#none of your ships are free from sin

[littlefreya]

Summary: Whatever madness drove this woman to board a pirate’s ship of her own free will was beyond comprehension. Yet there she was, in velvet and silk, marching toward certain danger and the sinful desires of the monstrous Captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

****

Chapter Two

[insomnya777]

Hello! First I want to say I adore your boat boys super power AU so much, it’s currently rotating at light speed in my brain like a broken microwave. I think I’ve read at least six times all the way through with what you have, it’s fantastic!

I was also wondering if you had any other recs or personal favorites for boat boys fics, or just fics in general, I’m always looking for recommendations and wonderful authors usually also have great tastes in other fics as well! Thank you for what you do for the boat boy and smalletho community, you’re keeping us well fed lol

Oh my god I have many many recommendations!!!! I've actually been waiting for someone to ask me this LOL

Completed:

Settled is one of my favourites of all-time. If you read it you'll see the long ass comment I left on it lol. Description: A five plus one type of fic where Etho struggles to voice his feeling about double-life, and Joel is there to make it harder.

BIR Universe is a classic, a staple, even. One of the most iconic series of all time. Description: A very messy college universe with a bunch of hermitcraft/life series members.

Somehow, I always end up back in Marianas Trench is another personal favourite. I reread it way too often. The writing is incredible in this one + has a side of ranchers and impdubs. Description: AU where our three favourite soulbound couples go on a triple date! Except it's not a date, all of them broke up sometime before or during their last year of college and none of them are over each other.

Holy Father, judge my sins is so, so good. Anything by giddyfenix always is, I think I've read, like, all of their works. Description: Joel and Etho as the seven deadly sins. After all, what were they if not corrupted?

I Don't Smoke (Except for When I'm Missing You) made my heart break a million times over. I actually cannot read this fic without breaking down. It is a clockers-centered fic, exploring the Etho-Scar relationship, but I had to include it because it's just one of my favourite fics of all time. Description: A look into Etho's perspective on the life he and Scar share. They're not so different, you know? They both like to run away.

Works In Progress:

to all the ships at sea is another personal favourite, because the writing is just so, so good. There are currently six chapters out! Description: Etho has a job as part of the crew manning a lighthouse on a small island. With Cleo and Bdubs gone for a few weeks, Etho settles in to keep the Light running single-handedly. He wasn't expecting his life to be turned upside-down when a visitor turns up on the island, completely out of the blue...and he definitely wasn't expecting to develop feelings for the mysterious young man.

Good Luck, Babe is also very, very good. There are seven chapters out right now! Description: Etho couldn't get himself to turn Joel down. Even when Joel has made it clear time and time again that he had no problem doing the same to him. The lengths he was willing to go for a guy who would barely even let them be seen together in public...

hi, etho is super cute, too. I read it a while ago, and it's still one of my favourites, so do what you will with that. Description: About a month after going missing and having no memories to show for it, Etho gets a weird letter from a strange, anonymous sender who might have the answers to his questions.

And that's about it!! If anyone has more recommendations feel free to comment or leave in the tags because I'm always looking for more fics LOL <3

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Sin

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 4.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: Fighting, betrayal, angst, violence/injuries, Mando being a father

------

A Mandalorian, an infant creature, and a teenage girl from Tatooine. No one had expected the three to meet and be the bounties the hunter was delivering to. The ship owned by the bounty hunter exits hyperspace over Nevarro. He had to admit whatever the kid did had improved the speed of being in hyperspace, the travel being cut down. The sound of a call from the hologram is Greef, “Mando. I've received your transmission. Wonderful news. Upon your return, deliver the quarry directly to the client. I have no idea if he wants to eat it or hang it on his wall, but he's very antsy. Safe passage! You know where to find me.” The transmission ends leaving the Mandalorian in silence, he turns to see you still asleep before he hears a cooing noise. Looking back to see the small child playing with a ball from one of the levers.

Mando reaches over grabbing it as it makes a sound of sadness, “It’s not a toy.” He places the ball back onto the level the child staring at it as he takes the ship down to the planet below.

The shaking of the ship wakes you from a dreamless sleep you rub the sleep off your face seeing Mando flipping switches and shutting off the ship, “Where are we?” You mumble letting out a yawn and stretching your arms out. He stands up heading towards the ladder,

“We’re on Nevarro.” The name of the planet was one you weren’t familiar with, you hardly knew the planets in your systems. You follow down below the child’s carrier floating behind you as you enter the cargo hold. Mando presses a button along the wall and the ramp of the ship goes down. The black sands are the first thing you notice the smell of fire deep in the air but no one seemed bothered by it. You follow behind Mando trailing slightly taking in everything, you felt like a child born into the world. Nothing looked familiar to you and the people around you none you’d ever seen.

“So what are we doing here? Getting more supplies before we travel to Tatooine?” You ask running up beside him as he stays silent the people around him moving out of the way just by his presence. He turns down an alley which you have to stop and follow with how quickly he turned and disappeared down it, but you could see the wisp of his cape. Finding him standing outside a building the child in his carrier beside him. “So is this your place or somewhere we’re staying?” You say looking around the alleyway seemed like no one came around here which was weird.

A small hole opens beside the door and a droid pokes through, Mando holds up a disc and a red light from its eye scans it. It makes a noise of confirmation retracting back. A few seconds passed confusing you why the doors didn’t just open when they open revealing two stormtroopers, their armor scuffed and dirty. You instantly take a step back your eyes widening seeing people apart of the empire. A hand stops you from moving farther back and you look up at Mando seeing he was the one to stop you.

“Mando what are you doing with…” Your voice trails off as it hits you and he could tell you noticed. You push off him trying to grab the child and run off when strong hands from one of the troopers grab you pushing you inside the building the other roughly yanks the cradle.

“Easy with that,” Mando says looking at the trooper handling the child glancing back and seeing the other slamming you against the wall pinning your hands behind your back as you struggle to break free.

“You take it easy.” The trooper replies before they lead them all further into the safe house. You enter a larger room where you see an older man seated at a table with another man dressed in an imperial uniform standing beside him. You slam your head back against the trooper's helmet it letting out a shout as you push off him your hands grabbing his blaster and pointing it at the traitor the sound of weapons cocking aimed at you.

“You lying bastard!” You shout at the Mandalorian and your anger boils more unable to tell the emotion hidden behind his helmet. Did he even feel guilty?! “Should’ve killed you when I had the chance!” You shout out as he doesn’t even pull out his weapon just looking at you. The troopers around you shout at you to put the blaster down. Electricity rushes through your body as you crumble to your knees the weapon falling from your hands. Two troopers rush for you one kicking away the blaster as they pull you two your feet your body crying out in pain and numbness.

“A feisty one she is.” The older man says looking over you making you cringe in disgust. You spit at his feet and one of the troopers kicks you to your knees.

“Don’t hurt her!” The younger man says holding his hand out, he comes over and you glare at him struggling in their grasp as he pulls out a device. It pricks your neck before shining a bright red. He nods before moving over to the child.

“You touch him and I’ll rip your arms off.” You hiss out fighting in the two troopers’ grasp as the man looks at you for a second before pricking the child a cry comes from it before the device glows red as well.

“They’re health…very healthy.” The man says and the other man nods.

“Your reputation was not unwarranted.” He says while Mando looks over the two of you.

“How many fobs did you give out?” He asks and the man laughs,

“These assets were of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure their delivery” He pulls out a container placing it on the table, “But to the winner…go the spoils.” He opens the container revealing several bars of beskar. You were sold off for metal. The older man waves his hand out, “Take these two, Dr. Pershing I’m sure you’re pleased.” The doctor nods pushing the carrier holding the child off into another room as the two troopers start pulling you out of the room though you fight.

“You lying bastard! You’re no Mandalorian! I swear you’re dead to me!” You spit venom with your word as your shouts are muffled behind the closed door before it fades. The Mandalorian looks away from the door trying to get those words out of his head.

“What are your plans for them?” He speaks out and the client looks at him surprised.

“How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation, You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are forgotten?” He asks the silent bounty hunter before closing up the container of beskar and pushing it towards him, “That beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” Leaving the building with a case of beskar he can’t deny the tense feeling in his chest.

The Nevarro cantina is filled with music and drinking but mainly people drinking away their lost bounty when the person that stole their reward away entered. Silence fills as he slowly enters the glares and whispers directed toward him as he stands in front of Greef. “Ah, Mando! They all hate you Mando because you’re a legend.” He greets him as the bounty hunter looks around at the glares pointed at him.

“How many of them had tracking fobs?” He asks and Greef laughs taking a sip from his drink.

“All of them! All of them! But none of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you. And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. Please sit, my friend.” He cheers him waving him to sit but the hunter hesitates his hand resting on his blaster, the armor he wore freshly made beskar from the Mandalorians, “They're all weighing the Beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, I celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well. Hell! Even I am rich. Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?” Greef asks his most valued hunter as he sits down taking his hand off his blaster.

“I want my next job.” He says surprising Greef, “ Next job? Take some time off. Enjoy yourself. I'll take you to the Twi'lek healing baths.” He suggest but the bounty hunter was adamant.

“I want my next job.”

“Sure. Fine. You hunters like to keep busy, right?” Greef says pulling out the multiple pucks and looking over them, “Well, these are all far away.”

“The further, the better,” Mando says wanting to get off this planet already

“Well, take your pick. You've earned it,” He says as Mando looks over the details for each puck before grabbing one, “Ah. That's the best one of the lot. A nobleman's son skipped bail. Looks like you're headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.”

“Any idea what they're gonna do with it?” Mando asks his question not involving the nobleman’s son.

“With what?” “The kids.”

Greef shrugs taking a sip from his drink, “I didn't ask. It's against the Guild Code.”

“They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?” Mando pushes and Greef looks at the bounty hunter.

“The Empire is gone, Mando. All that is left are mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic.” Mando scoffs looking away

“That's a joke.” He stands up heading for the door

The guild member looks at the bounty hunter, “Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperdrive, you will have forgotten all about it.”

The empty ship echos his movement and his thoughts as he straps into his seat preparing for takeoff reaching for a lever seeing the ball on it gone, he looks back seeing it resting on the seat. Grabbing it he screws it back to the lever. In hyperspace, it will all be forgotten.

‘You’re no Mandalorian.’

Your words ring in his head as he looks over to where you sat before looking forward his hands on the controls to take off. His hands move across the board the sound of the engine humming off as the ship settles and he stands heading off the ship back into the town.

You were brought into the room by the troopers and the doctor when they strapped you down onto the table. You struggle in your restraints trying to break free. Pershing comes over with a needle making you panic and fight more into your restraints. The snap of one restraint has his eyes widening and the two troopers come over holding you down as the needle presses into your arm and you watch as your blood comes out of your body filling into small vials. You felt weak after multiple vials were taken and the straps are taken off you. The two troopers grab you by the arms dragging you out as you fail to stand throwing you into an empty storage room. You barely catch yourself from smacking into the ground before the door closes behind you locking and shrouding you in darkness. Pushing yourself to your knees and sitting against the wall you take deep breaths trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

What did the empire want with you? Had they figured it out and that’s why Mando went after you? The thought of the bounty hunter made anger flood through your veins. He betrayed you…he left you for dead with the empire...and the child. You quickly wipe the tears that flood your eyes. You had to stay strong..you needed to fight back. You had to get out of here..you and the child.

The darkness is calming nothing but the sound of your breathing is what you can hear. A rumble shakes the room the sound far off in the distance making you hold your breath to listen. It’s quiet before another rumble and then you hear the sound of blasters. You stand up hearing the sound of shouts and gunfire before it grows quiet again. The sound of footsteps grows close to the door and you press against the wall beside the door as the door opens and light floods the room. You see a single trooper enter the room their blaster ready and you strike. You kick the back of his knee sending him crashing against the ground his blaster sliding across the room. You rush towards it when a hand latches onto your leg tripping you and you hit the ground. A cry escapes your mouth feeling your ankle twist in the wrong direction. You’re flipped over as the trooper pins you down as you try to break free his hands wrap around your throat trying to knock you out. You grab his wrists trying to pry them off looking up the blaster was just within your reach. Your hand reaches out trying to grab the blaster your fingers just brushing it when the pressure on your neck grows tighter. You bring your hand back using both of them to try to get the man off of you. Glancing up the blaster was just a hair away, you reach forward your fingers scraping it making it spin on the floor moving further away before your hand returns to the other around your neck. You could feel your body growing weak the spots of black painting your vision. Your hand grasps out begging for the weapon. The weapon slides into your hand and you swing it out hitting him against the head with it. You scramble back as he looks at you lunging towards you. Your finger presses against the trigger hitting him point-blank in the chest dropping dead.

You gasp pushing yourself against the corner, “Hey what’s taking long we have to-” The sound of a new trooper enters the room, and you pull the trigger again hitting him in the leg he cries out in pain hitting the ground. You scramble to stand and when he tries to grab his blaster you fire again and he stills. Your hands shake holding the blaster. You’ve never killed someone before, sure animals when hunting but never a person before. This person had thoughts, emotions, and life, and you took it away. You felt sick. The sound of more blaster fire makes you stand straight. You had to get out of here. The place felt like a maze as you walk through the halls seeing the aftermath of whatever fight there was, dead stormtroopers lined the halls. Your ankle cries out in pain feeling fire fill it when you put too much pressure on it. You encounter a few but you quickly shot them before they realized it was you and take advantage of your injury. Whoever was attacking this place was on a mission. You had to find the child. You found the laboratory finding it empty with only two troopers there dead. The sound of gunfire sounds loud down one hallway and you felt a sense. The child.

Mando exits the storeroom holding the child only to run into a stormtrooper. He quickly exchanges gunfire letting the bullets bounce off the beskar, shooting the trooper down the second trooper getting burned by his flamethrower. His screams filled the hall as he burns before collapsing to the ground. Turning around to head down the hallway to be at the end of a blaster pointed right between the gaps of his helmet and chest plate. One pull of the trigger and he would be a dead man. What surprised him more was seeing the cold look on your face. Your neck was covered in quickly forming bruises in the shape of hands. He could tell you were keeping pressure off one foot an injury you must have sustained.

“Give me the child and I won’t paint your brains against the wall.” You hiss one hand holding the gun, finger on the trigger the other held out to take the child who coos happily seeing you.

“You don’t understand I came here-” He starts but you cut him off, “Don’t understand that you’re a kriffing traitor? Now give me the child, I won’t ask again.” You demand your finger twitching on the trigger.

“I made a mistake, I’m sorry…you have you believe me. I promise you’ll return to your home.” Mando promises and you look at him still uncertain as you look at the beskar helmet. Your hand twitches your gaze meeting the child in his arms who is looking at you and you sense it, the feeling of trust..to trust him. The sound of a blaster fills the air and Mando stiffens before looking behind him and seeing a stormtrooper with a blaster wound in his chest before he hits the ground. You lower your weapon looking at him.

“Come on let’s go.” You say and he nods leading you through the halls before you enter the same room you arrived in when you first came here. Seeing a doorway leading outside you both moves towards it.

“Freeze! Don’t move.” A group of troopers appears and you all pause in your place, “Hands up. Drop the blaster.” They call out and you sigh dropping the blaster holding your hands up while Mando only holds one hand up.

“Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable.” Mando says as the four troopers circle you cornering you.

“He has the assets, turn and face me.” One of the troopers behind you says as you both turn around, “Now slowly get on your knees,” They order as you both begin to kneel down when you see Mando’s hand move to his wrist. Suddenly bullets that whistle in the air shoot out from his wrist taking out all of the troopers. You look around shocked seeing them all down.

“Come we have to go.” He says helping you to your feet and you wince slightly accidentally putting pressure on your bad foot, “Can you walk?” You nod waving him off and grabbing the blaster you put down.

“Yeah let’s just get off this damn planet.” You say the three of you exiting the imperial compound. You all walk through the streets trying to keep unnoticed in the shadows, you’re glued to Mando’s side using his cape to hide most of the blaster in your hand. You turn down the street right outside the landing zone seeing multiple bounty hunters armed with weapons. A man steps forward looking at Mando and you and the child.

“Welcome back, Mando!” He greets the bounty hunter beside you, did they know each other, “Now put the package down and step away from the other one.” His cheerful voice grows cold quickly and you look at the bounty hunters surrounding you all.

“Step aside. I'm going to my ship.” Mando calls out and the man shakes his head,

“You put the bounty down and perhaps I'll let you pass.” The man speaks about the child and you can see their hands hovering over their own blaster ready for the fight that was going to be inevitable.

“The kids are coming with me,” Mando responds and the man shakes his head.

“If you truly care about the kids, then you'll let them stand by the speeder and we'll discuss terms.” He warns him and you could feel the tension coming off Mando, as he looks at the speeder with an R6 astromech droid ready for the command

“How do I know I can trust you?” Mando calls out and you could see his hand shifting toward his blaster.

“Because I'm your only hope.”

Mando looks down at the child and at you and your jaw drops slightly when he hands the child off to you. You grab it with your one free arm. This couldn’t be happening he wasn’t just giving up, “Mando…” His blaster comes into his hand with a flick of his wrist he shoots one of the bounty hunters, and you feel the ground disappear underneath you as Mando rushes jumping onto the speeder carrying luggage.

“Drive. Drive!” Mando shouts out and the droid drives off. You’re quickly put down hidden behind the crates as he exchanges fire with his fellow bounty members. The sound of the blaster hitting close to you makes you jump and you see the droid fizzling its head blown off. The vehicle comes to a screeching halt sending you sliding. You hiss feeling the pain in your foot grow more painful. The bounty hunters draw in firing at the Mandalorian as he pulls his rifle off his back and he hits two hunters incinerating them.

“That's one impressive weapon!” The man that knew Mando yells out from where he was hiding.

“Here's what I'll do. I'm gonna walk to my ship with the kids and you're gonna let it happen.” Mando shouts out hidden behind one of the crates quickly shooting down a bounty hunter that tries getting a surprise attack.

“No. How about this? We take the kids, and if you try to stop us, we kill you and we strip your body for parts.” The man shouts back and the fighting continues, looking down at the child in your arms you place it down grabbing the blaster before coming up and firing out at some of the bounty hunters. You hit one of the bounty hunters letting out a cheer when pain spreads across your arm. A scream rips from your throat as you drop your blaster falling back in the speeder grabbing your arm where the bullet grazed your skin, the flesh burned from the ray. Mando looks back at you seeing you hit firing back with more urgency.

“Don't hit the target!” The man calls out seeing you get hit. You hiss in pain the cool air brushing against your wound, the blood pouring down your arm. As the bounty hunters grow closer Mando holds out his arm flames pouring out as they scream in pain burning before it runs out. You look up fear and tears brimming your eyes, was it over? He looks at you and the child before reloading his weapon and preparing for his final stand.

As you prepare for the end a large barrage of blasts comes from the air, looking up you see people donning jetpacks shooting at the bounty hunters. Your eye widens seeing the familiar helmets on them. They were Mandalorians!

One of the Mandalorians hovers over you three firing down at the bounty hunters, “Get out of here! We'll hold them off!”

“You're going to have to relocate the covert,” Mando calls out knowing the punishment of involving the Mandalorians.

“This is the Way.” He responds and all the Mandalorians including yours repeat it back in unison, “This the Way.”

He nods as the male Mandalorian takes off fighting them as he looks down at you and the child. Your arm was still bleeding and the child just looked frightened. “Come on we have to go!” He jumps off the speeder grabs the child and you jump over the side almost falling to the ground if Mando didn’t grab you. You shake your head trying to keep the pain in.

“I can’t...my foot.” You say your voice trembling and he looks around before handing you the child again and scooping you up holding you in his arms. You hold the child close to your chest your other hand wrapped around his neck. Rushing through the fighting running into bounty hunters but they are put down by Mandalorians. Seeing the ship ahead he brings the ramp down bringing you on when you hear the cocking of a blaster. Mando turns you and the child still in his arms seeing Greef pointing a blaster at you all.

“Hold it, Mando. I didn't want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.” He says shaking his head almost disappointed in the hunter. Mando feels cornered when a blaster bolt hits Greef right in the chest. Sending him staggering toward the edge of the ramp. He looks down seeing you holding his blaster before you push your hand out and Greef is sent flying off the ship ramp rolling on the ground. Mando looks at you surprised hidden by his mask before he carries the two of you onto the ship bringing you to the cockpit and quickly taking off. The sound of blasters hitting the ship being protected by the shields as the Mandalorians provide cover fire. Sitting in your chair you see out the window the Mandalorian that spoke to you all salute Mando before flying off.

“I gotta get one of those.” Mando huffs before leaving the atmosphere. The child resting in his lap the other seated on their chair, he looks down at the kid reaching for the ball on the lever. He reaches over unscrewing it handing it to the happy child. The vast space to go off to now an enemy of the guild…the thoughts of the things he’s seen both of these kids do in his head. The kid with the mudhorn and you with Greef. They needed to lay low before he could begin to think more of it.

[milayawr]

Stolen Pieces

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: The reader has to steal for her debts, and the victim of her last theft isn't happy about it.

Warnings: Mentions of Pekka Rollins and death.

Word Count: 1,340

Notes: I'm not sure about it but here we go.

+ I decided to use "you" instead of "she/her" and it's a big change for me but i'll do it anyways.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was a tough decision but you made it years ago when your mother died. You didn't have time to think back then, you just had to. Every weekend, you went to pray for your sins to be forgiven. Stealing was a sin and you had become a sinner. You were living with the need of being forgiven. No one would forgive you if they knew you were the one who stole their important belongings.

But you needed the money as much as you needed forgiveness. Your mother died with debts and after her death, they were all over you. You inherited the debts. Pekka Rollins would kill her if you won't pay all of them.

It was nearly done, your freedom was so close. You could feel it on your fingertips. But it was also hard to do. You had to steal ten thousand kruge in five days. Five days till your freedom or death.

You've made a deal four years ago. You will pay your mother's debts and be free. If you can't pay off all of them before your twentieth birthday, Pekka will kill you.

Pekka had many enemies, and none of them could finish him. He was dangerous as hell.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall. Your breath got stuck in your lungs because of how fast you ran. You continued to run until you were certain that you had distanced yourself from the port. Maybe it was a big mistake to steal the most known pirate's money, but it was more than enough to close the debts of your dead mother.

Your mother had you when she was really young. You knew that you were a whole mistake, but your mother had shown you love. She got into debt to feed you, give you a safe house, and help you, her daughter, grow up less pathetic than you were meant to be. You had to close the debts.

The streets were empty and dark. You trusted the darkness more than anyone else because it was easy to steal when it was dead of the night. You hated every second of it and would hate every moment of your future life— if only there would be such a thing.

You checked the bag that was hiding the money. All of them were there. More than ten thousand kruge. You couldn't hide her happiness. You pressed the bag to your chest as you tried to push back your tears. You didn't cry but wanted to cry like a newborn babe cries for the love of a mother. When it's all done, you will spend your whole life praying and seeking the forgiveness of the saints. For four years, you had nothing to do but steal. After all of it, you will be free to seek forgiveness.

The darkness that surrounded her became heavier as you started to walk. You felt her heartbeat get slower, and it scared you. Your eyes were heavier than the darkness, and then you fell into someone's arms. The strong arms of a man started to carry you. Step after step, your sight became darker, and finally, your mind went away for a dreamless sleep.

———

Sounds of wood filled your ears. As your consciousness came back, you kept your eyes closed. You wanted to figure out who had kidnapped you. Someone was walking around. The sound of wood was strange yet familiar to you. You couldn't understand how many people were there. Only the footsteps of someone were loud and clear.

"She's awake." Said a female voice. You started to open your eyes and waited for a headache, but there was nothing but blankness. You couldn't remember how you got here.

"Well, well," this time, the voice belonged to a male. You saw him standing, so you thought it was his footsteps that were torturing the wooden floor of the ship.

The ship.

The realization hit you hard in the face. You were on the ship of the famous Sturmhond. They've managed to catch you and will probably kill you. It was really a mistake to steal from him. Now he will throw you away to the sea and watch the creatures of the sea eat and torture you and laugh while you die.

Pekka sounded very nice after all.

"I am sorry," you stated as you panicked. You couldn't even choose the words that left your mouth.

"So she knows her mistake," Sturmhond said. "Very well." His foot carried him closer to you. Every step of his took a second from your life. "Tolya, Tamar, you can leave us. I have to deal with this beautiful thief that came out of the blue."

They left without any words. Your stomach was against you and started to turn up and down. You were going to throw up because of how you were scared at the moment. "You took your money back, I assume."

"You assume the right thing."

"So I can go now. You know, you took it back and now it is my turn to go."

"No, I don't know, actually." He stepped closer and closer to you. Your eyes sought a sword or anything that could kill you in a second, but there was nothing. Just him and you and the bed you were sitting on. "I want to understand something first. Why would a girl like you steal my money?"

"Maybe because I need it?" You regretted those words, but it was too late. Words hung on the air while regret put an ashy taste to your mouth.

Your soul nearly left your body when you heard a laugh from him. "Yeah, I get that, obviously. But why do you need it?"

You didn't want to tell him about your mother's debts. It was too embarrassing for you. You weren't ashamed of your mother; on the contrary, you were ashamed of yourself. You could have a proper job and have money. But the jobs that were offered to you were not appropriate at all.

"I—" You hesitated, but he waited for you to respond patiently. "I have debts." You cut it short and avoided telling the details to a famous stranger.

Sturmhond just studied you. His eyes observed your face and your expressions closely. "You are stealing for your debts," He said. "Why aren't you finding an easier way?"

Your fear of death changed itself to another thing. Your eyes were filled with anxiety and you were trembling. You pulled yourself back as possible.

"No, you got me wrong," He declared when he saw the sudden change in you. "I meant to offer you a job here, and in exchange, I would pay off all of your outstanding debts. It's not a job in the way that you're thinking."

"Why?" You asked because you knew no good was for free. Why would he want a thief to work with him?

"Because I'm impressed, that's it." He threw the money bag into the air and caught it again. "I want you to work for me and I'll pay your debts. Deal?"

You ignored him to think for a while. It was a great opportunity, but you didn't know if he was serious. What if he was tricking you into some trap? What if he was just trying to give you hope and then kill you with those empty words? You weren't sure about it, but your life was close to the end anyways. There was no way to find ten thousand kruge in five days again. You had the chance, but the chance had turned its face against you.

You had fallen into gambling between Pekka and Sturmhond, and you had to choose one. Pekka would kill you anyways because you lost the money you had. Sturmhond would probably kill you because the money you stole was his. It could be a trap but... You had to choose one of the paths.

So, you decided to play with your unfortunate fate. "Deal."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Part Two

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (21/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 2271

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Arianwyn meets Aemond in the Godswood.

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk

Author's Note: This chapter has some of the first writing I ever did for this fic! The last chapter had a couple lines, but this is where Aemond and Aria's (I really need an official ship name for them) story began. I had to make some changes, as the plot did evolve on its own once I started from the beginning, but the spirit of my initial burst of inspiration is still here.

Beneath the Weirwood Tree

“Marry me.”

Arianwyn’s heart stopped.

“What did you say?” she asked, the question hardly louder than a sigh.

Aemond swallowed and dropped her chin. Flustered, he turned his rapidly blinking eye away from her as he tried to compose himself.

Years ago, in this very spot, she had told him how she feared being married. How she did not want to return to a strange castle with a strange man – a man who may mistreat her.

He knew now that was not all she feared.

She was afraid she would meet the same fate as her mother. Rhea Royce had married a strange man, and it cost her not only her happiness and reputation, but her life.

Throughout their childhood, Aemond had always thought that Arianwyn’s love of legends and fairy tales came from the sincere, romantic belief that her life would be as full of magic and wonder as the stories they read. After all, she had taken to calling herself the “girl in the tower” when she was first confined on Dragonstone. But all along, she had been reading for the same reason as him: to escape from the confines of their grim realities, if even for a moment.

For the precious minutes they spent reading those hallowed words, Aemond was not a forgotten second son whose fate was limited to playing a small part in the grand tales of his more important siblings, but a valiant prince destined for greatness. He was not the sinister one-eyed monster he knew the court and smallfolk thought him to be, but an honorable knight who desired only peace – for his people, for himself, and for his princess.

In the world of their stories, Arianwyn was not a child borne of hatred, eternally haunted by the sins of her father, but the noble daughter of two ancient bloodlines fated to rule her people with kindness and grace. She was not a powerless girl locked in a tower, living in dread of what her future would bring, but a woman able to determine her own fate, and find her true love.

Arianwyn deserved her fairy tale. And though Aemond knew he could not give it to her, he could at least free her from Daemon’s grasp.

He turned back to her. “If you marry me, you will no longer belong to your father.”

“I would belong to you,” Her face was twisted with confusion as her heart resumed its hammering. But it didn’t feel like rage. Her pulse raced, yes, but it carried an exhilarating chill through her body.

Yes,” Aemond breathed, “but I could never command you, Aria. I would never even try. You know that. In all the ways that truly matter, you would be free.”

His face was as open as she had ever seen, his beautiful eye almost pleading, and she knew he didn’t just want this for her.

But now was not the time to confront that look or what it meant. Her mind was racing too fast to acknowledge that her blood was singing in response to his words.

“You would do that for me?” she asked. A Prince’s hand in marriage was one of the most powerful diplomatic tools the Crown had. To marry in secret could have consequences that rippled all the way across the Narrow Sea, not to mention how Daemon would react.

He looked almost hurt that she would ask. Again, he enveloped her hand with his, bringing the other up to brush the tears from her cheeks.

“I would do anything for you, Arianwyn,” he whispered.

The urge to kiss him nearly overwhelmed her. But she summoned all her remaining strength to hold herself back. If his plan worked, she would have the rest of their lives to kiss him as much as she wanted.

Squeezing his hand, she gave her answer. “Then I will happily marry you, Prince Aemond.”

Raising a prayer of thanks to each face of the Seven, Aemond pulled Arianwyn into his chest in an embrace so tight he was sure she would feel his heart pounding. But he did not care. Every wish he had ever made was about to come true.

“My Prince?” Ser Criston’s voice broke them apart. Thankfully, the Kingsguard ignored the impropriety of their embrace, only concerned with their safety. “Is the Lady alright?”

“I’m perfectly well,” she replied, “thank you, Ser.”

Again, she had forgotten the twin trails of blood running down her throat and the beginnings of bruises lining her jaw. But Aemond had not.

“Send a man to fetch Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, lacing his fingers through Arianwyn’s protectively. “And another for Brynna Taler. Have them meet us in the Sept. The rest of you will accompany us to Septon Eustace’s chambers.”

Cole glanced at their held hands and the flush on both their faces. “May I ask for what purpose, my Prince?”

Aemond raised his chin as he answered, challenging the knight to object. “The Lady Arianwyn and I are to be married this night.”

Rather than raise any objection or even question why they were doing this in secret, Cole only smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, my Prince. And may I be the first to offer my sincere congratulations.”

“Ser Criston?” Arianwyn called as he turned away to gather the men. “Not the Sept. The Godswood, and the Weirwood tree.”

Aemond looked down at her with a questioning gaze, and she offered him a thoughtful, sweet smile. “I think it would be wise for us to seek the blessing of as many gods as possible, don’t you?”

They would certainly need all the protection they could manage when Daemon found out. Aemond nodded to her, then to Ser Criston. “The Godswood,” he affirmed.

-

By the time they reached Eustace’s door, Aemond and Arianwyn were both gasping for breath. Though they were accompanied by Ser Criston and ten Runestone guards, they still ran through the Keep for fear of Daemon finding them before they had the protection of their vows.

Aemond pounded on the door, fully aware that the old man was likely deep in sleep. After a moment, the Septon emerged, tired and incredulous.

“What could you possibly want from me at this hour, Prince Aemond?” he asked, though his eyes widened with nervousness when he beheld the near dozen guards surrounding them.

“I need you to marry us,” Aemond replied, his grip on Arianwyn’s hand firm. “Now.”

At first, Eustace looked like the victim of an elaborate prank. Though as Aemond explained his plan, his dark eyes gained a grim clarity.

The Septon sighed, fixing the pair before him with a probing gaze. “You realize that to do this without the permission of the King, or Prince Daemon, would put me in mortal danger?”

“We understand,” Arianwyn said, gripping Aemond’s hand as if her life depended on it. “But we wouldn’t ask this of you if we weren’t desperate.”

Eustace looked at their clasped hands and the wounds on Arianwyn’s neck. “Desperate,” where her father was concerned could be equally dangerous as defying the King. With a sigh leaned back into his quarters, pulling his ceremonial robes off their hook.

“We shall require a cloak.”

-

The full moon set the leaves of the Godswood ablaze with silver as the ceremony began. Arianwyn lingered outside the entrance to the Heart Tree courtyard, Orwyle tending to her wounds while Brynna dabbed at the bloodstains on her dress. Aemond stood before the giant Weirwood with Eustace while the Septon recited the traditional prayers.

Was she really doing this? Marrying in secret in the middle of the night? Shackling herself to one man simply to be free of another?

But this wasn’t just any man. She was not being sold to a stranger, some second son she barely knew, or an old man seeking to use her only for her noble womb.

This was Aemond.

The person in the world she knew better than anyone or anything. She had known him almost her whole life. This was a man she had grown up with, played with, and studied with.

They had discovered and chased their passions together. Spending countless hours together, in the library, in her rooms, and in the Dragonpit.

He had been there the first time she rode Emrys, and she when he claimed Vhagar.

When her father ripped her away to Dragonstone, he had written to her every day, even while healing from the loss of his eye.

It was he who had held her and wiped her tears that very night after her father had come so close to killing her.

This was the man she loved, though it had taken her years admit it.

She loved him. With every beat of her heart and breath in her lungs, she loved him.

It had been that love that had kept her alive on Dragonstone. That fed the wild hope that one day she would see him again, and they would be together until the end of their days. Along with his beautiful letters, that hope had sustained her.

But even before they were separated, she had loved him. Why else would she have gone with him to claim Vhagar? What else but love would have made her fool enough to approach such a massive beast? Could anything else have made her heart soar to the heavens themselves when she watched him finally fulfill a lifelong dream?

All her life, Aemond was there. Alicent once told her that when they first met as babes, they had smiled when they saw each other. Had they somehow known, even then, what they were destined for?

Arianwyn felt like a fool for being so blind for so long. Had she known the true identity of her feelings, she would have fought harder for him. She never would have allowed them to be torn apart.

“Bride, approach.” Eustace’s voice ripped her from her thoughts.

Brynna groaned, “But I have not fixed your hair!”

“That’s alright,” Arianwyn said with a smile for her oldest companion. Though this was not how she imagined her wedding, she was exceedingly grateful for Brynna’s presence. “I believe Aemond likes my hair just the way it is.”

With a light kiss to the girl’s forehead, Brynna stepped aside, allowing her to step forward and take Ser Criston Cole’s hand as he led her into the heart of the Godswood.

Arianwyn tried in vain to calm her racing heart as she climbed to the base of the Heart Tree. She wore no veil, so there was nothing to hide her flush as she faced Aemond.

Seeing her nervousness, he reached out a hand to take hers before remembering himself and pulling it back. Eustace spied the movement and smirked as he instructed Aemond, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

It was a borrowed cloak. White, as her bride dress should have been. Ser Criston Cole had offered it without prompting and gave it with his blessing.

Now, Arianwyn gazed into Aemond’s violet eye as he swept the cloak around her shoulders, taking an extra moment to make sure her hair lay just right upon the fabric, the silver curls and white cloak aglow in the light of the full moon. She could find no trace of nervousness on his face, only the slight edge of a smile on his lips. It began to reflect on her own before she could help herself.

Eustace continued. “I stand here in the sight of the gods to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Now with the proper cue, Aemond took her hand, as he had done so many times that night and in all the years before. But this time was different. His hand was so warm against the chill of the air, warmer even than the cloak he had put around her. This time, Arianwyn could not help but notice the way his hand fit perfectly on hers.

The Archmaester began wrapping a ribbon around their joined hands. “Let it be known that Arianwyn of Houses Targaryen and Royce, and Aemond of Houses Targaryen and Hightower are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” A dangerous flash ran through Aemond’s face at the words, though it faded as fast as it appeared.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” Orwyle let the ribbon unwind and fall to the grass below them. “Look upon each other and say the words.”

One violet eye met a shining pair of silver, and Aemond and Arianwyn spoke as one.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine.”

“I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day until the end of my days.”

They were ritual words, spoken by brides and grooms in Westeros for hundreds of years. But still, they had never rung so true as on this night beneath the Heart Tree in the Godswood of Kings.

Arianwyn did not know what the morning would bring. Whether she would remain here or be taken back across the Blackwater against her will. But it did not matter anymore. She looked at the determination and love on her husband’s face, and she was not afraid.

Dragonstone was not her home; of that she was certain. But neither was the Red Keep nor Runestone her home. Not even the library she loved so dearly was her home.

Aemond was.

Next Chapter

[inchling-prince]

I think the meaning of being pro ship has changed in more modern fandom spaces. originally it meant what you explained in the comments of your last post, being anti censorship, or to me it’s like the shipping version of “art is there to disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed” where it should exist in certain media for those who want to feel understood in there experience, but not for a media that it isn’t for. Like, I don’t want to watch a found family kids series only to find out people are shipping the two sibling characters, so I’d DNI it. But in more modern times people are only really calling themselves pro shippers not because there anti censorship, but because they enjoy mostly creepy ships, and then there was the whole “pro” in pro ship means problematic?? I know it’s not I just still find it dumb. But it ended up changing peoples whole vue on what it meant.

Anyway I’m sorry this is a long ask I just wanted to explain that I wouldn’t use the the term even though I’m anti censorship just because I know the term has a very different connotation in modern fandom spaces and that’s what people put a DNI on for

I’m aware of the discourse surrounding the term. Frankly though? I was here first. Proshippers invented the word, it means what we say it means. The other guys have comship or whatever if they want to specify that they ship the more controversial stuff. And even if you are using it to mean “problematic ships” good fucking luck drawing that line. The number of times I’ve seen somebody with a proship DNI shipping something that I went ??? at is pretty high. Like if I had a nickel for every time I saw somebody with a proship DNI shipping some dude with the guy that MURDERED him I would have a frankly alarming amount of nickels. Or like over in Hannibal fandom the primary ship (my ship as a matter of fact) is Hannigram, which is absolutely full of manipulation and violence, but people still want to say “proship DNI”. You’re shipping the problematic ships honey. None of you are free from sin.

And that isn’t even taking into account that when plenty of people say proship DNI, they mean you the person, not the blog with the objectionable content. The number of times somebody blocked me for not having a problem with some other dude is also alarmingly high.

[theluckywizard]

Vintage Smut Fic Prompt List

OR JUST REBLOG AND TAG YOUR DAMN SHIPS 😂

These are erotic fiction titles from the 50s through the 80s. I was researching them for a different project but I have been encouraged to make it a prompt list. RIP all my search algorithms. 100 Titles for your perusal below the cut 👇

Wild Honey

Daughter's Hot Mouthful

The Pleasure Chateau

Office Sex Circus

Some Came Sinning

_______'s Sex Finger

Old School Girl

The Sex Bums

The Sex Persuaders

The Girl Who Writes Dirty Books

The Sex Rebels

Strip Artist

Doctor's Passions

Tales of the Sexy Snake

Wild Spree

Deserving Wife

Training Camp

B-Girl Nympho

Stable Boy

Man Chase

The Lash of Lust

Reckless

Young Widow

The Hayloft

One More for the Road

And Sex is the Payoff

Man Crazy

Secret Lusts

Two Faces of Passion

The Mattress Game

The Skin Tight Sheath

Unnatural Wife

Second Time Woman

The Peeping Neighbors

Lots of Boys!

The Lady Loves It

The Free Lovers

Lurid Lust Charade

Cruel Lips

Dirt Farm

Finishing School

Up and Coming

Boss Man

Wild Hot Housewife

Mother Every Way

The Sweet Smell of Sin

Horny Hot Family

Let's Play Doctor

Lesbo Love-In

Sister's Rope Lust

Weird Passions

Hot Hours

Super-Dick

Letting Herself Go

Wanton Addicts

Hard-Core Love

Another Man's Hell

Make Me

Everything for the Boss

Sex Loving Trio

Orgasmus

Hot Cookies

The Surreal and the Chaotic

She Gave Her All

Sex Library

Temper Tantrums

The Tormented Mistress

Club Sappho

Street Punk

Lovers in Torment

Their Friendly Desires

Beaten by Passion

Hot Hostage

Modern Men

Fit for a King

Dishonored Ladies

Suite 69

The Wrong People

Take Me, Stranger

Serenade to Seduction

Party Girl

Frustration

Swamp Bred

New Widow

Sexy Psycho

21 Gay Street

Of Shame and Joy

Born to be Bad

Kept

Backwoods Tramp

Faithful to None

Horizontal Secretary

Sin Hipster

Runaway Girl

Country Girl in Town

Strange Mood

The Hedonists

This Bed We Made

The Girls Go Camping

Female Tyrant

[dawneternal]

Take the World in Your Hands Eris x Elain | pt. 3

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

all aboard the crack ship???

Warnings: None

Notes: This part is not the best but we're building up to things!! I am trying to turn their handful of days together into a slow burn

Word Count: 1.8k

Ao3 Link / Masterlist

While Elain slept, Eris rummaged through the cabin and managed to find a balm that helped combat the effects of faebane. It was not as good as the updated antidote that the Dawn Court had created, but it would speed things up. Enough that he insisted he was capable of cooking dinner, though he still dragged a chair to the stove to sit on while he stirred.

Elain had slept most of the day, waking in the late afternoon as the sun became more gentle, filling the cabin with golden light instead of a harsh glare off the snow. Eris tried not to be too endeared by her sleepy eyes and messy braid, but a small part of him wanted her to be his. To wrap the sleepy girl in his arms and press a kiss to her forehead.

Everything that made her adorable had faded into a darker, more sinful shade as she had bandaged his ribs. Eris was never one to feel shameful of any form of debauchery. But her touch, so light it could almost be construed as innocent, had set him ablaze with a strange shame he had never felt. Like he didn't deserve it. He had assumed from her shy nature that any touching and teasing from her was a rare gift.

Now, sitting on a chair in front of the stove, he shook his head free of his thoughts. But not before feeling a bit of pity for his little brother, who he knew had not yet won her heart. If he had Lucien as enamored as he felt, he must be suffering.

Elain had begrudgingly agreed to let him cook, as long as he stayed sitting. But she was waiting until the morning to decide if he was ready for a trip into town.

"You take your shopping very seriously," She said when he protested, "you'd fit into the Night Court well, in that way."

"You can make your own dinner if you compare me to them again," Eris grumbled.

"I would have made it myself, but you insisted." She sat on the floor of the kitchen, back against a counter cabinet. She had pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her legs under the fabric of her skirt.

"Yes, because you made the last two." He had found sandwiches pre-made in the fridge when he grew hungry around lunch time. Another thing she had probably done to pass the time while she couldn't sleep.

"It's supposed to be a lady's job, anyways." Elain said, tossing her braid over her shoulder. Even though she really believe that.

"How very archaic for the Night Court," Eris smirked.

"But not the for the Autumn Court, I suppose." Elain regretted the words as soon as they had come out. She wasn't sure where the indignation had come from it. It had been almost like an instinct.

She watched as Eris face twitched, and then a calm mask of detachment slipped into place. One she had not seen since he had come to her cell. By the mother, was that only yesterday?

"Not for Beron, you mean." Eris said quietly, his voice far away and icy to match the mask.

"I'm sorry," Elain whispered, shrinking into herself, "I didn't mean-"

"It's ready," He interrupted. He spooned stew into a bowl and held it out to her, keeping his eyes on the stove. Then he filled his own and winnowed the few feet to the kitchen table, sitting with his back to her.

Elain stood still for a moment, watching the steam curling up from her bowl. Apologizing again would do no good. She knew he didn't want to be pitied. He wore his pride around him like a solid shield.

Standing in the silence, her eyes drifted toward the curve of his neck and the small sliver of muscle that was visible above the collar of his shirt. His red hair fell in soft waves against his neck. He may be leaner than the Night Court warriors, but his sleeves were still snug around his biceps.

Eris sighed, pulling Elain from her thoughts. As insistent as she may be about propriety, Elain was not above admiring beautiful things.

"Come and sit," He said, though the warmth had not returned to his voice yet.

"Thank you for the soup," Elain scurried to sit behind him.

Then it was quiet again. Only the sounds of the crackling fire and the still-bubbling pot on the stove, mixing with the clink of spoons against ceramic bowls.

"Thought for a thought?" Elain asked, tentative. The thing Feyre always said when Elain was quiet. Eris said nothing for a moment, but he did seem to be considering.

"There are a lot of things about the Autumn Court that I wish were different," He sighed. Elain had a feeling that this was the Eris that most other people saw. Closed off, moping. An impenetrable wall of gloom around him.

"But there are things you love about it," Elain prodded.

"It is beautiful," He relented after another pause, voice finally beginning to soften, "And peaceful - in some parts. And I do love my hounds."

"Hounds?" Elain's eyes lit up.

Eris looked at her for a moment, more ice thawing by the second. He stepped across the room and grabbed a photo frame from the desk. He placed the frame on the table in front of her and sat back down.

Elain picked it up gingerly. A weathered, sepia photo of a dozen sleek, beautiful hounds sitting in a row, in a frame of carved maple leaves. Foliage of all colors piled up on the ground around them, dappled light across the whole image. Elain looked back at him, beaming.

"What was your thought?" He asked, his eyes smiling back at her. She liked this Eris more. The one who was tender and not ashamed of loving things. The one who teased her and talked to her almost like a friend.

"I'm thinking it's a shame how much pretending you do," She said, setting the frame on the table. Her boldness could push him right back into his fortress, but she took the risk.

"Maybe so, but that's a thought about me, not about you." Eris shrugged.

"There's not supposed to be rules to it. But ask me a question, if you want to know something about me."

"What was the falling out in the night court?" He eyed her as he said it, watching the hint of a scowl pass over her face.

Indeed, she was struggling not to let hypocrisy win and close in on herself in response.

"It's embarrassing," Elain protested.

"You know plenty of embarrassing things about me," Eris countered, gaze still on her as he sipped another spoonful of soup.

"I do not. I barely know you."

"Fine, then I'll tell you something embarrassing about myself next."

"You're a busy body and a gossip," Elain rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, arms crossed. She kept her eyes on the table as she spoke. "I heard of something Rhysand had done. Something that changed the course of things for me a great deal. It happened quite a while ago, so I probably shouldn't care. But I do, anyways. Especially because he never would have told me himself. No one would have. Nesta let it slip because she had too much to drink, and she probably only knew because she squeezed it out of Cassian."

"What did he do?" Eris asked, engrossed.

"He forbid someone I cared for from seeing me," Elain gritted out between her teeth. She flashed him a look, warning him not to ask any follow up questions.

But he asked, anyways, "The shadowsinger?"

"How did you know?" Elain cried, blush creeping up her neck and the points of her ears.

"Well he wouldn't forbid a man from seeing his mate, so it couldn't be Lucien. Unless it's a stranger to me, that leaves Azriel. Everyone else is mated."

"Azriel is mated too," She said, voice full of bitter longing, "But he wasn't back then. They're on a honeymoon, now. Rhysand was furious with Nesta, though they're always furious with each other over something. She and Cassian have been visiting Illyrian camps since then, and Rhysand is back and forth between the Hewn City and Velaris, basically hiding from me."

"So you were alone," Eris finished softly.

"You can see how I might prefer to be here," Elain offered a weak smile.

"Stuck in a tiny cabin with a grumpy Autumn heir, hiding from his barbaric brothers and the overbearing High Lord of Night. I'm flattered."

"Tell me something embarrassing," Elain demanded.

"I tend to snore," He confessed, the corners of his mouth creeping up into a smile.

"I know that already!" She cried.

"My point stands, lady. You already know many embarrassing things about me." Such a crooning tone and teasing grin. A little part of her wanted to smack it off his face. He would probably enjoy it, the deviant.

"You do not play fair," Elain snatched her dish and brought it to the sink.

"But I thought there weren't any rules," Eris followed, standing far too close once again. How he loved to pin her, this way.

"Must everything always be a game?" Elain tried to pretend he was not so close, desperately pushing down the heat in her body.

"Something tells me you're not as averse to games as you try to seem," He answered, his breath hot against her ear. He was close enough to see the goosebumps that spread over her skin.

They were still for a moment, Eris waiting to see what she would do. Elain trying to make a decision as her heart thundered in her chest.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, turning her head enough to catch a glimpse of him in her peripheral.

Eris's smirk faded as if her words had woken him from a trance. He stepped back and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again and leave her there in the kitchen. He grabbed a book and settled on the sofa, beginning to read with rapt attention.

As soon as he stepped away, the air around Elain felt cold and empty. It brought her back to that Solstice night, standing by herself in the hallway. Lonely and rejected. A mistake.

Overcome by a blend of unpleasant feelings, Elain sat down by the fire and rested her chin on her knees, basking in the warmth of the fire to replace Eris's closeness.

At some point, she had laid on her side and fallen asleep. When she woke again, in the middle of the night, she was back on the comfortable sofa, quilt tucked in tightly around her. Eris's soft breathing across the room lulled her back to sleep. She dreamt of autumn sunshine, the smell of fallen leaves, and of hot cider on a cold fall night.

[twig-gy]

NAME ME - it/its

tell me to edit it into my desc but banner by nebuleeart & icon by felix-lupin

profile picture id: digital edit of a pin with a spiral and an x. the spiral is the sitelen pona for nasa (strange) and the x is the sitelen pona for ala (not) so together it reads ‘not strange’ or ‘normal’. end id

banner id: a landscape of hills, a road, and forest, at nighttime - the moon, stars, and a lot of clouds (sticking to the horizon) are out - in the colors of the nonbinary flag (black, purple, yellow, and white). end id

i don’t reliably tag triggers, but self posts about self-harm/addiction or writing about gore will definitely be tagged (just the trigger, like ‘self harm’ or ‘addiction’) - i only do #[trigger] or #[trigger] mention so if tags are a bit weird that’s why. gifs are tagged with #gifs, flashing things with #flashing, and eyestrain with #eyestrain. i don’t trigger tag posts about Real World Events, mostly because, again, i am not reliable, partially because it feels weird to start now - nudity is untagged because of the latter. faggot&dyke&tranny = untagged we ride free

recent writing 1 recent writing 2 (cjshipping)

i don't have a dni for Reasons but please don't follow me if you have jashshippers on your dni and if you do you must answer my riddles three (the other post has my riddles three but if you want version with less talking: link)

i write cccc fic - my ao3 is janSikepa - give me requests! there’s just no guarantee i will do them - i appreciate comments and compliments SO MUCH

i will always appreciate an ask or any form of human communication

times i've been called homoerotic in some way: 1, somehow, despite the fact i'm aro

have been called “genuinely one of the most annoying faggots on this site” before

mutuals i have convinced to watch centricide: 4 :D

fellow jtoh mutuals: 1 (join the list!!!!)

official time loop posts: 4

“”mandatory”” listening: link

at all moments i will make inexplicable references. if you mention heart mind or soul then my cccc receptors will immediately go off. hope this helps!

cccc : main interest. posts slightly related to it/less thought out are #brainrot.png and posts where i talk more are brainrot.exe

(list of drawing ideas i have but can’t draw cause i can’t draw: link)

jtoh : like it but do not play it as often, i talk about it sometimes. its tag is #jtohposting

centricide : i like it en talk about it on occasion. its tag is #jreg.jpeg but that also includes other posts abt jreg

toki pona : i’m still learning it. sometimes i make posts in or about it (#tok.exe). i’m translating cccc into it, so far i have time machine reprise done and posted (ilo tenpo pi sin ala), and spring and a storm/storm and a spring have their lyrics finished. you can ask me abt how that is going if you want [NOTE: PAUSED CAUSE MY MICROPHONE SUCKS :((((]

#twig.txt is my tag for selfposts

#asks.png is my tag for asks

#amazing art!! is for art i like a lot

#holding onto these is for posts i find important to keep in my safe

#twiggy cites the classics is for posts i consider ‘classics’ somehow (stolen from @/virgils_muse)

#jtohposting is for silly posts relating to jtoh that none of you will get ‘cause i’m 99% sure i’m the only one on this webbed site who likes jtoh

#mi pali e ni is for when i make things

(#mi pali e kalama musi is for music and #mi pali e sitelen is for writing)

if i tag something with heartposting/mindposting/soulposting that's bc i think that they'd say that

#wholeposting is for my thoughts on whole which i have very occasionally

#jaship mention is for any post about or mentioning shipping between hms

#hmsex is for any post mentioning hms having the sex. i see nothing wrong with it but i won’t talk about it that in depth. i just need my followers to be on their toes /silly

[id: userbox with the toki pona icon on the left and the words "sona mi pi toki pona li ike." on the right.]

[my toki pona is bad]

[ultramarine-spirit]

Hi, do you know where to buy manhwa merch and have it reach Latin America? thanks 🥹💕

Hello! It depends on what version you want (I assume you want the Korean volumes. If you want the English ones, you can buy them on Amazon, but I don't recommend this because fuck Amazon).

You can buy the Korean volumes on many sites. The easiest way is to use Harumio, they ship world-wide and for free to some countries (but I believe that's not the case for Latin America, so it can be expensive depending on where you live). The good thing about using Harumio is that you won't need to hire a proxy service to send the books from Korea to your country, so it's a lot less of a hassle. Alternatively, you can buy them directly on a Korean site (such as KW Store (Carrotoon's official store), Kyobobook, Aladin, or Yes24), but you'll have to hire a proxy service because none of those stores ship internationally.

What I did when I got tired of paying Harumio's shipping fees was to find a local manhwa group who does group orders. They charge a lot less, but you'll have to find a trustworthy one, and it might take longer because they usually ship their orders at the end of the month. You should be able to find them on Instagram!

Another option is to buy them second-hand on Japanese sites. Obviously, most of what you'll find there will be the Japanese volumes, but from time to time people sell Korean, or even the Chinese and German volumes. Mandarake and Mercari are really great, and they sell for very cheap, but you'll have to hire a proxy service (I know Mandarake works with Buyee, and they are very easy to use). I explained how to do this here, but feel free to ask me more questions if you have any!

Lastly, you could wait until the Spanish translation releases in a couple of months and they bring it to Latin America. That would certainly be the cheapest option, but it'll take longer, and also- well, it's in Spanish.... Spanish from Spain...

EDIT: I just realized you asked for merch specifically. I would recommend Mandarake or Mercari for that! Or any of the Korean sites listed above. Harumio also has a bunch of things but they are pretty expensive.

Creo que eso sería todo! Espero que puedas comprarlos sin ninguna dificultad. Y si tienes alguna otra duda, mándame otra pregunta con total confianza <3

[dreamingofthewild]

Oc Meme

Thank you for tagging me @messiahzzz

B A S I C S

- Full name: Octavia Shayra Bintalzari

- Gender: Female

- Sexuality: Heteroromantic Pansexual

(Meaning she's sexually attracted to all genders, but mostly romantically attracted towards men or masculine presenting people. She only gets romantic feelings for females or female presenting people after a deep emotional connection or bond has been established).

- Pronouns: She/her

O T H E R

- Family: She has an ex-husband (arranged marriage) and a deceased long-term girlfriend (a tiefling Paladin who was also her dream guardian).

Father: A human sultan (estranged)

Mother: Politician (estranged)

Siblings: Three sisters (estranged)

- Birthplace: Calimport, Calimshan

- Job: Mercenary/ Vigilante Knight

- Phobias: Claustrophobia, Aquaphobia, Coulrophobia

- Guilty pleasures: People watching, drinking, climbing roofs to see cities from a height (especially at night), walking barefoot, experimenting in the kitchen.

- Hobbies: Playing the lute, drawing, lance board, adventuring, archery, writing, swimming.

M O R A L S

- Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/ Chaotic Good

- Sins: Lust

- Virtues: Honesty, courage, compassion, integrity, liberality, reliability, humility, preserverence, unity.

T H I S O R T H A T

- Introvert / Extrovert/ Ambivert

- Organized / Disorganized

- Close-minded / Open-minded

- Calm / Anxious / Restless

- Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between

- Cautious / Reckless / In between

- Patient / Impatient / In between

- Outspoken / Reserved / In between

- Leader / Follower / Flexible

- Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between

- Optimist / Pessimist / Realist

- Traditional / Modern / In between

- Hard-working / Lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

-OTP: Gale/ Ocatavia

-Acceptable ships: Octavia/ Wyll is also acceptable. She likes and admires Wyll, but it is Gale who won her heart.

Octavia/ Shadowheart is also acceptable.

-OT3: None. She enjoys casual relationships, but when she falls in love with someone, she is monogamous.

-BROTP:

Astarion/ Octavia - Oh boy, they hated each other on Act 1. Octavia saw right through his lies and was frustrated that he wasn't truthful about anything. But when he opened up she realised that they have things in common, and she swore to protect him at all costs.

Karlach/ Octavia - Best friends from day one Karlach lights up every room. Octavia admires her opmitism, and their morals align perfectly.

-NoTP: Octavia/Halsin (She sees him as a parental figure)

Octavia/Lae'zel (they don't see eye to eye (I like Lae'zel personally, but failed to get good approval from her in this playthrough))

Tags: @klkirbles @elspethdekarios @hotnerdywizard @an-excellent-choice @the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep @sparquesblr (your excuse to info dump about seleia if you wish)

I just scrolled through my following and followers list for people who I was interested in learning about/posted their Tavs. Do not feel obliged to participate, I am happy to remove your Tag if you would like 😊

And if I didn't tag you, feel free to participate! I love reading about people's OCs. With any pairing.

Also, I know nothing of DND. So it may be a but loose lore wise.

Edit: I forgot to add the photos, duh

[princeofsinweek]

Prince of Sin Week: Prompts, Masterlist, Rules, and FAQs

Welcome! This will serve as the guide for the first Prince of Sin Week! Please refer to this when looking for prompts, the master lists of works for the event, rules, and answers to some possible questions.

Prompts

Masterlist

Day 1: Prince Wrath/All Is Fair In Love and War

Day 2: Prince Pride/Reflections and Ego

Day 3: Prince Envy/Games & Riddles

Day 4: Prince Greed/All Bets Are Off

Day 5: Prince Gluttony/Champagne Fountains

Day 6: Prince Sloth/For Research

Day 7: Prince Lust/Lover

Rules

Prince of Sin Week supports all creative mediums (art, fics, moodboards, playlists, etc.).

This blog is ship neutral! You can ship the princes with anyone

No restriction on content! NSFW is allowed, please label with smut or NSFW for viewers and tag with #kotwsmut

We do not tolerate hate. Please don't argue or put others down. We post our work to share our love for the Princes. Please don't ruin someone's day.

Have fun with it! Everyday does have a Prince and a prompt. You can use one, both or none of the prompts for that day if you like!

No AI art will be reblogged.

If you have any questions that can't be found on the FAQs please message me!

FAQs

How do I participate?

During Prince of Sin Week, please post your content on tumblr. Tag this blog in the main body of your post (@princeofsinweek) and tag your post with #princeofsinweek.  If we don’t reblog your post within 24 hours, please feel free to send us a message with the link! We do not want to miss a post to repost.

How can I see all the works posted? 

A list will be compiled of all of the works for that day and will be posted the following morning. Content from day 3 will be reposted by the morning of day 4. If we miss your post or the link is wrong etc, please reach out and we will fix ASAP.  At the end week a masterlist will be posted here.

If I’m not a creator, how can I support this week?

Please reblog our post and spread the word!

I have a question that isn’t here!

Send me a message, and I will reach out to you with an answer.

[midgardian-witch]

Potestas Nominum

I like the idea that all the Papas have actual normal human names just as much as the idea that Nihil was just like ‘Uh that’s one, two, three and the spare one.’ So this happened - I’m sure this is neither groundbreaking nor original but this was fun to write. Idk what to do with this headcanon drabble thingy but yeah. 

My first reader fic without a ship and it’s Ghost lore headcanon shenanigans - lovely 😂 

Reader could be a Sibling of Sin or a Ghoul or just a random person, feel free to imagine what suits you best.

tags: Sister Imperator being smug | gn!reader | hints of Papa Nihil's bad parenting (if you squint) | this is mainly me jazzing with the most shallow takes 😂

ships: none

word count: 0.8k

AO3

“I appreciate the history lesson but I don't quite follow.”

Sister Imperator nods in understanding, leaning back into her plush armchair.

“Names have power,” she explains calmly, “Titles have power too but only for the one holding them.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “But Primo still goes by Primo. Same as Secondo and Terzo. Only Cardi- well Copia - doesn't go by his name anymore.”

Sister Imperator snorts, her mocking laugh echoing through the small office. “Do you really think those are their actual names? Oh dear, you still have a lot to learn.” You huff, offended, and cross your arms. Sister shakes her head at your demeanor, bemused. “While I understand people are easily led to believe that Papa Nihil would name his children after the order they were born in,” she sighs like she had been suffering under Nihil’s antics for a long time, “Remember they still have mothers. They all have names, real names, but at this point only they still know them. And me, of course.” Her smug smile grates on your nerves but you take a moment to let her words sink in. And once you do it's all you can think about. 

You think of the various Papas, trying to figure out what name would suit them. 

For Primo something ancient; a name that makes you think of dark crypts and dusty tomes, of rituals performed in the dead of night, of secrets shared in darkness. One that invokes secret meetings in graveyards, the smell of incense and the echoes of choirs singing haunted hymns.

For Secondo something seductive; a name that conjures silk sheets and sleepless nights for all the right reasons, the temptation of the unknown; a name that makes you think of bodies drenched in sweat from the exhaustion of frantic fucking and the taste of only the most expensive wines.

For Terzo something awe inspiring; a name that will be idolized for centuries to come, that promises fame and fortune to those who follow it; whispering to you of all the things you could ever want, tempting you with words coated in the sweetest honey; a hand reaching out, eager to be held.

And Copia? If that is really not his name then you imagine one that nurtures loyalty. A name that makes you think of gentle words of comfort in the darkest night, of compassion for even the smallest and weakest creatures, of community. The name of a strong yet kind leader bringing the young and old, the weak and the strong together.

“I suppose you wouldn't tell me their names, right?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Sister Imperator only smiles at you sardonically. “Yeah, I figured,” you mumble dismissively. 

“So that's why they all go by Papa now? Because names have power?” you emphasize that last part with a mocking tone, “And what do you mean ‘titles only hold power for those that have them’?”

“I meant what I said. The power of a title can only be used by the person who holds that title. It elevates them to be more than just a normal human.”

“None of them are normal humans.”

She smiles again, nodding. There is a glint in her eyes like she's happy you're finally getting it, but maybe you're just imagining things.

“While true, that's besides the point,” she waves off your comment quickly, “Why do you think C goes by Cardi more than Copia? When he doesn't insist on being called Papa.” Her face looks funny as she refers to Copia as Papa, like she bit on a lemon while watching two raccoons fuck. 

“It's short for Cardinal, right?” you confirm, your brows furrowed. 

“Exactly. Which is?”

“...a title.”

“There we go. I knew you were a smart cookie.”

You didn't feel very smart, more confused than anything. But slowly everything snapped into place.

“Sister Imperator. Papa Emeritus. And the Ghouls,” you mumble mostly to yourself, since saying your thoughts out loud had always helped you to put things together in the past, “Nameless Ghouls. The Ghouls don't have any names either! Other than the nicknames Papa and the others give them.” Nobody at the Ministry keeps their names. It's all just titles.

You're having your ah-ha moment while Sister Imperator is watching your mind unravel with that smug smile she always wears in front of the Clergy. 

“That is all…a lot to take in,” you sigh, “Thank you, Sister Imperator. This was enlightening.” You rise from your chair and give a short bow. As you turn to leave the office space she stops you.

“Just remember: don't go digging for information you should not have. We trade in secrets here, yes, but some things are secret for good reason.”

Says the one knowing all the secrets, you think to yourself but nod at her, holding your head low in deference. “Of course, Sister Imperator.”

[lokisasylum]

Someone on twitter said that ‘FACE’ brought out the true ugly face of the Music Industry--

But I think that it also brought out the true ugly face of the ARMY fandom.

So much so that from locals, casual listeners, to even the most hardcore Jimin biased OT7s finally realized that everything PJMS have been pointing out FOR YEARS was true all along.

That a great chunk of the fandom simply doesn’t care or downright HATES Jimin without reason and they will go to the most disgusting lengths to keep others from seeing the light as well under the constant harassment/threat/gaslighting of being called a “solo anti”.

They’re STILL doing it today, because somehow someone else failure is Jimin’s fault for some reason (but not the laziness of the ones who talked big and then did absolutely NOTHING to support all members solo projects the same way. And people showing full support for Jimin is considered some type of capital Sin).

And the shippers were the worst part of the deal, because most only cared about maintaining the integrity of their delusional narrative rather than protecting AND supporting both ends of their ship EQUALLY. 

Yoonminions wouldn’t stop bitching and moaning a week before the pre-release of “Set Me Free Pt.2″,  about some one-sided beef against Jimin for not “properly crediting” Yoongi IN A SONG & ALBUM THAT WERE NOT HIS TO BEGIN WITH. And only when Jimin said in an interview that the song was a nod to D2, BUT NOT DIRECTLY RELATED TO IT.  Only then did they finally STFU and started supporting.

Vminies... its time to wake up and smell the coffee, mi cielas, this cannot go on. We cannot continue with the crying-parties & embarrassing hashtags on twitter 24/7. You cannot claim a divorce when there was never a marriage to begin with. Do like Elsa and Let it go~♫

Jikookers... where to start with all of you lol... many of you were CHILL and constantly gave updates on Jimin, achievements, streaming parties and methods, voting, buying, funds, ect.

So yes, THANK YOU for your service & undying support to Team Jimin. 

The other half, however, were downright DISAPPOINTMENT upon disappointment. I swear if I could shove ya’ll in a blender on Max Speed I’m pretty sure that blender would malfunction and we’d all die together in a Nuclear Explosion. Because what do you mean you didn’t even bother listening to the whole album in support of Jimin but you suddenly gave a shit when it was revealed that there was a hidden track called “Letter” (also known as “DEAR. ARMY” as it is registered on KOMCA) where JK just did some backing vocals near the end??

And don’t even get me started  on the ones who were caught dragging other members, knowing this would get Jimin dragged as well. Those are the worse and already reaching a level of delusion I’ve only seen in trashcookers on the bird app.

But you know what tho? That’s okay, ‘cause outside of stan twitter, outside of tumblr, FB, IG, ect... None of that shit matters, Jimin's still loved, still winning, Those “other fandoms” that always shaded him got a rude awakening recently, and those individuals that always tried to discredit his achievements ALSO got a rude awakening themselves. And that’s on Karma.

So remember: “Everyone wants to see you doing good, but not better than them.“

[scottsummersevents]

For the Sexy Days of Summers Event happening right now we've invited Scott Summers (Cyclops) fans to take part in spreading more love for him out there on the internet by creating fanfiction, fanart, fan works, etc. to celebrate our favorite X-Men leader and the possibility of what if. For the duration of this challenge so far we've received some really incredible submissions with super rare pairings that are new to us. For the month of September we'd like to share some of those and also share some various fandom creations along the way in terms of content. Some might be an old favorite pairing while others might be something in terms of shipping you've never considered before.

Today's spotlight pairing is another a fun rare one that's got a lot of potential!

Below under the cut you can take a look at this pairing and see what fun it could prove to be!

Also if you have a favorite Scott pairing and a fanfic that you've written or that you love, then feel free to drop us a note and let us know so we can showcase it in the future!

Stay tuned for more duo spotlights coming soon!

If this is what we've got, then what we've got is gold by StormXPadme  (Rated E) In which Kurt comes back to the X-Men just in time to stop Scott from going to Alkali Lake and the two of them discover, they have a lot more to in common than a shitty family background.

Pit•y by Skelskeleton (Rated G) He assumes Scott is just taking pity on him when he makes the first move, but is it really that?

With you, without you by Skelskeleton (Rated T) Scott had tried to make an effort to not stare whenever he passed him, he tried to never speak to him. He tried everything his parents had told him to do, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see, wanting to talk. AKA: Scott joins the circus

Narthex by orphan_account (Rated T) But none of them are as awe struck as Scott when Kurt takes the stand. He watches the blue man as he steps onto the podium preparing the sermon on the sheets of paper in front of him. And the only thought that Scott has is that ‘he is so beautiful’

Reflections and Resolution by fanboi214 (Rated E) Kurt Wagner wakes up naked and alone in a bizarre wintery candy shop. It soon becomes apparent the sweet treats have the ability to alter his mind and body because unbeknownst to the fuzzy blue mutant he's nabbed the staring role in Mojoverse's new exhibitionist ratings bonanza

Where is it? by Neorulez (Rated M) Scott hasn't been the happiest person around so Kurt decides to mess with him but when Scott car goes missing he immediately assumes Kurt. Requested by: Vampygurl402

Missing You by actualkoschei (Rated G) Kurt travels with Mystique, and writes letters home.

Smile, The Worst Is Yet To Come (Rated E) Once upon a time, a nineteen year old kid traveled from the cold shoulder of Germany to the baking heart of America to find his love. His name was Kurt - and his name was Scott.

Christmas Party Blues by BotchedExperiment (Rated T) Kurt regretted letting Scott drag him downstairs for the party.

You Hold Moonlight in Your Hands by orphan_account (Rated T) Scott asks Kurt to the school dance, or at least he tries... it's a little more complicated than intended.

Colours by h311agay (Rated G) This story is based off of Halsey's song, Colors.

Gifts and Mementos by xenosaurus (Rated G) There's a lot of love in every physical thing Kurt owns.

Cream Soda by xenosaurus (Rated G) Scott worries, even when he doesn't have to.

first (and last) time for everything by Enterprising (Rated G) Kurt's never been on a Ferris wheel before, and as it turns out, there's a good reason why he shouldn't.

A Brittle Light, but A Light Nonetheless by fandomtothethirteenthpower (Rated M) Kurt and Scott's adventure out to the festival turn horrible, and it takes Scott's tender loving to help Kurt through it.

A Drive Home by BotchedExperiment (Rated G) Kurt starts feeling sick at school so Scott brings him home.

contrition by orphan_account (Rated M) and what is your sin, kurt wagner?

Different, But Beautiful by DaveCumstaine (Rated E) Kurt's not the most confident person when it comes to appearance, so when Scott shows him the smallest bit of interest, Kurt thinks its a joke. Scott, however, proves him wrong.

Clothes Make the Man by froggidy (Rated G) ScottKurt fic about Kurt wearing Scott's jacket. It's a start to a beautiful thing.

Boys of Summer by ekgc (Rated E) "Let me just start by saying that i, Scott Summers, had never been naked in front of anybody before. Well, besides in the showers at my old school, but that's different. I mean like, i never had been the naked center of attention of somebody else, and it was a lot stranger than i could have imagined. I also couldn't have imagined that the first person ever to see me naked would have been a boy, even less that it would have been a blue boy. But the strangest part of it all is that i was kind of enjoying it, and it was starting to show."

filled my heart with a kiss by Enterprising (Rated T) It had been Kurt's first kiss, Scott realises with growing horror. He'd stolen Kurt's first kiss during spin the bottle, of all things.

Take the Long Way Home by orphan_account (Rated T) Kurt's feeling lonely and ugly, and other bad things, so Scott decides to take him on a nice long drive, to show him how special he is. There's nothing Scott loves more than Kurt laughing as he speeds down the highway, nothing he loves more than seeing Kurt's eyes reflect the moonlight, as they stare at constellations, and Kurt teaches him the German words for them :)

German Rain by vintagealaska (Rated G) "Scott manages to study him but not make him feel like a lab rat or a freak show and yet Kurt still can’t just let go. Let himself be in love with Scott. Kurt looks like a demon - tail and all. His skin is strange. His hands are stranger. Even after all these years, he catches himself feeling as though his skin is glued to him and all he wants to do is rip out of himself and look like a normal person. Like Scott. Like Scott Summers who looks like a normal teenage boy, who can simply put on glasses and no one is none the wiser to his mutant nature. Kurt could never do that, all the disguises in the world can’t help him. People will always stare. They will always pull faces or whisper disparaging comments as they pass him in the street. He doesn’t want that for Scott."

Brownies by Wolfsheart for scottxlogan (Rated T) One of the teens going on a field trip to the city with all the other teachers and students accidentally leaves behind her pot brownies meant for later that night at the hotel. Scott finds them instead and not having Logan's or Hank's extraordinary sense of smell, just thinks they're really tasty.

And others up at AO3 here.

[wrathfulrook]

Wrathling - Chapter 4

Series rating: E

Ship: John Seed x Patience Ekner (deputy oc)

Word count: ~4.7k

Series masterlist

Read it on ao3.

Patience woke once again with her head lolling down, her neck sore, and her head in splitting agony. She opened her eyes to a harsh red lighting, initially so bright it hurt. The large room smelled like sweat, blood, and something worse. Trash bag and duct tape wrapped bodies hung from meat hooks like giant, sleeping bats. Dark puddles of mystery liquid had collected in places on the concrete floor. And directly across from her, bathed in the ominous light from an overhead antler chandelier (And really? A chandelier? Here?) sat Joey.

Joey who she hadn’t seen in weeks. Joey who had apparently been here that whole time, without reprieve.

The deputy tried to get her eyes to focus on her friend, watching her form waver back and forth as she struggled against her bonds. Joey’s hair was matted and tangled, likely not having been taken out of its braid since her capture. Tear streaks ran down her face, disappearing under the strip of duct tape that secured her mouth shut. There was a strong chance the ‘something worse’ odor she smelled was Joey.

Joey’s struggling became more frantic as Patience’s vision began to clear and she heard a faint, whistled tune. Joey screamed from behind her makeshift gag and pulled at the ropes securing her to the chair until Patience could see from across the room that her wrists were chafing. Following her friend’s panicked gaze, Patience turned to her right and saw none other than John Seed, himself.

He stood in front of a worn work bench, his back to the bound deputies while he whistled a tune Patience felt confident she could place had she not suffered a recent blow to the head. He opened a toolbox that she could not see inside of from her angle. Between the whistling and the relaxed, habitual seeming movements of his exposed forearms, John Seed exuded a casual ease and comfort that filled Patience with dread.

He stopped whistling, turned around, and leaned back against the bench. The genuine smile on his face unsettled her even further.

Joey’s cries turned to whimpers. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Seeing her always strong, often stoic colleague brought to tears by just his presence… It made Patience fear John Seed more than anything he, himself, could be doing.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the Power of Yes,” he began casually, conversationally, as if he didn’t have the two of them secured to chairs in a literal torture chamber. “One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground, and I experienced pain after pain after pain…

“And when I didn’t think I could take anymore- I did.

“Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared, I was… clear. I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was ‘Yes.’ I spent my entire life looking for more things to say ‘yes’ to. I opened up every hole in my body and when those were filled, I created more.”

Patience carefully kept her face still, unexpressive. But, honestly, what the fuck?

“But it was Joseph who showed me just how selfish I was being. Always receiving. Always taking. The best gift isn’t the one you get. It’s the one you give, and giving takes courage.” His voice was becoming less conversational, more proselytizing. “The courage to own your sin. To etch it onto your flesh and carry its burden. And when you have endured, when you truly begin to atone… To cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see…”

He took a heavy breath, seemingly blown away by his own speech.

“My God, that’s courage.”

John Seed leveled his eyes with hers, and she swallowed at the weight of his full attention. He spoke directly to her, as if Joey wasn’t even in the room anymore. His volume rose as he spoke, not in anger, but in excitement. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘yes’ so you can confront your weaknesses, confront your sin.

“You will swim across an ocean of pain and you will emerge… free! For only then can you truly begin to atone.”

He pulled his gaze from her and glanced between both women, picking up a long icepick from the work bench and brandishing it before them.

“So who wants to go first? Hmm?”

He gave them a chance to volunteer. Well, gave Patience a chance, really, as Joey’s mouth was still secured shut. She opened her mouth, whether to ask to go first or to tell John Seed to fuck off, she wasn’t sure. But in any case, Joey’s wet eyes met hers and she shook her head frantically. The message was clear: Don’t.

“Which one? Hmm?”

Patience deferred to Joey, given that she’d been here longer, and knew more about how he would react in any given situation than she did. So she snapped her mouth shut and stayed silent.

“This is lesson number one.” His voice was getting harder. It was almost imperceptible, but he was losing his patience. “Someone’s got to choose.”

He turned between them, waiting for an answer, but both deputies kept quiet. He raised his eyebrows in question, but the rest of his face hardened. Patience felt her pulse quicken.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He yelled, turning and flipping the bench onto its side. Joey cried out from behind her gag, and Patience felt her stomach sink with the unique and familiar fear of a man’s rage directed her way. “We’ll start with you!”

He advanced toward her, bending low so that his shining blue eyes met hers, all traces of his recent outburst gone. “You won’t regret this,” he said to her, so lowly she doubted Joey could hear. “I promise.”

Rising again, he announced to the room, “Now, before we begin, I think it’s only proper that Deputy Hudson goes back to her room.” He grabbed the back of Joey’s chair, wheeling her towards the door behind Patience. “Confessions are supposed to be private after all.”

Joey screamed and fought against her bonds again, and she was tempted to do the same. She’d give anything not to be left alone with this maniac.

“Shh, shh, shhhh,” he hushed Joey. “I am not here to take your life. I’m here to give it to you.”

Patience heard the door open, heard him hand Joey off to another person with orders to return her to where she was being held, followed by the door closing once again. She loathed him for what he’d done to her friend. She hated herself for the fearful tears that pricked at her eyes when she heard his footsteps approaching once more. She quickly blinked them away.

He walked past her, moving to the work bench. He worked to right it, grunting lowly with the effort. His lean muscles strained through his dress shirt, and she realized just how screwed she was. When the bench was righted, he leaned casually against it once more, and offered her a small smile, his hand over his heart.

“My apologies for the outburst.”

She scoffed, but immediately regretted the action. She didn’t want to anger him further. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.

“It’s difficult for me, how resistant you are to accepting my help.” He raised a single brow, cueing her to speak.

She didn’t.

He crossed his arms across his chest, amusement clear on his face. “You’re much more demure in person than over the radio, Deputy.”

“Well, I’m in a bit of a bad situation right now, and I’m trying not to make it worse.”

Don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass.

A smile tugged at the creases of his eyes. “You think you’re in a bad situation?”

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

She stayed quiet.

The mirth drained instantly from his features. It was terrifying how he could do that. “This is not a bad situation, Deputy. This is the first good thing to happen to you in a while, I’d wager. There will be pain. But the pain is necessary to confess, to atone. And in the end, when you are free of sin and filled with clarity, you will look back with nothing but fondness and gratitude.

“Nothing you can say will make this process any worse for you. In fact, you should be as candid as possible throughout your confession. You need to be honest with yourself, with me, with God. You need to truly confront your sin in order to be free of it.”

“And what if I don’t want to be free of my sin?”

He smiled kindly and spoke gently, “Sinners often cling to their sins. That’s why you need a baptist to help you. That’s why I’m here. It’s natural to be afraid. Though it will hurt, you won’t be permanently harmed, and you won’t be killed.”

She fought against the urge to roll her eyes, her ire at the man nearly overcoming her fear of him. “The only reason you won’t kill me is because you can’t. Joseph said that I had to be saved, or you wouldn’t get to ‘walk through Eden’s Gate.’ You can’t kill me without risking your immortal soul, or whatever.”

John Seed glared at her, and she wished she had never spoken.

“There are fates far worse than death, Deputy.”

He turned his back to her, rummaging through the implements he’d replaced onto the bench, settling for the long, pointed icepick that he’d brandished earlier. He offered her a kind smile that she didn’t trust for a second before he strolled over, pulling a chair behind him. He sat across from her, much too close for comfort while he twirled the icepick through his fingers. He leaned close, bringing his mouth to her ear, his dark facial hair scraping against her sensitive skin as she pulled away as much as she could while tied down.

His whispered lowly, almost seductively into her ear, “You will confess to me. Every sin you’ve ever committed, no matter how small, no matter how petty, no matter how you justified it at the time… You will confess.”

Before pulling away, his hot breath still on her skin, he drove the icepick into the meat of her left thigh. Then he pulled back slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, watching her react.

Patience had never been stabbed before. Not anywhere, not by anything. She’d once gotten a puncture wound from a sharp stick while running on the beach as a girl, but that was nothing. Nothing in general and nothing compared to this. She’d managed to make it through her fight with the cult so far with only bullet grazes, and one shallow bullet wound. She had never experienced anything like this.

She couldn’t exactly feel the metal that was stuck in her flesh. Her brain had no way to process it. But the area felt both ice cold and too warm for comfort. The pain felt both sharp and dull. Nausea was involved, somehow.

Her eyes were blown wide, watching John Seed, the man who had just stabbed her, lean back in his chair. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t scream. In fact, no sound at all came out. He didn’t react to her shock, and so she turned her gaze downward. The blue plastic handle of the tool stuck almost straight out of her leg, with only about two inches of the metal shaft outside of her leg with it. She was amazed at how it had pierced so cleanly through the denim of her jeans, the light fabric only barely stained red around the metal.

She was dimly aware that that was a stupid thing to be preoccupied with. Was this what shock felt like?

As she stared dumbly at the scene, a tattooed hand crept into her field of vision, wrapped its long fingers around the weapon, and yanked. He did not yank it straight out, and Patience noticed it snag on the hole in her jeans, and then so much dark blood spill out, before she felt any pain.

And then she felt the pain.

And this time, she did scream.

She screwed her eyes up tight, threw her head back, and wailed. This pain felt more tangible, less abstract, and she felt her awareness slam back in full force.

“FUCK! JESUS FUCKING-“ She gasped and opened her eyes, glaring at the man across from her. “Fuck you! FUCK!” She squirmed against the ropes and breathed harshly through clenched teeth.

“Now, Deputy, there’s no need to start with your biggest sin. We have all the time in the world.” He smiled as though he’d made a particularly clever joke. “We can start small. Ease our way in. Work our way up. So, I’ll begin with a simple question: What is your name?”

Her name? “What?”

“Your name, Deputy. I’m afraid that Sheriff Whitehorse had yet to push your paperwork through the system, to where our Faithful on the inside could access it.”

Fucking Nancy.

“So, I don’t actually know your name. I have almost no information on you, as compared to your fellow deputies.”

He gestured to the corner of the room, where a small stack of file folders sat. Nancy had actually passed the personnel files along to the cult, that bitch. Except for hers, apparently. She’d only been on the force for about two weeks before they went after Joseph. Here’s to Earl and to procrastination.

“Your name, Deputy?”

“Friends call me Rook. You can call me Deputy.”

He laughed.

“What do you have to lose by telling me your name?”

“Deputy,” she repeated.

In one swift motion, he rose from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and backhanded her across the face so hard that her ears rang.

When her ears stopped ringing and her head stopped spinning, she looked up to find him standing over her, fuming.

“Is this worth it to you?” he hissed. “Is the fate of your soul less important than keeping your name from me? Are you so prideful? Is that your sin, Deputy? Pride?”

She did not respond.

“Tell me,” he began, picking up a small knife, “is your soul worth so little to you? Why do you insist on refusing my help?”

“Help?!”

He dropped to a crouch beside her, grabbing her hand in one hand and forearm in the other.

“Yes. Help. The world is coming to end, my dear. The souls of the Project will be safe, underground, ready to enter the world again, into the New Eden.” He manipulated her arm in its bonds, so that the inside of her arm was facing up. The rope around her wrist was tied so tightly that it bit into and burned her skin as she was forced to rotate it. “Those who refuse the Father, well… They’ll burn.”

“And what if I don’t believe the world is ending? What if I don’t believe in souls?” She stared into his eyes, trying to bore a hole through him the way she felt he’d done to her.

Picking up the knife again, and bringing it to the thin, sensitive skin of her arm, he said, “I’m sorry to hear you aren’t a believer.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. He placed the blade against her skin, a few inches below her elbow, and pushed until it just barely bit into the skin, hardly deeper than a papercut. Patience had to look away when he, slowly, carefully, began to drag the blade down towards her wrist, making a long, shallow incision.

She pulled in a sharp, stuttering breath.

“Truly, I am. Those who believe in something, a god, souls, at least a caring universe, they find it easier. Easier to see the light, to confess, to atone. I take it if you don’t believe in souls, you don’t believe in God?”

The knife curved a bit, causing a turn at the very end of the incision. Strong, cold fingers gripped her jaw, too tightly, and brought her to face his cold blue eyes.

“Answer me.”

Patience paused before giving in. “…No. I don’t.”

“Hmm. Then this will be hard for you.”

The knife was brought back to its original position, and he pressed it back into her about a half inch to the side of the first cut. He made an identical incision, so, so shallow, parallel to the other. When he finished, he curved the knife the other way, forcing the two slices to meet in a v just above her wrist. She worked to control her breathing, to push through the pain, while he took the edge of the blade and dug under the point of the incision, poking and scraping until he suddenly stopped.

Patience heard the knife hit the floor and looked from his face to her arm. He had pulled up the v-point, until it was a thin, raised flap of skin. When John Seed produced a pair of pliers, she felt a flash of terror.

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that. No one, not even John fucking Seed, could come up with something so horrible. It was simply the panic at her situation that made her think that-

He moved to stand beside her, grasping the flap with the pliers. She froze, too afraid to squirm, even, to hurt herself by moving the wrong way. He adjusted his grip on the tool, and Patience was moved to begging.

“Please, please, don’t. Please, god, don’t-!”

He smiled. “I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

Then he pulled.

Patience screamed. She screamed so loudly that the sound reverberated around the room, so loudly that the noise hurt her ears. The pain was sharp. Searing. Indescribable.

Through the blur of her tears, she looked down to see the entire strip of skin between the incisions missing, going further even than the start of the cuts, up to the crook of their elbow. Small rivulets of blood ran down the sides of her arm.

“Yes!” he whooped. “Yes! The pain will bring you clarity. The pain will save you!”

He braced his hands on her arms in order to lean into her space, mindless of the agony that shot up her injured side as he did so. His eyes were wide and bright, searching her expression.

She spit into his face.

He laughed manically as he hit her again, almost toppling the entire chair with her this time.

“Ohoho, Deputy!,” he crooned. “I see you.” He paced back and forth in front of her, waving the pliers he still held as he gestured. “I see you! I see your sin. It’s so plain, so clear! Your sin… is Wrath.”

Patience mulled it over through the throbbing of her arm, leg, and head. If she had to pick one, which she really very much did not, wrath might be the best fit. She smiled at him through her pain, trying to match his jubilant expression. She made a show of turning her head to think it through, despite how that exacerbated the pulsing ache.

“…Could be. I certainly hate you. I love destroying your things. I may have guessed lust with the way the sight of one of your silos exploding makes me want to cream my jeans… but wrath makes sens-“

She was cut off when his fist collided with her mouth. The metallic taste of hot blood flooded her tongue.

“You,” he seethed. “You filthy fucking sinner.” He spit the word at her like it was a curse.

He hit her again, and she wasn’t sure whether she passed out or not. The next few… what? Minutes? Hours? Days? Were a blur of pain and disorientation. Sharp, glinting knives. The floor rushing up at her. Bruising fingers. John Seed’s manic laughter. She didn’t know what she said, what order she said it in, what prompted her to say it. She floated in and out of lucidity…

~

“…cut them out, Deputy?”

“Wh-what?” Her mouth felt too heavy.

“Why did you cut your extended family out of your life?”

~

“I want to go home,” she softly sobbed to the man in front of her.

He gently shushed her, brushing whisps of hair from her sweaty brow.

“Soon, my dear, just a bit more,” he soothed.

She nodded. She believed him. He would take her home.

~

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…”

~

A single long, cool finger ran underneath her black choker, teasing the skin underneath.

“Choose your next words carefully, Deputy,” he warned her.

She didn’t know he wanted to hear. What did he want to hear?

~

She couldn’t breathe. John Seed threw her to the floor with a strength she would have never thought he could possess and now she couldn’t breathe. A shock of pain through her torso threatened to tear a scream from her throat.

The added kick to her ribs didn’t help.

She tried again to pull in a breath and found herself still floundering, the dark edges of her vision creeping in again…

~

Patience came to on the floor.

“Ahhh, Deputy, you’re back.”

She lifted her head to see John Seed, wiping down the tools he’d used on her. He met her eyes, made sure she was really paying attention before he continued.

“That is your sin. Wrath. To see it, feel it, externally… Do you see? Do you recognize it?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he shushed her instead. He came to her, helped her up, and deposited her back on the chair she had started in. She winced as her open skin pressed into the seat.

“Shh, shh, shh.” He smoothed back the hair that had fallen into her face. “Can you tell me, my dear, honestly, that you don’t recognize the wrath within yourself?”

Patience didn’t think she was overly wrathful. She did what she had to do. She was protecting the people of the county against the cult that would torture and kill them. Wrath had nothing to do with it. Whether she enjoyed it or not, she was doing what she had to.

She did enjoy it, though. Not the killing. Not really. But the destruction. She reveled in it. She enjoyed watching shrines and silos fall. She loved watching trucks go up in flames. She liked knowing she was the one doing it, and that the cult was suffering for it. She enjoyed that when she was pushed, she could push back just as hard.

Maybe that was wrath.

But it didn’t matter.

She told him as much.

“Of course it matters. If you can accept your wrath, if you can confront it inside you, then you can confess. And when you confess, you can begin to atone.

She shook her head weakly, the motion hobbled by pain. “The confession doesn’t matter. Even if I confessed to you, told you everything wrong I’d ever done in my life, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t believe in souls, or god, or the concept of sin. It’s not real.”

His eyes never left hers as he crept even closer, his face taking up her entire field of vision.

“Have you ever done anything you’re ashamed of? Something you still think about, that still bothers you inside? Even something small, something so inconsequential no one else even remembers, but still bothers you?”

They sat quietly while she thought. She kept her eyes on his. They seemed so earnest, so hopeful.

Of course they were. He was a hairs breadth from getting her to give in. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But more than that, she wanted this to be over.

“Once a little old man cut me off in traffic. Not a driver, just a guy. He stepped out onto the road to cross, and I had to brake. He was in a crosswalk but it wasn’t his turn. I was pissed. I flipped him off and yelled. He looked really surprised, like he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. He probably just thought he had enough time to cross without me having to slow down.”

He just stared, slowly nodding. Listening intently.

Patience looked straight ahead, eyes dull and voice deadened. “I’m still kind of embarrassed.”

“That is the power of a true confession. Whether or not you felt you confessed to God is irrelevant. You confessed to me. And in doing so, you confessed to yourself. You confronted a wrathful moment in your life. And I feel confident it won’t bother you again.

“The goal is for you to be faithful. Without sin. Worthy of Eden. But faith does not have to be the first step of that journey. It is possible to become closer to God, to live a less sinful life, without believing. You can confess.

“Will you accept your sin, Deputy?”

She looked back into his eyes and could almost feel the excitement rolling off of him. She felt that she shouldn’t give into him. She didn’t want to give into him. But she could be done. She could feel better. She wouldn’t even have to compromise her beliefs, or pretend to have converted. She could just confess and be done.

He had asked her before if it was worth her pride. It was just one word. One tiny word.

“Yes,” she said.

He swooped in, placing a firm kiss on her forehead, before pulling back with a Cheshire grin.

“Yes!” he repeated, gleeful.

He produced a wet sponge, wiping and dabbing at her chest. When he was satisfied, he wheeled over a small table on which sat a tattoo gun and replacement needles and ink. He flicked the gun on, and Patience braced herself. She’d never gotten tattooed before, and didn’t know what to expect. Getting rapidly poked with a needle over and over… it probably wasn’t great. But compared to what she’d already been through…

When the needle touched her skin, she jolted. John firmly scolded her with a “Be still,” but didn’t look up from his work. She thought she should be bothered that he was staring down at her exposed chest, but she wasn’t. She was just hurt and tired and done.

She wanted to be done.

She managed to sit still through the rest of the tattoo, only marginally bothered that she’d now have the word ‘wrath’ on her skin for all time. She expected, and hoped, that she’d be angrier after she’d had food, water, and sleep. The process did hurt, but in a different way than she’d anticipated, almost as if he was pressing too hard.

“Tell me, Deputy,” he said as he finished, stepping back to admire his work. He rifled around in his toolkit once more, and she took a deep breath. It was almost over. Some more pain. Some more confessing. Then she’d be done. “What is your name?”

Power. Pride. It all seemed so stupid now. So not worth the energy.

“Patience.”

He spun around, forgetting his kit and the implements inside.

“Patience?” he asked through laughter. “Really?”

It was an uncommon name, sure, but laughable?

“Patience Ekner.”

He laughed again.

“That is too good to be true! Wrath herself? Named for its tempering virtue?”

He continued to laugh as she stared dumbly at him.

Composing himself, he explained, “Each of the seven sins has a corresponding virtue. One that counteracts it, so to speak. Sloth’s virtue,” he tapped his chest, “is diligence. By eschewing sloth, I become more diligent. But practicing diligence I can ward off sloth. Wrath’s virtue is patience.”

That did ring a bell, actually. She had heard that somewhere once, or maybe read it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Patience. Now, let’s really get to know each other,” he said as he reached back into the toolkit.

As he pulled out yet another means to torment her, the door creaked open, and John whirled to face whoever dared interrupt him, only to find the Father, himself.

“Joseph?”

But the cult leader ignored his brother, his herald, instead rushing to the deputy’s side. His eyes scanned her form as he spoke, but his words were directed to John.

“The Voice- I misunderstood- What did you do to her?”

Chapter 5