#i can't believe no one mentioned the full absurdity of the house thing

[pocketramblr]

Ok I have now been sitting with my dad as he played (very nostalgic) and I have more thoughts (so does he)

The funniest thing remains Link making that drink he was too young for in the first game. The second funniest thing now is all the ways the game plays around with the health bars. Destroying all of them to reset Link at the start of the game? Ganondorf getting that boosted health line that just keeps stretching? I lol'd

Um your friends showing up in person to help at the final fight when they couldn't be there in spirit was great. Love that. The whole fight with the Demon King Ganondorf (congrats on the promotion from Gannon Prince of Darkness?) was great to watch. Him going dragon mode was good and I think it proved the Zonai wrong about what happens when you become a dragon. He acted like the calamity and still clearly hated you, just like Zelda still loved you and kept the sword safe. I guess the Zonai couldn't really get a scientific study on what happens when you go dragon mode with a control group and stuff to confirm if you actually lose yourself, or if everyone who just wanted to go dragon mode was kinda eager to leave humanity behind before they ate the forbidden fruit gummy

My dad doesn't love how Zelda got de-dragoned because it negated the narrative consequences and made it less meaningful. I can understand that even if I don't agree (I would for a book, but a Zelda game? Eh. Restoring Zelda past what she sacrificed during the game is kinda par for the course.) That said I think he would have felt different if it had been like.... The light dragon has a visible stone like draganondorf did, you break it off to undo the dragoning like you just did, but end up with a stunned Zelda you catch out of the air instead of a dying Ganondorf that goes splat. Because then it's not a ghost sage showing up to magically undo Zelda's choice, it's just Link repeating what he can clearly already do and hacking away at it. But seriously why did one dragon have the stone clearly and the other didn't if they were both eaten...... Anyway....

The stones are interesting and something I think works for [a part of the lozbnha au collab that hasn't been published yet] that was planned already with minimal tinkering

I really expected Purah to pick up Mineru's stone at the end and be the new sage of spirit? Since we were missing a Sheikah sage? And she was just conspicuously there at the end? Huh yeah ok I'm gonna assume it just happens after

Continue to love the yiga but not how they keep taking over familiar locations... Robbie's workshop? MY old shrine of resurrection???? Just rude

Zelda being the one impersonated is fun after the times Shadow Link ruined your reputation. One day a game will give us both at once and that'll be fun

Ummm wearing Link Awakening's face is disturbing! I love it but yikes why. I continue to love the clothes. I also think we should get dragon outfits for light dragon and draganondorf.

My opinion on Sonia remains. My dad says she couldn't be named Zelda because she and Rauru had to name their daughter after time traveling Zelda to make a stable loop. But um. She didn't have a daughter born after Zelda got there so how did that work. A granddaughter maybe? Also I don't care they really don't need to justify the Zelda name thing. They're all named Zelda. We're all named Link. And so far all 3 out of 3 named Gerudo dudes have been named Ganondorf. I guess masculine names aren't in high demand (*grumbles about how they should be*) but still. Oh right Gerudo. Love you mohawk goth Gerudo girl love you playing a musical instrument to magical effect....

Also I know clearly Link and Zelda were living in one house at the start but no one had mentioned that Link just gets a second house in this game?? Except it's really just. Pods that you can stack?? Man's out here living in storage units he decorated because he didn't want to go to his and Zelda's empty house or something??? Anyway we're adding a paddock to his now.

any totk thoughts (just from osmosis bc idk if you've played it)

i haven't played it or really sought out watching it but i still have things from osmosis and i will say them,,,,, under the cut. very disorganized and randomly spoilery etc etc

Things I Would Have Done Differently If I Were Sonia

1- Been named "Zelda" instead. (nin10do you COWARDS are you really scared to have two different characters separated by untold generations named zelda NOW??? NOW YOU THINK THATS CRINGE???? fool. You did that in your first ever sequel and it was amazing. now you look scared and stupid. kill the part of you that cringes instead. In my head her name is Zelda and i dont care.)

2- not married that fake "Rauru". Like. OG Rauru is a cool fat ancient sage with an animalsona who protects the nukes away from everyone else and when you accidentally mess it up he hides and keeps you safe until you can go fix it. This new one is some imperialist that everyone is sooo obsessed with because his waist is snatched now. Or maybe i'll be more generous and say it's because they're furries that's more fair. But still like. Please there are others to simp over. he was all "oh im the first king of hyrule' and i was like 'oh.... no you're not'

(its actually ok that we have um. yet another first king of hyrule. Because we can have 3 first kings of hyrule, since we have 3 iterations of ganondorf now too. but we should still have 3 first zeldas. and we only have 2. because they messed up sonia. come on it would have been all NICE AND CLEAN AND BALANCED if there were 3 first kings, 3 first zelda, and 3 ganondorfs. This is the series about 3!!!!! but.... well perhaps next game we can have a third first zelda. perhaps i can be patient.)

(also love that we have a 3rd ganondorf. do you know how often i had to explain he does in fact reincarnate and that fsa ganondorf is a different one from oot? but now everyone knows theres more than one but less than the number of links even if they dont know exactly how many ganondorfs there are so. close enough! now ill just pretend he had a 3rd seperate origin story as well instead of 2 origins shared between 3 come on let the guy have something.)

This is unrelated but I think the Zonai are the evolutionary link between Ooca and the botw!Rito (since they did not evolved from the zora like ww!Rito). They look kinda dinosaur-y to me. i guess they're supposed to look kinda goat-y too? and rabbit-y???? i dunno i think they're generally fun. And also might be the results of unethical sheikah experimentation yeah i don't forget the temple of shadow............

OH and im very glad (our) Link wasn't the hero from the tapestry with Zonia. theres apparently some other Zonai hero with red hair who's briefly in it? i wish that Zonai was also named Link and got more to show but i was really not a fan of time-looping this poor link too, he had enough of that with the 100 year nap. if i can't have a gerudo link, at least we have a zonai hero maybe

but also in sooooo many fics i reserve the right to completely ignore this game. if it doesn't fit where i planned it didn't happen. this is like hyrule warriors to me. in another timeline.

LOVE all the yiga stuff and getting to fight with friends now. its what link deserves and his friends deserve. LOVE LOVE that Zelda and Link are so codependent there's not a word in the hylian language for them. i am a qpr truther for this particular zelink but i think that if these two were offered a way to fuse into a single being they would at least STRONGLY consider it. unhinged. love them.

incredible outfits for link and i love slowly discovering them as art passes my dash.

The way this world is even more open than botw is such a feat, the open engineering is just fabulous. I hope to see a new drone every week. Torturing the koroks is just. its horrible but i laugh every time .kjhghjkkjhjk whyyyyy these poor little tree dudes (*chanting 'crucify this one too' in my head*)

the way this game tried to both continue the botw 'honoring past games' and did a new 'gaslight you about the other games never happening' is a wild balance. Like, TWINROVA SHOWED UP??? in what i think is a very subtle detail in a memory??? maybe there's more of them in the game but it seems to be the same level as like 'hero of the winds' mentioned plus some salt around hyrule. excellent love that. but i also just saw a post gushing about how great it was that this game made this link theeeee most important specialist hero eeeever and the master sword was only ever for him and um. i just hope that isn't true. i think this game should add and not take away.

but hey twinrova showed up and there was that cool goth gerudo too!! i stan her.

oh and redeads in gerudo town or whatever it was? AMAZING. gerudo town was all spared from the calamity in the first game with no guardians making past the desert so having the town taken over and terrifying with the upheaval is just a good show of stakes stepping up.

OH!!!! and my number one favorite thing is that Link can make a drink that he was too young to order in botw. funniest possible thing that dude can do.

[diamondheartyux]

Pennywise

  "Legend has it he likes to be crammed into any tight, wet hole he can find." 

DK x xreader

Genre: Horror, Smut 18 + MDNI

Word count: 5.8K

Warnings: Clowns, aggression, dub\con-ish, this is pretty tame compared to the others BUT if I have missed anything please let me know.

Welcome to part one of Killer Climaxes! 👻

Peep the playlist here

In a small town in Seoul, rumors swirl about Dokyeom: a clown obsessed, sex crazed weirdo who hangs out in the town's sewer systems. He was Seoul's own little Pennywise except he didn't crave your life, just your orgasms. It was also believed that once he got his hands on you, you were never the same, your body morphing, turning you into a certified nympho as the desperate craving for more was all but unbearable. The only problem is he doesn't double tap, so the town is left with a hoard of mindless zombies walking around in search of their next lay that could come close enough to satisfying them. 

People always say there are pieces of truth in legends but you can't seem to find any in this. A whole town of lust driven citizens? A grown man who roams sewers dressed as a clown? No sane person would do these things. It was absurd not to mention the fact that you were absolutely terrified of clowns. You scoff, one headphone in blasting your favorite playlist, as you quickly crumble the newsletter in your hand. Your footsteps echo on the wet pavement, the chilly autumn air hanging with the remnants of the storm having just passed through. The leaves rustle in the trees lining the street, the air around them dancing in shades of yellow, orange, and red. A breeze blows softly, whispering to your skin as it coaxes goosebumps to the top. You pull your cardigan tighter around you as your feet pad over piles of fallen leaves with a satisfying crunch. 

The sun was hidden behind the looming gray clouds, dimming the bright rays to a muted light around you. It was almost dusk, that time between early afternoon and nightfall when the street lights would turn themselves on at the first hint of dimness. You take in a deep breath, savoring the smells of damp and decay surrounding you and the scent sends waves of peace to your brain and through your body. It really was the most wonderful time of the year. You tread softly, in no hurry to get home as you travel the familiar path from college to your house. You zone out, your feet carrying you off muscle memory, as you nod your head to the music blasting in one ear. This road was empty, as it always was. That's why you chose it. No cars, no bikes, and most importantly: no people to bother you as you decompress from the day full of academics. 

Humming softly, you skip a little as you lose yourself to your music pumping loudly in your ear, your arms swinging and your shoes stomping on piles of wet leaves. Your body moves to the beat, shimmying in time with the tempo. Your mind is lost within you, the rhythm in your ears is just the escape you need after today. The town was buzzing for Halloween as it quickly approached, every corner boasting of witches, vampires, and clowns. All make believe creatures merely brought to life by childlike wonder, things you didn't understand the fascination with. 

You pass a storm drain and roll your eyes before tossing the balled up newsletter in your hand at it as you pass. You watch it as it disappears, hitting the concrete on the inside with a small noise and you smirk proudly. It was a perfect shot which is a lot because your aim was terrible. You turn back to the empty road before you with a smile on your face, amping the volume on your phone up. And you almost miss it. 

You weren't sure what you heard at first. A rustling so soft, it sounded like a background noise in your song. You pause the music, still strolling, and listen. When you don't hear anything you unpause it then rewind, listening for the odd sound again. Concentrating on the notes and rhythm in your earbud, you finally hear it again yet this time, it's in a different spot in the song. You stop, your mind on alert now as you turn to survey around you. Your eyes laser in on everything, searching for anything or anyone around you. 

You turn slowly to your right after sweeping the left and that's when you see it. Your eyes widen as you stop mid turn, your shoulder angled towards the storm drain you just passed. There, about half a meter from the drain was the newsletter you threw inside. Your brain is buzzing, busy sending out signals of danger through you yet your body remains frozen in disbelief. Against better judgment, you bring your body to face the drain. Your head tilts curiously as you study the paper ball in the street. Your eyes dart from the drain to the paper and back. You knew you had thrown it into the drain. Hadn't you? No, you saw it go in. It was the perfect shot, wasn't it? You lift your foot the slightest bit much to your brain's disappointment, and you push yourself forward, taking a timid yet cautious step. 

You make your way back to the paper, one small, scared step at a time. You try to come up with reasons for what happened yet none of them make sense. You stop, bending down slowly to grab the paper as you approach it and that's when you hear it. A sound so soft you almost missed it. You squat down, peering into the sewer when you hear it again: a whimper. It’s childlike in nature and a panic begins to bloom in your chest. Was there a child in there? How long had they been in there? Were they stuck?

“Hello?” you call timidly, your voice soft but loud enough to bounce off the concrete of the drain. You gasp lightly when a small, timid voice returns your greeting. 

“H-h-help me.” it says softly, the high pitch whine of a scared, small child ringing in your ears, sending alarm bells through your entire body for the wrong reasons. You lean forward some, placing your hand on the slick pavement to balance yourself as you try to peer into the drain. 

“I’m stuck. Please help me. I’m so scared. It’s so dark here. I want my mom.” the voice says to you, a hushed sniffle paired with a choked sob following its last words. Your heart pounds, shattering and the sirens of your brain are silenced by the overwhelming need to help this poor scared child. You lean forward more, your face now mere centimeters from the opening. You tilt your head side to side as you survey the blackness that presents itself over the lip of the entrance. You pull your foot forward to walk yourself in your crouched position, the sound of your sneakers dragging across the pavement feel louder than they should be but still bounce off your ears despite the frenzied pumping of your heart. 

“Give me your hand. Let me see if I can pull you out and then we’ll find your mom, okay? Can you reach the top?” you ask tenderly as you continue to move your face closer. Your arm comes out hesitantly, hovering just in front of your chest as you wait to see little fingers breach the darkness in front of you.

Small sniffles echo quietly in the inky dark space and you sit frozen, eyes trained to it. 

“I’m reaching as far as I can. Can you see my fingers?” 

You tilt your head curiously, concluding that the child was too short to be seen over the edge so you lean forwards more, one knee coming to almost touch the ground as your hands rests on either side of you for balance. You bring your face to the storm drain, eyes straining to see the outline of small, chubby, childfingers. When you see nothing, you feel a mixture of frustration and concern. You squint before you call back out. 

“I can’t see you.” You reply but then you see pale white fingers slowly come from the void of the drain as they snake up into the air before coming down one by one to grip the lip deliberately. You tilt your head in confusion. The fingers are long and slender. And pale. They very much do not look like children’s fingers unless maybe it was the way the shadows cast in there. Maybe it was optical, something your brain couldn’t understand due to the vast varying degrees of dark and light. You watch, holding in a breath while leaning closer subconsciously before you hear the voice again.

“Can you see me now?” it asks in response, the childlike falsetto distorting with every syllable.. You lean forward a bit more out of curiosity, eyes squinting as you try to see when suddenly a face appears, popping up quickly. You gasp, startled and fall backwards as an eerie giggle floats across the space between you. It takes a moment for you to register that you were looking at a clown. His face was painted a ghostly white and it cracked along the lines in his forehead to settle into the wrinkles of his skin. His yellow eyes gleamed manically, the red lines running through them in consistency with the curve of his cheek stopped at the end of his lips before outlining them in the same deep red that lines his face and the top of his nose. A ruffled, dirty white collar framed his neck, resting under his chin. His hairline was pushed back, his red hair barely visible in the shadows.   

A scream dies in your throat as terror strikes you, coursing heatedly through your veins. Adrenaline responds immediately and you can feel your muscles trembling at the sight. A clown. A fucking clown. You’re frozen, deer eyed as you watch this creepy clown, his long white fingers lifting as more malicious laughter breezes off his lips. His hand begins to slowly climb out of the shadows, reaching at snail’s pace towards your ankles. Your hands ache from leaning back on them and your chest heaves as panic threatens to shut your entire system down. 

His fingers creep closer to your feet and you stare, helplessly frozen as they uncurl before stretching slowly in an attempt to wrap around your ankle. In that moment, your brain finally switches back on and you instinctively shuffle backwards in a desperate attempt to put space between you and him before curling your feet closer to you. Tears fall down your cheeks, your vision blurry with them as you scramble to get away. Your eyes refuse to leave his terrifying face, the sadistic smile curving his lips upwards and exposing his teeth, etch itself in your memory. You finally manage to pry your watery vision from the terror in front of you as you twist to the side, trying to push yourself up to stand and run. That’s when you feel it. 

His fingers wrap around your ankle and terror buzzes through you once again. Your heart pounds rapidly against your ribcage, as if screaming to get away. You turn your head to look back over your shoulder, both hands flat against the damp street under you before you kick your leg as you try to shake him off.. His hand grips tighter and his grin grows wider, exposing more of his pink gums.

He tugs at your foot, pulling you closer to the drain and to the darkness inside it. You kick harder and more frantically this time while sobs begin to erupt from your chest. He pulls you quicker and your flailing slows down to a stop. You try to grasp the ground as you inch closer to him, your nails cracking and breaking against the pavement before they begin to bleed. Your fingertips ache and, despite the failed efforts, you continue to claw in hopes to get away. You dig your hands tighter against the concrete as his giggles dance up your body and hover in your ears. Your vision is cluttered with tears despite the stream of them cascading down to drop from your chin.

In spite of your efforts, you can feel him pulling you closer, your legs bending as they crest the lip of the drain and dangle in the darkness inside it. Your arms ache and your fingers throb, the tips raw from your pointless struggling. You sniffle as your attempts to free yourself dwindle. Your body slides deeper into the storm drain, your legs dangling aimlessly as your waist finally crests the lip. He tugs you more with his slender fingers wrapped around your ankle almost painfully.You all but give up, allowing him to drag you further into his makeshift lair when suddenly you stop moving. He yanks your ankle to pull you down but you don’t move. Your upper body from the waist up remains on the outside, your hips too thick to snake into the bend of the drain. You wince as he continues to tug on your leg. Your hands return to trying to grip the road as you attempt to pull yourself out. Your legs flail frantically, hoping to take this opportunity to escape.    

A sigh of frustration permeates the air as he finally stops pulling your leg. You kick your legs continuously as you try to shimmy your way back out when suddenly a sting radiates across your backside. You jump slightly at the sudden, unexpected motion. Just how hard did he slap you for it to sting through your jeans? You continue to work to free yourself when another sting radiates through your bottom half. Your attempts falter as your body and your brain begin to work on different levels. Your brain tries to process what's happening while your body,...well your body doesn't seem to understand. The dull ache left in the wake of his hand spreads through you and your body is responding in all the wrong ways. A craving starts to wake, yawning as it rises slowly in your core so when his hand connects with your ass again, you almost moan involuntarily. 

Your brain bounces everywhere. You should be trying to get away, not all but anxiously waiting for the next touch. It had been a while since someone had made you feel good and the fact that his face was hidden almost made it bearable. But he was still some weirdo dressed as a clown and you should definitely get away, shouldn’t you? You reach a hand out in front of you and put pressure on your fingers as they grasp the pavement the best they can when his fingers begin to trail the inside of your legs. You pause as they work up from your calves at a tantalizingly slow pace. The tips of his fingers barely press against your pants as they tickle and tease on their ascension. You bring your bottom lip into your mouth, gnawing it as you anticipate the touch you knew was coming. He stalled, stopping to draw lazy circles in the middle of your inner thigh and you sigh before shifting in an attempt to move his hand where you want it.  

A chuckle creeps up before his fingers continue their journey, grazing teasingly over the crotch of your jeans. You shift, pushing yourself backwards against the touch. His hand slips up towards your stomach, his fingers curling to cup you before they rub small circles against the fabric. You stifle a groan, the touch not nearly enough friction through the thick fabric of your jeans. 

His hand disappears quicker than it appeared and you almost whine in protest before you feel his hand snaking between you and the wall you were dangling against. His other hand remains on your ankle, the grip loosening slightly as his fingers work to unbutton your jeans. He slides the zipper down slowly before pushing the fabric down as best he can with one hand. You shift slightly, instinctively trying to roll yourself against his hand to no avail. He continues to push your jeans down to your knees before he brings his hand back between your legs. His fingers slip over you, sliding skillfully between your folds. He runs them back and forth lazily before bringing his fingertips to your clit. You moan quietly as the motions send tiny jolts of pleasure through you. 

His hand around your ankle loosens more as he rubs you at a teasingly slow pace, his hand still cupped as it hovers over your ankle while he waits to see if you try to escape again. You barely feel him remove his hand, your mind focused on how you could get more pleasure from his digits to even bother with trying to run even if you had. Another soft chuckle vibrates the air before you feel his opposite hand come to caress your exposed ass. You groan at the touch, pushing your hips into his hand for more friction. He pops your ass lightly as you do and you whine. The slap wasn't enough to sting but enough for you to get the point that he was in control here, not you. The teasing was frustrating despite how little of it had been given. You were already desperate for release before this and he was making it worse by drawing it out. 

He runs his hand over the curve of your ass, gripping your cheek gingerly as he tugs it towards him to expose you some. You gasp softly before a low moan quickly escapes your mouth, billowing over your lips as you wait for what you expect to come. His fingers dip slowly, tauntingly as they casually glide down the curve of your ass and dip between your legs. You shift in an attempt to open your legs up more to allow him in which causes him to chuckle again at your eagerness. His skinny fingers stop to tease your now dripping entrance. You moan as the fingers circling your clit pick up their pace ever so slightly before he slips a finger inside you. You push your hips backwards to meet him as he sinks his digit deeper in. He starts out slowly, pulling his finger almost all the way out before pushing it back in to curl repeatedly in search of your sweet spot. You shiver slightly with every stroke as it warms the embers burning in your stomach. 

His fingers work you in a rhythm, picking up in pace gradually. He slips a second finger into you and you groan, your aching fingers digging into the pavement again as your pleasure threatens to coil tight enough to snap. Your body acts on its own accord, pushing and rolling your hips between each hand faster and faster as you match his pace. He pumps in and out quickly, always making sure to stroke the sensitive spot buried in you. Your lip aches from biting back the sounds that brewed in your throat and finally, you press your forehead on the wet ground as the dam holding them back breaks. Your moans carry, vibrating along your skin to carry down to his ears. His fingers pick up, circling faster and pumping harder. The tension now festering inside was growing too fast, it was uncontrollable and finally, it broke loose. Your body shudders and you clenched around his fingers, his ministrations sending you right over the edge without a second glance. You moan into the concrete as pleasure crashes into you. His fingers don’t relent, still pumping in and out of you as he coaxes your orgasm on. 

Your body quivers slightly as you buck softly through each wave. His hand falls from your clit before his fingers slip out, leaving an emptiness in their wake. You groan and wiggle again, still wanting more despite having just gotten off. You hear his mouth pop, as if he had been sucking on his fingers before he chuckles again and you have to stifle a moan at the thought of him licking you from his fingers and enjoying it. You lift your head up, your breathing rapid as your brain tries to settle and unscramble when you feel yourself slip a little. You grip the road again to keep yourself where you are to no avail. You squeak out a small yelp and squeeze your eyes shut as your body slips more, sinking into the sewer. You brace yourself for the impact you were so sure you’d feel and when it doesn’t come, you open your eyes. 

It was dim, the soft light from the drain barely illuminating anything. Your pants were still bunched around your knees but with them were hands. You raise your eyes and turn your head and find those yellow eyes staring back at you. They gleaned but this time with lust instead of malice. His hands held your hips and he pressed his fingers into your skin lightly. You shut your eyes quickly, the sight of him sending terror to override the high you were still riding. His fingers danced against your skin causing it to prickle underneath his touch. Your body, despite better sense, ignited again as he ran his hand up your body to caress your waist. He turned you around to press his back against you and you could feel the outline of his arousal as it pressed into your bare ass. You moan quietly as his hands continue their journey, fingertips trailing as they come to cup your breasts. 

Your hand reaches back to rub against him as he paws your chest through your shirt, stopping to slip his hands under your sweater then your bra to caress your bare skin. His fingers graze over your nipples, flicking across them teasingly before he rolls them between his thumb and pointer finger. He tugs them gently and you gasp, your hand gripping his erection through his costume as you try to stroke him. You keep your eyes shut as he walks the two of you forward before coaxing you to bend. He lifts your hand from his crotch and places it against the cool, curved wall. A breath puffs from your lips at the crisp feeling against your skin, the chill a deep contrast to the heat blazing under your skin. His hands disappear from under your sweater and you hear the sound of his clothing rustling. In seconds, the hands have reappeared followed by the warmth of his skin as he grips your hips to pull you against him. 

You moan softly at the feeling of his bare erection pressing against the skin of your ass and you push yourself back towards him. He lifts his hands, one coming to spread your ass cheeks apart and the other to guide himself to your entrance. You arch your back as you offer yourself up to him and he takes the invitation, swiftly pushing himself into you. He curses lightly at the feel of you, your warmth and wetness eagerly swallowing him. His cock fills you with a fullness you hadn’t ever experienced before. You moan at the feeling of being stretched this way as he pushes into more and more. Your chest heaves as your breathing rises with every inch he buries inside you before you feel his hips against your skin again.

You hang your head, your hands resting firmly on the wall as he pulls back to slide out of you almost completely. You moan softly as he pushes himself back into you swiftly, setting the pace of the movements to follow. He starts to thrust into you fast, rocking your body with every pump. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips roughly as he pulls you to him with every forward thrust he makes. He grunts softly as you moan loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls around you. He thrusts faster, each one a little more aggressive than the last when a hand sides off your hips to caress up your back, over the base of your neck, and into your hair. His body leans over yours and you moan again as he pushes deeper into you while he fists your hair tightly. He tugs it roughly one time and you wince before he tugs again to pull your body flush with his, your back against his chest. 

You gasp and groan as your hands whip around to grip against his hips, legs, whatever you could find and his pumps into you hard and fast. His free hand comes to rest under your sweater, his bare hand holding you as it rests on your stomach. He tugs your hair again to pull your head back before he presses his lips into the crook of your neck. He pounds into you over and over while his lips glide over your neck, stopping only to allow his teeth a chance to graze the sensitive spot below your ear. His groans bounce between his lips and your ear and fuels the fire blazing dangerously in your core. You dig your nails into his skin when his hand slips from your stomach and his fingertips find your clit again. 

He rubs it almost furiously without bearing down painfully as he pumps faster into you. You rest your head against his chest, his hands still wrapped into your hair. The dam holding your sounds from earlier was all but shattered and the sounds of your moans mix with flesh colliding in the chilly, murky tunnel around you as they echo around you. You yelp as he pulls your hair harshly before letting it go, pushing your head forward as he does. He quickly forces you to lean back over and his hands find your hips again. He digs his fingers in painfully as he pulls out of you before slamming back inside roughly. The flames of your desire dance wildly with every thrust, pushing you closer and closer to combustion as he fucks you harshly. You hold yourself up on the wall as your body bounces violently in rhythm with his strokes. 

He grunts and groans in time with each one before finally the fire inside explodes. You cry out as your body convulses under him. His strokes hold pace as you clench around him, having missed the edge of your pleasure before being completely catapulted into the blaze instead. He draws it out but never lets up, his skin slapping against yours as layer after layer of desire burns through your cells. When the embers finally die, you lift your head up and let it loll back as he carries on, chasing his high. You rock back and forth in time with his body, more sounds pouring from his lips before finally he pulls out of you suddenly. The absence hardly has time to be felt before he’s spinning you around and pushing you to your knees. 

You don’t have time to think much less try to disobey before he shoves his cock into your mouth. You moan softly at the taste of you melting onto your tongue before he rocks himself against your mouth and shoves himself all the way in. You gag as he hits the back of your throat but it doesn’t stop him. He continues his chase. His fingers tangle into your hair as he guides your head back and forth to match the pace of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. He growls before he smashes himself against the back of your throat once more. His hands hold you flush with his hips and his cock twitches as you gag around it. Tears form immediately in your eyes as you feel a warmth spurt against your raw throat. He rocks against your mouth as he chases his orgasm, making sure to coax out every drop of his release as he can as you swallow instinctively.  

When he pulls out, you gasp for air and the tears pooling in your eyes creep down your cheek slowly. You cough, leaning over slightly. You only take your eyes off him for a minute but when you lean back up merely seconds later, he is gone. You rest a hand on your chest as you wait for your body and breathing to return to their normal, calm state. You turn your head side to side as you search for him but it's empty around you. You stand up and pull your jeans up to refasten them and readjust your clothing. You run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to comb it slightly before you turn to take in the area around you. You look up at the opening of the drain and know there was no way you would be able to get out of there that way. You turn to your left and begin to walk cautiously, your body on alert in the near darkness as you wait for him to pop out at you from the darkness somewhere. 

You walk for what feels like forever before you see small beams of light cascading from the ceiling up ahead. As you get closer, a ladder comes into view. You climb up, rung by rung, stopping to press up against the heavy cover closing the path into the sewer above you. You let it crack lightly and listen before pushing it up and over. You pull yourself out onto a deserted road before standing and replacing the manhole cover. You brush yourself off and take in the area around you before recognizing where you were. When you get home, you go straight to the shower to wash off your circus sewer romp in hopes to help calm your body down. You climb into bed after and pull the covers to your chin only to be haunted by the memories of your afternoon. His face flashes through your mind, those yellow eyes boring into you. Tingles dance across your skin, teasing your arousal until you can’t take it anymore. You work yourself quickly, desperate for sleep but he was even there. 

You dreamed about him, about the way he felt inside you. You heard the noises he made and felt his hands against you all over again. You awoke the next morning just as flustered as you were when you went to sleep. And it stayed this way. Every day and every night you were haunted by the memories of him and nothing was as satisfying as the way he slammed into you. Clowns no longer scared you after that. You watched them too closely now, hoping maybe one of them was him. You knew the rumors said he never hit it twice but you were desperate and only he could fill you the way you ached for. Every giggle that floated mysteriously across the air set your body and heart off. Every drain you passed, you stared at too long, hoping whatever you tossed inside would appear back on the street again after you passed. 

You groaned softly, remembering when merely days ago you were scoffing at the unreal accusations of how half the town were brain dead, having been fucked into an addiction only to now find yourself in the same position.                  

[sovonight]

invaluable | xan/radri, bg2

—✧—

[A while after this exchange:

Xan: I wanted to enchant a ring for you, but this one overshadows everything I will ever be able to give you. How ironic that it comes from the Shadowmaster of Athkatla.

Radri: And how unfortunate that none of us can even wear it, our equipment being what it is. I would rather have your ring, instead.

Xan: A mere bauble will not protect your life, and I have no time to enchant it properly. Perhaps in the future... but no, I have distracted myself from what I wanted to say.]

Radri: I've been thinking about your ring.

Xan: My ring...? Ah, the one that has yet to be made.

Radri: But it already has, hasn’t it? You’ve carried a ring with you ever since you returned from Evereska.

Xan: You noticed? I can slip nothing past you, I see. But it is not complete, Estel'amin—as I alluded to before, it is unenchanted, and as such, it is yet nothing.

Radri: It is not nothing. Its current form is to its advantage: enchanted, it would have to compete with the other enchanted equipment I carry, but unenchanted, I can wear it always.

Radri: Even now, it would bring me courage—or, would you rather that it raise my sense of self-preservation, although as I keep trying to convince you, it is already appropriately high?

Radri: I... I suppose we speak so much of the future now, and of dreams of a quiet life, and when we’re so far from all of it, I’d feel one step closer to…. Oh, never mind. I feel like I’ve stolen a secret from you; I'm sorry, I won't mention it again.

(She looks away, out across the cityscape; in the sunset, even the slums district appears awash in glittering gold. Beside her, Xan remains quiet for a moment, then retrieves something from the pocket of his robes.)

Xan: This ring has been passed down in my House. Through trial and tribulation, and the endless march of time, its magics are gone, having long served their purpose; it holds only its history now. I carried it with me from Evereska thinking, perhaps, that I would give it new life—that when it was ready, I would present it to you in ceremony...

Xan: But perhaps I have been thinking too long.

Xan: Here. My ring, unfinished and unpresentable as it is. If it pleases you, even in such a state as this, it is yours—but I promise you, I will strive to make it worthy of you someday.

Radri, meeting his eye warmly as she accepts it: I love it, Tahlimil. It is already worthy.

Xan, embarrassed and relieved: Why does my mind insist on tormenting me with thoughts of your judgment, when my heart already knows what you will say? Though now that it is on your finger, perhaps it is time to let go of my frivolous dreams of holding a formal ceremony. We may as well just find a quiet spot in which to say our vows.

Radri, kissing him on the cheek: No, we must still have the ceremony. Because you wish for it, it must be so, and it will be grand and beautiful.

—

Radri: I lost it.

Xan: Lost what?

Radri: I lost it! Linvail's ring! I had already been thinking of getting rid of it since it only takes up space in my backpack, but—to not even be able to recoup the barest fraction of its value by bringing it to a shop?! Oh, I can't believe I—Xan?

(Radri looks up in time to see Xan shaking in silent laughter, which then bursts out in a full laugh.)

Xan: Of course! Of course, you would care so little about a ring powerful enough to belong to royalty that you let it be misplaced! What an absurd life it is we lead!

Xan: Meanwhile, mere trinkets are given the treatment of kings—even the blooms I had set upon your hair a year ago were kept carefully preserved in your journal, as though they were imbued with a lifetime's worth of magic and not merely painfully ordinary. Sentiment will not save your life, but you hold it dearer than the things that could.

Radri, half insulted: I think I strike an appropriate balance between sentiment and practicality.

Xan: Oh, Estel'amin, smooth the furrow in your brow; I do not laugh at you, but at myself. I see that even if I spent centuries in study, you would not love the ring I enchanted for you for its boons, but for my efforts. What pointless, pointless jealousies I bear…

(His rare mirth fades as he sobers once more.)

Xan: But I am sorry that the ring was lost—it was truly in a class of its own, and now you will earn nothing for it.

Radri, still in shock and awe of what she’s just witnessed: No, I... think in the end, it paid for itself.

[robertphilip]

rewatched enchanted two days ago and i always notice little things about it with each rewatch.

can i just say i LOVE the fact that although robert doesn’t believe giselle’s a real princess for most of the film he never calls her crazy for thinking that. he’s so much nicer than most people would be in that situation - which is what makes it absurd that some people think he’s too mean.

reading the screenplay and seeing that one of his lines is, “she deserves our sympathy instead of our fascination”and even wondering if she went through something traumatic is just so refreshing. he’s SO nice.

even when sam calls andalasia “andalusia” he corrects her.

i’m looking too much into it but it’s so sweet to me idk 😭

YES YES YES YES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think about this ALL the time omg exploding.

Robert is SO nice !!!!!!!!!!! Like SO nice!!!!!!!!!!!

He didn't have to let her into his house that night, but he did!! And then he lets her stay the night!!!!!!!!!! And the next morning, gosh okay I know Giselle didn't mean to, but she really put him through hell 😭 like she let vermin into his house (which he didn't know was technically a good thing), then had his girlfriend believe he was cheating on her, and then he finds out she chopped up his curtains. The man hasn't even fully woken up yet, and already he's Going Through It AND STILL !!! Still he says, "I'll get you to a bus, a train, a plane, wherever-", and tells Sam he's going to have to play for her flight, when he doesn't have to !!!!!!!!!!

And then she nearly gets him fired, and he still gives her money, and decides to keep helping her because he just can't leave her behind. and that entire day he continued paying for things like food, and drink. AND !! He lets her stay the night again, and makes the couch into a bed, and gives her his clothes.

And this full line didn't make it into the movie, but god I adore it

like Robert literally does so much for Giselle, which is why the entire "he's mean" thing is truly so baffling. He's stressed out, for sure, but despite how overwhelmed he is, he never stops helping her, and he literally does not have to !!!

He could've easily left her in that alley, or kicked her out of his apartment, or just left her on the street after getting to work, but his heart is simply too big.

Also, you mentioned him correcting Sam, and that's always been a little scene I've loved omg he looks so offended when she says it wrong.

And him thinking she's gone through something traumatic is just. I was headcanoning that he thought she must've been left at the alter, and her behavior was just her way of coping, so when I read the script that at least confirmed he was thinking she went through something horrible, oh, I felt so giddy !!

It's why I also love his "I know what it's like when someone disappoints you. It's tempting to see things the way you wish they were, instead of how they are" line so much, like, he wants to help her through this !!

He's been left before, and didn't get any proper help, and he doesn't want her to be stuck alone with the pain he thinks she's going through.

And, of course, he assumed wrong, but it's still so !!!!!!!!!!!! like he wanted to be a shoulder she could lean on.

Oh, and this isn't canon, but I'm choosing to believe Robert gave Giselle more money so she could buy things on her date with Edward. I think he and Nathaniel had their own sack of gold (??) but I like to think Robert, being the Very Nice and Kind person he is, gave them money just in case.

Gosh, I'm exploding. I love Robert so much.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker/Platonic! Crows x fem! Reader - Silence

A/n: So I know I haven't been very active lately but hopefully that will change! Also I don't really love this fic it's not very good and I might rewrite it in the future but for now, you guys can enjoy this shit!!!

Warnings: Abuse, sexual abuse, rape, violence, mentions of death, technically mentions of suicide, THIS FIC IS A MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!!

Summary: They used to be happy. That’s what Jesper says anyways about his sister. When he’s asked where it all went wrong it’s usually responded with an I have no idea. When Kaz comes to confront them in front of the Crows why you came back all bloodied and carrying back a body, they know this isn’t going to end well…

Death clung to you. That's what people muttered in the streets of Ketterdam, 'if the Blackbird is on a strike don't go outside for a week and remember, pray to the saint who wears the most colour.'

Great bedtime stories for children.

Your legend would never end, though it must have begun somewhere. Someone who you decided could witness one of your killings must have made up a story. Started it up and told it in fright to someone and the people not believing a word they say. Before their dead of course. And then it spreads like the plague.

The Blackbird was once a hopeful girl, full of dreams and happiness. She had beautiful feathers of all different kinds of colours, and they sang to the heavens and it was as if she was a child of the saints. Then one day - the bird that brought kindness and sunshine to everyone's lives fell into a trap.

There was a hyena that people all thought was bad news but she thought she could help him become a better person.

The little birdy was wrong.

He hurt the bird of colours so badly that one day he burned her feathers and they became pitch black. The hyena thought that he had won at last and had gotten power over the bird.

It was said that she ran and escaped the terrible beast that day. And because he had changed her to the very soul she wasn't the same anymore, no. She was only used for revenge, and it was said she turned her backs on the saints for not saving her. When the saints did decide to intervene the little bird was shattered and could no longer sing. Her voice reduced to a vengeful whip, it was no longer beautiful but fearsome.

It was said that on that night the Blackbird used her wings on Ketterdam so she could cover the sky in darkness so the stars in the sky, the only things the saints could use to watch over mankind was blindfolded in a merciless fog.

And there the Blackbird was born.

Maybe death clung to you, but not the same way that trauma and the cruelness of the world does.

And that's a fate worse than death.

You remember strike one, you and Jesper were kids - happy kids. And the neighbour's son of was considerably older than both of you offered to babysit the one time your Da, and Ma was out.

Jesper was playing in the back, perhaps practicing shooting so he could impress your Mum but you stayed inside saying something along the lines that you wanted to cook some cookies for Dad.

How you wished you hadn't.

That teenage boy had put his filthy little hands on you. He left you in the kitchen tears running down your face and bile that you had to force back down your throat.

Your mother had found you like that and she instantly knew what had happened and she made everything much more bearable. When you had nightmares you would get up and knock on her door quietly enough for her just to hear and because your Ma was a light sleeper but your Da was not, she would get up and see you alright.

The poor woman never told her husband because you had pleaded with her not to. She always did blame herself and she made sure the boy never came around again but she did thank the saints that he didn't go all the way.

She wasn't sunshine, (she always said that was you!) No, she was the faint moonlight in the distance that helped guide you on your way home.

Then she died.

Strike two, was your mother dying. You remember that day where she went to take the poison out of that child and when she did she sucked it back into herself. In your arms was the last place your Ma took her last breath.

That was the day the world had lost its guide home and it always seemed to be in peril after that.

Strike three came almost immediately after strike two. Your father wouldn't talk to you. You became a ghost in your own house, you understood your father though,

she did die in your arms.

Jesper was the only one that didn't make strike three the last strike where the rope was at its point and snapped. He was your armour against the world, with his funny quirks and quips. He was the older brother you needed in those moments.

But armour slowly breaks over time and your dear brother wasn't getting enough out of life at the farm. So when your Father sent Jesper to Ketterdam you went right with him.

You attended college for a bit but eventually, your armour had finally left you. It broke under the stress of everything in his life that he couldn't keep up with yours.

So you meant him.

He was kind but knew when the world was being too cruel. He was wealthy, but not rich. He was sweet, but not puke up rainbows kind of way. He knew you like the back of his hand and always knew how to comfort you. Jesper had actually meant him once before he got too busy with the Dregs and said maybe he knew you too well.

You yelled at him at the time and said that was absurd! He would never do anything to hurt you!

Strike four was falling under his spell.

Strike five was when he told you terrible things about yourself and you thought he was always right. He could do no wrong in your eyes.

Strike six was when he finally started beating you and you had just expected it at this point.

Strike seven was when you weren't allowed to go to school anymore.

Strike eight was when he wouldn't let you see anyone, not even your brother. But you never questioned it, he was basically a saint to you, why would you? Besides Jesper never seemed to have time for you anyways.

Strike nine was when he cheated on you and told you you had to be better.

Strike ten was when he started raping you.

Then one day he was worse than usual and you grabbed the hot poker from the fire pit, that he had used to beat you before, and you had told him to stay away.

Then you ran.

It was the straw the broke the camel's back, it was the saints giving up on him or maybe it was the saints giving up on you.

You didn't care, you were free.

You made one promise that day, that you would never love again.

You learned quickly what Ketterdam was like even before you had meant him, so perhaps that was why it was so easy to become the Blackbird. The girl who never smiled, the girl who only lived only for revenge. The monster that will wipe your existence off of the earth like it was nothing. The ghost that will haunt you when your sins line up too high.

Eventually, you joined the dregs and you connected with your brother once again and he knew something was wrong the moment he felt your presence. He didn't believe you were the Blackbird, the girl who terrorized the streets of Ketterdam.

But he learned to accept it, they all did except for that blasted Brekker boy.

With your time in the Dregs, you had slowly begun to form something with Kaz but you quickly remembered your promise to yourself and you let him go.

Although you don't like to admit it, the Crows had become your friends - family even. You would do anything to protect them even though it didn't seem like it. You were you though, and that was being afraid to even semi-connect with them. Of course, you were, because you were growing a bit too fond of Kaz Brekker and last time that lead you to a fate worse than death.

So you distanced yourself for a while to recollect your thoughts and if you really wanted to stay with them. Did they ever manipulate you? No. Then you came back and you stayed, maybe you weren't the perfect friend or a very good one at all but the Crows knew you even considering to stay was a blessing all in itself.

They were always so patient with you even Kaz, especially Kaz, and you never gave anything in return to them. Guilt would often cloud your mind when you were near them but they were always so amazing something you could never be.

But one day they came to their breaking point.

Killing people wasn't anything new for them, much less you killing people but coming back with a bloodied body and losing contact with them for weeks was probably not the same as just 'killing.'

Jesper pulls you by your bicep into Kaz's office with the other Crows following behind. You stumble in as Kaz slams the door shut being the last one in the room. They stare at you with beady eyes almost like the ones on the infamous birds around the Slat.

"What the fuck Y/n!" Jesper finally yells. Everyone around doesn't even bother to tell him to lower his voice their faces held the same anger that Jes's did.

Silence drowns you in its ocean keeping you in its waters. A chain is wrapped around your throat as you sink deeper and deeper into its depths. You try and swim away, run like you always had before, but the weight around your neck is too heavy, too dense and it slowly drowns you.

You just shrugged your shoulders. How could you explain all that you went through? Why would you want to?

"We can't just brush this off Y/n, we always do, but you crossed a line," Wylan states calmly but firmly at the same time putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder trying to ease the tension in the room.

You laugh, you hadn't even been walking a line at all. No, you had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop as they created a chalk line at how far you could go. Balling your hands into fits you snarl, they have been keeping you back. Maybe it's a good thing but you didn't want to admit it.

What about Kaz? A voice whispers in the back of your head.

Your eyes travel to his form in the back. He's leaning on the wall slightly but also using his cane to make himself look up-right. The darkness in the back compliments his angular features making them stand out as if saying he was above you. And to most people he probably was and he deserved that position.

But it didn't matter to you, he was just Kaz to you. Even if you saw him as someone... Important in your life, nevertheless he didn't matter. He was just another powerful man drawing a line that you couldn't cross as the line became smaller and smaller till you were trapped against a wall with nowhere to go.

When you first became the Blackbird, you climbed up that wall, you knew what was going to happen next. And you would never let anyone do that to you again.

"If you think I crossed the 'line' then your wrong." Your voice started out light-hearted (never does a fake smile crawl on your face though) but slowly became menacing and terrifying.

You spin of your heels turning to Jesper. "You've kept me in a cage giving me freedom but always locking me back up in the night."

You turn to Wylan and you mock his voice from earlier. "It was only a matter of time before I would break out." Your eyes lock onto Kaz's and your voice softens while you look at him.

"You knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. A bird needs to stretch its wings somehow."

"That doesn't mean you get to cut off communication with us for weeks than bringing in a body all bloodied. What you said before doesn't even explain why you did that Y/n," Inej says quietly.

You growl and the people closest to you jump back a little.

"Oh, what are you going to do, kick me out? Half of your businesses wouldn't have even succeeded without me!"

Jesper balls his hands into fists. "Gee for fuck's sake Y/n would just tell us!"

"HE'S THE REASON I'M A MONSTER!"

Your shout makes everyone freeze in their place and there it is again. The overbearing silence that takes over everything with its darkness. Running threw out the room, swirling around you and making it impossible for you to even hear anything other than your own terrible thoughts of madness.

But one voice isn't in your head of that hyena howling at you no, it's real and you can hear it among the darkness. You close your eyes listening in and hearing something other than darkness.

"Y/n." Your eyes snap open and you meet Kaz's eyes and you feel something dangerously close to relief.

"Everyone else out."

The Crows file out of the room one by one following Kaz's order. Everyone leaves but Jesper hesitates at the door and you see your broken armour trying to come back to you again and although it's harsh he wasn't there when he should have been. You understood that he had other problems he needed to sort out but you were his little sister.

You were supposed to stick up for each other.

"Out." Your voice would sound cold to anyone else but to Jesper, it sounds tired and unhappy. Lonely also however it has a hit of love and revenge as well.

The taller brother just sighs though and close's the door.

Kaz's eyes meet yours and your hands start to fidget with the cuffs of your bloodied shirt.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Willing you to spill information with just a glance. Any God would fall prey to those eyes and they would disclose all their knowledge while also thanking him in the end.

Kaz Brekker had something more powerful than Godly power over you.

So you couldn't help but tell him the real more dark story behind the Blackbird, he had already told you his so maybe, just maybe you could trust him.

"Do you know the Story of the Blackbird?" Your voice rings out against the muteness of the room fighting against it for once in your miserable life.

Kaz nods his head showing you that he knew. Of course, he knew it, was Brekker he probably knows every single version by heart.

"And I assume you know it's about me?"

Rolling his eyes but nodding once again.

You hesitate, knowing that after this you couldn't go back. That these next few words could change everything and why are you even telling this to the bastard of the barrel?

Because you love him.

It's simple and you promised yourself you would never love again but possibly that promise wasn't real because perhaps you never really loved that hyena. Some form of peace has definitely come from killing him, but maybe there's more to moving on from trauma than just revenge.

So with those thoughts in mind, the words tumble out of your mouth and you wouldn't be able to stop them even if you tried.

"Around the time where Jesper was just starting in the Dregs I had gotten a boyfriend. He was... Well, he was the perfect boyfriend but looking back he was too perfect. Basically fake, he was a manipulator and he knew me like the back of his hand. He knew where to press and I was under the impression that he could do nothing wrong." You pause to take a breath but you don't look up from your spot on the floor.

"It started with the small things like little insults thrown my way, but then it grew into bigger things like calling me a slut and what not. I wasn't even surprised when he started beating me."

Your eyes slowly come off the floor and they travel up Kaz's body but never meeting his eyes. You didn't want to see the disappointment that would be held in those eyes. That was inevitable.

"Then every day it started to get worse till he-" You cut yourself off and your legs wobble underneath you and as you collapsed Kaz jetted out and caught you before you could fall.

Tears were running down your face as you gripped Kaz's shirt as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bed. He place's you down and slides in beside you yet there was a good distance between the two of you. But it still gave you comfort and for the first time in a while, you didn't question why it did, you just went with it already knowing the reason why.

You loved him it was as simple as that.

"Then he-" You choked on a sob again and you bring your knees to your chest.

"You don't have to say it." He says gently nothing like what that hyena used to do to you.

"Noah used to rape me." The words come out in a blur and the tight feeling in your chest slowly falls apart and for the first time in a while, you truly feel like a Blackbird - free. Stuttering to breathe in a realization comes to your mind; Noah that monster will never hurt you ever again.

"Oh, my Saints! He's dead!" You cover your mouth with your hand and you lean back onto the headboard tears of happiness smear down your face. You don't laugh though but you feel even clearer than before. You could get used to this feeling.

Slowly you look over to Kaz and you realize the two of you were broken souls beyond repair and maybe just maybe that's what you needed. Perhaps that's what you both need, each other.

"Thank you." You whisper and the ends of Kaz's mouth curl's up a bit into what looks like is almost a smile but not quite. You would get there too one day.

===========TIME SKIP 4 Months======================

You jump from the rooftop gliding through the air and landing on the window sill of Kaz's office. You tilt your head to the side affectionately as you see The Crows getting ready for a heist only they're really just fooling around. Everyone but Kaz of course, he's in his desk chair drawing out some maps.

And they tell you you overwork! Hypocrites.

You open the window silently and you slip into the room unnoticed. You tiptoe over to Kaz's desk and you leap on top.

Kaz raises his eyebrow at you and you just shrug your shoulders, he probably had to stop anyways.

"You know there are other ways to get my attention other than acting like a child?"

"Oh, I know this is just more effective." You playfully respond.

Before Kaz could continue with the banter Jesper interject's just realizing you were here grabbing everyone's attention and placing it on you. Still not a fan of that.

"How the hell did you get from that rooftop to that window!" Jesper points outside in a slightly worried, big brother voice.

So you look him dead in the eyes and say; "I flew."

Jesper laughs along with the rest of The Crows but they stop at your deadpan look on your face.

"You didn't really?!"

"No, I didn't." You roll your eyes, "I didn't even think you knew that I did that."

Jesper comes over and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you immediately tense up.

"I do know some tricks! I am your older brother after all." His tone does get a few octaves of sombre at the end remembering the memories of how he didn't protect you before. But he's here now so you guess that's all matter's now.

You scoot off the desk out of his arm range but you do send him a sorry glance. The memories were just too much to handle sometimes. He just sends me a tiny knowing smile and nods and walk's off quietly (for the first time in his life) over to Wylan.

You watch everyone interact and it almost brings a smile to your face but something is missing and you wonder what it is.

Your question is quickly answered though as Kaz stands up beside you. His ungloved hand slowly garb's onto yours's and slowly you intertwine your fingers together.

"You really are the leader of a bunch of idiots." You say as Nina dares your brother to down a whole bucket paint.

"Yes, that's what it seems."

"But we love them." And for the first time in a while, you smile and it's not full-blown, it's tiny yet it has the whole galaxy in there.

"Yes, Yes I do." But Kaz isn't looking at The Crows he's looking at you.

Words 3517

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover

[ritualslaughter]

so I mentioned seeing a terrible take saying shigaraki was beyond saving because he willingly murdered his father, and I was gonna leave it be but actually I'm still pissed off about it so here goes nothing:

Shigaraki Tomura, Unreliable Narrator or: Why Shimura Tenko Did Not Intentionally Kill His Father

tw for talks of child abuse - physical, emotional, and psychological - below the cut

okay, so - the aforementioned flaming bad take is obviously based on these caps:

these are taken from 236, when we learn about tomura's (or rather, tenko's, because I think there needs to be a distinction between the two in this case) childhood. from the outset, this seems cut and dry - if you don't read anything other than this, I would excuse you for thinking this is just another case of "crazy kid seeks bloodlust, kills family."

I'm here to tell you why that's a load of bullshit.

okay, let's cover some bases, and talk a little bit about child psychology:

During their development between the age of two to five, children do not understand that death is irreversible. [x]

as we learn in 235, tenko is five when his quirk begins to manifest - his skin starts to dry around his eyes, he develops an itch, and we can assume shortly afterwards is when the actual decay quirk forms.

as stated above, preschool aged children do not have the same concept of death as adults; they think of death as temporary, even fixable. this is how you get children saying things like "but how can grandma breathe all the way down there?" and "did it hurt when they burned daddy?"; to a preschool aged child, death is akin to taking a trip - it is something that can be returned from. [x]

to say that tenko - a child of five years old who has already gone through abuse (a common effect - even in cases where the abuse is not physical - of which being stunted emotional growth/development, and in particular difficulty understanding the consequences of their actions [x] [x] [x]) understands the finality of death enough to comprehend the consequences of a quirk that has only just developed, immediately after the trauma of physical abuse from his father and then unwillingly causing the death of the rest of his family, is absolutely absurd.

"but he said he knew what he was doing!" you say.

now we're really getting into the meat of this, let's talk about a couple reasons as to why shigaraki tomura is an unreliable narrator.

tomura - not tenko, because it's important to remember this is shigaraki that is recounting these events to us - does say that he believes that in some way he did this on purpose.

however, I am once again going to bring our friend context back into the equation.

shigaraki tomura has undergone serious indoctrination by all for one for the majority of his life, the majority of which being in his formative years, and especially regarding this particular event. the entirety of afo's introduction in regards to tomura's origin story literally revolves around the death of his family and his "itch to kill," so let's talk about some ways in which afo might have affected tomura's perception of that day:

1. forgotten memories

this is the most out there, and the most tinhat-ty of the theories, so I'm getting it out of the way first. I think it's worth it to put in here anyway, because it does still touch on afo's overwhelming influence, but this is pretty much all speculation.

in 237, tomura mentions the memories of "that day" being repressed up until his fight with re destro when they come back to him. the theory is that these memories - and by proxy, the feelings that came with them - were placed into his head by afo as a child, and are not reflective of his actual actions/feelings.

like I said, I think this is the weakest argument in this particular context, but it would explain some of the convenient events (i.e. the grandson of shimura nana, the one person afo wants on his side, just so happening to kill his family) that lead to tenko meeting afo. it's an interesting idea, and one I like, but it's not the one we're gonna focus on for this argument.

2. a helping hand

sit back and watch me girlboss and gatekeep this shit, cause this is where we really start to talk about gaslighting.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse where a person or group makes someone question their sanity, perception of reality, or memories. [x]

regardless of whether afo orchestrated the death of tenko's family as posed in the above theory or not, it's irrefutable that he is the first and only person to to offer tenko support following the incident. this puts afo in a position of power and worship over tenko, which is the perfect breeding ground for this type of psychological abuse.

afo praises tenko, tells him he's powerful, and that he's proud of him, gives him his name, and assures him that it's okay to want to hurt the people who have hurt him, and not only that, but that they deserve it when he does.

afo creates an environment where tenko/tomura worships the ground he walks on, then builds the narrative that the ones who hurt us deserve to be punished. so why would tomura, who blatantly in the text says he felt immense guilt for killing his family, not try to lessen that guilt by saying they deserved it?

3. scratching the itch

"but what about the itchiness? he said it went away when he killed his father, it's obviously tied to his need to decay, he can't be saved if his instinct is to destroy!"

I'm going to pose a little theory here: tomura's itchiness is not a symptom of his quirk. it's a psychosomatic disorder caused by the abuse from his father, and then later heightened by the abuse he received at the hands of afo.

Psychosomatic disorder [is a] condition in which psychological stresses adversely affect physiological (somatic) functioning to the point of distress. [x]

tenko's itching starts near enough to the development of his quirk that it's pretty easy to see why the two might be related, it's also shown to be in DIRECT correlation with any time his father verbally or physically abuses him. the first time we see him itching, it's after his father drags him across the house. he also says in the text that it (his face) "gets itchy when I'm at home," meaning it mainly manifests in environments his father is in.

afo abuses this knowledge, and turns it into a weapon used to create the "symbol of fear" he's always wanted - he tells tomura that holding back will only intensify the itch; he has to let go if he wants it to ever truly go away. the itching stopped when he killed his father (because finally, his abuser - the stressor for this reaction - was gone), so it must be natural! it must be natural for him to want to destroy, so he should follow his heart, and that will make afo proud.

and the only thing tomura has ever wanted to do was make afo proud.

let it be known, I'm not arguing any of this to take away tomura's agency or absolve him of his crimes - he absolutely has killed people knowingly, and with full consciousness. but the idea that tomura - or any child - was "born evil" or can never be saved because of actions done under extreme stress, and tainted by further psychological abuse, is fucked up, and it just straight up is not backed up by the text.

tomura's whole character is based on the fact that if someone had been there to save him, he would not have grown up to be the way he is today. to put the blame of his character on his quirk, or his personality, or just the fact he was born fucked up shows a blatant disregard for the themes of his character, and the themes of bnha as a whole.

no one is too far gone that they can't be saved. especially not a scared little kid looking for comfort when they never had any.