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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 11 months

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Hand in Hand, Heart to Heart Part I - Gwynriel One-Shot

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, fingering, mirror sex

Let me know what you think! Hope you like it <3

Gwyn always thought of herself as having a good amount of discipline. Being a priestess to the Mother made her patient, focused and enduring in her studies and prayers. Training with two Illyrian warriors brought her that same challenge of determination, only for her body instead of her mind. Then of course there was that tiny bit of ambition engrained in her personality that drove Azriel insane. And yet, sitting at the dinner table in the beautiful mansion of the High Lord and Lady, she felt her reserve crumble.

It had been a great evening so far. Gwyn was now a regular invite at the dinner parties Rhys and Feyre hosted for their family. Especially Feyre had warmed up to her in a split second, and even though her deepest friendship was to another Archeron, she appreciated the calm and positive vibe the High Lady exuded.

Said calm wasn’t about to help her now, though, as she sat right across from her Shadowsinger and just physically couldn’t drag her eyes away from him. More specifically, his hands. All the while the chatter and clatter of their cutlery droned on in the background, faces of family and friends illuminated by soft candle light.

Gwyn had cursed the unsuspecting male ten times already in her mind. It was simply unfair. How he could sit there, not a care in the world, casually eating a potato, and making it look so damn hot.

He was dressed to impressed that night, the embroidered black tunic taunt against the muscle of his chest, some of his tattoos peeking out from the neckline. With his slightly disheveled black hair and that cursed smell of his, it was already enough to make Gwyn daydream.

Up until he had the audacity to roll up his sleeves. Forearms really weren’t on the list of body parts Gwyn found to be enticing – but looking at Azriel now, she had to update said list quickly. Maybe it was just him, and his specific ropes of muscles that moved and danced as he cut through the meat on his plate. The inked muscle made way to scars that spread out evenly over his hands, and it filled Gwyn with joy knowing that she was the one holding these hands and being held by them in return.

She was so completely absorbed in the living daydream that was Azriel, that she jumped just slightly at the feeling of something cold slithering around her ankle.

Her eyes immediately found Azriel’s, who was already watching, a corner of his lips lifted, nostrils flaring just a second. Of course he noticed. Gwyn couldn’t decide if she felt embarrassed or glad. Because if he knew, he might as well do something to end her misery. And he could do something to hide the arousal which was undoubtedly emanating in waves from her at this point.

Gwyn did everything in her power to remain calm, normal, unphased. She continued chatting to Nesta and Feyre, eating her food, drinking her water, doing her best to ignore the Shadowsinger across from her. His Shadows, however, were harder to ignore. Whisps of black continued to curl around her ankle slowly, sometimes reaching up just a tiny bit under her long skirt to flow down her calve. With every reach they became braver, even daring to brush the inside of her knee once. Gwyn was a puddle, mirroring another part of her that was equally drenched, and she was desperate for some privacy by the time dessert was served.

The minutes felt like hours, eyes always straying and coming back to the center of Gwyn’s attention like they were magnets and the male was made of pure iron, until finally, Azriel stood. The priestess held herself back just enough to not immediately jump to her feet, too, as Az came up with some kind of nonsense of where they had to go.

Kisses and hugs were exchanged, promises for the next time made, and then Gwyn stepped out of the house into the fresh autumn night.

Azriel came up behind her, his arms circling around her waist as his lips closed the distance to her ear. His voice basically lowered to a growl as he spoke. “You drive me insane. What possessed you to be such a Gods-damned tease in the middle of dinner?”

“Me?”, Gwyn half turned in his embrace, eyebrows drawn together, “what did I do?”

His amber eyes were glowing. She hadn’t even noticed that before. He seemed like he was serios, too, and just as hot and bothered as she was herself. Odd, she thought. She didn’t even do anything beside staring at him like a devoted priestess would stare at a God.

“Do you even have to ask? Wearing that dress, for a start. Smiling. Looking at me with your dreamy eyes. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you up the staircase to christen one of the thousand guest bedrooms Rhys has.”

Gwyn smiled right in his face now. The dress she was wearing wasn’t scandalous, or even slightly flirty by any means. Yet he actually looked like it personally offended him and his willpower.

“Well, if you wouldn’t have pulled that little Shadow trick halfway through dinner, that staring might have lessened.” Might. Unlikely, but what did he know.

Azriel lowered his head, his nose nearly touching hers. “I had to do something about that delectable scent of yours. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The priestess let out a soft snort. “As if you did that for practicality. You enjoyed every second of my squirming.”

She must have said something wrong, because her Shadowsinger’s features twisted into disbelief, mouth gaping slightly. Then one of his beautiful, strong hands came up to grab her jaw, forcing her to stare right into his eyes. “Do you think I enjoy that kind of torture? That my Shadows get to touch you, instead of me? That they get to be so close to you, while I sat a tables’ distance apart? I’m not a masochist, priestess. I wanted to be alone with you just as much as you wanted it.”

Gwyn’s breathing quickened by the time he was done speaking, so close to him that she felt every dip and curve of his body, his warm breath on her cheeks.

“We are alone now.”, she managed to get out, hopefully sounding at least a little composed.

The smile spreading on Azriel’s face was positively feral. “Seems like we are.”

The time they needed to reach their room in the House of Wind must have been a record. Velaris grew blurry under Azriel’s wings, and he didn’t even let her go out of his arms when they landed on the closest balcony to their corridor. Completely enveloped in the scent of him he continued carrying her until they reached their door, until he sat her down on their bed, lips already on hers.

Gwyn was perched at the edge of the bed, legs spread to accommodate the bulky figure of Azriel between them. As much as she previously dreamt of his hands, the original was way better. His fingers flew over her body, wanting to be in all places at once. He was assertive in the way he held her, squeezed her, not giving her any room to think twice about what was happening. It was so different from the way he touched her before, like she might crack with too much pressure.

Because him treating her like a porcelain doll made her feel like one. Now, she felt like his equal, deserving of his power.

Azriel groaned when she pressed herself harder against him, her own hands working their way over his shoulders and down his back, ever mindful of his wings. His scent of arousal hit her like a brick wall in their frenzied kissing. He must have dampened it while they were with their family and on the way home. The infamous Shadowsinger, nearly blind with desire for a modest little priestess. Gwyn almost messed up the rhythm of their kiss as a grind spread across her face.

“What’s so funny, priestess?”, Azriel spoke against her lips, lids heavy.

Gwyn could only shake her head, too focused on the task of littering kisses up and down Azriel’s neck.

Until a sharp tug on her hair made her arch backwards, her lips losing the warmth they sought.

“I believe I asked you a question.”, Azriel said in an almost bored voice, his fingers firmly tangled in Gwyn’s chestnut locks, pulling just enough to make her gasp in surprise.

“I just”, the priestess started, “I just thought about you desiring me so much.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, yet it sounded to her like she screamed out her truth for anyone to hear.

“And that is funny?”, Az pressed languid kisses from Gwyn’s collarbone up her throat, his breath tickling her skin, “Weird. I don’t feel inclined to laugh much about that. But then again, you apparently aren’t the one driven to insanity with love.”

But she was. And he must have known it too, because his own grin fought its way to his lips.

He released her hair just slightly to let her close the distance to him again, before resuming his firm hold. The kiss they shared was anything but hard, though. It was the lightest of brushes, more like a tickling than anything else. And it reminded Gwyn that, no matter how tough Azriel seemed to be, she was his ultimate soft spot. And she was safe.

Azriel stood after a few lingering moments, abandoning his spot by the bed to lean against his wardrobe. Gwyn felt a surge of pride as she took him in. Completely disheveled, wings slightly flared, Shadows darker than ever and the scent of desire more than potent. The look on his face though was suspiciously calm. Gwyn imagined she herself looked anything but. In the back of her head, she wondered what might happen tonight, if she was ready, if she would be able to please him.

Like he read her mind, Azriel interrupted her spiraling thoughts in just the right time. “Undress for me.”

He didn’t make it sound like a command, more like a plea, yet he looked absolutely confident.

Gwyn really couldn’t do anything but rise from the bed herself, her mind going blissfully blank. She took a few small steps towards him, only to calm her nerves a little. And then, she began unbuttoning her dress.

The last person she had willingly shown herself naked to was her sister, Catrin. It wasn’t hard, not only because they had very similar bodies anyways, but because she loved and trusted her twin completely. As button after button sprung open now, she was consumed by that same feeling of utter peace.

When the neckline of the dress was opened enough, her sleeves already sliding down her arms, she just let go.

The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of simple underpants. She couldn’t help the subtle flush that crept up her chest, her heart picking up pace just slightly, but her Shadowsinger’s reaction was all worth it.

It was like he got struck by lightning. Azriel sucked in an audible breath, his eyes unblinking as if she were a spirit and gone when he closed his eyes for just a second too long. His hands flexed by his sides, probably wanting to reach for her but giving her more time to adjust to this.

“You are breathtaking, Gwyn.”, he simply said, his body slowly starting to move towards her. His steps were measured and careful, eyes never straying from her form. When he stood right in front of her, he interlaced his fingers with hers before continuing to walk all the way behind her back.

Gwyn remained rooted to the spot, unmoving except for the wave of goosebumps that travelled all across her body when he brought his lips to her shoulder. A soft kiss here, another there, then, suddenly, Gwyn felt something cold on her waist.

Her muscles reacted before she noticed that it just had been Azriel’s bare hand. They contracted for a split second. But he drew away from her nonetheless, trying to figure out it she was genuinely scared.

“Gwyn?”, was all he asked.

She released a shaky breath. “I’m good, it felt cold, that’s all.”

A heartbeat of silence, then another. Gwyn started to wonder if she said something wrong, or if he didn’t believe her.

“I could wear gloves if you’d prefer that. I don’t mind.”

His voice was business-like as it travelled over Gwyn’s bare shoulders to her ear. But that nonchalance of his was practiced, forced, making it appear as if hiding away his insecurity wasn’t a big deal. Gwyn couldn’t believe her ears.

She half turned in his direction, lips parted in – offence? She did feel a little offended that he thought he had to hide away his scars from her. “Azriel, I jumped because I didn’t expect a touch there, and I didn’t expect the coldness.”

It just occurred to her, in this moment, that she might not be the only nervous fae in the room. Azriel just always hid it so well, had that mask of indifference and confidence protecting him from showing his vulnerable side. And before that night, he never really touched her bare skin, except her hands and arms.

Gwyn turned to him fully now, so close her chest brushed against the fabric of his tunic. She interlaced her hands with both of his, bringing them up towards her chin. And slowly, never breaking eye contract, she placed one lingering kiss on his knuckles, and another on his other hand.

“I never want to hear about you offering to wear gloves when you touch me ever again”, she whispered.

Azriel’s face didn’t betray any emotion as he gave a curt nod. He probably wished to pretend this conversation never happened, but it did. And Gwyn was determined to make him feel comfortable with her.

“You know what exactly it was that caught my attention when you noticed me staring during dinner? What got me dreaming about this?”, she asked him, letting go of his hands and slowly caressing his arms all the way up to his shoulders. “I was watching your hands, their strength, the way they moved so elegantly and self-assured. How the muscles on your forearm flexed when you moved. And I wished…”, Gwyn had so swallow, her throat dry from excitement, “I wished that those hands touched me. That they explored my body all night, and then held me as I fell asleep.”

She smiled at him as his expression softened almost imperceptibly. Gwyn was a master now at reading Azriel’s micro expressions, and she knew he started to believe her. “And I will always know it’s you who touches me. Not anyone. You.”

It was Azriel’s turn to swallow now. But he didn’t respond to her. Well, not using words anyways.

With those incredible Illyrian reflexes, he moved on her. Gwyn blinked and then found herself perched on the wardrobe again, Azriel resuming his place wedged between her spread legs. His hands cradled her head as he kissed her with abandon. Gwyn’s senses went into overdrive, every brush of his tongue on her lips sent sparks of electricity straight into her core. She tried to reciprocate, to give him her everything in return, but it was like something had snapped inside the male. He devoured her mouth, biting and licking at her thoroughly. He drew noises out of her that Gwyn didn’t know she could make, but they only seemed to spur him on more.

“Remind me, where did you wish my hands would be, my love?”, Az broke the kiss, voice all raspy and hot and so incredibly all-consuming that Gwyn only had one answer for him.

“Everywhere.”, she breathed, her own hands clawed in the fabric of his tunic.

Azriel dropped his right hand to rest on the swell of her hip, while his other dragged its way from Gwyn’s jaw down her throat and to her breast. His thumb circled her nipple at an agonizing pace before he palmed her with his whole hand. Gwyn had to look down her body, still in a bit of disbelief that he was touching her so freely, and that it felt Cauldron-damned amazing.

“Like what you see?”, Azriel whispered, one corner of his lips lifted in that cocky smile. Then, his hands suddenly dropped, and Gwyn was being moved again through the room until she stood in front of their large full-body mirror.

“Take off your pants and then sit, my love.”, Azriel ordered, already letting himself fall to the ground behind her. She quickly shed the last layer of clothing and found her space between his spread legs, in full view of her naked body, and the dark form of Azriel behind her.

It was a pretty picture to look at, as much as Gwyn not wanted to acknowledge the lewdness of it all. The pearly white of her skin contrasted beautifully with Azriel’s tanner one, and his black clothing and Shadows. Her hair covered parts of her modest chest, but the Shadowsinger was quick to brush the offending pieces behind her back. “So fucking pretty.” He mumbled, more to himself than to her it seemed, as his eyes raked her form in the mirror, centering in on the flesh between her legs.

“Now you’ll be able to see better.”, Azriel said with a hint of mischief.

Gwyn was worried that she’d see a bit too much, but was willing to submit to him nonetheless. She never felt so alive, so sensual in her own body than now, illuminated by the firelight and in the embrace of her love.

Azriel began caressing her, his hands brushing softly over every inch of her body. They drew lines up and down her side, sometimes nearing her apex but then withdrawing to circle around her breasts again. Squeezing them. Mapping out the skin on her inner thighs. Gwyn was panting, and just like at the dinner table, she wasn’t able to drag her eyes away from Azriel’s hands. The heat between her legs throbbed almost painfully now, but she didn’t want to close her legs hard enough to give herself some relief, since she would have trapped Azriel’s hand with the movement. His own arousal felt painfully hard against her lower back.

“Is that how you imagined it would be?”, Azriel asked from behind her. He knew fully well that he was teasing her, he wanted her to spell it out for him.

“Please, Az.”, she hoped her desperate whimper would be enough to break his resolve. But she was wrong.

“Please what, priestess?”, he kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder, then bit down on it. “You can ask anything from me. But you need to do it clearly.”

Cauldron damn that male.

She couldn’t say it. That was a line that would need to be crossed another time, another night. Instead, she reached for one of his hands and dragged it down her body, until it cupped her sex completely. Both let out a moan at the feeling, Gwyn from relief, Azriel probably because he could already feel her wetness.

“I need you to spread your legs for me, love. Otherwise we can’t see what I’m doing to you.”

Gwyn complied eagerly, slowly letting her knees fall apart, leaving her completely open and vulnerable to Azriel. Their eyes locked in the mirror.

“You honor me.”, he simply said. Then he removed his palm from her pussy, leaving her bare to their view.

Gwyn never really looked at herself. When she tried to orgasm by her own hand, she only did it in the cover of night, under the blanket and as quickly as possible. Nothing would be hidden now, as she observed the pinkiness of her flesh, the sheen of wetness it revealed.

One of Azriel’s hands travelled up now, enclosing over Gwyn’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, but instead held her in place so that she didn’t miss a second of what was shown in the mirror. And then he touched her.

Gwyn drew in a gasp of air at the first contact. It was different than touching herself, more exciting, unexpected. Azriel groaned behind her at the feel of her warmth. “Is that all for me, my love?”

The priestess nodded. She was truly his at this moment.

His scarred fingers moved up and down her slit for a bit, collecting her juices and spreading them evenly, before he honed in on her clit. His pointer and middle finger drew tight circles around her bud, and Gwyn could have wept for the feeling of utter bliss it brought her. Her head fell back to his chest, eyes still trained dutifully on the spot between her legs.

After some time of circling, Azriel dipped his fingers lower to bring some more wetness straight from the source. He never actually let himself sink into her, but only the little contact with her hole made Gwyn greedy. “Az, I want you inside me, please.”

Azriel grinned, “Look at you, asking so nicely.”

One finger sank into her, up to one knuckle first, all the way in the second time. Gwyn moaned at the intrusion. His finger was longer than hers, thicker, and it had more texture due to the scars. She was so sensitive that she felt every single one of them as he slowly fucked her.

“More?”, he asked after a while with a kiss to her cheek. Gwyn already grew restless between his legs, squirming and moving to just get more.

She watched another finger stretching her, her juices nearly overflowing. Azriel’s hand that previously enclosed her throat now also joined in, resuming the idle circling of her clit from before. The combination of the two made Gwyn feel like she was in heaven. She never wanted this to stop. Maybe she even told Azriel that because he choked out a hoarse laugh at her moans and whimpers.

“Do you think you can come from this?”, he asked.

Gwyn forced her head to move up and down, beyond forming actual words. Azriel’s presence and scent behind her, his hands on her and Gwyn being able to watch it all was too much for the priestess. Her orgasm started building in her.

Azriel kept up the same pace on her clit, but started to finger her fast than before, curling his fingers up when he was deepest inside her. After the haziest and best minutes of her life, Gwyn felt the muscles of her legs flex, the pressure behind her spine dissolving.

She might have called out Azriel’s name when she came. Or it was just nonsense that came out of her mouth.

The Shadowsinger continued his movements to keep her on her high longer, until it became too much and she had to yank away his hands herself. She completely fell into him, every inch of her body relaxed and… happy.

Azriel picked her up and placed her on the bed lovingly. He quickly wiped her clean with a cloth before joining her. The hands that brought her so much pleasure just a minute before now held her closely and safely to his chest. He littered small kisses all over her face, her nose, eyelids and mouth.

“I’m so proud of you, you have no idea.”, he said after Gwyn’s heartrate dropped to a normal level again.

Gwyn smiled. A big, joyous, gorgeous smile. “Me, too.”

Taglist: @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel smut #acotar #acotar smut #gwyneth berdara #Azriel

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kirisakiss · 11 days

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Their reactions to meeting hikari for the first time!

Featuring: Sakamaki brothers + Yui!

Word count: around 1.3k

CW: Slight NSFW, trauma mentions, misogyny?, the Sakamaki brothers being weird as always, probably OOC since it’s been years from the last time I wrote (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

— Shu Sakamaki

Shu, as always, didn’t really care about her. He was confused at first as to why “that man” had sent another woman to the house, specially without communicating it to him first.

He thought she was hot, tbh. He liked how she was dressed and he liked her figure. He was intrigued about her.

But as anyways; he didn’t care enough to worry about her, it’s more noise and more annoying people in the house after all.

He got even less interested in her when he started seeing her around Reiji, it started to bother him so he started avoiding her when he could, not like running away from her, but just trying not to bump into each other, especially if Reiji was around.

He just doesn’t give a fuck about her at first LMAO

— Reiji Sakamaki

Reiji was confused at first too, why is there another mouth to feed in this house. Are seven people not enough. Please let me breathe. God.

But his opinion quickly turned positive! Hikari’s manners were perfect which satisfied him a lot. —since Hikari was perfectly trained to be the perfect lady. — They were both in the same school year, and she seemed decent enough to talk to.

He felt relieved that he didn’t have to discipline another person too, dealing with his brothers was enough of a headache for him.

As the sadist he is, he tried poisoning her with his teas a few times, but the poison didn’t really seem to affect her; and it didn’t even seem like she noticed.

He eventually just stopped trying to use her as a test subject and just accepted her as an acquaintance; going together to the library and walking together to class. And of course, complaining about how much he hates Shu and how useless he is.

They get along pretty well! They normally drink tea and read together in the afternoons!

— Laito Sakamaki

“Oh? Another pretty girl? In this house? That I can torment?” He was excited, really excited at first.

After observing her a lot and interacting with her a few times though, he noticed something strange about her. Laito was the first one to catch up that Hikari’s persona was all an act.

Maybe because the way he is is an act itself, and he’s used to performing being a whole different person.

After that, his interest about her changed, he didn’t just want to fuck her, he was intrigued. What was she hiding?

He started teasing her more, not just sexually like he was used to but tormenting her psychologically became a hobby of his too. He wanted her to finally break and stop acting.

He changed his usual “Bitch-chan” for “Liar-chan” and “Hypocrite-chan” just to annoy her and let her know he knew that she was hiding something.

Instead of receiving threats or breaking down, Hikari would still answer sweetly “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Laito-kun ^^”

He was PISSED. But not completely in a bad way, it just became a little game for him to try to decipher what the actual fuck was she hiding. He likes and finds interesting how much she can pretend to be someone else.

He kinda relates to her, which he finds creepy. He’s secretly scared of her noticing the same about him. Makes him have his guard up around her always.

She reminds him of Cordelia physically sometimes. That makes him both sick and attracted to her.

— Kanato Sakamaki

Likes the way she portrays herself at first, when Hikari arrives to the mansion for the first time she’s wearing a Lolita-like dress, which Kanato likes.

He likes her features and how doll-like they are. He loves how she dresses, he needs to make her one of his dolls. She needs to be close to him all the time.

After interacting with her a few times though, he fucking hates her.

He has this uncanny valley-like feeling about her, it’s like there’s something wrong with her, but he can’t really place it. Like she isn’t normal.

(Which she isn’t, of course.) Maybe it's the way she smells, something about her blood, the weird magic smell that seems to come out of her, that makes him get into a weird fight or flight mode.

He can’t be alone with her for a long time because he’s more prone to outbursts, ends up stabbing her thigh with a fork once.

Despite having to act all lovey-dovey with everyone, Hikari becomes afraid of Kanato and tries to avoid him the most she can.

— Ayato Sakamaki

Pretty woman. Big boobs.

Just like his brothers, feels attracted to her physically at first. There’s something alluring about her, a weird enticing energy that makes him drawn to her.

Eventually, after staring at her for too long, he also gets a little creeped out by her. And just like Kanato, he gets a weird uncanny valley-like feeling.

I think he would be the first one to bite her, in her upper chest. Always the best one, he needed to be the first to taste her.

He had never tasted a blood like hers before, it was not sweet like Yui's or his mother's, it was a brand-new taste, a bittersweet one that made you want to taste more to decipher it.

It tasted like a very strong, sweet alcohol; Her blood made him oddly euphoric at the moment.

Ayato hated the way her blood made him feel after, giving him a kind of hangover-like feeling, he hates it.

Only drinks her blood from time to time because of this, and prefers just sticking to Yui, she tastes better, either way.

Hikari plays a lot into his superiority complex, addressing him as “Ayato-sama” and just praising the shit out of him. That’s kinda what makes him come back for more.

— Subaru Sakamaki

Just like Shuu, he couldn’t care less about her. He’s annoyed by the fact that there’s someone else to disturb his peace.

He's REALLY annoyed by how nice she tries to be with everyone, he just doesn’t trust anyone (especially a woman) being so “nice”

Takes as much distance as he can from her, it already took him long enough to get used to Yui, he’s not doing it again, and to another unknown woman brought specifically by Karlheinz.

If she talks to him, he ignores her and moves on, would rather die than become any kind of friend to her.

I think Hikari would feel the safest with him though, so I feel like she wouldn’t have to be acting a 100% all the time, slightly letting out her real thoughts and opinions from time to time.

I think he would start seeing through her, noticing this and slowly warming up to her.

I feel like eventually, with a lot of work, they could become friends, probably enjoying the silence in the gardens together.

— Yui Komori

Yui is really excited !!! Another girl? omfg !!!

Tries getting close to her, it would be nice having a friend in the house.

Sadly, due to how Karlheinz painted everything to Hikari, she sees Yui as a rival, and doesn’t want anything to do with her.

Hikari tends to ignore her, only addressing her if necessary. She’s cold to her, and this saddens Yui a lot. She looses the hope she had gained in regard to making a friend that is supposedly in the same situation as her.

Despite her coldness, Yui is always nice to her. This makes Hikari angry, since she thinks Yui is being fake too.

It secretly angers her how genuinely kind Yui is, she’s jealous at how she genuinely has a good heart despite being surrounded by pain.

She envies how “pure” Yui still is even though she has suffered a lot, she hates that she couldn’t stay like that.

Eventually, after Hikari realizes Karlheinz’s real motives and starts acting for herself, she apologizes to Yui and asks if they can be friends, and they become really close !

#𖤐⸝⸝﹕cor cordium #୨୧⸝⸝﹕undead doll #forgive me if this is ooc 😞#tags ➜#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #headcanons #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #yui komori #oc x canon

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charliedawn · 1 month

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DEFECTIVE GOOD PART 7

General Hux gazed impassively out the viewport as the gleaming skyscrapers of Coruscant came into view. The planet swarmed with sentient beings of every species, their buzzing activity a hive-like magnification of what lurked within his own breast. Duty called him to this gathering of First Order elites, yet part of him would rather be anywhere but immersed in beings. A quiet presence at his side drew his gaze, finding JR-6025 attentively scanning the horizon as well. She seemed rather quiet and in deep silent contemplation before such a lively setting. He smiled. How strange that this trooper's calm company soothed him more than any other's.

"Your first time setting eyes on the galactic capital, I presume ?" He asked. She nodded, eyes wide with wonder behind her visor. A faint smile softened Hux's stern features. "It can be overwhelming. But, this city is at the very heart of the First Order. A place unlike any other. The center of all trades and a great well of knowledge for those who know how to look and listen."

JR-6025 remained quiet as she listened to his words.

"…Isn’t it the planet where Imperial cadets are trained ?" She asked. She had heard about the academy and the way Imperial cadets were trained…and of their cruel and cut-throat programme of training and indoctrination. She shivered just at the thought and glanced at general Hux. Hux's faint smile hardened at the mention of the Imperial academies scattered across Coruscant.

"Indeed, the Imperial doctrines were forged from fire here," he replied evenly. "No expense was spared in molding raw recruits into efficient extensions of the Empire's will. Survival of the fittest, they called it.."

His pale eyes softened as they met JR-6025's masked gaze. Instilling fear had its place as a control tactic, but when directed inward corroded even the finest steel over time.

"The First Order improves upon that legacy," he continued gently. "Where the Empire broke minds and hearts without care, we aim to temper souls into masterfully controlled weapons of precision and obedience through discipline, such is the way."

Reaching out, his leathered fingers brushed a subtle caress upon her armored wrist in a rare display of comfort. "Fear has its uses, JR-6025. It crafts the minds into perfections of order and obedience."

"…You have been through their training." She looked at him and noticed that even in the way he was sitting—there were the remnants of his education in the way he was positioned. He was straight and seemed tense all the time—ready for anything. She couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been—for a child no less.

She wanted to apologise—but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. And besides, she couldn’t offer an apology for an ideology they were both fighting to keep and expand. She lowered her head and looked away. As the shuttle breached atmosphere and the bustling metropolis sprawled in all its dazzling chaos beneath.

She quickly stepped outside and looked around. It wasn’t like any planets she had ever visited. As a stormtrooper, JR-6025 had always been sent to rather unwelcoming planets or war-ridden places where the First Order wasn’t all powerful. But here…Here, the First Order was booming. She could see the banners and the civilisation buzzing with life. It was…not what she had expected from a planet ruled by the First Order. It was…alive. She looked back at general Hux—waiting for his instructions. A protocol droid came to get them and guided them to some big lodging with enough rooms to make her dizzy. Once the droid gone, she was once again reminded of general Hux’s presence and didn’t know what she should say or do…General Hux surveyed the grand accommodations with an impassive gaze, at home amid luxury yet still observing with a keen tactical eye. Turning to JR-6025, he noted her awestruck yet uncertain demeanor, familiar with her kind's unease away from familiar regimen.

"At ease, trooper. For the duration we are but diplomats, not dictated by ranks or codes. You may explore the grounds and experience what pleasures this gilded world has to offer," he said, voice modulated gentle yet commanding as ever. Then, a glint stirred in his steel gaze.

"Unless, of course, you'd care for a guide well-versed in Coruscanti intrigues ?" The faintest smirk edged his stern lips. For all his austerity, even he took secret delight in frivolities when duty permitted—and this trooper's company was growing from respite to something more anticipated.

"Come. I'll show you a sight that puts this plush prison to shame." Sweeping from the chamber, Hux waited for her by the door—to walk Coruscant streets alone, or witness its wonders through the eyes of one who knew both its light and shadows intimately.

She followed him dutifully.

Hux guided her through grand plazas and hovering skywalks with an intimate knowledge of the metropolis' layout. "There, that shaft leads to the Galactic Senate building. And beyond those spires lies the Jedi Temple ruins." His usually stern voice held a note almost conversational as he pointed out landmarks.

Coming to a high overlook, he paused. "Now this, troopers like yourself never see—the true heart of Coruscant, beating beneath the surface." Below stretched an endless metallic expanse, speeders whizzing between towering ziggurats and spiralling walkways.

JR-6025 gasped softly. Even Hux's usual aloof demeanour softened, taking in the breathtaking panorama with something like nostalgia. "Magnificent, is it not ? This planet's true majesty lies not in its gaudy glitter, but the ordered industry beneath."

"…Fascinating." She uttered in a whisper—her helmet hiding her expression of awe and admiration as to such marvel.

"…And the First Order controls it all ?"

General Hux's chest swelled with pride at her words. "Indeed. Through strength, discipline and vision, the First Order has brought unity and progress to this once fractured world."

He gazed out over the gleaming metropolis, each meticulously organized level a testament to his own exacting standards. "Chaos and corruption once reigned supreme, as the misguided Republic crumbled into warring fiefdoms. But we have restored order and stability through fair but firm rule."

Turning to JR-6025, his eyes shone with zealous conviction. "It is a vision that shall envelop the whole galaxy in time. World by world, system by system, the First Order will lift every being from lawless squalor toward their full potential." A faint smile curled his stern lips.

"I'm glad you witnessed this, trooper. Too often our true purpose is obscured by perception of brute force alone. But order, progression, enrichment of life—this is what we strive to cultivate across civilized space. And with operatives like yourself aiding our cause, ultimate triumph is assured."

"…And…what happens to those who cannot keep up with such modernity and its civilised ways ?" JR-6025 asked—already fearing the answer.

General Hux looked away and sighed.

"Not all worlds embrace progress willingly, it is true. Some peoples cling stubbornly to backward ways." He turned, leaning on the railing as his gaze grew stern. "Those who defy the Order's will and refuse our repeated offers of integration leave us little choice."

Hux studied his neatly gloved hands. "I will not lie—noncompliance is not tolerated. Planets deemed irredeemably hostile face...sanctions. Their infrastructure may be targeted to quash unrest and force capitulation." His voice hardened as he looked into the distance.

"It is an unpleasant reality, I know. But progress demands sacrifice. A few must suffer so many more may be lifted to new heights. Once integrated, even former dissidents enjoy improved standards of living under the Order's guidance."

Turning to her, his eyes softened. "It is not a path I relish, trooper. But as a strategist, I must consider the needs of the whole galaxy, and shape each world to maximize civilization's advance."

She hummed understandingly and leaned on the railing as well as her eyes took in the breathtaking sight once more.

"…Is it the reason you do it ? The reason you fight for the First Order. For civilization ? For a world where only order remains ?" She then looked at him. "…Or is it perhaps for glory ? A name to be made ? Do you wish for all to know the name of General Armitage Hux ?"

General Hux considered her questions carefully. This trooper had an uncanny ability to cut to the core of what moved him.

"At the start, perhaps ambition played too large a part in my designs," he admitted ponderously. "Rising through the ranks, establishing my House's legacy—such were primary motivators in my youth."

His stare grew distant, recalling origins steeped in shame seeking erasure through military might. But over decades shaping the First Order into an indomitable machine, perspective had evolved.

"In time, though, my vision expanded to encompass the galaxy entire. I came to understand the depths of rot and chaos that festered under the old regimes." Hux's eyes blazed with zealous belief.

"Order, discipline, unity of purpose—these are what shall propel the Order, and all civilization, to heights never dreamed. Through strength, we will forge a legacy not of one man, but of an eternal empire guiding the galaxy to peace and progress as never known."

His gaze found JR-6025's. "That, Trooper, is why I fight. And that vision alone shall see the First Order's legacy reign eternal."

She remained silent for a while before straightening up.

"…I know it is not my place to say, but I do believe in your greatness, sir. And I do admire your dedication to the First Order."

General Hux regarded the trooper with muted surprise. Few were so bold as to openly praise him so, yet her sincerity seemed beyond question. A warmth spread through him at her deep-seated loyalty, rare and precious as a Kyber crystal.

"Your belief in our cause is appreciated, JR-6025," he said quietly. Gazing out once more over the glittering expanse that was his vision given solid form, pride and purpose swelled within.

"It is operatives such as yourself, with unwavering dedication to duty and order, who will see the First Order truly triumph where all others have failed." Turning, he bestowed a small smile, meant as compliment beyond words.

"You have proven yourself an exceptional asset, Trooper. Therefore I am permitting you certain honors beyond your station." Reaching within his greatcoat, Hux produced a small metallic pin and fastened it to her armour himself.

"Wear this proudly—a token of my faith that together, through discipline and unity of purpose, we shall build a legacy to endure the millennia." His eyes gleamed with the weight of gloried futures yet to be forged through will and strength of arms.

She looked down at the pin and blinked twice in surprise before returning her gaze on general Hux.

"Thank you, sir." She felt proud and then lowered her voice as she whispered. "…And allow me to say that I believe in YOU. Always have. Always will."

General Hux stiffened almost imperceptibly at her hushed yet fervent pledge. Few had dared voice such intimate faith. Yet, he sensed no trap nor pretense—only steadfast belief in his vision, and in his leadership to see it realized.

Slowly, his stern features softened. "Your loyalty is a razor's edge, trooper, and all the sharper for it. In you I have indeed found a weapon to surpass even my calculations."

Grasping her pauldron gently, he gazed into her visored gaze with an intensity rarely afforded any being. "Together we have risen far, you and I. But farther still our empire shall reach, built on the cornerstones of faith like yours. Know that your dedication touches something deeper than mere strategy or protocol."

Releasing her, Hux turned once more to survey the glittering jewels below with a general surveying hard-won dominion. But within swelled a heat unfamiliar yet not unwelcome, born of her whispered oath.

"You speak frankly, JR-6025, beyond your station." His voice remained low yet modulated, gaze searching hers intently. Within her visor's reflective surface swam no guile or manipulation—only pure sincerity and deeper currents he dared not name.

"Greatness is a perception. Power, attainment, glory—these are but externals. To have earned even a single being's...faith, in what lies within..." Emotions ever elusive yet complexly woven through his being surfaced briefly, crafting a solemn sincerity upon lips more accustomed to disdain. "You honour me deeply, trooper. I swear to prove myself worthy of such belief, through strength of will and vision to forge a legacy of which we both may be proud."

She chuckled.

"Me ? Oh no, general. Not for me. For you see…If it is my validation you seek. You can have it. All of it. My faith in you never wavered. Never. Not once. You have nothing to prove to me—or to anyone. I know that you wish to prove yourself, but allow me to tell you that you…"

She took a step towards him and tilted her head.

"…you have NOTHING to prove. Your legacy is made. You are the general of the most powerful army in the galaxy…If I was being honest ? I strive to one day be but a little bit the man that you are."

General Hux stood immobilized as her impassioned speech washed over him. Never had any soul expressed such devoted faith in his intrinsic worth. Moments passed as he searched her visored gaze, finding only ardent sincerity meeting his own widened eyes. Then, slowly, warmth bloomed within like the dawning of some unknown sun. His lips curved ever so slightly, touched by unseen gentleness.

"Your loyalty astounds me, JR-6025...as does your perception." Lifting a hand, he softly traced the curve of her mask, longing to glimpse the eyes beneath lending him such unexpected solace.

"There is no praise I could offer to equal what I have heard from you." His palm lingered, transmitting a pulse of gratitude, respect—and something deeper, kindling in a heart that had long forgotten how to hope. At last, Hux smiled. "Come. It is time to get ready for the gathering ahead."

She smiled underneath her helmet.

"As you wish, sir."

She started walking back next to him and looked around at the city around them.

General Hux walked beside JR-6025 in reflective silence as they took in the glittering cityscape. An unseen burden had lifted from his shoulders, leaving room to truly see anew the magnificence wrought through his driven hand. Every gleaming tower and speeding airspeeder bore witness to his will given manifest form. Yet where before he saw only a machine of conquering supremacy, now deeper layers of meaning emerged. Here dwelled untold multitudes, each soul with potential to thrive and better the whole through unity and purpose.

His gaze found JR-6025 at his side, the spark that ignited this shifting perception. Within her words no judgement dwelt, only pure and unadulterated faith. And for her belief alone, worlds newly opened within his hardened heart. Coruscant shone ever brighter as in her companionship, new vision dawned.

General Hux’ protocol droid K-4 came to them when they were walking back to their lodging and informed him:

"Sir. It is. 6. pm. 1 hour and 30 minutes remaining until the. Gathering. You have. To. Get prepared."

General Hux nodded promptly before another droid came to lead JR-6025 to her bedroom where clothes and a mask had been provided for the night. General Hux quickly prepared to get dressed for the gathering. Once he was dressed, he went to JR-6025’s door and knocked.

"JR-6025. It is time to go."

He heard a faint commotion inside.

"Yes, general. I apologise. I am still getting dressed." General Hux nodded.

"Very well. No need to apologise. Take your time." General Hux waited patiently for Jr-6025 to finish up so they could head to the gathering. A few minutes passed and General Hux could still hear noises from her room. General Hux grew slightly impatient as he waited outside her door.

When she finally got out, she was dressed in the beautiful midnight gown with star-like patterns that General Hux had asked a droid to give to her the night before. She had her hair braided and her face was covered with a mask that General Hux had personally chosen for the occasion. She didn’t know if she would look the part as his plus one, but she would certainly try…

General Hux’s eyes widened slightly when he caught a glimpse of JR-6025. She was actually quite beautiful in the dress he had ordered for her. The dress suited her and he couldn’t help but look at her with awe. General Hux stood silent, admiring her and couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She indeed looked the part as his plus one and he was quite happy with her appearance.

She remained silent, patiently awaiting judgment. General Hux was finally able to gather himself and was able to respond.

"I must say that the dress looks better on you than I had anticipated…"

General Hux slowly stepped forward and held his hand out to her, so she could take it and they could walk. She stared at his hand and smiled before hovering her hand over his.

"You know…It is not too late to change your mind." General Hux gave out a small laugh when she said this. For a split second, General Hux had that thought but quickly shook it off. General Hux was determined to have JR-6025 by his side and he was not going to change his mind now. General Hux slowly nudged his hand forward as he wanted JR-6025 to take his hand. He was already imagining the two of them walking into that gathering together. He kept smiling and was patiently waiting for her to finally take his hand.

She sighed in defeat and finally took it.

General Hux was pleased to see her take his hand and remained silent as they began to walk. He didn’t speak but, he was trying to fight the feeling of just wanting to stop walking and keeping her hand locked with his. JR-6025 stopped just as they were about to walk into the room. She held her breath. She hadn’t been nervous until that very moment. General Hux noticed that JR-6025 had gone completely silent and had stopped walking. He looked over to her and realized that she was starting to get nervous. He could sense her worry. He looked over at JR-6025 and spoke in a softer tone, so that she perhaps wouldn’t realize that she was going into this gathering with a First Order general.

"You’re doing fine. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You just need to stay by my side."

General Hux was now trying to comfort her. He smiled and spoke in a soft but reassuring tone. But, JR-6025 was starting to realise just how out of depth she was about to be…

"…What if I fail ? What if I embarrass you ?"

General Hux smiled and chuckled.

"You won’t fail. You won’t embarrass me either, JR-6025. You have got nothing to worry about. Just stay calm and I promise that you won’t disappoint me. All I need you to do is stand by my side and be yourself. It is quite simple."

"Will you guide me ?" She asked and instinctively squeezed his hand. General Hux smiled and gave a soft nod.

"Yes. I will guide you. All you have to do is stick by my side. Keep yourself calm and let me handle the rest. We’re going to be fine."

She nodded.

"What if people ask questions ?"

General Hux smiled and looked over at her as they walked.

"They won’t ask any questions. Just keep quiet and let me do all the talking. All you have to do is look pretty and stay by my side. That’s it."

She looked at him.

"What if something comes up and I cannot handle it ?"

General Hux looked over at her and spoke.

"That is not going to happen. Besides, I will be by your side to support you. All you need to do is simply stay calm and remain by my side. Keep your thoughts to yourself and don’t speak any more than you have to. You won’t disappoint me."

General Hux gave her a slight smile and gave her hand the slightest squeeze. He looked forward to getting through this gathering with her. General Hux felt something he had never really felt before. He didn’t know whether to love it or hate it. Part of him felt uncomfortable with this attachment he was feeling towards her but another part of him felt comfort from it. General Hux felt a little bit conflicted currently but he was trying to block out the negative thoughts.

She sighed and nodded before they started walking again and a thought passed through her head as they walked. A thought that made her shake her head in disbelief.

"…You could have had a princess." She uttered in a whisper and shook her head in disbelief. She deplored her own fate…General Hux was slightly surprised by her words when she whispered that he could have had a princess. The general then smiled and chuckled a little bit at her comment.

"Well…I didn’t want a princess. I wanted you."

JR-6025's breath caught behind her mask at the general's unexpected words. But before she could respond, the grand entryway loomed, filled with First Order elite in opulent finery. She gripped Hux's hand tighter for strength, sensing his own pulse quicken beneath pristine gloves. Then, his tone came firm and clear:

"Hold your head high. You are here as my equal, and any who question that will answer to me. Now, let us make our entrance—and start them wondering, shall we ?"

At her nod, they swept within together, the epitome of military poise and discipline. Yet beneath the surface, unfamiliar passions stirred, threatening long-held strictures. Would this forbidden dance end in the shattering of lives, or something more ? Announced, they began mingling amid lavish festivities. JR-6025 kept finely tuned to each subtle cue from Hux, charming dignitaries with poised discussion of policy. Her wit and intelligence impressed all—all save one, a visiting Lord who eyed her mask with disdain.

"A trooper, General ? I expected a worthier guest for our great general…." The man smirked.

General Hux's steely gaze cut to the haughty lord, smiling politely yet with an edge like a vibroblade. "Only results and loyalty impress me, Lord Javis. I find both attributes in my companion in quantities vastly exceeding your own."

Taking JR-6025's gauntleted hand securely in his, Hux lifted it to graze a subtle kiss upon her knuckles, never breaking the petulant lordling's stare. "While you quibble over trivialities, my associate excels at objectives that truly matter. So I suggest directing your contempt towards more productive ends."

As Javis sputtered—so did JR-6025. She hadn’t expected such a gesture from general Hux who then proceeded to ignore her eyes wide open in surprise. He turned smoothly to introduce JR-6025 to another esteemed officer. "Colonel Versio, allow me to present Trooper JR-6025—recently promoted to my personal attaché. Her strategic mind and courage in the field have proven time and again why she deserves the recognition."

Gleaming proudly beneath her mask, JR-6025 addressed Versio respectfully yet without reserve as to the extent of her admiration towards Colonel Versio’s recent wins on the battlefield. All the while, at her side Hux watched with an appreciative smile, pleased his plus one shone where superficial courtiers like Javis forever stumbled. Her radiance tonight far outshone any gem in the glittering hall—it was a light he found himself craving, like the true North star in this realm of false lights and misguiding beacons.

After that, JR-6025 seemed to play her part as the good company of general Hux. Her conversation was correct and quite interesting, but she then let general Hux do most of the talking as she decided to obey him and just stand by his side as he spoke. She looked around and saw people talking and dancing and eating…There were so many people, so many members and allies of the First Order…General Hux continued to walk with JR-6025 as they saw the many guests gathered within the room. General Hux noticed that JR-6025 was still holding onto his arm and he proceeded to gently pull her closer to him as as they kept walking from guest to guest. General Hux made sure to introduce her to many of the guests. JR-6025 smiled at them, but didn’t talk out of turn or without being absolutely sure that her words wouldn’t be considered offensive.

The evening proceeded smoothly, with JR-6025 charming all in attendance with her subtle wit and insightful discussion. Ever at Hux's side, she observed each interaction keenly, learning the intricate dance of power politics.

"You handle yourself admirably, as expected," Hux whispered to her with a small smile. She smiled back and didn’t say anything…not until she overheard people talking nearby and her blood froze in her veins.

"General Hux…How dare he show his face after such disgrace ?"

"The Starkiller base’s destruction. Such tragedy."

"Doesn’t he have any shame ?"

"To think he lost the Starkiller base..."

"No wonder. He is but a bastard. The rejected son of Commandant Brendol Hux and some kitchen woman…"

General Hux stayed silent as he attempted to avoid listening to them. He was tired and didn’t need to say anything. He knew many would be spitting on his name tonight…JR-6025 suddenly stopped walking however and all muttering and dark whispering stopped to look at her. She then detached herself from the General’s arm and looked around fearlessly at all who had dared insult the General. A bunch of snakes with venomous poison dripping from their gapping jaws…

"How DARE you ?! General Hux was at the origin of the Starkiller base ! He single-handedly annihilated the New Republic by destroying Hosnian Prime ! He is the closest general to have ever completely wiped out the Rebellion ! He promoted the development of new technology that allowed the First Order fleet to track targets through hyperspace ! So, if you dare question his competence as a First Order member ? Then, I invite you all to question your own judgment and investment to the new order !" She declared loudly and all the faces turned towards her in shock and she scrutinised each of them with a glare.

General Hux listened to JR-6025 and bit back a smile as no one dared to object. He knew he ought to stop letting her make a fool of herself—but he was too stunned and happy to care. He was enjoying thoroughly the way the other members all fell silent in front of the girl—the only one who he had ever heard stood up for him. Supreme Leader Snoke had always favoured Kylo and he had never felt good enough…but she had changed his perspective just by speaking her truth.

General Hux couldn’t help but be stunned by her declaration. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop smiling at how proud he felt towards her. General Hux watched as everyone fell silent and was actually shocked at this small stormtrooper standing up for him and making them all look foolish. General Hux was completely taken aback by this but at the same time he was incredibly proud of Jr-6025 for standing up for him like this. General Hux could clearly feel this attachment to her growing.

JR-6025 turned to face Hux once more, chin held high in defiance of all whispered slights. For a long moment their eyes held, an unspoken understanding passing between them amid the throng of onlookers frozen in shocked silence.

At last, Hux spoke, voice ringing cold and clear. "You have all witnessed trooper JR-6025's...fervent defense of my character and achievements. I expect any further disparaging remarks to be weighed...carefully, lest one find themselves sharing her candor."

A hush fell as his meaning chilled the sweltering air. Satisfied, Hux nodded dismissal, offering JR-6025 his arm once more. As they turned to circulate, he continued in lower tones:

"I thought I had made myself clear on your role that was to remain discreet and let me do the talking ?"

"I apologise, sir." She seemed genuinely ashamed as she lowered her head and General Hux chuckled.

"Hmm…No need." He replied before pulling her closer to whisper in her ear. "I’d take hearing you singing my praises over hearing one more platitude from any of them any day. I would however hate to see your own light dimmed by their venomous words…"

She met his gaze steadily. "There are greater risks than idle gossip, sir. And no star shines alone…Together, our light may eclipse all others."

A half-smile quirked his severe lips, approval and something more kindling unseen in pale eyes. "Ever the idealist, I see. We shall see if optimism serves where cynicism and strategy have...limitations. For now, circulate—but remain vigilant. Where vultures gather, carrion may not be far..."

Hux then swept onwards to mingle, leaving JR-6025 to contemplate deeper mysteries than any festive frivolity held.

She then proceeded to look around and let her ears catch onto any piece of information regarding the missing scavenger girl. If she was to hear of any clues concerning her whereabouts, they she could maybe use it to gain general Hux’s trust further without having to condemn Rey or Finn ? She hoped so anyway…JR-6025 circulated discreetly through the lavish festivities, discreetly gathering whispers and fragments amid gilded revelries. More and more, her sharp mind perceived subtleties in each dance of information, discerning truths obscures by artifice and agenda.

A scrap here, an inference there—slowly, clues accumulated. Through it all, her keen eyes followed General Hux across the glittering scene, observing with newfound understanding how he wielded calculation and charisma to subtle yet inexorable effect. Power, she learned, held many faces—and where best concealed, its grasp proved deepest.

At last, mingling brought reward. A passing dignitary, lubricated by libations, let slip cryptic word of Resistance missions targeting the Atzerri system. Piecing scraps within her processor's vault, hope kindled—if confirmed, this may aid the Finalizer's hunt while bolstering her standing with General Hux.

Sequestering her newfound knowledge, JR-6025 emerged renewed into the festive swells, circulating with poise and patience. Calculating eyes sought out General Hux, discreetly catching his notice amid social maneuvers. A subtle inclination of her mask conveyed her readiness, and promise, to impart discovery that may shift the tides of their looming conflict. For now, intimations would suffice—for the dance had only begun.

She was about to go to him when she saw him being surrounded by women. One in particular took General Hux’s hand and they started dancing together. JR-6025 was stunned by how flawless and graceful he seemed.

She didn’t even know that general Hux could dance…

JR-6025 observed the scene impassively from behind her mask, betraying no reaction. Over a lifetime's programming, she had learned much about controlling outward expressions that might endanger duty or mission objectives.

Yet within, unfamiliar stirrings arose as she watched the General glide effortlessly across the gleaming floor, every movement a precision calculation in itself. No movement was without purpose, just as each word he spoke held layers of meaning for perceptive ears. Nearing the dance floor's edge as the song swelled, she awaited her moment. When at last the pair spun gracefully past, she inclined her head slightly to catch the General's eyes.

A subtle gesture, yet one carrying her usual message—an opportunity had emerged, if he was ready to seize it. Duty before pleasure, as always. His own head bent almost imperceptibly in response—the barest signal her information was received, and invitation understood.

Soon. For now, the games of politics and pleasure continued apace. But whenever the music ended, JR-6025 would be waiting to share what secrets she had gleaned this evening. There, duty would resume its rightful place once more. She spotted him while dancing with the other woman and inclined her head discreetly to catch his eyes. He seemed to have noticed and given a subtle response. She smiled beneath her mask and waited respectfully for him to be done.

Soon enough, the song ended and everyone politely clapped. General Hux bowed to the woman who curtsied back and headed towards her companions. General Hux then briskly walked towards JR-6025’s direction looking determined.

She stood up straight as he approached.

"Sir. I believe I have obtained valuable intelligence during the evening."

General Hux walked directly towards JR-6025 with purpose, leaving his dance partner behind. Reaching her position discreetly along the perimeter, his eyes gleamed with keen interest behind customary stoicism.

"You have proven yourself a quick study in more than just battle, it seems," he murmured, the barest note of approval in his aloof tone. "Proceed."

JR-6025 proceeded to relay to him in hushed yet concise tones all that her diligent ears had heard—fragments overheard, locations matched to past intel, possibilities extrapolated. Her delivery remained dutifully calm and factual, yet an undercurrent of excitement threaded her words. This was why she had come, after all—to prove value beyond dance floors or decorum. To advance their cause through vigilance and ingenuity.

Her report delivered efficiently. Now she awaited her next task, ready to mobilize on his command.

He finally nodded.

"Alright, trooper. Well done. Continue your search and find as much information you can on the whereabouts of the scavenger girl and FN-2187. I shall gather intelligence of my own in the mean time."

JR-6025 snapped a crisp salute. "Yes sir, right away."

Her circumspect scanning of the festivities had already begun identifying useful contacts for further interrogation. A senior port authority with knowledge of lesser-charted routes, perhaps, or a mining consortium leader prone to loose lips after drinks.

Turning to depart on her new directive, some instinct made her pause and glance back. So many people dancing together. So many with graceful movements and delicate limbs perfectly matched or in sync with each other…Her eyes then landed on General Hux—watching over the crowd with sharp and attentive eyes.

Would he indulge her the fancy of a dance ? She wondered before shaking her head.

Ridiculous, of course. Sentiment had no place in their climbing ascension. Still, as when storm clouds shift unseen on the horizon, something intangible stirred within her. Shaking off such frivolities, JR-6025 melted back into the glittering horde. Her mission was clear: gather all intelligence that may shift the tide of war. Onward she glided through the crowds and rooms alike, an invisible ghost gathering secrets in service of a so-called far greater purpose. For the dawn of Order Absolute…until she had the unfortunate fate of brushing past a man whose hand quickly reached out for her arm.

JR-6025 stiffened as the man's meaty fingers closed around her slender wrist in an unyielding grip. "Unhand me at once," she demanded coldly, meeting his bulbous eyes with a venomous glare beneath her mask.

"Feisty, aren't you ?" he chuckled, bowing closer to leer amid cloying puffs of spice-laden breath. "Come now, a dance won't hurt, pretty."

JR-6025's blood ran cold as the man's grip tightened painfully. But before retaliation could come, a booming voice cut through the fray.

"Unhand her. Now."

The intruder flinched visibly at the ominous modified tones. Slowly, he turned to face the towering masked figure that was Kylo Ren, flanked by shadowy knights.

"L-Lord Ren, I meant no disrespect," the fool stammered, releasing JR-6025's wrist as if burnt. "A dance, nothing more, I swear—"

Ren's mechanical rasp cut him short. "Your sworn word is worthless, worm. Consider yourself fortunate I do not end you where you stand." A twitch of fingers, and the man gasped, clawing at his throat as invisible bonds constricted.

"Leave. And pray we do not cross paths again." As the blue-faced offender fled, Ren turned to JR-6025, looming over her diminished form. Behind his mask, keen eyes scanned for injury past rigid composure.

"You were wise to decline such degraded company, trooper," he growled. "But in future, do not hesitate to end scum yourself, if left no other option. Now go—I am sure your esteemed general awaits your return."

Before he could go, JR-6025 suddenly had the foolish and absurd urge to ask:

"Sir…I hate to ask but, do you know how to dance ?"

Ren froze mid-step at her unexpected question, coils of cape swirling about his armored form. Slowly, he turned to face her, unseen brows knitting beneath angular mask.

"You question my knowledge, trooper ?" The vocoder imbued even casual speech with menace, yet she sensed no active threat in his posture. Merely...curiosity.

Steeling herself, JR-6025 met his masked gaze evenly. "Dancing requires skill beyond combat, sir. As one familiar with passion's many forms, I surmised you might possess such...nuanced understanding."

For a long moment he regarded her in silence, weighing indignation and grudging respect in turn. At last, his wide shoulders dropped subtly from their battle-ready line.

"You presume much, yet not without reason, it seems." Gloved hands lifted in placating gesture. "I was trained in diplomacy's subtler arts as well, in a past I no longer claim. The steps remain, though the heart which moved them is...altered, let us say."

He extended a hand, mechanical voice softening marginally. "I take it you wished a lesson, then, trooper ? To deal more capably with such...importunities as you faced, should they arise again ?"

JR-6025 eyed the proffered hand, considering. Then, steeling herself once more, she placed her slender fingers within his leather-clad grasp.

"I am yours to instruct, Master Ren."

And so, in a secluded alcove far from prying eyes, their strange duet began.

Ren wrapped an armored hand gently around her waist, guiding her palm to rest upon his other gloved one, holding it aloft. "Relax. I will lead—follow my steps, and let the rhythm guide you."

At first JR-6025 was stiff, limbs feeling mechanical as her polished boot pressed back against his in the opening movement. But as the dance began in slow circles, his sure grip and the music's sway helped loosen her paralysis.

"Good. Breathe, and feel how I shift my weight to turn. Anticipate, do not react." His vocoder rumbled low encouragement as she began to glide with more practiced grace. Soon their measured paces flowed as one, JR-6025 losing herself in the dance. Her silver mask tilted up to meet his obscured one, sensing an intimacy beneath plates of transparisteel and durasteel which words could not adequately name.

"You learn quickly, for one untutored in the ways of society." Ren's growl belied an approving note. "Let passion inform your form, yet do not be ruled by it. Control stems from within; power means little without mastery of the self."

His lessons in dance held deeper metaphysical lessons, JR-6025 comprehended. As the music swelled towards climax, so too did a recognition pass between them—of kindred spirits seeking answers beyond what others deemed acceptable. The last notes faded, and they slowed in each other's arms, breathing hard. As the music faded, JR-6025 became acutely aware of how closely she was still held in Ren's grasp. Stepping back, she bowed her head respectfully.

"You are a master indeed, Lord Ren. I am... grateful, for this knowledge you have shared."

His vocoder buzzed cryptically. "Think nothing of it, trooper. Your...inquisitiveness, intrigues me." One leathered finger tilted her chin up to meet his obscured gaze once more. "There is darkness in you, barely tapped. With proper... cultivation, who knows what wonders might bloom."

She shuddered beneath his caress, sensing invitation—and peril—in his enigmatic words. This was not the comfort of familiar duty, but a plunge into unfathomable deeps.

"I live to serve the First Order," was all she said finally, as noncommittally as possible.

Ren straightened to his full, menacing height once more. "For now. But forces stir beyond mere politics and warfare, trooper. Keep your senses attuned. The night holds many mysteries...as do I."

"What mysteries do you conceal I wonder ?" She couldn’t help but smile cheekily and Ren's hulking form loomed over the diminutive trooper, aura darkening at her audacity. Yet within his vocoder, a hint of sardonic amusement thrummed.

"Mysteries enough to chill lesser souls to the core, trooper. Dark powers dwell within this galaxy's shadow places from which even I am not immune." His fingers twitched, as if longing to call those powers forth and demonstrate their potency. But restraint held reign, for now.

"As for what mysteries I conceal…" Heavy boots carried him into a slow prowl around her stationary form, obscuring mask gazing down intently. "Let us just say the darkness I command holds insight into energies long banned by the so-called Light. Powers that could transform one such as yourself from pawn to player upon the grand chessboard…"

Gloved hands emerged from beneath swathing robes to hover a hairsbreadth from her slight shoulders. Her every muscle tensed yet held fast, awaiting his next move with wary curiosity.

"Reveal to me, trooper—do you hunger for true strength, beyond what your master deign allow ? To wield abilities none other can claim, and walk free of restraint ?"

His vocoder now whispered sibilant promise dire and sweet.

"Me ? And what sort of darkness do you see in me, Lord Rem ?

Ren's helmet tilted, analyzing her challenge. His leathered grip tightened minutely upon her arm.

"Do not pretend ignorance, JR-6025. I see the rage that simmers beneath your rigid self-control...the hunger for more than this pale imitation of life they have crafted for you. You ache to break free of petty rules and find your true potential."

His vocoder lowered to a rumbling whisper. "I can teach you to embrace that darkness, not fear it. With me, you would command far more than mere trooper legions. Worlds would bend to our power. Does that not stir your blood, little soldier ?"

His free hand drifted to her masked cheek in a mockery of caress. "Let go your restraints, your manufactured purpose, and feel what it is to be truly free. Power. Passion. Purpose of your own devising, without limit. I can make you a god among these insects. All that I ask..."

His mask drew close, until she could feel its chill against her own. "Is that you pledge yourself to me. Body and soul, to do with as I will. Say you will be mine, JR-6025. And I will teach you things none in this galaxy comprehend."

Behind her mask, JR-6025's breath came short and fast.

"It is…a very tempting offer. But, I am afraid my loyalty is to the First Order. And General Hux." She smiled apologetically. "Besides, do not waste your time with a stormtrooper, Lord Kylo Ren. There is truly nothing special about me. I have absolutely no connection to the Force or the mysteries of the Universe."

Ren's masked helmet drew back sharply, as if struck. For a long moment he said nothing, armor creaking as gloved fists clenched and unclenched in palpable frustration.

Then his vocoder crackled coldly. "Do not presume to judge your worth, trooper. The Force flows through all living things—its currents merely lay dormant in the uninitiated. I sense your potential far exceeds such meager titles or duties."

One leathered finger jabbed accusingly against her mask. "You fear to seize your destiny, clinging instead to the meaningless scraps he deems your purpose. But you and I both know the true hunger that gnaws within—for revelation, supremacy, purpose beyond anything these political puppets could understand…"

His hand fell upon her shoulder in a crushing grip, mask drawing close once more. "Deny your nature at your peril, JR-6025. I offer the galaxy itself—surely a fleeting infatuation or hollow sense of duty cannot compare ? Come. Let me ignite the fires within you, and you will see how paltry such loyalties seem beside true power."

The magnetism of his words was almost impossible to resist, darkness a tantalizing siren call. At the same time, her duty held irresistible obligation...Conflict raged within, as Kylo Ren's grip seemed to physically manifest invisible bonds now straining. What path would she choose, when duty and destiny collided so ? In that agonizing moment of suspended choice, Ren knew he had found a kindred spirit indeed. One who understood viscerally the war between light and shadow within. Now was the time to press his advantage, bend her will to the service of a power greater than any mere ideology...

Suddenly, she felt a presence beside her and looked back to see none other than General Hux. He gave Kylo Ren a tight-lipped smile before putting a hand on JR-6025’s shoulder.

"May I have my plus one back, Ren ?"

Ren's cold gaze turned to regard the newcomer, rage smoldering behind circuits at the interruption. But Hux met his shrouded gaze fearlessly, hand squeezed almost imperceptibly upon JR-6025's shoulder in a gesture of both claim and comfort. For a long moment the Dark warrior and General faced off in tense standoff, wills locked in battle as potent as any physical clash. Ren sensed his prize slipping away, the void within crying out for completion of his gift to awaken her true power.

But Hux had seized upon the most effective tool to counter the knight's sorcery—simple, immutable duty. His presence anchored JR-6025's conflicted spirit once more in obligations Ren could not so easily sever with mere words alone.

At last Ren's vocoder crackled contemptuously. "For now, General. But this is not over. The spark has been lit, and I shall fan its flames until they consume all else. She belongs to powers you cannot begin to grasp."

With that veiled portent he swept away. Leaving Hux and JR-6025 locked in a silence far heavier than before Ren's intercession, duty and destiny's war made viscerally manifest in their very souls. JR-6025 shuddered as Kylo Ren's ominous words echoed in her mind. His vision of infinite power had almost tempted her to renounce all else. But now, anchored once more in duty by the General's steadying grip, clarity slowly returned.

Her place was here, serving the Order to which she had pledged her life. More than that—Hux had shown her kindness, respect, seen her potential when others saw only a number. To abandon that, for the shadowy allure of the dark side, went against her core. Yet Ren's words retained an insidious ring; his insights into her true nature unnerved in their accuracy.

Hux offered JR-6025 his arm calmly, ever the paragon of rigid self-control. But when she took it, fingers wrapped his armored wrist instead, as if to reassure herself of anchor amid the tempest loosed this fateful night.

JR-6025 smiled behind her mask as she took Hux's leather-clad hand in her own. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, general Hux ?"

His answering smirk held a familiar note of cunning amid cool detachment, a spark stirring in icy eyes as he drew her close. "Very well, trooper. But, I must warn you. I have little patience for fumbled footsteps upon such important occasions as these."

She met his challenging gaze steadily. "You'll find I am a quick study, sir, and hope not to disappoint." As the music began in drifting swells, JR-6025 allowed herself to follow Hux's graceful lead with growing confidence.

Each turn and step flowed smoothly as they glided across the gleaming floor, the perfect picture of coordination and command. But beneath the dutiful rhythm, JR-6025 sensed lingering turbulence from Ren's provocative encounter.

Leaning closer to Hux's angular jaw, she murmured where only he could hear, "My place remains at your side, General, as it has always been. Your guidance alone do I heed."

His pale eyes flickered down to meet her obscured gaze, a flicker of something—approval ? possessiveness ?—kindling in their icy depths. "See that it remains so, trooper. Your...talents, would be wasted following that wayward fool into darkness."

As the dance carried them on, JR-6025 sensed an unspoken belonging reinforced in Hux's firm yet respectful grip. Whatever mysteries the night held, for now duty and a will stronger than shadow's siren call would be her anchors in the light. As the music swelled towards its crescendo, JR-6025 became keenly aware of how closely she and Hux now moved in their waltz, bodies melding with practiced synchronicity.

His sure grip radiated palpable strength, daring her to match his poise and precision through the dance's most intricate maneuvers. Sweat sheened their brows, yet never for an instant did composure or control falter. At last the final notes rang out across the gleaming hall in a vibrating echo, leaving them breathless yet standing proud as the sole occupants of a bubble apart from polite applause. Chest to chest they paused, regarding one another in that surreal interlude suspended from reality's constraints.

"You acquitted yourself admirably, as I knew you would. Let no mongrel words divide what is mine, is that understood…trooper ?" His soft rasp held veiled threat that sent a shiver down her spine, even as a flush of fierce belonging replaced conflict within her heart.

JR-6025 nodded, lips curving behind her mask in a subtle smile. "Crystal clear, general. I belong at your side—now and always."

The General's sculpted lips curled at her affirmation, a glint of primitive satisfaction lighting icy eyes. "As well you should remember, my resourceful trooper."

His arms withdrew reluctantly as their private moment ended, duty calling them back into the glittering throng. But some subtle shift had occurred, resonance of a deeper bond beyond mere ranks and titles stirring in their united souls. Ren's seductive shadow-call now seemed distant, obscuring memories of who and what she was: a tool of Order, forged in rigid discipline yet nurturing sparks of more within. Loyalty and finding belonging mattered most. With Hux's discerning eye to hone her talents, who knew the heights attainable ? For now honing skills and learning all she could from him fulfilled deepest drives for meaning and mastery.

Thus resolved, JR-6025 proceeded the rest of the evening as Hux's shadow; observing, listening, learning from each subtly waged interaction the finer points of dominating through guile and demonstrating one's mettle. Subtly too she noted who among the Order's elite seemed most valued—or viewed with disdain and distrust. Information was power, after all, in this nest of aspiring avians and lurking serpents.

"I will continue my mission—if you’d allow me ?" She asked general Hux who smiled and nodded.

"Go."

She nodded before going near the buffet and General Hux stayed behind, his eyes lingering on her. He smiled and then, a voice made itself heard next to him.

"So…It seems you also brought a stormtrooper as your plus one, General Hux ?" He heard a familiar voice say behind him and didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice continued.

"Captain Phasma." He acknowledged.

"General Hux." She acknowledged back and smiled. "Rather impressive. She succeeded in making all of those who hate you hate you a little less…"

General Hux quickly turned towards Phasma with a subtle grin on his face. He was enjoying the fact that his plus one had managed to impress everyone in the room as well. General Hux was hoping that she would be able to keep up the same energy throughout the party. General Hux was feeling more and more attached to JR-6025 at what he perceived as being a successful appearance.

General Hux gave Phasma a subtle smile in response and spoke.

"Indeed she has. She has managed to impress all of us, not just me. It seems like I made the right choice when I decided to bring her with me tonight."

Captain Phasma nodded and smiled back.

"…I know this stormtrooper. She fought with me on Takodana rather valiantly. And yet, I heard that you had made sure she doesn’t get a promotion. Too bad. She seemed to have all the qualities required to become a great sergeant…unless you have ulterior motives—of course." Captain Phasma glanced at him knowingly.

General Hux’s smile faded when Phasma brought up the notion that he had ulterior motives towards JR-6025. She seemed to be perceptive enough to figure out there was something else going on and she even pointed out that he was keeping any potential promotion away from JR-6025. General Hux was still feeling a little bit proud because of her recognised bravery, but this comment by Phasma had caught his attention and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to let her find anything out.

General Hux remained silent for a few moments and was thinking of the best way to respond without giving too much away. General Hux had to deny what she was saying because she was beginning to get a little too close to the truth. General Hux didn’t like the idea that his plans may be discovered or that he was being so transparent. General Hux was beginning to realize that Phasma was quite observant and he had to come up with a response that would not make it seem like he had something to hide.

General Hux gave out a fake laugh as he spoke.

"You have quite an imagination, Captain Phasma. How ridiculous for you to assume just because she was so brave and intelligent on the field that I must have some ulterior motive in not promoting her. I am simply making sure that she remains focused on her duties within the First Order. She is just a simple stormtrooper and I know it would be too much to throw promotion too early. It’s always too easy to be seduced by power and I would not want that to happen to her."

"Right." Captain Phasma had a small amused smile playing on her lips. "So thoughtful of you, general."

General Hux tried to let out a little chuckle. He knew that Phasma could see through this charade, but he was too proud to admit anything. He was feeling a little irritated because it felt like she saw right through him. General Hux was starting to wonder if he may be too transparent and too vulnerable with Phasma here. General Hux was trying to keep his cool when he spoke back to her.

General Hux continued with his charade as he replied back.

"Exactly. My focus is making sure that she remains level headed and focused on her duties."

"Oh yes. I am quite sure your intentions are in perfect alignment with the ones of the First Order. But, are you sure that the reason you are refusing JR-6025 a promotion isn’t because of…more personal reasons ?" Captain Phasma kept a knowing smile on her face as she looked at him once more.

General Hux couldn’t help but chuckle at her statement. She was getting way too close to the truth.

"How ridiculous of you to assume there is anything personal between JR-6025 and I. I simply am choosing to not promote her at this time because I believe she is still too inexperienced. You would want your soldiers to be level-headed and aware no ?"

"Of course, sir." She grinned as she brought a glass of champagne to her lips. "How ridiculous indeed…"

General Hux remained calm to not betray any emotion on his face. He was still trying to play it off as if he was being nothing but truthful. Captain Phasma was really beginning to make him feel nervous. General Hux tried not to let her affect him. But she was getting way too close to the truth. General Hux had to think of a good counter for what she was saying to keep the charade going. General Hux spoke back.

"Perhaps you feel you know better than I who should deserve a promotion in the First Order ?"

That seemed to make Phasma reconsider her direct approach.

"I would never assume to be any better than you are at your job, sir. I have the utmost respect for you. But…" Her smile faltered for a second "…does JR-6025 know ?"

General Hux’s anxiety seemed to increase as the conversation was going on. She was coming dangerously close to discovering his true intentions regarding JR-6025. General Hux tried to keep his calm and spoke in a low tone.

"What do you mean ? Know what ?"

Phasma suddenly lost her smile as she looked down at Hux—reminding him suddenly of their height difference.

"Does JR-6025 know that she is no longer First Order property—but yours exclusively ?"

General Hux suddenly froze. His breathing was fastened from the shock of her question and his heart was beating fast from this situation. General Hux looked deeply into Phasma’s eyes. Phasma was quite perceptive which is what made her so deadly. General Hux had to watch what he said at this point.

"Do not bring up any absurd conclusions like that. JR-6025 is not my personal property. That would be absurd."

"Is that so ?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Forgive me. I must have been misinformed then."

General Hux tried to play it off with a subtle grin as he responded.

"We all make mistakes. I assure you that this is indeed one of those times where you are just misinterpreting the situation. JR-6025 is by no means my personal property. She is just a simple stormtrooper that I have chosen to bring with me tonight. There is nothing to read into this situation beyond that."

"Of course…" Captain Phasma chuckled. "Then if anyone would take her away from you, it wouldn’t bother you one bit, would it ?"

General Hux’s heart started to beat even faster in his chest as she asked that question. He was very afraid that she had actually read between the lines. General Hux had to be very careful with how he responded. General Hux would not let anyone take Jr-6025 away from him. But he was also trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Why don’t we stop assuming things, Captain Phasma. There is nothing personal between myself and Jr-6025—" General Hux could not even finish that sentence.

"Come on, general. Your eyes haven’t left her since the moment you both walked in. You barely give me a glance every morning, and I may be the closest to an ally you have within the First Order." She smirked.

General Hux was not expecting that she would make this observation. Was General Hux really becoming too attached ? Why was this bothering him so much ? He felt completely off and he was starting to lose his cool.

"How ridiculous. I cannot look away for a moment without you making assumptions."

Captain Phasma chuckled.

"I am merely stating facts. Your eyes haven’t left her. Not for one second. Well, until I arrived anyway." Again General Hux felt all of his anxiety build as he realized how transparent he was becoming. He was aware of the fact that he had been staring at Jr-6025 all night long, not wanting to miss a single second of her. He also felt a wave of anger and annoyance build as she kept pointing out things that he did not want her to point out. General Hux decided he needed to turn this around somehow. General Hux was silent for a bit, deciding what to say next. It was clear that Phasma was getting under his skin and he wanted to try and turn this whole thing around. General Hux wanted to gain the upper hand again. He looked straight at her and tried to speak in a very composed way.

"My eyes haven’t left her because I was simply observing her behavior here. I need to make sure that she behaves herself and doesn’t do anything embarrassing here tonight. That is all."

"Ah. Of course." Phasma hummed—unconvinced. She then gave the room a quick glance and realised that…you were nowhere on sight. "Then, I am sorry to inform you that your plan has failed and your little stormtrooper is nowhere in sight."

General Hux felt a sudden urge to panic. He was now aware of the fact that JR-6025 had disappeared and he had no idea where. He was unsure of how long she had been gone and General Hux looked around quickly to try and find her but all he saw was Phasma with a smug smile on her face. General Hux felt that she had set him up and he quickly spoke to her.

"Where is she ? Where is JR-6025 ?"

Captain Phasma shrugged.

"She left towards the gardens. A few minutes ago."

General Hux felt his pulse spike at Phasma's words. After their charged dance, he hadn't meant to lose sight of JR-6025, yet here he was—played for a fool in front of his own subordinate. Quelling a scowl, Hux squared his shoulders coolly. "Thank you, Captain. I should attend to my..." He caught himself just in time, aware of Phasma's mocking stare. "...to ensuring proper protocol is maintained. Enjoy the festivities."

He exited briskly, abandoning Phasma's insolent smirk for the solace of the crystalline gardens. Their scintillating blooms soon led him to a shadowed alcove, and a figure swathed in moonlit silver.

JR-6025 stood pensively among fragrant clusters, seemingly lost to thought. At the crunch of his boots on gravel, her helmeted head turned swiftly. "General ! I did not mean to abscond, I only wished a breath of air after—"

Hux raised a gloved hand, forestalling excuses. "Think nothing of it, trooper. I merely wished to..." He trailed off, momentarily at a loss beneath her visored gaze. Stepping closer, he resumed softly, "To ensure you found this place...as relaxing a respite as I." His fingers traced the petals of a glittering hyperflora, eyes following their delicate contours. "Phasma's taunts know no bounds, it seems. But here, we need not face such insolence."

She chuckled.

"Captain Phasma is an excellent captain. She has saved me and my comrades many times…"

A wry smile curled Hux's thin lips at JR-6025's response. "That she is, though it seems her skill at command extends also to...needling vulnerabilities, where she senses them."

His pale eyes gleamed with cool purpose once more as gloved thumbs massaged her plated palms affectionately. "Make no mistake, I respect Phasma's prowess immensely. But here, now, there is a...higher authority whose favor I seek."

JR-6025 tilted her masked face inquisitively towards the General as he caressed her plating in a clandestine gesture most unlike protocol. Yet his intentions sparked no alarm within her, only intrigue towards nuances beyond codes she'd been crafted to comprehend until now.

"Phasma sees much, as befits a commanding officer," she ventured softly. "But perhaps some things evade even her keen sight." Lithe fingers wound gently through his in reciprocation, testing boundaries both craved yet feared in equal measure.

"Your vision, sir, encompasses far more than mere strategy. Each lesson you share expands the possibilities of what I might achieve." Eyes flared with earnest longing to justify his faith where others saw but a disposable toy soldier. "My purpose remains to serve—yet also to evolve under your discerning tutelage into something…"

She trailed off, sensing dangerous currents in words left unsaid. Around them blooms swayed languid as perfumed sighs upon the whispering breeze, dappling moonlight across their clandestine congress. Out there conspiracy brewed, but in this bowered cocoon another power held fuller sway.

His hands prowled the intimate mysteries of her form with sensual care. "Let go rigidity's chill grasp, feel the imperative fire your potential hints at—and become the revelation I foresee." Lips grazed the chill of her mask where a flush of understanding might bloom. "Dare to evolve, JR-6025. Become mine. "

JR-6025's breath came short, mind racing at the implications behind General Hux's provocative offer. To renounce protocol's rigid grasp and embrace a higher, more intimate purpose under his singular tutelage—the prospect both terrified and exhilarated in its audacity.

Meeting his piercing stare steadily, she attempted rationale. "Sir, while your faith in my abilities humbles, a trooper's function remains utilitarian. We are but tools to further Order's mission as deemed fitting."

Yet his roaming hands tracing her waist with gentle feather-light touches awakened sensations beyond what she knew, stirring turbulence in her formerly disciplined heart. When had duty's lines blurred so, between this man's charismatic orbit ? Hux smiled, a reptilian gleam of ambition in icy eyes. "Do not think to instruct me on what is fit, my resourceful trooper. I alone determine Order's designs, as I do yours." Gloved fingers lingered beneath her chin commandingly.

"Deny if you must. But, I see potential begging to be found…" His intensity ignited answers to questions she'd not known to ask. In the gardens—away from prying eyes—she felt…more.

Softly, borrowing his courage, she replied. "Then guide me, General, to walk new paths of understanding. I would…evolve, under your hand."

In Hux, Order. In Order, destiny. And in destiny…Two sapphires burning bright…The eyes of general Hux filled with ambition and unfulfilled purpose. General Hux regarded his loyal protege, unspoken understanding flaring between them. Few dared match his will and vision with such acuity, let alone offer soul's depths to shape as clay.

"Well spoken, soldier," Hux murmured approval. "Your dedication to Order's ascension heartens."

For a lingering moment they remained, breaths mingling intimately behind twin barriers. Both wearing masks. Yet duty remained. With evident reluctance, Hux withdrew. "Come, JR-6025. I believe we have much to do…"

JR-6025 slipped from the blossom-berved bower's lush confines to fall in step beside General Hux as they began the return to gleaming corridors where duty waited.

Yet for moments lingering, some hidden tendril of sentiment curled warm in her core recalling how his eyes had glimmered upon her, seeing promise of greater things to be. Though duty called them each to solemn purpose, in that private grove another truth had flowered, bright as the glitterflora.

"General." She kept her tone level, professional despite fleeting fancies. "My purpose remains to the Order. Its perpetuation and betterment are the sole objects worthy aim. If through your direction I may evolve to more fully realizing such goals, no reservation shall I harbor."

A respectful distance separated them as befit rankings, yet she risked a glance aside.

"Your vision gives shape to our collective destiny, General. Where it leads I shall follow, without hesitation or doubt." Gloved hands folded at the small of her back, she straightened proudly. "My skills are at your full disposal. Command me as best furthers our righteous cause."

General Hux hummed before asking JR-6025:

"Indeed, trooper. Now, tell me…What intelligence did you manage to gather ?"

JR-6025 nodded shortly.

"Very well, sir. I believe the enemy is hiding in the Atzerri system. I have done my research and we recently received a message from one of our spies there who claimed to have some potential leads, General. Names and last known locations of suspected Resistance collaborators to interrogate."

A satisfied smile crept onto Hux's pale features.

"Excellent. We shall meet with our operative and have them give us the full intelligence package. It's time I took a more...personal role in the search."

He looked to JR-6025 expectedly. "And you, Trooper, will accompany me on this mission. I have a feeling your unique skills will prove most useful as we extract whatever secrets may lead us to our enemies."

She nodded.

"Yes, sir. I’ll do my best to help you and the First Order."

A traces of a smirk played at Hux's pale lips. "Well spoken, as always. Your loyalty will not go unrewarded, trooper. Now, prepare yourself—we leave for the Atzerri system tonight. Just after the end of the gathering."

JR-6025 nodded and took her leave, hoping her methods would continue guiding them both toward restoring peace through understanding, not just vengeance. Time would tell what secrets awaited them in the stars ahead.

But part of her wondered what secrets this far-flung system might yet unveil. And what path her partnership with the enigmatic General Hux would forge. His methods were severe, yet she sensed in him a deeper wisdom that could guide them to lasting victory without needless bloodshed.

Her thoughts wandered to the cryptic words of Kylo Ren, warning of Hux's supposed deceit. She couldn't make sense of his intent—was it a power play to undermine command, or did lingering gratitude for her saving his life prompt genuine concern ?

Either way, she trusted her own intuition above the anarchic ramblings of an unstable force user. Hux had proved himself a strategist who valued duty and discipline above all. Together, their coordinated skills could piece together the map to Skywalker and crush the Rebellion at last. Her thoughts returned to FN-2187 and she sighed.

She hoped that he would be far away from Atzerri.

Zipping her bag closed in her room and leaving the fancy outfit on the bed, JR-6025 rose with purpose and headed for the shuttle bays. A new chapter in the war was unfolding. JR-6025 strode with fluid grace toward the gleaming hangar bay where General Hux's shuttle awaited. Though purpose sang keen through her enhanced veins, hidden currents eddied in recesses of her refined mind.

Ren's ominous words still lingered, shade amid the harsh glow of duty. She trusted Hux's vision, his strategic acumen and dedication to the Order's righteous cause. In him she sensed a guiding intellect that could steer them to victory through coordinated effort, not wanton brutality.

Yet doubt nagged at reasons behind Kylo's warning—was it truly spawned from instability alone ? Ren claimed to see deeper verities than most, though obscured by passion's tempestuous tides. And Hux himself remained an enigma, calculating eyes betraying depths beyond what met the gaze. As she marched past sleek TIE fighters toward the shuttle's lowered ramp, JR-6025 paused. Gaze drawn upward through viewports to endless night skies strewn with distant worlds, reflections stirred.

Out there amid the stars' chorus of mysteries lay answers to the war rending the galaxy. Sought both as prizes of conquest and balms for the conflicted soul. She would see this mission through with Hux, have faith in his objectives aligning with the greater peace she envisioned.

On the edges of perception, tantalizing futures flickered—lives rewoven across parsecs under compassion's weaving hand, bloody strife redeemed to purpose higher. All hung in the balance of each moment's choices. With steadied breath, she turned to face her fate, whatever secrets the shuttle's hold might birthetch aboard.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #star wars #general hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #armitage hux

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bnhaobservation · 8 months

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I accepted that Enji will get his redemption and forgiveness(even if he doesn’t f*king deserve it) but I can’t accept that he will have no punishment for all he did while his oldest son is going to jail for the rest of his life.

Like, I get they committed different crimes but both of them should pay. It only shows that as long as you are a hero you get second chances and a lot of support while villains are forgotten forever.

Well…

…there's something which plays in Enji's favour here and it's not the fact he's a hero but how Japanese law is.

I'm by no means an expert but, from what I know, for start Japanese law does not explicitly provide for domestic violence in terms of prosecutorial considerations, so one should try charging for assault and/or injury.

Another interesting thing is that the Japanese police are not obliged to investigate when an incident is reported.

Rei doesn't even press charges for the abuse she and Shouto received, nor for the neglect her other children suffered.

Touya reported Shouto's abuse and the neglect he received, but he did it on the national television (sort of, as they hijacked it) and not by the official channels and, anyway the police can shrug the report off because they aren't obliged to investigate, and this regardless of Enji being a hero or not.

There's also to point out Touya doesn't offer evidence beyond any reasonable doubt (he would need, for example, a medical certificate proving Shouto's injuries), it's just his word of what he observed as a child, but, not only his credibility is compromised by how he's a Villain accusing a Hero, but also by how he was a child at the time.

In Japan children can testify but their credibility is often put into discussion because they 'might not have remembered correctly or not have understood what happened'.

Oddly enough Touya didn't mention the abuse his mother received, which I always found weird (why not to dig the knife in Endeavor deeper? did he not know his mother got beated? true, he's never shown around when it happens but… or did Horikoshi forgot about ti when he wrote 'Dabi's dance'?).

I mean, Rei was hospitalized for a mental breakdown, and I don't know if this would require her being checking her physical state in Japan (so maybe there's no medical certificate testifying her abuse) but, considering how the doctors know it's better if she doesn't meet Enji and how she probably had to explain why she assaulted her son, it would be easier to prove Enji's intention of wanting to assault Rei than Shouto.

In fact, as said before, children have little credibility, and even though Touya is an adult now, he's describing what he witnessed as a child. People could have said he mistook training for abuse or disciplining for abuse… but they couldn't have used the same excuse with Rei.

If he had said 'as a child I saw my father slapping my mother and causing her to fall on the ground multiple times' it would have been harder to think he was mistaken.

Again, the fact he was a child still don't play in his favour and being a Villain accusing a Hero he still has zero credibility and zero evidence, but it's still a more solid accusation than saying he saw his father abusing Shouto.

Ironically, the only evidence Touya has to back up his words is that Enji confirmed them in the press conference.

His family though, is still not interested in pressing charges and the police have already their hands busy enough due to the circumstances they're in, so, even if Enji weren't the Number 1 Hero, they likely wouldn't have investigated him because they had no time.

I'll add also something else in regard to Japanese law.

Although in Japan anyone who has the professional responsibility for the care or treatment of the minor (under 18) has the duty to report if said minor is abused (so Rei, Shouto's grandparents if they knew, people working for Enji as well as Shouto's teachers or the family doctor if they noticed something should have reported Enji), there are no repercussions not reporting child abuse.

And even though Japan has recently revised the abuse prevention law so that it states that parents, foster parents and heads of child welfare centers are banned from physically punishing children while attempting to discipline them there are no penalties for offenders.

"Higurashi no naku koro ni", despite being a horror visual novel (with a manga and an anime transposition) shows how a report of child abuse is handled in Japan. It's said the portrayal is realistic enough because the author also worked as a civil servant in that sector and so he knew what he was talking about.

The abuser in the story is well known by the police, but... basically they do nothing until the whole town raises a fuss.

With all this said, I'm not surprised Enji doesn't get investigated/prosecuted for what he did to his family.

The police has better things to do, there's no evidence and the victims don't press charges.

On another side, in Japan to be on the receiving end of negative public opinion IS A HUGE DEAL, which in some cases might make a person's life impossible.

It's vaguely hinted Touya expects societal repercussions to fall on his father (and his family as well) and not legal ones.

However the story kind of skipped devoting time on them and not so much because they might be a given for Japanese readers but because people in Japan is depicted as more angry at Endeavor for failing to prevent destruction and the escape of the criminals than disgusted for what he did to his family.

In the press conference, even though people wasn't happy he admitted the mistreating of his family (they would have preferred it was something Dabi made up) in the end all they show they cared for was the damage they suffered, it how the Heroes mistakes caused them to lose their beloved ones.

If the people were to ask for the Heroes to be punished, it wouldn't be because Enji abused his family, but because his abuse caused the birth of Dabi who caused them damage as he was among the ones riding Gigantomachia during his rampage.

You might notice Heroes actually don't get a lot of public support... but that's because they are blamed for causing harm to society, not for what Touya exposed they did.

No one really cares about Twice's death or Shouto's abuse, they're just angry because the Heroes failed to put them at ease and take down every Villain.

So yes, I'm with you when you say it's unfair the police is doing nothing for what Enji did to his family, as he caused to them so much damage... but it's not like he doesn't get punished because he enjoys of special privileges... and I'm speculating here but it's possible that Horikoshi is depicting things like this to denounce the situation.

People don't care of how Enji abused his family, police doesn't care, the law doesn't care, but not because he's a Hero but because that's how's things work and this is much worse than them not caring because he's a Hero. It means that they wouldn't care about the abuse Takami or Shimura Kotarou or Himeko's parents committed either, and here we're not talking of a Hero but of a criminal and common people.

But Japanese readers are bound to care, they're bound to remember how poor Shouto was abused, how Touya was neglected to the point of breaking, how Rei was driven to madness.

And maybe the fact that readers will care and will remember will push them to make the difference in the future.

Shonen manga like to teach things to their readers and teaching them abuse his bad and should be stopped is a good teaching.

At least that's what I'm speculating but I might be wrong, of course.

Thank you for your ask!

#Ask #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Rei

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sullustangin · 1 year

Text

Fluffy February Day 9: Breezy

Fandom: SWTOR

Rating: PG

Pairing: the meet-cute between OC Consular and Rass Ordo; established Theron Shan/Smuggler and Akaavi Spar/Mako (mentioned)

Time: immediately after 7.2

Words: 1252

Rass Ordo sat with Torian of Clan Cadera, watching the morning at Odessen pick up speed. Mandalore had needed additional medical treatment after her fight with Heta Kol, and the Captain was the only faction leader Shae Vizla trusted.

“She is aruetyc, but she understands,” Mandalore had explained to Jek and Rass, once. On the Spirit of Vengeance, Rass had gotten to see Captain Corolastor in action. Then, the Captain’s choices on Ruhnok had sealed Rass’s trust in her as well.

( …he might have been a little infatuated with her until her husband showed up to scour the Vengeance for clues. Then Rass learned that anything he might have classified as “flirting” was nothing compared to what she said to Theron. He was thankful for his helmet that day.)

Now, with the stories Torian had about her and the lost Grand Champion, Rass could see why Shae threw her lot in with a smuggler over any other government: Captain Corolastor always delivered.

“You ever think of getting with a non-Mandalorian? If she or he promised to let the kids be raised in the Way?” Rass asked Torian. He didn’t ask because of a specific person. It was… other things. And those things only grew more obvious the more he spent time on Odessen, not strictly among other Mandalorians.

Torian was unflappable. “When I was younger. You know Akaavi of Clan Spar’s partner, Mako?”

“Yeah.”

Torian’s expression had only shifted by a millimeter, but on a stoic like him –

“Sheesh. Really?”

“No hard feelings,” Torian reassured him. “But… they have decided not to raise ade. Spar is content to let the Clan name die with her while serving the greater Mandalorian family. She is… embittered by what other clans have done.”

Torian’s hair was ruffled by the breeze. “I should be. But I am not. Now with the usurper dragging my Clan’s name around the galaxy again –”

Then Torian frowned, deep and terrible, and Rass finally had an inkling of all the anger and rage the guy had in there. But Torian was disciplined – had to have been, to survive this long – and he tamped it down. “I’m caught between two lines of fire. No one respectable would have or help care for my ade, but if I looked for someone outside, I would just prove Clan Cadera’s unworthiness – lack of quality.”

“I could have set you up with my sister Layla, if she was still around. Layla was the best – she would have seen you and not your old man -- ”

The words trailed off, and the two men fell silent, not exactly comfortably.

And that had started Rass’s mental perambulations about who was going to put up with him and his nonsense.

Rass Ordo knew he was cute, but more like puppy dog cute, as Lane had put it. He could always count on her for an honest assessment. Especially after he’d taken a swing – and a hard miss. And Lane seemed to take a bizarre sense of satisfaction out of that – getting him to chase and then ask and then dead cold stop.

Jekiah was old enough – or almost old enough – to be his father. Him asking about how to ‘y’know’ was a conversation he didn’t want to have. Because Rass didn’t need THAT conversation – that was old news, thank his ancestors. (And he was grateful that the encounters were good enough to be unremarkable but not so awesome that he set too high a bar for himself in the future.)

Jek went home to his family and their ade when he could. He fought the war, while his riduur trained them to fight. Once the youngest was done, then they’d all return to fight alongside Jek. Such responsibilities were taken seriously and solemnly –

And it was a good love story for a Mando, for the Ordo Clan, like those that came before him.

He watched Jek work the job, do it so well… and always keep the holo comm open in case a call came from the covert. He always looked so … sad when he went to bed alone, without his riduur, because duty called.

He wanted what Jek had, but…not the weight that went with it.

See, that was Rass’s problem. He liked to tease. He hadn’t lost his ability to joke and get the job done. For a lot of people in the Clans, that was a sign of immaturity. Maybe it was. But Rass didn’t see why the grindy parts of Resol’nare…had to be a grind. Yeah, he could understand how his joking could be seen as indirect and not polite by other Mandalorians.

Layla would have been his go-to for advice in this area; they were closer in age, and she understood his… quirks.

Rass missed her a lot. She had so much potential – more than him, he thought.

Torian decided to spare both of them any continued misery. “Cantina is open – food?”

“Yeah.” As oblivious as Rass seemed to be to other social cues, the invitation to eat was never turned down; it’d be rude to do so.

Rass and Torian were heading into the main base as a shuttle came in for a landing. What stopped them was both Captain Eva Corolastor and Operations Manager (and spymaster) Theron Shan going out to greet it.

“What’s that about?” Rass asked the slightly older man.

“Other end of the holocron investigation. Jetii and dar’Jetii trying to figure out Malgus’ plans,” Torian explained in brief.

He lost Rass’s attention as a massive gust of wind had blown the cloak of the Jetii right over her face. She took the situation in good humor – she was the one laughing first.

Torian recognized the sound: Fria Whitcord, liaison between the Jedi Order and the Alliance and “cultural immersion specialist” as the Jetii called her. She … managed to freshen every room she was in – like a nice breeze.

Not as blustery as the winds today.

Fria was briikase and dral. Even the dar’Jetii Beniko cracked a smile. Once the wind died down, Fria tugged down her cloak to greet Eva and Theron properly, both of them smiling at their old friend.

They’d all known each other on Yavin 4, and as time went on, they all seemed to find each other here on Odessen. Torian knew that made Eva extremely happy

Torian saw Rass’s head tilt. Uh oh.

Theron and Lana were discussing something behind Eva and Fria, who were talking animatedly about where a young Jedi could hide herself in the galaxy.

Before Torian could stop him, Rass had planted himself in front of Eva and Fria. “Hi.”

Before Eva could say anything, Fria had done her job as a cultural immersion specialist: she’d seen the armor, checked the height, recalibrated her stance. She was giving a perfectly respectful greeting to a Mandalorian.

Rass was osik at interpreting these things when they came from a non-Mando –

“Greetings. You must be Rass Ordo.”

“Uh-huh.”

Torian made eye contact with Eva – mission abort, mission abort, bail, bail, bail.

But it was too late. “We were going to the cantina – would you and Torian----?” She was unceasingly polite,

“YES.”

Poor lady. Didn’t know what she was getting into.

As Torian trailed behind the pair – Fria was talking, and Rass was nodding incessantly, staring at her – he overheard Theron and Eva.

“That’s not going to end well.”

“Oh, let them enjoy it while it lasts.”

Then Rass walked right off the edge of the steps into the cantina and ate the floor.

“…I concede your point. Rass might have to put his helmet on to survive this.”

Theron sighed. Torian chuckled then helped Fria haul Rass off the floor.

A/N: I have always believed that the steps into and out of the Odessen Cantina are an OSHA violation.

@fluffyfebruary @ermingarden @starlightcleric @ayresis @bluephoenix1347

@shynmighty and @queen-scribbles for the Rass Ordo love.

#fluffy february #swtor #rass ordo #torian cadera #consular oc

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iamafanofcartoons · 2 years

Note

Huh? What what? Eruption Fang is a Jacques apologist?? I've seen many of his videos where he defends Whitley's character? (By many of his videos I literaly mean I only ever watched his 'Whitley is a victim too' videos because his thirst for certain characters and defensiveness towards Raven, Harriet and Cinder make me mad). But yeah! I guess I am confused by him defending Jacques, could you elaborate please?

Eruptionfang, or Cole as he's known on Twitter, is in love with the idea of emo male sociopaths who talk about moral grayness.

A sociopath has no morals...has no virtues...but they are portrayed in media as charismatic....and people are brainwashed on that trope.

Vergil from Devil May Cry, Vicious from Cowboy Bebop, and Adam Taurus.

All three are trenchcoated men wielding katanas who are emo and hurt other people, often innocent people, and betray others for their personal goals.

Everyone attempts to defend their actions, all 3 of them.

But we first see Adam raiding train, wanting to kill all the passengers...and we see Blake stopping him.

Every single Adam Apologist began accusing Blake of being a war criminal and just as bad as Adam ...simply for standing in his way.

What's more, these people Blame Blake for Adam's actions.

So Sexism and Homophobia is something you'll find a lot of on EruptionFang's discord server...if he has one. He is basically another Adel Aka or Hero Hei...I'm not touching his channel, but word is that he IS a defender of child molester Vic Micnogna, who was Qrow Branwen's first VA.

Now as for Cinder Fall? Basically she's trying to kill the female main protagonist...for Cole, that's enough to put her in his good book.

Raven Branwen? We first meet her after her tribe wiped out a village just to plunder it...Raven began talking about Social Darwinism...which RWBY Critics ascribe to, and EruptionFang was furious to find that Raven's tribe was not as strong as her, because it meant that Raven was using social darwinism as an excuse to do what she wanted.

I like that about RWBY....they cut open "gray morality" and show how it is just an excuse for bad people to do whatever they want...and the fact that women oppose these people upset a lot of men and women who hate the female protagonists and love the male authority-fascist villains.

He loves Harriet because she's basically "Good soldiers follow orders" and we see in The Clone Wars and RWBY how blindly following orders causes problems.

As for Jacques? Despite him slapping Weiss, Cole decided that it had to be Weiss' fault for the slap, and that anything Weiss said against him, from stealing the family legacy, to changing his name as a con-man? Was Weiss needing to be disciplined.

He was also furious at Jacques Death because he wanted Jacques to get a redemption.

You'll see that RWBY Critics HATE the idea of female characters like Ilia Amitola or Emerald Sustrai getting redemptions, but cis white male characters like Adam or Ironwood or Jacques not getting redemptions is apparently character assassination.

At the end of the day, RWBY has more good POC characters than bad...and more POC live to see another day.

Which is ironic considering that the villains that the RWBY Critics defend so passionately are all white men in positions of authority.

This love of fascism, the military industrial complex, unchecked power, and men being allowed to commit whatever atrocities as long as it can be called "tough decisions" or "morally gray" is what led me to have a disdain for RWBY Critics who claim to "care about the show and want it to be better"

No...they want the show to lionize their white male character over the women protagonists.

And when people claim to be "Fixing" RWBY? Their focus is on hurting female main characters by stripping away their characteristics and overfocusing on men...especially the bad ones.

Because between female main characters with optimism vs male authority figure antagonists?

A criticism channel will always choose the male.

And I pity them.

In the meantime, take these to use to block out EF's channel.

#eruptionfang #eruption fang #adam taurus #james ironwood #raven branwen #social darwinism #moral ambiguity #morally gray #rwby #rwby character analysis #rwby discussion #jacques schnee

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anotherwvba · 7 months

Text

Challenge Accepted pt. 3

The early morning sun streamed through the windows of the WVBA Headquarters, casting a warm glow over the bustling facility. Skye, Mika, and Joe were making their way from the cafeteria to the gym, their stomachs full from a hearty breakfast and their spirits high.

"So, how did you feel about yesterday's training, Skye?" Mika asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Oh man, it was intense! Those drills you and Joe put me through? Killer! But in a good way," Skye replied, her voice tinged with excitement.

Glass Joe chuckled. "Ah, you handled it well, ma petite. You have the heart of a lion."

Skye beamed at the compliment. "Thanks, Joe! I just want to make sure I'm ready for Reina. I've heard she's no joke."

Mika nodded, her expression turning serious. "She's tough, no doubt. But you've got something she doesn't—us. And we're going to make sure you're more than ready."

Skye's eyes shimmered with gratitude. "I can't thank you guys enough for helping me. I just don't want to let you down."

Joe placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Skye, you could never let us down. Your dedication and hard work speak for themselves."

Mika chimed in, "Exactly! We believe in you, and you should too."

As they approached the lobby, Vonnie, the receptionist, called out to Skye. "Hey, Skye! Someone's here to see you."

Before they could see who it was, a voice rang out, "Where's my little dancer?"

Skye's eyes widened, recognizing the voice instantly. "Coach!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

In a flash, Skye sprinted into the lobby and leapt into the arms of Vanessa Maxwell, her coach. Vanessa, a charismatic and jovial woman that carried herself with a disciplined bearing, caught Skye effortlessly, her face breaking into a wide smile.

"Oh my God, Coach! What are you doing here?" Skye squealed, hugging Vanessa tightly.

"I couldn't let my star pupil have her big debut without me, could I?" Vanessa said, her eyes twinkling.

"But how did you—"

"I have my ways," Vanessa winked, setting Skye back down. "Besides, I've heard you've been training with some pretty amazing people."

Skye's eyes misted over with emotion. "I've missed you so much, Coach. These guys have been amazing," she gestured to Mika and Joe, who had followed her into the lobby. "Guys, this is Vanessa Maxwell, my coach. Coach, this is Star Mika and Glass Joe."

Vanessa extended her hand, first to Mika and then to Joe. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you for taking care of my Skye."

"Believe me, the pleasure is ours," Mika said, shaking Vanessa's hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Joe followed suit, his demeanor gentlemanly as always. "Enchanté, Madame Maxwell. Your reputation precedes you.”

Vanessa's eyes twinkled. "The pleasure is mine. And let me say, you've done an incredible job with Skye. She's always been a quick learner, but sometimes people forget that boxing is a team sport."

Skye’s heart soared at her coach’s words. She felt a sense of completeness she hadn't felt since she started training at the WVBA. With her coach by her side and her friends supporting her, she felt invincible.

Vanessa turned back to Skye, her expression turning serious as their eyes met. "Now, we've got a fight to win. You got your dancin’ shoes on?"

Skye's response was immediate and resolute. "You bet I do, Coach. With you here, I feel like I can take on the world."

And in that moment, surrounded by the people who believed in her, Skye knew that she was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. Reina Adora better watch out, because Skye Ivy was coming, and she was bringing an army with her.

#punch out #super punch out #punch out wii #punch out oc #wvba #punch out fanfic #star mika #skye ivy #glass joe #vanessa kof #king of fighters

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deada55 · 2 years

Text

Mothering

crossposting: ao3

synopsis: Molly and Calvert discuss disciplining their son, Pickles.

for kloktober day 8

“Dooya think we were too hard on him?”

He’d been crushed, and he cried hard enough to make her doubt he ever had asthma. Still, he managed to look suffocated, so red that he looked like an alien, twice as bad compared to the first round. They’d caught him again once he’d come back, but Molly felt she was justified. He couldn’t get away with running off, even if they’d let him have it about burning down the garage.

Her youngest had always been a little baby bottomless pit. The second baby should be easier than the first, or at least the second birth, but the opposite had been true. The bleeding led to a hysterectomy, and along with her uterus went away a light that she couldn’t identify. She couldn’t care less about him, about either of them. The day she realized he had red hair was the day he became bearable again for her. He was hers. He was different. He was special. Hell, he even looked like her.

How special was it that his first word was so hysterical that it became his name? No one knew exactly why it made them laugh until they cried. Initially, it was “Daddy’s” joke, then you used it, and then Seth wouldn’t let it go. You all named him Pickles. Isn’t that sweet?

But he didn’t make her all that happy. Just something about him brought her back into the darkness of her room and her polyester housecoats, staring out the window while he cried, bathing the house like white noise. Dishes swam in the murky kitchen sink for days. By the time she could get out of bed before noon, he was two months old.

Calvert held things together well enough. All the diaper duties he shirked with Seth came back with a vengeance. Who else would feed the baby and potty train the toddler and find something to eat? He drank after the dinner was on the table, when all there was left was to clean up and tuck everyone in. He took a sip of the water on his bedside table and sighed.

“Do you?”

Pickles pulled every trick a six-year old could have to get out of this mess, insisting that it was Seth through every sob. He tried to prove it, he tried to beg, he even tried to leverage his toys as a bargaining chip for them to believe them. He swore to “Gosh” and he promised to be better and he’d stay up late and clean the dishes so she wouldn’t have to.

It took thirty minutes before he’d slowed down enough for them to feel like they’d done enough. Pickles got into a pattern. He’d listen to his father with his eyes wide with fear and his bottom lip incompetent, showing his doll teeth perched on top of his tongue. Eventually, a couple tears would fall and he’d pinch his lips and whine until he wiped his face and started the whole process again. His reactions kept the whole thing going. More and more kept coming up about his behavior and Molly found herself lecturing about Thanksgiving. It was July.

By the bony grip of her husband’s hand on the seam of his pocket, she could tell he wanted to pull out the belt. They’d agreed never to belt the kids, not like what they got. They’d be modern. They could be parents without it. Seth tempted them from time to time but she’d never seen Calvert get that upset, that disgusted… If he felt that strongly, she was more than justified.

“Now you stay there until we come back and tell you to move!”

She stuck by Calvert and left shortly behind him, long enough to see the anxious hope in Pickles eyes. They walked slow, and she heard him whimper into his hands, too.

Now, in bed, she didn’t feel so proud of the parade they’d put on. Of course, he ran away. Anyone would run away, but understanding wasn’t the same as guilt.

“No, I don’t. I don’t regret a damn thing.”

Calvert lit a cigarette. “I think it’ll be good for him.”

He’d sent Molly and Seth to get a hamburger so he could pick at the remains of the garage, start calling insurance, and empty his scotch cabinet for shits and giggles. Pickles was missing when Molly came home but came back twenty minutes later with wet hair and alumnimum marks on his teeth and an uncharacteristic, beaten scowl.

Round two went just the same. Whatever hadn’t been said came flying out. How could he walk off like that, like a coward, after ruining the garage? Again, they laid out the cost, faster now that they’d had a run-through, but Pickle was only six and couldn’t keep up the tears all day. Instead of exhausted, he got sour and silent.

She could handle the tears, but his new face was making her fingers stiffen. Just when she was ready to slap him, Calvert let him be dismissed to walk robotically into his bedroom for the night.

“I hope so, I was starting to worry.” Her own mother called Pickles spoiled for the first time when he wouldn’t eat green beans, but between the inhalers and the doctors visits and the constant ringing of his toy piano she’d started to believe her.

Pickles didn’t go out as much. He didn’t scramble to go ride bikes, but he clamored for the movies. He spent too much time at home, wanting to be tucked into bed and asking to watch Julia Child with her. It wasn’t healthy. Seth could care less for his parents’ company. He had a couple years’ advantage, but already he looked like a better bet than his little brother.

Molly went to sleep thinking about making scrambled eggs and cream of wheat the next morning.

When he was thirteen, Pickles thought back to the days when his father would drive him around and nothing felt awkward about being seen by his father. Every time they hugged, almost every time they spoke, something brought him back to his father’s face grabbing his chin and the smell of burnt insulation. Bulging, red eyes flashed in front of his face and speaking to either of his parents stopped feeling good altogether while they rebuilt that garage and planted new cypress trees by the fenceline. His chest ached for weeks and he went through both of his inhalers. He almost missed the start of first grade to a swollen pain in his eyes, and his Christmas was spent wearing eyepatches. It made him sick, it absolutely made him sick.

When his grades slipped, it got worse, but when he pulled them up, they started to yell about his room. When he cleaned his room, they yelled about the scrapes on his elbows. When he healed, they screamed about his backtalk. When he stopped talking back, he realized they didn’t want him to speak at all.

The shit you see as a kid must get rehearsed over the years, and that’s how it stays closer to the spirit than anything you could do in the meantime. Maybe what he wanted didn’t exist anymore: His mom’s changed. She’s got wrinkles and thick knuckles on her right hand and he’d spend his whole life trying to run back to her softer clone hidden in a warm opioid haze. Her lips on his cheek haunted him while his hair fell out and his face got sallow the morning after, no matter how much money he made.

Someday, he had to stop running, but today couldn’t be that day.

#pickles the drummer #metalocalypse #kloktober #kloktober 2022 #metalocalypse fanfic #my writing #mtl

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nyandereneko · 1 year

Text

No Words to Spare

Word Count: 936

Summary: “They were at a bit of a standstill, not quite an impasse, and just on edge enough to not quite know what to do next. The silence grew heavier with each breath, bearing down on them like a downpour after a drought.”

Author’s Note: Happy Yumeweek 2022! It’s an event being hosted by a selfship account on Twitter, but I figured posting writing here for it would be okay too! These are prob gonna be a little shorter but I’ve really enjoyed working on these prompts, and I’m hoping this will be the warm up I need to help me keep up with sharing stuff again! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! Reblogs Appreciated!

*****

“Is that all you’ve got?” Vax goaded with a flippant toss of his dagger, sizing up his sparring opponent with a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “C’mon now, I thought faelyne were supposed to be paragons of dexterity, lithe and light on their feet.”

“What, and all half-elves are good at magic?” Nova spat back, her tone a blend of amusement and mild irritation as she met his gaze. She was locked in a defensive crouch, a posture she’d adopted after he’d thrown her across the training ground. Their sparring session was winding down, they could feel the ache and fatigue throbbing in their marrow, but that didn’t mean either party was content to give up without a fight.

“Magic isn’t very practical when it comes to raw, hand to hand combat,” the rogue countered as he encircled her, appraising her guarded stance from every angle.

Her dark hair framed her face like a galaxy, swaying like a cosmic cloud and complementing the brilliance of her fierce, void-like eyes. They pierced his own like a meteor, provoking him, challenging him to finish what he’d started. He wouldn’t mind drifting through that void forever, if he only could. Starlight radiated from every pore of her enchanting visage, a fount of effortless resplendence, and the half-elf found himself quite preoccupied by the sight of her wreathed in the twilight’s fading glow.

It wasn’t wise to allow himself to fall prey to such conspicuous temptations, especially in the heat of combat, but the subtle betrayal of her unease in the twitch of her tail was enough to temporarily shift his priorities. How did he want to bring this session to a close, if he was going to be the one to do it after all? He hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. They were at a bit of a standstill, not quite an impasse, and just on edge enough to not quite know what to do next. The silence grew heavier with each breath, bearing down on them like a downpour after a drought.

Having the audacity to deride the discipline of magic to her face…well, it wasn’t like this was the first time, nor would it be the last. Nova observed Vax with a keen, careful stare, pooling her own magical resources as she bided her time. Asserting her point and teaching him a lesson at the same time, perhaps a few blasts of harmless celestial energy or splashes of water couldn’t hurt; on the contrary, they might even rejuvenate him. She supposed such benefits depended on how generous she was feeling.

While she took her time deliberating her next move, Vax settled on his. Things had gotten too still, too quiet—he paused in his stride, and Nova’s fur began to rise. They could sense that this was the turning point, but who was going to emerge victorious was anyone’s guess. Maybe it was just going to come down to who had superior reflexes, and Vax was fairly eager to win this argument. Nova had quite a few arguably unfair advantages herself if she chose to exploit them, but such strategies required more forethought. As things stood, Vax caught Nova off guard, much to both parties’ unspoken delight.

Because when Vax caught her off guard, he went all in. Taking a couple preliminary steps to the side to draw her attention, he abruptly shifted his weight and switched sides, knocking her off balance and pinning her down in one fell swoop. She lost her breath, but she wasn’t sure if it was the physical or emotional impact that’d whisked it away. Her head spun and vision blurred as she wrestled with the dull pain from hitting the ground and the struggle for air through shallow breaths. It didn’t take long for her pulse and the pain to settle, and as her eyes fluttered open the sight that greeted her shocked her from ear to tail tip.

He was there, obviously, leaning over her and caging her beneath his…everything. His arms, his torso, he had captured her in every sense of the word and it was taking every ounce of her willpower to not immediately, instinctively shove him away. Because it wasn’t like they weren’t fond of this proximity, it wasn’t like they didn’t both understand that situations like this were kind of an implicit perk of participating in them in the first place. But there was also still a lot they hadn’t said to one another, a lot they weren’t prepared to, even if the only thing either of them really wanted was to hear the exact words the other had to say. Matters of the heart are rarely so straightforward, and even when they are, the potential risks almost always outweigh the rewards in the eyes of the parties that have no way of knowing which odds err in their favor, and which are sure to damn them.

“Looks like I win,” Vax teased to break the tension, chuckling a little himself as he moved to sit up and aided her in the process. “I’d say my point still stands.”

“I’d say you still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nova huffed in rebuttal, flicking a shower of Dancing Lights in the form of a dazzling burst of stars before his eyes. “And I’m going to prove it to you one of these days, no matter what it takes.”

“Good,” Vax purred, catching her hand and placing a chaste kiss to the soft flesh in his grasp. “I’m counting on it.”

Nova had not a word to spare in reply.

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darling-scommissionarchive · 2 years

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A Leader's Hardship.

The Head Archive || Masterlist 📼 || Welcome!

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PAIRING: OC x OC (romantic) GENRE: Hurt/Comfort + Fluff. PROMPT: Quinton goes to check on Emilia after she has a fight with one of their teammates, but the problems go far beyond the reason of the argument. LENGTH: One-Shot. WORDS: 1k. WARNINGS: Mentions of death, violence and abuse (?)

COMMISSIONED: 08/04/2022 POSTED: 08/18/2022

Commissioned by Parrots! Original characters and worldbuilding belong to them. Check out their Youtube Channel and Twitter where they post art!

Quinton’s knuckles brushed on the door in the rhythm of a soft knock that alerted Emilia. She yelled come in, her voice muffled from the many layers that divided them. He entered the room, silently shutting the door behind him. The room smelled of tea, which Quinton found unmatching to its bright lilac theme. He sat down on the very edge of her mattress, careful not to cause her any disturbance.

“Hey there, how are you?” He asked softly. She groaned in response and he bit his lip, wincing at the implied tone.

“How bad was it?”

“Very bad.” Her voice was muffled in the plush pillows.

She finally sat up and greeted him, her arms wrapped around herself and her legs tucked under her. She was looking anywhere but him and he noticed. He opens his mouth to speak but she’s faster than him.

“It was right as I had finished my fight simulations.” She sighed. “I entered the weaponry, as I always do, to put the weapons I had used back in their rightful place. That’s when I spotted Gertrude,” her fists balled and she gritted her teeth at the thought of the cyan-haired woman. “completely misusing her spear. I gave her a simple right warning on weapon safety and she dared criticize me for my quote-unquote; lack of leading skills, which, let’s face it, was irrelevant. She was the one throwing her staff on the wall, not me! Defensive ass water-user...”

Emilia continued on with her little rambling, this time mumbling out curses that Quinton struggled to make out. Quinton giggled at her state, hair messy and littered on the mattress, her body curled in a little ball and laying on its side. Emilia gave him the death glare, him shutting it quickly.

“You know,” he inhaled, “you need to cooperate with your teammates – even if you are superior to them. If they feel listened to and understood, they will be more respectful of your decisions and will be more likely to carry out your orders.” He smiled, in hopes of his advice being delivered in a sweeter manner.

Emilia exhaled a bitter sigh. “You should’ve been the head operative a month ago then.” She said, catching the Healer off guard. He patted her thigh and she turned to look at him, his look of confusion being the sign she needed to go into detail. So, the Duskic explained to him that if he’d been in her spot he would’ve done better. He would be more thorough in the search, she said, and he would be able to boost morale, all the while his abilities would decrease the amounts of wounded. Quinton doesn’t like how sincere she sounds and asks why she would think all of that. She pauses and looks away.

“Is it because of...Xeni?” The green one asked. No answer still, but he did notice her shrink.

The only thing that came to the dark-haired woman’s mind was the Duski Tribe army, the one that she had been a soldier for since she was nine. She’d been told she was old enough to give her services, her whole mind, body and life, to be a part of the military and she should be grateful that she even got the chance.

The discipline was harsh, and there was so much to prove to the male soldiers that she was training with. She wanted them to see that she could be more than a housewife and child-bearer and stop harassing her for it, so she adopted their mannerisms, the way they talked and acted in order to drive them away. And surprisingly, it worked.

It took a burden of her shoulders, yes, but that didn’t mean it made the military life any easier. She was now nothing more than a tomboy with still much to prove, this time to her superiors. Training was painful and the so called “orientation” classes absolutely unethical in their teachings. They were preparing them to throw away their bodies as if they were meaningless and teaching them to kill others of their age, just for their family to climb the social ladder and have many more chances to survive.

Childhood? What childhood? Ah, yes, the ruined one and unbearable to think about, that one. The one that only she made bearable, the one she helped her get through and survive – for the most part. Because she was the one to kill her, with no hesitation as well. Her heart started burning, her eye throbbing and she felt like throwing up, yet she didn’t hold back and told the soft-spoken Demigod about her insecurities; her fear of facing something she had hoped was already lost and how biased that makes her. A few tears escape her and he makes a mental note of how this is the first time he’s seen her cry.

“You’re the bravest person I have ever met,” he says, “maybe that’s why I like you so much,” but that she shouldn’t have heard for he whispered under his breath.

Yet she did. She smiled, blushed, looked away, sniffled and then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He was stunned for a bit, not used to her being affectionate – or anyone else for that matter. He hesitantly goes in for a kiss on the lips, unsure of her reaction, but she meets him in the middle. A sigh escapes his lips and he cups her jaw softly, deepening the kiss. Her plump lips were soft and salty, and her breath tasted of green tea.

When they pulled away to refill their lungs with oxygen, he noticed that more tears were escaping her eyes now than before, which terrified Quinton at first, the brunette thinking he’d done something wrong. He hadn’t, that was simply Emilia’s reaction to feeling a little bit more than tolerated; wanted, she felt wanted. The kiss was so warm to her stomach, it brought her to the edge and now she was a weeping mess.

He was speechless at first then, “It’s okay,” Quinton spoke, attempting to soothe her by rubbing her back in circles, “you’ll be fine. I will guide you, if that’ll help.” He hugged her close to his chest, his tongue filling her ears with sweet compliments and promises that brought a smile to her face and finally soothed her to a dreamless sleep.

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publicabsent · 2 years

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a brief history of annette & her mother.

this meta will be listed under a read more due to length & potentially triggering topics such as: familial death, verbal abuse, parental abuse, abandonment, general child abuse. proceed with caution.

the first thing annette was made to understand was that she was a mistake. a slip of judgment, a misfortune even. cared for enough to survive, then made to earn her keep by the time she was big enough to perform chores well. toys weren’t seen in the house, at least not for the eldest. she learned to read & would sneak books from her father’s bookshelf to consume as quickly as possible, just to put them back in the same place as if she’d never touched them. (years later she would watch the movie matilda & cry.) if her mother caught her with one of her father’s books, it would be yanked away with harsh word about being a bratty little thief. her mother’s often wine red manicured nails never dug into her arms, not while it was more than the two of them living in the house, but there always lingered the knowledge that they could. being caught in her father’s office twice in a week would result in being shut up in her room, door locked from the outside. the young girl would sit against her door & convince herself that this wasn’t punishment – it was discipline. after all, her mother would be kind sometimes. only when provoked would her presence grow icy. it must be her fault. she’s my mother & she loves me.

once, she’d overheard her parents talking about how they wished they’d had a boy. how a boy would be much easier, wouldn’t he, not nearly so emotional or needy? so she, tender age of four & a half, tried to be those things. tried not to cry when her arm would be yanked on for an admonishment, tried not to ask so many questions (she was getting tired of the sharp speak up! that always greeted these anyway), tried not to be so much. annette learned to nod & obey, if she wanted a why she would have to find it herself. the conception of her younger brother thrilled her – sure, he’d be just a little baby, but it would be someone else in the house! as gifts for the little luca began to pile up, the bedroom that once was hers transformed into his, & the formerly off-limits attic became hers. much like any other antique up there, she & her small array of things were sequestered away to gather dust & be forgotten. and beside making sure she got to school & was fed enough, she was. especially after her brother was born, & she was kept far from him.

even as they begin to move state to state, the eldest carli child is kept separate from the family. what questions or additions to conversation she may have wanted to make was silenced, between her dread at the words spit it out & her struggles with half the words in her vocabulary. as she grew older, the latent resentment from her mother became steadier. sure, she was a lovely student, if a bit quiet; she was so well-behaved, so polite, so smart – but she was still an error. always the regret, the mistake. (on the rare occasions her father was home, he would at the least tolerate her. pretend to be interested. she couldn’t be so lucky with her mother.) as the moves shortened in terms & raised in frequency, the fights between her parents grew louder. her brother was safe in his room, playing with his trains in bliss. but the quiet one always heard. she had learned to know the unspoken words behind every footstep, the intention behind every movement in her direction.

the strongest ingredient in the poison is that which is sweet. the flavor that makes it palatable, so that your victim won’t realize what’s been done.

the stay with her grandparents was peaceful, though her grandmother was loud & smelled of cigarette smoke & never remembered her name. her grandfather showed her how children ought to be treated – with kindness, & patience, & even something similar to love. as long as he was there, her mother’s ire kept itself to a low simmer. but then he died, just weeks after annette’s already cellophane father vanished into thin air with the darling baby boy, now a happy five or six. the fingers were pointed at the eleven-year-old girl, the little ghoul haunting their attic, the unlucky charm who ought never to have existed in the first place. the rapid fire losses inflamed her mother & her words, no longer clever or sideways in their attacks. for the months between that summer & the final move, each word in her direction was sharpened & serrated. she was learning that middle school girls could be cruel, but she was remembering that so can your family. things only worsened once she & her mother moved out, annette remaining an attic ornament while her mother’s anger festers, each interaction more tense than the last.

this is where we find it all now: a quiet daughter who keeps her head down, bookish & obedient, along with her mother the ice queen with a heated razor tongue. what little physical torment is inflicted seems almost harmless: the slightly too-tight grip on her daughter’s upper arm, the raising of a hand as if tempted to strike, imperceptible & well-hidden tactics that frighten the victim more than more overt manners. the onslaught of chores & insults & far-too-high standards weigh more heavily, like a loose grip on the rope of a guillotine. the leash is tight, keeping annette too scared to stray far from her mother’s shadow. (even that word, mother, is a display of power. any stuttered cries of mama are harshly quelled, icily insisting that she doesn’t have a mama, that mamas are for babies & children who are wanted. she ought to be grateful she has a mother, since it’s all her fault she hasn’t got anyone else.) it’s almost self-inflicted now, annette predicting what her mother may do or say before it’s ever brought to fruition.

not that annette realizes this is at all harmful – the old mantra of she’s my mother & she loves me rings throughout every reaction. she trusts her mother, believes her, will defend her. just as she’s always been told, no one else truly wants her. she ought to be grateful, & so she is. despite everything hinting the opposite.

#✽ ➝ meta. ❜#✽ ➝ mother. ❜#abuse ment /#child abuse /#parental abuse /#death ment /#verbal abuse /#lol anyway . idk if i articulated everything the way i wanted but this is satisfactory for now

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daemxnium · 2 years

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–– 𝕴𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖆𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋, / 𝕯𝖎𝖉 𝖎𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌?

did it foresee how it would become what it was called?

name: roman valle

age: thirty-five

gender identity: cis-male.

pronouns: he/him

birthday: november 8, 1986

star sign: scorpio.

species: hunter

occupation: lighthouse keeper

place of birth: tofino, bc

height: 5′11

about.

his childhood was perfect- roman was the doting older brother to his baby sister, they grew up in the beautiful coastal town of tofino- where the sun kissed their bronzed limbs and salty waters tangled their hair. life was idyllic, and summers were long and beautiful. laughter rang around them like peal of bells and he cannot remember a day where they weren’t at peace.

he was always quiet, never a boy of many words after a speech impediment stole his confidence in early years. even after speech training and ironing out his stammer, he found it more effective to communicate through his actions, paring down what he had to say into what was meaningful, or essential.

it was the ocean that made him feel the most at home, academics were never his interest but it was out at sea that he thrived, rolling out at daybreak with fishermen and surfing even in the dead of winter. his sister was the light of the valle family, a bubbly, delightful presence who filled the room and spoke up for him when he did not: isabella looked out for him in her own way, just as he did in his own.

snarled words to the ear of her exboyfriends came at his hand: he was afraid of nothing, and his quiet threats were backed by real motivation: roman was not one to be idle in what he promised. most people learned to keep their distance from him and he prowled through life with the ease of a jungle cat: dangerous but unbothered.

it was just after isabella’s nineteenth birthday that the world shattered around him. she’d gone missing, stolen from the night with every indication pointing that she had been dragged into the woods. the whole town combed them, but it was roman who tore through the brush and the brambles, ripping his skin as he searched for what could remain of his little sister.

when she was found, there was scarcely anything left: a gash that glistened crimson like a choker of rubies split across her pale throat and her nightgown bore the same garish colour. this was no accident, though the police reports claimed it to be so: he had seen her there, she hadn’t of just slipped on a branch or got caught on a wire.

his search for truth became an obsessive, horrible cycle, drawing whatever was bright about roman deep inside of himself. there were clues, little notes in her room about witch craft and magic, just enough to steer him in a direction. necromancy, dark magic, blood sacrifice. his digging and search for answers caught the interest of others however, his drive did not go unnoticed and he was met by a witch.

the offer he was given was one that roman clung to: it was a purpose and a reason. they could give him a blessing, grant him the strength and training required to ensure that no others would meet the same fate as isabella.

roman agreed readily, seizing the training and guidance provided. he found a purpose in the structure of it and the discipline. he was good at it, with his patient hands and keen eye. after he was deemed ready, he was directed towards grand manan island, a home of other hunters and supernaturals.

his pick of a home once coming to the island was a place by the sea, and he took employment taking care of the lighthouse in exchange for a roof over his head. it is there that he lives a rather secluded life, taking care of his dog boone and hunting down the things that bump in the night.

#roman: a history.#ok so the quality of this one dropped off bc i'm losing steam but another one out and into the world!

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qitianyi · 2 months

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What kind of dance teacher could I become?

In the beginning, I honestly did not want to be a dance teacher because I did not think I was dedicated enough to take on the responsibility. Probably due to personal experience, as a professional dancer most of the time I only focus on my own progress. However, while the nature of the work is both dance-related, the focus of dance teachers and dancers is on diametrically opposed things.

My high school ballet teacher was the most influential person in my training experience. She is a very strict teacher, and her teaching methods are very consistent with the stereotyped training model of ballet. I still clearly remember her recording our weekly weight numbers and strictly requiring us to control our weight and body shape. Her courses require disciplined training and constant pushing of physical limits. When I first started dancing, I did not know what quality of movement I liked, or what kind of movement I thought looked good. My high school dance teacher was my introduction to ballet, and her teachings laid the foundation for my dance aesthetic. I hit my training plateau mid-training, and struggled to maintain my weight while still growing, leading to an eating disorder and irregular menstruation. At the same time, my jumping and spinning skills never improved to the point where I became less and less confident in myself when dancing. My dance teacher also noticed something was wrong with me and she often talked to me multiple times after class. After her patient guidance time and time again, I regained my positive attitude during training. Finally, after three years of dance training, I performed a solo and successfully received an admission letter from the university. She is a very strict teacher, but she also takes great care of her students. She will thoughtfully customize recipes for students who have difficulty controlling their weight and will also pay careful attention to each student's emotions to solve their problems. Not just for me, this ballet teacher's skill level and professionalism impact every student.

As stated in a dance journal: ‘Ballet dancers unconsciously adopt ballet culture, and it affects the quality of their movements (Roche 2011).’ Similarly, as a dancer, several years of ballet training have deeply affected my dance aesthetic. Ballet aesthetics make me prefer dance with lines, shapes, and high-quality technique. Therefore, my ideal dance body is also infinitely close to the characteristics of ballet, including standard dance posture images, light texture of movement and strong stage rendering power. However, professional dancers will go to great lengths to achieve this requirement. In the early days of training I never thought about my ideal dance body, I just followed the instructions of my dance teacher and did every exercise. My ballet teacher always said: ‘What you put into your training, your body will give you back.’ I did not feel much about this statement at first, but after years of training I feel the same way. Like all sports, dancing tests the endurance, physical strength, and mental strength of the trainer. We seem to be doing the same thing every day, just keep practicing and practicing. I even get bored a lot, but I do see changes in my body as I keep training. This kind of change needs to go through a long process, but it does live up to the teacher's words, effort equals return. Years of dance training have taught me the truth that a little makes a lot.

In addition, although I have been trained in ballet before college, when it comes to teaching style, I prefer contemporary dance courses. In my training experience, compared to the lines, images and high-tech movements of ballet. Contemporary dance focuses more on the dancer's creativity, including choreography and improvisation, which inspires students to find their own dance style. During the course, I could feel the teacher encouraging the students to explore their emotions and pay attention to body sensations. By comparison, the training format of a classic ballet class can appear rigid and restrictive. As I mentioned earlier in my training experience, ballet dancers often become frustrated by comparing their own bodies to the ideal ballet body (Wendy 2008). However, training in contemporary dance cured my low self-esteem. It was precisely because of this experience that I had the idea of changing my identity from dancer to dance teacher.

In general, ballet training established my thoughts on dance aesthetics and gave me a standard concept of the training model for professional dancers. Contemporary dance classes have given me the confidence to accept my imperfect body. I believe that I will become a teacher who has disciplined training methods and at the same time encourages students to express themselves in dance.

References:

1. Roche, J. (2011) ‘Embodying multiplicity: The Independent Contemporary dancer’s moving identity’, Research in Dance Education, 12(2), 105–118, available: https://doi.org/10.1080/14647893.2011.575222.

2. Wendy, O. (2008) ‘Body Image in the Dance Class’, Journal of Physical Education, Recreation & Dance, 79(5), 18-41, available: https://doi.org/10.1080/07303084.2008.10598178.

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like-sands-of-time · 5 months

Text

(really long) prompt idea that I had but hopefully someone else will want to take and make something with

Rhaenyra and Aegon are betrothed (whenever kids get married when they've been betrothed since birth, probably when he's only like 5-10 years old I'd guess) being only ten years apart in age, it's close enough for viserys to still have his children marry and follow in the family's footsteps, an even better omen in his eyes that the young aegon will marry his older sister and they'll rule together, just like the conqueror.

Despite Rhaenyra's lack of any great interest in him when he's a boy, preferring the company of her dragon, her uncle, causing mischief, aegon can't help but crush on his dear sister from the first. As she idolized daemon. When daemon is in kings landing he's sure to have not one but two shadows

She speaks only in high valyrian around him when he is young, not wanting to maintain conversation with the product of her fathers second marriage, and hoping to deter him. But despite his limited/lack of education in the language, exposure through her and questioning his father sees him learning how to understand her and reply in his own right rather quickly. This pleases viserys, and warms rhaenyra to him, who knows her mother would wish for her to care for her young brother. Even if his mother is a scheming hightower with no respect for the former queen or the princess herself.

He seeks to follow her to the dragon pit, to see his dragon, to see her fly, the most impressive dragon rider as far as he's concerned. He always asks her to take him on a ride with her. Rhaenyra grumbles, but agrees when she sees how much it worries the Queen, keeping her arms wrapped tight around her young brother. It would hardly do to have him fall and die. He doesn't mount his dragon nearly as young as she did, but eventually he follows, and still wishes to go on rides beside her and their uncle.

When daemon returns to court rhaenyra all but disappears from aegons perspective. He admires his uncle just as his sister does, as the rest of court does. He is a powerful man, awe inspiring. But aegon is terribly jealous of the man's monopoly on his sister, his betrothed. When he's hardly old enough to start training as a knight, he tries to duel daemon for her hand. Daemon laughs, even rhaenyra looks amused and less sympathetic to his valiant attempts for her hand, which makes the boy feel deeply humiliated. he knows he could never beat his uncle in a show of strength or swordsmanship, but he hardly has anything else to offer. He tries harder in his training, wanting to be as good as daemon someday to protect his Queen.

He stomps his foot and throws a tantrum until he's given lessons in his family's language and history, something his mother seems unexcited about. His father, absent though he is, commends aegon on his dragon training, his knights training, his language and history. He's not very good at sitting and learning, finding it dull, and hard to grasp, he learns more when he convinces his uncle to teach him.

(Daemon warms to aegon slowly, but surely. The boy is an insult to aemma from viserys himself, but it's hardly his own fault. He can't be blamed for his scheming mother and his weak father. And any boy as fond of rhaenyra as him, as soft faced, as prone to tears, as desperate for affection, as he, is easy enough to turn against his mother's discipline, her harsh words and even harsher claws in his cheek. Daemon can see rhaenyra has grown soft on him as well, seeming to sway back and forth between an almost maternal affection and a sisterly one. They are betrothed, and daemon is no longer heir, but rhaenyra is, viserys' own firstborn, with a young husband she's raising in her own name. A boy who will never betray her.)

When hes older he stays with his mother and father during a feast night for the first time. He's still the youngest there, but it's hardly like anyone will say anything to the prince about it. And besides, his betrothed is here, a resplendent woman, and aegon wishes desperately to see more of her and their uncle. She's gone away at dragonstone for lengths of time now, their uncle too who helps her run the keep. and he may be ten now, but he still sometimes cries at night, curled as tightly as he can get, for missing her. He eats lemon cakes because they're her favorite and visits his dragon, just like she would want him to do, but he struggles during his lessons, and sometimes spills the wine during his father's meetings, distracted as he is. He can see his grandfather's disgust at him when he messes up and he always apologizes to the king, not wanting to disappoint his father so publicly. who merely has the mess cleaned and sends Aegon for time in his room, for rest the king says with a smile but it feels like being sent to his room like a unwanted child.

Aegon wasnt really permitted to dance, he's not old enough, and he's embarrassed, the lessons he's been taking have been moving terribly slowly, to his immense frustration . He wishes to be the best at everything for his Queen! He wishes he could move as easily as the men or the room, like his uncle, who dances with rhaenyra until she's laughing, never looking down or messing up. Aegon sits between his father and mother, listening to the king laugh loudly and talk through the evening, seeming to ignore aegon and his own wife, but he hardly thinks about it, not when something far worse is happening.

Rhaenyra has spent the evening dancing with just about every man in attendance save for him, occasionally laughing or smirking at the conversation with her partners or her Ladies in waiting by the drink and food. She comes back to the table once, deep into the evening, and gives their father a polite smile, saying that she wishes to retire for the evening now. Aegon, in a fit of sudden panic, speaks before his tongue can weigh the consequences- he asks her to spare one dance for him. She looks over at him in shock, and aegon can even feel the eyes of their father on him for what feels like the first time that evening. It's not disapproval, which only bolsters his shaky confidence.

Viserys says it's a fine idea, that surely aegon and rhaenyra can do one simple dance. Aegon blushes when he takes his sister's hand and lets her lead him to the dance floor. He realizes rather quickly that he doesn't actually know the steps as much as he thought he did, perhaps his nerves have made him forget. She winces when he steps on her toes, but she holds her tongue. Aegon thinks he might scream from frustration but shakes his nerves and focuses, and by the end he looks up at her, a hopeful look on his face, wanting desperately to meet her approval. She does. 'that was very well done Aeg. Have you been practicing?" He beams now, knowing she liked his dancing.

Rhaenyra excuses herself after talking with him briefly and aegon finds himself being dismissed back to bed by his mother as well. No matter that it's late, aegon doesn't think he can sleep for hours after holding rhaenyra so close, seeing her smile down at him. After changing into his sleep clothes with his maid, aegon decides to go see his sister once more- perhaps he can ask her for a ride with syrax tomorrow, or else maybe just a stroll together to hear about her life. He's granted entry to her room by her guard to find her not alone. Aegon watches in silence and firelight before disappearing back to his own room, mortified, curious, intrigued.

Rhaenyra had had a man in her arms, in her rooms, without a scrap of clothing between the two of them. Not just any man- a silver haired soldier. One who wasn't supposed to be so close to the princess at all. Though she clearly wanted him there. Aegon watched them paw at each other, watched them press together from their faces to their knees, watched them rise and fall against each other like the wind as their shadows moved and they made strange sounds. Aegon knows deep down that he can't give rhaenyra that.. whatever their uncle can give her. He's jealous, but only to be held in her affections.

Hes sad, that he's so distanced from his sister and uncle that they have fallen in love and he didn't even know. Should he tell his father? Clearly she much prefers the company of a man, someone strong and tall and capable of making her a wife. Aegon knows their marriage is years out still, that she's been waiting her whole life for him to catch up, her little brother, too young, too slow, always causing grief for his family. But perhaps it wouldn't be best to tell father before she and uncle were ready to admit their love...? Perhaps she wished to tell father herself, or perhaps she already had! Perhaps she and daemon were married and together at dragonstone and aegon was too much of a child that his father didnt even have the heart to tell him he would never have Rhaenyras hand or her heart.

(rhaenyra and daemon are in love with each other, a connection they've felt her whole life that's changed and grown as she did. Their dragons were mates, a sign of how their own souls mirrored each other, how they were twin flames in the fire. Rhaenyra knew she would have to marry her young brother when he was grown, for the realm, but she knew daemon was in an unhappy marriage too. They could have each other, happiness and peace at dragonstone, so long as she never carried his child and his mark on her lip.

It hurt, she ached, but until she was Queen herself and could take a second husband she knew she couldn't say anything. Daemon was saddened by it too, she knew, she could feel it, but he wouldn't do something to jeopardize their relationship, or her throne, or her virtue. He was her fiercest protector, whipping up dragonstone to its former glory after so long without its former inhabitants. He was stern with her army, he was watchful with her finances, and always sweet with her, in public or not)

Aegon convinces the king to be fostered at dragonstone with his sister and uncle for the remainder of the time until they marry, as it is to be his future home as well. Rhaenyra welcomes him with strong arms around him, his face pressed firmly to her chest and he melts, feeling calm for the first time in a long while, to be in the presence of his queen, his future wife, the other part of him. Aegon is eager to be on the island, and even more eager to be useful to his family. He would feel embarrassed but he can't when his desire to be around them both is stronger. So he wakes as early as daemon does, trains as long as he does with the rest of the gold cloaks, follows dutifully as he patrols the island and helps maintain the peace. He goes riding, with both of them, three dragons flying in harmony together.

He listens to the new maesters lessons, quickly convincing the older man to teach while moving and doing something else to hold his interest. He can tell, even without rhaenyra telling him frequently over dinner, that she's proud of him. That he's doing a good job, that he's useful. He pours wine for her during her petitions, and meetings, and when he accidentally stumbles, or his hand slips just so and he splashes wine on her dress he's SURE he's ruined it all, all his hard work. But she sits there, the wine soaking into her dress as she grabs the pitcher and his shaking hands. She ends up comforting him, as he dabs at her beautiful, ruined, dress. His Queen. His sister.

(rhaenyra is confused, overwhelmed, when her brother seems to lose all sense of protocol when he spills wine on her, falling to his knees in the large room full of people who are most definitely gasping, staring, as he brushes at her skirts with shaking hands. He's got a tear in his eyes, though he doesn't let it fall, and he can hardly stop staring at the rather small stain. She looks to daemon for help, and he somehow saves his niece and nephew once more, taking aegon with him for the entire evening. Rhaenyra would complain about eating dinner and bathing alone, but she knows that them bonding is more important. Aegons always been a cross between starry eyed and jealous when it came to daemon, and when he returns he's no different. Whatever he and daemon discussed helped, and aegon begins growing more confident at dragonstone.

She doesn't realize just how shy and scared he really was at kings landing until they return for the first time, after several months, and she watches aegon go from a confident young man of ~12 to quiet, sullen, distant. She also realized just how much her words of praise affected him, when he stares at her with a look of love and devotion at her simple words at dinner. He glows, even when alicent frowns at her eldest, looking over at her every once in a while with bright adoring eyes. She's never had children of her own, she's waiting for him, in fact, but she can't help the confusing pull towards him, maternal so much of the time and not sisterly. Perhaps being an older sister is partly maternal. She wouldn't really know.

Daemon and Rhaenyra take up most of his time, and instead of him rebelling, wanting privacy and to be alone, he seems to mourn when they're apart. She watches proudly as aegon continues to grow, stronger both in mind and body. Her father is hardly the most observant man, and alicent is hardly a doting mother, at least not with aegon, but rhaenyra and daemon don't mind feeling proud of him, kissing him on the cheek, giving him hugs, spending the time they're not alone together with him. It's as though she can imagine having a son of her own, and she finds herself far more amenable to the idea now as she grows older, as she feels more settled and mature with daemon and aegon at her sides.)

Aegon and Rhaenyra marry after his 15th birthday. He's been living at dragonstone with his sister and uncle for the last few years now, in what has been the happiest time of his life, and how he will call her his wife. Aegon has grown accustomed to the affection and love between his sister and uncle, having known about it for years now, but in the weeks from the time father's announcement of the wedding goes out to the realm til the time they mount their dragons to fly to kings landing, aegon worries.

His uncle knows also of his love for his sister, of his desire to be her husband. He's done nothing to push aegon away, in fact he's grown close with aegon as rhaenyra has, but the unknown worries him. Will he share her bed now? He wishes to.. most ardently. But once more, what can he give her that daemon surely hasn't already given her? A child, he realizes. The only thing daemon, the man who has doted on the realms delight more even than the spring prince himself, has never gifted rhaenyra was his child in her belly. Aegon knows why, of course, but perhaps such a gift is his alone to give her?

Perhaps she will love him more for giving her such a gift? Rhaenyra is such a motherly figure, and it hardly matters who the babe is. She was the first to suggest an orphanage for all children on the island to be protected. There weren't many, compared to larger places, but it still showed her priorities. She would not see children suffer. Aegon knew that personally, having felt her motherly touch. He wishes now for the touch of a wife, the love she gives daemon. Mayhaps if he gifts her a child of her very own, she will see him worthy of such love.

The wedding ceremony is strange, when it isn't done in the tradition of their house, but rather the religion of another people. Aegon sits with his wife on one side, daemon on his other, and in a strange way he feels happy. He is between daemon and rhaenyra, who's love runs so deeply their own dragons feel it, but yet they don't treat him any differently than they do at home. In fact, daemon, for all aegons fear, smiles over at aegon throughout the night, encouraging him to dance with rhaenyra, to eat, to drink some water. Aegon knows what comes when they leave the party, what must happen, but he does not wish to rush his sister.

He waits dutifully for her to decide when she's ready to leave, even when he finds himself leaning against daemon, who's arm has long since been wrapped around his chair behind his neck. Aegon assumed it was the stretch of a lover to be close when separated, but his hand curls around aegons shoulder when he falls back, his other coming to rest on aegons thigh where his leg was twitching restlessly. He soothes, watching his wife dance and laugh and eat, feeling safe and supported in his uncles embrace. Rhaenyra glances at the two of them often, and he forces himself to keep his eyes open so he won't miss a minute of her attention, however faded.

When rhaenyra finally returns to the head table, telling the king that she will be escorted back to her rooms by her husband, aegon grows alert once more. The eyes of the whole room are on him, including rhaenyra, including daemon who squeezes his shoulder in support. Aegon offers her his arm, and the two make their return to their rooms, to Rhaenyra's childhood room that will now be his when they return to the keep. Aegon is excited, nervous to please his lady wife, when she's used to a certain level of familiarity from their uncle.

They both sit down to remove the layers of jewels and clothes, though aegon admittedly has it much easier, he still removes his weapons, more for a show of strength than necessary on such a day, he removes the outer layers of his clothes, until it's more as though he's in sleep clothes. Then he goes to his wife's side and asks if she needs help. He touches her hair, her beautiful hair, as he removes the jewels and braids with the utmost care. Even when he accidentally snags her hair she doesn't wince his wife, but he wishes to show how true his affections run. He does not wish to take advantage of their marriage bed. But rather to add to it, to please her in any way.

It is when he's brushing her hair that daemon appears, from a hidden doorway. Rhaenyra does not even flinch, though aegon jumps. His appearance is expected though, it seems, as he walks towards the pair of them easily, kissing their cheeks. "My beautiful niece and nephew." Aegon stares up at him, pleased by the compliment and the warm hand on him once more. He didn't realize just how much he missed his uncles touch, how relaxed he felt all evening in his uncles arms as they watched his wife, their queen. Together... Rhaenyra looks at him, looks at aegon, and she too touches him, grabs his hand and leads him towards the bed. Aegon turns to look at daemon when he feels his hand slip off him again, but he smiles down at him and tips his head, telling him to keep walking.

Aegon, darling. Have you ever lain with a woman? Rhaenyra asks him as she nudges him to sit on the side of the bed, their bed. 'no'

Have you kissed a woman? Pleased her? 'no, but I can learn-'

That's ok my darling. Daemon and I will show you everything you want to know. Do you want that? He nods.

Aegon is shown not only how to love his wife.. his uncle, but how to be loved in turn. They sleep curled up together in the new, larger, bed, fit for a married couple, and room enough for three by royal standards. No one enters without knocking, and even still, daemon does not leave, simply makes sure to stay unseen by the maids bringing them food and a bath. For an entire day they remain in the peace and seclusion of their rooms. There will be no doubt about the consummation of their marriage when a maester checks between Rhaenyra's legs, even since their bath this morning there is new proof, and the hand prints along her hips and ass, the bites along her neck and breasts and thighs.

If anything aegon worries it will be too obvious that both daemon and aegon contributed. Surely none think him alone capable of such.. with no prior experience and only a day and night to learn? He was a most dedicated student in this subject but surely the different shaped bite marks will be a clue at least? No one mentions it, aegon hears no rumors, and nor does he hear the king shouting or losing his head.

When she's dressed and they're all taking dinner together once again, only one mark far up on her neck almost to her jaw is visible with the dress she's wearing. His father claps him on the back, makes toast after toast to their fruitful marriage to the disdain of his mother and grandfather and the amusement of daemon. Daemon makes a toast as well to his niece and nephew, similar words he said the night before, with a shine in his eyes, and aegon feels happy.

He wishes to return home though, where the three of them can be together and no one will share such secrets. His question to father is met with knowing looks from all, and he turns pink but keeps his chin up. Their trip is shortened and he thinks that such a thing pleases his lady wife greatly. She does not miss the keep either, or the city. He knows it will be different when they must return, but yet that's entirely it. She doesn't run this city, but she does run dragonstone. She feels safe and comfortable there, she has a voice there, as she's come to let aegon feel too. He's been welcomed in by daemon and rhaenyra and he wishes to go back to that happy environment with dragons roaming free and the smell of the ocean in the air.

The first child of princess rhaenyra comes within the first year of their marriage, unsurprisingly. At 15, 26, and 42 the future rulers become parents. She has given her husbands a daughter. When she brings forth several more children in the next decade, and the king becomes a grandfather, and daemon a widower, Aegon and Rhaenyra well established as leaders, viserys abdicates his throne in favor of his children. He is able to devote his full time to his model, his children, and grandchildren. He's convinced by daemon and rhaenys that it's better to let go before he becomes unfit for rule as he ages like the old king.

Thus, viserys and his own queen witness rhaenyra take the throne, and a second husband, both of which were not her equal in status but yet clearly her beloved. Aegon and daemon were always close, even after the wedding, as they all lived on dragonstone together. The three of them ruled the island well, and raised the children amongst themselves, so when rhaenyra and daemon finally wed it's more of a formality, so that she might give them both equal titles. Aegon and Daemon carry their ancestors swords to be passed down to their children someday.

#rhaegon #daegonyra #daegon #this is a prompt lol but its really long #sorry #i wont write this just because i dont know the books and i wouldnt be able to give it the nuance and depth that it deserves of course #but i really love the concept so if anyone DOES want to write this.. all of this 😅 pleaseeeee do so

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