic irony) or Balthazaar (as their only non-Cas angel contact who has access to heavenly weapons) as Soulless!Sam. But I felt that a) the meat of the fic should be how Sam feels about this, and Soulless!Sam wouldn't be concerned b) it's weird to do a fic about prgnancy horror without a woman character even present and c) I love Meg and one of the other prompts was about sammeg as dark mirrors of each other.

Pregnancy brings up a lot of thoughts and fears about personhood. Your brain chemistry changes, your body changes, people treat you as a living incubator and put their hands on you without permission, and when you are percieved as a mother you are again treated as an extention of your children, even outside the perilous role of Mother in Supernatural. Having fairly recently read NIGHTBITCH, the idea of the monsterous pregnancy/motherhood was fresh in my mind.

Especially given the (horrific) Jack mind control angle of season 12, if this pregnancy doesn't kill Sam, it might kill Sam, if this antichrist has the same power level.

Do I have any other thoughts on this one.......it was easier than I was anticipating to write Sam now that I feel I understand him better. Shout out to season 11 for making me into a samgirl :) and I deliberately reigned in my Meggirlism to try and portray her as more of a villain but still ride the line of Spike-style frenemy. I think that's it! Thank you for the commentary request ☺️

[unserhermann-goering]

A fragment about Hermann getting slapped by a guard at the Nuremberg cafeteria:

Suddenly, the heavy double doors swung open and a group of US military police came in, escorting a tall, flabby man in handcuffs who seemed to float in his coat. Chadeyev, turning, recognized Field Marshal Hermann Goering’s pomaded hair, long, sensuous mouth, and deeply furrowed forehead. There must have been some unusual delay allowing a prisoner to eat in the cafeteria, Chadeyev thought, since normally the defendants returned to their jail cells during recess. He jumped up and fumbled for his press pass.

As Goering came nearer, Chadeyev saw that, although his waxy color showed the effects of imprisonment, he held his head high and his deep-set eyes looked around the room as if he owned it. The prisoner’s pudgy hand pointing to a corner table made Chadeyev’s mouth tighten with rage. For an instant, he measured the space between himself, Goering and the guards, imagining his hands on the flabby throat, but the moment passed and he gripped his camera even tighter.

By the time Chadeyev caught up with the group, Goering was sitting between two MPs. One of them was loosening his handcuffs. A young officer, in hard hat and gleaming white belt, who remained standing and alert, frowned as the photographer hobbled towards him

Chadeyev handed the officer his press pass, which said TASS/PHOTO in roman and Cyrillic letters. He uncapped his lens and waited impatiently, unsure whether to risk confiscation of his film by snatching at the chance to confront this murderer. Suddenly, Goering jumped up from the bench, his face purple with anger, his pale eyes nearly bursting from their sockets and spat a staccato stream of German words at the photographer. The American officer stared at Goering’s face, which was contorted with hatred.

Chadeyev stood immobile as the stream of insults washed over him. He spoke no German, but Goering’s tone was the same one that he had heard blaring from the loudspeakers, the verbal assault preceding the machine guns, in every Russian village and town, and he recognized "Russische" and "schweinehund." Although he remained outwardly impassive, he could feel his whole body tightening on the grief and fear that he had fought for five long years.

The young officer only hesitated a moment before shouting:

"Shut up, for Chrissake, shut up. Who the hell do you think you are?

They were now both screaming and the guard nearest to Goering, an older man, calmly turned and slapped him. The prisoner slid down on the bench, his hot face pale white. That was how Chadeyev, taking his time and pulling slowly on the frayed cord, captured him: a collapsed balloon. He waved a salute to thank the officer and returned to his table. Goering, still muttering, started to eat with his handcuffed hands.

Source: War’s End by Sophie Cook

[From HUMANITAS, Volume XI, No. 2, 1998 © National Humanities Institute, Washington, DC USA]

[artisttrova]

Anyway I'm feeling discouraged after the whole art stealing thing, so imma post a snippet from a fic I'm working on below the cut

Maybe if someone likes it, I'll actually finish this thing

Long, slender fingers slid over sweaty, stiff skin. A light flirtation that would lead to nothing of substance, but which brought brief pleasure to both participants in the process. Groomed and carefully manicured hands slid over the ribs, up to the chest of the man below them, then down to the lower abdomen and thighs, caressing and scratching, squeezing the skin and firm muscles. The pale figure smiled blatantly as they watched their partner blush and bite his lip, as he moved, wriggling under the soft pressure of their hands but making no effort to dodge the touch.

It couldn't last much longer. Morning would soon come, which meant they would separate again. And when the sun appeared above the horizon, the excitement of the game was suddenly gone. A frustrated sigh echoed through the room, and silence fell.

It wouldn't be long before Orochimaru's eternal patrolman would have to come and separate the old partners. They both had business outside of this musty hotel room. The very fact that they'd been allowed to spend the night together was already a miracle.

The remnants of heat were quickly leaving the space of their shared bed, swirling in the air in puffs of vapor, coiling like snakes.

The sunlight was just beginning to fill the room, dancing in bloody reflections across the walls like the fires of the underworld itself.

"Before I leave, I have one more question…Do you still hate me?" A raspy voice now sounded soft and wounded, allowing weakness to seep through the cracks for once in their lifetime. Their sickness, their poisonous loyalty to the one person, who no longer was devoted to them, has been soaking into their bones for long enough. They needed it out.

"No. Never did.” Serpentine eyes traced the outline of the figure on top of him. Oh it was deliciously painful to see them now. To feel the perfect silky skin against his own, cracked, hard and wounded flesh, to see the blue veins dance beneath the skin, like a pattern on antique porcelain, as if the body was meticulously created by an artist, quickly remembering, that it was indeed a painfully handcrafted work of bioengineering and easy access to Zetsu cells. But still. It didn't feel new. He knew this body beforehand, everchanging and beautiful, now, in its final form, in their new glory, he felt honored to be able to touch it. But the sun, touching that near perfect skin was a painful reminder, that in a few hours, he'd be once again deprived of their touch, of ever seeing their beautiful face and the silky raven locks. Of being loved by this bloodthirsty monster.

The sun, the cruel light, now touched their shared bed. In the dusty room of a godforsaken tavern on the edge of the world available to them, they didn't have to worry about being disturbed. At least for this night and for a fraction of the morning.

The sun danced like fire on the older shinobi's hair and softly diffused on the new forms their body had taken. The medic couldn't look away, eyes examining the appearance of his former master. This body did not belong to any of the definitions he had seen in medical books. Not once had he observed such forms in life either. On the surgical table, he had seen hundreds, if not thousands of bodies, and yet there was none like the one that now belonged to his master.

A soft, almost artificial femininity encased in a masculine, muscular figure. It was hard to even describe where the masculinity or femininity was kept in this figure. Rounded breasts, slim waist, and neat but still feminine hips. Broad shoulders and strong arms, broad chest, strong slender legs. It was like a mixture of everything that could be found in the human species, which made them look uniquely unhuman. He had never seen such pure androgyny. Such harmony between the two. A beautiful, terrifying body.

He let the thought slip into his mind that perhaps most would find such an appearance repulsive. But he didn't.

He didn't want to part with them, even now, not letting go for a moment of their lean, muscular thighs. If only time could be made to stop at this moment. He’d give away anything to stay forever on the uncomfortable mattress with the dusty sheets and the flowers, picked from the ground at the hotel entrance on the bedside table. If only the dawn sun would continue to shine on them, making the gold of their eyes shine like wet blood.

"I know your mind." They smiled, almost playfully, but the bitterness was flowing through every movement of their body. "You're lying, dear Kabuto."

"If you think so, then you don't really know me, I'm afraid." Medic smiled, his glance transfixed on the beauty before him.

Medic felt the tremble that went through Orochimaru's body and saw their skin suddenly get covered in goosebumps. "You're cold, master. Would you lay down beside me?"

Without a word, they sank down beside him, never meeting his gaze. Naked, open, like a bleeding wound. This was something Kabuto wasn't used to seeing.

"Out of all the things I've achieved. All the people I hurt and corrupted." They whispered, feeling the warmer hand hug their waist." You're the one who I couldn't forget. Couldn't forgive myself for abandoning. You're the person who was most devoted to me and the one who suffered the most. Because I failed to recognize my flaws."

“Never expected to hear you regret something.” Kabuto chuckled.

“I'm still a human.” They answered solemnly. “Even though it's hard to believe now.”

Kabuto couldn't help but notice their demeanor change. He sighed, realizing his comment was out of line. They were human. An old, regretful, and pained soul, even if sometimes it didn't look like it.

“You didn't abandon me.” He said quietly. “I made it so you could never leave me. I made you a part of me, for better or for worse."

"You did. " They sighed." And now when I look at myself, I see your face too."

The man traced his fingers across the beautiful skin of his partner." I thought that was a side effect of my transformation reserved only for me. To see the serpent eyes and marks and think of someone, who bears the same features."

"Of course, you would assume that." Kabuto felt them smile. He could only guess that they'd be happy to upstage him once again, even if just a little.

Kabuto smiled too, reminiscing on the past just for a second, thinking of the words that would please his partner the most."I still lack the foresight you possess, I'm afraid."

"You don't. You just don't care to use it."

The sun was filling the room more and more with light. The dancing of the light on the walls somehow cheered the man, even though morning meant they would soon have to be separated. The light fell again on his beautiful companion as if filling their existence with light, lighting up a fire on dark hair and long lashes.

They spoke again."Am I a painful memory to you?"

Kabuto almost chuckled at how pretentious and overly exaggerated the question sounded. But that was exactly Orochimaru's style. It was still something he loved about them. "You are. But… I don't mind. I learned to cherish this feeling."

"It matters not. The pain is still pain, no matter how you choose to interpret it."

"I disagree. There's a pain of regret and there's a pain of longing. I am well familiar with both and yet, what we've had was never a regretful memory for me."

Orochimaru turned their head to look at his face, still lying on Kabuto's chest. The look in their eyes was something Kabuto couldn't comprehend, yet, it made his heart skip a beat.

"I never got to say that to you back then, after the war." They pulled themselves up, resting their hands on the discomfort-soft bed beneath them. "Never told you I was proud of you. You saved both of us from my delusions and took the hardest hit. I'm grateful for that."

"Orochi…"

They didn't let him finish. "Don't thank me. Not for this."

"I love you." He whispered.

They smiled, yet it was a smile full of remorse and pain. "Why would you willingly put yourself through this? Loving someone like me? "

"Never in my life did I ever experience love without pain." He smiled, yet quickly looked away, seeing Orochimaru answer his loving gaze with a concerned look. "For now, I can forget how much I long for your touch. I can just enjoy it."

Orochimaru bent over, lowering themself to Kabuto's face, connecting their lips. They were once again above him, their naked body against his. The salty tang of roughened lips was sweeter than honey.

"Still." They pulled away, yet still hovered over the man, their hands buried in the pillow, below Kabuto's head. " That is a lie to say you never hated me."

"This again…Why would you think so?" Kabuto's hands touched their face, gently cupping the slightly fuller cheeks. He missed their cheekbones just a bit. He knew the sharpness of their features was a product of age and disease that had since been eliminated. Yet, these features were dear to him.

"I was inside your mind. I felt it. The rage, the discomfort, the hate…"

"All that was not towards you. " Kabuto stopped them." It was because you weren't there. Because I felt your presence in my mind, yet, still, physically, you were gone. Because the way you saw the world was now my own perspective and it crumbled before my very eyes."

"But…"

"There was not a day that passed that I didn't think about the fact that, had I not left you, you wouldn't be dead. That if I had been there even a few moments sooner, that I could save you. You were ill and vulnerable, and the bastard knew that. I knew that, but I deluded myself in my adoration for you. Blinded myself with your greatness. I left. Abandoned my place beside you… that was my rage."

"You're lying." They sat up, drawing distance between them. Their tone of voice remained calm, yet their irritation was noticeable. Kabuto could easily recognize the old pattern. The very same immediate defense, because they weren't right. "You were so proud and joyful you surpassed me. So harsh in your thoughts about all that I failed to achieve."

"Only because I had no reason to live, besides trying to achieve what you lacked. To continue your legacy through me.”

"That's a lie." They looked at him, their demeanor slightly changing towards annoyance." I felt it. All your hate. All the resentment. Deep in my soul. You can't deny it."

"You felt what I felt. That's true. Yet even I failed to recognize what those feelings were until years later…I was frustrated with you because I believed in your teachings." He took a deep breath, fixing his glasses. "Yet everything I did kept failing, and you weren't there to guide me, like you always did. But we both now know I would have failed regardless. That our ideology was never sustainable. It wasn't easy to accept, was it?"

Orochimaru sat there, not removing their gaze from the man, as if trying to decipher whether what he said was actually true. Snake eyes unfortunately showed very little emotion and so did the little smile the spy grew accustomed to always keeping on his face. They had no reason to believe him, yet, the words he said were so sweet and comforting, so soothing to their tortured soul, they could only wish they were true. No word escaped their lips as they looked away.

"It's okay," Kabuto smiled, now an actual, real gentle smile."I was alone and hurt. It's always less painful to blame the dead for your shortcomings."

Orochimaru leaned in, looming over Kabuto like a predatory animal. Their eyes locked onto his gaze, searching for the emotions they had felt years ago, but there was no trace of that grief and hatred in the yellow pupils. They sighed suddenly and with a swift movement got off their partner, sitting down on the edge of the bed instead.

"So all those years I was once again just haunted by delusions." They said, their voice filled with poisonous pain. " Seems like I can't escape this fate."

Kabuto sighed as he looked at Orochimaru's back.

"Why would you care?"

"I already said it today." They smiled

"I want to hear it again. Tell me. "

Orochimaru smiled softly, nodding.

"I'm not the one to admit to weakness. But I can't deny that I care for you. That I have love for you."

[crimsonizedangel]

Sparks Fly

Pairing: Will Halstead x oc

Rating: nsfw

Summary: oc invites Will to be her plus one at a wedding where they share a heated kiss that leads to them going back to oc’s apartment together.

Warning: lots of dirty talk, oral, p in v, voyeurism (sex against a window), light chocking

AN: I hope you enjoy the story. If you would like a fic about a favorite character in either the one Chicago or Acotar universe you can send me a message.

"Hey Lexi are you ready to go?" I hear Will Halstead ask from my bedroom as I finish up getting my earrings in at the mirror in my bathroom. I had gotten invited to the wedding of a couple friends from college and was so desperate for someone to go with that I ended up asking Will. My friend and colleague at Chicago medical center. But now here we are with my attending standing in my bedroom looking like a snack in the black dress pants and dress shirt that he picked out. At least it goes with the black dress I picked out for myself.

"Yeah, just need to spritz some perfume and I'll be ready to go." I tell him as I make eye contact with him in the mirror before grabbing the bottle of Burberry perfume from the counter and giving it a couple spritzes.

"I should have known you'd still be getting ready. You're still the same as you were in med school when I went out to clubs with you." He comments making me roll my eyes. Yes he's my attending and we were in med school at the same time only because he's a couple years older. However he was my friend before we ended up working at the same hospital and since I am not doing the greatest in the whole love department area I was lucky that Will agreed to attend this wedding with me.

"Let's go." I tell him as I grab his arm to escort him towards the door where I grab my clutch and the card. Once in his car it doesn't take long to get to the venue. The ceremony was short and sweet with what seemed to be only close friends and family in attendance.

"Congrats you two. It was a beautiful wedding." I tell my friend Emma as I greet her with a big smile and a hug. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you. And thank you for coming." She smiles back. The exchange ends up being quick but sweet as I didn't want to keep her from her other guests. I find Will waiting not far away with two glasses of Riesling in his hands.

"You still remember my favorite wine?" I ask him as we walk over to one of the high top tables being used for cocktail hour. He hands me one of the glasses as I sit on a stool.

"Of course I still remember. How could I possibly forget when you had me stop and get a bottle before one of our study sessions." He laughs as he casually leans against the table turning his body towards me and leaving very little space between us.

"That was one time." I huff out. "And you have to admit it helped both of us focus better and make learning about cells a lot more interesting."

Will chuckles "yeah I do have to agree with that."

———

We continued to chat as we were told to take our seats for dinner followed by the couples first dance. The second that everyone was allowed on the dance floor I dragged Will out to the dance floor. The song that had come on was a fast Shakira song and I had no faith that Will knew how to salsa but I wasn't about to dance by myself. However he surprised me by placing a hand on my hip and clasping my hand in his other and moving his feet and hips to the beat.

"You surprise me Halstead. I didn't take you for someone who even knew how to dance." I tell him in awe as I start moving my own hips and feet following his lead.

On beat with the end of the song he gave me a spin and pulled me in close so my back was flush with his chest. "Well Lex I guess you don't know everything about me." His voice rough as he speaks into my ear making my heart race.

"Yeah I guess not." Is all I can reply as the song switches to a slow romantic song. "Dance with me." I say as I spin back around and wrap my arms around his neck. His own arms slipped around my waist holding me close to him as we start to sway to the music. "What else don't I know about you Halstead besides you being a good dancer?" I ask him.

I keep my eyes on his as I watch him contemplate what he wants to say next. Or I should say what he wanted to do next. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he brings a hand up to cup my cheek before lowering his gaze to my mouth. Like magnets being drawn together our lips connect in a kiss like no other. It started slow like we were both testing the waters before heating up. Wills tongue ran over my lips briefly before I opened my mouth letting him in. The kiss probably only lasted a few minutes but it felt like longer when we finally pulled away from each other.

"You kissed me." The words barely above a whisper and almost breathless.

"I did and you kissed me back." His words just as breathless but with a little chuckle behind them.

It takes me a moment to realize that it isn't just the two of us and we are still at a wedding before I speak again. "I did kiss you back. Do you want to get out of here?" I ask him. He only nods before he's leading me out of the ballroom and towards the parking lot.

Once we get into his car I turn to him and ask "why did you kiss me? We've known each other for years so what made you finally do it?"

"I'm not sure why I finally did it. I just felt like I needed to because I didn't know if I would get presented with another opportunity to." He tells me as he turns his head to look at me. "Look Lexi I've had a crush on you since we were just study buddies and I've wanted to say something back then but it seemed one of us was always in a relationship and the timing wasn't right. Tonight however we're both single which is why I knew I just needed to either say or do something to show you how I felt."

When he finally got what he needed to off his chest my eyes met his and I knew he meant every word. "Will I had a crush on you back then too. When you kissed me tonight I knew those feelings hadn't gone away." And instead of trying to figure out the words needed to describe what I felt I grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him closer to me so I could kiss him again. It was almost instant that he started kissing me back and we stayed that way for awhile. As soon as my hands started undoing the buttons on his shirt he pulled away resting his forehead against mine and was breathing hard. He clasped my hands in his to stop them from the task they were doing.

"Lex as much as I would love for you to continue with undressing me and all that I'm not having sex with you for the first time in the parking lot of a ballroom like we're some kids at our high school prom." Once he catches his breath he leans back in his seat before starting his car and driving us back to my apartment.

As soon as we're parked he moves rather quickly to cut off the engine and get out so he could open my door for me and help me out. I fish my keys out of my clutch as he wraps an arm around my shoulders to lead me to my building and towards the elevator. Once we are safely inside the elevator his lips are back on mine and as I'm working on unbuttoning his shirt again he starts kissing my jaw and neck. We only pull away when we hear the ding indicating we have reached my floor and I practically drag him down the hall to my apartment door where once inside my clutch and keys are quickly discarded on the table.

When our lips finally meet again it's a bit of madness as our hands start roaming over each other and clothes are getting discarded left and right as he keeps backing me up until my back hits the giant window wall in my living room. Here we are naked, in my living room, up against a giant window, and with a trail of clothes from my front door as evidence.

He starts kissing down my body stopping to pay attention to my tits. Taking one nipple in his mouth as he plays with the other and then switching to suck on the other as he plays with the one that was just in his mouth. When it seemed that he was satisfied with how much attention he had given both of my nipples he continued kissing down my body until he was kneeling in front of me. Instead of putting his mouth on me he slid a finger between my folds first.

"Fuck you're so wet already." Will mutters "are you sure this is what you want? We can stop if you don't want to do this."

He's looking up at me from his knees and seeing him like that plus him asking for consent turns me on even more than I already was. "Will I'm positive that I want to do this now do something. I don't care if it's your fingers, mouth, cock, I don't care but touch me. Fuck me." I plead. God I sound so needy.

"Good to know." He says as he kisses my thigh as he puts it over his shoulder. His mouth descends on me as he takes my clit into his mouth sucking on it. As he goes between moving his tongue up and down my folds and sucking on my clit I start to let out moans. My hands drop to his head. My fingers get tangled in his red hair holding him to me as I arch my back against the window and move my hips on his face. I feel his hands move to grab my ass and feel the vibrations from his own moans.

"Will." I moan out his name. "Will I'm going to come." I warn him as he continues his ministrations not even letting up for air until I'm coming over his face.

I watch as he lowers my leg and move his face away until I am able to see it glisten with my come. Will stands up and cups my face in his hand "Lexi you taste so good. I could stay between those legs all day. Have you ever tasted yourself before?" He asks and when I shake my head he lowers his mouth and speaks against my lips "have a taste." He tells me right before he closes the gap and I'm able to taste my come on his lips and tongue. The kiss doesn't last long but from how he pushed into me I could feel his erection on my hip.

"Turn around and place your hands on the window. I need to find my pants and grab a condom. Don't move." He commands and for some reason I do as he says. I turn around and place my hands on the glass as I hear him opening up a condom wrapper. “Stick your ass out more.” His voice still commanding and his hands coming to guide my hips to where he wants me. He rubs the tip of his now condom covered cock through my slick folds a couple of times before he lines himself up and starts to sink into me. “Fuck your tight.” He groans as he stills his hips behind me for a moment before sinking in the rest of the way. When he’s all the way in and doesn’t move his hips I decide to take matters into my own hands- or rather hips- and move myself up and down on his cock.

“Oh fuck. Yes baby girl. Go ahead and fuck yourself on my cock.” He groans from behind me. It seems he lets me have control for a moment letting me move my hips and use his cock for my own pleasure. That is until he grabs my hips tight to hold them still so he can regain control and thrust his hips into mine.

Theres a few ways I thought this night would end but being fucked from behind up against my window where anyone could look up and see was not one of them. Especially being fucked by Will Halstead but here we are and I’m loving every moment of it. As he starts to thrust into me harder I become a moaning mess. He wraps an arm around my chest to pull me up to his chest and uses the other hand to wrap around my throat before pushing me forward so my breasts are pressed up against the glass. Will must notice how I became wetter from those movements and the thought of anyone looking up and being able to see everything that we’re doing.

“You just got tighter and wetter. Does it turn you on being fucked up against the window?” He breathes into my ear.

“Yes.” I moan back in response letting my head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Who would have thought that this is something that you’re into.” He moans into my neck before resuming to his quick, deep thrusts and kissing and sucking marks into my neck and shoulder.

“Will.” I moan out. “I-Im going to come.” I warn as I feel the pressure building in my abdomen.

“Be a good girl and come on my cock.” Will commands and tightens his hold on my neck a little causing me to fall apart and squirt all over him. My eyes roll back right before I feel his pace stutter.

“Fuck Lex I can barely move. You’re like a vice around my cock.” He moans into my neck and I feel his hips still as he comes into the condom.

We’re both breathing hard as he has his arms wrapped around me holding me in a tight embrace. As he pulls out of me he helps me over to my couch as my legs wobble. I watch through half lidded eyes as he takes off the condom and disposes of it and comes back with two glasses of water.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep on me. Do you want to stay out here or do you want me to carry you to your bed?” He asks as he hands me a glass.

“I think the bed would be better for both of us.” I tell him after taking a few gulps of the water.

“Sounds good.” He smiles at me and after drinking some of his own water he pulls me into his arms and carries me down the hall to my bedroom. It surprises me how gentle he is as he lays me down and pulls the blankets over me before crawling into the bed behind me. It’s almost comforting having his arms around me, his chest pressed against my back, and the kisses he gently places on my shoulder and up to my cheek.

“Goodnight Lex.” He murmurs.

“Goodnight Will.”