#kiru's fics
Text
tua s3 incorrect quotes ft. y/n
Five: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck
================================================
Y/n, standing with their back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Ben.
Ben: How did you do that without turning around?
Y/n: ... To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.
================================================
Luther: Hey, Five? Can I get some dating advice?
Five: Just because I’m with Y/n doesn’t mean I know how I did it.
================================================
Y/n, in a high voice, holding barbie: hey ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!
Klaus, in a deep voice, holding ken: nonsense, barbie. you’re staying home and having my kids
Ben: what the fuck are you guys doing?
Y/n: playing systemic oppression
================================================
Five: Why are your tongues purple?
Y/n: We had slushies. I had a blue one.
Ben: I had a red one.
Diego: oh
Lila:
Diego: OH
Sloane: *giggling in the back*
Viktor: You drank each other's slushies?
================================================
Y/n: Anyone d-
Allison: Depressed?
Five: Drained?
Klaus: Dumb?
Ben: Disliked?
Y/n: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...
================================================
*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*
Marcus: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.
Everyone:
Y/n: ...I did. I broke it.
Marcus: No. No you didn't. Jayme?
Jayme: Don't look at me. Look at Alphonso.
Alphonso: What?! I didn't break it.
Jayme: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?
Alphonso: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.
Jayme: Suspicious.
Alphonso: No, it's not!
Fei: If it matters, probably not, but Sloane was the last one to use it.
Sloane: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Fei: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?
Sloane: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Fei!
Y/n: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Marcus.
Marcus: No! Who broke it!?
Everyone:
Fei: Marcus... Jayme's been awfully quiet.
Jayme: rEALLY?!
*Everyone starts arguing*
Marcus, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.
Marcus: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.
Marcus:
Marcus: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.
================================================
Note: Thought It was about time to bring incorrect quotes back to this blog-
Edit: I MOVED BLOGS!! THIS BLOG HAS BEEN CLOSED!! AND IS NOW AN ARCHIVE!! Follow me @jaesincorrectquotes
#the umbrella academy#tua s3#kiru's fics#ffnetsimagines#xreader#ft.y/n#the sparrow academy#hargreeves x reader#luther hargreeves x reader#diego hargreeves x reader#allison hargreeves x reader#klaus hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x reader#ben hargreeves x reader#viktor hargreeves x reader#marcus hargreeves x reader#sparrow!ben x reader#fei hargreeves x reader#alphonso hargreeves x reader#sloane hargreeves x reader#jayme hargreeves x reader#x reader#tua hcs#tua incorrect quotes#viral#for you 🔮#🔮for you
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
@khoc-week day 7 - wayfinder
The things that Kiru finds special would be considered mundane by others. Things like the stickers given to it by Yozora for decorating its crutches with, or the knives Larxene gave it for “stabbing anyone who looks at you weird”, or the tea Namine gave it as a gift. Small but meaningful things like that.
Kiru treasures the many friends and connections it’s made through its life. From Zexion helping smooth any jagged or damaged coding, to Luxord teaching it how to gamble, to Riku giving it the nickname of Kiru in the first place, each relationship is treasured.
Replica Model 13-B would say that it has a favorite nickname, though. While it takes a while, Yozora does eventually give a nickname to the replica -- Delca. Delca, of course, treasures this nickname, the same as it treasures its friendship with Yozora.
While Replica Model 13-B doesn’t have any specific world that it may settle down in, or any concrete defined family, it’s content with the places it’s been and the friends and family it’s built. Whether it be spending a night on Destiny Islands via a request from Riku, or staying with Zexion (and later, a recompleted Ienzo) in the rebuilt Radiant Garden, or even hopping the line between realities to spend some time in Quadratum with Yozora, at the end of the story, whenever that may be, Replica Model 13-B will have its own happy ending.
#rambles#khocweek2022#oc: replica model 13‑b#crushing stones verse#i will say that given the fic/au is still in its early stages a lot of stuff may change between now and whenever it's finished#but i do think that kiru will get its happy ending. i do think it will have treasured memories and relationships
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Couldn’t stop thinking about @kiruuuuu ‘s Disasticruits, then I ran into this old Draw the Squad meme and it was perfect. Jojo was the only one I was actually able to visualise properly (I love Gian but good lord he was a pain), but I’m pretty happy with it in the end :D
Not pictured; Ivanko following at a distance, so as to not be associated with these dummies
#r6s#recruits#help how do I draw facial hair#I was halfway done when I realised Gian looked PAINFULLY like a dad#and even though he's definitely the Dad Friend#he looked ridiculous so I changed it#Valenti is unintentionally Small#but I'm happy with Jojo#too bad Ivan didn't fit#God these idiots are gonna be the death of me#Kiru your fics give me life#my art#Fanart#rainbow six siege
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi kiru !! is it okay for me to request an arknights phantom fluff fic with operator!reader ?? your layout is so cute i love it
hi anon! it's totally fine, and im glad you like my layout!!💗💗
notes: gender-neutral reader. you and phantom become cat parents.
im still confused whether his real name is spelled "Lucian" or "Lucien", but i picked the latter because i am a #cn player and the global version has his name spelled as "Lucian" so i had thoughts ueueue
cw: none. pure cuteness.
As you and PHANTOM finally take the day off thanks to Doctor, you plan on asking him if he wants to go outside and take a fresh breather. This is an opportunity to take him on a date, since you rarely have time together.
What you didn't expect that he is fast to say "yes" to you, so you take this chance and get closer with him gradually.
It was a cute date that you and Phantom had. You guys got to have coffee together, watch a theatre play that is showing right now, and even buy matching stuff like rings! What you didn't know that Phantom is actually a romantic guy, since he usually doesn't show these types of actions unless he's with his beloved. And that thought hit you; what if he is also interested in you the same way you are interested in him? You can't help but blush.
Of course, Phantom knew about your feelings for him, and he is more than elated that you share a mutual understanding. I mean, why else would you ask him out, right? So, he took his chances of making moves. Paying stuff for you, being in his gentleman manner, and every endearing actions you could think off whenever you are with him.
What you didn't expect is what happened on the way you guys are going back to the headquarters. You noticed that there are some cats tailing you both. Tugging Phantom's sleeve, you face him. "Say, Lucien, what if we take care of these cute babies that keep following us?" you smile, looking at the cats in awe as you pick one up. It seems to like you very much!
Phantom gives a thought about it for a second. Having cat children is nice, isn't it? He just smiles softly at you, as he responds, "Why not, my muse? It seems that these little guys make you happy." Satisfied with his reply, you just grin at him as you include him in your cat hug. "I guess you are now their dad." The feline leaves a satisfied hum, as he adds, "Well, try not to make Ms. Christine jealous, alright dear?"
#kiru writes#arknights#明日方舟#arknights x reader#arknights phantom#arknights lucien#arknights phantom x reader#phantom x reader#arknights imagines#lucien x reader#i am in love with this man and it shows#fluff#arknights fluff#gn reader#gender neutral reader
74 notes
·
View notes
Note
📚
📚
Thank you Nonnie for giving me the chance to go off unashamedly! The current fic I'm daydreaming about without managing to write is very niche, so apologies for that.
But! The Silmarillion/Goblin Emperor crossover where elves are descendents of Men with elvish ancestry, Goblins are goblin/men descendents, and Maia Drazhar ends up inheriting the oldest Athmaza as one of his nohecherai, a very tall musician who is sort of technically 100% in custody in the Mazan’theileian and is only brought out to serve the emperor because Kiru had a vision and retiring to become Archprelate of Csaivo the goddess.
(Csaivo is Varda. It's absolutely Varda sending a message to her devotee that it's time for the Kinslayer she's marked to make a final oath. And also so Kiru can catch a break).
This is the product of crossover brain disease, but also! Maia's deep kindness and deep trauma, history of captivity, ability to create community caution about how he wields his power meeting Maglor's entrenched remorse and whole. Everything. Obsessive grief. Would be very interesting.
It's about devotion it's about the Oath of the Nohecherai ending in suicide when the emperor dies, so this is it, the only grace Maglor is getting after long long captivity - fifty years of protecting Edrehasivar the Bridge Builder, and then death. That's it baby! And it's got to count. You have to mean it. Maglor made an Oath, Ages ago, and did evil for it, and broke it at the last. How is he to know if he should keep this one? Dazhis broke. He could too. Loyalty, devotion, obedience, faith - it is a choice. No one is except from If this is a test, it is one he has to judge himself on.
And Maglor is a very good performer, but he's very old, and very alone, the oldest and most alone thing alive, and he is all our of conviction, has not trusted himself in a very long time - how is he supposed to be something for a liegelord to trust? How is he to believe there's anything worth being loyal to, if he's done so much evil for it? And if there is, how can he possibly be worthy of working for it?
It's about Beshelar's immense integrity judging him and Cala's kindness and power being terrifying and easy to resent, and Csevet - honestly? If the Noldor had had a Csevet, Morgoth would have been toast.
It's about Csethiro! Who would 10/10 demand an ancient war criminal teach her ancient swordfighting forms and bully him into sitting at enough scholarly meetings - just to stand there, keeping guard, around people speaking of what nourishes the mind and the heart, mathematics and poetry and chemistry, a balm against the alienation of loneliness.
It's about Maia, of course. Who loves easily, and trusts very little, and has the Drazhadeise eyes, the Númenorian eyes, Elros' eyes, and see the world in a way no one ever has. Maia - who never thinks cruelty is just, and gives everyone a chance. Whose power is not in the war he wages but the injustices he stops, and how little liberty he has ever had and will ever have; how much of himself he gives, and how he makes others give of themselves without needing great enchanting speeches. It’s about pity that saves those who give and those who receive it, and kindness, which is a different dignifying thing. It’s about someone being given a chance, a lost one, undeserved, and doing good with it, choosing it again and again, with conviction even. And love grows, and the emperor lives, and the nohecherai die with him. And all the dead are remembered, and the songs are good ones.
It's also about how much Maia loves music and how little contact he's had with it. He deserves to have his personal Minstrel, as a treat!
Again, very niche. But I think it could have something in it!
#asks#ask game#the goblin emperor#the silmarillion#thanks nonnie! it's good to have put it in writing! <3#maglor
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Did I read a goblin emperor fic in which there’s some kind of annual pun competition/tradition with a complicated scoring system among the maza? Cala gleefully participates and competes with Kiru, who is only egging him on to see how disgusted Beshelar can sound when confronted with a truly atrocious pun. Maia is thrilled, and Csevet offers his own witty contributions. Did I read this, or did I just think about writing it??
#the goblin emperor#cala athmaza#deret beshelar#maia drazhar#kiru athmaza#csevet aisava#the great maza pun war
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
I really hope you make more Recruitverse fics one day, because it's honestly a CRIME to leave it on "and that 'we', once again, doesn't Include Jojo." like KIRU PLEASE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS
WELL, @noivoom, you are absolutely correct that I cannot leave my five idiots there! Your ask(s) were actually a large reason why I wrote some more recruitverse a while ago and now I'm finally getting around to posting it 😊 I hope you enjoy it 💝
It's from Shay's POV and also part of my ongoing advent calendar - this is day 5 ❄ (Rating T, chaos as usual with some emotional hurt, ~7.3k words)
.
The message comes out of absolutely nowhere.
Well, kind of. They have been exchanging texts all day, so receiving another one is hardly out of the ordinary, but it’s the content that catches Shay unaware: btw my flatmates are both gone tonite wanna come over?
And oh boy, does he ever. There’s no need for a saucy wink or an aubergine emoji, the intention is a flashing neon sign Shay plans to heed. Admittedly, Jojo’s coaching sensitised him to the topic and the simple rhyme of ‘home alone, she wants to bone’ stuck in his head so well he found himself scribbling it down in his notes absent-mindedly, earning him a stern talking-to by Thatcher of all people (and that’s a conversation he never wants to have again, ta very much), but all this doesn’t matter because it’s finally going to happen. They’re gonna do it. He’s going to get with a girl he really likes.
“I can’t believe it”, Valenti speaks up from the other corner of the locker room. Shay’s mind is so filled with everything Brittany-related that he instantly assumes everyone must be sharing his excitement and blurts out a thrilled: “I know, isn’t it amazing?!”
Three aghast faces turn in his direction, while Gian’s eyes are glued to the floor. They don’t look like they’re talking about Brit at all, oddly enough.
“Shay, shut up”, hisses Jojo – which, fine, he’s been holding a grudge over something Shay must’ve done a while ago as he genuinely can’t remember what it is, so his dismissive attitude comes as no surprise, but Ivan merely shaking his head in disapproval clues him in. Something bad has happened.
Hopefully not so bad that it cockblocks him. He quickly taps an enthusiastic reply before joining the others with an appropriately grim expression. “Can we do anything about it?”, he wants to know, because he’s first and foremost interested in a solution. A solution means he can leave early, and leaving early means he’ll get to see Brit sooner, and seeing her sooner means -
“You don’t know what is problem”, Ivan states, and of course he’s right.
The only one who takes pity on him is Gian, even paler than usual: “Through a series of unfortunate events, Jagriwo came into possession of my notebook.”
“Who?”
“You’ve really lived under a fucking rock this past month, haven’t you”, Jojo snipes at him again with more vitriol than Shay is used to, “I’ve been barred from saying ‘Jacob Griffin-Worthington’ all the time, so we’re calling him Jagriwo now. A name just as unintelligible as the asshole himself.”
“Ah, alright”, Shay nods, since it makes perfect sense, and only then does it hit him with the full force of a lorry: their self-declared nemesis somehow stole the very book holding all of Gian’s most intimate thoughts – or so Shay assumes. He’s never actually read a single line from it as he supposes it’s like a diary, personal and private. Valenti once reported accidentally skimming over a page and not understanding a thing, so it might be written in code, who knows. In any case, this is bad news. “This is bad news”, he states for everyone else’s benefit.
“We’re past the stage of shock and impotent rage already”, Valenti waves him aside, “it’s time for a plan. How do we get it back? Ideally before the prick reads it?”
“It is possible he remains unaware of the confused bags”, Gian replies with vague hope, “he and I carry the same make. Has he not yet unpacked his, we might -”
Just then, an eerie sing-song reaches their ears in the distance, uttered by an uncomfortably familiar voice: “Hey mo-rons! Come look what I ha-ave!”
They grimace in unison. There’s little better at uniting them than a common enemy, and the annoying wanker facilitates it immensely. “Guess that answers the question”, Valenti speaks what they all think. “Let’s go see what he wants.”
.
“Aren’t you guys a sight for sore eyes, thank you for turning up so obediently”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington drawls in an overdone posh accent, probably thinking it makes him sound cool. Their two groups are opposite each other in the already cramped changing room now, Jacob’s posse having joined them after Jojo willingly communicated their location – there’s four other henchpeople flanking Jacob left and right, two of which Shay knows a little. He wonders whether Jacob chose to make four friends in total to match them, just in case they’d ever have a dramatic one-on-one fight involving personal vendettas and experts in the same field clashing against each other.
“As I understand, I have a little something you would like back”, their fellow recruit continues and waves the familiar object in front of him, the small leather-bound book they’ve all seen a million times whenever Gian jotted down random thoughts or the events of the day or possibly tomorrow’s weather. It remains a mystery to Shay. “And I’m very interested in hearing what you’re willing to offer me in return.”
“So you’re blackmailing us”, Valenti summarises succinctly.
“Let’s not put it in those terms, this is merely a friendly … exchange, I would say, after all -”
“Are you doing this because you’re jealous that we’re actual friends?”, Shay blurts out and experiences a satisfying touch of vindication when their collective nemesis falters.
“Uh, no, I’m just -” And before he can regain his composure, Ivan Ivanovic has stepped forward and snatched the notebook out of his hand.
The ten of them stare at each other for a long moment. Ivan hands the book to Gian, who immediately shoves it into his pocket. Jojo performs a very rude gesture with both hands, reciprocating Shay’s grin once he notices it.
“Don’t think I didn’t take any photos!”, Jacob threatens with the pathos of a small child.
“Break his phone, too, Ivanko.”
“I do not like to destroy private property.”
“Oh, since when do you Reds care about that?”
Jagriwo’s comment earns him a dark look. “I do not extend same courtesy to noses.”
“What do you even want?”, Gian tries to move the conversation along. “What do we possess that you desire?”
This time, the others shift and exchange quick glances, the lone girl speaking up in Jacob’s stead: “You got into South Carolina. We want it.”
Oh.
Yeah, fair enough, Shay gets it – there’s a limited amount of spaces for the special training course in SC and Thatcher asked them to apply for it in groups, which explains why Jacob suddenly surrounded himself with these cronies to form a team of five. Until just now, they didn’t even know their nemesis wasn’t selected. No wonder his mood is this rotten. “You can have it, honestly”, Shay replies easily, shrugging; he’s not keen on the camp anyway, it sounds like way too much work.
Instantly, Valenti fixes him with a disbelieving stare. “No he can’t!”
“Didn’t you say it was a kindergarten trip for dummies who haven’t passed Rainbow boot camp yet?”
“But that was before I knew they didn’t get in!”
“I’ll gladly give up our spot”, Jojo agrees. “If they wanna crawl around in the mud for three weeks, let them.”
“They don’t even deserve it. If they weren’t chosen, they shouldn’t go.”
“Excuse me?!”, Jagriwo interjects, incensed, “You guys have been licking Thatcher’s and Sledge’s boots, which is the only reason you got accepted and we didn’t!”
“Allow me to correct”, Gian joins in as well now, “we lost a wager and involuntarily tended to their every need as a result. It was far from an attempt to ingratiate ourselves.”
“We betted that Valenti could go week without arguing during training”, Ivan adds with a side glance towards the very same.
“Hey, I tried to let it go, but that simply wasn’t how boules is played, you don’t try to hit your opponent in the head with -”
“This is why we lost bet”, Ivan interrupts the angry Frenchman, indicating him in his entirety. Which only fuels his anger.
“You know, this isn’t the time, but let me educate you on the sports of my people. It’s a long-standing tradition and I’ve played it with my sisters on every single one of our -”
“Just take our spot and we’re even”, Jojo addresses the slightly lost-looking recruits opposite them and Shay is all for it – the faster they get this resolved, the earlier he can ditch everyone.
“They don’t deserve it!”
“Do we not?” Jacob is genuinely miffed now. “How about a competition, huh? We’ll figure out which group is better at their jobs, and the winner gets to go to SC. If you win, I’ll delete the photos. If we win, we’ll get to do what we want with Giovanni’s notebook. And trust me, I’ve found things in there some of you would prefer to remain secret.”
Oh no. He hit Valenti right in the competitiveness, there’s no way he’ll let this go. They exchange a few glances, the upset Frenchman predictably determined, Ivan curious and Gian fatalistic. That’s two in favour already, and Jojo suddenly seems to have changed his mind and doesn’t look willing to concede anything anymore either. Odd. Normally, Shay would be on his side and ready to fight these tossers in a heartbeat, but today…
“I’m kinda busy”, he mutters apologetically, sparking an outraged expression on at least two of his friends’ faces.
“This is our chance to outdo these self-important wankers!”, Valenti hisses.
“You know we can still hear you, right?”
“Fine. Let’s do competition”, Ivan agrees on their behalf and with that, their fate is sealed.
.
“This is all my fault”, Gian sighs into their midst as they’re huddled together for warmth next to the running track. Winter is in full swing and while they’re not blessed with any more snow, the icy temperatures make for a poor substitute.
“Doesn’t matter, we need to talk strategy now”, Valenti shoots back. “What do we know about them?”
They’ve decided on five disciplines embodying skills all operators are expected to excel in, though Jacob invented a few extra rules: the teams can choose each other’s champion and nobody can be picked twice. Shay very much suspects that each team is secretly relieved about that last rule as they both have a weakest link.
… though he’s not entirely sure which one is theirs. Ivan Ivanovic surpasses them in nearly everything, Valenti comes very very close, Jojo is a skilled shooter, fighter and amazing with electronics, and Gian is just a jack of all trades, really. So Shay can’t really pick who’s worst.
“I don’t even know who the fuck they are.” Jojo is eyeing their opponents critically. “I know Jagriwo, but the rest?”
“The thin bloke with the full beard is Whip”, Shay offers his limited knowledge. “We got accepted at the same time and he’s alright unless you’re up against him, then he’s scary. I wouldn’t go with him for this.”
“How about the Asian? She is tiny”, Ivan suggests to which Gian shakes his head emphatically.
“I have had the misfortune of sparring with her in the past and though her physique is not the most imposing, she makes up for it in ferocity. I would only wish her on my worst enemy.”
“Jagriwo is a beast and that one dude is way too tall”, Valenti decides, “so it’ll have to be the Spanish guy. What’s his name again?”
“Maradona.” Since Shay has loosely hung out with most of the other recruits, he remembers some names here and there. “He’s Spanish, called Diego and a football fanatic, they had to give him that nickname.”
“Maradona it is then.” They shrug, unsure of what to expect, and turn to their adversaries to announce their choice.
“Your funeral”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington grins. “We’ll nominate Rogers.”
“Looks like they haven’t seen me fight”, Shay comments as Gian sighs and prepares to actually throw hands for his diary – Shay fancies himself the worst hand-to-hand combatant in all of the SAS and wears that title with pride. It’s not easy to stand out in their organisation.
“Darling, everyone has seen you fight. Mostly because you make the weirdest noises when trying to punch someone, so you draw a lot of attention.”
Jojo and he exchange a quick smile that warms his heart despite the biting air invading their lungs. The whole situation has an absurd aura, he’s pretty sure Jagriwo cares about this way too much and will probably harp on about their defeat forever (in case they lose, which doesn’t seem that unlikely), but for the first time in months, if not years, Shay is too disconnected from their shenanigans to bring himself to get into it. His thoughts are with Brit as are his priorities, and so he hopes all this will be over soon.
That said, Gian and his opponent have only just entered the ring they drew in the half-frozen mud, getting into position. The first challenge is about strength as much as it is about technique: leave the ring or fall to the ground, you’re out. A clever grip could mean victory just like a hard shove would, and the champions are of similar build and height, granting no obvious advantage. Gian blocks the kick aimed at his thigh and is, in turn, hindered himself before the two circle each other, cheered on by their respective teams. When next they lock arms, Shay realises this could take a while.
“Did you forget to get rid of your venomous snake?”, Shay asks when he spots Dante’s head poking out of Gian’s sleeve, likely wondering what the fuss is about and being confronted with a close-up of Maradona’s face.
The Spaniard no doubt catches sight of the snake and lets out an unmanly shriek followed by a defensive jump backwards – right outside the assigned ring.
Total silence for a few seconds. Nobody seems sure how to react, Jagriwo’s expression is utterly dumbfounded and his team isn’t faring any better.
“Let’s get a move on then, lads.” And before anyone can even think about complaining, Shay turns and strides away. He’s got places to be.
.
“Alright. The second challenge is all about technology. We may use it every day, but do you actually understand the devices you’re using?” Jacob Griffin-Worthington is probably going for a tension-building game show host of some sort though it’s obvious he’s shaken up by Gian’s near-instant victory half an hour ago. His group is falling apart, the only woman not even listening to him anymore and instead texting incessantly, Maradona and Whip still arguing quietly in the background – only the Swiss recruit whose name still eludes Shay is reticent as always, staring them down with a scowl surpassing even Valenti’s on a bad day.
“Just tell us what to do”, sighs the very same, visibly done with Jagriwo’s theatrics.
“No time for a little pizazz, hm?”
“Not when you’re basically blackmailing us into this, no.”
“Whatever.” Like a professional bully, the Englishman ignores the accusations and sets a laptop onto the table between them. They’ve relocated to the canteen, accepting the risk of getting spotted – not that they’re doing anything illicit, but if they ran across Thatcher he’d surely find a way of making them do work regardless of what it is they’re currently up to. “This belongs to Blitz. Don’t ask how I got it, I have my ways.” He wiggles his eyebrows and absolutely nobody is impressed. Everyone knows Blitz forgets his stuff everywhere all the time. “Whoever is chosen as champion has to crack the password and access the laptop under Blitz’ own account.”
“Why would we need to know how to do that?”, Valenti complains, not noticing how Jagriwo’s brows rise at the indignation in his voice.
“Guess we’ve already found our champion.”
Shay is just happy he doesn’t have to do this or else he’d probably end up disappointing Jojo even more. There’s something going on with him, their interactions don’t come as natural as they used to and Shay is convinced it’s his own fault. Because he can’t imagine Jojo doing anything wrong.
“Who should we elect?”, Gian mutters after they’ve withdrawn into their private circle. He’s livelier now, owed most likely to the fact that he won his round. “Jagriwo himself seems too knowledgeable and besides, I presume his real weaknesses lie elsewhere. I can only assume Whip acquired his soubriquet from the idiom ‘sharp as a whip’, therefore I would rule him out also.”
“How about woman now? She might be physically gifted, but electronics?”
As if on cue, they all turn around to stare at the Asian-American who looks thoroughly done with the incessantly whining and gesticulating Maradona. She seemed to have made the mistake of advising him to drop the subject, which he took personally and is now chewing her ear off while she stares at her phone screen even more pointedly. When Whip nudges her, she glances up, realises her opponents are looking at her, and the slight panic in her expression gives her away.
“I’m in favour”, Jojo mutters. “If only to get her away from that annoying blabbermouth. Nobody deserves that.”
“We’re choosing her”, Valenti announces, to which the short woman grimaces. “Okay, so how do we do this?”
“You each get increments of half an hour during which you can do whatever you want with the laptop. If you don’t manage to get into it, it’ll be passed over to the other person. Only your time counts: whoever does it fastest by their own time wins.”
“Are we allowed to talk?”, Jojo wants to know innocently.
“Sure, whatever. You can go first if you want.”
Shay’s best friend nods at Valenti. “Go for it. I’ll talk you through it.” And before Jacob Griffin-Worthington can object, Jojo has already pulled up the instructions on his phone and started guiding Valenti on what to do.
Well. Looks like they have it covered. Gian and Ivanko seem intent on listening and learning, but Shay has no mental capacity for a proper lecture today, so he wanders a little until Whip joins him and the two of them catch up on what’s been happening in their lives recently. Idly, they watch as Maradona throws another tantrum about how what Jojo is doing is cheating while Jagriwo tries unsuccessfully to argue with Ivan Ivanovic that Maradona is right (and he might as well have started a discussion with a brick wall, there’s no reasoning with the Russian if he does not want to be reasoned with).
Eventually, the opposing champion takes a seat next to Shay and eyes him curiously. “What’s your name again?”
“I’m Shay, howya. What’s yours?”
“Anna.” She looks up briefly to frown in the direction of the very loud, very oblivious group of fellow recruits. “This whole thing is stupid, isn’t it.”
“Yep.” Shay catches a glimpse of the brightly-coloured screen in her hands and adds: “Oh, I have that game. Wanna play a round together?���
“Yeah, alright. Whip, wanna join?”
And so the three of them spend about twenty-six minutes peacefully murdering waves of zombies while Valenti nearly starts crying from the pressure. Shay would feel bad for him, but really, it’s his own fault. Ultimately.
“Think it’s my turn”, Anna sighs when her leader barks her name in disbelief, immediately berating her when she joins their bubble again about ‘consorting with the enemy’ and ‘failing to prepare’ as well as ‘sabotaging the only people who care about her’ or something similarly ludicrous, to which she simply replies: “Shut up. I got this.” And with that, she marches right out of the canteen. Leaving behind a dumbstruck Jagriwo, a still expressionless Swiss bloke and a furious Spaniard.
“She’s nice”, Shay comments, to which Whip nods.
“Yeah. No idea why she hangs around with us.”
Jojo and Valenti are still celebrating when Shay joins up with them again, both of them looking like they just ran a marathon. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done”, Valenti beams, “and I never wanna do it again. But Shay, did you see, I was like a hacker in the films, all focused and cool and -”
“Is she… coming back?”, Gian wonders quietly as Valenti continues bubbling over in excitement.
About five minutes later, Anna does indeed come back. She makes a beeline for the laptop, types something in, presses enter and presents a now unlocked laptop to everyone.
Suddenly, Valenti and Jojo look like they’re going to lose their minds.
“I asked Jäger”, she shrugs. “Told him Blitz forgot his password again and sent me to get it. No lie, the IT security in here stinks.”
For a moment, it seems like Jacob Griffin-Worthington is about to propose to her, until Ivanko decides to poke the bear again and asks: “Is that cheating?”
Maradona bitches the entire way to the shooting range and Shay admires him for his lung capacity.
.
The following challenge passes by quickly and rather uneventfully: sharpshooting is the required skill, so Shay advises them to pick Whip for this as he knows the Welshman is notoriously bad at it. Their adversaries choose Jojo, not that it matters much as the only one of their group who’s miles ahead would be Valenti while the rest is somewhere close in skill. And though Jojo wins, the two of them end up almost evenly matched, to Shay’s surprise. It might have something to do with the few sentences Jagriwo mutters at Jojo in a voice so low nobody else hears, but when Shay asks about it afterwards, his best friend assures him that it had nothing to do with his bad performance – he claims he was still exhausted from the mental exercise during the previous challenge.
Odd yet again, but Shay doesn’t pry. He does notice Jojo’s hands shaking, however, which happens when he’s under a lot of emotional stress. He wishes he knew what was going on so he could help in any way. The only thing he can do is compliment Jojo’s hair to which the German looks at him like he just sprouted an additional head.
Well. He tried.
.
As soon as it’s obvious where they’re headed, Valenti falls back and surrounds himself with his own group. “Obstacle course”, he speaks what they’re all thinking. “There’s no doubt they’ll pick you, Shay, they have no choice, Ivan holds the record among us recruits. That means if we win this next one, it’s three out of five for us – it’ll be over. Now, I happen to know that Jagriwo’s best time is worse than yours, Shay, so we have a real shot at ending it right here, right now.”
“Of course you would know everybody’s times”, Ivanko comments with a grin, letting out an uncharacteristic chuckle when Valenti jabs him in the side with an elbow. “Do not worry. Even if you do not win, Shay, I will.”
Despite his assurance, Valenti’s words resonate with Shay: he could actually put an end to this madness. That means visiting Brittany sooner, which means -
“Don’t listen to him, darling, you got this. Make me proud.” Jojo’s voice is strained and still he manages a slight smile which is even more motivation. Yeah, Shay will do his best. He’ll win this round and therefore the whole silly game, he’ll get to do the do with his girlfriend, and he’ll make his best friend proud. A win-win-win situation, his favourite.
It’s much too fast from there: as expected, Shay is chosen while they pick Jacob in turn, the two of them get changed and warm up and suddenly, they’re next to each other at the starting line, Shay’s heart pounding in his chest as he considers the consequences of failing. Despite not caring much about the overall contest, now it’s his own skills on the line which doesn’t leave him cold; he relishes competition, or else he never would’ve made it here. A healthy nervousness has taken hold of him, a heightened state of mind, he’s alert and keenly aware of his entire body the way he is when on a mission.
He’s ready.
“If you lose, I’ll tell you a secret”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington says out of the corner of his mouth, making Shay frown in confusion.
“I don’t wanna know any of your secrets”, he responds, and then someone yells GO and his body moves of its own accord, springing into action with practised ease. He can’t count the times he’s run this course, to various degrees of success: when he was brand new and still bouncing between groups in Rainbow, he remembers how daunting he found this exercise, shivering even at the mention of it. It’s brutal, a demanding mix of precision and pure speed, horizontal and vertical movement, arm- and legwork. Most of his muscles used to burn for days after an intensive training unit here, and now he could probably do it in his sleep.
He’s off to a head start, his long legs a big advantage on the early sprints as well as shorter jumps, but as soon as climbing starts being involved, Jagriwo makes up ground. Shay concentrates on his breathing, the placement of hands and feet, the icy air in his lungs. Vaguely, he can hear his teammates cheering him on, and though he pays next to no attention to it, he somehow notices Jojo’s voice missing in the chorus. Odd. But Shay doesn’t have the luxury of worrying about it.
By the half-point, he’s still ahead and plans to stay there, Jacob not too far behind but audibly struggling where Shay has good reserves to fall back on. The ground is an active obstacle, an unpredictable mixture of mud and frozen bits, making Shay regret a few times not cushioning a fall more. Regardless, he’s doing great and getting closer to the goal by the second, keeping his panting to a minimum, instead opting for a steady pace, and then he slips on an ice patch.
It’s a mean one, he can tell instantly, the moment his foot just whooshes out from under him instead of providing support he knows he’s well and truly fucked. He manages an undignified squawk somewhere on the way down and instinctively brings his arms up, but even they can’t stop his head from smacking right onto the frozen soil. The loss of balance feels like a drop out of a fourth floor window, only much faster, and so he’s much too disoriented to get up and try to keep running, instead opting to blearily stare at crystal-covered blades of grass right next to his nose and contemplate existence.
Looks like he won’t make Jojo proud after all. Especially not with this splitting headache.
There’s cheering going on somewhere, exacerbating the pounding in his temples, and he understands right away that Jagriwo made it, that he was beaten. Someone pats his back with more force than necessary.
“Can you get up?”
He blinks up at two Ivans and stretches out his hand, getting pulled up with next to no input from himself and swaying unsteadily while holding on to the Russian. “My head hurts”, he mumbles, trying to correct his blurry vision. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make it.”
“You were at record pace, too. You had chance to beat my time.” Ivan Ivanovic inspects him for a moment, eventually deciding that he’s fine, so Shay stops worrying. If he’d been bleeding badly or anything like it, Ivanko would tell him.
It’s only then that he realises Ivan is the only one who came to his aid: Jojo, Gian and Valenti seem to be talking insistently among each other, with Jojo looking pale and shaking his head a lot. This isn’t right. “Ivanko, what’s going on with Jojo?”
A small pause. The Russian pats his back again. “Better get changed. You will catch cold.”
Shay doesn’t think thicker clothes will help with the vague frost settling in his insides. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He’s not sure he wants to.
.
Though it’s getting late, the sun nonetheless shines down on their stupid little contest. By now, most of them are grumpy for various reasons, several pairs have formed and emit unintelligible grumbling as they complain about this or that, and despite Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s steadfast refusal to admit this whole thing was pretty pointless, even he seems to be losing the spring in his step. Regardless, he trudges on, leading them to the canal for some reason.
“Last challenge”, he proclaims loudly, ignoring a few passers-by giving them odd looks. “This is the one who decides the winner! It’s as gruelling as it is straightforward: submerge yourself up to your neck in the icy water. The one who stays in there the longest wins.”
Suddenly, Shay is extremely glad he was chosen for the obstacle course, even if he doesn’t appreciate the pulsing headache. Below them, the river seems deceptively pleasant, the water calm and clear – but it couldn’t be any warmer than just above 0°C. This is a daunting task for pretty much everyone.
“We don’t really have a choice who to pick”, Valenti shrugs, equally eager to be done as most of them are. “Go for it, Swiss dude.”
“My name is Köbi”, comes a quiet reply from the taciturn recruit, prompting Jojo of all people to reply: “Yeah well nobody can pronounce that.”
“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Jagriwo has noticed Ivan Ivanovic unzipping his jacket in preparation of the challenge. “It’s not your turn, mate, you’ve already gone. We choose – wait, who do we choose?”
His group exchanges confused glances until Whip speaks up: “He’s the only one left.”
Their leader turns away from their adversaries to hiss a very audible: “But then we lose. Ivan can’t be allowed to do this.”
“Try and stop me.” Ivanko keeps piling clothes onto a helpless Valenti as if all of this was just another Tuesday, unlacing his boots with practised ease.
It is now that Jagriwo seems to realise what everyone else has understood before they walked all the way to the river: he’s lost. With Ivan left as their last champion, there’s nothing he could throw his way that would tip the scales in his favour. Valenti’s triumphant grin from behind Ivanko’s folded-up trousers conveys as much.
“I, uh, wasn’t finished explaining the rules of this challenge”, he tries to delay the inevitable, floundering, “you also have to, um -”
“Let us go in.” Ivanko, clad only in his underwear, nods in the direction of the ladder leading from the promenade right into the water. Köbi seems hesitant but probably assumes Jagriwo’s wrath would be immeasurable if he chickened out now, so he quickly undresses as well and immediately starts shivering. This doesn’t bode well for him. Ivan Ivanovic even goes in first, opting to quickly glide into the icy river instead of dipping his toes, followed by his Swiss opponent.
Who curses heartily in what Shay can only assume to be a thick accent as soon as he touches the surface, and the cursing quickly morphs into barely-suppressed wails and moans. He sounds like he’ll start crying every second now.
Jacob Griffin-Worthington is livid.
“You don’t deserve this win!”, he rages. “You’re just a bunch of arse-kissing wankers who scrape by doing the absolute minimum.”
“What does that make you then?”, Jojo responds, words dripping with vitriol. “You lost to us. You don’t even belong in Rainbow.”
“And you do? I don’t know about the others, but I know how you got in. Did some favours to get your résumé looked at, didn’t you?”
Fucking hell. Shay frowns, notices his expression mirrored on both Whip’s and Anna’s faces (though he takes note of their silence), and asks: “Why are you such a sore loser?”
Gian’s muttered ‘this is hardly productive’ gets lost in Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s following fury. “You arseholes are really pissing me off! The only reason you won this is because you have one, one semi-competent fucker among you who keeps you afloat, the rest of you are worthless. You wanna know what your so-called friend wrote in his diary? You wanna hear some excerpts? Because I’ve got a small collection of quotes here, just stumbled over these, they’re everywhere.”
“Not really”, Valenti objects. “If he’d wanted us to hear them, he would’ve told us.”
Undeterred, Jagriwo pulls out his phone and begins reading off the screen. “Valenti, he calls you petty, ‘hindered by delusions of grandeur’, ‘desperate to belong’ – mate, he thinks you’re insufferable, that’s what I’m getting out of this.”
The author of the quotes looks pained, uncomfortable, avoiding their gazes. Shay has never seen Gian this ashamed, their gentle, thoughtful, caring Gian this distressed. He opens his mouth, likely to address the accusation, possibly explain himself, but Valenti is faster: “Well he’d be correct, wouldn’t he?”
Their nemesis blanks for a second. “Pardon?”
“I mean, I am those things. He’s not wrong. But I’d bet my life that’s not all he said about me. Right? You’re just picking things out of context and trying to upset us, it’s not gonna work.”
But instead of being defeated yet again, Jagriwo’s eyes move to a new target. And Shay suddenly pieces it all together.
Everything falls into place: their weird reaction when he implied that Gian’s diary being stolen wasn’t that big of a deal – everyone else seemed to know something he didn’t yet nobody clued him in. He wasn’t supposed to know, he realises belatedly. They all knew something he didn’t, which also explains why Jojo has been so withdrawn lately, why he kept talking with the others instead of Shay, why he suddenly wanted to win this competition so badly.
Jojo has some sort of secret involving Shay and absolutely everybody knows except for Shay himself. He assumes this is what Jacob meant when he offered to let him in on a secret at the beginning of the obstacle course. Gian had written about this hidden fact in his little book and Jagriwo is about to reveal it.
But what could it be? The only explanation Shay can fathom is him doing something unspeakable to Jojo, something unforgivable, something that would taint their friendship forever if he were aware of it. If he’d done something like that to Jojo, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, that much is true, he’d always feel like he’d owe him – and this, possibly, is the scenario they’ve worked to hard to avoid. Because it’d hang over the two of them like a sword of Damocles, no doubt.
And now that Shay knows this… is he ready to hear the truth?
“Don’t”, mutters Jojo, his voice a warning. His eyes are locked with Jagriwo’s.
“Or what?” He really savours the moment, ignoring all of Jojo’s body language (and he looks like a cornered animal, wild, hopeless) as he turns to Shay with a wide, shark-like smile. It feels like everyone’s holding their breath. Then he simply says: “Did you know your best friend wants to fuck you?”
The very first thought that enters Shay’s mind is one he remains convinced of for a solid second: that can’t be it. He believes it steadfastly until he turns his head and catches sight of the pure, unbridled horror on Jojo’s face, shame even more pronounced than on Gian’s a few moments earlier. No words are necessary, his expression shouts it louder than Jacob could – it’s true. It has to be, or else why would Jojo look like this, but… why is that such a big deal?
Jacob Griffin-Worthington is not satisfied yet. “He’s actually been in love with you for a while.”
Oh. Okay, well, that’s slightly different, yet Shay experiences nothing but all-encompassing relief: he didn’t do anything to Jojo. They’re still good. They can keep being friends, provided Jojo wants to, and, uh, well, this might be a problem, he realises much too late. Maybe Jojo doesn’t want to. Maybe he wants some space. And Shay has a girlfriend, he almost forgot about her, that’s complicating things even further, but -
All of a sudden, he notices everyone is staring at him. Everyone but the one who counts. “Right”, he says, still trying to process the consequences of this revelation, and then Jojo turns on his heel and walks away.
Gian is the one who stops him from following immediately, a steady hand on his arm and a slight shake of the head keeping him in place. “Allow him time to compose.”
Next to them, Valenti simply drops Ivanko’s clothes onto the promenade and tries to punch Jagriwo in the face, yet the lad saw it coming and blocked, and while a very one-sided fight breaks out (because of course, the others jump in to help Jacob) Shay only has eyes for the lone figure wandering by the canal, back turned and hands repeatedly coming up to probably wipe tears away, and all of this is wrong.
Being friends with Jojo has never been easy, he’d never call it an easy friendship like he would with someone like Whip maybe – it was never two mates hanging out, it was something more, and that something required effort. Shay had worked for Jojo’s friendship and still does his best to maintain it, he learnt how to apologise, how to compromise, how to listen. Jojo allowed him to grow by pointing out areas in which to improve, managed to do so without putting him on the spot and by taking him seriously. In return, he’d provided undying loyalty, an open ear with no judgement.
This isn’t something from which either of them can walk away. They need to work this out. And the longer his eyes are glued to the man he’s so incredibly lucky to know, the man walking much too close to the edge of the promenade, the one suddenly slipping on an icy patch and -
Shay’s fuck comes almost simultaneously to the large splash. He starts sprinting without wasting a single thought on it, clawing off his jacket mid-run, tossing his phone on it, dropping his shirt together with his wallet and keys, and next go the shoes (bloody hell the ground is frigid) – he doesn’t bother with the socks but the trousers need to go, and then he dives into what turns out to be much, much colder water than he’d anticipated.
He manages to keep his disbelieving gasp in until he’s breached the surface again, blinking against the cool air and trying to keep his body from locking up due to the shock. Next to him, Jojo lets out a litany of curses, half of which directed at him.
“- the fuck are you doing, you moron, there’s no fucking ladder, what did you think you’re gonna do?!”
Huh. The closest ladder is indeed a bit away and he’s already losing all feeling in his limbs. “I’m saving you”, he blurts out, stupidly, to which his best friend lets out an unamused-sounding laugh. Jesus fuck it’s cold, his feet are freezing and he’s having trouble staying above water.
“This”, Jojo pants, lips blue and eyes red, shivering just as violently as Shay is himself, “might be one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done, Shay, what did you think was going to happen? You give me a lift so I can climb the two metres back up?”
“We should probably move, we can’t get out here.”
“Oh really? I can’t swim, I can barely keep myself up, so what do you reckon -”
He’s interrupted by yet another splash next to them, icy water washing over them. The reproachful face appearing belongs to none other than Ivan Ivanovic, and Shay has never been gladder to see the Russian. “Hold on to me”, he tells them and they oblige without a single word of protest as he starts swimming to the nearest ladder, dragging two dead weights with him.
.
~*~
.
It’s only fitting that the day ends with them in front of Sledge’s office, as so many days prior. Shay, wrapped in a thick blanket and trying to will the frost out of his bones, listens to the muffled bollocking going on inside, and wonders whether they’ll get their share after the others are done. Köbi, Jojo and he were sent to Doc first while the rest of their groups had to explain to their superior what they’ve been up to all day, and now they don’t want to interrupt anything, so they’ve sat down on the bench outside. Except for Köbi, the winner of the last challenge, who was checked in with mild frostbite. There’s no doubt Ivanko would’ve won, but he came to Jojo’s and Shay’s rescue, opting to climb out and lose the challenge rather than wasting valuable seconds by swimming towards them instead of running.
So not only did Shay mess up his own contribution to the competition, he made them lose it all.
He barely dares to ask. “Jojo?”
“Hm?” His best friend has avoided any eye contact since their brief stint in the river, having chosen to treat Shay with nothing but silence. Now that they’re alone and perched next to each other, he seems more willing to exchange words though.
“I’m sorry we lost because of me. Did you actually want to win?”
This earns him an almost disgusted expression. “Of course not. Any minute I spend in Jagriwo’s presence is fucking wasted, he can fuck a cactus for all I care. His stupid little ego trip doesn’t matter.”
Oh. So he just really didn’t want Shay to find out. Find out… that he’s in love with him. The sentiment leaves him slightly giddy, as if someone Shay liked a lot told him that they like Shay back, only he can’t discern whether he feels flattered or confused or something else entirely. It’s a fluttery thing, similar to the beginning when he was flirting with Brittany (or trying to, at least) and couldn’t think about anything else.
Jojo fancies him. It’s… nice. It feels nice, knowing Jojo finds him attractive. That he likes him so much that he wants them to be more than friends.
And Shay -
He looks at Jojo who reminds him of a drowned rat, the usually styled hair wet and sticking to his skull, complexion blotchy, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Their shoulders are touching. Shay just can’t imagine a life without him.
“I’ll break up with Brittany”, he hears himself speak before the words have fully formed in his mind – as so often he does.
Jojo’s brows draw together. “What?”
“I can break up with her. It’s okay. Then we can -”
“Shay, what in the world are you saying?”
“I like you too.” Instantly, he’s self-conscious, scratching the back of his head, trying his hardest not to backpedal. “That’s… what I’m saying. I like you, Jojo. I’d rather be together with you.”
His best friend is staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide. “You’d just – you’d drop her. Right away. Right now.”
“Yeah. If you want.” Shay nods. He’s already cancelled for the evening, it’d be simple to end their relationship as well.
For a few heartbeats, Jojo doesn’t seem to know how to react and what he eventually does isn’t something Shay would’ve expected. He gets up, blanket still wrapped around him, and tells Shay: “Just don’t talk to me. Don’t.”
And once again, he leaves. Leaves Shay behind on the bench outside of Sledge’s office, wondering whether he’s done something wrong this time.
It’s not even a relief when Sledge shoos him away later instead of admonishing him, because Valenti won’t look at him and Gian carries himself like a close relative just died. Even Ivan Ivanovic just motions for him to walk.
Of everyone filing out of Sledge’s office, it’s only Anna who throws him a sympathetic glance.
#rainbow six siege#fanfic#kac#recruitverse#valenti#jojo#shay#gian#ivan#some new 'friends' as well!#whip needs to stay around until I can finally reveal why he's called that#has anyone noticed a trend with names yet
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
perhaps
...an alternate future.
lubbock x reader
~
[fandom: akame ga kill]
[tags; possessive reader, alternate timeline, established relationship, mild cursing]
[about; yeah, im posting this... excuse my non proficiency in writing x reader type of stuff... one of the things i wrote for the lovely @serowotonin for her bday, and now im throwing it out here. enjoy!]
[words: 584]
Laughter swirls up into the sky as you sit shoulder to shoulder with the green haired boy next to you. It’s a beautiful evening, the grounds of the mansion twinkling with bird calls. The capital stands as strong as it ever was, the full force of the empire behind it.
You turn to gaze at him, a smile on your lips.
Lubbock’s eyes are distant, fixed on the horizon. His bangs fall into his eyes and his expression is unusually thoughtful.
“Hey,” you nudge him. “What’re you thinking about?”
He turns and his eyes cloud over as they focus on you. He laughs again, but this time it sounds a bit broken. “Just... a different future.”
“A different one? Why would you ever want that?” you lean into him, giggling.
“No, it’s just that...” he shakes his head, his throat hitching. “Don’t you feel this world’s a bit messed up sometimes?”
You stare at him. “Are you kidding? What more could you want? You’re here, you’re happy...” You lower your voice conspiratorially. “You have me.”
“It’s not that,” he murmurs, so low that it’s hard to catch. As if sensing your disapproval, he looks down, words coming out in a stuttering flow now. “All this time... do you know what happens to the poor in this city?”
“Feeling benevolent, are we?” you grin quizzically.
“ No, they’re used...farmed like cattle, like cogs in a giant machine. It’s-” he shuts his eyes, breathes. “Evil, just plain evil. That’s what this government turns a blind eye to- and they, they just kill anyone who says any different. Slaughter them all. It’s just wrong,” he says. “Wrong,” he repeats vehemently, whipping around his head to look at you. “You think so, don’t you?”
You stare incredulously at him. You’ve rarely seen him be so spirited about anything like this, and you suddenly feel a surge of envy. “Who fucking put these thoughts in your head, Lubbo?” you scowl.
He smiles again, but this time it’s more painful to look at. “Have you heard of Najenda?”
You cock your head. “Najenda? Wasn’t she the leader of the terrorist outfit they dismantled a while back?”
“Dismantle? (y/n), I-” he bites his lip. “General Esdeath and her team of mercenaries massacred Night Raid. They beheaded Najenda, lopped all their heads off... propped them up on spikes in the middle of the city. How is that not just cruel?” Lubbock shakes his head, his face twisted in pained mirth. The expression doesn’t suit him, you think. You prefer the carefree Lubbock, not- not whatever this is.
“Yeah well,” you shrug. “Night Raid probably deserved it.”
Lubbock’s smile is sad as he says, “Would you have said the same thing if I’d joined it?”
You pause. “What? Joined it? Lubbo, what are you saying?”
“Crazy, I know.” he throws his head back, staring at the sky. “But perhaps I could’ve actually achieved something.”
“Th- that’s stupid,” you force out. “You would have died!”
“Maybe, yeah.” he exhales slowly. “Sometimes I think I could’ve made a difference... but yeah, you’re right. It’s stupid to think about.”
He hoists himself up to his feet. “I’m going to bed, yeah?”
You hear his footsteps walk away as you open your mouth again, your gaze fixated on the setting sun. “Lubbo?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you end up going? With Night Raid, I mean.”
You can’t see his face, but you hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Isn’t it obvious? Because of you.”
~*~
{thank you for reading!}
#akame ga kill#lubbock x reader#rabbac#lubbock#lubbo#akg x reader#akame ga kill x reader#night raid#esdeath#najenda#akame ga kill headcanons#crow.writes#akame ga kill fanfiction#akame ga kiru#akame ga kill fics#night raid x reader#x reader#anime#idfk how to tag forgive me
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
So as part of my rap battle series on AO3, “Amazing Rap Skirmishes of Fiction”, I’m planning on doing Weiss Schnee (RWBY) vs. Esdeath (Akame Ga Kill) soon. The theme is battle of the ice queens. I thought I’d post a little preview of what I have so far.
For Weiss:
The word “no” means “no”, no matter where you’re born
You forced Tatsumi to kiss you, who are you, Madison Cawthorn?
“Strong female character”, but all you want is a man
And you look like a Twitch thot who fans ask for feet pics on OnlyFans
For Esdeath:
Let’s do battle Mitsuru Kirijo, wait, that’s not your name
Sorry I got confused, because your characters are the same
I’m General Esdeath, say my name with your last breath
Putting this small-breasts, distressed, weak pest to rest!
#rwby#weiss schnee#akame ga kill#akame ga kiru#esdeath#rwby weiss#rap battles#preview#fic preview#rwby fanfiction#akame ga kill fanfiction
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
A short bit of indulgent Thatcher/Lesion (with implied Smoke/Mute), because I really love the idea of this pairing but there’s no content for it! Based on the day Thatcher, Lesion and Smoke spent in Macau partying after Operation Green Viper in canon. G, 948 words.
Liu catches Mike’s eye as he carefully moves the growing collection of glasses out of the reach of James’ flailing hands. His permanent smirk seems more sardonic than usual, but he knows better - there’s no judgement there, only whisky-tinged amusement.
“He’s just so...you know,” James says for the fourth time in a row, again without elaborating what he actually means. He’s still talking about Mark though, so Mike doesn’t really want to know. It seems to be something nice by the way James keeps cutting himself off with a wobbly smile. “God! He’s really...fuck--”
James slams his hand on the table for emphasis, making the glasses tinkle and startling a snort out of Liu. Even Mike can’t help his own fond expression - his protege is clearly besotted. Besotted, and maybe a little plastered. He’d leant a little too hard into the complimentary drinks at the casino they’d spent the afternoon tearing up, and though Mike had managed to pry him away before he either went flat broke or was cut off, suggesting drinks after dinner had set him off again.
He couldn’t grudge him that, though - they had pulled the mission off without a hitch and averted what could have been a new plague outbreak, so they’d earned a little bit of R&R. Plus he hadn’t done anything more outrageous than gush about he burgeoning crush on his own squadmate, which by Drunk James standards was positively tame.
“Have you told him yet?” Mike asks, leaning back in his seat to sip his drink. He doesn’t like the local beer but it’s something cold on a warm, humid night and that was good enough for him. James looks at him like he’s grown a second head.
“And why the fuck would I do that? I like my head on my fucking shoulders, thank you very fucking much. Have I told him yet…” James trails off. A moment’s consideration and his scoff turns thoughtful, “Why, has he said something?”
“He doesn’t have to,” Mikes says. He takes his phone out his pocket, slides it across the table towards James. “Look Jim, do yourself a favour: have a shower, have something to eat, and call him. He’ll pick up if he thinks its me.”
He feels like Liu wants to say something when James fumbles to pick up the phone and shakily excuses himself from the table. ‘Classy’, Mike thinks he hears him mutter as he leaves the terrace they’re sitting on, and he knows he’s still talking about Mark.
“Is Mark the--?” Liu makes a gesture he assumes means tall, which could be Seamus too but Mike nods anyway. “Huh. Odd couple, don’t you think?”
Mike considers it for a moment, his beer halfway to his mouth. He shrugs, sets it down again, “At a glance, I s’pose. The way I see it is James didn’t get nearly enough attention as a boy and he’ll do anything for a scrap of approval from his peers. He needs a steady hand to hold him down, stop him getting silly. On the other hand, Mark got more attention than he could handle and now he’s craving the control he never had. A bit of rough would do him good, get him to loosen up a bit. They could be perfect for each other if they don’t fuck it up.”
He isn’t sure that he should be telling anyone this, let alone a newcomer to Rainbow, but there’s something about the way Liu watches his mouth that makes him want to keep talking. He knows without a doubt nothing he says at the table will ever leave it. Besides, it’s nice to have someone his own age to talk to for a change.
“You seem to know your teammates...intimately,” Liu says, and Mike wonders if that’s an awkward translation or an innuendo. Either way, he shrugs again.
“They’re my boys, what kind of squad leader would I be if I didn’t know them well enough?” he says, “Besides, getting a read on people is a good talent to have in our line of work.”
Liu leans forward, his elbows on the table. He thumbs the lip of his glass, collecting the condensation as it beads. Another damn toothpick has appeared in his other hand seemingly from thin air. He takes his time catching it at the corner of his mouth, “Can you get a read on me?”
Mike presses his tongue to the back of his teeth. In his head, he runs through a checklist he could bet money on: ‘deep waters’ is the phrase that springs to mind first, calm on the surface to the point of facetiousness, but with hidden depth that could sink ships. Flexible, almost fluid, able to roll with any punch thrown with the sort of grubby acceptance that came from a lifetime of doing what you had to do to survive. Someone who would be endlessly forthcoming but never quite straightforward.
Someone who, for whatever reason, is almost certainly flirting with him.
“Not a chance. We haven’t spent enough time together,” Mike says. He tilts his beer in pretend contemplation, “...Unfortunately.”
Liu nearly laughs, but nearly is good enough for Mike because he knows it’s as close as he’ll ever get. His crows’ feet are charming when he smiles - genuinely smiles, not just the smirk - and he’s doomed to want more of that now he’s had it.
“A problem I look forward to remedying,” Liu says.
He offers up his glass to Mike who meets it with the neck of his bottle, a sharp clink of agreement, of congratulations on a job well done, and the promise of what’s still to come.
#rainbow six siege#r6s#lesion#thatcher#my fic#vaguely dedicated to kiru for poking me to write abt this pair more which im TRYING to do
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi can you do headcanons about dating klaus mikaelson?😚
alr- well my fave hybrid needs all the love so here ya go!
He worships you
Honestly
He does
He thought that after losing Cami, he would never find anyone again, but YOU proved him wrong
I think him falling in love with you would be like a love at first sight situation
And you falling for him would be a "i hate you, yet i want you but i dont know if i love you"
If i had to choose a trope it would either be strangers to lovers or friends to lovers
Couple aesthetic would be like a baddie dark academia one mixed together
jealousy, jealousy~
Your not that jealous...only in the extreme cases *ahem* caroline *ahem*
Klaus...? lets just say that person disappears in a snap..
Dates? Well it varied
Your human? You just chill at your home or have the cutest picnic at a park
Vampire? Blood spree..killing spree you know for blood
Your a wolf? Runs under the moonlight
A hybrid or a tribrid? Then y'all doing all of it
Overall..mans just want you to feel loved and appreciated and protected and...yeah
#klaus mikaelson hcs#klaus mikaelson x reader#the orignals x reader#the originals hcs#xreader#kiruaaamin#ffnetsimagines#kiru's fics#ffnetshcs#kiruhcs
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stubborn
Stubborn
by Willofhounds
Prompt: “Go back to bed before you collapse.”
Words: 604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Kiru's one shots, Part 29 of One shots, Part 53 of Complete fics
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen
Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Tsukauchi Naomasa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku
Additional Tags: Parental Tsukauchi Naomasa, Protective Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa Adopts Midoriya Izuku, Tsukauchi Naomasa is a Good Friend, Tsukauchi Naomasa is So Done, Adoptive Parent Tsukauchi Naomasa, Poor Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa Needs a Break, Tired Tsukauchi Naomasa, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Vigilantism, Sick Character, Sick Midoriya Izuku
Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32532397
#AO3 Feed#FanFiction#AO3 Dadzawa#♢#Aizawa Shouta#Izuku Midoriya#Naomasa Tsukauchi#R:G#A:Willofhounds#Vigilante AU#Sick Fic
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
@khoc-week Day 1 - Appearance
These are a bunch of concept scribbles for my newest OC, Replica Model 13-B, nicknamed Kiru! (The first image is a comparison I drew between Kiru and @beastenraged 's OC Ruse, since they both are Replicas of Riku)
Replica Model 13-B is one of the replicas Vexen made, though it isn't as faithful a copy of Riku as the canonical Riku Replica; it uses it/its pronouns, and doesn't care too much for itself, viewing itself as an object to be experimented on since, to the best of its knowledge, that it what it was originally created for. The bioluminescent markings on its cheeks are natural, but the other bioluminescent markings were added later. It also received an increased jaw strength, as well as Spotted Hyena teeth.
A particular fight damaged Kiru's right hip, leaving deep scarring and weakening the muscles and joints. Kiru has chronic pain as a result of this wound that never quite healed right, and since the leg can't really bear any weight, Kiru uses forearm crutches from that point onwards.
Kiru's default expression seems to be a confused half-smile; it suffers from frequent memory loss and struggle to remember things that aren't repeated to it, and it's teeth being based on a hyena's dental pattern rather than a human's means that its teeth don't actually entirely fit in its mouth. Regardless of this, Kiru manages to remain generally upbeat and excited, though it has a tendency to say mean things when upset or in pain (which is often).
Kiru's appearance shown in this post is mostly concept art, as I'm currently writing it in a fic of mine, and I don't know how much the end result will differ from this art; however, rest assured that the key features -- bioluminescent markings, hyena teeth, crutches -- will remain.
Random bit of trivia: Replica Model 13-B's blood oxygen carrier is hemerythrin; due to this, its blood is clear when deoxygenated, and a magenta color when oxygenated. (In other words: imagine Danganronpa blood.)
#rambles#khocweek2022#oc: replica model 13‑b#kingdom hearts#as you can guess kiru gets a nickname bc its actual name is a mouthful#shoutout to en for encouraging me to make kiru in the first place#the rest of the week will prolly be more in the form of little ficlets bc making art is really tiring lmao#scribbles#the art that never was#crushing stones verse
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gone
Gone
by Willofhounds
Prompt: “Calm down! You're scaring me!”
Words: 1139, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Kiru's one shots, Part 31 of One shots, Part 55 of Complete fics
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen
Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Tsukauchi Naomasa
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi
Additional Tags: Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Tsukauchi Naomasa, Protective Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa is a Good Friend, Poor Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa Needs a Break, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Training Shinsou Hitoshi, Mentor Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Vigilantism, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Midoriya Izuku, General Education Department Midoriya Izuku, General Education Department Shinsou Hitoshi, no happy ending, Thus author does not believe in happy endings, Not Happy
Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32610466
#AO3 Feed#FanFiction#AO3 Izuku#♠#Izuku Midoriya#Hitoshi Shinsou#Aizawa Shouta#Naomasa Tsukauchi#R:T#W:D#A:Willofhounds#Vigilante AU#Dadzawa
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gone
Gone
by Willofhounds
Prompt: “Calm down! You're scaring me!”
Words: 1139, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Kiru's one shots, Part 31 of One shots, Part 55 of Complete fics
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen
Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Tsukauchi Naomasa
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi
Additional Tags: Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Tsukauchi Naomasa, Protective Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa is a Good Friend, Poor Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa Needs a Break, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Training Shinsou Hitoshi, Mentor Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Vigilantism, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Midoriya Izuku, General Education Department Midoriya Izuku, General Education Department Shinsou Hitoshi, no happy ending, Thus author does not believe in happy endings, Not Happy
Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32610466
#AO3 Feed#FanFiction#AO3 Shinsou#♠#Hitoshi Shinsou#Izuku Midoriya#Naomasa Tsukauchi#Aizawa Shouta#R:T#W:D#A:Willofhounds#Vigilante AU#Dadzawa
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Haunted
Finally finished that first meeting fic I had promised a while back! Takes place a few days before Night Watches, but references a couple things that were addressed in slightly more detail in that fic. Sirius is about 8 here and has been on the streets for maybe six months. Eska is 7 and has only been on his own in the city for maybe a month.
******************************
“Go on, quit stalling!”
Two hands pressed against Sirius’ shoulders, nudging him forward.
He pulled away, shaking them off in irritation. “I’m not!”
He absolutely was.
Everyone knew the abandoned workhouse at the edge of the Shallows was haunted. The burned out shell towered over the three children, its empty windows gaping at Sirius like so many toothless mouths.
“I heard old Tamris say she heard screams coming from it for the past fortnight!” The girl behind him had dark skin and curling hair that had been unevenly cropped to stay out of her face. Her eyes were bright with delighted apprehension. “She said a demon lives in there.”
“A boy I know was working corners one street over,” added the other child, a pale, spindly limbed boy slightly older than the other two, “And he heard crying coming from inside it the other night.”
Sirius shivered.
An old hand on his father’s boat used to tell stories about a creature that had a cry like a child weeping. It lured its victims to the water’s edge and drowned them.
A blow caught Sirius on the back of his shoulder, propelling him roughly forward. He stumbled; lack of sleep had made him clumsy and he hit his knees, skinning the heels of his hands on the hard packed dirt. He scrambled up, face burning.
The older boy smirked, arms crossed smugly across his chest.
“Scared?” he taunted and Sirius stiffened.
“No.”
He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to not feel afraid. But he couldn’t let them see that.
That was the test: spend the night in the ruins of the workhouse and Kiru would let him join the comparative safety of their gang. Let his nerve fail and he was on his own again.
“And don’t even think about trying cheat,” crowed the choppy haired girl,. “We’ll be watching, we’ll know if you try to sneak out before morning.”
Sirius turned back to the ruin, shoulders hunching slightly despite his efforts to hold himself straight. Fallen debris kept the door wedged shut, but the boards that had once covered the windows had almost all been scavenged for fuel over the years, leaving them open, and he began to move towards the nearest one. It’s opening seemed larger than it had a moment ago, likes lips drawn back in a snarl, and the darkness inside it seemed to go on forever. Sirius felt his stomach knot.
“Half my ration says he doesn’t make it three hours,” said the girl.
There was a snort from the other child. “He’ll never last three hours.”
He hated this. Hated them. Hated his own weakness and exhaustion that made this a necessity. He shouldn’t have needed them. He shouldn’t have needed anyone. He was old enough to take care of himself. Everyone had said so. He wasn’t a child. He should have been enough.
But he wasn’t. Not all those times he had begged to be taken along on the ship. Not when his father was sick. Not when Kato’s men came for the house. Not when Zaya and Kastor disappeared. And not now.
Squaring his shoulders he took a final step closer, forcing his flinching hands to touch the splintered, weather-worn sill. It was just a window, he told himself. Just an old house.
He rocked forward on his toes, rested his elbows on the frame and hauled himself up, squirming his way over sill.
He landed clumsily, tumbling onto the dusty, debris strewn floor and the clatter sent a shiver running through the building. Sirius froze, still sprawled on the ground, staring wide-eyed into the dark. But nothing happened. The floor did not open and swallow him, the walls did not come alive; the house did not react to the intrusion; even the shadows themselves were still.
With painstaking, careful movements he got to his feet. The darkness inside was not as impenetrable as it had seemed when standing in the fading light of the alley, but there was a heaviness to it, as if he was moving through water. From the gloom overhead broken joists and floorboards bent at precarious angles, like splintered, rotting teeth. It was a humid summer evening and each draft of air felt like hot, damp breath against his face. He shuddered, trying to push the thought away, but sensation lingered like oil on his skin.
Outside he could hear the voices of the two other children, but they seemed strangely muffled and distant and he had the horrifying thought that if he looked back through the window he would not see the alley at all.
Part of him wanted to crouch where he was, pressed against the wall below the window where he could still hear voices and catch glimpses of the outside through the gaps in the boards. But the idea of spending an entire night beneath that gaping mouth full of teeth was more than he could bear.
It would be full dark soon, if he was going to find another hiding place to spend the night, he needed to do it now. He recalled having seen the house from the opposite side where a large section of the roof had fallen in. It would still be dark, but it would be the darkness of the night sky, not the sightless suffocation of a closed space. Boards creaked underfoot as he took a hesitant step deeper into the room and he cringed.
There was a door in the opposite wall, half filled with collapsed debris, but there was space enough for him to squeeze through if he crawled on his hands and knees. This was foolish, a rational part of his mind protested, it was dangerous, the house was falling in on itself, it wasn’t safe to go deeper. But he wasn’t thinking rationally. He was scared and exhausted and there were things that he saw -- he swore he saw them -- out of the corners of his eyes that vanished the moment he turned to look. He wasn’t afraid of physical harm, of being crushed or trapped -- he should have been, he knew he should have been, but he wasn’t. He was afraid of something he couldn’t name, of the dark, of being swallowed into nothingness like Zaya and Kastor.
He squirmed between the fallen joists that blocked the doorway. Dim, evening light filtered through gaps in the low ceiling above. Sirius peered cautiously around the room as he rose. Twisted, half fallen timbers and piles of rubble turned monstrous and distorted in the gloom, their shadows creeping and shifting in his periphery, belying the evidence of his eyes.
It took all his courage to step out onto the open floor, moving in a low crouch, head snapping around as his eyes darted from one tangled mass of shadow to the other and back and back again, as though a direct gaze might freeze them in place. He reached the staircase that sagged against the leftmost wall, the fading light from the collapsed roof above dusting the treads. Panic prickled down the back of his neck as he started to climb, darting a glance behind him to be sure nothing had moved.
Several of the steps had broken or been eaten through with fire and he had to climb awkwardly to reach the second floor. Overhead a few skeletal rafters sagged in the empty air, but beyond them he could see the sky, patchy with clouds and darkening towards indigo.
It felt like surfacing out of deep, dark water. The sky filled his vision as he stepped from the stairs onto the floor, his instinctual caution momentarily forgotten so fixated was he on the imagined safety of the open air above.
An inhuman shriek erupted from the darkness behind him and Sirius whirled round, terror flooding his body as a shadow peeled itself away from the wall and lunged towards him. He screamed and scrambled backwards, stumbling over a fallen beam and then, with a crash of timbers, he was falling.
He landed in a heap on the floor below, pain bursting across his shoulder and down his arm as something hard edged and heavy landed on top of him. Dust filled his mouth and throat, choking off his scream in a fit of coughing as he struggled out from under the fallen boards. Panic felt like acid in his veins. He lurched to his feet, stumbling and half blind in the cloudy air. He found the doorway, all but collapsed, too late remembering how he had had to squirm and squeeze his way through on hand and knees. He spun back around to face the creature---
But the room was empty.
No. Not empty. Light fell through the hole in the floor above, faintly illuminating the pile of rubble where he had fallen. At the sight of the figure sprawled there, his heart lurched into his throat, but what lay there amidst the fallen debris was not the writhing, faceless shadow which had pursued him, it was too small, smaller even than him, not a demon anymore but a boy.
Still shaky with adrenaline, Sirius took a step towards him, a very different kind of fear catching in his throat.
In the gloom the small shape looked horribly still, but another step closer and his eyes caught the faint rise and fall of his back, and Sirius felt his own breath leave him in a rush of relief.
But there was something he didn’t understand. This wasn’t one of Kiru’s gang; they were all kids from the dockyard and the Shallows and he knew them by sight if not by name; this boy he’d never seen before. But if he wasn’t part of the test, then what was he doing there? Even the most desperate squatters avoided it this place.
The boy stirred as he drew closer, letting out a low growl and then a screech that made Sirius flinch. He was trying to rise, but a piece of wood had pinned one of his legs.
Sirius moved to lift the broken joist, but the boy twisted violently, swiping at him, bearing his teeth in a hiss. Sirius fell backwards with a cry, landing on his bottom in the dust.
“I was trying to help!”
He stared at him in consternation and for the first time he realized that , for all his wildness, the other boy was terrified, his eyes round and black with the same fear that Sirius had felt moments ago. He had begun to struggle desperately, thrashing beneath the weight of the wooden support, careless of the injury he was doing to himself, like an animal trying to chew off its own limb to escape a trap.
“Wait--” Sirius pushed to his feet again and the boy froze. “Please just --” He broke off helplessly. It was an explosive kind of stillness and he didn’t know how to approach it. Every line of the other boy’s body seemed ready to erupt in violence at the slightest provocation. Hesitantly he held out his hands, palms up and empty. “Let me help?”
He took a small, diffident step towards him. “There’s a piece of wood on your leg. I think I can lift it. Alright? I’m not going to hurt you.” He moved more carefully this time, as though approaching a skittish animal, his motions slow and ginger, halting -- almost asking a question, asking permission with each one. Two large, round eyes were fixed on his very move, but this time the boy did not try to attack him as he made to reach for the piece of wood.
There was a soft intake of breath and a stifled whimper as he touched the broken joist. “It’s alright. Hang on.”
The wooden support was heavy and awkward, weighed down as it was by other pieces of debris, but he managed to lever it up just enough for the other boy to slither free. He scuttled backwards, shrinking away from Sirius against the frame of the stairs. There was a dark streak on the torn leg of his trousers, too dark to be dirt.
“You’re hurt?” He could feel the boy’s eyes on him like a physical weight, but there was no response, “Your leg,” he tried again. “You’re bleeding.” He motioned towards the stained pant leg and felt a sting of guilt as the boy flinched away from him.
Sirius drew his hand back quickly. “Sorry.” He hesitated, awkward and uncertain beneath that strange, unwavering gaze. Then, slowly, he sank to his knees. He nodded towards the injury this time. “Can I see?”
Confusion mixed with fear on the boy’s face and Sirius wondered suddenly if perhaps he did not speak the language. “Ah…. can -- can you understand what I’m saying?”
The pause was uncomfortably long, but then a very slight nod and Sirius smiled with relief. “Can I see?” he asked again, but when he carefully shifted closer, the boy cringed, breath hissing between his teeth in a sharp gasp, and Sirius withdrew, crestfallen.
He looked helplessly down at his empty hands and then suddenly brightened. He reached into his pocket, momentarily forgetting to move slowly, and withdrew a small, colorless lump. Stale, with sweat-damp lint clinging to it, it was barely recognizable as bread. He had been saving it since yesterday.
He was aware of a change in the intensity fo the other boys’ gaze. Saucer-round eyes now fixed on his hand. His head had crane forward from between his shoulders and there was a poised, quivering tension running through his whole body.
Sirius felt a sudden, sharp stab of reluctance and his fingers tightened reflexively around the piece of bread, an unwelcome, unfamiliar ferocity rising in his throat like a snarl. Mine.
He balked at the feeling, shame making his face burn. Hunger stretched him out from the inside, displacing him, until there were moments when it felt as though there was barely anything of him left. He hated it, the compulsion of it, almost more than he hated the hunger.
After an agonizing hesitation, he held the dry, little lump out towards the boy.
He reacted with such desperate suddenness it made Sirius flinch, snatching the offering from his hand and cramming it into his mouth before retreating once more. He was staring at Sirius with something close to awe.
“Can -- can I see?” Sirius hazarded again, as gently as he could, and this time the boy did not pull away when he moved closer. He could sense the sudden spike in tension, and hear the sharp intake of breath as he touched his torn pant leg. “It’s alright.” Gods, he was shaking like a leaf; he could feel it through the thin fabric of his trousers. “It’s alright”, he repeated stupidly. “You -- you don’t want it to dry like this. It’ll stick. And then it’ll hurt even worse to peel it off.” He was rambling, saying anything he could think of. “I’m just -- I’m just going to role it up a little, alright? Just to look.”
There was a stifled whimper as he tried to move the fabric away from wound and he froze. “Did that hurt?”
A jerky, barely perceptible shake of the head.
Carefully he peeled the damp, clinging fabric away to reveal a shallow gash across his shin. It looked clean enough, as though he’d caught it on something sharp as he was falling. He gave the boy what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “It’s not deep, just a bad scratch. Still need to clean it, though. Do you know how to do that?”
Silence. Sirius bit his lip. “I don’t…. have anything for that. But maybe one of the others --” He recalled suddenly the small pack that the older boy had been carrying. “They might have something that’ll help. I’ll go and check, alright?”
At the mention of the others he felt the boy recoil, head shaking vigorously.
“It’s alright. They’re just other kids. They -- they think this place is haunted.” He neglected to mention that so did he. “They wanted me to spend the night in here to prove….” Sirius trailed off with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know. It was stupid. But they might have bandages or rags or something. I’m just going to go and ask, alright? I promise.”
He pulled away, still careful to make no sudden movements, and turned back to the collapsed doorway, crawling on his hands and knees and wriggling through, hurrying across the creaking floor to the window, the upper floor and it’s toothy maw all but forgotten in his urgency.
His arrival in the alley was greeted by a startled shriek from one of the children -- who having heard the crashing and screams from the house must have assumed the worst -- and a triumphant crow from the other. “Told you he’d never make it!”
Sirius glared at them. “The house isn’t haunted,” he said in his most grown-up voice, “There’s just a kid in there. And he’s hurt.”
It was growing too dark to see their faces, but there was no mistaking the smugness in the boy’s voice. “Pfft. Just admit it -- “ He had stepped up close, finger jabbing into Sirius’ chest to punctuate each word, “You - didn’t - have - the -guts.”
Sirius swatted his hand away and the boy shoved him back.
“There’s someone in there and they’re hurt. We need bandages or rags or --”
“What’s that?” The other child made a grab for his collar and Sirius pulled away, confusion and anger flashing across his face.
“You’re not listening! We need--”
“He’s got shine!” the boy cried as his more reluctant comrade edged closer and Sirius’ hand snatched at his throat, feeling to his horror that the small charm, normally hidden safely beneath his shirt, had slipped out and was hanging openly around his neck.
He scrambled backwards, but collided with the smaller child who grabbed him round the waist and they both landed sprawling in the dirt.
“Get off! Lemme go!” They were both on top of him now, snatching and pummeling, nails dug into his hand, trying to pry open his fingers. “NO!”
A horrible, keening scream split the night air and the weight on his chest suddenly shifted as both children abruptly leapt to their feet. Between their legs Sirius glimpsed a shadow come sailing out of one of the windows, land in a tangle of limbs, and begin skittering towards them on all fours, shrieking and hissing.
The two children screamed and bolted for the mouth of the alley, leaving Sirius on his back in the dirt, alone with the shadow.
Gingerly he sat up, swiping at his bleeding nose with an arm as he struggled to his feet, his other hand still clutching his pendant.
The shadow edged backwards at the movement, slowly standing and he was struck again by how small he seemed once the terrifying wildness had fallen away. He crept back to the open window, limping slightly, and Sirius realized suddenly that he was trying to leave.
“Wait!” The cry slipped from him with the same starving compulsion which had made his fingers flex closed around the piece of bread. Please stay.
He thought he saw a brief hesitation in the shadow’s movement, and in the dark he felt rather than saw the strange weight of those eyes staring at him. “Please don’t--” Leave, is what he meant to say, but he was too late, the street was already empty..
Sirius’ shoulders crumpled as he stood there, very small and still, little more than a shadow himself in the darkened alley. He couldn’t go back to Kiru. He hadn’t passed the test. He was alone.
Helpless, exhausted tears welled up in his eyes and he angrily dashed them away, lifting his chin and pulling his shoulders back. He bit down hard on his lip.
He didn’t need them.
He turned away from the old workhouse and began to move back down the street in the direction of the docks. He always visited the abandoned rigging loft, every night without fail. This would have been the first night that he missed since Zaya and Kastor disappeared. Perhaps what had happened was punishment for that.
The second rush of adrenaline was beginning to wear off and his movements had become slow and stiff and tender, as every bruise and scrape he had acquired that night made itself known.
He hadn’t gone far when he heard the the faint scuffing of feet behind him. He turned, heart thudding in his chest, but instead of Kiru’s two little thugs, he was just in time to see a small figure melt back into the shadows.
Sirius opened his mouth to call out, but the words died in his throat, afraid that no one would answer, afraid that no one would come. He started to walk again, and after a short while he heard the steps, closer this time, and then closer still. He stopped abruptly and turned -- the shadow, only a half dozen paces from him, flinched and he heard a soft gasp, the figure was quivering as if it was taking every ounce of his nerve not to run.
“Hey….” The timid greeting trailed off into unanswered silence and Sirius swallowed. He didn’t want to trust this. The shadow was only going to run away again. He’d probably only followed him hoping for more food.. He held out his empty hands. “I don’t have anything else to eat, if that’s what you wanted. I’m sorry.”
The shadow shrank back half a step at the movement, but when it became clear that no blow was forthcoming, he crept forward again, moving with the mincing hesitancy of a cat interacting with an unfamiliar object.
“I told you, I don’t have anything,” Sirius repeated. He tried to speak gently, but he could not keep his own bitter disappointment from creeping in. The shadow paused at the sound of his voice, and Sirius braced himself, expecting to be left alone for the second time that night. But then, to his surprise, the shadow continued to inch closer.
Sirius blinked in confusion. “You…...want to stay?”
Another hesitation, another creeping step.
Sirius looked down at his empty palms, and then up at the shadow, and then, with a flinching sort of hopefulness, he held out one hand, and the shadow took it.
16 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
gigapichu
Red Zone
allmyuglyorgans
When I am dead my dearest
oceanandrocks
Adventure Photography
treasure-album
TREASURE record album
loco2574
Apocalipsis