#and finding the source isn't helpful to treatment

[gaza-giving-tree]

Imagine waking up in the dead of night to the terrified screams of your child. You quickly turn on your phone's flashlight to find your son's face covered in blood. The source of the injury is even more terrifying: rats have gnawed through the fragile walls of the tent you call home, and viciously attacked your son, causing severe injury to his face.

This isn't just a story. This is the nightmare that Hossam Al-Qazzaz and his family lived, just a few short days ago.

@hananqazzaz @hossamqazzaz12

Story written by @rumiandroses

The past year of Hossam Al-Qazzaz’s life has been one of unimaginable hardship and resilience. Forced to flee their home in Gaza, Hossam and his family returned to find nothing but rubble—everything they had worked for destroyed. With no other option, they pitched a small, humble tent over the ruins of their house, hoping to create some semblance of shelter amidst the devastation.

Life in this fragile tent is a daily battle for survival. Bombings persist, food and water are scarce, and the safety they once knew is a distant memory. One terrifying night, Hossam’s son Bashar was attacked by rats that invaded their tent, leaving him injured and crying for help. Unable to afford medical treatment or secure a proper tent to shield his young children, including a 4-month-old baby, Hossam now faces a dire reality: how to protect his family from illness, hunger, and the constant threats of their surroundings.

Hossam’s plea is simple yet urgent—he hopes to treat his son Bashar, find a safer tent for his family, and ensure his children can sleep without fear of rats or stray animals. Every donation, no matter how small, can help Hossam rebuild a safer life for his family. Your support could provide the relief they so desperately need and bring hope to a family struggling to survive in unimaginable conditions.

Help Hassan secure safety, medical care, and the bare essentials his family needs to endure this crisis.

Please consider donating to Hossam’s GoFundMe, [HERE].

This campaign has been vetted by @gazavetters and is (#287) on their list of verified campaigns.

[keferon]

Why’d monster hunter brainstorm timetravel to the specific era the story takes place?

Will the others ever see his alt mode?

The reason is the same as in canon - he wanted to save Quark.

Okay, I'll try and keep this short and sweet.

Brainstorm lives in the far future and is happy with Quark, until one day it turns out that Quark has a fatal spark disease that will kill him if nothing is done about it. They of course go to the hospital, but it turns out that only certain types of the disease are treatable and modern science still can't do anything about it.

Long story short, no one knows how to cure Quark's spark.

Brainstorm, as a true scientist and a good conjunx, naturally begins to research the subject himself and stumbles upon some strange information. All the sources, studies and records on the study of this disease go back a long fucking way. All that modern scientists have been doing for the last million years is just improving and refining the method of treatment, which was invented in absolute antiquity.

Brainstorm investigates further.

He discovers, all the original research records belonged to a mech named Perseptor, who amongst many other things was studying sparks. And it's when Brainstorm manages to get his hands on copies of these very original records that he finally realises why no one has been able to take this research any further. The records are very well structured, detailed and accurate, but half of the information is taken out of nowhere. The Perseptor specifies the types of sparks that certain substances affect in certain ways, but nowhere does he mention where he got this information from. He might, for example, write that certain types of sparks tend to develop internal micro-cracks when exposed to certain factors for long periods of time. And Brainstorm, having read that, can only stare blankly into space, because yes, micro-cracks in sparks is something that exists. But even in his time, there's no equipment that can detect them if they're INSIDE. So how the hell did an ancient mech with his primitive tools figure all this out???

His curiosity isn't satisfied. The research just cuts off in the middle, as if the mech that did it just abandoned it or died suddenly.

Brainstorm, like many scientists before him, tries to start his own research based on the information pointed out by Perseptor, but finds himself at the same dead end as all the medicine of his time. He just doesn't have the same mysterious way of collecting data that this...Perseptor had.

And Quark isn't getting any better

Eventually, Brainstorm comes up with a brilliant idea. What if, instead of trying to find a cure, he just (ha! Just.) went back in time and saved the dude who was definitely going to invent the cure but didn't have time? He decides it's genius and creates a time machine.

He goes back in time to find Perseptor and well, he gets a surprise. Turns out the dude who researched spark disease was a spark eater. And also on the verge of starvation, but Brainstorm finds a way to help him, it's all good:) It turns out that all this time, Perseptor didn't have any mysterious equipment to analyse the sparks, he was the equipment himself. In fact, he didn't specify the sources of his findings for the research, because the phrase ‘I figured it out because it tasted different’ sounds incredibly compromising and would have signed Percy's death warrant if his notes had fallen into the wrong hands.

Next, I'm not sure how it would have developed. I think as the story progresses, Perseptor and Brainstorm work together to invent a cure for Quark. And then, if you like to cry, Brainstorm goes back to the future and cures him, and Perseptor stays in the past.

If you want adventure, Brainstorm could take Percy back to the future with him. Quark would be really fucking scared and confused at first, but they'd figure it out quickly and conjunx Percy into their futuristic fluffy pairing. (Also, I have a lot of fun thinking about Brainstorm and Quark showing Percy the advances of future science, and the future world in general.

Also, I think Brainstorm would do a good job of hiding his alt mode while he was in the past, but a couple of times would use it to escape from someone. One time he'd also give Percy a ride, and I know Percy would be incredibly freaked out by the breakneck speed that jets can achieve ahahaha

——

That…wasn’t as short as I wanted…..my inner fic writer took control

[the-kr8tor]

A Song Stuck in Your Head

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 17.8k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW violence mention, CW alcohol, TW death mention, CW food mention, CW blood and injury. Slowburn, Part 4 of ink and bedrock, noxian! Reader. Spoilers for s2.

A/N: Thank you for reading Ink and Bedrock!!

Ekko Masterlist

Navigation

Part 3 <<< Part 4

The chair under Ekko feels stiff as he skims through a pile of what are supposedly Viktor's documents. He had asked a favour to one of his firelights to look for any evidence of Viktor existing. And sure enough, after a month of turning up with nothing, the firelight pulled through. She said she found it in an undercity hospital, packed tightly together by worn down rubber bands atop of other hospital documents. The birth certificate isn't much, but it's evidence that he was real, you'll be ecstatic to know that your search is over. He can't wait to show it to you and for you to shove the evidence at the council's faces. You're right about one thing, you can't truly erase history.

While he's thinking about you, his ears pick up the sound of your laughter outside the treehouse. His brows knit together in confusion since you didn't schedule anything with him for today. It's one of those boring days when he doesn't get to meet up with you to talk to random people. Ekko has noticed that simply being outside has helped his head clear up. The companionship is a bonus, he thinks.

As he stands up from his seat, his knees creak, prompting him to stretch all his aching muscles from the prolonged position. Taking the papers, he gets on his board to meet up with you. It might not be his day with you, but you're already in the hideout so he might as well hand it to you.

Ekko's questioning look stays as he sees a crowd gather around you. “Please don't be an angry mob.” He mumbles under his breath as he lands right next to you.

“Hey, Ekko!” Your eyes brighten the second you see him, but you're already floating away when he landed. “Bye, Ekko!”

“Wha—” he stares wide eyed at the humming hoverboard carrying you. A chuckle sounds out behind him, when he looks at the source, he finds Scar grinning at him. “What's this? Is that your board?” He points at the squealing you, just floating above the crowd.

“Relax, Ekko.” Scar gives him a lopsided smile as he lifts up his open palms at Ekko in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “She wanted to learn how to ride so I showed her the basics. She's a quick learner.”

“Yeah, relax, Ekko!” Scar's carbon copied son smiles at him toothily. “I taught her.” He puffs out his chest proudly while his father mouths a ‘he didn't, I did.’

Ekko replies with a grunt, but he can't help but stare on with concern as you wobble atop the board while trying to balance yourself on it. He readies his own, just in case. The others find your lack of balance amusing.

“Take one step forward with one foot. Keep them separate.” Ekko instructs you, palms cupping around his mouth so you could hear it above the excited murmur.

“Okay,” you chuckle nervously, trying not to look down or else vertigo will make you plummet towards the crowd. You really don't want that to happen. “Got it, whoo!” Your shaky form subsides as the crowd hoots and claps at your achievement. “Thanks, Ekko! No thanks to you, Scar!”

Scar nudges Ekko, eyebrows wiggling at him. The firelights leader just gives him a hard stare, the same one he shows people he interrogates. Scar turns away immediately, but his teasing smile persists.

“You don't let anyone touch your board, why'd you even agree to this?” Now Ekko's giving him the same treatment like he's questioning Scar under a bright light.

Scar shrugs, “you're not the only one who's allowed to barter with her.” Ekko presses harder with a narrowed stare. Scar feels like he's about to get an hour more of patrol because of this. “I bet her that she can't stand on the board for a full five minutes without falling. If spark can do it, then she gets her interview with me.”

Ekko shakes his head, hands kept in his pockets but his feet stay on his hoverboard, ready to jump in. “How long has it been?”

Scar checks his pocket watch. “Two minutes, boss. Don't worry, she can do it.”

“Why didn't you just take her bribe?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar scoffs, “besides, it's worth it to see you all worried for our resident noxian.”

Ekko slowly cranes his head at Scar, eyes deadly and sharp.

“Shit!” Your yell and the crowd's shocked gasps immediately takes his attention away from his nervous right hand man. The hoverboard shakes, prompting you to fall on your knees and grip the sides. “Should it be making that noise?!” The way your wide eyes meet with Ekko's horrified ones has your worry cranked up to a hundred.

“I thought you fixed your engine?!” Ekko can't seem to take his eyes off you, like a trainwreck waiting to happen.

“I thought I did.” Scar says guiltily.

Then the engine sputters suddenly, green smoke billowing out from where it's not supposed to escape from, and with the board shaking and moving up and down uncontrollably, you suddenly fly off. Screams of terror fades in and out as the malfunctioning board takes you all over the hideout, leaving dark streaks of smoke in the air. With a thudding heart, Ekko leaps up in a split second, accidentally scattering the papers he gathered for you all over the crowd.

“Ekko!” You scream for him, knuckles gripping the sides desperately. There's a stabbing pain on your already broken wrist, the pain from it has your grip slipping.

“Hold on!” Ekko expertly flies, dodging buildings and the large protruding branches of his ginkgo tree. His hands reach for yours, but you're still too far for him to hold onto. Eyes widening, he sees a branch heading your way. It's dangerously close to clotheslining you. “Duck!”

Air stuck in your throat, you feel arms wrap around you instead of the pain of getting stabbed by a tree. He grips you tightly against him as you hide your face on the crook of his neck. His board spins around the tree from the momentum, leaves and sticks hit the two of you as he almost loses control until Ekko pushes down with all his might to stop it midair.

The hoverboard finally stops, meanwhile, Scar's hoverboard falls down rapidly, finally losing its fumes, it plunges down on sacks of flour placed next to the firelights bakery. White smoke puffs out like a volcano spewing out lava, filling the whole area with fragrant flour.

You blink, arms wrapped around his neck, and leaning away from the space you've hidden yourself on the crook of his neck as flour floats down on the two of you like snow. His arm holds you in place, while his other hand grips at your thigh while he holds you. He's kneeling on the board, half carrying you as the board floats above the wreckage.

Ekko stares at you, sun shining down on him, giving him a halo of light as the white powder floats in the air alongside the green glow of his board. His lips part slightly, as if he's about to say something, but he purses his lips together, adam's apple bobbing up and down while his thumb brushes away powder that landed on your cheek. His eyes shimmer, chest heaving against your own whilst you're completely frozen under him.

“Are you okay?” He finally speaks, eyes roaming around your form to check for injuries. If only you could see him through his eyes, you'd find the reason why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of him. He has noticed your attractiveness, it's hard not to, but now it's getting harder to ignore how beautiful you are under the glow of the dappled sunshine.

You swallow thickly, fingers kneading atop the back of his neck subtly. “I think so.”

“You're an idiot.” Ekko chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“An incurable disease, unfortunately.” You smile, fingers gently plucking away a stray leaf stuck on his hair. He hums in appreciation. “Flour looks good on you, firefly.” Dusting off the powder off his shoulder, you can't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

His index rubs away more powder on your chin, near the corner of your lips. Your breath hitches in your throat from the contact. “You have more on you, spark.”

You're starting to love the nickname now.

“Now we match.” You point at the white flour that's surely on your head then to his hair. “Does it look good on me at least?” You whisper, eyes soft as you stare at him.

“I can fry you up and we'll see.” His knuckles brush along your jaw, leaving white powder to stick on his palm.

Beaming up at him, the hoverboard slowly comes down on the flour covered ground. But your eyes stay on him, while he mirrors the same look you have.

“My hoverboard!” Scar's booming voice pops the peaceful bubble you two have, prompting you and Ekko to move away from each other.

Ekko hops off his board, giving you a helping hand. Good thing he did, or you would've fallen off the hovering tech that's barely three inches off the ground. Your legs feel like jelly, and your hand atop his own lets out a searing heat akin to a furnace.

“Thanks.” You mumble, refusing to look at his flour covered face that mixes in with his face paint lest you completely fall down on your knees.

“My flour!” Ekko lets go of your hand when the baker worsens the commotion as he comes stumbling out of his bakery.

“We'll order a new batch—” Ekko tries to reassure the baker, but the way he's cradling the sack of flour with a large hole on it, he thinks it's better to let the poor man mourn than try to reason with him.

You groan, apologies spilling from your lips. Sorries were thrown towards everyone for making such a fuss, especially at the baker and Scar. “I'll pay for it.” You tell the baker, but it falls on deaf ears. “Great,” you say sarcastically, wincing at how you probably ruined your image with the firelights.

“Scar,” Ekko straightens up, brushing off the powder fluidly, a picture of a leader. “Please salvage all the undamaged flour, then take a couple of people and go out to trade a few of our tech for the rest. Take my board.” He pushes down the end of his board, flipping it upwards into his waiting hand and then giving it to Scar.

He says his pleases despite being the leader and says it all without a condescending tone even though he's technically mad at you and Scar. Well, maybe just you, you guess.

“Got it.” The guilty firelight looks at you apologetically. You know you have that interview with him now.

“And Scar.” Ekko calls him back, and the poor man seems to stiffen. “Two more hours of patrol tonight, yeah?” Scar didn't even protest as he slinks away from the crowd. The rest of the firelights disperse, afraid that Ekko would give them work too.

“And you,” the fierce leader turns to you, head tipping back with a subtle smug smile. “Pick up the papers before the kids use it as a coloring book.”

“Wait,” you chuckle nervously, “that's it?”

Ekko raises a brow at you, eyes unreadable whilst he crosses his arms over his chest. “You want more?”

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, no thank you, bossman.” You're already walking away towards the scattered papers. “Picking up those papers right now!”

Ekko can't help the soft smile from appearing on his lips as you fight with the wind to grab a piece of paper floating around. He hears a tiny scoff right next to him, looking down, he sees Scar's kid, mimicking his posture.

“Some people, huh?” The five year old says in a serious tone, chin held up high and arms crossed over his chest.

Ekko ruffles the kid's hair. “Yeah, some people.” He says, looking at you with fondness.

—

Knocking on Ekko's door the same way you always do, he doesn't groan at your sudden appearance. Instead, he lets you in with a tired voice.

Peeking inside, you see that the room has gotten much brighter than the last time you stayed. The windows are fully open, letting in the breeze and the sunlight, the room looks more organized than before too. The scraps that used to trip you are now in boxes that are placed in the corner. You guess he started picking them up one by one after you complained about almost slipping on a metal wheel. The armchair you always sat on is still there beside him, his familiar jacket is laid atop it, as if he's keeping it warm for you. The bed you spent a week on is still in the corner, a blanket perfectly folded right next to a cardigan you keep ‘forgetting’ to pick up.

But the man himself hasn't changed, he's still scrunched up on his work desk, always working on something that either sparks or creaks.

“Hi,” you start, walking closer to his form.

“No.”

“I haven't even said anything yet!” You laugh, settling down on the armchair, body splayed over it lazily, chin propped up on its arm, and eyes blinking at him.

“It's not our day, spark.” He says, not looking at you as he continues to work.

“I know that. Can't I visit my friend?”

“While you're here go get your jacket.” He ignores your previous comment, gloved hand gesturing towards the bed.

“I lied, I'm actually here for a reason.” Lifting up the heavy chair, you scooch it closer to him, wood scraping annoyingly against the floorboards.

Ekko sighs, finally placing down the tool on the table to address you; only to find out that you're already looking up at him, twinkling eyes while your head is perched atop your palms.

“What?” He can't help but notice the glint in your eyes and the wide grin you have.

Tilting your head, your elbows dig on your knees as you sway slightly. “A few of the firelights and their kids are going down to the river since it's getting hotter now.”

“And?” He says, seemingly uninterested.

Your smile is replaced by a hurt frown. “Are you still angry about what happened? I'm really sorry, Ekko.”

He stares anywhere else that isn't your face. “Not your fault.” You gently smile at him. “Unless you rigged the board to go haywire.”

“I'm an idiot but not that kind of idiot.” You chuckle.

“You're not an idiot.” Ekko reassures you sweetly, meeting with your eyes with a smile like your own. “Just annoying.”

“Some people call that tenacity.”

“And who are these people, hm?” He teases, twisting back around to work. You chortle, sitting back as you stretch your hand that's still encased in plaster. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Inviting you actually.” You trace the signatures and drawings on the cast. “They said that you can fish in the rivers now because of the project. Thanks to you, Ekko.”

“I barely helped.” He scoffs, carefully putting together colorful wires.

“You helped a lot, genius.” You nudge his leg with your foot, and he grumbles as his hands move. “Shit, sorry.”

You expect a reprimand, or even telling you to get out. But instead, he tries again, nudging you with his own foot in retaliation. His boot leaves dirt marks on the hem of your pants, but you don't care one bit as you smile at him.

“Come on, you're glued to that chair. There's an Ekko shape indented on it already. Even Poro's coming with us.” You bite your lip, still trying to get him to come with you. “Please? Go see your handiwork in person and not just on blueprints.”

Ekko finishes his work, laying down his tools and yanking off his gloves. “If I come with you, will you shut up?”

You shake your head with a grin. “Nope.”

With a roll of his eyes, he stands up, surrendering to your request. “...fine.”

“Can we ride on your hoverboard?” You ask excitedly.

“No.”

—

The warmth of the sun bears down upon the small river that lies in the deep canyons and valleys threading Piltover. The water shimmers under the light, now clean, free of any garbage and stifling air billowing out of the rocky crevices. Laughter echoes around, bouncing off the rocky walls around the river bed.

Thanks to the combined efforts of Sevika and Ekko, the clean up project was a success. The river is clean because of Ekko's own design that self filters the water using wind turbines and new pipes that won't erode for at least a hundred years. His own design would surpass him, he smiles at the thought that years from now, when he's long gone, the people of the undercity would still have clean water to use.

It took some convincing, but the council finally approved his design when Ekko appeared before them with a better blueprint than what their engineers designed. It was mediocre, you said after taking a peek at the blueprint. And that he would do much better than them. So he did, he created something bigger than him, turned it into something better. And he got to see the result of it. He had to stand in front of them while trying not to glare at the pompous looks they have on. But the headache was all worth it to see his people fish and swim in the river.

Ekko pauses from doodling on his notebook, eyes crinkling at the corners when he realizes that he's drawing you and not the river which he was supposed to do. He captured the way you smile perfectly, and the way he shaded your eyes matches your own. He suddenly feels heavy, chest tightening, but a comfortable one, not the same one that has him choking on nothing— It feels warm, like the sun shining on you as you stand in the river.

You try to catch fish with your bare hands, even with the cast around your wrist, you still went in. He warned you that it might be bad to go and submerge it in the water, but you got too impatient and went into the river to snatch a fish after waiting for thirty minutes with the borrowed fishing rod only to come up with nothing. So there you are, pants rolled up, blouse unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up and wet at the hem, looking like you belong right in the undercity. As if you were born here with the same fire in your eyes that you have.

Sweat dribbles down Ekko's brow, watching you laugh and smile with his people. Poro yips beside him, happily wagging his tail as he tries to get Ekko's attention. He smiles at the dog, palm brushing along his soft fur. You've been taking care of him really well, his fur is much softer and healthy, and Poro has been happier than usual.

It's been months since you came to Piltover, nine months to be precise, and four months since you were attacked. You still haven't properly interviewed Ekko, and you haven't forcefully pushed him for it, preferring to get a few bits here and there. You always seemed happy enough with those small pieces of information, like a puzzle you're trying to piece together. Yes, you're still annoying as ever, but you always mean well. Ekko now thinks that he has finally gotten to read you like you have with him. You give him a simple look, and he immediately knows what you're trying to convey. You grasp his sleeve, and he stays, waits for you to get a hold of the present. There's still a lot of things he doesn't know about you or your past, but he knows you as you are right now, and that's enough for him.

Ekko glances back at you, remembering all the times he saw you handle interviews with an open heart, patience and compassion towards the person. You don't just ask questions, you help them relieve themselves with the burden of carrying those buried emotions. Just like you have with him by simply being there.

You feel the familiar gaze on you, looking to the side, you see Ekko already staring at you. Waving at him, you grin happily at him as the water laps against your legs. Surprisingly, he waves back, although brief, you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

Scar's son stands next to you, watching at the waist deep water with concentration as he tugs at your blouse to get your attention. “Are you sure you'll get one?”

“Shh, you'll scare the fish.” You ready your hands, ignoring the slight ache inside the cast. The doctor said you can get rid of it in a few days. You're looking forward to freeing yourself, but you're not excited about losing your research partner.

An iridescent shine catches your gaze, prompting you to shoot your arms out into the water. Splashes hit your cheeks, but the slimy feel under your palms has you guffawing. “I got it!”

“You got it?” Scar's son asks, his eyes turning wide when you lift up the twitching fish. “She got it!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Fish!” You yell, lifting up the large fish above your head and showing it to Ekko. He laughs, clapping his hands together slowly. Then Scar's kid suddenly leaps up and snatches the fish out of your hands. “My fucking fish!” Your scream of anguish has Ekko laughing boisterously, a sound that has you turning your attention towards him and not at the kid running away from you.

He continues to laugh, belly starting to ache as you watch on with sparkling eyes. Poro runs away, probably terrified that Ekko's letting out a sound that he's not used to. Instead, the dog bolts after Scar's kid, yelping and barking at him.

You dredge the cool water, looking up on his perch, grasping the edge of the rock where he's sitting. Ekko calms down when he sees you peek at him closer as if you're in awe of him simply laughing. Water droplets slide down your temple, hair damp and clothes sticking to your skin. He looks away, finding the pebble next to him more fascinating than your wet blouse.

“What?” He asks, a smile staying on his lips, brown eyes sparkling under the sun. His hair is pulled into a full bun, twists away from his face because of the heat, and his pants are rolled up, tank top showing off his arms.

You place your chin above your palms, fully endeared by him. Flicking his knee, you chuckle as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Nothing.” There's a lilt in your tone. Your eyes glance down, spying the portrait of you on his notebook. Several portraits of you on both sides of the pages.

He follows your gaze, face heating up and immediately shutting the notebook closed. Looking up to meet with your eyes, you have the most shit eating grin on your lips.

“I have something for you.” You say, pulse quickening. You're glad that you're already in knee deep water that's cool enough to smother the searing heat on your skin.

To his surprise, you don't mention what you just saw.

“It better not be council secrets.”

You chortle. “That was one time, firefly.” You rummage through your wet pockets. “Besides, that was me showing you and Sevika how easy it is to steal council documents during your meetings.”

“Sevika almost pummeled you, spark—” the golden charm on your palm has him stopping mid sentence. He flicks his eyes towards you, and you bashfully smile.

“It's an old earring I have that I lost the partner for years ago.” You explain, voice soft above the sound of gurgling water, remembering who gave you the pair years ago. “I managed to convince a blacksmith in Piltover to melt it into a charm for you.” Pointing at the dainty thing, you briefly look over to him with a smile as he admires the handiwork. “I designed it,” he cranes his neck to gaze at you. “I know, I know, hold your applause.” You joke, and he rolls his eyes. “I got the hourglass shape engraved on it, and…” turning it over, you show him the small ruby embedded in it. “...look, pretty, right?” You ask, unsure of his reaction.

Ekko beams at you, smile brighter and warmer than the sun shining down on the two of you. “Yeah, pretty.”

You let out a shaky exhale, now noticing that he's mere inches away from you. “It's for your hair.”

“I know it's for my hair.” Chuckling, Ekko unties his hair, letting the platinum strands fall over his hair like curtains. He swears he heard you stop breathing. “What are you waiting for?”

Your hands tremble for a second, but he stabilizes you with a soft hand around your wrist. You've faced creatures straight from your nightmares, trolls, and a whole army, but your hands haven't trembled like this.

Ekko watches you as you lean further to clip the charm around your chosen twist. His eyes roam around your face, how the corner of your lips tilt up into a subtle yet unsure smile. How your eyebrows knit together in concentration as if you're trying to disable a bomb and not putting a simple accessory on him. The sunlight illuminates your very being, and he can't help but marvel at you.

“There.” You whisper, snapping the charm close, making sure that it's secure. “You look good.”

“Just good?”

Chuckling, you move his chin to face you fully with your index. He lets you. “Handsome.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, never thinking that you'd tease him back with more heat than he ever thought you could hit him back with.

His hand still rests upon your wrist, slowly lifting up towards your palms. “I need to show you something.” Tone serious, but still gentle enough for you.

“Okay, right now?” You blink at him as he gives you a helping hand up, voice an octave higher than usual. There's a warmth in your stomach as butterflies wake up from excitement.

“Yeah, if you're okay with that.” He helps you up on the ledge.

“I'm more than okay with it.” You quickly gather your things, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Come on then!”

“You're still wet.” He raises a brow at you as he grabs his hoverboard.

“Y’know what, it's less work for you.”

“What?” He snaps his head towards you so quick you swear you heard something crack.

“Nothing, I'm sure I'll dry off from the ride there.”

You get on the board with Ekko as he shakes his head with a slight warmth on his cheeks.

—

You peek over Ekko's shoulder as he flies above Piltover. Hundreds of roofs and balconies whizz by, the silhouette of you and Ekko on his hoverboard can be briefly seen near the rooftops and windows. A trail of green light flickers behind you, and the sound of the humming machine under you brings a familiar feeling of comfort. It almost feels like home.

His hair whips around the comforting breeze, sun shining down on the charm you gave him. Smiling, your arms wrap tighter around his waist with the excuse of being afraid of heights. He lets you hold onto him, your face pressed on his shoulder blade as he feels the subtle smile atop his skin. His jacket flutters behind you, warming you up from your recent swim.

He taps the back of your hand, a simple yet affectionate way of reassuring you.

Lifting your head up, you see the looming hextower. It's just a station for traveling blimps now, there's no trace of the arcane left in it anywhere. The familiar feeling of magic doesn't hum against your bones when Ekko lands the board on top of its expansive dome roof.

You roam your eyes with wonder at the structure and the view in front of you. Piltover shines under the light, its golden and stark white laden buildings are a sight to behold. Right in the middle of the two cities lies the bridge of progress that was once a witness to brutality now holds hope and unity for the ever changing cities. And Zaun, with its metallic structures, bold shapes and hidden natural beauties and resources has your heart soaring from the sight that was previously unobtainable for you.

You gaze at the whole place, and all you can feel is that you're home. You've found love in a place you didn't feel welcome nor needed, and yet here you are, finding that it has wiggled its way into your heart. It took a while, nine months of it, but you no longer feel the heavy gazes upon your back, the restrained hatred behind their eyes. The whole council respects your words now, they no longer cut your words off, or belittle or even be afraid of you. And you found that same respect for them while you have watched each of them work together or individually for the betterment of their home and its people.

Sevika and the people of the undercity sees you as an equal now. Vi and Caitlyn have become your close friends, Babette has become a friend and an informat of sorts, keeping an eye out in exchange for your sweets. Steb has become awfully close to you throughout the months, you have no idea how, but you guess you've managed to charm the enforcer. So far, the other enforcers don't look at you with disdain, probably after seeing your handiwork on the shimmer trade you and Ekko put a stop to. They might not know why you were there in the first place, but it doesn't matter to them as long as you're on their side.

It took a lot for them to accept you. Slowly, but surely, they've accepted you in their home. And you'll be forever grateful that they gave you a chance. Even if you're going to leave one day, like all the places you've been, it'll always leave a mark on you and a corner in your heart. But you feel that this place will be different than the rest. He made it different, and difficult to leave.

Then you look back at Ekko and you feel exactly the same, he feels like home.

He watches the sun in your eyes, the reflection of the blue sky dancing in your irises. Giving you a hand, you take it without a second thought as he guides you down the hoverboard.

His hand is warm, calloused palms in the shape of a weapon that fits right atop yours that bears the mark of war.

“You okay?” Clenching his hand, you watch as his eyes stare into your own, then over to the undercity. “Ekko?”

“This and the hexcore were the first things they cleaned up after the fight.” He looks back at you, still holding onto your hand, afraid that you'll slip out of his grasp and slide downwards into the hard ground.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. “You don't have to tell me, Ekko. It's okay, you ended it, and that's all that matters.” You can feel his fingers tremble against your own.

“I never wanted anyone to know, until you.”

You take a step forward, hand shaky with trepidation as you reach to cup his cheek. “Off the record then, firefly.” To your surprise, he leans against your touch, eyes closed as he rests upon your palm.

You give him time to gather his thoughts, thoughts that must've plagued him for three– almost four years now.

“You can write about what happened up here. So it won't happen again.” He says as his fingers bracelet around your wrist. His voice is soft, whispered only to you and the wind.

Leaning close, you look at him through your lashes, head tilting to the side to look at his downcast eyes. “Tell me, let me carry it with you.”

“After Vander, I raced up here.” His lips spills everything to you as he recounts everything that transpired on that very roof the two of you stand on. “Jayce was standing there, beaten up and about to give up while this…I don't even know what Viktor did to look like that.” You hold him close, and he pulls you closer against him with a hand on the small of your back. “But, he was about to finish it. They almost got me, his puppets,” he squeezes his eyes shut as the memory flickers in his head, how the darkness ate at him, how encompassing the void was, and yet how beautiful damnation was. “I saw the sky,” he opens his eyes to your gentle smile, and hands holding him in place. “And did it.”

“You were a goddamn meteor to him when everyone else were just stars to him.” You say proudly, remembering how everyone else described the void like space. “Take it slow, Ekko.” You whisper, thumb brushing along a small scar on his temple.

“The Z-drive.” Ekko abruptly leaves your warmth, turning around and looking at the same spot where the explosion shook the whole building almost four years ago. He stares at the dark mark it left, right next to the only remaining stain the arcane left before it departed Piltover. “I threw it at him as a last resort. Fought magic with magic.”

Your heart aches at the thought of him sacrificing himself for both cities all without other people knowing what he did. He can't fade into obscurity.

You make your way towards him. Slow footsteps, and heart thudding in place when you see the colourful veins sticking to the floor. “It looks like muscle, like flesh ripped out.” You say out loud. He side glances at you and you wince. “Sorry, that was morbid.”

“Always with the colorful descriptions with you.” A small smile ticks up on the corner of his lips.

“Can't help it, it's kind of my job.” you reach for his hand, pinky wrapping around his own. Heart beating rapidly as fear of rejection encapsulates you.

Ekko smiles, looking down briefly on your intertwined fingers. “I need to show you something else. Do you trust me?”

“Ekko, I'm on top of the highest building in Piltover where you can easily push me off, and yet I'm here.” Smiling, the sun illuminates you from behind, giving you a halo of light that has Ekko's breath staggering in his throat. “Of course I trust you, firefly.”

With a nod, he guides you back towards the hoverboard.

—

Ekko stops the hoverboard over a chasm, it's deep and dark with what seems like there's no end in sight. You swallow down the vertigo as you look down at the void. Slowly, he descends down. The only source of light is the green light his board emits.

“If you weren't going to kill me on the roof then you'll definitely kill me here.” You hold onto him, hands grasping onto the straps of his top. “My hands are getting clammy just looking at it.”

Ekko hums, hand holding your own in reassurance. “It's perfect, no witnesses.” He jokes, earning a smack on his shoulder from you.

“I'd like to see you try. You know I'll fight back right?” Whispering in his ear, goosebumps rise on his arms and you're ready to rub them down for him.

“I'll let you win.”

“And I won't hold back.” A sly smug spreads on your lips.

Ekko's gentle chuckle bounces around the cavernous walls. He grasps your hand atop his stomach, managing to wiggle his fingers around your own. It has you grinning from ear to ear as you hide your sudden bout of bashfulness on his shoulder.

“I'm guessing you already know what I've been doing in the mines?” You ask, tentatively looking over his shoulder to stare at him.

“You were in my backyard sniffing around, spark. ‘Course I would know.” He taps his thumb against the back of your hand. “What did you find?”

“Not much other than the appalling conditions the miners had to work in.” Sighing, you refrain from telling him the whole reason why you were out looking around the dangerous mines. You have a feeling he already knows.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing your sudden quietness as he glances down to look at the bottom of the chasm without fear. As if he has done it a dozen times before.

“Never better.” Smiling, your previous mood returns when you remember that he's still holding on to you. You don't want the ride to end. But alas, all good things must come to an end when the board hits something metallic.

Ekko pats your hand, signalling you to get off the board. You hop off, boots hitting the floating metal floors of what seems to be the remains of a structure. It creaks, making you hold onto the partial railing.

“Shit, Ekko, this doesn't look stable—!” Your eyes widen when he flies off and further into the chasm. “Ekko, you better not leave me here!” Hands sweaty and heart thrumming, you look around for stairs leading down below. The dark makes it harder to see, but with your hands in front of you, you try to get to sturdy ground. Before you know it, your feet brings you to a concrete ledge just behind the metal one he left you in. “I swear if he doesn't come back I'm going to—”

“Going to do what?”

“Fuck!” You jump in place, clutching at your heart. “You little shit!”

Ekko gives you a lopsided smile, snickering under his breath as he hops off the board. “What were you going to do if I didn't come back, hm, red?”

“I was going to…” you catch your breath, and step forward, the dark making it harder to look at what he's holding onto. “...to do absolutely nothing because you came back for me.” You smile sweetly, meeting him halfway.

“Huh,” he teases, free hand poking your side. “That's all?”

“Do you want me to tell you that I was planning on cutting off your balls or something?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I wasn't by the way. I'm not that mean.”

“I know, spark.” He sighs, “I—” he swallows down his anxiety. “I went down to get this.” Just as he says it, he brings the tech between the two of you, turning it on. The dim blue light flickers in and out, and the mechanical toy monkeys twitch and clap for a second before going dark. “This is the Z-drive.”

“The thing that caused the explosion?” You stare at it with curiosity, your fingertips brushing along the cracked glass.

“I activated it and threw it at Viktor. It doesn't work anymore, I picked up whatever’s left of it and built it again. But without the runes, it's just a paperweight now.”

“What exactly does it do?”

“Turn back time.”

You look at him so quickly that Ekko was afraid that you cracked something. “Shit, how'd you manage that?”

“You believe me? Just like that?” His brown eyes widen, in awe of what you just said.

“Yeah, it's you who said it. Of course I do.” You shrug casually, as if he just told you that the sky is blue. “Is that why you never told anyone about this? They wouldn't believe you?”

Ekko gazes at the tech in his hand, palm pressed on top of the cold glass. “That, and—” he sighs, rubbing at his face.

Your brows knit in concern. “Ekko,” holding his bicep, you try to comfort him. “Don't force yourself, take your time, please. We can do this another day if you want.”

He sniffs, walking around you to sit down on the dusty ground, head laying on the concrete wall of the chasm and legs dangling off the ledge. He places the Z-drive on his left as he pulls his leg closer to him so he could rest his arm.

You soon follow with the simple invitation from him as he gestures towards the space next to him with his head. Sitting down with the Z-drive in between you and Ekko, you lay your head on the wall, fingers playing with the sleeves of Ekko's jacket you still have on and legs dangling off the cliff edge.

The two of you listen to the silence, and watch as the shadows dance on the mouth of the chasm as sunlight tries to wiggle its way into the dark. You turn your head towards Ekko, cheek pressed on your shoulder as you listen to him breathe and stare at his chestnut eyes that you've grown awfully fond of.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask, and he turns to you slowly. He nods, lips pursing together with a subtle smile. “Stop me when you're ready, okay?” He urges you with another curt nod. “I used to sneak my brother out to a sweet shop back in Noxus. Everytime he gets a high mark at school I take him there. Which was almost every night because he was the smartest out of the two of us. I call him my younger brother but he acted more like the oldest sometimes more than I did.” He smiles at the thought. “We only got caught once by our father, I took the beating and my brother never forgave him for it.” You clear your throat, letting the memory wash over you. “We grew up, I left first and he…he didn't forgive me for leaving him behind.”

Twisting in your seat, you hug your knees, chin placed atop it. Ekko listens in, eyes sorrowful as he gazes at you. “I reconnected with him, it turns out that he's a bigshot researcher now. Got all the ladies.” You chuckle at your own joke. “I had to convince him to talk to me. After a while, he started speaking to me again. Then I had to practically pull him out of his lab to bring him to the same sweet shop, only to find that they closed the place years ago.” You turn to Ekko again, head still placed on your knees. “He laughed at me for making a fuss out of it, then started bawling his eyes out. We both cried in the middle of the fucking street.”

“In Noxus?” You nod, biting your lip to stop the tears. “And no one fought the two of you for that?”

“The Noxus you have in your head sounds fun.” You giggle, inhaling shakily. “No, we–we reconciled after that. He didn't hold a grudge against me anymore. I'm happy that he forgave me before…” sniffing, you look at the device between the two of you, watching your own reflection on the glass. “He didn't let the past hold him down. I don't know what happened to you back then, but you don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore.”

Ekko tries to reach for you, but the Z-drive between you causes him to retract his hand back to his side. He thinks he knows what you're trying to convey. You're right, he's an open book when he's facing you. “What happened to him?”

“I want to tell you, Ekko, but the less you know about them, the better.”

“What if they come for you?” Ekko clenches his jaw, brown eyes looking into the hidden fear behind your own.

You shake your head, eyes glassy as you stare off into the distance. “They won't.” Tapping the rune etched on your belt, you make it glow. The light flickers until it solidifies, illuminating around you and Ekko. “Mel gave me this when she hired me. Told me that it'll come in handy.”

“It did.”

“In more ways than one.”

Silence envelopes you and Ekko once again, it's a comfortable one as the warm light glows and creates shapes and shadows all over the walls. Now that there's light, you can see the colorful graffiti on the walls. Some are spray painted, and the fading ones are drawn by chalk and colored pencils. It's the same style that Sevika's arm has, doodles of cutesy things, pinks and blues dotted along the walls of the chasm and the metal floor, or what's left of whatever structure that used to stand here.

It's her place. You know it is.

“I know what happened to Heimerdinger. I was there.” He finally says, voice echoing around the chasm. You wait for him, brows furrowed together with worry. “He's gone, because of this.” Flicking the glass of the Z-drive, his brown eyes grow glossy.

“I'm sorry.”

Ekko closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again with determination. “Powder and I built it just a few days before it all went down.”

“Right here?” Powder, or Jinx, the same woman you've been trying to chase this whole time. Only for her to be a ghost of the past.

“Under the last drop.”

“But by that time,” you try to piece together the timeline based on all the interviews. “the last drop would've been already destroyed by Caitlyn's task force.”

“In a different last drop.” His eyes look into your own, trying to convey something that you're not privy to. He wishes that you already knew without him telling you so he doesn't have to recall it all.

“I'm confused, there's another–”

“in a different universe, with a different Jinx—Powder.”

Your eyes widen at what this could mean.

Ekko tells you everything, from start to finish. He tells you of his childhood with his friends and Benzo by his side. Then it all came crumbling down one day. He gives you all the details on how the firelights came to be, how he struggled for years before he became who he is right now. His tone is solemn, like he's telling a story that isn't his own.

With a trembling tone, Ekko recalls how he accidentally traveled to another place in another universe with Heimerdinger after Jayce showed him the titular hexcore. The place was shiny and perfect, it was everything he ever dreamed Zaun could be. What he has been working for his people this whole time. It was paradise.

You take the Z-drive and place it further away to move closer and hold his hand. Ekko surprisingly lets you, holding onto you as he continues to tell his story.

Then her name leaves his lips, the same blue haired girl you've been seeing every time you turn your head in the undercity. He said her name with trepidation, and yet, you can feel his emotions for her through the utterance. They made the device together, worked alongside the other just like he always dreamed of when he was just a boy. He missed her, unlike how the lanes missed her, but how a lover would. And not just her, another version of her too. You've deduced a long time ago that there was affection between them, but not like this, this… love was more than you ever thought they would have— had. That Ekko would have had for both versions of her.

He pauses, and you once again tell him that he can rest and take his time, but he continues with determination in his eyes. He needs someone else to know about it too, everyone who knew about the interdimensional travel is dead, he's all that's left. So when he couldn't hold onto the memory anymore, there would still be you to remember everything. With bated breath, and with every word he tells you, longing seeps out of him, a longing that can be felt through your bones. He wanted to stay, but he didn't— couldn't.

“Heimer just…” he swallows his grief, choking on all the words he hasn't said in years, all kept and locked in his mind. “He was just gone, turned into nothing. All it took was more than four seconds.” Your hand never left his own the whole time, not even when the sliver of sunlight above has faded away. “I was back in my own body, the Ekko in that world stayed with her.” His honeyed eyes look at the Z-drive sitting by his feet. “Then I was back here, talking her down from hurting herself. It took a few tries with it.” He gestures towards the machine, “but I did it, I showed her that there's still good left in her.”

“You did everything you could, Ekko. More than anyone could've done if they were in your place.” He nods, and grasps your hand in his own, squeezing it once.

“I know you have a question in that curious mind you have, spark.” He flicks his eyes over to you.

You chuckle softly, “you know me best.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand as you continue. You've asked a million questions to thousands of people before, mostly laden questions. But nothing made you nervous like this. You're afraid that he'd get mad at you, leave you and in turn ruin what you have with him. Then you realize, you don't want to lose him. Maybe it's been in your head for a long time now, lingering and waiting to be noticed.

“Why didn't you stay in that perfect world?”

“I—” he inhales, “I have people here. I couldn't just… leave them.” His brows furrow, like a blade has stabbed him right in his heart. “I was trapped under the weight of everything I've ever wanted. But I don't belong there. Never will be.”

“You're better than anyone then, anyone would have taken the opportunity and stayed. You dug yourself out of that and left to save your own world.” Moving closer, you gently hold his bicep, making him look at you. You see the hurt swirling in those eyes. You feel it as you stare into them. “If it weren't for you coming back, Piltover, Zaun and even the whole of Runeterra would've ceased to exist. I wouldn't be here talking to you now if you caved in. You're incredibly brave, Ekko. Your act of selflessness saved us all. I may not represent the whole world, but— thank you. You're the best of all of us, Ekko.”

The corner of his lips curl into a smile. Heart filling with the same warmth you give him. “But this can't get out, right?”

You blink, he read you like an open book. “Yes, I know history has to be told, but this information cannot fall into the wrong hands.” He grasps your hand, squeezing it once, understanding your predicament to give out information without sparing a single detail. But this, this is beyond that. “If they know that there's another world out there to conquer…we can't let this get out.” You place his hand right on your heart, pleading with him. “I'm sorry, your story is important, but that's why it can't get out.”

“I know, spark. At least now this won't die with me.” Your heart drops down to your stomach from the hurt in his voice.

“It won't die with you, stop talking like you're fucking dying, Ekko, because you're not.” You reassure, moving closer, knee to knee with him as you place his hand back down to his lap. “You have me worried.”

Chuckling, Ekko's eyes flick over to your lips for a second, somehow, he wants the Z-drive to work again so that you'd hold his hand like this over and over again. “What can you write about then?”

You smile, showing how honoured and proud you are of him. “How you defeated hextech up in the tower together with the others and help clear Jinx's name and even help restore Viktor back into existence. He might've caused it all, but his contributions before that can't be erased.” Thankfully, he seems to be listening. “And how you used a device you invented with the help from Heimerdinger. Finally close his case. But I can't write anything about the other place. They could use this, they could go there and ruin that perfect place you told me.”

“Who would be able to do that? I barely got out.”

“There are forces out there that are more than capable. I'm sorry, Ekko. Please, don't let people know about the other universe. Think about the people there.” Think about her.

He looks at the walls where her mark still stays despite the ravages of time. “Okay, you have to keep it too.”

“I know, I'll take it to my grave.”

“Now who's the one sounding ominous?” He raises a brow, then stands up and dusts off his pants. You smile up at him, watching him reach out a helping hand to you. “I heard Jericho is making roast tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?” He rolls his eyes at your playful jape. Taking his hand, he yanks you up. “As long as Jericho gives me your share this time.”

“I'm his favourite, spark, not you.” Ekko bends down to his knees, taking the Z-drive from the floor as he hops onto the board. “C’mon then.” He waits for you as you try to tamp down the warmth in your chest.

You stand behind him, hands instinctively placed on his waist. “Are you gonna show me where your secrets are buried?”

“If you don't stop I'll bury you with them.”

Your giggles ricochet around the walls as he takes you further below to hide the tech where it belongs together with what's left of Jinx's hideout.

—

You thought that the talk with Ekko would've brought the hatchet down between the two of you. Instead, it strengthened the bond you both already had. Ekko insists that what happened up in the hextower should be told, and you've been up all night with him inside his tree house trying to get everything right, to get every detail that happened that day. He doesn't balk at the nitty gritty side of what happened, he told you the story with truth and nothing but the truth.

The lights in his tree house were still brightly shining through his windows until the birds were chirping their morning song. And you once again found yourself waking up in his bed. Your eyes smiled at his scrunched up form on the armchair, the seat was moved closer on the bed, not sleeping on the same bed per se, but close enough to be affectionate. His cheek is squished against the armrest, face paint smudged from how he was running his hand over his face last night.

You still remembered how he spoke about everything with a soft voice, eyes downcast at his own hands as he wrote everything down for you even though you've told him that your wrist isn't hurting much anymore despite the plaster still on your hand. You sigh, still giddy at the memory from last night. And how he snuck in two cans of soup just for the two of you. He was avoiding your gaze when he explained that it was the only thing he was able to snatch from the kitchen while Jericho the chef was snoring away on the counter. He heated it up with his blowtorch and the two of you ate on the floor like a couple of students burning the midnight oil.

You move slightly to fix your posture, only to find that his stretched hand brushes along your own. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought of him holding your hand while he was falling asleep. Inching your hand closer, you gently wrap your index around his own. To your surprise, he closes his finger around yours. Glancing at his face, he's still in deep slumber, softly snoring away.

You want to stay there forever in his covers, and to sleep alongside him as he snores softly. But as you flick your eyes over to his pocket watch on the bedside table, the clock ticks close to midday. Gently unwrapping your finger around his warmth, you carefully flip the covers away from you. Your feet meet the cold hardwood floor, wood squeaking under your weight. Wincing, you take a look at Ekko, expecting him to wake up from the sound.

His sleeping face makes you smile fondly at him. “Like a baby.” You whisper into the room. Sneaking around, you gather your things, holding onto your boots and satchel around your shoulder. But before you leave, you quietly rip a page from your notebook to leave him a note.

Went to the doctor to get my cast off. Thank you for last night, make sure you eat something! Love, spark.

You tamp down a giggle by biting your lip as you scribble down a doodle of him sleeping and drooling all over the armchair. Satisfied, you place the note on his work table under a wrench. As you carefully make your way towards the door, you give him one last look. But you end up coming back to the bed, and flinging off the covers to gently lay it atop him instead of just his jacket keeping him warm. Patting it down silently, you smile and go back towards the door. All without making a squeak.

Victoriously, you leave the room with a soft smile.

Ekko opens his eyes once the doors click close, groggily looking at the empty bed that still bears your shape, and how the air still carries the lingering scent of your perfume. He notices the blanket around him, smiling and closing his eyes for another minute of sleep.

—

The way you abruptly opened the door to his treehouse was a stark contrast to how you closed it just this morning. “I knew I'd find you here!”

Ekko almost jumps in his skin, immediately hiding the project he was making under a sheet of metal. Your letter is tacked on the wall together with his important notes, he doesn't have enough time to hide that one. He looks over his shoulder, lips pursed into feigned annoyance.

“I told them to tell you that I was out on patrol.”

You shrug, beaming at him as you close the door with a well timed kick. “Your firelights don't like lying to me.”

“You bribed them, didn't you?” He narrows his eyes at you while you saunter confidently towards him.

“Nope, I just gave them the ol’ noxian glare.” You perch yourself on the table, hands bracing yourself.

“What does it look like?” He plays along, back leaning against the chair and yanking off his goggles to rest atop his head. He tilts his head as he stares at you with a raised brow. The warm light casts a shadow on him, which doesn't help your already clammy hands.

You lean close and make a face. “Like this.” Exaggerating your features, you make a ridiculous face, twitching eye and all.

Ekko laughs, shaking his head. He finally notices your hand free of the cast. “You got it off?”

“Mm-hmm!” You grin, leaning away as you show off your new and improved wrist as if you're showing off a diamond ring. “It's so much stronger now.” Opening and closing your hand, your heart almost stops when he takes your previously broken wrist in his hands gently, thumbs running along your skin like he's checking out new hardware. “That’s what the doctor told me.” Your voice wavers off as he kneads your palm.

“I highly doubt that.” He finds himself massaging your hand, so he gently lets you go as he clears his throat. “That's a myth.”

You inhale, steadying your quick heartbeat whilst you unconsciously run your finger over the warm skin he touched. “It's not, I broke my ribs once and now I can take a hundred punches to the chest.”

His brows knit together with concern. “Please don't tell me you tested it out.”

Raising your chin, you give him a smug smile. “I am a researcher, Ekko.” Chuckling, you nudge his shoulder gently. “I'm fucking with you.” He rolls his eyes, twisting in his seat to look at you better. Knee to knee, you try to make conversation. “What're you working on?”

“Just some parts,” you sense something's off. “What else did the doctor say?” He deflects and you wave your suspicions away.

“Just that it healed well. And he told me that you're due for a checkup. You didn't come back after you got your stitches out.” Poking his bicep, you tease him. “You're in trouble.”

Ekkk grabs your poking finger, and you clamp shut from the look in his eyes that spells either your demise or he's about to take a chunk out of your finger.

“I'm fine,” he says as he drops your hand to your own disappointment. “I don't need a doctor telling me I need more vitamin C.”

“You do need more vitamin C though.” Teasing, you try to take a peek at his work table, only for him to place both hands atop it to stop you from yanking the sheet metal away. “Fine, keep your secrets. But I'm not keeping mine.”

“Sevika and Vi are holding a party for you at the opening of the last drop.”

“Don't forget Caitlyn— hey! Who told you?”

“No one, I read it on your face.” Ekko puffs out his chest. Now he's the one smiling smugly. He'll never tell you that the firelights invited him first.

Scrunching up your face, you try to tamp down your grin. “You're no fun anymore.”

Beaming up at you, Ekko pokes your knee. “You haven't seen fun yet, spark.”

“Oh, so you're going to show me your dance moves then?”

He blinks, remembering the last time he danced. Remembering that last person he danced with. “I don't dance.”

You hop down from the table. “And here I thought I would get to dance with you before I leave Piltover.” Hoisting up your satchel, you turn to leave. “Anyway, please come to the party. I would love to see you there.”

Ekko's jaw tightens for a second before relaxing. In his bliss, he forgot that you have to go back home. To your real home. “Where are you going?” He follows you with his gaze, chair twisting around to look back at your retreating form.

“Lots of writing to do before I submit my first draft.” You sigh, already feeling the headache you'll have after hours and hours of work. “So I better get going— ah shit!” Eyes widening, you rummage through your bag and hand an envelope to Ekko. “Almost forgot, Babette's man gave this to me, which is weird because it's addressed to you.” Crossing the small distance, you give him the simple envelope. “Said something about apologising to me? I don't know what that meant when she was already cleared by the enforcers that she didn't have anything to do with what happened to us.”

Ekko takes the letter, brows furrowed together with worry. Knowing that the madam deals in secrets, he has a feeling of what's inside. “It's probably nothing, spark.”

“Do you think it's a coupon for the Vyx?” You swallow thickly, perishing the thought from your mind.

“If it is, I don't have use for it.” Ekko tosses the envelope haphazardly on the table, and can't hide the hopeful smile from appearing on your lips when he looks at you as he said those words. “Go and work, spark. Be careful, yeah?”

“I'll just be at my apartment, firefly. It's the safest place for me, apart from here.” You turn to leave, hand already on the doorknob when he calls your name softly. “Yeah?” Looking over your shoulder, he looks like he's about to stand up and make his way towards you— But is refraining from closing the distance.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he shakes his head. “Nothing, good luck.”

You nod, chest feeling heavy. “I'm going to need it, thank you. I'll see you in a few days, Ekko.”

As you shut the door, Ekko stares at the space you left. He listens in for your retreating footsteps before opening the envelope.

—

You're supposed to be writing today, but you can barely hold a pen after writing for three days straight. You went out of your apartment with an excuse of needing some fresh air, you don't intend to walk into Zaun with the sole purpose of seeing a certain white haired firelights leader. Well, maybe you are when your own feet move on instinct towards the firelights hideout.

As you cross the bridge of progress, your nose picks up something burning, like metal searing against melted iron. Heeding it no mind, thinking that it's just a smell from one of the factories in the undercity, you continue to walk through the busy bridge and into the city. A few people greet you as you walk by, their familiar faces politely smile at you. You wave back, smiling in return. Continuing to walk towards the lanes, the smell turns stronger, smoke wafting over your nose. Passing by the newly built last drop and Vander's statue, you decide to follow the smoke.

Your heart thuds in your chest, worry inching closer as you run towards a blaze nearby. An echoing commotion has you sprinting faster. Turning a corner, your eyes widen when you see an old building going up in flames. People rush by, trying to get their belongings incase the fire spreads to their buildings. Enforcers and civilians help by bringing in buckets of water and hosing the fire down. It's nowhere near the hideout, nor a place you know anyone lives in. You remember it being abandoned in the first place. But the way that the firelights gather around it in their ash covered hair and coughing up while they desperately try to get everyone out, your worries solidify when you don't see Ekko amongst the crowd.

Hands balling into fists, you try to unfurl it but it freezes in place, knuckles shaking, nails digging into your flesh. You bolt off towards the fire, heat kissing your cheeks and embers flying past you.

“Spark!” Sevika stops you, grabbing and stopping you before you get further in. “Stop!” She grasps onto you as you try to escape from her hold.

“Where—” your frantic eyes look at her. “What happened?”

“We got a tip that the last shimmer factory was here.” She exhales shakily, palm clammy on top of your shoulder. “It— shit hit the fan. We got most of them thanks to Ekko—”

“Where is he?” You almost scream. “Sevika, where is he now?” Taking her by the shoulder, your voice trembles, and her hold on you loosens. “Is he—”

“He's still inside—”

You sprint immediately, pushing Sevika off and running away before she could get a hold of you again. Familiar faces whizz past you, their calls falling on deaf ears as you ignore their cries. You inhale smoke and ash, heat blasting against your face. For a second, you're back home, standing on the ashes of your brother's laboratory with your palms still smoldering.

Enforcers help around the burning building, some tend to the wounded, a few help with crowd control. Steb finds you running, and he lifts his arm to try and stop you.

“Red, no!”

You dodge his hand, the pads of his fingers briefly brushing against your arm. Continuing on, no one can stop you as you jump over debris, and dodge concerned firelights and enforcers.

Before you brave the flames, Scar appears from within the fire, coughing and heaving out while Vi helps him carry out a platinum haired man in their arms with an owl mask still on his face.

Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his limp head lolling down to his chest. And the golden charm you gave him is covered in ashes as they drag him out of the fire.

“Ekko!” Quickly running towards him, you grasp at his face and he falls over you as Vi and Scar are trying to catch their breaths on the heated ground. You collapse on your knees, holding him and frantically slipping off his mask and then wiping away the ash on his face with your hand and sleeve. His eyes are closed, and breathing weakly. “Wake up for me, Ekko!” Shaking his shoulder, you roam your eyes for a medic. “Help!”

“We need some help here!” Vi yells, voice cracking, eyes wide as she stares at Ekko. Scar runs towards the nearest medic, trying to drag him towards you and Ekko.

“Hey.” You snap your head towards his weak voice.

“Holy shit!” Gasping, you give him a relieved smile. “What were you still doing in there?” You're already planning a way to fight back at the last chem baron who did this to him and the firelights.

“You're loud,” He wheezes, hand slowly reaching up to your face, thumb smearing the ash off of your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, hand limping and sliding off your face. “Stay with me, d–don’t do anything stupid.”

You cradle him in your arms, palm placed on his heart, “how'd you know I was already planning revenge, huh, firefly?” Your tone oozes affection.

“Because,” He heaves, “I know you, Powder.”

A tear flows down your cheek, clearing a path around the ash. The breath in your lungs is taken from your lips, “Medic!”

—

His dreams were a garbled mess of blue and red.

Ekko wakes up in the infirmary, chest panting, brown eyes frantically looking around. There's an oxygen mask on his face, helping him breathe through the panic. His breathing evens out when he sees you sleeping on the rickety chair next to him. Your head is on the mattress, laying beside his hip whilst you're clutching onto an ash covered rag as if it's your life line. Your face is tucked in your arms, but you don't seem to be sleeping from how tense your shoulders are.

The room smells of antiseptic and bleach that makes his nose itch. The humming lights and ceiling fans has him feeling right at home as the quiet snores of his fellow firelights fill the infirmary. He knows this place well from his numerous visits as the leader of the firelights and as a patient. Inhaling deeply at the clean oxygen, he weakly raises his hand up to yank it off and place it atop his chest.

Then, he simply places his palm on top of your head, and you immediately spring awake. Your eyes are red, heavy bags weighing you down. Shirt disheveled and crumpled, you look like you're the one who escaped death not him.

You try to speak but you don't find the words.

Ekko's hand slips from your head, falling down until you catch it mid fall. Placing his hand gently down to the bed, you give him a weak smile and take your hand back to his dismay.

“I'll call the doctor—” You try to get up, but his hand upon your wrist stops you. His grip is weak, but the determination is there.

Ekko calls your name, not spark, not red, your name, the last thing he heard in his dreams. “Can—” he coughs, and you immediately grab a glass of water from the bedside.

“Drink, it'll help.” Helping him sit up on the bed, your hand is propping him up by holding his back, while your other hand gently tilts the glass to his dry lips. “The doctor said you inhaled too much smoke, you should keep the mask on. Coupling that up with a few minor injuries from the fight—” you should've been there with him, knowing that he was there partly because of you. “he said that you'll be fine within a few days.”

He gulps down, and you help him sit against the headboard as he watches the melancholy look you have in your eyes. “What's wrong?” He asks you as if he's not the one abed.

“Nothing.” You place the glass back, and you unfurl your fists again only to curl it around itself once more. “Just— you got me— us worried for a second. I thought I would have to leave Piltover without a goodbye from you.”

“I’m fine, I've got great lungs.”

You chuckle weakly at his attempt at a joke. “Okay, I'll let you rest.” Patting his hand with the intention of saying goodbye, he unexpectedly intertwines his fingers around your own. “Ekko.” You sigh, not having the heart to yank yourself off.

“Were you here the entire time?”

“Yeah, you told me to. Or—” you swallow down thickly. “You told…Powder.” Ekko furrows his brows, the hurt is evident in your tone. “I did stay, even if that wasn't intended for me.”

“I called you Powder?” He's in disbelief at himself.

“Do I look like her, Ekko?” You blurt out, fingers trembling around his. He shakes his head, still holding onto your hand. “I thought—” you scoff at yourself. “Nevermind, just get some rest, okay?” You turn to leave, reluctantly pulling your hand away from him.

He calls your name, and the next thing he sees is the door closing shut behind you.

You inhale the fresh air as night slowly turns to dusk. You curl your fists, knuckles shaking as you still feel the heat against your skin. It would've hurt less if you don't feel anything for him, a knife to the chest would've hurt far less than this. Tears prick at your eyes, but you quickly wipe it away.

Crickets chirp from the bushes around the hideout as fireflies roam just above the gingko tree. Its leaves sways in the summer breeze, wind carrying your tethered sorrow within your stubborn heart.

“Do you even want to go home?” His voice suddenly appearing from behind has you immediately twisting around towards him.

Ekko clutches at his side, panting from the short walk while his lungs still haven't recovered just yet. His brown eyes shine under the moonlight as fireflies flutter close by.

“Shit, Ekko, you should be in bed!” You quickly close the distance, holding onto him before he collapses. He wheezes and lets out a dry cough whilst you whisk him away towards the nearby bench. “What are you doing out here?” You gently place him down, kneeling before him as his hand refuses to let you go. “I need to get you back inside.”

“No,” he coughs against the crook of his arm. “Stay.”

“Why are you being stubborn?” Your frustration is evident in your tone as you gently grasp his face. “Ekko, let's go back inside—”

“You haven't…” he exhales shakily, croaking out the words. “You haven't answered my question.”

“You interviewing me now?”

He meets with your eyes, his weak grip around your wrist. “Do you even want to go home?”

“I—” You purse your lips together, “Why did you want to go home when you were there with her? You've got no one here.”

He clenches his eyes shut at your deflection. Then he opens them again, looking at you fondly. *Always a dance with you. The words slither back into his mind. “I've got my people.”

“Yes, but they aren't her.” You push down everything you're feeling. Hurt, frustration, anger, and love. Standing up, for a second Ekko thinks you're about to run away, but that's not you, you don't run. As you sit beside him, he watches the moonlight frame the side of your face. “I—I remind you of her. Don't I? Is that why you've taken a liking to me?”

Ekko tries to reach for your hand but retracts it back to his lap. “Sometimes you do.” You close your eyes shut, unfurling and closing your fists. “I know you're not her.” His words are laced with grief.

“I'll never be her, Ekko.” You stare at his hand, wanting nothing else but to hold him. “I’m sorry I can't be her.”

“I know,” he finally faces you fully and holds your hand and slowly and gently unfurls each of your fists. “You're you, and that's enough for me.” More than enough. “Never be sorry for being you.” He says your name softly and full of love that you've forgotten how to breathe. “Do you want to stay?” With me? He utters the words with hope as his thumbs knead over the scars along the back of your hand.

“I–I’m not sure, all I know is that It's…easier here.” You look at him with melancholy. “Somehow, you made it easy, Ekko.”

He says your name as he fights his own instinct from placing his head on your shoulder. Your palm shakes as you hold him against you, cradling his head with such care that only a lover could provide. You've never seen him so vulnerable, not the leader, or the savior, just a man who has grown too tired to bare his teeth to the world. For once in almost four years, he lets his walls crumble further down, to bridge whatever gap is left between you, to be held and cared for.

“You make it impossible to hate you, Ekko.” You whisper to him, all truth and full of endearment for the man next to you.

Ekko's cheek is pressed against your skin, eyes closing as he listens to your faint breathing. His arm snakes around your back, fingers holding onto your waist as he lets your perfume wash over him until the scent of ash and smoke leaves his side only to be replaced by your presence.

“I—I understand how it feels. The grief…the longing.” You whisper so quietly that if he wasn't so close to you he wouldn't have heard you above the crickets. “Sometimes you assume you've moved on because you haven't thought of them for a while, but then you see a flower growing in the cracks of pavement—” you sniff, laying against him carefully. He holds onto you close. Just two people letting their grief lap at them like the tides. “The petals are in the same hue that reminds you of their eyes. Or a word said by someone else that they used to say all the damn time.” You chuckle bittersweetly. “Even splattered paint on a wall that's the same shade as their hair. It reminds you of them, it all reminds you who you lost.”

Reaching for his other hand, you enclose your fingers around him, letting his warmth soothe you. For the first time in a long time, you don't feel afraid whenever heat holds you close. You find it— him comforting you simply by being near his warmth. It no longer burns you or reminds you of the past, it lights up the path away from your shuttered past.

“I may not live a hundred lifetimes, but I've loved and lost too, Ekko.” You watch as his eyes gravitate towards your intertwined hands. “And I know we can't keep away from their song that's stuck in our heads but we can lower the music, not tune it out completely— let it keep us company like they have before. All I ask is for you to not quiet down my own song when I leave.”

With a simple broken look from him, you know that he doesn't want you to leave. And all you want from him is to ask you to stay, and you would. He hasn't.

“Out of all the universe out there, I just thought that you could love me in this one.” You smile at him, heart weighing heavy.

“Maybe I could…I could love you in this one.” Maybe he already has.

You chuckle, skin warm as you gently take his face and press a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek. You're at a loss for words. “I lied, I can't read you like an open book.”

“Then,” he wheezes but quickly composes himself. Sitting up, he holds onto your cheek, letting you lean against him. “Let me tell you. I want to wake up to your face every morning, for you to stitch me up together again. To tell me I'm not all that,” you chuckle, cheeks wet with tears that he wipes off with a careful thumb. “And to hold me just like this every night.” He swallows down his fear of rejection. “You told me that I don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore, but I'm scared of losing you. You're not impossible to love, spark.” His hand trembles, chest aching for what he's about to say. “I can't ask you to stay. You've got places to be, a promise to keep. I can't be the one who'll hold you back.”

Nodding, you lean close, embracing him as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Then see me off,” he presses a featherlight kiss on your temple, an immediate yes. “Come to the last drop, dance with me like it won't be the last time.” Please ask me to stay.

Ekko holds you as if you're about to be taken away from him as he whispers a ‘yes’ against your warm skin. Incredibly warm. You feel like the sun against his flesh. But he doesn't let go or flinch away from the heat, he holds you tight, he'll be the one to fan away the flames, even if it's only for a brief time.

As your tears stain his shirt, your conflicted mind feels like there's a storm raging inside, pins and needles ebbing through your body, palms hot and sweating. But at the same time, you want to live, to have your cake and eat it too— and to love and be loved by simply being you. You'll find a way to stay, all without breaking your promise. It could be impossible, but you were raised to defy the impossible.

—

A week has passed, and Ekko kept his silent promise to you. He arrived at the last drop later than he intended, the party was already in full swing as he entered through the familiar establishment. The whole place was renovated, walls no longer seared with misshapen strange marks. Floors that aren't sticky are replaced with non-slip tiles that are perfect for the days when it gets too rowdy and the drinks start sloshing around. He still remembers the tables back then, how he used to spend some time there during the mornings when the place was still closed. As he takes a whiff of the air, it doesn't smell like the awfully familiar scent of amber and gunpowder anymore. It's like every bit of it was replaced but the foundation is still there, the history and the memories he had there still lingers in the walls.

As he moves through the crowd, colorful spotlights flicker in and out whilst music blasts from the speakers. Everyone who you've made friends with was there, he never realized that you even talked to this many people throughout your time in the two cities. He casually looks for you amidst the dancing bodies, but you're not there. Ekko sidles up to the bar, perching himself over to a stool, head on a swivel for your familiar crimson colors.

“You looking for someone in particular?” Sevika appears from behind the bar, polishing a glass and sliding it towards him expertly.

“What are you doing here?” His brows knit together in confusion.

“We answering questions with another question now?”

Ekko turns towards the bar, arms on the table as he rolls his eyes at the council member. “Spark, she said she'll meet me here.”

Sevika's lips curl into a knowing smile. “I volunteered to bartend, it's either this or stay through the ceremony. I swear every anniversary it keeps getting longer and longer.” She sniffs, shaking her head. “I like to remember the dead like this rather than cry about it with the others.”

Ekko's eyes widened for a second. “I forgot that it's today.”

“Mm-hmm, time flies by, huh? Four fucking years now.” She sighs, tapping on his empty glass. “What's your poison?”

“Whatever's faster for you to pour.”

Sevika scoffs, metal arm clinking against the clear bottle as she pours him a generous amount. “Gin then.”

His nose scrunches at the smell. “Sure.” Taking the drink, he twists back in his seat to face the dancefloor, hoping to finally get a glimpse of you.

Sevika leans over the bar with her own amber drink in hand. “You clean up well, Ekko.”

Ekko takes a sip of the alcohol, feeling the warmth line his esophagus. “You're not my type, Sevika.”

She lets out a guffaw, hand slamming down on his shoulder, making him almost spit out his drink. “Oh I know exactly what your type is. Someone who likes to play with fire, has an explosive personality, fucking smart.” As she talks, he sees you enter the tavern, shrugging off your red jacket and revealing an emerald dress underneath, shedding off all the red you used to wear. Sevika seems to notice it too as she follows Ekko's line of sight. From the way he quietly gasps as if air has been taken from his lungs, her suspicions from the beginning were right all along. “Can fight like hell, a good time to be around with, makes you smile. And most of all.” You wave towards Steb and saunter towards the bar to the beat of the music. “She's right in front of you, kid.”

“I have eyes, Sevika.”

“Oh I know, just wanted to remind you just in case you forgot or else I'll swoop in and replace you—” you make it to them with a bashful smile as your eyes sparkle under the lights. “Hey, spark!” Sevika clasps Ekko's shoulder again, hand heavy on top of him. “Fancy a drink?”

“Hi, councilor Sevika.” You say in a sing-song tone. “And no thank you.” She shrugs in reply, watching the interaction. Turning your attention to Ekko, your smile widens. “Hi, firefly, you look handsome as ever.”

Your eyes roam all over his outfit. From the turtle neck tank top that cinces his waist perfectly, to the dark green button up that's only buttoned at the last three silver buttons that makes you and Ekko look like you planned the whole outfit together. He has you weak in the knees. His lean arms are on display, sleeves rolled up neatly up to his elbows. You're glued on how his bicep catches the spotlight just right. As you obviously ogle him, your eyes bring you towards the warm yellow hue of his straight cut pants that's all held up by a simple silver belt. He kept his regular boots on, always on the go and ready to strike into action. But this time, his shoelaces are all tied together and not hanging loose. Ekko rolls his eyes, sighing deeply and bashfully as he rubs the back of his neck from how your eyes look him up and down like you're about to grade him on his look.

You smile, tamping down a giggle at the charm you gave him that's still on his hair. The light catches something on his chest, where the breast pocket is. And when you glance at it, you see a single red wildflower pinned to the fabric. A simple way of showing his affection but it makes your heart skip a beat nonetheless.

Sevika scoffs against the rim of her glass. Rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to push Ekko towards you to finally get some peace from the obvious pining.

“And you too— I mean, you look amazing— beautiful. Really really beautiful.” Fumbling, Ekko wants the ground to crack open and swallow him up. It's just you, and you help remind him of that fact with your smile and your hand reaching for him.

“Care to dance?”

Sevika whispers in his ear. “If you don't dance with her, I will.”

“Augh, this drink suddenly tastes like sewer water.” Ekko makes a face and you giggle at the two of them.

Sevika plucks the glass from his hand, “you'd know.” Pushing him off the stool, he almost stumbles towards you but you catch him with your hand on his elbows. But he accidentally steps on your foot from how he tried to balance himself without falling on top of you. “Shit, sorry.” He immediately takes his foot off of yours.

You wince, smile staying on your lips despite the mishap. “We haven't even started yet and you're already trying to break my toes.” Pulling him towards the dance floor, he lets you guide him with a lopsided smile on his lips. “Show me what you've got, firefly.”

“I've got nothing,” he awkwardly sways to the music as you start to dance to the dynamic and rich music. “You picked the wrong partner.”

Grabbing his hand, you lace your fingers with his whilst you help him move to the beat. “I didn't choose wrong,” you move closer, stepping in and out as you beam at him. “In fact, I chose right. I can't dance either!” Chuckling, you let him go as you twirl around the dance floor. “When other kids had dancing or piano lessons, I had shooting lessons!”

Ekko laughs at your plucky dancing. He takes your hand and holds it up to help you twirl around. As you move, the memory of Powder dancing in your place flickers in his eyes, blues and pinks flying across his vision. Then the kaleidoscope of lights shine on you once again and he's facing your smiling face and not her anymore.

Your laughter echoes in his mind, then it's replaced with hers until your hand is on his chest, and he's face to face with his spark again.

Tilting your head at him, your eyes narrow with concern. “Something wrong? You went somewhere else there for a second.”

Ekko brings his hands over to your own, holding you against him as he sways the two of you to the music. “Nothing wrong,” he smiles, tears pricking his eyes. You feel like sunshine on his skin, a reprieve from the cold. “I'm right where I'm meant to be.”

“Good!” You happily exclaim above the music as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than ever while he laughs and holds onto your waist. “Because I'm about to show you a noxian dance that's meant to strike fear into the hearts of men.”

“We're just swaying, spark.” He chuckles, chest warm as he keeps a hold on you lest you knock someone over on the dancefloor.

Your loud guffaw catches the attention of Vi and Caitlyn in their own little corner in the tavern. They give you a wave, and you greet them with a smile. All the while, Ekko's eyes never leave your face as he stares lovingly at you.

—

“Hey.” Ekko's voice appears from behind, and you smile at him from your place on the small balcony atop the last drop. “Thought I lost you to Sevika.”

You look over your shoulder as the lights of Piltover and Zaun provide a backdrop of you. The night is filled with glorious warm lights, a tradition to honour the people who were lost four years ago.

“Or Steb.”

He groans, making you laugh. “The fish guy, really?”

“The question is, why not?” You joke as he makes his way over to you.

Ekko has a sense of déjà vu. But this time, the world doesn't feel like it's on his shoulders. And yet, just like last time, he's on borrowed time.

“I got your jacket, figured you'd get cold up here.” He unfolds the fabric and holds it up to you.

Standing up, you smile through it as he helps you put it on. He even helps with fixing the collar. As he runs his warm hands over your shoulders, you can't help but feel like this is goodbye. It is, but you can't let it end like this, not when you've found your place.

You put your hand in your pocket, and find something metallic and cold inside. Your brows knit together as you lift it up. “What?”

“It's for you, to remind you of the lanes.”

Raising the silver chain, you see the familiar green sea glass surrounded by a simple frame that's engraved with a tiny firefly.

“It's beautiful.” You gasp at the sight of the light reflecting on the glass. Flicking your eyes at him, you find that he's already looking at you with affection. “Help me put it on?”

With a nod and a smile, he picks up the necklace and wraps it around your wrist. Locking the clasp, his thumb brushes along the scar left by the previous broken wrist.

“I love it, thank you, Ekko.”

He hums, brows slightly together, lips slightly parted as he brings your hand over to his heart. The two of you stare at each other for a while with a hundred words unsaid between you.

“Ekko,” you whisper his name as a breeze passes by. “I talked to Mel,” his eyes shine, hands still on your wrist. Shadows dance on his face as he waits for the news. “She approved the first draft, and would like for me to continue my research.”

“T–That’s good then.” His voice trembles with a silent protest.

“She also asked me to travel with her.” You play with a loose thread on his sleeve. Ekko's breath hitches in his throat. “I accepted the offer. But on one condition.” He calls your name, hands clammy atop your skin. “I get to stay here when she doesn't need me. And once I'm done with field research and interviews I get to write it all here. Not in some ship and not in Noxus.” You ramble, inhaling and exhaling as you wait for his reply. He stays quiet, staring at the moon behind you. “I–I want to stay, Ekko. I've got no one back home. With your permission I'll make this place my home too. And with Mel's help I can publish everything from here. A–And I can travel from time to time for research just like before and— for the love of everything that's good, please say something.” You give him a gentle nudge, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

“You’re staying?” He asks, neck craning to look at you.

“Yes— mostly. But yes, I get to stay.” Grinning, you bite your lip, and your smile falters when he lets his hands drop to his sides. “I thought—”

“Can we start over?”

“What? Do you want me to explain it to you again?” You nervously laugh.

Ekko shakes his head, chestnut eyes staring into your sad ones. “I want to be better this time. Just like you said, we got off on the wrong foot.”

“If we didn't we wouldn't be here right now. Your stubborn ass got us here.” You reassure him, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on his knuckles.

“We take it slow, I won't be an asshole this time. Just– please stay. I want you to stay.”

You smile, nodding along, understanding that starting a relationship after everything he lost would be difficult for him. “Okay, we'll take it as slow as you want it to be. And I'm not trying to replace her, I just—” It's hard to find the right words for how you feel about him because love isn't enough, it transcends above it. How ironic that a writer cannot find the correct word. It seems love does that to a person. You forget the simplest thing to the most complicated emotion. And yet, he still hasn't let you go. So you decide to show it to him instead.

You want to be good for him.

You may not have been the first to his heart, but you'll be the one permanently etched in him. Hopefully forever if you let him.

Twisting his hand gently, you shake his hand in greeting, taking his request seriously. Telling him your name, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I'm from Noxus, and I'm here for research. I'm a historian you see, a really good one I've heard.” Winking, you grin as your eyes get foggy while tears gather in them. “If you're willing, can we be friends?”

Ekko takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes, he forgoes on his previous words. Pulling you by the hand abruptly, yanking you towards him until you collide into his chest. He takes your breath away as he presses his lips upon your own.

You gasp, eyes widened for a second before you reciprocate the kiss. Eyes closed, you hold him in your arms as your fingers run up the scruff of his hair and weave through the strands, pushing him impossibly closer against you. He tastes like mint, the warmth from the alcohol still lingering on his lips, ebbing to yours.

His nose bumps into your own, teeth clicking with his, but you two don't seem to mind as your lips kiss in tandem. Finding a rhythm, you smile as he pecks your lips lovingly. All the push and pulling has culminated into the kiss, needy and wanting to feel every inch of each other’s lips.

Ekko hums, the vibrations felt through the kiss and down to your chest. You feel like pliant clay in his hands as his palm is splayed over the small of your back, pads of his fingers pushing you closer until there's not a sliver of space between you. His thumb brushes along your cheek, feeling a tear slide down to his finger.

Ekko reluctantly pulls away for air, chasing oxygen at the sight of your kiss bitten lips.

“What happened to starting over?” You ask, half giggling, half in shock.

“I couldn't wait that long, sorry. I should've asked—”

You pull him back towards you, his knees touching your own, and his hands gripping onto your hips. “Thank you for not making me wait.” This time, you cup his face and lean in.

He kisses you softly, like it's the first time.

—

Your head rests upon Ekko's clavicle, hands tucked under the warm blanket as you sit on his lap whilst he makes himself comfortable on the same armchair you've grown fond of. Instead of reading with him, you watch his face as he audibly reads the final draft of your book, lips mouthing the words as he utters it. He glances at you from time to time, reacting to the words you poured blood and sweat into. It's not published yet since it's still pending approval from the council and Mel. But you'd rather have them take their sweet time since it means that you get to spend more time in the undercity with him until it's time to go out into the world once again.

He's getting an exclusive look at the book, its cover is stark white with golden trim that represents Piltover. And its brilliant lettering is in forest green, the same color your name is printed in. It represents Zaun, but for you and Ekko, it's a little secret for the two of you to share. It simply shows the love and care for the man before you.

“You said you'd read it with me.” He whispers, temple nudging your own as he reads with his eyes.

“I am.”

“No, you're just staring at me like I owe you money.” Ekko side glances at you, his fingers resting on your stomach pinches you playfully.

“Technically you do since you haven't paid me for the bet you lost.” Smirking, you poke his belly, finding nothing but lean muscle underneath.

He shoots you a look as you slowly lean up to kiss his jaw. “You promised, spark.” He says as if he's chastising a rowdy cat that's about to push a glass off the table. “We have to finish reading this or you'll ask me to read it all over again.”

You suck in your teeth, pouting at him and stopping from making your moves on him. He seems a bit disappointed that you actually conceded so easily. He was hoping for a bit of resistance at least.

“Well, how would I know if you like it?”

“I already love it.” Ekko places the bookmark you made for him in between the pages and closes the thick book. He turns to you fully, placing the book down on your lap and twisting to the side to hold you close. “The others will love it too, I'm sure.”

“I don't care what they think.” You place your palms on his chest, right above his heart as you gaze at him softly. “I only care what you think.”

He sighs longingly, ogling your face as if he currently doesn't have you on his lap and staring at him with so much love. “That would work if I'm the only person who's gonna read it.”

“Don't remind me that the whole of Runeterra will get to read my mess!”

Thumping your head on the crook of his neck, you groan like a petulant child not getting what they wanted for her birthday. He chuckles, hand petting your head as he presses a weighted kiss on your hairline.

“It's not a mess.” Whispering, Ekko reassures you. “I love it.” He shakes you lovingly but you don't budge.

He thinks that the looming date where you have to leave has finally gotten to you. Coupled that with the anxiety of your first solo work getting published— you haven't left his side in months. Ekko doesn't mind though, he got a bigger bed for the tree house just for the occasion. You didn't miss a beat at asking to stay with him for the time being the second you saw the new drawers and writing desk in a corner of the room.

“There's one thing though.” Ekko pauses, waiting for your reaction. Sure enough, you lift your head up, eyes narrowed to peek at him. “Just one criticism.”

You fully raise your head up, brows slightly furrowed together. “Okay.”

He acts out a wince. “Nah, it's nothing.”

Letting out an offended gasp, you take him by the collar, staring into his eyes, acting menacing. All he could do was give you a lopsided smile full of mischief.

“Ekko.”

“It's nothing.”

“Tell me!” You shake him until his laughter echoes throughout the tree house.

Ekko grasps at your face, puckering your lips and squishing your cheeks together. “Alright. Ask nicely.”

“No.” He raises a brow at your stubbornness. You're going to miss this once you leave. And you'll be looking forward to times like these when you get back home. “Fine, please.”

Ekko smiles victoriously. “The boy who shattered time.”

“What about it? It's the name I gave you in the book, you said you didn't like boy savior too much.” You shrug as he lets your cheeks go, arm wrapping over your hips as he listens in with a grin. “Besides, no one will truly know what it meant, and people will just think that you have that title because of the Z-drive.”

“Love, you're rambling.” He says with the utmost love in his tone.

“W–Well, I'm explaining myself.” The term of endearment that he has grown fond of using on you makes you stutter.

“I like it.” He chuckles, tracing your side with his knuckle. “It's better than boy savior, but couldn't you have made it the man who shattered time instead?”

“Hm no, it doesn't have the same ring to it. Don't worry though, you're my man.” Cuddling close to him, you take your sweet time at nuzzling his chest.

“You're a sap.” He says, hiding the sudden bout of flusteredness. Despite his words, he embraces you as he rests his chin atop your head.

“I love you too, Ekko.”

With a chuckle, he says the same three words to you, whispering your name gently against your skin. You can't help but cuddle closer, filling him with warmth as you smile atop his chest.

His heart feels full at the moment. He wants to stay like this forever, to hold you in his arms while you whisper kind and loving words to him. You want it too, but alas, there will be times when the two of you will be miles apart. But that makes the reunion much sweeter.

“I have something for you.”

Staring up at him, you look at him with curious eyes. “A present? For me?” You exclaim excitedly as he laughs and taps your thigh for you to lean away so he could grab it from under the armchair. “You hid it under my nose. Smart.”

Ekko hands you the present that's neatly tied together with a green ribbon. You take it carefully in your hands, unwrapping it as you clamp down your squeals with your teeth biting into your lower lip.

Your eyes scan the rectangle shaped device that has square buttons and a clear piece of plastic on the top. He encourages you to press the left most button by simply staring between you and the said button. As you press it, the plastic covering opens up and reveals another black rectangle with two circles on each side. You eye the curious thing.

“What is it?” You ask after wracking your brain for what it could be, giving up as you stare at it with a perplexed look.

“It's a recording device,” he points at the black rectangle that popped right out of it. “And that's a tape you can use to record sounds with.” You stare at him with wide eyes. “You're not the only one who has contacts from other countries. I got the blueprints for this one from Demacia.”

“You made this for me?” You feel like you're about to cry.

He senses it too, so he holds you closer, making you scooch as close as humanly possible to him. “Yeah, and a shit ton of tapes for you so you don't run out.” He sees your eyes water, and without missing a beat, he embraces you in his arms, pulling you towards his chest once again. “So you can come home to us faster.”

You lean back, hand pressing gently on the back of his neck as you stare longingly at his lips. He lets you lead as his soft lips brush along yours.

“You'll wait for me?” You whisper against his waiting lips.

“As long as it takes.”

A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked it!!

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[princessofghosts-posts]

The way Nico is always relevant to the plot,no matter what,is something else to me.

In PJO he got introduced in the third book so kinda late since the serie is only about 5 books,and he didn't had much presence because we only had a couple of scene with him. And only during BotL his character is 100% present (even tho he and the others have a total different journey in the Labyrinth) but even with this little time,he was extremely relevant for the end. Without him and his help things could have gone horrible in Manhattan at the end.

HoO keeps this up. Nico presence is only felt in 3 of the 5 books (with a couple of scene in SoN),with one of those being MoA where he pratically show up only in the end. And even with that Nico is still 100% relevant.

I haven't be able to read all of ToA yet (dam my final exam-) but I think this is the only time where he isn't really relevant,which is fair because the story is about Apollo and his path,and the demigods are only there for support.

Then we have his own books where he is the protagonist of,so the plot is about him. And the other serie of the main timeline is the one with Percy,Annabeth and Grover trying to get the letters to get into Rew Rome University,but I see that more of a spin-off. They just want to have their happy ending after everything that happened and want to live a "normal" life in a good place. This also isn't about him so he isn't here.

But like,out of 5 series of the main timeline,Nico is relevant in 3 of them,we are talking about more than 10 books (Idk if in ToA he will have some kinda of role at the end,I will find out),and that is fucking amazing. Most side characters after a while aren't that much relevant and are put aside in favor of new characters. Nico didn't had this treatment. He isn't really a side character for se because I always saw him part of the main ones,but he just does his own things and appears when you least expect it. So he is in his own category. But for Riordan the difference between main and side characters doesn't matter since he killed off people that were part of those categories regardless.

Riordan could have choose to put Nico to the side after the end of PJO,he served his propose and got closure after all,but he still made him extremely relevant to the plot again–from the start. And I also really like how he did that because Nico had more of a guide role in HoO : in SoN he decided to go to the source of their problem and fix it alone; in MoA he was referred as the "key for the doors" and it got said multiple times how important he was for their quest; I loved how in HoH he took the role to call the shot about the place where they were going,because it highlighted his intelligence and how much capable he was; in BoO he had his own important side quest to do with the statue,hadn't he decided to help them everything would have be destroyed (like when he helped them during the first war).

And even in PJO he had a similar approach,starting with him in BotL when he helped Percy,to him pre-TLO telling Percy his plan,to him in TLO helping them even with his and Percy fallout because of Hades,and all of this while providing important informations all the times he appeared. He always had a sort of leading role but not like Percy,Thalia or Jason: Nico is more like an expert and intelligent teacher that help you figure things out and give you informations.

And I love this of him. I loved how in HoH Nico was basically mapping their path with his acknowledge,taking a bit of Annabeth's position while she and Percy were fighting in Tartarus. He isn't only a powerhouse and a skilled fighter,his intelligence is something else too. The difference of experience between the crew (minus Percy and Annabeth) and Nico was felt,and I loved that. I loved how he was like a guide for the crew during their travel to the temple,how he helped them even when he was in an horrible physical condition and his mental state was...yeah (and I hated how they treated him in exchange-).

I hate a lot of things that Riordan did with Nico's character,his relationships and his powers especially,but one of the few things he did right was making Nico having this type of supportive subtle leadership,acting like a guide/teacher for the crew and sometimes even Percy.

Idk why but it suite him a lot and while it give time and space for the other characters to shine,it also make him relevant in everything that happens,without the situation being always about him and without making him part of most of the important things that happens in the books (Riordan please take notes for Percy-).

[needtobehisprettyboy]

Jayce's end speech to Viktor is not profound—not to me at least

I know people have already talked about this but I wanted to rant about it too cause it's been bothering me for a few days and it's one of the reasons why I don't interact with the monogamous JayVik side of the fandom much besides reblogging some things I find cute and liking posts. The shippers are ok, but the source material that they often reference really annoys me -.-

I don't blame JayVik shippers or anyone else who talks about the scene for finding it really romantic and/or deep. In another show, the scene likely would be 100% and the writers themselves (that Amanda and Linke who shouldn't be trusted) talk about it like it's soooo magical and wonderful and awe-inspiring. Depending on how you interpret the scene, it definitely can be.

Unfortunately, the scene just rubs me the wrong way. Disabled people on reddit and no doubt on Tumblr have addressed their dislikes of how the scene went. In general though, it just didn't touch on the true issues at hand.

While I'm not disabled, I have had the 'just love yourself' bit of advice from multiple people and?? Ok?? How does that help me in a world that hates people like me?? I learned to love my body, but various people treat me differently because of it. I learned to love my skin color, but I won't ever be treated like my white counterparts. I learned to accept my transgender identity, but I will still be considered a degenerate freak regardless.

Whether you love yourself or not isn't the issue. It's others loving you or not that is. It's law enforcement looking down on you. It's politicians not properly acknowledging your struggles (if they even acknowledge them at all) that's the problem. It helps to love yourself, but your love and acceptance of who you are isn't the magical fix all.

‼️CW: ‼️⚠️‼️ discussion dealing with death / a close death encounter ‼️⚠️‼️

‼️SKIP IF YOU WANT‼️

Not to mention, Viktor had every right to be upset with his deteriorating health. What I just said applies to this too—it doesn't matter if you love yourself or not you'll still have issues that won't go away. It's a horrible fact to live with (having physical issues that can't be solved with self love) which is especially true for people who think they're just wasting away.

I actually had a close encounter with slow death. It is sincerely horrifying feeling yourself get weaker and wonder whether something serious would happen. I can't imagine knowing I'm going to die and not have a way to get better. My brush with death was entirely preventable and I got better (by not letting myself breath in carbon monoxide omfg), but Viktor couldn't get better. He was heading towards his death bed. It just messes me up having people brush over that. I mean come on!! That man was going through some serious shit!!

I still feel fear over what happened to me even though I knew how to prevent it!!! What he went through was not addressed properly at all. It was NOT "imperfections" he was about to fucking die and that kind of experience makes you feel a cold dreaded desperation. IT ISN'T SOMETHING TO DISMISS NOR THAT CAN BE FIXED WITH SELF LOVE!!! There is no beauty in helplessness. It would be one thing to accept death and know that you can't always change your fate, but that wasn't what was talked about.

AAAA I HATE YOU TWO BASTARDS (the writers not JayVik)

‼️end of CW‼️

Arcane is a show that doesn't have in-world homophobia or racism (thank fuck please continue that), but it still has classism among other types of oppressions. I don't quite know if it has ableism—if you think it does let me know cause I'm always open to new info and different perspectives.

Viktor's main problem was his terminal illness which was caused by outside sources and wanting to make a real impact on the world. Jayce himself said Viktor suffered from pollution from the undercity. No doubt because of the different availability of treatments in the undercity and Piltover's government not giving a shit to help those they're responsible for, he wasn't able to get it caught in time which led to his terminal illness developing/worsening before his work was done.

And Viktor told Heimerdinger about wanting to be remembered!! He got a decent way up the social ladder for someone coming from the undercity who didn't have a patron or a house to his name, but he would've gone much further if he was from Piltover. It wasn't that Viktor thought his disability was a "weakness", it was that his illness was killing him and he KNEW other people viewed him as less than for things he couldn't control. I mean Jayce might have looked down on him too or been wary of Viktor for being from the undercity had he been told up front. Viktor's illness wasn't a weakness, it was something that stopped Viktor's dream path with other factors such as his place of birth being obstacles he managed to overcome—somewhat.

I don't know that it was necessarily because he was disabled that people looked down on him. Maybe part of it was (I SINCERELY don't know whether Arcane would have in-world ableism regarding Viktor's disabilities), but part of it was DEFINITELY because of where Viktor came from. Also, his main objective in leaving Jayce, and even before he left, was to help people. It wasn't to "fix" imperfections. That came after.

While Jayce was off playing councilor, Viktor was working on Hextech and wanted to show it off as soon as they showed some good progress. He didn't have time to wait around because of his TERMINAL illness, so he wanted change now and tried to change himself to let him live longer, not simply because he thought he was "imperfect".

For goodness sake people are allowed to want to change their situation for the sake of survival!!

Arcane fumbled the ball by making Viktor's objections change and try to act as if those were his main objectives all along when it was shown ON SCREEN that the Hexcore was corrupting/influencing him. His dreams were pure, nice and they ended up becoming corrupted because he descended into Godhood not understanding what his "help" was doing to people and having his humanity stripped away. Viktor wanted other people's suffering to end, but that wasn't the problem. Wanting people to get proper help for their issues wasn't wrong—it was the WAY he went about it that was wrong.

That's a good plotline right there yet it was ignored/misconstrued.

Jayce's speech of imperfections just didn't make sense.

Not with what we know of the previous context!!

Viktor's illness wasn't something to be ignored and things wouldn't have changed if Viktor "loved" himself. It had nothing to do with loving himself!! That wasn't the root cause!!

It horrified me that Jayce resurrected Viktor especially with Viktor saying he didn't feel cold anymore after he was revived aka he didn't have the same human feelings he should've. The resurrection CHANGED him. He didn't reject humanity. It was taken away from him!!

Jayce's speech just didn't fit with what truly caused the situation. At the end of the day, this was only caused by Viktor's and Jayce's desire for Viktor to survive. If they weren't so desperate for him to live, Viktor wouldn't have gone to Singed, got the shimmer, used it on himself, experimented, etc, etc and Jayce wouldn't have revived him without his consent. There was nothing inherently wrong with them wanting Viktor to survive but they did cause horrible things due to how they went about it yet somehow the show acts as if it is inherently wrong and points out the issues BUT IN THE WRONG WAY?? As if Viktor just wanted to not be disabled bc he wanted to be a better person or something and not bc he was about to die??? As if Jayce forcing Viktor into being merged with the Hexcore that killed Sky wasn't a big issue?? As if either of them were gonna accept Viktor's progression and that all Viktor had to do was accept himself the way he was???? What?? WTF?????

Of course, I'm really focusing on one part of the speech. Like I said earlier, depending on your interpretations the scene would be cute, but just hearing Jayce not get the overall fucking point was annoying. It's not his fault tho bc to be fair, he did get the job done and let Viktor finally rest in peace—

It's the damn writers' fault (•\ _ /•*) !!

People act as if the scene is so cute and I can't really tell them that they're 100% wrong because it IS written as Jayce being sincerely understanding and accepting and Viktor was shown to appreciate his words, but I just can't get over the fact that the true issues were overlooked. "Beauty in imperfections" my ass. There was another lesson that should've been taught about acceptance and it wasn't that one.

Ugh, I really hate seeing the scenes pop up on my dash and people quoting it or whatev. That and them making it a meme of Viktor becoming God because of a gay break up as if he didn't have every right to be upset over Jayce reviving him using a dangerous method without his consent and, in fact, with an explicit request for the thing involved in said dangerous method (the Hexcore) to be destroyed.

Rip my poor girl Sky... deserved more than what happened to you (⁠T⁠_T⁠) and sorry Mel that the writers made JayVik's relationship (platonic or not) "deeper" than what you had with Jayce as if you're not special too (⁠个^个⁠) each one of you guys (Jayce, Viktor, Sky, Mel, etc etc) deserved better ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´∆`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

UGHHHHH I HATE THOSE TWO+ ANTI SEMITIC, RACIST, IGNORANT BASTARDS!!!!

Arcane would've probably been better if they weren't in charge ((⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ !!!!

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

A/N: I didn't want to leave Lilia out of the series even though I only write platonic relationships with him, so I wrote about his ideal friend instead. Enjoy!

Characters: Diasomnia dorm (Malleus, Sebek, Silver) x GN!Reader (separate, romantic), Lilia and GN!Reader (platonic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Malleus' ideal type would be...

Someone who playfully teases him. Malleus can be quite a tease himself, and enjoys seeing people squirm under his playful eyes. While he knows how it feels to be at the receiving end of that treatment thanks to Lilia, he'd still get surprised if you reciprocate.

Someone who can see beauty in the desolate. Being the goth king-to-be that he is, Malleus' tastes tend to gravitate towards darker aesthetics: abandoned buldings, antiques, vintage paintings and furniture, gargoyles... He can't help but be slightly upset when people mistake a grotesque for a gargoyle, but he's amazed when you correct them before he gets to.

Someone who can enjoy grand gestures. It's possible it is a byproduct of him being a prince, but Malleus and words such as "subtle" or "small" are from different worlds. He just wants to shower you with the best offerings to show his attention. Maybe his desire to put valuables with you is because dragons tend to hoard treasure?

Someone who isn't afraid to call him out on things. Malleus is many things: powerful, wise, capable and kind. But he's also stubborn, prideful and has a tendency to do things first and ask later. When he unintentionally crosses your boundaries, tell him. When he plans to do something before asking, tell him. Don't be his yes man. He'll respect you immensely for calling him out. After all, you ability to treat him like any other student is what drew him to you in the first place.

『••✎••』

Lilia's ideal friend would be...

Someone who appreciates cooking. Lilia is a creative person, and it really shows in his cooking (for better or for worse). While eating his food is... a bit of a challenge, your interest would not go unnoticed. Who knows, maybe enough interest would have him allow you join him for a cooking session! A perfect opportunity to stop him from being too creative.

Someone who can take his jokes and pranks. What can I say, Lilia loves having a good laugh, even if sometimes comes at the expense of pulling a prank or two. While harmless, his pranks can be annoying. Take them on as a challenge, and you'll never find your slippers again, or you will have all of your mugs laid on your kitchen floor face down once every 17 mornings. Depends on you if you find that fun or not.

Someone who gets along with Silver and Malleus. His sons are his pride and joy, no matter what. While Lilia knows that sometimes people just don't fit well together, he can recognise effort when he sees it. If you want that spot at the dinner table, you have to get along with his family first.

Someone who can still love the world, despite any hardships. Lilia has lived on this earth for long and faced heartbreak after heartbreak, uncertainty and grief. His healing is not over, and that's okay. He'll appreciate you talking to him about how the would doesn't suck that badly after all.

『••✎••』

Sebek's ideal type would be...

Someone who respects Malleus and Lilia. If you want any chance of even getting along with Sebek, you have to pay your respects to two of the people he respects the most. While you don't have to kiss the ground they walk on, a few nods of approval during Sebek's endless speeches about their glory and superiority would not go unnoticed.

Someone who likes praising him. I'm not saying Sebek is easily swayed by praise, but he'd be joyous to hear how well he's doing. He's a dedicated guard with perfect scores at school and a will strong enough to move mountains. While the praise directed at him would be something he's not really accustomed to, he'd stop trying to redirect the praise towards Malleus soon enough.

Someone who challenges him. Sebek is not the most agreeable person, but he's always open to learning and improving himself. He's just very, very stubborn. You don't have to dismantle his whole ideology about humans or anything like that. Instead, just give him the puzzle pieces: he'll enjoy the challenge to figure out your thought process while trying to prove you wrong. Whatever the outcome is, Sebek will always come out of the other side with a newfound respect for you.

Someone who can teach him how to be gentle. Yes, Sebek is loud, extra and arrogant. But, above all, he wants to do right by his loved ones. If you can teach him how to come from a place of compassion and genuine goodwill instead of having him default on his aggresive demeanor, he'd be quite amazed with you. His job was never to be kind and gentle, but he can still be those things while protecting the people around him. He'll treasure everything you'll teach him, and he'll hold you in his heart close to his idols.

『••✎••』

Silver's ideal type would be...

Someone who respects Malleus and Lilia. While Silver is not the type to sing their praises during every moment of the day, he respects his liege and his father more than anything. He can't have someone disrespect two of the most important people in his life. It's the bare minimum for him if you want him to pay you any mind.

Someone who is earnest. Silver is a kind and sweet boy. His help and advice are always genuine. His dedication to protect the people he loves come from a desire to pay back the goodwill of the people in his life. He might not notice when people don't have the most genuine intentions, but he can tell when you are a nice person, especially to the people around him. His wariness will quickly dwindle, and he will warm up to you in no time.

Someone who knows when to nudge him awake and when to let him sleep. Silver dislikes how often he falls asleep during the day, and has a lot of guilt from not being to stay awake. He really takes note of how people react when he falls asleep near them or when they wake him up. Even though he still feels very helpless against his curse, if you still treat him just the same then he'd feel the littlest bit less guilty about it.

Someone who shows him he's enough. Above all else, Silver believes in paying back the kindness he has received from the world. He works very hard, harder than needed. Sometimes he needs to be sat down and told that he is doing enough. He is enough. It will not change his hard working nature overnight, but acknowledging his efforts sure makes him feel like he's going in the right direction.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i've realized recently that the source of my frustration with malleus (and i do like him) comes from the story not acknowledging the responsibility he has for his own level of isolation. it's like that story of a dog sitting in a cage although it's finally been opened, not leaving because the cage is all he knows (which is prominent in other stories as well; trauma shapes us. i those stories tho we are shown explicitly that the actions of the characters are wrong: riddle shouldn't be emulating his mother, idia should try to go on living despite the loss). with malleus though we have the story explain to us that his cage is a super special one, which is why he can't get out (which is also true for jamil-kalim, for instance, but they are both encouraged to process their cirumstances emotionally, even if they can't change them practically). and like. that's not entirely true? obviously malleus is under a lot of stress due to having to monitor his emotions and his royal status, but it's not the whole issue (at least imo). throughout the majority of vignettes and early main story content he actively engages in anti-socializing behavior (disappearing on people, not taking them seriously enough, not putting in enough effort into understanding them), so then seeing him be so upset not to be invited... feels strange? why is he expecting others to recognize his loneliness and keep reaching out to him when he isn't reciprocal?

and in itself i don't think it's a problem either. i do think this kind of behavior is typical for some people and i partially empathize with it as well. the problem is that the story treats him as being right instead of showing how his trauma impacted his way of thinking, leading to him making the wrong choices. clearly recognizing since childhood that you are a danger to others while also being brought up as "the chosen one", the only living relative of the ancient and powerful family, has some impact on the conceptualization of the world and others in it as different from you, weaker, not to be trusted and sometimes not to be understood. malleus has a very good reason to think of others as below him: in magical strength they are. it explains his thinking, but it shouldn't excuse it.

so i really wish there was at least some story bit showing malleus actively reaching out (how idia's ceremonial robes shows his attempts and how his mode of thinking prevents him from successfully connecting with others despite his efforts) and failing to do so successfully due to his own mechanisms rather than the comedic "woe is me" bit it often evolves into. i feel like his inability to understand technology (particularly the phone: complex, multi-purpose, neither durable nor stationary) can be seen as the metaphor for him not understanding people: rather than appreciate the things it allows him to do, malleus constantly bemoans how fragile and therefore useless it is, even though we know he can use technical appliances as long as they are straightforward enough and can take care of his gao-gao kun as long as he cares to see it as important enough, given to him by his (almost) equal. and so i wish the story highlighted that it's his responsibility, not the phone's to figure it out.

being "the chosen one" is difficult and isolating, but at a certain point you HAVE to try to leave the cage on your own. you can't be staring out the window longingly for the rest of your life.

sorry for jumbled sentences; i struggle to word this thought better, but i wanted to share it with you regardless, because i find that you are neither needlessly negative nor forgivingly positive in your outlook on the treatment of the characters in twst.

[This ask sort of goes along with my “Why I don’t like Lilia anymore” response!]

Thank you for your feedback and expressing your (very detailed) thoughts ^^ I've previously expressed similar frustrations with Malleus doing little to help his own situation.

I understand that Malleus has had a lonely upbringing (and honestly his behavior has been largely enabled by his caretakers and handlers), which would come to socially stunt him. His immense power and frightening reputation certainly doesn't help his situation either. Malleus being twisted from THE Maleficent explains the running "joke" of him always being left out of group gatherings. A lot of this is learned helplessness. Learned helplessness can quickly devolve into willful ignorance. It eventually gets to a point where it feels unrealistic and grating. This is especially because the narrative tends to frame Malleus's loneliness as purely the fault of others and their inability to understand him... even though I think it makes complete sense that others would not like him??

These people have no understanding of who Malleus is (beyond the name and title) or of his background. From their perspective, all they see is someone who constantly ghosts them, dismisses them, and doesn't reach out to connect despite their own multiple attempts to do so. They email him, send letters, visit him, conduct group searches, etc. all in an effort to fetch him. "What are we supposed to do," Azul questions, "begin every meeting by searching for Malleus? This is HIS problem."

Malleus gets defensive and deflects when Lilia calls him out for using excuses for not being at dorm leader meetings. "Are you questioning my intentions? You of all people? Humans often fear us creatures of the night. Many avoid our company out of sheer fright. It was you and Grandmother who taught me that. And you were both right. It's not my fault I don't attend such gatherings. The humans who fear me for no good reason are to blame." Though Lilia chastises Malleus for this way of thinking, the narrative will ironically go on to almost weaponize Malleus's loneliness as a means of making everyone else around him look as though they're lacking empathy when Malleus shares a fair bit of the responsibility for continuing to not respect his peers' time. Why are his peers not granted the same amount of leniency as Malleus is? It seems grossly unfair. It's always Malleus's classmates who are putting forth the emotional effort and labor to contact him, but almost never the other way around. The onus is, for some reason, always on them and never on him 😭 even when he must be aware this is a repeated issue??

On the rare occasion where Malleus is proactive, he turns others off by making arrogant comments and/or refusing to truly take the human perspective to heart. Malleus is putting forth little to no effort to resolve his own social conflicts with others, which only further perpetuates the problems and misunderstandings. I'm not saying that this is easy or that it should be easy for him, but the fact of the matter is that Malleus is granted several opportunities to engage with his peers, yet he squanders most of them, even when he is provided advice + wisdom from Lilia and corrections from his classmates.

Those that shun Malleus are frequently treated as though they are in the wrong for their perspective, and that’s so frustrating. The game never outright says “X is a bad person for being afraid of Malleus or getting upset at him for showing up late!” But it’s pretty clear how Twst wants us to perceive them from how often they explain away or justify every instance of Malleus failing to socialize. He has a messed up sense of time, everyone is so scared of him, he doesn’t want to break invitation etiquette, etc. These all feel concocted to make us feel bad for Malleus and want to take his side. I really dislike that so much of his appeal rides on these “woe is me” tactics.

Not once does the narrative suggest that others are correct for feeling anything negative towards him or even slighted by the inconveniences he causes. It’s in Malleus’s favor, forever painting him as “just misunderstood”. Malleus is frequently depicted as a victim of circumstances, and presented as someone we (the players) should pity and want to uplift because "no one else sees him like we do". He is left stunted and his loneliness is retooled to be a "moe" trait to the players, or used as a punchline to a joke. I honestly think this is the main issue with Malleus's character writing: he's not ALLOWED to seriously be held accountable for anything he says or does because 1) his character development has to be held off on until book 7 and 2) he has to be kept as the player’s “special friend”, therefore few of his other classmates can change him or get to know him intimately. And Malleus’s Very Real Issues are often relegated to a “haha isn’t he so cute and pouty?” or “oh no, he’s ANGY” moment in order to endear him to the player. His writing constantly feels like it is struggling to balance actually making sense and making him silly just for the sake of appeasing the audience. This is endlessly frustrating, and not even the only instance where Twst does this. (Another example is how Silver’s legitimate health condition is marketed as part of his appeal.)

One moment that really rubbed me the wrong way was at the end of book 7, when Lilia… apologized to Malleus for not realizing Malleus was lonely???? I was so shocked when Lilia dropped that line. It shouldn’t be anyone else’s responsibility to read Malleus’s mind, especially when be fails to properly communicate his thoughts. Maybe Lilia feels responsible for him, or maybe the point is that Malleus struggles to convey his emotions in a clear and concise manner (as his post-OB backstory shows us). However, when this moments comes after years and years of Malleus not taking accountability for his words and actions, it really does feel like an affirmation that Malleus is never in the wrong (even when senators aren’t hovering to literally tell him he did nothing wrong); it’s actually everyone else around him that’s responsible for not paying enough attention to his wants and needs. That… feels so incredibly off to me 😭 All characters should be allowed to make mistakes—but when the universe acts as though the mistakes Malleus makes aren’t actually mistakes, it’s basically the same as absolving him of them without asking that he put forth the same amount of effort to reflect and improve as an individual.

The irony is that there are loud Malleus fans on the English-speaking side of the fandom that will defend his actions by blaming those around him 💀 literally by deflecting and pointing fingers at the senators, at Lilia, even saying the other OB boys are “worse” than Malleus just so he can come out of book 7 “clean” and having done no wrong. (That last point particularly unnerves me because it lacks empathy for the others in the cast and minimizes their experiences. How would you feel if someone was talking down your trauma and saying you’re “worse” than another traumatized person??? Not good, I bet. We shouldn’t be saying person A’s trauma is somehow worth more or less than person B’s.) This is another way in which Malleus is enabled and encouraged to never change, because few people (whether in-universe or in the fandom) call him out for his “oopsies” and make him self reflect and grow.

I find your technology comparison interesting 🤔 It suggests that, given the right scenario, Malleus can learn to socialize with others, just like he can learn to play with a virtual pet. The issue is… what WILL it take to get him to that point?? He has already been granted many chances, has a handful of open-minded classmates or those that are not scared of him (Ace, Deuce, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Rook, Cater, even Rollo), and Lilia there to help him out—but none of these have proven to be significantly useful to Malleus’s social growth. The end of book 7 seems to imply that nearly losing Lilia and literally having a part of him cut off is what it will take to get him to see the other side?? That feels so unnecessarily extreme and implies even showing Malleus some simple way to understand engaging with humans wouldn’t have helped him?? We needed to scare him into actually valuing putting forth all this effort into better understand other races??? Am I to understand that Malleus did not view connecting with others (50% of which is in his hands) as an important responsibility until he literally almost brought about a cataclysm and nearly permanently killed a loved one?? I… don’t think that’s intended, but that’s partially what I’m walking away with 💀

“[…] it’s his responsibility, not the phone's, to figure it out.” This point makes me think of when Malleus fries his phone with lightning, thereby making it impossible for him to receive text messages. In that case, he’s the one that damaged his phone. The fact that he did not get the intended message isn’t the phone’s fault when he was the one that shot lightning at it. Therefore, it is also Malleus’s job to repair said phone so it can work again. This should also be true of his connections… and I’m REALLY hoping this is what book 8 may cover.

[lexilovestom]

NEEDED COMFORT

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

— in which: Tom comes home late from the studio, as expected, and is clearly overworked in need of comfort

⌞ contains: fluff (idk if this is cringe you guys help) ⌝

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I'm laying on the couch, the house is dark and the only source of light is the moon that shines from the large window that's draped with white curtains and the tv in front of me that's playing tonight's second movie. I'm wrapped in a fuzzy blanket as I grab my phone from the coffee table to check the time: 12:15am.

Tom texted me about two hours ago to inform me that he will come home late from the studio since him and the boys were having trouble saving some song progress which led them to start all over again. Terrible! He even sent me a picture of Bill asleep on the couch with a microphone in his left hand...

So I just know Tom is extremely tired as well, hence being the producer of the band. I feel so bad for all of them.

I'm very proud of him for getting up everyday and go to the studio with no break throughout the weekdays, but I will admit I miss having him next to me during the daytime. Though, I know he's very passionate about his music, and I look up to him a lot for balancing his work time in the studio with our relationship at home. He never fails to make me smile once he gets back in the evening, so I make sure he gets the same treatment also.

I promised to myself I would wait for him every night to come back, no matter the time. So that's what I'm doing. Or at least, what I'm trying to do.

I almost drift to sleep, when I suddenly hear the front door behind me open and close gently. The sound of dangling keys, baggy jeans, and the chilly wind from outside makes me look over the back of the sofa to find Tom in a warm grey sweatshirt that he zips down before looking over me with tired eyes.

"Heyy," I softly say, as I sit up to see him better. His expression is cold and deprived of sleep, which makes me furrow my eyebrows in sorrow as I wait for a response.

"Hey baby," Tom softly forces himself to say before slowly coming to the couch, "you didn't have to wait for me." He sits down on my blanket and leans his head on the back of the couch with his hands on his face.

"I had to. How are you? you seem exhausted," I caress his raised right arm softly in need to give him some form of warmth. I know this isn't easy for him.

"That's because I am... I couldn't stop thinking about when I was gonna get home and done rerecording all the lost files." I nod slowly before mouthing a quiet 'oh'.

"Did you manage to get them back at least?" I gently ask as I break the soothing silence.

He slowly shakes his head no, "we had to start all over again and in the end I would say we pretty much did... but you know, it's not the same for most of them."

"I understand... but hey, on the bright side you managed to get most of the job done! if they're not great then I suppose you can fix them tomorrow or when in need when you're more awake. You're very overworked, Tom. You deserve to rest."

I softly but my hand under his chin to make him look at me. His eyes are red and sleepy, his expression cold yet soft at the same time, his jaw clenched. I feel so full of sorrow while looking in his eyes. I know he's making magic for all the fans in the studio, but today he's worked about 15 hours with maybe 2 hours of break.

Tom suddenly breaks at my touch as I feel his expression soften under my fingers. I then tug on my blanket, signaling for him to raise his hips so that I can pull it from under him, which he does. I slowly uncover myself, "come here baby," I say with arms open as he gently adjusts himself on the couch to cuddle me.

He gets in between my legs, wraps his arms around my waist, and places his head on my heart. I smile as I cover ourselves in my warm blanket. Tom's hands are cold as I feel them against my back, his heart is pounding, his breathing is deep... but as I hold him tight and softly rub his back, I feel him relax and let out all that pressure he's bottled throughout the week.

"You're home now, baby. Get as much rest as you please and don't think of anything else, hm? I'm so proud of you, you're doing the best you can and you're doing it amazingly. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, but just know that whenever you feel like it's too much, it's never bad to take a break. Can you stay home tomorrow? It's Friday."

Tom thinks for a moment before nodding an unsure yes, "I don't really know, schatz... but I'll try to tell the boys that I feel sick and we'll see from there."

I smile warmly as I look at him and kiss his forehead, "Okay, get some rest now." I say just above a whisper as I hold him tighter while we both adjust our posture.

"Thank you, liebe. I wouldn't know what to do without you. I really needed this." Tom interrupts the silence in a sleepy voice, which makes my heart melt. "I love you."

"I love you too, Tom. Whenever you need something you know I'm always here for you." As soon as I finish my sentence Tom lifts his head up and plants a small peck on my lips followed by a mouthed 'thank you'. Before resting his head on my chest once again as we both fall asleep in each others embrace.

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y'all idk how i feel about thiiissss 😭 it's been in my drafts for a long time & idk if it's cringe or cute Imfao, but either way i hope you enjoyed it and make sure to send requests if you want to!! ♡︎ love yaaa i'm so happy to be back 🤭

[pietrosbulletsstuff]

Waking up pietro to ask him to help you fall asleep 

As you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours and hours until you finally decided to check the time.. 2:49 am read back. You turned over and looked at Pietro for a few minutes debating if you wanted to wake him. You've been debating about this for a while as you started up at the ceiling. You didn't want to bother him but you've tried almost everything to fall asleep. You tap pietro lightly a couple of times. You slowly started to become impatient. 

“Pietro” you say while tapping him lighting on his shoulder. 

‘What's the matter” his accent more proficient since he just woke up 

“I can't fall asleep" you say as you look at him with a slight pout. 

You make eye contact in the dark the only light source being from the small plug from the wall

he asks “well in what way do you want me to help? baby..” Touching the side of your face. 

“Pietro, you know how you can help me.. Please?” 

Pietro pretends to think for a moment– after what seemed hours you turned your back towards him- embarrassed nevermind 

Without saying anything you turned over pulling some of the cover with you, rolling your eyes.

    Pietro laughs as he jokingly asks you to turn over. you ignore him feeling embarrassed that this happened. He moves closer to you in the bed and says “Baby I'm sorry.. I know what you want.” while kissing your neck. “I just wanted to mess with you a little. That's all, I promise I'm sorry.”

You decided to give pietro the silent treatment. You can feel pietro sitting up in the bed moving towards the end of the bed but don't pay it any attention. As he gently lifts up your knee to and kind of moves you so you can lay on your back. He moves in between the middle of your legs; picking up your ankle and kissing it as he makes his way up. 

you take a slow deep breath in as Pietro asks, “is this what you wanted me to help you with? Hm? I wanna hear your voice, princess.” “Pietro…” you breathe out; he leaves purple bruises on your thighs. He starts kissing that area around the bruises briefly. 

 he stops and asks “do you forgive me?” while hovering over you; kissing your neck once again. “No.” You say. He takes that as a challenge as he says a smug “okay” with a smirk starting to grow on his face. “That's fine with me when we are done you're gonna forget why you were even mad at me.”

Before you can think of what to say back he attaches his mouth and you gasp. automatically your hands go to his hair which pushes him deeper into you. You knew he liked the feeling of your hands getting somewhat tangled in his hair. to be honest you liked it too because it gave you some sense of control.

 As your hand tangled in his hair you lifted your left leg up and put it on his shoulder. His tongue circled your clit before he fully took it in his mouth. Your back arched off the bed as you removed your hands from his hair and moved your right hand to the pillow under you and your left hand balled the cover where pietro once lied. Your eyes fell closed but they opened as soon as you felt pietro pulling away. You sit up on your elbows to see why he stopped. He reached up and pulled your hands back down to his hair. 

 When you finally reached your peak he put 2 fingers inside of you so you can ride out your high. You moved your hands from his hair to put them on his face as you gently brought him up to lean over you as you kissed him.

You reached down to pull his pajama pants down to return the favor but then he reached over y/n to check the time then looked back to you. This time leaning over you on his forearms so that all of his weight isn't crushing you- He said “you don't have to” “but i want to help” you said. He laid next to you and reached his arm around you to pull you closer. 

You can help at another time; now go to sleep he said as he kissed the side of your forehead. A few minutes later he turned his head towards you to find you asleep. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes to fall asleep himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

word count: 781 words

(I'm open to criticism as long as you're nice about it since this is the first thing I've ever written, also feel free to request i'll probably be putting up the list of people ill write for later)

[otherkinnews]

Russia proposes banning quadrobics and furry fandom

[This article was originally posted on the main blog for Otherkin News, on DreamWidth: https://otherkinnews.dreamwidth.org/95252.html Orion Scribner @frameacloud wrote it on December 8, 2024.]

The Kremlin-aligned Safe Internet League is an organization for censoring the internet in Russia and educating the public about risks they may encounter there. The State Duma Committee on Family, Women and Children helped establish the organization in 2011. The League’s Ombudsman is Irina Volynets. In the spring of 2024, Volynets said that the furry fandom and quadrobics are both dangerous hobbies. She said that furries dress as pigs and eat from troughs. (Later, a furry explained to the news that they don’t do that.) Soon afterward, Volynets claimed to have received death threats from quadrobists, which she said shows they’re generally hostile. The League doesn’t plan to ban cartoons for having furry characters. Instead, they want to ban quadrobics and furry fans for encouraging “crazy” behavior and having direct connections with LGBT. Russia bans LGBT for allegedly being an extremist movement.

At the end of the summer of 2024, Russian pop singer Mia Boyka humiliated a small child for expressing an interest in quadrobics. Boyka derided the cat-masked child to tears on the concert stage in front of a booing audience. Boyka then posted a video clip of that to her TikTok, asking her followers what they thought of quadrobics. The child’s parents filed a police report, because they hadn’t consented to Boyka doing any of this. The child had been brought on stage because she had gotten lost at the concert so her parents could come find her. Other celebrities and authorities scolded Boyka for her cruelty. Yekaterina Mizulina, head of the Safe Internet League, wrote to the Prosecutor’s Office of the Russian Federation that she thought that what Boyka did was unacceptable treatment of a child, even though she didn’t support quadrobics either.

In September, soon after Boyka’s video clip went viral, Russian Senator Natalia Kosikhina proposed banning quadrobics. The Senator claimed that the sport was dangerous because supposedly, quadrobist teens attack and bite people who visit parks. So far, I haven’t found names, dates, or proof that those sorts of attacks actually happened. State Duma deputy Svetlana Bessarab says the ban is unnecessary, because the Code of Administrative Offenses would cover any bad behavior that could develop in connection with the hobby, whereas the hobby itself is a healthy form of play.

Something consistent across the articles that I read about this is that they describe quadrobics as a fashionable hobby among children and teens, derived from normal ways that smaller children play, and connected with the furry fandom. They don’t mention therianthropes.

About the author: Orion Scribner is a moderator on the Otherkin News blog. I used machine translation to get the gist of the Russian-language sources, which isn't a real translation, so I welcome corrections to that from fluent speakers. However, I never write articles with the assistance of procedural generation or so-called artificial intelligence (AI), and that type of content isn’t allowed on this blog.

Annotated List of Sources

Fliskaya, Anna, and Lomeiko, Alexandra (Анна Флиская, Александра Ломейко) (September 11, 2024). “Больше запретов — выше интерес. Кому и чем не угодили квадроберы.” (“More bans, more interest. Who and what did not please the quadrobists.”) 360.ru. https://360.ru/news/obschestvo/bolshe-zapretov-vyshe-interes-komu-i-chem-ne-ugodili-kvadrobery/ Archived September 27, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20240927163837/https://360.ru/news/obschestvo/bolshe-zapretov-vyshe-interes-komu-i-chem-ne-ugodili-kvadrobery/

Bessarab’s interview with 360.ru, where he said the ban isn’t necessary. 360.ru is the news site counterpart of the TV satellite channel called "360°," which has 24-hour news. It's owned by the Russian government, and I noticed in one of the other articles from them that they had distorted the facts of events.

Kedr.Media (September 12, 2024). “«Может привести к трагическим последствиям». В Совфеде заявили о необходимости запрета квадробинга — детского подражания животным.” (“‘It could lead to tragic consequences.’ The Federation Council has declared the need to ban quad-racing — children's imitation of animals.”) Kedr.Media.https://kedr.media/news/mozhet-privesti-k-tragicheskim-posledstviyam-v-sovfede-zayavili-o-neobhodimosti-zapreta-kvadrobinga-detskogo-podrazhaniya-zhivotnym/ Archived December 4, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241204123625/https://kedr.media/news/mozhet-privesti-k-tragicheskim-posledstviyam-v-sovfede-zayavili-o-neobhodimosti-zapreta-kvadrobinga-detskogo-podrazhaniya-zhivotnym/

About the proposed ban, and how psychologists and authorities don’t support the ban and think it’s okay for children to be quadrobists. Kedr.Media is an independent social media blog that usually covers news about the environment.

Kholodov, Vlad (Влад Холодов) (April 26, 2024). “Психиатр Федорович: Увлечение «фурри» может нарушить психику ребенка.” (“Psychiatrist Fedorovich: The furry fandom can violate the psyche of the child.”) Общественной службе новостей (Public News Source). https://www.osnmedia.ru/obshhestvo/psihiatr-fedorovich-uvlechenie-furri-mozhet-narushit-psihiku-rebenka/ Archived May 26, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20240526235959/https://www.osnmedia.ru/obshhestvo/psihiatr-fedorovich-uvlechenie-furri-mozhet-narushit-psihiku-rebenka/

This is the original interview with the children’s psychiatrist Alexander Fedorovich about the furry fandom. Despite the clickbait headline, Federovich says that the furry fandom isn’t inherently bad for children, but parents should supervise and pull children out of it if they get into age-inappropriate risks. That seems reasonable, but he does make a strange claim that role-play can interfere with a child’s developing sense of identity, and that it would be healthy only if they do not have an animal character all the time.

Kosolapova, Tatiana (Татьяна Косолапова) (September 12, 2024). “Психолог рассказала, как вести себя при встрече с агрессивными квадроберами” (“The psychologist told how to behave when meeting with aggressive quadrobist.”) Vzglyad. https://vz.ru/news/2024/9/12/1286730.html Archived November 8, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241108083139/https://vz.ru/news/2024/9/12/1286730.html In Russian.

An interview with a psychotherapist from Moscow State University, Vera Sukhikh, about what she thinks of quadrobics. She praises their athleticism as they play outside, and doesn’t think it’s inherently any harm. The journalist claims that quadrobists attack and bite people. The psychotherapist doesn’t actually agree that that happens, but advises that if they do attack you, they’re only children, so you should just explain to them that’s not appropriate behavior. Media Bias Fact Check rates this newspaper as a questionable source with propaganda and many failed fact checks.

Lutsenko, Nadezhda, and Petrov, Anatoly (Надежда Луценко, Анатолий Петров). (September 5, 2024). “«Замаскированная форма экстремизма». В России призвали запретить движение квадроберов.” (“‘A Disguised Form of Extremism’: Russia Calls for Banning Quadrobics Movement.”) 360.ru.https://360.ru/tekst/obschestvo/zamaskirovannaja-forma-ekstremizma-v-rossii-prizvali-zapretit-dvizhenie-kvadroberov/ Archived October 8, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241008065407/https://360.ru/tekst/obschestvo/zamaskirovannaja-forma-ekstremizma-v-rossii-prizvali-zapretit-dvizhenie-kvadroberov/

Political scientist Alexei Yaroshenko has an interview with 360.ru about what he thinks of quadrobics. He says Russia should recognize quadrobics as an extremist movement and banned. He says quadrobists attack passersby because when people imitate animal behavior, they are no longer guided by human morals. He says it’s the same as how people can be transgender in the West. He compares it with the “Blue Whale Challenge,” and says that quadrobics is also a deadly game. (Orion’s note: the Blue Whale Challenge is an urban legend. It was a moral panic in 2016 where people were afraid that millions of youth were committing suicide as the climax of a specific series of dares being given to them by administrators on social media.) He says that if children play on all fours, then next they will want to cross the street at the wrong place, as animals do. Everything he said was out of touch with reality. This is also the only source I read that claimed that the pop singer hadn’t really insulted the little child, that she had told her she was beautiful without her mask. That’s a distortion of facts, because independent news sources and Kremlin-aligned ones had all agreed that the pop star had gone too far in mistreating the child.

Moscow Times Reporter (September 13, 2024). “What Is Quadrobics, Russia’s Viral But Divisive Youth Subculture?” The Moscow Times. https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2024/09/13/what-is-quadrobics-russias-viral-but-divisive-youth-subculture-a86370 Archived October 8, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241008073201/https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2024/09/13/what-is-quadrobics-russias-viral-but-divisive-youth-subculture-a86370

Media Bias Fact Check rates this as a high credibility source with a left-center bias. This is the English-language source where I first heard about this. Hat tip to Mord for having posted a link to it in the Discord server for the Otherkin Wiki. Many of the other sources that I’m listing here, I learned about them from this article.

Mustafa, Samer (Самер Мустафа) (September 11, 2024). “В России предложили запретить квадроберов.” (“Russia proposes banning quadrobics.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/politics/news/2024/09/11/23896279.shtml?updated

Media Bias Fact Check says this is “one of Russia’s leading online newspapers,” but rates the newspaper as a questionable source, lacking in transparency. This article is a secondary source. It says RIA Novosti is the primary source for this news. That one is elsewhere in my list of sources.

Nekasrov, Ivan (Иван Некрасов) (September 3, 2024). “«Позор тебе и твоим фанатам»: Миа Бойка унизила ребенка со сцены — теперь ее требуют отменить.” (“‘Shame on you and your fans:’ Mia Boyka humiliated the child from the stage – now they demand to cancel it.”) Chita.ru. https://www.chita.ru/text/culture/2024/09/03/74039252/ Archived September 9, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20240909054834/https://www.chita.ru/text/culture/2024/09/03/74039252/ In Russian.

This magazine article goes into the most depth about the pop singer publicly humiliating a small child for liking quadrobics.

RIA Novosti (November 9, 2024). “В Совфеде предложили запретить субкультуру квадроберов.” (“The Federation Council proposed banning the quadrobics subculture.”) RIA Novosti. https://ria.ru/20240911/kvadrobery-1971964812.html Archived October 8, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241008010414/https://ria.ru/20240911/kvadrobery-1971964812.html

About the Senator’s proposal to ban quadrobics. I think this article may be the primary source for her proposal. It sounds like she said it directly to this newspaper. If there’s a legal source for the proposed ban itself, I don’t know where to look for it. Media Bias Fact Check rates this Russian government owned newspaper as a questionable source with state propaganda and many failed fact checks.

Titorenko, Danila (Данила Титоренко) (April 23, 2024). “В Татарстане рассказали о новой вредоносной субкультуре с Запада.” (“Tatarstan talks about a new harmful subculture from the West.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/social/news/2024/04/23/22855358.shtml

Volynets says she will fight the furry fandom because it is from the West. She says that furries engage in psychologically destructive behavior, such as– she claims– eating out of troughs like pigs.

Vesnina, Alexandra (Александра Веснина) (April 27, 2024). “«Размытие границ»: Волынец увидела в квадробике расчеловечивание.” (“‘Blurring the Lines’: Volynets Sees Dehumanization in the Quadrobists.”) Национальная служба новостей (National News Service). https://nsn.fm/society/razmytie-granits-volynets-uvidela-v-kvadrobike-raschelovechivanie Archived November 1, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20241101212302/https://nsn.fm/society/razmytie-granits-volynets-uvidela-v-kvadrobike-raschelovechivanie

Volynets announced in Russia's National News Service press center that after she spoke against quadrobists, she received death threats.

Vesnina, Alexandra (Александра Веснина) (April 27, 2024). “«Дурачество!»: Милонов предрек исчезновение квадробики через полгода.” (“‘Stupidity!’: Milonov predicts quadrobics will disappear in six months.”) Национальная служба новостей (National News Service)https://nsn.fm/society/durost-milonov-predrek-ischeznovenie-kvadrobiki-cherez-polgoda Archived April 27, 2024: https://web.archive.org/web/20240427112916/https://nsn.fm/society/durost-milonov-predrek-ischeznovenie-kvadrobiki-cherez-polgoda

Vitaly Milnov is the Deputy Chairman of the State Duma Committee on Family Protection, Paternity, Motherhood and Childhood. He says that the furry fandom and quadrobics are foolish teen fads that come from Japan and Korea. He says everyone will forget about it later this year.

Zakarian, Ekaterina (April 23, 2024). “Фурри заявили Ирине Волынец, что не подражают свиньям и не едят из корыта.” (“Furry told Irina Volynets that they do not imitate pigs and do not eat from troughs.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/social/news/2024/04/23/22856132.shtml?updated

An anonymous administrator of a furry fandom community on the social media network VKontakte spoke up about how Volynets is spreading misinformation about furry fans. He says they don’t imitate animal behavior or eat from troughs, as Volynets claimed. Instead, they appreciate cartoon animals that behave like humans, including those from Soviet cartoons, not just from the West.

Zamanova, Rosalia (Розалия Заманова) (April 26, 2024). “Психиатр заявил об опасности субкультуры фурри для психики ребенка.” (“Psychiatrist warns about the dangers of a furry subculture for the psyche of the child.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/social/news/2024/04/26/22877533.shtml

This is a secondary source reporting on the Public News Source’s interview with the children’s psychiatrist Alexander Federovich, which I have elsewhere in this list of sources.

Zamanova, Rosalia (Розалия Заманова) (May 2, 2024). “Волынец заявила об угрозах от представителей квадробика.” (“Volynets reported threats from representatives of quadrobics.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/social/news/2024/05/02/22918993.shtml

Volynets claims that after she started writing on social media that quadrobists are dangerous, she received death threats from them.

Zamanova, Rosalia (Розалия Заманова) (September 12, 2024). “В Госдуме не поддержали идею запретить квадроберов в России.” (“Duma did not support banning quadrobics in Russia.”) Gazeta.ru. https://www.gazeta.ru/social/news/2024/09/12/23906437.shtml

This is a secondary source about the interview with 360.ru.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

i feel like i remember you saying that aspirin not only kills but also stops time lords from regenerating but now i can't find that anywhere. did i just completely make that up or....??

Does aspirin prevent Time Lords from regenerating?

💊 Aspirin and Gallifreyans: The Bitter Pill

Aspirin is a very common drug to Earthlings—you've probably taken it for a headache, a fever, or maybe to thin your blood.

It works by blocking the cyclooxygenase (COX) enzyme, which is responsible for producing prostaglandins—compounds involved in inflammation, fever, and platelet aggregation (aka blood clotting). It reduces pain, lowers fever, and stops platelets from clumping, which helps prevent strokes and heart attacks.

In humans, this is a good thing. In Gallifreyans, for some reason, it is an absolute biochemical catastrophe.

😵 Within Minutes:

Aspirin doesn't just inhibit clotting in Gallifreyans—it triggers full-spectrum physiological meltdown. The immune and endocrine systems go into overdrive, setting off a storm that mimics—and then escalates beyond—severe anaphylaxis.

Symptoms may include:

Chest tightness and shortness of breath

Nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea

Facial swelling (eyes, lips, tongue)

Slurred speech and confusion

Rapid hearts rate, plummeting blood pressure

Throat closure and suffocation

A vivid sense of impending doom

And then it gets worse. Once the antiplatelet effect kicks in, the Gallifreyan body appears to misread the signal. Instead of thinning the blood, it decides it's bleeding to death, and starts frantically triggering artron-enhanced platelet aggregation.

The result is massive internal clots with nowhere to go.

Lungs → pulmonary embolism

Brain → cerebral stroke

Hearts → cardiac arrest

It's dramatic and agonising, and without immediate intervention, it's almost certainly fatal.

⚠️ Can They Regenerate?

Yes, but not if you're too far gone.

If the damage happens too quickly—or if the embolisms strike key areas like the lindal gland (which governs release of the regeneration-triggering lindos hormone)—then regeneration won't even get the chance to start.

It comes down to:

Dosage

Absorption method

Response time

If intervention comes quickly, regeneration may occur or be unnecessary. If not, the body collapses, and the chance is lost.

💉 How Can I Help?

Immediate medical treatment includes:

Epinephrine/adrenaline — as soon as possible

High-flow oxygen and IV fluids

Chocolate — Medicinal for Gallifreyans, and especially effective in early-stage toxicity

Recovery can take up to a week, and biphasic reactions (a second wave of symptoms) could possibly occur up to 72 hours later. If delayed too long, survivors may still face long-term complications: neurological, cardiac, or respiratory.

🏫 So...

Aspirin poisoning isn't always a death sentence, but it's incredibly serious, and it can absolutely prevent regeneration if the reaction is severe enough and untreated.

Avoid at all costs:

Clopidogrel

Dipyridamole

Abciximab

Thrombin

Vitamin K

Basically, anything that meddles with clotting.

We're not saying one leaf of spinach is instant doom, but due to the severity of this reaction, if your Gallifreyan's eaten a whole bowl of kale, then you'd better get some chocolate ready.

Related:

🤔|🛡️⚡How does healing work in Time Lords and hybrids?: Healing processes with some helpful guides to timeframes.

💬|🛡️💉Does Gallifrey have vaccines (or an equivalent)?: How their immune systems can be primed by methods other than vaccination.

🤔|🛡️🏥Are Gallifreyans allergic to anything?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[rendiamberspirit]

Time travel AU

From the 4th Shinobi war.

Tobirama realizes there is no way to win the war. He doesn't know where Naruto's team is, everyone is trapped in these cocoons except him and his fellow Hokage. They talk it through and it's decided one of them needs to go back.

In the end it's decided that Tobirama is the best choice, he will be able to actively support the younger Hashirama earlier and can make sure Izuna survives. He knows he will be able to convince his younger self. Whereas if Hashirama goes back Tobirama's younger self would never fully trust him.

Obviously Sarutobi and Minato aren't an option, no one would know them.

They pool together their chakra and send Tobirama back.

Only he doesn't go back to the warring era, he ends up in Konoha.

They hadn't planned for this. He has no idea what went wrong here. He isn't even sure what time period he is in. Is everything doomed already?

A quick trip to a mirror reveals him to be in his early 30's, likely the same age he died at. Thankfully not in his Edo Tensei form, but the version of him before death.

He does some recon and sees familiar faces, Hiruzen is Hokage, he sees a younger Minato, so before Naruto was born. He finds Kakashi, but he's only an adorable little brat in need of affection. He also finds Itachi, the brother Sasuke was avenging. At least he assumes so, the child is only 3. There is only one Itachi in the clan so he thinks that is a safe bet.

What he wasn't expecting to find was Obito. Happy as can be, in truth, reminding him so much of Naruto. Both of them are so goofy but with such genuine smiles. And loud. He had kind of just assumed the boy was bad from the beginning.

So Tobirama decides to make a list of goals.

1. Figure out why Obito joins Madara

1.5 Steal the boy. Seriously. He is such a sweet child and everyone just seems to be over looking. And who lets children live alone at such a young age?

2. Find out what causes the coup d'etat and stop that.

3. Talk to Hiruzen, while he understands doing whatever to keep the peace in the village, that was a 13 year old boy. How fucking dare he allow that.

4. Steal Kakashi. That boy was being treated like an adult and he was 11 tops. He shouldn't be a genin let alone a chunin.

5. Find Madara, probably kill him.

6. Find Zetsu, definitely kill him.

7. Find the corruption Sasuke spoke of and eradicate it. Even if it stemmed from his own earlier choices.

He really wishes he had more information on the village and what went wrong.

It had never occurred to him the possibility of landing in any other time period than the one he intended to.

He is able to learn some key information that will help in some of his goals for sure.

Danzo is without a doubt up to something. He is often seen with that snake Orochimaru disappearing into warded underground bunkers. There is something hidden in the Hokage monument that Danzo is trying to keep hidden. He is certain this is the source of at least some of the corruption.

The Uchiha police force is definitely a problem. His idea clearly backfired and was instead causing a bigger rift in the village. Though the Uchiha weren't completely innocent in this either. He had witnessed more than one abuse of power already.

There were numerous children who graduated from the academy too early. He saw an 8 year old Uchiha boy that was being sent on courier missions already, in a war! (He might possibly be adding another goal, as he was sure that this was the grandson of Kagami, to take on an apprentice).

Sarutobi was surprisingly weak. He seemed to let others make decisions for him.

Orochimaru he knew from the 4th shinobi war could be swayed to be good if it benefited him. So he felt there was a chance at least that he could pry him away from his former student.

The treatment of orphans was going to have to change. What happened to the orphanage he set up? (Possibly another goal. His list got longer every day.)

Now he just needs to decide where to start.

Probably the most attainable. Madara and Zetsu could take years to find. He needs to focus on what he can fix today.

The children then. The two Uchiha boys and the Hatake boy.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Agsfgs

He's a god of fertility, among other things

Imagine if Y/N prayed to Khonshu for their own fertility and just

Khonshu appears, offers them help with fertility, he gives them a few options. Just the regular magic method of helping or he physically helps them get pregnant... with his child, of course

Like, hot, but also can you imagine praying to a god, they show up and basically say "okay I can help you the normal way, or we can do this the fun way and make a baby together"

Obviously Y/N agreed to have a kid with him cuz like. C'mon. Look at him

He's of course a very attentive father and partner afterward. He's not blind to the struggle new life brings along with the joy

Okay, okay, I know this isn't exactly what you were picturing but--

Wings of A Prayer

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Infertility problems, mentions of miscarriages, self-doubt, depression, suicidal thoughts, sort of alcoholism, fluff, hinted at sexy times but nothing is pictured, Marc and the boys learn that there's more to the pissy old bird than meets the eye! (Naturally canon-fudging and merging with the comics again) And a major time skip! My personal headcanon that Khonshu looks like Oded Fehr rears its head once more!

A/N: Whew... this one is long! Surprisingly, no smut in this one. But I realized I am sorely lacking on Khonshu fluff since y'all are almost always just as horny for him as I am. I also did some research and... Wow. Some scary stuff. I'm sorry if this strikes a painful chord with some of you. I had to stop writing this a few times and take a break because it was making me tear up.

It had been... horrible, to say the least. Your life had been one giant trainwreck so far. Your heart had been wanting for something for so long, and... Well...

Your apartment was a gray, flat... hollow living space to you. It was lacking in... something. And that something was a giggly, chubby, cuddly little person. You thought about getting a pet, but... there was an itching inside of you. And itching for something--someone--of your own.

You had been living on your own since cutting off contact with your parents; and dating had been an absolutely dog shit experience since your teen years. But as you got older, and your friends all went their separate ways, living their own lives and starting their own families, you realized... You wanted that. To be the home you never really had growing up, a source of unconditional love and understanding.

You weren't stupid--you did your research beforehand, looked into every legal document you could. Instead of getting pregnant, you'd looked into fostering or adoption.

But you just... you couldn't afford it. The cost of adopting would have bankrupt you, and your increasing financial instability as the economy fluctuated was an obvious deterrent for most agencies. The same was for fostering--you simply worked too much to bre as present as they wanted you to be for a foster placement. And it didn't help that your particular neighborhood wasn't... stellar or "perfect" for a growing child.

The worst insult, perhaps, was when you looked into IVF after adoption and fostering were out of the question. It sounded like the best option, and so you went to your doctor. As uncomfortable and relatively invasive as the pelvic exam and tests were, your doctor assured you a pregnancy was easy enough to accomplish with the fertility treatments if you were able to get into a program.

Only... you hadn't. Your insurance wouldn't even cover half of the procedures, and your heart was sinking at the thought of going bankrupt and not being able to afford the child you so desperately wanted.

That was a low blow, but, you knew you still had options. You could get pregnant naturally. The real trick was finding a man who was willing, healthy, and responsible enough to agree to father your child.

As distasteful as sleeping with someone relatively strange to you was, you made the decision to be tactful. You made a profile on a dating website with the clear intentions that you wished to find a partner that was clean of any STIs, drug or alcohol addictions, and wouldn't cause problems for you if the impregnation was successful.

And of course, you assured that should they not wish it, you wouldn't put them on a birth certificate or come after them for child support. It would be difficult, surely, but you knew you could manage. There was always well-fare and WIC to help out with needs, as well as a few charities you could apply to. Your elderly neighbors even agreed to watch over your baby when it was born because they didn't have any grandchildren of their own; and the presence of a baby would brighten up their droll days when you needed the occasional break.

When you found a partner who was ready and willing to commit to your "requirements"--especially the STI tests with you present to be sure they were not lying--you both agreed to meet several times a week at his apartment to get down to business.

You planned your meetings carefully around your ovulatory and menstrual cycles, drank and ate anything that supposedly "boosted fertility"; and took every vitamin under the sun to help ensure it.

And then, you got the most wonderful news. You had been late on your period for nearly two months. Missing the first month wasn't a cause for alarm; after all, you had relatively irregular periods--which your doctor assured were because of stress and diet problems--and you weren't insistent upon a pregnancy test until you began to get sick during random times of the day or night and your body began to ache in places it hadn't before, such as your breasts.

You got your blood tested at your doctor's office and sure enough... you were pregnant! You reached out to the father when you got home, and after some arrangements, he agreed to send an unofficial check to you for the baby at the start of every month, but he wasn't sure if he could promise to be present for their childhood; which worked fine with you. It was more than you expected, anyways.

You immediately began to budget, alongside with the financial aid of the father of your baby, and began to prep your bedroom into a shared nursery for your impending arrival.

And as you were settling into your new routine and adjusted workload, you awoke during one night with intense vomiting. As you perched over your toilet bowl, pain began to radiate from your abdomen and deep into your body and pelvis, like sharp, pulsing, searing pain from inside of you.

It wasn't until you stood up to wash your face and brush your teeth that you realized you were bleeding. Your sleep shorts stained a disturbing shade of red. You immediately panicked; and simply ignoring the cost of an ambulance, you called 911, and phoned the father of your baby as dread began to soak into every pore.

It wasn't for several hours after all the tests and exams that the doctor from the ER finally came in with a sad, pitiful look on her face as she delivered the news.

You lost your baby.

It felt like the world opened up beneath you and you were swallowed by a void. You didn't even know you screamed until your vision went black around the edges; prompting you to take a much-needed breath. The father of your baby was sympathetic, he talked calmly to you, rubbing your back and speaking with the doctors for you while you struggled to cope.

They kept you for another day (after giving you some pill) to make sure you... passed the remains of the fetus so you didn't get sick from retained products of the conception.

You fell into a deep depression after that.

Weeks afterwards, you were a drone. You woke up, ate, worked, showered, slept, and performed the same duties again and again as if you were on autopilot. The father of your baby, Alain, checked in on you now and again, and at some point even introduced you to his new girlfriend (who was confused by the awkward situation at first, but in seeing what had gone wrong in your life, felt more pity towards you than anything).

Your elderly neighbors cried for you, made you food when you felt the absence of the want to cook or eat; and said they would offer up prayers for you.

You began to hide how... rotten you felt on the inside, after that. You feigned your old, "normal" behavior if not to just get everyone to stop treating you like some... Faberge egg that needed delicate handling. A doll so fragile from trauma and abuse you had to be put on a pedestal to avoid getting any more broken.

But deep inside you, that raw, twisted, pained feeling festered like a bad wound. It worsened when you discovered that your doctor had been horribly, profoundly wrong.

Your reproductive organs weren't in "perfect, healthy" shape. You had uterine scarring that appeared to line up with what was called Asherman's Syndrome. Your uterine cavity, as such, had a buildup of scar tissue and caused it to shrink, and the resulting damage is what likely triggered your miscarriage.

The doctor that had diagnosed your condition became suspicious, and called for an investigation into your primary doctor.

Turns out, he was responsible for many, many misdiagnoses on over a dozen patients. Many of which required some women to have hysterectomies done to save them; or have to be rushed into cancer treatments immediately. One had unfortunately lost her life due to a misdiagnosis and a fallopian torsion that wasn't treated in time. She left behind a husband and three little children who had to grow up without their mother.

The resulting lawsuits caused a media circus; and once again your life was thrown into disarray when you decided to be a part of it, having to recite the trauma of losing your poor, little baby to a bunch of strangers.

Your heart festered with rage. If you had known that your body was incapable of the one fucking thing it should have been able to do naturally, that you were one different decision away from the heartbreak you now suffered--you would never had tried to get pregnant. But like many of his patients, you took his word for it because he seemed so trustworthy. And if you couldn't trust the person your health was so reliant upon... who could you trust?

The doctor lost his license, and went to jail for the wrongful death, medical negligence and manslaughter of the woman he failed to properly diagnose and failed to treat.

The settlements were of little comfort to you all; those who suffered now-lifelong health problems, the family mourning a beloved wife and mother... and you, who mourned the life of the baby you never even got to feel kick, let alone name.

Your neighbors, Ebony and Malcolm Harris; Alain and his now-fiance, Amelia, had formed a bit of a cushion around you. Having an explanation for your misfortune, and then the financial boost from the punishment of the one responsible aided the pain somewhat... But it still hurt you so, so much.

Part of the settlement included paid-for counseling for those affected, and you took it. As dry and sour as it felt to yet again revisit the pain, you went through it.

But it still didn't help you when you looked at the toys, the unused clothes and set-up crib still sitting in your room, never to be used.

You spent a lot of time on the roof of your apartment building, contemplating... something. You wouldn't take the pills the doctor gave you. All they did was make you feel groggy and... numb. That felt worse than the guilt and grief, it didn't help.

You weren't sure anything would. You just wanted the pain to stop. You wanted to feel something, again.

You just wanted to be a mother.

"Oh, she's so... she's so..." Ebony sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her handkerchief. Malcolm sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders and sniffling himself. They loved you like their own child. They had none to speak of, since their son died overseas almost 20 years ago. You were the first person whom they felt a familial connection with--who didn't treat them as pitiful, childless old folks who were one bad day away from a nursing home.

"We're so scared for her," Malcolm whispered, pursing his lips. Just like his wife, he loved you like a daughter, too. And seeing you so consumed with pain and want hurt him badly. "She's hurting so badly."

"She wanted to be a mama so badly!" Ebony warbled, her wrinkled hands trembling as her husband held her. "That poor baby just wanted her own baby! She was so excited! Showed us everything, talked about it--I even started knitting a blanket!"

Malcom's own nearly-withered features twisted in sympathetic agony, "Please... is there something--anything--you can do for her? Help her, somehow? Like you helped us?"

The man sitting behind the desk kept his hands linked together as he peered over them at the couple. It was true. He had helped them.

When Ebony grew ill and eventually required dialysis, her body had been becoming increasingly weak and fragile; they were left without options. They tried prayers with pastors and in churches--but it didn't exactly do much with an absent god ignoring another desperate worshipper.

They were nearing the end of their rope when they heard through some whispers about him--the enigmatic "Dr. Moon".

They had only seen his face once, and that was after Ebony was miraculously cured following his strange "treatments", her kidneys back to functioning better than they had in her early 30s. After that, they attended private prayer sessions with him, the second high priest, after Marc Spector, whom he had only really interacted with a handful of times... And did not like how often he went against their god, Khonshu's word.

Begrudgingly, "Dr. Moon", later known to be one Yehya Badr, had started what would be known as the "Midnight Mission" with Spector. In his constant absence, the two agreed that it would work better if Yehya saw to the Mission while Marc traveled to hunt the cult of Ammit, and Khonshu's former high priest, Arthur Harrow.

And, while watching over the Mission and the innocent people... Yehya used his healing abilities and decided to open a free clinic from within the holy place. Many were hesitant to accept treatment from a religious institution, but soon patients and potential followers alike began to trickle in from the streets. People like Ebony and Malcolm.

Yehya felt for the couple and the story they now told him, his brow creasing beneath his white mask, mouth twisting into a pained frown. You sounded on the brink--ready to take one last hurdle into the beyond for the sake of the child you never got to hold.

"Healing something like that..." Yehya sighed sadly, standing up from his chair. The wheels squeaked softly as he pushed it back, and walked to the window that overlooked the street below. "...it won't be easy. I may not be able to do it alone, like when I treated you, Ebony."

"Can't you--can't you call on Him, again? Like you did before?" Malcolm pleaded earnestly. The love these two elders had for you touched him, made his own heart squeeze in his chest.

"Please... if--if His power can come from love, just--just take ours and give it all to her... please!" Ebony sniffled, burying her face in her hands.

Yehya swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly pulled his mask away from his face, walking over to take their hands in each of his. He could feel their heartache through their frail and gentle grip.

"I will see what I can do. Your faith--and love--might help this young woman you two adore so much. But I cannot predict how Khonshu will help her, should he choose to directly get involved."

Another repetitive day. You managed to force yourself to eat some takeout you had leftover from last night and microwaved that for dinner, eating alone in front of your TV as it droned on with some boring reality show you weren't really paying attention to anymore.

For the eighth time that week you contemplated packing away and donating all the baby items in your apartment. But every time you touched them you just broke down into a sobbing fit; your heart rending itself from the reality of what had gone wrong with you.

You couldn't even bring yourself to go into your bedroom, anymore. Everything was in there.

So, you'd taken to sleeping on your couch for the past few months. You only went into your room long enough to get things you needed, clothes and the like (the former just sitting in clothes hampers unfolded after laundry days) before fleeing in the bland space that was your meager living room.

After you finished eating, you sipped at the hard lemonade in your hand. Drinking to cope was bad, but something inside of you kept you from relying on it too heavily. And you never drank to get drunk; only enough to fuzz your senses enough to let you sleep on some nights.

And tonight was one of those nights.

You were on your fourth lemonade when the lights began to flicker in your apartment; your TV freezing frames when it began. Maybe your landlord was fiddling with the power to the building again? Had a fuse blown to the building? Whatever...

"I don't need this right now..." You grunted, taking a deep swig; one mouthful closer to the bottom of the bottle.

"Wasteful." A disembodied voice rumbled, making a chill creep up your spine.

"I... What--" Your head whipped around as you tried to figure out where it had come from--your TV was still frozen, so it couldn't have been that--you were still relatively sober so it couldn't have possibly been drunken hallucinations.

Suddenly, you jumped and yelled in surprise when the bottle went flying from your hand and smashed to bits on the wall, the drink within running down the drywall in rivulets from the impact.

"What the f--"

"My priest told me of you," The voice hummed. It felt as if something unseen was circling you like a predator does with its prey. "And of the pain you have endured, little one. There are those close to you who pleaded for my aid to help you, to heal you."

You felt the presence stop behind you, crowding you in and making your blood still within you; but you just couldn't bring yourself to turn around. The lights flickered weakly once more before going dead, as did your TV, swallowing you in darkness.

As your eyes adjusted to the inky darkness, this voice's words sunk in. "Heal you". "Help you".

"Who are you?" You swallowed.

"I am the god, Khonshu. I protect the innocent, I bring justice. I heal those that ask for it."

Yeah, no. You must have slipped and hit your head. You remembered Ebony and Malcolm saying they'd pray for you--but this was... this was impossible! But... some aching, gnawing, painful part of your heart begged for you to hear the voice out.

"How could you..." You cleared your throat, trying not to sound as scared as you felt. "How could you help me?"

"That remains to be seen." The voice replied with a thoughtful tone. "How do you wish for me to help you? I was told but precious little of your story--only from those around you. Not from you. What is it you wish my aid for?"

Your eyes slowly move to where you instinctively knew your bedroom door was. Even in the dark, you could feel the depressing aura clinging to the space call out to you like a siren in the black sea. The voice seemed to be able to "see" what you were looking at, as well.

Somehow--this Khonshu knew immediately what you were too scared to voice.

"I see." He told you, his voice growing soft and somber, if a touch sympathetic. His presence leaned away from you.

"You wish for me to heal the damage done inside of you?" He mused gently, "To enable you the ability to bear a child? It is easily enough done; but I sense something else bothering you."

Your hands knotted in the hem of your shirt; your stomach twisting itself into a nasty ball of writhing, anxious snakes.

"I... I can't go through it all, again." You croaked, your voice coming out hoarse. "The stress of finding... I just... I can't. It just... I don't want to--to risk it happening all over again, even if..."

"I see..." He murmurs again, giving you your space to breathe, "Then there may be another option--a guaranteed method--to ensure a healthy pregnancy and a healthy child..."

The way your heart hopefully leapt within your ribcage almost hurt--your stomach dropping into a pit. Sure, you may be going crazy and this could be a hallucination... But would it be so bad to give in, to live in some fantasy to alleviate the pain and grief you've been suffering with for nearly over a year?

"So you... you're... offering to... what, be the father of my baby?" You whispered.

A feather-light touch brushed your arm, the feeling warm and gentle on your skin, "Only if you wish it. I can help you, but only if you want me to. I can heal you, but only if it was what you truly want. When a child is produced, I will ensure there will be no struggles for you and the babe."

"You... promise? That it'll work?"

"I swear it."

You swallowed. Thinking hard.

But some part of you had already made a decision--and that part of you spoke: "Okay."

"Very well, then..." Khonshu murmured.

In the span of a breath, you felt large, warm arms wrap around your waist, tugging you close. And then, the next thing you knew... you were laying on your back, in your bed, with him hovering above your in the dark.

Even with the dim lights in the streets below barely filtering in through your blackout curtains, you couldn't clearly make out his appearance. The shadows that were being cast merely gave you an image that couldn't possibly have been true.

"Can I see you?" You whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Only if you wish it." He reminded you softly, his hand caressing your hip, beginning a slow, sweet trek up beneath your shirt.

"I do."

The dim light of the candle at your bedside table flickered to life--the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla filling your senses.

You finally got to see him. And you weren't afraid.

Marc felt uneasy as soon as they got off the plane, and Layla soothed him with a touch as she linked her fingers with his. He didn't like being here--the city was teeming with cruelty and injustice... and he knew Khonshu wouldn't let him rest long. Him, Steven, or Jake.

"Marc, just breathe." Layla said to him as she adjusted the strap of her travel bag with one hand, her other squeezing his. "It'll be fine. If Khonshu has a problem with you taking it easy--"

Layla scoffed, blowing a puff of air from out of her cheeks as they walked out of the terminal, Marc hauling their suitcases behind him, their wheels squeaking sadly beneath the weight. Some of their less... legal belongings were being smuggled in and would be delivered to their destination later in the night.

"Well, the old bastard can deal with it. I'm here, and I'll pick up the slack if I gotta." She assured him.

Marc's shoulders sag; he can feel Jake plucking at the edges of his mind, giving him gentle reassurances and his oath that if anything happened; he would be the one to bear the brunt of Khonshu's work in his stead. Even Steven spoke up to voice his assurances that all would be well--after all, they had Layla with them!

"Yeah," He sighed, smiling at her and bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, "You're right. It's also just..."

"Just..?" She led on, quirking a brow at him.

"The last time Badr and I spoke, it kinda ended in a fist fight." He smiled warily.

"Oh, gods, of course it did..." She snorted.

"I mean, I shattered his nose and he broke one of my knees, so... Yeah. Bad." Marc grinned, earning an elbow to the ribs from his lovely wife.

"Can it, Spector. Don't make me worry about you even more!" She laughed with him.

"Ouch!" A man holding a dry erase board laughed; the writing on his sign clearly stating "SPECTOR" in bold black letters on it. He stood in front of a pristine white car. It was Marc's. Or, well... apparently it was Jake's... A purchase he'd made without Marc's knowledge at some point... like the limo back in London.

Jake would apparently make spare cash when he would take over while Marc slept and Steven lay buried. All without their knowledge, of course...

"Hitting you with the Spectorrrr, is she?" Jean-Paul grinned, his thin, pointed mustache quirking like a fidgety caterpillar. "So cruel!"

"Well, he deserves it." Layla grinned, leaning in to hug him, "Frenchy! So good to see you! How've you been? How's Rob?"

"Happy as a clam in some nice clean water! And my physical therapy has almost concluded." Jean-Paul smiled, kissing each of Layla's cheeks in an affectionate greeting when she asked about his lover.

He lifted his eyes to spot Marc, bringing him in with a closed fist to give a shoulder-hug, "I'm glad you've gotten yourself sorted, Marc. Rob and I were worried about you!"

"As sorted as a guy with two other guys living inside his head that's in service to a pissy god can be, anyways..."

"Ahhh... Right. Right." Jean-Paul said, clicking his teeth as he popped the trunk to the car so Layla and Marc could load their things up. He opened up the back door for them to climb into the backseat."

"Hey, I can always drive us, Duchamp." Marc smirked at him, the corners of his eyes creasing in humor, "After all... it is technically my car."

"No, no--" Jean-Paul grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Let me do it, c'mon. It gives me something to do, today!"

Layla nudged Marc with a giggle and he relented, climbing in behind her.

Marc sighed as Jean-Paul helped them unload their bags, his eyes following Marc and Layla's to the building in front of them; the doors decorated with carved crescent moons in the frosted glass.

He had been to the Midnight Mission only a handful of times--and every one of those times was to assist Marc as his pilot during intense missions for Khonshu. And he of course met Yehya Badr, the two men had a respectful relationship. He himself had conducted a few healing rituals to help with the phantom pains Jean-Paul occasionally felt in his legs.

But he knew that Badr and Marc didn't always get along; Yehya being a die-hard and devout follower of Khonshu and Marc being a bit of a renegade who tended to go against his word and do things his own way. And he knew it had been a few years since the two parted on... well--rather bad terms.

"Well, better get the torture and inevitable lecture over with..." Marc grunted, shouldering one of the duffels. Layla helps gather the rest, letting Jean-Paul close the door and trunk.

As they crossed the threshold, Jean-Paul winced, "Oh, right! There's something you should know about, by the way..."

Marc looked at him over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Well, Yehya isn't the only one who lives in the Mission anymore." Jean-Paul grinned as their floors squeaked on the waxed marble floors.

"Okay, and...?"

He rubbed his mustache with his index finger, smiling a little bashfully as he looked away. "Well, er... it's kinda... Uh, awkward... Well, I mean, that is--"

"Spit it out, Frenchy." Layla smiled, rolling her eyes.

A door could be heard swinging open from somewhere down the hall as they leave the foyer, and Jean-Paul laughed, grinning from ear to ear as a small, rambunctious human suddenly appeared, colliding with Marc's legs and wrapping her arms around his legs and giggling.

"Daddy!" She giggled excitedly, rubbing her face on his jeans.

Marc on the other hand, began to immediately panic--his eyes going wide as he looked to Layla, whom in turn looked at Marc with her eyebrows risen the highest on her brow Marc has ever seen--awaiting an explanation.

Marc began to sweat, "Baby, I swear to God I didn't--"

The child looked up at him, and frowned. Her little brows creased and she pouted, her bottom lip poking out as she studied Marc. "...Oh." She said dejectedly, sighing deeply. "You're not my Daddy."

Marc's heart felt like it was gonna explode--Jake and Steven had come to co-front to see what all the fuss and anxiety was about. Steven immediately began to go on about how darling the girl was, her shiny and clear her eyes were--how smart and at the same time seemingly ancient they looked. Like polished obsidian stones, a dazzling array of lights shimmering from somewhere deep within.

Jean-Paul laughed and clapped his hands, his face turning red from the force of his laughter. The child brightened up and rushed towards him, allowing him to scooped her up and swing her in a circle, "Hello, petit gâteau!" He crooned, kissing the girl's cheeks.

"Uncle Frenchy!" She giggled as he swung her around one last time before setting her down.

"Yes, yes, it's been a while! A whole week!" He grinned down at her, letting her hang off of his hand. She swung from it for a moment, studying Marc and Layla curiously, the fabric of her dress flowing almost like water as she did so.

"This is--well, I guess this could technically be your... er..." Jean-Paul smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your big brother Marc? And Layla, his wife."

Marc and Layla's jaws dropped, their confusion and curiosity only growing more and more.

(Oh, this'll be good...) Jake snickered, rubbing his chin. Through their reflections in a nearby portrait, Marc could see Steven elbow him.

'Ay, lay off! We can be curious without bein' rude about it, yeah?' The Brit huffed.

Jean-Paul was about to explain, but...

"Savah!" You sighed in relief, running out to see them. You knew Jean-Paul, from his healing sessions with Yehya and how he loved to babysit your daughter. He was apparently a trusted friend and ally of "Moon Knight's" so you knew he was harmless.

"I... agh. I'm so sorry if she jumped you..." You smiled apologetically at them as you scooped her up, bouncing the tot on your hip as she giggled into her hands. "We were playing hide and seek--and she must have slipped out when I wasn't paying attention!"

Steven couldn't help but squee at how adorable the girl was, Jake had to concede that, yes... she was stinkin' adorable. Even Marc was having a hard time arguing the point, and he was very, very awkward with kids.

"Savah, it's one thing to go up and hug your Uncle Frenchy, but it's another to go up to strangers you don't know." You say, gently scolding her. Her little grin falters, and she frowns cutely.

"I felt it... I thought it was Daddy..." She mumbled, plucking at one of the buttons in your blouse.

"Felt" it?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and looking back at Marc and Layla.

"Right! That brings us to the introductions, eh?" Jean-Paul spoke up, rubbing his hands together. "This is Layla el Faouly--er, well, actually Spector now, ain't it?--and Marc Spector, her husband. He's the Moon Knight."

Marc jumped, his eyes going wide at how casually Jean-Paul had introduced him with his mystical alter-ego, barely even registering it when he introduced you by name; "And this lovely little bon bon, is Savah, her daughter."

"Ohhhh..." You said, your posture relaxing, "That's why she got her "funny" feeling! Sorry, she thought you were her dad."

"I, uh... No harm no foul, but..." Marc laughed nervously, smoothing his hair back, "I could've lived without the heart attack of me possibly blacking out and oops'ing a baby with somebody at some point in time..."

Layla actually laughed, "Oh, please... like you have game with anyone but me, Marc."

He looked at Layla and deadpanned; "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised at how many people swoon for Jake's "Spanish charm"."

You blinked, looking at Jean-Paul for an explanation, and he gestured to continue down the hall, "Ah... let's go and... get some tea, hm? Explain a little bit."

"Right, right, I've never actually met this one." You reply, nodding.

"Mhmm, and he definitely doesn't know about you."

Basic introductions happened over warm cups of tea in one of the furnished rooms off the foyer. Badr had shaken hands with Marc, surprisingly polite and almost friendly before he briefly turned his attention to little Savah, helping fix her doll she had accidentally popped the leg off of when she got too rough, and ruffled her hair before leaving once more.

However... Jean-Paul had yet to fully introduce the two of you to the couple. He mostly let Marc and Layla explain who they were, and what they had been doing. Since obviously, you were so trusted as to even know about Yehya's identity as Hunter's Moon; they trusted to tell you about hunting Ammit, and ultimately defeating her.

It was less than an half an hour after that, that Savah suddenly perked up again, hopping up and down into place, her eyes sparkling even brighter. The glimmering lights in her dark depths caught Marc's attention, stopping him dead in the middle of his sentence, "Uh..."

"Oh... look's like he's home after all... wonder what he was waiting for?" You muse, smiling at your daughter happily, watching her as she ran to the door when it began to open.

A man with tanned skin, graying black hair, and a short beard walked in; his white suit crisp and immaculate. His hazel eyes were stern, his chiseled features only softening as Savah rushed up to him, holding her arms up expectantly until he picked her up and cradled her body gently against his, kissing her forehead gently.

"Daddy!" She squealed, giggling as she tried to wrap her tiny arms around him. It was now pointedly obvious this man was indeed to be her father--especially because of how many of his facial aspects she had. She had your skin tone and hair color, but certainly had his looks...

You rose from your cushioned seat and walked over to them, brushing your nose affectionately against his with a smile as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

"See? See?" Savah said excitedly, grinning like mad. "I told you I felt Daddy! I always do!"

"Yeah, you do, munchkin. Yeah, you do." You snorted, shaking your head.

Jean-Paul cleared his throat and awkwardly stepped around the three of you; "Well... I guess I don't have to do the rest of the introductions after all... I'll see you two later!"

"Bye bye!" Savah called out to him as the door shut with a faint click behind him.

Savah's father looked at Marc with a rather bored expression, almost... annoyed, really. Gave Layla the same look, as well. Marc rolled his shoulder stiffly, suddenly very uncomfortable under his unflinching gaze.

"It took the both of you long enough to get here." He said in almost a sneer; his voice unmistakably, painfully familiar.

Layla and Marc shot to their feet, almost falling over themselves as the realization dawned on them. Jake and Steven were in an uproar within Marc's mind.

"Khonshu?!" They both cried.

His brow quirked upward in an unimpressed gesture, "Gah. How can you two be so perceptive when hunting artifacts and evildoers, but cannot pick up on this? I am disappointed in you, Marc. You should have figured it out, first."

"Th-that's why her... her eyes--?!" He sputtered.

Finally, the corner of Khonshu's mouth tilts upwards in a cocky smirk; his eyes flashed an almost blinding white. And when Savah looked at the both of them, they could see the lights in her eyes swirl and shine even brighter and in tune with Khonshu's, shifting and dancing until they briefly solidified in an unmistakable crescent-shape before parting in a fractured dance, again.

"Yes, this is my daughter." He stated proudly, his arm tightening around you a fraction, "And my wife."

"Wife, huh? When did that happen?" You snorted, giving him a snarky look.

"I assumed it happened sometime after Savah was born." He hummed, his snark matching your own, "After all, you live under my roof, mother my child, sleep in our bed..."

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, "Smartass."

You looked at the couple across the room and smiled awkwardly, "I never did get to explain much... But, since that's outta the way... mind explaining to me why there's such a weird vibe in the room, right now?"

Marc and Layla merely blinked at you, before once again exclaiming in unison:

"You had Khonshu's god-baby?!"

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam, could you please recommend any resources/websites to learn about ADHD medication? Until reading your post about second-line meds I thought Adderal was the only one

I can definitely talk about it a little! Always bearing in mind that I am not a doctor and this is not medical advice, etc. etc.

So, I've had many friends with ADHD in my life before I got my diagnosis and I picked up some stuff from them even before getting diagnosed; I also spoke with my prescribing psychiatrist about options when we met. If you think your psychiatrist might be resistant to discussing options, or you don't have one, doing your own research is good, but it's not really a substitute for a specialist in medication management. So it's also important to know what your needs are -- ie, "I want help with my executive function but I need something that's nonaddictive" or "I want something nonsedative" or "I don't think the treatment I'm on is working, what is available outside of this kind of medication?"

The problems you run into with researching medication for ADHD are threefold:

Most well-informed sources aren't actually geared towards non-doctor adults who just want to know what their options are -- they're usually either doctors who don't know how to talk about medication to non-doctors, or doctors (and parents) talking to parents about pediatric options.

A huge number of sites when you google are either AI-generated, covert ads for stimulant addiction rehab, or both.

Reliable sites with easy-to-understand information are not updated super often.

So you just kind of have to be really alert and read the "page" itself for context clues -- is it a science journal, is it an organization that helps people with ADHD, is it a doctor, is it a rehab clinic, is it a drug advertiser, is it a random site with a weird URL that's probably AI generated, etc.

So for example, ADDitude Magazine, which is kind of the pre-eminent clearinghouse for non-scholarly information on ADHD, is a great place to start, but when the research is clearly outlined it sometimes isn't up-to-date, and when it's up-to-date it's often a little impenetrable. They have an extensive library of podcast/webinars, and I started this particular research with this one, but his slides aren't super well-organized, he flips back and forth between chemical and brand name, and he doesn't always designate which is which. However, he does have a couple of slides that list off a bunch of medications, so I just put those into a spreadsheet, gleaned what I could from him, and then searched each medication. I did find a pretty good chart at WebMD that at least gives you the types and brand names fairly visibly. (Fwiw with the webinar, I definitely spent more time skimming the transcript than listening to him, auto transcription isn't GOOD but it is helpful in speeding through stuff like that.)

I think, functionally, there are four types of meds for ADHD, and the more popular ones often have several variations. Sometimes this is just for dosage purposes -- like, if you have trouble swallowing pills there are some meds that come in liquids or patches, so it's useful to learn the chemical name rather than the brand name, because then you can identify several "brands" that all use the same chemical and start to differentiate between them.

Top of the list you have your methylphenidate and your amphetamine, those are the two types of stimulant medications; the most well known brand names for these are Ritalin (methylphenidate) and Adderall (amphetamine).

Then there's the nonstimulant medications, SNRIs (Strattera, for example) and Alpha-2 Agonists (guanfacine and clonidine, brand names Kapvay and Intuniv; I'm looking at these for a second-line medication). There's some crossover between these and the next category:

Antidepressants are sometimes helpful with ADHD symptoms as well as being helpful for depression; I haven't looked at these much because for me they feel like the nuclear option, but it's Dopamine reuptake inhibitors like Wellbutrin and tricyclics like Tofranil. If you're researching these you don't need to look at like, every antidepressant ever, just look for ones that are specifically mentioned in context with ADHD.

Lastly there are what I call the Offlabels -- medications that we understand to have an impact on ADHD for some people, but which aren't generally prescribed very often, and sometimes aren't approved for use. I don't know much about these, either, because they tend to be for complex cases that don't respond to the usual scrips and are particularly difficult to research. The one I have in my notes is memantine (brand name Namenda) which is primarily a dementia medication that has shown to be particularly helpful for social cognition in people with combined Autism/ADHD.

So yeah -- hopefully that's a start for you, but as with everything online, don't take my word for it -- I'm also a lay person and may get stuff wrong, so this is just what I've found and kept in my notes. Your best bet truly is to find a psychiatrist specializing in ADHD medication management and discuss your options with them. Good luck!

[rogumi]

I want to get into Nintama but I'm a little intimidated!

OR, alternatively, "I want to recommend Nintama to someone but I'm worried I'll overwhelm them!"

With the new movie coming out and English subtitles in the works, there's been a lot of excitement and curiosity about Nintama and how to get into it. While it's a staple in Japan, international fans have famously struggled to access it.

There are many ways to dive into the fandom, and none of them are wrong! But today, this guide's goal is simple: to help you grasp the key plot threads and character relationships featured in the newest movie--without feeling overwhelmed or confused. The new movie expects you to already know a lot of context and history between characters! I've narrowed it down to 6 essential episodes, plus a few optional ones to deepen your understanding. Episodes/movies considered must watch will have a ⭐ next to them. Everything else isn't strictly necessary, but will make the new movie more enjoyable.

(For easy access to all the files, look at the bottom of the post!)

1. S01 - E01: "Enrolling into Ninjutsu Academy / The Kunoichi Class is Frightening" ⭐ A charming introduction to the setting and main characters. While characters have evolved since then, this episode remains a great starting point. 2. Movie 1: "Eiga Nintama Rantarou" ⭐ Many elements from this film become relevant again in Movie 3. It’s also a good way to meet Dokutake and the rest of 1-ha without adding more episodes to the list. 3. S19 - E90: "Doi-sensei and Kirimaru Special" ⭐ A must-watch before Movie 3—a scene from this episode is directly referenced. 4. S20 - E58: "Compassion is Forbidden" This episode centers around a trio of character that are important in Movie 2. Next episode as well is mostly prep for that movie. Remember this guide is just a suggestion. If you want to skip this episode or the next one, that's fine, but Movie 2 will become a little confusing. 5. S16 - E11: "Committees in the Middle of the Night" and S16 - E12: "The Equipment Committee President’s Debut" This 2-episode arc introduces 3 committees, including the Health Committee, which plays a major role in Movie 2. Feel free to skip it if you're already familiar how committees work in Nintama and are short on time. But it's a fun watch regardless if you know them or not! 6. S25 - E54: "Let's Go Home" Focus on Kirimaru, Doi, and the Yamada father-son duo. A really cute episode. 7. Nintama Rantarou Movie 2: "All of Ninjutsu Academy Ready for Action!" ⭐ Tasogaredoki joins the fray. A fun movie for sure. 8. S26 - E 35: "Steal The Roof Tile" 5th year focus episode! 9. S28 - E45: "The 6th Year's Part-Time Job Mess Up?" Explores Kirimaru’s relationships with some of his senpai. 10. S30 - E35: "The Remembered Treatment" ⭐ Amako Soubee-sensei drafted this episode. It elaborates on Doi's past and his ties to the Yamada family. Must-watch pre-Movie 3. In Season 32, Amako Soubee-sensei herself drafted five episodes which aired shortly before Movie 3. They're all excellent, and you can find them all here if you're curious, but if you want just the essentials: 11. S32 - E60: "Going Home Together" Further explains how Doi-sensei and Kirimaru ended up living together. 12. S32 - E63: "The Reason They Hate Him" Focuses on Tasogaredoki characters, who play a key role in the story in the latest movie. 13. S32 - E64: "Rookie" ⭐ Another must-watch for Doi's background. 🎉🎉 Movie 3: Gekijou-ban Nintama Rantarou: Dokutake Ninja-tai Saikyou no Gunshi 🎉🎉 You made it! Enjoy! For convenience's sake, here's a mega with everything listed above in recommended watch order. Here's a pixeldrain mirror as well. I've tried to give credit to all subbers by adding square brackets with their names, but some have deleted their blogs, their youtube accounts have been terminated or I simply can't find the source. If you know it, drop a comment, and I’ll edit it in—it would help me immensely. Special thanks to the ninjas of Tasogaredokijou for working extra hard to release the episodes needed to complete this list. And to everyone who gave me their input, thank you as well! If you have any doubts or need further assistance (or episode recommendations) let me know! I have anon asks enabled here and comments on for dreamwidth. I will maintain the links so please go to the OP post if anything breaks. Hope you have fun and end up joining us in the Nintama swamp! mega files pixeldrain files dreamwidth mirror of the post

[cripplecharacters]

This isn't my character, but I was playing a game where a character is physically disabled and using a wheelchair. She got into a car crash and suffered from nerve damage, resulting in both of her legs being paralysed. Her doctor told her she could walk again if she underwent a rehabilitation program, but she refused.

Prior to her car crash, she had lost her best friend, and had attempted to bury her grief in her work, becoming more demanding and difficult, which resulted in her co-workers disliking her attitude. The car crash that left her disabled was caused by her running over a red light in the middle of her stress and frustration.

After the accident, she reflected on herself and worked on becoming a better and more reasonable person to work with. Hence, the reason of her decision to refuse rehabilitation is to have her loss of her legs to serve as an anchor to remind herself not to lose herself in her own world and to neglect the feelings of the people around her.

It has been written that her disability doesn't affect her career (she's a film director), and she's still a successful person when we're introduced to her.

Still, I wanted to ask if having a character refuse rehabilitation for their disability a bad writing choice? And if a character wanting to stay disabled to remind themselves of an important life experience harmful to the disabled community in any way?

Hello!

I'm not familiar with the game you're referring to but from the sound of it, it seems to be falling into the Disability as Punishment trope.

The issue isn't necessarily with the character declining rehabilitation. Disabled people decline treatment options all the time for a variety of reasons. Maybe they aren't comfortable with the risks or side effects of the treatment, maybe the treatment process isn't feasible for their lifestyle, maybe they've tried other options and just don't want to keep going with it.

The problem with this case is the context around why the character declines the treatment/rehabilitation. We've talked a lot about the Disability as Punishment trope in the past (you can find some of these posts by scrolling through the #disability as punishment tag).

I'm hesitant to speak more about this specific case for a few reasons. The first is that, as mentioned, I'm unfamiliar with the source media and I don't know anything about the context besides what you've mentioned. Without knowing the full story, I can't tell you if it's a "bad" writing choice or not. The other reason is that we're a blog for writing advice -- not media reviews -- and I'd like to keep this as on topic as possible.

That said, there are a few things to consider if you want to make similar writing choices in your own work.

The first is what kind of message you may be sending, either intentionally or unintentionally. Is disability being portrayed as a "fair punishment" for the character's actions or is their decision something that is shown as being fueled by their grief? Does their decision end up changing at all or do they feel any regret about their decision?

I think this kind of thing (a character declining rehabilitation because they want to remind themself to be better) has potential to work in stories dealing with growth, acceptance, and grief but I'd be skeptical if it's just something in the background that's never addressed.

It's also worth exploring why the character would make this rather drastic decision. It feels odd to me that somebody would make this decision simply to "remind themself" not to do something and punish themself for doing it in the first place.

It feels very trivializing to those of us that didn't get a choice in the matter.

But yeah, without knowing more about the context and the character, I can't say much about the media itself. I'd suggest taking a look through the Disability as Punishment tag, though. It has some helpful information and answers to similar asks.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus