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diamondheartyux · 2 months ago

Text

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.

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roberrtphilip · 8 months ago

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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.

#ROBERT my pal robert.......#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙#robert philip #enchanted #impossibledial #ask #certified enchanted moment™️

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ritualslaughter · 4 years ago

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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.

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #bnha meta #shigaraki meta #tenko shimura #league of villains #all for one #i dropped out of my english degree cause i couldnt write anything that wasnt spiteful and angry #can you tell?#bones.writ #mha #mha meta #*vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear* yeah i love shigaraki tomura a normal amount #cant write an essay for school but i can spend four hours talking about how much i love this walking corpse boy #tw child abuse #tw childhood trauma #tw gaslighting #shigaraki

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umbry2000 · 5 months ago

Text

It's been a week, so I get to share Marsh's hilarious commentary on this fic (these still make me crack up.)

(What followed was a long conversation on the dynamics of making the person who broke into your house breakfast even if she is your childhood best friend.)

Below the cut are discussions on some inspirations and the general process for this fic!

As mentioned the original idea came from A Survey from God, which is... somehow six years old??? (I still remember listening to this pretty religiously when it first came out.) I was listening to it again during the finals grind when the idea came to me! Like wouldn't it be funny if someone who didn't believe in god or angels at all suddenly had one thrust upon them?

It was originally going to be just crack (perhaps you could tell from the tone of Day 1) but I could not resist adding plot... In the end I drew inspiration from Ano Hana and Three Days of Happiness. The final fic actually felt pretty similar in progression to what I remember of Three Days of Happiness, years after I read it. The absurd beginning where the protagonist can't help but laugh it all off, and the slow unravelling of all that has happened in both the character's pasts and learning to live with it. (This makes me want to reread Fafoo works again... Azure and Claude my beloved.) I hope I struck a proper balance between humour and more emotional moments qwq it was something I had a bit of a struggle with in the beginning.

Also here's a screenshot from the MV if you want a better look at the clothing :D

And here's the full list of 24 questions from the song! I was originally going to include 10 but I couldn't think of a full 10-day plot and a week flowed better, so a week it ended up being!

Do you like animals?

What is your hobby?

What are your favourite dishes?

When was your first relationship?

Do you get along well with your family?

Are you following politics?

What would you do if you were to die tomorrow?

Do you enjoy studying?

Are you doing your best at work?

Do you find it hard to get along with others?

Are you sleeping well at night?

Are you doing the things you want to do?

Do you have any dreams to chase after?

Are you lying to yourself?

When you need someone to talk to, is anyone there for you?

Have you ever thought you were needless to others?

Are you laughing from the bottom of your heart?

Can you cry out loud when you feel like crying?

Do you hate anyone in life?

Do you support wars?

Has anyone betrayed you?

Have you forgiven anyone before?

How do you define love?

Do you believe in God?

A Survey from the Goddess

Summary:

Congratulations!

You have been chosen to partake in a survey from the Goddess.

For seven days starting from tomorrow, an angel shall accompany you, asking you a question per day.

Please think carefully about your answers - there is much the Goddess does not know.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia

Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel

Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving

Rating: G

Word Count: 9018

Mirror Link: AO3

Original Post Date: 14/06/2024

Notes:

A modern AU which started as a crack fic and gained a plot by the end :) Original concept from A Survey From God by rerulili!

~~~

DAY 0

"What in the...?" Lloyd stared at the card that had been slotted between two mundane letters. It was surprisingly fancy, the material sturdy and staying firm beneath his fingers as his thumb swiped across its texture. There was a golden seal stamped on the front, tickling at a long-buried memory at the back of his mind. Were those wings?

“How in the world did Zelos get into my mail?” he muttered, furrowing his brow as he flipped it over and found that the other side spouted nonsense. This had to be a prank. There was no other explanation, but this was a lot of effort to go to for a simple prank.

Tossing the card onto a corner of the tiny dining table in his dim dorm room, he pushed it out of his mind, opting to return to his bedroom and catch up on some assignments before the start of summer proper.

DAY 1

Massaging his temples as he stepped out of the dingy lift that groaned behind him, he headed towards the door to his room. It was late enough that he was the only one shambling down the corridor, though most of the doors he passed still had light spilling out from beneath them, revealing that most of his dorm mates were still up, burning the midnight oil in this city that never slept.

Hopefully he could stave off the pending headache. Zelos had been a pain for the entire evening, refusing to admit any part he had to play in breaking into the dorm’s mailbox and claiming that was impossible. Then he proceeded to get drunker and drunker, leaving Lloyd to deal with his increasingly insane antics while Sheena laughed at his expense and didn’t lift a finger to help. Tonight's only saving grace was Sheena being the one to take Zelos home. If he’d had to do it he might have murdered his friend on the way, fed up with his laments on the woes of love. Knowing his luck, he'd have been haunted by Zelos' annoying ghost for the rest of his life, nothing able to shut him up.

Fumbling with his keys and being very grateful that he’d decided to stop drinking once Zelos had started clinging to him like a particularly depressed koala, he swung open the front door.

And froze with one foot in the room, eyes widening as he stared at the tiny attached balcony. Most nights it was empty, not a soul occupying it. On other nights, when he failed to find the solace of sleep, he might spend an hour or two sitting there, shoulders hunched as he stared out at the city skyline, hoping the chilly night air would clear his head. Tonight, however, there was someone already there, another soul encroaching in his residence.

“Oh, you’re here!” A girl with hair like spun gold clapped her hands together, blue eyes sparkling. “We can finally get started!”

Slam.

At some point, he’d managed to get his whole body into the room and closed the door behind him, but even the deafening banging sound didn’t dispel the image before him. There was still a girl that he had never met before in his life standing on his balcony, her unearthly beauty illuminated by the countless lights of this sleepless city.

Neither was it making the wings that extended from her back, covered in feathers that ruffled in the slight breeze and bathed in soft shadows, vanish from sight.

Darkness was beginning to creep into the corner of his vision as he continued to stare, unable to tear his gaze away.

Alright. So maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d thought. Maybe both he and Zelos were passed out cold and Sheena would kill them tomorrow morning after giving them a rude awakening.

“Here’s the first question: do you like animals?” she asked cheerfully, oblivious to the thoughts that were rattling around in his head at top speed and crashing uselessly into each other.

“Yes,” he answered faintly, before crumpling to the floor.

DAY 2

Consciousness came to him slowly, in bits and pieces, his surroundings constructing themselves around him as his senses came back to life. A familiar melody floated through the air, hummed softly by a gentle voice that tugged at the strings of his heart. His head rested against a comfortable surface, and there was a hand running through his hair, soothing his anxious heart as the faint scent of spring embraced him.

He didn’t feel like waking up, not while he rested so peacefully, the nightmare that was last night having passed. But a persistent feeling that something was wrong hounded him. Sheena wouldn't let him sleep in - she'd have murdered him if he didn't wake up to help her with breakfast, most likely with a pillow to the head with all of her strength funnelled into her arms. And she certainly never hummed.

He opened his eyes.

Periwinkle blue eyes blinked innocently down at him, a hand stilling in his hair. “Good morning,” the girl from yesterday whispered, her golden hair falling around his face, almost close enough to tickle his skin, forming a veil that shielded him from the first rays of the morning sun.

He would forever deny the screech that left his throat at that moment as he scrambled out of her lap, moving so abruptly that he slammed his head against the wall. Slumping with a groan, he rubbed the patch of skin that would most certainly bruise in a few hours, squinting at the intruder.

Did alcoholic delusions last till the next morning? Or had he finally snapped, losing the battle against the many stresses of university?

“Are you alright?”

“W - who are you?” he croaked in a wholly unflattering voice, his throat terribly dry as he tried to inch further away. It would've been a relief to declare her wings nothing more than a tacky Halloween prop, but one glance at them was enough to dispel that notion - they shifted together with her in a way that couldn't be described as anything but alive, flapping anxiously and causing feathers to peel off and flutter through the air in a shower of white.

“Did you not get the letter? I’m your assigned messenger from the Goddess, here to give you the survey!” Her wings drooped, lips drawing into a disappointed pout.

“A… a letter?” And a survey? This was one of the most absurd things he had ever heard! (Why did it ring a bell? And why did she seem so strangely familiar?)

“Wait. This thing?” he yelped, grabbing the forgotten card still balancing on the edge of the dining table. Its vibrant colours had not faded over the span of two days, still giving off the same sense of grand decorum.

“Yes!” She perked up again, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see it reached you. This is my first time doing this, and I already arrived late yesterday, so I thought I might have forgotten to send it.”

“You mean Zelos really wasn’t lying?” he whispered in mounting horror, rising in his throat. That meant all of this was real, somehow. Which meant that angels were real, which would mean -

He pushed himself to his feet abruptly, refusing to let that train of thought run any further, knowing it would only result in a cataclysmic crash. “It’s too early in the morning to deal with this. I’m going to make some breakfast.”

~~~

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I don’t need to eat!” The girl protested as he slid a plate of toast in front of her, even as she stared at the food with the expression of someone who had been starved for days, eyes sparkling like she was looking at the world's greatest delicacy.

“Just take it,” he grumbled, settling down with his own plate of charred toast, the black bits flaking off. It had been his standard breakfast fare ever since he'd started living here in this dorm alone. Not particularly appetizing, but good enough to propel him through the day.

“Thank you so much!” She proceeded to scarf it down like she was a famished wolf, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

“So, you're really a…” He gave her a once-over, taking in her attire. At first glance, one might mistake her for a schoolgirl. She was dressed the part in an outfit reminiscent of a girl’s school uniform, a messenger’s bag slung over her shoulder and pressing against her hip. Her long golden hair was neat, a tiny braid dangling next to her right cheek, secured with a blue ribbon.

That illusion could only hold if one ignored her wings, which in the light of the sun were even more breathtaking than they had been yesterday, covered to the brim in downy white feathers that he couldn't help but yearn to touch. They were tucked behind her now, giving a little shiver with each bite of toast she took, but if she were to stretch them out to their full length, they could likely fill the entire corridor.

“Angel?” She pushed her now emptied plate towards him, bowing her head in gratitude. “Yes, I am an angel! I will be with you for the following six days, and every day I will ask you a question, as mandated by the Goddess. Thank you so much for the food. It was delicious.”

He marvelled at the fact that she could utter those words with a straight face. She probably didn't even realise that her very presence had torn his world down to its foundations and was now reshaping it, piece by jagged piece.

“It's just burned toast…” he mumbled in confusion. “How did you even get in here?” Unless he had forgotten to lock his door on his way out yesterday afternoon, which was highly unlikely, there had been no way in apart from somehow passing through solid wall. At this point, he wouldn't even be surprised.

“I flew up to your balcony!"

Choking on his next bite, he barely managed to catch the spew of crumbs with his hand. Flew up to his balcony? Wouldn't that mean everyone had seen -

“Don't worry! You're the only one who can see me!”

His shoulders sagged and he buried his face in his hands, groaning in agony. Scratch the morning, he'd never be ready to deal with any of this. But if she was going to be sticking around for a whole week, which seemed likely given she was still not disappearing no matter how hard he blinked, then he'd just have to find some way to handle all of this. Might as well humour her and complete this strange survey and hope that would have the promised effect of getting her out of his life.

“Alright. What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one!”

“Uh…” He scrambled for something else to say, slightly afraid that if he offended her, she'd smite him with lightning or something equally ridiculous. But she didn’t appear upset, her smile just as serene as before, her hands remaining calmly in her lap. “What… What’s today’s question?” He gathered their plates and practically ran to the sink in a bid to escape the awkward cloud hovering over them that it seemed only he could sense. Only to be met with the stack of dishes from yesterday that he had yet to deal with, a tiny tower wobbling precariously that threatened to topple and leave him with a pile of shattered porcelain at any time. With a sigh, he readied the soap, continuing to keep an eye on his “guest”.

“Hm…” She bit her lip, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a roll of parchment that she slowly began to unroll - only for it to keep going and going, until the end of it nearly hit his feet. How had that even fit in her tiny bag? Why was he even bothering to think about this? “Day 2, day 2, day 2… Ah! Here it is. Are you sleeping well at night?”

Nearly dropping the plate in hand and introducing his feet to the sharp bite of porcelain, he turned to fully face her, incredulous, soap suds sliding off his hand. “That’s a random question.” He was expecting something more along the lines of ‘What are your personal beliefs on reincarnation’. Then again, she'd asked him about animals last night, hadn't she? What was even the goal of this survey?

“There is much the Goddess doesn’t know and that she wishes to learn." The angel beamed, once more clapping her hands together. "Take as much time as you need to answer!”

Returning to running the plate under the sink, he pondered the question for a moment. He still didn’t get it. Why would some hypothetical Goddess, sitting on her grand throne up in the untouchable sky, want to know about something as mundane as sleeping patterns? “I’m just like most people. There are some nights when I can’t sleep, but for the most part, I do just fine.”

Some nights he lay flat on his bed and blearily stared at the ceiling, thoughts running tired laps in his mind and refusing to dissipate. Thoughts about the choices he had made to find his way to this very point in time, about the dreams he was trying to chase, about the many encounters and farewells he had experienced. The refuge of sleep would evade him, even as exhaustion blurred his vision.

But that was neither here nor there, tiny moments that would go unnoticed, buried by the rapid flow of time in this city that stopped for no one, charging onwards forevermore like a runaway train. By the morning, he would not be refreshed, but he would keep trudging onwards, for that was all he could do to avoid being left behind.

Pulling out a slip of paper, she procured a feather pen out of thin air to rapidly scribble on it before throwing it into the air. It vanished in a bright explosion of light, leaving blue sparks to fizz out.

He barely flinched, his limit for absurdity having well and truly been met and overtaken. Rushing off to his room, he shot her one final glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be in my room. You can just… stay here, I suppose.”

Closing the door on her face as the smile dropped from it, he heaved a sigh of relief when he was met with the normalcy of his messy bedroom. Stationery and papers were scattered everywhere, his bed pushed into a corner, and his laptop buried under a sweater that had been haphazardly thrown over it. There were no signs at all of magically-appearing angels.

Perhaps if he kept his contact with her to a minimum, he could pretend that everything was the same as it’d always been, forcing down the strange traces of recognition that flashed through his mind whenever she smiled at him that made his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Each time he passed the living room to grab a drink, he spotted her on the balcony - leaning against the railing with her hair caught in the wind, sitting cross-legged with her head resting against the wall, padding across the floor as she ran her fingers across the narrowly-spaced grills. It appeared she had found her retreat, staring down at the streets below and the people passing by with undisguised longing on her face.

In the fragile quiet, he was no longer able to ignore that there was something familiar about her, an invisible thread tied securely around his heart that found its other end around her wrist, relentlessly tugging him towards her. An itch came alive under his skin whenever he gazed upon her visage, an echo of something that was no longer within his reach.

That night, sleep claimed him after hours of fitful tossing and turning, plunging him into dreams that were nothing more than quick dashes of colour against a canvas, lacking details. A girl, face blurry as she held her hand out to grasp the moon, her shining eyes the colour of the lazy summer sky they had become friends under, her brown hair pooling around her head where she lay on the grass. Beneath the weight of that muggy summer night, they had talked of dreams, the words flowing out of him as easy as breathing. He had shifted closer as the moon rose higher, drawn in by the shy, sweet smile on her face as his hand had found hers, their fingers tangling together.

He awoke to rays of sunlight falling gently on his face, tears stinging in his eyes as he reached blindly for things he had lost long ago.

DAY 3

When he stumbled into the living room, she was already seated on the sofa, once more reading diligently from that long roll of parchment. In his sleep-addled state, it took him a few scans of the room to discover what had mysteriously changed overnight. The separate piles of mail scattered around had congregated into a single neat one, the floor entirely bereft of feathers and every surface spotless, devoid of dust.

“Did you clean all of this up?” he asked, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes, thoroughly impressed. “You didn’t have to.”

“I had nothing better to do,” she answered, blue eyes raising to meet his. “I don’t need to sleep.”

Guilt slammed heavily into him, shame burning in his stomach for having ignored her for a whole day and for his plans to continue doing so for the rest of their time together. From what she’d said, it’s not like she’d asked to be assigned this job either, and anyone with eyes could tell she was lonely. The least he could do was not shut her out and make this any harder than it needed to be.

“I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Oh.” It was almost impossible to catch the flicker of disappointment across her face that was quickly covered up, but her drooping wings betrayed her true emotions. Faced with such a sight, how could he possibly refuse reaching out a hand to her to answer her silent plea? Besides, it would give him an opportunity to try and confirm his suspicions.

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed, averting his gaze to the practically sparkling floor. “Do you… want to come with me?”

In an instant, she had shot right next to him in a blur of feathers. Jumping on the balls of her feet in infectious enthusiasm, her wings flared, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Can I? Can I really?” Her face was pushed dangerously close to his - at this distance, he could count every fleck of darker blue scattered among her eyes, strikingly familiar.

“Yes!” he blurted out, taking a hurried step back to put some much-needed space between them, heat flooding his cheeks. “Come on.”

~~~

It appeared that she had spoken nothing but the truth - nobody could see her. Even in the middle of the day, the streets were still fairly packed, passersby ranging from cheerfully chattering students to working adults rushing to their destinations. Regardless of who they were, they parted around her like a river would part around a boulder, not even sparing her a second glance. Not even when she exclaimed at the top of her lungs, her gaze flitting from location to location a hundred miles a minute. Even the most mundane of sights like a simple traffic light captured her full attention, and he didn’t have the heart to drag her away, simply watching in amusement as she ran in circles around the pole, eyes glimmering in wonder.

She was also incredibly clumsy, constantly tripping over uneven parts of the pavement, stray cans, or empty air, instantly shattering the image of the graceful angel she had been trying very hard to maintain this whole time. He constantly had to catch her before she thudded face-first into hard concrete, her thanks spilling out of her as her wings twitched in embarrassment, trying their very best to hide her flushed face.

From observation, her wings seemed like an extension of her. They flapped erratically whenever her heart soared with happiness, drooped when sadness weighed on her shoulders, tucked into small shapes behind her when pale red dusted her cheeks. To be honest, it was rather… cute.

“Here.” He sat down on a wooden bench, patting the spot next to him until she took it, giving her wings a little shake. The trees in the park were starting to show the first signs of autumn, orange and browns beginning to overtake fresh green as a faint chill began to fill the air. “Have this.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to!” she parroted her words from yesterday as she accepted a little paper bag containing a piping hot potato croquette, steam still rising from it. From experience, he knew it was delectable, and the tempting scent wafting off it was enough to make his mouth water.

“It’s better than burned toast,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. But he couldn’t help but break out into a smile as she took a big bite and then let out a squeak of “Hot!”, blowing on her tongue. Adorable.

“So what’s today’s question?” he asked into the silence that had fallen, watching the wind rip leaves from branches, depositing them on the dirt, which was rapidly being smothered by layers upon layers of trampled leaves.

“Hm… Do you get along well with your family?” she asked between tiny nibbles, peering at him.

“Uh…” His fingers curled in his lap, his tongue suddenly stiff in his mouth. Where was he even supposed to begin with that question? There was so much to say, but his feelings regarding this matter had always been a complicated tangle that he’d never really been able to make heads-or-tails of, not for lack of trying. “I… guess? It’s just been me and my dad for a long time. Honestly, I don’t know how to describe our relationship. We’re not the closest, and there are a lot of times when we don’t see eye-to-eye.”

There was an awkward distance between them, a chasm that had seemed to widen over the year since he had come to this city. Whenever they met, his father never seemed to know what to say, leaving nothing but empty silence broken by stilted conversation as they struggled to understand each other, leaving him drained by the end. It had been that way for as long as he could remember, ever since illness had taken his mother when he was young, leaving his father to take care of him alone even as he travelled from place to place for work. Their circumstances had resulted in more than one heated argument stemming from the desperate anger that welled up within him as he continually uprooted himself from every life he ended up building for himself, even if he’d known deep down that it had never been his father’s fault. Perhaps grief had forced them both to withdraw, and when they were ready to emerge from the protective fortress they had built for themselves, they’d forgotten how to connect with each other.

But at the end of the day, he knew his father did care, even if his ways of doing so were sometimes hard to pick up on. He had always done his very best to provide for him and give him a good life. Even still…

“At this point, I’m not sure we can patch it up,” he admitted with a heavy heart. It seemed such a hopeless prospect, not with the yawning abyss that would need to be bridged.

“Well…” She chewed on her nail, having devoured the croquette, disregarding the way it burned her tongue. “You still have a long life ahead of you, don’t you? That’s all the time in the world to get to know each other better. It won’t be easy, and sometimes it’ll feel like pulling teeth, but it’s possible. So you don’t have to give up now.”

“That’s… surprisingly good advice.” He squinted at her, slightly confused that those words of wisdom, delivered with such an encouraging tone that he was beginning to sway towards the notion that it truly was possible, had emerged from someone who gave off the impression that she had never experienced human nature before.

“That’s just how I feel. If it helps you, then I’m glad.” Shrugging, she flashed him a sheepish smile, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he answered, picking at his jeans, the warmth of her hand sinking into his body and gradually finding its way to his heart, wrapping it in a soft blanket. “Maybe I can try.” All the walls between him and his father were daunting, but perhaps with the memory of her words, he might find the strength to overcome them someday.

“So, um… Is it alright if I give you a name?” He broached the subject carefully, unsure if it was some kind of taboo for angels. For all he knew, it could be.

“Why?”

“I’d feel bad to keep referring to you with no name,” he mumbled, face aflame. Especially when she kept helping him, intentionally or not. It was the least he could do to repay her boundless kindness, fitting of a benevolent angel.

“Sure.” She shrugged nonchalantly, blue eyes curious as she waited with bated breath.

“Uh, well…” He took a deep breath, remembering another girl from a lifetime ago that he’d thought he would never see again, not after her untimely departure. She’d been much the same as the angel before him now - always cheerful, reaching out a helping hand without a second thought, endlessly dedicated to her faith. Perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree, attempting in vain to keep the candle flame of hope alive that he should have snuffed out ages ago, unable to muster up the strength to abandon the promise they’d made together. But there were so many similarities that it was starting to drive him mad trying to keep his thoughts from running wild, even if he could no longer remember her face well enough to match it to the one across from him now. Familiarity pooled in his heart, so much of it that it threatened to force its way through its walls and spill out onto his trembling hands. It was like the ghost that had haunted him for much of his life from the corners of his vision - the sway of her hair, the sound of her carefree laughter that had long since rusted in his memory - had been given a flesh-and-blood form once more.

He could recall her name, written in a child’s messy scrawl on a crumpled piece of paper he still possessed, holding the final remnants of a heartfelt dream he was still incapable of giving up. “How about Colette?”

When she wrapped her arms around him, her wings reaching to embrace him as well, the breath left him in a slow exhale, the tension leaking from his shoulders. The two of them fit together perfectly, and he relaxed into the hold that his very soul recognised, the imprint of it having never faded.

“I love that name,” she whispered as his cheek pressed against her shoulder, her hand coming to rest comfortingly on the back of his head. “Thank you.”

DAY 4

“Do you need any help with that?” he asked over his cup of warm milk, perfect to relax his mind before turning in.

“Hm?” Colette’s reply was delayed, distracted as she was, attempting to contort her arm to pluck a feather that was frustratingly out of reach. She’d been grooming her wings for the past thirty minutes and growing increasingly more frustrated as she failed to reach some out-of-the-way spots, the frown on her face becoming more and more pronounced as her wings lashed out, liable to break something. “Uh, sure.”

“Tell me if I’m pulling too hard, alright?” He sat down next to her as she turned to give him unfettered access to her wings, stretching them out as wide as they would go. Suppressing his awed gasp at the full length of them, he was finally able to see exactly how they could support her weight. The sight of her soaring through the skies must be something indeed, and he yearned to see it - would her clumsiness carry even into the Heavens, or would she be the very picture of elegance?

“Thanks,” she mumbled as he got to work, something bright blooming in his heart knowing that she trusted him with what was clearly a vulnerable part of her. Running his hands over her wings, he could feel the hard bones that lay beneath as he tugged gently at old, grey feathers to pull them out, adding them to the growing pile by the sofa, and smoothing out feathers that were out of alignment. “I usually have someone help me.”

“I can imagine.” Her feathers were soft, his fingers getting lost within their endless sea of white - he almost wanted to never leave. She was practically melting beneath his touch, once more humming that same tune she had when he had first woken up with his head resting in her lap. It almost seemed like she’d fall asleep, for even if she didn’t need to, surely she still needed to rest. “What’s today’s question?”

“Are you doing the things you want to do?”

He froze mid-way through pulling out a feather, a tremor racking his hand. Swallowing, he completed the motion, slowly backing away from her. It felt like ice had grown over his heart, brittle and about to crack.

“I… I think so. Honestly, I… I don’t know.” He smiled a little bitterly, worrying at the feather in hand, avoiding her curious gaze. “Sorry that I don’t have the definitive answer.”

He was here, in this massive city which he had once called home with his mother, unable to recover the easy joy he had once felt in faded memories that he could barely dredge up, back when things used to be much simpler. Working himself to the bone for the sake of a dream that may not grant him a future, chasing the stars like a child that had yet to grow up, reaching desperately for those glinting, inhuman lights. Surrounded by throngs of people that didn’t know his name, feeling nothing but tiny and insignificant.

Some days, he felt like a fool chasing nothing more than a mirage, the ashes of his dream falling between his fingers as he questioned whether any of this would be worth it. But there were spots of bright happiness, moments when he reaffirmed his determination, deciding that he couldn’t give up. He would make his dream come true, for the sake of the friend that had been left behind in happy summer days.

“That’s alright,” she answered gently, turning to face him and placing a hand on his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, taking a shuddering breath as her voice washed over him, soothing his weary heart. There was no judgement, only a kind understanding that thawed the ice, chasing away the chill. “Nobody holds the answer to everything, even about themselves. There are no right or wrong answers. It’s like I said before - you’ll have the time to figure it out. I’m certain that you will, whether it be tomorrow or a year from now.”

Blinking away the tears that were suddenly pricking at the corners of his eyes, the words of thanks he wished to express stuck in his throat, he hid his face in his arm as her hand found its way to his back, giving it a comforting rub. Her appearance had granted him a miracle, one that he clung to with utmost gratitude, her encouraging words a shining beacon of light in a sea of uncertainty, saving him from drowning.

She said nothing more, only squeezed his hand, keeping him company.

DAY 5

“Lloyd! Wow, it’s been a while since I last saw you.” Sheena waved, peeling from a group of students and bounding over with a cheerful stride. She completely ignored Colette, who stared at her with wide eyes. “Did Zelos piss you off that badly? If he actually did cross a line, just tell me and I’ll take care of him for you.” The wicked grin on her face and the cracking of her knuckles sent a shiver down his back, and he quickly sent Zelos his prayers.

“No, it’s fine! All that wasn’t his fault.” Frantically, he waved his hands in denial. Hopefully, that would be enough to deter Sheena from murder. He would not be held responsible for that.

“If you say so. So, what brings you to campus today? Summer classes as well?” Sheena returned his nod in commiseration. “Hey, are you free next week to come over to my place? Zelos will be joining. We can compare assignments on our common mods and play a few rounds of Smash.”

Next week… He mentally checked his schedule, counting through the days. “I should be free, so sure.”

“Great.” She grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll send you more details later, I’d better get going. The professor for my next class will skin me alive if I’m late. See you later!”

And just like that, she was off, blending into the crowd of students headed into the school building before he could even blink. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but compare her to a whirlwind, never stopping and always on the move.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he told Colette, moving off towards his own destination. She followed behind him, a small smile on her face.

~~~

Colette kicked her feet back and forth, her face pressed against the library’s wide window. It afforded a wonderful view of the university courtyard, which even in autumn was filled to the brim with a myriad of flowers, painting colour into the drab environment.

Staring hard at the mathematical equations he was supposed to be deciphering, he found that the various symbols were starting to get mixed up in his head. “Ugh, that’s it, I need a break,” he groaned, massaging his temples and tossing down his pencil, which rolled until it was hanging dangerously over the side of the table. Joining Colette by the window, he pressed his shoulder against hers, her right wing giving him a friendly nudge. “How about you ask me your question now?”

She turned to look at him, blinking. “Alright. When you need someone to talk to, is anyone there for you?”

An invisible grip loosened from around his heart. He’d been anticipating a question on the same level as the previous two days, but this wouldn’t require the same level of soul-searching that had left him wrung out and emotionally exhausted, her presence the only thing grounding him.

His first instinct would have been to answer no, but looking even a little bit deeper instantly told him that this wasn’t true. While he’d never revealed most of the thoughts that simmered under the surface to his two friends, the time spent with them - playing video games, lamenting over homework and occasionally getting drunk together never failed to cheer him up. The two of them had been the ones to approach him and invite him to hang out with them, again and again and again, refusing to give up until they'd successfully battered down the walls he had erected. They picked up when he was feeling down and always tried their best to make him feel better - acting as anchors, keeping him from getting lost in the rapids.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was a simple answer, but it was the comforting truth.

She smiled silently, and returned to peering out the window.

DAY 6

“I win!” Colette cheered as she dropped the controller into the cushion resting in her lap, her wings flaring wide and smacking him in the head.

Rubbing the side of his head, he congratulated her once more, having long since lost count of how many times she’d claimed victory over the past thirty minutes. He’d suggested playing a few rounds of Smash to introduce her to video games, and tied a wager into the game - the loser would have to reveal something about themselves.

At first, he’d learned much about her, doing his best to quietly gather information. She’d been born nine years ago without any recollections of her past life like every other angel, and had finally been deemed ready by her mentor, a grumpy senior angel who held no love for humans, to take on her first assignment. Every word that fell from her lips only further confirmed his suspicions - the timeline matched up perfectly. Still, he found that the truth was too difficult to say aloud, getting lodged in his throat. To do so would be to open himself up to the possibility that he truly was delusional, desperately clutching onto a mirage that threatened to dissipate at any moment, unable to face the painful truth. For now, he was content to keep it close to his chest, the knowledge like a ball of warm light filling the void of grief he’d been carrying around for almost a decade.

He'd laughed out loud when she’d picked Pit to play, but she’d gotten terrifyingly good at the character and was now solidly beating him in every match. So he’d told her, detail by detail, about the friend he’d once made who had meant everything to him. The day they’d met by the river that ran behind the sleepy countryside town that she called home, an unflinchingly kind girl saying hello to a boy who had closed off his heart, not wanting to be hurt again. The nights they’d spent together as he taught her the names of the stars painted across the canvas of the night, and they confided in each other about their dreams, finding in each other the strength to make them come true one day. The promise she’d made to meet him again on the day he’d moved away, holding strong to the belief that it would happen regardless of the years that would pass and the distance that spanned between them, and the letters they’d exchanged until it had all come to a tragic end.

She absorbed it all with a thoughtful expression, her face betraying nothing of what she thought no matter how closely he watched it. It was infuriating, but he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from blurting out something stupid.

Searching for another fact to give out, he was interrupted by her clapping her hand over his mouth. Sputtering in shock, he did his best not to blush to the tips of his ears.

“How about you answer today’s question instead?” She smiled sweetly, removing her hand.

“Sure thing…” He eyed her suspiciously - did today’s question warrant such an action?

Her smile didn’t waver at all as she asked the next question, the words she uttered growing wings and crashing straight into his heart. “How do you define love?”

“Wh - what? T - that’s…” Words fell clumsily from his lips as he turned into a stuttering mess, tearing his gaze away from her, his previous efforts for naught as he felt his whole face grow hot. Surely he was red as a beet by now, embarrassment settling firmly in his chest. Had she purposely lowered his guard just to spring this question?

“It’s… something warm and encouraging,” he mumbled, the words coming to him easily with those halcyon days fresh on his mind, even if those memories were a decade old and faded at the corners. Regardless, she still shined bright no matter how many details about her got smudged, a light that never dimmed in a world that wouldn’t have hesitated to put it out. “It pushes you to be a better person. It carries you through your worst days, and makes your best ones all the better. But…”

Acrid doubt pooled on his tongue. “I was so young back then that I wouldn’t have known what it was, and it was only a year, so maybe -”

A firm finger on his lips forced him into silence, her wings forming a secure cocoon that enclosed them. Slicing a space out of the universe just for the two of them, and narrowing his world to just her.

“If you believe it to have been love, then that’s the most important thing, isn’t it?” she whispered, so close that he could feel the brush of her breath against his cheek. His heart racing, he could do nothing but stare into her vibrant blue eyes, drawing him in, her beauty otherwordly and stealing the breath from him. If he wanted to, he could reach out and run his fingers through her golden hair, he could press the palms of their hands together, he could lean his forehead against hers. There were so many things he could do, that his soul cried out for him to do, to press closer until there was no space between them at all.

He was acutely aware that tomorrow would be her final day on this earth before she returned to whence she came from, her assignment complete. It would be like saying goodbye, all over again, not knowing if he would ever see her again, for what reason would she have to descend again? That knowledge, cold and sharply piercing the vulnerable walls of his heart, held him back from all that he yearned to do. But even then…

Grabbing her wrist before she could pull it fully back, determination burning in his veins and driving him forward, he extended an invitation to the angel before him, who had guided him with a gentle touch, re-alighting the embers of hope in his heart.

“Would you like to go somewhere with me tomorrow?”

DAY 7

“Two tickets for the Ferris wheel, please.”

The bored attendant searched behind Lloyd, trying to find the mysterious second person, before shrugging and handing the tickets over, clearly deciding this puzzle wasn’t one worth solving.

Struggling to keep a straight face over the mistake he’d made, Lloyd made his way to the end of the queue. Colette wasn’t even trying to stifle her giggles, making his ears flush red as he scowled. Joining him, she hugged the plush puppy he’d won from the ringtoss close to her chest, hiding a smile behind its brown fur as a wing brushed against his back.

They had spent the entire day at the amusement park that this city boasted, exploring the attractions it had to offer. They had played the games, his eyebrows raising higher and higher as Colette had somehow managed to win every single one, even though he swore they were rigged. They had gone on the thrill rides, Colette giggling maniacally while he’d done his best not to throw up afterwards. They had even gone to the haunted house, which she’d found hilarious, managing between bouts of laughter to mention that demons did not look this cute and sending his thoughts into another panicked spiral about the logistics of hell.

They had laughed and yelled in unison over games won and lost, the looming deadline that crept closer with every second that ticked by conveniently forgotten. And now here they were, standing before the Ferris wheel, lit up in dozens of purple and blue LED lights, flashing in patterns that cast the ground around it in the same colours. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a few stars to twinkle in the sky, high above, ready to act as witnesses to the ending that was soon to come.

He could vaguely remember riding the Ferris wheel once with his mother, who had picked him up by the waist to show him the sights when they’d reached the apex, her warm laughter as his tiny fists had swung through the air sticking with him through the years.

It was a place he’d once promised to bring another girl if they were to ever reunite, sealing their vow by wrapping their pinkies together. Her eyes had lit up when he'd described his blurry recollections of the park, blown away by what was, to her, a technological marvel that she'd never had the chance to set her eyes on before.

The angel by his side stared up at the Ferris wheel with wide eyes, tracking its circular motion.

The queue cleared in no time, and before he knew it, they were seated in the carriage, rising at a leisurely pace. The people below them gradually disappeared into colourful dots, the entire city spreading out before them - a veritable maze of buildings with lights that burned bright throughout the night.

Colette was staring out of the window with an unreadable expression on her face, her fingers tracing nonsensical shapes in the mist her breath left behind. Her wings were tucked close, so much so that she seemed smaller than she usually was, the dog plush lying forgotten beside her.

In the silence that had fallen, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands, his stomach twisted into knots. There was so much he wanted to say, needed to say, even, but as always, he found himself hesitating, terrified of what letting the truth slip could do. What if she didn't believe him? Or worse, what if the truth hurt her? He didn't want to burden her with something that might chain her to the ground with its immense weight. She had no responsibility to carry it - being born without memories had freed her from beneath its shadow, even if he owed her the truth of who he was.

Of course, she beat him to it. She’d always been much braver than him, her courage the force that pushed him to be better.

“You know, I think the odds of me getting assigned to you was one in a million,” she mused, her words sending an electric jolt straight to his heart.

He could scarcely believe his ears as she put to rest all of his fears, easily speaking the truth like it was no big deal.

“I've always dreamed of a boy, even if the dreams fade once I awaken.” Her smile was sad, her eyes downcast and melancholy as her wings wrapped around herself, her voice carrying with it the years she had grieved for something she hadn't even known was missing, cradling her bruised heart and unable to find the source of the never-ending ache. "The melody of your heart called out to mine, and it wasn't hard to put your face to the boy in my dreams. I’m... really sorry for breaking our promise.”

“Don’t be,” he snapped automatically, finding his way through the feathers that formed a shield around her to place his hand in hers, hoping the tender emotions he held in his heart could reach her and take away at least some of the pain. He had never blamed her, not once, not even when he'd curled into a tiny ball in the sterile room in the new location he had moved to, tasting salt on his tongue as his heart shattered. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’re here now, aren’t you?”

It was cruel fate that had stolen her away and forced them apart, and yet she had found her way back, against all odds. He would carry all those years of grief with him for the rest of his life, feeling their weight pressing on his shoulders forever. But he wouldn’t give up the chance to have met her, nor the miraculous way she had re-entered his life, keeping their promise in her own, wondrous way. She had always encouraged him to continue believing, no matter what, the memory of the curve of her warm smile enough to keep him going even during his bleakest days.

“I… suppose I am.” She stood, leaning over him with the plush resting in the crook of her arm, her wings catching the silver light of the moon as they arced over him, blocking his view of the sky. All at once, he could truly see the angel in her in its full glory - not just the steadfast guardian but also the holy avenger, something fierce burning in her eyes and keeping him pinned in place, unable to move even a single muscle. “Hey, Lloyd. Tell me. Do you… believe in the Goddess?”

He understood, that this was the final question. And thus, he owed her the truth, and nothing but the truth, just as he'd hesitantly told her his views on faith so many years ago. It mattered not if it was painful - it was still what he owed her.

“You’d think I would say yes with you standing in front of me, but… No. I would like to think I have the strength to achieve my dreams.” With the help of those around him who cared for him, tangible and real, he would keep moving forward towards his own goals regardless of the obstacles that he would have to overcome. It would never feel right to put his faith in a deity who lived up in the sky, even if she did exist, completely disconnected from the lives people led on the ground.

“Good.” Her expression softened, the tears shimmering in her eyes making his heart clench painfully in his chest. He yearned to reach out and grab hold of her, draw her close and never let go, but he forced himself to remain still, knowing it would be selfish of him to do so, to make their inevitable parting all the more difficult. “Hold onto that strength, and I’m sure you’ll be alright. I… I really am sorry.”

I’m sorry that I have to leave you again.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” It was his turn now, to reassure her with the faith he would grasp onto and never let go of, as she once had, pouring all of his heart into his words as he ran a comforting hand down a wing, shivering beneath his touch. “Besides, I believe that…”

“No matter how far you go…” There were tears swimming in her blue eyes, but she didn’t shed them, her round cheeks puffed up as she clenched her fists, her brown hair swaying with the force of her determined motions. “So long as we believe it’ll happen, then surely…”

“...someday, we’ll meet again.”

A small smile spread across her face, her expression doing its best not to crumple. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice wobbling as she pressed her lips to his cheek. Tying her heart to his with a thread that would never come undone, even as she vanished into stardust that scattered into nothing, marking the end of a transient, most beautiful dream.

Leaving him with a single soft feather lying on the metal floor of the carriage that he retrieved with trembling hands, the imprint of her warmth against his skin, and the tears streaming down his cheeks that he’d finally let free.

DAY 8

“You free next week for some bar hopping?” Sheena asked off-handedly as she trounced both him and Zelos in Smash, letting Zelos’ increasingly annoyed complaints at always being the first one to get booted off the platforms go in one ear and leave out the other.

“Can’t,” he mumbled, not tearing his gaze off the screen as he did his best to avoid getting caught in Sheena’s wrath. “I’m meeting my father.”

That earned him both of his friends’ attention, their gazes contemplative. “You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve said that with no dread. And the first time you haven’t tried to weasel out of it,” Zelos commented.

“Ha!” he cheered as he took advantage of the distraction to take another stock off him.

“Hey! Why me again?”

“You know, Lloyd,” Sheena said as she flopped onto her stomach, her fingers rapidly punching inputs into her controller, once more contributing to Zelos’ demise as he wailed. “You seem different.”

“Do I?” he answered, nearly dropping his controller in shock, surprised that she picked up on it. He certainly felt different after the week he'd had, that he still wasn't certain was anything more than a particularly vivid hallucination brought on by stress. But the feather on his bedside table said otherwise, and he’d clutched it close to his chest that very morning, smiling at the warmth it evoked.

“Yeah. Happier, maybe?”

His heart felt lighter, like the shackles fettering it that he hadn't even known had been there had been broken. “I guess I met someone.”

Zelos perked up instantly, a smirk crossing his face. “Woah, Lloyd met someone? Is she pretty?”

“Shut up,” he groaned, smacking Zelos in the head with a pillow before the three of them burst into collective laughter, helping to chase away the persistent cloud of melancholy that still hung over his head.

He carried a new sadness with him, tucked into a corner of his heart reserved just for it, the events of the past week weaved into the tapestry of his life. But he was also freer than he'd ever been, ready to try and soar with the wings she had gifted him, gathering strength every day. There would be bad days when his determination would wane and grief would grip his heart once more, and there would be good days when he could laugh out loud with his friends and grin and feel like he was at the top of the world. And every day, he would do his best to work towards making the many dreams he held come true, whether his progress be a mile or an inch, trying his utmost to be a better person as he cradled the memory of her close.

Just as he’d promised her he would, waiting patiently until the day they would meet again.

#fanfiction #notes :D #silly things

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years ago

Text

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

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