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kikyan · 3 years

Text

Secrets

Yandere Light Yagami x Reader

TW: Yandere, Mentions, and depictions of Sexual Assault towards the Reader,

I do not condone these actions in real life and this is purely fictional and should be taken as fiction.

Check at the end for the yandere discord link if you’re interested in joining!

A loud gasp left [Reader], eyes wide and sweat covering their body in fright. Same shit, different day. Another nightmare and one that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t run away. Sitting up in their bed, they held their head with their hands. Rubbing their eyes slightly to get accustomed to their surroundings. Turning their head slightly, they were met with their alarm clock that read ‘4:39’.

‘Shit…’

It was too early to wake up but they couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard they tried. They looked over to their desk to see their homework from last night. It was an essay about the justice system and morals/ethics that was based on a book they were reading in class. It wasn’t completed just yet because [Reader] lost the motivation to write it, but since they were awake they might put their extra time to some use. Walking over to their desk, they reached for the chair before stopping.

‘ I should get a drink of water…’

[Reader] quietly left their room, making sure not to disturb their mother who was surely sleeping in. As they went to the kitchen, they reached for a cup of water and gulped it down in one go. Rubbing their throat to soothe an ache, they went for another cup but took it upstairs. Sitting at their desk and looking over to obtain a pencil, scanning the contents of the assignment, requirements, and what was already written. It wasn’t a lot, just their name and date. Starting with a small thesis that highlighted their main points, they scoffed before looking out their window. It was pitch dark but what they were trying to see wasn’t anything in particular, except for the home that was next to them. It was abandoned and no one was inhabiting it at the moment, but there were so many memories that rest in the very pavement that makes up the home.

Glaring at the house and with a scoff, determination raged inside them as they looked over to their paper. They knew what to write, they knew the feelings they wanted to convey, they knew what justice they wanted at that moment, ethical or not. By the time they finished, it was almost time to get ready so [Reader] ensured that their paper was safely stored away before going about their morning routine to prepare for school. As they finished and were about to head off, they stopped right in front of the house next to them. It was pretty, but beauty isn’t judged from the outside but the inside, the only sad thing is that inside it was like the core of a rotten apple. Inside was horrid and distasteful, but that was downplaying what really transpired in that house. Whereas the outside of the apple was certainly more appealing and so was the house as if it weren’t untouched by time itself. [Reader] bit their lip before turning away from the house, it was best forgotten right now. Making their way to class, they sat down in their assigned seat waiting for the teacher. Looking to the side staring into space, they didn’t notice that someone took his seat next to them, none other than Light Yagami. It wasn’t until they turned to look at their peers did they notice him next to them reading a book. Light looked up and turned to face them, a small smile before saying ‘Good morning’. [Reader] nodded and returned the greeting, before facing the other way, until his voice woke them from his trance.

“ Are you alright [Reader]? You seem awfully quiet.”

“ Just tired, what about you?”

“ Same old. Did you have any trouble with the assignment?”

[Reader] was quiet for a second, Light reading into it but [Reader] noticed and quickly replied with a ‘No, not really.’

“ I see, did you write about anything particular?”

“ W-!”

“ Good morning class, I’ll be taking attendance now so please settle down in your assigned seat.”

[Reader] mentally thanked the teacher for making it in the nick of time. Light Yagami, was an exceptional student no doubt, taking both regular and additional classes yet still managing to get his assignments all turned in on time. He was often paired with [Reader] for group or partnered assignments so they developed a bit of an acquaintance. Friends maybe but anything else would be over-stretching it. They were left pondering his question, yeah they were a bit close but not that much, was there a specific reason for him asking them questions?

‘ No I’m just reading into it too much, it must be with the cases that are arising with these so-called criminals dropping dead. Maybe he wanted to know if what I was writing was directed towards that? Even then, what interest does he have with that-?’

A soft nudge on their arm woke them up, turning to look at Light in confusion.

“[Reader’s Full Name]”.

“ Here.”

The teacher went off to call more names, [Reader] turned to look at Light who just smiled in return.

“ Sorry, the teacher was nearing your name and you seemed out of it, thought I would get you back.”

“ O-oh, thank you I guess…”

That was the end of the conversation, Light facing the class and paying attention with [Reader] trying to do the same but their mind was clouded with both this morning and Light.

‘ What was that about….?’

It wasn’t until the end of class where the teacher offered to collect the papers but was called to attend an emergency.

“ Class representative, do me a favor and collect the papers and drop them off at my office. Excuse me.”

With that, the teacher was gone and the representative gathered the class’s attention. They began to pass up their paper and the bell for dismissal rang. Everyone proceeded to head out, groups forming and discussing after-school activities such as the arcade or a sweets shop. [Reader] packed their bags and proceeded to walk towards the entrance until Light stopped them.

“ [Reader]! Would you like to walk home together, I don’t have cram school to-!?”

“ Yagami! I was wondering if you wanted to help me deliver these papers to the teacher’s office?”

[Reader] saw this as a chance to deny his offer, “ Sorry Light, but maybe some other time?”

“ Sure.”

Light walked with the class representative and headed to the teacher’s office. The representative attempted to make an idle chat with Light, but he wasn’t interested. He replied softly and short, the walk there was awkward but it was even more when the teacher wasn’t present in their office.

“ I-ll goes and try to find them, are you okay with staying here until then?”

“ Of course.”

When the representative left, Light averted his gaze to the papers and lightly skimmed the names until he got to the one he wanted to read upon.

‘ [Reader’s Full Name]’

He grabbed their paper and skimmed the content of the assignment, intrigued with their interpretation of the justice system. While his ideas clashed a bit with theirs, he was understanding of their origin. No matter, he would just have to fix that, change it, he just had to show them how the world truly is and how better it would be without those fears. Upon further reading, he began to see how they agreed with Kira in terms of punishment for the criminals. There was more but this was certainly interesting to find more of their thinking pattern, was it possible that Light had found someone worthy of sharing his ideals?

He contemplated keeping their paper but he realized that if he took it [Reader] would probably get missing in their assignment. The teacher came into the room and thanked the representative and Light for helping them. They both excused themselves and Light proceeded to walk away, his thoughts on [Reader].

‘ You seem awfully interested in that other human. By any chance could it be that you’re willing to let them know about the death note?’

Light closed his eyes and avoided speaking, he still was in the city and not closer to the streets by the houses that were a bit more secluded.

‘ Hey, Light!’

“ How many times have I told you Ryuk, talking to me when we are in public is risky and as a matter of fact I may.”

‘ You think us talking is risky, isn’t letting that other human know riskier?’

“ Yes, sharing information about the Death Note is more than risky, but it may be better to have more than two people knowing about it. If our views match up they can be both a great partner and a good alibi when people start suspecting me. If our views don’t match up, then I’ll simply have their memories erased.”

‘You’re going to let them touch the Death Note too?’

“ In life, you have several people, those who have to see to believe or those who will place their faith blindly in some people. [Reader] doesn’t strike me as the latter so I’ll go with the first one. Besides, if I told them and they did turn, erasing their memories would be a bit more work and risky.”

‘Okay but why them?’

“ Because…[Reader] is someone who you can either bring up or break down. [Reader] is someone who won’t throw a hysteria when faced with the unknown and based on this essay I suspect that there is more to them than what they lead on. That is an advantage over them, but if they step wrong it could also be their downfall. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed my conversations with [Reader], they say so little but so loudly at the same time. Quite interesting.”

‘Light has a crush on someone!’

“ I won’t waste my time on such things, right now I can’t afford to fall for that. My priority is reshaping and rebuilding this world as their new God.”

The conversation was cut short as Light went inside his home and up to his room. He examined the essay through many viewpoints and established that there must have been someone that they hated or wanted to receive punishment, but who?

[Reader] walked to their room and with a heavy sigh collapsed on their bed. Their mother was nowhere to be seen but they were probably out shopping as groceries were lying about in their kitchen. They rested for a while before heading downstairs to put the groceries away, the T.V playing in the background. It wasn’t anything serious until the news segment was announced.

‘ Breaking news! It is rumored to believe that [Inmate Name] may be released this upcoming week for good behavior. It seems that there have been sever-’

Silence. The T.V was turned off as [Reader] began panicking and hyperventilating. Memories of that morning began rushing to their head and their body began to enter into an automatic response, their knees weak but adrenaline was pumping. There was no one around them to assist them so they began to assess the situation themselves. Their heart was racing but it wasn’t anything too serious, just a panic attack and not a heart attack. They tried to steady their breathing by counting and focusing their attention on an object of some sort. They turned to a small painting of a floral garden that their mother had on the wall, they began to engrave all their focus on it trying to steady their breathing. Slowly but surely they began to calm down, but the uneasiness was still there. After a while, they grabbed a glass of water and calmly began to drink the water. The groceries were almost all put away but [Reader] left the non-perishables out as they went up to their room and began to lie on the bed. Sleep slowly overcame them, their dreams turned into nightmares.

It was a hot summer, but the kids were out and still playing out by the park. [Reader] and some neighboring kids were out and about playing tag.

“ I want to be it!”

“ No! You were it last time!”

“ How about we play rock-paper-scissors to determine who is it?”

“ Fine!”

“ ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS!”

“ Aw darn it I lost!”

“ And I didn’t win this time either!”

“ Well, the rest of you hide and I’ll go count.”

“Okay!”

The kids scattered and began hiding in some spots, [Reader] struggled to find a spot that wasn’t already claimed by the other kids. Those were all her spots that guaranteed her success, but the other kids took them. [Reader] asked if they could hide with the other kids but they all shushed them away.

[Reader] was running out of time until they heard a voice.

“ Hey [Reader] are you playing hide-n-go-seek?”

“ Y-yeah. . .”

“ Here, why don’t you hide behind me?”

A man with a warm smile offered, the man wasn’t a stranger at all to [Reader] or their family since he was their father’s co-worker and best friend.

“ Okay!”

They were hiding and they were doing a pretty good job, they weren’t at all found until they all decided to call off the game.

“ We can’t find [Reader]! Where are they?”

“ [Reader]! You win so just come out!”

“[Reader]!!”

[Reader] popped out from where the stranger was and laughed, “ So I win again!”

“ Where were you? We were so worried!”

“ I was hiding behind him!”

[Reader] pointed at the man on the bench, he waved softly. The kids felt a bit uneasy but their mothers came to collect the kids. [Reader]’s mom showed up to collect her but stopped when she saw the man. She smiled and waved at him.

“ What are you doing out here?”

“ Oh, miss [Last Name]. I was going grocery shopping when I spotted [Reader] playing. Hope I didn’t interrupt or do something wrong.”

“ No that’s quite alright, I was just surprised. Though it’s a bit late for groceries.”

“ Yes work caught up with me but I’d figured I go get something to make my dinner tonight-!?”

“ Why don’t you come to eat with us? My husband isn’t staying overnight at work so he should be home soon. In the meantime, you can help me with dinner or hang around the house? It should be fine.”

“ I don’t mean to impose on you-”

“ Please I insist, it must be so hard for a single man to balance everything. You have friends so I suggest that you start learning how to say yes and let yourself be taken care of one in a while!”

“ T-thank you [Mom’s first name].”

With that, small chatter filled their home as they prepared dinner. [Reader] was playing with their toys and even invited their family friend to join them. When their father arrived home, they sat around and ate dinner. They all had a pleasant time, laughing and smiling. Telling jokes and even discussing life and the future. It wasn’t until it was a bit too late and past [Reader’s] bedtime did he leave and give his thanks for having him over. [Reader] lay in their bed, their mother tucking them in and bidding them a good night’s rest.

“ Mom, does [Family Friend] have kids or a wife?”

“ Why the sudden question?”

“ He looks lonely and I don’t see him with kids.”

“ [Reader], he had a wife and two kids. It’s just, they are no longer here. They left.”

“ Where did they go?”

“ They went somewhere better. Now sleep [Reader].”

“Okay mommy.”

The days continued like nothing else, there would be times where the [Reader] would be taken care of by [Family Friend] because their mother had a doctor’s appointment and their father was at work. [Reader] stayed at his house, eating small snacks that he prepared for her as he sat on the couch just staring at her.

“ Hey [Family Friend], do you have a wife or kids?”

Silence loomed the room before he turned to face her and shook his head.

“ Not anymore [Reader], they all left me.”

“ Why? You’re not a bad person.”

“ Thank you, but they didn’t leave like that. Something happened to them and they are no longer here with us, but enough of that, what do you want to do?”

“ Hm, let’s play a game.”

“ Okay, a game it is!”

It was days like these that the faith one had in another human was shown. Back then people slept with their windows open and some even with the doors unlocked, but that faith was stolen from [Reader]. It was a day where both her parents were busy so their neighbor was in charge of taking care of her for a couple of hours. Nobody knows how or why it happened, but nightmares plague that home as a grim reminder that the ones we trust are just another wolf in sheep's clothing.

“ Hey, [Reader]?”

“ Yes?”

“ I want to play a game. . . but it has to be a secret.”

“ A secret?”

“ Mhm, not many people know about this game so this can be our little secret, like a secret code.”

“ Okay, but what’s the game?”

“Well. . .”

His hand lay on her shoulder, rubbing it softly before his other hand rested on his thigh, he rubbed it lightly causing her to flinch before he let go.

“ [Reader], you know I would never hurt you. . .right?”

“ Yeah. . .”

“ This isn’t hurting you, I only want to play a game. It’ll be fun for the both of us I promise, I don’t want to hurt you. . . I love you. . .”

His hand placement resumed as he went higher and lower. That was when the nightmare began, and it didn’t end for seven years.

[Reader] awoke with a loud gasp, their hands instantly reaching to their body. No one was here in their room, they had to reassure themselves over and over again before reaching over to where their clock lay. It was almost 8 pm but they decided upon bathing before doing anything else. They went to the bathroom and proceeded to bathe, using the products they deemed necessary. Once they were done, they wore comforting clothes and went to bed. Though it was hard to fall asleep in fear of that dream.

The next day they awoke earlier than usual, going on about their day and proceeding to do their morning routine. They began walking to school promptly and proceeded to go to their seat. Light walked in moments later and took his seat next to them, smiling and greeting them. The teacher soon walked in and class started all over again, nothing new was changing so why should they worry-

“ [Reader’s Last Name], see me after class.”

[Reader] looked up and panicked slightly, was it about what they wrote?

‘ It can’t be, I mean this class is crawling with Kira supporters and those who don’t, mine must have been the least controversial-’

“ [Reader], is everything okay?”

“ Y-yeah. . .”

At the end of class, [Reader] walked to their teacher’s office and waited patiently for them. Thoughts running through their head, am I going to get called out? What’s going to happen, will everyone know wh-!

“ [Reader’s Last Name], I want to discuss with you something regarding your essay submission.”

‘Shit so it was about that! Fuck what do I say-’

“ You didn’t turn it in.”

‘Huh?’

“ W-what do you mean?”

“ It was not in the pile with the others, since this isn’t a rare occasion but I remember slightly. You pulled it from your bag so I’m assuming that either the class representative lost it or it was misplaced. Would you mind rewriting it? I’ll give you an extension on it of course, but I would like it submitted by the end of next week.”

“ S-sure.”

“ That is all, have a great rest of your day [Reader’s Last Name].”

They nodded and proceeded to walk away, but anger laced their face the moment they were out of view.

‘ You’ve got to be kidding me, lost? That’s not my fault, if anything I shouldn’t have to rewrite. If they saw me, they should give me full credit!’

“ [Reader], would you like to walk home?”

They looked up to see that it was Light Yagami. They were a bit hesitant and were about to say no until they realized that it might be nice to distract their mind.

“ Sure.”

They began to walk home, but awkward silence loomed over them.

“ If you don’t mind me asking, what did the teacher want to talk to you about?”

“ Just that. . . my assignment was missing and I have to redo it. I turned it in but it’s lost apparently, did you notice the paper was missing or if the rep lost it?”

“ No sorry, but I can help you work on it if you’d like.”

“ Thank you, I might take you up on that.”

“ Well we’ve arrived at my home, why don’t you come in?”

“ I shouldn’t impose-”

“ Nonsense, any friend of Light is welcomed here!”

They both turned around to face an older woman, one that held some resemblance to Light and was assumed as his mother.

“ O-oh I should-”

“ Please I insist!”

With that, it was decided that [Reader] would stay over and have dinner with them. In the meantime, they were up in Light’s room preparing to do the assignment. Once they got settled down and his mother brought up snacks, did the real purpose of his invite begin. Halfway through discussing the thesis and beginning, did Light begin to ask strange questions?

“ [Reader], how do you feel about Kira?”

“ Why?”

“ No reason, I guess it’s all the publicity Kira has been getting that I assume you may have your own opinion.”

“ Well. . .Kira punishes criminals so without a doubt yes, I guess you can say that I'm somewhat thankful that Kira is there. However, there are some flaws with that, let’s say petty crime and theft aren’t punishable by death, Kira would only be acting like an executioner, not a judge. Yet, I think that Kira is going about it the right way. The difference is that some people attempt to stop crime, you can’t stop what is happening because someone will always stand up or do something, but you can control crime.”

Light remained quiet before speaking silently, “ What would you do if Kira were sitting in front of you?”

“ What?”

“ What would you do if Kira were sitting in front of you? What would you do if Kira was me, [Reader].”

Silence overcame [Reader], thinking about their answer they spoke.

“ If you were Kira, I would question your methods and motives.”

“ Hm, interesting. Would you really like to see how Kira kills?”

“ What?”

“ Normally talking about this out in the open to a stranger would be a bit risky, I wouldn’t by any means do this, that is if I were Kira. Yet, it seems that if I were Kira I could trust you based on what you wrote in your essay.”

Light unfolded the essay that was in his pocket, showing it to [Reader]. They were a bit confused and in shock, why did Light have their essay, and what was he going on about?

“ Why do you have my essay? I didn’t think that this would be interesting for someone like you Light.”

“ Well, let’s say I’ve had an interest in you for a long time, ever since we met you could say. Unlike most of our peers not only were you more open-minded but you thought for yourself, not letting others blindly tell you what to think. Based on this essay, I can trust you. . .[Reader], I’m Kira.”

Confusion stuck them, did they really want to humor him, but even then Light might have been Kira. He not only had the brains to be in hiding for so long, but his ideas were lined up a bit with most people.

“ I’ll bite, are you really Kira?”

“ I am, now would you like to know who I do it?”

“ . . .Sure.”

[Reader] walked closer, watching as Light revealed a black notebook with the words ‘Death Note’ written on it. They were confused, to say the least, but they also knew better than to laugh it off and to let him explain.

“ This is a death note, a notebook that allows me to write the name of an individual and they die. I can choose the method of death and time, the only other requirement aside from their full name is an image of their face.”

Light stood there, with both a serious face yet a smirk lightly playing at his lips. Was this true? They were about to ask more questions until Light interrupted them, “ Upon reading your essay, I think that there is someone who you want gone. Here try it for yourself, touch the notebook.”

[Reader] stiffened a bit before nodding, they hesitantly went to touch the notebook. If Light was Kira and was telling the truth, [Reader] instantly became an accessory to the crime, to make matters worse now that Light told them, based on their reaction they could either die or live. Upon touching the notebook, they were met with a horrid creature looking at them with bloodshot red eyes and a smirk on their lips. They looked anything but human and as [Reader] was about to react, they stopped. Light smiled at the sight, they were smart no doubt about it.

‘ Screaming would alert the mom and who knows what that would cause. On one hand, I could tell his mom that I want to leave but I'll surely die by knowing his identity. If I tell his mom about her son being Kira I would be mocked at and made fun of, all I can do is play along for right now.’

“ Open the notebook, look at all the names. With this, we can rid the world of criminals and clean up the streets, isn’t it great?”

“ Isn’t your father a policeman? Why would you-“

“ Because what they are doing isn’t enough, crimes inspire other crimes and it will never stop. By controlling crime with fear we can make the world a better place for kindhearted people like us. You can’t stop crime because it will always happen, but you can control it, that's what my father and the others do. They try to control it through the system, but the system is flawed. With this, we can control it better than they can. Here [Reader], write someone’s name, I know you want to.”

[Reader] was given a name and the notebook was flipped to a blank piece of paper. Light was awaiting their actions as [Reader] looked uncomfortable at the concept. Who was to say that they could play judge and executioner? They were contemplating until the T.V was playing the news channel about [Inmate Name]. Their heart stopped and Light made note of that, he walked over to the T.V and turned up the volume. The sickening sound of his name being played over and over again was like knives or nails on the chalkboard. A horrid sound, the sound of the end, it was a grim reminder that their life was in someone’s hand.

‘ [Inmate Name] will be released today at 4 PM, here we have the news studio wanting to interview him. This was the man that escaped the death penalty due to lack of evidence-‘

‘ lack of evidence?’

The room went cold, their heart sank. He was leaving jail, because of the lack of evidence? Their breath started to increase as tears ran down their cheeks, they rapidly shook their head in attempts to calm themselves and began counting.

‘ aren’t I evidence enough? He abused me. . . I am the evidence. I am the walking and living proof of his crimes. . ‘

‘ I love you [Reader]. . .’

[Reader’s] heart stopped, his voice echoing in their head as the memories were replaying again tormenting them.

‘ You know I’ll never hurt you right?’

‘ I love you [Reader]. . . ‘

‘ Let’s play a game. . .’

‘ This can be our secret, like a secret code only we know!’

‘This can be our secret. . ‘

‘ This can be our secret’

‘ Our secret’

‘ I love you. . .[Reader]’

With a heavy sob that slightly confused and alerted Light, [Reader] wrote his name with such haste, with handwriting that was barely legible handwriting and his face clouded their mind like a rainy day. Tears slipped from them as they wrote his method of death, one that they deemed he needed. His execution was set and upon million watching the T.V, [Inmates Name] died a horrible and gruesome death on national T.V. [Reader] stayed crying as they watched the T.V through teary eyes, Light holding them close rubbing their back. He smiled, this wasn’t such a bad plan after all. Through the sobs, he was surprised his mother didn’t come up, but unknown to him she was outside talking to some neighbors and his sister wasn’t home just yet. As they started to calm down slightly, Light provided soothing words of comfort before whispering,

“ We can clean up these streets [Reader], don’t worry. . .this can be our little secret.”

I apologize to the anon that requested this because as you can see there is no NSFW and very little of what they wanted. I am prepared to write more to the story if needed just let me know as I would like to rewatch the series before continuing. I have also opened up a yandere discord server to interact and will be running it with other close friends and @seiyasabi. Please check their content because they are really good!

DISCORD LINK: https://discord.gg/ZMCfGCeN

#yandere #yandere anime #yandere fic #yandere fanfiction #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere light #yandere light yagami #yandere light yagami x reader #yandere light x reader #Light Yagami #light x reader #light yagami x reader #yandere smut #yandere death note #Death Note

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make-it-mavis · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Entry #20)

01/07/88 11:56 PM

Hey.

That first night was rough.

The following six would not be much better.

Honestly, most of my time spent in the dump has excused itself from my memory, on account of being so profoundly unremarkable and entirely unpleasant. I’m pretty sure I know what I did, but a large sum of the details are basically gone. Thankfully, none of it’s all that important, but I still feel like I should write down what I can recall. It’s kind of weird -- it feels like the more I write, the more I remember. Maybe once all’s said and done, I should try keeping a journal or some corny crap like that. A real one.

‘Dunno if I could stay regular on it without the added benefit of pretending to talk to you.

Anyway. Seven-ish days, I stayed there, and each day, relations with Wreck-it stayed just as strained, clipped, and awkward as the day before. I found out on the first morning that he had a strike system in mind -- I break three rules, that’s three strikes, that’s my ass hitting the road. Of course, I found out about this shortly after making my first strike. Literally seconds into the first day.

I hadn’t slept at all, being too sick and anxious and plagued by a snoring gorilla. So, when he woke up, before he could even stand, he was greeted by a violation of Rule #2:

“Hey, Maestro, what’s it like havin’ an entire brass section lodged in your nose?”

Then he, let’s say, ‘explained’ that I’d just struck one of three.

The second strike was not long for this world, either. Just hours later, I’d break Rule #5, completely by accident.

Business was pretty slow that day, being so early in the School Year (I heard some things here and there about so-and-so’s throwing First Day of School parties, but there was no festival this year -- not in the climate for it, I guess). Fix-it had a fair amount of free time between gamers, and made the incredibly ill-advised decision to try to talk to me. I was curled up on my pillows trying very hard to sleep when I heard him climbing up the bricks, calling out cautiously, “Mavy? Are you here?”

I didn’t say anything. I just grabbed a brick and tossed it in the direction of his voice. I then heard a yelp, a handful of Nicelander gasps, those tumbling sound effects, and that morbid little funeral drone. I didn’t expect to actually hit him, let alone K.O. him. He’s so damn easy to K.O., it’s like cracking an egg.

Regardless of it being an accident, regardless of the fact that Fix-it was assuring everyone he was fit as a fiddle seconds later, regardless of the fact that Wreck-it wasn’t even in the dump at the time, but watching from the roof of Niceland, it was a strike. So I had one left until I was out on my ass. I really had to pull it together in that regard. And I did, sort of.

I spent each day more or less the same: Looking for distractions that didn’t break any rules, puking, and trying to sleep.

I wandered around when I could. I took sporadic catnaps. I took very, very cold baths in the river, which I did not miss doing at all, but I certainly couldn’t use the showers in your game anymore. I drew sketches of the gamers’ faces as they played. I spent lots of time hugging a bucket. I very quietly played my guitar, more for the motion than the music. I snuck into the building from behind and raided apartments during gameplay, stockpiling food and water as my appetite slowly came back. It was all repetitive, futile, and not nearly enough to distract me the way I needed. I wanted buffs so, so bad. Even a drink. But for the life of me, I could not leave the game.

I tried many times, often several times in a day. I’d go stand at our dinky little train station, staring at the dinky little train I’d have to use as a newfound ground-dweller, and shiver. I’d pace. I’d kick the train, usually. It was so demeaning and frustrating. Nobody can keep me locked up. Yet there I was, too afraid to leave my own Dev-damned game out of fear that I’d be murdered. That had to be exactly what my attacker wanted me to feel. Just crippling, paralyzing fear. She may not have killed me, but maybe she was counting on other ways to make me disappear. And there I was, giving her what she wanted.

Wreck-it, on the other hand, left the game nightly to go to Tapper’s, right after closing. He’d check in with me beforehand, and it’d be the same each time.

He’d say, “Hey. Holdin’ up okay?”

I’d say, “Yup.”

He’d say, “Think you might leave soon?”

I’d say, “Hopefully.”

He’d say, “I’m going to Tapper’s, if you’re interested.”

I’d say, “No, thanks.”

End scene.

Word for word, the same every night. Those were really our only brief windows of communication, right up until the fifth night, after he had come back from Tapper’s and settled in.

The withdrawals had cleared up by then, but, needless to say, I still didn’t feel too good. I’d been stuck in there for nearly a week, feeling more broken and pathetic than I’d ever felt in my life. Everything was weighing down so, so hard, it was like I could barely breathe. Being unable to find you, nearly being murdered, being villainized, practically losing my brush -- it all had me cornered. There was nowhere to run. I was wishing so deeply for a way out. So, like I’ve done countless times before, I stared out into the arcade through the screen, trying to imagine a reality where I could break out and leave all of this behind.

The thing is, though, I’d only ever dreamed of that when no one else was around. This time, I was peering over the mound of bricks that I’d been sleeping behind, barely ten feet from Wreck-it’s stump. I was lying there for Devs know how long before, completely by accident, a question slipped from my mouth.

“What do you think it’s like out there?”

Wreck-it jumped. “Huh?”

I jumped. “What?”

“What’d you say?”

I felt my face burn up. I couldn’t have that conversation, not with him. I slipped back down the bricks to my privacy, and instinctively grabbed my guitar. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”

Wreck-it didn’t press, but I didn’t expect him to. It was the heavy, awkward silence after that I was worried about, so, without a second thought, I started playing my guitar. I’d played quietly while Wreck-it was around a few times before, and he didn’t seem to mind. Up until that point, though, I’d been silent on the vocals, because… y’know, I guess I just didn’t feel much like singing since you’d left. But in my panic, I started singing the first thing that popped into my head. It was this song I’d started writing about a concrete world and a neon storm. It wasn’t done. I’d forgotten most of it. It was a freakin’ mess -- eventually, I just gave up. I sighed and started plucking no tune in particular. Me and my unpredictable mouth.

That’s when Wreck-it piped in again, casually.

“Was that a new one?”

I cringed. “Yeah. It’s... not done.”

He paused. “It was nice. When it’s done, you should play it at Tapper’s.” He paused again. “...Y’know, after… things die down a bit.”

“...Yeah, right. As if I’ll ever play there again. Certainly not at Qix, either.”

“No?”

“No. Sprites at Qix are there for a good time, and I’m not super conducive to those anymore, so… even if it ever opens up again, I’m off the setlist.”

Qix had, indeed, been barred from the public not too long after the incident. It had become even more of a hotspot for buff use and dealing. Hardly stopped users and dealers from finding new places for it, but, still, the arcade lost its one and only nightclub. So that was grand.

“And, as for Tapper, I kinda doubt he wants the arcade’s most hated sprite playing at his bar.”

“Tapper still likes you,” he said. “I mean, he even talked about you the other night, said he’d run into you at the memorial. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

It was true -- I had met Tapper briefly at the memorial, and I remembered that he said that I was always welcome in his game if I needed company. It really was a sweet thing, looking back. But I didn’t take him seriously at the time, ‘cause I still thought it was a big joke. And after that, I definitely made him regret his offer. All I’d done at Tapper’s was drink myself violent and end up throwing punches and breaking glass. I was certain that he’d changed his mind and started hating me like everyone else. That thought really stung.

I waited, for a moment. “...What did you tell him?”

“I just told him I wouldn’t know.”

“Good,” I nodded, “good.”

We were both quiet for a long while, before words slipped out of me again. “I’m gonna miss that bar.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… whether Tapper likes me or not, I’m… bad for business, now. I could draw sprites in with my music, before, but, now… Even if he says I’m welcome there, I’m not really. It’s not entirely up to him.” I sighed, and felt my voice drop so low, it practically dragged. “I’m not welcome anywhere, anymore, so… that’s great.”

“Nowhere at all?”

I said, “Nope. Didn’t you say yourself that I’m trouble? Big trouble? Everyone seems to think that. Bigger trouble than anyone can deal with nowadays.”

Once again, we were both silent for a moment. I’d stopped playing, reduced to flicking one string with my thumb, just enough to hear it.

I heard Wreck-it take a deep breath behind me. He paused, and then, in a slow, awkward voice, said, “Well… Yeah, maybe, but… You don’t scare me, kid.”

I wished that could have made me feel better. It was, objectively, a pretty decent thing to say, and another sprite probably would have been very comforted by the chance of an ally in this mess, or at the very least, someone with something resembling loyalty. But it just made me feel worse. I felt too smart to believe any of that crap could last. He didn’t know it yet, but he’d change his mind. I’d always figured that sooner or later, everyone would decide I’m too much. That was just the way of things.

However, given my bleak circumstances, I had little choice but to accept his… tolerance while it lasted. Having someone on my side, even for just a little while, seemed like it could have proven helpful.

So, after a long, sullen silence, I just went back to plucking idly on my guitar. “Good to know you’re not as dumb as you look, then.”

His breath caught in disbelief for a second, before he dropped right back into growling, “Name-calling. Watch it.”

“It was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, a super backhanded one.”

I closed my eyes, trying to play myself to sleep. “Just take it, pal. I don’t got that many kind words to share, so I gotta ration them out wisely.”

He grumbled. “You would call that kind.”

“I do. Now, can we cut the yammerin’ and sleep?”

“Fine. Yeesh.”

He slept. I didn’t. Not ‘til midday the following day, anyway. I fell asleep during gameplay hours, and woke up just after closing when Wreck-it stomped his big ol’ stumps up the bricks. We had the usual pre-Tapper’s exchange, ending, of course, with me refusing his offer to come along. I was tired as hell, and I still wasn’t ready to go out there.

But, as I quickly discovered, it didn’t matter if I was ready or not.

I’d been in a fitful sleep for what must have been barely half an hour when Wreck-it’s feet woke me up again. This time, he came around behind my bricky knoll to stand next to me, towering with this look on his face that I didn’t like at all.

He said, “Hey kid, guess what.”

“I’m being evicted?”

“No,” he grinned in a way I couldn’t read -- don’t really see him smile that often, honestly, “but you are leaving. You’re going to Tapper’s!”

I was not following. “Uh… ‘kay, you do know that I said ‘no thanks’, right? That’s a thing you remember?”

“Yup, yup, I do. But listen to this -- I talked to Tapper for you, and all that stuff you said about him hating you or -- or, y’know, all that --” he shook his head, “-- not true. He misses you, kid. You gotta get out there and show him you’re alive.”

I felt my face burn up.

“You-- You--” I sprung to my feet, “You TOLD HIM I’M STAYING WITH YOU!?”

He put his hands on his hips nonchalantly. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“HOW-- WHEN I SPECIFICALLY SAID NOT TO?! THAT WAS RULE NUMBER ONE!!”

“Ah, ah,” he pointed, “polite request number one, and, request denied.”

I’d have throttled his fat neck if my fingers could fit around it.

“WHY’D I WASTE MY TIME BEING POLITE, THEN, LARD-FACE!?”

He seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna let that one slide, because you can bellyache all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been in here way, way too long, kid.”

“QUIT CALLING ME KID! I’M GONNA LEAVE, OKAY! SOON! ON MY OWN!”

“Uh huh, I’m sure you were going to,” he nodded in a condescending sort of way that made me want to hurl a brick between his eyes, “but now you get to leave with me, right now.”

“NO, I DON’T!”

“You said you’re here ‘cause you had nowhere else to go, right? Well, now you’ve got somewhere else to go, so get up off my bricks, and come go to the bar like I know you’ve been dying to do all week.”

He wasn’t wrong. But I was so angry. And I was still so scared.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

His eyebrows raised for a second, and he shrugged. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this.”

Then the colossal bastard grabbed me. Me, as in, my entire body, in one of his huge, meaty paddles he calls hands. It’s not that he’s never done that before, but it’s always been to throw me, and lasted only a second. This time, he started walking down the bricks, with the clear intention of just carrying me the entire way to Tapper’s. His code is still less dense than that of Fix-it, but that prolonged contact still made my binary crawl. Devs, did it crawl.

So, after a quick burst of threats and shrieking, I conceded. I agreed to go with him if he would just put me the hell down. He dropped me, I ran back to grab my book bag, and we trudged to the train. The way he walked behind me made me feel like he was marching me to some grim fate. Some grim, unnatural, unspeakably awkward fate.

As much as I lamented being reduced to riding the train like a chump, seeing the way his massive ass just barely fit into one of the cars was pretty rewarding.

Once we started rolling, he told me, “You know it’ll do you good to get out. You’re just not coded for life in a box, kid.”

I don’t remember if I sighed or gave the flattest laugh of my life. “Yeah, tell that to the Devs. And for cuss’ sake, quit calling me kid.”

In all truthfulness, as scared as I was, I really was so relieved at a chance to finally leave. And as much as I hated not being able to do it on my own, I was, admittedly, glad to have a second pair of eyes. It was probably a pretty decent thing of him to do, scouting out a safe place for me to go. Even if I really, really didn’t want or ask for it.

But I’m still pissed at him for denying my incredibly polite request.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #turbo #original character #homesick

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accio-jungkookie · 4 years

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shine on anyway - spider-man x reader (ch. 1)

shine on anyway - chapter one

A/N: Hey, guys! Welcome to the first chapter of my Spidey fic :D AHHH I can’t believe this lol. I’ve been working over this for a bit, and I can’t believe I’m actually posting it? Idk man, crazy world lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I love feedback so please feel free to like or comment! Thanks! (Also note that this story is focusing on character building and development more so than fan service, so Spidey doesn't show up for a little bit in the story <3 Thanks for understanding).

Summary: A kid from Milwaukee has to grow up far more quickly than she should while facing threats that men half her age would never dare go near. So, when she has to uproot after losing everything, does she lose herself too?

Word count: 1.4k (I promise the chapters get longer)

Warnings: Discussion of depression and anxiety, minor character death, swearing, fight scenes/injury, loss, I’ll add any more if I happen to have forgotten.

teaser - one - next

“Y/N!” You heard your friend, Kyomi, yell from down the hall. You looked up, slightly startled about your name being shouted, before spotting your beautiful best friend. You smiled in her direction before shoving your jacket and books for your afternoon classes into your locker and shutting it. By the time you turned to face her, Kyomi was already almost by your side.

“Hi, Ky. How’s your morning?” You asked with a yawn, glancing on your phone screen to see the time. Not even 7:45 yet, and you already wanted to go home.

“Oh, you know, a Monday morning. And how about you, grumpy gills?” Ky asked with a grin as you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not even 8 a.m. and yet I’m awake. So, as good as I can be.” You mumbled with a small grin, grabbing her sleeve to tug her to the second floor of the school, aiming for a cup of coffee from the school’s student-run café. You didn’t mind the taste of dirt, or the slight anxiety boost, as long as you could stay awake during your first two classes of the day.

You jumped slightly as someone slammed their locker, the noise hurting your ears as you wince. Ky frowns and holds your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Anxiety not doing well today?” She asked quietly, and you nodded as you opened your eyes and blinked a few times. You took a deep breath, trying not to focus on the sensory input that’s nearly ruining your ears. It’s nothing serious, or something you have diagnosed since the idea of it scares you, but it’s enough to freak you out a bit. Sensory overload is something you deal with a lot, and your massive amounts of anxiety never really help at all.

“Is coffee really a good idea, then? I know it makes your anxiety jump a lot, and I don’t want you to be on edge all day.” Kyomi said with a gentle smile. She was always the caring friend, the one with answers who always knew what to say. You were caring too, of course, but it was harder for you to express your emotions than it was for Ky. Not a bad thing, but a thing indeed.

“I’m ok, Ky. I’ve gotta make it through this AP physics exam in first period, so a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.” You said with a small grin, walking into the small room. Ky eventually convinced you to go with tea instead, since it still has caffeine but much less so compared to coffee. Then, it was time for class.

The time passes slow, your brain being crammed full of new ideas and theories and such that you would have to re-teach yourself later, since the lessons were built for straight memorization, not memory retention or application. The American school system was a pain in the ass, and your high school was a prime example of that.

However, your three exams went well, if not mentally draining. Having multiple AP classes is an honest to god feat of nature, but you managed to do it with all A’s and B’s. You spent lunch in a hallway somewhere with Ky, and the end of your day sped by with minor hiccups in regard to your anxiety. But, overall, an averagely boring day. You went to the library after saying goodbye to Ky, since she wasn’t part of the school musical, and then set to work on your homework. The good thing about having three exams today meant you had minimal homework, only in three classes (Spanish, German, and AP English Language/Composition). Easy enough to work through translations and building sentences, but the English work was annoying. A research paper on any topic of your choosing, written in APA style. APA style was disgusting.

It was nearing almost 5 in the afternoon when the library was starting to close, so you packed up your things and went to the auditorium, sitting in a random chair in the back and pulling out your laptop. Not the best, not the worst, but it did what it needed to.

You shifted with a shiver, hating how cold the auditorium always is, before your felt a sharp pain on your ankle. You freaked out a bit, immediately slapping at your ankle in hopes of scaring off, or killing, whatever the hell had just bit you. You looked down at the floor once you had calmed down, and nearly gagged at the size of the spider on the floor. It was massive and disgusting with weird coloring.

“Fucking public school. I hate Milwaukee, swear to god.” You mumbled, snapping a quick picture of it so you could identify it later, before you got up and moved to a different section of the auditorium entirely. Rehearsals started in less than 15 minutes anyway, so there was no need to keep working. Instead, you changed your shoes and got on stage to stretch and warm up slightly. There was a slightly weird feeling in your stomach, and you kept looking down at your ankle every now and again to keep an eye on the bite, which seemed a little annoyed, if nothing else.

Soon enough, rehearsal ended, and it was time to walk home. You pulled out your pepper spray that you kept hidden in your bag and began walking. It was only a 20-minute walk, but 20 minutes walking in a big city, alone, and at night was freaky. Plus, you’re a smaller, high school aged girl. You were more prone to being abducted and sold into the sex trade simply because you were a girl. Disgusting, yes, but a sad reality. You continued walking, all of your senses on high alert as you kept glancing around. You got home right on time, locking the doors before setting everything down in the kitchen. You smiled as you heard the clicking of your dogs’ nails on the floor coming towards you. You smiled and sat on the floor, pulling the two dogs into your lap, cuddling them and giving them love before you had to stand up again.

You went upstairs to your grandparent’s room, lightly knocking on the door to let them know you were coming in, if they were even awake. You walked in, seeing them both asleep, and walked back out again. No need to wake them up if there wasn’t an issue. So, you went back to the kitchen on the main floor, writing on the whiteboard on the wall that you got home safe, and that you didn’t want to wake them. You grabbed your things, leaning down to give the two dogs another pat before leading them to their beds, telling them to sleep before you walked downstairs to the basement where your room was located. You walked through the curtain that served as your door and walked to the far end of your short room to pull the cord to turn your light on.

You turned towards your desk and sighed, knowing it would be a long night for homework. You set everything down on the floor and pulled out your textbooks and laptop, setting them down on your desk. You sat at your chair and got to work on your Spanish homework, ready to crank through it so you could get to everything else.

A few hours had gone by, and you were starting not to feel so well. You thanked your lucky stars for the timing, since you were just finishing up the last parts of your homework. You looked at the clock, seeing it was almost 1 a.m. You sighed and got ready for bed, starting to steadily feel more sick and tired. By the time you flopped into bed at 1:02, you were nearly half asleep and sweating buckets. You barely managed to remember to pull your glasses off of your face before passing out entirely for the night, dreaming of weird spiders and itchy ankles.

You woke up the next morning at 6:30, still tired as you cursed yourself tiredly for not timing out when you would wake up with your sleep cycle. Still, you had gotten more sleep last night than you had in all of last week combined. So, you told yourself you were rested as you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. You blinked the tiredness away, noticing you could see clearly.

‘Did I forget to take out my contacts last night?’ you thought, a little scared at the idea until you realized you had worn your glasses yesterday. With a frown, you got out of bed and started to get ready anyway, keeping an eye out for any creepy-crawlies. You were mildly confused, but you would figure it out later. For now, you had to focus on getting to school on time with the nasty migraine you had.

#spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spider-man #fanfic #fan fiction #peter parker #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #slow burn #found family #fluff #angst #tom holland #robert downey jr #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #spider-man fanfiction

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

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(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 16

Enjolras

When The Selection hit its six-month mark there were still twenty girls in the running and the public was relatively satisfied at its progress. 2 girls had been sent home after the garden party for getting inexcusably drunk. After all the guests had left I discovered they had stolen a few bottles of wine before the party started and had been drinking since they woke up. In the last two months since the party, I sent home three more girls due to a simple lack of chemistry. Courfeyrac, who had bet money that I would have finished The Selection by now was rather proud and rather broke. However, my Father remained disappointed that I still had yet to find someone I knew would win.

“During my Selection, I knew it was your Mother after 3 months,” my Father chastised after the girls left the Banquet Room after breakfast.

“I would like to make sure that I can tolerate the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with,” I stated in defense.

“Julien, your Father just means that he’s surprised you don’t have feelings for any of these girls,” Mother argued.

“That’s ridiculous, of course, I have feelings for some of them. There are several girls that I would consider to be my equal. Each girl has something individual to her that another girl doesn’t have, which forces me to weigh the pros and cons,” I explained.

“I don’t give a damn who you pick or what her pros and cons are as long as she comes from a respectable family,” my father boomed.

Even though he said respectable family I knew he meant a higher caste.

“Yes well, there have been several girls from respectable families that would never survive to be my wife,” I mumbled, thinking about some of the girls I had sent home.

“If you're even thinking about Teresa, stop it this instance! Her family has been in the public eye since before you were born. They have been relatively scandal-free and have friends in the press,” he argued, exposing his alternative motives.

Everything concerning The Selection was a political campaign in preparation for my rule. If the press, the citizens, or my advisors disapproved of my choices then I would never have a chance to change the government of Illeá.

“Well lucky for you I can tolerate Teresa, even though she only ever talks about herself,” I said, getting up to leave.

“Julien,” I heard my mother cry from behind me.

“Your father and I only want what’s best for you. You know that whenever there is a lot of Selection coverage the crime rates and protests are much lower. Our citizens need this during these difficult times of unrest. Twelve Sevens were killed by a hate group in Carolina yesterday and until we can determine a way to handle this discreetly our citizens need to look to The Selection for hope and entertainment ”

“Our citizens need to be provided for and protected from the prejudice that their government has created in the caste system. They don’t need to watch a group of girls in fancy dresses fight for my attention,” I snapped.

“Then go ahead and announce the Elite tonight! Since you want to be done with this so badly we should at least get a special Report out of it,” my father yelled as I stormed out of the room.

This was ridiculous. I had to find a solution that would make this elimination seem fair, but I had no idea where to start. As I made my way to the Men’s Room I noticed a small figure sitting on the floor.

“Éponine?” I noticed, mostly by the signature grey dress she wore.

She looked up at me with a neutral expression on her face and I noticed several letters in her hands.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to read these. Monsieur Marius sent me pictures from all over Paris and this is the first letter my sister has sent me,” she said, holding up the piece of paper.

“So Pontmercy is still writing to you?” I confirmed, deciding to sit next to her in the hallway.

“Yes,” she blushed. “He’s been kind enough to send me information concerning universities in France. I think after all of this is done I’d like to go to school and receive a degree. I could take ‘Zelma with me and we could leave Illeá for the first time,” she smiled.

This wasn’t the first time I had noticed how Éponine had changed since the Garden Party. Ultimately Éponine had become far less cynical and more confident in herself from what I had seen and heard. She was excelling in her etiquette and history classes and even spending more time in the Women’s Room with the other girls. However, she had missed several meetings in the Musain so I had seen less of her than usual. It seemed like she spent more and more time writing to Pontmercy and I wondered if her feelings toward him were strictly platonic. If things continued I would be forced to confront her about Pontmercy, but that was lower on my list of priorities. “This is the first time you’ve heard from your sister?” I asked, opting to change the subject since this was surprising.

“Yeah. Before I left she made me promise that I wouldn’t write to her so when we meet again I’ll never run out of new things to tell her,” she said, looking at the floor.

“That was brave of her,” I noted, remembering several of the stories Éponine told me about her parents.

Éponine had never gone in-depth about anything in her life back in Allens except for her sister. However, from the few, personal stories she told me I could infer that her relationship with her parents was strained to some degree. Both of her parents appeared to struggle with addiction and managing money, which led me to believe Éponine came from a family that was a Five or lower.

“It was brave of her, but that’s Azelma,” she said smiling.

“Well, I will leave you to your letters. I have something very important I need to sort out by lunch,” I said standing up.

“Just promise me you’ll eat lunch,” she scolded.

“I wouldn’t dare skip lunch and face the wrath of the Great ‘Ponine,” I laughed, helping off the floor.

“Did you just call me ‘Ponine?” she asked.

My eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked for your permiss-”

“No Enjolras, I’m not offended or anything. Good luck with your problem solving,” she said, turning to walk down the hall.

I watched her confidently walk down the hall in her high heels as she would smile at maids and butlers. I wanted to chase after her to congratulate her on all of her improvements as a person during this competition but I couldn’t. I needed to get to my friends so I could determine the best way to eliminate half of the girls.

“I know that look anywhere,” Courfeyrac declared as I walked into the Men’s Room.

“That’s his post parental argument face,” Bossuet explained to Grantaire.

“I’m announcing The Elite on the Report tonight,” I said.

“Excellent, who are they?” Combeferre asked.

“I don’t know. I want this to be a fair opportunity for each girl so they aren’t completely blindsided.”

“Is this because of what that caste supremacist group did?” Grantaire asked from his place near the door.

“Unfortunately yes, and my strong desire to end this ridiculous affair.”

“Enjy, Illeá is angry right now, are you sure more coverage on the Selection is what they need? Don’t you think there should be some sort of memorial Report?” Ferre asked.

“I would much rather fly out to Carolina myself to meet with the affected families, but my parents are demanding I give the Report more Selection coverage. Apparently it will distract Illeá for long enough for their advisors to come up with a solution,” I sighed.

“Do you really not have ten girls in mind for The Elite?” Joly asked.

“I can really only think of three I care enough about, four if I count my Father’s favorite.”

“Excuse me but have we all forgotten the end goal of the Selection?” Jehan Prouvaire said standing up from his chair.

“Peace among Illeá?” Feuilly asked.

“A time for Les Amis to organize allies?” Bahorel called out.

“Entertainment?” Courfeyrac guessed.

“You’re all idiots,” he scoffed. “At the end of this whole competition, Enjolras has to marry the last girl standing. He has to see her every day for the rest of his life and produce an heir with her.”

“Your point?” Bossuet asked.

“What does Enjy love more than anything else?” Prouvaire asked.

“Patria,” several men said in unison.

“So his future Queen should also be passionate about Patria, or something along those lines. At some point, the Elite are required to do a presentation on their desired philanthropies so Enjy doesn’t want to pick someone that isn’t passionate about anything. Just bring them all in individually and ask them what they’re passionate about,” Prouvaire finished.

The men were quiet for a few moments before erupting into praise because Jehan was completely right. This idea provided a reason to eliminate the girls without having to dig too deep. Politics were a central part of life as a royal and if any of these girls were here under the assumption that their duties were to sit around and look pretty they were mistaken. Les Amis agreed that each girl should be brought to the Men’s Room individually and asked what they would change about Illeá. After lunch, all of the girls would be separated to ensure that cheating would be impossible and a photographer needed to be arranged.

The first girl called was Iris who immediately began to explain her passions towards reconstructing the Illeán education system so that it could compete with New Asia. As she explained her idea I recalled that Iris had several relatives in New Asia that served in government positions, which could be beneficial for trade. And even though Adele was the youngest in the competition, she gave an intense speech about mandatory school volunteering so that empathy could be instilled in children as they grew up. Cosette stated that she wished there were more laws in place that protected endangered species and that wildlife conservation should be a higher priority in Illeá.

Liberty said that there should be more laws requiring businesses and schools to accommodate the disabled. Even Teresa, who I had marked as a pompous and self-absorbed stated that the minimum wage for lower castes should be raised and there should be more opportunities for certain levels of education. While it wasn’t my favorite, she came up with something that could benefit a group of people. Harley and May both said there should be more funding for the caste relief programs and Keliah wished there were more labor laws in place to protect factory workers. Overall, several girls surprised me with multiple ideas that would benefit the people of Illeá.

However, not all girls were able to quickly come up with an answer. For example, Charlotte simply began to panic under the pressure and cried until Joly could get her to follow some breathing exercises. Some girls were simply incorrect or blatantly prejudiced like Hazel and Ashely, who both stated that the hate groups made of caste extremists shouldn’t be subject to the law because they were doing God’s work. And unfortunately, Natalie stated that hate crimes should be illegal as she wasn’t aware that they were already against the law.

The final girls called were Musichetta, who believed there should be more funds going to programs that provide free birth control and other Women’s Services, and Éponine, who blatantly stated that the caste system should be abolished.

“That’s quite a radical statement, Éponine. How do you defend it?” Combeferre asked.

“Well, most of this country's problems come from the caste system in the first place. It limits the quality of life for members of the lower castes and provides for those in the upper castes.”

I couldn’t help but let a grin escape onto my face.

“Thank you Éponine, you can continue this argument at the next meeting,” I said before she and the photographer left the room.

“Taking what we all just observed, who should stay, and who should go?” I asked, organizing my stack of notes.

“I think we should just end the Selection right now so you can marry Éponine,” Courfeyrac smiled.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you loooove her Enjy,” Joly laughed, spinning around in his chair.

“That is a wildly incorrect statement because I’m not in love with any of these girls. Thank you for your time and assistance but I have a speech that is going to crush the hearts of ten girls that I need to prepare,” I said before making my way to my office.

#enjonine #prince enjolras #Eponine Thenardier #Les Miserables #les amis #the selection #fanfiction #crossover #cross-posted #ao3 #Combeferre #joly #jehan prouvaire #courfeyrac #modern au #cosette #marius #musichetta

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nymphl · 5 years

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Bloodbound - Vampire!Hux x Reader - Ch 3. Undisclosed Desires or... the bloody Memories

A/N - Hello there! Here I come with chapter 3 of Bloodbound. It’s honestly one of my fav chapters ever. I quite enjoy being able to work and explore Hux more political side. Now, I don’t think he’d be actually willing to make a deal with the New Republic, but it’s not past him lying about it. Anyways, I hope you like it. xDDD

Story summary: Bound by blood… After you left the First Order and joined the Resistance, moved with a deep hatred for General Armitage Hux, you never expected to meet said man in a Gala in Canto Bight, nor that your past was intimately interlaced with his. When the past is written in blood, can you start anew, a new chapter of your own, or are you forever bound to him? When all is said and done, can you still keep on hating a man who has all eternity to hate himself?

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 tags: from lovers to enemies; from enemies to lovers; partners to lovers; eventual romance; vampire!hux; vampires in space; vampires, blood, blood binds; First Order; Resistance; power play; politics; Hux backstory; political alliances; political betrayals; vampire sex; shameless smut; memory loss; mesmerizing; vampire powers; vampire politics; Starkiller Base; military prowess; empire; emperor; Emperor!Hux; dhampirs

Wordcount: 9018.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Emperor’s Study

Mid-morning

THE EMPEROR EYED YOU INTENSELY.

…and you swallowed. Part of you hoped he didn’t notice the otherwise meaningless action, but you knew better. His impossible blue eyes left you and set back on the holocams calmly; the tiny devices captured every micro expression and every word he said.

As expected — as the Resistance previously informed you —, he’d an interview scheduled for today with Corporate Sector Newsfeed. If not for Poe’s tip, you wouldn’t know what was to happen, as the Supreme Leader seemed to only remember to warn you of his schedule this very morning — and you couldn’t help feeling like it happened before… in another life, perhaps. Having had no contact with anyone from The Canto Bight Gazette you weren’t warned of this… impending appointment.

The NewsNet Corporate Sector Newsfeed advocated strongly for neutrality. You were once invited to work for them. But while their political views interested you greatly, they were very strict with their journalists, which didn’t benefit you, nor the Resistance. Ever since the rumors concerning the possibility of Cantonica — and the whole Corporate Sector — pledging loyalty to the First Order, the NewsNet made their opinion very clear, informing the general public of the dangers of standing between an upcoming war between the New Republic and the First Order.

If only they knew…

The New Republic posed no threat for anyone. Honestly, they didn’t even recognize the First Order’s very existence. They completed ignored General Organa’s — former Senator Organa — warnings. And that was a grave mistake. When the First Order attacked, it’d be swift and merciless.

You folded your arms, watching as he answered each question with the ease of a seasoned statesman. Even if you despised him and everything his organization stood for, you couldn’t deny how well prepared he was for their questions. And the NewsNet couldn’t possibly have tipped him before; you doubted he’d accept any interview in which his image could be so badly damaged. Unless…

He’s trying to prove a point.

But guess what? He responded with poise and firmness akin to your expectations. He made even the trickiest questions seem easy. And there were plenty of them. You’d expected the Corporate Sector Newsfeed and their representative — a female Rodian named Rosey Cadevon, a newbie; you could only wonder how nervous she must be feeling right now — would inquiry him about the recent agreement between Cantonica and the First Order; the sudden decision to change the Capital. Instead, just a few of their questions — their first questions — broached such topics. Now, the journalist made it her point to make him stumble on his answers concerning the Starkiller Base.

You shivered.

Part of you feared for her life. You weren’t new to this and you’ve seen so many of your colleagues who dared to oppose that hateful First Order simply… disappear that you wondered if the same would happen to her.

“…what are your thoughts on this?”

You shook your head. You were so lost in your thoughts that you missed a great deal of their conversation. Besides, you were very tired; having slept less than two straight hours, you were exhausted. No wonder you were spacing out a bit. But that wouldn’t do. You knew he wouldn’t give the answers you sought that easily. If you wanted to get something meaningful out of him, you’d have to pay attention to him in every possible moment. Blinking, you focused your attention on the Emperor. There was a slight tilt of lips as he replied,

“I see no military confrontation taking place anytime soon between the First Order and the New Republic, unless…” There was a slight pause as he brought the glass of water to his lips. You almost snorted. His lips and throat were no drier than Cantonica’s superficial ocean. “The New Republic attacks the First Order. However, Lanever Villecham has in its best interests to seek a peaceful alliance with the First Order.”

His answer had you narrowing your eyes.

Bastard.

Kriffing bastard.

You honestly didn’t know which was worse. If the Emperor and his political ability to turn any enemy into a potential ally… or the current Chancellor — a corrupt man capable of abandoning the democratic ways to join a tyrannical organization.

Biting your bottom lip, you risked a glance at him only to find his eyes set on you, watching your every reaction carefully.

“Supreme Leader, if both the New Republic and the First Order are on talking terms now and planning an alliance, we can assume the use of a superweapon will no longer be necessary.” It was the journalist’s turn to make a brief pause. She adjusted herself in her seat and drank a bit of water. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was poisoned. “The public is entitled to know when it will be deactivated.”

He returned his attention to the holocam fluttering above him.

“It won’t.” His response had you holding your breath. He didn’t pause this time, quickly amending his sentence, “The Galactic Republic insisted on not establishing a military branch, which costed them greatly during the Clone Wars, not to mention, it left the Chancellor with no choice but to trust the Jedi. The New Republic followed their steps with the Military Disarmament Act. The First Order won’t commit the same mistake. As Supreme Leader, I can assure you and the public our aim is defense and not attack.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

He nodded, “By all means.”

There was another brief pause, as if the journalist, with her with big and starry blue eyes, needed time to think about her next question. You shook your head, quickly catching on what just happened. Although the Corporate Sector Newsfeed professed their inclinations towards an independent planet and system, it was clear they’d already changed sides. That’s why they sent the novice. If she was to simply disappear, they could blame it on the growing violence. If an hour ago you thought she was doing great, now you knew she was simply… reckless. And reckless in your profession oftentimes walked together with disposable.

The Emperor didn’t let her ask her next question. He continued, as if he was giving a highly important speech, and couldn’t be bothered with interruptions. Rather, he wouldn’t tolerate any interruptions.

“The Galaxy’s been shown no mercy since the fall of the Galactic Empire. As the representative of the First Order, I acknowledge the many flaws and corruption growing inside the Empire and the reasons why it fell, but I also do recognize the very same signs within the New Republic.”

“And the First Order doesn’t have any flaws?” she asked bluntly. You held your breath. She had the courage to say things you weren’t sure you’d dare. But then again, she didn’t have two children who depended on her. Any wrong question and maybe your children would grow up without a mother — needless to remind anyone of the fact they didn’t have a father. No matter how much you fought for justice, you were usually… subtler in your approach. “Are you saying that an organization that advocates for strict control could possibly make it work for the entire Galaxy?"

He wetted his lips. You didn’t know if the glint in his clear irises reflected amusement or annoyance. On what you’ve recalled of him — and you honestly didn’t know where it came from; you didn’t know him at all —, he wasn’t a man known for controlling his rage very well.

“What about freedom of speech?”

There was silence for a moment, as if Armitage Hux was gathering his thoughts.

“Freedom of speech for whom?” He devolved in the same blunt tone, but with the schooled facial expression of a man who was used to talk to the masses… or that had been through many interrogatories — as the inquirer, you couldn’t picture him as the one interrogated — and knew very well how to school his features in order not to give away any information to his enemy. “The New Republic advocates that through the sheer existence of a Senate everyone can have their opinions heard, which cannot be farther from the truth. While Populists and Centrists fight over petty politics, the forgotten corners of the Galaxy suffer with poverty and unending violence. The First Order seeks to bring equality to all and promote peace through absolute order. However, to achieve this goal, we must destroy all forms of tyranny that disguise themselves in the form of this rotten and decadent democracy.”

He was a great orator, you’d to give him that. For a moment, he almost had you believing he cared. Then you recalled that the First Order had invaded planets — destroyed them and made their people slaves — just to build their military prowess. And it was only the surface — only what you knew. Their secret archives probably had so much more to say than the meaningless data you gathered so far about their Starkiller superweapon.

Before long, the interview was over and Rosey was gathering her belongings. The Supreme Leader had left his study and you found yourself alone with her. She didn’t talk to you, but her starry eyes were trained on your face with something akin to resentment. Anger, perhaps.

She was about to leave when she turned to you and finally spoke what was on her mind, “You used to be my role model. I became a journalist because of you.” Her voice was full of disgust. You swallowed. If you didn’t have ulterior motives to join the Emperor, her words would’ve had a great impact on you. “But I guess congratulations are in order, Miss Minara. You’re an outstanding Press Secretary. Far better than you’re an investigative journalist.”

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Emperor’s Study

Dawn

You bit your bottom lip as you smoothly slid inside the Emperor’s study. It was almost morning and as far as you knew, the Supreme Leader was already tucked into his bed. If you wanted to dig something on him, it had to be now.

And it had to be in his study.

Because… where else would you find any important information concerning him and his… associations and future plans if not in his office? Perhaps his datapad, but he didn’t get away from it and unless you dared to get the Emperor out of his clothes… You shook your head. Better not head there.

After a sleepless night with dreams of all sort — each concerning the Emperor — you sure as hell didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about him. You rolled in your bed, trying to get at least some rest, but whenever you closed your eyes, you saw him. Whenever you fell into a slumber, he was there. It felt as if those weren’t dreams, but some sort of memories. But it couldn’t be. You’d just met him a couple of nights ago. Three… four nights at most. Swapping day for night wasn’t doing your poor brain much good.

You concentrated on the task at hand; there was no time to lose.

As it is, it was difficult enough to get into his study without being noticed. There were sentry droids all over the Imperial Palace — not to mention a clever astromech BB-unit that was never that far from the Emperor. You wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred droids over people. The Palace — the Emperor himself; what a joke! He could take all eight guards in a matter of minutes, if he wanted — was also guarded by the Praetorian Guards.

It took you some effort — and recalling your previous interactions with BB-8 — to get rid of the black BB-unit. Whenever the Emperor retired for the safety of his chambers, the small rolling droid would patrol the corridor in which his study was located. And you knew that it wouldn’t take long for it to come back and find you where you shouldn’t be.

Hacking into their system wasn’t that difficult. For an organization that lurked in the shadows for so long and that posed such a threat to the whole galaxy, their security system was rather fragile. That… or your digging was expected.

You bit your bottom lip, unsure whether to proceed or not. You shook your head. There was no way you’d back down now. If you wanted to get rid of Armitage Hux, you’d better do it soon. There was no time to build any lasting friendship or any sort of trusting relationship — the very idea filled you with nausea — just to stab him in the back latter.

The interface of the First Order’s main system was… something you felt rather familiar with. You felt as if you were acquainted with it as much as you were with the Resistance’s… which couldn’t be true. When you worked for the First Order, you were… a lowly officer in training. You’d never have that kind of special access you were having now.

As if it was something you accessed daily.

No.

You were getting paranoid. There was nothing familiar about the system — nor the Emperor himself.

Blinking, you flexed your fingers and started your search. Your goal was to find anything conclusive regarding the structure of the Starkiller Base. You were this close to finding it — Poe and Kazuda Xiono had done one hell of a job together. For someone as young and as crude as the Hosnian pilot, the boy proved to be trustworthy time and time again; he deserved better for his job done aboard the Colossus station. You’re glad Poe disobeyed General Organa’s order for the umpteenth time and helped him — and as soon as you found some kind of map or anything the Resistance’s engineers could work on, you’d be done and perhaps you’d be able to leave the Emperor’s nasty presence and rejoin your children.

And yet… Each minute you spent in his company had you eager to find more about him… In order to destroy him, of course. At this point, you knew that destroying the First Order would’ve to go beyond destroying their superweapon. But hey, a girl can dream!

“Minara?” Poe’s sudden voice startled you. Breathing deeply through your noise, you readied yourself to reply, when he continued, “Do you copy?”

You let yourself relax in the chair as his bluish image flickered through the old-comm. Your eyes, however, remained on the search engine.

“Dameron, took you long enough.”

He snorted.

“As if I could contact you at any time, Minara.”

There was another reason why you’d to be in the Emperor’s study. The Resistance was supposed to contact you today — this morning. At first, Poe was puzzled when you said there could only be any exchange between you during the day, preferably before sundown, but he followed your instructions, nonetheless. Besides, that was the safest place to contact someone outside without being caught. It seemed the Emperor was a man who had a few things to hide as well…

However, no matter his retort or his doubts — you were sure General Organa shared of his growing suspicions —, you could feel the warmth in his tone as he reported your children’s greetings. You felt yourself smiling for a brief moment, your attention totally focused on his holoprojection. Steela was dying to show you the few tricks she learned with Poe and Nik… Your sweet boy just wanted you to know that he missed you greatly.

“Any luck with the archives?” he said, changing topics as soon as he noticed you biting your bottom lip.

You nodded, shifting your eyes to the screen in front of you. There wasn’t much in the computer station. So far, not as much weakness as you expected in a construction as majestic as the Starkiller base. Inserting your datacard, you started copying whatever information you could find.

“There isn’t much,” you admitted with a sigh of defeat.

He folded his arms. “As expected.”

There was a slight nod on your part. You removed the datacard and inserted it in the your old datapad. “Kriffs! And it’s encrypted.”

“That was going too easy, (Y/N)… Way too easy.”

You sighed deeply. “Sorry, Poe, it may take me a while to crack their code.”

He swallowed, working his jaw as he looked into your eyes. If not for your convictions, you’d have felt guilty given his inquisitive stare.

“Or you could send it to us and let the experts deal with it.”

You narrowed your eyes; your reply ready in your tongue. However, there was no time for it, for before you opened your mouth, you heard steps in the corridor and the incessant beeping of the BB unit.

“Come again, Deebee-three?”

You could almost see the Supreme Leader tilting his head towards the little droid. What is he doing here? He was supposed to be having his… vampiric sleep right now. How could be up and about at this time of morning?

The BB unit — now you knew the devilish thing was named DB-3 — let out a series of beeps and boops. To what you could hear the Supreme Leader responding with Interesting.

“Kriffs!” You cast a look over your shoulder, towards the door and then back at the computer station. For a moment, all you could hear was the beating of your heart. “The Emperor… I-I… I’ve to go!”

Before you could end the transmission, he caught you off guard with a warning that had your legs going instantly slack, “Minara, the skinny, ginger guy has an interview with some NewsNet this morning. Be ready to report in two days’ time.”

“What?”

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Greenhouse

Afternoon

As soon as you were done with the journalist, you followed the Emperor out of the study room and entered some kind of greenhouse. At first, you were startled to find him heading directly to the sun, but your fear — if you could call it as such — was quickly dismissed when you realized that instead of the burning sun rays, the little light that entered through the special glass didn’t seem to hurt him.

Special glass. Of course.

You bit your bottom lip, shaking the bad feeling that gripped your heart for a moment. You wouldn’t dare to give it much thought. The fear of losing someone that you didn’t even care — didn’t even know — to begin with was ridiculous at best.

Letting yourself relax — even if just a little; relaxing too much around a creature as dangerous as the Emperor would be a fatal mistake —, you took your time looking around the greenhouse. From the known Cantonican flora to some species you’d never seen in your entire life, there was no denying how breathtaking the place was.

His back faced you as he filled a small glass with Corellian brandy. You approached him carefully. It was startling to notice — with the small and rare sunrays that entered the greenhouse; after a few days in his company, you were starting to think the sun was your enemy as well — how much younger he looked when the sunlight reflected directly into his ginger hair and clear irises.

In spite of the sun shining bright outside, you couldn’t help a shiver. The place was as cold as a refrigerator. It didn’t escape you how every kriffing room in the Palace seemed to sport temperatures below what’s considered suitable for humans.

He turned to face you, his bluish eyes trained on you as he removed his coat and offered it to you. Even though you thought about refusing it, you knew it’d only draw more attention to yourself and right now you couldn’t afford that.

“I ought to compliment you…” you stopped yourself, as if deciding how to address him. Using his name didn’t seem adequate. You were no friends. “Supreme Leader. Your answers were… rather…”

“Political?” he offered, not unkindly. Armitage eyed you over the rim of his glass as he drowned the amber liquid. “You didn’t seem to enjoy them.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure on how to reply to his statement. Feeling bold, you stepped closer to him. He offered you the Corellian brandy, to which you shook your head.

“Too early for me,” you replied. As you hugged your frame, you couldn’t help but feel the datacard. You didn’t have time to properly store it in your bedroom earlier. After you heard him approaching, all you could do was leave the study through the windows, praying that you weren’t caught by any patrol droid or any First Order officer that may cross the property at dawn — or fall to the floor; you didn’t dare looking down, so afraid of heights you were. Casting a glance at him, you recalled his earlier statement. Right. He was expecting an answer. “I believe it’s rather a matter of agreeing with your views than enjoying them.”

He nodded, as if amused.

In a matter of seconds, he downed the Corellian brandy he had poured for you and filled another glass for him. If he were any other, you’d have told him to slow down, but you stopped yourself. As far as you knew, vampires couldn’t get drunk.

“In spite of that, I’d like to congratulate whomever offered you media training. Your bearing was exceptional today.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, then a brief smirk tilted his full lips upwards. It was such a mirthless, cold gesture that it had you regretting your entire existence for a moment.

“I’ll send your regards next time I visit my father’s epitaph.”

You bit your bottom lip, overwhelmed with guilty. You felt so strongly about your mistake, you couldn’t help looking down. It was known in the great circles of the Resistance — and you bet that in the First Order too — that Armitage Hux’s father was none other than the former Imperial Officer, Brendol Hux — his son no more than a bastard treated worse than a stray dog, whose mother was taken away from him for the sick amusement of a father incapable of having a proper heir. But as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone and you were left with anger… for yourself.

So, this wretch had had a troubled childhood and some traumas regarding his parents, but what about the traumas he inflicted upon those he enslaved in the name of that nefarious organization of his?

And once again… as quickly as the harsh judgment came, it was gone, and you were left once again overcame with guilty and shame. You couldn’t bear the thought of the same happening to your children… The thought of not feeling sorry for a child that couldn’t defend himself from his father’s wrath made your stomach churn. Not to mention, the man of today — the man in front of you — wasn’t to blame for the suffering of his boyish version. Rather, the suffering in his tender age — a phase in which every child ought to be cherished and not despised — created the monster in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your eyes cast down.

He placed his fingers below your chin, forcing you to stare at him. You almost gasped at the intensity in his blue orbs. His thumb ran absentmindlessly over your bottom lip as he whispered, “There’s nothing to feel sorry for. My father’s misdeeds are his alone.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of the heartbeats echoing loudly in your ears. You bet he could hear it too, with much more clarity. Feeling your mouth dry, you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, just to brush it against this thumb. Both of you shivered.

“Please…”

You didn’t know what you were pledging for. A great deal of the night you’ve seen exactly what was taking place now. He’d invade your personal space and then… You’d see exactly what you were seeing reflected in his bluish eyes now. Anger. Sorrow. Vulnerability.

The thought of a vile creature such as the Emperor having complex feelings like any other sentient being caught you off guard. It’d be way easier if he were just an unfeeling monster — someone whose purpose in life was restricted to wreaking havoc in the Galaxy and killing others just for the pleasure of drinking their blood.

A gasp left you as his other hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You could’ve told him to stop — you should have. Yet, all you did was to stare blankly at him as he ran his nail over your throat and his breath caressed your cheek.

For a moment, you could feel him probing your mind. However, it quickly ended. You placed both hands on his shoulders — to stop him, to bring him closer. Your mind was fogged, and you couldn’t help but blame it on him and his supernatural abilities.

He entwined his fingers in your hair and tilted your head back, to have full access to your throat — to run his fangs over your jugular. Instead of unaltered fear, you could picture both of you in his bed, both stark naked as he set a punishingly slow rhythm between your legs. You moved in time with him, one hand pulling onto his ginger hair; head thrown back as you moaned in pleasure.

You shuddered.

Armitage moved from your throat to your mouth, but he didn’t kiss you, as if waiting for your permission. With your mind fogged — you weren’t thinking clearly anymore and after spending a great deal of the night thinking of him… dreaming of him… you couldn’t help wanting to act on those images — you brushed your lips against his and closed your eyes. He lost no time to caress your tongue boldly with his own…

…and the scene in the back of your mind changed. He slithered his fingers with yours and with the other hand he pulled your locks, tilting your head to his better pleasure. His lips were attached to your throat; his fangs were buried deep inside of you. The crimson blood painted your chest as he brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm that had you trembling and sobbing in his arms.

His hand moved up your waist, sliding inside your clothes. The contact of his fingers — despite their coldness — with your skin was better than you expected. It felt as if it was the coolness you needed to bring down your temperature from the crescent inferno that the vision in the back of your eyes spread over your body. You tingled all over… With something akin to need. For a moment, all you wanted was for him to give you the same pleasure you’ve pictured in your mind.

The Emperor continued to kiss you, softer this time… As if it could ease the aching sensation in your loins. A small smirk took over his face as he let go of your lips momentarily, just to snatch them again fiercely. He knew what he was doing to you and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily. You couldn’t understand the sort of power he’d over you. In a moment, you couldn’t stand the sight of him and in the next, all you wanted was to take off your clothes and mimic everything that this… dream? — whatever that was — showed you.

Seemingly sensing your thoughts — or reading it, you were so high on him that you could hardly distinguish it any longer —, he brought your thumb to his mouth and bit into it; his skin warming up almost instantly as he lapped at your blood.

“What are you doing to me?” You were so afraid of speaking in a normal tone and having your voice betraying yourself — your body betraying yourself — you chose to whisper the question.

Instead of an answer, he brought you flush against his as he took your mouth in another fiery kiss; the coppery taste felt otherworldly. He eased a thigh between your legs, letting you feel his hard-on. He growled — the sound coming from the depths of his chest — as you pressed your hips together. You moaned.

The heavenly kiss was brought to an abrupt stop as his fingers — in their sinful quest for your breasts — brushed a hard surface.

Kriffs!

In your lustful state, you all but forgot the datacard.

He removed his hand from your skin and you immediately felt him withdrawing from you and not only physically. With a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever was to come — he’d found the datacard and only the maker could know what he would do to you now — but he merely shook his head; his hair falling charmingly on his face.

“You should leave, Miss Minara.”

You bit your bottom lip. Perhaps you should reach for him. Perhaps you should just… leave? Perhaps you should slap him — as the haze left your mind, you couldn’t help regretting what just took place.

“Now.”

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Emperor’s study

Twilight

You should get some sleep.

No.

You needed to get some sleep.

However, as soon as you learned the Emperor left the Palace at sundown, you couldn’t help but return to his study. This time, there was no need to mislead the BB unit, for it followed him… wherever he went. From what you heard, it was an urgent matter of state.

And yet… Part of you doubted it. If that was the case, he’d drag you with him. As his… biographer — and you couldn’t believe you accepted to follow that… man around just to write his biography — you’d to be in his corner at every given moment. How were you supposed to reveal all the depths and intricacies concerning the man who was this closer of ruling the entire galaxy if you didn’t become his shadow?

After the interview this morning you were sure he’d have you around if it was a State matter. It didn’t concern the First Order — and it didn’t concern you. It only made you even more curious to know what he was doing.

And why he wanted to have you close.

If he really wanted someone to write his biography, he’d have chosen someone whose views didn’t clash so thoroughly with his. Someone who’d worship him, something you were incapable of.

You knew you should focus on getting whatever information from his study — the encrypted data would serve no one — but it was difficult. Part of you was still bothered after your previous interaction. You didn’t know which was worse, the fact that he knew you’re up to no good and simply let you be… Or the tingly sensation that haven’t left your body ever since your earlier rendezvous.

Shaking your insecurities aside, you put your fingers to work. But not before getting a closer look at this very chamber. It was an old building — probably one of the oldest in the entire city — which made you wonder if there were any — probably a few — secret passages. You knew for a fact that the all the rooms in the upper floor were somehow connect. Except for the Emperor’s chambers, of course. A cautionary measure, perhaps. All you knew was that you were relieved that he couldn’t reach your own bedroom through his. In his study, it seemed there were two alternative routes — besides the window, of course.

You didn’t want to think about getting that shortcut, however. Last time had left you almost nauseated. Even if you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you were a tad scared of heights. You were not sure when it began — for you had no problems with climbing growing up — but somewhere along your pregnancy the very thought of high places scared the hell out of you. Flying with Poe was absolutely out of question.

Yet… even with your heart on your mouth, you escaped through the windows. When there was no other choice left — when your own life and your secrets were at risk, you’d face your fears. But you didn’t want to willingly endanger yourself again. If you had to leave, it would be through the secret passage behind either the bookshelf or the huge holovid projector close to the wall.

This time, instead of trying to crack the code, you decided to search for more information concerning the organization in general — their upcoming plans. If only you could get your hands on his datapad…

You should focus on learning everything you could about the Emperor’s plans on his quest to rule the galaxy before he came back — before you left his presence. You didn’t have all your life to write his biography — needless to mention you wouldn’t be allowed to write whatever you wanted. You were sure he’d personally proofread it and then your material would go through some kind of censorship department. You’d have to do your best to gather as much data about him and the First Order as soon as possible. If it resulted in some lack of proper sleep, then so be it.

This time, however, all the search engine gave you was meaningless stuff. You bit your bottom lip, wondering if the Supreme Leader had anything to do with it — if his kriffing droid really told him of your… morning disappearance.

As much as he wanted you to know you were free to go and do as you pleased, you weren’t that naïve to believe you’d go anywhere without being closely watched. It was the Emperor’s territory and he’d be damned if he let you — his enemy — have your way with him.

Well, you couldn’t blame him, right? You said yourself you wanted him to show the world in his eyes… And he was doing just that. His whole world consisted of the First Order and that was what the First Order stood for. Control. Strict control over their subjects. Freedom… It was no more than a fancy dream in a dictatorial organization. And if you were to be honest, even though you fought for this so called freedom, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

Freedom for whom?

But his world consisted of so much more than the First Order… Parts of him he wasn’t willing to share with you just yet — and why would he in the first place was the million credits question — but that could — and would — help you bring down his loved organization. You knew what you’d to do, if he wouldn’t share whatever secrets of his with you, you’d look for information on him yourself.

Returning your attention to the database, you typed the word vampire in the search engine…

…only to be graced with nothing. Well, nothing meaningful at least. All it came up with was tales of ancient civilizations.

The furrow in your brows was quickly eased. People didn’t know he was a vampire. Right. If they did, the interview wouldn’t take place in the morning — you were still puzzled with his disposition in broad daylight. As far as you knew, vampires got weaker during the day and any attack on them could be fatal.

Yet… Exposing himself could be so much more dangerous. It could jeopardize everything he worked for. Dhampirs would be on the hunt. Every enemy would be on the hunt. And you bet he’d plenty. For the maker, you thought you should get a shot.

You were smarter than that.

Killing him right now would do you no good. The Emperor was the only link you had to the First Order — the only link to help you bring them down. To end their years of tyranny across the galaxy.

No.

He couldn’t die.

Not yet at least.

History has shown time and time again that with the death of a single dictator another rose to power. Dictatorships didn’t end with its dictators, but with the absolute destruction of their vile government machine. And the First Order was one hell of a tyrannical machine.

Blood banks.

This new search didn’t bring you much result either, but you learned that in the last decade the number of blood banks across the Galaxy grew significantly. Especially in areas dominated by the First Order — where the Emperor lived. The available data showed that a new blood bank opened in Canto Bight a few days before the Gala.

I don’t do blood slaves.

It seemed he didn’t lie.

It seemed he told the truth.

Slaves.

That was the next word you typed in the search engine. It brought even less meaningful results. You wondered if the Emperor had tampered your possible searches, but it didn’t seem the case. It did seem to have a decrease of planets whose economy depended majorly on slaves.

But you were no fool.

The fact that some research brought as a result an apparent reduction of slavery didn’t mean it happened for real. You knew how governments tampered with their data. Needless to say what dictatorships did. Any data coming from the First Order was practically meaningless.

Your time was running thin. You knew nothing of the Emperor’ whereabouts, but you were sure he wouldn’t spend the entire night out — he had to be back before sunrise, after all.

Biting your bottom lip, you searched for your name…

…your heart thundered in your chest as you waited for the results.

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Library

An hour ago

Without the Emperor’s presence, your dinner was uneventful. Quite peaceful and enjoyable, if you might add. Honestly, he kind of set you on edge — being in his company was… not what you’d have expected. Mostly because you thought you’d simply and unabashedly hate him. Certain feelings such as the empathy and guilty you felt that morning caught you off guard.

You’d rather not think about the desire.

He was an attractive man, sure. You knew you may hate him all you wanted, but you couldn’t deny he was… desirable. And the things he did to you earlier… In your very first encounter…

…in another life.

You shook your head.

Part of you was sure he’d messed with your mind. There was no other explanation for how you felt that morning. He could be the handsomest man in the galaxy and still… you’d hate him. You still hated him. Right?

Kriffs!

You were no horny teenager.

Your teen years had gone by ages ago. You were a mother of two. You had your priorities straight. But that morning… He messed with your senses. First the dreams… then the admiration — he was indeed a great politician —, the guilty, the empathy and lastly the burning desire that left you agape. Your hatred for him and his organization was the last thought in your mind in that shared moment in the greenhouse. Obviously, it wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t interfere with your mind.

And yet… You had kissed him. He did nothing until you made the first move. He respected your rhythm and if not for the datacard, you weren’t sure if you’d have stopped him.

No.

You’d have.

And if you didn’t, it was solely his fault. For evil shouldn’t be allowed to be this… alluring.

After you were given clearance by the sentry droids — so much for you are free to go as you please, Miss Minara —, you set your mind to search something on the First Order’s archives. You knew you wouldn’t be able to find much, but what you were looking for could be… found in the form of paper books, perhaps.

Holobooks were easily manipulated. Books were another thing altogether. It was obvious that a man who got his facts straight and knew so much about Galactic History would have paper books at his disposal in a Palace this huge.

The Library was magnificent — everything about the Imperial Palace was, to be honest — and the amount of different works was otherworldly, which would give you a bit of trouble. To go through their archives would be no easy task. But you had to know.

There was absolutely no mention to you in their database — which was unacceptable. You were one of them before, an aspiring Officer, rising in the First Order ranks. Your past life — your life with them — was honestly a huge blur. You recalled some of their procedures, you recalled the life style — kriffs! You even recalled the intense physical training the troopers went under Captain Cardinal and later on under Captain Phasma; you recalled how brainwashed everyone was in the First Order and all you ever wanted to know was how you got rid of them.

All you could remember was that you left and a few days later you found out you were pregnant. With twins.

The idea of the father of your children being someone inside the Order sickened you to death — but you knew that was not only a possibility…

You bit your bottom lip.

There was no time to think about that. It didn’t matter who their father was — he wasn’t there to begin with. Steela and Nik were your children and your children alone. You had to focus on the fact that someone had tampered with your files. You were one of them once — regretfully — and you knew the First Order didn’t simply let go of their assets. You had seen stormtroopers and even Officer being shot dead for even less before. Or disappear, the most common procedure.

How could you simply leave when you were pregnant without something drastic happening to you? Birth control in the First Order was taken very seriously. Pregnancies only happened if there was some kind of political interest attached to it.

Part of you was glad you had left. You knew what would happen if you stayed… You chewed the inside of your cheeks. They wouldn’t have let you keep your children — if they were even born to begin with.

If you were able to leave, it was because you never existed in their files. It was because someone in there — someone powerful — let you leave. And you were sure it wasn’t General Mitaka — a mere scared lieutenant back then. He helped you — getting settled, finding a home, providing for your children — because someone with sway told him to.

Not to mention, how could you become a journalist and start writing articles about the First Order — about the General-turned-Supreme-Leader himself — without having something huge happening to you? Press Freedom had nothing to do with it.

Someone in the highest ranks of the First Order wanted you alive. It had crossed your mind that it was the Emperor’s doing. You were sure no Officer would be able to leave the First Order without his express authorization. However…

However…

If he let you leave, what could he possibly want with you now?

You had absolutely no time to concentrate on your book before your comm beeped. Swallowing, you put the book back in its shelf.

The Emperor had returned.

Imperial Palace, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Simulator Room

Now

You were caught off guard when the Supreme Leader announced he’d be waiting for you in the simulator room. Accompanied by another droid that gave you clearance, you found him practicing in the shooting range.

Honestly, you shouldn’t be impressed with his skills. He was a vampire and as such, his vision, coordination, and ability to concentrate vastly surpassed any other sentient being — except for those strong with the Force, you were sure no other species were a match for him. But there was another reason why you had a stupid look in your face.

The Resistance’s simulation rooms couldn’t hold a candle to this very… place — whatever it was, for it was so much more than a simulation room. To put it bluntly, the First Order had not only the best training methods at their disposal, they had the best equipment too. And facilities. Well… With the income getting lower by the second, the Resistance had to make do with what they had — with what you had.

The idea of considering the Resistance something that had no relation to you made you feel mad at yourself.

You told yourself you were just tired. Some sleep would set your priorities straight — finding why there was no record about you shouldn’t be your main concern; you were there to find a way to bring the Emperor down. By any means necessary.

Shaking such thoughts aside, you watched as he hit the targets one by one with an accuracy akin to everything you’d ever seen. Not only that, but he was also fast — faster than your eyes could follow.

Deadly.

“That was impressive,” you said, approaching him as he hit the last of the standing targets.

He didn’t give you an answer as he pressed a small button near him. Quickly, all the targets were rearranged; his blaster handed to you.

“Your turn,” he said, finally turning to face you.

His expression was somber. Cold. Whatever happened — wherever he went — to him, it wasn’t something of his liking.

You took two steps backs, not sure what to do. So far, your cover was practically intact. Except for knowing you were responsible for leaking the news about the Starkiller Superweapon in the Gala, he’d no way of confirming you were with the Resistance — at least you hoped so; all he had was his growing suspicions — but if you took that blaster in your hands…

To put it simply, he’d question where you learned to shoot. Your accuracy rate was far from his, but you stood comfortably at 90%. A little higher for a simple journalist. Kriffs! A little higher than many stormtroopers. A little higher for even an ex Officer of the First Order.

You blinked as another vision — for the maker! What was happening to you? — took over you. This time, you were practicing; blaster in hands. He was behind you… distracting you. His lips skimmed the column of your neck and his hands ran over your nude arms. You threw your head back, exposing more of your skin to his hungry mouth.

As soon as it came, it was gone.

“I’m a journalist,” you reminded him, not daring to get too closer. You certainly didn’t want a reprisal of that morning. As it was, the images in the back of your mind were already too much.

He seemed to have guessed your thoughts — and this time he couldn’t have read them, for you kept a tight control of your emotions and mind —, for his eyes darkened as they swept over your form.

You held your breath as his stare returned to your face. He didn’t remain looking at you for long, though. He stepped away, approaching a tray where a bottle of Bespin Port and one glass sat. Pouring some of the wine in a goblet, he didn’t take his time to properly savor it. Once again, your mind was invaded with scenes… of you and him.

You blinked again, trying to disperse the images in the back of your eyes, but it was just so… clear. Like a memory. Echoes of a distant past that was somehow etched in your mind, but clearly forgotten. You pressed a hand to your forehead, but as you massaged your temples, you couldn’t help the torrential images.

…the two of you were in a room with a rather minimalist decoration. You were holding a glass of wine, savoring it slowly, while he busied himself with a datapad; brows furrowed in concern. You removed the datapad from his hands and took your seat in his lap, placing a small kiss to his forehead. He ran his hands over your nude thighs, sighing in appreciation as you massaged his scalp. I’ve got work to do, he said when you kissed the corner of his mouth. You work too much, you replied. And you work too little, he whispered before snatching your lips in a light kiss.

“I am here to help you, should you need it.”

His voice dragged you back from your thoughts. Your heart sped at what he said — not so much at the content, but at his tone and the way his lips were lightly tilted upwards.

He knew.

There was no way he didn’t. You were once an Officer and every Officer in that kriffing First Order knew how to shoot. Your superiors were very insistent with accuracy rate. Anything under 70% was simply unacceptable.

You took the blaster from his hand, a bit unsure. Nevertheless, before you could do anything, he raised his hand, in a silent command for you to stay put. And then, without further explanations, he left the shooting range.

You thought about following him, but you stopped yourself as you saw the BB-unit leaving through the private elevator in the backroom. Trying your best to be subtle, you took the blaster in your hand and aimed towards the moving targets. With your back turned to the glassy surface that allowed anyone in the backroom to observe the whoever was in the shooting range, you started firing.

If the droid noticed you, it didn’t alert the Emperor of your earlier escapade — that, or the Emperor already knew. The droid made a series of beeps and boops you were unable to understand over the sound of your firing. You could only hear his response, a simple, “Send her away, Deebee-three.”

You could feel his eyes on your back, so you had no choice but to keep firing. His steps were heard, but they stopped when the elevator’s doors opened again. You thought the droid was about to leave, but this time a woman stepped out of the elevator.

Other than a please, help me! she didn’t have time to say anything else, for two stormtroopers entered from another door and took her by the arms. When they dragged her back to the elevator, you saw the biting marks on her pulse and her neck, not to mention the ones related to sharp needles both in her arms and hands.

A gasp left you.

I don’t do blood slaves.

You pressed your fingers more firmly to the blaster, hitting the targets as quickly as possible. Your nearly perfect accuracy went through the window. Your hands were shaking and a boiling rage took over you. Not only he did do blood slaves — and you didn’t know why you were surprised; it was obvious that a creature such as himself had no qualms about lying — but he also allowed her to be dragged away so violently. And he still dared to talk about the New Republic fighting over petty politics while good people starved in the far corners of the Galaxy.

“You said you didn’t do blood slaves,” you spoke as soon as he stepped back in the shooting range.

This time, his fast answer caught you off guard, “I don’t.”

You bit your bottom lip.

And he still dared to lie. Did he think you were stupid?

“I saw her marks.”

He snorted.

“She’s has four children to rise. And the New Republic you defend so religiously in your articles will do nothing to help people like her.” His words felt like a slap to your face, but he didn’t seem keen on stopping anytime soon. “While Populists and Centrists fight over useless bills that can do nothing to improve people’s lives in the Galaxy, people like her have to make meets end.”

As if he cared!

“So you do admit paying for her blood.”

His clear irises were focused on you as he replied, unashamedly, “It tastes better than synthetic blood or blood bags. She isn’t my personal donator, though. I know better than to leave them marked.”

Your eyes widened.

You shuddered.

The way he spoke about her — with such an icy, disdainful tone; as if he wasn’t talking about a sentient being — made you realize he didn’t give a damn about anyone that wasn’t he himself. His answer, albeit simple, caught your attention for another reason.

The blood banks.

Of course!

They weren’t for him. Their sole purpose was to provide for his donators — for any other vampire that did this donator thing. Thus, he could have the fresh blood he craved and, at the same time, avoid leaving a trail of corpses wherever he went. Clever. Evil, but clever.

“If you really cared, you’d give her money without forcing her to go through... this.”

In two steps he was in front of you, invading your personal space. He tilted your chin backwards, forcing you to stare at him. He traced your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but shiver. It felt too close like that morning to your liking.

“Are you offering yourself, Miss Minara?”

You hated him so much it was hard to control your urges to spit in his face. As if he didn’t pay attention to how you squirmed in his hold, he ran a nail over your jugular, quite but not piercing it.

“It’s more pleasurable than you think, although not at all devoid of pain.”

A gasp left you wrapped a hand around your throat. He didn’t do anything else, letting go of you and walking around the shooting range. He took his time looking at the targets, analyzing your accuracy. He nodded, in what you assumed was an appreciative gesture.

“You don’t have to worry,” he started, his hands running over the blaster as he took down the few targets you were unable to. “She’s already gone home with enough credits to provide for her family for weeks to come.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“I’m relieved to know. Raising a child can be—

You stopped yourself before you could say more. But you quickly realized how much you screwed up. If starting that line was a mistake, cutting it short was fatal.

He set his eyes on you. They were much darker and inquisitive than you recalled — even if compared to your previous moments together.

Mother of moons!

“What do you know of supporting a family, Miss Minara?” his voice sent a chill up your spine. “Do you have any child?”

A/N - That’s it for today, kids! That’s also the last chapter I posted on AO3, I’m still working on chapter 4... but I can’t promise when I’ll update it. I’m also running out of ITGB chapters, so you’ll be left only with LTM updates regularly on Fridays.

#hux x reader #hux x you #vampire!hux #vampire hux #bloodbound #bb #vampire in space #space vampires #general hux x reader #geneal hux x you #armitage hux x you #armitage hux x reader #sequels #sequels fanfics #star wars #star wars fanfic

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armeniaitn · 3 years

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Rhode Island Governor signs law creating Genocide and Holocaust Education Commission

New Post has been published on https://armenia.in-the.news/society/rhode-island-governor-signs-law-creating-genocide-and-holocaust-education-commission-77237-05-08-2021/

Rhode Island Governor signs law creating Genocide and Holocaust Education Commission

Rhode Island Governor Daniel J. McKee held a ceremonial signing of legislation today that creates a permanent commission on genocide and Holocaust education in the state. Attending were sponsors of the bill from both the House and Senate, House Majority Whip Katherine S. Kazarian (D-Dist. 63, East Providence), Rep. Rebecca Kislak (D-Dist. 4, Providence) and Sen. Gayle Goldin, along with members of the current RI Holocaust and Genocide Education Coalition, chairman Marty Cooper, Weekly editor Pauline Getzoyan and Barbara Wahlberg, the Armenian Weekly reports.

The legislation (2021-H 5650A, 2021-S 0840A) formalizes a commission to implement the 2016 law introduced by Sen. Goldin and Rep. Kazarian to require public schools to teach students about genocide and the Holocaust. Under the new law, the commission will gather and disseminate Holocaust and genocide information, work with the Department of Education to update and promote statewide Holocaust and genocide education programs, and promote public awareness of issues relating to Holocaust and genocide education. In addition, it designates April as Holocaust and Genocide Awareness Month, which will assist with curriculum planning and promote statewide discussion about the subject.

The signing followed a gathering of the current coalition celebrating passage of the law. Rep. Kislak stopped by to offer her congratulations last Thursday. “I learned a lot during this process, particularly about the organized campaign of denial,” she told attendees including ANC-RI representative Steve Elmasian. Rep. Kislak was referencing the strong opposition the measure faced from the Turkish lobby on both sides of the legislature. That opposition focused on inclusion of the Armenian Genocide in the bills and almost succeeded in stalling the process. But then the coalition members, the Armenian National Committee of RI (ANC-RI) and the RI Jewish Alliance stepped in, sending letters and emails and making phone calls to key decision-makers to ensure the measures passed from committee to full House and Senate votes. The advocates’ communications offered heartfelt, often personal, and professional educational explanations about the necessity of a state commission, ultimately persuading the House and Senate committees on education to move their respective bills to votes.

Key sponsors of the legislation offered public statements on the importance of establishing a state commission on Genocide and Holocaust education.

“As hate crimes have been rising in our own country over the last few years, it’s particularly important that students are taught about the catastrophic atrocities that have been committed when the seeds of hate are planted,” said Rep. Kazarian, who cosponsored this bill. All eight of her great-grandparents are survivors of the Armenian Genocide. “My family’s own history involving the Armenian Genocide has shown me that these events in history should never be forgotten. It is important that our children recognize and understand how such terrible events can occur in society, and more importantly, how to stop them from happening.”

“So many Rhode Islanders’ families are from communities that have been impacted by genocides,” said Rep. Kislak. “Listening to each other’s stories and learning about those diverse histories will help us see the humanity in one another and build stronger communities. This law will…raise awareness of genocides that have affected Rhode Islanders and have shaped our communities’ histories,” she concluded.

“Given the hate and bigotry that is common in public discourse today, it is especially important to educate students about the incredible damage that prejudice and intolerance have caused throughout history. The best way to ensure our future generations never repeat these actions is to teach them about the impact the Holocaust and other genocides have had in our world. Learning about our past provides perspective on current world events. It is also an opportunity for people to learn from one another about experiences of oppression,” said Sen. Goldin, whose grandparents fled eastern Europe to Canada during the pogroms. Those who were unable to escape died in either the pogroms or the Holocaust.

Sen. Thomas J. Paolino (R-Dist. 17, Lincoln, North Providence, North Smithfield), a cosponsor of the Senate legislation, also lost family in the Armenian Genocide. “My relatives have a keen understanding of how hate and bigotry can escalate to reverberate through generations,” said Sen. Paolino in a statement. “It is important that we educate society on the warning signs of genocide. Learning the history about these atrocities and how to prevent them will best protect our future.”

Current coalition chairman Cooper recognized the efforts of former state senator Aram Garabedian who introduced the initial legislation to create genocide curriculum materials, including the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust and has worked tirelessly on genocide education efforts. In addition, Cooper pointed out that the 2016 law requiring the teaching of the subject in the state’s schools, along with the new law forming the commission, would not have been possible without the ongoing and persistent efforts of the sponsoring legislators and coalition partners. Those partners include the ANC-RI, Genocide Education Project, Sandra Bornstein Holocaust Center, Jewish Alliance of Greater Rhode Island, RI Board of Rabbis, RIDE and RI Commission on Prejudice and Bias, along with members of the Armenian, Jewish, Cambodian, African and Indigenous communities.

ANC-RI advocate and member of the current coalition Esther Kalajian believes the formation of a state commission legitimizes the curriculum that appears on the RI Department of Education (RIDE) website. “Through this established curriculum and the continued work of the commission, RI’s students will not only receive instruction on historical facts but also gain important skills to participate in civil discourse, appreciate diversity of thought and abide by inclusive principles,” said Kalajian.

Wahlberg, who taught a course about the Armenian Genocide, the Holocaust and other genocides at Cranston East High School, believes that the new commission should partner not only with school district administrations and school committees, but also with recognized organizations such as the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, the Genocide Education Project and the USC Shoah Foundation, among others, to provide quality resources for teachers to use in the classroom. “Providing teachers with the necessary tools in order to teach this difficult and often controversial history will ensure that the classroom curricula being presented to students is vetted and legitimate information,” said Wahlberg. Quoting philosopher and humanist George Santayana, she said that we learn history in order to not repeat history. “However, many of us are too aware of how Santayana’s words, as well as the mantra ‘never again’ have not been heeded, and we step into this quagmire again and again as the incidence of genocide continues across the globe,” she continued, saying that the newly-formed commission will ensure that we learn our history in order to ensure our future.

Len Newman, another coalition member, educator and child of Holocaust survivors for whom “the horrors and cruelties of war are among the lenses” through which he lives his life, has always fought for social justice. He feels that the new law creating the commission “is a further reflection of the commitment that Rhode Island has to educate its students and to social justice.”

Cooper went on to say that while the current coalition has done outstanding work, much more needs to be done that only a commission can oversee, including stronger accountability from schools and school districts relating to Holocaust and genocide education and a system of monitoring and assisting in ensuring school compliance with the 2016 law.

“This is about understanding what hate can produce,” said Cooper, continuing, “It is also about awareness and what can be done to stop atrocities currently happening and to create a civil understanding that will reduce the possibility of future genocides.” He was moved by President Joe Biden’s acknowledgment of the Armenian Genocide on April 24 this year, quoting, “Let us also turn our eyes to the future—toward the world that we wish to build for our children.”

Following the signing, Gov. McKee spent a few moments chatting with the current coalition members, outlining the next steps for formalizing the commission, which is effective immediately.

Read original article here.

#Society

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sthayil · 3 years

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2020 Reading Goal Outcomes

Goal: 52 books in 2020, re-reads don’t count, romance novels don’t count, and read at least half non-fiction.

Result: 53 books, but only 14 non-fiction. Will try again next year!

Half girlfriend, by Chetan Bhagat. My first time reading this author, which half of India seems to love to hate. An easy read that still had me reflecting on elitism, English, and privilege in India.

Coming out as Dalit, by Yashica Dutt. A heartfelt memoir on caste-based discrimination in India. A very close-hitting book, and I had never thought about caste until I attended the Jaipur Literary festival and heard Dutt speak. I didn’t know the caste of any of my Indian friends, and realised that I probably did not know anyone who was Dalit, and didn’t know anyone who was “out” as Dalit. I thought that the Syrian Christian community was post-caste, but actually we are complicit in upholding caste-based discrimination through the centuries. This book will stay with me for a long time.

The Receptionist, by Janet Groth. A memoir of the author’s decades as receptionist at the New Yorker. I didn’t realise how segregated New York used to be. Got the feeling that this was written for a specific group of people. Favourite quote: “Anyone who cries as easily as you do is pretty tough. You don’t give an inch; you give only tears.”

First They Killed My Father, by Loung Ung. Devastating account of the author’s childhood in Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge regime and genocide.

Bright Stain, by Francesca Bell. Brutal, graceful collection of poetry. “Let me tell you, at forty-two, it is a deep delicious pleasure not to be dewy or fresh as a fucking daisy.”

Homeland, by R. A. Salvatore.

Exile, by R. A. Salvatore.

Sojourn, by R. A. Salvatore. Found a new fantasy author I want to keep following! Only new to me though, R. A. Salvatore is one of the masters of fantasy and his world The Forgotten Realms is apparently very popular in games. This is the first trilogy in his series and I really enjoyed it. Will continue to read from this world.

Dreamer’s Pool, by Juliet Marillier.

Tower of Thorns, by Juliet Marillier.

Den of Wolves, by Juliet Marillier. Rediscovered one of my favourite authors from high school, when I realised the New York public library has a search and hold system so I can request particular books I want! This series was deeply satisfying, there’s nothing better than reading a new series by a beloved author.

The Reproach of Hunger, by David Rieff. A searing critique of the current global food system and the world of development. One hand trying to fix problems the other created. Nothing but a strengthening of the state and deepening of democracy will fix the mess we are in.

Roar, by Cecelia Ahern. A collection of wonderful short stories of women in magical realist situations based on common expressions. Eg. The Woman Who Wore Her Heart on Her Sleeve is a small story about a medical miracle who literally wore her heart on her sleeve. The Woman With A Strong Suit is about a woman who literally searches an entire department store for the perfect suit. Adorable but powerful stories of the voices of women and the bizarre lives we lead in the modern world.

Can You Tolerate This, by Ashleigh Young. A poet’s first non-fiction work, a collection of essays about her life and memories in mainly NZ, along with interesting stories she hears/reads about from elsewhere. I most liked the first story about the skeletal disease, and the long memory of her brother’s Big Red sweater.

A New Dawn, by Various. I feel like I’m cheating by adding this to my non-fiction count. It’s a collection of essays by popular authors, reacting to the Twilight series. Very light reading.

The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm, by Christopher Paolini. A set of short stories that takes place after the Inheritance cycle! I didn’t know he kept writing! This was so exciting to find. A lovely return to a series I read and reread for years when growing up.

Catwoman Soulstealer, by Sarah J. Maas. Saw another book by Maas at the library and had to pick it up. She is always a winner.

The Uses and Abuses of History, by Margaret MacMillan. Never take history simplistically, and that if you go in looking for proof for your plan, there are sufficient examples in history to find what you are looking for. So always be careful.

The Financial Diet, by Chelsea Fagan and Lauren Have. I watch their Youtube channel, so it was nice seeing their book on the shelf here at my sublet. A quick and easy read especially if you watch their videos. Intuitive and reassuring stuff.

Men Explain Things to Me, by Rebecca Solnit. Collection of feminist essays.

Poison Princess, by Kresley Cole

Endless Knight, by Kresley Cole

Dead of Winter, by Kresley Cole

Day Zero, by Kresley Cole

Arcana Rising, by Kresley Cole

The Dark Calling, by Kresley Cole. Kresley Cole’s first YA series, still quite good, but the final book is still not out! Will have to wait for next year to finish this. I would not have started if I realised it wouldn’t end in time.

One Day We’ll All Be Dead And None Of This Will Matter, by Scaachi Kaul. Collection of essays by an Indian Immigrant to Canada. I was fortunate to grow up in Asia. What is my dominant exposure? Did I ever have one?

Doing It, by Hannah Witton. A good book for folks with limited sex ed. My main takeaway is how depressing the side effects list is for almost all methods of female contraception.

Post-Truth, by Matthew D’Ancona. A political and philosophical manifesto, examining what is going on today, and a call for us to challenge it. Facts must be presented in both an emotional and rational way in order to prevail.

Dark Currents, by Jacqueline Carey

Autumn Bones, by Jacqueline Carey

Poison Fruit, by Jacqueline Carey. Found another author whose YA fiction I hadn’t read before. The Terre D’Ange series is still my favourite, but this is good too.

Santa Olivia, by Jacqueline Carey

Saints Astray, by Jacqueline Carey. Another win for Carey!

The Dragon Keeper, by Robin Hobb

Dragon Haven, by Robin Hobb

City of Dragons, by Robin Hobb

Blood of Dragons, by Robin Hobb. So happy to have found a new author! This was a great fantasy series, and for once the dragons were not perfect glorious creatures, but just another species in the world. Will keep reading Hobb.

Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer. This was good but the topic is so awful. I was off chicken for weeks after reading this and still haven’t fully come back. I’m really thinking about going more and more towards vegetarianism now.

Pop Empires: Transnational and Diasporic Flows of India and Korea, edited by Allison Alexy, Monika Mehta, Robert Ji-Song Ku, S. Heijin Lee. I finally got around to reading this after attending the book signing in NYC ages ago, and this was such a good collection! I so much enjoyed the different slices of analysis from film, anthropology, history, etc.

The Crystal Shard, by R. A. Salvatore

Streams of Silver, by R. A. Salvatore

The Halfling’s Gem, by R. A. Salvatore. I can see why people like this author, but I wish I had found him earlier, maybe in my early teens. Then I think I would have really loved it. Reading this as an adult just makes me think of other fantasy series where there were higher stakes and the characters were not so perfect all the time. There is a lot of good adventure here, but not much emotion.

Canticle, by R. A. Salvatore

In Sylvan Shadows, by R. A. Salvatore. I spoke too soon. I complained of perfection with Drizzt, but Cadderly’s sheer wimpyness is driving me insane. He’s too good for war, he has “compassion”, but it’s all well and good for all his friends to go to war and kill people, just not precious Cadderly.

Night Masks, by R. A. Salvatore. Alright, he’s starting to grow up, but he is still incredibly squeamish about getting his own hands dirty and the hypocrisy of it is very irritating.

The Fallen Fortress, by R. A. Salvatore.

The Chaos Curse, by R. A. Salvatore.

The Legacy, by R. A. Salvatore.

Starless Night, by R. A. Salvatore. I think I’ll pause here for a bit. Too much Salvatore for me. There are 30 books in this series alone.

Zelaldinus, by Irwin Allen Sealy. A wonderful amalgamation of bits and pieces of prose and poetry to do with a ghost of Jalaluddin Akbar.

Blood Rights, by Kristen Painter. Started a new series to feed my Maas withdrawals. It’s just okay so far.

Flesh and Blood, by Kristen Painter.

#reading goals #bookworm

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benevolenterrancy · 6 years

Note

Maybe Herawell?

I’ve never written Herawell... or Maxwell at all, so this was a fun challenge (and a good excuse to relisten to season three episodes)! Definitely not a drabble but I had an idea and I wanted to roll with it. I’ve also posted it up on my AO3.

By now, Maxwell knew the Hephaestus like an old friend.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that if she hadold friends, she would know them as well as the Hephaestus.

She sees the blueprints in her head, sees them shift andswim through their three dimensional mapping, the layers of crew pathways andservice corridors overlaid with technical graphs of wiring and pipes andcarefully labelled systems that blurred over top of each other until she, withbarely a thought, dissected them from one another and superimpose them over hersurroundings. She was in engineering,but she wasn’t just inengineering. To her right she passed acomms terminal, and snaking through that wall was a network that connected itto three other engineering terminals to create a subsystem, partitioned off themain systems for safety reasons. Immediately beneath her feet were three different branches of theHephaestus’ heating ducts, and below that was a primary power node. Overhead, she knew there were four differentnetworks of wires, all carrying different information at impossible speeds allover the ship. Interspersed through allof this was the grid of cameras and sensors and auditor inputs used by themother program to supervise the station and its inhabitants. All of this hidden from sight buteffortlessly visible in her mind’s eye.

With ease she moved through the stuffy, complex maze ofengineering, not even looking up from the tablet in her hand and she pushed herway along. She was trying to make senseof an error that had cropped up yesterday in the ventilation system. It had been a strange, brief tick and shemight have overlooked it if it weren’t for the fact that it quite literally should not have happened. As far as she could tell there was no triggerthat should have set it off, it was a completely inscrutable puzzle, and that annoyed Alana Maxwell. So here she was, attempting to hunt it downto its root system.

She may have very well continued on her way, comfortable inthe busy silence of an unsolved dilemma (one that took her blissfully far awayfrom the unmitigated chaos of the rest of the ship since the colonel had betterthings to do than slum in engineering, Lovelace and Minkowski were bothdutifully busy with their own work, and Eiffel wasn’t likely to go somewherethat might require him needing to actually work. Honestly Maxwell was grateful for thattoday. Today wasn’t a day she felt muchlike being around other people. Jacobiby now knew to leave well enough alone; he’d given her shoulder a brief pat inthe morning when they had passed in the kitchen and that had been the extent ofit.

So it was just her and the machines. Really, if you thought about it, that wasn’tso much sad as much as it was… a tradition.

That might actually be more sad, if she let herself think aboutit too much. Which she didn’t.

This peace was broken though, when one of the machines spokeup.

“Doctor Maxwell, stop!”

Hera’s voice was so sudden and so filled with cracklingpanic that Maxwell didn’t even question it. That, and the sharp warning beeps that came half a second after told hervery clearly that she needed to quitmoving now. She scrambled to stop herself as quickly as shecould while gliding in zero-G. Shedidn’t stop a moment too soon; immediately in front her face one of the pressurerelease values on engine systems gave an ear-piercing shriek as it released askin-burning cloud of built-up steam. Even from where she clung to the pipe that had slowed her down, Alanacould feel the sizzle of super-heated water vapour across her cheeks.

The steam died back down as quickly as it had come, leavingthe room silent besides for the plinkplink of cooling metal. Maxwell tooka moment to compose herself and come to terms with her near death experiencebefore speaking.

“Maxwell? Doctor Maxwell? Are you okay? …Alana?”

Maxwell breathed carefully. The air felt all the colder passing into her lungs after that burst ofsteam.

“I am… okay, Hera. Barely, but okay. At least Iwasn’t done up like steamed broccoli so it could have been worse. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what the hell was that.”

A semi-omniscient artificial intelligence that was fullyintegrated with a space stations couldn’t actually flinch, but Hera definitelytried.

After the uncomfortable static died down, Maxwell asked, asgently as she could, “Hera are youfeeling okay? That was a reallyunexpected pressure build up, and–”

“No no no, I’m fine! I’m fantastic! I am – with allthe work you’ve already done for me, Doctor Maxwell, I’ve honestly never felt better. It was just… I was doing a fewadjustments of our orbit and I guess it just put a bit more strain on theengines than I had calculated. Sillymistake! Must have, um, forgotten tocarry the one?”

Maxwell crossed her arms. She’d gone from being shocked and mildly concerned to down rightsuspicious. “You’ve been spending toomuch time around Eiffel,” she said flatly.

Hera couldn’t really deny that. She swore she used to be a better liar.

“Seriously, Hera, what’s wrong? And can we not do the usual song and dancearound this. Just… let me know whatneeds to be fixed, so I can fix it. Letme help.”

“Nothing needs to be fixed – well, no, that cooling tank bythe starboard thruster is still running at a loss for some reason, and I’m notsure that reroute you patched in last week has fully settled – but what I meanto say is… this was just an accident. Honest. And besides, youshouldn’t be overworking yourself today, right? Right! Right, so let’s forget it.”

Maxwell squinted.

“What’s thatsupposed to mean?”

Hera seemed to realize she’d taken a misstep because shefumbled to self-correct. “What? Mean? Nothing! Just… you’re a…hardworking individual and you shouldn’t work… too… hard.”

“Why is today so special?” she demanded, though she knewwhy. “Look, whatever you think you knowabout me, Hera–”

“Look, I wasn’t snooping just to snoop! Well, not much. Maybe a little. It happened while we were patching code fromthe Urania into my databanks. It’s allbeing shoved into my head, it’s hard notto look and it was just a little date and it wasn’t exactly classified – much –anyway! It’s not really a big deal,right? Except… then you haven’t saidanything about it and no one else has said anything about it and now I’mthinking maybe it is a big deal and,yeah…” she trailed off.

Maxwell just sighed.

“Alright, let’s just… get this out in the open then. Yes, it’s my birthday. I suppose I shouldn’t have really expectedyou not to figure that out.”

“Happy birthday?” Hera offered tentatively.

“Not really,” said Maxwell pointedly. “Look, you know and… honestly, I’msurprisingly okay with you knowing. Because it’s you. But I don’twant to talk about it or acknowledge it or anything. Get it? I don’t exactly have a lot of great memories about birthdays and honest,I’d rather just be busy.”

Math, numbers, machines, those had always been there, thosehad always been constant. Growing up,nothing else really had been. She lookedback on her time in public school mostly with resentment. They hadn’t know what they had had. They had left her alone and bored andstagnating. They had left her with herfather and left her with her inscrutable classmates and left her inmotherfucking Montana. But at the time, as a child, she had likedschool, as much as she’d liked most things. Oh, she had hated her classmates, and hated the lonely boredom of recessand lunch until she had learned to smile and charm and convince her peers totolerate her on a surface level. She hadhated how boring the work had been and how stupid her classmates had seemed. But school at least had been constant. Every weekday, eight to two. And once a year, like every other student intheir small elementary school, the principal would call her name over the morningannouncements to mention to a mostly uncaring student body that it was herbirthday and to invite her to get a birthday pencil from the office. It had been predictable. It had, when she was younger and more naïve,made her feel good. Once a year, atleast one person would wish her a happy birthday. She had heard plenty of stories about whatbirthdays were supposed to be like, heard peers talk, read it in books, seen iton TV. Parents pampering you, presents,parties, praise. Some years her fatherremember. Some years she wished he didn’t. Most it wasn’t an issue, but it wasn’tmentioned.

But she would spend the entire day on edge, wondering if,if, if, if he would remember, and if he did what would happen. It had been an unpredictable, anxious sort ofday. Most years she would drag herbiggest, and most interesting books into her room – whatever she’d been able tocheck out of the school’s little library or borrow from the classroom – andread. She’d look at the grade six mathbook that was theoretically three years too advance for her and let the simpleequations solve themselves before her eyes, she’d read about space and scienceand exploration and imagine the hidden math there. A rocket went up to space. How? The book didn’t tell. She wouldspend the evening on her stomach with paper and pencils in front of her as sheimagined how it worked, why it worked, if she could make it work. The math was constant. It kept her busy. It was a good friend.

And yes, she realized that that sounded sad. Childhood trauma and all that, the plight ofa child genius, everyone had heard the narrative before. She shut it down and locked it up behindfirewalls and deleted the directories that lead back there. It was unnecessary baggage, a glitch in herprograming, an obsolete file that slowed her down. But command_code: “birthday” had a way ofdrawing those memories back up. So shekept busy.

Maxwell spoke first, eager to change the subject. “So how about we figure out what the heck hasbeen causing these weird alarms over the past few days. At this point I’m thinking there might besomething wrong with the alarm trigger itself, with the audio, because–”

“I, uh… I know what’s wrong.”

“…Are you serious? Sowhat, you’ve just been watching me scramble around trying to figure it out? Hera, if this is a prank you have really been spending too much timearound Eiffel.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Hera…”

“I’m serious! Well, Imean technically there were thingsthat were wrong for a very, very briefamount of time. I was trying to surpriseyou and so I was… practicing.”

“By… breaking the ship? I mean, I would have beensurprised if we’d suddenly dropped into the star but I think everyone elsewould have been too.”

“Oh, so I need to keep you updated about every time I adjustany system, but you don’t even have to tell me that it’s your birthday!” snapped Hera, clearly riled.

“What does that have to do with anything?” demanded Maxwell,feeling just as frustrated.

“Because it’s your birthday!”

“So what? Kepler’s isnext month, do you give a shit about that?”

“No! Because that’s Kepler, and this is you. I care because it’s yourbirthday! This is the day you started existing. And I thought that we… I thought…” The glitch was thick in her voice. “I thought you would c-care if I knew.”

The action was immediately, without any sort of thought; Maxwellreached out and put a hand on the nearest pipe. It was an absolutely insane, nonsensical thing to do. To say that Hera was the Hephaestus was agross over-simplification to begin with, but even if you did make that leap itwasn’t like there was any sensation for Hera to experience by Maxwell touchingsome arbitrary part of the station. Shecouldn’t tell that Maxwell’s hand was soft. Apologetic. Shocked and sincereand overwhelmed but not knowing how to feel any of that let alone voice it.

“I don’t really dobirthdays. Not a lot of great memoriesfor me.” Please understand.

“I get that, I just…” said Hera, with stops and starts. “I’m sorry, I’m going to mess all this up. I just, I wanted you to know that I’m g-gladyou exist. And I get not liking whereyou c-came from, but I don’t care aboutthat. Who cares if the person who madeyou was a b-bad person? I’m glad youexist, like this, now.”

Maxwell could feel her hand tighten its grip on the pipe asher throat tightened around a lump of emotions rising up from her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so she saidnothing.

For a moment it was silent, or as silent as engineering evergot. Just the sound of a single humanand thousands of pounds of complex machinery co-existing. And a single AI thinking carefully before shespoke.

Finally, Hera said, with great tentativeness, “Can I giveyou my gift now? I… I was still working itout but I think it should be ready.”

That startled Maxwell. “Alright, Hera, you’re pretty amazing but – no, you are possibly the most amazing person I know – butthere are limits. You don’t have hands, Hera. We’re stuck in a tin can eight lightyearsaway from earth.” Laughter was breakinginto her voice, a disbelieving, amazed, intrigued laughter. She was curious. Not just curious, but completelystumped. You couldn’t just get someonesomething when you had next to no resources to begin with and were existing ina tiny bubble in the middle of space. And yet she was supposed to believe Hera had somehow managed it? Just because it was Maxwell’s birthday?

Honestly, if anyone could manage it, she supposed the factthat Hera had surprised her the least. No matter what that little voice in her head might insist, Hera wascapable of so much. Maxwell had builther life around artificial intelligence, and yet Hera was constantly,endlessly, relentlessly amazing her. Notbecause she was a great AI, but because Hera was, unerringly, a greatperson. A great, shocking, frustrating,wonderful person.

“I have my ways,” said Hera, with a smug pride in her voicethat was so far removed from the helplessness that she was still workingthrough that Maxwell couldn’t help but smile. ”So… do you want it?”

“Yes, I’m too curious now.”

“I know all your weaknesses,” teased Hera. “You’re going to have to wait for just onesecond. It’s a little tricky to getgoing.”

Maxwell floated in the middle of engineering, waiting.

Then a warning buzzer went off somewhere below her. Maxwell was in the middle of doing afull-body twist – immediately looking for what was going wrong was such aningrained instinct at this point that she didn’t even think about it – when thebuzz cut off. And then another alarmbeeped, its lights flashing. Andbeeped. Stopped. A higher pinging, a warning bell, and soonMaxwell was listening to a choir of notification pings and alarm buzzes andalert beeps play out in what, she realized with delighted awe, was asurprisingly recognizable rendition of HappyBirthday. And this wasn’t just Herapiping music or even noise through her speakers. No, Maxwell realized as she floated amid a rainbowsky of flashing lights, somehow Hera was managing to choreograph an array ofsystem failures with the sole purpose of making the machines around them sing.

That should have been more terrifying than it was. Mostly Maxwell just wanted to figure out away to hug an entire space station, because an entire space station beingsystematically broken and rebuilt in the span of microseconds that was possiblythe coolest gift she had ever been given.

When the last warning hum died down, and the bright lightswere flashing and twinkling like party poppers, Maxwell applauded.

“D-did you like it?”

“Hera, that was amazing. How did you even manage that?”

Hera was flustered, delightfully so. “Oh, you know. Practice. Which, um, sorry about that. Butit was really just like knocking over a line of dominoes. …Dominoes that you also need to make sure youprogram to immediately rebuild themselves after they get knocked over soeveryone doesn’t die a horrible, painful death.” Hera laughed uncertainly. “But everything was fine, so – yay.”

Maxwell was turning on the spot, mentally trying tocalculate how many different systems had played into that, how that many couldeven be altered or tricked in such a way. “There must have been a hundred different failsafes to work around topull that off.”

“Oh, believe me, there are and none of them are happy withme right now. But… I did it. I really didn’t think I could but, well, thenI figured who says I can’t. So I just,did.”

Maxwell had her face in her hands.

“Doctor Maxwell?”

Her shoulders shook.

“Alana?” called Hera, more alarmed. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have doneanything; Eiffel doesn’t like his birthday either, but I’d thought–”

Finally, Maxwell laughed. Deep, gasping laughs that were almost tears, probably were tears, butwere wrapped up enough in humour and joythat they could be safely ignored.

“I can’t believe you just completely kicked down everywarning sign built into your head that you could find. You just… stomped right over every stopperGoddard made because you wanted to. Because you thought it would make me happy. I can’t… I…” Her breathing steadied alittle, and suddenly the weight of it, the weight of twenty seconds and a sillychildish song hit her fully. “Thank you,Hera.”

“You’re welcome, Alana.” A beat, and then, as if thinking better of herself even as she said it,Hera said, “I understand why you wouldn’t like your birthday, and I definitelyget having memories you don’t want to think about, but someone really, reallywise told me that memories are what make us people. So I was thinking, maybe, we could make somenew memories? Together?”

Maxwell didn’t know what to say. Her mind whizzed with every reason this was abad idea. Birthday’s were inherentlyunreliable, so she filled them with reliability: numbers, math, work, a few ofthe constants in her life. Thetemptation to stick with what she knew, to avoid the thoughts, to avoidconfrontation was great. Sheoverthought, and she knew it. So shestopped, and said the only thing that she could possibly say.

“I imagine everyone can keep us from dropping into the starwithout me there to hold their hands for a few hours, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” said Hera, fondly. “But I’d be willing to test that hypothesisout.”

“Sounds like a date.”

#wolf 359 #herawell #hera #alana maxwell #fanfiction #bene speaks #anon #hopefully their voices worked alright #thanks for the prompt!#and if anyone else feels like dropping a prompt for something into my askbox feel free #i'm collecting them so i have inspiration to write over the holidays #though no promises about if or when i write 'em #it's all just for fun :P

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princebxte-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter 1 || Le début

в ι я т н

Shall we start from the beginning? Or from where the curse ended? Perhaps it is best if you might know the whole story, but please… I will never repeat it again. I wish not to constantly relive my past, only strive forward. I must warn you… I have large chips on my shoulders. My past is not to be taken lightly and you might find yourself a bit disgusted or triggered. If you wish not to be, then please skip the parts that are marked. Which you shall know what parts are marked. So to start things off… I shall speak of my parents. The house of Charlemagne. Ah yes. Not much I can say, for you know just as much about that as I do, minus the few words of what people have shared with me about them. My father is a Charlemagne of France that roots back to it’s early days, and my mother was from Roma Italy. They were an unusual pairing as far as personalities. Completely the opposite, but their union meant the betterment for France and Italy together. Forming a stronger alliance, and broadening the provinces.In public, their marriage displayed them side by and side, and they were loved across France as well as Italy. But beneath this shallow surface, these were two strangers. . . Of course with marriage comes an heir, a child… Unfortunately, my parents struggled in that area. They tried for years, only having been able to conceive one other. A girl. My sister, Emily. I never met her, for she died within the first few years of her life. Just when my parents were to give up trying for another heir, my father being fed up with my mother's nonsense blaming her for being sickly and poor on the inside. As well as the death of their first child, saying she had a poor womb, my mother made a deal with a mysterious friend. A stranger to all else, and who no one knows the true identity or whereabouts of-- who spared her special herbs that might make her more fertile. No one really knows what this deal consisted of, or what her payment was because such a stranger did not ask for money… After all, this was a generous friend... But from this I was conceived… Born. Prince Adam Christophe Francis Charlemagne of France. Born purely of enchantment. During this time, I was just an infant and the certain areas of France were starting to become restless with the government.. Heretics came out of the crowds to rile government, thus starting a war with their own government. There was a lot of blood shed, and my dear parents were dragged right into it. The heretics were trying to get the people to realize that royals were not proper for leading countries. Though, my parents did nothing to bring on such hostility and such hate—they managed to become victims of this brutal world, where a word could start fires. Thus the heretics managed to convince people of my parents being these awful monarchs who did nothing but eat and use the people’s taxes for their own personal use. Though my parents were not like other monarchs, not at all. This however did not change the minds of the angry, bitter people. Using my family as an example, they took my parents in a angry mob at their castle. Where a similar instance would unravel in the very same place…Later in my life… For different reasons. My father of course blamed my mother for having poor abilities in the ways of managing estates, appeasing the people and in sex. And he would lock himself away day in day out to work, or go on trips just to avoid her. It is said my father had mistresses, which may apparently so have beared sharers to my bloodline, but of course bastards are not welcome to my father. One must be of pure blood--- One might say he is a tormented soul with all of the complexes that he carries, but I hold no sympathy for the things he did to me. Knowingly. However, beaucause of the state of politics people were angry and bitter. My father's evergrowing dread toward my mother paralleling that of the tension in the system. The people then attempted to poison my parents, in hopes that another ruler—far more capable of leading could take their place ( someone who was not me, either) Those who knew of my existence attempted to take me too— but my parents were able to save me. No. Not parents. My mother. She created memories for me. Warm, affectionate memories—where I would cherish how close we were. And the day she died. A mother’s intuition, is what some might called it, I think she knew she was going to pass. I do not know why my father did not have anyone test her meal for her, that night. I have an inkling, but cannot prove it. But perhaps he noticed my relationship with her, and knew he needed to act fast in order to influence me, while being so young. right to do so. I would have been a weak leader. Alas, at her death bed, I could not stay long enough to watch her take her last breath… He sent me away And... For next 10 years of my childhood I had completely forgotten my mother. --- As a young lad, I grew up reading… Keeping to myself. A child with an imagination as broad as the ocean’s horizon, but a personality as shy as the clouds. My hunger for knowing things was limitless, and without any siblings or real playmates I kept to myself. This began to account for my poor socializing abilities. It was then encouraged that I be sent away to a school. I remember Potts telling me specifically what would be happening to me, and I—becoming upset with having to go somewhere else where there would be many other boys my age, and teachers to help me learn new things. It all sounded wonderful and exciting… But when she told me I was to live there for a number of years, I felt sick. How could I be away from home? From the mountains? Our castle in Monaco off the shore by the ocean? That long? This is my home! But a child barely has a voice or opinion on their future, especially one with such a large amount of pressure on their shoulders. For my parents had no other to fill their seats at the throne. My servants… In other words, my family… All watched me disappear in the carriage down the dusty path that concealed me as I began to start the next chapter of my life. Motherless-- and fatherless. When I showed up to boarding school, it was in my best interest to keep the secret that was me. No one was to know I was the future prince of Strasbourg. Not one soul. It was for safety measures, in case anyone at this school might be affiliated with the earlier heretics who wanted me dead just like my parents.

υ n т r υ ѕ т e d

***************тrιgger warnιng***************

[ Section contains mild notes of child rape/molestation]

So I started my life there at the boarding school, where priests taught us just about everything.

Because I was so shy, I had some problems with the other boys. They didn’t like that I kept to myself, considered it to be snobbish of me… Even though, it was more so because I was not interested.

After getting beaten up a few times, a man showed up to my rescue. Another instructor. He was young and quick witted. Eyes bright and full.

He was kind… Gentle… His smile contained nothing but honest intentions and he was my mentor. Quickly this man became so close with me, I thought of him like a father or an older brother and would do just about anything for him.

Anything.

After about a year of having confided in this teacher of mine, he learned my secret of being the prince of France, which immediately took a turn.

Things started to change…

Shift.

I was delving deeper into subjects like piano and violin… Sailing—Geography… And he began to get irritable with me.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing that was so wrong, but quickly things began to escalate. I was starting to fear him, and for the first time in my life… An adult struck me.

I was afraid to show up to my dorm, for I knew he was there. He would drill me with other subjects outside of courses I took. His mentorship became so incredibly strict… I started crying myself to sleep at the bruises he’d leave on me when getting things wrong.

I hid from the rest of the world. Masked my emotions, and did my best not to cry… For a prince that cries is not worth being a prince, or a person. Either I was a prince and I acted as such, or I am not anything.

This was his way of teaching me, and I learned quickly what I was to become. This was serious, and maybe this man was teaching me something valuable… I was becoming brain washed, day after day. That this was okay.

A child needed a bit of discipline. Even if It mean that I buttoned my shirt a bit higher to hide the marks… Brush my hair over a certain part of my face to cover the discoloration.

I masked myself to the point of being nonchalant.

I was going to be the perfect nobleman the world has ever seen.

Thrusted into this cookie-cutter of a life. I had no chance at a normal childhood, and learning of my lineage made me realize this. That is… Till one night, when I snapped.

I tried hiding my love for geography, for music. Really.

I did not want this man to touch that part of me. To learn of my love for things. A prince does not love.

But a boy does…

When I came back from a rehearsal that went just a little too late, I knew I was in for it. Walking into my room, it was dark.

Maybe he didn’t come? It was a bit of a relief to think maybe for one night he’d give it a rest.

But no… A drunk man … Pulled me to my bed… It was him, and before I could protest- I was choked and told to keep quiet.

I smelt the alcohol on his breath.

This man was the devil.

My tears stained my pillow as I whimpered and cried.. Telling me in trembled whispers to stop.. But he continued. He continued until he was finished.

Am I a prince now?

Maybe this was a test of my tolerance for things, for horrible things. I did not know, nor did I want to say. He told me if I ever told anyone… He would make sure I would never become a prince, never go home… Ever.

I swallowed my tears, and when he found my music…. Oh

That was it.

I snapped.

Am I a prince now ?

I wasn’t in my body anymore. I was blocking out all that was being done.

Every night it seemed to get worse.

For months this man did such vile things to me. I could never bear to think anyone else-…

But never mind, that isn’t important.

I began to lose myself. Detach from my body, push my astrol form away from my body into a corner, and from there a voice was heard. Developed--- After this, strange things began to happen whenever I was alone. The mirrors spoke to me, I could hear whispers at night when asleep. I began to find comfort in them, when otherwise a young child such as myself might run in terror, but the only true terror was the man who claimed to be my tutor and did not stop the harassment or assaults he would consistently pursuit on me.

I learned that in order to appease this man, I had to be him. Act like him, behave like him—be the righteous prince. Callous and cruel-- the voice agreed as well, that in order for me to be safe. I had to put out a new persona. One that everyone would accept and expect--

Be like my father—As he, my mentor, would often put it.

The father that took me away from my mother at her death bed

The father that…. would snuff out all the life of the boy that was me. ... and I... would Block all of it till I could be free.

But I would not be free, I would not be myself … Not for a very long time.

***************/тrιgger warnιng***************

My mentor said that my father knew of what was being done, after I had threatened to break my silence one day… To me this meant that no one would ever care about the atrocities, not even my own blood. And because of this, my heart frozen. Like a stone cold statue in the winter. And when my father would visit on holiday, rather than have me move home, he confirmed that it was all true. To think such horrible things to appease the evil that was being done to me. After that year finished, my mentor convinced the board that I was ready to leave. To graduate. And it was then that I found out my father had been killed in a scuffle along the countryside. It was a relief, to be honest. A province needed their leader And that is when things became far more rigorous as far as my education went Thus, because of all the studying he made me do on the side… Hours of whippings, among other things. I was able to test out of specific courses due to all my independent study. I barely slept. I earned my degrees just before 17 and moved back home in time to take up the throne. When I returned from school. My servants were excited, but I was not I could no longer greet them with the same warmth I once had as child. For I was now a trained dog, who did all he was told to avoid being taken advantage of. To avoid his private "scoldings". The man never let me be a child. I was too young to have this kingdom under my control… Or rather his control.

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