#once again watching some the voice compilation

[rapha-reads]

Someone: *covers SOS d'un Terrien en détresse*

Commenters: "no offence but nobody does Dimash's song better than Dimash"

Me, extremely very FRENCH for once: "EXCUSE ME, that's Daniel Balavoine's song first, have some freaking RESPECT for a legend of French music."

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[uzurakis]

i think kaiser would be the type of boyfriend to absolutely lose it whenever he sees you wearing your glasses,which fall so perfectly on the bridge of your nose

the room is quiet, save for the sound of your typing and the occasional rustle of papers. you sit at your desk, glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of your nose as you focus on your work and deep in concentration when you hear a familiar voice break through your thoughts

“god, you’re hot,” michael kaiser says, piercing through your concentration

you glance up to see him leaning against the doorframe, eyes locked on you. rolling your eyes, you try to ignore him and get back to your work. “thanks, michael. now please leave me alone, i needa finish these”

he doesn’t move. instead, he walks over and sits on the edge of your desk, his gaze never leaving your face. “seriously, those glasses . . you look hot. you didn’t tell me you—“

“michael, i need to focus,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as you compile the papers, feeling a smile tug at your lips

“and i’m focused on you. you’re too distracting,” he replies, a playful grin on his face. he reaches out and gently lifts your chin, making you look at him. “how am i supposed to leave you alone when you look this good?”

you shake your head, laughing softly. “go away”

he leans in closer, deep cerulean eyes shining with mischief. “mein liebling, its impossible to resist you. did i mention you’re hot?”

“yes, several times,” you say, pushing his shoulder lightly. “now, let me work”

but he doesn’t budge. instead, he shifts so that he’s standing right behind you, his arms draping over your shoulders. “i just want to be near you,” he whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your skin

you sigh, half in exasperation and half in amusement. “michael, i really need to get this done”

“so? you can still get it done while im here, no?” he says, kissing the top of your head. “fine, but don’t think for a second that i’m not going to keep reminding you how stunning you look”

you can’t help but smile as he steps back, giving you some space but still watching you with that same adoring look. it’s hard to stay annoyed with him when he’s so sly with his affection

then, when you try to refocus on your work again, you hear him mutter once more, “so hot”

shaking your head, you decide to let it slide. after all, having a boyfriend who thinks you’re irresistibly attractive, even when you’re trying to be serious, isn’t the worst problem to have . . right?

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Akatsuki Headcanons: Halloween with their Darling

Featuring the Akatsuki and how they would spend Halloween with a Darling that loves the spooky season!

Itachi

Itachi is rather introverted and doesn't like parties or loud events. He could, of course, put on a smile and interact with anyone if it was for your sake, but he will be looking forward to being alone with you once again. Plainly put, he has no interest in other people.

He finds your excitement cute and might suggest that you spend a quiet evening in the graveyard, feeding the ravens and discussing horror movies and literature. It's peaceful, comforting and fitting. Oh, he just loves hearing your voice.

Truly, what could be more romantic than debating ghoulish matters among the dead and decayed? For Itachi it is a statement in itself, that your love prevails over everything. Perhaps even foreshadowing, if anyone ever dares to interfere.

Kisame

Kisame will be happy to comply with any proposal as long as you're by his side. That's really the only requirement for his successful Halloween. If you prefer larger events, he will dutifully keep suitors away and allow you to mingle with your friends. Otherwise a cozy evening indoors will suffice.

Now listen, when it comes to horror movies I’m sure the first thought is usually Jaws. But I had this picture in my head: watching Silent Hill with Kisame and getting him to dress up as Pyramid Head. If there’s a costume party happening, he’ll be right behind you in that bloodied up apron and great knife dragging along.

In fact, you could even go for a matching costume, such as Bubble Head Nurse. Kisame takes his role very seriously, so naturally once you’re alone he might just do what Pyramid Head does. You can tell he’s been looking forward to it once his imposing gloved hand is around your throat, grip tightening in anticipation.

Sasori

Sasori will be against any social event, so you better not pester him with any of those annoying Halloween parties. He does not care for it and he finds it an utter waste of time that could be spent with you instead. Why do you need the company of others?

If you must celebrate in some way, he’d much rather compromise on some quiet, cultural activity. Perhaps some museum exhibition, or a candlelight organ concert in a church. Even better, a horror movie at home so he doesn’t have to worry about perverts eyeing you.

I like to think he’d enjoy Tim Burton movies. They’re artsy and tasteful and a lot of the recurring themes might pique his interest. You’ll finish watching Edward Scissorhands and notice he’s been thoughtfully gazing at you for some time. Is anything wrong? Not really. He’d just been pondering that you won’t be allowed to grow old. He’ll make sure of it.

Deidara

Deidara is a thrill seeker and will absolutely share your enthusiasm for Halloween. Costume parties, haunted houses, amusement parks, you name it. He loves a good scare and might even compile an elaborate list of activities to make sure you have the best time. Truth be told, seeing you enjoying yourself might be the actual highlight.

He won’t mind, however, if you’d prefer a less intense evening. There’s plenty of things to do away from the crowd, such as pumpkin carving. He’ll do his best to impress you with his artistic skills, presenting highly elaborate carvings, often depicting your favorite things. He lives to entertain you.

If he thinks about it, this is a perfect opportunity to prove to you that really no one else compares. His love for you is unmatched. And as he likes to say, the holiday isn’t complete until it ends with a bang ;) (Had to make the joke)

Kakuzu

Ugh. Kakuzu just dreads the upcoming holidays. It’s all puerile, commercial quackery and he does his best to ignore the nonsense. Or he used to, at the very least. As much as it irritates him, your disappointed expression might be even more unbearable. He does have a soft spot for you, after all.

So fine, go ahead. Do your silly little Halloween shenanigans. As long as he doesn’t have to deal with other people. It’s really just the best for everyone involved. You wouldn’t want some poor soul complimenting your outfit to immediately meet their demise at the hands of your intimidating boyfriend. His patience might be thin, but when it comes to you it’s basically nonexistent.

Ideally it’ll be just you and him. Graveyards, horror movies, haunted houses, pumpkin patches, whatever your little heard desires. If he’s in a good mood, he might even be willing to don a matching costume.

Hidan

Given Hidan’s beliefs, he’s not very impressed by some pagan invention, although he does enjoy the activities that come with it. It’s his guilty pleasure. Especially because he gets to see you all dressed up.

That might just be the main reason, really. You. He loves seeing your excitement and would do anything to entertain it. He enjoys social events where he can show you off, but doing things alone as a couple is also perfectly fine. Okay, if he’s entirely honest, he would very much like to parade you around as his.

All the gore and the terror really gets him into the mood. By the end of the day he’ll be a starved man, and you can be sure that once he gets his hands on you it will be a bloody, scratching, biting mess. He’s probably the type to suggest you do it in a graveyard for the thrills.

Pein

Pein pretends not to care, but he is very much aware your favorite holiday is approaching. He’ll prepare weeks in advance to make sure he won’t have any paperwork or surprise missions. The day will be entirely dedicated to you.

He will either quietly follow you around to whatever plans you’ve made, like a loyal dog, or will conjure his own activities in case you didn’t expect too much productivity to be possible. Oh, the things he’ll do for your sake. Anything for a glimpse of that genuine smile.

You’re quite amused by the fact that Pein retains his serious expression no matter what jumpscares come your way. Impressed, you can’t help but ask him: “Is there even anything that frightens you?” And he won’t have to contemplate an answer for long. Naturally the thought of losing you. All the other artificial horrors pale in comparison. But you needn’t worry, he will never, ever allow it to happen.

Konan

Konan is only mildly excited about Halloween, but she will never say no to spending time with you. Additionally, it comes with the opportunity of doing arts and crafts as a way to relax. Forget buying decorations, she’ll be crafting the most exquisite garlands and ornaments you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She prefers to keep to herself. If you desire to attend a social gathering, she won’t downright refuse, but she’ll maintain her distance from the crowd and count the hours until you’re alone and together.

I feel like she would treat it as a spooky Valentine’s Day. She’ll show up with an elaborate gothic bouquet of flowers and a card quoting your favorite horror book or movie. “I have crossed oceans of time to find you”, as she lovingly once read in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You’re her very own undying romance.

Tobi

You might think you’re excited for Halloween, but it quickly fades when compared to Tobi’s enthusiasm. Before you can even mention it to him, he will present you with a full itinerary of things to do together. He has been counting the days, constantly daydreaming of having all the fun in the world with you.

Similarly childish is his possessiveness. You find his little bouts of jealousy when you’re among other people terribly cute, as he pouts and tries to drag you away, reminding you dramatically that he’s your Halloween date. Only him.

Although you’re taken aback by his abrupt change of tone, when at some point during the night the silly threats turn into a deep, jarring voice demanding your undivided attention. Surprised? It’s a holiday of frights, after all. Perhaps he’ll show you how scary he can be if he wants to.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

[snapscube]

Remember when people were calling you the "long lost McElroy sister"? Do you see the similarity at all, or do you think it's just because you share a similar creative niche (gaming/streaming/comedy) with the McElroy brothers?

Lol, "when" people were doing it.

I still get it to this day, friend, despite my constant protests.

I used to understand, and it was even expected initially if not personally encouraged! There was definitely a period of time where they were my biggest comedic/creative inspirations, and the truth of the matter is that I am a mannerisms sponge. I mimic people around me, and people that inspire me, and whether or not it's more than the average person I have no clue, but I will go through seasons of daily watching a particular personality or creator I'm fond of and/or inspired by and usually come out the other end having picked up certain tendencies VERY quickly, a large portion of those being speech patterns.

There's definitely a segment of my content around 2017/2018 or so where, yeah, you can very much tell I adopted a McElroy-esque speaking pattern directly (like what felt like 70% of other Tumblr users also did lol) and it was both because of how much of their content I was into at the time AND also because at the time I found their output inspiring as someone who was used to more... Loud Gamer forms of comedy, to put it bluntly. So at first I took the comparisons in stride and saw it as a signal of my own growth as an entertainer, and my ability to be funny in a way that wasn't just Loud = Funny.

But the thing you have to know about me, and my time as even a minor public figure, is that this comparison was not the first of its that was constantly levied at me, and it unfortunately was not the last one in the slightest. Some will remember the days in which I was a reasonably renowned "Bill Cipher" impersonator in the Gravity Falls fandom, and the pattern was very similar at the time. I dealt with people CONSTANTLY telling me that, despite all of my attempts to separate myself from the voice work I did as the character, I always sounded Just Like Bill even when I was just using my casual speaking voice. If this sounds familiar to those of you who have only been around since the dubs popped off, it's likely because I also go through the same thing ever since I became known for Sonic impressions.

And then outside of voice work I've had my style of content continue to be compared to the McElroy's body of work and even beyond to the likes of Jerma and other big-name-of-the-era content creators. And I have to once again stress: I am completely self-aware that it is not entirely unfounded. I mean, the most recent one I got was just the other day when on stream someone told me I had a speech pattern similar to Northernlion. And like, I even admitted right then and there.... yeah! That makes sense! I've had NL compilations going into my ears and brain for hours upon hours on end lately. So I don't mean to only complain and say "this makes no sense" with delusions that it's completely baseless. BUT, I guess if I do have to circle around to a point, it would be that, though I can occasionally understand comparisons, I would hope y'all in turn can understand why it might not be an easy thing for someone like me to hear, especially in the way it never really seems to go away? Even if one like Bill Cipher fades out, the whole "SnapCube is just a female version of [insert larger male peer in the content space]" thing is something that cycles along regardless. And I get it, it's human nature to compare and contrast. I do it too! But as someone who is always trying to stand out in what I do and make my own value as an individual known above the cacophony of content saturation, I do implore people to think twice about the language they use when making otherwise favorable comparisons. Recommending my content by saying something like "if you like Jerma/McElroys/NL/etc., then SnapCube gives off similar vibes" makes of a WORLD of a difference compared to "This stream is just something Jerma would do" or "Penny is just a female Griffin McElroy" (both things I have heard almost verbatim, constantly). They approach the same ideas, but one gives me so much more of a chance to like... start off a first impression as My Own Person and not just a derivative Girl Alternative, if that makes sense.

Whoops I talked about this way too much :) Can you tell I think about this a lot LMAO

Anyway here's the obligatory joke response that's been spread before

[themissinghand]

i was wondering if you could do another story with the 12th Harbinger you created "brighella" if if remember. i really liked reading the two stories about her

Genshin Impact: Oh Hydro Dragon, What is Your Wish?

Summary: In which Neuvillette discovers a new Miracle Magician in town, one who brings joy and wishes to life. He learns that humans are complex beings and that human feelings can be delightful, to the depressing.

Or, you, as Tsaritsa’s proxy, Brighella, infiltrate Fontaine for the purposes of watching over Arlecchino, but a certain Hydro Dragon appears to be more fun than you thought. 

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader

Note: Thanks for the request! Also, with the 4.2 update of the game out, how could I NOT write about it? 

Warning: A bit of angst and betrayal, after all, everything is just a play, and you are all characters of a show.

Also, spoilers for Fontaine Archon Quest!

★・・・・・・★

The Opera Epiclese glittered with splendor as noble laughter and melodies echoed through the opulent halls. 

A new talent has emerged. 

A magician, not of mere tricks but of miracles, with the power to weave dreams into reality. The people of Fontaine, including the Hydro Archon Furina herself, and Ludex Neuvillette, were charmed by this mysterious enchanter.

“Tell me what you wish for, little noble child.”  

But perhaps it was not just their show that caught Neuvillette’s attention, rather their genuine love for humans. 

“I wish for you to heal my mother’s face!” A gasp echoed throughout the room with a mix of disbelief and mockery. 

Indeed, all nobles and VIPs did not believe such a thing, but even with so much noise, Neuvillette could easily pick out what the magician whispered.

“Which one is your mother, little one?” 

When the child forcefully pulled her mother to the stage, the noble lady already had a veil to cover her face. With the rumours circulating the room, it appears that the lady was burned badly in order to save her child from a house fire. 

Due to such a bad burn and scarring, no doctor has been able to restore her original beauty. 

Neuvillette did recall such a trial occur a while back.

“Shh, Shh. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask everyone to quiet down. After all, you could only witness miracles if you paid attention.” Neuvillette watched closely, curious and attentive despite Lady Furina pulling on his sleeves and excitedly waiting for a miracle.

“Madame, please repeat your child’s wish. Only the person who wishes for it, may the miracle occur.”

Thinking of nothing of it, the noble lady repeated the wish outloud. The magician slowly drag one hand from one side of her face to the other, and right before everyone’s eyes, her burn had completely disappeared. 

“W-What?” The lady touched her face with shock, then with gratitude, and broke down on the spot. 

“Mom!”

“What did you do?!” 

“That is a secret of course.” The magician out a finger on their lips.

“Thank you for helping my wife.”

Neuvillette was confused, he did not sense any use of a vision. He expected the magician to perhaps possess the powers of a dendro vision, after all, some of them could heal wounds. 

But this…he had never seen such power before. 

“Please, can I make a wish?” This gentlemen seemed like a middle-age worker, one who barely compiled enough money to enter the opera house for a show. 

“Go ahead sir.” The magician ignored the nobles and beelined for the gentlemen. 

“My house and many other homes near the sea was washed away with the large rainstorm last week, please...I wish for them to be rebuilt!” 

Once again, despite the gentlemen pleading and even tearing up for a wish, the magician smiled gently and held his hand. 

“Your wish is my command.” The magician handed him multiple unique keys, and looked at Neuvillette with a patient look. 

“If Monsieur Neuvillette could lead this gentlemen to his house safely, there would be no doubt to my credibility.” 

There was absolute confidence in their voice, and since everyone was looking at Neuvillette with such curious and pleading eyes, Neuvillette stood up. 

“Alright.” 

With a snap of fingers, Neuvillette felt the world shift underneath his feet. No, it was the shadows that engulfed a group of people to teleport them here.

In an instant, they had travelled from the center of the city, to the edge. 

As promised, those who were curious arrived at the area where houses were supposedly washed away, but instead were brand new as if a disaster has never struck. 

Neuvillette saw many people who cried at this miracle, and the gentlemen who made the wish immediately rushed into his own home to check everything.

"How? It was a wasteland just a day ago...how...you are a saint!"

When all the residents confirmed their house and nothing out of place, Neuvillette truly saw a miracle. 

An entire village built with just a wish. 

A truly great, but dangerous power. 

When Neuvillette turned to find the magician, they were already gone. 

The Miracle Magician.

A name that danced through Fontaine, and gained great popularity especially among the middle and lower class. 

Neuvillette made it a mission to find you and talk to you.

It wasn’t hard to find you.

Where there are moments of joy and wonder, the Miracle Magician will be there.

You who stood at the center of it all, made others smile and grateful for everything you’ve done.

The people loved you for your miracles and kindness, and gave back with what they can. 

Captivating outdoor performances that left Neuvillette enchanted, not just by the magic, but by the warmth and understanding that the Miracle Magician exuded.

The Miracle Magician was popular as they were desirable, for people of different status and desires approached them with good or ill intentions. 

Neuvillette was not surprised by this developments after all, he’s seen many of these human emotions in court.

Relief, gratitude, sincerity, and love. 

But also greed, envy, hatred, and distrust. 

He may not understand them well, but he can identify them.

Neuvillette was worried at first, and watched you from afar in case of any crime to occur. However, little did he know that you were just as talented as leaving the scene without a trace, and you appeared right behind him. 

“Hello, to what pleasure does the honorable Ludex Neuvillette have with me?” 

“Who are you?” Neuvillette asks, looking down at the Miracle Magician with vigilance and curiosity. 

“I am a Miracle Invoker. One who makes wishes come true.” Then with a mischievous smile, you extended a hand. 

“What is your wish, Ludex Neuvillette?”

“I do not have a wish.” The magician was stunned briefly, before they withdrew their hand. 

“That is fine too.” For some reason, the magician looked peacefully content with his answer. Sensing an unspoken initiation for conversation, the magician smiled politely at him. 

“Would you like to go on a walk? I can foresee a lot of questions from you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” He nods. 

“Follow me, perhaps our talk will be easier in a more private space.” 

Both of you went to a nearby restaurant, where the owner immediately recognized Neuvillette, and gave the two a private room. 

Little did Neuvillette know that this conversation was one of the most pleasant he’d had in decades. The magician began to share tales of distant lands, weaving narratives that spoke to the deepest corners of Neuvillette's ancient heart. 

They were naturally an entertainer, one who dramatize stories and share them as if they were in a play. Neuvillette listened for the most part, enjoying their little act.

They shared stories that sounded familiar, and ones that were foreign, regardless, he found you as good company while he drank his water. 

“Forgive me for being rude, but I haven’t gotten your name.” At the end of the two hour conversation, Neuvillette asked for this mysterious Miracle Invoker's name. 

With a polite curtsy, and a tip of their flamboyant hat, they responded with a professional smile. 

“I have no name, but if you must address me, you may deem me as a ‘Miracle’.” 

What a strange name. 

One who refers to themselves as their profession.

Neuvillette has many questions, but chooses not to ask.

As they spent more time together, the Miracle Magician became a confidant for Neuvillette. The dragon, who witnessed the passage of ages, revealed the weight of his solitary existence. 

The magician listened, offering a sympathetic ear and a comforting presence. Neuvillette, for the first time in centuries, felt understood despite his lack of expression in his feelings.

“I am not a god as you may have assumed, Monsieur Neuvillettte. I am simply an existence that is created to make wishes come true.” 

“Nonsense. Are there not requirements for a wish?” 

“The only requirement is that the person who wishes is happy.” 

“…you are lying.” A laugh, Neuvillette watches the magician break out of their polite demeanor. 

“Oh Monsieur Neuvillette, what is your wish?”

“I do not have a wish.” 

“I see. Perhaps one day you will tell me your wish.” 

One day, after a long exhausting trial, Neuvillette stepped out for a stroll. He walked and observed as humans walked past him with their own stories to tell, and their own role to play. 

A routine of his as rain fell from the sky. 

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry!”

But why in this black and white world, were you here?

“Monsieur Neuvillette, why are you standing in the rain alone?” You who held a colourful and flamboyant umbrella quickly shielded him from the rain. 

Startled by this unique predicament, he simply stared.

“Why…are you here?” 

“I enjoy the rain.” 

The magician smiled before extending a hand. 

“Would you like to make a wish, dear Neuvillette?”

This time, Neuvillette didn’t respond to accept or reject your offer, but instead accepted your hand and chose to walk ahead. 

Neuvillette held your hand like a gentleman, ensuring there was nothing scandalous that could occur from this action. 

But he felt his heart beating harder than before, as if he had come alive again.

“The world is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The magician suddenly says, as they take down the umbrella. Colour came back to his world as if the curtains of the stage unveiled itself.

Sun rays appear from behind the dark clouds and people rush out to see a beautiful rainbow stretching across the skies.

“The Hydro Dragon must be happy!” A little boy exclaimed as he ran around happily. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, storms will come to pass, just as sunny days will turn to night. But what’s important is that you live now, where peace exists and people can be happy.”

The magician pulls out a blue rose from behind their back and suddenly slots it behind his ear.

With a cheeky smile, you kiss his gloved knuckles. 

“I wish for your happiness, oh Hydro Dragon.”

Neuvillette didn’t know what this feeling was, a quite foreign one for himself, but he doesn’t find it annoying or worthless. 

“Look! It’s a double rainbow!” 

As days turned to nights and nights to days, Neuvillette found himself drawn not just to the enchanting magic of the Miracle Magician but to the soul beneath the illusion. The Miracle Invoker, with genuine kindness, had become a beacon of trust and solace for Neuvillette.

So why? 

Why are you standing by the suspect’s side? 

“Stand down, dear 11th.” In an instant, the Tartaglia released his transformation. 

“Brighella?” Neuvillette heard the suspect whisper out your name, and he felt himself turning his hands into fists. 

“The Miracle Magician?! Why, why are you here?!” 

"Shh, shh," You hushed the crowd, a calming spell woven into your words. 

You stepped forward, gracefully interposing between Neuvillette and Childe. 

“What is going on?!” Lady Furina exclaimed, looking between Neuvillette and you with a bewildered expression. 

“Now, since the true guilty party has been brought forward, and even Ludex Neuvillette himself deemed my friend innocent, is there a reason for this show to proceed? Does Foutaine’s justice perhaps leave the final verdict to a machine? If so, why would we need a trial in the first place?” You put a hand to Childe’s shoulder, and the man immediately relaxed, and looked at you with a happy expression. 

You smiled, still in your new role that you’ve created for this very moment, and bowed. 

Neuvillette, sensing the unspoken authority, hesitated. 

“I wish for this trial to end peacefully, and ‘I’ to be forgotten by Fontaine.” 

Neuvillette widened his eyes and rushed towards you, but with a sly look, you stopped him with your flamboyant hat, a forcefield pushing him back. A huge tsunami burst forth in the court with water rushed around you. 

“You lied to me.”

You laughed slyly, your image as the Miracle Magician he’d always known slowly faded away.  

“Who are you?” Neuvillette felt a sense of loss and grief, and even for a moment doubted himself and his ability to properly “judge” humans emotions.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.” A hand reached out to wipe under his eye, your voice was the same, though you had a mocking expression on your face. 

“Oh Hydro Dragon, what is your wish?”

A portal appeared behind you, with Tartaglia pulling on your coat tail to signal you to leave. 

“I wish-” You put a finger to his lips.

“To think I’d see such an expression on Chief Justice, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign himself…” A smirk rose to your face, paining him even more.

“That is what it means to be human.”

In an instant, the two vanished, leaving behind a bewildered courtroom. Neuvillette felt a headache, but when he turned around, Lady Furina was already leading the court with her dramatics. 

And just as you wished, the “Miracle Magician” was no more, just as how Tartaglia was never part of the trial in the first place. 

The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale still revealed the verdict as guilty, just not to Tartaglia, but to the true guilty party.

Neuvillette picked up your hat, and held it tightly in his hands. 

The next few days, it was raining harder than usual with Neuvillette’s figure disappeared completely from the public. 

He watched every moment he spent with you in the rain, and the joy you brought to the people. He regretted not making a wish. 

Now, no one in Fontaine knew you, and only he and Lady Furina recalled such a name. 

"Brighella."

Neuvillette hoped to find you again, even if you were a lie.

Just like your name, you appeared like a “Miracle”, and disappeared like one too.

[suzuran777]

Nitro Chiral April Fools’, 2005 - 2021

Nitro Chiral recently announced that they will probably not create any new content for April Fools’ in the future. I remember really looking forward to this every year, so I was a bit sad to hear that...! They mentioned that they might change this decision again some day, so we will just have to wait and see... To remember all of the fun jokes they’ve created throughout the years I wanted to make a fun compilation of all their previous April Fools’ jokes (or at least the ones I remember and took screenshots of). Maybe someone already posted something similar, but I had a lot of fun looking at these old pictures again! 

2005 Togainu no Chi 'Vischio Jack'. This was just one month after Togainu no Chi was released! Nitro Chiral’s website was filled with Arbitro’s hobbies. He announced that the next game will be called ‘Makeinu no Chi’ which means ‘blood of the losers’... The new main visual also shows all of them bleeding from their noses lol.

Some interesting new items... the Shiki body pillow?

2006 A year later Arbitro hijacked the official website once more and comments on each Lamento character. He seems to be a fan of Konoe but the others aren't his type... This blog describes it in greater detail (Japanese only). Second part of the website teases the Togainu no Chi fighting game (咎狗の血 餓狗 Mark of the Dogs). I kind of wish they really made this game because the description of it sounds fun.

2007 Lamento Love Love Gakuen, which was later made into a real drama CD also started as an April Fools' joke! Asato is Konoe’s childhood friend in this, Rai the student council president and Bardo’s a health education teacher. 

You can still listen to some of the audio clips from the original page here! The plot doesn’t seem much different than the real drama CD they ended up making later. 

2009 Nitro Chiral mentioned they couldn’t do anything for April Fools’ 2008, but they were back in 2009 with..one of the weirder ones. They posted a teaser of their new game, ‘Sweet Potchari’ which literally means ‘sweet chubby’ and as the name suggests, they posted art of all of the sweet pool characters, but this time they’re chubby.

You could check the profile description of each character and Kunihito’s description mentions that he’s very charming and “both men and women love him” lol. I unfortunately don’t have any high quality versions of these wallpapers anymore. Someone also recorded the voice lines, though listen to it at your own risk.

2010 This time Nitro Chiral announces a new project called 'YO! Akira'. It’s Togainu no Chi except all of the characters are replaced by mannequins and they’re kinda terrifying. They made videos in which they re-created part of the opening and the game, which someone actually saved and uploaded, so you can still watch it here...! The whole thing is a parody of Japanese sketch comedy series 'Oh! Mikey!!' which focuses on an American family living in Japan, but all the characters are played by mannequins.

This blog has some more pictures of what the website looked like. The day after this Nitro Chiral made a blog post about maybe spending too much time creating these April Fools’ jokes, but it seems like they had fun! They also had no idea what to do with the mannequins after this.

2012 I think they skipped 2011 because I cannot find any information about it, so let’s move on to 2012! Arbitro took over the Nitro+Chiral website again and changed it to Bitro+Chiral...

You could play this short visual novel on the website in which Arbitro introduced his new product line-up. A hataki (feather duster) shaped like Konoe’s tail, a life-sized Akira statue made of chocolate, Onnushi-sama's curry, and blue butter which is supposed to decrease you appetite so you don't have to eat anymore. After looking at these last two pictures I think I don’t feel hungry anymore...

This is also the year DRAMAtical Murder was released, so they changed the website too! Now it’s DRAMAtical Mother, which is of course referencing the Mother series (Earthbound). You can find some more screenshots and information here.

Aoba got his own Twitter account too this year, which someone also archived here! The Twitter account actually still exists but I believe they locked it after April Fools’ ended. 

2013 This year they focused on DRAMAtical Murder too! They transformed the website into Junkshop Heibon's webstore (the store Aoba works at in the game). It feels kind of nostalgic... 

That same year they also released a radio show in which Aoba and Mizuki work for Midorijima Radio Station. They invite Koujaku, Noiz, Clear, and Mink as special guests. This has been uploaded and fan translated, so I definitely recommend checking it out here! They also ended up selling this as a CD later.

2014 This is one I remember very well because I remember playing the short game they released. It's called ‘Osu-Boys!! ~Ikemen Ryoujoku ☆ Paradise~’ and it's a short visual novel which features the four protagonists, except they're all really clumsy and end up in some really embarrassing situations... I am guessing the artstyle is supposed to be similar to KyoAni’s Free! anime.

I don’t think I can show the full pictures here because the CGs of this game are quite NSFW, but you can probably still find them somewhere online. Aoba worked at an adult goods shop in this game though, nice new job (?). Unlike the browser games, this one could be downloaded, so some people probably still have it.

2015 Arbitro once again returns and opens his own 'hentai' museum.... yeah. Someone uploaded the theme song they made for the website, you can find it here. I believe it’s supposed to be a parody of ‘Atami Hihokan’ (an adult museum).

The website shows a map of the museum and its facilities, some more pictures can be found here. I think the art of the mascots is pretty cute this time...

You could also play this minigame on the website which also featured the four protagonists. There’s still a video of someone playing through the game, so definitely check it out if you’re interested. The artstyle has a bit of a retro feel.

2016 This year the website turned into the 'Raira-ryuu honpo' official homepage, an art school that specializes in the traditional art of ...boys love. All of the characters are drawn like famous Ukiyo-e paintings.

All of the ones above are Tōshūsai Sharaku paintings, so it was pretty easy to find which ones they were referencing!

They also re-drew all of the game covers too and the descriptions of the games were pretty funny. Midorijima was transformed into a big red-light district and the people who lived there were kicked out and are now living in poverty. I hope you’re surviving, Aoba...

This time there was also a flash game which could be played on the website, a shunga (erotic painting) puzzle. You can find all of these pictures here. Like the previous year they are heavily censored and not really NSFW. 

2017 This time the April Fools’ joke is a parody of 'The World of GOLDEN EGGS', a Japanese animation series set in an American-style fictional town, except this time it’s called ‘BOYs LOVE Nitro+CHiRAL’. I’m assuming most people who have been in the fandom for some time remember this one. They created a short YouTube video series and it had English subs. You can still find the videos if you look for them on YouTube so please watch them...! It’s all worth it for Konoe singing ‘I’m in Blue’ and the Rhyme fight.

Youji is always the victim of these awkward conversations... Some more pictures here! You can find the YouTube videos by just searching for the title of the series mentioned above.

2019 After 2017 they stopped updating their website on April Fools’, probably because they were busy working on Slow Damage, but in 2019 they did post some extra illustrations. Not the most happy kind of illustrations, featuring the protagonists and Naito-kun apologizing because they couldn’t do anything for April Fools’ that year...

2021 Unfortunately this is the last one! 2021 is the year Slow Damage was released, so it makes sense the final April Fools' joke focuses on them. It's called 'Warau Euphoria', which means ‘laughing euphoria’. It’s a reference to Japanese series 'The Laughing Salesman', so they're also drawn in a similar artstyle. 

The website has a warning that you need to be over 35 years old to enter instead of the usual 18+ warning lol. They also got Towa’s voice actor to record a couple of new lines on the webpage, if you click here you can still listen to a recording of it.

I’m a bit sad they might not do any of this stuff anymore in the future, but I’m also glad many people recorded videos of the old websites and minigames so we can still enjoy them even now. I couldn’t include every single screenshot in this blog post, so I tried my best to link other pages with more information.

I had a lot of fun checking out their website every year and I really appreciate the effort they put into all of this. I might update this blog with some additional info later!

[nightmareworks]

hi i have been Cooking lancer fic

Once again, we meet Union Auxiliary Pilot, (28th Voidcombat Division, Mercenary Wing Bravo,) ["Kingfishers",] Callsign- VI The Lovers. We meet Miss Allison Wax (she/her) [Her Body, a borrowed face]

And her Loverboy (he/him) [Stone Butch Death Machine]

(both art gotten from @skycrimedraws who NAILS IT EVERY TIME BABY)

"Hey boss man," The words fell out of her lips, halfway through (the next words were a question) when her CO interrupts with "I told you not to call me that." She stops. (She doesn't flinch, its not flinching.) [She kind of just needs to run through some maybes.] For just that moment, there's no one in the body in front of the CO. And then she starts again, words coming back out. "Alright, alright. CO, what's the job you got lined up for me and my Loverboy?" The CO gestured to the spare chair with a file, and Allison picked her way across the floor. (She walked on the tips of her toes, even in the sneakers.) [She walked with a gait to big for her body, like her legs were blades.] {She's En Pointe} She pulled out the chair and sat, crossing a leg across her lap and looking at the CO through her bangs. "The next mission shouldn't be for a while yet, Miss Wax." The CO's voice was always even, collected. That's why they were the CO. That's why they wore Union Grays and Allison wore what she always did. (Just put clothes on Her body) [What kind of clothes did She wear before Allison?] A thought dismissed with the disappointment of nearlight engines. "Really now, CO? How long are you gonna keep me up? More time in medbay?" The CO shakes their head, opening files, going through them. The work seems endless, running a Merc Lance. (But what's Alllison gotta worry about work?) [Gets to wound up, being in a ship conapt too long without her Loverboy.]

"So is it more time with the headmeds?" The CO looks up from the papers and gives that kind of pained smile as Allison snatches a file off the table to read. (One of the ones with the Mission Seal on it.) [Can't read Unionite Legalese for shit.] "No, Miss Wax, you're scheduled for wind-down, but you don't need to go see one of the after-action therapists- unless you feel the need of course." So she started paging through the mission file, going over the after action reports compiled from her Loverboy (From his eye, from his soul.) [The stars are beautiful at 2,000 kmph.] "So there's really no jobs, CO? Not even basic patrols? I get bored when I'm stuck down too long." The CO holds out their hand, and she returns the file. (She likes to feel like she earns her keep.) [That's just polite, for all the things Union offers.] "Miss Wax," the CO begins "I understand that talented pilots get odd without flight." That's the thing about Grays- they're willing to work with you more than they aren't. (Its not that Allison thought they were pushovers.) [Just the most reasonable kind of people, mostly.] I can organize testflights for you, if you see that there isn't more work for the technicians." There's what she wants to hear (But not quite).

"Work's good for me, CO. You wouldn't let a butterfly starve in a jar, would you?" The CO folds the file closed. (Her file.) [The one that says "Obvious signs of long-term Chronos exposure."] Doctors let you read files out this way. Its nice to know they care, at least. CO gives their answer. "Miss Wax, war's a failure and you're a contingency. Glory only comes with time. Take your mech out, call it a patrol if that helps, but my job is to make sure the mercenaries stay healthy and stay flying." There's more, Allison knows there's more, and she stops a moment. For that split second, she's not in Her body. Allison is watching Her sit there, in the chair, in Allison's clothes, across from the CO. (The look on their face is kind of worried.) [People still caught in their meat don't like being reminded of it's hold on them.] Allison picks a maybe, a series of words that seem right, and then the moment is over, and she's back in Her body. "So where are we headed, CO? You can at least let me prepare for the future."

"We're headed to Dawnline, Miss Wax. There'll be work aplenty for you in the Long Rim and beyond."

======

The cavalry technician looked up at the frame he was gonna work on. It was a custom job, one of the Lancers that the Aux had brought onboard when coming out of the Range. Long haul ships for Union do that sometimes, guard presence in exchange for amnesty and escape. Good people get trapped places. He just wasn't sure whoever flew this thing was the best kinda people. "Beautiful damn monster you are." The mechtech murmured under his breath, looking through a sheaf of printouts. Specs for the machine in front of him, an IPS-N Frame the pilot apparently fit together herself. He didn't, really trust the speed listed under its maximum output. That kind of speed would make someone grayout (The speed at which the blood of a human body begins to pool in the limbs, causing the pilot to lose consciousness). Redout even. [The point of g-force at which the brain is starved of blood, and dies.]

He looked up again at the machine and saw it was staring back at him, great singular eye tracking along its axis, to cast its baleful red upon him. He noted it, and looked back to his notes. Looking for if this thing had a casket it in, a C/C programmed to play tricks. The normal shit pilots pull on their technicians. He came up around the great black thing in its bay, and stared it in the eye from the gantry. It stared back, body making the clittering hiss of a mech at rest. (Mechanized Cavalry frames that are in regular usage are rarely quite things.) Coolant pumped through the entire frame, keeping the coldcore under wraps until it really needed to go. Fusion engines, power-reroutes designed along the Albatross style… where the verniers and thrusters aren't shaped for an RPV. (Remote Pilot Vehicles aren't uncommonly retrofitted for pilot use, he notes under his breath) [Under that red eye.] He eyes them again, as the giant thing keeps staring. There isn't any record of a computer smart enough to do anything of worth on this machine.

It was strictly Turning-Compliant, according to the CO's paperwork. That left the damages to repair. Bits of slagged armor along the leg-blades and shoulder plating. Nothing a few hours work with the rigs wouldn't fix. The mechtech flicked a few switches and brought the frame up to the light, to the arms that pulled and printed in smooth motions as his fingers danced across the keys. It was slower going than he thought. And the mech was making a noise. It was keening, a clatter-chatter at once both rumbling low and piercingly high. Something was wrong with the feedback from the mech-harness, reporting simple and blunt legionspace attacks. Best the cavalry technician could manage was to remove the offending plates before the assembly limbs gave up and stalled. That's when a hand touched his shoulder, and a voice rang in his ear. "My Loverboy doesn't know you, mechtech, but I do. Gimmie a minute to settle him down and you can get back to work."

The girl walks past him then, almost teeter-tottering as she glides across the floor on the tips of her shoes. She moves her legs wrong, picking her way as much as stepping. The cavalry tech looks at the mech's legs and puts together the kind of pilot he's dealing with. The kind that have gone in a direction past human, hunting for something else. (He'd never really known someone in full body prosthesis) [Was rare, in his neck of the galaxy.] She moves like her mech even as she steps off the gantry and onto its chest, placing hands against the grinning skull. Ever since she came in, the eye's been locked onto her alone. He worries and wonders what kind of monster he's got to work on now.

===

He screams for her, against the void, he tears away from the cling-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris (Like the commune, she offers) [Like lights, the therapist offers back.] But the past doesn't matter when the future is laid out in the bleeding world of 2000 kmph. She was safe from everything, safe from Gravity itself as she lay coiled in her Loverboy's guts, aching through Chronos haze and picking his flight path for him as a beautiful dance. She wanted him to run through his paces, and he was eager to please. To show her what he could do. How he was built for her. Like a butterfly flitting across a windless sky, like a shark dancing through a school of fish- Loverboy puts on a show for his girl.

She's spinning him a dance, putting the engine to its test. Her Loverboy screams for his girl as he dances, frame keening against the speed and void. (Allison watches Her legs twist against the seat.) [That's how she knew the engine was art] {State-of-the-art affection} She doesn't like to think about home. Not home anymore, and not worth thinking about. More Gravity shorn free from her under the speed. So what's it worth if its pulled away so easily? Home wasn't ever home, no matter how much anyone told Allison it was. What's where you're born compared to where you'll be? (What's the flesh you were born in but another place to be trapped in?) Allison feels her brain reel as Loverboy spins in a piroutte ascending. It doesn't spin in place, but it recognizes the forces working upon it as her Loverboy pulls into a rise. (The snap from horizontal to vertical would snap necks.) [But when you don't have Gravity, moving is easier.]

Verniers howl with force as Allison considers Her. (And the changes Allison had made to Her.) [Would She mind? Would She understand?] There are protective tendons, built from the same kind of whipcord steel that run through Loverboy. There are stabilization systems built into her braincase, that absorb and disperse the shock of sudden shifts of g-force. There's a dozen, a hundred little aftermarket touches to Her body that Allison has made. (But is it really that bad, when the body is aftermarket?) [When the body wasn't built for you.] Allison still watches Her, curled as Allison left Her. (Back curved gentle. Arms on knees, resting eyes against forearm.) [The clunky implants hooking Her to Loverboy peek their tubes from beneath Her shirt] She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Everything Allison had wanted to be back then. There She was, with Allison's brain in Her body, Allison's Loverboy hooked through feeds to Her back.

Allison reached in the stopped little flaring moments between directing Loverboy through his dance. They were all the same moment. Allison reached out, and cradled Her face, and said Her name. Something Allison couldn't ever know. (How was she supposed find Her? Long way from Ketherese.) [From everything from that life.] Everything but her Loverboy. He counts the micromovements of her eyes. His own whirrs and focuses, keening as the scopes hone in on a target and his body twists with his girl's desire. He counts the times she stops existing as a presence registered at the controls. He rolls over and considers in his clicking thoughts the ways he loves her. His adoration burns in him as retros flare and he lands blades first, touching against an asteroid with the grace of a butterfly upon a blossom. His thoughts turn and his computers chitter and churn. His whitewash tanks purge into rawmat resivors and a new batch is rapidly encoded, new chains of acids and code written by mute-drive, a silent organ buried deep in his frame, coiled round and through his girl.

The Hyperkinesis Module develops a novel admixture of nanites and adrenaline and feeds through the connection to Allison, filling her endocrine system with a soothing electricity synchronized to readouts and full reports of engine efficiencies, micrometeor grazes, and heat venting. (His body hisses for her, waste gas for heat disperial in null atmosphere environments) [He bares his heart to her, reactor dropping as he stretches against the asteroid.] Allison leans forward, the Chronos uptake stretching from her back and into the cockpit's back wall. (Little tubes running up to her spine and kidneys) [One of the other aftermarket touches to Her body.] Allison's face reaches through the holoscreen outputs of Loverboy's eye. She kisses the armored outer hull of her cockpit. (She stands to her toes.) And her Loverboy gently touches off the asteroid, into the void, gently floating in the empty place beyond Gravity.

Allison lowers her oxygen uptake, and rides the Chronos her Loverboy made for her. (She dreams like an editor.) [Looking at scenes and picking them.] A wash along the nervous system, stuttering climbing up her spinal column and into the brainstem. She dreams of Ketherese, and what was left behind. Consider the Gravity that's been shed. (In the embrace of her Loverboy.) [Memories are the only thing you can't shed.] Her grandfather's dirt is far from everything she'll ever see again. No one will see the frontiers she sees. (Allison will see things even She'll never see.) [Or maybe they'll see the same stars some day.] {Face-to-borrowed-face.}

No one she had ever known would see what she sees, know what she knows. (She'd shed them, like her old body.) [Like Gravity.]

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

The Kind Of Love You Only Find Once In A Lifetime - Steve Rogers x Reader (Prologue)

A/N: This whole fic is dedicated to the wonderful @anika-ann because she was the one who reblogged the wartime footage gifs that inspired all this and I promised I'd write it 😉

Summary: Tony finds some old war footage of Steve which features someone very special to him

Word Count: 892

Warnings: Angst! Flashbacks!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

The Kind Of Love You Only Find Once In A Lifetime

Steve took a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut as he waited for the most recent flashback to leave his mind, but it just seemed permanently seared in his brain, tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. Clenching his fists he threw his first punch at the bag, the satisfying crack making his eyes snap open as he continued to throw punches. Praying that with every punch the pain would just stop.

Steve had been living in this new modern world for just under a year now, his new friends had tried to help him adjust some more than others, but settled was not the word he would use. Frankly, he didn’t think he’d ever feel settled in this new life. How could he when everything and everyone he had was back in the forties?

With his last punch, he spotted a small droplet of blood running down the leather of the bag. He paused, brows furrowing as he watched the droplet work down the bag before dropping onto the floor. Looking down at his fists he saw the wrapping around his knuckles was soaked with blood.

He needed to stop, he knew that. He could practically hear that voice in his head, the one that he simultaneously wished would stop and never go away, telling him to stop. He gave into that voice, knowing it was right, it was always right. He stepped away from the bag and began to unwrap his hands, seeing just how damaged his knuckles were. They would heal up perfectly fine and quickly on their own but that voice told him to go clean them properly so he did.

As he made his way back to his room he heard the rest of the team talking in the cinema room, as well as a voice that did not belong to this time period. Curiosity got the better of him, as he walked in he instantly recognised the footage on the screen. It was all the old footage from his time in the war.

“Where- where did you get this?” he asks, clearing his throat when he feels it begin to break.

“Dad’s old archives, it proved useful in the past,” Tony says tapping his arc reactor “So I thought I’d go through everything else see if there was anything important” he explains “found all these old reels, some said unusable on them but I asked JARVIS to compile it all together and Ta-Da” he says gesturing to the large screen.

Steve just hummed with a small nod of his head as he stared up at the screen. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mind was telling him to leave, save himself the heartbreak. But his heart kept his feet firmly planted where he stood because only it knew the connection Steve had to this footage.

The first reel with the narration ended and there were a couple of seconds of a black screen before it came back to life with more footage of him. However this time almost every clip had him looking towards the camera. To begin with, it was only for a split second but over time the gazes became longer and a smile would form on his face.

“No wonder they couldn’t use this footage, Cap keeps looking into the camera! You’re breaking the number one rule!” Nat laughs shaking her head at him.

“I wasn’t” Steve mutters.

“Yeah you are look at you” Nat argues pointing up at the screen.

“I wasn’t looking at the camera” Steve states quietly, unable to say it any louder with the lump in his throat, looking down at the floor so they wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

When the screen went black again Steve cleared his throat and went to leave, he was by the door but he froze when he heard Clint say “Who’s the girl?”

Steve didn’t even need to look at the screen to know exactly what girl it was and it was not just some girl. It was the owner of the voice in his head that he couldn't help but listen to. His body operated on autopilot as he walked back into the room and looked back up at the screen.

His breath caught and the lump in his throat doubled in size. There was no sound but Steve could hear the laughter so clearly, there was no way Steve would ever forget that laugh. He had no clue this footage even existed, his heart ached as watched as the girl on the screen laughed and tried to push the camera away.

Eventually, the screen went black and remained that way but Steve could not take his eyes off the screen praying that it would restart and he could see it all over again.

“Who was that Steve?” Nat asked her voice softer than before.

“It… it uh was someone very special to me” Steve manages to say, he quickly sniffles before glancing back at Tony “Can um… is there a way I could have a copy?” he asks.

Tony shifted in his seat “Sure, JARVIS can you get on that?”

“Already did Sir” The AI responded.

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly before quickly turning to make his way back to his room so he could go rewatch the footage of you over and over again.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

[incognito-duo]

MUTANT MAYHEM HCs!!

Leonardo

The turtles and Splinter all call him Da Vinci, hated it at first but then grew to love it.

Loves watching Octonauts, and made a video essay about it.

Likes going to Walmart

Watches Vine compilations at 2 am when he can’t sleep

Color codes his candy, for example, only eats all of the red Skittles then the purple ones then green, etc.

Cried over Roblox VC once, and his brother verbally harassed a 5-year bc of it.

After Scumbug got with Splinter, Leo tried to encourage his family to learn the language she spoke. He is the most fluent, but as good as Splinter.

Even though he's a snitch, Leo has blackmail/secrets that are brothers only. (Some things are sibling code fr)

Favorite Dcom is Z-O-M-B-I-E-S, and looks up to Zed.

Loves cheesy Rom-cons, and has a Tubi account just for it.

Donatello

Head of movie nights, mostly watched anime movies but tried to find one the whole family would love.

Has his tent because he owns a bunch of merch, and needed a place to put it.

Simon, from Alvin and the Chipmunks, kinnie. Had a massive childhood crush on Jennet.

Def a Disney Kid, TOH, Molly McGee etc.

Got into Anime, and other fandoms, bc of AMV's.

Fandom wiki user, and a Tumblr user.

Studio Ghibli GEEK!! Made many video essays.

Chapped as hell lips, carries small Vaseline around (Forgets to use it)

Owns a diary

Info dumps and long study sessions a lot

Michelangelo

Only wants bubble tea for the pearls

Had a small wig era... failed, and never did it again. (He only wears wigs in secret)

Has the best handwriting

He could wing a test if he paid attention in class because IMPROV!!!

HAS to sleep near one of his brothers, hence why he has a bunk bed.

Has glow-in-dark stick stars on his wall!!

Number one hypeman when you wanna ask your crush out. Definitely helped Leo with April

Writes in orange glittery pen

Likes to style his mask in bows or fun edges

Over thinks with giving others gifts, decorating, and hosting parties

Raphael

He HATES the dentist

He is actually a big softie and dork (like we all know), so he yaps a lot with April, his brothers, and the people he's REALLY close with

Likes a few musicals because of Mikey, like CryBaby and Ride of the Cyclone

Loves to show off, mostly to impress people

Plays Valorant with Casey

Bullies little kids on Roblox voice chat

Childhood crushes were on Liv from Liv and Maddie, and Cat from Victorious

Likes to munch on waffle cones when bored

He's too loud or too quiet when speaking during certain times without knowing

Owns a journal, and has the most outrageous handwriting

April

Kids still bully her, but a lot have stopped after the events of the movie

She slowly learns how to get over her stage fright

the CUTEST handwriting when taking notes, the aesthetic school notes with the pastel highlighters

Doodles during class, and tends to doodle Leo when working on her newspapers (AprilNardo>>>)

Lowkey hated Casey before they became BFFs

Goes to her apartment roof when she needs to relax, or when bored

Listens to Lofi Girl when studying

Likes to make small, silly comics for the school newspaper

Loves tot bags, or duffel bags!

She is an only child, but loves to hang out with her parents and relatives. Every weekend, she goes to IHop with her family and invites the turtles and Irma sometimes

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.”  His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.” 

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket.  “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left. 

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years. 

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch. 

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back,  and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed. 

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside. 

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.  

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down. 

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back. 

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled. 

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.   

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard. 

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped. 

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street.  But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse  after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical. 

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .” 

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin. 

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue.  They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again. 

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled.  She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight. 

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her. 

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications. 

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.  

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical. 

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use. 

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch. 

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper. 

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup. 

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy. 

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Free Rhys Darby ASMR Sources

So @hang-on-lil-tomato got me thinking with their post about Stede Story Time, I did all this research into all the Rhys Darby works and I realised I should probably compile it in case other folks are looking for the same things.

So yeah, I mean, Rhys doesn't do audio books as of yet, but man would that be amazing if he did. So for those of you who want to hear some good 'ol Rhys Darby voice, here's some sources. Please feel free to message me if you have more. ! I'd love to add them, and I'll tag ya :D

---

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet Youtube Compilations

Stede say'd Ed for a full Minute by justagaycatboy

Stede Bonnet being a bitch for 4 + mins by Rae Hamilton-Vargo

Stede Bonnet being the crew's dad for almost 4 minutes by grim weaper

Stede Bonnet screaming for 2 minutes 15 seconds by "Our Flag Means Death"

Stede Bonnet cursing for almost a whole minute by Murder Turtle

----

TV or Mini Series

Rhys Darby in Japan (Freevee on Amazon)

So as someone who lived in Japan for a bit, this series is really really fun. It's awkward, and funny and it's almost all Rhys Darby as he's narrating and living the whole damn thing. There are quotes from this show that I use in my every day life, I love it so much.

Short Poppies (Freevee on Amazon)

Considering most of the characters in this show are in fact Rhys Darby, it's a great way to hear his very colourful range. I haven't seen all the episodes, but I find it quite endearing.

Intrepid Journeys (Rwanda) (Youtube/nzonscreen.com)

Ty @hang-on-lil-tomato and @meanmisscharles for this recommendation! I haven't watched it yet but here's the description:

"This Intrepid Journey sees comedian Rhys Darby taking an OE to the landlocked African country of Rwanda. Darby makes a bunch of friends in the markets of capital city Kigali, then heads on a jungle adventure. Far from the New York office of his Flight of the Conchords character Murray, he searches for critically endangered mountain gorillas. Darby is guided by François — a personable and entertaining park ranger, fluent in primate dialect — whose aping gives Darby a run for his money in gorilla impersonation. Darby is quietened by a sombre genocide memorial, and a 200 kilogram silverback."

Stand up

These are pretty self explanatory, wanna hear Rhys Darby talk for an hour or so? Stand ups the way to do it, all the voices you could want and no one interrupting him.

Rhys Darby I'm A Fighter Jet Rhys Darby: This Way Spaceship It's Rhys Darby Night Mystic Timebird

Youtube Shorts/Channels

Rhys' Youtube Channel featuring stand up shorts, sketches, Rhys' playing games and other fun stuff like "The Alone Rangers". All stuff I have to dive into, thanks again @hang-on-lil-tomato!

Movies

Love Birds (Included with Prime Video)

So if you follow @celluloidbroomcloset you have probably heard of Love Birds, and as someone who is totally normal for Rhys Darby, and loves birds and used to do rescue work, I have to day this movie is adorable. It's a really cute love story, and good god Rhys is hot AF. He and Sally Hawkins have amazing chemistry, and you get lots of good Rhys voice...in a romantic setting. I apologize ahead of time to any of you who lose your soul to this movie.

Coming & Going(Freevee)

So I haven't seen this one personally, so I can't speak to it (it's on my list for this week actually!) so I'll update this once I do.. but in the mean time, here's the description:

"When Lee (Rhys Darby), a young, skilled OBGYN who lacks confidence with women, suffers a minor injury that temporarily lands him in a wheelchair, he meets Alex (Sasha Alexander), the girl of his dreams. Convinced she has only paid attention to him because he's in that chair, he stays in it to win her affections well after his injury has healed."

Podcasts

The Cryptid Factor

You're gonna hear more than just Rhys, you'll hear from Dan Schreiber and Buttons (not ofmd buttons) and some other folks occasionally but you get to hear Rhys in his element, which is awesome because he is the goofy nerdy man we all know and love. The Cryptid Factor on Apple Podcasts

You can also go to their patreon and subscribe for free there-- the paid versions have video footage from a lot of shows and some other cool perks including stickers and book clubs and such.

Aliens Like Us

Thank you @hang-on-lil-tomato for this one! I hadn't found it before

General Reference to Works

Here's some overall guides to his various voice works (thank you again to @hang-on-lil-tomato )

--- Anyway -- hope that helps with your Rhys Darby very normalness :D

[noirleo]

confession hcs

bayverse tmnt (aged up, dont be weird <3)

mikey

mikey has confessed his feelings for you at least twice a day since you first met. he was convinced he was in love with you from the first meeting, and it wasn’t until several days later that he realized he was so caught up in planning your entire future relationship that he didn’t actually get your name.

which, of course, just presented an excellent excuse to need to see you again. and again.

before you even realize, you have a very talkative escort to and from your apartment at night. late night walks graduate to movie nights at the lair, and before you realize it, you’re spending every weekend at the lair, watching old horror movies or carefully curated playlist of funny youtube compilations he put together just for the two of you.

you didn’t take his flirting seriously at first. mikey flirts with every person he meets as surely as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west—hell, you’ve seen him make passes at casey once or twice. you brushed it off, taking his declarations of love all in good fun.

slowly but surely, though, your feelings for him crept in, burrowing their way under your skin and stubbornly taking root in your chest. you found yourself anticipating his “come over???? :)” texts and buying him little trinkets and things you think he might like when you go shopping with your friends. the two of you have become inseparable over the past several months; the brothers claim that they never really see one without the other anymore.

tonight you and mikey are crashed out on the couch, facing each other with your legs folded over one another’s gracelessly. a bowl of popcorn balances precariously on your entangled legs, and mikey’s eyes are glued to the screen, excitement lighting up his features as he mouths the words in time with the actress on the screen. it’s the third night in a row he’s chosen terminator, and at this point you could probably quote it backwards without having to spare a glance at the screen.

you tell yourself that’s why you’re staring at him again—you’re just bored, no other reason— but you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from his face to look at the tv.

“see something you like, babe?” mikey asks cheekily, not even turning his head away from the tv. you take a piece of popcorn and throw it at him; it bounces off the side of his head before he turns back to you, mouth dropped in mock disappointment.

“aw no, wait, i wasn’t ready that time! go again,” he pleads, and you toss a few pieces high into the air. he snaps them up and raises his hands, waving to a fake cheering audience. you giggle and kick at his leg, which he easily catches, pulling you closer to him. your breath catches as he pulls you onto his lap, still giggling, and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

“when are you finally gonna kiss me, ‘angelo?” the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. emotions flash across mikey’s face within a split second before his usual, wide grin spreads across his face.

“you saying you want me to, angel face?” he asks, not even trying to hide the hopefulness in his voice. you don’t even respond, glancing from his eyes to his lips, before he pulls you into a kiss.

the movie you were supposed to be watching ends at some point, but the two of you are much to busy to notice.

[letsgetrowdy43]

my house is warm (Rowan’s Version)—

I listened to the song "my house is warm" by Sombr and immediately was like "ADAM AND SUNNY BREAK CORE!" so please enjoy, and maybe give the song a listen cause it's really good!

Warnings: a little angsty, nothing too bad, just a hallowing in self pity Adam and a heartbroken sunny, some drinking/partying, lmk if there is anything I missed!

Au Masterlist!!

"I wanna call your phone with nothing in mind, just to hear you breathe on the other line. I try to reach for you but your skin's full of thorns. Oh, this town is cold but my house is warm"

The second Sunny left Adam's apartment that day, he knew it had all been a mistake.

He couldn't decipher if this break was something he needed or if it was a way to run away from the build-up of issues that were growing in his life. Afraid of burdening the ones around him, especially her, he just made it a clean break with a slight promise of a future.

He stared at his phone screen tapping through Instagram stories before landing on hers, a bright smile on her face as she celebrated the Umich football team winning the Natty. She was smiling, she looked so genuine, so perfect, so real, and to him she looked so happy, without him. Her nose scrunched with excitement as she hugged closely to her roommate, the two of them standing just before the TV in their living room, dressed in Michigan colours as they posed in front of the scene of the quarterback holding up the trophy.

He hesitantly hit the like button at the bottom corner of the screen before tapping off of her story to look at her account, eyes landing on the lack of their highlight. The compilation of photos that once was labelled with a little "A" followed by a heart emoji was gone, none of their memories over the past year visible on the account.

It kinda felt like a slap right in the face, but this is what he deserved, this was his punishment for ruining something so good.

He missed it, missed her, she was easily the person in the world he loved the most, and somehow he had managed to fuck up a relationship he cherished so deeply. Missing the ability to just call, to talk to her 'just because'. But remembering that towards the end, he wasn't ever calling her just because he could, he was becoming a chore to her.

He needed to free her.

Kent tapped Adam's shoulder as he caught him stalking the girl's profile, "we should get dinner soon," he said nodding towards the door as Adam just cleared his throat and turned his phone off. "Sounds good!"

★★★

"How did it end like this? I wanna talk to you, talk to you again. How did we get here so quick? I watch you walk right pass me like we never did what we did"

Luca handed the girl a drink as she sat on the sophomore's couch, her eyes wandering the room with a pout on her lips as she looked at the boy whose face dropped at the sight of her sadness. The whole team and a few alpha phi girls were pregaming before they headed out to the bar.

Her eyes had been glued to her phone screen most of the night, staring at a single notification saying that Adam had liked her story. It was moments like this, with all the fun surrounding her, where she hated him for making her fall in love with him. Something about having fun now felt foreign to her, it felt so distant, because she'd been on a constant loop of self-pity and emotions.

Her lips formed a straight line as she looked up at the guy who had become her best friend, "are you okay Sun?" he mumbled as he sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. She flashed him her phone and shrugged, "just miss him," she whispered, trying to keep her voice down around her friends, the topic of Adam and the breakup seemed to be the only thing they wanted to talk about, but she wasn't willing to talk about him in the light of the asshole ex-boyfriend, Adam was her everything.

"I understand," he mumbled, his hand rubbing up and down her arm reassuringly as she leaned against him, "but let's not focus on the sad tonight, let's get drunk and pretend like everything is okay, just for a few hours," he clinked his beer can with her cooler and took a swig. Sunny smiled as she mimicked his actions, "That sounds like a really fucking good idea," she smiled slightly as she looked around the room at her friends, Nick catching her glimpse and motioning for her to come join their game of beer pong, which she happily obliged.

'Just for tonight' she thought as she smiled and made her way across the room to the group surrounding the kitchen table.

★★★

"I can't right my wrongs but I can write another song, I can't take you out but we can get along. If I went away, would you chase the train? Oh, this town is dark but my house is warm"

Allstar week was meant to be a whole week of just relaxing and getting his mind off of hockey and stress, but as soon as Luca, Gavin, and Rutger convinced him to come back to Ann Arbour for the oof week he knew it would be nothing of the sorts.

The first sign of trouble was that the second he arrived at the sophomore house and was met face to face with Charlotte, Sunny's roommate, leaving Gavin's room, he knew that this week was going to be less tranquil then planned.

He smiled awkwardly as her face grew red and murmured a short bye to the boys before taking off.

Their lives were so intertwined at this point that there was no ignoring each other, they were doomed to run into each other at one point, and it was just a matter of time before they were face to face. Faces flustered and chests heaving with the raw emotion of this realization that they were no longer together.

That was sign number one, the second came only a few short hours later when he was sitting in the student section of Yost alongside Rutgers girlfriend. He was a little on edge, he loved this place, loved the atmosphere of the building and the crowd, but he had learned to love within the walls of this building, fought battles in the building, and even made a name for himself, and now he was back and there was this feeling of melancholy looming over this head. Adam had this gut-wrenching feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Then it happened, he saw her, for only a short few seconds. Her gentle eyes meeting his, Sunny was clad in his old Blue Michigan jersey, something he'd given to her for home games and never asked for back after the season ended, and she looked perfect. She looked almost glowing, cheeks nipped pink from the chilly air, her hair cut noticeably shorter with bangs, smile so wide as her roommate handed her the sheet of paper that listed out tonight's line up.

He was almost gutted that she looked so beautiful, and he looked like a shell of himself.

She was stuck in place for a second, her stomach dropped as they just stared at one another. But she was abruptly brought back to reality by her friend who tugged on her sleeve to keep walking.

Her cheeks grew increasingly pink as she sent him a slight wave, but someone got in the way of her little action and it went missed before she was dragged down the stairs to her seat by the glass.

Adam felt nauseous, his eyes meeting Kayleigh's as she watched him turn pale, "you okay?" she asked as her eyes went back to the game. "Yeah yeah, I just need some water," he said unconvincingly before taking off in the direction of the concession stands, his eyes searching the crowds for the blue jersey, but he couldn't pick her out of the sea of maize and blue.

He couldn't find her in the crowd, and that was enough for him to leave the arena and text the boys that he got sick.

★★★

"How did it end like this? I wanna talk to you, talk to you again, how did we get here so quick? I watch you walk right pass, like we never did what we did."

Three months is how long it took for Adam to reach out, and it all happened because of a short message Luca sent him.

"You need to get your shit together Adam," frustration filling his tone as he sighed, "Someone kissed Sunny, and I'm not calling to rat her out or to tell you that she is talking to other people, I'm calling to tell you that she is being tortured cause she can't move on from you cause she won't allow herself to, and you're not doing anything to relieve her from that pain," he paused for a second, "I love you man, but get your shit together, figure it out cause she's not going to wait forever, and you too have something too good to let go of," the line went silent as Adam stared at his desk in shock.

His brows furrowed for a second before letting his emotions get the best of him and dialling her number.

It rang once before she picked it up, confusion filling her senses as she put the phone up to her ear, "Adam? Is everything okay?" "No" "What's wrong?" her voice more alert as she tensed at what seemed to be anger in his tone. "You kissed someone, and didn't tell me!"

She blinked slowly, trying to gather all of the anger coursing through her veins at such an inconsiderate thing but was to worry her like that and then use that vulnerability to get upset with her over something so stupid.

"I'm sorry, you called, after ignoring me for months to get mad at me because someone kissed me, and I didn't tell you?" "I-" "No you dont get to do that Adam, you cut me out of your life, and I get it and I understand why, but you can't be mad at me for something that I for one didn't want and two had no way to tell you cause you iced me out."

She paused waiting for a response but was met with silence, "if you want to talk about it do it like an adult, tell me why you are upset and we can get through it," she sighed as he searched for the words. "I don't have anything to say, that was irrational and immature of me, sorry." She laughed at his formal tone which made him let out a chuckle, "good," is all she said as she stared at the promise ring on her finger that she never took off.

Words danced on the tip of his tongue as both ends went awkwardly silent, he considered the weight of them, how badly he needed to get them off his chest before he just spat them out, "I missed you," he said firmly causing her to smile. "I miss you too Adam," she whispered, as he settled into his bed.

"I've been meaning to call you," he sighed, "I just didn't know how to reach out, I've complicated everything Sunny, and I'm sorry that I was inconsiderate of how this all would affect you." Sunny sniffled on the other end, her hands wiping away the tears as she leaned against the headboard of the bed, "Thank you, but please don't apologize for putting yourself first, I just want you to be okay."

"Are you okay? are you doing better?" she asked, immediately hearing a soft huff on the other end. "I'm doing better, just trying to make it through the season," he shrugged as she hummed in agreement, "are you okay." "Not really, it's been hard," she answered truthfully, her voice cracked causing him to tense, "but I'm happy you called, I've missed hearing your voice." "I've missed yours too."

Adam and she stayed up talking for a few more hours, mumbling and spilling about all the life events they'd missed over the course of the three months they were no-contact.

As she went to hang up Adam stopped her by saying her name one last time, "I just want to say that if I'm holding you back Sun please don't feel like you need to hold onto me because you think that you have to," Luca's words replayed in his head, ones about him torturing her, like physiological warfare, "what I'm trying to say is that if this isn't working for you anymore, I'm okay with that, I just want you to be happy."

Sunny sat silently on the other end for a second, "That's not what I want Adam," she let out a little breathless cry "I love you so fucking much, I would never throw that away unless you want me to, if this is you trying to tell me to move on then I will do that for you," she said, the tears coming back as she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the stinging. "That's not what I want, I want you." "Good, cause I want you too" "Good," he said, a grin growing on his face as she hummed at their shared realization.

★★★

"I still see your face in every single crowd. Oh, I just wanted to make your mama proud"

The rest of the year became a blur for Adam, the only thing he found himself looking forward to was playing the Redwings in Detroit one last time for the 23-24 season, knowing that his brother and best friends would be in attendance.

His eyes searched the crowd for Luca and Rutger, the two boys grinning and waving at Adam on the ice as he flashed them each a smile, his heart stopping momentarily as he looked next to them to see a girl with short brown hair sporting a Fantilli jersey, his heartstrings pulled as Cole bumped into him making him loose sight of her. By the time his eyes find his brother and friends once again, she's no longer there.

The game goes on, it's long and his plays aren't working as in favour as he'd hoped. The bluejackets were down by one and the tensions were high as the time counted down. Second by second, he felt the time slowing down as he got puck possession right in front of the Redwings net and took a slap shot right through the open area, the goal horn going off as his arms raised in the air out of excitement.

His eyes found the crowd again, searching for her, looking to Luca who was on his feet cheering, and then he saw her familiar face in the sea of people, but the second he blinked she was gone again.

his brows furrowed as his mind switched back into game mode as he went down the line of the bench to fist bump everyone loudly cheering now that the score was tied. he sat down, eyes looking back at the crowd, darting from section to section, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of her comforting face once again.

But he couldn't find her.

After the game, which went into overtime, and ended with a Kent game-winning goal assisted by Adam, he met Luca and the boys down in the visitor's tunnel.

A smile on his face as his brother pulled him into his chest, "nicely done Mo," Rut said from behind Luca, their grins contagious as Adam pulled the other boy in for a hug.

"Missed you guys," he said as Rutger ruffled his hair. "You're such a softy," he laughed causing Adam to shrug. "We missed you too," Luca elbowed Rut as he pushed him to the side.

Adam fixed the collar of his dress shirt as he looked at the CBJ merch his brother was sporting, remembering back to the game.

"Was sunny here?" Rutger stopped his loud rambling, his grin replaced with an awkward smile as Luca stared at his brother with confusion. "um no? I don't think so," he said watching as Adam's lips formed a straight line and he nodded curtly. "Oh, I thought I saw her in the crowd," he said trying to play it cool, but instead coming across as extremely unconvincing.

The guys stared at him with wide eyes, trying to decipher if they should ask before Adam shook his head and just smiled, “It's whatever, do you think guys wanna do dinner before I have to get on my flight?”

★★★

"Baby in another life I can, call your phone just to hear you breathe again"

He put the phone up to his ear, his hand rubbing his temples as he fought off the fatigued state he found himself in.

"Adam?" she said groggily, a sleepy haze in her voice and her heart beating at a fast pace from the startling ringing sound of her phone. "Sorry, I don't know why I called, just felt like I needed too," he whispered as she hummed in agreeance. "It's okay, just surprised me for a second," she mumbled, the heels of her hands rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow.

It remained silent for a second before she spoke up, "Are you okay?" "I think I'm going insane" "Well I could've told you that," she joked, her lips pulling into a smile as he let out a huff. "I'm serious, I keep seeing you everywhere I go, like tonight at the game, I saw you with Luca, but it wasn't you," he confessed as she bit back a smile at the sound of desperation and confusion that laced his voice.

"Did you want me there?" He let out a groan at the question, she was playing mind games with him, "that's a dumb question, you know the answer" "I want to hear you say it," she persisted, the grin on her face grew as she listened to his deep breaths. "I want you with me at all times Sunny," he said in a 'duh' tone as she let out a noise of contentment.

It fell silent again, the confession taking up the space between them as they sat with the weight of his words for a second.

“I watched from home, so I was there in spirit,” she confessed, Adams grin growing “You still watch my games?” “Of course, I didn't stop caring about you the second I left that apartment Adam,” he nodded along with her words as he laid back down on his hotel bed.

he was struck by the comment, his heart beating harshly in his chest as it dawned on hims just how this all could've been avoided if he had just been a little less in his head, “I really fucked us up.” “You were just doing what you thought right” “Well I was very wrong, and I hate that I can't just call when I feel like it, or that my friends look at me like a kicked puppy when they talk about you, I was so wrong about everything” “Yeah?”

A comfortable realization sat in each of their chests, as Sunny stared at the promise ring that still sat on her bedside table, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the right words.

“Off-season is in a few weeks, and so is my summer vacation, we can talk about all of this then, okay?” “Okay,” he said, she could hear the smile on his face through the phone.

She stared at the clock on her bedside table looking at how late it was, eyes heavy as she ran her fingers through her bed head, “I have an early class so I have to let you go,” she mumbled. Adam nodded and let out a little hum, “okay, sorry for calling again,” “No I'm really happy you did, this was good.” “Okay,” he waited for a second before whispering a quick “love you.” “I love you too Adam,” she mumbled before hanging up to leave him with his thoughts.

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[h0neytalk]

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.