so i was fucking around with @saltandlimes in about mid-october, as we do, and the subject of parody songs came up. i happened to mention that in my family, christmas carol parodying is a semi-professional sport. “do tell,” she said.
about ten minutes later the words for this were done. about ten minutes after that, i went, “hold on. this needs to be a thing.”
i figured i could handle the music, but i couldn’t do this alone. so i pulled every last shred of nerves together and messaged all my favourite kylux cartoonists. i nearly cried when everyone wanted to join in on this nonsense. i couldn’t believe it. and the art i got just knocked my socks off.
@wyomingnot supplied invaluable vidding advice. @pidgy-draws and @pixiepunch supplied moral support. and my lovely husband put up with my voice acting.
so without further ado, oh god what is this how did i get here i am not good with computer.
THE MUSIC: lyrics, music, midi orchestration and vocals by @acroamatica, with apologies to john williams. my accent is fake. so is domhnall’s.
THE VIDEO: audio and video produced by @acroamatica
you will find the lyrics sheet here, should you want it.
merry whatever you celebrate, and here’s to another year of exactly this sort of thing.
it seems we have come round again to The Season For This Sort Of Thing. so please enjoy.
If you missed the beauty of the 12 days of kylux last year, please take a listen now. Heck, even if you listened to it on repeat all last year, get it stuck in your head again!
christmas (aka star wars season) is fast approaching and that means its time for a follow forver! its been more and more kylux in my posts and the blogs i follow ❤ thank you guys for being amazing artists and writers. lots of thorki blogs on my dash too – i love seeing you all there so much!
special shout out to my fave blogger and person @johnohboyega ❤
my sideblogs that might interest you: @thorloki (the name says it all) and @dailyspark (photography, nature and aesthetics, text posts)
if anyone’s interested i also: write fic – ao3 & rec fic – kylux fic recs
mutuals and sideblogs and everyone i admire from afar – thank you all for being amazing!
Welcome to Huxloween 2017! We’ve got a prompt a day (and two per Saturday) to inspire your Halloween and horror-themed kylux creative works.
Many prompts this year were recommended by you; thank you!
This is a casual event, so there’s no pressure to post something on the exact day of the prompt, or even to post something every day. Just pick the prompts you like and go for it! Remember to tag #huxloween and @ us (@huxloween) so we know to reblog your work, or submit it directly to the blog.
For more information on Huxloween, check our About, FAQ, and Tag pages. If you’ve got questions, feel free to hit up our ask.
Here is the full list of prompts in text form. Have fun!
1. What’s the worst fanfic you’ve ever written/have thought about writing?
2. Admit to a kink you’re ashamed you like.
3. Copy paste a line from the first smutty fanfic you wrote or fess up to a sexual fantasy you have about a character.
4. Have you ever read or written RPS/RPF?
5. Most shameful ship?
6. Ever been at the center of fandom drama?
7. What is your fandom guilty pleasure?
8. Share something you did in fandom that you’re embarrassed about.
9. Describe the first time you read a smutty fanfic. What ship was it and what kinks were involved?
10. Any fandoms you’d hate to admit you were a part of?
11. Just how often do you think about your favorite characters getting down and dirty?
12. Someone found your delicious account/bookmarks/AO3 account or however you keep track of your favorite fics. What’s the one fic you’re going to be most humiliated about?
13. Ever been caught reading smut/writing smut/drawing smut/looking at smutty drawings?
14. What would your parent/guardian/family friend think if they saw your tumblr?
15. Oh shit you croaked without getting rid of the fandom stuff you saved to your computer. What’s your next of kin or friend going to find when they turn on your computer?
Hux had spent enough time on the mountain to know what it felt like to be watched. Stalked. Hunted. He was familiar with eyes on his back, the ghost of teeth on his neck; a phantom kill. He shared his territory with wolves and bears, even the occasional foolhardy cougar who came too far north following the deer, so he knew the only thing that stood between him and a death of teeth and claws was his hunting rifle and a slick of commons sense.
But this wasn’t a wolf. It wasn’t a bear, or a cougar.
It had came down the mountain with the spring melt, and whatever it was, it was smart. He had found no fur, no scat. No fresh kills, no dens or nests. When it followed, it walked in own tracks; he’d only discovered that when he doubled back after a nearly getting caught in a squall and found his footsteps still picked out in the snow nearly as fresh as when he’d left them, if a little deeper.
Like so many predators, the nights were when it was at its boldest. It never came too close while he worked around the cabin during the day, whether he was replenishing his stores of fire-wood or starting the post-winter repairs. Hux never saw it then, never so much as heard it, but he could feel the weight of a watchful gaze on all the softest parts of him. He kept his rifle beside the axe and the woodpile; somehow, it did little to comfort him, but time to worry and fret and hide away was not something he couldn’t afford.
Darkness came creeping back over the trees; the days were quickly growing longer after months of night, but the hours of light were feeble and fleeting still. Once the sun went down, the cold at that time of year could still kill a man quicker than any beast, so it was time to retire inside, to bar the door and draw the heavy curtains, and set about his cooking pot on the fire. It was a lonely life and a hard one, especially having known the kiss of luxury and power in his relative youth, but a man could learn to love the simplicity of it. A man could learn to love the loneliness, out of necessity if nothing else.
Hux snuffed out the lanterns and let the fire die down before climbed into a bed built for two, piled with a punishingly poor selection of furs and quilts. The silence of night smothered like its own blanket, and what little sound there was would be damped by the snow – dampened, but not swallowed entirely.
He had became familiar with the sound of his hunter’s uneven gait; he assumed it was somehow injured from the off-beat, almost clumsy footfalls – animals that stalked humans usually were, and so he had also assumed at first that it would either die or attack within a day or two. That had been nearly two weeks ago, and it had circled his cabin every night since. On the third night, sick of his disturbed sleep, Hux had unbarred the door and knocked it wide, ready to confront the sickly beast; he stood on his porch with rifle in hand, and watched something dark slither into the gloom of the treeline. He’d fired a single shot after it, hitting one of the pines in a shower of bark splinters.
The warning shot didn’t work. It had came back the very next night, and every night since. Hux didn’t try to catch it again; he didn’t so much as twitch the curtains. He lay in bed and listened to it circle the cabin with a belly full of ice until the meek light of dawn began to scratch at his window, and he could pull together an hour or so of meagre rest. Something had to change – and it did. On that night, the door to cabin began to rattle.
It had started with scratching at first, so light he almost couldn’t make it out at first, then gradually louder until it forced Hux to sit up in bed, eyes fixed to the sliver of moonlight that oozed under his door. It flickered, interrupted; the handle shook again with a greater violence, twisting back and forth. Hux reached for his rifle left propped against the nightstand before he got up, heart in his mouth, the short hairs on the back of his neck on end. He crossed to the door, floorboards creaking beneath his uncertain feet. For a long moment, he simply stood and watched the door shake until finally – finally, it was too much. He struck the door with the butt of his rifle, as hard as he could manage, and the commotion outside stopped instantly.
A breath hung on the wind, a soft rasping gasp that was entirely human-inhuman.
“Hux?”
Weakness washed over him like a cold wave, robbing him of his own breath. God help him, he knew that voice in just one word, though it had never been so thin and reedy before.
“Hux, please,” the voice said, “Christ, it’s so cold. Please let me in.”
“I can’t do that,” Hux said, and he fought to keep his own voice from wavering. It hurt just to hear him again, so clearly in need, “You know I can’t.”
“I’m soaked to the bone, Hux. I haven’t eaten in days,” there was another rattle of the handle and Hux readjusted his grip on his rifle. He had to pull himself together. He had to knit anger out of his hurt, “If you don’t let me in, you’re going to find me frozen to your porch come morning.”
“You’re not getting in here, Ren,” Hux said, “You better be on your way.”
“Why?”
rattle rattle
A voice like dry leaves. Like brittle twigs that snapped when trod upon. A voice he’d heard every morning, every day, every night since they’d left the world behind together; a voice that had said I hate you as often as it had said I love you, and still left Hux aching for both.
“Hux, why?”
scratch scratch
“I thought you loved me Hux.”
“I did love you,” Hux blurted, teeth clenched. He’d meant to ignore it until dawn chased him away again and he could make a break for the nearest town. It was more than a day’s hike away but there would be no choice, but even that chance was looking slimmer by the second, “That’s why I put you in the ground myself, Ren, so the birds wouldn’t get you. The cold took you that winter and I dug your goddamn grave with my own two hands. So no, I won’t let you in.”
Hux pressed the barrel flush to the wood of the door. It shook and jumped beneath it.
Bluebird by r2q5, 15k / Due to childhood trauma, Hux is terrified of doctors.
Psychomachia by for_autumn_i_am, 75k / By the time the events of SW:TFA unfold, Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren are bitter exes. This is what happened before.
The Cause and End of Movement by echoist, 19k / Hux seems a bit strange after the loss of Starkiller. Disaffected. Disconnected. When beautifully designed eggs start showing up at his door around a holiday he remembers from childhood, things get a lot … stranger.
Little Bird by solohux, 31k / Hux goes missing and Kylo finds him in a place that’s extremely strong with the Dark Side. The consequences of Hux’s captivity are nothing like Kylo could have predicted.
To Each of Us, Our Own Assigned Delusion by Vadianna, 9k / The First Order Personnel Counseling Hotline is staffed by sensitivity officers well-trained in dealing with personal issues that arise during service to the First Order.
Flyboys by Gefionne, 174k wip / Armitage Hux, pilot in the Royal Air Force, has finally gotten command of his own squadron.
Stand Inside Your Love by _Melodic_, 38k / What began as two lonely souls finding a clever way out of their social and familial obligations soon turned into something else—something inexplicable, inevitable, and irrevocable.
Climbing the Curved Earth by Harlanhardway, 51k / Ben just got back from an expedition up Everest when he meets a red-haired climber that he doesn’t quite know what to make of.
If the slipper fits by try_reset, 55k / Armitage is the son of a kitchen woman, a lowly servant in the Hux House. Ben Organa is the Prince of the kingdom. They meet one day, in the depths of the Woods.
Emberarmie by SideraMori, 50k wip / Cinderella lives her life being pious and good, and so she gets her happy ending. Hux is neither of those things.
A Father’s Legacy by Sweets_Thief, 33k wip / Left as the primary carer of his baby brother by his father in his will when Brendol passed, Hux’s life is thrown into chaos.
Pioneers by hollycomb, 45k wip / Hux did all right for himself for a while. Then he fell in love.
AU:
The Apotheosis of Fox Hux by theascetic, 35k / Overseeing the First Order colonization of an uncharted wilderness planet, General Hux has a fateful encounter with a mystical, ancient power that leaves him irreversibly changed.
Blood’s Perimeter by Gefionne, 10k wip / As an illegitimate son, Hux was thrown into the First Order’s stormtrooper program as a child, in hopes that he would disappear, but he not only survives, he flourishes.
Scales of Gold by TheZ1337, 10k / Kylo Ren is a merfolk hunter. When he finds Armitage Hux swimming in a rural river, he begins to fall for him.
LIGHT SIDE AU:
The Way to a Man’s Heart by Gigi_Sinclair, 12k / When the Empire crumbled, four-year-old Armitage Hux escaped to the New Republic with his mother. Many years later, Jedi padawan Ben Solo encounters them living a quiet existence on a pastoral planet.
Butterflies and Hurricanes by bioticnerfherder, 34k wip / Senator Armitage Hux knows peace in the galaxy is under threat – and the Resistance are the only ones doing anything about it.
HUMAN AU:
Bad Things by EllaBesmirched, 103k / Detective Ben Solo has never met a crime scene he can’t read like an open book. That is, until The General killings started.
a harmonious entity by brawlite, 17k wip / When Hux’s best friend Phasma goes missing, Hux travels to the mountains of rural Montana to investigate the mysterious cult, the First Order, that Hux believes to be behind her disappearance.
Empire State of Mind by TeamRedhead, 232k / With hope of a brighter future diminishing every day, Ben feels trapped. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks, and when he does, he knows he will never be able to recover on his own.
Base Fee by Ezlebe, 13k / Ren takes a deep breath, thumb hovering over the stark-white letters of his own damned address, and wonders how this could even be possible.
Because I Knew That You Would Be Alright by elfriniol, 28k / The flurry of emotion and action and violence that was Ben Solo intrigued him to no end, and not only as the fuel for sexual escapades. Ben was everything Hux in his prudence was not.
HUMAN AU, BENARMIE:
Ace of Spades by betts, 62k wip / Sometimes it feels like everything’s connected. Like with strings. And if I could just see the strings, I could pull them. I could make things do what I wanted.
age of consent by substanceblack, 31k wip / Cue two socially alienated teens accepting each other’s company after a series of shared mishaps, and more making out than is probably healthy.
Big Brothers AU by frapandfurious, squire, 86k / This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go at all. And now the sun was beginning to set and instead of fighting, their brothers were flirting.
Would Smell As Sweet by Arya_Greenleaf, 32k / Annoyed with his crew, Armitage abandons them at a cliché warehouse party in favor of seeking his own entertainment. He finds it in the arrogant front-man of the group performing for the intoxicated masses.
One Song Glory by bioticnerfherder, 33k / Over two years after graduating from Juilliard, Ben decides he wants to reunite the Knights of Ren, a cover band they formed to make rent as college kids in NYC
Act Naturally by theweddingofthefoxes, 6k / Not long after the death of his father, novelist Armitage Hux decides to do something to get himself out of his rut: direct a community theater production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Away, I’d Rather Sail Away by theweddingofthefoxes, 11k / Ben really, really did not want to go to the beach with his parents. But when he meets a cute stranger on the next balcony over, he’s beginning to feel better about giving in to their request.
HUMAN AU, OF THE PORN VARIETY:
Pounded in the Butt by the Necessity My Poverty Affords Me by Gefionne, 9k / A. HuXXX is a cult figure in supernatural gay erotica circles. He’s written it all: unicorn gang bangs, were-rabbit butt invasions, mothmen with eight packs turning you gay. But he has a secret: he’s done none of the wild stuff he writes about; he’s a virgin.
Save Room For Dessert by firstordershitposting, 16k / Kylo Ren, alias Lord Ten Inches, is an amateur pornstar filming himself and the clients of his devirgining service for the internet and his geriatric neighbors.
They All Float Down Here by K_dAzrael, 7k / Hux seemed to be the only one in town not bothered by the new trend of Creepy Clowns™ terrorizing the neighborhood.
In Real Life by unicornsandbutane, 47k / It’s kind-of an astounding coincidence that Hux’s favourite camguy lives in the same city as he does
BONUS:
Getaway by hollycomb, 54k / Techie’s reactions to fresh air, sunlight and fish are mixed, and then Matt drops a bombshell that could shatter the comforts of their little world together permanently. / techienician + kylux
Prompt : a gold arm-ring given as a reward for success in battle: Kylux Viking AU
(Also inspired by Jeusus’ two recent Viking AU artworks)
—————–
Ben kept his hand steady and slow as he used a spade to finish clearing the hard-packed dirt from the edge of the object buried beneath. Three days ago, the team had struck wood at a depth of seven feet, just where his research and analysis of aerial scans had predicted. They’d quickly marked out the orientation and length of the site, and excavated the soil evenly, making a pit almost seven feet deep, twenty feet long, and seven feet wide. Mitaka and his assistants were carefully sifting through all of that dirt for any fragmentary artefacts that could be used to date and identify the site.
Going by what he could see of the wooden structure that he had already managed to clear the earth away from today, he was certain that what they had found was a ship burial, probably Anglo-Saxon. He was now working in an area right in the middle of the ship, each turn of his spade bringing something with a curved edge free of the ground that had covered it for centuries. He patiently followed the curve around until it was plain that he was looking at the remnant of a round shield, its metal boss and rim rusted into clumps barely distinguishable from the dirt still caked on them. He gently lifted it free and passed it up to be placed in a tray and wrapped to prevent accelerated degradation now that it was exposed to the air.
A few scrapes more began to reveal the outline of what had to be a sword, and elation began to outweigh caution – this was definitely a ship burial, and all the evidence suggested that it was intact. A find of this level of rarity and possible historical significance would make his career. He finished detaching the sword from the ground and decided it was time to call his thesis supervisor at Oxford to let her know what they’d discovered thus far.
Two hours later, he was methodically (and respectfully) working his way up the scant skeletal remains of the leader or warrior whose gravesite this was, when a flick of the brush he was using to clear debris delicately from the humerus revealed a glint of metal undimmed by the passage of time. A few more flicks and most of it was exposed: a finely woven gold armband, and it was not Anglo-Saxon as he had been expecting, but Viking. An inexplicable feeling of sadness came over him and he could not stop himself from reaching out to touch the armband, almost with reverence. Who were you? he wondered. The slamming of several car doors broke this reverie and he heard the voice of his advisor.
“Ben? Ben, come up out of there. I’ve brought someone to see your find.”
He stepped lightly up and out of the pit and as he turned to greet the visitors, his gaze locked with that of an unknown man; a chill passed through and over his entire body and he could not look away from the man’s green eyes or his halo of red-gold hair.
“Ben, I’d like you to meet Armitage Hux – he’s with the British Museum.”
—————–
Armitage yanked his sword from the side of the Mercian warrior he’d just slain and quickly scanned the roiling melee of men and horses for Kylo. It was obvious to him that the tide of the battle had turned in their favor. Just as he caught sight of Kylo, one of the Mercians spotted his chance to take down the prince and struck at his unprotected back. Everything slowed down and the sounds of swords and axes and pikes striking shields and bodies died away as Armitage sprinted across the few yards that separated him from Kylo. He ran practiced fingers over the bleeding wound then gently turned his husband over onto his back. Kylo was conscious but keeping his eyes tightly closed against the pain. Saying only “I will return,” and checking that the prince’s men were prepared to remove him from the battlefield, Armitage rose to his feet with cold clarity of purpose.
The man who struck his husband down would not live to see another hour. His husband, whom he had not wanted to wed, not wanted to know, not wanted to care about. But his wyrd, his fate, said otherwise. His hand tightened its grip on his sword and his other arm raised slightly to tilt his shield slightly outward from his body as he surveyed the tumult in search of the one who had dared to strike Kylo…and there he was. In utter calmness and with a singularity of intent, Armitage ran, sword arm raising in preparation to strike. Slashing, stabbing, thrusting…the enemy warriors between him and his prey were mere obstacles and scarcely registered in his awareness as he cut them down. He batted down another one who had rushed up aside him with the edge of his shield and stalked forward into the now empty space around the Mercian.
Righteous energy suffused his body and he knew the gods were with him as he ran the man through with one vicious upthrust of his sword. He put his booted foot on the body to hold it down while he drew his sword out and only then did he slowly become aware that the battle had ended. There were no more sounds of fighting, only the groans of wounded men. Uneasily, he realized that all the men – men of Mercia and men of Wessex alike – in his vicinity were staring at him. The iron scent of blood was thick in his nose; looking down, he saw with shock that he was almost entirely covered in it. He ignored the awed and horrified whispers of “berserker!” and walked away from the killing grounds, thinking only of finding Kylo again and making sure that he was safe, and stayed safe.
“Armitage. I have something for you,” Kylo said. The wound has healed well over the past few months, Armitage thought with satisfaction as he surveyed the naked form of his husband. Firelight gilded the sheen of sweat that picked out the contours of his muscular back where he lay, sated, on the furs of their bed.
Kylo rolled over and retrieved a woolen pouch from the low table beside the bed. The little gold rings braided into his hair clinked softly against each other as Armitage sat up, very curious now to see what was in the bag. Kylo opened it and pulled out a finely woven gold armband, and it was not Anglo-Saxon as he had been expecting, but Viking – from his own people.
“As I understand it, this is a mark among your people of a warrior’s brave deeds and battles won,” Kylo said, a little shyly. “You saved my life and rained terror upon the Mercians they’ll not soon forget…you have given up so much of your own ways to live here with me, so I wished to honor you after the fashion of your land.”
“Oh…Kylo.” For a moment, he could not speak. He took the armband and ran his thumb over the intricate pattern of gold wires. He opened the clasp and wound it around his upper arm, leaning over for Kylo to refasten the closure.
“I shall never take it off.”
Holy shit, I love the different takes on that AU but this one shot here put my heart into its little hands and squeezed really hard
yo where is my epic kylux fake relationship fic? where is it?? give it to me.
Kay hear me out:
The First Order is trying to strike a deal with some small-but-resource-rich planet from the Corporate Sector. General Hux gets invited to a series of very formal dinners and events as a representative of the First Order. Only after agreeing, in the flowery, obtuse language required by this planet’s culture, does he learn that it is a major faux pas to show up at these kinds of events without a date in tow. (Mitaka has to, very meekly, break the news. Poor Mitaka.)
And you know, Hux *would* take Mitaka, or Phasma, but gosh it just doesn’t look right to bring your subordinates out to dinner seven nights in a row. Dammit.
So here’s Hux, head in hand, nursing yet another blossoming headache because how’s he gonna solve THIS problem, this is not what he signed up for, he’s a tactician and a strategist not politician, when who should waltz in but Kylo Fucking Ren, bitching about the power of the dark side or the bitter taste of his enemies’ ashes or some shit, and Hux just cannot today, okay?
“For the love of stars, Ren, not today, alright? Just. Not today.”
Ren takes a deep breath, straightening up to his full height. You’d think the slouching would start to hurt his shoulders at some point but he’s a marathon lurker, a galactic-class loiterer. He opens his mouth to protest but Hux cuts him off. “I’ve got a backlog of troopers overdue for reconditioning, they’re starting to get antsy, and Phasma’s up my ass about the drills I canceled last week, engineering won’t stop crying about the sluggish converter on Engine 4–as if I can just fabricate a new converter out of caf and rations, do you have any idea what kind of shortage we’re working with these days?–and now Mitaka’s just informed me,” Hux thumps a closed fist on his desktop, “that the Orgelench are going to get their underlayers in a twist if I don’t show up to this blasted week of pre-negotiation buffets with some foppish date on my arm.”
Hux stares up at Ren, and realizes, briefly, that he has perhaps overstepped some boundary, vented his frustrations in the wrong direction. He’s already forming some cutting dismissal on his tongue when Ren speaks.
“Do you–” he pauses, the voice modulator picking up on the hitch in his breath. “I could do it.”
Hux chastises himself for allowing his brow to furrow so deeply. “What?”
“Your. Accompaniment. I’ll do it.”
Internally Hux blanches at the idea. “That sounds miserable. I think I’d rather just blow up the entire planet.” It’s too bad his pet project isn’t yet completed, or he might have done it already.
Ren shuffles uncharacteristically. “My mo–In my past life. Before. I am…somewhat acquainted with. Politics. The way of doing things,” he explains.
Hux can’t help the look of surprise on his face. He’s really not doing well with controlling his emotions today. “Well you could have fooled me,” he says loudly.
“I don’t like it. But I know how it goes.”
Hux’s head is in his hand again. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this. “Fine,” he sighs. “Get the schedule from Mitaka. You’ll have to take off the helmet,” he warns.
A curt nod from said helmet. “I understand it is customary to eat at such affairs,” Ren jokes snidely.
“Well, let’s hope they provide something that will sustain you as well as your precious Force,” Hux snaps back. Ren is already turning to leave. “And find something decent to wear,” Hux calls after Ren as the Knight turns into the corridor. “Something that doesn’t smell like an ash pit,” he grumbles to himself, turning back to his work.
Here it is. Exactly what I want – AS A COMPLETE TEASE.
Hux gripped the tiny plate so hard his knuckles were white under his pristine gloves. He barely touched anything on his plate- everything entirely too sweet or salty for his ration-accustomed palate. He stared in contempt at the rows and rows of colorful dishes lined on tables along each wall. The Orgelench decor and attire was steeped in rich history, Hux was sure, but at the moment the high ceilings and elaborate dress were obnoxious at best. Hux himself was in his best parade uniform and still stood out as the only military man at the gala. Mitaka’s meticulously compiled list of diplomats and plans to propose to each of them sat on the edge of his mind. Hux knew he was here for a reason, that he had been entrusted with an important task for the First Order, but he did not trust his own temperment at the moment to approach a single person at this superfluous event. Not only would he have to swallow his own fury, he would have to endure the pitying glances of the race he was trying to woo for being dateless. He suppresed another fresh wave of rage at the thought. This was all Ren’s fault. No, he was the fool for ever thinking Ren could be relied on. He paced the shuttle that afternoon waiting for the idiot Knight to appear in vain. Finally, he stormed down to Ren’s quarters himself to drag him out to their dinner. There was no way Kylo phrakking Ren was going to make him late. He banged on the door and screamed at the stupid man to come out this instant or so help me-! Silence. Hux gave the door a particularly vicious kick, Fine you stupid Knight don’t come out I’ll just leave without you! I don’t need you! It was not his finest moment. And that was how General Hux found himself furiously alone and at a loss as to how to proceed. Slowly, he heard the din of polite conversation shift toward soft gasps and murmurs. He looked up from his unappetizing plate to see the eyes of the crowd pointed toward the entrance. He turned to behold a glittering figure step forward, crowd parting before it like water. The figure was pale, skin so bright and unblemished that it seemed to reflect the lights of the room. The face was even more breathtakingly white, accentuating the noble features of the figure’s facial bone structure. Hux faintly recognized the makeup, knew that it was important to this prince or king, that the red dots on each cheek and red upper lip and split bottom meant something. The figure’s striking black hair was pulled back into intricate knots at the base of their head, silver weaving in and out. A plunging black gown exhibited a strong chest beneath more woven silver strands, feathers at the end of each shoulder to broaden the figure even more. Hux instinctively knew the wardrobe elevated the figure from man to a god a war, an angel of death. Those dark eyes spelled disaster to anyone that looked into them, boring straight into their soul… The glittering creature stopped before him and Hux belatedly realized he was the object of the beautiful man’s attention. He wracked his mind for the diplomat files Mitaka gave him as he watched, breathless, as the figure took his hand, bowed over it, and kissed his ring finger. He still could not deciper who this could be as the man looked up at him through his eyelashes with a wickedly brilliant smile. He finally pieced it together when an unfamiliar voice with a familar cadence drifted up from those full lips. “The universe has brought us together on this beautiful night and it has made me glad.” Hux swallowed- it’s just a sappy Orgelench saying it doesn’t mean anything- and breathed out, “Ren?” Ren straightened with an even wider smile, “Forgive my tardiness, General Hux.” He leaned in close to the General and took his arm, whispering into his ear, “Sometimes it is more prudent to leave an impression than to be punctual. Now no one will be able to ignore us.” Before Hux could muster together a coherent response, a pair of Orgelench’s approached them and Hux tore his attention away from Ren to greet them.
The evening was a whirlwind of introductions, simpering pleasantries, and the sort of coded small talk that Hux had never mastered. He preferred straightforwardness in all things, rigid expectations, orders given and received. This ridiculous back and forth might as well have been conducted in another language. Ren proved adept, however, at navigating the labyrinth of social intricacies to steer each conversation in their favor. Without Ren at his side, Hux wouldn’t have known the proper hand to shake, the right cheek to kiss, or the right style of dance to each miserable tune.
It was immediately clear to Hux that the Orgelench had appalling taste in music. Dancing, however, required a minimum of words exchanged and came as a welcome break from what amounted to political subterfuge. It was rhythm, it was muscle memory, and Hux still remembered enough from Academy formals to prove more than competent partner. Ren seemed surprised by his grace as he led them across the floor.
“Why General,” he said, his cordial tone turning sly. “It seems you have hidden depths.”
“You have no idea,” Hux replied, only realizing his mistake after the words had left his tongue.
“Is that so?” Ren asked, his genteel tone at odds with the amusement shaping his mouth.
Hux made an annoyed sound and attempted to increase the distance between them. Ren, it seemed, had other plans. The music changed, and his hand slid slowly down Hux’s side to rest at his hip.
“This requires a change of pace,” Ren advised, and Hux hoped to all the stars that he meant the music. Ren stepped back, then to the side, then back again before reaching out to take Hux’s hand. Ren turned to one side before curling back in even closer than before. The lights were low, the music awful, and Ren’s right hand just kept moving. Hux was sure it was part of the dance. It had to be.
Ren’s long fingers threaded easily through his own, and Hux began to feel dizzy. It was the rich food, he decided, or the heavy fabric of his dress uniform. Honestly, no one could blame him for feeling ill after enduring the snobbery of these well-dressed barracudas for an entire evening.
The feathers at Ren’s shoulders tickled his nose and Hux swallowed hard. His vision swam, the room spun, and suddenly there was a hand on his cheek. It was cool where Hux was flushed and he tried very, very hard not to lean into the touch.
“Perhaps we should take our leave,” Ren suggested, and – was that concern in his expression? No. Ren was probably just working out how best to use this incident to his advantage. It had likely all been a ploy, Hux realized. The entire evening, Ren’s ridiculous performance –
But Ren was already saying the correct things, making the right excuses, and towing Hux along in his wake. It didn’t sound as though Ren was very sorry at all. He plucked a flute of weak green liquid on their way out and pushed it into Hux’s hand.
“Drink that,” Ren said, and Hux had the odd sense that he was being ordered. He hesitated and Ren rolled his eyes. “You’ll feel better.”
“I don’t even know what this is,” Hux complained, leaning down to sniff at the drink. Ren fixed him with a glare and the thought filtered through his mind that dressed like this, regal and fierce, Ren could have an entire nation on its knees.
He lifted the flute to his lips and swallowed it down as directed. He hoped it wasn’t poisoned.
“You should really listen to me more often,” Ren advised with a touch of superiority.
If there had been any left in the glass, Hux might have thrown it at him. The liquid left a strangely herbal aftertaste in his mouth and the only thing Hux could think of was getting back to the shuttle, back on the Finalizer, and back to his blessedly empty quarters.
“Come on, then,” Ren said, wrapping his fingers lightly around Hux’s wrist. His elation was spoiled not ten seconds later when Ren continued. “Our quarters should be in the East Wing.”
Hux had almost forgotten that six long days of banquets and boot licking stretched out before them.
Hux squared his shoulders and reminded himself sternly that a good commander could excel in any arena. Still, he had never considered that he might meet his death in a ballroom instead of in glorious battle.
dispatches from the dumpster 