#also i hate the grass and the girls whoops but at least the sky is cool

[0-k-4]

well i tried

[blueskrugs]

Four Times His Teammates Said “I Love You,” and One Time He Did | Vince Dunn

for @captainpetty​ and Erin who encouraged the hell out of me while I wrote this (and the other Vince 4+1 I was writing at the same time whoops)

length: 3.8k words

Brayden Schenn You’d been dating Vince Dunn three months before you met the rest of the team. You hadn’t minded, really. You were more than content to hang at one of your apartments on nights off, watching movies and HGTV shows and eating takeout. Vince had told you once that he didn’t want them to meet you purely because they could just be a lot, but sometimes you wondered if there was more to it than them just being a loud group of guys.  You tried not to be insecure, but it could be hard when your boyfriend was unfairly good looking and also in the NHL. 

You waited for Vince near the locker room after a game, nervously fidgeting with your phone, standing apart from the other WAGs. There were conversations happening around you as other boys trickled out of the locker room, but you stayed out of them, feeling out of place and like you didn’t belong. 

You were so distracted and caught up in your head that you didn’t notice that Vince had emerged until he swept you up into a hug, spinning you around once for good measure. They had won, and Vince had scored a goal in the process, and he was clearly still a little high on adrenaline. You laughed as he bent down to kiss you but ducked your head and blushed when you heard his other teammates whistling. You were pretty sure Vince flipped them off behind his back, but then he was leaning down to kiss you again, and it didn’t really matter.

A win meant the boys were going out, and Vince had told you he wanted you to come with them this time. You piled into his car with Sammy, still quiet as your thoughts raced. You had fought with Sammy for shotgun and won, but you were mostly worrying about whether or not everyone else on the team would like you. You didn’t really understand why it seemed so important to you that they did, other than the fact that you knew they meant everything to Vince.

The bar was loud and crowded, between fans and twenty-something large hockey players and their assorted significant others. All of you managed to find a spot in a corner. You were wedged up between Sammy and Vince, with Vince’s arm draped over your shoulders and a beer in your hand. You let yourself listen to their conversations, carefully free of hockey talk, save for when a particularly brave fan came over to talk about the game. The boys asked you questions for a while, but a bar is hardly the place for small talk. Your tables were near a dartboard, and Brayden Schenn and Colton Parayko had pulled away to play. You watched, resting your head on Vince’s shoulder, as they got more and more frustrated when the darts weren’t landing where they wanted them to.

“You ever play?” Vince asked, nudging your head a little.

“Not really,” you lied. Really, one of your older brothers and your dad had taught you when you were a kid, and you were actually pretty good. None of them knew that though, and you wanted to have a little fun. 

Vince lit up, just like you knew he would, and dragged you over to Brayden and Colton. He kicked them off the dartboard, suddenly excited all over again at the prospect of teaching you something. He spent like fifteen minutes pressed up behind you as he showed you how to stand, how to hold a dart, the right way to throw it. It was more than a little cute. By the time he was done, you were dying to tell him the truth, but you also wanted to play it up a little more. So when he let go of you and told you to, “Show us what you’ve got, babe,” you deliberately threw it poorly. And again. And through a whole game against Brayden and Colton.

“Let me try again,” you begged, eyes maybe a little too wide, voice a little too eager. Vince looked at Brayden and Colton, who both shrugged good-naturedly. “I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“Put some money on it this time!” Perron yelled from the table. Okay, he may have been onto you a little bit. 

You pouted at Vince until he sighed and pulled out some cash for both of you, throwing it onto the table next to what Schenner and Colton had put down. You made sure to let Brayden and Colton go first this time. For dramatic effect, you drank the last of Vince’s beer before turning and nailing a bullseye. You were met with raised eyebrows, but you just shrugged.

“Got lucky, I guess?” You could hear David Perron laughing for sure now. 

The rest of the game continued like that, with your throws true to aim each time, and Schenner and Parayko very quickly becoming frustrated again. The rest of the guys were paying close attention now, joining in Perron’s laughter and chirps. 

“Alright, fuck you, what the hell?” Colton asked as you swept their cash off the table, but he was laughing too.

“Dunner, I think I’m in love with your girlfriend,” Brayden said, slumped over the table. Kelsey made a noise of protest somewhere behind you. You laughed and tried not to think about how good it felt to have been accepted, a smile never leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

Robert Thomas It was the beginning of summer, and you were at the Tarasenko’s (frankly, ridiculously large) house for one last team barbecue before everyone scattered to the four corners of the earth. The Blues had gotten knocked out of the playoffs early, and, honestly, it had been kind of ugly. Vince and Sammy had wallowed around their apartment for a couple of days, but today everyone seemed determined to bask in the sun and relax (and maybe drink too much beer). 

You had been in the pool for a bit, while the sun was still high in the sky, but it was only early May, and before long you got too cold. You were making your rounds, chatting with Jayne and Dayna and Yana. Vladi was in his element cooking, and Petro and Schwartzy were fulfilling their duties as team mom and dad, keeping an eye on the young guys on the team. 

It was loud and energetic, but it was comfortable and it was nice to see all the boys relaxed after the end of the season and the playoffs. You wandered over to Vince where he was part of the group playing Spike Ball in the grass. They were all way too into it, in the nature of being competitive athletes, and you watched for a while, sipping on a Truly and laughing when one of them ended up sprawled across the grass dramatically.

Vince and Sammy eventually got kicked off the game, and Vince came over and wrapped an arm around your waist. He plucked the Truly out of your hands and took a drink before making a face.

“Gross. How do you girls drink these things?” he asked. 

You scoffed. “As if you guys didn’t drink your fair share of Bud Lights when you won the Cup,” you said. Vince rolled his eyes but didn’t have a good comeback for that one. 

Vince got distracted after standing with you for a couple of minutes and went off with Sammy to annoy Petro. You were pretty sure Perron was encouraging them. Soon it was Robert Thomas standing next to you.

“What do you want, Robby?” you asked, at the same time Robert said: “Will you steal me another beer?”

Now, you knew Schwartzy had cut Robby off after two beers, but you also knew that he’d had at least one more since then. You shot him a look.

“Why am I doing your dirty work? I don’t wanna face Schwartzy’s wrath.”

“Please?” Damn him. You knocked back the rest of your Truly before sighing one more time and heading off to find a beer that you weren’t even going to get to drink. 

It was nearly ten minutes before you could make it back to Robby, and you only narrowly avoided being thrown back into the pool by Kyrou. You slipped the beer to Robby, who took it gratefully. You rolled your eyes.

“I want it on record that I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you, too,” Robby said, draping an arm across your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You let yourself smile, even though you knew he was a little drunk and that it was just the beer talking. 

Colton Parayko  The boys were coming home from a road trip, and you were in Vince’s kitchen, baking cookies. Technically, Vince had given you the spare key to his apartment four months into your relationship “for emergencies,” but you were craving snickerdoodles, and he had a better kitchen than you. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they’d been in California for nearly two weeks, and you knew that they were Vince’s favorite cookies. 

He texted you when they got off the plane, asking if you’d come over, while also warning you that some of the guys would be coming home with him.  You carefully didn’t tell him that you were already waiting in his apartment. You were just pulling the last of the cookies out of the oven when you heard the front door open behind you, and several loud hockey players spilled through the doorway. You listened as they dropped their bags and shed their shoes, focused on trying not to burn yourself as you transferred cookies to a cooling rack. 

You felt an arm wrap around your waist, and another arm reached around you to steal a cookie. You knew it was Colton based on the sheer size and leaned into him a little bit.

“What did we do to deserve you baking us cookies? I think I love you, Y/N,” he said, immediately followed by, “Hot, shit, hot,” when he took a bite out of the cookie.

“Careful, those just came out of the oven,” you said, ducking out of Colton’s grasp to run and hug Vince.

He was laughing, and he thanked you for the cookies with a kiss, but he didn’t say anything else. The rest of the guys crowded into the kitchen for cookies, but Vince stayed plastered to your side. There was a chorus of thanks from his teammates, and you settled into the noisy chaos that came with being friends with a group of hockey players. 

Sammy Blais The last time was actually almost the end of your relationship with Vince. It had been one of those stereotypically terrible days where you slept through your alarm, spilled your coffee on the way to work, and then nothing else seemed to go your way the whole day. You made your way over to Vince’s apartment after work without texting, but you knew they had a day off and would be chilling. All you really wanted was some food and cuddles, but you knew at the very least you’d have to deal with Sammy, since they still lived together. 

You let yourself in with a sigh; those idiots never actually locked their front door. 

“Vince?” you called out, kicking off your shoes by the door, but it was Sammy who poked his head around the corner.

“Hey, Y/N. He’s streaming right now, but I was about to order dinner,” Sammy says with a smile. That’s Sammy for you, always smiling. You groan, suddenly feeling tears burning behind your eyes. Your head was beginning to hurt. 

“Of fucking course. You know what? Forget I came here, I’m just gonna go home,” you said, turning back to put your shoes back on, angrily trying to blink back those stupid tears. 

“Hey now, none of that,” Sammy said quietly, suddenly behind you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his chest. Distantly, you could hear Vince yelling at his Fortnite game. “I’m ordering all of us dinner, and then we’re gonna lay on the couch while we wait.”

You wandered into the living room and settled on the couch, listening to Sammy order your favorite from the kitchen, before he came back. You could still hear Vince playing Fortnite in the other room. You vaguely wondered who he was playing with if Sammy was in here with you. It didn’t matter, though, because Sammy was pulling you into his lap and maneuvering the two of you until you were cuddling to his satisfaction. You immediately felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders all day release. 

Sammy rested his chin on your head, your face pressed into his chest. Cuddling with Vince’s teammates was hardly a rare occurrence; they were almost always in some sort of dog pile, and you often got dragged into it. (You would never really admit to how much you loved it, and you would complain about being trapped under hockey players until the day you died.) Both of you were quiet for a moment.

“Are you gonna tell me what all this is about today?” Sammy asked gently, poking you in the side. You poked him back but buried your face in his chest a little bit more. He poked you again, harder this time. “C’mon,” he said, “tell me what’s wrong or I won’t let you eat.”

You knew Sammy would never actually do that, but you launched into the tale of your day anyway, beginning when you woke up and even including the argument you’d had with your mom at lunch, about Vince no less. You didn’t realize you were crying as you vented, more out of frustration than actual sadness, until Sammy tightened his arms around you, shushing you. 

“Stop that.” You laughed a little. Sammy was needy all day long, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was good with emotions, much less his best friend’s crying girlfriend. “That’s better. You’ve gotta remember that no matter what shit happens we all love you, right? You make us cookies, and who else am I supposed to cuddle with?”

Vince chose that moment to walk into the room, stretching. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, completely oblivious. You pulled back from Sammy, but his words were still echoing sharply in your head. Words Vince had never said, but so many of his teammates had no problems telling you casually. 

Vince Dunn You had been with Vince for almost a year. Just shy of eleven months, if you really wanted to get specific. All those months, and you had never heard Vince say, “I love you.” You wanted to see it as no big deal. He certainly cared about you, and he knew the little things like your favorite flavors of candies and the way you drank your coffee when you made it at home versus your Starbucks order. He indulged in your stress baking, and he stayed up late with you to binge your favorite shows. 

It was just something you thought about, as time went on, spending nights at his apartment, stealing his hoodies, and cuddling after long days and road trips. It was what distracted you when you were running your fingers through his curls, and it was what kept you awake at night when he was in another city. 

You had said it, more than once. The first time had been more of an accident, the “I love you” slipping out while you were laughing at a story he was telling about Sammy doing something stupid; you had both frozen when you registered what you had said, but you’d moved on. Soon you realized that that mistake was definitely not a mistake. You were falling in love with Vince Dunn, and it scared you. You told him again one night, in the dark where he couldn’t see your face, the fear of rejection you were sure was there. He had kissed you and pulled you closer, but he didn’t say it back. It terrified you, that you were falling so hard for someone when you had absolutely no idea how he felt about you.

You tried your hardest not to think about the stories you had heard when you first met Vince–all the things about wheeling girls at home and girls waiting for him in different cities. You tried to remind yourself of the nights spent with his head in your lap while you played with his hair, the way he looked fondly at Sammy when he was being an idiot, how good he was with kids. You had long since learned that the cool Vince Dunn who got into fights on the ice was a front; the real Vince Dunn was actually soft as hell, but only people he trusted could see that side of him. You’d seen that side of him from the very beginning, so surely he had to love you too, right?

All these doubts were running through your mind more and more often, and you started pulling away, shutting down–you were quiet when you were with Vince, and you found yourself making excuses for not spending time together. You didn’t think Vince noticed, either, but you missed the worried looks he shot you when you pulled away from his cuddles.

It all came to a head one November night when you were over at his apartment. He was still up playing video games, and Sammy had just gone to bed. You were curled up under a blanket and in one of Vince’s team hoodies, the 29 on your shoulder like a brand. You’d been thinking all night, but especially as you watched Vince smile at whatever was said on the other end of his headset; you weren’t really listening to whatever his response was. You had decided a couple days before, while Vince was on a plane home from a road trip, that you really needed to talk, and you’d spent the days since then rehearsing the words in your head, but they never sounded right.

“Vince, what’re we doing here?” you blurted. Okay, that still didn’t sound good, and you definitely hadn’t meant to say it right then. Vince looked up at you, startled, and you heard him mutter a rushed apology and goodbye as he ended the game with whoever he was playing with. He dropped his controller on the floor with a clatter as he stood up. 

Vince pulled you onto his lap, and you went, still tense, but tucking your face into his neck. “Baby, I don’t know what you mean,” Vince started. You both knew that was a lie.

“You know we’ve been together almost a year, right?” Vince sighed above you, and you knew those still weren’t the right words. “I love you, Vince, and it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, but I just don’t think I can stay if you don’t. I just-I can’t keep waiting around, I don’t think I can handle another summer of you in Toronto while I’m still here in St. Louis and I don’t know what you’re doing-” At this point you were just rambling.

Vince cursed under his breath and shoved you off his lap. You watched, confused, and more than a little hurt, as he jumped up and ran towards Sammy’s room as fast as he could in socked feet. He pushed Sammy’s door open without knocking and disappeared inside; you heard Sammy’s muffled swearing– possibly in French– and the sounds of Vince throwing things around.

You had half a thought to get up and leave when Vince burst back out of Sammy’s room, flushed and flustered. Vince was rushing back towards you, tripping over his feet and landing in a heap at your feet. Without thinking, you reached out and pushed his curls out of his face.

“I, shit, I wanted to do this well, wanted to wait until next month,” Vince said, out of breath, “but that clearly wasn’t the best idea.” What you thought was impending heartbreak was just fading into confusion. “I know I froze the first time you told me you loved me. I fucked that up. But then I was trying to figure out how I felt, and then when I did figure it out, I wanted to make it perfect, and then I had to ask for advice, and then-”

You laughed a little then, because Vince was the one rambling now, and all of his words were coming out rushed, like he thought you still might get up and walk out of his apartment right then, in your pajama shorts and his hoodie. “Vince, slow down, you’re freaking me out a little.” Vince just blinked up at you for a moment, green eyes wide and still a little frantic.

“I love you so much, Y/N. And I was an idiot for not telling you months ago. But I’m telling you now, and I mean it. I love-” You cut Vince off again, this time with a kiss, pulling him up by his collar to reach your lips. You felt him relax underneath your hands.

He climbed back up onto the couch, kissing you gently one last time. “Part of the reason I needed to wait was because I needed to find this,” he said, pulling a jewelry box out of his pocket. He opened it quickly to reveal a simple silver bar necklace, engraved with a small heart and a 29. You had to kiss him again. Suddenly the rush to Sammy’s room made more sense. “And when it came in, I had to hide it from you. It’s a miracle Sammy didn’t say anything. I was trying to figure out a way to ask you to come to Toronto with me this summer, too–whenever the season ends, for however long you can get out of work, I want you up there with me.”

Vince let you wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him again, sliding his arms underneath your legs to carry you to bed. You were tired all of a sudden, and you let him set you on his bed, watched as he carefully placed the necklace on his dresser. He climbed into bed next to you, shifting both of you around until he was mostly laying on top of you and you could wrap one arm around him and run your fingers through his curls with the other. 

“‘M sorry,” he whispered ten minutes later, long after you thought he was well on his way to sound asleep, the words mostly muffled into your chest. Your fingers paused until he made a plaintive sound and moved his head so you would keep going. You rolled your eyes a little. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you whispered back. Anything louder felt like it would break whatever spell had fallen over the darkness, the quiet and peace you were feeling.

“I love you,” Vince whispered again instead of explaining. “I love you.” 

You fell asleep like that, with your hand tangled in his hair, and your legs tangled together underneath the sheets, murmuring “I love you”s back and forth.

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST

Two days. Two long, hot days you’ve been tied to this damn tree. Your mother would be turning in her grave over how easily you’ve gotten yourself caught by the O’Driscolls, even when you knew that they were notorious for prowling the roads leading in and out of towns. Craning your head you look up through squinted eyes to look at the sky through scattered branches, calm and clear, painted a beautiful gradient of orange, red and pink as the sun begins to set. Almost three days now and you’ve had nothing to eat or drink, something that’s starting to take its toll on your body and mind. Your head pounds incessantly and your stomach growls weakly, making you twist in discomfort. The bite of the ropes around your wrists soon stops the movement though and you wince at the sharp, stinging pain left in their wake. At this point all you truly beg for is death, and maybe this time you’ll get what you ask for.

You glare at the returning party as they whoop and holler about their catch, turning their horses in circles in excitement while you stare wantonly at the deer they have. They catch you, of course, and one is quick to dismount and get right up in your face about it. “Got a problem, girl?” He’s a mean man that reeks of sweat and bad tobacco, the scent so sour you recoil as far away from him as your punished body, and the tight bindings, will allow you. “I’m starving!” You hiss, but it’s pitiful and he laughs. “Too bad. Ain't enough to go around.” “Liar! That’s a whole damn deer you got there! Please, I’m starving! I jus’ need a little!” Your hunger makes you desperate and he knows that. The grin he gives you is dirty and makes your skin crawl, twisting your body to try and get out of his reach. It’s futile, and soon dirt-smeared hands are roughly grabbing at your waist to pull you back in front of him. “Y’hear that boys?” He calls out to the others, laughing as they whistle while hitching the horses, “little thing is starving! Tell me girl, whatcha willing to do to get a meal, huh?” You turn your head away as he leans in close, fighting the urge to wretch. The feel of his hands sliding down to your backside, the heat of his breath tickling your ear and cheek, makes you want to vomit. “C’mon now,” he coos at you, “dont’cha want to eat? All I ask for is a kiss!” Despite his forceful coaxing and your limited range of movement you continue, by some miracle, to evade his crusted, cracked lips. Then, all hell breaks loose. All at once there’s the thundering of horses hooves on the dry dirt, bullets screaming through the humid air, warm splatter on your face. A hole right through your would-be rapists head, his wide eyes mirroring yours before he falls down at your feet, lifeless. You stand, rooted to the spot just as the tree firmly pressed against your back is as the others scramble to form some sort of meager defiance, but they’re no match. It doesn’t take long. Like fish in a barrel. The O’Driscolls barely had time to reach for their pistols before they, too, were gunned down. The horses, spooked, whine and stomp from where they’ve been hitched and you’re glad that they’re not hurt. One of the riders seems so too as he gets down from his own mount to inspect them. His figure is hazy from the dust but you can tell he’s tall and strong and attractive. You’re sure that he’s talking, too, but you can’t hear him. The ringing in your ears is too loud. Gunshots. Blood pumping. Adrenaline. You hazard another look down at your feet, the man's lifeless body draining out before you. His blood stains your shoes. You spit on his back. Good riddance. “Hey! Are you okay?” The voice, suddenly clear, startles you and you quickly flick wide eyes to another man approaching you. The second rider? He’s well dressed and attractive too, but you’re not about to swoon at his feet. “Get back!” You shriek, fear spiking. He stops, startled, while quickly holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, amiga, I won’t hurt you,” he states slowly. You don’t believe a word of it. Instead you try, in vain, to pull your hands free from the ropes so you can flee. He sees this and hurries over to you, cursing under his breath at the wounds you’re inflicting on yourself in your haste. You don’t care. You try to fight him; kick him, elbow him, even snapping your teeth at him in a bite that doesn’t quite reach. You don’t trust him. You can’t trust him. Pressure releases from around your wrists and you stumble sideways, suddenly free, the ropes cut by an intricately decorated and expensive-looking knife that somehow manages to miss your flesh. Now you’ve fallen onto the ground face to face with the dead man with a bullet hole through his head, the force of your struggling having caused your fall down. Ignoring the stinging, open burns to your wrists you quickly scramble to your feet. Hair stringy with stale sweat and fresh blood, clothes smeared and ruined, delirious with heat and adrenaline, you still try to run. Hands firmly planting themselves on your arms stop you before you’ve even started and you yell out, wanting to pull away but your body doesn’t respond properly. Short, jerky movements but nothing that actually helps. White hot panic floods your empty stomach as you realize you’re too weak and that the adrenaline isn’t enough anymore. You suck in a deep breath, eyes beginning to sting despite your best intentions. You will yourself not to cry in front of the quiet man before you, but again you fail. You whimper, trying desperately in vain to wriggle free. You babble pitifully, incoherently, with a quivering lip and glossy eyes; childish. But his dark eyes are kind, even after what he’s done, and he slowly lets you go, only to catch you when you stumble forward. “You’ve been out here too long,” he mutters, voice low and comforting, “heat, starvation, you’re weak. Come on.” He gently guides you to his horse, much to his partners annoyance. “Charles, what are you doing? We can’t take her with us!” He argues. “Can’t leave her, either,” Charles counters as he heaves you onto the saddle where you clutch at the saddle horn for dear life. The two men then lead the hitched horses, consolation prizes for the few minutes of trouble, as well as take the deer that had been caught. “Or do you want her death on your conscience, Javier?” Charles grunts as he tightens knots and secures ropes, eyeing his partner expectantly when he’s met with silence. The well dressed man, Javier, grumbles something you can’t hear and mounts his own horse, Charles following suit, coming to sit in the saddle behind you. “Didn’t think so,” he chuckles, low and smooth, and you lower your head to stare at the saddle horn gripped tight in your hands. You don’t say a word. Would it even matter if you did? It’s not like you’re in a state to challenge them, so you allow yourself to fall into unconsciousness lulled by the sway of the horse and the sounds of night insects rousing from their sleep. When you finally come to you take a look at your surroundings. Trees. Tents. Campfires. It’s larger and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You want to run but you can’t, you’re still on Charles' horse with the large man pressed in behind you, arms either side as he handles the reins. There are more people here, men and women alike, and you shrink back against Charles instinctively. “Where are we?” You ask hoarsely, throat scratchy and dry. “Home, for now at least,” Charles answers, pulling his horse over to a hitching post while Javier does the same. He barely disturbs you as he dismounts, helping ease you off the saddle and onto shaky legs. “Dutch won’t like this!” Javier grouses as he too dismounts his horse, allowing it to wander to a patch of grass to graze. Charles doesn’t answer, instead leading you towards three women sitting around a campfire. They’re having a hearty conversation when you’re put upon them, feeling awkward under their shocked gazes. They talk over each other quickly but the general consensus is who the hell are you and why are you here. “Ladies,” he lifts his hand to quiet them, the other gently squeezing your shoulder, “I hope you don’t mind taking care of our friend here? She’s had a rough couple of days.” You swallow, looking down at yourself. Bloodstained. Stinking. Traumatized. Rough doesn’t come close, you think. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Charles! Bring her here!” One of the women growls, ushering you to sit by the fire despite her anger. Probing hands go to touch your head, the side where your hair hangs limp with blood, but you pull away quickly. “Ain’t my blood,” you murmur and the women all share looks before the first, already stinking of whiskey, giggles with a snort. “I’d hate t’ see the other guy!” It’s an attempt to lighten the mood and you force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes and they notice. “I’ll go get you something to get clean with, a wipe down will do ‘till we can get you a real bath,” another offers in a soft voice, kind and smiling warmly. You watch her put the book in her hands aside as she gets up, eyes trailing after her. “That’s Mary-Beth,” the blonde introduces, “I’m Karen and that there’s Tilly,” she motions with a half empty bottle to the young woman opposite you. “Just what happened to you, anyways?” Tilly asks, leaning in from where she sits on a log, “Yeah, you look half-dead!” Karen adds, scowling when Tilly sends a glare her way. “I...” You cough, gladly accepting a bottle from Karen and tipping it back without so much as a thank you. Manners be damned, you were so thirsty! The alcohol burns down your throat and your eyes sting with tears but by God it was a welcome flood. Karen cheers while Tilly shakes her head, rolling her eyes. As you gasp for air Mary-Beth returns with a bucket of water and a rag, setting them down by your side. She’s also taken the liberty of bringing you some food. It’s nothing fancy, a small bowl of leftover stew and a crust of bread, but you gratefully accept and begin your ravenous feast. It’s definitely a sight for them to behold, but you are starving so they can excuse your table manners. In between shoveling spoonfuls of stew you listen to the argument you’ve caused, Charles and Javier’s voices are known to you while the others are new. They aren’t happy that you were brought to their camp, but Charles argues that you were in need and he wasn’t going to leave you traumatized and starving on the roadside. You smile to yourself, thankful that at least he cares. “Dutch is always so mad these days,” Tilly whispers as she moves to sit next to you. You spare her a glance before turning to look over your shoulder. Dutch, you assume, is the leader of this band of societal misfits. He points accusingly at Charles, then over to where you sit, and back again, while others interject to add their piece. “C’mon, I’ll help with your hair,” Tilly distracts you, turning your head away from the fray with warm hands. She fishes a rag from the bucket, ringing it out while giving you a small smile. Mary-Beth is assessing your wrists, no doubt thinking up a way to ease their soreness. “It’ll be cold, so don’t squeal now!” Tilly laughs and you bite your tongue when the water drips down the side of your face when she starts dabbing at your scalp. Mary-Beth giggles behind her hand at your scrunched up face and Karen starts to sing, merry with alcohol and new company, and by the time the bickering has ceased you’re looking as clean as you can be with just a rag and a bucket of water. Done with your hair and leaving you to wipe your face and neck, Tilly starts rummaging through her chest, sizing up old dresses so that you can change into fresh clothes. Mary-Beth takes the chance to wrap up your wrists with bandages after wiping them gently with a damp, soft handkerchief, apologizing when you wince or hiss. “There! This one should fit, and the colour looks good too,” she smiles, folding the dress up, as well as some other bits and pieces for you, including a pair of shoes not stained with blood. You hastily wipe your hands dry on your ruined dress and take the offered items. They feel freshly washed and soft despite the course material, nothing like the grubby dress you wear now. “You’re too kind,” you smile nervously, half expecting this to be a fever dream and you’ll wake up any minute tied to that damn tree with crows picking at you. It’s not a dream. Tilly tells you to bed with them for the night once you come back from changing, making room on their bedrolls so you can at least sleep comfortably. You’re surprised that Dutch and the others haven’t come over yet to force you out, but she assures you that it can wait until the morning since everyone needs sleep. In truth, you’re thankful for it — that way they’ll all have clear heads when they decide what to do with you. As you settle down you spot Charles walking to his own bedroll and offer a smile when he looks your way. He smiles back and bids you goodnight with a small tip of his head, and for once since your kidnap you actually feel comfortable enough to sleep among a band of strangers.

[whittakerjodie]

and it Wasn’t Quite You (13th Doctor X Reader)

Request:  13th x reader request: I was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort fic? The reader and 13 are in an established relationship. The reader is slightly insecure and during a trip she catches a girl/alien girl kissing the doctor (the doctor not kidding back but it looks like it?) I’m sorry if this a bit confusing and long 😓 Lots of fluff please! Thank you 🙏 :) - from @biscuitfam​

A/N: ooooo i’ve been going through a funk the last few days and this totally regenerated my writing ability! Yay!! Also, might’ve laid the angst on heavier than the fluff whoops. ALSO ALSO it’s important to me that yall know the doctor and the master were in a band. Please know this. please. 

Words: 3k

Warnings: jealousy, insecurity that isn’t true but we all have it, hot alien princess’s making a move on your hot alien girlfriend, obscure Doctor who eu references, 

   Your adventure began as most did; with the Doctor rambling as she ran around the console, describing a planet she’d been wanting to visit. When she first mentioned Princess Osea, you were hardly listening. The Doctor met so many people on so many adventures that you didn’t immediately attach any importance to the Doctor’s story of meeting her. 

   When you stepped out of the TARDIS, quite the crowd was there to greet you. There was a loud fanfare coming from all sides of the crowd.  It was like an entire parade had been arranged just for your arrival. Behind the people stood shining towers, stretching far beyond the limits of your vision. Each one was made out of a golden material, complimenting the light pink sky filled with dozens of other planets. You didn’t realize your mouth had been hanging open for so long before you heard the Doctor giggle softly. Her finger quickly pushed your chin up, a move that made you blush despite how quickly it lasted. 

    It’d only been two months or so since the two of you had decided to make things official. Well, as official as you could make things with a timelord who spent all her time gallivanting around the universe. You didn’t exactly use the term ‘girlfriend’ but your relationship had gotten a little past that point by now. Before you could grab her hand to hold it as you walked, she was raising hers to shake hands with the woman in front of you. 

   You’d been staring at the Doctor so long, you didn’t realize that the five of you had reached the end of the red carpet, where a large golden throne stood. On top of the throne sat one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, save for the Doctor. She was tall- at least, you thought she was, judging by the extremely long, toned legs that were peeking out of her large ruffled orange dress. Her cheeks were a darker blue than the rest of her skin- was she blushing? 

“Doctor,” She drawled. Her arm extended forward to offer the back of her hand to the Doctor, who placed a quick kiss upon it. You didn’t take a lot of notice to this either; travelling with the Doctor for years meant you were fairly accustomed to different cultural expectations and displays. She was simply addressing royalty, right? “It’s so lovely to see you again.” 

“I could say the same, princess Osea. How are things?” 

“Much better, now. I wish we could’ve organized more for your arrival, but it was rather short notice.” You glanced again at the massive crowd that was gathered, complete with streamers and music. This wasn’t enough? 

“Oh it’s wonderful,” The Doctor said. “I did land at the right time, I hope? I’ve been dying to show these four the Omicron Eclipse for ages.” 

“And you’ll be able to. Hello, by the way!” She gave a small wave and a cheeky smile to the four of you before turning back to the Doctor and the Doctor alone. You winced as Osea grabbed both the Doctor’s hands, holding them. The look in her eye was… warm. Loving. You didn’t like that much either. “We’ve prepared a feast for tonight, which will be followed by a performance by the Orchestra-” 

“Oh! Is that the one that uses the Perigosto sticks? Love a perigosto stick, me” The Doctor interrupted cheerfully. Oh, that was an inside thing you didn’t know about. The Princess nodded, grinning even wider. 

“You remembered! I had a few players added just for you.That’s not the only surprise. After the orchestra plays we’ll have a ceremonial wreath burning on Mount Aiq’ans, where we’ll watch the eclipse.” 

   Okay, that did seem rather cool. The Doctor turned back to You and the rest of the fam with two thumbs up. Everyone else answered with their own excited thumbs but you resorted to a hesitant smile. As Osea stood up from her throne you felt your awkwardness increase tenfold. She was tall. Not only that, but the way the sun shined on her as she stood highlighted thousands of sparkling freckles you hadn’t noticed before. She was truly glowing, twirling her flowing black hair in between her fingers. 

   You gulped, half of you intimidated by her beauty and the other really attracted to her. Not the time to gay panic, you thought. To offset the panic you glanced at the Doctor, only to find that she was also staring up at Osea. It wasn’t inherently romantic, but you couldn’t deny that your heart twinged at the long established friendship clearly apparent between the two. Their words were laced with a loving familiarity, and the way they looked at each other made your cheeks burn. Neither of them seemed to notice your gloom as Osea linked her arm with the Doctors and began to lead all of you through a doorway on the right into the castle. 

____________________________________________

“You’re not going to eat anything?” Ryan asked. You stared right past him at the Doctor and Osea, who were laughing as they recounted the last time they’d seen each other. Fingers tightly gripping your glass, you shook your head to answer Ryan. He turned and whispered something to Yaz as you sipped your drink, trying not to be bothered. Just a friend, you reminded yourself. That’s all they are. Friends making up for lost time. 

   Your food had remained untouched- you doubted you’d ever have enough appetite to finish it anyway. The feast was more elaborate than the welcome parade. The tables seemed to stretch for miles, every inch of them covered in platters of different foods. The Doctor must’ve done something really spectacular to warrant this kind of treatment for all of you. Or maybe it was just a regular ceremony they did every time the eclipse happened. Or maybe the princess was just so in love with her- 

“Y/N, you remember that right?” Your head whipped towards the Doctor, who was looking at you expectantly. You hated how beautiful she looked in that moment; eyes shining with tears from laughter, cheeks red with warmth and lips stretched into a smile. How were you supposed to wallow in misery over something small when an angel was addressing you?

“Sorry I um-” Then, your gaze landed on the Princess, who was watching you with a somewhat disdainful look. It wasn’t mean, but it seemed like she was rather irritated at you causing a pause in the conversation. “Sorry, Doctor, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?” 

“She was asking you if you remembered falling into an Eiccen pit?” Your face warmed even further. You didn’t know the Doctor had been telling that story as well. It was embarrassing; you thought it was funny that the grass felt so wobbly and the next thing you knew you’d fallen ten feet into a pit full of jelly that turned your skin green. And the Doctor was just sharing it with this.. This… goddess sitting next to her?!? 

“You alright, Y/N?” the Doctor asked, her hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. You blushed even harder, avoiding the princess’ gaze, which you could feel landing on you. You couldn’t let her know that you were embarrassed or weak or less than her. Not when your girlfriend was sitting there. Not when you were getting the feeling that the Princess wanted a little bit more than friendship from said girlfriend. 

“Everything's fine,” You whispered. When the Doctor looked unconvinced, you cleared your throat and spoke up. “Of course I remember it, but I also remember you falling in right after me” The whole table laughed and turned back to the Princess for her next comment. You sighed in relief as the weight was lifted off of you, but you couldn’t quite stop the feeling of being a third wheel pressing back in on you. 

__________________________

   Tears dripped down your cheeks. You didn’t bother wiping them away at this point; every second the orchestra spent playing was a second the music washed over your body, mind, and soul in the most wonderful way. It’d been at least 15 minutes since they started playing, but you couldn’t quite grasp onto any specific thought or measure of time when the hundreds of instruments sounded from the stage. 

  There wasn’t any earthly way to describe the sound that filled the auditorium. It truly was amazing, and did wonders to your spirit after dinner had gone so sourly. 

“You like it?” the Doctor asked. She was standing next to you, eyes taking in your crying face. She wiped your tears away with her sleeve, smiling. “It can be a little overwhelming, but that’s why they’re one of the most famous Orchestras in the 81st century. “ 

“Doctor, I love it,” You whispered with a tremble in your voice. She smiled wider, then pointed to the right of the orchestra. 

“Do you see that, the long stick? That’s a perigosto stick. Used to play one of those when I was a kid.” 

“I thought guitar was more your style” You laughed, remembering how musical her 12th form had been. 

“Oh it is but not when I was at the academy. Used to be in a band, actually.” 

“You’re kidding?!” 

“Never,” She laughed. “Well, sometimes. But not this time. Gallifrey hot five, we called ourselves” 

You shook your head, assuming that she must be joking. Then, when you took in her completely serious face you gasped. “No, you’re serious? The Gallifrey hot five?” 

She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, we were a little cheesy back then. But I did, admittedly, do smashing on the perigosto.” 

“You’ll have to play for us sometime” Your face fell into a frown as you realized Osea was standing to the right of the Doctor. A little too closely, an observation you also made. You tuned out the Doctor promising to do just that, trying to focus back on the music. 

   You felt ridiculous for feeling so jealous, but you couldn’t help it; you were a normal human from earth. You didn’t have sparkling skin or flowing hair or long, beautiful legs. You weren’t a princess. She was so much… more than you, it seemed. The Doctor and her seemed so close. Had they ever-?

    It seemed like in the blink of an eye you were on top of Mount Aiq’ans, facing a wreath larger than a house. Vines and flowers were arranged in an elaborate circle, waiting for fire to consume them. Supposedly, the custom was to look through the ring of fire at the moment the planets eclipsed one another. You’d also heard that there was significance for one of the planet's main religions, but you couldn’t confirm or deny that based on your attention lapses. 

The princess held a long torch in her hand, waiting for the right moment. Suddenly she turned back to the Doctor, grinning. “Doctor, I would love for you to do the honors.” 

The Doctor chuckled nervously, accepting the torch. You took a step back from it’s heat, unable to escape your own, which crept through your veins as the Princess gave the Doctor the highest honor of the evening. “Alright then,” The Doctor said. She stepped forward, the Princess stepping aside to let her through. 

“This is so cool” Ryan murmured. You nodded, not because you believed it but because you wanted to keep up the facade that you did. Really, it’d just been a long day and you were tired of feeling like second best to an alien you’d never even met before. Light assaulted your eyes as the wreath went up in flames, the cheers of everyone present pressing against you from every side. It was all rather overwhelming and you ignored everything and everyone, eyes focusing on the eclipse with a stubbornness you’d never felt before. You shrugged off your jacket to offset the new heat, enjoying the moment for what it was. 

______________________________________

The walk back to the castle had been exhausting. Your legs were tired and everyone else seemed to be having the best time talking and laughing with one another. No matter how hard you tried to keep a hold of the memory of the eclipse, your mind could only hyper-focus on the Princess and the Doctor walking ahead of you. Did it even matter what they were talking about at this point? Clearly they’d known each other for ages and you’d never be as good as- no, stop that, you told yourself as your throat started to tighten. Stop that. 

You set your jacket on the throne as everyone carried out the final conversation for the evening. The TARDIS seemed to be calling your name, as you could feel an oddly warm force drawing you back towards it. You made quick work of saying your goodbye to the Princess, walking back towards the space-time machine with the fam in tow. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yaz asked as soon as the doors shut. You leaned against them, nodding. 

“Yeah, course, I’m perfect.” 

“Well… whatever it is, I hope you had fun tonight at least. Oh- you forgot your jacket.” You looked at your shoulders, noticing that Yaz was right.

“Thanks, Yaz,” She nodded and gave you a quick hug, disappearing into the TARDIS hallway. You smiled at your friend's generous words. The smile dropped off the face of the earth, however, as your eyes took in the scene before you. They were standing far away, but it was all too easy to make out Osea’s hands cupping your girlfriends cheeks, drawing her in for a heated kiss. 

   A gasp left your lips and you quickly threw the doors shut, heart racing. No. No way you’d seen what you’d just seen. Your brain was moving a mile a minute, stomach turning over. Some unknown force-the TARDIS probably, let you know that the Doctor was coming in soon. Scared embarrassed, and seconds from bursting into tears, you sprinted into the hallway and into your room, letting the TARDIS dramatically slam the door for you.  

   Tears started to fall from your eyes again, but not due to an ethereal beauty. These were uncontrollable because of a poisonous, fiery sorrow that you couldn’t understand because you couldn’t understand what you’d just seen. Or maybe you could. Maybe you were right and Osea was so much more than you, so more beautiful, and interesting, and-

“Y/N?” there was a furious knocking on your door, joining the Doctors quick tone. “Y/N, please, I need to explain what just happened.” 

You leaned against the door, letting yourself slide to the floor. You couldn’t face her. Not yet, not like this. “Doctor…” 

You could hear rustling from the other side, like she was copying your position. “Y/N, I had no idea that Osea.. felt that way. I definitely don’t reciprocate it. I made sure she knew that after she kissed me, you have to know that.” 

“You don’t?” You sniffled. “You just seemed… like, you guys knew each other so well and she’s so pretty and-” 

“Yes, she is pretty, by several universal standards. Yes, we know each other well. But she will never be- she never could be- she’s not you, y/n. No one could ever best you.” 

   Temporarily, your breath came to a standstill as you let her words echo through the air. Your hand landed against the hard surface of the door, suddenly longing to disintegrate it so you could instead feel the Doctor’s soft hand in yours. The TARDIS granted your request and the door slid open, sending the two of you into a collision as soon as the support was gone. You shrieked slightly as you fell into her arms and she fell into yours, landing in an odd heap. 

Instead of helping you up, her arms wound around your figure, holding you closer. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume things” You whimpered against her chest. “She’s just so…” 

“Don’t finish that sentence, y/n. Because I know whatever you say isn’t going to be true.” Her lips planted a kiss against your temple, then a second against your cheek. Finally, she pressed her lips to yours. Forehead resting against you, she pulled back and whispered. “I need to know that you know that I love you. Do you know that?” 

   Tear slipping past your eye you nodded, letting her pull you back in for another kiss. Relief was flooding through your system, mixing with love for the Doctor to create a mood a thousand times better than the one that had been plaguing you all day. While she carried you to bed and tucked you in, the Doctor dedicated her breath to informing you of all the reasons why she loved you. You were pretty sure she carried on even after you fell asleep, because when you woke up in the morning her arms were still wrapped around you, mouth hung open like she’d been mid-sentence when sleep claimed her.

[undermounts]

Bound―Chapter 7: Revelations

Summary: The truth comes out.

AO3 | Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius Augustine/Diana Leigh (BB MC)

                                    Bergen, Norway, 2042

One week later

Diana pulled herself and Gaius out of one of his memories with a gasp. She broke their physical connection and put her hand out to steady herself against the headboard of his bed, chest heaving. She glanced over at Gaius who looked just as disheveled as she felt.

“That one was…” Diana breathed, combing her hair back from her face. It was damp with sweat. Her whole body was.

“Rough,” Gaius finished, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, I know.”

Diana closed her eyes for a second, taking comfort in the fact that they were safe in a cozy hotel in Norway, not in a burning village in Mydiea. When Diana felt certain that she was in better shape, she grabbed the two glasses of water―both nearly empty after a night delving into Gaius’s memories―off of the nightstand between their beds and handed one to Gaius before nursing the other one herself.

“I’ll be glad not to dream of that one again,” Gaius huffed after he had drained his glass. So far, Diana’s memory therapy had worked. None of the memories they had worked their way through over the last few days had resurfaced in his dreams. 

It was taxing for both of them, to willingly immerse themselves in so many horrific memories, but it was worth it if it meant never seeing them again. Diana might have been less inclined to work through Gaius’s memories at the rate they did if it hadn’t been for their bond. With increasing frequency, their dreams had begun to bleed together. It seemed as if the more time they spent together, the stronger the bond grew. Although at least now they had both gotten better at keeping most of their own thoughts and emotions to themselves during waking hours.

“Agreed.” Diana nodded, taking both of their empty glasses and setting them aside before she slumped against the pillows, exhausted.

“Thank you,” Gaius said softly, elbow propped against the headboard as he looked down at her. 

Diana knew he wasn’t just thanking her for the water. She simply nodded and waved her hand nonchalantly before closing her eyes. She just needed a moment of rest.

Golden light bloomed behind her eyes. She felt dewy grass beneath her feet. A cool breeze brushed against her cheek, carrying with it the smell of honeysuckle, roasted meats, and fragrant spices. She heard joyous music and the rise and fall of distant conversations.

Diana smiled softly, opening her eyes.

“What was that?” she asked, turning on her side and propping herself up on her forearm to face Gaius.

“Midsummer Night’s Eve in 1638,” Gaius replied, lips slightly curved at the memory. “That was a beautiful celebration. The shortest night of the year, but also one of the loveliest.”

“Can I see it?” Diana asked and Gaius nodded without hesitation, gently taking her wrist and pressing her fingers to his temple. 

After a quick stop in Gaius mind palace―he was getting better at pulling up his own memories―they stood in a moonlit field illuminated by golden lanterns and twinkling lights. Fireflies, Diana realized, gaping at the scenery. There was a long wooden banquet table covered with all sorts of fruits, meats, and delicacies Diana couldn’t put a name to. The arms of a giant oak tree stretched overhead, decorated with elaborately designed luminaries. All around her, people roamed, skipped and danced in summery clothes that were fitting of the period. Diana watched as two little girls collapsed at the base of the tree and dumped an armful of flowers on the ground before braiding them into each other’s hair.

“It’s breathtaking,” Diana breathed, spinning in a slow circle. She reached out, her fingertips passing through a firefly as it lazily bobbed by. “These are all… vampires?”

“Mostly,” Gaius responded, glancing up at the star-filled sky. “Some human lovers were interspersed.”

Diana noticed a band of musicians playing joyous folk music next to a ring of people who clapped and whooped in delight on the other side of the tree. At the center, two figures half skipped, half hopped in a circle, their arms linked and faces flushed. “Gaius… is that you?”

“Hm?” he followed her line of sight, then let out an amused chuckle. “I told you I knew how to keep people entertained.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance,” Diana admitted, wandering closer to the circle.

Gaius rolled his eyes. “I’m nearly three thousand years old, Diana. I learned how to dance a long time ago.”

Diana watched the dancing couple, Gaius and another woman she didn’t recognize, both smiling broadly. “Who is she? The woman you’re dancing with?”

Gaius tilted his head, watching himself with a curious expression. “I don’t know. I don’t think I knew then, either. She was just someone I danced with. Everyone was mingling. It was like we were all friends.”

Diana’s brows drew together. “She’s… human. I can tell.”

“Hm. So she is,” Gaius hummed, shrugging. He cut Diana a sideways glance. “I didn’t always hate humans. There were times when we coexisted, places where the Order’s influence hadn’t reached. Where humans knew what we were and didn’t despise us.”

“Like now?” Diana questioned.

“Like now,” Gaius agreed, and she felt him brush against her mind. Because of you.

Diana turned to him, lips parting to respond when there was a sudden whoosh, like all of the air had been sucked from the atmosphere. Instantly, the sound vanished, leaving only a gaping silence. Diana’s brows knit. “What…”

“Diana…” Gaius’s eyes were wide and he took a half step towards her, arm outstretched. 

Diana glanced down at his hand, then to her feet. She gasped, voice high and frantic. “Gaius?”

There was a black patch of scorched earth beneath her feet. Diana watched in horror and confusion as the patch grew, radiating outward, grass shriveling up and turning to ash. She stumbled back, but wherever she stepped,  flowers withered and died. Whatever this was, this living death, it was following her. 

“What is this?” Diana yelped as the field around her turned to dust. She looked to Gaius, who looked just as confused and disturbed as she felt. The vampires and humans around them silently continued to enjoy their celebration, unaffected by their surroundings. 

“I don’t know,” Gaius admitted, shaking his head. “This isn’t me. I’m not doing this.”

Diana continued backing up until her spine collided with the tree. She heard a loud crack! and turned just in time to see the blackness spiderweb across its trunk, bleeding into the bark. As the darkness spread throughout the oak tree, the leaves crumpled and blew away on a phantom wind, all of the lanterns extinguishing at once. 

“Stay back!” Gaius gripped her shoulder, tugging her against his chest just as all of the stars in the sky disappeared and Gaius’s memory of the Midsummer’s Night celebration faded into nothingness, leaving only them, the moon, and―

“Demetrius,” Diana whispered as the blackened oak tree transformed before her eyes. “The Tree of Eternal Death. How…? What is this?”

Behind her, Gaius crumpled to the ground, clutching his head in pain. He groaned, deep and guttural. “Diana… his influence…I can’t....”

Diana sensed it, pulses of Demetrius’s power, rolling waves of death and decay. It was far stronger than it had been on the island two decades ago. And yet, it didn’t affect her. She stood tall, immune. Unfeeling.

Detached.

Diana turned and looked down at Gaius, whose head bowed was over his knees. Distantly, she felt her lip curl in disgust. 

Coward. Monster. Murderer. 

There was a bright flash and Diana saw herself several feet away, standing over the Black Shuck. Her other self looked over her shoulder at her, eyes glinting coldly, two swords in hand. Diana felt her katana materialize in her own hand, its weight familiar in her palm as she turned her gaze back to Gaius.

Monstermurderermonstermurderermonstermurderer.

It was a savage song in her head, melodic, alluring, like a lover whispering in her ear. She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, leather creaking. She was justice, death incarnate. Judge, jury, and executioner.

Gaius turned his face up towards her, agony clear across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak came out. The pain was too much. He slumped forward, tears of blood trailing down his cheeks and dissipating into nothing once they hit the ground.

Something brushed against her mind, feeble. ...Diana.

Diana… She turned that name over in her mind, testing it on her lips. Diana.

She frowned, grip loosening on her sword. Its sharp tip dipped towards the ground.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t her. 

This wasn’t real.

She threw the sword away, chest heaving as if she had just run a marathon. She watched as its sharp edge glinted once in the artificial moonlight, then was consumed by the shadows. Diana shivered. What was this?

Diana crouched before Gaius, lifting his chin with her hand. His eyes were reddened and cloudy with pain, but as she turned his face towards hers, she saw an ember of clarity spark to life. His lips parted, breath wheezing through.

“Shh. Don’t say anything,” she cooed, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and tucking him into her side. “I’m getting us out of here.”

Diana closed her eyes and found the invisible cords that tethered them to their real bodies. She anchored herself on the corporeal plane, distantly feeling Gaius’s bed beneath her, and pulled them out of Gaius’s mind.

When she opened her eyes, they were back in their hotel room, safe and sound.

Diana heard a groan and whipped her head in Gaius’s direction. He was still slumped against the headboard of the bed, elbow propped up. He held a hand to his forehead, wincing.

“Gaius!” Diana scrambled to her knees, pulling his hands away and gripping his face in her hands. “Are you hurt?”

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she searched his eyes. They were their usual clear blue, no traces of agony or blood to be seen. They widened slightly and he leaned back in surprise at her sudden attentiveness, his fingers fluttering over her wrists.

“I’m fine,” he breathed, eyes flitting over her face. “Just a headache. Are you… you?”

Diana nodded quickly. “Yes, I―” she swallowed, her mouth dry. “I don’t know what that was.”

“It felt like being on Demetrius’s island, except worse,” Gaius’s brows drew together. “I’ve never felt anything else like it… But we’re on the other side of the globe. How?”

“I don’t know,” Diana admitted, absently brushing her thumb over his cheek as she stared at the sheets, lost thought. Gaius shivered beneath her touch but didn’t pull away. “It was Demetrius’s influence, I’m certain of it. I felt it, but it didn’t affect me.”

“Diana.” Gaius’s fingertips skimmed along the back of her hand as he spoke, voice grave. Her eyes met his and she was surprised by the sorrow in them. The silent apology they offered. “I think it did.”

Diana’s heart stopped. Her body felt cold. 

Monstermurderermonstermurderermonstermurderer.

Diana withdrew her touch, clutching her hands to her chest. They were trembling.

She had lost herself. Again. How? She was better than this. She was not—

“Diana, that wasn’t you.”

Obviously, she wanted to snap and Gaius recoiled as if he had heard. Then Diana realized it was because, of course, he had. Nerves frayed, she had accidentally projected her thoughts down the bond in the height of her emotions.

“I meant,” Gaius said softly, gently pulling her hands away from her chest. His touch was warm, reassuring in a way it shouldn’t be. Not for her. Not from him. “I don’t think it’s your fault. I think the reason you became…” He frowned, searching for the right word. “...detached is because something else is influencing you. I think it happened with the Black Shuck too. You aren’t losing your humanity. You’re being corrupted”

“The Tree of Eternal Death,” Diana whispered, remembering the way she had felt Demetrius’s influence wash over her, leaving her unfazed while Gaius crumpled in pain. Except it hadn’t left her unfazed. It had fed into her, strengthened her, hardened her into something awful. Diana shook her head. “No. The island is so far away. That doesn’t make sense. It can’t.”

“But it does. It has to,” Gaius insisted, squeezing her hand. “Look at yourself, Diana. Look how worried you are, how afraid you were of hurting me, your enemy. If you were losing your humanity, you wouldn’t care about any of that. You wouldn’t care about losing yourself the way you do. Trust me. I know what it is like.”

Diana opened and closed her mouth. “You’re not my enemy.”

Gaius blinked as if he hadn’t realized he had said that aloud. Then he nodded slowly, thumb brushing across her knuckles. “And I am grateful for that. Truly.”

They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.

Then Diana glanced away, breaking the tension. “I still don’t understand how the Tree could be affecting me. We’re thousands of miles from the island. Other people would already be severely corrupted if his influence had spread so far.”

“You are of his blood, are you not?” Gaius questioned, brow raised. “His and Rheya’s? So perhaps you are linked to him. Psychically. You can feel his influence without needing to be physically near him. Whatever that was just now―whatever took over my memory―I think that was a result of Demetrius’s effect on you. We just happened to be in my mind when it happened, so I got pulled in with you.”

“But why now?” Diana wondered aloud, frustration coloring her voice. “We have lived over two decades in peace, and now I feel its pull?”

“Unfortunately, two decades is nothing in the grand scheme of things. But I don’t know, Diana,” Gaius frowned, looking troubled. “This psychic stuff isn’t my forte. If I had to guess… maybe something has happened on the island.”

Diana sagged, suddenly exhausted. “This is… a lot to take in.”

Gaius nodded, glancing over at the sliding door that led to the balcony of their hotel room. It was still dark outside, but it had been a long night of going through Gaius’s memories. “I think it’s time for us to get some sleep, Diana. We’ll think more on this later.”

“Yeah,” Diana sighed, untangling her hands from his. “You’re right.”

She clambered out of his bed and crossed the room to hers, drawing the curtains closed over the sliding door as she went. She collapsed into her bed, cocooning into the cool, cotton sheets and willed her heartbeat to slow, her mind to calm.

“Diana.” Gaius’s voice floated across the space between them, gentle but weary.

“Hm?”

“We’ll figure this out.” Then in her head, I promise.

Diana pursed her lips and turned on her side, putting her back to him. Goodnight, Gaius.

A beat of silence.

...Goodnight, Diana.

Diana laid there, staring into the dark, still uneasy and unable to sleep despite Gaius’s assurances and the ache in her bones. Minutes passed and eventually, Diana heard Gaius’s breathing even out, slow and deep. He was asleep.

She closed her eyes and willed sleep to pull her into its blissful embrace, but still, it wouldn’t come. After a while, she gave up and slipped out of bed. She grabbed her phone and wrapped her comforter around her shoulders before slipping out onto the balcony, closing the sliding door quietly behind her. Sighing, Diana plopped down in one of the lounge chairs and nestled into her blanket, pulling out her phone.

Diana idly scrolled through her social media, restless, before eventually closing out of her apps and locking her device. She glared into the distance, frustrated with the turn of events. As if she needed another problem on her hands. Why did she feel Demetrius’s influence now, after she had left New York in search of the artifacts?

Diana stiffened, hands tightening in the blanket. Was it possible the two events were related? That she felt Demetrius’s influence because of her search in Europe? Or perhaps… Perhaps she had dreamt of the artifacts because of his influence. Diana supposed the next question was whether the articles were supposed to further the corruption or combat it.

She unlocked her phone and opened her contact list until she found the one she was looking for. She stared at the name, then the number, thumb hovering over her screen. Then, Diana sighed and pressed the call button.

                                    “Norway? What are you doing in Norway?” Jax’s voice was incredulous over the phone and Diana winced, quickly toning down the volume. 

“I’ve never been,” Diana explained quietly, arms folded as she looked out at the slowly awakening town of Bergen. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and the clouds looked like cotton candy in the early morning light, lazily floating across the sky, their reflections rippling in the North Sea. “I’m at a dead-end right now. No new leads. So, I figured I would visit while I was out here. You know that I’ve always wanted to travel.”

Not necessarily a lie, but not the full truth either.

“I know,” Jax sighed and Diana could hear the weariness in his voice. “And I’m happy you’re out there doing your own thing and finding yourself―”

“Jax…” Diana rolled her eyes. She hated it when he said that. It made it sound like her journey away from New York City was some coming of age story. Although she supposed he wasn’t exactly wrong. Aside from searching for the artifacts, she admittedly had left to do some soul searching. To find out who she was on her own, outside of the city, apart from… apart from Adrian.

“―but we haven’t really heard from you in almost a month, aside from your email updates,” Jax continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “We know you can handle yourself, Diana, but we still worry. Because we care. And now you finally call and say you’re vacationing in Norway? What happened to those artifacts you were looking for?”

“Well, I found two of them already. The ones I sent you pictures of.” Diana chewed her lip, absentmindedly tugging on a strand of her hair. “I think there’s only one artifact left, Jax. Back in New York, I only dreamed of three. I thought that maybe once I started looking for them, I would develop a sort of knack for it and eventually find more.” Diana shook her head, some of her own frustration seeping into her voice. “But so far, it’s just been the three.”

“The amulet and the amphora,” Jax supplied, recalling the pictures she had emailed him, Kamilah, and Adrian. Diana had sent them about a week ago, with a brief update on her health and where she had found the artifacts, although she neglected to mention how she found them. Or with who. That was another problem. Diana had yet to tell anyone back in New York about traveling with Gaius. She didn’t know how to tell them, or what they would say when she did. She doubted it would be anything nice.

“Yes. Aside from that first reaction with the amulet, I still don’t know what they do. I’ve tried to get a read on them, but their presence is silent. It’s like whatever power they have has gone into hibernation. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Hopefully good. Well, that’s two,” Jax continued, voice curious. “What’s the third?”

Diana closed her eyes, recalling the dream she had over a month ago in New York and thinking of the sketch she had made of it in her notebook. “It’s a sort of ritual knife. It’s got a long, curved blade and a hilt carved of bone. There’s some sort of design etched into the handle, but I couldn’t make out the details. Of all of my visions, this was the haziest.”

Jax let out a long breath. “There’s gotta be thousands of knives like that. I bet Kamilah probably has a couple in her collection.”

Diana huffed a laugh. “She does. Kamilah was the first person I consulted after I had the dream, but unfortunately, it wasn’t in her possession.”

“Tough luck.”

“Just can’t get a break,” Diana agreed, smiling despite everything. “But if I managed to find the other two, it’s only a matter of time before I find this one, too.” Hopefully, she added to herself.

“Well, if anyone can find it, it’s you, Di,” Jax said, tone encouraging. Diana tried to feel half as confident in herself as he did.

“Yeah, well…” Diana’s smile fell and she stood, pacing to the edge of the balcony, leaning her forearms against the railing. “Listen, Jax… The reason I called is, well, I’m starting to think that the reason I started getting those visions wasn’t so I could find all these artifacts and keep them safe. I think… I think I’m supposed to find these three artifacts―and only these three―because I need them for something.”

“...What? Diana, no. What are you saying?” Jax’s disbelief was evident. Diana imagined he was pacing now. He had never been good at sitting still, the inclination to act overpowering the desire to think things through. “You’re meant to find these three things and use them? For what?”

“I don’t know, Jax,” Diana groaned quietly. She didn’t. Diana wasn’t even sure if the artifacts were related to Demetrius’s growing influence on her, and if they were, she wasn’t sure why she was so inclined to find them. But she wasn’t going to get any answers unless she investigated further. “Look, can you just do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.” He sounded suspicious.

Diana sighed, pushing her fingers through her hair. “Can you look into any reports about suspicious activity around Demetrius’s island? More suspicious than usual. 

“Demetrius? Diana, what is this about?”

“I just… have a feeling.” She bit her tongue. It would do no good to worry Jax over a theory. If he knew that she was being corrupted by the Tree of Eternal Death―that twice now, she had become something cold, cruel, and unfeeling―he would come to her, likely bringing the calvary with him. And Diana wasn’t ready to face that quite yet. “Please. Just check it out for me. Don’t engage.”

There was a long silence after that. The only way Diana knew that Jax hadn’t hung up was the sound of his footsteps, soft in the distance. She waited, chewing her lip and tapping her finger along the rail as she gazed out at the wondrous city, wishing she could see it like this without feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Fine,” Jax finally decided, evidently choosing not to press her for any further questions on the matter. “Just tell me one thing, Diana.”

“Ask away,” she replied, hoping she wouldn’t have to lie to him.

A pause. Then, “Why are you calling me?”

She blinked. That wasn’t what she expected. “Well, as you said, it’s been a while. I wanted to see how you’re doing. Keep you updated and ask you to―”

“No. I mean why are you calling me?” He sighed and Diana could hear the weariness in his voice. “You should talk to Adrian, Diana. I’m sure he would want nothing more than to hear from you. Just to know first-hand that you’re alright.”

“I know. You’re right, Jax,” Diana closed her eyes, massaging the bridge of her nose. This was not a conversation she was ready to have. “I just...I don’t know if I can. I don’t have the answers he wants right now.”

“Answers or no, he’d still want to hear from you. He just wants you to be safe and happy, regardless of what that means for the two of you,” Jax replied and Diana could hear the creak of his mattress as he sat down. “You know how the guy is. He’s a damn saint. Would put everyone else’s happiness before his own. Yours especially.”

Diana sighed, lips tugging into a frown. “Somehow, Jax, reminding me of that really isn’t helping.”

There was a soft chuckle. “Point is, Di, whatever answers you have for him, whenever you have those answers, he’ll live with it. And he’ll be fine. Avoiding this will only make it harder for you when you decide you’re ready to talk.”

Diana opened her eyes and stared long and hard out at the sea as it rippled beneath the morning light. She felt the sun’s gentle warmth on her face, reveling in the feel of it on her skin as she was reminded of a day, years ago, when she was an assistant, wandering the streets of New York City with her boss, enjoying daylight on borrowed time. She felt a pang of sadness, but at least it didn’t hurt. 

“Jax?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate when you’re right.”

Diana could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Good thing it doesn’t happen that often.”

“Alright,” Diana said, nodding to herself. “I’ll call him soon. Right now… I’m going to get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”

“You do that. I’ll talk to you later, Di. Try not to stay away too long. I miss you too, you know.”

She smiled softly, a gentle sea breeze stirring her hair. “I know. I miss you.”

“Goodbye, Diana.”

“Goodbye, Jax,” Diana whispered and hung up the phone. She stood there for a little while longer, enjoying a few moments in the light of dawn. Perhaps one day, before they left Bergen, she would walk these streets in the sun and steal a moment of peace for herself. But not today. She felt the exhaustion, heavy in her bones, and her mind became hazy with the prospect of sleep. Finally, she could rest.

Diana took in a deep breath, scenting sea salt and woodsmoke in the cool air. Then she grabbed her blanket and retreated inside the hotel room, closing the door behind her. She slipped beneath her covers, wrapping them tightly around herself, and fell into a deep sleep, comforted by the steady heartbeat of the man in the bed beside hers.

                                    Tagging: @bigmemesplz, @somin-yin, @bachelorettebound14, @mkamra2355, @mindlesschicca, @xbobbatea, @mikewawazoski, @vesselsynths, @dorkylittleweirdo

[mynameisnotcelia]

‘Another Shade of Melancholy’

This is all I have written of the story so far. It’s written in random memory fragments from the girl’s life (Suhar). This is a lot to post all at once, but I figure if someone out there really cares, it will all be worth it. 

Excerpt #1

The tiny blue Christmas lights twinkled in vain attempt to light the entirety of the bedroom. White painted walls seemed to reflect the light like soft neon signs, comfortingly melancholy. I continued to stare at them as if to congratulate their efforts.

“I guess I should sleep now.” I sighed and listened for the reply.

“But I don’t want to go.” It promptly came from the phone. A voice I understood.

“I know.”

 Excerpt #2

“You could leave the room if you wanted to. You just have to try.” The voice in my headset encouraged.

I declined the temptation to reply.

“Suhar? Are you listening?”

“Let’s build the tower here in this grassy area.” My avatar pointed on screen to an in-game plain full of tall grass and wildflowers. Innocent.

“Suhar. I won’t let this go.” My favorite voice just sighed, his avatar motionless, lifeless, refusing to give aid.

I sighed back. It was all I felt like giving.

“Can you at least tell me why?” The tiny blue Christmas lights on my ceiling shone in attempt to comfort me, adding to the screen’s light. My eyes felt numb.

“Here’s why, Galen. I don’t see the point. It’s pointless. I have everything I need. I have you. I don’t need to move, or change, or leave.” I spoke in a curt, detached manner. He probably wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Okay. I guess I can’t change your mind.” The headset crackled with the sound of his deep exhale.

“No, you can’t. But I won’t stop you from trying.”

We sat in silence for a moment there.

“Let’s get rid of all this grass first before we start building.” Galen’s avatar was breathed to life again and he moved, beginning the pointless task we’d set out to do.

“Okay.”

 Excerpt #3

I remember the first time I met him. My favorite voice. He was a paper boy in the culture that doesn’t read the paper.

It was just a simple walk to the end of the drive to get the mail. It took a lot of self-convincing to get there though. Flurries drifted down feather-like from the gray sky to cover everything. A maroon van with some news logo on it drove slowly by and he stuck his arm out to fling the newspaper wrapped in plastic into the driveway. November edition.

“Thank you!” I shouted at him to be heard over the wind. ‘Maybe paper boys don’t get enough “Thank you”s,’ I thought.

He didn’t miss a beat and even smiled at me. “’Welcome!”

The paper came next month. I waited, interested. It was the same man. I waved and thanked him. He smiled and waved back, as if also interested. But why would he be?

I started seeing him around if I looked hard enough. He was at the grocery store buying soup when my mother dragged me there (she doesn’t even live with me, so how does she still control me?). He was at the bank ATM when my older sister took me to input her deposit (she can’t love me, so why am I her last resort companion?). And of course, I saw him in the newspaper van. Various news kiosks around the city. He probably had multiple jobs.

He took my order at a coffee shop while I was on a date that I never asked to be on. The guy left the table with the excuse of an emergency call from work. I knew he must be disgusted by me.

“I’ve got a cup for… Su… Suhay? Su-hair?”

“Suhar. The ‘a’ rhymes with ‘car’. Thank you very much.” I was used to everyone saying my name wrong one way or another.

“Alright, here’s your small light brew, cream and sugar. Taking a break from finals, huh? Oh hey, wasn’t there a guy here just a minute ago? I’ve got a large cappuccino here for him.” He tried to make amiable conversation. His efforts were already better than most.

Didn’t even take his drink with him. I was cynically amazed and saddened at the same time.

“Oh, I guess he just left it. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. You can just throw it away or something.” What a waste of money.

The man’s face seemed to hold an expression of genuine concern. (How was that so?) “Wait, did you just get stood up? Did he just leave you here?” He looked back at the door as if to confront my absent date. “What the hell? Who does that?”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s happened before.” I tried for a polite smile but it probably didn’t turn out that well. Why did I bother going on these blind dates anymore? I was begging for pity, wasn’t I?

The man with the nice voice looked determined, as if he had made up his mind. “You know what? I haven’t taken my break yet today, how about I fill in for him? Would you mind chatting with another stranger for a while?” He gave me a smile. “My name is Galen, by the way.”

I was dumbfounded but amused. I had already been on a blind date with one stranger, what was one more? I had nowhere else to be. My lips curved into a small, cynical smile. “Sure. Why not?”

Galen’s grin got even wider. “Alright, let me just go clock out. I’ll be right back.”

I let myself laugh a little. He had set down the cappuccino across from me as if he was going to drink it instead.

 Excerpt #4

Light smoke from 18 bright, colorful candles and a few relative’s cigarettes fogged up the room, making everything blurry. The open windows helped alleviate this vision impairment.

I remember the cake was red velvet with black icing.

The smile on my face felt 80% forced and 20% genuine, to be specific. Scattered applause and whooping echoed around the room.

Then something strange. My mother leaned forward in her chair, and everyone turned to bask in her sophisticated aura that I did not inherit. All I can remember is the image of her face, set in its ways, in high detail compared to everyone else’s. The other people were like strangers in a dream; you can’t make out their features or anything about them, but the blobs of color they add to the reality-canvas are still perceivable. She looked me dead in the eye with her headstrong gray ones, and demanded,

“So when are you moving out?”

 Excerpt #5

“Your room is so boring. Not even colored walls. Why don’t you put up some posters or something?” My older sister oh-so-lovingly suggested as she waltzed into my room uninvited.

“I don’t have any poster-worthy interests, I guess.”

“You’re so weird. Anyway, Mom said it’s time for dinner. You should come up.” She shifted her weight onto one leg and gave me an odd look.

I turned to face her from my nest by the laptop. “Emims, you already know my answer.”

“Oh god, don’t ever call me by my full name, SUHAR. I hate it.” The emphasis on my own full name was probably meant to offend me. “Call me Emi like everyone does, got it?”

“Sure.” I never thought her name was that bad. It was formidable sounding though, I would give her that. “Kindly tell Mom that I’ll get something to eat later if I’m hungry, but thank her for inviting me.” It almost hurt to be so polite towards the woman.

“Yeah, figures. Well, have fun wasting away down here. See you whenever you come back to the land of the living.” Emims turned on her heel to leave.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

The door shut. I was alone again.

My gaze wandered to the ceiling. Maybe I could use some decoration.

+++++

“Hey. You know what I’m gonna ask you.” And here she was once again, disrupting my game in the middle of a very important pointless project. “What’s with the lights? It’s not even Christmas.”

I felt disappointed at her judgment, for some reason. “I thought you said I should decorate my room.”

“Not like this! These just look tacky on the ceiling. It’s not like they’ll help you see any better anyway.”

I decided it best not to respond.

“Well, I’m just gonna tell Mom you’re not coming up tonight. See ya.”

“Emi?” She stopped in the doorway, the light painting her as a dark silhouette. “Tell her to stop asking me. Please.”

Her expression was unreadable. “Sure.”

She lingered just a second longer than normal before shutting the door.

I was alone again.  

 Excerpt #6

There was a time when I was a young girl when I used to ask where daddy was.

“He’s at work today.” A glance to the side at some bills I couldn’t comprehend.

“You said that yesterday. He hasn’t come home yet.”

“He’s going to be at work for a while, okay Su?” Mother tried to smile at me but it just looked like a grimace.

Another day would pass, a few, a week, a month. Many more of those. Daddy was missing.

“Are you sure he isn’t coming back soon?”

“Yes, I am; will you stop asking for God’s sake? He’s not coming back and Mommy doesn’t want him to.” More bills and cigarettes.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

Simultaneously, I saw two images in my little brain. One glazed in sunlight, of a man stretching his hand out to me with the neighborhood park behind him. “Come on Suhar, you can’t keep a man waiting.” His smile was so gentle.

The other of that man coming home smelling strange and calling everyone bad names. “What do you keep bothering me for, Rani? Just let me go!” He shouted to my mother.

There was a time when I was a young girl when I used to ask where my father was. I stopped asking when I was 10.

Excerpt #7

How many times did we meet in that coffee shop? I remember visiting Galen during his shift and talking with him during his breaks. It was the only time I left the house. It became so a part of my routine that I forgot to question why.

Why was I interested?

Why was he interested?

No one had been interested before.

We usually sat at the same table I had met him at, as if to deny that my saddening blind date had never happened there. He’d make me the light brew I liked for free since it was “no trouble at all”. I hated and loved that simultaneously.

What did we ever talk about? I can’t recall. It was just words, sounds, his presence. All of it fascinated me.  This human was endearing, somehow.

And somehow, I was endearing to him. He never once looked disgusted.

Galen always smiled when I walked in.

Why?

 Excerpt #8

My mother climbed the business ladder so desperately; it was painful to watch her struggle in those maroon heels. The ones that click-clacked everywhere.

Because even when she reached a marvelous height, she kept reaching still higher. It was never enough for her.

“I’m only doing what’s best for my two daughters,” I’m sure she reasoned. Father wasn’t coming back, and so it was up to her to make sure that all was right with the world. That bills didn’t look so menacing anymore.

“Just another cigarette to ease the stress. Then I’ll quit.” I’m sure she thought. Father wasn’t coming back, and so she had to relieve the pressure, the frustration, somehow. Even if the bedroom smelled more like smoke than it should.

“If I can just make more money, I won’t have to worry anymore.” I’m sure she decided. Father wasn’t coming back, so someone had to make sure that no one had to feel her anxiety. Even if it meant pushing everyone else to be just as “successful”.

Those maroon heels stabbed my ears with their finality. Every time I heard them, I had the urge to hide. It was no use. If she wanted to say something, it would be said. If she wanted something done, it would be done.

But if she wanted her youngest daughter to become more like herself, the daughter would certainly refuse. She was the last person I wanted to become.

 Excerpt #9

I imagined our relationship like dance:

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Somehow, my voice trembled.

Why would you?

“Wouldn’t want to waste a good slow song.”

Why does he feel the need to whisper?

“Okay.”

The first movements were slow. Awkward. Unsure. How to proceed, how to go on? I followed naively to Galen’s lead. He was strong, kind, confident. At least it seemed so.

He twirled me around once, twice, then held me for a moment.

Galen’s smile was sheepish and sad. “I’ve never done this before. I hope I’m not hurting you.”

“No no, it’s fine. You’re wonderful.”

That smile, that smile. “Good.”

It almost hurt me, being here. How could you love a girl who’s dead, how could you? It’s absurd. It’s pointless. I’ll only drown you in the end, with my everything. I will drag you down; your terrified, disappointed, shocked… betrayed… face… will be the last thing I see before I sink with you. With my apathetic emotions around your neck like a lethargic noose, you will sink, and I will let myself fall with you to keep you company in that internal death.

But as Galen held me in his strong arms, I thought that maybe he was able to tolerate it. Perhaps he could handle it. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was all worth it to him.

My cowardice to his confidence… his feigned confidence.

Excerpt #10

She must have felt the pressure. It must have been deafening her ears until she could only hear what the queen told her. The damsel coerced into finding her own way out of the tower and to another higher one, rumored to be filled with success and happiness.

Emims must have felt it. Or, “Emi”, as she commanded everyone to call her.

That was why I never wanted to be like her.

She was the firstborn, the one who had to do well. My mother made sure of that: she put her in dance, speech class, monitored grades to make sure she was in all AP and Honors classes, the occasional sports team as well for good measure. Emims did everything she could to be good enough, though I know it was never good enough for Rani, my mother, the queen with a cigarette in one hand and a word-whip in the other.

My older sister’s views were never able to be individually formed; they were shaped by those thin, smoke stained fingers. Mother taught her to be bossy, confident, to pave her own way, to be superficially smart and efficient. Everything was on the surface, “You’ve got to always have that poker face,” she would say. So, that’s what Emims did.

Even so, there was always one hole in her fashionable armor: her real name.

She hated it. She was ashamed of it. It bothered her to no end.

That’s why I never called her “Emi”. Perhaps someday she would see that she didn’t have to hide to be beautiful.