#Did my best to fix the audio

[royalarchivist]

Rubius: Is [Rubius] still the best gamer, or no?

Worker (Dtowncat): I mean… if he WAS the best gamer, he would still be alive.

Rubius: 😒 I will kill you personally.

Rubius abuses his VIP power and immediately gets humbled by one of the workers.

[an-established-butt-dent]

I am not a god.

I am prideful, hotheaded and foolish -

- and I'm doing what I must.

When you report back to the Inquisitor,

say that I am sorry.

Audio is an excerpt from this video by Solas' voice actor.

Colored pencil on paper.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Machine... I told you I wouldn't handle that they/it robussy.

Audio source

[goldentigerfestival]

Yuri's dialogue (JP) is so fascinating to study, like... the repetitive use of certain words/phrases that others use sparingly but he uses constantly. the way it feels like his vocabulary is more expansive than what he uses, but he defaults to a "comfort" level of speech. the way it mixes in with his sort of "street talk" words and the sheer level of informality. the way his "street talk" phrasing is contrasted by the tone of his voice (on that note, people I know who also know JP are also very endeared by these aspects of him so I KNOW IT'S NOT JUST ME!!!).

'cause the thing is, he uses phrases that yeah, other people do use, but he uses a handful over and over and over (contrast to other characters' sparing use of repetition). it's actually... really refreshing? it sounds more relatable and less "video game/anime/JRPG/RPG" writing or something, idk. like closer to how a real person would speak.

I do my best in my translations not to make things sound too stiff across the board, but Yuri makes it so easy. it's why I'm so interested in translating all his lines in Vesperia, like... the actual, original tone for him with his original wording because it's smth Eng only players don't get to experience ('cause even if you listen with JP audio, if you don't know the language, ofc you're gonna miss out on context. it's nobody's fault for not knowing, just... they unfortunately miss out). the thing is, there are a lot of times when the lines in and of themselves are not contextually incorrect in the English ver (usually the situation for smaller scenes, because they altered the text outright for more important stuff which was the stuff that originally set me off, but there were also plenty of cases of just vocal tone shifting with the correct context that still gave off the wrong impression), but Yuri's tone is shifted away from the original in Eng even though it's completely and perfectly translatable.

I am by no means about to translate the entire game because let's face it, I really don't care that much for Vesperia on the whole. I'm kinda stuck with it because Yuri's there lo and behold I actually am WAY more engaged in his stories in Rays, Link and Asteria because it's an amazing character put into circumstances where he actually gets to shine and feels more alive, which Vesperia did not provide nearly as well with its very disjointed story. also, Tales gachas have banger stories that are arguably better than the mainline games, and they regularly make Yuri a very central character to the gachas. Crestoria was also about to do it until they pulled the plug on that game and I'm pretty confident something interesting has been lost to the world. also I just generally don't have the energy or motivation to do that, so... I'll only be focusing on Yuri's lines, especially because his stuff is where the bulk of the messing around was. he's just insanely fun to translate for and I love burying myself head first into his speech.

will I actually finish this project? dunno. will I get around to posting it? whatever I get done (so all of it if I complete it), and if I decide to call it quits then I'll post what I have at the time I decide that. will it take a long time? probably, but I can always mention stuff along the way...

[ojamayellow]

everybody loves armada/micron legend (taste) and makes fun of energon/superlink (which is a not good show) but no one talks about cybertron/galaxy force (has only seen cybertron) which is like.....what everyone should watch.

[mossolantern]

i made another one of those mlp song covers with the voice ai but my god the only good part is like.. the beginning of the chorus bc thats like the only part where the octave didn't mess up lmfao

[puari-vol]

Peer Pressure

CW: Hypnosis

I stood quietly and unobtrusively off in a corner of the ‘slumber party’ trying my best not to bother anyone. Occasionally I glanced over at my friend Kelsey who was talking animatedly with some girls and wondered why she had insisted I come along. Of course I had agreed at the time, it seemed like a good way to make friends. But now that I was here…I couldn’t bring myself to try talking to anyone. I fixed my eyes on the cup of water in my hand. This was all… fine, I was just being Kelsey's designated driver. I was being helpful, like a good friend should be. It didn’t matter if I had fun or not. 

I zoned out enough that when Kelsey tapped me on the shoulder I jumped

“Did you really just stand in the corner this whole time? Geez come on you goof its time for the movie!” 

She took my arm and dragged me toward the TV. Both couches were full so I ended up sitting cross legged on the ground in front of them. Kelsey was about to sit next to me before she was suddenly pulled away to sit with some other girls, so now I was just sitting next to two strangers. They didn't seem to mind me, but they didn't introduce themselves either.

The lights go off and the movie starts, the chatter dies down as everybody watches. It seemed like there was something wrong with the audio, there was an odd droning sound playing under the movie. But it wasn’t loud enough to be annoying and nobody else seemed to notice so I kept quiet. The movie was honestly kinda boring, I glanced around and accidentally made eye contact with someone doing the same thing. I felt myself blush and turned back to pay attention. The movie kept going and after a while I started to space out. I was so out of it that when something changed it took me a while to notice. The movie wasn’t playing anymore, or maybe…this was part of the movie? The screen just showed a pink and purple spiral spinning around and around. The droning had gotten louder. How long had the spiral been on the screen? I couldn’t remember. I looked to the girl on my right, about to ask if something was wrong with the movie. But she was just staring at the screen, focused. I noticed everyone else was doing much the same. I quickly turned back to the screen, not wanting to embarrass myself. As I watched I tried to remember what had been happening in the movie for this to make sense, the spiral and been going for at least a few minutes now, but the more I tried the more the details of the movie seemed fuzzy and distant. I stared intently at the screen, trying to find out what everyone else was looking at…

I blinked when there was suddenly someone sitting in front of me. I only noticed because she waved her hand in front of my face after she sat down. She was backlit by the spiral on the screen and she smiled at me. 

“Hey there” she said softly “First time here?”

I just nodded feeling strangely dizzy.

“Kelsy said she was bringing someone knew, is that you?”

I nodded again, she was gazing intently at me and I started to feel self conscious, I averted my eyes and saw that everyone else was still just staring at the spiral

“Well Kelsy has good taste, you’ll be lovely”

I blush, not expecting the compliment

“Um thanks” I mumble no longer able to meet her eyes. She was grinning at me now

“Are you ready?”

“Uh…for what?”

“To learn about the button that turns off your brain” 

I blinked as I tried to sort through the nonsense statement

“The what?”

She giggled and pointed off to my left 

“Just watch, you’ll get the idea”

I looked and saw she was pointing at the girls sitting on one of the couches, all of their eyes were glued to the spiral. As I watched, another girl came up behind them. Starting with the girl on the far left, she leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Then reached over and tapped her on the forehead. At once, she went limp. Head lolling forward, eyes closed. She slumped into the girl sitting next to her, who jolted as if suddenly startled awake, eyes blinking rapidly. But the girl behind the couch simply reached over and tapped her on the forehead as well. And suddenly both girls seemed to be fast asleep leaning into each other. The girl behind the couch smiled and gave them both a pat on the head before moving on to the rest of the couch

“You see? All good girls like you have a button that turns off their brain” 

I was staring open mouthed at the girls now asleep on the couch

“But…but I’m not-”

“Shhhhh”

I felt a hand on my cheek, and my head was turned to face the girl in front of me again. I was blushing like crazy now and I stammered something incoherent. The girl just smiled kindly

“Don’t worry, you won't be bothered by that kind of stuff soon”

Hand still on my cheek, she turned my head to the right, where I watched the girl sitting right next to me get tapped on the forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped back, mouth open and drooling.

“Isn’t she pretty?” 

She put her hand below my chin and made me nod, I hardly noticed I was just staring at the girl

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, all sleepy like that?”

She made me nod again

“Don’t you want to look like that?”

I nodded, I wasn’t sure if she made me or not

She turned my head to face her again. Her other hand was held up in front of me, her index finger pointed at me. My eyes focused on the tip of her finger

“W-wait”

“Nighty night”

She tapped me on the forehead

[neil-gaiman]

This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

[senascoop]

SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

[ruhua-langblr]

Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

-------

Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated. 

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

 “But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We’ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

[totheblood]

white horse

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer notices a change in you and helps you in his own spencer way

warnings: mostly fluff, grief mentions.

a/n: wrote this short thing to fix my spencer reid obsession! AI AUDIOS in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"my heart always wants to run."

Spencer was unfocused.

The hum of the air conditioner in the precinct wasn’t enough to drown out the thousands of thoughts in his head. What he should have been doing was analyzing the geographical profile of the current unsub, maybe even collecting witness statements or completing paperwork, but no. Spencer Reid was unfocused on the case and completely focused on you.

Ever since Hotch presented the case your entire body language had changed. It was like you had folded in on yourself, deflated in a way that made Spencer’s heart crunch. On the flight to LA, you nervously bit at your nails as the team spoke, bouncing ideas off each other, not contributing to the conversation like you usually did. You took a backseat in this case and for the life of him, Spencer couldn’t figure out why.

The minute you joined the BAU you were as elusive as they came. You barely spoke about yourself, never attended group gatherings, and kept conversations strictly professional. Spencer used to brainstorm reasons as to why you were so reserved, but he stopped once he started thinking of ways to get you to like him.

He would bring you the mini muffins from the cafeteria that were always sold out by noon, but you would always politely decline and claim you had just eaten. He would sit next to you on the jet and make small talk to which you replied with one-word answers. He always made an effort to include you in conversations not pertaining to work but you just would not budge. The only time he got a glimpse into the real you was when he made a stupid off-hand joke about Aristotle and you chuckled from your desk. He did his best to ignore the feeling that swelled in his chest. 

Now he was getting a glimpse into your life in a way that he didn’t expect. You were on edge. Something about this case was personal to you. He noticed it in the way you took small gasps every time a new body was found, or how you opted to do paperwork instead of being in the field. As someone who has seen you do a million takedowns with a smile on your face, Spencer knew something was wrong when you opted to stay back. The unsub was kidnapping pairs of sisters, murdering one, and letting the other live. It was gruesome and cruel, and he was accelerating. Spencer should have been doing literally anything to help, but his attention was on you.

“I can feel you staring,” you breathed from your place at the large conference table, not looking up from the paperwork. 

“Oh, uh-” Spencer fumbled as he sat up, “I’m not- I wasn’t really staring, I would say I was observing.”

You put your pen down and looked up at him, eyes squinted as you looked at his face, “Why?”

There was an edge to your voice, like you were already pissed and he was just making it worse. 

“Well, you usually write faster, you have a notch in between your eyebrows like you’re thinking really hard about something, or trying not to. And you, uh, scratch the back of your ear when you’re nervous,” he blurted out, sitting up straighter, “and uh, I wanted to make sure you were… okay,”

His last sentence made you sit up straighter as your whole face softened. You looked down at the papers in front of you then back up at him, “I didn’t realize anyone noticed,” you whispered voice low.

“Well,” he started, getting up and moving to sit down next to you, “you’re one of us… aaand we’re profilers, we kind of notice these things.”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and looked up at him. His hazel eyes were practically sparkling as he stared at you. If you were being completely honest, it was intimidating. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been,” you squint your eyes, thinking of the word to think of, “distant. I’m just not used to all of this, it’s overwhelming.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said almost instantly, voice soft, “This job is a lot, I don’t blame you. But today… this case,” his voice trailed off.

You took a deep sigh, resting your hands in your hands as you shut your eyes for a minute before you spoke, “My sister… she died. I don’t want to talk about it but, this case reminds me of it. Reminds me of her.”

“I understand,” Spencer hummed, in such a soft voice that it almost instantly soothed you.

“God, it happened so long ago I just don’t understand why I can’t get over it,” you shook your head, rubbing at your face before speaking again, “it’s like every time I remember it, I shut down. It’s like I’m broken or something.”

Spencer paused for a moment, looking you over before speaking, “Did you know that grief can actually alter your brain chemistry? Research has shown that the intense emotions associated with grief can increase levels of cortisol which can impact memory and cognitive function. In fact, there's evidence suggesting that the brain of a grieving person might resemble that of someone with a traumatic brain injury.”

You looked over at him, eyes a little wide as if you were taking in everything he just said. 

“I don’t know if that helps but-” Spencer started but was cut off by the sound of your voice. 

“It helps,” you breathed a laugh, “it really helps, so uh, thanks.” 

“You know, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to-” He spoke before tumbling over his words, “I mean we’re all here if you need someone, not just me but all of us.” 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile which he returned, “Thank you, Spencer,” you looked back at your paper before glancing back at him, “I might take you up on that offer.”

With his cheeks tinged pink, he nodded, picked up his messenger bag and exited the precinct conference room where Derek was stood in the doorway, clapping a hand on his back as he exited, “You’re in deep, pretty boy,” he commented with a laugh. 

“Shut up,” Spencer said under his breath, his cheeks now growing a shade or two darker. 

You had said maybe the most you ever had to him in your entire four months of working there and Spencer left the room blushing. He was for sure in deep.

[giggle-guru]

Okay, so here is the audio you’ve been waiting for! I’m not entirely confident with my abilities to do Lucifer, but I gave it my best shot. I utilized one of the AI websites for my voice overlap (because I cannot make my voice go that deep or anything for the life of me, I’ve tried) so some parts are slightly glitchy but other then that it seems to have exported okay. I’d love to hear your feedback, other things you’d like to hear, etc etc! Thanks for listening :)

Background: Alastor and Lucifer joined Husk and Angel Dust in a few rounds of poker. Of course, Angel managed to coerce Lucifer into having one too many drinks, and Alastor ensures that he gets back to their room within the hotel safely. He figures this might be the best time to point out a little…quirk he’s noticed in Lucifer’s behaviour.

Script is below the cut for those interested (note I did go off of it a few times and sometimes didn’t write out effects I was planning aha):

[Sound Effect: Two sets of footsteps. One stuttering. One consistent.]

Alastor: [chuckling softly] Lucifer, my dearest... you really must be more careful with how many drinks that charming little Spider manages to convince you to indulge in. I’d hate to see you so... inebriated again. You know what happens when you’re under the influence. [He chuckles slightly.]

Lucifer: [grumbling, defensive] Relax, Bambi. I hic I am the King of Hell! I can… I can handle a few [hic] drinks…

Alastor: [mocking, with a wide grin evident in his voice] Of course, my liege! Why, how could I ever doubt the infinite prowess of the almighty Lucifer Morningstar? [chuckling] Though, if I may be so bold, your "infinite prowess" seems to have trouble walking straight at the moment.

Lucifer: [grumbling, defensive] It's... hiccup the floor. It's uneven. You should fix it.

[Sound Effect: A stumble, followed by a quick grab.]

Alastor: [amused] My, my, such treacherous flooring! Let’s not test gravity further, hmm? Hold still, my darling. Let me get the door.

[Sound Effects: A door creaks open, and the two step inside. Alastor guides Lucifer toward the bed.]

Lucifer: [grumbling, slurring slightly] Hah... you fuss over me too much. I can take care of myself, you know.

Alastor: [with a smirk in his voice] Oh, of course you can! Why, you’re practically a paragon of self-sufficiency... when you’re not half-conscious and leaning on me for support.

Lucifer: [small chuckle] You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

Alastor: [teasing, delighted] Oh, my dear Lucifer, you wound me! Enjoying this? Why, I’m simply being a concerned partner, making sure my precious King doesn’t topple over like a drunken mortal. I do think it’s time we get you out of that dashing suit and into something a bit more... comfortable, hmm? Sit.

[Sound Effects: Bed creaking. Clothes rustling.]

Lucifer: [groaning, slightly annoyed] I don’t need help with this, Bambi. I can undress myself.

Alastor: [with a teasing voice] Oh, Lucifer, darling, I’m sure you can. But let's be honest, you’ll never manage to get those buttons undone without my assistance in this state. [pauses, his voice dropping to a more affectionate tone] Once I finish changing you, my dear, why don’t we simply cuddle for a while? After all, what’s a night of indulgence without a little rest and relaxation?

Lucifer: [huffs, but there’s a soft smile in his voice, small giggle] Fine... fine. But I’m not some... helpless creature.

Alastor: [grinning] Of course not. You’re the most powerful being in Hell... when you’re sober.

[Sound Effects: Clothing changes. Bed creaking as they get under the covers.]

Alastor: [grinning] Are you comfortable, my dear?

Lucifer: [mumbling, relaxed but still with a hint of his usual pride] Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just... stop smothering me for a second, Bambi.

Alastor: [teasing] Oh, but I can’t help it, darling. You’re so much more charming when you let your guard down. [pauses, his voice softening slightly] Besides, what could be more relaxing than being pampered by your favorite radio demon?

Lucifer: [grin in his voice] Pampered, huh? More like nagged…

Alastor: [Teasing, amused] My, my... is this how you treat me, darling? After I spend all night taking care of you—guiding you to bed, making sure you’re comfortable—this attitude is the thanks I get? [Pauses, his voice lowering with a mischievous edge] I’d watch your tone, my dear.

[A soft chuckle as he moves closer.]

With how much you’ve had to drink tonight, I’m sure you’re quite sensitive… [His voice turns playful, teasing.] Don’t try to hide it, Lucifer. I know you’re feeling it now.

[Sound Effects: A light shift in the bed, followed by the faint sound of a finger trailing lightly over skin.]

Alastor: [Teasing, delighted] Hmm... What’s this? [His finger traces gently up Lucifer’s side, the movement soft but deliberate.]

Lucifer: [Chuckling softly but with a slight edge of excitement] Bambi, don’t—

Alastor: [Mockingly innocent] Don’t what, darling? [He trails a finger higher, a light tickle along Lucifer's ribs.] I’m just trying to help you relax.

Lucifer: [Trying to suppress a laugh, but fails and giggles softly] Alastor, I swear— [His tone softens as he shifts slightly under the touch.] I told you, stop that…

Alastor: [Chuckling softly, playful amusement] Oh, quit pretending you don’t enjoy this, my dear. I’ve seen the way you act—always teasing me, poking at my nerves, just to get me to... [He pauses for effect, leaning closer as his voice drops slightly.] do exactly this. [He chuckles again, a hint of mischief creeping in.]

How naïve do you think I am? [There’s a slight hum in his tone, as if savoring the thought.] Ever since that first time I tickled you into submission. [Sing-song] Admit it, darling, you’re simply begging for attention in the most roundabout way.

Lucifer: [Pausing, his voice stumbling slightly, trying to sound defensive but failing miserably] W-What? That’s—ridiculous, Bambi! I don’t— [He shifts uncomfortably, a faint blush creeping into his tone, betraying his embarrassment.] I-I don’t try to get you to do anything! You’re just... imagining things! And even if I did—which I didn’t—you wouldn’t be able to prove it... [Soft giggles, soft voice, a hint of defeat mingling with his embarrassment.] ...J-Just shut up and stop grinning like that. And stop with the light touching! [giggle]

Alastor: [Sly chuckle, his voice dripping with mock innocence and teasing delight] Oh, dear. It seems I’ve struck the nail right on the head, haven’t I? [He leans in closer, his tone dropping to a smooth, mischievous murmur.] Tell me, Lucifer... do you enjoy being tickled?

[He pauses, letting the question hang in the air, his grin practically audible in his voice.] You can’t hide it from me, darling. Not in this state.

Lucifer: [His voice falters slightly, embarrassed and defensive] I-I don't enjoy it, Al! Stop trying to twist things! [He shifts uncomfortably again, trying to hide his reaction, but failing to suppress the soft giggles that escape him.] I-I don’t need you to do... whatever this is. [He trails off, unable to fully argue, as his voice still holds light giggling]

Alastor: [Grinning widely, his voice laced with amusement and satisfaction] Oh, Lucifer... You can deny it all you like, but your body is betraying you, my dear. [He trails a finger gently across Lucifer's ribs once more, his voice laced with playful menace.] How many times have you tried to get me to do this? Teasing, poking, all those little comments, your lack of the ability to speak the word tickle just now... I’m not blind, darling. I see right through you.

[He pauses, lowering his voice as he leans in closer, enjoying the subtle shift in Lucifer’s reactions.]

Alastor: [Softly, almost a whisper] So are you going to admit it? Or do I need to tickle it out of you?

Lucifer: [His voice cracks slightly as he tries to maintain his composure, a mixture of indignation and poorly masked laughter] A-Admit what? There’s nothing to admit! You’re just being your annoying ass self—and making things up! [He squirms slightly, his voice trailing into a nervous chuckle.]

Alastor: [Delighted, with a smooth, teasing edge] Oh, darling, denial suits you so poorly. [He lets his fingers glide teasingly down Lucifer’s sides, savoring every little twitch and suppressed giggle.] But don’t worry—I have all night to help you... [His grin audible as his tone becomes lower and conspiratorial] come to terms with the truth. [Alastor begins to ruthlessly tickle him.]

[Sound Effect: Bed sheets rustling.]

Lucifer: [Bursting into a fit of laughter, his attempts to hold it back completely failing as his voice becomes higher-pitched with each giggle] N-Nononono, Al—st-st-stop it! [His body twists and jerks, trying to escape the relentless tickling, but he can’t stop laughing.] Th-this isn’t funny, you—hic—you’re not going to—[He lets out another startled laugh, voice cracking as he squirms helplessly.]

Alastor: [Mockingly gasping, his voice playful and light] Oh, how terrifying! The mighty Lucifer, undone by a bit of... [He pauses, drawing out the word with a chuckle] tickling. [He leans in, his voice dropping to a sly whisper as his hands continue their assault.] Admit it, darling. You love this. You’ve been begging for it without even realizing it.

Lucifer: [giggling] No- I haven’t! I don’t enjoy this! You’re just being an ass!

Alastor: [Amused, continuing his tickling] Oh, my dear Lucifer, you're absolutely adorable when you're like this. [His voice lightens, teasing with a hint of mock sympathy] What was it you said about not liking it, hmm? Sounds to me like you're thoroughly enjoying yourself—don't worry, I won’t tell anyone. [He chuckles darkly, the sound of his fingers dancing over Lucifer’s stomach now, filled with a teasing melody.]

Lucifer: [giggling] No! Nonono [squeak] not there!

Alastor: Oh, not there you say? I see, this little spot on your tummy seems particularly effective. Let’s explore that a little more, shall we? Tickle tickle tickle!

Lucifer: [giggling] S-shut up!

Alastor: What’s wrong? Do you not like that word? How unfortunate, I happen to love it! Tickle tickle tickle! Oh, you have the sweetest little giggles, don’t you Luci?

Lucifer: [giggling] I can’t! I can’t!”

Alastor: "My, my, you’re squirming so much! Are you trying to get away, or are you trying to stay close? Something tells me it’s the second option!”

Lucifer: [giggling] You’re so mean!

Alastor: [In a low, teasing voice] Mean? Why, how rude. I’m just giving you what your heart desires! You can’t deny it forever, darling. Every laugh, every squirm... it tells me everything. [He wiggles his fingers around Lucifer’s stomach, delighting in the way he reacts]

Lucifer: [giggling] [trying to push Alastor’s hands away] You— [laughing] You’re impossible! Stop it already!

Alastor: I’m yet to hear an admission from you. Alas, desperate times do call for desperate measures!

Lucifer: [squealing] Ah! Not my wings, not my wing!

Alastor: "It’s almost like I’m discovering new things about you every moment, Lucifer. Who knew you’d be so sensitive here? Tickle Tickle! Just admit that you enjoy it and I’ll cease my attack on your sensitive little spots! Or would you want me to continue, hmm? Do you want me to keep going for the rest of eternity?

Lucifer! Okay! Okay! Okay, I like it! I like it, please stop! It’s too much!

Alastor: [grinning in his voice, pulling back slightly] But darling, you’re far too cute when you’re a little... flustered. [pauses, his voice softening slightly] Though, I suppose if it’s really too much, I’ll stop. For now.

[Sound Effect: Fixing blankets]

Lucifer: [sighs deeply, but with a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying the attention despite his protest] Thank you. You were getting close to a limit, Bambi.

Alastor: [teasing tone] Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior... for now. [humming lightly as he settles in beside Lucifer, his voice warm and affectionate] Wouldn’t want to push my luck too much. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Lucifer: [muttering with a slight chuckle, eyes still closed] I’m going to get you back for this, you know.

Alastor: [laughs lightly, still teasing] Oh, I’m sure you will, my dear. But for now, I think it’s time you let go and just... relax. [pauses with a softer tone] No more teasing, promise. Come, let me cuddle you to sleep.

Lucifer: [relaxing again, a quiet smile in his voice] Fine. [yawn] You’re lucky I love you.

Alastor: [smiling warmly] You aren’t wrong, my dear. I’m beyond lucky.

[jweekgoji]

I keep laughing when I think about the scene where Motorcycle!Reader is so small that they don't have their own charging chamber and have to live in someone else's charging chamber because after all they are so small that they don't take up much space.

TFO!Chars/Motorcycle!Reader [hcs]

tw: none, i guess. word count: ~1600 additional tags: gender neutral reader, cybertronian reader, motorcycle!reader. characters included: B-127, Optimus Prime, Elita-One, Megatron, Sentinel Prime.

That is both a curse and a blessing in my opinion, but well, it depends on whom the tiny reader is stuck with 😋

I mean, >B-127 didn't even have his own place to sleep. All the yellow bot had, was a conveyor belt, which I doubt it was really comfortable, haha. Well then, after just ending Sentinel's regime, the ex-cogless group at least have some places to stay.

When Bee found out you'd be living with him for a while, he was overjoyed! First he made many, many new friends, gained the ability to transform, started working for the government, and now...he has a roommate? A real roommate? The one who can open their mouth when 🐝 talks to them? The day couldn't be any better! (Not that Bee wasn't happy with Steve's company...).

To be fair, Bee himself isn't exactly a bad neighbor either. It all very much depends on what kind of personality you have. If you really get along well with him, despite his extremely emotional state, which sometimes seems to never end, then good luck!

Sharing a chamber with him is going to be an absolute challenge. We remember that he talks in his sleep, don't we? And if Shockwave was so sick of Bumblebee in that short time, imagine how you have to recharge, but now all you can hear, instead of the silence you crave, is constant mumbling into your audio receptors.

Sometimes he's just mumbling about what a cool day he had with Optimus or what an intense training session Elita gave him.

Sometimes you notice how his servos only pull you harder against him. For a moment, you'd probably sigh wearily or try to make some space between you until he starts whispering softly about how happy Bee is to have you in his life. He genuinely, really genuinely loves you. After cycles of being alone, he really misses your company. Will you decide to move him away from you nevertheless?

The next morning, surprisingly, he has no memory of what he told you at all.

> Optimus apologizes to you so much when he finds out that now, unfortunately or thankfully (?), they don't have any time or resources at all to build new quarters. The new Prime has so many new responsibilities that he doesn't even know where to start! He has to clean up and fix Sentinel's mistakes, not to mention his divorce with D-16 Megatron, which has caused him a lot of trouble. But that's okay, our favorite Prime has a solution for that!

And as a good, true leader...yes, yes, you will be the one sharing the room. Lucky, huh? Oh, lucky you.

Optimus is actually one of the best candidates to share a chamber. I find that most of the time, he doesn't have much time to go to his room and fall asleep. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up later...alone. Was he with you? Did he come in at all? In response to this, you sometimes notice him passed out at his desk. You should definitely tell Elita about this to scold him about such a bad habit.

Actually, he'd be happy to share the charging chamber with you. The thing is, he's extremely shy.

When you fall asleep with him, there's just not enough room! Yeah, you're a pretty small bot, he's just so huge. It takes the two of you a long time to finally find the only comfortable solution.

With you on top of Optimus, you can put your helm on his chassis. The soft shimmer of the Matrix of Leadership doesn't bother you at all; if anything, it calms your nerves. All night long, your leader may never move from his position. He's so afraid he might accidentally hit you if he rolls over or decides to stand up...poor Prime, even Megatron didn't set such dangerous traps for him!

The first few nights, Optimus doesn't sleep much. He's nervous; he thinks up to the late night, but in the end, he can't resist you, and you two can get your well-deserved rest.

I think after Prime, the best candidate for your roommate would be >Elita. I like to think she always sleeps in “mom's pose” (if you know what I mean).

She can lie on her back with her servos on her chassis and not move a muscle all night. Other than that, she's a completely silent sleeper. Sometimes, you can stay up late at night; your shared room is unlit, and you don't want to turn on the lights so as not to disturb her. If she finds out you've been out the whole night instead of recharging, she'll kill you!

You swear you didn't even make the slightest creak, and just then, you see those bright blue optics staring at you in the darkness. Without even seeing her face, you know you're in trouble...She has very sharp hearing, unfortunately for you.

Elita isn't the tallest bot; sure, she's still taller than you, but her frame is pretty slim, unlike the others'. She is not the type to cuddle, even if you are extremely close to her. The most you can expect is her servo around your waist or shoulders.

You can tease her about it, but she'll try to deny everything, saying “just don't want you to fall and hit the floor 🙄” of course we all believe you, Elita!

I can see D-16 being a similar type to Optimus, but Megatron is a different story. I have no idea where our young Decepticon leader went with his guards, but at least they have a few cycles to spend building a base, especially one with all the comforts.

Megatron himself is not a fan of sharing, and when he realizes the problem, he doesn't even ask you if you want him to or not. You will share the chamber with him, period. Should you be worried or happy...?

Megatron, especially if we're talking about a young and inexperienced leader who was only recently forced to leave Iacon, is in need of support. He won't show it in front of anyone, not even you. But you know him enough to know what is troubling him.

He is so isolated, betrayed and saddened, he is afraid to open up to anyone else. And yet, he genuinely wishes someone could just hold him.

Megatron rarely sleeps. 24 hours a day, all he has on his mind is what he should do next. It used to be so easy; the mere thought of it makes him grit his teeth. When there was Sentinel, all that was required was to just follow the protocols. Now, with hundreds of high guard members expecting him to do something, he's lost.

At some point, Starscream or Soundwave will remind him of the importance of rest, and without any enthusiasm, he'll join you.

Now, the two of you are extremely awkward.

Of course, you can't tell much from his looks. Is he asleep? Or still lying there with his optics closed? This awkward silence makes you afraid to move. But the truth is, Megatron himself doesn't know what to do. You're so small compared to him; by some miracle, the two of you can fit, but it's so extremely uncomfortable.

Eventually, he can't stand it and just lifts you up to lay you on top of him. Luckily for him, you have no intention of moving away from him. Perhaps you're afraid; maybe you're okay with this change in positions. Either option is fine with him.

He repeats in his head that this is only temporary...when resources become available, you will get your own separate quarters, and you will be able to sleep separately. And yet, he doesn't want that. Your presence around him, for whatever reason, makes him forget his worries for a while, and he can finally rest.

You may disagree with me, but >Sentinel, no matter how sexy man people try to show him to be, would be just a terrible roommate! If he can even be called a roommate? Sometimes, he forgets that you're resting here too, and even if you remind him of that, he'll pretend to “listen” to you, only to forget after a while.

In fact, he could easily order a separate room for you; he's got plenty of them in his tower, but he's like.... no. He wants you around just because he can. There's no other reason.

I think he's more or less tolerable at first? He likes to keep something small next to him; imagine it like the cybertronian equivalent of plush toys, but only that toy is you. And it seems he may see you as such.

Every night, he can grab you at any time he wants and hold you against him. One time he just held you by his side; another time he decided to put his servo around you; tonight he wanted you on his chassis! The worst part is that his berth is quite spacious. And you can lie on the very far side, only for him to snatch you whenever he wants. Not very funny.

Recharging with him is pretty uncomfortable because those damn wings keep hitting you in the face every night. He's a pretty big bot on his own, and his wings are another big nuisance. Of course, he's not that terrible. Still, his room is very large, and you're probably very cozy, but Sentinel...sigh.

It's funny, but I like to think of him mumbling in his sleep too. Only this time all you can hear from him is about how often he praises himself. Wow.

[gerlionrise]

A Game Within the Game P4

Hwang In-ho ( The Frontman ) x reader Synopsis: In-ho wants you to kill the guard, shows you his world and asks for the last demand. AN: this one turned out long but it's worth it. Enjoy. The next part will be the last one so if you want to be tagged - let me know! + I will post a prologue to this story - how the reader and 001 met during the games and how their (your) relationship were building up. This is part 4. All parts are here.

In-ho led you through the winding corridors with an air of quiet authority, his hand lightly grazing your back as he guided you. The touch sent an unwanted spark up your spine, but you pushed it down. You were angry, furious even, but the man’s presence was magnetic, and you hated yourself for noticing it.  

The room he brought you to was dimly lit, glowing with the eerie light of dozens of screens and monitors. A hum of machinery filled the space, punctuated by the occasional beep or crackle from the speakers. The control room.  

"This," In-ho said, his voice calm but tinged with something deeper, "is where it all happens. Every decision. Every outcome. Every life and death."  

He gestured to the wall of screens, each displaying a live or archived feed from various parts of the compound. You recognized the dormitory where players once slept, the fields where games were played, even the corridors you’d walked down to get here.  

You folded your arms, doing your best to look unimpressed. "So this is your throne room. Where you play god."  

In-ho remained serious. "You see it as cruelty. I see it as… balance."  

He walked over to a sleek black console and tapped a few keys. One of the screens flickered, shifting to a video. It showed a group of players—dressed in those now-familiar green tracksuits—huddled in a corner, whispering. The audio was muffled, but In-ho adjusted it until their words were clear.  

"If we kill them during the next game no one will notice," one man hissed, his eyes darting nervously.  

"It’s survival,” another added.  

You stared at the screen, unable to tear your eyes away as the next scene played out. The group attacked another group during the game, their movements frantic and violent. The victim’s cries echoed in the control room before fading into silence.  

In-ho turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. "This is what I see. Time and time again. People who claim they deserve better, who say they’re victims of circumstance, showing their true colors."  

You swallowed hard, your anger faltering for a moment. "That doesn’t justify what you do. You put them in that situation. You made it worse."  

"And yet," he countered, "they made their choices. Tell me, do you think they were innocent?"  

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.  

He showed you more—clips from past games, players betraying one another, alliances dissolving into chaos, greed and desperation painted across every screen. Hours passed, the weight of what you were seeing settling heavily in your chest.  

Finally, you leaned back in your chair, “You can stop it," crossing your legs and fixing him with a sharp look you continued, “Let’s play a game of my own."  

In-ho raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your game?"  

"One question a day," you explained, "you answer it honestly, and I’ll do whatever one thing you want. One question — one command.”  

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Whatever I want?"  

You nodded. 

He considered your proposal, the silence stretching between you. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he agreed. "Deal. What’s your first question?"  

"How did you become the host?"  

His smile faded, replaced by something more somber. He leaned against the console and took a moment before answering. "I was a player once. Years ago. I won."  

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. You studied his face, trying to read between the lines. "And then?"  

"Then I was given an offer," he continued, his tone flat. "To become the host. To oversee the games instead of participating. I said yes."  

"Why did you play in the first place?" you pressed.  

His gaze sharpened, and he shook his head. "That’s a question for another day."  

You rolled your eyes but let it go. "Fine. So, what do you want me to do today?"  

He straightened, his demeanor shifting back to that calm control.

"I want to show you something else."  

You frowned, skeptical. "Another room full of screens?"  

"Not quite," he said, his lips quirking in that faint smile again.  

—

In-ho led you into another room, the air heavy with a suffocating stillness. It looked like a military command center, with dark walls and sparse furniture. Standing rigidly in the middle of the room was a pink-suited guard with a triangle mask. You froze the moment you saw him, your chest tightening with anger and something darker—fear.  

“This,” In-ho said calmly, gesturing to the guard, “is the one who shot you that day.”  

Your body tensed immediately, the ache in your side flaring as if in memory of the gunshot. The wound wasn’t fully healed, and every throb served as a cruel reminder.  

“You brought me here for this?” you hissed, glaring at In-ho.  

He ignored your outburst, his tone steady and dispassionate as he continued. “This guard also killed players 333, 120, 034, 036, 234, 283, 012, 99, 101, 292... and at least ten others.”  

The numbers fell like stones into a deep, cold well inside you. You recognized some of them. Faces of people you’d spoken to, laughed with, cried with. Players you’d trusted. Your friends.  

Your anger boiled over, a rage that was as much for them as it was for yourself. “Did he shot me as a part of your plan too?”  

In-ho remained composed, “No. That’s why you’re standing here now. But the guard violated the rules of the game — they all had a command not to shoot at you.” His eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling calm.

The guard didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but you swore you could feel the weight of his gaze behind the mask. It only made your fury grow.  

In-ho extended his hand, and you turned to see him holding a gun. “If you want vengeance,” he said, his voice eerily soft, “here’s your chance. I won’t stop you.”  

You stared at the gun, then at the guard. Your hand hovered hesitantly before finally grasping the cold metal. The weight of it in your palm felt foreign, but your grip tightened instinctively.  

“You want me to kill him?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

“Or her. And like I said — I wouldn’t mind,” In-ho replied, his tone as manipulative as ever. “After all, this guard taken quite a lot from you.”  

Your fingers hovered over the trigger as you raised the gun. The barrel pointed directly at the guard’s chest. The idea of pulling the trigger sent adrenaline coursing through your veins. You wanted justice. You wanted retribution.  

But then it hit you — this was another one of In-ho’s games. He was watching, testing you, manipulating you.  

Instead of firing at the guard, you turned abruptly, swinging the gun toward In-ho. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t flinch. He simply watched you with the same maddening calm, like he knew you wouldn’t do it.  

"If you want vengeance?" you repeated his words. "You just want me to punish the person who broke the rules of your game the same way you do it. I’m not your puppet,” you spat, glaring at him. “You won't turn me into yourself.”  

In-ho tilted his head a little bit irritated, "You're smart." He glared at the gun pointed at him, “That's why you won’t pull a trigger.”  

You knew he was right. Shooting him would mean your own death seconds later. And deep down, you weren’t sure you could do it.  

He stepped closer, gently pressing down on the barrel of the gun until it pointed at the floor. “That’s enough for today,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to kill the guard if you don’t want to.”  

You frowned, narrowing your eyes at him. “So that’s it? You’re not going to make me shoot him?”  

“No,” he said simply, turning toward the door. “You should go back to your room. It’s late.”  

The guard remained motionless.  ---

The walk back to your bedroom was tense, the silence between you heavy. When you stepped inside, you turned to face him, crossing your arms defensively.  

“What now? Another lecture about how I owe you my life?” you asked, your tone sharp.  

In-ho’s gaze darkened slightly. “You do owe me something. Remember our game?”  

You raised an eyebrow, the sass in your voice unmistakable. “What, your command is to fuck with you? Is that what you’ve wanted all this time?”  

In-ho’s calm demeanor remained still, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s not what this is about,” he said coolly.

“Then what?” you challenged.

He reached into a small black bag and pulled out a worn paperback book, handing it to you. “You’re going to read this.”  

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “A book? Seriously?”  

“Animal Farm by George Orwell,” he said, ignoring your incredulous tone. “It's small, you’ll read it tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll ask you questions about it.”  

You stared at the book, then back at him, incredulous. “That’s your big demand? What’s the point of this?”  

“The point,” he said, stepping closer, his voice quieter but no less firm, “is to see if you’re capable of understanding the world as it really is. Of seeing why I do what I do.”  

You rolled your eyes but snatched the book from his hand. “Fine. But don’t expect me to agree with you just because of some stupid book.”  

In-ho smirked faintly, already turning to leave. “Of course.”  

As the door closed behind him, you sat on the bed, the book heavy in your hands. You didn’t know what game he was playing now, but you weren’t about to lose.

—

The next morning, you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your still-sore side absentmindedly. The smell of fresh coffee and something savory greeted you, and there, at the sleek black table, sat In-ho. He was already halfway through his breakfast, his posture relaxed but undeniably commanding. His black shirt clung to him just right, making it hard to look away.  

“Good morning,” he greeted, his tone even, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of warmth.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee. “What are you eating?” you asked, gesturing to his plate as you stood across from him.  

“Eggs,” he said simply. “Want some?”  

“I’ll survive,” you quipped, sipping your coffee. “But thanks for the offer, chef.”  

His lips twitched, amused by your sass. 

The conversation turned casual, almost playful. For a moment, it felt... normal. A stolen slice of humanity in this surreal nightmare you found yourself trapped in. But, of course, In-ho couldn’t leave it at that.  

“So,” he started, his tone shifting slightly as he set down his fork. “Tell me, what did you think of the book?”  

You shrugged, already sensing where this was going. “It was... fine. Kind of depressing, though.”  

“That’s the point,” he replied smoothly. “The greed of livings, their willingness to betray, kill, and destroy for power and money—it’s all there. Don’t you think it’s ironic? They fight for their ideals, only to become what they despised.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about the book, or are you giving me a lecture about your games?”  

He smiled faintly, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Both.”  

You leaned on the table, refusing to let him steer the conversation. “Speaking of games, the guards didn’t come this morning to check my wound. Did you tell them to skip it, or is neglect just part of the service here?”  

In-ho paused, then sighed. “I forgot. Today, all the guards are busy running tests on some new equipment.”  

You frowned, not buying it entirely. “And what am I supposed to do? Just let it fester? I want it to heal as soon as possible so I can leave.”  

He stood, walking over to a cabinet and retrieving a first aid kit. “I’ll do it myself,” he said, setting the kit on the table.  

Your heart skipped at his sudden assertiveness. “Oh, so now you’re a doctor too?”  

He smirked, pulling out supplies. “Sit,” he ordered, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.  

You hesitated, but the authority in his tone left little room for argument. You perched yourself on the edge of the table, feeling your pulse quicken as he moved closer.  

In-ho knelt slightly, his face level with your waist as he reached for the hem of your shirt. “May I?”  

You nodded, trying not to show how much his proximity was affecting you.  

His fingers brushed your skin as he carefully lifted your shirt, exposing the bandage over your wound. His touch was surprisingly soft, almost tender, as he peeled back the dressing. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shiver involuntarily.  

“Still hurts?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost intimate.  

You swallowed hard, trying to sound unaffected. “Not as much as it did.”  

He glanced up briefly, catching your eyes before returning to his task. “You’re healing faster than I expected.”  

As he cleaned the wound with gentle precision, his fingers grazed your skin again, sending a wave of heat through you. You hated how aware you were of him, of his closeness, of the way his brows furrowed in concentration.  

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you said, your tone light but edged with tension.  

“I’ve had practice,” he replied, his voice even.  

“Let me guess,” you teased, “patching up players before sending them back out to die?” He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours. He didn’t answer.  

When he finished, he secured the bandage in place, his fingers lingering for just a second too long before pulling away. He straightened, stepping back to give you space.  

“Done,” he said simply.  

You hopped off the table, adjusting your shirt. “You know,” you said, smirking as you picked up the first aid kit, “I think you lied about the guards. You just wanted to play doctor.”  

In-ho’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Believe what you want.”  

Your smirk widened. “I usually do.”  

The tension between you hung in the air for a moment before you broke it. “Let’s continue our game. You have to answer me a question.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”  

“Where does all the money come from?” you asked, your tone deceptively light.  

For the first time, In-ho seemed caught off guard. He hesitated, his composure faltering ever so slightly before he schooled his features again.  

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, his voice quieter now.  

“Because it’s part of the deal,” you replied, “and because I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer.”  

In-ho sighed, his eyes darkening as he leaned against the counter opposite you. “The money comes from our investors — the VIPs. Powerful people who pay to watch the games, to bet on the outcomes. They fund everything—every death, every prize, every room in this place.”  

You stared at him, your stomach churning. “So you’re saying it’s all dirty money from psychopaths who enjoy watching people die?”  

He didn’t deny it, his silence speaking volumes.  

You shook your head, laughing bitterly. “And you’re okay with that? With taking their money and using it to—”  

“To run this system,” he interrupted, his voice cold. “A system that shows the truth about humanity. About greed, desperation, and survival.”  

You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words pressing down on you. It was horrifying, but part of you couldn’t help but wonder—was he right? Were people really as monstrous as he believed?  

But you weren’t ready to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. Not yet.

"You're telling me," you hissed, glaring at In-ho, "that these people—these VIPs—spend their money just to watch people suffer? To watch them die?"  

“It’s not just about watching. It’s about power. They see themselves as gods controlling the lives of mortals. To them, this is the ultimate entertainment.”  

You clenched your fists. “They’re monsters. Every single one of them, and you too, ” you was hoping it would hurt him. In-ho stood unfazed. 

“I want to see them,” you continued. 

His mask of indifference wavered for a moment. “What would you achieve by that?”  

“I don’t care,” you snapped. “I want to see them. And I want to kill them.”  

In-ho chuckled, “That’s not possible.”  

“Then make it possible!” you challenged. “You want me to see things your way? Fine. Let me see them with my own eyes. I want to know the kind of people who think this is entertainment.”  

For a moment, he seemed to consider your words. Then he sighed, the kind of sigh that hinted at resignation. “There’s a welcome party in a week. The VIPs will be here to discuss the results of the previous game and plan for the next one. You can come.”  

You blinked in surprise, not expecting him to relent so easily. “Really?”  

He stepped closer, his tone firm. “Yes, but you'll have to be with me the whole evening.”  

You frowned, suspicious. “Another one of your tricks, In-ho? You just want to keep controlling me.”  

He tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “Think what you want. But if you want to be in that room, you’ll be by my side. Just like you promised me during on of the games, remember?”  

“If it came down to it, would you choose me? I mean, would you stand by me? No matter what happens. No matter what I say or do. Would you be on my side?”  

“I… I don’t know, I mean, I trust you, but—”  

“That’s all I need. Your trust. Promise me you’ll stay by my side. No matter what.”  

“Okay. I promise.”  

You stared at him, the fire in your chest burning with memories, but you couldn’t ignore the logic in his words. Finally, you relented with a begrudging nod. “Fine. But only because I want to see them for myself.”  

---

The week passed in a blur. In-ho was gone most days. You spent your time trying to figure out what you’d do at the party, but every scenario you came up with ended the same way—with rage and no resolution.  

When the day finally arrived, you slipped into a fine black dress that hugged your body in all the right places. It was beautiful—too beautiful for the dark purpose of the evening. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a strange mix of power and vulnerability staring back at you.  

In-ho entered the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. His sharp black suit made him look every bit the intimidating figure he was, and when his eyes landed on you, they lingered.  

“You look good,” he said, his voice low and almost… gentle.  

You didn’t respond, turning to face him fully instead. 

He handed you a geometric black mask identical to the one he was holding, the Frontman mask. You immediately frowned, holding it up in disbelief. “I’m not wearing this. I don’t want to look like you.”  

His expression didn’t change, but his tone turned colder. “If you don’t wear it, they’ll figure out you were a player, and they’ll demand answers—or worse.”  

You hesitated, hating that he was right. The mask felt heavy in your hands, both physically and metaphorically.  

“Fine,” you muttered, putting it on. “But don’t think for a second this makes me one of you.”  

In-ho’s lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk. “Of course not.”  

He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. His fingers were warm, his grip firm but not forceful. He led you out of the room, through the labyrinth of hallways, and into a world you weren’t ready for.

---

The party was ridiculous. The wealth on display wasn’t just obscene; it was suffocating. Every surface shimmered with gold, every plate piled high with food most you couldn’t even pronounce. The guests moved like predators, masks gleaming, their voices dripping with casual cruelty. They talked about the games as though they were nothing more than a sport—entertainment for the bored and soulless.  

You hated it. Every laugh, every boast made your skin crawl.  

And yet, In-ho never left your side. His hand rested firmly on yours or your waist, a silent reminder that he was there, even as his own body betrayed his distaste for the event. He didn’t like this party any more than you did.  

At one point, a man in a lion-shaped mask sidled up to you both, his voice loud and grating. “The new games this year were fantastic,” he said, chuckling darkly. “The way they turned on each other—it’s always the best when they do the work for us, isn’t it?”  

You stiffened, the words hitting you like a slap. Your stomach churned with revulsion.  

“I bet on 334 and lost,” the man continued, waving a hand dismissively. “Stupid cow. She was too slow, too weak. Should’ve known better.”  

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. “How dare —”  

In-ho’s hand slid to your lower waist, his fingers pressing firmly against your side. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.  

“She’s new to all this,” In-ho interjected smoothly, his voice even but cold. “Still adjusting to what the games entail.”  

The man laughed, oblivious to the tension. “Ah, I see. She’ll learn." The lion-masked man waved you off, already turning to another guests.

You turned to glare at In-ho, your lips parting to say something you but he cut you off before you could speak, "Do not say anything to them." 

You hissed, “I can’t stand these people. They’re disgusting.”  

---

At one point, you were left alone by the champagne table. In-ho was across the room, deep in conversation with one of the biggest investors. From his posture, it was clear the discussion was serious. But then the investor’s face shifted toward you. He pointed in your direction, saying something that made In-ho stiffen.  

“The woman you brought tonight,” the man said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “She’s... intriguing.” His eyes under the mask lingered on you, “I want her in my suite tonight.”  

A flicker of something dark passed over In-ho face though no one could see it. He remained composed, but his voice was colder than usual when he replied, “She’s not available.”   

The man chuckled, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t recall asking. I’m telling you. I want her.”  

“She’s not available,” In-ho repeated. His voice was colder now, his words deliberate. “She’s my co-host. Not someone to entertain our guests.”  

The wolf-masked man’s laughter faded. “I don’t fund these games to hear no, Frontman. I’m sure you understand.”  

“And I’m sure you understand that this discussion is over.” In-ho’s voice was steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it.  

The man glared at him for a moment before scoffing and walking away, muttering something under his breath.  

In-ho immediately crossed the room toward you, tension radiating off him in waves. His mask couldn’t hide the anger in his sharp movements as he approached.  

When he reached you, his voice was low, laced with irritation. “Enjoyed the party?” he asked, his tone cutting.  

You blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”  

His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, his words clipped. “You’re done here. Go back to your room.”  

Before you could respond, he motioned to two guards, who immediately stepped forward. “Escort her back,” he ordered.  

The guards moved to your side, their presence leaving no room for argument. You glanced at In-ho, flabbergasted by his sudden change in mood. He didn’t say another word, just turned back to the party, leaving you to wonder what had just happened—and why he was so angry.

---

The whole memories, dialogues, all those people from the party swirled in your head like a storm as the guards escorted you back to your room. Each thought churned your stomach, feeding a fire of anger and disgust within you. 

When you entered your room, the silence felt deafening, suffocating. The anger bubbling inside you finally boiled over. The thought of people dying here for years, desperate to hold onto their lives for the sake of their families—parents, children, loved ones—only to be slaughtered for the sick entertainment of these wealthy monsters made your blood run hot.  

With a scream of rage, you grabbed the nearest thing—a lamp—and hurled it against the wall. The shattering sound was cathartic, but it wasn’t enough. You began smashing everything in sight: anything you could lift was thrown or broken until the room looked as wrecked as you felt inside.  

An hour later, you stood amidst the destruction, breathing hard, your fists clenched. That was when you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door opened, and there he was—In-ho. Calm and composed as always, his mask gone, his face unreadable.  

“What the hell do you want?” you screamed at him, the sight of him only igniting your fury all over again.  

He took a step inside, closing the door behind him. “The party is over. I came to check on you.”  

“Check on me? Check on me?” Your voice cracked with rage. “You’re a monster! A psychopath! How can you live with yourself, running this—this slaughterhouse?”  

You charged at him, fists flying. You punched his chest, his arms, anywhere you could reach, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move to stop you, his expression as cold and detached as ever.  

Your fists collided with his chest over and over, but he stood there, unflinching, as if your blows were nothing more than a breeze. “How could you?” you yelled, voice raw with fury. “How could you stand there and watch people die? How could you want me to be part of this? You’re a fucking monster!”  

He didn’t respond, his face stoic, though something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something restrained. Your anger bubbled over. Another punch, another scream of rage, but before you could throw your next strike, he moved.  

In an instant, his hands cupped your face, firm and unyielding, and then his lips crashed against yours.  

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, consuming, like a dam breaking after a long time of holding back. His lips moved against yours with a raw intensity, silencing your screams and swallowing your fury. You froze for a moment, shocked by the suddenness of it, but his grip on your face didn’t falter, pulling you deeper into the kiss.  

You felt his breath, warm and uneven, against your skin as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, gentle despite the fire of the moment, as though he couldn’t resist the softness of your skin. His desperation was palpable, days of suppressed emotion pouring into the way his lips claimed yours.    

Then, clarity snapped back. You shoved him hard, your palms pressing against his chest, breaking the connection between you.  

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed, your voice low and venomous.

In-ho didn’t move. His hands dropped to his sides, but his eyes remained fixed on you, dark and intense. His breathing was heavier now.

“I want to go home,” you finally said, your voice breaking this time. “I want to leave this nightmare. I don’t want to be part of your sick games.”  

He didn’t react to your words, not immediately. Instead, he adjusted his stance, his tone even and composed. “You’re forgetting something,” he said quietly.  

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”  

“Our game,” he reminded you, his eyes steady on yours. “Last week, I answered your question. That means...”  

You clenched your fists again, the reminder of your agreement making you feel trapped. “What do you want?”  

“I need you to come with me tomorrow,” he said. “One place. After that, you’re free to go.”  

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but his expression was unreadable. “One place?” you repeated suspiciously.  

“One place,” he confirmed. “That’s all.”  

You didn’t trust him, not entirely, but the thought of finally leaving this place was too tempting to resist. After a long pause, you nodded. “Fine. Tomorrow. Then I'm gone."

Before you could react, a faint hissing sound filled the room, and a sweet, cloying scent followed. Your head whipped around, panic rising in your chest, but it was already too late. Smoke began to seep through the corners of the door, curling like ghostly fingers into the air around you.

“In-ho!” you shouted, your voice sharp and accusatory. He was already standing at the doorway, his expression cold but deliberate.

“What are you—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as dizziness swept over you.

Your legs buckled, and the room swam before your eyes. The world tilted, your breath shallow as the smoke wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Darkness crept in, and the last thing you remembered was the sound of your own heartbeat, slowing, before everything went still.

///

Part 5 will be posted tomorrow. Drop a comment so I could tag you!

Also there will be a prologue - you can find all the chapters and information here. tag list: @nellabear @69-gojos-wife-69 @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @riri53 @annasnape7 @vivaforeva @luv1ze @saiannicebaby @wwastro @bellababes-xx @bluechaoslizzy @raideyo @enzosluvr @the-silentium @r3va-dwme

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.