#have you ever smelled a chess piece?

[salmoniid]

do we see my vision

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Home? (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Small Drabble, Sebby and Painter really need their happy ending guys :(

Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ^^

Tears fell down your cheeks when the scene of nature invaded your senses. It felt so . . . overwhelming to be back home. After agonizing day after agonizing day down in that hellhole. The gently swaying of the trees, the soft chirps of the birds and the sound of rushing water greeting your ears contrasted greatly to the sounds of the empty ocean and horrifying screams that seemed to ring out days on end; finally seeing colors that aren't grey; the fresh smell of the trees and plants invading your sense of smell made you forget the strong smell of iron and saltwater that seemed to be present in every room.

Yeah . . . you were finally home.

With company, too. Risking a glance over to Sebastian, in his hands was the monitor of Painter, memories flood your brain that lead up to this exact moment. UrbanShade saw him as too much as a threat to the company, so much that they had sent out several EXR-P's to attempt to kill him only to fail miserably. You happened to be one of those EXR-P's. But you weren't able to go through with it, you read his file before being sent out. How he was accused of a crime he didn't commit, to being mutated beyond belief whilst in a great immense of pain, to being treated like an animal by the personnel of the company.

So when you finally encountered the man, you simply took the gun out of its holster, and handed it over to him with no hesitation. When he asked? You simply told him you refuse to be another chess piece for a company that has brought him suffering, and you wished to help him go against them.

He laughed at you for a good minute, calling you stupid for thinking that your, "little trick", would work on him of all people.

---

"Then shoot me." Those words seemed to snap him out of his laughter, bewildered bright eyes snapping in your direction when those words tumbled out, meeting determined eyes "If you believe me to be the same as those of UrbanShade," You took a step closer to him, giving him the opportunity to shoot you at point-blank, "-then shoot me dead."

---

Ever since, you teamed up against the company—though he helped take out the chip before you could proceed any further, saying how it was too much of a risk that they could be listening in—gathering any pieces of data you could potentially use against them in exchange for your freedom. It seemed to have become easier when Painter joined the cause.

An opportunity soon made itself known, months spent preparing for this one moment, none of you could mess it up. You only had one chance at succeeding. No mess-ups were allowed. It was a grueling process, but you pushed forward, determined to see the light of the sun.

And it worked. A few injuries here and there, but you now had the crystal in your possession. Once the personal heard wind of it, they immediately doubled their efforts to get their grubby hands on the crystal, like a school of piranhas going after a piece of dead meat. Though their efforts ceased when Sebastian threatened to break it with no hesitation, unless they met your demands.

Freedom, a duffel with $XXXXXX of cash and a computer for Painter to use. No chips, no trackers, no bombs, nothing. Unless they want their precious crystal to be destroyed.

And once you finally stepped foot on the surface? You let Painter and Sebastian do what they've wanted to do for a loooonng time; releasing every single piece of data that UrbanShade had to offer to the public.

It spread in a span of minutes.

The government found out about the operation Urbanshade was running, helping you all with building a case against them. The court date was set, so now you could only wait.

Now all that was left to do was watch them burn, in your old farmhouse within the woods, finally free from their clutches.

"Ready to start all over?" You were only met with silence, only the noises of the woods answering you, maybe he didn't hear you. But a glance proved you wrong, his face said everything. There was an unbelievably soft look on his face, his eyes scanning everything that surrounded him; his bottom lip seemed to tremble slightly as an overwhelming tsunami of emotions hit him all at once when the fact he was on the surface again sunk in. His eyes taking on a glassy look, his frame now trembling, holding onto Painter to make sure the AI didn't fall.

Painter only let out a sound of awe at their surrounding, their giggles echoing into the woods when a yellow butterfly landed on the frame of their screen, opening and closing its wings before flying off.

Smiling softly, you intertwined your fingers with Sebastians bigger one, giving it a small squeeze to pull him back to Earth. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back, readjusting his hold on the computer before looking over at you.

". . . Yeah," A slight crack was heard in his voice, clearing his throat before speaking again, "-yeah I'm ready."

"Let's go home then." Heading towards the worn out path, you missed the look Sebastian made at the mention of home. Home, how long has he thought about home? The safety of one, the shelter of one, the warmth of one?

"Home?"

"Yeah, home."

Next Part

[ryuzakemo128]

The Blood Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Adult Themes. Dark Content. Targaryen Incest.

Triggers: Incest, Dubious Consent, Drama, Manipulation, Power Struggle.

Words: 1,460

Links: [Dividers] [Masterlist]

Summary: “Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

[Daemon's point of view]

Aelora looked at him, a stern look in her crimson eyes as she told her cousin to grow up, to get over his petty fears and insecurities. Her voice was like a whip crack, sharp, and stinging. It was a challenge that Daemon found thrilling and irritating all at once. He knew she was right, though. If he were going to play the Game of Thrones, he couldn't be a pawn forever.

“You can't expect to play it, if you don't know the rules, you also can't expect to be allowed to play it if you refuse to play by them.” Aelora repeated. “It’s like a game of chess, sometimes you have to sacrifice a chess piece on the board to get what you want.”

Daemon felt his jaw clench, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. He had been feeling stifled in the shadow of his brother, Viserys, for too long. The whispers in the halls of the Red Keep, the constant reminders that he was second in line for the Iron Throne and always would be, until Viserys changed his mind. His mind filled with the vile words from his hand, Otto Hightower.

He was replaced as heir to the iron throne by his niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Replaced by a woman half his age. He clenched his fists, rage pulsating through him, threatening to boil over. Pushed aside, dismissed, deemed unworthy by his brother and the meddling snake.

Unless something changed, something had to change, these thoughts buzzing around. They were driving him mad.

“Daemon.” Aelora whispered, snapping her fingers to get his attention, “You’re thinking too far ahead. You’re putting the cart before the horse.”

“What do you mean?” Daemon snapped, he didn’t mean to snap at her. It was just instinct, his temper wound him up so far, that he snapped at his cousin.

“Power, control and standing can come in many forms, some of those ways lie in what people already know. What if I could tell you, there is another way, a road less travelled and deemed treacherous. As they don’t understand it, nor did they ever seem to want to either.”

Aelora’s smooth voice, silk, whispered sweet nothings and dark promises into his ear, and her hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Aelora’s words were like a key unlocking a door he hadn’t realised was there. He gazed upon the slow forming smirk on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mischief. Both alluring and alarming. She never looked at him like that before.

What changed? What did she have in mind? When did she start smelling like lavender? Is she trying to seduce me? When did she start wearing revealing attire such as this? She is trying to seduce me, isn't she? The way she smiles, the dress, the lavender perfume wafting into his nose, a scent known to help people relax. But why? Why now? Why me?

“Are you scared of me, cousin?” she whispered into my ear, a shiver ran down my spine as she continued, “Do you not like it when I take what I want? You said you liked it, though.”

Daemon's gaze snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and anger flickering in his eyes. “What are you playing at, Aelora?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You wound me, cousin, suggesting that I am the one playing games? For all your intelligence, you can’t perceive the possible indication that I wanted to have amorous congress with you. Who else would write you those tiny little notes seeking comfort in the dead of night?”

Her hand traced a line-up his chest, sending a warm shiver through him. Her lips an inch away from his, “It seems you don't actually want to. So, I guess I won't. I’ll mosey my way down to Aegon and take his seed inside of me.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. The audacity! He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. “You won’t go anywhere near him, do you understand?” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“What's a girl to do to get laid, Daemon?” she taunted, gripping his wrist, pulling him closer to her. Her warm breath on his cheek. “Did you expect me to go without for so long?”

Daemon felt his anger spike and his grip tightened on her wrist. “If you think for one moment I'd let you—”

“Fuck another man?” She finished for him. “Then why aren’t you doing it then? Hmm? I have offered myself to you over and over. Yet you're not looking at me. You're looking everywhere else.”

Then it dawned on him, the notes, the perfume, the dress, the long gazes in his direction, the rumours about her promiscuous ways spread around deliberately by her, it was all a facade. A cleverly crafted web of manipulation to get under his skin, to get him to react. And she had succeeded. He felt like a fool, but he also felt something else, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something primal and raw.

Here she is now. Pulling him closer to her, like a captain pulling a sailor from a shipwreck, like a siren pulling a sailor into the depth of the sea.

Daemon’s hand loosened around her wrist, his anger dissipating into something else. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, her breath tickling his skin. Aelora’s eyes searched his, looking for something, anything, to prove that she had his full attention.

“Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

Daemon’s breath hitched in his throat. “What game are you playing, Aelora?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was clear that he was rattled.

“Is it really a game if I’m trying to get what I want?” Aelora whispered, inching closer to him. “Are you scared you will not like it, or are you afraid of liking it too much?”

Daemon's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, but his body betrayed him, his heart thumping in his chest. He stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but Aelora followed, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and traced a finger along his jawline, sending a jolt of heat through him.

He said, “I'm not scared of anything, least of all you, Aelora.” His voice was calm, but the tremor in his chest gave him away.

“Yet you're walking away from me.” Aelora pointed out, “So you must be.”

Daemon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “I’m not walking away, I’m just—”

“Just what? Unable to handle a woman like me?” she taunted.

Daemon felt the blood rush to his face. He was not a man to be taunted, not by anyone, least of all by his own flesh and blood. He stepped closer to Aelora, his eyes blazing with a fiery determination that she had not seen before. “You think you can play me like one of your little instruments?”

“If I wanted to 'play' you, I wouldn't have been trying to get into bed with you.” Aelora snapped as she turned to leave his bedchamber.

Daemon's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “What do you want from me, Aelora?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Her lips firmly planted on his as soon as he touched her again, which took him by surprise. Aelora’s kiss was feverish, hungry, as if she had been starving for his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, her body pressing into his with a need both undeniable, her hands exploring his body like it was a foreign country she hadn't been before.

Daemon’s resolve crumbled like the crumbling stones of Valyria, the warmth of her mouth melting his defences away. He had to admit, he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the dance of power and seduction. But now, with Aelora in his arms, he realised he had been craving this closeness, this connection, this fire. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a dance of desire.

His hands wandered further down to her legs, gripping her firmly, as if he feared she might disappear again. Aelora's fingers worked their way through his hair, the soft strands a stark contrast to the iron grip of his hand on her wrist. Her body responded to his touch, arching into him, begging for more. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the same heat that burned in his veins.

This is going to be a long night.

He was going to enjoy it.

No matter what happened.

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

Gay people real?!?

Can i get a burger extra cheese

Or if you dont have that

A kingleader fic about Caine just,,, wearing kingers robe (assuming he has more than one) and kinger catching him red-handed ——> fluff ensues

I have shart block so i’ll prolly draw it too (if it’s okay wit u tho)

Thamk you 🫶

I do not have a burger, no, but I do have some gays.

Anyone making art about anything I write ever makes me the world's happiest guy so if you wanna draw it then fuck yeah draw it

Caine quietly opened the door to Kinger's room. He knew the chess piece was in his smaller, separate fortress near the stage, so he decided to use this opportunity to his advantage.

Moving further in, Caine scanned the room for anything resembling a closet, but found only the large pillow fort that took up near the entire room. Maybe it was in there, along with likely everything Kinger owned. He really could've just had a room made of pillows in the first place, all he had to do was ask...

Pushing some of the pillows aside, Caine went inside and found a lot more than what he expected to. The place was larger than what it had looked like and had an abundance of furniture and decorations. It was rather nice. He couldn't help but run his hands along most of it, lingering on the bed specifically for probably longer than what would be considered normal.

Remembering why he was there to begin with, he floated over to the closet and pulled open the doors. Inside were about five identical purple robes. Perfect.

It was at this point where he hesitated. Would this be wrong? He was in a relationship with Kinger at this point, and he wasn't doing anything inherently weird. He just wanted to try on one of the robes, then he'd put it right back.

He pulled one of the robes off of its hanger. Caine examined it as he held it in his hands. It was soft. He opened the robe and placed it on his shoulders, feeling himself being weighed down by it. From where he was floating, the bottom of it brushed against the floor.

As he pulled it closer to himself, he felt a pleasant warmth rise in his face. The robe felt comforting and nice. It felt like Kinger. So absorbed was Caine in the robe's feel and the thoughts of Kinger it provoked, he didn't hear the door creak open further nor the shuffling of pillows being moved aside.

"Caine, what are you doing?" The ringmaster startled, both of them yelling in surprise. His blush worsened exponentially. He had forgotten to close the door, and now he had to face the consequences.

"W-well, uh, you see, I've always wanted to- to try on one of your robes. They've always looked-" His eyes wandered along the robe Kinger wore now, "felt, so soft."

"Couldn't you have just spawned one in instead of trying to sneak in here?"

"I suppose, but..." He faltered, attempting to find the words that would make his feelings make sense. "It just isn't the same! That would just be another robe, these are your robes, y-you wore them, they, um, smell like... you."

"...Caine, you don't have a nose." Kinger was touched by the sentiment regardless, despite how little sense it made.

"I know I don't, let me be romantic!" The chess piece chuckled, putting a hand on Caine's face which he immediately leaned into.

"Alright, then. You know you really could've just asked for one of my robes, I would've given it to you. You look cute in it anyway." Kinger caressed the ringmaster's gums, his voice lowering somewhat. "I like seeing you in my clothes."

He felt Caine's face start to burn up against his palm along with hearing a quiet dial-up sound. "A-ah- I didn't know you'd- uh-"

Kinger pressed his face to Caine's teeth and smiled. "You don't need to be so sneaky with this. Feel free to steal from me whenever you want."

Caine took his word for it, which resulted in multiple morning greetings starting with the ringmaster being weighed further down to the ground by a large purple robe. Jax would snicker and nudge Kinger, but the chess piece would never be listening, his eyes trained solely on the main thing that made his digital life worth living.

[little-emerald-snake]

Cozy nights in - Sebastian Sallow X Ominis Gaunt X GN!MC

A fluffy lil thing I wrote on the spot because everything in my life is testing me and I needed some small comforts 💚

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, this is just an adorable fluff piece for our favorite trio so it’s pretty SFW

Sebastian chuckled from where he sat on the counter watching his best friends in the kitchen. Their third was currently tying a frilly blue apron onto a protesting, red cheeked Ominis. “Don't be silly! There must be another apron, at least switch with me…there’s no frills on yours. You’re doing this to make a mockery of me, aren’t you?”

They chuckled. “Maybe a little. But really I just need your help and Sebastian is absolute shit at baking.” They finished the ties on Ominis’ apron before handing him a flour sifter and arranging him in front of the freshly cleaned counter. “Alright now just layer a nice even dusting across the counter by turning that crank.”

Ominis grumbled but began turning the crank, moving his body to make sure he covered the appropriate area of the counter. “You do remember I’m BLIND right?”

They waved him off as he set the sifter aside and let them toss the dough down in front of him. “And you’re still more competent than Mr snores-a-lot. So hush.”

The third moved to Ominis’ side, grabbing the sifter and adding just a bit more flour while Sebastian half heartedly argued from where he sat leaned back against the cabinet. “Rude. At least I don’t hog the blankets like someone.”

Ominis scoffed and set about kneading the dough and integrating the flour so it didn’t stick to the surface. Once satisfied he took the rolling pin and began to roll, stopping and adding more flour as needed to prevent sticking. “Do you two ever stop bickering about each other? I swear to Merlin there can’t be a moment of peace in this cottage.”

The guilty parties chuckled while their third set about chopping ingredients for the ‘pizza’. Ominis rolled the dough into the best circle he could make and Sebastian ‘supervising’ as he drank from his afternoon mug of coffee, a habit one of them hated, but allowed anyway since Ominis was more than pleased to have afternoon tea with them.

They turned and beamed at the wonky circle of dough Ominis had rolled, pleased with its thickness. They carefully brought the pot of garlicky-smelling tomato sauce, spreading it liberally before setting the tray of toppings beside it and letting them all decorate their own portion with what they desired.

They’d passed the time it spent baking in the oven, tortured by the mouth watering scent and taking turns playing chess. Sebastian grumbled. “This is ridiculous, you both are far too good at this game. I give up. I’m going to go make a drink, would either of you care to join in?”

They both passed, content with the freshly made ice cold lemonade they’d prepared that morning in nearly the same fashion as the pizza fiasco.

They’d ended the night in front of the fire in a cozy dog pile, sipping the remnants of watered down lemonade, full of homemade pizza and listening to Sebastian, who had a gentle buzz, read his current adventure novel for them.

[ghoularaki]

you ddon't have to do this at all but I wanted to ask for villain Deku hc/scenarios because I really love your fic "the lonely district"

i am so sorry this took forever and i'm so glad you liked it!!

tw: yandere! midoriya, stalking

first off, midoriya did not mean to go missing the day bakugou was attacked by the slime monster. it was pure coincidence. after being completely and utterly humiliated after being rejected by all might, he frankly lost all his will to live.

standing on the edge of a building just as bakugou told him to, he really contemplated ending it then and there. from a distance he watched to world move on without him. no one would miss him if he was go besides his mother and maybe you, but you had kacchan so you'll be okay.

just as he was about to end it all, a voice called out to him.

"you hate them too, huh?"

turning around he saw a boy a few years old than him, eyes and neck covered in scars. his scratchy voice beckoned him like a siren call. "you hate how the heroes and all their stupid worshippers never get their just desserts."

usually midoriya would refute. he loved heroes, he loved quirks, but for once in his life he voiced his deepest, darkest thoughts. "yeah i do."

then and there shigaraki made a deal with midoriya, join him and his cause and they can reap the benefits of the new society they create, devoid of heroes and were villains get their comeuppance. he introduced midoriya to afo and told him about his... situation. ever the benevolent man, afo offered midoriya a quirk as long as he stood by shigaraki.

midoriya rapidly agreed. he would honestly agree to anything to get a quirk—liking shigaraki was a bonus. so afo handed him a very simple quirk, a subtle one so midoriya could stay under the radar.

he was gifted heightened senses. his hearing was decibels beyond a human's capabilities. he could see farther and in the dark, he could smell something from miles away. he could almost taste the chemical makeup of anything he consumed. he was stronger and faster than ever before. and most importantly his intuition had developed so much he could predict anyone's movements. people became mere chess boards pieces, only able to move in certain spots.

as he gained his power and developed it until it was his own through painstaking trial and error, he sulked in the shadows never once leaving bakugou and most importantly, you.

he watched you closely as you slowly lost your mind from his disappearance. he watched outside your window the first couple of weeks as you did anything you could to find him. if only you knew he was right outside. you watched you blossom into the hero you are today.

his glowing eyes saw it all. how you forced yourself into the darkness over and over. shrouded in fear, vomit pouring from your lips as you tried to control your quirk. how you strived to become a hero so you could be strong enough one day to save people like him and bakugou.

it was admirable, but sickeningly naive. as the months passed, he grew to hate you too.

so when the league of villains first attacked, he relentlessly targeted you. the hope in your eyes quickly diminishing into confusion, he drank it up. you never once fought him, you ran away any chance you could. you refused to fight him. at first he took it as an insult. do you see him as weak? not good enough to give the time of day now. but he soon realized, no, you were the weak one.

as bakugou swooped in to save the day, he let him. he would get his revenge soon enough.

midoriya didn't really care when the league dissolved and he was left on his own. after a while he didn't care for afo's plans anymore. all he wanted was bakugo and you.

the years truly made him grow fonder. he didn't check on bakugou as much as he did you. midoriya knew to be weary of the man. he wasn't as rash as he was as children. his intuition could be compared to his and it set him on edge. bakugou was to perceptive for his own good.

but you, oh sweet you. you hadn't changed much. you still carried that naivety to you. despite all you had gone through, you still saw the best in everyone especially bakugou. for some reason you two never once left each other, like two binary stars, chaotically swirling around until the one would eventually consume the other.

in private, you two would be attached to the hip, but oddly any time you were put on missions together it was like dogs and cats fighting. for once, midoriya would see that feisty side you never showed him.

since he was on the run, dipping in and out of areas to avoid being sent to tartarus, he frequented your apartment. you were rarely home. so on difficult days when he knew you weren't home, he would crash on your mattress.

he knew you feared him. it wasn't hard to tell with how you actively avoided any area he was spotted in and actively dreaded having to check it out with bakugou. but it almost seemed you didn't want to find him, not out of fear for yourself, but for him.

though the glimpses he got of you and not being able to touch you started to get to him. he couldn't take it anymore. he longed for since you were children, and though the love had no longer been pure, he didn't care.

he would destroy you until you were his and he wouldn't mind taking bakugou along with you.

[readychilledwine]

Pressure

A/n: this was heavily inspired by this post

Amelia is one of my favorite ocs I have trapped in the writing world I keep under lock and key. She is one of my Archeron sister characters that I decided was the perfect firey match to Eris. In this little snippet of their lives together, she's just finally had it. Maybe someday, I'll be brave enough to bring their full story into light.

Warnings - mentions of smut, a lot of vulgar language, implied mental breakdown, alcohol use as a coping mechanism, Beron Vanserra is mentioned, and a lack of editing.

Amelia was just done.

Between the constant pressure of being the dutiful wife of the future High Lord of Autumn, the sister of the High Lady of Night, and Beron's new favorite toy to fuck with, she had finally had it.

Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She had attempted to hide it in a messy bun, but it was no use. The blonde mess of curls had officially taken on a mind of its own.

She knew her makeup was smudged, but she could not find the energy to care. Exhaustion had won today. Hence, the two steaming cups of coffee she was double fisting like Cassian at Rita's. Black mascara and eyeliner caused her already tired eyes to look even worse.

She had not even bothered to change since her 4pm breakdown in the dog kennels. She was covered in fur and the lingering scent of hounds. She knew she should bathe, make herself presentable before Eris got to their chambers, but she just genuinely did not care anymore.

She had lost herself in this game of High Lord manipulation and mental chess. It was a game she had never asked to play, and one she was sure would be the death of her if Eris did not off his father soon.

She had loved to read before this all. But lately, she never had time, and when she did, the book quickly found its way into her "rainy day reattempt later" pile. She was trying to distract herself with another attempt at a book tonight, though.

She thought maybe a different genre would help. She had taken Azriel's recommendation in a psychological horror novel, and just found herself laughing at the poor build up, the half effort descriptions, and the ever growing plot holes.

"I fucking quit," she tossed her book to the side, sipping on the warm bitter liquid as she stared into the fire.

"My spark," the deep honeyed voice of her mate reached her ears. "Amelia, baby, what's wrong?"

"Fuck you and fuck this place." Eris chuckled at her response before sitting on the couch near her spot on the floor. "Fuck the games. The court systems. The High Lords. Fuck the fae. Fuck being fae. Fuck all of you."

She took another deep sip of her coffee nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Eris could feel her through the bond. He could feel her love for him, but it was weighed down heavily by her anger, frustration, and exhaustion.

"Tell me more," Eris leaned his elbows onto his knees. He was allowing his wife, his mate, this one moment of anger. He knew this dance all too well, and he could tell she needed to have this moment.

"I really fucking hate that prick your dad has in charge of the libraries. He's a condescending piece of pond scum, and I will dance near his pyre one of these days," Eris felt his eyes go wide, covering his mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape.

Amelia continued after sipping her coffee. "I hate your father, too, actually." She paused, switching to sip the coffee she had secretly added Eris's whiskey into. "Do you know what that fucker said to me today?"

Eris smirked. "Tell me what he said, my love."

"That fucker said to me I was failing at my duties as a wife since we do not have a child yet. He told me to fuck you more and learn my place."

Eris was frozen as he watched her drink the coffee he could smell liquor radiating from again. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you've never once complained about how I perform my wifely duties when your cock is in my mouth. That shut him up real fuckin fast. Fucking asshole."

Eris took in Amelia's appearance for the first time. Her heavy eyelids. Her chapped lips. Her messy hair and disheveled clothing. She had not bathed today, and he knew she had not slept last night. He took in the look of despair etching deeper into her face as she drank. The stack of books tossed onto the ground without care.

"I think we need a vacation, my love." Eris's voice was soft as he moved to sit on the ground with his mate. "Maybe I should send a message to Kal. We could go to Winter for a little-"

"Fuck. The. High. Lords. Fuck the games. Fuck the song and dance. If we're going to be putting on a show, it may as well be in this fucking hellhole."

Eris paused. Any trip to another court would involve Amelia and him playing the same roles they were in daily. The ones she clearly had enough of. There were few places he would be able to take her to get away from all of this, and he knew of a perfect one.

"How about the cabin?"

He watched as her breath hitched. Her eyes peeked over to him before refocusing on the hearth. They had not been to the cabin since their mating ceremony. It had been two months of them alone. Two months of love, sex, and silence.

"No duties. No High Lords. No masks. Just you, me, and the hounds." He kissed below her ear. "Just us. All alone. Up in the Autumn mountains. Where you can scream as loud as you like. Curse as loudly as you like." Another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck.

"Just us?"

He nodded as he caged her between him and the couch. Straddling her thighs with his knees so she could not escape.

"Just us, our hounds, and that wicked mouth of yours."

"Take me," she whispered to Eris, her blue eyes sparkling for the first time tonight. "Take me please."

"I intend to," Eris nipped her nose, grabbing her small hand in his as she went to smack his chest. "If you go take a bath."

Amelia shut her eyes before chuckling. "Fuck you."

Eris smiled gently down at her. "And you'll get to. After your bath. Come my spark, we will bathe together and plan our trip."

[yuurei20]

Hello, Yuurei. I read your reply to the previous ask regarding Rook, and I wasn't able to recall when it has been said that him, Kalim and Silver are light-magic users. Could you please point me out which chapters of Main Story/Events/Vignettes I should reread to refresh my mind? Thank you in advance!

Thank you so, so much for this ask! It had never occurred to me that no one has ever commented in-game on Rook, Silver and Kalim's form of magic in the game, but just as you say, I don't think they have: they are called the 光属性三銃士 on JP (something like "light attribute three musketeers"), but this is a fan-term created by the community and not officially confirmed at all!

(Graphic above provided just as an example of what inspired the discourse of Silver, Kalim and Rook being "light magic" users: they are the only three people we have seen in the game--including those outside of the main cast--who do not use the black/purple cosmic magic (RSA students' magic still unconfirmed as of this post).)

It is really more of a theory than anything, and I regret very much presenting it as fact; I will be more careful with phrasing in the future, and thank you so much for pointing this out!

While searching around for other theories and connections, I found an interesting idea on Reddit (referenced with permission):

We know that Leona can canonically smell magic, and he may be the only character capable of doing so.

And part of the loop theory involves the three white chess pieces in Leona's room. Is it possible that there might be something different about the three musketeers' magic, and Leona is aware to some degree?

It is all conjecture and theory at this point with nothing confirmed via in-game dialogue, but it is most interesting to think about!

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet. 

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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[dragon-creates]

Royally Screwed!

Prince Jax of the Kingdom of Laphria was…well, he was a jackass. He kept pranking the servants, threw the wildest parties within the castle and always kept trying to run away from his duties. King Kaleb and his wise Queen Quinn were at their limit, hoping for something to turn their son’s head around. Their prayers were answered when a traveling circus visits the kingdom, including a talented jester named Pomni. Jax’s breath was taken the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that no matter what, he had to have her. It would be a lot easier though if she didn’t hate his guts.

Read on AO3

1/2/3/4/5

we have a new fic!!! this might not be part 2 of 5+1 but think of this as a little treat until that comes out in the new year. truth be told, this au already had a life of its own before I started writing, artiesrump on twitter came up with the idea on one of their posts and then allhailthequeenuwu continued with making some awesome concept art for it. one thing led to another and I started planning this out during writing the last chapter of 5+1 and here's the first chapter! I really hope you guys enjoy this cause this au is gonna be a lot of fun!

Nothing You Can Take From Me

The kingdom of Laphria.

It was a place of peace and prosperity. Home to beautiful rolling fields and meadows, a sanctuary to its residents and weary travellers and cherished each time the sun and moon would rise, for it was the sign that another beautiful day was upon them. This land was ruled none other than the beloved King Kaleb and his wife Queen Quinn. A couple with the kindest hearts that anyone had ever seen, and I love so strong that it could be seen from oceans away.

Truly, Laphria was perfect…apart from-

“That’s it! I’ve had it!”

The bedroom door of the king and queen’s bedroom slammed open, with the two-chess piece’s rubbing sleep from their bleary eyes as a maid with rubber skin and pink hair stormed in, covered from head to toe in confetti and leftover pudding.

“Oh dear,” once they king’s eyes were focused, he realised the state that the maid was in, “Another party?”

“Yes!” she snapped as a few other servants came in behind her, all covered in the same mess as she was. “How did he make it worse than the last one?! There were spiders in the chandeliers your majesty. Spiders! What kind of party does the prince need that involves spiders?!”

“Well that’s definitely new,” the queen mumbled, not pleased with this at all. She turned to her husband, “I believe we owe our son a chat darling.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, “That boy needs his head screwed tighter before someone knocks it off if he’s behaving this recklessly.”

They threw their comforters off, with the servants and two stationed guards following behind as the couple trekked to their son’s room.

When they arrived at the prince’s room, they had hoped to find a lazy lump of purple fur within the blankets and sheets of the bed. However it seemed that Prince had different ideas. The sheets were still there, only they were tied together into a rope and thrown out his open window.

“Oh no,” the queen groaned as her husband facepalmed. “Not again.”

From a small distance they could hear the boyish and cheerful whoops of a young man along with the stomping hoofs of a horse running further away from the castle.

“Guards!” the king spoke up, alerting the two next to him. “Gather a search party and go after him, I’ll save the chat for when he gets back.”

“Yes your highness,” the wooden toy soldiers chorused, saluting their king before running off.

The king groaned, “Why did the lord make our son so difficult?”

.

.

.

The air, oh just smell that fresh air! That party last night was the perfect distraction for him to get out of there. And the spiders! That was so much better than the centipede trick he pulled last time! And now he was out of the castle, away from his parents pestering him and the servants eyeing his every move. No lessons, no fencing and best of all, no responsibilities. Just him and his freedom.

He eyed the sun rising from across the field, he had been out for a good few hours, making the guards lose their trail of him was the highlight of his morning. Anyway, now was not the time to think about that. He was free to do anything he wanted right now, what should be the first thing he could do? There was the bakery down the street, he could snatch a few loafs down there. Or maybe he could go the seamstress down the street and see if her daughter wanted to ‘spend some time with him' and maybe buy a new dress for his sweet mother. Wait, no, he had a better idea! The firework shop down the street, those would be perfect to create a little show for everyone! Oh this was going to be perfect!

He took off again, lifting up the hood of his cloak over his head to conceal his identity. Once he arrived in the village, he took his horse into a spare stable and kept him there before making his way to the shop. He was able to sneak in and out thanks to his combat training (and he begrudgingly left a few coins behind because damn his lovely mother and her teachings of morals).

He ran to the village centre, laying the fireworks in an upwards motion before striking a match and running into the nearest alleyway to watch the show go down.

3

2

1

Boom!

The confused and petrified screams of the villagers were nothing but melodies in his ears. He couldn’t hold back his cackles as some ducked for cover at the loud boom, others had dropped their shopping and started sobbing, some even jumped at least ten feet into the air and landed on the rooftops. An obnoxiously loud snicker escaped him when a spare firework failed to soar into the sky like its siblings, instead it chased someone around until he fell to the ground and it smashed into a shop window. Truly, this was the best morning he had in a while.

His fun was ruined however when the familiar sound of clanking armour and huffs of horses made him snap out of his trance. The castle guards were coming, great. And that little light show was definitely a massive help for them to find him. Only Prince Jax of Laphria could pull off a stunt like that. He didn’t want to be caught, not yet anyway. He wanted to have a little bit more fun before going back to his gilded cage. There was a pile of crates and an old market stall with the cover still on top, if he could climb on those and blend into the shadows of the walls, he could be able to hide until the guards leave. Hehe, Jax you are an absolute genius he smugly thought to himself.

And so he did just that, he climbed on the crates, jumped on the old stall and grabbed the edge of the roof while resting his feet on the side of the wall. Hidden within the shadows and from the guards. He was truly too smart for his own good. But just before he could properly pat himself on the back, there was a tiny meow above him.

He looked up, and right next to his hand gripping the roof was a small brown tabby kitten.

Mew

“Uh, hi?” The prince gave him an awkward wave.

Mew!

Jack cringed, that was a little bit too loud. The last thing he needed was to be outed to the guards by a tiny round ball of fluff. “Keep it down, would ya!” he hissed at the kitten, “You’re gonna blow my cover!”

The kitten tilted his small head, turning to look at the guards and then back to Jax. The prince sighed in relief when he kept quiet, returning his focus to the soldiers when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He whipped his head back round to see to kitten pulling at the cuff of the fabric with its teeth. “Hey, hey! Quit it!” he tried to shove him away with his free hand, but the feline had a tight grip and refused to let go.

Jax bit his lip, trying to keep an eye of the search party. There was no way he was going to get found out because of a stupid stray cat!

He let out a yelp when he felt a paw swipe at his hand, along with a hint of claws. Now the kitten thought his hand was a toy, and that this little interaction of theirs was now a game. “No, no!” Jax pushed him away again, but the feline just kept coming back with his claws now fully out and leaving little scars on the prince’s hand. “Piss off!”

The kitten pulled back, Jax swore he was literally glaring at him. He gulped when the kitten leaned back on his haunches and wiggled his tail as though he were a little lion hunting his prey. “Don’t you dare,” Jax growled.

…mew

The feline wasn’t put off by the empty threat however, launching himself onto Jax’s hand, biting and scratching as though his hand were nothing more than a scratch post. “AAAHHH YOU LITTLE-” he cried out in pain as he let go the ledge to escape the attack on his fingers, unfortunately that action sent him face first in the pile of crates – which were filled to the brim with grapes, soiling his clothes.

The guards turned at the sudden noise, only to see their prince covered in purple stains and looking as if he emerged from the greatest battle of his life.

Jax lifted himself from the squashed fruit underneath him, cringing as he felt the fruit’s liquid seeped from his clothes and onto his fur. He dramatically groaned when the guards crowded him. “So, did you have fun with your wild goose chase?” he remarked at the soldiers glared at him.

.

.

.

Jax practically stomped throughout the castle as the guards guided him to the throne room, there was no doubt that his parents wanted to have some colourful words with him about the recent stunts he pulled.

The doors of the throne opened, revealing a disgruntled King Kaleb and a disappointed Queen Quinn. Jax winced, he could tell that he was in for an earful.

“You! Young man,” Kaleb got off from his throne and descended down the steps below it, “You are restricted to the castle grounds. Until I give my word, you are forbidden to step one foot out of these walls unless you have my permission.”

“Or what?” Jax rolled his eyes as he plopped onto the last step, slouching in an un-princely manner. “Are you gonna force me to play a metaphorical game of chess and how ‘my attitude is a disgrace to the people of our kingdom and it somehow represents the chess pieces’ of the game and all that other shit.”

“Don’t mock me Jax,” Kaleb grumbled, making his way closer to his son. “You are the crown prince and heir to Laphria, you must treat your role with respect!”  

Jax turned suddenly, glaring at his father, “It’s also my life and I should have the freedom to do what I want with it.”

The king was about to say another word, a slight growl leaving his throat before he was stopped by his wife’s voice.

“Kabel, please sit down. The last thing we need is for you to have a stroke.” Quinn stood and made her way towards the two men. “Jax, you were born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations. You are an important figure to our people, one day the crown will go to you. You have to know what it truly means to be leader. But first, you have to accept the responsibility that comes with it, not just as a royal, but as one of your people.”

Jax sighed, he could deal with his father giving him lectures (it was rather funny seeing the old chess piece get riled up), but his mother was an entirely different story. If the rest of the world was cold stone, Quinn was a diamond. His father was a good man, kind and caring to his son while teaching him everything to know about the kingdom’s past present and future, but Quinn was always there to hold him whenever he was sad, help him with a hard lesson when he got to frustrated if he didn’t know the answer, taught him the values of human kindness even if the world kept spitting it back out. Just seeing that look on her face, knowing he did the complete opposite of what she taught him, it felt as though he were carrying the worst plague known to man.

“Forgive me mother, but shouldn’t I be the one to carry out how I choose to live my life than be restricted with what I’m expected to pick and choose?” he stood, facing Quinn. “And have you ever considered that perhaps I’m not worthy to be given the crown?”

“No, I don’t,” Quinn admitted. “A normal person who wasn’t worthy would not be trying so hard to fail.”

Shit. His mother always read him like an open book.  “And what are you gonna do to stop me?” he retorted, trying to reel himself back in order to save whatever natural charm he had left.

“I will simply deny you the crown and…um, live forever!” Kaleb declared, his wife shaking her head at his ridiculous outburst.

“Finally,” Jax cheered, clapping his hands. “Thank you father. Now there’s something we can both agree on.”

Kaleb grumbled under his breath as his sudden mistake, letting his pride getting in the way of his logic were incidents that happened on the odd occasion, but it still meant that they did happen despite the rareness of it. Surprise, surprise, it was caused by his son. “You’re dismissed,” Kaleb waved his hand, “Take this time to at least attempt to reflect back on your actions.”

“No can do,” Jax bowed mockingly before the guards came back in to escort him to his room.

Once their son was gone and the doors were shut did Quinn turn back to her husband, “Seriously? Telling our son – who is doing everything in his path to avoid responsibility – that you’re going to not make him king was your best idea?”

“I know, I know,” Kaleb sighed. “Our son has a talent for making me lose my head sometimes. I just…I’m at a loss here Queenie, I don’t know what to do.”

She took his hands in her when he said his nickname for her, a silent calling for help. “Kinger,” She replied with the nickname she had for him in return, “I know how you’re feeling. It’s hard seeing him act like this, but he can only be helped if he allows someone to do so. But I have a feeling that something will strike that boy with realisation soon. He’s a good man and will be a great leader someday. We just need to let him find his sense of self first.”

“I hope you’re right,” Kinger sighed, “I think Jax is making me age faster than I should be.”

Queenie let out a small laugh, “Don’t worry, you’re still that same young man I met by the lake at midnight.”

“I still remember it like it was yesterday,” he said, letting the memory play behind his eyes. “You looked so beautiful, and I kept getting tongue-tied trying to figure out what to say to you.”

“It was adorable though,” she cooed. “Just wait until Jax gets his head turned, that will certainly be fun to watch.”

“Huh, now there’s an interesting thought,” Kinger chuckled. “Our son tripping over his feet over a girl or boy.”

“Perhaps that will knock some sense into him,” Queenie suggested as she rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“Only time will tell my dear,” Kinger patted her hand, “Only time will tell.”

.

.

.

Jax slammed his door, throwing back the curtains of his canopy bed before dumping himself face first onto his bed, letting out a load groan into his pillow. He was almost free, almost able to do anything he wanted without fear of consequences. If it wasn’t for that puny little stray he wouldn’t have gotten caught. That’s it, he now deemed cats as the worst animal in the world.

And what his mother said?! ‘Trying too hard to fail?’ Oh please, why couldn’t his parents except that he just wasn’t fit to be king? It would save them all both stress and time. There were plenty of other worthy noble figures in the kingdom, just toss them the crown and everything will be fine! He flipped over in his bed and onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face. He may be stubborn, but he would be damned if he didn’t inherit it from his parents.

He jumped when he heard a faint scratching sound at the doors of his balcony. He turned slowly to see a small blob at the bottom of the door window. He got up from his bed, going over and opened the doors. His stomach sank, sitting right in front of him was the stupid kitten that got him into this mess. “Oh no!” he glared at the tiny feline, “Absolutely not! You can’t come here after backstabbing me like that.”

Mew

The kitten ignored him and pattered inside, roaming around the room and taking in his surroundings. “Hey, get out!” Jax chased after him and picked the cat up by the scruff of his neck. “Don’t walk around as if you own the place!”

Mew

“Oh I get it,” Jax scowled at him, “You think you can act all cute and get whatever you want after what you just did. Well guess what fleabag? That shit won’t work on me.”

Mew

The kitten gently pressed a paw on Jax’s cheek, no claws and no malice. Just a small kitten reaching out for some affection. A lonely tiny creature…scared a hungry…despite how feral it seemed at first, all it really wanted was warmth for another being. Jax shook his head, “Nope! You are not cute,” he pointed his finger to the feline, “You hear me you are not-”

The kitten gave his finger a little lick.

Mew

Jack exhaled slowly, “I’m not gonna win this one, aren’t I?” The kitten purred against his finger, with the rabbit giving him a scratch behind his ears. “Alright fine. If you stay here at least you won’t be terrorising anyone else. I’ll accept ‘responsibility’ or whatever it was mother said. See, I’m able to do that.”

Mew

Jax shifted the kitten, sliding an arm under his chest and held him with his hand. “You’re gonna need a name first. If you’re staying here, the staff is gonna need to know what to call you,” he took a good look at the brown tabby, thinking for a moment what the best name would be for a small little feline like this. “Hhmm. How about…Motley?” The kitten only titled its head in response, “Yup, you look like a Motley.”

Motley let out a meow, purring as the prince scratched behind his ear again. Jax grimaced as he noticed dirt under the kitten’s fur, he must’ve been on the streets for some time if that amount of dirt had built up. “But first, a bath,” he declared, “The last thing we need are your paws trailing mud everywhere. Just be lucky my mother didn’t catch you, the last time I did that was the first time I believed the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was about to become real.”

Motley went silent at that, seeming as he were choosing not to test if that were true or not with the queen. “Come on,” Jax carried him to the bathroom, “Time for a bath.”

The kitten let out a protesting mewl at that, Jax rolling his eyes. To be fair, he showed some resistance to baths when he was younger as well so he couldn’t fault Motley for that.

He stepped into the marbled bathroom and moved to the porcelain tub, turning on the water and testing the temperature before putting in the plug and plopping Motley down. The kitten was not happy at all with the sudden change, already hissing and clawing at Jax’s hands, trying to get out of the bathtub as the rabbit grimaced at the new scratches.

Yup, cats were just delightful.

.

.

.

Despite the gruelling process, he finally managed to get Motley clean. The kitten was glaring at him the whole time he was getting dried off. Honestly, Jax felt a little smug about it. Revenge for selling me out you little shit.

Although, there was something quite heartwarming about all of this once the kitten was dry. He lay on the mattress, nuzzling the soft blankets underneath him as he though it were the first time he rested on a bed. Fully trusting someone with his safety after a life on the streets.

Jax felt a smile on his lips, before shaking it off and picked up Motley under his chest again, “Come on. You can sleep later, let’s get some food in you first before my parents send the cavalry to my room just so I get to dinner.”

Mew

Motley seemed to like the sound of that, climbing up Jax’s arms and curled himself around the prince’s neck, with the rabbit automatically giving his head a scratch. “Yeah, yeah. Little attention whore.”

The cat didn’t seem to take notice of the prince’s comment, rubbing his face against the prince’s cheek (Jax was desperately trying not to coo at the adorableness of it all).

He made his way down the halls, not caring for the servants who stared at the new little creature round his shoulders. All he wanted was food and then sleep, maybe plan another escape plan if he had the energy for it. Finally, he made it to the dining room, his parents already waiting for him while chatting excitedly in hushed voices.

Now that intrigued Jax, not by much but still, “What are you two going on about?”

His parents turned at the sound of his voice, suddenly gawking at him as though he had grown a third head. “Uh…Jax?” Queenie spoke.

“What?” Jax placed a hand on his hip.

Kinger raised a finger to the feline, “Who is…um, your friend?”

Jax switched his gaze to Motley, the kitten staring at the two monarchs with wide eyes, “Oh him? This is Motley, he’s the worst thing in the world but I guess he’s my cat now. You don’t mind if he sticks around, would ya?”

“I-” Queenie was genuinely at a loss for words. Yes Jax had brought back to the castle much odder things – and people – but never once did she expect that he would bring back a kitten. “Well, he does look very sweet.”

“Here,” he lifted the cat off his neck and placed him down in his mother’s lap, “You can take him for a while, I need a minute to get away from the stench of kitten breath.”

The queen was about to say something to Jax, before Motley rubbed his head against her hand, silently requesting for her to pet him. “Oh,” Queenie cooed, unable to resist the small creature’s sweet eyes peering up at her as she ran her fingers down his back, “Well aren’t you adorable.”

“Adorably annoying,” Jax muttered under his breath.

“And yet you still chose to keep him,” Kinger retorted. He didn’t have a mouth, but if he did Jax swore he would definitely be smirking at him right now.

Jax scoffed at his father, pulling up a chair and immediately slumping once he sat down. The chef’s brought in the dishes and lifted up the lids to start serving the royal family their food consisting of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, freshly baked bread and a whole chicken - along with a little bowl of food for Motley once they heard about the surprise guest. As soon and Jax tucked into his meal, he turned back to his mother, “So, what were you two giggling about before I walked in?”

Queenie perked up at the mention, “I’m so glad you asked! There’s a travelling circus going around and is coming to visit our kingdom! There are lion tamers, tightrope walkers, even a contortionist!”

“Sound the same as every other circus,” Jax muttered as he played with his food.

“Your mother has been really excited for this,” Said Kinger, “Apparently they have a star performer that everyone is obsessed with.”

“Oh please,” Jax stabbed his fork into a carrot, “What could be so special about them that they’ve got everyone tripping over themselves for?”

“Word says that she has a special talent with magic tricks, so good that no one can tell how she pulled it off,” Queenie explained, “That and she has a beautiful singing voice.”

“So she can sing a little and show someone their spade card, so what?” Jax said, “Anyone will put a label on someone to promote something because they know it’s gonna attract an audience. Like dangling a toy in front of a cat…no offense Motley.”

Mew

“Regardless,” Queenie sighed, “As the royal family, we’ve agreed to watch them on opening night when they arrive. And you’re coming to Jax, no exceptions.”

“You’re kidding?” Jax groaned, slamming his fork onto his plate at his mother’s words.

“Please Jax,” Queenie’s eyes softened towards him, “I understand the apprehension, but this is something that I really want to do with us all together. Not just as an expectation of us as royals to see an event, but to spend time as a family to see a fun show. Please sweetheart, for me?”

Jax’s heart twisted at the look on his mother’s face. He sighed, he didn’t like putting on all this stress for his parents, for his mother took it harder the most. She saw so much good in him, so much faith in him in both as a prince and son. His father still expected more from him, but his mother – no matter how many times he was an absolute prick to her – always saw the best in Jax, somehow knowing that deep down there was that light that needed to be reached. It was annoying…but that was what he loved about his mother. He should at least to this for her, she’s been through enough as it was.

“Fine,” Jax sighed, picking up his cutlery today, “For you mother. But I’m bringing Motley too, he has to suffer with me.”

Mew

“I think I would enjoy his company very much,” Queenie nodded, petting the kitten, “After all, he’s part of the family now.”

“Oh, great,” Jax muttered, sipping some water.

“You’re the one who brought him home,” Kinger teased in a sing-song voice.

The prince scowled, muttering, “Shut up Dad.”

.

.

.

The theatre was packed. Anyone who was anyone in the kingdom had all been invited to see the travelling circus, but more so, they were curious about the star performer that no one could stop talking about. The whole theatre was built as a circle, for the audience to watch while a door on the far side of the circular ring was connected to what people theorised to be the tent.

The royal family had a special booth reserved only for them to oversee the show from the best angle, wearing their best attire and crowns. Jax slouched in his chair, ignoring his father’s bickering for him to sit up. He really didn’t want to be here, but his mother looked so excited. At least he brought Motley so that he was forced to indulge in the prince’s misery. Although he wouldn’t bet on the cat being that upset, after all he was well fed, groomed and sat on Jax’s lap to watch an amazing show.

“You’ll see Jax,” Queenie whispered to him amongst the chatter, “There’s gonna be something in this show that’ll leave you breathless.”

“If that happens, I’ll eat my crown,” he muttered, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kinger retorted, stifling his laughter at Jax’s annoyed expression.

The lights dimmed, spotlight centring the stage as the crowds went silent. Jax scoffed, everyone got excited way too easily over a room doing dark. He ran his hand over Motley’s head, the kitten’s eyes entranced by the bright colours. Honestly he should have expected it from him, he was a cat after all, you could swing a necklace in front of him and he would think it was the best thing in the world.

The drums rolled, and from the back of the set-up tent, a clown ran out onto stage. “Welcome one and all to our circus!” he bellowed, the crowd applauding madly in response. Jax clapped slowly in an unimpressed manner while Kinger and Queenie gave out a cheer. “My name is Kaufmo and I will both your ringmaster and clown for this evening! We have a very special line up for all you lovely folks! From lions! To tightropes! And our own special star that I know you’ve all been waiting for!”

The crowd went rapid at that sentence. Jax just scoffed, everyone was such a sheep these days.

“But I won’t keep you waiting any longer, let’s get right to the sho-woah!” Kaufmo suddenly slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel before landing face first into the ground, making the crowd erupt into laughter.

Really? Jax thought to himself, this is what gets people going?

“Oh, sorry ladies and gentlemen,” Kaufmo brushed himself off with a goofy smile, “But I’m sure we can move on from here.” As if timed perfectly, a bucket of water fell on his head, soaking him to the brim.

Jax sighed at the audience overexcitement of the shenanigans. “Everyone knows that this is rehearsed, right?” he whispered to his mother, “This is so cliché!”

“Oh shush,” Queenie waved a hand at him dismissively, “It’s funny Jax. Just have fun.”

Jax feel back into his seat, trying to seek an accomplice in Motley, but he seemed to be as addicted to this as the rest of the crowd.

The clown continued with that as his act, tripping and falling while telling jokes left and right at the same time. Jax found the whole thing pretentious, why was everyone acting like they hadn’t seen a clown before? Were they really that desperate for entertainment?

As soon as he finished with his act, a ragdoll with red hair wandered on stage, waving and smiling sweetly at the audience while carrying a couple of hoops over her shoulder. Kaufmo patted her on the shoulder as she set up the hoops before he went back into the exit of the tent. It seemed that the ragdoll seemed to be caught up with her setting up, for two lions prowled out with her back turned.

The crowd murmured as they stalked closer, sitting back on their haunches, ready to pounce. Everyone’s cries to the Ragdoll fell on deaf ears as she continued to hum and prepare. Suddenly, the lions pounced! The crowd screamed! The ragdoll whipped round, and raised both of her hands, placing it each on the lions’ noses respectively. The audience gasped. She moved, the lions going backwards with her as she led them to the corner of the ring.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out two strips of meat. “Stay,” she commanded, the lions obeying her word.

From the top of the ring, there were jumps set up, each one of them a different height and climbing up like a staircase on each side until meeting at the same height in the middle. Both lions went on each side of the steps, jumping and climbing until they reached the top. With a snap of a finger, the first lion jumped down, standing on all fours in a circle while the second lion jumped on its back, balancing there for a few seconds as the audience applauded.

But it wasn’t over yet, the second lion jumped down and both trotted and separated themselves to the two set up rings respectively. With another snap of her finger, both lions jumped through at the same time. Jax put his elbow on the arm of his throne, resting his cheek in his palm. Woah, animals jumping, so revolutionary. The ragdoll disappeared off stage for a moment, returning with a flaming torch as the audience murmured. Everyone faces dropped once they realised what the flame was for. Without sparing a moment, she lit both the rings on fire.

She snapped her finger, the lions ran, without a moment of hesitation, they jumped.

The crowds held their breathes, some even shutting their eyes out of fear.

Both lions came out unscathed and the fire went out. There was a beat, before the audience cheered and whistled and the ragdoll and lions bowed before going back off stage.

“That was incredible!” Queenie exclaimed, “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it!”

“Imagine the courage one must have for that!” Kinger agreed, “That young woman was fearless!”

Jax shook his head at his parents’ antics, “Oh come on! No one actually believed that they were gonna go on fire! There wouldn’t even be a circus at this point if that happened!”

“Jax, you have to admit that her skills were impressive,” Kinger pointed out.

“You’re just easily amused,” the prince huffed. Motley was kneading Jax’s trousers beneath his paws, copying how the lions kneaded the ground each time before they performed a trick. Jax patted his head, “Sorry to break it to ya buddy, but you’re only gonna be the size of a foot when you’re older. Might as well give up on those lion dreams of yours.”

Mew

Someone new came on, a pink and yellow amalgamation of parts who looked as though they were going to fall apart any minute. Their routine was simple enough, twisting and stretching their limbs in the most unbelievably flexible ways. The audience oo’ed and aa’ed at how far he could take it without even showing a wince on her face. 

“He’s cheating,” Jax muttered, “He can literally detach himself, it doesn’t count.”

This time it was Motley’s turn to shush him, swiping his paw at the prince’s shirt with a mewl. Jax pulled a face at the kitten but quieted down anyway.

Once the contortionist went back off stage, the lights started to go upwards, revealing a tightrope with two performers at the top. The first seemed to be a woman with the head of a Moon on her shoulders, while the other was a man around her age who shared the appearance of the Sun. Nodding to the Sun, the Moon began her routine. Tip toeing across the rope, seeming as though to fall off – to the audience’s collective shock – before breaking out into a pirouette, as though there wasn’t a fifty-foot drop beneath her.

The Sun started to do the same, spinning on one foot before both of them stopped at the same time. Both of them ran to the middle, taking one another’s hand before producing canes from their sides. The two began to perform a little tap dance on the rope, waving their canes around without a care in the world with grins on their faces. While the audience was losing their mind, Jax inspected his nails to make sure there wasn’t any dirt in them, far less interested than everyone else.

The Sun and Moon ran off back to the ends of each side of the rope, pulling out a unicycle and mounted them before cycling back onto the rope. They went back and forth, pulling out a few small balls from their waistcoats and began to juggle them,

Jax was sure he had read about this scene in a book before, nothing new here.

Finally, the duo finished and bowed for their cheers before running back off again.

The next act seemed to have the entire circus cast out, including a new member, a body of ribbons and a mask on her face. A few tables and chairs were set up as well as some sort of makeshift kitchen area. The ribbon girl seemed to be playing some sort of waitress, stumbling and shaking in an exaggerated manner. Jax groaned, realising that this was going to be a slapstick act, just great.

The act was predictable, a couple played by the ragdoll and clown were on a date, the sun and moon were bystanders and the contortionist was the owner of the pretend restaurant. The ‘waitress’ was attempting to get a meal out to the ‘couple’, but was constantly messing up. Whether it was tripping over a ‘customer’s’ foot, absentmindedly eating the food herself, even forgetting which table to bring the food to. Each mistake would lead her back to the start of her journey. It all escalated when she tripped one more time, bumping into the clown and making him get on one knee, as though he were proposing. The act ended with the ‘couple’ getting together, the other ‘customers’ being happy for them, even the ‘owner’ was happy for them and the ribbon lady keeping her fake job.

The crowd clapped again once the act was completed, Jax however felt as though he was about to fall asleep. At least there was only one act left and he would be down with this fiasco.

“Just you wait Jax,” Queenie leaned over to him, “I’ve heard far and wide that this star performer has entranced every audience she’s come across.”

“I for one am very excited,” Kinger said, “She must be very talented if she’s the most talked about.”

“As long as it’s the last act, then I’m fine,” Jax sank further in his chairs, Motley now sitting straight instead as he prepared himself for the final act.

What he didn’t know was said star performer was currently hiding within the shadow of the ceiling, taking a breath to calm her trembling nerves before she had to go on. She looked to Kaufmo within the tent, behind the scenes on the ground. He looked up to her, mouthing to her if she was okay. She nodded and closed her eyes, she could so this.

The lights dimmed one more time, as two red aerial silks fell from the roof. Jax’s eyes wondered to the top, a small trapeze swing between the two silks. He could barely see what was up there, there was a shape of a body but it wasn’t even visible. Why would anyone get excited over someone they couldn’t see-

-You can't take my past

You can't take my history

His ears perked. A voice rang out into the empty quiet like a melodic bell.

You could take my Pa

But his name's a mystery

It had to be the most beautiful thing he ever heard in his life. Soft and delicate yet commanded everyone’s attention, including his.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

Oh nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

The body stood, grabbing both silks in her hands and startled twirling down, the strum of a guitar started playing and the audience clapped along with the upbeat tempo. Once the lights shone on her, Jax stiffened, his voice caught in his throat and his heart started throbbing madly in his chest.

The woman holding and sitting on the silks was a jester, with short and shiny brown hair, mesmerising red and blue eyes, along with milky skin that seemed to be smooth to the touch. She wore a regular jester hat, only the bells were replaced with two gold spheres and wore a glittering red and yellow leotard with long sleeves instead of a usual get up he’d come to expect from that line of work.

And her voice, of her voice. How it charmed him, like a river, both calming yet ready to be powerful when needed. His lips began to quirk into a smile as his foot involuntarily tapped along with the music.

You can't take my charm!

You can't take my humour

You can't take my wealth

Cause it's just a rumour!

Putting her body weight into one of the silks, she let go of the other one and started to swing round the ring, putting out her hand to the audience as they tried to reach her. Once the silk slowed, she used her other hand to grab it and twirled upside down as she kept singing.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

Oh nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

She lifted herself up, twisting the ribbon until she was in a sitting position one knee up to her chest and her other leg pointed out.

Thinking you're so fine

Thinking you can have mine

Thinking you're in control

Thinking you'll change me

Maybe rearrange me

Think again if that's your goal!

She uncurled the silk, twirling back down to the ground in a graceful manner until her feet hit the ground and she faced the crowd. The audience went wild, shaking one another in their seats as the jester continued to dance. Jax found himself cheering along as well.

Queenie took a moment to look at her son, bewildered by the fact that he began to enjoy himself. Sure the act was amazing, but there was something else about him. His posture became more relaxed, his smile seemed to be genuinely happy and free of malice, and his eyes were locked in and focused on the jester…wait a minute. She looked back to the jester and then back at Jax before letting out a gasp of realisation.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” Kinger asked, worry lacing in tone for his wife.

“Nothing, nothing my dear,” she reassured him, “I think our son is in love.”

The jester stopped for a moment, bringing her bare feet together before lifting a hand again. She waved it around her head, a navy night blue mist appearing from it. Just like lightening, she vanished!

The crowd and Jax gasped, whipping their heads round to find where she could have gone.

Cause you can't take my sass

You can't take my talking

They followed her voice and found her in the right corner of the ring, continued her song with her harmonic voice. She waved her hand and disappeared again. This time, appearing in the royal family’s booth. Both Queenie and Kinger exclaimed in surprise and delight.

The jester made her way towards Jax, reaching out to him. His pulse thundered in his ears and heat began to rise to his cheeks. To his shock, she pulled her crown over his eyes and disappeared again, making Jax snap up and push his crown back as he tried to look for her again.

You can kiss my ass!

Then keep on walking

She was back in the middle of the ring, strutting as if nothing has happened. She waved her hand one more time, making the silks levitate on their own, surrounded by the blue mist as they neared her.

… Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

Oh nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

As they travelled slowly, the red silks slowly faded into the same colour as her mist, the crowd awing at the trick. Jax noticed her leotard and hat doing the same, the yellow and red disappearing, replacing it with a diamond-sequined deep blue with spaghetti straps instead.

No sir, nothing you can take from me is worth dirt

Take it cause I give it free, it won't hurt

She grabbed the silks again and lifted herself, twirling them around her until she was sitting on them like a swing.

… Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping

No nothing you can take was ever worth keeping

The music quickened as she climbed up the silks again, Jax’s eyes following her every move, too entranced to look away. Both she and the music got faster, climbing and climbing and climbing until she grabbed and pulled herself back onto the trapeze swing, saluted the audience – and with one more wave of her hand, sparks erupted from her place, dazzling the audience. Once they had faded, the crowd looked back. She was gone, as if she was never there in the first place with the silks returning to their original red colour.

There was a beat.

The audience stood, cheers and screams ripping from their throats as a thunder of applause ripped through the crowd. Jax couldn’t stand due to Motley in his lap, but he was still just as loud. Motley meanwhile was looking at him, titling his head from the prince’s reaction to the jester. It intrigued the little kitten to say the least.

The entire cast ran out, including the jester, giving one final bow as the crowds cheered louder before disappearing back into the tent.

The lights went back on as everyone began to murmur and whisper to one another about how amazing the show was. Jax was left awestruck, frozen in his chair, unable to process the complete and utter dazzlement that was the singing jester.

“I take it my son has a crown he has to eat now,” Kinger chuckled, brushing his robe a little bit.

Jax didn’t reply, still stuck in his own head.

“Jax, are you alright?” Queenie asked, getting a bit worried.

“That jester…” he breathed.

Oh, now Queenie understood, her suspicions being confirmed. “I see,” she nodded slowly, “I take it you like her?”

Jax turned his head so fast that he nearly got whiplash. “Like her?” he questioned his mother, “She’s incredible! Her voice! Did you hear her voice?! It’s not like anything that I’ve heard, and the fact that she can sing while doing all that in the air! And her magic tricks! Oh mother, she was amazing!”

He caught himself when he saw both his mother and father raising both their brows at him. He decided to save himself further embarrassment, he already knew that they would tease him about this enough as it is. An idea went off in his head. The circus had a while before they went back to whatever inn they were staying at to rest, perhaps he could pay the little jester a visit before he left.

“You guys hold onto Motley for a while,” he stood, picking up the kitten as he mewled while being placed in his mother’s arms. “I’m gonna go give that jester my congratulations.”

“Uh, Jax?” Queenie said, but Jax was already running out of the booth, “Jax!”

“Oh dear,” Kinger muttered, “I believe we made a mistake.”

.

.

.

Pomni sighed with relief, her blue leotard reverting back to its yellow and red while talking off her hat as soon as she was back behind the scenes, everyone hugging one another and giving each other high fives.

“You guys did great!” Kaufmo grinned, “I’m so impressed of how are far you’ve all have come!”

“Not bad for opening night,” Zooble placed a hand on his hip, “Although I think most of it is owed to Gangle and her creative skit idea.” She gave the woman a wink, the ribboned woman blushing at her partner.

“Zooble,” she giggled as they pulled her close, “You were great too.”

“Being out there has never made me feel so alive,” Moon let out a relaxed breath, recalling the euphoria of being on the tightrope.

“I agree!” Sun beamed, practically jumping up and down with joy, “It was spectacular, amazing, show-stopping, fantastic, spectacular- oops, I said that already, didn’t I?” He rubbed his neck bashfully.

“Don’t worry about it Sun,” Ragatha patted his shoulder, using her other hand to pet her lions. “However I can’t deny that Pomni stole the show, as she always does.”

Pomni gave her a shy smile, shuffling her feet a bit, “Stop, you’ll make me flustered.”

“Because its true!” Ragatha exclaimed, the rest of the cast nodding their heads in agreement, “You’re a stable of this show!”

“A true star, and trust me, I know a lot about them,” Moon gave her an amused look.

“You were like a million stars at once!” Sun cried, “Though if you think about it, stars are also suns, so you were like a million suns! Wow!”

“I mean, I agree…I still liked Gangle the best though,” Zooble murmured.

“I always love hearing you sing Pomni,” Gangle took her hand, “You have the voice of an angel.”

Kaufmo came up and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I for one couldn’t be prouder.” He gave it a reassuring squeeze, with Pomni placing her hand on his.

“Thanks Kaufmo,” she smiled back.

“How are you doing kiddo?” he asked softly, “I saw you shaking up there before you went on. Did you have those nightmares again?”

Pomni paled. It was quite jarring how easily he could read her. Kaufmo had been her rock since day one after all, he knew better than anyone when she had hard nights. She opened her mouth to answer when someone barged into the room.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cast of the show,” Prince Jax jeered, making himself at home, “Don’t mind me, I just wanted to thank you guys for an awesome show. Especially you little lady.” He winked at Pomni.

Pomni choked, why on earth was the prince waltzing in here unannounced? Didn’t he have princely duties to attend to? And why the hell was he calling her little lady?!

“Oh well, that’s very kind of you-” Gangle began to walk up to him but was pushed aside by him and she fell right into Zooble’s arms.

“Hey!” Zooble snarled, checking Gangle for any injuries. “What’s your problem?!”

“Excuse me,” Ragatha placed a hand on her hip, “You can’t just do that to one of our own. Not when we travelled all the way here to put on a show for you and your kingdom!”

“Look doll-face, I didn’t ask for you to be here,” he sneered, before turning his gaze back to Pomni. “Not that I’m complaining though.”

Pomni scoffed, gaping as she looked to Moon and Sun, the former of the duo looking furious. “I have the right mind to drag you out by the ears of you don’t apologize to Gangle right now,” Moon hissed.

Sun gulped, hiding behind his twin sister.

Ragatha’s lions had even began to have enough of his presence, growling and baring their teeth at him as he backed away slowly.

“Now, now,” he tsked, “We don’t want the crown prince of Laphria to go back out with his handsome face all mangled, now do we?”

Everyone’s faces fell. He was right, one wrong move and they’d all be imprisoned.

“All I want is to speak to your little jester here, is that such a crime?” he pouted.

They all turned to Pomni, awaiting her decision on what to do with this situation. “Kiddo, Pomni, you don’t have to do anything he tells you to do,” Kaufmo reassured her.

“Don’t worry Pa,” she said, a little nickname that she saved just for him, “I got this.”

Kaufmo’s eyes flickered to Jax, glaring at him before going back to Pomni. He smiled at her and let her continue.

Pomni walked to Jax, the prince was already acting smug about it too. “So, Prince Jax of Laphria,” she raised a brow at him, “In the flesh.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he grinned, it seemed to be starting off well. She looks even lovelier without her hat on.

“Oh I’ve heard of you,” Pomni confirmed, “You’ve got quite the reputation it seems.”

“All good things I bet,” The prince smirked, looming over her.

Pomni didn’t move a muscle, the height difference didn’t affect her for what she was going to say next. “Actually,” she began. “I heard you’re a no-good son of a bitch who spends his days disrespecting those who sacrifice their mornings and nights just to serve whatever little thing he wants.”

Jax’s eyes widened, this was not how he thought this was going to go.

“Awful to the people who not only rule this kingdom but spent every day of their lives raising you just for you to turn out to be a jerk,” Pomni continued to list it off.

Jax was going to admit it, that one stung a little.

“You embarrass those you deem beneath you and refuse to take responsibility when their reputation is ruined because of your words and actions!” she scowled.

Okay yeah, he’ll admit it, he took that one a little too far.

“You cause destruction and mayhem in your own home with the worst of the upper class because you feel like it!” another flaw she pointed out. “And what was your most recent one? Let me think. Oh yeah, you set off fireworks and nearly set fire to a village you’re going to rule over one day!”

Jax rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Word really got round fast about that, huh?

“So excuse me your royal highness, but I would like nothing for you to leave this tent and never step ten feet toward me again,” she gave him an exaggerated bow, still glaring at him. “Now if you don’t mind, leave!”

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be faced with the glares of a protective clown, a ragdoll with a knife, a Moon holding a noose and two lions looking at their next meal. Yup time for him to leave.

Pomni sighed with relief the moment he left. She didn’t think she would have the courage to stand up to someone as important as the prince like that, but she was glad she did. Everyone patted her on the back, impressed with her accomplishment as well, including Kaufmo. “Great job kiddo,” He murmured.

Pomni smiled warmly, “Thanks Pa.”

.

.

.

Jax walked out the tent, meeting the dissatisfied looks on his parent’s faces. “Well, we did try to warn you,” Queenie muttered, handing him back Motley, “But I’m afraid this is one of those cases where your heart is bigger than your brain.”

Motley mewled in seemingly agreement with the queen, rubbing his head against Jax’s palm so he could pet him.

“Let’s head back home,” said Kinger, taking Queenie’s hand lovingly before whispering in her ear. “I have a feeling that star performer won’t be leaving his head anytime soon.”

Queenie nodded subtly in agreement and the royal family headed out of the theatre.

During the carriage ride back, while petting Motley, Jax couldn’t stop thinking about that jester…no, Pomni was her name. That was what the clown said, right? The bite of her words, the ice within her eyes, the sharpness of her tone. All of it was meant to push him away…it was a good thing that Jax was determined and stupid.

He would show her that she wasn’t what she said he was! He’s a prince, he could do anything! He was going to shower her in the most lavish gifts known to man. Whether it be gowns, food, new equipment for her shows, anything! He was going to show her that he was worthy of her time.

In fact, he sure that be the end of the week, she would be fawning at his feet. Jax chuckled, he was way too good at this.

Motley could only watch in despair as his new master set himself up for failure.

Song Credit: Nothing You Can Take From Me by Rachel Zegler.

[may--hawk]

always crashing (in the same car)

always crashing (in the same car)

mayhawk

Summary:

During a fight with Aziraphale, Crowley pauses time and goes back to the Bentley to sleep it off (and come up with a really great comeback). When he wakes up the next morning, it’s still Wednesday. Again. Somehow, he’s gotten them stuck in a time loop. It’s Wednesday, every day. Great. Just great. (Aziraphale puts his book down and takes a big breath and Crowley comes to attention. “Do you ever think,” he says, and Crowley can tell he’s been thinking about this for a long time, for a whole Wednesday, at least. “Do you ever think that perhaps this is an opportunity to - to do whatever it is you wanted?”) Set between seasons 1 and 2, canon-compliant with season 2.

Rating: M

One Wednesday in May Crowley and Aziraphale have a nasty fight, because Aziraphale is stubborn and bullheaded and absolutely infuriating. It’s entirely Aziraphale’s fault, of course. Even though it’s been nearly a year since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t didn’t happen, and in that time, it’s been made crystal clear Heaven doesn’t want Aziraphale anymore,1 Aziraphale is still so concerned about what they might think. It chafes at Crowley like a poorly fitting hair-shirt.2 Crowley just wants Aziraphale to be his own angel, to think for himself. Crowley knows he does, somewhere in that fuzzy white head of his. He’s seen it hundreds of times. Like when they’d stopped Armageddon, together. Or when Aziraphale had given away his blasted sword all those years ago. It’s in there, the strong core of Aziraphale. He just won’t let it out. Which is where Crowley comes in.

They’d had a great evening. Crowley’s favorite kind of evening. One of the quiet ones, one of the - the them ones. Aziraphale had called him up around ten that morning and had said there was a new little sushi restaurant in Covent Garden he rather wanted to try, and was Crowley free that evening? Turned out, Crowley was. Crowley was pretty much free every evening. Unemployed and homeless, that’s what he was. Not that Aziraphale knew any of that. The restaurant had been a new one, blanketed with hanging plants dangling from the ceiling, creating a dense, thick green carpet. The lighting was dim enough to be comfortable and the wine decent enough, if it was improved with a miracle, and Aziraphale had actually moaned when he’d sampled his first piece of sashimi. Crowley had watched him fold a piece of sushi into his mouth, tongue first, and mused that, if he hadn’t thought it would’ve gotten dragged him down to Hell and punished, he could’ve suggested Hell add to their torture rosters.

Afterwards, Crowley drives Aziraphale back to the bookshop, and of course Aziraphale invites him in for another drink, and of course he accepts, because what else does he have to do for the rest of the evening? Find a new street to park the Bentley on until Aziraphale wants him again? Go to the park and hide in the bushes to hiss at unsuspecting couples?3 So he goes into the shop, and it’s as it always is, warmly lit, full of Aziraphale’s clutter and the smell of musty old books and Aziraphale, the angel’s scent swelling to fill the space like incense. It’s - cozy. Crowley drops to his place on the sofa, hollowed out over the years like an animal’s den to fit him perfectly, and if he happens to glance up and catch the faintest hint of a smile in Aziraphale’s eyes well, he doesn’t mention it and neither does the angel. They’re good at that, living in the margins. He had hoped that after they’d both been effectively fired, the two of them now firmly on their own side, he’d thought maybe Aziraphale would - well. No matter.4

So they start drinking, and Aziraphale pulls the chess board over and they play a few turns, but then they get distracted arguing about Sir Francis Dashwood, and somehow they get onto the topic of Heaven, and Crowley should know better, okay, he knows this is a fraught topic between the two of them, but there’s some infinitely stupid part of him - the part of him that’s always gotten him in trouble, the part that picks and picks at things, that wants to understand, to uncover - that doesn’t know when to let well enough alone.

Continue reading the first chapter at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55369603/chapters/140479633

[cosmic-comet-19]

The Stars to his Moon: Part 5

"...make sure you get Sirius' set, not mine..." the voice of James drifted after him. "Don't know why my bishops keep running away..."

Remus rolled his eyes, having volunteered to fetch a wizard chess set for James and Frank back down in the common room. The truth was, he wanted a ciggy in peace - he knew James couldn't stand the smell of them, so he took moments for himself every so often up in the dorm.

Casually pushing open the door, he spied Sirius' wizard chess perched on top of a precariously-stacked pile of books.

"Accio cigarette," he muttered, and a small tin box flew towards him from under his bed. Taking out two, Remys tucked one in his robes and one expertly between his lips.

"Want a light?" came a drawl beside him. Remus jumped, the fag almost falling from his lips.

Behind his curtain, Sirius sat crossed legged on Remus' bed. With a raised eyebrow, the latter twitched his own curtains open a few inches more.

"If you'd be so kind," he replied, curious. The Black heir clicked his fingers and the end of Remus' fag caught alight instantly. Taking a long drag, he fixed his eyes on Sirius, who suddenly avoided his gaze. Something crackled under Sirius' knee, and Remus waited, before clearing his throat.

"You ok?"

Barking out a laugh before he could stop himself, Sirius pulled out a quivering red letter, clearly desperate to be opened.

"My mother," Sirius explained unnecessarily, boredom masking the uncertainty in his voice. But Remus heard it all the same. Wordlessly, he flicked his wand toward the door, closing it softly. He met pale grey eyes, unknowingly betraying boyish fear so unlike the brash and confident flirt Remus knew.

"No way around it," he said steadfastly, and Remus shook his head.

"Ignore them. They don't know you."

"Remus-"

"They don't, Sirius! They are the worst excuse for parents I've heard of - and trust me, I've heard a lot."

Sirius sighed, then motioned to the cigarette Remus was intermittently puffing on.

"That any good?"

A grin tugging on his lips, Remys handed it over wordlessly. Thoughts about having corrupted the posh boy would have to wait, he told himself sternly.

"D'you want to be alone?" Remus ventured, knowing immediately that he would hate for Sirius to say yes. He didn't think he would...

"No." Sirius puffed out a small ring of smoke, coughing slightly. His eyes were raw and genuine, younger than Remus have ever seen them. "No. Just. Stay."

Remus' heart leapt, but he knew that's not how Sirius meant it. Still, he thought.

Quickly, Sirius ripped open the scarlet envelope, and the Howler rose into the air.

"How dare you disgrace the Noble and Most Pure House of Black!? Joining the Gryffindor quidditch team! Duelling with your brother! Befriending half breeds and blood traitors! Mudbloods! You will answer for this in July, mark my words, Sirius!"

After the Howler had screeched its final vile word, it shredded itself into a thousand blood-red pieces. Silence descended, but the instant Remus saw Sirius' blank, scared expression, he took his longest drag yet and interrupted the silence:

"So, your family are vile."

Despite himself, Sirius laughed, the unexpected amusement jarring.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Remmie," he drawled, Howler forgotten. Remus rolled his eyes.

"I hate that," he grumbled, watching the dark-haired boy carefully. Mischievously, Sirius smirked.

"Do you, Remmie? I think you quite like it, actually."

Rolling his eyes, Remus took another drag.

"Bet you'd like that," he replied, without thinking. Taken aback for a split second, Sirius smirked back at him, raising an eyebrow. The sight was so funny that Remus groaned.

"It is honestly a mystery to me how all these girls fall for you," he told him sarcastically. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"I'll show you-"

But before he could finish that thought, the door burst open. A mess of curls and glasses entered the room, and Sirius leapt up off the bed, feeling slightly guilty. What for? he thought. "James!"

Casually, Remus scrolled over to open the window to let the smoke out. As he glanced back to the infamous duo, he caught sight of something new in Sirius' eyes.

[akwolfgrl]

My frist one piece fan fic, I hope it's good. Any feed back is welcome and wanted. I don't have any friends into this anime. Part 1 LFT

Zoro rested his back against the wall of the galley, his arms crossed over his chest as observed their newest member, the blond, had been of help during arlong park battle. His kicks a powerful weapon of destruction. His flexibility and agility, Zoro couldn't move that way. He couldn't help but wonder if the cook could put that to good use in the bedroom.

"I'm surprised at how good smells in here," Zoro couldn't resist the need to tease the blond.

"Dinners not ready yet, if you want to add your likes and dislikes the list is the table, if your hare to steal a bite you can think fucking again swordsmen, I won't hesitate to kick you out literally," He hadn't even bothered to turn around, cigarette smoke filled the air above his head.

Zoro pushed himself off the wall and wandered over the table, a dark blue notebook and a blue feathered pen. Zoro took a seat and flipped through the book until he found his name. There wasn't much on there, just the fact he liked sake. Zoro hadn't expected the prissy cook to go this far in making sure the crew was well fed, once again Luffy somehow knew what he was doing.

"Oi, shit cook whatcha making?" Zoro asked as he filled out the notebook.

"Fuck off," Cook swore at at beofre replying to his answer. "I'm making bouillabaisse with rouille, and chocolate souffle for dessert,"

"First what the fuck is a what ever said, I don't think that will be enough for Luffy, I don't like chocolate so skip mine," Zoro thought chocolate was far to sweet for his liking. He didn't know what souffle was, to be honest.

"Bouillabaisse is a fishmen fish stew, rouille is just something that goes on top of the crusty bread you use to dip and soak up the stew with. I saw how much Luffy eats and I have a leg of lamb and roast chicken in the oven for him. No chocolate? Fuck your even weirder then I thought marimo, but that's easy to fix, what sounds better fruit or chesse?" Sanji asked.

"Chi, whatever curly brows, witch ever goes good with sake," Zoro replied, looking up at the blond man, what he wouldn't give to have his thighs wrapped around his head.

"Hmm, let me check something," The man stepped away from the stove and took a look into the fridge. Zoro got a great view of simmer man perfect ass he bent over to dig threw the fridge. "Cheese it is, a nice sharp chess will pair well with the sake on hand, that is if you didn't drink all!"

"I can't drink it all when you lock it up!" Zoro argued back, he enjoyed the banter between them. Sanji may be snobby, prissy and annoying but he was also strong, loud mouthed and swore like any good sailor worth their salt.

"Good that means it's working, are you done bugging me yet?" The cook asked, finally turning back to glare at him.

Zoro grinned and leaned up his hands behind his head. "I'm just getting comfortable, if you got a problem with that do something about it, but I have one last question for you," Zoro watched as Sanji stalked towards him cigarette smoke trailing behind him.

"And what's that?"

"Can you fuck as good as you fight?"

[ausrache]

mali is cursed. it's not even a hypothetical or a theme in her story, or even something i as a narrator have decided; she is cursed. her existence, in all verses, is an annomaly — one that she deeply despises. being different is not something that sparks joy! in no way, shape or form has it ever brought her joy or relief. neither whilst she resided within her birthplace nor whilst having become of the mortal plane, walking amongst humans. it has always put a target on her back. it has always made her feel so incredibly isolated. it has always made her so incredibly . . . lonely.

mali is cursed with loneliness, in itself.

there is perhaps not another individual with an experience similar to that of hers & she hates it. she wishes she could relate to more "human" stuff; to more "normal" stuff. she wants to be normal. but she feels like she can never be normal in a way that counts & makes her unite with others.

on top of that, you have the many fates that are linked with her chess piece. those who pulled the strings have put her into existence with a red, bright 'x' upon her soul — making her the prime target for so many others hunting her down.

it manifested in the z'ail'tha glyph that binds her to destruction.

it manifested in the poet who took her original body & power.

it manifests in the way she dies inside every time she smells human blood & feels her mouth watering.

it also manifests in the way that she never shows that pain. always swallowing it down, never showing the extent of her burdens.

[zacksfairest]

2, 5, and and 10 for Vaela!Rook

fifty questions for rook

YEAH!!!! MORE EXCUSES TO TALK ABOUT MY BABYGIRL!!!

2. How did Rook get the nickname? What do they think of it?

You and Liz exist on the exact same wavelength. But to add to that: seeing as the Rook in chess is a long-range piece (as it can move horizontal or vertical basically uninhibited so long as there is no enemy pieces in the way), it works with her archery class of assassination. There can be a legion between her and a target, but so long as she has a clear shot, she can take them out with ease from afar. Man. She really hated that nickame at first. She just hated how close it was to the concept of being a Pawn.

5. What was life like for Rook before joining the Veilguard?

We all know Vaela's story. It hasn't changed too much from her true origins to her Dragon Age origins. She was a city elf who wanted so much more than what that life doomed her to: prejudice and poverty and a life of servitude. In comes Zaresh, who is an ex-Dalish elf who appears to have done rather well for himself despite his origins. The same song and dance commences, and the same ending occurs. The difference here is that, when she escapes Zaresh, she eventually winds up in Antiva, specifically Treviso. The Crows notice this street-rat of an elf, who manage to scrape by with meager pickpocketing and stall-snatching of bits of food. House De Riva eventually approaches her, likely practically smelling the desperation and anger rippling off of her, and the promise of a home and safety is like a siren song to her ears. It was, of course, conditional on her being worth anything as an assassin, but she proved herself real well in her training. She spent many years proving herself, the culmination of which was her being given a target to take out on her own: Zaresh Malaedair himself. I think I love the idea of them not even telling her who the target was. She found out while on the job. That way she could approach it as any other job with a clear head—and judge how she can handle a veritable monkey-wrench being thrown into the mix. But that's another matter. Her life with the Crows is rather nice, all things considered. She has friends, and a family to fill the hole in her heart left by the ones she had to leave back in the city. And with that the promise that no one will ever hurt her again.

10. Does Rook know their history? Do they know of the HoF, Hawke, the Inquisitor?

GOD no lmao. Anything she does know is from Varric. She had no idea about any of that stuff before meeting him. Maybe she had a vague knowledge of the fact that the Inquisition existed, and that there was a Fifth Blight. But definitely nothing to do with Hawke and Kirkwall. Anything related to that would come from Varric talking her ear off as she nods along pleasantly while internally she's thinking about the song she heard the bard singing at the tavern last night.

[cboffshore]

hi everyone. I come bearing IICT(OSC) insider knowledge, hints, and memes.

bc spoilers: everything else is under the cut. Do not proceed before you read the fic. Unless you like having twists untwisted in advance. That's on you.

(one day I wanna try my hand at redrawing/tracing this Gayle meme to be Nya, but that's neither here nor there.)

If I ever do any super, super in-depth analysis of this work, it's not happening today, as I'm fighting a weather migraine and longform ideas are NOT my friends. However, I did want to make a few fun bonus notes. These aren't bulleted bc mobile browser formatting.

The weapon in the escape scene was only originally supposed to be a rusty pipe (loosely inspired by a piece of Fall Out Boy promo art used on "What a Time To Be Alive", and yes I KNOW Pete has a baseball bat. I said LOOSELY.) I waffled on the chain element for a LONG time. However, on Halloween, Han doodled this for Trick or Treat asks, and that was enough to make me commit to the idea. @spinjitsuburst: I have no idea if you've read this fic or not, but I never did properly tell you how helpful that was. (And none of that is a spoiler if you do go read it, just turn back now and you'll be safe.)

The Incense Gambit is a real chess strategy; however, we don't call it that. The actual move set is called the Bongcloud Attack, which I learned about when I was doing chess research for this fic. I started out by trying to learn chess online, and at some point, I decided it would be fun to have Nya win with a recognizably stupid move set. Knowing very little about chess at that point (having lost to most of the bots and people I played), I Googled a list of joke chess openers and picked the one that made me laugh the hardest. The Mighty Donut was in second place, but that requires both players to cooperate, so that wouldn't have worked. Not wanting to write "what, you've never heard of the Bongcloud Attack?" as a dialogue line, I switched the name to Incense Gambit both as a reference to smoke and for the fact that "incense" also means "to anger." I should also disclose that one of my few chess wins happened when I USED the Bongcloud, which... that's not normal.

In my first outline, the REAL Landon was originally supposed to set off the escape sequence. Stopping Nya was supposed to be pure luck/desperation on his part, followed by an encounter with Nadakhan where I would've been able to cram in a small analysis of how he treats his crew members. It didn't work out and I never wrote it, but there were secret passageways involved, and it could've been fun if I'd gotten it to work. I still think that bringing the shapeshifting back was the wiser choice, though.

I've already gotten two separate comments that, to different degrees, claim this would have worked as a plausible canon installment. Which is good! The whole point of this is to fill the gaps in her experience, so hearing that this seems believable is always lovely.

If you reread c5, take note of who resets the board each time. Without realizing it, I assigned that duty to whoever feels more strongly that they are controlling the situation at that point.

The wine vs tea thing I hinted at in a few past posts: both beverages are written as symbols of how much Nadakhan is present in a given scene. Wine only appears if he's directly visible - things like the chess sequence and in the dream, where I use wine to describe the air. Tea, however, only appears if Nya can't see him, but he's still influencing the events. These include his gloves smelling like black tea when Nya is blindfolded, the presence of tea on the meal tray, and - of course - the tea she uses as a weapon in the escape sequence.

Speaking of the escape sequence, I made this meme VERY early on and I still find it stupid funny: