#can we at least remove the dining room puzzle. it's so pointless other than some funni moments-

[oh-meow-swirls]

apelican is one of the funniest yo-kai to me. america literally doesn't exist in yo-kai watch, even in the japanese version bbq isn't america it's specifically called usa. his name makes no sense-

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 7 Empress

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: I've been nervous about posting this chapter for the last few weeks! Let me know what you think :)

Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar of the Supremacy was like stepping into another world. The room was full of lights and people, all well-dressed and haughty, somehow looking both effortlessly glamorous and extraordinarily ruthless as they made their way to the party’s entrance. You and Hux stood on the loading dock of your ship towards the back of the hangar, waiting for a moment to enter the throng. The room was impossibly large and still seemed packed wall-to-wall with bodies, and your pulse hammered through your veins, your heart beating erratically at the walls of your ribcage. You felt ill suddenly at the sight of it, light-headed, and for a moment you worried that you might faint in front of everyone. You were briefly distracted from your terror, though, as the general moved his hand to yours, releasing your death grip on his arm, and grabbing you gently by the shoulders, turning you to face him.

“You’re alright,” he said, his tone calm and his voice soft. His thumb rubbed slow circles on your right shoulder, and you were close enough that you could feel his breath brush against your cheeks.

“You can do this,” he continued, “and I’ll be right here.”

“What if I say the wrong thing? Or forget protocol?” you whispered, too quiet for the noisy room, ‘What if they don’t like me?”

“Lieutenant,” Hux said with an earnest intensity, so different from the reserved demeanor you were used to, “you deserve to be here. You’re a damn fine soldier. You’ve earned your place one hundred times over, and none of these people can take that away from you.” You had never heard him speak to you like this before, so candid, had never felt the bare skin of his hands on your shoulders, and the combination almost made you as light-headed as the crowd did. Renewed and a little dumbfounded by his praise, you took in one last shuddering breath and then straightened your posture, determined. Hux removed his hands from your shoulders, and you missed the pressure almost immediately. He offered you his arm once again and you took it, the two of you making your way into the churning crowd.

Apparently your nerves had been unwarranted, because as soon as you stepped into the smaller and cozier social area set aside for the women, someone sitting at one of the low tables with a few others waved you over. You walked over tentatively, taking the last open seat at their table, and accepting another glass of champagne from a nearby waiter. Each of the women at the table was varied and distinct in their appearance, but all of them were breathtakingly gorgeous.

“You’re new here,” the first woman stated. She was older than you, you could tell, but whether it was ten or twenty or thirty years you couldn’t be exactly sure. She had high cheekbones and dark skin, luminous, golden even in the muted light. Her hair was long and straight and black, streaked with silver, parted down the middle and flowing gently over her shoulders, and her gaze was intense, but kind. The other two women were equally stunning: one a fresh-faced girl with pale skin and shockingly red hair, and the other a woman about your age with a head full of wild curls and stunning green eyes, lined in black.

“It’s so nice to see a new face around here; there’s rarely any variety in the guest list anymore and I’m so bored with all these other women,” the red-haired girl spoke emphatically, reaching across the table to hold your hands in hers, “Tell us, what’s your name?”

You introduced yourself, and then shook hands with each of them as they shared their names in turn.

“What brings you to the gala, dear girl?” Nyaketh, the older woman, asked.

“I’m a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer, working under the direction of Captain Phasma and General Hux.”

“You’re here with General Hux?” asked the red-head, Laria, with a mischievous grin on her face, “he’s very handsome.” She and the other girl, Raybri, fell into a fit of giggles, and a blush rose to your cheeks.

“He’s my commanding officer,” you said, hoping that they couldn’t see the redness in your face. You did think the general was handsome, but you didn’t want anyone to know that. Your thoughts drifted back to the moment on the loading dock, his hands so steady as he held you, and then on the ship, before you landed. The look he had in his eyes, you could have sworn . . .

“The general is quite popular at these events,” Nyaketh commented, a knowing smile on her face.

“My father wants me to pursue him,” Raybri said, “because he thinks the general’s approval will gain him back the respect of the Directorate.”

“Well my father thinks that a match with the general would bring more of the First Order’s business to our ship-breaking facilities,” said Laria, in response, before the two broke into tittered laughter again.

“I had no idea that General Hux was so . . . admired,” you said, wishing for the conversation to be over. You should have realized that many people would be vying for the general’s attention, especially at an event like this, but for some reason you had not considered it. Thinking about it now put a peculiar feeling in your stomach, for reasons you could not quite understand.

“Don’t worry, darling,” said Nyaketh as she put a reassuring hand over yours, “the general is a loyal man; I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” You paused, unable to respond as you puzzled over her words. She looked into your eyes pointedly, and her meaning suddenly hit you.

“The general and I aren’t together,” you said, blanching at the suggestion. Did they also think you were pursuing the general to increase your status, like Allecull had suggested? Did General Hux feel the same way? You could feel the palms of your hands grow warm and clammy at the thought, but his voice broke through, diminishing your worries, a damn fine soldier.

“Well, that might change soon,” Raybri responded, her words interrupting your train of thought, as she leaned in with a conspiratorial wink, “now that he’s seen you in that dress.” You tried to defend yourself, tried to defend the general, but no words came out. Before you could form a proper sentence, the other three stood from the table, walking to the far side of the room. It was time for the women to make their entrance. You rose to follow, their remarks about you and Hux still floating around in your head.

General Hux stood on the edge of the spacious ballroom, a strange mixture of boredom and anticipation sitting in his chest. After leaving you in the hallway, he had suffered through the drinking and socializing and the Officer’s Entrance, and was now waiting for the moment when you would appear again.

“Armitage,” called a man a little ways away, standing in a group with a few others, “don’t be so unsociable, come join us!” Hux fought the urge to roll his eyes, but walked over anyways, joining the other men. He had known Vice-Admiral Cordo Beck since the Academy, and had hated him for as long as he could remember.

“Evening, Beck,” the general said begrudgingly, as Beck thumped his back in greeting—an annoying display of dominance. Hux shook hands with the other men in the group, but the gesture was mostly pointless, he already knew all of them by name.

“Where’s your shiny, metal friend?” Beck asked, a hum of laughter on his lips. A few others chuckled in response, and Hux took a deep breath, trying to find some patience.

“The captain couldn’t attend this evening.”

“Here all by yourself? Who will keep all those starving girls away from you now?” Beck spoke humorously, but Hux noticed the bite of jealousy in his words. It would have been satisfying, if he had any interest in any the women there. Or at least, any of the women besides you. The other men in the group laughed lewdly, and Hux’s jaw tightened as he attempted to hold his tongue. It didn’t work.

“Actually, I’m not here alone. A lieutenant from the Finalizer will be joining me this evening.” He relished the look of shock on the other mens’ faces, trying to ignore the guilt pressing at the back of his mind. Insinuating that you were his companion for the event could complicate things, but when an opportunity to make Beck look like an idiot came up, it was hard to resist.

“A date? Really, general! You’re full of surprises,” Beck examined the general deftly as he spoke, and then, since he was unable to go more than thirty seconds without being an absolute bastard, said, “Let’s all hope that she’s a step up from the captain.” The men laughed again at Phasma’s expense, and this time Hux forced himself to take a drink to avoid saying anything reckless.

“Stars, look at the time, we better get our places; the meat market is starting,” Beck said then, slapping the general on the back again. The men began to make their way to the base of the stairs from which all of the women in attendance would enter. Finally. Hux resented the term used by the other officers when referring to what was officially known as the Grand Entrance, but his excitement to see you again momentarily overpowered his disdain. The men crowded around the stairs, and Hux tried to find a place to stand away from Beck, but the wretched man wormed his way next to the general as the event started.

With each name announced, Hux grew more nervous, anticipating the moment when you would appear, and all the possibilities that the night still held. Drinking, dining, dancing, and, in his most undisciplined imaginations, a quiet corridor away from the party, one hand at the base of your neck, the other at your hip, pressing you against a wall, your lips at his ear—his neck. Something illicit for the two of you two share before returning to the structure and expectations of the Finalizer.

The procession began, and the female officers were announced first, by order of rank, but there were not many in attendance. All of them were familiar faces, and they made their way into the crowd, some finding companions waiting for them at the base of the stairs and others unaccompanied. Yours was the 7th name announced, and hearing it, Hux held his breath. A few others in the crowd paused their murmured conversations as well, curious at the sound of an unfamiliar name, and the chance to meet a new guest.

“Let’s see this mystery date, then, General,” Hux heard Beck say as they stated your rank and position, but he brushed it off, too eager to risk missing your entrance. And when you appeared at the top of the stairs, the world stopped.

Hux couldn’t believe it, but despite the effort he had put into memorizing every detail of your appearance, he had somehow forgotten exactly how stunning you were. The stars that adorned your hair looked like a crown made from the night sky itself, and your dress caught the light as you stood at the top of the steps. Hux found no self-doubt in your expression now, and instead you surveyed the guests below as if you had been the one they all were waiting for, regal in every sense of the word. You looked like a queen, Hux thought to himself, still breathless at the sight of you, like an empress.

“Stars, Armitage,” Beck whispered beside him, “where in the galaxy did you find her?” Hux didn’t respond, only made his way to the front of the crowd, and held out his hand as you took the last few steps. You smiled when you saw him, a genuine smile, and Hux felt himself grinning in response, although he tried to restrain himself. At the bottom of the stairs, you bowed to the members of the Directorate in attendance, and then you and the general took your place in the crowd.

After the Grand Entrance finished, you and General Hux found yourselves bombarded with enthusiastic attention from many of the guests, eager to meet you. You were charming in your introductions: humble, kind, funny, and Hux felt a swell of pride in his chest having you by his side. The dinner was more of the same, and he could see it in the faces of the other officers—everyone was enamored with you.

When the dancing began, Hux begrudgingly listened as many men asked him for permission to accompany you on the dance floor. He agreed of course, against his own will and better judgement. You moved beautifully, there was no denying it, but Hux could not ignore the hot flashes of anger at watching those fools put their hands on you, pushing you around the ball room with little grace or skill.

Another dance ended, and you found him once again on the edge of the room, where he was dutifully ignoring the small group of women inching closer, hoping to catch his eye. Your face was flushed from all the excitement, or all the wine, and your smile was lively as you joined him at his side.

“You’re not dancing,” you said to him as the conductor announced another song, gently nudging him with your elbow. Hux had not bothered to ask anyone to dance, and was instead trying to gain the courage to ask you, but so far he had been unsuccessful, overcome with nerves at the thought of it. Still, there was no time like the present, as the night was close to its end, the ballroom slowly emptying as the guests took their leave. Hux opened his mouth, about to extend the invitation, when the two of you were interrupted.

“Excuse me, General, but I was hoping that your lovely companion here would favor me with a dance,” Vice Admiral Beck addressed the general, but leered at you as he spoke, expectantly. Hux’s initial reaction was to tell Beck to go fuck himself, but before he could, you spoke instead.

“I’m terribly sorry, Admiral Beck, but the general just asked me to dance,” you said to Hux’s surprise, taking him by the hand and leading him onto the dance floor. Hux followed you clumsily, shocked by this turn of events, but still managed to turn back and see the incredibly satisfying look of frustration on Beck’s face.

You took your places on the dance floor with the other couples, and Hux tried to stop his hands from shaking as he reached for your waist. The music started, and he relied on instinct as the two of you moved, completely forgetting the steps he had once known so well.

“What an odious man,” you said, your eyes on Cordo Beck as you twirled around the space.

“You know him?” Hux did not expect you to be familiar with someone like the vice-admiral, who moved in circles well above the rank of a lieutenant.

“Not personally, but my father has worked closely with him in the past, and I’ve heard him complain about Beck often.”

Hux paused for a moment in thought, suddenly curious. He had never considered your parentage before, despite the fact that, as an officer in the organization, your parents were probably people he had worked with closely. Your surname was not one he recognized, though, which made this newfound mystery all the more intriguing. Apparently, you recognized the confusion on his face, because you moved in to him, closer than was probably proper in a ballroom full of people, pressing yourself against him gently, so that you could speak into his ear.

“My father,” you began, your breath grazing the side of his face and your voice low, “is Allegiant General Enric Pryde.” Hux stumbled, dumbfounded, before regaining his footing and continuing the dance.

Enric Pryde. Just the sound of his name filled Hux with unbridled loathing. Pryde was one of the most powerful men in the First Order and General Hux knew him well. A cruel man, and a friend of his father, Hux had always hated the Allegiant General since he was a child. That man was your father. He tried to process this information, and found it unworkable, a million questions whirling through his mind.

“I didn’t know that the general had any children,” Hux said in response, hoping you couldn’t hear the hatred in his voice.

“He’s not my real father,” you explained, voice still low, “but I was taken in by Pryde at a young age, after my parents died. Pryde and his wife, they never had children, but wanted them badly. When they . . . found me, they treated me as their own, but others in the Order—on our planet Alsakan—they questioned my legitimacy as his heir. I was not . . . treated well by many of the people there, and so they sheltered me from all of this. The Prydes never planned to send me to the Academy, but when I told them that I wanted to go, the general made sure I was admitted.”

When you leaned away from Hux again, he noticed tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your face. He had never seen you so solemn, and he felt the urge to rest his hand on your cheek in comfort.

“When I entered the Academy, I kept my original surname. I didn’t want anyone to think that I hadn’t earned my place here, or that I was receiving special treatment. General Pryde worries for my safety; he doesn’t want me to become a target, from threats inside or out of the Order, so we’ve kept our connection a secret.” The song had ended, but you made no move to leave the dance floor, instead taking both of Hux’s hands in yours and bringing them close to your chest, pleading.

“If the others aboard the Finalizer knew the truth, I’d never be taken seriously. Please, General, don’t tell anyone.”

Emboldened by your request and your honesty, Hux placed one hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his own. He needed you to feel his sincerity, to see it in his face that he, more than anyone, understood what you were going through, and what you were trying to avoid.

“I’ll keep your secret, Lieutenant. I promise.”

[relucant]

cut for endless venting about my family

conversations with my mother

(the 17 lb cat has enthroned himself on her lap, where he will happily remain for hours, which is downright dangerous since she had blood clots in her legs which migrated to her lungs and nearly died, but god forbid she prioritize her own health over the cat’s total comfort)

me: “can i get you anything? water, tea?”

mom: [sadly, looking forlornly at the sip of tea still left in her cup] “oh, i guess not...”

me: “... would you like some more tea?”

mom: “yes, i would”

me: “aslskafhjkgh”

[three minutes later, bringing her fresh tea]

mom: [panicked, frantically shaking her leg] “i can’t feel my foot. it’s completely numb, i can’t feel- i can’t stand up, i can’t feel anything-”

me: “uhhh let me get the cat off your lap first off”

mom: “no no no, it’s okay, i don’t want to disturb him, i just-”

me: [ignores her and picks up the cat, now purring furiously flopped upside down in my arms] “why don’t i maybe shut him out of your room for a bit”

mom: “no no, i’m fine, i just, don’t hurt his feelings, don’t upset him!”

me: [cat is now half asleep with his head tucked into my elbow] “i think he’s okay, mom.”

see also:

a package from amazon came, and my father is very excited to learn that package delivery is a thing.

“did you know they bring it right to the house now? right to the door! the guy came right down the drive and put it at the door!”

“...”

so yeah, my parents are both losing it quickly. my dad moreso than my mom -- dude can no longer bathe consistently, feed himself, or dress himself in appropriate clothing that is not covered in dirt, food, blood, nor cleans himself after using the bathroom. my brother and i unhappily agreed that the grand last family trip to paris/bruges/budapest this spring is an absolutely horrible idea in 15 different ways, so that sucks, selfishly.

and as horrible as it is being here, it sucks doubly because i cannot in good conscience leave until a few major things happen. the house absolutely has to be cleaned up to the point where it’s not actively unsafe to be in -- which, at the moment, not a single room isn’t unsafe, for anyone, really, but especially for someone with severe mobility issues and lack of balance; there are papers covering the floors in every room, and every day i wonder if today’s the day my mother takes one tiny misstep and never comes home from the hospital.

and my father absolutely needs his license revoked. he will keep inexplicably insisting on driving as long as he has a license, and my mother will do nothing to keep him from getting behind the wheel until he kills someone, as he has nearly done more than once. but it’s going to have to be my brother who initiates that conversation, because my mom flat out won’t, and i will lose my temper the first time he snarls at me or shushes me, which will be about four seconds in.

and like, just basic things like have a plan in place on how they’re going to feed themselves. when i’m not here, dinner is basically my mom heats up a shitty frozen lasagna for my dad, and then maybe, maybe has a couple of crackers or something, and six glasses of wine. which like is really not acceptable for two aging people with health issues.

but like, i am just met with absolutely, toddler-level stubborn pushback about everything -- like, refusal to even have a serious back and forth conversation about this shit. i mean, my dad’s basically checked out at this point, so it’s kind of pointless to try to get anything from him, and just make shit happen around him while he plays solitaire and hope he doesn’t try to interfere too much.

but my mother is basically lucid -- her grasp on reality has always been a bit tenuous, but while she’s definitely losing it a little bit, both my (doctor) brother and i agree that it’s not out of line with just plain old aging and isn’t really cause for concern. and i get her reluctance to address the driving -- objectively, it probably should be her responsibility, but he is just such a dismissive, abusive asshole to her basically all the time, i can’t see it going anywhere. and she’s the only who’s going to ultimately have to deal with being stuck without a car when i’m gone. but like... uber is a thing here. publix delivers groceries. they basically only leave the house for doctor’s appointments, food/walgreens like once or twice a week, and sunday lunch as it is; just getting an uber would not be prohibitively expensive.

the house, though, baffles me. she insists that she wants to get the house in order, but just shuts down when i try to work out a plan to do it. i don’t know if it’s just her crippling anxiety and adhd causing executive shutdown, or just the endless loop of impotence in her head, can’t do it can’t do it can’t do it. i finally bullied her into working on getting the dining room table cleared off now that they have their new dressers in the room, so all that debris could go back to their places, but half the stuff on the table still ended up “oh, just... just put it on the bed.” where it now has joined the array of papers and things on endless migratory cycle between the bed and the floor. every time i try to get her to agree to attack something in the house, it’s “oh, no, i’m taking care of these papers.” aka doing a crossword puzzle, paging through the same three catalogues, one page at a time, before returning them to the pile, or just watching msnbc.

(her refusal to address her own mental illnesses is another can o’ worms; i know she’s never believed that her own happiness is remotely worth fighting for, and i think she genuinely does not understand that her mental illnesses might maybe affect other people too, as might her refusal to seek any help)

and like, there are tons of food delivery services that deliver either actual meals or easy, pre-chopped/pre-portioned ingredients. hell, before i left one of the many times, i put together a mini-cookbook with a handful of things i made that basically involve not much more than opening cans, getting pre-chopped veggies from the store, etc, and doesn’t require standing over the stove; my mother attempted exactly zero of these.

i know the odds are slim anything is going to change on their end, and it’s futile to get so upset, but unfortunately it’s difficult to switch that off, especially when you’re around it 24/7. probably my brother and i are going to have to call my father’s doctor and/or the DMV and request he undergoes in-depth testing and hope to hell he fails it, and right now we’re using the threat of calling social services to determine whether it’s fit for habitation by a disabled person (or at all) as leverage, but ultimately, we may have to do it, and get them removed to assisted living, either (hopefully) temporarily while we gut the fucking shithole, or, well, at least we tried.