#vibe for a hot second it won’t kill you in fact it’ll probably do the opposite if years of research or whatever is to be believed

[tacit-semantics]

(ID in alt+ click for quality)

It’s always “why would you go into the fucked up neuron forest” and “literally what good could come from going into the fucked up neuron forest” and never “how was the fucked up neuron forest the fucked up neuron forest looked fun”

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 36 S4: Seto Joins Dragon Wife in Hell

So I dunno about you guys, but 2020 aged me like a lot in just these 8 months, so I figured it was time to embrace the feeling of being on death’s door and I decided to learn Mahjong. So I could truly embrace the ancients and vibe in their natural habitat.

Anyway, once I learned some Mahjong lore, some parts of Yugioh just open up. Namely--Seto’s dragons. Like a whole lot of stuff about early Seto Kaiba that confused me at the time just makes so much more sense now.

But unfortunately, he dies this episode, and he never pulled out his Blue Eyes White Dragons, and it’s just like...

...but my Mahjong deep cuts...

Like every episode I’m just rubbing my palms together in anticipation that someone will die, but like...I never get to talk about how in Mahjong, there’s only 4 white dragon tiles, but if you have 3, you can steal the fourth white dragon from another player’s discards, and that when you that, other stuff happens...I don’t get to talk about that because Seto’s hella dead.

So lets just get to the death. Dartz decides to make all of our soldier frenemies attack Pharaoh--because that’s all he needs to raise the Leviathan. Like Dartz doesn’t even really need to finish this game. He just needs Yami.

Seto picks up that these friend (and Pegasus) soldiers that Yami refuses to kill are probably going to end the world very quickly so he decides to do something about it. If this were a blog where I talked about cards instead of Mahjong, then I’d dive into the intricacies of what that even was.

But, we’re not, so lets just talk about Pegasus.

(read more under the cut)

This guy harnesses some psychic energy he’s got leftover from S1 and communicates directly to Pharaoh’s mind.

So, hey, what was that about Pegasus not having powers anymore? Like? He’s still doing this? He’s still psychic and he very clearly can still make blank cards so like...I guess you can take out the eyeball and make him nicer, but you can’t take out some of the effed up magic side-effects. (like there was a comment I didn’t respond to (which, sorry about that, been a little nuts over here in California), but apparently there was a movie in between seasons where Pegasus saved their lives--so he’s legit good now...there was a DLC where character arcs happened.)

Which kind makes you wonder about Marik, but we’ll probably never see him again so o well, save it for the fanfiction.

PS Yami is totally fixating on that eye we can’t see, right? Like...it never outright tells us, but does this spiritual Orichalcos manifestation of Pegasus still have the golden eye? A human eye? Or no eye at all? Just skin?

Not like it matters because Seto does some sort of card shenanigans that undo the whole friends that are soldiers thing like it never happened.

MMMMM I don’t like these weird legs on Yugi. Don’t like the thighs it gave to Joey. No! I’m seeing like this skin-tight silhouette of half an ass right now and I really don’t like it.

Along with other card things I won’t go into that consumed most of this episode, Seto finally got hit by a...well, I mean you can clearly see it in the next cap.

So, in Mahjong, there are 3 types of dragons: a white dragon, a red dragon, and a green dragon. I used to think it was really lazy that we’re just calling monsters straight up “white dragon” or “red dragon” in this show, but now it makes more sense because this whole time it was probably baby’s first Mahjong reference but I’m too Western to know that.

Anyway, the white dragon is funny looking because it’s a white tile--just a completely blank white tile. I thought it was a wild card at first but nah--it’s a white dragon in a snowfield--which is a very funny Dad joke from 200 years ago we’re still doing today. But, often, instead of a Dad joke, they’ll just make the white dragon tile a drawing of a blank card, like this:

Kind of funny that the guy who’s shtick is white dragons, ended up with his soul in a blank card. Was that a mahjong reference? Probably not, but I noticed it.

And mahjong aside, the show paid it’s respects to Seto dying and so he took his sweet time passing on. It’s still not that much respect. We aren’t gonna get that amazing Joey death sequence from S3 that took like half an episode of scene-shredding for our mains to recover from, but like...Seto was very determined to keep going, despite not having a soul.

He even finished his turn of cards, as if to just spite Joey Wheeler for that one time Joey hella died before killing Marik.

Shippers rejoice, it’s a Yami and Seto Kaiba death sequence. If you squint really hard, it might even be an embrace. I mean they both have very sharp duel disks on, and if Yugi’s closes for whatever reason, it’ll snap Seto’s head clear off, but what other “hugs” do we really get on this show?

And as for Mokuba, he was quite tragic this episode. I mean it’s Yugioh, so it’s not like you’re gonna cry or anything, but Mokuba just doesn’t really have anything else going for him without his brother so it is legit like...man Mokuba gets a lot of crap thrown his way and even when he’s happy, he still has to live with Seto so just...Mokuba...

Again we get this bubble effect of other people trying to enter the Orichalcos which happens just a Hell of a lot this season. Like Dartz probably has never had a single person WANT to go in the green zone in 10,000 years and then these bizarre children happened and they just want to bounce off that thing like a jello pudding.

I think it took over 5 minutes for Seto to die, and he was very, very, VERY angry the entire time. Just fueled by literally nothing but rage. Could probably go a couple more episodes if he had taken a nap in the KaibaCopter, but alas, even Seto Kaiba eventually runs out of fumes.

Anyway, another Mahjong fun fact. The dragon tiles are considered an “honor tile” and how many times have we heard Seto--who is such a scumball--go off about his honor? It can be hard to use honors tiles because their rate of success is lower, so when Seto’s like “I have to live up to my dragon’s honor or I can’t keep these in my deck” could he be like...making a Mahjong pun as well as a literal reference to whatever he defines as honor?

...Again, just a Mahjong reference I noticed, but probably not what they intended at all. Which is Good Enough for this blog.

After he tragically passed on, and Yami delicately put his body on the ground, -- Dartz decided to make this moment very funny for me, instead.

Bless.

Not as good as Yami the both times his body was chucked casually across the screen this season--but a very good toss, nonetheless.

I have made so MANY clips of this season!

Tristan and Tea kinda just stood there this entire episode while this was all going down and like...I know they can’t really do anything else at this point but like...can someone give Mokuba a hug???

I can’t believe Valon was the only guy in this entire show about friendship who knew how to hug people. He was in prison since he was 9, and then was raised by freakin Dartz, why is he the only hugger?

PS, apparently Seto’s yummy soul was enough to make the Leviathan open a single eye-ball in curiosity.

Mokuba out there flinging so many insults that he got everyone else banned from watching devil cards. It’s like sports competitions in Middle school with that one kid who won’t stop cussing. That one kid who is the reason everyone else has to sit through a boring ass assembly about sportsmanship? That’s Mokuba.

Now that everyone is ‘passed out’, we can get to the juicy stuff only the olds talk about--which sounds a lot like I’m about to do another segway into talking about Mahjong again, but I’m actually all out of the Mahjong juice. Again, I’m ass at Mahjong.

(and like...the peanut gallery died in the original version, right? I know to never trust a “they’re just sleeping” line in Yugioh.)

Dartz telling me he dragged that ass length blue hair across Egypt?

Man.

I would say that it must’ve really thrown people, but then again, their Pharaoh looked like...that.

So Dartz ended up wandering the earth for 5000 years, cursed to live immortally, unable to revive the great Leviathan, wallowing in his failure. Sentenced to suffer the entire existence of humanity that he never wanted to see survive anyway, unable to die himself.

That’s an interesting plotline that I wish I saw more of. I really like the idea of a supervillian who is already past his prime, who’s already burnt out, who’s so far removed from what happened that he’s fully accepted his demise and is just wandering around out of habit. But, most importantly--that changes my math. That’s like...5000 years he wasn’t slurping no souls because he was too damn depressed. So I’ll append the Deathcount. One second.

OK so we can just subtract 7.3 million from what we had, leaving us with: 7,805,844,047. Barely even made a dent but...eh...when you got the current population of the Earth in there it’s really hard to make a dent in that thing.

PS I still have that google doc where I keep track of the deaths, we have 55 lines of entries, haha.

Yugioh is interesting because you do have some racial stuff going on here where Yami is SO OLD that he doesn’t remember not only his own name--he doesn’t remember what he looks like. He’s even seen it a few times in hallucinations but like...Yami legit doesn’t know what it is to be an ancient Egyptian anymore. It’s been a hot minute, and he still sees himself as a pale skinned Yugi clone when he spiritually manifests in the show. Because the modern day, set in Japan, through Yugi’s eyes--that’s all he knows about life.

Dartz was so impressed by Pharaoh’s magic powers that he knew--he just KNEW that this Pharaoh with the worst hair would be the yummy soul for the Leviathan tummy. But unfortunately...

This is a show that has had so MANY overlapping apocalypses that I did have to sit back and kind of count off on my fingers which crazy person this would be about.

Honestly? Either Seto or Bakura...guessing Bakura because we haven’t finished his storyline yet and I know that he’s the big bad of S5. But man...Dartz was just like “oh...no thanks to that guy. I’ll just take a nap for 5000 years, BIG no thanks.” and it does make you wonder...

...oh...so that’s why you didn’t bother Bakura in this timeline.

It also helps make Bakura even more of a threat. Again, Bakura is great because he’s just constantly leaving nuggets of what a threat he is and then just...disappears for seasons on end. The Bakura we’ve made in our head is probably way more awful than what he may end up being.

But for now, it’s fun to just fill in the gaps instead.

anyway that was it for this episode, I’m off to pretend it’s Thanksgiving week and will look forward to drowning my anxiety in a 16 lb turkey shared between four people.

Anyway, I brought up the cat that falls asleep on metal rods so I have to do this:

And for those that are new, this is a link to read these in chrono order: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[illusion-reality-steve]

I drew my boooooiiiiii - oh wait, why does he look different? Why does it say RQ!Mite?

Let me explain. Rn, it’s way too early to design RQ!Mite; the Galaxy Fam hasn’t shown up in Rainbow Quest yet.

RQ!Rainbow Steve isn’t a fusion, but every time the crystals create the hero, it’s always a new Rainbow Steve with a different main color. Every time the hero is unmade, that hero dies, which is why the crystals create a new hero each time.

So I wanted to play around with a concept/art challenge: What would SS!Mite Steve look like if RQ fusion/crystal logic was applied to him? I drew 4 Mite Steves, each with a different “main Steve” that determines their theme, power, and personality.

Story, bio, and design notes of each RQ!Mite below!

Memory!RQ!Mite:

Bio: The first Mite created by Steves in the RQ world (probably Galaxy and friends). This Mite prefers to do his work quietly without drawing attention. He does thing like being sneaky, shapeshifting into random Steves, erasing memories, and freezing time so people won’t notice him saving the day. As a result, he doesn’t have that many friends or fans, but he doesn’t mind since he doesn’t want the distraction or expectations. When he’s not working, he’s probably doing hobbies like gardening or cooking, and he loves cattos. The first Mite was killed because one day, he was outnumbered by enemies and had no one to help him defeat them. He died alone.

Design notes: I decreased the details and color variety, since this Mite doesn’t want to attract attention. I mean, he still looks extra(tm), but he can easily stay hidden or blend in with a crowd of similarly dressed Steves.

Illusion!RQ!Mite:

Bio: The second Mite, who is a hot mess who tries his best. There are some days when his perfectionism skyrockets, where he creates these intricate plans to defeat villains and he’ll cry if these intricate plans fail because they didn’t account for outside factors. But there are also days where he spots an enemy, throws a boulder at them and screams “AND STAY DEAD. I JUST WANT TO GO BACK HOME SO I CAN BINGE-WATCH SHOWS OR DISSOCIATE.” He pretends to not care about people, but he actually really really cares. He’s probably afraid of anything new, like new technology, new leaders, and the latest updates. He’s the only RQ!Mite who swears; no one knows when he learned swear words, and everyone is afraid of what else he knows. And yes, he’s self-aware and makes references to the Steve Saga. He’s dead now; I’m 120% sure it’s because he tried to leave the server and died trying...or maybe he’s still alive but exploring a different world :0

Design notes: tbh, I struggled coming up with a design. I gave him a generic detective, action movie protagonist vibe, since my Illusion design also has a detective/scientist theme. This boi is dressed because he has a job he takes seriously. He’s salty that the villain characters always have the better costumes, so he tries to one-up them. I love how the exaggerated popped collar reminds me of the “density of a black hole” graph. And he has bags under his eyes because he probably hasn’t slept in days.

Time!RQ!Mite:

Bio: The third Mite and the token functional boi of the 4. Unlike the previous Mites, this Mite is never seen doing his job. You’ll ask him “don’t you have to defend this realm?” and he’ll say “don’t worry, I am uwu.” And the world IS much more peaceful and every now and then, you’ll heard about a mysterious entity who saved a village from disaster. Whenever Mite is nearby when you read/hear this good news, he’ll whisper “~You’re welcome~” and say nothing else. You’re confused but eventually stop questioning him. Most of the time, this Mite is just vibing. He’s probably super into art. He just wants to have a good time and will be more than willing to be your friend if you come up to him and start a conversation. He is dead, and how he died is a mystery.

Design: At this point, I got sick of drawing purple and red so much (which still surprises me because how can you get sick of the colors purple and red?), so I didn’t want to use too much of it for Time!Mite. Does the green and blue make sense for his character? Probably not. Does it look good? Hopefully. I think it helped with the precious good boi energy. But I think I want to add some angst in the future, so I added abstract tears on his mask and more stormy, sad colors on the inside of his coat to counter the good boi energy.

Elemental!RQ!Mite:

Bio: The fourth and current Mite. This guy just did the job he was assigned. But one day he got curious about the previous three Mites. Using his time/space powers, he learned about their fate and went “oh no, that sounds awful! I don’t want this life anymore!” Then he got afraid that his creators would unmake him, so he decided to run away and find a place where he can defend himself. Using his elemental powers and time powers, he grew a forest to live in/rule. This forest is filled with illusion and memory powers. People who enter the forest will hallucinate from cryptid images and freak out until Mite shows up to scare them off. People try to tell their tales of the forest after escaping...if the memory powers don’t sink in and make them forget what they witnessed. Also.....the forest moves, very very slowly. It’ll grow to reach new biomes, while the older areas of the forest eventually disappear. It’s basically crawling. Mite’s just vibing in a cryptid, magical forest to avoid problems, and I love it.

(When he dies, the new Mite will have Memory as the main Steve, repeating the cycle)

Design notes: Mite, but he hates formal attire and has this vine thing that functions like a clawed hand...that’s it. I was debating about giving him the coat or not, and ended up drawing one he can wear as a cape; I toned down the inside colors because I worried they would be distracting. I gave him a nice flower crown and more vibrate blue hair tips.

Fun fact: my dad saw me draw this boi and he said Elemental!Mite looked like the Beast from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. And....I mean, they got the same energy, I guess? But I think they look too different, so I’m just confused and wondering why my dad said that.

***

TL;DR

Memory!RQ!Mite: Sneaky boi who doesn't give himself enough credit and deserves a nice nap

Illusion!RQ!Mite: Disaster Boi Plus(tm): Trying Edition

Time!RQ!Mite: If you're having a bad day and happen to be in a coffee shop owned by a local family, this boi will come in and study/sketch in this coffee shop until the bad vibes go away

Elemental!RQ!Mite: Feral king of a haunted, enchanted forest

I originally designed these guys to be a one time thing. But I’ve grown attached to these 4 new bois and I want to post more about them. Send help. Aaaahhhh

[yikesorps]

💘 + collin & lyla

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

They met while he and Avery were still in the dating phase. While they weren’t the best of friends, they kept in touch. I’ve always assumed that their career paths are what brought them together. I also think that the fact that he kind of always. had a crush on her ‘cause, well, we know how he is. 

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved?

I think that it started even while he was still with Avery, but Lyla was never really aware of it. But as for when they really started to talk, it didn’t take that long for the two to soften up at the idea of each other. After all, he wasn’t used to someone being nice to him and she was under the impression that he was just cute and sweet. How’s that working out for you, LYLA? 

who fell for who first ( if applicable? )

They fell at the same pace but I think Collin was the one that felt the need to really profess his love first. He was in such a hurry to prove that he was over his ex and so he sort of rushed the two of them into a relationship. It’s so weird because their idea of flirting is so widely different. 

where their first date was and what it was like?

Their first date was surprisingly very cute. They went to a record store and they each picked an album for one another based entirely on the look of the cover. Then they laid on her flower and he asked her if she wanted to be his girlfriend. As horrible as a human as he is, that moment really sealed the deal for me when it comes to these two. I am absolutely weak for them. 

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

Collin asked Lyla out first. He did it, as I said, while they were laying on the floor and at their most pure. My favorite part is that it was right after he swore up and down that he was not interested in getting a girlfriend.

who proposes first

I don’t think that they’re going to get married. Collin never wanted to get married the first time, and especially now that he’s been so damaged over his first marriage I don’t think that either of them would ever propose. I think that’s a conversation that they’re going to need to have, and I don’t think that she’s going to like it.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Their relationship was never a secret, not even for a second. He made it very clear to everyone as quickly as he could. Well, he made it clear to Avery. Ahaha. 

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Again, there won’t be a proposal. He is emotionally stunted. Lyla, I am so sorry.

if they adopt any pets together

Collin is notorious for not liking pets, and so I don’t see either of them getting one together. One day he’ll accept her cat, but that’s about as far as these two are going to get. 

who’s more dominant?

It is, and I say this with total sincerity, so obvious that the answer to this is Collin that I snorted as I typed this. Lyla does not have a dominant bone in her body. 

where their first kiss was and what it was like?

Their sweet first kiss happened on their first date. It was very sweet, and I would go as far as to call it one of the most wholesome things I’ve ever written. He started off very sweet with her because deep down he knows just how important Lyla is for him to keep around because she is so incredibly good for him.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

I can see Lyla getting them matching things, and he would go along with it just because he wants to make her happy. In particular, I think she’d get them mugs. Can you imagine the look on Avery’s face if she knew that they matched? I can’t.

how into pda they are?

They don’t go out too often but PDA isn’t really their style. I think that because their ideas of what is acceptable as far as PDA goes are so separate that it doesn’t work in their favor because he is far more touchy-feely than she is, meanwhile Lyla just wants to hold hands.

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Collin holds the umbrella for her because this is another instance of the height difference making it a necessity. 

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

They definitely frequent the record store that they went to together, as well as small coffee shops, plant shopping. Their dates revolve around things that Lyla likes, for sure. Deep down Collin is such a softie for her, and he constantly does want to make her happy. I think that guilt is also a big factor in it.

who’s more protective

Collin is definitely more protective over Lyla, but once again, I think that guilt plays a heavy hand in that. He knows what he is capable of, and he hates the idea of sharing her. But I think that Lyla is more protective of his feelings because she knows just how sensitive he is, deep down. 

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

It took quite a while before they had sex because that isn’t necessarily Lyla’s style. However, they shared a bed early on. They had their fair share of cuddling sessions and just trying to be close to each other whenever they could.

if they argue about anything

They argue pretty frequently but in such a lowkey fashion. I’ve noticed that they have pretty different outlooks on a lot of things. They argue mostly about the things Collin does, much like the other people in his life.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Neither of them and that isn’t from lack of trying on Collin’s end. I get the vibe that Lyla isn’t as into being marked up as Collin would like. But he definitely tries to get creative with where he leaves marks on her anyway. She just isn’t into his weird shit.

who steals whose clothes and how often

Lyla steals his shirts on occasion but I think it widely depends on the last time his laundry was done. Spoiler alert: she usually knows when that is because she helps him with it.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

They’re either spooning or Lyla is laying directly on him. There aren’t too many inbetweens but they’re usually just cuddling no matter how it happens. That’s one of the things that they do happen to agree on.

what their favourite nonsexual activity ?

Listening to records together, talking, watching movies, cooking ( or rather Lyla cooking ) the issue with their nonsexual activities is that Collin always tries to make them so.

how long they stay mad at each other

It doesn’t usually last long because Collin truly doesn’t like to see her upset. We must protect Lyla at all costs, and therefore whenever he says something idiotic he tries to turn it around quickly. 

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

We already know Collin likes his gross Dunkin’ shit. I see Lyla as a mostly tea person, but when she does get coffee I am working under the assumption that she likes it a little on the sweeter side. 

if they ever have any children together

It’s hard to say just because he already is a father but it isn’t something that I would rule out for them. I think the possibility is there, especially considering that one of the only things that Collin is good at is being a dad.

if they have any special pet names for each other

How come none of our ships have cute pet names? I would love an answer to that. They are all so basic in this category. 

if they ever split up and / or get back together?

I have a feeling that they’re going to split up very soon. However, they. will get back together because of the reasons we’ve already discussed. He does love his ex, but he also does love Lyla. It’ll take a lot of work though.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

They have wildly different decorating styles so their shared space would have such an odd array of decor. Lyla would not let him make it messy, however, so it would be clean but she would get all of the credit for it.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

They’ll be spending it apart just because he’s going to be with Willow. After all, Avery made it very clear that she is not allowed to tag along.

what their names are in each other’s phones

Collin is very basic, and it would just be Lyla’s name without any flare to it. I can see Lyla being a lot cuter about it and having it be ‘Col’ with some cutesy emojis. 

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

They don’t have any set in stone traditions but that isn’t to say that they aren’t creatures of habit. I’m sure that once they get past their issues, or rather his issues, they will manage to form some traditions of their own though. 

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first?

Lyla for both. Collin’s sleeping habits are absolute garbage. Whether it’s because he’s gaming, staying up all night drinking, or even just out with his ex-wife. Regardless, he isn’t ever an early riser unless he’s on tour.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon?

Collin is the frequent big spoon but sometimes they switch it up. However, he likes to feel protective over Lyla. 

who hogs the bathroom?

Neither of them. Lyla may take a little longer, but I don’t see her being too high maintenance. Honestly? Collin probably takes longer than she doe. Hot fucking take.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside?

Lyla is another example of someone who I do not think would be keen on killing spiders. I think she makes Collin take them outside.

[nightwingshero]

Claws and Fangs

My werewolf au!!! My first shot at it, but here it goes!!

Montana wasn’t the top of my list of states to visit, let alone live.  It never would have crossed my mind. I dreamed of the shiny lights of LA, Atlanta, New York, or even Paris. Never some town nobody has heard of in a state many people didn’t talk about much. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of at least seeing the National Parks was enticing, a part of nature that not many people got to see in their lifetime. But living here? Never crossed my mind.

Rowan had been right though, like she was about most things. Part of me wondered if her being just a bit older had anything to do with it, or the fact that she had seen more than I had to truly understand the reasoning behind why. I couldn’t say that Montana was terrible. Growing up in Oklahoma, farming country wasn’t exactly foreign to me. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it. I guess it had made being what I am easier, kept the secret where it needed to be. Rowan hadn’t been so fortunate. Her brother dying only eight years prior, hunted down by our own kind.

That led us together, ironically. My father punishing me for years for what I was, or what I wasn’t, and my snapping. Rowan’s loss and her wondering without direction. She found me that night, terrified out of my mind for what I had done. She was there to clean it; she was there to make it okay. And we’ve stuck together ever since.

I sigh and shift in the passenger seat, staring off into the fields and forests that passed us by as we drove. My feet propped on the door as wind whipped through the open window. It smelled so differently here, causing my heart to race in excitement. The promising freedom of it, all this land to run on, was refreshing to think about. It smelled like sunshine and clean water. It had me practically begging for a run in ever which direction. The freedom it promised…was so tempting. A certain scent lingered in the air that I couldn’t put my finger on, a spice that tickled my nose with a hint of…sandalwood? A shiver went down my spine as I reveled in it. I wanted to follow it, roll in it, and embrace it. But we had both agreed before we got here: no changing until we got a feel for the place and settled. We couldn’t risk anything before we could have a chance to actually have a home to call ours.

The scent began to fade quickly as we crossed a bridge, the sound of the river music to my ears before something sweet floated into our car. I rubbed my nose after sneezing, trying to adjust to the sudden change. We slowed before Rowan pulled into a gas station, shutting the car off at the pump with a sigh. Being cramped up in a small space for hours on end was hard, even with me being claustrophobic. It was never good for anyone, making their joints sore and themselves stir crazy. It was even worse for us; it drove us insane. We weren’t meant to be in confined spaces, it was against our very nature. I could feel the desperate urge to whine and pace, to hide in the woods and never come out. But I knew better. And if I had to be fairly honest, the other side of me liked car rides. They just never last long.

“I’m gonna go pay for gas. Want to grab some snacks for us?” Rowan asked, her dark brown eyes meeting my blue green once, and I can see the toll this has on her, too.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I replied, the dryness in my throat becoming more and more obvious. I opened the door, tugging at the cut off shorts that Rowan insisted would help us fit in. Which was why I had a blue flannel tied around my waist, instead of wearing the leather jacket that was now packed away. We didn’t want to appear too suspicious, and if that meant a change in wardrobe, then so be it. She rolled up the sleeves of the red flannel as we walked towards the store, and I could feel the heat of the sun on my exposed arms as the cool breeze swept in to soothe it.

The bell above the door rang as we entered, a blast of cool air washing over us. I could hear the unit running raggedly in the back, and I didn’t think it would last much longer. The old man at the counter looked up from his outdoors magazine and narrowed his eyes, but we pretended not to notice. Rowan moved to the counter, taking some cash from her back pocket. I made my way down the aisles, noting the jerky and off brand pastries that I knew had to be somewhat stale at this point. I sneered slightly at the smell of the preservatives. I could almost gag.

Finally making it to the back, I pull open a cooler door to grab a couple waters. I raised a brow at the lack of a biting chill before letting the door slam shut. I weigh my options as I eye the snacks one more time, feeling the gaze of the old man on me as Rowan waited. I caved, grabbing the jerky and some chips. Something was better than nothing, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. I round the corner and come up on a shelf of brochures on my left. I slow, taking them in. Some were for the national park in the Henbane, the hiking up North in the mountains, an apple orchard in the Valley east of us, and a haunted house tour of an old hotel.

A colorful pink one in particular caught my attention enough to grab it on the way. I stuff it in my back pocket before approaching the counter, setting the rewards of my hunting trip down for the cashier. His eyes narrow again before he starts scanning, grumbling, and his eyes drop to the line of my tank top. I almost growl and make a show of my teeth to give this man something to really look at, but I know better. So, I just clear my throat and glare back.

He rolled his eyes before telling Rowan our total. She hands it over with a smile, thanking him and telling him to keep the change before we’re finally making our way back outside. I settle back in the passenger seat while Rowan pumps the gas. I stick my Converse out the window as I lean back, pulling the jerky out of the plastic bag. My mouth waters, but I know that as soon as I eat it, I’ll be disappointed. It had been too long since we last hunted, not daring to take the risk of being tracked down. It made me restless.

The driver’s door opened as Rowan sat back in, fastening her seatbelt as she went. “There. That should hold us for a while. At least it can give us time to find somewhere else to go where I won’t have to be worried about being killed or kidnapped. Was I the only one getting a Cabin in the Woods vibe from that guy?”

I hum before I pull out the brochure from my pocket. “I pity any serial killer that tries to pull that shit on us. We bite back.” I flip it open, scanning and reading.

“Not really my taste.”

I chuckled and turned to her. “Hey, check this out.” I show her the hot pink trifold.

“Drubman Marina?” Rowan asked with a crinkle of her nose. “Like, I know you like the water, Wren, but I think we should probably find a place to live before we think about buying a boat. And I’m not really down for a houseboat. I’m sorry, I draw the line there. We agreed.”

“No, I know.” I flipped it open, pointing as I go. “She’s a real estate agent, and she’s right in the Henbane region. I don’t think she’s that far…” I trail off as I pull out a Hope County map that we had gotten at the visitor’s center right out of the county line. My eyes wondered over the Holland Valley region briefly, the memory of the scent there. Curiosity gnawed at me as I traced a road the small town, Fall’s End.

“It looks like she’s actually on the border of the Whitetails. Maybe she’ll know of some lodging up that way, something that can tide us over until we find something more permanent. It’ll give us a chance to get to know the area, too.”

“Yeah.” I replied, breaking from my trance. “I wonder if she takes walk ins.”

Rowan turned the key, the engine coming to life. “Guess we’re going to find out.”

 “This is exciting! Y’know, we never get newcomers. I always have to deal with people who’ve lived here all their lives. Never get to show people the wonders of this treasure state of ours.” The blonde goes on as she shuffles through the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, her back to us and bent in her chair. She pops her gum, the smell of cotton candy strong and I have to find my happy place. I could handle sweet, it wasn’t an issue, but it was so heavy in the Henbane. Mix it with the sweetness of Adelaide Drubman, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by it.

Seeming to find what she was looking for, she straightens and turns back to us, dropping the file heavy on her desk, making Rowan and I jump. “There we go! I have all kinds of stuff in this damn thing, let’s see if I can find what y’all are lookin’ for. Let’s start with regions. Now, each one has a special charm, and I’m Henbane’s.” She joked with a wink and a smile on her pink-painted lips.

“We actually did some research beforehand and had an idea of where.” Rowan chimed in with a polite smile. I could see just a hint of disappointment in Adelaide’s crystal blue eyes, but that doesn’t deter her.

“Which one did you ladies settle on?” The itching came back, that little gnawing at the back of my mind, and as Rowan answered, I impulsively blurted out mine, too.

“Whitetail—”

“Holland Valley.”

Adelaide’s brow raised as Rowan whipped her head around, her eyes scanning my face as I glance back at her. Her eyes show confusion and just a bit of concern. She cast a look at the blonde. “Can we…?”

“Oh, you go right ahead, darlin’.” Adelaide turned away, looking through her stack as Rowan’s attention fell back on me.

“Wren…I thought we talked about this. We both agreed. The Whitetails are better for us, it’s more…isolated. There would be more privacy, and it could be better hunting.” Rowan whispered, eyeing Adelaide here and there, the blonde humming lightly to herself.

Guilt bubbled inside, because she was absolutely right. We both agreed, it was a part of our plan. The Whitetails would offer us the sanctuary we needed. The Henbane was the second choice. Rangers and hikers to the north and east. Protected land that we desperately needed. Holland Valley was never an option, the chance of there not being enough cover for the both of us there. It was too open. But for some reason, I couldn’t get that damn scent out of my mind.

I leaned closer to Rowan, dropping my voice. “I know, and I’m sorry. But…did you not smell that on our drive through?”

Her dark brows furrowed. “Smell what?”

I sigh lightly, contemplating and frustrated. This wasn’t something that happened with us, being on different pages. Doubt began to eat at my insides. “I know it sounds crazy, but I smelled something strong and just…god, it was so enticing. I’ve never smelled anything like it before.”

Adelaide coughs a bit as Rowan tilts her head in contemplation. “We can check it out when everything is settled, I promise. But I think we should stick to the other two.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You know,” Adelaide gave us a look with her brow raised. “Some of these dipshits out here might still be ignorant, but there are still a good majority of us that support your lifestyle, dears.” She smirks, a knowing look piercing us and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.

“Oh, no,” Rowan laughed before gesturing between us. “We’re not a couple. We grew up together.” Adelaide only hums, but I can tell that her words held a double meaning, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

Her face becomes a mask of shock, something ingenuine about it as it doesn’t truly meet her eyes. She shrugged and continued. “Well, I’m just saying. So, any special fellas out there for yah?”

“No.” Rowan asked with a frown, both of us a bit shocked at the question.

“Really? You two are gorgeous, I’m shocked.” She laughed, and we give each other a quick glance. We say nothing, but we both know it’s not without some sort of effort. Packs, wolves in general, were dwindling in America. Or so we’ve gathered. They migrated North or overseas, or just died off. Being rogues put targets on our backs, but being unmated females made it so much worse. Female rogues that were unmated didn’t last very long, either claimed quickly or killed. The fact we made it this far was a miracle within itself, and one that wasn’t without bloodshed.

I smiled in response. “Dating isn’t really our thing. We decided to travel and just focus on what we want to do.” I lied smoothly. Adelaide sighed wistfully.

“Oh, to be young again. I envy you girls. What I would give to just pick and go wherever.”

“It’s freeing.” Rowan replied, and I nodded. It was freeing. Not being tied to a pack, or a male with too much testosterone for his own good. I think that was what made my lip curl the most. The males reeked of testosterone. Some made me gag more than others. Rowan said it had something to do with compatibility. A female’s sense of smell had a tendency to be more…sensitive than males. While all females smelled sweet to them, some were too sweet. That’s how her brother described it. Males smelled too musky sometimes, the less compatible, the worse it was. The more compatible, the stronger the pull. But at the end of the day, they were so full of themselves that even without the smell, they were repulsive. I enjoyed tearing into each and every one of them. “So, we’re thinking the Whitetail Mountains—”

Adelaide held her hand up, stopping Rowan in midsentence. “I love the mountains, dear. Absolutely. Any other time, I would be the first to suggest it.”

“But…?” I asked, eyeing her as she leaned forward.

“But I’m going to be real honest with you, girl to girl, I don’t think it’s the best fit for you right now.” I raised a brow, my pride and wrath clawing up at not liking to be told what to do. I fought to keep my teeth from showing. I counted to ten, did everything I could to calm the beast. Rowan threw me a side look, a shocked warning in her eyes. Careful. I knew that, and I was just as shocked as she was. I hadn’t been this worked up in a long time. I had long since gotten a control of that side of me. Now, the littlest thing was setting me off into a frenzy. Adelaide’s eyes looked at me curiously before continuing. “Not that I don’t think you strong, independent girls can’t do whatever you wanted, I’m just saying that the mountains and valley might be a bit…dangerous.”

“Dangerous? How?” Rowan asked with a slight scoff and hid my smirk behind my hand. Little did Adelaide know, there was nothing in this county more dangerous than the two women in front of her.

Adelaide shrugged. “Some people don’t take kindly to new folk. And you said you wanted to go somewhere isolated. The mountains are unforgiving, ladies. Things go bump in the night there and in the valley. This region offers both decent isolation, and great views. The sheriff’s station is also in this area, so if anything happens, you have a faster response. Besides, anything out of this region, you’ll have to go through John Seed when it comes to land. A lawyer makes things a bit more complicated, dears. Makes the process go a bit longer. And I don’t know if y’all want that. Trust me, I think you would love it here. Besides, we could be neighbors!”

Rowan and I share one last look, contemplating. The doubt was there, for sure. Trusting a total stranger, someone who would have absolutely no idea as to what we were and what we could do, over our own paranoia. But getting a lawyer involved was out of the question. It raised too many flags, and we needed to stay as off the grid as possible. We needed safety; it was the whole point of being here. To find a home we could reside without being discovered, and we were in an unknown territory. The choice was obvious, and we both came to that understanding without a word.

  It took us a week to get everything settled legally and moved in. I eventually got used to overly sweet scent, my nose only burning here and there. Adelaide and her boy toy, Xander, had graciously offered to help us. She was starting to grow on me more and more as time went on. She showed us the best place to go shopping, to get fresh meat, and highly recommended a pizza place not too far off the way. Our first night running was short and cautious, getting a feel for the land.

We stocked up on supplies, not having anything else better to do. Rowan applying for the newest park ranger posting, insisting it would help us blend in and establish some sort of roots here. I didn’t know how I felt about that, having been on the move all these years. I felt dizzy while everything seemed to finally slow down around us. I didn’t really think we could ever be able to do this, to have some sort of semblance of normality in our lives. It gave me hope.

The air was crisp, the sky full of stars as we got out of the car. The 8 Bit Pizza bar was busy and in full swing, even at eight in the evening. Outside, we could see Addie’s son and nephew, Hurk Jr and Boshaw, drinking beer and laughing away. They had helped us move furniture in, Adelaide not taking no for an answer. I opened my mouth to say something, but I froze, my feet coming to an immediate stop as the scent hits my nose. My mouth twists in distaste as Rowan’s nose crinkles. We both look, our guard up and prepared for anything.

I spot a cruiser at the end of the parking lot, closer to the forest. Two men, one older and the other younger, stood close and whispering urgently to each other. Even with my enhanced hearing, the noise from the establishment made it nearly impossible to hear what they were saying. Before Rowan and I move to leave, the older man caught our eyes and his head tilted to the side. His companion whipped his head around, taken in what had caught the old man’s attention.

He’s not unattractive, his tan skin and messy, swept back hair. He rolls his shoulders back, his chest puffing out a bit in the process. I sigh internally, because it was a show we’ve seen before, and I wonder who is the first one to die. Males didn’t typically take rejection well, despite how desperately we wanted peace. I’m trying to figure out a way to get out of this unscathed when the younger wolf turns and flashes his teeth, teasing and showing off.

My reaction is instantaneous. It wasn’t as much of an aggressive move as it was a way for him peacock. His way of putting himself on display while still in his skin. His way of flirting and an attempt to impress, a common move for most males. It wasn’t new to me. But the wolf was clawing inside, offended and aggravated at his audacity. It’s disrespectful to her, and she won’t stand for it. I’m shaking, fighting the instinct to go for the throat, and not for a mate’s mark. My teeth flash, promising violence and death if he dares to take another step.

Rowan squeezes my arm firmly, looking around to make sure no one is paying attention, but everyone is pretty much inside. Hurk and Sharky too plastered to comprehend what’s going on this far away. “What the hell are you doing? Wren, calm down.” She whispers harshly, softly pulling at my arm.

I wished I could answer her, but I couldn’t. I was consumed with rage and I honestly had no fucking clue what was wrong with me. I just knew this male was beneath us, unwanted, and he deserved to be put down until his throat was bare in submission. I wince, doing what I can to rein it in. I didn’t want a scene or to start off on the wrong foot. Something was wrong with me, and I needed to get my shit together. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

The older man stalks towards us with purpose, his eyes hard, and it reminds me of a time when my father did the same. The everything, the anger and offense, evaporates immediately and fear replaces it. I hated males with a passion. I hated their need to be in control, feeling more powerful than anyone else.

“Rogue females? Don’t see that every day.” His voice is gravely as he grumbles, and he spits to the side. “Name’s Dutch.”

“Didn’t think there were any more wolves around here.” Rowan replied icily as she glared at him, and he shrugs.

“There are more wolves in the North, girl. Don’t know where you come from, but we’re around up here. Maybe should’ve thought about that.”

“Noted.”

His friend finally came up to join him, and I fight to snap at him. His eyes are twinkling in amusement, as if I was nothing but a piece of entertainment for him. “Unmated females, at that. You know, that won’t last long with you being on your own.”

I sneer at him and his taunting. Dutch rolls his eyes. “Forgive this dumbass here, Pratt isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.” Pratt shot him a look, but the older man ignored him. “He’s right though. You passing through or staying?”

Rowan and I share a look, unsure of how to respond, before she throws her chin up high. “Staying. And we don’t intend on leaving anytime soon.”

Pratt let out a low whistle as Dutch rubs his bald head thoughtfully. “Ain’t no one asking you to leave, girlie. Relax.” He held his hands in surrender. “Just thought you could use some friends, I’m sure you’re a bit short on those.” When we don’t say anything, he sighs and continues. “Look, we aren’t the only ones here. I’m offering you a friendship, here.”

“You don’t know us.” I blurted, eyeing him up and down, trying to size him up as my instincts kicked in. He was a strong beta and could possibly pass for an alpha status. He carried himself as if he was a leader, more than what was pumping through his veins. Pratt was no better; except I knew that beta was all he could ever be. “What’s in it for you?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Everyone starts off not knowing each other real well, don’t they? I figured maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a makeshift pack. Rogues don’t last long on their own, which is why I’m sure you two are running around together.” I shift uneasily, because he’s not wrong. When my father died, I had felt it. I had felt the loneliness of being without a pack, or at least someone. Rowan and I had stuck together ever since, but it wasn’t enough. I could feel the pull, the desperate need for more than what we had.

“And what? Are you supposed to be the head of it?” Rowan asked genuinely, and I held my scoff to myself as he smiled at her.

“Of course. And I take care of my own.” He reached his hand out. “Friends?”

We both hesitate, unsure of what to do in this situation. Both of them together is making me want to gag, their scents mingling and making me want to hurl. Maybe at one time, Pratt would’ve smelled more appealing to me, his pine undertone with a crisp scent I can’t pinpoint. But it’s not good enough, not anymore. I can feel myself looking down on him, despite him being a bit taller.

Rowan sighed, her hand grasping his. “Friends.” I follow suit, offering him, and him alone, a polite smile. This male is no threat to us, not showing a bit of interest like his partner. It’s easier to make friends with strangers who haven’t offended you.

“Word of the wise, ladies.” He said, holding up his pointer finger. “Stay clear of those mountains and that valley. Like I said, we’re not the only wolves around here. I have some land, an island in the center of the county. You’re more than welcome to stop by whenever you want.”

Adelaide calls to us, making Rowan and I jump out of our skins. The blonde eyes Dutch with a sickly-sweet smile, malice shining in her bright blues. I’m taken aback by it, knowing nothing but kindness from the woman. She motions us forward, beckoning us to join her and her family inside. We part ways with the males, eager for the escape, and Addie doesn’t follow us in until she sees them leave. She turns to us, lips pursed.

“Be careful, ladies. You’re better off in the Valley or Whitetails than to hang around him. Trust me, he’s not what he claims to be.”

  “So, we agree?” Rowan asked on our drive home. “That we keep our fucking heads down. I do my job at the springs, you do whatever. I heard of a deputy posting at the jail, wouldn’t hurt. But either way, we stay the fuck away from whatever is going down. Right?”

“Why don’t we just leave?” I ask, glancing at Rowan. “It’s been a week, and we’ve already stepped into a werewolf soap opera. I don’t know about you, but I could do without dramatics. Or that pup sniffing around.” I sneer.

Rowan scoffed. “Is this about the drama or the male?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“I like it here.” Rowan admitted. “I think it’s pretty and it could do us some good. There’s an older wolf here that seems to mean well. And it wasn’t like we were running eager to Holland Valley or the Whitetails. Sure, we contemplated it, but we know the area better now.”

I frowned and I picked at the edge of my t-shirt. “What about that scent? The one I caught when we were driving through the valley?”

“It could’ve been a fluke, Wren. Maybe it’s best to stay in the Henbane, you know?” she sighed and glanced at me. “You wanna talk about what happened back there?”

I turned, looking out the window as I shrug. “I have no clue. I haven’t lost control like that in a long time. It just bothered me, you know? I felt like he wasn’t…good enough.”

“When hasn’t that been the case for either of us?” Rowan laughed.

“It was different this time.” I turned back to her; my brow furrowed. “I, my wolf, got offended, Rowan. In the worst possible way.”

Rowan frowned. “Wren, he didn’t really do anything…insulting. It’s a typical practice in our nature, especially with males.”

“I know. Ro, I think there’s something wrong with me.” I glance at my hands, the dark vine tattoos contrasting on my light skin. “I was so ready to rip this guy apart, to make him submit. I’ve never felt like that before, you know?”

“And you’re sure you don’t have alpha blood in you?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Positive.” I sighed with a roll of my eyes. “Maybe…maybe I’m just stressed from the long drive and the change of moving, you know? I just need time to adjust.” I couldn’t tell who I was trying to convince more: Rowan or myself.

[pass3rby]

Caught By Your Past

25th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

A/N: Good morning, San Francisco (or any other city of your choice for that matter)! Let's kick the day up, shall we?

She was on her way back home from campus when her phone went off. Having to fish it out of the tangle in her bag – USB cable, flash disc, second one, tissues, earbuds, lipstick – almost made her regret her habit of towing around the whole tech station and then some. Almost. She stumbled across her phone soon enough and the thoughts of getting rid of all those things first thing after stepping over the flat's threshold, disappeared again.

Checking the display, she gave a dejected sigh before accepting the call.

“Yeah?” So maybe her tone held a bit of a fake cheer, but there was no need to ruin someone else's mood, was there.

“There's this place I've heard is pretty rad!”

She figured as much; an eagerness to check out new places was a well-known trait of her friend. Trademark, barely restrained excitement in Mary's voice hit her full blast and really, was she ever void of energy? Gie was yet to see her anywhere near depleted. It would feel so good to talk with someone of a similar exhaustion level to her own. Maybe she could call Evie... Jacob's a pain in his sister's ass, too. That might work.

“Enjoy,” keeping up with the current conversation, she went with a sudden spur of a moment and entered a convenience store she was about to pass by. Time to treat herself; who knows how it'll look at home when she gets there. While choosing a thoroughly inappropriate late snack, she might as well listen to Mary, gushing over this new hot spot.

With luck, she only wanted to spill the beans and details about the new place and that would be the end of it. Gie was out for count as it was, just happy to drag herself to bed. Normally, she would welcome an opportunity to go out, but the constant hot & cold vibes coming from an unnamed pair of lost cases was starting to take its toll on her. Just as she was leaving for today's lessons, she heard them yelling again. And although staying out would keep her away from that for a little bit, she was ripe for a generous hibernation, not an evening out.

“You have to come with us!”

So, Mary was gathering a crew for the night out. Gie went with a neutral response, while absentmindedly checking one of the apples on sale:

“Sounds amazing-”

“I thought so, too! Pretty sweet. It's in a nice part of the city, too. Kinda dingy street, but it's not like we're gonna get jumped there.” True social life enthusiast that her classmate was, her mouth went two hundred miles per hour already, not even waiting for the explanative part of Gie's negative response. Also, no to that apple. Neither unhealthy, nor with enough chocolate percentage in it.

Tough luck today, buddy.

Skirting the whole fruit & vegetables section, she dived further to the more sin enabling and supplying section of the store.

“Altair and Malik are at each other's throat again.” There. At least she could make use of Mary knowing about the situation. Saves loads of time otherwise spent by a lengthy explanation. Maybe she won't even need to ring Evie up, after all.

Her friend, being a trooper, jumped promptly over onto the new topic like a pro.

“Thought you said neither of them is Spanish. Or French.”

“They're not, smartass,” and that chocolate looked tempting. She wasn't going to lower herself to buying an ice cream bucket, but that extra large hazelnut milk chocolate bar had her name on its wrapping. “You met them both to know that yourself.”

“So what's the deal?” Mary's voice was intent on the topic, fully focused like she always was with everything she decided to participate in. A good friend although and at the same time because of her brazen attitude, right there.

Okay, chocolate. You're coming with me. Do not resist and I won't be forced to use handcuffs on you.

Apprehending the criminal, she turned on her heel to go fetch something to drink, too – before re-turning around to grab a second bar. Just in case.

“I don't know. I mean, they are sorta... all-or-nothing kind of deal?”

“So, they either fuck or hate each other.” The words coming from the phone stayed true to its owner's spirit – no beating around the bush, they mowed the topic right over.

A vivid memory of mum threatening to wash her mouth with soap whenever she 'slipped', popped up in her mind. Mary wouldn't've last one day visit at their house without frothing at the mouth – one way or another. Funny thought right there.

“Pretty much. Without the-”

“-fucking. Yadda yadda yadda. I don't know if I should laugh at your brother or rethink my gender and step between them and wait which one would grab my ass first.”

“Mary!”

“What? They're attractive! Ten out of ten would tap that.”

Most of her friends did not miss the opportunity to tell her how dumb she was to let Altair go when their pack of she wolves was out last Friday. Mary'd just shrugged. 'Well at least you're out of competition if the guys ever changed their mind' – that're her exact words. While at least one of the girls would mean them, the free-spirited drinker had been quite obviously taking the piss. Like right now. Tough empathy – that's what Gie called it; Mary was the best.

Mood getting back on its feet, having shaken off the gloom, Georgie chuckled wryly and joined in the game.

“You'd stand no chance anyway. They wouldn't even notice you there.”

“That bad?”

“Their eyes are boning each other constantly, only their bodies resist the pull.” Now, that was a relief to say it out loud. Gie picked up a flavored green iced tea out of a refrigerator before making a bee-line to the cashier.

“Mindfucked too much?” It was hard to tell whether Mary was home already or not. While such generous use of foul language would usually point you somewhere 'safe to express yourself' if not in the home base direction outright, Mary was known to drop an F-bombs on a daily basis wherever. In the middle of the class wouldn't be her first time either. She lived closer to the campus, though.

“More like not enough.” Putting the handpicked items onto an empty space next to the register, she greeted the employee before refocusing back on Mary. Her answer must've betray a part of her previous dejected mood, because the response was instant and spot on.

“Damn. You're not coming, are you.”

“Not feeling it, I'm sorry.” There was no denying that she felt better now, but she'd still prefer to stay home tonight.

“Alright,” Her phone transported a heavily put-upon sigh right to her ear, “You're excused this once. If they drag you into their depressive circle of hell, though, I'm gonna come haunt their asses.” Fierce friends had certain perks.

“Or hunt.” Gie shot back good naturedly as she was getting through the payment procedure. That going off without a hitch, she was out of the store in no time.

“What do you know. It could bring the same results.”

“Despair?” It would be hard to miss her snicker. The door of the store closed behind her and she got back on her track leading home with renewed vigor, failsafe mechanism safely tucked in her bag.

“Ha ha. That's what I get for caring about you.”

But when the phone call ended ten minutes later, she wondered whether Mary will have to be taken up on her offer, if it'll really come to that. Will there be silence when she gets home? What sort of scene will greet her?[P1]  To make the suddenly reinstated warzone even worse, the pair of undecisive fools was getting along pretty fine as of late.

Did Thor hit them with his hammer over their heads or something?

Now, arguments and bickering were a part of any relationship. Clashes were either handled or not and that was it; a 'make it or break it' sort of deal basically and again, a pretty standard one at that. These two? They had brought the art of disputes to a whole another level by the sheer amount of practice in pair. What was left there to argue about, though? She could swear that they've argued even about the water pressure in the shower already.

Taking a step back, maybe there was no need for them to make it official at all. They fought like a couple already, so there was a good chance that they had the partner software for encouraging staying together installed, too. But maybe not.

Them being as they are? Holding onto the remnants of their wild card statuses while also leaning over toward the other? It could bring literally anything. As of now, chaos and strangling of one another would be her bet on the most probable outcome, no matter what she really hoped for.

What truly boggled her mind was that the 'wild card' issue was more of Malik's signature there than Altair's. Sounding strange? Maybe because it was. If anything, you could always count on Malik being solid. As on him being a silent snide sniper. His words got the kill while his face might as well been cut from marble. That was his nature and it came with an objectively calm demeanor. All of that, her brother might rightfully pride himself for, because he perfected every single part of it to a state of art. Throwing him off, not to mention making his wall of tranquility crumble to dust wasn't an easy achievement.

Then Altair entered – or re-entered – the picture, turning out to be an equivalent to the proverbial fairy with a magical wand. 'Unusual' wouldn't even make the cut for an appropriate description of how out of character this was for her brother and still, the facts stood.

Not that she hadn't wondered about the strange enigma before; it only wasn't as important then as many other aspects that needed to be accounted for. But maybe it should have been. Altair's presence was undeniably toying with Malik on a full scale, so it was safe to assume that their whole relationship must've been even more complicated, elaborate or not, than she anticipated – and she gave a lot of room to possible variations of their history.

What was so bad about Altair that kept Malik doubtful?

Their personalities clashing could hardly be the reason – it obviously didn't matter even back in their heydays. Was he still hung up on the fact that she and Altair together were the plan A and the reason why the guy was here in the first place? Her brother could, indeed, hold a grudge. Was it the job? If so, then... Okay, it wasn't a traditional nine-to-five job where you are safely tucked in an office, she'd give Malik that. But Gie saw them together; this hesitating and dancing around each other would make sense only if they did not feel as strongly about each other anymore. To that, she called bullshit. She'd probably do the best to ask Altair about that when the soonest opportunity arises.

Using the key to their flat, she unlocked the door and nudged it ajar.

No sound.

Promising enough. Entering the flat, she put her bag on the bench right by the door.

Altair was passed out, half-lying behind the living room's low table, half-propped up on her beanbag in a position that suggested something was missing in the picture. The flat screen was still on, although only some commercial nonsense on low volume was taking up the screen there.

Before she could investigate the crime scene any further, different kind of muted noises caught her attention. They were coming from the direction corresponding with only one room in the apartment. That answered the question of where Malik disappeared to. Taking one deep breath for courage, she walked over to the kitchen.

“Hey.” Her greeting was on a cautious side of the spectrum, but nobody could blame her.

“Hey yourself,” Malik answered in kind readily enough if a bit distracted. Scanning what must've been instructions on a box of something presumably eventually edible, his attention taking its sweet time to shift onto her. Not that she minded; this wasn't bad compared to any kind of confrontation. She'd had it up to here of that.

“Coffee?” The offhand offer made its way to her, while Malik's eyes flicked back and forth between her and what appeared to be an instant version of Rubik's cube to him. An already made batch of coffee was the current main star of the kitchen counter. Steam coming from it declared that the beverage was fresh, too.

“Uh... I'll probably go with just tea? Thanks, though.” Perking up at that, he decidedly put the package back in the pantry, obviously finding the required amount of effort overly too much to bother with. It would also be Malik's attitude to food in general in a nutshell.

She was about to go over and set necessary things up to fix herself a cup, but Malik was one step ahead of her.

“The tests weren't bad then?” She watched as her brother proceeded to put water in the electric kettle before switching the thing on.

Oh.

“They were fine.” Since she had to wait for the water to boil, it was only sound logic to plop down on a chair – which was exactly what she did.

“Were they.”

“Stop it, you moron, you're not my parent.” Reminding him her adult status was a moot point now, but she did it anyway. Meanwhile, Malik poured himself a mugful of the steamy, tar black liquid, completely unperturbed.

“Look at the good news. The day's just gotten better for the both of us.” For all intents and purposes, his expectant look was interchangeable with the one of a hawk stalking its prey. She grudgingly conceded only because there was no other easy way of getting from under that type of scrutiny.

“I may not ace them both, but it wasn't as terrible as I expected. Professor de Sable took ill and our tests will be marked by a substitute teacher, so there's no way I'll get a bad mark on that one either.”

The nightmarish teacher had been picking on her ever since her first year of taking the course. She couldn't help but secretly think of his illness as a gift from above.

“I though you said you got a different lecturer already?” If Gie was ten years younger, she'd probably appreciate his brotherly frown much more. As it was, she could handle one numskull without any additional help.

“False alarm. That would be that substitute I've mentioned. Looks like the baldhead doesn't know when to-” Sensing warning in the air, she promptly changed the intended ending of her sentence:

“-leave the scene,” which was closely followed by a quietly mumbled “or kick the bucket” original version.

“You were saying?”

“I said that he apparently must've dig his heels in somehow.” Gie blatantly lied without an ounce of shame in her body.

The good thing about being raised into adulthood by a strict brother? He was still way more lenient than their parents would be. She held no hope of her brother believing that's what she really said, but he let her be anyway, because Malik himself thought that the guy was an asshole. But even better than that; any 'tight spots' like this one trained her in the façade game that Malik was a master of, too.

When he wanted to be, that is. Looking at him taking the box full of teabags in his hand, nose wrinkling in disgust, one wouldn't believe such a claim. If Malik could, he would hold that box like a bag full of dog presents, no doubt. Dork.

“Sheesh, you're a riot. Give me that,” Getting back on her feet, she stole the box which was offending her brother's sensibilities out of his grasp and fished out one teabag before storing the rest back in the cupboard. Right on time, the kettle switched off, too, so she threw the teabag inside an empty mug that Malik had left on the counter for that purpose exactly and poured hot over it straight away. Brimming with satisfaction, she looked over at Malik, who still did not bother to regain his stony decorum. As much as he was furrowing his brows, though, he was in a casual, laid-back mood.

“You should stop.” Still, his voice was as gruff as always. His nod towards her drink said all there was needed to decipher what he was referring to. She nonchalantly ignored the clue, pretending ignorance.

“With what?” She intentionally gave Malik an innocent look.

“Drinking that garbage.” As if she did not see that coming. The deadpan nag made her snicker for its utter uselessness. They had gone over this one thousand times already and yet, somehow, Malik never seemed to tire of it.

“You should stop,” she shot back to exact her revenge.

“With what?” Humoring her, he went along with the game, striking the familiar pose which included folded arms on his chest. His eyes were soft, though; contrary to their hard shine whenever adapting the posture in a serious conflict.

He probably expected her to say something along the lines of “nagging me about the tea” and to be fair, nobody could blame him for it since that was exactly what she wanted to go with. Initially. But a single, no matter how short, moment to rethink the opportunity was all it took to decide on a change. Biting on her lower lip, she went for it.

“Being so stubborn.” And she might as well ask for a sky to lean down and hand over some of its stars to her while she was at it. Honestly, Gie was well-aware of how her words sounded. But demanding an all-out annihilation of the character trait wasn't the point here. Therefore, she clarified:

“Why do you guys argue so much – really?”

Fully prepared to see him withdrawing into himself and closing off again, she faced a distinctly different reaction. While Malik was fast to catch onto what she was talking about, he showed no sign of being displeased with the topic.

“I argue with idiots in general. That's my job. I thought you already knew that.” Even busy with removing the teabag out of her mug after taking a careful, evaluating sip, it didn't stop her from pointing the obvious, encouraged by his response:

“Yeah, but not like you do with Altair...” It was much easier to continue pursuing the matter with his open attitude and his trademark scowl on vacation.

At last noticing that the issue was really troubling her, his blasé vibe evaporated out of the room. Sh- shrooms in a meadow. Counting her chickens way too soon.

“Geor-”

“I know I have no right to stick my nose into it, but what happened so wrong that you feel the constant need to butt heads?”

Silence and him clenching his jaw didn't look much promising in regard to her hopes of getting an answer when-

“We just do.” While his tone was even, and Malik obviously managed to reign whatever had made him grit his teeth in, all she got for her trouble was less than a bare minimum one would be able to work with. Before she could even let out a put-upon exhale at the cryptic reply, though, he gave in and elaborated further:

“It's the way we deal with stuff.” Now it was his turn to mumble something. What, Gie didn't manage to catch, “We've solved the... issue already, though.”

“So you'll argue less now?”

“Not likely,” if that wasn't a definitive statement right there. Splendid. She was starting to think that Mary was right. In one-year time, Italian mafia will pale in comparison. Relationship preferences...

Thinking back a bit, this was the first time Malik also openly addressed his relationship with Altair in her company. And what a fanfare did he chose to play it with. Speaking of that, on a closer look, Malik seemed this close to ask a question of its own, but he swiftly buried it expertly, shoving his attention into the caffeinated drink of his choice, he was holding. She could guess what this was about, though. Her brother was truly hopeless.

Ask who needs it spelled out for them again, brother.

“Hey.” Unphased, she walked over and started to unload stuff from the fridge that would make for a solid, good meal when rightly prepared. Chicken, vegetables and rice will do it.

“Hm?”

“I really don't mind, okay?” Malik took some time to react other than pin her with an intense gaze.

“Why?”

She smiled. For once, he was the dumb one.

“Because you're my brother.” Good and done with that, she pulled out a cutting board, issuing a challenge:

“Wanna cook together?”

“You'll tell me to get out in five minutes flat.” Was the gruff answer.

“That's not an answer.”

Keeping an eye on her with undisguised suspicion, he cautiously went to get a knife.

“The kitchen counter is not long enough for both of us.”

“I was here first!” Immediately calling dibs on the piece of furniture, she laughed as he swore.

Next

[forestwater87]

Things have been . . . weird since David visited. Like a veil's fallen that really should've stayed up.

Like it's just a matter of time before things all go to hell.

So this happened! It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have @raenbowsofficial​ beta-ing and @hopefullypessimistic84​ and @ciphernetics​ keeping me, as usual, from completely ripping this story into pieces and sobbing on the fragments. You have them to blame for this. (It was going to be much longer but then things got weird so I’m splitting it up. But next chapter we’re returning to camp, so yay!)

The chapter is also below the cut, in case you prefer reading stuff in Tumblr instead of AO3.

Also the title is shamelessly ripping from the Gwenniest song that has ever existed. It’s amazing and everyone should listen to it.

April 2017

"It's your birthdayyyyyy! You can't say you're just gonna do nothing!"

Gwen glanced up at Claire with a frown. She'd sort of assumed the ripped tank top and oversized boxers — as well as the fact that she was curled up in bed surrounded by two family-sized bags of Cheetos — spoke for her. "Right, but I just did."

Claire maneuvered the chaotic bedroom, plopping down on the foot of the bed (nearly squashing Platypus, who'd taken shelter under a pile of blankets). "But you're twenty-seven!"

"That's not an important year, Claire-bear. No one gives a shit about 27. Besides, I have work tomorrow."

She dismissed the thought with a wave. "It's a Thursday night, work doesn't matter." Her face turned serious, the kind of doe-eyed earnestness that reminded her painfully of David. "You've been moping ever since he left, Gwen. I just got used to seeing you happy."

Gwen rolled her eyes, trying not to be touched by her roommate's concern. "He didn't die," she muttered, "he went back home. It's fine. We're talking tonight." For like five minutes, because he had work. And that was fine, they'd planned for that, she knew he had to work himself ragged to live on his camp counselor's salary.

It didn't bother her.

"Come onnnn, Santa. Please let us take you out?" She pouted, and it was irritatingly adorable; Claire was a porcelain doll, all delicate features and fragile vulnerability that made it almost impossible to say no to her. (She never had to pay for things. It was so unfair.)

But fuck, Gwen hated socializing. "Maybe," she finally said, pulling her computer into her lap and pointedly turning her attention to Tumblr. "I'll check with David."

"I think it's a great idea!"

Gwen sighed. Of course he did. Not that he was the kind of guy who'd forbid her to go even if he didn't want her to, but that'd been her last possible excuse. "Are you sure? New York's dangerous, and I'll be drinking." She paused meaningfully. "Could be risky."

There was just the briefest hesitation. "I'm sure you'll be fine!" Another tiny pause, then David added, "You have Claire and Ana going with you, right?"

"Yeah." Not that she expected her roommates to be much help in an attempted kidnapping scenario, but if this stupid celebration bullshit was inevitable, she didn't want him worrying all night. He might accidentally get distracted and kill one of the people at the retirement home or something. "It'll be fine, I just don't wanna."

She couldn't see him, of course, but she could piece together an image: it was a Thursday afternoon, so he was probably getting ready to start his shift at the diner. Which meant he was dressed in his uniform: an ugly yellow polo and pale-green apron over his usual shorts, with the camp bandanna tied around his neck. He liked to walk when the weather was nice, and since she could hear the sounds of traffic and voices in the background she assumed he was on his way there now, bopping along through his storybook town with his goofy bounding gait.

He was smiling, of course he was smiling. He was almost always smiling.

"Well, it is your birthday, so you can do whatever you want! But . . . I don't want you to be lonely." Some of the brightness dropped out of his voice. "I'm sorry I won't be there."

Gwen snorted. "That's fucking stupid. It's just a day. You visited like two weeks ago, and you didn't even have to do that. It's fine." It was as much a reminder to herself as to him, because as selfish and unreasonable as it was to be disappointed, she couldn't help but feel a small pang that the one person she really wanted to see wouldn't be around.

God, the one person you wanna see? Melodramatic much?

Besides, he'd gotten her a present, even though they hadn't been dating long enough to warrant it. Sure, she'd given him a dorky green plaid Snuggie for his birthday, but that was a joke more than a real gift, because it was December and fit the whole weird nature-hipster vibe he had going on. (Okay, so he'd teared up and as far as she knew wore it more than any reasonable person should, but that was just how David was; she could've gotten him a $1 keychain and he would've had the same reaction.) The highlighter-pink butterfly knife he'd given her in return, besides being the single most David gift she could imagine — because what the fuck was she supposed to do with a giant-ass knife in the middle of Brooklyn? Was it in case an impromptu camping trip broke out on the subway? — was way nicer than she deserved.

"I think you'll have a lot of fun, Gwen. You should think about it." And the way he said it was so sincere and eager that she knew she had to go, because she couldn't let him down.

"I'm not promising anything," she said with a groan, kicking herself free of the mass of rumpled sheets that buried her bed and stumbling over to the closet. "Christ, now I have to find something to wear." She started rummaging through her closet, putting her phone on speaker so she could hunt. "We're looking for something that says 'I'm hot enough to be tagged in Facebook photos' but also 'if you try to touch me I'll rip your face off and use it as a cocktail umbrella.'"

David laughed, and the sound was like a burst of sunlight. "Just make sure you're safe! You have that knife —"

"What d'you think I'm using to cut off their faces?" Gwen snagged one of her what seemed like thousands of variations on the little black dress (god, she had a lot of slutwear, didn't she? Amazing how half her closet had become irrelevant now that she'd had a steady boyfriend for more than 6 months), a high-waisted flared miniskirt and a lacy black crop top. Sleeveless, but it went up to her neck and there was only a thin strip of midriff to worry about, so while it was a little light for the weather, it wasn't like she'd be spending much time outside. "There we go. Nice and skanky." She snorted and rolled her eyes, setting it aside and diving back into the mess for shoes. "I better not have to buy a single drink tonight, because I'm gonna look awesome."

"You're always beautiful!" She didn't respond, focused on finding a pair of heels that wouldn't make her want to chop her feet off by the end of the night, and after a few moments he asked, "Um . . . if — if you don't mind . . ."

"Hmm?" Gwen leaned back, inclining her ear toward the phone. David's voice had dropped, and she could barely hear him inside the closet.

"Nothing! I was . . . just wondering . . ." He chuckled awkwardly, and she could practically see him fidgeting with his bandanna. The dork. "If, well, before you go out, if you wouldn't mind t-taking a picture . . . of you, uh, all dressed up?"

Her mind filled in the blanks easily; she'd had enough practice speaking David to be pretty good at translating. "You fucking perv," she said with a laugh, grinning at his despairing squeak.

"I didn't — ! I mean, you don't ha-ave to, it's fine. Never mind." He sounded ridiculously bashful, and the image of him leaning against a streetlight or wall, bright red and stammering, was so vivid she felt a squeeze of something like homesickness constrict her chest, so intense it made her eyes sting.

"It's . . . hey, no problem, David." She cleared her throat, shaking her head to clear it. "If there's one thing I do well, it's take a hot selfie."

"You do lots of things well!"

For some reason the words, and the cheerful confidence with which he said them, made her wince. Which was obviously fucking stupid; she should just be happy someone was dumb enough to think that highly of her. "Go to work, you loser. You'll get in trouble if you're late, and I've got shit to do." She didn't, but she didn't want to be on the phone anymore either.

"Oh. Um, okay, of course!" He sounded just the tiniest bit off, just a pitch or two below his normal levels of happy, and she felt like a jackass for bumming him out like that. Why did she always have to bring the mood down with her whining? "Have a nice evening!"

"Y- . . ." Gwen paused, squeezing her eyes shut for a second and swallowing hard. "Yeah. You too. Bye."

She let the phone drop to the floor and returned to her bed.

An hour in and Gwen was convinced she should've stayed in bed. Three hours in, she started to wonder if she'd ever see her bed again.

It was around midnight, as she was considering abandoning her roommates to their own devices, that she felt a hand on her hip. It was large and warm, and for half a second she leaned into it before remembering that David was 6 hours away. "Hey." She kept her voice neutral because it was hard to tell who was just a normal creep and who was a "it puts the lotion on its skin" kinda creep, but she firmly took the stranger's wrist and plucked his hand off of her. "I have a boyfriend, but thanks."

As soon as she'd dropped his arm, shoving it toward him like pushing a boat away from the dock at camp, there was another on her shoulder, turning her to face him. He was cute, she supposed, in a very "my dad's a Republican" way, which wasn't her type: big and broad, dressed in artfully-distressed jeans, boat shoes, and a lilac button-down that matched his hair — hair that actually reminded her a little of David's, but that was where the similarities ended. This stranger was tan and muscled, with well-cared-for, uncalloused hands and thick square nails that weren't bitten short and ragged. There was none of David's nervous fluttery energy; she had a feeling this guy would never appear at the breakfast table with his shirt on inside-out because he was just too excited about starting the day to check his clothes.

He also might be an octopus. Gwen couldn't get far enough away to get a good look at his arms, but every time she moved one off of her another appeared — on her waist, in her hair, at her elbow, dangerously close to her ass. It seemed like way too many hands for one person.

"Wanna dance?" he asked, steamrollering over her. "Your boyfriend won't mind you dancing, right? We'll just dance as friends." Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but his hand planted on the small of her back in what seemed like a very unfriendly way. "You can't say no to making a new friend, right?"

"Hey." The voice came from behind her, deep enough to rumble in her chest, and the next thing she knew there was yet another hand on her, pulling her against his side. "Thought I'd lost you, babe." The stranger pecked her on top of the head, a quick kiss and a squeeze around her shoulders, then turned to the lavender bro and said, "See ya around" before dragging her toward the bar.

She wriggled free of the heavy arm constricting her neck. "The fuck're you doing?"

He smirked, leaning against the bar and ordering with just the lift of two fingers. "Saving you from that guy." He shrugged, gesturing to the stool next to him. "Never done the fake-boyfriend thing before, but I figured you'd appreciate being rescued."

Gwen paused. On the one hand, she'd most certainly wanted to get away, and there was something strangely romantic about someone swooping in and pretending to be her boyfriend like that. On the other hand, she was now with another total stranger, one who was showing no signs of helping her get a ride home, or find her friends, or . . . well, anything she'd expect from someone truly interested in aiding a drunk woman in distress. Things, she realized with a pang, David would do in a heartbeat. "Listen, that was . . . uh, nice of you, but I —"

"Have a boyfriend. I heard," he replied, sounding bored. As two beers were set in front of him, he pushed one of them in her direction without looking over. "They're craft, local. Only shit worth drinking." He glanced at her sideways, a dismissive flick of his eyes before returning to the dance floor. "Everywhere else serves cheap manufactured shit thinking the sorority girls buying it on their daddy's credit card are too dumb or wasted to know the difference. No offense."

She bristled, taking the drink. It tasted exactly like every other mediocre beer she'd had in a club, but she tried to look vaguely impressed, like she knew what he was talking about. "I'm twenty-seven," she muttered into the bottle. "I'm not a sorority girl. Not dumb either," she added belatedly, wincing at her own painful lack of cool. Not that it mattered if some douchebag with a bad haircut and thick-rimmed glasses thought she was cool, but it was . . . kind of a habit at this point, to try and prove herself.

"Huh. You seemed like the type, with that whole —" He gestured at her vaguely, "hot bimbo look. Trying to recapture the glory days?"

"No. I was never into that kinda thing." And she didn't know why she felt compelled to keep talking, except that something about being underestimated by this guy felt strangely familiar, and it really, really bothered her. "My friends dragged me here."

"Some friends." He snorted. "But yeah, same. Roommate's bachelor party. I've been reading out of protest." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn paperback copy of Breakfast of Champions. "Vonnegut. Recommendation: read the book, don't watch the movie."

Swoon. There was a part of Gwen that was very susceptible to this, a guy reading in a bar, noticing she was in distress and sweeping her away, all condescending half-compliments and a weird inexplicable magnetism.

He was her type, definitely. And yet . . .

She glanced away, biting back a giggle. Because the first thing that entered her mind was David's voice, concerned and alarmed and unintentionally devastating: "He shouldn't read in a place like this! He'll strain his eyes!" And the image of David, walking up to this stranger and accidentally ruining his bad-boy-intellectual persona by offering the flashlight he always kept on his keyring . . . well, it was ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as trying to read in the middle of a club. "I wrote my thesis on American satire." (Okay, no she hadn't, but "I took a class on it once" didn't sound as good. And for whatever stupid reason, she wanted to sound good.) "So thanks, I'll take that under consideration."

Gwen wasn't sure if she'd said that to make him leave or prolong the conversation, so she didn't know how to feel when his eyebrows flicked up, impressed. "No kidding? Did you notice how the story's structure mirrors the emptiness of human existe —"

"Sure did," she grumbled, taking another sip of her syrupy beer and trying to figure out what she was still doing in this conversation. She wasn't enjoying herself, and wasn't that the entire fucking point of a birthday? "Listen, thanks for the beer and everything, but . . ."

"The boyfriend." He rolled his eyes, leaning against the bar with a dramatic sigh. "You know, you're really not my type. I haven't been flirting with you at all, in fact." He peered at her over his thick glasses, a shock of floppy black hair falling into his reddish eyes. "Maybe I'm not the one you keep reminding."

"I —" That wasn't fair, she'd only mentioned David once. And what kind of arrogant jerk assumed someone was into them mid-rejection? But something about his tone of voice, his indifferent confidence despite being completely wrong, was oddly attractive. Like she'd been here before.

Like she'd be here again.

He was familiar, that was the thing. Almost comforting, the way Camp Campbell was comforting in its predictable shittiness. It wasn't new, it wasn't scary. If she kept flirting with him she could more or less see where it'd go — plus or minus the random fluttering hope that this one would work out, that she could change him, that she could save him. That he could save her.

He leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, a move she'd considered romantic up until this second. But if he was bothered by the way she jerked away he didn't show it, taking a sip from his beer with a bored shrug. "Just seems like you wouldn't be here talking to me if you were happy." He glanced at her sideways. "Let me guess, he's really nice."

The way he said that, sneered it like it was something to be embarrassed about, made her skin prickle. "Fuck off," she snarled, pushing away from the bar finally.

"Knew it." And he was so smug, in a way she would've melted for this time last year but now made her seriously tempted to deck him. "Some friendly advice, not-sorority girl: consider finding someone you deserve." He set his drink down, cupped her cheek with one hand. "Why waste a nice guy's time?"

And like he'd choreographed it his mouth was on hers before she could respond, and first she was just shocked but then she felt sick because he was right, he was an unwashed prick too stupid to know it was a bad idea to try and read in a dimly-lit bar but he'd nailed her relationship to the detail. He was wrong about the conclusion — he wanted her to think she was too good for David but it was the opposite, David was too good for her.

And . . . now he knew it.

David had visited her home, he'd met her family and seen her life and gotten front-row seats to what a disaster she was, so much of a mess she couldn't even make people related to her love her, and he knew how much work she'd be — and all of that was two weeks ago but for those two weeks she'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, to pick up the phone and hear "maybe you shouldn't come back to camp this summer." Every time he had to work or call Julia or visit his mom it felt like an excuse to avoid her.

But that wasn't fair. If anything she was avoiding him: letting texts go unanswered, not picking up the phone immediately, looking for shifts when she knew he was free because if he couldn't talk to her he couldn't leave her. It was dumb, it was crazy and dumb and cruel but she was scared okay, guys like David scared her and guys who read in bars didn't. She wasn't afraid of guys who kissed her like they knew they were good at it, kissed her like they owned her instead of shaking from nerves or want or whatever it was that made David fall apart when she touched him. She wasn't afraid of guys who liked to watch her scramble to impress them because they were prepared to be disappointed, they looked forward to it because it proved them right, they didn't have expectations for her to fall short of they didn't put her on a pedestal they didn't have a look in their eyes, like she was special and beautiful and worthwhile, that she was so afraid to lose it kept her up at night. She didn't have to be afraid of guys who looked down on her because she knew what she was getting, and so did they: they expected an insecure defensive girl who sometimes cried for no reason and sometimes couldn't force herself out of bed, and so she didn't have to lie and pretend to keep it together, because if she did those things she wasn't letting them down, she was just doing what they expected and they'd respond the way she expected and nobody was unpleasantly surprised.

And if she was going to fail David, if eventually he'd just come to see what her parents did and her brothers did and Campbell did and everyone who'd ever dated her did . . . then what was the point in wasting his time?

"See what I mean?" he whispered, pulling back just far enough to move his lips. His breath smelled like beer with an undertone of cigarette smoke, acrid and familiar. One hand traced up her thigh, stopping at the hem of her skirt.

She smiled, because she did.

"Gwen?" Audree's voice was bleary, sleep-sluggish; of course it was, Gwen was on her doorstep at one in the morning and Audree worked insane hours, she was a professional, she didn't have time for stupid childish relationship bullshit.

But here she was, shivering in the unseasonably cold weather with her numb lips nearly kissing a small black intercom. Because she didn't have any close friends and her roommates were too drunk and her mom would never understand and David — she couldn't talk to David.

Like always, Gwen needed her big sister.

"I . . ." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain herself. "Audree, I . . ."

That was as far as she got before she started crying.

"Fuck, Gwennie, hold on." There was a shrill, unpleasant buzzing at her ear, and she'd barely pushed open the door to the apartment building when Audree burst into view, careening around the stairs and nearly knocking Gwen down. "Are you okay?" Audree asked, taking her by the shoulders and looking her up and down. Her jaw tightened; Gwen didn't know what she looked like, but after 45 minutes of sobbing in the back of an Uber it probably wasn't pretty. "What happened? Who —"

"S'fine," she choked out, pushing Audree away and wiping at her face. "No one — it was me, I . . ."

Audree led her up to the apartment, settling her down on the couch before taking a seat in the chair opposite, putting her chin in her hands and watching Gwen with a laser-focused intensity that would've been unnerving if she wasn't used to it. (Her sister's resting expression went beyond "bitch face" into "American Psycho face," which made her a great lawyer and a terrible comforter.) She didn't say anything, just waited with those searching teal eyes cataloging everything about her, like she was already preparing her testimony against whoever'd hurt her baby sister. "Yes, Your Honor, she arrived at exactly 1:15 am. She didn't seem to have any visible bruises but she was crying . . ."

"Nobody hurt me," she finally muttered, staring down at her stupid slutty shoes, shoes she'd only worn because she'd once bullied David into admitting he had a thing for red heels. All that effort for a stupid fucking picture. "I'm just . . . shitty." Audree made a soft encouraging sound, a quiet noncommittal hum, a "I minored in social work and want you to open up at your own pace" noise that worked on witnesses and it worked on her. "I, uh, kissed this guy. I mean, he kissed me but I kinda knew he would and he was a dick and I probably could've, like, stopped him but I didn't." Her fingers were shaking. Why were her fingers shaking? "He, he w-wanted to — I mean he didn't ask but I could tell he was gonna and I was scared of what I'd say because what if I said yes? And I freaked out and left and I di- hhhidn't know where to go so I came here." She winced, realizing how selfish that was. "Sorry to wake you up."

For a minute Audree was quiet. "So do you like this guy or . . ."

Gwen made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a sob. "What? No."

"So you feel guilty because you didn't successfully fend off a creep before he assaulted you?" Almost immediately she added, "Fuck, sorry Gwennie, I promise I'm not lawyering you, I'm just a cunt sometimes. I didn't mean it like that, lemme try again." She took an exaggerated deep breath. "You were talking to a guy, and you think he was hitting on you and you . . . flirted back?"

"Not really." Sure, it was sometimes hard to tell where the line between "go fuck yourself tee hee" and "go fuck yourself before I stab you in the eye with this straw" was, but she had trouble imagining how (outside a bad romance novel) she could've been flirting. "I told him I had a boyfriend. But he said — he said I shouldn't be with a guy like David!"

"Riiiiiight, but this guy was an asshole. And he was wrong about you wanting him to kiss you."

"Well . . ." Audree was mostly right. What Gwen wanted was to be in David's ridiculously grandmotherly apartment, curled up under the bright pink blanket he'd knitted in high school and listening to him try to teach her Pokémon. Yet that didn't explain the strange attraction she'd had to the arrogant creep, the familiarity.

She hadn't wanted that stranger to kiss her, not exactly. But something about it had felt right.

"Listen, Gwen, there's nothing wrong with wanting to kiss someone, because, y'know, you're not dead." She leaned forward, fixing her with that iron stare that was half "trust me, I'm your sister and I love you" and half "eagle watching a mouse." (Great lawyer. Terrible comforter.) "Hell, there's nothing wrong with flirting either. What I don't get is why some douchebag's opinion matters so much."

Neither did she, exactly. "He reminded me of . . ." Well jeez, she could start listing names but they'd be there all night, "of some of the guys I've dated."

Audree quirked one eyebrow. "Even more reason not to listen to him."

"I know, but —" Audree's apartment was warm, she could afford real heat. It was warm and comforting and she was safe, so why were her fingers still shaking? "He was my type."

She pressed her lips together. "You know what I think about your type, Gwennie." This was a conversation they'd had a few (hundred) times before. "You deserve better."

"Why?"

And there it was. Like something in her chest had snapped, words came spilling out in a rush. "I'm not a good person, Dree. I don't have anything going for me, so in what fucking universe do I deserve better? And okay, maybe I could find a nice guy, but not David. He . . . he deserves someone sweet and pretty and h-happy and not . . ."

Broken.

It sounded so melodramatic, but she was. Because whole people weren't paralyzed by their own self-loathing, they didn't try ruin things before they could even get started, they didn't kiss smoke-flavored strangers in bars because they loved their boyfriend too much and were terrified of that.

"He loves kids, and I don't. We don't — don't have anything in common, and sometimes . . . I don't know what we have going for us except, y'know, stuff he doesn't have to get from me."

Audree wrinkled her nose. "Not an image I needed, sis." She grimaced and said, "Fuck, I'm being an asshole again, sorry," moving so she was sitting on the couch next to her and pulling her into an awkward half-hug. (None of the Santos clan were very good at hugging, something Gwen hadn't really noticed until she'd gotten used to David's.) "You don't think you're right for him?"

Gwen didn't think she was right, period. "I just think he . . . if he knew better, he wouldn't waste his time on me."

"Isn't that kinda his decision?"

She shrugged, leaning her head into the soft black cloud of Audree's hair. "But he's new to all this. Isn't my terrible dating experience good for something?"

"Yes," Audree said firmly. "It means you know what not to do. You know how people can make each other feel like shit, and you can do the opposite."

Gwen made a face. "I'm not . . . good at that kinda thing. The being-nice thing."

"Look who you're fucking talking to. But don't you wanna try?" She pulled back, her expression expectant and pitying. "It seems like you think he deserves that."

She couldn't meet her sister's eyes, so she picked at the carpet's upholstery. "You sound like David's mom. She's all smart and has her shit together too."

"Oh?" Audree's eyes lit up, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Single mother, right? Bit of a cougar?"

Gwen picked up a pillow and hit her with a snort of disgust. "No, you don't get to hit on his mom! I mean, you're probably never gonna meet her, because shit'll go wrong way before then, but still. Leave her alone."

"Oh, Gwen." Her smile softened, and she snuggled closer to slip an arm around Gwen's shoulders. "Someday you're gonna believe you deserve the good things that happen to you. And I'm gonna be there to say I told you so."

She laughed, the sound weak and hollow even to her. "Well now it has to happen, because you're never wrong." She sighed, adjusting Audree's arm so it was less stiff and uncomfortable. "He should be with someone like you," she muttered finally. "Someone hotter and without all the, like, bitterness and failure."

"Nuh-uh. David's cute, but have you seen women?" Gwen tried to smile, but she was exhausted all of a sudden. "You need to talk to him, y'know, about all this shit. Because I mean, I don't know the guy, but he didn't look like he has a fucking clue you're thinking any of this."

Audree was probably right. She usually was. But the last thing Gwen wanted to do was explain to David in painstaking detail all the reasons he deserved so much better than her, especially when he was probably already beginning to put the pieces together himself. (How could he not, after seeing how she lived?) "Yeah, probably."

"That's the best I'm getting, huh?" Audree ruffled her hair and climbed to her feet, stretching. "It's way too late for you to go home. Your room's waiting for you."

"It's not my room," Gwen grumbled, following Audree into the guest room and accepting the pajamas her sister found for her.

She grinned. "It could be." When Gwen didn't respond, she frowned and leaned against the wall. "Come on, at least think about moving in."

"I told you, I can't afford this. I couldn't even pay a quarter of the rent, so I dunno why you're even bothering." She did, of course; her sister was a good person, and she worried.

"I pay full rent on this place anyway, I don't need you chipping in anything. And it's not charity," she added as Gwen opened her mouth, "I wanna live with you."

She knew better than to ask why (no one needed a middle-of-the-night lecture on self-esteem), but they both knew she was thinking it. "I have Platypus, though."

"I love that little fucker, so don't even try to use him against me." Giving up, she pecked Gwen on the temple. "Fine, go to sleep. Just . . . I want you to move in because I like spending time with you. I think David does, too. It's okay if you're all you have to offer, all right? It's good enough."

Gwen was going to make fun of her, ask her what stupid self-help book she'd found that in. But her throat was a little tight, so she just nodded. "Thanks, Dree. Night."

"Night, Gwennie. It's gonna be fine, okay?"

She wanted to believe that.

[huxsharem-blog]

Synergy

Chapter 2 - Visions Warning: none

Walking through the maze they call hallways, you reluctantly follow Kylo Ren and the ginger that has yet to introduce himself. Maybe you’re supposed to already know who they are since they’re the big, bad, and scary. Heck, even you, someone who has actively stayed as far away from politics as possible has heard whispers about the infamous Kylo Ren; and more specifically, the shit he’s pulled. Or rather, allegedly pulled. You’re sure what you’ve heard is true – the deep fear in the eyes of those who whisper is enough to make you believe – but you thought you’d give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt. I mean, he’s taken your family, possibly killed them, and now he has you in an unknown location, he deserved the benefit of the doubt, right?

Hell no!

As you walk through the hangar bay to what seem like living quarters, you made a mental note of your footsteps. Each hallway lacks something that makes it unique; it lacks an identification sign. Well, it has the room numbers, but that’s hardly a map to the nearest exit.

The passing soldiers in white armour – you’re still unsure of their species – have the common courtesy to salute. That’s how you know you’re in the presence of the top dogs. That, and they obviously know their place, and their respect towards their superiors never wavers. They’re clearly well trained, unlike your very gothic hosts.

At that, your helmeted host’s head turns so fast you wonder if he has whiplash. Standing in front of you, he stares you down. The uncomfortable silence feels; well, uncomfortable; that, along with his large form towering over you makes him very intimidating. “Ren.” The ginger barked.

Kylo’s stare lingers a few seconds longer. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your skin. Without a word, Kylo turns and walk away, his black drapes whooshing around him.

The ginger points in Kylo’s direction, a silent order for you to walk ahead of him. You hesitantly follow orders, giving him a wicked side eye as you pass him. Is he above Ren?

Stopping in front of a room – room number 2501 – you watch as Kylo Ren opens the door and walks into the room. Clearly the ‘ladies first’ rule, or any gentlemanly behaviour isn’t enforced here.

Walking inside after Kylo, you take in the room. You were right, they are living quarters; and very minimal ones at that. There’s a bed, a bathroom, a wardrobe, and a set of drawers. The room itself isn’t very spacious. It does, however, match the colour scheme of the hallways; black and silver. You taking in the black tiled floor, they must be cold to walk on in bare feet. In fact, that’s the general vibe that the entire place gives you; cold. It’s not a happy environment, very military. Coming from a very happy and loving home, you’re not sure you could really thrive here.

“Stay here until I collect you for training.” Kylo says, his metallically altered voice sending a chill down your spine. Well, it was either that, or the glacial temperature of this room.

Your eyes follow Kylo as he promptly leaves the room leaving behind an awkward silence between you and a stranger. Well, he’s a man of few words, isn’t he? In fact, they both are.

There’s a knock on the door causing you to jump. The ginger answers, grabbing the pile of clothes off the officer and closing the door. “A meal will be brought to you shortly,” he says, handing you the pile of clothes, “in the meantime, I suggest you shower and change.” You nod, unsure of how to respond. He turns towards the door, you watch as the door slides open. “It would be wise to follow orders, Ren has quite the temper.” He says before fully leaving.

As the door closed behind him, you felt the walls closing in. You’ve never been claustrophobic, but then again, you’ve never been held against your will. Feeling yourself starting to hyperventilate, you take a series of deep breaths; in through your nose, out through your mouth. In. Out. In. Out. Trying to make yourself relax, you lie on the bed, closing your eyes. It’s times like these that you think taking up meditation would be useful. If only you had time for that.

Lying back, you think of your family. Thinking about never seeing them again sends a sharp pain through your chest, and fills you with the determination to seek revenge. You’ve got yourself in quite the mess. Thinking about it, the entire situation seems very... planned. That wrinkly looking guy has a plan for you, Kylo knew exactly where to find you, and that ginger guy knows about you too. It seems a little too specific to be a spontaneous kidnapping. Did he come for you on purpose or are you just over thinking things? You can’t shake this bad feeling. It’s not the kind of bad feeling that leaves you feeling anxious or uneasy. The negative energy in this place surrounds you, it almost consumes you. You need to leave.

Assuming the door has a motion sensor, you walk towards it, exaggerating your movements a little – by a little, you mean flapping your arms around and doing straight up jumping jacks whilst moving towards the door.

Nada.

You don’t understand, how are you supposed to leave? You’re not naive enough to believe that they don’t have some type of security to keep you on lockdown, but generally speaking, how would you leave? You don’t see a keypad on this side of the door. Even if the door was locked, it should still open from the inside, that’s generally how things worked, right?

Giving up on that idea, you rub the balls of your hands into your eyes; there has to be another way out. Looking around the tiny room, you don’t see anything useful. You do, however, spot a window. You could always climb out of it. Looking out of the small, circular window, your jaw drops, scrapping that escape plan.

You’re in space.

Your heart drops. Every escape route that almost formed in your mind disintegrates. To escape you’d have to fly; to do that you need a pilot. You’re willing to bet that no pilot on this ship would help you out purely from the goodness in their hearts.

As much as you’re aware you can’t really go anywhere, you have to at least try.

You figure that, because you’re floating around in space, there must be an oxygen tank or something on the base somewhere – you know, because it’s essential to keeping everyone onboard alive. On your mini tour, you didn’t notice any random oxygen tanks lying around anywhere; therefore, it must be travelling around the base somehow. Then it hit you.

The vents.

Looking around the bedroom walls – even under the bed – you don’t notice any vents. You quickly check the bathroom. You don’t notice any in there either.

Your mind goes blank. Surely they wouldn’t leave you in a room without proper ventilation?

Sighing, you drop on the bed like a sad sack of potatoes. Staring at the ceiling, you mentally curse those dick bags for locking you in the room. Seriously, you’re floating around in space, how are you supposed to escape? The door won’t open, you can’t find any vents, there is actually nothing you can do.

There’s nothing you can do.

Letting that sink in, you think about your parents, they certainly wouldn’t be happy with you giving in so easily. If they were watching you right now they’d probably be shouting at you, telling you that the solution is right in front of your face and –

Holy shit.

The answer is right in front of you.

Your eyes widen at your discovery. The vents are in the ceiling. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice before, what, with it being the only textured surface in the room.

You stand on the bed, stretching your arms up in a futile attempt to reach the ceiling. In hind sight, you should have known you wouldn’t be able to reach given your height. You needed something bigger to stand on. Looking around the room, your eyes lock onto a chest of drawers.

Wobbling as you stand on the drawers, you jump and grab onto the steel crate grille. Taking a deep breath, you muster all of your energy and lift your legs up, attempting to kick one of the grilles out of place. It takes a couple of tries, but you get there eventually. What can you say? You haven’t worked out in a hot minute.

You slowly climb across the ceiling as if it were a set of monkey bars. Eventually reaching the hole, you climb up into the vent. Oh, sweet victory. Lying flat on your back – as uncomfortable as it is – you relax. Take a beat. Catch your breath. Who are you kidding, you’re exhausted. You’re trying not to judge yourself, after all, that is the most exercise you’ve done in a while.

Once you’re out of danger of going into cardiac arrest, you turn over onto your stomach. Crawling through the vent, you almost wish you put on some extra layers, it’s fucking freezing. Not only that, but it’s a tight squeeze, but you commando crawl your way through nonetheless.

On your venture, you waste time by spying on people through the little holes. Luckily for you, you were able to avoid the crate grilles by taking a different route. You have no idea where you are, but based on the Stormtroopers you can see marching past, you’re crawling around above a hallway. Since the hallway’s now empty, it begs the question: should you stay in the vent, or risk it in the hallway?

You’re easily concealed in the vent, but it’s a lot harder to navigate where you’re going.

You’re out in the open in the hallways, but it’ll be easier to navigate where you’re going.

You’re caught at a crossroad.

Removing the grille, you jump down into the hallway. You may as well live life a little dangerously. Besides, wouldn’t it be easier to get down whilst no one else is around, as opposed to in a room full of people? You’d easily get caught.

You land with a louder thump than you thought you would, hopefully no one was around to hear it. Looking in both directions, you decide it would be best to go right since the ‘troopers came from that direction. Judging by the distant sound of drilling and engines, you’ll be heading in the right direction.

You try to walk as casually as you can whilst also making your footsteps as quiet as possible. As it turns out, being quiet whilst walking on a metal floor is a lot harder than it looks. Just as you were beginning to look like a goofy cartoon character with an exaggerated tip-toed walk, you decided to throw caution to the wind and leg it down the hallway. This is fun. There’s a nice adrenaline rush that comes with trying to escape, and honestly, you love it. That was until you fell on your arse for running into a human sized wall.

Looking up from your cold spot on the floor, you make awkward eye contact with the ginger, human shaped wall that knocked you down. Standing up, you smile, ignoring the literal pain in your arse. It’s a wonder how you didn’t knock him over too, he’s not that big. Yes, he’s taller than you, but he looks to be on the slimmer side. Panicking, you give the grumpy ginger a harsh push backwards before absolutely belting it down the hallway.

Rounding a corner, you hear the ginger ordering the Stormtroopers to retrieve you. The sound of multiple fast paced footsteps banging on the metal panels does nothing for your sense of hope. If they catch you – and they will – you’re outnumbered; you don’t stand a chance in a fight against them. You have to be smart, don’t do that dumb shit people always do and look behind you.

But now that you’ve thought about it, you really want to look. Just because it happens in movies doesn’t mean it will happen to you.

Risking a glance behind you, they’re not that far away; you can easily outrun them.

Making it into the hangar, you feel the stars align. Sweet mother of all that is holy, something is on your side for once. Running inside, you try and dodge the Stormtroopers behind various metal boxes. Seeing as though the hangar is full of people, you think it would be pretty hard to see you. Still, you keep behind the larger objects, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

Making it to the opposite end of the hangar, you stare at the TIE fighters; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to fly one of those. Heck, you’re not even sure how to get into one of those. Maybe there’s a button you’re supposed to press somewhere? Walking underneath the fighter, you inspect the underside; surely there are some instructions or something somewhere.

Two set of hands grab you on either side, pushing you back against the cold, metal wall. Struggling against the ‘troopers, you thrash your arms, kicking them; you can’t seem to get away. That is until a certain ginger stands in front of you. He looks disappointed. You can’t say you blame him; you managed to beat hit lock, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Inability to follow orders, Ren won’t like that.” He says, staring you down.

“Kidnaps me and holds me captive in the middle of space, I don’t like that.” You mock. Pushing your torso out, challenging him.

He steps closer to you; he’s so close you could kick him. In fact... you extend your leg, attempting to kick him between his legs. You realise it’s a dick move, but he deserves it.

Unfortunately, before your knee made contact with his junk, he caught your leg, pushing it back down. Pushing you back against the wall, his hand rests around your neck. “Lacks respect,” he notes.

“Lacks common decency.” You spit. “Besides, why would I respect you?”

“Whether you like it or not, you are to remain here indefinitely. I am your superior, you will show me some respect.”

You don’t know this ginger fellow, but you get the feeling that he wants power.

“Respect is earned.” You say; your words filled with venom, “all you and your little helmeted buddy have done is hurt me and keep me captive. That is not the right way to get my respect.”

“You’re on my ship, you’re under my command, you’re-”

“Aren’t I technically under Kylo Ren’s command? I mean, he is the more powerful of the two of you, it would make sense.” You’re very aware that playing this game could get you in trouble, but that won’t stop you from pouring salt in the wound.

He stands back, assessing you. You have to admit, that’s not the response you were expecting, you wanted him to lose his cool. He sighs before telling the Stormtroopers to take you to the cell. You gulp, not liking this ominous sounding cell.

Kicking your legs and violently moving your legs, you do everything you possibly can to try and get out of their hold. Maybe you could kick them too? Going along with your thoughts, you try and angle your legs in a way where you could effectively kick the soldiers in their private parts.

Raising your legs with gusto, your knee makes contact with the plate covering this guy’s delicate area. You grunt, the sharp pain spreading through your knee. The armour mustn’t be that good because the poor guy legs go of you, cupping his manhood. You repeat this on the other soldier before running away.

Your second attempt at running away was short-lived. You were just about to run into the corridor when a set of arms grabbed you from behind, holding you still as they shoved something sharp into your neck, rending you unconscious.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Jolting awake, you take in your surroundings. Sitting up, you look around the room, taking in the two Stormtroopers standing inside the room. Rubbing your sore neck – something you’ve never experienced with other injections before, you take in the room. You’re not sure what this room would be used for. It’s literally a giant cage inside a room. You assumed that when you were ordered into the cell, you’d be in a jail cell with multiple other people that have annoyed the moody ginger in some way, but that’s not the case.

“Inform the General, she’s awake.” one of the Stormtroopers said.

Is it possible that the moody ginger is the General? Makes sense, all that nonsense about being in command and having some authority over you. Oh jeez, that stuff about Kylo Ren having more power than him must have really pissed him off.

Lying back down on your hard, cold, metal bed, you stare at the ceiling through the metal bars. You’re not sure how long you were staring in silence, but at some point the ging- the General made his way into the room. He stood his sourpuss almost against a wall outside the cage. The way he was looking at you, you felt like a caged animal in a zoo, almost like he was waiting for you to do something entertaining.

“You’ve yet to formally introduce yourself, you know.” You say, facing him on your side.

“I’m General Hux, you are aboard the Finalizer, a Resurgent-class Battlecruiser.” He looked as if he was about to say something else but then decided against it.

You nod, sitting up, placing your elbows on your knees. “Why am I here?” you ask after a minute of silence.

“I believe it would be more appropriate to ask Commander Ren, he’s the one you are to train under.” His tone suggests authority.

You audibly gasp, “so you’re not the boss of me?” you say cheekily, cocking your head to the side, “guess I don’t have to listen to you.”

“For someone who claims to be upset about the disappearance of their family, you’re surprisingly calm. Not even 2 hours ago you were dreaming of killing Ren because he took them away from you, yet here you are acting as if nothing happened, almost as if you don’t care.” He says, slowly walking closer to you.

As soon as the words left his mouth you were ready to punch him. He cannot dictate what you do and don’t feel. Sure, you should be a lot angrier about your family’s situation, but you know they’re probably not dead. “They’re alive. They’re being used as bargaining chips so I’ll do what you want. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re going to use them against me. I see no point in worrying over them now.” It feels awful to say out loud. You suppose it would be different if they were being held in front of you, but they’re not.

“What if they are? Ever thought the reason as to why you’re being held in here is because your family are being held in the other cells? You would have escaped and left them behind.” His demeaning tone irks you. You want a civilised conversation with him and he’s talking down to you.

Your heart does flips. Your family are here?

Beyond the metal bars, the General smirks, no doubt a reaction to your hopeful expression. You feel awful. You could have stayed and found out where they were, instead you tried to leave. Covering your face with your hands, you try to calm your rising emotions.

“I would have left and then found another way to get them. You could be lying.” You feel the need to defend yourself against him. You feel like you need to show some kind of emotion to prove him wrong.

“In any case, this is your last chance, there will be no more escape attempts after this.” He warns, standing right in front of the cage now.

Wanting to show defiance in some way, you walk – more like a brisk jog – up to Hux, grabbing his hand, you pull his glove of before retreating deeper into the cage. “Nice glove,” you comment, holding it up in front of you.

“Hand it to me, (L/N), I won’t ask twice.” His voice is deeper this time, almost dangerous. You’re not scared though, you know he can’t really do anything to you.

Holding the item in both hands, you play with the fingers. “If I do, will you let me see my family?”

He looks at you, considering. “You’ll have to do a lot more than return my glove.”

You frown; of course you’ll have to do more. It wouldn’t surprise you if it wasn’t cheap. “Dude,” you say, holding your hand up, “if you want that kind of payment you’ll have to go to a brothel or something, I’m not your girl when it comes to that kind of thing, man.” You joke. It’s not the time to joke, but you wanted to lighten the mood a little.

Hux looks off to the side, most likely thinking of how to respond. You eyes latch onto his cheeks, you’re not sure whether you’re imagining the slight pink hue that has risen there. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he turns to you, “That... that is not the payment I was referring to. You are to work hard, that is how you’ll see your family.” He tone shifted into a very... ‘General tone’ almost as if he was talking to one of the ‘troopers. You take this as a victory, you’ve possibly made the man slightly blush; at least you know what to do now.

Taking his words to heart, you give him back his glove. When his naked hand skimmed yours, a whirlwind unwanted images attack your mind.

Looking past the main stage, between the series of TIE fighters, hundreds, maybe even thousands of Stormtroopers stand at attention.

Hux, standing there, above the low ranks, he delivers a speech. The words aren’t clear but the fire in his eyes can’t be good.

Turning back to the ‘troopers, something red shoots out of the ground so forceful it knocks the leaves of the trees. The entire planet started swirling around you; people disappeared until all that was left was darkness.

The overhead lights came on, you’re in someone’s quarters, judging by the size, it’s not yours. Turning around to inspect the room some more, you see yourself. It’s not like a reflection or anything; you’re literally seeing yourself in third person. You watch as Hux taps the other you on your shoulder. Without so much as a how-do-you-do, he kisses you.

Gasping, you stumble back. You observe Hux with wide eyes. What the Hell was that?! Why were you seeing yourself locking lips with him? How did that even happen?

“Force vision,” a metallic voice interjects, effectively bringing you out of your inner confusion. Looking towards the sound, you see none other than Kylo Ren standing in the doorway. “A Force vision shows you what could potentially happen in the future.” Your eyes dart between Kylo and the General. There’s a possibility that at some point in the future you’ll be making out with him?! You think not.

“Possibility... that means it might not happen, right?” you ask.

“Yes.” Kylo replies.

Thank fuck for that.

You eye Hux suspiciously. What has he got planned? That red beam certainly didn’t look innocent. At least now you know of its existence you could try and stop it. Come to think of it, that’s most likely why your vision might not happen, you can control what happens in the future. Well, some things are bigger than you, but you’re more aware of them now.

“Come, we must train.” Kylo says, using the Force to open the cage.