I am Peridot, He or HimThere was only so much Lapis could bear, being contained on the same ship with someone like Jasper—especially when the latter was in a bad mood, as was the case now. Any opportunity that could be seized to get out of the path of Jasper’s ire was to be jumped on, so when Lapis found an open room to duck into to hide, she was swift to claim the opportunity.I am Peridot, He or Him by supergeek17
Of course, there was the matter of the room she ducked into being Peridot’s workroom. It might not have been such a bad thing—except for the fact that Peridot was working in here. If whatever she was doing, sitting in the middle of the floor with one of her feet drawn up to her chest and a tool clenched between her teeth, could be called working. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, barely affording Lapis a sidelong glance.
“I just wanted a place to… visit for a while,” Lapis explained, rubbing the back of her neck. “Jasper’s in such a foul mood…
Death Cannot Stop True LoveThe words Joaquín threw at his captor's back were ice cold. "I know who you are."Death Cannot Stop True Love by supergeek17
The Woman in Black glanced over her shoulder at him. "You're the Dread Pirate Roberts—admit it!" he snapped.
She grinned widely and offered him a flourishing bow. "With pride. And what can I do for you?"
"Die—slowly, cut into a thousand pieces," he hissed, his eyes dark.
The Woman in Black shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Hardly complimentary, Your Highness," she scolded. "Why loose such venom on me?"
Joaquín supposed this was a kinder fate than being left for dead on Guilder's unforgiving frontiers, but the mere sight of this woman made his vision tinge white with rage. "You killed my love."
"It's possible," the Woman in Black replied, shrugging. "I kill a lot of people." She started to pace, her path taking her in a languid circle around Joaquín. "Who was this love—another prince, like the Scandinavian?" She waved a hand dismissively at the reference to Joaquín
A Wounded SoulNights were the hardest.A Wounded Soul by supergeek17
Joaquín laid staring up at the ceiling, picking idly at the bedclothes. The ceiling fan blades turned lazily, but he didn't truly see them. His mind was exactly seven thousand, four hundred thirty-one miles away.
Beside him, Ayame sighed in her sleep, shifted and wriggled under the blankets. Joaquín started to look at her out of the corner of his eye, but stopped himself when he remembered that he was still getting used to not having the vision in that eye. Instead, he turned his head and watched her steady breathing, almost envious of her and wanting to be in her place. He immediately regretted the thought and tried to pull it back in—for him to be in her place, she would have to be in his. As miserable as he was, he couldn't bear the thought of putting Ayame through his hell.
He sighed and turned to stare up at the ceiling again. He was lying on his back and it wasn't comfortable. He started to turn on his side, and a sudden overwh
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