#crystals decks - reblog replies

[g8dess]

Reblog with a picture of your f/o and i'll assign them a crystal and tarot/oracle deck I own

Based on vibes alone. Only for the first 15 reblogs with pictures!

Op is ProShip, don't like, don't interact

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance.

Love Everlasting.

A/N: I had a different name and plot for this fic over a year ago. But after being in the RP community for more than a year, I've decided to write the current Royal Life of my favorite OTP.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 13K words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature and/or Explicit. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

TW: mentions of Abuse, Child Abuse, and Childhood Trauma! Reader Discretion is STRONGLY ADVISED!

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations

Boys Of Summer PT. 2.

Meanwhile, it was a party in the Maldives. When Marquise touched down at the private resort airstrip he was immediately chauffeured to the resort to his private ocean-view villa. Far as his eyes could see it was nothing but sunlight and crystal-clear blue waters. After changing, Marquise walked out to his deck and took it all in. When he looked at the outdoor bar he noticed a bottle of rum, whiskey, tequila, and scotch all of them were top-shelf liquors with a card next to them. It was a note from his wife.

Let loose. Have fun. I love you.

He smiled before pouring himself a glass of rum. Just as he downed that drink there was a knock at the door. It was the boys. They all filed into Marquise’s villa.

“Now hold on! Why is your villa bigger than the rest of us?” Logan asked.

Marquise shrugged. 

“Perk of fucking the owner every night. You get the owner’s villa. Take a look around.” he replied. 

The boys explored until they found themselves with Marquise around the bar. After pouring them each a drink Marquise raised his glass in a toast.

“Here’s to the girls. This was their idea.”

The men toasted. 

“Where did you find this place?” Sam asked His Majesty.

“I didn't. It was given to my father way back when and it was used by the nobles back home until they just stopped coming. And it sat vacant for years. And when Shanelle found out about it she decided to turn it into all of this.” Marquise replied. 

“I knew I liked Butta. Girl be on her shit.” Eddie quipped.

Marquise snorted before finishing his drink. 

“I don’t know about you guys but I'm going swimming.” Marquise announced.  

“You going down to the beach?” Logan asked.

“Nope. Right here. Off the side.” Marquise replied before walking to the edge of the deck and diving off.

When he resurfaced he was feeling it.

“What are you dopes waiting on? Get in here!” Marquise called out to the boys. 

Marquise watched as the guys jumped off. The boys spent the next two hours horsing around, laughing, and cracking jokes. This is what Shanelle wanted. She wanted her husband and the guys to relax and have fun. To be like kids that were locked in a candy store. That night after an amazing dinner literally for a King, Marquise decided to FaceTime his wife. 

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey yourself handsome. How is it?” she asked.

“You are a fucking genius! This place is beyond my wildest dreams,” he replied.

“Yay! I'm so happy to hear that you are enjoying yourself. How are the boys liking it?” she asked.

“They love it. We're having an amazing time.”

“Good. Very good.”

“I miss you and my little ones though.”

“We miss you too. But it's been good to have the girls and the kiddos here.”

“What did you all do today?” he asked.

“We took the horses out and let the kids ride in the field behind the stables,” she replied.

“Did the boys finally learn that the horses don't giddy up?” he asked.

She snorted. 

“No, at least not yet. They did learn how to feed the horse though,” she replied.

“Good. As long as you two aren't by yourselves in the palace.”

“Even if the others weren't here with us, Khari and I would've still spent the weekend here.” 

“I know.”

Shanelle noticed the tan her husband has gotten.

“You've been out in the sun.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“Your tan. You've gotten darker. The sun looks good on you.” 

“Thank you, my love. I plan on being in the sun as much as possible.”

“Sunscreen. Don't forget!”

“I won't. Since I know it's late there, I'll let you go so you can get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too baby. Sweet dreams.”

After blowing him a kiss, he ended the call and they both went to bed. The next day Shanelle woke up to giggles and the pitter-patter of little feet. 

“Good morning mommy!” Khari said as she climbed into her bed followed by Logi, Branden, and Brayden. “Morning TiTi!” 

“Morning babies! What are the four of you doing awake?” Shanelle asked.

“Auntie Bronwyn woke us up and we played for a little bit,” Khari replies. 

Shanelle watched as Brayden laid his head on her belly to listen for the babies. 

“Baby?” he asked.

“That's right angel. The babies are in my tummy.”

Branden put his hand on her tummy. 

“There?” he asked.

“Yes, baby. There. Although they might not be awake yet.”

“They're sleeping?” Logi asked.

“Yup. And you know how we wake them up?” Shanelle replied.

“How mommy?” Khari asked.

“Breakfast! Let's go get us some food!” Shanelle replied. 

Seeing the kids cheer made Shanelle’s heart leap. She walked with them to the dining room where the girls and the last two babies were. 

“Morning my beauties! Let's eat!” 

They had a smorgasbord of food to choose from complete with an egg station. After getting the kids squared away with their food, the girls got something to eat. When Shanelle sat down she had a plate full of food.

“Damn. What did you get?” Robin asked.

“A ham, swiss, and spinach omelet, French toast, three types of bacon, berries and cream parfait, Belgian waffles, breakfast potatoes, chocolate chip pancakes, and orange and cranberry scones. Why?” Shanelle replied. 

“You're gonna eat ALL of that Princess?” Nina asked.

Shanelle patted her belly.

“Table for three,” she replied. 

The girls laughed. 

“Mmmm! What kind of bread do they use to make the French toast?” Dee asked.

“Brioche,” Shanelle replied.

“Oh yeah, that's right! We have to remember that you’re a Queen now. So you’re into all the bougie bread.” Robin teases.

“And all the bougie butter. And all the bougie big ass breakfast buffets.” Shanelle quipped. 

Brayden tapped Shanelle on her leg.

“TiTi more?” he asked, holding up his plate. 

“Of course angel. Come on,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” Bronwyn asked.

“Yeah. You finish eating your food babe.” Shanelle replied.

Shanelle led Brayden to the buffet and got him what he wanted before taking him back to his seat. Before he sat down he told her thank you.

“Thank you TiTi,” he said before giving her a big hug and kiss. “Love you.”

Shanelle literally floated back to her seat.

“I am Brayden’s favorite Auntie. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk! Have a good rest of your Saturday! God Bless!” 

The girls laughed. 

“Bronwyn, you better watch him. That's gonna be your heartbreaker.” 

Bronwyn snorted. 

“Just like his dad.”

“Worse!” Shanelle and Nina said in unison.

Meanwhile, in the Maldives, the boys were racing jet skis all up and down the beach. After a big breakfast of their own, the guys made it down to the marina where they were each given a jet ski.

“Wait! We get to keep these?” Eddie asked the attendant. 

“Yes sir. You each get a jet ski to keep. Each jet ski has your name on them.” the attendant replied.

“I love my big sister,” Logan said out loud.

Marquise snorted.

“I would hope so. She just gifted you a jet ski. So who's racing?” 

The boys hopped on and took off. Racing across the water enjoying themselves. This was what the girls wanted for their men. To be able to relax, have fun, and be themselves. They each work so hard and they needed time to just be guys. The boys split up after spending 3 hours on the water. Marquise and Dino took the time to visit the spa. The Deep Tissue Massage Marquise got was life-changing.

“Remind me to thank the Queen for this,” Dino said to Marquise as they walked back to his villa. 

“Noted,” Marquise replies.

When they got there the boys were there raiding the bar and smoking cigars.

“Why am I not surprised to see you boys here?” Marquise asked as he went behind the bar to pour him and Dino a drink.

“You got the best liquor and cigars. That's why.” Eddie replies. “Man these are smooth! Where you get this shit at?”

“Cuba,” Marquise replied. 

“¿Auténticos Cubanos?” Sam asked.

“Sí. Los he importado de una fábrica en las afueras de La Habana.”

Sam nodded appreciatively.

“Nice.”

“What the hell did y'all just say?” Eddie asked.

The men laughed. 

Meanwhile, the girls were setting up for painting the boys’ nursery. Well sort of. They had the kids change into bathing suits and swim trunks and had buckets of paint-filled balloons ready to go. 

“Alright, kiddos! When I say go, you throw.” Shanelle announces.

“Throw?” Branden asked before throwing his balloon at the wall.

“No, not yet baby. You have to wait until I say go.” 

“Go? Go!” Brayden said before throwing his balloon.

That's when Shanelle made a decision. 

“You know what? Have at it!” she said before getting out of dodge. 

She and the girls watched as the kids got to have fun throwing balloons and getting messy. It was a fun time had by all. And when all the balloons were splattered against the wall, the kids got to write their names. or at least they tried to.

The men were sitting around a poker table smoking cigars, drinking, and laughing. 

“I fold! You have been on a tear.” James said to Marquise.

Marquise snickered.

“Damn, just when I was having fun.”

“I'm not about to lose AJ’s college fund to you.”

“Now you know I would never allow my niece’s college fund to be depleted. Whatever you lost would've been replaced. You know me.”

James took a sip of his rum.

“This is true but still I'm good.”

“Very well,” Marquise said before turning to the rest of the guys, “who's up?”

That's when Eddie down his drink.

“Deal me in Lo.”

“You sure man? He's been unstoppable.” Logan said to Eddie.

“Ain't nobody scared of his ass,” Eddie replies.

A slow smirk bloomed on Marquise’s face. 

“Finally! A challenge! I was starting to get bored.”

“I’m about to rob yo ass,” Eddie said to Marquise.

“And I’m about to send you back to my sister in tears.”

Eddie scoffed. 

“Best 2 out of 3?” Marquise asked.

“Hell yeah!” Eddie replies.

“Deal the cards, Logan.” 

With liquor, cigars, food, and poker in hand, the boys spent the rest of the night enjoying one friendly competition after another.

And for the girls, it was movie night! Complete with chicken tenders, French fries, Chicken Caesar Salad wraps, applesauce for the babies, create your own hot fudge brownie sundaes, and 101 Dalmatians. The kids didn't even make it through the first 30 minutes before all of them were out like a light. 

After putting the kids to bed, the girls were gathered in Shanelle's room with wine in hand. They were discussing the latest chapter of The Forgotten Heir. Well, the girls were discussing it. Shanelle kept her mouth shut. Which was unusual for her. 

“Alright, Nelle you've been quiet. Way too quiet. What's wrong?” Robin asked.

“Nothing. I'm just sitting here listening.” Shanelle replies.

“That's just it, you don't listen. So what is it?” Nina asked. 

Shanelle took a big sip of her sparkling cider.

“Is it the book? Are you bothered by it?” Bronwyn asked.

“Bothered? Hardly. Annoyed that people are making a big deal out of nothing? Yes.” Shanelle replies.

“Now now Your Majesty. Be nice.” Dee said to Shanelle.

“I am being nice. I haven't called bullshit have I?” Shanelle asked.

“No. But you want to.” Nina replied.

Shanelle shrugged. 

“I feel for Myah,” Bronwyn said.

“That's because you’re little miss give everybody a chance,” Robin said to her. 

“I’m glad you feel for her because I don't.” Shanelle said.

“Why?” Bronwyn asked.

“Because your sister-in-law kept coming for my husband and she feels entitled to something that isn't hers to begin with that's why. I'm not about to feel bad for her or anyone that cares for her.” Shanelle replies.

“Okay. I get why you feel that way but you have to understand that she's hurt.” Dee said.

“Okay and?” Shanelle asked.

“Don't be like that Nelle,” Bronwyn replied.

“Don't be what? Fed up? The crown is more than just some fancy title. It is a job. One that is nonstop and never-ending.” Shanelle replied.

Shanelle sighed.

“Look, if she's angry, fine. I get it because Connie at the end of the day, was a cold-hearted, calloused, selfish, self-centered bastard. He didn't care about anyone but himself. But her anger at Connie should have nothing to do with my husband. She's not his responsibility. He owes her nothing. Connie did. And if Connie chose not to do right by her, then that's on him. The old man’s sins are not Marquise’s to pay. If she's gonna be mad at anyone, be mad at the two people who acted like they didn't know how a condom works.” 

“Ouch,” Dee said.

“Though her delivery needs major work, Nelle has a point. While it is heartbreaking that Connie chose his responsibility over Myah, you just can't expect Marquise to just hand over anything. Especially when he's got Khari and the twins to think about.” Robin said. 

“Finally someone gets it,” Shanelle said.

“I don’t know. If he didn't want her to have a title he wouldn't have granted her one.” Bronwyn quipped.

“He didn't want her to have it. Believe me.” a voice called out. It was Margo. “I apologize for butting in.”

“How do you know?” Nina asked Margo. 

Margo sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Because I have worked for The Royal Family for almost 40 years. A good 38 of those years have been spent serving The Family. I know all there is to know about Constantine.” Margo replied. “Constantine was a lot of things. A loving, caring, concerned father? Never. If he couldn't even do right by his sons, I can assure you, he would never do right by this girl.” 

“Then why grant her a title?” Nina asked.

“Let me ask this, why do you think he never married her mother?” Margo asked.

“Because there was a chance his enemies could come after her and her mother,” Bronwyn replied. 

Margo shook her head no.

“Only if she were the heir to the throne. Which she wasn't. Because the Monarchy would never recognize her.” 

“Why not?” Robin asked.

“Because he didn't marry her mother. Cordonian Law is crystal clear: the declaration he signed would only be valid if he married her mother. And Connie knew that. He was the King after all. But since he didn't, granting her a title is not an obligation for my son.” Margo replied. 

“So he signed it to do what?” Nina asked.

“Pacify if nothing else. You have to understand his thought process. If it wasn't selfish or self-serving Constantine did not care. That is who he was. A selfish, self-centered, cold-hearted, cruel, calloused bastard.” Margo replied. 

Shanelle poured Margo a glass of wine.

“Thank you, dear. Listen, what you girls read in that book is not who Connie was a father. Because if he was that concerned of a father, he wouldn't have left the raising of his two children to me and the rest of the staff. Not that I’m not grateful. Marquise was a wonderful child. Hard-headed and stubborn as an ox at times but no less loving and protective. Raising him and Leo was and is one of the joys of my life, but it should have been Constantine's responsibility. Not mine.”

“If you feel that way, why have you stayed all these years?” Dee asked.

“Because they needed someone to protect them from the madman he had become. The year and a half after Eleanor was killed was the worst of them all. To be fair every day that man breathed was terrible but those first 18-19 months were completely unbearable. And I was ready to resign. But my Prince begged me to stay. Besides, I couldn't leave two innocent children to face his wrath alone. I wasn't about to kidnap them either. That would've meant death for me and my family. So I promised Marquise that I would stay until he turned 18. And I have been here ever since.”

“You keep saying that Connie was a bad father but what exactly did he do?” Robin asked. 

Margo went quiet before clearing her throat and taking a sip of her wine.

“I'm not even sure I should tell this story because I swore to Marquise that I would take it to my grave.” Margo replies.

“What?” Bronwyn asked.

Margo looked at Shanelle.

“Marquise had just gotten his acceptance letter to Harvard, which was just about 5 months after his 16th birthday. Around that time, Connie would go into his study and drink himself into a stupor and then get belligerent as all hell. Well, one night my husband George and I were making our rounds as we did as the senior staff when we heard Connie’s raised voice coming from the King’s study. We knew it couldn't be good.” Margo replied.

“What was going on?” Robin asked.

“When we got there Connie was in Marquise’s face yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. George and I were able to separate them. He took Constantine and I took Marquise with Connie still berating him, calling him everything but a child of God. George tried to get Connie to calm down and leave Marquise alone but that only angered him more. I had just gotten him to the doors when Constantine broke free of my husband and it happened.” Margo replied.

“When what happened?” Nina asked.

Margo closed her eyes while shaking her head.

“I watched Constantine ball up his fist and strike his own son.” Margo replied.

The girls went deathly silent. When Margo opened her eyes, she saw the look of shock and utter horror written on Shanelle's face. 

“Oh My God! Oh My God!” Shanelle whispered.

“The hit knocked Marquise back into the door and it stunned him. And that's not even the worst part, the worst part is Connie got ready to hit him again. But that second time my husband was able to catch his fist and pin him to his desk. That's when George told me to get Marquise out of that office. Imagine all 5’2 of me trying to drag a then 6’3 16-year-old out of his father’s office. When I finally got him back to his wing of the palace, he sat down on his bed with his head in his hands. And when he looked up at me, I saw all the rage, the shock, the heartbreak, and the pain in his eyes. When I sat down next to him, he laid his head in my lap and just cried. He kept asking ‘what did I do wrong?’ ‘Why does he hate me so much?’”

Margo paused to collect herself.

“I was able to get him to take a shower and get something to eat. But not before he told me…that wasn't the first time that Connie had hit him.”

The girls were in shock.

“I have a question.” Bronwyn finally spoke.

“Yes?” Margo asked.

“Why didn't you let Marquise go so he could bury that sonuvabitch?” Bronwyn asked.

“I couldn't,” Margo replies.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What do you mean you couldn't?” Robin asked.

“She's right.” Shanelle finally spoke. Her voice was shaky. “She couldn't. Neither could George.”

“What?! Why not?!” Nina asked.

“Because had Marquise hit his father, Connie would've wasted no time having him arrested and thrown in a dungeon,” Shanelle replies.

“But Connie started it!” Dee piped up.

“That wouldn't matter. Because at that time Connie was the Monarch. And the Parliament and Monarchy’s job is simple. Protect the Monarch at all times. Especially from family. It was a rule established by the Monarchy back in the 1600s when then Queen Kendra’s brother plotted to kill her and take the throne for himself.” Shanelle said. 

Margo nodded while taking Shanelle’s trembling hands in her own. 

“Connie would've spun the story to make himself the victim of an assault by his unruly and ungrateful son who wanted to usurp him and take the throne from him. And with many in the Parliament being stuck so far up Constantine’s ass at the time, they wouldn't have hesitated.” Margo said. 

Shanelle closed her eyes to stop tears of anger from rolling. 

“My husband never would've stood a fighting chance. The Parliament would've convicted Marquise without question. And Connie would've sentenced him to death.”

Margo nodded sadly.

“And I would've had to watch my sweet, cocky, thickheaded, loving, caring, protective boy. My beautiful son…I would've had to watch him walk to the gallows. And that would've killed me.” 

“The gallows? Like Pirates Of The Caribbean?!” Bron asked.

“Yes. Cordonia still believes in criminals being hung by the neck until dead. Marquise hasn't implemented it but it is a punishment in the books.” Shanelle replied.

Shanelle took a deep breath. 

“I hate that man. I hate him so much. If I could I would've killed him myself if his cancer hadn't beaten me to it. Maxwell told me years ago that Connie used to take whatever he was feeling when he was drunk out on Marquise but I never thought it would be that bad.” Shanelle seethed.

Margo rubbed Shanelle's knuckles.

“I'm sorry if I upset you. That was never my intention. And please don't think Marquise was intentionally hiding this from you.”

Shanelle nodded. 

“I know he wasn't. I’m not mad. Well not at him or you. I am furious with Connie. Absolutely disgusted. But that's exactly who that good-for-nothing bastard was. As Margo said, he was cold-hearted, callous, and cruel.”

Margo looked at Shanelle softly.

“This is why I fight so hard for him. That night was the first and last time he ever allowed Connie to break him and his spirit. As soon as he was able to, Marquise left for Harvard. And was determined to stay in Boston. He even invited me and my family to live there with him.” 

“Why didn't you move to Boston with him?” Dee asked.

“Because Leo abdicated that's why. There was no need to leave. The new King was coming home.” Margo replied.

Shanelle squeezed Margo’s hands gently.

“Thank you, Margo,” Shanelle said to her lead attendant.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Again I didn't mean to upset you and I can only hope my son won't be too angry with me for telling you.” 

Shanelle gave her a small smile.

“If he does get mad, you have a 4-year-old trump card in your pocket.”

Margo chuckled.

“Indeed I do. Now if you will excuse me, I will go check on the children.”

“Thank you, Margo.”

Margo smiled.

“Of course my Queen.”

Once Margo left Shanelle let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in before looking at her girls.

“Do you believe me now?” 

Robin threw her arms around Shanelle. Bronwyn just shook her head. Nina and Dee just sat there trying to process everything.

“He used to…” Bronwyn trailed off.

“Hit his son? Yes. He did.” Shanelle said. 

“That's…he…” Dee said. 

“Yeah. So while Myah’s version of Connie is cute as all get out, it's historically inaccurate. You wanna know who Constantine Leonidas Rys really was? Ask the son he abused. Ask the staff he always terrorized. Ask the people he exiled. Hell, ask the families of the people he had killed. They will tell you all you need to know. He wasn't loving, or caring, or compassionate, or concerned. He deserved his cancer. He deserved the pain it caused him. He deserves to sit in hell and rot.”

Shanelle shook her head as she angrily swiped away a stray tear. 

“Just know. Marquise is loved and protected by us all the same way he loves and protects us. And he will never ever have to deal with that sperm donor ever again.” Robin declared. 

“I need you girls to do me a favor. Do not speak of this to anyone. Please.”

The girls all agreed and Shanelle nodded gratefully. 

The next night was the final night in the Maldives for the guys. After spending all day doing their own things, they met for one final drink and salute to their amazing weekend together. 

“Well, boys! This is it. Our final night in paradise. We have been spoiled by our beautiful wives. We've had a great time together and we will be doing this again.” Marquise said in toast, “Here's to the incomparable FabBabes!” 

The boys saluted before downing the last of their shots. The next morning just before the guys checked out, Shanelle had one more surprise. She gifted each of the guys iced-out chains, rings, watches, and earrings. 

“It's official! Butta loves her some of me!” Eddie said as he flicked his wrist. The diamonds in his watch caught the sun. 

“You will break your wrist doing that,” Marquise said to him.

“You see this watch? Nigga it's worth it!”

Marquise shook his head with a smirk. This whole weekend was more than he could've asked for. But now it was time to get back home. Back to his life. Back to his job as King. But he would definitely be linking up with the guys again. When he got back to the palace he was greeted by his daughter. 

“Daddy!” Khari called out as she ran into his outstretched waiting arms. “I missed you so much, Daddy!” 

“I missed you too, my love,” he said as he hugged his daughter. 

“And what about me?” Shanelle asked Marquise with an eyebrow raised.

“I always miss you, my Queen,” he replies with a sweet kiss to his wife. 

“Good answer Your Majesty.” 

Marquise spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with his two favorite girls and after putting his little one to bed, it was time for some one on one with the woman of his dreams. They were snuggled together. 

“I missed being in these big strong arms of yours,” Shanelle said to him.

“I missed having you in my arms,” he replies, “did you and Khari have fun this weekend?”

“Yes, we did. I can't wait for you to see the boys’ nursery. Those kids made a mess. Even the baby babies got in on the fun.”

Marquise groaned.

“Are you sure I don't need to hire professionals?” he asked.

“Yes. I wanted the kids to have fun, get creative, and be messy as all get out,” she replies. 

Marquise chuckles.

“Fair enough. So what did you and the girls do while I was gone?” he asked.

“The standard overindulgence, gossip, and giggles,” she replied.

“How much overindulgence, gossip, and giggles happened?” he asked.

“The girls talked about your little sister's new book,” she replied.

Marquise rolled his eyes.

“Blood makes you related. It doesn't make you a family.”

“This is true but she's still related to you.”

“No, she's related to him. She's his child out of wedlock. Not mine. We have nothing in common. I have one blood sibling. That's it.”

Shanelle shrugged. 

“Okay. I'll back off. But that's not all we talked about.”

“What else is there?” he asked.

Shanelle sat up in bed and cleared her throat before speaking.

“Margo came in mid-conversation and she…” Shanelle trailed off.

“And she what?” he asked as he sat up as well.

Shanelle turned her head while biting her bottom lip. Marquise gently grabbed her chin and turned her face so that she was looking at him.

“Tell me.”

“Promise me you won't be angry?” she asked in a soft voice.

“I promise now what is it? You’re starting to scare me,” he replies.

“Margo told us that Connie…he…” Shanelle struggled to say the words. Not that she needed to. Marquise already knew what she was going to say.

Marquise closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“She told you about?” he asked.

“The time he punched you in front of her and George? Yes,” she replied.

Marquise nodded slowly.

“Please don't be mad at her. She didn't tell us to betray your confidence or your trust. The girls wanted to know why Connie was so bad and that's when she told us.”

“I'm not mad at mom. Because truth be told, I should've told you years ago. I was just…”

“Still traumatized?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he replied.

Marquise let out a breath.

“She said you told her that wasn't the first time he hit you.”

“That's right. He had hit me before. That time was just the first time he’d done it in front of an audience.” 

Shanelle’s heart began to break. She'd never seen her husband like this. So vulnerable.

“If you don't mind telling me, when was the first time?” she asked.

Marquise set his jaw then inhaled and exhaled slowly before he spoke.

“I was 14. I had just won my latest chess match and I wanted to show him the trophy I'd gotten. I knocked on his door but I didn't hear anything. And I should've just left but instead, I opened the door. He was sitting at the desk drunk with a bottle in his hand. He looked at me with this rage in his eyes. He asked me why I was there and I told him. That's when he took a swig from his bottle and went off on me. I did everything I could think of to reassure and calm him down but I was a kid. And it didn't work anyway.” 

Marquise stopped and Shanelle wrapped her arms around him.

“He grabbed me by my collar and kept screaming for me to stop haunting him. That I should've died the day she did so he wouldn't be cursed to know she was never coming back. That's when he let me go and he backhanded me.”

Shanelle shuddered.

“George must've heard me fall because he came running in and when he saw me on the floor he asked what had happened. And in classic Constantine Rys form…” Marquise trailed off.

That's when he contorted his face into a scowl that mirrored Connie’s sneer.

“Calm down George! Everything is fine. This clumsy idiot tripped over his own feet. Isn't that right boy?”

Their bedroom was quiet for a few seconds before he continued. 

“George helped me up and walked me out of his office. And when we were far enough away, he asked me what really happened and I told him everything. That's when he brought me to mom and told her. And I begged them both not to say anything. Because at that time I was terrified he would retaliate. Either against me or worse them. So they agreed to keep quiet. She got me cleaned up and something to eat and then put me to bed.”

Shanelle’s heart broke for her husband and her blood boiled.

“I'm so sorry baby.”

Marquise shook his head.

“Don't be. Because I got my revenge in the end. I got his throne and his kingdom. I got to watch the devil incarnate die a slow, painful, and well-deserved death. And if that's who Myah wants to call her father, she can fucking have him.”

“Marquise you are a victim. He abused you.”

“I refuse to be one. I refuse to let him believe he could ever break me twice.”

Shanelle kissed his cheek just before he kissed the palm of her right hand.

“I need you to swear to me that you won't say anything about this. I'm not saying that I don't trust the girls but it's bad enough that they know. So you have to swear not to say anything to anyone else. Not even to Khari.”

“Marquise—” she started to say something before he cut her off, “swear to it Shanelle!”

Shanelle closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. 

“I swear to you that I won't say anything to anyone else.”

Marquise let out a breath.

“Thank you, my love. Now let's get some sleep. It's been a long day.”

Shanelle nodded before they laid back down with him holding her close with his left resting on her stomach. 

The next week it was business as usual for His Majesty. There was a kingdom to be run. He spent the week in and out of meetings with advisors and foreign dignitaries. And he got the news he’d been waiting on. Monterisso finally agreed to be acquired by Cordonia. Which was a major win for him. He could leverage Monterisso’s spy tech with his kingdom’s special ops corp. 

He couldn't wait to tell Shanelle the great news over lunch.

“Well done Your Majesty! This is quite an accomplishment for you and our kingdom.” Shanelle said to him.

“Thank you, my Queen. It took me negotiating tooth and nail but we are now a truly fortified kingdom.” 

“I'm proud of you. You didn't let the last few Monterissan holdouts deter you.”

“Thank you, beautiful.”

“So what happens now?” she asked.

“I have a trip to Monterisso in the coming weeks to tour the kingdom and take stock of everything,” he replies.

“You mean you plan to play with all the drone tech?” she asked.

“Stop raining on my parade!” he replies.

Shanelle snickered. Just then there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Marquise called out.

An attendant came in with a Manila envelope in their hands.

“Pardon the interruption Your Majesties, but I was told to deliver this to you, my King.” the attendant said.

Marquise nodded. 

“Set it down. Thank you.”

The attendant nodded before setting the envelope down and leaving the room.

“What's that?” Shanelle asked.

“I don’t know. Let's find out shall we?” Marquise replied before grabbing one of his letter openers.

He broke the seal and then pulled the documents out. After a quick scan, his features darkened. 

“What? What is it?” Shanelle asked. 

“This is the autopsy report I had done on Tariq’s body,” he replies.

Shanelle’s eyebrows shot up.

“What does it say?” she asked.

“Exactly what I feared. Tariq didn't die of acute organ failure. He was poisoned.” he replies.

“WHAT?!” Shanelle exclaimed.

“Naya killed her husband.” 

Shanelle’s jaw dropped. 

“So what happens now?” she asked.

Instead of responding, Marquise dialed a number on his office phone.

“My King?” a voice answers.

“Issue an arrest warrant for one Princess Naya Laurent of Duchy Arnaud,” Marquise replied.

“The charge?” the voice asked.

“Murder,” Marquise replied.

“At once Your Majesty.” 

The call ended. This was it. Marquise was about to issue his first-ever death warrant as King. Whether he wanted to or not was a different story. 

[of-comfort-and-love]

A Gift From The Ocean

It feels good to be writing again~ Especially for MerMay- the last time I wrote for Mermay was back in like what, a year ago? And that was back when I had my multifandom OC. I don't use her anymore though...

This is based on the "Unlimited Glory" photoshoot from Shining Live. Comments/Reblogs are always welcome!

EDIT 06/01: As of now, I'm aware that May has passed. But, that's not gonna stop me from finishing this!!! >:)

Word Count: 1,662

CW: Injury mention, mild violence mention

Tag List: @topstarodeo @rose-wine-selfships @syos-princess @ofieugogyshz @bard-and-the-barbarian @bipocselfship-archive @vaporvvave (If you want your name added/removed, then please let me know.)

Quartermaster Tomochika couldn't enjoy her breakfast over the loud commotion going on the deck. She could hardly taste the blend of cinnamon and sugar in her porridge without the sounds of "Ooohs!", "Aaaahs!", and "Whooass!" blaring in her ear.

Sighing in annoyance, she swallowed the remainder of her breakfast and climbed upstairs. Cecil, the head chef, couldn't help but follow after her, also wondering what all of the fuss was about.

"Hehe, I wonder what's the commotions about this time.", he nervously chuckled, trying to avoid the stern aura blazing in the redhead's eyes.

"Honestly, the Crystal Dawn mates need to stop getting so excited over such trivial nonsense.", Tomochika scoffed, tucking her luscious ruby locks behind her ear.

Her heeled boots clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she reached the deck. The sound of her footsteps was somehow able to quiet down the crowded of excited mates; the group nervously turned around to face the strict quartermaster.

"Q-Quartermaster, come take a look at what the fishermen caught in the net. It's incredible…", the kind-hearted doctor Natsuki gazed at the woman with a misty, almost dream-like gleam in his eyes.

Tomochika made her way through the crowd to investigate the situation with a sigh.

"Natsuki," she sighed, "this better be important, or the captain will be upset that you all are…"

Tomochika quickly froze in place, staring in awe at the surprise found in the fishermen's net.

Thought of something only from books and urban legends, the Crystal Dawn crew were left dazzled at the sight of a real mermaid right before their eyes.

She was of a dark complexion, small shells and beads woven into her dark brown braids. The noticeable fins on the side of her head matched the ones adorned on her sparkling amethyst-colored tail. It shone many brilliant colors as she laid down on the deck, soaking in the morning sun's rays.

The mermaid usually would've enjoyed a relaxing sunbathing. However, being in this new environment made her feel uneasy, and she wished for nothing to be back home.

"Do you know much money would we get off of her? Let's head for shore and then put 'er up for auction!", a rigger shouted, money signs practically bursting out of his eyes.

"Now why would you do that to such a lovely maiden such as her?", the suave gunner Ren commented, delicately grabbing onto the mermaid's hand through the net before raising it to his lips.

She quickly recoiled it away and hissed at the redhead before he had a chance to kiss it.

"Pfft, don't ya idiots know that mermaids are a bad omen? All the legends say they'll curse everyone on board if you hoist one up out of the ocean. One quick stab in the brain should do away with her before things get out of control.", the silver-haired first mate Ranmaru scoffed before drawing his sword from his scabbard.

"Yeah, and then Cecil 'ere can prepare our dinner!", another mate cheered gleefully, making Ranmaru grunt in disgust.

"Non, non, non! That's horrible!", Cecil replied, "I would never do such a thing to an innocent creature. Besides, mermaids are poisonous and I don't like fish anyway!"

Tomochika held her head in disgust as the crew argued about their latest discovery. She opened her mouth to holler at them before a delicate hand rested on her shoulder.

It was none other than the shy yet gentle musician Haruka, her dearest friend. If there was anyone that could put a smile back on the quartermaster's face, it was her.

Timidly tucking a strand of coral hair behind her ear, Haruka whispered, "Tomo-chan, I think it would be best if we let her go. She's scared and I don't think the Captain would be pleased about having a mermaid on board. Especially if they really are cursed."

Before Tomochika could share her input, a wave of intensity and fear suddenly fell over the crew.

"What is going on here?!", a new voice hollered, the ship immediately going silent.

The crew quickly parted in two, all eyes darting at the terrifying man approaching them. Dressed in a flowing coat and a dark hat, Captain Tokiya knew how to make an entrance.

"Captain," Tomochika bravely stepped forward, trying her best not to cower under the eerie man's cold stare. "I'm afraid we have an…uninvited guest onboard. For our safety, I think it would be best if we set her free, don't you agree?"

As the quartermaster quickly moved out of his way, Tokiya was able to get a clearer view of the "uninvited guest". The mermaid felt a lump in her throat as he stepped closer, drawing his sword in the process.

The crew gasped, unaware of the Captain's true intentions. They felt relief as they soon realized that he was going to free from her makeshift prison.

"You've done well, crew. Never in my days did I expect you to get your hand on one of them.", Tokiya finally spoke, putting his weapon away and folding his arms over his chest, surprisingly impressed with this new finding.

"I-I don't understand, Captain.", Tomochika stammered, not entirely understanding what he meant.

Tokiya pulled a rolled-up paper out of his pocket before kneeling down to properly face the mermaid. She anxiously tried to avoid his gaze, but his handsome features made it impossible.

"Now, my dear. What do you know about the treasure of Muse's Island?", he quietly whispered, the mention of the location's name making her slightly gasp. The Captain then unrolled the tainted paper, revealing it to be half of an old map.

The mermaid refused to respond, timidly playing with her fingers while questions formed consciously.

"Don't you play dumb with me. I know all about your kind; you can communicate with humans. You will answer my question, or I'll have to show you what happens when one disobeys the Captain.", Tokiya snarled, forcing the mermaid to make eye contact with him.

Why does he want the treasure? What does he plan to do with it? Does he know about our connection to it? Of course, he would- that's why he's asking me about it. But, I can't trust these no good people. I need to get out of here before-

An unexpected hand grazing her chin dragged her out of her train of thought.

Disgusted with the man's assertiveness, the mermaid struck him with her sharp claws, scratches dashed across his face.

Hollers and swears erupted amongst the crew at what she had done to their beloved yet feared Captain.

"How dare you strike at him?!", Tomochika spat, her complexion matching her fiery hair.

"I'll be damn sure to make you pay for that." Ranmaru coldly stared down at the panting mermaid, forcibly gripping his sword's handle.

"Captain, let me tend to your wounds. Oh dear, looks like some deep ones; I'll have to stop the bleeding before it gets infected.", Natsuki raced over to Tokiya, quickly getting his equipment out from his kit.

But before he could apply pressure to the injuries, Natsuki stopped himself at the sudden chuckling slipping from the Captain's lips.

He slowly rose up and continued his odd barrage of laughter before finally calming down.

"C-Captain, what's gotten into you?", Natsuki asked cautiously, growing even more concerned for his boss.

Tokiya cleared his throat before he proudly addressed his crew.

"Ears open, Crystal Dawn. Our "guest" shall remain here until further notice from this moment forward. So, there will be no eating, overthrowing, auctioning, or whatever nonsense you have dancing in your little heads. If anyone of you even dares lay a finger on her, you'll answer to me and my blade. Is that clear?!"

The members didn't dare to retaliate; they quickly agreed with the Captain's statement before giving commands.

Tokiya first demanded that the builders build a water tank and place it in the brig. That would be the mermaid's place of confinement for now. Later, he informed the cartographer to create a rough draft until he got further information about Muse's Island.

After giving out orders, everyone onboard went about their days. The Captain turned his attention towards the mermaid, her attention shifting between his hard stare and the still bloody marks on his face.

"Now, you listen to me", his hot breath suddenly over her nose. "Consider yourself grateful that I didn't kill you in front of my mates for attacking me. You are a vital piece to this puzzle I'm trying to solve, and I won't let anyone stop me from getting what I need."

The mermaid scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance only to cower like a nervous puppy when he inched his face closer to hers.

"I have ways of making you talk, so you'll do as you're told like a good girl, or you'll be hearing from me. Trust that you wouldn't like to see what happens when you make the Captain of the Crystal Dawn angry. I expect that you'll be on your best behavior for me. hmm?"

"Y-yes…"

Tokiya backed away at the meek voice that sounded from the mermaid, visibly flustered. He wasn't expecting her to respond, but he quickly laughed it off.

"Excellent, that's what I like to hear. It pleases me when people do what they're told. Perhaps you'll be of good use to us once our mission is over. I'm looking forward to spending more time with you, my dear."

The mermaid suddenly gasped as the Captain hoisted her up in his strong arms. No matter how much she protested, he refused to let her go.

"Now how about you & I discuss the details in my office? Can't have any prying eyes or ears get involved in our conversation.", Tokiya seductively whispered in her ear.

Who knows what could be expected from the crew of the Crystal Dawn? Looks like the newest member will have to brace for the worst for this new adventure upon the sea.

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Space Between Us

Alien au? Alien au! I have no self control! Please accept this one shot that quickly spiraled into 23 pages of Virgil being a disaster in space. (If you guys enjoy it, let me know because I’m considering making it a series.)

Summary: The cosmos is a Gigantic place and somehow Virgil’s past still catches up to him.

Words: 11400

TW: Human trafficking, Human experimentation, dehumanization, fighting rings, 

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection  @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

“Tell me again why this is absolutely necessary?” Virgil asked, watching Logan’s hands dance across the console. On any other day the sight would be comforting. Every time his digits landed on a key, his nerves glowed with sparks of multicolored light through his transparent crystal skin, creating a beautiful firework show right in front of them all. Logan had told him once it was called Lightdancing, an evolutionary adaptation of the Tenkarie people: their bodies were near invisible in dim light, and they could control the pulses of light just enough to attract other cave dwelling creatures to them before striking the killing blow.

Now, though, the sight made Virgil’s stomach churn. Logan’s lights were a calculated system that he had trained to hone better than most of his race: he could make any part of his body glow at a brightness ranging from a flickering candle light to a flood light, he could make his whole body radiate or he could make just the tip of one of his sixteen fingers, he could even change the color of the light with just a thought. Virgil had always been glad that Logan was the only Tenkarie that dared venture from their caves on L0-G1C; Logan’s kind had perfected the use lights and dancing which made all other creatures become so nauseated they couldn’t fight back or become so mesmerized by the swirling motions that they didn’t see the attacks.

(Of course, because Virgil was rather distinctly human, it took longer for either of the effects of Logan’s fighting to work, which had saved both their lives more than once.)

However, in contrast to the usual focus of Logan’s fingertips on the control panel, lights were flickering all over his body, up and down each of his four arms and burning from the notches around his neck. The lack of control was enough to make Virgil’s stomach churn.

“Because its Remus,” Roman replied, although it didn’t help that he said his brother's name the same way he might have said puppy kicker.

“And we care about Remus because....?” Virgil prompted, running his fingers over his satchel again, checking the latches to make sure they were still there, still closed, still containing the supplies within. “If my memory serves me correctly, Remus was the one that set us up to be ambushed by those space pirates the other week. You know, the ones that nearly killed Patton?”

“We care because, in Erefrenian customs, blood bonds are the most sacred of bonds.” Logan supplied distractedly. “And Remus invoked the Oath of Brothers, which means that if Roman were to ignore his call for aid, Roman’s honor would be forever stained which would prevent him from crossing to the planes of heroes after his death according to the religion of his people.”

“Yeah that,” Roman says, even less excited than Logan at the idea. The bone spikes along his spine had been secreting that red poison that usually only happened when he got annoyed or anxious. Virgil had learned quickly to stay away from him when he was like that: touching it merely made Virgil’s limbs feel pins and needles, but the Orlun thief had screamed until unconsciousness.

It was one of the (very) few perks of being a Deathworlder, Virgil supposed. Most of the things that hurt the other species out here usually had a looser effect on humans because humans rarely made it this far. In fact, it was illegal for humans to get this far by at least sixty doctrines (all of which Logan had filed away in his room). 

Humans were juggernauts-- the alien versions of the boogie man told to children to keep them from acting out. Virgil had seen some of the written documents about his kind, and the tales of bloodshed and terror invoked by merely existing were pretty horrifying. Graphic depictions of humans tearing aliens limb from limb, scientific studies on the amounts of chemicals that humans had absorbed and withstood against, an interview with a survivor of a human rampage who revealed the bite marks left by the so-called beast.

Almost every species out here was just as scared of him as he was of them.

The problem came from the ones that weren’t scared. 

Which, of course, was how Virgil had ended up hundreds of literal light-years from Earth, on a ship with three aliens whom he was pretty certain he would end up dying for sometime very soon. Yurinks were crafty, shameless, bold, creatures, and they were notorious for visiting Earth and abducting humans for individual sale. Weslors ran fighting rings and humans were almost always the safest bets for some quick cash. Quitans were a fan of skinwearing, which was not something that Virgil ever wanted to see, based on the name alone. And Pol’turs loved learning how things worked and paid very handsome prices for human subjects on the space black market.

Virgil, himself, had sold for 300 griot. (Which was apparently a lot, based on the way that Patton’s eyes had quite literally bugged out. Virgil was still trying to figure out the conversation ratio of American dollars to griot and getting nowhere with it.)

“I hate him,” Roman said under his breath as he threaded through the spare armored uniforms in the storage, trying to find one to fit over the rigid bone plates along his back. His tail squirmed behind him as he searched, dragging the spikes through the air. “I hate him so much.” His bone claws cut through the fabric and he growled as he tossed the ruined clothes to the floor. “We’re gonna save him and then I’m going to toss him off into space, myself.”

Logan made an affirming noise, using his lower left arm to nudge his visor back up his nose. Virgil had only caught sight of Logan’s eyes once or twice, as most light strained his sensitive eyes. They had paid a pretty griot for a repair and a spare of his light blocking visor after the first time some space smugglers had surprised them and managed to break the lens. Logan’s pained scream was the worst thing that Virgil had ever heard and he had sworn he’d do anything to avoid ever having to hear it again.

(That had been the first time that Roman and him had truly worked together on something, Virgil noted absently. Between Virgil’s uncharacteristic bloodlust and Roman’s furious wrath they had taken out the smugglers in less than five minutes and they hadn't been very nice about it.)

Looking from the back, Roman resembled a stegosaurus to Virgil. If, like....stegosauruses ran around on two legs, flourished a sword, and were prone to acting like every minor occurrence was a slight against them personally. His red-ish skin had the appearance of leather but was twice as thick, his bone plates were slimmer rounded triangles than Virgil remembered from his kindergarten picture books but they ran from the based of his neck all the way down his back and to the tips of his tail which he liked to use as a spike-ball-and-chain attack along with his ridiculous sword. Virgil couldn’t count the number of times that Roman had nearly taken him out along with the enemy. His claws were only a few inches long but Roman whined like a baby when they broke-- which was ridiculous because his bone plates literally grew back overnight, and the ones on his forearms were made to be taken off and thrown. (Logan had indeed informed Virgil that Erefren grow new bones every moon cycle and proceeded to lose the old ones which Virgil had then mentioned that humans did that too sorta! With their baby teeth! And Roman and Logan had both looked unnerved by that information.)

“I’ve got it!” A voice sang from the ceiling, which was about all the warning Virgil got before a child sized figure vaulted down from the rafters of the teleportation deck right onto his shoulders.

“Jesus! Pat!” Virgil yelled as he stumbled swaying to accommodate the new weight that had stuck itself to Virgil’s back and then wrapped around to hug his chest. “Give a guy a warning, will you?”

Patton giggled, hooking his legs around Virgil’s waist so that he could sit comfortably, swinging the two other satchels he had been sent to fetch from his hands. Roman accepted one of them readily.

“What's a Jeeezus?” Patton asked, stressing the syllables as English terms never really fit right in his tongue. As far as Virgil was aware no species were equipped to speak human languages, although Roman’s Erefren dialect involved some rolling syllables. He probably could have picked up Spanish, if Virgil hadn’t barely passed Spanish III with a C minus. 

To be fair though, that year had been bad. Janus had been in his class, and then he hadn’t. And it was hard to focus on conjugation of verbs when the golden student of the entire school who had sat next to him had been declared dead and Virgil had been the prime suspect of it.

That, and Virgil was pretty terrible at picking up new languages. He had only managed to figure out how to communicate with Logan by luck: hands raised with the fingers spread was a symbol of innocence and fear for the Tenkarie, while a sign of rage and fury for Yurink. This, of course, had also been in the middle of an illegal Weslor fighting ring which Logan had been dragged into and essentially sentenced to die in after being separated from Roman and Patton. 

(Virgil tried not to think too much about those days. Alien blood was still blood and it was very not-good to feel dripping from his hands, even if it was him or them, even if it had been his life on the line, even if it wasn’t another human with heterochromic eyes and smug smirk. Virgil had fought nearly six times before Logan had been his opponent, and that was six times too many.)

Regardless, Virgil was lucky that when Roman and Patton had come for Logan, Logan had remembered his reluctance to fight and insisted that Virgil come with them in an escape. Roman and Patton had their hesitations but Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

(And Virgil who did not understand Common, had honestly thought that Logan had come back to kill him officially. Not a good first impression.) 

Logan had made him flashcards to study from and taught him common in the sitting area of their ship. The endless hours of memorization, the drills, the sentences, all of which helped him more than he thought the others knew. They were something to do with his mind and Virgil had been in desperate need of something to do with his mind those first few months that wasn’t thinking about Earth or home or boys who were dead.

“We could go to Earth,” Logan had offered once during one of their sessions.

Virgil had blinked looking up to from the practice reading he had been studying with a bewildered look. “What?” It had taken a moment for him to realize that he had spoken in English rather than Common, but Logan must have picked up on the meaning of the foreign word anyway.

“You were… badly, ah, stolen,” Logan had said, pointing at the flashcards. “We could give you back.” He had used his lower two arms to mimic the motion of handing something off.

It had been so touching, the way that he had scaled down his speech to match Virgil’s progress, had offered despite Earth being the infamous Deathworld, had been looking at Virgil like he was living being and not just some animal. Virgil had cried.

He should have wanted to go back to Earth, should have wanted to go home, but instead he had begged in his broken, garbled Common for Logan to let him stay in space with them. And Logan had glowed nearly blindingly with purple light, a relief light, a content light, a happy light and promised that he wouldn’t have to go back if he didn’t want to.

Perhaps that had been the day the Virgil had realized he’d die for Logan.

And once Virgil had decided that for Logan it wasn’t hard to decide it for Patton too. The Reytin was just so nice. Even back in those first months when Virgil didn’t know how to talk to them and Patton had been so obviously terrified of him, the alien had made sure that Virgil was eating, that he was sleeping, that he had space when he needed it. Though, Virgil really suspected that their friendship had blossomed so quickly because of Patton's rare Reytin ability to see emotions with his frog-like eyes. Once he realized that Virgil was actually terrified of everything, and it wasn’t just ploy to kill them (or maybe despite that….Virgil hadn’t gotten a straight answer from him), Patton had done his best to befriend him back to good health. 

And Virgil liked being on the ship. He liked his room, which was filled with stupid alien plants he had managed to collect and the weird shapes of the bed. He liked being right down the hall from the kitchen so he could smell when Patton was cooking something, and the way that he could always hear Roman singing in his room. He liked slipping out to the observation deck and just seeing Space the way no other human really had. 

(Its stupid really, that sometimes he forgot it had been three years. Its stupid really, that sometimes he still turned to ask a question of someone who was never going to be there. Its stupid really that he could be so happy and still feel the gaping hole where someone used to be.)

“Oh this is so exciting!” Patton said happily, shaking his hands in the air to show his excitement. “Isn’t this exciting, guys?”

“Exciting isn’t the word I would use,” Virgil said hoisting the smaller creature from around his waist to settle him on the floor carefully.

“More like Vexing! Or perhaps burdensome! Irksome! Problematic!” Roman snarled, finally finding the armor that would fit around his plates and slipping it on. “You know what? Let’s forget it! Remus got himself into this mess and he can get himself out!”

“Now kiddo…” Patton warned, and wow, Virgil sometimes forgot that the alien who was half Virgil's height and twice as lively, was also older than all of them combined. Reytin lifespans were literally off the chart. Patton had been around way back when humans were first declared illegal on this side of the cosmos. “You know that we can’t do that! He invoked the Oath of Brothers so we have to!” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Roman griped. “Worse case, my soul just becomes eternally damned and I’m shamed by the rest of my race until I die a lonely, lonely death on some distant planet!”

“Must you be so dramatic?” Logan asked.

“You won't die alone!” Patton said, “We’ll be right there with you! Probably even die right next to you as well!”

“No offense Pat,” Roman said glumly, “But that makes me feel like I’m gonna be the cause of your death.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Thankfully before Roman could explain exactly there was nothing fun about making all his friends die, Logan cleared his throat and made his upper two palms glow with a soft blue light. Green and pink bulbs flashed up and down his neck. “I have mapped out the perceived trajectory of the enemy ship so we should be able to beam directly into the hold. However because of possible miscalculations I believe that I should be--”

“--The first to beam aboard as I am the only one who is not affected by the lack of gaseous properties and the extreme temperatures of the expanse of space.” Roman, Patton, and Virgil chorused together. 

“Must you all?” Logan asked, with just enough fondness in his tone for Virgil to know that he wasn’t actually bothered.

“Change up your speech sometime, Teach,” Roman suggested, and then he sighed dropping his head. “You guys are really willing to do this for me? These are mercenaries, you know. If this doesn’t go well they’ll likely sell us for parts.”

Virgil really didn’t need the reminder. Just the thought of once again having his arms restrained, having his clothes striped away, being reduced from a person to a thing used for entertainment, was enough to have Virgil eyeing the door back to the rest of the ship. Even on the off chance that they didn’t try to take him apart to see how he ticked, they would still sell him for griot. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, survive being thrust back into the fighting rings. He’d shake himself apart before they managed to drag him into that dust riddled death trap.

Patton reached up and tugged the edge of Virgil’s under armor tunic, drawing his eyes away from the door and down to his friend. Patton, of course, was smiling, imitating the human action of bearing his teeth (something that Logan had explained was incredibly threatening to all other species and you may want to avoid participating in that activity with Roman in the vicinity, Virgil). 

It was silly things like that that make Virgil hopelessly certain that he would do anything to protect his friends. He didn’t need to worry about being caught and sold off because the others wouldn’t let that happen again, and in turn, he wouldn’t allow them to be taken away either. They were a family, for better or worse.

(He wasn’t going to lose someone again. Not like before. Not without a fight, a trace-- not without Virgil doing every single thing he could to get them back first.)

“We’ll be fine!” Patton told Roman brightly.

“Yeah, cheer up, Princey,” Virgil added, hooking his satchel over his shoulder, “Worse case scenarios are my thing.” He offered out a folded fist, palm up and Roman dutifully knocked his own knuckles against it, as an upside down fistbump (a signal of friendship in Erefrenian). 

Patton let out a chittering and jumped up to knock his own knuckles with them. And Logan’s left forearms flickered pastel pink from the wrist up to his neck and he begrudgingly added his own to the pile.

“Everyone remembers their part of the plan, correct?” Logan asked, letting his two lower arms finish typing a final sequence into the control panel.

Patton sprung in the air, jumping Virgil’s entire height, and shook his palms. “I’ve got the emergency pods and the armory, using Virgil’s thingies to shut down the access to the lower rooms and blocking off escapes as I make my way to the medic bay!” 

“I’ve got the crew quarters to where I’ll use Virgil’s thingies--”

“Can we not call them thingies?” Virgil grumbled. “They’re just EMPs. Barely enough to take out the door locks. And it's likely they won’t do much of anything if this group has an emergency system reboot in case of an electrical surge. It’ll buy us five minutes, max.”

“--Virgil’s thingies,” Roman repeated with his tail rattling in that way that said he took pleasure in Virgil’s annoyance. “To lock as many of the doors as I can, before travelling to the cell blocks to get my brother and his crew and move them to the medic bay where Patton will have the necessary supplies ready incase of injuries.”

“I will take the Bridge,” Logan said, “and act as the major distraction, as Tenkarie are very rare and it is likely that they will have never encountered nor have preemptive measures against my Lightdancing. Once I have control of the bridge I will cut off the communications to other ships in the area and start inputting the redirection course. Once I have the new coordinates I will send them to Virgil for him to implement.”

“I’ve got the engineering deck,” Virgil said, finally, “To make sure they don’t try to blow us all up with the warp core and whatever. Then I’ll redirect the teleporting course and get us home while the rest of you take out the bad guys. Piece of cake.”

Logan’s neck notches glowed red, “There should be no stopping for cake--.”

“Idiom,” Virgil interrupted quickly, “Human saying. Means it should be easy.” 

Logan hummed musically, which sent a vibration of multicolored lights off his shoulders and down under his clothes. “Ah, interesting. This should indeed then be a piece of cake.” He picked up one of the teleportation bracelets from their charging pads and fixed it on his upper right wrist. “I’ve already added in the coordinates to the watches, so merely wait for my signal and press the button.”

Virgil would be lying if he said he didn’t have a little bit of anxiety over their plan. It was pretty slapshot compared to the things that they had put together before, but Remus’s transmission had been shoddy, even after Roman and his combined efforts to clean it up. It was hard to remember that Remus was every bit a ship captain as Roman was with how he had appeared in the picture dressed in ripped and tattered clothes, oozing green poison from his forearm plates, and bleeding profusely from a wound on his forehead. He had been leaning heavily on the communication panel, gritting his teeth through the pain, but his tail had been dancing in the air behind him in the same motions that Roman’s did when he saw a new sword to add to his collection. 

Remus had invoked the Oath of Brothers, spit up blood on the console, and then relayed as much information as he could about the attacking ship. They were lucky, in that way. Most of the Pol’tur ships followed the same base model, which meant that the Bridge was always going to be at the bottom, the engines would be at the top and the engine core center would be between them.

If it was possible Virgil was sure they all would have wanted more time to make a better plan, but they all knew that Pol’turs loved to work quickly. They had already lost three days chasing after the ship, and in that time, Pol’turs could cut apart fifty Reytins like Patton.

They were working mostly on the assumption that the Pol’turs would save Remus for near last, and they were going to be absolutely fucked if they had chosen to chop up the other Erefren first.

In addition, their plan had Virgil avoiding most of the fighting. well, as much as he could while being on an enemy ship. Virgil himself wasn’t sure how he would do in a lot of combat, but they had seen what happened when one of the others were in danger (when Logan’s glasses had broken, when the space pirates had almost shot Patton through both his hearts, when the spikes had been pulled from Roman’s spine by the Quitans before the new ones had grown in--). He could fight, and he could fight well, but the cost was a little bit of Virgil’s sanity and his ability to sleep through the night.

Patton plucked his own teleportation watch from the pad and hooked it on, before offering Virgil his. Well it wasn’t really his, the same way that the red one wasn’t Roman’s and Patton didn’t own the blue one. They were all Logan’s pet projects, but he had tailored them to their favorite colors. It felt a bit like coming home when Virgil clicked the locking mechanism into place and the screen lit up with the digital alien symbols.

“I shall see you all soon,” Logan said matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t see all the ways that their plan could go wrong. Then with barely more than a breath he clicked the activation button and his form flickered out of existence.

Roman made a nervous noise with the back of his throat, which ended up sounding a bit like the first bars of a Disney song Virgil had forgotten. Virgil gently tapped his tail with the toe of his boot, avoiding the glisten poison spikes. Roman startled just enough to laugh.

“Its funny, you know?” He said, glancing towards Virgil. “A year ago Remus told me he had taken in a Deathworlder, and I thought he was crazy. A Deathworlder? But now that I know you guys I can’t believe I didn’t get my own sooner.”

“Remus has a human on his crew?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, I wonder if you know each other!” Patton added.

Virgil bit back his original comment, and let the weight settle in his stomach. If Remus had a human in his crew there was even more of a chance that Remus was dead, because the Pol’turs had chosen to save the mysterious human for last.

“Earth is a big place,” Virgil said instead. “Like really big. They’d probably be from like Russia or something.”

At the blank stares he got, Virgil tried rewording, “We probably never have met before. Or speak the same language.”

"There's more than one human language?"

Virgil breathed through his nose, warding off a memory of rolling Rs and failed pop quizzes. "Yeah," he said, "Humans can't agree on anything."

Roman thoughtfully crossed his arms, but Patton made a chittering again and bounced, “Oh well! Now you guys are gonna meet! All the way out in space! How cool is that?!”

Virgil hid a smile in his shoulder. Trust the Reytin to find the bright side to everything. 

Roman looked like he had more questions (questions that Virgil wasn't exactly enthusiastic to answer; Earth was a sore topic for him) but mercifully each of their watches let out several musical bars from Patton’s favorite song. The alien shook his palms one last time, beaming at each of them.

“Oh this is gonna be so much fun, guys!” He said right before pressing the activation button and disappearing.

“I’m so going to kill Remus for this,” Roman grumbled, one hand on his sword hilt.

And, really, Virgil agreed with him on that. Tossing Remus into the airlock and ejecting him directly into the void sounded like an excellent plan for when they got back to their ship alive and whole and safe.

“Let’s do this,” Virgil said and jabbed his thumb into the activation button.

***

Predictably, their flimsy plan fell apart within seconds of them appearing on the ship. Starting with, exactly, Virgil did not appear in or near the engineering deck. Instead he had landed approximately two feet above a box in the Cargo hold of the Pol’turian ship, which likely meant he was somewhere left of where he needed to be.

It also meant that the Pol’turs in the Cargo Hold had a grand view of his body blitzing into existence, landing on a crate, and then tumbling off it with a lot of English cursing. It was a mere matter of luck that Virgil was able to roll his body to the side just before the first BZZZTTRRRT of their blasters went off.

(There was an actual name for the guns that most aliens used, and Virgil was pretty sure that it started with a hard K sound but he had never been able to remember it. He stuck to calling them blasters in his head, and hoped somewhere back on Earth George Lucas was proud of himself.)

The Polyfurnish of the crate hissed and sizzled as it took the brunt of the attack meant to vaporize Virgil, and the human hissed another curse as his hands dug through his satchel.

One of the Pol’turs-- the deep purple one although Virgil hadn’t truly been able to catch sight of how many there were-- shouted something in its language. Probably something along the lines of “Stop”, “Surrender”, or “Kill him”. Virgil wasn’t exactly a fan of any of those options.

He had heard them before-- too many times. The hundreds of variations of the terms spat and yelled and cheered down at him, and he scrambled away from the edge of a sword, as he tasted nothing by dust and dirt as he dodged another attempt on his life, as he desperately backed away from an opponent who couldn’t understand that Virgil didn’t want to fight, please, stop, please, I’m sorry, please I don’t want to hurt anyone--

Virgil curled up as another gold blast ricocheted off the top of the crate he was cowering behind. The air was cooler here, he told himself, the air was cooler and the floor was slicker, and he was surrounded by shelves of goods. He was not in a colosseum and he was not in a fighting ring and he was not alone.

He had the others to regroup with and no time to panic over the past here and now. Virgil gritted his teeth, remembering the feel of Roman’s knuckles bumping his, the sight of Logan’s excited lights, the sound of Patton’s laughter, and then his hand wrapped around the homemade smoke bombs in his satchel.

He yanked the pins from their sockets, wound back, and launched them over the crate into the mass of where all the shooting was coming from. Almost immediately the shoots veered off course, and the cavernous room echoed with high pitched screams. Virgil ripped his turtleneck up and over his nose and then he grabbed the edges of the nearest shelf and hoisted himself to a higher area, out of the range of the low hanging gas.

It was a pale red, near pink thing: a concoction formed by Logan out of Roman’s poison that had taken them literal years to perfect. Virgil was mostly immune to it, the same way he was mostly immune to most poisons that horrified the other species. Inhaling it made his head dizzy and his limbs a little numb, which was just unpleasant enough that he tried to avoid inhaling anything when he had the chance. Other species though...they weren’t so lucky. According to Logan, inhaling it allowed it directly into the bloodstream where it would swiftly ignite all the pain sensors in the body and could make one feel like they were being stabbed everywhere at once.

(He knew this, Logan admitted, because it had taken him many times to get it right. His scientific journals recorded experiments #1 through #357 as “unpleasant” and “ill-advised” and Virgil had nearly throttled him when he discovered that Logan had used himself as a test subject.)

Using the shelves he boosted himself another level until his head was parallel with a box of what he thought were floating Welsor hearts, before he scanned the ground under him. There were three Pol’turs on the ground writhing in pain, blasters discarded, and pale smoke floating ominous above them. Their usually languid tentacles flopped up and down on the floor like a bunch of fish out of water.

The glass container next to his hip exploded, missing him by mere millimeters. Virgil cursed as he scrambled up another level, eyes darting around to find where the hell that shot came from. His armor took much of the hit but it was sizzling with heat in a way that was decidedly not-comforting. 

“Up there!” Something shouted.

Another blast missed his ear and a container of Sblorp fangs shattered and sent the teeth spilling to the floor. Virgil kicked his feet through the lower shelf pushing through a crate and a dozen jars of various indeterminable body parts and squeezed his body in the place of them. The crashes on the next isle were rather satisfying.

He ripped the pin from another smoke bomb with his teeth, and felt his tongue buzz slightly as the proximity to the toxin before he launched it out at the direction of the other shooter. There was another scream and Virgil took the time to roll into the next isle and leap back down to the floor. 

The gas still hadn’t cleared around the original three Pol’turs, but they had gone unconscious from the pain, with a few seizing tentacles here and there. Virgil would feel bad about it, really he would, but the last time he had been in a room of Pol’turs they had been discussing how nicely his skull would look in the centerpieces of their tables and tried to buy him for 270 griot.

 His skin tingled the same way he thought it might right before he would get struck by lightning back on Earth. Virgil ignored the feeling in honor of sliding across the polished flooring to the nearest fallen mercenary and hoisting it up as a shield, while he grabbed its blaster from the floor. 

Two blaster shots sunk into his Pol’tur shield and it dissolved into ashes in his hand. Virgil cursed again, raising the blaster with his other arm and using his ash coated hand to slide the trigger, because this blaster-- like all other blasters-- were not made for human anatomy at all.

The last Pol’tur was a sickly orange color, like some type of invasive evil moss with long arms. Virgil grinned as the blast exploded forth in a dangerous golden ray of death. The heat singed the edge of his fingers, although the mild numbness prevented him from feeling much more than the slight pressure he assumed was warmth. The shot went wide, and the kickback sent Virgil to the floor, but it was enough. 

The blast shattered though several items on the shelves and Pol’tur scrambled back to avoid the avalanche of perishables-- scrambled back right into the pink fog of Virgil's last smoke bomb. It was screaming before Virgil could even sit back up.

Virgil inhaled heavily, sucking as much oxygen into his lung as he could afford and breathing it out through his nose. He squeezed his hand around the handle of the blaster, and tried to pretend like his skin didn’t feel too small. His empty hand-- the one that had held the Pol’tur-- was trembling, shaking, burning.

“I just think you’d be better off spending time with someone else.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Storm!”

“What was it like, Virgil? When you killed him?” 

His hand was covered in soot, tingling from nerves and poison and the heat of the blast that had annihilated all evidence of the living, breathing alien.  

“It wasn’t….” Virgil breathed heavily, “I didn’t….” 

He sucked in another breath, two, three, seven breaths, until he could feel the masquerading gas in the air turn his face numb, and the voices in his head went back to threatening buzzing. 

“Fuck,” he whispered softly, and pushed himself off the ground.

Virgil took the blaster with him, and made a private note to ask Logan to look into building communicators for times like this. There were an untold number of things that could have happened to get them mixed up: the Pol’tur ship could have barrel rolled at the time of, or before the final teleportation codes were in, it could have slowed or sped up, it could have marginally changed direction. All of which just proved that only stupid people like Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Patton would dare attempt a teleportation on a moving ship. Virgil tried not to think about what would have happened if his coordinates had been a little lower in space, a little closer to the box he had landed on, a little more personal and prompted whatever was inside of the crate merged with whatever was inside of Virgil.

It took him a moment to realize that the lights had started flashing an interspaced red and yellow series: a visual alarm to the crew.

“Fun,” Virgil mumbled, hugging the wall next to the exit, with one last breath, and then punching the exit lock. The hydraulics took a moment to work (probably due to excessive use of the doors and wear on the components), but it opened to reveal a brightly lit, completely empty hallway. Virgil raised his blaster, checking both the direction before he stepped out and punched the door closed behind him. Then he lined the blaster up with the door controls and fired.

You know, for safekeeping. The last thing they needed was the Pol’turs inside to wake up with a vengeance and come after them before they were off the ship. 

(If he was still on the ship by the time that they woke up, Virgil was pretty sure he’d be dead. But hey! Surprising things happened all the time when one lived in fucking space.)

The floor was springy under his feet, some mixture of carpet and flooring that Virgil didn’t know the name of, just that it was weird and he didn’t want it in his Sims House. He could feel the fibers through his shoes as he hugged the wall and sprinted towards where he thought the Engine room would be located.

He could hear the sound of more blasters echoing from the depths of the ship, some yelling, some cursing: all lovely signs that Roman was doing his best to be the most annoying moving target anyone had ever seen. Virgil found his lips curling into a smile as he faintly at the noise.

“Oh come on!” Roman taunted, “I’m a big guy! Surely, you can’t be that bad of a shot!” 

There was deafening BZZZTTRRRT, a clamorous crashing, and an ear splitting series of screams. 

Virgil flung around the last corner but in time to see Roman stand up from a kneeling position over a clump of bodies that had probably been more alive a few seconds ago. There were blaster marks all along the walls, and several had blown through a wall revealing a cozy living quarters with giant sword slices in the beddings and floors.

“Oooh, so close!” Roman said with faux-empathy bordering on smugness which at this point should just be his default to the mass. “Maybe next time you’ll think more before attacking an Erefren!” He spun at the sight of Virgil coming around the corner, pointing his sword and then shaking his tail in a greeting.

“Roman,” Virgil sighed in relief. “You okay?”

“Virgil! It seems like I got a little off course! Checked the prisoner cells but they were all empty. And then a few new friends of mine had some fun things to say about Remus.” Roman looked feral as he bared his teeth. He jabbed his sword down into the corpses and something wheezed painfully. Virgil didn’t look at them, didn’t look at them, didn’t look.

“Do you know where he is?” Virgil asked.

Roman used the edge of his shirt to wipe the blue grey blood from the tip of his blade. “Not yet, but if you give me a few more minutes with these lovely fellows of mine I will!”

It did not take “a few more minutes”. Roman hoisted on still gasping Pol’tur up by its gangly neck and it had already started blubbering in a mix of languages. Virgil watched the halls while Roman took notes from their new best friend. 

Half a minute later Roman dropped their captive to the ground with a fire in his eyes and turned to Virgil with his bone plates clinking, and dripping poison.

“He was on the Bridge.” He said, coldly, “He didn’t know if they had finished with Re or not, but he was up there”

“Okay,” Virgil said.

“The rest of his crew, Virgil,” Roman growled, squeezing the hilt of his sword. “His friends! His family!” He stared down at the shaking cowering alien life. “They..!”

The back of Virgil’s throat tasted like his stomach acids. 

Remus had tried to have them killed, he had sold them out, he had been a thorn in their side since before Virgil had become part of the team.  Between the harrowing escapes and the near deaths, it wasn’t hard for Virgil to absolutely despise him.

But his crew? His entire crew? In three days? 

Just….gone?

Condensed into the memories with a snap, removed from the future in just a blink. The initial attack on them must have been bad and bloody for Remus to call them for help, a surprise ambush type of attack. And for all Virgil hated Remus, he couldn’t help but wonder if Remus had had plans with them-- had they been discussing visiting the bars on L3-012 or shopping on K5-369 or relaxing on C2-276? Had Remus made plans with the people he had been close with and now those plans were meaningless because the people he had made them with were dead and gone and never coming ba--

The Pol’tur on the ground giggled something hysterically, one last brave blubbering comment, and Roman took the toe of his boot right into the creature's soft flesh. Its tentacles flopped on the floor with a plu-plat. 

“Virgil,” Roman hissed, without looking up.

Virgil blinked and swallowed hard, “Right, Engines,” He said, turning to go back to his task but Roman reached out and hooked his claws on Virgil’s shoulder, stopping him there.

“Change of plans,” The Erefren said, “You’re coming with me to the Bridge to get my idiot brother.”

Logan was on the Bridge too. Roman didn’t need to have Virgil come with him-- in fact, Virgil shouldn’t come with him. Too many people, too close to fighting, and Virgil couldn’t wipe away the feeling of grit on his hand. 

His entire crew. In just three days. 

Roman didn’t mention anything about how Virgil was shaking from head to toe, and Virgil didn’t point out the way that Roman’s voice wobbled with silent pleading. He just nodded at the alien and let him lead the way towards where they suspected the examination rooms would be.

Two heads are better than one, and all that. 

It was less of a guessing game when the halls and doors were labeled and Roman was very fluent in Pol’turian. Roman was quick to move, quick to sort his way through the poorly designed areas, quick to move. Virgil kept the pace as well as he could, watching the halls behind them for stragglers attempting to get the drop on them and Roman cut down anything in his way. 

Blue grey blood splattered across their shoes, filling the air with a sickly sour smell that made Virgil want to gag. He settled for squeezing the handle of the balster and counting out his breaths again as he avoided Roman’s tail striking forward at astonishing speeds and squeezing his eyes shut when he thought he saw a pair of mismatching eyes in the reflection of the lights.

There was no way for them to go quietly through the halls, not with Roman stomping hard enough to shake the entire ship and his poison attacks turning every enemy into a screaming, begging, crying puddle.

“Roman!” Virgil yelled as heat billowed around them, and the taller alien stumbled back, hit the wall and fell to his knees.

Virgil snarled at one of the mercenaries and fired three times at them. Between the near misses and the scattered yells of “Deathworlder!” they retreated into nearby rooms and locked the doors after them. Virgil tore one of his EMPs from Roman’s belt and sent it flying down the hall to keep them trapped there for a little bit, before he turned to check on Roman.

His shirt was smoldering, and one of his bone plates were cracked, but he just looked out of breath and angry, “I’m fine.” His claws scraped the floor as he stood up. “Armor took most of it.”

Virgil checked the hallway again. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, like a cancerous lump that he couldn’t get rid off no matter how much he swallowed or coughed. It pulsed to a beat that he wasn’t sure he could replicate: too fast and yet the space between each thud had felt like forever. It was so loud he almost was afraid of missing the sounds of another attack.

(An attack where Roman’s armor wouldn’t be enough, where he wouldn’t be able to wheeze off the pain, where he’d hit the wall then the floor and he wouldn’t be able to get back up and it would be all Virgil’s faul--)

Roman’s claws pricked his shoulder as he looked. With a slightly trembling hand he pointed in the direction they needed to go and Virgil did his best not to let his churning stomach get the better of him. 

“Virgil! Roman!” They both spun at the voice; Roman in particular struck out with his tail, and just narrowly avoided impaling Logan’s crystalline chest on spikes.

Logan didn’t even flinch, not that he could really. His lower arms spread with palms out to signal innocence but his upper arms were busy holding up the profusely bleeding Erefren that was leaning mostly on him. Logan’s arms were flickering with so many colors Virgil couldn’t keep track of them. (Vaguely it reminded him of a disco ball, of party lights, of something so Earthly it would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so busy trying to hold back a panic attack.)

“Remus,” Roman breathed, reaching forward, impossibly gently.

“Ro’mn,” Remus slurred, shifting his head ever so slightly. His blood was pooling down the left half of his face, his eyes were partially glassy, but other than that he looked remarkably like Roman: they shared the same face with a strong jawline, the same dark dark hair curled the same way, and the same long tail with dozens of bone plates. The only real difference was the tinge of white in Remus’s hair, the oozing green poison leaking from his bone structures in place of Roman’s red, and the gaps where someone had torn out his bone plates before Remus had grown new ones in.

“Didn’t think…” Remus’s head lulled to the side, showing off the smile he was desperately forcing on his face, “didn’t think… you were comin’.”

“I’m throwing you out of the airlock,” Roman told him.

“‘ounds fun…” Remus murmured, dropping his head back to Logan’s back, and wincing like each inhale was a battle.

“They had him on the Bridge,” Logan explained, “When I arrived, they were attempting to retrieve information from him through barbaric methods. I may have gone overboard with my retaliation.” Logan shifted Remus’s weight slightly, drawing a groan from the other alien. “I am by no means a medical examiner, however, I suspect that he may have several rib fractures, and a few wounds that need to be looked at and well bandaged.”

Roman nodded, although Virgil didn’t think he actually heard anything. Virgil was an only child himself, but he could guess that even if Remus had been the biggest asshole in the entire cosmos seeing him reduced to this weakened, bloody, broken mess was terrifying. From the stories of their childhood, Virgil had always guessed that Remus was as lively as they came. But this version of him couldn’t even stand by himself.

Roman’s head shot up, “Patton. Where’s Pat? We’ve got Re, now its time to get out of here and get him help--”

“NO!” Remus shouted lunging forward suddenly. Logan stumbled at the change of weight, nearly dropping him to the floor, but it seemed that the movement had taken most of the rest of his power. “I can’t… They have…Jay… I prom’sed…”

Virgil checked the hall for enemies because that was easier than looking at the desperation in Remus’s eyes. His voice was scratched and grated like a glass under the assault of a diamond. He coughed so violently it dragged out a glob of purple blood from him.

“Remus, you can’t--” Roman said.

And despite Remus looking like a simple breeze could end his life, he grabbed at Roman’s outreached arm, above the danger of the forearm spikes.“Me and... my crew,” Remus coughed, weakly. “The oath…” 

“I talked to one of those bastards,” Roman countered, forcibly soft, forcibly strained. “Re, your crew is--”

“Ro…” He pleaded, “Please.” 

Roman made a noise like something in him was physically shredding him apart. Virgil suspected it was his hero complex, which usually manifested the urge to save every living being he saw. Lost wasn’t a good look on Erefrens, Virgil decided right then and there. Hopeless and terrified and sad-- all of them made Roman look wrong. 

“What's wrong, Vee? You look like you want to say something.”

“....It’s nothing.”

“What? Not even a joke? Come on, I know you--”

“Let it go, Ekans.”

Virgil blinked away the unwanted memory.  He sighed out of his nose and reached up to hook on the back of Roman’s armor collar. “Let’s go.” 

“Virge…” Roman murmured.

“If we don’t do this now,” Virgil said, “We’ll regret it.” 

He didn’t wait for the others to catch up with his train of thought, or maybe he wasn’t waiting for his own train of thought to catch up. He tugged Roman back a step and nodded at Logan. “We’ll double back and find any crew that’s left and get Pat. You take Remus to the engine room room and get the codes ready for us to get back.”

“For real?” Roman said.

“Understood, Virgil.” Logan nodded back. He glowed purple softly, around his neck notches as if he had expected this after all. “Don’t be late.”

“Time is a construct.” 

Remus laughed like he was choking on a handful of rusted nails. Roman tensed at the sound, gritted his teeth, and then tightened his grip on his sword. Resolved hardened in his eyes, burning through the lost expression like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. 

“Right,” Roman said, “Let’s go.” Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand and took off in the direction they had come from. “Any guesses where the guy’s gonna be? Or where Pat is?”

Virgil felt his stomach churn. He closed his eyes and let Roman pull him along as he tried to remember the 3D diagram of a Pol’turian ship. “Well if I was in cargo, you landed near the prisoner blocks, while Logan was on the Bridge...that means that while Logan was doing the calculations the ship probably did a half roll on the longitudinal axis, which he couldn’t have accounted for. Since this ship appears to be the same as the other makes and models of Pol’turs that means that Patton probably ended up in the medical bay. And if I had to guess that’s where any last member of the crew would be as well. Take this left here.”

Roman nearly stumbled over his own feet. “How in the name of the Great God, Disney-- have you memorized all the maps?”

Virgil furrowed his brow at the alien, “Haven’t you?”

“Well yes, but--” Roman’s face flushed with a bit of his purple blood, “Nevermind, Deathworlder.”

The medical wing of the ship was easy to get to compared to the other places. It seemed that either the Pol’turs had wisened up for an ambush or they had fled when they had the chance. Either way they only came across two mercenaries and Roman made quick work of them. 

He knew they had arrived by the buzzing of air, the tingle of his skin that made him feel too big and too small at the same time. The walls were bare and there were four rooms lining them, each with a number engraved in the door and the lock panels glowing red with what Virgil guessed was the Pol’turian symbol for “closed” or “locked” or “dangerous chemical inside do not release”. Virgil reached for another EMP, but his bag was empty. There were scents around them, faint scents: something metallic, something sour, something clean, something, something, something--

Something that smelled like blood. So many different kinds of blood.

Virgil swallowed hard. He hadn’t known a lot about Remus’s crew, but he knew that Remus had had a dozen different species with him. A dozen different species that hadn’t survived the encounter. 

“Pat!” Roman yelled down the hall, brandishing his sword. 

“Roman! In here! Help--” A voice that was most definitely Patton’s yelled out.

Roman didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward to the room the voice had come from, almost feverishly, desperately, and he didn’t bother with the password. With a swift violent motion he jabbed his sword into the locking panel and then pried open the door with his claws and his hands.

Virgil thought that it would have been one hell of a sight: if he had been strapped to a table, a knife jab from death’s door, begging, pleading, crying and knowing that all his friends had been taking to the room before him and had not come back out intact? If Virgil had been bleeding out and clinging to the slippery bit of hope that was a miracle, and then he saw his captain’s brother literally prying open the door with his bare claws to get to him---

Virgil thought it would have been pretty awesome.

Not something that should have warranted a knife being thrown at them.

Roman let out a curse in Erefren and it was one of those don’t-repeat-this-don’t-tell-Patton curses that Roman specialized in. He staggered back, clutching his shoulder where the knife had sunk in all the way to the hilt, Jesus! What the hell! Virgil kicked the rest of the door open, dropping low as scalpel skirted by where his body should have been, and then he sprung back up with his blaster set on that asshole. 

Except.

“Virgil!”

The room was small, almost claustrophobically small. Just standing in the doorway made Virgil’s breath shorten (his cell back at the Welsor fighting rings had been bigger than this--). And it was lit with cold harsh white light, nearly blinding, if it weren’t for the greyed walls and the splashes-- the splashes of faded pink and blue and other colors that Virgil recognized all too well as blood. The table took up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a Pol’tur to sweep around and a small hand tray of twisted instruments.

In fact there was a Pol’tur on the ground right there. Limp and unmoving with an eye scoop so far in it’s skull there was no way it was coming back out.

But Virgil wasn’t staring at the body. 

“Don’t you get tired of being everyone’s favorite person?” 

It couldn’t--

“Just shut up and help me with these conjugations, will you?”

This wasn’t--

“What do you mean no one can find him?” 

He hadn’t--

The detective had looked at him with such a pity that it had made Virgil’s entire body flinch. He squeezed the plastic cup in his hand, crushing it, letting the fragments cut into his skin. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything. The man was still talking to him, talking softly like anything louder would shatter the fragile reality around them, talking so quietly Virgil couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying at all over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“You’re wrong,” Virgil had croaked. “He’s not dead.”

But he had been.

He had been for nearly two years now.

And everyone had thought that Virgil had done something to him, had thought that Virgil was the last to see him, had thought that his dark clothes and his eye shadow and a few sneers in the hall had meant that Virgil was suddenly capable of killing Janus Ekans in cold blood.

Except.

Except that Virgil was staring at Janus --fucking-- Ekans right now.

It was unmistakable, the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, the slimness of his nose. The wispy brown hair that turned golden under the summer sun, the mischievous eyes danced with different colors, the flick of his tongue that moved so freely when he let it, the tattoo of two theater masks on his chest that no one was supposed to know about-- Virgil could have spent days naming things, committing them to memory, staring in disbelief at him. This was the same boy who had sat next to him in Spanish. The same Janus who had been convinced he was so completely untouchable up until Virgil had dragged him off his stupid, golden pedastal.

It was the same Janus who was currently wrapped around Patton like a boa constrictor cutting off the alien’s ability to move and had a knife perched ever so closely to one of Patton’s eyes.

“What the hell?” Virgil had said because-- because--

Because Virgil had asked Logan once if there was a race that could pick through minds, pull memories from heads, change the way someone thought. And Logan didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t lie to him. There were no alien types that could break into a mind and drag illusions into reality and there were no races that could bring ghosts back from oblivion.

“Virgil,” Janus said barely a whisper, barely enough to be heard, barely enough to mean anything. The knife was tilting in his hand, tipped like he wasn’t sure what he was saying, wasn’t sure what he was doing. “What-?”

Partially drugged, Virgil thought with absolutely no room to breathe in his chest. Partially drugged, holding a knife to Patton’s weakest point, and alive. 

“Janus,” Virgil said, ”Put down the knife.”

He’s still partially strapped to the table, bound by his left ankle and sporting a lovely series of cuts on the side of his face as if someone had started carving scales into his cheek for funsies. If Virgil had to hazard a guess he would have assumed that Patton had dropped in literally as the Pol’tur was taking Janus-- Janus, alive, breathing, real-- apart one centimeter at a time, then proceeded to win a very cramped fight in the room. Virgil would even say that Patton had started taking the restraints off of Janus when he had gained enough consciousness to realize that he needed to defend himself. 

(The fact that they found something capable of drugging a human, a Deathworlder, was concerning, so concerning, terrifying--)

“Virgil….You are not real,” Janus said, slowly, blood dripping down his neck. “You cannot be real. None of this is real.”

“I’m the one thats not real?” Virgil muttered. “You’re the one that was declared dead.”

He laughed. Virgil’s stomach swooped.

For a second, a brief fleeting second, he could have sworn that this was all a dream. A fever dream in which Virgil would blink himself awake from and find himself on the floor of Janus’s stupid, giant ass room surrounded by a dozen cans of off-brand energy drinks, a half eaten bucket of popcorn, and the credits for a horror movie scrolling on the screen. For a second it felt like he would roll over and bump elbows with Janus who had woken up an hour previously to study for that stupid Spanish test that wasn’t until Monday. For a second it was like he was seventeen again and his biggest worry was figuring out if it was too weird to ask to run his hands through Janus’s silky hair.

“Of course, I was declared fucking dead!” Janus said, like it was the obvious thing that would happen, “I am dead. I have to be, because there’s no other way that the kid who's afraid of going outside made it this far into space.” 

“Janus, put down the knife.” Virgil took a step forward, a half a step, but Janus just squeezed the knife tighter. 

“Why don’t you come and make me?” Janus smiled at him, smiled, smiled, smiled.

Smiled like he knew that this was a dream and nothing he did was going to matter. Smiled like they were back on that balcony of his room with their feet swinging between the bars and two Seagrams gone each and they were going to get in a shit ton of trouble for it. Smiled like he had never been dead and Virgil hadn’t had to bury the thought of him.

Patton made a noise, a small whimper, and Virgil felt it in his chest. The near silence of the room, the soft muted buzzing in his head, the fuzzy dream like quality of reality-- it all shattered at the sound. Shattered like glass, like a mirror, like the concept of “forever”. It shattered and Virgil was suddenly hyperaware of how small the room was, how cold he felt, how metallic the air smelt. 

“Hm, just as I thought,” Janus said softly, smile dropping into something wistful and disappointed, “I really am just seeing thin--”

Virgil didn’t give him the satisfaction of finishing; he surged forward, throwing his blaster to the side, and using his left hand to catch Janus’s wrist millimeters from putting that knife in Patton. He twisted his hand, pining his fingers into the soft flesh of Janus’s nerves until his hand jerked open on reflex and the knife fell into the open air.

Janus froze, inhaling so sharply Virgil was certain that he took all the oxygen in the room away. 

He was warm, Virgil realized absently. He was warm and had a pulse and for some reason both those things made Virgil’s chest hurt. His skin was soft and his breath was sweet and Virgil had gotten punch-drunk stupid on less.

Which probably explained why, how, when, Virgil’s lips ended up on his, pressing firmly, and tasting like something from a past Virgil had thought he had given up on. Virgil had always been stupid, but this was another level of stupid. This was incredibly dumb, unbelievable, ridiculous. 

Janus’s mouth was on his, and Virgil’s hand was tipping his head back ever so slightly, and Patton had managed to scramble out of Janus’s absolutely shocked slacked hold.

“You’ve always been so annoying,” Virgil gasped between breaths, “Always thinking you know everything. Have you ever considered you might be wrong before?”

“You’re--” Janus whispered, “Real? For real?” Then, “Don’t you know what the fuck consent is?”

“Fuck you,” Virgil told him.

Janus grabbed him by his collar and yanked him forward again. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

“Don’t be cute.” 

“Don’t be coy.” Janus shot back because he was still the same asshole who needed to have the last word. He bit at Virgil’s lip, and then pulled back to show off a wolfish grin. 

Virgil was stuck somewhere between wanting to smash his stupid smug face in and wanting to kiss him until he lost all sense of direction. Janus was like that, Virgil remembered suddenly, even when they were kids, when Janus was trapped on that pedestal everyone had put him on, when Virgil couldn’t have cared less about him and somehow had ended up unsure how to live without him.

“Not that this isn’t the fucking cutest shit I’ve ever seen--“ A voice behind them called and Virgil stiffened.

“Language!” Patton interrupted, as Roman grunted through the pain of still having a surgical knife in his shoulder. 

“--But can the two of you save your weird-ass….human…. greeting custom…. for some other time?” The Erefren snarled with one hand clutching the hilt and then yanking it out with a wheeze that Virgil felt physically. His purple blood spouted out from the wound but Roman didn’t seem to care, beyond tossing the knife to the floor.

“That’s an Erefren,” Janus said because he’s just as good at stating the obvious as he is at kissing. “That is not Remus.”

Roman snapped out something in his native tongue, which by the stress on the syllables was probably not nice and definitely not Patton approved. The Reytin even puffed up, shaking his head in a way that normally prefaced an hour long lecture on manners and the reintroduction of a swear jar. 

However, Janus just laughed that pretty stupid little laugh of his but when he opened his mouth the words were all forgein. It took Virgil a moment to catch up, a moment to realize that he hadn’t even fumbled, that Janus had actually spoken Erefrenian and it had been grammatically correct enough that stunned Roman for a whole half second. 

“You speak Erefrenian?” Virgil asked.

Janus blinked up at him a smug looking expression on his face. “You don’t?”

Virgil had a good response, he did. It was a response that had been some-three years in the making and Virgil had been ready to wipe that prideful expression of his face. But before they could do anything the entire ship lurched to the side, taking gravity with it. Virgil let out a yelp and grabbed for Janus and clung for stability.

(Space had done wonders for Janus’s abs, Virgil thought distantly.)

Roman slammed into the door frame and stumbled out into the hall, with all the grace a drunken ballerina, and cursed again when Patton landed on top of him.

“That’s our cue to leave!” Roman growled.

“Ya think?” Virgil shot back. He lunged for the end of the table where Janus’s bare foot was still strapped to the table. He didn’t look at the rusted color on the buckle, at the stiffness of the leather strap, at the rawness of Janus’s skin where it was biting into his ankle. He didn’t, didn’t, didn’t--

His hands shook. Janus reached over and clasped his forearms, the fabric of his tunic, him. 

“Virgil--” Janus said, softly, unsuredly, with no trace of that previous pompous expression on him. “I--”

There was blood on his face, trailing all the way down his neck in scarlet silvers from the cuts. His hair was sweat matted, pressed and tousled in a way that made Virgil feel a certain rage in his chest, like someone had been running fingers through his curls while they sliced him apart. His eyes were still slightly glassy from whatever they put in him. There was an unspoken question on his lips, in his eyes, through his fingers as he clung to Virgil. 

“I’ve got you,” Virgil told him, practically scooping him up. Janus heaved a breath as his feet touched the ground again. “Us humans have to stick together, right?” 

Janus Ekans was alive. 

It sounded surreal even in the moment, because Virgil had been mourning him since they were seventeen and stupid. Everyone else had moved on, had buried his memory, had forgotten about him. But he was not dead, and Virgil had not killed him. Somehow he had ended up in space, ended up with Remus, ended up here on this ship in the several billions of lightyears from anything they had known previously.

There would be no more late-nights-turned-early-mornings study sessions, no more sneaking over the gated walls of the Ekans mansion, and no more scaling the lattice underneath Janus’s balcony. They were never going to go stargazing on the hills outside of town again, never going to ruthlessly text each other under the desk during History class, never going to skip prom together to go trespassing in the woods somewhere to find Mothman. He was never going to butcher Spanish past participles in the cozy corner of the school library after hours and he was never going to get to listen to Janus brag about obtaining his Seal of Biliteracy finally despite his proficiency in about three languages. 

Janus had disappeared right before senior year. And Virgil, who had been the biggest thorn in his side, the biggest instigator of all their fights, the wild and unruly punk kid that lived in detention-- Virgil had stopped looking for him. Because everyone said he had died. Because everyone said that Virgil had killed him.

But Virgil could feel Janus’s pulse, could hear his heartbeat, could see the way his chest moved as they stumbled out of the room. 

Part of him was afraid that if he let go now, later, ever, Janus would disappear again. Shimmer and fade like a mirage in the desert.

“Careful Virgil,” Janus said breathily. “I almost think you missed me.”

“I hate you so much,” Virgil said back, as Roman and Patton led the way toward the engine rooms by blade and alien jujutsu and well-placed pun.

“Somehow, I don’t think you mean that, at all.” Janus said, grinning.

And then he closed that last little bit of space between them again.

[Next installment: Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 140

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire go sailing in the Whitsunday Islands and when they arrive at the outer reef, he drops anchor and they go snorkelling in an underwater wonderland of delight.

Chapter 139  and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  

My THANKS and APPRECIATION to all those who are reading, liking, reblogging or taking the time to leave a comment. I am extremely thankful for your support of this story and for many of you I am very grateful for the longevity of your patronage.  

 CHAPTER 140 (S)

 Jamie anchored the yacht at Hardy Reef not far from where they had set off from Airlie Beach this morning. The Reef was renowned as home to the iconic “Heart Reef” however, they couldn’t snorkel or swim there due to its protected nature. Jamie knew he would have to take his Sassenach up in a sea plane to see that romantic spectacle from the air, and she could also see the reef in its entirety of where they’d anchored.  Situated in shallower waters with protection from the surrounding sea conditions this reef had its own ecosystem. He knew that Claire would be able to see magnificent coral in the water as well as a number of ledges and caves covered with fans and soft corals for her to explore.  There would be spectacular marine life as well as the Giant Maori Wrasse with the hump head not found in open areas when they went snorkelling, not to mention a myriad of beautifully coloured fish.

As he dropped the anchor, Claire walked over to the side of the boat and leant over the railings. Her eyes were captivated with what she saw in the water. To her delight she noticed a school of tropical fish in the pristine blue water and she couldn’t take her eyes off the way they darted here, there and everywhere.  

“Jamie,” she called out.  “Come here, you need to see this.”

In next to no time James Fraser was standing beside her thoroughly enjoying the joy radiating from his Sassenach as she peered into the water at the fish swimming about.

“Amazing isn’t it?”

Claire turned around when she heard him speak with a huge smile on his face.  Then noticing what he had in his hands she glanced up at him and them back at the snorkel masks and fins dangling from his fingers.

“Breathtaking.  I can see right to the sea floor.”

“Well then Sassenach … Care to be adventurous and jump in?” Jamie asked dropping the snorkel gear to the deck then wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I am,” she replied happily stripping off her kaftan to revel a tiny two-piece swimsuit that had Jamie’s eyes wandering over her sexy curves in appreciation.

“Are ye trying tae kill me Sassenach? Ye look stunning in that we slip of a bikini.”

“Not any more than you are Fraser in your swimmers,” she replied cheekily admiring Jamie’s fine form in his red swimming trunks.  

She saw the piercing look he’d given her when he saw what she was wearing and couldn’t help but grin knowing that it took very little to arouse James Fraser since they had been on their downtime here in paradise. His eyes were intense as they scanned her figure as if he was mentally undressing her right where she stood. Claire could feel his gaze as if his hands were caressing her body and she felt her pulse race as colour flooded her cheeks.  This James Fraser was dangerous and if he wanted to take her then and there on the deck of the yacht … well she knew she wouldn’t resist him.

His Sassenach was an ethereal goddess standing there in that wisp of material that accentuated her gorgeous curves and figure and left very little to the imagination.   Jamie felt a little primal; his heart rate accelerated and his body stirred in recognition of his mate. However, trying to keep his emotions in check, he reluctantly turned and sat down to put on his fins as Claire watched amused at his antics.

James Fraser seemed to be all fingers and thumbs and, if she was not mistaken, he had uttered a few terse Gaelic swear words in the process. It always amused her to see him off kilter as it was so out of character to his Section One persona.  It proved he was human after all and not the robotic killing machine Madeline and Operations required of him. She loved seeing this side of him knowing that he was vulnerable around her.  Claire watched amusedly as he struggled to place the fins on both feet and when he stood up and tried to walk over towards her, she couldn’t help herself and began to laugh.

“You look like a duck Jamie with those huge fins on your feet.” She placed a hand to her mouth to try and suffocate another laugh from bursting from her throat.

“Well may ye laugh Sassenach, but ye are going to look like one too once ye have these on. Come, sit down and I’ll put on yer fins Cinderella,” he teased with a huge grin on his face.

Sashaying over to him and sitting down, Claire placed her foot forward as Jamie knelt on the deck before her cupping one foot in his hands. Ever, so slowly he glanced up at her with hooded eyes as his fingers leisurely stroked up and down her calf muscle before massaging the sole of her foot. Then without warning he leisurely lifted it up to his mouth and his teeth took a wee nip at her big toe which had Claire in a spin of feelings.  Her heart was racing in her chest. The fact that he always seemed to find a different way of unnerving her was what keep her on her toes to how she responded to his actions. Claire hadn’t realised how seductive taking a bite out of one’s toes could be until Jamie had just done it. His alluring exploits had a way of making her body react in visceral ways to his teasing. Leaning forward she placed a hand on his head tugging at his curls and twisting them in her fingers as she let out a mewing sigh. Although tempted to kick out at him and topple him over, she didn’t for she was helpless against this man’s seduction techniques every single time.

Her voice was breathy in response, “Jamie we’ll never get in the water if …”

“If what … Sassenach?” he replied with a slight raise of his eyebrow in his oh so sexy voice as if to say he was not quite sure just what it was she was insinuating.

“If you keep doing that.”

Jamie laughed at her slight discomfort but he knew that he needed to jump in the water to cool off or his Claire would be the recipient of more than just some toe biting if they stayed on the yacht.  His thoughts were running rampant as to what type of temptation he could use this time to tease his love.  Nipping at her toes could certainly be a catalyst to foreplay but instead he cooled his libido. Smiling suggestively at Claire, he quickly placed both of the full pocket fins on her feet and reluctantly stood up.

“The view will be a lot better in the water to see the fish mo ghràidh, but be careful … they might nip at your toes,” he added in jest.

“Not in these fins they won’t Fraser …  I think I will be safe.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aware of his change of tack, Claire laughed again when she got up because it felt as if she too was walking like a duck just as Jamie had before. Her giggles were infectious and he too joined in her chortles.  Still laughing, he took her hand in his as they both waddled to where they could jump into the water from the back of the yacht. With the snorkel masks in his hand they stood side by side on the platform, however, Claire was a little hesitant when she looked at the distance from the yacht to the water.

“You jump in first Jamie.”

“Are ye sure ye dinna want me tae hold yer hand Sassenach? We can do this together.”

“No, I want to watch you.”

Giving her a nod, he slid calmly, flippers-first into the water with the full-face masks in his hand and Claire laughed as droplets of water splashed all over her from his jump into the sea. She looked over the edge of the yacht, watching him emerge with a wide grin on his face.

“Come on in Sassenach, the water’s great!”

His enthusiasm was just what Claire needed to calm her nerves. She stared at the crystal, clear water glittering in the sunlight like diamonds on the surface. The very thought of plunging herself into the turquoise, blue water was seducing her senses to jump in too, and the fact that Jamie was waiting for her made her shiver with excitement.

As if reading her mind, he called out again, “Ye can do it mo nighean donn.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” she muttered taking another look at the depth that she had to jump.

However, Claire chewed her lower lip, biting back a grin. She was excited to see the pretty tropical fish she’d been watching up close and personal over the railing and taking a deep breath, she took the plunge and jumped into the water.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her nervousness soon dissipated as quickly as her awareness of just where she was, and what she was doing became apparent. Bopping her head above the water, Claire laughed with pure elation. She was in the middle of the ocean and all she could hear was the water gently splashing against their boat.  Treading water, she looked down and could see an array of tiny fish swimming past her.  She felt a fish tickle her leg as it weaved between her legs and this made her laugh even more. It was all so amazing. The water felt wonderful, it was refreshing and cool and washed over her figure like one of Jamie’s gentle caresses.  She felt weightless for the water buoyed her body, then stretching out her arms she kicked out her legs breaking through the water with ease. The fins helped considerably; they were comfortable, light and the blades gave her great agility in the water when she kicked her feet. It felt so exhilarating to be swimming as if she was gliding effortlessness through the water like a mermaid.  It was joyous and carefree just like her life had been with this wonderful man over the past week and the few days they’d been here in the Whitsundays.

Spotting him watching her, Claire swam over to him and with eyes bright and shining with mirth she treaded water once more.  

“Enjoying that are ye Sassenach?”

“It’s wonderful Jamie.  I feel so alive.”

James Fraser chuckled for he felt the same way.  He was thrilled that his love had recovered from her trauma and that they were relishing these carefree days spent together. He handed Claire her full-face snorkel mask that allowed her to breathe both through her nose and mouth so that her breathing under water was as easy as it was on land. Jamie watched as she brushed away any wet hair out of the way and placed the mask over her face.

“Here let me help ye adjust the strap Sassenach.”

Positioning the mask on her face he made sure that it was tight-fitting on her cheeks and jaw by adjusting the elastic fabric headbands. However, at the same time he didn’t miss a chance to caress her face as his fingers once again felt wonderful against her skin. Once her mask was in place, he encouraged her to test it out under the water.

“Go on, take a wee look below.”

Dipping her head in the water she was pleasantly surprised when the mask didn’t fog up. It was air tight and no water could get in under the seal. The full-face mask was so comfortable on her that she didn’t realise she was even wearing one. Claire gave Jamie a thumbs up that all was okay, then he put on his own mask with his GoPro camera attached so he could capture the moments of their underwater snorkelling adventure and watched as Claire immersed her face under the water once more.

Her eyes widened at the breathtaking sight before her, for she had a crystal-clear vision and 180-degree panoramic views whilst underwater of an undersea wonderland.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A new world magically materialised before her eyes through her snorkelling mask. As she swam along the edge of a coral-covered rock shelf, she spied so many beautiful fish in every imaginable colour of the rainbow and patterns swimming beneath her.  There were vivid blue, red, orange, purple and green coloured fish scurrying in and out between the coral, seaweed and anemones whilst hiding from predators camouflaged against the coral background. Many of the fish seemed particularly attracted to twin coral sculptures in shades of violet and green. She saw the pretty little Clown Fish with its bright orange scales and a glowing white band darting through the dancing tentacles of sea anemones in which these little fish made their homes in safety. There were pink, red, yellow, brown, multi-coloured and black-and-white striped fish swimming happily in the water chasing each other and playing tag amongst the coral.

Reaching out her hand, her fingers almost brushed the school of fish before they scurried away.  The Reef was teeming with life and it was this snorkeler‘s paradise. Claire saw fish of all sizes as well as one with thick bulging lips and a huge hump on its forehead.  Her eyes darted every which way watching the frenzy of colourful fish until she saw a fish nibbling on coral.  She swam closer and watched the little, bright coloured fish with a face that looked like a parrot busily going about its day cleaning the reef by nibbling on some dead coral and spitting it out.

Between the schools of kaleidoscopic fish darting through the staghorn metropolis of coral and the gentle sea fauna playing tug-o-war with her attention, Claire was captivated by the spectacle before her eyes. Floating above the water she saw a clustering bed of different shaped and sized coral some in vivid colours, some fading while some sadly were bleached. Cream, pink, blue and green coral that looked like cauliflower, bulbs of brain coral, orangey-brown coral growing like fingers or tree branches, large dome shaped coral with wide, slit-like mouths that looked just like mushrooms and small, stony coral in a rounded hump shape were to be seen.  Sadly, she he saw a deadly Crown of Thorns starfish attached to a piece of coral, as well as sea urchins, sponges, sea stars, neon-lipped clams, crustaceans and other shy organisms hiding between the rocks, while only venturing out when she had swum by. The Great Barrier Reef was home to a third of the world’s soft corals, and Claire spent an inordinate amount of time mesmerised by what she could see in the breathtaking coral garden.

As she snorkelled about, the one fish that really caught her eye was a thin bodied, striped, bright yellow, fish with an elongated nose.  The fluoro yellow Butterflyfish dived for cover as she hovered over it, navigating its body through smaller passages to feed on the coral polyps and algae, but then decided that she was no threat and emerged fearlessly followed by a classroom-sized school of friends. She noticed that they often swam in pairs and wondered if like other animals they mated for life. It was fascinating to watch all the species of brightly coloured tropical fish and Claire was amazed at how funny and mesmerizing they were.

Surfacing for a while she cast a glance over at Jamie who had also surfaced and taken off his mask.  She noticed that he had the biggest grin on his face.

“So, how was it Sassenach?” he asked, his eyes softening with love for this woman.

Delighted and in awe at the tropical life blossoming in the ocean, she couldn’t contain her enthusiasm for what she had seen. Claire turned around and pushed her mask onto her head. Her eyes were bright, cheeks a little flushed from excitement as she said, “It was incredible Jamie.”

“Aye ‘twas … and I have the pictures tae prove it Sassenach.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Having placed their masks back on the yacht, the two lovers enjoyed some free time as they both frolicked and swam in the distinctive, crystal clear, aqua blue waters of the reef. They laughed and splashed each other and Claire watched as Jamie dived under the water disappearing out of sight only to resurface near where she was treading water.  He gathered her slick wet body against his, and wrapping his arms around her waist, held her close to him giving her a kiss on the lips. Claire’s arms went up around his neck allowing Jamie to support both of their weights as the two of them floated together in relaxed abandon like two little otters holding hands side by side. It was so liberating just floating and drifting on top of the ocean to the gentle movement of the water, that Claire felt an outer body experience.

Being here with Jamie had been the best thing they had ever done but she knew that their time was finite.  They would eventually have to return to Section One to complete their mission and with that return would come the boundaries that would test them once again.  They had both recovered remarkedly well and the two of them were physically fit and rested. His wound had healed and together they had conquered their demons.  They were back to their optimum ability and if their sexual performance counted for anything, they certainly had an abundance of stamina.  However, they only had a few days left before they would have to leave this paradise … and that made her sad but determined to enjoy every last moment of their downtime.

It was the thought of that, that made Claire suddenly begin to sink under the water, however, Jamie had seen her begin to flounder and had reached out to her.

“It’s okay mo nighean donn, I’ve got ye.”

Jamie’s voice and the feel of his strong arms around her prevented her from going further down. When she opened her eyes, Claire felt her breath catch in her throat. James Fraser’s eyes were watching her and the warmth and tenderness of his gaze made her heart do little flip flops in her chest.  

Grabbing onto his arms, her lips bowed in a smile. “I know,” she softly replied never taking her eyes from his face.

His eyes tenderly canvassed her face before shaking his head causing water to splash out all over her face.  Claire couldn’t help but laugh as his riotous curls fell over his cheeks and into his eyes. The temptation to brush away that hair and run her fingers through the rest of his curls in the process was irresistible for her.  She had never seen this gorgeous man look so happy and relaxed.  She loved seeing him like this and she loved everything about him when he was in this mood.  

Jamie laughed too. “Are ye ready for yer next adventure Sassenach, ‘cause we need tae get ye back on the yacht and sail to our next destination.”

Wrapping her arms around him Claire pulled Jamie into a crushing embrace. “Aye, Aye captain … Je Suis Prest … I am ready.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The view here at the reef was stunning but none more so than his beautiful Claire. They’d enjoyed swimming and snorkelling off the yacht but now his love sat nestled between his legs as Jamie dried her wet hair with a towel after their swim in the aqua waters. Closing her eyes Claire smelt the salt of the ocean on his skin and the heady pheromones of this virile man, and despite his tempting body, she felt a tingling warmth radiate from him. It was intoxicating.  He was intoxicating.  Claire tilted her head forward as Jamie held her head in his hands gently rubbing her hair and lovingly drying her tresses after their swim. Positioned between his thighs she was so contented with the gentle massage of his fingers against her scalp and temples that she could have stayed there forever just having her man do what he was doing.  When he took the towel away, she leaned back against his stomach as he leaned forward closer to her face. Smiling at her, he ran his fingers through her hair letting the damp strands fall through his fingers like liquid chocolate.

Brushing her hair away from her face Jamie held Claire’s jaw in his palm while nonchalantly stroking her cheek with his thumb.  Leaning even closer he looked into her eyes and held her gaze as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Claire smiled and her lover reciprocated with a smile that lit up his face.  

Oh god how she loved this man. His gentleness tore at her heart strings. Her eyes caressed every inch of his beautiful face taking him in from his warm, blue coloured eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled, to the furrows that wrinkled his forehead, to the beard stubble peppering his defined jawline. It was hard to believe how much he’d changed since being here for Jamie was a different man under the veneer that he showed at Section One.  She now knew the real James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser and this man was her everything.  He was the one who had her heart and for that she was thankful.  Jamie was hers and she was his.  She loved him with every fibre of her being.  

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Continuing with his gentle caresses to her face, Jamie never severed his eyes from her own as the sun naturally dried Claire’s tresses in no time. Her beautiful brown hair had always fascinated him and in the sunlight the colours of auburn and light brown had captivated his eyes.

“Mo nighean donn,” he whispered as he gathered a handful of her hair and let it slide through his fingers once more.

The way that Jamie said this Gaelic endearment was so sensual. It sounded like a caress to her ears, softly spoken with awe and reverence. She leaned into his hand and rested her head on his thigh as her love continued to touch her hair. He caressed her head and neck with his fingers before leaning down to gather tiny wisps of hair between his fingertips on the back of her neck. Claire felt every single touch ignite those happy feelings that swirled in her stomach.  

Placing a kiss against the top of her head, he whispered it again, “My brown-haired lass.”

Claire was overcome with emotion. “Rather a dull colour, brown, I've always thought,” she replied not quite believing the compliment he was giving her. Kissing her neck, he inhaled the scent of his woman “No.”

“Really?”

“No, not dull at all. It's like the ...” He stumbled for the right words to say. “It's like the ... the water in a burn, the way it ruffles down the rocks.”  

His fingers splayed her head and Claire closed her eyes as delicious sensations coursed through her body. Jamie was weaving another one of his spells over her and she felt all gooey inside when he spoke in his beautiful Scottish drawl.  It did things to her equilibrium. The more he spoke the more she was captivated by the words he was saying.

“Dark in the wavy spots with ... wee bits of auburn when the sun touches it.”

Claire leaned back and Jamie pressed his lips tenderly to hers then withdrew them. She sighed when next his tongue licked at her lips in invitation to part, which they did on a soft gasp.  Gentle, leisurely kisses continued. Reaching out her hand Claire touched his hand and closing her eyes kissed his palm bringing it to her face. Placing his other hand under her chin Jamie’s thumb caressed her there, then ran his fingertips down her ear to her jaw. Never severing their gaze, he leaned down and kissed her eyelids. She pulled back, taking him in properly for the first time. Enamoured with this man’s tenderness Claire looked at him with her emotions blazing in her eyes.  James Fraser was a magnificent specimen of manhood and his caring gentleness warmed her heart to bursting.

Once Jamie had stared these kisses he couldn’t stop until he had anointed every inch of her beautiful face.  His lips kissed her forehead before showering sweet kisses all over her face. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her brow and ear before repeating his ministrations once more.   Claire could not take her eyes from him as Jamie continued his enticement by running his hand back along her forehead which he’d just kissed. With his hand still holding her chin, he bent down and kissed her on the lips while her fingertips pressed against his chest where she could feel his heart beating erratically.

Claire was lost in her feelings for her man’s slow seduction and she leaned back into Jamie’s arms and rested her head on his thigh. Then capturing his other hand, she nestled into him with contentment written all over her face. She never wanted this day to end.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 21st August when Jamie and Claire continue on to their next destination.

*Just a little picture of Heart Reef which is located in Hardy Reef.

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 11

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Fluff? Pining? Some peace and beauty? A/N: My brain is broken, I think. Ask or reblog if you want a tag.

11. Disassociative

...   Reader   ...

Refusing to give up hope, Loki waits a few days more before finally accepting there’s nothing the Älfir can do to fix Jotunheim and so the two of you will “take your leave”, as he puts it. You have a theory at least the druids who have been on the job quite like the decision even if they and everyone else make pouting faces and cooing noises.

“They’re unhappy to see you leave,” your companion scoffs, “they even intend to throw a feast.”

Jealous it’s not because of you? “That’s sweet of them. When...?”

“Tomorrow.”

...

An entire host of giggling Älfir have been entertaining themselves at your expense during the afternoon. Well, you say “expense” but honestly you’ve been enjoying the pampering and (literally) otherworldly beauty treatments even if it was a bit much at times – you certainly didn’t appreciate when they attempted to colour your hair. All your hair. Eventually, they accepted the boundaries and as they study you now, it seems the group is pleased with the results because they laugh and smile and clap their hands as they lead you to the gilded mirror.

Oh wow. Somehow, they’ve managed to pick a strapless dress with a figure hugging bodice where magic must be involved to keep the few layers of silk in place, silk that flows down into a short train on the back while the front sports a dangerously high slit splitting along your left thigh when you walk (barefoot like all the Älfir you’ve seen). The dress is gorgeous. Revealing, but in a tasteful way which would make any person with eyes ogle the wearer and you just know how Loki will appreciate the golden colour scheme with moss-green details.

“I can’t wear this!” He can’t see me like this!

But the Älfir don’t understand you – or they pretend they can’t – and usher you along down the hallways and through half the temple until you reach a terrace overlooking the landscape bathing in the descending sun.

Several people have already gathered and you recognize some as higher ranking druids and acolytes. Near the banister at the other side of a long table (decked with crystal and silver) stand the Priestess and Loki, the latter has his back turned towards the entrance but she sees you. Arching a purple eyebrow, the smirk she flashes seems to be one of approval which is nice...but it’s not her reaction you’re worrying about.

Someone, a chocolate-eyed male wearing the colours of the attendants, distracts you by offering a tall glass of something fizzy with slices of fruit in it and you have no way to tell him that your stomach’s one big knot of nerves and it will be impossible to get anything down! By the time he leaves, he’s bowed at least thrice and is smiling from ear to ear. Following him with your eyes, you see the rolling hills with dots of groves and splashes of forests stretching towards the ocean in the distance, and you don’t even notice it when you walk across the sun-heated stones to the edge of the terrace. What a view! Clear colours as far as you can see.

To think that Earth once was like this before humans started building huge, grey boxes of concrete and...you hesitate, accepting there probably never has been another place like Alfheim. And maybe I’ll never see this beauty again. The awaited departure is bittersweet. Unable to communicate, you haven’t exactly made friends with anyone but there has been nothing but kindness woven into each interaction.

“Hrm.” A familiar presence announces itself behind you. “It’s time to be seated.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks when you turn, allowing Loki to guide you to the appropriate spot by the table where you manage to suppress a groan because you find yourself placed between him and the Priestess. This’ll be a looooong dinner.

It is. Thankfully, it’s not as awkward as you had feared.

When the stars have come out, trying to outshine the moons on the inky sky and their light refracted in tall crystals spread haphazardly across the table and terrace, you feel happy for a moment. Bulging plates of fruit are still left for people to nibble from (to keep the drinks company) but most of the Älfir have left to do whatever it is magical, druidic aliens do at this hour.

You don’t mind. No one is talking to you (the Priestess is long gone and Loki is distracted by someone else), and the quiet is welcome as you wander across the still warm stone tiles to have a peek at the moat and the flowering bushes below near the temple walls. No one will believe me when I tell them about this place. The annoying voice in the back of your mind is bitching at you to use “if” rather than “when” but is silenced easily – probably calmed by the serenity of the place. Right now, this moment under the otherworldly sky, there is no noise to disturb you. No meaningless chatter or worries. In fact...there’s no chatter at all.

Turning slightly to look, you see only Loki left now. A glass of wine cradled between the long fingers. His sharp gaze fixed on you. In the sparse light, the god is stunning beyond the beauty of the Älfir while never losing the calculative darkness which you used to find sinister. Rather than being threatening, the eyes glinting in the firelight are hypnotic and you have to look away to avoid getting lost in them completely.

...  Loki  ...

Sly shrew. There was no doubt in the god’s mind who he wanted to blame for the predicament. The lavish attention bestowed upon both himself and [Y/N], the saying gleam in the Priestess eyes, and not least of all the seating arrangement during the feast which the Midgardian was and is blissfully unaware of: to the Älfir, their visitors are a couple. And as Loki watched the light shimmer on the frustrating, golden dress? He should have corrected the mistake discreetly, but ended up not saying anything at all.

Perhaps it is a part of [Y/N]’s magic that unnoticeably soothes the ache of a damaged soul and glues the pieces of broken hearts together. Or, the Jotun admits, perhaps it is he who has simply been smitten by her personality, amused by the stubbornness to the point where even that becomes a charm. Either way...I’m a changed man. She’s taming the monster I was and then what will I be? It hardly matters as long as it’s something she will be proud to see.

Setting the glass aside, he comes to stand behind [Y/N]. She doesn’t shy away, not even as he softly lays a hand on her shoulder and steps closer to share the view she’s admiring.

“You have done well, pet.” The words vex him as they aren’t what he truly wants to say. “If you...want to stay here rather than continue then I shall arrange it for you.”

A weight nestles in his chest and his eyes are unseeing while waiting for the woman’s reply. Underneath his hand, her warm shoulder stills together with her breath before slowly relaxing and it almost feels as though she’s leaning into his touch despite the improbability of such an action.

“It is beautiful here,” [Y/N] admits, making Loki’s hopes plummet, “but I’d be lonely and restless. There’s so much more to see out there.”

Finally daring a glance, her profile out-dazzles the stars beyond, challenging him not to forget his place. “If that’s your choice -” he tears himself away from the breathtaking vision- “let us get some rest...we’ll leave at dawn.”

He is painfully aware of the woman’s warm presence as they walk side by side to the chambers and when they part, bidding goodnight in hushed voices, the absence is solidified by the cool as it slowly steal back into his body.

[sailorfailures]

April 17th is Rei Hino/Sailor Mars’s Birthday!

So how can you celebrate?

♂ Rewatch or reread your favourite Mars-centric chapter, episode, or musical! As one of the earliest established characters, she has several key episodes in the 90s anime. Try episode 010, her introduction; 054, where she reveals her passion for songwriting as she stages an idol-like performance at her school’s culture festival; 070, where she saves enemy Koan from self-destruction; 090, the first episode of S, where she is targeted for her Pure Heart; 103, where she works hard to convince a renowned taiko drummer to perform at a local festival; 152, where an excitable young girl models herself after Rei’s every move; or 183, where she goes camping to visit her sculptor cousin in the mountains. You can also find the Rei-centric manga side stories Casablanca Memory (volume 2) or Rei & Minako’s Girls School Battle (volume 1) in the Sailor Moon Short Stories manga anthologies.

♂ Sailor Mars has several official image songs across different canons you can play for her big day:

90s anime: Eien no MELODY [“Eternal Melody”] (Dic produced an English song for Sailor Mars with the same melody, called Oh Starry Night); Sei · Hi  · Ai ~FIRE SOUL LOVE~ ["Holy · Fire · Love ~FIRE SOUL LOVE~”]; Watashi no “Hito” Gingahen [“The One, Arranged by the Heavens”]; Honoo no Sogekisha (FLAME SNIPER) Musicals: Honoo no MESSENGER [”Flame Messenger”] PGSM: Sakura Fubuki [”Cherry Blossom Storm”]; Hoshi Furu Yoake ["Stars Falling at Dawn”] Crystal: Hi no Umi ["Ocean of Fire”]

Here’s a playlist of all these songs and other Sailor Mars BGM cues!

♂ Why not go out on a dare and try Rei’s favourite food - puffer fish. If you’re not confident in the toxicity of fugu in your area, she also likes all Thai food, so you could visit your favourite local Thai restaurant. Her least favourite food is asparagus, but only the tinned kind - so try and hold off for the day.

♂ Rei has many hobbies, a “jack of all trades” thanks to her dream of being a high-powered multi-career woman. She is shown to be a competent singer-songwriter, even if it takes her a lot more effort than she pretends. Since she dreams of someday making it big as a musician, why not support local talent and see a live show for her birthday?

Rei relies a lot on her ESP and sixth sense, receiving premonitions through dreams and by scrying in flames, but Rei’s favourite method of divination is actually tarot readings. You could shuffle through a deck yourself for a self-reading, or find someone online or in your area who can perform a reading for you.

You may think of Usagi or Minako as the resident “fangirl” of the series, but Rei is a closet nerd herself; she has a large collection of Sailor V manga, and is enough of a fan of the Takarazuka revue to own photobooks. Celebrate by rereading your own favourite manga series or by watching a Takarazuka stage performance.

As a representative of Hikawa Shrine, Rei is very community-minded, volunteering herself for public events, festivals, etc. The subsequent publicity for the shrine and springboard for her own career is obviously not a factor... In her (fiery) spirit, why not involve yourself in your own community-run events and services, volunteering your time and skills on a recurring or one-off basis?

♂ Dress like Rei for the day! Rei has a very forward-focused, goal-oriented personality she likes to show through her clothes, with bold colours, dramatic cuts, and sharp or form-fitting silhouettes. Because she is an expert at tailoring her presentation to the time/audience, her style can vary from cute and innocent to mature and businesslike based on how she wants to be perceived, but common wardrobe staples include miniskirts, tailored tops, statement jewellery, and a killer high heel. She favours vivid colours like reds, purples, mustards, and black.

As Sailor Mars, she wears chunky 80s throwback earrings in the shape of stars (5-pointed to start in the anime, 6 pointed from Super form and in the manga, 4 pointed in PGSM) and iconic red stiletto heels. Her nails are shown to turn firetruck red from her second transformation onwards. Her image colours are red and purple.

♂ In the 2004 live-action Sailor Moon series known as PGSM, Rei wore a name charm bracelet made of beads and crystals that was very important to her and later allowed her to transform. Why not make your own name bracelet with your favourite colours and birthstone beads?

♂ Fav and read some Sailor Mars fanart and fanfic on sites like Pixiv, Twitter, and AO3 - or contribute your own new content! Don’t forget to tag!

Feel free to reply and reblog with your own ideas of how you’re going to celebrate Rei’s day!

Happy Birthday, Rei!

[funeraloracle]

Hi Miette! How are you? I’m having an issue & I was wondering if you could give me some tips. So, I read tarot and lately, every time I perform readings, I end up getting sick and I’m not sure why. I make sure protect myself before I do the readings through prayer, visualization, and all that but it doesn’t seem to be working. What can I do to prevent this from happening? Thank you in advance!

that is very strange. of course, not everything has a spiritual reason, but ill give some solutions.

deep cleanse your cards and general area.

banish and ward your space.

ask a deity or guide for help with readings.

ask a reader why this may be happening to you. 

if you have crystals, try using selenite or clear quartz to make the energy flow as non-polluted as possible.

some mundane solutions are:

cognitive distortions. you may be getting sick for another reason and your brain has connected it with tarot. so you show symptoms of sickness when you use tarot. try to do tarot in another room, or use another deck, and see if it does the same thing.

physical ailment. you may be actually sick. consider buying medicine for your symptoms or going to a doctor about it.

mental ailment. as a very rare case, you may be suffering from some kind of mental ailment that causes cognitive distortions or hypochondria. 

im not a doctor or a professional, and if anyone else has any advice for this person, please reblog or reply.

[dianacloudburst]

Box of Shadows (Supreme) - June 2018

☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾

Hello everyone! Once again I have to apologize for the late post. I’ve had these pictures ready for a few days and just haven’t had the chance to type up the post--but it’s here now!

And I have a surprise for you. Believe it or not... I liked this box!

☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾ ⚝ ☾

Here’s the Seeker’s Guide for those of you who like read ahead. I still don’t see any sources for the images, so that’s a bit disappointing. The image of Ra pops up pretty quickly from several sources with a Google image search, but I couldn’t find the other images very quickly and unfortunately don’t have the time to go digging for them this time around. Feel free to reply or reblog with links if you do stumble across them.

We got another paper product this month, too. This one is a “Scarab Invocation Poster.” I wouldn’t call it a poster--it’s a piece of paper--but I do like getting pages like this. I personally preferred the style of the Green Man page, but either way they’re a good addition.

If you like pages like this, you can find a bunch of them from Azure Green, which I’m pretty sure is where the Box of Shadows team is sourcing them from.

Here are some of the monthly staple items. Unfortunately, Cinnamon triggers migraines for me so I won’t be burning this incense myself, but it will make a good gift to one of my friends!

The oil they sent in this month’s box is Rue oil. They don’t specify which species it is from, but traditionally Rue has been used to induce abortions, so it is NOT safe around anyone who is pregnant or nursing, and it should never be used in aromatherapy as it is poisonous. Rue is also toxic to cats and other pets so keep it far out of reach!

The Litha votive is very pretty! It sort of smells like soap, but in a fresh and happy way. I like it. It contains Lavender essential oil and something called “meadow” fragrance oil. The herbs blended in the candle are Lavender, Thyme, Vervain, and Yarrow.

Ok, so, we did get an herb bundle and chime candles again his month. And you guys probably know by now how I feel about chime candles. But this time, I am okay with it. Even though I don’t really use chime candles, I don’t mind that they were included because it didn’t feel like they were replacing another item in the box--they felt like an extra add-on, which I think is exactly what they should be. So yay!

The herb bundle is cedar, which I’m also a fan of.

Tiger’s Eye seems to be the theme right now with crystals in subscription boxes. I guess it’s a very summery stone! Here we have a Tiger’s Eye bracelet and a wire-wrapped pendant, which looks like it could also work as a pendulum. They’re both pretty shimmery.

Believe it or not, we actually got two “bigger” items this month. This is a fabric tote bag. I’m not generally a fan of tote bags--I never use totes and usually they’re just cheap junk used as bad “giveaway” items that no one really wants. But this one is both pretty and lightweight enough to use as a wall hanging! I tucked the handles in and draped it up behind my altar. It looks great!

It also looks pretty dope under black light.

And then, a book! If there’s one thing that the Box of Shadows delivers on, it’s books. I like books. I’m almost done arranging my back deck space for the season, and I look forward to reading this in the shade, surrounded by my sweet little plants.

That’s all, folks! Definitely an improvement from previous boxes--I’m a fan. I think the combination of the book and the bag did it, and the fact that the herb bundle and chimes felt like they were added on rather than replacing other items. I look forward to seeing if the BoS team can keep it going!

[otayuriwriterscollective]

Otayuri 3x3 Fic Recs

Hi everybody! It’s time for another installment of Otayuri 3x3 Fic Recs! Thank you for all the support! This is apparently the “longfic edition” of the rec list, and I didn’t even do that intentionally.

Don’t forget to check out the prompt voting form for our Otayuri Olympics Week event! Voting will be open until the end of the day on January 24, USA eastern time.

Here are 3 SFW and 3 NSFW fics we’re featuring this week. 

SFW Fics

otabekaltindaily reblogged your post by pissedofsandwich

4.6k - Complete

OTABEK ALTIN DAILY

Giving you a daily dose of Kazakhstani Worlds bronze medalist Otabek Altin.

Click HERE for 2014-2015 Season Schedule

Click HERE for livestreams

Click HERE for the Discourse Post

Or: Otabek's fans aren't half as rambunctious as Yuri's fans are, but they're just as dedicated as Yuri's Angels - not to mention protective.

soldier boy, tripping over himself to win my praise by thissupposedcrime

38k - WIP

Yuri cannot crater down the path Victor blazed, happily forsaking Russia and his career for an international love affair. Neither will Kazakhstan's favorite son.

Or Yuri and Otabek from 2016-2026 and the competitions, weddings, and longing that define them.

Summer, 2019

“Yuri, why are you photoshopping Victor into advertisements on male baldness?” Otabek’s voice croaks out from the bedroom’s doorway, rough from disuse at 3 AM.

“You’re the one who told me to control my temper by doing something relaxing,” Yuri replies, distracted as he edits a shine to Victor’s forehead.

Otabek is confident that somewhere in America, Leo de la Iglesia is frantically researching, “How to host an intervention when your friend is dating a jerk?”

till our compass stands still by dinosar

77.6k - WIP

somehow, somewhere along the way, a line had blurred into something less distinct, and yuri had come to the sudden realization that maybe he was in love with his best friend.but of course, he'd had to realize it at the worst possible time.

(a study of otabek and yuri's friendship as the years pass, and how it changes into something new)

NSFW Fics

The Bodyguard by ArabellaFaith

51.6k - Complete

Admin note: Please make sure to read the warning in the notes on the first chapter of this work.

Yuri is a high class escort that specializes in fetish. If you can dream it, he'll make it happen - for a price. But putting himself at the mercy of his clients has ended badly before, and he hires bodyguard Otabek Altin to step in when things get out of hand. It's supposed to be an easy job. It's supposed to be just work. Neither of those things stay true for long...

Just A Little Prick by accidental-mormon (crazyhomoinspace)

65.8k - Complete

Yuri Plisetsky is a tattoo artist at the locally-famous eros + agape body arts. When Otabek Altin accompanies a coworker for his first tattoo, he finds that it's not the artwork that draws his eye. [tattoo artist!yuri] [dj!otabek]

Yuri’s Kitten by BoxWineConfessions

5.2k - Complete

“I don’t believe you’re actually a witch,” The crystal ball plugs into the wall, and Georgi had to consult the instruction booklet for his tarot deck during the reading.Georgi leans over his crystal ball and leers at him. “I’m not the one who’s having a hard time telling my boyfriend I’m a desperate needy bottom. So just drink this,” Georgi tucks a small glass bottle with a cork stopper on the top into his palm. “And let Georgi’s love potion work it’s magic.

OR

Otabek wants nothing more than to bottom for Yuri, but can't seem to bring himself to ask. He seeks help from the good witch Georgi, who sells him a potion that will grant him his deepest desires. Turns out the optimal way to get Yuri to fuck him, is to become a needy cat boy in the throes of heat.

[trailostarch]

BOLD what applies to your muse     /       repost,  don’t reblog .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘.     chipped nail polish.   glitter highlight.   tall trees with smooth bark.   tangled hair.  the taste of cinnamon sugar.  talking too loud and too fast.   overgrown flowers in your hair.   crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature.   flirting.  walking home at three am with no coat.   platonic hand holding.   blowing smoke out of your nose.   dragonfly wings.   chaotic good.   freckles.   fairy rings.   secret meetings.   gender nonconformity.   leather.   smudged eyeliner.  forbidden fruit.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑.  computer errors.   a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty.   hard liquor.  crowns of thorns.  shadowed alleyways.  decaying plant matter.   shattered mirrors and broken glass.   corrupted memories.   stopped clocks.   the scent of stale cigarettes.   tattered black hoodies.   walking your friends home. the crescent moon.  the sea.   a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers.  absolution.   looking out of the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇.     graffiti.   pretending to know what you’re doing.   worn paperback books.  growing up too fast.   parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.   lace and combat boots.   moth wings.   candles on every surface.   a weathered deck of cards.   turning the music up.   fireflies in jars.   calloused fingers.   drawing on your skin.   sunlight filtering through clouds.  petrichor.    a dying rose in a jar.   wearing a crystal pendant.   illusions of spells.   black cats.   mint gum.  chapped lips.   dirt under your fingernails.  the cycle of life and death.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅.  murders of crows.  frostbitten leaves.  wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door.   leaving food out for stray animals.   the twang of an acoustic guitar.   honey.   tiny red buds on trees.   claw marks on the walls.  golden eyes.   slightly too long stubble.   knitted fingerless gloves.   sleeping on the forest floor.   always find your way back home.

tagged by :  stolen ! tagging :  you ! & feel free to tag me in your replies c:

[jarienn972]

Mirrored - Chapter Five

I am so sorry to anyone who was following this story!  It was my first fan fic story for this fandom and being a Tumblr newbie, I thought I had the remaining chapters queued correctly, but oops - I found out they never posted.  I reblogged chapter one with links to Chapters 2-4 for anyone who wants to get caught up but here is Chapter 5.  There will be 8 total and I will get them up on the site by the end of the week.

Complete story on FF.net and AO3.

From the beginning on Tumblr: Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four

After nearly twenty agonizing minutes, Whale finally emerged from Killian's room. Neither Snow nor David could get a read on his expression as he approached them. Behind him, they could see one of the nurses reopening the curtain but from the angle where they were standing, they weren't able to see inside.

"Well?" David asked impatiently.

"We were able to get him stabilized," Whale replied. "I've given him an anti-convulsive medication that will help control the seizures and we were able to get his fever down to under 102 degrees. It's still higher than I'd like to see, but at least it's in a safer range."

"Oh thank goodness," Snow breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's not get too excited," Whale continued. "We still don't know how much time this bought us. If someone doesn't come up with the antidote pretty soon, we may be just prolonging the inevitable."

"You don't know Killian the way we do. He's going to fight this with everything he's got," Snow stated, if for nothing else than to make herself feel better.

"I surely hope that you're right," Whale said, "because he's still got one heck of a fight ahead of him. I did increase the sedatives so he's back into a deep sleep again, but he was having such a difficult time breathing that I had to make the decision to put him on a ventilator. If you're not familiar with that machine, it basically is one that breathes for him by way of a tube placed down into his windpipe. I wanted to warn you because it might be a little disconcerting, but there really wasn't another option."

"Thank you," Snow told him, now really unsure of what to expect. "Are we able to go back in to see him now?"

Whale nodded. "I'll check on him periodically throughout the night. Let me know as soon as you see or hear from Emma though. I'm going to need to speak to her."

"We will," David assured him as Whale left them, heading off down another corridor. He had a very good idea of what Whale needed to discuss with Emma, but he tried not to think about it as he again wrapped his arm around Snow, pulling her in tight to him. "It's going to be alright," he said. "I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I trust Regina. She's going to find the right flower to make the antidote."

"For Emma and Killian's sake, I sure hope so," Snow said as they stepped back up to the glass wall and peered into the room before stepping inside. Even with Whale's warning, Snow gasped a little at the sight before them. The doctor had not been exaggerating when he'd said that the sight of Killian being aided by the ventilator would be troubling, but it wasn't just that. The whole scene disturbed her. Neither of them said a word as they stepped through the doorway, not because they feared waking him but rather out of pure shock.

Finding the reality of the plastic tube extending from the corner of his mouth and connecting to multiple other intimidating looking tubing and hoses a bit much to take in, Snow found herself unable to even look at Killian's face, instead noting the minor details. A small square gauze bandage had been taped to his chest, covering the puncture wound Whale's syringe had inflicted when injecting the anti-convulsive drug. The back of his hand was also bandaged as it had bled when the IV needle was torn loose. A new IV was taped securely in place to the inside of his wrist, directly over the old tattoo of Milah's name.

"It's after one AM," David began, sensing her tension. "I'm wide awake now. I'll stay until Emma gets back. Why don't you head home and get some sleep?"

"I feel like I should stay though. What if Emma needs me?"

"Then I will call you," he assured her. "Go home. Try to sleep. I promise to let you know if anything changes."

"Alright," she sighed, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Please let me know when you talk to Emma. I don't care what time it is."

"I promise," he replied, not sure exactly how long that might be. He'd hoped that she would have at least sent a text message by now. Clearly she was fixated on finding this rouge pirate, but with each minute that went by, he became more concerned.

***************************************

This time, Killian knew where he was before he was even able to open his eyes. The welcoming scent of the marine air embraced him like an old friend; the sound of waves striking the dock and sails flapping in the breeze were like music to this pirate's ears.

"All hands on deck, Pirate!"

There was that sweet little voice again, he thought as he opened his eyes to find himself standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

"Is that any way to talk to the Captain of this vessel?" he smiled, seeing only the very top of a blonde head and two tiny hands above the helm. Laughing as he ascended the steps to the navigation deck, he saw Maeve poised on her tiptoes trying to maneuver the huge wheel. Thankfully, they were still moored in the harbor or who knows where they'd be now.

"You told me that a proper pirate princess should know how to captain her own ship," she stated firmly.

"And so she shall," he replied, sliding a storage trunk across the deck for her to stand on. He hoisted her up atop the trunk and guided her hands to the proper position on the helm. "Tell me where we're navigating to today, Captain?"

"The Enchanted Forest."

"Then off we shall go. Twenty degrees to starboard!"

Without any guidance from him, she turned the huge wheel clockwise. Child after his own heart. Part of him actually wanted to cast off the moorings, but not knowing exactly how things worked in this dream world, he felt it best to stay put in the harbor.

"Calm seas ahead," she giggled, turning to give him a huge hug that felt so real that for a moment, he nearly forgot that he was only dreaming.

**************************************

Now after four AM, Emma had been all over town in search of Devereaux Sinclair, leaving her physically and emotionally exhausted. She'd give the pirate credit – she knew how to hide, but if she really wanted to trade the mirror for the antidote, being evasive didn't make much sense. It was almost as though this were just a part of some sick game that Emma really didn't want to play. Whatever history Devereaux and Killian had, it was pretty evident that they hadn't ended things on good terms – at least not from Devereaux's perspective. Killian didn't appear to be bothered by whatever was implied, possibly having forgiven her enough to let her go earlier. Devereaux was another story. Maybe she was just a sociopathic crazed lunatic. No matter what, Emma was determined to get answers out of her and hopefully, the antidote too, - assuming Devereaux even really had it and this wasn't just another ploy in her game.

But nagging in the back of Emma's head was a lingering bit of guilt. If she hadn't been engaged in such a long meeting with Regina discussing that stupid compact, she would have already been back at her office before Devereaux broke in. It would have been a very different confrontation had she been there. The pain in the ass pirate would already be behind bars and Killian wouldn't be fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

Of course, she knew that second guessing herself wasn't going to help them right now. Hindsight was always perfectly clear when the present and future were muddy. She had to focus so, as she sat in her car parked on the street in front of the Sheriff's station, she reminded herself of the task at hand. It was at that moment that she felt the weight of Killian's hook, still tucked securely inside her jacket as she'd wanted to keep part of him close to her heart. She lifted it from her pocket and held it lovingly in her palm for a few seconds, long enough for a tear to escape the corner of her eye and drift down her cheek. Only a few hours ago, they'd been happily strolling arm in arm along the waterfront and then Devereaux Sinclair and her damned mirror crossed their path…

The mirror.

Why hadn't she thought of this before now? With a flash of realization, Emma placed the hook on the seat next to her as she dug into a different pocket to locate the compact. It had shown her a vision earlier, and if Regina was to be believed and this compact really could function as a crystal ball, perhaps she could get it to give her some clue as to where Sinclair was hiding.

"Wonder how you get this crazy thing to work?" she asked herself as she pressed the button to open the compact. Seeing her own reflection – bloodshot eyes and weary, gaunt face - all she was seeing was her own face. "Come on," she pleaded with it. "You showed me something before. Do it again."

She nearly regretted asking for the object's help as the first fuzzy image came to life in the bottom mirror because what it showed her was a view of Killian laying deathly still in the hospital bed with her mother seated by his side. It reacts to emotion, she thought. She'd been sad when she picked it up and worrying about Killian, so it gave her an image of him. She needed to change emotion and think about what Devereaux made her feel.

Anger.

Anger and frustration.

Channeling those emotions, the image in the bottom mirror began to change. The shadow of a female form came into view, at first only a dark profile. Emma needed more though. She needed something to identify where Devereaux might be and as the scene played out on the tiny mirror before her, a familiar setting was displayed in the background.

Her office.

Devereaux had apparently been interrupted early in her search when Killian found her and she had returned to continue her search for the mirror, apparently (and incorrectly) assuming that Emma would be entirely preoccupied with him. But how recent was this image? This may have been from earlier in the evening and there was a good possibility that she was long gone – a possibility that vanished as Emma spied a flash of light that flickered between the blinds on the station's front window.

A flashlight – and in the misty image displayed on the mirror, Devereaux was holding a flashlight.

She was still inside.

Emma snapped the compact closed as she pushed open the door of her little VW bug and stepped out into the street. Time to show this little pirate wench that you don't mess with the sheriff or her family in this town. She stormed up to the front door and – taking a page from Regina's playbook – blasted it open with magic. No use being subtle, Emma thought to herself as the door flew off the hinges. She didn't care if it had to be repaired later.

She wanted to make an ENTRANCE.

"I know you're here, pirate," Emma shouted, "and you can quit searching. You won't find your mirror in my office or anywhere else in this station because its right here in my hand!"

"That was quite a display," Devereaux replied as her head lifted above Emma's desk and into view through the glass partition. "I may have underestimated you, Sheriff. You have me at a bit of a disadvantage as I'm not a practitioner of magic."

"Step out of my office and give me the antidote."

"Hand over my mirror and we'll negotiate."

"This isn't up for negotiation," Emma stated as she waved her hand to close and lock the side door to her office, leaving Devereaux with only one path out. "Where's the widowsbane antidote?"

"Yeah…that…," Devereaux laughed, stepping through the door frame with an almost sadistic smile on her lips. "I kinda left it back on my ship."

"Then let's take a little trip out to your ship so you can get it."

"You think it's that easy?" Devereaux grinned. "Unless you happen to know of a portal back to the Enchanted Forest, it won't be an easy jaunt."

"I thought you told Killian that you arrived here by your ship being blown off course in a storm?"

"Not exactly. I got here through a portal after stealing a few magic beans from a sorcerer so that I could find a way back to the Jolly Roger."

"Why were you searching for the Jolly Roger?" Emma wondered.

"Because it's the last place I saw an object I've been hunting for a very long time. I'm sure by now you've opened the compact and since you obviously have magic, you know what it is."

"A looking glass."

"Exactly! A looking glass that came straight from the shores of Wonderland, but it was missing its handle. The last place I saw what I believed was the handle before the Queen's curse struck was aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook blocked me from taking it years ago and I've been searching the realms for it ever since. Little did I know that it had been brought to this strange new land."

"It's what you were after in the safe this afternoon, wasn't it?"

"Aye, and it's what I went back to search for again after our encounter here in your office. Damned if I could figure out how to open that safe though. I'll give him credit for that one…"

"Encounter? That's what you're calling it? You poisoned him!" Emma patience had waned and her face flushed crimson with anger.

"It really wasn't personal. I needed a diversion and it was a perfect one to keep him off of the ship, and of course I thought it would keep you busy, pining at his side. As I said, I may have underestimated you."

"You honestly thought that poisoning him with a deadly toxin was just a tactical diversion?!" Emma had had just about enough of Devereaux's cold, smug attitude.

"Just business," Devereaux responded nonchalantly. "Yours is upholding the law, mine is breaking it." She held up a tiny glass vial that appeared to contain the same purple dust that had been all over both Killian's skin and clothing as well as Emma's office earlier. "Now, I'd like my mirror back, if you please or I'll throw this. Think your magic is fast enough to stop a cloud of toxic dust from spreading?"

"Yeah, I do," Emma replied and with a quick wave of her hand, the vial vanished from Devereaux's palm and rematerialized in Emma's possession. "And now I'm done dealing with you."

Emma tapped into her rage and frustration, flinging Devereaux into the wall then quickly got a magical grip around the pirate's throat, dragging her out of the office without ever actually laying a finger on her.

"What are you going to do – kill me?" Devereaux asked when Emma loosened her grip around her neck. "Go ahead. I know your type. You can't do it…"

"I have no intention of killing you. You're not getting off that easy." Emma waved her hand again to cause the iron barred door of the holding cell to swing open, then with one more flourish, tossed Devereaux across the room and into the cell. The pirate slammed hard into the concrete block wall, then slid slowly down to the bare concrete floor as the door slammed shut before her.

"You can tell Captain Hook I said goodbye," Devereaux spat. "Because unless he knows where the handle is, he'll never get the antidote."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"With the handle attached, supposedly the looking glass gains the ability to open portals. It might be the only way to get to the antidote on my ship because you won't get it any other way."

"Guess it's a good thing that Regina is already working on a batch of the antidote then."

"Regina? The Evil Queen? If she told you that she can make the antidote here then she lied to you. There isn't a way to make the antidote here because the flower needed to brew it doesn't grow in this land." As Devereaux began to laugh over the realization that Emma had actually believed the Evil Queen's words, Emma threw her one more time, slamming her into the cell's tiny, bare cot.

"I'll be back to deal with you later, Sinclair. And just so you don't get any ideas about trying to break out…," Emma sealed the cell lock with her magic so the pirate wouldn't have any dreams of picking it. She then backed away, leaving the station with its door still laying on the floor. No one else would be crazy enough to break into a Sheriff's station anyway.

Right now, she needed to calm herself. She was angry that Regina had lied about the antidote and now that she'd learned that Devereaux didn't have it either, she was scared. Climbing back into her car, her eyes were immediately drawn to the shiny steel of Killian's hook as it reflected the street light above her. She had every right to be upset and Regina had a lot of explaining to do but right now, all she could think of was that she needed to be at his side – no matter what the outcome may be.

***************************************

Hours into their research, the mountains of books had now spilled off of the library table into the floor and as dawn approached, Regina was growing increasingly frustrated. There had to be something. She refused to believe that with all of the flowers and plants in this land, there wouldn't be one that was related to a thimble flower. So far though, while she had found numerous references to thimble flowers, nothing mentioned anything outside of the Enchanted Forest.

"All of this is really beginning to make me hate flowers," Regina stated, slamming the cover of the book in front of her closed.

"Regina, please – many of these books are delicate. Could you please show them a little respect?" Belle's concern was genuine, but right now, Regina was really to tired to care.

"Are we looking in the right place?" Regina wondered.

"We are. There just aren't a lot of books that cover multiple realms, but I found this old journal that might be useful." Belle strolled over to the library table and showed Regina an ancient, sheepskin bound personal journal with a battered cover and pages that were brittle and yellowed. "It's the personal notes of an alchemist who used portals to travel through many different realms collecting flowers, plants and other items for his experiments and potions."

Regina's interest was piqued.

"Any mention of thimble flowers?"

"Not yet, but I'm only a few pages in. Its actually quite fascinating."

"Fascinating is wonderful. Relevant would be better." Sarcasm was flowing freely now as Regina was growing more weary and fatigued. "Let me know if you find anything useful."

Regina grabbed the next book from the stack and turned her attention toward it. Time was running short and so was her patience. She was ready to turn a toad into a thimble flower, but she knew it wouldn't work. Hell, she was ready to turn Devereaux Sinclair into a toad – and maybe she would after Emma got done with her. Maybe something lower than a toad? A cockroach perhaps so she could savor the satisfying squish under her heel?

But first she had to find something to make the antidote or things were going to get really challenging in this town. The last place she wanted to find herself was standing directly in front of a pissed off Emma Swan.

[kajimotomiya]

Help this Yu-Gi-Oh Semi-Competitive Noob

Before I lost my job, I was collecting as many deck staples as possible. This collection was based on the following:

Forbidden List (you never know when these will come back...like Monster Reborn loke....three times)

Limited and Semi (they’re in this list for a reason, even if it’s a stupid reason)

Yu-Gi-Oh! Decks (the website) Meta Trends (this involves the most research and god is it stupidly frustrating)

Other social media posts such as forums and Reddit (mostly unreliable since these opinions aren’t exactly universally shared, and also some of these posts are outdated because google am I right)

If anyone can give me advice via Asks or Messages, even reply or reblog this post, I’d greatly appreciate this since my current collection was from January of 2018

As of right now, I currently have (unless it is on the current Forbidden/Limited list, assume I have a set of 3):

Monsters Ghost Ogre and Snow Rabbit Battle Fader Cyber Dragon Effect Veiler Marshmallon Rescue Cat (I remember when this thing was huge and banned) Marauding Captain Sangan Swift Scarecrow Tragoedia King of the Swamp Kinka-Byo

Spells Allure of Darkness Book of Eclipse Cosmic Cyclone Enemy Controller Forbidden Chalice Forbidden Lance Lightning Vortex Mind Control Monster Reincarnation My Body as a Shield Mystical Space Typhoon PIanissimo Pot of Duality Soul Charge Terraforming The Warrior Returning Alive Twin Twisters Book of Moon Dark Hole Raigeki Dimensional Fissure Foolish Burial Future Fusion Gateway of the Six (why...do I have this? This was just in the pile in the “important box”) Limiter Removal Reasoning One For One Reinforcement of the Army Rekindling Symbol of HEritage Upstart Goblin Gold Sarcophogus Different Dimension Reincarnation Shuffle Reborn Scapegoat Trade-In

Traps Bottomless Trap Hole Breakthrough Skill Call of the Haunted Dimensional Barrier Drowning Mirror Force Floodgate Trap Hole Heavy Storm Duster MIrror Force Quaking Mirror Force Negate Attack Solemn Strike Torrential Tribute Stormng Mirror Force Compulsory Evacuation Device Eradicator Epidemic Virus Imperial Order Macro Cosmos Ring of Destruction Solemn Warning

Extra MIssus Radiant Firewall Dragon Topologic Bomber Dragon Proxy Dragon Decode Talker Abyss Dweller Castel Skyblaster Musketeer Dark Rebellion XYZ Dragon Diamond Dire Wolf NUmber 39 Utopia NUmber 41 Bagooska the Terribly Tired Tapir Tornado Dragon Constellar Ptolemy M7 Crystal Wing Synchro Dragon Clear Wing Synchro Dragon Ancient Fairy Dragon Black Rose Dragon Stardust Dragon

[g8dess]

Normally I was gonna stop at 15, but one more can't hurt. So for your guy, I got some Tiger's Eye for the crystals. They promote confidence and help you take action. For decks, I've got one that says it's an oracle deck, but basically just is tarot in a different coat, the Cosma Visions Oracle.

Reblog with a picture of your f/o and i'll assign them a crystal and tarot/oracle deck I own

Based on vibes alone. Only for the first 15 reblogs with pictures!

Op is ProShip, don't like, don't interact

[g8dess]

When I saw him I knew I had to chose Obsidian for him. It protects, cleases and blocks negativity. In terms of decks, I chose the Moonolgy Oracle cards.

Reblog with a picture of your f/o and i'll assign them a crystal and tarot/oracle deck I own

Based on vibes alone. Only for the first 15 reblogs with pictures!

Op is ProShip, don't like, don't interact

[g8dess]

For him, I've chosen two crystals, the first is Angel Aura Quartz, which helps with emotional regulation and is a manhandled crystal (it's coated instead of being 100% natural), the second one is Opalite, which helps with communication. For decks, I chose my first ever deck and most beloved one, the Phantasma Tarot.

Reblog with a picture of your f/o and i'll assign them a crystal and tarot/oracle deck I own

Based on vibes alone. Only for the first 15 reblogs with pictures!

Op is ProShip, don't like, don't interact